Some commentary from my Dad about my “formula for happiness” had me thinking more about it.
I was writing in a hurry at the time and just threw it out there. I do that a lot and sometimes regret it. My thoughts just sort of spew into the keyboard and what comes out is sometimes intelligible, sometimes not, sometimes coherant and sometimes pretty scattered. Especially when I’m in moods like this.
OH!
And that reminds me! If you have little kids and you let them watch movies, you might have fun with Rob Gardner’s
12 Princesses
Click here!
- or you might more than have fun. You might completely fall in love with it like I did. It's a "test movie" which means it's still in storyboard form and the soundtrack isn't quite as polished as a "real" movie would be -- (but you might not notice that part). Even unpolished, that soundtrack is SO great! Seriously!
I technically like this movie better than -hm, think think- yeah, pretty much all the more recently-made Disney movies. My kids didn't mind the story-board format at. all. and I'm guessing most kids won't. They get to use their imaginations a wee bit. The script, the voices, the songs, it's all solidly made and good, clean entertainment.
What was I talking about?
Something about my formula for happiness and my spontaneous, scattered style of writing.
And, you know, the baby REALLY needs to go back to sleeping through the night again. Those 2 weeks of all-through-the-night had me feeling so good I could almost remember what I was like before I had children. You know - the person who was debilitated by pregnancy hormones or zombified by sleep-deprivation. That person? I think she's got potential to be pretty awesome and maybe you'll get to meet her some day.
Maybe. It's possible this stage of life might last forever. I know, I know, they say it slips by quickly. Over before you know it.
Mm-hm.
That's only because the sleep deprivation keeps you from forming enough concrete memories to truly remember how. long. it. lasts. once its over. Which is why I blog.
What was I saying?
Right.
Formula for happiness.
Thinking about it after posting it for all the world to evaluate, I felt a little unsure.
Happiness = Realistic Expectations + Proper Priorities
Was that totally off-base? Do I need to elaborate? Was it more complicated than it needed to be? If your priorities are aligned properly, you can probably skip that bit about expectations. I threw it in there because, for me, I get this perfectionism streak that can ruin an otherwise lovely time. Grr. I hate it! I set hoops WAY too high for myself (or my kids) and then am devastated when those hoops aren't... made? Shot? Hooped? Jumped through? Are we talking basketball or about dogs jumping through hoops?
Was that the right analogy? No idea. See? Sleep-deprivation in action.
If I can curb that desire for achieving the impossible, if I can get a firm grip on reality, everything is easier. Parenting. Spouse-ing. House keeping. Cooking. Living.
2008
Poor Creativity.
I was trying, but...
I hadn't figured this out when she was little and it was rough going to say the least. You mean two year olds can't control their tempers all the time?
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Three year olds can't either? Especially when tired or hungry? Huh. Go figure! A Mommy who thinks they should may find it hard to control her own.
Realistic Expectations
That is probably one of the most useful and most often-used lessons from motherhood. Perhaps most often relearned, too.
Now, when my two year old doesn't feel like doing something I've asked him, I can shrug it off. It's nothing personal - He's too little to be able to let go of something he's fixated on. It doesn't mean he's a rebellious trouble-maker destined for a life of crime.
Happier moments make this all worth it.
Clearly, the ball has his attention. Trying to get him to put his shoes in the basket is going to be an effort in futility. Now, putting the *ball* in the basket might work. And then mentioning that the shoes want to be in the basket too... Yeah, that might work. Make it a game and a 2yo will happily going along with it. (usually)
Or -I know!- I could just nag, get mad, and pitch a fit equal to his. Take the ball. Coerce him into performing the shoe-putting-away-chore. Hardened criminal.
Cuz that sounds like fun don'tcha think?
Yes, I am convinced that a big part of good parenting has a lot to do with realistic expectations. As the kids grow, my expectations need to change to match where they are. Still trying to strike a balance in that regard.
And Proper Priorities -
Proper priorities means being centered on Christ. What would He want? What would He think? How would He feel? If I loved that 2 year old like Jesus does, how would I treat him? Or that baby. Yeah, the one that has been keeping me from getting a decent night's sleep lately. The very same.
Babies cry. Get over it.
So.
I guess I should just *expect* not to sleep, and remind myself that
(a) Babies still need love even if their mommies are tired.
(b) Opportunities for cat-naps should not be squandered on dinking around on the computer, and
(c) Just go to sleep as early as possible instead of staying up late watching 12 Princesses -again- and blogging about it.
Oops. Chances for happiness tomorrow are dwindling.
Nincompoop.
{ 6 comments… read them below or add one }
Bahhaa.
This is part of my hugest problem with Toby by the way. I have no idea what to expect from a four year old boy and it gets me in trouble all the time. I have only just figured out that when he eats a lot of sugar or is hungry he’s going to be terrible (I KNOW I AM SO STUPID) but sometimes it’s a total crapshoot. Sometimes if we stay home all day he’s perfectly happy but other days if we are home all day he tries to kill me.
It’s really too bad I can’t have more kids because I feel like after Toby I would be a freaking expert.
I think we need to come visit you. I am missing the ocean like you wouldn’t believe. Except if I do come over I expect you to get rid of all spiders, creepy crawlies, and anything with more than 4 legs. Or any antennae.
awwwwwwwwwwwwwww *hugs* I hope you get some great sleep soon!
Man, I miss you. Man oh man oh man.
And I know that non-sleep deprived you. And, she is destined for wonderful-ness. Even in her sleep deprived state.
Not that wonderful-ness is even a word. But in MY sleep deprived state, I fear this is the best I can do…
At least the bad part of this teething episode is over. Sigh.
I miss you. Oh wait, I said that already. Yet, it bears repeating because it is true. And, sad of sadness, your birthday card is going to be late…’cause I haven’t mailed it yet. Drat.
Okay, enough rambling. Although, you know, I could go on forever…
Well, all I have to say is that the life of a fairy is ever so very extraordinarily hard…sometimes.
Unless you eat the eclairs! 
I think you are almost to hit on your solution–when you get beyond tired and so exhausted, you can get to the “punch drunk” part and nothing will bother you!
Miss you!
When I first read the title of this post, I thought you were pregnant.
One of the hardest things to do is let go of unrealistic expectations. I don’t even know where they come from, but getting rid of them is one of those things I have practiced and tried to do–and I’m still besieged by them every day. Perhaps I struggle more with having ideals (you know, like the one where we discuss the scriptures together at family scripture time, instead of me barking every other verse for so-and-so to close the book [*not* the scriptures] or stop poking so-and-so or pay attention) and not realizing many (any?) of those ideals. I love that talk by Elder Bednar (More Diligent and Concerned at Home, I think) where he talks about each act as an individual brush stroke; in order to make a beautiful work of art, you need a lot of brush strokes. Sometimes I just have to sigh and say, “Brushstrokes,” to myself.
For what it’s worth, I think you are an amazing mother. Keep on truckin’!
I hear you, sister! “Stop yelling at each other and listen to me!!!” hahaha…. One stroke at a time. I love that – I’ll have to look up that talk, even if the very word “diligent” kinda hits my guilt-button.