An inadequate post.

Dad's farm at sunset.

I've felt so inadequate lately. I wish I could explain it. I've tried. But I just can't seem to pinpoint the exact reason for the massive serving of inadequacy garnished with even more inadequacy, and then served on white paper plates that are obviously inadequate for such an occasion.

Inadequacy is something that my mind usually doesn't bother itself with. I mean, I'm usually more bothered by the excessive side of the scale. I talk really loud, speak before I think, share more than anyone bargained for and interrupt more often than commercial breaks on the season opener of American Idol. I'm not saying that inadequacy isn't something that I struggle with, because HEAVEN HELP ME. {Don't tell anyone, but I don't even have an etsy shop or a photog business or make all my old shirts into perfectly sewn little dresses for my stylish daughter, and I'm not even going to tell you how much money I DIDN'T SAVE due to my inadequate ability to clip and organize coupons.} I'm just saying that I'm the proud owner of plenty other personality quirks that seem to trump the feeling of inadequacy.

But lately my inadequacy has all but consumed me.

You call yourself a good mom, Kim. {evil chuckle} Good moms don't forget about the laundry and allow it to mold in the washer until one starts to wonder what died. Good moms don't allow their boys to eat a solely hotdog diet for SIX DAYS IN A ROW. Seriously Kim, would you get it together. When was the last time you exercised, huh? Or read a book? You need to pay more attention to the needs of others, Kim. Be more aware. And your hair. Oh sweetie, your hair looks horrendous. Would you learn how to properly apply make-up, Kim. P.S. you need a new wardrobe. You are so inadequate. Sigh.

Most of the time my extreme optimism is able to ward off any feelings of inadequacies.

So what the kid hasn't eaten anything but hotdogs for a week. Every hotdog slice is saturated in ketchup before entering his mouth. So it's actually like he's eating tomatoes. By the truckload! And no biggie that the same load of laundry as been 'resting' in the washer since last Tuesday. The clothes were stained. They needed that extra soaking time.

And usually what I can't fight with the glass half-full scenario I'm able to overlook as something that I'm working on, something that I'm trying to improve, the whole "I'll do better next time" thing.

But lately I've been acutely aware of me and all my inadequacies. They've been starring me straight in the face begging for my surrender; taunting me to admit failure, to throw in the towel, to acknowledge an inadequate defeat.

It's not my inadequacies as a mother, or a wife, or a housekeeper, or a friend that seem to be getting the best of me. Although, no kidding, those inadequacies are as numerous as wedding announcements on the BYU campus.

What's really bothering me is the inadequacy that I've been feeling in my church calling. I'm the Laurel advisor, I teach the 16-18 year old girls.

This isn't my first time having this calling; I've had a calling in the Young Women's for the majority of my married years. In fact in the seven years I've been married, I've held almost every calling available in the Young Women's program. I love the Young Women's program. I love the lessons, I love the weekly "mutual" activities, I love girl's camp and I love being involved with the youth in the ward. I'm comfortable there, and never ever before {not even as Young Women's President} have I felt inadequate.

But for some reason the last few months have been different. Maybe I haven't spent enough time preparing. Or haven't started early enough. Maybe it's because of the group of girls that I have in my class right now. Or maybe just one or two of the girls. Maybe because I don't prepare a tablescape with every lesson {gasp}. Maybe it's because I can name 85 people in the ward that would be much better in the calling. Maybe because I get too excited when I teach: talk to fast, to loud, repeat myself. Maybe because I have young children and a husband that I would much rather spend my time with. Maybe it's none of the above. Or maybe a mix of all of the above.

But whatever it is . . . it's a battle, of sorts, that I fight every Sunday evening. That overwhelming feeling of inadequacy. 

And somehow, I'm not sure how yet, but somehow I'm going to overcome it. Any ideas?

P.S.

Spence and I just heard strange noises outside and we went to check it out.

Err, um. . . I sent him to check it out while I sat comfortably {and safely} on the couch.

He found a baby deer relaxing on our back lawn.

We found a few more on the front side of the house.

That explains all my mysteriously eaten tomato and pepper plants.

And the yard full of deer poop we've been cleaning up day after day.

But they were baby deer.

And they were cute.

So I'm over it.

The eaten plants part.

Not the deer poop.

Because, seriously, gross.

That's what the neighbor's yards for.

birthday love notes

a birthday love note on
the underconstruction bathroom wall

Hey Spence. Do you remember back when we first started dating and we went on a walk around the college campus? The sprinklers were on in front of the BA building and like a true gentleman you thought it would be funny {maybe flirty} to throw me in front of the sprinklers. I didn't go down without a fight though. And after the whole ordeal we both continued the walk exhausted and soaking wet.

And then remember how, as if to get revenge, I thought it would be funny {maybe flirty} to do that little number where you kick someone in the back of the knee to make their legs buckle. Because I think things like that are funny. And so I did it. Perhaps over did it. Remember how I kicked you so hard that your legs gave out and you tumbled to the sidewalk. So sorry about that.

Looking back I'm not sure why you didn't yell "sayonara, baby," make a mad dash to the "Tool" truck and burn rubber in true escape fashion. I'm not sure why instead you laughed, got back up, brushed the dirt off your wet clothes, and held my hand. I'm not sure why you decided to stick around. But I am sure of one thing . . . I'm glad you did!!

XOXO,
Kim

Happy 32^nd year {yesterday} to the love of my life and to the most patient and forgiving man I know.

And fun. 
Did I mention he's fun?
Happy birthday to the most patient, forgiving and FUN man I know.

The posts in my head are funny. And perfectly written.

Sometimes, temporarily, I stop updating the blog. I don't mean to stop. It just happens. And all the non-blogging while, I compile {some-HUGE-figure-close-to-a-million} half-written blog posts in me wee little head. Things I want to write down, things I want to remember, feelings I want to share, birthday shout outs I want to give, and so on and so on and so on. But that's as far as they make it; a mere {unshared} thought that will soon be nothing but forgotten. It's too bad, really. Because some of my best posts are written in my head, and then buried there FOR.E.VER! May they rest in peace.

Usually all it takes to reawaken the bloggy addict in me is one measly post {and a few comments from you good people that for whatever reason read this blog of mine. thank you.}. And then somehow, I'm over it. Back to my substandard bloggy self. Blogging about my substandard life; in my substandard way. It really is a sickness.

I'm hoping this post will be that reviving post. Because really, me wee little head has a lot to tell you people.

**Like the fact that Spencer and I have been addicted to documentaries lately. One of my favorite so far: The King of Kong. Spence and I are {obviously} easily influenced and now have an itching desire to grow all of our own food, never eat at McDonalds or even drive in a Walmart parking lot, and to buy an arcade Donkey Kong game which we will house in our garage and play no less than 10 hours a day. We all need goals.

**Or how Brynlee started gymnastics. And how much I adore her in her pink leotard. And how much she adores somersaulting in the pink leotard. And how much I adore that she adores somersaulting, pink leotards and gymnastics. The whole phenomenon is really quite adorable.

**Or how I spent the second half of last week at my mom and sister's house. I told you that they are neighbors now, right? And not that it's all about me, but I surly appreciate the convenience of the new living situation. One trip, two visits. It's like having your cake and eating it too. Or whatever.

**Or how my neighbor got a new roof. Every day for an entire week, the roofer hung shingles while listening to a CD that I'm pretty sure he kyped from the DJ of Skateland circa 1995. I could practically smell Skateland: stale nachos mixed with high school locker room and a broken bottle of Exclamation Perfume. As if to tribute the memory of Skateland couple skating I'm pretty sure my hands got sweaty when Kiss from a Rose came on. And I'm not going to admit to singing along with the roofer to Gangsters Paradise as I pushed the kids on the swings.

**Or how, so far, Jace rocks at being two. Not to brag, but that little two-year old boy is the cutest little two-year old boy in the history of cute little two-year old boys. He's got me wrapped around his chubby finger. Little punk. Now if only we could get him to go to nursery unattended. And take out the trash. And maybe mow the lawn.

**And speaking of my two-year-old, his birthday letter is still to come. That's what put me in the blog sabbatical in the first place. I wasn't going to write another blog post until I got his birthday letter written. It's still not written. Don't judge me.

**We had banana bites for FHE tonight. Here's a little secret that you can't tell anybody: I dipped one in chocolate, rolled it in crushed Kit-Kats. Dipped it in chocolate again, and then rolled it in crushed cookies. The dipped it in chocolate. Then ate it. And then I put my head between my legs to fight the sugar rush. And then I grabbed another banana slice and did it all over again.

I might go to aerobics on Wednesday. Or I might overdoes myself on banana bites, sleep in, and then complain about all the weight I've been bizarrely gaining.

I'll write a substandard blog post letting you know what I decide. No promises on rather or not it will actualy get posted.  But based on the last two weeks. . . I'm thinking probably not.

****

Pictures from a recent family outing to the falls by the temple:

Photo Album: Jace's Birthday