How Do I Know?

One of the favorite movies and soundtracks in our family is Enchanted. Whitney can be heard belting the music while she dances and spins in circles wherever and whenever the notion strikes. Her favorite? (This must be sung with staccato emphasis on each word, which is how Whitney sings this part.) "How do I know he loves me?" It was with this song running through my head that I started to think...

The past couple of days, there have been a few things that have happened that remind me how I know Ryan loves me. First of all, one of the hardest things about having a new baby is the lack of sleep. Clayton sleeps well for the most part. But, there are some nights, I only get about 3-4 hours of sleep before he wakes up. Sometimes, when I go in to feed him, I fall asleep in the recliner in his room, sitting straight up with my neck cranked to one side. Not very relaxing. On the nights when I fall asleep in the rocker, I don't feel as energetic the next day. Heaven help the mom with 3 children age 4 and under who doesn't have any energy! So, I usually try to keep myself awake for long enough to get Clayton back to bed. (Usually 15- 30 min.) The other night, I fell asleep in the recliner again around 2:30 a.m. Sometime around 4 a.m., I woke with a start when Clayton's door opened. There was my sweet husband waking me up so I could get back to bed and feel well rested when I got up for the day. He didn't have to get up at 4. He was just helping me get more sleep because he knows how badly I need it.

This morning, as I was getting ready for the day, I noticed that my cell phone was on my husband's dresser. I immediately knew that he had heard it "complaining" it was almost out of juice--and he plugged it in to charge on his dresser. This happens on an almost regular basis. Sometimes, I don't hear my phone signaling in distress. Other times, I hear it, but I just don't care enough to go get it. My husband, on the other hand, cares enough about my phone that he will plug it in for me.

There are, of course, other ways that I know my husband loves me. But, these small things make me so happy because I know my husband is doing them to help me be happy. I couldn't have asked for anyone better!

The Safety of Home

Lately, in her prayers, Kallie has been asking to "please bless us with the safety of home." I think she may have combined a few things she's heard us pray for, but I wanted to know what she meant by it. So I asked. At first she didn't know. And then after a couple of days passed, she said, "Mom, I think it means to help us be safe at home."

In my mind, it became something different as I thought about it. The world is crazy. I don't think anyone can deny that. The speed at which everything moves, the dangers--real or perceived--that "lurk" around every corner, spirituality and morality has become relative.

But, our home is a haven from the world. We generally don't watch a lot of TV--possibly by choice, but more because it's just more noise. I have 3 kids. I don't need more noise. We rarely have the radio on--even in the car. Once again, more noise. I don't mind quiet peaceful music, because that is soothing to a frazzled soul. Our home is one in which the Gospel of Jesus Christ is taught--doctrines which are also soothing to a frazzled soul. These are things which, to me, allow my home to feel safe and secure.

So, as I hear my daughter pray for "the safety of home," I silently second the request. Please let my children, my husband, and myself carry the safety of home with us as we navigate this turbulent world. And please magnify my efforts to make our home a place of safety.

Fun Giveaways!

March seems to be the month of giveaways! I have two to share:

First of all, my friend Heidi is hosting her first ever giveaway HERE. Her friend is offering custom wall letters for your child (or you, I suppose). You should check it out--so cute! (I'm hoping to win this one so I can cross Whitney's wall letters off my TO DO list, where they have been residing for about 2 1/2 years now.)

Also, my friend Shannon is hosting a giveaway of chocolate and lip gloss HERE. If you know me, you know that these are two of my favorite things on the planet! Of course, I'd like to win this one too--for that reason.

Head on over and check them both out!

Riding the Potty Train

Whitney was ready to potty train about 5 months ago. But, there was a new baby. And a new calling. And the holidays were approaching. And I hated potty training the first time around. And... I'm sure I could come up with 35 other reasons not to pursue potty training at that point.

January rolled around. The baby was a bit older. The new calling was not so new anymore. The holidays were behind us. Potty training wasn't THAT bad the first time around, right? So I decided to give it another try.

The result was accident after accident all day every day. I tried not to be frustrated. I tried to show Whitney how FUN it is to use the potty. I tried using a reward system. I tried TWO reward systems. Nothing worked.

Ryan said, "Just give it time. We have to let Whitney do it when she's ready." So, I did. I hushed all of those voices in my head that said, "She's three. Some kids have been potty trained for a year by now. At the rate we're going, we may hit four. Or five. (Please no.)"

And, then, two weeks ago, she ran into the bathroom all by herself and she pooped in the potty. And then, on Sunday, someone in Primary noticed she was doing the potty dance and took her to the bathroom. And then during that week, I found her running to the potty. And then she wore the same diaper for an entire day because she stayed dry. And she refused to wear a pull-up to bed. Or at all. And she was potty trained.

Oh, the rewards systems are still in place. I want her to know that I do what I say I'm going to do. But, most of the time, she forgets. Potty training has not been about rewards for her. But, about being a big girl. She has been dry for 5 days straight. And she is triumphant.

Even when she went to the baby sitter's house. Even when she's playing outside with her sister. Even when she's dressed up like a princess. She makes it to the potty on time. Because she's a big girl.

And everyone at our house is thrilled because she did it herself.

Third Time's the Charm

A few years ago, I was sitting with my friend on the steps outside my Wymount apartment. We were chatting about having children. At the time, I had my two girls and my friend's third child was several months old. She commented that sometimes she wished she had been married sooner, so she could have a lot of children. I had recently gone through some tough times related to having babies and wasn't sure I could handle more than the two I had--so I couldn't share that thought process. And, as I talked with her, a thought came to me. People who have more than two kids must really love kids.

At the time Kallie was 3 and Whitney was 1 1/2. While they were still young, it seemed that there was still plenty of "me" time. I was able to sleep through the night and get up and exercise each morning. I also had time to accomplish various projects and get the apartment clean. Watching my friend, (who really is a great mom--I still look up to her!), it seemed that she was involved with kids from dawn until dusk. I remember her saying she wanted to get up early in the morning before the kids woke--and all I could think was, "Your baby just started sleeping through the night! Give yourself a break!" To be quite honest, I wasn't sure that I enjoyed children and/or parenting enough to enjoy a third child. For the record, I really love my kids--I just wasn't sure I loved children enough in general to make that difficult jump to three.

Now that I actually have three, my theory stands true in my own life. My days are filled from dawn to dusk with mothering. My children have become my most important project. Of course, they were important before--but most free time is now filled with children. Having a third child has been the easiest transition yet. I find myself wanting so many of the same things my friend expressed to me that afternoon. I would love to have a houseful of children and those early morning hours seem like the best time to wake and prepare for the day ahead. There isn't a lot of time for projects. Some have been put on hold indefinitely. And, my "me" time has significantly decreased. But, this doesn't bother me at all. To everything there is a season--and there is no better time than now to enjoy being a mother--to throw myself into it heart and soul and soak it up as much as possible.

Post-Script:
Just for the record, this doesn't mean I never have bad days. I've been reflecting on embracing motherhood the past couple of days and these have been my thoughts. And, one more thing, I understand that the number of children you are able to have doesn't mean you do or don't love mothering. This is just the learning process that I have experienced on the path of my own motherhood.

The eyes have it...

We've been sickies for the past week at our house. The cold symptoms have hit some of us harder than others...and Whitney is still bearing the brunt of it. She's so sick that you can still see it in her eyes. (Come to think of it, she's the only one on antibiotics. Strange.) Anyway--because of this, I've let the girls watch a movie in the morning the past few days to keep Whitney resting so she can get over this darn cold!

This morning, Whitney requested "Lost Nemo." I took advantage of the time to put the baby to bed and send out a few e-mails. I came downstairs when there was about 30 min. left in the movie. Kallie turned to me and said, "Mom, I was so happy that I got tears in my eyes."

"Why?"

"Because we are a family forever."

We are. And, that makes me so happy that it gives me tears in my eyes, too.

The Crock Pot Conundrum

I got a crock pot as a wedding gift. Yes, it was really given to us, but I think everyone understands why I say I got it.

It's one of the gifts I've used the most in the past 6 years. And, let me tell you, I love that thing to pieces. Literally. Both handles have fallen off and there's something rattling around inside...maybe a screw? Maybe a plastic handle-connecting piece? It still works great--but the whole rattling thing makes us uneasy.

I'm sure you can imagine my excitement last Christmas when I opened a shiny new crock pot! I no longer feel the need to wince when I plug it in for fear that somehow, that screw was going to lodge itself in a precarious spot and cause a catastrophe upon connection with an electical source. The new one is completely intact and rattle-free! I love my new crock pot. And, it has already slow-cooked many delicious meals for us. But, one problem still remains.

When I put something into the crock pot, it's usually early in the day and I'm not really very hungry. However, right around lunch time, delicious aromas begin to sneak out from under the glass lid covering the enormous stoneware pot. Those aromas then seek me out, wherever I happen to be, and wriggle their way up into my olfactories. And I think it's going to be a great dinner.

By the time lunch rolls around, I'm unconsciously in the mood for whatever is simmering away in the crock. So, I usually end up putting together a little of this and a little of that for lunch, because this and that would really hit the spot. And, I eat lunch. And it does hit the spot.

It's only after lunch that I realize what I ate involves the same ingredients that are bubbling away in the crock pot. I'm one who doesn't like to eat the same thing twice in a row. Even two days in a row is pushing it for me. And, suddenly, dinner doesn't sound so great anymore.

The Cook-Off

Remember how I said I had a million posts to post? Well, this is one of those.

Back in October, our ward held a chili cook-off in conjunction with a Halloween party. I make good chili, but mine is really nothing to brag about. So, I decided not to enter. Ryan, on the other hand, has been dabbling more in the kitchen and decided to enter. He found a recipe on Allrecipes.com (Boilermaker Chili), went shopping, and put it all together. We ended up with a stock pot FULL of chili--but it was the best chili I'd ever tasted. Heavy on the meat with just enough heat to give it a nice kick, but not enough to merit the title of "This will burn your entire digestive track." (1000 times better than "Darn Good Chili" from Bear Creek Soup. The name used to be "Damn Good Chili," but they either changed the recipe or realized all those Mormons in Utah weren't buying the chili because of the foul language on the packaging.)

As the judges were deliberating near the serving table, we kept hearing them mention a certain number. I wasn't sure which number was assigned to our pot, but Ryan was pretty sure it was ours. And, if I'm honest, other chilis were good--just not with the depth of flavor that ours had.

Sure enough, when the winner was announced, it was Ryan! He won an apron along with bragging rights until the next chili cook-off. I've wondered for a long time if there was anything Ryan doesn't succeed at. With this accomplishment, I'm starting to realize that there really is nothing he can't do!

Clayton's Blessing

Well, now that it's been over 2 months since Clayton was blessed, I thought I'd finally post about it. Really, it just took me that long to get the pics downloaded to my computer.

Isn't he the cutest little guy? The morning of his blessing was a little hectic for me. (Details in this post.) But, Clayton was a little trooper. He was very calm all morning--he ate when I needed him to, slept when I needed him to, and even smiled when I needed him to. And, I think he is my first kid to not scream right before/after taking pics. He did fuss a little (a very little) just as Sacrament meeting was starting. I stood at the back and rocked him and he was asleep within a couple of minutes. Ryan gave Clayton a beautiful blessing. It talked a lot about missionary work and sharing his testimony. I am profoundly grateful that my husband is able to bless my children. And, I'm also incredibly grateful for such a sweet little boy!

Electricity vs. Fire

Six years ago, at this time of year, Ryan and I were in the midst of falling in love. (Now that I think about it, we're still in the midst of falling in love.) :) We started dating November 21 and were engaged on January 24. My entire life, I wanted a Christmas/winter romance--and that's what I got. Happy memories are constantly coming to mind during this season and I can't help but think about what has brought us to this point.

Recently, I read a book that was a little more on the romance side than I generally prefer. I am NOT a romance novel fan. Some of you are shocked by this. In thinking about the story line of the book and comparing it to the story line of my life, I realized there's a big difference between electricity and fire.

When I was in college, I dated one guy and I felt actual electricity when he was around. It was so strong that I was suprised there weren't little blue sparks shooting around me when he was around. While it was fun, the electricity wasn't enough to spark a real romance and we broke up after about 6 weeks. You see, electricity is something that can be started with a switch. It doesn't take much effort to flip a light switch on...or off, for that matter. Once the light is on, there's not a lot I have to do to keep it going. Until the lightbulb burns out. Or until I decide I'm done with that room, turn off the light, and move on.

On the other hand, what I felt when I started dating Ryan had nothing to do with sparks. It was all about warmth and depth. It's really hard to explain the feeling, but it felt like the glow of a small fire inside of me. The more that I spent time with Ryan, the bigger and warmer the fire grew. Here's the thing--starting a fire takes effort. There are certain steps that need to be taken to stack the kindling and wood in preparation for a roaring fire. And, once it's going, it takes work and effort to keep it going. You have to stack the wood, rearrange the wood, and keep the water away. If a fire is neglected, it will eventually die out on its own. Even when doused with water, you have to stir the embers and check for hot spots before you can be sure it's out.

I'm not sure what made the difference between the sparks I felt with some and the fire I felt from the beginning with Ryan. What I am sure of is that I have the most amazing husband I could have ever hoped for. On these growing-ever-colder winter nights, the fire of his love still warms my heart.