Things I Want To Teach My Kids {Part II} by Bloom Guest Steph

A few months ago we introduced you to Steph of Modern Parents Messy Kids and shared the first half of a list of things she wants to teach her kids. Today we're sharing the second half of that list. Check it out and tell us what you're trying to teach your kids...

7. All Feelings Are OK
Have you heard of emotional coaching? It’s basically a parenting style that focuses on teaching children how to recognize and express their feelings. When I was a young child, I was very shy and fearful. To this day I’m not really sure why (my family was very supportive, open, and loving) but I do know that I want to do everything I can to prevent my own kids from feeling that way.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to change anyone’s personality or create super outgoing kids. It’s only been in the last 10 years or so that I’ve really come out of my own shell so if my kids turn out to be introverts, that’s fine by me. I just want to make sure they’re not missing out on life experiences due to fear.
A few months ago we introduced you to Steph of Modern Parents Messy Kids and shared the first half of a list of things she wants to teach her kids. Today we're sharing the second half of that list. Check it out and tell us what you're trying to teach your kids...

We’ve been weaving emotional coaching into our everyday life for the past year or so now and are pretty amazed by the results. Our 2 year old regularly identifies himself as being happy, sad, mad, and scared. Having this awareness seems to help him work through new and scary situations as well as tantrums. You can find out more about emotional coaching here.

8. I’m Worthy of Their Trust
From stranger danger and bullying to drugs and sex - I can think of about a million reasons I want my kids to trust me enough to talk to me. For me, building that trust now is about always doing my best to be as truthful as possible. Of course there are a lot of topics that I don’t particularly want to talk at length about with my 1 and 2 year olds. But if they ask me about something I try to answer them simply and directly (and then move on if it’s something I really don’t want to talk about yet!).

I also try really hard not to lie to them about the little things. It’s often tempting to head off an impending tantrum with a seemingly innocent lie, “We can’t get ice cream because the store’s closed”. The problem is kids catch on quick. If you get in the habit of fibbing to make things a little easier not only will the kids know, they’ll have less trust in you and what you say.

9. Mistakes are OK
This one goes back to my childhood again. As a shy kid I was always mortified when I messed up. I actually have a vivid memory of hiding under my covers as a preschooler after breaking a glass bowl I was using as a drum. When my parents found me they laughed but for some reason I was convinced I’d be in big trouble.

To teach my own kids that mistakes are OK, I make sure to let them know whenever I make one. It seems like several times a week I’ll spill something or forget something in front of them. When I do I always say something like, “Uh oh, Mommy spilled. Oh well, everybody makes mistakes”. This shows them that mistakes are just a part of life and they don’t have to be scared or embarrassed about messing up.

10. If at First You Don’t Succeed...
This goes hand in had with “mistakes are OK”. Giving your child permission to make mistakes gives them the confidence to keep trying when they’re confronted with adversity. Not everything in life is going to be easy. It’s our job as parents to let kids know that success isn’t about being perfect, it’s about continuing to try. (Side Note: For some excellent reading on this topic see the chapter “The Inverse Power of Praise” from the book Nurture Shock).

11. Saying No is OK
Last year my son’s toddler group hosted an excellent speaker on family safety, specifically protecting children from predators. Along with the usual tips about stranger danger, she also emphasized the importance of allowing children to say no. This applies to everyday situations as well as immanent danger.

She talked about teaching kids that they don’t always have to be polite. They don’t have to give hugs and kisses to anyone they don’t want to (family included) and they can always say no if an adult makes them feel uncomfortable. Her message of teaching kids to trust their gut, even at a very early age, really resonated with me.

In addition to being able to say no for safety, I also want to teach my kids not to be pleasers in general. As adults, we all know people like this. They regularly bend over backwards and over-commit themselves because they hate to disappoint. In reality we can’t do everything for everyone or even be friends with everyone. Somehow (and I’m not quite sure how) I want to show my kids that life is shaped by the people and activities you fill it with. It’s your responsibility to make sure you fill it up with positive and reciprocal relationships.

12. To Be Kind
This, of course, is the flip side of saying no. In a society where high self-esteem is regarded above all else, basic kindness can sometimes get overlooked. This one is all about walking the walk. You can tell your kids to be nice all day long but they’ll truly get the message when they see how you interact with people throughout your day together. Be courteous and friendly towards friends, neighbors, family, waiters, sales clerks, baristas, and families at the park. Smile and say “hi”, open doors for people, and let cars in your lane. Your kids will see your example as well as the positive reactions you get in return.

Learning from regret

A lot of people say "No regrets!" like they really have no regrets in their life.

I just don't understand that.

Because I have regrets. Boy howdy, do I!

One of my biggest regrets is not getting it with my first baby.

I didn't get how fast he would grow. I didn't get how fleeting that time was. I didn't get how perfect he was. I didn't get how lucky I was.

I liked being a mom well enough and I knew it was important, but I didn't really get it.

With my second I started to get it more.

I enjoyed it more, I reveled longer. It began to define me.


Lately I like to sit in my chair of many colors to nurse Jared Carter. When he's sufficiently drunken with goodness, I put my feet up on my ottoman and sit him up to pat some burps out. I want to sit their all day. I want to squish his cheeks and make him smile. I want to make faces at him so he'll raise his expressive eyebrows at me. I want to tickle right between his ribs and his armpits to make him giggle uncontrollably. I want to pinch his fat tummy and poke at his cavernous belly button. And I want to kiss his neck 9 million times.

I could let the dishes pile up for weeks and let the big boys get muddy outside to their hearts' delight just to sit in that chair and love my squishy babe.

And I'll tell you what.

I would give anything to do the same with baby Blaine. It pains me to the core that I missed that with him.

I envy my friends who got it with their first.

I know it's all about hindsight and there's no point in dwelling on the past and I just need to love him now. But it still makes me sad.

'Cause this is the best.

Perspective

Ahhh, Monday, Monday. Raise your hand if you're sick of the Chicken Dinner post that was up all weekend (+ a day)...sorry 'bout that. We had so much going on last week and through the weekend. Did you know that Anne and I are sort of related? We married cousins (who may as well be siblings), so quite often when one of us has a family gathering, the other is involved -- and such was the case this weekend. We ran from one outing to the next. And Anne baked a zillion cupcakes in between. You should have seen/tasted them -- A-mazing! Anne took lots of great pictures (I took none), so I'll let her tell you about the wedding and recount whatever details she desires, whenever she desires to recount them.

And in the mean time, I will tell you that my baby turned three this weekend. And I love her so bad. We've been hoping for another little one for over a year now. And that hurts sometimes and makes us sad now and then and fills us with questions. But as with so many hard things, there is a silver lining; the longing for another child also makes us focus in on the two that we already have and realize how absolutely precious and miraculous they are. My arms ache to feel the weight of a baby, but my hands are so blessed to touch and serve and care for the two I already have.

Today I snuggled up with Lily and told her about the pocket of time surrounding her birth - how Nana came and how we were soooo excited, and how Henry was just about her size. Nate and I shook our heads at the fact that three whole years have passed -- it's gone by so fast, and yet we can barely remember what life felt like before Lily.

As I watched her show us her age with "olive-fingers," and eat her dinner on the special red plate, and open the darling present her brother put together for her (cutest part: a sandwich baggie full of loose change he'd gathered up around the house), and blow out the candle on her birthday brownie, I thought about the huge part of my heart that beats just for Lily and wondered what it was doing before she joined us.

In My Heart

the little lady running at the all-comers track meet
and little Pierre, I mean Henry, all bundled up to take the recycling out in the rain

I go back and forth about how to blog (and sometimes about whether to blog at all). Sometimes I feel too guarded and private to share much of anything personal. Other times I feel like, "what's the point of sharing if it's not personal?"

Tonight I am feeling introspective.

Among other things, I am thinking about how absolutely precious my time with my children is. Having said that, I worry that you might get the wrong idea about my life as a mom - let me assure you, it is riddled with all the same kinds of frustrations that your mothering is filled with. My days with my children are not free of strife or conflict. We have plenty of both. This morning Henry unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper to use the brown paper tube as a pirate scope and then ate a bowl of greasy noodles on the living room floor and left a trail of pasta shards and basil leaves on the carpet. Lily was extraordinarily uncooperative. And I was magnificently cross and condescending about all of it.

By noon my heart was heavy with sorrow and remorse. But we had company and plans and more company and more plans and I never really found a quiet moment to apologize for my impatience.

We were out late this evening visiting with family and didn't get home until after ten o'clock. When we got home both kids were tired, but still sweet. We brushed teeth and prayed and then, even though it was nearly eleven o'clock, I made both of them crawl up on the bed and snuggle with me. I needed to rub their skin and smell them and kiss them and tell them all the things I love about them. I needed to apologize for getting so upset about the toilet paper and the pasta. Sweet Henry looked up at me and said, "Wait...did that happen this morning? It feels like that was a couple days ago! This day was long!"

Some days are long, but time is racing. The phases are fleeting. It's only legos and backyard sleep-outs and princess slippers for so long. It hurts somewhere deep to think about this phase coming to an end. I know there will be joy in the next phases. Of course there will be. But this, what we have right here, now, is so full of wonder and creativity and discovery and joy and a hundred more shiny, good things. Sometimes I feel like no matter how present I try to be, I can never soak it up good enough. No matter how purposefully I try to live in these moments I will still reach back after them nostalgically when they're gone.

The road trip re-cap

We welcomed July and celebrated our nation's independence with my whole ginormous family at Yellowstone Park. It was no small fete, considering we are two and a half dozen people and some of us hail from Chile!

There is nothing like the grandeur and majesty of the American West, and Yellowstone is the ultimate. It was a week of adventuring and swimming, laughing and snacking, story telling and loving. {For my poor mother I think it was mostly a week of worriedly counting heads, but we all survived!}

I'm a huge advocate for family reunions. It's a ton of work to haul food for 30 for a week two states away. It requires hours of planning and communicating. Sometimes it's pure chaos. But to watch my boys forming relationships with their far-away cousins and laugh my guts out with my siblings I would do just about anything.

{from the top: Rog and Blaine are BEST friends these days, Uncle Brian with the 3 amigos, Blaine adored cousin Bridget (as did I), me + 4 boys at Yellowstone's Grand Canyon, cousies wating for Old Faithful to erupt (totally lived up to the hype!), Seamus the 14-year-old giant (was darling with Rog!) and my twin brother, Steven, Blaine the Science Kid couldn't get enough of the geo thermal landscape}

{Jon works the bedhead (at the breakfast table where 3,476 bowls of lucky charms were consumed--GROSS!), baby Steven and baby Carter, Nana and Carter}

On our last day there were gifts from Chile and North Carolina and a big fat talent show.

And, because I love you, here is a video clip of my sister, Liz and me doing a 'tap-off' for the talent show. It has been a decade plus since we've tapped and it was all we could do to not laugh our heads off. Wow, thanks for the lessons, Dad. Totally worth your money, don't you think? {Liz, can you ever forgive me for posting this?}

Now, try to stop laughing at me while I tell you about the second, more solemn part of my trip. Taylor, the boys, and I cut out of the family festivities early to dash down to Utah for the funeral of our dear friend, Wes. His wife, Lori, has made several appearances here at Bloom, so I thought you'd want to know about her loss. We can't stop crying about it and hurting for Lori and her children. It was a privilege to know Wes. We hope you'll remember the Trumans in your prayers.

xoxoxo
anne

The Little Magical Things

Yesterday morning Henry woke up and asked for breakfast in bed. Why not? I thought. I grabbed some (mostly spill-proof) vittles and we snuggled in for breakfast. I wiped hands and tried to prevent spills the whole time, but it was fun to bend the breakfast rules and a tiny bit magical in the way that any little shake-up of the routine is magical when you're a child.

I have three goals for our summer days:

* work
* read
* play

We try to get our chores and 30 minutes of reading done in the morning and then we get on with our fun. Do you know how great it is to plan an afternoon when the only objective is "have fun"?

Really great.

Anne and I need a little summer break, so we're going dark for a few days; we'll catch up with you here in a week or so. Happy 4th!

I bribed them with rainbow sherbet

The lovely Stacey Morris photographed us in amazing Lithia Park a few weeks ago. Here are some of the rad outtakes...

"Don't pick him up by his shirt, Blaine!"

"Here it is, Rog! I found your rolly polly. Now please stand in place for the picture!"

would have been so cute with Rog's cooperation...

my fave pic of the day (sincerely)

dang, they're cute

poor little fussy Carter

One of the main reasons for the photo session was an artistic shot I had in mind for some art work in our entry way. I'll show you when it's done...

xo,
anne

Things I want to teach my children everyday by Bloom Guest Steph (Day 2)

Hello Bloom readers, thank you so much for having me! I’m Steph, mom of 2 1/2 year old C and 11 month old S and founder of Modern Parents Messy Kids. I’m so excited to be here today writing about intentional parenting. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the things that I want to teach my children and how and when to do so.

Before you’re a parent it seems like there will be lots of opportunities to sit your children down and bestow the words of wisdom they’ll need to be successful and happy in life. Once you actually are a parent, you realize that teaching your children isn’t done during a perfect Hallmark moment - it’s done with your words and actions day in and day out.

With that in mind, I sat down and created a list of the things I most want to teach my children every day (you can get a free printable of my list at MPMK here). I’m going to share with you my thinking behind each of these items and I would love it if you’d share with me what values you’re trying to instill in your children and how you go about doing so in your busy lives.

My intention was to do this all in one post but it started to get a little long-winded so I decided to break it up into two parts. Today is the first installment, numbers 1 - 6 of the the top 12 things I want to teach my children:

1. That They Matter
Isn’t this a parent’s #1 job? To give children a safe and secure place in the world where they’re free to discover their strengths and to find what gives them the most joy in life. And consequently to find out how they can use these things to make meaningful contributions to the world? I know all that sounds a bit grandiose so let me put it in more simple terms.

Every day I try to truly see my children - to get down on their level, look them straight in the eye and really listen to what they’re trying to tell me. Of course I don’t always succeed, my New Year’s resolution was to spend just one hour a day giving my full and complete attention to each of them. Every time I remember to pause for a minute and do so, I validate my kids and send them the message that they are important and what they think and do matters.

2. The Only Real Rewards in Life are Intrinsic
As I said, my son is two right now and, as many of you know, trying to get a two year old to do what you want can be a very frustrating task. There are lots of methods (all of which I have tried at one time or another): bribing, threatening, pleading. In the end none of them work for long. What it comes down to is that children (and adults) need to be intrinsically motivated.

Sooner or later my kids will figure out that external rewards won’t make them happy. True contentment comes from setting goals and accomplishing them, not from making lots of money and buying lots of things. So instead of bribing them with treats or threatening to take away toys, I try to explain the consequences of their choices. Again, this isn’t always easy but I do the best I can. One resource I’ve found to help me in my efforts is this fabulous eBook.

3. To Be Grateful
In today’s reality-TV obsessed culture, kids are exposed more and more to a world of entitlement and materialism. I want to make sure my children know how lucky they really are - to make sure they’re aware of the many people in the world who have much, much less then they do. I want them to grow up to be global citizens and contributing members of society. One way of doing this is by getting them involved in volunteering early in life. I’ll admit, with a baby and a toddler, this is an area I haven’t made much progress in yet. But this post has me inspired to try harder by pointing out the smaller things you can do with young children.

4. To Do Unto Others...
The golden rule, “Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you” is a powerful and easily understood message for children. It teaches both empathy and consideration. And going back to the theme of “intrinsic rewards”, I want to teach my kids that doing for others ultimately gives you as much (or more) than it gives others.

5. Happiness is a Choice
The older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve realized that being happy isn’t about being lucky and having everything go your way - it’s a choice that we make each and every day. It’s a lesson that I’m still learning myself so I’m not entirely sure how to teach it to my children. But I think one way is to dispel of the notion of “fairness”.

My kids are still young so I’ll admit that I’ve barely even entered the realm of “she got more than me - that’s not fair”. But I’ve heard of many families who go by a motto of “you get what you get and you’re happy to have it”. I know that won’t always be easy, I know there will be jealousy and tantrums. But this also goes back to the notions of being grateful and intrinsic rewards. I truly believe that my children will ultimately become happier adults if I can find ways to teach them this lesson now.

6. I Love Them NO MATTER WHAT
This is the no-brainer on the list, right? Every parent wants their children to know they love them. I tell my son I love him so much that he’s made a game of it. He often says to me, “Mommy, you say ‘I love you’ and I say ‘I love you' back". Of course it takes more than words, it takes hugs and kisses and lots of attention.

One thing I’m working on right now is how to convey the “NO MATTER WHAT” part of the message. I try to remember to tell him I love him when things aren’t going great. After a tantrum I might say that he made me sad by screaming but that I always love him. It’s a message I’m still working on how best to convey but I feel if I lay the groundwork now it’ll pay off later when they make the bigger mistakes that are part of growing up.

Wow, that’s a lot more writing than I usually do at MPMK. I hope you were able to stick with me for all of it. And please realize that this is a post about what I strive to do as a parent, on my best days. There are plenty of times that I fail miserably but trying to do better is a lesson in itself that I model for my kids. As I said, I’d love to hear your thoughts on my list and your own and thank you again so much to Bloom for having me!

Things I want to Teach My Children Everyday by Bloom Guest Steph (Day 1)

Good morning! We hope you had a delightful Fathers' Day! We're excited to announce that this week we will be graced with the presence of Steph of Modern Parents Messy Kids. So fun! Steph will be here tomorrow sharing things she wants to teach her children every day. Today, she's offering a darling, colorful, free printable of that list over at her blog. Get your printable, then join us back here tomorrow to hear all about it!

***Also, scroll down to see the winner of the RugsUSA giveaway!

Summer Fun / Idealistic Parenting

inspiration

i got a bit of flack about my getting-ready-for-a-roadtrip post -- "overachiever mom" "what's wrong with electronics the whole way?" -- that kind of thing. and yea - it was over the top, totally worthy of some eye-rolls. truth: we didn't do most of the things i thought about; i didn't make a family favorites album, but i wish i had, we listened to enough raffi to make us (nate and i) looney. henry couldn't have cared less about the trip journal - flop. and i didn't have little packages for the kids to open every hour, but i did take a bit of time before we left to make sure I had a few tricks up my sleeve for the restless moments...

and! our time in the car was really great. we listened to charlie & the chocolate factory (on CD) and we were completely enchanted. (roald dahl is my hero). at one gas station stop we all hopped out and picked out a chocolate bar to enjoy during the next chapters. it was magical! and we chatted. and sang songs. and played the guessing game. and ate junk. and had fun.

so i'm pressing on in my idealistic ways; you can roll your eyes if you want to. this morning we made our *summer 2011 list* -- all the things we'd like to do while the fruit is ripe and the sunshine is warm and we're schedule-less.
our list is not 1/100th as cute as Meg's, (above) but it is magnet-ed to the side of the fridge and we will consult it regularly for inspiration.

here are a few things we're looking forward to:

*star gazing on mimi's lawn
*homemade ice cream, probably peach flavored
*making pajama pants & having a pajama party
(we're going to need someone with sewing skills to help with this one)
*sprinklers, splash parks, swimming
*making fruit popsicles
*sending a package to a friend
*making the kids room a more colorful, kid-happy place to be
*getting new sunglasses (mom & henry)
*eating a picnic on top of a (small :) mountain
*make-your-own pizza party
*late nights with friends
*breakfast in bed


fun starts today - we're spending the morning with our crayolas and then we're taking our creations to our dear elderly friend, ethyl.

what are you doing this summer?

I'm even managing not to have a third-life crisis

When my birthday is approaching I tend to think big. I dream of having my own sewing machine, receiving a gorgeous new necklace, or being surprised with a mint green cruiser. I picture myself cruising around the neighborhood on said bike, my hair blowing behind me, showing the world that 30 is still young.

{feel free to roll your eyes.}

But once the day actually comes (it's here! I'm 30 today!), I find myself far more content, and my dream wish list sort of just disintegrates. I'm happy to sleep in, nurse the baby in bed, and welcome the older two boys--pajama-clad and bed-hedded--to join our snuggle when they come downstairs. I'm content to work on laundry and wipe counters and plan a park outing. (And break up fights and clean up spills and wipe away tears.) I'm thrilled to have a mellow day to just marinate in my life.

Seven years ago this month I completed my eighteen month stint as a Mormon missionary. I came home, started dating my best friend, and got engaged within six weeks. I remember one night, after returning home from a date with Taylor, I burst into tears, picked up the phone, and dialed his number. It went to voice mail. After the beep I blurted out, in between sobs, "I just want to say that I'm so happy! All I ever wanted to do in my whole life was be a missionary and marry Taylor Cropper! I can't believe I got what I wanted! I am so grateful!"

And it just keeps getting better and better.

Who needs a wish list?




Not me.

xoxo,
anne

On Mothering & Being Mothered

Our final mothering submission comes from Sarah Plummer. We have so loved all of these posts. Thank you all for making Bloom such a community!

Certainly when I think of what it means to be a good mother, I think of my mom. I think, too, of when my first baby was born.

I had pushed little Lucy out and into the hands of capable doctors and nurses, all waiting to whisk her away to the newborn ICU. She did not cry. Her lungs would not inflate. She was turning blue. I rested my head in my mother’s arms.

I rewind in my mind to me lying on a different hospital bed. I was twenty weeks along in my precious pregnancy, excited to find out if this muffin was a boy or girl. We got devastating news instead. The baby had a severe diaphragmatic hernia. The diaphragm mysteriously did not close while forming. This meant the stomach and intestines were free to move about the chest cavity – crowding the lungs and pushing the heart to the right. And, we were having a girl.

My mom was in that ultrasound room with my husband and me. She held me, we cried. The months following brought numerous ultrasounds and visits to specialists. She was there for every one. As young wide-eyed parents, her support was sweet and needed as we stepped into the world of medical terminology and unanswered questions. She had given birth ten times. She endured, with small children at home, a husband away in Vietnam. She had lived through many facets of heartache, a loved one struggling with alcohol, other loved ones who were sexually abused, and simply the tiresome antics of raising and rearing a large family. She did it all with strength and fortitude, willing to quietly serve and enrich those around her. Along the way she passed to me priceless lessons of what it means to be a mom: intense love, patience, pain, dedication, and sometimes giving up my desires for what Father in Heaven has in store.

When it came time to have our Lucy, I knew I needed my mother there. With her hands on my hair, I watched Lucy flinch and then be wheeled away on a high-frequency ventilator.

The following months were scary, heart-wrenching, spiritual, devastating, and beautiful. As we were faced with the decision to carry on with Lucy’s care, and watch her slowly decline, or to let her be free from pain, our parents continued their absolute support. My mom was one of the last people to hold Lucy before she passed away.

She’s held me many times since then.

My mom has since been diagnosed with a rare connective tissue disease, which is slow-moving and fatal. I am soaking in the time I have left with her. I don't let trifling differences get in the way -- it's so not worth it. I also enjoy two handsome little boys, teach them where they came from, and where they are going because of all I’ve learned from those two lights of my life. I hold those boys close. I drink up their exuberance. They offer earnest and sweet prayers for their "Nanny" and they know we will be with their sister Lucy again. Oh, I am thankful. And lucky.

I have been mothered and I am a mother.

A Mum & A Soldier

Louise & Meg

Loved this sweet, honest bit about mothering from Louise. Also love that we have readers across the ocean and that we get to learn from their lives. Pretty cool!

I'm a 30 year old single Mum to a lively, cheeky 11 year old. I had Meghan at 19 and have brought her up on my own from day one. I'm ashamed to say that I got a pregnant from a one-night stand but also thrilled it happened because Megs is the reason I get out of bed in the morning! And the reason I turn the oven on. I hate cooking and would live on sandwiches and cereal if it wasn't for her :) I'm also a serving soldier in the British Army and I guess this is what makes us stand out as a family. When I first had Meghan, single parent families in the Army were practically non-existent and, though there are a few more of us now, we are still few and far between. Juggling life as both a mother and soldier has been hard, there's no getting round that, but despite being so exhausted sometimes I can barely remember my own name, being a Mum is, without a doubt, 100% the best thing that ever happened to me. I couldn't love her more if she came with a lifetime's supply of chocolate!

We're all in this together

{Lucy T. holds baby Carter after showing me her collection of bug drawings and performing at least a dozen cartwheels}

A few weeks ago I dropped everything and flew (with the babe, of course) to Utah. Although I always feel strange leaving my children, I knew they were in the capable and loving arms of my husband, my parents, my husband's parents, and even several aunties (we recognize how lucky we are), so I decided to revel in the opportunity to visit a place I love and many people I adore, all while having lots of time just for holding and feeding my baby.

A lot of things about the trip stand out. The way I couldn't stop grinning as I walked through the Salt Lake airport. How elated I felt driving up University Parkway and through the tree streets. How lovingly I sat in Grandma's home--the home I lived in as a newlywed, the home I brought two babies home to. How fun and free I felt as my SIL Sara and I shopped and worked on wedding plans and watched chick flicks late into the night.

But what has stuck with me most following the trip were some observations I made as I visited my friends.

Observation no. 1: Your children are precious.

In the absence of my boys, I had unprecedented time and attention to give to my friend's children. I held them and beheld them. I watched Lucy T victoriously jump rope across the back patio. I smiled and cheered when she was successful and felt her frustration when the rope got caught up in her dress. I smiled as I watched Spencer--just up from a nap--rest his ruffled little head lovingly on his mother's chest. I marveled as Bronx and Bo (so grown up!) served me lunch so darlingly ("Would you like another sandwich, Anne? How about some ice water?"). I held Avery and became so enchanted with her one-of-a-kind personality that I found myself asking her to pray down a little girl just like her for me. I wanted to eat Ollie's big baby cheeks. Lucy B. dazzled me with her curliest of all hair and Disney princess eyes. Her brother Charlie charmed me with his blonde locks, glasses, and coy grin. I sat on the couch with Claire and felt my jaw drop as she (who just turned 4!) read me a book well beyond her years. I held her brother Charlie, with the best round face I ever saw, and wanted to sneak him home in my suitcase. I watched Elinor and John chase each other around their living room and wished for the same energy and free-wheeling exuberance.

I loved every breath of it.

Observation no. 2: We're all in this together.

Without fail, apologies were made in every one of my friend's homes. "Sorry my house is such a mess." "I guess I should have combed her hair!" "Go ahead and use the bathroom; no promises as to how it looks!" "I'm Sorry he's acting like this!" They were the same apologies I make every single day. And it made me think, we don't need to apologize to each other. We're all about the same work. We all have messier than we prefer homes, occasionally whiny or sassy children, and some level of general bedlam in our lives. That's the way it is. No explanations or apologies necessary.


I came home renewed and ready to behold my little ones. (Nothing like a little vacation to fill you up with energy and patience!) I'm trying not to focus on the spilled chocolate chips and the screaming fights over legos and the potty training regression. I'm trying instead to see the tiny freckles across Blaine's cheeks and the way Roger moves his chubby little hands. I'm trying not to get so hot and bothered as I wipe up the kitchen floor seven times a day, but just be glad I have little ones eating at my table.

xoxo,
anne

p.s. One of the most awesome things I did in Utah? Appear on local TV. (I think I hear QVC calling...) {cue laughter}

Clothe Yourself with Kindness by Bloom Guest Sarah

Good morning, friends! We hope you had a glorious Memorial Day weekend! We spent some time at the Oregon coast and Em and her hubby celebrated their 8th anniversary!

Today on Bloom we have a Mothering submission from Sarah Powell. I think you'll love what she has to say--it'll make you stop and think...

Our pastor's wife at church recently hosted a series for young women
and one of the topics was kindness. She shared this verse (Col 3:12-13):
"Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves
with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each
other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone.
Forgive as the Lord forgave you." She then posed this question, "What do you
clothe yourself with in the morning?" I think as women we tend to think, worry
or even fret about what to wear. We want to look nice for our friends and
family and to give a good first impression. And I am certainly not saying that
that is wrong. I feel like it is important as mothers and wives to take care of
ourselves so that we can in turn take care of our families. Her question really
stuck with me though. At what point am I more concerned with my outward
appearance than what I wear in my heart and in my actions. My young children (3
1/2 and 10 months old) certainly appreciate when Mommy looks nice and smells
good...in fact my little girl will tell me over and over. But I am most certain
that what type of clothing I wear will not make the lasting impression on
them that my actions will. So I have been taking on the daily challenge of
CHOOSING to clothe myself in kindness. And can I tell you that our entire family
has felt the change. When Mom chooses kindness on a daily basis, the whole
attitude and air in the home changes. Patience, understanding, love and
compassion flow more easily when kindness is the focus. I can tell you it is
not easy. But each morning I choose to give as much thought to what I will
clothe myself with, as to what I will wear. So as Julie challenged me, I ask
you "What will you clothe yourself with today?"

Metronome Hearts by Bloom Guest Meg

Do you know what a metronome is? It is a device used in music to help you keep tempo while you learn a piece of music. It is a tool to help you keep pace and to push yourself toward your goals.

Now, I am no musician. No, not at all. But I do know how to read music and play the piano. So when I moved to a tiny church of 40 members who sings hymns to a boom-box, that little something told me I could use my back-burner "talent".

I acquired the hymn book and looked through until I found the Easter hymns. I had my goal, I would debut my meager effort on Easter, so I started practicing. Oh boy... my fingers clumsily plunked through the notes, getting no where let me tell you.

Until I remembered the trusty metronome (or metronome app!). I set the tempo at a snail's pace and familiarized myself with the melody, until I had a general handle on it all.

About two and a half years ago, I gave birth to my second little boy, 18 months after my first. I still knew well how to care for a new-born and all went smoothly there. It was the little 18 month old that brought my challenge. I knew nothing about helping such a small child adjust to a new sibling, and knew nothing about mothering multiple children period. I struggled and fumbled. But I kept our pace slow and eventually gained a handle on things.

As I worked toward my Easter goal, I knew I needed to push the tempo up a little. My fingers struggled to keep up, failing from time to time, but always trying to produce some semblance of a beautiful melody. And eventually, they would. Then I always hit a wall. I was no longer progressing, my fingers comfortable at the current speed, sometimes even faltering because of the lack of a challenge. I was too comfortable at that slow speed. I was more easily distracted and my mind wandered to other things.

Over the past 2 months, I began to again struggle with our little family. My two year old has been slow to talk, causing frustrated communications, and my nearly four year old became grumpy, defiant and quick to throw tantrums. He struggled to listen and to find reason to be a positive person toward others. At the same time, expanding our family has been on my mind. On the good days, I feel ready to welcome another into our family. On the bad days, I wonder if I should ever have more babies. When dealing with my children I frequently found myself exhausted, exasperated and thinking about other things I could be doing.

So what do I do when I hit the wall? What do I need when I stop progressing; stuck and not in a good place? I tried again and again to concentrate and do my best, but I just kept stumbling.

As my fingers became more and more useless, I remembered my goals and the metronome. I used that metronome to push the tempo again and again. My fingers initially faltered, then something amazing happened. My resolve returned, my focus sharpened and my view expanded until I smoothly produced the melody up to speed. I pushed the tempo again and again, until finally, angelic hymns floated almost perfectly up to heaven.

As I wondered in awe at my amazing experience with the metronome, I then realized something. I realized that children have little metronome hearts. They push my tempo and force me to keep pace. They sharpen my focus, return my resolve to all things truly important and expand my view heavenward. As my children grow, their hearts grow, become more efficient and slow, so I need to let their little hearts push me as much as they can. And right now. Suddenly, my doubts about my abilities as a mother faded and I felt comfort and peace. And now I know that someday, I don't know when, our family just may need another little metronome heart with a quicker beat to push us toward our goals. That one day our family may be as a symphony floating almost perfectly up to heaven.

More Meg here.

A Tender Mercy by Bloom guest Mickie

Every Tuesday I try to think of a Tender Mercy and share it on my blog. Sometimes they are silly little things sometimes they are HUGE life changing things. It seems to me the trend in blogging for moms is to project that life as a mother is all hearts and flowers, that they are always put together and on top of things, their houses are always spotless, their kids are always dressed to perfection and perfectly behaved. Tis no so! Not even close! I think it's important to talk about the rough times as much as the good times because in reality my blog is for my children. Maybe some day in 20 years my daughter will be in a similar situation and find some solace or courage because of something I said. Here is a recent example of my 'Tender Mercy Tuesdays...'

At about 7 pm last night, the Spence house was a little nuts. I was trying to feed Maylee and Ty at the same time and neither were being very understanding that there was only one of me and two of them! It ended with Maylee not being properly burped and screaming while Ty was so mad that I didn't get him MORE applesauce soon enough that he hucked the bowl and provided me with my first applesauce explosion to clean up in the kitchen. On top of that I am realizing that I haven't eaten and those that know me know that I don't have the longest patience in the world when I am starving. I didn't get mad or upset I just did the best I could to fulfill everyones needs before mine.

As I thought everyone was taken care of I started to make something for myself. I was cutting up watermelon and in my hypoglycemic state sliced my finger nicely... Then the crying starts again from both children for various reasons and I can't do anything about it because my finger is bleeding so badly I would get blood all over if I left the sink. I finally got everything under control AGAIN then started cutting up the pineapple. Yeah, pineapple juice in an open flesh wound (even wrapped ina band aide) is right up there with lemon juice. Not a good idea... None the less I got dinner in the oven for Matt and myself and got to work stripping down Ty and consoling Maylee.

After things settled down, dinner was eaten and everything was cleaned up at about 8 o'clock I got Ty in the tub (he played in the mud for about 2 hours earlier that day) and I was getting splashed like crazy. I finally got him to bed and Maylee started in on her "fussy" time so I got her and was trying to calm her down when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. HA I about fell over laughing. I looked pretty darn put together that morning... by 8 that night my hair was going every which way from numerous games of peek-a-boo and wrestling with Ty and his blanket, my make up was all but gone due to the water splashed in my face, I had blood on my pants, mystery stains on my shirt, my forearms had mud speckled on them from being in close proximity of Ty the mud slinger and my shoulder smelt a bit like baby puke.

I got to thinking, REALLY? I signed up for THIS? I just wish there was someone with a video camera that could have followed me for those hours and then brought it in to show those high school students that think they are old enough to be sexually active... these are the consequences! I CHOSE to do this and it's still crazy and hard. BUT for some reason I love it. ALSO, what makes it even better is I have a loving husband who comes home from work and school and takes the kids so I can shower, relax a little and gear up for the next day of applesauce explosions and mud slinging competitions. What on EARTH would I do with out him! Also not having him around this weekend just nailed it down... being a Single Mom would be TOUGH STUFF!

Anyway, It all just reminded me of this quote I saw on my SIL's fridge this weekend. It summed it all up for me...

“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 grass stains on my shoes from mowing Sister Schenk’s lawn. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor’s 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.” Marjorie Hinckley

Bring on those sticky kisses, I'll take all of them I can get.

On Legacy by Bloom Guest Kierra

I think this post follows yesterday's nicely. Some of us are trying to emulate our mothers very closely - others of us are trying to make some significant deviations from the ways of our upbringing. Many of us are doing a little of both. I love this story that Kierra shares about how her own mother left behind some very dark parts of her family's tradition and gave her children a gentle, wholesome childhood. Heroic, I think. Thanks for sharing this Kierra...

A little over a month ago (actually, just days after my grandmother passed away), I went to Texas and Louisiana with my parents. It was rock-solid AWESOME to sleep without my husband snoring and little elbows and toes joining me in my bed in the middle of the night, but what was even awesome-er was the time I spent with my parents and the things I learned about them and my mom's family.

In Texas, we stayed with my mom's cousin, Edwina, who happens to be one of the funniest and biggest-hearted people I have had the privilege of meeting. She is all Texas--big hair, drawling accent, and land money--but she is delightful. She also has a brain that functions like a rolodex, recalling every near and distant relative that's come down in the last several generations, some 3 and 4 times removed, but still family. And she's full of stories about every one of them...

I never really knew my mom's family before this trip, aside from my grandparents and her two siblings. The rest were in far away Texas, and the only time I had ever been was for the funeral and burial of my grandfather. It was a rushed trip filled with so many names and faces I had never heard or seen before, and none of it stuck.

This time was a bit different. Because the visit was longer, and because of the nature of our trip, I was able to meet, hear stories of, and understand my mom's family in a whole new way. And I was able to see and appreciate her in a new light...

This is "Mama Kerley," my mother's grandmother. And, to see the picture of her, the source of every last one of my mother's physical traits.

Here is my mother (L) with Cousin Edwina (R), and Edwina's mother, Dorothy (C-my mom's aunt). Here you can see the strong resemblance between Mama Kerley, Aunt Dorothy and my mom.

Thankfully, the physicalities are the end of the resemblance.

Before this trip, I knew only a little about my mom's aunts, uncles, and father. I knew that Grandpa was a bit of a wild one--they left Texas because he was worse under the influence of his family--womanizing, gambling, and the like. I knew that he was far from perfect, and that he was often more unkind in words than a father should be. But I also knew that the man of my own memories had softened in his old age, was incredibly generous with his wealth, was funny, and was a good man in his own way.

I learned a lot over the trip that made me very grateful to him...

My grandfather had a brother, John, who it seems has a name that is invariably linked to some version of "son-of-a-bitch," because no one can mention him without it--who claimed money was his god, who beat his children, and whose wife thanked the doctors when they killed him.

I heard stories that told my grandfather's other siblings were also extremely hard on their children, my mother's cousins, in a way that seems brutal and shocking in comparison to my own gentle upbringing. When I asked my mom where it came from, whether Papa Kerley (her grandfather) had been that way, she told me she thought it was Mama Kerley that used her hand.

I contemplated this a lot in my time there and since. And I struggle a bit in writing this post because I don't want to seem like I am airing the family's dirty laundry, or letting everyone see the skeletons in the closet. This trip didn't leave me horrified at my ancestry, it simply made me more aware of the goodness that has come through my own line. For all his faults, my grandfather was the only one among his siblings who stopped that cycle of physical abuse, and my mother continued on that spectrum. Not only did she never lay a hand on us, but she never intentionally cut us down with words--removing us completely from that world.

My mother, like all mothers, is not a perfect woman. But she raised me in a way that I never had to doubt her love for me, in spite of some mighty fine effort on my part. I never feared her. I never felt anything but that her actions were aimed at my own best interest and in showing her love for me. Were it not for the stories I heard in Texas--the images of bruised skin, long sleeves in the Texas summers, and miserly aunts and uncles--it never in all my life would have crossed my mind that this could be my own fate, were it not for the interventions of two GOOD people in the way they chose to raise their children.

When all is said and done, every good trait I have as a mother to my babies was planted in seed by my own mother. Every loving word, every gentle moment I have with my children, all these are made possible by the work and love of my mom, as she struggled to raise us in spite of her family history. In the midst of the exhaustion, chaos, fear, and outright disaster five kids can cause, she succeeded. She did what every parent hopes to do: take the best, improve, and leave the bad stuff behind.

As I think about the legacy my mom will leave, I realize that some of the most important parts are the threads she cut and left out of her own tapestry, then spun anew with a more glorious weave. It is a legacy that I can only hope to pass along, to take the best of myself--those pieces of her--and pass them on to my own.

You can find more of Kierra - her beautiful prose, her mindful life, and her lovely creations - at her blog.

Becoming by Bloom Guest Emily Johansson

We received more May submissions than we ever dreamed we would! It's been so fun to watch them come tumbling in. They are so personal and meaningful -- thank you for sharing your thoughts and experiences so freely. Here's the next in line...

Emily & her mother (and a few other dear ones :)

It came to me while I was doing laundry. I dumped in the detergent, loaded the barrel with my husband’s work clothes, and turned the dial to permanent press. In the ten years that I’ve lived outside of my parent’s home, I don’t think I’ve ever turned the dial to permanent press. And yet, I did it again after the clothes were washed, and it was time to move things to the dryer. Permanent press. I played with my children until the dryer beeped, and then ran to pull things out before any wrinkles could set in. As I was hanging things up, it came to me.

I am becoming my mother.

For 18 years, I watched my mother go through the same routine with my dad’s laundry. If she was busy teaching piano lessons or making dinner when the dryer finished, I was called on to pull things out before any wrinkles set in and required ironing. That is just how laundry should be done.

I’ve thought a lot about my little tendencies, habits, and mannerisms since that epiphany, and can see how many of the things I do as a wife and mother are things I’ve picked up by watching my mother. From the way I clean a toilet to the way I sing with my children at the piano, I am becoming her.

And while I am slowly morphing into my mother, I can’t help but feel so blessed. She never raised me to be her. She raised me to be me. I am becoming my mother because there is no other woman in the world I would rather be like than her.

Thanks for sharing, Emily. I adore your last lines. Very sweet.

Do you find yourself doing things that remind you of your mother?
In what ways do you feel her influence in your own mothering?

* I know not everyone has this kind of mother - some of you may be making a mindful effort to do things differently than your mother - trying to create new patterns, looking for better ways. We want to speak to that reality, too. Tomorrow's post will address the issue of putting off an unsavory legacy and creating a better one to hand down to your children.

Sewing Through Grief by Bloom Guest Carlee

Whew boy! There's been some funky stuff going on with Blogger, no? We're glad to be back up and running...hope it lasts! And we hope you enjoy this submission from Carlee. I love the concept of processing grief through creativity. And how creating something for her unborn child helped Carlee come to terms with an uncertain future. Thanks for being here, Carlee...

On my blog, The Polka-Dot Umbrella, I share sewing projects, some recipes, and the occasional thrift store find or tip. I really love to sew, and sharing my projects with an audience bigger than my friends and family has been so rewarding. There is something so satisfying with taking a piece of two dimensional fabric, and creating something with structure and form that is beautiful and useful. I love seeing my friends, and especially my children, using or wearing something that I have made for them.


While I love having fulfilling hobbies, being a mother is what I spend most of my time doing, and really is the most important part of my life. When the ladies at Bloom invited me to contribute to their month long celebration of motherhood and womanhood, I was thrilled to be asked, and I knew exactly what I wanted to share.

Two years ago, just after Mother's Day, my little family faced some tough news. I was pregnant with our second child (another boy, yeah!), and after several abnormal ultrasounds and one echocardiogram (which is basically a fancy ultrasound for the heart) we learned that our expected son had a rare heart condition called Ebstein's Anomoly, and that it was very serious. Kids with Ebstein's have problems with the tricuspid valve on the right side of their heart, the part that is responsible for pumping blood to their lungs. Since babies in the womb don't send blood to their heart to be oxygenated, it was difficult to predict what would happen after our son was born and the blood started flowing to his heart. The other problem is that this condition leads to an enlarged heart, and can compromise lung development because of lack of space.

After we left our first appointment, we were pretty crushed. We were so excited to welcome a second child into our little family, and I never expected that we would be faced with any health problems. So many babies are perfect, and I completely expected that mine would be as well. While the last two years with my first son hadn't exactly been easy, I had never been in a difficult situation like this before. I felt too young to deal with something so serious, and like many of us in tough times, I didn't know if I would be able to hold it all together. Since there was nothing we could do other than monitor him closely for the remainder of my pregnancy, our coping strategy was to avoid thinking about it. Fortunately, we had lots to keep us busy! We had an almost two year old to chase after, and additionally, we were preparing for a cross country move for my husband to start a PhD program just weeks before my due date.

Once we settled into our new apartment in New England, the reality of the situation started to weigh down on me. While my baby was inside my womb, he was safe and 'healthy', but there was so much uncertainty about what would happen after his birth. We were told to expect anything from immediate death after delivery, to a best case scenario where he could breathe on his own, and would only have a limited stay in the NICU of about one month. The closer I got to his due date, and later to his scheduled induction, the more anxious, fearful, sick, and full of grief I became. Preparing for the birth of any baby is stressful, but when I was pregnant with my first son, all my feelings of anxiety were overshadowed by my excitement to meet my tiny perfect child. This time I was dreading the birth, because I worried that his birth also meant his death. I wondered how I could go on without this new baby, and how I could continue being the mother my older son needed.

Just days before my son was born a couple of things happened that helped me to gain peace of mind. First, my husband, assisted by the bishop at our church, gave me a blessing. The second thing that really helped me prepare for his birth was to sew. Maybe this sounds trite, but this was a really big step for me. It is true that I really love to sew, and I worked on quite a few projects during my pregnancy. I made a tiny toddler backpack, a purse for a friend, several pairs of leather baby shoes, dresses for my friend's daughter, and a handful of other projects. I had done lots of sewing, but what I hadn't done was to sew something for my baby, for this baby with an uncertain future. We hadn't set up our crib, washed baby clothes, or unpacked the car seat. Essentially, what I had done was prepared myself for his death, but I hadn't started preparing for his life.

One night, I took a deep breath, and started to sew. I made something simple. It was something that he could wear at the hospital if he stayed there for awhile, but more importantly, I hoped it would be something he could wear when he came home to live with our family. The little white cotton kimono top and linen pants were nothing fancy, but they were for my baby. Maybe it sounds silly, but by the simple act of sewing for my child, I started to expect him to wear what I had made. I started to visualize what he might look like. Maybe he'd look just like his daddy, or be an exact copy of his older brother, or maybe he'd be his very own man. I started thinking about how nice it is to hold a newborn baby, and breath deeply that smell that only the very newest babies still have. And I started to think that I might get to the chance to watch my child grow, develop, and live.

We have a happy story to tell here, and things went smoothly with his delivery. Both his lungs and heart stopped after birth, but thanks to the highly skilled professionals, he was resuscitated and kept alive with the assistance of a ventilator, lots of medicine, teams of highly trained professionals, a handful of tubes, wires, and probes, a feeding tube, prayer, and what seemed to be the constant sound of beeping.

Just a few hours after his birth.

Meeting his older brother for the first time.

After a rocky 5 weeks in the NICU, our baby was in stable enough condition to come home.

Bringing our son home from the hospital was something I worried we'd never get the chance to do. Life at home with a newborn that requires lots of extra attention (20+ doses of medication a day, bottles with breast milk plus formula for extra calories, and tons of appointments) was tricky, but honestly I was so grateful to have him that it felt so manageable.

His first Sunday home, I carefully dressed him in the clothes I had made him. When I was sewing their seams, I didn't know if my child would ever be able to wear them. But I had faith that he would, and seeing him dressed made me feel like this is what being a mother is all about. I think sometimes as women and especially mothers, we want to fix things for those we love. We wipe running noses, tie loose shoe laces, kiss skinned knees, and try to do everything we can to ensure that our children have only the best experiences. But we can't control everything. We face unexpected illnesses, bullying at school, and as my mother assures me, children get older and start making their own decisions and there isn't always much we can do.



Being a mother means so many things, and this includes being strong for my family, even when everything feels overwhelming and impossible. Sometimes it's about stepping forward on paths that are still dark, and having only a few feet lit in front of me. It's also about learning to have faith that my children will see the good things of the world, from handmade baby clothes, to everything their futures have in store for them. And for me especially, it's about remembering that being mother to these two little boys, one perfectly healthy and one with a 'broken' heart, is a gift and a privilege.

Find more of Carlee (and her clever friends!) at The Polka-Dot Umbrella.