Motherhood

The Art Fart

I really hope Sophia doesn’t decide to read the blog today.
I do believe she’d die of embarrassment.
I must write though
because it’s stories like this that I don’t want to forget.

And I do forget.

I forget as early as next week if I don’t write it down.

LG’s been playing with new camera more than me. I love it.
We finally got Sophia into an art class.
She has shown a real propensity for art since she was a toddler,
and I am so grateful we finally have the means to help her along.
Check out her very first project.
I dare you to say she’s anything less than a prodigy.

And now, here’s a little art fart funny from Friday.
I went into the studio to tell Sophia that I was there to take her home.
She was happily working on a picture of SpongeBobSquarePants in colored pencil.
Next to her was the cutest boy about the same exact age
working on what looked like a tribal tattoo.
They were both having a blast doing the art thing while bantering back and forth.
It made this mom very happy to see Sophia in her element.
When you know something about your kid, you just know.
And I have always known that Sophia has the soul of an artist.

Minutes later Sophia bounds out to the car and we head home.
I zone out thinking about all I have to do
to get out the door that evening in time for
a friend’s birthday party and a choral concert of my nephew at BYU.
All of the sudden Bella and Sophia are cracking up.
I ask them what was so funny.
Through fits of laughter they tell me.

Sophia – Nooooooo, don’t tell her.
Bella – I have to. Sophia likes __________!! (I can’t remember his name)
Me – (Not surprised in the least.) What’ so funny about that?
Sophia – Nothing. Nothing.
Bella – Well, Sophia and _______ were messing around hitting each other and being silly.
Sophia – STOP! Bella don’t tell her.
Bella – And then Sophia…
Sophia – (butting in because if the story is going to be told, she’s going to tell it) We were just playing around, and all of the sudden I farted. It just came out. I couldn’t help it.
Me – Oh my gosh, how embarrassing. Did you just die?
Bella – It gets worse mom.
Sophia – So then the teacher comes in and asks us if we need anything.
Bella – And _____________ says, “Do you have a clothespin?”
Me – Did it stink?
Sophia as red as a beat – “I guess so.”

This may not seem funny to any of you, but it’s moments like this when I just love being a mom. It is so fun to watch your kids grow up and become adults who are embarrassed by bodily functions.

Now, here is something to make it up to Sophia whenever she reads this story.
Sophia brought this home last year from school after the class all wrote down anonymous compliments.
She is one cool kid, even with the gassy gas.

And me, you ask?
How’s the photography going?
Well, it’s going when I squeeze in the time.
Here is one of my practice shots
while I was outside the art studio waiting on Sophia.
We are learning about aperture.
Photography is art.
Maybe I should leave it up to Sophia.
It’s a lot more complicated then I expected.
(That’s why I’ve dragged LG into the hobby,
he’s my scientific go-to man.)
Check out my the website of my super cool teacher.

Here’s a photo of another one of my cool kids.
She’s taking a cooking class right now.
I’ve always known that Bella would grow up to be a beautiful cook.
Shooting action is more difficult
especially without the right lens
but here is our Abigail.
I always knew she’d grow up to be a soccer star.
Caroline.
Notice that she’s reading dad a bed-time story.
At 6 pm.
That’s how it goes around here.

Isn’t he cute?
I do believe my car is in need of a wash.
And here is LG’s latest project.
An expose about the life of a housewife.
Cleaning, cleaning, cleaning.
All the time.
Even on Sunday.

Embracing mom-hood

I’m learning to embrace my mom-hood.
It’s kind of like man-hood, but with boobs.
And a whole lot of other stuff.
I have recently learned something about myself.
Something that has never dawned on me before.
I’m insecure in my parenting.
I don’t know why,
I really am a pretty darn good mom.
I can only remember one time with my kids got in trouble in school.
Abigail was in kindergarten and she got written up for writing on her desk. In pencil.
What can I say? She was my first.
My kids are well-rounded.
They are kind for the most part.
Why should I be insecure?
I am now going to resist listing their good traits.
Because I am trying to learn to NOT need to do that.
It’s not healthy.
My kids are MY KIDS.
What else do they need to prove to me?
Nothing.
They don’t need to be a certain way for me to love them.
And they certainly shouldn’t need to be a certain way for me to love me.
So in honor of embracing my impeerfections as a parent,
and in honor of the vulnerability 
that I’ve been learning about in Brene Brown’s book.
Here is the kind of mom I am NOT.
1- I am not an overly anal car-seat parent.
I don’t believe in making my kids ride in a car while suffocating.
(After posting this photo on facebook it was brought to my attention
that the straps should be tighter and the harness higher.)
Whatever.
I also usually don’t remember to remind my kids 
to put on their seat-belts til we are at least 
out of the driveway and usually we are down the street a ways.
2- I hope to have one more baby to test this next mom item out,
but I don’t believe I will ever be one of those wrapper moms.
Kind of like rapper mom, 
but with a big long blanket that goes around your whole body.
And inside the blanket is a baby,
wrapped to your body.
Clinging to you for their very life,
like a car-seat will kill their brain cells.
Hmm, maybe I am a car-seat mom after all.
I am a total believer in the baby carrier.
Always have been, and I believe I always will be.
I also secretly hope that my hubby would never
be a wrapper-dad.
I just don’t find it sexy at all.
Unless we are in the African jungle,
and it would be the only way to keep the baby safe.
You know straddling his chest,
while he takes his machete to fight off the warthog,
that might be sexy.
3-My three year old goes to bed with a 
sippy cup of chocolate milk every night.
It is just a little bit of chocolate
and we only added the chocolate because my mom
ruined the perfectly good white milk on her last visit.
I have no intention of changing this tooth decaying habit
until  my dentist tells me I have to.
It’s hard enough to get the kid to bed,
and at least we can bribe her with the cup.
And let’s face it,
I’m soooo over it by 10 pm
when we finally get her to bed.
4-I put my three year old to bed at 10 pm.
If any of you would like to come over and wrestle her to sleep earlier
or keep her from her 4:00 nap every day,
more power to you.
5- In the summer my kids and I stay up til midnight
and we all usually sleep in until at least 10 am.
I always laugh at the parents who say they would love
for their kids to sleep in,
but, “THEY JUST WON’T,
I’ve tried keeping them up.”
Yeah, well, you have to keep them up for longer than one night.
Keep them up late for a week,
and I promise they will sleep in.
I think some parents take pride in their
early to bed, early to rise schedule.
I might be one of them if I could ever do it.
6- I really really love Little Ceasar’s Pizza
and Taco Tuesdays at Del Taco.
I wish my hubby would let us eat out every night.
I don’t really enjoy cooking
unless I am in the mood to bake.
I’m a good cook,
it’s jut not my thing.
7-I only change my kids sheets as needed.
Sometimes we can go a couple of months,
especially when they sleep on top of their comforters.
A few dead skin cells
obviously doesn’t kill them.
8- I only scrub my showers on a bi-monthly basis.
Get over it.
9-I make my kids fold their own clothes
and let their drawers be messy
if that’s how they roll.
10- I yell at my kids,
but try to minimize that to
only once a day,
and even then I save the
really angry tone
for the big time
(like when they run in the street
and almost get hit by a car)
and then I hug them real tight
because I am so relieved that they didn’t get themselves killed.
All while secretly knowing
it wouldn’t have been themselves
to get themselves killed,
but my crappy parenting.
And there you have my worst fear.
I am totally anxious about my kids
growing up.
I don’t want them to be living proof
that I was the crappiest mom in the world.
Oh but Alice,
the only thing a parent needs
to be a good parent is love.
Well, if I could just convince myself of that
then I might be ready for what awaits me.
Please God, don’t let them go to jail
or get in a car accident
while not wearing their seat-belt.
The six cavities I can handle,

and the emotional immaturity,
and the inability to organize,
and the one who calls home from school once a week
because she needs more love,
and the whole nail polish kit
left outside for a week
with most of the caps off,
(they were outside because
they’ve been banned from inside)
the couches with marker stains,
the occasional B on a report card,
the one who is just like her dad,
and the other one who is just like her mom,
and the one who just never shuts up,
ever.
I can handle all of that,
and probably a lot more than I realize,
but my prayer
is that you don’t let any physical harm
come to them because of my
inabilities and weaknesses
and the fact that I didn’t want them
strapped to my chest
because I was just happy
for them to do their own thing.
So that I could do mine.
Please make sure your 
guardian angels make up the difference.
Because really,
that’s all a mom can do.
Admit it.
Get over it.
And leave it in the hands of God.
Now, the way this works is you tell me something
about your parenting that makes you vulnerable
and then we leave our kids at home
with their dad while bonding over Olive Garden breadsticks.
You can tell me that you are really good at all of the above,
only if you are willing to dish out a list of 10 of your own
where you suck.
Because perfectionism is a myth,
and the sooner we all embrace that,
the happier we will be.

40 pounds

Our landlord came over today.
We’ve never met in person before.
The only place she has ever seen me
is on my blog.
Coincidentally, my blog is how she
decided to rent to us last April.
She walked in the house
and said,
“Wow, you look so different than I expected.
You look so different than your blog.”
I said,
“I’ve lost forty pounds since that blog photo.”
Then she said she could really tell
and that I should update my photo.
I decided to do a little experiment and take a photo to compare.
I do believe there is a difference.
A toddler size difference.
The side by side was validation
for all that running
and calorie counting.
I so wish I could have a baby without gaining
that forty pounds back.
But, I am grateful for the knowledge 
that my parents raised me to have.
Family is what matters most.
And guess what?
I have a family that loves me
no matter what size I am.
And I have four wonderful children
who are extremely grateful to me
for not placing my appearance
at such a high priority that
they were completely erased
from this world.
I know of many women
who determine their self-worth
by size.
I want you all to know
that I was just as important 
to my God, my husband, and my children
in that before picture.
And I will keep that picture on my blog,
even though I can now change it out for a skinnier version
because I love me
and I love that those old pounds represent
the time I spent with my children
and the months I gave to growing them inside of me
instead of obsessing at the gym
to please people in a world that
have screwed up priorities.
Yes, I feel a million times better
now that I exercise regularly
and eat healthier.
And yes there are women
out there who look great
and can have babies and go back to 
pre-baby size the day after birth.
Yes, there are women who
are healthy and not unhealthily obsessed with their weight.
Yes, yes, yes.
But me, I am probably going to gain my
forty pounds back
and I will probably gain more back after
the next baby is born
because having a newborn is stressful to me
and I get so tired
and choose to take care of my kids
over myself.
I may do better this time
as I have made great progress in 
the taking care of me category.
Or I may not.
But in the end,
I will have made the choice that matters most.
And that makes me happy
with the before and after pictures.

Adds Pounds

I copied this off of a friend’s facebook.
It portrays perfectly
how we let society influence
our sub-consciousness.
I’ve lost about 40 pounds in the past year
and I’ve been feeling pretty good about myself.
Not because I’m skinnier
but because I am healthier and stronger.
And then I got pregnant.
Happens every time.
It’s a good thing I don’t let society
tell me what to do.
Or I probably would have stopped a few kids ago
or at least at #4 when I was 36.
I miss you my bloggy friends.
I think I am going to start blogging more.
It seems to help me through pregnancy
and the newborn blues.

Journal entry

This photo has been sitting in my draft-box waiting for
some commentary and a publish button.
I think it speaks for itself.
My kids are hilarious.
You will have to guess which one wrote this.
Also, I do believe it is a great argument
for the therapeutic benefits of journal writing.

January 17, 2012
Today I lost the spelling bee
and drawing in my notebook
which happened to bee the only
thing that got my mind
off of the spelling bee
WHICH I WILL NOT
BE IN!!!! 😦 And mad
girls are way! meaner than any boy
in any place no matter how strong or
evil they are. And little 10 year
old mad girls are the 
WORST! Which I happen
to be one 10 year old girl.

And of course,
the best part of the whole thing
was the misspell on
bee.
It’s an even greater read when
you personally know the angry girls
who were also beat out of their chance
at spelling bee bragging rights.
Those bragging rights are a big deal in Utah.
Oops, I just tagged the guilty party. lol
At least now when I look back on this
in 10 minutes,
when I don’t remember my kids’ handwriting
I will remember who own this masterpiece.
I love being a mom.

Singing in the rain

When it rains, it pours.
I am sitting in the hospital with my dad right now.
He’s been here for 5 days.
He’s on the upswing and I am so grateful.
I am extremely grateful for my wonderful husband
who tells me
“Go, I’ll take care of everything.”
A few weeks ago,
our family lost
my nephew Braxton.
He’s dancing in heaven now,
where I imagine 
he can choose the weather.
Sitting down to my laptop this morning
I am happy to find these old photos.
What a great reminder that
sometimes
the best time to dance and sing
is when it rains.

My Baby

I do believe Caroline may be my last child. She is almost three and we haven’t gotten pregnant again, so I think God may have decided that four is enough for us.

Well if God didn’t decide it, Caroline did.
This kid is hard to handle. We love her dearly, but man she’s a handful. She is like the energizer bunny on crack. Serious.

It could just be that we are getting older, but I don’t remember our other kids having as much energy. It could be that she is the spoiled baby but I don’t remember the other girls having as much personality. It could be that she is just Caroline so I can’t remember my other girls being as cute. {I can say the same thing about all my girls}

Last night as we were having family prayer, Caroline was making us all laugh. It’s a common occurrence. She doesn’t have to do much but be herself and we are all in stitches. Last night she was just smiling. That’s it. But she kept doing it right as we were about to pray. She would get all serious when dad told her to be reverent but as soon as we were about to pray she would smile all huge. Of course none of us can take our eyes off of her.

There are so many things I want to remember about this kid that I haven’t written down. When they happen I think I have to write that down, but as soon as I sit down to type, they are just gone.

Caroline’s hair is out of control. We have always just let it be because she pulls out any hair thing as soon as we put it in. Her hair is always in her face. Lately she has taken up the preference for it to be out of her face. She will say, “I think I need a haircut.” That means I need a hair thing. The other day after Abigail had put her hair in pigtails she said, “I think I need two haircuts.”

She just got potty trained and she will say, “I think I need to go potty.” Not “I need to go”, but “I think I need to go.”

Every night after we lay her down to bed with her milk sippy she insists on bringing the sippy to dad when she is finished. I can’t take it from her, she has to give it to dad. She is such a daddy’s girl, but all of our girls have been daddy’s girl. I can’t say that I blame them.

She is a social butterfly. She loves other people. She especially loves her sisters and their friends. The other day while Abigail’s friend got in my van Caroline sat at the window blowing kisses shouting,  “I love you mom. I love you Katie.” What a dollface.

When we transferred her from bottle to sippy cup she was all confused. We were so bad and didn’t even do it until after she was two. Then my mom came to visit and introduced her to chocolate milk when she liked her plain milk just fine. Since then she has always requested her “chocolate milk bottle sippy cup.” All five words have to be used. End of discussion.

When she poops in the toilets she gags. I am assuming it’s the sight and not the smell that bothers her because she only gags when she looks. It makes me laugh.

She hates bugs. I never thought I would have one of those but she is downright freaked out by them especially if they are the kind that can fly.

She talks all day and sings ALL day. She makes up songs all the time. Her favorite song lately. “I love my mom. I love my mommy.” That’s one I can’t hear enough.

She always wants to color or paint. Nothing unusual about that, but I have to watch her good because she doesn’t stop at the paper. She has to use her body as a canvas and will even try to paint anything else she can get her hands on. One night when LG and I went for a date she got her hands on nailpolish. Nailpolish has been banned to the garage as we’ve found that she is deadly with it. I was glad that Katie was over because it forced me to keep my cool. We had to scrub scrub scrub carpets, walls, furniture and even all of Caroline. I think we got it all cleaned up, but it was NOT fun.

She always wants her pink blanky, AND her yellow one, AND her green one, and any blanky that she sees. “Mom, I need my blanky. I need my blanky with the flowers. I need my red one..” The girl is articulate and deliberate.

Getting her off the paci was painful, but after about three attempts over 6 months, she finally gave it up. She is also stubborn.

Piper is her best friend, and so are any other children that she happens to meet at the grocery store or ChickfilA or the park.

She wants to wear her church shoes everywhere. They took the place of her rain-boots that she wore for the whole year of 2011. She wore those until she literally couldn’t get her feet in anymore.

She is obsessed with eating bubblegum and using make-up. I can’t keep enough pink bubblegum or lipgloss in my purse. She finds them no matter what I do, and she uses as much as possible. The one good thing about this is that I always have a way to pacify her. At least for a few seconds.

She refuses to be contained. She doesn’t want to stay in the shopping cart or the stroller or even the bike trailer. We had to upgrade to her own seat on the back of dad’s bike because she was pulling the titanic on family bike rides. She had no trouble wiggling out of her seat belt and climbing to the top with her arms wide open so she could feel the wind on her face. She is the only child of mine that I have actually found myself justifying those crazy parents with the leashes.

She loves to play on “Phia’s i-pod” or “Bella’s i-pod” or “Abigail’s phone” or “Dad’s phone” or “Mom’s phone”. She also likes to leave all of these in impossible to find locations throughout the house and even in the yard if we don’t watch her close.

I am sure none of you are actually still reading this, but it makes me feel better to get a few things down so that in two weeks or two years but especially in 20, I will remember what this little girl was like.

Dear future Alice. I know you haven’t forgot. This kid was a handful and 1/2. And yes, she really was that cute too. Thank goodness. God knew what he was doing when he put that huge spirit in such a beautiful body.

Dear people

I know I am a blog slacker.
I’ve been blogging for food.
Literally.
I started working as a social media guru
for a local business.
Not sure if they want me to tell the world
over the internet
that I am their go-to gal,
but they give me free freezer meals.
It’s awesome.
Steak, shrimp, gourmet stuff
in exchange for my internet savvy.
Totally awesome.
Anyhow, I am sorry my bloggy friends.
I love you
and 
I miss you.
I just dug into my drafts 
to try and find something
to give you.
Throw you a bone,
so you won’t completely give up on me.
Here’s a goodie from Sophia.
My kids are serious about their soda.
When they buy it with their own money
they don’t want people backwashing in it.
I love my kids more than ever.
I love my husband more than ever.
They make me laugh,
and I am sad that I am not sharing that on here as much.
Because I will forget it
if I don’t write it.
I won’t forget that I love them
but I will forget the ways that they make me laugh.
I just want to let you all know that
if you improve in one area of your life
 you are bound to revert in others.
I have been doing really good at running.
I’ve lost about 30 pounds since November.
I have been doing really good with working.
(I have two part-time jobs)
I have been doing pretty good in the marriage department.
I have even been a half-way decent mom.
I potty trained Caroline.
I have bought myself some things,
grown out my hair, 
and told myself how much I love myself
every day.
And I am even starting to believe me.
I have accomplished some of my new year’s resolutions:
camping extravaganza, 
attend temple monthly, 
waking up with LG,
staying under budget,
but I have slacked in others:
read 54 books 
(I am way behind,
and really hopeful that 
I can crank them out this summer by the pool)
I have really been slacking with my spirituality.
My prayers and scripture study have not been where I want them to be.
My service to others outside my family hasn’t been enough.
My joy in church service hasn’t been where I need it.
It’s not that I am not doing these things at all,
it’s just that as I have added in more of other things,
I haven’t given it the same dedication
and I miss it.
One thing I learned in the South is to
GIVE MYSELF GRACE.
So I do.
But one of these days
I will be the whole package.
One of these days,
dear people.
But, really,
with giving myself grace,
I am doing magnificently.
Never been better.
Or happier.
Or healthier.
or pleased with myself.
Glory to God
for strengthening me
in all areas of my life,
just sometimes I have to choose which one.
If you want to read more
about how God strengthens us
go here.
So powerful.
and true.

Race #2

The whole family participated in a 5k together.
I would say it was our first, but LG did one last year with all the girls.
Caroline didn’t join us this time.
We got a sitter.
It was a great time
and we appreciated the chance to have some family fun
while exercising AND helping raise money for the kids school.
Have I ever told you how much I love my man?
Thanks LG for supporting me in my crazy adventures.
It was a small race,
but Abigail was 14th overall.
If she would have passed one female
she would have won a top 3 prize.
Funny she doesn’t really “run” persay,
but soccer really is a great sport for overall athleticism.
Next year Abigail’s goal will be to beat Ms. Shepherd
who was 2 minutes faster than her.
I was happy with my time.
32:35.
That is almost a two minute improvement
from my first race in January.
I’ll take it!
Little Miss Sophia came in 6 places behind me.
At the beginning of the race she was sticking right with me,
I thought she would beat me,
but all my training brought me in 5 minutes ahead of her.

LG was the best dad and stayed with Bella the whole way.
At the end I ran back to them
and offered to carry Bella up the hill
but LG said “NO WAY ALICE –
She has to finish by herself.”
What a smart dad.
This is what we all looked like at the finish.
Go Gold family.
Go here for official race results.

My dearest Abigail

My dearest Abigail,
Last week I wrote a whole post just for you 
after you sarcastically questioned what I do all day.
It took me an hour to write.
In detail I explained how my life revolves
around task completion.
80% of those tasks,
I do just for the happiness of my husband and kids.
When I switched from my laptop to my phone
to add this cute picture of your baby sister Caroline
(because it captured what I love about being a mom)
I lost the whole post.

I think God was watching out for me
because I intended to enter that post in an essay contest.
A few days later I thought of something better.
So instead of boring you with what I do all day,
here are my deepest thoughts about motherhood.
These are the thoughts I was too afraid to pen the first time
because I didn’t think I could do the topic justice.
How privileged we are to share the sacred name of mother.
Joseph Smith once said,
 “A man filled with the love of God, is not content with blessing his family alone, but ranges through the whole world, anxious to bless the whole human race.”

I cannot explain myself without this quote. I am at a loss of words to communicate the depth of motherhood. The sanctity of it. The power and pride I feel at being among some of the most noble humans on earth. 
I have been pondering motherhood for several weeks now and writing an essay that captures my thoughts is daunting. Yet, that quote by the wise Joseph Smith explains so simply exactly what I concluded.
Motherhood isn’t limited to those who have given birth. It isn’t even limited to a certain sex or age. Motherhood is a noun, but like it’s counterpart charity, it’s also a verb. In fact, motherhood is charity. Charity at its purest. You know how the Bible teaches that God is love. Well, I am here to tell you that motherhood is love.
Another wise prophet said that 
“motherhood is the highest, holiest service assumed by mankind.”
Let me put this in math terms for you my dear Abigail
since it’s one of your best subjects.
God is love.
Motherhood is the closest we come to godhood.
a=b, c=a, therefore c=b.
I am chuckling at myself because 
I don’t even know if those equations are correct,
but you will.
I look forward to you correcting or congratulating me.
Isn’t it amazing that I am your mother,
but you are smarter than me at math?
That’s another thing about motherhood,
that I can’t go into today.
Let me just say this:
anyone can be a mother.
Anyone can give love.
Anyone.
And everyone should
because love is desperately needed by so many.
Nothing is more disturbing than a mother without love.
I would like to tell you 2 of my most beloved family stories.
One is about my grandma and one is about my mom.
These stories capture motherhood.
I hope to be just like the women I came from.
I hope that for you too.
They are the closest thing I have on this earth
to know what God is really like.
If I want to know how I can be like God,
all I have to do is think about my mom and grandma.
My first story is one the greatest stories of the life of my Grandma Dorothy.
Years ago, in the 60’s,
there was a department store clerk who was really rude to her.
Her two daughters were outraged.
This was an outing they had scrimped and save for.
They were going to buy their mom her first item of clothing
from a nice fancy store.
Grandma walked them out of that fancy smanchy place
and took them down the street.
She purchased a cheap scarf and a box with a bow
at the corner Woolworth’s.
The corner five and dime was a place 
where she shopped the most comfortably.
She took the gift back to the rude sales lady
and said,
“I thought you must be having a really hard day,
and I wanted to cheer you up.”
The woman started to cry
and told my grandma, mom, and aunt
that she had been so grumpy ever since her husband had died
and felt like nobody cared about her
and she apologized.
My grandma gave her a mother’s hug
and told her that people did care.
My mom and her sister Shirley
stared on in awe of their amazing mother
and her humility, grace, and love.
It’s women like Grandma Dorothy that
truly make this world a place worth living.
Their accomplishments aren’t even recognized by the world
like those of politicians, athletes, scientists, and authors
but they mean everything to those who need it most.
Knowing what kind of woman my Grandma Dorothy was
will help you understand the kind of woman my mom is.
In 1985 or so another family legend occurred.
My mom and dad and my six brothers and sisters and I
were leaving Chuck E. Cheese.
We walked out into the parking lot to find an ensuing gang fight.
Weapons were drawn.
My mom walked right up to the two kids in the front
and said,
“Boys, why are you fighting?
It breaks our hearts.”
She then turned to my dad and said,
“Rick, buy these boys some pizza.
They fight because they have nothing better to do.
And they need to know that people care.”
To me, there will never live greater heroes then my mom and dad.
As I watched my dad (with so many mouths to feed already
and a limited paycheck) fork out the cash to feed
20 gang members I was in awe.
Even more inspiring was the sight of my mom seating all those rivals
across from each other in the showroom.
She so easily spoke to each one,
bantered with them, and loved them into their seats.
They had put their weapons away
and were anxiously waiting for their pizzas as the big gorilla sang
“so happy together.”
I watched with a little trepidation but mostly I was beaming with pride.
Especially as I saw my oldest brother,
(your Uncle Erick)
who was a little younger than these boys
follow in the foots of his parents
and sit down with the kids to chat.
As you know Erick is now a football coach and a teacher.
He loves on big tough kids every day.
I personally think he would be very smart if he tries to live his whole life
for just one moment like that from long ago.
And I think that he is living his life for that.
He wants to be embody the finest of motherhood.
(Don’t tell his football team that.)
Is motherhood not loving the forgotten and the unlovable?
My mom is loved by so many.
Many many times as a teenager
I would come home to see someone else’s kid
sitting at our kitchen table.
My mom would be wrapping up her pep-talk
telling them just how loved they were
and how capable and blessed.
She expected the best from everyone’s kids.
She did this because if she knew one thing in this world
it was that love conquers all.
Love makes the world go round.
Love is all you need.
Grandma Dorothy didn’t think she was defining motherhood
during that simple little act of service
given in that small frame of time
in a place that no one noticed.
She was just being the person that she always was.
She was being a person who loves.
She was being a mother.
My mom didn’t love on kids because
she wanted some kind of recognition,
she did it because love was instilled in her
by her mother.
Forty something years later
because of this story
Grandma Dorothy’s grandaughter (me)
would hand over the fresh flowers she had just splurged on
to the cashier at Wal-Mart.
The elderly cashier had just confided
that she was feeling lonely this holiday season.
It would be her first without her husband.
I told her, “Please take these flowers;
I really feel like your husband wants you to have them
as a reminder that he loves you and is watching over you.”
Tears filled both of our eyes.
Motherhood was revealed in this tender exchange.
Motherhood and love.
Yes, my dearest Abigail, motherhood is a verb.
It is love.
Someday in the near future
(maybe even today)
I imagine you reaching out
to someone in need:
a kid at school who is obviously neglected, a homeless person,
a friend who is lonely, a new neighbor, or the sick, poor, elderly, downtrodden.
I imagine the smile that will cross your face.
It will be exactly like that smile you got in the car
that day when your buddy Ryan revealed he
got a rose at school from a secret admirer.
He was so happy and dumbfounded.
He had no idea it had come from you
because you had noticed that he didn’t get anything.
I will never forget your smile.
I made sure to see it in the rear-view mirror
while driving home the carpool.
You probably thought I was looking at Ryan,
but I was really looking at you.
In that moment, in you,
I saw my mom and my grandma.
I saw the face of God.
The face of love.
Yes! a=b, c=a, b=c.
Even if that isn’t correct math
my dearest Abigail,
I hope you will always remember
that motherhood is love.
And you can be a mother
at all times, in all places, and in all things.
And nothing will make you happier.

This post was written for my dearest Abigail and the nienie “motherhood is” essay contest
and anyone else who will be inspired to be a better person by my amazing mom and grandma.
Thanks be to God for giving me the inspiration and the courage to write it.


I just read that I was limited to 500 words, here’s the short version. Not as good.

My dearest Abigail,
Motherhood isn’t limited to those who have given birth. It isn’t even limited to a certain sex or age. Motherhood is a noun, but it’s also a verb. Motherhood is charity. Charity at its purest. You know how the Bible teaches that God is love. Well, I am here to tell you that motherhood is love.
Let me tell you two of my most beloved family stories to illustrate my point.
Years ago, in the 60’s,
there was a department store clerk who was really rude to my Grandma Dorothy.
Her two daughters were outraged.
Grandma walked them out of that fancy place
and took them down the street.
At the corner Woolworth’s,
she purchased a cheap scarf and a box with a bow.
She took the gift back to the rude sales lady
and said,
“I thought you must be having a really hard day,
and I wanted to cheer you up.”
The woman started to cry
and told my grandma, mom, and aunt
that she had been so grumpy ever since her husband had died
and felt like nobody cared about her
and she apologized.
My grandma gave her a mother’s hug
and told her that people did care.

Next, around 1985 another family legend occurred.
My mom and dad and my six siblings and I
were leaving Chuck E. Cheese.
We walked out into the parking lot to find an ensuing gang fight.
Weapons were drawn.
My mom walked right up to the front kid and said,
“Boys, why are you fighting?
It breaks our hearts.”
She then turned to my dad and said,
“Rick, buy these boys some pizza.
They fight because they have nothing better to do.
And they need to know that people care.”
How inspiring was the sight of my mom seating all those rivals
across from each other in the showroom.
She so easily spoke to each one,
bantered with them, and loved them into their seats.
They had put their weapons away
and were anxiously waiting for their pizzas as the big gorilla sang
“so happy together.”
I watched with a little trepidation but mostly I was beaming with pride
as the power of loving others burned into my heart.
Yes, my dearest Abigail, motherhood is a verb.
You are the best of motherhood.
You proved it the day you
got a rose at school for your buddy Ryan.
He hadn’t received any all week
and you sent him one as his secret admirer.
I will never forget your smile
as he showed us his rose on way home from school.
I made sure to look at you in the rear-view mirror
while driving home the carpool.
You probably thought I was looking at Ryan,
but I was really looking at you.
In that moment, in you,
I saw my mom and my grandma.
I saw the face of motherhood.
The face of God.

The face of love.