Watching Kiddo interact with Babs is a fascinating window on how she perceives me. But the other day I finally had to be explicit. "Kiddo, did you know that only mom and daddy's get to make rules? That big sisters don't get to make rules for their little sister?" She seemed genuinely surprised. So that was good to get out in the open.
Now that she knows she can't make the rules though, she can express frustration about not being in charge. So, she says sometimes "Well, if I were the mom, then I would..." and yesterday, when she said it again, I almost told her she could have a turn. I was not having any fun, and just wanted a break.
Luckily one was on the horizon (a much better break than last week's trip to the dentist, which I'll admit I was looking forward to as "special me time"). I went to the temple last night.
As I rounded to corner on the highway, the temple stood tall and majestic, as always. And I felt pulled in, as if Heavenly Father were standing at the door calling "Hurry home!" I was anxious to oblige. I remembered that in the Missionary Training Center, my weekly trips to the temple were my refuge, and how I would attempt to collect the peace inside of me, to sustain me for the next week. (I certainly don't need peace now like I needed it then, but don't we always need more inner calm?)
Once inside, I just tried to feel the calm that is there. I wondered how to help my home be more like the temple. My newest effort is to renew my effort to find joy, to choose joy, in daily life.
Have you heard those women, the saintly ones, who suggest that motherhood improves significantly when you start to see all the drudgery as instead sacred service? That every meal made, every dish washed, every sock folded is a way to show love to your family? I think it's really good advice, but have a hard time feeling it. I am growing into it though, and have found that it's even true. When I see dinner as a way to bless my family it becomes something I am fine doing, and perhaps even enjoy.
Last night at the temple I thought: If I can find joy doing the dishes, then surely I can find joy pretending to be Cinderella. It is the girls current favorite game, where my husband or I are assigned a doll and a character, and we get to talk for the doll. It about drives me batty, and I would rather not do it. But if I choose to play the game, not because it fulfills me, but because it fulfills them (and isn't that part of the reason I'm home with them all day anyway) then through this service, I'm sure I'll find joy. Or at least I hope.
