Messy Diapers

Dear Readers,
I'm revising some old posts to correct just some of the many errors and typos. This is one of them.




Our oldest daughter lived for a time in the Pacific Northwest, far from her family in the desert.
She had graduated from college and was starting to build a career with a large company near Seattle.

Then she met her eternal companion at a singles ward volleyball game and they married, somewhat late in life by Mormon standards. Both were anxious to have children and build a home for them that would last forever.
Our family was especially grateful when they found each other. We hoped it would stop the nightly phone calls.
You see, before they met, Larry and I vividly remember frequent long distance wailings from this daughter about ticking biological clocks and how age 29 was the end of all possibility for marriage and a posterity. Whenever the phone rang at our house in the evening Larry would say “Is it whining in Seattle?”

Well, our child got her heart’s desire, and then some, concerning that marriage and posterity thing.
Twins came close on the heels of a son and a daughter.

She then assumed that all her troubles were over now that she'd been blessed with what she'd wanted for such a long time.
But it turned out that life was still quite a challenge in those early days of motherhood.
To say the least.

It seems that being pregnant with twins while caring for a husband and two young children is hard. Who knew?
While she was carrying the twins we did what we could to help at truly desperate times. We were 1,800 miles away, after all, but we flew in an eighteen year old sister for a few weeks in the summer, for example, when "Whining" was too baby-big even to bend over to clean the bathtub.
According to this visiting sibling, people actually pointed and stared at pregnant sister when she went out in public.
“Look at that lady’s stomach!” someone once cried out before they could remember their manners.
One day, a kind woman came up to say knowingly, “Twins, Dear? Hang in there.”

Well, they were blessed with healthy girls.
We all went to give aid and comfort right after the twins were born, but soon had to leave them on their own to care for themselves and four children under the age of five.

Yes, heartfelt prayers had been answered, and the dream came true. But life still turned out to be a challenge.
Isn't that always just the way?

One day our daughter was feeling particularly overwhelmed.
Her existence seemed to be an endless round of dirty diapers and preschooler tantrums.
She began to question the choices she’d made.
Whatever happened to the career she had been educated for?
What happened to her body in such a short time?
What about her hair? Why did it look like this?
Where were her real clothes like high heels and designer suits?
Who were all these little people and why didn’t they speak English?
You get the picture.

It so happened that right in the midst of all this angst she began to think of the Relief Society lesson she had heard on the previous Sunday. At least what she could remember hearing of it while juggling babies on both knees.
The lesson was about the second coming of Christ.
The questions asked were about personal readiness for that great future event.
The teacher wanted the sisters to think about their lives and how they spent their time. “If the Savior came back today, what would He find you doing?” she asked. “If He walked in on you today, unannounced, would you be okay with that?”

As she was thinking about this she gazed around her messy house.
There were kids’ toys everywhere, graham cracker crumbs scattered from the front door to the back, and two babies sitting in their rockers suddenly beginning to smell suspicious.
She went to them to check the situation and found that both had apparently had too much apple juice, resulting in a diaper mess of such gigantic proportions that it spilled out onto the rockers, up their backs and into their hair!
She decided to think later.

These babies needed an entire bath right now, even though she’d just bathed them that morning. Diaper wipes would not be anywhere near adequate for this situation.
So she carted the rockers into the bathroom, knelt down by the tub and began to bathe the babies. Her three year old followed hot on her heels to watch the show.

Tears of frustration began to well up in her eyes as she knelt there.
The three year old began hopping back and forth over her legs while singing.
She began thinking again……“My house is a mess! My kids are a mess! I’m a mess!
I was supposed to be doing great things with my life by now! If the Savior came back today He’d find me and my college degree in a messy house on my knees next to a bathtub washing two poopy babies with a three year old hopping back and forth over my legs singing “Mommy’s gross…Mommy’s gross!”

As she soaped the squirming twins the truth came to her, of course, and she began to cry in earnest.
(I didn’t raise stupid kids you know.)

She realized that what she was doing with her life at that exact moment would be acceptable to the Savior.

She was trying to build an eternal home and family.

She decided that the Son of God might even possibly say something to her that was distinctly positive….like… “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.”
Feeling much better about many things she said a silent thank you prayer for the Relief Society lesson.

As she finished with the last baby she turned her attention to her three year old son. “Honey, why are you singing Mommy’s gross? That’s not very nice.”
“Because you are gross, Mommy, he replied. “Look at your feet!”
She looked.
Both feet, clad in white tennis shoes were resting right in the middle of a dirty diaper.

Now she needed a bath.

"Goodly Parents"

   

     "Having been born of goodly parents." That's what Nephi says in the scriptures. Boy, that's a phrase loaded with meaning, isn't it? Or maybe guilt if you happen to be a parent and are worried that you might not have been as "goodly" as you should have been at times. This crossed my mind over the holidays when I had a chance to spend time with all my grown children and grandchildren in the same place several times. As I surveyed the chaos of offspring milling around me I worried about the times when I could have been a better mother. Indeed, my grown children now and again play a game called "Remember when Mom ruined your life?" They take turns telling stories of when I did some horrible thing that embarrassed and scarred them forever and then they all laugh like loons. It's tons of fun for all. I learned that one of the terrible things I did to our son was to make him wear a new pair of jeans to school before they were washed. I'll admit that back in the day new Levis were stiff as a board, but I hadn't had time to do the laundry and those were the only clean pair of pants in the house. Apparently he was ridiculed cruelly by the entire school and sustained severe chafing to boot. I'd managed to injure his psyche and his butt at the same time. How come they never play, "Remember when Dad ruined your life?" It's always the mom, isn't it?
         In my defense, I do recall once when I really made an effort to be a "goodly" mother. Our two oldest were in their late teens. You must remember that Larry and I were raggedy old converts without a clue as to how to raise LDS kids, especially teenagers. Heck, we had no idea how to Be LDS teenagers! Most of the stuff we did as kids was wrong! (Especially the stuff Larry did. Plus he talked me into some things against my will.) Anyway our current parent plan was to hold a hard line on the big stuff, (drinking, smoking, fooling around) and ease up on lesser issues like curfew and such. Our house rule was "We want to know where you're going and when you'll be back." (This horrified many of our church friends, by the way.)  If it's the basketball game and pizza then you say you'll be home by 11:00. If it's burgers and a movie then 12:30. Right? If they weren't home when they said they'd be their dad would be out looking for them for sure. This was working for us pretty well. We had a lot of quasi-rules like that, as I recall.
        In addition I would sometimes try hard to hold family home evenings because that's what the Prophet said to do. This was always under extreme protest from the teenagers who made the whole experience as excruciating as possible. But every now and then it worked. One day I was rewarded for my efforts and I gave an inspiring lesson on the importance of honoring your parents, which was sorely needed in our house at the time.
       Around this time something happened that gave me a lot to think about. Son Dane was then 17 or 18. He was 6 foot 3 or more, weighed at least 275 and resembled a small mountain. He was a tackle on the varsity football team in a big city school and was kind of a big deal because of it. (Newspaper articles, billboards and the like.) Most of his friends were football players too, many of them linemen like himself, although he did have one friend who came around a lot who was a regular sized guy, a quarterback. Once, I remember this kid coming off the field during a big game, marching straight over to Dane and punching him in the face. I heard him yell, "Why'd you let that guy get through! He just about killed me! Can't you think under pressure?!" Dane looked at him, shrugged his shoulders apologetically, and said "Sorry, I didn't see him. I was looking at a cheerleader."
      Whenever the guys came into the house, which was often, you looked up at them and thought, "These kids potentially have great careers as pro wrestlers or bouncers." In addition I always thought, "Gee, I hope they're not here for dinner again." Anyway, as I was saying, it was a Saturday morning. Dane was still sleeping when he was supposed to be cleaning his room. His room had become so awful that I lived in terror that some visitor would ask for the bathroom and mistakenly open his door, which I kept shut for fear that something might crawl out. I had gone in there the day before and in the midst of the rubble found a Book of Mormon on his nightstand with a peanut butter sandwich being used to hold his place! I didn't know whether to be glad that he was reading the scriptures or mad about his bookmark.
      Anyway the doorbell rang and I opened it to let in two huge linemen and the quarterback who said they were there to pick up Dane to go somewhere with them. I explained that he couldn't go until he cleaned his room first. They looked at me with worry and one politely said that they were late already. About this time Dane emerged from the disaster area pulling on his letterman's jacket and zipping his pants. I said, "Son, remember, you have to clean your room before you go anywhere today."
 Worried looks all around.
"Mom, I'll do it when I get back. I promise."
With steely resolve I said, "No. You always say that. You're grounded until your room is clean! Do it now!"
"Ma, he said, "Be reasonable. We're late already."
       (Here's where the "goodly" parenting comes in.)  I said, "Son, remember that Family Home Evening lesson we just had about honoring your mother and father? Remember what we learned? Bad things can happen to people who don't honor their parents. It turns out they sometimes die young. Now I'm  your mother and I'm telling you that you're grounded until you clean your room!"
       Then I saw my only son gaze off across the living room, obviously thinking hard. I could see he was remembering that beautiful lesson about obeying parents.
       He finished thinking. Suddenly he grabbed me by the neck and began to twist. "Mom, tell me I'm not grounded! Say it! Say it!" As I twisted to the floor writhing in pain I saw the astonished, wide eyed faces of his huge friends.
   "Say it, Mom! Say I'm not grounded!"
   As I began to suffocate I managed a quick, "Okay, Okay! You're not grounded."
     He let me go, helped me up and planted a big kiss right in the middle of my forehead. "Love you, Mom. I'll be home by 10."
     As they all walked out the door I saw the linemen slowly shaking their heads in disbelief. The quarterback turned to my son and said with shock in his voice, "Dane, you actually put your own mother in a headlock."
     He replied with a huge grin, "Yea, I know. And you said I couldn't think under pressure."
      Now I realize that some of you may disapprove. At first I felt bad about the situation myself. But I swiftly realized that I could think about it in two ways. On the one hand, I had actually raised a son who would put his own mother in a headlock. On the other I'd raised a kid who wouldn't disobey his parent and go out if she said he was grounded. I decided to go with the latter and said to myself, "That boy has an awesome mother!"                      
        Much time has passed since that day. I now have more fond
 parenting memories. One special one is of that same son, now the father of several teenagers, standing in a doorway, exasperation on his face, frustration in his voice, bellowing over the din of a family gathering to his dear wife. "Lisa! Tell me! Why do we have children!" He meant it, there was some history in his tone. And just the other night his older sister mistakenly dialed her father at midnight waking us both. She was looking for one of her teenagers who was late coming home. We didn't have him. Ahhh. We just smiled a long time at each other.  I asked Larry if we should worry. He said "No, that's her job," and we went back to sleep. I only fretted for a minute before dozing off.
      So it's true what they say. Being a parent is like a lot of other things in life. What goes around comes around. That karma thing and casting bread on the waters really happens. Parents eventually do reap satisfaction. They just have to wait until their kids try to be "goodly parents" themselves.
    In case you're worried about how our son eventually turned out, I'll tell you truthfully that he still needs a lot of work. There have been hopeful signs though. He did serve in his bishopric and stake high council. His oldest daughter will graduate from nursing school next month. She waited for her high school sweetheart to return from his mission. They were just married in the Mesa temple a few months ago. His second oldest daughter will be 19 this summer. She's turned in her mission papers and is waiting to see where she's called. She'll be our first missionary grandchild. The younger kids look very promising too.
     How'd that happen? Well, I know that Heavenly Father blessed Dane the day he met Lisa, and I must say that our son showed good judgement when he fell in love with her. His children ended up with a "goodly mother." May he himself continue to be blessed in his own efforts as well. Actually it turns out that the boy's made us very proud in so many ways. Who knew?
        I pray that Heavenly Father will also bless all of you out there who are trying to be "goodly" too. It's one of the most important and challenging callings you'll ever have. Don't give up. Take heart.  I know firsthand that you can make mistakes. Father's got your back. He sure had mine. After all they're His children too. And remember, one day your kids will have as much trouble as you're having now. It's immensely satisfying I can tell you.