As I write this column, I am sitting in a fluffy bed eating Godiva chocolate waiting for my rose-scented bath to be drawn. A little cup of herbal tea is sitting on my nightstand, along with a new book. A pair of soft pajamas is laid out on the bed with the words "Good Mood" printed across the front. My boys are all downstairs playing with my husband, who just finished making - and cleaning up - dinner.

Sound like a dream? It is. And it's actually happening!

No, this is not a nightly occurrence at our house. I don't even deserve it, to tell you the truth. The last few weeks have been very difficult for me (how many times have I written that?) and tonight was the result of me emotionally losing it on the phone with my husband.

"I just don't feel like me," I told him. Instead of bucking up and getting out and looking beyond myself, all I felt like doing was laying in bed. I was tired. So very, very tired of dealing with my boys whom I have felt constantly at battle with and have officially dubbed the Most Rowdy and Rambunctious, especially my youngest who has reached a new level of naughty.

Yesterday, he threw a toy phone at another little boy during our mommy workout class, resulting in a serious cut and bad bruise. Today he "attacked" (as quoted by one of the teachers at gymnastics) two other little kids in the foam pit trying to claim his dominance over the play area. How do you discipline a 2-year-old? Besides taking him out of the situation, putting him in time out, giving him a spanking, making him apologize or taking away privileges? So far none of those have worked.

After tearfully asking what else I can do and explaining how I just feel like I'm in a funk, my husband responded with, "The best way to get out of that funk is to do something for someone else. I always feel better when I serve someone." I knew he was right. But the stubborn part of me thought, "For crying out loud, what does he think I do all day? My whole life is service with a capital 'S', and that goes for every other mother on the planet!"

I sort of said as much, and then he said, "Then let me serve you."

Service and gratitude go hand in hand, I think. When we focus on being thankful for the blessings we have, it makes us want to turn around and bless the lives of others. That's why my husband is always happy. He doesn't need a shirt to tell him to cheer up, or chocolate, or a warm bath, or a night off from dishes and bedtime duty, although all those things are glorious and wonderful.

"No matter how loud it gets," my husband joked before he shut the door, "you stay up here with the door locked. I'll take care of everything."

He knows service is the way to truly be happy. It's funny, as much as I appreciate being served - and I do - I actually really do feel just as good serving others. Even when those "others" are my not-so-grateful kids.

My November challenge to myself (and I would love to have you join me) is to not only recognize my blessings and voice that gratitude and thankfulness, but to try to follow the example of my husband and do something for someone else that makes them feel that way, too. I love this time of year when we look for the good in our lives and turn to God in gratitude.

Tonight, I'm grateful for my saint of a spouse as well as warm baths, good books and locked doors.

The post How a twist on service helped turn my grumpiness into gratitude appeared first on FamilyToday.

A few months before giving birth to my first son, Boston, I called my grandma in tears. "I am so bored," I said, staring outside at the bleak winter day from my tiny third-story apartment. "I keep wondering if I should be doing something else to try and further my career in music, and why it didn't work out the way I had hoped for."

My amazing grandma is someone I always turn to for advice and a pick-me-up. She is always on my side 100 percent - no matter what. She listened to my frustrations and then said, "Carmen, you have to stop thinking that you have to prove something. You have had amazing opportunities. You have been able to follow your dreams and have a music career. In a few months, you will have a little buddy who will be by your side every minute of every day. And you won't be bored anymore. But listen to me, you have done enough. Now focus your energies on your family."

Those words have carried me through some of the most difficult challenges in motherhood. When I am looking like I'm one missed bath away from resembling a cavewoman and wondering where my brain went (I tried to put my phone in the fridge the other day) or when my 2-year-old is going on two hours of screaming because I wiped his nose and he wants me to "put my boogers back" (true story) or when I look around the house and think, "What the heck did I do today?" I think about those words: "You have done enough."

Author and psychoanalyst Erica Komisar recently penned a book titled, "Being There: Why Prioritizing Motherhood in the First Three Years Matters" that has received massive criticism. After several decades of research and studies, Komisar suggests that mothers play a critical role in their child's early development, especially during the first three years of life and that the absence of a mother can result in behavioral disorders in the child.

"What I was seeing," says Komisar, "was an increase in children being diagnosed with ADHD and an increase in aggression in children, especially in boys, and an increase in depression in little girls." She saw that the absence of mothers in children's daily lives was "one of the triggers for these mental disorders."

In my daydreams, while I'm elbow deep in dirty dishwater, I sometimes wonder what would happen if I decided to leave my homemaking life behind and go on a big nationwide tour again. How much would my kids really miss me?

According to Komisar's research, a lot. "Mothers are biologically necessary for babies. (They) are much more neurologically fragile than we've ever understood," she said. According to an article published in The Wall Street Journal titled, "The Politicization of Motherhood," Komisar "cites the view of one neuroscientist, Nim Tottenham of Columbia University, 'that babies are born without a central nervous system' and 'mothers are the central nervous system to babies,' especially for the first nine months after birth."

"What does that mean? 'Every time a mother comforts a baby in distress, she's actually regulating that baby's emotions from the outside in. After three years, the baby internalizes that ability to regulate their emotions, but not until then.' For that reason, mothers 'need to be there as much as possible, both physically and emotionally, for children in the first 1,000 days.'"

It's no wonder we often feel guilty leaving our babies for one reason or another, but guilt may not be a bad thing, according to Komisar.

"My best patient is a patient who comes to me feeling guilty," says Komisar. "Women who feel guilty - it's a 'signal' feeling, that something's wrong, that they're in conflict. If they go talk to a therapist or deal with the conflict head-on, they often make different choices and better choices."

Sometimes women don't have a choice, and for all the mothers out there who are working out of necessity, I want to say that I think you are amazing and you are also "doing enough."

But for those of us who are able to stay home with young kids, then that is exactly where we should be. If you are wondering whether you are enough, take it from my wise grandma: You are.

And staying home for your season doesn't mean you can never pursue interests again. "You can do everything in life," Komisar encouraged women, "but you can't do it all at the same time."

The post Can the absence of mothers cause mental disorders in children? appeared first on FamilyToday.

"Hello, honey," the gentleman at the deli said with a warm smile. "Now what can I get you today?"

We were in Nashville, Tennessee, on a company tour for Utah COPA's pop music program and were wandering the streets downtown looking for a place to eat when we spotted Rae's Gourmet Sandwich shop. It had a huge line, which is always a good sign.

After looking at the mouth-watering menu and debating which giant sandwich would be best, it was finally my turn.

I couldn't keep from smiling at the use of the word "honey." I told the man at the front - who I later found out was the owner - my selection, and thanked him. "You're welcome, darlin'," he said with another smile.

Flattered isn't the right word. I felt like he truly cared about me. And it wasn't just me - every single woman and girl that stood up to his glass counter filled with sauces, cold drinks and giant double-fudge brownies got the same treatment. We were all "honeys" or "darlins" or sometimes "sugars." And the men and boys were all "brothers." It was this beautiful sense of, "we are all here to be nourished together" that lit up the entire the deli.

After we ate (one of the best gourmet sandwiches I have ever had, by the way), we asked if we could get our picture taken with him and his incredibly kind staff. Of course, they said yes. We thanked him genuinely for his outstanding service. That man put so much love into something as simple as making a sandwich, and as a result, it put everyone else in a good mood. That place had a special feeling.

Contrast this with the video actress Ashley Judd posted the other day about a security guard at the airport calling her "sweetheart."

"I'm not your 'sweetheart,'" she told her Facebook Live audience in a retelling. "But I am your client." This remark was "setting a boundary," in her words. Judd went on to say that she thinks this disrespectful "name-calling" is "the kind of thing that happens which I categorize as everyday sexism." He then had the gall to say she had on a "nice a dress."

"I set my stuff on the... doohickey? You know, the doohickey that rolls, and guess what happened next? He touched me." And apparently oblivious to her "burning skin and feet" he told her to "have a good day!"

We women are born with an innate sense of "ew." We know instinctively when a man is being kind and friendly, like the man at the deli, or when a man is being gross like the former radio host who wasaccused and recently found guilty of sexually assaulting singer Taylor Swift at a meet-and-greet four years ago when he took a picture with the singer and placed his hand on her rear instead of her waist.

But Judd's barrage on social media about her version of sexism makes any man who is trying to pay a woman a compliment seem as inappropriate as the man who was trying to cop a feel off of Swift - and I don't think that's fair. Yes, there are those who are nasty-minded, who are playing at innocence but are really out there to attack and belittle women. But there are also wonderful, genuine and kind-hearted men that are sincere in their compliments and gestures. I am trying to teach my boys to be those kinds of men, the kind that are respectful toward women. I don't want them growing up to be afraid to give a girl a compliment because she might think it's sexist.

I wasn't there at the airport with Judd, so I can't judge her too harshly, but if I know anything about the city of Nashville (where Judd was) I know that terms such as "honey" and "sweetheart" are just as common as "hello."

Cat-calling and complimenting are not the same thing. One is derogatory and the other makes you feel as happy as a customer at Rae's, which I should probably warn Judd not to go to.

(P.S. It's called a conveyor belt, sweetheart.)

The post Ashley Judd and Taylor Swift take a stand against sexism – who was right? appeared first on FamilyToday.

Whenever I look at another woman and think how much better she is at this, that, or the other, my mother's words (quoted from Theodore Roosevelt) come to mind:

"Comparison is the thief of joy."

I know those words are true; however, I struggle to feel the joy that comes from loving myself exactly as I am. I compare too much.

I came across two pictures on Instagram recently that had me wondering about what we are valuing as women. The first was of a reality show star gazing lovingly into her baby's eyes - only instead of focusing on that tender, real moment, my eyes were drawn to the many white lines shooting off her face, linking to the different brands of makeup she was wearing.

Another picture was of a popular blogger promoting her business and clothing line, living in her near-perfect house dressed in near-perfect outfits with near-perfect hair and makeup. The more I scrolled these two women's pages, the more my emotions turned from curiosity, to jealousy, to depression.

"I don't look like that," I said to my husband who was sitting beside me. "But, should I look like that? I mean have I just completely let myself go?"

My husband reached across the bed, lifted the phone out of my hands where it had been for the past hour, and tossed it across the room.

"Stop looking at that," he said.

But I couldn't stop thinking about it. Not about the women in the pictures, but about why we all care so much about what other people are doing or wearing.

I used to think I was a sort of lifestyle writer. Only, my lifestyle doesn't look anything like the lifestyle I see popular bloggers portraying. Where are the screaming kids? The messy minivans? The greasy hair and stretched-out clothes? Where are the dirty floors and handprint-covered windows and real confessions of real days?

A few days after seeing those pictures, I decided to try something out of my comfort zone. We were going on vacation to Fish Lake, and would be staying in a little rustic cabin for the weekend. I packed my clothes, my socks and my shoes. But I did not pack any makeup. I packed a brush, but I didn't pack my flat or curling irons. I told my husband I would not be fixing myself up this trip. I was going granola.

"Good," he said and smiled.

For the first time, I spent an entire weekend with friends and family without "putting on my face." Getting ready was a breeze. I thought I would be very self-conscious about looking so raw all the time, but actually, I felt confident (even when my husband's grandmother - who knows me very well - looked at me and asked me to introduce myself). I wasn't worried if my foundation was blended or if my eyeliner was smeared because I didn't have any on.

When I think about some of my biggest role models growing up, there is one who stands out. She was my youth single adult teacher and I never - not once - saw this beautiful woman wear a stitch of makeup. Her advice and example helped shape my life perspective.

I admired her, I did not envy her. There is a difference.

If I had daughters, I would declare a makeup-free week where we go on vacation and no makeup is allowed (actually, I think they call this "girls camp"). Because who we are is not at all or even kind of related to how much makeup we have on. It is our hearts and our actions and our words. I think what we post says a lot about where our focus is.

Let's focus on each other. Flaws and all.

The post The Instagram picture that encouraged me to go makeup free appeared first on FamilyToday.

"Hello, honey," the gentleman at the deli said with a warm smile. "Now what can I get you today?"

We were in Nashville, Tennessee, on a company tour for Utah COPA's pop music program and were wandering the streets downtown looking for a place to eat when we spotted Rae's Gourmet Sandwich shop. It had a huge line, which is always a good sign.

After looking at the mouth-watering menu and debating which giant sandwich would be best, it was finally my turn.

I couldn't keep from smiling at the use of the word "honey." I told the man at the front - who I later found out was the owner - my selection, and thanked him. "You're welcome, darlin'," he said with another smile.

Flattered isn't the right word. I felt like he truly cared about me. And it wasn't just me - every single woman and girl that stood up to his glass counter filled with sauces, cold drinks and giant double-fudge brownies got the same treatment. We were all "honeys" or "darlins" or sometimes "sugars." And the men and boys were all "brothers." It was this beautiful sense of, "we are all here to be nourished together" that lit up the entire the deli.

After we ate (one of the best gourmet sandwiches I have ever had, by the way), we asked if we could get our picture taken with him and his incredibly kind staff. Of course, they said yes. We thanked him genuinely for his outstanding service. That man put so much love into something as simple as making a sandwich, and as a result, it put everyone else in a good mood. That place had a special feeling.

Contrast this with the video actress Ashley Judd posted the other day about a security guard at the airport calling her "sweetheart."

"I'm not your 'sweetheart,'" she told her Facebook Live audience in a retelling. "But I am your client." This remark was "setting a boundary," in her words. Judd went on to say that she thinks this disrespectful "name-calling" is "the kind of thing that happens which I categorize as everyday sexism." He then had the gall to say she had on a "nice a dress."

"I set my stuff on the... doohickey? You know, the doohickey that rolls, and guess what happened next? He touched me." And apparently oblivious to her "burning skin and feet" he told her to "have a good day!"

We women are born with an innate sense of "ew." We know instinctively when a man is being kind and friendly, like the man at the deli, or when a man is being gross like the former radio host who wasaccused and recently found guilty of sexually assaulting singer Taylor Swift at a meet-and-greet four years ago when he took a picture with the singer and placed his hand on her rear instead of her waist.

But Judd's barrage on social media about her version of sexism makes any man who is trying to pay a woman a compliment seem as inappropriate as the man who was trying to cop a feel off of Swift - and I don't think that's fair. Yes, there are those who are nasty-minded, who are playing at innocence but are really out there to attack and belittle women. But there are also wonderful, genuine and kind-hearted men that are sincere in their compliments and gestures. I am trying to teach my boys to be those kinds of men, the kind that are respectful toward women. I don't want them growing up to be afraid to give a girl a compliment because she might think it's sexist.

I wasn't there at the airport with Judd, so I can't judge her too harshly, but if I know anything about the city of Nashville (where Judd was) I know that terms such as "honey" and "sweetheart" are just as common as "hello."

Cat-calling and complimenting are not the same thing. One is derogatory and the other makes you feel as happy as a customer at Rae's, which I should probably warn Judd not to go to.

(P.S. It's called a conveyor belt, sweetheart.)

The post Ashley Judd and Taylor Swift take a stand against sexism – who was right? appeared first on FamilyToday.