This seemingly sweet picture of a mother and darling little girl ripped a hole in my heart this weekend.

To the average eye this woman is smiling and enjoying a fun play date with her little girl.  To the other people enjoying this day at the trampoline park she is giggling going down the slide with her little girl.  She looks put together.  Every hair in place (albeit football helmet-esque in size and um... durability.) Her makeup is done.  She's overdressed for the trampoline park high heeled boots, jewelry and all.  She looks happy to the untrained eye.  I know this women well, however, and I can see the forced nature of this smile.  I can feel the crushing pain she is hiding behind the mask. 

She is there with her two beautiful little crazies.  And minus a little residual fullness in her cheeks, she bears no sign that just a few days ago she was 8 1/2 months pregnant.  And that is killing her. 

Oh how I want to scoop this baby version of myself up in my arms and tell her it's going to be ok.  She will be happy again.  The light will return and when it does she will emerge from her little survival cocoon transformed into a stronger, more resilient version of her former self.  A version that has come to know and love and trust her Savior a bazillion times more from having to clench onto His cloak for dear life. 

I want to tell her she is not alone.  He has been right there beside her all along.  He knew this was coming and prepared her for it.  He has felt the exact pain she is feeling, He understands.  He will never leave her alone.  He will send comfort when she needs it and lead her, in ways she'd never imagine, to others that will lift her up.  All those things will not always be obvious to her at the moment, but in retrospect will be glaringly obvious and beautiful.

I want to tell her she's doing an amazing job.  It's okay that she gets up and takes care of her babies on autopilot.  At least she got up!  It doesn't matter if anyone thinks she should mourn a daughter she didn't know.  They don't understand.  They aren't meant to, it's not their trial to endure.  And wishing her angel baby was here with her doesn't lessen her love for the sweet babies that she does have here with her.  She needs to give herself some time and grace.  She'll find the new normal.  And it will be happy.  So happy.

Life will be so so good.  It will also be so so hard at times.  She will face even harder challenges.  But the spiritual muscles she is building during this emotional weight lifting "class" will make those new challenges seem less.... challenging.  And her new perspective of eternity will make said challenges feel more worth conquering. 

Most of all, I want her to know:  someday, in the not so far off future, your smile will be real again.  You will feel peace.  You will feel joy.  And it will be so much richer having known the crushing pain.  And it will happen here, in this lifetime.  You won't have to wait until you have "gotten through" life. 

Hang in there, masked woman.  It will all be worth it.  You are stronger than you realize.

This perfect little hand.  Tiny little finger nails. Itty biddy knuckle dimples.  My Savannah.  She had her daddy's full lips and my round little pug nose.  She was perfect in every single way.  Except that her little heart was not beating.

I have contemplated my pregnancy with my angel babe.  I have a lot of regrets.  I was overwhelmed.  Hunter was barely 2 and Sami was 5 months old when the Lord whispered in our ear that it was time to add another to our little nest.  I let the overwhelm take over the only time I would have with her on earth.   I tried to argue with God to give us another year or so, but He prodded us to trust him.  He had a plan in mind.  So, full of lots of doubts, I acquiesced.  There were moments of excitement, but mostly I found myself focused on the anxiety of our pending "situation".  3 kids under 3 and a husband that travelled most weeks.  Everyone else was anxious for me as well, which added to the anxiety.

"Seriously, God?  Are you sure about this?  It really doesn't make sense.  We make adorable kids.  I'll add as many as you'll give us, but couldn't we have a breather in between?  Couldn't we have at least ONE of them potty trained first?  And do you really have this much confidence in my abilities, because... well... have you MET me?"  But the answer was always, "Yes.  It will be okay.  I will help you.  I have only the best things in mind for you."

I remember just days before Savannah was born.  Sami wasn't feeling well and I was up I the middle of the night with her.  I was trying to rock her in the rocking chair, but there wasn't much room left on my lap.  She was barely one, and still needed so much from me.  I looked over at the crib and imagined another tiny one needing me at the same time in the next few weeks and I silently cried.  "Heavenly Father, I'm really not sure I can do this.  Please help me."  " I will" was the simple answer I received.

Days later we would discover what Gods plan for our Savannah was.  She was never going to stay.  We were never going to juggle 3 kids under 3.  We would get to have her later, but now was not the time.  And I was devastated.

"Heavenly Father, are you sure about this?!  That is not what I meant when I asked you to help me.  I was stressed, but I always wanted her.  It would be crazy town for a while, but we can do it.  We WANT to do it.  Please don't take her."  Again the same answer, "It will be okay.  I will help you.  I have only the best things in  mind for you."

And He was right.  Time and time again in my life I have come upon situations that have not turned out the way I wanted them to.  Times that I think I know what is best and that I question the path the Lord suggests for me.  I have had so many times that I could not possibly see how something would work out "for my best" or how a heart break or stress or frustration would lead to my "best happiness".  But hind sight is always 20/20 and time and time again I have had it proven to me that every one of those "unfair" situations has led to something even better than I could have planned for myself.

You would think by now that I would have learned to trust Him.  But I guess it's human nature to think that we know better.  Because our brains work with limited human logic.  Gods works with eternal perspective.  It's hard to trust in that sometimes when we can't see it.   But not understanding something doesn't inherently make it untrue.  Just ask Christopher Columbus.

It has been 10 years since I held this perfect baby girl.  And there still has not been one single day that I have not thought about her.  It is not *usually* with tears anymore.  With His help, I have come to realize who she is.  A valiant daughter of God that was not meant to stay, that had a job to do on the other side.  A daughter that I want so much that I will take her however I can get her.  Even though that means that in order to come to me, I had to accept that my time with her would be delayed.  It's better than her going to someone else that could accept what her path is.  She has taught me so much about trusting in the Lord, even though I'm still not perfect at it.  And I have learned that He *eventually* DOES turn heartbreak into our best happiness.  Even if it doesn't feel like it in the thick of it.  Even if it's not on our time frame.  He has great things in mind for every. single. one of us.

Trust me.

Happy 10th birthday Savannah.  Your mommy loves you and has not forgotten you. <3 p="">

Are We There Yet?

 I have a confession: I am not a lover of winter.  That can be problematic, given that I live in Utah, and winter can last from October to May ( and sometimes June).  Don't get me wrong, snow is beautiful.  I love it when I can gaze at it from the comfort of my toasty warm kitchen with my nose pressed against the glass of my back door.  Hot chocolate.  There definitely has to be a steaming mug of hot chocolate {and mini marshmallows wouldn't hurt while we are at it} involved in this scenario for it to be acceptable in my book. But if I have to go ANYWHERE {and sometimes that means anywhere outside of the confines of my comforter} I curse it.  I don't love being cold.  I don't love wearing a thousand layers.  I don't love that my bff the sun hides behind dismal gray clouds.  Bring me HEAT.  Bring me frosty cold Dirty Diet Cokes.  Bring me COLOR.  Sometimes winter can seem interminable to me.  Seriously.  And it doesn't help that Mother Nature is rather bipolar where I live.  It can be 70 degrees one day and snow the next. 

I have another confession: this has been a rough winter emotionally for me.  Life is crazy and can have as many ups and downs as the emotional roller coaster-esque whims of Mother Nature in Utah in April.  I was contemplating said ups and downs this morning and I looked out my window and noticed something that I have looked at a thousand times in the last couple of days, but have not really SEEN til now.  We have these beautiful flowering trees in our backyard and a spectacular view of the Wasatch Mountains.  As I gazed out at this beautiful scene mother nature painted for me I noticed a funny juxtaposition.  Through the vibrant pink blossoms I could see snow capped mountains.  Spring is officially here, but apparently the mountains haven't gotten the memo yet.  It is still a cold and dreary day, but there the blossums are vibrant as ever as they blow in the wind.  It may not feel like it, but spring IS here.  And these gorgeous blossums reminded me that the warmth of summer is close ahead.  So now I have a choice to make.  I can focus on the startling fuscia reminder that dreary times will soon end.  Or I can curse the gray clouds that are here today, and try to melt the frigid snow on the mountain tops with my lazer beam stare of hatred. 

Life is like the seasons.  Certain seasons seem never ending.  Others seem to be over in the blink of an eye.  But they always have their turn in the cycle and then they end, leaving their mark and passing on the baton to the next one.  If we had eternal summer here in the desert of Utah we would not have the water that the snow pack provides for these beautiful flowers.  Our lakes would dry up.  We would not be able to water the golf course {and then my better half would be on suicide watch}. If we only had winter... well, do I even need to elaborate on that one?  My (oh so wise) 9 year old daughter told me today, "Mom, when it's super hot in the summer, I sometimes think I am ready for the snow.  And when it is super cold in the winter I think I am ready for the summer."  Whether you are Team Winter or Team Summer, they each make you appreciate the other.

So, for now, I guess I will hunker down for a few more weeks in my cacoon and dream of burning rays of sunshine beating down on me. 

This too shall pass.

Open the Shutters

One morning, after a long sleepless night, I looked toward my bedroom window.  My room was still quite dark, but I could see burning rays of orange and red trying to escape through the slats in the shutters.  I thought to myself, "Wow, it must be a beautiful sunrise out there."  And I laid there in bed watching these bright stripes grow brighter.  As I looked away I noticed the stark difference of the dark abyss of the far corner of my room that faces away from the slats in the window.  It reminded me of the darkness that had surrounded me the night before as I desperately tried to will my body to sleep.  I looked back at the window and noticed the red and orange getting more and more intense as the sunrise progressed towards its ultimate crescendo.  Something hit me really strong in that moment: no matter how much brighter and more intense those rays got, and how hard they fought to break into my room, they were extremely limited in the brightness they could add to my dark room- until I took some action.  Realizing this, I sprung from my bed and threw open the shutters.  I was figuratively thrown back by the intensity of the burst of light that instantly enveloped my room.  With the exception of the corners that stood out of reach and direction of the light, the darkness was immediately chased away.  For darkness cannot exist in the presence of light, it is immediately cast out.  However, as much as that light wanted to burst in and bathe me in its warmth, it was held back by the laws of physics.  It could not burst through the slats, I had to open them and move them out of the way.  Too many times in my life, I become complacent to lay there and just enjoy the little slivers of light that are lighting up my world, but if I would only get up and open the “shutters”  I would find so much more waiting for me on the other side. 

Matthew 11:28

“Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest.”  The word “rest” has come to have a whole new meaning for me.  I used to think of it as “a break” from my burdens.  He’ll give me “a rest”.  I think a deeper meaning has been hiding here for me to discover it.  I picture the Saviors open arms when I read this scripture and I picture an offering.  His offering.  He has given me so, so much to be grateful for.  But if I will come unto him, open up my shutters so to speak, He will give me “the rest” of all He has to offer.  That is what is waiting for us.  And it is so much more than we could ever imagine for ourselves.  

And that sunrise WAS even more spectacular that I had imagined from the confines of my comfortable bed. 

I’m so grateful for “the rest” that is available to me and my family. 

#30DaysOfGratitude

It's been a long time, I know. And if anyone is even reading this, this post does not mean that I am back full time. I have missed writing. I have REALLY missed writing. But life is crazy and I have an addictive personality...

Anyway, I felt like I should share a talk I gave in church this last December. It was the Sunday before Christmas. I was just a few days shy of giving birth to my sweet rainbow baby {aka... chubby chubberoo} . And the bishop {aka: hubby}, or rather the Lord requested I speak on this specific, tender subject. If anyone tells you it pays to have connections in the bishopbric they lied to you my friend... I'm just sayin...

Anyway, here it is.

2 ½ years ago my husband came to me and said, “I think we need to have another baby.” I just laughed at him. Why is that so funny? My baby, Samantha, was only 5 months old and Hunter had just turned 2. He insisted, “I know it seems crazy but I really feel strongly about this. Will you at least pray about it?” I said no. I didn’t need to. I knew what my answer would be… I also didn’t necessarily want the answer that I would receive… not just yet. But, when the Lord calls you answer and within weeks we were expecting our 3rd child. We found out a couple months later that another little girl was going to join our family and we decided to name her Savannah. A lot of people made sure tell us how crazy we were to have another child so soon... and I agreed. We would have 3 children under 3 all in diapers for several months. But I also knew that this was not just a spur of the moment decision we had made, we had been inspired that this was the right path for our little family. Or, rather, my husband had been inspired and I reluctantly agreed! The pregnancy went great, and I felt as good as a pregnant mother chasing two little rugrats around can feel. We looked forward to our due date of March 20 with excitement, but also a bit of anxiety. I knew that I had no idea what I was in for, and it scared me to death at times. But I always referred back to 1 Nephi 3:7 “I know that the Lord giveth no commandment to the children of men save he shall prepare a way for them to accomplish the thing which he has commanded them.” I knew it was true, and I knew that the Lord would provide a way for us to make it over the challenges that raising 3 tiny children would bring. On February 8, 2008 I was 8 1/2 months pregnant and we went in for a routine dr. appointment. We were hoping to be in and out quickly so that my husband could get on the road to a stake scout camp that had been planned for that weekend. Our world was rocked as the dr. told us, “I can’t find a heartbeat I’m so sorry, she’s not alive anymore.”

My husband didn’t go to scout camp that weekend.

The rest of that night was a bit of a whirlwind. Brett’s parents picked up our kids and we headed to the hospital to deliver our little girl. I actually felt really strong throughout the night. The spirit was very strong and confirmed to us that this was the Lords will and that everything would be okay. The nurses dressed her in a beautiful white dress and a tiny little bracelet and brought her to us to spend a little time with her. I felt okay. Then the moment came to hand her over for the last time. It was really hard to hand my baby off to a total stranger that wasn’t going to bring her back. For the first time that night I felt hopelessness. The man holding her looked into my eyes and told me, “I promise we’ll take good care of her.” And at that moment I heard another voice. Not with my ears, but deep within my heart. A voice that chased away all hopelessness and filled my entire body with warmth it said, “So will I.” The spirit spoke to me and I knew it was the words of our Savior talking directly to me.

I’m not an “important person”. I’m not an incredible above average person… although I allow and often ENCOURAGE my husband to tell me so anytime he feels so inclined…. BUT the Savior of the world spoke to me. He didn’t appear to me as he did to Joseph Smith. He didn’t raise my little girl from the dead as He did Lazarus. But he spoke peace to me. He knows me so well that he knew the 3 little words that would take away the pain that no one else in this world could. And He took time out of His busy schedule for one insignificant sheep.

Can any of us deny that being a mother involves sacrifice? The greatest story ever told begins with a humble 16 year old girl facing explaining to her fiancé that she has not committed adultery, but that the child she carries is the child of God conceived by the spirit. She travels a long distance “great with child", gives birth in filthy stable, and spends the next several years in hiding from people that want to kill her beloved child. Ultimately, she helplessly stands by her sons side as he suffers an unimaginable death.

Just like each of us, Mary faced many defining moments in her life. Moments when she could choose to go one way or another. She could choose to let events taking place make her bitter, or to make her stronger and bring her one step closer to the Lord. Losing a child was something I never imagined I could handle or bear, and it was certainly never something I thought the Lord would ask of me. But the moment came. And my husband and I had a decision to make. We could choose the path that this would set us on.

Joseph Smith taught the law of sacrifice in these words: “For a man to lay down his all, his character and reputation, his honor, and applause, his good name among men, his houses, his lands, his brothers and sisters, his wife and children and even his own life- counting all things but filth and dross for the excellency of the knowledge of Jesus Christ- requires more than mere belief or supposition that he is doing the will of God; but actual knowledge, realizing that, when these sufferings are ended, he will enter into eternal rest; and be a partaker of the glory of God.”

Bruce R. McConkie said, “Sacrifice pertains to mortality; in the eternal sense there is none. Sacrifice involves giving up the things of this world because of the promises of blessings to be gained in a better world. In the eternal perspective there is no sacrifice in giving up all things- even including the laying down of ones life- if eternal life is gained through such a course.”

Did things go the way I wanted them for my daughter? No. Just as I was accepting the call to add her to our family and getting excited about it she was “taken”. But I wouldn’t trade the experience for the world. I know she’s mine eternally and I just have to wait. And when making the decision to add another child to our family I resolved that I would not do it until I could honestly tell the Lord that I would accept whatever plan he has for her as well. So far so good as far as getting “my way” with this new baby. However, being a mom sometimes means taking on the challenges without the guarantee of earthly rewards. But we all know the eternal rewards far outweigh the earthly ones.

I know that the Atonement of Jesus Christ is a personal one. I know that He didn’t just take on the sins and sufferings of the world… but for each individual person that has ever and will ever live in this world. I know that He speaks the truth when he promises us all that He has. That everything we experience in this life, the sacrifices and the joys, are leading up to something infinitely bigger.

PRAY FOR KIM!

This is my friend Kim and her cute little family.

Kim is a young, fun, amazing mother and friend.

Kim found out today that she has a tennis ball sized tumor in her brain.

She will go in for brain surgery tomorrow. They won't know until they get "in there" how deep it is or if it is malignant.

Kim needs your prayers!

Anyone willing is invited to participate in a fast for Kim Truman tomorrow. Please pray for her that all goes well so she can enjoy a long life with her cute little family.

PASS IT ON!

SPEED DEMON

Haha... so true.

Don't get in my way on the road.

I'm in a hurry.

I have important places to be.

I'm a Dale Jr. reincarnate.

I..... drive a mini van.

...and I have precious cargo buckled in the back seat...

...IIII'm..okay... a speed demon at heart. You're probably looking at ME in your rear view, and I'm probably sucking in the fumes of your exhaust pipe wishing I could will my Honda Odessey to fly past your.... Honda Pilot...? Seriously is anyone reading this driving anything other than a "family sensible car"... is anyone reading this at all anymore since I've been slacking in my obsessive blogging habits...

But at the risk of sounding cliche'... don't you love sentences that start that way? ...neither do i. Take another look at the words on that rear view mirror. I'm not winning any races on the road (much to the annoyance of every man on the road that is horrified that I'm not driving 100 in the slow lane of the freeway..... them and every Honda Pilot driver... thems crazy people)

But I'm winning another race.

My opponent- Grief.

Grief puts up a good fight. He is fast. He is clever. He is a he because he knows how to push my buttons.

But I am faster. And now he is in the rear view sucking in all the fumes from my exhaust pipe.

I don't drive a mazzarati. I didn't need anything fancier than my Honda Oddesey. You see, grief, while very persistent, can be be outrun. If you take even one small pit stop, he will catch you again. If you look back for too long you lose momentum and he's right on top of you. But if you focus forward and just keep driving you can beat him.

You will never completely lose him. If you look in your rear view, he will always be there waiting for you to give him a chance to overtake you again.

However, if you just keep moving forward, objects in the rear view DO seem smaller than they actually are, and DO appear to be losing.

ps... Honda Pilot drivers aren't that bad...I just long to be one of them.

...I did hear that they have a supressed fear of killer trout, however... and that's a little silly...

Have you ever had a best friend? Someone that is there for you through the good, bad and uuuugly? Someone that you love with all your heart and without whom you may just cease to exist? And have you ever had that perfect, sent from above, friendship tainted when she marries a total jerk? Seriously why do seemingly perfect girls pick loser partners? I know everyone should get to choose who they spend the rest of their life with, but come on... aren't they thinking of their better half? The half that had them first before jerk face stepped into the picture?

I am sorry to report that this was the fate of the glorious relationship I had with my BFF of 18+ years.

We were the BEST of friends. She was there for me during the awkward, gangly "still wearing my pink plastic glasses from 4th grade even though I was in 9th grade" days. She never left my side on the nights I sat at home when everyone else got asked to the dance and I was overlooked. She was there to celebrate with me the day I FINALLY got my period and entered womanhood a million years after everyone else.

She was my best friend.

And she was/is beautiful.

Let me introduce you to her.

Isn't she gorgeous?

For those of you out there that are saying to yourself, "Wait a minute! I thought I was your best friend!"... ummmm do you know me? Because anyone that truly knew me would know of my love for this bosom buddy of mine and would not be threatened by it, but would instead embrace it.... and in doing so fall in love themselves and fight me for a piece of her affection.

Here is the jerk she married. I hate him with every fiber of my being.His name is Thunder Thighs. He showed up in our life right around the time I graduated high school and he has been the constant companion to my beloved icecream ever since. I used to have her all to myself, without her wretched Thunder Thighs companion.

She is still there for me and she always will be. And don't get me wrong, I still revel in her companionship and find comfort in her embrace... but it will never be the same. She still shows up to keep me company when Hubs is out of town... but Thunder Thighs is always tagging along after her.

Curse him!

I've tried every trick in the world to get rid of him... now there's only one thing left to do...

I'm going to start seeing this guy on the side in the hopes that he chases Thunder Thighs away...

I don't like him much more than I like Thunder Thighs... but it's worth it to get my best friend all to myself again!

A Day of Reflection

Today is the one year anniversary of the birth of our angel baby, Savannah.

Do you think anniversaries are a funny concept?

Let me elaborate

A marriage anniversary is a day that you celebrate your marriage to your sweet heart. A birthday is an anniversary of someones birth where you spend the day celebrating that person. If we're continuing on with that same pattern I guess an angel anniversary is a day to celebrate someone that has moved on to the other side.

I had a friend once tell me she hated mothers day. "Don't do nice things for me one day a year just because you are supposed to" she would say, "show me you love me all year because you do!"

Good point.

Although I must admit I DO love birthdays, anniversaries, mothers day etc... any day really that provides and excuse for a celebration.. especially if said celebration involves icecream or chocolate covered strawberries.. anything edible really.

But we should probably celebrate life and those that we love all throughout the year.

I though this day might feel a little different, but to be honest it doesn't. I played Candy Land with my kids this morning. I dropped Mister Mischief off at preschool and Miss Thang and I headed to the gym. My mother in law and sisters in law came over for lunch. We ate, chatted, had fun as usual. I gave in and ate that cinnamon roll I swore I wasn't going to touch.

I thought I might feel the need to do something out of the ordinary, but I didn't. I thought maybe bad memories would come flooding back, but they didn't. I feel fine and I feel happy, because I have a really good life! I can honestly say that I am finally to the point that life feels normal again. I thought I would forever have this little cloud of "dead baby gloom" hovering over my head. I thought that from here on out the birth of my angel baby would define me. I thought I could never be like other people because my baby died. But the truth is, I can, because I have chosen to be.

I am forever changed, and for the better. I have learned more from this one gift from God than from a lifetime of good and bad decisions I have made for myself. I wouldn't change this experience for the world. There have been up times and down times, BUT I can say that the sadness is not hanging over me anymore. This was always the plan for our little family and I can finally say that I accept that and am moving forward. And it feels good.

But to make this not just a meaningless day I would like to share a few things I've learned from this experience. After all, it would be a wasted experience if I didn't make sure something good came of it.

1. You are much stronger than you think you are. God trusts you so trust yourself. Give yourself some credit.

2. "Man is that he might have joy" This whole journey through life is leading up to the ultimate goal of eternal happiness. We are to learn everything we need to learn to be happier than we can ever imagine. Can you really expect to find eternal happiness if all you do is chase after sadness? Eventually you end up with what you catch, and what you catch is what you were chasing after. Hard things happen in life, but there is still joy to be found in life... happening RIGHT NOW. Don't miss it. I can promise you that those things that are causing you heart ache in the first place will end up enriching your happiness in one way or another in the long run anyway.

3.You have to let yourself grieve, but you also have to let yourself be happy. Grieving is part of the healing process, but so is happiness. You cannot say that you are completely healed if you are not happy yet. But happiness comes from within. It comes from having trust in the Lord and faith in yourself. No one else can make you be happy. That is your own decision. Give yourself time to mourn. But when you feel like you are ready to let go of the agonizing grief let go completely. Don't look back. Rehashing painful memories only brings sadness and Satan will pray on you and use it to bring you down. It is okay to look back on the positive, beautiful things that have come from an experience, but allowing yourself to relive the pain over and over again does nothing good.

3. Helping others is the best way to heal. I used to think this meant being sad with others, but I'm realizing now that even better that that is to share with others how I found happiness again and what helped me in my healing process. Pain is comfortable sometimes, but doesn't heal your heart and bring you true happiness.

4. Other people will never truly understand. And that is okay. We all have different journies in life. I used to get so frustrated when others didn't understand my heart ache at losing a child I never knew. But that is not their lot in life. They have other challenges to face and other opportunities for learning. I will not understand some of the trials they face. You have to be okay with yourself. You have to really involve the Lord and decide what is the best path for you to take, without worrying what other people think. And you just can't judge other people for not reading your mind. At the same time I really try to keep this in mind when I do come across someone that I do not understand and try to think about how I wanted to be treated when I was misunderstood.

4. Any experience is a wasted experience if you don't use it to better your life and the lives of those around you. Good or bad. Be proactive. You can't always choose what happens to you in life, but you do get to choose what you do with it and if it impacts you for the good or bad. This is a hard one to accept at times, but it is absolutely true.


5. LOOK for opportunities to learn and feel blessed. This is great for any time in life, but especially during times when you are struggling to feel happy. The Lord has a way of jam packing a billion tiny little lessons into each experience we have in life. We just tend to analize the drastic ones more than the every day ones. We become much more effective in life when we use these to our advantage and also to the advantage of those around us. Life can be so much richer than just a three hour long shopping trip of terror with two screaming toddlers and someone that just happened to smiled at you with an understanding smile. It just depends on what you choose to focus on.

These are just a few things I've learned.

What would YOU add to the list?

Happy Easter...?

Anyone want to take a guess as to what my lesson to my 5 year old Sunday School class was about.

If you guessed Christmas you would be rrrrr...wrong. The lesson was on why we celebrate Easter. That seemed odd to me. I looked ahead in the manual and the next lesson is Christmas. Truth be told I think we may be a week off of where we are supposed to be, but I'm not sure... I just got this calling a couple weeks ago.

Anyway, the kids were all abuzz literally bouncing off the walls with excitement for Christmas in a couple of days. Can you imagine the puzzled look on their little faces when I told them we are going to talk about Easter? One little girl raised her hand and said, "Um... I think you mean CHRISTMAS." So, my challenge was to tie Easter in to Christmas, because they just weren't going to let me get away with talking about Easter when Christmas is just a couple days away (even Walmart waits until AT LEAST January to stock up with Cadbury eggs... definitely NOT complaining about that one.)

But as I thought about it I realized that Easter is really the core reason that we celebrate Christmas. I personally think that the rest of the world should celebrate my day of birth (April 3, in case you were wondering, and Cadbury eggs make GREAT gifts.) but what have I done to deserve having the rest of the world join together to celebrate me making my arrival into the world. So that is what I explained to my class and later to my 3 year old (and possibly my almost 2 year old by osmosis). We celebrate Christmas because we are happy that Jesus Christ was born. On someones birthday we give them gifts to show that we are happy that they were born and that we love him. We give gifts to each other on Christmas because he is not here to hand a package but it makes him happy to see up happy. We are kinder to each other, we do nice things for each other, we are just slightly better people this time of year as our gift to the Savior to tell him that we are happy that He was born. But he deserves all of these things because of what we celebrate at Easter.


Because He was born we were given a Savior. Because he was born and spent the last few years of His life minister to the people and teaching the Plan of Salvation we have a road map of how to live our lives and return to our Heavenly Father. Because he was born and eventually died for us all of that is possible. Because he died for us we will live again.

So I say Happy Birthday to our Savior (even though he technically wasn't born on December 25) we love you and are so happy that you were born, and so grateful that you were willing to sacrifice you own life that we may live again. You deserve a day dedicated to you no matter what the rest of the world says.

Silent Night, Holy Night

My friend, H, had a link to this story on her blog, and it touched my heart. Okay.. it made me blubber like a pregnant woman (which I am not) or baby (which is arguable).

By Glenn Register

As I stood in front of the tiny bassient in the quiet room of the preemie ICU, the day finally caught up with me and I was unable to sing another word. It was as if the sight of that tiny girl, six months old and barely over six pounds in weight, opened the floodgates of my emotions, and the events of the last several hours came crashing down on me.

I had arrived at the hospital in the early afternoon, led there by that undeniable whisper that we often feel in life. This time the message was simple: Go sing at the hospital. I went. After wandering around for at least half an hour arguing with myself, I told myself that I was going to either go home or start singing. I flipped a mental coin and entered the first room of the day. "Would you like a Christmas song?" I asked, in a voice that sounded a lot more confident than I felt at the moment. "I'd love a song!" was the enthusiastic reply. I sang. Guitar slung over my shoulder, I sang and sang. I sang for the sick, the dying, and, in once instance, in a double occupancy room, I sang to a sick fellow and his "recently deceased" roommate. I soon gained confidence, and, as the afternoon slid into evening, I felt invincible, able to walk through a brick wall if occasion required.

Somehow through all of this I was able to retain just enough distance to continue functioning. I remember the beautiful young lady in the pediatric unit, all of fourteen or fifteen, who began sobbing quietly during the song Silent Night. I had raised an eyebrow at her mother who was sitting nearby; she nodded and I continued, watching as this young girl's shining black hair shimmered with the shaking of her shoulders. An elderly woman, full of gratitude and leaking tears at an alarming rate, thanked me again and again. I began to see, as the day progressed, that I was the recipient of the greater blessing, as time after time, I felt of greatness and witnessed courage up close and magnificent. Confined by circumstances beyond their control, sequestered away from holiday lights, parties and the warmth of home and hearth, not one of them offered a single word of complaint. On the contrary, one elderly lady expressed her thankfulness at being in the hospital and receiving such good care. In a way inexplicable my own courage began to grow and I saw my life as never before, and my challenges shrank to a pitiful size as I drank in their collective courage and goodwill.

This feeling of invincibility remained with me until, as I mentioned earlier, I stood before the bassient of that tiny baby girl. That "stainless steel" feeling evaporated and I became my old goofball self, full of weakness and inability; Joe Normal. Gone were the huge sword swinging shoulders, lost was the ability to lead men into battle, forgotten was the clarion call of superior deeds. I was returned with a a nearly audible thump to my old self. With one notable exception; For as I stood there tears on my everyday face, I felt as never before of the wonder and glory of The Christ Child, born in poverty, laid, not in the antiseptic cleanliness of a modern hospital, but in the filth and grime of a barn, "wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger." And I saw, for a brief moment, of the greatness of the Savior of mankind, and what His life had brought to me and mine, and what it would yet bring.

After a minute or two of fiddling around on the guitar waiting for my voice to return, I was able, after a fashion, to continue the song, Away in a Manger, then on to Silent Night. Somewhere during that second song I "connected" with that infant girl and it was as if we sang together in praise of the Babe of Bethlehem. I will never forget her or the gift she helped me receive, there in the back room of the hospital, away from the pomp and ceremony that has all but swallowed the Christmas season.

I think of her quite often, and more especially when the holidays approach, for that was to be her only Christmas Eve. I believe that I will see her again when my time here on earth is done. I'm a little sketchy on the details but I think we will meet in that other realm. I certainly hope so, for I have things to tell her, things of the heart, Like what an honor it was to sing for her, Like how much more Christmas means to me now, because of her, Like just how much I would love to sing with her again, just one last song, just like before.


Silent Night, Holy Night

Merry Christmas everyone. May we all remember the babe wrapped in rags and lain in a humble feeding trough who gave his life that we may have life eternal.

Come What May... And Love It!

I love this talk that Joseph B. Worthlin gave in October Conference this year. I think he may have written his own tribute to what an amazing man he is. He will be missed! In the words of President Thomas S. Monson (at Elder Worthlins funeral today): "We will miss you Joseph. We will miss you until we see you again tomorrow!"

http://lds.org/ldsorg/v/index.jsp?vgnextoid=2354fccf2b7db010VgnVCM1000004d82620aRCRD&locale=0&sourceId=b5f44bb52a73d110VgnVCM100000176f620a____&hideNav=1

Everyone should own this book...

via videosift.com

What do you think?!

Oh Happy Day!

I would like to wish everyone a happy national doughnut day!!!

What a glorious holiday and what a glorious country we live in that will dedicate one special day to one of my favorite glutonous dreams of deep fat fried bread smothered in a robe of creamy chocolate frosting.... mmmm... doughnuts...

I have found that an astonishing number of people do not know about this day of artery clogging seduction so let me fill you in on the origins of this wonderful day...

National Doughnut Day honors the Salvation Army "Lassies" of WWI. It is also used as a fund raiser for needy causes of the Salvation Army.
The original Salvation Army Doughnut was first served by Salvation Army in 1917. During WWI, Salvation Army "lassies" were sent to the front lines of Europe. These brave volunteers made home cooked foods, and provided a moral boost to the troops. Often, the doughnuts were cooked in oil inside the of the metal helmet of an American soldier. The American infantrymen were commonly called doughboys. Salvation Army lassies were the only women outside of military personnel allowed to visit the front lines. Lt. Colonel Helen Purviance is considered the Salvation Army's "first doughnut girl".

Can it get better than this?! There is a good cause to back up the need to stuff our faces full of heaven!

What? You say National Doughnut day actually takes place on the first Friday in June?

You're right.

But Walmart starts the Christmas season earlier every year in order to commercialize on our holiday spirits.... (in fact the day after Halloween they were playing Christmas music!) I just figured Krispy Kreme deserved a peice of the consumer $$$ pie... don't you think?!

Start buying your doughnuts today. Lets make National Doughnut day last all year so that Krispy Kremes pockets can be as deep as Walmarts! :)

ps... I must admit, I was singing along to the songs in DEFINITE Christmas spirits and was ALMOST tempted to empty out my bank account on a basketfull of trendy toys that my kids will either break or forget about an hour after opening them. Soooo close Walmart!

Is anyone else annoyed that Thanksgiving gets skipped every year at the stores in order to capitolize on the birthday of our Savior?

ps.... CONGRATULATIONS to "Eatin' and Paintin' with Her Buisiness" you are the winner of this months shutterbug contest! I will get your prize to you asap Q! Thanks to everyone for voting!

And the Nominess Are...

I am so glad to know that I'm not the only mommy whos first reaction is the grab the camera... and who finds humor in "unconventional" situations...

I present to you the nominees for

"Funniest/Most Unconventional Shutterbug Moment"

Please place your vote in the comments section.

btw... anything goes... feel free to enlist the help of your friends in helping your favorite pic win!!!

Climbin' naked...

Catch that cute crying face...

Her face when you whisper "bo0"

Jumpin' naked

Doin' His Business..

Holdin' her business...

Eatin'/paintin' with her business...

Diaper flung in the corner sleepin' in a puddle of pee pee...

Christmas Card Gone Bad...

You can see my eyes "mamas"!
Thanks to everyone that sent in their funny pictures!

Good Luck!

We Need YOU!

Have you sent in your funny kid picture yet?!

We have some great entries so far, but we need MORE!

Tomorrow morning is the deadline!

Contest Time!!!

This is my little man. Dead alseep. Snoring in fact... in spite of my not very muffled snickers as I am trying to sneak a picture of his entertaining although precarious sleeping position.

I am a very mean mommy. I have trained my children to nap for 3 glorious hours every day. I need that time. I would get nothing done if not for that time.

That said, I strategically transitioned Mister Mischief into his "big boy" bed when he was 18 months old because he could not yet open doors.... (the fact that little miss was on her way and I needed the crib may have come into play too) (also I am a big fan of prison cells...?). The excitement of this new found freedom was just too much for my little man and as soon as his cell door was closed he lept from his bed into the waiting arms of his ridiculously packed closet of toys. That was fine with me. As long as he was in his room and I was free to eat my bon bons and watch my soap (because that's all stay at home moms do riiight?) I didn't care what he did in there.

Inevitably he would play and play and play until his little body just couldn't go any farther and he would doze off right where he was. I would go in and check on him about 20 or so min. after I put him down. Pick him up from the pile of toys he succomed to sleep in, and place him in bed for the rest of nap time.

Well, on the same note of Oscar winning parenthood, I walked in one afternoon and found him in the above spine crushing position. What do I do...? Rush up and scoop my child up immediately saving him from a killer crik in his neck? Absolutely...right after I snapped a picture.

Okay, I'm not meaning to rehash my last post. I have a point. I have had so many people approach me after yesterdays post about funny pictures they have taken of their kids and their own Parent of the Year moments caught on film... and they are SO MUCH FUNNIER than any of mine.

So...

How about a little contest. Please send me your funniest mommy shutterbug moment caught on film! Send it to: mommymustconfess@gmail.com by Friday morning. Friday afternoon I will post them all and YOU all will cast your votes in the post section over the weekend. Tuesday afternoon I will announce the winner. What is a contest without a prize?! First place will win a mind blowing (within the parameters of my little budget) prize PLUS a Mommy Shutterbug Contest widget to put on your blog... what is the point of winning if you can't boast about it right?!

What are you waiting for?! Get on it!

PS... thank you ahead of time for providing my Friday post for me...

Shutterbug...

Have you ever noticed that we as mothers sometimes choose totally inappropriate moments as our perfect "Kodak moments"?
Let me illustrate my point...

Mister Mischiefs first shots...

"Oooohhhh how cute, he's sobbing in excruciating pain from the giant needle that was just shoved in his tiny little leg... grab the camera!

Abandoned on the grass...

"How funny, your kid is scared of the grass"... mommy will save him but... let me take a picture first!

Eating Dirt...

"Ummm... your kid just ate playground dirt that may or may not be infested with some nasty flesh eating bacteria..."

"Click Click... don't want to forget this moment..."

Are these really precious moments that we won't want to forget down the road, or more ammo for our kids to use on when they are teenagers to prove that we don't love them and that we better undo the intense personal damage by buying them that new car...

I still think they are cute... am I a bad mom?!

My Boy is Secure in His Manhood

Mister Mischief: Mom, how come my sister is wearing that bow (that's what he calls Miss Thang these days.)

Mommy: Girls wear them so they can be pretty.

MM: But boys don't?

Mommy: No, boys don't want to be pretty, boys want to be cool. You want to be cool don't you?

MM: Yeah.... but sometimes I dont' want to be cool. Sometimes I just want to be pretty so I can wear a bow too.

ummmm... should I be worried?

My boy is most DEFINTELY all boy. He likes to rough and tumble and play every sort of sport imaginable. So lets test out his theory... can a boy wear a bow and still be manly...

playing in the dirt..

riding his Harley bike...

tramping through the woods in search of bugs...

fishing...

hitting on girls...

You're right bud... you can pull anything off...

Live Strong

This is my tired little man. He is one of my biggest joys in life. He can at times also be my biggest challenge in life.


Today he was my teacher.


Today was a beautiful, crisp autumn morning. Mister Mischief was going a little bonkers being caged up inside with such a sunshine filled day waiting for him outside. We decided to go to the park.

Little mister decided he MUST ride his "mogocycler" bike.... alll... the way... to the park...

This could be bad.

Normally I would strap him in the double wide (stroller that is) and I'd cart the kiddies down to the park since I know how exhausting a day a the park can be for the little rascals.

We usually spend the whole ride home in melt down mode.

But my little man was very insistant that he could do it. He IS a big boy after all. And someone could steal his bike while we are gone (HIS reasoning... not mine).

So away we went to the park. The ride there was great! I was very impressed with my little mans endurance and began imagining the pride of the mother of a Tour de France champion... Lance Armstrong eat your heart out!

The way home, as I'm sure you can imagine, was a different story. He was going strong for the first couple of minutes as we chatted about the important upcoming decision between hot dogs or mac 'n cheese for lunch. But I noticed my little man started lagging behind. I kept talking and it seemed to keep him going but evenually I looked back and saw that he had stopped. He was exhausted and there was not way he could go a step farther.


"I want you to carry my bike!" he declared.

I gave him that "try again" mommy look and he restated:

"Mommy, will you please carry my bike for me? I can't do it anymore."

I see a teaching moment... or maybe I'm just lazy, one can't be sure.

I said, "Sure bud, I will carry your bike home for you, but you need to bring it the rest of the way to me."

I know this sounds mean, but I knew he could do it. It wasn't very far, a couple feet maybe, but I wanted him to push himself a little further before accepting help. I also knew how proud he would be when he saw that he DID do it.

Then it dawned on me, our Father in Heaven says this to me all the time.

Me: Father, I just can't go any farther. PLEASE help me (I asked nicely)

Father: I will help you, but you can go just a little bit farther on your own. I know you can do it, but I want you to know you can do it too.

Me: OH MAN...

But without fail He is right every time. You see, I don't believe that the Lord ever abandons us in our hour of need. You know the moment when the road seems soooo long and you just don't have the strength to go even one step farther. He just has more faith in us than we do ourselves and He lets us take just a couple more steps on our own to prove that faith to US. And when it does get to the point that we really CAN'T do it on our own anymore He scoops up our bike and carries it in one hand while pushing an awkward, non-cooperating double wide stroller with the other hand... all the way home. Or until we decide we're ready to get back on our bike and try it again...

Once Little Mister rested and gathered a little strength he was fine and made it the rest of the ride home. This time instead of looking ahead and how far we still had to go we pointed out all the cool stuff along the way: a dog barking in the distance, a big rock in the middle of the sidewalk and a great big juicy bug hanging out on a leaf. Time flew by much faster this way.

So, the point to all my rambling is this: God does not forget about us. He just has a lot of faith in us. And those last few feet that He wants us to go before He scoops us up goes MUCH faster if we:

Thanks Air for starting my day with that awesome quote.

I needed to remember that today!