She knows

This week one of my favorite elite marathoners (and mother of two) wrote:

"My glass is always half full. It’s how I perceive the world, my life, my running, my family. Sometimes it’s full of wine, sometimes full of crap, and sometimes full of crazy busy schedules but it’s always half full." --Stephanie Bruce (When the Glass is Half Full, Sept 2016)

I don't usually deal with wine and I avoid using the word crap, but the meaning of this quote is dead-on: the glass is half full--no guarantees what it's half full OF, but stay positive about it! Haha! Perspective. I had a run-in with motherhood fatigue on day one this week, and my glass was definitely not half full of anything I wanted to drink! I re-learned a couple of vital lessons in motherhood in a few short hours, so I attempted to write them down, although this didn't turn out quite as neat or organized (or concise!) as I hoped it would.

Monday was another day at home home home with sick kids--the start of week three with one or more sick folks in our house. I had all three kids home on Monday. Well, Amber was healthy. Jay was 80% there. Rose had a ways to go. It's strange that I've been feeling so cooped up the past two weeks with this sickness, because in general I'm a total home body and usually prefer staying home over going out and about. And we DID go go go everywhere all over the place on Saturday! (hello, Balloon Rally and Connell murals) But these past two weeks have been rough anyways. I think a lot of it has to do with the strain of dealing with pathetic cranky sick kids/husband all day every day without a real break. It's exhausting and draining and makes me want to go on a ten mile run all alone to replace my nebulous emotional frustration/exhaustion with something more tangible, like muscle fatigue.

Jay went back to school on Tuesday, but he stayed home on Monday, and let's just say that my breaking point occurred in the wake of a very poopy incident at 8:20am Monday morning. By that point I had already been up for nearly 3 hours, and was feeling very tired and emotional. I had been trying to get ready to go on a run so I could take a much-needed shower afterwards but things kept happening to get in my way.

I got everything under control and then collapsed on the chair in my room and called my mom for a little pick-me-up. She is SO PATIENT! And so understanding! I feel lame for always calling her in moments of pitiful pathetic distress, practically begging for words of encouragement and sympathy. But she always builds me up, tells me that she's glad I called and she likes talking with me and she sees it as a compliment that I call her when I need to talk. That got me going even more and I enumerated a bunch of other things that have been on my mind lately. Her kind words made my emotions that were already close to the surface spill over in tears. My dear mom and her unconditional love.

Life as a full time mother has unique challenges. The rest of the household rarely notices even a fraction of what the mom does, from the endless daily cycle of dirty dishes and laundry, to planning, shopping, and prepping meals on a budget, and everything in between. I know I never really understood or appreciated all that my mom did when I lived at home! Kids just don't need to notice those things, so they don't. It's not like I do these things FOR recognition or praise, but every now and then I feel trampled and just ache for a kind word or for some sincere thanks. I don't know how many of those trampled needy feelings are from sleep deprivation, cyclical hormones, the devil, or just from my personal love language that craves words of affirmation. It's probably a combination of all four. My family is not ruthless and ungrateful; they're actually sweet and good, and I love them. When I'm feeling worn thin, though, an extra kind word or two of appreciation goes a lonnnnng way.

My dear mom is the antidote. She KNOWS. She's been there. She gets it when I say I love my kids but I want to hide from them sometimes. She KNOWS what I mean when I try to have a clean house but it's somehow still a mess. She understands when I tell her my worries and concerns about my kids. She KNOWS about that bone-deep exhaustion that never quite goes away because someone always needs something. I always feel better when I talk to her. Her perspective is so necessary. Of course I talk with my husband about this stuff, and he is always kind and patient, but there's something about telling it all to my mom that just HELPS. Women connect in different ways and on different levels with each other than we do with our menfolk. Neither connection is superior, but both are meaningful and necessary. My mom automatically KNOWS and understands in a way that my husband can't. When I'm worn out from the demands of motherhood and life, she automatically KNOWS what to say that will lift me just high enough so I can find my feet again and keep on moving forward. I wish everyone could have a mom like mine on speed dial!

When I was 15 I used to babysit sometimes for a family whose oldest daughter--Sarah--was about 9 years old. We aren't that far apart in age, but back then she was just young enough to need a babysitter and I was just old enough to be the babysitter. Now she's grown up, a talented photographer, and married with two darling kids. Last week Sarah wrote about what she hopes that her four year old daughter knows, and her thoughts really fit in with my musings:

"I struggle to know if I’m teaching her to be strong and independent enough without crushing the gentle femininity that naturally encircles her. I long for her to know she can be whatever she wants to be, which right now happens to be an astronaut mom. I hope she knows she can continue to be smart, strong and hardworking all while wearing a little lip gloss...

So here I am, the mother of a daughter of God who is timid and brave, smart, kind and beautiful. Doing my best to follow her where her free heart and love of learning takes her. Ready to sometimes let her fall, but always be there pick her up and dust her off when she does. Hoping she knows how much she is capable of. Hoping she continues to love this beautiful thing called life. Above all, hoping she knows how very much she is loved." (Sarah Wells, i hope she knows)

First of all, isn't that such a beautiful glimpse of a mother's heart? I loved reading these words of reflection. They resonated with me because I've felt similar feelings about my own daughters. When I was writing in my journal Monday night about my Mom's ability to pick me up and dust me off when I'm down (even over the phone), I found myself remembering these words from my friend Sarah. Even though I didn't fully understand all of the similar sentiments that I'm sure my own mom had about me when I was four, I DO know those things now. Even though my own daughters don't fully understand these things now, they will someday. My mind's eye zoomed out on LIFE for a few seconds and I saw the big, glorious picture of mothers who know, guiding and raising daughters who know in a big long chain of generations. It was beautiful, with knowledge and understanding growing as it was shared back and forth between mothers and daughters. I feel so blessed to have that connection in my life. It strengthens my love and respect for my own mother when I think of her in terms of how I see my own daughters. 

Sarah's words and my own resulting reflections reminded me of Julie Beck's talk from nearly ten years ago, called Mothers Who Know. I first heard this talk before I had kids, and the longer I'm a parent, the more meaning I find in it. My heart feels warm and strong and whole when I read:

"The responsibility mothers have today has never required more vigilance. More than at any time in the history of the world, we need mothers who know. Children are being born into a world where they “wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places” (Ephesians 6:12).1 However, mothers need not fear. When mothers know who they are and who God is and have made covenants with Him, they will have great power and influence for good on their children...

Mothers who know are willing to live on less and consume less of the world’s goods in order to spend more time with their children—more time eating together, more time working together, more time reading together, more time talking, laughing, singing, and exemplifying. These mothers choose carefully and do not try to choose it all. Their goal is to prepare a rising generation of children who will take the gospel of Jesus Christ into the entire world. Their goal is to prepare future fathers and mothers who will be builders of the Lord’s kingdom for the next 50 years. That is influence; that is power." --Julie B. Beck (Mothers Who Know October 2007 LDS General Conference)

Pure, beautiful BALM to my motherly soul right there. I could never survive parenthood without the gospel. Happy sigh. Back to Monday and its resolution...

Monday afternoon I decided that instead of stressing about all of the things I couldn't get done with a bunch of sick kids in the house, I would start focusing on the things I COULD do at home to feel successful and productive. Oftentimes when I have a few particular things that I've been planning on doing but haven't been able to do (like the grocery shopping recently) I kind of stall out and can't see past those Things. I let the out-of-town Costco trip go and settled for a post-dinner, in-town Safeway grocery trip instead. I picked up the clutter of kids' magnets that have been bugging me, lying around the floor by the fridge for the past week (Amber only likes taking magnets off of the fridge). I put them in a baggie up high out of reach. A little balloon of angst/stress was released from my bundle when I picked up the magnets, and I felt lighter. I moved on to wipe the counters. Another balloon of stress floated upward and out of sight. Feelin' good! Next I shoveled crumbs out of the kitchen--I mean, I swept the kitchen floor. That released at least five or six stress balloons--the floor was practically knee deep in crumbs since my sick people eat lots of crumbly crunchy toast. I rinsed and stacked the dishes: my clenched fist full of stress-balloons was loosening. It felt GOOD to let them go! I decided that we had enough soup leftover for another dinner--TEN stress-balloons floated away.  I ended Monday with a satisfied, accomplished feeling. The day tried to run away with me, but I caught up with it in the nick of time!

Motherhood is full of countless challenges that often take the shape of mundane tasks like cleaning, cooking, and driving. Some weeks those tasks feel so overwhelming! I'm thankful for the brief glimpses I get every now and then of mothers who know, who help me know that motherhood may not fit in a tidy little box, or be a glass half full of anything that's safe to drink, but it is influence. Motherhood is power! Above all, motherhood is love.