The good, the bad and the ugly.

It's thundering outside right now. Like, legit, loud, booming thunder. It's so rare here. I'm loving every second of it. Too bad I know it won't last. It's 8:16 AM and I just finished loading the dishes, and then ate a pop-tart. I never buy them. But I had a hankering for one the other day and gave it a whirl. Strawberry, unfrosted, with loads of butter. This was the forbidden fruit of my childhood because my mother NEVER bought them. But our neighbors did. And every time a slumber party took place between me, Nessa, Dana and Daesha from across the street, you better believe we were eating pop-tarts. And they were like manna back then. Sweet manna from heaven. And we felt a little guilty eating them, like "Oh man! If mom could see us now!" It was the same way with sugar cereal. For this reason, every time I went to my BFF Brandi's house, no matter the time of day, I went straight in and raided her corn pops and honeycombs. And she'd try to tell me, "Those are for breakfast". But I would never hear it. And we would share awkward moments while I was shoving her cereal into my face. Because it was such a rare delicacy. The pop-tart wasn't quite as delicious as I remember it this morning. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'll be seeing that pop-tart again after it's been partially digested. I'll go ahead and say anything with that much butter was well worth it nonetheless.

This past weekend was General Conference for our church. As expected, it was wonderful and inspiring and uplifting and always seems to come at just the right time. There is always at least one speaker who speaks on motherhood specifically and pretty much helps us all feel renewed purpose and strength in what we are doing. This year's was Elder Neil L. Andersen. He spoke on the noble calling of motherhood and having a knowledge that we are doing God's will and work as we bring His children into this world. The talk is not available on print yet, but if you'd like to watch it or listen to it, go here. It was superb and much needed. Another talk that was particularly touching to me was Sister Dalton's address to fathers of daughters. She talked about how the very most important thing a daddy can do for his daughter is to love her mother. How she will learn what to expect from a relationships in dating and in choosing a future spouse because of the way she sees her dad treats her mom. Scarlett snoozed through that but you can believe Jason was extra snuggly with Lucy. Neither of us like to think very much about them growing up and dating and getting married and all that jazz. I bawled my eyes out through the whole thing. You can find it here. Worth every second. It was phenomenal. Truthfully there are so many talks that touched me. It is a supreme blessing to receive the kind of instruction and encouragement every 6 months that conference offers us.

I've been thinking about this motherhood thing. I remember when I was getting ready to serve my mission in Paraguay, my teacher in the MTC (who is now one of my very best friends on this planet!) said that for her, the mission was the absolute hardest blessing of her life. At the time that struck me as being sortof an oxymoron. Like, blessings aren't supposed to be hard. But she was totally right. The 18 months I spent in South America knocking doors and stopping strangers in the streets to talk to them about Jesus Christ and the restoration of His gospel to the earth in it's entirety was the absolute HARDEST. BLESSING. OF. MY. LIFE. up until that point at least. It was amazing. I was a part of miracles, regularly. I got to teach the gospel day in and day out, all day long. I knew every single day I was giving it my all and I was making Father in Heaven proud of me. I knew I was touching lives and bringing joy to brothers and sisters of mine. I knew I was giving hope to the hopeless. I loved all people instantly and deeply upon meeting them, and had not a single ounce of prejudice or judgement in my body. And it brought more true joy to my life than any single thing I had ever done. It was a sacred thing to be involved in. A sacred privilege.

And while it was the best, it was the worst. The absolute worst. It was so hot. It was like a sauna. We were rejected by so many. We were ridiculed and yelled at numerous times. We had one tiny portable air conditioner that was stuck in the window. In one area, I showered in the coldest water possible before bed, in my pajamas, and then would COLLAPSE into bed in soaking wet PJs in order to fall asleep. So many of the people we taught lived in circumstances that I didn't know human beings could live in prior. I got the stomach flu/food poisoning at least 6 times. I was hospitalized at one point because it was so bad. And being hospitalized in a third world country can be terrifying. I had blisters and one time found a parasitical worm imbedded in my foot. I gained 25 extra pounds, and hey, that's rough on your joints. I have shared this before, but on SEVERAL occasions I stood in the shower with my hand over my heart belting the star spangled banner absolutely bawling my eyes out because I missed my homeland so badly. No one could have ever prepared me for how difficult it was. How draining in every sense of the word the work could possibly be. And members of the church tend to deem South American missions as "easy" missions, because generally the people are so warm and the culture so friendly. There are no "easy" missions, and the challenges are very unique in each one.

Whoooooa. It was all just so intense. For so many reasons. White ankle socks and hideous baby doll shoes? All the sisters wore white ankle socks. Helped with the worms in the feet thing and the blisters thing. When I got there and saw the atrocity of the sisters in their white ankle socks, I vowed I would never ever participate in such shameful behavior. And then ate my words shortly after.

So while serving a mission brought me the most joy I had ever known until that point, I did not "enjoy" every day. Some days I would cry to Heavenly Father and ask in all seriousness why he sent me to Hell to try to teach the gospel. But I have learned that the reason it brought me that true joy was because it was so hard. The two go hand in hand I have learned. Nothing has the capacity to bring you that kind of joy that doesn't require your entire self. You and everything you can possibly muster in every possibly way. Every ounce of spiritual, emotional, mental, and physical energy you never knew you had.

Enter motherhood. I have an air conditioned home now. I haven't found any parasites imbedded in my skin since coming home to America (unless you include 3 fetuses... it's debatable). I am supremely blessed in my life. My husband is supportive and caring and an amazing father. He is able to provide for our family and we have two healthy vibrant children. We have the absolute cream of the crop families and the best friends on earth. We laugh and wrestle and play more than some would think is a responsible amount. I could go on and on and on. However, I do not enjoy everything about pregnancy and motherhood. I do not enjoy being nauseated. I do not enjoy fatigue. I do not enjoy feeling like any and every little thing might emotionally set me off or the every day roller-coasters of my moods. I do not enjoy not having the option of telling my tiny children, "Sorry, I'm taking a sick day" when they are hungry or want "chocker milk" or need to be wiped after going potty or need a diaper change. When I'm debilitated with nausea I do not enjoy high pitched screaming and fighting over toys, or pulling hair or my make-up being used/ruined or the toilet being played in. I do not enjoy that Lucy repeats the same request 1200 times in a row while I'm trying to fulfill that request.

So having babies and raising them now is the best thing I have ever done in my entire life. It has brought me more joy than any other thing, by a long shot. I still don't enjoy everything about it. Would I give everything in the world for these two (three in May) miniature people? Would I give my life for them in an instant? Will I do any and everything to protect them and love them and support them every day of my life? Of course. I do not throw up every day while I'm pregnant, like some. But if I did throw up every single day of pregnancy I would still somehow magically sign up for it again and again to have one of these in my arms:

Scarlett, 6 hours old.

Or one of these:

Lucia at one year.

Or one of these:

A perfectly healthy heart beat at 8 weeks pregnant. This is our third child.

Or to attempt to do housework like this, when two itties both want to be held:

Must have found this comical for some strange reason while passing by the mirror on my way to vacuum.

Or a couple of these:

My point is, the reality of life is not all about fun. The purpose of life transcends the here and now convenient pleasure rides. We are all given unique challenges that are tailored for us and stretch us individually. And I don't think a mother of one shouldn't feel like she has a right to express feeling overwhelmed and exasperated just because there are mothers of five or ten out there. (If you have more than one child and a girlfriend of yours has only one and is telling you she can't get anything done because of that said one child, resist all urges to say, Just wait til you have 2 or 3, you think it's hard now? Because while it may or may not be true, it's smug and annoying. I say this only because I have found myself very smug and annoying after saying just such things.) Nor do I feel like just because someone has waited for and prayed for a baby for years before finally getting pregnant, they have to pretend like it's all daisies and roses when they are throwing up or have splitting headaches. It's okay for it to be hard. Nor do I feel that Jason shouldn't have a right to complain about being married to me sometimes just because there are plenty of men out there who haven't found a loving and caring wife yet (just like me of course), or may not ever find her. We shouldn't feel like total ingrates if we have to vent about this or that or whatever. The first few times I cried to Jason about feeling isolated and stagnant as a stay at home mom he sincerely asked if I wanted to get a job and send the kids to daycare. It doesn't mean we would change a thing about what's happening in our lives if we could. We just need to fuss sometimes. And we need some good nurturing "there there's". That's it.

And when you need to fuss, call me. I won't remind you of those who have it worse than you, because right off the bat I know that's not what you need to hear. That's something that I think the Lord helps you eventually think about when you're ready for some introspection, but not for others to point out. I'll be waiting with a tub of ice-cream. Or if savory is your thing, I'll have chips and fresh salsa. Or maybe some mexican style corn on the cob with mayo and lemon pepper and chili powder. Oh yum I think I'll go make some right this second.