Motherhood

Wishful Thinking

Happy Birthday Big Guy.
I wish we could stay in bed all day.
And do nothing.
Or something.
But instead we will be
getting Caroline tubes in her ears,
closing your practice,
searching for a new job,
taking kids back to school shopping,
paying bills,
cleaning house,
and
working on church callings.
All of which will require us to get out of bed
VERY EARLY.
I’m so glad I married a morning person.
One of these days,
let’s get out of bed early,
and go somewhere
where we can stay in bed all day.

Proud Mothering Moments

When I was a young mother,
I screwed up all the time.
I would like to think that I screwed up
then more often than I do now.
I laugh as new mothers ask me
how I do so well with 4 children.
I laugh because they don’t believe me
when I tell them that there’s a learning curve.
To prove my point, here’s a great story.
One time, LG and I went shopping with Abigail.
Remember, we only had ONE child.
Maybe two, I can’t remember if Sophia was born yet.
We went to Utah’s finest hub for young poor college families:
The Wal-Mart in Orem, UT.
Abigail started whining that she needed
to go to the bathroom.
We cut our shopping short,
and checked out quickly.
LG was assigned to take the things to the car.
And, I took Abigail to the bathroom at the front of the store.
I took her in a stall and got her situated.
When all of the sudden,
a wave of “I need to relieve myself too”
washed over me.
I told Abigail to stay in her stall
and that I was going to run into the stall next to her.
I talked to her as I ran over and the whole time
I was doing my business.
In the middle of this, I see her feet hit the floor.
I adamantly encourage her to wait for me.
I tell her to sit back down.
She took a step.
I tell her to stand still.
She keeps walking.
I see her feet run out of her stall.
I don’t know if she can hear me.
I start raising my voice.
“Abigail, Abigail, mommy is right here.”
“Abigail, come here.”
I notice that she left her pants and her underwear
on the floor of her stall.
I hurry and pull my pants up.
And run.
I don’t even think I flushed the toilet.
Gross.
By the time I got to her,
she had walked out of the store.
With no pants on.
So much for Code Adam.
So much for Wal-Mart greeters
watching for suspicious activity.
And so much for me being
a natural at raising kids from my first.
And I have never EVER tried to go to the bathroom
at the same time as one of my toddlers
ever since that horrifying day at Wal-Mart
back in 2000 or 2001.
And one lesson, after another, and another,
has made me into the amazing mother
that I am today.
And lucky for me,
none of the rest of my lessons,
consisted of me
running after a naked child
in the parking lot
of Wal-Mart.
Did I mention that she had pooped
and hadn’t been wiped?
And the same goes for me.

Motherhood: An Eternal Partnership with God

This morning I was uplifted.
I was encouraged.
I was thanked.
I was given perspective.
I was humbled.
I was honored.
For no other reason than
I am a mother.
Because I am a mother,
I am a partner with God.
My children are so wonderful.
Because they came from God.
Therefore, He helps me,
even when I don’t know it.
I am greatly blessed.

Thank you to my God for the words of a truly inspired Apostle.

Ways to Hurt Bella’s Feelings

Here’s is Abigail’s latest discipline activity.
I think it goes along quite perfectly with her sourface.
I asked her to write 10 ways that she hurts her sister’s feelings.
This was to compliment her essay on what she liked about Bella.
So, I was a little surprised with her finished essay
she entitled Ways to Hurt Bella’s Feelings.
Because it seemed so calculated
instead of reflective.
I will hurt Bella’s feelings by calling her names,
hitting her, kicking her, pinching her, and biting her.

Other ways I’ll hurt her feelings is saying something untrue to her,
taking something away from her, and not caring about her.

Also, I will laugh at her and ignore her.

These are the ways I’ll hurt Bella’s feelings.
She wrote with such fervor,
it’s as if she plans to go and do each of these things.
And, she probably will do at least 6 of the 10.
No matter how good I am as her mother.
And, that, my friends, is the worst part of summer and the only reason I am ready for my children to go back to school every August.

Spiritually Minded Women

Some of my friends, doing what we do best: shepherding God’s future warriors.
At church a few weeks ago, our Bishop was addressing a room full of women. He asked if we had noticed a moral decline in the world, specifically when it comes to church attendance. He said that he had noticed that many people nowadays just go to church because it’s the thing to do, but that they don’t go as a way to worship and help them be closer to God throughout the week. Nobody said anything.

I raised my hand and said, “Bishop, I don’t disagree with you, because I think that is precisely the way the world is headed, but I think many of us women are fortunate to have a lot of friends who still do care about their God and not just on Sundays.”
I went on, “I am personally privileged to have a lot of inspiring women as friends.”
I kind of ruined his point, but I wouldn’t change my honesty. I have so many wonderful women in my life. They all inspire me to be a better daughter of God. To be a worshipper of my Savior Jesus Christ. To be a mother who loves with all she’s got. To be a wife who honors her husband. They inspire me to higher grounds.
They inspire me in real life. They inspire me in my cyber life, and they inspire me with His word. Many of them do all three. Nicole is one of those. I was so grateful for her recent flattering words. Her words were strong evidence for my argument to my Bishop. What could be better in this world then us women who rock the cradle, backing each other up? Not much. Unless that backing was with God. Because nothing can penetrate that. Nothing at all.

Time-Out Time

I just read this article for some great new strategies in disciplining my kids.
After reading the article, I thought that letting the kids play cards with the dog was a really great idea of disciplining with techniques of both distraction and silliness. Let me know if your dog is as good as ours at playing spoons. It kind of runs in the Gold blood. Olive would love to get together with your dog for a card playing play date.

I typically am a go-to time out mom. I am a believer in time-out. We spanked Abigail, our oldest, for a while and found that it did not work for her at all. It just made her more aggressive. I am not saying that spanking won’t work for some children, but for me it wasn’t an option because I could not spank without anger. But, the older my children have got, the more frustrated I have become with the ineffectiveness of time-out. I have found myself trying to remember what my mom did with her seven kids when I have situations to resolve at hand.
My mom spanked so well without anger that it was a standing joke at our house growing up. There was usually much laughter accompanying our spankings, which were preferably given with a wooden spoon. It was much softer than her hand would have been. She’s such a softie. Another good thing my mom did was make my siblings and I sit under the peach tree in the backyard whenever we fought. We had to stay there until we were willing to give each other a hug. How powerful and simple that technique was. I think she may have even used it on some of the neighbor kids from time to time. And, now that I am a mother, I realize how ingenious the idea was for her sanity too. She didn’t have to worry or listen to any bickering once we were outside. She also remained neutral and made us work out our own solutions with this effective disciplining strategy.
I was really excited the other day when I had a good parenting stroke of genius. I think my mom would be pleased. The idea stemmed from her insistence that I write “I love my brother 100 times” at least 100 times in my life.
For the most part my kids behave great, but I have one pretty consistent struggle between my two bullheaded children. Abigail is 11 and wants to always tell 6 year old Bella how to do things. Bella resents it because she thinks she can be her own boss. They go at it pretty good from time to time, mostly just verbally, but sometimes they will push or hit.
Well, the other day, after one of these disagreements, and after Abigail’s 11 minute time-out, that didn’t work a bit, I gave her an assignment. She was to sit at the kitchen table and write down 10 things she likes about Bella. I was adamant that she would not leave the table until she got it done.
I was so impressed and completely surprised that Abigail cranked it out really quickly. She even threw in an extra compliment for good measure.
1. She cleans when asked.
2 She is kind to others. (not me)
3. She doesn’t quit.
4. She likes cool music.
5. She leaves me alone when I ask, which is almost all the time.
6. She loves to play.
7. She is strong willed.
8. She dresses uniquely.
9. She takes charge in doubt.
10. She loves to take care of everything.
11. She is organized.
Later Abigail admitted to me that the way that she came up with the list was to think of all the things that she didn’t like about Bella and turn them into a compliment. So, when it said, she dresses uniquely, that started out with she dresses awful. She likes cool music was really that Abigail hates her music, etc, etc.
At Abigail’s admission, I could have been defeated, but I realized that even though Abigail thought she had the upper-hand, she didn’t. I had just succeeded with a truly inspired exercise in cognitive therapy. I taught Abigail how to change the way she thinks. Isn’t that what we all have to do to love our enemies?

A Summer Pace

I love summer because it allows for my Southern California beach pace of life to be lived guilt free. I have NO AMBITION in the summer and I prefer it that way. However I do not subscribe to a belief that ALL people should live this way. To each is own. I apologize profusely to you Stacey if my teasing hurt your feelings. We are definitely different animals, but I want you to know that I believe there is room for both of us in the same animal kingdom. Just as there is room for bees and sloths. You would be the bee, I would be the sloth.

I teased my new friend Stacey for her differences and she recently wrote about it on her blog. I wrote a comment back to my friend Stacey in response to her blog post about being teased for her rigid summer schedule, I thought it was worth a good share.

Here are my feelings about a summer pace. I am sure some of you will be horrified and I hope with all my heart that some of you will back me up on my lazy summer lifestyle.
Hi, my name is Alice and I am the teaser. I feel perfectly comfortable teasing people because I welcome them to dish it back.

It is 4:00 and I am sitting here in my underwear reading your blog. I just got up from a 2 hour nap. M yhouse isn’t looking so hot today and the folded laundry has been sitting out on my sewing table since Monday waiting to be put away.

I don’t have an affinity for T.V. and my kids usually get bored with it after a couple of movies, and by afternoon we explore ideas on what they would like to do with this lazy summer day.

Once a week, I get really ambitious and take my kids to play group and on Monday’s we go to the library. Besides that we try to go with the flow and try to underschedule in the summer to make up for the overscheduling during the school year.
I need to teach my kids better responsibility. I probably need more scheduling in my life and even though I tease for fun but also really think you could stand for some flexibility, I think you are great mom. Everyone needs to be comfortable in their own skin and this is what really matters.

When both of your kids get in school and you are scheduled to the second all school year, you may find yourself on some distant summer day undressed at 4:00 and you may even be totally fine with it.

I love you Stacey and I am so glad you are my friend. And secretly I am jealous of all the things that you and your kids are experiencing this summer. We aren’t too driven around here. Our only goal is to eat one box of otter pops per week.

Mini Me

Recently my sister-in-law posted a status update on her facebook. She was so entertained because Bella had asked her Grammy to turn the radio down in the car to alleviate her headache. Grammy replied that if she would stop talking it would help her headache go away.

Bella’s response amused many other FB users that know me as well as Michelle.. “I can’t stop talking, I am just like my mom.”
I have taught my children to only speak truth. Sometimes it bites me in the butt.
Onto the serious part of the post. I wanted to write this down before I forgot.
There are three things that I have learned recently in therapy. They were key in helping me along my journey with codependency. They were BIG parts of the puzzle in teaching me to fight my codependent need to be loved.
1-I could not handle criticism.
All of these things came into play with my parenting today. You see, Bella is a mini-me, in almost every single way. She is not just my only brunette child, she is a codependent. She came that way. She has an insatiable need to be loved. It’s exhausting. God knows what he is doing because parenting her has been vital to my own healing.
Today I decided that it was time for me to share some of my therapy with Bella. If I didn’t learn about fighting my need to be loved until 37, how much better will it be for her to understand it earlier? Well, I pretty much botched trying to take my knowledge from my brain to Bella’s. There’s a reason that therapists are licensed and I am not. I found the story a little amusing.
Bella was throwing a jumbo sized fit because Abigail had wrongfully criticized her. Apologies had been made, but those of you with codependent experience know that an apology never equates the end. Bella couldn’t make herself let it go. She can’t handle criticism. Remember that was #1 from the above things I learned about myself. She was abandoned and she wanted us to know about it. She also wanted us to hurt because in her jumbled mind, us experiencing pain, makes her pain turn into a sad form of love. She started going on and on about how nobody loves her. She screamed at me that she always does things for me and I never do things for her. You have NO idea how horrible this is unless you have lived through it. And we have lived through it hundreds of times.
I caught my smirk before it surfaced as I finally understood what I had to do. Months ago I quit trying to coddle to the girl while she created her own hell and ours as well. In fact remembering this prior post, I am a little stunned that my love declaration had actually worked. It usually does not. Usually coddling or sympathizing makes things a million times worse. Today was the day to teach Bella about her love tank.
I happened to be making chocolate chip cookies. I told Bella that she would not get to play again until she was ready to have a talk with me. She took about an hour to come around. Just enough time for me to prep my discussion. We sat at the kitchen table.
I brought a pitcher of water, a glass, and a large spoonful of cookie dough. I made sure I had her full attention. As she watched me, I handed her the cookie dough. As I stretched out to her, I said, “As the first part of our talk, I just want you to know how much I love you. I am giving you this abundant amount of cookie dough just because I love you.”
She pushed it away. Actually, she whacked it out of my hand. Hmmm. At this moment I knew my assumptions are right. The kid needs to be loved, but just like her mom she is not good at receiving love. Remember that was #2 thing learned on my step to recovery. I said, “Oh, I am sorry, I guess you don’t want this. You must not want to know how much I love you.” She was still angry. I asked her if she wanted it, and in her “I don’t know what the heck I am feeling and why I am feeling this way” mood, she spit out, “No.” I give her one last chance, “O.k., that is fine, because it looks really good to me and I will eat it.” I put it up to my mouth and she snatched it out of my hand. So, she does want to be loved after all. Progress.
I then explained the theory of the love tank to Bella. I said to her that everyone has a love tank like this cup inside of them. It is what holds their love. People get their love tanks filled in many ways. They can fill it themselves, or they can get love from other people, or even their Father in Heaven or Jesus Christ. It can be filled when someone compliments them, or when they get a hug……etc. etc. Bella was intrigued. She started participating in the conversation, giving me ideas of how people feel loved. I then reminded her that I had just given her cookie dough and that it should add a few drops of love into her love tank. I also reminded her that she almost didn’t get that love because she so rudely swatted it out my hand.
So, we physically filled the tank, I mean the cup. Then, I said to Bella, “This next part is really important and I want you to understand this so that you can be happier. Bella, you are a lot like your mom and I didn’t learn this until this year and I wish I would have understood sooner.” “Bella, you and I, we have leaks in our love tanks.” Then, by her suggestion, we got out a plastic baggy and filled it. We cut off a corner and watched the love tank shrivel and die. I explained that because we have leaks in our love tanks, it stays shriveled up most of the time. When someone criticizes us, it hurts more than it does for other people because it’s not like them when they just get a scoop taken off the top, it’s like they take our shriveled tank and step all over it.
It got through to her because she immediately burst out in tears. “I don’t want a leak in my love tank!! Why do I have to have a leak in my love tank?” Yeah for me. It only took 10 minutes to successfully teach her item #3.
I said, “Don’t worry, you can fix it.”
Bella: “I don’t know how to fix it. I am going to have a broken love tank for forever.”
Me: “You can fix it. I’ve been fixing mine.”

Bella, crying in agony, “How?”
I then went on to explain that all she has to do are some really simple things. I got out some toothpicks. And demonstrated that she uses tools to stop her leak. At this point, I was glad she had gone back to sulking on the couch because I totally lied and told her that the toothpicks worked brilliantly at stopping the leak, when really they didn’t work at all.
I came up with four ideas for her. The first toothpick was that she should pray to her Heavenly Father to help her fix it. The second was to love herself. The third was to remember that people love her even if they correct her from time to time. And lastly, and most importantly, don’t forget that she has a leak and when she starts feeling sad, think about the love that leaked out.
So, needless to say, the kid now may not figure anything out for herself until she is past the age of 37 because I just completely screwed up a botched therapy session. But, I tried.
And because I am working on fixing my love tank, I am going to tell myself I did a great job, even if I didn’t.

Eric Carle

This will be a post without a picture because I would never ever dream of breaking the copyrights of Eric Carle. He is BY FAR my favorite artist, writer, and illustrator. You may be familiar with his work. Two of my favorites are Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you Hear? and The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

I was moved by this part of his autobiography in The Art of Eric Carle.

In 1935 I started school in Syracuse. I remember vividly a sun-filled room, large sheets of paper, colorful paints, and fat brushes. One day my mother was asked to see the teacher. Convinced that her son had misbehaved – why else would a parent be asked to come to the school? – she was immensely relieved to be told that her boy not only enjoyed drawing and painting but that he was good at it. It was impressed upon my mother that from now on she was to encourage and nurture this talent. This was advice she would honor for the rest of her life.

It struck me as I kept reading how this small experience of a teacher praising a talent in Kindergarten, totally and completely shaped the work of Eric Carle. His mother always encouraged him from that time forward and Eric remembered this as his initial moment of feeling talented.

I want to be the person who inspires others. I want to motivate by compliment. I want someone to do something great because I took a moment to notice something small. And what if I can multiply that by 100? And what if I multiplied that every day? And what if we all just tried to look for the good in each other? Would we all live a life that felt as nice and as happy and uplifting as any page of any book of Eric Carle?
To me, heaven couldn’t get much greater.