#2 Real Stories From Real Mommas

I have some exciting news.. drum roll please!

I am making a new blog just for the mommy stuff. The Real Stories from Real Mommas series has inspired me to create a whole new blog just for that (and all things momma). It's currently undergoing construction but will be up by the end of March (hopefully, cross you're fingers!). I will continue to do the series on my personal blog and when the other is finished I will just switch.

Since I posted the first "Mamas" series (read HERE) and the overcoming being molested post(read HERE) I have had so many viewers from all over. Trust me, I'm not bragging, this is what I wanted! I wanted these stories to reach all over the world to hopefully inspire or just make someone feel comforted. This is truly an honor and I just hope it continues!

That being said, as adorable as Owen is, I'm not sure I want everyone watching him grow up.. ? Does this make sense? I am a momma bear when it comes to that kid and since going through what I've gone through it makes me even more protective of my little cub. So I've decided I will have a personal blog (for friends and family to keep up to date, like a journal) And this new mom blog. Awesome right?

Eeeeeeekkkk!! I'm excited! This is going to be awesome!!

Oh and I am leaving town tomorrow for a week, being that tomorrow is Tuesday (Real Stories from Real Mommas day) I am going to post it today! Lucky you!! :)

This is a great one. My former Trek mama and dear friend shared this with me to post on the blog. I laughed out loud when I read this! Well, laughed and felt bad at the same time. I love it! This is from a real mama! I just know you'll love it too!

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I hate when laundry is dumped on the couch but one Sunday morning, not long after I had

my first child Sarah, I did just that so I could find some socks for my husband, Craig.

Even an hour after church, the laundry was still sitting on the couch because I had to nurse

Sarah. Just then there was a knock at the door and I went into panic mode. I handed 

Sarah to Craig to burp and headed to the door, making sure to stand between whomever 

was there and my couch. It was a new member of our bishopric who was bringing by

some paperwork for Craig. We talked briefly at the door and I made sure I moved as his

eyes moved so he wouldn't see our couch covered in clothes. He was there only a few

minutes and I felt some accomplishment as I shut the door, knowing he had not seen my 

couch!! But as I turned Craig said, "Krishelle, your shirt!" I had a button up shirt on which I

had undone to nurse Sarah and had never done back up. AND it wasn't only barely open, I

was new at nursing and so both sides were tucked way under each of my arms!!

#1 Post!! [Real Stories from Real Mommas]

This is the FIRST post of the new series

Real Stories from Real Mommas

 Oh my gosh I'm so excited for this! You ladies have made my week with all of the stories. So keep 'em coming. I love them! I have such a good start so I figured we better get started! If you are new and have no idea what I'm talking about please join in (look here).

This first post is by my sister in law Amy Davis. Check out her craft blog here!!! Thank you Amy!
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I have seen a toe get chopped off.

I have had someone flip my eyelid inside out.

I have seen gums scraped away from teeth.

I have been head butted in the mouth.

I have witnessed someone attempt to fly only to slam into a wall with disappointment.

I have bandaged bloody wounds.

I have wrestled people into the bathtub.

I have been vomited on.

I have seen a patient receive too much morphine and almost die.

What am I? A nurse? A nurse at a loony bin?

Nope.

I am a mom.

A mother to four children, ages 10, 8, 6 and 3.

All of those things happened with my children. I saw a quote that says,
“Having a two year old is like using a blender without a lid.”
I think having a child of any age is like that.

This is the thing though.

I also have perspective.

I know kids grow up.

I know that it happens quite quickly. 

I don't have any babies anymore and sometimes that makes me sad.

 I also know why moms of five kids don’t often talk about the pitfalls and disasters of motherhood. It is because no matter how neck deep you feel in the beautiful {or ugly} chaos that comes from having tiny kids,  it doesn't last.

Tiny is fleeting.

Even though when you're in the middle of it, it feels like forever.

 I remember when my oldest daughter was born.

Life was great until she was one. Then we moved to an isolated location where I knew no one.

I remember being alone a lot. 

I remember when one single day felt like it was at least a week long. 

I remember boredom and loneliness.

But I want to offer you hope.

You won’t always be changing diapers and cleaning up vomit.

You won’t always be cleaning up crayon on the walls.

You won’t always suffer sleepless nights.

You won't always be worried about your child trying to swallow small items they find on the floor.

You won’t always dread travel with an unpredictable pint sized human.

Your child won’t always cry at the most inopportune of moments.

 Kids grow up and eventually there are other things to occupy your mind with. Sure kid number three peed the bed for the fourth night in a row, but your oldest daughter is also being chased around the school yard by two boys that have a crush on her and she doesn't know how to tell one that she likes him more than the other.

Sure your fourth child threw the biggest temper tantrum you have ever seen, but your other child just won a major school sporting event. You never dreamed you could be filled with so much pride.

Sure your daughter just cut half her toe off, but then you pass by a bedroom that your other three kids are in and you over hear them saying a prayer asking God to help their baby sister get better. Their unity and faith is overwhelming and comforting to you.

I think one reason moms with young children get frustrated is because we find ourselves in less than ideal situations quite often and we can’t see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Let me assure you, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

 I adopted this mantra long ago when I felt myself despairing that I would never sleep through the night again.

“This too shall pass.”

I found it so comforting knowing that I was not in a permanent situation even though it felt written-in-stone-kind of permanent.

When you find yourself despairing your post pregnancy body, your sleepless nights, your messy house, your half dyed hair that you are hoping passes for the ombre style, your blown out diapers, your child who loves to go wild at all the wrong moments, say this and see if it helps. Say it and believe it.

“This too shall pass.”

Because along with the all the bad,

I have seen more love than I ever knew could exist.

I have cried for some unexplained reason while watching my children participate in a talent show.

I was filled with pride as my son made his first touch down.

I was just as nervous as my daughter was as she took second place in her school’s talent show.

I have conspired with my husband about how to keep boys away from my oldest daughter and convinced said husband that it was still okay for her to  wear a bathing suit while swimming and that a wet suit wasn't necessary to keep her fully covered.

I have dried tears when a friend said something hurtful to my daughter at school.

I have witnessed the most sacred and tender moments with my children and between my children.

My house is rarely clean, but it is filled with love and hope.

When you feel overwhelmed, remember: Tiny is fleeting. This too shall pass.

Good Luck out there, while you are in the thick of it!

Amy 

The Vital Role of Wife and Mother

“Beware of the subtle ways Satan employs to take you from the plan of God and true happiness. One of Satan’s most effective approaches is to demean the role of wife and mother in the home. This is an attack at the very heart of God’s plan to foster love between husband and wife and to nurture children in an atmosphere of understanding, peace, appreciation, and support. Much of the violence that is rampant in the world today is the harvest of weakened homes. Government and social plans will not effectively correct that, nor can the best efforts of schools and churches fully compensate for the absence of the tender care of a compassionate mother and wife in the home.” Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “The Joy of Living the Great Plan of Happiness,” Ensign, Nov. 1996, 74.

The Joyful Surpriseof Motherhood:

I am Sarah and this does NOT define who I am- 18/30 Forgiveness

Okay I'm finally back to the 30 Days Series.. If you are new and have no idea what I'm talking about-    Start here. The "Real Stories From Real Mommas" series are about to begin so keep a look out! (Hoping to start Tuesday)

18/30 What is the hardest thing you have had to forgive? Explain why.

I have been waiting for this one, counting down the days.

 I have butterflies in my stomach.

I'm Sarah and I was molested. 

This isn't so you feel sorry or sad for me.. Please don't, because I don't.
I have been honest and open on my blog since day one. This experience, being as sensitive as it is, has taken me a while to write in words. I've debating whether or not to write this for months now and I think I have finally built up the courage. I have been wanting to share this experience and am writing this for a
couple reasons..

 1. To break the silence. Sexual assault, molestation and rape are far more common that we think. People, parents, and children need to be more educated. (I am not saying to sit your child down and scare them..) But to teach them about their body and private parts. That they are never to be touched by anyone. This is just as or more important than teaching your child about kidnapping, bullying,etc. We live in a world infested with people who do horrible things. More common horrible things than we think. This isn't a downer post, there are also incredible people and beautiful things.. But just because there is good, doesn't mean we can ignore the bad. I would love to see the world through rose colored glasses, but let's get real, we just can't. Here are just a few facts about sexual assault and rape.

•  One in four women has been raped or sexually assaulted and one in five girls (age 12 and under) are  victims of sexually assault or rape
•  80% of victims are under age 30 and 44% are under age 18.
• There are 237,868 victims of sexual abuse a year
• 60% of those are NOT reported.
• 97% of rapists will never see the inside of a jail cell
• Every two out of three assaults are committed by someone the victim knows
• 93% of juvenile victims know their attacker
• Those children are three times more likely to battle depression, 13 times more likely to struggle with alcohol abuse and 26 times more likely to struggle with drug abuse
• There are 400,000 registered sex offenders/child molesters
• And 500,000 pedophiles online at any given time

(Statistics found at joyfulheartfoundation.org, www.oneinfourusa.org, and www.rainn.org)

2. To share, and by doing this I hope to help heal, encourage and give hope.

I'm Sarah and this does NOT define who I am.

For years this affected me in ways I didn't understand. Then the light bulb turned on and I realized I am the one letting it affect me. 

I'll let you in on the ending though..
I win. 

When I was five I was molested by the teenage boy across the street in Riverton, UT. Five years old and I remember. They were good friends of my family's and in our ward. His two younger sisters would babysit often, braid our hair, play Barbies', we loved her.

This is what I remember- My mom was visiting with his mom upstairs, I asked to play his drums (a favorite of mine), he said sure and led me downstairs. I remember a condition to be able to play on the drums. I had to pull my pants down and lay on the bed. Then I remember crying.


This is the rest of the story my five year old self used as a coping mechanism- Dad and mom came in to check on me. Seeing my dad's eyes filled with rage and my mom looked terrified. Dad throwing him up against the wall, swearing to kill him. There was a lot of crying.

Soon after this my family moved away to Ashland, Oregon. I remember my parents wanting to go visit some family in Utah and the old neighborhood friends in Riverton. Just talking about it with me, I started to panic. I got very anxious and nervous. This was when I told her what the neighbor boy did to me. This was the first my parents had heard of this. They called our new Bishop who then called our former Bishop. Our former Bishop called the neighbor boy in. He asked him if he had done this- he said no. He denied it. Said he didn't do anything.

I didn't know any of this had happened.. I didn't know the Bishops and my parents had talked. Later on when this was brought up again, my mom informed me on everything. I told her what I thought had happened and she corrected me. My dad never came in and hurt him. My mom didn't save me. My mom didn't know. My dad didn't save me. He didn't know. Which meant that..

  nothing happened to him?

 How could this be? 

I remember dad threatening to kill him! I do. 

Do I?

It was left at that. Nothing happened to him and nothing will. 

My parents were put in an indescribable situation. Do we try and fight it? Drag our eight year old though court? And seeing his face again? Or do we leave it be, pray that she doesn't remember and let God take this one? So they did just that, let God take over.

 I can sincerely say now that I think it was the right decision. I haven't always thought this way though. There were times I hated that he got away free. (I actually still don't like that). I wished my parents would've fought to hurt him, put him in jail. Take him out in the dessert. Something. But it isn't that way.

Because I need it to be.

The thoughts of him were always in the back of my mind. I was a pretty happy kid and had the greatest life my parents could give. But he was always there..I hated him. I wanted forget all about him. If I ever got the chance to meet him, I would tell him he was worthless. He disgusted me. He deserved to die. How could he do that to a five year old? He must be sick.

This wasn't a constant thought, but more than I would've liked. I still had friends and a life. High school came around and I played sports and kept up on my callings, not my homework but callings... For years I had nightmares. Gruesome, cruel, horrific nightmares; not normal nightmares. But of murder, rape and  kidnapping. In my teenage years I rarely went to sleep before one or two in the morning in attempt to hold back the night terrors. I just wrote in my journal or worked on my scrapbook. (Time I could have used to do homework). That usually kept me happy. Oh and I didn't realize this was a problem until I got married so it wasn't too horrible. I thought these night terrors were a normal thing so I just dealt with it.

Then I met Chris. We got married soon after we met and I struggled. A lot. I think that's pretty normal to struggle figuring out your marriage and relationship. The difference being, I didn't know Chris. I knew he was a good man. I knew he loved his mom and I loved that. I knew he would take care of me but that didn't make it easy.

We moved to Hawaii and I really struggled. I couldn't sleep, ever. I had nightmares almost every night. It got pretty awful. Not a day went by that I didn't cry to my mom and beg her to take me away; to get me out of there. I remember sitting on the bathroom floor, in the middle of the night, crying and writing in my journal while Chris slept. This went on for a while but very slowly got better. We moved to TVA (BYU-H married housing) and made so many friends. I was finally fitting in. I became a nanny to a few different families and loved it. We were invited to so many activities and explored the beautiful island. (I hate that I took that for granted)

Several months in, a good friend and I got into an argument, a pretty ugly one. We were almost kicked out of the campus housing because of a misunderstanding between her and her husband. Chris and I went to talk to my bishop about it.

 This really needed some bishop-ly advice. I went to the meeting feeling bitter toward her, going over what happened and rehearsing what I would say. He told me to forgive and forget. He didn't seem to involved/interested about my drama with friends.

And now, I see why.

 Instead, he asked me how I was doing, like really doing and I was honest. (Possibly too honest). I had never met him before and I now consider him a mentor, a role model and a dear friend. He took the time from his insanely busy schedule, as a professor, bishop, father and husband, to really help me. I told him I was having trouble sleeping. I told him about my nightmares. He asked me where they stemmed from and we talked about my past. We talked about the neighbor boy.

He said that he wanted to meet with me every week. The next time we met, I told him all about what my version of the story was. How I thought, for a good fifteen years, that my dad had hurt him and it was all taken care of. And how I found out that nothing had ever happened to the neighbor boy. How painful that was to hear..

We talked about what the next course of action would be.. How do we get past this?
I told him I wanted to write him a letter. A mean, ugly, hurtful, painful letter telling him just how disgusting he is and my bishop said "Okay" as he turned his chair around to get paper and a pen.

Grabbing the pen, I couldn't think of a single thing to write.

I told him how long I've wanted to do this. Or to show up at his door and just see if he has any idea who I am. Would he be sorry? Would he even recognize me? How many other little girls has he hurt? Has he thought about me since? So many things to say but what would it do?

Bishop asked if I would feel any better after writing a letter, and  I wholeheartedly said yes.
The letter never happened. I couldn't do it. As much pain I thought he had put me through, it wasn't him who did it, it was me. I was putting myself through this torture of reliving it. I was the one reminding myself. ME.

He recommended that Chris and I go to the temple. That we read scriptures every night and get even better at saying our prayers. But to be honest, that was the last thing I wanted to do. I was so angry. I didn't feel like they would let me into the temple. That they could somehow feel the hatred in my heart. My thought was that something should happen to him and praying wasn't going to do that. The next several months were difficult for me.

I can't remember what sparked it, maybe a Relief Society lesson about forgiveness or talking to a friend but something changed over the course of a year..I had been praying about the nightmares. I was begging Heavenly Father to get rid of them. All of the sudden I felt better, kinder. My thoughts about the neighbor boy weren't so bitter. I still didn't like him at all but I didn't exactly despise him. I noticed this and it worried me. It was scary. The fact that I didn't want to see him in pain made me question myself.

The last time I went back in to see Bishop, I felt peace.. Complete peace. This is such a strange feeling for me. I no longer wanted to write a letter or try to hunt him down. It took a lot of work and a lot of prayer.

 He helped me see that there is a light in the end of this long, exhuasting tunnel. That the more I let this go and gave it to the Lord, the better I felt and even more important, I could move on. I could progress. For some reason, maybe naivety, I never thought of the Atonement as a tool for those who needed to forgive. I have always thought of it just for those who need to be forgiven. And boy was I wrong. When they say it is meant for ALL of us, they aren't lying.

It wasn't easy. And I still think about him, not very often. But I don't intend to ever forget. I believe we are made to remember trials and mistakes to use as a helpful reminder for trials and mistakes to come. I am happily married to a very good man and we have a crazy, fun toddler, I have a great life. It is possible. You just have to let it be. It took me years to give this to the Lord. What if I hadn't? Where would I be now?

 I can now say the words "rape" and "molested" without feeling guilt, feeling sorrow, 

feeling hate, feeling sadness.

I have the gift of empathy for those who have been in a similar circumstance. This does not define who I am. I am a daughter of God, a wife and a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a lover, a volleyball player, a crafter, a cleaner, wannabe interior designer, a cub scout leader 

and having been molested will never change that. 

I don't like the word victim. It sounds too permanent, to current. I am not. I use to think I was. I am a champion, I'm victorious. You're only a victim as long as you let yourself be.

 That was my prayer in writing this, so I can help, encourage and inspire. I know many of you who may read this have been through something alike and I really hope you feel like you can make it. Because you can. I did and I'm proud of myself for it. Let yourself progress and move on.

 Life is so much better when you do.

Let's talk!

I have had several friends tell me lately to get ideas from other wives/moms and blog about it. Like, a whole book of awesome stories. So, I am here asking YOU to share you're most

hilarious, embarrassing, humiliating

experiences as a wife/mom. Ranging anywhere from newly married to giving birth to breastfeeding, diapers to teething. I would LOVE pictures if you happened to catch these moments. We all have incredible moments as wives and mothers and maybe that post/book will come later.. but I'd rather hear about the funny things that happen so I don't feel alone sometimes.

I am hoping to help this blog grow into a place where women can come and feel better about themselves, learn to laugh about the failures, the mistakes,  and also to be encouraged. Cause let's face is wife-hood and motherhood just sucks sometimes. Or am I the only one?  

Why not laugh about it?!?

So I follow blogs, like a lot of blogs. I don't check them all everyday and here's a reason why.

I've read so many "about me" captions on said blogs (under their perfect picture of the family or the author) where they say "I hope to encourage and laugh about the daily musings of motherhood" or something along those lines. You get me there, caught my attention, I'm so excited I found this new blog. I check and check and check and not once is there anything the about the failures, the "learning experiences", the life lessons, the pictures of the blow out diaper at Olive Garden (see here for that story).

Now don't get me wrong, not every blog needs to do this. I love my craft, my fashion and hair blogs,  but if you say you're going to share the daily life of a wife and mother.. Be honest and open about it.

 I don't know, maybe I'm wrong but my daily life as a mother is full of dirt, building block towers, playing dinosaurs, throwing balls around, changing diapers, killing bugs, eating food, trying to fit into clothes and maybe a project or two when I have the time.

 I guess that's what I want to see. I tend to feel bad about myself when I see the mom with five kids who has the cutest house, can come up with the most creative crafts ideas and her kid never throws tantrums... What am I doing wrong? The thing is.. I'M NOT! I know that the mom of five has hard days too, I know she doesn't always fit into the clothes she wants and that she gets thrown up on.

We live in a world so full of judgement and comparison. (Note: I am not stepping on the pedestal to preach, because I am sure guilty of it) I always feel better when I know my friends are going through the same or similar things. When they didn't get the laundry done today, yesterday or the day before. Or their kid pee's on the carpet just like mine does. I feel like I'm not the only one. And man that's such a relieving feeling. We all think we are "the only ones"..

I guess what I'm trying to say is.
 Tell me about it.
I would love to do a story a week on my blog. You would be featured and can tell your story. As long or short, as silly or sad, funny or sincere.

What do you think? We all have stories and I personally, learn best from others. I would love to hear your stories, advice, tips and tricks to being a mother. And I really think this is an opportunity for us to learn about each other and the so very similar but different lives we live.

 I think we were all put here for a reason,
 if we didn't need to learn from each other, then there would be no need for each other.

Want to share? Email me here: schendrickson12@hotmail.com

Motherhood {Part 2}

I am currently working on a post in the 30 Things series and it's taking me a lot longer than I thought it would. (If you don't know what I'm talking about you can find that here) So meanwhile, I thought I would write an updated post on motherhood. (You can find the first part here).

These are my updated feelings. I honestly can't remember if I ever posted my TRUE feelings about newborns or not so if I didn't you will get a feel for that now. My feelings about motherhood and babies has changed-dramatically. And as you well know, I love to be brutally honest. I love being real and bringing it all to the table-the good, the bad and the ugly.

At the beginning of this this journey through motherhood (I say as if I'm at the end? haha) I struggled (I like to make things at least ten times harder than they actually are) and I remember feeling such bitterness toward Chris, toward Owen and pretty much everyone within my vicinity.We all have regrets, right?

If you would've told me you were pregnant, I would've felt truly sorry for you. Or laughed and said "Good luck!". I would've said that it will be the most hell-like year of your life. That newborns are awful. That you will want to give it back.
When you told me "It get's better", I wanted to cry. Or yell in your face while Owen was screaming in mine,  that you were a liar. When they said, "Newborns are precious little gifts from God", I laughed, a loud, ugly, sarcastic laugh. Because Owen NEVER went to sleep before midnight, I hardly got a shower a week, let alone five hours of sleep a week. And I laughed even harder when you said you wanted him because I would've freely given him to you. I hated it when women would say they were in love at first site.. How? They are screaming, cone headed, and covered in blood and white goop.. Now before you start judging me, just wait.

CAUTION: Stop reading here if you get grossed out about the natural occurrences of the body of a mother. It's about to get real:

So, the body. A huge issue right after Owen was born. Not to say that I don't have issues with it now, but I mean like really, I struggled. I love that commercial when the husband takes the baby and says he will handle all of the errands for his wife, he heads into a class and the instructor says "Let's talk about body after baby" and he runs out. haha That's how I felt. Gross!
That's one thing no one really tells you about. It's okay though, it's hard for some people to explain- but that's why you have me. I can explain it very well. Now I'm not talkin', you have more fat than before (that's just a given), I mean when you're milk comes in and you all the sudden have a Pamela Anderson chest. I remember just staring. It would be okay if I hadn't been in soooo much pain. Nursing- ooh don't get me started. In the beginning, nursing a baby is hard and painful. Back to the point.. Or when the you get out of the shower and milk is spraying in a hundred different directions- the mirror, the floor, the ceiling, your face, your husband, who is holding the screaming baby waiting for you to feed. The bright pink/purple tiger stripes all over you're stomach, sides and thighs. The dark spots in thee most random places. The pound of hair in the shower drain. And the downstairs. Ouch. Oh I just cringe when I think about it- It's just all messed up, cut, ripped and sewn back together. Then you have to fill a bottle up with warm water and squirt it, as soft as you can, to clean off because toilet paper will stick. Let's not forget the granny panties or adult diapers you must wear if you don't want you're bathroom to look like a murder scene. But does anyone tell you that? No.

After all of this crap. After the contractions, after the labor, the midnight, two o'clock, four o' clock, and six o' clock feedings, the late nights, the throw up, the tar-like poop, dealing with a circumcision, the blow out diapers, the never-ending laundry, the nursing, the screaming, crying, loneliness, hormones, exhaustion, therapy, this could go on..

I love him. 

Because of all of that, I love him. Now, I still will tell you that the first nine months are hell. That you won't sleep and you might want to give him away. And you'll probably need therapy.

The difference is now, I can say, it's worth it. I finally am beginning to see. I would do it all over again to be where I am right now. Owen has changed me. (It's corny but so incredibly true) He is worth the pain, the tears, the heartache.

Motherhood is tricky and to be honest I think God planned it that way. Something about knowing good from evil, pain versus happiness, sorrow versus joy? I believe I had such a hard time because I needed to know for sure what real joy is. I wish I would've seen the beauty in the newborn stage, because there is. It's hard to see sometimes, but it's there. The sleepy smiles, the giggles and coo's. Hopefully next time I will take a chill pill and stop to smell the roses.

He is so fun now. Life is so much easier when he can do things himself. He is running, playing chase, jumping on the trampoline, copying everything I do, talking to me in a mixed language of English and Mandarin, farting and saying "oops", eating anything and everything, yelling "mommy" non-stop, and building block towers. He is awesome. He get's soo excited about everything. Yelling "vvrrroooom vrrroooomm" every time we see a truck. My little friend. My buddy. Did I ever think this day would come? No. Am I ecstatic that it has? YES!! I seriously thought I would never like him. Really.

I remember asking one of my friends in Hawaii about kids and babies. I said "What if I don't like my baby?" And she said "I didn't like any of mine when they were babies, I learned to love them as I got to know them. As they grew, we began to develop relationships". That has stuck with me. I'm grateful to know someone else that has felt the way I did about newborns. And that's how I feel about Owen. I love him now that I know him. He's my everything. He means the world to me. Oh parenthood, you are very interestingly fascinating.

There, my newly updated feeling's on motherhood. This is just my opinion and I understand that everyone is different. So take it or leave it.