Seasons of the Heart

Is a good marriage one where you gradually become more and more alike over the years? You know, the ones where people start to say you look alike, speak alike, and act alike?  Like two streams running together into one, where the joined currents cut the riverbed deeper and deeper until that path is the only one to take?  Or is it , rather, one where two separate individuals grow more and more into their unique identities, held together by promises and mutual vision, like two oxen yoked to one plow?

I suspect that a healthy marriage is really not so simple as either one or the other, but instead is a mix of the two.  Or perhaps both, just in different ways and a different times.  Its an odd balance though.

At times, all you want is each other. On the big things, you agree.  You flow together in that one riverbed with amazement at how well you complement one another, at the joy and bliss and incredibly fulfilling experience of being one in so many ways.

At other times, its a bit more complicated.  The oxen are yoked, but learning to pull together in one direction is a process. With that basic yet consuming need for one another resting in trust, there are other dreams, other ambitions, other parts of life and living that must be dealt with, and somehow it comes as a surprise that your beloved has different ideas about some of those things.  Sometimes its just as simple as a novel concept, a practice or course they had never considered.  Other times, its becomes more sensitive, when the desire, the dream, the hoped-for course, is something that your mate actively does not want, never wanted, and struggles with.

(I'm not talking about anything harmful or sinful here.  Just the many available options that, for many reasons, we want or don't want.)

Do you sacrifice your direction, your hopes, your desires, giving them up for the discomfort they would cause your spouse?  Do you sacrifice your comfort so that your spouse can pursue cherished aspirations and dreams?  Do you both cling to comfort and end up with a life of the lowest common denominator, a compromise in all things?  Do you both cling to desires and end up pursuing two separate lives under the same roof?

Its a process.  There is amazing growth, both personal and relational, to be had in going with your spouse on the adventures of their heart.  You become so much more than if you just sit in the comfort of your own ways of seeing, doing, being.  It is also a wonderful thing to be given the gift of your loved one's sacrifice in order that you might blossom in ways that are uniquely your own and so desired.

Maybe the truth is that by living together in that mutual pattern of giving and receiving, sacrificing, yet still able to fulfill dreams, you both become uniquely yourselves and yet the same in the most important of ways.

A little cryptic, perhaps.  Just things I've been pondering.

Lots of Random Pictures from the last couple of months

Super-Nana!  Eden LOVED all the adventures that Nana was willing to include her in, like hauling wood, picking citrus fruit from a neighbor, visiting the chickens or the horses or the dogs, working in the garden plot, or just going for adventures.  I was so thankful!

Walking with cousin Chloe.

Lucy, not an hour old.  In my parent's kitchen, in Papa's arms.

Another snuggle time with Papa. It warms my heart to see my children as the recipients of my parents love and care.

Lucy, napping with Aunt Brynne.  Less than 2 weeks old.

I love the delight on my mom's face! A precious, though squished, moment, with four cousins and their Nana.

Lucy looks a little skeptical.

Another adventure with cousin Chloe!

Sisters!

Home in Alaska...Eden is going through cousin withdrawals and insists on including Lucy in her play.  She clearly indicated where I was to put each one of the elements of the above picture.

I just love this one!

Eden with homemade tub paints.  She loved it, and kept saying, "Rainbow! Rainbow!" as she smeared and glopped.

Out for a walk with her baby sometime in April.  She's making the baby wave "hello!"  The hat and socks were her additions to make sure baby Peter was warm enough outside. 

Babywearing - its never too early to learn!

"Yeah...my sister has a thing for hats... At least she didn't cover my eyes this time!"

Applesauce on the door sill on a lovely May day.

Where Eden gets her ideas about babywearing. :)

Mud Puddles

I felt so convicted in my heart today!  Sometimes, church is hard for me because, I realize, I am focused on all my responsibilities, my jobs, my calling vs. my mothering, my abilities to do what I think is needed or expected of me, the struggles to get my children acting the way they should so that they, and I, and those around us, can get anything out of the meetings.  I end up feeling inadequate and judged and defensive and hostile.

Wow! Writing it out is pretty harsh!

You know, that’s a sin.

Not a sin like murder or denying the Holy Ghost, or even maybe like stealing or lying, but a more pernicious and undermining one.  Those others are so obviously wrong that they are like huge pits.

“Oh, look! There’s a pit! Drive around it! Don’t fall in! Stay far away!” is the natural reaction.

Whereas, this…

This is like mud, starting shallow, and gradually becoming a quagmire, a sinking slime of quicksand.

A little mud is not a problem, right?

I mean, you can just drive right on through and come up on the other side just fine; wash the splashes off and none the worse for wear.  We all get muddy every so often, right?

Ok.

Right.  Much of the time that’s true.

But what about when the mud only gets deeper?  How can you tell, just by looking, whether it's a surface puddle or a deep morass?

You can’t always.  And you can’t always avoid the puddles.  But you can avoid some of them.  And thankfully, if you do find yourself in one of those puddles, you can choose where your intake valve is.  If its low, you’re going to suck up water and your motor will totally die – not only will you be spinning tires, you’ll internalize the water, the darkness, the sin, and you will lose that power, that light, that desire in yourself to keep going and get out of the mud.

If its high, you can keep that internal drive, even if you end up spinning tires for a while.  Thankfully, there is a celestial tow service on call.

Often the tow, the jump (if needed) comes from one of their agents here on earth.  After all, to paraphrase a prophet, the Lord hears our prayers, but it is often through a brother or a sister that he answers them.

But even when there is no one around us, no mortal nearby, no physical hand to hold, no warm arms to hug, no audible voice to hear,

Even then, He is there.

Jesus is our Savior.  He WILL save us, if we just ask and reach out to him.  The real sin of my heart in these times is a lack of faith, a lack of focus on Him, that allows me to be so bogged down and depressed.  That lack separates me from His marvelous love and light just as surely as one of the more “serious” sins would, yet I am less likely to notice and change myself, and it is less likely that I will be chastened, uplifted, encouraged, or gently brought along by my brothers and sisters.

(Not that I want anybody to come after me all the time with lectures and sermons and preachiness!! J I’m not asking for a personal avenging angel on my case!  I really appreciate the opportunity to exercise my agency and grow at my own pace, in my own personal relationship and walk with Christ!  I just mean, if we knew that there was a sister who was tempted to or in a situation where one of those more serious sins threatened, wouldn’t we be more apt to reach out, include, talk about our faith, show encouraging examples, praise the Lord (openly, though not ostentatiously) for his power and mercy, etc?  Like I said, I don’t want/need anyone to do anything different toward me – this is just my musings, working things over in my mind.)

Anyway, it is true.

I do need to do better.

There are some things I need to be more mindful of, more careful of.

Repentance is in order.

But most of all, the repentance that I need is the one that turns my heart away from my own small self,

my own failings (real and perceived),

my little wallow of pity-party and resentment and lack,

 and focuses on He who is the Light of the World,

He whose grace can make my weak things become strong,

 He whose strength is made perfect in weakness and

He loves me so much that He died for me.

It really is that simple.

It really is.

Now to do it.

(This started as a personal reflective writing, somewhat stream-of-consciousness, but then the puddle of mud metaphor came out of nowhere and I was reminded of several times we or various acquaintances here in Alaska have gotten stuck in puddles, or pits, or boggy mud out in the middle of the woods... and the rest just came out. ;) 

Eden Update

Our little girl is getting so big!

Lucy - Eden loves her little sister.  She calls her "Lu-Lu" (and is the only person allowed to do so!;) and when she's feeling super affectionate will upgrade it to "Lulu-Baba" or "Lulu-beebee," which I think is her version of "baby Lucy."  Sometimes its even just "Lu-Ba."  Eden is always excited to find Lucy lying in some accessible place - the floor, the couch, the jumper - and snuggles right up to her, laying her head on Lucy's chest much as she does with Nate and me.  Of course that pretty much squashes Lucy, but she's a good sport about it! She's also discovered that its hilarious to stick her finger as far as she can in Lucy's throat and watch/hear/feel her reaction.  I can pretty much guess exactly what she's doing when I here a certain delighted and uncontrollable giggling coming from around the corner.
Eden is very much a girl when it comes to colors, pink and purple being her definite favorites.  If there's a choice, those are the winners, whether in food, clothes, flowers, or toys.  She also knows green, blue, black and white sometimes, orange, and yellow.
Hats are required for any outfit to be complete.
Back in December, I brought home a DVD of The Nutcracker from the library.  I didn't know how she would react, but it turned out that she loved it and would watch it for as long as I would let her.  She would dance and twirl and fall down, only to get up and watch and dance again.  When we visited California, she learned a lot more about dancing from her aunts and her three year old cousin, and her passion for the Nutcracker continued.  These days she asks for the music three or four (or ten!) times a day, always with the same urgency and enthusiasm, and her dancing now includes jumping, twirls without falling down, spinning (which does result in falling down), and all sorts of creative and dramatic flourishes and kicks.  She'll dance with her dollies, with some little paper bears I cut out for her, with Mama or Daddy, or by herself.  She wishes Lucy would get up and dance with her - she'll grab her hand and pull up on it, exclaiming, "Up! Up!" - but that won't be happening for a while.
Speaking of the Nutcracker, one of the things she learned from her cousin was that the Nutcracker died at one point in the ballet.  So for nearly a month, everything "died."  Daddy, Mama, dollies, Lucy, Eden herself...she's very drawn to the dramatic and emotionally intense side of life. We tried to derail that obsession by telling her he didn't die, he just got broken.  So now everything is "broke."
Eden loves to read!  She wakes up and the first word out of her mouth is, "Eat!"  If we don't respond appropriately, she'll make sure we got the message by signing eat, first on herself, and then on us!  When we get downstairs, however, she switches from "Eat!" to "Read!"  She loves Curious George, a series of old Disney books my mom gave us, and Beatrice Potter's Jeremy Fisher, but she's pretty much an omnivore.  Last night I found her sitting on her blanket, poring over a massage manual.  It amazes me how much she comprehends of the spoken word.  She's only just beginning to be very verbal, but her understanding of conversations and oral storytelling is astounding.
We started Eden with elimination communication from the time she was about two weeks old and went through all the ups and downs of that.  By ten months she would tell us when she had to poop, and she did all her poops in the potty (except the occasional miss) and I must say, that has been SO nice.  We pretty much gave up on catching the pee though.  I thought I'd have her potty trained before Lucy, and then before we came back to Alaska, but that didn't happen.  So we got down to business a few weeks ago, and really focused.  For three days I changed many wet panties, pants, skirts, and tights, and mopped/soaked up numerous puddles.  I gave up.  I decided she must not be ready, and resigned myself to putting her back in diapers.  But that night she woke up at 4:30 am, bolted out of bed and ran to to potty and peed.  And every twenty minutes, for the rest of the night, wanted to get up and go potty.  I was so over it!  But we've progressed in our potty training journey from that day, and now she's in panties, except for naptime and bedtimes. (That's been its own struggle. She would ask to go potty at least 5 times every time we put her to sleep, and it was seriously delaying the process.  We finally came down to declaring, "If you're wearing panties, you pee in the potty.  If you're wearing a diaper, you pee in your diaper."  Maybe it will backfire when we want to get her out of diapers for good, but for now its the only way to get her to relax and go to sleep.)
Some other concepts and words she's been experimenting with  include "NO!" "Happy!" and "Cranky." When she's being cranky, we ask her if she wants to go to the cranky corner, a little alcove at the end of our entry hall. This is not framed as a punishment or a time out, just as a place to go to get yourself under control. She usually says yes, takes herself over there, stands there for a few seconds, and then comes out saying, "Happy!" It melts my heart, though, when she comes up to me, out of the blue, and tells me she's happy.  That is what I want for her!

Oh yes! She calls herself "Eenie," and she says oopsies, "eepoo!"

One more thing.  This update is about three months old! Eepoo! :) She has grown and changed so much that I need to do a whole new edition already.  I didn't want to lose this, though.

Just doing it!

I think about this blog at least once a week. Often several times in a day.
I really want to keep writing, updating, etc.
For some reason, uploading pictures is really complicated for me, and I have to get Nate's help each time, or I have to rediscover how to do it myself, which means that with both of us usually focused on other things, it doesn't happen.
And then I feel like I can't just put up another post of my thoughts, my musings, and basically just words because I haven't put up any pictures in who knows how long, even though I've been taking them and we have a whole file on the computer just for that.
So I brush the thought aside and keep on with my life, and the moment passes, and those thoughts fly onward, never to be exactly recovered (for good or for ill.)
But right now I decided to just write, and post, what I've been thinking.  My "readership" is probably next to nothing, thanks to the months of blog-neglect, but that's ok.  If someone reads these posts and enjoys them or thinks about them or gets anything good or interesting out of them, that's great.  If I'm pretty much just writing to myself, I'm fine with that too. :)  And if reading my blog irritates, offends, or gets under anyone's skin - they are welcome to move on.  No pressure to stick around!

I've been reading some really interesting books.  One is called "Nickel and Dimed," written by a journalist who did a life experiment of moving to several random places and trying to make all her ends meet as a minimum wage, entry level worker.  She tried it in Key West, some beach town in Maine, and the Twin Cities area in Minnesota, working as a waitress, in hotel housekeeping, with a maid service, as a "dietary aide" in an Alzheimer's ward of a nursing home, and at Walmart.  The first four jobs, she worked two at a time. Basically, it didn't work out.  After giving each situation a try for several weeks, she ended up concluding that it was almost impossible to make ends meet for the basics of housing, food, and transportation, not to mention even thinking about providing for an emergency, even working two minimum wage jobs at once.  And that was beside the way she felt looked down on, manipulated, abused, and totally dead-ended.  She narrates her experiences, bringing to life the people that surround her, people that are not going to go back to a different life with the ease that a little (or a lot!) more money and education might afford them, people for whom these jobs are real life.  I found myself strongly reminded of working in a daycare in Florida...
I must admit, this book left me a little depressed.  But it did get me thinking about the ways that I am privileged!  The privilege it gave me to have parents who emphasized the importance of education, and who provided for me and looked after me so that I could do things like finish high-school and go into college, and then get scholarships to go away and finish college.  The privilege and blessing it is to have a strong support network literally anywhere I go, whether it be family I can call on, or the local ward.  It is so easy to take for granted, even if we never use it, the help that is available just from calling our bishop, our Relief Society President, our Elders Quorum president, or even just visiting or home teachers.  And then there is the privilege of being able to stay home with my children and to be a full-time homemaker for my family.  I'm SO thankful that Nate can provide for us so that I can do this, and so thankful that he agrees with me that this is the best and most important thing I can do for our family.  And I'm privileged and blessed to be able to pass that privilege and blessing on to my children, as I love and teach and care for and set an example for them, one on one, here in our home.
Its an interesting read.  Its definitely not one of those "don't miss it" books, but if you have time and you find it, it's worth it.  Just remember, even if you don't read it, be thankful for the privileges that are yours.

I am not so different...

I've heard about how parents are, surprisingly, not uncommonly the ones to introduce their children to smoking, drinking, and illegal drugs. 

I've wondered, "How could they do that?"

Even if you, yourself, were addicted or used those substances, isn't it obvious (not to mention extremely well publicized) that they are BAD FOR YOU!!??  What parent, in their right mind, gives their child things that are bad for them?  Knowing the love I feel for my girls and the desires I have for them, and imagining that it is nothing out of the ordinary - don't all parents feel that way toward their precious children? - I have often marveled at how this could happen.

But, you know....

I just realized, I am not so very different.  

No, my substance is in no way illegal, nor is it particularly harmful (though there are some that would say it is.:) 

No Bake Cookies.  Globs of peanut buttery, chocolately, oatey deliciousness.  Some even have tender little marshmallows hidden inside.  Oh, my.  

I'm having a very hard time resisting them.  We made a double batch to share, on Sunday, and though we did share some, there are far too many still sitting on my kitchen counter.  Maybe the oats make me feel like they are healthier than regular cookies, but I highly doubt the truth of that conclusion.  Whatever it is, I have been eating WAY too many.  A quick fix to hunger, soothing distraction to frustration, loneliness, whatever the emotion of the moment, and generally just fun to consume.

Eden came up to me as I stood there eating my fourth (shame!) and wanted some.  And though I knew she really didn't need one, wouldn't be better off for having one, I gave her some.  Because I was enjoying it.  

(Ok, I do realize there is a big difference between cookies and drugs.  And I am one of those moms who lets her kids have cookies, cake, ice cream, dessert, etc, when we have it.  I certainly don't adhere to the school of no treats or no sugar. I think its good to share good things in moderation!)  

But in that moment, I felt a sudden epiphany burst upon me.  Here I am, doing what I know I should not be, and including my daughter.  Its fun.  Its tasty.  It feels good in the moment.  

A sudden insight into a pocket of unconscious pride.  

I am not so very different.

Good inspiration to be who I should be more consistently.

my dream job + reality/a humbling day

I love being a stay-at-home mother.

No, let me say that again.

I LOVE being a stay-at-home mother.

It is my dream job.

I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing!

These were the thoughts that ran through my head last Monday night, as I looked at my precious daughters lying on either side of me in peaceful slumber.  The room was darkened to a comfortable twilight by blackout curtains, and the memory-foam of the bed was warm enough to make us a cozy snuggle, but not yet warm enough to make us a sweaty pile.  I re-played the day in my mind.

Busy, it was, but with the calm, ordered busy-ness of just enough time and tasks to fit well together.  We'd gone for a walk outside, since the weather was finally starting to warm a little. (A high of 35, but that's great compared to 18!)  We'd read stories upon stories.  We'd danced to the Nutcracker.  I made our Monday night dinner of beans and bread, warm and fresh and filling and tasty.  The laundry was not only washed, it was folded and put away!  The girls had gone down peacefully for a nap, slept well, been cheerful all afternoon, and bedtime had proceeded like clockwork.  Daddy was home from an all weekend flying job.  Yes, I loved my life. 

I thought of all the ways that my job was the best.  :)

I am my own boss.  

I don't have to think about what I'm getting paid, how many hours I lack or am overtime, or losing my job.

I get to work with my favorite people.

I get to choose when and how I do what I have to do, and even (to a certain degree) decide what, exactly, I do have to do.

I get to pour out my best, my love, my enthusiasm, my desires, without stint.

I get to confront problems and then find and implement the answer. (I love to do that kind of trouble-shooting, research, whatever you want to call it!)

If I want to change things - I can!  If I like the way I'm doing it - I don't have to change!

I nuzzled my toddler's hard little head, butted up against my cheek, and gently squeezed my baby's soft, dimpled arm, and gloried in my blessings.

And then there was Tuesday.

Smack in the face reality.

Mom-Fail.

(At least that's what it felt like.)

Everything just started off on the wrong foot! I was distracted, Eden was excitable and mischievous, and Lucy was needy.  The morning was frittered away on unimportant bits and pieces, as all my nice plans and goals dripped down the drain.  Panties were wet (multiple times), food rejected and thrown overboard, and toys strewn hither and yon.  My patience wore thin.  Lucy was hungry but then had a burp and wouldn't settle to eat, or she finally slept only to be rudely awoken by Eden's loving ministrations.  My patience wore thinner.  Naptime came, finally!  The "reset" button to the day, if you will.  My hopes were doused when it became a huge power struggle - Eden wouldn't go to sleep, I wouldn't let her get up, so we all stayed on the bed til 2 o'clock, with Eden whining, kicking the wall, kicking her mama, standing on her head, burrowing under the covers, sucking on the wrong end of her water bottle, triumphantly getting up to go to the potty and then coming back and throwing a fit all over again at the prospect of laying down.  And of course, me reacting to each of her actions.  I knew I was making it worse, but I was tired and fed up and couldn't seem to break the cycle!  More than once, she got quiet, and then quieter, and stiller, and was alllllmost asleep....and then realized it and woke herself up again with silliness.  

So we got up, and she was a whiny mess of tired toddler, and I was a fed-up mess of tired mama, and what did I do? 

Basically ignored her for the rest of the afternoon.  

I know.  Not something I'm terribly proud of.  

I just did other stuff, took care of some emails, fed Lucy, and benignly neglected my Eden. 

Not out of calm, thought-out, mommy strategy, but out of sheer "I can't deal with this right now!" desperation.

Funny thing is, she whined about for awhile.  She tried to get me to engage. (I did; I wasn't being mean, I just took care of whatever she really needed and then left her to her own devices.)  And then she just started playing on her own.  She crashed her little bike and the kiddycar on the kitchen floor.  She scattered her (dry) beans all over.  She dumped out the Duplos, and piled her stuffed animals under the coffee table.  Books were here, there, and everywhere!  The house was a disaster.  

I just tuned out the whiny-ness and the mess, and wrapped myself up in a bit of calm.

Then I had to change Lucy's diaper.  I buzzed her chubby tummy, and made silly sounds at her.  Suddenly I heard Eden's giggle, and looking over, saw her leaning on the axle of her upside-down bike, watching us, and laughing uncontrollably.  She was a pumpkin, past the stage of irritability and coming into the slap-happy giggles.  

Who can resist a little girl giggling? Everything I did made her laugh harder, until I was laughing out loud too.  Reset.

We giggled and were silly, ate an improvised dinner, had a splashy bath and went to bed.

I still love being a stay-at-home mom, even on the hard days.  But those humbling days do make me not take myself so seriously!