Last weekend Ryan and I went on a one-on-one mommy date to Walmart for ice cream bars and a Redbox movie. When we got out of the car he reached for my hand–a rarity for my big boy six-year old.

“So, holding hands, huh?” I casually asked, as we walked toward the store.

“Yeah, that’s what you do on a date,” he replied.

Melt my heart. It was a nice surprise and I willingly held onto my boy’s hand.

“Plus, we’re in a parking lot,” he quickly added.

Ha. See, I knew there had to be more to it than just wanting to hold mommy’s hand!

{Movie date with Ryan}

Talking to a friend recently who’s grown kids are starting to leave home, and she was telling me it feels like she was just in my place “a minute ago” and how it all goes so fast. I hear this constantly, especially from older ladies at the grocery store, and ironically, it’s usually at times when someone’s throwing a tantrum or picking their nose, or teasing their sister, and my tendency is to want to roll my eyes. Really, it all goes so fast? You want them for a few days?

But then times like a date with my now-big boy happen, and I look back and choke back tears and think, gosh, what happened to my tiny baby?

A mantra I have hanging in our living room (via Gretchen Rubin) to remind me, every day:

‘Cause I swear that was just a minute ago.

Here’s what I’m wondering from you moms–is it worse (more emotional) to see your oldest growing up, or will I feel this way with ALL of them?!

Hi! My name is Pam and I believe no matter who we are or where we come from, we all have a story to tell. My blog is the place I tell mine. My story isn’t always as organized as I’d like, but the truth is, life is full of rough drafts, isn’t it? If you think this might be a good place to hang out, why not subscribe to my RSS feed so you don't miss anything?

I feed my kids boxed macaroni and cheese.

I know, I know. And not even organic–just the good ole’ classic blue box-kind. Because here’s my reality– (or justification, if you want to call it that!). I have four little kids, and a limited budget, even less time, and bazillion things to do. And so in order to do what works for me, I do things that are inexpensive, fast, and simple. And maybe I even incorporate some no-brainers, like boxed macaroni and cheese.

Blogging has opened up this whole new world of satisfying our nosy tendencies–of letting us peek into each other’s lives, observing how other people live, seeing what they say works for them–even what they buy at the grocery store and eat for dinner. I love reading blogs and getting to know other people through their daily lives. I’m inspired to read about what they did on Friday night’s date, how they organize their closets, what they’re doing to encourage their potty-trainer.

But I also have to set a limit to my blog reading, because I think reading blogs can be a bit like watching soap operas. It can be way too easy to to start feeling like our lives inadequate, like our boxed macaroni and cheese can’t possibly be good enough because such-and-such mom feeds her kids homemade pasta made from organic wheat she grew in her backyard greenhouse.

My point is this. Just because something works for me–like boxed macaroni and cheese–doesn’t mean it will work for you. And what’s important to me, might not be important to you. And that’s okay.

We women need each other. We need different personalities, different talents, different parenting styles, different menus, different ages, different different stages of life, different experiences.We need macaroni, and we need cheese.

But hopefully, despite our differences, we can support each other in this journey–and jump in the pot together.

Our family always gets a lot of looks when we go out. I’m sure it’s because our kids are so strikingly adorable that people can’t help but stare(!), but in all reality it’s probably because Jared and I both look too young to have four kids. And as if looking too young to have four kids didn’t attract enough attention, add breastfeeding to the mixture, and I become a one-woman freak show.

It’s one of the things that surprised me the most when we moved here because where I grew up, large families, stay-at-home moms, baking bread, scrapbooking, and breastfeeding were all normal–and not at all granola. We called it “family -centered” and “homemaking” and “self-reliance.” And, I don’t know, I’d kinda like to think I’m still a cute, hip(ish?) mom even though I have a brood of babies, make jam, clip coupons, and aspire to make dinner most nights.

So imagine my surprise when Lydia was born and my doctor and nurses were amazed that I was planning to breastfeed instead of starting her out on a bottle. That I had nursed my other three babies as well, that Lyddie latched right away, and that I fervently pumped to keep my milk supply while they had her on formula during her extended hospital stay.

It kinda seemed weird to me that I was the weird one because I thought studies were saying [when possible] “breast is best.”

Then, imagine my further surprise when a few weeks later I got a call from a nutritionist. They were looking for a “peer counselor,” preferably an “experienced” mom to serve as a testimony and an encouragement to new or hesitant moms. And would I be interested?

Hmmm. Guess being weird and standing out sometimes has it’s benefits?

So this week I’m attending a training so that if a struggling new mom needs someone to talk to–I can be a resource. I’m excited to attend the training, even if it does mean that it’s just to get a few days off housework!

Since I am, as they say, “experienced,” I’ll be the first to say breastfeeding isn’t always a slice of pie, and so this post definitely isn’t meant to preach one way or the other. Bottles and formula were invented for a reason, and by all means, if that’s works best for YOU, use them. Personally, I’ve had good success with nursing, and it’s been my preferred choice for my babies. But I know it’s not always possible, and I’ve also had struggles with poor latch and cracked nipples and low milk supply, so I hope my perspective of with both sides will be able to aid someone else.

My recent survey (if you haven’t taken it, there’s still time!!) showed the majority of my readers are moms with young kids. So I’m curious to know, what were/are your experiences with feeding your babies? Did you try breastfeeding? Why or why not? What challenges or triumphs did you have?

Let’s respectfully discuss.

When Ryan was just a few weeks old I ventured out to do some errands for one of the first times alone. Physically, I was feeling great and was celebrating my new-found freedom after nine months of belly. Mentally though, the exhaustion from having a newborn tolled, and after I filled our gasoline car with diesel fuel, I realized I wasn’t as clearheaded as I thought. An hour stuck in the Walmart parking lot, a visit from a tow truck, and several hundred dollars worth of car repairs later, I made it home safely and all that was injured was my pride. Today we laugh about it, but I don’t think I”ll ever live down that absent-minded moment! Now that Lyddie is a month old, we’re adjusting to life with another newborn, but lack of sleep is something I’m sure I’ll never get used to. People always say “sleep when your baby sleeps,” but with four kids–my baby sleeping means I’m taking care of the other kids, throwing in a load of laundry, pulling dinner out of the freezer, sweeping the floor, returning phone calls, answering e-mails, etc. Naps seem like a luxury, definitely not a necessity! This week I ventured out to do errands for one of the first times on my own with the three girls. Essentially our shopping trip was uneventful, even to the point of patting myself on the back for getting through the store so efficiently and without a single tantrum. I loaded the groceries and the carseats and we were set to go with backseat My Little Pony entertainment when I pushed the key into the ignition and it wouldn’t turn. Not that the car wouldn’t start (as in my diesel-filling nightmare), but the key just wouldn’t budge.

Immediately I thought, “okay, I must be really tired,” and exhaustedly examined my car key, wondering if I was trying to drive home with the wrong one in or put it in backwards, etc. But I couldn’t find any reason for the car not to start. I panicked slightly and called my husband. He was in an appointment and couldn’t answer. I tried again, and again, and again for about 10 minutes, and could NOT figure out a reason the key wouldn’t turn. In my head I was desperately praying, yet trying to remain calm so the girls would stay calm. Finally I turned to my four-year-old.

“Emmy, I can’t get the car to start. Maybe we should say a prayer.”

I didn’t tell her I’d spent the last 10 minutes praying or that I was genuinely worried. The girls folded their arms around their ponies and bowed their heads while I said a sincere but simple prayer. Then I asked Emmy to say one too.

“Heavenly Father, please help start the car,” she prayed, completely trusting her prayer would start the car, and completely trusting her mom to get her home safely so they could go back to playing ponies.

After a few more key jiggles and an eventual return call from Jared, the key finally turned in the ignition as if the past 20 minute struggle hadn’t existed. The girls went back to their ponies, my husband went back to his appointment, and I drove back home to unload groceries. But my mind didn’t return to the exhausted daze I’d been in, and I became humbly aware with the reminder that I have the responsibility to not just physically get my kids home from the grocery store, but to teach them the things they need to get them Home–to our Father’s Home–safely.

“Teach me all that I must do, to live with Him someday.”

Throughout this whole pregnancy I was scared. Four kids sounded so overwhelming to me.

But now that she’s here, I can’t imagine not having her be part of our family. I’m forever amazed at how much wiser God’s plan is.

We were in the hospital for six days. I’m so happy to be home, but am moving really slow and have spent most of the time since we’ve been home glued to the couch with lots of medicine and a heating pad. Thank goodness for an amazing husband who has stepped up and picked up the pieces of everything I can’t. And for sweet friends who have brought yummy food and taken care of my kids, and especially for the many kind thoughts and prayers.

Lydia Rae has arrived!

December 5th, 6:04 pm

7 pounds, 6 ounces

***

It was a difficult labor so I may need some extra time to recover, but will be back as soon as I can!

With less than three weeks until my due date, we kept our Thanksgiving really casual with just our little family of soon-to-be-six. Jared and I attempted to sleep in (meaning we didn’t set the alarm) but awoke much earlier than desired under a giggling dogpile of children who had helped themselves to a box of Chex and were ready to play.

We cooked a frozen pizza for lunch, watched Netflix movies, and put together a new-to-us ( $60 flea market score!) set of bunk beds for the girls before making a pumpkin pie, whipping up some instant mashed potatoes, and heating a frozen chicken & stuffing casserole for Thanksgiving dinner.  

Initially I was pretty pouty about the whole plan, whining that it just didn’t feel like Thanksgiving without a glutenous turkey dinner with family and friends and stuffing our faces with way too much pie before a long afternoon nap. But my husband is wise and good at bringing me back to reality at times I need it and this year–with this gigantic pregnant belly and extended family 2,000 miles away–a casual Thanksgiving was best.

Some things I was especially thankful for this weekend:

• Children who’ve learned how to get their own bowls of breakfast cereal (oh how I hope that doesn’t mean I’m becoming a “stay-in-bed mom!”)
• A full freezer
• A handy husband (the flea market bunks were ugly, but with a good sanding and a few coats of paint they’re looking awesome!)
• A comfy couch (the only way I can sleep these last pregnant days)
• Peppermint ice cream
• Continued Etsy sales and faithful blog readers
• Serity’s easy transition from the crib to her new “big girl bed”
• Late November rain (versus snow)
• Six-year-old love notes

This is post is part of the series: 31 Days of Intentional Parenting. Find all the posts in this series here.

When we moved across the country to Kentucky, Jared drove the moving truck, and I drove along side in our car. It took us five days to make the drive with (then) two little kids and a very uncomfortable pregnant mama. I’m not sure we would do it that way again, but you learn by experience, right?

During that road-trip we had to be creative in order to keep the kids entertained and Jared showed Ryan how to “ask” a semi truck to honk by pumping his arm up and down in a “honking” motion. Then four-year old Ryan was fascinated and spent incredible amounts of that long cross-country drive staring out the window waiting for us to pass a semi so he could encourage the truck to honk for him. His head barely came above the bottom of the car window so most truck drivers couldn’t see him, but when he did get an occasional honk, the success was enough to fuel him for the next round of semi trucks.

Shortly afterwards we bought a second family car–this one with tinted windows–making it now impossible for truck drivers to see Ryan’s honk requests. Last week our family left our small, country town and headed to the big city for the day. We had plenty of freeway to cover, making semi-truck-honking-requests ample for my six-year-old as well as his four- and two-year-old sisters. Even though we reminded them the windows were too dark for the truck drivers to see through, the three kiddos attempted anyway–holding out for the hope of a good, deep honk. But after the fifth or sixth unsuccessful request we could tell they were disappointed.

We were coming up on yet another truck on my passenger side when Jared suggested I “ask” the driver to honk.

“No,” I shyed away.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah. There’s a big difference between a kid and an adult asking for a honk.”

“Come on, do it for the kids. Be a silly mommy.”

“You do it.”

“The truck’s on your side. He can’t see me. Come on, I’ll slow down as we pass.”

And so Jared slowed, and I looked over at the friendly-looking truck driver, who looked back at me, (as my kids are fervently making honking motions behind me) and I smiled as we passed.

“Pam!” he whispered. “Did you chicken out?”

“Ugh, it’s just so embarrassing.”

“Do it,” he egged.

I didn’t want to. But I also knew he wasn’t going to back down (and the kids weren’t going to give up pumping their little arms until they got a honk), so when the next opportunity came and Jared slowly passed, I took a deep breath (avoided looking at him in fear of chickening out again), turned toward the old truck driver, sweetly smiled, and motioned for him to “honk.”

For a brief second my self-fulfilling prophecy came true. My cheeks flushed hot when when the old man gave me one of the dirtiest looks I’ve ever seen and rolled his eyes. But then, then–he blared his horn as we passed.

Jared and the kids roared in excitement.

“He honked for us!! He saw us!!” cheered the kids, oblivious to Jared’s encouragement and my inner conflict.

I looked over at my husband who was beaming. I looked back at the kids, still congratulating themselves for having “achieved” a honk. The enthusiasm spread and I started laughing and shrugged off the embarrassment. So what if the old man was annoyed?

The happiness of my children was well worth it.

{Tough Trucks, Black and White Type, Sanded Solids, Newsies by Jacque Larsen}

It’s been hard for me to want to write about intentional parenting lately, because I feel like I haven’t been very intentional. At 33 weeks pregnant–my body is gigantic, my energy-level is minimal, and keeping up with the chaos is overwhelming. It seems we are coasting in survival mode with too much TV, frozen pizza, and a messy house.

I was on the verge of emotional and physical exhaustion and was ready to crawl in my bed with a bag of the “trick-or-treating” chocolate when when Jared took me on a rare (away from home) date this weekend. It wasn’t anything fancy, but having the motivation to step out of my yoga pants, put on some new eyeshadow, and have the car door opened for me was just the boost I needed to rejuvenate.

I feel like I’m a better mom, a more intentional mom, when I take a break. Sometimes it’s actually leaving the house (grocery shopping my myself is one of my favorite things to do!), and sometimes it’s closing my bedroom door and working on a project that’s just for me. How about you?

What do you do to recharge your parenting battery?

This is post is part of the series: 31 Days of Intentional Parenting. Find all the posts in this series here.

One day Ryan came home from school very interested in “working out” so I took the kids to an outdoor track where he could run around and “build his muscles.”  On the way there I was curious about the the sudden increased interest in exercise.

“Have you been talking about exercise in PE?” I asked.

Then he casually explained he wanted to start working out because his football-playing classmate accused him of having “no muscles.”

Although my six-year old didn’t seem hurt by the comment, a mommy-bear instinct came out because I’ve been so worried about starting Ryan in school a year younger than most of his classmates. Since he’s younger, he’s smaller than many of the other kids. While we walked on the track, I calmly reminded him that people come in all shapes and sizes, but that his brain was big!!

And then I let the comment bother me the rest of the day.

Later that night as Jared and I had our five-minute talk, we discussed my continued concern for Ryan’s small-for-his-grade-size. Jared related the conversation he’d had with our son as he tucked him in at bedtime, and assured me Ryan’s feelings weren’t harmed.

“He knows who he is,” my husband said.

It’s a simple example–but for me, illustrates an important principle. As much as I want to shelter my kids from being hurt, I know there will be many, many times in their lives when they’re criticized, teased, or even bullied. It happens to all of us. Since moving them to the middle of nowhere, cutting them off from contact of the “evil world”, and protecting them from all hurt and disappointment isn’t practical or even good for them, I feel I can be an intentional parent by arming them with a shield of self-respect. For our family, it means teaching our kids that they are children of a Heavenly Father, that everyone is unique in their talents and abilities, and that we all have something to offer.

It seems to me so many problems could be solved if our kids truly understand who they are, what potential they have, and that no matter what others think or say–they have divine worth. And that everyone around them does too.

As Jared and I were having our nightly “five minute chat” I was stressing out that I was three days behind in my blogging series. And then here’s the thing he taught me about intentional parenting. When you are trying–really trying–real life gets in the way, and blogging has to take a step back, even if you are planning to write for 31 days straight.

And that’s exactly what happened this weekend. Instead of making time for writing, I spent the time hanging out with my husband and little people.

Instead of writing, Jared and I had an at-home date with friends, pizza, homemade apple crisp and ice cream, games, and late night laughs.

We went to the park for a picnic, ate fried chicken and fruit salad, and played horseshoes.

We went to our favorite local farm for a hayride to the pumpkin patch where we experienced a first bee-sting, chose perfect carving gourds, and indulged in pumpkin swirl ice cream.

We went to church, and took lazy Sunday afternoon naps, played Legos, baked mint brownies, and read Charlotte’s Web.

Yep, this weekend, real life happened, all of us together. But that in my opinion, is what intentional parenting is all about.

This is the eighh post in the series: 31 Days of Intentional Parenting. Find all the posts in this series here.

While doing our usual Monday morning grocery shopping Emery spotted the most beautiful shade a four-year-old-could-imagine bottle of purple nail polish.

“Mommy!” she gasped. “Can we get this?”

I usually have a rule that we don’t ask for treats, toys, etc. at the grocery and was pretty focused on my list and the budget and the task so my first thought was to say no and continue down the aisle. But then, because I’m trying to practice listening to my kids better and slowing down a bit, I caught myself and leaned down to examine the bottle of polish with her.

“WOW. Isn’t that so pretty? Would you paint your fingers or your toes that color?”

Realizing I had this moment I could spend with my middle child, I checked the price tag. (I even had a coordinating coupon!)

It cost me $1.36 for a bottle of nail polish, but gained me a priceless mommy-daughter afternoon activity that I almost missed out on just because I was so busy with my list. A reminder to slow down and occasionally, ditch the list.  Because there will always, always be more to do, but there won’t always be four-year-old nail-painting parties.

This is the seventh post in the series: 31 Days of Intentional Parenting. Find all the posts in this series here.

A few months ago our family took a Saturday outing the the home improvement store to get some stuff to–you know, make home improvements. After our shopping trip Jared and I were busily working on our project when we noticed Ryan playing with a handful of nuts and washers. Afraid they were important parts to something, I questioned our then-five-year old about where the hardware came from.

He was silent for a minute, then with a bowed head quietly admitted he’d taken them from the store and showed us the additional pieces stashed in his pocket.

Immediately, but gently, my husband, Jared, told Ryan to go put his shoes on. I shot him a questioning look and he replied to both of us, “We’re going to take the washers back to the store. They don’t belong to us.”

I have to admit, at that point going back to the store was not my first thought. We were in the middle of a project, and it would cost more in gas and time to drive back to town to return five tiny washers. But Jared was wisely thinking about the lesson to be learned and the long-term consequences.

The next part of the story is that a loving father then took the time out of his weekend project to drive a humble five-year old back to the store to return the hardware. The customer service cashier was reportedly soft, and kind as she knelt to Ryan’s level, accepted the washers and the apology, and confided it had been bubble gum when she was his age.

Honesty is a challenging concept to teach, particularly with how dishonest much of the world seems to be. I believe though, that honesty will always win in the long run.

It’s important to praise kids when they have done something honest. When we sense hesitation in telling the truth, we always remind our kids they will be in less trouble if they tell the truth and then try to stay calm when the truth does come so they will trust us enough to tell the truth again.

Another thing we’ve done to teach our young children honesty is play a game to help them the difference between truth and a lie. It’s simple–just ask them to give a thumbs up when you say something that’s true, and a thumbs down when you say something untrue. (or you could have them say “true” or “not true” instead of thumbs up and thumbs down) Vary the examples, some serious, some silly to gauge whether they understand the difference. For example:

• “The sky is green.” (thumbs down)
• “Candy tastes sweet.” (thumbs up)
• “We see with our ears.” (thumbs down)
• “Chickens lay eggs.” (thumbs up)
• Then illustrate with age appropriate behaviors, for example, cut a piece of paper and say, “I didn’t cut the paper.” (thumbs down)

In all though, I’m pretty sure the best way to teach honesty is through example. It doesn’t matter how many times we teach them to tell the truth if they see us telling lies ourselves.

Kids learn what they live.

This is the sixth post in the series: 31 Days of Intentional Parenting. Find all the posts in this series here.

Last week I took the girls to the doctor and the nurse asked how much TV they watch in a day. I instantly had this mommy-fail moment when I realized, wooooow, they watch way more than I’d like, and probably more than is “recommended.” My first thought was to explain that it’s because this has been a really tough pregnancy, blah, blah, blah, and that “normally” they watch less–but the excuses don’t really matter because I know I need to do better.

To my kids amazement, I grew up without TV, video games weren’t allowed, and the internet wasn’t yet, so my siblings and I entertained ourselves by going outside, reading books, playing games, doing craft projects, and using our imaginations.

I don’t think all TV is evil, and my kids have learned a lot from great websites like Starfall, and ABCya. But there is definite value in limiting screen time, encouraging imaginative play, and of course reading.

I’m curious, what’s your family’s philosophy on “screen time?”

This is the fourth post in the series: 31 Days of Intentional Parenting. Find all the posts here.

When I was in high school I had a friend who always went straight home after school–who wanted to go straight home after school instead of going somewhere to hang out. It seemed weird to me until he invited me over one day. When we got there, his mom was warm and friendly as we sat at the kitchen bar while she made dinner. We ate brownies and we did our homework, and chatted–with his mom, like best friends. He had the kind of home where kids–teenagers wanted to be.

My husband, Jared, has similar memories of his own childhood. He talks about times where he sat on the bar stool, talking to his mom in the kitchen while she rolled the pie dough. His memories of home are happy, comforting, safe. 

Before we had kids, we often talked about the kind of parents we would be in our “ideal” home, and these comfortable kitchen scenes often came to our minds as we agreed on the desire to have the kind of home where our kids would want to be. (And having a breakfast bar wouldn’t be too bad either!) When our kids are teenagers, we want them to be comfortable inviting over friends. We want them to think it’s cool to hang out with their family and to feel so accepted and loved in their own home that they don’t feel a need to give into peer pressure just to “fit in.”

I realize this all sounds very idealistic, but hey, it’s my dream, and you should always dream big.

Since my kids are little, we’ve got a ways to go before those high school years, but I still think a lot about what we need to do now to prepare for those days. Because I think what Jared and do now, as intentional parents, is what will lay the physical and emotional foundation for those later years.

The way I picture it at this stage is snuggling with a favorite blanket after a bad dream, having family dinners together, talking with them about their six-, four-, and two-year old days (and actually listening!), going out for ice cream, playing Chutes and Ladders (for the hundredth time), saying prayers and reading scriptures together, laughing at their silly jokes–the kinds of things that will help them feel safe, loved, and accepted.

Am I naive enough to think there won’t be outside influences, that they won’t want to spend time with friends, or that they’ll always confide in me? No. But I do hope that that we, as parents, can build the kind of relationships with our kids so that we–not the TV characters or their friends–become their heros. So that when (not if) the peer pressure and other challenges come–we are the ones to slay their dragons, and that they will feel safe coming home for refuge.

There’s a popular analogy that goes like this,

A teacher showed a large glass jar to his class. He proceeded to fill the jar with large rocks, then asked, ”Is the jar full?” They agreed that it was.

Then he picked up a box of pebbles, poured them into the jar, and shook lightly. The pebbles rolled between the rocks. Not quite full.

Next the teacher picked up a box of sand and poured that over the large rocks and pebbles. The sand filled all the empty spaces. Then the teacher explained this was an illustration of our life. If we place the sand (the “small stuff”) first, there will not be room for the large rocks (the most important things). But if we prioritize, and place the big rocks first, we can fit much, much more.

This is definitely more of a do-as-I-say-and-not-as-I-do concept, because prioritizing (placing my big rocks first)  is something that I usually struggle with. In the back of my mind I know though, if I’m keeping my priorities straight, I’m acting as a more “intentional parent” and my kids (who I say are my “priorities”) are less likely to hear, “not right now, maybe later, when I finish…”

There will always be time for catching up on e-mail, and washing the dishes, but there won’t always be time for tea parties, bug hunts, and snuggles during storytime, so those are the big rocks that must come first.

*****

If this is your first time here, scroll down to read day one. Otherwise, here are the links to the other 31 day posts:

1. Love Your Spouse
2. Place the Big Rocks First
3. Slay Their Dragons
4. Read. A lot.
5. Limit the Media
6. Teach Them Honesty
7. Ditch the List
8. Real Life Happens
9. Establish Traditions
10. Put Them to Work
11. Cookie and a Bookie
12. Teach Them Who They Are
13. Get Involved in Their Education
14. Take a Break
15. Make Them Smile
16. Candy

*****

Day One:

One day last week I was at the grocery store, three kids and a gigantic pregnant belly in tow, trying to manage my list and coupon binder while manuevering the cumbersome “car” cart my kids had begged for but would not stay seated in. True story that it’s not a scene I enjoy creating, however, this is my life, sometimes my husband works late nights, and milk always runs out at inconvienent times.

It never fails, times like these are when a passerby also comments. It varies a bit, but is typically something along the disapproving lines of “these ALL yours?”  I always bite my tounge, keep a smile, and find something witty to say like, “actually I left the other four at home!” But this particular day I was feeling extra hormonal and my husband soon received a blubbering phone call with me wondering ”what the heck we’re doing having a FOURTH?”

Jared is good about bringing perspective and he calmly reminded me, “if anyone knows what it’s like to not be in charge of how many kids we have, it’s us. (None of my seven pregnancies were “planned.”)

And so remembering that it really doesn’t matter what people say, we just love these munchins to pieces and do the best we can to raise them, because parenting is a gift and repsonsibility we’ve been trusted with.

It’s definitely not a ”light” responsibility though and the act of having kids doesn’t necessarily make you a mom (or dad) just like having a piano doesn’t necessarily make you a musician. It takes a lot of hard, hard work. I wholeheartedly believe that, “no amount of success can compensate for failure in the home” (David O. McKay) and it’s been on my mind a lot as we’ve been preparing for our newest addition to arrive in just a couple of months.

So when The Nester issued a challenge to write about one subject for 31 days, I decided it would be good for me to write about intentional parenting.

This is not to say that I have any idea what I’m talking about when it comes to parenting or that I have a bunch of information to share. And it’s certainly not meant to be a 31 day crash course on being a perfect parent. But you know how if you have to explain something to someone you tend to learn it/understand it better yourself? It’s a little trick I used with my struggling first graders in the pre-mommy days. I’d pair the struggler up with someone and ask them to teach the concept. By golly, those strugglers learned quite well when asked to perform!

So I guess this is similar. . . writing about being an intentional parent for 31 days will hopefully help me become a better mom as I gather and share a collection of ideas, thoughts, and goals.

Read more 31 Days of Intentional Parenting posts:

1. Love Your Spouse
2. Place the Big Rocks First
3. Slay Their Dragons
4. Read A lot.
5. Limit the Media
6. Teach Them Honesty
7. Ditch the List
8. Real Life Happens
9. Establish Traditions
10. Put Them to Work
11. Cookie and a Bookie
12. Teach Them Who They Are
13. Get Involved in Their Education
14. Take a Break
15. Make Them Smile
16. Candy

Since we are both very busy with work, community, and church responsibilities on top of our regular family priorities, Jared and I try to talk about our weekly schedule every Sunday night. When we do it helps us make plans and try to support each other in what’s going on. (*Try* being the keyword there.)

So as we talked this week, I realized it was going to be a particularly hectic week since we have something scheduled every night. Maybe that’s normal for most families, but for me, I’d rather spend the evenings quietly at home reading a book, scrapbooking, or watching Netflix re-runs and eating brownies with Jared. That not being the case this week, I knew I needed to make some plans help the week run smoother.

Since I’ve chosen to make blogging a priority–on weeks like this–I rely on the ability to schedule posts in advance. So on Monday afternoon during kiddo nap/quiet time I drafted out several posts– thoughts on happiness, a flea-market shelf makeover, a tutorial of a new chore chart, a cute Etsy shop to introduce, and an oooey-gooey sticky bread recipe. Having the drafts ready to go, I was feeling productive and warrior-ready to conquer the busy week.

Tuesday’s thoughts on happiness posted according to schedule as I made the breakfast oatmeal and helped Ryan get ready for school. But then actually practicing the happiness I committed to was immediately challenged with a hormonal arguement with Jared, an inrepairable shattered laptop screen, and Emmy’s experimental cheek-length mullet which she thought would solve the problem of her hair “blowing in the wind.”

As the day continued on, rather than feeling “happy,” productive, and confident–as I wanted to feel as I prepared for the night’s PTA meeting, I was drained, emotional and frustrated. ”Acting the way I wanted to feel” is a lot harder than it sounds!

Days like this I call “two-scoop days.” Not that ice cream is the way to happiness, or that it’s a good idea to fill emotional needs with food, but sometimes, just sometimes, doesn’t it just make things seem a bit more manageable?

Thank goodness for tomorrow in which I’ll try again to make happiness a habit.

I hate this thought–but maybe acknowledging it is the first step to changing it. . . .I’m a glass is half-empty kind of person.

There. I said it.

I don’t mean to be, and I don’t think or see myself that way. And certainly don’t want to be.

But recently I was informed–more than once (and not in in such a nice way)– that I am too negative. That I don’t smile enough. That I don’t seek out the positive. It hurts and it’s a hard truth for me to take in–especially when I thought I was doing okay “keeping it together.” But when I look past the defensiveness and truly look at myself, I can see that I do find it easier to grumble than to be grateful, to criticize rather than praise, and to argue rather than accept.

I was listening to Dr. Laura the other day and she said something that has been on my mind since:

It hit me in a way I needed, because I’d never really considered that being happy was a habit–just like brushing my teeth and making the bed and planning our weekly meals. And when I do consider happiness as a habit, it puts things into perspective–places the control and the responsibility for my bad attitude on me, and removes the blame from things that are going on around me. Whether I like it or not!

I’ve been reading The Happiness Project, where Gretchen says to “act the way you want to feel.” So today I’m remembering my happiness is a choice and that in order to make it a habit I need to act the way I want to feel. . .

. . .  by turning that frown “upside down!”

If You Chance to Meet a Frown from Pam Odd on Vimeo.

Recently a super sweet family asked me to take their pictures. I woke up the morning of needing to puke. But I’m not sure if it was leftover morning sickness or that I was so.darn.nervous. Way too many negative thoughts went through my head. . .it’s a lot of pressure, my camera isn’t great, I’ve never done this for anyone but my own kids,  what props should I take, will they like them?

Jared recognized I was on the verge of breakdown and as I was leaving he gave me the advice  to just keep it simple, and have fun. And so that’s what we did.

After giving them a sneak peek some of my favorite shots, I nervously asked Laura (the mom) how she liked the photos. She loved them. And then she said, “I wish my hair would have cooperated better, but I guess it’s okay, because that’s what I look like! I’m just glad to have pictures of us all together.”

I LOVED her answer and it brought me to reality. I am a mom. I DO attempt to shower, get dressed (in something besides yoga pants) and put on a little mascara almost every day because it makes me feel better and more productive. But I rarely feel “camera ready.” I usually the one behind the camera, and it feels most comfortable there.

But Laura’s comment reminded me that it really doesn’t matter because the point is capturing the memory of us together, not that we look model perfect. Since this is real life I’d like to put my faith on the idea that years from now my kids will look at pictures of us and won’t care that I still had a few pregnancy pounds to lose or that my hair wasn’t flat-ironed, rather they will love that we were together.

I’m linking with Emily and Capturing Motherhood and lots of other moms who are also “embracing the camera,” imperfection and all.

So yesterday as naptime ended, and I looked at the clock.

“Hurry! We have 30 minutes to get to the post office before it closes!”

I triple checked the kids. . .

Faces washed.

Shoes on.

Clean {enough} clothes.

Hair acceptable.

Shoes BACK on.

Carseats buckled.

10 minutes into town (but not yet to the post office) I realized, I HAVE A CAKE IN THE OVEN!

Sigh. Honesty, some days I wonder where my brain is, and if I can REALLY handle four kids. Especially on days I need to go to the post office.

But the cake– that was good.

Hello, blog. Remember me? Yes. I’m back. At least for a visit.

It definitely feels like I have dropped into another world over here, and I frankly can’t think much of what has happened in the past, hmmm. . .SIX WEEKS? Where did May go? It’s all been a blur.

Well, other than the puking.

Or lying on my bed praying I will puke.

Or turning the thousandth movie on for the kids while I go back to my make-shift  bed on the couch and wait for the puking. (Saddest part about this picture? I honestly thought I was smiling for it! No idea I looked as bad as I felt.)

And this lovely scenario–which has pretty much been my lifestory for the past. . .SIX WEEKS is called, “I can’t pretend I have the flu anymore, and yes, we’re having another baby!”

Four. Four kids, in six years.

There are lots of mixed feelings around here, mostly described in words like: surprised, worried, anxious, and “are we crazy?” But trusting this sickness will pass and that there truly is a higher plan for us, there are also feelings of excitement as we prepare to grow our family again.

The kids are particularly excited, especially hoping for another boy which will even out our Odds and give our family three girls and three boys. (Because of course mommy and daddy are considered in their equation.) (And for those of you who know my last name, yes, that was a joke.)

There have been many days I have wanted to step back to the blog and explain my absence, but since I also have a bad habit of wanting to do all or nothing, and knowing I barely had the energy to nuke (which sounds and smells amazingly like the word “puke”) my kids a corndog before dropping back to my couch-bed, blogging has been tucked to the back of my mind. Along with the house cleaning. And just about everything else if we’re being honest.

{What happens when kids are hungry and mommies forget it’s lunchtime.}

I do miss being here to write though, and so thanks to a sympathetic doctor and the miracle of Zofran, I may be able to be around a bit more often. Just sayin’.

{P.S. To all of you who have e-mailed asking where to buy my designs, I deeply apologize for the unprofessional ignorance, and I do hope there will be a day for that again (soon?). Hang with me while I get to feeling a bit normal again.}

One of our favorite books lately is Yes Day, a story about one day of the year in which all of the main character’s requests are granted. Pizza for breakfast? Yes. Staying up late? Yes. Picking the cereal at the grocery store? Yes.

I believe saying “no” is definitely part of healthy parenting, and while my kids may not like it, I have the greater perspective to know established boundaries and reasonable nos are best for them, and best for our family.

Donuts for breakfast? No, that’s not a healthy choice.

Stay up late? No, your body is growing and you need more rest.

Dump every toy we own? I don’t think so! You need clean up as you go.

At the same time, I think there are way too many times I say “no” just because I’m not in the mood, it’s too messy, I’m tired, or busy.

My kids have been asking to have a “yes day” of their own lately, and so I thought spring break would be a good time to grant some wishes. The night before we made a list of everything they hoped to do and they certainly had a lot of requests! I set some boundaries though, and explained that while I was going to do the best I could to say “yes” to the things on their list, it was mommy’s “yes day” too, and so they needed to say “yes” to the things I asked of them as well. The day surprisingly went really well, and we had a very fun, very full day with few tantrums–a huge accomplishment for me with three children under age five.

Just a few highlights from our Yes Day:

Pizza and Popsicles for breakfast? Yes

Help mommy unload the dishwasher? Yes

Blow bubbles? Yes

Watch a movie? Yes

Go to Target and choose a new toy? Yes (with a $ limit)

Go to the fabric store with mommy (and not whine about it)? Yes (well, almost . . .)

Go to the park? Yes

Cooperate while mommy takes pictures? Yes

Play on the computer? Yes

Have a sword fight? Yes

Get Happy Meals? Yes (a BIG deal since we NEVER do this!!)

Go out for ice cream? Yes.

Sometimes I feel like the bad guy because I’m with them all day, enforcing rules, and then daddy comes home and saves the day with tickles and wrestles and romps. So it was good for me to have a day where I could be silly, and spoil a bit, and show them mommies can be fun too.

In fact I loved our day so much we may just make Yes Day an annual spring break tradition!

What about you? Are you a “yes” mom or a “no” mom? Is having a Yes Day something you’d like to try?

Between the three little ones, all day I hear some version of,

“Mommy, will you. . .”

While I say my family is my “top priority,” all too often it’s easy for me to get caught up with my “to-do” list:  finish my e-mail/blog post, fold the laundry, wash the dishes, clip coupons, make dinner, work on my designs, return phone calls, plan my church lesson, etc. And then my kids get answers like. . .

I’ve been really bad about letting my list busy my day, and then missing the joy of my kids’ creativity and innocence. And I don’t want to be that kind of mom. Not that I’m necessarily the BEST mom, but since I am their mom, I want to be the best I can be and give them my presence rather than just presents. It’s part of my goal to “prosper” this year. Because I don’t want them to remember me as always being too busy.

A wise friend recently reminded me that there will be a day when they won’t want to play with me anymore and that they’ll be too old to think snuggling on the couch and watching cartoons is fun. And that I will miss this.

And really, who are we kidding? My “to-do” list is always LONG and rarely gets checked off. And there is always more work to do. It’s a hard lesson I’m learning, but I’m trying to be better at picking my battles, saying Y-E-S more than N-O, and showing  my family that they really are my priorities. I want to be better about adding THEM to my to-do list. More one-on-one time, more snuggles, more silly mommy.

Have you seen the book “Yes Day?” It’s one of my kiddos’ favorites. We had our own “yes day” last week during spring break. More details tomorrow! Have a happy Monday.

Friendly Faces by Jacque Larsen; He Said, She Said quote bubbles by me

This week I’ve been busy. . .

hanging out

hunting for dandelions

eating too many scoops of ice cream

chasing munchkins at the park

escaping the wrath of the evil pirate king

and working on some special secret projects!!!

Sneak peeks coming next week!!

Have a fantastic weekend!! xoxo

Age wise, Ryan could have started kindergarten in the fall. But since the kid was reading at three-years old, we were worried he’d be BORED. After lots of contemplation, our decision–at the time–became to homeschool, indefinitely. 

A few months ago I started to get a strong, undeniable feeling I needed to get more involved in the community–PTA specifically. The feeling was a bit of a shock because I was really pretty content hanging out in my own little world, staying home with my kids, designing, being active in church. And, um, PTA? You kind of need to have your kids in school to be part of that, right?

Then along with the feeling I should get more involved in the community, I felt we should start looking at schools. I argued with myself for a while because I had committed to homeschooling and was worried I was just getting tired, or burned out, or maybe the winter blahs. And from a selfish, somewhat-snobish, mama-bear perspective, I was worried our son would be overlooked in school because he’s already “up to grade-level.” I knew if I continued to keep him home I could push him at his own learning pace rather than the expected grade-level pace.

For weeks I waffled as Jared and I talked and prayed and made public and private school visits. I finally felt peace after collaborating with the vice principal and discussing the option of enrolling Ryan in kindergarten now–3 months before the school year ends, and then starting him in first grade next year. That way he doesn’t have to completely miss out on the kindergarten experience, but won’t have to sit through an entire potentially boring year.

Yesterday was his first day, and he LOVED it, so I’d say it was a success.

One thing I’ve learned throughout this school enrollment process is that for me, there’s not really a homeschool vs. public school vs. private school debate. Last year when we decided to homeschool I struggled with the decision because I hated having been a homeschooled child. But it was right for our family, at the time, so I invested all I could until it was no longer the right choice.

Now that school is the right choice, PTA . . . here I come??? 

Yesterday when we were making our potato-stamped portraits, Ryan looked over at Emery’s drawings and commented, “Wow, that one has big hands!!” Emmy replied in a knowing voice, “Yeah, that’s cause she’s a mommy!”

While I’m not exactly sure what she meant (I don’t think my hands are THAT big!), it got me thinking about hands, particularly “big hands” and what that could mean for me–the mommy.

It could be that my hands are just much bigger than Emery’s, or that her three-year-old stature only comes hand-high to my body. But I would love to think she sees me as a provider–using my hands to care for her, create for her, hold her. Being generous with my hands is something I strive for.

Rewind to high school when I worked as a waitress at a little deli/donut shop. I loved that job (and the free all-you-can-eat donuts were a nice bonus! It’s amazing I remained a size 5. . . .).

One day after serving a sweet family sandwiches and donuts, I went to bus the table and was shocked to see they’d left me a $20 tip. Since this was the kind of diner where tips were typically $1-2, $5 if it was a big table, $20 was a big deal–especially to me, since I was saving my pennies for college. I don’t remember a whole lot about that family, but the experience has stayed with me–years later–as a lesson in generosity.

Ever since we were dating, Jared and I have talked about wanting to be the kind of people who are generous with what we give. I want to be that kind of person who leaves a $20 tip for a sweet high school waitress, or hands the grocery clerk an extra $100 bill at checkout to help cover the bill of the single mom in line behind me. I want to be the kind of family who spends a month of our summer vacation digging wells in Africa, or gives our Christmas presents to a family who really needs it.

Right now our family is not in the financial position to be very generous with our money–one of the reasons we’re pushing so hard to pay off our debt. But I think generosity can come in different ways, in different seasons, and maybe right now is my season to be more generous with my time, talents, love, or praise. 

This year as our family focuses on “prospering,” it’s become clear to me that if our family expects to prosper, we should expect to be generous–the idea ”where much is given, much is required.” (Luke 12:48.)

And so if that means my ”big hands” are giving hands–I’ll take it.

As I’ve been thinking about enjoying my season more and taking advantage of the time I have with my kids, I’m realizing how seriously I take things and how rarely I smile or laugh these days. I take on too much and then I’m busy, stressed, impatient, and even angry mom. I {obviously} don’t want to be that kind of mom. I want my kids’ memories of their childhood to be of projects we did, games we played, songs we sang, books we read.

One time–a while ago, I watched an episode of Supernanny where Jo (“supernanny”) gave the mom the advice that she needed to get down on the floor more and play more and be “silly mommy.”

THAT is hard for me. I get in this rut where I need to do the dishes and fold the laundry and clip coupons and pay the bills and then when I feel like I got enough on my to-do list done, I’m tired and don’t really want to play Candyland (again). And I certainly don’t feel like being “silly mommy.”

And can we address the fact that being silly mommy is really quite embarrassing for me. . . .

I’ve definitely mastered a {not so impressive} skill called “Caring too much about what other people think.”

Why am I embarrassed to be silly mommy? Who REALLY cares anyway? And if they do, does it really MATTER? Isn’t it more important that my kids are happy, that they grow up remembering the fun times I spent with them, and that they are able to laugh at themselves in difficult situations? (Because, let’s just all admit, this mommy thing is difficult and I’m pretty sure more laughter and silliness would help me out.)

So here’s my new goal: Be okay with being SILLY MOMMY.

And here’s a page I made. . .

(Click for credits)

I think it would be good for me to print it and frame it and hang it somewhere to remind me to laugh and play and goof off a little more.

Here’s my {very basic} plan:

• Schedule in play time WITH my kids in our daily routine
• Sing and dance more
• Make a vision board of silly images to serve as a reminder
• Tickle. Every day.
• Learn some jokes. Oh, and TELL them.
• “Slow and steady wins the race.” (Be consistent)

I’m open to advice. Anyone have any for me?

I feel a constant struggle to balance. Husband, kids, school, home, career, church, hobbies, community. Some days I am so exhausted and overwhelmed I hide in my room and cry because I’m not sure what else to do. After lots of sincere prayers as well as talks with family and friends, I’m beginning to see that I really just CAN’T DO IT ALL.

At least not right now. And that’s okay. My daily tasks or level of busyness don’t define my worth–something I’ve been afraid of for a long time.

My wise mother-in-law said, you CAN have it ALL, it just might not be ALL at once. She has shown me an amazing example of raising a successful, happy family, and then have a fulfilling career.

My dear friend confided she was worried about me burning out. She has shown me an amazing example of simplifying life and putting focus on what’s most important.

And so I’m beginning to see that there is a time and season for everything, and for me, this is my season of cuddling my babies.

A season of reading books and catching caterpillars and singing songs.

A season of planning birthday parties.

A season of rare but must-make-meaningful date nights.

A season of breathing through the tantrums and runny noses and messes and remembering that “this too shall pass.”

And most importantly, a season of enjoying where I’m at, because someday I will miss being here.

{Linking to Heavenly Homemakers}

We hit a big milestone around here. Ryan turned five (birthday party details coming soon!) and got his first bike.

Just like with most things in life, once you learn to ride a bike, you forget how complicated the learning process can be, so it was a bit of a surprise to see him struggle to coordinate his leg muscles as he learned to pedal. There were several times I wanted to step in and give him a push. I hated seeing him so frustrated and wanted to make it easier. But something told me to stand back, be patient, and let him figure it out.

I want so badly for my kids’ lives to be easy, happy, healthy, fulfilling. But I also know that’s not how life works and that there must be opposition if we are to appreciate the good. So while watching Ryan struggle has been difficult, I’m beginning to see how rewarded he feels with his successes.

Maybe letting kids accomplish (rather than doing it for them, or pushing too hard) is a way for them to build true self-esteem.

Proud Mommy Moment

For her to stop nursing.

For her to start walking.

For her to loose her chubby baby cheeks.

For her to grow up!

Wishing this baby time lasted longer. . .

Happy 1st Birthday baby girl!