"I Couldn't Resist my Mothers Love."

These words have been haunting me since I read them from an Ensign article last month. It was written by a man recalling his youth and the difficult struggle he had one year as he faced the decision of whether or not he would serve a mission. He didn't want to.

During the summer he'd taken a job in which he had to wake up very early. His mother, he remembered, would get up with him while the rest of his family slept. She'd cook him breakfast and sit with him at the table before he left. She would talk to him about his day, what he thought and felt about anything and everything. Through her words she'd share her testimony, nourishing him daily with her faith. She was ever loving, never judging. He felt of her love, assured that she'd love him no matter what decision he made.

By the end of the summer he had changed his mind. He wanted to serve a mission. "I couldn't resist my mothers love," he said.

I've thought about this the past few weeks, again and again.

Because I have a son that even in his tender age I worry about. Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I worry over his rebellious nature and how it may manifest itself during his formative years. This story and quote has brought me great comfort through these concerns. I have since felt a greater desire to show him sweeter, more tender love.

There is nothing more powerful in this world than true, unconditional love. It's the kind of love that this mother had for her son and the kind of love that our dear Savior has for each of us. He loves us no matter what and believes in us even when we've lost hope in ourselves.

This kind of love is what I strive to give my children. I am sooooo NOT there yet. But I know that if I work toward this goal, great good will come.

And if my worst fears are realized and I have a child that loses his way. I hope that my love for him will be great enough, tender enough that he too won't be able to resist it. And with this love I will do my best to bring him back to the arms of our Saviors love where true peace and healing come.

Fighting

There's been a lot of fighting around here lately.

Unnecessary, petty bickering that starts at the breakfast table and doesn't end even when the lights are out and they're supposed to be going to sleep.

I think I've been putting up with it for so long now that I don't even notice it anymore. It's kind of like that canary my Mom brought home when I was a kid. The first few weeks that bird sang so much my brother and I thought we'd go crazy. We couldn't even watch Duck Tales or Rescue Rangers without sitting right in front of the TV with the volume turned way up.

The funny thing about that canary is after a while he didn't seem to sing as much or as loud. Then one day I had a friend over and she kept commenting on how loud our canary was....I had become so used to it that I had tuned it out.

I think that's what's happened with me and the boys fighting.

Last week I was at my uncle's house for 5 wonderfully quiet, peaceful days. When I came home on Saturday it was like being thrown into a house full of loud, singing canaries.

I'm sorry to say that I didn't even really miss the kids. Or maybe I should say that I didn't miss their fighting. It was so nice to have a break away from it all.

This week for FHE I was doing the lesson on the Good Samaritan hoping that I could help my children to see that Jesus's instruction to be kind and loving to others also includes members of your family.

It wasn't that great of a lesson and the kids were bickering about something during the puzzle activity I gave them at the end.

As I was wrapping things up and trying to bear my testimony I lost it. I totally started crying.

I told them how much it hurts me to see them fighting with each other. That when I was a little girl dreaming about my future home and family this was not what I had imagined. I just wanted them to love each other and get along.

It got really quiet. I thought for a moment that maybe mom crying was a good thing. But it was a short lived hope. Minutes later they started fighting again while they brushed their teeth for bed.

The next day Aaron and I were driving back from an appointment when I had a passing thought that I shared with him...

"What do you think about moving Jacob out of the boys room and letting him have his own room?"

We had discussed this a couple years ago but ultimately agreed that they needed to learn to work things out. We'd also thought that things would get better as they got older but the test of time was showing us that it wasn't getting any better it was only getting worse.

So on our way home we stopped at Target and bought some things to get Jacob set up in the spare room which would now be his room.

The greatest friction in our household lies between Jacob and Joseph, they're like oil and water. Jacob is very mature, responsible and orderly and Joseph is, well....quite the opposite. Joseph is always telling Jacob to stop acting like a grownup. And Jacob is always telling Joseph to just grow up. Benjamin takes his turn fighting with them both but the worst of it is between these two.

So last night we made the announcement, moved his things, and for the first time Jacob slept in his own bed in his own room.

And with this move I've had to say goodbye to the dream of having my 3 sons grow up sharing a bedroom creating fond memories of staying up late telling funny stories, talking about their crushes, building those brotherly bonds. It makes me a little sad to say goodbye to what I had built up in my mind as being such a special thing. I've traded that dream with the hope that my dream of living in a home filled with more love and harmony, and less fighting and bickering will be closer to my reality.

I know this is not a solution but I think that the less interaction they have the less conflict there will inevitably be.

If anyone has something they've done that has helped reduce the fighting and fostered more love between their children please let me know. I'm especially interested to hear from those of you who have boys.

This is why I love Joseph

I found this on the floor in the office, written with a pink highlighter pen....


And last week when Aaron and I went up to bed we found this note on our pillow by the same sweet boy...


On a very regular basis Joseph says and does things that make me feel like I'm going to go insane with frustration. He can be so obnoxious, irreverent and crazy. I'm so grateful that he's also such a tender-hearted boy. The thoughtful things he says and does make me love him so much. I've been trying harder lately to overlook his quirkiness and stop letting it stress me out so much. It's obvious that my parenting won't "change" him (see the quote on the header of this blog) and I worry that the frequency of him seeing me frustrated with him could damage our relationship. It's been a challenge but I think it's important for me to work on letting these things go. Soooooo,.....here's to savoring his sweetness (like these letters) and enduring the other stuff.

Just say you forgive me

Lauren was mad at me because I told her she had to clean her room before I'd let her watch a My Little Pony DVD. She started throwing a fit as I headed downstairs to unpack some stuff from our trip. While I was downstairs Joseph came into the bathroom informing me that Lauren (in her rage) had shattered one of the glass balls from the Christmas tree when she threw it over the banister. It was one of my favorite ornaments and I was upset, but with 3 boys I've had MANY of my things destroyed and consequently I've become numb to this sort of thing.

A few minutes later Lauren came downstairs crying. I asked her if breaking the ornament had been an accident to which she replied: "No, I did it on purpose because I was mad." I could tell that she felt bad about breaking it though. As I headed down the hall to survey the damage I told her, "I don't even know what to say to you right now I'm so upset." She followed behind me crying and in a desperate voice said, "Just say you forgive me!"

Sassy Girl

I was picking out a card at the store today when I got an important phone call. I was only on the phone for about 5 minutes but the whole time Lauren was competing for my attention and being extremely overbearing. When I got off the phone I was NOT happy with her behavior and proceeded to give her a mini lecture about her "not being the center of the universe."

Her response to this was to tell me in her very sassy tone, "Well,..... I don't like you being my Mommy." I wish I could say that I handled this like a mature parent but the immature side of me won that battle and I found myself blurting aloud:
"Well, I don't like you being my little girl."

I was worried that I may have taken it too far and hurt her feelings, but her next response assured me she would be just fine.

"Well you're the one who had me so you 'get what you get and you don't throw a fit'!"

I was speechless.

Monday Mornings

I light the pumpkin spice candle hoping it's warm aroma will welcome my children down to the breakfast table. Apple streussel muffins are baking in the oven as I pack their lunches for school. I put on soft music to fill our home with the spirit because I remember the feeling of peace that came into our home when my mother played primary songs on the piano. I glance at the clock realizing I need to get upstairs and start waking them up. It brings me back to my own school days. I remember how hard it was to get up on Monday mornings, facing a new day and another week of school. Would it have been easier if I'd had a mother wake me with her warm smile and soft kisses? I think so....but even with my best efforts to sweetly wake my sleeping boys sometimes they're grumpy and don't want to get out of bed- I don't blame them, sometimes I feel like that too.

As I finished up on their lunches I was thinking on these things. Suddenly a feeling of love and compassion came over me. I felt a connection with my children that I haven't felt before. It was a feeling of me being not just their mother but (spiritually speaking) their older sister. Sympathetic to their trials and suffering because I've "been there and done that" not so long ago. I felt the significance of my role as their sister to help ease their burden and smooth their transition into their journey of life. From heaven, to home, to the world. I am the keeper of that gate and my heart aches for them as I think of the world I must send them off into. I hope that the little things I do will soften the sting of the trials they must face. Creating in our home a soft place for them to fall at the end of their day when they're weary from the world.

Nothing hurts me more

Why does it hurt so bad when someone hurts your child?

A few days ago on the way home from school Joseph was in tears as he told me about 2 older boys that were being mean to him at school. One of them was a boy that he thought was really cool so it was especially painful for him (and for me). As he shared with me the details of what they had said I did my best to comfort him but nothing could take away his pain.
Nothing hurts me more than to see my children suffer. I can't get the sound of his voice cracking with pain as he recounted the details of what they had said. I wish there was something I could do-but there isn't, and that hurts.