Sunday

 

The boys got new church clothes.  It only happens once a year, and that happens to conveniently fall during the after Easter clearance.  Josh had to work today, so we snapped a few pictures of these handsome boys.  Isaac chose something that did NOT have a tie.  He says it chokes him, and Will wanted to look more like his daddy, so we went with a white shirt instead of a colored one, even though, I’m going to hate keeping this one white. 

I think this picture is too cute.  Genuine smiles are hard to come by, but I managed to get all three doing it at once…if only they were looking at the camera

Doesn’t she seem so grown up?  She acts it too.  In just the last week she has gone from a pretty agreeable kid (for me at least) to more of a “my way or the highway” mentality.  Ugly.

 

Just incase I ever actually get my act together and have the blog printed in a book, I feel like every once in a while I should do a better job at giving a snapshot of parts of our lives.  Not like air our dirty laundry, but share the things that are valuable to remember and not too much information for our poor unsuspecting friends and family.  Sundays felt like a good place to insert an entry like this.

Sundays.  Whew!  That is how I feel after getting into the driver seat of the car with my three wild kids in the back, poking at each other and telling me in their loudest voices (our at least it seems that way) what they learned about in primary, only their version always includes some form of potty talk, and the baby is screaming because she needed a nap two hours ago, but still hasn’t had one, and I just close my eyes and say to myself, “We made it through another one.”  I don’t even bother asking them to be quiet or knock it off on the short drive back to our house.  There are times as a mom where we recognize that we aren’t at our best to deal with certain situations, so I’ve found it better to just not, until I have myself together.  We roar into the garage, where I immediately close the garage door after pulling in, just to prevent a stray child from hopping on his bike and riding through the endless supply of puddles we have had this Spring, since it seems like we don’t go even one day without rain, and getting those nasty mud/grease stains all over their church clothes.  Then mommy-robot kicks in where I manage to tune out all of the crazy that surrounds me in the forms of noise, clutter, and fighting, and I go into hyper-drive as I

1st:  put that overly tired baby to bed.

2nd:  Start at the top of the house and work my way down making beds and picking up random items and clothing that have been thrown about during the weekly Sunday tornado that visits as we race out of the house.

3rd:  make the rowdy boys stop with the noise by getting them to put some food in their mouths

4th:  realize after they have already started eating and spilled some on their shirts that they are still, in fact, in their church clothes

5th:  get out the shout and treat the weekly Sunday stains

6th:  begin making dinner for me and Josh, all the while wondering when he is actually going to show up

7th:  sit down.  breathe.  feel tired, and think I’ll catch a quick nap, and then…Jo is awake!

Sundays are wild.  I feel bad every week for whatever family ends up sitting near us in Sacrament meeting.  I’ve managed to control the noise (or at least I thought I had until Josie discovered her shriek this week) but I cannot seem to get a handle on the constant movement.  All four of us are literally all in constant motion for the full hour, and every once in awhile I’ll glance up longingly at Josh, sitting peacefully, and listening to the meeting, only to be startled back to reality as gold fish crackers fly all over, and Josie rips a page in a Hymn book.

All of that being said, I’m thankful that I get to do it.  It is never easy, but it always feels good to know that I am where I need to be and am supposed to be, and that my kids have good people there that love them and teach them.  I have learned to enjoy whatever stage I’m at in parenting, because just when I start to think I’ve got it under control, somehow, I’m shown that I absolutely don’t.  I’ll appreciate these “calm” Sundays for a few more weeks, because I’m sure come summer time when baby comes they will have seemed like a walk in the park.

Lucky Me

 

Will and Isaac with the flowers they picked for me for Mother’s Day.

As the day went on they just kept adding to the cup.  They chose a plastic cup from Valentine’s Day with hearts on it, because hearts mean love and wrote on it with a Sharpie, “Happy Mother’s Day”.  It doesn’t get much better. 

Perhaps some women feel that Mother’s Day is definitely in order, but the longer I’m a mom and the more kids I have the less I feel that way.  Don’t get me wrong, I think it is great that we set aside time to tell our mom’s how special they are to us, but as a mom, I want my family to be sure, every day, that what I do for them is a blessing to me.  I taught a lesson this week for the Relief Society and Young Women on being a daughter of God, and there couldn’t have been a better preparation for me for Mother’s Day.  The Hymn “As Sisters in Zion” has a verse that says

The errand of Angels is given to women and this is our gift that as sisters we claim:  to do whatsoever is gentle and and human, to cheer and to bless in humanity’s name.

It’s a gift.  It is because I am a daughter of God and because I have infinite value, that Heavenly Father has given me the gift of motherhood and the necessary divine attributes to accomplish it.  So, with this in mind, you can imagine the surprise for my little family when after church I sat them down for a “talk” and told them how thankful I was to be their mom and gave them all gifts to say thank you.  It is way more fun to give your kids and husband gifts than it is to receive them.  Pretty good day for every one.