oh the irony

My teal paper-filled journal - the sole treasurer of our family's happenings as of late - has had repeat entries like this:

"Beauty day. I was finally ready at like, 4:00, and I checked off one item on my to-do list (even though my goal was to check the whole thing off and away). Whatev. Could be worse. We'll get scheduled again, and Olivia is gaining weight. All is well."

What else has an inexperienced mother have to say when the baby girl's schedule is unpredictable due to
A) Reflux - what did I eat this time??
B) Incoming teeth
C) The 45-minute nap intruder
D) I have no idea, really, so all of the above

I pick "D."

Lately I've just started the day with a plan of what I want to get done, and then I ride the waves of Olivia's needs. That means that in the end I spend a lot of time cooing and squawking, gargling and singing.

Sound enlightening, productive, and inspirational?

Not naturally.

However. This little girl is growing because of these most "insignificant" interactions and it's obvious that our friendship means everything to her. She trusts that I'll be there when she wakes up, and to be present until she drifts back to sleep. She relies on me entirely as she endeavors to develop, because what can she do for herself?

Do I grasp how much it means to her that I give her my time, how important it is that I am simply with her? I don't think so.

 If only she could really talk.

So, this motherhood job is turning me into a much more relaxed person. Never have I been so okay with just letting the day happen. I've been a strict scheduler of my personal life for ages. 

That said, as I am ever adjusting to this work, never have I been more efficient. The time I have to check of my to-do's when she naps - whether it be 45 minutes long or a blessed 2.5 hours - is oh so purposefully spent. Never have I showered, make-up'd, and tidied my house so fast. Never have I eaten my meals so swiftly. Never have I really, really tried to make my minutes count toward total productivity. 

I am Lady Easygoing and Mrs. Make-Things-Happen. Oh the irony.  

Oh, yes, the irony. This day-to-day work of caring for three-month-old Olivia is more fulfilling than anything I've ever done, and yet it's so very simple. 

Fact (however ironic it may be): the smallest of things in this life make the greatest, happiest differences. 

All is well.

these simple words saved my bacon

Sometimes the simplest things make the biggest, happiest differences.

Olivia smiles at me and I cheer like I've just won Wimbledon - she's cognitively functioning and, better yet, she likes me.

I make a real meal for dinner and mine and Ryan's bodies give a cheer - finally something more than eggs on toast.

Exercising, showering, and getting fully dressed (the icing on the cake!) all before my baby wakes up from her morning nap - that's worth a whole cheer routine because those productive mornings are awesome.

About three weeks ago, my mother-in-law introduced me to this special on Oprah whose message is one of the most simple out there: learn the tiny words your babe is using to speak to you, and then rejoice that you two can communicate.

I was a little skeptical at the theory, but, I cannot tell a lie - it's true! The simple baby words this amazing lady teaches in this video work when working with your little one.

I initially watched this about six times in a row to really understand the sounds she teaches, and the rest of my day was more than enlightening, if not a little overwhelming. That day Olivia had super burps - all I heard all day was "Eh! Eh! Eh!/ Burp me! Burp me! Burp me!" - but at least I knew what she wanted.

Now that I speak her language, Olivia really thinks that I'm awesome. Our days have been much much smoother since I've better realized what she needs. 

Motherhood - sure makes you appreciate the simplicities of life like this, eh? 

Enjoy!

26 days

I have been changing diapers for 26 days now. They're tiny diapers, that when all wrapped up, resemble squishy, disfigured balls. They're pretty cute.

Never thought I would consider a diaper to be "cute," but hey, I'm now a mother.

And I can hardly wrap my mind around that fact. During these last 26 days, my heart has felt the biggest mixture of emotions yet of its young life. Giving birth to Olivia - the grand finale of her gaining a body - was the hardest test of my physical strength that I have yet endured, and it was the most elevating, sweet experience that my spirit has yet felt.

Then, after that fleeting moment of welcoming new life into the world, I really became "mother" and the nurturing began. Day-by-day I have felt more and more that caring for my daughter's tiny body which houses her very big spirit is an honorable work. And yet, day-by-day, I have realized that this job is work. By "work" I don't mean that it's super hard to change eight diapers a day, or that laundering newborn clothes and burp cloths all week long is just so hard, because it's not. Thus far I have learned that the hard work of motherhood lies within the constant, endless, infinite demand to love.

That is the irony I've discovered in my short 26 days as mother: it is so easy to love your child incredibly much - I love Olivia to the point of bursting! - and yet that kind of all-encompassing, selfless, constant love has to be refueled. So the effort it takes to keep that unique type of love is the hard work. I pray for this love daily, and then I have to choose to be motivated by this love daily, because I have learned it really doesn't come to me that naturally. Mother Jeni is not always oh so patient, happy, and positive. Nope, not at all. I've cried just as many tears of frustration as I have tears of joy about all of this. But in the attempts I am making to meet my new demands with love, something beautiful is happening. My heart is changing for the better, and I am becoming (cannot emphasize the "becoming" part enough!) more like my sweetest Olivia: submissive, meek, willing to be taught, accepting of help, and eager to love without reserve.

Isn't she lovely?...just a few pictures from today on a whim - she was too darling after her diaper change to not capture. 

Yes, and my heart bursts for her more today than it did yesterday, and its capacity to perfectly love tomorrow will be even greater. I just know it.

Thank you, angel daughter, for helping me learn how to be a much better wife, sister, daughter, and friend by letting me be your mother.

xoxo for eternity, darling. 

my dad's motto

For me, new school years are as bittersweet as grapefruit. They are refreshing, sweet, and sour all packed into one burst. I haven't always felt that way about them. It wasn't until I moved to Santa Clara in 2005 that starting school again became less than purely exciting. I was 14 when I moved. Those first months were hard. Even though I seemed totally fine on the outside, for a while I cried day-to-day as I walked home alone. I cried those silent tears that fall down your cheeks like quiet rain against a window. Lonely and unknown, I was a new girl. I was an underdog.

Growing up, my dad used to tell us, "Be kind to the underdogs!" every time he dropped us off for school. That was his motto, and the best part about his preaching it to us was that he lived it. I grew up watching my dad acknowledge those people on the sidelines that seemed to be alone. However, it wasn't until I found myself feeling that way - totally alone in a new place, almost sinking beneath the weight of all the changes around me - that I learned what my dad meant when he said, "be kind."

All those years he meant, "Smile at someone who looks sad. Really smile. Ask how they're doing and really listen. Don't just say 'hi,' talk to them. Learn who they are."

Never did I grasp the importance of lifting the heavy heart of another until my own became terribly weighed down. Never did I learn how an underdog felt until I, myself, became one. And never, until then, did I learn that helping another feel divine is the way that you yourself feel truly happy.

Those underdog feelings come back to me with every new school year, as I think about someone out there that feels as scared and alone as I once did. I felt them this year and I didn't even start school. Just watching Ryan run off to his first day of the semester was enough to make me ache for that new, freshman girl on campus that is quiet, far away from home, and so unsure about almost everything. I cried a few tears for her, and then I prayed that someone would give her a smile - a real one.

Really smile, really listen, learn who someone really is.

Thank you, sweet Dad, for giving me a motto that I will teach my own little girl: be kind to the underdogs. 

a library memory

I was a freshman, it was still the beginning of fall semester, but midterms were already approaching. I was studying in one of the most inspiring, magical places of the library for me: the Periodicals.

This was the view ahead of me, from this very table. My view then was nearly the same - just add about ten other students scattered between the rest of the tables. All of them were either skimming a textbook, drooling on the desk, or looking bleary-eyed at their lapstop screen in front of them. 

This is what I saw to my side, but add about two more people in those black chairs. They were both sleeping, knees curled up to their chests and necks completely flopped to the side. Brigham stared down at me then just as he is in the picture, which at the time, kind of annoyed me because 

this was the thought that crowded my mind: 

"Bleh. College stinks." 

So negative, I know. I was already so overwhelmed with it all. Midterms approached, research needed analysis, reports had to be written, a quiz needed extra studying for, my stomach ached for real, good food...cereal was already old. 

Then, the switch flipped in my mind. I'm not sure what thought came that made me realize who and where I was - finally a legitimate college student at BYU, studying real-live research down in the Periodicals,  of all the beautiful places on this planet! - but the blues of college-life realities indeed left me. Once again, I felt that magical sense of being (or at least trying to be) a scholar and I was inspired to just keep going.

I was drawn downstairs to the Periodicals early on as a student. Its many bookshelves housed colorful bound books, printed with a font that looked so '70's to me - I thought of my parents and their time at BYU when I saw them. And the bookshelves - they moved! I remember seeing someone shift the shelves for the first time and thinking, "Okay Hogwarts...seriously? Am I really here? Is this really my library?" 

The whole atmosphere of the Periodicals amazed me. Studying in that section of the library always revamped my desire to really study and learn, especially after "waking up" down there that day in the fall of 2009.

So ode to one of my favorite places on campus: you're even brighter and more magical to me today than all those days before. 

(They are already remodeling and changing the places I loved on campus - hence the upturned tables - so I am glad to be capturing the BYU I knew while I still can!)