Most of the dreams I have, I forget, or if I do remember them, they make no sense.
Well, the night of July 21, 2015, I had a dream I will never forget. The power of the Holy Ghost was so overwhelming, that it consumed my thoughts and heart during the dream, and after I awoke.
That particular night, I dreamt about Joseph Smith:
A large group of church members were at gathered at church because a play was going to be done about the Prophet Joseph Smith.
The setting of the dream was in modern times with modern conveniences.
There were so many people, that not everyone could fit to view the play. I, and a group of other people, had to sit in a classroom and listen to the play. I was actually quite content with that, because that room was actually where the actors’ offstage was located.
I remember being so excited to see the man playing Joseph Smith. After one scene, a mob scene, the actors ran into the classroom.
I was so happy to meet him. Somehow, this man looked exactly like the actor from the Joseph Smith movie.
For the rest of my dream, though, he was no longer an actor, but the real Joseph Smith.
I remember sitting at his feet and speaking to him. I talked to him about my favorite part of the gospel (In real life, the evening I had my dream, the missionaries were in my home and asked my husband and I to answer that very question). I told him it was the Holy Ghost because he testifies of truth, and because he can provide us with spiritual power to be able to testify of the truthfulness of the gospel and to do missionary work.
The Prophet Joseph told me that I was missing something important, and that I needed to focus on Jesus Christ.
He walked away then. I felt crushed and a little mad, since he didn’t offer any other explanation.
Soon, everyone in the building heard many loud noises and screams. We found out that a real mob had come to find Joseph and kill him. The mob was going around to every room searching for him. The mob finally came to our classroom. A woman in the mob yelled angrily that she could tell one of us was hiding something, and she pointed right to my son, Casey.
He fearfully said he had to go to the bathroom. I stood up with him, and took him there. The mob didn’t stop us.
We were so scared. I wondered where Joseph was, and if he was okay. I was crying a lot, and praying with my son.
I don’t know if the mob left, or if they just went elsewhere, but I soon saw Joseph again.I sat at his feet, tears streaming down my face. He stayed very calm, and asked me how I keep Heavenly Father fresh in my mind.
I told him that I pray to Him, and also that I often ponder on the Plan of Salvation. He was pleased with my answers. I don’t remember what else I said, but the thought stayed with me of how important it is to always keep Heavenly Father in my mind.
I felt so happy in Joseph’s presence. He told me that he would be okay, and that the mob would not hurt him.
He had felt that this would happen, so long before he had come that night, a plan was formulated on how to hide him. A master carpenter had changed a large wooden cabinet into a wall, so Joseph could hide behind it as long as was necessary. Nobody would ever think to look behind a wall for him.
He was prepared to stay in there as long as needed, and there were members who would have brought him food, water, and clothes.
I felt a deep, abiding love for the man in my dream – a respect, a reverence and an admiration I cannot describe.
When I awoke, I felt that the Holy Ghost had testified to me in my dream that Joseph Smith was a true prophet. He also had given me a small taste of the horror the early Saints went through as angry, hateful mobs – armed to kill – invaded their homes and lives.
I am grateful for this dream. The tears flowed during the dream, and as I wrote my memories of it. I already knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I have known that for a long time. Now, though, I feel like I know him, and I have received counsel from him that he would have told me had I lived when he did.
“The fundamental principles of our religion are the testimony of the Apostles and Prophets, concerning Jesus Christ, that He died, was buried, and rose again the third day, and ascended into heaven; and all other things which pertain to our religion are only appendages to it.” – President Joseph Smith, Jr.
When I was a young adult, moving into the marriage and family mindset, I had some ideas of what I would and wouldn’t do or allow as a parent.
I always figured my kids would stay up late sometimes, and eat junk food on a regular basis. But, I never thought I would do or allow these things:
1. Let the kids eat food in the car, or while walking around the house.
To be fair, I still don’t prefer this, but sometimes, the only way to keep kids happy on long car trips is to let them eat. And keeping the kids sitting at the table sometimes takes more energy than I have left for the day.
2. Eat and drink after the kids.
If you have ever really just watched little kids eat, there is a lot of drool, double dipping, and backwash going on. It is kind of gross. For some reason, though, when it is your kid, it isn’t so gross. And, in my case, I hate wasting food. If my kids don’t want to finish something yummy, like ice cream, or cake, you better believe I am finishing it up.
3. Take the kids places when they are in disarray.
I used to judge the parents who took sticky and stained kids out in public. Now, I understand. Little kids don’t let you clean them up well. Plus, it takes like 30 minutes just to get them ready to get out of the house. Sometimes you just don’t have that kind of time. And shoes? Well, sometimes I assume my husband put them on, and sometimes he assumes I did, and well, sometimes neither of us did it. They’ll be fine.
4. Let them make huge messes.
I don’t do this often, but sometimes, I allow the kids to do messy, chaotic things because I know it will be a memory we will all laugh at later. I used to just stop them and get mad. Now, I see the joy in their faces, and the bonds they make with each other as they spray each other with the hose, throw rice in the air, or paint themselves instead of a picture.
5. Make contact with my kids’ snot and boogers.
Sometimes, your kids need a tissue and you just don’t have it. My fingers more than once have been used to swipe away snot, and to pick out big boogers.
I know, gross. Well, other times my little ones are really sad, and they want to snuggle and give me kisses when they have snot running down their faces. Do I push them away? I couldn’t do that, so I go ahead and kiss their snotty faces, and let them wipe the rest on my sleeve.
6. Roughhouse with them.
I always thought this would be their dad’s job. It is when Daddy’s home, but my three boys want to wrestle, ride on shoulders, and swing around just as much when Daddy isn’t home. My shoulders, arms, legs and back are much stronger than they would be without my boys.
7. Let them sleep with my husband and me.
The kids never start out in bed with us. Sometimes, though, they wake up in the middle of the night. The little ones always come to our room for comfort. We are usually way too tired to sing to them, talk to them, get them stuff, and then put them back to bed. So, we usually hoist them up and lay them in between us. Only when they start kicking us, rolling on top of us, or smacking us, do we put them back in their rooms.
8. Give in to their cuteness.
In our house, we have rules that we try to enforce. It is much easier to enforce these rules when the kids are school-aged. When they are little, though, they are still so adorable. I usually can see past it, but my husband is a sucker for their little eyes, smiles, and pouts. So, sometimes I give in because he does.
I am ashamed to say that sometimes, I even go so far as to laugh when I am reprimanding them, just because they are so adorable.
9. Be the disciplinarian.
This is another one I expected Daddy would do, since that was how it was in my house growing up. But, since I am like my dad, this is more my thing. As I mentioned above, I don’t give in as easily as my husband. I have always been a rule follower, so I expect my kids to do the same. I am not always proud of how I discipline, but I see this as a growing opportunity to help me control my temper, and be gentler.
10. Talk about uncomfortable things in great detail.
I have two little ones, but I also have an older child. I have talked to him about many serious issues in great detail, like sex, pornography, puberty, bullying, etc. I got the watered down version of most of this at school and church, probably because family and teachers hoped the less I knew, the less I would do. Though some of these things can be uncomfortable to talk about, I have realized that as I educate my child about these important issues before outside forces do, he is better prepared for what will come up outside of the home.
At the end of the day, are my kids healthy and happy? Are they educated, loved, and looked after? Yes! So, it is just fine with me that I am a different kind of parent than I thought I would be.
To all the women out there who have chosen not to have children,
I am writing to you as a wife and a mother. You may expect me to judge you, and to tell you what you have probably heard many times – that you are selfish or must not value family.
It may be hard for me to understand how you chose not to be a mother, but rather than judge you for this personal decision, I instead will respect you as I would anyone else.
Because I know life certainly does get harder when you have kids, and that parenthood is a life-long sacrifice, I actually do understand many of the reasons why women do not want children:
Social pressure
I am sure you don’t like being pressured to have children. I agree that this choice should be made between husband and wife. Only peace and joy should surround you as you choose to conceive.
Fear of pregnancy, delivery and body changes
I admit that pregnancy can be uncomfortable, and delivery excruciating. Why then do women do it, and then do it again? For me, as I hold my new baby in my arms, I forget about everything but the overwhelming love I have for my little angel from Heaven. As a mom of three now, my body has changed a lot. However, I believe my stretch marks and stomach pudge are a testament to the loving sacrifice I made to bring my sweet babies to the world.
No more freedom
It is true that when you have kids, you have to think about their well-being in every decision you make, and every place you go. Your hobbies and interests can’t take center stage anymore. Even though this is one of the hardest parts of being a mom, I am grateful that I have learned to put others’ needs before my own, helping me be happier and humbler. I have also learned to balance my life so that I can still stimulate my mind, and do things I like to do. It is a matter of multitasking, prioritizing, and simplifying, all skills I have better developed being a mom.
Husband on back burner
You can still cleave to your husband when you have children. You may not have the quantity of alone time you want, but the quality of love you have for each other can be magnified as you observe each other loving, playing with, and teaching your children, and when you witness precious moments together.
Couples striving to be better parents will develop into better spouses.
Wicked world
You might believe the world is too wicked to bring more children into it. If so, I say, who better than couples who recognize the world is wicked to have and raise children? Your home would become a sanctuary from the outside forces. You would raise your children to be good, righteous people, who would be an influence for good amongst their peers and in the world. People will always have children. We need more good parents to raise them.
Already an aunt
Are you just happy being an aunt who can give the children back? I know that you must love your nieces and nephews dearly. I personally have loved many children in my life, but no love has ever come close to the true, pure love I feel for my own children who are half me and half my husband, who I helped create, who I had a bond with before they were born, who rely on me and their dad for everything, and who love me back, and trust me more than anyone else in the world.
Perhaps it is tempting to want to be able to give back a child so you don’t have to worry about the mundane things, or the tantrums, chaos and stress. Trust me, though – for you own children, you would love them enough to do anything, for they need you to help them thrive. When you are raising your own children, you are also able to better learn from their sweet, Christ-like examples of love, forgiveness, humility, and so much more.
Not qualified
Take heart if you are a woman who doesn’t think you have what it takes to be a good mother. Becoming a good parent is a journey for all mothers, even those who seem to know what it takes. Moms are supposed to be patient, temperate and gentle – all things I personally need to work on. There is no better way for me to develop those skills, and so many others, than by devoting much of my life to raising my children. With motivation, hard work, study, family support, and a lot of prayer, any woman can be a good mother.
You might simply be a woman who never felt she wanted children, so you haven’t.
I don’t want to pressure you to change your mind. My humble suggestion to you is to keep God close. Pray to Him for guidance and direction. Ask Him if the decisions you make, and have made, are right for you, for your husband and for your spiritual growth. Be open to His will, no matter how difficult.
I know as I keep God close to me, and make Him a partner in my marriage, I am able to make decisions that will most benefit me temporally and spiritually. I am able to endure well all of the trials and worries that come my way. I am able to magnify my callings and roles, including that of a mother. I think that is why even though being a mother is the hardest role I play, it is also one of the most beautiful, precious and growing opportunities of my life.
Perhaps, after praying sincerely, with an open heart, your mind will see things differently. No matter what God’s answers are for you, if you follow them, you can live your life with peace.
A woman once said she would rather regret not having children, than having children. By making your decisions with God, you won’t have to regret anything.
I believe the most wonderful influence we will ever have will be in our own homes. It is for you, your spouse, and God to determine who will live within those walls. May God bless you.
This post is part of a blogger round-up with these fabulous bloggers! Make sure to visit each to read what they are sharing about the divine roles of fathers and mothers.
In church this past Sunday, we sang a hymn entitled “Come, Come Ye Saints,” by William Clayton.
It is a beautiful song of hope that the Mormon pioneers sang as they made the long, treacherous journey across the plains to the Salt Lake Valley:
1. Come, come, ye Saints, no toil nor labor fear;
But with joy wend your way.
Though hard to you this journey may appear,
Grace shall be as your day.
‘Tis better far for us to strive
Our useless cares from us to drive;
Do this, and joy your hearts will swell–
All is well! All is well!
2. Why should we mourn or think our lot is hard?
‘Tis not so; all is right.
Why should we think to earn a great reward
If we now shun the fight?
Gird up your loins; fresh courage take.
Our God will never us forsake;
And soon we’ll have this tale to tell–
All is well! All is well!
3. We’ll find the place which God for us prepared,
Far away in the West,
Where none shall come to hurt or make afraid;
There the Saints will be blessed.
We’ll make the air with music ring,
Shout praises to our God and King;
Above the rest these words we’ll tell–
All is well! All is well!
4. And should we die before our journey’s through,
Happy day! All is well!
We then are free from toil and sorrow, too;
With the just we shall dwell!
But if our lives are spared again
To see the Saints their rest obtain,
Oh, how we’ll make this chorus swell–
All is well! All is well!
This song is very close to my heart. It reminds me of my Granddad. He was our church’s organist for many years, and he had a God-given gift for music. The way he played this song, I will never forget.
The fourth verse is the one he would play differently. When he played the first four lines, he would always play very softly, reverently, and with a much slower tempo. Then, as he transitioned into the fifth line to the end of the song, he swelled the music loudly and joyfully.
I can’t sing this song without crying my eyes out. I always feel the Holy Spirit, and this time, I also felt the presence of my Granddad with me.
I felt him send me a message that all is well with him too. He died on April 11, 2006, of Alzheimer’s. He had also struggled with his eyesight and hearing for many years. He was one of the most wonderful men I have ever known.
Granddad is happy, and I know he is doing a great work on the other side. All is well with him, and I know that all will be well with all of us who dedicate our lives, as he, the pioneers, and many others have, to the Lord.
I was not my mom’s first pregnancy. She had lost a baby before me. That tragedy would make it even harder to handle the trauma of her second pregnancy: me.
I was due around August 17, 1984, but I was born June 21, 1984. I was eight weeks early.
On June 16, 1984, my mother was working the cash register at Kmart. By the time her shift ended, her ankles were completely swollen, and she was in so much pain, she could barely walk.
My dad had come to pick her up from work, like he always did. Upon evaluating his wife’s condition, he told her manager firmly that this was her last day.
My mom took it easy the rest of that day and the next. In the middle of the night on the 17th, she got up to go to the bathroom. On the way there, blood started gushing from her body.
In a panic, my dad quickly drove her to Chippenham Hospital in Richmond. On the way, my mother was having painful contractions.
At the hospital, she found out the reason why she was hemorrhaging: the placenta was tearing away from her uterus. (My mom actually has a misshapen uterus. It looks kind of like a heart because there is a wall going down the center of it.)
She got medication to stop the contractions. Throughout the night, my mom also got multiple ultrasounds to check on her unborn baby’s lungs.
She did not sleep at all that night. She was put on complete bed rest, and had to stay in the hospital for the next four days.
On the evening of the 21st, since she hadn’t had any issues, the doctors let her get up to use the bathroom on her own.
Immediately after my mom got out of bed, she started hemorrhaging again. She was rushed back to bed, and the ultrasounds started again to check my lungs. I can’t imagine how scared she must have been.
My dad was not at the hospital during that time, because he was at school. While in class, he got a prompting to go to the hospital, so he left early.
When he got there, he saw my Nana and Granddad (my mom’s parents), who had been there anyway for a visit. When he found out what was happening, phone calls were made to my aunt Kathy, my aunt Betsy, and my Grandma (my dad’s mom) to come to the hospital. Back then there were no cell phones, so it was a blessing that they all responded and could be there for my parents.
Because of her intense hemorrhaging, my rapidly decreasing heart rate, and breech position, Dr. Crooks prepared for an emergency C-section, where my mother would have to go under general anesthesia.
Before the operation, Dr. Crooks allowed one person, other than my father, to visit my mother. My aunt Betsy (my dad’s sister), and my aunt Kathy (my mom’s sister), fought over who would get to see her. My Nana remembers Kathy firmly saying,” She is my sister.” Needless to say, Kathy was the one who got to see my mom.
Sadly, nobody, not even my dad, was able to be with her during the actual C -section, but my mom wasn’t afraid. She simply pled to Dr. Crooks, “Please save my baby.”
He responded to her, “We are going to save you first.”
That was when my mother realized that not only was my life in danger, hers was too. That thought was the last thing she remembered before going under.
My dad wanted so badly to be with my mother, but he had to stay in the waiting area with everyone else. What made it even more traumatic, was that the doctor told everyone that they might lose one or both of us.
My family gathered in a circle and prayed. My Nana said she believed it was Granddad who offered that prayer.
My dad remembers crying bitterly, and then the warm embrace of his mother comforting him.
All they could do was wait, with prayers in their hearts.
Finally, they were told that I had been born, and that Mom was okay. I was born at 9:30 PM, a mere 3 pounds 10 ounces, and 17 inches long.
When my mom finally awoke from the general anesthesia, she got the wonderful news that I had survived. Her face fell, though, as she was told she wouldn’t be able to see me yet.
Dad had seen me though, and held me. He could cradle me in one large, strong hand.
He, and the rest of my family, watched as I was prepped with needles, IVs, tubes, and a u-shaped tank over my head to provide me with oxygen. Right as they were about to attach something to my heart, the curtains were closed.
I had to be rushed to MCV because there was no NICU at Chippenham Hospital. My mom was not able to see me before I was taken away.
Dad went with me in the ambulance, unable to visit my mom first. She stayed behind, enduring her intense pain and exhaustion.
When I got to MCV, I was put in an incubator. My dad was allowed to go beyond the glass in scrubs, but nobody else was.
Meanwhile, my mother’s good friend from work, Robin, also had her baby, full term. They were put in the same hospital room. The nurse brought Robin her baby and then asked my mom if she wanted hers.
Her heart aching, she said, “My baby isn’t here.”
This is a picture of me with Robin’s baby when we were about 2 months old.
She wasn’t able to see or hold me, but her heart was with me. She also helped me survive by pumping milk for me to be fed through a feeding tube that went down my throat into my tiny stomach, because I had not yet developed my sucking reflex. I only ate about 2 CCs of milk at a time.
I also had acid reflux and couldn’t digest food on my own. Because of that, I had to take medication. Thankfully, I never was put on a respirator, but I was given oxygen to help me breathe.
Two days after I was born, my mother finally got to go to MCV to see me. My dad drove her there, and wheeled her to me in a wheelchair.
My Nana, who had been having a lot of hemorrhaging issues herself, was scheduled for a hysterectomy that same day. Before her surgery, she watched my mother go to my bassinet to hold me for the first time.
She recalls my mother’s initial look of horror at looking at me with all my wires attached. Then, the most precious moment happened: as soon as I was placed in her arms, it was as if a switch was flipped. Her horror, in an instant, transformed to “total, perfect, and complete love.” Nana had never seen anything like it in all her life. It was such a change.
While Dad was in the room with the two girls he loved most in the world, he watched the rest of the family “cry like a baby” behind the glass as they saw this true love unfold.
Nine days after being in the hospital, my mom was finally able to go home. She and my dad came to visit me at MCV every day, and she continued to pump milk for me, until I was also healthy enough to go home. My dad recalls what “a pain” it was to drive back and forth every day, not knowing when they would be able to take me home.
They were told so many times that in just a day or so, they would be able to take me. Then, they would be told no because I wasn’t digesting well enough, and hadn’t gained enough weight.
As my parents visited MCV during that period of time, they met many families with premature babies. Babies passed away all the time. One day the parents would be there, and the next day they would be gone because their baby had not survived the night. It was heartbreaking.
After being at MCV for a month, my parents could finally take me home. I weighed in at a humble 4 pounds 5 ounces.
That same day, my mom finally had her baby shower, while my dad and aunt Kathy watched over me.
Everyone had to shop at a special preemie store to buy clothes and diapers for me. It was located right next to a friend’s, Steve Montrose’s, carpet store. To give me an idea of how small I was, my dad said my diapers were about the size of a Cabbage Patch Kid’s.
When my parents took me home, they also took home a heart monitor. I had a heart monitor at MCV too, and it constantly had to be re-calibrated, so my parents were a little anxious. There was a Velcro band that had to be wrapped around me, with wires attached. I slept with the wires underneath my little sleepers.
The reason I need the monitor was because I had sleep apnea. My parents were told to shake my leg any time the monitor went off and I stopped pumping blood.
At first, the heart monitor went off all the time, scaring my parents to death. They got no sleep that first night because they were so worried about me. They were so relieved that I made it through that first night. It was actually hard for them to sleep any night. Every time that monitor went off, they ran and checked on me. I had this monitor for six months! My dad told me that my little chest was concaved from having that band around me all that time.
My health was not the only thing that heavily burdened my parents. They also went into huge debt after my birth. My mom had gotten pregnant before their health insurance went into effect, so when she had me, her hospital bills were not covered. Luckily, mine were because I was an emergency delivery. My parents would receive many calls and letters from collection agencies, causing them a lot of stress.
My mother reminisced with me about her feelings during this time of new motherhood. She had been only 22 years old, dealing with the anxiety of having a premature baby who needed so much care. She pondered on how she could have lost her life in the delivery room. She felt so blessed to be alive and to still have me. She said I wasn’t even as small as some of the babies born later term than me. She had been told that baby girls are stronger and fight more, so she was so glad I had been a daughter.
She tried to nurse me after bringing me home, but it was so hard since I had never nursed before. By then, I had gotten used to a bottle. My mom was so worried I would lose weight and go back to the hospital, she started me on formula. Thankfully, I slowly started to thrive.
When I was two months old, Dad gave me my baby blessing at church. My Nana and Granddad had purchased my beautiful blessing gown from the preemie store. Of course, my family thought I looked beautiful, but my dad remembers an audible gasp in the congregation when he held me up.
Nana, Mom, and aunt Kathy with me
I continued to grow, though, and at six months old, I no longer needed my heart monitor.
For Christmas that year, my present, and my parent’s present, was no more wires for me!
To celebrate my new freedom, Nana and Granddad presented me with a huge, and super soft polar bear – the softest stuffed animal they had ever felt.
Nana remembers when I first saw it, I looked at it like, “What am I supposed to do with that?” She chuckled softly as she thought about that moment.
I thrived, and my mom said I ended up being as big and chunky as her friend, Robin’s, son, who had been born full term on the same day.
This is the first picture of me in photo albums where I started to look chunky.This picture makes me laugh!
Apparently, I also got prettier. A friend of my family, Gisela Tetterton, said that I was the prettiest baby she had ever seen.
Nana said that I grew quickly because I had a very strong spirit. Physically, because of my underdeveloped esophagus, I could have easily died. But, I didn’t. She is sure it is because of my spirit.
To her, it has been evident ever since. I have always been determined to be what I wanted. That strong spirit still remains, Nana says, a spirit equaled only by my mother’s spirit.
Nana said that my mom was determined that I would survive so that she could love and rear me. She was willing to have more children, even though she had miscarried her first baby, and almost lost me.
Mom, Dad, me, and my baby brother, Aaron.
Nana confidently said that there was no way, with the combination of her daughter’s mental and spiritual capacities that things wouldn’t have turned out beautifully.
She lovingly told me that I am spiritually strong like my mother. My mom had just come that way, just like me. Nana believes that is because she was pregnant with my mother the day she was sealed in the LDS temple to Granddad, and her first baby, Danny. She always felt having her there in the womb had something to do with mom’s spiritual side.
My Nana knows how to make me cry. Her love is pure and strong. She told me that she treasures all of the pictures of me as a baby laughing and smiling, especially at her and Granddad. Because of the situation surrounding my birth, Nana has always had a sweet spot for me. My whole life, we have sung “I love you, a bushel and a peck” to each other. She is just as special to me as I am to her.
I know my parents were grateful for all the help my grandparents and other family members gave to them in my very difficult first several months of life.
When I was 1 year old, MCV had a reunion at Maymont Park in Richmond. For my parents, it was wonderful to be reunited with the nurses that had loved me and taken such good care of me. I hadn’t even been the smallest baby they had ever seen, which only reiterated what a miracle it was that I lived.
I still have that bear I got on my first birthday.My whole life, I celebrated my birthday with my Granddad, whose birthday was one day after mine.
When I was in the hospital, my parents were told that I could have mental or physical disabilities from being born so early, but another miracle is, I never did. I grew up healthy and happy.
To this day, I have scars on my hands and feet from the IVs. My mother still has a very crooked scar on her lower abdomen from her emergency C-section. My parents have a joke that Dr. Crooks “couldn’t cut a straight line.”
These scars are something to be grateful for, to hold sacred. They are a memory of God saving two lives, one of them being mine. I will eternally be grateful to my Heavenly Father for giving me the opportunity to live on earth, and to be raised by such loving parents.
I have never been so grateful for my parents as I am now, now that I have finally heard all of their memories of my birth, and the first very difficult six months of my life.
My dad told me that when I was two, I never went to bed when I was told. I got out of bed so many times, and often I would be found sleeping at the foot of my parents’ bed. I remember doing that when I was older too. I am sure it was because of the true love I felt for my parents, knowing their love and devotion kept me alive and nourished me into a healthy little girl.
I am so happy that they took a great leap of faith to have more babies after me. My life has been blessed beyond measure by having siblings.
Eddie and Laura Thacker have helped me become the woman I am today. I am so grateful for their examples and for all they do for me and my sweet family now.
Most of all, I am grateful to be alive, when it makes no sense that I am. I know that Heavenly Father has a plan and a mission for me. I owe it to Him to serve Him my whole life, and serve His children. I hope to help save souls just as He has saved my life.
I know that miracles happen. I have had many of my own. I will be eternally grateful for all of them.
Note: This was my perspective at the time I wrote this post. It is ever-changing and is no longer completely accurate here.
I have a brother who is funny, kind, intelligent, musically gifted, a friend to all, and a very supportive and loving uncle and brother. He is someone I respect and love with all of my heart, and one with whom I share many happy, and hilarious, memories. He also happens to be openly gay.
When he asked me to watch a documentary last year called “For the Bible Tells Me So”, I gladly agreed to watch it. It was a documentary that greatly affected me. I sent my brother my most sincere thoughts and feelings from the film:
…As I watched and heard some of the views people have, I was astounded. I always knew there were prejudiced people out there, but I didn’t realize there were so many gay-bashing people, especially Christians.
As a devout Christian, I can say that I know that Christ would never condone this hatred and persecutions of gays. He loves all people equally and tells us to love all people, and to forgive all people, and to judge no one.
I am in total agreement with a lot of the points: you can’t change a person who is gay. Being gay is not a choice. Forcing a gay person to hide his orientation is detrimental. SSA is not a disorder or illness. I agree with all of that, and so does [The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints].
I agree that often the Bible is taken out of context, and I appreciated the interpretations of what some of the scripture passages in the Bible might have actually meant. I think the reason there are so many Christian churches is because people pick and choose what to believe from the Bible, and [also] study passages out of context.
I have so much sympathy for what gays go through. I have not even thought of this, but I imagine you have gone through persecution in your life. I hope not; I really do.
I wasn’t there when you came out to Mom and Dad, but I commend you for being honest and telling them everything… That must have made them sad because I think all parents hope their kids will get married and have kids of their own.
Mom and Dad never expected to have a gay child, but they did. I am totally aware there is a possibility one of my children could also be gay. If that is the case, I would want him to be honest with me, and I would still love my child with all my heart.
I got a lot out of the documentary. I found I related the most to the black family in Haw River, which is only like five minutes from Mebane, where they love their daughter, but don’t rejoice or encourage her lifestyle.
Now, as I say that, I have thought a lot of what it must be like to be gay. I am not, so I can’t have that empathy. However, if I were gay, I would imagine that I would want what most anybody wants: a romantic, long-lasting relationship. Suppressing that desire would be so difficult, and being confident, while being a widely misunderstood and feared minority, would be a definite struggle.
Aaron, my heart is with you, and I do not judge you or hate you or fear you or find you in any way disgusting. You are my brother and I love you with all my heart. Out of all my siblings, you are the one I bond with the most. I [also] have many gay friends, and have always been comfortable around them…
I will always believe, however, that marriage should be between one man and one woman. It is not because I hold on to those few Bible verses. It is not because I have a huge passion for the definition of marriage. It is because I have a strong testimony of God and of [modern day] prophets. I believe that God knows more than we do, and that sometimes He has commandments that don’t seem fair or make sense to us as humans. I believe someday we will understand.
Here is what I do understand: life on earth is short. Life after death will go on forever. This life is a time to prepare to meet God. If I am a true disciple of Christ, my focus should be not on how to bring happiness to others on earth only, but to bring happiness to people in this life, and especially in the life to come. God always meant for a man and woman to be together. Only through that union can children be brought into this world. True joy comes from this family unit.
You may ask, why then would He allow people to be gay? That is a question I have too. I think out of all struggles, that would be one of the hardest.
That is the extent of my understanding and my testimony. I don’t understand everything. I don’t hold the stance I do because I am bigoted or because I don’t want equality. I have the stance simply because that is what I believe God wants. That doesn’t mean I am totally comfortable with it. Being a Christian sometimes means taking leaps of faith, and walking in the dark until God reveals more light.
At the end of the documentary, one of the parents said that she wants to help the churches change. If Christ is the head of Christianity, only He can change His doctrines. Otherwise, the church would be a man’s church. I disagree with her opinion, but I do agree that Christians need to act like Christians and accept gay people into their congregations and into their hearts.
I hope this commentary gives you some kind of peace and clarity, if there was ever a thought in your mind that I didn’t love you as much because you are gay. I hope you never ever think that because it is not true…
I wrote this message to my brother nearly a year ago now. I meant every word I said, and I still believe it with all of my heart.
I know my brother, and many other people are ecstatic about the recent Supreme Court ruling, legalizing gay marriage in all 50 states. I understand why they are happy. When I first found out my brother was gay, 10 years ago, I was actually very adamant about supporting gay marriage because I wanted my brother to be able to be happy, and to have the union that I had with my spouse.
My feelings have changed since, but not because I love my brother less (in fact, I am closer to him now than I have been in a long time).
Rather, my feelings have changed because I have recognized that I have a duty, as a baptized member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to stand as a witness of God at all times and in all things and in all places.
I have taken more seriously the first and great commandment, which is “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.” I know that to love my God with all my heart, I must keep all of his commandments, not just some of them. If I believe that God created the divine institution of marriage, than I must choose to follow Him by supporting His definition of marriage. I can still love one another as I obey this commandment.
I have tried to start living my life by considering good, better, and best options. To me, the best way is always God’s way.
The problem is, we differ in our definitions of God’s way, and many people do not even believe in God, or believe in a different god.
To quote from Fiddler on the Roof, “He’s right and he’s right? How can they both be right?” Tevye, whose previous comments provoked this puzzlement, answers and says, “You know, you are also right.”
No, it cannot be both ways. Either traditional marriage is right or gay marriage is right. They cannot both be right.
I must believe and do what I believe is right. I believe God is still speaking, and that He has upheld his charge that marriage should be between a man and a woman only. I have seen the blessings of leaving my parents and cleaving to my spouse. I know that there are divine roles for both men and women, which when combined in righteous unity, can lead to harmony in the home, and provide the most ideal setting for raising children.
As I do what I believe is right, I certainly do not want to be contentious, or contribute to any feelings of division in our land. Know that I believe everyone is a child of God, and are loved equally by Him. We all endure various trials over the course of our lifetimes. We will also be tempted, and oftentimes succumb to that temptation. We are always equal for these reasons, and we must treat each other as such.
To both sides, I plead to please stop the hate. Please stop the fighting and name-calling. We do not understand everything about each other, God, or even ourselves. Rather than divide ourselves because of our differences, let’s unite because of our similarities.
I recently asked Aaron if he was offended that I often eat at Chick-fil-A, a company that is very pro traditional marriage. His answer is a profound ending to this discussion, and something I hope we can all reflect on:
It doesn’t bother me at all, actually. I even have had it in the last couple of months. It did bother me at first; I didn’t want to support a business that didn’t align with my political and personal views. But then I thought, do I want to encourage destruction or growth? By encouraging myself and others not to go there, in protest, I was hoping in some roundabout way that their business would fold. If enough people stopped going, they would be FORCED to change or fold. On the other hand, by continuing to go there in love and peace, I am encouraging growth and acceptance in Chick-fil-A’s employees. I want to promote understanding, not violence. I can’t do that if I’m not present.
Update: My brother and I had a lovely conversation about my post. He even had a stranger message him and thank him for his example. In our conversation, Aaron said something profound, a message I had actually almost written myself. I suppose it needs to be shared:
If #lovewins is to really mean anything, we must treat all with love! Not just those with whom we agree on any given matter.
This post is part of a blog hop with these wonderful bloggers! We’re talking about our marriages, giving tips, and sharing what we’ve learned, but most importantly defending traditional marriage between a man and a woman.
This is the version I submitted to Family Share before it was re-edited and published on their site. See which one you like better:
Sometimes in a dating or marriage relationship, the commitment and happiness decline, and the relationship goes terribly south. When this happens to you, you wonder where the problems lie, and who is to blame. Truth be told, the fault is usually shared, though not necessarily equally.
Reflect on these characteristics of a devoted partner to see how you are influencing your relationship for better or for worse:
1. You are loyal.
You do not participate in anything that would arouse lust. You do not flirt with anyone else. You are upfront and honest with your partner about what you do every day. When things are hard, you stick by the one you love, rather than go to someone, or something, else for comfort.
Someone I loved wasn’t loyal to me, and it was really hard for me to trust him again, or even get over my feelings of disgust and betrayal. Trust can be rebuilt with change, but he sadly didn’t value our relationship enough to change.
2. You show affection often, in word and in deed.
You say “I love you,” kiss, hug, hold hands, and do sweet, tender gestures. You are thoughtful, and make holidays and occasions special. You spend quality time with your significant other, and do things that will strengthen your relationship. You are authentic, and do a lot of laughing and having fun. You reminisce about why you fell in love, and tell your partner often what you love about him/her. You share your dreams for your future together.
I know that without this tender affection, the romantic spark can totally go out.
3. You communicate with love, patience, and respect.
You encourage and uplift, rather than nag or criticize. You compliment and show praise every day. You only speak kindly of your partner to your friends or family. You do your best to express your thoughts, feelings and concerns without yelling, fighting or calling names. Should you falter, you sincerely apologize. You say what is bothering you, rather than turning inward and pushing the other away. You never let your pride be more important than your love.
Humility is something my husband and I are working on to improve our communication. It makes all the difference.
4. You value your significant other’s thoughts, feelings, and interests.
When you make decisions, you think of how they would affect the other. You respect your partner’s opinions, even more so than those of your parents and friends. You listen, and you validate. You would never ask your partner to do anything that makes him/her uncomfortable. You comfort when the other is sad; you support when the other struggles; you celebrate when the other succeeds. You appreciate the talents, skills and hobbies of the other, and try to learn from them. You are unselfish, and put your partner’s needs before your own.
In my marriage, I get most upset when I feel that my husband isn’t listening or validating my feelings. I feel so loved, though, when he just sits with me, listens to me, hugs me, and tells me he loves me.
5. You can be happy without your significant other.
You do not base your self-worth solely on the fact that you are in a relationship. You can feel confident, fulfilled and happy when you are apart. You do not get insecure, or worried when you cannot talk to or see your significant other at all times. You love yourself, and know that no matter what happens, you are special, you are loved, and you have so much to offer.
I have seen people be so clingy in their relationship, that they push the other person away. Then, if it doesn’t work out, they don’t know how to function. Please remember that your partner needs your trust, and also personal time.
6. You are doing your best to be a good person.
You choose your friends carefully. You want to associate with honest, unselfish, giving and loyal people who don’t break the law or play with hearts. You are not entertaining harmful addictions. When you make commitments, you keep them. You work hard, and you humbly recognize your strengths and weaknesses, and are constantly working to refine yourself.
Though I don’t have personal experience with all of these things, I have seen someone I love struggle as she dated a young man who did break the law, pretend to care more than he did, and break commitments. She would try so hard to be loyal and stand by her boyfriend, while he would flirt with other women, do drugs, and even steal.
I do have first-hand experience with what addictions can do to a relationship. One who has an addiction does not have freedom over his thoughts, emotions or actions. He is irrational, selfish, unproductive, dishonest, unkind, and sometimes violent.
7. You love God and put Him first.
You know who your Creator is, and you want to please Him. You strive to show you love Him and others by keeping His commandments. You take time to pray, read your scriptures, and ponder on all the blessings God has given you. You are a light to others as you serve them in love.
This quality has been the most valuable to me in my relationship with my spouse. When we both are striving to put God first, we really are more patient, loving, and service-oriented.
In contrast, my first marriage ended mostly because of sin and selfishness. I can promise you that individuals who strive for spiritual cleanliness, are much better suited for a healthy relationship.
Because nobody is perfect, you won’t do all these things perfectly all the time. However, if your relationship with your spouse or significant other is taking a dark turn for the worse, reflect carefully on the part you are playing. Do the very best you can, and if nothing changes, it may be time to consider a change. God bless you in your relationship and in your life.
I wrote this article for Family Share. It feels good to know I can help others through sharing my experiences and lessons learned during difficult times of my life:
It is hard to know when you should date after a divorce. I was 21 years old and a recent college graduate, trying to raise my baby boy. I had just moved across the country to a place I had never been. For me, whether I was ready or not, the first thing I wanted to do was date.
Everyone who divorces has a different story, but most of us share feelings of failure, fear and desperation. We are trying to fill the void in our hearts caused by losing our spouse. While change is difficult, dating when you aren’t ready can make things even more challenging.
I wish I had known then what I realize now about dating after a divorce. I know that I would have avoided tears, frustration, and a few heartbreaks. There is not a cookie cutter rule on when you should start dating again. The goal is for you to have healthy and happy dating relationships, but no one but you can say when that will be. However, you can get an idea of where you stand by answering “yes” to these eight questions:
1. Do I live each day without wallowing in self-pity?
If you spend most of your time weeping about all that has happened to you and can’t imagine moving on, you are not ready to date again. Divorce is horrible, I know. And it is okay to cry sometimes. But if you can’t see hope, dating will not help you find it.
2. Have I moved on from my ex?
If you are still in love with your ex, you will probably compare everyone you date to him or her. It will be impossible to find anyone who is good for you if you are only dating to compare. Stop measuring every date against your former spouse and treat dating as a fresh start.
If you aren’t over your ex, you may also find yourself mentioning your ex one too many times which will push your date away. Take the time to be over your ex before you start dating again.
3. Am I ready to talk about my past?
When you are dating, at some point you will need to talk about your past. I remember when I was newly divorced, I was scared to death to tell any young man about it. I especially didn’t want to tell my date that I also had a baby boy. I was afraid that no man would accept me because of my past. Sometimes I would hide it until it became impossible to continue dodging questions.
I realized that I needed to be ready to talk about my past. By the time I met my second husband, I was at a point where I could talk about my past almost right away. It went smoothly, and I didn’t regret it.
4. Am I happy where I am now?
In my early divorced days, I thought I couldn’t be happy unless I was remarried. Especially as a single mother, I wanted my life to be a certain way. I was engulfed with an urgency to date and get married. I am sure I came off as desperate.
Because I was so focused on wanting a life as a married woman, I missed out on some true friendships. I missed out on having fun and truly appreciating the joys and blessings that I still had in my life. Although this isn’t what you thought your life would be like, you can learn to be happy in your situation.
5. Do I love myself?
If you don’t love yourself, dating again can be a nightmare. You will feel like you have to keep secrets to maintain a perfect and unrealistic image of yourself. No matter how you hide it, low self-esteem shows and it isn’t attractive. Take time to learn to love yourself. If you have self-confidence and know your inner-worth, you will be able to talk honestly, listen better, and smile radiantly. If you love yourself, you will still have your self-worth even if a new relationship doesn’t work out.
6. Do I know what I want in a relationship?
Perhaps you were in a relationship where your spouse was selfish, or even abusive. Have you figured out what kinds of behaviors you want to avoid, and which qualities you want? Do you know what you really need to have a relationship that will last forever? It is a good thing to be picky if you are looking for life-long happiness, rather than another divorce.
7. Have I forgiven my ex?
It can take a long time to forgive your ex, especially if you felt that he or she was the main cause of your pain. I can testify of the great peace that comes from forgiveness, and how necessary it is. To find the right person for you, forgiveness must be a part of your process.
8. Would I want to date or be married to someone like me?
Though it would be nice if divorces were always your spouse’s fault, most of the time both people share some of the responsibility. Are you in a place where you would be a loving, caring, and devoted spouse? Or would another relationship only end in more heartache? If you aren’t as good as the person you want for yourself, it is time to improve.
Being divorced does not make you less of a human, or less worthy of love. I found a wonderful man who loves me, and cherishes our growing family. There is hope for all who have had the misfortune of divorce. Don’t rush the process. Take the time to heal. You will have your chance at love once again. It is worth it to be patient to find someone who will be with you forever.
I am the oldest of four. My brother, Aaron, is two years and two months younger than me, and my other brother, Mark, is five years and two months younger. My only sister, Mariah, is eight years and 10 months younger than me.
My relationships with each of them have ebbed and flowed over time. I love them all so much, and wish to share my strongest memories and feelings about each of them.
Aaron
When we were little, Aaron and I were best buds. We colored out of the same coloring books at the same time. Sometimes we did coloring and drawing competitions. Most of the time we didn’t cheat by tracing, but sometimes we did.
Aaron went through a phase where he drew countless pictures of Jafar from Aladdin.
We sang Disney songs together in the fan, to make our voices vibrate. He played paper dolls and barbies with me, and I played trucks and Ninja Turtles with him. He would wake me up early on Saturdays to watch all of our super hero cartoons. We also watched tons of movies, mostly Disney (his favorite was The Little Mermaid and my favorite was Lady and the Tramp).
It wasn’t all roses, though. We had arguments over whether long noodles were called “spaghetti” or “basghetti.”
Sometimes I would blame him for things I did (my parents always assumed it was Aaron, anyway). Once, I was in my parents’ room and I saw a dark pink jar. I turned the lid to open it, and I accidentally spilled out this strong-smelling liquid (I found out later it was used to clean jewelry). I quickly got my mom’s towel from the bathroom, and sopped it up. My mom always had a long doily thing on her dresser then, so I know it got soaked. I think I left it there. My dad questioned us that day. When he asked me if I did it, I denied it, looking down at my food. When he asked Aaron, he said “I don’t know. It’s possible I did it.” I think he ended up with the blame, but didn’t get in trouble. Yep, I was a good sister.
As we got older, and I bloomed into adolescence, Aaron and I seemed to fight more than get along. At an age where I locked my door to get some peace, he took that opportunity to be as annoying as possible. He would stand outside my door and start making this weird clicking sound with his tongue, making it louder and louder (we called it the “tongue thing”). Then, he would stick his thumbnail into my lock, and slowly unlock the door, all the while making that maddening sound. I would scream, run to my door, and press all my weight into it so he couldn’t get in. I would prop my feet up on the wall in front of my door, even, just to keep him out. Sometimes, he would employ the help of our little brother, Mark. I couldn’t win then, not even with propped feet.
That is the face of an annoying brother for sure.
Aaron would also be annoying at the dinner table. I remember one night, while we were reading scriptures after dinner, he made me so mad. Every time he read a sentence, he would sniff, loudly. Like EVERY SINGLE TIME. I wanted to smack him. I tattled on him, but my parents were completely unaware of how he was trying to ruin my life.
I am still not done. We had three couches in our family room, and two of them were good for TV watching. Well, Aaron would always sit on the same couch as me. He would perch so that his butt would be up in the air, facing me. He did it on purpose to aggravate me. I hated it when he taunted me with that heart-shaped bottom. I would always lift my leg up high, and bring my heel down hard on his butt. He would just laugh, which drove me even more crazy.
As he became an adolescent, all this annoying stuff died down. I wish I could remember a lot about our relationship, but really, I just remember that I put him down sometimes because I was jealous. At one point, a girl at church really liked him, and I was upset because I didn’t have anyone who really liked me. I remember telling him that she flirted with other boys, and he shouldn’t go out with her. I wasn’t always sensitive to my brother’s feelings, and I regret it now.
Even though I wasn’t always a good sister to him, and he was kind of annoying, he was always a great friend to others, hilarious, loving, and a very talented pianist.
Aaron and I didn’t see each other much for the years after I graduated high school. It wasn’t until a few years ago, that we started to reconnect, and even then, he had times when he lived other places. He is about to go to Peabody Conservatory in a few short months.
I am really going to miss him. He is so intelligent, funny, loving, sensitive, talented, humble, among many other things. He is the best uncle in the world to my children. They love him so much. He is so much still like a kid himself, so he is so much fun. I can always have a great conversation with him too.
Thanks for being my brother. I love you.
Mark
You already know that Mark would help Aaron unlock my door.
When he became a toddler, after his cute baby stage, he became our annoying younger brother. Aaron and I would try to play, and Mark would want to play too. Didn’t he realize he was in the way?
Once, we were all lying on the floor playing, and I thought it would be fun to take my gum out of my mouth and slowly string it onto Mark’s hair. Oops, I couldn’t get it out. In a panic, I got some scissors, and cut the gum out. Later, my mom was worried, thinking Mark had a bald spot. I felt guilty and told her the truth. I learned that day that peanut butter will get out gum. I am sure I got in trouble, too.
Mark was a cute little boy. He was really chubby, with kind of buck teeth. He always wore huge t-shirts to bed without shorts. I remember he would sit in chairs and we could see his underwear. Aaron and I would giggle about it. Once, I drew him in my “journal” (Aaron and I had composition books we drew in).
When he got older, he and Aaron played all the time. They had separate rooms, but ended up sharing because Mark always wanted to be with Aaron.I think when Mark and Aaron became close, was around the time Aaron started to be annoying to me.
I don’t remember having a really close relationship with Mark. He was so quiet, and always to himself. He drew a lot. He was really talented. I, unfortunately, don’t remember having much in common with him.
However, when he got old enough to really play without being in the way, he would join Aaron and me in our puzzle building, gameboard playing, cartoon watching, make-believing, and trampoline jumping.
As a teenager, I was really busy with homework, drama club, and, as Mark recently reminded me, singing musicals in my room (mostly Phantom). I am sure that is why I didn’t have a strong relationship with Aaron or Mark during those years.
Then I went to college. When I came home, Mark was still in high school, and I had a little boy. I remember thinking Casey looked like Mark when he was little. It was nice to have Mark around. He was good at holding Casey for me.
He even drew a portrait of Casey as a baby for his a high school art class. That was awesome. I still have the portrait.
Mark and I have had a few good talks in our adult years, though he isn’t much of a talker. I remember one time he told me how much he admired me and how I lived my life. I will never forget that, and I appreciate it so.
Now Mark is married to a lovely Brit named Laura. I helped Laura find her wedding dress. I set up my house for their wedding, and even made their wedding cake with Swedish fish.
Mark and I have more in common, now – more to talk about. We also both have love for cooking, and have made yummy things together.
I am so grateful that he made the decision to marry Laura, and that he has stuck with her through hard times. I have very high hopes for the both of them in their continuing life together.
He continues to be a fabulous artist, a quality I admire greatly. I keep hoping he will get back into it, and bless others with his God-given gift.
Mark, I am so glad you are my brother. I love you.
Mariah
I was much older than Mariah, so I helped out with her a lot when she was little. She was the cutest Easter baby ever, and the chunkiest. No, really, the chunkiest. Think Michelin man.
When she was a newborn, my mom wouldn’t let me hold her unless I was sitting down. I remember not liking that. I wanted to do what my mom did. I loved having a baby sister.
When she was about two, Mariah was terrified of the vacuum cleaner. Every time my mom vacuumed, I held her in my arms until it was over. I cherished those moments as her protector.
I remember fondly how she used to say “hunder” instead of thunder, and “marshfellow” instead of marshmallow.
I remember watching Barney and Blue’s Clues with her all the time.
She was so adorable, and so sweet. She was still pretty young when I went off to college. She was not even 10.
After college, my divorce, and my move to North Carolina, Mariah was at the agreeable age of 13. She was huge into jewelry. She had some cute clothes, some I even borrowed. I let her borrow some of my clothes too, like a dress for her career day at school.
I found a lot of her passions annoying – well, maybe one passion – a boy who didn’t treat her well that she was madly in love with.
Mariah and I have butted heads many times since I have lived in NC. We are so different.Those of you who know us, know what I am talking about.
I used to make the mistake of acting more like her mother than her sister. She hated that, and resented me for it. I have worked really hard to change that – to be a loving, supportive sister who offers a listening ear and genuine advice, minus the judgment.
We have been much closer the past couple years she has been out of high school. Mariah is a wonderful person. I am so proud of the young woman she has become. She and I are still very different, but we share the ultimate goal of having a loyal marriage and raising happy children.
I admire her love for animals, her desire to make a difference in this world, her acceptance of everyone, and her giving nature. She is a hard worker. She also is a fantastic aunt. She spoils her nephews, and loves them to death.
I love you, Mariah. Sisters forever!
The Thacker Kids
Mandy, Aaron, Mark and Mariah. We are the Thacker kids. We grew up in VA, and now are all together (for a little longer) in NC.
We are a passionate, stubborn, hard-headed, slightly crazy, bunch. We love good food, and loud laughs. We are full of love for our family. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for raising us. You did a great job!
I took the boys to the library last Monday night. I don’t usually look forward to it because Kamren always opens the elevator, he and Rigel try to run upstairs, and one or both run in the aisles. When in line to check out, Rigel was trying to touch the big screen. I asked him to stop, and went to get him when he didn’t. I then heard a voice call my name, “Amanda.” I looked up to the other young man working. He asked: “How do you do it? How do you raise
three boys?”
I answered that they love each other very much and are usually good boys. I chuckled as I told him that they bring me much more joy than pain.
As I walked to the car, I felt that I needed to give this young man a better answer, and I thought about it all evening. As I started to pay more attention and take notes, I was shocked at how much thought and work goes into raising kids. After over a week of pondering, here is “how I do it:”
Make the most of my time.
I speed walk around the house, doing everything as quickly as I can before the kids start fighting or something gets broken. On my way to do a task, I pick up toys and books from off the floor.
I also multitask all the time, often using one arm to do one thing, and the other to hold a child. I help Casey with his homework while starting dinner and cleaning the kitchen, or make a phone call to an insurance company while playing outside with my kids. If I put something in the microwave, you better believe I am using that minute to wash a few dishes. When there are groceries to bring in the house, I use all my strength to make only one trip.
Make the most of nap time.
There are a lot of things that can’t be done well when the kids are awake. During these couple hours, I usually pick up the really messy things as quickly as possible, and then spend the rest of the time doing things that I need or want to do – church responsibilities, reading, shopping online, talking to friends, planning, and blogging. You would think I would nap during nap time…
Get some me time.
This helps rebuild my sanity, and also helps me miss my kids. I am with them most of the time, but when my husband is home, sometimes I go work out, go to a church activity, or go to the movies with friends. Sometimes, we get a babysitter, and go somewhere fun together!
Deal with daily destruction.
Boys are really rough and crazy. They are constantly jumping off things, pretending to fight with “swords”, throwing things, and tumbling around.
Every week something in my home gets messed up. We try to learn from every destructive act by putting something up higher, locking more doors, listening for when it is “too quiet,” or buying more durable or less expensive
stuff.
My house is also a little greasy, and I have to be okay with the fact that I can’t keep it spotless. We often find dried up food on door knobs or the wall. There are always crumbs on the floor and smeared food on the couch. We just clean it up as we see it and move on. The kids will probably always have stains on their clothing, or messy hair.
Making a mess often makes the kids so happy, so sometimes we sit back and let them do it (or help them in the process). Seeing them make memories and have fun is more important than avoiding a mess.
Do a lot of physical activity.
My boys love to have piggy back rides, play “run from mommy,” pretend to be super heroes on the trampoline, and spin around so much, everyone falls down in dizziness. They want to run, and run fast. They want to be outside all
the time. I have to somehow find the energy to do all this physical activity. Luckily, I have their dad, who can take on that role a lot of the time.
Do activities together.
I want my boys to be best friends. My husband and I really think hard as to what toys to have inside and outside, and what special things we can do that all of the boys will enjoy, at their very different ages. We also encourage them to play together, to hug each other, and to help each other.
Going places as a family helps us make fun memories, and learn more about each other’s interests. It also helps decrease boredom and irritability to have something to look forward to. The kids always enjoy going to the children’s museum, the library, the playground, the park, and play dates. Sometimes we take them out to eat, to a movie, or on a trip.
Be flexible.
Things aren’t always going to go according to plan. Kids can get sick or hurt. The weather might change. Someone might cancel a play date, or an activity might be postponed. It is important for me to stay positive and flexible, so I can help my children do that too.
Be silly!
When I am having fun, being silly, and laughing with the children, they enjoy life even more. The house is lit up in joy. We do a lot of tickling, and making goofy faces and funny sounds. Much giggling ensues.
Show love and attention to each child.
Our boys have very different needs and personalities, so they all need individual attention. They want to show me what is important to them. I need to make sure I focus and show them I care.
They also communicate in different ways. Kamren barely talks, so I have had to learn how to decipher him. I often tell him to “show me,” and he takes my hand.
All of my boys really treasure affection. It could be by cuddling, giving hugs and kisses, playing with them, or saying “I love you.” It is so important that they feel equally loved.When they are in bad moods, it is usually because they need attention, so I give extra hugs, talk to them, or tell them I love them.
Praise and reward them.
My boys need to see their mother as their biggest fan. I congratulate them on their hard work, hang up their drawings, attend my oldest’s award ceremonies and performances, reward my oldest when he does well on a
report card or gets an award, and do lots of high fives and fist bumps when they cooperate, do something nice, or learn to do something new.
Celebrate special occasions and have family traditions.
We make every child’s birthday special. We do a special meal and cake. We usually have family over, but also sometimes do parties. We also do special things for all other major holidays. They are definitely times to
look forward to.
We have some fun traditions too, like whenever we make pizza or get a fun snack, we eat it picnic style while watching a movie. Every Sunday, we eat dinner with our extended family, and when the weather is good, we take walks together.
Capture adorable moments.
We always need reminders of how much we love and cherish our children. I feel it the most during those quiet moments when they are reading together, watching a movie together, or sleeping. This is when they appear the
most angelic. I treasure the pictures I take and the stories I write about my three boys.
Teach them constantly.
I do my best to answer their questions. I read them a lot of books. I point things out, and explain things when I see teachable moments. I help Casey with his homework daily.
Jad and I also teach by letting the kids help us cook, fix things, fold laundry, vacuum, and garden. We share our talents and hobbies with them to build connections, and expand their capabilities. For example, I teach Casey
piano, and Jad teaches the children Arabic.
If one of the kids is trying to do something, but struggling, I don’t just take over. I give them some time to try again before I help. Often, they teach themselves.
Manners are also something we constantly teach. I don’t know what it is about boys, but they think all kinds of bodily functions are funny. I try to teach my boys to say “excuse me” when they burp, etc. I also remind them to
say “please (Kamren gives me a kiss instead),” “thank you,” “you’re welcome,” and “yes, ma’am/sir.”
Give them responsibilities.
I want my children to be self-reliant and learn the value of work. My oldest has the most responsibilities because he knows how to do the most. However, the little ones know they need to clean up their toys, put their dishes in the sink, and put their leftover drinks in the refrigerator. We sing the “clean up” song a lot in our house.
Be strict and enforce the rules.
My kids need to know who is boss. Having a lot of rules helps discipline them, and enforcing the rules helps them learn the value of obedience and respect. “Yes, you are always going to wash your hands after using the bathroom or eating.” “No, you are not going to play and run around until after you have eaten all your food.” “You can’t play with your friends if your room and bathroom are disgusting.”
There are so many rules the kids, especially my little ones, ignore. My husband and I have to follow them and make sure they are following the rules, and if they aren’t, we have to redirect them. If my oldest breaks a rule on purpose, there are consequences.When they hurt each other, we always make sure they apologize and give each other hugs.
Provide for their temporal needs.
My husband and I make sure our children are fed, clothed, rested, bathed, warm, socialized, and happy. This includes in the home and outside it (got to keep the diaper bag well-stocked). As they get older, we help them learn how to do these things themselves, but we are always focused on their well-being. Most of the time, we make sure their needs are taken care of before our own.
Keep them safe.
There is a lot of looking around, holding of hands, calling of names, yelling to stop, and running to catch up in my mom life. Kids do not understand how dangerous the world is, so my husband and I are constantly teaching them about looking both ways before crossing the street, wearing seat belts, staying close to mom and dad at all times, not touching certain things, etc.
Run errands with them, even though they are crazy.
I always kind of dread going to the store, the library, or anywhere the kids need to reigned in and quiet. The opposite always happens. I could just wait until my husband is home to run all the errands, but time with him is limited. I want our family to have fun when Daddy is home, not worry about all the things we have to do.
Don’t worry about what everyone else is thinking, but just do my best.
People are going to judge me for having three kids, and for going out in public with them. They are going to judge my parenting by how my children behave. It is very important for my self-esteem, my sanity, my productivity,
and my relationship with my children, to not care what other people think.
Even without thinking of what others are thinking, I can sometimes be hard on myself when I can’t keep the house clean, stay patient, or have the time or energy to accomplish all my tasks. I try to remember to just do my best
based on my capacity for that day, and then strive to be a little better the next day. My children know I love them. With faith and hard work, I know I can endure all the hardships of parenting.
Ask for advice.
There is no instruction manual for moms. It is really hard to know what to do in every situation that comes up. I ask for help from other moms who have gone through things I go through. Often, I get really good advice on how
to help my kids, and even how to be a better mom.
Be united with Daddy.
It is so important for my husband and I to be united in rule-making, disciplining, traditions, and in all other aspects of raising our children. Children need a safe haven. If Mommy and Daddy show love for each other, they will know they are safe. They will feel loved, and want to be at home.
Keep God in our home.
We sing a lot of children’s hymns in our house. We also read the scriptures every night, and pray as a family often. We have pictures of Jesus around the house, and talk about how He loves us. We do family nights where we
talk about how to be better children of God. Our sweet kids find comfort in these routines, even if they don’t always seem to be paying attention. Love is stronger in our home as we make God a big part of it.
Pray a lot.
My husband and I aren’t perfect parents. We really struggle with stress, lack of sleep, and concerns about our children’s behavior and happiness. We pray constantly for patience, for guidance on how to better teach and show
love to our children, and for the well-being and safety of our family.
I don’t parent my children alone. My husband, God, and I raise them together. That is how we raise three boys.
