Thoughts on September 11th

On September 10, 2001, Eric and I found out we were expecting our little Grace.  We'd gone through a miscarriage a few months before, so it was very exciting news.

Then the following morning while I was still in bed, I received a phone call from my husband, who was already at work. He told me that the twin towers had been hit by airplanes and that everyone thought it was a terrorist attack.

I spent the rest of the morning gathered with two other mothers in my neighborhood. We were frightened and worried and just needed to be together.

I couldn't help but wonder what kind of a world I was going to be bringing this baby into. I felt vulnerable and scared.  A little part of me wondered if perhaps this world simply isn't a place for children anymore.

Now, 12 years later, I can see that although there are terrible things going on in the world, there is nothing but hope for deliberate mothers. If anything, there has never been a time in history when deliberate mothers were more needed or when their voices could have as much power and influence.

I'm about to step on a plane right now so I can attend our book launch event in Salt Lake City tonight.

In case you are new to this blog and Power of Moms, our book Deliberate Motherhood was just relaunched last week with a new publisher. And tonight we are going to celebrate by hearing from several of its authors and gathering with other deliberate mothers to discuss how we can more powerfully fulfill our roles.

When Saren and I were planning this event, we wondered if perhaps September 11th wasn't the best date for such a gathering.  "Isn't it a day for mourning?" I thought.  But as we discussed what we were going to be doing at this event, I realized that I couldn't think of a better way to remember those who died or honor those who support our country than by doing something to make our families--and thereby our nation--stronger. 

I love our country.  I love motherhood.  And I feel privileged today to get to do just a little something to make this world better for the next generation.

Boarding call!  (Time to go...)

Love,
April

When You Are Hormonal, Don't Talk to Anyone

I just shared this epiphany of mine with my husband:

"When I am hormonal, I shouldn't talk to anyone.  Because I will say something I don't mean, and then I will regret it, and things will frustrate me that really aren't that big of a deal, and the whole world will seem wrong, and I won't see things as they really are."

After listening patiently, he responded, "Will you please go write that down somewhere? And I will etch it in stone?"

Very funny.

But here's why I said it:

This morning was a disaster.  I didn't sleep well, I'm not feeling well, and it's a very hormonal time for me.

A child of mine was also having a hard morning, and so the two of us clashed . . . quite a bit.  We weren't yelling at each other, and it wasn't that bad, but for me, it was tragic.

I got overly frustrated about something that wasn't that big of a deal. (Or maybe is a big deal.  I just can't see clearly right now.)

And then my child reacted negatively to my overreaction.

I dropped that child off at school--both of us in a huff--and then I drove home as a bit of an emotional basket case.

I ranted to my husband for awhile about what a bad mom I was this morning and how I feel like a hypocrite when I do Power of Moms if I'm not mothering the way I should--ESPECIALLY on the day that our book is released.  (Hello!  If I publish a book called Deliberate Motherhood, should I not be the model mother on its launch day?)

And then Eric said the right thing (as usual) and told me I would be a hypocrite if I didn't have challenges I could write and teach about.  Because who wants to hear from a perfect mother who has zero challenges?

I felt a little better after that.

And now I'm writing my new "When-I-Am-Hormonal-Don't-Talk-to-Anyone" rule here on my blog--where it's out in the open--so I won't forget this great piece of advice.

Of course, I'm talking to you right now, and that's kind of breaking the rule, but I'm thinking you'll forgive me.

(Anyone else have special rules they follow?)

Much love,

The not-so-perfect-mother-whose-mothering-book-is-launching-today-and-I-really-AM-excited,
April

Still Smiling About My Last Trip to Long Beach

This has been a fun week.

Deliberate Motherhood is launching tomorrow, Alia is working hard running for a student council position at her middle school, and our fall family routine is in full swing.  There's definitely a lot of craziness going on in the midst of all these activities, but in general, life is good.

I just wanted to take a moment to post my most recent photos and experiences from Long Beach.  This blog has been a special place for me to share some of the really hard moments with my mom and her dementia, but I also want to be sure to share some of the happy ones.

This past Thursday was happy.

We started out with a walk to the local elementary school.  While my boys played on the playground, my mom and I sat by the lunch benches and listened to music.  I got the idea to play music from my dear friend Janine, who told me that it helped one of her extended family members.  And it worked!

My mom liked tapping my iPhone, and with each new song, she would close her eyes and pretend like she was conducting the music.  It was peaceful and beautiful.  (This photo is from Alia.)

It happened to be my parents' 55th wedding anniversary that day, so although we didn't have anything fancy planned, we all gathered around the table for pizza, and then during dessert, Alia put two birthday candles in my parents' bowls of ice cream, and we sang "Happy Anniversary to You" to the tune of "Happy Birthday."

After the dishes were cleared, I thought it would be fun to take my mom out on another walk, but that "Happy Birthday" tune was still in her head, and somehow she was convinced it was my Dad's birthday. (It's really in December.)

"April, the children would be thrilled if we could go into the kitchen and sing Happy Birthday to your dad." she said.

"Oh, I think he's okay," I replied.

But she insisted that we sing, and so all of us gathered in the kitchen and tried not to laugh while we sang some birthday cheer to my smiling dad.

Mom sang her very best--adding in some harmony--and then she wanted to gather in the living room to sing some more.  We sang three different birthday songs and had a great talk with my dad about his favorite birthday parties growing up.  After all that, my mom was satisfied and agreed to another walk.

This time, we went over the bridge to the local library.  It's a lovely place.  You can't really tell by this photo, but directly out those windows is a gorgeous view of the bay.  Doesn't that look like fun? 

I spoke with the man at the desk, and he told me that even though I'm not a Long Beach resident, I can still get a library card there.  (SO exciting!)  This is going to be our new weekly stop.

My mom was a little bit confused, and she kept asking the man over and over again how she could also get a card.  (Did she need her license? Would they let her come next week?)  He wasn't sure why she was repeating herself so many times, so he turned to me for clarification.

I tapped the side of my head and mouthed the words, "She doesn't know."

With a kind smile, he then turned his full attention back to my mom and assured her that she could absolutely get a library card, and he couldn't wait to see her next week.

That meant a lot to me--seeing someone treat my mom so kindly, even when she acts a little out of the ordinary.  We're going to be that library's best patrons.

Once we returned home, I helped my mom into her jammies while Spencer played in her wheelchair. (His favorite toy!)

Then I caught these photos with my phone when my mom was reading nursery rhymes to Alia. (That's a new tradition that keeps her focused on something pleasant.)

Alia recorded this 20-second video with her phone. (That's Ethan in the mirror.)  I had to post it here so you can hear my mom's sweet voice.  (The volume is really low, but this video shows so much love.)

Isn't she an angel?

Oh, I love her.

It was a special blessing to have such a wonderful visit, and I am still laughing about all the funny things she did.

For example, she helped take the grapes off their stems in preparation for dinner, and she was hilarious.  She'd put some grapes into a bowl, dump them onto the table, wrap them in a towel, and then put them back into the bowl. Those grapes kept her totally occupied.

When we first sat down at the table to eat, the children were starting to snack on the food, and my mom said, "Nobody eat until we've had the prayer."

My children all placed their hands in their laps.

And then my mom immediately picked up her piece of pizza and took a bite.

Everyone looked at me, and we tried not to laugh too hard.

Later, when I offered to help her in the restroom, she said, "Oh no, I'll go alone.  I'm just fine."

"No Mom, I'm your special helper!" I replied.

"Well," she said, a little embarrassed, "I've never had a daughter help me in the restroom!"

(My dad and I giggled about that.  It only happens about five times a day.)

I feel like I'm slowly growing out of these "sad" phases.  Of course my heart still hurts for her, but those hard times only make the sweet times more sweet.

Thanks so much for your support.  I appreciate the messages of encouragement from my friends--and from the people who have never even met me.  Thanks for sharing your advice and helping me know how to handle this challenge well.

You mean a lot to me.

Much love,
April

Update on My Mom

It's been almost three weeks since my mom returned home from the rehabilitation center.  I've been able to visit her twice, and there are some great things happening--along with some very hard things.

Everyone in my family is struggling with this slow loss of our sweet mother.  And each of us deals with it in our own way.  My way is through writing, so I'm just going to let everything spill out below.

The good news is that my mom knows her environment now and seems so much happier than she was within the unfamiliar walls of the rehab center.  Between me, my siblings, and some dear friends and neighbors, my dad now is getting help full-time for my mom so he doesn't have to shoulder this huge responsibility on his own.  

Mom is standing better than she was before the second break, she recently got a new haircut, she has some new clothes and shoes that my sister Lisa helped her pick out.  We're in a pretty good routine right now, and I'm finally able to relax during the day because I'm not worried that my mom will fall again.  (That's an enormous relief.  I can't even tell you how anxious I was about that.)

When I go to visit, we spend as much time as we can outside.  Here's a photo from last week when Spencer held my mom's hand while we crossed the street. (See how she points her finger to tell him where to go? She's so cute.)

We ran into our dear friend Marsha while we were on our walk, and I just had to post this photo.  Marsha's daughter Emily is one of my best friends.  We played together every day after school all throughout our elementary years, and now Marsha helps tend my mom sometimes so my dad can go on his walks along the seashore.  She's such a great neighbor.

This is from yesterday.  Alia's a good helper.

This is me and my mom--my best friend.  Doesn't she look happy?

 

So that's all good news.  And I am incredibly grateful.

It's just that along with all this good news, what's happening inside my mom's head is devastating to me.

At the visit to the doctor's this week, my sister found out that my mom's "dementia" can actually now be termed "Alzheimer's."  That shouldn't surprise me, but it still hurt to hear the word.  And I do think it helps me to understand what's going on.  Here are some examples:

At least one hour of every visit is spent in the restroom, helping my mom with those very personal, human needs that become so much harder when a person gets old.  She can't remember what's happening or how long she's been in there or why hand soap doesn't go on toothbrushes.  She pulls things out of the cupboards and wraps them up in towels and tries to hide them in the drawers--all while I'm saying, "It's okay Mom.  Let's put those things away and get you out in the living room to see your grandchildren."

And then she looks so happy and surprised and says, "Oh! My grandchildren are here? Which ones?"

So I tell her their names (even though she saw them just moments before), and by the time we get out to the hallway, she's surprised that they're there (again).

My dad tried to make a cake with my mom last week (to keep her active and happy), but every time he turned his back, she would hide the measuring spoons or some other kitchen gadget he was using (he found some items in the drawer under the stove), and although he was trying to be patient, it was just too much for him.  No cake this week.

I can tell my dad is struggling.  He doesn't know how to say it, but I know he's mourning the loss of his wife.  You wouldn't know it if you saw him, but I think it's harder on him than it is on any of us.

There are dozens of other stories I could tell, but a lot of them are sad, and a lot of them are too personal to post.

I'm handling this better than I thought I would be, but today on my run, I had to stop for a couple of minutes because I was just sobbing.  Same thing when I took my shower.  And right now.  

There used to be little moments of conversation--some recollection of our past together that we could talk about and laugh about.  But yesterday there was nothing.  She talks in circles and keeps trying to "accomplish something," but she can't focus.  She thinks her parents are there in the house with us, and for some reason, she's convinced that puppies and kitty cats are supposed to be there, as well, but she can't find them.

I hug her and kiss her and press my cheek to hers and say, "I love you so much, Mom."

She hugs me back and says, "Oh, I believe it, April.  I know you love me.  And I love you, too."

Last week, she asked me to take her to her bed early and just lie down next to her.  I hadn't done that since college.

I wrapped my arms around her and told her I didn't know what I would do without her, and she reassured me, "I'll always be with you. I'll always be with you."

When I turn out her lights and put the side up on her hospital bed, I always bring my children in to "kiss Grandma goodnight," and then I tell her that I'll be back in the morning so we can make pancakes.  I'm never there in the morning, but she doesn't know that, and the thought of pancakes always makes her smile.

I don't like this process.  It hurts, and it's difficult to manage with my four children--especially my five-year-old, who inevitably spills red punch or a whole bag of Costco goldfish crackers or falls in the bay with his clothes on (when we didn't bring extra underwear).

But this is part of life.  And it's binding all of us together with a common cause.  And I feel God with me, teaching me. 

Thanks for letting me share.  Just having someone to tell makes it so much easier.

Love,

April

My New Love of Exercise

It hurts to move right now.

My hamstrings, abdominals, triceps, quads, and calves are incredibly sore.

But I am feeling so, so happy.

About a year ago, I started writing and talking about body image issues (and how I counted calories when I was nine):

• The initial post is here.  

• The podcast with my dear friend Dawn Wessman (who completely shifted my thinking and helped me to be less critical of myself) is here.

• The follow-up post is here.

I learned a LOT throughout that process, but making exercise a priority has still been a struggle.

Until now.  (Well, it's been 3 1/2 weeks . . . but I'm feeling very optimistic.)

My family and I went to visit our friends Corey and Mandy Berg at the end of July, and while I was there, Mandy and I recorded a podcast together.  You can listen to it here:

Making Time to Exercise - Podcast on Power of Moms

I've known Mandy for about 13 years, and she's one of those moms who loves exercise.  Every time I'm with her, I'm inspired.

This is us about seven years ago:

And here's our "reenactment" - with a few more children - taken this July:

As Mandy and I talked during that podcast, I decided it was finally time.  Exercise was going to become a priority to me--not just something I did "if the day worked out that way."

I'll share more ideas and suggestions that inspired me in the future, but I at least wanted to put this podcast out there and invite any of you who are feeling sluggish and discouraged (and like there's never enough time!) to hear what Mandy has to say.  I think you'll love it.

Love,
April

Deliberate Motherhood - Barnes & Noble

I just had one of those "dream come true" moments and wanted to share.  (I hope you won't mind.)

Ever since I was a high school student, I would walk into Barnes & Noble with wide eyes and stare in amazement at all the shelves stocked with colorful book jackets and engaging titles. 

There's something about that store that gets my heart beating fast.

I can't even tell you how many times Eric and I have sat side by side in the aisles of Barnes & Noble on our date nights, surrounded with stacks of books.  We inevitably leave with one or two new ones (have I mentioned our bedroom is primarily decorated with bookshelves?), and our discussions on the way home from our date nights are always filled with new ideas and animated discussions about our goals.  (He's my soul mate.)

In the back of my mind, I've always hoped that someday I would have the opportunity to put my thoughts and ideas up there on a shelf next to all the others who love writing as much as I do.  And I've always hoped that in that process, someone would walk by and see my book and say, "That's exactly what I need right now."

Well, I don't know when or where or if Barnes & Noble will stock our book on their actual shelves, but Deliberate Motherhood, our first Power of Moms compilation (written by more than 60 moms from our community), is now up on Barnes & Noble's website.

See?

I'm giddy inside.

I keep looking at the page and smiling.

This is a neat moment for me--and for all of us at Power of Moms.

So thank you to all of the wonderful authors of Deliberate Motherhood for helping to create such a fantastic book.

Thank you to our Power of Moms community for coming to the website and supporting us as we do our very best to strengthen families.

And thank you to Familius Publishing for believing in us and making this book appear in so many places!  (The book is being relaunched on September 3rd.  Press "Buy" on the Familius' Deliberate Motherhood page to see all the places where the book is being offered.)

Just one more note: If you have a sizable blog and would like to review a copy of the book, or if you want to stay up-to-date on what's happening with this book project at Power of Moms, please visit our Power of Moms book page for more details.

This has been a huge, huge project--spanning more than three years--but my heart's so happy about it.

Thanks, everyone, for your support! 

Much love,
April

The Things You Can't Talk About

I woke up feeling overwhelmed this morning.

There are some heavy things weighing on my heart, but they're the personal kinds of things that I can't write about specifically on this blog.

Everything is generally going really well in my life right now, and if I did tell you what's troubling me, you might not think it's that big of a deal.  But these challenges are hard for me--to the point that my stomach starts to hurt a little bit, and I kind of want to stay in bed watching movies all day. (Ever had a day like that?)

But I learned something really important during my travels and visits with friends this summer.

I learned that everyone has something going on that they would never post to social media.

In those quiet talks Eric and I had with our dear friends and family members, we discussed things that they or their loved ones are going through--like marital infidelity, divorce, custody issues, suicide attempts, children who were victims of rape, deep feelings of loss over the premature death of a spouse, financial stress, severe parenting dilemmas, and eating disorders.

I felt so humbled after some of these talks, especially as I realized how common it is for the people we love to be suffering more than we know they are.

But then this morning I read a few reminders during my scripture study that brought a beautiful peace to my heart, so I thought I'd share it--in case you're having one of those days where you're not breathing very well, or where you think everyone else's life is just one big party.

First, look to God and live.

This one is so simple, but it makes so much sense.  We keep our eyes up.  We focus on Him.  We make the choice to live (not to stay in bed watching movies).

He has this incredible ability to lift the rest of our lives and to heal us from all those things that hurt inside.  I don't know how He does it, but I know He does it.

His power is amazing.  Amazing.

Second, when we bear all things with patience--because the Lord is with us and has given us power to do so--then at the end of each particular challenge, we will know that He was the one who delivered us.

This is an important point that I keep learning over and over again.  Sometimes God allows us to be put in circumstances that feel impossible because He wants us to know that the only way we got out of those circumstances was because of Him.

We hear this question often: "If there's a God, then why does He let bad things happen to good people?"

My husband and I were talking about this the other day, and He said, "How about we change that question and make it into this: Why does God let HARD things happen to good people?"

That's a much better question.

God knows that when we go through things that are hard, we will turn to Him.  He'll show us how strong He is, and then He'll transfer some of that strength to us.  And He'll provide us mercy--because of His Son.  That one idea is so powerful and comforting to me.

Third, as much as we put our trust in God, that's how much we will be delivered out of our trials and troubles.

Not sure if I phrased that right, but here's what I mean: It seems logical to pray less when we feel like we're not getting answers, but the reverse is actually true.  When we feel like the heavens are closed or that life is too hard or that no one is listening to us, that's when we pray more.  

That's when we pour our hearts out to the Lord first thing in the morning and keep a prayer in our hearts throughout the whole day.  That's when we gather our children around us and invite them to feel that same power in their lives.  We sing to the Lord while we exercise and run errands.  We listen to music or podcasts or videos that strengthen our faith.  We treat others gently and sweetly--like we know the Lord is treating us--and if one single doubt comes into our minds that we will ever get out of the difficulty we are in, we sweep that doubt out and replace it with an increase of faith.

That process has worked every single time for me.

I don't know what you are going through right now, but sometimes I feel like the Lord helps me to know a little bit of the heartache that the readers of my blog are feeling.  That's why I'm writing this here this morning.  (Usually these things would just go in my personal journal.)

I know that the Lord is there for all of us.  He wants to help us with all those things we can't talk about, and as we increase our faith and help others increase their faith, our lives will take on an added measure of power and beauty--beyond what we ever anticipated.

Much, much love,

April