Crazy Makin' House

A Letter to My Daughters (and Future Daughters-in-Law)

2012-01-17T10:09:00.006-07:00

To the Future Mothers in My Life:

I am going to do my best not to forget. Not to forget what it is like to have young children. Not to forget what it is like to be a stay-at-home mother (especially when you are heading into Week #2 with sick children). Not to forget what it is like to realize that you have never, ever done this before and not have a clue how to solve certain problems with your kids.

I'm not talking about after they hand you your perfect, fresh-from-heaven newborn for the first time. I'm not talking about the time that your baby says "Mama" for the first time, or better yet, the first time that they take your face in their chubby little hands and say something that resembles "I love you." I'm not talking about those times when you will go in to check on them after they've fallen asleep and you're certain that your heart will burst because you never thought you could love another human being that much. I'm not talking about all the times that they will have you in stitches over the hilarious things they say and do.

I'm talking about those evenings when that perfect little infant starts crying about 4:30 and doesn't stop until 8 or 9 at night (or better yet, when your 4-year-old cries for 5 hours straight). I'm talking about those times when that tantrum that you hear ringing through the gigantic rafters of Walmart, the screaming, wailing, hitting that you can hear from every corner of the store, is coming from your Little Darling, all because you won't let them have something ridiculous like a 20-lb bag of marshmallows or an eighty-dollar doll that walks and pees and burps. I'm talking about those times when they have been potty-trained for months, and yet when you go to get them up from their nap, they've had an "accident" and wiped it all over the wall, the bed, and themselves. I'm talking about when the Primary leader comes to get you out of class to ensure that your Sweetheart took a chunk out of his friend - with his teeth. I'm not even going to mention the phone calls/emails/text messages from school announcing the unruly, "disrespectful" behavior.

I feel like a lot of people from my mother's generation (and before) have forgotten. Sometimes, I get exhausted hearing about all the perfect children that existed in the 50s, 60s, and 70s. Apparently, those children never cried, whined, talked back, or breathed when they weren't supposed to. Not everyone acts like this, but I do think that we, as human beings, tend to remember the good and block out the bad. It's like when my siblings and I talk about vacations we took when we were kids; we only talk about the fun things while my parents role their eyes and tell us how we fought all the way to Yellowstone, or how the car broke down just outside of Disneyland. It's human nature, but I am going to try to remember enough to provide empathy the best I can.

Last night, I went to bed at midnight. Greg spent the day in bed because he wasn't feeling well, and I had all the kids home for the whole day because it was Martin Luther King Jr. Day. It snowed most of the day so the kids couldn't play outside. A 5 o'clock, I went to get Macy from her friend's house. When I got home, I made dinner and cleaned the kitchen afterward. We had Family Home Evening, and we got everyone in bed by 8. It was then that I started in on the 8 loads of laundry I had done all day (I was still finishing the last few). It was a crazy night of folding. It felt like it was the never-ending laundry basket. I swear...the more I folded, the more full the basket seemed. I finally got everything done and headed to bed just after midnight.

At 5 in the morning, I heard Paige crying from downstairs (yes, she really does cry that loudly and that frequently). Then, I heard Macy come upstairs to tell me that Paige had thrown up all over herself and she needed a bath. I took care of the situation and rolled back into bed about 5:45. A few minutes later, I heard the crying again. I heard Macy again. After a few more rounds of throwing up, I sent Macy to sleep in my bed and I climbed in her bed so I could help Paige and Macy could get some sleep. Paige finally settled down around the time that I could see the sun peeking through the window, and I got up at 7:30 to get the kids ready for school.

I took the kids to school and came home. I got breakfast for the twins and changed diapers. When I walked into Spencer and Kade's room to put their clean, folded clothes away, I smelled it: more throw up. Whoever was sleeping on the top bunk got sick during the night. To my horror, I discovered that he got sick right on the edge of the bed, so it fell down to the bottom bunk, into the ridges of both mattresses and bunk boards, down the stairs and onto the bookcase, landed on the carpet and a book that was under the bed. And it was semi-dry.

After practically disassembling the bunk beds to clean everything, bathing both boys (because I'm still not 100% certain which one got sick), and doing 3 more loads of laundry, I think we've got the situation under control. For now.

Despite what it sounds like, I'm really not complaining. I am grateful that the sickness isn't more severe. I'm grateful that I am healthy and able to take care of these kids. I am grateful that I have these children in my life, and I am grateful that I have been given the opportunity to be a mother. I can't imagine what I would rather be doing with my life. But, I want you to know that I know what it is like to be exhausted. I know what it is like to clean everyone and everything and shower last (it is 11:30, and I still haven't cleaned myself up). I know what it's like to put aside everything you had planned to accomplish in a day and just conquer the sickness and mess. I know that the day-to-day with little kids can be monotonous and exhausting (I know I've already used that word, but it is the best one). And I know the guilt that sets in when you do complain because, after all, you have 5 healthy, beautiful children, a warm home, a good, supportive husband, enough food to eat, enough money to pay the bills, and you enjoy so many luxuries. But, it doesn't change the fact that some moments, some hours, some days, some phases, some stages are still hard.

I will do my best not to forget.

Akshely...

2012-01-15T13:00:00.003-07:00

Macy told us that they didn't have a lesson at church today, instead they just talked about themselves and learned about everyone else in the class. When I asked her to tell me about herself, she handed me this paper:

Front: Macy's Self Portrait

Back: All About Macy

This is surprisingly accurate. I just love it so much!

Translation:

My favorite color is red, pink, purple, and blue. I am good at backscratching, writing, art, and I am kind. I used to have a dog named Penny. My favorite foods are pizza, mac and cheese, and for breakfast, I like waffles. I love to read! I like Hershey bars as a treat. I will actually eat any treat.

This is another drawing my Macy (done last October). Apparently, she has discovered Michael Jackson:

As a family, we filled out some sheets to help us reflect about 2011 and think about what we would like to accomplish in 2012. These are a few of the highlights:

Austin's favorite part of the holidays: "Being with my family. Putting dad on the 'Bad List' at 'This is the Place Holiday Village'."
From Austin, "What do you want to do next year?": More skiing! Lava Hot Springs. Lagoon. San Francisco. Grow my own Christmas Tree.
From Austin, "Hardest Thing of the Year (2o11)": Cleaning the entire bathroom
From Macy, "What do you want to do next year?": Go to Disneyland
From Macy, "Greatest Lesson Learned (2011)": Multalacashon (multiplication)
From Macy, "Hardest Thing of the Year (2011)": hikeing four miles to Delecit Arch & stop sucing my thume
From Macy, "Want to Get Better At (2012)": being nice
From Macy, "Biggest Goal (2012)": Read 50 books
Paige's favorite food: Blueberry bagels with white cream cheese. Why: 'cause it's yummy and the inside of the bagel is purple
Paige's favorithe thing: The house because it's warm and sometimes cold.
From Paige, "What I Loved Most About 2011": Moving to the basement
From Paige, "Want to Learn (2012)": How to read
From Paige, "Want to Get Better At (2012)": Not spilling

Soldier, could you win back time for me?

2012-01-12T11:12:00.004-07:00

"We women have a lot to learn about simplifying our lives. We have to decide what is important and then move along at a pace that is comfortable for us. We have to develop the maturity to stop trying to prove something. We have to learn to be content with what we are."

- Marjorie Pay Hinckley

Sister Hinckley is just a well of wisdom for me; I draw on her often. The last few weeks, I've been thinking a lot about the new year. I like the idea of a new year, a clean slate, an unwritten manuscript. I like the idea that I can be better than I was last year. I like the idea that I can evolve (or at least try). I take myself FAR too seriously (my husband and my dad are probably getting whiplash agreeing with this statement), and New Year's Resolutions are serious business for me. I've analyzed my life in depth the past month or so, searching for areas that need the most attention. In the process, I've thought a lot about this quote, and what it means to "develop maturity" and be "content with what we are."

One area that I've considered (an area I've considered for years) is possibly getting up early (very difficult for me), before anybody else is up, and getting myself "spiritually" ready for the day. I've often fantasized about how patient, kind, and loving I would be if I were up at 6:00 every morning having read my scriptures, prayed earnestly in my closet, showered, hair done, make-up on, dressed in real clothing. Can't you just see me gently and lovingly waking every child up (having laid all clothing out the night before) and enjoying a non-rushed, homemade, healthy breakfast. I even envisioned purchasing special breakfast place mats that I set the night before, inviting my family to begin the day by sitting around the table together. Homework done the night before, permission slips signed and cozily tucked away in folders inside backpacks. Lunches made the night before and anxiously waiting in the refrigerator. No mad dash for missing shoes; no panicking because we are out of bread (again); no "Oops! I forgot I have a book report due today. It's supposed to be a life-size diorama made out of nonperishable food." In my mind, this would be the secret to our success.

I let this idea mull around for a few days. One morning, over Christmas vacation, I was lying in bed with Spencer on one side and Kade on the other. Eventually, Paige and Macy came in and surrounded Greg. The boys have developed this habit of waking up in the morning (it was consistently 7:15 on the dot for a few months) and coming into our bed. They like to climb all the way in and pull all of the "cubbers" up to their little chins. Spencer is a natural snuggler and wraps both arms around my neck and holds on for several minutes. My favorite mornings are when he whispers his first words of the day: "I wake up. I love you, Mama." Kade is getting better at the snuggling, and likes to play with my ear. Especially over Christmas Break (when we didn't have to get up to get ready for school), we lingered in bed for a long time.

It was one of these mornings that I made the mature decision that getting up early and having a "Leave it to Beaver" breakfast is NOT the best thing for our family. This is not the time nor season for perfect order. This IS the time and season for snuggling in bed with my babies. My favorite Christmas album this year was Mindy Gledhill's "Winter Moon." I love the song "Little Soldier:"

Little soldier under the tree

Play a Christmas song for me

All the house is slumbering deep

but I have secrets I must keep

Father time comes creeping in

We fight back but he will win

If I asked one Christmas wish then it would be

Soldier, could you win back time for me?

Little soldier, tap, tap your beat

I will stand on Daddy's feet

We will dance as if I were ten

Even if it's just pretend

Father time comes creeping in

We fight back but he will win

If I asked one Christmas wish then it would be

Soldier, could you win back time for me?

I've made the executive decision that it is important for me to enjoy these last few months of snuggle time with my babies. I know that means rushed breakfasts and we'll be lucky if the kids get their hair brushed before running out the door. I know that means that I will be beg for just "5 more minutes" of warmth and love during these cold mornings, which means that I will be frantically making lunches in my bathrobe and serving cold cereal instead of whole-grain oatmeal. I've decided that I am comfortable with this pace.

When I started having my kids, I did not realize how short of a time-span that I will have little ones in my presence. That morning in my bed, I realized that we've only got a few more months (maybe a year) when I will have toddlers that actually want to snuggle with me. Then, these precious moments will be gone. Forever. I'm sure other precious moments will replace them, but this phase will be over. I've decided to relish it.

I am content with this decision.

Goodbye 2011...OR...A Post as Long as a Year

2011-12-31T19:44:00.060-07:00

As 2011 comes to a close, I realize what a terrible blogger I've been. So, here are a few highlights that I missed:

These two kept us laughing (ALL...THE...TIME):

BFFs in matching outfits:

Celebrated Valentines Day:

Greg (I mean Austin) lost the battle of the Pinewood Derby:

Someone stopped sucking her thumb (in what could possibly be my biggest mistake of motherhood):

Checked out the zoo (with Nana and Maddie):

Painted our faces (occasionally, on purpose):

Tumbled a bit:

Swam a bit:

Played some baseball:

Did a little babysitting (I'm a really good babysitter, especially when chocolate is involved):

Everybody had a birthday:

A perfect day on the lake with some great friends:

Saw some dinosaurs:

Hung out in the backyard. It's small (that's an understatement), but the kids like it.

Paige may or may not have brushed her hair this year:

Watched a little TV ("How to Train Your Dragon" and "Dinosaur Train" among the favorites).

We checked out some goblins with some great friends:

Spencer stole his first kiss:

And hiked to a few arches (Utah is truly a beautiful place to live)! We learned Spencer is part-monkey, and I am capable of walking miles (literally...miles) with a finger in my ear:

Got a new sister when Gavin married Amber in September:

Got to see my favorite singer with my favorite Marianne! Said Goodbye to Grandpa, but got to see family.

Enjoyed a Thanksgiving Tea Party with Miss Pie (Abby's "Tea Party Name" for Nana).

Watched Frosty (or "Bosty" as the twins call it) 348 times:

Thank you to all of you who are a part of our lives. Here's to a wonderful year! Full of adventure, learning experiences, good health, change, some yelling, occasional crying, but overall a very blessed life.

Alf Gifts

2011-12-23T18:06:00.003-07:00

Every year, we have what I like to call "Alf Gifts." When I was in college, my little sister was in 1st grade. Madeline was such a shy, reserved little girl, but she has always had a big heart. At Christmastime at her elementary school, they set up a little store where the kids could purchase gifts for friends or family members for super cheap. Maddie took her own money and bought a gift for myself, Lisa, and Alexie. On Christmas morning, she wanted all of us to open it at the same time while she hid behind my mom. So, on the count of three, we all ripped open a plastic Alf keychain. It was a very tender moment and hilarious moment at the same time. We all tried so hard not to laugh (because Maddie was so sensitive about being laughed at), and we all gushed at our gift to an adorable little girl who didn't even know who Alf was. I still have the keychain in my drawer, and it means so much to me. So, whenever someone gives a gift truly from the heart (without realizing the hilarity of the situation), I am reminded of the Christmas of the Alf keychain.

This year, Macy brought this card home from her school party. She picked it out for Paige because Paige LOVES penguins. She has had the obsession for years!!! So, clearly, Macy hand-picked this card with her sister in mind. It was so sweet and thoughtful.

Then, Macy asked us to read it outloud to Paige. So, I read what Macy had written (so carefully in her alternating red and green marker). Then, Macy asked me to read the words that were already written. That's where the Alf moment came in. I did my best not to laugh, and the situation was completely lost on Macy.

I absolutely love it! Merry Christmas everyone. May your day be filled with peace, happiness, and a little Alf.

Facebook Funnies

2011-11-26T09:07:00.002-07:00

Macy: "So Mom, is Dad allergic to ALL kinds of horses? Like...ponies and unicorns?"

Paige: "Mom, how do birds cry?" When I couldn't answer, she said, "I think I know." Then she started tweeting in a really quiet, high-pitched voice.

Paige: "Dad, you know everything. Well, you know almost everything. Jesus really knows everything."

Austin: "Mom, I noticed some of the pajama bottoms you got me say 'flame resistant,' and I wanna test it out."

Paige (to the twins who are yelling in their highchairs): "If you are quiet, you'll get a treat. If you are loud, you'll get stolen by the monsters."

Me: "Paige! Please don't wipe your blueberry fingers on your dress."

Paige: "I didn't. I wiped them on the chair."

Paige: "Santa knows everything. Well...he knows almost everything. Jesus really knows everything. Santa just knows when your good and bad and when you're sleeping."

Austin (to his friend): "I love Katy Perry. In fact, I love the whole Perry family."

Macy: "Mom, how are girls and boys different? You know...besides the hair?"

Macy to Papa: "When I get married, I want a boy with muscles."

Macy: "Mom, do you know the definition of 'eardropping'?" Me: "I think you mean 'eavesdropping'." Macy: "No, I mean 'eardropping.' It means if I listen to your phone call without you knowing."

At Grandpa's funeral, Macy stepped in a huge puddle. Her entire foot got wet. I said, "Oh no! You're all wet!" Macy's response: "Oh well. At least it's not my favorite foot."

Macy (on a snowy day in April): "I just wish there was a button we could push that would move the Earth and it could be Summer. Then it wouldn't snow anymore."

I was doing Macy's hair in our bathroom. We heard Greg whistling in the kitchen. Macy looked up at me and said (in reference to the whistling): "Do you know what that means in bird language...It means 'I love you, Macy'." Later on, when I was telling Greg about it, he laughed and said to Macy: "How did you know." Without missing a beat, and as matter-of-factly as possible, she said, "I speak 'Bird'."

Macy wanted to wear shorts after school. She put some on that were WAY too short. I told her she needed to change. She said, "Okay. I'll put on some Capri Suns."

Paige (right before Easter): "Mom, can you tell Santa to tell the Easter Bunny to bring me this many (holding up her fingers and toes) chocolates for Easter?"

I overheard this conversation:

Macy to Paige: "Oh no! Don't hold up THAT finger. It's your 'Swear Finger'." Turning to Greg and myself, Macy said: "Paige held up her 'Swear Finger' but it was just an accident. Don't worry, she won't do it again. It was just an accident."

Greg took Macy out on a Daddy/Daughter Date for her birthday. They went to Disney on Ice and planned to get something to eat before. Macy said, "Can we go somewhere and get steak?"

Macy (at church): "Brother Valentine must have been borned on Valentine's Day."

Macy: "Mom, what is the name of our president?" Me: "President Obama." Macy: "I think I should pray for him."

Macy: "Being in jail is worser than having a mom."

Macy to Greg: "When we die, the vampires are going to live with Satan and the good people are going to live with Jesus." Greg told Macy that vampires aren't real. Her response: "Well, bats are real."

Greg to Paige: "You better watch it!" Paige to Greg: "What are going to do...blind me with pepper spray?"

Macy walked into the bathroom after a warm shower and said: "The mirror is sweating."

Paige was singing her own version of "The Grinch" song: "She's a mean one...Mr. Mom."

I was cleaning out the kids backpacks and found a math assignment. At the top, it read: Name: Macy, Grade: 1st, Date: Oct 32nd

For the 150th time today, I asked Paige to do something and she did the complete opposite. I said, "Paige! I really need to you listen and obey." Her response: "Okay Mom. I will listen on Saturday."

Paige (while watching a storm): "Mom! The clouds are all dirty!"

Austin took inventory of the kitchen today. After his assessment, he took a post-it note and wrote a shopping list: apples, cream, grapefrute, cheese, eggs, yogurt, 3 pieces of candy, red milk, and chireeos.

Macy (this morning over breakfast): "Mom, it's kind of like you're a maid, but you're really a mom. It's like we are the kids that own a maid. But, we're really kids who own parents."

Macy is reading "The Grinch" to Paige. I just heard her say that they climbed to the top of Mount Everest.

Grandma sent chocolate advent calendars. Macy just said: "Mom, I have to wait until Day 11 for another chocolate because I ate 10 of them."

Thankful 4: 41+

2011-11-24T09:50:00.003-07:00

When I started the list, I had no idea it would turn into three separate posts. I just thought I could make a quick list, but then I realized how there is really so much. We had some fabulous talks in church last Sunday about being grateful "in all things," and not just for the good things. They talked a lot about how blessings can be trials as well. I've thought a lot about what that means and how I can be thankful for my trials and the trials of our family have been blessings. I've come to realize that a lot of the things on my "good things" list can also easily be a part of my "trials" list. It is all about perspective. For instance, some days, my five children are my greatest blessings, other times, my five children are my greatest trials.

Our wonderful Bishop posted this on Facebook today with his comment of "Isn't is amazing how our perspectives are changed for the better when we allow gratitude to permeate our hearts!":

"Mercies and blessings come in different forms-sometimes as hard things. Yet the Lord said, 'Thou shalt thank the Lord thy God in all things.' D&C 59:7; All things means just that: good things, difficult things-not just some things. He has commanded us to be grateful because He knows being grateful will make us happy. This is another evidence of His love." - Bonnie D. Parkin

Without getting too personal over the Internet, on this Thanksgiving Day, I really want to express gratitude for the trials that I've experienced over the past year. So, while being somewhat vague to protect the innocent (wink, wink), here we go:

I am grateful that we have a home that could accomodate a few extra occupants part of the year. I'm grateful that my boys have a cousin that is more like a brother (they all love each other and sometimes they want to strangle each other). I'm grateful to spend winter evenings with my sister. It was nice to have an extra hand to help fold laundry, laugh at ridiculous TV shows, and just talk about our day. I'm grateful that we were able to laugh at a lot of situations (like when Lisa and Greg "solved crimes together").
I am grateful for forgiveness. I am grateful that Lisa has forgiven me for my outbursts, frustration, and passionate reactions while living in such close quarters. I am grateful that my kids forgive me daily for my shortcomings as a mother. I am especially grateful to be a member of a marriage where apologies and true forgiveness is a daily act. I am grateful to be married to a man who can easily see the best in me and quickly forgive my shortcomings.
I am grateful for repentance. I greatly appreciate how difficult it is to change. I have developed bad habits over the years, and I have to repent of the same thing on a regular basis. I am grateful to have a testimony of the Atonement. I am grateful for faith and hope in the belief that eventually I will be able to overcome my bad habits, by temper, and my inability to love unconditionally. I'm grateful for a husband, family, and friends who are patient and accept my apologies. I'm grateful for loving Heavenly Father for His love and patience.
I am grateful to have grown up in a ward family that fasted on behalf of my family. I am grateful to feel the faith and love of hundreds of people in order to strengthen our family. It was such a humbling and loving experience.
I am grateful for the incredible ward members and friends of both of my sisters who have stepped in and helped when it was just too overwhelming for our own little family to accomplish everything that needed to get done. I have learned so much by watching how others serve our family.
I am grateful that I have found some answers as to how my body works and what I can do to be more healthy. There have been ups and downs as I have experimented, but I am becoming more educated and that is always a blessing.
I am grateful for modern medicine and how it has blessed my family. It has given us hope and helped several people better cope with their situations. I had a really dangerous, scary experience with some powerful medication this year. It made me more compassionate toward people that become addicted to dangerous substances. I realized how we have to be so careful to listen to our own body and take the initiative to speak up if something doesn't seem right. I am grateful for good friends and family for their patience and speaking up on my behalf.
I am grateful for my shortcomings (that is so difficult to write). There is nothing like having five kids to bring out every one of those shortcomings every single day. I am grateful that my husband is able to compensate for my shortcomings.
I am grateful that I have been given opportunities to do things that are really scary and difficult. I don't like it when people don't like me. I have spent nearly my entire adult live overcoming my need to say "yes" to everything and try to please everyone. I have made enemies, and yet I have been able to stand up for what I believe is right and voice my convictions. It took a lot of prayer and self-induced-pep-talks and encouragement from Greg, but I am grateful for these opportunities. I have grown.
I am grateful for my body. I'm grateful for the health issues I've been given, but I'm mostly grateful that I am healthy and strong - for the most part. I'm grateful that, over the years, I have found ways to deal with some of my health issues. I'm grateful for my bad back because it forces me to exercise which is good for my emotional health. It also forces me to know my limits (which has never been easy for me). I'm even learning to be grateful for the trivial with my body. I look at pictures, and that person in the picture seems to look older than I feel. But I'm grateful for all the lines on my face - I've earned them. I'm grateful for the love handles (also very difficult to write) because I came by them as a result of having children.
I am grateful for the opportunity to be there when Coleman was born. I know it was hard for my sister and her husband, and it has been a blessing/trial for my sister to have to take care of an entire family and a baby. I am grateful that he was born when he was.
I am grateful to have learned a little better how to listen to the voice of the Spirit (still working on figuring it all out). I've learned just as much from the times I didn't listen as when I did. It is something I really want to learn how to do better, and I'm grateful that I have been given time to figure it out.
I am grateful that I was given five loud, energetic, opinionated, independent children. I have heard stories about kids that are meek and shy and believe anything their parents tell them; no such children abide in my home. I am grateful for the challenge of figuring them out and making constant adjustments to help them, teach them, and love them.

Even though I have been incredibly long-winded these past few days, I am grateful for a week of considering all of my blessings. At dinner today, I realized how Thanksgiving is the perfect introduction to the Christmas holiday season. How brilliant that we start a season where we celebrate the birth of Christ, where charity and love increases (but also has the potential to become a selfish time), with a holiday devoted to counting our blessings. I have counted so many, and have thought of dozens more that haven't been written.

I am thankful.

Thankful 4: 21-40

2011-11-23T12:00:00.002-07:00

The list continues...

#21 I am so grateful that it isn't last year. So very grateful. It was really hard. Enough said.

#22 I am grateful for the gospel. I am grateful for the things that I believe and know. I am grateful for prayer and the experiences I've had that are mine alone that let me know the truth of the gospel.

#23 I am grateful for the challenge from the Stake Presidency to read parts of the Bible and Book of Mormon by the end of the year. We are reading with Austin, and we have had some really great discussions.

#24 I am grateful that Greg has worked so hard this year to get healthy. Not only is he hot, but so much happier. It has taken so much determination, and I greatly admire him.

#25 I am extremely grateful for TV. It's true. This is the way I veg-out at the end of the day. It's really nice to get involved in "pretend" drama.

#26 I am extremely grateful for TV. It's true. I'm so grateful that I gave it two numbers. I admit that sometimes the TV is the only thing that saves me during the day with my kids. Bless you, PBS. Bless you, Disney Channel. Bless you, creators of DVD players. And most of all...Bless you, DVR masterminds.

#27 I am grateful for Greg's job. I am grateful that we can pay the bills. I'm grateful that he is willing to take on the pressure of supporting our family.

#28 I am grateful that I am able to be a stay-at-home Mother. I am grateful that I am able to be a stay-at-home Mother. I am grateful that I am able to be a stay-at-home Mother.

#29 I am grateful to live in the United States of America. I have become a little disillusioned by the court system and there is a reason why (in Nov 2011), the US Congress has a 9% approval rating. Even so, I am grateful for our country. I am grateful that I have the freedom to express my thoughts and feelings. I am grateful that I have the freedom to make choices. I am grateful for the inspired documents that our country was founded upon. I am grateful that I can raise my children without fear.

#30 I am grateful for all of the men and women (and their families) who make the sacrifice to serve in the military. I'm grateful for everyone that has served in the past and those that are currently serving. I have nothing but respect for our soldiers. Thank you on behalf of me and my family.

#31 I am grateful for all the people that teach my children. I'm grateful for their teachers and leaders at church; I'm grateful for their teachers and administrators at school; I'm grateful for everyone who loves them and teaches them.

#32 I'm thankful for food. I really like food. I'm specifically grateful for smooth, silky chocolate and pastries and Breyers ice cream.

#33 I'm thankful for indoor plumbing. I just can't imagine...

#34 I'm grateful for books. Call me old fashion, but I like the feel of paper in my hands. I like the idea of "cuddling up" with a good book. I love getting sucked into the lives of characters so much that I don't want the book to end because I have to say goodbye to good friends. I like to relish a good book. And I like that this entry makes my two TV entries seem not quite so scandalous.

#35 I'm grateful for dishwashers. I'm grateful for clothes washers and dryers. I'm grateful for refrigerators and freezers. I'm grateful for microwaves. All these fabulous devices make my life so much easier.

#36 I'm grateful for music. I'm grateful to be able to sing to my kids (whether they like it or not). I'm grateful for the opportunities to see some of my favorite singers live this year. I'm grateful that my parents filled my life with music, and Greg has carried on that tradition. I'm grateful for Austin's piano teacher. I'm grateful to Austin for filling our home with music on a daily basis.

#37 I'm grateful that the Malibu finally died this year. It died a few months earlier than we planned (financially), but it was time to say goodbye. I'm grateful to Greg for sacrificing his manhood to drive a car all those years, and I'm grateful that he was finally able to get his truck. It makes him so happy. Thereby, it makes both of us so happy.

#38 I'm grateful that our children go to bed relatively easily. In general, I'm a 7-0'clock-type-of-mother. So, making it to an 8 o'clock bedtime is tough for me most days. So having a solid bedtime routine (that our kids seem to buy into), is truly a tender mercy.

#39 I am grateful for my Apple computer. I love her. She is so fun to play with.

#40 I am so very grateful (to the point that I am getting emotional just typing the words) that our family has been blessed with good health this past year. We have been without health insurance since last November, and have hit a few dead ends in our quest to obtain health insurance. We have not had to go to the doctor at all this year (and we had three 1-year-olds living in our house last winter). Every morning we pray for "health and safety." I can assure you that those words have not been trite repetitions this past year. I am grateful.

Thankful 4: 1-20

2011-11-22T16:02:00.008-07:00

Every year, I write letters to Greg and each of my children and put it in their stockings on Christmas morning. It's priceless to watch my little ones bypass the candy, the presents, the excitement and run to their stockings to retrieve the most precious gift of the season: words from their mother. Hahaha. I know they will appreciate it one day, and I honestly don't do it for them. I do it for me. I feel like nurturing is not my strong suit and this is the best way I know to express my feelings. Plus, I really like words.

Anyway...My letters to Greg are undoubtedly the most difficult to write. The emotion is so strong as I try to express my gratitude to him. I feel so blessed that he has promised to walk by my side in this life. I'm grateful that I don't have to do it alone. Nearly every year, I start his letter with something like: "What a year it has been!" or "I can't believe what we've been through this year!" It looks like this year's letter will start similarly. It's been a roller-coaster of a ride, and my emotions have been a roller-coaster in and of themselves. In contemplating the last year, here is my much-too-honest list of things I am grateful for this Thanksgiving season:

#1 Greg: He is so good for me. He is generous, loving, affectionate, strong, laughs easily, and seems to make me laugh easily. I love him.

#2 Austin: He has overcome a lot this past year, and I'm grateful for his efforts. He has the most tender heart in our family and is sensitive to the feelings of others. He is coming into his sense of humor, and it's surprising and fun to hear some of the quips he comes up with. I love him.

#3 Macy: The best way to describe her is Indian Cuisine - she is spicy! She is personality times a million, and she keeps life fun and challenging. She adores her daddy and friends. I love her.

#4 Paige: This child talks nonstop and is hilarious! She is meticulous, overly observant, and fiercely independent. She thinks deeply and likes to problem solve. She reminds me of Buddy the Elf: "We elves try to stick to the four main food groups: candy, candy canes, candy corns, and syrup." I love her.

#5 Spencer: He is my cuddliest child. He loves to climb in bed with me in the mornings, put his arms around me, and hold on...for minutes on end. He loves to give hugs and kisses. He throws tantrums with his entire body but not much sound. He is talking up a storm. I love him.

#6 Kade: He takes the responsibility of youngest child very seriously (even though he only made it by a few minutes). Pretty much, if someone else will do it for him (get him something, feed him, talk), he'll let them. He is unbelievably stubborn, excuse me "determined," but funny. He likes being the clown. I love him.

#7 My dad: It has become obvious to me, as I've started "growing up," that my dad knows a lot about true bravery and sacrifice. I love him.

#8 My mom: She is my greatest mentor, not only in motherhood but in life. She is the glue (as my dad would say). She has had a difficult year, but has come out of it stronger and more faithful. I'm grateful that she can love my children so unconditionally. I love her.

#9 My in-laws: While no family is perfect, I am truly grateful for Greg's parents. I'm grateful for their examples, the choices they've made, their faithful legacy, and their overwhelming generosity. I love them.

#10 Lisa: I am so blessed to have had someone with me my entire life. She is beautiful, talented, and an incredible Mom. I'm grateful for all of the ups and downs of the past year, and I'm grateful that we have been there for each other. I love her (and Cash, who is like my 6th child).

#11 Alexie: She is so strong! She teaches me constantly about the true meaning of love. I am grateful for the trials of the past year because we have grown closer. She has always been my best partner in dissecting a problem or an issue or even just a topic. Her opinions are thought-provoking and passionate. I love her (and her cute kiddos who make me smile all the time).

#12 Gavin: He has overcome so much the past few years, and I'm grateful for his example of perseverance. He is always willing to lend a hand, and goes about doing so much good. I'm grateful that he married Amber. It was a beautiful day and a highlight of the year. I love him.

#13 Madeline: She has my favorite name. I am grateful that she is living closer again, and that we get to spend more time together. I love her vibrant personality, and the ability to say anything at any moment. It's so refreshing! And she is so funny. Really. Hilarious. I love her.

#14 My Grandpa and the chance we had to celebrate his life. I'm grateful that his funeral was such a perfect celebration of his life. I'm grateful that I got to say goodbye to him and express my love one last time. I'm grateful that he occasionally visits me in my dreams. Last night, in my dream, he was in the corner of the room, and I wondered why we hadn't heard him play is guitar lately. I went to get his guitar and tried to give it to him, but he handed it back to me and gestured that he was just there to watch. So, I handed the guitar off to my aunt, and my grandpa just sat there in the corner, smiling. I am grateful to have been so close to him, and I'm grateful that my older children will remember him. I love him.

#15 My grandmothers: They are both struggling with Alzeimers, and my mom has been in charge of both of them (well, my mom and my aunt). It is difficult to be grateful for this disease as it is so exhausting and frustrating for all involved. I can be grateful for the fact that this trial has reiterated to our entire family that a loving Father in Heaven knows us, knows our needs, and does answer our prayers (even if we have to struggle figuring out the answers). I do love them.

#16 My aunts, uncles, cousins, cousins-in-law, and their kids: We are a small group, but the past year has brought several struggles that have brought us closer. I am grateful to have grown up around family and truly enjoy each other's company after all these years. I am grateful for the good people that surround me, for their faith, brave choices, and good examples. I love them.

#17 Jen and her family: I hope I don't embarrass her by putting this on my blog, but I am so grateful to have made such a close friend. She knows me better than anyone, has witnessed by best side (and plenty of opportunities to witness my "not-so-best-side" and often my "downright-evil-side") and she loves me anyway. She is honest with me, builds me up, is a deep and intriguing philosopher, and would do anything for me or my kids. She is a fabulous example of a loving mother, a true humanitarian, a talented photographer, and an amazing wife. I'm so grateful the Lord brought her and Jasper and all of their kids to West Jordan to bless my life. I love her.

#18 Our Ward and Neighborhood: I am truly grateful to be surrounded by so many good-to-the-core people. We have lived in our home for nearly 11 years, and some amazing friends have moved away, but I'm grateful to keep in touch with them. I love all the friends I've made, and I love going out with them occasionally. They really make me laugh. We have some fabulous memories. My neighbors are incredible - the food, the lawn-mowing, the treats for my kids (more importantly, the love and acceptance shown to my kids), and the amazing examples of service and love. I am grateful that my kids have so many good friends that come from amazing families. I'm grateful to all those parents that welcome my kids and their chaos into their homes. My mom told me once that she always loves coming to our ward because everyone is so kind and a true spirit of love exists. It's so true. I love being around so many incredible people.

#19 My home: It keeps us warm in the winter and cool in the summer. We have everything we need and a whole lot more. It's nothing extravagant, but I like it and we seem to make a lot of good memories.

#20 Home videos: Greg has been so diligent in taking home videos over the years. Last Saturday, the kids got them out and before we knew it, it was an hour and a half past bedtime. It was so fun to see the kids over the years and remember why we love each other.

# 20 1/2 Pictures: I am so grateful for photography and pictures. I'm grateful to have images and moments caught in time. They bring back so many emotions and memories. We had our family pictures taken in October, and I love the way they turned out. Thanks again, Jen (Fauset Photography).

Okay, so these items haven't exactly been "honest." This list actually evolved more on the sappy side. But just you wait until tomorrow...

Kids Catch-Up

2011-11-15T11:15:00.004-07:00

I can't believe I didn't post anything in October. Life has been crazy. Here are a few pictures (and by "few" I mean "a ton") of the kids the last few months.

The kids started school in August. Paige is attending her second year of preschool at Sunshine Square. Her teacher this year is Miss Melissa. She is sugar sweet at honey pie, and Paige loves her. Paige really loves school. It is right down her alley (she is probably my first child where school is the perfect fit). Paige loves working on meticulous projects, and she loves, loves, loves anything artsy craftsy (it's unfortunate that she was sent to a mother who is art-challenged). Paige has recently become enamored with writing her name and her letters. She writes lists and lists, as Macy tells her how to spell things. She desperately wants to learn to read, and I should get my act together and teach her. Every day Miss Melissa just gushes about how wonderful Paige is and how she is a good worker and a nice, polite friend. (Paige must get exhausted being so good at school because she seems to save her 4-year-old, stinker-pot behavior just for her Mama.) It's a good thing she's so darn adorable:

Austin started 5th Grade and is in Ms. DeMille's class. I absolutely love his teacher. For the first time since starting school, Austin has a teacher that "gets" him and believes in him and knows how to teach to him and inspire him. It is an answer to several years of prayers. The first few days of school, Austin went in with a chip on his shoulder, with the attitude of: "Well, you're the teacher and I'm the imperfect student and we are going to make each other's lives miserable for the next 10 months." After about a week, I saw him soften. Ms. DeMille won him over. Austin is fiercely loyal, and he has a talent for "reading" people. If he doesn't trust you, then he just shuts down (when you look into his eyes, they seem empty; he disappears). But if he does trust you, there is nothing he won't do for you. He still struggles with staying on task and anything related to writing, but he is improving. More importantly, he is enjoying school and looks forward to going. He is talking to us again about what happens at school. It's been such a positive experience.

Macy is in second grade this year and has Ms. Henkels. Confession: It is November, and I have yet to meet Ms. Henkels. I know...horrible, negligent mother. It's true. Macy is doing fine in school. I get reports that she talks too much (if you pull out my elementary school report cards, they ALL say that I talk too much). School is a social outlet for this little socialite, and if she happens to learn something along the way, then that will be a happy coincidence. But she's really there for the people. More specifically, the boys. They are learning how to write form letters. Once a week, one of her homework assignments is to write a letter to someone in her class. I have yet to see her write one to a girl. There are twin boys in her class: Weston and Wyatt. She wrote Wyatt a letter, complimenting him on his soccer skills and telling him how funny he is. Then, she happened to ask if Weston "liked" her. Macy told me that Ms. Henkels asked if she could read the letters aloud in class. Macy said: "I told her 'no' because that would be really embarrassing." This girl has life oozing out of her fingertips. She is hilarious!

Showing off her backpack. She is really into peace signs these days. This was the best that I could do:

The kids thought it would be really funny to play a joke. They handed Paige their First-Day-0f-School signs so we would think that she was in 2nd grade and 5th grade.

For Halloween this year, I did something that I have never done: I coordinated our costumes. Macy wanted to be Alice in Wonderland (wearing the dress that Alexie really wore in the 80s when she was Macy's age), and it just kind of ballooned from there. Austin originally thought he was "too cool" to participate in this family endeavor, but at the last minute (the night before the Ward Halloween Party), he changed his mind. The players are: Austin as the Mad Hatter, Macy as Alice, Paige as the white rabbit (isn't her giant stopwatch adorable), Spencer and Kade as Tweeledee and Tweedledum, Emily as the Red Queen, and Greg as a Card Guard - painting the roses red. It was really fun and actually came together quite easily.

A few months ago, Alexie needed her crib back so her baby (then about 7-8 months old) would finally have a place to sleep. We had no choice but to retire the crib that Greg and his dad made, and has been in our "nursery" since Austin was 4 months old. I may or may not have shed a tear; Greg may or may not have danced a jig. I was incredibly reluctant to put the boys in a traditional bunk bed, but I found this bunk bed at Costco. Instead of a ladder, it has stairs on the side so the entire top bunk is boxed in practically eliminating the possibility of falling out. It has been absolutely perfect. Every night, the boys argue about who gets to go "Up" and tears are shed by the twin who has to sleep "Down." Other than that, they absolutely love being in a big-boy bed. These are a few pictures from the first few weeks, before they caught onto the concept of sleeping in their own beds.

Some days, I think that it's a shame that all of us aren't twins. They have such a fascinating connection, and they always have each other. Sure...they fight and argue like all other 2-year-olds. But they help each other out and just love being together ALL THE TIME. Other days, I'm grateful that every baby isn't born a twin because it would just kill all the Mom's off.

Here are the many faces of Spencer (or "Bence" as we call him around here - coined by Paige). He loves to sit on top of the couch while watching "Yo Gabba" or "Dinosaur Train" or "Rio" (which he calls the "Tweet-Tweet" movie). He walks around quoting a line from that movie. At the most hilarious moments, you can hear Spence saying "Not cool man."

These are some of my favorite pictures of the past year. This is the first time that Kade discovered head phones. Amazingly, at age 2, he can't use the potty, but he can navigate an ipod. His face was priceless as it lit up when a song began. Adorable! And don't you just love the hair!?!

Sneaky

2011-09-28T17:30:00.009-06:00

At my Grandpa's funeral, every one of his children spoke. My mom's oldest brother spoke first and has not been in an LDS church for probably 45 or 50 years. It was kind of a joke that Grandpa got him to stand at a pulpit. Although he was clearly out of his comfort zone, he gave some beautiful thoughts about his father. He talked about how he felt that Grandpa had led a "sneaky" life. To my Uncle Doug, it always seemed that his dad was living a mundane, ho-hum, work-hard-so-you-can-support-your-family kind of life. But as he and his sisters sat around discussing my grandpa's life, my Uncle Doug came to realize that Grandpa had sneakily lived a very full, happy life. Grandpa filled his days with small, seemingly insignificant moments that when added together created a grand portrait.

Sort of like a puzzle. When you open a box containing a 1000 piece puzzle, each individual piece doesn't mean very much. But when constructed, a beautiful image comes to life. My grandpa lived his life at campgrounds, singing around campfires. He spent his days gliding across a glass lake on a slalom ski. He spent nights at Yuma, St. George, Bear Lake, and Escalante swapping hilarious stories and off-color jokes. He spent hours in a fishing boat. He spent Sunday afternoons playing whiffle ball and H.O.R.S.E. with his grandchildren and spitting corn kernels at each of us while he ate corn on the cob and laughed simultaneously. He spent Christmas Eve in the cheapest, most hideous Santa suit you can imagine (generally with one eyebrow falling off). He was so sneaky about his happiness that one could miss it is you weren't looking for it.

I think of my grandpa often as I notice the sneaky moments of my life. A few months ago, we were at Bear Lake. Greg was in the big pool with Austin and Macy throwing them off his shoulders and having "hold your breath" contests (which Greg always wins - hands down [I swear the man has gills]). I was in the baby pool with the youngest three trying not to concern myself too much with the fact that it was significantly warmer than that hot tub or the big pool. When suddenly, a ladybug landed on my hand. I quickly gathered my three littlest hens under my wing to show them this "sneaky" treasure of nature. We probably spent 20 minutes or so passing the ladybug among the four of us. The boys got good at holding out their pointer finger and waiting patiently for the ladybug to climb aboard. They would all watch in wonder as the ladybug made its way up their arm. The lucky bug-holder would squeal with delight as it got closer to their shoulder. Then, I would gingerly take the ladybug in my fingers and pass it along to the next child. They were mesmerized. Every once in a while, the ladybug would fall and land in the water and like little chirping chicks they would point and beg for "Mommy" to save it.

As I sat there, looking into the faces of Paige, Spencer, and Kade, I was kind of sad that I didn't have a camera handy. I wanted to capture this magical moment. The first time my boys experienced a real, live ladybug. Then, I thought of my grandpa. I was determined to remember where I was sitting, the look of sheer amazement in the eyes of my babies (who aren't technically babies, but the word "technically" bugs me), and try to take a mental snapshot of all the details of this precious, "sneaky" moment. I consider ladybugs one of God's most fascinating creations.

The happiest people I know...are those who, while in pursuit of worthy goals, discover and treasure the beauty and sweetness of the everyday moments. They are the ones who, thread by daily thread, weave a tapestry of gratitude and wonder throughout their lives. These are they who are truly happy. - President Dieter F. Uchtdorf

Efficiency

2011-09-14T00:08:00.001-06:00

I came home the other day to find this posted on the hallway bathroom. Is anyone else confused about the smiley face?!?

10 Years

2011-09-11T21:46:00.004-06:00

Growing up, my grandparents would describe where they were and how they felt when they heard that Pearl Harbor had been bombed. For my parent's generation, they can describe where they were and how they felt when they learned about Kennedy being shot. And all of us can describe where we were and how we felt when we saw the planes hit the Twin Towers and watched them fall.

I remember getting a call from Greg, who was at work. When I answered it, he urgently said: "Turn on the TV." I asked him which channel, and he said that it didn't matter. When I turned it on, only the first plane had hit and people were still unsure exactly what had happened. I sat on the couch and watched the North Tower burn. Austin had been born two months earlier, and we had a port-a-crib set up in our living room. He was asleep in the crib. I remember watching the plane hit the South Tower. It happened so fast that even the news reporters were astonished and had trouble getting their mind together to verbalize what was happening. As reporters tried to piece together the stories and theories, I watched in disbelief. Greg and I spoke on the phone a number of times, as he was watching the coverage at work. When the South Tower fell, I remember losing my breath, picking up my brand new, perfect little baby, and just crying. I remember thinking, "What have I done? How could I bring a person into a world where these things happen?" Then, I remember watching and anxiously waiting for the second tower to fall.

It was truly unbelievable.

We had friends in New York, and our first priority was to make sure everybody was safe. I remember being on the phone with my sister as she was trying to make contact with people in New York. We were beyond relieved when we found out that everybody was safe.

I had a friend from work who was on a business trip in Japan. He had taken his wife and two little boys with him (they were babies really - one was an infant and the other a toddler). They had made it to Canada, but were grounded because all air traffic shut down for days after the attacks. it was strange to think that it wasn't safe for them to make it home. Those must have been some extremely long days for them, living in the airport, just wanting to bring their kids home.

About 6 weeks after the attacks, I went to New York with my sister and my friend and her boys. My friend's husband had joined the National Guard, learned Arabic, and was sent to New York to aid in interrogation. She was going to visit, and we decided to tag along. At 3 1/2 months old, I took Austin to a city that I loved that was still very much suffering. We walked to Ground Zero (or at least as close as you could get), which was still very much a recovery zone. The fires were still burning, there was still a considerable amount of dust and debris, and there were giant machines working to move all the rubble. There were walls erected with messages from loved ones of people who had perished, along with flowers and "Missing Person" posters. Most people still wore masks.

Do you know what I remember the most about my time in New York in October 2001: I remember people helping us with our three little boys; carrying strollers down subway steps, gentlemen immediately giving up seats on the subway, strangers asking us our story and expressing their gratitude (many with tears in their eyes) to my friend for her and her husband's service to our country. It was still a very solemn, surreal feeling in that city, but one with so much love, care, and concern. It made me love the people of New York so much more than I already did.

* * *

It has been an interesting couple of days. Austin has been quite fascinated by the events of 10 years ago, and we have showed him some pictures and let him watch some of the TV specials. It's just hard to fathom how that day changed our country and his entire way of life. It is strange to think that my children don't know a reality in which 9 11 didn't exist. I realize that it wasn't the most significant event in history, based on the number of lives lost. I hear some people throw out numbers of those that have died in the military efforts in the Middle East since the attacks on the twin towers (military deaths and civilian deaths). I understand all of these points, and I think they are valid.

But what is hard to explain to my children is that I have lived parts of my life where our country wasn't at war. I have stood in those buildings; I knew people that worked there. I never thought I was in any danger because nobody had successfully carried out a terrorist attack of that magnitude before. You could actually walk your loved one to the gate as they got on an airplane and even watched that exact plane take off. You could attend a baseball game or concert without passing a check-point in which you turned over your purse, bags, and jackets. My children do not know of this reality. I think that when those planes hit the towers that day (and consequently the Pentagon and Flight 93 in Pennsylvania), as a nation, we knew we were vulnerable. We knew that there were people that hated us (as Americans) so much that they would sacrifice their lives to take innocent lives and destroy family.

But what is even harder to explain to my children is that I have had the privilege of getting a very small glimpse into the heart of Americans. I have seen people love each other deeply, regardless of whether or not they are technically "strangers". I have seen a nation pull together, reach out to one another in charity, and actually call upon God collectively. The past 10 years have been rough, and we (as a Nation) have forgotten how we treated each other after these attacks. Life has forced us to move on, to worry about the insignificant, and to criticize the petty. It is human nature to do so, as history has shown us over and over again.

I think it is good to have anniversaries and memorials. It is essential that all of the innocent who died that day are not forgotten. It is important for us to retell, over and over again, the miraculous stories of courage and sacrifice that emerged from this tragedy. It is good for our souls to feel hope. And I believe, that as a Nation, it is necessary for us to try to put all the petty aside again (even if for one day) and recall those feelings and emotions - the good and the bad - and recommit ourselves to doing a little bit better and loving a little deeper because we never know what tomorrow will bring.

In a talk by President James E. Faust, he relates one of the many unselfish, miraculous stories that emerged from the attacks on the World Trade Center. He tells the story of Rick Rescorla of Morgan Stanley who refused to leave the burning building until every one of his employees made it out. Although the tower collapsed before he could evacuate, all but 6 of his 2,700 employees survived the attack. President Faust states that "Most of us don't demonstrate our unselfishness in such a dramatic way, but for each of us unselfishness can mean being the right person at the right time in the right place to render service. Almost every day brings opportunities to perform unselfish acts for others. Such acts are unlimited and can be as simple as a kind word, a helping hand, or a gracious smile."

This is the message that I choose to carry with me from 9 11, and these are the lessons that I hope I am teaching my children.

It is important to simply remember.

Irrational Fears

2011-09-02T21:33:00.004-06:00

So, the other night I walked in the door about a half hour after bedtime to find Paige crying. I picked her up and asked Greg what was wrong. He related the following experience:

Paige (running to Greg and screaming): Macy just punched me in the stomach.

Greg: Why did she punch you in the stomach?

Paige: Because I wanted to know what it felt like to be kicked by a goat.

When we finally got her calmed down (and we both stopped laughing), Paige explained how she was terrified of goats. If she sees one outside, she's just going to run inside as fast as she can. And if she knows if she hears really loud knocking on the door, then it just "has to be a goat."

As a result, she now has to sleep with her door cracked open just in case a goat gets in the house. She wants to know right away so she can take the proper precautions.

* * *

When Austin was about 3 or 4, he developed a deathly fear of scorpions. It did not matter how many times I explained that scorpions do not live in our region (I even checked out books at the library with maps), every night we would go through this routine to get him in bed (and un-convince him that he will be stung by a scorpion in the night). One night, I was so exhausted, that I stopped trying to rationalize. I just grabbed this little, plastic, red hammer toy and handed it to him. I told him it was his "Scorpion Killer." Every night, he would set it up right next to his bed (for easy access), and he slept with the "Scorpion Killer" for years!!!

* * *

What irrational fears have you (or your kids) developed over the years?

Distractions

2011-07-07T10:27:00.006-06:00

I don't know how you feel about these people:

Apparently, they are quite controversial. For the most part, I really admire them. I don't agree with all of their philosophies (and Greg cannot stand that his name is "Jim Bob." Every time the show is on, he always says, "Why doesn't he just go with 'Jim'?" I think his name is actually James, which makes me wonder how one gets "Jim" from "James" or "Bill" from "William" or "Dick" from "Richard". It just doesn't make sense. They aren't shortened nicknames, they are completely different names. Why don't people just name their children the name by which they will be called?).

Anyway...I digress.

I don't agree with all of their philosophies, but I greatly admire parents that are willing to bring so many children into the world and teach them all and love them so much. It boggles my mind how a mother can plan and prepare just to meet the physical needs of 19 children, but Michelle Duggar seems to do that and manage to truly love each child and find joy in having them around with astounding patience and true dedication. It is amazing.

The other day, I had their show on while folding laundry. Doing laundry for 7 people seems so manageable when I compare it to their household. Anyway, during this episode, Jim Bob and Michelle were sitting at the kitchen table trying to finish up their 2nd book. Every couple of minutes, another child came up needing something-a face wiped, a diaper changed, help with some schoolwork, a snack, etc. Then, it had a little clip of Jim Bob (cheerily) explaining that it was a little challenging to get their work done with all of the distractions.

The point of my post and my lesson for the day:

Next, it had a little clip of Michelle responding to her husband's statement. To paraphrase, she said something like this: "Well, I wouldn't call them 'distractions.' The children are our priority; the book is the distraction."

I don't know how many times I am trying to get something done, and I get frustrated and lose my patience because I am distracted by my kids. I don't know how many times I get on the phone or the computer to make an important call or send an necessary email and all chaos breaks loose in the house. The other day, I caught Kade jumping on a bag of chips to get it open while I was trying to fill out insurance papers. Or right now, as I write this, Spencer is "coloring" on the table while Kade is pushing all of our chairs to the corner of the house. The only problem, Spencer was sitting on the chair and I intervened as Spence was holding onto the table by his fingertips. Last week, Paige managed to go through an entire box of Band-Aids during a piano lesson.

I need to change my attitude. These kids are my first priority; everything else comes second. These kids were not given to me to be an afterthought. These kids are my greatest blessings and I have no right getting frustrated when I perceive that they are"interfering" with my life.

The First Concerto

2011-07-03T20:14:00.005-06:00

Love this kid:

He turned 10 yesterday...TEN! I'm not sure how that happened. I remember when I turned 10, and my grandmother told me that I'll be double-digits for the rest of my life. T.E.N. (But more to come on his birthday). I took this picture at swimming:

While I was editing it, it struck me that I'm not looking at a little boy anymore. This is a picture of a big kid. His chest seems wider to me or something. It was a surreal moment.

In May, Austin started with a new piano teacher. When we met for the first time, she was explaining her protocol with me and recitals and festivals, etc. She mentioned that they do a Concerto Festival in November and asked if Austin would be interested. I thought that he would, but didn't think much more about it.

A few weeks later, Austin was assigned his piece for the festival: a 31-page Concerto duet meant for 2 pianos. Granted it is a duet, but still...31-pages?!? When I was 9-years-old, I had never played 31 pages (or even 16 pages, if you account for the duet). In fact, I'm pretty sure that I have never played a piece even close to 16 or 31 pages. I was quite surprised by not only the length, but the difficulty of the piece. After Austin had gone to bed, I sat down and played it. It is a pretty challenging song. I was quite doubtful that he would be able to pull it off. I wondered if perhaps his teacher hadn't evaluated his level correctly or something. Of course I never vocalized any of these doubts in front of Austin, but I was definitely concerned that he had gotten in over his head.

Although he never said anything, Austin was quite overwhelmed at first. But I just tried to be really encouraging and I helped him as he started. The first week, he didn't even play anything; he clapped the rhythm every day. And he just started with the first little section-maybe a page and a half or so. After that, he practiced that small portion with his right hand only. A week later, he started on his left hand. Finally, and very slowly, he practiced his hands together. Once he got that section down, they repeated the process on the next small section of the song. Occasionally, he needs to go back and practice a handful of measures over and over again to perfect the notes or the timing. He just keeps working at it, and before he realizes it, he has another small section learned.

The other day, I picked up the music and realized that he is already 11 pages into this song, essentially 1/3 of the way. I was shocked that by following the process of practicing small chunks, starting slowly and gradually building up to speed, and really focusing on those areas that need a little extra attention, he has progressed quite far in just 2 months. I am absolutely positive that by the time the festival rolls around in November, he'll be ready. I'm so excited to hear the finished product.

I've thought a lot about how this is a parable for our lives. Sometimes, when we are given trials or challenges, it seems like a large mountain stands in our way (or in Austin's case, a 31-page concerto). It seems too overwhelming to conquer if we are looking at the entire scope of the situation. It seems like there are no answers. And yet...we are asked to wake up every morning, get out of bed, put one foot in front of the other, and try our best. We try to conquer just what that day has given us (perhaps a small section of the overall problem or challenge). We take it slowly and carefully and (if we are smart) asking for assistance through prayer. Eventually, we look back and realize that we have actually made a little progress. We realize that the more we try, the more we work, it may even become a little easier (sometimes). We realize that we really have no choice but to try and endure and do our best.

Sister Marjorie Hinckley sums up everything I am trying to say:

There are some years in our lives that we would not want to live again. But even these years will pass away, and the lessons learned will be a future blessing.

God is what He is because He knows everything. And the beautiful thing-perhaps the thing I love most about the gospel-is that everything we learn we can use and take with us and use it again. No bit of knowledge goes wasted. Everything you are learning now is preparing you for something else. Did you know that? What a concept!

Elder Neal A. Maxwell once said, "We are here in mortality, and the only way to go is through; there isn't any around!" I would add, the only way to get through life is to laugh your way through it. You either have to laugh or cry. I prefer to laugh. Crying gives me a headache.

Seasoning

2011-06-08T21:47:00.004-06:00

The other night, the twins were at my feet whining while I was in the kitchen. It was late; they were tired. They were begging for a sippy cup. As I filled two cups and attempted to hand them to the boys, in a fit of fatigue, they both pushed the cups away and simultaneously threw their bodies to the ground. I shrugged and put both of the cups in the middle of the floor and turned around. In a matter of seconds, both boys picked themselves up off the ground, grabbed a sippy, and started chugging. Greg laughed, kissed me on the forehead, and said, "We are such seasoned parents."

It's true.

Nine years ago, I probably would have marched my toddler down the hall to a time-out while lecturing about how we don't slap the sippy cup away. I'd probably mutter something about respecting your Mommy and the importance of using your words instead throwing a fit.

So sorry Austin...I love you, Buddy...I don't know if it's as much experience as it is pure exhaustion.

Do you know what else seasoned parents do? They spray off a puke-infused carseat like it's nobody's business.

Saturday Summary

2011-06-04T22:01:00.006-06:00

We went on a walk this evening. Paige very adamantly exclaimed: "Don't step on a crack, or you'll break Mom's heart." (except she says "heart" like "height")

* * *

I spent the afternoon trimming the shrubs and starting to plant some plants. Greg watched the boys and we listened to the Giants game on his phone on the front porch. As I was pruning our hedge, I suddenly thought of Grandpa. I felt very close to him trimming those plants. For some reason, yard work (especially pruning) reminds me of him. I could just picture him in his nude-colored, too-short shorts working alongside me. It was a lovely moment.

* * *

I went to this store tonight. I should NOT be allowed to enter this store. It is bound to be expensive whenever I walk through the doors of this store. While I was there, I fell in love. Head over heels, butterflies in the stomach, giddy and giggly - in love. (I know Alexie will fall in love as well when I show her.) I discovered this series:

It's called "Poetry for Young People." It features probably around 20 famous poets. Each poem comes with a short summary/background, and the illustrations are beyond delightful. They are little pieces of artwork on every page. The ones I really, really, really wanted and (almost) convinced myself I couldn't live without, are still hardback. So, I bought the one on Animal Poems and the one on Lewis Carroll. I think my children will adore everything from "Alice in Wonderland." It took unbelievable self-restraint to settle on only bringing 2 home. I plan on collecting all of them. Greg is beside himself.

* * *

I bought some more sunscreen this morning. Apparently, Macy took it with her while playing with friends. Tonight, Jackie gave it back to me. It is nearly gone. Not quite sure how much SPF 50 Macy was wearing around today, but I am certain that she did not get a sunburn.

* * *

This is our bath time routine: All four of our youngest kids get in the bathtub together. First, I wash the boys. Then, I wash Macy and Paige's hair and leave the conditioner in. While they wash their bodies, I get the boys out one-by-one. Finally, I rinse the girl's hair and get them out. Whew! The other day, I bathed the boys by themselves. I got Spencer out and all ready for bed. Then, I went in to get Kade out and this is what I found:

* * *

Kade decided to get comfortable at the top of the laundry pile. He has one hand on his ear. This indicates: "Warning: I am getting tired." When both hands hold onto both ears, this is my sign: "I am now ready to be asleep."

* * *

The boys are obsessed with hats and shoes. Typically, both mine and Greg's shoes are strewn throughout the house because either Spencer or Kade have been wearing them. This is Spencer, or "Bence" as we call him. Isn't he adorable! Oh, and the most recent obsessions at our house: cars, trains (choo choo's), and airplanes. All other toys have become obsolete.

Sweet Best

2011-05-29T09:49:00.005-06:00

Sweet Best:

The other day, I was driving Paige to her dance recital. She said, "Mom, you're the 'Sweet Best'." I said, "Thank you." Then, she said, "Do you know what that means?" I honestly didn't, but it sounded like a compliment, so I just went with it. She said, "That means you're a good Mom." Awww...It meant so much to me (especially since I was just dropping her off at her dance recital and wasn't going in to watch-she had another one about a month ago, but we were quadruple-booked for the evening, so Greg and I couldn't attend).

Pretty:

When I was dropping her off for the dance recital, she was meeting Alexie and Abby. She said, "Alexie is going to think I'm so pretty." I told her that she is always pretty, with her gorgeous brown eyes and adorable smile. She said, "I know...except when I'm crying...or mad." When I dropped her off, she and Abby ran to each other (squealing with delight) and hugged. Hilarious!

Delicious:

One of our favorite shows is Tangled. Paige sings along with all the songs. There is one song called, "I Have a Dream" that begins with the following lyrics:

I'm malicious, mean, and scary

My sneer could curdle dairy

This is how Paige sings it:

I'm delicious, mean, and scary

My smile could turtle hairy

Heart Happy

2011-05-27T19:52:00.002-06:00

I walked out the front door last night and saw this. It made my heart so happy. There were 6 or 7 boys playing whiffleball in the street. They used sidewalk chalk to draw in the bases and pitcher's mound. They decided to only have two bases instead of three because there weren't enough people playing. They took turns in every position. They argued over calls and complimented big hits. It was adorable!

It made me think of this:

It made me think that maybe we really can raise these kids in a world where, every once in a while, they can put down their DS, their ipads, their computer games, and all the pressure that we put on them, and just enjoy a fun game of street baseball.

Happy.

Clubs

2011-05-19T19:16:00.005-06:00

I walked past the girl's room this afternoon and saw this:

I had a couple of thoughts:

#1:

#2:

#3:

Warning

2011-05-13T11:33:00.002-06:00

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about those signs that they have in industrial workplaces. The ones that indicate how many days the company/plant/division has gone without an on-the-job accident.

I've been considering posting something similar in my kitchen:

I'm thinking that "Days" may be a little too ambitious. Perhaps "Hours" would be more realistic.

He's Not Heavy, He's My Brother

2011-05-13T11:00:00.008-06:00

Life has been too heavy lately. I have felt heavy. Getting out of bed every morning has been a challenge. I find myself dreading the day, and it feels so strange to even smile. It's been a rough go. Time to change. Time to smile. Time to laugh. Time to let my children exist in a happy home.

So...

I turn to my good friend, the blog. I've decided that I am going to start look for opportunities throughout the day to blog about. Like this morning, I vacuumed and mopped as soon as the kids left for school. I started with the kitchen, and while I was working on another part of the house, Paige decided that she wanted some milk. True to form, Paige didn't ask for help but decided to do it herself. This would be a disastrous situation in and of itself (given that Paige is possibly the most adorable, most clumsy child I've yet to encounter), but we opened a new gallon of milk this morning. Yep. That's right. Milk, all over the kitchen floor. Ironically, there was not one drop in the small cup that she chose. Obviously the person who coined the phrase, "Don't cry over spilled milk" never had a Paige.

Now, to my credit (I mean, I deserve a TON of credit), I didn't yell. But, how much funnier would it have been if I would have stopped, snapped a picture of the clean floor, milk pool, the empty carton, and the bright, shiny, spotless cup in the middle of the disaster?!?

I started this blog with the idea that it would be cheaper than therapy. In the past several months, I've started a dozen or so posts, but I felt that I couldn't publish them because they weren't honest. I certainly don't pretend that our family is perfect-far from it actually. But because I was/am feeling so bad about myself, anything that showed happiness, I felt that it was a lie. How backward is that??? The fact is that we have 9 people living in this house; 9 personalities...9 bodies with hormones and tummy aches and headaches and bodies that get tired and rarely get enough sleep...9 social networks...9 schedules...and at least 18 loads of laundry. There is so much good that happens during the day, so many funny situations, and so many hilarious conversations. And there are some really difficult, exhausting, downright messy moments every.single.day.

So, here is my public admission that I will look for those little moments during the day to blog about. I will start my "Grateful" section again, and update the funny things that my kids say.

I will search for the joy again.

I will find it.

I really need new carpet, so I can't be blowing that money on a therapist.

Grandpa

2011-04-17T14:11:00.010-06:00

My Grandpa passed away on Wednesday, April 13th. He was diagnosed with cancer nearly a year ago. They tried a few different types of chemotherapy and treatment, but the cancer continued to grow. My mom and her sister's decided that it would be best for him to be home at the end. The three of them, along with my Grandmother, were by his bedside when he left this world. Thank heaven for hospice nurses that do their job with such care so that people can have this type of opportunity. We were extremely blessed to have my cousin's husband, Ed, take care of my Grandpa. I had the chance to stand by his bedside on Monday and say Goodbye. While he wasn't awake, I really felt like he could hear me and be there with me. It was one of the most tender experiences I've had, and I'm so grateful to have been able to be there.

I was also able to be there on Wednesday night before he left, but I didn't feel his presence as strong as a few nights prior. As I sat and talked with my Grandma, siblings, mom, and aunts, I thought of the movie "Lars and the Real Girl" (which sounds like a strange premise, but is such an adorable, tender movie). There's a scene in the movie when Lars's "girlfriend" is dying and the women of the town come to his house bearing casseroles and just hang around while working on their knitting. When Lars asks what they are doing, the women say "sitting." They explain that's what people do when there's a death-they sit; they are simply there to be with those that are bereaved. That's what we did. We sat. Occasionally, we cut a sandwich up to share. While we were there, we talked about Grandpa's life and all of our memories: profound, happy, difficult, funny. My mom and her sister's planned his funeral and wrote the obituary. We scoured through photo albums and laughed at old fashions or found images that sparked memories we had forgotten. Those few hours that I spent at my grandparent's house this week are moments that I will treasure the rest of my life.

While we were talking, my aunt explained how Ed would come over and explain the stage that my grandpa was currently in and then explain the signs for the next "phase." My aunt commented how death is sort of like a birth. There are distinct phases. We exist in one "phase" and wait for the next one. For some, it goes quickly; for others, it moves slowly. For some, there is not much pain involved; for others, the suffering is great and difficult. We talked about how death really is a second birth, and I think in the end, although we may have been a little sad for us that we have to live in a world without him, we were happy for him. His parents, his siblings, and his baby boy (along with countless family members and friends) were waiting for him. When we were little, my grandparents would take us to Escalante (their home town in Southern Utah). We are pretty much related to the entire town, so the whole vacation was like a giant family reunion. I will never forget the way both of my grandparents would light up around their family and as they took us to all their favorite childhood places. They were never happier then when they were home. Now that my grandpa truly is "home," I just picture him with his hand on everyone's shoulders, giving them the "side hug" and sloppy kiss and smiling so big that he kind of chuckles. I will miss him terribly, but I am happy for him. I am happy that it doesn't have to be so difficult anymore.

Several months ago, when the doctor's decided that there was nothing more that could be done for the cancer, and it became apparent that we would lose my grandpa soon, I realized how strange it will be to live in a world without him. I truly believe that grandparents are one of God's greatest gifts. I've definitely noticed this with my own children. My parents and Greg's parents are able to love my kids so completely and unconditionally. I felt that so strongly from my grandpa. I know my parents love me, but it's a more complicated type of love. I don't know that anybody loved me the way my grandpa did. I felt so adored by him. He was my biggest cheerleader, and when I faced challenges (of my own creation or just what life handed me), he didn't sugar coat it, but he made me feel like I could conquer it. He had so much confidence in me. He always saw the good-the potential. I know he'll keep loving me and helping me. Maybe one day I can actually be the person that he saw.

Some cute pictures of Grandpa in Escalante as a kid:

And I just love this picture. This is Grandpa with his daughter, my Aunt Jeri:

For some reason, I am having a difficult time finding a picture of us. Some of my favorite memories include:

Camping. I remember camping at Bear Lake and at the reservoir in Escalante. He used to take us fishing. I remember being so fascinated while he gutted and cleaned the fish. Then, we would pile around the picnic table and eat the fish, while being warned to look for bones. I remember climbing and hiking all over the hills around the campsite. Grandpa always told this story about me: He said that I was probably about 4 or 5 when I came tearing down the hill into the camp so excited. I told him that I saw a dinosaur! I said, "Well, it was either a dinosaur or a lizard." He laughed and laughed every time he told that story.

Singing. My grandpa always had is guitar out. I remember sitting in the condo in Bear Lake. It was before Gavin was born, so I was probably 5 or 6 years old. I remember him sitting in the chair teaching me the words to "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." When I got older, he would always strum the guitar and say, "How about a song or two." He would tap his foot, and the actual beat was not that important. He just loved it and felt it deep inside. I still sing all those songs to my kids. If you happen to hear my kids start singing "Into a Lake," a darling little song about skinny-dipping, you can know that it comes from Grandpa and we all love it! Whenever we sang in church, or recital, or competition, Grandma and Grandpa were always there-tape recorder in hand (even in Sacrament Meeting). After we would sing, Grandpa was always there to put his arm around our necks, give us a slobbery kiss, and offer some sort of a compliment such as: "Dammit, you sound good" or "My hell, you sure can sing."

Dinner. Growing up, we ate Sunday dinner together all the time! In the winter, we would pile around their table and Grandpa would wipe our hands and faces down before we were allowed to get down.He was truly passionate about clean hands and faces. All of my cousins laugh about how hard he would wipe. In the summer, we often set up the picnic table in the backyard. We played H.O.R.S.E. afterward or a little wiffleball. Sometimes, we would help harvest the peaches, raspberries, or cherries. We would all beg and plead with Grandpa to let us climb up the tall branches of the cherry tree, but he never let us. I can still picture him standing up there. Of course we would eat as we would go. I remember the year that we had all eaten buckets full before we realized they had worms. And we often had water fights. I remember one year, my grandpa was chasing me. Being the smartalec that I was, I ran in the house and shut the screen door behind me. He ran right through it. He wasn't even mad (although I'm pretty sure my parents were); I remember him sitting on the floor just laughing and laughing.

Boating. My grandpa had a boat. There were lots and lots and lots of safety rules, but we spent so many hours at Echo, Bear Lake, and Lake Powell. I remember when he tried to teach me to waterski for the first time. We were at Bear Lake (freezing). He gave me the instructions, and at the end he said, "Whatever you do, don't let go!" I yelled "Hit it" and the boat pulled me up and right over on my belly. But I didn't let go. I just held on for my life. It seems like forever, but for a few seconds at least, I let the boat drag me on the water on my stomach with water splashing all over my face because Grandpa said not to let go!!! Grandpa always slept in the boat, and being one of the oldest grandkids, sometimes I got to sleep with him. I remember Amy (my cousin) and I sleeping out with him. I bet we drove him crazy, but we felt so lucky to get to sleep on the boat!

Hard work and ice cream. My grandpa worked very hard his entire life. He often worked several jobs, and was always "fixing" something. He felt a great responsibility to pass that on to us. He would always say to us, "You aren't better than anybody else; but you're no worse either." He always told us that no matter what we were doing, it was important that we do our best. "If you do your best, then you never have to be ashamed." My cousin said that Grandpa once told her, "Whatever you do in life, do your best. The world needs good garbage men just as much as it needs good doctors." Grandpa also liked to play hard. At the end of every occasion, we had ice cream. Ice cream sundaes. Ice cream cones. Root beer floats. And we usually had several flavors to choose from.

Love you so much, Grandpa. Thank you for such beautiful memories. I will miss you.

Macy's Princess "Tea" Party

2011-03-19T14:06:00.004-06:00

I don't know how it is possible, but Macy has been with us for seven years already!!! Her birth was my first experience with being induced, and I was terrified. Little did I know that 2 and a half hours later, she would make her presence known in a drama-filled delivery (her flair for the dramatic hasn't ceased since). She was a darling, happy, content baby. I can honestly say that Macy has brought a smile to our faces every single day of her life (this girl is hilarious)!

For Macy's birthday, she wanted to have a Princess Tea Party (with hot chocolate). We invited a few friends and had a very girlie day. When the girls arrived, I had little bags and pink princess crowns for them to decorate. Austin wanted to get in on the action:

For "tea" we served peanut butter and jam sandwiches and turkey and cheese sandwiches cut into flowers and butterflies. We also had blueberries, strawberries, and carrots and dip. Our tea was actually *warm* chocolate with marshmallows.

After lunch, the girls made necklaces and hair bows.

When it came time for presents, Macy was spoiled!!! She loved all of her gifts, but the first thing she opened was a much desired Pillow Pet. (When Paige and Abby got Pillow Pets for Christmas, Macy was beside herself. I had to take her into the other room to calm her down and explain that she was being really ungrateful. Over the past three months, she has connived and manipulated Paige every which way to "borrow" her Pillow Pet. Honestly!) Thankfully, she received 2 Pillow Pet's for her birthday so the whining has officially stopped!

We enjoyed a crown cake and ice cream:

Then, the clean-up crew arrived:

Spencer and Kade just sat right up to the table and made themselves comfortable. They finished off Claire's ice cream and cookies and Paige's cake. They were in heaven!!!

Macy is ALL GIRL! She likes everything to do with sparkles and glitter and shimmer. She says the funniest things (even her teacher and school principal comment on how hilarious she is). She also dishes out endless compliments ("Oh Mom, I really like your dress today."). She has a gift, a natural ability, for getting out of work that she doesn't want to do (which is pretty much anything that requires effort of any kind). She can get Austin and Paige to do just about anything she wants, and she has a way of getting them to believe that it was their idea and they do it happily. Amazing! This child has no fear! She likes anything thrill seeking. She is Greg's best companion when it comes to indoor skydiving or rides at Lagoon. This girl is full of SPICE, and our lives are definitely richer because she's alive. I love her!

Happy Leprechaun's Day

2011-03-17T19:08:00.002-06:00

That's what Macy calls it anyway. She brought this note home today. I love it so much. I figure that Greg and I are either Leperkon's (Macy's spelling) or Amish. Either way, this picture is awesome!

Paige Turns 4

2011-03-11T14:19:00.005-07:00

My sweet little Paigie-Pipes turned 4 this week.

This little girl spends most of her day wishing that she could be as big as her older brother and sister, so being a number higher made her so excited! She's been practicing holding up 4 fingers instead of 3 for a couple of weeks. We decided to go with a Yo Gabba Gabba theme this year. She is crazy for Yo Gabba and will frequently break out in song (I occasionally find myself singing "Party in My Tummy" or "I'm So Sorry" in my dreams). This was her invite: Muno. On the back, it read: "My name is Paige, and I like to bounce." We invited a few friends and a cousin or two and took them all to the Bounce-N-Jump in the middle of a March snowstorm. They had a blast! Paige especially loved going down the steep slide. She would literally fly through the air and crash into the pads at the bottom. She could hardly open her eyes, she was going so fast, but she had a HUGE smile on her face the entire time!

When we got home, I made a scrumptious dinner (fit for any 4-year-old) of chicken nuggets, grapes, and cottage cheese. Afterward, we opened gifts and had our Yo Gabba Gabba cupcakes.

Why yes, that is Macy's blurry head as she encroached on her sister's big moment of blowing out the candles. Poor girl really struggled with allowing her little sister to have all of the attention for an entire day. Good thing Paige is such a good sport.

The guests:

Max had a great time (this is about 3 feet into the entry way of the house):

Presents included: Coloring books, princess barbie dolls and dresses, Leapster, clay, Strawberry Shortcake dolls, paint book, bubble gun, zhuzhu pet, Pinkalicious coloring set. When we saw the volume of the loot, Greg and I decided to save the baby doll that we got her for Christmas. I think all that stuff was plenty for a 4-year-old.

Classy:

For all of you aspiring photographers out there, I thought I would share some of my wisdom with you. I find that the best time to take a picture of all of your children together is 10 minutes after bedtime. For maximum results, make sure you load them up with cupcakes (include tons of frosting and additional candy as decorations) and ice cream right before (not to mention hours of chaos, extra people, and presents). Finally, ensure that they wear really annoying hats with tight elastic bands around their chin and hope that they won't notice how uncomfortable they are. Make sure that you put them close together and force them to touch each other, because I have found that siblings love to be in close proximity with one another, especially when they are tired. Put 12 people behind the camera in an attempt to get them to smile. Oh, and don't forget to dress them in completely different colors and make sure everybody has a different, but equally busy pattern to their clothing. Just look at some of the beauties this process produced:

My sweet Paige has a passion for coloring. She always has. Our kitchen table has officially turned into an art studio, thanks to Grandma and Nana and Lisa. She has had a blast with her creative outlet the past few days and enjoyed all of her birthday gifts!

Paige has such an enormous personality that sometimes it seems impossible that she's only been with us for 4 years! This child redefines with word "determined." If there is a will, there's a way, and this child has the biggest "will" of anyone I've ever met. She definitely lives by my creed: "It is better to ask forgiveness than permission." If she wants something, she will simply figure out a way to get it. It's a trait that will serve her beautifully in 20 years; and it's a trait that forces me to keep a constant eye on her and produces a lot of funny situations and independent conversations. Her favorite phrase is still "I can do it."

Paige is the tallest child that I've had. She is long and lean, and at any given moment you can catch just the slightest crack of her cute little bum peeking out of her pants or skirt. She has cut her hair twice, and her favorite color is purple. She speaks with a Queens/Brooklyn accent (with a hint of Jersey in there). She thinks it is hilarious to "fluff."

Paige has the most adorable smile. When she does smile, it radiates from her gorgeous brown eyes and it makes all of your troubles melt away. She isn't gentle or cuddly (no time for such nonsense), but she will tell you she loves you often and she will talk your ear off for hours. She likes to be included and doesn't like to go to bed. She loves to watch "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat," take bubble baths, play with "Polly's," and try to tell jokes and rhyme.

I adore her.

Courage

2011-03-06T14:36:00.005-07:00

We have had some sick kids the past week or so. Not terribly sick, just nasty coughs, runny noses, and Austin has "lost his lunch" a few times. As we discussed what to do about church today, we decided that none of the other parents want our boys in class with their kids just to pass on the ickiness. We decided that we would all go to Sacrament Meeting, and afterward I would bring the sickies home while the rest of the bunch stays at church. Our church starts at 1 o'clock. Normally, I put the twins down for a nap in the morning because otherwise they don't get one and they are definitely not old enough to not "get one" yet. But because I was going to bring them home after the first hour, I just kept them up throughout the morning.

As I was getting the twins into their church clothes and we were piling into the car with everyone, I wondered what I was doing. Why was I torturing these boys by taking them out of their comfy pajamas and into button-up shirts? Why was I purposely taking them to a place that requires reverence at the exact hour that they are normally just falling asleep? Why was I ushering our crew out the door only to return in an hour? My answer: To take the Sacrament. I was fasting (for a very good cause), and I felt I really needed to take the Sacrament today and renew my covenants with the Lord. So, with a smile on my face, we packed up the minivan and attended church together...as a family...so I could be obedient. (When church ran over by 15 minutes, and I had beyond-ornery babies all over me, each whine just begging, "For the love! Put me to bed!" I admit that I had a brief lapse of faith.)

When we sang the Sacrament hymn, I was very touched by the last verse:

As now we praise thy name with song,

The blessings of this day

Will linger in our thankful hearts,

And silently we pray

For courage to accept thy will,

To listen and obey.

We love thee, Lord; our hearts are full.

We'll walk they chosen way.

When we talk about trials and the "will of the Lord," so often we discuss the faith we need and the trust in "The Plan." While faith and trust are so important, even essential, I think sometimes we forget about the courage that it takes to truly accept the Lord's will and even more important when it comes to living it. So often, this life doesn't make sense and life definitely isn't always "fair." We live in a world where good things happen to bad people and bad things happen to good people. We want answers; we want explanations; we want reasons. Sometimes, we get them. More often than not, we don't.

Regardless, I believe that the Lord has a plan for all of us, and I believe that if we seek that path (or the "will" of the Divine), we will always find great love and peace. Once we discover that path, I think that is where the courage kicks in. Just believing is not enough. We have to find the strength and the courage to get up every morning and live the best life that we can. That is easier said than done. Some days, I give up before I even roll out of bed (and I have the blessing of having a strong, healthy body and mind). I think I will start praying for that courage. Courage to completely accept the Lord's will. Courage to do it with a grateful heart and a smile on my face.

The Thursday Curse

2011-02-24T19:22:00.008-07:00

Date: Thursday, February 17
Absent: Dad out of town
Crime Scene: Mom and Dad's Bathroom

Description:

Culprit 1 uses toilet (number 1 and number 2). Culprit 1 does not flush. Culprit 1 leaves toilet seat up. Culprit 1 leaves light on. Culprit 1 leaves door wide open. Culprit 1 disappears.

Doorbell rings. Mom answers door. Culprits 2 & 3 (joined by a third accomplice, who shall remain nameless) arrive on scene.

Mom walks in to discover three small suspects surrounding the toilet, washing each other's hair with the water. Culprit 3 held a toothbrush in his hand. Culprit 3 was caught dipping toothbrush in water and then "brushing" his teeth. (Said toothbrush not shown in pictures.)

Possibly the most disgusting scene ever witnessed by Mom.

Date: Thursday, February 24

Absent: Dad at work

Crime Scene: Mom and Dad's Bathroom

Description:

Culprit 1 uses toilet (number 1 ONLY this time). Culprit 1 does not flush. Culprit 1 leaves toilet seat up. Culprit 1 leaves light on. Culprit 1 leaves door wide open. Culprit 1 disappears.

Phone rings. Mom answers. Culprits 2 & 3 arrive on scene.

Mom walks in to discover suspects surrounding toilet (for the second week in a row). Mom screams ("Ahhhhhhhh"). Dad walks in the door from a long day at work. Culprits are dripping with toilet water (off the nose dripping). Toilet paper covers surrounding floor. Walls are dripping of toilet water and wadded up toilet paper.

As all three culprits bathe, Mom plunges toilet and discovers a toy train.

They tell me that I'll miss this.

I have my doubts.

Look Not Behind Thee

2011-01-28T13:45:00.000-07:00

*WARNING: To those of you who feel that this blog already has too many words, I'm just warning you that this one is going to be a doozy. My brain is full and I just need a good, old-fashioned brain dump.

So, I've been searching for New Years Resolutions for a couple of weeks. I really believe in New Years Resolutions, and I really want to evaluate my life and look for areas of improvement. Here are a few that I came up with:

Read all four standard works this year.
Get my house on a "cleaning schedule" (Monday: Laundry, Tuesday: Bathrooms, Wednesday: Floors & Windows, etc.)
Cut out dessert.
Stop swearing or yelling. Period.
Get up at 6 every morning to exercise and read my scriptures before my kids get up.
Have the house picked up and dinner on the table when my husband gets home from work.

I could call these "New Years Resolutions," or I could call them "101 Ways to Fail by February." Are these all things that I should do? Yes. Would they make me a better person? Yes. Have I already tried them (and failed)? Yes. They just weren't sitting right with me. Then, I saw this video. I knew that this was what I was looking for.

The story of Lot and his wife comes from Genesis. This was the time when the people of two cities (Sodom and Gomorrah) became so wicked that the Lord decided to destroy the cities. He warned Lot and his family. “Escape for thy life,” the Lord said. "Look not behind thee...; escape to the mountain, lest thou be consumed.” They did not leave right away, but did eventually leave the city. The Lord did indeed destroy the cities, but Lot's wife could not resist the temptation and did "look back." She was turned into a pillar of salt. Or, in other words, was also destroyed.

Elder Holland offers an explanation as to the nature of the sin of Lot's wife: "Just what did Lot’s wife do that was so wrong? As a student of history, I have thought about that and offer a partial answer. Apparently, what was wrong with Lot’s wife was that she wasn’t just looking back; in her heart she wanted to go back. It would appear that even before she was past the city limits, she was already missing what Sodom and Gomorrah had offered her...It is possible that Lot’s wife looked back with resentment toward the Lord for what He was asking her to leave behind. So it isn’t just that she looked back; she looked back longingly. In short, her attachment to the past outweighed her confidence in the future. That, apparently, was at least part of her sin."

Like Lot's wife, I tend to look to the past and long for it. Sometimes I long for it because I remember it to be easier; sometimes I long for it because I want to change my behavior; sometimes I long for it because I just can't deal with "today." Unlike Lot's wife, I don't long for the "offerings" of Sodom or Gomorroah. I think that Elder Holland's words express how I feel: "As a new year begins and we try to benefit from a proper view of what has gone before, I plead with you not to dwell on days now gone nor to yearn vainly for yesterdays, however good those yesterdays may have been. The past is to be learned from but not lived in. We look back to claim the embers from glowing experiences but not the ashes. And when we have learned what we need to learn and have brought with us the best that we have experienced, then we look ahead and remember that faith is always pointed toward the future. Faith always has to do with blessings and truths and events that will yet be efficacious in our lives."

These are a few things that I need to let go of and "look not behind":

Guilt of Parenting
Childbearing
Forgiveness of Family Members
Marriage

This is the key to my success (more words from Elder Holland):

"So a more theological way to talk about Lot’s wife is to say that she did not have faith. She doubted the Lord’s ability to give her something better than she already had. Apparently, she thought that nothing that lay ahead could possibly be as good as what she was leaving behind.

To yearn to go back to a world that cannot be lived in now, to be perennially dissatisfied with present circumstances and have only dismal views of the future, and to miss the here and now and tomorrow because we are so trapped in the there and then and yesterday are some of the sins of Lot’s wife.

“Remember Lot’s wife.” Faith is for the future. Faith builds on the past but never longs to stay there. Faith trusts that God has great things in store for each of us and that Christ truly is the “high priest of good things to come” (Hebrews 9:11)."

Throughout the year, I am going to try to remember this phrase: Look Not Behind Thee. I am going to try to work through a lot of my guilt and longing for the past. I am going to be better at living in the moment and having faith in the future.

R20M

2011-01-13T19:12:00.008-07:00

My children each receive a daily planner the first day of school. They are supposed to write down their homework assignments daily and any notes from the teacher or correspondence comes home through these planners.

This is a copy of a page from Macy's planner from the 2nd week of school. Every word is carefully written out and spelled correctly (with the exception of a few backward letters). Notice her precise, cautious handwriting on Wednesday:

This is a copy of a page from Macy's planner from last week. She didn't even get the zero in on Tuesday:

I'm telling you...that girl has a talent, a true natural ability for getting out of work. She's very gifted, really. She definitely works harder at getting out of work than actually doing the work.

R20M has become our family code-word for taking the easy way out. Don't get me wrong, I believe that some things deserve a little R20M. Like my make-up for instance. If make-up takes me longer than 3 minutes, it's just not worth it. Or my car. I wish I cared about my car the way my dad does, but it is just so far down on the list. I can't keep it washed and vacuumed out, so I just R20M-it.

But, I'm afraid that I have taken the R20M approach to motherhood lately. I found a talk by Dieter F. Uchtdorf about work. He says: "When our wagon gets stuck in the mud, God is much more likely to assist the man who gets out to push than the man who merely raises his voice in prayer-no matter how eloquent the oration. President Thomas S. Monson put it this way: 'It is not enough to want to make the effort and to say we'll make the effort...It is in the doing, not just the thinking, that we accomplish our goals. If we constantly put our goals off, we will never see them fulfilled'."

Every night when my kids are asleep, I decide that it's time to step it up and put forth the effort into being more patient, more loving, more encouraging, and actually teaching them pro-actively rather than reacting to every situation. Then, the morning comes, and the kids can't seem to get out the door to school without my nagging and criticizing and yelling. I use the excuse that the twins are still so little and I'm just so exhausted, or that it's winter and being indoors all day is making us all so grouchy, or that they are just too young for certain lessons and I'll step it up when they are older, .

But the truth is that I am taking the R20M route instead of slowing down, taking the time, being cautious and careful, and doing the best I can. In the same talk, Elder Uchdorf also said: "The Lord doesn't expect us to work harder than we are able. He doesn't (nor should we) compare our efforts to those of others. Our Heavenly Father asks only that we do the best we can-that we work according to our full capacity, however great or small that may be." The problem is that sometimes I hide behind the excuse of "I'm doing the best I can" when that isn't really true at all. My best is not lingering in bed rather than getting up early enough to ensure that we aren't rushed in the morning. My best is not going straight to threats and anger instead of getting creative and exercising patience with my kids. My best is not throwing them in bed as fast as I can so I can plop down in front of the TV to watch my shows. Quite frankly, my "best" needs a swift kick in the behind.

Elder Uchtdorf makes a promise for hard work of any kind: "Work is an antidote for anxiety, and ointment for sorrow, and a doorway to possibility." I get so frustrated with my parenting and my kids and I do feel a huge amount of anxiety because of the choices that they make. But this promise gives me hope. It tells me that if I work harder, and sincerely put forth my "best effort," then some of that anxiety goes away.

Instead of R20M, I am committing to "Read 20 minutes" in my best handwriting. Starting today.

33 (for 2 more days)

2011-01-12T20:38:00.002-07:00

I'm not one for birthdays-at least mine. Generally, I get very crabby and impatient (well, more than usual) around my birthday. Yesterday, I thought that I was actually doing pretty well with it this year. Tonight, I think that I am actually not handling it all that great.

It isn't the whole aging thing. Besides the fact that gravity seems to be winning the battle already, I actually don't mind getting older. In a lot of ways, I am starting to really figure out who I am and feeling pretty comfortable in my own skin. It also helps that I am married to someone 6 years older than myself. By the time I finally reach a number, he is over and done with it and I can see that he survived.

I think it might be the attention. I don't know. I think I would just die of embarrassment if Greg ever threw me a party. I just don't like all the attention on myself. A little strange coming from a person who writes a blog all about herself, right?!? I guess I feel like I can hide behind my words on this blog. There is just something about being the center of attention that makes me uncomfortable. And, whenever I'm uncomfortable (or frustrated or tired or embarrassed), my go-to reaction is anger. I really can't stand that about myself.

So, for my birthday, I think I would like to dig a big hole and climb inside for the day. Except for the fact that we can't find the ground in order to dig, and I am not about to stand inside a giant snow-globe for the entire day. I guess I'll just grin and bear it and pray that my family will forgive me for my orneriness.

I guess that will pretty much make it the same as any other day. :-)

Come on, does anyone out there feel this way about their birthday???

January Jumble

2011-01-11T21:21:00.003-07:00

Greg to Paige: "You better watch it." Paige to Greg: "What are you going to do...blind me with pepper spray?"

Who can name the movie???

* * *

I was substituting in Primary last Sunday, and we were discussing how Satan tries to convince us that making bad choices isn't really that bad. There was a story about a prince who gets captured. His captors try to get him to do bad things like lie, steal, say bad words, be unkind to others, etc. When I got to the "say bad words" one, Gracie piped up and said, "Like b-u-t-t and h-e-double l?" When I mentioned eating and drinking food that will harm his body, one child yelled out, "Like beer," while another child added, "or Pepsi?"

You know, you really have it all figured out when you're 6. It must be wonderful to live in a world where the worst thing to put into your body is beer (or Pepsi), and the most offensive thing to come out of your mouth is "h-e-double hockey sticks." I sort of envy 6.

* * *

The highlight of Spencer and Kade's week is helping with the laundry. When they hear the laundry doors open, they come running-like-the-wind. They love to get the dirty laundry and throw it in the washer while I lift them up, and they love getting the wet clothes and putting them in the dryer. Their favorite part is slamming the dryer door shut.

* * *

My kids school has this amazing program called "Discovery" (run by my equally amazing sister). Throughout the school year, they have different areas of development (physical, service, performing arts, etc.) and they several different classes under the topic. They have people from the community come in and teach the classes (their ballroom dance teacher used to work for "Dancing With the Stars"). They have the kids for an entire afternoon once a week while the teachers use that for prep-time. I'm not doing it justice in my description; just know that it is awesome and the kids love it.

This session, Macy signed up for "Boys World" because she "really likes boys."

* * *

Greg went in for laser eye surgery on Monday. They did the surgery behind a glass wall so I could watch. While he was getting ready to operate, the doctor looked at me and asked if I always smiled like that. Greg's response: "Only when I'm in the room." The doctor thought he was pretty funny. (Don't tell him, but I do too.)

* * *

This is how Austin looked when he came up to say goodnight (why yes, he is wearing two pair of glasses - one for seeing and one for all of the dart gun wars you have while sleeping):

The kid cracks me up.

Private

2010-12-29T12:40:00.003-07:00

Time to go private again. I'm happy to send anyone an invite, just let me know. Send an email to gremily2@aol.com or leave a comment.

The Parable of the Bagel

2010-12-21T23:08:00.008-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a man and a woman who loved each other, at least they thought they loved each other. 12 years ago, they spent their days flirting, staring into each other's eyes, staying up half the night talking about everything under the sun, and prancing around town completely oblivious that there were other people living in the world. Their days were magical, enchanting, and they were blissfully ignorant in their little bubble.

Somehow, over the course of eight years, five children came into their home. The old enchantment was replaced with a new enchantment. The enchantment of giggles, slobbery kisses, and babies napping on their chests. Along with the enchantment came chaos. The chaos of tantrums, the onslaught of dirty diapers, and the never-ending colossal messes. The nights were still sleepless, but the dynamic conversations were replaced with feedings, combating nightmares, and cleaning up 3 a.m. sickness. Evenings of adoring couch snuggling were replaced with homework, baths, and hours of managing the debris.

Love endured; exhaustion ensued.

Then, one chilly December day, amid the background of family tragedy, this man and this woman spent the entire day apart, each frantically doing their part to ease the burden of another and keep their little family safe. It had been several days of tackling a crisis the size of which either had ever seen, each day bringing stressful, unforeseen developments. Exhaustion was replaced with endless worry, debilitating fear, and straight-up fatigue.

It was a Tuesday. Throughout their travels that bizarre, surreal, winter day, the man and the woman had each stopped to get the other a gift, a trifle really, just to say that they were thinking of the other person and thanking them for their selfless and endless contribution the last few weeks. Well after sunset, into the very late evening after all the children had been put to bed, this man and this woman were reunited. They both pulled out a large, square Einstein Bros. box filled with a baker's dozen of fresh bagels.

26 bagels in total.

Plus 4 tubs of flavored cream cheese.

The irony alone was tender and sweet and was met with a hug, an adoring smile, and a peck on the lips. Then, the tired couple opened the boxes to reveal the components. The man's box was full of Asiago cheese, toasted onion, and garden veggie spread. The smell of asiago makes the man vomit slightly, he detests straight-up onion, and vegetables mixed with cream cheese is possibly the most revolting flavor available offered by the famous brothers. The woman then opened her box. It was full of blueberry madness, cinnamon raisin goodness, and bright pink strawberry spread.

The man giggled as he grabbed his favorite fresh blueberry bagel, ripped it apart, and tossed a bite in his mouth. Then he reached out, pulled the likewise giggling woman into him, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. The woman rested her weary forehead on the man's chest and melted into his arms. She lacked the energy to even put her arms around his body. But, as had become the norm over the past decade (plus), his arms gave her strength, his love gave her hope, and his ironic, caring gesture made her pity that girl 12 years ago.

To think that young, 22-year-old girl thought she knew what love was...

Spiritual Lego

2010-12-15T15:17:00.002-07:00

Sunday afternoons at our house are a "throw-the-rules-out-the-window-fend-for-yourself" type of lifestyle. I may be reading the scriptures about "keeping the Sabbath Day" loosely, but it works for our family in our stage of life right now. After we eat (which is more like foraging), people kind of do their own thing. Since we don't have the TV on, the kids are actually forced into enjoying each other's company (usually) while babies nap, Daddy's nap (well, there's really only one Daddy, and he is usually going to meetings or out on visits, but napping would be his choice if he were given one), and I read or pick up the kitchen (which is generally the result of foraging) or talk to my sisters on the phone.

Last Sunday, Austin disappeared to his room. A little while later, I walked in to find these (and he took the pictures by himself - he was so proud):

King Benjamin in his tower:

The stand that King Benjamin is on swivels so he can talk to all of his kingdom. Don't you just love the people that are listening. I'm pretty sure that is Darth Vader in the front/left (which is good because if anyone needs King Benjamin's message, it is probably Darth Vader).

Samuel the Lamanite:

Samuel is holding a book to try to preach the gospel to those disbelieving, helmet-wearing, unrighteous Nephites.

What do you think, could we market it to Deseret Book???

To read about King Benjamin, go here.

To read about Samuel the Lamanite, go here.

Reason To Get An Insurance Policy #267: The Child with No Fear

2010-11-19T16:13:00.005-07:00

Come next Monday, we officially are without health insurance. The following pictures illustrate just one of the five main reasons why I am spending every spare moment researching, comparing, and applying to various insurance companies.

Would it really have been too much to ask to put just a drop of fear into that adorable little body???

Right of Passage: A Christmas Story

2010-11-16T21:38:00.006-07:00

*Photos from a recent photoshoot by Fauset Photography

Last night, I took Austin to the store to make a Christmas list. It was so nice for us to spend an hour or so together. Sometimes I forget that this boy was my entire life for so many years. He is the only child that I had completely to myself for three years. Those three years are some of the happiest of my life. Even though Austin was my fussiest baby, I didn’t know it. I was young and naive and inexperienced. Ignorance really is bliss. I just pushed through those first few colicky months. Then, at five months, Austin learned to sit up and his world changed. He became this happy, creative, curious ball of darling energy. He was my little buddy. We did everything together and I truly loved feeding his endless curiosity.

Life got incredibly busy, and babies kept being born, and we started having struggles with Austin’s behavior, and I felt like a constant failure, and Austin changed from toddler to preschooler to little kid to big kid. We desperately needed some time together just to have some fun. I felt complete having my Little Buddy back for a few minutes.

On the way to the store, Austin explained to me (in depth) the ins and outs of Four Square. He is passionate about this game and plays “every recess.” I listened intently and didn’t have the heart to tell him that I easily remember 4^th Grade and Four Square.It was fascinating to listen to him explain the game and his strategy.

I was pleasantly surprised to see how picky he was when it came to his Christmas List.I thought that he would just write everything down that he found, but he didn’t. He was very selective. Even when he found something that he liked, he read the box and really took the time to decide if it was “List Worthy.” When we were walking out of the store, I explained to him that he doesn’t get everything on his list, just a few. He made the point that there weren’t very many items, but I pointed out that some of them are quite expensive (Harry Potter Lego sets come with a pretty hefty price tag). He said, “Yeah, but he doesn’t pay for them?” I said, “He?” Austin responded by saying, “Well…whoever gets the toys.” I asked him who he thought that was, and he hesitatingly said, “You?” (He even looked out the window instead of looking at me when he said it, as if he was guilty or something.) So, I smiled and shook my head.

He was pretty surprised as we talked about how Dad and I are really “Santa.” When one idea would sink in, he would ask more questions. “You are the one who wraps all the presents?” “You are the one who writes the notes?” “You eat the cookies, too? Or do you just break them up?” “How do you disguise your handwriting?” Then, he told me “I guess it is pretty impossible for one person to visit every house in one night.”

I sat there and got a little choked up thinking of all the Christmases that we have spent together. Austin is an absolute joy to buy for. He always gets so excited about his presents and everybody elses. And he has never been shy with his excitement. Every Christmas Eve I find it difficult to sleep because I can’t wait to see the surprise and exhilliration on his face. If I could bottle up Christmas morning, I could market a new antidepressant. It was so sad to see my little boy growing up and losing that part of his childhood.

Then, I started explaining that now that he’s in on this secret, he gets to play Santa with us. I told him how, on Christmas Eve, we’ll put everyone to bed. Then, when the girls are asleep, we’ll get him up and he can help us stuff their stockings. Right away, he started planning how he can find out about Macy’s favorite treats and how she’ll never suspect because she still believes in Santa. Then, he can tell us so we can get her exactly what she loves. The wheels in his brain kept turning and had all these plans for his sisters.

I started getting choked up again, and I told him how much I love being Santa and believing in Santa. I told him the legend of the real Saint Nicholas and how the legend began. I said, “Think about how much you enjoy getting presents on Christmas. Giving them is about a thousand times better.” I told himhow I think the world is a better place by having the “idea” of a Santa Claus. How amazing to have a person whose entire purpose is to give all the children in the entire world gifts. It’s just a happy thought.

Every year I struggle with the commercialism of Christmas. I want my kids to experience the magic of Christmas, and yet have the birth of the Savior and the “reason for the season” be at the forefront of the Christmas season. Over the years, Greg and I have tried several different tactics to help our kids feel the real meaning of Christmas and try to help them find the joy in giving. In that car, I realized that this is the first year that Austin will really “get” it, and I was full of gratitude. He’s not my little boy anymore, but at moments like this, I realize what a strong, giving, loving, and adoring spirit I have in my midst. And I am excited to show him, firsthand this year, how giving can truly be better than receiving.

Let the real magic begin.

The Season of Giving

2010-11-06T14:22:00.006-06:00

"Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love!" - Hamilton Wright Mabie

I know that we just had Halloween and even though the Christmas music has started, most of us probably aren't ready to start our celebrations. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE Christmas. But, I do like to enjoy my holidays one at a time. I am very much looking forward to Thanksgiving and then enjoying the holiday season (which I define as the month of December).

So, you are probably wondering why (if I feel this way) I am posting about Christmas. Well, in light of my last post, I just wanted to tell people of an opportunity to give this holiday season. As awkward as it is for my family and I to ask for help, the reality is that since Curtis's accident, he has not been able to work. Therefore, in addition to all of the medical bills, there has not been any income for over three months. At this point, Alexie is the main caregiver (trust me, it is an around-the-clock job), and is unable to go out and get a job to support their family.

In an effort to help, a donation account has been set up. I know that a lot of you look for opportunities to help during the holiday season, whether it be in the form of Sub-for-Santa or monetary donations as the year comes to an end for the purpose of tax advantages. I also know that there are so many amazing causes out there to support. I wanted to get the word out that this is just another opportunity to help a family that has suffered from an accident that was not their fault but is left with the repercussions.

Thank you to all of you who are so concerned with our family. We are so grateful for your love, support, and prayers. I feel so blessed to be surrounded by so many good, GOOD people.

Donation Account: #569353865 at Zion's Bank in Curtis's name.

Since every post deserves an image, here are some pictures of my sister's family from last Christmas:

"The best of all gifts around any Christmas tree: the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in each other." - Burton Hillis

The Parable of the Curve Ball

2010-11-06T14:09:00.000-06:00

*adapted from my dad's testimony last month.

When a batter steps up to the plate, he/she never knows what type of pitch is coming. One of the most difficult pitches to hit is the curve ball. The curve ball is thrown with spin so that its path curves as it approaches the batter. Hence, a pitch may look like it is headed in one direction and unexpectedly change paths. A good hitter can judge the curve ball by following the spin as it leaves the pitcher's hand. By following the threads of the baseball, the batter can anticipate the break and make adjustments before the curve occurs. However, sometimes God can throw a pitch with a baseball that doesn't have any threads, making it impossible to judge directionality.

On August 1st, this is exactly what happened to my sister and her family. It started out as a typical Sunday, except Alexie (my sister) was just recovering from a stomach bug that had been floating around the family for several weeks. She stayed home while her husband, Curtis, took their two children to his parent's house for dinner. After dinner, they started a movie so it was quite late by the time he left for home. With Abby (4) and Max (2) safely fastened in their car seats, Curtis headed for home. The kids were both asleep within minutes of leaving.

About five minutes from home, Curtis approached an intersection. He slowed due to the red light, but when the light changed to green, he stepped on the gas. In the middle of an intersection, a young girl, talking on her cell phone, ran the red light and smashed directly into Curtis going 40-45 mph. She was not paying attention and did not break. The children were rushed to the hospital, but released the next day with aches and pains and Abby had a broken arm, but otherwise just fine. Curtis, on the other hand, was life-flighted to the hospital and spent the next month in the SICU (Surgical Intensive Care Unit).

I believe that the original accident report actually recorded it as a fatal car accident. He was in extremely critical condition. He spent the next couple of weeks unresponsive while undergoing several surgeries. There was extensive damage to the abdomen, but the brunt of the injuries resulted as a brain hemorrhage. The bleeding and swelling of the brain became the main focus of everyone involved for the rest of the month. At one point, my sister counted 17 tubes going in and coming out of her husband to keep him alive.

When it became apparent that Curtis was going to survive, he was given a permanent shunt and became a Brain Injury Patient. Then, the rehab began. He spent the next six weeks in Inpatient Rehab. The best was to describe his injuries is to compare it to that of a stroke victim. His spine and spinal cord are intact, but because of the damage done to the brain, he is having difficulty "recognizing" the left side of his body. (He calls his left arm "George". It's good to see he has a sense of humor about it all.)

The miracle is that Curtis was able to come home a few weeks ago. The improvement he made during inpatient rehab was remarkable and truly astonishing. However, the journey is far from over. He is wheelchair bound (for now - we hope and pray). He is still unable to move without assistance. He is working on learning how to speak again, and eat again, and move again. He is on a restricted diet, but desperately needs to gain weight (he is 6'4" and weighs less than me).

Just in case Alexie wasn't positive that she knew the real meaning of "Trials," Max broke his leg the day that Curtis came home from the hospital. This was on my watch, and I could not feel more terrible. So, she brought her husband home for the first time in 2 1/2 months only to turn around, drive back to Primary's and spend the night with Max. The break was high up on his femur, so both of his legs are in a cast just to make sure that it is completely immobilized. Here is my sweet, strong, beautiful sister (six months pregnant) with two people who are unable to move without her help.

We never know how high we are

Till we are called to rise;

And then, if we are true to plan,

Our statures touch the skies-

- Emily Dickinson

I just want to say what a truly sweet experience this has been. I think that one of the reasons people stand up in Sacrament Meeting and express gratitude for their trials is because when you are in the depths, the Lord opens his heart even more and pours out miracles. You have to look for these miracles because sometimes they can be difficult to see through the surgeries, beeping life-support machines, insurance claims, utility bills, injuries, tears, sleepless nights, pain, and frustration. But I have watched as my sister and her family has been blessed by so much love and generosity. I have watched Curtis and Alexie dig really deep when they were sure that the "well was empty" to find strength and courage and perseverance that they didn't know existed. I have experienced quiet, personal moments with Curtis and Alexie and have felt the love of our Savior so deeply. I have felt that Alexie and I (and all my siblings) were sent to our amazing parents and to each other for very specific purposes. Old wounds have been healed as we have recommitted ourselves to seeing the best in each other and being so full of gratitude to have each other. I have watched as hundreds of people have come out of the woodwork to do their part to ease the burden. It has been nothing short of incredible and our family has been blessed by an outpouring of unconditional love.

Some days, we all find the wisdom, courage, and strength to actually hit that curve ball. A lot of days, we miss it and have to get back in that batters box to wait for the next pitch. Most of the time, we are just trying to put a smile on our face and be grateful that we get to play the game.

"Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he's been robbed. The fact is that most putts don't drop, most beef is tough, most children grow up to be just people, most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration, most jobs are more often dull than otherwise. Life is like an old time rail journey...delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders, and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas, and trilling burst of speed. The trick is the thank the Lord for letting you have the ride."

- Gordon B. Hinckley

Alexie has written about the accident in great detail on her private blog. She has written almost daily if you want to read about the last three months in greater depth. If you are interested, please email me and I will get you an invite.

My Career in the Circus

2010-10-11T20:37:00.002-06:00

Do you ever get the feeling that you may have missed your calling in life? I'm sure most people think about things like medical school, acting, or some sort of career in politics. Me? I think I should have been a circus performer. Plate spinning to be specific. Or maybe just perfect the craft so I could be a guest on Letterman or Leno.

I feel like I've got all of these plates going. Somehow, one by one, I've committed to all sorts of different things. When I say "yes," up goes another plate. At this point, I really feel like I've reached my max. Right now, I've got all these plates spinning and I spend my days running back and forth just trying to keep them all going. As I'm spinning one, I start to notice another one that starts to teeter. Very quickly, I notice that the teetering moves to wobbling which moves to dangerously close to stopping. But, in the nick of time, I am able to sprint over and get it spinning again. I am trying my best to do it with a smile on my face (rarely am I wearing an evening gown though), and although I go to bed exhausted every night, it is a good exhaustion. I'm managing. I'm thriving. I'm learning. I'm growing. I'm loving. I'm feeling loved.

But I'm telling you all right now: If I am handed another plate, it is all going to come crashing down.

(And you know what? If you look closely, you'll notice that the plates really aren't all that clean.)

The Gospel According to Macy

2010-10-08T21:56:00.004-06:00

Macy was assigned to give a talk in Primary on Sunday. So, we talked about how she can quote a scripture on following the prophet and then state that she heard President Monson speak last Sunday. He spoke on gratitude, and she can follow the prophet by being grateful. To prepare for this, we made a list of things that she is grateful for and she is going to draw some pictures. She started with this picture of her holding hands with Heavenly Father and Jesus.

The first draft of the picture just had a few stick figures and it was kind of sloppy. So we talked about what her teachers at school teach her about what makes a good picture: details. So, she started over with the goal to put in some details. As she was drawing, and I was wiping down the counters, I glanced over and complimented her on her details - including the fact that she even colored in the background. That's when she pointed to the blue rectangle and said, "Yeah, and that's a Rock Wall."

Greg observed that "of course there are Rock Walls in Heaven, and you probably don't even have to use the harness."

* * *

There have been a lot of questions around our house about injury, healing, and death. For the first few weeks after the accident, we really didn't know if my brother-in-law was going to live. We prayed for him, and my kids asked some questions. One day, Macy asked if Curtis was going to die. I told her that it looked like he was going to live, but we really weren't sure about the extent of his injuries (this was probably about a month afterward). At the end of our conversation about living and dying and timing, she threw her arms up in the air and said, "Well...It's up to Jesus...He's the one who gets to decide...No one else can decide."

Sometimes I wonder if we are raising a Southern Baptist, but in the end, I guess she is right - It is up to Jesus. Now, if it were that easy to accept it. I'll have to chat with my daughter. Maybe she has some pointers. Never underestimate the wisdom of a 6-year-old!

The Crisis That Macy Built

2010-09-16T12:49:00.010-06:00

This is my daughter.

This is my daughter who turned six on her last birthday.

This is the quarter that was swallowed by my daughter who turned six on her last birthday.

This is the x-ray that shows the quarter that was swallowed by my daughter who turned six on her last birthday.

This is the ambulance that was ridden by the dad, the x-ray, the quarter, and my daughter who turned six on her last birthday.

This is the hospital where the ambulance stopped that was ridden by the dad, the x-ray, the quarter, and my daughter who turned six on her last birthday.

This is the house that will need to be mortgaged to pay for the eight-hour stay at the hospital where the ambulance stopped that was ridden by the dad, the x-ray, the quarter, and my daughter who turned six on her last birthday.

This is my daughter.

By the grace of God, it appears that she will live to see her 7th birthday.

* * *

This is the mom. This is the mom who assumed that when children swallow things, they go to the stomach and come out the other end. This is the mom who is grateful for a husband who rushed her daughter to the hospital because she would not stop vomiting. This is the mom who is grateful that she didn't give her daughter anything to eat or drink because it would have gone down the trachea and stopped her breathing. This is the mom who wavered between wanting to strangle her daughter and wanting the doctors to save her life. I am grateful for the outcome.

*That is not the actual ambulance used in the transport.

**That is not the actual house in which we reside...but a girl can dream, can't she.

***Pictures of Macy courtesy of Fauset Photography.

It's All Relative

2010-08-31T21:51:00.007-06:00

The summer before 8th Grade, I attended Oakcrest camp with our church group. Kelly Bowman was my bunkmate. My basic philosophy in life is to become best friends with the most beautiful people - inside and out. Seriously, Kelly was one of the most gorgeous people I've ever seen with my own eyes, and she was "sweet as humble pie" (as my mother would say).

Anyway...At this particular camp, you attended before 7th Grade and again before 8th Grade. This camp had bunkhouses with two counselors assigned to each house. You were guaranteed to be with your bunkmate, but the other girls were mixed in from various wards and stakes. The counselors were all college-age girls who made up silly camp names (like Banana) that, at 14-years-old, we adored and admired and pretty much wanted to pattern our lives after theirs. The main area of the camp was made up of cinder block houses, bathrooms, and a huge indoor cafeteria or "mess hall" or whatever you call a giant building dedicated to eating and singing (we sang before, during, and after every meal). To this day, I'm pretty sure I could belt out a mean "Don't Buy the Liverwurst." In fact, I wonder what my children would say if I serenaded them tomorrow at dinner. Hmmm....

During the second year of this camp, we did what was called a 2-Day. We pretty much took all of our provisions up into the mountains, built a shelter, dug a latrine, and "lived off the land" for a few days. The Pre-Reality TV version of "Man Vs. Wild." Now, I understand that for some people, this would be a piece of cake. Heck! Some people might actually label this type of activity as "fun." Allow me to explain my Outdoor Genetics. My father took my brother to the Fathers-and-Sons Campout a few times. I believe he picked up take out and opted out of the Tinfoil Dinners (pretty sure that term is not in his vocabulary). When it came time to sleep, my dad and brother hoofed it (okay, they drove) to the nearest Best Western (okay, Marriott). We are NOT campers. Any time we did "camp" as a family, we were with my grandparents. They had a Hippie Green Camper Trailer. Therefore, we always had a stove, a sink, a table, a mattress, and "indoor plumbing".

Let me put it this way: Never before, and never since, have I ever been in a situation that required me to dig my own toilet. Even on the Pioneer Trek, we were followed by a giant truck carrying countless port-a-potty's.

As we were preparing for this journey, we were each assigned tasks. I was on the Lunch-Making Committee. To this day, I remember sitting at that picnic table (the one in the front Left-hand side of the Mess Hall) assembling bologna and mustard sandwiches. The "mustard" mixture was in a squeeze device to make it easier and designed to make it look even more appetizing-if that was even possible. It was repulsive. I remember thinking, and may have even exclaimed out loud, that there was absolutely no way in you-know-where (actually, I wouldn't have said that since I was too busy pretending to be Hailey Mills from "Parent Trap") that bologna and mustard would pass through my lips. There are very few things on this planet that I despise more than bologna. In fact, I am unable to come up with anything at this moment that is higher on my list than processed meat. However, this was to be my first experience at understanding the word "Relative."

A few hours later, we started our hike. Each one of us had a 50-pound backpack on to carry our own supplies. In addition, we had to carry up tents, tarps, food, water, tools, etc. Pretty much anything we would need to survive in the wilderness for the next few days. I remember, at one point, I was on the back-end of a stick that was holding several dutch ovens. That was heavy. We had to switch off tasks so that we wouldn't get overly tired. I will never forget reaching our destination, unpacking a few essentials, and sitting down to lunch. Thankfully, each lunch had been packed with two bologna/mustard sandwiches. You see, someone much more experienced than myself, who had the foresight and understanding of the overall experience, and had gone through this activity previously, knew exactly what we would need at that point in time.

I don't believe food has ever tasted so wonderful.

It's all relative.

* * *

Last week, we were in San Francisco. On Saturday morning, we decided to head down to the trolley to do the "Tourist Thing." While we were in line, a man came up to us and was explaining how we can avoid the long lines and possibly even paying for the ride (even though the tickets were already purchased). He told us how we should walk down a few blocks and wait there for the trolley. He seemed a bit aggravated that we weren't taking his advice, and even more aggravated when we wouldn't give him money for dishing out his valuable advice. I tried explaining that we weren't really in a hurry, and we were actually having a very pleasant time.

There I was, in the middle of a gorgeous city, talking and laughing with my amazing husband and two of our best friends, having just finished a scrumptious breakfast (California fruit...Ahhhh...Nothing better), standing outside in what was possibly the most beautiful weather I have ever experienced in San Francisco (seriously-it was perfect with a capital "P"), WITHOUT my five kids. As much as I adore each and every one of them, waiting patiently takes on a whole new meaning when I don't have to yell at anyone to stay in line, or get out of the street, or stop crying, or stop whining, or stop touching each other, or stop breathing on each other, or...well, you get the picture.

B.L.I.S.S.

It's all relative.

* * *

Over the past month, I have had the opportunity to revisit this word again: Relative. As many of you know, my brother-in-law and niece and nephew were in a horrific car accident. In fact, my sister said that the police report actually called it a "Fatal" accident. My niece and nephew walked away from the accident with bumps and bruises and a broken arm thanks to their car seats. (Please, please, please...I am begging all you parents out there to always buckle your children in their car seats. They save lives!!! It is definitely a fight worth fighting!) My sister and I had the opportunity to get them replacement car seats. We entered the store, walked right up to the biggest, sturdiest car seats ever invented, and purchased two without hesitation. We refer to them as "capsules" now. It's almost as if you should push a button and a giant shield would reveal itself and encompass the child. It's comical. I never thought I would become so invested in car seat safety. It's all relative.

My brother-in-law, on the other hand, has had quite the month. He pretty much spent the entire month of August in the ICU or Critical Care Unit of the hospital. He has had several surgeries (apparently, you don't really need your spleen-It's all relative), countless medical procedures, and has been on a roller-coaster ride filled with all sorts of infections, medications, complications, etc. He is now looking forward to a few fun-filled months of in-patient therapy as he "fights like Hell" to function again.

Relativity is synonymous with Appreciation.

I have a greater appreciation for the word "Pain." I have a greater appreciation for the word "Patience." I have a greater appreciation for the word "Normal." I also have a greater appreciation for the miracle of our bodies and admiration for the individual cells of the body as they work together to repair, heal, and (in some cases) compensate for areas that may not heal completely. I have a much deeper appreciation for the gift of prayer and the power of the priesthood and the blessing of the Holy Ghost. This is how the Lord speaks to us. This is how he expresses his love for us. I know it to be true.

My sister is learning a lot about relativity, and her husband is living it. I have spent the past four weeks contemplating...a lot. What is this life really about? I have come to realize that it is less about the "why" and more about the "how." There is an endless stream of questions that begin with "why," and very few of those lead to concrete answers.

One of my favorite talks is "Come What May" by Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin. I used to think I knew what he meant when he quoted his mother by stating, "Come what may, and love it." It's all relative. The entire talk is wonderful, but I want to point out one line: "How can we love days that are filled with sorrow? We can't-at least not in the moment. I don't think my mother was suggesting that we suppress discouragement or deny the reality of pain. I don't think she was suggesting that we smother unpleasant truths beneath a cloak of pretended happiness. But I do believe that the way we react to adversity can be a major factor in how happy and successful we can be in life."

I'm not trying to tell my sister or her husband how to handle this trial. In fact, I have nothing but admiration for both of them. They are not only handling things "the best they can," they are tackling every obstacle gracefully - in a very determined manner. This is more of a lecture for myself. This much I know: I cannot always determine what happens to me, but I can choose my reaction. We get one shot at this life, and whether or not we do it with a fully functioning body or not, we have to live it to the fullest and do our best to "find joy." No matter what happens, there is a Father in Heaven who loves us deeply and knows us deeply. He loves us so much that he gave us the gift of the Savior to help us through those darkest days. I have often thought of Lehi's Dream. We have to walk through the darkness to reach the light. To quote my favorite children's book: "We can't go over it. We can't go under it. I guess we'll have to go through it."

It's all relative.

* * *

My brother-in-law took these photos about a month before the accident. We went up Millcreek Canyon for breakfast. We found these butterflies by the stream. We could go right up to them and they wouldn't fly away. They moved around a bit in a small area. It was amazing. I know the quote talks about "feathers," but I loved the quote.

Dentists: Avert Your Eyes

2010-08-25T16:37:00.002-06:00

The other day, Spencer and Kade were driving me a bit crazy. They were both crawling around and pawing at my legs and reaching up at me and whining. When they want me to pick them up, they crawl over to my toes and try to peel them off the floor. I guess that's code for "Pick Me Up Already." I gave them each several rounds of TLC, but every time I tried to put them down, they resisted. I needed to get some stuff done, so in desperation, I put them both in their highchairs with a sucker!

Spencer was occupied for a few minutes (at least long enough for me to get the dishes done), but Kade was very dedicated to his Tootsie Pop. He was in the highchair for an hour and would not let go of the stick until every last lick was gone, and even then I had to pry the naked stick from his fingers.

Pop-Up School Year

2010-08-20T21:06:00.005-06:00

I got this general idea from this amazing lady. I think good parenting is all about stealing great ideas from other parents. Although I could never do it as beautifully and creatively as her, we did decide to have a theme for the school year: Be Your Best. We managed to have a fun dinner: We made mini-pizzas (from delicious homemade pizza crust) but the kids got to choose cookie cutters and decorate their pizzas. It was a ton of fun. Although the pictures show the kids as very serious and concentrating on their "Food Art," let me assure you that there was plenty of giggling, sharing of ideas, and excitement. So much so that half of the people involved got a little over-excited and burned themselves on the pizza stone (myself included). Dinner=Huge Success

During dinner, while the kids ate (it is amazing how much better they eat when they have a part in creating the meal), I read some excerpts from "Standing for Something" by Gordon B. Hinckley. There is an entire chapter on Learning. Then, we discussed our theme for the year with the use of some famous quotes. I tried really hard to emphasize that the theme was "Be Your Best" NOT "Be Perfect." Even though sometimes they may face difficulties and challenges, we are all (our entire family) going to focus on Being our Best Selves and Doing Our Best Job.

The evening ended with the yummiest dessert and Greg gave each of our children a Father's Blessing. I am amazed at how the gospel blesses our home. Greg had a particularly difficult day and was just feeling heavy-burdened by some work situations. He came home to chaos (making your own pizzas is not an orderly activity for children), but when it came time to give the blessings, I think it may have blessed his life as much (and maybe more) than our children. He was able to express his love to each of them, point out some of their amazing talents/abilities, and bless them individually. Since my children don't generally sit still for 5 seconds, it is amazing to me how intently they listen to these blessings. It was a beautiful evening.

When I hear about other families having these types of evenings, I somehow picture gracious, well-mannered children, hanging on every word of wisdom spoken from the mouths of their parents. We really did have a beautiful evening, but it wasn't without the occasional, "Don't touch her again!" or "You are welcome to come out of your room when you're done crying." or "Please wait your turn" and several reminders about politeness and proper manners. In the end, I hope that our children were able to gather something from this evening. I hope they remember doing fun things as a family (like making silly, creative pizzas). I hope they remember feeling the Spirit in our home. And I hope they remember that Greg and I love them and are here to help them along their journey.

8 Million Children

2010-08-14T21:15:00.007-06:00

So, on a beautiful Friday afternoon, my mom, my sister, and I decided to take ALL the children out to get Rainbows. You get Rainbows at Pace's Dairy Ann in Bountiful. They are basically really flavorful slushies with ice cream in the middle. My parents used to take us there when we were kids, and I was feeling guilty that Austin has been on this earth nine glorious years and had yet to slurp a Rainbow. We packed nine children in two minivans and made the 30 minute trek. We ordered our Rainbows, fries, onion rings, and corn dogs and went to a nearby park.

Whenever I am in public, I feel like I am the center of a freak show. We have a lot of kids - little kids. I've heard rumors that some children are shy and reserved. However, none of those type of children reside in my home. We are loud, boisterous, happy, and a little crazy. It probably doesn't help that I am the mother who lets her babies eat the wood chips at the park (gross!!!):

On top of my five munchkins, we had all the grandkids and a neighborhood friend. Insanity...I know. Overall, I thought it was really fun. The kids desperately needed to get outside, climb all over the playground, explore the nearby "woods," and eat some scrumptious ice cream. What a perfect summer evening!

Abby has been such a trooper. My mom said that she has yet to complain about losing the use of her right arm for 6 weeks or so. She just adapts whatever she's doing to make it work. What a good girl!

This is Max. He's "flying." (Just like Buzz Lightyear. Heard of him??? This little two-year-old is obsessed!) We love it!!!

Cash is such a good sport. Always along for the ride and happy to hang with the big kids.

This little girl is growing up. She isn't my baby anymore (good thing I have two more right behind her). She is losing her adorable, chubby toddler figure. Just look at those long legs and bony knees. I try to command her to stop growing, but that just seems to kick in that growth spurt even sooner. Love her to pieces!

My mom is such a good grandma (excuse me - "Nana"). She has unbelievable patience with all these little kiddos and just seems to eat up their energy. They all A.D.O.R.E. her! Here she is playing pat-a-cake with Kade. We are a little concerned that he is basically not meeting any of his developmental milestones for his age. He is just such a chill, happy little baby. He'll get there!

Then there is this child:

I think we may have spelled his name wrong. Instead of S-p-e-n-c-e-r we should have spelled it S-t-i-n-k-e-r. I love this kid more than words, but he has fire behind his eyes. Can you see it? Look closely? He is so mischievous and curious and strong-willed. Oy Vey!

These three just sat in the bark. Spencer and Cash threw bark on each other while Kade ate it. They were blissfully happy and content for several minutes.

But, this little Stinker did decide that he wanted to walk today. And for some reason, he seems to find it easier if he's carrying something twice his size (a stool or giant toy or a pair of dad's shoes).

The kids didn't quite weigh enough to get the Teeter-Totter to work (or "Tinker-Tocker" as Paige would say). So, Nana and Lisa climbed on. Lisa won the Aunt of the Year Award that night!

You might notice that I am missing a child. Why, you wonder, aren't there any pictures of Macy? Well, clearly because she made a few BFF's within the first few minutes of our arrival and she spent the next couple of hours joined at the hip. In fact, we were all loaded in the car and waiting while she had to say goodbye "just one more time" to all of her friends.

Austin and Jaren were so good to play with Max. They played ball and took him on the pathways through the trees. What good boys!

Picture of the Day: Max with his Stogie

I love this picture and this boy and his adorable giggle with all my heart. After the accident, all Max wanted was "a Coke and some fries." He is his mother's son!

Smiles

2010-08-03T21:45:00.005-06:00

It's been a really long few days for our family. This is not the time or place to record all of the emotions that I've felt. However, as I sat in the ICU Waiting Room yesterday with my sister, family, and close friends, I learned a few things about coping. Most importantly, no matter how grim the situation, it is good to find reasons to smile between the tears. (And that brand new Ariel panties make everything all better - when you're four years old.)

Then, I thought about these pictures of Spencer and Kade. What is it about babies with sunglasses that is just downright funny?!? I dare you not to smile when you look at these two.

Searching for "Us"

2010-07-26T21:04:00.004-06:00

Before I begin, let me add a little caveat:

This is going to be one of those stream-of-consciousness, thinking out loud type of posts.
I don't even know if many people are reading blogs anymore. Lately, the majority of my comments have been from some sort of Asian country - and I can't decipher the language. Not that I need a lot of comments. This blog is for me, and I love it. But, just in case I do get a reader or two, I'm going to be asking a lot of rhetorical questions.
I realize that each marriage is different and individual. This post happens to be about my marriage as seen through my eyes. My husband might actually write something entirely different. Who knows?!? I just wanted to make it clear that I know that my experience is not necessarily universal.

Let's start with one of those rhetorical questions that I was just talking about: Do you ever wonder what happened to "Us"?

Greg and I had the opportunity to get away for a night. That's right - just the two of us. As you can probably imagine, dating hasn't exactly been high on the priority list for the past year and half. (Ironically, "showering" hasn't exactly been high on the priority list either. Perhaps the two are related. Hmmm...) Greg and I are just emerging from the misty darkness of "Surviving". There are still days that I retreat back into that mode. But, for the most part, we are beginning to "Live" again instead of just "Survive."

We had just gone to dinner - an actual Adult Dinner where the food is brought to you by a waitress on actual plates as opposed to something wrapped in yellow tissue paper. We went for a canoe ride on a little pond and then we took a stroll down this quaint little path in Midway. We were laughing, smiling, reminiscing, and talking about 101 different subjects. After a quiet spell, I looked at him and said, "Remember 'Us'?" He smiled and said, "Yes. I do." We walked in silence for a couple of steps, and I said, "What happened to 'Us'?" He sighed and said, "I don't know...'Us' never yelled. 'Us' never swore at the dinner table. 'Us' was never to exhausted to hear about every detail of the day...I liked 'Us'."

For Greg and I, those first few years of marriage was just like playing house. It was as if we both walked around on cheerful clouds and slid around on rainbows. We relished our time together. We worked opposite schedules, and I was still finishing up college. I would drive through Fruit Heights and buy daily produce from the little vegetable stands and make dinner. He worked nights. I can remember several evenings that I waited up for him with some sort of surprise. One time, I put my wedding dress on and played our wedding song so I was ready for a dance when he walked in the door. He wrote me silly little poems on homemade cards when I was stressed over an exam. We created scavenger hunts for birthdays around our 900 square-foot condo.

Cheesy...Corny...But oh so blissfully ignorant and happy.

Then, in both the long eight years and incredibly fast eight years that followed, we managed to have five children. Don't get me wrong - I love them; I adore them; They give my life purpose and joy and help me to struggle and learn and grow. Whenever Greg and I do get away for a few minutes, we spend most of that time talking about those 5 monkeys. We laugh about how funny they are, and we talk about how we can improve as parents, and we analyze a problem with one (or more) of them and brainstorm ways that we can help.

It really is a lovely way to live.

However, somehow "Us" gets a little lost in the madness. "Us" pops in occasionally. Is this a common problem? Is this just our phase of life? What do you do to keep "Us" around?

Whatever the answer, "Us" enjoyed a good 24 hours together this past weekend celebrating the past 11 years. And you know what...I find that I have been more patient, more kind, more loving, and definitely more grateful these past few days. In fact, I have not even raised my voice - not once. I have cuddled my babies more. I have smiled at spilled milk (with Paigie Pie around, it happens A LOT - trust me). I have noticed the good in my children, and I expressed my pride and gratitude to my older ones. "Us" makes me a better person.

Ahhhh...I love "Us."

My Three Amigos

2010-07-23T13:26:00.006-06:00

Amigo Numero Uno

The other day, Austin took an inventory of the pantry and kitchen. After his assessment, he grabbed a post-it note and wrote me a list: apples, cream, grapefrute, cheese, eggs, yogurt, 3 pieces of candy, red milk, and chireeos.

(When I asked him about the list, he offered a few explanations: The cream is for peaches and cream - I also find it ironic that "peaches" did not make the list. Three pieces of candy: "One for each of the kids.")

Amigo Numero Dos

Greg planned FHE on Monday night. We went to the South Town Expo Center to view the floats for the upcoming Pioneer Day Parade. When I first told Macy, she asked me what flavor. I laughed and explained they were not "ice cream floats." Then, she asked if they would be able to swim in them. She said this 3 or 4 times. I was so confused. Then, I finally made the connection: We call swimming tubes "floaties." I tried explaining what they really were, but since my children are ultra-deprived and have never been to a parade, she was clueless. I finally just told her that she would have to be surprised.

She went and got dressed (possibly outfit #6 or 7 - she goes through quite a few in a day). She obviously had quite a few layers on. When I lifted up her shirt, I saw her swimsuit. I asked her why she was wearing that. Her answer: "Just in case you're wrong about the floats."

* * *

Macy was in the car with Lisa telling her all about how we live on a little speck of dust. Lisa suggested that we don't actually live on a speck of dust, and that it's just a fun story/movie. Very seriously, Macy said: "Lisa! A person's a person no matter how small!"

Amigo Numero Tres

Austin was playfully teasing Paige by calling her a Goofball. She was becoming irate. Finally, I told her to calm down and that it was just a silly name. There was no need to get so upset. More angry than ever, she said, "Mom! Look at my face!" Then with a pleading tone, she added, "I'm Paige, right?!?"

* * *

The other day, I said to Paige, "Go finish your cereal before it gets too soggy."

She said: "I don't want to eat my cereal because then my tummy will be big like yours."

Big Brother; Big Sister

2010-07-13T13:45:00.008-06:00

This boy...This one right here...

He is simply A.MAZ.ING!!! People have told me that these pre-teen years are the Golden Age of childhood. We are really enjoying him. He's old enough to really "get it," and yet he still really likes us. We joke with him, chat with him, and he is really so pleasant most of the time. I've worried about him because the girls will have each other, and the twins will have each other, but I he's just sort of stuck out there - at the beginning of our family - sort of all alone. We wondered what kind of relationship he would have with his brothers - being 8 years apart. He absolutely adores them. He has so much patience with them, loves helping them, and relishes in teaching them things. I walked into the front room today and found this:

Austin had put Spencer on the bench with him while he was practicing his piano.

The most amazing thing to me is that Austin was able to go on with his normal practice with his baby brother pounding on the keys right next to him. It didn't phase him; it didn't distract him. I guess that's what it's like - being the oldest of 5!

If your hands get tired, go ahead and try playing with your mouth. (Don't worry; I'm sure this is perfectly sanitary.)

Check out the second picture - Can you tell that Spence is swinging his legs while playing. He was just dancing away to his own little music. Love it!

Just taking a closer look at the notes. What a good little pianist! Oh, and don't forget the page turn.

Austin has really blossomed this past year in his piano playing. He is really loving it, and it is rarely a battle to practice anymore. I found a book for boys. Right now, he is playing songs from "Harry Potter" and "Star Wars." He gets excited about practicing and taking on the challenge of these harder pieces. Love it!!!

I just love this picture. Spencer is staring up at Austin. Fair or not - the oldest sibling sets an example and somewhat of a precedence. I hope that all my children follow his example in the music department. He has been so diligent and he is starting to really love it. Thanks for being such a fabulous Big Brother, Austin. I sure do love you!

Meanwhile, in another corner of the house, Macy has hijacked Kade and turned him into "Andriella":

So sorry, Bud:

The attempted escape:

The capture:

Trying to have a sense of humor about the situation:

I think this is how he really feels about his torture:

This Week in Snapshots

2010-07-11T15:38:00.014-06:00

Austin turned 9 (N.I.N.E.) - can you even believe it??? He asked us how many days he's been alive. So, we told him to multiply 365 by 9 and add 7. He laughed, grabbed Dad's iphone, and found the calculator app (kids these days). I feel a bit like Rip Van Winkle. How come I can only recall a handful of those 3, 292 days??? What happened to my little boy? He's turned into a big kid in the blink of an eye. I sure love you, Bud!

Macy (enough said):

Sisters (with "Summer Hair"):

Paige emerged from my bathroom looking like this the other day (I promptly found a new place to put my make-up):

These are the very happy hands of a boy that has just returned from Scout Camp. Awesome! Definitely one of the highlights of the summer for my Cub Scout! He came home on cloud nine both days, talking our ear off about all the highlights (BB guns, archery, and the jokes - oh the endless jokes), and looking (and smelling) like Pig-pen from Charlie Brown. Thanks to all the wonderful leaders for making this possible.

When Greg and Austin got home from the Fathers-And-Sons Campout last month, Macy asked when it was going to be "Daddys & Daughters." He promised her a fishing trip. He was sure she would be bored out of her mind, but she surprised him. I guess she LOVED casting. She even practiced in the front yard when she got home (she was trying to catch the car). She said her goal was to cast it "20 feet." They didn't catch any fish, but some people gave them one of theirs. She wasn't too sure about the gutting of the fish though. We grilled it up and she ate all of it (she is definitely my best fish eater).

*Yes, I did let my daughter out of the house dressed like that. Hair in shambles, too-big hat hanging over her ears, and please - don't forget to check out the socks!

The Mullet Crisis of 2010:

Before & After:

Paige's new "I'm Getting My Picture Taken" face, complete with squinty eyes and crooked smile. I get it every time she sees a camera. I like to call it: I'm Three and I Have My Own Brain - In Case You Haven't Noticed

Weird Shot - I was taking some stuff out the garbage with my little helper. On the way back, Paige said, "Can you hold my hand." I saw our shadows in the grass and snapped a picture.

We could not get Paige in bed fast enough last night. She was beyond grumpy. It was all I could do to take a deep breath and read her a story (instead of toss her on the bed and walk out the door). When Macy went to bed, this is what we found. This sweet little angel, with her hands tucked tenderly under her head, couldn't possible be the same terror nightmare that was on the rampage just 30 minutes earlier! One time, I asked my mom why she had so many pictures of us sleeping (when we were kids). Without missing a beat, and in her sweetest, most sincere voice, she said, "Because that's when I loved you the most."

Apparently the twins were in bed or down for a nap while we were taking all these pictures. It's difficult to navigate a camera (or anything really) with four arms and four legs constantly grabbing and climbing and wanting every bit of attention. But, after two tries, this fabulous lady did manage to get some dang cute photos of my sweet boys. Check it out!

My New Haircut: Take Two

2010-07-08T15:38:00.004-06:00

Remember my last haircut...That was eight months ago. Against my better judgement, I decided it was time to try again. Most people average two haircuts a year...right?!? Greg kind of liked my hair long (I use that term in a relative sense), and I liked being able to pull it into a ponytail during the summer, but the split ends were getting out of hand.

So, I walked in and asked for a trim. TRIM!!! She said, "So, are you thinking about a half an inch." Sure. That sounded good to me. She asked, "Do you want me to trim your layers too?" Of course, especially since that is where most of the split ends were coming from. She actually did cut a half inch off the length, and I'm estimating 3-4 inches off the layers.

At first, I thought, maybe it won't be so bad after I wash it and style it myself.

Wrong!

This is what I ended up with:

Actually, it's closer to one of these:

I know the 80s are back, but I think this might be pushing it a bit. So, I am on the hunt for a very , very talented hairstylist to fix this disaster. I'm thinking we might have to chop it off to my ears to salvage it. Dorothy Hamill here we come!

Grow hair, GROW!!!

Always Awesome

2010-06-22T20:23:00.004-06:00

A few weeks ago, we were sitting in church, and Macy wanted to write some stuff down. She asked me about some spelling, and she wrote her sentence. Afterward, she showed me. I complimented her and told her how lovely her handwriting was. She looked up at me and said (with a shoulder shrug), "I'm always awesome." (And "humble" I might add.)

Miss Macers lost her first tooth a couple of weeks ago. It has been loose for a very long time, and she finally decided it was time for it to come out. Greg wrapped some dental floss around it, counted down from 20 (her suggestion), and yanked. We have evidence that it came out based on the hole in her mouth, but her actual tooth is MIA. We didn't even hear it land. Greg has scoured the room, I have vacuumed several times, I've even dusted, but that tooth has not shown up. Who knows?!? Macy was a very good sport about it. Luckily, with Dad's help, Macy wrote a note to the Tooth Fairy who forgave the loss and rewarded her with two dollars.

She's always awesome.

Happy Father's Day: A Female Perspective

2010-06-20T21:58:00.006-06:00

Greg and I had the opportunity to attend the temple last night. We made a goal when we first got married that we would go to the temple at least once a month. We have been pretty good with that goal - except for the past year. I have only been a handful of times, and I have missed it terribly. We did Initiatories. Over the hour and half that we were there, I had the opportunity to look into the faces of about a dozen women. Maybe two of them were my mother's age, but most of them were quite a bit older. Each of them has lived so much of life. I was overcome with how strikingly beautiful a woman's face is as she ages. I found the lines and wrinkles so fascinating, and their eyes were absolutely radiant.

I thought a lot about these women that I had never met before, and will most likely never come in contact with again in this life. I figured that each of them have deep, strong testimonies of the gospel to give up their Saturday evenings to serve in the temple. As I looked into their eyes, I could see and feel their love for the Savior and this work. I figured that each one of them have faced challenges in their lives. Undoubtedly, many of them have suffered loss, and all of them have most definitely struggled through periods of frustration and trials. I figured that they are among Heavenly Father's most righteous daughters. And yet, they were all so different.

Some spoke quickly, others were positively animated while they spoke. There was one sister that just made me smile. I imagined how lovely it would have been to be a child of hers and have her tell bedtime stories. She was quite entertaining. One sister spoke incredibly slow - emphasizing each and every word. I imagined that this is probably how she is in all aspects of life; careful, exact, precise, and purposeful. One sister had the most gorgeous blue eyes. They were the color of the sky on a clear, summer day. Captivating. One sister spoke with a Brazilian accent. She moved her lips so quickly, and the accent was gorgeous. I could have listened to her all evening. One sister struggled through every one of my Chinese names. She was boisterous, and just smiled at her pronunciation. She tried her best, but did not seem flustered. I could imagine her plowing through everything in her life - with a smile and a laugh and a shrug of the shoulders when it didn't go perfectly. It is possible for each of us to live this life in our way, and worship in our way, and grow in our way.

As I sat there, I felt such a connection with these women. I felt such a connection with all women. I gained new insight to how the Gospel of Jesus Christ specifically blesses women. But mostly I felt so deeply how much our Heavenly Father loves his daughters. I know that my husband loves all of our children - deeply. But honestly, his daughters hold a very special place in his heart. I think most men would admit to this. There is such a unique bond between a father and his daughters. And I wondered if perhaps it isn't the same for our Heavenly Father. I knew that he loved these beautiful women that I met in the temple. They were his precious daughters, and so am I. It was one of those moments that can never be taken from me. A simple, yet profound moment where I felt so loved. A moment that seems almost too sacred to share, and yet I want to add my testimony of this sacred, eternal, unconditional love.

(Macy and I discovered this beautiful butterfly on our flowers this morning. She didn't stay long, and we didn't want to get too close. I just love Spring!)

To My Dad: My dad went above and beyond the call of duty this weekend. He and my mom took my five children so Greg and I could attend the temple. Normally, this wouldn't be such a sacrifice, but my sweet Paige has broken her leg. It is currently in a splint, and this child is miserable with a capital "M". She has cried for days!!! She has been awake and whining most of the hours of the night the past three nights. (Sidenote: For the record, I am not known for my patience at 4:08 in the morning.) I desperately needed a break, and my parents stepped up. Sure enough, she cried/whined for two hours straight when they got there. Finally, out of exhaustion and desperation, my mom surrendered to shoving candy in her mouth every time she opened it. While my mom was attending Paige, my dad was in charge of the twins. It is easy to be a good parent when everyone is getting along, people are in good moods, and things are going smoothly. It is easy to be a good dad on fun, exciting outings. But, a good dad - a really good dad - is there when it is tough. Thanks Dad, for being an amazing father. I love you. I am so blessed.

To My Husband: I love being the mother and observing this relationship that you have with our kids. I know you can't always see it, but you are the axis that their world's revolve around. You are the center of their universe. They adore you. A-Dore! You bring so much happiness into our home and into the lives of our kids. I feel so honored to share this life with you. Your dedication to me and to these kids is so inspiring. I know that you do a lot "behind the scenes." I know that you work so hard for us. I know that you carry a lot of stress and pressures on your shoulders. I know that you carry this burden alone to ease my burden. I am so happy that there is a day to celebrate your self-sacrifice and emphasize the importance of fathers. I love you. I am so blessed.

One of THOSE Days

2010-06-15T22:35:00.005-06:00

This is how I feel tonight:

I think a combination of allergies (I don't know what the wind has stirred up, but I have been sneezing nonstop ALL DAY and my eyes are itching like crazy) and summer just kicking me in the butt (honestly, five kids home ALL DAY is just more of a tornado than I can keep up with), and I raise the white flag tonight. I surrender.

How many times a day do you say: "Shut the door!"??? Just one of the sounds of summer, I guess.

*This picture is a family favorite for obvious reasons that involve great torture on my behalf. Although that looks like Spencer (same carseat that he is using now), it is actually Austin. That picture was taken eight years ago. If you look closely, I bet you'll see a little drool on the corner of my mouth. I'm known for drool...and natural beauty, of course.

Peace and Quiet: New Meaning

2010-06-06T15:14:00.004-06:00

My mother always had a beautiful flower garden in the front of our house and a vegetable garden in the backyard. I remember talking to her from our 2nd floor deck while she weeded her strawberries in the warm summer sun. Although I definitely grew up appreciating a small garden and fresh flowers, when I was a child/teenager (and even Young Adult), I could not understand her draw to the work itself. I have found that preparing soil and planting consume several hours for days (or even weeks, in my case). After the planting, you have the upkeep: the watering, weeding, pest-control, etc. I remember several summer evenings when my mother would stand outside and water her garden. It would take 20 minutes to a half an hour (in other words, a veritable eternity to a teenager). I used to feel so sorry for her that she had to stand outside...alone...in silence...with nothing entertaining to watch, and just water plants. Honestly, how BORING!

Last night, I had my three youngest in bed and the older two were showered and ready for bed. They were just reading and drawing and trying to stall bedtime. I went outside and watered my newly planted flowers and plants for a good half an hour. It was so enjoyable. After a hot, busy, productive day, it felt so good to stand outside in thegorgeous weather of a Spring evening and just take it all in. I didn't feel like I was escaping my kids (the "work" of kids was done for the day), but I think I am beginning to better understand the peace that comes from having and tending a garden. While I was outside, I don't think one car drove by, and most neighbors were already in for the night (although Claire and I did discuss the misfortune that occurs when cold air hits a baby boy during a diaper change), and I just stood there, listening to the birds and sprinklers and pondering the past day and the upcoming day. Peace and quiet...ahhhh.

Moral of the Story: I truly am aging. But, I think I'm okay with it.

Of course, with all the help I have, you might ask yourself why I even need peace and quiet:

Simplicity

2010-05-28T14:16:00.003-06:00

I love this kid so much. For those of you that have read my blog at all, you know that I struggle with this one at times. Well, I struggle with all of my kiddos at times, but I have been frustrated because I haven't known how to help him for much of his life. He was my colicky baby, my over-active toddler, and my boy that never stops moving. I get exhausted. Plus, he's my first. Let's be honest: They get the Rookie Parent Mistakes their entire lives.

Austin likes to take his Pokemon cards to school to trade during recess. I don't understand this phenomenon at all, but he is fascinated by the cards and trading them and getting ones with different powers and all the different morphing, etc. I remember, way back in college, we learned that collections are a major part of childhood development. For boys, it's generally cards of some type. Since he uses his money for all cards, I figure he is learning all of those pertinent lessons for his age through the guise of Pokemon.

When I picked him up at school today, he was talking to a boy that I didn't recognize. Austin ran to the car and asked if he could "run really quick" and "be right back." He grabbed some cards, and ran to find this boy. He was across the street. When he found him, Austin gave him some of his cards and ran back to the car. What he didn't see was the look on that boy's face as he turned to his sister. His face completely lit up in excitement as he showed his older sister and said, "My very first Pokemon card!"

I'm not going to lie: I sat in the car with tears streaming down my face. I think I tend to focus WAY too much on all the times that my kids behave in a way contrary to what we are trying to teach that I don't recognize these types of moments enough. It wasn't a great service project or a huge sacrifice, but it was just a simple act of kindness. It touched my heart to see one of my children thinking outside of himself. In essence, Austin made the day for two people today, and I don't even think he realizes it.

Macyisms

2010-05-28T11:40:00.012-06:00

This girl cracks me up on a daily basis! I keep thinking that she'll grow out of it (which will be a very sad day), but it hasn't happened so far. It may be that she is always talking and her thoughts are verbalized instead of kept inside. Whatever it is, I hope it never stops. You spend a few hours with her, and I will guarantee that she will put a smile on your face. Here are a few of her latest (that I can remember):

My parents came over for FHE last Monday. We had a really great night. We made family trees and then we each took turns sharing interesting stories about each other. My mom brought pictures from her childhood and my dad brought his cub scout book he made. They also brought stuff for smores. We started the BBQ, put the marshmallows on the sticks, and put them over the grill. We handed one to each of the kids to hold over the grill and get perfectly brown and crusty. With a giggle in her voice, Macy said, "Look! I'm smore-ing."

* * *

Every summer we fight a battle: Human vs. Snail. I cleaned out our flower beds the other day and planted some flowers. It was a lovely day. I put the boys on some blankets in the yard (which they stayed on for a good hour because of their hatred of grass). I dug all the holes, Macy poured in some water, and Paige and Tae stuck the flowers in. Macy followed the girls and patted the flowers down with dirt. (Then, I sneakily followed Macy and just "made sure" that each flower was actually planted.) Later on, Macy and Claire took the girls and the twins on walks. Everyone was happy and content for hours.

However, throughout the course of the day, I found several snails. I have trained my girls to rejoice when we see worms in our garden and despise the snails. This morning, Macy came running in the house in a panic. "Mom! A snail ate one of your big, red flowers." I said, "How do you know? Did you see it?" She said, "Yes. But I couldn't catch it. It got away - fast!" Puzzled, I said, "Well, I wonder if it was a snail because snails usually aren't very fast. They move very, very slowly." With a shrug, she replied, "I tried to catch it, but it just snailed away."

* * *

Macy's kindergarten class sang a song at a school meeting the other night - kind of as a "Welcome" to the meeting. They were adorable! It was an old Janeen Brady song (for those of you who were Mormon growing up in the 70s). When we were leaving, Macy said, "I'm going to sing my 'la la' song." Greg asked, "Your 'la la' song?" She said, "Yep. All we do is 'la'."

* * *

A few weeks ago, over breakfast, Macy made the following observation. (Keep in mind that she did not in any way say it snotty or bratty, she was merely making an observation. It was the same as if she would have said, "Hey, you're wearing a yellow shirt today.")

"Mom it's kind of like you're a maid, but you're really a mom. It's like we are the kids that own a maid. But, we're really kids who own parents."

* * *

And one from Austin: "How come we can't have chicken for the sacrament?"

Humbled (or Humiliated)

2010-05-23T21:39:00.009-06:00

WARNING: This is a bit of a gripe fest. But, it's my blog, so I guess I'm entitled from time to time.

Nothing is more humbling than taking five kids to church. Most of the time, I feel like I am juggling this circus of our life pretty decently. Everyone is alive, our house is still standing, and although it may be close, I highly doubt a HAZMAT team could condemn the house. (Between you and me, the toilets occasionally get scrubbed, although I'd definitely steer clear of my clothes closet.) But there is just something about being on display for three hours in a place where "reverence" is the magic word that brings out that frazzled, harried, exhausted mother.

First of all, I have a three-year-old. Argggg is all I have to say (not like a pirate, more like a very frustrated mother who may suffer permanent damage due to eye rolling). Three is so unbelievably tough for me. I'm mourning the loss of my sweet angel. She used to be polite, loving, dang sweet, and so very happy. Now, I feel like she gets out of bed every morning and puts on her hypothetical boxing gloves and sets out for the fight of her life. EVERY DAY!!! Unfortunately, I am her opponent. I told Greg that I don't know if I'll live through this year. He said, "You say that every time." It's true. Austin survived; Macy survived; somehow I survived. I supposed Paige will survive too. If I can just figure out a way to do it without so much negotiation and tears.

As much as I love the girl, she is the most clumsy person I have ever met. So, since church is right during lunch time, I bring snacks. Inevitably, the cheddar bunnies end up on the floor, in the pew, down her dress, etc. If I'm lucky, I rummage around on my knees (in a dress) to pick them all up before she squashes them (which she does for funsies). She falls down at least a half a dozen times and inevitably smacks a head or elbow on the wooden corners. Every bump is a greek tragedy - at least she act like it's one. Not to mention the inability of three-year-olds when it comes to whispering. I'm pretty sure it is physically impossible. She is just a nightmare during Sacrament Meeting. I want to shout "Hallelujah" when she can finally go to nursery and play to her little heart's content.

Secondly, I have two mobile 12-month-olds. Church is absolute torture for them. These two boys are very happy babes. They roam the house all day long. As long as they are moving, they are happy. This doesn't fly at church. It's like Greg and I play Keep Away all through Sacrament Meeting. We are constantly swapping babies. I try not to look around and see the faces of all the people around us that shake their heads and thank the Lord that they do not have our life.

Right now, both boys are both getting their four top teeth. That would be a total of eight teeth. They are pretty grumpy. I am this close to going in and cutting them out myself. Then, maybe the noses will stop running, the fevers will go away, and my clingy, miserable boys will start eating again (Eating = Happy). I generally juggle both of them in Relief Society and do just fine. Not today. They were soooooo tired, and they both wanted me. But, they didn't really want me, they really wanted their beds. They climbed all over me trying to get comfortable enough to sleep and they never achieved their goal. Even though they were grumpy, I have to admit that it is somewhat flattering that I don't resemble a large mattress. But, that just meant uncomfortable, exhausted, teething babies. I was well aware of all the people that we were disturbing. Several wonderful people tried to help, but they were just too tired and in too much discomfort to want anybody but me. I felt like I had run a marathon when it was finally over.

Before I had children, and I was an expert in raising children, I envisioned myself always sitting next to my husband at church. I could see us on one end of the pew, holding hands, with our brood of six children sitting beside us - all listening intently and looking like models in their perfectly pressed dress shirts and poofy dresses with matching bows. I thought, "This way, my children will see their parents showing affection and know how much we love each other and love them and love the gospel." Instead, we each take an end and block our kids and the disaster that accompanies them in one aisle. We generally walk away with snot on our shoulders, pen on our clothes, crackers smeared on our chest, and all my jewelry pulled off. Sometimes, my clothes are so skiwompus that my bra straps show.

"This too shall pass" swims through my head at times like this. I just feel like we are a giant disaster every week at church. Greg and I come home exhausted - not uplifted. It's frustrating. I feel like our Spiritual Lever is running on empty most Sunday's. I've heard that all frustration comes from unmet expectations. I sure created one doozy of an expectation. No wonder I'm frustrated. In all honesty, I just feel so guilty for being so distracting. I don't really know what to do to improve the situation and that just adds to the frustration.

A few weeks ago, the Primary President was asking the kids what they knew about the Sacrament. Macy's hand shot into the air and she said, "You only take one piece of bread; not two."

We've just got to do better!

Boys or Monkeys???

2010-05-17T21:21:00.007-06:00

Eight years ago, I had a little blond boy that I loved with all my heart. He loved fishes, trucks, and putting his food on the top of his head. And he climbed...and climbed...and climbed.

I remember one night when I was in the kitchen making dinner and he was toddling around me. I heard the tinkling of the piano keys in the front room. He would often wander in by the piano, reach up, and plunk the keys (the twins do this on a regular basis - they can't see the keys, but they love to hear the sound). I wasn't worried. I knew where he was based on the sound. After a few minutes, I wandered in to check on him. He was on top of the piano. Apparently, the piano keys were being played by his feet as he navigated his way to the top.

Then, I had two girls. I love them with all my heart. These girls were born with independent minds and a little fire in their soul, but they kept their feet on the ground.

Then, I had two little blond boys (who look amazingly similar to the first). I love each one of them with all my heart. They love the dishwasher, splashing in the bathtub, and oatmeal. And they climb...and they climb...and they climb.

Exhibit #1: The Step Stool

Exhibit #2: The Bunk Bed Ladder

Three observation from looking at these pictures:

Those prayers for safety that we say every morning evening are not trite repetitions. They are the pleadings of a mother's heart. And every evening, when I kneel down with gratitude in my heart for another day of safety, I mean it with every inch of my being.
Digital cameras have come a LONG way in a few short years.
Spencer scrunches up his nose just like me when he smiles really big. I wonder if he'll hate his prom picture as much as I do because of the scrunched nose.