A small, I mean large, insight into my soul

I've been overwhelmed lately. It's true. And I bring it on myself. I have all of these things ubiquitously in the back of my mind that I want done. And I want them done right. I want to shower and get ready each day. How difficult can it be? I want my kitchen floor mopped at least every other night. I want my bathrooms thoroughly cleaned spic-and-span once/week. I want to weed 30 minutes/day. I want to paint my childrens' beds black. I want to get a large picture of each child edited, re-sized, printed and hung. I want to learn about photography. I want to involve my children in a service project for someone else once/week. I want to build up my food storage, I only want to eat home-made bread. I want time each day to study the scriptures and ponder in a silent room until I've experienced something meaningful - without falling asleep. I want to spend a whole day with my family at Bear Lake building castles and getting sand permanantly lodged into our bodies. I want to find time to do all this AND be available for my children in a way that allows me to be patient at any given moment, providing my children with the perfect example of unselfish love right in their home, right before their very eyes. I want to play with them on the floor and thoroughly enjoy it with no thoughts of all the other things I could be getting done. I want my children to hear from the scriptures every day. I want them to know all the primary songs by heart and sing them with cheerful vigor. I want them to enjoy working. I don't want my children to watch t.v. during the week days. I want them to have millions of happy childhood memories to share with eachother when they are older.

Well, so all I need is a schedule right? Right! O.k., nap time is over. It's time for us to go on an outing. As we get ready, Ethan is grumpy. "Thomas!" He wants to watch Thomas, of course. Again! O.k., go watch Thomas while I get us ready. McKenzie is disappointed that she doesn't get a popsicle because she already had one earlier for "McKenzie Time". "Well, I'm not having one for McKenzie Time tomorrow!" she yells. "You're right," I say in a super-human calm way. "You're not having one at all tomorrow because you talked rudely to me about it instead of being thankful for the popsicle you did get". She throws a tantrum. Asher is crying because he's hungry for something that isn't one of the 5 things on his tray. My schedule for an outing is from 4-6p.m. It is now 5 p.m. Why doesn't everyone get with the program? This was supposed to be a fun, cheerful, smooth event. Thomas.....Tantrum.....Trauma......Thomas.....Tantrum.....Trauma....(it looks so clean and simple written that way in order - and not overlapped into one globby mess of a noise, which was really the case)...o.k., so we'll start a schedule tomorrow. Everyone upstairs. We're watching a movie. And to justify that we're watching t.v. again and to remove a portion of my guilt, I will hold you during it and tell you how great I think you are and hope it equates into a happy memory. Thus my cycle of being overwhelmed: the reality doesn't quite match what I've dreamed up in my head. The solution? I have too much in my schedule and I'm expecting too much of all of us - most of all, myself. Something has got to go. In fact, if I put first things first - like the scripture-studying, song-singing, what else matters? Not much. Sure, Asher will be grabbing relentlessly at the pages and Ethan will be upset that we're huddled around a book that doesn't have a little blue train on the cover. It will be difficult to feel the spirit between his outbursts of angry. But, after a couple of weeks, or months, or by the time they are 22, they should get used to the idea, right? Simplicity. I need to make it my motto. Because when you really think about it, how much more time is there in a day than what is required to: eat breakfast, clean up, get ready for the day, study scriptures, sing songs, family prayer, make lunch, eat lunch, clean up, nap time/quiet time, make dinner, eat dinner, clean up, bath time, go to bed? O.k., there are a few moments between there. But, those should be reserved for spontaneous experiences like this:

Ethan spent 10 minutes trying to capture this fly that was flapping against the window. It delighted him. He would get so close and then it would buzz free. He never did catch it. Time wasted? No. I envy that children seize the moment and aren't measuring it against some predefined value of time. And, yes, that is peanut butter smeared across his face - another example of living the moment to its fullest. SIMPLICITY. Tomorrow our schedule is: Get ready, sings songs, family prayer, read scriptures and stay nourished. If anyone doesn't want to get with the program, they can throw a tantrum in their rooms - while the rest of us sing "The Lord commanded Nephi to go and get the plates" loudly and happily enough for them to hear and regret their decision. Wish us luck. But, seriously, if there is a mother out there who has mastered the art of reading scriptures daily with her children, I'm begging you to share. Don't be afraid to tell me all about it. If you need to toot your own horn, toot from the rooftops. Tell me how to get it accomplished! If I can only choose one thing to do well (o.k., so now we're getting realistic), that would be it. I've gotta learn - and I've gotta learn now. And don't tell me it can't be done with a 10-month-old, 2-year-old and 4-year-old. I won't accept it.