Not Much to Report But I Will Anyway

I haven't felt like doing a lot of things lately, blogging included, and that's strange for me.  I haven't felt like unloading the dishwasher, or doing the laundry, or making dinner, or packing lunches, or cleaning the bathroom, or mopping the floor, or picking up toys, though that stuff's not really that strange. Sometimes I get a wild hair and start in on painting furniture or hanging picture frames, but Dan doesn't seem to find much satisfaction in returning from work to a disastrous house and no dinner, even though the inside of the armoire is now a happy yellow (and still minus a door and knobs in this picture).

I am 15 weeks now.  This time around there are many, many similarities, though overall I would have to say that this pregnancy has been slightly milder than at least two of the others. I can feel the sickness waning and I find myself on the couch every afternoon, under the control of some other entity, where I remain until I can force my eyes open again an hour later.

  I truly have no inclination as to the gender.  At first I openly wanted another girl to round things out.  But as the weeks passed, I kept picturing my new little baby boys, and realized that actually, I would give my left arm to have another one of those.  That realization combined with a convincing conversation with a friend, led me to convince Dan, that we won't find out the sex of the baby beforehand because whatever it is, it's exactly what I wanted!

 Technically, my regular pants still fit.  But they do not look good.  It was time to choose a direction--over or under, cause through the middle wasn't doing me any favors.  I bought a new pair of maternity jeans, and they were just what the doctor ordered. I am looking forward to having a baby pooch as opposed to displaced organs and fat pooch that I am sporting now.

And I don't know how to say this without sounding like a like a heartless person, and I promise I am not heartless, but I am so excited for this baby, more than I have been for any of the others.  Moments of giddiness come upon me each day and I can hardly contain my excitement.  I can't recall that ever happening before.  And surely it's not because I don't love my other kids because obviously I do. I decided to push out the guilt and just enjoy my own excitement.  I can't wait!

Without fail, as I've left the OB's office each time, I step in the elevator to go down to my car, I start to cry as I get overwhelmed thinking about the little body floating in there and the heartbeat I just heard.  There's really a baby in there!

But as I mentioned, it's not sunshine and butterflies all the time.  Our life is still running a little more roughly, and we've all lowered the bar.  But it's good.  Or it could be a lot worse.

And now, the crappy phone picture recap.  The past few weeks highlight reel:

With the big ones in school everyday, Max and I have been getting a lot of QT together.

I took the whole gang to Hobby Lobby, The Three Musketeers: Max, Buzz, and Harry

We've also had some time that was not so quality, for example the floured living room:

We've celebrated two birthdays:

And if you are wondering if layering ice cream sandwiches with whip cream, caramel, chopped up reese's cups and another layer of ice cream sandwiches, whip cream, caramel, and chopped up reese's cups tastes good, the answer is yes.

There 's been cowboy bonding over the ipad:

Max refuses to nap and consequently falls asleep at random times and places:

And after last weekend's garage sale, we are one step closer to parking Dan's car in the garage.  But it was Ava's cookies and rice crispy treats which brought in the most profit.

The Day Poo Flies (kind of gross)

Sweety pie Luke started school on Tuesday. He was not excited at all.  At least until he met his teacher and saw his new classroom the week before the first day.  He kept saying he didn't want to go and that he was "too shy" but after that visit, he changed his tune and said he was so excited.

Before I could get him to school on Tuesday morning I experienced a motherly first.  Like any good mom, I realized as the minutes flew by and we needed to be getting in the car, that I had another kid named Max who was still in his pajamas and a very ripe diaper.

We ran over to the corner of the living room where all the changing supplies are, he laid down, I changed his bum, set the diaper onto the wood floor where I would soon retrieve it, wrap it around itself and deposit it in the trash.  But first I had to rip off his jammies and replace them with clothes.  I did.  And I did it fast.  I am such a champ. Before we got up, I grabbed his pajamas from where they fell near the old, stinky, still open diaper. In my rush I must have grabbed just the edge of the diaper in such a way to send its contents into a perfect trajectory above my head.  As soon as my brain computed what it was seeing in the air, I was screaming like a girl, and I continued to do so long after the poo patty, roughly the size of a mushed grapefruit, landed on my thigh.

Max stood in front of me with eyes wide in an effort to assess what was happening. He looked from my face, to my screaming mouth, to my leg.  And finally said, "What is that?!"

I stopped screaming to tell him, "It's your poop! Poop does not belong on my leg.  Poop goes in the potty!"

I try to not to push the whole potty issue with him because he is not only not ambivalent, he is ANTI-potty.  He absolutely refuses any bribes, suggestions, encouragements.  He tells me he's "too busy" to use the potty.  He will not go near the toilet at all.  It's not an issue I want to make a battle, of course, because he's the only one who can control his bowels.

But I'll tell you, when I sat there with crap on my leg, I wondered if I'd made a mistake.

I finished my explanation and Max looked at me again and began one of the biggest belly laughs of his life, "That is sooo funnnyyyyy!! Hahahahaha!"  He laughed all the way to the car.

And then we took Luke to school.

Max wanted in on the picture action

I finally managed to snag one without him.

Luke especially wanted a Mario backpack this year.

I actually love how you can see the edge of Max's face looking up at Luke in this one.


Luke walked into his classroom before I could give him a hug and I fought the urge to chase after him and ask for one. I went to the parent orientation meeting with a lump in my throat and a heart filled with surprise at how sad I was.  I really didn't expect any of it. Another year of preschool seems pretty low key compared with starting kindergarten, I didn't mentally prepare myself at all.

He had a great day.  And has had another great day since then.  I expect a year full of great days.  I'm happy for him.  And I miss him when he's gone.

True Blue and the First Week of School

Today is the final day of the countdown!

Sure, we've had a big week with Ava starting school and Dan pulling out tickets for a Garth Brooks concert in Vegas in a few weeks.  We met Luke's teacher and are getting him ready to start next week.  But none of those things have anything to do with the countdown.

Though I think I'll give Ava's first days a little run through before I move on.

Ava was SO excited for the first day of school.  Which is great and unusual.  Nervous is usually how she describes herself.  But she hopped out of the van that morning full of excitement and hopped back in at the end of the day, the same way.

These pictures are not my favorite.

She asked if she could pose herself against the column.


I was in a hurry.

I have pregnancy induced hatred for how I look in our traditional thumbs up picture.

 But I think I better get used to it, it's all down hill from here.

The First Grade pictures were pretty good and if I make sure the Third Grade ones are pretty good, when it's all said and done and they're lined up in order, hopefully Second Grade will just blend in.

Anyway, her report from the first day was gushing with good things ("I only cried once!" which for Ava = a good day).

And the morning of day 2 she put her socks on and said, "I haven't been this excited since...yesterday!"


She has an excellent teacher, Mrs. Defelice

So, I think it's safe to say we're off to a good start.

But now it's Thursday.  Dan couldn't sleep well last night because today is the day! The first day of BYU football.  The rest of the year will be lived game to game.  Moods and schedules will be dictated by a bunch of college dudes in spandex.  I don't begrudge him his obsession because he really asks for nothing else.

On our pit stop at the BYU bookstore this summer, he set out to do what he'd planned.  When we checked out, the cashier joked that we were the VIP customers of the day, based on the amount of cash we'd just laid down on BYU gear alone.  Dan's goal was to outfit the whole family, which he did.

I cannot explain the fatherly pride that oozed out of him when Max took to his new hat and football.

Ironically, he calls it his "B.U. hat," so if in 15 years he ends up at school in Boston, we'll know where he got mixed up.



But in honor of BYU Football and in honor of Dan, their biggest fan, I say, 

"Go Cougars!"

(And one little request from the wife of the biggest fan,  please, please win so that our home will be a happy place this week!)

Betty

 

Ava was such a punk when she was little we gave her an alias so we could talk about her and tell her stories, without her knowing we were talking about her if she happened to walk in the room.  We called her Betty.

She has grown so much in so many ways.  (Actually she really has, 3.5 inches in one year according to the doctor!) We don't even call her Betty anymore.

We are really proud of the way she is growing up and growing out of some of her "hard" tendencies.  Extreme sensitivity will hopefully continue to grow from a con to a pro.  She is still Ava, she still has her moments, and her mind works in a way that is different than any other person I've met.

She really is such a creative and individual little thing who wants to please you and say and do just the right things.  She is beautiful and kind.  And I just love her.

And quite contrary to what I've just said about how she's grown and changed, I must document this. I'm not proud of myself in the following scenario, but I'm not that ashamed either.  Obviously, because I'm sharing it.

 And I don't know when, but someday she'll appreciate this story, maybe in 20 years when she has her own rainy-parking-lot-mom-moment.  

In an effort to get out of the house this past week, we ventured to meet friends at a local church which houses a free gigantic, indoor play structure.

Apparently, on this day another event was taking place, so the normally empty parking lot was filled to bursting.  I was lucky enough to snag a spot on the very last row.

It was raining, of course, because that's what it usually does when you have to park far away and tote a bunch of children. Anyway, I had the umbrella in one hand, and Max's paw in the other.  Ava stepped right in front of Max, which resulted in him stepping, accidentally, on the back of her heel.  Which resulted in an extreme over-reaction on Ava's part. As she raised her hand in the air to smack him, while screaming profusely, I did what my reflexes told me to do, which was to use another appendage to thwart her attack since my hands were full.  I kicked her in the leg.  It was more of a blocking/separation than a kick.  And it wasn't hard, but it was quick and surprising to both of us.  And boy had I done it.

She screamed and cried and claimed she couldn't walk and insisted that it was bleeding and that it might fall off.  Really.

I continued through the rain, the kids trailing alongside me. I tried to explain while we walked (and Ava limped and wailed) that her leg was not going to fall off, that it wasn't bleeding, and that she cannot hit her brother ever, but especially when the problem was her own fault.  The tears continued and she was done with me.

Our friends met up with us on the sidewalk, and to stave off the embarrassment, Ava stopped crying immediately and walked with her face towards the wall to hide her wet, pink face.  Her little friend, totally unaware, babbled about the slides inside and asked Ava if she had ever been on the big one.

"Yes." she replied.

"Well, are you going to go on it again today?"

"No."

At this point I stepped in, "Really, Ava? You're not going to go down the slide today?"

She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, faced me in the rain, and said in her best 13 year old voice.

"Of course I'm not going on the slide! You just kicked the DEATH out of my leg!!!"



We don't see her very often anymore, but sometimes Betty is funny!

She starts second grade on Monday.  I can't believe it.  I love her so much! I pray all the time that Heavenly Father will help me love her the way He does.  There is so much to her. So many nooks and crannies, so many things I can identify with completely, and so many things I do not understand.  I want to appreciate it all.  I don't want one drop of that girl to go to waste.

Zoom In

What is it you're never supposed to talk about at a dinner party?  Religion and politics? And if you'd like to commit social suicide, go ahead and put the two together.

Right now it seems that everywhere I turn, that sinister combination is thrown in my face.  I hate politics.  I love my religion.  I hate when the two are put together.  I might be the only Mormon in the land that is not excited about a presidential candidate being Mormon.  Why? Because somehow that gives people the perceived right to take up what's precious to me, string it on a line, and spew out hateful, ignorant, disrespectful drivel all over it. Because apparently Mormons are so weird they don't even have feelings.

However different we all end up in this world, in the beginning we are all the same.  We come to this earth with a body.  There are different colors and sizes, but we come with beating hearts, with the biological desire to live and thrive.  We all need to be loved, to be taken care of, to be accepted, to be respected, to be valued, to be tolerated.

I remember clearly, sitting on a couch in 2003 with a lady at least three times my age.  I was making my way through my Therapeutic Recreation degree and working in an lock-down Alzheimer's unit at a local nursing home.  I had many experiences there that would stick with me and this qualifies as one of  those.  Every hour, we would bring cups of water around to the residents and many required help to drink it.  I was on the couch with this woman.  It was my first attempt to help in this way and to be honest, when it came right down to it, it was not a pleasant prospect.  There was the stink of aged breath and there was drool.  I paused for a minute to gather my gumption.  And then I had the thought, "How would I want someone to treat my mother if this were her?"

And I picked up my cup and did my best not to spill it down her shirt, as she swallowed and swallowed.  She may not have been my mother, but she was somebody's mother.

In every case, it is our perspective that determines our view.  And fortunately, we all have the ability to shift our perspective, however unfortunately, we're not always so willing to do so.  It's like the opposite of a Monet painting. What I mean is this, when you view the world on a macro level, from very far away, people are not people, they are only pieces of a group. They have no individuality, they have no personality, they have no face, they have no hopes, no heart, no family, no dreams.  

Shift your perspective, zoom in a ways, and the details emerge.  Colors become lines, shapes become faces. Faces with eyes, eyes that if you took the time to look into, you might catch a glimpse of the stories of their past and their hopes for the future.  You see a person, who loves and is loved, who may seem very different, but in all of the most basic ways is just like you.

I am not perfect. Mormons are not perfect. Neither are Catholics or Muslims, Republicans or Democrats, homosexuals or heterosexuals. Nobody is.

Your opinions are your own and valid, just as are mine.  I'd just ask for a second's consideration, before ugly or hateful words in regards to another person or group of people, leave your lips or your keyboard, that you zoom in a little closer and let the details come into view.  When you do, I am sure a better way to say whatever you are thinking, will come to mind. Or you might even decide that what you were thinking doesn't really need to be said at all.

Daily Details

It's been a little slow around here since we got back from our trip.  There has been alot of TV and movies and not getting dressed until late afternoon, if at all.  And mostly, that's been fine.  I'm not capable of much else and the kids could use the down time.

Unfortunately, Dan's work has been extra stressful and busy lately.  We usually enjoy his great schedule and the fact that it's pretty easy for him to leave his work at work.  But these past weeks have brought our daddy home a lot later and a lot more stressed.

It's kind of terrible timing for a busy streak, because I'm not really in a situation to compensate for him, but we're making it.  And no matter how tired he is, he always finds enough energy at the end of the day for rousing game of "Find the Zombie" which we all appreciate.



Max asked for "fwosted  wee-weets" the other day, which I finally figured out was Frosted Mini-wheats, and as with so many of my kids mispronunciations, I find I enjoy them more than the actual word and I don't correct them. That one, and his calling of the missionaries who live at my parents house, "the merries" will hopefully be long-lived.

After reminding Max repeatedly of proper store/public place behavior, he now regularly repeats the following mantra to me whenever I unbuckle him from his car seat,

"No cwhying, no cweeming, no whining."

But today as he whined on our way into Ikea, I prompted him, "Remember Max? How do we act in the store? No whining..." I paused for him to continue.  Instead he stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry,

 "Pppppffffftt!"

I contained my giggle and continued, "...no crying."

"Pppffffffftt!"

"No screaming."

"Ppppffffffftt!"

Apparently he's in the process of finding a new mantra.



A few nights after we got home, Luke was so scared of the noises in his room, that he insisted with huge crocodile tears that he sleep in Max's room.  I was really skeptical how that might go, but felt so bad because I could tell he was genuinely frightened.  I told him, "No funny business or its right back in your bed."  Cause I'm not messin' around these days.  I don't have a drop of extra energy to spare on repeated reminders to be quiet and go to sleep.

But he went right in and laid down, and without a peep, both boys were asleep in minutes.  And it's been that way ever since.  That went way smoother than I ever anticipated.  In fact I was so doubtful of a good transition, I had accepted the fact that the when the baby came, it would sleep in Luke's room with him, because that was more likely to have a decent outcome than Luke and Max in the same room.

They proved me wrong and I liked it.

In fact, it has brought about endless opportunities to enjoy one of my favorite, newly-discovered phenomenon. I discovered it when we went camping the first time.  This is very mushy, by the way, but I'm not making any apologies, because I love it. When we were all asleep there, together, in our tent, it's like the proximity of ourselves created a thick cloud of sweet love that filled that tent right up.  I sat in the early morning light, peering through the love fog and felt like heaven was right there where we were. Sleeping children exude their own kind of sweetness and this was a version of that, to the 100th power.

And then it happened again on our drive to Utah.  Nobody was even asleep.  But I looked in my rearview mirror and caught sight of each precious person and that filled-up feeling clouded up the whole van.

And then once more, when we shared our room in Midway.  Again, the sleeping child aura was at play but really, that is only part of the equation.  I think it has to do mostly with proximity.

 I like being close with my family in peaceful situations.

So now, when I check on the kids before I go to bed at night, having those two boys bodies there, together in one room, fills it a little fuller with my favorite love potion.

And it makes me happy.

Make it to March

When I got to Idaho and told my mom that my camera never even made it out of the bag in Utah, her response was, "Somethin's askew with you!"

Indeed.

  I've accepted the fact that for approximately the next 9-12 months, my performance in life is going to be sub-par, and you should too.

I'm growing another Colton, you see.  And the effect of said phenomenon is already in full swing, all of the symptoms that leave me tearful, sick, exhausted, and zitty have taken hold and I'm trying to be a big, brave girl, and just keep going.

But here is my first public admission to my loss of game.

I didn't take any pictures on our vacation.


How can I give a play by play without pictures?  No pictures means just words.  BO-RING!

Well, actually I have scrounged up enough pictures between our phones, mostly Dan's, that will have to do.

First of all, the trip overall was really great, we love our family!  We drove for the first time since we've been married and yes, that was planned before the baby nugget.  And yes, I was more than slightly concerned about those two facts coinciding.

But we made it.  In great time, and relatively great spirits.  In fact, I keep looking back and asking myself, "Were those really our kids?"  They did better than we ever hoped.  Lots of ipod playing and a few movies and snacks did their jobs.

And the thrill of staying in "a partment" (hotel) made the whole drive worth it for Luke.

The red rock beauty of southern Utah was a sight to behold especially to the kids who'd never been there.

And once we arrived, we spent the next week relaxing and having some quality family time.  Ava was so excited to share our news with each new member of the family who arrived.

We swam, watched movies, and retrieved Grandpa Don's (Or as Max would say, "Papa Don's") remote control helicopter.

The big kids were thoroughly entertained by their cousins, and when Max's interest waned it was Wallace and Grommit's Curse of the WereRabbit to the rescue!

After 8 days in the mountains, Dan and I parted ways.  He to work in Denver and me to my sister's in Idaho,  (after a quick airport pick-up of my dad).

In Idaho, I overdid it on the donuts.  I haven't eaten wheat for months but I've been saving myself for a chocolate cake donut since the trip was planned.

Unfortunately, I couldn't stop at one, though some things are worth getting sick over.  Luke was in donut heaven as well as Dallin heaven, since he got in some really great boy-cousin play time.  And of course Ava and Marin played and played.

We saw my niece dance in a parade.



The kids got to have a donut stand and made some pretty good money.

Ava's stomach ruined the cousin sleepover on the trampoline when she puked at midnight.



We took in the beauty of Mesa Falls.

And we got to go through the temple with my nephew Brayden who just recently received his call to serve in the San Fernando, California mission.

One of my favorite parts was seeing Ava so happy and at ease with her cousins.  Somehow, where she normally feels very tentative to play with other little girls, it's like she instinctively knew that these girls were a safe place, that they were family, that she didn't have to worry that they'd turn snarky or mean.  Unfortunately, a lot of little girls these days are like that and they've left her a little gun-shy.  So to see her in this free-to-be-herself state was so refreshing and worth every second we spent in the car.

The kids did equally well on the way home, though I'm not sure I can say the same thing about myself.  I was so tired and so sick and so missing my Dan.  Many thanks to my mom and dad who rode back with us and doled out snacks and movies and helped drive.

We made it.  I pulled into the garage and Dan was there to meet us.  After some hugging, I came in to find Luke, belly-down in the foyer, kissing the wood floor.

And we could all agree,

It was good to be home!