Mother's Day Eve pretty much consisted of one big, long tantrum. (Two children participated in this tantrum, kindly giving and taking turns with one another. Isn't it interesting the moments in which they actually decide to be generous?)
Mother's Day morning we all overslept. The bishopric decided not to have bishopric meeting, but it was moot because none of us got up until after 8:00, and church starts at 9:00. Even without the usual bishopric meeting, James still had to be to church by about 8:30, and since we all overslept, the time we would have been enjoying his company ended up being the time that he was showering and getting dressed.
The rest of us were 15 minutes late to church.
I spent most of church feeling worried and concerned for the women in my ward who don't have children, and noticing every single insensitive comment made about the holiday. (Some things never change...)
In Sacrament Meeting, I was surprised when the bishop mentioned that Brother G. had gone home sick. I never knew he was sick!
Anyway, that meant that I didn't get to hear his testimony. The one, naturally, that I most wanted to hear. Not that the other speakers (youth and bishopric) didn't give nice talks--they did... but I knew that James would give a deep, sensitive, doctrinal talk that would touch on the needs of ALL women.
I'm not one for sappy, sentimental talks on Mother's Day. Maybe it's a carryover from my childless years, but I just don't want to hear sweet poems and accolades. I want meat! I want to hear about strong women from the scriptures. I want to hear doctrine. I want to hear eternal truths that all women can take from and build upon, not just those who have given birth. Being a mother is not just about being a mommy! It's not just about raising children! It's about who we are, our very beings. ALL of us, not just the ones with a passel of little kids sitting next to us on the bench.
There, off my soapbox now. Whew!
Now, of course, being a Mommy is fun. Well, most of the time...
And I am enjoying some of the fruits of mommy-hood. No doubt about that. Dallin made me a tissue paper flower (formed from his handprints) and a painted ladybug rock at school. And he brought home the funniest collection of little sayings.
My Mom is Special!
My mom is special because she buys me cloes [clothes]. She buys ice cream.
I like it when my Mom cooks cookies.
My mom can do many things! I think she's best at cooking. (My reaction? BWAHAHAHAHA! This from the child who rarely eats anything I make for dinner and tells me often what a terrible cook I am?)
My mom has a pretty smile! I like to make her smile by eating a ccarot [carrot].
My Mom is as pretty as a clock. (????)
My Mom is smart. She even knows more stuff than my Dad. (Go, Dallin!)
M-O-M
Mysterious
Out of this world
Majesty
Ten things I love about my mom:
She is silly.
She is weird.
She is nise.
She is cool.
She is not tity [tidy].
She is skinny. (Well, she used to be...)
She is sweet.
She is clean. (He said this was referring to my body. The "not tidy" part is referring to the house. At least it's seen as a positive, right?)
She is smart.
She is good in history.
How does she make me feel special?
realy, realy, realy, realy, realy, realy, really, realy nise.
So anyway, now we're home. Daddy's in bed, and the rest of us are enjoying a totally typical Sabbath day.
Mother's Day morning we all overslept. The bishopric decided not to have bishopric meeting, but it was moot because none of us got up until after 8:00, and church starts at 9:00. Even without the usual bishopric meeting, James still had to be to church by about 8:30, and since we all overslept, the time we would have been enjoying his company ended up being the time that he was showering and getting dressed.
The rest of us were 15 minutes late to church.
I spent most of church feeling worried and concerned for the women in my ward who don't have children, and noticing every single insensitive comment made about the holiday. (Some things never change...)
In Sacrament Meeting, I was surprised when the bishop mentioned that Brother G. had gone home sick. I never knew he was sick!
Anyway, that meant that I didn't get to hear his testimony. The one, naturally, that I most wanted to hear. Not that the other speakers (youth and bishopric) didn't give nice talks--they did... but I knew that James would give a deep, sensitive, doctrinal talk that would touch on the needs of ALL women.
I'm not one for sappy, sentimental talks on Mother's Day. Maybe it's a carryover from my childless years, but I just don't want to hear sweet poems and accolades. I want meat! I want to hear about strong women from the scriptures. I want to hear doctrine. I want to hear eternal truths that all women can take from and build upon, not just those who have given birth. Being a mother is not just about being a mommy! It's not just about raising children! It's about who we are, our very beings. ALL of us, not just the ones with a passel of little kids sitting next to us on the bench.
There, off my soapbox now. Whew!
Now, of course, being a Mommy is fun. Well, most of the time...
And I am enjoying some of the fruits of mommy-hood. No doubt about that. Dallin made me a tissue paper flower (formed from his handprints) and a painted ladybug rock at school. And he brought home the funniest collection of little sayings.
My Mom is Special!
My mom is special because she buys me cloes [clothes]. She buys ice cream.
I like it when my Mom cooks cookies.
My mom can do many things! I think she's best at cooking. (My reaction? BWAHAHAHAHA! This from the child who rarely eats anything I make for dinner and tells me often what a terrible cook I am?)
My mom has a pretty smile! I like to make her smile by eating a ccarot [carrot].
My Mom is as pretty as a clock. (????)
My Mom is smart. She even knows more stuff than my Dad. (Go, Dallin!)
M-O-M
Mysterious
Out of this world
Majesty
Ten things I love about my mom:
She is silly.
She is weird.
She is nise.
She is cool.
She is not tity [tidy].
She is skinny. (Well, she used to be...)
She is sweet.
She is clean. (He said this was referring to my body. The "not tidy" part is referring to the house. At least it's seen as a positive, right?)
She is smart.
She is good in history.
How does she make me feel special?
realy, realy, realy, realy, realy, realy, really, realy nise.
So anyway, now we're home. Daddy's in bed, and the rest of us are enjoying a totally typical Sabbath day.
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