Luke's Baptism, August 1, 2015

The danger in not blogging frequently, for me, is that in the absence of necessary brain cells, I lose track of details.  

Luke's baptism was wonderful.  I'm sure it was.  If only I could remember what happened.  Let's see, perhaps if I retrace my steps...

The week started off with Girl's Camp.  I was the Laurel advisor (I have since been been put in cub scouts which is a different blog post entirely.  And at the rate I'm going it will be published next Spring.  Or never.)  But anyways, I went to Girl's Camp.  And had a fun time, didn't get much sleep, and missed the camp experiences of my Texas past.  Camp in Dallas was truly an inspired endeavor, and sometimes you can't appreciate something fully until you don't have it anymore.  The way the Stake operated and involved the girls, from beginning to end, made a difference I won't forget. Still camp was enjoyable.

Okay. So. I went to camp and had a fun time and then late Friday night, after testimony meeting, I returned home at 12:30 am in preparation for Luke's baptism the next morning. While I had been at camp, both my parents and my in laws had arrived in town.

In the morning, I prepared the talk on Baptism, got everyone dressed, and we were on our way.

Luke shared his baptism day with another boy in our ward named Andrew. His mother gave the talk on the Holy Ghost.

When I got up to speak to those boys about baptism, I was impressed to tell them that the Lord had a great work in store for them to do.  I felt the Spirit so strongly as I looked into their faces.  I know they both have wonderful things ahead of them.

The boys and their siblings then sang, I am a Child of God and it was lovely.  Even Finn could participate because that is one of his favorites.  

Following the baptism, we had a few of the boys' favorite treats, brownies (made by Ava the Baker) and root beer floats.

I told Luke he could choose how we spent the rest of the day.  He decided on a hike with the family in El Dorado Canyon, followed by hamburgers and hot dogs on the grill at home.  

It was wonderful to have our parents in town to celebrate with us.  

For months leading up to Luke's baptism we talked about the significance of the promises he would make.  And even moreso, the significance of the promises that the Lord would make in return.  I am so grateful for a Heavenly Father whose plan covers every detail and provides for every mean of getting us back to Him.  And for a Savior whose willingness to complete and sacrifice for that plan, for us, enables us to draw closer to heaven, everyday if we'd like.  And I'm grateful for a son, who at the tender age of 8 years old, recognizes the importance, even if not fully, enough to make this choice to follow Jesus Christ.

School 2015

I feel like I overdosed on children and I'm lying comatose on the floor of my closet. When I wake up I have no trouble accepting the fact that I have very nearly lost control of my life entirely.

But I just can't quit these kids.


School started.


Luke loves second grade.  He loves his teacher and his friends.  He loves recess and math.  He just loves it all.

Max was hesitant. Tentative.  He wanted to like school but he was still a little nervous.

And he was really not happy about me wanting to take his picture.

 I can't say, "I can't believe he's in kindergarten!" because he just missed the cut off last year so it's more like, "It's about time he was in kindergarten."  He is ready, even if he is apprehensive.


A few days before school started, I got a call from his kindergarten bus driver.  She would pick him up right in front of our house and the only other kids on the bus would be kindergartners as well.

I hadn't really considered him riding the bus but this sounded kind of dreamy.

So I talked it up like a grade A motivational speaker and after thinking about it, Max bought in, on the condition that I draw two hearts on each hand and give him eight hugs and eight kisses before he got on the bus.

I didn't expect Finn to be quite so disappointed that he couldn't ride too, but once he figured out that no amount of screaming was going to get him on the bus, he now just gets really excited to see it each day and giggles uncontrollably as it drives away with Max waving through the window.

Ava and I have started fifth grade homeschool.  And I'm not gonna lie, it's been hard.  Really, really hard.

If you looked around, you'd see the blame, perched proudly under the tiny, dangling-off-the-edge-of-the-sofa feet of Finn and Jack.

Let me illustrate.

Ava and I are at the table in the basement, adjacent to a plethora available toys,  playing a math game.  But despite those toys, both little boys insist on being over with us.  Fine. We can work with that.

 As we're playing, we come upon a concept that Ava is not understanding and so I begin to write out some patterns on the white board behind me.  It's a little hard with Finn sitting on my lap, to turn around in my seat and write, but I manage a slew of numbers and begin to explain. When wouldn't you know it, Jack begins screaming.  It's because he doesn't like the feeling of the crayon wax he's just eaten, stuck in his teeth.  Ava's frustration grows because the light bulb hasn't turned on yet and babies are screaming.

I leave Finn to retrieve Jack, scrape out the wax between wails and I turn around to see that Finn, standing on my chair, has just erased the last of the columns worth of patterns I'd written on the board.

Yeah, it's like that.

After a couple of days of it, I started working on Ava, trying to get her to see that if we pushed some of our lessons back to the afternoon, during nap time, at least part of our work could be done without the dooby brothers.  She really likes to get her work done, she hates the idea of it hanging over her head and I can't blame her, but I was honestly doubting my ability to teach and hers to learn in the above mentioned environment.  She finally agreed to give it a try and I am just praying everyday that soon, every single one of us, will find our mojo.  

I'm trying really hard to take some deep breathes in hopes of relieving the great pressure I feel as a mother/teacher combination.  If I could only see the future.  If I only knew whether she'd want to return to public school at some point, or if she will have a great desire to go to a University and need to take the ACT.  There's just so much I don't know, that if I did, would greatly impact how and what I taught.

As we've worked together these past few months, I've gained greater insight and much greater appreciation for the way Ava's mind works.  But even so, it is really still so much a mystery.  She is smart, there's no doubt. But the way she thinks and learns is so very different.  I hope that one day we will both understand it better and that she will come to enjoy the act of learning.  Right now it is such a chore that it is, not surprisingly, hard for her to enjoy.   Though I must say, coming home has been the best thing for her.  She actually says that she likes homeshool and she looks forward to it, which is such a huge win, even the dynamic duo can't drown it out!

In an effort to rearrange the day, we've taken advantage of the beautiful weather and gone on a walk each morning.

I was so sad the neighborhood decided to develop the green space near our house, but at least it provides all the diggers and dirt a little boy could dream of.

And we finally ventured down to the stream that runs behind our neighborhood park.

I anticipate a few more trips there in the future.

I've been struggling to find my peace these days.  To not let my worry about the future, about the unknown, rob me of my ability to be productive and happy.  It has been a struggle.  I want so badly to hand my children a future they're excited about.

I keep having the thought come to mind that I need to dive into my scriptures.  Whether they give me literal answers or spiritual promptings, they always, always give me peace when I read them consistently.

When I returned to the school after the first day of kindergarten, my boys rounded the corner like this. Of course I cried and took a picture. And if this scene is any indication, 

I'm sure there will be some rain and difficulty this year, but as long as we can hold hands through it (and not sell our babies on Ebay) I think we'll be just fine.

Luke is 8

I just can't even pretend I don't think my boy isn't one of the most beautiful things on this planet.

It's just really good we don't live in New York or LA or I'd be one of those crazy parents dragging my kid to auditions and trying to my best to pad his college fund and our retirement plan with his face.

 I know I'm completely biased, but since I formed him from a microscopic egg, I think it's totally my prerogative.

I mean, come on.  If he was selling something, you'd buy it right?

He's eight though.  My biggest boy is eight.

And he's more than just a pretty face.

He's super smart, 

And a little spacey.

He's blunt and realistic.

Yet tender and quiet.

When I played pretend with my sister as a child, the character I preferred to be was one with brown hair and blue eyes.  I'd never met anyone like that before, but I always imagined it would look beautiful.

And now I know I was right.

Friday Sermon

I'm behind on things I'd like to post and it's not even Sunday, but the Holy Ghost taught me something today that I need to write down.

Max starts kindergarten on Monday.  A few weeks ago, I got a call from the school nurse informing me that he was not current on quite a few of the required shots.  I have strong personal feelings about vaccinations and I am fully aware of the controversial nature of my views.

Ava received most of her vaccinations on the recommended schedule, but by the time Luke was a few months old, I was starting to feel very conflicted about that schedule.  It's not that I don't believe they work, or that I believe they cause autism, or that I don't want my kids protected against horrible diseases.

I just started to feel that the amount of vaccinations given at one time was too much.  For my kids.  I can't speak for anyone else's children.  But for those people over whom I have stewardship, the idea that it was not in the best interest of their bodies to send in so much at one time became very strong.  

Ava received the MMR at 3 years old as a requirement for entrance into a private preschool.  Her entire thigh, from nearly hip to knee was swollen, hard, hot, and red for about 5 days. I'm just glad she didn't  recieve it at 18 months along with the other 5-7 recommended vaccines.

I have searched high and low each time we've moved to find a pediatrician who will respect me and work with me.  I have had to leave a few practices, but I am committed to my feelings and impressions and in doing what is best for my children.

So when the nurse called me, I wasn't surprised, and I aim to have the kids all caught up by kindergarten, so I called the pediatrician's office to work out a plan for him to get caught up in the few weeks before school started. 

Last week, while I was at girls camp, he received the chicken pox and polio vaccines. 

And today he was scheduled to get MMR and Hep B. 

But for the past few days I just wasn't feeling good about it. As the appointment neared, my hesitation zeroed in on the MMR. He'd had his first dose a few years ago without complication, so I wasn't sure why I was worried about it. But I was. I nearly cancelled the appointment but ended up deciding early this morning to go ahead and go, talk it through with the nurse, and see about just getting the Hep B and doing whatever it would take to get an exemption (temporarily) for the vaccines he was missing.

And as I drove there, I did what I'm best at and questioned my sanity.

Am I crazy?

Am I just paranoid?

Are my worries valid? 

Should I follow my gut?

Why can't I just be normal and go with the plan?

Well, when I got into the room and the medical assistant confirmed with me our plans for MMR and Hep B, I voiced my concerns, and she was thankfully, very nice. She went back and forth a few times finding out info for me regarding the exemption and the optimal scheduling of the remaining vaccines. 

There was some confusion on what the best order would be and she initially told me if he got the MMR today, he could not receive any other vaccine for 6 weeks because it is a live vaccine. 

But after another check with in with her superiors, she explained her mistake. Having the MMR today did not mean he couldn't receive any other vaccine for 6 weeks, only that he could not receive another LIVE vaccine for 6 weeks. No live vaccines within 6 weeks of each other. So getting the MMR today would be fine, she said. 

Then it came to me.

 Just last week Max received the chicken pox vaccine. A live vaccine. MMR would not be fine today. 

All at once my swirling worries twirled around me one last time and settled very clearly in my view.

When I reminded her about last week's live vaccine, she paused as the realization dawned on her face. 

"Oh my gosh, you're right. (The Holy Ghost is always right.) He can't get the MMR today."

So he got the Hep B, I got my exemption form, and we were on way to Kinder Meet and Greet.

As I drove I had plenty of time to, instead of question myself, thank my Heavenly Father for his watchful care and for the impressions of the Holy Ghost. 

Without a doubt, had I not questioned the plan, Max would have gotten that shot today. 

And whether the results would have been dire or minor, it was important enough, either for Max's health or merely as an added brick to my testimony of God's watchful care, the information came and I am so glad I listened. 

"In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths." Proverbs 3:6

Experiences like these are a cycle that strengthen my trust in the Lord and perpetuate me to further acknowledge Him, which in turn, ensures His continued guidance in my life. 

And I will acknowledge Him forever for the great love and tenderness with which He directs my thoughts and abilities to care for the children we both love. 

The Tale of the Tooth Fairy

In response to our inquiry for a playdate, some friends let us know that they'd love to play but their girls were participating in a 4 day musical camp/production, but maybe Ava would like to join them?

I told them I'd ask, but I had my doubts. Ava has expressed interest in theater before but just felt too shy when it came right down to it.  And while she has a lovely voice, she'd gotten self conscious about anyone hearing her. 

So that's why I was rightfully shocked but thrilled when she decided she'd actually like to do it.

It was intense.  There were 4 days of practice (Wed-Sat), 5 hours per day, with a performance on Saturday night.  Which, as many hours as that sounds, it was still a stretch to learn a solo and two group songs as well as speaking lines.  

But Ava showed up and worked hard and came home and worked more.

She read through the script before the first practice and thought of the different characters she'd like to be.  And when she came home that first day, she was so excited to tell me she was going to be one of two (not so sweet) Tooth Fairies.

She practiced her solo over and over.  And to her credit, the song was not easy.  The woman putting this on wrote the script and all the music herself. She is amazing.  But Ava's song, "My Collection", was one where the melody wasn't exactly easy to hear in the accompaniment. 

  

Even so, by that last day, Ava had a pretty good handle on it.  

Early Saturday morning, Ava was beside my bed sobbing.  

She was sick.  And if there's one thing we've learned as Ava's parents these past 10 years, it's to believe her when she says she's sick.  

I couldn't believe it.  A very similar thing kept her from performing in our ward talent show just after we'd moved to Colorado.  This seemed so ironic and so not fair.  She had worked so hard.  And she was more distraught about missing the show than she was about being sick.  Still, I held out hope.

Much of their practice hours had been outside in the sun, and since she really had no other symptoms, I was thinking maybe it was combo of sunstroke and being overly tired.

But by mid morning, she was curled up on the couch with a fever.  

We just kept praying that even if she couldn't be miraculously healed, that she could at least be well enough to perform.   

I arranged for her to go that evening about an hour before the performance instead of in the afternoon for the 5 hour practice beforehand.  Luckily she had her parts down, so missing the practice wasn't the end of the world. I dosed her up with Tylenol and dropped her off.

As we came back for the show that night, hoping she was still in one piece, Max, on his own, said he'd like to say a prayer for her.  Now Max might currently be in one of his most annoying, button-pushing phases to date, but it's moments like these that remind me how sweet and good he is at his core.

His prayer worked.  

When we got there she was so excited.  

The play was super cute and all of our kids loved every minute. 

 Ava said her lines and sang her song and did great.  She didn't even seem that nervous.  Or sick, luckily. 

After the show, we had promised a special celebratory treat, but instead of dinner at a restaurant, we settled for milkshakes in the car so we could get Ava home to rest sooner.

Her first stop was the couch, tired but proud.

And Monday morning our first stop was the doctor because she still wasn't better.

Turns out our little Tooth Fairy had strep throat.  

On Wednesday, as we literally said goodbye to a couple of new friends who had come to play, Max ran over to the couch and said he was sick. 

 Two hours later he was like this.

A trip to urgent care confirmed the obvious:

He had strep throat.

And so did I.

I texted our new friends to apologize for unknowingly inviting them over to get strep.  I haven't heard a word back so I'm thinking they might have moved quickly from new friends to not friends.

The next day the rest of the boys tested positive as well.

We drove home, a van-full of strep.

Dan was the only one to escape. But a few days into our antibiotics, we were all as good as new and still humming "My Collection".