Thank you, Mom!

Read in Jimmy Fallon "thank you notes" fashion:

Thank you, Mom, for literally being the only reason I use the word 'literally' correctly.

Thank you, Mom, for doing my science fair project [board] and making it look like I did it. 

Whenever I think back on all the things my mom did for me I focus on the middle-high school years. I remember all the forgotten assignments brought to me at school, last-minute cramming late at night (hello science fair!), driving from orchestra to cross-country to soccer to basketball to mutual, and drinking green drinks (before they were popular, by the way) with 7-grain crockpot cereal in the morning. I am always so amazed and grateful for that.

One night I was up multiple times with each child and I kept thinking " You have no idea what I'm doing for you right now. You will never know how hard this is for me. You'll never even remember tonight- how I brought you water (Eliza), got soaked in spit up (Andrew), and rocked you for an hour to keep you from screaming (both). You will never appreciate this sacrifice because you will never remember tonight."

Then suddenly I realized that one time--- roughly 24 years ago, I too was a baby and had sweet mom who rocked me all night knowing that I would never remember it, and did it anyway.


When I think about all the things my mom has done for me I completely overlook the long tiring months of being pregnant (and the period of time of not being able to get pregnant), the long painful labor she did drug-free, and the sacrifice she made to leave teaching school to stay home with my siblings and me. Even if she did cry when she was told I was a girl, she still loved me. She nursed me no matter how painful it got. She rocked me to sleep every night so I could fall asleep happy. She woke up countless times in the night because I woke up countless times in the night. With my little brother (child #5!!) she would walk all night bouncing him because he would only sleep being held and would cry if she sat down. And then she had to get up early to get other kids to school! Once they were off she still had that baby and a three year old to take care of all day! And probably coached somebody's team in the afternoon! Plus she likely taught a few piano lessons or took the other kids to various sports/music practice. How?! How did she do it? How can someone be so sleep deprived and drained from giving literally everything they have into their family and just keep going day after day, year after year? I feel like I'm drowning with a newborn and a two year old. I can't even imagine having a new-born, a 3 year old, an 8 year old, an 11 year old, AND a 13 year old. A newborn AND a teenager? Now THAT'S what I call a super power!

She cleaned up mess after mess and cooked meal after meal after meal after meal after meal (repeat forever). The stress, the anxiety, the worry, the sleepless nights, the soccer games, the [boring] track meets, counting diapers and blocks to make sure nothing got lost and searching tirelessly until they were found. We give her a hard time about it but let's be honest--- I'm simply too lazy to care if all 80 Megablocks make it back into the toy box.

Moms, especially mine, deserve a serious shoutout for all the things they've done that have gone unnoticed and unappreciated for so long.

Thanks for the long, sleepless nights. All the meals, all the rides, all the meals, all the practices, games, and performances, all the doctors appointments, all the green drinks, herbal tea, foot massages, in-home hair color experiments, the parent teacher conferences, the meals, the trips, all the sports equipment, and the all the love. This list could go on forever (literally). 

Thank you Mom. 

(I love this picture of my Mom!)

God loves us. Always.

"God does notice us, and he watches over us. But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs." -Spencer W. Kimball

But sometimes, God does notice us and while watching over us, He meets our needs himself in small little blessings throughout day.

In May we moved from Logan to Salt Lake into my parent's basement. I was 8 months pregnant and we only moved about a quarter of our things, the rest was in storage to move to Pullman, WA at the beginning of August. It was sad and stressful to leave Logan, it was frustrating to not have all my things with me, and while I am so grateful for my parents in letting us stay in their basement, it's stressful to live in someone else's space. The birth of my 2nd child was quickly approaching and I had to decide if I was going to have a repeat c section or try for vaginal birth. While I was leaning towards the c section, it felt as if everyone thought that was the worst idea ever and I felt like a bad person for wanting it. Stressful. My first was 21 months old. Stressful. Things like insurance, student loans, getting housing and everything else for Pullman figured out, worrying about the new baby, worrying about how Eliza would handle it, and life in general.... Stressful! I wish there was a stronger word to use.

I was exhausted. I wasn't sleeping in my bed, with my pillows, with my sheets... and I was 8 months pregnant with a body that was falling apart. 

So exhaustion + hormones + stress=

Here's the word so many people are afraid of...ANXIETY.

And my anxiety became depression. I was depressed. I didn't want to get out of bed, I didn't want time to move forward because that meant change. And change was the last thing I needed or wanted.

I prayed. Not very well though. Laying on my side briefly mustering up a few thanks and a few requests before painfully drifting off into an uncomfortable sleep. 

Scripture study was even worse. I'd get at least a verse but if it was more than that my weary brain would wander into other territory. 

Despite my lack of effort, despite how little I was trying to connect to God, He still blessed me. I've always believed that blessings follow obedience. But I was not doing the little things that usually bring the spirit into my life and allow me to feel close to God. In fact, I didn't feel close at all. And I didn't really feel like trying.

But every day, multiple times a day, I felt God's love for me. Every day I heard that still small voice whisper to me over and over, "I know this is hard. I know you're doing everything you can and I know you don't feel like it's enough. And I love you. I love you so much, I will take care of you. I will get you through this."

I always meant to write down the little blessing that happened but never got around to it. They were so minuscule that I can't remember most of them now. 

But one I do remember: I was on the phone for something and received bad news about that something (pregnancy/newborn brain has caused me to lose the details). I hung up about to break down in tears but I noticed I'd gotten an important e-mail I'd been waiting for at that exact time. Such a little thing, but I knew that God was on my side and no matter how many frustrating phone calls it took, everything would work out for me. 

Another time I went to the grocery store and found exactly what I needed on the first time down the aisle. Some people might not think that's a big deal. But it was to me. It was huge in that moment. That's exactly what I needed. 

Little blessings. Every day. God was watching over me. And I know he loves me.  Now I'm in a much better place and am able to pray, read, and serve with more fervor and the blessings just keep coming. Because He is my Father and I know he loves me. I know he loves each and every one of us. He is constantly pouring blessings out because we are our children. Even though we aren't perfect, even though life gets us down, he is always there for us. Always. 

I've taken myself for granted far too long

The other day I was looking for a picture and came across these pictures from my freshman year of college:

There was something in these pictures that shocked me. The girl in those pictures is NOT the girl in my memory. I won’t go into all the details of the differences between those two Aimees because they aren’t important to anyone but me. What is important is that the girl in those pictures is reality and sadly, the girl in my memory has been warped.

Suddenly I realized- I’ve been taking myself for granted. I have not fully appreciated myself for all that I am...and that’s so sad. I’m not talking just about weight, looks, and running ability either. It got me to thinking about all my talents and abilities that I have not appreciated how special they are. For example, people used to tell me what I great smile I had. That actually happened a lot, especially from people that I didn’t even know. I always thought it was weird and never saw what they did. But I can see it in those pictures- I see so much more clearly now what they saw. (This isn’t supposed to sound vain so I hope it’s not coming off that way).

I have been given so much but I have spent far too much of my life focusing on what I wasn’t that I’ve ended up wasting a lot of time.

To further illustrate this point, I’ll take you back to my high school track days. I wanted to be a miler, it’s only four times around the track. For a while my fastest time was a 5:32. Now, if you’re not a runner that sounds fast. But I promise, it’s not. It’s good, but not great. That time wouldn’t get me to a state meet. So when I finally broke my record and got a 5:28 I was ecstatic!!! Breaking the 5:30 barrier was huge for me! But that excitement didn’t last long. Maybe only until my next mile. I didn’t get another 5:28,in fact I never broke that time. To this day I have never run a mile faster than 5:28. I was so focused on where I wasn’t, I didn’t appreciate how fast I was. but now I wonder, when would I have been happy? How fast would I have had to get to feel like I was a good enough runner? My guess is it wouldn’t have happened. If I could have beat 5:28 I would have been thrilled for a short time and then I wouldn’t have been happy until I beat that next personal record and the next and the next.

I’m not saying that I shouldn’t try to improve- of course I should. I just wonder how things might have been different had I celebrated where I was at and what I did to get there instead of constantly berating myself for not being better.

I do this to myself all the time. I’m not a great housekeeper. But holy smokes I’m so much better than I was when I first got married. Yet I’m still constantly getting down on myself for it. Dave has to remind me all the time that it’s ok and I can try again tomorrow. And he really appreciates my growth. I’m so much better than I used to be and that's something to celebrate while continuing to improve.

I think we can celebrate our gifts and talents and still be humble. In fact I think we all need celebrate ourselves a little more. I believe this will lead to more happiness and greater success. Let’s not waste our talents by not acknowledging them until it’s too late.