Seriously thought, I have been one wicked mother lately. That's not a good thing. Mothering is hard. Always, but the last few weeks have been brutal. They're driving me crazy, I'm driving them crazy and it's just been less than ideal. I don't know if my hormones are out of whack or what's going on. I feel this pent up aggression and discontent all the time. I snap so quickly at the slightest provocation and don't come back very quickly. My skin is a horror story (Tyler and I literally started singing, "I don't want my skin to feel...like a battlefield, battlefield, battlefield...yeah, not good). I also set a realistic, but important, goal for myself this month. I've been doing a really good job, and I was really hoping that by accomplishing that goal, or working towards accomplishing it, I would feel better. It hasn't been a monumental 'feel better' sort of goal, so I was still a bit in witchville. Anyway, you get the picture.
So Mother's Day comes and I'm thinking, ok, here's a perfect opportunity to start fresh. Let's just come clean. I had an awesome date-night out last night. I got a break. Let's celebrate the mom-ness. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
Tyler informed me last night on our date that Lucy has been working really hard on my mother's day gifts. She hid them in her closet so that on Sunday morning when I come into her room to get her dress down for her I will be surprised. She's so thoughtful. I was surprised by a mountain of cards and pieces of artwork created by her. Plus a big hug. Max went and got his gifts out of their hiding spot and presented me with them as well. So sweet.
Then all the kids climbed into bed with Dad and read a story while I was getting ready. That's a good mother's day picture.
Plus, look how cute/awesome/handsome my family looks on this mother's day.
The big reveal and I was surprised to see the music-box my grandma had given me was restored to all it's beauty. My grandma has a huge music-box collection and has doled them all out to her grandkids as an heirloom. I love mine. It's a beautiful girl all in white with gold accent, holding an umbrella. Her song is "Love Song" and I can remember staring at her in my Grandma's house growing up. About 2 months ago, Logan managed to get his hands on it and smashed it into a number of pieces, including breaking the dial on the bottom that you turn to make the music work (you know what I mean).
I remember hearing a story one time (probably at Conference) about a mom who's beautiful china dishes get smashed and every one expects her to be upset because they meant so much to her, but instead of lashing out, she is kind and loving. I remember hearing that story and thinking how amazing that woman must be and if something similar ever happened to me, I would try to do the same. It was a Sunday morning, which is always crazy at our house, and it happened. Smash! Everyone's breath seemed to catch and they all turned to look at me...waiting. I took a deep breath, picked up the pieces of my beautiful music box, placed them on the dresser and continued getting ready. Inside I was heartbroken, but I knew it was an accident. This makes it sound like I'm telling the story to make myself look good. Not at all. I was devastated and I was just grateful to have heard that talk previously to help me maintain perspective. I may not be a righteous example, but at least I can follow one.
So, this afternoon, eyes closed I waited for my gift that included a block of wood and crazy-glue. And there she was. All put together. Shiny. Beautiful. Tyler had taken her apart completely and cleaned all the gears inside and oiled them so they would continue working for a long time. He cleaned her up, because she had gotten a good coat of grime all over her from waiting to be fixed. Glued all her beautiful pieces together and attached her to a block of wood, where she could turn and turn and play her beautiful music and I can watch her and remember my grandma. It was perfect.
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