in the beginning of this whole mother-dying experience, i shut off the part of my brain that would remember the happy things with my mother. and i would try to remember every once in awhile, but not very hard and when i couldn't remember, i'd get frustrated. but with time, i started to remember. and those memories are wonderful. and sad, but mostly wonderful. i thought for mothers' day i'd collect some of them here:
there really weren't any mothers' day traditions in our family. we're a family of card makers and letter writers and so there were, of course, a pile for her every year. when my dad was in the bishopric of his current ward my mom somehow was put in charge of the little gifts that each woman received. she didn't take the job lightly. instead i can remember lots of shopping. we went to see's candies and bought truffles. we went to three crafts stores to find truffle boxes. we assembled the truffle boxes and created a label, printed them out, cut them out and tied them to the boxes.my mom did most of the tying because she wanted-- no needed the bow to look a certain way, but after awhile i caught on and then i was "allowed" to tie the bows, too. in the ward i'm in now we get a candy bar and i'm sorry to say this (mom), but it's just as good. in fact, it's better. because it's bigger (sorry! but i'm just not the kind of girl who can pay close attention to the way something looks. i'd rather it taste good).
there really weren't any mothers' day traditions in our family. we're a family of card makers and letter writers and so there were, of course, a pile for her every year. when my dad was in the bishopric of his current ward my mom somehow was put in charge of the little gifts that each woman received. she didn't take the job lightly. instead i can remember lots of shopping. we went to see's candies and bought truffles. we went to three crafts stores to find truffle boxes. we assembled the truffle boxes and created a label, printed them out, cut them out and tied them to the boxes.my mom did most of the tying because she wanted-- no needed the bow to look a certain way, but after awhile i caught on and then i was "allowed" to tie the bows, too. in the ward i'm in now we get a candy bar and i'm sorry to say this (mom), but it's just as good. in fact, it's better. because it's bigger (sorry! but i'm just not the kind of girl who can pay close attention to the way something looks. i'd rather it taste good).
in the morning when she came into the girls' room to wake us up she'd look for bras that had been left on the floor. and then she would, for as long as we refused to get out of bed, play with our bras. she'd wear them on her head, she'd turn them into purses, she'd parade around our bedroom with the bra on over her clothes and she'd try to use it like a sling, flinging old sock or beanie babies at us until we climbed out.
we loved to watch the office together. on fridays we'd have lunch and watch the latest episode together. ava was just a baby and she learned the theme song really well. she'd perk right up and start dancing. we also loved leverage, lost, the closer and arrested development.
i used to visit her in the hospital when she was getting her iv treatments and we used to talk a little too much and laugh a little too loud.
she used to play these games with the kids where she held a stuffed animal and made it be really mean and bratty. for some reason, that's hilarious. she used to do that with us when we were kids, too. we loved it.
when ava was born my mom came out to "help". she kept saying that she didn't know what she'd do to help, she was too weak to make dinner, or clean the house, or do the laundry. but i wanted her there anyway. when ava was first born she was sick. she had really bad jaundice. when the hospital let her go home they sent her home with lights. the law was to keep her under them whenever she wasn't eating. ava hated this. she fussed and cried and squirmed out of the little mask they gave us to protect her eyes. and it wearied me. i remember holding that little baby and comforting her, knowing i'd have to put her back under those lights and she'd start crying again and my eyes filled with tears. and my mom reached out and rubbed my shoulder and i knew that she understood what i was feeling. and that's when i knew why i'd wanted her to come: i needed moral support. i didn't want someone to come along and do the job for me, i wanted someone to come along and encourage me while i learned to the job myself. and that is what my mother was so darn good at doing. my whole life she taught me how to do things by letting me do them and encouraging me and correcting me when i needed it. my mother taught me to be independent. to take care of myself and others around me. and thank goodness she did, because here i am, pregnant with baby number four. if i don't take care of those children, who will?
my mom loved my babies. she LOVED them. she loved my pregnancies. she was the biggest cheerleader, coming with me to my appointments, wanting to hear all about them. she learned how to deliver a baby, "just in case" (ha! as if she had the strength to. chances are, if we'd been stuck somewhere where i'd have to have the baby i'd be delivering it and helping her find a place to sit down). she bought me a basal thermometer when i wasn't getting pregnant fast enough (for her). she sent bedding, bought clothes, toys. she signed up for the week by week emails so she could see what was going on with the baby. when i labored, she was there, "helping" as best as she could (to be honest, with kate i remember the best help being my dad, who was quizzing me on scripture references. it worked amazingly well to try and remember something instead of focusing on the contraction. in fact, i have a distinct memory of starting a contraction and my dad saying, "pray always and not faint" and i managed to growl through clenched teeth, "2 Nephi 32").
one time i read this quote to my mom while she made her bed: "children in a family are like flowers in a bouquet; there's always one determined to face in the opposite direction from the way the arranger desires." and she walked out of the room laughing loudly.
i started this blog without knowing why, mostly because people told me i should, and i kept it going because of my mom. lots of time was spent in hospital beds or too sick to get out of bed, or kids too sick to come over, and i knew that looking at photos and reading funny stories brightened her day. it's been six years. SIX YEARS! and i'm so grateful she was so motivating. because as embarrassing as it is to read something i wrote when i was feeling clever, it's wonderful to find a place where i write about being a mother and about these children and our adventures together. without my mom this blog would never be. and maybe you don't care about this blog, and maybe my children will melt into embarrassed pools over it in the years to come, but i'm grateful for the little bits of our life it captures. and in some ways it's a bit like therapy; i come, i write down what i'm feeling and then i feel better. of course, if it weren't so public i could write a great deal more down, but that's something i'm going to avoid exploring for now. instead i think i'll publish this post that seriously took me two days to write and go have a homemade oreo (pictures coming soon! because why not follow a post of depth up with a post about food?).
happy mothers' day, mom.
i used to visit her in the hospital when she was getting her iv treatments and we used to talk a little too much and laugh a little too loud.
she used to play these games with the kids where she held a stuffed animal and made it be really mean and bratty. for some reason, that's hilarious. she used to do that with us when we were kids, too. we loved it.
when ava was born my mom came out to "help". she kept saying that she didn't know what she'd do to help, she was too weak to make dinner, or clean the house, or do the laundry. but i wanted her there anyway. when ava was first born she was sick. she had really bad jaundice. when the hospital let her go home they sent her home with lights. the law was to keep her under them whenever she wasn't eating. ava hated this. she fussed and cried and squirmed out of the little mask they gave us to protect her eyes. and it wearied me. i remember holding that little baby and comforting her, knowing i'd have to put her back under those lights and she'd start crying again and my eyes filled with tears. and my mom reached out and rubbed my shoulder and i knew that she understood what i was feeling. and that's when i knew why i'd wanted her to come: i needed moral support. i didn't want someone to come along and do the job for me, i wanted someone to come along and encourage me while i learned to the job myself. and that is what my mother was so darn good at doing. my whole life she taught me how to do things by letting me do them and encouraging me and correcting me when i needed it. my mother taught me to be independent. to take care of myself and others around me. and thank goodness she did, because here i am, pregnant with baby number four. if i don't take care of those children, who will?
my mom loved my babies. she LOVED them. she loved my pregnancies. she was the biggest cheerleader, coming with me to my appointments, wanting to hear all about them. she learned how to deliver a baby, "just in case" (ha! as if she had the strength to. chances are, if we'd been stuck somewhere where i'd have to have the baby i'd be delivering it and helping her find a place to sit down). she bought me a basal thermometer when i wasn't getting pregnant fast enough (for her). she sent bedding, bought clothes, toys. she signed up for the week by week emails so she could see what was going on with the baby. when i labored, she was there, "helping" as best as she could (to be honest, with kate i remember the best help being my dad, who was quizzing me on scripture references. it worked amazingly well to try and remember something instead of focusing on the contraction. in fact, i have a distinct memory of starting a contraction and my dad saying, "pray always and not faint" and i managed to growl through clenched teeth, "2 Nephi 32").
one time i read this quote to my mom while she made her bed: "children in a family are like flowers in a bouquet; there's always one determined to face in the opposite direction from the way the arranger desires." and she walked out of the room laughing loudly.
i started this blog without knowing why, mostly because people told me i should, and i kept it going because of my mom. lots of time was spent in hospital beds or too sick to get out of bed, or kids too sick to come over, and i knew that looking at photos and reading funny stories brightened her day. it's been six years. SIX YEARS! and i'm so grateful she was so motivating. because as embarrassing as it is to read something i wrote when i was feeling clever, it's wonderful to find a place where i write about being a mother and about these children and our adventures together. without my mom this blog would never be. and maybe you don't care about this blog, and maybe my children will melt into embarrassed pools over it in the years to come, but i'm grateful for the little bits of our life it captures. and in some ways it's a bit like therapy; i come, i write down what i'm feeling and then i feel better. of course, if it weren't so public i could write a great deal more down, but that's something i'm going to avoid exploring for now. instead i think i'll publish this post that seriously took me two days to write and go have a homemade oreo (pictures coming soon! because why not follow a post of depth up with a post about food?).
happy mothers' day, mom.
