My Mom by Mallary

I taught preschool this past week and had the kids answer these questions about their moms.  It was pretty funny to ask Mallary these questions and to hear her answers!

My mom by Mallary:

1.       What is something Mommy always says to you?

You can have it.

2.       What makes Mommy happy?

If you give her hugs and kisses or snugglebugs

3.       What makes Mommy sad?

If she trips over something hard.

4.       How does Mommy make you laugh?

Tickle me.

5.       How old is Mommy?

31

6.       How tall is Mommy?

10

7.       What is Mommy’s favorite thing to do?

Type on the computer and make cookies for me and Trevan

8.       What does Mommy do when you aren’t around?

Cook something, Play with her friends

9.       What is Mommy really good at?

At Cooking

10.   What is Mommy not very good at?

Putting on makeup

11.   What is Mommy’s favorite food?

Vegetables, lasagna, carrots, grapes, and apple juice

12.   How are you and Mommy the same?

Our color of eyes

13.   What do you and Mommy do together?

Cook and clean the livingroom

14.   Where is Mommy’s favorite place to go?

At the stores, at the gym, at the lake, at the beach

15.   How do you know Mommy loves you?

When you give me kisses, and hugs, and snuggle bugs

Number one cracks me up - she wishes I always said that...  I love number 10!  I'm not very good at putting on make up apparently...  Number 14 proves she knows me pretty well!  Number 15 reaffirms that I think Mallary's love language is touch.  Because the two other little girls answered that question with, "because she tells me," and I thought Mallary would do the same, because I tell her, so I was kind of surprised when she said what she did and kind of not surprised at the same time. 

That John...

I'm trying to lose weight.  I mean I could try harder, but I'm still trying...  I'm holding steady at 7 pounds. 

That's it. 

At least I'm not gaining, right? 

Well... 

For Mother's Day, John ordered these brownies for me again. (my favorite are the toffee and the caramel)

When I opened them up, I just looked at him, "I'm trying to lose weight, remember???" 

I happened to look on the wrapper at the calorie count - over 400 calories for ONE brownie! 

He got them for me last year, and I ate them like there was no tomorrow.  No wonder I gained weight after I had Jonah!

400 calories!!!  Yikes!!   

There was another box to open as well, and before I could open it, John had to give me his speech (like he always does before giving me a gift, and I've now realized that when he does this, I know he's spent too much money, because he's trying to justify why he got it for me...). 

His speech went something like this:

"You are so stressed out, and you do so much for our family, and I want you to be able to relax more, and this will help you do it..."

I open it, and it's a Nook Color.

I just looked at him again. 

"When am I going to have time to read?"  (You can call me a mean wife if you want, but the first words out of my mouth were not, 'thank you.' I'm a pretty practical person when it comes to bigger ticket items, and this did not seem practical.)

John tries to give thoughtful gifts - his thoughtfulness; "It has a light so you can read in bed (which happens far less than I'd like, but when you go to bed at 2AM you can't really make time to read) or on our car trips," "you can search the Internet," "I was going to get you a new GPS (ours broke... John broke it), but you can use this as a GPS too," "it has kids books on it too," "you can read magazines," "and you can use it in Jamaica."  (we're going to Jamaica!) All very thoughtful sentiments.

The conspiracy:  One - John likes to give me gifts that he wants too, and Two - I've decided John really wants me to look like I'm five months pregnant for the rest of my life; he wants me to sit on my rump and read my Nook while I eat 400 calorie brownies... 

So, I need your help on what to read on my Nook for my trips this summer.  Give me some of your favorite books, must reads, enlightening reads, motivational reads, inspiring reads!  Along with your recommendations, could you give me a movie rating on the book?

Thanks for helping me, and John thanks you too as he tries to keep me well read, and well "rounded."

Mother's Day II

I meant to post this on Mother's Day...

My sister emailed us these quotes for Mother's Day. They so describe my mother.

"I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived."

"We women have a lot to learn about simplifying our lives. We have to decide what is important and then move along at a pace that is comfortable for us. We have to develop the maturity to stop trying to prove something. We have to learn to be content with what we are."

These quotes were by Marjorie Pay Hinckley.

I've shed a few tears missing my mom recently. I've found at major milestones in our lives, or our childrens, we wish she was here to celebrate with us. When my family got together a few weekends ago for Jonah's baby blessing, I wished she could have been there with us to coo over her new grandson, or just so I could snuggle beside her on the couch.

Still trying to be like her...

Still have a long way to go...

:)

Happy Mother's Day

I think my husband set the bar too high; encouraging me to set my expectations even higher.

It was our first year of marriage, and mother's day was going to be that weekend. I was not yet a mother, nor expecting to be anytime soon. But, my husband showed up at my work carrying shopping bags. From those bags, he presented me with three or four pairs of shoes, and told me to choose one. He said it was my mother's day present. Not like I was going to reject a new pair of shoes, so no complaints from me.

That was my first experience with mother's day. I thought to myself, "I'm going to like this mother's day thing..."

A few years ago, he even gave me a plane ticket to Utah to visit a college roommate, who's husband also gave her a plane ticket to Utah for her birthday so we could meet up and eat at our favorite spots, shop, and visit without our kids. Now, that, was a mother's day present.

So, I blame my husband for setting my expectations too high.

I'm just going to admit it; I like/want to be pampered, spoiled, surprised, the whole nine yards for Mother's Day. I know I made it harder for my husband since I informed him before we were even married, that I would prefer not to get flowers on holidays. Or even just because days. They just die, and I hate spending money on something that is only going to last a few days. Bring me a potted plant, or give me the ten bucks or so you'd spend on flowers and let me go shopping. (I know! I should just be grateful that I have a husband that wants to bring me flowers... but, what's wrong with a gift card to TJ Maxx?) That makes me a little bit of a brat, I guess.

Anyway, so this morning as my husband was downstairs making me "breakfast in bed," I was upstairs getting myself and the kids ready for church; trying to get Trevan to put his clothes on, convince Mallary to let me brush her hair, give Jonah a bath, and honestly, getting a little frustrated. John bought me breakfast in the kids room at 8:30 (he got out of bed a little late, and for the record, it was sweet of him, and it was delicious), and I said, "Maybe next year instead of breakfast you could just help me get the kids ready for church." To which he replied, "Maybe I'll do both."

More expectations...

You know what though? I really shouldn't need gifts. Really I don't need them (though still nice), I do not need them. I don't. That's how I feel deep down, I guess my brattiness just raises to the surface. I know this may sound cheesy, but I don't need gifts, or the Mother's Day cards, or the red carnation they gave us at church - just being a mother is the greatest gift.

I think especially having a new baby for Mother's Day makes it extra special. There's just something about our new baby that I can't get enough of. I feel different than I did with my other kids. With Trevan, I was a new mom going through this new experience, and everything was just new and different. With Mallary, I had a bit of the baby blues, and felt a lot of guilt because I wasn't spending 24/7 with Trevan anymore. With Jonah, I feel different... it's hard to describe... contentment? I'm not sure. I'm just full of SO MUCH love. How can it even be possible to love him more now than I did yesterday? Or more than I did an hour ago??? How is it even possible to love three little people like that? But, it is, because that's how I feel. It's like this new little baby has helped me feel motherhood even more deeply.

There is a song by Jenny Jordan Frogley, called, "Sweet Love," which many may find a little cheesy, but I listen to it and get goosebumps because I feel like that in a lot of ways.

You can listen to it HERE. Go the the song list on the right and click on Sweet Love to listen.

So, really, I don't need shoes or an airline ticket (you're thinking, "duh.") to feel honored on mother's day, when I have my Trevan who gave me a clover and wished me Happy Mother's Day on Saturday, or my little Mallary who asks to snuggle with me, or my sweet baby, Jonah, who covers me in spit up. They were my gift today. My sweet, priceless gifts.

And the cherry on top? My little baby smiled at me with his eyes open for the first time today. Now that's a Mother's Day present.

I wonder what he'll come up with next year?

(Uh oh, more expecations...)

Happy Mother's Day

My mom holding Mallary

“If I were to die today, what would my children remember about me?” A bit morbid, I know, but I often consider this thought. It is scary to think of how your children will be raised if you were to die. I know mine are still young, but would they remember anything about me? Would Trevan remember I taught him how to use good manners? Is Mallary just going to remember what my back looks like when I’m working on the computer? Will she remember me rocking her and singing to her? Will the sound of a sewing machine remind them of their mother? Will the TJ Maxx or Marshalls logo make Trevan think of me? Will they remember how often I threw up my hands in frustration while sighing my famous sigh at having to clean up another mess? I’m hoping that they would at least remember my laughter or their silly mommy dancing in the kitchen or in the car. I really do worry what would happen to my children if I were to die. What kind of influence can I have on their lives if I am not around? What stories will they hear about me? Will they know how much I loved them? What my dreams were? What kind of people I hoped they would become?

The possibility of dying and not being able to teach my children the things I want them to know scares me. Am I the only one? What am I leaving them to remember? What lessons will they have learned from me? Do I have the things I want them to know written down somewhere?

After losing my mother last year, I thought about these things even more. I mentioned before how much I treasure my mothers letters to me, and being able to have her journal to read anytime I would like to. Well, last year on mother’s day I started a new tradition of writing a letter to each of my children on Mother’s Day. I will compile them someday and give them to them. So, if I were to leave earlier than I’d hoped, they would know at least a little bit about me, the things I love and believe, and how much I loved them and felt so very fortunate to be their mother. Having had just lost my mother, in each letter I included a little something about Grandma and something that she taught me. That will also be part of the tradition to help them learn a little bit about her and how much she loved them.

One year ago, the first weekend of April, I had my last real conversation with my mother. We were up visiting for conference weekend. We watched conference in the living room as my tiny mother slept stretched out in her make shift bed on the love seat, listening to her snoring come and go. She rested a lot that weekend. I wished I had kept a journal then and written all of this fresh when it happened. I remember her waking up to greet us and exchanging kisses, her playing in the floor with Trevan for a little while, and her wanting to see the scar on my back from my most recent mole removal surgery.

When you know your mother is dying, you find yourself a bit desensitized from the constant resting and discomfort while at the same time wanting to curl up next to her and sob. You try to focus on everything else going on around you to distract you from the sadness (desensitizing myself as a way of coping). I tried to focus on conference that day, because the moment I let my mind drift back to my mother asleep across the room, the tears would start to come.

Later that afternoon Mom had been resting on her bed, and I went up and sat on Dad’s side assuming the normal position, one foot tucked under me, the other one resting on the bed rail.

I am sure I asked how she was feeling, and I am sure she asked what was going on downstairs. That weekend mom wasn’t really carrying on long conversations, and the conversations were kind of random.

“Mom, can I look at your buttons some time to use for some of my crafts?” I asked. That wasn’t the real reason I was there, but I had been thinking about it.

Silence for a little while. Intermittent, random conversation.

I couldn’t hold it back any longer, and I started to cry, “Mom, I’m just so sad.” “Aren’t you just so sad, and frustrated that you have to deal with this?” “Doesn’t it just make you mad?” I can’t remember all the other things I said, but I just let it go. “You deserve to enjoy growing old with dad, and doing all those things you wanted to do.”

My mom was quiet for a few seconds then started, “Your father and I have shared so much. We have had so many special moments through this that I wouldn’t trade for anything. There have been so many miracles.” Then she got emotional, “I just feel so sorry that he has had to deal with all of this.” She got a little more emotional, “Holly, soon I get to see a lot of my family that I haven’t seen in a long time, and look forward to meeting some I have never met before. I will miss my grandchildren, and it makes me sad I won’t get to see Trevan and Mallary grow up. I love my grandchildren so much. I know I’m a child of God. I know that He loves me.”

There was more conversation like this, but I can’t remember any of it. There was silence for a while, and then my mom said, “Make sure to stay on top of your weight. I know it’s hard when you’re nursing.” (I think she remembered we had just had a conversation on the phone about me trying to lose weight) “Ummm, mom, I’m not really worried about it, it will be easier when I stop nursing.”

More silence, and then mom breaks it by saying, “Let’s go look at the buttons.”

I really wasn’t ready for our conversation to end.

“Mom, we don’t have to do that right now.”

She was already out of the bed and walking out of the room. Wiping my eyes I followed her down the hall and down the stairs. “Mom, we don’t have to do this right now.”

She got in the floor and started rummaging through the white cabinets. “Mom, I can do that.”

“Why is your mother in the floor?” (I knew my Dad was going to say that as soon as he walked into the room.) “What is she doing in the floor?” “Mary, get out of the floor.” (yes, out of the floor, not off)

“Dad, I asked her about buttons… I didn’t mean right now… already tried…”

That evening, saying good-bye to my mom was so hard. I think I put it off as long as I could. I hugged her and just held on knowing it would probably be one of the last times. I cried as John backed the car out of the driveway, and I cried off and on the whole trip home.

Mom was put in the hospital soon after that, and passed away about two weeks after that weekend.

You’ve seen those deathbed scenes in movies and on TV, the person dying seems to always have some message for the people they are leaving behind. Last words of wisdom, making people make promises, etc. I expected it to be like that. Mom didn’t say a lot in the hospital, she was kept pretty sedated because of her pain. During that last week while sitting by her bedside, part of me expected her to all of sudden wake up and have some last words of wisdom for us. She didn’t do that, and honestly, I was a little disappointed. Didn’t my mother have any last words of wisdom to leave me? Didn’t she want me to promise to do something?

How silly of me.

Seriously, just within the past few months I realized that my mother didn’t need to leave me with any last words, or advice. She left me with her life full of examples of how I should be living. She didn’t need to make me promise anything; she’s taught me my whole life. I know what she would expect of me, and what she would hope I would be doing. I don’t know why I thought she would feel the need to add anything more.

The only thing she really said while in the hospital was, “I love you.” I think that was the only thing important enough to her for her to muster up the energy to say. Though, I really didn’t need her to tell me that, I knew she loved me - she spent my whole life showing me and telling me that she did.

Hopefully, my children will be able to say the same of me.