One Eternal Round

Real Life Math Equations:

stuck indoors + all-day morning sickness = this past winter

this past winter + the repetitive "Groundhog Day" effect of motherhood = why I feel like a caged animal

a caged animal who wants to be creative + wiping off the high chair for the 847th time = bad attitude

bad attitude + worse diet + scowl = Melissa, the Mother Who Begged For Her Kids

I know. I'm the ungrateful leper who didn't say thank you after being healed. I even diffused "Cheer Up Buttercup" oil chock full of tangerine and lemon and it barely made a dent in my demeanor. I mislaid my rose-colored glasses and could only find really ugly lenses to look through in the meantime. What happened to me? Why is my favorite time of day when Archer naps? Why do teens have hormones? Why am I eating so many Cadbury mini eggs? Why is motherhood so hard?

As a kid I didn't have a clue what my mom did all day. There were mountains of sorted dirty laundry in the hall and my mom wore her robe way past breakfast. Once I saw her reading The Education of Little Tree but mostly she was in the kitchen cutting up whole fryers or sorting pinto beans. She hid special chocolate in the top compartment of the trash compactor and ate it after kid bedtime.

I often imagined the kind of mother I'd be. First of all, I was going to pay all my bills with checks because writing and signing checks in cursive looked like scads of fun. I was never going to be late to pick up my kids and I was going to bake a lot of cookies and over-celebrate every holiday including Arbor Day. I was going to be pretty and trim, a room mom akin to Julie Andrews, and a fun mom that swam in the pool and did cartwheels and licked frosting off of cupcakes.

I'm not that mom other than I do swim in the pool and write checks. I guess I didn't know who I'd grow up to be when I made that list. I'm okay with my mothering tactics but I now have an inkling of what my mother did all day and I owe her about 6,000 thank you notes. I also wear my robe way past breakfast.

My mom never complained about being a mom. She was a mom in a non-internet, non-sharing private society. She filled her days with duty over distraction and truly cherished being a mother of five. Maybe my mom vented at church to her peers or once in a blue moon at dinner group but for the most part she lived happily isolated in her chosen calling. She was good at holidays; I am craving her Easter sugar cookies with pastel frosting.

My dad never complained about being a dentist. I never heard him say he was sick of looking at molars or how he wished more people flossed more regularly. He'd ask us to rub his lower back after work but never whined about how sore a dentist's lumbar region gets day after hunch-filled day. I also think my dad missed three days of work ever. He dressed up for work. No scrubs for that class act.

Greg has never once complained about being the breadwinner. He has never said it's "his money" we live on. He puts fires out every day and drives home in heinous traffic, usually on an empty stomach because he's a seasoned lunch-skipper. And yet he'd work every day if he could because he chose to do what he loves.

Why am I the biggest whiner on earth when I got what I wanted? I know my purpose and divine worth and I'm working hard every day on things that matter most. I was not expecting motherhood to be sugar, spice, everything nice, everything easy, and an empty calendar. I expected cracked knuckles from washing my hands forty times a day. I knew there would be hundreds of diapers to change and thousands of sandwiches to make. I don't mind grinding wheat every five days or washing a load every morning. So why am I gasping for air every time a minute of solace surfaces and holding my breath the rest of the day? I think I can. I think I can?

Truthfully, and it's taken me months to pin the tail on this mental donkey, the killer of motherhood is not the repetition of what I do but merely the fact I am repeatedly needed. I love my kids more than anything and I know how valuable they are but despite the precious moments I frequently want to clock out and get lost. I often feel my selfishness eclipsing my happiness.

Bryton gave me a book for Christmas two years ago and I finally got around to reading it. Two concepts changed everything in my whinersphere and each acted as its own pink lens for my newly acquired and completely fetching rose-colored glasses:

1. Motherhood is creation in slow motion

2. God's course is one eternal round but is it not monotonous; God is never bored because perfect love is never bored

Regarding No. 1, I molted my whiner suit the second I processed this truth. I don't need to get my creative fix from art supplies or finished output. I can get it from my kids. They are my greatest commission. I've prayed I can still be the mom I always wanted to be, which at its core has less to do with frosting and cute outfits and more to do with embodying joy. I hope it's not too late for RE to remember me as someone with perfect love instead of someone who hated driving and was always sleepy after school. I still have time to change for the new batch of littles; just let RE see past my coal into my hidden diamonds.

Regarding No. 2, this truth is the all-clad armor that replaced my wimpy whiner suit. Two quotes by Elder Neal A. Maxwell (he sooooo speaks my language) I simply can't paraphrase are at the bottom of this post. I am a female fortress in my new getup. Find a chink. I dare you.

Motherhood has been better/easier/more rewarding since I refocused and redressed. This is a lesson I've been taught before and continue to learn. I guess when you struggle with something it can take the same lesson (repetition...the very thing I'm irked at...) from multiple angles to affect change.

Excerpt from my personal journal a.k.a. additional angle:

December 7, 2008.

Bishop Matthews was released six months ago and bore his testimony of miracles today at church. He worked with a 2 year-old colt yesterday. He hasn't worked with colts in years. He gave up 6 years of colts being a bishop and the Lord blessed him to be able to retain his horse skills thereafter. He said the Lord really will give us the desires of our hearts.

He also said Bishop Condie is a changed man and is doing a good job picking up the mantle and trying to carry it. He told him someday it will go away and he'll be sad. He was emotional during that last line. It was touching to see the tough, giant cowboy miss his old post.

Bless Martin Matthews. How did he know I'd need this in 2016? It's not my time for colts. It's my time for kids. I will still remember how to rope colts (a.k.a. be an art major with a clear brain and alone time to execute said brain's awesomeness) when my nest isn't full of squawky, hungry, helpless baby birds who need the same worms from me day in and day out. I'm glad he reminded me I will miss the arduous task of raising baby birds. I'm relieved he said it was hard. It is hard! Mantles are heavy! I thank him for hinting I'll be sad when no baby birds need me because baby birds (and naptime) are what make a mother's world go round.

The book Bryton gave me is Covenant Motherhood by Stephanie Dibb Sorensen. I highly recommend it.

Two quotes by Elder Neal A. Maxwell:

The divine delight in what seems to us to be mere repetition is one clue to the sublime character of God. Since we must, at times, accept what appears to us to be routine, repeated experiences, we too, if we try, can find fresh meaning and fresh joy in the repeated experiences. God's course is one eternal round but it is not one monotonous round. God is never bored, for one who has perfect love is never bored. There is always so much to notice, so much to do, so many ways to help, so many possibilities to pursue.

Repeatedly God has described His course as reiterative, "one eternal round". We mortals sometimes experience boredom in the routine repetition of our mortal tasks, including even good works; and thus vulnerable we are urged to not grow weary in well doing. But given God's divine love there is no boredom on His part amid His repetitive work for his course, though one eternal round, involves continuous redemption for His children. It is full of goodness and mercy as His long-suffering shows His love in action. In fact we cannot even comprehend the infinite blessings which await the faithful- "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard."

(I love that last scripture; I used it on my "Tabernacle Hill" post. It speaks to my love of grab bags. I will plunk money down for a grab bag any time because I love the element of surprise. To open a mystery bag having NO CLUE what may be inside is the ultimate thrill. It could be anything; a mini stapler, the perfect lipstick that wouldn't turn pink on my lips, or a peanut butter brownie frosted with ganache. To think God has things in store for me so wonderful I can't even imagine them excites me to no end. Of course God is never bored; He is getting billions of eternally amazing grab bags ready for all His faithful children!)

Photo quote by Elder Neal A. Maxwell, the quote superstar of this post.