That Time I Quit Social Media For a Week

Monday night, last week, I shared a post to Instagram and Facebook declaring my intentions to take a week-long break from those platforms. I mentioned feeling apprehensive about it, because I often use Instagram as an escape when I'm feeling overwhelmed, and going into last week, I expected to be very overwhelmed. 

Here's what I knew about the upcoming week: The older kids had just gotten out of school for summer, Boss was headed out of town for work leaving Tuesday morning and returning Friday afternoon, and my sister was to start a training class on Thursday that would have her gone most of the day - and I'd already agreed to watch her three kids while she was gone.

For those reasons alone, I was kind of dreading the week. Little did I know what the week actually had in store for me. After I posted my intentions, I uninstalled Instagram and Facebook messenger from my phone and then went to bed.

I was woken early Tuesday morning, I had to drive Boss to work where he was meeting everyone he was traveling with. Not long after returning home I learned my daughter's glasses were broken and in need of repair, and I began to consider that with the other errands I needed to run before I was homebound with children on Thursday and Friday. I needed to visit Target, Walmart, and Costco - I figured we'd hit all our errands in one day since the three stores conveniently happen to be along the same street. So I wouldn't have to worry about lunch, I decided to take the kids to free lunch at the park before we got started. 

My picky children didn't eat much of their lunches, but they ate enough and they got to run around for a bit at the park with the friends and cousins who we ran into. But it was pretty warm that day, so we didn't stay long. I wanted to get back into the air conditioning of the van and to get our errands done. 

Of the three stores, Target is the farthest and Costco the closest, and because I was planning to get frozen things at Costco I thought it'd be best to start at Target and move closer to home with each stop. But we never made it to Target. 

As we made our way, I thought about the quickest way to do each stop with my 6 kids in tow. At one point I got so lost in thought that I didn't realize, until it was too late, that I was actually running a red light. I noticed the other car first and looked up to see my mistake just as we made impact. Shame and guilt and my nagging inner critic were very quick to fill my head with negativity. I apologized profusely to my children - now traumatized - and to the other driver, all but me, thankfully, unharmed. 

It took a moment after impact to realize the van was still moving.
I slammed on the break and did my best to steer, so we didn't hit tree or house.
I was startled to realize we ended up on the sidewalk.

People seemed to materialize, helping to keep track of and calm my children as we shakily made our way out of the van. Both my daughter and I lost our glasses in the impact, but my oldest was able to locate them for us. Police, firemen, and an ambulance arrived. The children were cleared by paramedics, most of their discomfort having to do with the trauma they'd just experienced.

Even though they were traumatized, they still enjoyed getting to see the emergency vehicles.
Plus, the firemen gave them all stickers and pencils! :)

I took the brunt of the impact, my left arm was bruised and banged up, my right wrist looked fine, but hurt badly to move it around, and I felt like I'd been punched hard on the left side of my back. It was recommended that I visit an ER for my injuries, which I waited to do until we'd gotten the kids home. At the ER, I had X-rays done which found no broken bones, something I'm very grateful for. Almost a week later I am still pretty sore, but it's gotten a little better every day. The van on the other hand, has been declared a total loss. 

They made me put on the dang hospital gown and hooked me up to all sorts of apparatus.

The visible injuries. These are all on my left arm.
The bruise from the first photo (top left) - on the underside of my wrist, has traveled down my arm in the days since the accident.
Top right shows the scratches on my hand and if you look close you can see the bruise that covered the top of my wrist and hand.
Bottom left, with my arm at a strange angle, shows the air-bag burn.
Bottom right is various scratches and bruises on the underside of my arm.

I later realized that Thursday - two days after this accident - marked 3 years since my last car accident, the one where I rolled our van on the freeway on my way to Phoenix from Flagstaff. And I will admit that this realization only triggered more personal shame, guilt, and criticism for having, once again, put my family in this position of being without a car at the beginning of summer. 

And that was just my first day away from Instagram. Granted it's been pretty chill since then, as I've taken it easy post-accident, but it seriously tested me in my resolve to stay off Facebook and Instagram. As of last night, though, I made it. It might well be the only victory of the week, but I'll take it. 

This Is a Problem

I'll start by saying that sharing this is really hard. I am so ashamed of what I'm about to show you, of what I'm about to say. But I feel like I need to do this, so I'm going to do it.

I have a bow addiction. Ha ha, yes, don't we all? No, seriously, this is a problem for me. Let me show you what bow addiction looks like:

Fancy Free Finery - 43 pieces

Collective Creations C - 15 pieces

Loved by Sophia Claire - 10 pieces

Poppy Mayflower - 20 pieces

Baby Bow Club - 34 pieces

Modern Piggy - 60 pieces

Wunderkin Co. - 20 pieces

The Modern Little - 16 pieces

Little Poppy Co. - 25 pieces

That's 243 bows. Wow, right? And that isn't even all of them. To be completely honest, there are already more on their way (some of which are winnings, but still), plus at least 20 more bows from other shops that I didn't even photograph.

I mean, it's a gorgeous collection, sure. But it's so much more than that. Some of the main things this collection represent are money we didn't have spent, secrecy, and lies. I've said so many times that I'd settle down or stop buying bows completely, but I keep doing it. Full disclosure, I actually bought another one while working on this post. Did that make you cringe? It made me. I told myself no, but then I saw that there was only one left, and suddenly there was this urgency. This is such a problem, I can see it, but I struggle to stop.

But let's back up a moment. This really starts with a story about a 14 year old girl who wanted to belong somewhere. A specific somewhere, to be honest. Junior high, as we all know, is a hard time. For me, it was when my elementary school friendships shifted, as my old friends found new friends and I didn't. Okay, that's not true. I did. But they weren't the "right" friends, they weren't the "popular" kids.

In junior high, we wore uniforms, navy or khaki bottoms and red, white, or navy tops. Even with that dress code, you could tell who the "rich" kids were. I wasn't one. I was in hand-me-down, ill-fitting clothes, and I didn't feel good about it. There was a part of me that just knew that if I only had better clothes, did my hair right, and looked the part, the "cool" kids would finally notice me, we'd start hanging out, and they would realize what an awesome person I was.

I was so sure this would happen that, even though I didn't have the clothes, I pushed away the people who did want to be my friends, because the "cool" kids would never notice me if I was seen with those losers. (Guys, I was a jerk. A soft-spoken, passive aggressive jerk.) I ended middle school with plenty of signatures in my yearbooks, but no real friends.

So, there I was, 14 years old, about to enter high school. My junior high fed into three high schools, two of the three got the most, but I was zoned for the third one. There were only a handful of kids from junior high that ended up at my high school, of that handful, I only knew a few. I was nervous, but I was also excited. This would be a new beginning for me. I just knew that I would get to that school and suddenly people would see me and know me and I would be in the popular group and have so many friends... It was going to be great, I could feel it.

Over the summer I earned some money from a few baby-sitting jobs. Pretty sure it was only, like, $50 - but at that time it felt like so much! I wanted to make a good impression, which I was sure meant having the right clothes and shoes, from name brands, like Roxy, American Eagle, Vans, and Etnies. I took myself to the mall one afternoon, feeling energized and confident as I walked into Roxy/Quicksilver, only the first in a list of stores I planned to visit, and began looking through the racks. But the more I looked the worse I began to feel. $50 was not going to go far in this store, but I had to buy from there! My future popularity depended on it! I would just have to pass on the other stores I'd planned to visit. I settled on a few items - like the shirt I'd wear on the first day as well as for my yearbook photo - took them to the cashier and said goodbye to my money. As I walked out of that store, I knew I'd made a mistake, but this idea that I was now assured popularity was louder, so I let it go.

I'm sure you can guess where I'm going with this. I wore the shirt, and whatever else I bought, but they did not thrust me into popularity like I'd hoped. I ended up kind of floating through high school, I made some friends, but it was nothing like I'd expected. It was really disappointing. It wasn't long before I fell into a deep depression. I tried to run from my problems by transferring schools sophomore year, but in some ways that only made it worse.

I went back to my original school for my junior year, determined to have a different experience. A lot of my actions were still motivated by the desire to belong, which fueled my depression, but I was also trying to figure out who I was. I cut my hair super short, and then kept cutting it shorter and shorter, because it turned out that I loved it. I started to be more adventurous in the clothes that I wore, and it turned out that I had an unconventional and eclectic style, and it brought immense joy to honor that. By senior year, I felt more confident in my personal style, and in who I was. I still had those desires to be popular, and I still struggled with depression, but focusing less on what I didn't have and honoring my personal style helped immensely.

And then high school was over. Life happened, a lot of life - good, bad, ugly - I found someone who loved me at my lowest and helped bring me back from a dark place, and I married him. This is the part where the fairy tale ends with "and they lived happily ever after", but that isn't my story. I went from 19 and married to a new mom at 20. These were things that felt right and good, but just because something is right and good doesn't mean it's easy. There were times that I regretted the choice to get married young. I thought about all the things I was missing out on, like how I've always wanted to live in a studio apartment in a beautiful old brick building in some city. These were the MySpace days, which allowed me a peek at what my old high school classmates were up to. Thanks to the digital age, high school no longer ends at graduation! And I take the fault there, because I chose to look at what others were doing and compare my life to theirs. We all know how good getting stuck in the comparison trap feels, right?

Then people started leaving MySpace for Facebook. I resisted for a while, MySpace got a little quieter, and didn't bother me as much. Eventually I left MySpace and joined Facebook. At first I felt this need to add all the people, especially people from high school, you know, because I was genuinely concerned and interested in their lives! *wink* It got to a point where I realized I was spending way too much time on the computer, I knew I needed a break. I think I took a month to go almost completely offline, save for online banking and the occasional email check. It changed my relationship with Facebook in a way, I could see how unimportant a lot of it was, and I was able to clean out my friends list to those who I actually had relationships with. I've not been perfect in that, but my previous breaks from Facebook have helped me not feel such a need to spend hours scrolling.

I'm sure you're wondering, what does this have to do with the bows? Let's get to that.

I joined Instagram a little over 4 years ago. First it was just another way to keep up with people I knew and share photos I'd taken, since it turned out that I really enjoyed photography and wanted to share it with the world. I started to discover other accounts, there are so many amazing photographers on there. I also started to see some baby products popping up, but because my baby was a boy, there wasn't a huge pull to those, since they were mostly geared towards girls (specifically bows).

Then I had a baby girl, and suddenly the world exploded and there were a million bow shops, each with gorgeous product. We didn't have a lot of money, but eventually the pull became to great - curse you Black Friday deals! - and I began to buy. I tried to be realistic, but these shops are constantly coming out with new fabrics and styles, and I kept throwing money at them, and putting these bows on my baby, tagging the photos, and hoping that they would be re-posted. When my photos were featured, it only fueled the fire, and when we got our tax return, it got bad.

Finding a special package in the mail brought such a thrill, and they were coming with frequency. Bit by bit, our return was dwindling. Suddenly we were preparing for a move, and I tried so hard to resist buying more bows or bibs or whatever, but it was hard to resist as each new release, sale, or special was right there in my face, taunting me from my news feed.

Here's where the shame comes in. I couldn't stop. I kept buying, and in my shame, I tried, still try, to hide it from my husband. Finances were tight before we moved, and they've been tight since, as well, but I've continued buying. We budget and plan, and then we run out of money and I blame it on his spending, even though I know mine is just as bad or worse. Real talk, and guys, so much shame right here, but we don't even have the means to get me in to see a dentist - something I desperately need to do as my teeth are in poor shape (I'm trying so hard to share, but the shame is still keeping it vague, it's really bad, though) - and I'm still ordering bows.

The big question is: WHY? I've thought and thought about this, and every time the thought that I come to is: I buy the bows, tag the shops in my photos, they share them on their feeds, and suddenly I'm discovered, more and more people visit my profile and see how amazing I am, and then they follow, and the number grows and grows, finally I'm popular. Not to mention that shops start sending me products for free, so that I can post about it! This is the fantasy world I created in my mind. But it's far from reality. In reality, I have had photos shared, and I have even received some free and discounted products! But I've also spent hundreds of dollars - I'm scared to find out the actual dollar amount of all my purchases - but it hasn't gained me the mass popularity my fantasy world claimed it would.

Yes, I've got an impressive collection of headbands for my baby girl, and a few for her big sister, but other than being really beautiful, they really don't do much. They're just things, but I've placed this huge importance on them. I've fallen right back into the trap that I did as a young teen, only this time I'm pimping out my baby daughter in the hopes that I'll get attention...? Why? What is the purpose?

Guys, I don't even know. But I do know that something needs to change. I need to change. This thought process that I've gotten stuck in is a fantasy.

I've heard and read that shame thrives in secrecy, and this mentality is definitely something that I've held tight to my chest, as I've held to the belief that if people knew the real me, all my flaws, failings, and shortcomings, they wouldn't like me. But all I want is to feel like I belong, to be seen, to be accepted for who I am. But how can that happen when I'm not sure who that is, who I am? I feel like senior year-me was the closest to knowing, but I'm so far from there, and I don't know how to get back to that place. Not back to that age or time, but back to that mentality of honoring myself and caring less about what others might think of me.

There are so many words here, I don't even know how to end this, and if you've made it this far, I'm impressed. I guess, I felt the need to share this in the hope that, if there is anyone out there who is going through something similar, this helps you to see that you're not alone. Lastly, I think I'll share some words with you that I need to hear, and maybe you do, too:

You are enough. Take away all the things that you think you need to be accepted, you're still enough. You are important, regardless of how many or how few friends or followers you have. You are loved, even at your worst. Your worth is not determined by your visibility online, your worth is inherent, unchanged by location, social status, or anything else. You are amazing and capable of so much. Don't waste your energy flailing about trying to get people's attention and drowning instead. You have everything you need inside of you. Go outside, listen to the birds singing, look at the stars, close your eyes, put your hand on your heart and breathe... You are here, you are alive, you are a walking miracle. Feel it, believe it, know it. Everything is going to be okay.

journal 3

We moved! After 6 years away we can call Utah (specifically Salt Lake County) home again. What a wild ride.

I was thinking about some other bloggers who've recently moved or are planning to in the near future, and started wondering what made them decide to do it? Of course, it's none of my business, I just get curious. I don't know why other families move to different places or why they end up living in the same city or house forever. But! I do have the inside scoop on my family and our various moves over the last decade.

(Dood, I've had my own little family for over a decade! Weird!)

Honestly, leaving Flagstaff to come back to Salt Lake was HARD. Not that life in Flag was a cake walk, because it wasn't, let me tell you. Flagstaff is a really hard place to live, it's expensive, it's full of things that make my allergies feel like I'm dying, it's isolated - so isolated. Also, our house was basically made of popsicle sticks and falling apart, Mr. Boss's job wasn't a good long-term choice for us financially, not to mention all the rotten car luck we had and blah-blah-blah... Plus, the nearest Costco was 2 hours away. (#priorities)

BUT! There was also so much good! First off, the people there are freaking ah-mazing. The community there, seriously. (💕) Some of the best, most selfless people I've ever met live in Flag. There is so much I could say about all of the wonderful people who live there, but it would make this already long post even longer. And I'd probably start to cry, so.

Other good things about Flag: it was completely gorgeous (esp. when it wasn't trying to kill me... #allergiessuck). We were surrounded by nature, and our view of the stars at night was unreal. I mean, I'd never seen the little dipper until we lived there, I'd never been able to spot it before, not even when I'd gone camping. Plus, I could watch meteor showers and get pictures of them without having to step one foot out my door. And, even though it wasn't really a great long-term fit, Mr. Boss really, really loved his job. And he loved that elk would walk through and poop right in our back "yard". Not because they were pooping, but because they were so close. And then there was that time we saw a coyote grab a prairie dog right from its burrow, Wild America style.

To be honest, I spent a lot of our time there complaining. I did try to appreciate it, but in the moment it wasn't really an easy thing to do. I'm ashamed to say I spent most of our time there wishing and praying to leave. Not that I wanted to leave all the great things behind, I only wanted to get away from the sucky parts. It was so conflicting, I wanted to get away and stay there forever.

Pit stop in Hatch, Utah.

So, yes. I prayed, a lot, that we could leave. But it didn't happen, didn't happen, didn't happen, and then it did. Suddenly I found myself feeling like "WAIT, I'm not done yet!" But it was too late. Then more conflicting feelings, because, GUYS, I was stoked! But also devastated. I kept asking, "can't I just pack my people into these boxes and take them with?? PLEAAASE??" I wanted to leave but also didn't.

I've dreamed of coming back to Salt Lake a lot over the past 6 years, but I've also been kind of afraid of it. Living outside of Utah was hard, different, weird, amazing, eye-opening, enlightening, life changing, incredible... What if I'm too different to live in Utah again, what if living away changed me too much and I don't fit anymore? Maybe it's silly to think that way, but there ya go.

I am mad at myself that it took us moving for me to realize how much I'd taken the amazing experience of living in Flagstaff for granted. It makes me want to go back and smack myself and tell myself to enjoy the heck out of our time there because it would be so short. But my time machine is broken. I guess all I can do going forward is try my hardest to make the most of our new home, neighborhood, ward, and state. (I mean, I grew up around here, so it's not really new to me but, hopefully, you catch my drift, and by you I mean me. You listening, Cris?!) 

So, here we go. Goodbye, Flagstaff. Thank you for the beauty, for the amazing people, for the memories we will treasure forever. (Just not the memories of how bad my allergies got. 😉)

And hello, again, Salt Lake, with your majestic mountains full of history and memories. It's good to be back.

journal 2

I'm having a hard time, and I'm afraid to speak up about it. I go through this thought process from time to time, when things feel so hard, where I think something like I have no right to feel like I do, because I wanted this, chose to be a mother, chose to have all these children. I chose this life. I made my bed and now must lay in it.

Baby Hazel brings so much joy, she really does, and I really feel like I could have a baby around all the time, but beyond babyhood, I feel as though I'm floundering.

I feel like any time a mother starts to talk about how she feels like she's totally failing in her calling, most people band together to build that mother's confidence, to help her see she really is doing the best she can and that that is enough. And that is wonderful. But I never have been able to believe it when those intended confidence boosters are sent my way.

Because I know how I really am.

I don't share everything. I still try to keep my struggles vague, because I feel so much shame for not doing better than I am. I feel shame for being so frazzled and overwhelmed, for tuning out for most of the day - especially on the really hard and stressful ones. I feel shame for how unkind and straight up cruel my children can be towards each other, and because I don't seem to know how to stop it.

I've struggled at times with feeling completely spent and burned out as a mother, I've had times where I thought I was getting better, and times where I get a burst of energy and try to do things to prove to myself that I'm improving (picnic in December, anyone?). But it always comes back, the discouragement, the overwhelm, the struggle to feel any bit useful and effective.

My home is a disaster, my children run amok, I'm either numb and tuning out or completely lose my temper and I shrink with the shame of it all.

I'm not sure why I'm sharing these things on my blog, I don't put up posts like this on Facebook. I guess that, even though there are people I know "irl" who read this, it still feels more anonymous than Facebook. And, for some reason, that sense of anonymity makes it feel slightly less frightening to spill out some portion of my struggles.

I don't like feeling this way, I feel like I'm completely on empty, running on fumes. My bucket isn't just empty, but turned upside down as every last drop escapes and evaporates.

I fell like I know the tools to use to help myself out of this, but sometimes it all just feels too hard.

journal - 1 // Happy New Year!

source.

2017 has arrived, whether you like it or not.

That might seem like a strange statement, but that's kind of how I feel about it right now. That is, I feel like the new year completely snuck up on me. It felt like time was traveling pretty normally, right until about the 1^st of November. After that it has felt like time suddenly and completely got away from me. I remember as we were talking about our plans for Thanksgiving, feeling as though we had so much time, but then it was the week of, and we were running to the store to pick up ingredients, but it all felt like a dream. Like, the world around me said it was Thanksgiving, and so I was behaving accordingly, even though it didn't feel like that could be true.

Then Thanksgiving was over and everyone was decorating for Christmas, but I wasn't feeling that either. I kept trying, I'd turn on Christmas music, I sort of decorated, but I just couldn't get there. I knew it was coming, everyone was talking about it, the stores and houses around town were covered in Christmas paraphernalia, but I felt unconvinced. When some people dropped by with an envelope with some money and the greeting of “Merry Christmas”, I made the executive decision to use the cash to purchase some decor. It was a week before Christmas as we put up and decorated our new tree, but it still only felt like I was going through the motions.

Christmas day came, and we had some presents (generously & anonymously donated) under our tree. I knew every other Christmas celebrating family was opening gifts, I knew my kids were excited and full of anticipation, but I still wasn't feeling it. So through the motions I went again, and then it was over. The next day, I took down the tree. Normally I want to leave the decor up forever, or at least until after the new year, but I wasn't feeling that at all. I wasn't feeling much of anything, really. I was completely indifferent.

The new year comes only a week after Christmas, and that week went by like any normal week. New Years Eve arrived feeling just like any other day. I knew it was different, because that is what everyone on social media was saying, but I wasn't feeling it. Normally, on New Years Eve, I'm feeling very reflective, and even emotional, as I prepare to say farewell to the old and welcome in the new. Normally, I feel that renewed spark of energy that comes to most people at the new year, the desire to set goals and that initial feeling of commitment and drive that helps most of us hit the ground running as the calendar turns to January, but as I woke up this morning, I still feel none of that.

I'm putting one foot in front of the other, I'm doing my best to complete some daily goals I made when baby Hazel was born, but I still feel this sense of time passing around me faster than I can handle. As the days progress, months change, holidays come and go, I feel stuck. I feel stuck somewhere right after Halloween.

I don't know for sure if this is some sort of postpartum thing. I don't necessarily feel depressed. I don't doubt that I struggled after Noah was born, I was aware of my inner turmoil and worked hard to conceal it, to appear like things were normal. I haven't felt those things I felt then. I felt, and feel, really great about Hazel's birth, I've been so excited to have her here. I love her so much, I love watching her as she grows, been so excited as she has begun to recognize me more, to smile, to coo, to laugh. I've been overjoyed to have another baby girl to dress up, soaking it all up as best I can. I don't feel any negative feelings in regards to her or her arrival, but overall I feel so stuck.

I'm not sure why, I'm not sure if I'll ever feel like I've caught up, or if I'll feel left behind forevermore. For now I'm just going to keep going through the motions and hope that things will eventually begin to feel right again.

some goodness

Zeke is an angel. When he hears me speak, he quickly turns towards me and pays full attention to me. Whenever he catches sight of me he grins the biggest grin, and his whole body shakes. I have never been a very self-confident person, but it is hard to feel anything but amazing when you've got someone looking at you like you are the world. That, I think, is my favorite part of motherhood.

We went to the library today, after Mr. Boss arrived home from work. He insisted that we go, so we went. I didn't really want to go, because we always borrow a stack of DVD's, and I feel like we watch too much TV. So, when we got there, I avoided the sections for movies. Instead I found a couple of cute books for the kids, and a couple of CD's for myself, one of hymns, the other...opera. (It reminds me of my dad, and I miss him. I wish California were closer.)

I began dinner preparations shortly after we got home (and, by "shortly after" I mean "after Zeke had a quick snack.") But, before I set to chopping up my veggies, I pulled out my CD player and stuck that opera CD in. Mr. Boss rolled his eyes when he heard the music begin. Gosh, at least I didn't play it as loudly as my dad would have, or as loudly as Mr. Boss plays his music. Anyway, I think he secretly liked it.

And, speaking of CD's, I've been thinking for a while that it is time I go through my own collection and get rid of most of them. It has been a hard decision to come too, especially because I really love a lot of the CD's I'm planning to get rid of. But, the truth of the matter is: I hardly ever listen to them, anyway. And I don't like the idea of the kids listening to them, either.
I've also been thinking I need to go through my book shelf again, even though I recently got rid of a bunch of books. I just keep thinking that there are still books on that shelf that don't need to be there.
I think there is something magical about this whole de-cluttering thing. I throw a few things out and it just makes me want to throw out more. The thought of having clean, empty space is so thrilling to me. I never thought I would say that. But there is really something so satisfying about getting rid of things you don't really need, and the empty spaces that are created as more things are taken away.

simplify

**Thanks for the nice comments yesterday.
And, yes, Natalie--that Grayskull. :) Glad you liked that.**

Lately I've been in the mood to throw things out. Not that I am feeling wasteful, I just feel this deep urge to seriously de-clutter and purge a lot of my "things".
I have always had a hard time throwing things out (aside from obvious trash like wrappers and such). I am one of those people who develop strong emotional attachments to things, even silly junk like a church program from a specific date, or a tiny strip of paper that I got sophomore year, it shows the only A I ever got in math (also known as my worst subject.)

I love this face I have always been pretty set, even happy, in my hoarding ways, but something is changing in me. I think it started when we moved here. We had cable at our last apartment, that was included in rent. The TV was on all the time. I stayed up late to watch, I watched all day, it was a problem. We didn't have that when we moved here. No cable or satellite system was included in rent and we didn't want to pay for it. Along with that, our TV wasn't picking up local channels, thanks to the DTV switch. We decided that it would be the best to go cold turkey.
In the first few weeks I hardly noticed. I was busy with un-packing and my two small children, and there wasn't really time to notice that something was missing. The TV was still, occasionally on, for movies, but the amount of time it was on had significantly decreased. By the time things settled down after the move, I didn't even notice what I was "missing" anymore. What I did notice was that my home seemed more calm and quiet. That is a great feeling, and to think, by having the TV on all the time before, I was missing out on this!
For several months I felt like that was enough, and I floated on the high I felt due to the quiet. But I've noticed recently that I am becoming restless.I feel like I am searching for more of that quiet. I've been realizing that I will find that quiet in the absence of all the junk I've been accumulating.

they sleep so silly I've been working myself into this mindset of simplify for a few months now. It began with my sheer annoyance and disdain towards loud, flashy children's toys. It was easy to get rid of those. That led to going through all of the toys, to weed out broken or neglected toys (something I need to do again.) Then I went through their clothes, preparing bags of clothes that they just don't wear, to be donated.
As I got rid of some of the kids junk I started to wonder how much of the baby gear that we had was really needed. Sure, I had a new baby coming, but I had never truly loved my infant tub, so I got rid of that. I never missed it either. Zeke bathed in the sink until he got too big, and now I just put him in the bath tub with a small amount of water. Another thing I'm trying to ditch: my waste of space and money (for refills) diaper pail. Just because I have a bunch of kids doesn't mean I have to be bogged down by loads of unnecessary baby gear.

he is such a sweetheart My big problem, now, is getting started. Even the small amount that I purged from the kids things was freeing. I felt motivated to go through my own clutter, then I opened my closet door. Yikes!
Wish me luck.

journal entry - July 23, 2005

In 2005, after graduating high school, my younger sister (then 8) and I took a trip to visit some of our family who live in the tropical paradise, Costa Rica. This summer many members of my extended family will be in Costa Rica, to celebrate my Abuelito's (grandfather's) 80th birthday. Because I can't be there, I thought I would go back and read about some of my experiences from my trip there 5 years ago. And I've decided to share some of my old journal entries with you.

I was just outside, thinking. In an email I wrote to mom, I mentioned the shortage of food here. She lamented. [Apparently they're in a similar boat] at home, because money's been tight. Well, while I was outside thinking, I [began to imagine] myself at home.
It's dark. Everyone is in bed. I sneak upstairs and look through the kitchen--no milk in the fridge, no eggs, no butter. No cereal in the cupboard, no bread. [What would we have for breakfast in the morning?]
I grab the keys that have the fresh values card, and hop into the Subaru and head to the store. While there I purchase 2 gallons of milk, a carton of eggs, cereal, bread, bisquick, butter, lunch meat, miracle whip and a few other items I deem to be essential. Afterward I take my purchases home and put everything away. Then I go back to my room to sleep.
Some days I think about taking Becca out to Wendy's, or something, to eat. Just me and her. Or I think about taking Stephanie wherever she wants to go, just to have a day together.
It is interesting to me...how being away from your loved ones causes you to appreciate them more. It deepens your love for them and let's you see just how lucky you are to have them in your life.

journal entry - July 4, 2005

In 2005, after graduating high school, my younger sister (then 8) and I took a trip to visit some of our family who live in the tropical paradise, Costa Rica. This summer many members of my extended family will be in Costa Rica, to celebrate my Abuelito's (grandfather's) 80th birthday. Because I can't be there, I thought I would go back and read about some of my experiences from my trip there 5 years ago. And I've decided to share some of my old journal entries with you.

This morning we all got ready and, after a few [hiccups], were off. Our plan: a picnic, waterfalls and a river to play in.
We stopped at the Bishop's house on our way, to invite him and his family to join us. As soon as they were ready, we left again, on our way to the falls.
When we got there I learned there was a bit of a hike to get to where we wanted to be (which was fine, because it was beautiful.)We found a spot and started playing in the water. Then we went exploring. We'd had all of our things on some picnic tables, with a good view of a waterfall, but found a better spot while exploring.After we'd moved our things we got to play in the water. Tio Randall, Sarah, one of the Bishop's daughters and I decided to cross the river and, once on the other side, I started to climb up a rocky, watery incline. At the top we found water just coming out of the ground. Randall told us that the water we saw coming from the ground was in it's purest state, then we all drank some.A while later we were by the waterfall, and we were all standing under it. That hurt! The water comes down so hard, it feels like giant needles falling into your skin and it stung! But it was so cool to stand under a waterfall!I also went behind the fall. There was only a small amount of space between the falling water and the rocks behind hit, but there was enough space to stand and see behind the waterfall. It was such a cool, fun day.

porcupine,

I dreamed that you came last night. I woke up in the morning to find you, tiny and curious, sucking on a pacifier and taking in the sights of our bedroom. Not long after I noticed you there I noticed that I needed you to nurse. It took me a moment to get you latched on, but we finally figured it out, and you ate happily.
Mom was here, sitting in a rocking chair, ready to hold you when you finished eating. As I admired your small features, noticing you looked so much like your big sister, I realized: I have no recollection of the birth! How could this be? How could I not remember something so momentous?
I asked mom about it, and she sort of beat around the bush. "Come on, mom, tell me. How could I have slept through this? What happened? I need to know the birth story." All I knew was that it was June 9th, and you were here. And mom didn't shed any light.
Then I asked your dad, and he started to tell me about it. He told me about being in the tub, and being at the hospital. I stopped him. "Why were we at the hospital? Was something wrong? Did we even try the home birth?" No, he tells me. We went straight to the hospital. "What?! Why? What happened to our plan?" Then he tells me how our midwife took him aside right away and said it would be the best thing.
I was confused, but I didn't get any more information from anyone. I kept thinking I needed to know what happened so I could write it down, but nobody else seemed to share my sentiment..

Later I was trying to introduce you to your big brother, "Conrad, this is Hazel. This is Porcupine!" but all that did was confuse him.

Then I woke up, for real, and you were still in my tummy. As wonderful as it was to have you here, I was glad you weren't. It would drive me crazy to not know what happened during your birth. It was a sweet surprise to find you in my bed, but I felt so helpless and confused as to how I could have no memory of such an event.
I want to be aware of the first moment that I meet you. And, when you choose to arrive, I will be.

39 weeks

**I had the best of intentions of getting this post up before noon. But, as it is prone to doing, life happened, which means my post didn't.
Also, my feet are so swollen right now, it's ridiculous. Along with that, I'm super tired. But I wanted to get this post up before I went to bed. Because I love you.

Yep, still here. Can't believe it's the end of May! Can't believe we are really to the point where we could meet this baby any day!

39 weeks
I had an appointment with my midwife on Friday. Thanks to Mr. Boss's new work schedule, he was able to come too. It has been so wonderful that he has been able to make it to as many of my appointments as he has. I love that he has the chance to hear baby's heartbeat, and hear my midwife say that things are going well.
It was especially nice that he was there this time, because of what happened while we were listening to the baby's heart. My midwife put the Doppler on my belly and listened for a bit. Then she asked Conrad (who insists on helping every time) to wiggle and move the baby. I had to help him a little, by grabbing his hand and pressing it firmly on my side. No sooner had we done so than I got the most prominent lump at the top of my belly. I assume it was a knee, and it was poking out so far.
Immediately I hear Mr. Boss almost shouting: "Holy moly!" All I could do was laugh. It was the strangest looking and feeling thing. I honestly, through three pregnancies, have never gotten that big of a movement, ever. It was amazing. Although it made me a little mad, too, because I thought I should record the kids helping with the heartbeat again, but decided not to. Shame, because that is some footage I would have loved to have and to share.For the most part, I only hear good things at my appointments. But there has been one negative that keeps popping up: the position of the baby. No worries, baby is head down (and has been for some time) which is most important. But, for the best kind of labor and birthing, baby's back should be up against mama's belly. My baby's back is more towards my back, otherwise known as a "posterior position."
Posterior babies aren't a huge problem, except that their positioning can effect labor negatively, by giving the mother painful back-labor, and making contractions kind of weird.
To know my baby's position now is helpful, though, because there are a few positions I can try to get baby to turn. The aren't exactly the most comfortable things to do, but are definitely better than back labor. There is one position that I do the most, as I feel it could be the most effective. (The position being me with my bum in the air, back slanted and face against whatever surface I choose to attempt the position on--generally my bed, for at least 30 minutes.) I did it a couple of nights ago and was pretty sure, afterward, that I could feel baby's back through my belly. I was happy about it, until the next morning, when I realized most of the movements I was getting indicated baby's back had turned to my back. Again.
I tried again last night, but didn't feel a change after 40 minutes. I'm going to keep trying, but it seems this baby is kind of stubborn. Hopefully, by the time baby comes, my repeated efforts to turn him/her will result in a submission to my desires. The last thing I need is a stubborn baby.We bought a new car seat on Saturday. We now have a total of 4 car seats. One is the traditional infant car seat, with the base that stays in the car. The other 3 are convertible car seats, two of which I know for sure can be used as a booster (as for the third, I can't recall for sure how long it can be used. I only know it can be used longer than the traditional infant seat.)
Both Conrad and Ellie used the traditional infant seat and, even though it is only three years old, it is visibly worn from the two who have used it. I feel it would still be safe to use, but we'd have to buy a seat upgrade eventually, so we just took care of it now. (With a big thanks to my mom, because she paid for it.)
This morning, with the help of my younger sister (who had stayed the night), I got the seats installed into our back seat. It was a huge pain, but our back seat is now officially
crowdedloaded with safety seats.
Our car is ready for this baby.I've got to say, now that I officially know that this baby is a June baby, I am that much more ridiculously excited. I can't even begin to tell you how much I have always dreamed of having a June baby. (Like, since I was in high school.) I am really happy that my dream is finally coming true!
I am ready to meet this baby, whenever baby is ready, of course! Boy or girl, I'm thrilled. But as a way to prepare for either outcome, I have purchased both a newborn boy and newborn girl outfit. (Regardless of where a baby is born, they always need a first outfit!)
Now we're just playing the guessing game: when will baby come?

Want to play the guessing game?

Take a shot at guessing
baby's gender, weight and birth date!
(There's a prize in it for closest guess(es)!)

39 weeks

thursday thoughts

It is 10:00 pm. Mr. Boss left for his overnight shift about 15 minutes ago. He has been home since Monday. For me it was a pro, concerning his new position. For him it was more of a con. Not because he doesn't love spending time with his family, but because he felt extremely unproductive, and that frustrates him. He's a mover and a shaker, and doesn't really like all of this sleeping late, home all day stuff. (In that sense we are polar opposites!)

Because he had to work tonight I made sure he was able to sleep late this morning. When he got out of bed at 12:30 he was fidgety and antsy, so he jumped on my suggestion to go to Costco. If only to be out of the house. After we got home we spent a lot of time outside. For a while we let the kids run around, then Mr. Boss got an idea. He put fresh batteries in Conrad's RC Mustang, and took the kids out to drive it in the road a while. (I love living on a quiet street!)

Conrad loved getting to drive his little car on the road, even though he's not the best driver. He crashed his poor car into the curb several times before we had to put it away.

After that we started on dinner, (which required our small grill for the second evening in a row.) After dinner we cleaned the kids and got them in their pajamas. I was surprised to find them outside, in their jammies, a short time later. My kids love to be outside, and being out while in jammies seemed to be a novelty. They ran around our front lawn and giggled for a while, before settling in the front doorway.

Shortly thereafter, we headed inside and back to their room to finish our bedtime routine. (Teeth brushed, family prayer, bedtime "song", and tucked in babies.) After I put their tooth brushes away I tried to gather everyone to kneel around the foot of Conrad's bed. While we waited for the kids to make their way over to us I rubbed the back of Mr. Boss's head.

As I ran my fingers through his freshly cut (by me!) hair, I noticed something strange. I didn't believe it at first, but, upon closer inspection, couldn't deny the reality of my find. I actually gasped, which made Mr. Boss a bit nervous. He thought I'd found something horrible, like a tick. It definitely wasn't that bad, but it was still shocking to me.

I found a white hair mixed in with all of his brown. He didn't seem to mind, but he didn't seem to believe me either. To prove it to him, he allowed me to pluck it out. As I showed him he acted like it was no big deal. "It's only one." he said nonchalantly.

I didn't respond, but thought to myself It starts with one, and before you know it there's another and another, until they've taken over. I didn't say it out loud, because I figured he'd call me dramatic, or something. Either way, I've found this white hair to be rather humorous, and in need of documentation. (For which he thinks I'm silly. Which is probably true. But I don't mind.)

a special day

As I mentioned on Tuesday, I get very excited about my birthday. But growing up in a family with 7 siblings meant that birthday parties and big celebrations were rare. (Cake and a few presents with the family was standard.)
The chance of a party seemed to diminish even more the older we got. This meant, if I wanted something special done, I had to do it myself.
Most years were disappointing. I'm not the best planner, and things just never really worked out. But, as my 19th approached, I decided I wanted to do something big. An over-night camping trip in Moab with a group of friends was, in my mind, the perfect way to celebrate the first day of my last year as a teenager. My plans were big and my hopes were high.
The problem was, having never been to Moab, I didn't know where we could camp, or what the cost would be. My darling boyfriend, Mr. Boss, suggested he and I take a day trip to scout for potential camp grounds.
We decided to go on the Saturday that fell exactly 2 weeks before my birthday. We packed a few snacks, but decided we'd find lunch on the road. We left around 6 or 7 am on March 25th. We had already informed our families of our adventure and we had our phones with us, fully charged, in case of an emergency.
The drive down south was fun. We were both in light and playful moods and just enjoyed each other's company, as well as the scenery along the way. I always thought I knew how beautiful Utah was, but this trip really opened my eyes to gorgeous sites and scenes I had never seen before.
Not in any rush, and not really knowing the best way to go, we ended up taking the long way. We finally made our way into the quaint town of Moab around lunchtime. By that point we were nice and hungry, and we quickly found a good looking diner to take our midday meal.
After lunch we set out in search of camp grounds. We were looking for anything free/very inexpensive, since we didn't want our friends to have to drive through most of the state only to pay an arm and a leg for their one night stay. Unfortunately, the only places we found (having done no research before hand) were just too much.
We eventually found ourselves at Dead Horse Point, and it was there that I began to realize my Great, Moab Birthday Campout was likely not going to happen.
With this realization our focus shifted and our moods changed from playful to serious. Inspired by the beauty before us, we began to talk God and religion. Our beliefs, though they stem from the same source, are somewhat different from each other. Along with that I was at a time in my life in which I was confused about whether or not I fully believed the things I was taught as a child. At the same time I found myself clinging to those beliefs, as they were the only thing I'd ever known.
I wasn't so much that I was questioning my church, (which is how it came across,) as I was questioning how a loving God could allow bad things to happen to good people.
We discussed things that I had learned from the church my childhood and youth and things he had learned from and about his family while he was growing up. He told me things that he had been taught that didn't match what I had been taught, and I had a hard time agreeing with him. Through our deep discussion we never really reached a point where we were seeing eye to eye, but something else happened.
Our conversation had moved from the Dead Horse Point visitors center, to his car in the parking lot (for more privacy,) to the grounds around the lot. As we walked and discussed a very different thought entered my mind. It was a passage from a book I'd read recently, and I had the very clear thought that I was to use that passage in that moment.
The thought completely side-tracked me from our conversation, so I interrupted it to ask Mr. Boss if he would please pick out a shrub. He was puzzled by my request, but complied after I asked him again.
The shrub he picked was a small, yellow thing that was just a few feet from us. I led him over to it, and then I leaned in toward the shrub to say "Hello, little shrub. We have just gotten engaged and you're the first one we've told!"
The strange thing about my comment was that we were, in fact, not engaged. Moreover, we had already discussed at one point that, if we were to become engaged, it wouldn't be until we had been dating for at least a year. At this point the length of our courtship was just shy of 3 months. Still, that thought I'd had was so clear and, strange as it seemed, I had to act upon it.
To my utter surprise, the moment I finished my comment to the shrub, Mr. Boss was grabbing me by the shoulders, turning me to face him. He looked at me for a moment with a dumb-founded, confused and yet agreeing look on his face. We stood there for a short moment, his hands never leaving my arms, his eyes locked onto mine, and then he spoke.
"Criss...will you marry me?"
My comment to the shrub aside, I was a bit taken aback by his proposal. The air was thick with questions and an approaching storm. I stared at him for what felt like hours before I managed to mumble out my response.
"Yes."
Our conversation from before was then resumed, but everything had changed dramatically. We were no longer discussing how our beliefs differed, rather we were talking about the similarities. As we talked we both felt a presence. We both brought up our grandfathers who are no longer with us, and we felt an air of approval as we discussed who they were and how much we miss them.
Our time at Dead Horse Point is one of my most cherished memories, it is one of the most incredible, albeit unexpected, moments of my life.

We chose to keep the events of our trip to ourselves for a time. We eventually shared the news on May 14th (Mother's day that year,) after Mr. Boss had the chance to officially ask my dad for permission to marry me.

food for thought

There is something incredible going on right now. To some it may seem small, to some it is a burden, to me it is a miracle.
There is a baby growing inside of me! A kicking, squirming, rolling, dancing, sweeping, punching, gliding, fluttering, precious baby. In me!
It constantly amazes me, that my body is able to create (with some help), sustain and carry another living being. I am in awe that my body knows how to sustain this life, how it knows what to do when it is time for the baby to emerge and join the world. It is all so spectacularly fantastic.

Sometimes, on the really hard days, I wonder: "What was I thinking?!" On the days when Conrad's whining is constant and the messes are never clean and there's screaming and shouting and enough tears to fill an ocean I think, maybe, I was a bit hasty to think it was time for a third. I feel sorry for myself, and I wonder how I will manage without losing my mind...
Then, I go in to check on the kids sleeping soundly in their beds. They each have a peaceful, angelic countenance. They both have managed to contort their bodies into strange positions and I laugh silently to myself. They are beautiful, and I feel my heart swell with a mixture of joy and love. I just want to grab them out of their beds, but don't because I don't want to disturb them either. I find myself thinking "This is what it's all about." It is in those moments I realize I can do this. I can handle the tantrums and the tears, so long as I get to tuck my kids in at night, and see their sweet sleeping faces, I can do it.

Sometimes, when I'm lying in my bed, trying to get comfortable while my mind races a million miles a minute I think "What have I gotten myself in to?" I can hardly bend over these days, and I have the hardest time getting comfortable on the couch and in bed. Heartburn and reflux are ever present. My back aches and I can hardly pick up my kids without feeling like my midsection might explode.
But in the quiet, still moments, when I'm not even thinking I feel it. A kick. A push. A tiny hello. Immediately I stop feeling sorry for myself, instead turning my attention to feeling and watching as my belly jumps here and there. How can I feel bad when this is going on in my body? How can I not feel anything but gratitude for the opportunity I have to experience this blessing?

Sometimes I feel bad about myself. I get down on myself, I think my life is imperfect. I get frustrated that we don't have very much, and that all the work that I constantly do is towards a job that is never done.
But. There is always, always, something that reminds me of how blessed I am, of how much I really do have. I may not have a perfect life (and, let's be honest: who does?), but I don't want perfect. I like the messy and loud and chaotic life I live, because it helps me to have more gratitude for the quiet, peaceful, happy, miraculous moments.

We can all have a good
greatwonderful life. It just depends on what we choose to focus on.

doing my homework

Just working on my assignment for Travelin' Oma's School Days seminar. (Day 1 of week 10.)

Your best friend just called and said, through her tears, "I know you've had experience with ________. What did you do?" What would she be calling you about? Answer her question in a note.

I don't have a best friend, and I don't really think, at 22 1/2, that anyone would call me in tears to ask my advice about something, because I don't think I've experienced much yet.
These were my thoughts this morning, but I finally decided that, if someone were to call me like the above scenario, it is likely that the advice they would be seeking would have something to do with pregnancy or birth. I do not consider myself an expert, I have only had two babies so far (although the number will change soon enough.) But I had my babies before many of my high school friends have started their families, and I'd like to think that someone might find my experiences useful.

My friend (we'll call her Clara) called me in tears. The newness and initial excitement of learning she was pregnant had worn off leaving her nervous and scared for the unknown or, rather, the overly known. Too many women are in the habit of sharing dreadful and frightening birth stories with women who they learn are newly pregnant. It is a horrible tradition that replaces excitement with fear, and occasionally some regret. That was the case with Clara.

"You've had experience in this department," she sobbed. "What did you do? Were you scared when you found out you were pregnant? You always seemed to be so together, like you knew what to expect--even with your first. How did you do it?"

Sadly, I was unable to talk with her, as my rascals were tearing the house to pieces. And I figured it'd be easier to say what I wanted to say if I wrote it down. As soon as I put the kids down to nap I got started.

Dear Clara,
There are so many reasons why you can still be excited about your pregnancy. You are growing a life, a new person, inside of you. Your body is doing amazing things to protect and sustain this life. You'll get to hear heartbeats and feel movements from within. It is incredible!
I am sorry if someone out there told you their horrific birth story. But not every birth is the same. You'll likely only hear about the awful ones, because they make better stories.
-My best advice in that arena is to avoid those stories like the plague, or swine flu. If someone tries to tell you a new one ask them not to, and if they don't listen walk away. Their experience will not be yours.
-Take a birthing class. We didn't take one with Conrad, and ended up not knowing what to expect. I had ideas of how I wanted things to be. It was to be quick, done naturally, easy. This was not the case, and I blame it largely on the fact that we hadn't prepared ourselves. We did take a class before Ellie was born. Even though we had been through the song and dance before I felt we'd do much better with some more knowledge. (And sure enough, it paid off in the form of a much quicker, completely natural--read: unmedicated--birth.) There are a few different classes offered these days, you can pick from Lamaze, the Bradley method or HypnoBirthing. Personally, having tried it, I highly recommend HypnoBirthing. The literature is inspiring and eye-opening, and the only birth stories you see or hear are about calm and peaceful births (doesn't sound a thing like what you normally hear, does it?)
-Be educated, but don't overdo it. You don't need to read every single pregnancy or parenting book or magazine. Find a few that share your hopes and ideas for how you want things to be, and stick with that.
-Make sure your OB or midwife is on board with what you want out of pregnancy, and especially the birth. If something your care provider says doesn't sit right with you, don't be afraid to find someone new who will be more accommodating.
-Be happy. Through sickness and overwhelming tiredness, aching joints and growing belly, you are carrying a life inside of you. A precious spirit, a gift from God. If you want it and will it to be good, pregnancy (and birth) can and will be good.
Hope this helps,
Crissy

a better place

I want to set the record straight. This may be the millionth time I've said this, but I feel it needs to be said at least once more.
Not only do I want, but I intend to have at least 10 children.
I have found great joy in motherhood and pregnancy.
I feel in my heart and in my soul that a large family is what is meant for me.
I feel sad that I find myself defending that so often.

About a week ago I had a chat with a friend where we came to realize two important things which, if embraced by everyone, would make the world a much, much, much better place.
1. We need to cut prices on everything.
2. We need to quit being so judgemental.
The price-cut seems pretty self explanatory: cut prices and people will buy more because they can afford to. Economy fixed. (I know, I'm amazing.)
It's that second one I really want to focus on.

When I began this post I mentioned my desire for a large family. I'm just guessing, but when you read that one of two thoughts came to your mind. You either reacted positively ("That is awesome! Kudos!"/"Good for you!") or negatively "The world is over-populated."/"But there are so many kids who need to be adopted."/"That's pretty dumb.")
Either way you made a judgement. And, regardless of whether it was positively or negatively, you think differently of me.

It seems like, when it comes to children and how large or small you want your family to be, there are always going to be negative opinions.
--Just want one kid?
People think your child will be a "freak" because he didn't have a sibling to interact with.
--You've been married for several years, but don't yet have children?
People wonder when you're going to get started or why you don't adopt or if there's an infertility issue (and sometimes they say something horrible to you about it, like "Oh, you don't have any kids yet? Well who is it who has the problem?")
--You want a large family?
People tell you to adopt, that the world is already over-populated, that you're insane.

These are all horrible things, and yet (I'm fairly sure) we've all thought or said something negative about someones lack of, or excess of, children.
Why? Why is it so important? What makes us, as human beings, think how others chose to live their lives and grow their families is any of our business?

I want to share some hypothetical scenarios.
Example 1: Your neighbor down the street may not have children due to infertility. You don't know because that is a private struggle. Still, some throw sand in the wound by suggesting they have a problem, or that they adopt. Maybe they choose not to adopt because they still feel like they have a chance to conceive on their own.
Example 2: You meet a family at the park who only has one child. This child is, say, 6 or 7 years old. You don't know of the difficult pregnancy the woman had just to have this child. You also don't know that they have tired to have another but have been meet with heartbreak in the form of miscarriages and/or a still-birth.
Example 3: The Duggar family in Arkansas. Just tell me you haven't thought or said one negative thing about them and their choice to have as many children as they could.
Example 4: A couple who has been married for 8 years does not yet have children. They have both finished school and are focusing on their careers. They plan to start a family, but don't feel like it is time yet. (I will admit, I have regretfully passed my own judgements on this group of people.)
There are so many different scenarios, and each one comes with a different string of negative judgements.
But wouldn't we be happier if we just minded our own business, and let others live their lives how they want, and not how we think they should? Shouldn't we just focus on doing what we think is right, instead of trying to force our ideas on every person we meet?

We pass judgement on:
-Family size
-Sexual orientation
-Mothers working
-Mothers staying home
-The wealthy
-The poor
-Drinking/smoking/premarital sex vs. Sobriety/abstinence
-Political parties
-Different races
-Cultural traditions
-Nursing vs. Bottle-feeding
-Public vs. Home-schooling
-The way people dress
-What side of the bed someone sleeps on
-What cereal someone chooses
-How often someone uses the restroom

I'm getting ridiculous because that is what it is.
Teach your families, your children, to believe in what you want. Teach your families to have strong values. But while you're at it, teach them to be kind. Teach them to love everyone. Teach them that it is OK to have friends who believe something different. It's okay to have friends of different colors. Teach them that everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and teach them that some of their best friends will have opinions that will differ greatly from their own. (Those are the best friendships, because each person brings something new and different to the table.)
Most of all, teach them not to harshly judge (though small ones are sometimes necessary), because it seems being too judgemental makes it hard (like close to impossible) to be a truly happy person.