When Latter-Day Saints hear the phrase “anxiously engaged”, many people think about doing good works. Or how it would make an excellent title for a Nicholas Sparks movie about a Mormon couple, who have to endure the stresses and trials of a lengthy five week engagement.

This summer, the phrase took on new meaning for me when I experienced my first panic attack, and I soon became “anxiously engaged” in a different way, worrying about situations and events that never would have made me anxious or fearful before.

For instance,

* What if I meet The Hoff and he professes his deep, unadulterated love for me?
* What if my branch finds out I don’t scrapbook or have a Costco membership? Will I be shunned?
* What if someone pokes me on Facebook? Can I get cooties?

Along with those very logical and rational worries, came a fear of being in situations where I would feel trapped. This really shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me. My family has a long history of anxiety, including a grandfather with extreme claustrophobia. Anxiety usually creeps up for women in their late 20’s-early 30’s (even though I am clearly only 21), and it usually only happens to extremely hot and attractive women, so I was like a human Petri dish for anxiety and worry.

Being a social worker for the past 10 years (yes, they let 11 year-olds work for DCFS!), I am probably better equipped to deal with a mental health crisis than your average person. I know that anxiety disorders are extremely treatable with counseling and/or medication, and I don’t feel any of the stigma that often comes along with seeking treatment. Although, I will say I look stunning in the dark sunglasses, wig, and large overcoat I wear while walking into my therapist’s office.

Being a lifelong member of the LDS church, I have also heard some of the well-meaning advice that church members sometime give:

* “You probably need to pray and read your scriptures more.”
* “You aren’t going to the temple enough.”
* “I think it’s all in your head and just a trick of Satan.”
* “You just need to talk to your bishop and everything will be fine.”
* “You need to add more green Jell-o to your diet!”

I have yet to encounter someone who would say these things about cancer or a broken leg, but when it comes to a broken heart or mind, many people seem to think these things can easily be fixed by a prayer or an episode of fasting.

While I have sought much help and guidance from the Lord and my Father in Heaven, including receiving a blessing from my husband, which helped me tremendously, I have also sought help and guidance from a professional who has been able to give me earthly tools and coping mechanisms. I am also appreciative of the fact that I belong to a church that understands that we may need a little extra help from therapists and mental health counselors, and has provided a treatment option in the way of LDS Family Services.

I have chosen not to take prescription medication.

I haven’t had a panic attack in over six months, and while I still feel anxious in some situations, I now feel better equipped to deal with my anxiety. I also have my own Stuart Smalley “Daily Affirmation” of, “I’m a smart, confident woman who has worn a Snuggie in public, on numerous occasions. I can conquer my fear.” And now, I can go back to being anxiously engaged in a good cause. Gosselin kids, here I come!

---


Kristina lives in Utah with her husband and her well traveled Snuggie. Kristina is a full-time social worker, bringing joy, rainbows, and metaphorical unicorns to all the people she works with, on a daily basis. In her spare time, she can be found reading blogs, knitting blankets for disadvantaged hairless animals, shunning Twilight, and wearing high heels while vacuuming. Kristina's dream job is to write for Conan O'Brien, or to move to Alaska and work on an oil rig. She'll take whichever one gives her squeezy cheese for lunch. She blogs at Pulsipher Predilections.


Photo by twnklmoon

When I was a teenager, I had a typical bout of teenage rebellion. I refused to have anything to do with the church. I felt it was too restrictive, and I wanted my freedom. After all, I thought, we’d been given our agency so we could use it, right? So I chose to distance myself from church.

I met my husband during those years. He was not a member of the church, and that was fine with me. One less person trying to get me to go back, I thought.

But things change. Heavenly Father did not forget about me. He sent his angels to administer to me, and let me know He still loved me. They came in the form of friends, family, ward members, and even complete strangers. But they did come. And I finally got the message.

Three years after I got married, I decided to go back to church. My husband was supportive, and did not hold me back. At first, it was really hard to go alone. I felt like an outsider. I felt like everyone was watching me. But I knew that I was where I was supposed to be.

I hit the ground running, and didn’t look back. I received callings, and did my best to magnify them. I developed friendships with the women in the ward. I went through the temple. My family and friends were there to support me, but I still felt alone. I wanted my husband with me. I wanted us to be doing it together. How could I have known, when I married him that I would be faced with this desire?

When I had been married for six years, I asked my husband to learn more about my church, and my beliefs. I volunteered to feed the missionaries when the sign-up came around in Relief Society. That night, after dinner, they left a short message, and then asked if they could return another time. He agreed.

My heart leaped. I thought my wait was finally over. I had felt the Spirit in our home while the missionaries spoke, and I was sure he had too. After a few more visits by the missionaries, he made no progress. He acknowledged that he had felt good about what they were teaching, but he wasn’t ready for the next step. He told them he was not ready to be baptized. My heart sank.

He had begun coming with me to Sacrament Meeting while he was taking the missionary discussions, and continued to do so. He didn’t come every week, but still, I was encouraged by his attendance. Every time a speaker would say something that I thought would touch him, and convince him of the truthfulness of the gospel, I was left disappointed.

That first meeting with the missionaries was four years ago. I’ve been on a roller coaster of emotion during that time. Sometimes I feel at peace, and I am able to put my trust in Heavenly Father’s plan. But sometimes I just want to tear my hair out, stomp my feet, and scream, then cry and beg that he will make the decision to be baptized.

I don’t want him to just do it to make me happy. I want it to be something that he does for himself. But the waiting is hard.

A few weeks ago, a mutual friend of ours talked to him about getting baptized. He told me that my husband acknowledged that he would get baptized, someday. Just not yet. He needed more time.

The friend was encouraged by his answer. He saw it as a good sign. I was torn. Forty percent of me was so excited to know that someday he will be baptized, and that our family will be sealed in the temple. But the other sixty percent of me was frustrated, and even a little angry.

That sixty percent of me was thinking, “If you know it’s true, then why wait? Why continue to put me through this? Why push back the day that our family will be able to go to the temple?”

I know that I am being selfish. I know that I should be one-hundred percent happy with his admitting that he will be baptized someday. But it’s so much easier to know how I should feel, than it is to actually feel that way.

Someday, he will decide it’s time. Someday, he’ll take me to the temple, along with our children, and we will be sealed together for eternity. Someday, I will look back on this part of my life and not remember it being this hard. Someday… Until then, I just try to let my faith carry me.

--

guest post by Kim of Sometimes Hard, But Oh-So Worth It

Yesterday my Mom watched my girls while I got away for 4 hours to this little-known spa.

I walked in and was directed to the dressing room, where I was given a locker in which to leave my personal belongings. Then I slipped into something more comfortable. The over-sized and stained white coverall, hair net, shoe booties, and stretchy blue plastic gloves were exactly what I was hoping for.

Next, a nice older gentleman led me to a large room where he doled out ear plugs...such a thoughtful gesture for those who enjoy a quiet spa experience. After that another man directed me to the station where I spent the next 3.5 hours receiving hot, turkey-infused steam blown onto my face. This was the facial. And although they didn't offer massages, by the end of my appointment, my muscles felt as though 2 or 3 small Asian women had walked on my back.

The best part was that this spa day was FREE.

All that they ask is that you stuff raw, stringy, turkey chunks into small cans at an "I Love Lucy" outlandish pace.

And while I was a tad disappointed by my facial results, (the smell was a bit distracting), my soul felt totally polished for having participated in serving others to such a degree.

---
Guest Post by Jayna of The Haws Family

As I was doing my hair this morning, I was thinking about the day ahead and my mind flashed to the last few days as well.

I have a rock. My kids call it my special rock. I found it in a river up in the mountains when we were on vacation a couple of summers ago. It doesn't look like much now, but in the water, clear, cool, and sparkling, it seemed to have a glow about it, a lovely green inner fire that compelled me to touch it, handle it, take it home with me.

I was convinced I had found a fist-sized emerald, raw and uncut, but fraught with potential -- for purity, for beauty, for a nice fat ring on my finger.

The rock sits on my kitchen windowsill where I see it every day. As I wash dishes and stare out the window, I think about that rock. My emerald. We have a little gem & mineral museum downtown. Gemstones are actually more common around here than you'd think, so it's not all that far-fetched for me to imagine great value in my find. Every time I drive past the museum, I think I should take my rock in to have it identified, once and for all.

But I never do it. When I can only imagine the possibilities, when its true identity is still shadowed by the mystery of conjecture, it seems more valuable to me. It might be just a rock, but as long as I don't know for sure, it might also be something extraordinary.

This got me thinking about rocks in general. Is anything just a rock? Time out for some science. I promise to go easy on you.

Rocks come in three basic types: sedimentary, metamorphic, igneous. Sedimentary rocks are formed as particles of sediment are deposited and then subjected to pressure intense enough to bring about "lithification", or rock formation. I really like that word. Sedimentary rocks have layers: think the stripes on the top of Mt. Timpanogos, the painted sandstone of Antelope Canyon, the tortured shale striations visible on the exposed rock faces of my own Appalachian mountains.

Igneous rocks are what's left over after a volcanic eruption: magma cools and solidifies, leaving us with such useful stones as obsidian, basalt, pumice, granite and tufa (out of which the ancient Etruscans carved the city of Orvieto in Italy, one of my most favorite places on the planet). Though they all vary vastly in density and mineral composition, all of these rocks have one thing in common: An explosion had to happen in order for them to happen.

Metamorphic rocks -- now these are magical. Metamorphic rocks are formed when an existing rock is changed. The metamorphosis can happen when any rock -- sedimentary, igneous, or an older metamorphic -- is subjected to extreme heat and pressure. More extreme than a volcano, which forms the igneous rocks in the first place. More extreme than years and years and years of sedimentation, which forms the sedimentary rocks. Metamorphosis gives us marble and slate, diamonds and gemstones.

We all have parts of us that have been formed by layer upon layer of sensory intake, external stimuli, and our own introspective processing of those experiences. And then we undergo something big, something explosive, something igneous, and an entirely new type of person emerges, sometimes hard and piercing, like the obsidian used anciently to make spear and arrow heads, sometimes soft and porous like the pumice we use to smooth and erode rough patches.

I'm hoping for some metamorphosis. Take my sedimentation, my sharp obsidian, my flinty shale, my pumice that won't hold water, and turn it into marble, to slate, to diamonds. To emeralds.

Rocks and stones are many in number, just like souls. But common, ordinary? Never. Not them, and not us, either.

---
InkMom is a musician, writer, and midnight bookkeeper for her husband's business. She revels in the beauty of their Western North Carolina home and sincerely hopes heaven closely resembles the Blue Ridge Mountains. While she and her husband live out a great love story, they raise three crazy boys (4, 4 and 3) and one blessed brand new baby girl. To find out more about InkMom, visit her personal blog, I'm (not) Crazy Mommy.






photo credit: internetstones.com, gachala emerald

Once upon a time, there were loads of dragons in the life of The Damsel in Dis Dress. Along came The Knight in Shining Armor. He promptly rescued her, plopped her down in a cottage by the mountains, gave her seven babies to make them joyous, and they proceeded to live happily ever after.

But don’t get the impression that the Damsel thinks women are nothing but rescue-needing objects. She’s had wonderful, strong women in her life, especially her mom and grandmother. She literally sat at her grandmother’s feet and listened to stories of the old days: how people used to live—gardening, preserving, sewing, baking, mending, and relying on oneself.

Don’t think the dragons stayed away. The Damsel finds herself distressed on a daily basis. Sometimes the Knight rescues her, because he can’t help himself, and sometimes the Damsel has to get tough.

Grandma (Grandma being a metaphor for all the great women in her life) taught her how to rely on herself, but even more importantly to rely on God. The arm of flesh is weak and sometimes flabby.

On a cold, miserable day last week, the sky was gray as yesterday’s oatmeal. The Damsel got in an airplane, and after the typical gut-clenching lurch upwards, found herself surrounded by brilliant blue. The layer of murk ended up being much thinner than it seemed.

If Grandma were here, she’d remind the Damsel that the gray might seem smothering-thick, but to God it’s a bit of fluff, designed to make her strong. He’s waiting to hold her up in the sky, take her hand, and together part the clouds.

--

Margot is a mom of seven and pretty much crazy from it. Online she's known as the Damsel in Dis Dress and blogs at the Old School (www.mynewoldschool.com) and twitters at elle_cosette.

Tuesday, January 21

As soon as Eli topped 12 lbs. I got sad thinking about how fast he was growing up. I just love him so much and I realized that I really wanted to have another baby.

However, I had vowed to never, ever do IVF again. It is not a very pleasant experience; one that is best to be forgotten quickly. Rinar and I seriously considered adoption and the sooner the better. I mean, we have already done the twin thing, so it really didn't matter if Eli was a baby. I prayed a lot about it and went to the temple seeking the answer I was hoping for. You know, you write a check...wait...and there is a little bundle of joy waiting for you a few months later. Hence, no needles, pills, blood draws and copious doctor's appointments.

But, adoption was definitely not the answer for us...at least not now. I don't know why, but it has just never felt right. Yet, I just knew I wanted another baby. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't possibly do IVF again. The thought just makes me want to throw up. Yet, when I gave in to the will of my Heavenly Father, that was definitely the route He wanted me to take.



I have done all of the preliminary tests as of today. Dr. D. said that we will start treatments this Sunday, January 25, 2009. I want to do it as quickly as possible. I don't want to have to think about it. I just want the list of things I have to do, and I am just going to do it. I think it is called blind faith. I cannot say for certain if I will get pregnant. But I know it is the course I should take; of that I am absolutely positive.

Wednesday, January 22

It was a rough day today. I had another appointment where they did a trial transplant. This is where they measure my uterus and pick the location where they will implant an embryo. Since having a baby, my uterus is a little bit bigger than before. When he did the procedure, he had a hard time doing whatever it was they were doing, and so the nurse had to get a different instrument. I don't remember what they called it but it looked like a pair of scissors the size of my forearm. Plus, it is never a good sign when the doctor tells you, "This is going to pinch a little." Wincing usually follows, and it did.

As I was getting ready to leave, Dr. D. ordered another blood test because my progesterone levels were too high. I always thought they were too low. Usually, a blood draw is not a big deal. Right now, it is fine. However, when you get one every other day for approximately a month, it starts to get on your nerves a bit. I am wondering if I should be a little bit worried that I have had to get several extra blood draws already.


In the afternoon the nurse called me back and gave me the super-great news that I would need to start taking Ganirelix. No, it is not a pill...it is one of those lovely shots I have not been looking forward to getting. And since I do not have my meds yet (they come tomorrow), I had to drive back over to Summerlin to get the stuff I needed. It only takes about 1 hour to get there and back. Since I didn't have anything better to do today, I was thrilled at the new task that was laid before me. (NOT!)

Melanie gave me my shot. I am too much of a chicken to do it to myself. Surprisingly enough, it didn't hurt at all. That is probably because there is plenty of fat down there to pad any stick I may incur. But afterwards, the skin did feel a bit irritated.

Another shot awaits me tomorrow. It is like the hors d'oeuvres before the main course.


These are all of the medications that I will be using for this process. If things go well, I will probably have to get additional stuff. $$$$ Now you can see what it takes to make a baby when you can't do it yourself.

Saturday, January 24

I went this morning to get a blood draw and to have an ultrasound. Ultrasounds for IVF treatment are done vaginally, so it gets really old quickly; one down and about 10 more to go.

The blood draw was pretty miserable. They took 2 vials worth today. I really did not enjoy it very much. Of course, when does one ever enjoy blood draws?

Sunday, January 25

**Note to self: when getting an injection, make sure to put the saline in the powdered medication (menopur) and THEN into me... and don't just inject saline. It is a waste of a good injection.

Tuesday, January 27

I went to Lindsay's house to get my injections. Rinar is out of town. She did a great job, but it still hurt quite a lot. I already have a bruise on my thigh.

Thursday, January 29

Another day, another round of shots. I get to have all the fun around here. Every day the pain level seems to rise a little bit. Rinar gave me my shot today. He seems to do the best at it. But no matter how good someone might be, it is still going to hurt. I just have to keep reminding myself that I ran a marathon...this is nothing.

Friday, January 30

3 shots...I am now up to three shots: Menopur, Follistim, and Ganirelix (again). I have decided that I really don't like that darn Ganirelix shot. It is not very accomodating to my body.

When I woke up this morning and got Eli out of bed, I realized that my ovaries are kicking it into overdrive. They are starting to get swollen as they hit hyper-drive mode. I am going to have to break out the sweatpants soon. Those will be the only kinds of bottoms I will be able to put on in about a week or so.

Tuesday, February 3

Things are starting to shape up. I found out yesterday that I get to take an additional shot of Ganirelix. Yeah for me! Rinar gave it to me this morning while I was lying in my bed, half asleep. Every round of shots seems to hurt a little bit more than the last round. And since I didn't have enough shots with my initial box of medications, I had to drive to Summerlin to get two more vials. It only takes about an hour to get there and back. Its a good thing I don't have anything better to do, right? Plus, my insurance didn't cover the two extra vials, so I had the added bonus of paying the pharmacy $179. But don't worry, they gave me a discount.

I am glad that tomorrow will be my last round of what I like to call "the juicers". These are the shots that juice me up and make all them pretty little eggs that the doctor is going to take out of my body on Friday.

Yes, I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. Dr. D. is 99% sure that Friday will be the day of my little operation. I will find out exactly the time tomorrow when they are going to get it all going. But for now I can take comfort in the fact that I still have to do 4 shots per day.

Wednesday, February 4

I got word today that I had to get "the shot" tonight at 11pm. This shot is what triggers ovulation. I had Melanie come over and we had a little shot party. I made some Tollhouse cookies and we got everything ready and then waited for 11pm. Of course, while we were waiting we chowed down on cookies. It is good that she was willing to come, because Rinar is still out of town. He won't be back until tomorrow.






Clock, heating pad, cookies, milk, and two syringes. Good times!

Waiting for 11pm.

Tick tock, tick tock...

Since my butt hurts, the heat definitely helps and I do not have the ability to give myself a shot. I am too much of a wimp.

Thursday, February 5

Pre-op today: CHECK!

I am ready to go tomorrow. Get those eggs out of me!

Friday, February 6

19 eggs! That was the total count extracted. Rinar and I got there 30 minutes early. Then they called me back, prepped me with a gown and an IV, and I was soon in the operating room. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the recovery area. I got a little bit of a nap and then Melanie came and picked me up. Rinar had to get back to work. Since I had been fasting from the previous night, I decided to treat us both to some Cafe Rio. It was delicious. Then I came home and took a long nap.


These pictures are the various views from my chair. Fascinating, huh?

I feel pretty beat up, but not too bad. I hope that tomorrow I will be on my feet again, doing stuff around the house.

Saturday, February 7

Dr. Danishmand called today to tell me that 12 eggs fertilized and have made it to the next stage.

Sunday, February 8

I had to get my blood drawn early this morning. Later on, they called to tell me to start taking Progesterone oil. This comes in a shot. The stuff is nice and thick, so it takes a while to get it all in there. I also have started Estrace, 6 tabs per day.

Monday, February 9

I am definitely more cranky today. I must be taking hormones, or something! The latest update from the doc: 4 eggs have continued to divide cells and are on track, 3 are a little behind, and 3 are even more behind. I don't know all of the fancy scientific names for these stages. You can look it up on wikepedia.

Everything is on track for a Wednesday transfer. I am making babysitting arrangements. They can get cancelled, as things can change quickly.

Tuesday, February 10

No change today, except I need to get my house clean.

Also, my backside is starting to host a constant soreness. Last time, I seem to remember the feeling lasting for several months after all injections had ceased.

Wednesday, February 11

My kids were all farmed out, my visiting teacher gave me a ride, and I was on my way to the Fertility Center. Today was the day and I found out that after 19 eggs, we were able to make two good-looking embryos.

Now it is time for 3 days of bed rest.

Thursday, February 12

Just slowly rotting in my recliner...

Melanie has been my fabulous little slave. She puts together the most wonderful, well-balanced meals for me. It doesn't hurt that she is a dietitian.

Tuesday, February 17

Well, medication is in full swing and I am definitely feeling the effects. Let me give you a run-down of the rather lengthy list:

2 Progesterone pills, 4 times a day
2 Estrace pills, 3 times a day
4 patches of Vivelle dots (estrogen), changed every 3 days
2 Progesterone suppositories, twice a day
1 cc of Progesterone oil in the evening (shot)

With all of these hormones getting pumped into my body in various ways, I get hit with huge waves of exhaustion and sleepiness. It is like I am that sleepy dwarf in Snow White. In essence, I daily enter the "4th dimension". All I want to do right now is go to bed. I don't have the luxury because I have three little boys that need me.

I will take a blood test on Saturday morning. This is THE blood test. All will be known by the afternoon. It is something for us to look forward to and I know that a lot of people are waiting to know the results, all of my helpers that have been there for me as I have endured this process.

Friday, February 20

I feel paralyzed by exhaustion right now. The progesterone is killing me. If I try to bend over and pick something up, I swoon. I really want to clean my house, but I just can't. Oh, a nap would be heaven, but who has time for that?

One more day, 24 hours...and then we will know.

Saturday, February 21

I got my blood test this morning. I made it just in time. Then I killed sometime before I went home. I got a McDonald's breakfast and looked around the pet store. I was able to get an aquarium book I had been eyeing on Amazon for the past month. I also looked around at Ross but there was nothing appealing to me.

I figured the longer it took me to get home, the shorter wait it would be to get the call from Dr. Daneshmand.

Sure enough, the phone rang at 1pm. I got tired of waiting and decided to take a shower. When I just walked into the bathroom, I heard the phone ring.

Rinar answered. It was Dr. D. calling with the good news. I am pregnant. I smiled and did a little fist pump. Then he told Rinar that I did not have to do the progesterone shot anymore. With that news, I started jumping up and down with glee. Only a fellow IVF patient can fully understand that reaction, right?

Heavenly.
Recently, I met a lovely, enlightened woman,
who described her dinner table as
"sacred".
That really struck my heart.
It's true.
Of all of the furniture in my home,
it is the dinner table
that has become consecrated
to the building up of our
Family.

All the work my husband does
to provide for us
so I can prepare and serve
meals to my family
has a grander meaning
when I see this table with
eternal eyes.

It may be dotted with
strawberry jam,
maple syrup,
bits of salt and pepper,
bread crumbs and cheerios--
But that food is a blessing to us.

At times,
there are pages of homework,
library books,
gym shorts,
church books,
pens, pencils, crayons,
even a dog leash
laying about the long wooden slats
that have been carefully carved
and crafted into our dinner table.
Those things are also blessings to enrich
our lives,
as individuals
and as a family.

To find it completely cleaned,
with nothing on it,
is to find it right before dinner,
or right after dinner...
but usually
it is laden with the stuff of our
family's
comings and goings.

We dedicate it daily
to serving our family's needs.
We eat at it,
Serve one another around it,
laugh around it,
gather our friends to it
and
Pray to our Heavenly Father at it,
asking for His Love to protect us
and guide us
and teach us to be better people.

This Christmas Season was no different--
I prepared my family's favorite treats
with my sweet daughter-in-love, Tisha
by my side.
We chopped
and stirred
and mixed
and tasted
and Served.
And we loved.

The smells coming from the kitchen
pulled the family
from the corners of the house
to "see what's cookin'"--
everyone eager to taste and share
the bounty.

We pull out our best red dishes
with the moose
and bear
on them
and we sit in our favorite wooden seats
waiting for all to be filled,
even when we have to "go find" the missing person--
we wait.
Then we pray.
We express our gratitude
for all that we have
and acknowledge His hands in everything.
And once again,
dedicate our hearts to Him
and one another.

Looking at my dinner table
with eternal eyes--
fills my heart with joy!
It is not a new or even nearly new
expensive wood--
it's just a long oak table
with dents
and scratches
from years of daily use.

It is MY altar.
It is where I bring the fruits of my labors
to serve
my family
and my Heavenly Father.

Now, go look at your dinner table with new eyes...
tell me if yours isn't as divine as mine.
I'm sure it is.

---

The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe has nothing on this Momza of Seven, mil to two, and recently crowned "Granma" to a Ninja-Baby who has stolen her heart with his toothless grin. Dawn is a Midwife Assistant/Doula, Home Stager, Writer, and Convert to the LDS faith--living the dream in the Colorado Rockies! She blogs at Momza's House.

Pregnancy. There is nothing more mind-blowing, and life-changing for a woman than being pregnant and carrying a child. Everywhere you look, everywhere you go, you are bombarded with advice, and tips, and how-to's and how-to-nots... but what about the other half? The other, non-pregnant half? What about the dad?

In Pregnant: A Field Guide to Fathering, author Gary Kleiman tells it like it is.

"Men, your child needs you. And you need your child."

He offers simple, sage advice for soon-to-be fathers. I love how he stresses that things will be different, and that's okay! Different is fun! Different is exciting!

The book is separated into two sections.  Part one is called “Getting Daddy Ready”.  This section concerns itself with doing just that.  It helps to build self-confidence, patience, and a general understanding of what to expect when a man becomes a father.  And just as important, it helps a man to make some choices on his own that will help make the transition into parenting a little bit smoother. More than anything, this book helps connect a man with his children.

Part two of the book is entitled “Field Guide to Your Child”.  This is the practical stuff.  It answers questions like:  How do you clip those teensy weensy finger nails without taking a little snip out of their finger?  With so many models on the market, which potty seat should I buy?  Or should I have one in the first place?  What about teething?  What diapers should I choose?  What about pets?  And chores?  And should the baby sleep in his parent’s bed?  Or in its own? 

I really like this book. It's a no-nonsense guide to parenting. Sometimes things work, sometimes things don't. But if you are patient and kind, and realize that parenting is not about YOU, then mostly likely, everything will turn out just fine.

*Buy Pregnant: A Field Guide To Fathering here.

In the Word of Wisdom there is a line that says that one of the blessings of following it is that we "shall run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint" (D&C 89:20). So you may wonder why an attempt to go running results with you being weary and faint within the first block. In your quest to lose weight and/or get fit this year keep these simple tips in mind.

It's not often that we receive a product that goes on our "Must rush out and buy one for everybody we know" list. And we were not expecting this next one to casually saunter in here and jump straight to the top of the list, but jump it did.



MMB is over the moon in LOVE with Indestructibles.

It wasn't at all what I was expecting. The book itself is very thin, and when I think of baby books, I think heavy cardboard or fluffy fabric. The pages are like paper, but completely tear resistant. (Trust me, I tried. And then I let each of my kids try. And then I gave it over to my husband to see what he could do.) The book is so thin, that it will easily fit into any purse or diaper bag. Much better than their bulky counterparts.Of course, the pages are waterproof as well (oh yes, you can throw these suckers in the washing machine... if that's not a qualification of child-friendliness, I don't know what is.) These books are indestructible.

The pages are filled with bright, watercolor images. These are picture books, so you can make up your own story, or just enjoy the illustrations in silence. (Silence is always a good option for me.)

These books are absolutely incredible, and if you have a baby, or are about to have a baby, or know someone who has a baby, Indestructibles would make a perfect gift.

You can purchase an Indestructible book wherever books are sold.

http://www.europeanexpressions.com/

I'm excited to share a fun, easy and affordable project with you today!

First you'll need to raid your little girls dress up jewelry! Quick! She's not looking!!!

This fun scrap fabric bracelet project uses plastic bangle bracelets and scrap fabric and buttons (optional!). Don't laugh, but the bracelets I'm using came from a Barbie Happy Meal from McDonald's. FINALLY, a Happy Meal toy I didn't want to throw away!

• Bracelets
• A glue gun and glue sticks
• Scrap Fabric and
• Buttons for adorning

I read an article awhile ago, about how a married couple added "sex" on the calender.



To make sure that they HAD it, twice a week.

The comments that went along with the article were harsh. Unfairly so.

The thing is, I totally get that.

In my life, with 4 young children running amok, and mountains of laundry to keep up with, and groceries to buy, and bills to pay....

It's too easy to fall into bed at night completely exhausted and forget that I need to maintain a relationship with my husband.

We all know that men and women are two different creatures.

We operate under entirely different circumstances, and we have entirely different needs.

I need clean counters.

He needs sex.

And even if I'm not into things in the beginning, after a few minutes, I'm grateful that we took the time to remember to have sex.

And if I have to write in on the calender, so be it.

Does that trivialize our relationship? I don't think so.

Do we still have spontaneous sessions? Yes.

Do you think that scheduling sex takes the fun and passion out of it?

Did you know that between now and May 5th there will be exactly one CBC FULL CONFERENCE PASS given away EVERY WEEK? That's right, altogether, you will have 10 chances to win a pass to the first blogging conference in Utah!


Last week, Becca gave one away.

This week, it's our turn.

The Casual Blogger Conference is for YOU. It is YOU that we had in mind when planning this thing, and it has been YOUR feedback, YOUR ideas, YOUR hearts and hands that we have had in mind as we execute this great venture.

The Casual Blogger Conference knows that while you enjoy blogging, it doesn't come first.

• Blogging helps enhance your life, and the hobbies that you already have.
  
• Blogging helps you to record various aspects of your hobby and life for posterity. 
• Blogging helps to inspire you and others. 

We have great things lined up. So many fun surprises, you'll just have to come to see what we have hiding up our sleeves!

Entering to win a pass is easy. Each person can have up to TWO entries.

Entry Numero Uno: Comment. That's it.

Entry Numero Dos: Blog, tweet, Facebook, Stumble, Digg us, whatever Social Media format you use, share this contest, then come back and comment again with a link to your post/tweet/status/whatever.

Contest will remain open until Sunday, January 24 at midnight, EST.

Winner will be announced Monday.

(and then of course, we'll tell you where the NEXT conference pass is being given away.)

So, I didn’t really teach any of my children to lie. I mean, what mother would do such a thing on purpose? And yet, because kids will be kids, they've all figured out what it is to tell a tall tale. All lies, however, are not created equal.

My oldest, for example, is hands down, the worst liar I have ever known. He turns bright red and a sheepish grin inches over his face, while he nods his head excessively. As soon as you call him on it, which isn't hard to do when he gives so many obvious clues, he caves. "Okay, you're right. I did it!"

Child number 2, on the other hand has no problem telling a lie. The only trouble for her is that she doesn't ever temper the outrageousness of her claims. She's just as easily caught as her brother. Try as she might to convince me, I’m not prone to believe that she cannot find her shoes because an alien spaceship flew into her room and took them right off her feet and there just wasn’t anything she could do about it.

And then there’s kid number 3. He's the one I worry about. He's good – convincing, realistic, and totally unfazed by the process of creating a lie. I do have one way though, of trapping him. So far, it's worked every time.

Me: "Sam? Did you brush your teeth?"

Sam: "Yep, I sure did."

Me: "Are you sure?"

Sam: "Yes, Mommy. I got my toothbrush wet, and brush, brush, brushed, and then rinsed it off. I even tried really hard not to get toothpaste on my shirt. Then I wiped my face on the blue towel hanging on the back of the door."

(I told you he was good… who lies with that kind of detail?)

Me: "Can I go and check your toothbrush to see if it's wet?"

Sam: "Mommy!? I can't believe you. Don't you trust me?!"

Hmmm. Seems like he's got me now, right? So I say:

"Turn around and tell that picture of Jesus that you brushed your teeth. And then I'll trust you."

Heh, heh, heh.

There is no lack of effort when Sam is challenged in this way. He turns and stares, hands on hips and face set in a determined scowl. But he always caves.

I'm strangely comforted that even though he doesn't hesitate when lying to me, he has yet to manage a lie to Jesus.

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MommyJ is an aspiring writer and stay at home Mom to four children, (with number five on the way) including a vibrantly active set of 6 year old twins. She lives with her children and husband of nine years in a tiny town in the beautiful mountains of Western North Carolina - a place she considers the loveliest on earth. While she mourns the absence of any shopping options beyond Wal-Mart, she loves the presence of so many trees to help buffer the constant noisyness of her home. She hikes to enjoy time with her family, runs because her love for food requires it, writes to maintain her sanity and blogs as often as her crazy children and busy schedule allow on her personal blog, www.mommysnark.blogspot.com

My daughter Claire's friend got an award at school a while ago. It was a big deal. I could hear the envy in Claire's voice as she told me all about it and asked when she might get her own award. It's amazing what a little piece of paper can do.

All that talk made me remember the awards we had growing up.

They were just pieces of paper that had the acronyms of what they stood for written in my Dad's best artistic hand. The ones I remember most are "SS" for "self-starter," "WWJD" for "what would Jesus do," "LFR" for "leader for the right" and "NAP" for "neat as a pin."

We'd sit around at Sunday dinner and have the "awards discussion." My parents would ask us who was in the running for each award. We'd pipe up and tell about things we or a sibling did to be a "Leader for the Right" that week (great things came out that may have never been heard otherwise), or my parents would make comments on who they thought was particularly good at being a "Self Starter" with their jobs or homework, etc. Then my Dad would award the awards to those he deemed the "winners." We'd proudly get to display them on our doors all week until the next Sunday dinner when they were up for grabs again.

I loved it. I think it really taught me to want to be better...to try harder. To be my best.

So we started doing it with our kids years ago. It stuck for a week or two, but they were too young to really get it. But after Claire's little "award envy" this year I decided we needed to give it a try again.

Well guess what? They get it this time. Some weeks we're better at doing it than others, but I love it because it gives the kids a chance to really think about what they're doing that's good...and a chance for us to praise them about it.

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Shawni Eyre Pothier is first and foremost a wife and a mother to six of her favorite people. She enjoys photography and writing which has led to publishing her first book co-authored with her Mother, Linda Eyre called "A Mother's Book of Secrets." Her personal blog, Life, chronicles her day to day. She has recently started an effort called the "I Love Lucy Project" to help raise funds to go toward research to help fight blindness since her youngest daughter has been diagnosed with a syndrome that causes vision loss.