Mother's Day 2012

Seeing as how my full-time job, I mean calling, is that of being a mother, I have been trying to get myself psyched up to talk about how my Mother's Day went. I have been mulling it over and over and over in my mind for a few weeks now, but I think I will just go ahead and tackle it.

   Saturday night before Mother's Day, I somehow was feeling a little bit of internal peer pressure to have to be looking my best the next day at church. And by "my best" I mean, to maybe actually blow dry my hair and have some nail polish on my fingers. Seriously, it is pretty much a well known fact that I am the exact opposite of the definition of "high maintenance".
   
       Well, at midnight, when the house was finally quieted down from a roaring cacophony to a low-pitched hum of my own breathing and the rumbling background sound of the washing machine, I was getting ready for bed, brushing my teeth, when I noticed my nails. Yup, they were still sans polish. "oh well" I quickly thought, "Nobody will even notice anyhow".  I said my prayers, and hit the pillow with that familiar friend of mine, exhaustion. As I laid there in the darkness, I was thinking of how earlier in the day, Greg and the kids were quizzing me on what I really enjoy eating for breakfast these days. I knew that they would be serving me my favorite breakfast in bed, a bowl of Greek yogurt with some granola in it. I smiled myself to sleep thinking of picturing their sweet faces bringing it in to me in the morning.

    CRASH...SHATTER!!!  I was startled awake by a very loud smashing sound of glass breaking, followed immediately by loud crying, and someone yelling at someone. I hurriedly tried to throw a robe on and ran out to the kitchen to behold the scene. My heart immediately dropped a few notches lower in my chest as my eyes swept the floor and saw the extent of the shattering of the shards of glass. But I was even more saddened as I saw that my sweet little girl had climbed upon a chair to get my best glass serving plate down and had obviously dropped it in her attempt. The worst part of this picture was the fact that her older sister had yelled at her about it and she was in deep sobbing tears over the incident.

      I quickly reassured them that I just wanted for everyone to be safe and to get the barefooted children out of the room so we could clean up the glass. And please, for the love, could you please not yell at your sister about what was a simple accident. And that I truly appreciated their efforts on my behalf, and was not mad about the glass serving platter. And please, could you all go and get ready for church, since nobody had awoken me on time and we were going to be late.   The next half an hour I spent trying to hold my robe around myself while simultaneously sweeping up the mess of broken glass that had entirely covered every inch of the kitchen and while battling thoughts of irritation at the fact that Greg was gone to Bishopric meeting all morning, and wasn't here to have helped avert this disaster or even to help me to get the kids ready for Church on time. So, in a rush and haste that unfortunately has become all too familiar around our home on Sunday mornings, we all scurried about trying to get dressed and feed babies and find the infamous disappearing sunday shoes, etc. etc.

     Greg finally got home and I was just glad to have some reinforcements, if only for a few minutes. I threw myself in the shower and threw some clothes on. I grabbed my primary stuff (I was in charge of Sharing Time this day and the fun little craft we were going to have all of the children make for their mothers). Sacrament meeting was like any other week, a struggle. I say this in all honesty, because with the two babies and the other children who somehow have been to the same meeting every single week their whole lives but have not yet learned to sit still for 70 minutes, it is a struggle.  A beautiful struggle, wherein we are blessed to take the sacred sacrament and renew our covenants with God, and renew our commitments to Him for the week, and receive renewed peace and strength to get through the next week.

    Half way through sacrament meeting, when Emerson's ability to sit still had completely hit rock bottom and his decibel level had reached the point of annoying more than just our row, I took him out into the foyer.  I stayed with him for the rest of the next speaker. Then when the 'half-time show' "rest hymn" was about to begin, I tried to stand strategically by the door to look in at our kids as they were going up to sing the Mother's Day song they had learned in Primary.  I didn't want to miss it, not just because some of my own kids were up there, but because these are MY primary children, whom I have grown to know and to love over the last 18 months as I have been privileged to serve with them.  So, I am standing there and all of a sudden, Greg gets up and comes walking out to me. "Here", he says, "I'll take him. You go in and watch the kids sing". Well, at this point I should have been like, "Oh, you are so sweet, Thanks." But, I  have not reached that level of maturity yet. I am more of a 'need-to-prove-people's-real-motives' type. So, I said, "Why did you get up and come out here? We are fine, and I can see the kids from here, and Emerson is fine with me".  He's like, "I just wanted to come and help you". I am like, "Seriously. Why?" Then it finally breaks through on his lips, "OK, I was starting to fall asleep in there".

   Ah, there it is. "Fine", I think.... Here you go. Here is Emerson. I will go and sit down with the kids so you can walk around and roam the halls and stay awake.  So I return to the pew and sit on the edge of the row and look up at the sweet children singing (ok, some were just standing there, but still sweet nonetheless). I quickly scan them to find my own three Primarygoers. Here is my thought process as I am scanning the large group of kids up on the stand.......

     There is Seth. Seth is impossible to miss as he is one of the tallest kids in the Primary this year. Sadie is standing near her friends and I can almost spot her freckles that I love as she stands there singing her heart out. Where is Lane? Oh, there he is. What the heck? Who did didn't do his hair? I am sitting like 17 rows back and I can see how skeewampus his hair is, sticking up all over the place. Wow! I can't believe how this morning is going. Oh crap, I totally forgot to blow-dry MY hair. Oh well, too late now.


     The kids returned to our row and I told them how great they sounded (meh), and they shuffled back over us and into their spots. The last speaker was great (what part of it I heard with Miles on my lap constantly talking to me and wanting to play with anything and everything). Then the closing song started, and Miles wanted me to help him follow along the music. It is something that I have just always done with my little ones. They sit on my lap, we hold the Hymnal open to the page, and I take their little hand in mine with their pointer finger out and I help them to follow along the words as we sing them. I look down at my hand as I am doing this, and it hits me, "No nail polish. Why couldn't I even get that simple 5 minute task done?"

      We do the 'cattledrive shuffle' out of the sacrament room and into the hall to head to Primary. Greg had taken Emerson home as he usually does, and the rest of the children found their way to their classes and taken Miles to Nursery.  Primary went well. I was able to bear my testimony about repentance to the children and they enjoyed the super-simple flower craft we brought for them to make for their mothers. I actually felt so grateful to be able to speak about the gift of repentance to them on Mother's Day, because I feel like this is something that I am constantly using as a mother. Honestly.

     Church is letting out and I am beginning to be bombarded with all of the little letters and notes that the kids had made for me. Sadie handed me her note. I read it and wanted to laugh. Here it is unedited and in it's entirety:

   "Happy Mother's Day. Roses are Red violets are blue, your the best Mom with a Car so big big big! but not as big as the Smiths Smiths Smiths. Oh yeah!"

      Great! Even my daughter is comparing me to my nearly-perfect neighbor who I already admire like crazy, on Mother's Day! ;)

    Well, I think you get the picture here. When we got home, things continued at about that same pace all day. I spent a few hours and then had to go in to work at the hospital. On my way there, I realized that I had neglected to get a gift for my own sweet mother this day. I had honestly thought about it all week, but couldn't come up with anything worthy of her status as an amazing mother. So I just called her, and I told her that I didn't have any physical gift to give to her, but that for Mother's Day I wanted to share with her my testimony. I then shared with her my testimony of the gospel and my deep gratitude and appreciation for her raising me in the faith and giving me wings to fly and to come to my own knowledge of the truthfulness of the gospel. I actually got emotionally choked up about it.

     I started thinking of all the years of her telling us in response to the question, "What do you want for Mother's Day/Birthday/Christmas, etc.?"
"I just want you guys to get along." Or...
 "I just want you guys to do your chores happily." Or...
" I just want you guys to love each other and be obedient, etc."

I used to roll my eyes at those ultra-cheesy answers, but here I am having those same exact desires. All I truly want from my own children is to see them "walk in truth and righteousness".  I could care less about a physical gift from them. But the greatest gift to me would be to see them gain a true testimony of the gospel for themselves and to see them strive to LIVE it each day. It was a life-changing change-of-perspective for me.

      But let me tell you about how my thoughts were further changed. I truly had a change of attitude about how my day had been going. Call it a case of "PolyAnna-itis" if you will, but I was able to pull back away from my selfish-self wallowing in self-pity about my 'less-than-ideal' Mother's Day and to truly view my blessings. MY personal blessings that MY Heavenly Father had blessed me with as a mother.

    At work, I was able to be with brand new mothers on Mother's Day and see the joy in their faces as they tenderly held their newborns.

I reflected on my day from start to finish......

I recalled waking up to the loud crash. I was grateful. Purely grateful.

 For the hours of rest my body had just received.

For the ears that work so well that I was able to hear that crash.

 For the children, who although they were yelling/crying, were there in that situation because they were trying to do something extra-special for me.

 For the relative prosperity that we are enjoying as I could easily replace that lost piece of serving-ware if I really wanted to.

For the children that could care less about how their hair looked in front of their ward family but were just excited to be up and singing a song to me.

For the chubby and tender little dirty fingernails I was able to hold in my plain un-painted fingers as we 'followed along' in the Hymn book.

For the seriously smart brain that was inside that head of whacked out hair on Lane's shoulders.

For the large car that we have that holds our large family (though not as large as the Smith's!!).

For the sense of humor that my daughter has about it.

For my eldest daughter, who although she can be bossy at times is becoming so mature and helpful and independent and beautiful.

 For my dear husband who gave me not only a gorgeous necklace for Mother's Day that adorns my neck, but who also wraps his strong arms around that same neck and envelopes me with his love and confidence and trust and encouragement on my darkest and emptiest days as a mother.

For the perfect sweet baby Levi that is waiting for me in Heaven whom I will one day get to hold again in my arms.

   Yes, it was a GREAT Mother's Day indeed.
I am blessed far more than I deserve, and I know it.