Ava at 9

 She went ahead and did it. 

Even after my explicit instructions to the contrary.

 Ava turned nine.

This past year has been a one of marked growth for her.  She seems more responsible with each day that passes.

She does her chores everyday, without reminder, without fail.

She looks after Finn and gets him after naps. In fact she helps out all the brothers. 

She is invaluable help and the perfect shot of femininity that our household needs.  She orchestrates the surprises and the thoughtful presents.  The boys are more than willing to go along, but she is the initiator.

On her birthday wish list, item #7 was: A Sister

I wasn't excited to tell her our new baby would be a boy but she has taken it beautifully, only leaving a few disparaging entries in an open diary.

She is so silly.  She loves to tell stories and jokes and does so with great animation.

She loves her books.  Her shelves are full, so next to her bed are towering stacks of her current reads.

And she has ridden the wave of this Colorado move better than I expected.

School may never be her favorite thing, but that's alright with me.  

Her teacher says she's one of the hardest workers she's seen and as far as I'm concerned, that is as much as I can ask.

I pray daily that her confidence will grow as fast as her body. 

And that she will learn to see herself for the beautiful, kind, creative, creature that she is.

As much as I hate to see her growing up, she is doing a really beautiful job of it.

Random Rundown

Sitting around the table the other night for our Family Home Evening treat, just following our discussion of summer plans and goals, I admitted that I was having trouble thinking of my goal.  And what I should have said was, that I wanted my goal to be spending less time on my phone but I wasn't sure how to turn that into a measurable thing.  Luke, being ever so helpful, thought I just needed a goal.

 "Oooh!  Oooh!  I know what your goal should be, Mom.  Your goal should be that by the end of the summer you can do the splits!"

At nine months pregnant, that would be quite a goal, indeed. I think I'm going to stick with limiting my phone time.

While I was in Chicago last month, Dan texted me this picture of the extra tooth he discovered while helping Luke brush his teeth.

The two baby guys there in front weren't really even loose.


So last week, the dentist explained, that while very common, Luke's situation would benefit from pulling those four bottom baby teeth. At six and half years old, Luke has been quite anxious to lose a tooth.  I don't think any of us expected it would happen this way, but he wasn't really worried about it and was looking forward to the 4 tooth pay-off from the Tooth Fairy.

When Max heard the news, he was devastated.

Luke kept reassuring him, "Don't worry, Max! I'm going to be fine!"


But when the day came, both Luke and I underestimated how things would go.  Really, the whole process went perfectly and was quick and smooth, just as we had been told.  But still when it was over, he was quite woozy from the laughing gas, bleeding pretty good, and generally not feeling well.

 We had planned that he would go to school after his appointment but decided a milkshake and lounging on the couch sounded better.

On the drive home, I got a call from the school nurse letting me know that Ava had stepped on a large embroidery needle on the playground at recess and it had gone through her shoe and into her foot.  The nurse assured me that since her tetanus shot was up to date, she'd probably be fine even though the needle was "huge and dirty."  Knowing Ava, I pictured her wailing and freaking out in the nurse's office, but the nurse informed me that she was already back in class and never really even cried.

It was not the Colton kid's best medical day but they both handled things well. (And I did call the pediatrician's office about Ava who also said that because tetanus was up to date, all we needed to do was watch for infection).

Luke, minus a few teeth,

A few weeks ago, I got a desk set up in our so-far-unused study for Luke to do his art and circuits and puzzles on.  After the first day, I noticed something odd.

My poor girl head was in time out.  When I asked him about it, he said she creeped him out and had to turn her around.

Aunt Leah visited us last weekend. And we loved it! Even Finn wasn't shy!

Max finished up his preschool year.  After an unfortunate incident at church a few weeks ago, when a primary teacher insisted he was sick because he used the restroom twice, and wouldn't let him return to primary, he has gotten really nervous about going to church or school.  I bribed him to go to the last day of preschool.  And thanks to Leah's genius idea to draw a heart in the palm of his hand so he would remember that I love him, he very reluctantly went to primary again.

But when it came time for the preschool program, he didn't want to do it. At dinner the night before, he told us, "tomorrow is my preschool program.  I get so nervous it's makes me sick!"

 The heart in his hand and the promise of a milk shake finally convinced him to be brave.

  

"But I'm not going to sing."

"And I'm not going to smile."

And he didn't.  

He even pulled his turn around for the picture trick. 

I didn't care though.  I told him I was just happy to see him up there.

He will have this same class again next year with these same teachers and I think that will be great.

I thought I left the tornado weather behind in Texas but I was so wrong.  Three days in a row, my cell phone went crazy with beeping and vibrating alerting me to "take shelter!" Funnel clouds spotted right near our house.  The kids had to do "duck and cover" at school for an hour one day and 20 minutes the next.  

I never felt like we ever needed to get in the basement, though.  Instead I ran outside to take pictures of the crazy clouds.

Finn has been keeping things exciting around here as usual and has exhibited quite the variation of interests.  Some are typical baby stuff, like his affinity for remote controls,

and balls,

but others are kind of weird like his love of pencils and toothbrushes. Here is the pile I gathered on my last tidy-up.

 But by far the most bizarre, is his love of brooms.  Every day he fusses until I help him get the one from behind the trash can and he digs out the other from the mud room.  And then he carries them around the house. He threatens to take people out three stooges style, which is what happens when you try to carry something three times your height. He loves them.  

One can't be sure what would inspire such a love of brooms, but I think we can all be certain that he did not inherit it from me.

A Mother Again

I've decided that I really can't be pregnant on Mother's Day.  The whole situation is a set up for some major blubbering.

We found out last week that I will be a mother again to a son. I will not lie.  When I saw the telltale anatomy on the ultrasound, I knew first thing, without any word from the ultrasound tech, and a tiny little corner of my heart broke off and sat in the pit of my stomach.

Sure, I have some superficial reasons for wanting a girl: I am so tired of the boy clothes we've been wearing around here over the past 6.5 years that if I have to pull out those old boxes again, I will set them on fire.  And I am fresh out, plum empty, completely at a loss, for another boy name.

 But mostly my heart was broken for Ava.  I knew she would be a good sport about it, even though she'd begged from the beginning to "please let it be a girl!" And I know that she will never know the difference because it's hard to miss what you never had.  But the years and years of love and support and memories with and of, my sisters scrolled through my mind and I am just sad to think that she will never have that. She will have brothers that love her and care about her.  But a sister.  Man, I would have long ago gone crazy without my sisters.

The ultrasound continued as we saw the heart beating away and his little brain.  We counted fingers and toes. He bounced all around and back and forth.  His profile was perfect with his little nose.  Max sat in a chair next to me while Dan entertained Finn, and was in awe.  By the time that ultrasound was over, there was no more room inside me for any feeling except love and gratitude.  I get to have another baby! Another boy! A mother couldn't love her sons (and daughter) any more than I love mine! And he's healthy! What in the world do I lack?

Dan and I parted ways after that, me to my doctor's appointment and he to pick up the big kids from school. We agreed that I would bring home some type of blue treat for the kids as a surprise. Max agreed that he would not tell our secret and that he would get a surprise too.

After the doctor, I stopped and got blue "It's a Boy!" balloons and a little bag of blue candies for each kid.  While I drove home and the bouquet of balloons bopped against my leg, my phone rang.  Dan told me the jig (or is it gig?) was up.   As soon as the kids got into the van after school, Max yelled,

"MOM HAS A BOY BABY IN HER TUMMY!"

Dan reminded him, "Max! You weren't supposed to tell, remember?!"

"Yeah, I renember.  I just really wanted to!"

But Dan told me Ava was happy and already thinking of boy names.  Now, if I can get her to go buy a new baby wardrobe, all my concerns will be resolved.

I am at peace.  I am happy for my new little boy.  Heavenly Father is completely aware of our family and everyone in it, that I have never doubted.  So if a little boy is the cherry on top of this crazy-town sundae, it will be delicious.  Finn and New Baby will be quite the pair at 18 months apart. I was also reminded that Ava has 5 girl cousins very near her age, all of whom she loves dearly, and all of whom can be close sister types to her as she grows up.  My prayers for that will never end.

So Sunday was Mother's Day.  I woke up to a delicious breakfast in bed, orchestrated by Ava.  And cards and presents and drawings.  It's the best way to wake up.

My mom left me a sweet message on Facebook and I got all kinds of emotional thinking of her and how much I love her.  I love her!

I have a mother and I am a mother.  These relationships surrounding me are the most fulfilling of my life.  They mean everything to me.  And it never gets old. This ain't my first rodeo. It's not my first baby. It's not my first boy. It's not my first Mother's Day.  But that's the beauty of it.  No matter how many times it happens, unlike so may other things in life, it never loses its savor.

HalfWay

On our first date Dan played me this song:

I probably shouldn't admit this but, while it sounded familiar, I had no idea what it was or who sang it.  I was a country music girl back then.  My baptism into classic rock followed as quickly as our subsequent dates. Now I know who Bon Jovi is.

And on that note, I would like to dedicate this next song to Dan Colton.



*picks up microphone*

WOOOAAHHH, we're half way there!

Livin' on a prayer.

Take my hand,

we'll make it, I swear!

WOOAAH, 

Livin' on a prayer.

We are halfway through this pregnancy! Though on the flip side I guess that also means we are halfway closer to being a full fledged circus.

We are halfway to sending our oldest kid to college!

You're halfway to retirement!

This is my pep talk for you, for us.

We've got to hold on to what we've got!

It does make a difference if we make it or not. 

We've got each other and that's a lot.

For love, we'll give it a shot!

Thanks for your late nights and hard work.  Thanks for doing the dishes.  Thanks for whispering "Baby, it's okay" when I'm crying in the night, dreaming of running away.  You are my hero. I do recognize your efforts and I love them! 

*in my best breathy Bon Jovi voice*

Hey, Danny.  It's tough.

A White Easter

I guess it's totally possible that I could be referring to a snowy Easter but I am so happy to report that it was a beautiful day and spring really does seem to be on it's way.  These are the glory days in Texas and I'm trying hard not to miss them. The flowers popping up in my yard and buds appearing are helping a little, but it's still hard.  Give it two months, I remind myself.  In two months I will not be missing it.

We know this is not our forever home, so I was really trying to live with the fresh beige paint, generously covering every wall and ceiling in the entire house.  But after a few months I gave up and hired painters.  I'm usually a DIYer but these projects were beyond my scope, especially considering it's taken a full blown operation  just to get me to make dinner every night.

Day by day, these guys turned my house into a place I was so much happier to be and a place where the furnishings looked like they actually belonged.

I stuck with the gray I knew and loved from my old house, Gentle Rain.  And I took up old habits, insisting the banister and kitchen cabinets go white.  The kids are so used to things turning white, they make comments about it all the time, which is weird to me, for them being so young.  "You really like white, don't you, Mom?"

Before

After

In fact, there was one time in Texas, probably 2 years ago, when Ava came home from school to find me painting yet another piece of furniture white.  She immediately burst into genuine tears, ran up the stairs and yelled at me from over the banister outside her bedroom door, in her perfectly dramatic way, "You always paint everything white! I hate it! I hate white! I just can't stand it anymore!" No lie, ask my mom, she was there.

Luckily, her heart has softened towards the color and she agrees that the kitchen looks beautiful, even though the boys insist they liked it the old way better.


Before

After

Anyways, I am happy. I feel like we've taken a giant step closer to making this place feel like home.  I feel like I can hang up our pictures on the wall and they will look nice.  There is still a lot to do, like window treatments all over the place, painting the last couple of rooms on the main floor, hanging our pictures and dining room mirror collection, and coming up with what I'll do over the family room couch.  It's times like these that I really miss my mom.

I was really looking forward to Easter which was probably my first mistake.  It is my favorite holiday. But Easter morning did not go quite as planned.  Somehow, Easter caught the Christmas virus and the boys showed up in our bed just before 6am because they were so anxious to find what the Easter bunny left them.  They've always enjoyed their Easter baskets but this was the first year I felt that stupid bunny overshadowed everything else.  So, I was out of sorts before I even got out of bed.  We did make the resurrection rolls, but most of our conversation was drowned out by candy talk (except Ava who probably loves Easter as much as I do).  

We ran out of time getting ready for church but I was dead set on getting a picture of the kids together.  So I plopped them all on the couch, promised them an extra reese's egg and started snapping.  Dan stood to the side being his best silly self and ensuring this one golden shot.

We got to church too late to get a seat and had to spend Sacrament meeting in the foyer.  Which was the perfect location for my Easter let-down, hormonal pity party. I spent the rest of the meetings following a fussy Finn through the halls. Happy Easter!

The highlight of this day though,  was heading down to Colorado Springs after church to my brother Bret's house. Dinner was delicious and it was so comforting to spend the evening with family.  The weather was great for the gigantic Easter Egg hunt my nieces set up.

 The kids had so much fun.

 And Ava and cousin Sara get along like old pals, though I didn't get any pictures of them together, sadly.

The rest of the evening was spent in the backyard talking and shooting hoops, and I can't speak for anyone else, but I kept wishing they weren't really going to be moving to Oregon this summer.


 

Because thanks to them, by the end of the night, I could say "Happy Easter!" and really mean it.