Awesome Parent Alert

So...

Spencer has two teeth.

We didn't even notice.

I was making chocolate zucchini bread for our neighbors for Christmas. Greg reached over to get a little chocolate frosting. He was holding Spence and was going to rub some chocolate on his gums. Shockingly, he exclaimed, "Do you know he has teeth?!?" My response: "He does not."

Actually, he does. Two bottom teeth. This is the earliest any of my children have gotten a tooth (Macy was a year for heaven sakes). And he and Kade have had such terrible colds for the past couple of months (on and off) that he is oozing from every opening, so how was I to know that the drool was from teeth and not sickness?

Funny, it was just Sunday that we were talking about how they are pretty content babies. We were commenting on how Spencer has been a little crankier than usual with this cold. Or, perhaps it was because he was teething!

Kade just has two bumps. Generally, Spencer starts doing something (rolling over, sleeping through the night, scooting) and Kade starts about two weeks later. We'll see. They sure are cranky though. Teeth + Sickness = 2 Grumpy Babies.

I feel like such an attentive mother.

As always, photos from this amazing friend (and very attentive mother)!

Secret Santa

Last week, for FHE, we watched President Monson's address from the First Presidency Christmas Devotional. Although it was actually Elder Uchtdorf's message that really "spoke" to me, President Monson is the perfect speaker for young children because he's full of stories (Modern Day Parables). He spoke about service at Christmastime. It was a beautiful talk. I've found that we take advantage of service outside of our home at Christmastime, but that we are lacking when it comes to service within the walls of our home. So, we decided to initiate Secret Santa with our little family. Austin, Macy, Greg, and I drew names and promised to provide a little service for that person until Christmas. We agreed that we would all serve Paige and the twins.

Even though it is supposed to be "secret," there are really only four of us. As if that wasn't easy enough, I'm also dealing with an 8-year-old and 5-year-old who still don't fully understand the concept of whispering. So, without admitting it, and much to Austin's dismay, we all know each other's "Secret Santa." It's been fun. Austin has been doing a lot of extra chores around the house to serve me. Macy considered unloading the dishwasher for Austin while he was at school, but backed out when she considered the amount of work. Instead, she drew him some pictures and left them outside the bathroom while he showered. (We're working on her.)

Probably the most fun so far has been a little name poem that Greg wrote for Macy on the bathroom mirror. Using a pink crayon (her favorite color), he wrote her name vertically down the center of the mirror in big, block letters. Then, he used the letters in her name to write a word. She is in love with this idea! The other day, I walked past the bathroom to find her sitting on the counter, "reading" the words again, and carefully touching them. (We're working on her.)

The funniest though is that Austin copied this idea for his Secret Santa. The next day, I found this next to Macy's name:

Obviously, my favorite part of that is "pippy." I may never wash my mirror again just to preserve that one! Then, I found this on my mirror:

Just in case you are wondering, that last word should be read as "juicY." Apparently, according to Austin, it is because I "like juice." Greg, on the other hand, is thrilled to have such a juicy wife. I did inquire about the L - "yelL." Really!?! And does anyone else see the irony in the fact that the word above it, the I, reads "nIce?" When I asked Austin about it, he smiled sheepishly and told me that he couldn't think of another word to go with L. I quickly suggested "Lovely" or "BeautifuL." He just shrugged his shoulders and said, "Well...You do yell."

You may imagine that I would be embarrassed by this or feel the need to defend myself. Let me assure you, I am embarrassed and I am this close to installing Nanny Cams all over my house then frequently posting the video to drive the point that I do yell on occasion, but not ALL DAY LONG! However, I will refrain and just be grateful that I no longer need to come up with a New Year's Resolution. Do you think it is possible for me not to yell all year long so that next year a positive "L" word could replace "yelL" in my mirror poem?!?

I love these little monkeys! They sure keep me smiling (and apparently yelling)!

A Baby's Eyes

I wish that babies eyes weren't so difficult to photograph...

Part I:

When Spencer and Kade were in the hospital after they were born, the hospital graciously let me "room in." Although I had to move a few times, I was able to stay overnight at the hospital to be with them and participate in the feedings (which were the only times that I was able to hold them). It was a blessing not to have to be separated from them. Another beautiful blessing is that I became close to several of the nurses. It got to the point that the same nurses would take care of them, and I came to adore these sweet women.

Some evenings, the nursery was busy and buzzing, but some nights, all was quiet. One night, around midnight, one of the nurses and I were sitting in the rockers, both with a baby in our arms, giving them their little bottles, and we got into a conversation about her children. She and her husband adopted four (3 boys and 1 girl). Earlier, I learned that their 2nd baby was born 2 months early, weighing just over two and a half pounds. She told me that she has a soft spot in her heart for preemies which was why she fought to take care of our boys.

Their first two babies came through an adoption agency, and the last two came through a program similar to foster parenting. She and her husband signed up to take newborn through 4 months. She told me that when they got their 3rd little boy, he was a little bit older (I think she said just over 5 months), but they agreed to take him anyway. He had been so neglected that he would not look into their eyes. They would talk to him, coo at him, sing to him, make funny noises, etc. but he would just look past them. Nobody had ever paid attention to him. He didn't know what it was like to have another human being look at him and portray love. He didn't know how to respond.

She told me that it took months until he looked her in the eye (I believe he was 10 months old), and even longer to actually smile. Even now (he is four), he stays close to her and her husband, but won't let many other people into his life. Whenever he meets someone new, he hides behind his mom and dad because he simply doesn't trust.

Part II:

I wish that babies eyes weren't so difficult to photograph because they display complete, raw, unconditional love. How sad for this little boy that he didn't have any attention in those first few months of life. How happy for this little boy that he found two people who refused to give up on him and dedicate their lives to proving to him how much he is loved. How tragic for the birth parents of this little boy who didn't realize the gift that their baby could have given them.

One of the most frequent comments I get with my twin boys is: "Oh, I just can't imagine how much work that would be!" Which, I suppose, is true. If I really stop to think about it (and honestly, who has time to stop and think), there is some extra work involved with two babies. Sometimes a simple outing such as going to a doctor's appointment or grocery shopping takes as much prep time as a short vacation. The time spent nursing adds up (if you have time for math), and the amount of diapers is just astronomical. But, in all honesty, I rarely focus on the work. One of the reasons is that this is my 4th and 5th time with a baby in the house. I now know how fleeting this stage really is. But mostly, it is because each and every time I see these boys, they greet me with overwhelming adoration.

Whenever I walk into the room, their eyes light up. Sometimes, I don't even have to be in the room. If they hear my voice, I hear little coos indicating that they are searching for me. And I can't even think about walking past them without picking them up for a squeeze and some sugar. They reach their little arms out and start frantically searching for my face. Once they find it, they grab on tightly and devour my nose, chin, or cheekbone. It's as if they are saying, "I love you so much, I think I'll eat you right up." I love it when they catch my gaze and their eyes twinkle and they try to make their lips roll the way I do. Today, I was rocking Spencer to sleep. He had his binkie in his mouth and his hand on my face (always), and every once in a while, I would see this little head pop up in the crib and peer at me through the bars. I would smile at Kade, maybe give him a little shout-out (in whispers of course), and his face would light up for a minute, then he would put his head back down and try to go to sleep. I am their entire world.

This isn't a post on how wonderful I am or how much I need to be loved, but more on how babies do come to us with an innate ability to permeate love. Their eyes are so deep and penetrating. It's as if they can see to our core, and they love us anyway. Sometimes, I so desperately wish they could speak because it seems like they have so much to say. Their eyes are full of truth.

I am watching the outside world creep into the lives of my older children. I am no longer their entire world. Austin's world revolves around pokemon, Harry Potter, bakugan, four square - anything that is "in" with his friends. Macy's whole world is her dad. He is the center of her universe. (It will be very interesting to watch what happens when another man tries to infiltrate that relationship.) Paige's whole world...well, it is partly me, but mostly just anything that has to do with discovery. She is into and out of EVERYTHING! So busy figuring out all that life has to offer.

I feel so grateful to have two sets of eyes in my home that are teaching me, yet again, about what it means to love and adore. I get so wrapped up in what my children are "supposed" to be doing and how they are "supposed" to be acting, that I forget my main responsibility: To be that safe haven where they can always find love. These four little eyes are so busy, on a daily basis, reminding me of the true purpose of life.

A Sports Analogy - Kind of a Stretch

Today, I went to the Utah basketball game with my husband and father-in-law. The Runnin' Utes are not exactly great this year, so the expectation wasn't very high. Well, near the end of the first half, they really started doing quite well. I believe at one point they had an 11 point lead (it may have been 9 - don't remember, but the lead was significant). They were on fire with their three-point shots. For a few minutes (which is a long time in sports), it seemed like every time they got the ball, they were sinking three pointers. Interestingly, at this point in the game, Utah had 9 fouls and Oklahoma (the visiting team) had only 3 fouls. I'm not complaining about the refs, I'm just saying that even though the calls weren't exactly going their way, they were prospering.

The last minute or two of the first half, there were several calls in a row that went in favor of Oklahoma and they were able to cut the Utah lead to six going into halftime. Even with a strong lead, the Utes left the court looking a little deflated. Then the second half started. It seriously looked like Utah was playing with lead shoes. They were slow, sloppy, and just so very sad and frustrated. The other team looked like little bees buzzing all over the court. They were quick! They were getting the rebounds and driving the ball down the court with purpose. As I was noticing this, Greg leaned over to me and commented on how fast the other team looked. It was glaringly obvious that Utah was getting out-played and it seemed like they didn't even care. They just started scrambling to get any shot off. As a result, they turned the ball over - a lot! But, the next time down the stretch, they made the same mistakes over and over again.

Behind us sat a very passionate fan (and by "passionate" I mean incredibly annoying). As I sat there listening to him scream "Defense" in time with a little picture of a D and then a picture of a fence flashing on the screen, I noticed specks of spit flying over my head onto my lap.

This is exactly how I've felt lately.

I feel like the world is whizzing past me. People are busily going about their lives with great purpose and meaning. They are succeeding, and succeeding happily. I used to be one of those people (like the Utes at the end of the 1st half) who could plow through anything, even if there was opposition, with great optimism and purpose. I felt confident in my ability to figure things out and find a way through. I believed in the promise that I would come out stronger and things would work themselves out if I just did everything possible in my power and did it the best I could. I had faith and trust in the process, even if going through it was difficult. But lately, for no apparent reason, I'm just not dealing with people and life very well. I wake up in the morning with the goal to just survive. I eventually force myself out of bed, and I occasionally even change out of my robe and slippers. I have a list of things to do in my head, but find that it is just too difficult to accomplish them. I just want to "get through." I know the mistakes I'm making, but I just keep making them over and over again.

And sometimes, I even feel spit upon.

For the record, the Utes did fight back. They were able to force the game into overtime, but were unable to make a foul shot to save their lives. They ended up losing the game, but not after putting in a strong effort the last few minutes. I know that I have to fight back as well. I need to dig deep and find that strength that I know is in me to pull out of my funk. I need to put the effort into changing my attitude and finding that great purpose again. I know I can try harder. I know exactly where I need to turn and what I need to do.

After all, about half the seats were empty. I could have easily moved to another seat to avoid the spit.

My New Haircut

Grow hair, GROW!!!

Temporary Insanity

Note to Self: Never Gamble

I consider myself to be a conservative when it comes to Christmas. I really love everything about the holiday: celebrating the birth of Christ, the music, the lights, the devotionals, the excitement, the traditions, the goodies, the cards, and yes, even Santa. I love the looks on my kids faces as they tear into their presents. Their excitement is my favorite gift. But every year I struggle with balance. How much is too much commercialism? How much do I focus on the Savior? How do I inspire the love of giving and not receiving? How can we help those in need? At the end of it all, did we all feel the "true" meaning of Christmas? Did it inspire us to carry us through the next year and make us better people?

In an effort to create this feeling, I try not to go overboard on the toys and the gifts. At the same time, my kids rarely get things if it isn't Christmas or their birthday. In fact, when we go to the store, and the kids see stuff they want, I optimistically tell them to "Put it on your Christmas List" or "Put it on your Birthday List." This approach always...always...distracts them away from the whining and pleading that could possibly follow. As a result, I once again struggle with balance. I want them to have a nice Christmas and get some special gifts that they don't get the rest of the year, but I try hard not to go overboard.

I was doing quite well this year and really feeling like I was doing a good job with balance. I was even feeling very little anxiety about the money I had spent this year. I was coming in well under my "Mental Budget" for gifts. And then, I turned to a certain source for the last item on Macy's list, and as a result, I have temporarily lost my mind.

One word: Ebay

I've bought a few things on Ebay over the years. I got a great dinosaur Halloween costume for Austin a few years back, an out-of-print cooking magazine, and a few other small items here and there. But, I have always done the "Buy-It-Now" option. No patience for an auction. However, when I went in search of a few handmade Barbie clothes to finish up Macy's Christmas list, I was forced into the auction process. I became obsessed. It started out innocently enough. I bid on a few dresses. Then, I lost. I received a few emails that said I had been outbid and sadly did not win the item, but did I want to go to the seller's store to view other items. Why yes, I did want to go to the seller's store. I did want to find something bigger, better (just to stick it to that stranger that "stole" my last item). I found even more grand, glamorous Barbie dresses from Beijing and Australia. I started placing bids willy nilly. I saw more and more dresses (and the Euro makes them appear so cheap). I won a few only to realize that there were more out there that I fell in love with.

I must have them.

I started checking my auction status every couple of minutes. Feed one baby, then quickly log-on and increase my bid on an item. Then, feed the other baby. Quickly run Macy to school, only to hurry and check on my items before taking everyone out of the car seats. No time for eating or sleeping. I had my bids to check. One time, I was down to the last 10 seconds - the pressure of that red number blinking on my screen - I was forced to increase my bid to a ridiculously high price (for a Barbie dress - hello!?!). My heart was pounding. Must...Win...Dress!

I lost.

Thank heavens.

When I realized what I was willing to pay to cover up a 12-inch plastic doll, I recognized that I had a problem. Seriously, I rarely spend that much on a dress for myself. Unfortunately, I already had quite a few bids out there. But, I decided to walk away. I already had enough Barbie dresses to cover this Christmas, Macy's birthday, next Christmas, and still have a few left over. No more new bids. If someone out-bid me, I would not bid again.

Do not visit Seller's Store.

Do not view similar items.

Do not be tempted to save dollars...dollars...on shipping by combining items.

Do not pass Go. Do not throw away two hundred dollars.

I won a few more dresses. I lost quite a few. In the end, I purchased 19 items. NINETEEN!!! FOR BARBIE!!! (I even bought the same dress twice. Oops!) I have also changed my Ebay password to something that I will never remember.

Please don't judge me. But more importantly, please don't join me. Don't let the evil traps of the Ebay auction ensnare you this Christmas. And please don't be surprised if you invite one of my daughter's to a Birthday Party over the next couple of years only to receive a handmade dress - for Barbie.

* * *

Has anyone else suffered from a similar bout of insanity this year? Please share - I don't like to feel stupid alone. How do you balance at Christmas?

* * *

On a totally unrelated note, go here to see my adorable boys and read a funny (but typical) story about my crazy life with five kids! I love them! (I spent $7.00 on them - combined - for Christmas. Perhaps that balances out the money spent on Barbie clothes.)

Welcome to the Holidays

I hope you all enjoyed your Thanksgiving!

Paige kept saying, "I have to eat my turkeys." (Everything is plural to her at the moment). Well, who wouldn't love turkey if you thought it was chocolate pie topped with real whip cream and shaved chocolate!

Awesome Thanksgiving Story #2

Twelve years ago, I lived in New York. I had finished two years of college and had run out of money. I figured that if I was a nanny, and I cleaned a few houses on the side while the kids were at school, I could save up enough for the last two years of school and make enough to play a little. It was a great decision. Once I got there, I found a job for Lisa as well.

Even though I worked for truly horrible people (but I loved my boys), Lisa worked for truly wonderful people. She was surrounded by one of the most generous families I've ever met. The Grandpa of her little boy was a VP for Macy's Department Store. With Thanksgiving approaching, he helped us get into the parade. We decided to be Balloon Handlers. When we were filling out our application, we came to the section where we had to give very detailed measurements of our body. (Every balloon is assigned a color. All the balloon handlers for that balloon wear matching jumpsuits.) We decided to add a few inches to all of our measurements because we knew it was going to be freezing and we wanted to make sure that we accounted for plenty of sweatshirts, coats, scarves, long underwear, etc.

Apparently, the parade organizers already account for all that stuff. When we arrived as the warehouse Thanksgiving morning, we walked over to find that our brown jumpsuits were enormous! We picked them up off the hanger and just started laughing. I am a pretty short person. Lisa is taller, but not significantly. Seriously, the parade planners probably received our applications and thought two 6 feet 2 inch behemoths were volunteering. They probably didn't assign our balloon as many handlers because they thought that we could do the job of three average-sized people. Once we stopped laughing, we walked out of the warehouse with the crotch of the jumpsuits past our knees and the arms rolled up to our shoulders. We looked ridiculous, but we were already having a blast!

We were assigned to the Peter Rabbit balloon - quite possibly the most lame balloon in the entire parade. You see small children screaming for Spiderman and Dora, but nobody cheers like crazed Beatles fans when they see Peter Rabbit coming down the street. Plus, we soon realized that balloon handling is quite difficult and actually a lot of work. There was quite a bit of wind that day. Wind is brutal in New York City. It gets trapped between those buildings and just rips it's way along the streets. Makes your eyes water, your nose run, and giant balloons can easily crash into streetlamps and traffic lights. We were given a strict lecture about NOT letting this happen.

The parade actually starts up by the Museum of Natural History and works its way through the streets until it reaches Harold Square where it is filmed (at least in years past). So, what you see on TV has actually been going on for a few hours. We were supposed to keep the balloon down until we reached the television cameras where we let it float up for a few minutes. Each balloon has a director that keeps his/her eyes on the balloon the entire time, shouting out instructions to people to pull down or let up so we don't cause any damage.

After a few minutes of this, our balloon director asked for a few volunteers to carry our Peter Rabbit Banner (it just keeps getting better). Lisa and I eagerly volunteered. Then, our director taught us a cheer:

Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, Pete

Beatrix Potter is really neat!

At this point, we are oozing with awsomeness. But to make us even more cool, we made up our own little dance to go along with the cheer.

We had a blast! Giant jumpsuits and all.

But the very best part, by far, was the end. As soon as we passed the TV cameras, we turned a corner. We had to get the balloon down as quickly as possible since there were marching bands, floats, and more balloons behind us. In order to do this, the balloon is brought down to street level, and all of the balloon handlers and other volunteers lay on it to press out all the helium. The balloon directors and other parade officials are extremely serious about this entire process. But, honestly, how serious can you take people when they are talking in that squeaky, high voice.

There were probably 50 people throwing their bodies on top of this giant balloon and other people running around the balloon with headsets and clipboards shouting instructions and pointing to areas where the balloon was still bulging. And all 50+ people were overcome with massive amounts of helium. Lisa and I were practically useless. We were rolling around on this balloon, laughing so hard we had tears rolling down our cheeks. It really doesn't matter how "official" and "serious" someone makes their face look, if they sound like Alvin and the Chipmunks, it is impossible to take them seriously.

Good times with a great sister!

Awesome Thanksgiving Story #1

So in preparation for Thanksgiving, my mom and sisters and I divided up the Thanksgiving dishes (I think we are all responsible for 3-4 items, which would bring the total to 16 - more people than are actually attending Thanksgiving). I had to make my salad tonight because it has to chill overnight, so I decided to just do the bulk of my cooking since I was already in the kitchen.

One of my responsibilities is the stuffing. I put Kade in the Bumbo on top of the counter while I chopped veggies. I even handed him a rather long stalk of celery. He put it in his mouth the first time and made the most horrible face. Since he is only six months old, he frequently dropped the celery. He got to the point that I just had to put it in his hand and he made the horrible face (he didn't even have to taste it). After that, I just gave it back to torture him because I thought it was funny.

Eventually, I handed him a red, plastic cup to play with instead of the celery. I was just going about my business, making preparations, when I started on the onion. About half-way through my chopping, I look up and my poor baby is not crying, but his eyes are bright red with tears streaming and his nose is running.

Oops!

I'm thankful that he's such a good sport and that he and Spencer are such happy, content babies (most of the time). It has been a HUGE blessing this year. I am truly grateful.

My greatest blessings of this past year (many pounds ago):

I remember being at Thanksgiving last year. We were with Greg's family. I knew I was pregnant, but didn't know they were twins. I also hadn't told anyone yet. I remember Macy being so bored because her girl cousins were taking such a long time arriving. We are the last to have children on his side. Our kids are the youngest. I remember thinking that this poor baby inside my belly won't have anyone to play with when we are with Greg's side. Little did I know that God had already taken that worry off my plate. I'm thankful that Spencer and Kade will always have each other.

Just So You Know

St. George, Utah: The perfect escape from November snow in Salt Lake City.

And it was absolutely perfect! The weather could not have been more beautiful.

We spent two afternoons at the pool. We had it completely to ourselves. On the second day, we were sitting in the hot tub, enjoying the warmth and watching the kids jump in and out of the pool. Kade was asleep in the stroller.

I looked over and saw his little feet kicking and moving and announced: "Looks like Kade decided to wake up."

Macy immediately jumped out of the water and ran to check on her "buds" (as she calls him).

Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks and very carefully started tiptoeing back to the hot tub.

"Uh, Dad. There's a spider."

We look over and a tarantula had crawled out from under the stroller.

Greg bravely saved my baby from the giant, hairy monster. First, he attempted to use a frisbee, but as the beast reared up, he quickly decided on a tool with handle - a long handle. He grabbed the net hanging on the side of the pool and nudged it (from a much safer, 10-foot distance) toward the rock wall.

Everyone was mesmerized.

We spent the next half hour watching the creature crawl up the wall, fall down, and eventually into a small crevice. As far as capturing the kids attention, it was better than any movie or video game.

* * *

While we were on our mini vacation, we spent some time at Fiesta Fun. Getting there was definitely a fiesta, and in the end, pretty dang funny. We used the GPS to guide us to our destination and ended up in the middle of a trailer park community for "Over 55". As we were stopped in the corner, surrounded by immaculate white trailers, fake grass, and little garden gnomes, Greg said he felt like Michael Scott ("The Office") who drove into a river because the GPS told him to. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time.

Despite the confusing prices, and the even more confusing young teenagers running the joint, the kids had a blast on the go carts, and the guys took full advantage of a broken batting cage. To our luck, it never shut off. After hundreds of balls, and a few blisters (I forgot to take off my wedding ring) it seemed a shame to walk away. We had fun.

As we were buckling our crew into the car (takes us a while), I witnessed a family exit the Fun Center and walk to the car. It was a dad with his three children. The oldest child (probably 9 or 10 years old) was walking next to him. She was pitching a major fit! She was sobbing, begging, whining - all at once. The two younger children were skipping happily behind. Suddenly, the dad stopped, turned to his oldest child, and very calmly said, "I am never taking you anywhere ever again in your entire life...Just so you know." Then he calmly got into his car.

We have been kindred spirits ever since.

What It's Like to Be the 4th and 5th Children

*Amusement provided by Paige and Tae.

**Kade in the football shirt, sitting up. Spencer in the stripes, on his tummy, sucking his thumb.

The Naked Tree: Part Two

A couple of other things that have disappeared along with Summer/Fall:

• My Hair: I am losing it by the handfuls several times a day. It is everywhere! Pretty soon, you'll see little hair sprouting all over my head. After I had Austin, my sister said, "Oh, I see you cut bangs." I started crying. "No," I explained. "My hair is just growing back."

• Paige's Manners: She used to be so very polite and darling. But, she is getting closer to age 3 and farther away from age 2. Therefore, she is forgetting how to speak kindly and learning how to demand and torture. I still adore her, but it is so sad to see my sweetheart turn into a little Stinkerpot.

• My Newborns: Spencer and Kade are no longer helpless little newborns. They are nearly sitting up, they love their Exersaucer, and Baby Einstein can capture their attention for an entire half hour. Kade loves to jump, and they are both little talkers. They are growing up so, so, so fast!

• Sleepless Nights: My boys are officially sleeping through the night. I have hesitated actually saying it out loud for fear that I would jinx the blessing. But, it has been two or three weeks now, and they both eat anywhere from 9:00-10:30 at night and sleep until 6:30 or 7:00 in the morning. I LOVE them!!!

• Macy's Hair: We spent the weekend in St. George. I think that there was a bit too much chlorine in the swimming pool. Macy's blond locks turned bright green and completely fried. I have washed and over-conditioned, but the green is here to stay. We had no choice but to trim a few inches off the end.

The Naked Tree

We lost our peach tree to the giant wind storm in August. The main branch snapped in half. We decided to ignore it for a few months. The birds and the wasps were in heaven. Greg commented that our neighborhood had the fattest, happiest birds in town. A couple weeks ago, Greg trimmed the tree and this is what was left. The naked tree. It just looks so exposed and vulnerable. I am tempted to put a coat on it, perhaps a scarf and mittens just to protect it from the elements.

The harsh reality is that I can't always protect the things I love. It leaves me feeling like our little tree: exposed and vulnerable.

Greg and I have all these little kids. I find it interesting that they spend the majority of their time trying to be "grown up." They beg for a later bedtime, protest taking a nap, salivate at the thought of earning money, desperately want to walk to a friend's house "by myself" or use a public restroom without any assistance. Macy constantly begs me for "just a little make-up," and my girls raid my closet to wear my clothes and shoes at least twice a week. Paige asks me daily, "Am I big?" And the answer has to be "Yes" or she adamantly protests. Austin eagerly talks about the days when he can drive, and even my babies seem to want to do everything their siblings do. Greg and I are constantly telling them to slow down! When I check on my kids before I go to bed, I find myself running my fingers through their hair and begging them...pleading with them...to just enjoy being a kid. I whisper in their ears while they sleep contently, "Just relax. Don't be in such a rush to grow up." Being an adult is tough. The problems and trials are so much harder than they were ten or fifteen years ago. Reality is not an easy pill to swallow. People can be so cruel; life can be so harsh. Sometimes, I long to crawl into bed with my sleeping babes and just go back to that time of innocence.

When I looked at my tree this morning, I saw something interesting: a little leaf, right on the very top, still green - still clinging to life. Every November, I watch the world around me drain of color. Everything seems desolate, lifeless, and incredibly brown. But every Spring, the world rejuvenates and the tulips, blossoms, and green grass provide hope again. I guess we just have to hold on and have faith that peace, joy, happiness, and color will come back after the dark, barren times.

I believe that they will.

Pop-Up Halloween