What I learned from my mother

By Terresa Wellborn

My mom’s atypical. We love to hear the story when she was thrown out of the BYU pool in the 1960’s for wearing a bikini. Scandalous! She loved wearing miniskirts, too. She sat barefoot at the feet of Peter, Paul, and Mary — I grew up singing “Lemon Tree” to my front yard lemon tree. …

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If You Only Knew… Another Side of Infertility

I wanted to start IVF sooner rather than later, and had begun to nag my husband, B about it. We were both over 30 when we married and weren’t getting younger.  Now that I was a wife, I desperately wanted to be a mother. He desperately wanted a life together, with a family and, in …

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Mothering as Witnessing of God

By Emily Milner

Last Sunday my son gave a talk in Primary for the first time in years. It was short, but he thought of it himself, and knowing how standing in front of people gives him anxiety, I felt proud of him. A couple of weeks ago he gave a package of Oreos to a boy he’s disliked for years. He told me about it like it was no big deal, but I knew better. It was a huge deal. I am still learning a lot from parenting this child, but I can’t let the weight of the future steal my joy in him right now. These moments represent progress, and I am grateful.

It’s a different type of gratitude or pride, though. I can’t really explain how much he has grown without telling his whole story, which I won’t do here, or even to most people. My husband and I are the ones who know the whole story. We are the witnesses to his growth. It’s us, and God.

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Mothers’ Day Gifts Worth Giving (And Getting)

By Kellie Purcill

Pearler, n., Australian colloquial slang: an item of exceeding merit, beauty, perfection, worth or combination of the same. E.g. “It’s an absolute pearler of a book/car/idea/baby/party.” (Hint: rhymes with twirler)

Shocker, n., Australian colloquial slang: item of significant awfulness, ineptitude, failure of effort. E.g. “He gave his Mum a shocker of a Mothers’ Day pressie – a toilet brush. He hasn’t been seen since.”

Everyone wants a pearler of a Mothers’ Day present, to give AND to receive. Shockers can be left right there on the shelf, thank you VERY much.  Here are my two top suggestions of absolute pearlers to give (AND receive – a present to yourself, how lovely, thoughtful and considerate!!) to the important women in your life this month.

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In Defense of Mother’s Day

Wife, mother, writer, sister, friend, Ruth Mitchell lives in the golden San Diego hills, plans the best parties and tells fantastic bedtime stories. Mother’s day dawns and the women are grumbling. Most of the women I know don’t particularly like Mother’s Day. Growing up my mom hated Mother’s Day. She would sit in church and …

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Dear Mother’s Day

Today’s guest post comes from Sarah d’Evegnee, who has her MA in Literary Criticism from BYU and has taught English at BYU, UVU, and is currently an adjunct faculty member at BYU-Idaho.  She is also a mother.  When her two worlds inadvertently collide, she quotes Sesame Street in the classroom and deconstructs Dr Suess as she reads to her toddlers.  The most important thing to know about Sarah is that she just celebrated the birth of her seventh child with a Cinco de Mayo c-section and is fittingly scheduled to bring the new bundle home on Mother’s Day.  No angry letters to Mother’s Day this year–mostly because she and the baby get to stay home and soak in the joy of maternal bliss.  Mother’s Day just as it should be.

Dear  Mother’s Day,

Since you’re obviously female, I will talk to you like you’re one of the girls. I totally love you–you know that, right? So, as a friend, and only because I love you like a sister, let me share some things I hate about you.

1) You are always on a Sunday. Whose warped idea was that? I have three hours of church on Sunday. Husbands have meetings on Sunday and we are left to pioneerishly fend for ourselves in a ragged, harried, Sunday morning seizure of church preparations.

Sunday is the most difficult day to maintain an acceptable maternal disposition.  Squishing and squeezing countless unyieldingly chubby appendages into tights and shoes and button-up shirts turns me into some twisted Mormon housewife version of Joan Crawford.

Crazy Sunday Mommy screams, “We’re NOT going to make it!. . . You just ATE your scriptures?. . . How did you get claw marks on your neck?. . . Get ready so we can go to church and learn about LOVE, DARN IT!!!!” in a freakish, shriekish, shaky pitch that isn’t heard any other day of the week! I am so nice on Tuesdays! Why can’t you be on a Tuesday?

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Let’s give it up for…

By Marintha Miles

Mother-in-Laws! That’s right! I know, I know. Media images fill our psyches with images of the Marie Barones of the world. But hey, they gave birth to our husbands, right?

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A Lucky Cow

By Brooke Benton

It’s a phenomenon more puzzling than a Sunday crossword, but more certain than the stars. In fact I could set the compass of my last few years by it: the sticky whirl, the push and pull, the confusion and wonder of a mother daughter relationship.

My mom and I get along great, but I’m no exemption to the hashing out of should-haves, would-haves and why-didn’t-she’s on dates with my journal and dates with my husband. One in particular of which I’ll tell.

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