My Personal Item

I realized that when I said that I would be unpacking baggage, I only posted once and really, I've got so much more to unload.  I know - such whining and self pity!  But it's my blog and I'll whine if I want to.

Today was Mother's Day, a day filled with conflict for me.

I missed my mom.  That thought rung so strong and true this year as I have been living in turmoil and uncertainty and needing, so desperately, a mother's hug and to hear her tell me that it will all be okay.

I also felt disappointed by my husband and my ward.  Every Sunday I am the one who gets the family out the door looking half ready for church and get us settled in the pews.  I pack and lug the back with the children's notebooks, tissues and Friend magazine.  I remind everyone to go to the bathroom and get drinks, etc.  DH rolls out of bed 15 minutes before it's time to leave, throws on some clothes and away we roll.

Today, he didn't even do that much.

I think he joined us about half way through the meeting.  It was hard for me to let go of my resentment and anger.  Because if I was a fish, he would have been up at 4am.

Today, due to a series of unfortunate events, was fast Sunday.

The angel on my shoulder is telling me that this was a perfect day for a fast Sunday and that I could have used this opportunity to recognize the real strength in my mothering - God - and given up my pride and served Him whose day this truly it.

But I'm too much of a heathen.

I tried to be good.  I assured my children that since they couldn't make me breakfast in bed - which they actually really enjoy doing - they could fast for me instead.  Trust me - I could so, so use those blessings!  My 11 year old was the only one who managed to fast.  My 9 and 6 year old whined and whined about how hungry they were so I told them to just go eat.  I wasn't trying to be harsh but in my head all I could think about was that Eliza (6) had fasted for our neighbor when she was sick and that both of them had fasted when Q (9) requested that we have a family fast for people with breast cancer.  YET THEY COULDN'T FAST FOR THEIR OWN MOTHER!!!  ON MOTHER'S DAY!!!

Yeah, that didn't help my bitterness.

And then, because they are 11, 9 and 6, they started fighting over the whole matter and who loved me best and who had given me the best gift.

Please. stop. the. fighting!

Then there was the ward.  I was really frustrated with the whole idea of a fast on Mother's Day.

I hear time and time again from the prophets and apostles how important women are.  Mother's Day is, for me, when the church puts it's money where it's mouth is and spends a day actually showing us how important we are.  To give up this opportunity (and yes, I'm feeling like a swine as I type this) for a spiritual fast and actually focus solely on God, frustrated me.

There was no children's chorus about walking in meadows.

There were no primary cards with poems about the meaning of motherhood.

There were no talks on the sacredness of motherhood and how we are God's hands.

There were flowers - for which I was incredibly grateful as last year this ward didn't even do that.

But overall, I left feeling like it had been just another Sunday.

I know.

Get off my pity pot.

I know I'm wrong to feel so much resentment and anger over the progression of today but I'm unsure how to deal with it and let it go.

Do I just set down my bag and leave it unintended?

If I just stop talking about it, will it all go away?

How do I release anger without hurting others or myself?

How do I release resentment and not let it fester?

How do I feel cherished, important and love without the external trappings from other humans?  I know God should be enough but somehow He isn't.  Is it just that I'm not good enough yet?

I Dreamed A Dream

I find dreams to be very odd things.  I am genuinely impressed by people who get messages from God via dreams or those who are able to interpret their dreams for applicable life wisdom.

Myself - I think they're just odd.


Last night I dreamed that Robert and I were shopping in a store that I've never physically been in.  There were plates and other dishes at head level displayed like on a rack and then cups at arm level with nick-knacks and candles just below.  I wandered down the isles trying to find the perfect mug (the majority of the proffered mugs were my favorite shape, a rounded perfect hand fit, so the perfect mug was more a question of graphic design or color).


Some of the mugs were odd flower shaped things that didn't look like they would hold much at all.  There were plenty of floral and fairy nick-knacks.

And teapots.

Because I was thinking about getting a matching teapot and mug.  However, I didn't want to buy just any old mug, I wanted the perfect set with the end result being that I didn't buy anything because I couldn't find it.  Although I was still looking when the dream ended.

That's it.

Not the oddest dream I've had.  (I think that one was the dream where a bad guy was trying to kill me with a knife and that my mom and Aunt - after rescuing me - were driving me back into his clutches once they understood what I was running from.)

But still I wonder what is the point of dreams?  Episodes like this make me wonder what the heck is going on in my head.

Tulips. Finally.

It's true.

Daffodils.  Tulips.  Flowers.  Leaves.  Spring is finally, FINALLY here.

This makes me very happy.

Insecurities

I have a hard time making friends.

Don't get me wrong; I gather acquaintances quite rapidly.  But friends, true deep, can completely be myself and never worry about what they think of me?  Those are hard to find.  I often feel as though I'm the kind of person that everyone befriends only on a surface level, a "Hi.  How ya doin?" at church kind of level but then studiously avoids any deeper relationship because I'm just too high maintenance.

I also often wonder how much of that problem is my own perception of myself.

I've filled out those silly little questionnaire memes that ask you all your favorites.  One of the questions, "Would you be friends with yourself?" always stops me cold.  I. don't. know.  I'm dramatic and overly emotional and I cry so often even I get annoyed.  It's hard, on some days, to find anything redeeming in myself.

I also struggle more than I should with what others think of me.  I started taking "happy pills" over two years ago.  There were so helpful and gave me the boost I needed to deal with my mother's death and move along in the grieving process.  I weaned myself off (yes, under my physicians supervision) only to have the two most important people in my life suggest that perhaps I should go back on.  I found their statements devastating as I felt like the two people I entrusted myself with didn't like me the way I am; they like me better a bit more stable and medicated.

There are days when I ask God why He created me as He did and what the value is to be found in all these emotions and idiosyncrasies of mine.  Most days I can't find an answer.

John recently wrote a beautiful post wherein he stated the following:

It was a very clear revelation. The Spirit simply said: "Do not pass through those doors if there is any doubt in your mind that you are equal to every single other person who walks through those doors. You are not inferior in any way. You are as deserving and worthy of every blessing your Heavenly Father desires pour out on every single one of his children. Do not enter without knowing that."

 I know that his struggle is different from mine, but I have often felt the same way.  I see women and men all around me who seem so much more together than me.  It certainly doesn't help that after almost 20 years of work, a college education and lots of wishing and dreaming that I find myself basically back where I was at the age of 16.  I feel like I'm stuck in mud and spinning my wheels unable, perhaps unwilling, to actually go anywhere.  I self-sabotage.  I start healthy habits and follow them religiously only to abandon them completely after just a few days.

I wish I had a point or some conclusion.  I find that frequently with blogging there is no nice little bow to tie at the end of these posts.  I would like to say that by reading John's post I've been inspired that I am enough and that I can accept myself, warts and all, as a beloved daughter of God but while I believe all that to be true, I just don't BELIEVE all that to be true.

And so I struggle.

And cry.

And eat some chocolate.

*sigh*

Unpacking

The question on everyone's mind: Why the move Miss Mouse?

Well....it was a hard decision to make and I still wonder if I'm being overly dramatic.  This blog began in an effort to keep my dear friend in Colorado informed about my life.  Since then it has evolved to being my shoulder to cry on, my soapbox and my megaphone for bragging about my children.  Sometimes, it's even my therapist.  All of that was threatened awhile ago when my friends (real, live people with whom I physically interact on a regular basis) discovered that I have a blog.  I took their discovery as an opportunity to be more authentic and to merge all these many facets of myself into one whole. 

Everything went really well and I was happy feeling as though I was being honest with the world.

However, such honesty opens oneself up and when one is open, the reality is that pain often follows.

A family member, whom I used to count as a dear friend, knew of my blog and was probably one of my most faithful followers.  Since moving to Alaska, though, and spending a great deal of time with her, I am reevaluating our relationship.  The truth is that while this woman is genuinely a kind soul without a malicious bone in her body, her perspectives, humor and way of dealing with life often conflict with my own.  Looking back on moments of pain between her and I, I truly believe that she never meant to hurt me but hurt is what I felt.  And, like the child who touches a hot stove only to be burned, I am reluctant to make myself that open and vulnerable to her again.  I have to continue the relationship: our children adore each other; we are family living less than a mile away from each other; we attend the same ward; we carpool. . . .it goes on and on. 

And since I have to continue the relationship, I have decided to set a few boundaries.  I don't call very often and I limit how often I hang out with her.  And, I have moved my blog.  A bit cowardly, I know.  I should have had a conversation with her, but I'm afraid of hurting her or causing more drama.  So, I'm working on getting my family blog active (you know, the one with my real name and actual pictures of my real children) and inviting her to that.  And I moved my personal blog, changed the name and am now unpacking all of my baggage.

It's good to feel comfortable and truly have this be a nest where my hair can hang down but I'm a bit disappointed that I failed in my efforts to be authentic and true and the same person to all people. 

I guess I'm just not quite ready.

But Wait . . . That's Not All . . .

Ever have a day where the good stuff just keeps coming?  Where you're NOT looking forward to bedtime because the day will be over and who knows what tomorrow will bring?

That's my day today.

It started with a quiet breakfast, all by myself, basking in the warm sunshine coming in the window.  I walked to the St. James Cathedral for mass and then walked back to the hotel WITHOUT A COAT!  (I KNOW!!  IT'S ACTUALLY SPRING HERE IN WASHINGTON!!  AND YES, I REALLY AM THIS EXCITED! I mean exclamation marks, caps AND underlining!  Whew.)

Back at the hotel, I worked in quiet (DH was still sleeping) and solved some puzzles (without cheating.  Be impressed!  Be amazed!) and then, when DH woke, we got on a Washington State Ferry to Bainbridge Island.

It was fun.  It was a glorious day.  Mt. Rainier was visible the whole day.  (Shocking!)  And . . .

I now know why dogs stick their heads out the window when riding in a moving car; the wind your face is just hella fabulous!

We walked around the Island and dined al fresco at the local harbor: crab cakes, AMAZING Ahi Tuna Tacos (seriously - fried wantons for the shells, raw tuna, sweet pickled ginger, cabbage and this spicy aioli. . . mmmMMMmmm . . .  mouth. so. happy.), fried oysters and a Greek antipasto plate.  All the dogs that walked by were jealous.  J. E. A. L. O. U. S. (To say nothing of their owners. . . .)

We wandered a bit more and then rode the ferry back to Seattle.  I counted 13 seagulls flying above the observation deck, gliding in the updraft from the boat.

Now we're in the hotel and I get to lounge about in my underwear and eat dark chocolate covered almonds and blog.  Sublime.

It was an amazing day.  I wish I had brought a camera but perhaps mental pictures are the best kind.  (Because in those, on the ferry, I have a waist and my hair was flying oh so delicately about in a very alluring way.  And at the hotel, I look simply stunning in my uberly expensive lingerie.)

Today was a God blessing day in the biggest way.

The Third Sunday of Easter

Robert and I have been visiting Seattle since Thursday, a little getaway with just the two of us.  It has been lovely to spend so much time without any real cares or responsibilities beyond what time we want to get up and where are we going to eat.

As today is Sunday, I wanted to go to church.  I looked and couldn't find an LDS meetinghouse anywhere close (we've been walking every where).  So, since I had fallen in love with the building anyway, I attended mass at the St. James Cathedral.

It was an awesome, awesome service.

The liturgy had two main parts: one from the book of Acts regarding the disciples speaking with the risen Jesus when he told them to cast in their nets and the nets were filled with so many fish that they could not lift them onto the boat and another from the Gospel of John when Jesus asks Peter if Peter loves him.

Before the liturgy, a woman spoke (I love the number of women that are involved in the service) about listening to the scriptures and placing ourselves in the story and the importance of remembering that the scriptures are alive.  It struck my heart that I can't truly remember the last time I thanked God for the Bible and the Book of Mormon.  How often I take sacred texts for granted!  These scriptures are literally God's word to me.  What a wonderful gift!

As I looked around, listening to the liturgy and the homily, singing the songs and answering the priests, I was touched by the devotion of those in attendance.  One woman in particular had swollen eyes and a tear stained face.

So much is said on the differences of religion, on my God versus your god.  Even within Christianity, we are often more divided than unified and often stress harsh judgments due to differing beliefs even going so far as to prevent others from heaven or to cast them to hell.  In this moment at mass, I was struck with the truth that we are all God's children and insomuch as we have faith and love for Him in our hearts and seek to serve Him, how could He ever cast those offerings away?  Such condemnation seems out of place for the God I know and serve.

I am grateful that I was able to attend mass this morning.  Grateful that as I reveled in the sunshine and the beauty of spring, that I arrived at the Cathedral to hear that we were celebrating the Third Sunday of Easter and to smell all those beautiful lilies.

Such a gift.

Praise be to God.