I love peanut butter and honey sandwiches. Robbie thinks they are gross, and my friend Lauren likes to laugh at my method of eating them. Oh yes. I have a method. You see, it is not enough to merely take two slices of bread, smear peanut butter on both sides, squeeze a little honey on the peanut butter and smash the two slices together. No. I like to take the ENTIRE loaf of bread in one hand with the honey clasped between my thumb and index finger of the same hand. I place the HUGE jar of peanut butter under my arm and hold it into my side with my elbow. With a butter knife on my plate that I grasp in the peanut butter hand and a tall glass of milk that I hold against my body-somehow-usually with my forearm of the honey hand squished against my belly-I carefully walk (roll step for those experienced in marching band) to a comfy chair in front of the TV. I carefully arrange the plate on my lap with the rest of the ingredients placed on a TV tray to my side. I open the loaf of bread and pull out one slice. I smear peanut butter on the slice, pour honey onto it, fold it in half, and eat. And eat. And eat. When I was in college, half a loaf would be demolished in no time. Now, I eat about 4-5 slices or 2-2.5 sandwiches before I get full. It's probably still enough peanut butter and honey to feed a small army, but hey, I'm still eating for two right? (Breastfeeding, people, breastfeeding)
Before I enjoyed my lunch, I said a prayer and read scriptures. Now why is this such a big deal? Honestly, it has been several weeks since I dropped to my knees to say a prayer. Oh, I'll say little prayers in my heart all the time, and we have family prayer every day. But I have not given myself an opportunity to say an honest-to-goodness, drop down on my knees, prayer. I allow myself blogging time or facebook time, but prayer? Not so much. I still don't understand WHY this happens. If prayer is SO important to me, why do I treat it that way? Maybe the same reason I'm meaner to my sweet husband than I would ever DREAM of being to anyone else. I'm not saying that I'm mean to him all the time, but I have my unfortunate moments. I really WANT to say my prayers everyday. Don't I? At least I think I do. But...I. Still. Don't. I don't understand it, but today I just decided, after folding a load of diapers and putting them away, that, right NOW, this VERY MOMENT, I have TIME to pray! I dropped to my knees and said a prayer to our Heavenly Father.
It wasn't earth shattering. I heard no angels singing and had no revelations. I was just thanking Him for my wonderful family and other rich blessings that He has given me to enjoy. In fact, I had to cut my prayer short because suddenly I heard, "This is a number THREE, boop boop boop," from the little toy Lily scooted to while my eyes were closed. But...
I did it. I said a real prayer today, and that makes me happy.
I decided to be even more ambitious after my prayer and read two chapters in Leviticus. Again, nothing earth shattering, but I did it. And that makes me happy. It has been a goal of mine to read the entire Old Testament from cover to cover. It. Is. Hard! But I will do it.
Hopefully I can do this again tomorrow. I don't see any reason why I can't, but there has never been a reason I couldn't before. I just don't. I have gotten out of the habits I set for myself long ago. I am bold enough to admit that my prayer and scripture study habits have not been what they used to be since I got married. All of a sudden I have to share my space with another human being, and I haven't quite figured out how to manage my personal time. I'll get there.
I'm choosing not to beat myself up right now. I am extremely good at verbally abusing myself, but at this very moment, I don't see any good it does. This is not to say in an hour, I won't go back to saying mean things to myself, but RIGHT NOW, I am going to forgive myself for my imperfections. I am going to forgive myself for being late to church every week since Lily was born. I should have the hang of this by now, right? She's five months old! Well, I don't. Oh well. We'll get it. I'm going to forgive myself for being too ashamed to go in the chapel after showing up late to church. AGAIN. At least I have an "excuse" (I like those) for missing Sunday school all the time. I'm feeding Lily. Sometimes I make it to Relief Society. I don't allow myself to enjoy it as much because I am usually beating myself up for missing so much of church already. For right now, I am forgiving myself for ALL of that. This is not to say that, come Sunday, I won't be feeling like a horrible person because I just couldn't peel myself out of bed until 7:45 even though I KNOW I need to get up at 7:00 in order to make it on time.
I suppose this is not really a post showing my faults as a member of the church (I have too many to count) but more about trying to conquer the negative self talk. It is not easy. Anyone who knows me knows that I do this. The object of my negativity has been my church attendance and membership lately. When I was in college, it was my flute playing. Now that I'm a mother, it's my housekeeping, cooking, church attendance, motherhood, and spouse skills. I worry about my stretch marks and belly pooch.
Why do I worry so much? Why do I so quickly and easily beat myself up. And why, oh why, does it happen so much more now that I have a baby when I've experienced more joy than I have ever known with my dear, sweet Lily?
I guess, one day, I'll know.
For now, I'll just enjoy being happy!