Overwhelmed at Home? Ask Yourself Three Questions.

In our church, each of the women is assigned a teaching companion and a few women in the ward to watch over and serve.  It's called Visiting Teaching, because a big part of this service takes place in a monthly visit in each sister's home during which we can talk together about the gospel of Jesus Christ.  Like most women in the LDS church I am both a visiting teacher and a visiting teachee. And when I am tempted to think that my role in the lives of those I teach is minimal, or that I am taking up too much of their time, or that I have nothing to give, I try to remember all the visiting teachers who have blessed my life over the years.  

Betty Owen was one such friend.  Three or four years ago, I was overwhelmed as a mom and suffering from depression and anxiety. She showed enough sincere concern and love that I was able to open up about my feelings of guilt, inadequacy, and incredible fatigue.  Betty gave me some of the best advice I've ever received--advice so good that I often call it to mind when I feel I'm over-committed, overworked, and overwhelmed.  She told me to ask myself the following questions:

"Why am I doing this?"

"Why am I doing this?"

and

"Why am I doing this?"

Does it seem like the same question over and over?  It's not.  

The first question helps me examine whether or not I'm spending my time on something that matters at all.  I can think of several things I do each day that are completely pointless.  I'm not talking about a long bath (which rests and refreshes me), or chilling on the couch with TJ (which helps us connect and strengthen our relationship)--I'm talking about things that are obviously wasting my time or even just making me unhappy.  Facebook is an easy target here, but not the only one.  I've also come to realize that there are TV shows and movies that aren't worth my time--especially if they seem to alienate the Spirit.  Free time is too precious to waste on something that doesn't make me happier.

The second question encourages me to think objectively about whether I could meet the same ends in a different way.  So say we have guests coming this weekend and I'm tempted to go a little OCD with menu plans and a fabulously clean house.  But what's the object of the visit?  Are they coming to see Pinterest-worthy rooms and meals, or are they coming to see me?  If I really focus on the end goal, I get ready for guests by getting the house as clean as I can within reason and having a few good ideas about food that don't take a ton of shopping or cooking.  Then I can really enjoy the visit as much as my guests deserve.  And what about obviously worthwhile projects and pursuits that are (equally obviously) too time-consuming for me?   This year, it looks like we're just not going to have a garden. I want one.  I love gardening.  But if it's the straw that's going to break this back, I'm not willing to do it. If it's actually stressing or tiring me out to the point that it would be better to buy the fresh produce, then so be it.  

Question number three is the big one.  There are seven people in this family, which means there is a lot of work to be done--but it also means that there are a lot of workers to do it.  Seems so simple, doesn't it?  Haha!  If you're a parent, you know it's simple but not easy.  You kind of have to be forced to give up on the dream of perfectly-done chores.  Sometime after the birth of my little number five, I realized that windows that get washed today (even if they're not perfect) are better than windows that I would do perfectly one of these days.  Delegate, my friends.  Your kids will fight it, but fight back.  Be smart about it.  Find what matters to them and make it worth their while.  For instance, we always hold a quick cleanup right before breakfast and lunch.  If they want to eat, they have to clean up.  Also, my kids are expected to do a half-hour of chores before they play with friends each day.  That effectively eliminates the vacuuming, the bathrooms, and most of folding laundry, as well as odd jobs here and there.  Some days I just would rather do it myself--and the great thing is that on those days, the kids are thanking me for the reprieve.  

Jeffery R. Holland taught in his landmark talk on mental illness:

In preventing illness whenever possible, watch for the stress indicators in yourself and in others you may be able to help. As with your automobile, be alert to rising temperatures, excessive speed, or a tank low on fuel. When you face “depletion depression,” make the requisite adjustments. Fatigue is the common enemy of us all—so slow down, rest up, replenish, and refill. Physicians promise us that if we do not take time to be well, we most assuredly will take time later on to be ill.

If you are a home school mom

If you suffer from depression or anxiety

If you are struggling with health or financial difficulties

If you are facing trials of any sort

If you are feeling overwhelmed in your calling as a parent, I urge you to remember and ask yourselves these questions.  They've given me a perspective on parenting that makes a daily difference in my life.  And thanks, Betty.  You're the best.

My Secret Weapon

I feel certain that if, in our homes, parents will read from the Book of Mormon prayerfully and regularly, both by themselves and with their children, the spirit of that great book will come to permeate our homes and all who dwell therein.  The spirit of reverence will increase; mutual respect and consideration for each other will grow.  The spirit of contention will depart.  Parents will counsel their children in greater love and wisdom.  Children will be more responsive and submissive to the counsel of their parents.  Righteousness will increase.  Faith, hope, and charity--the pure love of Christ--will abound in our homes and lives, bringing in their wake peace, joy, and happiness.
-Marion G. Romney 

I have read this promise so many times that I'm surprised I don't know it by heart.  We've always been pretty consistent in our scripture study, and so I've always been a little bugged that we don't have the rosy family scene this quote depicts.  I've especially wondered why, when we're doing the best we can to live the gospel, we struggle in this house with so much contention.  And as I've prayed for help in teaching this family to speak kindly, I've been prompted to be more consistent in our family scripture study.  This advice I always acted gladly upon...for a few days.  :)

The answer to my prayers came this year in the form of a challenge from the bishop: to read the Book of Mormon in its entirety as a family this year.  He gave us a schedule that started Jan 1 2015, and my family scrambled to finish our first reading before the end of last year so we could start on time.

It took us at least four years to read the Book of Mormon as a family last time.  Suffice it to say, it scared me a little to think of committing to read the whole thing in one year.

My husband, who teaches seminary, was not crazy about the schedule idea.  He's a free spirit, and doesn't like the idea of rushing through great material in order to complete an assignment.  And to be honest, I had my doubts about the program, too.  But we believe in following our priesthood leaders, and so we sucked it up and started marking boxes every day to keep track of our progress.

We read together in the mornings.  Sometimes we're tempted to do other things first-- especially on the weekends when we have tons of time at home--but we've found that our chances of success go way down if we don't do it before breakfast.  And since we know we have to make up any days we miss, we are highly motivated not to miss.  We wake up the late sleepers and drag them in, blankets and all, and read our daily assignment from the bishop, which is usually around eighteen verses.  Part of the reading assignment is to mark, in different colors of pencil, attributes of Christ, references to Christ, and the words of Christ.  Our oldest three are all strong readers, so they take turns doing this. Sometimes we have great discussions on gospel principles.  Sometimes we laugh at the foibles of characters such as Laman (whiny), Chemish (lazy), or King Noah (selfish.)  Sometimes we kind of rush through the daily assignment and hope something sank in on its own.

TJ and I have been pretty consistent with family scripture study for the past several years.  We've done really well on weekdays and have missed a lot of weekends.  Sometimes, weekday study has been just a few minutes long, but we figured it was better than nothing.

But I can tell you now that in scripture study (as in life), you really do get out of it only as much as you put into it.  The difference between being pretty consistent and being very consistent is the difference between being pretty blessed and being very blessed.

We are feeling very blessed.  The kids are happier.  TJ and I are more patient.  We approach challenges with greater faith and softer words.  We seem to find more teaching moments throughout the day to witness of gospel principles to our kids.  There are way fewer--WAY fewer--fights over toys, clothes, and the breathing of someone else's air.  There is a culture of service going on, and an overall spirit of forgiveness.  Most of all, there's more love around here.

Isaiah and Paul, who are three and five respectively, are the best barometers for the success of this family.  When we struggle, they tend to act out.  But when this family's humming the way it hums right now, they are absolute joys to be with.  They tell me, each other, and the other kids several times a day how much they love us.  They smile.  They kiss.  They basically love on the family as a whole.  And I really think it's because they've been sitting in on our daily sessions with the Book of Mormon.  How much they can grasp cognitively, I really don't know.  But something is going on in their hearts, and besides being extremely cute, it is catching.

Our family is now perfect and we'll probably all be translated sometime this week.  JUST KIDDING! We still have challenges.  We still lose our cool now and then.  We still get lazy, disrespectful, unkind, you name it.  But it's just easier to be good these days.  And I know I can use all the help I can get.

I've started thinking that the Book of Mormon is every Mormon mom's secret weapon.  Sometimes it is even a secret from us.  We forget, don't we, all the promises that have been made?  We forget how good we felt when we were consistently studying as a family.  Even while we're listing the reasons we're not doing it--the list is long and we've all got one--we know in our hearts that if we could straighten out our priorities a little we'd be happier.  More blessed.

Sister Linda S. Reeves shared a testimony that has stuck with me:

A friend recently cautioned, “When you ask the sisters to read the scriptures and pray more, it stresses them out. They already feel like they have too much to do.”
Brothers and sisters, because I know from my own experiences, and those of my husband, I must testify of the blessings of daily scripture study and prayer and weekly family home evening. These are the very practices that help take away stress, give direction to our lives, and add protection to our homes. Then, if pornography or other challenges do strike our families, we can petition the Lord for help and expect great guidance from the Spirit, knowing that we have done what our Father has asked us to do.
Brothers and sisters, if these have not been practices in our homes, we can all begin now. If our children are older and refuse to join us, we can start with ourselves. As we do, the influence of the Spirit will begin to fill our homes and our lives and, over time, children may respond.  (emphasis added)

I love this counsel.  As moms, we are all looking to lighten the load of stress and worry we feel every day.  Do you remember the moment she made this monumental promise?  I do!  It just makes sense that the Father of us all, who cares deeply about my work as a mother, would have put in place practices that would empower and bless me.  It is almost silly for me to be writing this post.  Silly that this is such a revelation to me--because so many have testified of the power of daily scripture study.  But I'm here to add my voice.  It works.  

I've been a lazy mom lately.  I get the kids through their chores and school stuff, I drive them where they need to be and I put band-aids on--all as quickly as I can so I can get to the "fun" stuff.  Concerts and dates and books and long baths.  When did my life become something to get over with or something to escape?

Tonight I felt the familiar Monday-night urge to get through family night as efficiently as possible so I could read the Georgette Heyer book I have downloaded on the Kindle.  But as I got dinner on the table, I said a quick, silent prayer for help in being a good mom.  And that help came from Eliza and TJ, who were raring to get the family out to the park on this beautiful spring night.  We left the kitchen dirty and took a couple of soccer balls out there.  We played random games, mostly in an effort to teach these poor athletically-challenged kids how to catch and throw a ball.  We laughed ourselves silly at their ridiculous efforts.  Most of the games, no-contact sports though the were, ended in wrestling matches on the soft, cool grass.  We spent longer than we usually do, and had way more fun than we usually do.  There is something so blessedly beguiling about being outdoors with the kids.  Time just seems to melt away when the dirty dishes are nowhere in sight.

The kids are getting to bed an hour late, and so I won't be reading tonight.  But I don't really care because I had more fun at the park than I could have had reading a book.  Imagine that!



Well, maybe I'll just read a little.  

Just Kids

It is a sweet season for us.

The kids are in that beautiful stage between babydom and teendom--all five of them are.  Isaiah is starting to shun his high chair in favor of sitting on a big stool with the big kids.  They sit lined up at the counter, waiting for their pancakes.  Bop, bop, bop, bop, bop.  Sometimes even in age order.  No one is pining over unrequited love.  No one is collicky or teething.  No one is burdened with undue stress, with sin, or even with any great health challenges.  They tease each other and laugh over secret jokes.  They make messes and even help clean them up a little.  They read books about fairies or dragons, respectively.  They talk about animals, about the latest Studio C episode, and about adventures with mutual friends.  And after our meals, they often run out the front door and ride bikes and scooters around the circle together.  They are happy. They are friends.  And for the time being, they belong almost exclusively to TJ and me.

Has any mother ever been so blessed?  

Morning Gratitude

I'm on my knees in the dark of the morning, trying to squeeze in a morning prayer before the boys find me.  I can hear that Isaiah is waking up sad, and needs either a banana or a hug from me.  His cries come closer to the bedroom door, and soon his pitiful wail accompanies his tiny-fisted knocking.  I crawl to the door and meet his eyes.  I can't resist a hug and kiss, but then I am firm:  "Isaiah, I need to pray.  Go get a banana and I'll be in in a minute."  He is reluctant, and here comes Paul in his wake.  Maybe my prayer will have to wait. But Paul puts an arm around his little brother, with and says with tenderness and older-brother wisdom, "Isaiah, come with me and I'll get you a banana.  Mama needs to pray."  Isaiah lets Paul lead him back down the hall toward the kitchen, his arm still draped over his shoulder.  And I kneel again by the bedside and start with gratitude for loving brothers.   

I don't know what we did differently, but last night the dinner hour was kind of magical.  We were all tuned in, you know?  We laughed a lot.

Isaiah who is just starting to put together full (ly adorable) sentences, kept pointing to the floor and saying, "I dop my tahtoes."  I kept laughing and repeating it because I thought it was the cutest thing, and the kids joined in, imitating him.  Paul had compassion on his little brother and went and scooped up the dropped potatoes while the rest of us were still giggling.

Later in the meal, Naomi's plate full of food somehow slid straight into her lap.  "Naomi, what did you do," I said.  Without missing a beat, Ezra chimed in, "she dopped her tahtoes."  We all hooted with laughter.

Elder Uchtdorff is always urging me to live in the moment and to see my loved ones for the miracle they are. Once in awhile, just once in awhile, I'm able to do that.  Would I could always see the magic that occurs in my daily life.

My Inner Gypsy

I've gotten in the bad habit lately of sitting at the computer during breakfast and lunch, catching up on email or e-errands while the kids eat at the counter.  This bugs me, not only because mealtime is supposed to be good for connecting with family, but because I know I'd be irritated if my kids did that to me.  So this week I decided to start serving and eating meals at the table.

I wasn't expecting any dramatic results, but I had a sweet moment with my kids at lunch on Thursday. Naomi started speaking in tongues, and Eliza started "translating," telling me my fortune.  Usually this is the kind of silliness that drives me deep into cyberspace, but this time I embraced it.  I taught the girls how to read palms, and we spent the rest of the meal practicing on each other.  "You have a strong life line," we always began.  The fortune always went downhill from there:  "These twelve lines mean that you will have twelve children someday--all girls.  You will also have a goat.  You will be bitten by ants sometime this week.  You should never purchase cheese from someone who has dirty nails."  We had a good laugh together.  And I ended the meal thinking how grateful I am for those cute girls.  My chances to connect with them that way are numbered, and I intend to make them count!

Day of Rest

For the past three weeks, I've enjoyed the Sabbath day more, and have felt more rested, uplifted and inspired than I have for years.  That's because I haven't been going to church.

Ostensibly, I've been staying home to heal and rest, and to protect the health of Isaiah, whose immune system still needs a little while to boot up before he meets a chapel full of fans. 


But a girl sure could get used to this.  After all, what am I missing?  The sacrament is delivered to me here, so I can still renew my covenants.  Instead of hearing talks from ward members, I get to hear general conference talks online.  And although I'm not serving in Primary, I get to serve this sweet baby boy--which yields way more warm fuzzies per hour, anyway.  Instead of the weekly "be reverent" wresling match our family hosts during sacrament meeting, I'm at home enjoying personal scripture study, prayer, reflection, and journaling--all things that, admittedly, I don't take advantage of enough.  Three golden hours of silence in my own home have turned out to be a spiritual boon for me.

I'll be back to church in a week or two, however--and although I'll miss the peace and quiet of a solitary Sunday afternoon, I'll be glad to be back.  After all, I wouldn't have a testimony of this gospel if my parents hadn't braved the toils of church worship as they did just about every week of my upbringing.  We go to church first because our parents take us.  Then, because we hunger and thirst after the word of God.  Finally, we go so that we can pass the torch of testimony to the next generation.  It's worth it, too.  They're worth it.