The Book Blab Episode 17: All Things Book Clubs Plus Two of Our Favorite Books for Mother's Day

Well, that was kind of a long hiatus, but Suzanne and I are finally back with another episode of The Book Blab! This one was worth the wait though, I promise.

Long-time readers will know that I have been a dedicated member of my book club (actually, several) for many years. Suzanne, it turns out, is the same, and between the two of us, we have quite the array of experiences. We had fun reminiscing about the various book clubs we've participated in, and we also shared a few tips and tricks for how to make a book club work no matter your situation.

The time flew, as it always does, and so we never got around to actually talking about the kinds of books that work well in a book club, so stay tuned for part two of this discussion!

As always, we'd love to hear about what your experience in a book club has been like, what some of your favorite book club reads have been, and why you think book clubs are so amazing (because you do think they're amazing, right?!).

Enjoy! (Oh, and p.s., please excuse the little technical glitches in this episode. We had a bit of a slow connection.)

1:00 - Life updates
1:50 - Today's topic: book clubs
2:40 - Why would you want to be in a book club?

• 3:20 - A book club lets you discuss those books that beg to be discussed
• 4:08 - A book club helps you see a certain book in a new way
• 4:16 - It's fun to socialize with other readers
• 5:10 - A succinct answer to that question

5:58 - A few descriptions of some of the book clubs we've been in

• 6:17 - Suzanne's traditional book club in Chicago
• 7:50 - Suzanne's casual book club in Houston
• 8:03 - Suzanne's Learning Circle through the Power of Moms organization
• 9:22 - Amy's education group
• 10:15 - Suzanne's brand new book club in Kansas City
• 10:33 - Suzanne's virtual book club with former college roommates
• 11:57 - Amy's neighborhood book club
• 12:58 - Amy's very traditional, very serious book club
• 15:55 - Amy's family reunion book club
• 17:00 - Suzanne's family book club (and surprising confession!)
• 17:53 - Amy's plans for a book club with her kids this summer
• 19:30 - The Book Blab mini-book clubs

20:18 - Helpful tips for making a book club work well
25:36 - A few ideas for how to start a book club
29:26 - Two of our favorite books about motherhood

• 30:05 - Suzanne's recommendation
• 31:20 - Amy's recommendation

33:47 - Conclusion

Books and links talked about during the show:

The Read-Aloud Family by Sarah Mackenzie
Power of Moms Learning Circles
Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis
Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner
The Four Tendencies by Gretchen Rubin
Mini-book clubs on The Book Blab (Episode 6 on A Man Called Ove and Episode 13 on The Girl Who Drank the Moon)
Educated by Tara Westover (Suzanne's review)
The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey (Amy's review // Suzanne's review)
The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio by Terry Ryan (Amy's review)

How I Involve My Kids in Helping Out Around the House

When I wrote that post last month about celebrating our unique mothering strengths, I listed "teaching my kids how to work" as one of the things I like to do.

Today I thought I'd offer a bit more of an explanation.

When I said that, I didn't mean we always have a spotlessly clean house or that I have a perfect system for getting my kids to do chores. Like most things in life, it is a constantly shifting routine that changes with my kids' ages and stages.

However, teaching my kids both the value of work and how to do it is a priority to me, and because of that, I make sure they have daily and weekly opportunities to be contributing members of our family.

Before I share some of the nitty gritty details however, I have to tell you my personal motto. When kids are helping around the house, it is highly probable that THEIR finished task won't look like YOUR finished task, not to mention it will probably take them twice as long. It can be easy to watch their sloppy efforts, throw up your hands in frustration, and say, "Never mind! Go play! I'll do it myself."

But stop. Take a deep breath. And repeat after me: It's better than it was. Really, I promise you it is. If they're vacuuming, they're sucking up something. If they're dusting, it's less dusty than it was. If they're washing the windows, at least some fingerprints are disappearing (and okay, maybe a few streaks are taking their places). Sometimes I spend most of Saturday morning chores turning a blind eye to the things I can still see and instead say to myself, It's better than it was. It's better than it was.

That doesn't mean I never offer correction or instruction, but it is important for me not to get hung up on the tiny little perfections. I let my kids take ownership of the job they've done, and I try be grateful that it's better than it was.

Now I'll share a little bit about how we break down the work in our house, as well as a list of the tasks my kids help with. We have daily responsibilities, family expectations, Saturday chores, and summer jobs.

On a daily basis, each child is expected to:

• make his bed
• practice the piano
• brush his teeth
• straighten up his bedroom
• do any assignments he didn't finish at school

You'll notice that there aren't a lot of traditional chores on this list. That hasn't always been the case, but it's what is working for us right now, mainly because those chores that used to be part of the morning routine are now reserved for other times (see below). These are the things that I feel are essential for a productive morning. (However, just this week, I reminded the boys that I expect them to pick up their bedrooms before they leave for school, and I was met with blank stares and protests of, "I have never heard you say that before." Sigh. This is why I sometimes feel like I'm beating my head against a brick wall.)

Part of the reason why I've chosen to keep daily chores to a minimum is because I expect them to just help out when I need it. Being part of a family means contributing to the care and upkeep and cleanliness of the home. So while they don't have very many formal daily chores, they are given "in the moment" jobs multiple times a day. These requests might include:

• Pick up 20 items in the family room
• Do a two-minute speed clean up
• Sweep the floor
• Put away the laundry
• Wipe down the kitchen table
• Put all the toys away in the backyard
• Clean up a game that a younger sibling left out
• Play with the baby
• Wipe down the bathroom counter
• Take out the trash

And here's a little tip one of my friends shared with me. If I phrase the request as, "Would you be willing to . . ." rather than "I need you to . . . " my kids are much more likely to respond cheerfully. I don't know why. But just changing the phrasing helps a ton.

The daily cleaning is mostly fast and superficial. It keeps the surfaces clean and the living spaces neat. It's reactive (i.e., someone spilled milk so it must be cleaned up). We reserve the heavy duty, deep cleaning for Saturday morning.

I instituted Saturday morning chores over a year ago, and it is still working so well. I think most families do some form of Saturday cleaning, but up until a year ago, ours was definitely more of the casual variety, and consequently, my kids always felt it was negotiable and worth complaining about. Now it's set with clear expectations: the whole family (including Mike and me) will clean for two hours on Saturday morning. It's amazing how much we're able to get done during that time, and many of the odd jobs that were being neglected before are now getting done much more regularly (long before they're a blatant problem).

Chores are begun immediately after breakfast. I usually write up a list for each boy so he can check off each task when it's completed. This list of jobs is meant to take about two hours to finish (although they've been known to stretch it out much longer . . . ). Occasionally, to change things up, we'll forego the lists and Mike will direct the cleaning, giving them one task at a time and having them come to him when it's completed to get another one. (Notice I said Mike will do that. I prefer the lists so they're not coming to me every two minutes. He prefers to just work hard and fast together.)

Here is a sampling of Saturday morning jobs:

• Clean bedroom (this is different from the daily task; it's much more thorough)
• Clean under bed
• Organize closet
• Vacuum couches
• Dust living room
• Clean baseboards
• Scrub down kitchen chairs and benches
• Wipe down light switches and door knobs
• Wipe down kitchen cupboards
• Organize pantry
• Vacuum around edges
• Clean windows
• Fold laundry
• Sweep out car port
• Clean out van
• Vacuum van
• Vacuum family room/living room/bedrooms/etc.
• Vacuum under couches
• Sweep and straighten shoe closet
• Organize game closet
• Straighten book shelves in library
• Clean out fridge
• Wipe down microwave
• Mop kitchen floor
• Clean mirrors
• Clean toilets

I know someone will ask what chores three-year-old Clark does, and the truth is, we let him do whatever will keep him busy and occupied while the rest of us are working. Sometimes he's doing little odd jobs, sometimes he's shadowing an older brother, and sometimes he's playing. Most of the time, he's begging for a snack. Because he's Clark. I think one of the best ways to teach a younger child to work is just to let them see everyone else working and incorporate them into the mix as much as possible. There's a certain camaraderie that comes from working together and the younger ones will feel that and want to be a part of it.

The final component in our cleaning regimen is summer jobs. I use the summer months as a time to teach my kids new skills. Each child learns how to do several new household tasks over the summer. Last summer, Aaron learned how to thoroughly clean the bathroom (toilet, sink, floor, etc.) and do the laundry from start to finish. Maxwell learned how to wash the dishes and weed the garden. Bradley learned how wipe down the kitchen table and sweep.

They also get a longer list of daily jobs in the summer because they have more time and the house seems to get messier since they're all home all day. Their new skills are usually a part of their daily routine, and this gives them lots of additional practice as well.

That's a pretty good rundown of how things go at our house. It's not a perfect system. Just last week, I realized I haven't been having my kids help with cleanup after dinner, and I feel like that would be a good idea. My kids don't always help willingly and cheerfully. And sometimes I send them all to the backyard because it's so much easier to just do it myself.

But most of the time, I stick with it because I feel like instilling a strong work ethic in kids is so important to their future success as adults. And also because now that I've invested the time to train them, they actually can be quite helpful.

And on days when chores are not completed the way I want them to, I remind myself, "It's better than it was." 

Do you have some "cleaning with kids" tips? Share them in the comments!

The BEST Kind of Mom

Aaron will turn ten this year, which means I will also be celebrating my tenth anniversary of motherhood.

Becoming a mother was probably the easiest transition of my life. It was easier than going to college; easier than marriage; easier than moving. It just felt so good and so right.

But even though I was always content to be a mom, I wasn't always comfortable in my own mom-skin. I often found myself watching other moms, both older and younger, with more or fewer children, and thinking I should be . . . different.

Excursions to the park would trigger feelings that I either wasn't being interactive enough (observing the moms who were narrating all their children's actions while going down the slides with them) or was paying too much attention to them (observing the moms who were absorbed in a good book while their children entertained themselves).

I tended to feel extremely guilty when one of my children was invited to an elaborate birthday party because I knew I would never be throwing a similar party for him.

But I had a bit of a turning point about three years ago when I read MotherStyles, which was all about how Myers-Briggs personality types could be specifically applied to motherhood. The book made the case that you naturally have certain strengths and weaknesses and that rather than try to give yourself different strengths, you should focus on the strengths you already have.

My thoughts further evolved last year when I used a quote by Marjorie Pay Hinckley as my theme for 2017. She said,

"I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor's children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.

At first, I tried to force myself to be the kind of mom she seemed to be advocating--one that would almost certainly welcome all the neighborhood children into her kitchen for warm cookies and cold milk.

But anytime I tried to be that kind of mom, I felt tense and irritable, which led to feelings of guilt, which led to me feeling bad about myself.

The more I thought about it, however, the more I realized Sister Hinckley's statement was less about becoming a certain kind of mother and more about being present and involved in the way that suited me best. There were many ways to show the Lord that "I was really here and that I really lived."

In the book Crossing to Safety (side note: if you haven't read it, read it), Larry Morgan's father gives him this piece of advice: "Do what you like to do. It will probably be what you do best."

Last year, I began paying attention to certain activities and actions and how they made me feel: when was I happiest as a mom? when did I feel the most anxious or grumpy? when were the times I felt fulfilled and proud of myself?

It turned out that the things I liked to do were, no surprise, the things I was best at. Maybe I needed to spend more time using my strengths and less time trying to force myself to acquire new skills. Maybe I should let the moms who were good at the things I was bad at do those things so I could have more time to do the things I was good at.

Maybe, just maybe, if we moms played to our strengths instead of our weaknesses, our kids would have exactly what they needed.

In light of that, here are a few of my strengths (i.e., the things I do well):

• Reading aloud
• Teaching my kids how to read
• Doing puzzles
• Going to familiar places, like the library, pool, or park
• Giving piano lessons
• Teaching my kids how to work
• Recording important moments in my journal
• Having one-on-one special time
• Having consistent mealtimes, nap times, bedtimes
• Taking photos on a regular basis
• Celebrating birthdays and holidays with simple traditions
• Making/achieving goals
• Cuddling
• Making a photo calendar
• Memorizing poems/quotes/scriptures
• Going on walks

And here are a few of my weaknesses (i.e., the things I don't do well):

• Engaging in creative, imaginative play
• Doing messy, involved crafts
• Throwing themed birthday parties (with 20 children)
• Going to the store
• Going on new adventures
• Making dinner
• Making memory or photo books
• Organizing play dates
• Enjoying lots of noise
• Inviting neighbor kids over
• Being okay with messes
• Playing games
• Being spontaneous
• Being patient
• Not yelling

This shift in mindset has done wonders for my identity as a mother, but it has also given me an unexpected blessing, which is that I love other mothers more. I no longer feel jealous of their cake decorating/infectious enthusiasm/fun games/fill in the blank skills (not most of the time anyway). Instead, I think, That's one of their strengths. They're doing something they love. That is one of the ways they find joy in motherhood. (And interestingly, many of my weaknesses are actually Mike's strengths, so it has helped for me to recognize that as well.)

This is not to say there aren't things I could improve or skills that would be beneficial to acquire (see "being patient" above). However, I have chosen to embrace the good things I'm doing and look for ways to build on the strengths that are already there rather than try to do something (poorly) because another mother is doing it.

So you probably won't see me playing a magical dinosaur game in the park, but that's because I'm curled up on the couch with a big stack of picture books. And that feels just right.

I'd love to hear about some of the things you do that make you feel happiest as a mom. Or, conversely, what is something you're willing to let go of because you don't enjoy it? 

The Sweetness of Boys

When we were pregnant for the first time and found out that the baby would be a boy, I'll confess, I was a little disappointed. I had always pictured a girl first--one who would be sweet and thoughtful and nurturing (and probably a little bossy, too). But a boy. I just couldn't imagine a boy being any of those things.

I, of course, have changed my perspective in the intervening years. Boys are not the same as girls to be sure, but I've seen their kind, compassionate sides, and I love them for it. But even with this love and adoration for my boys, I had no idea that they were capable of orchestrating the best mother's day I've ever had.

It started weeks ago when Max put a box in his closet and began filling it with little presents he made in his spare time. I was under strict orders not to look in the box when I came in to get the laundry.

Around that same time, Bradley started crossing off the days on the calendar, giving me the most current countdown: "Only twelve more days until Mother's Day!" As the day approached, he grew increasingly excited, "Don't forget what's going to happen on Sunday, Mom."

I have to admit, I kind of wondered if they were confused about the purpose of Mother's Day. They did realize, right, that it wasn't a day for kids but for moms?

On Saturday night, Max set his alarm for midnight. His plan was to get up and clean the whole house so that it would be all ready for me when I woke up. Mike and I were the only ones who ended up hearing his alarm when it started beeping incessantly in the dead of night, but when he woke up at a normal time the next morning, he didn't let the lost hours stop him from getting right to work straightening up Clark's bedroom and the living room.

They let me sleep in and then showered me with gifts the moment I woke up: cards and bookmarks and pictures and crafts. There were so many little items in Max's box that we had to take a break so we could eat breakfast.

Here's some of what I found:

• a board game called "Get the Kisses"
• many origami hearts
• a little paper bag filled with six paper books
• hand-stamped notes
• a little scotch-taped paper container to keep my earrings in
• paper clip chains that spelled out the word "red" (my favorite color)
• coupons for basement and room cleaning
• homemade cards with fancy pop-ups

Sometimes I get a little stressed when my kids make me things because, as someone who doesn't love clutter, I just don't know how to handle all of it. But yesterday, I just basked in it. I thought of all of the hours and hours of work that went into it and realized, My kids are celebrating me because they want to. I am not just some afterthought. They didn't realize the morning of, "Oh I guess I better make Mom a card" and slap something together. They've been prepping for this day for weeks because they wanted to make me feel special.

Even Mike was surprised. There have been years when he has put forth a lot of time and effort to involve the boys in planning something sweet, but the week got away from him (and Mother's Day fell early this year). He still got me a gift (a kindle, which deserves its own post since it's taken me a long time to decide my life could benefit from having an e-reader in it), but he didn't take the boys out shopping or help them make anything for me. But his worry was unneeded. His boys paid attention to the date themselves and got ready for it on their own.

We spent the morning at church where the Primary children sang a couple of songs in sacrament meeting and filled out those fun questionnaires (for the question, "My mother loves to . . ." Max wrote, "read, take a nap, read to herself"). Bradley wore the sweater he doesn't like because he knows I like it. Clark handed me a paper flower with his picture in the middle and said, "Here, Mommy." In the afternoon, I read aloud to them (we just started Voyage of the Dawn Treader), and then I took a nap (so it appears Max knows me pretty well). No one fought or argued (or at least, not much).

In the evening, my brother and his family came over, and Mike made the most amazing salmon and shrimp (and he doesn't even like shrimp).

And through it all, I just kept telling myself, Pay attention. Remember that. You will never get another Mother's Day like this one. 

Maybe that's kind of cynical of me to say. But I realize I'm in the golden period of motherhood right now. My kids are old enough to carry on an interesting conversation and help out around the house but not so old that their parents don't know anything anymore. I would love it if they always looked forward to Mother's Day this much, but there will probably come a time when it will feel less like a privilege and more like an obligation. Life gets busy, and holidays become a burden because they come around so quickly, and a homemade card no longer seems to cut it.

I know a lot of moms who don't like Mother's Day because it brings up a lot of guilt. I certainly feel some of that, especially when my kids are so sweet to me and I remember all of the times I've been a real monster to them (although it definitely goes both ways, if you know what I mean). But mostly I just feel gratitude on Mother's Day: for my own mother, of course, but also for the opportunity to be a mother.

I don't know what my kids will be like in twenty years. I don't know if they'll be the types of sons who will call me on the phone or give me hugs or think to pamper me on special days. I like to think that they'll be like that, but I don't know.

What I do know is that right now, in 2016, these boys of mine are the sweetest, most thoughtful, most affectionate little boys I know. And oh, I'm going to treasure it.

Strong Mothers, Strong Sons: Lessons Mothers Need to Raise Extraordinary Men by Meg Meeker, M.D.

A couple of years ago, my dad told me about a book he was reading called Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters. He liked it so much and was learning so many good things from it that he was even having monthly discussions about it with another father. It sounded fantastic, but seeing as how I'm not a father nor do I have any daughters, I didn't feel a strong pull to read it.

But then earlier this year, I saw that Dr. Meeker had just written another book called Strong Mothers, Strong Sons.

And that was something I could get behind.

This book explores it all: from babyhood to adulthood, Dr. Meeker talks about every stage and transition as well as the broader picture of what mothering sons looks like. There's a chapter about how to make your home a safe place where your son can learn how to express himself, make good choices, and live responsibly (and actually, this idea of home = mom = love permeates the entire book). Another chapter gives suggestions for how you as a mom can help him connect and form a lasting relationship with his dad. There's also a chapter about the importance of letting go and how to do it appropriately when he's a toddler, a teenager, and an adult. 

By the time I finished reading it, my book looked like this:

So to say that I found value in it would be an understatement.

I'm pretty vocal (both in real life and online) about how much I love having boys. I think part of the reason I'm so vocal about it is that, as someone who began motherhood thinking I'd like to have all girls, to this day I'm still surprised with how satisfied, happy, and absolutely content I am with all boys. (See, On Having Four Boys for more about how much I love having only sons). It's not just that they're my own flesh and blood (although that certainly helps); it's also that I find their interests and personalities so fascinating and entertaining (and so wildly different from my own).

But one thing that I've said all along is that while I love having little boys, I'm terrified for them to grow up: I feel inadequate to deal with the struggles and temptations of boys. I worry that once they hit puberty they'll stop talking to me. And okay, if I'm being totally honest, I'm jealous of the girl each one will fall in love with someday who will steal all their affection and leave me the despised mother-in-law. (Incidentally, I have no grounds for this belief since I happen to love my mother-in-law and have never felt the least resentment from her for marrying her son.)

I regret to say, this book basically confirmed all those fears, BUT it also gave me tools for how to deal with those important transitions and gave me hope that many of the painful parts of adolescence are necessary to raise a kind, successful, and confident man.

One of the things I wasn't expecting (but that was a pleasant surprise) was the religious undertone of the book. There's even a chapter called "If God Wore Lipstick, He'd Wear Your Shade," which focuses on a mother's impact and influence on her son's spirituality. While I didn't agree with all of Dr. Meeker's beliefs, I agreed with this idea that mothers need to be firm in their own testimonies so that as their sons navigate the tricky waters of belief, they'll have a rock to lean on. The following quote is one of the many that I bookmarked:

"The best way a mother can teach her son to have hope is to lead by example. When you are down and feel that the future looks dark, you can articulate to your son, regardless of his age, that you have faith that things will ultimately work out well. This is far easier if you have a religious faith. If you do, you can hold on to a belief that God is real, that He is good and that He can be trusted with your life. Faith allows you to keep hope more concrete because it helps you put your trust for your future into the hands of a more powerful being than yourself."

On a similar note, I also loved Dr. Meeker's thoughts about how having a strong core belief helps our sons (and daughters too) in those unavoidable moments when we, as parents, fail. It helps them to know that even though we might not be perfect, there is Someone who is and that even though we might make mistakes, there is Someone who won't. Even though I still have young children, I can see how helping them have confidence and trust in Someone other than myself would really empower them.

At one point, Dr. Meeker said that in those moments when we're failing and unsure of what to do, we can tell our sons that we need to pray and seek guidance from God. And then she said this: "Then ask your son to pray for you, just as you pray for him." For some reason, that was really eye-opening. I'd never thought to ask my children to pray for me during those times when I'm struggling to be patient, but I can see how this would be a really good thing, especially for my four-year-old who currently thinks I don't do anything right.

Another thing I really appreciated was the conversational tone of the book. Even though Dr. Meeker is a pediatrician and draws heavily on her experience with patients for much of the book, she is also a mom (of three daughters and one son). Of course she spoke from a professional viewpoint, but for much of the book, she just spoke as a mom . . . a mom who, just like myself, has made mistakes and worried and been afraid. I loved that she was able to write from both sides. It made the whole book much more authentic and made me trust what she had to say.

While I found all of the practical tips very helpful (and I will surely be revisiting the chapter titled, "Sex on the Brain and What My Mom Says" again and again in the the next 20 years), it was the overall message of unconditional love that really impacted me. Dr. Meeker said, ". . . our sons want to know--need to know--that if they did nothing else for the rest of their lives but sat in a closet, we would adore them."

I can't even tell you how many times I have thought about the importance of unconditional love over the last four months (the length of time it took me to read and think about and digest this entire book). It's safe to say it has changed the way that I parent.

Of course, if you'd asked me a year ago, "Should you (and do you) love your children unconditionally?" I would have said yes. Of course yes! That's an easy question in theory, but I don't think my actions fully reflected this belief. My kids are still young enough they're not even capable of making any really big mistakes yet, but I think I was still subconsciously withholding my love from them when they'd throw a tantrum or hit each other. In the last few months, that has changed. Now, even when they're having a complete meltdown at the zoo and screaming about how much they dislike me (that may or may not have happened this week), I try to still let them know (either through words or gestures or both) that I still love them.

I want them to know that they could have a dozen tantrums at the zoo and make me look like the worst mom on the planet, but that that love isn't going anywhere. It doesn't matter what they do or say, I will always, always, always love them for the simple reason that they are my sons. It doesn't mean that I won't teach them or discipline them or guide them. But if in the end, they don't heed any of my efforts, that love will still be there. It isn't tied to any action or accomplishment. It just is.

Yes, I loved this book. Yes, I hope I remember how to talk to them when they're angry or encourage them when things go badly. But if I end up forgetting all the details and only remember the importance of love, it will be enough.

Many, many thanks to Random House for a copy of this book. All opinions are entirely my own.

"It's Like You're Drowning, and Someone Hands You a Baby"

This is how Jim Gaffigan describes what it's like having four children.

Before I had four children of my own, I thought it was funny. Hilarious even.

Now I know there's nothing funny about it, but it's spot on, 100%, absolutely true.

It runs through my head multiple times a day.

Like when I'm scrambling to get lunch for three hungry kiddos. I'm rushing around, whipping out bread, slicing up fruit, wiping up milk, and then . . . Clark realizes he hasn't eaten in three hours. If he doesn't get something in him right this second, he will surely die of starvation. And he screams and cries and wails because he knows it's true.

Or like when Aaron needs help with math homework, Max needs help making his bed, and Bradley needs help in the bathroom, all at the same time. No one will be patient. No one will be satisfied unless I'm at their side right now. And then . . . Clark realizes he's the only one not receiving any attention, and he cries twice as loud as everyone else to make up for it.

Or like when Bradley is playing with a toy, and Max decides it would be great fun to tease him by stealing said toy. Bradley begins screaming and chasing Max. Then Aaron, using his six-year-old authority, decides to take control of the situation and begins bossing them both around, while joining in the chase, of course. I'm trying to separate the three of them into separate rooms . . . and then, the whole commotion wakes up Clark, and he didn't really want to wake up yet, so he wails in protest, and nothing will satisfy him until he's rocked back to sleep.

Or like when I'm finally getting some work done. I'm washing the dishes while rocking Clark's car seat with one foot. The boys are, somewhat miraculously, playing quietly together, and I'm afraid to even breathe for fear of disrupting this precarious balance. I work for a blessed half hour before I decide to check on them. I walk into the backyard where I can see they've been quite busy with dirt, sand, water, sticks, and bugs. I wish I hadn't looked . . . and then Clark realizes he's no longer being rocked and decides to make his displeasure known.

Or like when I'm trying to write a blog post, and Bradley says he needs breakfast. I get him breakfast and go back to writing. Then Aaron says he can't find the shirt he wants to wear. I find him his shirt and go back to writing. Then Maxwell needs my full attention in order to tell me all about lemon sharks. I listen and then go back to writing. . . . Then Clark wakes up for the day with a soggy diaper and a bright-eyed smile, and I decide to give up in favor of kissing his soft cheeks.

I have lots of people ask me, "So . . . how's it going with four kids?" Some of them ask this tentatively--they only have three kids but are thinking of having a fourth, and they're scared of the answer. Some of them ask it with a smirk--they have two older kids and no intention of having any more, and they seem to realize their life must look pretty good. Some of them ask it with an empathetic hug--they're the empty nesters with four or five . . . or nine children who well remember what it's like being in the trenches.

To all of them, I give the one description that seems to perfectly describe my situation:

"Well, it's like I'm drowning . . . and someone hands me a baby."

All Joy and No Fun: The Paradox of Modern Parenthood by Jennifer Senior

You've probably heard about this book. (Or if not the book, then maybe this TED talk.) It seems like every mom I know is reading it right now. And I can see why: It takes the traditional parenting book and turns it on its head. If you're not a fan of reading about all the things you should be doing to raise healthy, resilient children but instead want to read about what your children are actually doing to your health and resiliency, then this is the book for you.

In the introduction, Jennifer Senior reiterates questions first asked by sociologist Alice Rossi 45 years ago: What is the effect of parenthood on adults? How does having children affect their mothers' and fathers' lives? It's an intriguing topic, especially considering the fact that if you ask adults which activities they most enjoy, childcare ranks very low on the list, but at the same time, they "view children as one of life's crowning achievements." Senior sets out to explore why this paradox could possibly be true. She looks at the effect children have on personal lives, careers, and marriages as well as how the various stages of childhood (from newborn through adolescence) influence day-to-day emotions and decisions.

This is exactly the kind of nonfiction I love, and Jennifer Senior's style is so readable and convincing. It is a perfect melding of research, anecdotes, and personal wit. As part of her research, she sat in on a lot of parenting classes and discussions, but then she also selected a few families to personally interview and get to know more intimately. Their stories are woven seamlessly in between the facts and the studies so that it all reads like one effortless narrative, all of which is punctuated with Senior's own experiences and humor and big vocabulary. Even though I didn't agree with all of her findings, it didn't matter because it was just such a pleasure to read

There was just something so incredibly validating about this book. There were times I just stopped and thought, Yes! No one has ever put my thoughts into words before, but there they are! For example, towards the end of the book, she talked about the fear and joy that simultaneously accompany parenthood. She quoted Brené Brown who called it "foreboding joy" and gave this example: "I'm looking at my children, and they're sleeping, and I'm right on the verge of bliss, and I picture something horrible happening." I didn't realize other parents dealt with this same type of irrational fear (mostly because Mike is almost always optimistic), but I know exactly what it feels like to have my joy tainted by worries, and there was something so comforting having those thoughts verbalized.

I could definitely relate to the chapters on autonomy and marriage and toddlerhood. That has been my life for the last six years. With Aaron going into first grade this year, I am also getting my first taste in "concerted cultivation." (In fact, a mere few hours before reading this chapter, Mike and I were having an argument over whether or not I should sign up Aaron for an art class this summer. Me: He loves to draw! Shouldn't we give him the opportunity to develop this talent and see if it's something he wants to invest some time in?  Mike: He's five years old. I never took an art class when I was a kid, and I loved to draw, too.) But then I got to the chapter on adolescence, and my heart was struck with panic. A few pages in, I actually had to shut the book and say to Mike, "What have we done? We didn't think this thing through! We have four children. Four boys. And they are going to turn into four teenagers." Seriously, that chapter was . . . terrifying. In all the other chapters, Jennifer Senior uses the real names (first and last) of all her interviewees. But on the chapter about adolescents, she switches to first-name pseudonyms because "there's too much potential harm and not much point in revealing their identities, or that of their parents." Yikes.

In each chapter, Senior talks a lot about the cultural shift that has happened to parent- and childhood over the centuries. She mentions the fact that children used to be valuable, an asset to the family's welfare. Now they are, in the words of sociologist Viviana Zelizer, "economically worthless but emotionally priceless." Equally fascinating to me is the shift in roles women have experienced in their families. Senior reported on it this way:

"It was a woman in Minnesota who clarified this shift for me. She pointed out that her mother called herself a housewife. She, on the other hand, called herself a stay-at-home mom. The change in nomenclature reflects the shift in cultural emphasis: the pressures on women have gone from from keeping an immaculate house to being an irreproachable mom. And the market today, still hoping to appeal to women's professional instincts, offers the same differentiation in baby products for mothers that it offered in cleaning products for housewives sixty years ago."

Looking at parenthood from an historical point of view really added some depth and breadth to the more recent studies and experiences.

Also, even though Senior herself admits at the end that the whole book had a biased edge to it, overall, I found her account to be very well-rounded. In fact, many times she mentioned a particular study to back up an idea only to then also point out its limitations.

I hinted that I didn't agree with everything in the book. Want to know one of those things? This paragraph about one of the moms she interviewed:

"Gayle's choice was to be a stay-at-home mother. When she made her decision, it made perfect emotional sense. 'I quit working because I couldn't stand being away from my children,' she says as her girls yo-yo in and out of the kitchen. 'To be away for an hour, to go to the bank, just hurt me.' She never once thought less of her friends who continued to work and found alternative child care arrangements. It  just wasn't something she could get motivated to do herself. 'And now I think, What kind of role model was I?' she asks. 'I have three girls and I quit my job? I went to college and grad school!' She shakes her head. 'If they'd been boys, maybe that wouldn't have bothered me so much.'"

I guess I hold motherhood on a higher pedestal because it made me sad to read this. I don't hold anything against the moms who want to work, but I hate the thought that the only way we can be good role models for our daughters is if we choose to have careers. I think there's so much daughters can learn from their mothers as mothers. If they choose to have another career, great. But let's not allow outside jobs to devalue motherhood.

There's so much more I want to write about this book, but I've already been trying to finish this review for two days, and if I don't wrap it up now, it might never happen. It's been on my brain that whole time (and then some). The irony of the whole situation was not lost on me as I tried to snatch fifteen minutes here and there to write another paragraph. In chapter 1 about autonomy, Senior tells about Jessie, a stay-at-home mom who has a photography side business. Jessie struggles with the predicament of trying to get her work done while her children constantly demand her attention. This afternoon, I told my mom (who's staying with us for a few days), "I just need one hour to finish this post." I shut myself into my room. It took me about ten minutes to pick up my train of thought and get back into the groove of writing, and all three times I attempted it, by the time the ten minutes were up, I had a screaming baby or a wailing toddler, and they were always problems that could only be fixed by me. Finally, tonight, I scored a blessed chunk of uninterrupted time, but this was the fourth attempt of the day. It was so incredibly frustrating (and it's not like this is even my job!).

At the end of the book, Senior talks about the difference between our experiencing and our remembering selves. Our experiencing selves are how we experience all of the moments that make up a day. My experiencing self was feeling frustration this afternoon. I just wanted to do one thing! One! And in spite of spending the time to get everyone settled before I started, I still couldn't get it done. This is the "no fun" part of parenting. But our remembering selves focus on the big picture, the way we feel when we look back on our experiences. And when I look back at this time of my life, I'm not going to remember this afternoon when I couldn't finish a book review (except, I might since I just spent all this time writing about it). No, instead I'm going to remember what it felt like to have my four boys so little and loving and needing me. And when I think about that, all I feel is joy.

Raising a Reader: A Mother's Tale of Desperation and Delight by Jennie Nash

To say I was a little excited by the prospect of Aaron learning to read would be the vastest of understatements. Just before he turned two, I read a book called How to Teach Your Baby to Read by Glenn Doman (no, really, I'm serious). Although I didn't fully subscribe to his method, I did teach Aaron to read a big stack of sight words (much to the delight and amazement of the person sitting in the pew behind us at church). When Aaron was three-and-a-half, I just couldn't stand it any longer and began "formal" reading lessons using the book Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons.

As a mother, I don't know that there's any other single thing that has brought me more joy and filled me with more excitement than watching all three of my children develop a love of reading. (First steps? First words? So overrated.) 

I picked up Raising a Reader simply because the title caught my eye. I usually don't go for subtitles, but this one--A Mother's Tale of Desperation and Delight--described my own emotions so perfectly that I felt compelled to see what was inside.

It is a memoir of sorts: a memoir of reading. Doesn't that just sound lovely? It is broken into sixteen short chapters, each one of them focusing on a different attribute (characteristic? quality? element?) of reading. For example, in the chapter entitled "Obsession," there is a somewhat humorous and (for me) all-too-relatable story about the first time Jennie's oldest daughter tore the page of a book (out of frustration and spite). In her own words, Jennie "yelped" and drastically brought two large boxes into her daughter's room and began packing away all of her books. This story was meant to illustrate what can happen when we become a little too obsessed with our passions (although I think it made such an impression on her daughter that she never mistreated books again).
Through these different topics (abundance, delight, arrogance, togetherness, etc.), Jennie explores what reading has done for her family.

This will not be a five-star book for everyone. In fact, it probably won't be a five-star book for most people. But it definitely is a five-star book for me, for the simple reason that this is my story. Yes, I'm aware that I have three sons instead of two daughters and that I'm not a professional writer and that I do not live in California. But those things are all beside the point.

The point is, I have tried before to describe why I love reading so much and why I am so completely obsessed with guiding (a much better word than "forcing") my children to love it, but I haven't been able to find the right words. Jennie Nash found them.

When she said that their trips to the library weren't just about "getting something good to read at bedtime, it was about feeling like we were getting away with something too good to be true [my emphasis]," I knew exactly what she was talking about. (I currently have 55 items checked out from my library. That's hundreds of dollars worth of literature! You tell me that's not too good to be true.)

When she said they would bring "home fifteen, seventeen, twenty books, and pile them at the end of the girls' beds where they could, almost literally, wallow in them [my emphasis]," I looked at the state of my own bed and saw our own wallowing pile (which Mike sighs about almost every night as he's stacking up book after book to make room for himself).

When she told the story about the little girl in her daughter's class who was absolutely brilliant, and she realized that "a talent like Alexandra's [the classmate] that had obviously sprung fully formed seemed so much more pure than a talent like Carlyn's [her daughter] that had been coddled, nurtured, and maybe even tricked into fruition [my emphasis]," I recognized my own silly pride in Aaron's success with reading.

It was these examples and more that made this book cross the bridge for me from something that was just an enjoyable read to something that spoke to my soul. Her words resonated with my own ambition, passion, and interest. It's always nice to know that someone else, even if you don't know that someone else, understands exactly the way that you feel. It's even better when she can put those feelings into perfect words.

I will say that if you're looking for a book to actually help you "raise a reader," this is probably not the book you want. Although Jennie does give little tips or ideas at the end of every chapter (things like word games you can play or how much of a chance you should give a book before giving up), it is less a step-by-step guide and more just a recounting of one family's journey with books. Inspiring for sure, but maybe not very hands-on-helpful.

Also, even though it was written in 2003 (which really does not seem that long ago to me), some of it already feels dated. For example, her suggestion to keep a "What to Read" file where you can write down the names of future books you want to read. Um, ever heard of Goodreads?

If you find yourself reading this blog and thinking you and I might be kindred spirits, then chances are you will love this book, too. I think I'm just going to buy my own copy (since it's going for cheap on Amazon), so I can revisit a chapter here and there whenever I feel like it...or whenever I need a little reassurance that there are other people in this world who are as obsessed with books as I am.

A Joyful Mother of Children: The Magic and Mayhem of Motherhood by Linda J. Eyre

If you are a parent living in Utah, it's kind of an unspoken rule that you have to read something by the Eyres. You might think I'm joking, and I guess I kind of am, but I hear their names spoken and wisdom touted in virtually every type of parenting circle I find myself in. For the longest time, when their names came up, I felt like I was on the edge of the circle, with very little to contribute, because I hadn't read anything of theirs. But no more! Now I can speak my opinions with the best of them.

There are certainly more well-known books by the Eyres than this one (Teaching Your Child Joy has been on my to-read shelf for years), but it just so happened that a friend recently reviewed this one on Goodreads, it looked interesting, my library had a copy, I was almost ready for a new book, I was feeling that familiar feeling of motherhood insanity, and I thought, "Hey, I haven't read anything by the Eyres yet!", and before I knew it, I was halfway through the book.

Richard and Linda Eyre are the parents of nine children. As I already said, if you live in Utah, then you've almost certainly heard of them. But even if you live in a different state, or even a different country, chances are good you've run across their names. For years, they have spoken all around the world on the importance of strengthening the family. They have also written numerous books and made appearances on national TV.

A Joyful Mother of Children is a little bit different than some of their other books because it is specifically geared toward mothers (although, of course, much of it can be applied to both parents), and it was written by just Linda (rather than co-authored by the two of them).

Over the past five years, I've read my fair share of parenting books. The ones that are heavily anecdotal almost always begin with some sort of disclaimer, such as: "Please don't think we're perfect. Let me assure you, we are far from it!" So when I began this book, I braced myself for this kind of statement, and sure enough, there it was in the preface, right after introducing all their children: "We are truly blessed with this wonderful family. But before you draw any conclusions about a perfect family, please know that we struggle with life just like everyone else."

I don't know why this type of disclaimer irks me, but it really does. For some reason, just the fact that they're saying, "Don't worry, we're not perfect" always leads me to think, They must think they're pretty close to perfect or they wouldn't feel the need to point out how imperfect they are. They probably think they're doing their readers a favor by assuring them of how normal and flawed they are, but why do they have to tell us that? Can't they just show us?

The reason why I feel the above statement is completely unnecessary in this case is because Linda Eyre does show us: the book is full of funny, relatable, down-to-earth, heartwarming stories that show how normal and realistic her life is. And I loved all these stories: they made me laugh or grit my teeth or want to cry because in the few short years that I've been a mother, I've already had similar experiences.

My knowledge of the Eyres wasn't completely nonexistent before I read this book. I had seen them interviewed a couple of times and had a general impression of their philosophies. I could also tell that they were extremely organized.

That trait definitely came through in the book as well. In order to successfully raise nine children, you probably have to be at least a little bit organized, but the Eyres took it to a whole new level, beginning with about fifty million meetings. For starters, Linda and Richard each have personal Sunday Sessions, where they each retreat to their bedroom alone for an hour of planning time for the week. They also do a monthly Five Facet Review together where they discuss how each of their children are doing. They also do another meeting on the first Sunday of every month where they give "reports" on their responsibilities (Richard is the General Partner for things outside the home, Linda is the General Partner for things inside the home). She also gives her kids one-on-one time with Mommy Dates. And they have a monthly family meeting where the older children are invited, and they share schedules, make plans, check up on goals, etc. Plus, she describes several other meetings that happen less regularly.

So, yes, that's a lot of meetings. And that's exactly what kept going through my head as I was reading: That's a lot of meetings. But, I have to admit, I am implementing several of them (the monthly Five Facet Review, the personal Sunday Session, and the Mommy Dates). I'm especially excited about the Five Facet Review because it sounds like a fun date to me (go out to eat and talk about our kids), and I think it will help us stay on top of problems and concerns.

Another section that I really liked was the one about continually expanding your horizons. When I first became a mother, I felt like my horizons were shrinking, and I was getting dumber by the day. But since then, I have found ways to continue to push myself and learn new things, even as I am a full-time, stay-at-home mom, and I love it. One of the things she mentioned was that after we learn something new, we then have the opportunity to teach it to our children. (And as my kids have gotten older, I've found that this is actually one of my very favorite parts of mothering.) She gave some suggestions for how moms could teach their kids in various areas (art, music, dance, literature, etc.).

Her section on music particularly intrigued me because she gave several suggestions of classical works that interest children, and it was kind of a wake-up call for me: I need to expose my children to good, uplifting, cultivated music, not just catchy kids' tunes (though those have their place, too). One of the pieces on her list was Prokofiev's "Peter and the Wolf," which I actually mentioned in my post yesterday. I checked out a recording of it from the library, and Aaron and Maxwell have fallen in love with it. It gave me confidence to try out some other classical works on them as well.

I loved the title of the book, which is based on a scripture in Psalms that reads, "He maketh a barren woman to keep house, and to be a joyful mother of children. Praise ye the Lord."  I loved the emphasis on finding joy now--not after my children are well-behaved and my house is clean, but right now.

At one point when she was talking about enjoying the little (or, as the case may be, big) things, she said, "...anyone can experience those unexpected twinkles of joy that make a magical moment. At these moments, you feel true, deep joy because of a great new insight, a beautiful prospect, or a glimpse into the radiance of another soul. They are the magic moments when life seems better than you ever realized..."

Soon after reading that passage (maybe later that very same day), I had one of those moments. And because I had just read about the importance of recognizing those moments, I noticed it, and it lodged itself (I hope permanently) in my memory. It was on one of our first truly warm days of spring, and the boys were reacquainting themselves with all the things they could do outside. They had their shovels and were digging in the dirt. I was in the kitchen when all of a sudden I heard a piercing shriek. I raced outside, sure that someone had gotten hurt. But it was just Aaron racing across the lawn shouting, "I found a worm!" and Maxwell and Bradley huddling around him in an excited circle. As I looked out at them, it really did seem like a perfect, magical moment.

The more I look for them, the more I am aware that my life is literally packed with those little magical moments. Sometimes it's really hard for me to maintain that perspective when Bradley has thrown his cereal and milk across the kitchen again (which, sorry, but no matter how I look at it, I don't think that one will ever be magical--for me at least), but I really am so, so grateful that I get to spend all my days with them. Dealing with the cereal-throwing is more than a fair trade if I get to be a bystander on the worm exultations, too.