Go have kids. Right now. Go.

Last week's post had an unexpected response.  People seemed to believe I was anti-kids!  Or somehow they felt that because my kids "ruined" my career, I needed to be reassured that kids are worth it and that I didn't make a mistake.

Let me be clear: the single best four things I have ever done in my entire life are named Elijah, Isadora, Emerald and Amethyst.

There is no contest.  There is no question.  There is no doubt.

Okay there might occasionally be doubt.  Like Sunday afternoons when all the kids are cranky and whining, and fighting and crying and did I mention cranky?  Ugh.  As a parent, there are beautiful, perfect days, and there are horrible, hard days where you want to cry in your soup, big messy, unattractive tears.

Why do I love them?  Why is having children the best thing I ever did?  Why will I recommend it to absolutely every person I ever meet?  Explaining the reason children are so wonderful, so vital, so beautiful seems like a monumentally difficult task to me.  How can you reduce it to words?  I am going to try.  Please don't mock me when I fail.  It feels like trying to describe what "salty" tastes like without using the word salt, but here goes nothing.

I went to Italy last fall.  It is a beautiful country.  I'm an uncultured swine who knew next to nothing about art and who breezed through the Louvre in Paris (both times) in little more than a half day.  It's kind of embarrassing, but there it is.  When I went to France years ago, all the paintings sort of looked the same.  Before we went to Florence, I bought some books and read up on some of the paintings in an attempt to be one tiny notch above completely clueless.

I am not sure whether it worked.  I recognized some of the paintings and sculptures, but I certainly didn't fathom their majesty.  If I'm being honest, some of them freaked me the crap out.  (I am sorry but the paintings of Jesus as a baby breastfeeding, or even worse, just holding Mary's boob are strange.)  Also, the ones where key religious figures look like emaciated corpses, and the beautiful, incomparable works of some of the masters, depicting everyone naked?  I can't help it, my eye goes right to the bits we cover up in everyday society.  I am not classy.  Sorry!

Which leads me to my point.  The David.

Right about now, you are thinking, crap, Bridget, I am so embarrassed for you.  This post was supposed to be about kids, you moron.  (Maybe I got confused and mixed up my posts!)

I have a point, I really do.  Thank you for bearing with me.  

I knew nothing about how the David was housed prior to my arrival in Florence.  I bought a book, though, and read all about it the night before.  I read about how some of Michelangelo's unfinished works (the slaves) lined the walkway up to the main room where the David is housed.  I had seen photos, so many many photos.  I had seen drawings.  I knew what to expect.  I even saw a reconstruction someone made in the square--so theoretically, I had basically seen the David before I walked into that room at the Accademia.

None of it prepared me at all for seeing the David in real life.

It is vast, so so so vast.  It is beautiful.  It has gorgeous lines, majesty and nobility.  I know that I am utterly incapable of doing it justice with anything my untrained fingers might type, so I will stop there.  Any art scholar is laughing at me.  Unless they've seen it, and then I will hazard a guess that they know exactly how I feel.  

You walk past the "slaves" on your way to the David.  They are basically big chunks of stone.  Sections of them are completely unformed.  They are blank and you can imagine when anything could have been carved from them.  You can see that on some, Michelangelo began with the head and worked down.   On others, he started with an arm, or a leg, carving out the main shape, and then coming back to finish details.  I am going to toss in a few photos I took (I am not a photographer, so don't judge these photos, but I felt moved to try.)

Here is the walkway, a few chunks of stone in.  Pardon Whit's silly pose, but you can see the David (really tiny) behind him. In this first slave, you can see that the head is completely unformed.  But the leg and most of the body are rough hewn.

Similar here, you can see the slave emerging from the rock.  The back side is completely untouched.

 This guy has a leg, an arm, and his stomach.  The rest is not shaped yet.

 And now, here are the photos you have been waiting for!! My exceedingly amateurish efforts to capture what I felt when I saw this work of art.  It was so far above my head, both figuratively and literally, that I can't express what I felt.

 But you can see in this the detail, of the sling over his back, of the veins in his hand.  The hairs on his head.  This was lovingly depicted in every way.

This, my friends, this experience I had at the Accademia, this is what having children is like, it is a walk down the hall from the unformed blocks of stone to the awe inspiring, indescribable masterpiece that no one can fully understand.  Only, instead of walking, we are preparing them, we are carving them, shaping them, helping them emerge from the stone that is surrounding them.  They are born as these little smooshy lumps that cry and can't do anything.  They require constant care, and slowly, but surely, they grow, they emerge, they develop.  

Our children are just like those vast blocks of stone, but every single one of my children is becoming something more beautiful, more indescribable than the David.  Part of this, bear with me, is going to feel religious, or spiritual, but I think that's inextricably linked for me, with being a parent.  Being a parent is what makes me understand God just a little more.  We are His children and He loves us (I believe) and I can comprehend that a little more after having my own.  We have the task of helping them emerge from that block of rock to become the masterpiece God intended.  

Being a parent is a front row seat to a miracle.    

My little angels ask me things every single day that leave me to marvel.  They grow up in leaps and spurts, staying the same for days, lulling me into a false sense of safety, that they might be mine forever.  And then I turn around and they've grown a year in the space of one day.  It breaks my heart and at the same time fills it to bursting.  To see them becoming that perfect creation I know is inside, and to watch them moving to where they will no longer need me is the juxtaposition of all that I love and all that I fear.  Joy and sorrow and a sense of wonder I cannot describe.  

Let me be crystal clear on this:  I still believe a child will wreck everything in your life.  My grandfather always said, "You can have nice things, or you can have a kid.  You can't have both."  He is correct.  They will wreck your body during pregnancy and after.  They will wreck your checking account, your schedule, your career and in short, your entire life.  And you will be so sick and tired of the whining, the crying and the frustration you will want to scream.  No scratch that, you will scream.  

Because carving stone is hard work, and it's messy.  

Just as my photos, my book, my study did not prepare me for seeing the David, nothing you do, no blogs you read, no advice you receive will prepare you for becoming a parent.  Some days you will want to quit.  You will want to throw away those carving tools, and throw away the industrial sized broom and dustpan you need to clean up the mess and walk away and never come back.  But then, oh then, you will return.  You will never give up because you know that eventually, on one terrifying, miracle filled day, you can stand back and see what you had a hand in creating.  You will never, ever, ever be the same, and you will not regret the time, the pain, the difficulty and the horror of the carving.  You will only ever regret missing out, or not being there to see it happen and to lend a hand.  

My kids ruined my career--if you have any, they will probably ruin yours too.

I was awesome in high school.  No, really.  I was on swim team, and I debated, and I did theater.  I was in National Honor Society and Spanish club and a bunch of other dumb things like that.  I was quite successful.  Then I went to college, for free, because of the aforementioned high school awesomeness.  When I graduated from BYU for undergraduate (the real BYU, the one in Provo*...) I did it in two years flat and I had amazing grades, again.  I worked practically full time between my three jobs and I took a heavy load. Because, as I mentioned, I was awesome.

In fact, I was the youngest graduate from BYU.  (Not ever, but when I graduated).

Then I went to law school right away, and when I finished law school at the real UT (you know, the one in Austin**...) I took the bar exam in Texas and I was the youngest lawyer to pass it.  In fact, the next year, I was still the youngest lawyer, because I graduated from BYU at 19 and law school at 22.  See?  Awesome.

I got a job at a cool, boutique healthcare firm in Austin, Texas where I rocked it.  It was hard at first, and it was hard in the middle and it was hard in the end, but I did great.  I made a LOOOOOOOT of money and I drove a nice car and my career was right on track.  In fact, they had begun to tell me I was right where I needed to be to make partner.  Good news.  Five years of awesome work, following five years of awesome post high-school education.  (Really seven years, but I did it in five...because I was awesome, right?)

That whole time, you know what I was thinking?  Gosh, wouldn't it be nice if I didn't have to get up every single day and go to this sucky job where I have to think and think and think and get better and better and better and where they pay me to do things I wouldn't otherwise want to do on my own??? (Because folks, that's why they call it work.  You wouldn't normally want to do it...which is why they pay you.)  But honestly, when I got married, I began to think, geez, it would be awesome if I could have a baby and then another and I could just stay home with them.  Every morning when I drug myself out of bed, I would think, "Oh one day, I will have a baby and be a stay at home mom."  I had this bizarre notion that somehow I would get more sleep.  HA!! (I haven't slept in since 2007, because even on "no kids" vacations, my brain is so broken, I can't sleep past 6:45.)

But finally, after all that longing and wishing and waiting, I did it.  I had a baby and I quit my job to move out to Pennsylvania with my husband (who had just matched to Hershey, PA for residency) and I was totally alone out there, with my big fat baby boy.  He was a craaaanky pants, too.  And guess what?

I hated it.

Also, I have no earthly idea why I thought it would be better to have to take care of a baby than to get up every single morning to go to work.  At least when you're working, you get weekends.  And someone pays you.  And you occasionally look nice, and someone occasionally tells you you're doing  a good job, or you know, at least doesn't cry at you.

I am not making a joke and I am not being cute when I say--I hated being a stay at home mom.  I hated it so badly that when they assessed a condo fee and we absolutely needed the money, I immediately began hunting for a part time job.  I needed to use my brain!! 

Sadly, I wasn't licensed in PA and I hadn't spent the last nine months working on getting licensed so the only job I could find paid nothing.  The pay was crap, and the work wasn't much better.  Even so, I dropped my fat baby off for someone else to watch at least once a week and went to do the work for which I made only slightly more than I was paying for childcare and I SMILED while I did it.

A year or so later, I found this AMAAAAZING part time job that paid a little better and the work was good and the people were super nice.  I hummed along there until BAM we had to move again.  I had this bizarre blip on the Bridget career path then called "Oregon: Where Bridget actually made a living wage in a one year period, mostly by accident."  That is because I kept my old part time job from PA, and I got a new one in Oregon, and I did side work for people in Oregon under my shiny, new, Oregon law license, which was promptly and expeditiously obtained.

At this point, we needed the money because of moving and kids and blah blah blah, and that made me try harder.  Then we moved to Texas and by then, I had three kids.  I got pregnant with the fourth somewhere along the way and man that fourth really knocked me out.  I stopped taking part time work from PA.  I stopped doing much of any work at all!  I never found another part time job.  I have kept up my skills--I do wills, estate work, tax work, and contract reviews for family and friends, and there is more of that kind of work than you might think, but still, for the first time, I have had no real "job" in years.

Part of that is not the fault of my kids.  I will give credit where it's due.  I have always wanted to be a novelist and I started writing in earnest around the time my last baby was born.  I have spent a lot of my free time writing novels, none of which have been sold (published) yet.  I have found that I have a very hard time writing with kids around, too!  So to sum up, I went from AWESOME to LAME in the course of a seven year period, and honestly, it's because I have four children.  FOUR! CHILDREN! What was I thinking??

A little part of me cries inside when I think about my decimated career.  I try to carve out time, even now, to write.  I had a babysitter lined up today, but then one of my two girls at home got sick and shabam, kids are home with me.  I keep thinking it will get better.  They will all be in school soon, and then I will have more time.

I'm probably lying to myself.

I may homeschool, if it ends up being better for the kids.  I will certainly be involved in their education.  There's homework and projects and meetings and, of course, summer and holidays.  Eeeep!  What was I thinking?

All of this makes me sad about what I could have become and didn't.

But it also makes me better.  I am a better person for having my children.

I do more with the time I have, I appreciate the opportunity to work now, which I took for granted before, but most of all, I have turned myself inside out.  Every single thing I do (almost) is for another person.  I am harder working, more selfless and more complete now than I was before.  I don't mean to be patronizing to people who have no children, but it changes you, completely, down to the tiny midget toe on my left foot.

Isn't it funny how these tiny little people can turn everything upside down?  It is hard, and it is depressing sometimes, but after a while, you realize, maybe things look better this way.  Maybe your life is better upside down than it used to be when things were in place.

So yes, my kids decimated my career.  They razed it to the ground.  I used to be amazing and now I am an unimpressive, unaccomplished mom.  I am sad about it.

But my joy in my children, and in the person they have transformed me into, far surpasses any sadness I feel about the destruction of my work path.  If you are on the fence about having kids, I will only say: Do.It.

You will regret it!! You will struggle!!  It will be the hardest thing you've ever done.

But it will be worth it times ten over, I swear.

* I am kidding.  Calm down.
** I am not kidding.  University of Texas campuses outside of Austin suck.***
*** Still kidding.  Geez people.

Why I think GROSS guys are divine

There have been few times in my life that I have felt as unattractive as the times I was pregnant.  I gain a lot of weight (around 65 pounds with each pregnancy!) and I feel icky and I don't work out and I break out.

It's bad.

During each of those times, my husband told me over and over that I was beautiful.  He was very good about always making sure I knew he loved me and that I was not disgusting.  I didn't always believe him, but it was sweet that he tried.

My husband is not gross at all.  Not in any way.  (Okay he does get really sweaty when he works out, but I am going to give him a pass on that.)  I absolutely adore my husband.  And it's okay that I like GROSS guys, too.

I will never forget the first gross guy I really appreciated.  I was about five and a half months pregnant with Dora.  (My second child) and if you ever knew me pregnant, you would know that I carry strange and lots of people still ask me during my fifth month whether I am pregnant.  I am convinced it's because I gain so much weight, that I just look fat, not pregnant!  But in any case, I was standing in front of the magazine aisle at Wal-Mart looking for a car magazine, or a woodworking magazine for my husband as a small surprise.  (We were on a tight budget!)  This gross guy walked up and started chatting with me.  At first, I thought, "This is weird.  Why is this guy spending so much time talking to me?"

Then it dawned on me: he was hitting on me!

I immediately blurted out, "I am happily married!"  I spared him the embarrassment of pointing out that I was also pregnant.  But when I left Wal-Mart, I had a smile on my face.  I might have gained lots of weight.  I might have been wearing my big old baggy, ratty CAMOUFLAGE maternity pants and a huge t-shirt.  My hair and makeup might not have been done, but this guy thought I was attractive enough to hit on me.

In the years since my Wal-Mart encounter, I have had gas station attendants (frequently for some reason!), grocery store checkers, and lots of random strangers tell me I am lovely or ask me if I'd like to go out with them.  I am never, ever interested, but I am almost always flattered.  I assume most women will chime in here and tell me it's awful that I feel this way, but if I'm being honest, I like it when the guys with no chance give it a try.  It helps to know that even if I am already committed for life to the best guy in the world, someone who isn't obligated to say so thinks I look nice. :-)

(Caveat: I do not appreciate, nor do I approve of any lewd behavior or language.  I am talking about guys who are just trying to get some attention in a non-disgusting, derogatory or threatening way).

When is the last time someone gross made your day?

Exercise Guilt: Fat or Flat?

I have heard women say they have guilt about NOT working out.  I am the opposite.  My guilt is about (possibly) working out too much.

And let's be clear here: I have a lot of guilt over parenting.

I'm not a crafty mom.  I don't do decorations very well for parties and such.  I yell too much.  I literally count the minutes down the last fifteen minutes before bedtime and I get exponentially more grumpy after bed.  Every little ding bugs me more and more.  I let my kids eat junk too much and I don't make dinner enough.  I don't do family home evening as often as I should.  I spend too much time on myself.  I don't make it up to do lunch with my two school aged kids nearly as often as I should and I have never been a "room mom"!

I know a lot of other parents have guilt, too.  One of the things I have felt worse and worse about is that I work out almost every morning.  I have two daughters who are still at home.  (A three year old and a two year old.)  I work out almost every morning and I feel selfish because that hour and a half (workout and shower time) is time I could be spending to be crafty mom, or nutritious mom, or teachy-mom, and on and on.

I worked out like a nut when I was single.  I worked out with Whitney (husband) when we first got married.  After I had Eli, and Whit was in residency, we didn't feel good about putting him in the gym care so I worked out only when Whit was home--so not often.  I did it as much as I could after Dora, too, but it wasn't a lot.  Once Whit finished with residency, and we moved to Texas, we got a home gym and I began working out while my baby napped.

Once I had baby four, I would let baby three stay up and watch a TV show while I worked out during baby four's nap time.  About six months ago, I started letting both stay awake while I work out.  Because baby four (my now two year old-Amethyst) doesn't like to watch TV much, we have a play doh table the girls play on every single day, and my baby Tessa puts on gloves and pretends to work out with me a lot, too.
























I understand there are some benefits for my kids that I work out.  I am in good shape and can stay active with them.  I teach them the importance of physical fitness by my example.  I am happier and in a better mood when I have worked out.  But of course, there's a flip side to that.  I get grumpier when I miss my workout, too, and sometimes snappy when they interrupt me too much, which they do a lot!

I guess my question is whether I am justified in working out almost every day.  Or should I scale it back to less?  You wise, experienced moms out there, do you look back and wish you hadn't worked out as often?  That you'd spent more time on healthy meals, prepared more crafts projects, taught them more?  Instead of spending as much time on yourself?  Or do you wish you'd spent more time working out and less on other things??  I am very aware of how fast the little ones grow up.  I see them just getting bigger every second and I think that is what started this entire line of thought.  When they were all tiny, I carved out time when I could because I was just in survival mode.

This week I have no wisdom to share.  Only this question for you moms on the other side (and for those here with me, too): if you could go back, would you spend less time in the gym and more time with them?