Friday, September 18, 2009
Yesterday I attended a women's meeting entitled "Super Mom, Molly Mormon, and YOU." They had all kinds of bee-u-tiful tables decorated to represent different aspects of a Super Mom. (PTO Mom, Cool Mom, Soccer Mom, Spiritual Mom, Chef Mom, Fitness Mom, etc.) Their tongues must have overextended themselves into their cheeks.
They didn't have a table for Slightly-Insane-and-on-the-Verge-of-Tears-Mom. I looked.
The meeting was excellent. Uplifting. Inspiring. I realized once again that I can't do this alone. I can't be the perfect wife, perfect mother, perfect teacher, perfect neighbor ... I can't be perfect. And that's okay.
I cried a lot.
This morning I woke up refreshed. Ready. Awesome. Even attractive.
Sent Little Prince off to school and packed the wee ones off to my exercise class. Today was yoga. I was in a very yoga-ish mood, too. Ready to get in tune with my inner spirits, and all that jazz. The room was darkened, soft yoga-ish music playing. I think there were winds and waves involved. Children played happily by their mothers' mats. But not mine.
First Ouro Branco informed me that he wanted LIGHTS! NO DARK! in a very loud three-year-old voice during the warm up.
Mr. Squishy sat on my foot and cried during Warrior Three. And Triangle Pose. And Downward Dog.
Ouro Branco climbed on top of me during my Sun Salutation.
They both screamed every time the instructor told us to breeeeeeeeeathe.
Mr. Squishy ripped out my (fine tooth) headband during Child's Pose. Along with several hairs.
Ouro Branco dumped my ice-cold water bottle on the mat right during a lunge.
We left early.
Face burning, I was gritting my teeth and repeating the words, "they're just kids, they're just kids, they're just kids." A little different than "OM," but it worked. We piled in the car, all of us pouting, and the Primary CD that was playing previously turns on. Third verse of "The Family is of God."
A mother’s purpose is to care, prepare,
To nurture and to strengthen all her children.
She teaches children to obey, to pray,
To love and serve in the fam’ly.
Pretty sure I laughed. Then cried hysterically.
Last night one of the speakers gave insight into WHY we can't do it all. She said that if we were able to do everything we wanted to do, we wouldn't be able to show Heavenly Father what our priorities are. It is only when our time is limited that we display our true choices.
Lately, my priorities seem to be laying down, reading, laying down, surfing the net, and laying down.
Granted, I'm not feeling well. First trimesters, in a word, suck. (I hate that word. But "stink" doesn't have quite the same effect.) There are times and seasons for everything, and right now my season is growing a baby.
I can do better. I know I can.
I used to be a pretty hands-on mom. We had Mommy Mondays and Mommy Dates and did CRAFTS and stuff. Now I consider it an accomplishment if I merely observe them playing at least once a day.
I can do better. I know I can.
Because my priorities are NOT laying down and reading. My priorities are these guys.
And that's ALL. Yoga shmoga.