"Day of Rest"

Someone left the cat in the house all night. I awoke to him pouncing up on my side of the bed bright and early the next morning. As he stealthily prowled across my stomach, I instinctively pushed him away from the sleeping baby lying by my side. Kade had been up several times during the night, and at some point I had drowsily brought him from the crib to the bed so I could fall asleep nursing. Today was Sunday. A much needed day of rest. I was exhausted. As if sharing a room with a 3-month-old wasn't enough to disrupt my good night's sleep, I was also bothered by a full-body poison ivy rash that has left me itching and scratching for weeks. I scooped the cat up in my arms and rolled out of bed. Shuffling to the kitchen, I put the cat out and tried to focus on what to make for breakfast.

Before long, the house was alive with children running this way and that, followed by a nagging, sleep-deprived mother shouting, "Get your church clothes on!", "Eat your breakfast!", "We don't want to be late!" Justin had to be at the church early for an Elders Quorum presidency meeting. As he headed out the door, he asked if I had seen his church bag. I stared at him in stunned disbelief. Our disastrous house was littered with piles of clutter everywhere. It would take a miracle to find anything with the house in such a state! I started randomly combing through junk on the floor, and just as Justin was mounting his motorcycle, I found his briefcase and ran it out to him.

Eden was a bit on the ornery side (she takes after her mother), so I stuck her in the bathtub to keep her occupied while I cleaned up breakfast and tried to do something with my hair. About that time, the phone rang. I let the answering machine get it. It was the primary chorister, telling me that she was leaving town immediately and that I would need to find a last minute volunteer to teach religious songs to young children for two 20-minute sessions at church that day. Curse word! It was only my second week serving as the second counselor in the primary presidency. The primary president was out of town, and I had already spent the previous three days calling down the sub list trying to find teachers for the CTR 5 and CTR 7 classes. I wasn't even sure there was anyone left to fill in for music that day!

I finished wiping the counter tops and took out the trash. As I walked back in the door, I knocked over Brock's walking stick that he had spent $5 of his own money for at the cub scout 100th anniversary celebration the day before. As it came crashing to the floor, the stick hit the "Family" photo collage frame on the wall, knocking it down and shattering glass all over the kitchen. Immediately, the children came swarming to investigate. I began shouting, "Don't come in here!" and, "Why did you leave your walking stick in the kitchen?!" as I reached for the broom and started sweeping up the mess.

Once the broken glass was in the trash, I decided to call the primary music director back. Luckily, she had found her own sub for music. "Whew!" What a relief. I headed back to the bathroom to check on Eden in the tub. She had pooped. In the water. Ugh! I hate it when she does that! I scooped out the turd, and let the water out. Eden protested loudly as I turned on the shower head and rinsed her off. So not my morning.

Once the tub was scrubbed, and Eden was dry, it was time for me to put on some make-up. Only I couldn't find it anywhere. I looked through all of the bathroom cupboards and drawers. Nothing. Maybe I had left it in my gym bag. As I headed out of the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of my oldest son. The white dress shirt he was wearing was obviously two sizes too small. The sleeves barely came down past his elbows. I told him to go change, and he insisted that he was wearing the only clean church shirt he could find. I rolled my eyes, and grumbled my way up the stairs to find him a suitably-sized shirt.

The children finally dressed, I tried to remember what I was doing before the last interruption. Oh yeah. I needed to get myself ready. I started looking for the deodorant. Who in the world is the personal hygiene thief that keeps robbing my bathroom?! I finally found my makeup and deodorant in the diaper bag. I headed back to the bathroom, and on my way peeked into Eden's room to see what she was up to. I found her sitting on her bedroom floor DUMPING baby powder ALL OVER the floor!! This was NOT the first time she had done this. She KNEW better!! I completely lost it, swatted her bum and carried her, screaming, out to the van. I turned on the A/C and buckled her in her car seat, the only place left where I could truly keep her out of trouble.

By this time, I knew we would surely be late for church. I sprinted back into the house, slapped on some foundation and mascara, pulled my hair into a ponytail and buckled Kade into his car seat. Wishing there was time to touch up the nail polish on my toes, I slipped on some sandals and threw some picture books into a "quiet bag" for church. As I passed through the kitchen, I noticed Eden's untouched bowl of cereal on the table. Great. The last thing I needed was a hungry two-year-old at church. Not wanting her to starve through sacrament meeting, I snagged a banana and headed out the door. The older boys were nowhere in sight. I hollered for them to get in the car. They eventually came trudging up the hill, and I realized that they had been playing with the stinky, dirty dogs in their Sunday best. Fantastic! I just love being known as the mother of the stinky, dog drool covered kids at church!

I looked at the clock. It was 9:50a.m. I had ten minutes to get to the church on time. I threw Eden her banana, ignored the complaints from the other kids that wanted bananas too, peeled out of the carport, and headed up the driveway. It was then that Brock shouted, "Wait! Mom! I don't have my church shoes on!" I turned around to see that he was wearing his flip flops over his dark church socks. That surely can't be comfortable. I backed down the driveway and waited for him to run inside and change.

We made it to church just a few minutes late. Justin had saved us a bench close to the front, and was sitting on the stand as the final speaker of the morning. Once the kids were settled on the pew, I looked down the row and noticed an empty banana peel on the seat. Gross. How could we have been so tacky as to bring a banana into the chapel? The opening hymn played, and my three older boys began swinging each other's arms around obnoxiously "leading the music" and giggling profusely. Eden noticed her daddy on the stand and started yelling "Look! It's my daddy!" and insisting that she go sit with him. I tried to distract her with items from the "quiet bag", but she was not easily deterred. We barely made it through the passing of the sacrament before Kade started to fuss and I decided we'd be better off sitting in the Relief Society room and listening to the meeting through the P.A. system where I could nurse my baby and monitor my children without disturbing anyone who was trying to actually enjoy the church service. I whispered loudly down the row, "follow me!" and led my children out of the chapel.

My sister-in-law met us in the hallway and offered to sit with my kids while I nursed my baby. I thanked her and sent the three boys back into the chapel with their aunt, retaining my ornery 2-year-old by my side. We headed to the mother's lounge, a very tiny closet of a room with one rocking chair, a sink, and a plastic classroom chair in case more than one baby needed to be fed. (It seems there are always at least two mothers in that room at a time.) Being the first one in the room, I got the good seat. I looked in my diaper bag for my nursing cover, and realized that I had forgotten it at home. Oh well. That's what the mother's lounge is for anyway, right? I nursed Kade and tried not to squish Eden who was crawling around on the floor, hiding behind the rocking chair. It wasn't long before I was joined by two other nursing mothers. One sat in the plastic classroom chair beside me and the other sat on the counter top to feed her baby. The three of us chatted about our babies and griped about the obvious need for a larger mother's lounge. As I was finishing up and about to head back to the chapel, one of the nursing mothers casually informed me that the primary pianist wasn't at church that day, and we would need to find someone else to play the piano for primary. Perfect.

Dragging my two youngest children back to the chapel, I remembered that I was supposed to give the closing prayer in sacrament meeting. How on earth was I going to give a public benediction in such a state? My morning had been hectic, my children were driving me crazy, I hadn't heard a word of doctrine that was shared in the meeting, I was resenting my new primary calling and in serious need of an attitude adjustment.

When I re-entered the chapel, I found my adorable teenage nephew and two gorgeous nieces sitting next to my boys on the bench. They were visiting from out of town, and I was so grateful for their reverent influence on my kids. I sat down next to my sister-in-law just in time for Justin to give his talk.

Justin gave a beautiful talk. Seriously. I'm not just saying that because I'm his wife. He spoke about parenthood, (wouldn't you know it?) and the message he shared truly pricked my heart. I was particularly struck by a story he shared about a father who spent an entire day scrutinizing and reprimanding his young son, unappreciative of the tender trust the young boy placed in him as his father. At the end of the day, the father realized what he had done and regretted his negative behavior, wishing he had been kinder, more patient, and loving to the boy. I immediately saw myself in the story. Here I was, the mother of five beautiful children, choice spirits sent to me by a loving Father in Heaven who trusted me to love and care for their needs, and what had I been doing? I had spent the entire morning mentally taking inventory of all the negative things that had gone on. I had been looking for bad behavior and inconveniences, searching for reasons to feel sorry for myself, and prove what a rough job I had as a mother. I had been bossy, impatient and unforgiving to these young stewards, unappreciative of the sweet innocence I had been given the sacred responsibility to care for, protect and love. Tears came to my eyes as I was reminded of how brief my time is to influence these young minds and pour love into their growing hearts before I'll have to send them out into the world to fend for themselves. So much is at stake. So much depends on my ability to teach them and show them by example everything they need to know to be successful and happy in life. They are my reason for living! They are more important than anything!

The meeting ended, and I truly felt penitent. I realized that this really had been a much needed day of rest. I had the opportunity to forget myself for just a moment, to see my children as the true treasures that they are, and adjust my perspective just a little bit towards the eternal. I'm so thankful for the spirit that touched my heart in that meeting.

That all happened a week ago. Another sabbath has come and gone since then. I sat in primary again today with tears in my eyes, watching my three older sons interact with their peers, realizing how fast they are growing up and how quickly their friends are becoming the prominent influence in their lives. They are starting to realize that their mother doesn't know everything. In just three short days, they'll be going back to school, spending their days in the classroom, and away from my constant supervision. Are they prepared for all that they might encounter in that setting? Do they know how wonderful and good and strong and talented and important they are? Do they understand their own worth and capability? Have I taught them well enough? I hope and pray that I can be a better, more patient and devoted mom to these absolutely priceless young ones who I truly do love with all my heart! I am so blessed to be a mother!