Never Give Up, Never Surrender

What's a girl to do when nearly three months have gone by and her blog seems to have been completely abandoned? Should she post about how sorry she is for being such a slacker blogger? Not this girl. Should she skip over the last three month's of her family's life and just begin to post from where she is now? Not this girl. Should she spend hours and hours writing post after post, recounting the last 90-some-odd days to people who probably don't care as much as she thinks they do about what she and her family have been doing? No, not this girl.

I know! She should overload her blog with pic's and captions to summarize the super-fun spring/summer she's had with her husband and cute kiddo's. Yeah, that's it.

Though some have commented that I have given up on the blogging world, and others have given up on me, I will not let time passed get the better of me. I will get out of this "no blogging" rut, and I will press on. Get comfy, ya'll. We're going through three months' time in one post.

So, where have we been, you're asking? And what have we been doing???

We've been getting haircuts...






And losing teeth...


And receiving awards at school ...


We've been spending time becoming Honorary Fire Chiefs ...


And hanging out in helicopters at the Fire Dept with grandpa ...





We've been rockin' out on the guitar ...


And rockin' the elementary school play ...



We've been finding fingers ...


And finding toes ...


We've been visiting great grandparents ...


And attending the temple for one seriously amazing sealing ...






We've been swimming here ...




And swimming there ...




We've been dressing up for holidays ...



And taking family photos ...



We've been learning how things work with dad ...



And camping at Father & Sons ...




We spent a rainy day at Lagoon (with no kids!!!) ...


And finally started loving the bumbo ...


To put it mildly, we've been having so much fun, we're just plain worn out ...


And you'll all sleep better tonight now that you know.

I Got Skillz

I am always up for a challenge. Well, almost always. But when my husband wrote this on his blog, it sounded worthwhile to me. I am the queen of dragging out my household chores. So when he suggested avoiding Parkinson's Law by making a list of things to do, assigning each task the time it would take to accomplish it, and then cutting that time in half, I took him up on it.

Today in my home is "Master Bedroom Day." Each area in my home has a cleaning day so that every day there is at least ONE area of the house that is spotless. That way when I'm feeling overwhelmed and, well, messy, I can go to this one room and feel like I have a little control. (Yes, the idea is from flylady. If it weren't for the 500 emails they send you a day, I would say the idea was a brilliant one.)

I began by making my list and assigning each task a time limit...

Make bed - 4 minutes
Pick up clothes in closet - 8 minutes (I'm a disaster inside my closet!)
Bathroom (incl. mirrors, counters, sinks & toilet) - 15 minutes
Vacuum - 8 minutes

I skipped the shower and tub today. I HATE cleaning the shower and tub. I'd choose 50 toilets over cleaning a shower.

Then I crossed off the times and wrote my new time beside each task. Cleaning supplies - check. Vacuum - check. Super Why for the kiddos - check. I headed upstairs to do some cleaning with a vengence. Here's my stats ...

Bed - 3 minutes (not bad)
Closet - 3 minutes (even I was surprised!)
Bathroom - 11 minutes (like I said, I skipped the shower)
But wait, what's that I hear??? Crying? Can't stop now, I'm in the zone! They'll be fine.
Vacuuming - 9 minutes (so I was a tad optimistic, but hey, if you don't take your time vacuuming, why bother?)

Total estimated cleaning time - 35 mintues
Actual cleaning time - 26 minutes

Not too shabby. I saved myself a total of 9 minutes. Hmmm. What to do with an extra 9 minutes?!?! Nap? Shower? Clean something else?

I start to head downstairs and -- grrr. I see that I will spend my 9 minutes scrubbing my entire stair rail that is now covered in tiny pen scribbles. I estimate it will only take me 20 minutes.

Spoonfuls

Yes, it's been a LONG time. Back off, I allow myself three months after having a baby to "get back in the swing of things." I don't know how that three months passed me by without my permission. I have plenty of updates with plenty of pictures, but not for today. Today I want to share a file I found on my computer while putting together our Family Home Evening lesson for tonight. While looking through my "church" folder on the computer, I ran across a file entitled, "Spoonfuls." The title made me curious, since I usually lable my documents so plainly. I did not recognize this title, and was curious to find out what it was. I opened the document and read the following ...

"As a challenge set forth from my Relief Society presidency, I set a goal to read the Book of Mormon in three months’ time to “test out Moroni’s promise.” Like many other Latter-Day Saints, I have read 1st Nephi what seems like hundreds of times. And like so many other Latter-Day Saints, I have finished the Book of Mormon a total of only two times. It seems that somewhere between 2nd Nephi, where the scriptures are compared to the words of Isaiah; Jacob 5, where one single chapter seems to have the same verse 80-some odd times; and trying to finish up the book of Alma, the days get away from me, and I’ve lost my “habit” of daily scripture study.

Like many of you, I can feel the blessings of reading daily from the words of the ancient prophets. I am slower to anger, I feel more love and gratitude for my family, I have a little more patience with my children (but just a little), and I feel closer to my Savior. Somehow, regardless of how much I need it, life just gets in the way, and I get caught up in the race to “get things done.”

Miss Priss is in school now. Each day I need to bring her to Kindergarten immediately following lunch, and pick her up two hours and forty minutes later. Just enough time to either run one errand with my two little ones tagging along, or hurry home hoping that they will both cooperate and take a nap at the same time. I usually choose the latter, hoping to accomplish a few things on my never-ending list of household chores.

DC is old enough for preschool now. Is she really ready? Probably not, we’re still dealing with the potty training issue. If she doesn’t go to preschool, I probably should be setting up something for her to do, at least once a week. If for nothing else, she’s in desperate need of social skills. A playdate could really help with that. And I don’t take the time with her like I did with her older sister, to just sit together and talk, read a few books in the middle of the day, play a game, or look over some alphabet flashcards. Will she be behind in school because of me?

And sweet baby MiniMan is already five months old. He’s not rolling over yet, but that will come on its own; right? Sometimes I feel like he spends too much of his life sitting in a bouncy seat or crying himself to sleep.

And we can’t forget the PTA commitment I signed up for this year. I decided to be on the board so I could be involved in Miss Priss’ schooling. Who was it that told me that secretary was the easiest board position? I can’t remember now, but when I do, I’ll have to thank her for that.

I really need to arrange a carpool so that I don’t have to wake up the little ones EVERY day to pick Miss Priss up from school. Oh, and I can’t forget that Miss Priss starts piano lessons soon. In an effort to cut back on monthly bills, I agreed to give free guitar lessons to my friend’s little boy in exchange for free piano lessons. What day will work best? And what time should we schedule it for? And what will I do with DC and MiniMan during the lessons? I can’t very well teach someone the guitar while nursing or holding a baby. I’ll figure this one out later. Maybe tomorrow I will have some more time to think about it.

And all of a sudden it hits me … all these random thoughts, and not once have I considered the most important person in my life. My husband. We need some time for ourselves, too. Will we be able to plan a date for this weekend? Will we be able to afford it? For heaven’s sake, it costs $50 just to go to a movie, scarf down a cheap fast food meal, and get back to the house to take the babysitter home before we have to fork out another $10. But it’s worth it. We need it.

Without even thinking about the laundry that needs to be done, our weekly meal planning and grocery shopping, the three bathrooms to be cleaned and kitchen floor to be mopped, beds to be made and mirrors and sinks washed, I am completely overwhelmed. I can’t sleep at night simply because my mind won’t let me stop going over my list of things to take care of. I’m not necessarily worried about any of it. I know things will get done … eventually. I know this is a typical life for a stay-at-home-mother. I know, I know, I know.

As I discussed my concerns with my husband one evening, he wisely stated to me, “That is why Heavenly Father lets us do this one child at a time.” And I take a deep breath before trying to fall asleep.

... We are having a typical day today. DC wakes me up earlier than I’d like, but I can’t ignore the fact that she pooped in her pants and it is now coming out the back. I change her and stick her in the bathtub before breakfast. Thank goodness the baby is still sleeping. We go downstairs for a quick breakfast of frozen waffles and milk, and then it’s time for Miss Priss to get in the shower to get ready for her day at school. As I help her learn to shampoo and rinse on her own, the baby wakes up with immediate screams of starvation. I finish my little girls’ hair, then rush into the nursery to discover my soaking wet shirt as the two of us sit down in our rocker for his breakfast. I hope I still have enough to satisfy him."

And that was it. I'm sure I had every intention of actually concluding the tale of my motherhood; and I can only guess that I was going to philosophize on the sheer genious of Heavenly Father's plan for us to take life one day at a time, one challenge at a time. He gives us little spoonfuls daily, and in the end it equals a life. But in the chaos that is my life, this half-written tale was forgotten.

That was written in August of 2007. Things are still as hectic now with four as they were with only three. This stage of life does not pass easily. So for those of you who have commented on what a "supermom" I am, there's the real truth of it. I struggled then as I struggle almost two years later. That is not to say that I am unhappy. I feel truly blessed, and I am incredibly proud of the beautiful family my husband and I have helped to create. I am thankful for the spoonfuls that make up my life as a wife and mother, sister and friend. And I don't regret one minute of it. Well, maybe the poop coming out the back of my daughter's pants. That's never fun to clean up.


P.S. I did not complete the goal of reading the BOM in that three months. It took me two weeks longer than that schedule, but I am proud to say that I have now completed it three times. And as an aside, I have started my fourth reading of it about six more times. Man, how I LOVE 1st Nephi!

GIVEAWAY!!!

My friend Allison just opened up her etsy shop called Cut.Sew.Repeat. She is amazing at the sewing machine and has some super cute stuff for our kids. And the best part ... she's giving away stuff if you comment on her blog. My fav's are the boutique apron and baker's hat and the appliqued onesies. Go check 'em out!

And So It Begins...

Good grief. I thought I had a couple more years before I needed to pull out the heavy artillery and have "THE TALK" with Miss Priss. I was wrong. Beware all you moms of young children out there. If I'm not immune, no one is.

After coming home from the hospital with our new bundle of joy, my bathroom was quickly stocked up with all sorts of extra supplies. You know, the ones we just love to use every month of our girly lives. For me, for about a week or two after having a baby there are no more nice, discreet little packages. Oh, no. I have to use those enormous, horrific woman diapers. Ugghhh. But soon enough those atrocities disappear and I'm left with just a single box of the slightest protection. They're harmless enough looking, so I set them next to the toilet instead of hiding them in a cupboard somewhere.

And then one afternoon while sitting at my vanity trying to make myself presentable, my six-year-old Miss Priss finds herself exploring in my bathroom.

"Mom, what are these?" she asks, holding up a pantyliner.

"Um, those are just for grown up girls. Put it back, please."

"But what do you do with it?"

Crap. Am I seriously going to have to explain this right now??? I've always known this day was coming, but TODAY??? I mean, I've never read a book on what to say, but I've heard all the advice out there about how you're just supposed to keep it simple and answer only the questions they ask. So I'm thinking to myself, ok, don't delve into the depths of the birds and the bees here, lady. Calm down and just answer the question.

"It goes in your pants."

"In your pants? For what? Is it to help hold up your pants or somethin'?"

Grrr. I suppose that would have been a little too easy.

"No. Well, uh, when little girls grow up, their bodies get ready so that when it's time, they can have babies ..."

I went on a little and explained what I felt was appropriate for her. And yes, I used the words 'period' and 'bleed.' I told her how special her little body is, and that being able to have babies is a gift that our Heavenly Father blessed us with.

I didn't get any looks of disgust or confusion, or even the giggles I had expected. She simply accepted the information I gave her, and that was that.

About a week later I was putting some things away in her room. I opened up her desk drawer where she keeps some of her schoolwork and her school supplies. And there I found one of my "supplies." I have no idea if she put it in there before or after our talk, but I promptly removed it and disposed of it. She hardly needs a daily reminder of her future monthly visitor.

Although I feel the explanation I gave went pretty smoothly, I am nowhere near prepared to answer any other questions (like, perhaps, how the baby gets in there in the first place, or what in the world a husband has to do with that). I don't even want to have to repeat this explanation to the next one. So please, if any of you out there find a way for a simple pantiliner to "hold up your pants or somethin'," let me know so that when DC gets curious, that's all I'll have to tell her.

A Baby Story

Waiting three weeks to write down the story of your child's birth is NOT a good idea. Details are fading already. Man, I'm getting old. Things were different this time. We went to the hospital on Wednesday morning instead of the night before, like we've done with all the others. It was nice to get that last night's sleep in my own bed. After we checked in and I changed into that gorgeous hospital gown, we settled in to wait for the nurses to start the induction.

I usually go pretty fast once things get started, so I figured we'd have our new little bundle of joy by early afternoon. They started the pitocin at about 9 am, and contractions started in just minutes. I reminded the nurse that my doctor allows me to get my epidural as soon as I am 3 cm dilated. I told her (nicely) that I was not okay with waiting to get my beloved drugs. I gave a brief background of what happened with my last delivery, and told her I seriously could not live through that again. She assured me everything would be fine. But I was not about to leave that up to her.

I asked who the anesthesiologist was while silently praying it was not the same one I had with Mini Man. I didn't recognize the name, so my nerves calmed a little. Then I checked with the nurse about his schedule for the day. "How many C-sections does he have today? What time are they scheduled? How long does each one take?" I was willing to do whatever it took to get that doctor in my room as early as possible, and MAKE him stay there until I could no longer feel my legs. He had one at noon and one at five. With about 45 minutes for each one, things were looking perfect. That left plenty of time for him to spend some quality time with us.

Things progressed a little slower than usual, but I was at a 3 within a couple of hours. It was getting close to his midday C-section, so I started to get a little worried. And then the nurse came in with some news. Dr. No-pain now had two emergency C-sections along with his two scheduled ones. Crap. I started to panic. The nurse figured he could come in and give me my epidural between his two emergency C-sections and then go to the other ones. That sounded okay to me. He was already doing one and should be out soon. He'd have some time while they were preping the next mom in line. But when the nurse came back in a little while later and told us that we'd missed his break in between, and that he was already in the next C-section, I was about to lose it. I could NOT have another natural childbirth, I was sure of it. I told her to stop the pitocin and do whatever she needed to to slow everything down. I told her we would just wait it out until he was out of that operating room.

For some reason the nurses all found it humorous that I was running my own little schedule of when we should have this baby, and when the anesthesiologist should be here or there. I didn't think it was funny. I was totally serious. So they did what I asked and we waited for a little while until the doctor finally came to my room. The stars must have been aligned against me. Lo and behold, in walked the very same anesthesiologist that I had last time. Yes, the one that put that ginormous needle in and out of my back FOUR TIMES before finding a spot to leave it, only to have it COMPLETELY FAIL!!! I wanted to die. I told him my last epidural didn't work; that the last anesthesiologist tried over and over, but in the end it didn't work. He claimed there was "no space" between my vertebrae. Whatever. I mentioned that I had two very successful epidurals before. I knew there was space, and I told the doctor he HAD to find it. He just reassured me that everything would be fine; that it would work this time, and that I had nothing to worry about. And I prayed that he had gotten better at his job in the last two years.

After one shot, the needle was in and I was lying back in my bed waiting. I told him not to go, to just wait until I could feel it kicking in. And he did. It only took a couple of minutes and I could feel my legs getting very heavy. I was suddenly very happy and calm and peaceful. And the doctor had my blessing to go to his next surgery. When he finished with that one, he even came back again to check on me and make sure it was working. I thanked him politely, and never told him that HE was the one who failed me last time.

So there I was, no feeling in my legs, drugs fully kicked in, and in and out of sleep as the contractions rolled on. And soon it was time. My doctor had come, the nurses were preping the room, and I started feeling some pressure. I told them that I could feel the baby coming and that I thought I needed to push. The doctor took one look and said, "Yep! There he is!" Two pushes later I was holding what seemed to me the biggest baby ever. I was so used to teeny tiny infants that when they announced our little man was 6 pounds 13 ounces and 20 inches long, I just laughed. "He's SO BIG!!!" He didn't look a thing like the other three, but he was absolutely beautiful and completely perfect. Lots of dark hair, pink skin, puffy face. I was in love ... again.

I wasn't the only one in love ...

We came home on Saturday to a house full of sick kids. For about two weeks Miss Priss, DC and Mini Man weren't allowed to hold the baby, kiss the baby, touch the baby, or breathe on the baby. I did everything I could to keep them away from him. And it was nothing short of cruel and unusual punishment, if you ask them. But they all love him to death, especially big brother.


Although he was a little unsure of him in the hospital ...

He warmed up after a minute or two ...

Despite all my efforts, he still got sick. Earlier this week he started coughing just like the rest of them. It's a little nerve wracking listening to such a little guy struggle with such a big cough. Poor thing. He's been coughing and choking and gasping for air. So I took him back to the doctor on Friday for fear of the dreaded RSV virus. He's in the beginning stages of it, so we're supposed to keep him close to home for another couple weeks. If he ends up with a fever we'll have to take him back to the hospital for breathing treatments.

Cole was our biggest baby by over a pound and almost 3 inches! He's nursing like a champ, and to date has already gained almost two pounds!!! Miss Priss didn't weigh this much until she was 3 or 4 months old!!! I'm finally over the swelling and out of maternity clothes. All is well in Zion.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

My grandma used to say that every single time we pulled up in the driveway when we returned home from being out. Every so often someone in my family quotes her, and it makes us all smile. I miss her. Even her grumpy face.

Bringing a new baby home always makes me think of those who have passed on, those who are no longer here to meet this sweet little fresh angel face that we all get to enjoy. I'm sure they knew each other, though, before he was mine. I like to imagine him moments before his birth, surrounded by all the people we know and love, and especially with the Savior, sending him off and wishing him good luck, telling him they'll be watching and guarding, and that they'll see him again soon. (I know, it's kinda Saturday's Warrior-ish, but I still like to think about it.)

But we made it home on Friday evening, after our beautiful new baby boy was born on Wednesday, Janurary 7th at 5:03 pm. Journaling of his birth story will come soon. For now, I'm just trying to enjoy these first days when he's still so new, before it's gone forever. I'm trying to not worry about the house or that my hair is a mess or that I still fit into nothing except those wretched maternity pants. (I always swell up even more after the birth. Go figure.)

Thanks to everyone for all the phone calls, emails, texts, cards, flowers, gifts, and especially to those who prepared meals and helped with babysitting our other little monkeys while we were in the hospital. You guys rock.

Merry Christmas to All

The girls are at the perfect age for Christmas. EVERYTHING was exciting and received a high-pitched "Oh, my goodness! I can't believe it!" squeal from DC. Yes, even Ariel panties. Miss Priss has renewed faith that Santa really does exist. How else could she have gotten the snowglobe from M&M world that she totally wanted??? And I should have taken the advice of The Man and stuck with just one or two gifts for Mini Man. One dump truck and he was done ... and in heaven. Unfortunately we spent the morning making sure it was all on video, and so I have no still photos. Oops.

Christmas Eve was great. We spent it with my sister's family over at her place. Tons of food, playing games, and the opening new Christmas jammies.


Our story this year was The Legend of the Candy Cane, a gift from some friends of ours. I love all the great Christmas stories out there that give us the simple reminder of what this season is all about. It never fails that by the end of the story I am teary-eyed, the words are hard to read out loud, and the kids are all asking me why I'm crying. But I love looking up at my husband, sister and brother-in-law afterwards to see that I was not the only one who felt the spirit the story brought.


Christmas Day was nice and relaxing. There were new toys to play with, a new Nintendo DS to play and new games to learn, Easy-Bake Oven cooking to do, Star Wars on the wii, Christmas Eve leftovers, and a nap for mommy. Aahh, perfection.



We stayed home to ring in the new year. I'm not much for partying when I have to waddle around through crowds with this huge belly. The kids went to bed early (no one's able to make it to midnight yet), and we watched a movie and fireworks on tv. Nothing exciting, but just what I wanted this year.

And now tomorrow is the big day! We check into the hospital at 8:30, and hopefully our little guy will be here shortly after. Wish us luck, and pray that the drugs are strong.

P.S. We're still not totally settled on a name. Any good suggestions? We need 'em quick!

Three Holidays, One Post

The title says it all ... I'm failing at keeping up with this. I could just skip everything I've missed and start from where we are now, but I won't. I just had to post Halloween pics. I loved their costumes this year.



Miss Priss thought it was the greatest that all the adults actually knew about a girl named Wednesday from an "old movie." She got a kick out of people singing The Adams Family song to her when they would see her. DC just about wore out those Tinkerbell shoes even before trick-or-treating. She thought they were the best. And Mini Man rocked his Jack Jack costume. I was just grateful that he left the mask on long enough for a couple shots.

Thanksgiving was wonderful. We spent time throughout the month talking about all the things we are thankful for, and how we need to have the spirit of Thanksgiving throughout the whole year.

We went down to San Diego for the long weekend to spend the holiday with my parents, who just moved back into their house. My mom was so excited to finally be "home" again, she insisted that we all be there. There were no objections. We all played lots of Guitar Hero World Tour, probably much to the dismay of our neighbors, who I have no doubt heard every song. I don't know what happened to all the guys, but they seriously thought they were rock stars. The Man barely had a voice by morning. It truly was a sight to behold.

And now it's on to Christmas. We've been busy with our family's tradition of an avent calendar (we make a Christmas chain that has an activity printed on the inside of each link so that every day when the kids tear off part of the chain, our family has something to do together that has to do with Christmas). We've made homemade snowflakes to decorate the house, watched Miracle on 34th Street and The Santa Clause, had breakfast with Santa, "gone" Christmas caroling on the phone to relatives, baked Christmas treats, and decorated gingerbread houses with friends (and ate all the leftover frosting).



Before we know it, the year will be over and we will be welcoming a new little angel face into our home. My Christmas present will come on January 7th, 2009. Oh, how I look forward to rolling over in bed without having to grab onto the side of the mattress to turn myself over.

Until then, if you don't expect to see anything new on here, you just might be pleasantly surprised.

For History's Sake

We survived Friday's surgery and actually made it home much earlier than I anticipated. Our little guy had to go in for an outpatient surgery on his ... um ... junk. A few weeks ago we had taken him in to the urologist to check on his circumcision (which I've had concerns about since day 1, and which would be an entirely different post), and discovered that he had "undescended testicles." Apparently before babiy boys are born, their testicles travel down a little tube from their stomach and into their scrotum. Some don't do it before they're born, but most of them do it before they are six months old. Apparently if it doesn't happen on its own by six months, it's not going to happen on its own at all. If left untreated he would most likely be sterile as an adult and have a much higher risk of getting testicular cancer. Even after surgery, his chances of those two things are increased compared to the average male adult, but much less dramatic than if there were no surgery.

I, of course, have been stressing about this for two weeks. (Insert apology here to my husband and friends who have noticed me being on edge for a while. The election results did NOT help my mood, by the way.) I was concerned about the risks of putting my baby under general anesthesia, and I was super worried about the whole recovery process. I HATE to see my babies in pain. And I can't take it if I'm the one causing the pain, even if it's from cleaning the wounds. I know it needs to be done, but it just kills me!

We scheduled the surgery on a Friday so The Man could take just one day off, and then have a couple more to help me take care of him once we were home. After the nightmare of caring for my newborn after his circumcision, I was NOT going to go through that alone again. Again, another story for another day.

So I didn't sleep at all Thursday night in anticipation of the surgery. I woke him up for his last meal right before 5:00 am, and then we started getting everyone ready so we could be at the hospital by 9:30. We dropped the girls off for a fun day and Aunt K's, who lives right by the hospital, and then we left. The Man dropped me off to go sign us in while he parked the car, and when he came in he took Mini Man to start wandering hallways. He passed a young couple who told him that their son just had the same surgery. He figured they were a couple that I knew or had talked to about all this. Once we were inside and he told me what they had said, I was surprised since I had not seen anyone I recognized in the waiting room. We saw them later as they were leaving, but neither of us has any idea who they were or how they knew what we were there for. Weird.

Getting ready to "go under the knife"

Chillin' listening to some tunes

Practicing breathing with Daddy


Anyway, the doctor came out about two hours later and told us the surgery went well and that one of us could go back and wait with him while he was coming out of the anesthesia. Just one of us? That's just cruel. I went back for the first little bit, but when he didn't come out almost an hour later, I came back to the waiting room and grabbed the man, and we both went back to stay with him. I didn't care if they only wanted one person at a time in recovery. And not one person said a single word about us both being there. Mini Man was pretty upset once he finally woke up, so as soon as they told us we could go, we quickly unhooked every monitor and needle, dressed him in some comfy pj's, and left for home. He slept on the way home and for most of the next day. We would wake him every six hours for more medicine, a snack and a diaper change, and he would soon be back to sleep. It was a good idea to keep him on a schedule for the pain meds; I don't think he's felt any pain at all, but it's been hard to see him SO loopy all the time. The first day was the hardest, since he wanted to get up and walk around but was unable to because of the block he was on during surgery. Every time he would stand up, his little legs would just buckle underneath him and he'd fall to the floor. He was SO mad!

The healing is going much better than I had anticipated, and I am thrilled. Today he is off of the major pain meds and just taking Tylenol a couple times a day. What a champ. He is such a sweet little guy. I'm so grateful to everyone who helped us this weekend with babysitting, meals, phone calls, prayers and priesthood blessings. We are surrounded by amazing family, friends, and tons of love. Wish we could repay you all.

Recovering at home

Because It Was Time

I'm home from church today with a sick little one, so I figured this would be a good time for me to change my blog. New background, check. New title, check. New picture header ... still can't figure that one out on my own.

In case you were wondering why I changed my blog title, the real answer is because I never really liked the old one to begin with. When I first started this blog, I sat and sat and sat at the computer, staring at the screen, trying to come up with a title that fit for my family and my life at the time. I felt so much pressure to come up with something good, something clever, just something. I had a husband, two little girls, all the basic neccessities of life, and even some spare time. My life was balanced ... sort of. Like everyone else, I had times when I was totally on my game as a wife and mother, and I had times when I felt like things weren't "just right." Hence the 'sort of.'

But just like the song, the times they are a'changing. Life moves on and we happily accept the new seasons in our family. It's two years later, our fourth child is nine weeks away from joining our home, and my spare time has somehow completely disappeared. I'm grateful we still have all the basic neccessities of life ... and then some.

When I was a little girl, I dreamt of how my life would turn out when I was a "grown up." And truthfully, THIS is pretty much what I had imagined. Well, maybe there was a bit more glamour, a few less pounds, and a lot more shopping. Oh, and my family and friends all lived on the same block.

So I've changed my title to HARMON-Y (pun intended), because to me it doesn't signify a perfect life; it's a range from blissful to downright miserable and everything in between. And we all need that entire spectrum in our lives. We need it for experience. We need it to become better people. We need it so that we can learn and grow and achieve our goals.

And all I can say is that I'm so thankful for this life I've been given, with all of it's ups and downs, joys and sorrows, struggles and triumphs. I truly have everthing. And there's no one I'd rather spend my happily ever after with than my husband and best friend, my very own prince charming, and our beautiful family.

It's not our anniversary or anything, but I chose this picture because this was the day that changed the path of my life forever. And it's a decision I've never regretted.

Yes, blonde. I know, I know -- the things we do for the men we love...

Love Your Guts

We carved pumpkins for FHE on Monday night with my sister's family. Somehow over the course of a year, I always seem to forget what an ordeal it is to wash those slimy seeds. But it's oh, so worth the effort. We all love snacking on them when the carving is all finished.




This year we let the kids draw their own faces on the pumpkins, and then The Man did his best to carve out exactly what they drew. So cute. Miss Priss ended up with heart-shaped cheeks and big eyelashes on hers, and DC drew the funniest shaped mouth. Mini Man was fast asleep in his comfy bed before the carving began, so daddy did his by himself. My favorite was the message Miss Priss wrote on the side of her pumpkin. It said, "I'm sceery." Wish we could have carved that out so it would glow when we lit the candles. We all kept telling each other all night how "sceery" we were. Who needs spelling anyway when we've got phonetics, right?

A Life With Sisters

It's a little bit sad, but mostly funny. It might be a little bit degrading, but not for a few more years. And above all, it's what you have to expect when you have two older sisters, and you're only a year and a half old....










I wonder if he realizes how lucky he was to get outta there without Sleeping Beauty's dress on.

Proud Momma

It's been a while since we've posted an update on our little man. I was kinda waiting for some momentous occasion so I had something wonderful to say. His progress has been kind of slow these past few months. We constantly work on new skills (mastering the stairs, feeding himself with a spoon or fork, drinking from a big boy cup, using words instead of grunts or screams, etc). And then, of course, we have his daily stretches and exercises. He has to continually work on stretching his muscles (especially the ones in his heel), since it's just so automatic for him to be on his toes. If we never stretched his feet to the floor, that muscle would stay tiny and short until it would become impossible for him to physically put his feet down. Then he would have to have surgery to lengthen it.

Mini Man has finally started his home therapy, where a physical therapist comes to the house to work with him. She is the greatest. She was so friendly right off the bat, and so he was more than happy to "play" with her. She has all these games that the two of them play that are geared toward stretching and loosening up his leg muscles and teaching him to walk. And when she came on Tuesday of last week, my long-awaited momentous occasion occurred. Can I get a drum roll, please?




Mini Man is WALKING!!!! Well, kind of. He took about eight or nine steps with her. Just enough for me to freak out and grab the cameras. And then, of course, it was over. The second he sees those things, he looses focus on ANYTHING else. All he wants is to hold the camera or see the pictures. So I wasn't able to get any footage of his first walk (sob, sob), and my pictures are not that great. But at least it's something.

We will still be visiting a PT in office probably once a month for a while, but I really think he'll be UP and about in no time at all. And I couldn't be more proud.

The Sad Truth

Not too long ago I was informed by The Man that we should no longer eat at McDonald's. No, it's not because we're trying to eat healthier, and it's not because we had a bad experience there or found a bug or a fingernail in our food. It's because we have recently learned that McDonald's ACTIVELY supports gay marriage.

That's right, this family-friendly institution has decided to put it's name and it's money at the forefront of the fight to oppose the sacred institution of marriage. I'm not one to pass along many emails or warnings (at least not before checking snopes), so you can believe me when I tell you that I've done my research. You can do your own, and I encourage you to do so. I also encourage you to spread the word.

I am not motivated by hate, as some of the articles I've read imply. But I whole-heartedly believe that "Marriage between a man and a woman is ordained of God," and that men and women have divine roles in our families.

One person can make a difference. And that difference is made when that one person tells another person, who tells another, until we've all heard. There are many other fast food options that offer similar menus (and not surprisingly better quality), so I ask that we all make the effort to give them a try. I do not intend to stand by and continue to frequent a business that uses my dollars to buy their position on the board of the National Gay and Lesbian Chamber of Commerce.

So Wendy's, Burger King, and especially In-N-Out, here we come!!!

I will now step down from my soapbox. Thank you.