Category: Helpfulness of Habit

May is an interesting month.

There’s a reason why I dread it.  We’re too busy.  We’re tired.  We’re never home.  End of year assignments inevitably come, bringing various family members to the brink of tears.  Soccer games.  Recitals.  Soccer tryouts.  Registration for school the next year.  Scheduling for the summer.

It doesn’t matter how hard I try to prevent it.  It doesn’t matter that I know it’s coming.  The stress still builds and I still feel like our lives begin to unravel; first slowly and then rapidly until at last I wonder which will come to an end first, the school year or the string, or perhaps my sanity.   I’m afraid my sanity is running low.

Here I sit, midway through the month.  We’re in the thick of it.  Once again, I wonder if we’ll make it.  Sometimes I hate this month.  I hate it because it spotlights all my failings.  I hate it because I always forget this or miss that.  I hate it because the house is a mess.  I hate the late night trips to the store for this or that project.  I hate the last minute rush to provide yet another plate of cookies for whatever.  I hate it because I’m behind on laundry.  I hate it because we’re too busy to tackle the yard.  I hate the way we live exhausted.  I hate it because it makes me feel like a failure.  I always wonder what’s become of me and if I have any potential after all.

I just used the word “hate” a lot of times.  I know it’s just a month, and a lot of great things happen in May.   Every year I promise myself it will be different and I’m so disappointed when it isn’t.

Ok, enough ranting.

It was another rugged week.   If I didn’t gain ground,  I suppose I gave up a minimal amount.

We had a party of sorts on Friday night.  We let our oldest two invite a bunch of friends over to grill hot dogs, roast marshmallows, and play night games.  Our numbers 2 and 3 also invited a friend.  It went well and everyone had a great time.  We had around 30 kids running around for several hours.  It took both of us to manage it, but my husband and I pulled it off and had fun doing it.

We also had our busiest weekend as far as travel for soccer.  It worked out.

I’m reading Team of Rivals in every spare minute.  I love this book.  I have only 2 1/2 chapters left and am feeling sad about finishing.  I don’t want Lincoln to die.   More on this topic soon.  I mention it only because reading is a habit I’m re-enthroning this year.

It’s 5:30 p.m. as I type this, but I’m falling asleep as I do.  I’d best get dinner finished and on the table so we can get a decent night’s sleep.  I hope your month is going well, and that your week is great!

Jennifer

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

Sunday May 1, 2011 Dear Mom, You know how you don’t like it when we make messes in the house, well we don’t like it when you yell at us and say we are going to be grounded.  But one thing, I am not going to be like you when I grow up and am a mom.

Love A.

 

According to this letter from my daughter today, I’m not doing so hot.  Part of the note makes me laugh, and part of it makes me want to cry.  She is sooo sensitive.  Part of me hopes she’s nothing like me; I want her to be so much better than I am.   Much of the time I’m not too thrilled with who I am, either.  And part of me thinks, “just you wait until you grow up and have kids and all the things you promised yourself you would never do when you’re a mom will all happen anyway.”

So here we are at the end of a good but exhausting week and I wish I could say things are better.  I wish I could say I am growing.  We’re just stretched so thin that I see gaping holes all around me.  By the time I get one patched up I turn around and there’s another new hole in a place I thought was tightly woven.  Is life like this for every mother, I wonder, or am I just fundamentally flawed?

I worked hard this week to keep the house looking better.  I also worked hard in the cooking department.  On Friday afternoon when I picked the children up from school most of it was looking pretty good and I felt good about it.  By Saturday afternoon I was back at square one.  The price we pay for soccer season is so high; last night I found myself questioning the value of it, wondering if it’s right to do things this way.  Last night when we put the girls to bed my husband commented on the collection of clothing on their floor.  All I could say was, “I see it too.  Please don’t make me talk about it right now or I’ll just cry.”  So he wisely ignored it, prayed with the girls, and the subject was closed.  Never mind that I’d done 18 loads of laundry on Thursday and Friday.  The bathrooms need attention.  My kitchen cabinets need scrubbing.  My kitchen floor needs mopping.

On Friday night we had two soccer games, one in Sandy and one in West Valley.  I sent my husband to one and took most of the children to the one in West Valley, where we sat in our car and watched my son play in a blizzard.  Just after half time, my 20 month old threw up without warning.  She was sitting on my lap.  She threw up all over me, all over herself, all over my steering wheel, all over the hardback book I was reading, all over my daughter’s backpack.  Awesome.

What can I say?  The trenches are the trenches, and I spend a majority of my time in them.  Somebody said that motherhood is the equivalent of being on the front lines of humanity.  It’s true.  And sometimes the front lines aren’t very pretty, and sometimes the job description isn’t much fun, and sometimes you wonder if you’re all alone.  Sometimes you gain ground; sometimes you fall back.  I’m not in a very glorious stage.  Today my children were ALL monsters in Church.  I wanted to come home and put them all in cages!

The thing about the trenches, the thing about being on the front lines, is that you simply don’t quit .   And you pray.  Right now it’s the only real answer I have.  I don’t know what else to do.  And so we move on, trusting (and rejoicing) in the reality of a Savior who supplies endless second chances.  And you hope you get it right before your children are all grown up and gone.

The End.
Jennifer