Right for WHO?

June 1999--Please excuse the overalls. It was 1999!

Recently I wrote an article "Happy to be a mother not a horse." (You can read it HERE.) Clearly, I referenced having had some "baby blues" following the birth of Megan. Fortunately for me, that was the extent of any post-partum blues/depression I ever had. I consider myself very blessed having come through five pregnancies and births hormonally unscathed.  (For the most part!)

Although I will say, whether it was "baby blues" or plain and simply the adjustment to a first child, I did encounter some pretty strong "baby blues" there for two weeks following Megan's birth. Two weeks was it! But oh boy were those a weepy two weeks.

At the time, and certainly since then I can pretty accurately pinpoint the reasoning for my tears and general sadness. It was the nursing/breastfeeding part.

Don't worry-I'm not going to get into the intricate details of breast-infections. But suffice it to say, starting about day 4 of Megan's life, I encountered a nasty infection. Add to it, nursing just didn't seem to be going as well as it seemed to for everyone else around me. I had a handful of friends around me with new babies at the time, of course each one having successful nursing experiences.

One of my dearest, dearest friends had her first baby just four months prior to me. One day while sitting on my forest green leather couch holding my eight day old baby, I chatted with this friend on the phone. She listened as I cried and complained and suggested that nursing just absolutely wasn't for me and I didn't know if I could bear another day opening my shirt to my newborn. In her attempt at wisdom she replied, "You HAVE to nurse. It's the most natural thing to do. You can't give up."

Knowing little else to do, I followed my friend's "advice" for five more days and then one Sunday night, sitting on a bedroom floor with a breast pump attached to my breast and tears rolling down my cheeks, I made MY OWN decision that Megan was going to be a bottle-fed, formula drinking baby!

It seemed in an instant all of the "baby blues" floated away and I felt like I could conquer this whole mothering thing. Despite the million of other new-mom inadequacies and insecurities I felt, I felt confident in this decision. I knew it was the right thing for me, for Megan and for Mike.

Until...

A sweet older lady I visited once a month showed up on my doorstep one evening with "a baby gift." It wasn't anything fancy, just a brown envelope. But she was certain I would treasure the writings inside, some of which were her own and some by others. Sweet Polly assured me she "just knew" I would agree with them all. We exchanged a little chit-chat and I returned to my newborn baby.

At Megan's next feeding (from a bottle I might add) I tore into the envelope for a little light reading. But that little feeding and reading session didn't go quite as planned.

You see inside that legal sized envelope was an article about how the "modern-day baby bottle" has become quite simply "a tool of the devil". Yes. I have remembered it correctly. The article I held in one hand was insinuating that the very bottle I held in my other hand was nothing more than a tool of the devil used to destroy human relationships.

Oh boy was it bad timing.
And I mean bad timing.

Despite the tears falling from my eyes, the fire practically bursting from my tongue and the guilt raging up inside of me, there was some kind of magnetic force that would not allow me to stop reading the article. And so I read on about the author (not the lady who gave the writings to me) who insisted that the only way to have meaningful family relationships was to have a family bed. She, her husband and her six children shared a bed.

**Side-note-Will somebody please explain to me how in the world one gets pregnant with their sixth child when five other children are sleeping in their bed? Never mind. I don't want to know.

This mother went on to explain that though family members may awake at different times in the morning, most often the baby was the last to wake up and was left alone in the bed. To avoid any feelings of insecurity, the second the sleeping baby made a peep, somebody was at it's side and the baby would stay in somebody's arms (or wrapped against the mother's body) during all waking hours. "Baby" meaning until the child was a year or so old! In addition to extolling the virtues of a family bed the article also claimed that anything other than breastfeeding a baby was a sure ticket to feelings of inadequacy and insecurity later in life. Baby bottles were one of the devil's modern day tools used to tear apart families.

I wish I could say I didn't believe a single word written in this article. I wish I could say I scrunched it up, threw it away and never thought about it again. I didn't. I filed the article away, and for months, even years gave this article too much thought.

My BRAIN knew it was simply one person's personal opinion, yet my heart wasn't quite as convinced.

Of course I continued to bottle/formula feed Megan. During Megan's first year of life, I had several friends give birth to their first babies. Every single one of them successfully breast-fed their babies. Their successful attempts at breastfeeding exponentially increased my guilt.

Three years later when I gave birth to Luke, I suffered through nine months of a breast infection, $600 (no exaggeration!) worth of co-pays for dr appointments and medicines, and countless unanswered prayers and priesthood blessings, so he too, wouldn't have to be a "bottle-fed baby".

Three children followed. After seven days, each baby became a bottle/formula fed baby. To say by number five I had rid myself of any breastfeeding guilt would be a lie. I never did.

I can count on two hands the number of times we have had a child on antibiotics, so I have never bought the arguments and studies that say breast-fed babies are healthier. Ellie can out-spell Luke on any of his 4th grade spelling words and that tells me breast-fed babies aren't necessarily smarter than their bottle-fed counterparts.

I'll tell you what is accurate though.
Making the right decision for ME.

Breastfeeding, bottle-feeding, family beds, extra-curricular activities, discipline, family time, finances, you name it. NO ONE can tell me (or you) what is right FOR MY (or your) FAMILY.

I'm going to try harder not to judge others.
Even if the whole family sleeps in the same bed!

A Thank You for a Thank You

Last fall Megan helped our friend out with an open house at her store. Megan was thrilled that she was able to help with face-painting, constructing princess wands, and the clean-up at the end. She was even more thrilled that a Halloween bracelet she had seen in the store was given to her at the end of the night as a 'Thank you.'

By the time Megan got home that evening, she couldn't stop talking about her cute bracelet and how kind it was of Joni to give it to her, and how she didn't expect to have received anything as payment for 'having had fun.' After sufficient oohing and aahing over the bracelet, Megan questioned, "Should I write her a thank-you note for it?"

Ahh-that great lesson in showing thanks, yet receiving thanks.

I asked her if she said thank you when it was given to her, knowing full well she would have. (I never doubt that with Megan. Now some of my other kids are a different story.....) And then I explained that the bracelet was Joni's form of a thank you note, and sending a thank you for a thank you could go on endlessly.

Fast forward six weeks or so to the evening I received the most beautiful, surprising (delicious) delivery. It took me a couple of minutes to see who it was from. When I saw the note, I cried.

It was from our friend Russ, whose wife I wrote about in a blog post here last January and then in November a version of the article was in the Deseret News. (The online article can be read here, the in-print edition would be at the recycling land fill by now.) Russ sent me the delivery as a thank you for my kindness.

When the article was approved for publication in the Deseret News, I was mildly nervous about the obviousness of who it was about. My fears were laid to rest when the day after the article was published, Mike received a text that said,

"Just got a frantic call from my sister who just read the paper. Hug your wife for me and Logan. It is a fantastic article. Way above and beyond."

Mike called Russ, who was clearly touched by the article. And then the next day, my delivery came. 

As I tearfully tried to explain to Mike how touched I was, I kept thinking about how I needed to send Russ a thank you. And then together Mike and I realized, that was exactly what the delivery was. A heart-felt thank you. Even though really, my article was thanking him (and his wife) for a valuable lesson learned.

And while Mike joked about me writing an article about an article, I dilemma-ed about being so filled with gratitude over a thank-you.

Of course I sent an appropriate thank you and acknowledgement for such a thoughtful gesture. Even if it was in a 2011/2012 type way.

Perfect Timing to Sing or Write?

I don't have any control over the timing of my articles that are published in the Deseret News and the timing of them has never mattered to me before. However, today's timing of an article couldn't have been more perfect. Not just for me, but for my entire family. (Well everyone except for Mike!) Here's why:

As I mentioned more than once last year we had ward (our local church congregation) choir practice at our house every Sunday morning during 2011. It was not anyone's favorite thing--but Mike had faithfully volunteered our home and he deserves more credit than any of us for cleaning and readying the house each week for the choir members.

I was very excited to see the end of the year arrive and the end of choir at our house.

My excitement was premature.

Due to a "You might have to be a Mormon to understand" thing, our church times changed January 1st to rotate through two other times with two other church congregations we share our building with. Typically we have only rotated from 9am to 1pm in the past, but the Single Adult Ward has now joined in our rotation and the 11am time slot has been opened up to the "family wards." To make a long story short, that means when our church time is over at 12pm there are NO AVAILABLE CLASSROOMS in the church building for choir to be held.

And my dear husband, who is nary the one to be at a pulpit preaching, but always one to be quietly serving, offered a solution to the choir scheduling dilemma.

To say my children and I were less than enthused would be a HUGE understatement.
I mean, here's our side--
Getting seven people, five of them children, dressed, fed and out of the door each Sunday morning at 8:45am  is a challenge in itself. (Well two leave at 8:30am, but that is a WHOLE 'nother story!) Add to it that we would have to have a CLEAN house when we leave makes it even more of a challenge. Add to it that upon arriving home from church, my children are in a mad scramble for snacks, throwing off ties and shoes, dropping scripture bags and discarding miscellaneous papers and artwork along their path doesn't make it the tidiest, cleanest place for 15-25+ people to come sing.

When I heard the announcement this morning in our first meeting that "Choir practice will be held at the Sowby home at 12:15pm" I inwardly sighed. Actually, I may have sighed quite audibly too as I thought about my home I had minutes ago left.

I left the house at 8:45am with a two year old who had just recovered from a temper tantrum and in the process dumped a box of cereal on the floor. In addition I left a tipped over diaper basket, and I think our family room carpet had every toy we owned laying on it.

Ahhh--but as the choir members slowly began to arrive at the appointed time, I received notification through an email on my phone that an article of mine had been published today. Which one?

This one:
"Serving isn't always easy." (click the title to read)

And there is NO ONE that needed to be reminded of that principle more today than me and my children.
Bet you can't guess what we will be reading during our family time today.

As Mike said to the choir director today when being thanked for offering our home, "This is an easy way to get blessings."

I'm counting on them.

The Secret I Kept

Speaking of love, change of hearts and being kind to others, now is as good a time as any to tell about a Christmas surprise that was very hard to keep...

In April, Mike and I will celebrate 15 years of marriage. And with marriage comes the inevitable issue of... in-laws. You know that whole merging of personalities, traditions, families and so on. In no way will I dredge up past experiences, but I will say for many years things were less than ideal between me (and Mike) and his parents.

A little over a year and a half ago, Mike's parents returned from their second LDS mission and we went to their house to visit them. As we sat in the backyard just our little family and Laurie and Steve I was overcome with love and acceptance of them. I spent the whole drive home trying to convince Mike that we were not dreaming and that I was in fact very excited to begin anew a relationship with his parents. Mike was mildly nervous that I had switched bodies with someone and wondered exactly who was sitting in the car seat next to him.

I'm not going to publicly declare the private exchanges, thoughts and feelings that followed, but I will say it was a glorious experience to be able to truly feel unconditional love and acceptance (to and from) people that we had had a somewhat tumultuous history with for far too long. I KNEW then and still do today, that without a doubt my feelings and change of heart were a direct result of the promises and blessings given to them as they faithfully served the Lord as missionaries.

Six months later, in December 2010 Laurie and Steve announced they would be going on a third mission, Mike looked at me speechless when I expressed how much I would miss them and how I had bittersweet thoughts and feelings about them going. My how things had changed.

One day this last fall, I sent an SOS email to my mother-in-law asking her to call me whenever she could. I desperately needed some advice and guidance about a decision I was attempting to make. It was another reminder of how far we had all come.

In early-December, Mike spoke on the phone to his parents late one Sunday night. It was not unusual for them to call, and I was somewhat wrapped up in whatever I was working on and paid little attention to Mike's side of the conversation. To make a long story short, Mike hung up and asked me if I could keep a big secret. (I think Mike and his mother were concerned that because I open presents early meant I can't keep secrets. Not the case!) To make the long story even shorter, Laurie and Steve surprised our children at church on Christmas Day. Laurie and Steve decided after serving three missions, they would not extend this last mission as they had originally planned. Instead they would come home and bask in being grandparents.

It was a hard secret to keep. I even flat-out-lied a time or two when a conversation struck up about whether Laurie and Steve would be home for Joshua's birthday or Ellie's baptism next Spring. Megan kind of wondered why Laurie and Steve's presents were hidden under a chair in my bedroom rather than taken to a post office to be mailed, the kids couldn't understand why I was preparing a Christmas Day meal when we never have before, a few of them wondered why we all had to arrive at church early on Christmas Day with Mike, Megan and the harp instead of driving separately, etc.

I wish I'd have had a camera in church to capture the expression on Megan's face when she turned and saw her grandparents while she and Mike were up front tuning the harp.

It was a difficult secret to keep.

But oh so worth it.
Especially when all five of my children (a couple of them twice) had the chance to sleep over at Grandma and Grandpa's just days after they had been out of town for over a year. What champs!

There is only one draw-back to their early arrival home...
Megan AND Luke have been invited to attend the Utah Symphony with them tonight. Even though I predicted Luke would be bored out of his mind, Mike knowing it will be a good experience for him decided to go ahead and encourage him to go. Luke has been quite looking forward to this mystical symphony thing that he knows nothing about and really doesn't know what to expect...

Dutifully, at the suggestion of my mother-in-law, I You-Tubed Tchaikovsky's piano concert No.1 this morning  before school to introduce Luke to it. We were only about 58 seconds through the 6.55 minute video and Luke was nowhere to be found. Should be an interesting evening.

BUT--that is the beauty of a good, healthy relationship. You give and you take. I'm sure Grandma Laurie isn't exactly thrilled to hear non-stop about goats, cowboys and horses.

~I know some of this seems like kind of private information in such a public setting. But I have some friends who have mothers in-law that make them crazy. I have some friends that are the mothers-in-law themselves and deal with issues that come with that. And in nearly every conversation with these friends, I am reminded of my OWN mistakes, my OWN immaturity and my OWN selfishness lasting more than a decade. Just last week while talking with a friend about grandparents, I cringed as I recalled something I had done almost thirteen years ago when Megan was just a baby.

Thank goodness for love, forgiveness and change of hearts.
These two are now some of my absolute favorite people.
Who would ever have thought?!

Kindness Begins With ...

My kids and I have a random, impromptu tradition around here. Oftentimes in the morning before school we will sit in the front room waiting until it is time to leave for the bus, and I will play on the piano my favorite Primary (children's Sunday School) song, "Kindness begins with me."

"I want to be kind to everyone,

For that is right you see.

So I say to myself, remember this.

Kindness begins with me."

As we get to the last line of the song, I wave my arm dramatically in the air. (I know, I know I am a great multi-tasker--I can play the piano with one arm while waving my other arm in the air.) After waving dramatically for the last line, "Kindness begins with..." at the very last word I point at someone and we all say, their name. Of course I then obsessively think we need to sing it for every person in the room, so no one thinks they are excused from being kind that day. Except we never sing it with my name at the end...

Being kind to others is a HUGE repeated over and over lecture I give to my kids nearly every day. In fact that was one of the reasons we chose the word "LOVE" for our school year motto. You can read about that HERE.

Somewhere between lectures to my children, lessons in Family Home Evening and the one handwritten "L-O-V-E" sign on our fridge. Someone has forgotten to internalize the message herself.

I'm somewhat ashamed to admit that person is me.

Saturday morning I worked my regular Saturday morning shift at the Bountiful Temple. For over 7 years I have worked my shift alongside a lady who has become a dear friend. But this last Saturday I was alone. Without the distractions of chatting with someone, I had a lot of time alone to think. Being the very last day of 2011, and with the quietness around me, my thinking went a lot deeper than usual.

My thoughts immediately turned to an interaction I had just had moments before with someone that made me think, "I can't wait to tell Mike about this and of course Joni will die laughing when I tell her." (Joni being my friend who was absent for our shift.)

What?!?
Here I was at the temple of all places and I was in a sense inwardly mocking someone. And that my friends is what got my thinking deeper.

Sometimes I'm just not a nice person.
I allow myself to be irritated, annoyed, bugged and humored by people.

I work with a lot of people in a lot of different circumstances; school, temple, PTA, Power of Moms, church callings, blogging, neighborhood, business associations, family, friends, etc. In nearly every situation, I am again ashamed to admit I could come up with people that plain and simply annoy me.

There are family members I'd like to disown somedays.
There are Primary kids I occasionally wish I could smack.
There are women I don't feel like I can trust.
There are strangers I wish I could growl at.
There are neighbors who sometimes annoy me.
There are friends I at times want to kick in the rear.

And guess what!? I KNOW I am guilty of plenty of infractions of my own. But still, I have no excuse.

Too often I am rude, inpatient, judgmental, and plain unkind. Add to it that I'm a fairly HONEST person and rarely can I smile and "Pretend-I-like-you-and-want-to-be-with-you-when-really-I-DON'T!"

Something's gotta change.

And that my friends is the long drawn out thinking behind my simple New Year's Resolution. I'm not one to make big lofty goals in January. (Not sure what that says about me!?) In fact last year I simply decided to laugh more. Wait, that was the year before. Last year's was to relax more. (Yeah-didn't go so well did it?)

This year I would say my goal is to "Love MORE" but really, I think I just need to start with the basics and learn to "love". Hopefully the "more" part will come later.

Phewww-how's that for honesty? Wonder how many people I've offended wondering if they are the ones I haven't been loving much!?! Not to worry though. I'm going to be loving you all now!

Happy New Year!
Love...

Need a Date Night?

We had a great turn-out for our Power of Moms Couples Workshop in November, that we've decided to host another one. It is a really great opportunity for a meaningful date night, and costs hardly anymore than dinner and a movie!

We'd love to have you come!!

The registration link is here.

What is a Couples workshop? Check it out here? And here.

If you're a mom in Southern California, you've got to seriously consider this Power of Moms Retreat. Looks fantastic!

Had a sick toddler yesterday and got hardly anything done on my to-do list. Double efforts today!
Happy Wednesday!!

Somebody Please SHUT UP!

When I was a child my mother started (and carried out) a rule that if you said "shut up" you had to put 10p in a little money bank that was almost identical to this marketing icon.

I honestly can't remember how many times I may have been slapped with the fine (I'm sure not many, I was a very good little girl), but I will admit now I would be darn near poor if the fine was still in effect. I say "shut up" far too often. Not necessarily in a mean way, but probably too often nonetheless...

My kids have been home from school now for 12 days in a row. I have absolutely LOVED no early morning lunches to pack and no homework filled afternoons. But my mind is ready to EXPLODE. I am in mental overload. The reason?

My kids DO NOT STOP talking. And I mean THEY DO NOT STOP TALKING!

The other night while out to dinner with some good friends, my friend told me I need to relax more. "What do you do to relax?" he asked. (Please bear in mind he asked this question in the middle of Christmas break.) My reply was something like this...

I told him that very afternoon I decided to lay down on the couch for 20 minutes to work on my new Sudoku puzzle book. I probably only got three numbers filled out and that was not because I was stumped by the puzzle! It was because my kids don't SHUT UP.

"Watch my tactor Mama, it's got big tailer"

"If you push this button on Buzz, the wings only come out if they are tucked away. If you push the button when they are out they don't come out because they already are out."

"I need..."
"I want..."
"Will you..."
"Hazel and Hank are..."
"Can I..."

Can you see now why I didn't even get a tenth of the way through one simple Sudoku puzzle in a 20 minute time frame?

An hour or so after the "Tiffany needs to relax conversation" we had with our dear friends, Mike and I laid in bed each reading a book. Drew fortunately was asleep in bed. Ellie was down the hall hollering at me that the medicine on her lip smelled funny and Joshua was calling to me to "Come see my horse farm I made!" Having ignored his previous 329 requests to come see it, I decided to go check it out. As I put down my book and climbed out of bed, I bumped into Megan who had just arrived at the side of my bed, beginning what I could tell was going to be a long-drawn out story.

Mike's book was still in front of his face and not a single sentence had been interrupted.

As I sit here at the computer, Megan stood in the kitchen rambling to no one in particular, when she said aloud, "I think it would be so fun to have your own talk show."

Mike's quick witty response? "You already do."

I rest my case. Sometimes I can't help but exclaim,
"Shut up!"

Thank goodness my mother doesn't live with us and impose any fines for freedom of speech.

Tomorrow my kids are returning to school. Even Joshua will be at pre-school for 3 hours. I am not ashamed to admit I'm going to pull out a handful of suckers from a secret stash and hand more than the suggested serving size over to Drew.

Maybe, just maybe it will give me just a little bit of quiet time to R-E-L-A-X.

Happy New Year!