This must be Thursday. . . .

Her Highness is Not Pleased

2012-02-12T21:20:00.000-07:00

It has been unseasonably warm, so we left the front door open for a little while the other day. Lil' Girl saw the sun streaming into the living room and got very upset.
Her: "Why is the door open?"
John: "Because it is a beautiful day outside."
Her: "Well, I HATE it. The clouds are not PINK. It is NOT a beautiful day!"

And after the fourth trip to the bathroom when she was supposed to be sleeping.
Me: "Go to bed and stay there."
Her: *sigh* "Mom, don't worry about ME."
Me: "Stay in bed."
Her: (another long-suffering sigh) "Fine."

And getting ready in the morning:
Me: "Come, lets comb your hair real quick and get it out of your face."
Her: "Mom. It's fine."
Me: "But it's in your face."
Her: "But I'm a princess. I can just wiggle it out." (and then she demonstrates the proper princess hair tossing technique)

Mr. Darcy had Autism

2012-02-11T12:55:00.001-07:00

I've heard a lot of people say that some mental issues are only a fad. That things like ADHD and Autism aren't really as prevelant as statistics would have us believe. These people seem to think that if no-one had a name or a medicine for a disability then no-one would HAVE that disability; that people who raise awareness for a disorder are somehow causing the disorder. I find this facinating (and sad).

It's true that as doctors get better at diagnosing we will see more people with certain labels. And maybe there are some doctors out there who misdiagnose out of ignorance or lazyness. I'm also sure there are some environmental factors to some of these "newer" disorders that we've yet to figure out. And now that we don't gather up people with dementia, down syndrome, depression, epilepsy and every other abnormality we can think of and label them "insane" and send them to an institution; naturally you are going to see an hear about these things more often.

But there is one thing we don't talk about much in the context of people with disabilities or disorders, and that is that our society is changing so quickly and we only label and treat things that are a problem. If it doesn't interfere with what we think someone should be doing, then it isn't an illness. And our expectations have changed wildly over the past couple hundred years.

They cut out the bottom of the frame
so you can't see his hands flapping.

Which brings us to Mr. Darcy and his high-functioning Autism. I could write a whole thesis on this - let's just say if there was such a thing as a degree in psychology and literature you would have to call me Doctor.

Everyone who meets Darcy at a party thinks he is rude because he doesn't initiate conversation and has little to say. His friends say he is a wonderful man, but takes some time to get to know. He admits how uncomfortable people make him, especially in large groups. It is because he is autistic and has a hard time reading social cues. He says how irritating he finds the music with so many people around - maybe a little bit of sensory processing disorder as well? His disorder makes it hard to easily converse with people, and they assume he looks down on them.

Memorizing the number of rose
sconces in the mantelpiece.

A man born in the time and station of Mr. Darcy had a good chance of being very successful despite his Autism. He would have had tutors and governesses giving him one-on-one instruction constantly. And at the time, social mores were much more rigid. There were rules about who talks to whom first, what to say and how to say it. Life would be much easier for those with Autism if they had a set of rules to memorize on how to interact with people on a daily basis. Our culture is changing so fast that there are almost no conventions for polite behavior anymore, and people are proud of their "openness" and "freedom" and think that anyone who tries to teach basic manners is a prude. Of course people who have a hard time reading social cues are standing out more - our society is not supporting them like it used to. So now we see him as a "problem" and he needs treatment, instead of every woman waiting with hearts a-flutter hoping he will notice her.

Mostly what I'm saying is that there are probably lots more disorders out there that have yet to be named because they are not a problem right now. Maybe someday they will be.

What actually got me thinking about this is the fact that you can have ADHD (Attention Deficit, Hyperactive Disorder) or ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) but why can't you have HD (Hyperactive Disorder)? Because what do we call someone who is hyperactive but can concentrate for long periods of time? Driven. Ambitious. Around here we call him John.

I believe my dear husband was born without the ability to be still. He can sit, but he can't not think of 10 new ideas in five minutes. He loves to be busy, he needs it. To the point where he recently quit his comfy corporate job to do free-lance work because he didn't have enough to do. The job he only worked part time while he gets his PhD. And teaches. And does research. And volunteers several hours a week at church. And makes sure his is available to help the kids with homework. And did I mention I've been sick, so he has taken over the dinner, laundry, lunch-making chores as well? Plus, he is really good in bed. I love the man dearly, but if you ever called him "normal" I'd have to laugh in your face.

I guess I just wanted to say that none of us fit in a mold. We all have quirks. It all kind of depends on your perspective. Next time you see someone you might want to classify as weird - try picturing him in a puffy shirt and cravat; it may just be a Mr. Darcy.

And I must add a plug for the book Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. It is AWESOME. Not least for the fact that Darcy beats up Wickham - dude totally had it coming.

The more things change. . .

2012-02-10T13:30:00.000-07:00

the more they stay the same.

2007

2012

Manling

2012-02-05T21:27:00.000-07:00

So I was rubbing lotion on my son's back the other day and I noticed how broad his shoulders are getting, especially compared with his narrow waist. I know that it is mostly just because he is so tall and skinny and growing so quickly. But just for a moment, he wasn't my little boy anymore - he was almost a man. No longer needing me to take care of him or tell him what to do.

It was kind of terrifying, actually. I felt like my time with him is slipping away so fast. Soon, I won't be his favorite person anymore. Truthfully, I'm not his favorite person most of the time now. Seven-year-olds, well, they're special. In my mind seven is the new three (ie: the age that is surprisingly difficult and I don't know what to do.) (For more on three-year-olds, go here and here.)

Most cultures have some kind of coming-of-age ceremony around the 7-8-9 ages. Kids are given more responsibility and privelages. As I watch my son, I can really see why. His whole way of thinking is changing.

Most of the development in middle childhood is mental and emotional, the super-fast physical development of the toddler years has slacked off dramatically, deceiving you into thinking maybe things will calm down a little. Since you can't see the mental development, it may catch you off guard, but trust me, you won't miss anything. In the infant/toddler years you can go out of town for a week and completely miss a whole stage - not so in middle childhood. The stages come on gradually and linger and linger and linger - you'll KNOW.

He is developing empathy, which is HUGE. Empathy means friendships are deeper and more complicated, games and sports are more involved, he can lie intentionally and accurately, he can manipulate. He can also be very sweet and understanding. He has a serious fixation with justice and fairness - though fair is defined pretty narrowly as "equal." Which means we can have fun conversations like this:

Him: "It isn't FAIR that I have homework and Lil' girl doesn't."
Me: "She's two. You didn't have homework when you were two."
Him: "So. It still isn't fair."
Me: "Well, you're just going to have to get over that."
Him: "Well, you're going to have to get over SAYING that."
(Oh and have I mentioned the ATTITUDE?)

There are also a whole vocabulary of grunts and humphs and eye rolls and foot stomps to let me know his displeasure.

The anger is the hardest for me to handle, but also the best thing going on with him right now. I'll try not to lecture you too much on child-development. He is getting a lot more control over his emotions, and is able to distract himself from things that are distressing. So the talking back, foot stomping, ect, are actually replacement behaviors for crying and whining; giving him a little distance and control over the situation. It's good. It's also annoying.

All of this is good, and it means that his views on morality can shift from "This is wrong because I will be punished for it." to "This is wrong because it could hurt someone else."

We're Latter-Day Saints, which means that if he chooses, he can be baptized after he turns eight. We believe that at eight a child can be accountable for his own actions - before this any misbehavior or sin were the direct responsibility of the parent (which is scary). But at eight, he can make his first covenant with God, and begin to decide what kind of person he wants to be for the rest of his life. We also believe that any child who dies before eight immediatly goes to heaven, after that, they will be judged on their choices. But again, the parents are responsible to teach them how to make good choices, and we will be accountable before God for how we taught (and showed good examples to) our children. So no pressure.

Also, before eight, Satan is not allowed to tempt a child - all misbehavior is a result of the examples children have seen. After eight, they can start coming up with ideas on their own.

As part of his baptism, he will also recieve a special blessing, the option of the constant guide of the Holy Ghost to help him make good choices. Every human being has the Holy Ghost to guide them - we usually call it a conscience. But it comes and goes, and bothers us less the more we ignore it. But with the "Gift of the Holy Ghost" you can be guided through ALL your choices in life. Which is cool, when you are willing to always do what is right, which is hard.

Whew! We're done with Sunday School (for now). So I'm reminding myself of this as I watch him ignore me and start making decisions simply because HE wants to and not because I tell him to. (Gee, I wonder where he sees that.) Now is a good time for him to want to be independant and I need to respect that, even when it is annoying or makes my life more complicated.

The more I pray about what to do, the more the answers come that I shouldn't do anything. I shouldn't lecture, shouldn't remind. HE KNOWS. I just need to let him figure it out. Do you know how hard that is? Inaction is not a parenting skill of mine. But he has been taught right from wrong, and I just need to let the natural consequences take their course. (Most of the time.)

Also, most of my discipline stratagies have been phazed out now. You don't really send a seven-year-old to "time out." I occasionally sent him to his room, but that is more so that both of us can cool off. See, he usually hides candy in his pockets and a book in his bed - so sending him to his room is not really a punishment. I do threaten to take away privelages. But he is most attached to his books, and it is hard for me to want to take those away from him. "You can't read!" kind of runs counter to our entire parenting philosophy. Again, natural consequences. You don't clean up your toys = mom cleans up your toys and you can't find them (no wonder they check the garbage). And I really can't punish him for attitude. As annoying as I find it, annoying isn't a punishable offense at our house. Danger and destruction are pretty much the only things that are. It's a good thing too - I would be sent to time out regularly based solely on the music I like that no-one else does.

So I'm doing what I always do. I pray. A lot. I highly recomend praying no matter what your religious affiliation is. Especially as a parent. And I mean more than meditating. It really helps me to talk through everything I'm thinking with God (he never repeats what I say to anyone). After I've explained everything that I'm feeling I'm able to formulate specific questions about what is going on. Most of the time I already have the answers. Once I boil down my issues to a specific question, I know how to begin my search for answers. Most of the time all I need from God is the peace to keep going. And that He has in abundance.

They know me too well

2012-01-25T20:53:00.000-07:00

The house was so clean when the boys came home from school that they noticed.

Boy 1: "Wow! Mom! The house is so clean!"

Boy 2: "Wow, yeah. We better check the garbage."

Just because I throw away garbage - or things that look like garbage - or things that are annoying - or in my way.

Overheard

2012-01-19T21:38:00.002-07:00

Boy 2: "Hey! Guess what? I'm smarter than Emily and Amelia in my class."

Boy 1: "I know. That is what is great about girls."

"But she LIKES it."

2012-01-18T09:42:00.000-07:00

I tell my kids all the time that just because the baby is smiling does not mean they should be carrying her around by her neck/pulling her around by her ankles/ rolling her down the stairs; they need to be careful with the baby. But apparently, I'm a bad example.

This is the baby in a five gallon bucket, playing with my cell phone. I didn't actually mean for the

"warning: keep children away" sign to be in the picture - but I think that makes it better.

But hey, I got the floor mopped.

How to Potty Train your Toddler in One Day

2012-01-16T21:16:00.001-07:00

BAAA HA HA HAHAHAHAHA!

Oh, I'm sorry. Did you think I was serious?

This post may sound a bit like advice. And I love to give advice, but I try not to unless someone asks - so that I don't sound like a know-it-all, which I totally AM, but that is beside the point.

I started writing this post in my head a couple of months ago when I started potty training our third child. I kind of thought I was an expert on this stuff - I mean, I've personally potty trained two and a half children. Plus, many, many years ago - when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I didn't have stretch marks - I worked in the two-year-old classroom at a day-care center. The three-year-old room didn't have diaper changing facilities, so the kids had to be potty trained by their third birthday (no pressure). I was assistant potty-training up to 14 kids at a time.

When Lil' Girl was ready to start her adventure, I figured it would be no big deal. Yawn, I've seen it all before, I'm way too experienced to be frazzled by any of this anymore.

HA!

So this is my list of reminders to myself about some of the tricks I've re-learned. I figured they might be helpful to someone else as well.

Know that you are in for the long haul. A lot of books will tell you that you can train your child in one day, or that your child can be trained at six-months-old. That is impossible. You can transition from diapers to underwear in one day - but to me, that isn't the same thing. To me, a child is not potty trained until she is completely potty trained. In other words, I don't have to deal with her crap anymore. (I get that as a mom, dealing with kid's crap is kind of my job, but at least it doesn't have to be figurative AND literal.) So if I still have to go with her to help with the arranging of clothes or wiping or even turning on the water to wash hands, we aren't done.

Don't be too quick to buy and use underwear. This is actually one of the last steps. A lot of "experts" (the ones who are sponsored by children's underwear companies) will tell you to buy cute underwear with your child's favorite character on it to get her excited about the whole process, and then hope that she will feel so bad about soiling them. I think this is a bad idea for a couple of reasons. It's expensive and you're going to need a ton to start out with, and you don't want your kid to feel bad about accidents. They're accidents. Buy a huge package of generic underwear to start with. If your child is really resisting, consider upgrading to the fairy/princess/robot/superhero kind. I goofed on this one this time. Lil' Girl loved her new underwear so much she sneaked out of her bed at naptime and put every single pair of underwear she owned in bed with her. Then she fell asleep and wet the bed. And had to wear a diaper while I did laundry. MOMMY FAIL.

The potty chair. I'm not a fan. Mostly because I don't need ANOTHER toilet to clean. If possible, teach your kid to use the facilities he will be using for the rest of his life. This is also good because when you are traveling, the less stuff you have to cart around the better. Again, I didn't do it that way this time. Because Lil' Girl is smaller and younger than her brothers were when they started, and it is hard to relax enough to "go" if you are about to fall "in." So they can be useful. But you may not want to fork out the money for one until you are sure you need it. Also, the simpler, the better, because you are going to have to clean the whole thing.

The words. You better get comfortable using potty words casually and sometimes in public. Your child needs words for all of the body parts involved, the equipment used and the results produced. Please teach your child real words, not made up ones. If you don't, kids like mine come home from school no longer wanting to say penis, because the words his friends use are much funnier. (Thanks a lot.) If you must use euphemisms please keep a couple of things in mind:

I will make fun of you in my head for not being able to say vagina.
Now is not the time to get creative. Maker sure that your made-up words are at least standard issue. Eventually she may have to ask the babysitter or her best friend's mom where the bathroom is. It is best if other people actually understand what your child is trying to say.
Also, be aware that the words have power. We need words to express ourselves, even if only to ourselves. Please, please, please don't make your child feel ashamed or inferior about things that are a natural process in life.

Know the other concepts your child has to learn. Learning to use the toilet is actually a fairly complicated process. It is more than just paying attention to your body. Your kid needs to know words and concepts for before, during and after; up and down; opened and closed; front and back. She has to be able to do buttons and snaps (or only wear things with elastic waists) push a stepstool around or find her potty chair.

Buy Clorox Wipes!

Rewards. Again, not a fan. The whole point is to be able to phase these out, so the sticker/candy/toy can't be the only reason your child will use the bathroom. Also, they just didn't work for my kids - except when it made the non-potty-training children jealous, which created a whole new set of issues.

Consider your child's personality. Not everything works for every child, so go ahead and read whichever gook you want to, and then be prepared to modify everything

Woe is me

2012-01-14T21:43:00.001-07:00

I'm 17 weeks into my sixth pregnancy and my jeans are getting tight.

Some people just don't understand my pain.

The birds and the bees and the . . . um. . chickens

2012-01-07T21:55:00.000-07:00

My oldest is seven, and we haven't had "The Talk" yet. Every parenting book and bit of advice I've heard says you should wait until the child has questions, and then answer them honestly and simply - making sure you only give as many details as the child is ready to hear. So it shouldn't be one big talk but several conversations over the years as your child gets more mature and is ready for more information.

I've been anticipating his questions for a while now, trying to be prepared, trying to get comfortable with the idea of discussing intimate things with this being who is a product of my own intimacy. I'm actually surprised it has taken this long.

See, we have a very inquisitive seven-year-old. And I've been pregnant most of his life. So he knows all kinds of things you might not expect him to. He can tell you that it takes a cell from a mommy and a daddy and that a baby grows in a woman's womb. He knows how the baby gets out and how it eats. He can even draw you a diagram and explain why even though I have brown eyes and John has blue eyes only one in four of our children have brown eyes - also, why fifty percent of our children are male and fifty percent are female. (We are statistically predictable) But somehow we have never gotten to how the cells get together in the first place.

Well, we hadn't.

So his teacher thinks it would be a good idea if the kids in her class could think, and not just repeat facts to her (I don't know where she gets these crazy ideas). And so she has been sending home short stories for the children to read with a parent and think of questions and then share during a class discussion. The most recent story was about chickens. The farmer gathers the eggs and sells them at the market. One day a black hen shows up that lays a black egg (magic is afoot). While the farmer is deciding if she should take the egg and sell it or leave the egg and see what hatches we pause to think of questions.

Him: "Well, I have a question."

Me: "OK."

Him: "If the egg is already in the shell when the hen lays it, how does a cell from the rooster get inside the egg?"

Me: "Well, that happens inside the hen's body, when the egg is being made."

Him: "How does a cell from a rooster get inside a hen's body?"

OK, I think to myself, I guess we are doing this here and now. But I'm stumped. I want to be all clear and calm and matter of fact, but I have no knowledge of the mating habits of chickens. I mean - I can guess - it can't be that complicated - but I don't even know the words - does a cock have a cock? (Yes, underneath all this sophisticated veneer, I'm actually thirteen years old and laughing at all the inappropriate places.)

So I tell him I'm not sure what the words are for chickens. He assures me that the people words will do just fine. I give him a two sentence sex talk. He nods and we go back to the story. It was a magic egg, a little elf thing hatches out.

I'm kind of blown away. That was IT? I've been waiting for this question for years, and we discuss it over chickens and he doesn't even blink? I wanted to call him back and tell him all of the other things, like please don't bring this up to the next door neighbor in church, and you know you can always come to me with questions, blah, blah, blah.

And then I realize, this is exactly how it is supposed to work. Information in bite size pieces that fit in with your everyday life. This was sex talk number 1 out of 7,549; nothing to get all worked up about. Kind of like sex itself. Just another part of life that you talk about when it is appropriate and go back to magic chickens when its not.

quotes

2012-01-06T22:07:00.000-07:00

I love listening to my kids talk. It is like getting tiny glimpses into how they think, and I love how they think.

It is so cute how they can be so logical and still wrong. And I'm sure Heavenly Father thinks this about me all. the. time.

A few quotes from my sweet two-year-old:

As she is helping me do the dishes
Her: "What is this?"
Me: "Its a cup."
Her: "What is this?"
Me: "Its a baby spoon."
Her: "A baby spoon? Oh! Its SOOOO cute! What's it's name?"
Me: "Its a spoon. It doesn't have a name."
Her: "Yes it does. See?"
Turns out the spoon did have words on it, so it does have a name.

After I tried on a new dress and then changed back into my regular clothes
Her: "Mom! Where is your beautiful dress?"
Me: "I took it off."
Her: "But you are supposed to WEAR it!"
Me: "Why?"
Her: "Because its MONDAY!" (The"duh" was implied.)

Pretending to cook
Her: "I am making dinner. . . . it is called, yucky food. . . .Want a bite?"

I'm pretty certain that our house is going to sound just like this in a few years. (minus the British accents)

Like I needed another reason to hate the grocery store

2011-12-28T21:14:00.000-07:00

My cousin sent me this picture and I LOVE it. I also love her because she is amazing and wonderful and a whole lot cooler than me - plus she has better clothes. She blogs here. Thanks, Audri.

With the boys both in school all day I can usually go grocery shopping with only two children in tow. And I feel all light and breezy because I ONLY have two kids. (I bet you didn't realize that was a luxury did you?) And yet. . . This nice older woman blocking the toothpaste isle asked me if there was a sale on babies. . . you know, because I have so many. . . *sigh*

I kind of felt like saying something about the THREE other children she didn't know about. I'm not 'showing' yet, (unless you are my little sister - who says I'm getting fat; however she is 18 and allowed to have a warped view of what skinny actually is.) Really? What is the nice answer to that? "Please move away from the toothpaste - there is a sale on that too, and you already know so much about me that you know how I am about SALES."

And now that school is out for winter break, I had to take all the children with me to the grocery store. I know it looks like a lot, because the baby prefers to be carried, so I usually have her in the sling, then one kid is in the front of the cart and the other two hold on to either side. They are (mostly) well behaved and not causing a lot of havoc, but we can't discreetly sneak past anyone in an isle either.

. . . .And of course, an nice older couple stopped to admire Baby-Blue-Eyes and then looked at the rest of my entourage. "I just can't decide what you have more of, kids or groceries."

I have more than four gallons of milk on the average grocery trip! Don't tell me it is that hard.

I'm just going to pretend that nice older people are really bad at math and being nice.

* * * * *

So I tried to find another graphic to go with this post - but the only pictures of kids in a grocery store that I could find had one or two kids - three at the most. The only pictures of people shopping with more than three kids were Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. Which is totally what I look like when I go out shopping with my kids, so I didn't want anyone to get confused.

But I found this instead. Enjoy.

p.s. I love that the adds that pop up when you watch this commercial are tips for a happy marriage.

Ummmm. . . Thank you?

2011-12-25T21:36:00.000-07:00

Christmas letter from my 7-year-old:

Dear Mommy and Daddy,
You are the best at everything.
I hope you get what you want for Christmas.
My favorite thing about you is that you change your minds so much.
I also like that you forget that you changed your mind.
Love, Ian

Merry Christmas!

What happens while I make dinner

2011-12-16T20:58:00.003-07:00

She comes to me while I'm making dinner: "Mommy?" and her eyes are full of tears, "He won't let me hold his hand."

Audible sigh from the other room. "I'm working."

Me: "Honey, his hands are busy right now. Maybe you could stand quietly by him and put your hand on his shoulder."

Then her eyes lit up and she giggled this maniacal, evil little laugh and I got to see this:

Another long-suffering sigh from the boy. "Mo-o-om!"

Me: "Hang on a second. I just have to get a picture.. . . .Ok, I got it.. . . Lil' why don't you come in the kitchen with me and leave your brother alone?"

Her: "Ok!"

* * * * *

Scene: Coloring pictures and doing homework at the kitchen table. Lil' girl is coloring her now-favorite princess, Cinderella.

Boy 2: "Cinderella is EVIL."
Girl 1: "Cinderella is NOT evil."
Boy 2: "Cinderella is Eeevil."
Girl 1: "No! Cinderella is not evil. She is a beautiful princess!"
Boy 2: "Cinderella is EVIL."
Girl 1: "No!"
Boy 2: "Cinderella is evil. Hunh?"

Boy 1: "No. . . see, Cinderella can't be evil because she's Cinderella."
Boy 2: "But she wants to be evil. Right?"
Boy 1: "Exactly. She would be evil but she's Cinderella."
Boy 2: "Right. She wants to be evil."
Boy 1: "Right, Mom? Right? Cinderella wants to be evil, she just can't"
Me: *Sigh*

This one is for Jennie

2011-12-06T11:25:00.001-07:00

(So Jennie, remember how we were going to try and come hear your choir sing with the kids this Christmas? We might not bring all the children.)

I turned on some Christmas music while cleaning up.

My two-year-old in her best angry voice:

"I don't like the people! Those people who sing in their. . . happy clothes.
NO happy Christmas! I don't like the people who sing."

The Dark Side

2011-12-04T20:27:00.000-07:00

I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with parenting books. I love knowing about what is going on with my kids developmentally and getting ideas of different things to try. But I hate how preachy some of them get and how guilt inducing they can be. Sometimes I think the underlying message is: "Do everything exactly the way we say or your child will turn into a psychotic killer - or a pole dancer - or a democrat."

And I've read a lot of those books. (I'll send you a list if you're interested in my lit. review.) But, there are a few things that no parenting manual covers. The underside of parenting, if you will. Having children is the most amazing, wonderful, rewarding thing I've ever done. I love my children more than words can express. And they bring me such joy. I love to just sit and watch them play - it is awesome. But they also really piss me off sometimes.

I mean I sometimes get really, really angry. As a rule, I'm not an angry person. It is actually very difficult to make me angry enough to even say "piss off." But it happens. And it happens with my children more than anything else.

The thing is, I'm so invested in them. It is hard to step back and not take their misbehavior personally - especially because sometimes they mean it personally. They are MY kids. They know exactly which buttons to push and when, they know every little pet peeve and how to just nudge it. Hey look, Mommy's eye is twitching again!

And even more obnoxious, they are like me. Those annoying habits I've been trying for years to hide, they flaunt. They are stubborn in the ways that I am stubborn, they react badly to the same things I react badly to. Partly genetic, partly learned, all difficult.

And I wish that more "What to expect.. . " books covered this. Because it is okay.

It is normal.

There is nothing wrong with feeling very angry with your children. It does not make you a bad person or a bad parent. You are not failing because you are feeling something negative.

The trick with parenting - and life - is not how you feel. It is how you ACT on how you feel. Finding a way to release, control, respond to your feelings that is healthy.

And it won't always work, and you will find that you have reacted to a situation in a way that makes it worse. What to do then? Well, I have a lot of experience with this, I apologize. I tell my children what I did wrong and why it was wrong and ask them to forgive me. It is hard for me to not do this in an underhanded way: "I'm sorry I yelled, but if you would just stop . . .!"

As a parent, my job is to model responsible adult behavior. Responsible adults recognize their mistakes. They don't blame others or make excuses. And then they move on and try to do better. It will take them a long time to learn this. It is STILL taking me a long time to learn this.

And that is okay too.

Skilz

2011-11-25T19:34:00.001-07:00

Mim's new tricks: walking, clapping and running into things.

Superhero-ninja-princess

2011-11-25T19:33:00.001-07:00

Can't fault the logic

2011-11-25T19:26:00.001-07:00

Lil' girl likes to review the rules. This conversation took place as I was getting her out of the bath.

Her: "We do NOT hit. Hitting is NOT nice."

Me: "That's right."

Her: "And swords. Only other swords. Not people. Swords only hit other swords, NOT people."

Me: "Yes."

Her: "It's not nice to hit people with swords."

Me: "Yes."

Her: "But brothers, brothers we can. Brothers are not people."

Seven

2011-11-20T21:07:00.001-07:00

I'm planning another, longer post about the delight that is having a very active seven-year-old running around our house.

But for now, here are some pictures that seem to embody the essence of this child right now.

He lost his two front teeth, cut his own hair, and wrapped bubble gum around his neck. (Not all in the same day.)

Monkey see, monkey do

2011-11-20T20:57:00.001-07:00

Pillow Talk

2011-11-19T14:28:00.000-07:00

Our day ended as it always does. Prayer, cuddle, kiss. . .

Me: "I love you."
Him: "I love you, too. You should really go to sleep now."
Me: "Yeah. . . . I will."
Him: "You know the only good thing about you being sick? The only, ONLY good thing? YOU LISTEN."

Him being him: "You should go to bed now."
Him being me: "Bed - schmead."

Him being him: "You should eat some meat today."
Him being me: "Your mom eats meat."

Me (trying to talk around the giggles): "Just what you always wanted. An obedient wife."
Him: "Yeah, right."

See, I have this problem. The minute someone tells me to do something, I want to do just the opposite. It is so automatic, I usually can't even help it. This is one reason I enjoy religion. Obedience requires a discipline that does not come naturally to me, but I find joy in training myself to do what I know is right, even if someone else told me first.

And for all you rabid-anti-man-feminists out there (as opposed to normal feminists) who are all thinking "How dare he tell you what to do? Don't you let a man control you!" I say: "Amen, sister! How dare h. . . . oh, wait." So remember a couple of months back when I went on this self-improvement kick and said things to him like, "I really think everyone would be happier if I were getting more sleep. . . but I have such a hard time remembering what time it is. . . could you remind me when it is time to go to bed?" and "Wow. I feel so good when I'm eating enough protein, but it just never occurs to me. Will you help me?"

So yeah, even when I ask for help, I won't take it. Maybe there is a silver lining to me not having enough energy for my attitude.

They're playing our song

2011-11-17T21:00:00.000-07:00

Several years ago, as my dear husband and I were preparing for our impending nuptials I realized that we didn't have a song. So I went through my collection of CD's (remember those?) and found three or four songs that I thought reminded me of US. I tried to get my then-fiance to pick one with me. His response? "They are all so. . . cheesy." Honey, that is what romance IS.

But we couldn't find one that fit, so we were married without "our song." And what do you know, apparently the sound track is not what makes a happy marriage.

But here we are, coming up on nine years and now we have TWO songs. Both of which are awesome and perfect for us.

Enjoy.

A conversation in my head - in quotes

2011-11-17T14:23:00.001-07:00

"What was God THINKING?!"
- Grace, Return to Me

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord."
- Isaiah 55:8

"Does the word 'DUH' mean anything to you?"
- Buffy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Again?!

2011-11-11T21:25:00.002-07:00

I've never really wanted to be someone else, as in take over their life and all that, but there are all kinds of people that I wish I was like.

Right now I'm wishing I was one of those women who waits until the last possible moment to announce that she is pregnant and then comes up with a creative, cute way to make the announcement.

But I'm not her. I am pregnant, though. Only a couple of months along, but the weeks and weeks of vomiting are kind of a dead giveaway. There are a couple of days in there where I don't even know what happened. I know that I managed to crawl downstairs while John got the boys ready for school. The girls are still alive, so they must have found something to eat. . . judging by the crumbs on the floor, I'd guess crackers.

Fortunately, I have a wonderful mother, mother-in-law and sisters and neighbors and I'm hoping that we're over the worst. At least, I'm keeping most of my food down most of the time and I'm usually functional for most of the day. Progress.

It is frustrating though, because I come from a long line of hearty, pioneer women who could plough a field, make soap, have a baby, make new shirts for the other 13 children, and then spend the rest of the day making dinner for neighbors, writing poetry and washing the laundry by hand. Obviously the apple has fallen FAR from the tree.

And the "morning" sickness is so unpredictable. I feel like I've become a worshiper in some ancient cult - trying to control volcanoes and monsoons by sacrifices and rituals. I had five bites of un-sweetened cereal and then took my medicine - I lay down for twenty minutes and then ate some applesauce - I did the rain dance around the fire on the fifth day after the full moon - sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. But I still cling to my systems and imagine that I can refine them until I get it just right. Otherwise I would have to admit that I have absolutely no control and my world will be devastated or not no matter what I try to do.

During the hours that I feel good, I'm really excited. We were planning a longer gap between the last baby and the next one (19 months apart!) but I love babies all the time and am looking forward to another of my husband's beautiful ~~spawn~~ offspring. Plus, I can't wait to meet this little person. Anyone so determined to join our family that they make it through two forms of birth control is going to be an adventure.

(I tell my husband that he has Chuck Norris sperm - you can't kill it, you can't stop it. He says I have electro-magnetic eggs that suck everything in. So we both like to blame each other. But we both know, it takes two to tango.)

How to make sure your mother thinks about you all day long.

2011-11-05T21:20:00.004-06:00

(For seven-year-olds)

As you walk out the door in the morning, call over your shoulder, "Oh Mom! There is a spider under the blue thing."

For added effect make sure this is on a day when Mom has been sick and the house is extra messy. Also, she will still be recovering and not able to actually clean the whole house.

Gaaaah! Do you know how many "blue things" are in this house? All day long I hardly dared move anything without a shoe in my hand. And I never did find it.

Thanks, son.

Typical

2011-10-30T20:43:00.004-06:00

It probably isn't very flattering to keep track of all the times my son gets in trouble at school, but I do. He's been in kindergarten for what, like six weeks now? He really is a good kid - sweet, lovable, friendly AND he informed me proudly the other day, has only had two official reprimands so far.

The reasons he got in trouble were just so HIM. They illustrate his personality perfectly.

#1 - Trying to impress a girl. "I was pretending to do a magic trick for Emily, but she wasn't at my table and couldn't hear me. I was saying "POOF!" But my teacher thought I was saying potty words."

#2 - Making fun of the way his teacher runs. "I wasn't really. I was just going like this. . ." what follows was a hilarious and scarily accurate demonstration.

When the lights go out

2011-10-16T20:21:00.004-06:00

I've learned that nothing good that ever comes out of a child's mouth after you send him to bed. NOTHING. Something about sitting quietly, probably for the first time all day, that reminds my children of all kinds of things they absolutely must tell mommy right away. But for some reason, it is never something I want to hear - and not just because this is the first second I've had alone all day and you are ruining it, kid!

Let me set the stage. It has been a long day. You have finally managed to find everyone pj's that they are willing to sleep in (NO! I don't want Mario tonight!) Teeth are brushed, prayers are said, stories are read. The lights are dim and it has been peaceful and quiet, going on three minutes now. This is a ploy. Under no circumstances should you believe that you are actually going to have any time to yourself. Do not relax. At exactly 3 minutes and 45 seconds after lights out one of your children will be screaming for you, because they have to tell you something very important. They will scream until you come to the doorway of their room and you will hear:

Most of the time it is routine: "I need a drink." "I'm not sleepy." ect. which I've come to expect and then there are the other ones:

Naturally, there are a lot of "I'm sick." and assorted bodily functions, which I'll spare you.

Of course, the previously posted: "There is a spider in my room."

"I forgot to tell you; last week I kicked a girl in my class in the mouth and made her tooth loose."

"I have to go to the bathroom, and I'm allergic to chalk."

"The baby is awake now."

"I hurt my neck. I DON'T want you to kiss it!"

"I'm afraid of the visions. Of green monsters."

"I need ______(something important and not found in your home) for school tomorrow."

"I peed in your bed."

2011-10-16T20:14:00.003-06:00

Kitchen Prayer

Lord of all pots and pans and things,

since I’ve not time to be a saint

by doing lovely things or watching late with thee

or dreaming in the dawn light

or storming heaven’s gates, make me a saint

by getting meals and washing up the plates.

Although I must have Martha’s hands,

I have a Mary mind and when I black the boots

and shoes, Thy sandals, Lord, I find.

I think of how they trod the earth,

what time I scrub the floor.

Accept this meditation Lord,

I haven’t time for more.

Warm all the kitchen with Thy love,

and light it with thy peace.

Forgive me all my worrying

and make my grumbling cease.

Thou who didst so love to give men food,

in room or by the sea, accept this service that I do,

I do it unto Thee

Klara Munkres

Its Apparent you're a Parent

2011-10-02T20:30:00.005-06:00

I put the boys to bed and am feeding the baby, hoping she will fall asleep.

Boy: "Mom there is a spider in our room."

So I grab the closest hard thing, which happens to be a crayon box, and come to the rescue - trying to keep the baby reclined so that she will stay relaxed. It takes a few tries before it stops trying to crawl away. All the while my son is yelling "That's MY crayon box!"

I go to the bathroom for tissue to pick up the spider and step in something wet and warm in front of the toilet. Without blinking, I wipe my foot on a towel - also on the floor - as I walk past.

I pick up the spider, my son says "Mom, put it in the toilet - but don't flush. I want to pee on it next time."

Me: "Fine"

I dispose of the spider and sit down to rock the baby again.

The other boy comes in: "Mom, I have to go to the bathroom, but JJ doesn't want me to flush. Can I go and NOT flush so that we can both pee on the spider?"

Me: "Fine."

Him from the bathroom: "I think it's still alive!"

Him, still from the bathroom: "Look! Another one!"

Me: "Take care of it."

Him: "Aaaaahhhh! I think it bit me."

Me, now in the bathroom with the baby on my hip. "Why did you try to pick it up with your hand?"

I grab some toilet paper and demonstrate the proper spider squishing/picking up technique and throw the spider in the toilet next to the other one. His hand shows no sign of a bite so I tell him to put his pants on, because for some reason, they had to come all the way off in order to aim properly at the spider.

He goes to bed and I sit down to rock the baby again.

His brother comes back in: "Mom, my tummy really hurts. I think I'm going to throw up."

Me: "Go pee on the spider, that might make you feel better."

Big Brother

2011-10-01T20:50:00.002-06:00

The biggest brother made a special note for his sister. She can't actually read it, but loved it anyway.

And so did I.

Complimenting my children (round 2)

2011-09-30T21:08:00.001-06:00

Since the last etiquette post, I've heard of quite a few more things you should not say to someone when complimenting their children. (Not all of these are mine, but they deserve repeating) So I'll just add to the list: (for round one, click here)

5 - She isn't for sale. Freak. How is it possible that you think this is an acceptable thing to joke about? "Gee, you know what is really funny? Child-trafficking. haha"

6- You know what else isn't funny? Any kind of reference to pedophilia. EVER. Seriously, dude, I'm about to call the cops.

7 - Again with the swearing. How is it that our society has degenerated to such a point that people don't even realize that the words they are using are offensive? (My friend totally called them on this one - I'm very proud of her.)

8 - I know my kid is cute and has one particularly noticeable feature. Could you please compliment something she has control over? Tell her she has a nice smile, or that she is good at helping mommy with the new baby. . . .she isn't color blind. She KNOWS what color her hair is. But you know what? She would be cute with or without it. Help me out here. Heaven knows she isn't going to get good messages on her self-worth out of magazines.

9 - I'M the mom. Me. Right here. The one with the boobstain. There is no rule that children have to look anything like their parents, biological or otherwise. Oh, you just thought I looked too young to have this many kids these ages? Yes, lady. I am a sixteen-year-old hooker who can't figure out how to use a condom. You are digging yourself into a deeper hole here, just stop.

10 - How hard is it to count to four? Must you point and mouth "one. . . two. . . "? Didn't your mother ever tell you it is rude to point?

11- My baby is going through an EXTREMELY clingy phase right now. Yes, this "phase" has lasted her whole life. That isn't the point. The point is, she isn't going to come to you. Not now, probably not ever. Especially if you insist on being loud and getting in her face. Also that line: "What's the matter? It isn't like I'm going to KILL you!" While staring into my baby's eyes? I wouldn't hand her to you now even if she wanted you. No wonder she is screaming.

Did I miss any? Do you have any more awesome stories about people and their misguided attempts to be nice? I'd love to hear them.

In the morning

2011-09-30T20:23:00.002-06:00

About to walk out the door. . . .

Mommy with as many hair bows as possible....

So glad he really doesn't understand

2011-09-25T20:50:00.008-06:00

Service and sacrifice for others is a concept I feel very strongly about teaching my children. But it is also complicated, and I'm kind of at a loss about how to do it. I want them to realize how lucky they are.

So I was really excited when our church announced a big project they are doing next month. We will be collecting items and assembling welcome kits for battered women and children's shelters in the area.

Details here: http://wellsserves.bl ogspot.com/ Anyone is invited. COME HELP!

Especially needed are comfort items for the kids who have usually had to leave all their possessions behind. I was thinking the kids could help me put some quilts together and gather toys and games.

Especially if the quilts are made out of adorable fabric like this,

they will really brighten someone's day AND be a little hard for my kids to give up.

Of course, this means I have to explain to them why there are children in shelters who need our help.

First let me say this:

Dearest Husband, Thank you for being the best man I have ever known. Thank you for being so kind and gentle that my children have no concept of being afraid in their own home. That when they think of a bad guy, the only thing they can picture are cartoon characters. I love you more than words can say.

This afternoon I had the following conversation with my five-year-old.

Me: "Their homes weren't safe. So they had to go away with their mommies really fast."

Him: "Why weren't they safe?"

Me: "Sometimes there are bad people who want to hurt other people. They had to get away."

Him: "So they are hiding?"

Me: "Yes."

Him: "But when the bad guys leave they can go home."

Me: "No. The bad guys are people they know. People who won't go away."

Him: "But the bad guys have to go home sometime."

Me: "Sometimes the bad guy is the dad of the family. And he isn't nice to the mom and kids. And they can't go home."

Him: "Like animals? How the daddy tiger or bear would hurt the cubs?"

Me: "Yes. Exactly like animals."

Sinister Netflix plot uncovered

2011-09-21T13:10:00.004-06:00

I find it amusing that so many people are upset about Netflix raising their prices. Guess what? You don't have to pay them anything. You could turn off your computer or TV and read a book, go for a walk, hey, maybe talk to those people who live in your house! Did you know you're related? Instant media gratification isn't a right, but apparently whining about how you have to pay a few bucks a month more is.

But we have decided to stop getting the DVDs mailed to our house. We don't watch them very quickly anyway. Husband and I are not very careful about arranging our queue. So when he has a minute, he puts five or six movies he wanted to see and then I put on a handful of my own. What I find ironic is that we made this decision the day after watching the last in a string of his blow-things-up movies. So we'll cancel our subscription before we get to watch Phantom of the Opera, Cats, and the six-hour-long BBC Pride and Prejudice.

Can't be a coincidence.

Cloning

2011-09-21T13:09:00.002-06:00

It is always kind of freaky to hear my kids repeat my exact words and my exact tone of voice. Do I really sound like that? On the other hand, at least I know they are listening sometimes - even if it isn't always at my best moments.

It is especially startling to hear my daughter do it. She just sounds so much like me.

The kids were doing homework while I was making dinner. Five-year-old asked for a drink, and then asked again and again when I didn't stop what I was doing to give it to him. Lil' girl puts down her crayons, leans across the table to get right in his face and says: "Did you hear mommy? She said just. a. minute. You need to wait!"

And then there was here endless jabbering to Daddy while he was putting on his shoes to go to work. "Daddy. . . .Daddy. . . .DADDY! I'm asking you a question!"

She wanders around the house with her baby doll on her hip and toy phone stuck to her ear. All I can think is: "Oh look. It's me."

And then she comes up with some stuff completely out of nowhere. Flipping through the pages of a book while I change her sister's diaper. . . "Mommy, you know what butterflies have? Know what kind of heads? Eeeevil heads. Butterflies have eeeevil heads. And wings. Butterflies have eeevil wings. Eeevil heads and eeeevil wings."

Clever Girl

2011-09-11T21:40:00.008-06:00

(At our house this isn't a compliment. It is an ominous, foreshadowing statement, implying someone's impending doom. Mine.)

It seems to be a perfect storm. Maybe my girls are especially clever, maybe it is because they are girls, maybe I'm paying less attention to every single developmental milestone, maybe I'm getting better at understanding what babies want, maybe I'm just a better parent (yeah, that's likely) but somehow I find myself surprised/frightened by how quickly my two girls are communicating and learning.

No, seriously. I'm kind of freaking out here.

They started out so cute. And we were all excited about what we created.

Now, they are taking over.

The baby can get the plastic baby-proof covers off the electrical sockets. I've taped them, but it won't be long until she gets that off too. Nine months old and she has mastered duct tape, one of mankind's greatest inventions.

The two-year-old recently got out my nook, turned it on, got on the Barnes and Noble store website and was at the confirmation stage of buying a Dora book. All in the time it took me to go to the bathroom (and I'm getting to be a ninja of quickness at that, ya'll).

It isn't that I don't want my kids to be smart. And probably the boys were this way as well but I'm blocking the details of that time of my life out of my memory as part of my PTC disorder (Post Traumatic Childrearing).

It is just so demoralizing to be outsmarted by a two-year-old on a daily basis. Mommy isn't winning.

I do try and hide from them on occasion.

But they know how to open doors.

Food Critic

2011-08-30T12:46:00.002-06:00

My oldest, explaining to his aunt and uncle why he is hungry at bed time and deserves a snack.

"Sometimes when we have dinner, it isn't enough food, and sometimes it is just gross."

Of course, he has always been difficult to please.

birth control

2011-08-26T20:50:00.005-06:00

(Sorry, Sis. It was hilarious)

My brother-in-law and his wife graciously agreed to watch the children for us this week, since John and I had conflicting church assignments.

The baby is VERY attached to being constantly held by me, boy 1 was anticipating school starting the next day, boy 2 was running a fever and has developed a fear of monsters, and lil' girl, well, she's two. It happens.

When I returned home it was to find both of them a little wide eyed and ready to run out the door. "We decided we don't want kids now." They told me.

"You're welcome." I said.

"No, really." they said. "The kids were really hard. They fought with each other and cried because they were hungry and made the baby cry even more."

I tried to be sympathetic, I think the snickers kind of ruined it though.

Welcome to my world. The difference is no-one is going to come and rescue me. I keep waiting for that responsible adult to show up and take over. It hasn't happened yet.

Why I don't wear my engagement ring anymore

2011-08-23T20:29:00.001-06:00

My day by things I wiped with a cloth or rag of some kind. In chronological order:

tears, milk, cereal, diaper waste, hands, diaper waste, hands, nose, cupboard, table, floor, chair, cupboard, hands, sink, toilet, hands, face, stomach, legs, blood, face, blood, sink, tears, nose, milk, cupboard, peanut butter, juice, milk, table, rice, spider guts, stove, hands, face, arms, legs, feet, floor, diaper waste, hands, nose, milk, book, diaper waste, hands, (12:00pm) cereal, crackers, milk, spider guts, floor, cupboard, cupboard doors, baseboard, bench, chairs, table, dishes, diaper waste, hands, diaper waste, hands, nose, tears, grass, sand, hands, tears. . . . .

It isn't complete, because honestly, around 2:00 I started loosing track.

In the first half of the week (after I do laundry) I wonder why I have so many towels in the kitchen that I can't even shut the drawer, and the last half of the week I spend looking for something to wipe my hands on. Half the time it is someone's sock that they left on the floor. Ew, but dry.

The return of Ms. Mommy Manners

2011-08-11T20:52:00.008-06:00

My kids are adorable - amazingly beautiful - wonderful - awesome - super cute. I'm biased, I know. I really couldn't care less if you agree with me or not. But if you feel the need to tell me about my children's looks, please don't be an idiot about it.

My girls have these really bright blue eyes (it is genetic, but not from me) plus, they like to stare at people. Lately it seems like I can't go anywhere without someone commenting on how cute they are. Thanks, all you random folks. I'm glad they brightened your day. But you are kind of weirding me out now.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who gets these odd comments, so I'd like to say here, for the record, there is a right way and a wrong way to compliment someone's children. Following are some tips, provided perfectly free - as a public service. (You're welcome)

1) I'm glad you think my kid is adorable, but you know what? Mentioning to me how much you want to kidnap her? Not a compliment. In fact, it's creepy. I don't care who you are DO NOT JOKE ABOUT THINGS LIKE THAT. It isn't funny, and it isn't sweet. Please, if you want me to speak to you again, do not talk about abduction and my child in the same sentence. EVER.

2) Swear words. So the cuteness took you by surprise? That's nice. Do you realize what word you just said in front of my two-year-old? Do you know what a two-year-old is? A tape recorder with pig-tails. Pus, now she thinks it is a GOOD thing. Thanks for that.

3) Comparing. Children are small, not stupid. When you tell me right in front of them that you think this one is cuter than that one it is just going to piss me off. Not to mention making them feel bad. I am the only one who is allowed to land my child in therapy thankyouverymuch. Now, please back away.

4) Me. Just don't say anything about my appearance. Do you think I don't know that my hair is a mess, I have no makeup on and there is a stain on my shirt right over my boob? I KNOW. I have a mirror, what I don't have is any time to myself. "You must be tired/busy/have your hands full" all seem like shorthand for: "You look like crap." Thank you, almighty-captain-of-the-obvious. Unless you are offering to watch my kids while I shower and change (and do the laundry so that I actually have a clean shirt to put on) keep your mouth shut.

Bottom line: When giving compliments to anyone it is better to stick to the basics. Any standard deviation of "nice-looking" will do just fine. Trying to be creative just gets everyone in trouble.

self-saving princess

2011-07-31T21:40:00.002-06:00

She likes to have her hair done and wear feather boas and fancy shoes.

She loves kisses and hugs and being told she is BEE-utiful.

She is not afraid of anything and can out-eat her older brothers.

This, my friends, is what little girls are made of.

Also, she did this several times with no prompting from anyone.

Our Worst Critics Choose To Stay

2011-07-07T13:28:00.006-06:00

United States of America in six words

I love the fourth of July. Usually, we go to the semi-small town where my parents and in-facts live. I love it all, the salt water taffy thrown by five-year-olds from their dance class float, the water balloons and water guns, hot dogs and potato salad, glow sticks and fire works. I love to watch how proudly the veterans stand in their uniforms as the flag goes by. I want to cheer and yell and scream for them, but I always start to cry instead.

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn wrote a series of books called "The Gulag Archipelago" about the prison camps in Russia under Josef Stalin. Stalin had more people killed than Hitler (at least 10 million more) but you don't hear about him as much. Solzhenitsyn was a writer, arrested and tortured and sentenced to years in the gulag for no reason he ever knew - perhaps some letters he wrote. He spent his time collecting stories from his fellow inmates and later published them. Many stories were similar, and I read the section on Arrest on the subway home from work one day while I lived in Washington D.C.

Most who were arrested had no idea why:

Since you aren't guilty, then how can they arrest you? It's a mistake! They are already dragging you along by the collar, and you keep exclaiming to youself: "It's a mistake! They'll set things straight and let me out!". . . . Why, then, should you run away? . . After all, you'll only make your situation worse; you'll make it more difficult for them to sort out the mistake. And it isn't just that you don't put up any resistance; you even walk down the stairs on tiptoe, as you are ordered to do, so your neighbors won't hear.

And how we burned in the camps later, thinking: What would things have been like if every Security operative, when he went out at night to make an arrest, had been uncertain whether he would return alive and had to say goodbye to his family? Or if, during periods of mass arrests, as for example in Leningrad, when they arrested a quarter of the entire city, people had not simply sat there, . . . but had understood they had nothing left to lose and had boldly set up in the downstairs hall an ambush of half a dozen people with axes, hammers, pokers or whatever else was at hand?

Yes, resistance should have begun right there, at the moment of the arrest itself.

But it did not begin.

And the most haunting words I've ever read: "We didn't love freedom enough."

I looked up and around the crowded train station under our nation's capitol and I wondered what would happen if two police officers suddenly came up behind. . . .that guy right there.

I looked around at the crowd of tired civil servants and government contractors and students believed that under most circumstances we would protect each other. People have to be taught to be submissive and we Americans are definitely not.

This country is far from perfect, but I still love it.

two teeth and crawling

2011-07-06T13:24:00.000-06:00

"We cannot call back time that is past, we cannot stop time that now is, and we cannot experience the future in our present state. Time is a gift, a treasure not to be put aside for the future but to be used wisely in the present."

- Thomas S. Monson, Prophet - The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints

the word no does not fully communicate the no-ness of my answer

2011-06-20T22:21:00.002-06:00

We got an invitation to a NICU reunion this week.

Now I'm sure that people who spent a long time there, who made friends with the nurses, whose kids actually needed to be there may want to go to that sort of function. I will not be attending.

Just thinking about it gave me flashbacks. Not the good kind.

I didn't mean to be rude about the NICU nurses in my last post (sorry, Jimmy). I'm sure some of them are very nice people. But it was such an awful situation. My kid was sick, I was in pain, and the nurses weren't there to take care of me, they were there to take care of my baby. The thing is - that was/is MY job. So naturally there was some um. . . awkwardness.

Here is one of my most potent memories:

One of the few times I was able to just hold her and be left alone, I looked around the ward. There were several "stations" around the room with wires and outlets, just waiting for a machine that goes "bing" and a baby to be wheeled over in a little Tupperware bin. (Oh, they call those bassinets? They make my baby look like leftovers). The ward could be re-arranged to accommodate more babies if the need arose. Pushed over to the side was a little baby bouncy seat. Jungle animals and bright flowers completely out of place in the sterile room. I never saw anyone use it. It occurred to me to wonder why it was there in the first place. Then I noticed a small plaque on the top. It said "In loving memory of - - - - - - -. (Insert beautiful baby's name that some girl picked out when she was fifteen and has been secretly planning for ever since).

It was at that moment that I realized that babies had died in this room. And I had a mini meltdown. Babies DIED here. Most of the clothes and "extras" sitting around the ward were donated by parents who couldn't stand to go home to all those shower gifts and an empty nursery. The heartbreak behind four little words and a baby swing were overwhelming. And then I realized that MY baby was in this room. And I wanted to grab her and run. My child doesn't belong here! I thought. Babies die here! WHY would you put my baby in a room where babies die? And I had to tuck her into her stay-fresh-dishwasher-safe bed and walk away.

So, no. I will not be attending a reunion. Though I am grateful for a healthy, happy baby. Please forgive me if I stay as far away as possible.

And snuggle this instead.

Dedicated to the one I love

2011-06-19T18:49:00.002-06:00

This is my husband and he rocks.

I've been working on this post for weeks, and I just can't seem to get it right. There are no words for how wonderful this man is.

So I'm settling for a Jane Austin quote, "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more."

Plus some pictures of him with his favorite job title: DADDY

He "fathers" all the kids who come our way - teaching sword fighting - making up zombie tag - also slipping in morality lessons along the way. He explained to them how to play fair, how not to hurt others while still being energetic (a big issue around here). And they all ran around for HOURS allowing me a much needed rest (with only two children to take care of).

Fortune Cookie

2011-06-10T19:41:00.003-06:00

We ordered Chinese food the other night and this, of course, means that I get to eat all the fortune cookies.

John and JJ can't eat them and it wouldn't be polite for the rest of us to eat in front of them - so I have to eat them all after everyone else leaves the kitchen. Sigh, just one of the many duties we mommies have to bear.

The first fortune said:

People will be attracted to your insight and wisdom.

Husband snickered. I said, "Were you attracted to my insight and wisdom?"

He said, "I was attracted to your hot body and sparkling conversation."

I said, "Sparkling?"

He said, "Yeah. It is like champagne - with a shot of Russian-jet-fuel-vodka. It is bubbly and smooth until you think about it and then you realize you just got burned. On the inside."

And the next fortune said: Flattery will go far tonight.

I taped it to the front door for him to see when he walks in the house.

Family Photos

2011-06-05T22:25:00.003-06:00

I think I've mentioned before that it is incredibly difficult to get a picture of all the children.

I finally decided to pay someone else to do it. There was drama and it was terrible. So we had to leave and not get any pictures. I was about as angry as I ever get with my children. The only thing saving me from freaking out and screaming at them was the fear that then they would hold still for a second and we would get a mediocre picture and I would feel guilty and buy it and then stare at a picture on my wall of what my kids' faces look like when mommy looses her mind at them. For five years until I get up the guts to try again. That and my mother was with me (your grandchildren are very grateful.)

Fortunately, we just walked away. And made another appointment a couple of weeks later. When Daddy was with us - also candy for bribing purposes.

And I think they turned out pretty well.

Dear World,

2011-05-23T19:18:00.006-06:00

As you may be aware, the rapture, as scheduled for this past Saturday in the Old Testament, did not occur. Many of you are under the impression that this is due to a miscalculation on the part of certain members of your society. Please rest assured that this is not the case. The decision to postpone the rapture, was made by the higher-ups after viewing this product and several others like it:

Scantily clad, un-dead, teenage dolls based off the wildly popular "supernatural romance" genre aimed at six to eight-year-old girls? Honestly, people, what were you thinking? After careful consideration, the decision was made to wait until all who have breathed the same air as the purchasers of these dolls are dead, to avoid any kind of contamination. (Obviously, they will not be making it here.)

Another factor in the decision was that no engineers would have been worthy of the rapture had we proceeded on schedule. We are still using dial-up here and would greatly appreciate an upgrade to our heavenly network. Also, Saint Peter really, really wants an iPad. We are hoping that given more time to prepare, someone from Apple would be ready to join us. Or at least a decent hacker.

Please prepare carefully. We really mean it this time.

Regretfully yours,

Gladys

Senior Administrative Assistant to the Committee on Rapture

Church Comedy

2011-05-22T20:35:00.007-06:00

So part of my new calling/job at church is to oversee the Young Women's groups in eight different congregations (aka wards). Mostly we (myself and the two other women in the presidency) are there to provide support to the leaders in the local wards. Today we visited two wards and attended their youth classes.

Sunday School was hil-AIR-ious.

Background: Jesus goes to a publican's house for food and the people give him a hard time for hanging out with sinners. A publican was any Jewish person who collected taxes for the Roman empire. Luke 19:1-10

Teacher: "So, who can tell me what a 'publican' is?"

Girl: "Like, a Tea Party person?"

Teacher: "What?"

Girl: "You know. Like, not quite a RE-publican."

Teacher: "Oh right. The political party? RE-publican. . . publican. . . .I get it.

No. It was a tax collector."

Girl: "So. . .a Democrat?"

Obsessive. Compulsive. Behavior.

2011-05-14T21:30:00.004-06:00

It is only a disorder if you suffer from it.

The other day (OK so really, it was last month) I vacuumed my living room three times. In a row.

I have to say, I find vacuuming therapeutic. Not that I am able to do it as often as I'd like, but I really enjoy it. Especially when I'm having a bad day. And it was a bad day. Bad week actually.

I was babysitting my adorable and rowdy neighbor boys. Husband not around much, getting work done for the end of the semester. And it was the three year anniversary of my miscarriage. Basically it sucked.

Then, my oldest's teacher stopped me after school to talk over some concerns. (dun dun DUN) His work is fine, and he hasn't been in trouble, but she has noticed some behavior changes since the beginning of the year - mostly since the new baby. And she recommended that he meet with the school counselor.

My son's teacher thinks he should see a therapist. Great.

I was trying not to overreact, and was only mildly successful. I brought the kids home, gave them a snack and got out the vacuum.

You know who you can hear yelling at you while the vacuum is running? No one.

I already had the baby in the sling from the walk home from school, and she fell asleep as soon as she heard the noise. So I got to cuddle the one child who has been nice to me all day (she can't talk yet) and feel like I was being productive.

Of course I didn't want to stop. That is normal, right?

right?

(sound of crickets chirping)

p.s. Adrienne, have you tried this hold with your sling? You just hold the baby on your hip and then put the sling around both of you, rings on the opposite shoulder. I slid Mimi to the front and tightened it a little more after she had fallen asleep.

Jean Gray doesn't live here

2011-05-14T20:25:00.005-06:00

Nor do you want her to.

So Husband and I used to teach a Sunday School class called "Marriage and Family Relations." It was a lot of fun, and I'm sure we learned more than anyone else in the class.

The one bit of marriage advice that came up over and over was "Be Explicit." No-one in your house can read your mind. This is not a movie, and your spouse is not a mutant (no matter how strange he or she is.) So if you want something, or need something, or need someone to know something YOU HAVE TO SAY IT. Preferably with small words while your significant other is giving you undivided attention.

Needless to say, we are not always good at that ourselves. But the other day we were. I can't remember exactly what we were talking about, but Husband commented on it.

Him - "Good job being explicit, love."

Me - "Thanks. You know, we're getting better at that."

Him - "I know! It is so nice."

Me - "Just think, if we keep this up, someday we will understand each other every time we have a conversation."

Him - "Yeah, wouldn't that be great?"

And then he grabbed my breast as he walked by.

*Sigh*

I'm pretty sure that we will NEVER understand each other all the time.

* * * *

My dear husband, who is also my editor, needed some clarification for this post. "But why would you say that we will never understand each other?"

"The fact that you grab my breasts is incomprehensible to me. The fact that you did it right after having a conversation about understanding each other illustrates the fact that you will always do things that I can't understand."

He just stared at me for a minute.

p.s. I'm sure that I do all kinds of things that are incomprehensible to him as well.

That's what HE said

2011-05-06T21:18:00.004-06:00

Quotes from a four-year-old

The black cauldron in his hand? It was his easter basket.

* * * *

"Dora is DEAD!"

Wouldn't be so bad if his little sister hadn't been standing right by him. She laughed because he did and then asked me quietly, "Dora's sick?"

* * * *

"Mommy, my penis is growing faster than the rest of my body."

* * * *

While saying the prayer. . . "And please bless our food so that our bodies will grow small and weak."

too fast

2011-04-30T19:52:00.003-06:00

Lil' girl on her play phone: "Hi, Ma-Gah (Grandma, with the syllables backwards. They say dyslexia is genetic. . . .) How your day?. . . Good. . . . Okay. . . Bye!"

To me: "I call Ma-Gah."

To phone: "Hi Mommy. . . How your day?. . . Good. . . . Okay. . . Bye!"

To me: "I call Mommy."

To phone: "Hi Boy. . . .How your day? . . . Good. . . . Okay. . . Bye!"

To me: nothing

Me: "Umm, Lil, who did you just call?"

"A boy." She says over her shoulder as she walks out of the room.

* * * * *

A few days later,

"Mommy! Guess what? I sixteen!"

heaven help us all

Teaching me humility

2011-04-20T20:39:00.003-06:00

Me: "Let's go downstairs and switch the wash."

Her: "No. Lauuuundry." (Emphasis on the LAUN - as if I don't know the word.)

My daughter is correcting my word choice and she isn't even two yet.

Thank you very much.

Our week in pictures

2011-04-17T21:25:00.006-06:00

Face paint. . . .

Sleeping and trying to crawl. . .

Cut and dyed my hair. . . Cuddled the ear-infected child. . .

AND, he is allergic to. . . .something

The rest of his body looked even worse, if possible. Today his eyes are swollen and he still has hives on his legs and torso, but it seems to be going away.

NOTE: I have no idea what happened, only that it must have been something he ingested because his whole body was COVERED in hives. The only unusual thing he did was go to a friend's birthday party. But he went to the friend's house where I never have to worry about what they eat because everything is gluten free and organic and perfect (When I grow up I want to be like Olya). Maybe he is developing an allergy? Is that possible?

try, try again

2011-04-17T21:03:00.000-06:00

I admit it. I was really worried when my oldest started kindergarten last fall. I panicked. How could I prepare him for being at school ALL DAY? (note - I love all day kindergarten!) He is only five! What if he was bullied? What if he was the bully? What if the work is too hard for him and he quits trying? What if the work is too easy for him and he quits trying? How could I know what he needed in the short hours he was at home? Even though he was beyond ready for school and I felt at peace with our decision, it was still scary.

The thing that eased my mind was family prayer. Every morning we would gather at the door and kneel together. I felt such a calming in my mind and my heart. I knew we were doing the right thing. I knew that even though I couldn't be with him all day, God could. And God would know what to help him with and what to prepare him for. I can not even begin to describe the peace and sweetness of those moments, when we all bowed before our Maker and felt His blessing.

And it worked so well for the first several weeks.

Then it started to get colder, and we had to add getting mittens, hats and boots to our morning routine. Plus, I was getting more and more pregnant; short tempered, tired and sick. I tried to keep the devotional feel of our mornings, but it slipped. Do you have any idea how hard it is to feel the Holy Spirit right after yelling: "What are you doing!? Get your shoes on! Stop touching your sister! Why are your SHOES NOT ON?! NOW KNEEL DOWN We are going to PRAY! STOP TOUCHING YOUR SISTER! Dear Heavenly Father. . . "

The feeling I got in my mind on those mornings was more like Heavenly Father saying: "Yeah, right. Apologize to them before you even try to talk to Me."

So I would. I would tell my kids sorry and then pray and ask God to forgive me for using my angry voice and ask his help in being patient. Some mornings it felt like such a joke.

But we keep trying. And I feel that trying is the most important thing. Sure we fail, but it is worth failing sometimes because when it works it is amazing. Sometimes I fail at being a good Mom, but I'm not about to quit that either. So I guess I'm just saying, to myself and to you my faithful reader (Hi, Mom): KEEP ON KEEP'N ON

Making up new terms

2011-04-10T20:33:00.010-06:00

This post originally started out as an email to my father-in-law, but after talking to him a couple of weeks ago, I decided to make it public.

The other day my son asked why I called Grandpa Stevens "Dad." He knows that I didn't grow up in their house, so I tried to explain what being a father-in-law means, being a family "in the eyes of the law." And it occurred to me how cumbersome and inaccurate a distinction that is. At least in our case.

I think it would be more appropriate to call them my "in-practices." My mother and father-in-law treat me like I am their daughter. He isn't just my "father-in-law" he is my "father-in-practice." And I count my mother-in-law as one of my best friends - the relationship isn't described well enough as "mother-in-law" maybe "mother-in-spirit." That doesn't seem right either. . . . I need a new term to describe them.

So here are my in-facts. They are awesome.

Long before I got married I made a list of qualities I wanted in a husband; things I couldn't live without. It was almost a map of what I wanted my life to be like. I wasn't too specific, just things that were fundamentally important to me. After I met John, and before we started getting serious, I had to revise my list.

I loved the way I felt when I was with him, and I loved the way he treated me. I hadn't dated (too many) jerks, but he treated me better than anyone ever had. He acted like he was the luckiest guy in the world just being next to me. He never had to say it out loud, everything he did made me feel important. And this was before we were serious about each other. It got better.

I know that he got that from his father. John and his mom and his sister all told me on separate occasions about how his dad has always made sure that everyone around knows how much he loves his wife. I have noticed it myself. And I see my husband repeating it with me. I love my husband too much to even begin to describe how this makes me feel - words just don't cut it. Watching my husband and his father made me want to have boys, lots of boys just like him. I hope more than anything that they will learn to love this way, with obvious abandon.

So I would like to say thank you to my father-in-law.

Dear Dad,

Thank you for giving me the most amazing gift anyone has ever received - your son. He is the source of the greatest joy in my life. I didn't realize how wonderful life could be until I married John. No one ever told me that marriage could be so much fun. And he treats me so well. I don't know anyone except your wife whose husband is as thoughtful. He is perfect for me, and I can never repay you for raising him to be the man that he is.

Also, this is why his occasional faux pas are so funny to me. He could never in a million years deliberately insult me, and he has helped me to know this so deeply that I could never take offense. It is just not possible for him to mean to hurt me in any way. So much so that a few years back he was giving me a blessing, and he felt inspired to tell me something he didn't think I would like to hear. So we sat in silence for several minutes while he mentally argued with God about what he should say in the blessing. The man would argue with Deity to spare my feelings. I love him so much.

Thank you for sharing him with me. I hope that one day we can do the same for our sons' wives.

Love,

Lindsay

(your daughter-in-fact)

keep your wine and bubble bath - I've got girl scout cookies

2011-04-05T20:32:00.006-06:00

This year I bought a case of girl scout cookies, and I'm not sharing them with anyone.

I've invented a whole list of rules about eating them so that it feels like the ultimate luxury.

The cookies are stored above the cupboards, so that I have to push a chair over to reach them (also, it feels like I'm being sneaky).
No-one can touch me while I'm eating cookies.
I wait until the children are all in bed and the baby has been fed for the last time.
A glass of milk is mandatory.
I won't do anything productive while eating my cookies. This covers most of my evening activities like replying to emails, folding clothes and paying bills. I don't even want to have to click the mouse.
I only watch TV shows or movies that have nothing to do with children or my life, (eg: sci-fi or teen drama) unless you count having a snarky heroine (Hello, Veronica Mars).

I know, you probably think I'm lame. But I like finding joy in simple things.

Plus, I got a cute thank you note from my neighbor-girl-scout. It says,

"Thank you for buying cookies. I can go to horsie camp now. I'm so excited! Love, Ella."

So on top of feeling sneaky and lazy, I get to feel that I'm doing it for a good cause.

He's a keeper

2011-04-01T13:43:00.002-06:00

My shoulder was killing me the other day, so I rubbed some BENGAY into it while sitting on the couch by my husband and reading a book. He later confessed to me that he hadn't been reading his book like I thought he was. He was watching me. Why?

"You looked hot."

Ummm. . . what?

"You looked hot. Leaning over with your shirt pulled off your shoulder. . . rubbing oil into it. . . reading a book. . . "

"With my hair in a ponytail?"

"Yup."

"And my nerd glasses?"

"Yup."

"So what you're saying is that you like nerdy librarians who've hurt themselves and smell like old people?"

"Exactly."

"Well, you've come to the right place, my friend."

Oh. Boy.

2011-04-01T13:35:00.003-06:00

Boy 1 - "Eww! My shoe stinks! Want to smell?"

Boy 2 - "Yeah." Shoe passes hands "Eww." Passes shoe back

Boy 1 - "Hey! It smells even worse if you put it really close to your nose. Try it."

Boy 2 - "OK" Passes shoe. "Gross!" (as if this were some sort of compliment)

Boy 1 - "Hey! Smell my sock. . . . "

* * *

Boy 1 - "Look at that mark on my finger. I hurt it."

Boy 2 - "Does it hurt?"

Boy 1 - "Only if I rub it hard like this."

Boy 2 - "Can I try?"

Boy 1 - "Sure." (Brother rubs his finger) "Ouch."

* * *

I'm not quite sure how to comment on this except to say something I'm sure I'll be saying a lot in the coming years - I don't get it.

Singing and Talking

2011-03-27T21:39:00.004-06:00

Lil' girl is so adorable when she sings. I love it.

She's been singing the song "Jesus wants me for a sunbeam" as "Jesus wants me for a sunBEEP" I wanted to preserve her cuteness for posterity and this is what I got:

Of course, the "NO" is pretty typical too.

One of her favorite books lately is "Purplelicious" and it is just fun to hear her say it. This time she cooperated. (Her cousin loves the book "Pinkalicious" and you can read the funny story about that here.)

She loves it when I sing to her and will usually finish the phrase. There is one we sing that goes:

Show me the way to go home.

I'm tired and I want to go to bed.

Oh, I had a little drink about an hour ago

and it went right to my head.

(I know, it is a drinking song) She won't finish the "went right to my head" the right way. She always says "it went right to my neck." Which, I must admit, makes a whole lot more sense.

Of course it does

2011-03-27T21:36:00.002-06:00

My almost two-year-old came into the room holding a paper fan. "It's a book." She announced.

"It's a book?" I replied. "What does it say?"

"Ribbit."

eating dyslexic frogs

2011-03-27T20:39:00.007-06:00

I'm not listening to you. I mean, what does a SQUIRREL know about mental health?

[note - I love, love, love this comic. In fact, you should go HERE and spend the rest of the day laughing at math and science jokes]

My kids go to bed at seven o'clock. Except for the baby, who is only four months old and not developmentally ready to self-soothe. I have a bedtime too - 10:00pm. I know from talking to my mom friends that this is unusual and pretty amazing, but before you start nominating me for any kind of awards, let me just explain; This is a matter of survival. I am not a good nighttime mommy. In fact, I suck at it. In dire circumstances, when sickness strikes or something like that, I can usually buck up and make it through for a day - maybe two. I can function, but not well. I can't be the kind of mom that I want to be when I am tired. I can't even think straight. And lately, despite my best efforts, it has been catching up to me.

1 - The other night I snuggled up on the couch next to Husband who was grading papers. I decided to do a crossword on my nook (It is still AWESOME, by the way) for a few minutes before going to bed. After interrupting him for help several times, I finally came to a point where several clues 'down' had solved one 'across,' but it didn't seem to make sense with the hint. Me: "John, what does E - A - T spell?" Him: "Eat. It spells eat. Go to bed." and he took the nook from me. Me: "Yeah . . . . good idea."

2 - I was doing a craft project with my kids at my mom's house. I was trying to spell each of the kids' names with plastic beads. I spelled two of their names wrong. THREE times. OK I just put the letters on backwards. But I had to take them apart and re-do the same ones multiple times. My mom says: "Umm...Lindsay? Are you dyslexic?" Me: "I don't think so." (That was after the first time I put them together wrong. After the third try I was seriously considering seeing a therapist.)

3 - I read the kids a book about frogs before bedtime. Their favorite kind of book, all science-y and full of froggy facts. Then I sent them to bed and tried to have an adult conversation with Husband. Except that I kept replacing ordinary words like "newspaper" with the word "frog."

The nice explanation is that I'm using my brain for so many other important things, like when the baby last ate and who has homework due tomorrow, that I don't have a lot of extra room for less important things (like spelling or talking). I'm afraid the ugly truth is that I'm just loosing my mind.

So if you've been expecting me to do something and I haven't followed through, here is my excuse: I've been eating dyslexic frogs.

and I just had to spell-check eating, nice.

Thankfully, I'm not the only one:

Becoming stupider - stupider - stupidier

Funniest thing I've heard all day

2011-02-27T19:22:00.002-07:00

JJ got a handful of chocolate chips as a treat. He quickly ate most of them and then made the last two talk to each other. He was doing different voices and the second chocolate chip had an accent (yes, really)

Chocolate chip #1 - How are you doing?

Chocolate chip #2 - Good. But it seems the rest of us have been eaten.

Chocolate chip #1 - Wait. . . you're made of CHOCOLATE?!

Then he shoved them both into his mouth and ran downstairs.

"It's my birthday present - to ME - I'm so happy"

2011-02-20T21:19:00.002-07:00

This year was an important birthday - one with a zero at the end of the number. At least I'm told this is important, or monumental or something. It was actually just a normal day for me. Husband forgot. But he already bought me a present (did I mention my NOOK?!) And he had a lot of work to do, so I took the kiddos and left the house for the day and we attended an extra church meeting that night - yippie.

This is actually fine with me. I've never really been an "important day" kind of person. I do want to go on a date with my husband to celebrate, but if it happens a week early or late it is no big deal. I've never really understood why people think the world should revolve around them on their birthdays, and why we only celebrate birthdays and not other important events. I mean, I'm happy our children were born, and I'm fine with a day just to celebrate them - but why the birthday? Why don't we celebrate the day they first said "I love you" to mommy, or the day they took their first steps, or the day they were conceived? (This is where my husband, who proof reads all my posts for me, says "We could celebrate that on our own. I know! Historical reenactments!" And yes, I do know the days each of my children were conceived. Husband also suggested that we mark those days on the calendar when our children are teenagers, just to embarrass them, which they will totally deserve.)

So I spent my birthday visiting my in-laws, who are fantastic, and my parents, who are also fantastic, and it was wonderful. My son gave me a kiss as a present. And my mother gave me a book called "A Mother's book of Secrets." Which I told my children they could not look at because it was only for mommies, and told all about how to be the meanest mommy ever. So we've had several games of chase and wrestle over it.

It was a great day.

Happy Valentine's Day!

2011-02-14T20:50:00.000-07:00

I love Valentine's Day; love love love it. But this year it was more frustrating than usual because I had to help they boys prepare cards for all the children in their school classes. Mostly this involved me saying "Write. your. name." five million times while they scattered heart stickers across the living room.

And to keep lil' girl entertained I gave her one of the extra valentines to color on.

JJ - No! Mom! She is coloring on my valentine!

Me - I know. You gave it to her because she is your sister and you love her so much.

JJ - No I didn't.

Me - Fine. I gave it to her. But she can have it. You don't need that one. It's fine.

JJ - No, Mom. I only love her a tiny little bit! She can't have one of my valentines.

And I was laughing so hard that I couldn't respond, but he let her keep it since she had already scribbled all over it.

I think the reason that I love Valentine's day (as apposed to many of my friends who hate it) is that I'm never disappointed. This is partly because my husband is the most perfect man ever and partly because of my expectations. I don't need some original, creative, romantic gesture; I actually want flowers and chocolate. I like flowers and chocolate. If John didn't buy them for me I would buy them for myself and be just as happy. The gift doesn't have to symbolize anything. As long as it looks pretty and tastes delicious I'm good. (Did you know you can buy chocolate flowers? I have one word for this and it is: awesome.)

Also, my birthday is a week after Valentine's day and my last name used to be Hart, so I always figured it was tailor made for me anyway. Plus, Husband doesn't care if I get him anything. So it is a day where I'm perfectly justified in writing "flowers and chocolate" on the grocery list and letting him do the grocery shopping (which I did).

This year was especially good. Husband got me three bouquets of flowers, five kinds of chocolate, two kinds of cookies AND a nook ! And in return I shaved my legs (with his razor).

Love you, Honey!

First time out with all four by myself. . .

2011-02-01T21:19:00.001-07:00

Gentleman at the grocery store asked me if I lived in a shoe.

"Not that you're an old lady or anything. . . "

hilarious

(insert clever title here)

2011-01-30T20:38:00.006-07:00

My six-year-old informed me that I don't do the laundry often enough; and that I need to catch up on the mending. Because he has one dirty pair of khaki slacks and one pair of khaki slacks with a hole in them and he NEEDS to wear his khaki slacks to school every. single. day.

Me: "Wear your blue ones. You have three pairs of blue pants."

Him: "No. I have to wear my khaki ones. Do you know why?"

Me: "No, why?"

Him: "So that I can match my new friend, Sara. She is my new friend at school and we play at recess. Do you know why we are friends?"

Me: "No, why?"

Him: "Because one day we were like, totally matching. We wore the same clothes, and bought the same lunch and everything. So now we're friends." (yes he said "like, totally")

He wears a uniform.

And he has two choices at lunch. The odds of matching anyone on any given day are high.

So I'm amused and slightly annoyed at his demanding I finish my chores (YOU try keeping up with five people's laundry, kid). "Ah, youth." I'm smugly thinking to myself, "Someday he will be as sophisticated as I am."

And then suddenly I'm jealous. I wish it was that easy for me to make friends. How often do I wish I knew what to say, knew how to start a conversation with the other moms? Surely we have a lot in common and could be friends? I would like, totally wear the same thing every day if it would help.

So the next time you see me at the park, just come on over and strike up a conversation. I'm sure we could be great friends. I'll be the one in the khaki slacks.

Conspiring against me

2011-01-30T20:29:00.003-07:00

BOTH Grandmothers gave my children flashlights for Christmas.

Apparently, they want me to have conversations like this:

Boy 1: "Mom! I can't sleep because JJ keeps turning on his flashlight!"

Me: "JJ do I need to take the flashlight away?"

Boy 2: "No."

Me: "OK. Then you need to leave it off. If you turn it on again tonight I will put it away."

Boy 2: "But what if I really need it? Like I can turn it on if I have to go to the bathroom, right?"

Me: "Fine. You can turn it on if you really need to go to the bathroom."

Boy 2: "And when I need to make shadow puppets?"

Me: "No! No one needs to make shadow puppets! Leave the flashlight off and go to sleep."

Husband pointed out that I shouldn't have let them sleep with the flashlights in the first place. But he was out of town, and by that point I didn't care what they had with them as long as they were quiet and in bed.

Thought for the day

2011-01-22T21:03:00.003-07:00

Kids are like potato chips.

They are so yummy it is hard to have just one.

And those women who manage that are a lot skinnier than I am.

Be afraid

2011-01-22T20:31:00.002-07:00

Yesterday I put my pants on backwards.

Twice.

Sometimes I think that motherhood has morphed me into something I don't even recognize - some crazy lady walking around with her pants on wrong. And while we're on the subject of politics, (Oh, we're not? Well. . . . . We are now.) I'm not really a Sarah Palin fan. Mostly because I can't really figure out what she is talking about most of the time. But I have a very good idea of what the phrase "Momma Grizzly" means, because I turn into one sometimes (but only on the full moon). I've always loved kids; long before I had my own I was a teacher and a babysitter and worked in day-care and LOVED it. My adoration of other people's children has diminished a bit now - my kids are so much cuter, it isn't their fault. But I still like other kids too.

EXCEPT. . .

Have you ever watched elementary school kids walk? I've seen drunk guys who pay more attention to where they are going, and they weave less. The other day I was picking up my kindergartener from school, and we had to walk through an entire hallway full of these kids to get to him. Naturally, my 20-month-old wanted to walk herself, so I was watching especially carefully to keep her from getting trampled. A small herd of kids were walking toward us, and of course they didn't see us even when we were only a few feet away. I tried to think of ways to keep them from plowing into my daughter. The easiest and quickest option that popped into my mind was to trip them.

And I almost did.

Seriously, I was thisclose to sticking my foot out in front of some little third-grader. Because when it comes to my kids whatever is left of my rational brain goes right out the window.

Thats right folks, the future generation has been entrusted to my hands - which are cold. I'd put them in my pockets, but I can't seem to find them.

Be very afraid.

The many faces of Lil' girl

2011-01-16T21:41:00.003-07:00

And, lest you think I'm showing favorites, here is what happens when I say, "Hey boys! Come here. I want to get a picture of all my cute kids."
Trust me, they are adorable too - but only when the camera is put away.

Delicious

2011-01-16T21:11:00.002-07:00

I wish I could make Mim shaped cupcakes - then I really could eat her up.

Yum!

Adventures in the NICU

2010-12-27T20:51:00.000-07:00

My water broke right before the delivery and there was meconium in it. That is the special, technical term for a baby's first bowel movement. But it sounds like a made-up element that we might take over another planet for. ("I don't care that we have to kill millions of aliens, the meconium deposits are priceless!") or maybe something that could kill Superman ("Bwa ha ha! You can't save Lois now! Those bars are coated with meconium!")

You may not be aware of this, but babies are not supposed to poop before they are born. If they do, it means that something is wrong. So the extra special baby nurses were called, and they got a full view of the delivery - which totally killed my "only my husband, midwife, and nurse are invited to the 'party with my pants off'" rule. But, oh well.

She had a kind of greenish tint to her, and the cord was wrapped around her neck twice. They put her on my chest at first but quickly moved her to the side where the docs could work on her better. According to my midwife it had been at least two days since the passing of the meconium, so she HAD been in distress but hadn't shown any signs of it on the monitor while we were in the hospital. In fact, by the fetal monitoring torture device I'd been wearing since we got to the hospital the baby was fine.

They took her away anyway.

Because they had sucked so much fluid out of her and she STILL wasn't breathing well, John went with the doctors to the NICU. He has never left me in the delivery room before. He is very stubborn about this. "The baby won't remember if I was with it or not. You will." He says. But this time there was a problem, and he went with the baby.

It was barely 6:00am and my midwife had to start her day. She finished with everything she needed to do with me, gave the nurse some instructions, said she would be back later and left.

The nurse made sure I had five blankets or so and then had to check on her other patients.

And I was alone.

Shivering and curled up in a cold, dark hospital room by myself.

More alone than I've been in nine months.

I cannot describe to you the feeling of not being pregnant any more than I can describe what it feels like to actually be pregnant. You may think you know what it feels like to not be pregnant because - hey! you're not pregnant right now! you totally get this!

I guess what I mean is that I can't describe the feeling of not being pregnant anymore. Usually, I'm ecstatic. EVERYTHING is better when you're not pregnant. You can breathe, sleep, move. . . the list goes on and on. But always before I've had that tiny person to hold. I've spent those first hours of not pregnant meeting someone I already love. (Except for that one time when I spent it sobbing in my husbands arms because of the miscarriage) But this time everything was fine. "Just a precaution," the nurses said, "just to check and make sure." But everything wasn't fine. Because I was more alone than I've ever felt in my life.

An eternity and a short while later, Husband came back and I was transfered to the maternity ward. After getting settled in and meeting my new nurses John asked me if I wanted to nap first or go down to the NICU. And I was all, "Ummm. . . take me to my baby NOW!"

Editorial note: from here on in I get a bit of an attitude. OK, I always have an attitude, but wacked out on hormones, drugs and no sleep, it becomes a bit more. . . pronounced.

We went through all the security to the Newborn Intensive Care Unit. I never did figure out if they were more concerned about people getting in there or germs. And there was my baby. 7 pounds 10 ounces of sweet, beautiful life hooked up to tubes and wires and the machine that goes 'ping'.

John introduced me to the nurse and we asked how the baby was doing. I think that NICU nurses should all go into politics. They are incapable of giving a straight answer. You'd think a simple question like, "Why do you have my baby hooked up to the machine that goes 'ping'?" would get a simple answer like, "I just like the sound it makes when it harmonizes with the oxygen "buzzzzzzzzzzz". My parents never took me to the symphony as a child, you see, so I try to imagine what it would have been like." But I never felt like we got a straight answer from the nurses. The fact that I was exhausted and mildly drugged may have had something to do with it.

The nurse said, "Give me just a second, and you can hold her."

To which I replied, "Excuse me? Did you just tell me I had to wait for YOUR permission to hold MY child? Listen Lady, I don't know who you think you are but I created that body out of my own blood and sweat (and almond joy bars). I vomited for weeks and limped for months and then pushed that gigantic head out. of. my. vagina. You don't get to tell me when I can touch her. Back off!"

No. I didn't. But I wanted to. The audacity of it still bugs me. But I was a good little patient and waited for her to lift the baby into my arms. Probably it was a good thing that I was too tired to yell at her.

I get that they were trying to do what was best for my baby. And I understand that they have experience with this and that I should trust their judgement, which I did - I still do. But every time they started to order me around I found myself wishing that I had on combat boots and not those pansy little hospital socks so I could kick somebody in the keister.

Every three hours was her feeding time. This was the only time I was allowed to hold her. She needed rest, the nurses told me. Don't disturb her, they said. It was so frustrating. Do you know why I had the baby? To hold it. To cuddle her close to my chest and listen to her breathe. The whole reason humans developed the ability to walk upright was so that our hands could be free to carry our helpless little wiggle-worms and smell their heads all day long. Babies were meant to be held. You don't just lay them down. Except that they did. And I did. Because as much as I wanted to give those nurses a piece of my mind (or a taste of my shoe), what I really wanted was to rip all of the wires and needles and tubes out of my baby and take her home and cuddle her for a week. And I was rational enough to know that I needed her to be healthy before I could do that. But just barely.

Can you see the crazy behind my eyes?

Basically she was just taking a little longer to adjust to life outside the womb. She was breathing on her own by the next morning and eating a couple of ounces every feeding by the day after that. She finished a precautionary round of antibiotics and we were able to take her home after four days. The day before Thanksgiving. I have never been more grateful.

the birth story

2010-12-26T21:27:00.005-07:00

I'm not really sure how long my labor was. And that is one of the first things people ask. It depends on when you start counting.

As soon as the cervix starts to dilate? Nine months.

When the cervix is dilated past 3 cm? Two months.

4 cm and 80% effaced? One month.

When the baby drops into the pelvis? Nine months.

When the baby is at station +1 or lower? Two months.

When contractions are regular? One week.

When the contractions start to be painful enough? 6 hours.

When the water breaks? 20 minutes.

Other than being very very hormonal for the last couple of weeks the labor was great. Maybe by the fourth time around there is just more room for a baby. I don't know, but the labor was pretty easy, as far as these things go. I'd give you a blow by blow - but I'd rather tell you about the baby.

I was surprised. And I was surprised that I was surprised. Since we didn't find out the gender at the ultrasound, that is what I told everyone when they asked me what I was having: a surprise. But I didn't really think I would be. I told myself that I didn't really have any feelings either way, that it could be a boy or a girl. But then she was born and the nurse said "It's a girl!" and I was surprised - happy, but very surprised. (I need to find an synonym for surprised)

And we named her Miriam. Which is about the most beautiful name I've ever heard. Right up there with Lindsay. But I'll refer to her by shortened versions here on the blog.

Cutest thing I've seen all day

2010-12-14T21:33:00.002-07:00

Lil girl is having a bit of an identity crisis. She can't quite decide if she wants to be a big kid or a baby.

Here she is wearing one of her older brother's shirts and sucking on one of her little sister's binkys (No, not her actual binky, its a spare).

Fortunately, the brother is making the transition to big-kid-land easier. When the Pokemon movie is too scary, he lets her hold his hand.

Come on, say it with me: Awwwww!

compliments

2010-12-04T21:09:00.004-07:00

Recently my neighbor told me that when she thinks of pioneers,

she doesn't think of anyone famous or her own ancestors,

she thinks of me.

uummmmm. . . . . . thank you?

Verification

2010-12-01T19:44:00.003-07:00

So we've been having some major insurance issues - as in, we don't have any.

I've been in the "pending" stage of the Medicade application process for months now.

The last letter I received from them said that I needed to provide proof of pregnancy or verification of live birth.

I'm thinking of sending this picture. . . .

Or this one . . .

But something tells me they want something more official - something not as easily faked. After all, this could be anyone's baby.

Think I should send them a picture of my stretch marks?

It takes two

2010-11-25T19:25:00.003-07:00

Our daughter - a great mix of Mommy and Daddy.

Here she is with her toy all wrapped up in a baby blanket, getting it ready for bed.

Which toy? A light saber.

It's a GIRL

2010-11-24T19:40:00.003-07:00

Spending some time in the NICU

And now she's HOME!!

I promise I'll blog some more details when I'm not quite so tired - so maybe in ten years.

Tagged

2010-11-22T09:57:00.003-07:00

I imagine that my children left messages for each other on the inside of my uterus. Nine months with nothing better to do than scratch your initials in the wall.

If you could see what The Unborn sees, it would probably say things like "G-man was here" and "JJ RULZ."

Lil' girl seems to have left detailed instructions on how to stay in as long as possible. "Trust me," it says, "you do NOT want to go out there."

And I think one of them drew a target on my left hip, you know, so they could practice their mad karate skills.

Made for each other

2010-11-18T20:20:00.002-07:00

I still can't stop laughing about this.

A while back I was chatting with my sister-in-law, and she apologized in advance for anything she might say that was offensive, "I'm realizing," she said, "that I don't always think about what I say and it sometimes comes out wrong. I don't mean to offend anyone but I do. So don't feel bad if I say something I shouldn't."

To which I replied, "BAH HA HA HA HAHHAHA! "

You remember I'm married to John, right?

Your brother? He is the KING of 'that didn't come out right'. If I was offended by things people don't mean to say I could never have married him.

Case in point:

My husband walked across our living room to kiss me yesterday and said: "Hi, Whore."

It was a little garbled, something between hottie and gorgeous. . trailing off at the end because it was sounding wrong.

I have not laughed that hard in a long time. When I could breathe again, I said: "I can not wait to tell people that you just called your 8.99999 months pregnant wife a whore."

Him: "Yeah, tell your dad. . . that will go over well."

Bubble

2010-11-15T19:21:00.000-07:00

Confession: I am a space person. I like my space. I feel no need to reach out and touch anyone.

Greetings and farewells are occasionally "touch appropriate," but really, unless you are my husband, you have no invitation to invade my bubble.

My children do not understand this. They have no respect for personal boundaries, ESPECIALLY with me. Something about having been created from my flesh makes them feel entitled to be in my space. All. The. Time.

Oh, it is sweet and all. Everyone needs positive touch daily (bla bla bla), and I don't really mind providing it most of the time.

But I get to a point in my day (usually around bedtime) when I just need everyone to stop touching me. Especially since my kids are so skinny they may as well be re-animated skeletons. Say whatever you want about childhood obesity, at least those kids don't hurt to hug - maybe I should be feeding them more junk. Somehow a pointy little elbow or shoulder always finds a way jab the belly, which in turn, starts jabbing back. How do you tell an unborn child to give you some space?

This Sunday my four-year-old was having an especially hard day and really wanted to cuddle.

Special sarcastic thanks to the primary teacher who ignored my "dietary restrictions" talk and gave him a brownie on Saturday; full of sugar, chocolate and wheat. Of course I have no objection to the sugar rush, it's the stomach ache, whiny, the-world-is-about-to-end child that I have to deal with for two days after.

So he slept on my lap through two hours of church. Sweet, if you don't mind holding a forty pound bag of elbows. I swear the chair was padded when I sat down. But at this point, there are really only two comfortable positions to sit in in the first place, given that The Unborn is pretty much ready to fall out any second now.

I stretched out on the couch as soon as I got home, but apparently I looked too comfortable. The boys tried to cuddle up on either side of me. Mostly joking, I said, "Leave me alone. Why do you have to TOUCH me?"

My six-year-old's response? "Because you are the Amazing Mommy."

Ok, fine. You can share my blanket.

Brinner

2010-11-12T21:43:00.006-07:00

Him - "Hey Mom, did you know that some people eat pancakes for breakfast instead of dinner?"

Me - "No way!"

Him - "Yeah. Wouldn't that be great? Could we have pancakes for breakfast tomorrow?"

Me - "I don't think we have time to make pancakes for breakfast and get to school on time. Pancakes take a while." ( . . . longer than cereal)

Him - "oh. Well could you wake up at 5:00 to make me pancakes?"

Me - "AAHA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!! No."

Seriously, he has lived here six years and can ask me that question with a straight face?

And now you know more than I like to admit about our eating habits, or rather my lack of dinner planning skills.

I did tell him we could make pancakes for breakfast over the weekend, but considering that we had French toast one night and pancakes another night this week, it probably isn't going to happen soon. I can only wash so much syrup out of the baby's hair.

2010-11-09T19:47:00.001-07:00

So, remember that one time when I could wander more than 100 yards from a bathroom and a kitchen because I wasn't pregnant?

Yeah, me neither.

Daddy's Girl

2010-11-05T21:45:00.004-06:00

This is mostly for my wonderful sister-in-law Adrienne, who is expecting her first girl after two boys. Girls are delightful for many reasons- but the best thing in the world is watching her with her daddy. You're going to love it.

And this is what happens while I make dinner. You can tell it is a couple of months old because she runs, not walks, everywhere now.

More videos of Baby Girl - since I've been told I don't post enough of her.

FRIDAY

2010-11-05T20:47:00.005-06:00

Dropping my oldest off at the playground for school. . .

A couple of little boys come running up to him and he is about to run off without even saying goodbye (a very common occurrence - it means he is well adjusted, right?) Before he leaves I yell loud enough that they all turn back to look at me.

"HEY! I love you, have a good day."

"I love you too, Mom." And then he is gone.

But his little friend pauses. "You know, you don't have to say 'have a good day.' It's Friday."

So glad they are learning something worthwhile in school.

A word from Miss Manners (or me, pretending to be Miss Manners)

2010-10-31T21:08:00.006-06:00

So we're expecting our fourth child. Apparently, this is unusual. (and here I thought we lived in Utah)

Maybe it is just because our children are so close in age, but we get a lot of interesting comments from people. Tactless is a better word for it. For future reference: the appropriate thing to say to anyone who tells you they are pregnant is some variation of "Congratulations." If you know the person well enough, and you sense some ambivalence to that response, you can follow up with ". . . and how do you feel about it?"

Unless the person volunteers the information, birth control methods used and their effectiveness are none of your business. Neither is the quality/quantity of the person's sex life, bank account or family situation.

That isn't to say that some people don't want to talk about these things, just that you should NOT assume that you deserve the intimate details of someone else's life in casual conversation.

On a related note, the correct response to learning a baby's gender is always "Congratulations." Again, you can follow up by asking how the prospective parents feel about this. I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY hated people saying "Oh good. You got your girl." my last pregnancy. Of course we were excited about having a girl, but that in no way means that we were unhappy with our boys, or that we wouldn't have had more if one of the first two had been "right." It always sounded as if we somehow didn't get it right the first time. Helpful Hint: NEVER - even in the vaguest terms - insult a woman's children. Especially a hormonal, emotional, exhausted, sick woman.

And one last thing; I'm approaching the end of this nine-month-marathon and yes, due dates are approximate. Four weeks or so left. In the abstract, that doesn't seem like very long, but trust me here, I am going to feel every second of every minute of ever hour of every day. Four weeks might as well be four years at this point. Unless you have been calling to check and see how I'm doing every week for the past eight months, now is NOT a good time to start. If I answer the phone, I haven't had the baby. I will call you with this news. If I'm in labor, I'm not going to answer. If I'm not in labor, the question "So, you in labor yet?" will get a response you probably don't want to hear, and I'll have to repent about later. Save us both the trouble.

And if you are in the mood, here are a couple of other posts about what you should and shouldn't say to pregnant women. . . .

Rants from Mommyland: Things I Wanted to say While Pregnant

Pregnant Chicken: 10 Things to Never say to a Pregnant Woman

I found them hilarious, but you may have to be in the situation to really appreciate it.

Dear Baby,

2010-10-28T20:03:00.004-06:00

Do not listen to Daddy.

You are not invited to make an appearance until late November.

Do not listen to Daddy.

I don't care if it would be easier for him and his homework load.

I have a list of things that MUST be done before you are welcomed here.

Do not listen to Daddy.

Daddy does not have breasts.

Trust me on this one, Squirt. If you want to eat, always listen to the one with breasts.

Love,

Mommy

Preemptive Apology

2010-10-23T22:33:00.003-06:00

To my future daughters-in-law:

Right now it is WAY more important to train my boys to put the toilet seat UP than to remind them to put it DOWN.

So sorry if this causes marital friction in twenty or so years.

If it makes you feel any better, I will teach them the importance of bringing you flowers.

Love from,

your husband's mom.

Quotes of the day

2010-10-17T21:13:00.002-06:00

(while swapping knock-knock jokes in the car)

Boy #1 - NO. When I am telling a joke, I get to say the funny part. . . Because I'm so funny.

- - - - - - - - -

Him - Wow. I can't believe the side-view mirror broke like that. That is so weird.

Me - Well honey, you hit a bus.

- - - - - - - -

Super Why

2010-10-10T19:58:00.007-06:00

Have you seen this show on PBS? It is one of my favorites.

The characters live in "Storybook Village" and become super heroes with early literacy powers like letter recognition, and rhyme to solve their problems. It is by far, one of the least annoying children's shows available, and it is educational - bonus.

But I have this love-hate relationship with the main characters. The creators were obviously trying to show their tolerance for diversity. Of the two female leads, one is white and one is black, one is "sporty" (Little Red Riding Hood becomes "Wonder Red" with roller blades and a magic bag) and one is "feminine" (Princess Pea becomes "Princess Presto" with fairy wings and a wand). Which is great as far as that goes, but I kind of resent the implication that you can't be feminine and athletic.

The main male character is a boy named Wyatt, the little brother of Jack (from Jack and the Beanstalk). He plays soccer and carries a small handheld computer. He calls the "Super Readers" together when there is a problem and becomes "Super Why" saving his friends with a super computer and a "Why Writer" (as far as I can tell, it is a magic wand).

So if you are giving girls positive, diverse role models, you should do the same for boys right? What else can boys be if they don't want to be athletic or technologically savvy? Who is the other male character?

A pig.

Not just any pig, a construction worker pig. From the Three Little Pigs story.

I really, really hate the underlying assumptions here. I don't really care if PBS is pushing an agenda or just reflecting society at large - it is wrong on so many levels.

The feminist movement did some fantastic things for our culture, but one of the unwholesome lingering effects (in my opinion) is that men seem to have been pigeonholed more and more. Women are given a wider variety of acceptable roles to fill and the traditional roles of men have been re-defined. But they still have a very narrow slot to fill. You can be normal or you can be a pig.

I would add a third option, which for obvious reasons, they couldn't put into a PBS kids show - Our society seems to stereotype men in three ways: boys can be normal (intelligent, quiet, confident) they can be gay, or they can be pigs.

Why do we limit boys this way? Why do we insist they fill these molds? I'm not saying they won't have roles to fill in the course of their lives, or even that there aren't inherent gender differences. I really believe we should all play to our strengths, and some of those are inborn male and female characteristics. But there is such a wider range than we like to acknowledge. I'm not trying to rework the fabric of society here, I'm just saying. . . . . a pig? Come on, people.

I'll get off my soapbox now.

(but you should hear my issues with Thomas the Tank Engine- promoting the British class system much?)

Where Romance goes to Die

2010-10-10T19:36:00.005-06:00

My very fabulous sister watched my children so that John and I could go on a date this weekend.

We ran errands. We went to the hardware store and the LDS Church distribution center and the toy store. Then we went to dinner and talked about parent-teacher conferences and how we are going to schedule the coming weeks.

We have officially become old and boring.

But I thought dinner was fantastic. Mostly because at this point in the pregnancy if I'm not sick, I'm hungry and I ate a giant piece of meat. And the errands were necessary. We bought things that will make my life easier/happier and we got most of the Christmas shopping done. I know I'm not going to be up for much shopping later, so it was perfect.

So while popular culture may tell you that you have to spend lots of money and go to exotic places to enjoy a good date - it is a lie.

As far as I'm concerned, requirements for a good date are: build your relationship and enjoy one another's company and explore common interests. Check, check and check. If you also get good food, well, what more could you ask?

I'd like the senior discount with that, please.

School pictures

2010-10-06T20:14:00.003-06:00

I keep telling him to stop eating his vegetables and then he won't keep growing.

He doesn't listen.

5 going on 15

2010-10-05T20:14:00.007-06:00

Is he in Kindergarten or Jr. High?

And I was pretty sure he wouldn't be getting notes from girls for a couple of years. . . .

Is this normal?

Underwater and Seasick

2010-09-26T19:52:00.002-06:00

The Book of Mormon tells the story about a man named Jared, his brother and their wives, children and assorted friends; collectively known as the Jaredites. God promised the Jaredites that they would be led to a new land, where they would be able to set up a righteous society and be blessed. But to get there they had to cross an ocean. So God showed them how to build boats.

The ships they built were "tight like a dish" on the top and bottom with only two windows that also shut tightly "like unto a dish." There was no way to steer. The people filed into the ships and shut the windows and the wind blew them across the ocean. Many times they were buried under the waves and swallowed in the depths of the sea. When the waters were calm, they could open a window - and then they would have to shut it again when another storm came to blow them closer to their destination. It was probably miserable, but the storms were what finally got them to their promised land.

I've been thinking of this story a lot lately because I too am on a journey, with heaven as my promised land. Lately I feel like I am not steering my life as much as I'm just hanging on through a storm. I made the decisions that got me into this boat (metaphorically speaking) and it would do me no good to try and get out now. I know the winds are blowing me in the right direction, but right now it feels dark and cold and I need some fresh air - (ole' Jared was seasick a while back and we haven't been able to open the window to air things out).

When the Jaredites were underwater they prayed and sang songs until they were brought back up to the top again. I don't feel much like singing. But I've been praying, and hopefully I'll get back above water soon.

I tell you this not because I need your sympathy or because it will help if you know exactly what I'm feeling - it won't. I'm just hoping that you will give me the benefit of the doubt. Because things are slipping, folks. Lots of things. I'm sorry if I didn't do anything special for your birthday, or didn't return your call. Please overlook the fact that my children need haircuts and no-one wiped off the milk mustaches before school. I am trying (which is to say, I'm failing) to stay on top of things. Right now though, I'm in way over my head.

Church thoughts

2010-09-26T19:44:00.003-06:00

Thanks to a broken air conditioner in the chapel it was freezing and my children all wanted to sit very close to me.

With a boy tucked under each arm and little girl on my lap I thought about how sweet it was to have cuddle time with my adorable children. And as they squirmed around trying to get closer and comfortable around the bulge-that-is-baby-number-four I realized that this may be one of the last times I get to cuddle them all at the same time.

Then the Unborn woke up and for some reason objected to being squished and elbowed and started kicking back. Not everyone gets to be jabbed from the inside and outside at the same time by their own progeny. I'm sure it looked sweet from the next row over. I was glad when it was over.

My optical fixation this week

2010-08-27T22:08:00.007-06:00

Let us get one thing straight: Freud was wrong. Crazy, messed-up, who-is-the-one-fixated-on-sex?, wrong. But he started with observing human nature, and his observations were usually correct. His conclusions. . . not so much.

I say this because I am watching my oldest child move from one stage of childhood to another and I am seeing some echoes of Freud. Mostly in how he relates to us, his parents. According to Freud, as a boy passes the toddler phase his world view changes from mother-centered to idolizing and emulating his father. My five-almost-six year old would much rather play with his father than me. Instructions and advice from his dad carry much more weight than anything I say. He is still a sweet, obedient child; but he cuddles a lot less and rarely needs my approval. Many days my only role is to prepare and present the food.

When he does want a hug or some comfort from me it is short and usually involves my getting jabbed with an elbow or shoulder. The kid is all bone. This year he grew four inches and only gained two pounds. He has morphed into a squirrely boy seemingly overnight.

Of course, I love it and he is wonderful and all. But I must say, I kind of miss the chubby baby I once had. Given his genetics, I'm pretty sure he will never again be soft to snuggle with. In my nostalgia I changed my computer background to one of his baby pictures.

What I wish I'd known when I was a teacher

2010-08-27T20:44:00.004-06:00

So my oldest started Kindergarten and the second started preschool (for the second year).

No, I didn't cry. They were so excited to finally be going to school that if I had started to get emotional it would have made things hard on them. And I remember from when I was a teacher how hard a parent can make separation on a child - by making them think there is something to be afraid of, or something wrong. So I just smiled and waved.

But it was a little wrenching to just walk away and leave those two boys at the school. It physically hurt a little. I've thought this before: missing your kids is not like missing another person, it is more like missing a limb. They were a part of me. Literally of my flesh and it feels slightly unnatural to just walk away and leave that behind. But healthy. And good.

It reminded me of a short story I read in one of my English classes. "I Stand Here Ironing" by Tillie Olsen. The narrator is a mother whose daughter's teacher has asked for a meeting to help the teacher understand her.

What good would that do? Wonders the mother, "There is all that life that has happened outside of me, beyond me."

I feel that way with my kids sometimes. It wasn't that long ago that they couldn't even move without alerting me. And then they were born and they could experience things that I didn't even know about. Thankfully, it is a gradual separation - but it is still very strange.

In the story, the mother thinks back on when her daughter was a baby, " She was a beautiful baby. . . She loved motion, loved light. . . She was a miracle to me, but when she was eight months old I had to leave her daytimes with the woman downstairs to whom she was no miracle at all,"

As I watched the young kindergarten teacher (holy cow, when did I get so old?) lead the line of students into the classroom I wondered if there was any way she could understand that behind her were twenty miracles. "Just know," I wanted to tell her, "you are walking away with my treasure."