I want to be a mom like you...

     "I want to be like you as a mom. What's your secret?", a friend of mine asked recently. To which I replied, "Ha! You don't know me well enough then!"
I spent the last few days contemplating what I should have maybe said instead to this brand new mom.

Motherhood is like being dropped into a foreign land. You can prepare for it, you can have all the accoutrements, but once you're there, chances are... you'll appreciate a guide. Befriend other moms, use them as a resource. No mom has the magic equation for raising kids. If they claim to have the formula for perfect kids, I avoid them like the plague. Those are not your friends. We all have some things we do well, and some things we don't. Take what works for you and gently discard the rest. Other moms are your Sherpas, your education, your respite, your village, your emergency babysitters, your sounding board, your vent release, and your commiserate sisters. Motherhood is truly a sisterhood. Some of life's experiences and trials are unique to being a mother. Older wiser moms are my best resource. Better than books. Better than the internet.

If you see a mom in Target losing her sh*t, remember that'll be you someday. I know you don't think so, but trust me when you have four kids, haven't slept in 3 days, you can't remember the last time you actually shampooed  your hair, you have to decide what necessities you can do without this week because your kid accidentally broke a big $50 ceramic dragon at the last store, you are pretty sure that's poop on your jeans, and your kids aren't listening.... that will be you. (Clearly, just a made up story that did in no way happened to me last week ;) So reserve judgment. Just smile and nod at her; the way that only fellow moms can, that says 'I know momma. I've been there too.'

Give up. Give up and let go of the illusion that your life, kids, marriage, and home is perfect. Live an authentic life, and learn to let the judgments of others wash over you. There will be many who will disagree with you as a mother. There will be people who disagree loudly. Let that go. Motherhood is your journey with YOUR kids. Be strong and confident in knowing that you are, and you know, what is best for your child. Side note, let toxic people go. Some people won't get your journey so don't invite them to travel alongside. I don't put effort into relationships that drain me; stop watering dead plants.

Apologize to your kids when you screw up. Someday you'll say something you wish you could swallow right back. Kids are naturally forgiving, but don't let it pass without an apology. You will screw up, and the mom guilt will be crippling. So, learn to forgive yourself.

Kids are people. They have fears, anxiety, preferences, feelings, dreams, plans, ideas, bad moods, and bad days.

When a baby is cranky you feed them, clean them up, snuggle them, play with them, give them attention, and put them to bed when they are tired. This also works for nine year olds.

Ask for help. It's not a sign of weakness. We used to teach girls to be moms, and we don't anymore. We used to have a community of family around to help each other. Our moms and grandmothers used to take a month off to come help us after babies were born. We don't have that anymore... but we do have these villages of friends we've cultivated and many would help if only we asked. Chances are you have a dozen friends who said, 'call me if you need anything.' They likely really mean it, but we seldom use that lifeline.

Never say never. As soon as you say, 'my kid will never cut their own hair...' be prepared to eat your words the next day.

Your priorities can be different, and that's okay. My priority will never be a spotless home. I'm the girl who's always measured success by skips and hops, chalk drawings, crayon masterpieces, creations, cookies, snuggles, adventures, stories and giggles. (But I also love the girl who's priority is a clean house... we need somewhere to hold play group!) I spent a lot of time feeling like a failure because I didn't have it all together. That is a sadness I would wish on no one. Perfection in a lie. Find the path to happiness that works for you.

Tell other moms when you admire them. The greatest compliment I could ever receive is that you appreciate me. Motherhood can feel thankless, so spread that kindness like confetti.

I love you. You are a wonderful Mother.  You are doing great just being you.

Telling Dan...

Where were we...

Oh yeah, we are pregnant, and we aren't supposed to be. 

Because we decided we were done "trying" and started "impeding".
Reminder: We both felt really good about it.

AND then I decided to pee on the last pregnancy test because I can't stand to waste crap.

So. Shocked.

I went to the store and bought a 2 pack  pregnancy test.

And took another the next day. Still positive, and darker. 

Then, Dan got the stomach flu.To hear him tell it: The mother of all stomach flu. 

He was pretty sure he was dying and I didn't want to be the nail in the coffin that did him in so I kept my news to myself for a few days. 

A couple more days past and I took the next test. Still two lines. Still positive. 

I decided that I would like to tell him in a unique way, because I had not ever been able to do that before. So I had this brilliant idea that I would make a meal of baby foods.(Apparently this is a thing, but I swear I thought I made it up. Although now I've been told it was featured on a infamous episode of Full House) So, baby back ribs, cooked baby carrots and baby potatoes, and midway through the meal I'd ask him to "get the bun out of the oven".  Now Dan is a smart guy. Super smart amazing man, but I knew ALL that would probably go over his head so I also made a little baby onesie to give him after dinner, away from the kids.

Dinner was ready at 5:30pm. 

I was so excited and scared. 

He called me at  6:30pm saying that he wasn't going to make it home until late and we should start dinner without him.  

Are you freakin' kidding me?!?!

We ate.

Plan B was this:

I made a quick trip to the store for his favorite candy. 

I made the bed and piled it on his side like so.

I waited for him to come home.

He FINALLY made it home, and said he needed to change out of his work clothes and lay down.  

So I waited on the stairs out of sight so I could hear his reaction:

"YES!!!!" (Him finding the candy)

"What the heck?!?!" (Him seeing the baby onsesie)

Silence...absolute silence. (me: 'crap')

So I go upstairs and and he's like just staring at the pregnancy test quizzically. 

My husband is a smart guy. I mean like super smart.

I love him so much!

He said, " I....do...not...think...you're... pregnant"

because he can also be a big idiot.

So I showed him the test instructions and pointed out the lines.  And he was still unconvinced.

So the next day I went to the store and bought a digital test which literally says

"PREGNANT" on it. 

THEN he finally believed me.

Note: our due date has been moved up a couple weeks, because as usual I'm measuring large.

Later, since he never really gave me much of a reaction I asked him what he thought. 

He said, "I knew something was up because you made the bed."

Which is, of course, such a glowing endorsement for me as an adult.

Go. Me.

How did we get here?

Hey there! It's been a while since I've been on the old blog. We are officially changing the name from "Thrice Blessed" to **Crazy Blessed** because...well we are currently cookin' another Jensen baby!

Many of you might have thought we were done having kids....heck even we did! So how did we get here, three months pregnant  with baby #4?

Well that's a story. After our last little girl, Paisley was born. She was perfect, and so was life. On the day we brought her home from the hospital, our little family was gathered around her bassinet just admiring her. And I said, "This is our last baby. We never have to do this again."

Brighton who was three years old, looked confused...and said with all the confidence of a 3 year old, very matter of fact...

"Mom don't forget about (name withheld)! They are in heaven and they want to come down and be part of our family. Promise me you won't forget about them."

Anyway, we laughed and chalked it up to being 3. 

But then a couple years past, the kids were sleeping through the night, there was money in the bank. I started to have a weird feeling. I would look into the rear view mirror and look at my three kids and then glance for a fourth. I would see our family picture and expect to see someone else. I would look around at Holidays and feel like someone was missing. These are all feelings I kept to myself because you know money in the bank, sleeping again....ect.

And then I started feeling those old feelings, I thought I'd buried. The deep physical and emotional desire to have another baby. I brought it up to Dan who SHOT that down, vehemently, decisively, and almost hysterically.  and, I understood! It was crazy and yet I couldn't help my feelings.  But I love my husband and want him to have the life he wants. And So I prayed that the deep longing I was feeling for another child will leave me. It didn't. 

Occasionally I would bring it up to Dan, but he felt "so completely done" and I had no hope he would change his mind. 

Some days I understood exactly where he was coming from and some days I was in anguish. 

I think most of you know: I'm LDS aka Mormon. My faith is a HUGE part of my life. 

Everyday I pray. I pray when I wake up, when I shower, when I drive, when I eat, when I'm hurt or scared or happy. Sometimes when people think I'm talking to myself, I'm really just talking to God. 

Anyway, When the feelings didn't dissipate. I changed my prayer to, "Are these feelings the answer, should we have another baby?"

And even though I was doing all that praying, I didn't feel like I was getting an answer. 

I decided I needed to go to the Temple.

A temple is a special place set aside as a place for ordinances, and serious prayer and reflection.

It's, in my opinion, the closest place on Earth to God. 

So I went and I prayed so sincerely that if we were meant to have another child I would know it definitively. I had such an immediate and complete peace come over me. And what can only be described as a gentle voice across my mind say...

Emily you already have your answer, now you need to pray that your husband also receives the answer. 

So I did. 

Two days later, Sunday, Dan handed me a note on our church bulletin that said,

"Baby?"

Afterwards, he said he felt an overwhelming feeling that our family was not complete the night I returned from the temple.

So, we decided to have another baby. Unfortunately, It took much longer then we'd have liked. and it was really discouraging. We had just decided that maybe having another child was not in the cards for us, but simply a test of faith. Every month passed and I struggled to understand the "why" and we decided together that we were done trying. I think we both felt really good about that choice. 

I embraced our family of 5 fully, and the new freedoms of our girls getting older. I picked out a new car...a 5 seater! 

One day I was cleaning out our bathroom cupboard and I had one last pregnancy test left in there. I'm weird I decided to pee on it, rather than just throw it away unused.  Imagine my surprise when it came back positive!!! 

Now, I just had to figure out how to tell Dan. 

but that's a story for tomorrow...

The year is ending...

So many of you know that I find annual Christmas cards to be one of the only legitimate excuses left for outright bragging about your family's accomplishments....

You might also know that even though I always have plans to get a Christmas card together and mailed out...it has never actually happened.

Still, the end of 2014 is a time for very serious reflection, and I am nothing if not incredibly serious.

Paisley

• Participated in a "Pooping Promotes Literacy" campaign, at the end of which she was completely potty trained, and had read the entire written works of Elmo. 
• Turned 3! Started 3 year old preschool, where she is the master of play-dough and puzzles. 
• Conquered her fear of public speaking and complete sentences.
• Learned the Alphabet. 
• Reigning Hungry Hungry Hippos Champion.

Fairon

• Graduated from Preschool, and started Transitional Kindergarten
• Stopped crying at school (Something we both conquered this year)
• Learned how to say the "L"  and the "th" sounds. The only one we are still missing is the "r" sounds. (All kidding aside, she has worked really hard on these!)
• Donated 9 inches of her hair to Beautiful Lengths campaign, looked adorable before and after!
• In 2014 she retained her title as the Jensen Family Drama Queen. 
• Learned how to put her face under the water

Brighton

• Graduated from 1st grade and started 2nd grade
• Continues to learn to navigate through "girl drama" in school
• Mastered her fear of the Tooth Fairy and Elf on the Shelf; decided to keep her fear of balloons,
• Holds the record for: Most Things Remembered ( that need to be shared) After Bedtime.
• Fell in love with Chapter Books
• Actually attempted to get her feet on the ball in soccer.

Emily

• Embarrassed children countless times
• 2 pinterest projects completed, both failures
• Gained and lost the same 10 pounds a half dozen times.
• Decided to have another baby & decided never to have any more children with equal parts certainty everyday, all year. 
• Finally perfected the art of extreme gesturing while speaking. 
• Accepted a calling at church as Assistant Girls Camp Director and a calling in the Primary Presidency.
• Continued working with Spec. Ed @ MNW elementary school
• Coached Preschool Soccer and decided never to do it again.

Daniel

• Started his 2nd year serving in our church Bishopric
• Told 1,837,043,684,765 dad jokes
• Looking forward to celebrating his 9th Anniversary with his smoking hot wife. (and his 9th anniversary with Coca- Cola)
• Was not offered the head coaching position at The University of Nebraska despite being highly qualified, but looks forward to continuing his love of armchair football coaching both the Cornhuskers and BYU.
• Allows our cat Muggles to live

The sad man who lives in our basement

I would like to preface this post with: I am of (relatively) sound mind and body. Unfortunately, a summer cold was caught and passed around our house this week. Last night, the girls ran me ragged bringing tissues, glasses of water, and snuggles from room to room.  When I finally did land on the first horizontal surface I came to (the love seat) around 5 o clock in the morning, I got all cozy, (again relative to a version of cozy), but I couldn't sleep because there was something knocking around in our basement. I thought it was almost certainly Muggles, our cat who is only active at nighttime. Eventually, I must have fallen asleep because I was woken up by Paisley putting her wet underwear in my face (this. is. motherhood.). She is potty trained, you know, except when she isn't. It's a rough stage. Anyway, I woke up and asked Paisley to take her wet clothes down to the basement and set them by the washer so I could put them in right during the first load of laundry for the day. Side note, there is nothing worse then finding a peed in set of jammies tucked in to the bottom of a laundry basket a few days later.

We have started making the kids be responsible for their own care. Washing their hair (with help), brushing their hair (with help), vacuuming up spills (with help), sweeping up after meals ( with help), taking their own laundry to the basement, folding it, and putting it away (with help).  Sensing a theme? That 'with help' bit, that means mom eventually does it...but the point is to foster a sense of independence and responsibility.

Where was I? Oh yeah, peed underwear in my face immediately upon waking. So, the following is our approximate conversation:

"Mama, Here!" (wet underwear in my face)

"GRRRUUUUGHHHLLLL" ( This is me waking up. I don't know what it sounds like but this is how it feels)

"Uh, Oh! Did you have an accident in your bed?"

"No."

"Then why are your panties wet?"

"Because."

"Take them to the basement and put them in the basket by the washer."

" I can't. The mean man by the wall scares me."

"OOOOOOOOK....... what?"

" I can't go to the basement. The sad man lives down there and he scares me."

"Can you show Mama the sad man?"

She shakes her head no. She is obviously scared. I'm getting totally creeped out. Eventually, she agrees to show me the sad man who lives in our basement.

Okay, I really want to impress upon the reader of this blog that I'm (relatively) sane. I do NOT believe in ghosts, but in our dark cinder block basement, that I often make jokes about being like unto a third world prison, I'm a little more open minded.  Also, I'm hyper rational. So, as I descend the stairs, I've also conjured in my head this scenario/urban legend where a homeless man breaks into our basement window and lives in the corner of our basement in a pile of our dirty laundry, unbeknownst to Dan and I, but befriends our children and makes them promise to bring him food and keep the secret. All of course while doing "tricky" things to them and making them feel scared. I have anxiety people, and an overactive imagination.

Where was I? Oh yeah, descending the stairs armed with a prayer, a little slugger baseball bat, and the tiny hand of a 3 year tucked in mine.

"Why do you have a bat Mama?"

"Mama is just putting it down in the basement. Paisley can you show me the sad man?" (totally creeped out.)

She points deep into the dark corner of the basement. I see a lurky shadow. I flick on the lights to find.....

The sad man is actually our porch decoration of Uncle Sam that we usually bring out in July, but this year kept tucked away because the brim of his hat is loose and I haven't gotten around to fixing it. 

Relieved, I explain to Paisley that he is a statue, hitting him a few times for emphasis, that he is not real.

"He doesn't like when you hit him."

"PJ, he is not real!"

"Then why does he talk to me?"  

AND... We are BACK. TO. CREEPY.

So I'm contemplating moving and burning Uncle Sam in a bonfire tonight, but Paisley starts laughing and we talk about how she was just using her imagination. But seriously, Uncle Sam might meet an unhappy end.

EHHHH, EEEEE, EEEE, EEEEE

(that's that stabby sound in old movies)

( is stabby a word?)

( I said "relatively" sane right?)

Neville Longbottom

My daughter Brighton has always been a daddy's girl. From the minute she was born she wanted her daddy. He would walk the floor with her on his chest for hours at a time, when she had colic. She goes to her dad when she is hurt, feels scared, or needs comforting. I don't have negative feelings toward this relationship dynamic at all. My husband is an amazing father, and I'm glad my daughter has someone who loves her that she can confide in. But, there are sometimes, I wish we could be closer. We have always connected over arts and craft; something we both love. Then, this last year Brighton's reading skills and comprehension just blossomed and I so started reading them chapter books at bedtime. I was thrilled that I could finally share with her something else I love. That we could talk and connect over my favorite books.

 Last night we finished the first Harry Potter.  From the very first time I opened it in the Middle School Library when I was in the 5th grade, I have loved the book. Not surprisingly, it was a book about a child with a difficult life, who was felt different and unloved, who one day finds out he is special, even magical. He gets to escape that life, and be a hero. I related to this because so much of the time I felt...unvaluable.  Brighton lives a much better childhood then I remember living. When I was younger, I felt very different from other kids, like I was somehow built wrong. My brain didn't seem to process information like other people. And I was socially defunct. Unfortunately, this seems to be Bright's inheritance as well. Add that with a natural proclivity toward weirdness, and BINGO we are raising a geek. In our house Geek, Nerd, Weird...those are not negative words. Being a geek simply means you love something a little more then the average person. It simply means you love more, and that's not bad.

Brighton LOVED  Harry Potter. She begged me nightly to read just one more chapter. It was slower going then we both would have liked because her little sisters kept falling asleep through it. Last night the little ones fell asleep with just 4 pages left. It felt like a shame not finish for Brighton's sake, so we continued.  When I read the part where Dumbledore gives Neville 10 points for standing up to his friends, I heard the shuttered breathing from the top bunk of Brighton holding back tears. I understood. I think I was too at that point. I finished the book and slid out from between the other girls on the bottom bunk.  I told her that when I was younger I felt like Neville all the time, and so that part when he is the hero makes me cry too. She said she is Neville too. We talked about how being different isn't necessarily bad. How feeling different much of my life, lead me to be an independent thinker. Eventually, I think I grew into my weirdness, and made friends with people who value me for it.  We talked about how difficult it is to stand up to people, and how much harder it would be to stand up to your friends. Sometimes in life you have to do that. I told her about the time my best friends in the world asked me to do drugs, and they all did, but I said no. How I sat apart from them feeling alone. And how that was one of the most difficult experiences of my life. And she talked about how far apart she is getting from her friends. How they want to be all grown up; do and say teenager things, and watch teenager shows, and wear teenager clothes and how she  is happy just being 7.

and...That makes my heart happy.
and it's all thanks to Neville Longbottom.

The World According to Emily

I have seriously neglected my blogging. When I first started the blog, I had every intention of keeping it about our family life and the girls growing up...a "keepin' up with the Jensens" sort of thing. But, I'm more then just a mom and while I love my kids tremendously (I'm sure no one doubts that) I am more then my roll as a mom. Sometimes I think we lose our identity in our children. Is it wrong? Is it bad? No, they are a part of us and make up the vast majority of our joy (and frustration); they make up our lives. But sometimes I just want to not talk about diapers, speech therapy, how to get sharpie off of hard wood floor, and nutritious foods at economic prices! I mean, I've got thoughts on gun control and the only person I seem to get to share them with is a three year old who's biggest current issue is that the good Lord seemed to have made her with no volume control. Sometimes I just want to talk about the world according to Emily.
I just turned 27. It wasn't good. It wasn't bad and the world did not end. But I'm firmly in my latter twenties and that is strange. I went to the mall the other day, put on my super cute wrap dress and my black boots. I noticed a few college age boys staring at me and smiling, trying to catch my eye, and I'm like "I've still got it, I'm one hot mom!"  Right?!? "I'm cute, I'm foxy, I'm working it"...wrong, there were Cheerios stuck to my butt. But, I still made them look good!
I get to work a couple days a week. I like my job taking pictures at the portrait studio. It's nice to be creative and develop a new skill. My hours have been reduced and the girl who manages the place is not someone I'm a huge fan of. People always ask me why I don't quit, and the answer is simply, most the time I really enjoy what I do. I get to see a lot of different people and get to know a ton of great kids, some I get to see every week or every month. I have three favorites: Alex, this great little smiley guy who melts my heart. Kypton, who looks like he fell out of a baby GAP ad, and little Sophia, who has been coming in every week since she was born and is now a beautiful happy 1 year old. And there are countless other awesome kids and families that I get to hang out with everyday I'm there.  Also, as much as I love staying home with my kids It's good to get dressed and get out of the house and speak to adults.When I first started working after 5 years of being home I was a little rusty. Someone would say " Hi Emily how are you today" and I'd say: "Thanks!" or "I good" or someone would say "You look nice today!" and I'd say "Good". but now I think have at least a slightly better grasp on my language skills.
A few days ago, A group of business men came in from a financial firm in Cedar Falls. We get a lot of brokers, realtors, and insurance agents who want business photos for billboards, business cards, bus benches, circulars, websites, and facebook pages. These are some of my favorites. The boss and senior partner in the firm showed up an hour early and sat waiting while I took pictures of a little boy, and answered phone calls and then took 4 passport photos who had appointments ahead of him. When the rest of his group arrived I took their photos. He didn't say a word to me and didn't smile the whole time. He was unrufflle-able and everyone seemed incredible intimidated by him. We chose the group of photos they wanted and he paid. When he was leaving he turned around and said, "You aren't from Fort Dodge are you?" and I said "No. Why?" and he said, "I just didn't get Fort Dodge off you. You were incredibly professional and did great job. If you are ever interested in a different line of work give me a call." and handed me his business card.  I've been offered countless jobs but that was by far the most meaningful. I got the feeling even being a secretary for this guy would be pretty lucrative. Anyway, not really seeming like someone from around here, is one of the nicest compliments I've received in a long time.
It's Paisley's 2nd birthday today. I've got to make that sweet little thing a birthday cake. It's so funny. Our first two kids were planned to the month and little Paisley was the biggest best surprise of all!!! Now, we couldn't imagine life without her in it.
Thanks for letting me ramble, Em