Barren Awareness Day

Have you ever been single on Valentine's Day?

Think hard. Back to the days before you met your spouse, or significant other. (Some of you may be very lucky, and the only time you didn't have a Valentine was in Junior High, but the rest of us . . . well . . . I'm sure there were a few years without a Valentine . . . )

Do you remember how you felt? Seeing your friends blissfully in love, opening thoughtful gifts, reading gushy love letters and eating chocolate?

Valentine's day to the unattached person is known as "Single Awareness Day."

This Sunday is Mother's Day. For years, (and I mean years) I met this day with sadness and anger. For many, Mother's Day is a day you recognize your mother, or you are recognized as a mother. As a mother, you find joy in your children, and realize the only reason you have children is because you are a mother.

See, everything goes hand in hand.

For many women, this Sunday, Mother's Day, is a reminder that their oven is empty. To the childless woman, Mother's Day is known as "Barren Awareness Day."

I always dreaded going to church on Mother's Day. 364 days a year, no one notices that you come to church without children. On Mother's Day, it's like you arrive with a blinking neon sign that says "I'm not really a mother. But recognize me because I'm married."

Awkward.

Actually, what I really wanted my invisible neon sign to say is, "Please don't recognize me. It's GLARINGLY obvious I don't fit in. Thanks."

So year, after year, after year, after year, after year, after year, after year, after year, (yes, there were eight years of this awkwardness) I would arrive to church with a smile on my face, hiding the pain that cut so deeply.

I wanted to be a mother.

Did the Lord think I was unfit?

Why, then, was I not blessed with children?

I will never know the answers to these questions.

But, I do know this Sunday will mark the third anniversary of my mommyhood and absence of that obnoxious blinking neon sign.

Thank goodness for that.

Where am I going with this?

I'm not really sure.

If you're a mother, cherish your children and be grateful you have them.

If you're not a mother (yet) and you long to be one, channel your energy into loving your own mom. Your time will come. It may not be in this lifetime, but it will come.

If you know someone who is struggling to have children, be extra sensitive to them. Especially on Mother's Day.

Happy Mother's Day everyone!

I Get It

Warning: This is not an announcement, because there is nothing to announce. I am only noting an observation.

Phew! Now we have the disclaimer out of the way clearing up a topic I haven't even mentioned yet . . .

I know why people do it. You know, get pregnant while their baby is still,-- well, a baby.

Don't judge (never mind that what I'm about to explain is me judging others . . .), but I used to be pretty opinionated about motherhood, and when to have children, how many you should have and how far apart they should be spaced.

I'm not going to mince words here, I used to think that mothers who had children 18 months in age or closer were whacked out of their minds. Whether those childbirths were accidental or intentional, no one, and I mean no one, in their right mind would want children so close in age. I don't care how sleep deprived you are, logical people just don't think like that.

Then, I became a mother.

After several blissful months of caring for and loving the most easy-going baby sent to earth, I was hooked. I need another one. Right. A. Way.

I was addicted to my baby.

I needed another fix.

It was bitter sweet to see her grow and develop so quickly.

Why can't they be frozen in their cute little bodies?

Worried that the second time around getting pregnant would take another nine years (yes, it took almost nine years for us to get our first), we decided on baby number two much sooner than we would have had we known my body would get pregnant easily.

Both shocked and excited with pregnancy number two, we were well on our way to becoming the ideal American family of four.

Four is good. It's an even number. All basic dinner tables have seating for four. The average American home has three bedrooms, (ideal for a couple and two children). If you ever win a trip somewhere, almost always, the prize is for a family of four.

So why would I consider making our family an odd number?

Maybe it's because my eight month old baby always smells like bubble gum. Maybe it's because his cheeks are so soft and kissable. It could be because he just sprouted his first tooth after waking up so happy with adorable bed head.

I'm not sure, but something is pulling at me saying, "You need another one. He is developing so fast (my son is only eight months old . . .), YOU NEED ANOTHER FIX."

So I get it now. It's like you don't have a choice. You just start listening to the voices in your heart and go for it.

Like I said before, this is not an announcement in any way, shape, or form (don't even read through the lines). All I'm saying, is that my new-open-minded-non-judgmental-self GETS IT.

You want to have seven children all spaced 11 months apart?

I won't judge.

Wiping Snotty Noses Really Does Matter

I've been having one of those days. You know the kind. The days when you do a lot of stuff (or so it seems) but you have nothing to show for all your hard work when the day is over?

My kids are great sleepers. This I can't complain about. I know many women would LOVE to have their kids take scheduled naps. Or heck, any nap, for any length of time. I only feel a tiny bit guilty requesting one thing of my little Dallin and Hannah . . .

Would it be possible to take your naps at the same time?

Honestly.

I spend all day like this: (after every second item you can insert, wipe snotty noses and change poopie diapers)

Get up.

Dallin is awake.

But only for one hour.

Feed him.

Put him back to bed for an hour.

Then Hannah wakes up.

She starts talking the second her eyes open.

Get her dressed.

Feed her.

Take Paris out.

Feed her too.

Check email.

Dallin is now awake from his first morning nap.

Hannah and Dallin play while I start laundry.

Dallin is tired again.

Listening to Hannah talk all morning is tiring.

He goes down for a second morning nap.

Hannah is still talking.

And playing.

And rearranging the chairs in the kitchen.

Making a fort.

Dallin wakes up again.

They both eat lunch.

Hannah goes down for a long nap.

Dallin is up for the long haul.

He is busy.

VERY BUSY.

Always finding something to get into.

He get's stuck standing in precarious spots.

I am tired.

Maybe I should get ready for the day.

Or at least brush my teeth.

Maybe I should wash my face too.

Hannah wakes up.

Dallin is ready for nap number three.

Hannah makes more forts.

She plays with all my kitchen utensils.

Dallin wakes up again.

Just in time for dinner.

Dave may or may not be home. (He works a light 70 hours a week at the hospital.)

The kids have one hour together before they both go to bed for the night.

And then the house is silent and I kind of want go into their rooms and kiss them.

Because I miss them.

I'm not making any sense.

But this did make sense when I explained it to my sister. You see, when I have a problem, complaint, exciting news, or nothing to talk about at all, I call my sister Jenn. We actually chat on the phone old school style. (Rarely do we email each other even though email is the preferred way I chat with others.)

We can chat for hours.

David, Hannah, and my mother-in-law can attest to this.

Where was I? Where am I going with this?

Oh yeah, I was, in essence, complaining about not having any personal time. No "Emily time." No time to think to myself, do something for myself, or heck, enjoy an afternoon nap with the kids. (See, wouldn't that be nice? All three of us sleeping at once?)

So, as I was describing my daily routine to Jenn, she told me a about a quote she has on her fridge by General Authority N. Eldon Tanner. ( He was from before my time.) She looks at it every day.

A mother has far greater influence on her children than anyone else, and she must realize that every word she speaks, every act, every response, her attitude, even her appearance and manner of dress affect the lives of her children and the whole family. It is while the child is in the home that he gains from his mother the contribution he will make to society."

The phrases "every response" and "her attitude" have stood out to me loud and clear the last few days. This quote has made me think about my response to my kitchen being a big fort all day, and being happy about it.