Don't worry, she's not drowning

I have a competitive child. A child who wants to be great, no, the best at everything. A child who gets straight A's always. A child who hates to lose, always to the point of tears if she does (as if you didn't already know whom I was referring to). This is going to get her very far in life, as she will try and try and try until she can master a skill.
Take piano for example. She just started playing 2 months ago. She's had a total of 7 lessons. She practices many times during the day, without ever being asked. And she can now play almost her entire first book. Along with "I am a Child of God", right hand only. I don't force her to practice, she just wants to. She told me that once she's done learning the piano, she wants to learn other instruments. As if there is a certain stopping point she'll get to where she will play perfectly. And she's not kidding.
Softball, another example. She started off the season throwing like a girl, swinging like a girl, skipping to first base like a girl (I know she's a girl, but come on!). As she saw where she wanted to be as far as skills go, she stepped it up. And she consistently got good hits, threw hard, and started practicing underhanded fast-pitching, even though she won't be doing that for another year at least. She wants to be ahead of the game.
So swim team is starting next week. I took the two older kids down to try the team out, to see if it would be something they were interested in. My eldest took to it, tried his best, and wasn't half bad. My daughter looked like she was drowning the whole time. The freestyle stroke has never been something we've really practiced. She had to hold onto the wall many times to catch her breath because she wasn't breathing right. She belly flops when she dives in.
And yet, I can almost guarantee that in a few weeks, she'll be 10 times better at it. She wants desperately to do well, especially if her brother is. She can't wait for the meets. Sometimes I wonder where she gets this from.

Oh, right.

So I'll be running St.George this year. I'm hoping for a finish time of around 4:15, although I really want a 4:00. My last marathon was a 4:30 two years ago. Training started this week. I can't wait.

Schedule

So school is out for the kids and summer school just started for the professor. Which means I'm a single parent at home Monday through Thursday with all four, for the next 8 weeks. My dearest leaves at 6am and comes home at 11pm. Monday through Thursday. 8 weeks. Man, what am I going to do with them?

This is the first year I decided to implement a summer schedule. It basically goes like this:

5am-I get up
6am-I wake up kids for family time before Mike leaves
Kids eat breakfast and do chores
9am-Recess(That's what the kids want to call it, but it just means play time)
10am-Quiet time, reading time, nap time for the babe
11am-Lunch
12pm-Fun time(This is when we will go do fun stuff, like the science center, library, swim in people's pools, anything that involves staying cool)
3pm-TV time, friend time, and nap time(for me, that is)
5pm-dinner
6pm-Recess again
7pm-Baths
8pm-Quiet time, reading time
9pm-Bed

So I told my sister and her husband about this, and my sister says, to her dearest, "That sounds like something your mom would do," and I don't think she meant it as a compliment. I thought about that, and since she has no kids, yet, I shrugged it off. See when you don't have kids who wake up at the crack of dawn, turn on the tv, and don't move for 14 hours, you don't understand the need for some basic structure. Because if I were to, say, turn off the tv and tell them to do something else, I would get a backlash of, "There's nothing to do," "I'm so bored," "He's teasing me," and a million other phrases that grate on the sanity I'm clinging to. Hence, the schedule. Now, do we live or die by the schedule? Of course not. I can be flexible. What I think is funny is that my kids love knowing what's going to happen and when it's happening.

Yesterday my children came into my bedroom, on Memorial Day, around 6:15am.

"Mom, mom, are you up?"
Umm...no. Why?
"Come on Mom, get up, we're hungry and you said we can't eat until after family time."
"Geez guys, it's a holiday, the schedule doesn't start until tomorrow!"
"Thanks Mom."

See, they like a schedule.

Friday

Starting this Friday, we are officially going to be getting paid a regular paycheck for the entire summer. For the first time since the professor finished grad school. Let us break out the Hallelujah chorus.
There were those many summers of being in school and being broke, but those don't count because everyone is broke all year long when they're in school. Except for, of course, during financial aid distribution day, which happened twice a year. Those were good days.
Then after graduation and getting a real job teaching, we were on a nine month pay schedule. Which was great for nine months, and absolutely sucky for three. Whose idea was it to not pay people for three months out of the year? Like bills would just stop coming, we wouldn't have to eat those months? Perhaps it was assumed we would save a percentage of the paycheck in anticipation of the summer. Sure that looks good on paper, but realistic, not so much.
We switched over to the twelve month pay schedule after a while, which just meant a very large check, with a huge amount of taxes taken out, at the beginning of the summer. It was like a game to see if we could actually make it last to July. August? Yeah right.
Am I telling you this to make you feel sorry for teachers everywhere? Sort of. (If you know a teacher, send them a grocery store or gas gift card in August, they'll be forever grateful.) But mainly it's because I'm celebrating the end of an era.
Last year was the first that we could sign up for real year round pay. The same paycheck would be coming every two weeks, 26 times a year. Sweet.
Friday will be the first time this will really affect us.
Usually there would be no paycheck on Friday.
Not this Friday.
I love you Friday.

Silly boys

You all are in for a treat. Two posts, one day.

So I'm feeling very whateverish about this blogging thing. I go through phases of loving it and loathing it. It really is just coming up with interesting things to say that gets me all riled up. Anyways...

The boys are gone, it's just the three of us girls for the weekend. What to do, what to do...don't worry, the princess has made a list. Planned for today was crafts, dinner out, and wearing matching pajama bottoms. Check, check, and check. We got to sit and talk while we ate dinner and she told me about the boy who gave her his necklace to borrow. Hmmm...who is this Jacob and why a.) is he wearing a silver star necklace to school, and b.) did he give it to you to wear home and c.) would you consider said Jacob your boyfriend?
Oh they're just friends, she says. Don't worry mom, she's going to give it back tomorrow, she says. Right.
I'm just wondering if my tiny little princess, who suddenly appears no older than my tiny baby, would tell me if she did have a boyfriend. Would I tell my mom? Sorry mom, but probably not. So how do I handle this?
I decide that if I make it a big deal, it will be a big deal. And we don't want any big deals. So I shrug it off to silly boys, she laughs, we finish dinner. The end.
I am so screwed.

All About Me

Not super great at this posting thing. But I know you guys are wondering about me. So if I had to choose 10 quirky things about me, they would be:

1. I can crack my neck just by turning my head. It's a pretty impressive talent.

2. I love to run races just so I can feel the thrill of passing people. Especially if it's someone I know. Not super sportsman like of me, sure. But it's my competative nature.

3. I keep losing my two smallest right toenails. They keep falling off, especially after a long run. I'm not sure why. It's pretty crazy to have no toenails, especially when you wear flip flops all the time.

4. I take a nap almost every day. Sometimes twice a day. Let's face it, whenever I get the chance to close my eyes. Sometimes I set the microwave timer to wake me up so I won't forget to get the kids from school. Lazy? Yes I am.

5. I love to wake up and drink a Diet Dr. Pepper at 4:30am. It's how I start the day.

6. I have celiac disease which means no wheat, barley, or rye to eat. I am a gluten free girl. Or at least try to be.

7. I have not been, um, endowed, but I have no desire to change them. I hate pain and quite frankly would look very silly.

8. I have this thing about sleeping with the lights on. My husband hates it. He will usually get up after I've gone to sleep and turn off all the lights, which bugs me because if I have to get up in the middle of the night, I hate not being able to see anything. So now he leaves the kids' bathroom light on, which isn't very bright but better than nothing.

9. I love to read books but don't do it that often because if I start to read something, I cannot put it down until I'm done. I will literally sit and read for hours and hours.

10. I found my first grey hair when I was 19. It's been all downhill since.

I am quirky. A little.

Is it over yet?

So the semester is officially over in a few days, and my hubby(I hate that term) will be home for a few weeks to putter around the house until summer school starts up. I know what some of you may be thinking, wow, her husband, being in the school system, gets so many vacations and so much time off, how wonderful.
And it is.
Sometimes.
And sometimes he gives my friends a hard time about how often they call, and do I really spend that much time on the phone? And why am I taking a nap when it's only 9am (ignoring the fact that I've been up since 4:30am, run, showered, made breakfast, packed lunches, nursed and fed a baby, changed diapers, cleaned up breakfast, gotten the kids to school, and all the other things I do before he rolls out of bed) And what's there to eat, do we need to get groceries again? And how often do you go out to lunch with your friends? And where's my pen, who keeps taking my pen, How Am I Supposed To Do Bills Without My Pen?!
I am truly happy to spend so much quality time with the professor. I really, really am. We have a great marriage. But it is based on the fact that he goes to work and I take care of everything else, every thing except bills and laundry that is. I get things done in my own time on my own schedule. And sometimes, when he's around all day, watching my every move, I get a little antsy.
Summer school starts May 29th. Let's count down the days.

My Girls

They are too cute.

On a side note:

My daughter wrote me this card. It was a school assignment, they had to write a card to somebody and she picked me. It said:

Dear Mom,

I like it when you are nice to me. You are always so mean.

Your Daughter,

Emme

Nice, huh?

Nearsighted

The princess is blind. Or at least very nearsighted, according to the opthomologist. 20/175 in one eye, 20/150 in the other. At first I felt terrible that we didn't recognize this before, but the good doc told me that eyesight in a child can change very quickly. She might have just recently become blind. Inside I felt badly though, because I honestly thought she was telling the teacher she couldn't see the board just because she wanted to move away from the boys she was surrounded by.

As it turns out she was telling the truth.

We ordered some glasses for her. Flexon of some sort, in a purpley color. They come in in 7-10 business days. I'll post a picture as soon as I get them. She looks adorable in them.

And now she can see.

Can you imagine what life must be like, to go from fuzzy to clear?

kill.the.gluten

So I've had this celiac thing going on for the last 5 or so years. It was a huge deal at first. I went through all the stages of greiving for my lost Krispy Kremes. Denial, Anger, Denial some more. Since I never got really sick from eating gluten, it was hard for me to stay on the diet. Plus, gluten free food is pricey, and we were on a strict grocery budget. Besides, who wants to make a delicious dinner for the family, and then go eat a bowl of rice.

Yuck.

But I've learned over the years many tricks to eating well and eating gluten free. Exchanging this for that. Investing in rice flour. The value of a good box of gf brownies and how to hide them from everyone else. Drinking a lot of Diet Dr. Pepper.

So this site, which was the brainchild of my sis-in-law, Liz, has recipes and pictures of what we eat. Nothing too fancy, although I do have some killer recipes that are worth the work. We just thought it would be fun to share with you that you can eat a gluten free diet and not starve. Will some of the foods taste a little different? Sure. Will you still miss those Krispy Kreme? Of course. But they don't sell them in Arizona anymore anyways.

Enjoy.

kill.the.gluten

Confession

Did you know that even when there is only one other person in the urgent care waiting room, it still takes two hours before you get to leave?
Why was I in the urgent care, you ask?

Let me tell you a little story...
Monday night was baseball night, as is almost every night. Luckily it was an early game and we were home by 8pm. Just in time to throw some dinner together and put the kids to bed. Hmmm.....what to make.....I opted for something easy and fast, breakfast. No not cereal, but eggs, potatoes, and leftover ham from Easter, which I was hoping was still good.

I was standing at the stove frying up potatoes, scrambling eggs and slicing ham when I turn around.....just in time to see my baby wriggling her way out of her carseat, about to fall from the table onto the kitchen tile floor. Supermom surfaced and I leapt to grab her, not realizing that supermom cannot jump through chairs. I was halted in my tracks, and fell to the ground screaming for someone to grab the babe as she was about to hit the floor. Chance finally realized what was going on and reached her just in time. I helplessly lay on the floor, crying and writhing in pain.

In my rescue effort, my sternum had landed square on the back of one of my kitchen chairs.

My oldest, holding the baby, grabs the phone and wants to dial 911. My daughter is hysterical, worried for her sister and scared for me. I say in probably too loud a voice that we don't unbuckle the baby from her carseat because she can get out now, and to never do that again. No one takes the blame and I am in too much agony to interogate. I get up, go to the bathroom, almost puke, pull myself together and try to salvage dinner, which has pretty much burned.

A little while later, with my chest now throbbing, I was sitting on the couch, unable to do much else. My little Cannon asks me in a super serious voice, "Mom are you going to spank the bottom of whoever unbuckled Claire?"
"No son," I say.

"Okay it was me," he says apologetically.

I laugh a little on the inside, because laughing on the outside hurts.
"Don't do that again," I told him.
"I won't mom, I won't."

And don't worry, I didn't break my sternum, just a deep bruise. I should be back to normal in about 6 weeks. Hopefully.

Fastball to the head

Why is it that when you have a child and they are all tiny and new, all you can do is be amazed by the way they progress?

Look at the way she smiled at me!
Did you see him roll from his back to his tummy?
Woohoo! She's finally crawling!

As they get older you celebrate these little milestones with enthusiasm, pictures, and phone calls to relatives.

He learned how to ride his bike today!
She wrote her name all by herself!
He hit that golf ball square through that top window! Amazing!

If for some reason they are not moving along as you feel they should, or as the other kids are, you worry.

So when do you think she'll get a tooth? She is 8 months.
Is it normal for him to not talk at all?
Will she ever learn how to use the potty?

And it just gets worse as they get older.

Yes, I understand she needs speech therapy.
No, I can't understand what he just said either.
You mean another one needs speech too?!

And you look at their friends and judge how they compare with each other.

She's the best student in her class, and the youngest!
His social skills are not anywhere near the other kids in Sunbeams.
Will he ever catch a ball?

And pretty soon, you're sitting on a chair, out in the cold evening air, clenching your fists because he's up to bat, and he hasn't hit a ball yet, and you really can't even look. Then

BAM!

He gets hit on the helmet with a fastball and falls to the ground. And you jump up and throw your baby to the nearest adult and rush to the fence, ready to take him into your arms and wipe his tears with your shirt.

Only you watch him get up, shake it off, and take his base.

And you realize that he doesn't need his mom anymore to make it better.
And that he doesn't want the other kids to see him cry.
And that he suddenly seems more grown up than you can recall him ever being.

Worst.......Parents.........Ever.......

We are absolutely the worst scouting parents on the face of the earth.

We stayed up super late the night before his 9th birthday trying to finish his Beaver, or Wolf, or whatever animal you're supposed to get when you are 8. We've started many projects that haven't been finished, ie. the newspaper recycling, the chore chart. But this one takes the cake.

He recieved his pinewood derby box about 2 months ago. Right away he wanted to work on it. Sure, sure, not right now though.

That is what we told him every time. The derby got moved back, then it was conference. Last Wednesday I called his leader about where scouts was to be held.

Not this week, she said, because of the pinewood derby on Saturday.

Holy Crap!! It's on Saturday!

Mike! It's on Saturday! Oh no! Mike has to work late every night!

It was up to me. And Chance wanted a rocket car. Exactly how do you make a block of wood pointy and round with a miter saw??

Two mutilated car kits later and it was Friday night, and there was no rocket car.

Dang.

So I told Chance that we were going to have to use his car from last year (the car we cut and painted the night before). We'd paint it a new color, though, that's cool right? It's okay right? Don't tell anyone about this, okay?

So he raced his old car.

And won 2nd place.

Next year he wants to use the same car.

Just paint it a different color.

Thank goodness.

Big Brother

I was driving the other day and the little babe was positive she didn't want to be in the car. As we were miles from home, there was nothing to do but let her cry it out.

After about 10 minutes of this she stopped. Assuming she went to sleep, I asked Cannon, who sits next to her, if she was asleep. He said no.

Odd, I thought. It's unusual for her to just stop crying for no good reason.

I turned around to look and saw this. He was holding her hand and she was wide awake, looking up at him with her big brown eyes.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda

A brother I have told me that he will never have a game system in his home because he doesn't want his kids to be freakshows about it like mine are. I too recall saying those exact same words. Here's a list of things I said I'd never do but have caved on:

• Buying a game system-although it was grandma who bought it, we have updated the games and allowed the playing to happen
• Letting the kids watch too much tv-somedays, not everyday. Discovery Channel's educational so it's okay, right?
• Making them sit in a carseat past the required age of 5-I didn't realize how embarassing it was for little kids to have to sit in a booster
• Saying "Because I said so"-quickest way to end an argument is by exerting the mom-authority
• Letting the kids figure out their own problems with each other-I always thought I'd make a great mediator, making sure the fair punishment was dealt to the proper perpetrator. Yeah okay.
• Letting the babies cry it out-I fix what I can, and accept that sometimes babies, just like us, need a good cry
• Having a messy house-this is one I struggle with, because I really, Really, like a perfectly clean home. Oh for more time in the day, or a maid who worked for M 'n' M's.
• Cooking a healthy vegetable laden dinner every night-more often than I like to admit we eat cereal, which my kids love. Who knew?
• Buying cheap kids clothing-how I loved dressing my children in adorable expensive outfits, only to see them ruined a day later from the mud, or ketchup. For that, we shop at Target.
• Driving a minivan-oh for the coolness of an suv, never thought I'd be a minivan girl. If gas were cheaper or I lived closer to civilization...

I guess what I'm trying to say is that before children came into my life, I had visions of what it would entail, how I'd be the best mom who never lost her patience, who always had cookies in the oven, who was fun and happy, basically the coolest mom in the hood. 4 children and a dose of reality later, I've realized that the mom I've become was not the one I envisioned. Am I okay with that? Sometimes. I'm not giving up, though. Someday, we will have a clean house and a real dinner everyday. Maybe I'll start by hiding the gamesystem.

Brandon

Chance was so excited that he finally found this picture he drew of his Aunt Beka's friend, Brandon. It was dated November 28, 2004 when Chance was almost 7 years old. I think we meant to send it to Brandon on his mission but somehow lost it. So here you go. I think it looks just like Uncle Brandon, don't you?

Lucky

Yesterday was my day to take the kids to school, and my friend brought them home. As the kids walk in the door, Chance is mad, Emme's on the verge of tears, and my friend is standing in my doorway. Apparently, Chance and his friend were throwing rocks while they waited for their ride. And apparently they were trying to hit a sign. And apparently Chance hit a car windshield. Now Emme took it upon herself to tell the aide what Chance had done. And the aide told the principal. And I was to get a phone call. Okay, I say, great.
When I ask Chance about it, he's adamant that he didn't mean to hit the car, totally missing the point that throwing rocks at school is against the law, playground law that is. When I ask Emme why she told on him, tears well up and she says "because throwing rocks is wrong, and am I in trouble?" No of course not, throwing rocks is wrong, but come on, is tattling okay?
So today I get my phone call from the principal. Chance is suspended for today, the punishment all delinquent rock-throwers get. I'm not sure how effective getting to come home from school and read books all day is as a punishment, but okay.
When I ask him later about what him and the principal talked about, he explained to me that he told him what happened. At least he's honest, right? When I asked him what the principal said, he told me that the principal called him lucky, because he could've broken the windshield of the car. Chance said back to him in a cheerful voice, "Yeah I was lucky! Because I don't have any money right now and I couldn't have paid for it!" Always an optimist.
By the way, his consequence for getting suspended is picking up rocks in the backyard, so we didn't let him off scott free. How did Mom ever put up with Mike and all the terrible things he did that warrented phone calls from the principal?

The Lake

We went camping over Spring Break up to Canyon Lake. It was beautiful, not too hot, not too cold. The kids played in the lake, caught tiny fish, and enjoyed the company of friends who went with us. All in all it was a good time.
It reminded me of the first time I saw Canyon Lake, a lake I didn't even know existed until I was 19 years old. My then boyfriend wanted to take me up to Tortilla Flats for lunch. I hadn't heard of it, but thought it might be interesting to visit an old west town, seeing as I had lived in Arizona my whole life and had never seen one.
I rode on the back of his motorcycle driving down the 60, going so fast I feared for my life. He says he was doing the speed limit, but on the back of a bike with nothing to hang onto but him, it felt like 100.
We took the exit to Apache Junction, the furthest east I had ever been besides my Grandma's house. As we entered the Tonto National Forest, the road started to get steep and curvy. He said this was the best part of the ride, leaning from side to side on his bike going up and down the mountain's edge. At least he wasn't driving fast, I thought. I remember hiding my head in the back of his black leather jacket, not wanting to look at the oncoming traffic that veered so eerily close to us.
We came up to the top of a mountain and that's when I saw it. A lake in the middle of the desert! I asked him later about it, couldn't believe I didn't know about it. There were boaters, fishers, skiiers, tanners. All these people who had discovered this little enclave. I felt like I had been missing out on something fabulous my entire life.
We drove past it to the restaurant. We had lunch, and I remember he left a big tip. He loved this little place, and I figured out a lot about him that day. He liked the old west, motorcycle rides, impressing his lady, and me holding on to him.
He's brought me back to the lake a few times since. And I realized I had been missing out on something fabulous, but it wasn't the lake. It was him.

Decorating on a budget

My most favorite new decoration is my lettering on glass. My friend Susie makes the lettering, you can see her stuff here. I took an old frame and hot glued the glass in. The lettering comes in one piece and was super simple to apply. It says "Search diligently, pray always and be believing and all things shall work together for your good". I think it's our new family motto. I also got the star at Home Goods, which my husband says screams Texas to him.
Most awesome deal! This couch was donated to us by some neighbors and is a very Santa Fe hunter green and teal and red. Which explains the slipcover. I found this at Target for $25, 75% off the original price. It is brown microfiber and comes in two pieces, one for the cushions and one for the couch. Now I don't need new furniture, at least anytime soon. The pillows came from Kirklands at $6.99, the only thing I've ever bought there.

These window treatments are sheers that I bought months ago on clearance at Linens n Things for $9.00 each. I am having a hard time deciding what to do with them. I have three windows in my family room and each one looks like this. All I did was screw in hooks and drape them on. Not sure I like it, but it works for now.
Modge podge is my new favorite crafting technique. I got these letters at Michaels and decoupaged the scrapbook paper on. I love the way they look, but am having a hard time finding a place to put them. For now, they are above my cabinets in the kitchen, leaning against wine glasses.
Oh, for natural lighting in my bathroom like Beka has! I am really liking how this is coming together. The picture I bought at Home Goods and it has a bluish vase and white orchids with deep red in them. The two frames I bought clearanced at Target for $3.50, and say Powder and Room, scrapbooked on blue and deep red paper. All are in black frames. I can't wait to paint the walls khaki and add a black iron wine rack to hold rolled up towels.

This is what I've been up to for the past few days. Not done yet, and I'm still in the mood to add. Can't wait to see the finished product, a completely decorated house. And maybe a finished backyard.

Mistaken Identity

A funny thing happened last night.

I was upstairs feeding the babe, and the other kids were downstairs watching the Mythbusters try to fly using a piece of plywood. I admit that I was upstairs watching the same thing, but I digress.
Anyways, I called down to see where everyone was, as the tiniest was taking her sweet time to eat. Everyone is on the couch, Cannon's asleep. Cool, only two to feed ice cream to, I'll be down in a sec to dish it out.
I come down and see a little man missing.
Where's Cannon, I ask.
Um...he was here a second ago.
I start looking for him, checking the front room, bathroom, until I find him in the laundry room, curled up on a pile of clean towels, feet wedged against the garage door.
Hmmm...odd place to get up and go to sleep, but okay. Maybe he was going out to the car to get his blanket.
When I bend down to pick him up I notice that things are wet, the towels imparticularly.
Oh no, he had an accident.
But then I realize that his pants aren't wet. How is that possible?
And then I figure it out.
He had mistaken the laundry room for the bathroom, pulled down his pants, and peed all over my washer and dryer, completely asleep. And then he layed down on top of the clean towels as they soaked up the mess.
How does one mistake a washing machine for a toilet? We laughed about this for a while.

Luau

So we went to a Blue and Gold Banquet a few weeks ago. For all the uninitiated, that's a scouting thing. And not being one to look forward to church food, I ate before we left.
However...
They were serving Hawaiian Haystacks, which I've had before but never like this.
They used a sauce made from dry italian dressing and cream cheese and cream of chicken, which I couldn't have but I had made before so I knew what it tasted like. It's basically Liz's crockpot cream cheese chicken.
But the killer part was the toppings. My favorites were:

• Red peppers
• Green onions
• Coconut
• Pineapple
• Slivered Almonds
• Cheese

All of this over rice. I know this sounds like an awfully simple thing, but I have been craving it ever since. So last night I made it for my family. And it was delicious, even if Em and I were the only ones eating it. It meant leftovers for lunch. Mmmm...

Back to the Blue and Gold, they had an elder from Samoa, I think, in our area. He got up on stage and did what one could only call a modern version of traditional dance. The music he was dancing to was almost techno-like. It was quite funny, but the best part came after he was done. He got his two companions, two of the whitest boys I've ever seen come out of Idaho, up on stage and they danced with him. It looked like they had practiced beforehad, as the two elders were trying their best to keep up their moves. It was a complete lack of rhthym. And the music was sooo loud, it even got the stake out of their offices to come watch. The whole building was there to see these elders. And the best part was the samoan elder, didn't want to stop. They had to tell him enough after like 15 minutes. I'm not sure if the scouts appreciated it, but the rest of us did.

Can you imagine the memories those two elders will have of their mission? "Well son, on my mission, we took the stage at a rockin' Blue and Gold and shook our moneymakers for the Stake President."

Chicken enchiladas, salad, cherry cobbler

The lesson yesterday was on gaining a testimony in personal revelation. It got me thinking back to a few years ago.
At the time I was feeling very service oriented, and found myself volunteering quite often. One blessing I received from this was the ability to sometimes discern when others were in need. However, I was not always so quick to make those out of the blue calls. I was paralyzed by my own doubt, did that person really need something, or was it just one of my own passing thoughts? What if I call and they don't need anything? How embarassing!
One such day I woke up and felt almost right away that I needed to make two dinners. This was not just a whim, but a very strong impression. I didn't have much in the way of food, so off to the store I went. I wasn't sure who was going to need it, or what they would like, so I bought stuff I wanted to eat, just double. I was amazed, and very proud of myself for listening to and following up on a prompting.
I came home and began preparing midafternoon, hoping to get the phone call that someone needed this food. No phone call came. I went through a short list of close friends that I called, checking to see if they were alright, seeing if they needed dinner. No such luck. I prayed, and a person came into my head.
No, I thought, it can't be her. Yes she did just have a baby, but her mom was there, taking care of her and the baby. Plus she had her husband home. I was sure they didn't need it.
But the feeling didn't leave.
I was hoping that, miraculously, someone at her house would know I had this food, call me and ask me to bring it over. I even picked up the phone a few times, starting to call her, but I always hung up before I finished dialing.
It was soon too late. Dinner time was over and I hadn't taken all of this food anywhere. I ended up giving it to a friend, who didn't really need it, but accepted it nonetheless. And I felt like maybe I had misunderstood my impression, maybe it wasn't the spirit but my own imagination.
A few days later I called the person who had just had the baby. Turns out she had gotten a really bad infection, and her mom and husband had the flu. And the worst day of it all was the day I had made an extra dinner, but didn't take it.
Here I had her dinner, and I had felt too embarassed to even call to check up on her.
I wish I could say that from that day on I never slacked on an impression again, but I don't think I can. I find myself still doubting my ability to receive revelation, still wondering if it's all in my head. But I am getting better.
And I know the next time I make two dinners, I will call. Because I know that the worst thing that can happen is missing out on an opportunity to be the answer to someones prayers.

Family

This is my all time favorite family picture. There's not much in the way of competition, as we haven't had one taken in years. In fact the last one was before Cannon was born 5 years ago. But even so, this picture captures the essence of my family.

It was a ridiculously cold morning, the first day of the new year. The kids were freezing and I of course, forgot to bring coats. So we sat in the car and waited for our turn. Getting the little ones to smile was a trial. Cannon was done after a couple minutes, his hands in his pockets, looking down, not wanting to smile, shivering. I kept wrapping up Claire in her blanket in between poses, her fingers turning blue. Chance had his fake Grandpa Fuller smile going on, while Emme played up to the crowd.

When I was growing up we used to have a family picture taken every year. Every year we would pile in the car and head out to Sears to be immortalized with bad hair. When I was very little, I remember we would go to Bob's Big Boy afterwards. It was quite a treat, as we hardly ever went out to eat. I don't know how my mom did it, with all those kids to get picture ready. But I understand why. And I wish I had more family pictures.

Sassy

Before

So I got a haircut.

The kids

Because I haven't in a while, I thought I'd post some pics.

Point

The professor has this uncanny ability to embarass me, just by being his normal self. I should accept this, and not let his actions worry me, and yet every time it happens, I want to shout, "He's not mine! I will not claim him!"
Yesterday was one such day.
About 2 hours before church he gets the call. No teacher for one of the youth Sunday School class. As is Mike's calling, he steps up and prepares the lesson. No big deal, although he did try to pawn it off on me. Yeah right, I say, I have enough to do.
So church comes and off to class everyone scampers as soon as the last note is sung for our dismissal hymn.
I had many copies to make and am hanging out in the library, I know, missing my own SS lesson! What an example.
In walks the professor.
"Is it time to change already?" Asks the librarian.
"No, I left", he replies.
"Ha ha ha," I nervously laugh, "Did your lesson go short?"
"No, I left, they were out of control and I left," he answers.
Oh crap, I think. Are you kidding me? All of the worst case scenarios run through my head.
Parents angry, kids upset, bishop throwing us out of church, telling us never to come back.
The professor doesn't want to talk about it. I make a quick exit and head to RS, curious as all get out as to what happened. Embarassed that the librarian heard.
On the drive home I pester him. What did you SAY?! What did you DO?!

Now I must remind you that his profession is TEACHING. He spent two years on a reservation middle school teaching science to gangbangers! He's not a wuss, and can handle pretty much anything in a classroom.

Apparently he pulled out all his tricks. And nothing doing. So he wanted to prove a point. He slowly packed up his bags, told them not to disturb the other classes, and left.
Okay, I say. It's not as terrible as I suspected. Just an attention getter. They were only in there by themselves for 5 minutes. He stood outside the door. No big deal.

And then the phone calls start.

A parent wanting to know what he can do to help.
One of the kids apologizing.
Cookies and a written apology from another.

Someone asks us about it at a friends house for dinner. This is, apparently, big news. It seems the whole ward knows. By the next morning, the story is retold to me, although it's a female teacher and she was crying.

And I'm mortified.

30

It seems that everytime I step away from the computer, I come up with fabulous ideas for posts. But as soon as I sit in front of my screen, my mind is a blank. Isn't memory loss the first thing to go? Speaking of age, I spent the morning with girls in their early 20's, cute girls with no wrinkles and not one single strand of grey. As I wistfully admired them, one of them said that she couldn't wait to be older. What for, I thought? But as I pondered that statement, I decided that being in my early 30's has its rewards. And here they are:

Reasons I like being 30

• I am already done having children
• I don't worry about what other people think of me, mostly
• I can buy clothes that are comfortable, usually in the missus department
• I don't always have to have my hair and makeup done, in fact I hardly ever do
• I can drive a minivan without shame
• My husband is done with school and has a real job (the college, not the pizza)
• I have been through enough rocky spots in my marriage to appreciate the smooth sailing
• I don't worry about needing a tan, and try to prevent it at all costs
• It's normal for someone of my age to have hips, and saggy boobs, and saddlebags
• I can buy clothes for my kids at Target instead of Baby Gap without feeling guilty
• I can go to bed early and wake up early without missing anything
• This is the age my children will remember me as

I'm sure I could think of more if given more time. I'm excited for my 30's, excited to appreciate all life has to offer for this next decade. Besides, it's not like I'm 40.

Grand Canyon

I have this friend. She's a good friend, one of my dearest friends. We've been friends for what seems like forever. We are very different, in almost every aspect of our lives, and yet we remain friends. And now she's going through a hard time, probably one of the hardest of her life. She's on the verge of making a choice, a decision that will affect her entire life. And I can't do anything about it. Except be there for her when she wants to talk, and hope and pray that I can say something that will help. But I think she really just needs someone to listen.

We've all been there, at one time or another. Trials come as canyons in the middle of our journey, seemingly impossible to conquer, at yet, you can see the path on the other side. There is no way to get there besides taking it one step at a time, down into the canyon and then back up again, until finally you look back and realize you've made it.

I think about my trials. The ones that I've clawed my way out of, the ones I am down in the middle of. I know I have many more in store for me, waiting for a time when the journey is easy and life is good, to hit me dead on. The only way to get through, the only way I find peace, is to pray. Reassurance comes, not that everything will be fixed and not even that everything will be fine, but reassurance that I can handle it, that I'm strong enough or I will be made strong enough. And that comfort is how I've learned to deal.

I prayed for my friend, still am. And already prayers are being answered. And she recognizes it, and she is comforted.

Umm...Excuse you!

There's nothing like having a new baby in the house to remind you of how tiny, sweet, and innocent your other children once were. I've found that I remember some things about their babyhood that I had completely forgotten, while I struggle to remember others. Especially when Claire does something cute and they ask, "Did I do that when I was a baby?" Oftentimes the on-the-spot answer is at best a guess, because I know somebody did it, I just can't remember who.
I also love how sweet and tender it has made them towards her. They all vie for her attention because they want to be the one to make her smile and laugh. They want to be the one to calm her down. They want to be the one she loves the most. I remind them that she can't play favorites, that she loves us all the same, unconditionaly.
But I've found that they really want to be the person that gets her to burp. I thought this was just another one of their ways to love on her, but it turns out it's because they think her burps are hilarious. Not only is Claire the only person in the house allowed to burp as loud as she wants, which is quite funny to them, but she also usually has some sort of gross spit up that follows. And that's what really kills them. "Wow mom! Did you hear that one? That one was sooo loud, and look, she spit everywhere! giggle giggle Claire is so great!"

I'm going on a picnic, and I'm taking an Apple...

As the professor turns into the pizza man every Thur, Fri, and Sat evening, it leaves me with lots of dinners alone with the kids, because he's teaching on Mon and Wed evenings as well. On weekdays I'll actually make something, knowing that my picky boys won't eat it, so that dad has lunch to take with him the following day. As frustrating as it is to cook and have half the table turn up their noses, I know my dearest appreciates it.
Now on the weekends, my pizza man comes home with his own dinner, usually pizza and wings. So these are the nights the kids have cereal, or hot dogs, or grilled cheese. The boys look forward to these nights, loving the fact that they get to eat their favorite foods and not have to try any of that gross food I make.
Yesterday the princess asked if we could have a picnic lunch inside the house. Since dad was home, I had an excuse to make a big lunch. We were going to eat fajitas, mmm. She wanted to eat them on a blanket on the floor of the family room. Bad idea. But I told her we would have a picnic dinner.
Dinner time comes and she reminds me that I said we would have a picnic. Oh right, I remember. Hmmm. What can we eat on the floor that I won't have to use a mop to clean up? I break out the crackers. Then I get out some cheese, sliced american, pieces of cheddar, and string, because no one child likes the same kind. I cut up an apple and a pear. I wash some grapes. A few slices of bread are added, along with the jar of peanut butter. And there you go, dinner. The princess wants to make Kool-aid. I cringe, but she finds the sugar free kind. At least if it spills, it won't be sticky.
We all sit down on the blanket. She has set plastic utensils and tiny paper plates and tiny paper cups. All the food is on a platter, so the kids dive right in. Cheese and apples are great. We make grape sandwiches. Peanut butter gets put on crackers, and on apples, and is eaten by spoonfuls. We play the "I'm going on a picnic and I'm going to take an Apple... " game and get all the way up to Q. It was the most fun picnic we've had in a long time. And the princess is so happy.
For dessert I make pumpkin pie shakes. Here's the recipe, but be careful, because they are delicious. My kids loved them.

1 package pumpkin spice pudding (it's new from Jello)
2 cups milk
Vanilla ice cream
more milk
whipped cream

Prepare pudding with 2 cups milk according to directions and let chill until set, about 10 minutes. Put in blender along with lots of ice cream and more milk. Blend adding milk until it reaches a desire consistancy. Top with whipped cream.

The desk

I am really starting to hate my blog. I've been messing with the template, hoping to find the excitement that comes with change. But everytime I log on nowadays, I loathe the way it looks, the words I've written, the vibe that radiates from it. I want to quit the blog.

However, I know you people, all 6 of you that read this drivel. I know how blog-esque you all are. I know you might shed a small tear if I were to give it up. So I shall tarry on, for you.

The princess and I finished her desk. It turned out way cute, although a tad different than I had imagined. When I explained the project to her, she was so excited to help as she's super crafty. I told her we were going to cut up pieces of scrapbook paper and glue them down to the top of her desk. Simple. Well we sit down with the scissors and both start cutting. I look up from my pile of nice large geometric shapes, and see her pile. She's cutting out tiny pieces of paper in odd shapes. I stop her and explain how if we do it that way, it will take forever and waste lots of paper, and ask her to try to cut bigger pieces. She does this and pretty soon we both are ready to glue. She takes one corner, I take the other. After I had shown her how to do it, I let her go. A few minutes later I look at what she's doing. She was doing it all wrong. I stop her and show her how to make sure the pieces touch, and to not leave big spaces of desk in between. She gets frustrated, asking why she can't just do it her way. Why can't she? Why is my way the better way? I don't have an answer to that.

So we finish it, and I let her do what she wants to do, not trying to fix anything to make it perfect. And it turned out awesome.

Languages

I read through that last post and decided it was a bit whiny. My posts as of late have pretty much sucked. Sorry.

I had a friend tell me a while ago about love languages. This book is about the five different ways people speak love. Click here to learn about them and discover your own love language.

Anyways, it came as no surprise that my husband and I have different languages. This was something I learned early on. I speak two languages. I am definitely a "Words of Affirmation". This means I actually need to hear words spoken to me, telling me I am loved, appreciated, lookin' good. I am also a little"Physical Touch". Don't get the wrong idea people, it also means that I know I am loved when someone hugs me, holds my hand, rubs my back.

My dearest is entirely an "Acts of Service". He feels loved when I clean the bathroom, or put away the laundry, or clean the stove. In fact, he has said many times over the years that actions speak louder than words.

Now think about how hard it is for two people to show love or feel loved, when one person says "I love you", and all the other person does is wash the dishes. The author likens it to one person speaking English and the other Chinese. You just don't understand each other. Thank goodness we've figured each other out. We aren't perfect and have our miscommunications, but I think we are much better at expressing our feelings and making sure to understand when the other is as well.

What's your love language?

Roses

We had a great Valentine's dinner yesterday, a day early since the professor will be teaching tonight. I made a turkey, one of his favorites, and we ate by candlelight, all six of us. It was quite funny because the turkey was done way sooner than I had expected, so we had to close all the blinds in order to experience the candles. Afterwards we had FHE and we made secret valentines for each other that said one thing we loved about them on it. It was fun to wake up this morning and have the kids scrambling to pass them out with eager excitement at 5:30am.

Now you might think, aww, what a cute way to spend the holiday. And it was. But part of me is wishing I hadn't told my husband not to worry about getting me anything or doing anything. I won't be disappointed, because we're a little beyond that point in our marriage. There used to be a time when I would expect some sort of lavish display of his affection. Now I know he loves me, even without the jewelry and cards and fancy dinners at expensive restaurants.

But I love flowers, as impractical as they are. I love how they look on my table, especially red roses in a tall vase. I love the fragrance that fills my home. I might just go out and buy some for myself. Or maybe I'll tell him they're for him, from me. The best part is, he'd understand.

Epiphany

Wow, that last post was a bit ridiculous. Who wants to read something that long?

I had what I like to call an epiphany, although I'm sure it was more of just an eye-opening experience. I've always been not super great at meeting new people. I am too worried about how others will perceive my intentions, like they'll think, why is she talking to me? And I also worry about what others will think of me, big surprise there huh mom?
These last few weeks at church since I was called into the Relief Society, I have had to greet many of the sisters in the ward to hand out items. I've poured over the pictures we have of all of them and have found I now know most of their names. As I've had to actually talk to them, and get to know them, I've realized how amazingly nice they are. And how not one person has been stand-offish or rude. What was I afraid of all those years? Why did I hide myself in corners, waiting for someone to rescue me from my self-imposed isolation?
The epiphany though, was that I finally realized, most of these women probably have those same feelings. And most of them are like me, waiting for someone to acknowledge them. Waiting for someone to choose them to be their friend. While I've found that they are not nearly as crippled with self-doubt as I am, they still have insecurities. It still feels like high school to some of us, walking into a class waiting for someone to say, hey come sit by me. Finally, out of necessity, I'm becoming that person.

Overflowing with ideas

I go through these phases of home improvement. When we first moved in I couldn't wait to get going. After about a year, and a total lack of funds, the feeling passed. Now I'm ready again. I have so many good ideas, or at least ideas I can work with.
They are:

• The previously mentioned clothesline art for the girls room.(see below)
• We received a hand-me-down fold-up desk, which I will be using for my crafts. It is replacing the hand-me-down desk from my sis. The old desk is going in the girls room and is getting modgepodged with scrapbook paper on the top, to cover all the ugly. I can't wait to make it pretty, and Em is pretty excited to help.
• For my stairwell, I will be purchasing a long curtain rod. On the rod I will hang frames of various shapes, probably bought at thrift stores and spray painted all one color. The frames will be glued to ribbon which will be tied to the rod. Imagine, the rod will be hung high and the ribbon will be getting shorter as you go up the stairs. This is going to be cool to see.
• I purchased a while back some sheers that I wanted to use in my family room. I finally figured out how I want to use them. I will be making valances by folding the sheer 4 times and sewing a strip of colored fabric at the top. I will then staple it to a board, like all my other valances.
• I will be using the original fabric I bought for the family room in my loft to make a valance. Finally, I have a color theme for the loft. It is red. Are you surprised Beka?
• I will be making a magnet board out of a gigantic frame that I will be spray painting. I know exactly where I will hang it, where currently there is a Greg Olsen picture. That picture will be moving to the living room.
• I will be making a lettering sign by taking a large frame and removing the back. I will then hot glue the glass to the frame and then apply the lettering. It will be something Mormon style, like "There is beauty all around... when there's love at home" This will go in the living room.
• I will buy small pieces of fabric and stretch them over canvas to create art. This will go in my bedroom. And possibly the boys. And the girls.
• I will be getting large wooden letters that say SCOTT and hang them in my kitchen area, above my two shelves of kid pictures and a different Greg Olsen.
• I will use all the other Greg Olsen pictures that I have and hang them in a collage in the loft.
• I will be buying the pot rack at IKEA for $19.99. I will then hang it above my island in the kitchen and I will hang mason jars attached to wire from it. The mason jars will hold various things that I haven't decided yet. Possibly candles, maybe utensils, or even plants. The reason for the mason jars is because I don't own any nice pots to hang from it, but I've always wanted a pot rack.
• I will be painting the kids rooms. One will be pink and yellow and the other will be tan and blue and red.

These are my ideas for now. Notice that not much is needed in the way of funds, most of it I already have. I just haven't been all that inspired. But after reading some great blogs this week, and visiting some pretty cool houses, I'm ready to get going. Hopefully my enthusiasm will last until I finish adding to my Mormon Style home, although I prefer to think of it as "Mormon Cool". I'll post pictures as I finish projects so you all will be inspired as well.

Words not said

I remember, perhaps more vividly than anything else in regards to my early years, how good my mom was at taking care of me when I was sick. I remember how worried she would look when I told her I didn't feel well, how urgently she would talk to the doctor about my symptoms, how no matter what time of night it was she was always there, usually with a wet washcloth. She had this nurturing instinct kick in and take over until we were better enough to drive her crazy again. (Not to say the nurturing wasn't there always, it just came on more strongly during illness, right mom? :)

After I got married, I missed her terribly when I was sick. No matter how hard he tried, my dear husband was just not that good at nursing me back to health, and I'm not sure how hard he tried. He would get pretty discouraged when I called my mom right as soon as I felt a twinge of sick. What's she going to do when she's TWO HOURS away? he would ask.

And it wasn't what she did that I craved. It was that deep rooted sympathy I was in need of. She would listen as I rattled off my symptoms. She would offer her advice, which usually included ibuprofen, a call to the doctor, and a blessing. Then she always said something to the effect of, "Poor baby, I'm sorry you're sick" and that was all I really wanted.

As I sit here and nurse my own brood, I hope they feel that way about me. I hope they will call me 20 years from now, when they have a life or a family of their own, just to hear me say "I'm so sorry you're sick." And I hope they know that means "I love you".

Come see the mom who is in way over her head!

I will risk stealing Liz's blog topic of urgent care to share this story:

Yesterday Em came home from school sobbing. Not normal crying, but uncontrollable, shaking, tears running down her face like rain, sobbing. Her ear is causing her excruciating pain. Being the tough love mom that I am, I tell her to lie down and get her Motrin. Then I go back to caring for the boys who have been down with the flu for 2 days. I go upstairs to check email, take a phone call, feed a baby. All this and she's still crying, loudly, unrelenting. It's been an hour and the ibuprofen should've taken effect. I try to get an appointment at the doctor, but the soonest they can see me is tomorrow. I sigh, and pack up the fam for a trip to the urgent care, because Mike is at work. Both boys fevers are raging, so bad they can't even stand. I throw the bottle of Motrin in the car and off we go.

To the urgent care, whose waiting room is PACKED. Oh man. I corral them to the check in, trying to get the boys to cover their mouths as they cough and sneeze all over the place. I'm holding Em on one knee, the babe on the other, trying to answer questions about my insurance. We get taken back to triage after a few minutes. Em is still crying and the boys look like death, ibuprofen isn't working yet. The nurse tells me it's a TWO HOUR WAIT to see the doctor. She wants to give Em some tylenol with codine, and I agree. Then we try to get her to take it. She doesn't want to, it tastes yucky, it's going to make her throw up. The babe picks this moment to poop everywhere. The nurse takes the babe, hands me the meds. I try pouring it down her throat, she spits it into a cup. I try to get her to drink it fast, she spits it on the table, cries, wants to go home. The nurse leaves with my baby to get a soda for Em, the boys are whimpering. We mix the meds with ginger ale and it goes down. I change the baby, and head back out to the waiting room, where by this point there are no chairs left to sit in. I stand there with my four children for a moment, and walk out the door. I am no longer tough mom who can handle anything. I need my husband. Lucky for me, he gets off early. The next couple hours are spent in an overcrowded room full of sick people, with a dear daughter who is loopy from narcotics. I laughed today when I retold this story. Today it is much funnier, if you just picture it in your head.
But I still can't wait for spring.

Clothesline art

I saw this idea yesterday when I clicked on a different link on someone's blog and came across martha stewart. I love this! What a fun idea for a child who is constantly producing new art. The best part is you can customize it to match the room. I am going to use a 1 1/2 inch thick grosgrain ribbon in a polka dot or stripe, which I just saw yesterday at costco for 6.99 for 50 yards. The tiny clothespins are found at a scrapbook store, or Michaels or Joanne's. I will only be using one wall instead of going around the whole room, like in the picture. I can't wait to buy my sweet daughter art supplies that will match her room so that the art she produces will look like it was meant to be there.

Food

I was unsure what to make for dinner tonight. I had planned something, but was running out of time and settled on a concoction my mother used to make. Now, there are a few things that I remember vividly from my childhood. One is being sat on by an unnamed older brother and having typewriter drilled into my sternum. Another is the fork incident which is, thanks to another brother, being laughed about by my husbands colleagues. And of course the football in the house game which a different brother can't seem to forget.

But besides the isolated events that occurred, there are certain foods that remind me of my childhood. I'm not sure if it's because we always ate the same things, or if these were just the ones that I relished. So here's the list. Feel free to add to it.

• Shepherd's pie
• Parmesan chicken-legs and thighs
• Spaghetti
• Lamanite sandwiches
• Grilled cheese sandwiches made from slices of velveeta
• Brownies
• Shake n Bake pork chops
• Tuna casserole-which I remember eating, but not liking
• Campbells Bean with Bacon soup
• Toast with avocado, salt, and pepper
• Tacos
• Rice pudding

Now these were items from my early childhood.

Later on came

• Friday night Pizza Hut
• Chicken enchiladas
• Egg rolls
• Brisket
• Roast
• Brownies

Mmmmm...

Hurt

I hurt all over, and not the good kind of hurt. The kind where you grimmace every time you have to move, the kind where going up and down the stairs takes 10 minutes of excruciating pain. Man, I hurt bad.

Today as I was throwing a little pity party for myself, I realize that my eldest daughter is not her usual self. She has gone back to bed for a nap. Now she has a tendancy to be a tad whiny, so I don't think much of her complaints. Until I feel her warm forehead, and look at her pale face. She wants to nap again, after dropping out of the game of Life with her dad and brother. Now I know something is wrong. She never quits boardgames, especially when she's winning.

I'm thinking the flu, but hoping for a non-transmittable virus. I get her some applesauce, a blanket, and a bottle of water. She won't take any ibuprofin. She naps, wakes up hurting all over, crying. She takes the ibuprofin this time. Naps again. Wants to eat, I discourage it, not wanting to clean up regurgitated nachos. She takes a bath, and goes to bed, achy and exhausted.

What a whiner I am. Here I've been complaining about pain I've inflicted upon myself, while her little body is battling what most likely is the flu. Suddenly, I don't hurt as much, I don't feel as sorry for myself for running poorly. Suddenly I'm praying for her to feel better, and to not have a house full of sickos this week.

What are the odds?

Hope

I wanted to quit running today, and I mean give up the sport entirely. I don't believe I have ever had such a ridiculously hard run. It was only a half marathon, but felt like a full.

I know started a little too fast, but I felt good so I thought I would try to maintain it. As the mile markers seemed to be farther and farther apart, I was rethinking my strategy, which up to this point was run hard for as long as I can. My body was screaming for me to stop by mile 10. I looked at my watch and I was still running 9's, but I knew I was slowing. I stopped to walk, something I NEVER do, not even when I ran the marathon. I ran slower and slower, taking more and more walk breaks. Soon people were passing me, people I had passed a while back had caught me, and seemed to effortlessly fly by, and the wierd thing was I didn't care. Usually that would push me to run harder, to try and catch them, or at least not let anyone else by. This time I hardly noticed them. I just wanted to cry, by body hurt so bad. Then I wanted to stop. Just stop running and sit down and wait for someone to take me home.

How did I get myself into this? How can I get out of this? I just had a baby, what the heck am I doing out here? I should be home, I want to be home!

As I rounded the corner for the final sprint to the finish line, I was so relieved. I made it. I didn't think I would. And there were my children, and my athletic spectator of a husband, waiting for me, cheering for me.

I know it was just a bad run. People have them. And while I wanted to quit SO BAD, I was so happy I didn't. I can't wait to tell my littlest baby how I ran 13.1 miles when she was 3 months old. Hopefully all my children will look at me when life is hard, and say, If you can do it, then I know I can too. I hope.

Oh, and I ran a 2:11.

Superpower

My eldest has this uncanny ability to put my baby to sleep, or at least calm her down. I can sit and bounce, rock, pat til my wits end, but he takes her and within seconds she's settled down and resting peacefully in his arms. Now you might be saying to yourself, awww, how sweet, which it most certainly is. However, how's it going to look on his transcripts when it shows that he's been absent most of the year because I kept him home to hold the babe?

Almost useless

My oldest child asked me yesterday to help him with his math homework. I go over to the book to look at it. This is what it was:

27 divided by 3 squared is greaterthan/less than/equal to 27 divided by square root of 9

Luckily I remember square roots and ask the questions necessary for him to be able to figure out this problem.

I look at my husband with eyes of disbelief afterwards. He's almost laughing because he knows, as do I, that pretty soon I will be useless with math homework for him. What's he going to do then? Wait for Dad to come home, that's what.

When did third graders start doing square roots?

Overwhelming urge

I cannot shake it.
I need to clean. Not a pick-up-toys-before-bed kind of clean. Not even a mop-the-floors-because-people-are-coming kind of clean.
This is a bona fide wash-the-windows-and-wipe-the-baseboards-and-take-a-toothbrush-to-the-toilet kind of cleaning urge that has overcome me.
I am at neither end of the spectrum when it comes to my home. We are not slobs, but we aren't spotless either. We have always held onto middle ground. Somewhere around don't-look-in-the-closets.
But now I can't even walk into a room without starting some kind of cleaning or organizing project. Take that pile upstairs, vacuum under that, throw out those. I currently have 5 active projects that I have worked on today. And all I can think about is how long this is taking and how I want it done NOW! Spring cleaning has come early for us. I hope my enthusiasm lasts until I am finished.

Precious

I don't remember much of what was said at church, and I have very few pictures. But I do know with a complete certainty that you were meant to be in our family.

You were perfectly asleep, unlike your brother Cannon who cried during his entire blessing.

I don't remember much of Chance and Emme's blessings. If anyone has any memories they would be willing to share, I'd appreciate it. I've been racking my brain, unable to fathom that it's been so long since they were born that I've lost those memories.

I made Emme's dress, and I remember that we forgot to take pictures of her in it and had to do so a week later. I remember Dad had something wrong with his foot and had to wear Teva's to church. My 500 square foot house was packed with people afterwards, and Chance was running around outside, filthy dirty. Mike and Liz left soon after for New York.

I remember shopping with my mom for an outfit for Chance the day before because I had forgotten to get him anything to wear. He wore the same outfit in the temple a few days later when we were sealed. He cried the whole time on the altar. He was only 4 weeks old.

I remember that Nick left for his mission a few days after we blessed Cannon. It was a great testimony meeting, almost as good as his farewell. I remember Mike and I fought over who was going to take Chance up, because he wanted to go. Mike lost.

I wish many times that I had kept a journal of some sort for the past ten years. There are so many things I have forgotten. Now I can relate to my own mother when she can't remember what happened or to whom it happened to. Apparently, the fogginess of motherhood is genetic.

Tonight we celebrate

A funny thing happened yesterday. I received a phone call from the school, which always makes me worry. It's Em's teacher. She wants to tell me that Emme is student of the month. I smile, knowing how happy Emme will be. She loves this kind of thing, as she's been student of the month before. I can't wait to tell her.
My dearest picks the kids up from school. He walks in and says "Guess what, Chance is student of the month!". I correct him, no it's Emme. No, he says, it's Chance. I, getting a little irritated that the father of my children doesn't know their teachers, insist that he's wrong. Emme's teacher called me, I say, it's for Emme. He looks at me and tells me that after school Chance told him his teacher wanted to see him. He walked into her classroom and she told him that she had chosen Chance as SOTM, and that there would be a ceremony on Tuesday evening. We looked at each other. We realize we have two SOTM and grin.
Now if you're thinking, gosh, you guys are those kind of parents, the kind that aspire to have kids that are SOTM, well then you would be wrong. I always laughed at those bumper stickers that said "My kid beat up your Student of the Month", knowing how dumb the real SOTM stickers were. Don't get me wrong, I want my children to excell, or at least do their best. But the pressure isn't on for awards and such.
However, when someone else realizes that your child is as amazing as you've always thought, well, you can't help but be extremely proud. Almost enough to find room on your bumper for the sticker. Almost.

RB

My running buddy, otherwise known as RB, called in sick today. It doesn't happen often, so when it d0es it leaves me in a quandry. To run or not to run. Hmmm. I am already awake, and I just fed the little bear. I better run. However, it is dark and my ipod is broken. And I hate to run by myself. It's now 2 to 3, not to run. But dang, that race is in less than a month. I fix the ipod and head out.
I used to run by myself all the time. When I first started, I didn't want anyone around when I waddled out the door for a total run of 1/8 of a mile. As I grew stronger and my runs grew longer, I started listening to music to pass the time and help keep up my speed. But I was never very consistent. Some weeks I'd be out on the pavement 4 days, others I'd miss entirely.
I found my first RB in California. She was just as inconsistent as I was when alone, but together, we hardly ever missed a day. We worked in strength training a few days a week and suddenly I was in better shape then I had been my whole life. It lasted less than a year. We moved. I was pregnant. Running went downhill.
I moved again. Looked for a new RB. Ran sometimes. Tried to train for a marathon, but injured myself because of my lack of short runs. Was out for a long time.
I went through a bout of physical therapy and finally felt ready to run again. We were moving, once again, to a new house. I would drop the kids off at school and drive to my soon-to-be neighborhood. I'd check on the house, put the little guy in a jogger, and run the streets.
It was here that she saw me. Sunday came and she asked if it was me out there running. I, embarassed, responded with apologies for her having to see me. I hate when people see me run. No, she said, she wanted to come with. I explained we hadn't moved in yet, but as soon as we did, I'd take her up on it.
We proceeded to not speak for another 4 months.
Finally my DH asked her if she would please run with me, so I would stop complaining about my lack of shape. Apparently we had both been too intimidated by the other to bring it up again. We started with barely a mile. Last year we finished a marathon.
Now some people are so self-motivated, they don't need anyone else to push them. I always have. Would I still run without a RB. Maybe, but it's just better when she's there.

Just say no

I've never been a big fan of taking all my children shopping with me. It usually ends up with children everywhere and me gritting my teeth til we get to the car and I can give them whatfor. In order to avoid this catastrophe, I leave at least some of them home while I get my errands done. Only in an emergency do I venture out with all four. Today was one.
I've put off buying a blessing dress for our littlest, thinking in the back of my mind that I would make one. Yeah, that didn't happen. So here we are two days before and with one day packed full of activities. Dad's at work. Dang. Off we go.
It didn't start off well. The kids were a little testy when we dropped by Grandma's house. Not a good sign. I leave quickly, hoping to avoid any huge meltdowns.
First store. Long line and not much selection, but there is one I would settle for if necessary. I'll come back.
Next store. I leave the kids in the car watching a movie while I run in. Too much selection and ridiculously high prices. It's not a wedding dress, people.
Kids are hungry. Back to the first store to buy the dress. Longer line. Kids come in to wait and touch everything. Please can we buy this, they ask. And this. And this. Please. I don't have the energy to fight. Okay sure. Yeah get one for your brother too. And your sister. Finally it's our turn and we buy the dress.
Now you might be thinking, what kind of parent gives in when their children whine for stuff at the store? Trust me, it's not something I usually do. But I find it hard to say no in the distribution center.
You don't need a picture of the temple in your room.
Or
I don't care if it's 10 cents, we already have enough Jesus pictures.
What kind of good LDS family has enough Jesus pictures? Especially the 10 cent variety. Apparently not ours.

Experience

When you are a new parent for the first time, you have absolutely no clue what you're doing. Or at least I didn't. So you buy parenting books, subscribe to parenting magazines, and watch shows that help navigate the new terrain you've found yourself engulfed in. You can no longer pass by any type of information kid related. Anything to get your baby to a. stop crying, b. sleep through the night, and c. do something that makes him better than all the other kids you know. You learn 20 different ways to sleep train, the best order of solid food introduction, milestones (otherwise known as if-your-child-isn't-doing-these-things-we-need-to-discuss-his-need-for-the-short bus), and all the toys your child needs to be valedictorian of his preschool class. After a while, the books gather dust, subscriptions aren't renewed, and you find yourself watching trashy tv shows again, confident in your now amazing skills as a parent.
Another baby arrives, and you give yourself a quick refresher course, along with buying 3 potty-training books.
Another one comes, and you remind yourself to find the books.
Suddenly you find yourself the parent of four, so caught up in life you realize you've forgotten all the at-one-time-invaluable information you learned years ago. Your baby is a terrible sleeper because you didn't train her properly, she cries unless you're holding her because you've never done floor time, you can't remember when you're supposed to start solids, and when the doctor asks about milestones, you draw a blank (She is smiling right?)
You realize that this last child will have hand-me-down parents, parents who were new and fresh for their first born, but are now like your sister's old shirt, faded and worn. But you also realize that with all the washings that shirt has been through, it's gotten softer, more comfortable, and more experience than you would care to think about.

normal

I would like to be one of those people who posts daily about interesting things that have happened in their fascinating lives. Alas, my life is anything but. However, I have come to accept, even reveled in, my own normal existance. I live a normal life, with somewhat normal kids, in a normal house, driving my normal minivan, to the normal Target to buy normal groceries. Nothing out of the ordinary usually happens, hence my posts.
Example:
My 2007 New Years Resolutions
1. Be on time.
2. Run well.
3. Eat better.
4. Be a better parent.
5. Stick to a budget.
6. Keep a cleaner house.
7. Serve more.
I think it would be out of character if I were to, say, resolve to learn the electric guitar (not that there's anything wrong with that). And I'm okay with it.
Because some people are electric guitars, and some are minivans.

Box folding champion

My significant other and I have had many trials in our 10 years, usually of the monetary type. We have never been poverty stricken, but we've always struggled. Even after he landed the job he had been trying to get for years, it still didn't seem like we'd ever see an end to our financial woes. (It takes a long time to fill the grand canyon with one small shovel-full of dirt at a time.) One thing that I can be fully grateful for is a husband who is not too proud to work, even at the most menial of jobs. He's done things I couldn't imagine for the sake of our family. (Don't worry, I've never pimped him out, although I bet I could make some good money) But it seemed like no matter what we did, we could never get ahead. There were always cars to fix, which he learned how to do, and doctors to visit, thank goodness for our health insurance. We seemed to be making headway recently, although slowly.
So when he came home one day last week and said he had gotten a job delivering pizzas, I was aghast. Why oh why would he want to do that?! Delivering pizzas was something he had done while we were in school. It was good money and free pizza, but he quit to go to grad school, and I thought we were done with it. It seemed like such an unlikely thing for a college professor to be doing, and I was embarassed. But he takes more of an interest in our situation than I do, and he said we needed it. Plus he's not too proud to do things like that, and I am.
So yesterday he went out in his official uniform, off to feed the masses. When he came home he told me how he was running circles around all the other guys. And how he can fold boxes better than anyone there. I was proud, but this time it was because of him.

Holy Guacamole!

Those are the words my youngest son utters when he gets excited about something. When I let him have a treat he says "whoopee!" I'm not sure where he learned either one of these phrases, but every time I hear them, I can't help but smile.
So, to quote Cannon, "Holy Guacamole and Whoppee!" Claire bear slept through the night.

Christmas cards

I have nothing of importance to say today. I am just feeling the guilt at not having updated for weeks. I am a blog slacker. I am however impressed with the other things I have accomplished in the past few weeks. The one I am most impressed with is the mailing of my Christmas cards. This is a fight every year with the professor. He gets frustrated that I even attempt. His reasoning being that out of the 10 Christmases we have shared together, I have actually mailed out all my Christmas cards exactly never. Some years I get some cards mailed, while the others get filed away after Christmas. Other years I buy all the items I need but never finish making the cards. Some years I get the cards made, addressed, and even stamped, but fail to make it to the post office. Last year I even accepted defeat early by buying cheap cards, and reasoning that if I didn't get them sent, I was only out a couple bucks. I didn't get them sent. You can understand his impatience with this yearly tradition. But this year was different. I went to great lengths to buy matching shirts, have someone take our picture, buy photo paper to go with the new printer, cut, glue, and tie cards together for not only our family, but also friends, old and new. This took, from start to finish, about 2 weeks. I could see the skepticism in his eyes as I worked on them. His head would shake when I told him I was just about done. A "Whatever" came out of his mouth as I put them in my purse and headed to buy stamps. I don't think he actually believes I mailed them, by the 15th of December no less. But, I did. This was a personal victory. I started and finished my Christmas cards. I can be responsible and trusted with this job. However, if I was you, I would keep this years' card for next Christmas. It might be a few more years before you see another one.

One-handed

One reason I haven't posted much as of late-it's hard to type one-handed. Seeing as I have a small bundle in one arm, it leaves only one hand to punch out keys, which is waaaaaaay too slow a way to type. Today however, I have mastered holding an infant and using both hands. I just hope she doesn't fall off my shoulders.

Other things I can now do one handed-
Open a can of soda without spilling it on her
Sign my name
Cook spaghetti
Brush Emme's hair(she doesn't like it when I do this)
Make lunches for the kids
Drive(Settle down, I'm not holding her, just keeping her binky in while she sits in her carseat)

Yesterday I had one of those moments every mother lives for, when you finally get a glimpse of your children being kind, helpful, and well-behaved, all at the same time. Those moments are fleeting, and need to be cherished. We were at the store, the smallest needed to be held, her brother just woke up cranky from a nap, and the two eldest had just arrived home from a long day at school. It had all the ingredients for a disaster. But the elder brother took his little brother by the hand, and my daughter took the shopping basket. I told her what to put in, while the two boys went to the bathroom. She checked me out at the selfscan, the boys came back and carried the bags to the car. They did all this without arguing over who got to do what and their baby sister got a chance to be comforted to sleep.
Candy seemed like such a small reward for their efforts, but it was well received.

I know, I know

I'm still here.
Things that have happened or will be happening-
I officially turned 30 last month.
My oldest is going to be 9 in a week.
My baby gained almost 3 pounds.
My ten year anniversary is in a few weeks.
We decorated for Christmas Thanksgiving weekend (a first).
I am back to running.

And a picture of the kiddies on Santa's lap for those of you desperate to revel in the beauty of my children. Please keep in mind that I am no Liz, and I do not have photoshop, and that my digital camera sucks.