A Good Day Follows A Bad.

Even though Mother's Day was a ways back and June gave me some stuff she made at school, I found another stash of presents from her that she had hidden and then forgotten about.

This reminds me of my mom, and subsequently of myself. My mom is famous for finding good deals, and she used to load up on candy bars from Hy-Vee when they would go on sale for 5 for a dollar. And then she would hide them around the house to save them for a special occasion, and then said special occasion would roll around and she couldn't remember where she hid them. 

I have done this same thing for many holidays--not being able to remember where I hid the presents or the treat for FHE or what have you. June seems to be inheriting the mom brain early.

June's other presents consisted of this drawing with her favorite "shape": a smily heart face.

And these are always fun:

I'm as nice as Gwen? That's frightening. I love that June considers herself smart and funny and helpful. This paper was more of a compliment to herself than to me. HA!

I have a good night's sleep every three days or so. I still have to get up multiple times to go to the bathroom (sometimes up to 6 or 7), but I can sleep well in between and go to bed early enough the night before that I wake up feeling decently rested. Other nights, I am up for two to three hour stretches at a time, fighting restless legs and discomfort and anxiety and heartburn.

So the days alternate between good and bad as well. I can usually be okay without one good night's sleep, but the second time in a row I'm pretty much toast. Yesterday was like that. I was foggy and weak and my back was hurting. I discovered that I had given June the wrong lunch and completely forgotten to pack her morning snack. We didn't go many places. Just to story time and then home. Harris was grumpy because he just wants to play outside, and this also makes Gwen grumpy because she loves people and staying home is boring.

So we were kind of a mess yesterday, and this sort of day happens more often than I care to admit.

But today has been good. I slept well, and we started off at the park.

Even though my stamina is limited, I made the decision that I would yes as much as I could to Harris, who always has endless demands on our outings. Which meant on the way out, we stopped at the baseball diamond so he could run around. And I let him open and shut the minivan doors a few times, his favorite.

So the kids were in good moods as we ran errands after we left the park this morning.We made a stop for Dan's birthday tomorrow and a couple other things, and everyone listened. 

I wish I would remember this more often--invest in my kids, and they are easier to work with! Or maybe it's a form of pre-earned bribes. Manipulation. Whatever, it works.

It has turned warm lately. Springish/summerish weather. Which means our landlord instaled our window AC units this past weekend, and we Jolley girls pulled out our summer uniforms--dresses.

I wear this allllllll of the time. It is a sack with holes.

And we bought a sandbox, and Harris wants to live in it.

Do you see that amazing ladder (ahem . . pallet) leading up to the trampoline? Dan's idea. And it works. Harris loves it. It freaks me out. And yesterday, Harris fell off of it and cut his face. We are good parents.

And in conclusion, a spiritual thought.

I live in a lot of fear. I have tons of unwarranted anxiety. Some of it is warranted. But most of it isn't.

As I have mentioned 9238783 times on this blog, this pregnancy has kicked my bum. This pregnancy, I have had: morning sickness, restless legs, back pain, frequent urination, hemorrhoids (TMI?), the flu for three weeks, allergies, low iron, blah blah blahhhhhhhhhh. I know a lot of women have worse. This has been hard for me, though.

And I talk about it a lot. Too much. I need to listen to others more. One day, I was telling Dan, "I just need to talk about my sadness for a minute." With a kind twinkle, he joked, "Oh Heather, we always talk about your sadness." He is right. He has been extremely longsuffering.

This morning, as I again started feeling sorry for myself, I read in the scriptures:

It's quite ridiculous to compare the Savior's Atonement to my pregnancy. My pregnancy doesn't compare to that. It's not even the most minute fraction of what the Savior went through. But this verse did remind me--there are a lot of things I do every day, and a lot of them matter. But this pregnancy--this fourth baby--is one of the reasons I am here on this earth. It's one of my purposes. I was grateful for this reminder, though I'm still a complainer and I can't imagine myself acting like it's fun when it's not.

And thanks to you who read this blog. You all have also endured a lot of complaining posts and the like. Thanks for being my friends.

The End.