Church is hard

Here it is, my honest feelings and completely raw emotions.
It's sacrament meeting right now and I'm success to in the mother's lounge because my baby would not take a bottle. I keep repeating in my head, "Why am I here?"
With the birth of my second daughter, things changed pretty drastically in my life (as babies do). I found my newfound time in the early morning hours as a great time to finally have time to read my scriptures, general conference talks and all that great church stuff. Oddly this newfound development did not increase my testimony but I found it a real struggle to get up and go to church on Sunday. Worse than ever before, including those years I spent running away from the church.
Two weeks in a row the tasks have been about priesthood hinders in the home and the temple. It cuts me kind of hard. Dave does not currently hold the priesthood and my dad passed away three years ago. It's hard for me to understand why God would take away my greatest and stories only access to the priesthood power. You can argue that there are home teachers to help with that (never seen them) or my older brothers (with their own busy, hard lives). Man, I miss my dad lately. Maybe it's hard because I look at Emily and I see him, or the lack of him. He will never see her on this earth.
Back to my church discussion Nursing Emily is difficult to time between sacrament meeting and before my class. I have a hard time with leadership. Since Emily's birth, the primary president has been asking me when I'll be ready to go back to my class and one of the other leaders moved out of the ward so my help is needed. What happened to the understanding and kindness that I remember when I was younger? It seems like that is gone. They expect you to take on your calling and drop everything. I'm really struggling with Emily and with the church. I feel like primary is not there place for me when there is so much doubt and stress.
How do people do this every week? I feel so awful.


Crirps forever

Dave and I live in a very nice neighborhood, but like all neighborhoods, there are adobe croaks hidden behind white fences and smiling up people
The amusing thing about the criminals in our neighborhood is their inability to spell. I wish I had side pictures to include with this entry.
The first was a graffiti artist marking their territory on an auto parts store. They wrote the initials to our city and claimed it for the Samoan Crirps. Spelling is hard.
The second major incident occurred right outside our bedroom window. Our neighbors are questionable. I can't prove anything besides the bounty of trash they keep in their backyard, but let's just say I wonder about some of them.
One night some one spray painted their car with some pretty harsh accusations about some cheating guy, including the ever popular "Frck u".
Someone find these criminals a dictionary and an education.



I'm a jealous mom. I said it. No hiding. Truth talk here.
Its probably my biggest flaw and not just in motherhood. I've spent the majority of my life unsatisfied. I look in the mirror and I don't see who I am, just who I am not.
These feelings sometimes become magnified through my children and those mother's around me.
The last few days have been really hard (here comes my whining, so stop here if you don't care). Cami regressed in potty training about three weeks ago and she averages about three or four accidents a day. So I help clean Cami and the floor while Emily usually starts crying. Now I know my children's choices are not a reflection of who I am, but in the last eight weeks of my maternity leave, I've failed potty training her. Parents around me do it in three days and some of them whine about a week or two. I've also had numerous parents assure me that regression is normal, that does not help. I hate the idea of her going to preschool and/or the babysitters and peeing/pooping herself.
I've also been trying to finish up the book I started with all of my dad's writings. At the end of the book, I'm putting a photo history together. Yesterday I ran across a picture of him from my wedding, smiling like he always did. With his photo eyes looking at me, I felt sure he was disappointed. I don't lead the life he wanted for me. I'm a full-time working mom, in a field where my creativity is not used, married to a man who does not share my testimony/beliefs, I struggle to not feel empty each Sunday (going through the motions because I know the truth but I don't feel it). I'm sure he wanted more for me. He loved me.
This is where the jealousy comes in. Seeing those who have these things and more each week. Everyone struggles, I know that their struggles may not be visible. I don't have a lot of help in my life. I've worked incredibly hard to get where I am, but is that enough? Am I enough? Is this all I will ever be?