Sing it, Perry

"Magic Moments" as sung by Perry Como is one of my favorite happy songs. As inspired by this post, I wrote my own set of lyrics to the classic tune. Check them out at the end of the post.

Motherhood to me is found and defined in the moments.

The moments that keep me going, the moments that make me feel like a mole facing a hammer in that classic arcade game, the moments that give me glimpses of the future, the moments that catapult me into the depths of fear of endless failure, the moments that feel like part of heaven.

Motherhood is moments.

A little hand slipping into mine while we walk from the bedroom to the kitchen, just because he wants to be close to me.

The dinner reaction. From, "Yuck! I hate that, Mom!" to "We're having THAT for dinner?! I LOVE you, Mom!"

Realizing that my but-he's-only-six! year old is already wanting to not be around me and that moment of euphoria when I realize all is not lost and I still have some time as he's skipping next to me because we're off to do something, just the two of us, and he's so happy about it.

Moments between a whiny "whyyyyyyyyyy?" and my response.

Big smiles and bright eyes.

Painful kisses. Who knew a three year old roughly grabbing my head and turning it to an uncomfortable angle so he could plant a soft one on my cheek could be so awesome?

"I luhz oo, Mom"s.

Smells. The you-need-a-bath! smells, the I-don't-even-want-to-know-what's-causing-that-smell-but-have-to-hunt-it-down-to-stop-it-in-case-it's-an-environmental-hazard smells, the hugging-a-clean-boy-in-freshly-laundered-clothes smells, the you-just-brought-me-a-dandelion-and-a-huuuuge-smile smells, etc. etc.

Embarrassing, "yes...that's my child" moments and proud "That's my boy!" moments.

Oodles and buckets and floods of witnessing firsts.

Motherhood moments keep me on my toes and I love them. All of them. They're getting me closer to the end goal of eternal life. Even the moment when Al comes down the stairs to me instead of the ten steps from his room to the bathroom resulting in him throwing up on the stairs. Cleaning up more vomit must surely increase my endure to the end levels and getting me that much closer to the pearly gates;) And the kicker in that moment: though we're constantly coaching the kids to run to the bathroom if they feel they're going to lose it, his innate reaction to seek out Mom for comfort and help when something goes awry superseded all else. That's love:)

That's motherhood. And I love it!

This post is part of MamaBlogga's October Group Writing Project, Motherhood to me...Join us!

P.S. Have you had any moments you'd like to share?

Mommy Moments

Mommy moments, when two boys are sharin'
Mommy moments, mem'ries of tempers flaring.

I'll never forget the moment he shoved that girl on
the hay ride
The way that her mom muttered an’ glared while I tried to
hide my pride

CHORUS

Mommy moments, mem'ries we’ve been sharin’
Mommy moments, when brothers are caring
I can't erase the sharpie marks
These mommy moments are filled with love

The sleep that I’ve lost with you throwing up for hours
and hours
The smile on your sweet little face when you
pick me flowers

CHORUS

(The way that we cheered whenever you made it
on time to the bathroom)
The time that you plugged the sink and it rained
all over the family room.
(The endless band-aids, the games that we played, the fun
and surprises)
A life that is full of trying to cope with whatever
arises

Mommy moments filled with love

[Clarification: the little girl initiated the shoving and Jonzy wasn't going to put up with it. And yes, it really did rain in our family room.]

Five. Years.

In the grand scheme of things, five years is not that many.

Hardly a blip on the radar.

Even on a smaller scale, five years just isn't that long.

But my, how things can change in just five years.

In five years of my life I married, had a baby, graduated from college, bought a house, and had twins.

What a difference five years makes!

If one had taken a snapshot of my freshman year, then skipped ahead to take another snapshot five years later-

Shoot, even I would wonder if that was really the same person.

I'd like to say that five years from now the changes will be just as dramatic:

My children will be 11 (!!!), 8, and 8. Maybe there will be more.

All of them could be in school. Or maybe we'll be veteran homeschoolers.

I'll have finally figured out a system that will keep the house consistently clean and organized.

There will be an exercise routine I have successfully made habit.

I'll have an hour every day that I can spend in the scriptures.

There will be more than enough hours every day to accomplish what I need to and even what I want to.

No matter what I eat, my thighs will not get bigger.

Yeah...maybe my imagination is running a bit wild...

I don't know what life will be like in five years. I have desires for how it will be. I have directions to go and paths to follow that will take me to wonderful places with my family and personal growth.

But really, looking back on how quickly my life can change in five years I really can't pretend to even have a grasp of what life will be like for Lindsey five years from now.

Whatever it is- It's going to be AWESOME!

This post is part of MamaBlogga's July Group Writing Project.

Before I was a mom...

Before I was a mom, I knew what to expect.

Before I was a mom, I knew I'd be so great as a mother.

Before I was a mom, I'd get all warm and fuzzy at the sight of a baby sock. Seriously.

Before I was a mom, I knew what it meant to be tired.

Before I was a mom, I remembered everything; names, dates, facts, appointments-everything.

Before I was a mom, I was sooo patient.

Before I was a mom, I had conversations in my head with people whose children were screaming in public about how to properly handle the situation and raise their children right because they were obviously messing up big time.

Before I was a mom, I was so busy. School, church, apartment, work, social interaction. Whew! The to-do list was so long!

.....................................

Now I am a mom and I know that I the only thing I can expect is the unexpected.

Now I am a mom and I pray daily that my kids turn out well in spite of me.

Now I am a mom and I fight the urge to scream when an odd number of socks come out of the dryer...And I do a happy dance when I find a missing sock hidden in a folded sheet.

Now I am a mom and I KNOW what it means to be tired. People ask me how I am and I no longer reply fine. My standard reply is, "tired."

Now I am a mom and the only way I'm going to remember something is if I have two solid minutes of absolute quiet so I can search my brain for it (and even that's not a guarantee). You can guess how often that happens.

Now I am a mom and I struggle moment by moment for the necessary patience. I was no where near patient in my pre-mom days.

Now I am a mom and the conversations are still there. Except they only last a few sentences before I realize what I'm doing, shake my head at my stupidity, cast a commiserating smile at the poor embarrassed parents of a public screamer and get my focus back on my own screamers and embarrassment.

Now I am a mom and I realize that I did not know the meaning of busy. There's normal person busy and then there is mom-busy. The to-do list is infinitely long and I am trying to come to terms with the fact that I will never be able to cross everything off.

I have only been a mom for four years. Four short years. Not even a fifth of my life. And yet those four years have brought me more and taught me more than the previous years combined. It's absolutely incredible how much I've learned in four years. It's even more amazing how much joy I've experienced in four years. Though there are things I miss about the years before I was a mom, I don't ever want to go back to them again. These years as a mom are immeasurably better!

This post was written as part of MamaBlogga's August Group Writing Project. Come join in the fun!

Cold Turkey for a Week

Welcome to this week’s meeting of Readers Anonymous.

Hi. My name is Lindsey. And I’m addicted to reading.

“Hi Lindsey.”

I love to read. Books, the newspaper, the vast expanse of words available through the Internet, etc. I guess you could say I’m an Internet-aholic, too. There are emails to read and write, blogs to visit, articles to read, new things to learn. Oh, the Internet is a beautiful place! And when there’s no computer, there’s always a good book.

For a couple weeks now, I’ve been praying daily that God would help me figure out how to better organize myself so I can better organize my family and our home. On the days I tried harder to meet all the needs of my three boys, the state of the house plummeted. On the days when I tried harder to keep the house in a presentable and organized condition, I would get aggravated that the boys were always needing something and interrupting me. On those days the house ended up a mess AND the kids were unhappy. I couldn’t figure out how to jive both boys and house. And so I prayed over and over and over again. There must be a way to create the best in both worlds.

Last night- prayers were answered. And as is usually the case, I wasn’t initially keen on what needs to be done. What does my Heavenly Father say will put me in the right direction?

“Give up the Internet for one week.”

Automatically, I started coming up with excuses. But then I paused. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea. Maybe I should take it a step further- no reading whatsoever (except of course, scripture study. Taking that out would have the opposite effect of the one I am seeking.). No Internet, no newspaper, no books.

Am I going to miss relaxing with some reading? Most definitely. But, for me, this is a matter of instant gratification versus more lasting happiness. The funny thing about happiness is that it often follows sacrificing a good thing for a better thing. Opportunity cost, if you will. If I stop all this reading for a week and see what I can accomplish and set up for the long-term, I believe I’ll be happier. Granted, I’m not positive of what the future week holds. Perhaps this will all backfire in my face. But I think it’s a good step to be taking.

And so, I choose happiness. Good-bye Internet. Good-bye books. Good-bye newspapers. I’ll see you all next Friday and much less often from then on.

The content of this post originated from divine inspiration:) The post itself was inspired by MamaBlogga’s January Group Writing Project. Come join in the fun.

You learn something new everyday

I have three children. Count ‘em: one, two, three. All boys. That should make me some kind of motherhood pro, right? Or maybe a mothering boys pro since I don’t know what it’s like to have a daughter. My oldest is only three so I don’t have too much experience under my belt. But still, it seems that having three young children would make me the kind of mom who spews fantastic pieces of wisdom to any other mothers with little ones who have questions. I should be a pro, but I’m not. In my defense, the last two boys did come at the same time. So instead of going through the stages three separate times, garnishing all sorts of ideas from successes and failures we had, I’m doing two at a time and often forgetting what works for which boy. That said, I am not a pro and am finding that I’ve got a long way to go.

Both of the times we welcomed babies into our family, I was thrown for a loop. Twins really smacked me in the face. I blame the majority of how hard the smack was on hormones, but the rest is credited to the fact that new babies are just plain hard to care for.

Before J was born, I had it all planned out. I was going to fit a baby into my life and go on with business as usual except I would have a cute and constant companion. J humbled me to the dust. I started to feel like I had a handle on life again and I went back to school. Again, I had it all planned out. And once again: humbled to the dust. After a many months together, life with a child became normal to me as I stopped recalling what days were like pre-J. We were jivin’ well together:).

When A and W came- crash! bang! kapowee! I try not to remember why exactly those days were so hard. When I start to think about the first weeks and months it’s a blur of tears and “I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.” Then I stop thinking about that and try to remember the fun times instead. We started to settle into a feeling of normal around the time A and W were three months old. But a small part of me was still trying to grasp for some sense of normal; I couldn't seem to make that last step out of survival mode.

Thankfully for me, there are other moms out there who seem like they have the pro thing down. Two years ago I was blessed to have a friend put in my life that has shared her wisdom with me and really helped me correct my perspective on a number of occasions. She had her fourth baby about four or five months after my boys were born. When I first visited her family about a week after the birth, I was surprised at how mellow she seemed. Everything was running so smoothly in their home. She only looked slightly tired. So I asked, “Wow, have you gotten back to normal?” She replied, “We’re still trying to find our new normal.”

It was as if all the lights went on in my head and heavenly choirs sang “Hallelujah!” NEW normal! This was what I needed. It’s amazing what this little phrase did to help me accept how life was going to be. Of course I couldn't get back to “normal;” I had two new people in my life that necessitated a new way of going about business. It still took a few more months to feel like we had achieved our new normal, but the process of getting there was much less frustrating. And I think it came a lot faster than it would have without the realization that we needed to find a new normal way of life. Understanding has a knack for driving out frustration and hastening the arrival of peace.

This post was inspired by MamaBlogga's August Group Writing Project.
To learn more and participate yourself, go here.

Originally written: August 19, 2008