Hashtag RealLife

Taken from parts of my journal 7/7/16.

Today was  a crazy, up and down, random day. They told me hosuekeeping was coming this morning before 11:00 (I told them any time before 11 and after 2 is best because of Aidan's naptime), so I wanted to be out of the room when they came. I've been in the hotel room when they've cleaned, and it's a little bit hard, awkward, and crowded. So I forgoed a shower (for the 2nd day in a row-ew, I know), got the kids ready, dropped Jayze off at work, and drove to the Detroit Temple (20 min away). It was so good being there in the morning before the heat and humidity were too bad...Aidan had one of his cars with him and enjoyed driving it on the temple [Side note: don't judge me], in the grass, and filling it up with dirt. Kimball was content to sleep in the baby carrier against my chest. 

After the temple, we drove around for a bit...When we got back home, I was frustrated because housekeeping didn't come. Ahhhhh! How odd is it that housekeeping is one of the major cons of living in a hotel? Well, Aidan was beyond tired, so I put him down for a nap. Then I fed Kimball, had some awake time, and then he went down for a nap, too. 

When the kids woke up, housekeeping still hadn't come, so I plopped Kimball back into the baby carrier after I fed him, put sandals on Aidan after changing his diaper (very smelly), grabbed the very full and very heavy blue bag full of dirty laundry, grabbed the laundry soap, and downstairs we went only to discover that all the washing machines were full. Ahhhhh! So frustrating. So we hauled everything back up to our room. 

With Kimball still in the carrier, Aidan and I took our trash to the bigger trash can down the hall. On the way back, we saw the housekeeping lady and she asked if we were ready for her to come clean. I said, "Yes! Have at it!" I took Aidan and Kimball downstairs and outside to blow bubbles while she cleaned. Holy moly, it was humid. 

We got back to our room (now clean and good-smelling, yay!). Kimball went down for a nap. Aidan and I ate cherries. And Jayze got off early (4:30). 

We couldn't decide what to eat for dinner, so Jayze and Aidan went to the store. Jayze and Aidan came back. I fed Kimball and put him down for a nap (crossing my fingers he'd sleep - he did) and entertained Aidan while Jayze made dinner. Aidan and I went back downstairs with that bag of laundry and lo and behold, two washers were empty! Hurrah! In our laundry went and back upstairs we went to eat Jayze's yummy biscuits-turned-Navajo-tacos dinner. Delish. [Side note: We don't have an oven, so our creative juices run on full-time around here when it comes to dinner.]  

Long story short, the two loads of laundry got done, got Aidan to bed (after a really cute prayer only Heavenly Father understood), Kimball ate again and is sleeping, dishes got washed, brushed my teeth, said my prayers, prayed with Jayze, and now I'm excited to go to sleep.

What a day.

PS: Can't wait to shower tomorrow. 

Full Hands

It was a day when it was hard to live in a hotel. 

I felt cooped up, the kids felt cooped up (at least I knew Aidan did). Dinnertime was quickly approaching, but the babe was fussy and wanted to be held and Aidan kept pushing me out of the kitchen wanting me to play with him. All the motivation I had left for making dinner vanished. I gave up and turned on a movie for Aidan so he would be entertained while I fixed up a bottle for Kimball. As I sat in the recliner feeding our precious baby and half-watching the movie with Aidan, feelings of sadness, stress, and anxiety settled over me. Dressed in sweats, hair in a ponytail, and a makeup-free face, I felt bad Jayze would walk in the door any minute to two tired kids and an overwhelmed, unmotivated wife. All I wanted, and felt like I needed, was a break.

When Jayze came home and asked about my day, I asked him if I could pass the baby to him and go lay down on the bed for ten minutes. Just ten minutes. Maybe even five. I just needed even a tiny break from being in the tiny living room all day. Even our tiny bedroom would seem nice and new. Jayze, being the sweet husband he is, offered even more than I asked. He gathered up the kids - Kimball in his car seat and Aidan with sandals on his feet and a toy car in each hand - and took them for a drive around the city.

I was so grateful. I crashed onto our bed and tried to get a few zzzz's. But for some reason I couldn't sleep, so I turned on "Fixer Upper" and vegged on that for a while. My mind finally calmed down enough for me to take a short nap. When I woke up, the hotel room was still empty. Just the sounds from people walking around in the room above us and our A/C running were heard. I lay there for a few minutes soaking in the silence, but then I felt...lonely. I suddenly missed my kiddos and my husband and wanted them to come back. I hoped they were okay. I texted Jayze to tell him I missed them and then thought of my empty arms. Aidan wasn't there crawling around on the bed struggling to climb into them and Kimball wasn't there crying to be held. It was just me.

Ever since we moved to Michigan and have lived in our one-bedroom hotel room, I've tried to get out at least once a day with the kids. We've hit up the zoo, the temple, the park that's twenty minutes away, and the public library (we go there most often because it's close, it's free, and Aidan loves it - he screams his high-pitched scream every time we leave). We've gone downstairs to blow bubbles, gone downstairs to do laundry, gone on walks on the paths around the library, and gone on long drives exploring the city. It's a struggle to get both kids out the door, but once we're out, it's definitely worth it.

It seems that every time I'm out with the kids - Kimball in the baby carrier or in the car seat and Aidan holding my hand in the parking lots - I get the comments:

"Wow, you have your hands full!" 

"How old is your little one?" 

"Two boys? Congratulations, that's wonderful."

I smile and say, with my heart bursting inside and a tinge of sadness, "Yes, yes my hands are full."

And I think, If only they knew.

If only they knew that my hands and arms were so empty a couple of years ago.

If only they knew that I'm a mom to three boys.

If only they knew how broken my heart was.

If only they knew that this young woman lugging around a full diaper bag, a baby in his car seat, and a sweet toddler used to dream of this and ache for it when her dream was shattered by the words, "I'm sorry, there's no heartbeat."

If only they knew that I prayed for these sweet babies after I buried one in the ground.

If only they knew what a struggle it was carrying each of them, hoping and trying to have faith they would make it to my arms alive.

If only they knew of the testimony I had to gain before exercising the faith to try to get pregnant the first time - to want my future to include motherhood.

That everything that includes motherhood is what I am so grateful for - the mess, stress, expense, struggles, tiny hands, pitter-pattering feet, belly laughs, baby smiles, coos, story-time, learning, growing, saying, "no," slobbery kisses, saying, "wuv ooo," prayers, songs - this is what I prayed for.

Having "full hands" to some seems overwhelming. I guess some days it is. But I've also had it the other way, which is also so, so, so overwhelming. Being a stay-at-home mom is hard...but I wouldn't have it any other way because I have had it the other way.

Wanting and needing a break is okay. I think it keeps the whole family sane. But that day in the hotel was a reminder to hold on. Soak in these babies and hold on tightly to them.

It was a reminder of the day I got to hold Alma all day long and how I would give anything to hold him again right now. To have another day with him in my arms.

Some days are long, but the years are short. This time with my precious babies is going by so quickly. It's a reminder to cherish this time because one day down the road when my babies are grown I'll wish people still said to me, "Wow, you have your hands full!"

A good friend

Jayze and I like attending the Gospel Principles class for Sunday School here in Michigan. This is the class where mainly investigators and converts to the Church go. Jayze and I like it because, even though we've been members our whole lives, we feel it's good to go back and learn the basics. Plus, the comments from the investigators and converts always make me want to do better and be better.

At the tail end of yesterday's class, the instructor asked the question, "What makes a good friend?" Then he had each person individually answer.

"A good friend is someone who is...kind, compassionate, dependable, trustworthy, has your back, loves you for who you are, relates to you, listens, provides service, is generous..."

I didn't think much of these answers at the time because I was thinking about what I would say. I happened to be last. When it came time for me to answer, I said, "A good friend is someone who truly cares about you in good times and bad times." I thought that was a pretty good answer and kind of sighed in relief that I didn't mess up (I have a hard time talking in front of a large group of people).

Sunday School ended, but the question of, "What makes a good friend?" and the answers everyone gave finally sunk in and stayed with me. Kind. Compassionate. Dependable. Trustworthy. Loving. All of these qualities, and more, in good times AND bad times.

They are beautiful qualities, and I think everyone should have that kind of a friend.

Then I thought, "Am I that kind of a friend?"

Memories of kindnesses shown to me and my family and fun times we've had with those Jayze and I regard as good friends flashed through my mind, and the thoughts came, "I hope I can be that kind of friend. I want to be that kind of friend."

To my husband, my kids, my family, my friends, people in general all around me. Because those qualities go a long way, and I think this world needs a lot more of it.

"Have courage and be kind." 

(Cinderella, 2015)

"As we touch the temple, the temple will touch us."

 "You are never lost when you can see the temple."

(Gary E. Stevenson)

 "I love to see the temple, I'll go inside someday..."

(Primary Children's Songbook, pg. 95)

 “Only the home can compare with the temple in sacredness.”

(Bible Dictionary, pg. 781) 

"As we touch the temple, the temple will touch us." 

(Thomas S. Monson)

Detroit Temple

“Say the word temple. Say it quietly and reverently. Say it over and over again. Temple. Temple. Temple. Add the word holy. Holy Temple. Say it as though it were capitalized, no matter where it appears in the sentence."

(Boyd K. Packer) 

- see "Sacred Homes, Sacred Temples" -

Missing Alma

Aidan grinned from ear to ear and happily ran to the playground. Once he got there, he was a little more cautious. With some prompting, I finally convinced him to climb the stairs so he could go down the slide.

As he started up the stairs, I looked down to check on Kimball, who was still sleeping soundly in the baby carrier against my chest. I looked up again and saw that Aidan had made it to the top of the tall, brown slide. He sat down, smiled, and seemed to want to come down, but didn't seem sure if he could.

I kept saying, "Come on, Aidan! You can do it! Come on down - it'll be fun! Wait, where are you going? Yeah, come on down! You've done it before!" After a lot of prompting, down he slid until he came to the gradual stop at the end of the slide. Once at the end, he hopped back onto the ground, looked my way, and headed toward the stairs to start the process again.

After he was done with the slide, we walked unsteadily across the wood chips to the horses on springs. It was his first time being on one, since the park we always went to in Rexburg didn't have any. He wasn't quite sure what to do, so I asked him, "Do you want to get on? Here, let me help you." I awkwardly bent down, Kimball still in the baby carrier, and plopped him into the saddle.

A little kid who we had met at the slide and looked to be about 5 years old ran over and jumped onto the horse next to Aidan's. He asked me to hold the little toy he had with him so he could rock away as fast as he could without losing his toy. Aidan stared at the little boy and watched his every move.

By watching the little boy, Aidan slowly made the connection that the horse was meant for rocking, and oh! he could put his feet on the metal stirrups to get more momentum.

Feet on the stirrups.

Aidan grinned and laughed as he made the horse go faster and faster for a few seconds and then he went back to watching the little boy, seeing if he could learn anything new again.

Then a little girl came along, jumped on a horse, rode it for a second, jumped back off, and ran to the sand pit. After that, Aidan wanted to go to the sand pit, too. So I gave the little boy back his toy, grabbed Aidan's hands and pulled him off the horse, and off to the sand pit we went...where Aidan did a lot of standing around and watching, trying to figure out how the sand pit worked. Finally, after watching the other kids for a little bit and after a little prompting from me, he carefully walked over and started playing in the dirt. It wasn't long, though, before he stopped what he was doing and went back to watching the kids all around him.

While Aidan was trying to get his bearings in the sand pit, I stood off to the side, trying to let him be independent. As I stood there, one mom asked me how old Aidan was.

I told her, "21 months." 

She smiled, nodded, and said, "He's a cutie." 

"Thanks! He likes watching more than he likes playing with other kids. I don't think I get out with him enough," I said, a little apologetically.

She smiled and said, "Oh, that's okay," and pointed out her little girl. "That's how my daughter was. She recently turned three and is just barely starting to play more independently when we come here. I think it's just a personality thing. Her older sister was a little more crazy and bold when she was that age, but my three-year-old used to be content to just hang out around me and watch the other kids play."

At that point, she got distracted and Aidan started wandering back to the horses, so I kind of waved goodbye and followed Aidan. He got on the horse again, but didn't seem as interested, so we headed toward the swings. I asked him if he wanted to get on, and he replied in his cute little toddler way of affirming that, yes, he did want to get on the swing.

Once on the swing, Aidan had the time of his life! He laughed and kept saying, "Mooooore, mooooore!" So, I stood there, took pictures, grabbed at his feet, and pushed him higher and higher.

As I pushed and played with Aidan, a knot tightened in my stomach and I had to blink back tears in the midst of laughing with him. For some reason, every time I get on the swings and swing with Aidan, or when he swings by himself and I push him, I think of Alma. Every time. And as I pushed, I thought of the reason why this time at the park, my heart felt heavy. It wasn't just because it was a new and unfamiliar place or because it was the first time I was at the park by myself with two kids and felt a new and awkward carrying a baby around and following a toddler, trying to make it look like I knew what I was doing. It was more than that because, really, none of that was really bothering me because I love what I do - trying to be a good mom to my kids. 

My heart felt heavy because of how careful and cautious Aidan was around this new and unfamiliar park. He was attempting to play with kids he didn't know - ones who were older than him and seemed to know how the different entertainment on the playground worked. And what the mom said stuck out to me about her little daughter who was also cautious. She was the second child and Aidan is the second child. I've heard from a lot of moms that the second baby tends to be calmer and easier than the first baby (obviously, not always the case), and it made me wonder what Alma would be like. Would he be more crazy and bold like the mom's older daughter? Would I be out of breath chasing him around, while also keeping an eye on Aidan and Kimball? 

At that moment, I wished Alma was there. I wished he was there so I could experience him. Experience his personality on a day-to-day basis and see him play with his younger brothers. I could just imagine him with high energy, running around everywhere, while pulling Aidan along and showing him how things worked. Being the older brother and taking care of his younger brother. Showing him the ropes and getting in some trouble now and then. 

It's hard being an angel momma. The "what if's" are always there and my invisible child is always lingering in moments like these where I remember I'd be watching over three boys and not just two. The moments where I try to imagine what my life would be like if I were raising Alma right now along with Aidan and Kimball.

These heart-wrenching, lump-in-the-throat moments hit me like a ton of bricks, and it's hard to catch my breath and get back up again. Grief isn't ever-present anymore, but in the moments it comes, it hurts just as much as the days following Alma's death did.

In times like these, I'm even more grateful for my Savior Jesus Christ and for His love for me. They are reminders to grow closer to Him and rely on Him - in both good times and bad times. They're also reminders that I haven't forgotten Alma, and he's still a huge influence in my life. I'm so grateful for that! That he is a part of our family and always will be. I just want to live worthy enough to see and hold him again. I know I can claim that promise of forever families and eternal life if I just turn to my Savior and seek for the peace and comfort that comes only through Him.

"Faith in Jesus Christ and His atoning sacrifice is, and forever will be, the first principle of the gospel and the foundation upon which our hope for 'peace in this world, and eternal life in the world to come' is built. In our search for peace amidst the daily challenges of life, we’ve been given a simple pattern to keep our thoughts focused on the Savior, who said: 'Learn of me, and listen to my words; walk in the meekness of my Spirit, and you shall have peace in me. I am Jesus Christ.'" 

("A Pattern for Peace," W. Christopher Waddell, 2016)