The Ten Percent Rule

"Good families- even great families- are off track 90 percent of the time!"
                                                                          - Stephen R. Covey

As I sat in between my two nine-year olds at church today, my good friend was giving a talk on family unity.  I was throwing elbows and dirty looks and shushing kids as fast as I could, but this quote got through the crazy and into my head.  What a feeling of relief!  It's okay if we are barely functional most of the time! 

I have worried a lot lately about my kids and our family life.  We are in a difficult stage right now:  we have a hormonal twelve- year old girl, two whiny, self-centered nine-year olds, one of them picks fights with anyone available just for the sake of arguing and the other makes noise constantly that is always one decibel above any talking or music or other noise in the room.  And our sweet six year old who has perfected the whiny tattle while secretly antagonizing the other kids.  When everyone is home it is a constant stream of contention, and a super grumpy mom!

I worry that all they will remember of their childhoods is me yelling and sending them to their rooms, or sitting in front of the television for hours on end because I got tired of yelling and wanted them to be content ( and away from me).  I worry that they won't build sibling relationships like I want for them, or that they won't associate our home as the place they would most like to be.  I worry and worry and worry and then worry that I am worrying too much!
I made a list.

Things that only happen ten percent (or less) of the time:
    Talking nice
     playing together
     enjoying family scripture study
     pleasant family home evenings
     limiting screen time
     teaching important life skills (dishes, laundry, cooking)
     patient and understanding mom who doesn't yell
     logical consequences

The list could be really, really long.  Embarrassingly long.  But, when I stop and focus on what happens in the good moments, the moments when we are on track and I feel the joy of motherhood, I can see the direction we are headed and I can see that we are making progress.  Slow, painful, dragging us by the teeth progress, but progress nonetheless. We have a goal to be a happy, loving family and to have a home environment that will make our kids want to be here and to bring their friends here and to return again and again no matter what.  We work towards that every day. We make progress, in varying degrees, everyday!

So, my new guide line is ten percent.  As long as I feel like the important things are happening ten percent of the time, I will be happy.  Less worrying, more loving and enjoying the stage we are in- there are so many good things about every stage.  We don't have to be perfect, we just have to keep getting back on track everyday and keep trying. 

Thunder

     I love thunder and lightning storms.  Something about them is magical to me- the flash of light and the echoing grumble, the louder the better!  Especially in the summer- the cool wind and the much needed rain with the added bonus of a light show and music in the heavens make for a great evening. One of my favorite childhood memories is of dancing in warm summer rain listening to the thunder.

     I also have a very vivid memory of being about twelve years old and visiting my Aunt at her ranch in Mcall, ID.  The thunder was bouncing around between those beautiful mountains and the lightning was incredible.  My aunt gathered me and my cousin in her bedroom and we sat on the bed, her arms around us, and waited out the storm.  She explained how these storms had always frightened her and how she hated thunder and lightning.  That is the first time I can remember associating fear with those storms I loved so much.

     Fast Forward.... Four and a half year old T-bug joins our family and we discover that she is full of fear for anything that is out of her control- the car going too fast or down a big hill, being bounced high on the trampoline, swinging high, and weather.  Thunder is her nemesis and lighting right behind.  She is terrified, and the smallest little rumble can wake her from a deep sleep.  As she has gotten older and learned about things like tornados, hurricanes, earthquakes, and floods, her fear deepens.

     Luckily, she is able to put this aside most of the time and it does not interfere with her daily life.  Unless she listens to the news or the weather, or practices an earthquake drill at school. Then for days she will worry, ask questions about what would happen if a natural disaster did occur at our home.  Her fear sits in the back of her mind and keeps her vigilant- no sleeping, no letting your guard down, the flood is coming.

     Last night as the thunder roared and the lightning flashed and I thought how nice it was to be in our warm kitchen with the kids doing various projects, T-bug paced from window to window with that look on her face- the panicked "we're all going to die" look.  Words don't comfort and nothing distracts, so I let her pace and answer her questions calmly.

"What would happen if the drains plugged and the water couldn't go down."

"Lightning likes metal, right?  Will it hit the car?"

"How is dad going to get home?"

"What would happen if the lightning hits our house?"

     I repeat over and over, "You are safe in our house,"  hoping that some day she will feel that way.  I can only imagine the things of her childhood that caused her fear of not being in control, and I am sad that she is missing out on the beauty of nature, the feeling of letting go and flying free, out of control and loving it.  It amazes me how a lack of nurturing at a very young age affects so many different aspects of development and understanding of life.  It saddens me that my little nine year old girl loses sleep over natural disasters that could occur someday.

     I realize that a fear of thunder and lightning is not uncommon, and that natural disasters are frightening and devastating.  I know that I cannot promise her that nothing like that will ever happen to our house or our neighborhood.  But I hope that someday she will be able to manage that fear and know that she is strong and the world is not against her and that there is beauty in things that are bigger than us - a symphony in the flashes of light and the answering thunder.

Moments

I am grateful for the moments of joy with my kids. Sometimes they are few and far between, but I have learned to cherish them when they come. I need them to balance out the rest of the time! A few recent moments:
Halloween night was warm and we walked about two miles trick or treating to all of our neighbors. The kids were having a great time, it was nice to be outside, and I loved watching them have so much fun.
We covered the kitchen table with paper and the kids painted. It was snowing outside and the kitchen was warm and the kids were enjoying each other and were so excited about what they were painting.
Superman bore his testimony in Sacrament meeing and said, "I know that my family loves me, and I love them." It was the same thing every other kid said, but I knew at that moment that he did know that, and that he does love us, and it made my heart ache with the joy and love I felt.
All of my kids were in the primary program this year, so I sat by myself for the first time ever. As they stood and sang, "families can be together forever," I cried and cried, so grateful that Heavenly Father has given me a family to be with, here on earth and in eternity.
I spent some time with Sunshine making her a CD of her favorite songs. She spent the next two days memorizing every one of them and singing everywhere she went. I smile everytime she sings!

Growing Up...Slowly

I thought growing up would be different. I thought that I would know stuff and be mature about things and know how to handle social situations that are tricky. I thought that I would have all the answers for my kids and that it would be easy to handle all the roles I would take on; mother, wife, friend, neighbor, homemaker....
I read blogs written by women who seem to have it all together. They blog about the revelations they recieve teaching them how to organize their cleaning schedule, the fun crafts they do with their kids in between meals and cleaning and running kids to and from different activities, the amazing gourmet meals and monthly menus that they consistently create, and of course the decorating and crafting that make their homes gorgeous and organized and, with the new cleaning schedule, clean.
I, on the other hand, have resolved to stop reading blogs. Except for the rants that I publish myself, I don't need that kind of encouragement!
Are these women for real, or do they just fake it online? Because I cannot figure out they grew up so well. How did they become such good adults? How did they figure life out and master it so completely, when I seem to flounder at every task?
So, I have decided to redefine adulthood. Adulthood is no longer the period of time in your life when you have mastered yourself and become who you always knew you would be. Instead, adulthood is the period of time when you learn how to improvise really well and continue your search for identity in a more hands on enviornment, all the while pretending to those around you that you know exactly who you are and what you are doing!
I have a feeling everyone else figured this out long before I did. And someone probably already blogged about it!

Brooding

We have a broody hen. Her desire to hatch eggs is stronger than her desire to do anything else. She goes out to eat and drink occasionally, but we have only seen her out twice in the past two weeks. She doesn't lay any eggs while she is brooding,so she is sitting on the other hens eggs, carefully tucking them underneath her and keeping them warm and safe. She gets extremely upset if we get too close to her. She is a very good little hen, diligently tending her little flock of eggs.

We do not have a rooster in the chicken coop, making her efforts fruitless. Apparently, chickens do not know the difference between fertilized eggs and those that will just rot underneath them in the summer heat. The instinct to be a mother is so strong that she will just sit for around three weeks, protecting the unfertilized eggs. Maybe she dreams of little yellow fuzz balls following her around the coop while the other hens look on jealously-- or maybe her hormones just make her want to sit and protect the eggs without really knowing the outcome. I'm sure somebody, somewhere is studying the chicken brain to understand more of how they think! But while they're trying to figure it out, my hen is sitting.

The research I have done on brooding hens-- since I don't really know anything about chickens, all my information comes from the internet!-- says that she will sit for about three weeks and then give up. But the other hens may see her sitting and decide that that's the cool thing to do and follow suit, which could cause egg production to drop significantly. Meanwhile, I will feed and water the hens that are sitting around doing nothing but being hormonal. But, the other option is to serve the hen for Sunday dinner. So, we are letting her sit.

Thinking about this hen, and worrying about rotting eggs and a coop full of sitting hens, has made me think about the instinct all species have to reproduce. Well, okay, I haven't been thinking about all species so much, mostly just my species! Human females get broody. The desire to find a reproductive partner and get busy is about the only thing that was discussed in my college apartments. And after the first one in a group of friends has a baby, eveyone else starts to want one. Just seeing a baby tends to make a girl broody!

I have sympathy for my hen, I think because I can compare myself to her. I have spent many years brooding- living with the desire to bring a new life into the world, and not being able to make it happen despite my best efforts. I understand her desire to try, to believe that a miracle could happen. I understand her hope, and her frustration when the eggs are stolen from her. Maybe I am attributing too much feeling and emotion to the hen-- okay, I know I am! But, sometimes its nice to know that someone understands.

Settling

We just celebrated the fourth anniversary of buying our house, and although this was not our first house, it is the longest that we have lived in one place our whole marriage, and the first house that we have loved and worked hard to make our own. I haven't felt connected to a place since we got married. My parents still live in the same house they lived in when I was born. Their community is small and close and it was a great place to grow up, but I always pictured myself leaving and never wanted to settle there with my family. I never pictured myself settling anywhere. The word 'settled' makes me uneasy, like I would have to grow up and act like an adult, which I have never pictured myself doing, either! But, as I realized this house anniversary had passed, I also realized that adulthood has snuck up on me and that I might have a few small roots growing into the soil of my little town.

Waffle-ing

When I was a kid, the only time I ever saw my dad in the kitchen doing anything other than eating was on Sunday morning. My parents are very traditional-- dad makes the money and does the "man" things, mom takes care of the house and kids and does the "woman" things. I actually really love both of them for raising us like that and think the world could use a little more traditional-- not too much, though. I really like it when Jared does dishes and helps out with the kids!

Anyway, Sunday mornings were the exception. Dad would whip up the most amazing homemade waffles. Not Bisquick, my friends. Waffles from scratch-- eggs and milk and flour, he even whipped the egg whites so they were fluffy before carefully folding them into the batter. Topped with scrambled eggs and homemade maple syrup, they were heaven! One of my favorite memories from childhood is walking up the stairs in the morning to the scent of waffles cooking. Of course, most of my childhood memories revolve around food, which may be why I have some food issues, wear size 12 jeans, associate brownies with love, crave carbs when I'm stressed,... well, that's a whole different post.

This is a tradition that I wanted to carry on in my family (not the food issues, the Sunday waffles!). When there were only three of us it was kind of anti-climatic because Jared doesn't really like waffles and Sunshine didn't really care. But two years ago we had three foster kids come to stay with us and they loved waffles, so I bribed them to be good in church with waffles! Everyone who was good got waffles when we got home. And since then I have continued on with waffle Sundays.

Two Sundays ago, after eating one waffle, Superman says to me, "I need something healthy to eat. Do we have any salad?"

I was stunned into silence! I'm sure my mouth was hanging open in disbelief. Sunshine follows him up with, "Ya, salad sounds good. We should eat salad instead of waffles. We could have Sunday salads."

I couldn't speak through the tears. Who are these kids? Sunshine is genetically mine, but obviously her father's genes are stronger. We used to bribe Superman to eat vegetables-- any vegetables-- with dessert. As in, "you can have a brownie for each bite you take"! That day he ate two bowls of salad and then asked for some carrots. T-bug and little Lou did their part, but I had a lot of leftover waffles.

Since then we have had salad on Sunday. It breaks my heart a little bit every week.