A Pure Stay at Home Mom

A few weeks ago, Nic and I attended a class for becoming a licensed Ham Radio operator. It may sound like a random thing, but we've been pretty excited about it. (And here's a little sidenote to my story--we took the test and passed. We are now official Amateur Radio technicians. We have call signs and everything! We're cool, roger that!) Anyway, the class was on a Saturday and lasted for four hours. During one of the breaks, I had the following conversation with an older lady:
Older Lady: Hi Jolene. Where's your cute boys today?
Me: They're at home with my sister.
Older Lady: Oh, that's so nice. You are so lucky to have your sister around to help you.
Me: Yes, I'm so lucky to have her. I don't know what I would do without her.
Older Lady: If you didn't have her to help, then you would have to be a pure stay at home mother like I was.
Me: ????????

What did she mean by that? Was she implying that I am an impure stay at home mother? What does that mean? At first I was baffled by her comment. Then I felt defensive and angry. A little before I had Cole, my sister started coming every weekend to help me with the boys on Sunday. Nic had been called into the bishopric which means that we don't see a lot of him, especially on Sunday. Wrangling two little ones while eight months pregnant was difficult. Then I talked my sister in continuing to come each weekend to help me because wrangling three little boys under three is difficult too. Now I know that other women have done it, are doing it, and will continue to do it on their own, but I have the resource of a loving and helpful sister, so why not take advantage of it. Sometimes I think that some of the older women in the ward think that Nanny stays with me all week and cares for the children while I eat bon-bons all day. So after, the defensiveness and anger subsided a little, then I moved on to feeling inadequate. Suddenly I started to feel like I am a bad mom, like I'm falling very short of the standard, that I'm sub-par.

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The above post was written early August. I had continued on with what I thought was a clever and witty response, complete with five steps to being an impure stay at home mom. But looking it over, and even as I wrote it, it was still coming out as very bitter and angry. The more I've thought about this, the more I've realized that I need to let go of worrying about what others think of me or my perceptions of what others think of me. This is easier said than done, but I'm going to try. I am going to just keep trying to be the best mother and person that I can be, continually improving upon the day before, and have faith and hope that it is enough. I'm also going to remember that when I fall short, I have a very loving Savior who paid the price for me and will always make up the difference. I just need to do my best and turn to Him in all things and that will be enough.

My Terrible Two Year Old Who Is Actually More Terrific Than Terrible

Happy Birthday, Marky-Parky!
Mark just celebrated his second birthday. The big TWO. Wow! It seems just like yesterday that we were here:

 And this is never far from my memory:

Now here we are:

 So, for Mark's 2nd birthday, here are a few things about my sweet boy.

Mark loves to be outside. That boy could stay outside from sun up to sun down if I let him. He loves dirt, trucks, cars, balls...he is all boy. He likes to just drive around in his toy car or the Lightning McQueen four wheeler. For his birthday, he got a new ride--a Harley! He likes to push things around, like his baby brother in a stroller.
 

I like to refer to Mark as my Mighty Mark. He likes to use muscle and might to work things out. We call him "Bonk" because he's usually inclined to hammering things and because he's so active that he's a bit accident prone. He was a little slower to start walking. In fact, he wouldn't even put his feet down to stand. Then one day he decided it was time, and he hit the ground running. He is always on the go. He likes to run, jump, play, dance...anything that keeps him moving. He loves all sports and is fairly athletic for his age. He actually has a really good arm and can throw with a lot of power and good aim. As I was recently hit by a projectile toy dump truck, I can attest to his throwing strength. =)


Mark can be a little hard-headed like his daddy (okay, like his mommy too). Like I said with the walking, he had to decide he wanted to do it. If he doesn't want to do something, he will dig in his heels and there's no changing his mind. I like to think that this just means he will always be a determined person in life.

One thing that his Grandma J said once that has kind of stuck was,"Mark is tough as nails--just don't hurt his feelings." That is one true statement. Mark is an adventurer. He has no fear. He will climb to the top of the highest slide at the playground and slide down without any help. He's not afraid to try new things or of getting hurt (much to my chagrin!), instead, he sees adventures in place of challenges. He is tough as nails. However, if I get mad at him about something or if someone says something that hurts his feelings, the waterworks start. And while he may have initially had some issues with his head when he was born, Mark was blessed with some outstanding lungs.

I think Mark will be a little more introverted like me. He likes to be around people, and he's really sweet and giving, but he needs a little time on his own to really function. I'm the same as far as needing a little alone time to re-energize. Mark loves to share and to give. He loves to give big Mark bear hugs. I think he will be a defender of the little guy in his life. Two funny stories about Mark:

One day we were out somewhere at a semi-crowded place and a kid, probably 9 or 10 years old, wasn't watching where he was going and bumped into me. Actually, he almost knocked me over and gave me a sore shoulder. He apologized and rushed on his way. Mark literally did an about face and with a determined, all-business face started going after this kid. I'm not sure what he was planning to do if he caught the kid, but it made my heart swell to see my little boy going to my rescue.

The other day we were getting some take-out dinner at a Chinese place. As we were waiting for our food, this huge Polynesian guy came in. He placed his order at the counter and then sat down at the table next to us. Now, mind you, this guy was HUGE. He had tattoos up and down his arms and legs and looked like a linebacker for some college team. Well, Mark decided he was going to make friends. He went to the guy's table, pulled himself up into the chair across from the guy, rested his chin on his arms, and proceeded to just stare at the guy. At first, the guy pretended to not notice him. But after a few minutes of intense staring, the guy finally made eye contact with Mark and said, "Hi, little guy." And then they were friends. As the guy left, he said good-bye to Mark, and then said to me, "You have a cute kid." Yes, I do.

Mark is a sweetheart and a character. He brings so much fun and adventure to our family. I am lucky and blessed to be able to call myself Mark's Mom.

 For Mark's birthday, I made him a 2 pancake for breakfast. And I made him a jeepin' cake because, of course, he loves going out in the Jeep. He's already laid claim to my Jeep. That's what I get for naming him after Uncle Mark and Uncle Clay. =)

My Merry Old Soul

Old King Cole was a Merry Old Soul and a Merry Old Soul was he.

The nursery rhyme fits my little Cole well. Cole is definitely a merry old soul. He loves to smile and laugh, and sometimes, he seems to hold the wisdom of a very old soul. And I think that he looks like a little old man. =) He is now almost ten months old. My baby is getting closer and closer to that one year mark and to becoming a toddler. I'm not sure I'm ready for all of that.

 With Sam, I had wanted to be that cool mom that posts each month about her child and posts a picture of the child holding a chalkboard with the age on it. Sam is two months old...he likes bottles and sleep...I tried. With Mark, I made a couple of attempts. With Cole, well, did I mention that I had another baby named Cole? Don't even ask me about their baby books.

But I'm going to take a minute and write a little about Cole. Let's pretend this is for his nine month mark and that I've been posting little tidbits and pictures all along.
 

Cole is my little runt. He's short and scrawny but not for a lack of eating. He's in the 7th and 10th percentile for height and weight. But he's healthy and growing, and as my pediatrician told me once, I'm not going to end up with any basketball players. Cole has been my little baldy. He actually has a lot of hair starting to come in, but it's really light and feathery and hard to see. He has a lot of fuzzy hair around his ears which only adds to his little old man look. Cole also has five teeth already. He started getting teeth when he was about three months old.

People always tend to comment about Cole the most on two things: one, his piercing blue eyes and two, his contagious smile. Cole has these electric blue eyes that seem to look right through you sometimes. He does a lot of communicating with his eyes. And he has this beautiful, goofy smile to go along with an easy going personality. Cole is generally a happy little guy. Sam and Mark love Cole so much...sometimes a little too much, and he ends up with a brother sitting on him because that's how brothers show love I guess. Cole loves his brothers too. He is always watching them, and I can tell that he's just so anxious to be running around and playing with them. I think Cole will be my youngest to start walking. He's already making little attempts. Both Sam and Mark weren't even interested until they were closer to two than one. Right now Cole does this Shamu/zombie/worm crawl that can get him from one side of the house to the other in no time flat.

Cole loves interacting with people. He loves faces. He loves making new friends with adults and kids. He's a chatterbox. I'm not sure he has an official first word yet, but I think he might be saying mama to me. I've told him that if he will make mama his first word then he'll be my favorite son (both Sam and Mark started out with dada). =)

Cole is such a little character. I often joke that someday I will get a call from the school, and the teacher will say that Sam keeps arguing with her. Then I will get a call, and the teacher will say that Mark popped someone in the nose. They deserved it, but he shouldn't have done it nonetheless. And then I'll get a call, and the teacher will tell me that Cole is being a class clown again and making the kids laugh in the middle of her lesson. He's already such a comedian and loves to distract people during Sunday School.

Despite being such a little guy, Cole is a BIG part of our family. I can't imagine our family without him. I don't know why I'm so blessed, but I'm going to just be thankful and enjoy it!

This is Cole and his little cousin, Erika. I have a feeling those two had a hay day up in heaven together hiding angels' halos and what not.


A proper greeting in baby is too nibble on each other's noses...

Being a mom is like being a lottery winner.

Being a mom is like being a chauffeur, a chef, a maid, a referee, a doctor, a therapist, a dietician, a musician, an actor, a teacher, search and rescue, a spy, and sometimes a prisoner of war...you name it, a mom does it. But most of all, being a mom is like being a lottery winner every day. Yes, there are bad days, but there are also good days, and I wouldn't trade this wonderful gift called motherhood for all the money in the world. I feel pretty darn lucky to have three handsome, smart, funny, kind, loving, often mischievous little boys to call my own. Every day, good or bad, there is a new adventure. Every day I get to see the world through new eyes. The world is scarier and prettier. There is laughter and tears; frustration and heartaches; and most of all, overwhelming joy. I love when my kiss is the only thing that can make an owie stop hurting. I love when I have little arms wrapped around my neck and when I get slobbery kisses. I love when my little boys run across the room with their arms outstretched so happy to see me. I love watching my baby sleep nestled in my arms. My heart almost breaks with overwhelming love when I hear a little voice say, "Mommy I love you soooooooo much." Being a mom is like taking all of the hard things and all of the good things in life and mushing and knotting it all together into a giant, tangled ball of gooey, sticky wonder and adventure. I truly am the luckiest girl in the world!

PITSD--a more serious post

Today I've decided to share some thoughts that I generally don't really even say out loud. Be aware that there's going to be a lot of soul pouring in the post and probably a lot of rambling! Here it goes: I have PITSD--Post Infertility Traumatic Stress Disorder. I've made up the name, but I know it has to be a real thing (btw, I'm not mocking or taking PTSD lightly).  I usually don't notice it too much, except at certain times, like Mother's Day. For a long time, Mother's Day was not a happy day for me. It was actually a very painful, heart breaking day for me. When dealing with infertility, Mother's Day is not a day to look forward to. I would try to focus on showing my love and appreciation for my amazing mother and mother-in-law and all of the other awesome women in my life, but it was still difficult. Listening to the children sing songs to their mothers at church would bring lots of sobbing and mascara smeared across my face. Some years I did better than others, but some years were very dark.

But now I have children. I am finally a mom. Still, I sometimes feel this hesitation to really enjoy Mother's Day, like, am I really allowed this wonderful thing? I am also very aware that there are so many women who are dealing with infertility, miscarriage, death of a child, death of their mother,  and so many other things that make this day so hard to face. I know some of that pain. I feel torn because I want to celebrate being a mother because I am so happy and blessed to be one. And yet, I want to do something to show these struggling women how much they are loved and that they are in my thoughts and prayers. I want to join the group of moms and cry and laugh about the struggles of every day motherhood, and I want to join the group of women struggling and crying. I want to hug each of them, and if I could I would show them my heart and say, "See I have those scars on my heart too, but I made it, and you will too. You can do this, and you are not alone."

When you have PITSD, it is difficult to not always be waiting for the rug to be pulled out from underneath you. When I found out that I was pregnant for the first time, I spent the first month or two really trying to convince myself that it was really a baby and not a tumor that my body had somehow misunderstood to be a baby. I worried and fretted the entire pregnancy that something was going to go wrong. I just couldn't believe that something that good was really happening for me. Once my husband was out later than I had anticipated, and I couldn't get a hold of him. I was so sure that he was dead because I was pregnant and so something bad had to happen. Well, thankfully, he was fine. The baby was fine. And now I have three handsome, wonderful little boys. I am so truly blessed in my life, but if I'm not careful, sometimes the anticipation of something bad happening will creep back in. But I have to just keep telling myself that there are plenty of bad things that can happen in life, but there are also many more good things that happen every day. And when the bad things happen, I will get through them with the Lord's help. For now, I'm just going to live and enjoy every minute of this wonderful life that is mine.

Another effect of PITSD is the overwhelming feeling that you must be a perfect parent. I sometimes put too much pressure on myself because I couldn't have children for five years. For five years, I obsessed over how much I wanted to be a mother. Sometimes I feel like I should be better because of those earlier struggles, like more is expected of me, because I wanted it so badly, as though it would be ungrateful to not do everything perfectly. I remember before I had children how much I hated when mothers would make flippant comments about wanting to get rid of their children. Occasionally, a mother would say something like, "You want kids? Here take little Timmy. He's driving me crazy." And I would get so mad because how dare this mother throw it in my face that she could have children and I couldn't. Now I understand a little better what that mother was going through. There have been a few times when I have threatened my children that I'm going to sell them to the zoo to live with the monkeys or to a traveling band of gypsies. And then I feel really guilty because how dare I think such things? I wanted children so badly for so long, I better love every minute of motherhood, right? I am slowly learning that infertility didn't up the requirements for me. All of us go through different struggles. If someone has cancer and beats it, do I expect them to now be a saint? No, of course not. We're all human, and I need to allow myself to be human too.

Anyway, I hope tomorrow that I can somehow help all the women around me know how amazing they are. As a mother, I am realizing more and more that it really does take a village to raise a child. My sons are so blessed to have wonderful grandmothers, aunts, cousins, an AWESOME nanny, amazing friends, and teachers helping them and caring for them. Women are like aspen trees. Aspen trees share a root system which gives them strength to endure the roughest of weather and gives them the nourishment they need to grow and strive in the hardest of conditions such as drought or long, cold winters. The largest root system is a cluster of Aspen trees in Utah that covers roughly 106 acres. As women, the more we reach out to one another, the more strength we have and the more good we can do as a collective power for good. The winds of adversity can't shake me or my little saplings because I have the strength of my sisters. I want to do more to contribute to that sisterhood and strengthen and encourage the women around me. So, sister reading this, know that no matter where you are in life or what you're going through, you are AMAZING and TREMENDOUS and 100% AWESOME! Thank you for all that you do. And I hope you have a wonderful day tomorrow--you deserve it!

Some random thoughts on motherhood

Being a mom is like being a supermodel.

Being a mom is like being a supermodel...ha ha, just kidding. Actually it's the exact opposite. I just couldn't think of what the opposite of a supermodel is. I remember taking my baby in for his three month check up and asking the doctor about this little rash he had. The doctor asked me if I was using a different soap or lotion on him. Nope. Was I using a different laundry detergent? Nope. Was I using a new soap, lotion, or perfume? That's when I realized what I was doing differently--I was finally able to take regular showers again!

The other day as I excitedly opened my brand new $4 mascara, I wondered to myself what those supermodel women think when they see women like me. I wonder if they think that I don't care or that I don't try. But I do try, I really do, but it is inevitable that I'm going to have spit up stains on my shoulders and crumbs stuck to my pants. On Sundays when I put the most effort toward my appearance, it lasts maybe five minutes. By the time we get to church, my hair is flying in different directions, my make-up has been perspired off, and my clothes are disheveled. It is the price I pay for wrestling three little alligators into dress clothes, getting them strapped into a van, and then getting them into the church on time (or as close to on time as we can get).

And I do try to exercise and take care of myself. But I still don't understand why all the scrubbing and vacuuming, kid lifting and kid hauling, kid chasing and silly dancing don't counterbalance the chocolate I eat through out the day to get me through the day. You just can't achieve the level of mothering that I do on celery alone, believe you me.

However, I am grateful that my boys don't care what I look like. Someday they will, and I can use that to my advantage. Yes, I will be the mother that will sit in the back of my son's classroom with my hair in curlers and wearing my best sweat suit if I catch wind of any of my boys misbehaving in class. I'm also very grateful that my husband still finds me attractive. I think he's crazy or maybe losing his sight, but I appreciate it nonetheless. He's a good man, and he has the ability to help me feel beautiful even after a long night with a teething baby. Love him so much!

Motherhood: I make this look HOT! =)