Sunday Girl.

Hi everyone,


Cara here. 


Today was our much loved General Conference. As I was chasing Roman, quite literally, from 5.30-7.20pm last night (or thereabouts) I didn't catch up with the Saturday morning (our Saturday night) session and so today I sat down to watch it.


About an hour in I fell asleep and woke up to a crashed computer. The screen had frozen after about a bajillion attempts to watch the session - I'd previously refreshed it about a bajillion times. However, what I did see I loved. I really needed to hear everything that was said - especially the story about the young couple who were medically unable to have children.


I'm not infertile (that I know of) but I can relate somewhat to the pain of not having the amount of children I'd like. The future is a funny place, so we'll see what it holds, but I feel in my gut and in my heart that we won't be adding to our earthly family. And today, for the first time in a long time, I'm okay with it. Certainly not happy or unhurt, but the desire to add to our family is there and I know I will be blessed for my righteous desires in the eternities. 


On top of General Conference somewhere in the illogical part of my brain I decided it would be a great idea to have a mini Spring clean. Maybe it was the 5 hours of sleep or the fact I was 20 minutes away from lunch and passing out from hunger that drove me to it...but wow. Vacuum cleaners are not clean places. I feel sick thinking about the amount of grime that came  out of that dirt machine and I'm very inclined to believe my toilet is probably a much cleaner place than my vacuum.


The disgusting list of gross things from the bowel of the muck monster (my vacuum):


Some kind of cat hair. We don't own a cat. 
Noodles. Noodles? I haven't had noodles in weeks.
Slime. Grey-brown slime.
Grit and lots of it.
Shards of glass.
Lots and lots of human hair. 


I am rightly revolted. Horrendously horrified. Deliriously disgusted.


When will the robots come to take over all these chores? And I wonder if they'll cover that in General Conference.*


Anyway. I heard something about General Conference and then I found something on Pinterest. Apparently people make lots of yummy food, you know to mark the occasion, and I thought this was a fantastic idea. I actually darted out to the shops at the last minute to pick up a nice dinner and I'm actually going to make a cake (from a packet, mind you) and be just like everyone else for a change ;).

Oh yes and if you're not Mormon and have never heard of General Conference then please read all about it HERE.


*Was that totally irreverent? 

Reminder.

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Lest we forget, he's always there to remind us to pray. 

Yep, in 2012, there is a family that prays. I know many. I can't help it, we're Mormon. We have never enforced our beliefs onto Roman - and never will - he just copies what he see's and is happy to say a dozen or so little mumbly prayers each day with his arms folded like this. He'll go to a quiet spot; a little corner or near toys, fold his arms, sometimes bow his head and he'll begin a little prayer of his own.

When food comes into the room he'll exclaim; "PRAYER!" and fold his arms, waiting for us to pray and give a special blessing and thanks for our food. When he is all dressed up and ready to go he'll shout; "PRAYER!" and again, have his arms folded. At night it's "Scip-tures" (reading our holy scriptures, something we do every night as a family.) And after scip-tures we'll get a little excited; "PRAYER!" and a little man waiting, arms folded, for his family prayer. 

To me prayer is a way of communicating with my Heavenly Father. He's my biggest confidante - he knows everything. I spill my hurts, trials, triumphs, secrets and everything in between. And admittedly there are times when I forget to pray - that is until Roman reminds me with this little pose ;).

Sunday Chaos.

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This morning I was grumpy, Roman was cheeky and Bryan was rushed, as ever.

Because I woke up with a thumping headache, sore throat and achy muscles I couldn't make it to church and Bryan put me to work in supervising breakfast, then cleaning up Roman and stressing out when he tipped a full glass of water onto our bed (yes, he is cheeky.) This was my fault as I had put on Chuggingtons for Roman in an attempt to get more sleep - you think I would learn by now.

As Bryan rushed around getting everything done I wanted to crawl back into bed. As soon as they left I thought to myself: I should have just gone to church, I can't get back into a soaking wet bed. 

I'm happy in knowing that Roman is able to go to church every week, he comes home happier, brighter and full of little songs they sing in Nursery.

Parenthood is not a hobby...

"Motherhood is not a hobby to be done in your spare time, it is what God gave you time for." 

- Elder Neil Andersen

Can't have said it better myself. Although would like to add that it can be applied to fatherhood, too, as there are a lot of fathers out there who simply think that by popping their head round the door a few times a week and then buying chocolate at the weekend qualifies them for fatherhood.

Of which I'd like to state that my husband isn't. He gets up with our son almost every morning, feeds him each and every meal, does nearly every nappy change, takes him out on adventures and then bathes and puts him to bed at night. He's a madman when it comes to childcare and I can't think I'd be doing all these tasks so graciously if it was me doing it all full time. 

Sometimes I hate being full time sick but being married to Bryan lightens that burden a lot. He can't invent a cure for me and sometimes doesn't always know what to say when I'm losing it and fed up of it all but he takes care of me and Ro - and does it in a way that involves zero complaints and little criticism. That to me is more than enough and doesn't even cover why I think he's the best husband in the World.

Yet he faces more criticism than praise in the World for his role and that's ridiculous - he is such a huge part of Roman's every day life and will essentially help to shape the man he becomes.

My own dad is a work horse. I can't think of many times where he wasn't working. But when he was with us, he was with us. Present. In that moment we were in. We'd always be involved in whatever he was doing and one time, when my mum was away with my oldest brother at camp, me and my sister convinced him that cookies and lemonade (a fizzy drink in the UK, not the flat American type) were our lunch-box staples. I suppose the balancing act of this deception was that he burned our dinner nearly every night. Karma is served - and very crispy it was, too.

My mum is a power house. Four kids all under 5 years old gives you some perspective on the situation. Both of my parents were always firm with us, but you always knew you were loved. I've known people who had strict upbringings and they didn't always feel loved. I did. There's a difference.

My mum also began home-schooling us (although you didn't call it that back then because 'home schooling' meant you were 'weird') through our school holidays. She called it 'Mummy School' and at first I dreaded the thought of this. We all took part and oddly enough really behaved ourselves. We'd do an hour before lunch and then an hour before dinner and it probably turned me into the grammar Nazi I am today. Part of this home-schooling was scripture study - on top of our family studies - and we'd take it in turns to read various verses of the Book of Mormon, getting through a chapter each night between the five of us.

This all sounds a little strange to you, right? Well to me it was home sweet home. Home sweet normality. And seeing as my brother had some troubles with his spelling and reading it was essential and instrumental in his development. And by having us all join in, it didn't single him out. 

I am so lucky and so glad I wasn't just a weird social experiment of my parents and that I wasn't an after thought or a hobby to them. That I was a real, living breathing individual with my own thoughts and feelings. And I am most grateful to my mum for the time she sacrificed in order to make our development accelerate.

I'm glad they took the time God gave them to be parents.