Monday Musings- Journal Entry for my daughter

Yesterday in Relief Society we had a lesson about keeping our family history and journal writing.  We talked about memories we don't want to forget.  We laughed about memories that are no longer painful or embarrassing having faded with time.  I shared that I feel like my blog is my journal-- since I write in it pretty regularly about day-to-day life and crazy things my children do.

I've been thinking a lot this week about pictures of me with my children.  I recently received an email from my mom with pictures (which she got from my favorite cousin) of my grandmother as a young mother and then on into her later years.  My heart ached a little not ever having known my grandmother.  She passed away before I was born.

I wonder what it was like and is like for my mother to mother her own children without her mom around to call.  I call my mom or she calls me several times a week.  I am so glad I have a great relationship with her.  I cannot imagine not having this relationship.

As a child I looked up to my mom as the perfect example of what a mom should be.  She was of course, the one I saw every day growing up teaching us by her words and example.  All I ever wanted to be was a mom.  My earliest memories of wanting this calling of motherhood go back to being five years old when my youngest sister Rachel was born. 

My children are young enough to still think that I know everything and that I'm the perfect example of what a mom should be.    Gabbers has even said to me (with great enthusiasm), "When I'm a mommy, I will have a big bum like you!"

Yesterday before church, Bun exclaimed as I was bathing one of the babies, "Soon Gabbers will be a mommy too."

I thought his innocence was sweet but feared him going to church and telling someone that same thing.  So I said, "Well, yes, in about twenty more years she will be a mommy."

To which Danny overhearing in the background added, "Yes Bun, in about twenty years Gabbers will be allowed to go on a date."

I sometimes worry that I'm not as sensitive to the needs of my little girl as I should be.  She's tough and bossy and the ring leader most of the time.  Is it because that's how I am?  Or maybe it's because I have five boys. 

But Saturday she was brought to tears after Danny scolded her for being rude about the smell of eggs that her brothers were eating for breakfast.

She hates eggs.  She used to be allergic to them and it was a big deal to make sure she had no contact with them at all or anything baked with them.  I think because of that she has a negative opinion about eggs. 

Saturday morning as she ate her cereal she waved her hand in front of her face saying, "Ew yuck.  Those eggs are stinky."

So when Danny asked her about her tears, she choked them back saying she was just blinking too much and that her eyes were a little wet and she was drying them.

All of this in a not very direct, off on a crazy tangent sort of way brings me to, I hate to have my picture taken.  Even when I was doing pageants from ages 17-20 I have never felt pretty and never wanted to be captured on film.

I don't want my only daughter to feel that way.  I don't want my boys to feel that way either, but I think girls are more likely to feel doubtful or negative about their feelings. 

I want my daughter to know the joys and also the realities of motherhood.  I want her to embrace it and love it as I do.  I want her to know that if anyone tried to explain to me as a six year old girl that it was the hardest job ever I still would've chosen it and still wouldn't have known the reality of just how hard "the hardest job ever" truly is.  But it has the greatest benefits.

I want her to know that when she lets her kids down and doesn't make it to all the class parties like all the other moms, it doesn't mean she's a bad mom.  It means she's a busy mom trying to make sense of the madness and choose which things to selectively neglect (thanks Mom W. for that phrase).  Next time I will be ready, armed with the knowledge that class parties are very important to Gabbers and I should place it high on my list of mommy-priorities. 

Dear Gabbers,


You are so innocent and pure.  When I watch you sleeping at night, I think about the self-doubting moments you will likely experience in life.  My heart aches that I haven't been a better example of a woman loving herself.  Yes, I do love my job as mom.  My calling as mom is very important and I treasure it every day.  (some days more than others). 


I want you to know that even though you are looking forward to this stage in life yourself (and you ask me frequently "When will I be a mommy?"), right now you have a very great calling.  That calling is to be a daughter of God.  You ARE a daughter of God.  You have a divine calling and a responsibility.  You are of great lineage destined to do great things.


I am glad to see that you like people.  I am glad that when I drop you off at school that the other children run up and hug you because of your friendliness.  I am glad to see you like to have your picture taken and that you like to get all prettied-up.  I'm glad to see that you are pleased with the beauty of the world.  I love it when you pick wildflowers and bring them to me with a big smile on your face.  I love your drawings.  You have a beautiful imagination and a natural instinct to nurture others. 


Do not forget as you grow up in an unsure world, who you are and where you come from.  Remembering this will lift you up and help you endure the hardships.  And never forget, you are beautiful because you are YOU. 


Love,


Mommy

My goal for March:  Take more pictures of myself with my children.  It will be my birthday gift to myself and future generations.