A Year of Habits, no. 18



Happy Mothers Day to all.  I hope your day has been one that reminded you why you’re doing what you’re doing, that it matters, and that while none of us will ever be a perfect woman you can simply do your best.  It seems to me that’s the real purpose of Mother’s Day.    The rest of it is either fluff or guilt-inducing.

I’m not sure what to write about my week.  The general substance of life in the past 7 days has been covered here and here .   I harvested what I sowed:  not much.

Yesterday I drove six children to Logan Utah to visit my adorable sister and her husband.  He was graduating from Utah State University and it was fun to celebrate with them for a few hours.

In spite of my instructions to my husband that Mother’s Day was canceled this year, he’s worked hard and made it a nice day.  He cooked me a nice breakfast and took care of dinner.  I really didn’t feel like there was anything to celebrate today; my list of things I’ve messed up is significantly longer than the list of things I’m doing right.    As we tried to leave for Church this morning my three year old daughter got on the rocking chair to sing this song:  “I hate Mommy.  I hate Mommy.”  It’s really just a day.  The baby still cries, the boys still poke each other, the house still gets messed up.  It is nice, however, to receive a sincere note from your daughter and to hear your 13 year old son act like he might actually like you someday.

So here we are, ready to start what will likely turn out to be the busiest, most stressful week of the year.  I am confident none of us will get the stomach flu; we covered that last week.  I’m not so confident about most other things.

For the record:

Housekeeping
:  still behind, but trying to gain ground.  Spent some time trying to organize the basement storage room, selecting things to get rid of as well.

Planning:

working on a system that will work for me on a weekly and daily basis.  I hope to master this soon.

Reading:

plowing through Team of Rivals.  Still.  When I have time to pick it up, I’m loving it.  I am more amazed by Abraham Lincoln all the time.

Finisher:

finished a small project.  Mostly disgusted with myself, though.

Record Keeping:

spent time writing in my journal today, working through a concern I have.

Creativity:

had big plans for Mother’s Day, but all were postponed due to illness.

A Soft Reply:

I’m a lecturer by nature, but am trying to reform myself.  I bit my tongue at least once each day when talking to my oldest son and refrained from lecturing.

And there you have it.

Wishing you a great week, Jennifer

Cloudy Inside



This is what last weekend’s snow did to our cherry tree.  It’s so sad to see this year’s beauty and potential fruit gone so soon.

The sun is shining today and the sky is clear and blue.  Just the weather I’ve been longing for all these dark, gray, cloudy months.

I should be celebrating, but I can’t seem to shake the clouds inside.  I feel a little like those blossoms.  Spent.

My washing machines are hard at work eradicating another night of sickness among us.  As tired as I am of it all, I must admit I was relieved when the 10th member of our family finally gave in to the virus.  We’ve set a new family record:  ten cases of stomach flu in six days, four of them hitting within 90 minutes of each other.

It’s been such a wasted week.  Everything is dirty.  We’re behind in everything.  I picked up my camera and took a walk around the house looking for even one happy, tidy spot.  I couldn’t find one.  I’m over the bug myself but can’t seem to shake the ball of lead I’m carrying around in my stomach.  I know I should roll up my sleeves and get to work, but I don’t have any fight in me this morning.

Can I just cancel May?

I have a problem.

Perhaps feeling lousy has me discouraged.  Perhaps it’s just humbled me enough to be honest with myself.  Perhaps the sight of dirty laundry and dirty everything that piles up when your whole family is sick has me feeling overwhelmed.

Any way you look at it, I have a problem.


I have too many interests, too many ideas.  I like too many things.  I like them enough and am good enough at them that I end up pursuing too many interests, too many projects, always believing that I’ll have time to accomplish what seems so beautifully simple at the time, convinced as well that I might actually become good at it.

And so I start.  And then I’m interrupted.  And then life goes on.

And right now I feel trapped by all my silly dreams, wishing I’d never spent the money, or begun, or even dreamed it up.

Am I an incurable optimist, or certifiably insane?  The ball could fall either way.

But either way, I’m still in trouble.  It’s got to stop.  I’m raising 8 children, for crying out loud!  In what universe did I think that added up to time for anything extra?  And why am I afraid to get rid of it all, to quit everything but the very basics of being a Mom?  Am I afraid that in the end there will be nothing left of me?  Am I afraid to truly forget myself?  Or is there some part of me that I’m supposed to keep alive in these crazy years?

Sometimes none of this bothers me.

Today it does.  Today it makes me cry.

Can I just “reboot” my life and go back 15 years to get it all right?  How is it that I managed to be so successful in my pre-marital life, only to look around today and wonder what’s become of me?

Once upon a time I saw so clearly the girl I meant to be.
Today I see a mess.  Lots of them.

And that is my problem.

HH

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