Slacker

I'm feeling unorganized, unproductive, scatter-brained, what have you. I need a planner, or at least a calendar. Mommy brain is not capable of remembering things like dates, names, what needs to be done when, or how to properly construct a sentence. So today I made a list.

23 Feb 2011

• cancel Comcast
• pay AmEx bill
• babysitter for Saturday
• treats/note for Visiting Teaching ladies (it's one of those months)
• Girls Camp calendar/ideas - meet with MF
• Book Club date/invitations
• order TC's missionary plaque
• Church bulletin board
• dinner for C family
• Friday KM here for play date
• Thursday - drive to gymnastics
• JES birthday presents/cake
• SK birthday present
• Mom & K thank-you card & gift
• grocery shopping
• laundry
• clean basement
• organize files
• vacuum car
• schedule JES doctor appointment - 1 year
• March 1st - Relief Society meeting
• call SP
• shoes

This is on top of my daily tasks of keeping the house clean, and the floor swept (the way JES eats that's a full-time job), the kids happy and entertained, and everyone fed (again, it feels like I'm constantly making a meal or cleaning up after one). So far I've paid my AmEx bill on-line. This list doesn't even include catching up on all my television viewing. That list would rival this one in length. I don't even know which girls are left on The Bachelor or who the next American Idol will be. At my productivity level, I may never know. I'm not feeling super-motivated, the way I thought I would having written everything down on paper. Wish me luck getting off my lazy rear-end (which, to my credit, has been running almost 3 miles in the morning for the last couple weeks - at least one thing I'm accomplishing) and getting some of this stuff done. I need all the help I can get.

Punk

MOHAWK-SPORTING

PURPLE "ROXY" JEGGING-WEARING

CRAZY-EYED

FUN-LOVING

ATTITUDE-GIVING

PAPARAZZI-FRIENDLY

WILD WOMAN

PUNK!

It's just a little crush...

EM-isms

While eating strawberries..."Mom, I just adore strawberries. Do you adore strawberries, too?"

EM heard the ice cream truck, and not knowing where the sound was coming from, or probably even what an ice cream truck is, she said, "Dad, did you hear that music? Isn't it beautiful? It was so beautiful I had to close my eyes." Apparently we need to expose her to better music.

After her first day of Kindergareten: "Mom, you should really go to school. It's so fun." When I asked if any of the other moms were at school, and wouldn't that be weird if I were the only mom at school she said, "Well, maybe you should have just stayed 5 then."

Fall Fetish

Something about this time of year brings about some serious introspection for me. The harvest, the abundance of fruit right in my own backyard, the going back to school, the colors, the change of season....I don't know what it is, but I like it. Fall is the season I'd pick if I had to pick a season. So here are a couple lessons I learned today from picking blackberries:

• Enjoy the right here and right now.

I find myself telling the girls to not eat anymore berries, because then we won't have enough for the cobbler I want to make. Am I for real? A blackberry is at its best when it's fresh-picked, ripe, and warm off the vine. So juicy and delicious, no cobbler can compete. Once I forget about the cobbler and allow myself to enjoy the berries as we pick, I have no more self control than my girls. When we're through my hands and mouth are just as covered in remnants of purple delight as my 2-year-old's. I have my girls to thank for teaching me to stop and enjoy the moment, instead of planning to enjoy it later.

• Sometimes you have to deal with thorns to get to the GOOD stuff.

Blackberries have a pretty good defense mechanism set up to, you know, protect them from bears and little girls. The best, biggest, ripest berries are always hidden in the thorns. You better have a few scrapes after you're done picking, or you can be sure you missed out on the really GOOD stuff.

• Taking a break to pick blackberries when my house is a disaster and my baby is crying is GOOD for me, maybe even necessary.

This really requires no explanation other than by the time I was finished, the baby had cried herself to sleep, thereby saving my sanity for maybe 1/2 hour.

• Life is GOOD, and I am blessed, maybe even spoiled.

Those berries grow with absolutely no work on my part. I get to enjoy their GOODness without having to do anything but walk a few yards and pick away. I have lots of things in my life that I probably don't deserve, definitely haven't "earned," and probably don't appreciate as much as I should.

• Hard work deserves a reward.

I told the girls they couldn't eat any berries until my bowl was filled. Well, they didn't exactly keep their side of that bargain 100%, but they did help me fill my bowl up as best as little girls can, two or three berries at a time. So they definitely deserved some reward of their own for all their "hard" work. And since blackberries are dangerous creatures they needed some help from someone with longer arms. I can be a nice mom. Sometimes. When I stop and actually allow myself to be nice in the moment instead of planning to be nice later.

Really Real 1st Day

Today was EM's true first day of Kindergarten. The older grades started last Monday, and the Kindergartners go that first day, only to have to wait an entire week until they can go back. The rest of the week is spent assessing each, individual kindergartner's intelligence. So today was it, the big day, her first footsteps down the path of public education. I had planned to walk her up to school, but Mother Nature put a damper on that idea. So rather than fight the masses to find a parking spot, lug three children through the downpour to get EM in the building and in the right classroom, I let my friend take her instead. Tell me I'm not a bad mom. Tell me I won't regret missing that opportunity for the rest of my life. I went with her last Monday to her "pseudo" first day - tell me that was GOOD enough. Instead of seeing her tackle this new challenge with my own eyes (which may or may not have been filled with tears had I been there), I had to receive a second-hand account of how she put on her determined face and walked confidently into her classroom. She hung up her raincoat, and looked around, unsure what to do next. She watched the other kids, looking for some inspiration. She took her things out of her backpack, and then wondered what to do with it now. She figured it out, and hung it up with her jacket. She marched her skinny little self in her skinny little jeans (is it wrong that I covet my 5-year-old's body? Seriously, if I looked as good as she does in skinny jeans I'd be wearing them daily...I digress) into that Kindergarten class. She owned her first day. I'm as proud as any mommy could be. I actually think it was for the best that I wasn't there. I don't think her first-day-of-Kindergarten story would be the same if she'd had her smother-mother making sure every little thing she did was exactly what she was supposed to do.
At EM's assessment the parents were asked to fill out a questionnaire. The last question asked something along the lines of "What do you expect out of your child's Kindergarten experience?" The answer I wrote was something like, "I hope she has a positive and fun experience. I want her to make new friends. I hope her love for learning continues to grow. I hope she develops confidence in herself." After today, I think we're on the right track. What I didn't write, but want her to remember is this: "I hope that even though there will be more influences in your life now that you have entered this big, new world, that your father's and my influence will still have an impact. I hope that within your circle of friends your sisters are always included. I hope that you remember to be nice, to remember how our words make other people feel, to listen, to tell the truth, to obey, to not be a tattle-tell. I hope you don't change too much, because I love your silly faces and voices and made-up words, I love your laugh, I love your desire for perfection, I love YOU. I hope you recognize how smart you are and that you can do anything - just don't give up when you think it's too hard. Most importantly, I hope that you don't let others determine how you feel about yourself. Know that you are a beautiful, talented, and amazing daughter of God. Knowing that will make all the difference in your life. Please, please, please don't lose that confidence you had today as you faced your first day of school. Don't let some 4'10" 80-pound girl make you think there's something wrong with you because you don't look like she does (okay, maybe this discussion can wait for junior high or high school - or hopefully this will never be YOUR issue). I hope you have the best year of Kindergarten ever!"

Update

So, it's been two weeks since I wrote my previous post. I don't know why I haven't posted it until now...Because I needed to make sure it was perfect, I'm sure. And I finally just have to let it go, because I don't have time to obsess over it. We are now at 5 weeks - still alive. Still nursing...sort of...barely. She's growing, growing, growing. Who knew a little 6 lb. 6 oz. runt could be so big at 5 weeks? I still have 20 lbs. to lose (at least I'm not growing, right?) We're still loving her. And we're getting more sleep...sort of...barely. The three times a night has decreased to two. Now if she'd only sleep during the day! The girl is restless and uncomfortable. Is it gas? Is it constipation? Is it reflux? I don't know. She sleeps fabulously in my arms, but lay her down anywhere - her crib, her swing, the car seat - and within 15 minutes she's screaming. That is why my house looks the way it does. That is why my older girls look like orphans.

This picture was taken on Sunday, March 14, 2010. Daylight Savings time started that day...We forgot. CW and the girls showed up for the last 15 minutes of Sacrament Meeting. They looked slightly better than this when they left for church. We're all going a little crazy around here.

Introducing....

The newest member of our family. She's been here 3 weeks, and you'd think I'd have gotten around to showing her off by now. My excuse(s): lack of sleep, post-partum hormones which turn me into a blubbering mess when I even think about writing about the new little miracle that has joined our family, two other children who have made it very clear they do not like their mother right now, nursing and pumping and nursing and eating more than enough so I have an endless milk supply and nursing and nursing and nursing and fretting over whether my child is growing and/or getting enough to eat and also nursing, sleeping, trying to enjoy these first weeks because we are definitely not doing this again!

She's beautiful, and I love her.

Statistics:

1st: day she was born - March 1st, 2010...I find it very fitting that my first child was born on the last day of March and my last child was born on the first day of March. "The first shall be last, and the last shall be first." Yes, I am 100% sure that this is it. I am too old to do this again.

6: time of birth - 6:00 p.m. exactly.

6 6: weight - 6 lbs 6 oz.

20: inches long.

3: number of times the umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck.

4: days in the hospital...long enough to wear out your welcome.

3: children...all girls!

3: weeks I've survived.

20: pounds I need to lose.

3: average number of times I'm up at night feeding this child, whom I love dearly, but would love even more if I were sleeping more.

Cannot be quantified: changed diapers, kisses, friends and neighbors and family bringing gifts and meals and taking care of children, feedings, gratitude that she is here and healthy, the medical bills from our emergency C-section (just kidding - sort of).

Her arrival (you have my permission to stop reading now...it may be long, and most likely boring to anyone other than myself):

Remember how I was panicking over having to make a silly decision whether to be induced or not? Well, that should have been the least of my worries. Monday, shortly after I posted my last post three weeks ago I started having contractions....on my own, Pitocin-free, lucky me! Shortly after 3:00 p.m. the girls were with a friend, and CW and I were on our way to the hospital. Everything was fine and normal...I was dilated to a 5 or 6 when I got to the hospital, and we were going to have a baby!

Then I met the nurse anesthetist. This is where things started going badly. The dude inspired no confidence whatsoever. As he searched my back for an endless amount of time, looking for who knows what, I was on the verge of telling him to forget the epidural, I would rather go natural. That's saying a lot. He acted like this was his first experience sticking a needle in someone's spine, and I was not about to let some amateur paralyze me for life. I was not impressed, and it must have showed, because at one point CW said, "SaM, he's doing a GOOD job...he knows what he's doing." My nerves were on edge, and it didn't get any better.

Shortly after my epidural, a random doctor from the hospital came to check on things with a concerned look, which led to more freaking out on my part. Of course no one bothered explaining to me what was going on, and I'm going over every possible horror-story scenario, wondering if this would still be happening had I taken my pre-natal vitamins more faithfully. Yes, I really am as pathetic as I sound, and by now the tears were flowing freely. Finally some comfort came by way of my OB/GYN, along with some much-needed explanations. Apparently every time I had a contraction baby's heart rate dropped. At first her heart rate would return to normal after the contraction was over, but after several episodes her heart rate wasn't returning to normal before I would have another contraction. Seeing as I was still only dilated to a 6, and could be in labor for hours to come, my doctor decided a C-section was necessary. More panicking...something about being cut open is much more terrifying to me than pushing out a baby. Lots of morphine and 15 minutes later I'd given birth. Interesting fact about myself, morphine makes me forget to breathe. Who knew? Hopefully that piece of information won't be needed again and can be stored away, a useless trivia fact that maybe I'll mention when conversation is dull at our next social gathering.

The umbilical cord had been wrapped three times around her neck. There was no way she could have made it down the birth canal on her own. I was told the cord was very thin - should I worry about this, too. Why not? Once again, maybe it can be attributed to my irregular consumption of vitamins. She was so small and seemed even more traumatized than I was. I was in a morphine daze, and remember very little of the moments following her delivery. They let me hold her (was that really wise, considering how incoherent I was?) before taking her away to do whatever it is they do. Then the stitching up began, which seemed to take forever compared to the quick procedure of cutting me open and taking my insides out. It was a very unpleasant sensation to feel the tugging and pulling of being put back together. Finally, it was over....I could go see my baby.

Or not. I would not see my baby for the next 12 hours. And I only saw her because I painfully wheeled myself down to see her (okay, I think a nurse actually wheeled me down while my husband, who remained much more calm throughout all of this, slept peacefully). What I hadn't been told, or at least not to my recollection, was that my baby had TTN, or rapid breathing, most likely because of excess fluid in her lungs. They would need to monitor her until her breathing slowed down. She was on an IV, and I was not allowed to feed her for fear that she might aspirate. More waiting. Finally at 6:00 p.m. the next day, 24 hours after her birth (it felt much longer), I was able to hold and feed my baby. Well, the feeding would take some work, but at least she was free of the machines!

And then we hung out for 3 more days, monitoring and checking and trying to get the girl to eat. I cried and panicked some more, because clearly if I couldn't even feed my own child I wasn't fit to be a mother. And then she'd make some progress, gradual, but at least in the right direction. And I got some sleep and cried a little less. Finally by Friday, I didn't even care if I wasn't able to feed my child, I just wanted out of that stupid hospital full of people who clearly couldn't get a job at a decent medical institution. Yes, in my old age I have become extremely impatient and intolerant of others. Really, there were some great people who took care of me and my baby, but there were also more than a few "interesting" characters. At times it really did feel like this place took in the most socially awkward doctors, nurses, nurse anesthetists, etc. they could find.

Week one over, and we were home at last. EM and LuV were at Grandma and Grandpa's in Idaho, CW back at work, and I am a mother of one. Only one. Just me and my baby girl. All day long. It was so quiet and peaceful. There were days the silence was maddening, and I just wanted to go get my girls. Fortunately I resisted. Week two was a blissful time of sleeping and reading and relaxing and healing and holding my baby whenever I wanted, as long as I wanted. She got better at eating. We bonded. Week three and I was back to being a mother of three. We had one GOOD day - Wednesday. Baby slept in her crib. LuV took a nap, which meant she wasn't crying for her dad all afternoon. There was slightly less whining. I finally swept and mopped the hardwood floors - it had been nearly a month. The rest of the week was less successful.

Baby still isn't a great eater or night sleeper. I'm ready to give up on nursing, and if it weren't for RSV season I probably would. I'm trying to hold out until the end of April. Wish me luck. EM and LuV have their moments. It's hard for them, I know. I am trying to be sensitive. I am trying to be patient. I am trying to balance the needs of three little girls. I am trying to be a mother of three. I am trying. Some day we'll get there. I am surviving, and that is all that can be expected after three weeks. We'll take the GOOD days when they come, and the other days we hold on until 5:30 p.m. brings relief.

One thing is certain - she is loved. EM and LuV love their sister. I love my baby girl. I am grateful she is here, even if she causes me grief with her eating and sleeping. I am thankful she is healthy even if it costs us thousands in medical expenses. I am amazed at the miracle of life - that she is so perfect and beautiful and whole. I still can't believe how blessed we are...in spite of pre-natal vitamins and everything else. And I still couldn't write this without crying, but at least it didn't end in violent sobbing like some of the other posts I started....

Bliss

Near 60-degree weather. Being outside. An end in sight. Thinking about a new beginning. A soon-to-be special delivery, just for us, coming from a heavenly home. Nesting. Recognizing a need to improve. Loving my children. Determining that I will be better because they deserve better. Homemade curry...enjoyed by all. 9:00 a.m. church. A two-year-old making it to the potty in time. Kids' bedtime. Remembering what I looked like with ankles. Crying during the movie Bedtime Stories and still being able to blame it on pregnancy hormones. Tiny baby clothes. Wondering, waiting, wishing.

photo courtesy of EM

Just some things I've enjoyed the past couple days.

What Could Possibly Have Induced Me???

I scheduled a date to be induced. Six days from today. Thursday. My other two girls were born on Thursdays. That's not why I chose Thursday. It was the last day I could "schedule" this baby before my doctor leaves for who knows where. Apparently she doesn't feel the need to stay in town the weekend my baby is due to make her grand entrance into this world. How dare she? I, on the other hand, will have to miss being with my brother while he goes through the temple for the first time. I hate being the only one in my family to miss out on things. Because my OB/GYN has the nerve to come and go when and where she pleases, a luxury those of us who are 39 weeks pregnant do not get to enjoy, I have now been placed in the uncomfortable position of having to make a decision. I hate having to make decisions. Do I get induced Thursday before my doctor abandons me, not to return until Monday evening? Or do I let things take their natural course, even if that means a stranger coaches me through the final pushes? Really, the doctor does so very little in the delivery process it shouldn't matter. And yet there is something reassuring about having MY doctor be the one to present me with baby girl #3. So I chose a date. It feels so unnatural and wrong. I feel like I am being pushy - demanding that my daughter's birthday WILL be March 4, 2010. I hate knowing when it will happen. There is still a chance that she will surprise me. She has six days. But my womb does not tend to release its prey early. There have been no indications that my womb will act any differently this time. So...Thursday it is.

The real reason I chose Thursday: I want my baby to share a birthday with Jim and Pam's baby. How awesome is that?

Have I mentioned how much I hate all of this?

One thing I will not hate...being pregnant one more day.

More Christmas Fun Mingled with Sickness

It's almost Christmas! I can't believe a whole month of EM asking how many more days until it's here has gone by so quickly. We have been trying to enjoy this Christmas season, and pack in all the fun we can. My pregnant body can only take so much, but we've done pretty well...at least on the days that my stomach hasn't been queasy. I have some ailment that seems to strike every other day or so. Or perhaps I've been consuming too much junk and my body is simply revolting. Either way it has been less than pleasant, what with the churning innards in addition to an especially active and kicking baby girl in my womb. Though it hasn't really prevented me from sampling (in excess) the caramels and toffee and chocolate sent our way.
We've made and delivered gifts of apple butter, or apple pie filling, or popcorn to neighbors and friends. We've decorated a gingerbread house. CW and I have attended the Mormon Tabernacle Choir's Christmas concert with my parents and one of my sisters and one of my brothers - CW and I do not do well in situations of traffic/parking chaos - just a note to self for future marital harmony. It was a wonderful evening aside from the near end to our marriage trying to navigate through traffic in downtown Salt Lake City with thousands of people trying to get to a Tabernacle Choir concert, a Utah Jazz game, and/or a Nutcracker performance. We've sledded down the hill in our backyard. Even I joined in the fun and took LuV down a couple times - I am hoping none of the neighbors witnessed the spectacle of a very pregnant woman in capri yoga pants and knock-off Ugg boots (with at least 3-4 inches of bare leg) trying not to slam herself and her two-year-old daughter into the back of her brick home. EM did end up in a window well at one point, and she quickly learned to have her feet in position to slow herself down near the bottom of the hill. We've made Christmas cards for grandmas and grandpas and Primary teachers and preschool teachers. We've braved the store to buy gifts for each other - EM for LuV, and LuV for EM, and the girls for mommy and daddy. We've attended the ward party, which was a ride on the Polar Express, and I've never seen EM so giddy in all my life, plus LuV is happy anytime she gets to wear pajamas! We've seen the movie The Princess and the Frog, and I now know that movies are best when watched at the theater with your four-year-old daughter and a bucket of popcorn and a Sprite for her and her sister and a Diet Coke for me and my hubby. Except I could have done without LuV rolling around on the floor of the movie theater. We've done a sub for Santa for a family in our ward. I hope the girls understood at least in part what we were doing and why...EM was extremely upset that the little girl would get to open her gifts before Christmas, while she had to wait until Christmas morning. I informed her that this little girl had a mommy, too, and that moms make you wait until Christmas morning to open presents, and instantly everything was right with the world again. Another note to self: if you're trying to be anonymous, don't put all the food and gifts into boxes that have been shipped to you and clearly have your name and address printed on them. We tried to play stupid...because really, how much more stupid could I be, but I don't think they bought our "I don't know what you're talking about - we had nothing to do with it" act. We've had Grandma and Grandpa over for dinner. We've colored Christmas pictures and read Christmas stories. We've been to Grandma and Grandpa's house for a party complete with Santa Claus. We didn't get around to building a snowman, because the thought of rolling large snowballs in temperatures in the teens was not something I was willing to do, even for my daughters. We still need to set a Christ-centered goal for our family for the New Year. We are planning to go see the lights at Temple Square tomorrow. We started to read The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, and we may or may not finish it...probably on the drive to Grandma and Grandpa's house on Christmas Day. We still need to have a nice Christmas Eve dinner and have a toast with our fancy martini glasses. We still need to read the story of Christ's birth from the New Testament, and reflect on why we love and celebrate this magical time of year.
It's been a great month - stomach issues and all. I love this time of year. I love that I finally have a child who is old enough to eagerly anticipate Christmas. Her eyes visibly light up when she talks about it - not just the presents and Santa Claus, but when she tells me about baby Jesus and who He is and what He means to her. Christmas has never been so GOOD as it has been this year. I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas and that the New Year is a happy one.

Christmas Fun

On the first day of Christmas we drank hot cocoa and watched Dr. Seuss' "How the Grinch Stole Christmas." Actually CW and the girls did this, since I had a Relief Society meeting to attend...

On the second day of Christmas we made sugar cookies - great big star sugar cookies decorated with sprinkles. This was mainly EM's and my project...LuV got bored quickly. I tried not to let the perfectionist in me ruin the moment, since I was taking these cookies for refreshments at our Young Women activity that evening and was hoping they wouldn't look like a 4-year-old had made them, even though she had...

On the third day of Christmas we made applesauce/cinnamon ornaments to take to neighbors - a very similar activity to the day before...great big stars cut out of dough made of cinnamon and applesauce. What a mess! They smell good and are still drying out in the basement, so we're keeping our fingers crossed that they turn out...

On the fourth day of Christmas we were supposed to attend the Festival of Trees to see our friend's beautiful tree, but EM woke up running to the bathroom to puke. Fortunately she made it to the toilet and that was the only incident, but we figured it would be best to stay indoors, so instead we painted EM's toenails and fingernails. Poor LuV was too tired and wanted to go to bed (there seems to be a common theme of LuV missing out on all the fun)...

On the fifth day of Christmas we went to the Festival of Trees, and once we found a parking space and CW calmed down a bit from the parking lot mayhem we enjoyed looking at all the pretty trees. EM especially loved the pink, girly ones. LuV's only interest was a carousel carved out of wood with all the Disney princesses riding the horses. We had to go back for a second look just for her...

On the sixth day of Christmas we built a fire in the fireplace and watched the First Presidency's Christmas Devotional on KBYU. We were supposed to sing our own Christmas carols around the fire, but since CW has to plug his ears to block me out when we sing for Family Home Evening, I figured it best not to torture him too much. We sang along to the third verse of "Silent Night" with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, so technically, mission accomplished...

More Christmas fun hopefully to come.

100 Things for Which I Am Thankful

1 Beautiful Daughters, 2 a GOOD Book, 3 Spaghetti, 4 Friends, 5 a Home, 6 Health, 7 Jesus Christ, 8 a Husband Who Provides for His Family, 9 Smiles, 10 GOOD Food, 11 Girls' Night Out, 12 Sisters, 13 the Gospel, 14 Fruit Trees, 15 Psych - the TV Show, 16 Serving in Young Women with Great Girls, 17 Seasons, 18 Freedom, 19 Intelligence, 20 Neighbors, 21 Romantic Comedies, 22 Being Able to Feel My Baby Move, 23 Holidays and Reasons to Celebrate, 24 an Education, 25 Parents, 26 New Clothes, 27 Dancing Shows, 28 Stubbornness, 29 Laughter, 30 Diet Coke, 31 Blogs, 32 a Car, 33 Brothers, 34 Chocolate, 35 Grandparents, 36 Soup, 37 an Opinion, 38 Hugs & Kisses, 39 Hearing LuV say "Hey You" to Me, 40 My Bed, 41 Vacations, 42 8 Hours of Continuous Sleep, 43 Compliments, 44 a Clean House, 45 In-Laws, 46 No Laundry, 47 EM and LuV Being Friends, 48 Dreams, 49 Feeling the Spirit, 50 Love, 51 Flowers, 52 Surprises, 53 Forgiveness, 54 GOOD Days, 55 Clean Teeth, 56 Exercise, 57 Fires in Fireplaces, 58 Music, 59 Patience when I Need it, 60 Haircuts, 61 Indoor Plumbing, 62 when EM Listens, 63 a Trip to the Store without Kids, 64 My Kitchen, 65 Photographs, 66 Quiet Moments, 67 Internet Shopping, 68 PBS Kids, 69 the Temple, 70 Comments on My Blog, 71 Service, 72 Contact Lenses, 73 When CW Comes Home, 74 $5 Pizzas, 75 Weekends Free of Any Obligations, 76 Games, 77 a Prophet, 78 Phone Calls from Loved Ones, 79 Talented and Inspiring People in the World, 80 Coming Home after Being Gone, 81 Disney Movies, 82 Bedtime, 83 Babysitters, 84 Canning and Food Storage, 85 Fresh Baked Bread, 86 Missionaries, 87 a Child's Prayer, 88 a Dry Night - without Bed-Wetting, 89 the Smell of Clean Kids after Their Bath, 90 Lessons Learned, 91 "Please" & "Thank You," 92 Water, 93 the End of 9 Months of Pregnancy, 94 Bonus Checks, 95 an Uninterrupted Shower, 96 Lotion, 97 Time, 98 Hope, 99 Ideas, 100 the Opportunity to Stay at Home and Be a Mother

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Blogging Blahs

If you hadn't noticed I've struggled with the whole blogging thing in recent months. And considering that my blog is just over a year old, that indicates I've pretty much struggled with the whole blogging thing from day one. I want to blog. I want to want to blog. But lately I don't really want to do much of anything. My attitude reeks worse than the sour milk LuV spilled into some unreachable crevasse of the car. I don't really like who I am right now. My hormones are out of control. Seriously. One night I sobbed until my pillow was drenched and I'd run out of reasons to pity my poor, sorry self. I went to sleep feeling like a pathetic loser, not unaware that I was acting very much like a high school version of myself. A time when my self esteem couldn't even be detected under a microscope. A time when I loathed just about everything, and myself most of all. These days are not at all unlike those days. And I really don't want to blog about how self-absorbed and insecure I am right now. I don't want people to know what kind of a person I REALLY am, and I especially don't need to be reminded of this pitiful chapter in my life, especially when it's a repeat, and perhaps a common theme throughout my life.

And that, my friends, is why I am a bad blogger. I am essentially a fortress when it comes to most people. You've heard of walls? I've surrounded myself with them. So what possessed me to start publishing what I think and feel on the world-wide web? It's insane how much stress it causes me. Every post I agonize over, wondering what people will think, not only of my words, but of ME! I don't want to sugar-coat my life. I don't want to write about how my children are perfect (or at least better than yours) and I don't want to write about how every day is filled with fabulous, creative, educational, super-entertaining activities, because I'm super mom (that would be blatant lies). But I also don't want to write about my actual day-to-day frustrations and feelings of inadequacy. Life as a stay-at-home wife and mother does not come easily for me....it is not my dream job, and I'm not a natural at it. When I started my blog I wanted to write about the GOOD things in my life, so I would enjoy them more, and so I could look back and remember that life was and continues to be GOOD. Lately I haven't felt a lot of GOODness....It's there, I just need to be better about recognizing it.

And next time I feel an anxiety attack coming on when I sit down to write a post, I need to find the GOOD and forget the rest. So....one GOOD thing I finished today was a project I started with my mom and sisters and sisters-in-law a couple weeks ago. It's an advent calendar made out of a muffin tin. The 24 days until Christmas are made with scrapbook paper and embellishments glued to a magnet to cover the muffin cups. Each day the girls can take off a magnet to find a little treat along with some sort of Christmas-y activity or project or service for that day. Here's hoping that I can get my stinky attitude in check and enjoy the holidays, at least for the girls' sake. Otherwise I might need to check myself into a mental institution until this baby is born - a little medication and even a straight jacket and a padded room doesn't sound too bad right about now.

My Week

Sunday: CW left for meetings at 9:00 am. I tried to keep the girls "properly" entertained, got them fed and dressed and ready for church at 1:00 pm. Survived three hours of church. Made dinner - Honey Salsa Chicken with Rice and Apple Salad. Headed south to visit CW's parents, bringing apples from our trees and homemade Fruit Dip.

Monday: Cleaned house...all day long, because for some reason the house falls apart on the weekends and it was a disaster. Made dinner - Roasted Tomato Soup and Grilled Cheese Sandwiches. Had Family Home Evening or attempted to do so. Made Apple Crisp for dessert. CW tried to fix sprinklers (it's October, shouldn't we be done working on our stupid sprinklers by now?!). Did laundry.

Tuesday: Took EM to preschool. Picked up EM from preschool. Went to the store to purchase materials for Young Women's. Had EM's and LuV's friends over to play. Made a poster for Young Women's. Went to EM's soccer game. Made dinner - Tacos and leftover Apple Salad. Normally CW would be at meetings all night, but luckily he didn't have to go...or he ditched. EM wet the bed and slept in bed with me the rest of the night, which resulted in very little sleep for me and a delightful head butt first thing the next morning.

Wednesday: Woke up grumpy. Made the mistake of bringing the girls to the ultrasound. Had ultrasound...baby looks healthy. Big surprise (for us at least) baby is a girl! Took the girls to see where daddy works. Saw daddy's cubicle. Got Happy Meals for the girls for lunch on the way home. LuV fell asleep in the car and had a 15 minute nap for the day. Made dinner - Manicotti and Green Beans. Went to Young Women's.

Thursday: Took EM to preschool. Drove too far to get grapes for canning juice. Went to Park Day and enjoyed beautiful weather and visiting with other moms. Went to EM's last (hallelujah!) soccer practice. Ran to the grocery store to pick up four items. Made dinner - Tortilla Soup and Green Salad. Went to watch Young Women play volleyball. Did laundry.

Friday (in anticipation): Visiting Teachers coming. Laundry. Maybe work on lesson for Young Women's on Sunday. Probably not. Attend 40th birthday party for a friend (hopefully he doesn't read this blog, because it's a surprise). Can grape juice. Lots and lots of grape juice. Not make dinner. Leave girls with a babysitter for a couple hours. Make dessert to take to party.

Saturday (also in anticipation): Attend Super Saturday for Relief Society. Definitely prepare lesson for Sunday. Make dinner. Hopefully do a fun autumny activity with CW and the girls - perhaps a pumpkin patch or corn maze. Prepare to do it all over again the next week.


It's been one of those weeks. I'm burned out. Grumpy. Tired. In a rut. Looking for a change in the monotony. Wishing for some "me" time and knowing that it never truly comes anymore. If I were a better person I would be grateful for the GOOD things - that CW was home Tuesday night, that we've had beautiful weather to enjoy, that I have oodles of apples at my disposal, that I have a healthy baby girl inside of me, that I made dinner every night this week (which is a huge accomplishment for me these days). But instead I'm wishing for a simpler life with less meetings and less scheduling and less cleaning and less laundry and less errand-running. That is what I'll be dreaming of tonight - that and grape juice. Good night.

What to Say

It's been so long, and yet I'm still feeling uninspired and unmotivated to blog. But I'm so embarrassed that the last thing I posted about was the American Idol winner. As if my life holds no more value now that the show is over. How pathetic that would be if that were true. I have So You Think You Can Dance to get me through until American Idol starts again. Just kidding....really, I'm not seriously that obsessed or pathetic.

It's been a typical summer. EM has been busy with gymnastics and swim lessons and now soccer practice. She is really thriving, and it makes me proud (and just a little bit sad) to see her growing up. As always she is my stubborn little mule, and while I love her dearly, there are days I want to lock her in her room forever....or at least until she learns some decent manners.

My sweet LuV is also growing up. She is a chatterbox, and now that we successfully cut her off from her binkies she has all sorts of things to say. She imitates everything her big sister says/does, which is pretty cute most of the time. Except when she says things like, "Just go away, Mom." Which in her adorable little 22-month-old voice is pretty hard to take seriously, but still....I'm not a fan of the sass she's picked up from her "role model".

We've played in the water and dirt and with chalk and with friends. We've ridden bikes and basically just enjoyed good weather, when Mother Nature was kind enough to bless us with it. It's been a crazy summer weather-wise. My girls spent a week at my Mom and Dad's while I survived Girls Camp. I think that was the highlight of their summer.

I started out the summer waking up early to go running. I was doing it pretty faithfully, and was feeling GOOD about myself, but that only lasted a few weeks. Now I roll out of bed when my girls do...Maybe next summer I'll do better. My windows need a washing in a bad way. My house has been sorely neglected. I've let my laundry pile up, which I NEVER let myself do. Some nights my girls eat Ramen noodles for dinner. My summer has consisted of laying on the couch doing as little as possible.

Yes, I am lazy beyond belief. But in my defense I am also 11-weeks pregnant. I am hoping to regain some usefulness in the next week or two, but not making any promises. We (meaning hubby and I) are a little freaked out by the prospect of being outnumbered. I suppose we'll figure it out as we go. CW needs a son, so send the boy vibes this way. Although I'm pretty comfortable in the girl department and wouldn't mind just keeping the status quo. And yet, a little less emotion and drama would also be nice. See how useless I am? I can't even make up my mind. A useless flake is what I've become.

And poor CW has to live with me through it all. He's a keeper, that CW. Patient and hard-working and a lifesaver for the girls. One example of what he has to put up with: he bought a puppy for himself for Father's Day. And then six weeks later when I clearly couldn't handle one more responsibility on my plate, he sold the puppy. He did it for me, his useless, flaky wife. And that about sums up our summer.

Who Do You Love?

There's this little reality TV show some of you may have heard of called American Idol. I have been addicted this season. I'm not sure why, some seasons spark my interest more than others. And this go-around...I'm borderline obsessed. And I have thunk until my thunker hurts about all this "controversy" surrounding Adam Lambert. I read an article the other day on msnbc.com about whether the show is ready for a gay winner. Now, Adam has not disclosed his sexuality, so why was there an entire article on a major news website discussing whether or not America is ready for a gay winner of American Idol? I don't know, that's why I'm asking you. It bothers me....last year when the competition was down to the two Davids I didn't see any articles about whether the country was prepared to vote for its first Mormon American Idol. Why does his sexuality even have to be an issue? And because I don't like Adam Lambert I am a bigot or homophobe or close-minded or you come up with a word you'd like to call me. Bring it.

I am baffled by how much people love this guy. What's there to love? I'll admit he's got a GOOD voice, even a great voice, when he actually sings. But....every....single....song....he has to do that scream. I guess in the music world they call it falsetto, but it is about as pleasant to me as listening to fingernails on a chalkboard. I do not like it. And then there's him....Adam. My 14- and 15-year-old Mia Maids adore him. My sister-in-law is a huge fan. And there are oodles and oodles and oodles of others out there who think he's the greatest thing to happen to American Idol. Kara DioGuardi had it right on when she called Adam "sleazy." I look at him and he is everything I do not want my children to be. This has nothing to do with his alleged sexual preference. It has everything to do with his self-absorption, his smugness, his fakeness, his absolute sleaziness.

I know American Idol is about singing, and if you think Adam Lambert has the better voice, vote for him. I personally think he's an actor, a chameleon, and a fake. He'd be fun to see on Broadway, but if I had to listen to him in my car I think I would find myself swerving into oncoming traffic to put myself out of my misery.

I like Kris. Surprise, surprise. I like his humility. I like that he seems like an all-around GOOD guy. I like his voice and his music and his style. I think he's more talented, but less experienced than Adam. If Kris were gay, but still the same Kris that I see on TV, I'd still like him. As much as I currently like him. If Kris had pictures of himself doing distasteful things with anyone, male or female, on the Internet; if he was obsessed with himself and his looks; if he acted like he was the greatest thing since peanut butter, then my opinion of him would lessen. I don't know Kris - all I know is what I see. But if I had to choose an "idol" for my kids (and myself) to look up to, hands down I choose Kris over Adam. Apparently America sees it quite differently, and maybe I'm more old-fashioned than I realized.

I don't know who will win.....the odds are pointing to Adam, and since one definition of idol is "a form or appearance visible but without substance," then I'll concede. Adam definitely is worthy of the title, because I can't think of anyone more visible, yet with so little substance.

Take That, Swine Flu

CW and I had planned a backpacking trip to Havasupai Falls. My husband went with some buddies back in his former life, before there was me, and he hasn't stopped talking about it since. I was excited to go, if for no other reason than to remind myself that I can still do fun and adventurous things like I used to before I became a mommy of two. Well, as pandemics like the swine flu can be very scary things, the tribal council decided to close the falls in order to protect the community. Too bad the whole swine flu thing was ridiculously overblown. But I don't think my little phone call asking if they were serious and if maybe they'd like to reconsider opening it back up did a whole lot of GOOD. Oh well, their loss.

And Moab's gain. CW's sister and her husband were planning on accompanying us on our trip, and they decided not to let the swine flu stop them from having some fun and seeing some beautiful scenery. Too bad when CW's sister told me to keep my babysitter for that weekend it didn't actually register. I really was smart before I had children. So, last Friday we ventured to Moab, with our two girls, to enjoy a weekend with the ADULTS from my husband's side of the family. My girls thought they were pretty special, being the only kids. They actually behaved themselves splendidly, and I loved having them with us.

Grandma and Grandpa brought the four-wheelers, and we spent several hours on a couple different trails soaking in the beauty and the sun. I couldn't believe LuV didn't scream the entire time, but when she wasn't zonked out sandwiched between Grandma and Grandpa, she was shouting, "Whee!" sandwiched between CW and me. And EM had the time of her life "driving" the four-wheeler (which meant she got to sit in front) with Grandpa.

We hiked to Delicate Arch, and EM was a trooper! She walked more than I thought she would, and thank GOODness we had Super Aunt C to save the day when she needed a piggy-back ride. It was a fun, fun, fun vacation with GOOD company, GOOD food, GOOD scenery, and as far as I can tell, absolutely no swine flu outbreaks.

Broccoli Salad

EM helped me make broccoli salad for dinner. It’s one of CW’s favorites.

2 bunches broccoli tops
½ red onion, chopped

½ lb crisp bacon, crumbled

grated cheddar cheese

grapes, halved

1/2 cup mayonnaise

1 Tbsp vinegar
¼ cup sugar

I chopped broccoli while EM gnawed on it like a beaver chomping on a log. EM wanted to know if she liked “purple onions” so she tried a piece. It made her eyes and tongue burn, but she was still determined to eat it. I was proud of her for trying something new, even if she wasn’t able to eat it all. I cooked the bacon in the microwave, because it is so much easier that way, and then let LuV and EM share a slice. EM blew on the bacon for her little sister even though it wasn’t hot. LuV has two mommies. I grated cheese and EM asked why I was putting cheese in the salad. I halved the grapes and EM stole grapes as she stole glances at me, making sure she wasn’t in trouble. I put the mayonnaise, vinegar, and sugar into a bowl and EM stirred it all together until it was smooth and creamy. We tossed everything together and put it in the fridge until it was time for dinner. CW had several helpings, and literally licked his plate.

A Homemade Life

This was a birthday gift from my husband. He told me, “The book made me think of you.” I love it, and I took it as a compliment that a book about cooking and a life with the kitchen at its center reminded him of me. Let me peak your interest, or perhaps bore you to tears, depending on your relationship with the kitchen, with the first couple paragraphs.

“It started when I was a freshman in high school. We’d be sitting at the kitchen table, the three of us, eating dinner, when my father would lift his head from his plate and say it: ‘You know, we eat better at home than most people do in restaurants.’ Sometimes, for good measure, he’d slap the table and let loose a long ooooh of contentment. It didn’t seem to matter what we were eating. It could have been some sliced tomatoes, or a bowl of mashed potatoes, or some fish that he’d fried in a pat of butter. At least every couple of weeks, he said it. To me, it sounded like tacky bragging, the kind of proud exaggeration that fathers specialize in. It’s the suburban man’s equivalent of ripping open his shirt and beating his chest with his fists. I would shrink into my chair, blushing hotly, the moment it crossed the threshold of his lips. I was mortified by the weird pleasure he took in our family meal. After a while, I could even sense it coming. I’d mouth the words before he could say them: You know, we eat better at home than most people do in restaurants!

“But now I’m old enough to admit that he was right. It’s not that we knew how to cook especially well, or that we always ate food that was particularly GOOD. There were hot dogs sometimes, and cans of baked beans. Our garlic came in a jar, minced and ready, and our butter was known to go rancid. What was so satisfying, I think, was something else. It was the steady rhythm of meeting in the kitchen every night, sitting down at the table, and sharing a meal. Dinner didn’t come through a swinging door, balanced on the arm of an anonymous waiter: it was something that we made together. We built a life for ourselves, together around that table. And although I couldn’t admit it then, my father was showing me, in his pleasure and in his pride, how to live it: wholly, hungrily, loudly.”

Blueberry-Raspberry Pound Cake; Roasted Eggplant Ratatouille; Italian Grotto Eggs; Doron’s Meatballs with Pine Nuts, Cilantro, and Golden Raisins; Cider-Glazed Salmon; Slow-Roasted Tomato Pesto; Arugula Salad with Pistachios and Chocolate…and so many more! I can't wait to try these recipes.

Granted I have no idea what kirsch is, and I don’t know if my local grocery store carries crystallized ginger, and more than one recipe calls for bourbon or other such alcoholic beverages, and I’m not certain how my little girls feel about eggplant or salmon or feta, but I’m undaunted by the task. My cooking exploits are about to get a bit more adventurous – and I’m eager to broaden my kitchen repertoire!

My husband has expressed similar sentiments when we contemplate eating out… “We could go out, but your cooking is so GOOD, it’s better than any restaurant.” Many of you may share my love-hate relationship with cooking. I love to cook, when I want to cook. I don’t always enjoy the day-to-day necessity of fixing dinner, especially after a long day with the kids. I hate coming up with a weekly menu, but I love making something delicious for someone to enjoy. I love when EM says to me, “Mommy, this is GOOD.” I love to see EM’s eyes widen when she sees a plate of strawberry shortcake piled high with whipped cream. I love LuV’s barely contained excitement when she knows it’s feeding time. I love when CW nearly licks his plate clean after eating broccoli salad. I love to see empty plates and full tummies. I love little hands pouring and stirring and helping and tasting. I love the kitchen, and I guess that’s why I love this book.

Birthday Love

EM and LuV,

For my birthday you both woke up extra early because you didn't want to waste a second of my special day.

You were needy and fussy all day long because you wanted me to know how much I am needed and appreciated.

EM, you burst into tears for no apparent reason and told me, quite passionately I might add, that I had hurt your feelings because you were trying to tell me that you care very dearly what I think of you and say to you and do for you.

LuV, your two-year molars have been causing you, and therefore all of us, a great deal of pain. You asked me for medicine, in your adorable little 19-month-old voice, because you wanted me to recognize that I have a remarkable ability to comfort.

EM, you asked me why none of my friends were coming to my party because you wanted me to understand that I don’t need any more friends than my wonderful husband and two precious daughters.

EM, you threw several toys at me when I asked you to turn off Ice Age so I could watch American Idol because you were teaching me a lesson – just because it’s someone’s birthday and just because someone is older than you does not mean that they get to do whatever they want. (Actually, sometimes it does, even though it doesn't seem fair.)

Thank you for all the wonderful birthday gifts!