Where's a Confessional when I need one?

I refuse to clean our bathtub. My husband does it instead. I'll do the rest of the bathroom, just not the tub. * Much to the Mister's eternal chagrin, I drink out of the carton...regularly. * I definitely don't shower everyday, and sometimes only once every 3 days and just put my hair up the other days. * I don't typically change diapers when they're wet, only when they're dirty (although that only works because I have really poopy kids). * Sometimes I spend the whole day blogging, checking my email, looking up random crap online, and reading, only coming up for air to get after the kids and give them nourishment. * I absolutely loathe most housework. I can do it and do it well (my mom's a clean-freak, so I've been well-trained), but I hate it. * I almost never make my bed. * Sometimes, I wish I hadn't married so young (19). * I'm jealous of girls that went on missions, they seem so accomplished and spiritual. * I'm a zit popper (drives my husband insane). * I was recently released from my primary calling at church and was immensely relieved. I was going crazy working with kids nearly the same age as my own children, and with all the insanity that goes with that. * Sometimes I wish I could show off a little cleavage on occasion. * I pretend to be a good mom who doesn't want to over-schedule her kids, but really I'm just too lazy to have much structure. * I cook fairly involved meals so I don't feel guilty leaving the housework undone. * I'm a little crazy about the state of my tupperware area. Every lid and bottom has a place and shouldn't be moved. * I'm cheap to a fault. * I didn't wear a bra occasionally during my senior year of high school. It was my way of rebelling without actually doing anything too horrible. Now I just wish I still had the boobs for it. * I'm insane when it comes to matching colors. I'll notice a non-matcher item from 20 paces, I swear it. * I exercise with (minor) make-up on. * I secretly like my butt. It's big and round and makes jean-shopping a nightmare, but after years of praise from some black guy-friends I had in high school, I've come to terms with my posterior. * I seriously think my kids are the most hilarious kids ever. Sorry, but I really, truly do believe they're funnier then your kids. Well, unless your name is Liberty...then your kids hilariousity might possibly trump my own. * I still get sick to my stomach when my mom or dad calls me casually into a different room. It's a throw-back from my childhood when that usually meant I was in trouble and they didn't want to alarm me, causing me to flee the scene. * I prefer hairy men to those clean-chested, clean-faced type. Pretty sure my insistence is the sole reason Spencer currently has a goatee.* I think my feet, toes especially are beautiful. They're my very favorite part of my body. * Speaking of which, I think un-painted female toenails are ugly. * I adore candy. I would eat entire bags of it in a single sitting if given the chance. * My house is currently a disaster, but I think I'm going to ignore it and go to the craft store instead.

There now, that was cleansing. Your turn...

Guilt

The other day I found myself alone in my house. This doesn't happen often and while I had a list a mile long of things to do, I found myself aimlessly flipping through channels on the TV just because I could without interruption. This landed me on the Ellen Show with guest Jennifer Lopez. I happen to like Jennifer Lopez and so I stopped to listen to the interview. Jennifer Lopez has twins about the age of my son and so the topic of motherhood came up. Ellen asked Lopez what the biggest surprise of motherhood is, that you always hear about how hard it is but it is worth it all and the best thing anyone has ever done. Lopez thought for a few moments and then gave the best answer I've ever heard. The biggest surprise of motherhood, she said, is the guilt. I found myself shouting yes at the TV. Nobody ever told me about the guilt.

You feel guilty doing something by yourself - whether it's taking a shower or going out for an hour. You feel guilty for not liking your body, for picturing where you would be without kids, for not wanting sex, for wanting to pursue your own dreams and hobbies. You feel guilty when the house isn't clean and if you clean it you feel guilty for taking time from your children to clean. You feel guilty when you serve chicken nuggets, french fries, and corn for the umpteenth time because it is the easy way out and everyone is satisfied. Then there is the guilt at the end of the day as you ask yourself were you the best Mom possible. Maybe I shouldn't have yelled at my two year old as he peed on my bed. Did I give my children enough hugs? Am I teaching them the things that are important for them to succeed in life?

As I write this my youngest is waking up from her nap and I feel guilty that I am not responding immediately. There is even a small amount of guilt that I took time to write this instead of doing my chores.

Nobody told me about the guilt and nobody has told me how to handle the guilt. So, it all builds up until it overflows in tears and hormones, usually directed toward my husband. And as he holds me and tells me it will all be okay I can't help but feel guilty that he had to come home to such an emotional wife.

Look at those Jazz Hands go!

My sister (one of our most faithful HCT readers) referred me to this video, another Anita Renfroe brainchild, after seeing our (A More Real) Love Story post. While I can't quite say that I look forward to having wrinkles, necessarily, I love Anita's healthy, yet hilarious, view on getting older. Enjoy!

(A More Real) Love Story

One of my friends linked me this video and it seriously made my day. It made me laugh...and almost made me cry it was so true to life. Hope you enjoy it half as much as I did!

We are sowing, daily sowing...

I was attending our recent Stake Young Women Leadership Meeting*. While there, we sung the song We Are Sowing, to go along with the idea of how we are helping to grow a garden of strong, spiritual girls. Well, not only did this song remind me of young women...but my thoughts eventually led, as they typically do, to motherhood. The song starts with the line, "We are sowing, daily sowing Countless seeds of good and ill," then goes on to describe all the different places these seeds could be sown. There are the good places, like in "rich, brown furrows, Soft with heaven's gracious rain," and not so good places, like those "cast out in crowded places, trodden under foot of men."


It just reminded me that through the day, I'm sowing seeds inside my children, both with my harsh words and my gentle ones. When I teach my children of Jesus...and when I unintentionally teach my children that yelling is an appropriate way to express emotion. Sorry to be such a downer...but I was actually really comforted while singing the song, because the overall message of it is that even though our good seeds often fall on deaf ears, that some of them really do fall in fertile places...that if we ask the Lord to "bid thine angels guard the furrows Where the precious grain is sown," that he really WILL help us in our teaching of our children and in their ability to listen and learn. It's tough work being a mommy, especially since I often wonder if all my children will do is remember the yells and time-outs and forget the frequent hugs, giggles, and kisses...but this song reminded me that with the not-so-great seeds we sow, we also sow wonderful seeds, "sown in tears and love and prayer." At the end of the day, that's all I can really do. I can go to work in my garden of children and pray for the Lord to help my seeds take root, growing healthy and strong.


*For those of you not members of the LDS church, Young Women is our female version of your typical church youth group and our Stake is our church's organization in the area we live in.

Love Whose Body?

What time is it, Readers?

You guessed it...time for another Media Rant by Whitney.

On the menu this time, my own beloved Vicky S. Let me start off by saying I LOVE Victoria's Secret. I really, truly do. I love their bras. I love their lingerie. I love their body creams. What I can do without is their recent hypocrisy. VS has launched a mini-line, titled 'Love Your Body' within their best-selling Body line. At first I was sort of thrilled to hear this. I envisioned ads containing women of all shapes and sizes a la Dove's Real Beauty Campaign. Ya know: young, old, short, tall, curvy, boyish, etc. Come to find out...mmmm, not so much. In fact, the ads contain nothing more then a line up of, you guessed it, perfectly proportioned models.


So, whose body exactly am I supposed to be loving? I can tell ya right now I'm not loving looking at stick-thin models with legs up to here, yet still magically having D-size boobs. Yeah, not in love with that at all, actually.


To top it off, the campaign includes a video of the models discussing all the different parts of a man's body they love. Again, how is this supposed to help me love my body? Watching a panty-clad model lounge about discussing how much she loves a man's tummy (while pointing out her own amazingly toned abs for inspection), does not make me LOVE my very own post-baby body. So, next time you attempt to help women around the world love THEIR bodies, why don't you start by actually loving THEIR bodies yourself? Sorry VS, but you reeeeally missed the mark this time.


For those who are interested...

The 'What do you love about a man's body' Video:



The 'Love Your Body' Commercial:

Breaking Point

I'm reaching the breaking point with my son. Seriously reaching the point where I want to return my kids. Can I return these for my old body, my sanity, and a new pair of hot high heels? Starburst jelly beans (which are my favorite and you can only find at Easter time) are my cigarettes (don't smoke or drink, so it's candy for me).

We are reaching the terrible two's. Some people say it only gets worst from here. I'm inclined to believe them. He's broken two of my dishes, tried to eat sunscreen, went around eating the old bread I had thrown out for the birds, covered himself head-to-toe in dirt (of course he was wearing his NICE clothes too), and tried dancing in the bathtub. Normally this would just be a normal day. I might feel exasperated, tired, a little irate, but I could deal with it. But nooOOoo - we have to add the hitting, kicking, throwing, and the temper tantrums. The full out, throws himself on the floor (sometimes with his little fists pounding the floor), screaming and crying tantrums. I'm becoming a pro at getting a diaper on a running, screaming 2 year old.

Today I wanted to throw myself on the floor and join him in the tantrum. The thought of what people would think of a mother and her son prostrate on the floor of WalMart screaming and crying is enough to make me smile (oh right - and keep from doing it). Then there's the crying. If it isn't one kid it's the other. The crying alone would make most people break.

Last night I went grocery shopping - by myself! Two blissful hours without kids. I came home to a giant hug from my husband. Apparently our daughter screamed the entire time for him while he tried to wrestle our son to bed. "I don't know how you do it, but thank you. You are a great Mom." He said. Today, I don't know if I can do it. So, I'm taking a very. deep. breath.