favorite books

I think there are certain books every family should have on their book shelves.

Books open up to magic worlds where so much can be learned and delighted in. And I love when books leave you with some great material for deep discussions with kids.

Grace and I just finished this one...I had forgotten how much I LOVED it. It makes me cry and has so many good messages.I think Gloria Dump, with her tree full of bottles and wise words, came out on top as my favorite character this time around.

And then, of course, there's this one:Oh my word it's a good one....so much symbolism.

I've mentioned Ida B. a few times too. It is packed with things that are so real...and so great to talk through.

And let's go ahead and add The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe to this list, because, hey, it is the classic of classics.
There are other books that I adore not for any deep messages, but just because they are just so darn creative. I love these Keven Henkes ones:
And these two:
And let's not forget Hazel's Amazing Mother...
But this is my all-time favorite picture book.
Nothing can compare to the messages in this one.

I'd love more book recommendations. There are SO many great ones out there.
Love, Shawni

p.s. I made bread yesterday and didn't even take ONE picture. I even almost didn't blog about it. Now that's progress. I served it with this soup for dinner. Mmmmm.

bitter-sweet

It is interesting that your heart can simultaneously be elated and uplifted at the same time as it is being ripped out of your chest.

That’s how my heart felt on Saturday.

Time Out for Women was amazing. I feel incredibly rejuvenated and spiritually “fed” from all that was said from the other presenters who I promptly fell in love with upon meeting. And I must admit it gave me a little bit of a natural high to be up there in front of that sea of beautiful women…all in their own unique struggles and joys. It felt good to get to talk about something I feel so passionate about: “Motherhood,” with my own amazing mother at my side. (Yes, she made it, and man oh man was I ever glad.) There was no fainting or hyperventilating involved…in fact, I really don’t think I got one splotch. I learned so much from the whole experience and for that I am so grateful.

I have much more to relate on the subject as soon as I get a minute.

But right now I want to concentrate on the fact that Saturday was a sacred day of sorts in another regard…without relation to all those lovely women in that conference center.

You see, Saturday, February 6^th, marks the anniversary of the day we got the dreaded phone call:

The one from the geneticist informing us on no uncertain terms that Lucy did, indeed, have a problem. February 6^th was the day she was diagnosed with Bardet-Biedl.

Even though in our hearts we knew full-well it was coming (we had done enough research to know this syndrome fit…like a glove), in the back of our minds I think we dearly hoped that maybe, just maybe, it would all turn out to be a bad dream. And we’d wake up and our life would go on as planned.

But it wasn’t a dream. It was real.

And in many regards it slapped us in the face. Hard.

It is interesting to think about what has happened in a year. Our little family has learned and grown in ways we never thought possible. We have fallen more deeply in love with each other, we have cried together, laughed until we cried again, and worried. Countless doctors have been visited (and small pieces of my mind have been handed out liberally as needed). We have gone from worrying endlessly about blindness to obesity to heart problems to kidney issues and back again…around and around in one big circle.

A friend commented to me the other day how interesting it seemed to her that much of the sadness and mourning we had in the beginning with this diagnosis has evaporated.

And in many ways she was right.

You see, in the type of journey we are on you meet many people along the way who make you thank your lucky stars that what you are dealing with isn’t worse. I’ve seen and heard things that others are faced with that I know would leave me curled up rocking in the corner. And it makes you feel almost silly to be so sad. Almost ungrateful to mourn over something so “small” and insignificant compared to all that is out there.

But this week, thinking about this anniversary of our “news” and fighting back the tears that I thought had dried up long ago, I have realized that it’s ok to feel the sadness. Because what I am dealing with is real. And in a sense, the overwhelming sadness is a step in the process of coping.

The things we deal with may not feel real to those around us…especially those dealing with much more grim outlooks in sight. But it is real to us. Others don’t see the devastated look on Dave’s face when he comes to terms, again and again, with how far Lucy has to go to “catch up” and the fact that even after all he can do, some things aren’t “fixable.” I feel the “real-ness” with the constant guilt inside that keeps telling me we must do more…we have to push harder…if we only try just a little harder we can find better doctors, we can change our family’s diet, we can raise enough money to cure future blindness … more that can be done to help is constantly staring me in the face, even when I’m so tired, and I have four other children and a dear husband who need me to spread myself between.

I bring all this up not to feel sorry for myself or to proclaim “whoa is me,” but to acknowledge that life is REAL. And we need to come to grips with the realness of it all to help us grow and become who Heavenly Father wants us to be. It’s through our struggles that we can grow the most. As evidenced by so many other mothers up in Utah this weekend, we all have our struggles. Some seem small in the whole scope of things…we get a bad haircut or we can’t make a decision on which school will be best for our children. And some are huge, and loom darkly in front of us. Some are chemically depressed. Some husbands are unfaithful. Some children deal with chemical dependency. Some of our loved ones may have been sexually molested. Some have been through the most horrible ordeals we can possibly imagine.

But amidst that sea of good women on Saturday I realized once again that Heavenly Father is aware of us, individually. He wants to share our burdens. He’ll carry us through the toughest times if we’ll only let him.

Although I do believe with all my heart that this ordeal with Lucy has made our family stronger, and although I thank my Heavenly Father continually for sending Lucy to our family with all her strings attached, sometimes it’s still sad. Heartbreakingly sad. And sometimes nothing feels better than to just bawl for a little while to get it all out. And that’s ok. It’s when we are enveloped in our sadness and sorrows that we tend to feel the hand of the Lord the most in our lives. Because although our problems and struggles may seem small compared to the things that others face, He knows they are real to us. And He understands, and carries us through...if we let Him.

And for that I am forever grateful.

wait...

..didn't February barely begin???

nervous

My bags are packed and I'm ready to go.

The house is clean, loads and loads and loads of laundry are washed, folded, put away. Meals are sort of planned out. All the places the kids need to get to and from while I'm gone are listed out for Dave. Love notes sit waiting for my kids and husband to find them when they're ready for bed tonight (you'd think I was leaving for a year rather than for one single day). I have an outfit packed that will most probably hide my splotchy nervous neck when I get up to talk in front of 1,700 people in the morning with my Mom.

I'd be fine, sitting here sipping on some lemonade (my Mom is an excellent public speaker and she can nudge me if I get shell-shocked or revive me on the stage if I faint) except for one problem:

My Mother is missing.

I'm sure she'll turn up, but it's making me a little nervous that I haven't heard from her yet.

You see, she and my Dad have been gone for a month on a speaking tour all over places like Kuwait, Beirut and Saudi Arabia, and she's supposed to be arriving in Utah within minutes after my flight lands there tonight.

I was all hunky dory with that until Dave had the audacity to ask me on our date the other night what I would do if she didn't make it back in time. He reminded me she's coming in directly from India. Then he kindly reassured me that I'd do just fine without her.

But a sick feeling started building up in my stomach. Although India is among my top two places I'd love to travel, from what I gather the flights may not be exactly running like clockwork.

So let's all cross our fingers and say a little prayer that she'll arrive safe and sound tonight so that I won't be standing there like a deer in the headlights in the morning!

I really am excited.

b-ball

Max is thick into his basketball season.

He LOVES it.

Excuse the blurriness of these pictures, but seriously, I LOVE his expressions that exemplify his determination this year.

I like the tongue-hanging-out one:
Love the gaping open-mouth one:

And I love that my relatively shy boy is getting in there and pushing some kids around.
His team is totally undefeated which makes it extra fun to watch. Can you tell how excited the cheering section was?

Wow, maybe we could pep them up a little more this week...

Way to go, Max!!

day-to-day mothering

I have the worst memory known to man, which sometimes leads me to wish I had more pictures with my Mother growing up (this really is my last tangent on Motherhood pictures). She is one of my greatest heroes and I know her only as a teenage-to-present mother since I can't remember the rest (the part I remember is pretty darn good though).

And so, you can imagine how excited I was when I received a prize Christmas gift this year: all our growing-up family slides made digital and put on a CD. Boy oh boy was I excited.

Within that treasure trove of pictures there are some that tell the story of my Mother when we were all young. And I am drawn to them.

But instead of leaving me satisfied, these pictures leave me wanting more. I want to know what my Mom was thinking in these pictures. I want more details of what she was like as a young mother. Sure, she wrote things about ME in a special book she gave me when I got married. She wrote books about Mothering filled with thoughts and ideas she had. But I don't know what she liked, or what she worried about, or how she felt inside, and I wish I did. I am left to wonder how she mothered us day-to-day...the funny things she did, how she talked to us, the stories she told, etc.

Was she kind of quiet and reserved as she seems in these pictures, or was she a spitfire?(In the above picture I personally think she was thinking: "wow, that Shawni could sure use a hair-wash...")


Had she dreamed of going to Egypt all her life before this next picture (pregnant with her seventh(??) child)? Did she crave traveling the world like I do?

How did it feel to be a Mother of such young children and to be a mission president's wife at such a young age (29). What did she do to mother us day-to-day when she was encumbered with 200 young missionaries as well as a young family?

How did she like traipsing around the world with seven (or more) kids in tow? Did she get frustrated? Did she just roll with the punches and enjoy the ride? Did it give her a rush like I know it would for me?
Did my little brother Noah like wearing that small red velour sailor suit??

How did she feel inside when she had her ninth baby? Did she put us all to work helping out or did she have a tough time prying that baby away from all of her adoring siblings? How did she wait up late at nights waiting for us teenagers to come home and then wake up with a newborn multiple times in the night?

Did she look forward to having babies as much as I did (it looks like she sure as heck did if she was adamant enough to pose for a picture with a fake doll as a baby...and get my Dad to pose with her).

Did she love her fake hairpiece as much as I do?

Sure, I could ask her all these questions and more, but chances are most of the details have faded into the outskirts of her memory by now.

So for my future kids I thought I would steal a great idea from my cyber-friend Julie (who is an amazing writer by the way, and who I think stole this idea from another cyber-friend), and write about things I do as mother, right now.

So, here you go, future versions of my children, in case you ever wonder:

I have taught you how to make cookies to a "t"...and you are all becoming quite good little bakers. I secretly hope you will make cookies and surprise me when I'm gone because I love them so much. (And often you do.)

I have a handful of "hiding places" where I keep a few cookies after we've made a batch so I can have some the next day. You have deftly found all my hiding places.

I'm trying to be better at teaching you to cook real food. Sometimes we make it into a game where we are the chefs on a cooking show and we are showing the audience how to chop vegetables and bring sauces to a boil just so. We make up our imaginary characters and tell about our imaginary families as we cook.

I check on you slumbering sweetly in your beds every single night before I go to bed. I can't resist having a look at your slumbering beauty and making sure you are breathing steadily before I can sleep.

I tell you how much I love your Dad to the point you get annoyed. But it's true. As much as I adore you guys, I try to always put your Dad first, and I think you like seeing that.

I love to read with you at night. It gets tougher and tougher each year because everyone is on such different levels, but I love it as much as you do...and you've realized that I'll read for longer if you play with my hair as we read.

I have a goal to play hymns on the piano each night after we tuck you in bed. Sometimes I'm good at it and sometimes I'm not but I loved it when my Mom did that when I was growing up. From your frequent requests I know you do too.

I hang maps all over the place in hopes that you will please love traveling and adventure as much as I do. I want us to travel the world together. (To understand why in the world I'm so adamant about this click here. I came from the blood of these two travel-aholics for crying out loud.)

I keep trying to get you to love Thai food as much as I do so I make it often. Even though you still turn your noses up at it I'm convinced that if I keep trying some day you'll fall in love.

Not much makes me happier than walking into your room and finding you kneeling in prayer or reading your scriptures...unasked.

I try to somehow weave my testimony into all that I tell you. I want you to know, more than anything else, that I love my Savior and that I'm trying to be like Him.

You never tire of begging for a dog, and I secretly wish we had one too. I'm just too tired to talk your Dad into it...yet.

I get very huffy when I'm mad. And I slam doors.

I always tell you I'm sorry when I cool down after getting mad. And I really am.

I cut our family's hair...sometimes for better...sometimes for worse. I even cut my own hair when I get sick enough of it.

I love beauty. I point it out every chance I get. I hope some day you will love it as much as I do.

Sometimes I'll dance to music with you (especially when we're trying to clean up dinner or do jobs on Saturdays) and you love it. I would never dance in front of anyone else but you...I'm a horrible dancer, and even if you have figured that out by now, you don't tell me so. (Thank you.)

I steal you away from school whenever I can and take you, individually, to lunch.

I have no problem pulling you out of school for a trip, or lunch, or family stuff...I love the motto my parents came up with when we traveled a bunch growing up: "Don't ever let schooling interfere with your education."

Having said that, your Dad and I totally stress doing your very best at school. I always talk to you about "Some day when you're at Wellesley College" (or Columbia or Stanford) and I have hung a Harvard flag prominently in your bedroom, Max. So far the brainwashing isn't seeping in and you're all claiming you'll go to BYU, which I certainly can't complain about. I love BYU. I just want you to know there are other options too.

I have "Fasting Club" with you on Fast Sundays before dinner to try to get you more excited about Fast Sunday and I love to hear what spiritual things you've learned or noticed in the last month.

I come to each of your classes and teach art masterpiece every month. I love art...and I love to be in your classrooms with you.

I used to have a goal to always come in and say prayers with each of you every single night. And I was good at it. But lately I've pulled back a little bit (at least on you older kids) because I want you to make it a habit on your own. It's sad for me but I know it's good for you. When we do say prayers together, though, we always link our arms together. I love hearing your prayers.

I don't get enough sleep. And sometimes you suffer because of it when it makes me grumpy. I'm sorry.

I wish you didn't have to go to school and that we could just hang out all day. Just me and you and Dad. Really. But I'm sure you wouldn't love it since when we ever have a day like that I make you clean out a cabinet or closet or two.

But, most importantly, I love you so much that sometimes my heart feels like it just may burst outside of me when I look at you....even when you have messy faces and sassy attitudes. (Although the attitude thing and things like dumping sand out of your shoes on the freshly mopped kitchen floor sure throw me for a loop ... but I always forgive you.)

Love, Mom

making a house a home

And as long as I'm linking things from sisters, I've been wanting to post this link for a while. It's something my THIRD amazing sister wrote about the house we grew up in.

Reading this post makes me so incredibly grateful for what my parents did to make that house a home. It was not a fancy home by any means, but it was a home that we all felt secure in. A home that meant a lot to each of us.

That's what I've been trying to do around here...make our house a HOME. Something that is sacred for our little family. Some day this month the finishing touches will be done on our "sprucing up" project and I'll post the before and after pictures. We haven't really done that much, just put a lot of agonizing thought into it. (I say "we" liberally...Dave hasn't agonized much about the decisions, just about the speed of my decision-making...which is somewhere on the spectrum between molasses and full-stop.)

Anyway, what is it that makes a house a home? I'm just thankful my parents figured it out as evidenced in this post. And I ask myself, am I doing what I can to make my future children feel as attached and in love with their home as my sister does?