Woman Oh Pause

Granny B . . . what is on your mind today?

"Well, for one thing it has always bothered me that menopause isn’t called womanopause. I mean who’s doing the pausing here? I’ve heard about all the hot flashes, night sweats and mood changes that accompany the loss of fertility. Why doesn’t anybody talk about the pause part? I think pause should mean – pause - stop and ponder.
Growing older is not what I expected. I mean I used to think old people were old people. We’re not. Older people are just regular people in old bodies. We stay pretty much the same inside as the years go by but the body goes south. Life is so much shorter than I thought it would be. I think we’re more likely to learn something along the way if we take the time to contemplate what our experiences have taught us.
Once I was sitting next to Emily Watts at a Deseret Book Time Out for Women. We were both on the program and waiting to speak to a large gathering of women.
“They’ve got me billed as the one who’s giving the mother talk,” I said turning to her. "I’m not comfortable appearing to be some kind of expert. I mean, what to I know? I don’t feel like I really know anything about being a mom.”
“Yes you do,” she answered. “Think about it.”
And so I did.
Thinking about it is the part I’m interested in. By the time we hit our fifties, most of us are inching up on the tail end of the crowded years. For the first half of our life we hurried around like Martha taking care of all the needs in our family and the universe. Now it is time to be more like Mary and choose more carefully the better part. Raising a family is a lot of hard work interspersed with moments of indescribable joy. If we don’t take the time to share our dear and not so dear motherhood experiences, the younger moms coming up through the ranks will think they are alone. When new moms lock arms with old moms we are a formidable force for good and much cheaper than therapy.
We spend the first half of our lives acquiring and accumulating. We spend the last half unloading and thinning out. We come to understand less is more. We spend the first half of our lives wishing everybody would leave us alone so we can get something important done. We spend the last half of our lives trying to get those same people to come back because we realize they are the important part.
Menopause ushers us from a fertile time for our bodies into a fertile time for our minds. We are given our bodies back, though a little wider and sporting a C-section scar or two. Now we’re asked to see what we will do with a seasoned heart. That’s why we’re called grand mothers. We don’t have to give birth any more or be the disciplinarians – just the lovers. That’s what makes grand parenting so grand.
Motherhood follows the same cycle of life as in nature with spring time, summer, autumn and winter – each following the other in an eternal round. Whether we’re starting out or ending up, we all have something valuable to offer each other. We start out feeling like we’re giving up something more important to raise children and end up realizing raising children is the important part. We start out thinking we’re sacrificing our personal development and end up realizing the process of learning to love someone is the ultimate road to personal development. We quite literally find our self when we lose our self. In the end we come to know that everything that matters most is sitting around our kitchen table. And that’s something to pause and think about."

Thank you Granny B. We'll be back to visit with you soon.
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Poem For A Two-Year-Old

Happy Birthday Tessa.
I love you!

Here is a poem I wrote just for you

on your 2nd birthday

Tessa is Two

By

Granny B

 Tessa is two
So you better know who
Can call her granny
While she sits on her fanny
And hugs her new bunny
And makes the world sunny

 Tessa is Two
So you better Know who
Can fly in the air
When daddy is there
And sing lovely songs
Where the birds hum along

 Tessa is two
So you better know who
Can eat loaves of bread
Bigger than her head
And make her spaghetti
Into face mask confetti

 Tessa is two
So you better know who
Gives the best hugs
And plays on the rug
And pats your back
So your love tank won’t lack

 Tessa is two
So you better know who
Knows how to moo
And then how to coo
Whenever she’s sad
She doesn’t get mad

 Tessa is two
So you better know who
Can draw in her brow
And give you a bow
Then it’s time for a smile
Her giggle stretches for miles

 Tessa is two
So you better know who
Sleeps in her bed
While angels stoke her downy head
And her both her parents whisper
“When she grows up we sure will miss her”

 Tessa is two
So you better know who
Smiles in her sleep
But doesn’t make a peep
For she knows love is deep
And all hers to keep

 

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Learning the Fine Art of Muddling

The dishwasher had malfunctioned, flooding our house all night as we slept. We didn’t know until one of our sleepy-eyed children came into our bedroom early in the morning and said, “Mom and Dad! It’s raining in the basement!”
The room tha...t was hardest hit was the storage room where we’d recently carefully stacked and dated our pride and joy, a two-year supply of food. In a mad dash to save anything we could, every member of our family hauled each bucket and box out into the back yard to dry out. It took hours.

Just when we finished, we heard a clap of thunder, looked up, and felt several drops splash in our eyes. Then the heavens were opened and the few drops immediately became a downpour. We regrouped and quickly hauled our soggy mess into the garage.

When we finally got every box and bucket into the garage, my son came running to me in tears, informing me his pet rabbit was dead. After finally getting the children off to school, my daughter called from campus saying she couldn’t remember where she’d parked the car at BYU. Then my other first-grader had an accident that required a change of clothing. You get the picture.

“I can’t handle any more,” I said to my husband.

“You don’t have to handle it,” my husband replied. “There’s no rule book somewhere that says you have to go through life handling everything. Just muddle, Jan. I’ve been muddling for years and no one can tell the difference.”

Muddle, I thought. I think I can muddle.

Now every time I’m feeling overwhelmed, I remember my husband’s timely advice. Frankly, I’ve been muddling ever since and so far no one can tell the difference, just like he promised.

Muddling is not mediocrity. Muddling is a relaxed state of mind that allows us to stop trying to "handle" everything that life sends our way. Muddling is knowing that the only thing we are in charge of is how we respond to what life hands us. Muddling stops the self-battering that tells us we’ll never measure up or be good enough. Muddling is accepting our humanness and inadequacies. Muddling is knowing that we all have good days and not so good days. And muddling is never giving up hope that things will work out.Pin It

BEING GRATEFUL FOR WHAT WE ALREADY HAVE

When we focus on being grateful for what we have instead of longing for what we don’t have, what we have will always be enough. I remember a time in my life when I had to learn this lesson the hard way.

One evening after we moved into our ...first new home, my husband seeded our front yard dirt with grass seed. The next morning, he told me it was important to keep the dirt wet or the grass seeds wouldn’t sprout. Then he kissed me on the cheek and left for work. Since it was the middle of July, this assignment was a full-time job. On top of that, I was pregnant and had two baby daughters to care for.

I stood on the front porch, feeling lightheaded and nauseated, squirting the dirt while my one-and two-year-old daughters tumbled down the steps, threw their shoes in the ditch and stuffed rocks up their noses. After days and days of constant watering, our front yard grew the biggest, greenest weeds in the neighborhood.

“This if my life,” I remember mumbling as I sprayed the dirt. “I water weeds. I feed one end of my girls and clean up the other. Nothing I do really matters.”

A few days later, I had serious complications with my pregnancy and late one night began hemorrhaging. My husband quickly raced me to the emergency room of the nearest hospital. After the doctor arrived and slowed the bleeding, he told us our baby was dead. It broke my heart to leave the hospital that night with empty arms. When we arrived home, I found our two baby daughters asleep on our bed. Now, I’d always loved my daughters, but never quite like I did at that night.

"Thank you God," I thought with new awareness. "They are alive. It is such a miracle to have a child who is alive."

Several days later when I went out to check on our front lawn of weeds, I found something I’ll never forget. If I got down on my hands and knees and took out a magnifying glass, I could see tiny blades of grass so small they looked like green sewing thread. All my watering and weeding was starting to pay off.

I understood I needed faith and patience during the growing season. It occurred to me that all the work involved in caring for a young family was like our newly seeded lawn – a lot of labor and weeds at first. You can’t see the roots setting deep in the rich soil of parental love. Then when the tender seedlings begin to grow, they have the means to sustain them through times of drought and frost.

I also realized if I didn’t stop and notice the miracles of my everyday life, I would miss the joy in the journey. In time, my children, like the lawn, would not require my constant care - the fleeting moments of childhood will have passed.

CALEB'S THANK YOU LETTERS TO HIS FAMILY

I felt prompted to help my grandson Caleb
write these letters to his family
on his 7th birthday.
He died unexpectedly a few weeks later.

Dear Mother,

Many years ago you went in for an ultrasound very early in your pregnancy. You found out that I was a boy . . . and you also found out that I was missing my brain. When the medical professionals told you that I had no chance of survival and recommended an abortion - thank you for having the courage to listen to your heart and not your fears. When they told you I would have no quality of life and that I would ruin your family’s quality of life, thank you for choosing to discover what quality of life really means. When they told you I was missing an eye, thank you for choosing to see me as your precious son and not what the doctor called me (not viable - not conpatible with life). When further tests revealed that my entire head had not formed correctly and that my cleft-plate, partially formed nose and multiple missing cranial structures would make eating and breathing in a usual way impossible, thank you for choosing not to despair, but to devote yourself cheerfully and gratefully to my 24-hour care. When the doctors told you to take me home, buy a burial plot and let me die, thank you for choosing to fight for my life and celebrate each day I was in your home.

These past seven years have brought multiple hospitalizations and near death emergencies. We’ve spent a lot of time in hospital, you and me. Thank you for always being there right beside me when each individual breath was painful, labored and exhausting. I’ve heard your every prayer, every heart-felt longing and each exhausted plea to God. And though I’ve never been able to speak a word or raise my arms to embrace you, never doubt how much I love you my precious mother. There is a love deeper than life and broader than time between you and me, an eternal bond that time and circumstance will never break.

I am so grateful that you have chosen to live the past seven years with joy, not sorrow – that my presence was and is enough for you. The world defines us by what we can do. Thank you for choosing to define me by who I am. There will be a day, beyond this life, when I will be able to say all the things I never said, but I have a feeling you already know. When two hearts are knit together, there is often no need for words.

I was born in the winter, a time of waiting before the spring. Always remember that winter’s promise is the hope of spring. There will be a day when the time of waiting is over and all that was lost will be reborn.

I love you mom.

Caleb

Dear Father,

I know you and mom stay up late every night with me so my medication can take effect and also to have some special snuggle time with me. You and Mom usually tuck me into bed around midnight, but it usually isn't long until my alarms start beeping, I need suctioning, a diaper change or more medicine. A few nights a week I have a night nurse who sits with me from 12-6 so you and mom can get some sleep. But on the other nights, it is you and me Dad. You are always there with me when I need you in the night. Those late night hours when it is just you and me mean everything to me. In this life I will never be able play catch, or even speak or hug you. But I know that when fathers love their sons, they love them in the way they need to be loved. With us it is g-tubes, respirators and diapers.

You are always there with me when I need you in the day also. Dad, thank you for going to work every day at BYU so that all of us have everything we need.

Dad, I want you to know about something you may not see. When fathers love their sons like you love me, the powers of heaven open. There are angels around you every night, lifting your arms when you are too tired and keeping you awake when every cell in your body screams for sleep. I am aware of and grateful for every time you turn me, change my diaper, suction me then hug me and kiss me. You never complain, and though I can’t respond when you talk to me, I hear you Dad. I hear every word, spoken or unspoken, every desire, and every prayer to God in my behalf.

I also love the way you tease me like Dad’s do. Like the way you call me One-eye and let me dress up as the one-eyed pirate on Halloween.

I love the way take me everywhere and proudly tell people I am your son. When you come into my room at night I always proudly tell the angels that you are my father.

I love you Dad.

Caleb

Dear Brothers,

Josh, Matty and Mitch - I’m so happy that you are my brothers. You always take time every day to include me and make me an important part of the Moody boy’s story.

I remember when you used to crawl in in crib when I was a baby and sing “I am a child of God” when my heart rate was getting too slow. You always brought me toys and even though I couldn’t play with them the way you do, I imagined myself playing with them and it was still fun.

I love it when you hug and kiss me and tell me about your day. Even though I can’t raise my arms to hug you back, I love the way you lift my arms around your neck and put your cheek next to my lips.

When you talk to me I can’t answer you with my mouth in words, but I hear you listening to me with your heart. When you’re listening that way you can hear me telling you, “I love you Josh.” “I love you Matty.” “I love you Mitchell.” Thank you for helping mom during the day when I need to be turned or suctioned. That is such a nice way to tell me you love me back.

Don’t worry about my eye that is missing. When I was in heaven, I knew the Baadsgaard secret code for telling each other “I love you, you’re wonderful, and you can do it!” It was a wink. I knew that I would never be able to speak to you with words in this life, so I thought of a plan. That is why I chose to come as your brother winking so that you would always know that I love you and believe in you. Thank you for believing in me – believing that I am still your brother inside this body – even though I can’t move, or see or hear or think the way you do. Thank you for believing that even though I’m missing my brain, I’m not missing my heart and soul. Thank you for believing that we will always be one of the Moody boys and we’ll always love each other forever.

I love you Joshua.

I love you Mathew

I love you Mitchell.

Caleb
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Why I Write

Granny B it looks like you've done a lot of writing over the years. Why do you do that?

Well, let me put it this way. . . I write so I don't go crazy. Most of the time my thoughts are just a jumble in my head. Writing is the way I make sense of this business of being alive.
One of my buddies put it this way . . .
"I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say." Flannery O'Connor

That pretty much covers it for today.

Thanks Granny B. We'll be back soon.
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Official Book Trailer for HEALING FROM NEGLECT. . . When Those We Love Don't Love Us

 http://youtu.be/_KHUSmFkJgA
Here is the official book trailer
for my new book
coming out in May
called
HEALING FROM NEGLECT . . . When Those We Love Don't Love Us.

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"HEALING FROM ABUSE" book by Janene Baadsgaard is an answer to prayer

Here is a letter I received from a reader about her experience with abuse in her marriage.

"Two days ago, I left my counselors office and went to Deseret Book, in hopes of finding a book that could help to bring me comfort. I have been searching Church bookstores for more than twenty years, hoping to find a book on verbal and emotional abuse. For 36 years, I have known that things were not right, but the only sources I could find in the church discussed not being so selfish and trying harder to make my spouse happier. Because of those books and articles, I essencially gave away every right to love and respect, let him do whatever he wanted, never voiced an opinion, convinced that I was the problem. He grasped upon this newfound sense of control and raged forward to crush my spirit, while trying to raise his own sense of selfworth. As I lay curled up on a bed in fetal position last December, after an hour of being yelled at, accused, condemned, told that I was the cause of all that was wrong, I prayed throughout the whole night for the Lord to take me home. As it continued the next day, the Spirit came upon me, and in a feeling of warmth and peace, I knew that the time to leave had come. However, even in doing so, I have been plagued with a sense of failure and wondering if I will ultimately be condemned for leaving a marriage that was sealed in the temple. Was I giving away every blessing and chance that I had for the Celestial Kingdom by filing for a divorce? Maybe I was really a sick person and did not know it! Was I just not willing to look at what a horrible person I had become? Could it be that “I” was in denial, and not my husband? Was “I” the problem? My husband affirmed that the answers to these questions was “yes”.
My counselor began to help me see what was really happening at home, and that the answer to these questions was actually a resounding “NO”. I began to feel that I was doing the right thing by leaving, in spite of my grown children’s protests. I gained strength and confidence. But the questions about the eternal consequences I might face continued to plague me. For weeks I had prayed to have some answers….I prayed that there might be a book to help me and answer my questions, so that I could feel the peace I so desparately wanted. The next day, I went to Deseret Book and felt prompted to buy your book. Thank you so much! Your descriptions of the abuser and the abused describe so perfectly the life that I have led for 36 years. The scriptures and quotes from prophets and apostles, along with the explainations and interpretations of their meaning have helped to give me a sense of peace and purpose that I have never possessed. Realizing that by leaving, I am stopping the abuse and am actually helping HIM to not further condemn himself, is a huge help. Thank you so much…..my only wish is that your book had been available 30 years ago, when I searching for such answers back then! I am finally , beginning to look forward to the rest of my life."

 

"Healing From Abuse" Reader Review

I just received this letter from a kind reader.

"I have been meaning to send you a note for ages, thanking you for writing "Healing from Abuse". I know it was not an easy thing for you to do, faced as you were with so many challenges. I admire you so much for your courage and persistence! This is a book that really needed to be published. It is one of the best I have ever read on the subject of abuse. I have given it to several people who desperately to read it.
On a more personal note, thank you SO much for your message in the book that it is not mandatory to continue in a relationship with an abuser in order to experience true forgiveness. Unfortunately and sometimes tragically, this viewpoint is conveyed to abuse victims more often than we imagine, by people who are in a position of trust in their lives. It happened to me. I was told by a church leader many years ago that not only should I forgive the abuser in my life, but 'put my arms around him', tell him how much I loved him, and continue in a relationship with him, because that is what good members of our church do. Believe me when I tell you that this abuser was not someone who should remain in my life, or in the lives of my loved ones. This was a situation in which the authorities had to be contacted. I certainly agreed that I needed to forgive him, but it would have been extremely harmful to continue in a relationship with him, period. I know that forgiveness can be achieved without remaining in a destructive relationship, and as you said in your book, forgiveness is as much for the victim as it is for the abuser, because it is very difficult to move past the abuse if you are locked in the pain and anger of the past. I was angry for a long time. (I wish I had been able to read your book then!) I have since been able to move toward forgiveness but, as you also said in your book, it is a long process and I am not quite there yet, even after all these years. But I haven't remained angry and bitter, and have been able to help others, and that has been so valuable and important in my healing process.
Again, Janene, thank you for going through what you did to publish this wonderful book."

 

I Have A New Author Facebook Page

I have a new author facebook page called Baadsgaard Bylines where I share my news and views. I also regularly interview Granny B for her wit and wisdom. Check it out at http://www.facebook.com/pages/Baadsgaard-Bylines/134614790040114?ref=hl.

If you like it, be sure to click the "like button" for that page and then share it with your family and friends.

 

Granny B do you have anything you want to share today?
"Yes sir, I do. Did you know that after much serious research by learned scholars on the subject, scientists have discovered it's bad to suppress laughter. If you do, it sucks back down into your body and spreads out at your hips."
 

Thank you for sharing Granny B.

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On The Roller Coaster Called Motherhood

I've been writing about the ups and down of family life for many years. Here is a story from my book "On The Roller Coaster Called Motherhood".

I've been going to parent/teacher conferences for over thirty years. Certain meetings have proved to be unforgettable. For example, this is what my daughter's kindergarten teacher told me.

"I have seventy students. There are thirty-five in my morning session and thirty-five in the afternoon. Well, I'd just finished with boots number 137 and 138 on little Billy before I got to the end of the line - your daughter. We shoved and we pushed and we sweated, but we finally managed to get those stubborn boots on her. As I leaned back to take a deep breath, your daughter said, 'These aren't my boots.'
"Oh, great, I thought. Some fellow student has walked off with the wrong pair of boots. So we huffed and puffed and pushed and pulled, and finally we got them off.
"Then your daughter sweetly said, 'Those are my big brother's boots, but my mom makes me wear them anyway.'Pin It

Poem for a One-Year-Old

Lily’s Poem

By Grandma Baadsgaard
Happy First Birthday Lily.
I love you.
You make my heart sing.

 

Did you know Lily’s turning one today
So everybody should shout hurray
With a darling dimple on each cheek
And two chubby feet that play hide and seek

Lily can chase your troubles away
Her smile keeps all your grown-up worries at bay
For Lily spreads sunshine where ever she goes
As she wiggles her nose and fingers and toes

She makes everyone happy with a turn of her head
And if you are listening you’ll hear what she said

 

“Mommy, just keep holding me tight
And don’t forget to kiss me goodnight.”
“Daddy, I sure like your big bear hugs
I’ll always be your cute beetle bug.”

Grandma, “Thanks for tending me
When Mommy’s busy with piano-bee.”
Grandpa, “Thanks for candy treats
And lots and lots of Sunday sweets.”

This big wide world is pretty great
When I have all you guys in wait

 Though I’ll always be your sweet Lily pad
There will be times when I make you mad
Like when I just won’t sleep at night
And keep our house a bomb-hit sight

But always when I’m fast asleep
You’ll sneak to my bed and take a peek
That’s when your angel you will see
For your sweet Lily Pad I’ll always be.

 

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THE TRUE MEANING OF SUCCESS

I was driving home the other day when a billboard caught my eye. It was a large picture of an older woman with her arms crossed in front of her chest. She had a broad smile on her face. The caption read, “Put poor kids though college . . . ...pass it on.”
Hey, I’m doing that too, I remember thinking.
Only the poor kids are all mine. Ross and I have always lived on a modest single salary. People told us you can’t raise a big family without two incomes these days. You can – if you want to bad enough. We had a dream when we married. We wanted to raise a large family and make investments in our children. So we made plans and went to work so we could offer all our ten children a university scholarship when they graduated from high school. We knew investing in human beings brings meaningful dividends.
As the years went by we both had opportunities come to us that would have required we limit our family size or the amount of time we had to spend with our children. We passed. We had a vision. We knew what felt right for us, a personal formula for success that felt good to us in our own soul.
We all need a vision – an inner flight plan that takes us where we want to land. If our vision only includes acquiring more material possessions and not blessing the lives of others . . . that is what we will end up with in the end. Through the years we have observed people with stuff visions. When they achieved the big house, new car or notoriety they sought, it did not make them happy. Lives spent on self and acquiring more possessions never satisfies. The thrill of ownership fades as quickly as the red paint on a new sports car.
I starting writing newspaper columns so I could afford to give all my children piano lessons. Writing about being a mom was something I could do at home. One thing led to another and pretty soon the columns became books.
One Saturday morning I was signing books at Barns and Noble when someone walked up and said, “Wow, you’re an author. That’s so glamorous. I’ll bet you lead a pretty exciting life.”
I chuckled as I recalled the morning’s events before I got to the store. I’d snuggled with my husband and a half dozen kids in bed, done three loads of laundry, cleaned up after soggy waffles then nursed and changed the baby. Before I hopped in the van to drive to the bookstore I spied a pile of do–do on our driveway covered with flies. I noticed my toddler near the mess minus his pants and underwear.
“Do you know anything about this?” I asked
“Sorry Mom,” my little boy answered. “I had to go real bad and I couldn’t wait.”
So I quickly dragged out the garden hose and ran some bath water. We splashed until my little boy laughed so loud it made my heart sing. I was late for the book signing, but I really didn’t care. All the people I cared most about weren’t at the store.
“Actually,” I said turning to the stranger talking to me at the author signing table, “writing is pretty boring compared to being a mom. Now that’s exciting.”
When it looks good to the world but doesn’t feel good in our soul, it isn’t success.

The LDS Mother's Almanac - Story Behind the Book

One afternoon after an exhausting day dealing with the chaotic demands of my large family and a busy husband, an editor from Deseret Book called me and asked me to write a comprehensive book for mothers.
"What do you mean by comprehensive?"... I asked.
"You know, you cover about everything a mother needs to know."
I laughed out loud.
"I can't do that. It's not possible and besides, I'm not an expert." I replied.
"We didn't ask you because you're an expert. We asked you because we love your writing style. You help mothers laugh, relax and feel good about themselves and what they do."

After more shameless bribery, I finally agreed to give it a try.

Within the next few days, my husband was called as a Mormon bishop and I found out I was pregnant with child number ten. (I was in my late forties).

I deeply doubted myself. How could I possibly write this book when my husband and children would not quit jumbling up my days with constant family demands and drama? How could I even think straight when I was so nauseated I could barely get my head off the floor. Certainly there was someone out there more qualified. I just was not up for up this. With all the material I could cover, I didn't even know where to start?

That weekend, my husband was headed up to the Homestead resort in Utah for some business meetings and I decided to go with him. While he was in planning meetings during the day, I had the opportunity for some quiet time to think away from my noisy household.

I was sitting alone in a hotel bed pregnant and nauseated contemplating where to begin. How could I write a comprehensive book for mothers when I was still trying to figure out this mom stuff for myself? I cried, but that just gave me a headache. So I got on my knees and prayed with a sincerity and earnestness that only comes from complete desperation. I was on my knees for a long, long time. I poured out all my inadequacies and flaws. I told God I could not write this book without His help.

Finally the answer came, clear and sweet. I needed to re-read the proclamation on the family. As I read, and reread this document, the jumble of anxieties in my head felt at peace for the first time.

“We declare that God’s commandment for His children to multiply and replenish the earth remains in force.”

This quote became SECTION ONE titled Better Beginnings where I discussed pregnancy, labor, delivery, and caring for a new baby. I was also living through pregnancy, labor, delivery and caring for a new baby in my own life while I was writing about it.

“Parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness, to provide for their physical and spiritual needs, to teach them to love and serve one another, to observe the commandments of God and to be law-abiding citizens wherever they live.”

This quote became SECTION TWO called Understanding the Basics where I discussed children at different ages of development, discipline, housework, preparing meals, laundry, yard work family finances and fitness. I was also trying to fit in all these hundreds of demands on my energy while I was writing about it.

“Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities.”

This quote became SECTION THREE where I give ideas for celebrations, birthdays, holidays, important events, the outdoors, family vacations and daily life. I was also living through all the crazy holidays, events and vacations while I was writing about it.

“Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children.”

This quote became SECTION FOUR where I discussed expression, art, cooking, crafts, computers, dance, drama, music, photography, reading, science, math, writing, family fun, nurturing self and grandma-hood. I was also wondering how to fit in all that good stuff and learning to be a new grandma while I was writing about it.

“Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teaching of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

This quote became SECTION FIVE where I discussed the family and the church, perfecting the saints, proclaiming the gospel, redeeming the dead, balancing busy family life, spiritual growth for moms and dealing with tough problems. I was also trying to create spiritual growth in my unbalanced self while I was writing about it.

Yet, even after I had a vision for the organization and what I wanted to discuss, my life was not happily ever after. I got about 200 pages into the manuscript before I got bogged down and discouraged. I wanted to give up. The new book and my life were just too exhausting and overwhelming. I rarely saw my busy bishop husband, my ten very active children were a hand full and the newborn late-night feedings and teenage curfew breakers kept me in a state of perpetual sleep deprivation.

Then 911 happened. I thought about all the mothers and fathers who were killed in the towers. I thought about the possibility of my own death and what I would want my children and grandchildren to know. My deep love for my own sons and daughters gave me the will to continue when I wanted to give up. So, I just kept waking up every day, rubbing my eyes and giving it my best shot.

Is "The LDS Mother’s Almanac", my comprehensive book for mothers, a literary masterpiece? Far from it. Do I have a perfect family? Far from it. Did I ever see my husband again when he was released as bishop? No. They made him stake president. Did I ever get a goodnight’s sleep? No, I still have teenagers and my husband snores. And guess what, I’ve never really felt like I figured out how to be a mom. I think that’s OK. I think we all feel like that.

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Poem For a Five-Year-Old

Emma’s Poem

By Grandma Baadsgaard

Here is a poem I wrote just for you
on your fifth birthday
I love you very much

 When you’re turning five
You sure know you’re alive
You’re learning all the letters
So your reading can be better

If you practice it a lot
You can learn to skip and hop
And if you’re really brave
You might start a two-wheel craze

Learning all your numbers
Makes you kind of slumber
And eating lots of beans
Makes your eyes look mean

So sometimes you say, “No!”
But Mommy just says, “So . . .”
Then you’re back to feeling mad
With squishy eyes that are so sad

But when Daddy throws you way up high
You know that you can touch the sky
And when you come back down again
We’re not so sure just where you’ve been

For turning five gives you wings to fly

And far too soon you’ll be six by and by

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