Where I am...

If You Can Dream It...

2011-07-19T08:41:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a dream. In it, Smokey Robinson was pregnant. It was completely unexplainable. Does he have a uterus? He must! Will he be able to nurse? creepy. Delivery? Just sayin... It would have been of no personal concern to me were he not on my intramural football team through work. There was a big dilemma; do we throw the ball to him and risk hurting him and the baby, who may or may not be protected by amniotic fluid because it may or may not be incubating in a uterus? It may just be floating amidst organs in his abdominal cavity. Or do we let me run with the ball? I knew I could run, but was I coordinated enough to run and carry a football and possibly zig and zag to avoid the opposing team who all happen to be between 6'5" and 6'7"? There was no way to know… But while my teammates were debating I excused myself to go to the restroom. I ended up in the men’s restroom with an elderly Asian man.

To say I woke up completely boggled would be an understatement. Then Lennon handed me this sign before I even had a chance to open both of my eyes(no boys allowed except dad and mom)

It only furthered the confusion. Maybe I am a boy? Maybe intramural football was my calling in life and i missed it? Maybe I was supposed to be trained up in the ways of life and public restroom etiquette by an elderly Asian man? Maybe, and more likely, I need a solid night of uninterrupted sleep and my exhausted nursing brain just overtook my dreams. I may never know…

There

2011-07-07T23:44:00.000-07:00

You know how there are certain events or places that make you reflect back every time they roll around? And the one certain event or place makes you realize that time is marching on? For me that certain event and place is camping on the chilly California beach in June. It’s become, in the past few years, a marker of sorts. Reminding me where I’ve been. Where I am. And that there is much to look forward to.

About 2 years ago an incident took place that rocked my world. I was rocked and shocked and found myself questioning a lot of my ‘truths’. It was when I was in this slight state of shock I found myself There, camping on the beach. Being soothed by the waves and anchored back down to reality. It was There I wondered if there was ever again peace to be found and a few walks along the beach and runs along the bustling Coast Highway, and knowing looks and nods from Ryan telling me that I was okay, gave me flickers of hope that yes, there would be someday. That week we soaked in the sun, I boogie boarded for the very first time beside my kids and nieces and one of the best friends I’ve ever had, I’m sure we all ate too much and laughed too hard and stayed up too late. I probably lost the annual speed competition, I’m sure that I laughed at a few of my brother in law’s cheesy jokes, and I know rolled my eyes at a few more, I most definitely gazed upon the beauty of my beachy babies with unkempt manes and suntanned skin and tried to let myself be pulled out of the state I was in. It was a healing place for me. There, surrounded by nature, family, friends and the simplicity of a tent and a suitcase. No schedule or unrealistic demands being forced upon me. I couldn’t have handled them that year. There was exactly what I needed.

Fast forward one year. One year ago. There again. On our first day in California I took a trip to the store to grab a few things we needed. I was all alone and got lost along some back country roads just a few miles off the beautiful coast. While being lost wasn’t ideal and it took me an eternity to find my way to the store, the cool air, beautiful scenery and anticipation of the week ahead brought me to a place of pure contentment. I had the windows rolled down and the radio turned up. It was on that errand that I decided to run into Target and get a couple more things for the week. On a whim, I decided to buy a pregnancy test. The likelihood of it being positive wasn’t great, in fact, I knew I was being ridiculous but I just wanted to make sure. Once I paid and had the test in my possession, I couldn’t wait the few days I had planned to wait. I took it right there in the target restroom and found out that I was going to be a mama again. Instantly, I entered a new state of shock and unexplainable peace. I remember repeating “Wow. [pause] okay. [pause] Okay. [pause] Okay…” over and over again. That night I told Ryan. We were all cozied up, the kids were worn out and sleeping soundly, and he and I were reading in our tent. He had much the same reaction I had. A calm shock. A beautiful shock. An electrifying, glorious shock, blanketed by pure peace. Much different than the shock I had experienced just one short year before. What a difference a year makes.

Fast forward one year from last. Just a few weeks ago. Each of us pulled into camp a little bit different than we were the year before. But even with the changes, some things remain constant. Again, I laughed loudly, ate well, gazed upon my beachy babies with unkempt manes and loved every minute of it. We detoured from our beach haven to Sea World one day and I couldn’t wait to get back to our camp and tuck my babies in their beds in our temporary tented home. This year I watched pelicans fly in perfect v formations, read books, ate donuts, snuggled my pajama wearing sweet, sweet baby. I marveled at how fast time goes and how fast kids grow up. This year, being There with my family and friends and a new baby who was just an itty bitty embryo one short year ago makes me grateful that time marches. One night during this trip I was lulled from sleep in the night by a quote being whispered from heaven into my ear over and over and over until I was fully awake and recognized it for the teacher it was.

“Now is the high-tide of the year,
And whatever of life hath ebbed away
Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer…
Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it,
We are happy now because God wills it.”

I still feel the effects of two Junes ago. Sometimes it feels good to reflect on that time. Mostly I’d rather not. I also still feel the effects of last June. And mostly, it’s still beautiful and the unexplainable blanket of peace is still wrapped solidly around us. I was not without my own markers this year, tokens of where I am. I’m hoping to look back next year and see some healing and progress at best, understanding at least. As we packed up and erased our footprints and readied camp for another family to come in and fill the space with their laughter and memories I couldn’t help but think that now is a high tide. And with the high tide, treasures are washed up and left along the sandy way to be picked up by passersby when the tide gets low, pulled back out by an unseen force. Some treasures immediately deemed beautiful to the naked eye, and others broken bits of ocean dregs that grow me and stretch me and give me pause to wonder if they are worthy of putting in my pocket and declaring beautiful or simply worthy of a toss back out to sea.

Fast forward, one year from now. I hope to be There again. Still happy because God wills it. Still appreciating whatever of life hath ebbed away. Still with a heart so full that a drop overfills it. No matter what, recognizing that this life, with its ebbs and flows is a blessing. And I couldn’t be more grateful for my trips to There to help remind me of just that.

Back By Popular Demand

2011-05-07T22:19:00.000-07:00

i've had so much i would have liked to say on this little corner of my world as of late, but sometimes when i don't write for a long time it's because i am over-inspired. (too much to say, so i say nothing) sometimes it's because i'm under-inspired (not in a consistently pleasant mood long enough to write about good things). my state of medium inspired seems to get me in front of the computer the most. now i can't remember most of what i have been feeling so inspired by. maybe next time i am feeling medium inspired i'll remember.

in the mean time you're probably wondering what is back by popular demand. it's my kiddos in their annual school talent show. and maybe i throw around the term 'demand' a little loosely. actually grandma (gogo) just asked me to put these videos up on the blog for lauren (hi lauren!!). but i guess you could say back by popular demand because gogo is popular. she has a walking group and a book club. pop-u-lar.

without further ado...

piper.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jIv1DxYeWpI

and crayton. (lennon wanted to do an act with her friend but on the day of try-outs her friend backed out so Crayton promised her a spot in his act)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g63LTMOpAj0

9 weeks

2011-04-14T18:24:00.000-07:00

smiles like crazy when he wakes up.

figured out how to get his fists to his mouth consistently.

tries really hard to coo at us.

is 'this close' to a first giggle.

is 12.5 lbs.

still loves to stare at the blinds.

loves to ride in his car seat.

is taking his first road trip this weekend.

his cry has changed to a big baby cry.

pooped through his clothes at church on sunday.

only cries when he is hungry or wants to be asleep.

is almost always soothed by an 'it's okay' from mama.

lets me suck his boogers with the booger sucker and hardly ever cries. (i love booger suckers.)

he's precious. just precious.

quoteable crue

2011-04-14T13:21:00.000-07:00

** when crue saw this picture of himself he said "wow! I am so 'mazing."**

Major- "Waaaahhhh waaaaaahhhhh wahhhhhhhhhh"

Mom- "oh! Major is awake."

Crue- "Oh, oh! I wiww (will) save him!" *(runs into Major's room at a pace he refers to as 'hot speed'.)*

Crue upon return- "Don't wo-wee (worry) mom. i saved him. I gave him his bink. Woo, (shakes his head) he was sooo wobegone."

yes, he said wobegone. i love it.

Warning: Excessive Use of the M word

2011-04-05T12:22:00.000-07:00

It’s getting warm around here. When it gets warm the bugs start to wake up and explore their world/mate. Right now the bugs that seem to be most eager to wake up and get going on mating/annoying me by excessive reproduction (I’m sure the same thing has been said about me) are carpet beetles. Crue LOVES carpet beetles. A lot. They are each so special to him and he takes them in as pets.

A couple of weeks ago we found a lizard on the rug in the bathroom. After a neighbor boy came over to catch it for me (I’m not afraid of lizards I just get a little jumpy when they get jumpy. and when they get jumpy they run away from me and hide and die in my underwear drawer. It’s happened) Crue insisted on taking that in as a pet as well. I let it out that night though because I felt sad for it. When Crue woke up the next morning and discovered it was gone, he stripped down to his birthday suit and went out back to find it. All the while wailing. I should have invested in some sack cloth and ash for all the wailing and weeping and gnashing of teeth he was doing. He was so devastated. He was crying ‘wizud! I wub you! Pweese come back! Ahhhh!!!!!!’ over and over and over… so sad, but funny because who mourns in the buff?

Back to the carpet beetles… Crue found one the other day and thought he won the lottery. He came to me and said ‘Mommy! I found a pet cawpet beet-o. He’s so cute and he’s my fwend (friend). And his name is Mucous. And I need to find him a cozy home.’ Well, he found him a home (a red plastic cup) but mostly he carried him around and talked to him. There were conversations like the following going on all morning…

“Mucous, come-e-uh...” (come here)

“Mucous, we need to get you some pants on!”

“Mucous, yuh (you’re) tick-u-wing my awm!”

“Oh, Mucous! Don’t be a-fwaid sweety. I’ve got you, I’ve got you…”

“Mom, can Mucous come wiff us to Tawget?”

"Oh, yo-uh (you're) a witt-oh (little) cutie, awen't you, Mucous?"

Ryan and I found ourselves saying things like:

“Crue, put Mucous back in the cup!”

“Crue! No playing with Mucous in our bed!”

“Crue, does Mucous have his pants on yet? We’ve got to go!”

There's never a dull moment around here when there’s Mucous involved.

Soul Voice

2011-04-03T20:48:00.001-07:00

My sister in law gave me an assignment to spend a week or two 'noticing' and then to write about it on her blog. The following was my experience re-posted here for my own journaling purposes...When you get a minute check out her blog. There's an awesome give away right now... and it ends tonight!!

There’s a voice that has moved into my head. He’s pulled up a chair, grabbed himself a snack and decided to set up camp. Permanently. In fact, when Remi gave me the task of ‘noticing’ he started speaking to me more loudly and clearly than he ever has before.

He’s not a voice that I like to listen to but he’s just so loud and obnoxious. When he is yelling at me he talks with his mouth full, he burps, he farts, and if I could see him, I bet he would have moles all over his hairy back and sweat a lot when he sleeps. All of those things would be forgivable if his intentions weren’t to be destructive to my soul. But they are. And in my assignment to simply notice, I came to know his intentions all too well.

When I embarked on my task of noticing I was excited to see what would show up. What things would pop out from right under my nose that I could come to love and appreciate even deeper or possibly for the first time. I looked at nature. Didn’t notice anything different. Looked at people. Didn’t notice anything different. Looked at concepts and tried to conform them into an ‘experience’. Nada. Then I looked at myself and the Voice helped me notice plenty. Plenty of things that I needed to work on. (yikes!)

As the week progressed he helped me ‘notice’ that I wasn’t enough. Wasn’t grateful enough. Wasn’t proficient enough. Wasn’t keeping up on the laundry enough. Wasn’t meeting my children’s needs enough. Wasn’t giving our pet chinchilla enough attention. I wasn’t skinny enough or pretty enough. Wasn’t being a good enough friend. Wasn’t fun enough. Wasn’t smart enough. Wasn’t being a good enough daughter or sister. Wasn’t making dinner enough. Wasn’t grocery shopping enough. Wasn’t being kind enough to my husband. The signs were everywhere. I wasn’t enough. I just wasn’t. (enough doesn’t sound or look like a real word when you say/type it a whole bunch of times)

Well, thanks to the voice I realized that this task of writing about the things I came to notice would be easy. The voice would write it for me and it would go like this: “I suck. The end.” I didn’t have to write anything. No editing. No worrying about what I just revealed about myself to the cyber world. Easy enough. This voice takes such good care of me that way.

But then another voice started showing up. The Opposition. Because I do believe that there is that: Opposition in all things. And the opposition: the Opponent, the Challenger, started showing me some things to take note of: to challenge. And this Voice showed me things in the gentlest of ways. It didn’t burp at me, yell at me, or sweat in my bed. It was beautiful, calm, piercing and I knew that what it was teaching me was true. It didn’t hunker down in my head and stay there. It eased into my blood and flowed through the deepest parts of Me. Warming me until I knew that this Voice, my Soul Voice was the one that I needed to pay attention to, even if it was so much quieter than the voice I had given away my power to all week long.

I was driving to the store late one night. It was the first time I had left my new baby and was alone. I was exhausted from the lack of sleep combined with the new, tricky transition into life with 5 children. I was in pajamas (from the night before), wearing a spit up stained t-shirt, and bandana on my head to cover up my greasy hair. (You can imagine the hay-day the voice in my head was having with me.) I was listening to a talk on the radio and heard a story recounted. My Soul Voice quietly told me to listen up because there was a message in it just for me.

It was a true story of a jumbo jet that crashed over the Everglades 36 years ago. The interesting thing about this story is that the plane could have landed safely in Miami, just over 20 miles away. But during the final descent of the flight, the crew noticed that a little green light failed to illuminate. The light indicated whether the nose landing gear had successfully extended. The pilots decided to investigate the lights failure and put the plane in a holding pattern and circled above the Everglades. All of the crew members were so distracted by the examination of the little green light that no one noticed that the plane had begun to descend until it was too late. The plane crashed into the swamp below and over one hundred people lost their lives.

Investigators determined that the plane was in perfect mechanical condition at the time of the crash. The nose landing gear was functioning properly that night. The problem: one tiny, burned out, green light bulb.

When I heard that story I couldn’t help but think about how I had been feeling. I realized that by listening to the voice in my head telling me over and over that I wasn’t enough, I was focusing on my little green light bulb; my flaws. If this pattern of thinking continued what would be my demise? Not the swampy everglades but feeling like a wreck of a mother to my five beautiful children who need me to be happy. Who need me to love me. Who need me to lead them by being an example of strength, dignity, grace and joy. If I kept listening I wouldn’t be letting the voice ruin just me, but all of them too. The price was too high to give him any more attention.

The next day, I read a blog post written by one of my friends. I’m sure to her it was just a quick vent to acknowledge and record her day. But my Soul voice told me to pay attention so I did. Her post read:

Today I was mean and grumpy and irritable and fed-up (when I wasn't being long-suffering, encouraging, patient, and attentive, because let's be honest, there was some of that, too)…

When I read that post it hit me like a ton of bricks. Mr. Moley-back voice said ‘you don’t like your kids either. You were mean, grumpy, fed up and irritable too.’ But after I told him to quiet himself, I Listened and Saw what I was Supposed to see. “…when I wasn’t being long-suffering, encouraging, patient and attentive…” I was those things sometimes too.

When my friend acknowledged her strengths she wasn’t bragging or staking her claim on having perfection all figured out. Nope, she was just saying ‘I’m not so bad.’ She was listening to her Soul voice, the one who tells her who she truly is. It made me realize that there wasn’t any harm in acknowledging that in myself too. I’m okay. At least parts of me are enough.

My Soul voice has gently, but pointedly, spoken to me many, many more times this week, each time teaching me to pay attention to the good in me. Once while watching Little Women, many times while parenting my babies, many other times in being a wife and a friend and a daughter and a sister, sometimes while listening to the radio. I’m happy to report that the obnoxious houseguest in my head has quieted himself now. At times he stands at the window knocking and I ask him if he has anything constructive to tell me. He usually sulks away silent. He’s becoming more obedient when I tell him to shush. He knows that my Soul Voice has moved in to stay and she likes to keep a clean house. And he’s not welcome in her domain.

So what did I ‘notice’ after all? That I am hopelessly flawed. I always will be. But it is my flaws, my scars, my imperfections mixed together with my kindness, beauty, and amazing sense of humor (it’s true, ask my husband. I’m one funny lady) that make up the whole of me. My unique blend of imperfection always leaves room for unwanted house guests to move into my head and set up shop. It’s my sacred job as a woman, as a human being, as a spiritual being to stop it before it taints my Soul. You know what else I noticed? That I am enough. Being enough doesn’t equate to perfection or mean that I have overcome all of my weaknesses or don’t have room to grow and improve every moment of every day. But that my Soul Voice is right, I’m not so bad after all.

ugly is such a strange word.

2011-03-21T21:10:00.000-07:00

Today started out good. Really good. The kids were going back to school after being off for spring break. (no, that’s not why it was good. I missed them. But I didn’t miss their messy ways.) They got up and got ready on time. No fighting, lunches made, teeth brushed, backpacks loaded up and we were even on time. Not one person in my vehicle had to run to avoid a tardy mark. We even had time for terms of endearment and public displays of affection. Hugs, kisses, the works. Miracles. Then when we got home I got my chubby mr. Major out of his seat and he smiled at me. He doesn’t just throw around smiles. You really have to work for them. It was pretty exciting. Then, I got Crue out of his car seat and he hugged me tight and said that I was “da best mommy in da hoe (whole) enti-eh (entire) city.” And I had a distinct thought. “This is going to be a good day.”

I was wrong. It wasn’t. And now I am going to bed.

but how about I leave you with some random pictures that made me smile tonight? and tonight, that's no small feat.

Halloween 2010. Crue is holding his underpants. That means thank heaven for that pumpkin.

Crazy hair day 2010
still crazy hair day 2010.
family pictures november 2010. i almost posted the one of Ryan grabbing my behind. but i decided to save that for a special post. like an anniversary post or a 'ryan likes my butt' post. I really wrote a 'ryan likes my armpits' post a long time ago. i never posted it because that's strange. but now that it's out. maybe tomorrow?

and finally, me high on pain medication. it's humbling due to it's ugliness, but for some reason, really funny.

Here's to hoping that tomorrow isn't as ugly as it was today. which was about as ugly as me on pain medication. i know. ugly.

In a Nutshell

2011-03-06T10:55:00.000-08:00

www.terilynephotography.blogspot.com

**Major started growing eyelashes Wednesday. They’re proving to be beautiful.

**He also (just yesterday) lost his newborn look and turned into a cherub overnight. I hate and love when that happens.

**Crue’s accent (New York) changed. I almost cried. He has had the best accent for so long. For example: He no longer says Maj-eh and now says Maj-o. It’s a milestone.

**Crue stayed in his bed all night last night. This is HUGE. They say that giving kids presents (aka bribes) for following basic family rules (rules like you sleep in your own bed all night) isn’t good parenting. It might come back to bite us, but he got a new car that climbs walls when he woke up this morning. And if/when it happens again, I have more ‘rewards’ where that came from.

**I turned the big 3-3.

**My mom gave me 8 dinners (premade and frozen) for my birthday. So Awesome! I can’t think of a thing to cook these days. My post baby brain can’t think about food. Such a great birthday present from mom! Tons of work, and thought and sacrifice. I’m very very grateful. I think she got worried one night when she asked what we were having for dinner and I told her that I told the kids that they could pick a can of anything they wanted and eat it for dinner. But, to my credit, I said it like we were going to Disneyland. Like this: “Mom, what’s for dinner?” “Oh my goodness, you guys…Dinner is going to be so fun tonight! (8 big eyes looking at me like something might have changed and I might actually have thought about dinner for once) You (smile, high eyebrows)…get to go to the pantry and pick your very own can of ANYTHING you want!” They weren’t impressed. And we ended up at chick-fil-a (or was that the night ahlena got us a pizza?)

**I FINALLY decided how I am going to decorate Major’s bedroom. I’ll take pictures. Hint: Charcoal walls. So excited. Ryan’s parents got me a hefty gift card to Home Depot for my birthday to jump start my project. I love Home Depot so this was also very exciting. A good chunk of change that won’t go toward weed killer or light bulbs. But toward fun things like paint and some plants! I can’t wait to get started. (until I think about actually getting started.)

**I like to think that I’m not a huge fan of my birthday and I like to think that my love language isn’t ‘gifts’ because it implies a certain shallowness. But apparently it is my (secondary) love language. I like gifts. But if you want to hear how un-shallow I am, listen up: Ryan got me a sweater/sweatshirt from Anthropologie that I think about a lot. I’m taking it back because I can’t enjoy a sweater/sweatshirt with an insanely high price tag on it. Even if it is neutral colors that I love and feels like you wrapped yourself in a cotton ball from heaven when you put it on. I think that might make me less shallow, no?
**Crue, Major and I had to go to the pediatrician (again for the millionth time in the last 3 weeks) to pick up some paperwork. This funny conversation happened:

Lady at the front desk- “Oh, how old is your baby?”

Me- “3 weeks.”

Lady at the front desk- “Oh my goodness, you don’t even look like you’ve had a baby.” (even though I do look very post partum underneath it all)

Crue- “well (he raised his eyebrows, lowered his chin, and raised his index finger) my daddy wooks wike he has a baby in his tummy. He does.(nodding)”

**To end the week, Ryan and I got into a little tiff. Advice: don’t get into little tiffs with a woman who just had a baby and isn’t getting much sleep. You never come out feeling good about yourself. I apologized but the universe spanked my butt anyway in the form of a black eye. I wasn’t given the black eye by Ryan (he’s never even raised his voice at me) (he can’t say the same thing about me) (To clarify: I’ve never given him a black eye) (and he holds his own, but in quiet tones) but instead by a can of pineapple that fell out of the pantry and hit me in the eye. It hurt. It still hurts and reminds me to be a nicer wife. Thank you, universe and Del Monte. I got your message loud and clear.

**I’m home from church again today. “Protecting my baby from RSV.” Ryan thinks it might be time to call in the missionaries. I’ve never missed this many weeks of church. I am looking forward to going back but a quiet house all to myself once a week hasn’t been too bad. (In fact, it has been heaven. on. earth.)

That’s it in a nutshell. I'm off to write a post that has been brewing this week because I've been asked to be a guest poster (a fun first)... stay tuned. Over and out.

2011-02-24T21:17:00.000-08:00

Crue was born into the wrong family. Or should I say colony? The child is supposed to be residing in a colony where its residents are all void of clothing and inhibition in regards to nakey-ness. The moment we walk in the door from anywhere there is a trail of clothes and at the end of the trail is the cutest little bare bum you’ll ever see. Until you see it all. the. time. Which, at that point isn’t quite as cute as you once thought. Ryan, being tired of the constant “Crue, get your clothes on” Or “Crue I just put underwear on you 5 minutes ago! Go get them back on please” had this conversation with him the other day.

Ryan: Crue, please go get some clothes on. Again.

Crue: It’s fine dad.

Ryan: No buddy, it isn’t. If you keep being naked all the time, your privates are going to fall off. (desperate times call for unhealthy/disturbing threats around here. We call it ‘Parenting With Fear and Lack of Logic’)

Crue: Well, I would dist go get a-nudda (another) one.

Ryan: Where do you think you can just get another penis?

Crue: At the sto-uh (store). I would go in and say ‘excuse me, manag-uh (manager), do you seww (sell) penises he-uh (here)? And he would say ‘yes, we do suh (sir).’

Ryan: They don’t sell penises at the store, buddy.

Crue: Weww (well), hmmm… dat’s (that’s) okay. (shrug of the shoulders) I could dist (just) use duct tape.

And naked he remained. We need to up our game. Do you know of any ‘Parenting with Fear and Lack of Logic’ classes in our area? If not, don’t be surprised when you come to the door and are greeted by a smiling 3 year old proudly wearing his birthday suit.

***for the record, we aren’t too terribly concerned about his free spirit. All of our kids avoided (loathed) wearing clothes until they were about 4ish too… this too shall pass. And when it does, we’ll miss his cute little behind, but appreciate his new found sense of modesty.

But first the rest of the story...

2011-02-15T14:35:00.000-08:00

written Sunday 2/12/11

I am not going to begin at the beginning. I am going to skip to some learning experiences (aka trials) that have been beautiful this week.

Before part 2 of this story though, you must know that I have a baby story to tell you soon. You’ll like it because, since I’m being honest, it’s about a really cute baby. And he happens to be mine. He comes with a fun birth story that will be etched in my memory forever. But first, the rest of the story.

We got home from the hospital on Monday night after a roller coaster day. They were having a hard time letting us go home because the pediatrician had some concerns with Major. We were all settling in with a new baby, getting used to the new ebbs and flows of life as we know it. Resting some, running some (figuratively, of course), and mostly just enjoying the magic of a new baby in our home. We are all smitten.

Crue has had an adjustment period that has been a little bit different than I anticipated. He was having a hard time sleeping. He doesn’t want to miss any fun and his cozy spot in the bed between mommy and daddy that he sneaks into every night has been taken over by a baby. The result of such a take over is Crue awake all night asking questions, chatting, crying, getting in trouble, and NOT SLEEPING. When I wasn’t awake with the baby, I was awake with Crue. It was a tough first night home for Ryan and I and Crue. The second night was a little better but Crue had nightmares all night long. Third night, more of the same. Clearly, he needs a little extra love right now.

By Wednesday night, the exhaustion was starting to set in. I needed sleep. We all needed sleep. It (the sleep) didn’t happen Wednesday night so when the phone rang on Thursday morning at 5:00 just after I had just entered a deep state of dream, I was instantly consumed with a heavy fatigue and alarm. It’s like trying to run when you’re having a nightmare. I answered the phone and was surprised to hear the voice of the pediatrician. She had gotten a call from the hospital lab and in the night some bacteria cultures had started to grow in Major’s blood tests. It was urgent that I get him to the N.I.C.U. as soon as possible where he would be staying for at least the next 48 hours receiving I.V. antibiotics. I was trying to be calm but the tears were fresh and hot on my face as I hurried to shower and get out the door. Before we left, we called a friend to come over to help ryan give Major a blessing, repacked a bag for Major and I and headed out the door to go back to the last place we wanted to be. Usually when there is crisis, Ryan and I are together. But we decided that the best thing for the kids and family this time was for him to be home with them in the morning to get them off to school and keep their routine as much as possible. We didn’t know what kind of tumult the rhythm of our home would experience in the coming days and possibly weeks, so we wanted normalcy and peace for them. Due the fear of what was to come for my baby, our family, and the exhaustion and frustration with the situation, I, almost single-handedly, threw that peace out the window the moment that Crayton and I had a blowout over Jelly Bellies. We yelled at each other as I was walking out the door. I felt terrible and frustrated and the tears came. They would continue to come and go on the way to the hospital but by the time I pulled in the parking lot, my shoulders were squared and I was determined to pull it together.

I parked, composed myself, talked with my Heavenly Father for the 50th time that day and tried to figure out how I was going to carry all of our stuff and the baby and not damage my post-partum wounds and body that was trying so hard to heal itself back together but was still very fragile and sore. By the time I got to the hospital doors carrying our heavy bag in one arm and my sleeping, bundled baby in the other, my body ached, my wounds were begging me to lighten the load, but mostly my heart was breaking for Major and the pain that would be inflicted on his new little tiny self, inside, with all of the medication and possible dangerous illness, and out, with all of the poking and prodding. It was then that I dropped our bags, pulled him to my face and wept outside of the hospital doors.

Once in the N.I.C.U., the fear left. The concerns left. The peace came. And it stayed. And along with it lessons that I hope to never forget.

First lesson, there is power in prayer. I have heard so many times the phrase, ‘power of prayer’ and I guess became desensitized to it’s meaning. Prayer to many, me included sometimes, is, at times, perceived as just our thoughts and words being expressed in heart or voice and carried away on a breeze where our innermost concerns, thoughts, and hopes might make it to Higher, Holier Spheres or might crumble like confetti and exist only for fragile moments before it disintegrates into vast nothingness never to be heard by the intended Receiver. I know that isn’t the case. I have had many experiences wherein I have felt prayer. I can’t completely explain it: how it happens or how it feels. But it happens and I have felt it, experienced it and it is not an airy conceptualized thing. It is powerful and very real.

During this time in the hospital, I felt its power when Major was poked and prodded and never even cried. Because of prayers. I felt its power when, as soon as I got to the hospital, in spite of being stressed, fatigued, and re-traumatizing my wounds, my bleeding stopped and my wounds stopped hurting almost completely. If you know my normal post-partum experience, you would know that this was far from my pattern of healing. Very, very far. And it is because of prayers. I felt its power when my fears of facing a neonatologist, all alone, with my questions and concerns and fearing not being heard or respected as his mother were instantly dispelled when Dr. H. walked into Major’s room and listened to me and answered questions and treated me like I know my baby. Major has only been here for days, yet, I know him. I know I know him and Dr. H. knew that too. Because of the power of prayer. I could go on and on about how powerfully I felt not only my prayers answered very specifically, but I felt others praying for us as well and I truly felt their prayers being answered on our behalf in a very real, powerful way. It is humbling and it is real. But more than that it is a gift. A gift from a very loving Father in Heaven. We are not alone in our sojourn on this earth. He is there and listening. There are no prayers carried away on a wind. There is a line from our hearts directly to our Father’s. There is no loss of our prayers meanings by the time they reach Him. He knows. He answers. He is real and very, very powerful. Through prayer, He assures us of that power and that we are safe with Him. We are going to experience loss, and grief and hardships, often beyond what we feel capable of enduring. Even and especially in the midst of trials and hard times He powerfully sends down tender mercies for us to choose to receive or not, but they are always there. For that Power I am eternally grateful. When I sat down to tap this out, I felt compelled to write many lessons that I learned, but now that I have written about prayer and its power, I feel compelled to stop. Maybe, for now, that is the lesson that I need to focus on most. There were many other things I learned and hope to be compelled to write about down the road. Much good came from our stay in the N.I.C.U.. I was in an isolated room with my baby for 2 days. What a gift. I missed my kids at home, felt horrible for needing so much help from friends and family, and was anxious to move forward with Major in our family. But that time…oh, it was precious. He and I snuggled non-stop. I didn’t miss a grunt or sound or cute little expression. Not one. I experienced them all. We listened to beautiful music and Major is proving to be an appreciator of fine vocals and guitar (i.e. John Denver). He loved the CD that his Papa made for his entry into this world. We both lay on the bed and listened and soaked in the beautifully chosen melodies. They all had meaning.

Everything turned out to be just fine. The test that caused such alarm was determined to be a contaminated test. Major’s blood is perfect. He is healthy. We are home now and resting. The calm before the storm. Ryan goes back to work full swing tomorrow, we have Valentine’s Day, and class parties and cooking and cleaning and laundry and dinner and homework and activity after activity and so it goes. Life begins again without the barrier of newness surrounding my baby and me. But we got more bonding time than normal and it was so blessed.

And everything was and is just as it should be.

worth the wait

2011-02-15T14:28:00.000-08:00

I can’t believe I’ve let it go this long…I feel like we have been hidden away by a shroud of sacred newness. I have treasured every second of it and now real life is slowly ripping down the shroud. It’s hard and I wish that being hidden away so that I can quietly breathe him could last a little bit longer. But alas, real life comes knocking and won’t go away until I answer. With that comes setting him down sometimes, grocery shopping, the homework witching hour, cleaning toilets and on and on and on.

I’ve rambled too long. Without further ado…He’s here. And perfect. He came quickly on February 5, 2011. He weighed 9lbs. He has a perfect round little head that feels like velvet. He hardly ever cries but when he does it’s pretty cute. He has hairy little tiny shoulders. He is part angel. He goes cross-eyed a lot. He nurses like a champ. To be in his presence is the very definition/experience of true peace. He gets the hiccups in the evenings just like he did in my belly. I just want to hold him and stare at him all day, every day. He looks a lot like Crue did when he was a baby. He has grandpa philip’s mouth. His name is Major W. Kidd. I love his name. When he moves, he does so very slowly. His newness is so fleeting; I can’t get enough of it. He has giant hands. And giant feet. And a cute little wrinkled bum. His eyes are already pretty blue. I wish he could stay my brand new baby forever. He is the most snugly little baby you’ll ever hold. He just melts. His brothers and sisters all adore him. He loves to be swaddled. He's so very sleepy. He’s pooped on my hand twice. And peed on my bed once. Even that was cute. I have so much to be thankful for. Good friends. Good family. Healthy baby. I’m so happy to be his mama that I am at a loss for words. Really happy.

then (11.23.10) and now (1.12.11)

2011-01-12T10:54:00.000-08:00

(Originally written on 11.23/10. It wouldn’t post.)

I don’t love change but I hate blogging on blogger. therefore, I am trying windows live writer. I don’t know what I am doing or how this works. I also got a new cell phone but am still using my old one because I hate change. My old one is broken. I hate change that much. anyone know any tips/tricks I should know in using this new (to me) live writer??

we just got back from a quick trip to utah. it may have been a really long drive home. the children may have been needier than ever before. we may have been really tired when we got home. my car looks like someone dumped an entire bag of chex muddy buddies on the floor and stomped on it. probably because someone (or 4 someone's) did. I also can’t use my side mirrors because they are covered in utah snow residue. utah snow residue is dir-tay.

my christmas decorations are out today. the kids are home from school starting in 20 minutes clear until monday. I am going to make them hot chocolate when they get home and maybe start hanging decorations together. I hope that makes them excited. ryan is working late and it’s partly to mostly cloudy and only 60 degrees or so out today. brrr… cozy! I think that is a perfect scenario for decoration hanging.

piper got second place in the 4th grade science fair. I won’t bore you with the details but it should suffice to say that mc d’s, in ‘n out, and wendy’s hamburgers should, at some point, decompose. but they don’t. flies should be attracted to them. but they aren’t.

motherhood is flying by way too fast. i feel like there are too many un-savored moments and that thought gives me a stomach ache. although science fair projects are not those moments. like ryan said, ‘science fair projects are why we are only having five kids!’ did that make anyone else laugh? I did. I love these babies.

Piper might be growing up into a young lady and changing and refining every day but I find comfort in the fact that her dimples will be around until they turn into wrinkles. which will be a very long time and I do love those dimples.

Today 1/12/11

That day (11.23.10), I didn’t hang any decorations or make hot chocolate. I never could get live writer to work and i recently took my new cell phone back because my old one started kind of working. it's broken again. Today is a lazy day. It shouldn’t be because I have a lot of stuff to do. My house has fallen apart. There is a mess at every turn. It stresses me out when it gets like this. ryan is out of town and I am really tired and pelvic-ly (totally a word) challenged. One who is pelvic-ly challenged experiences a great amount of pain in one’s entire pelvis whenever one walks, sits or does anything but lay on one’s side and watch television or read books while eating ice. I think I might also be iron deficient because of said ice addiction. if anyone in the reaches of my blog-voice are going to be stopping by Bajio’s today, please bring me 10 giant cups of ice. I will pay you a million dollars. They have the best ice in the entire state of Arizona and maybe the entire universe. I don’t really have a million dollars but I will pay you for gas, time, pain and suffering…

Back in November we barely survived Piper’s science fair project and now it is Crayton’s turn to (kill us and make us wonder why we send our children to school because we hate this kind of homework more than anything else, besides pink eye and vomit) learn the scientific process, have a life changing experience and benefit in beautiful ways from this ever-so-time-consuming assignment that will bring him memories and joy forever and always from this day forward. Assuming today is the day he swabs the inside of his cheek and lets the bacteria we will be studying do it’s thing. 5th grade science fair 2011, here we come. The week our baby is due. blech.

We all got to see Cinco’s little face yesterday. His hand was blocking his eyes and he is so squished that we could only see his nose and mouth and chin. But I’ll tell you what, when our eyes all adjusted to the black and white fuzz on the screen and his baby face appeared we all melted and declared him the cutest baby ever. Dr’s opinion is that this babe even has a head full of hair. They said the same thing about our baldest baby, Crue, so we’ll see about that…

I went grocery/Costco shopping yesterday so my options of lunch fare just got a lot more exciting than the chips, trail mix and chocolate I have been eating. I’m off to eat a brown rice cake with almond butter and agave. also some fresh cherries and maybe a cup of ice and a cup of tea. then I will hopefully take a nap with crue. and hopefully it will be uninterrupted by the man who is trying desperately to serve ryan with another $200 traffic violation ticket. this man is a giant who beats on our door for 10 minutes at a time with the force of the incredible hulk. then when no one answers, he sulks out to his honda accord and leaves until the next day or 9:30 that same night. Who in their right mind would open the door to a door-banging gigantic stranger? Not me. Not my children. They should really teach these people how to not be scary. I think they would be more successful at sucking people dry for driving 9 miles over the speed limit. Just saying. over and out.

Things i just realized because of a bath, tea and hurdles

2011-01-02T20:41:00.001-08:00

* image

I just drank a cup of third trimester tea and it was delicious. I drank it in the tub while I read a book of essays about motherhood. It made me feel uplifted, inadequate, inspired, recommitted, tired and wondering what beautiful, inspiring things I could someday write about in a book of essays on motherhood. First I need to learn how to write properly, mother properly and care more about learning how to write and mother properly than I do about taking a hot bath, reading a good book and drinking good tea. I’ve got a ways to go.

We took Christmas down today. I wasn’t ready. This year, I wonder if I would have ever felt ready. I love the glow of Christmas lights in my house, little village houses on fake snow, the smells (this year white fir essential oil was my favorite fragrance), the tree lighting up and magically warming the whole downstairs, the banister dolled up in lights and evergreens, and the nativities around the house reminding us about His ever so sacred birth. I always consider leaving my favorite nativity up all year long and decide against it because it might take away from its special-ness.

Maybe I wasn’t ready to take Christmas down today because Christmas represented the hurdle I needed to jump before I started preparing to jump the get-ready-for-baby hurdle. Cleaning up Christmas means I’ve just jumped the last hurdle of the race. When I was in high school I ran track. I did hurdles and the longer the race was, and the more hurdles I jumped, the taller the last few hurdles looked and felt. Sometimes I fell. Maybe I fell once in front of the pole vault area where the pole vault team were filming themselves and maybe the whole pole vault team watched a video of my fall over and over and over the next day until they all laughed themselves hysterical. Even the coach. Maybe. But that’s neither here nor there. The hurdles I am about jump include, but are not limited to; cleaning like crazy, organizing, maintaining normalcy and consistency with the other kids and homework and projects and activities, dr. appointments way too often from here on out (which means a lot of driving, which means a lot of wasting time), and of course, preparing mentally for naturally birthing what might be my last baby. I so want it to be perfect for he and I.

Usually when I am pregnant I feel, at this stage, like I’d like to start doing anything I can to speed the process of getting the child out of me and here so that I can finally be done being pregnant and get to the good stuff of having my baby to love. I don’t feel that yet and I wonder if I will. It gives me cause for concern that I don’t feel that yet. Maybe not concern but it definitely raises some questions in my mind. Am I excited? Am I sad? Am I connected enough with my baby? Am I selfish? Am I ready? I haven't really stopped to think about the answers...

Am I excited? Yes, I am excited. It’s not in the traditional sense of the word. I don’t feel giddy. I know that it’s a lot of work and probably not very much sleep that I have ahead of me. But am I excited? Oh my goodness, I can’t wait to hold my baby and see his eyes and decide who he looks like and hear his sounds and smell his soft skin, and touch his newness with my own fingertips. I can’t wait to watch him take in the world. It almost makes me cry just thinking about how much I am looking forward to meeting his body. I’ve met his spirit. I love him and yes, I am excited.

Am I sad? Maybe a little bit. I think he’s our last baby. Nothing is set in stone and I certainly won’t make that decision without making it a matter of specific prayer and fasting. But in my mind he’s my last pregnancy. My last new baby. My last one to swaddle and nurse. My last one to watch stare at his daddy’s face as they become acquainted. That is always beautiful to me. Ryan is a beautiful dad and I love to watch him with our babies. He’s a tender soul and such a good, gentle, loving dad. Thinking about him meeting our baby almost makes me cry. (Who am I kidding? Both times I said it almost makes me cry, I’ve cried.)

Am I connected enough with my baby? This baby has been trying to penetrate our hearts for a long time. I know he is ready to come to us. I, several times, felt him come to me when our home was in the middle of chaos. Kids crying, and fighting, dinner burning on the stove, the phone ringing, Ryan working late, and me feeling totally inadequate to handle it all. It was almost always during the chaos that he would come. He came then, during the crazies, and I heard him loud and clear above the chaos say ‘I know what I am coming to. It’s okay. Just let me come.’ There were times where his Voice stopped me in my tracks and the chaos around me seemed to freeze. A few times, I even laughed out loud and said “Now? You’re asking me now?” Then late at night, I would tell Ryan that it happened again and sometimes I would cry because I wished I had more faith than fear and could just let him come. Ever since I found out he was coming I have felt peace. I think it is his gift to me. I know he’s still okay with, and even looking forward to coming to us. Am I connected enough with my baby? Not always, but I know he understands why and he understands me and I know he knows that I will be connected the very Moment he arrives.

Am I selfish? Um, the short answer is yes. The long answer is yes, very much so. I like to sleep in the middle of the night. I like to have my own time while the kids are at school to catch up on life and home and thoughts. I like grocery shopping alone. I like having my breasts be my own. I’m sad that I can’t carpool anymore because I am out of seats in my van. That means I need to be at the school every single morning AND every single afternoon. I like carpooling. I really want to go on a trip before he comes. Once he comes, I am his survival for at least a year. He’s my permanent sidekick. No kid-less overnight trips. I like kid-less trips. They’re really fun. And did I mention I like to sleep at night? I like to go to church and participate in listening and learning. Babyhood usually puts a kibosh on that for about 19 months. So, am I selfish? Yep. Will the selfish thoughts and tendencies go away? They usually do the moment my breasts stop being my own and I submit to the beauty that is having a permanent sidekick. I know the trips will resume soon enough, carpool will work itself out, I’ll have forever to grocery shop alone and sleep is overrated. I’ll miss my baby at church when he goes to his class and I’ll wonder how I could have ever been so selfish because I love him so much and wish he could always stay my baby. It's been that way with every single one.

Am I ready? In the physical sense, no. I need to sort clothes, gather baby gear, put a crib together, get my House in order, and prepare for childbirth. It feels a lot like taking down Christmas this year. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel ready this time. I like basking in the glow of what’s to come. I like the anticipation of wondering when he and my body will come together and make me know it’s time to meet my baby. I like how things are now. Peaceful. Paced. Focused. Purposeful. Hopeful. Am I ready? In some ways, not at all. In the ways that matter, very much so.

I am grateful still for continued health and strength. I’ve had the energy I need to carry on being the mom I need to be. I have been healthy enough to think about Christmas and try to do little things to make it a special season for my kids. I came up short, of course, it’s the nature of the job, but I felt good enough to try really hard and in lots of ways my efforts paid off. For that I am so grateful. Christmas this year was good. Really good. Life, in spite of challenges and slip-ups, hurts and confusions, trials and errors, is really beautiful right now. I couldn’t be more grateful. Honestly, when i got in the tub earlier, I was frustrated with Ryan because he doesn't like animals and we just got one and I wish he could be nicer about our newest family member (another post, another day), frustrated with one of my children, in need of a little escape (remember i'm a little selfish), and generally just feeling like a bit of a grump. I'm glad that I got this escape. I guess that tea, hot water and this time to reflect were just what I needed to re-boost. Ryan just made his last batch of his homemade chex mix until next Christmas. It’s one of his specialties and it smells delicious. I am going to go downstairs and get me some of that special mix, tell him i love him, and maybe get another cup of tea. It’s turned out to be a good night.

reminders.

2010-12-20T21:22:00.000-08:00

I’ve had lots of reminders of various things these days. Here they are in no particular order…

I have a bruise on my forehead. Every time I wash my face it hurts and reminds me that I cleaned my he_ _ room out the other day because while I was cleaning out that room I bumped my head on something hard. Now when I wash my face I feel kind of proud of myself for accomplishing such a task as that. When I think about the he_ _ room getting cleaned out, I think about the toy room that Ryan and I totally de-junked, cleaned and organized because it is the room right beside the he_ _ room. I like washing my face when I have a bruise to remind me that productivity feels really good.

Right now someone in my neighborhood is barbequing, which is strange because it’s almost 10:00 at night. But it is reminding me that I am hungry. Which reminds me that my feet hurt too badly to go downstairs and do anything about it.

I cleaned, organized, painted, and decorated my laundry room. In the past, I have hated doing laundry but now not so much. I remember a lady I know once talking about how much she loved doing laundry because it felt so good to see her kids in clean clothes because it reminded her how much she loved them. I thought she was crazy. But I hung a quote about love in my laundry room and now when I do my laundry I am reminded that doing laundry and doing it well is an act of love for my family. It feels a lot better doing it these days. Except mating socks. I still hate that a lot. Last week I told the kids that they had a money-making opportunity while they were home from school. I told them that they could mate the socks and clean out the junk drawer in the kitchen. Then I said, just to clarify their options, “okay guys, junk drawer or mating for money…” They thought that was pretty funny because they know what mating is. Now they know what prostitution is too.

I’ve had some excruciating pregnancy related pain this week. It hasn’t been very fun and it is reminded me that I am going to have to/get to birth this child sooner than later. I need to mentally gear up for this opportunity because it hurts to have a baby. I need to start some meditating and preparing or my and my baby’s experience won’t be as positive as it could be otherwise.

Looking at Lennon’s flushed little face reminds me that she still isn’t quite over the flu that has invaded her little body. She got it on Thursday and had to miss the class Christmas party at school and her student of the month assembly. Then on Saturday she missed the ward party and seeing Santa. And on Sunday she missed singing in sacrament meeting. She is feeling a little put upon. I don’t blame her. Hopefully it stops with her and Crayton and Piper can avoid being sick on Christmas. Crue got the stomach flu on Friday night and was fine by Saturday afternoon. Phew.

The screen saver on my computer is just random changing pictures that we have on the computer. It reminds me how fast time goes and how much I love my family. Which reminds me of some thoughts I have been having on opposition. Which are too in depth to share tonight because my feet aren’t throbbing anymore which reminds me that I’m still hungry. Downstairs I go to eat. Better awake than in my sleep. It’s less messy.

checking in and i wish i could blog some other way besides blogger...

2010-12-14T12:53:00.001-08:00

I just uploaded a bunch of pictures from my camera. It's been a really long time since I've blogged. It's been a beauty-full holiday season. And that includes Halloween,Thanksgiving,and the Christmas season thus far. A lot has happened. We've done a lot of traveling and family activities. I'd love to tell you more but Crue baby (he doesn't like it when I call him that, as he prefers Crue-Bob) is down for a little snooze and I have a he*@-room to clean out while he rests. When that room gets cleaned (AGAIN!) the Christmas wrapping/storing/sewing (just kidding about the sewing) can all begin.

For the record, I wrote a post a long time ago and could never get live-writer to work for me… so let's just say that it was the best, most inspiring, hilarious (and not to mention full of award-winning photography) post I've ever written. I often use parentheses when I am at a punctuational/grammatical loss. I'm sure you've noticed that by now…

I will leave you with a picture or two of my ever-expanding self. I 'm getting large and in charge and all the bones in my pelvis are feeling it. It's times like this that I wish I had really tall parents so that I was genetically more prepared to grow big babies. This might be the pregnancy that snaps my pelvis right into little pieces and leaves me in traction for the first 8 weeks of my baby's life. Just kidding, that's a horrible thought. And I still have felt so, so good this whole pregnancy. To say I have been really blessed physically, emotionally, mentally etc…wouldn't suffice. But since there are no other words, I have been so blessed. I hope to be back here sooner than later. Abby is inspiring me to snag a little snippet of each day, as they are lovely days I am letting go by without mention…

31 Weeks

Natalie Kidd With Thoughts On:

2010-11-04T20:11:00.000-07:00

Self realization:
Thursday is my ugliest day of the week. I mean the day where i look worse than any other day of the week. I only noticed because i always run into people on thursdays and look like i am haggard and worn. which is strange because it is the day where i get up and shower and get dressed because i know that i need to be on my a-game because it is my most demanding day of the week. But my reflection when I pass by a mirror on Thursdays is always shocking. In a not good way.

Life Lessons:
Crue said today while we were eating lunch (think 3 year old from Brooklyn/Boston while reading) "Mama, sometimes peep-oh (people) fight. all dey need to do is say 'i'm so-wee. ' o-uh (or), 'i won't do it again.' o-uh, 'I didn't mean to. o-wuh (are) you okay?' 'o-uh 'wi-oo (will) you fu-give (forgive) me?' and den (then) it will be all okay and ev-wee (every) one wi-oo (will) be happy."
Seems so simplified but honestly, it usually conflict resolution would be so easy if we were all so humble to say 'i'm sorry', i won't do it again' and 'will you forgive me?'

On Parenting:
It can be hard to parent kids who are, say, 10. They need discipline. You need to make them feel the effects but then you hate that they feel the effects. You wonder if your techniques are too harsh, too lenient, to reactive, not severe enough, because some of the behaviors are far from changing. You don't want to be critical of everything or anything but it's so easy to be critical. And sometimes necessary. Unless it isn't, then you are just screwing everything up. They are testing you and themselves. They are deciding what they value and it usually isn't what you say. In fact, your opinion should be left out of much of your conversations with them because the opposite of your opinion will then be what they value. I miss my big kids being 2-5. It was a different challenge but I had so much more mother's intuition during those ages. Just another phase of growing for all of us. but it's hard. and i love this 10 year old so much it hurts. I just want this 10 year old to be happy and balanced and productive. Is that asking too much?

On Pregnancy physically:
As Crue would say, 'Oh my gosh! Yo-uh (your) tummy is getting fatt-uh and fatt-uh and fatt-uh!" He's right. It's supposed to be that way but sometimes i feel like such a freak. The constant analyzing of my changing body makes me self conscious. "You're so big!" "You're so little!" "You carry so high!" "You must be due any minute!" "You are going to pop!" I feel like if i could just hunker down in my house and hide and paint and clean and eat miniature candy bars all day long i would be the happiest pregnant woman on earth. But alas, i venture out of this haven at least once a week to subject myself to the observations of others. I have big babies, people. I'm not due until Feb. It's (my body) not going to get any less huge. In fact, i am going to get huger by the day from this point forward. It's all part of my way. My big, pregnant way. As for Mr. Cinco, he is a delight. He wiggles and squirms gently. He wiggles the most in the morning and night time. He likes it when the kids talk to him. He likes sugar. I'm going to have to start weening him off of that soon...

On pregnancy emotionally:
I still feel so peaceful. The realities of pregnancy, holidays, life with 5 kids and our already crazy schedules is starting to sink in. But I still just feel peace about this little one coming to join us. The only time I haven't felt peaceful from the moment i found out i was pregnant was when I was at my grandma's funeral, alone, with all of the kids, trying to be aware of their grief, physical needs, emotional needs, and no husband. It was a little scary, overwhelming because of the mirror it was to my life sometimes (a lot of times) and really exhausting. It got even scarier when we went to Chuck-a-Rama after the funeral. Try keeping yourself sane and peaceful at a giant buffet. It isn't humanly possible. I promise. I don't care who you are. I distinctly remember standing in the middle of the buffet, in a crowd, with 2 missing children and 2 more eating jell-o and soft serve ice cream while washing it down with their 'suicide soda' and thinking "what in the world (or insert swear word) am i doing having another child?" I have to say, though, one moment of 'what am i doing?' in 6+ months isn't too bad. And it happened in a buffet. Nuff said. I can't wait to meet my baby. I hope to not go to Chuck-a-Rama ever again.

On emotional eating:
I have had a lot feelings lately. I have, unfortunately, been eating them. The other day i had a carrot feeling, but the rest have pretty much been snickers feelings, milky way feelings, and twix feelings. Oh, i had a plum feeling too, and a steamed broccoli feeling. But the rest of them have been chocolate. Lots of feelings, lots of eating chocolate. Lots of reasons to feel like i'd rather not have people comment on my growing body. Halloween is of the devil. The devil of weight gain and emotional eating/ sugar addiction.

On bed time:
It's getting earlier and earlier these days. For me, not the kids. And here it is almost 10:00 and i am deliriously sleepy. I hope i don't read this tomorrow and regret the things i have laid out on this blogging table for the world to see. This post might be deleted tomorrow.

P.S. one more item:
Technology. Me and technology seem to be in discord with one another lately. My email has been dumb and not working. If you have sent me an email and i didn't reply in the past months it's because i couldn't. Then my whole computer started being as dumb as my email so we just got it back from the shop (a saintly friend with mad skills) and am figuring out how to re-use everything. The computer and email are both working beautifully now. Yay!! But yesterday, my cell phone broke. Please don't text me. I can't read my messages, just hear when they come in. I can barely dial. And sometimes i can receive phone calls. I should do a post on my love for At&t. I can't wait for verizon to come out with their I-phone. It will be such a happy day for me and the people whose calls i continue to drop.

Good night. I'm out.

Let's just see where this goes...

2010-10-17T22:37:00.000-07:00

I have wanted to write about so many things lately.

I swore when I found out that I was pregnant this time I would document everything. From the feelings I felt when I discovered the news, to the changes in my body, the symptoms and comparisons to other pregnancies. This will probably be my last one so I wanted to remember it all. I haven’t done any of that. I remember the feelings I felt when I found out. I know my symptoms. I can compare the experience I am having now with the ones in the past. Why is it so hard to write it down??? I was even going to do a month by month photo of my growing belly, okay let’s be honest, my growing body. I am not one of those women who get a little ball in the front and glow like I just swallowed something beautifully radioactive. I get girthy. Like a linebacker who just swallowed a water barrel. Whatever. It’s so fleeting, temporary and amazing that I am okay with it. For some reason, I just haven’t taken a single picture of this "metamorphosis" (mom to linebacker).

In other news, I took the kids to Tonto Natural Bridge today. It’s fall break this week. I feel like a pretty good mom tonight. This morning, not so much because I was twitching with agitation, but tonight I can pat myself on the back. We hiked a long, treacherous terrain (for 9 and 10 year olds) down to the underbelly of the bridge and then back up a different trail (which was long and treacherous terrain for a 9 and 10 year olds and 6 month pregnant women). The kids did great, as did I. (pat, pat, pat). I packed a picnic, and a craft, drove 2 ½ hours, and was patient the entire time. I was thinking a couple of weeks ago that I should start a fake journal of our day-to-day activities. I have realized that the kids don’t have memories of much. Even Crayton who is 10 doesn’t remember as much as I would imagine him to. I first felt sad about this realization, but then I wondered if it would be cool to use it to my advantage. Making lemonade out of lemons, if you will. I would write every day in the journal with entries similar to this, sprinkled with tales of amazing trips to foreign lands and disneyland:

Dear diary,

Today was amazing. The kids got up and did their chores while I made them a hot breakfast of eggs, flax seed and bran muffins, and fresh smoothies. I love picking berries from the garden and gathering eggs from our own flourishing back yard every morning after my run and turning them into something delicious and nutritious for my growing brood. While they ate, we read scriptures and had a beautiful morning devotional wherein I changed their lives with my motivating lesson and scriptural application.

When the kids got home from school, I sat down with them while they ate their after-school snack of grapes and homemade cookies (I’m so balanced these days). We talked and laughed about their day at school and then hopped on our bikes to go for an energizing ride around the neighborhood. They love riding bikes after school! When we got home I invited a few of their friends over for crafting homemade fall treats. Carmel apples and pumpkin bread. Halloween is coming up after all and what would the first tastes of fall be without crafting with good friends and home baked goods? The kids had an absolute ball and hated to see the day end. I did too. Most nights I just wish their bedtime would never come. Tomorrow should be fun though! I have planned a trip to the zoo and science center. We just can’t get enough use out of our season passes! Well, I had better get to bed. Tomorrow is another big day of fun, fun, fun.

I think the line between reality and illusion would get really fuzzy if they [the kids] read these journal entries every so often. They'd all grow up thinking that they led amazing lives and had an ideal childhood. But is it illusion if your intentions match your illusions? Now that’s deep…

A Lesson In Hydration

2010-10-01T12:24:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago I had a slew of Dr. appointments and lab visits in one day. I had Crue with me and, of course, at every single office they had water coolers. He lives for water coolers so he was in heaven. I always wonder if the front office staff regrets putting water dispensers in reach of small children, because what little kid doesn’t see one of those and automatically become parched and then remain parched the entire time they are in the waiting room?

After drinking, and drinking and drinking, naturally, he started to need to pee and pee and pee. At one of the final office visits of the day I took him into the bathroom to go potty [AGAIN].

Me: Wow, buddy look at that pee! It is the perfect pee. It’s so clear that you can’t even see it! When pee pee is the same color as water and that means your body has plenty of water. That is so healthy for your body, Buddy! Awesome!

Crue: (shoulders back in pride, eyebrows lifted, nodding) Yep mom, dat’s one of da ‘mazing sings my pwivates can do. (translation: Yep, mom. That’s one of the amazing things my privates can do!)

Just wait, buddy. Just wait.

Blog Bandit Week 2: Soundtrack Of My Life.

2010-09-29T20:30:00.000-07:00

Christy asked me to let everyone know that she will be posting in the coming hours, days or weeks. She is a little consumed by some rather rigorous demands right now and will get her post up as soon as she can. I know that she didn't seem too excited about the topic that I gave her to write about last week...but she really is. She loves Monopoly.

Last week during Piper’s soccer practice I sat and wrote about the soundtrack of my life for quite awhile (one hour to be exact). It was a good little trip down memory lane. I wrote about an old college boyfriend who was a total wipe. I wrote about the songs that have told parts of my story; past, present and future. But it was boring. It doesn’t reflect at all how I am feeling today. I think I just implied that I am feeling un-boring today. That was misleading. I am still boring, just not in the mood to subject you to the boring-ness that was that post, just my boring-ness today, not last Wednesdays boring-ness. I’ll keep this short and sweet.

Firstly, I must say that when I watch Little People Big World I always wish that my life was put to that music. I love the background music on that show. That would be a nice soundtrack to life. Wouldn't it?

An even more appropriate sound track to my life would be the music that they always play when they show a scene in a movie, commercial, or television show in hyper fast motion. You know, that really fast piano music. I don’t know many moms who don’t feel like that would be the soundtrack to their life.

I wish that there were some steady, upbeat, but not over the top, and never-ending soundtrack that reflected me and how I am in my life. But just like me telling you that I am not boring, it would be misleading. I am slightly moody, not always as upbeat as I would like to be, and run out of energy at totally inconvenient times. Is there a song for that? {Emily?}

The song that comes to mind for today {lately} that would be a semi-appropriate reflection of now for me is by an artist whom I don’t care much for at all, Katy Perry. It’s the one that goes:

'Cause you're hot then you're cold

You're yes then you're no

You're in then you're out

You're up then you're down

You're wrong when it's right

It's black and it's white

We fight, we break up

We kiss, we make up…

That’s kind of more where I am right now. With my thoughts, my motivation, my productivity, my marriage, my parenting, my level of irritability, my health. It’s awesome. I think on the surface I might seem a little bit more like a smooth lake than I feel. This week anyway. Now I am making it seem like I am boring and crazy. Great {lakes}! Is there a song for that??

Last week I asked Ryan the question; what would be a song that reflects where you are right now? He came up with one that touched his heart once about six years ago. I asked him if there was one that was more current. He’s not easily moved by music, or um…anything. Affected {effected?} sometimes, but not moved. Every once in a while he surprises me though. I checked my email the other day to find this.

Nat,

I heard the song that fits the question you asked me last week. Here it is by John Michael Montgomery: Probably go to Itunes to get the tune and listen to it or I can try and sing it to you, you pick….

I get up and battle the day

Things don't always go my way

It might rain but that's okay

I get to come home to you

Sometimes life may get me down

And I get tired of getting kicked around

I feel lost in this maddening crowd

But I get to come home to you

You are my best friend

And you are where my heart is

And I know at the day's end

I get to come home to you

Hanging out in our old sweatshirts

You let me complain about a hard day's work

I don't know what I did to deserve

To get to come home to you

You are my best friend

And you are where my heart is

And I know at the day's end

I get to come home to you

Yes I get to come home to you

Oh I love coming home to you

Love, Ryan

I thought it was sweet. When he asked me if i had checked my email I said "No, why? Can you serve me with divorce papers via email?" I was mostly joking because I had been that special that day. We have our kinks to work through [always] but for the most {99.57%} part, we have a pretty great thing going. And it was nice to see him affected {effected?} by something that i love so much. That something being music.

Anyhow... nothing fancy tonight. Not implying that it is ever fancy. Just rambling...

What would your soundtrack/song be right now? Besides a song for 'bored' after reading this post. I don't know, is there a song for that...?

The topic for next week: "Hide and Seek: More Than a Game"

Oy. She's going to force me to think deep thoughts...

I.M.M. Pestilence 2010

2010-09-27T05:21:00.000-07:00

Ever heard of Indian Meal Moths? Well, we have. This summer we started noticing these little moths here and there. We didn’t pay them much attention because they are small, very still and easy to kill. We killed them when we saw them but past that, ignored them. It’s Arizona and some months it’s crickets, some months it’s carpet beetles, some months, roaches (Try going for a walk at night. the ground moves). Seasonal bugs are just part of the deal living in the desert.

One day I noticed a little tiny worm on the wall in our pantry. I was grossed out but quickly killed it and looked around to make sure that he didn’t bring any friends with him. He didn’t and so I, again, gave it little thought. A few days later the same thing happened. Then I wondered what was going on. I looked around and didn’t see anything too obvious so I continued to enjoy, for a time, my state of ignorant bliss. Days later, I noticed something different. A little tiny cocoon…with a worm in it. Now I’m getting seriously grossed out. I started looking around again and saw that suddenly everything had a worm, moth or cocoon hidden somewhere on it. I started cleaning out the pantry and realized that this was a job that was going to consume my whole life for an unknown amount of time. I googled ‘little moth, worm’ and all of the sudden the eyes of my eyes were opened to the world of Indian meal moths. They usually enter your home as hijackers on packaging from your local grocery store. I wouldn’t wish this pestilence upon my worst enemy. I threw away so much food. Spend two SOLID days inspecting with a flashlight and magnifying glass, EVERY corner of every box, bag and nook of our pantry and its contents. I cleaned, disinfected, shivered with disgust every time I killed one of those nasty little suckers, and screamed in anger whenever I opened a box and three moths flew out at my face. It was not fun. Not fun.

When the cleaning was all done, moths dead, worms squished (their blood and guts are sea foam green, by the way), pantry shiny clean, I had a thought; “You asked for this Natalie.” First I argued with the thought "Ya, right, i asked for this." And then I remembered. Earlier in the summer I prayed a prayer. I said the usual “Heavenly Father, please help me organize my unorganized spaces. I’m feeling better now and don’t want to be idle. Please help me be motivated to tidy up. Amen.” Usually, when I pray and ask for things like this, I say “Heavenly Father, please help me learn ________ (patience, compassion, organization, etc…) IN JOYFUL WAYS.” This Indian Meal Moth lesson was far from a joyful experience. However, it was necessary. Our pantry has always been the place in my house that is the messiest. Put on the back burner first, maintained just enough, never thorough, and never, ever would it be considered organized. I was wasting a lot time and money because of that pantry. I never knew exactly where anything was and spent way too much time searching for ingredients to make dinner. I never knew if we were out of beans until it was too late, never knew when I was at the grocery store if I needed spaghetti noodles so I bought them just in case. We have a lot of spaghetti noodles. I realized with that thought that I had asked for this. I had asked for help to clean out our messiest spaces. And I got it. He helped me. In that moment of realization, I was so grateful for Indian meal moths. My pantry has never been this clean. I have labels where every single thing goes. My kids love it. Sometimes I catch them just standing in front of the pantry, marveling at the order where once there was none.

A couple of weeks after the Meal Moth Pestilence of 2010, I read about ‘Elevating the Mundane’. Taking the mundane, most disliked spaces in your home and elevating them; making them places you love. It struck me that there is much joy to be found in elevating the mundane spaces in my home and life. And I am trying to do just that. I will be sharing these mini transformations here, hopefully on Mondays. Because the alliteration works best on Monday. Elevate the Mundane Tuesday just doesn’t ring like Elevate the Mundane Monday, does it? I am excited to have a focus. I need one. We have a lot of elevating to do around here before Cinco makes his grand entrance in 4+ months (eeeks, this is flying by!)...

Unfortunately, in the middle of moth/worm nastiness, i didn't think to take any pictures of my pantry before but use your imagination and think chaos covered in bugs. it wasn't quite like something you'd see on Hoarders, but close.

And After...

labels make my heart sing.

Blog Bandit; Week One

2010-09-22T18:25:00.000-07:00

***My Blog bandit post was postponed (no pun intended) because i have been out of town for my grandma's beautiful goodbye celebration. Here's a little reminder of what Christy gave me to write about.
"I don't want to be alone, I want to be left alone." -Audrey Hepburn

My mom gave me a choice; the palest pink, tiny flowered wallpaper, which I thought was elegant, timeless (yes that was really one of the factors for my 6 year old self in my choosing), and beautiful, but very mature, or brightly colored, pastel rainbow wallpaper that, too, was very beautiful, if a bit juvenile. I knew I would tire of the juvenile theme when I became “bigger girl”, but I went against my practical side and picked the rainbows anyway. At night I would lay in my white and gold bed with a pink canopy and by the light of my lamp stare at the rainbows and marvel at the diagonal pattern they made when I relaxed my eyes and wonder how they could make every single rainbow exactly the same. That room became my sanctuary and I could stay in there for hours dusting, straightening books on the little corner shelf, making sure that my Holly Hobby bedspread was perfectly straightened on my bed, all while making up songs that were so beautiful they would bring tears to my own eyes. It was a reverent place for me. There I felt alone, full and complete.

Now, as a grown up, I sit here in writing alone in my room by the light of my lamp. My room is not yet decorated, nor is it sanctuary-like in the slightest, aesthetically speaking, but in here I feel alone, full and complete again. Aside from the aesthetics, the thing that now has changed is a level of awareness of me. I don’t want to be alone. My relationships in my world are what I prize above any earthly thing. If a few days go by where I don’t commune with a dear friend, I do feel a little empty; sad for a reason I can’t quite put my finger on. Lonely. I need a good, stimulating conversation, a free flowing fit of laughter with someone who gets me, an occasional venting of pent up hurts, injustices or frustrations, a hug or kiss, a hand to hold or a back to scratch.

But then there are times when I am left alone. Not in the abandoned sense of the word where I am a lost soul, yearning to be ‘found’, but alone; the reverent kind. The kind like now; when my own thoughts fill my head, my weaknesses are free to come forward and present themselves like the Teachers that they are, where I won’t deny or reject them, but listen to them and thank them for stopping by. There are times when I am left alone and can sing to my heart’s content and even though I no longer make up my own ‘beautiful’ songs, I relish in the ones that are written so beautifully by other people that tears still come to my eyes. There are times where I am left alone and the life chatter is replaced with the Silence that I love.

I suppose the new perspective that I have now, as I am left alone writing by the light of my lamp, is this; even as a little girl, I was so content to be left alone, because I knew I wasn’t alone. I had a family that I loved, who got me. I had three little best friends with whom I could share a good, stimulating play day of make-believe, Barbie’s and bike rides, share unrestrained fits of laughter, and an occasional venting of pent up frustration, hurts and injustices. And here now, I still know all of those things. My family is still here, just having grown by number and name, still loving me, and trying to get me. My friends, new and old, still fill the same crucial role as they always have. And still, I don’t want to be alone; I want to be left alone, at times, to bathe in the gratitude I feel for the people and blessings that continue to flow into my rainbow papered world.

***Blog Bandit topic for next week: "The soundtrack of my life..."

Heaven Helped Her

2010-09-12T18:21:00.000-07:00

She went to heaven today.

I am grateful for the talk I had with her last Sunday. She was having a very lucid moment so I got to talk to her and tell her that I was expecting.

“Grandma, I’m having a baby.”

“You are, Hunny? What is this, six?”

“No, it’s five.”

“Okay, Hunny, that’s enough. Okay?”

I laughed. “Okay Grandma. But you have been telling me that since I had Piper. I’m pretty sure that five is enough but I am just trying to keep up with you.”

“Okay, Hunny. That’s great. Five.”

Before cancer she would told me to stop being so irresistible and then tell me that she was just too irresistible back in the day and that Grandpa couldn’t keep his hands off, and that’s why they had six kids. Then we would laugh and she would tell me a dirty joke about Adam and Eve and we would laugh some more. Then she would tell me to be sure to tell that one to Ryan.

“If you think of a name, let me know. Okay?”

“Oh, okay. I will do that, Sweety.”

A few minutes later my aunt called me back to tell me that Grandma had thought of a name. She was in the back ground giggling. Coyote. That was the name she came up with. I told my aunt to tell her that if I was on the strong pain medication she was on when she thought of that name when I had him then I probably would name him Coyote. If not…the odds weren’t too good.

Cancer is a mean, mean disease. It takes your strength. It takes your dignity. It taunts you by dangling Hope just out of reach. She fought it really hard. Sometimes with a horrible attitude but always with a deep, if newly found, dependence on God. They had lots of talks during these months of cancer, she and God. I know that He helped her ease over to the other side.

Ever since I found out that Grandma had cancer I have been worried about her being worried. She is a worrier. She didn’t care to drive much because it scared her. She never flew on an airplane because it scared her. She wasn’t a big fan of trying new things because it scared her. So she lived in her little house, in her little world and people who loved her came to her and every so often she would venture out and come to us. Grandma has told me many times of her fear of dying. She wasn’t sure of what was waiting on the other side or even if there was another side. That, more than anything, worried me.

Last week my aunt shared with my mom some sacred experiences that Grandmas has been having that brought me comfort and humility. She was being prepared to go. How arrogant of me to think that Heaven would make her nervously wonder while she suffered in body, mind and spirit. She certainly was suffering in body. I am sure, because of that, she was suffering, at times, in mind. But I don’t think she suffered much in the end in spirit. I assumed that she would be comforted and welcomed on the other side when she got there. I forget that He is aware of us and we are in His constant care. He wasn’t leaving her comfortless. Her fears were subsiding because she was in Heaven’s watch and care and she knew that.

She is such a feisty little thing that I thought she would fight Death until she couldn’t fight it anymore and then relent when her spirit was overcome by its strength. The hospice nurse came yesterday and her vital signs were all pretty good. Her lungs were good, her oxygen levels were good, all things considered, she guessed about another week or maybe even a little longer.

She surprised me, I think all of us, by peacefully submitting today to the newness that awaits her. I’d like to say that I know she is happy. I’m sure she is. I think, though, that she is looking down on her babies, all six of them, with tears in her eyes, new understandings about why some of them are the way that they are, and worry in her Mother Heart that they are sad now without her. I hope, for her, that in time, when things settle for her babies on this side of life, she steps forward, all the way into the light, out of her comfort zone and embraces all of the life that awaits her. Free of pain. Free of anger. Free of fear. Full of learning. Full of peace. Full of joy.

I love you Grandma Dot. If I could ask one thing now, please peek in on my four babies now and then and let them know you love them and that you are happy. They miss you. As for the fifth one, kiss him for me and let him know you before he comes. Assure him that we are ready to do our best to love him. Please don’t tell him any really dirty jokes. He’s still pretty pure. I’m sad that he won’t know you here but I'm grateful that he will get to see you at your best.

Be at peace, my sweet grandma. I love you.

Cowboy Up

2010-09-07T22:11:00.000-07:00

The following was written by my dear friend Christy. It is an introduction to our latest venture to be consistent in our blogging/journaling efforts.

Mostly when we sit around and have these talks; the 'i really want to be better/inspired/consistent...' talks, we eat ourselves silly and laugh too much and go to bed way too late. In the morning we have a food hang-over and are too tired to act on our drunken motivation from the night before. But this time is different and we have come up with a serious plan. Christy is a teller of stories and sometimes embellishes things just a tad. You'll see what I mean when she mentions my thighs (87 times). She is embellishing, and maybe even lying, but it would be rude to call such a delightful girl a liar. So I won't. Because she also says that i am 'Disney's dream come true' and while everyone who knows me, knows that the thighs comment is a fallacy, some people might still be fooled into thinking I'm nice. So, I'll leave that one be.

Without further ado, or thought of deleting the parts of this post from Christy that make me feel uncomfortable, i give you....the post that Christy wrote and I copied and pasted. From here on out, complete devotion and motivation. promise.

Lately I've been struggling with making the time to post consistently on this here blog. I know what you're thinking:

"Christy, with all the floods, famine, wars and celebri-taunts heading off to jail, posting on your blog is what you're 'struggling' with??

"And to that I say....

YES.

I'm just that clueless.

...and I'm even bigger into cliches.

So I'm 'bout to drop a big one on you. Because, you see...

This blog is my journal. (BOOM!)Did you feel that?

I know that is probably one of the most over-used descriptions of why it is so fetching (bringing back an oldie-but-goodie with that one. Holla at me Utah!) important for us to do "the blog", but also quite true. The idea of leaving honest snap shots of my life for my girls to go back to when I'm no longer here is very important to me. (Not too mention the warm fuzzies I get with every comment I receive, no matter how misguided the compliments are. You guys are waaay to nice to me. I'm sure that will change once you get to know me better.)

All of this very important thinking that I've been doing on the subject of blogging led me to having a conversation with one of my FLAVORITE bloggers (and people) Natalicious. If you don't know her, picture the sassy spunk and tiny thighs of Tinkerbell mixed with the morals and wisdom (and tiny thighs) of Jiminy Cricket. She's Disney's dream come true. She's also a great motivator, which is why I found myself bouncing ideas off her tiny thighs a few days ago:

"I want to post more, but I have no motivation," I whined, over the phone, while licking the wrapper of a Symphony chocolate bar.

"I think that would be possible if you didn't use up all of your energy feverishly licking every last ounce of chocolate from your candy bar wrappers," (I'm pretty sure) she thought to herself, concerned.

"I think you should. I'd like to as well. Maybe we can try something together?" she actually said, out loud, because she's way too nice and tiny thighed to ever say or think something like the above quote.

"That *slurp* would *snarf* be fun !" I warbled enthusiastically, in between licks of the runaway chocolate that made it's way to the phone's receiver and the crook of my arm."For heaven's sake! I'll buy you more chocolate! Please stop attacking those crumbs as like a pig routing through garbage!" (I'm pretty sure) she thought to herself, although she never really would because she lives by the acronym "WWJD", or "What Would Jiminy Do?"

No, no. That would've never crossed her mind. In fact, she's been enabling my chocolate habit for years. (Just the other night she sent me a text offering me "a fix" of Texas sheet cake. "The first one's free, Christy" Uh-huh.)

Instead my sweet friend sat there encouraging me until we came up with a plan to motivate each other. And since lately I've needed a "gun to my head" to keep me on track with writing, the idea was born:

BLOG BANDITS!

Once a week, each of us would "hand over" our blogs to each other (in true bandito style) and let the other choose the topic we would write about for that post. The bandit can choose to ask a question, post a quote for you to comment on, or simply give you a one word topic to write about. The sky's the limit. No matter what the bandit says, you MUST write about their topic of choice and you MUST post it every Wednesday.

And for fun, I'm going to write every bandit post in character while wearing a handkerchief and chewin' tabacky. So there you have it. Starting next Wednesday both Natalie and I will be taking each other's blog "by the horns" and forcing one another to write about the things we choose for topics.

While I begin work on a nicotine addiction. *spit* (clank!)

Y'all come back now, ya here??***************************

THE BANDIT'S TOPIC for 9/15/10:

"I don't want to be alone, I want to be left alone." -Audrey Hepburn

Fly on Our Wall Friday- There's a Fundus Among Us-

2010-09-05T21:10:00.000-07:00

For years, I have believed that everyone knew what a fundus was. I found out one night this summer that i was wrong.

We had gone to bed, prayed, turned the t.v. off and were starting to drift off to dream. I was laying there thinking about the changes going on in my body. I pushed on my belly to see if i could feel my baby's growing domain. Indeed, i felt it and quietly said, in case he was already asleep, "Babe, do you want to feel my fundus?" He lay quietly for a second and said "ummmm.....yes, please?"

I smiled and asked him "do you know what a fundus is?"

"Nope."

And then we laughed really hard.

i'm in a little love...

2010-09-05T20:28:00.000-07:00

I'm in a little love, and I'm in a little deep. With this guy...

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Baby boy, we can't wait to meet you and breathe you in and whisper in your sweet little baby ears how happy we are that you came to us.

Due Valentines Day 2011.

The Power of Three

2010-09-02T12:54:00.000-07:00

The Power of Three is usually only relevant for us in regards to broken appliances and the like. Example: 1st the fridge, 2nd the washing machine, 3rd the dishwasher. (insert brief time lapse) 1st the microwave, 2nd the shower, 3rd the oven. This time the story is different and about me. If you are tired of reading about me, look away.

I.
Last Thursday I slept downstairs on an air mattress. Ryan and I may have been experiencing some discontent with one another, but the main reason I was sleeping on a different bed is that we have two visitors in our bed Every. Single. Night. Visitor one; Lennon. Visitor two; Crue. And while they are welcome in our presence almost every other moment of our lives, the middle of the night is not one of them. Actually, it bothers me more than it bothers Ryan. He can function on very little sleep, and I function best on lots and lots of sleep. When I don’t get enough sleep I tend to be rotten-ish and my rotten-ish mood might have been why Ryan and I may have been experiencing some discontent, along with pride and unrealistic expectations of each other. Anywho… So around 3:00 in the morning I awakened to excruciating pain in my back. I go to move and can’t. I literally cannot move my head, use any of the muscles attached to my head, neck, or shoulders. To say I was stuck would be true, but understated. I willed myself up off the ground/air mattress using as many other muscles as I could but I had never considered that the said pained muscles were used to do everything from yawn to sit up.

I yelled to Ryan, which was super humbling because I was trying to be mad at him, and he didn’t hear me. I started to walk up the stairs and it hurt too badly so I tried to lie down on the couch. Big mistake. It made me cry in pain. I almost never cry from physical pain. I tried to sit back on the couch. Bigger mistake. That pain made me think I should go to the hospital. If I could have turned my head, I probably would have done that but I figured driving with such limited mobility of my head would be a dumb thing to do. I thought about calling someone on the phone for help. But realized that there isn’t anyone that I love or hate who deserves to be (1.) woken up in the night and/or (2.) see me in my shanties, which were my pj’s of choice that particular night. It’s hot downstairs. I live in the desert. You do it too. So instead I suffered through sitting very straightly on the couch and watching four dvr’d episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond until my kids woke up to get ready for school. I called Ahlena to rescue Crue and I from each other and she came right away. I got into my Dr. that mid-morning and he adjusted me. Thank Heaven! It didn’t help right away because I was seriously out of whack. It took until Tuesday for me to fully function and yesterday was my first full day without moderate to excruciating pain when I try to move my head. I’m still sore, but a zillion times better than before.

II.
Tuesday morning I woke up feeling so happy that my head could move and my headache was gone for the time being. It was shaping up to be an amazing day and I hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet. Then I got out of bed. I stepped on my right foot and felt like I was stepping on a million pins. My heel was broken. I couldn’t put any pressure on it. I had no idea what I had done but it hurt like Hades. On one hand I wanted to crawl back in bed and start over and on the other I was just grateful to have use of my neck. I figured I could walk it off. I couldn’t. It still, as I type two days later, is killing me. Diagnosis: plantar fasciitis. Plantar fasciitis is really, really painful. Everything you read makes it seem like no big deal but it hurts and is annoying.

III. (warning: some material in event III. may be disturbing for some viewers. Viewer discretion is advised. Really, if you have a weak stomach or can't handle blood, look away when i tell you to. )

Yesterday I was {making another stupid, no good attempt to try} sewing. I accomplished nothing and decided to pack it up and put my projects away. I picked up my seam ripper and thought to myself, “I wish I could find the cover for this thing. It’s really sharp and could hurt someone.” I put it in the pocket of my sewing stuff holder and tucked it up against the side of the couch. I left all of the other messes on the couch and floor.

I ate some lunch, cleaned up a bit and headed upstairs to take a shower while Crue was still asleep and before I had to go get the kids from school. When I got upstairs I heard my phone ring downstairs and decided I should go down and see who it was. When I got downstairs I couldn’t find my phone but decided that the sewing mess needed to be cleaned up before I showered.

I picked up my sewing machine and started walking to the other room when all of the sudden my leg got stabbed and ripped open by something really sharp. Something that I wish I had a lid for and that didn’t get tucked all the way in the pocket of my sewing stuff holder. My seam ripper. I may have cursed. Then started praying. I need to work on reversing that order or better yet, eliminating the cursing part. For the record, my swear words of choice aren’t even considered swear words in Texas or the bible.

Then I remember looking down at my comfiest (most decent comfy pants!) and see them covered in blood and feeling irritated. But only for a second because I started sweating and shaking a little bit. Then I hopped to the kitchen with my leg up really high so that there would be less blood to clean up off of the floor. I called Ryan. No answer. I called again. No answer. I texted “come home please. I need stitches.” No reply. Then I thought to myself “okay, Natalie, pull it together. You need stitches. How do you know you need stitches, you haven’t even seen this cut. (Peek at wound) Oh boy, you need stitches. (look away now if you don't like grossness)

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Where do you get stitches? The doctor, urgent care, or the ER. Very good. Stop breathing like that, nothing good can come from you breathing like that, Natalie. Slower…Deeper. Okay, it’s your week to drive carpool. Call your mom and see if she can come and do carpool for you. Okay. Now call your husband again because he has scouts tonight, Crayton has scouts and Copiera tonight, and piper has soccer and if you go to the emergency room, you won’t be home in time to take them to these activities. Okay. Wait, that won’t work. All of the carpool kids won’t fit in the car and so Crue needs to be dropped off at Jenn’s. Mom doesn't know where Jenn lives. Plan B. Call Ahlena and see if she can pick up half of car pool kids and have mom get my kids now. Good thinking. Okay, now you haven’t even showered today. You aren’t going anywhere in your pajamas (different pajamas than those worn in event I.) at 2:00 in the afternoon. Go get in the shower. Okay. First, check on your wound and cover it up with a Band-Aid. Okay maybe three band aids. If you could just pull the cut together enough to get some band aids on it…Okay good enough. Now shower. Now dress yourself. Now for heaven’s sake, Nat, put some makeup on, yikes, that's worse than your cut! Okay,this doesn't really hurt too bad and mom should be here any minute, so, in the mean time why don't you unload the dishwasher? (Fast forward 40 minutes... ) (look away again...)

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At dr’s office…get 12 stitches. 6 on the inside of your leg and 6 on the outside. And done. Now off to scouts, soccer and Capoeira, but not before you buy yourself a Whatchamacalit for being so good at the Dr.. King size, of course.

And that finishes off the Power of Three. Unless you want to add a fourth event which would be meeting Crayton’s Capoeira instructor last night who was wearing tight white pants that showcased his um…man parts. Yuck. I think I need to lay low for awhile to avoid any more traumatic events, you think? What a week. I hope that the myth of the Power of Three is true and it really isn't The Power of Four. My family,(and ahlena) can’t handle me experiencing the Power of Fours (err, Fives…).

Indian (burn) Summer

2010-08-22T20:40:00.000-07:00

What a week. School is back in full swing. Crue is very lonely {needy} all day {every day}. I have been trying to slow down and enjoy the quality time with him. But mostly he just begs for food and even more attention {and if I’m honest, there couldn’t be more attention placed on one child. Stories, cozy TV time, constant stimulating conversation, sticker books…). It doesn’t help that he had a nightmare about clowns awhile back and so now I can’t leave his sight. He is terrified to be alone. I can’t get anything done around here, and so it is, my house has gone straight to Satan. Who lives in hell. Oh well. Life happens. And I love this life. Even if I don’t love messy houses.

Oh how I cried the first week of school (and the weeks before school). I don’t love it when my kids go back to school. I miss them. I miss Crayton’s sweetness and attention to activity planning (even though it is intense and challenges my weaknesses, as I struggle with planning and socializing) and his ever-ready smile that he saves in his back pocket just for me when we make eye contact or when we do our secret ‘I love you’ hand squeeze. I miss Piper’s constant cravings for summer smoothies, and listening to her guide her little brother and sister from activity to activity. I miss her sweet little voice in the background all day. I have always loved her voice. I miss her sweetness and hearing her laugh and squeal when they all swim together. I miss Lennon’s playfulness. She and Crue can be compared to two little kittens. They play all day long. Giggling and laughing and entertaining each other like two little friends. I miss her loud voice and stringy swim hair. I miss the challenge that is getting her to say ‘I love you’ back. I miss tucking her in for a nap and sneaking a peak at her beautiful sleeping face.

As you have probably gathered, Lennon is in kindergarten now. And along with extra quiet and chaos, and tears, this week also brought with it a letter home from my kindergartner’s teacher. It read something like this:

Natalie,
Lennon has had a difficult day. She has been off task and talking a lot. She got in trouble for giving and teaching others to give Indian burns. When I asked her about this she said that Crayton loves Indian burns. She made two girls cry.

Also, lennon has been wearing striped tights. School uniform code states that only school colors are allowed; blue, white, tan, or gray. Please talk to her about this.

Thank you,
Mrs. G.

Before I discovered this note, Lennon came home as normal. She walked upstairs and said a quiet hello. I figured that she was tired. I hugged her and asked her how her day went. She shrugged and said “fine”. I asked her what the very best thing was about her day and she shrugged again. I noticed the sun shining through her eyes and noticed how beautiful and blue and almost translucent they were. I said “well, was the very best thing that happened today when I told you that you have the most beautiful, blue eyes that I have ever seen?” She came alive. She beamed and giggled and hugged me again and skipped off to her room, still smiling, to change out of her boring uniform into something that better suited her taste; a bathing suit, cut off denim shorts, a tank top and a knit winter beanie.

Later on when I was going through backpacks, I found the note. I went up to her room, where she had just finished changing into yet another expressive {un-matching} outfit. I said “Lennon, I just got this note from your teacher. Do you want to tell me about it?” Crying ensued along with a stream of ‘I’m sorry’s. I was struggling to keep a straight face and a clear mind because sometimes when someone criticizes my cubs, my mama bear instincts kick in and I want to defend them to the bitter end. Whether they are wrong or not. But I knew though that she had broken the rules and needed to be disciplined. We had a talk about respecting other people and never ever hurting anything or anyone. We talked about staying on task and how it is disrespectful and frustrating for her teacher when she gets too chatty. She talked through choked sobs and wiped streams of tears while telling her side of the story and apologizing for the mistakes that she had made. By the time she was done she finally said “do you (sob) think my teacher (sob) will ever (sob) forgive me?” I assured her that she would indeed be forgiven and then Lennon suggested a note to tell her that she was sorry. We sat down together and for the next hour she (with only a little bit of help from me) penned a very sincere note of apology.
Dear Mrs. G,
I am very sore (sorry) for making bad choises (choices). I did not men (mean) too mak (make) grlz (girls) cri(cry). I am sore (sorry) for toking (talking) too much. I rele (really) doo (do) not lik (like) being on yelo. Plez (please) frgiv (forgive) me.
Luv,
Lennon

I hope that her teacher comes to know her heart. She went into her class as “Piper’s little sister” and I think that her teacher was expecting another Piper. Lennon is not a Piper. She is a Lennon. And there is only one of her. She is a Number Three. She has fought for her place in her family, her place with her friends, who are mostly older than her, and has learned things that Number Three’s learn from Number One’s and Two’s, like how to give and receive Indian burns. She has strengths and weaknesses and gifts and lots to learn. I hope that her teacher comes to know that she is willing, vibrant, funny, spirited, and teachable. Just like Piper was, with a little sprinkle of Number Three sas. There is a lot to love about Miss Lennon. Just like there was much to love about Miss Piper. But the attributes in this little one are going to have to be figured out just like the attributes had to be figured out in Piper. I hope she knows that my Lennon is well worth the investment. Because the love she will earn in return is priceless and forever.

School is back in full swing. This year is sure to present new learning opportunities for all of us. For me, how to clean and entertain a lonesome three year old, along with how to let my little ones learn lessons that I wish they could learn at home, with me, where I love them no matter what. For them, how to conform without losing themselves and their strengths and their Spirit. Notice, we didn’t address the striped tights. I think those might just make an appearance back at school sooner than later. She might be the first five year old to challenge the boring sock clause in the school dress code. She will have the full support of Number One and Number Two, because they all love each other and I think they’ll have her back.

out with the old

2010-08-11T21:46:00.000-07:00

i haven't gone private. My blog has been under construction. It's like when your house is messy; you'll let people in if they come but if you could pretend you aren't home until it's cleaned up, you totally would. That's what i did with my blog today, pretended i wasn't home until i cleaned up my messes.

Like everything else in my life lately, i needed a more simple look and feel. i cleaned out my pantry today and yesterday (another blog post, another day) and my prize was the evening to revamp my blog. What do you think? Any annoying quirks? Things you miss, things i should add? let me have it.

p.s. tomorrow i will be really cleaning my real house, so...if i don't come to the door, you know why. If you are bearing baked goods knock seven times loudly. Don't ring the doorbell. It doesn't work. If you aren't bearing baked goods, it can probably wait until Friday.

Home

2010-08-08T21:19:00.000-07:00

{Image} My long absence has no real excuse. Well, lots of excuses, lots of reasons (there is a difference), but none that can compensate for my missing of this sacred (for me) space to write my thoughts.
As is known, I have been feeling a slight bit under the weather for many months now. I have struggled, and risen, and grown, and shrunk, been in darkness and seen much light. I am so happy to report that on the whole, I am doing so. much. better. I feel the fog lifting and myself coming back. It has been humbling {awe-inspiring, awesome, overwhelming}. It has been humiliating {embarrassing, mortifying, shameful, degrading, crushing}. I know beyond anything that there is truly an opposition in all things. Sickness and health, joy and sorrow, light and dark, pleasure and pain. It is all part of a greater plan and I am grateful to experience it in such a personal, and all things considered, easy, way. Give me Epstein Barr over many of the other real struggles that so many suffer with. I’m not complaining. (although, I have done my fair share of that).

For awhile now I have had a wonderful group of ladies come into my home every couple of weeks or so to help me with cleaning. I know that that sentence in and of itself can bring upon me great judgment. I’m okay with it. It’s where I am. Four kids was a kicker for me on many levels and I was okay to admit that I needed help. I was okay to admit that cleanliness was so important to me that I was better off cutting back in other areas so that my house could feel more orderly and I could spend more time with my kids. I was happier, more carefree, more willing to serve others, and I worked harder in my home than ever before but with purpose and positive results. Before the cleaning ladies, that didn’t happen. Well, enter in Epstein Barr and all of the emotional sorting that needed to be done upon its invasive arrival and I didn’t have the physical capability to clean my own home. I needed help. I am so grateful for those ladies.

I haven’t been having the cleaning ladies come most of this summer because of trips, and kid messes, and the budgeting of said trips. I have missed them but not as much as I thought. A few weeks ago we had a going away party for some friends. Of course before a gathering at your home, you work to prepare it for the gathering of kindred spirits. You want it to be clean. You want it to feel like a place of order, a place of prayer. You want your family and your values to be reflected.

“When friends enter a home, they sense its personality and character, the family’s style of living- these elements make a house come alive, with a sense of identity, a sense of energy, enthusiasm, and warmth, declaring, “This is who we are; this is how we live.”
-Ralph Lauren

The going away party was a little bit last minute and I knew that the schedule of the cleaning ladies wouldn’t work with the schedule of the party. I was going to clean my own house. I spent Friday picking up and then Ryan took the kids on a Friday night for a few hours so that I could clean. Like deeply clean. I turned my music up (Don Williams, Mindy Gledhill, Trisha Yearwood, Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians and the Eagles) and got to work. It was a sacred time for me. To finally feel good enough to clean my own home was a gift; one that I was thanking my Father in Heaven for the entire time that I cleaned. There is a quote that I thought of as I cleaned my doors and baseboards, and fingerprint covered light plates.

Time to dust again.
Time to caress my house,
to stroke all its surfaces.
I want to think of it as a kind of lovemaking
…the chance to appreciate by touch
What I live with and cherish.
-Gunilla Norris

My body has healed enough for me to be able to clean my home (!!!). To dust again. To caress my house. What a blessing, what a gift. It is something that I don’t want to forget. An experience and realization that I can’t imagine taking for granted again. I still struggle with my own incapacities that are separate from the sickness. Zigzag organizing, lack of motivation, lack of time management, idleness; the usual, the things that when I am at my healthiest I struggle with. Now, more than ever, I am grateful for the incapacities that I can choose to overcome. I talked with God today and recommitted myself to consecrate my life. My life; the mundane tasks. I took them for granted before. I hope to not do it {forget} again. It’s really good to be back. Really, really good.

Looking back, today wasn't as bad as it seemed...

2010-05-11T21:05:00.000-07:00

Things i loved about today:

I didn’t wake up to fighting kids.

I showered by 6:30 a.m.

I stayed nice to everyone until about 9:45 a.m.

The craziest day of my carpool week is over.

I was on time for every single carpool run today (except 2 but one wasn't my fault)

I gathered and sorted a lot of laundry. Washed (and rewashed) some as well.

I found myself on an impromptu grocery run all alone.
*The good things that happened during that run:

*I figured out what we were having for dinner while I was there.

*Watermelon was on sale. When I buy watermelon it speaks straight to Piper’s heart and she knows that if I a.) buy watermelon then I must b.) really truly love her. The same thing happens with kiwi’s but it’s not kiwi season. That girl loves produce.

*I thumped and tapped my way to a perfect watermelon. I have an ear for that.

*I was on the salad dressing isle and all of the dressings I needed were on sale.

*While on the salad dressing isle I looked around because I was talking to myself and wanted to make sure no one noticed and the two other people on the isle were talking to themselves too. Like, really loud. I kept on talking and so did they. It was awesome.

*While I am at Fry’s I always check their organic section for clearance. I was looking for milk but had moved on from that section and the worker lady said “you weren’t, by chance, looking for organic milk were you?” I told her that I was and she said “well, I was getting ready to clearance it. Want some?” I was apprehensive to tell her yes because even at its cheapest, organic milk is still pretty pricey. But I did and she asked how many I needed. I told her 3. She marked it from $8/gallon to $2.50! I was so happy. Also, eggs were marked down from $5/dozen to $1.25. Happy chickens make healthy eggs, and healthy eggs on clearance make a happy Nat.

I met the roofer at our old house today. He was there to revisit an old leaking issue. It was out of warranty and causing problems with mold etc. I was concerned it was going to be pricey. It probably should have been pricey. He fixed it right there. For free. I felt loved by my Father in Heaven. I know it was a tender mercy. I needed one today. I didn’t deserve one today. I have had a rotten attitude since about 9:46 a.m.

It felt good to be at our old house. I love that house. It still feels good, like Love lives there. The people that live there now are really great. It smells nice too. I like when things smell nice. We haven’t had stinky renters ever. I’m so grateful. I would feel sad if that house got stinky.

Crue keeps telling me “Happy Mudda’s Day, mommy.” Sometimes he throws in a “happy bu’day too, mommy!” And he has been holding my face in his hands and saying “I wub oo so much, mommy!” (It totally cancels out the fact that he yelled at me today and told me i am a beavis and that he doesn't want me to be his "baby sitta any mo-uh!")

The weather has been amazing! It was a cool, breezy day.
(In May in Phoenix! What?!?)

Lennon didn’t have to be begged to get buckled once today. She just did it. She also didn’t cry about what she was wearing to dance class today. A first. (Cancels out the fit she threw before preschool about what she was wearing before she changed into the hideous outfit she ended up wearing with out my blessing.)

I re-read the poem that Crayton wrote me for Mother’s Day:

Your eyes twinkle like the stars on a black night.
You yourself shine like the sun on a cloudless day.
Your smile could blind a person.

Because you are my mother.

You are as dark as the night sky.
You are as bright as the sun on a summer day.
People look up to you.
So stand tall.
You are my mother.

It makes me cry. I love it so much.

It’s 9:20 now and i am going to bed. Sounds like a perfect, cozy ending to a not-quite-as-bad-as-it-seemed-before-i-sat-down-to-write-this-kind of day.

Red Box

2010-05-10T13:25:00.000-07:00

I am pretty sure that the future execs at Red Box were sitting around one day wondering if their new idea of dvd’s that come out of a big box could really take off. They knew that they had the makings of a big idea but wanted to be sold on it just a little bit more. A promising young man by the name of Winston Warner was summoned by the execs and given the challenge of presenting one final Power Point presentation to convince them that their genius idea was, in fact, genius.

Winston provided them with all of the flattering facts and figures. And, to show that Winston was really a thorough thinker, he also felt it obligatory to show them the kinks and quirks that could irk the execs if they cut into their bottom line and grew out of control. Winston went on to say something like this…

"Now even if the machines break and cost X amount of dollars to fix and even if the machines are vandalized and even if the DVD’s get stolen, it won’t effect our profit earnings or bottom line, because, gentlemen, it comes down to one thing": [and then he shows them this picture].
"Stupid people."

"Even if there are problems with the machines, we will always have money to fix them because of these people. I have researched them and they are the reason that Red Box will not only succeed, but shut down Blockbuster, and Hollywood Video! I have researched these people and when they had a library card, they would check out library movies, not ever have time to watch them, and then pay an exorbitant amount in late fees. Just think; if they paid all of their late fees which they owe at their city library, their library could host A-list celebrities to read stories to children every week. Complete with the construction of a new landing strip in the park behind the library to accommodate the A-lister’s private jets. Now, they are in negotiations with the library right now to cut the fees in half and get their cards re-instituted, but that won’t be an issue with Red Box because, gentlemen, you can’t! negotiate! With! A! Box! You simply put $1 on the big red box and they’re sold. Hook, line, and sinker. They think that they will rent the DVD and, responsibly, watch it that very evening and return it the very next day. However, they won’t. Life will happen, the DVD will get put on the back burner. They will realize that sitting down to watch a movie just isn’t going to happen and,responsibly, they will put it in the car with every intention of dropping it off on their next outing. They will, however, forget, drive it around in their car for 2 weeks until they find it under the seat. Why, just last week they returned 2 DVD’s and paid over $20! Today, one DVD, $10. Gentlemen, you will succeed. I don’t have a doubt! But when you do, just know that it is because of

Stupid people."

I Should Be Doing Laundry...

2010-04-13T13:23:00.000-07:00

My friend Emily asked for a post. She’s right, I have had some beautiful days since 3/27. I have been much too tired to write about them. You see, I am thinking about starting a new blog titled “Musings of a Mormon Mother with Mononucleosis” Not that the ‘Mormon’ part changes much in regards to being a mother with mononucleosis but when making attempts at alliteration one must pull out all the stops/cards. Including the religion card/stop. I have been in the throws of feeling like an emotional basket case. If you have asked me to do something for you and I haven’t responded please forgive me. If you have left me a message via text, email or phone and I haven’t called you back or otherwise responded, please know that it isn’t even weighing heavily on my mind because when one is undergoing extreme fatigue, one’s memory is the first system to shut down and I don’t even remember what I forgot. But I am still sorry. If I was supposed to pick your kid up for preschool and didn’t show up, please know that I was embarrassed and it might happen again. I hope not, but it might. If you have said hello to me and I cried, sorry for making you feel awkward (mostly that’s to you, Laura). If you have caused me to feel happy, sad, surprised, concerned, or any other human emotion and I have cried, causing you to wonder what to do next and how politely to exit the situation, again, please forgive me. I feel just as awkward as you do. If you are Ryan and I yelled at you a little bit on Saturday night because you didn’t know how to play General Conference Jeopardy and then I cried, I’m sorry. And if we are being honest here, Babe, you could have tried a little harder. If you are my doctor and you called me to tell me that I should be feeling tired right now and you would like me to get those follow up tests you have asked for [a couple of times now] and I cried so hard I snorted in your ear. Sorry. And also, if you are my doctor and you suggested that I get a tissue, after said snort, and I cried even harder and told you that I couldn’t because I was hiding from my kids in Lennon’s bedroom because my kids are so loud and was, therefore, using my shirt instead of suggested tissue, I apologize. Embarrassing at its max. I don’t usually hide from them. I promise. Nor do I usually wipe boogers on my shirt. (anyone who I have talked to on the phone while hiding in my closet so that I could hear you, please refrain from mentioning that in the comments)

So, in other news…

*I am wondering if anyone knows anything great to do in or around Miami. Please tell me ASAP.

*I have started another blog titled “A Soul Made Visible”. It’s supposed to be where I write about all of my insights and learning experiences that I am having while being sickly (and yes, there have been many learning opportunities and spiritual whisperings as to what my next steps should be). I think when we go through trials our souls grow and I would love for mine to come to surface a little bit more. Even just for posterity or clarity sake. It is also going to be private so as to spare you with the gory/’please, nat, I beg of you to get a filter’ details of my life right now. If I ever write on my new blog it will be a miracle. But isn’t it a nice title?

*I like to ride my green tote gote around my neighborhood. I hop on it when I need to run pick up one of my kids or borrow cheese from the neighbors. When I ride it I feel young and alive. When it breaks down on the busier road and I have to jump off and start it (like you start a lawnmower) 37 times in front of expressionless teenagers dressed in black I feel really old and dumb. But mostly it’s worth it because I love feeling young and alive. And I am helping save the earth because my van uses more gas.

*I am still growing my hair out but yesterday i got it trimmed and re-shaped. I love getting my hair done. My hair person (what do you call a hair person? a stylist? a guru?) is lovely and i so enjoy our time together. She is often an answer to prayers (not hair prayers, i'm not that shallow). I love her.

*I can’t wait to feel better. I really can’t. For now, I’m off to nap. Even though I should be doing laundry. (or any one of a million other things I have fallen behind on) Dr’s orders.

A Most Beautiful Day

2010-03-27T19:49:00.001-07:00

I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.

-St. Paul

Lennon saw something she deemed beautiful the other day. She begged me urgently to put some batteries in her camera so that she could take a picture of whatever it was. I said “Wow, punkin, you must feel really inspired by that. I’ll come down in a minute to put some batteries in your camera.” She asked me what inspired meant. I thought for a second then said “It’s when something around you makes your heart feel good and you want to capture it in a special way.” She thought for a second then said quite seriously, “then yes, mommy, I am inspired today.” I have been trying to look around me since that little talk with my third born and be more inspired by simple things, like she was. Yesterday I took Lennon and Crue to the park. It was a beautifully breezy, cool, but warm day. I wore my best paparazzi garb (think old baseball hat, sweatpants, an over sized hoodie and sunglasses) and brought my I-pod and a stack of note cards on which to write notes of gratitude to people whom I love very much. Lennon and Crue’s playing sounds and giggles combined with Norah Jones and Ella Fitzgerald’s sweet singing voices, all being carried away on a breeze was the pinnacle of my inspiration yesterday. I soaked in every second of it, along with a good dose of Vitamin D from the soft sunshine. I haven’t yet looked up the exact definition of inspired. I have been meaning to so that if it comes up again, I can be better equipped with the ‘right answer’. I don’t think I need to now. Mine is working just fine.

(Lennon + The Ballet) = (Oil + Water)

2010-03-19T13:46:00.000-07:00

I took the girls to see Sleeping Beauty. It was put on by Ballet Arizona and I thought that they would love the magic of a ballet. I couldn’t have been more wrong about the love or the magic. Piper merely tolerated it. She also got caught playing Bejeweled on my cell phone instead of watching the ballet. Lennon was a whole different story. She didn’t tolerate it, even merely. Within the first five minutes the questions/comments began...

L: When are they going to talk?

Me: They don’t talk. They just dance.

L: What?! They just dance. The whole time? Not even one time talking???

Me: No, Sweetie, this is the ballet. They just do ballet and tell a story through their dancing.

L: Is it oh-most (almost) over?

Me: No.

L: Are they going to kiss?

Me: Yes, probably by the end they will have kissed.

L: Is it the end yet?

Me: No.

L: When is Sleeping Beauty going to come?

Me: She’s right there.

L: What?! She doesn’t even look like Sleeping Beauty. Where is her long dress? It’s not even yellow. When is she going to look like my Sleeping Beauty Barbie? That’s not even her. Her hair isn't like that. Mom, that's not her!

Me: She is different in this ballet.

L: big sigh. Is it oh-most over yet? Are they bout to kiss?

Me: Watch and see.

L: Are those boys even wearing any underwear?

Me: Probably not.

L: That’s disgusting. You can see their whole ‘tire (entire) butts.

Me: (thinking to myself how glad I am that she only notices the butts) SHhhh….

L: Are they bout to kiss?

Me: SHhhhhhh….

L: I’m hungry

Me: SHHHHHH…..

L: Is it bout over?

Me: No…not yet.

L: Are they bout to kiss?

Me: No.

L: Is it day or night outside in our real life?

Me: It’s still day time.

L: It seems like it would be night.

Me: Shhh…

L: Are the girls wearing underwear then?

Me: Probably not.

L: I’m Hungry.

L: Are they ever going to kiss?

Me: Look! They are about to kiss.

L: (watching kiss intently) That was dumb. And disgusting. Why did they even kiss?

Me: SHhhh…..

L: Why are they still dancing? You said that when they kissed we could leave!

Me: SHhhh….

L: I’m so hungry.

L: I need to go potty.

L: Can I dist stand up?

L: I’m so hungry.

Man in front of us: Dirty, angry stare at Lennon.

L upon final bow: Finally! Can we get out of here? I’m so hungry. That kiss was dumb. This belt hurts mom. Can we eat?

Me: Making a mental note that Lennon is not ready for the ballet. Also making a mental note that maybe neither am I. I was pretty bored myself. And hungry.

Depleted. Deflated. Defeated. and Mad.

2010-03-10T17:05:00.000-08:00

So, it seems that I am mad today. Not at anyone. Just at the way things go sometimes. Well, maybe a little at someone too. But I went into a situation with an expectation. “Expect nothing and you won’t be disappointed”. My fault, not the fault of the insensitive individual of whom I speak. But, really, when will I learn?
(no, it’s not Ryan)

I started getting a cold the other day. My throat hurt, my head hurt a little and now today my whole body aches and I am sweaty and freezing cold. I can’t breathe. I’m Mad.

It’s the 4th cold I have tried to fight off in a about a month or so. Usually I get on top of it with the very first symptom and kick it before it really even hits. This one came out of nowhere and I didn’t catch it in time. Mad.

I got a call from the Dr.’s office today. I was awaiting lab results. I went in to the Dr. very hopeful that I could find out why I am so tired all the time. I guess not just find out why, but find out what to do about it when I found out the why. I got a call from some girl there who told me that I likely have Valley Fever and should get re-tested. I also have Mono, and high cholesterol. It was followed by a cheery “but the rest of your tests came back normal. Bye.” So, I did find out the ‘why’, but it seems that I am on my own for the ‘what to do about it’. And now I’m mad.

Maybe if this news came on a day that I was feeling like my normal version of crappy I would be handling it better but it came today when I feel sick and so it feels like a lot. I’m mad that the things that I have to do to feel better take a lot of energy. Change my diet completely, exercise, even though I feel really tired when I exercise, educate myself and go through the trial and error with supplements, oils, herbs, and homeopathies until I feel good. That feels, to me, like it’s going to take a lot of energy. Ironically, it’s energy that I am lacking. And I have to give a lot of energy to hopefully get some back. Mad.

So much of me tries to shake the tired off. But I can’t anymore. I can’t ever tell if I am just a wimp or if there is something wrong with me. I feel like there is a constant struggle with the natural man and me. The battle in my head says ‘I am being lazy. There isn’t a legitimate reason to feel tired. Maybe if I pray it away, or work harder, or be better...’. Now, I have a legitimate reason for feeling like I feel and I’m mad that I still doubt it and I still feel like I should be able to do more than I do. Than I can.

I know that I have four kids and being a mom can make one tired. I’ve heard that so many times. “Of course you’re tired. You have a million kids.” But my kids usually energize me. They are full of life and they make me laugh. They make me smile. They make me shake my head in awe with how creatively they just made all the messes they just made. So while it can be tiring to be on top of their needs, and meals, and messes, they really are more energizing than draining. That kind of tired [the million kids tired] I can handle [at least until bed time]. This tired is deep. Like to my core. I’m [so, so very] tired of being tired. And Mad.

I guess instead of wasting anymore energy being mad, I need to move on to step one. What is step one? I suppose getting on my knees will lend some insight to that question. It usually does. This time my questions to Him will be different. My requests will be different. So maybe my Help will be different. We'll see...

p.s. upon near-completion of this post an appointed officer of the court just served ryan with ANOTHER traffic (camera) violation. I HATE PHOTO ENFORCEMENT. [almost as much as i hate mono.]

Friday Night Fever

2010-03-02T19:39:00.001-08:00

Usually our Friday nights look something like this:

You know, we just hang out in wife beater tanks, blond Hannah Montana wigs and tie naked babies, who pick their noses [a lot!], to bar stools. However this past Friday evening we changed things up a bit. Here is a peek at what we enjoyed. (Warning: it was a school "talent" show. I will spare you much of the pain of the evening. It lasted 2 and one half hours.(!!!)

Piper played guitar and sang. She amazes me. On the way to the school that night she was so nervous. She had practiced and was totally prepared but still felt really scared. Before it started she and I had to take a little walk down the hall and have a pep talk. I gave her my necklace for good luck, wiped away tears, said a prayer and we jumped up and down to feel silly get loose. It all seemed to help. I wish that the microphone was by her guitar too, but this recording will have to do. Also, the recording starts off really rough. Hang tight, it gets better...

Then there was Crayton. He didn't feel it necessary to practice much. I asked him on the way if he was nervous. He was perplexed. "Why would i feel nervous, mom?" I was just thinking that he was about to perform in front of the school and still didn't know what he was going to do exactly. Silly me. The video cut off but before he started he approached the mike and said "y'all ready for this?" Totally made me laugh. I love him and his confidence and funny sense of humor. I would never have ever [in my life!] had the you-know-whats to do an impromptu beat box routine.

Lennon did a whole lot of this all night with a cousin and friends. They all crack me up and were, at times,more of a show than the actual show. By the time the show was over she was exhausted and exhilarated. Funny girls...

Crue did a bit of what the rest of us wanted to do all night...

I am so impressed by the kids who are brave enough to get up and share their lights with the world. Kids these days are something else and i am privileged to know and interact with so many. I do love my babies. I am also grateful for friends and family who support my kids in hard ways. 2 1/2 hours at this talent show was one of those hard ways. So, thank you! If you made it through this post and you are not family, give yourself a pat on the back and go get yourself a refreshing beverage and sugared delight. you deserve it!

stop that rhyming and i mean it...

2010-02-25T20:19:00.000-08:00

anybody want a peanut?... (wha?)

so i know you don't want a peanut, but how about 20% off stoneware at pampered chef?

Or better yet, how about something for free...you know you wanna...go here!

Body Language 101

2010-02-18T11:03:00.000-08:00

I don’t know what my deal is. I want to blog. I want to create. I have always struggled with this part of me. I feel like there is an artist full of beautiful ideas, beautiful Art, beautiful Music, beautiful Words, beautiful Expression, just sitting just below the surface of Me. I can’t get it all out. I don’t feel like I am getting ANY of it out. It leaves me feeling frustrated with Me. My potential is bigger than I am being…*sigh.

On a lighter note, I curled my hair today. I am not very good at hair, so this was a leap for me. I asked Ryan his thoughts on the matter. Here’s how the conversation went…

Me: Do you like my hair?

Ryan: mmm…yah. (head moving side to side like he is stretching his neck. Ear to shoulder, ear to shoulder)

Me: Do I look like a transvestite?

Ryan: No. No. (shaking head)

Me: Well, that’s good.

Me: (10 minutes later) So, do you love my hair or like my hair?

Ryan: um…I don’t love it. But I like it (eye squint, raised eyebrow) (signs of forced words).

Me: Do you ever love my hair?

Ryan: Sometimes.

Me: When? When it’s long? Or do you love it short sometimes?

Ryan: um…when it’s long. But I like it sometimes when it’s short.

Me: huh…(slowly nodding/processing the fact that he hasn’t liked my hair for the last seven or so years…)

Ryan: I am not answering any more of your questions. I feel trapped.

Me: mmmm hmmmmm….good thinking. (nod, squint, eyebrow)

Piper is home from school today. She went to the dentist this morning and looks like she had a mini stroke. She needs smoothie and snuggles. We might even sneak a movie. Amelia Earhart. All in the name of education and research. By the way, Piper doesn’t hate my hair either. Doesn’t love it either. “It’s in the middle of like and hate, mom."

Winner Winner Chicken Dinner

2010-01-26T14:07:00.001-08:00

*randomshirst.com

I just won a giveaway. The times i have won contests/giveaways in my life have been few and far between. Although, once when i was in clogging I won a freestyle competition at Lagoon in 1987. I was wearing blue overalls and i clogged my heart out. My parents forked out some extra money for a private instructor that year because i was seriously lacking in the coordination department. Of course they didn't tell me that. i just thought i was special. i think they may have paid the judges off...whatever... i won. That's all that matters. Also, when i was little we were checking out at the grocery store and my sister and i filled out entries for my mom to win a new washing machine. We won that. The joy from winning that washer has carried me through many losses since. Now today i have a new joy to carry me through. And you can read about it for yourself here...I'm so excited!!! And I keep thinking I am going to get an email any minute saying, just kidding. We were mistaken. Sorry. But, fingers crossed, it hasn't happened yet...

Babies. Babies. Babies.

2010-01-25T05:54:00.000-08:00

My friend,Christy, showed me this trailer. I can harldy wait to see it!

**how many of you thought i was announcing a pregnancy? It seems that everyone is expecting that these days. Nope. Just another youtube delight...

Heavenly

2010-01-21T04:26:00.000-08:00

*image taken from fireflyforest.net

R eally coming down!

A bsolutely too excited about this rain to sleep.

I am going to stay in p.j.'s all day. Just like every day but today will feel even cozier.

N "uggle me, mama!" I think there will be a lot of snuggling going on today for Crue Bob and I.

Y doesn't it rain here more often?

D umping!

A perfect day for hot cocoa.

Y earning to keep the kids home from school to cozy down all together. I'll resist that urge. But it will be hard...

Resolute In My Consecrating.

2010-01-18T08:35:00.000-08:00

I bought myself a new calendar this year. It is designed for woman entrepreneurs. While I don’t have a business that I am running or trying to develop, it was formatted in such a way that spoke to me. Since the New Year began I haven’t had the time to pull it out and begin utilizing its features that I knew would support my life changes when I bought it. Over the last several months I have been trying to be more focused in my efforts. I am weak. I have been trying to consecrate [[Consecrate: sanctify, bless, set apart, make holy

1.To declare a place holy

2. To dedicate something to a particular purpose]]

and partnership with my Father in Heaven to make my hard things more meaningful. To make myself more accountable. It’s hard. Even the consecrating. This year my goal is to do it more. To be more resolute [[Resolute: firm, stanch, unyielding, stubborn, unbendable, determined, definite, unwavering, steadfast, tenacious, persevering, purposeful.

1. Possessing determination and purposefulness.]]

I hadn’t taken time to do specific New Year resolutions but last week I found myself filling out my calendar for the week and I had an opportunity to do a little bit of reflecting. It sort of turned out to be my New Year resolution session with myself. I set business goals (which, for me, entail my job as a keeper of this home), financial goals, Education/Personal Growth Goal, Health and Fitness Goals, and Home and Relationship goals. After thinking about these and setting them along with the action steps to take to make them happen, I turned the page and above the calendar for the month was a place to fill in my mission statement for the month.

My mission this month is to do things that are hard for me and consecrate them. Be productive. Push through fatigue. Consecrate! Consecrate! Consecrate!

I am a wife and mother first and foremost. I chose this job and I love it. My mission is to act like I love it. Even when it is hard.

Now, when I set these goals and had these ambitious desires, I was sitting in my car alone. With my thoughts. Piper was in guitar lessons and I decided to sit out and re-group. It felt really good. Her lesson flew by and before I knew it I was back home in the swirly whirlwind of homework, 57 kids running through and around my house, Crue escaping naked in the front yard, phone ringing, and dinner not cooking fast enough. I entered into survival mode. My session of grounding myself back to my purpose was a distant memory and my calendar was, by now, buried under a pile of permission slips, homework assignments and lessons to be prepared. That night when I fell into bed I was exhausted. Crue was up with croup until midnight. At about 2 in the morning I heard a voice.

“You are waking up at 5:00 in the morning to exercise, right?”

“Um…no.”

The voice continued… “You can do hard things.”

“Next week. Promise. I went to bed at midnight. I have 2 kids in my bed right now and one of them has been kicking me in the head and whispering to me for the last 2 hours. I’m tired. I can’t.”

“Consecrate. Consecrate. Consecrate.” The voice said.

My mind immediately flashed to my alone time in the car with my calendar. I knew that heaven was reaching out to me. Me! There, willing to help me.

“You’re right. I will wake up. I can do hard things. Thank you," I told the Voice.

I was humbled. I was tired. I was scared to start this new part of my now. Exercising every day at 5:30 in the morning. From that day forward, waking up at 5:00, which before was physically impossible, has been easy. (Staying awake all day is another story) It’s been a week and a day now. I am grateful that heaven is there when I need it most. My angels attend me, my Father embraces, my Savior compensates, the Spirit whispers comfort. I can do this.

I am excited to consecrate today and see what we can accomplish. I’m not alone in my journey.

Jeffrey R. Holland said: “My concern is that you will face some delays and disappointments at this formative time in your life…And when some of those challenges come you will have the temptation common to us all to say, “This task is too hard. The burden is too heavy. The path is too long.” And so you decide to quit, simply to give up. But in life’s most crucial and telling tasks, my plea is to stick with it, to persevere, to hang in and hang on, and reap your reward. Or to be slightly more scriptural:

“Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great.
“Behold, the Lord requireth the heart and a willing mind; and the willing and obedient shall eat the good of the land of Zion in these last days” (D&C 64:33–34).

Blood, toil, tears, and sweat. The best things are always worth finishing. As long and laborious as the effort may seem, please keep shaping and setting the stones that will make your accomplishment “a grand and imposing spectacle.” Take advantage of every opportunity to learn and grow. Dream dreams and see visions. Work toward their realization. Wait patiently when you have no other choice. Lean on your cart and rest a while, but get up and push again. I testify that God loves each of us and that Jesus of Nazareth, his Only Begotten Son, came to “succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees” (D&C 81:5), bringing a divine form of workers’ compensation to you who keep tugging those modern day handcarts so faithfully onward.”

My legs feel like jello from exercising this morning but it’s time to add to my repertoire of improvements…My goal today is to start my hardest room. Or as it is referred to in our house “The Hell Room.” To purge, organize, and bring to surface in myself blood, toil, tears, and sweat. And to remember The best things are always worth finishing. Right now that room is a grand and imposing spectacle. It makes my stomach hurt every time I walk past its door. But it will come together.

It will just take some consecrating.

ReAL mE

2010-01-16T14:34:00.000-08:00

I have seen a theme post/challenge going around that I like. It is basically about how real do we keep our blogs. The first part of the challenge is to post a picture of yourself on your blog sans makeup. I think I have enough of those...You all would probably love to see a picture of me with make up. I took that part of the challenge to the next level. I put a picture of me at my absolute worst. I believe Ryan declared me the ugliest he had ever seen me when I put on that get up. And believe you me, he has seen me all sorts of ugly.

I have thought about it and I don't think that i could keep it much more real than I do. I suppose I could go so far as to tell you every time I raise my voice at my kids or get bugged at my husband. I suppose that I could tell you when my selfish ways give way to taking the higher road in being a friend, neighbor, sister, daughter, etc...but I usually like to move forward from those times (after i post about them on my blog). I think that anyone who knows me knows that I keep it real and am far from perfect. (read following in snarky tone) In case anyone out there was wondering. (End snark)

Really, I am not squeaky clean. I raise my voice too oft. I am lazy at (most) times. I get overwhelmed easily. I use sarcasm way too much. Sometimes I would rather be doing my own thing than serving others (I know, rotten.) I buy too much crap because it is on clearance. I say crap too much. My husband is probably afraid to call home and tell me he is coming home late most of the time. I don't handle that like a good Christian woman sometimes. Sometimes I hang up on him and when he gets home I get quiet and roll my eyes a lot. Sometimes I talk in bitter tones. Ryan is a saint. Anywho...I have been thinking about what i could post that would make you get it. The real me. I found it the other day reading the Ensign. Warning, when you are done reading, you may think less of me. Here goes nothing...

(Following excerpt taken from the article "I Will Be Found Of You" by Aaron L. West)

"I was reminded of the times when my wife, Emma, and I played hide-and-seek with our young children. When it was our turn to hide and their turn to seek, we always made ourselves easy to find. Sometimes we made noises or left a foot in plain view so they would find us quickly. Sometimes we hid in the same place repeatedly. We wanted the children to search for us, but we also wanted them to find us. We looked forward to their hugs and their joyful, unrestrained giggles of triumph."

Hide-and-seek doesn't usually end that way in our house: unrestrained giggles of triumph. Unless it is by me. I have been known to throw a "boo-ya!!!" to the heavens when I win, accompanied by a flexing of my muscles. It is the same with card games, board games, video games, and games of physical strength (i.e. foot races, head stand contests, and the like). Sometimes I let the kids win at games, but if i am keeping it real, it is usually at my parent's house and it is usually just to avoid their disappointed head shakes, eye rolls, and looks of "what did we do wrong?" I like to think that it is making my kids stronger when I never let them win. At anything. After reading that, maybe it is something I need to work on. I'll begin by not gloating when they lose. Especially with Crue. Probably with Lennon. Crayton and Piper don't know any different. It might confuse them unnecessarily. Okay, I might try it with them too.

So there it is...the real Natalie. Take the challenge. The pit in your stomach before you hit 'publish' will only last for a few minutes...

I Do Not Have a Drinking Problem and I Really Like Beef Brisket

2010-01-07T13:23:00.001-08:00

I don’t know where to begin with this one…I could start with the time I made my 7+ month pregnant friend buy me a big can of beer…or I could start with the time my kids approached me very concerned for my well being (seeing as how I have been drinking and all…). Hmmm…I guess the beginning would be good.

As you know from my ketchup post last year, I am honored to be the recipient of ketchup cleverly gifted each year by Ryan’s brother Wes, and his family. It is one of my favorite things about Christmas because just when I think they can’t out do themselves, they do. And it tickles me. Every single time. This year was no exception. The theme (because there is always a theme) was 'Ketchups of the World'. I received ketchup from 12 different countries. All of them countries I have heard of, but never considered what they might use for their ketchup needs. Being the arrogant American I am, I just assumed that American ketchup is all the world needs for their Mexican food. I was wrong. Two days after Christmas I was eating some left over turkey when it dawned/donned (?if 'donned' is a transitory verb then I nailed it with donned, if not then please use 'dawned'…I should know what a transitory verb is, shouldn’t i?) on me that some foreign ketchup might just hit the spot. I chose Indonesia. It isn’t like the ketchup you are thinking of. It was AMAZING. I love this ketchup more than I can say. It is deliciously sweet with a subtle hint of heat and spice. Like chili sauce, only better. I have tried it on turkey, chimichangas, and in the recipe that I am about to share with you. Which brings me to the beer.

I also received a pressure cooker for Christmas. I think I love it. I was flipping through the recipe book that it came with and saw a recipe for a brisket. It had beer in it but is also had chili sauce and I though it might be the perfect meal for my Indonesian ketchup. I have never cooked a brisket, never used a pressure cooker and never purchased beer. There’s a first for everything. I was tending my friends little girl on Monday when she called me to tell me that she was on her way home. I asked her if she wouldn’t mind stopping at the store to pick up some beer for me. She brought be a big, giant can of lager and a turkey bagel sandwich which was delicious. I put the beer in the fridge and didn’t think anything of it. Later on, the kids came home from school and I went upstairs to finish up getting ready for the Fiesta Bowl. We got last minute tickets so dinner got put on the back burner and I knew the brisket would have to wait until tomorrow. (Assuming, of course, I wasn’t too devastated to function because ‘my team’ didn’t win the game. You know, the team with the orange costumes.) Crayton and Piper came in my bathroom very slowly. Very somber. I asked them what was wrong. Crayton pulled a can of beer from behind his back. He said “would you like to tell us about this?” I immediately started laughing and told him that it was for a recipe that I wanted to try for our ketchup. They both took sighs of relief and Piper said “oh, mom, phew! We thought you had been drinking.” They were so relieved. I wasn’t completely off the hook, they had a few more questions for me. “Will the alcohol cook out?” “Will we get drunk eating beer brisket?” “Will it taste nasty like beer smells?” I knew the answer to the first 2 questions but the last one was one I was wondering about too. Would it taste nasty and beery? I hoped not. Tuesday night (yes, the orange team won. Phew!) I tried it out. The results: Not beery. Delicious in every way! The ketchup was a perfect touch and made the best gravy ever!

Here’s what you do…
In your pressure cooker (and maybe all day in your crock pot):
1- 3-4 lb brisket
12 oz. beer (may I recommend the giant white can of lager?)
½ C. chili sauce (or Indonesian chili ketchup)
1 package of onion soup mix

Cut up some potatoes and carrots and place on and around the brisket

Close your pressure cooker and cook for about 1 hour. Let your pressure cooker depressurize with out helping and then delight your family with one delicious brisket!
(if your brisket is still a little bit tough, take out potatoes and carrots and drain gravy into bowl. Slice the top of the meet and pour gravy back over the brisket and cook for 5-10 more minutes)

I wish I had some pictures of this. I don’t and Crayton broke the ketchup bottle before school and threw it in the trash. The garbage man came early this morning so it is gone forever. I don’t even know what brand it is or where to ever get it again. (Wes, Laura, help!?) I am thinking it will be fun to try a new recipe with foreign ketchup each month. I’ll let you know how it goes. Any votes on or recipe suggestions for my next country?

Poland
Korea
Philippines (referred to on the bottle as banana sauce)
USA
Pakistan
Germany
Costa Rica
Jamaica
Ukraine
Japan

For now, Selamat jalan, Selamat tinggal, Daa daa, Sampai jumpa, Sampai jumpa lagi, Sampai bertemu lagi, Tabé, Tabik.

Goodbye in Indonesian…

Hello Friends. I'm Back.

2010-01-06T10:41:00.000-08:00

I wish that I had something specific jumping to the front of mind causing me to lose sleep until it manifests itself in the form of a new post but I don’t…So, I could a.) go through my pictures from the last several months and explain them, or b.) tell you the best and worst things about the holidays, or c.) just upchuck everything that comes to mind and see what happens…

I vote for c. You?

This break from school and work was exactly what our family needed. Ryan was really, truly off work. Christmas miracle #1. We had a really fun time together with the kids and family and friends. The kids didn’t have a bed time. Christmas miracle (for them) #2. I didn’t even kill any of the kids even though they didn’t have a bed time. Christmas miracle #3.

We changed up our tradition of Christmas Eve pizza by candlelight and chose instead to have Christmas Eve Pick Up Stix by candlelight. House Special chicken. White meat, no onions, extra sauce. Spicy for Ryan. I got their veggie egg rolls and Ryan splurged and got the cream cheese wontons. Delectable. We ate right out of the containers and the kids got candle wax on my favorite table cloth. Crue was naked shortly after meal got underway and fell asleep at the table shortly after that. We all loved it.

Here’s where everything changes and I begin reviewing products: [Have no expectations for this post and you won’t be disappointed (just like watching Napoleon Dynamite)]

Shortly before Christmas I went to Target. I saw on an end cap something that caught my eye. Mrs. Meyers Iowa Pine multi purpose spray and dish soap and hand soap and candles. I bought the spray and the dish soap. When I got home I used the spray and laughed out loud because I was so happy. If everything in my world could smell like that stuff I would be at peace every single moment of my life. And if Iowa really smells like that then I am packing my bags and leaving tomorrow. Not forever but until I find us a cottage to live in on the edge of a piney forest. With a wood burning stove and 6 acres of meadows and pine trees. Ahhhh…

Mrs. Meyers products: 2 very enthusiastic thumbs up!

Since I am reviewing products, why not movies?

Ryan and I don’t see movies very often. This break was the exception to that. We saw the following:

The Proposal- Very funny. Picturesque. The subtle humor in the movie was my favorite part. Their facial expressions and body language said so much and I loved it.
After the movie was over and the credits were rolling the humor continued. I love it when movies do that.

The Proposal: Two thumbs up.

The Princess and the Frog: We had no expectations for this movie. And good things come to those who have no expectations. Ahem… I loved it and thought the music was really fun. The characters were loveable and defined, as should be expected by a production from the Disney empire. The only complaint was that the movie was rated G. There are some really dark parts in the movie that I don’t think were truly for the ‘general audience’. Lennon and Crue are now scared to be upstairs when I am downstairs. They talk about bad guys and are still (well over a week later) very unsettled. I wish I would have known to expect that and do some shielding (or in other words Parental Guiding). The big kids loved it though.

The Princess and the Frog: I’d give that one 2 thumbs up but covering my little one’s eyes.

My Sister’s Keeper- I read this book and had heard that the ending was totally different from the book. It was. They left out a lot of details from the book, so that was a little bit of a bummer. The book is by no means a feel good book. And the movie stayed true to that aspect. I cried a lot. Heaven help everyone if anything like that should ever happen to my kids. It was too much. On a lighter note, I wish that when I felt like a ragged, overworked mom I looked frazzled like Cameron Diaz. She has stringy hair, little make up and still looks hot. Why? How? Is Hollywood trying to make me feel ugly?

My sister’s Keeper- 2 sideways thumbs.

Blind Side- LOVED this movie. I laughed, I cried, I almost peed my pants. Not really, but what is that from? I did laugh and cry. When I saw the previews, I didn’t want to see it too badly because Sandra Bullock’s character seemed a little cheesy. I was wrong. She did a great job playing the character that she was playing and I loved her. Tim Mcgraw did great. He was charming and I loved his character. The story is so great and you will leave this movie feeling good inside.

Blind Side: 2 very enthusiastic thumbs up!

500 Days of Summer- um…it had it’s moments of charm. They were brief. This movie can be compared to Utah in February. Gloomy, blech, and downer-ish, with moments of spring like conditions. There was something about this movie I liked (besides the music, because I did like that) but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It felt long. Like 500 days long. But strangely when it ended I wished that it could pick up from that point and maybe continue on being the movie it was meant to be to begin with.

500 Days of Summer: 1 thumb down and one thumb almost up. (think casual hitchhiker)

We also played games. Let’s review…We got Wii Sing It. If you know all the songs I highly recommend this game. There may or may not have been nights when everyone went to bed and I played this game by myself. I have NEVER done karaoke or anything like it. I am terrified of singing in front of people and performing in any way, shape or form. This game tore down some walls for me to say the least. Crayton may or may not have recorded me tearing down walls. There is evidence and I am not comfortable with that. The down side…I don’t know too many of the songs. Why can’t Wii come up with a singing game with well known songs? Surely it wouldn’t take too much research money or time to put that one together. Come on Wii…really?

Wii Sing It: 1 thumb up, the other wrapped tightly around the microphone. We played Would You Rather. The first time we played it, it was fun. The second time it was boring. The challenge cards can make or break the game. And at times, they can be a little bit confusing.

The great thing about this game is that Crayton and Piper could play it with us, which is great. They had fun and when my kids are having fun, so am I. (If it is a scheduled time for the kids and I to be having fun together…, otherwise it means no one is listening to me when I am barking orders and that’s not fun.)

Would You Rather: two double jointed banana shaped thumbs.

Finally (don’t be too disappointed that this boring post is about to end), we played Who What Where. I first heard about this game here. LOVE this game. It was really fun. I think that Crayton could probably play this game, Pipes? I don’t know…We played with a group of 8. It was about the right size to play with I think. It was a really fun party game that I highly recommend.

Who What Where: Who? Me. What? Giving this game two thumbs way up! Where? Sitting at the computer in my pajamas.
Feeling very happy to back to blogging:).Well, come back soon. Next I’ll be talking ketchup. Just when you thought things couldn’t get any more exciting…

what are YOU thankful for?

2009-11-22T20:36:00.000-08:00

I loved this when I saw it. It made me grateful to be human. I love people so much and this is why.

Today, to kick off gratitude week, pray tell, what are you thankful for?

If I Had Known...

2009-11-19T21:48:00.000-08:00

Piper and Crayton are too heavy for me to carry from the car anymore. It used to be that the Sunday night routine was that we would get home and each of us would carry a sleeping pair of kids from the car one by one. It felt like it took forever to carry them in, tuck them in, get them a drink, and help them into their pajamas. We wouldn’t dream of waking them gently and sending them to their rooms. They were so sleepy. So little. Now, even though I still hate waking them up there isn’t another option. They are too big. What really bothers me though is this; I can’t remember the last time I carried them in from the car or picked them up when they were crying or just needed a love. I wish it wouldn’t have happened gradually. I wish I would have known that the last time I carried Piper to her bed from the car was the last time. I think I would have savored it a little bit longer. I wish that the last time I thought to myself “you’re getting too big for this baby boy” as I struggled with each step to get Crayton safely to bed, I would have known that I meant it and it was the last. I think that if I had known that the last time that one of them was having a hard time and they needed a special hug; the kind when I pick them up and they lay their head on my shoulder and I sway back and forth and kiss their sweet little heads and cheeks, if I had known that those would end I would have done them more. I certainly would have made sure that they were swayed a little longer and that I squeezed a little harder and that I would have whispered one more ‘I love you.’ They still get a million whispered ‘I love you’s. They still get special hugs and kisses on their heads and cheeks; but it isn’t off the ground anymore. Now they have to stay planted so that they don’t lose their footing in this life. I can’t stand on the ground for them anymore. And sway them to peace. I know that I still have my role as their safe place but they can’t feel weightless in my arms anymore. They’re too big.

The last time I was in Utah I was talking to my uncle Gary. He said something to me that I will never forget. We were talking while lots of kids played noisily around our feet. One of them was his granddaughter, a few of them friends, a couple of cousins, and the rest were mine. He stopped our conversation and said “you know, Nat, this is what it’s all about”, as he nodded towards the chaos at our feet. “I have been to some pretty cool places. I’ve seen some really cool things. I’ve done some really cool stuff, but this, right here, is what it is all about.” He told me that we spend so much time when they are little trying to prove ourselves in this world and make a life for them that we forget to slow down and take in the chaos at our feet. He’s right. And I do wish that I would have known that the last time I carried them in from the car was the last, but I do know this: the chaos that is always at my feet is something to be treasured. Someday I am going to look back and think to myself, ‘I wish I would have known that that would be the last time there was chaos at my feet.’ I hope that when it happens I feel satisfied that I breathed it in at least once every day. That I did take the time to savor it. I know myself too well to say that the chaos at my feet won’t bother me sometimes. It will, inevitably, drive me crazy sometimes. Sometimes I will shout ‘I’m in my room! I’m taking a mommy minute! If anyone so much as looks at that door knob I am going to scream my head off!” But I hope that when that happens they will know that I love them more than words. That I would stop everything to give them a hug. That even though I can’t pick them up anymore, I really want to. Because I really do. I really would. I may not have known that the last snuggle in from the car was the last but I am grateful that I do know that this is what it’s all about. The chaos at my feet.

And The Best Supporting Actress in a Drama goes to...

2009-11-11T16:10:00.000-08:00

Me.

(Not Kate Winslet, but didn't she win the award multiple times before ever being appreciated for the talented actress she was? It's symbolic.)

I wrote an acceptance speech, trying to find humor in this situation, but it turned into something I swore would never be on this blog: a husband bash. So I deleted it. So instead I will say that sometimes being the supportive role in the play is really, really underrated and under appreciated.

On a lighter note, I got to go to the dentist today and be praised multiple times for being such a great patient. It was the highlight of my day. My week. Four injections, moderate jaw pain and nearly $300 later I walked out of there feeling like a million bucks. Compliments, great conversation (until the shots kicked in and I began to drool and feel like my nose was running), a comfortable chair to lay down in, and someone to suction my saliva. And then It was back to reality. Oh well...it was good while it lasted. Maybe I'll go back next week. I have a filling that could be re-done...

Alright, my sweet escape to blog land must come to an end. It’s 5:20 and dinner hasn’t even crossed my mind and from the sound of things from downstairs my kids just may have killed each other while I have been writing this (10 minutes). I had better go see who is left standing. Whoever it is, is in charge of dishes tonight.

She's Just At That Age

2009-11-08T09:59:00.000-08:00

I know that it may seem that all of my posts are Lennon inspired. She is not my favorite child. I love them all the same. Crayton and Piper still say funny things. They are beginning to have opinions about being featured on this blog, and so it is, I refrain from posting them very often. For my journal recording purposes I have to document the following funnies about Lennon and Crue.

While getting ready for her Halloween party at school:

Lennon: Being a cheater-leader is really fun mama. But what I really wish that I could be for Halloween is an abomination.

Mom: Oh! What is an abomination, Bops?

Lennon: I don't know. But it sounds like it would be a really fun costume.

Mom: Maybe next year.

Last Sunday While Driving To Aunt 'Lorla's':

Lennon: Oh! I love hims so much and just want to marry him! (said with longing)

Mom: Who?

Lennon: Shadders.

Mom: Oh, maybe when you are 27.

15 minutes later :

Lennon: Oh! My heart is burning with love and passion!

Mom: (Snapping out of her zone where she hears nothing but her own thoughts while she is driving even though it sounds like there are 53 kids in the back seat.) What did you just say?

Lennon: I said that my heart is burning with love and passion.

Mom: Um...why did you say that?

Lennon: Because it is. For Shadders.

Mom: (offers up this silent prayer). Please, I beg of You, let her channel her burning love and passions in a positive and productive ways. Please bless that they are in no way, shape or form, related to boys until she is done with college. Please bless that sometime in the near future the Mormon church begins a 'nun in training' program. I know that it doesn't exactly jive with the teachings but, Father, just this once? Amen.

Now on To Crue:

Nap time has been special lately. Crue has taken to fighting his naps. Bedtime also. He has also decided that the risk of injury is not as risky as falling asleep and therefore takes flying leaps out of his bed daily. Last week he fought and fought and fought to stay out of bed. I thought he was asleep and began putting away laundry in my closet. When I looked down and saw the poutiest little face i have ever seen.

Mom: What are you doing out of your bed? It's nap time, buddy, and you should be asleep.

Crue: I am too sad to take a nap. My fadda (father) died. (Bigger pouty lip)

Mom: Your father died?

Crue: Ya... my fadda died and my tummy is hungee (hungry) for dinna (dinner) and so i need a hot gog (dog). Really bad.

Mom: Okay. That is funny enough that you can stay up from your nap. You win.

Later That Night:

Crayton was assigned the task of showering Crue before bed. (Crue could shower 15 times a day and still always look like he doesn't have a home and is forced to make his way in this life by dumpster diving. We try.)

Crue: Bubba, I can't take a show-a (shower). My fadda passed away and i'm too sad.

(Pouty lip, head hung low, which is even cuter when he is dressed up like a little cupid.)

I was a little worried when he kept on talking about his father dying. Ryan was out of town, with no cell phone service. I am happy to report that our 24 day separation from one another is over. I couldn't be happier. Once he shaved, I loved him even more. I didn't think it was possible.

Cole Boy, Coco, Buddy

2009-11-07T20:58:00.000-08:00

Happy Birthday!!!

To the best brother i have ever had, who truly understands the unique set of challenges that triangular nostrils present.

Hope your birthday was the best. I love you buddy!

The Harwards: Part Two. (and if you'll notice my follow through)

2009-11-06T22:14:00.000-08:00

Then there is Kristen. Kristen has always held a very special spot in Brandi’s heart, really in everyone’s heart but I remember thinking when I was younger that I wished Brandi would be as nice to me as she was to Kristen. Kristen is the little engine that could, can, will and does. She is the baby of eight. She is a little unsteady in her speech and on her feet. Almost every time I ever saw Kristen when we were younger she had a cut or scrape or scar of some kind or another from another accident. She never stopped or slowed down though. She could hold her own in a disagreement and was fiercely protected by her siblings, when she wasn’t being fiercely teased by them. Kristen got the easy crier gene and is tender to her core. Kristen is awe inspiring in and of herself just for the way she lives her life. She has been for as long as I have known her, and I’m sure even longer. Kristen has defied odds and is making it all on her own with a hubby and two babies in tow. On my list of things that will make me happiest in the millennial world is the thought of Kristen with her body whole, unscarred, and able to effortlessly and gracefully do all that she can’t do on this earth without a great deal of effort and compromise. It will be a beautiful thing. When I think of her I see a dignified woman now, full of strength. I know now why Brandi was nicer to her than to me. She deserved it more than most. Finally on my influential sibling list (and the one I intended to tell you about) comes Amy. Amy was my sister’s age. A LOT older than me. (Not really, but it seemed that way when we were younger) Brandi was not a happy camper in Arizona. She wanted to be back in Utah. Amy was a good friend to my sister and loved her for exactly who she was. With Amy, Brandi was silly and funny. They went on cool dates with cool guys and wore cool clothes from Gap. Amy was beyond highly intelligent. She was my intellectual all-star role model. She was fiery, confident, tall, naturally beautiful, and brutally honest. All of these factors lead up to one conclusion for me: intimidating. Awe inspiringly intimidating. Amy graduated from high school and went away to school. I remember Amy’s milestones well. Her wedding invitation arrived in the mail. I was excited for her and based on what her mom said, she had herself quite a catch. I wondered if he could tame her. Not change her but soften her abrupt ways. I remember next a family Christmas letter and photo of Amy and Damon and their little baby. Amy was now a mother. I remember sitting in the family room staring at that picture and feeling really overwhelmed when I looked at her hands. I know it sounds weird, but she was changed. It was her hands. They were now a mother’s hands and it suited her beautifully. I thought a lot about why that mattered to me so much. I don’t remember up to that point caring about any one else’s hands except mine because I thought they were manly, and Christ’s, for obvious reasons. From that year on, I have looked forward to going over to my mom’s house around Christmas time and reading Amy’s clever Christmas letters archiving what they were up to that year.

Then one day when Amy left a comment on my blog. I didn’t even have to wait until Christmas to peek in and see her life. I admit I was excited. But again, intimidated because my intellectual all-star, and self proclaimed super speller, was reading my blog. The blog where I once spelled ‘bowl’ ‘bowel’. My blog, where the rules of punctuation are my own, and my grammar is subjective. Whatever that means.

Shortly after I started reading her blog I realized quickly that she had set a goal for herself to blog every single day. Every. Single. Day. No. Matter. What. She was in the hospital for surgery. Still blogging. Pregnant and very sick. Still blogging. On family vacation. Still blogging. I began then to wonder what it was about her that made it so that she had the stick-to-itiveness that I can only dream of. I began to be further inspired by her. I could tell from reading her blog that she was still Amy. Softened, yet confident. Sarcastic, yet sensitive. Bold, yet buxom. (Just kidding. I was just seeing if you were paying attention and alliteration seemed appropriate. She’s not buxom.) Amy was still Amy. Amy was still amazing. It caused me much contemplation about why I hesitate to say some of the things I really feel. Like deep down feel. On her blog she has been completely open about her longing for her family to be closer. She has been open to admit that she gets cranky because being a mother of many, herself, is hard sometimes. I have questioned my lessons I learned with Brooke all those many years ago. Where I learned I had talents. Some worth sharing. Where I admitted that fact, if only to myself. Amy can still say things exactly as she sees them and Amy still has friends. Could that happen to me? Could I start that? And if I did, could I relinquish the fear of being judged for my openness? Could I uplift? Could I inspire? I’m still wondering. I know that Amy can do it though.

A few weeks ago, Amy was happily awaiting the arrival of her baby boy to be born in December. She was gearing up for her scrap booking convention. She was wrapping up her Christmas shopping, and starting to feel the drain and excitement of the third trimester. Then Amy’s world changed. I will let her tell the rest of her story.

While Amy’s world has changed and her story has deepened, I realize that Amy hasn’t changed. The core of her is still the same. Strong. Admirable. Enduring. Happy. Honest. Real. Really, really real. I have had many days of wondering what I would do if I were in her situation. I really don’t know. What I do know is that I would like to conduct myself with such grace, honesty, dignity, and love as she has. Not just in times of crisis. I don’t think that Amy just started this habit of being amazing. She just is. She always has been. She always will be. It’s who she is. She is honoring that. I am grateful because it makes me see that I can do it too. Maybe never with her boldness. But I can be stronger. I can be better. I can be a better Blogger. I can be a better mom. I can be a more loving wife. I can be a more consistent example of truth. In even the hardest of situations.

It has been said “the loveliest women ever known had a glow of health, a warm personality, a love of learning, stability of character, and integrity. If we may add the sweet and gentle Spirit of the Lord carried by such a woman, then this describes the loveliness of women in any age or time…” That says it all. That is Amy.

I’m glad she was friends with my sister. I’m glad that she reads my blog. I am glad that I get to peek in on her daily and be strengthened by her example. I am praying for your continued peace, Amy.

The Harwards: Part One

2009-11-05T20:47:00.000-08:00

When I moved to Arizona from Utah I was 11 or 12. We moved into a ward that was probably one of the most amazing forces of good that Heavenly Father had on earth in
1989. In that ward there was a family. The mom was a cookbook writer, crafter, dynamic teacher, easy crier, great conversationalist, young women’s president, wife, and mother to many. One of my favorite memories of her is a funny one. She was driving me somewhere. They had a beater of a car. The vibration in the back seat was like a pedicure chair on steroids. It turned out to be quite the massage. The volume in that little car was comparable to a jet. While driving down a busy street, the steering wheel came off in her hands. Right off. I was terrified. She wasn't even phased. She calmly put it back on as if it was no big deal. The other passengers in the car were also unaffected by the fact that we almost died. That still makes me laugh and I would love to know what ever happened to that little maroon car. My very favorite memory of her, though, was at girl’s camp. I was only 12 or 13 at the time. We had just finished testimony meeting. I saw her standing under a pine tree and longed to hug her with all of my might. And so I did. She in turn, held me with all of a mother’s love. In that moment, I loved her so much that it hurt. Probably because she served me with such selflessness. That is still one of my favorite hugs I have ever received.

This mother of many had children that have also influenced my life. I will touch on a few of them in no particular order. Matt was my Sunday school teacher. He entertained and maybe even appreciated my curiosity. With him, it felt more comfortable to ask all of the questions I have ever wanted to ask about doctrine than it has ever felt before. I looked forward all week to him teaching me. I knew that it was a privilege to have him teach me for a season and I soaked it up until he got married and moved on. Inspiring teacher.

Next came Pepper. Pepper was my friend. He was obnoxious, like most teenage boys are (but more-so). But he was my friend through thick and thin. I was shy and backward, he was not. I always wondered what kept him reaching out to me for friendship because I was slow to open up and when I did, it was fairly short lived. Silliness wasn’t my strong suit. It was his. I was much too serious for my own good. He had a hollow chest cavity and would fill it with cereal and milk. Built in bowl. He had the worst singing voice you could ever imagine, yet he belted out ANYTHING the karaoke machine threw his way, especially Garth Brooks, Callin’ Baton Rouge. He spent hours entertaining our entire family. He was a good friend. In large part, because of him always being willing to include me, I have so many great experiences and fond memories of adolescence.

Then there was Brooke. She was a little bit younger than me. She was a lot like her mom; A great conversationalist, talent oozing from her being, easy crier and devoted friend. Brooke could sing, cook, and sew. She was smart, cute and ever the little sister to her obnoxious, spot light stealing brother whom I just mentioned. One of my most stand-out memories of Brooke turned into a life lesson for me. I was in the hall in the church. It was a mutual night and we had just wrapped up an activity. Brooke was talking to Amye Godfrey. I don’t remember exactly what they were talking when I joined the conversation, but I remember that I paid Brooke a compliment. I believe it went something like this: “Brooke, you are amazing. You are so talented. I wish that I had a tiny portion of your talents.”

Brooke replied: “You are talented. You do a really good job on your make up.”

The only problem was that I didn’t wear any make up besides mascara. I wanted to cry. Not because Brooke hurt my feelings but because I wanted to be more than that. I wanted to be a girl that had real talent: The kind that could yield an outstanding vocal performance, a beautiful meal, or a work of art in any medium, on command. One that could win the game, lead the debate or play the lead. Those talents were not me. I was not those talents. Fantastic mascara application was not on my list of desired skills and abilities. After that conversation, I had an epiphany. I don’t remember how it came or where or when but I do know that I gained an acceptance that my talents are different. I am gifted with the talent of being kind. I am gifted with the ability to be peaceful. I have the talent of seeing and creating beauty where beauty was not to be seen in people and in spaces. I came to the realization after that conversation that while I would love to have obvious talent, I am not void of unique talents. They are different than most conventional talents but they are mine, and I’ll take them. It has been a continuous effort to be at ease with the talents I have and continue to develop. But I often think back to that time with Brooke when a simple conversation in the hall helped me learn to be okay with me.

P.S. I have since learned that excellent mascara application is a gift as well. Brooke was right all along.

*My brain has shut down from exhaustion, so this post is going to be two parts. come back tomorrow to meet the final two inspiring siblings (including the only one i originally sat down to write about) (i have a problem staying on task) (and also finishing what i start) (i think i am on the brink of a break through and that could all change tomorrow). The lessons that i have learned from her this year are life changing.

This post is so lame i am embarrassed to push publish post...

2009-10-29T20:44:00.001-07:00

***photo taken from fox.com***
I have some profound things rolling around in this mind of mine. Unfortunately they leave me feeling a little too wide open to share. And maybe use of the word ‘profound’ should be reserved for the great thinkers of our time like ‘Lil C and Mia Michaels. So instead I will share with you some of the Halloween 2009 joys thus far.

Last weekend was our trunk or treat. I have been apart from my husband for quite some time now and he was home for this blessed event. Before he came home I expressed to him my loathing for Halloween and he called me a Grinch, a Halloween Grinch. After getting home and having been away from our many (many, many) children his senses were a little edgy. His children’s normal ways seemed a little intensified to him. Due to my ample time with them, their ways seemed intensified to me as well. That evening, he ‘helped’ get them ready (he told them to get their shoes on, to get in the car, and he lovingly placed the crock pot full of the chili that I had made in the car). On the way there he said “wow, I get it now. I hate Halloween too.” We bonded in that moment. Halloween joy #1. He gets it. Halloween is a lot of work. So much work that Lennon didn’t even have shoes at the trunk or treat.

Rewind to earlier that day…I was shopping at Wal-Mart with Lennon and Crue. I was gathering last minute costumes and supplies. They were both seated in the big part of the cart. They were laughing and playing together. Crue decided that he wanted to be funny and lick Lennon on the arm. She freaked out. “Mom! He’s licking me. It’s ‘scusting!” I replied “Lennon, where do you think that Crue learned that licking people is funny?” Then she said “Oh, me. Okay Crue, you can lick me. That’s funny.” And so he did. And so they continued to laugh and laugh and laugh. Then because they were laughing so hard, Crue needed to use the facilities. Wal-Mart facilities. Halloween Joy #2.

Speaking of #2…That brings me to Halloween joy #3. That evening at the trunk or treat, Crue told me that he needed to go potty. It was said with urgency so I heeded and we headed through the parking lot into the restroom. He sat down and did his business. Immediately after he goes these days he freaks out and screams “I’m done! I’m done! I’m done!” and then he bends and grabs my legs to assume the ‘I’m done position.’ I know my role [roll]. That evening was no exception. He insisted that he was done and bent over. I thought that he might not have been quite done but he was so insistent and loud that I figured that he knew what he was talking about. At the exact moment my hand reached in to wipe him, he exploded like a cannon. All over my hand. Then he said “Okay mommy, now I’m done.” Well thank you, son. Happy Halloween. Halloween joy #3, diarrhea on my hand.

Because it doesn’t get any more joyful than that I will spare you the other joys of Halloween. You already know them; hunting for costumes, class parties, dressing up 79 times in one week, baking goodies and/or shopping for baked goods for afore mentioned class parties. And on and on and on. Tomorrow is Friday. Hallelujah!

Before I part, there have been some cute moments today that I want to have down for the record: ***this isn't lennon. it is representation of Lennon in her costume. Lennon's mother is too tired to upload an actual picture of her own child.***

I was getting Lennon ready for her class party this morning. She told me that she was hungry. Specifically, hungry for pizza. Then she was playing with the white triangle on the skirt of her “cheater leader” costume. It was a triangle. Triangle, pizza. Pizza, hungry. She is her mother’s daughter. Every time she looks at the triangle, she gets hungry for pizza.

Today in the store, I was bent down looking on a bottom shelf for something. She came up behind me and hugged me/tried to knock me off balance. I said “Lennon, you can’t do that. Mommy almost fell. Get off of me, please.” Lennon replied “Mom, I am nurturing you. Don’t you love me to nurture you?”

In the next store we were checking out when a very elderly lady stopped to say hello to Crue. She said “Well, hello there.” He smiled the biggest smile and said back “he-yo, pincess” (hello princess). She melted right there in Target. She blushed and everything. He beamed. It was the cutest little thing. One of my favorite Crue moments. My very favorite Crue moment thus far though was on conference Sunday when we were watching conference. He and I were snuggled up in a blanket and he turned to me and put his little hand on my face and said “I yub you mama. So, so much.” Talk about melted. I did. It’s moments like that that sustain me through his pooping on my hand and his doing nothing but crying and throwing fits for about a month now.

I think that about wraps it up for tonight. I have dishes to finish up and an episode of The Office to watch while I fold clothes. And cookies to eat and baked and/or store bought goods to arrange on trays for tomorrows Halloween feasts. Also, I need to find something to serve as a foundation for the cream cheese frosting I made last night. Crackers? A spoon? Cupcakes? So much to do before bed time. A woman's work is never done. I’d better get on it.

Before we part, a quote: It's a quote from Lil C that basically sums me up (except that I am not a young black kid. I am however, a young-ish white Kidd. And also, I am from American Fork, Utah which has been compared historically with South Central L.A.. Christy, pay attention. This one's for you): Anyway, his words really hit home.

"A lot of times people don't understand my words, my lingo, my vernacular, because they think that it's a front. Anybody will tell you around here that's just how I talk. Of course, I'm from the hood, South Central L.A., young black kid. I do know the slang. When it comes to commenting and trying to get people to understand the message, that's the only way I know. I just have a pool of words I just dig in and throw 'em out.
"This is the year of the intelligent black man, of course, you know, with Obama being in office. And what separates him from everybody else is the way in which he speaks. He's so eloquent and the man articulates himself and he's still humble because he still fumbles over his words. He still stutters over his words sometimes, so you know it's not a routine. It's genuine. It's organic. And that's me, I think it's good because I represent that same thing."

Deep.

p.s. i beg of you to leave a comment. this post has me humbled. just tell me it'll be okay. try harder next time. And that you still want to be friends/family. I really need to go to bed.

Handwritten Sentiments

2009-10-11T22:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was a grump. Today I was a grump. Tomorrow? We'll see. I've found myself frustrated with certain disciplinary problems with one of my offspring. The one who sprung mostly from Ryan's spring. My spring wouldn't yield such results (i keep telling myself...). Anyways, in the grumpy, gloomy, majority of the day there were some sunny spots. They came in the form of handwritten sentiments. They made me smile and love my kids. They are fun. They are fun. They are fun. They are fun. (She told herself over and over and over again until she actually believed it.) I love to find things around the house that my kids have written about. Little reminders or stories, the first scratches of learning how to write their names, or just drawings that I want to save because they make me smile. It's such a lovely little snapshot of where they are right now in this very stage of their lives. I know that someday I'm going to miss this and so the sentiments get saved more often than is probably healthy (according to professional purgers and organizers). Here are a couple of today's sentiments. (I can't get my computer to save my scanned files. I'm too tired to figure it out.)

Sentiment #1

Piper has been fasting for the past couple of months. She takes it seriously. I am so impressed with her innate desire to take her testimony and spirituality into her own hands. She isn't flying on any one's coat tails. She wants to feel it all first hand and is doing the work necessary to do so. The rest of us on the other hand...slackers. Her sentiment proves it.

"10-11-09

Today I was the only one who fasted in my family! Crazy, right! So I sat there watching everyone eat there breakfast. At lunch the same thing happened, I sat there watching my family eat lunch. I will not quit because I know that this is the right thing to do." (followed by a smiley face with long eyelashes.)

Sentiment #2

It's fall break. The kids have been telling me for the last few days that they are craving Utah. That they miss their baby Kyan. He isn't even going to know them. That they miss Daysen and wish that they could play with him. That they can barely even remember what aunt Brandi looks like ("I'm serious mom!"). That uncle Jahde may or may not have facial hair. They can't remember. It's getting increasingly dramatic. This morning after I got out of the shower I found this awesome sentiment:

"Dear mom/dad,

We would very much like to go to Utah. If you take us your wildest dreams will come true. What do you want from us? We'll give you anything!

Love,

Crayton Kidd and Piper Kidd

(an active member of the church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints)

Please respond in 10 minutes. Thanks."

Those kids...I love them so much. (She tells herself once. And believes it because they are sleeping over at grandma's tonight.)

Potluck Post

2009-10-03T09:29:00.000-07:00

Who doesn’t love a good potluck luncheon? Okay, I don’t either. I am always brought back to my childhood when I was playing with all of the neighborhood kids and we ran into Schmarla Schmistiansen’s house (name altered so as not to offend because I am sure that the neighbor from my childhood who is probably now like 80 is reading this post. I doubt that she would ever be able to figure out that I put a ‘Schm’ in place of the real letters of her name.) We all had been playing outside and doing kid things [sweaty, stinky, mud pie making, booger smearing things, I’m sure] when we decided to run through the Schmistiansen’s house. I knew that there were always the Schmistiansen’s 30 cats wandering and destroying the neighborhood. My parents resorted to the trick of sprinkling our trash in the cans with Tobassco sauce. Word of its’ efficacy spread through the neighborhood like wildfire. It was the hot topic amongst my mom and her friends. They had to ban together. Who has time to clean up the contents of entire trash cans every morning? Now, as a mom, I can see how annoying that must have been. The Tobassco saucing technique, however, was much more humane than what the Schmorgenson kids did (with permission from their parents) to the cats. It shall remain unmentioned on this blog, because there have been enough psychological studies done in the last 20 years to know that children who did that to animals have most certainly grown up to be mass murdering cannibals. And heaven forbid they are reading my blog right now. Not that they could possibly de-code the “Schm”. It’s way too complex a system, for even the most cryptic minds.

Anyways, back to the running of the kids through the house. We entered. It was my first time in the house. I had been around the house and knew that it was unkempt. But in the house was a whole different story. The cats. For every one of the 30 cats I had seen outside there were four inside holding down the fort. They were EVERYWHERE. I distinctly remember Schmarla making dinner for her brood of many children. Instant potatoes. I had never seen potatoes in a box before. It was so intriguing. One of her daughters suggested I try some, and then a cat jumped off the counter into her waiting arms. Then three other cats stood around the bowl waiting to see if I loved the potatoes as much as they did. I hesitated because it was against the rules to eat at the neighbor’s houses. It was rude. I also hesitated because I was in shock at the number of cats walking on, lying on, purring on and probably somewhere in the house, birthing on every flat surface in the Schmistiansen home. There was cat hair everywhere and I was feeling really funny inside. But the potatoes beckoned and at the lead of two of her children (one of whom had a huge cold sore or Impetigo) and two other neighbor friends, I did it. I did what they did and scooped out a handful of potatoes and partook. And I knew that if that was wrong, I didn’t want to be right. In that moment, I thought that the 12 Schmistiansen children were the luckiest kids on the block. Maybe in all of Utah County. Instant potatoes were my new dream, now come true. We all must have felt that way because before we knew it the giant bowl was empty. The five of us and the three cats all sat there wanting,no,needing more.

And here begins the Schmistiansen correlation with potluck luncheons. Every time I am at a potluck, I can’t help but think of the cats on the counter and wonder if there is a Schmarla hiding among us, serving up her best grub. When, in reality, if I had any idea what was really going on in that kitchen, I’d throw up in my mouth. I can’t help it though, I always fill my plate. And I almost always find a hidden treasure in the spread of colorful food. Like Schmelly Schmoddard’s creamed corn. Heaven. On. Earth.

At the beginning of this post I intended to make a quick reference to potluck luncheons because I was going to present my week to you and I was certain that it would feel like a potluck luncheon. Mostly boring blandness possibly sprinkled with a gem or two. And then I got carried away and told you way more than I intended. It's stories like this one that make me realize why my parents always gave eachother "the look" when I began telling them a wonderful rendition of a simple event. I have tendency to complicate. Anyways, last night I attended a rocking 80’s themed party. I stayed up until 1:00 a.m. and now I feel hung over. As I type, my head is throbbing and my pictures of the week to upload are in Ryan’s car which he has taken to play a quick game of football before General Conference starts. I’m going to skip the recap of my week. Maybe I’ll finish tomorrow. I’ll give you some appe-teasers though (in keeping with the food theme).

Monday, positive affirmations and the affirmations vs. the truth. Tuesday, a text to melt my heart and annoy my husband. Wednesday, urgent care and some stitches. Thursday, a field trip and realization that dads work through pain, just like moms and don’t get enough credit. Friday, the party. Saturday, well I won’t make you wait for today. I’ll leave you with a picture of me in my current state. I don’t know if you’ll be able to tell, but I washed my hair last night after the party and there is still a streak of pink and remnants of too much teasing, in spite of the oil treatment I applied at 12:30 a.m. I washed my face and there is still a trace of hot pink lip liner, and teal eye shadow. It was that good. But now I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. I’m too old for late nighters. Happy Saturday. I’m off to watch conference. And if we’re still on the subject of food, conference is no potluck luncheon. It is a schmorgesborg (no spell check for that one), chuck full of amazing recipes that were made in the cleanest kitchens around! I can’t wait!!!

I'm Like a Bird and I'll Fly Away

2009-09-22T20:53:00.000-07:00

Today on the way to preschool:

Lennon: (very wistfully) Mommy, I wish that I could be a bird.

Me: That would be fun, wouldn't it? You could fly high up in the sky and feel so free and wonderful...

Lennon: Ya, but most-a-ly it would be fun to fly over the top of people and poop on them.

Me: Silence.

The Eyes of My Eyes Are Opened. -E.E. Cummings

2009-09-10T20:46:00.000-07:00

**photo taken from flikr.

Today was a little on the crazy side. The crazy spilled over into the evening and just now stopped because the kids are now in their beds. Goodnight crazy. Until we meet again tomorrow…

Because of the craziness of the day, I found myself needing to physically separate a few of my children. Piper was melting into a heap of wounds, offenses, injustice and tears. {Think Wizard of Oz: Wicked Witch of the West: The Melting Scene}. Crue was resorting to violence because if everyone around you is crying, why not start hitting people? I put a movie on for Crayton and Lennon (a treat on a school night), loaded Piper into the car with the Taylor Swift CD to sooth her soul, and restrained Crue in his car seat. Thank heaven for the five point harness. With Lennon and Crayton forming an alliance and Piper and Crue restrained in the car, I departed to get gas and dinner. It had just rained a beautiful, furious, monsoon rain and everything was sparkly and fresh. Really beautiful. I looked out my window and saw a little rainbow. We all got excited and then I looked to my left and beheld the most gorgeous sky I have ever seen. The clouds were lined with gold and their depth went on forever. And just like a veil, there was an orange misty curtain that blanketed the whole sky. We looked at the sky. Piper said that it looked just how heaven must look and her tears stopped. We started singing along with Taylor. And Crue, harnessed in, became a gem of a child and returned to his inquisitive self and asking every 4.6 seconds if I am a man or a woman. All was well once again. We got dinner and by the time we were driving west to our home, the golden sky had turned an orangey pink. The clouds were still lined in gold, the depth still went on forever but to my disbelief, the perfect sunset from just moments before had outdone itself. It was even more magnificent. To add the splendor of the sky, behind us in the east, there was bright full rainbow that reached from one side of the sky to the other. Piper and I couldn’t decide if we should look east or look west. Both sides were such a gift. Piper declared that Heavenly Father must make skies like that when someone dies or someone is born. They couldn’t be wasted on a plain old day. I had to agree.

Later while we were {mostly} happily eating our feast of Chick-fil-A at our dinner table, this conversation took place.

Piper: Crayton, you should have seen the sky tonight! It was so beautiful. You wouldn’t have believed it.

Mom: Oh, it was so amazing Bubba. I wish you could have seen it. It was so beautiful it almost made me cry.

Piper: Mom, you did cry.

Mom: You saw?

Piper: Yes mom, I saw. You cried.

And you know what? I did. I cried. Because sometimes tears are the only way to tell a loving Father in Heaven that you are grateful for the beauty all around you. And today, {and everyday}, I am.

2009-09-08T15:10:00.000-07:00

Written Monday night:

On the agenda:
This week is shortened due to Labor Day. But I still have high hopes for accomplishing much. I’ve been on a roll lately. I painted my kitchen the day after I canned turkey. Then painted my family room and hung pictures {finally}. Powder room downstairs is semi-decorated. It’s feeling good to get some things done. I have also organized my kitchen almost all the way. YEA!!! It has stuck for almost a month now so I think that my new organizing system may just be the ticket.

Speaking of tickets. Ryan just got served tonight and will now be forced to pay one of his many, many, many photo radar tickets. My feelings about photo radar are bitter and deep. Very deep. So deep that they can’t be written.

Next Day {Tuesday}:
Did I say high hopes last night? I meant un-high hopes. I meant this week I am sans hopes. I am okay with that. Such is life. This morning we got off and running. Several times during the morning craziness I reminded Crayton and Piper that their rooms needed to be cleaned. By cleaned I meant picked up. They were clear on that. Expectations set. No room for misunderstanding. They got ready and left for school after assuring me that their rooms were cleaned. What good kids I have. So obedient.

After they left for school I went into Crayton’s room to put something away and I walked into a pit. This did not meet or exceed my expectations. It was a pathetic excuse for a clean room. I dejectedly walked down the hall to Piper’s room and was a little bit relieved to see that she caught on to what it meant to have a clean room. Sort of. There were some things that definitely didn’t jive with my definition of picked up. Cups on the dresser? Come on. chotskies shoved on the shelf? Yuck. Hamper in the center of the room with dirty clothes draped over and around it? Puh-lease! And this room looked 100 times better than Crayton’s room did! These kids needed some instruction. {For the 500 millionth times}.

It was not on my agenda today to go to the school and pick them up to bring them home to clean their rooms. It was a huge pain in my butt. I could have cleaned their rooms for them but decided against it. I instead checked them out of school and brought their sorry {not sorry in the sense that they felt remorse {yet}, but sorry in the pathetic looking/acting sense} behinds home. They were very unhappy with me for my decision to bring them home just to clean their rooms that were 'perfectly cleaned' just this morning. They argued, they moped, they groaned, they got teary. I assured them that they weren’t in trouble, but have obviously not been properly trained in the way of cleaning a bedroom. I apologized to them for my short comings and promised to teach them patiently what a clean room looks, feels, and smells like. They remained mopey, and teary, and frustrated the duration of our cleaning/ re-training session. I remained calm and patient {I think that earned me a pound of gold leafing for my mansion in heaven} Upon the completion of the training, I realized that they needed to hurry back to school because I needed to pick Lennon up from preschool. {So much for getting anything done that I needed to get done this morning during my “me” time}. Piper told me that her class was eating lunch right now and she would be too late to get any lunch. No problem. I’ll make them peanut butter and honey sandwiches to eat on the way. Problem: moldy bread. We were in a hurry so I wasn’t thinking clearly. Instead of grabbing Clif bars for them or making the sandwich on one of 10,000 hot dog buns left over from Labor Day, I panicked. Told them to just jump in the car and we would figure it out on the way to school. I struggled with the dilemma of undoing all of my teaching and rewarding them with lunch out. But I couldn’t let them starve. Should I run into the grocery store and buy them something like a head of lettuce and a bag of carrots? I don’t want them to think that vegetables are a punishment. Do I drive through McDonald’s and tell them that the food there is made with poorly treated animals and dirty oil and then make them eat it? I don’t want to do that either. Too harsh. And besides, I’m starving and I don’t want a head of lettuce or a bag of carrots or any thing from McDonald’s. I didn’t do anything wrong, why punish myself? And then I saw the sign. “$.99 Per Slice Lunch Special!” My ability to implement proper parenting techniques was completely overtaken by my own state of near starvation. Pizza it was.

We were almost done eating when I decided to really drive the lessons learned home. I asked “so, guys, what did you learn from this today?”

Crayton with his mouth full said “If you don’t clean your room, you get pizza.” Piper rolled her eyes and said “Crayton! That is not what we learned! We learned that a clean room means all flat surfaces clean. That if you ask us to clean our rooms, and they are not cleaned, we will have to come home and clean them and we will miss out on fun things at school.” Then she glared at him and with another bite of pizza he smiled at me and said “Oh, that too.”

Does anyone know of any parenting classes in the area? I’m missing some key elements to this whole mom thing.

Did You Know...?

2009-08-24T22:54:00.000-07:00

Did you know that if your friend's freezer door gets left open and you had filled her freezer with 20 gazillion of these,

then you would spend from sun up to 10:55 p.m. canning turkeys? Well, you would. Since we all know that 20 gazillion isn't really a feasible number of turkeys to can in one day, we will say that you had filled her freezer with 16 turkeys (number of turkeys in picture above and in friend's freezer). It would still take from sun up until 10:55 to finish. Your kitchen would probably look like a bomb had gone off in it. And your whole entire house would reek of turkeys, which smell remarkably similar to diarrhea when prepared in a pressure cooker. (I could insert a life changing analogy here, but I will refrain). Thanksgiving will never be the same. Also, did you know that at 10:55 p.m. you will look like this? Well, you will. (actually much, much, much worse because you burned your chin on a pressure cooker. )(Who does that?)

Also, did you know that if you eat 16 gazillion of these while you can turkeys,

at 10:55 you will feel like this?Well, you will. (Only your butt won't be that perky. )

Did you know that if you do something that has always intimidated you (like canning, say, 16 turkeys?) and that you have therefore never dared to do and it takes you from sun up until 10:55 p.m., you will feel like this?

(*Me feeling Very Proud*)

Well, you will.

A Little Bit of This and a Little Bit of That

2009-07-31T14:10:00.000-07:00

Well, I was just on my downstairs to pick up the copy of the organization book that I am reading. I am confident that it will change my life. So far, every time I read it, however, I get really sleepy, fall asleep, and then wake up feeling like a big, fat, unorganized time waster. But then I heard the computer screaming out to me saying “Type on me! Use me! Please! For something other than reading other people’s blogs and googling questions like ‘can children have melanoma?’, ‘arizona self serve frozen yogurt establishment’ and ‘should I be using “these quotes” or ‘these quotes’?” Anyways, I got distracted and here I am. Story of my life.

I feel like I have so much catching up to do. I’m not going to do it though because I really have some things that I have to get done today like clean out the kid’s school clothes to see what clothes I need to buy tonight, organize the $140.00 worth of school supplies that I purchased at Wal-Mart today. I am not sure that I have ever mentioned on this blog that if I were to die today and end up in hell (not that I am living a hell bound life I hope. This is just for discussion sake.), it would look and smell like Wal-Mart. Also, on the loud speaker, there would be Fox News and I would more than likely be forced to re-take the C++ programming class that I took in college but it would last for eternity and of course, take place in Wal-Mart. That would be my own personal hell. Also throw in a lack of water and McDonald’s as the only eating establishment. Doesn’t that sound terrible? It makes me want to be righteous just thinking about it.

Anyways, I just miss my blog. I miss this outlet. Thought I would stop by and say hello. So, hello.

Things I want to catch up on:
*New York
*Utah
*Cruise
*Trek
*Camping on the beach
*Funnies from the kids
*Inner turmoil turned to peace
*How much I love my husband
*How much I ache to be organized
*How much I hated taking the kids to the dumb dermatologist today

*Piper's great baptism on her birthday

*How we are on our 5th fridge since living in this house. FIFTH.
*How I dyed my eyelashes this summer and how it changed my life. Sounds shallow, no? don't care because it really did.(no exaggeration)
*How I miss running
*How I hate the heat
*How I believe in mankind
*How I hate being tired all the time
*How I know that Heavenly Father loves me and is taking care of me always
*How I hate feeling judged
*How I love our families so so much
*How Piper just cried on her guitar today. Her first teardrop on her guitar…
*How Piper just called to me from the other room ecstatic that she has her ‘first official callus on her finger from playing her guitar!!’
*How Crayton has been enjoying his time at T.A.C.O. T.A.P. club this summer.
*How Crue has his own little sense of humor and has started telling jokes that are mostly about poop. But he laughs and laughs. I love my baby.
*That Crayton’s sugar challenge just might be the death of me *That being impulsive can lead to awkward situations and regret
*That friends are a must
*That time is precious. So, so precious.
*How I love the temple
*That I got together with long lost friends and loved every second of it
*That I really have always wanted a fro and my hair stylist said that she could give me one and should I do it?
*How when we are supposed to be growing it hurts a little bit and then feels really great to look back and see change and refinement. I am looking forward to the look back:).
*That some doves built a nest right outside my front door and that their little bird family has brought me so much joy this summer. Seriously.
*How Ryan just called and said that he is almost home and it is only 2:05 right now. The best news I’ve heard all day.
*How I am going to put on a clean shirt and some chap stick right now just to impress him.

Gotta go…

The Prodical Blogger Comes Back.

2009-07-15T07:56:00.000-07:00

Conversations with Bobby Lou:

Last night I was tucking Lennon into bed. I was in a hurry because Crayton was at basketball practice down the street and I needed to pick him up. She needed to be well on her way to dream land in order for that to happen according to my plans, so I didn’t have time to go through reading a story or tackling the task of waiting for her to be convinced to get on her knees and say her prayers. Knowing that when we are experiencing gratitude we are very close to God, I decided to play the Grateful Game. (I know that it isn’t exactly the same as prayer but when you are in a crunch, it works) I said “Lennon, why don’t we play the grateful game tonight.” Her eyes got big and she giggled and agreed with much excitement. I explained the rules: You have to tell mommy 5 things that you are grateful for as fast as you can. Ready, set (I held up my index finger to signify thing #1), GO!

She giggled and got started:

Lennon: I’m really grateful that Jesus presented me so that I can eat food.

Mommy: (my thoughts exactly) nodded with big agreeing eyes. She beamed.

Lennon: I’m grateful that Laman and what’s that other guys name?

Mommy: Lemuel?

Lennon: Oh, yeah, Lemuel. I’m grateful that Laman and Lemuel didn’t obey their daddy (eyes growing wider) or even Jesus.

Mommy: Okie Dokie. I’d like to expound upon that one but Crayton is going to be done very soon so I resorted to the contemplative nod.

Lennon: I’m grateful that *****, (name removed to protect the innocent) will be nice to me and not be mean to me and talk to me ‘stead of dist ignoring me when I ask her questions. I’m really grateful for that (nodding with quick certainty).

Mommy: That does feel good when our friends are kind and respectful. Good one!

Lennon: I’m grateful that Tyson’s mommy ALWAYS wants me to come to her house. (shakes her head, and smiles the ‘gosh, everyone loves me’ smile and continues)

Mommy: She does love you doesn’t she?

Lennon: Ya, she really does. (again, the ‘everyone loves me’ smile and nod)

Lennon: I’m really grateful that when I say “mommy, can I please have a piece of black licorice?” and you say “No Lennon, you can’t have a piece of black licorice.” That I can go in and say “Daddy can I have a piece of black licorice? And he says “yes, Lennon, you can have a piece of black licorice.” I’m really grateful ‘bout that.

Mommy: (thinking to herself: sounds like mommy and daddy need to have a talk.)

I do love my Lennon Eve. She is precious.

If You Want It Here It Is Come And Get It....

2009-06-13T11:08:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to lie. This week has been hellish. Hellish to the point that since Sunday we have just been laughing every time something breaks because how many things can break in one house in one week? One tiny factor in our hellish week was a little issue (water leaking through the ceiling) with the washing machine. So today, I am anxiously (because laundry has been piling up for about 1 3/4 week now and frankly i am on my last pair of shanties and our whole family has been sharing a towel since last Sunday) awaiting the delivery of our brand new washer and dryer. If anyone is in need of an Amana Commercial Quality Dryer featuring automatic dryness control and seven (count them) seven cycles it's yours. It will be hauled away by the delivery men (is that presumptuous of me? I should say delivery persons, shouldn't i?) at approximately 2:00 p.m. The dryer was born in 1999 and has served us well. It still works fine.

If you'd like a very broken washing machine with a BRAND SPANKING NEW pump installed by the very handsome (but apparently not so handy) Ryan Scott Kidd, it is also yours. You may want to consider the fact that it will flood your house before you take this baby home with you.

Hurry and reply. I have a feeling they are going to fly out of here...

Until Things Settle Down and I Can Do a Real Post...

2009-06-11T19:48:00.000-07:00

Enjoy this. It's a wedding invitation. So creative. So clever. So fun. Also, i want to live in Ohio now. Look at that charming little house and the green grass and big trees. Ahhhhh....

Today At Church.

2009-05-24T23:45:00.000-07:00

Today we were late for church. I mean sit-in-the-foyer-because-it-would-be-dumb-to-go-in-and-find-a-seat-for-the-closing-song kind of late.

We sat down and Crayton ever so reverently started whispering to me. I stopped him short and asked him if he brushed his teeth today. The answer was a timid “no.”

I told him after letting him know what exactly his mouth smelled like that he should go out to the car and get some gum. The really minty kind.

He came back in chewing and Piper piped up saying “No fair. I want gum!” I whispered to her that he only got gum because he didn’t brush his teeth. To which she said, “well, I didn’t brush my teeth either!”

It was right about now that Lennon marched over demanding that the injustice of Crayton getting gum and not her be made morally straight. Immediately. I whispered to her that Crayton only got gum because he hadn’t brushed his teeth today. And to please be quiet, because Lennon has two volumes. Sleeping and really, really loud. It was then that Lennon shouted “well I didn’t brush my teeth either!!!”

Needless to say, we weren’t late to church today because the children were too busy grooming themselves. Goodness gracious.

Auditory Memories Just Might Be My Favorite

2009-05-15T08:10:00.000-07:00

On Saturday night I put clean sheets on my bed. On Monday morning Crue spilled a whole box of crackers in my bed. Monday night I brushed off the big chunks and collapsed into bed. Every night since I have done the same thing. When I am scratched and scraped by the remaining cracker crumbs I remind myself that I forgot to change the sheets again today. Note to self: change sheets tomorrow. Then I drift off to dream singing this song that was a childhood favorite. Music is such a huge part of my childhood memories. It made and makes me happy. And let's face it, who doesn't love Barbara Mandrell?

Also, just so you know, another Barbara Mandrell song is the theme song for my New York post coming soon. Any guesses???

***yea for Greta! she wins the 'hero for the day' prize!!!***

The hurrier I go, the behinder I get

2009-05-14T11:57:00.000-07:00

Remember our anniversary activity? Well, you may or may not have noticed that my inability to remain in a state of structure is causing me some angst. As of late, it has gotten worse. Much worse.

We went to New York. Came home at 11:30 p.m. and left the next morning for Utah. We got home from Utah and started swimming lessons. Swimming lessons consume [consume- to devour, use, burn up, incinerate, expend, destroy, burn to the ground] my whole life. We get the big kids off to school in the morning and rush out for swimming lessons and by the time we get home it is time for lunch and naps and then after naps I barely clean up breakfast and lunch messes before someone is awake or the big kids get home and we start homework and dinner. Top it off with trying to run every night (which I love and am finding very delightful and freeing and exhausting and hard), the father/son campout which turns into mommy{has to make her daughters feel special and indulgent and loved even more than normal}/daughter weekend, speaking in church on Mother’s Day, helping take care of Mother’s Day gifts for every woman in the ward and every other one of my daily tasks and I am left to wonder, when is a girl to blog? Really. When? I know that it can be done because lots of people do it. Like her. Really, 5 kids, one on the way, and still blogging EVERY SINGLE DAY. How Amy, how?!?!

I think it all goes back to my inability to remain in a state of structure. I’m working on it. In the meantime enjoy this picture of Lennon on the way to swimming lessons. She is wearing a beanie with her headband over the top, her swimsuit and (of course!) her snow boots. The hand in front of her face is her newest form of being obstinate [obstinate-stubborn, determined, fixed, unmoved, persistent, tenacious, mulish, headstrong, inflexible, pigheaded, compliant (Antonym)]. Never a dull moment with that one I tell you.

Dear Brandi...

2009-04-25T11:19:00.001-07:00

Dear Brandi,

Just a little something that I thought you should know. This information could possibly help your stay here be a little more pleasant. Today while I was laundering sheets, getting ready for your arrival, this sweet something popped up. Again. This thing has been around for about 3 years now. I have thrown it away countless times, hidden it, and I’m sorry to say, it has a mind of its own and it always comes back. It. Will. Not. Go. Away. So, I just thought that you should know that it doesn’t belong to them:

Or him:

Or me.

It is Ryan’s prized yard sale find. Don’t be afraid. It’s just a little plastic poop. I don’t think it’s funny. I roll my eyes every time that it shows up in my path. But I’m beginning to think that since it won’t go away, I should embrace it. As if changing Crue’s bum 70 times a day and wiping sweet Lennon (after she thought she could tackle it on her own) isn’t enough fecal encountering for me. Well, while you are here, it won’t be enough for you either.

Also, if Lennon asks for her Super Hero shorts, I’ll leave them in her top drawer. I think that about covers it. Watch out for the fake poop. Make sure Lennon has access to her Super Hero Shorts. The rest is a breeze.

See you soon!

Love,

Nat

p.s. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming and doing this for me. I love you!