I’m Serious. Cleaning Out the Storage Room Is Really Important

Yesterday was an unusually productive day.  I did eight loads of laundry, cleaned our bathroom, picked up, oh, a gazillion things, organized the Christmas gifts,  ironed a dozen shirts, reorganized our closet, and made dinner.

I was feeling proud of myself.

But my husband didn’t notice that I had organized the shoe closet.  So I pointed it out to him.  I even added “and let’s try to keep it this way” for good measure.

So yes, I was just a tad miffed.  It’s hard sometimes when I at home, vacuuming, knowing I’m just as smart as my husband, have just as much education, and yet . . . I’m vacuuming.  I tried to make things more equitable when he was helping my son with his English homework last night.  Why not he sweep the floor and put away the last load of laundry so I could talk about Tom Sawyer?  Of course, being the good sport he is, he quietly got up and took the broom.

Anyway, last night I stumbled upon this quote by writer Marilynne Robinson (Pulitzer Prize winner for the lovely novel Gilead). 

“At a certain level housekeeping is a regime of small kindnesses, which, taken together, make the world more salubrious, savory, and warm. I think of the acts of comfort offered and received within a household as precisely sacramental.”

It didn’t even really sink in until today, just what it all meant.  Creating order out of chaos, making a delicious cobbler out of soft apples, sorting the laundry– it is rather a holy endeavor.  It truly is a regime; a certain kind of discipline is required to strive for cleanliness when there are no deadlines, and when nobody seems to care whether clothes are in their closets or on the floor.   Mom cares.

I got to thinking though, it’s not like the captain has it easy either. He commutes work everyday without complaint and stressful days too.  He just doesn’t feel that he needs to share every detail of it with me.

This morning, I got up and made a good lunch for my husband.  He was so grateful.  And so am I, captain. So am I.

One week later:  Today I cleaned out the storage room.  I told the captain all about it.  He still hasn’t looked at it yet, but I know he’s dying to see it.   But then to my complete surprise, Ben, my 15-year-old, said, “The storage room looks awesome!” You never know!

Am I Flunking Motherhood?

When I was a student in college, I always underestimated how well I performed on my tests, sure I had flunked only to find out I got a B+.   The objective feedback helped me realize I was doing better than I thought I was.

But as a mother, I do not get this reassuring feedback.  I go to our doctor’s appointment at 12:45, proud that I’m on time, only to find out the appointment was at 11:45.   I see piano books scattered on the floor next to used bath towels, pillows on the kitchen table, dirty dishes, and pizza left out last night that my daughter is now eating for breakfast.  My kids fight with each other, and when I try to correct them, I’m told,  “You don’t know anything.”  True.  Why did I even bother going to college?

It’s easy for me to feel I’m flunking motherhood.  Who knows?   Maybe, I am, but my kids haven’t kicked me out of this house yet. What I do know is that when some friend or stranger says something kind, I want to say, “Really?  Are you sure?  You think so?  Do you have any other complements for me?”

A few days ago the cashier in the store said to me, “You’re such a good mom.”

“Why do you think that?” I asked incredulously.

“Well you’re so patient with your kids, and you’re listening to your kids about which game table they want.”

“Well, thank you,” I said.  Never mind that thirty minutes later, I was back in the store, panicked, looking for one of those children with the rest of the mall’s security staff, but she didn’t take the complement back!

When I’m closer to God, I’m gentler on myself and those around me. This morning, I was riding my bike, worrying about something, and then the thought came very clearly to me, “You bear no fault in this challenge.  Yes, you still have to work through the situation, but there was nothing you did wrong.  Don’t be so hard on yourself.”  A feeling of peace and sweetness came over me, and I knew it was true.

So can I ask you a favor?  Pray for all those mothers out there that you know, especially the ones that you think are probably flunking motherhood.  And next time you see a mom, notice something good she is doing at point it out to her.  Chances are, you’ll make her day.

When did someone say something kind to you?

The Introvert’s Guide to Enjoying Motherhood

I saw the article in the waiting room while I waited for our doctor to apply another cast on one of my children.  We were regulars there.  The article talked about the perks of being an introvert, and after I took the self-administered test, I realized I was pretty much off the charts.

I wish I had come to this self-knowledge before I had five children.

But I understand it now.

Like when my husband asks where we should go on our date night, and I say, “I want to stay here, but can we send our kids out somewhere else?”

Like when we are at the dinner table, and one little boy is rolling around on the floor like a laughing hyena and my little girl is flushing the toilet with the bathroom door open, and I ask if anybody has seen the Ibuprofen.

Or like when my son throws a pitcher of water on his younger brother, and I try to pretend like it didn’t happen.

Like when all the kids plop near me on the fire place and I just say to them, “Could you guys just not talk for a little while?”

But the irony is that I got the loudest children in the universe. How did this happen?

Is it the pollutants in the air or the red dyes in their Skittles or the extra hormones in their milk or their steady diet of frenetic television shows? How did I get so many divas? And why did their packaging not include ear plugs?

Why do they not like to play with their puzzles for hours on end like I did? Why must they run in halls and slam their heads into door jams? Why must we spend so much time in the emergency room?

I don’t know.

I do know that I love warm fires and good books and a cup of herbal tea. I do know that Bilbo Baggins and I would have really hit it off (before the wizard showed up).

But I also know that life is not about being in our comfort zone all the time.

Life should leave you out of breath, and my kids are really good at doing just that. You should see us dance with abandon to the Village People. You should see me run after them on our three mile hikes. You should me chasing their balls on the tennis courts.

And they also make me laugh. They jump up and down like crazy when they play charades, they hum when they eat their food, and they fall off their chairs regularly.

My kids are giving me lots of opportunities to break up fights, administer first aid, and wipe up spills. But they also bring me a life of adventure. I may be reluctant at times to jump in with them, but then what stories would I have to tell?

Hey! For those of you visiting from Deseret News, I am thrilled you dropped by.  You can click on the top button in the left hand corner to follow us and that would make me super happy! 

A little bit about the blog:  Several of us in our family have ADHD, and we are trying to calm ourselves down by reading children’s classics before we go to bed.  I talk about the challenges of finding time to do quiet things in our hectic world, the importance of telling our own family stories, and all the things we are learning like, “Hey Ben.  Jane Austen says you need to start going to the church dances.”  Please join us in our journey.  We’re not too good at advice since we’re pretty clueless, but we are good for a few laughs!  See you later!  beckyblackburn.com

If you have a blog, please leave a comment with your blog link so I can visit you!

Check out-

Dad Was Cool, Mom was a Geek, and Other Things Our Kids Know About Their Family History

Five Reasons I’m Not Reading to My Children

Should I Make My Son Take Ballroom Dance Lessons? 

 

Motherhood–The Most Proactive Job in the World

I figured out this new system that was going to keep me organized and change my life,  You may have wondered why I would start such a system when we are in the middle of selling our house.

Our pretty backyard.

I don’t know, but it’s the third day, and I’m still going.  After overdoing it on the first day, I decided that I’d only clean the kitchen the next today, but then two people wanted to see the house so I got to clean the whole house anyway.  I’m getting very good at showing this house.  I should be a realtor.  Except that I would hate it.     

Anyway, now it’s the third day, and I’m still trying to hold on to my system.  Shopping.  Cutting up and roasting veggies.  Why am I so determined? Maybe it’s because I’m still trying to retain some control of things.  Maybe it’s because I’m still in denial and hoping that maybe we won’t need to move after all.  We even put a hold on things, but when you have three people wanting to make offers on your home, you can only put them off for so long.    

This whole living day by day, not knowing what is going to happen next is getting old.  A friend of mine once spoke up in church and said, “I’m learning more and more I have no control over things.”  Or maybe you’ve heard the joke,  “Want to make God laugh?  Tell him your plans.”  

I don’t think the joke is funny.  It seems to say, “Why even bother because you’re not going to get what you want anyway.”  It’s a fatalist way to look at things.  

I think that God wants us to be proactive.  He wants us to learn and to study and to research and to act.  As a stay-at-home, I’ve been doing that all my life.  No other job requires such proactivity as motherhood.  We don’t work under deadlines.  Nobody is holding us accountable,  giving us promotions, or even patting us on the back.  We decide what food will be on the table, how much money will be spent, how the home will be maintained, and where the kids will go to school.  We make sure our kids do their chores and maybe even their homework.  We notice a child’s innate talent and help her develop it, even if that means sitting at the piano while she does he Hanon every day.  We plan the family vacations, the reunions, the birthday parties, the baby showers, and the neighborhood barbecues.  We create the community.  

Hanging out with two expectant mothers.

So now that the captain and I are selling our house, I should know how to do this.  I’m a proactive girl.  I can organize and wash the windows and plant flowers and get the handyman here.  I can look for new houses and drive through new areas and figure out which schools have dual immersion programs and which parks have tennis courts and how many twelve year olds are in the neighborhood.  

Then tell me please.  Why do I feel so lost?

Maybe it’s time to let go of the reins.  Maybe it’s time to give God a turn running our wagon.  I’m going to let go, any minute now–

How have you learned to let go of things?  

 

I’m a Mom: I Can Handle Any Crisis

So you may have noticed that I haven’t posted for a little while.  Or maybe you haven’t.  

Anyway, it’s been a really rough two weeks.  Really rough.  

But then I got something in the mail.  A sweet lady that reads my blog sent me a T-shirt that said, I’m a Mom:  I Can Handle Any Crisis. It was kind of funny to read that since I wasn’t feeling like I was handling crises well at all.  But maybe, just maybe if I wore the T-shirt, I would believe it.  

She also sent me this sweet note expressing confidence in my abilities and encouragement to keep pressing forward.  So here I am, still at it, hoping I’m doing better than I think I am.      

What have been some of your toughest challenges?

How did you handle them?  

My Little Secret to Sanity

My Secret to Sanity

I know what you’re thinking.  “What? You’re sane? Noo-oo.”  I know.  It’s marginal.

But seriously, I think I’ve figured it all out.  I was talking recently with a friend who was at the end of her rope.  I had been at the end of my rope a few weeks earlier and since I had been able to climb up my rope a few inches since then, I felt pretty qualified to offer her some sound advice.

“Watch soaps.  That’s what my mom tells me to do.”  O-kay, so I’ve never actually done that unless you count Downton Abbey.

Then I told her what truly helped me.  I count to fifty.  I put fifty things away, then I spend time doing something with at least one of my children, and then I give myself a little break, usually reading a chapter of a book.  Then I start the cycle again.

It works wonders.  I don’t get as discouraged or distracted because I really like to read and I’ll do about anything if I can give myself permission to read a book.  I don’t like putting things away that much, but hey, I can put fifty things away and it’s not too bad.  I get a lot more done, I get some good reading in which always energizes me, and I get some quality time with the kids—unless I skip that part of the cycle, which has been known to happen before.  Sometimes I get Ricky and Deborah to put away fifty things with me and they’re pretty cute–like when they put dirty clothes into my clean clothes baskets or drop glass cups into the sink and shatter them.

Anyway, it really helps if I start to get a little overwhelmed, or if I just don’t want to do anything at all.  And at the end of the day, I walk through my house and go, “Wow!  This house is clean cleaner.”

Maybe reading a book doesn’t get you excited.  Maybe for you it will be watching ten minutes of a show, or jumping on a tramp, or eating a candy bar (although I’m not sure how Weight Watchers would feel about you eating seven candy bars a day.  It might work as long as that’s all you eat, but then I’m not a dietician so don’t quote me on that.)  Whatever it is, there has to be some little reward to keep the cycle going.

What’s amazing is how effective this strategy is and how often I forget to use it.  Like I will be feeling a bit scattered in mid-afternoon, and I will think, the cycle, the cycle!  Get on the cycle!

It’s truly pretty scientific.  I have figured out that if I put away 200 things a day, I stay on about par with where I was yesterday.  If I do 350, then I’m pulling ahead.  If I do 500, then—well I’ve never actually done 500, but I bet you it would be totally awesome.  I don’t know what your magic number is—it probably depends on how many kids you have and how sloppy you are, but you’ll figure it out pretty quick, that magic number that keeps your head above water.

Here’s a few of my rules.

Unloading the dishwasher counts.  I count each piece I put away.

Loading the dishwasher counts too.  Dishes get counted twice, but that’s o-kay.

Putting my make-up on counts.  I hate putting on my make-up, but I count one for base, two for mascara, three for eyeliner . . .

Wiping a counter gets a point.  Wiping a big counter gets two points.

Putting clothing on my children counts.  I’m putting things where they belong and right now, a pair of socks, a pair of jeans, and a shirt belong on Ricky.  Yes, he’s six, and he still cannot dress himself.

Each item I put away in my laundry counts. A pair of socks gets two points because well, there are two of them.

Making a business phone call gets five points.  Calling the cable company gets fifteen points.  Calling the DMV gets fifty.

Oh, and also, I try to put away/throw out twenty-five pieces of paper a day.

What is your key to sanity?

Share if you care.  The Facebook link is right below.

An Apostle of the Lord Comes to Visit

Yesterday was very special because an apostle of the Lord came to visit our church.  Our church has a prophet and twelve apostles who are special witnesses of Jesus Christ.  The apostle who came was Elder Russell M. Nelson.  A visit from an apostle is very rare–it might happen once every five or even twenty years.  The apostles travel constantly to meet with the members, but with a world-wide membership of over 13 million people, they are needed in many places.

I told my children that it was like having Peter, James, or Paul come visit us.

Because close to 4000 people would be attending this meeting, we went an hour and a half early to get good seats, and we got there at 8:30 a.m.   I couldn’t believe we pulled it off.

I did not even see Elder Nelson come in, but when I looked up, (after instructing one of my children yet once again on the meaning of the word reverence), I saw him looking directly at me.

I was amazed at the direct line of vision I had to him.  It was almost like we were the only two in the room.  And I knew then that he really was an apostle of the Lord.  I felt in his eyes understanding, love, compassion—like somehow, he understood me, a mother of five challenging children.

I felt through him the love of my Savior.  I felt that the Lord knew that while I struggle, he is pleased with me.  He knows I am trying my best.  He loves me.

And that is a very special message indeed because I so often feel inadequate.   I often don’t feel like I know what I’m doing.

But Elder Nelson gave the most beautiful talk on what we need to teach our children.  It’s reassuring that to know that really when it comes down to it, there are some basic truths are children need to know.  Elder Russell M. Nelson then left us all with a blessing which is probably to sacred to share on this blog, but again I felt so much love from my Savior.  I felt his peace and acceptance.  Now if only I can feel that all the time.

In Sync, Out of Sync Mom

As moms, we often feel out of sync.  Like when you try to take your children on a walk and

you can’t find a shirt for the baby

and you go down to the laundry room to find one

and then you can’t remember where you put her pants

and then you get out new pants and dress your baby

and then you find the misplaced pants and must put them away

and then you put on your baby’s hat

and then you can’t find your sunglasses

and then you need to dress your three-year old

and then your baby escapes onto the fresh snow in her tights

and then you change your baby again and bring her downstairs

and then you can’t find her coat

and then you go back upstairs to get it

and then your three-year old wants oatmeal again

and then your baby takes off her hat

and then you put it on again, tightly

and then she protests

and then when you finally walk down the driveway, your three-year old sneezes

and then you must go back to get a Kleenex

That, at least, is how my morning went.  Total time to get ready for walk:  55 minutes.

But there are a few things that are in sync, and even though the rest of your life isn’t put together, you know you are still meant to walk that path no matter how hard it is to get started. 

My in sync moments in the last 24 hours are few, but I’ll claim them-

Ricky looked smashing this morning.  His hat and his sock matched his shirt, and I didn’t even plan that.

Ricky is certainly the chairman of the board at home

Even his socks match!

Davy is learning about the 7 Habits in school.  Today I signed on the goals he’s made for himself.  I’m telling you, it’s meant to be. 

Insomnia threatened to ruin another good night’s sleep, but I saw Ben Franklin on my nightstand.  I started to read it and went right to sleep.  It’s better than Tylenol PM.

One other wonderful thing happened, but I’ll be sharing that story with you in the next few days-

The Joy in Changing Diapers

Tonight, my husband and I came home from a commitment and the babysitter told me that little Caroline hadn’t gone down.  I hurried to her room.  My suspicions were confirmed.  She had a very bad diaper and red bottom.  My heart broke!  She had been suffering for a few hours.

I got her out of the diaper immediately and put her into the tub.  She was disoriented and miserable, and I couldn’t wait to get her cleaned up.   She needed two baths, and while the first bath was draining, she trembled and cried.   She calmed down after she was finally dressed again in warm pajamas.  She was so tired.  I sat in our ugly rocking chair and rocked her.  It squeaked and squeaked.  WD40 is only the beginning of what the chair needs.  But Caroline put her arm around my neck and completely relaxed, and then I relaxed too.  What is a moment like that worth?  It’s at least worth one bad diaper.