A Letter to My Daughter

Warning: If you read this blog for the fits and giggles and pics of silly children, and you really don't want any serious garbledegook from me, you should probably skip this one and come back next week. But it occurred to me the other day that while usually this blog is about the joyful, difficult, and ofttimes ridiculous experience that is raising my children, it can also be about what motherhood is to me. And I can't shake the feeling that I need to use it as such occasionally, specifically this time. So here goes.

A few nights ago, I couldn't sleep. This isn't a new thing—I've had sleeping issues my whole life. But whenever this happens, I become obnoxiously pensive. And this night was no different. But unlike most nights, when the sickness in my mind makes me think of my inadequacies and imperfections, this time I thought about a comment Mike made the other day: I sacrificed a lot of things to become a stay-at-home mother. Why? What did I give up? What about my life is so much better? What would I tell my children about this decision?

I decided to write a letter to Katie. And while I have a whole journal that I write in for her regularly, this letter is different. This is about my story, not hers. But it's about something she needs to understand.


My Beautiful Katie,

When I was growing up, I had big plans. Like most chronic bookworms, I wanted to be an editor. But unlike all those other kids, I still wanted to be an editor even after I found out that I wouldn't just be reading fun books all day long. When I started taking classes for my editing minor, I fell in love with the English language. I began to love my editing classes even more than my lit classes for my English major. I loved marking up manuscripts, picking apart each sentence until it had just the right zing; I loved matching up serifs and non-serifs to create the perfect page design; I even loved measuring out the perfect margins on each side of a page depending on the content of the book. I know, it sounds nerdy. But it was my dream.

Then, on January 14, 2011, everything changed. I had just begun my very last semester at BYU; I only had one class. Your father and I were both unsure of where we were going or how our future would look. But that morning, after weeks and months and years of praying, hoping, and preparing, a nurse laid a little creature on my chest, swollen, pink, fuzzy, and smelling so new it overwhelmed me. It was you. Even now, I can perfectly remember it. You were so perfect, with wide open eyes taking everything in, even when you were only a few minutes old. I was completely blown away by how beautiful you were—soft, fuzzy skin, sweet little button nose, soft blonde wispy hair on top of your head. I pressed you to my chest, warm and completely mine, like you hadn't even realized you weren't still a part of my body. I pressed my nose against your shoulder, smelling your skin that was still so perfect, pure, untouched by anything bad the world would eventually start to throw at you. You were everything to me.

My mother used to say to me when I was a kid that I would never understand how much she loved me until I had children. When I met your father and we fell deeply, eternally in love, I thought I was starting to understand. When I was pregnant with you, feeling you start to wiggle and move, I thought I was getting closer. But that cold winter morning, looking into your face, I realized that there was nothing in the world I could love more than you—that you were the reason I existed. The reason I had been born, the whole reason I had lived thus far, was to bring you into the world.

That said, I don't think I ever consciously made the decision to stay home with my children instead of pursuing a career. I only knew that if I tried to hand you over and let someone else raise you while I went off to work to chase the praise of the world, it would break my heart. I couldn't miss one minute.

I'm not saying that it's bad if other moms choose to work. Some need to financially, some need to to keep their sanity. It's their decision. But thanks to so many blessings and the help from others for which I have never felt worthy, I have been able to stay home with you, and now with your brothers. I'm also not saying it isn't hard. Mercy, it's hard. The cooking, diaper-changing, clothes-washing, tooth-brushing, bum-wiping, bed-making, hurt-kissing, tucking-in. The discipline, for you and for me. There have been days when I've felt like my life here was so futile, I've questioned my ability to keep going.

But just when I think it's getting too hard, you'll climb up onto my lap and snuggle like a cat, just wanting to be close to me. Or Joshy will sing my name with his little toothy grin. Or Peter will hug me around the neck, squishing his little cheek onto mine. All the times that we play together, singing primary songs and wrestling in a pile on the floor, I get a charge to my batteries. As much as I get tired, frustrated, cranky, it is all worth it for the times that you run to me and hug my legs. It's worth it to hear all three of your little voices say, "Mama!" after I've been to the store by myself. It's worth it every night when I tuck you all in, to know that none of you will go to sleep without my singing to you and kissing your foreheads. It's all worth it.

Katie, you can be anything you want to be. I'm not one of those moms who disdains princess culture and all that, but not because I don't want you to be strong. It's because I'm not worried about your being strong. Sure, there are days when you prance around the house in your princess tutu or ballerina tights. But most days, you want to be a doctor like Daddy, a soccer player, a builder, a hair-stylist, a pirate, even a duck. You have fire in your spirit, that will not be quenched, and which can be used for so much good in the world. I know that no matter what you choose to do, you will make a difference. The world will not be the same, because you are here.

But no matter what else you choose to do with your life (and it could be anything), I hope you choose to be a mother. I hope that wherever you are, whatever you are doing, when you find your true love and get married in the temple, you will choose to have a family. I hope you choose to feel the joy, love, power that comes with bringing a child into the world. Do you want to know why? Because the love I feel as a mother is the closest thing in the world to understanding how our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love us. All the sacrifices I make, all the hard work I have to fight through, is because I love you. I love you deeply, fiercely, unconditionally. The only thing I truly want from this life is for you to be able to feel this same love and joy. And I know that that is exactly what Heavenly Father wants for us as well.

I love you, sweetheart. You are a choice daughter of Heavenly Father with infinite potential. I hope I tell you enough for you to know that. I hope that as you grow, you will see life as an occasion and rise to it. You are a princess.

Love, Mommy

The Most Realistic Photo Shoot We've Had Yet

I hope everybody has recovered from the sugar crash that must have hit you guys as hard as it hit us Sunday night. Oh man, did that happen. Katie was acting like Spiderman on caffeine, climbing all over the walls, Josh was a crazy jungle man, and Peter would just sit and sing and dance whenever he had chocolate in his mouth, then start giggling hysterically. I wish I had been filming the whole day.

Besides that, though, we had a fantastic Easter holiday. The best part was that although Katie is a crazy chocola-holic just like her mother, she really gets it. We've been telling her the story of Christ's death and resurrection for Family Home Evening the last few weeks to get her ready for Easter. The first week, she was really just super obsessed with the dying part. ("Mom! Did you know that when you're a really old, old grandma, you're gonna DIE?") But after that, I think she understood the point of the story.

When we were going through the story again on Easter (when the boys were asleep so we could actually pay attention), when we got to the part when bad men were being mean to Jesus and hurting him, Katie kept reminding us, "It's okay, because after Jesus died, he was resurrected!" And she reminds us all the time now, that when we die, "It's okay, because Jesus is alive again, so we can be alive again, too!"

She's right. He lives. And so can we, through His grace. I will repeat what my mom says: the church is the most true in Primary. Children understand the simple truths and joy of the gospel better than we can sometimes. And I love it.

But as soon as the hooligans woke up, we were back to business. So I made them take some pictures.

I took these on Easter Sunday while my kids were still all gussied up (except for the occasional--or four--shoe). And they were not only all hopped up on chocolate, but they were feeling rather not like smiling at the camera. Right after I'd been bragging to somebody about how my kids are trained to smile at the camera.

So these are extremely adorable, except for the fact that the kids are either a) not looking at the camera at all, b) trying to escape, or c) making super goofy faces in an attempt to distract me so they can escape. Oh well. My kids are just that cute.

You know you love them.

Happy Easter!

Want to See Something Completely Terrifying (and also Adorable)?

Peter is a hurricane and none shall escape his path of destruction and cuteness.

Also, we went to the boys' 12 month appointment at the doctor today. Want to hear how much they weigh? Josh was 20 lbs, 14 oz, and Peter was 18 lbs, 6.5 oz. (!!!!!!!!) Josh was 40-somethingeth percentile. I just plain can't believe it. They're huge, man. Huge.

Excuse me. I have to go collapse in a stupor of shock and disbelief.

That Was the Fastest (and totally Craziest) Year of My Life

Guess what, you guys? My boys turned one yesterday.

I'm totally serious.

No, I can't believe it either. This has seriously been the fastest year of my life. Let's think about it: between April 10, 2013 and April 10, 2014, my boys turned from crazy little worms in my abdomen into humans, Katie grew pretty much her entire head of hair, we moved all the way across the country, Mike transformed into a weirdy student doctor who uses 15-syllable latin-based medical terminology instead of English, and well, we're a real, grown-up family. Not just the newlyweds with our token first child. It's real.

But after the kids are all in bed and I'm done frantically baking/cleaning/diapering/singing/wrestling/dressing/brushing/nose-wiping/mouth-swabbing/shoe-putting-back-on/crisis-averting/whatever else the heck happens in my ridiculous life, I'll feel slightly more fond of my sweet, innocent, adorable, perfectly well-behaved children. Who have really changed in the last year.

Mike and I were even musing about this the other day. Here's an approximation of our conversation:

Me: I can't believe the boys are going to be one tomorrow!
Mike: I know! I can't believe they're already so big.
Me: I still can't even believe we have twins!
Mike: I know. We survived.
Me: And you know? It's true what they say. Now that they're a year old, things are starting to get slightly easier.
Mike: Yeah, we're almost out of the sharknado! *
Me: Well, I dunno about that.
Mike: Yeah, it's still hard, but it's not a sharknado anymore. It's like . . . a cownado. Nothing is going to eat you, but you'll still get plowed over by large animals.
Me: . . .

*See reference to an awesome blog that compared the first year of twins to a sharkado here. Or if you don't know what Sharknado is, try here. But a warning: it will probably do the opposite of enrich your life.

So now we enter Year Two: The Cownado.

And now it's the next day and I'm trying to get this up to appease the Grandmas while my kids are eating crunchy leftover birthday cake that I didn't sweep up last night because I collapsed in a stupor as soon as everyone was in bed. And Katie is monopolizing the boys' birthday presents because they can't quite keep up with her when she's running. But here's a commemorative photo series. (Mom, don't cry too much, okay?)

6 weeks pregnant (I cried a lot that day)

Significantly more weeks pregnant

April 10, 2013 (Josh, Peter)

One month old (Josh, Peter)

Two months (Josh, Peter)

Three months (Peter, Josh)

Four Months (Peter, Josh)

Five Months (Josh, Peter)
 

Six Months (Josh, Peter)

Seven Months (Peter, Josh)

Eight Months (Peter, Josh)

Nine Months (Peter, Josh)

Ten Months (Josh, Peter)

Eleven Months (Peter, Josh)

Daddy got just a little too close.

Joshy LOVES birthday cake

But Peter probably loved it even more

April 10, 2014

Happy Birthday, little Hooligans. I sure hope the cownado is less terrifying than the sharknado.

We're About Four Months Behind. And Unashamed.

Remember that one time how as soon as Frozen came out, everyone went all ga-ga about the song "Let it Go"? And now everyone is super tired of it and wants everyone to just let it go? (See what I did there?)

Well, we never saw it in the theaters. And because I'm a huge fan of real actual Disney movies and I knew I was going to love it, I just went out and bought it the day it came out. And Katie and I both instantly fell in love with it. And we might be obsessing. Just a little bit.

For one thing, my mom gave me the soundtrack. For another, Katie has watched the movie about eight times in the two weeks we've had it. For a third thing, any time we're doing anything, anything at all, we're singing songs from the movie. I'll be sitting there, changing boy diapers, and Katie will come over and say, "Hey Mom! Can we sing the "window is open, so's that door" song?" And so it begins. We don't usually stop until we've gone through the entire soundtrack.

And even when we're not being a big family Broadway production, Katie is constantly singing the songs. If she's in the bathroom, she's singing "Love is an Open Door." If she's not, she's marching regally around the house with a blanket over her shoulders singing "Let it Go" at the top of her lungs. Mom, I know you're going to reference a certain little redhead singing "Part of Your World" at that age, so I will do it for you. I think I know who's daughter Katie is.

That's how amazing my daughter is.

As for the boys, well, I have some news. It's terrifying, adorable, ridiculous, and spectacular. Peter . . . has taken THREE STEPS IN A ROW. Pray for me, everyone.

Tears upon leaving the park today.

The hooligans are always trying to escape!

Peter the flirt. I'm not kidding. He's a flirt.

"Here, Mom. Let me take a selfie."

Captain Hook

Peter Pan

"Mom? Is that the outside? Can we try it, Mom?"

And there you have it. I live in a mad house. But at least there's light at the end of the tunnel. There will be sunshine someday.

Almost-Spring Shenanigans and Tomfoolery

Once upon a time, there was a slight amount of sunshine and everyone got all excited for springtime. And then it was not anymore. Blegh. The end.

You know, I was planning to write this a lot earlier in the day, but then the boys were having a hard time with their nap (on account of we are ALWAYS sick) so I didn't get the chance. And now I'm all tired and my brain disappeared, and all the thoughts I had during the day of things I should write (it was going to be very eloquent and intelligent-sounding) are gone. Alas. So you're getting the chocolate-fueled drivel that comes out of my brain after I finally get my children to bed. Sorry.

Luckily for you, I remembered to write down some pretty good Katie-isms in the last couple of weeks.

(Looking at her pansies): "Look, Mom! My panties are growing!"

(Trying to be Baby Jesus): "I disappeared in my swollen clothes!"

(While flushing the potty): "Goodbye poopie! Have fun storming the castle!"

(Upon my attempting to comb her hair): "No, Mom. Jesus wears his hair like this."

(Singing at breakfast): "Two little princesses, sitting on a speckled log, eating the most delicious dress. Yum yum!"

Aren't they great? That's my girl. She's super ridiculous. Want to know one of my favorite things, though? She's teaching her brothers to be ridiculous. For example, she likes to play "Dr. Katie," but not on her brothers, as most older siblings would. She likes to practice on me. And she employs her assistants, Nurse Joshy and Nurse Peter.

And now, even when Katie's not around, the boys will find her little Fisher Price stethoscope and blood pressure cuff and come over and start whacking me with them. Good little medical assistants.

On the flip side, they're very affectionate boys. Joshy is the king of all Momma's boys. He always wants to be holding me, rubbing his snot on my cheek, and trying to take bites of whatever sweater I happen to be wearing. He's almost gotten giant holes in some of them. But he's very sweet and loving and has a big 'ole toothy grin whenever he sees me coming.

Peter is very affectionate, but with slightly less drool and chomping (mostly because he doesn't have as many teeth). When I pick him up after his nap or when he hasn't held me in a while, he wraps his arms around my neck and gives me a big squeeze, and while Joshy's affection is usually snot-related, Peter will just climb up on my lap and press his cheek to mine.

Of course, Peter's affections also translate to his brother. Until recently, we let the boys sleep in the same bed just at night, because they like to fall asleep touching each other. Actually, they really like to cuddle. Unfortunately, however, Peter has started the process toward needing less sleep during the day, and he now takes longer to sleep at night. Which means that while Josh is ready to hunker down at bed time, Peter wants to roll over on top of his brother and smack him in the head repeatedly.

Granted, a lot of the time, it's actually a lot cuter than that. He rolls over to spoon Josh and hugs him around the waste, but apparently he hugs him too tight and Josh gets mad. Or maybe it's because he's constantly stealing Joshy's binky and smacking him with it . . .

Either way, on more than one occasion have I seen the boys snuggled up together and seen Peter with one hand on his own head, and his other hand rubbing Joshy's head.

I'm officially okay with having twins.

Detox Week

That's what my friend calls the few days after Grandma goes home: detox. On account of we've all stayed up way too late and had too many treats and parties and not enough sleep. Gagh.

And I know you've all been sitting hunched over your computers, weeping and hitting the refresh button over and over again waiting for me to write on my blog. So that's my excuse.

On the up-side, we've had a pretty fantastic last week with Grandma. She got here on March 7, and Katie decided right then and there that she was going to be superglued to Grandma's side the entire week. When we put her to bed that night, she said, "Good night, Grandma! I'm going to wake you up tomorrow!" She never failed to keep that promise.

I know right? We don't look anything alike!

We didn't do that much out of the ordinary while she was here, but our regular business was way more fun. For example, she seemed to bring the sunshine with her, and Katie got to actually ride her bike a little bit. We went shopping, read probably a bazillion stories, and, between Mom treating us and the various birthdays, ate a lot of food.

One thing's for sure, though. My mom is super great. We went all crazy the week before she came because Mike had a week off between quarters. How did we spend it? Cleaning our house. Both because it needed it and because we really didn't want my mom to come here and spend a week cleaning our house. So what did she do? Wash most of the dishes while I was holding babies. Scrub the kitchen floor while I was taking a shower. Start my laundry while I was at the store. Geez, Mom. Do you have to be so awesome? Next time, I'm going to make a schedule full of crazy fun things to go out and do so that you won't just come in and clean my house. Also, I sure love you.

While she was here, she had a birthday (yay!) and also Mike had a birthday (yay!), so there was an abundance of cake. For Mom, I made vanilla-almond cupcakes with white chocolate frosting. They were like magic. I'ma have to make them again. For Mike, well, let's just say OMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOM. Grilled chicken with goat cheese and lemon butter sauce, mint moose tracks and caramel caribou ice cream, and angel food cake (which I make from scratch because baking is the one thing I know I can do right). Yeah, you're jealous. Now I have approximately four holidays' worth of decorations in my kitchen. I should probably take several of them down.

I just saved us hundreds of thousands of dollars with that present right there that he's holding.

In my effort to distract myself from my mom leaving, we got all crazy on the new healthy resolutions train. For example, Mike convinced me that Joshy's hair was getting a little gender-neutral. Heaven forbid his MAN child get confused with a girl.

The best part? Those faces they're making in the "after" picture is what they automatically do whenever I point the camera at them. Turns out that having a mom who frequently (some might venture to say "excessively") goes on picture-taking binges results in kids who know how to pose. Score one for the Mommy!

That night, after the kids were in bed, Mike and I had a goal-setting meeting (cue forboding music). The results? We're forcing ourselves into some new healthy-eating habits and some exercise, and we're continuing our 30 minutes a day scripture challenge, but we're starting the New Testament. (We just finished a Book of Mormon challenge where we read 10 pages a day, but I think 30 minutes will be better.) I'm totally jazzed about reading the New Testament (I haven't done it seriously since, like, college), but the whole diet and exercise thing is not making me a particularly happy mommy. We're even doing it right, with no extremes, and we're still allowed moderate treats and snacks (you know, the healthy kind). But I've been an emotional eater for a long time. And just two days of this is already making me into crazy diet impatient mom. This is bad.

But I know that in the long run, this will be better. We'll be happier, have more energy, and, eventually, I might have good self-esteem again. Who knows? In the mean time, here are some adorable pictures of my family.

Happy (maybe for real this time) Spring! I'll try to be better now that we're getting back into real life and a routine and all that jazz. And hopefully the sun will finally cooperate and melt the giant snowbanks that are still there even though it got up into the 50s last week. Maybe.