Potty Training 1 year later

Andon just said the funniest thing that I now have to blog. Okay, so I don't HAVE to, I WANT to, cause it's not like I have anything else to do. Picking up the house, getting the kids in jammies, teeth brushed, helping Teaghan make Potatoe Biscuits from Oklahoma for school tomorrow, it's just not as important. I mean really, one has to have priorities. Here's what happened:

Doug and I were looking at flutes for Teaghan on Ebay (Doug's newest obsession- oops HOBBY). Andon comes in to use our bathroom. He's in there for a bit(no.2) and then we hear " Mommy can you wipe me?" I said no, that daddy could do it,(cause that particular item on 'mothers job application' is just not one I relish. And really, Doug's at work all day, he can wipe a butt.) But then daddy said, "no, Andon, you're a big boy. You can wipe yourself." To which there was some whining and then this comment: "But it's too far down there." and then with a whiny voice, "It's too hard!" Daddy replied, "you can do it. You're a big boy." Andon: "I don't want to be a big boy. I want to be a girl."

I don't know what being a girl has to do with not wiping oneself. I suppose he thinks girls are exempt from wiping. Maybe he thinks we've got it easy. But whatever the case, we had a good laugh!

Completely Engrossed

Ever hear of the vampire books? I'm sure you have, you'd have to be living on another planet I suppose to have not. Well, after much tribulation in trying to stay away from those books when everybody raves about them, I caved. Jill plopped the book down in front of me last week and said that I had to read this. I cocked an eyebrow like she was crazy cause there was no way I wanted to. It just didn't seem like something I would get into. So we talked and I discovered that it was the book for book club this month, which I've been wanting to go to for some time now, so I said yes, I'd try it out just so I could say that I hated it. I wanted to be the only one to hate it because EVERYBODY and their cat loves it!

Well, I'm sad to say that I finished the book in one day and called Jill the next morning to see if she had the second! She laughed. I am now about to read the second, thank you Rene, but before I do I have got to get the kids dressed, my kitchen cleaned, teeth brushed, myself showered and dressed so that I don't feel guilty when the book completely absorbs me. Only thing missing is the chocolate, but Jill will probably appreciate not having chocolate fingerprints in her book. Even as I type this I am so anxious to start reading! First I have to drop Andon at Joy School. I wonder where I could take Zak? JUST KIDDDING! He fends for himself fairly nicely. JUST KIDDING!
So I will now add my acclaim to the much heralded vampire series. I suppose that you can write about anything, even vampires, if you're a great writer. The writer's prose is excellent, and you feel like you're really there. The romance between the two main characters is beautiful, yet clean. There's nothing worse than reading a book that you have to skip the next 6 pages because of all the graphic detail, if you know what I mean. I suppose that's just another reason why I like this series. It's clean yet you feel the intimacy between the two. Very good writing!!

"FAST"-idious Genes

Friday, that is...yesterday, we went to a track meet for Teaghan. No, she's not in track, it's just a once a year track meet for 4th through 6th grades among the various schools in the area. They have the options to run the hurdles, the 400m, the mile, the 100m dash, etc. They can choose any and all if they want. Teaghan's team, put together by Kyla, ran the 440m relay. There was the four of them, and if you don't know what the relay is I'll refresh your memory: the one with the baton handoff. Ahh, now you remember. Teaghan was the second runner, and I have to say, we were somewhat surprised how fast she really was. She made up time, even being on the outside lane. She was really booking! All four girls did great, but the other teams were just faster. It was just fun to see them out there with some of the other kids from their school, and they all cheered each other on. Teaghan and her three other friends ran the the 100m, which is just basically a sprint. Teaghan has always been fairly fast, maybe not the fastest in her class, but within the top 5 definitely. However, as she has gotten older, the kids don't really race each other anymore, not like you do when you're 6 and 7, so we weren't really sure how she'd fare in the 100m since we hadn't seen her run in a while. I'll let you watch the video below to find out how she did.

On a side note, having spent 3 hours at the meet yesterday, it got me thinking about how quick I used to be. There was only 1 boy who could beat me in elementary school. His name was Jeremy Griggs. Gosh that boy was fast. It would just kill me that I couldn't beat him, especially when we were usually neck and neck. As I got older, I sort of forgot how fast I was, and really, racing didn't hold a stick next to the plethora of boys in Junior High that I had realized weren't all that icky. I had now officially moved past being a 'child.' (in my mind at least.) Then one day, when I was 16, well maybe 15...or 17, I can't quite remember, my parents and I were talking in the kitchen. I don't remember how the subject came up, but I recall my dad saying how fast he used to be in High School. Now, my dad is 5 foot 8 inches, very broad shouldered and a somewhat stocky fellow, but when he was in High school, he played sports and was in good shape, as you usually are when you're young. He told me of an incident involving another student who thought he could beat my dad. Keep in mind that most of the school knew my dad was fast, but apparently this guy didn't believe it, so he challenges my dad to a race. Dad accepts, and needless to say, Dad wins. "No big shock," says dad. At this point in his narrative the skepticism must have shown on my face because he said to me, "Let's go out to the street right now..you and me, and we'll race." Keep in mind that my dad, at this time, was in his mid 40's and wasn't exactly in the same shape as he was when he was younger. Plus, my dad is ALL torso. He has short legs. I, on the other hand, have long legs, thanks to my mother, and so I thought I had the advantage. In the usual, "I know everything" teenage bliss, I said, "game on!" We exited out the kitchen, went through the garage, and out to the street. I think at this time my mother tried to dissuade me. I thought she just wanted me to spare my father the embarrassment. I was SOOOOO wrong. She wanted to spare ME the embarrassment. We decided on a spot to race too, which was only two houses away, and we ran. I ran my guts out! And then I picked them up and ran some more! And he beat me. That's not even a good adjective. The man annhilated me! He just breezed past me like he was Zeus riding on a cloud.

I have never forgotten this. Even though I was taken down a notch, I couldn't help but admire the man, who at 45, could make a punk 16 year old eat dust. I don't think I was more proud of my dad than at that time.

Needless to say, I'm hoping the gene creeps up into one of my children's double helix. In particular, I think Andon might have inherited Grandpa's DNA. He looks more like my side of the family than Doug's, and I will be thrilled if he inherits Grandpa Lee's quickness. So far, three out of the four kids have exhibited some amount of quickness. Yes, maybe even Zak. Right now I'd say he's the quickest/slipperiest. Since he's a lot like Doug, and Doug ran track in High School, this logic sort of makes sense. So watch Teaghan and find out what place she took.

As you heard, she placed second! She did awesome and she was so proud of herself! She wants to race in Middle School as well, so it'll be interesting to see if she gets even better. Can't wait though! It's such a great feeling when your kids do something well and they feel that sense of achievement. We are so proud of her!

Moral Mirrors

There is no conceivable way that you can be a good mom and be self-centered at the same time. Our kids are our "moral mirrors." (okay, that might be a stretch, but stick with me here.) How does one stay focused on oneself when hearing from ones 4 year old the words that one has said a time or too. (Now I'll break out of the third person.) I was just talking with Elisha today about the words our kids hear us say and then repeat. For example, Andon was asking me to do something, and yes, I admit I did want to sit on my butt a little longer. In my defense, I rarely get to just "butt sit." My butt was grabbing a mere few seconds when he asks me to do something for him. I forget what but I answer, "Just a second."(My standard response. In fact it is such the standard response that I get sighs out of my kids when I use it.) Andon apparently is learning that when he hears the "standard response" he shouldn't like it. It should not be accepted. So he says, "Now mommy." And as an afterthought, cause it usually scores him points, he adds "please?" I said, "Okay. Let me get up and get it." Apparently I was too slow because he adds, "Chop-chop Mommy!" I now know exactly what that sounds like when I say it. So, back to the original premise here: It's hard to take yourself seriously when you have children. If you do, there will be no enjoyment in your life. Besides, this is the stuff that makes life bearable. A good laugh makes everything just a leeeetle bit lighter.

Trauma Drama

I'm writing this post while Zakry sleeps, before the next phone call from Poison Control, and while my comfort food, chocolate sheet cake, is cooking. You're probably thinking "did I read that right? Did she just say Poison Control?" Yup!

Some of you already know, thank you for your phone calls and visit because without you I would right now be thinking I'm the WORST mother in the world. Really though, I still do think that right now. I suppose it's too fresh. But now I need to blog this episode in my life so Zak will know the kindof Trauma Drama he causes his poor mother.

This morning Zak had wanted some fruit snacks and to watch Go Diego Go. I set him up with both and proceeded into my room where the computer is located. I checked my e-mail, bank account, and talked with Melissa on Google Chat. I then had the thought to go check on Zak. Whenever it gets quiet he's usually into or doing something he shouldn't. So I get up and go out to the living room where I see him standing by the couch. As I walk over to him, I see two medicine bottles and my toddler drinking out of the dosage cup. I freak, grab the medicine bottles and realize that he's drank the entire contents of both bottles. Holy Crap! What the.... I wrack my brain trying to figure out how much was in each bottle. One was a benadryl and the other a cold medication. I panic wondering what I should do. My first inclination was to call Doug, which I did, but then realized that really wasn't going to help at this second and so I call 911 who transfers me over to poison control. As I'm on the phone I try to make Zak gag, and as you can imagine he's really not liking that at all and so he clamps his teeth down on my finger. So I give him water hoping to dilute the meds. The poison control guy, Mike (aka my hero) tells me its okay and asks me all these questions. He wanted to know how much Zak weighs and so I'm a madwoman running around trying to find my scale that I just put away yesterday after cleaning my bathroom. But I had no idea what I'd done with it! My brain simply wasn't working. Suffice it to say, Benadryl really isn't that harmful when you weigh 29 pounds and drank half of a bottle. As for the cold medication, that was only a quarter of the bottle. Mike has been calling me every hour and thankfully will continue to do so till Zak wakes up. I have to say though, it is rather nice to have some time to actually get some things done without wondering what he's up to, like blog this ( I know, I'm seriously messed up!) without having to keep one eyeball on him at all times. I'm seriously considering chaining him to the kitchen stove with only a 3 foot radius. That way he can't climb up to the high cupboards and poison himself, or, what he did a month ago, light my toaster on fire. At this point I'm wondering who's going to croak first: me? or him?

Now I'm going to go get my chocolate sheet cake, aka comfort food, out of the oven and devour the whole thing. This trauma is going to cost me 5 pounds, at least.

And what do you know, 'The Poisoned One' just awoke and is fully refreshed after his nap, ready for a new adventure. However his mommy is about to lapse into a coma.

No Secrets in this House!

Doug's birthday is coming up and I got him Guitar Hero III for the Wii. I can write this because it is no surprise to him. I was researching whether to get him GH3 for the Playstation or the Wii, but I didn't know which one he'd want because there were pros and cons for both, so I had to tell him and let him pick which system he wanted it for.
Yesterday I went out and bought it. It's rather long and so I'd left it propped up against the wall in the sack in my room. Andon comes in and asks what it is and I tell him it's a guitar, but it's for daddy for his birthday and not to tell him. I know, he already knew what he was getting, but Doug is known to open his gifts early if he knows they're in the house, and I always cave and let him. This time I want him to wait till it is his actual birthday, so I told Andon to keep it quiet. Who was I kidding. This morning he gets up and the first thing he says to Doug is, "mommy got you a guitar for your birthday." So now Doug knows it's here in the house, and Doug, if you're reading this, don't even ask me to give it to you early. I won't baulk!! And no amount of military tactic will work. Well...maybe jewlery. We'll talk later.

Half- Assedness

Yes people, in reference to the title, some of you may consider that a swear word, I do too, but in this context I am using it as an adjective to describe a state of being. Coleen, you get this, right?
I realize I haven't been posting as religiously as I have been these last couple of months. I think it's because the addictive side of my personality has ebbed and the more practical side has finally kicked in. That's not to say that I don't read all of YOUR blogs, but I just haven't felt inspired lately. It could be a number of things: The first being that I'm just plain tired, the second being that the batteries in my camera died, and the third reason is that when I do something new, I REALLY give it my all till I get burnout. Luckily, I don't feel burned out at this juncture because really this blog is more of my way of journaling than actual entertainment and has been from the very beginning post, but what I'm trying to say is that I am one of those people who do things just a little half assed. Just a little! Although I enjoy blogging too much to give it up, I am trying to discover a happy medium. The other day when I was playing around with some different widgets, I didn't realize that I had spent two and a half hours doing just that! Doug, never the complainer (really!) even commented that perhaps that might be excessive, especially when I had no idea that much time had passed. Is that a problem? I don't see a problem.

So anyway, things have been going systematically as ever. I'm still trying to keep my head above water until my better half is able to contribute again. For those of you who watched conference yesterday, the talk on motherhood was especially good. That whole talk was written for me and I cannot wait to read and re-read it. Ya'll may see some of it in future postings. So for now, until I have something to blog and not all this senseless chit-chat I do, or until I get batteries for my camera, this will have to suffice. But if my children's battery operated toys that they haven't been able to play with for a year is any indication, it may be awhile.

Orange Chicken

Warning! If you like this chicken, disregard this post.
Life as a stay at home mom most days dips into the mundane and the routine, all of which children crave. And really, I've started to see the blessings in the routine of the day because it means nothing disastrous has occurred. A disguised blessing, if you will. I pick up the same toys day after day, I do the same dishes day after day, I wipe the same butt day after day (yes, my 4 year old is still having me do this, and honestly I'd rather not wage that war right now), I help with the same homework, you see where I'm going with this. If you're like me, a "treat" every now and then does wonders for one's morale, especially when so much of what we do goes unappreciated. So today I was running around gathering birthday presents for the birthday parties that my girls are going to tomorrow. To give credit where credit is due, the boys were not all that bad today in Michaels. Knock on wood. I decided to take them to the library but when I got there it didn't open for a half hour. So we hung out. All is going well. Really! So I'm feeling pretty darn happy that the boys are being good and then I start thinking about lunch, because after we had finished with the library it was 12:30. My first thought was to pick up something, but we did that yesterday when we were out, and frankly it's just not that healthy. But I didn't want just a pb&j, I wanted something yummy! Here's how it works for me: I eat when I'm happy, I eat when I'm sad. And no, that does not mean that I'm sad more than I'm happy just cause I'm thin. I know some of you were adding that one up! Rest assured, I love food way to much to give it up. I credit genes and a fast metabolism. Anyway, I'm trying to plan out a lunch menu in my head while getting the boys buckled into the car and I realize that I bought this orange chicken from Costco last week. I love orange chicken! I decide that that's what I'll have for lunch! I'll get the boys a pb&j, cause they love those, and I'll enjoy my orange chicken and not have to share. Anytime I don't have to share puts me on cloud nine. I take the package out of the freezer and I notice that there's two packs! Well, great, I think, I'll be able to save it for another time! Double whammie- the day just keeps getting better!
As I'm putting the chicken on the cookie sheet I realize that it doesn't look as appetizing as I'd like, but whatever, I'm sure it will be good, and besides, I'm still thinking "I don't have to share!" I know that's rotten, but it is such a treat to not have to share EVERYTHING!
The timer goes off, I add the glaze and honestly, it's not looking too bad. It doesn't smell as good as I'd imagined it would smell, but I'm sure it will be good. The boys are tucked away with their sandwiches, juice boxes, and Cheetos (I know, the nutritional value is not real high here, and we probably could have eaten out and had the same amount of calories) and I sat down with my Orange chicken, and took the first bite.
It was not good....(sigh)not good at all. What a disappointment! I really am so sad about the orange chicken! Too much hype I suppose. So I ended up sharing with Teaghan and her friend because they're the only ones who would eat it.
Moral of the story, don't use food as an upper. It can damage ones psyche.


See, it doesn't even look appetizing from the picture, and that's not because I take bad pictures!

One of THOSE days!

Yesterday was one of those days when I would literally give my I-teeth to go back in time 10 years. Well, maybe just 5. Yep you guessesd it: the 5 year mark would be right before Andon and Zak were even thoughts. But even though I wish it today, my life would be empty without them tomorrow. At least the lessons I've learned from them about myself would've been forever missing without the dynamic duo.
Looking back at the mother that I was with the girls, and the mother I am now, I find two distinct differences. Number one, I actually thought I was a good mom, you know, one that had it all under control. And maybe back then I might have, but only because the girls were so much EASIER than the boys. Number two, and this one is hardest to admit because now I have to acknowledge the snob in me, is that since the girls were easier I often looked at other people with whiny kids or ones that threw temper tantrums the whole time in the store and thought, "why is that kid so whiny? Doesn't his mother know how to calm him?" You know the ones. You see the poor mother in the produce section and the kid is throwing a major fit, worthy of an Emmy. Next you see this poor woman in the pasta aisle, same kid, same Emmy fit. Next, the bread aisle.... you see where I'm going with this? Her whole shopping experience that takes at least an hour is filled with cranky child. That's the worst possible situation. But here's what I would think: First I would always have empathy, but the thought that would run a close second would be, "Someone needs to show her how to discipline so that child knows he can't get away with that. He needs to know that he can't talk to his mother that way." Now I know this sounds very pious and all, but in my defense I really did feel bad for her. During this period when my girls were little, they did throw the occasional tantrum in public, but they were easily controlled. Where am I going with this you ask? I'll tell you. Heavenly Father, in all his wonderful wisdom, saw fit to teach me about what compassion REALLY is. Not the kind where you feel sorry for someone but walk on by, but the kind where you stop and try to help out. My boys have taught me this. I am now the mother in the store with not only ONE screaming, whining child, but TWO! TWO!!! I am the one all the other shoppers are trying to avoid. During such times, (and it really is EVERY time I'm in the store with them!) I want to stash the shopping cart and run to Fiji. Yes, if it was possible, I would RUN. I would be running so fast that I would be able to run on top of the water. This is how desperately I want out of the situation. I have now turned into the mother that the other mother with the perfect toddler (which I used to have) is wondering if I'M in need of some parenting classes. At this juncture, a resounding, echoing, YES! would be in order.

Some good has come out of being humbled. I now have REAL LIFE empathy for mom's who battle children in the store, because they're just doing the best they know how to do. It's just a difficult child and some are just harder than others. I no longer walk on by, afraid to intervene. I at least will stop and try to give the child another focus. Usually it's a who's this crazy lady look. But it usually does the trick. But here's hoping that my boys mellow with age, because I don't think I could handle any more hard knock lessons coming my way. One day my kids may receive a postcard from Fiji!

My Epiphany

So I had no internet Saturday and Sunday, and can I just say how absolutely HORRIBLE that was? You know you have a problem when you panic because you can't get on. Okay, maybe I didn't actually panic, but I was definitely annoyed. I couldn't check my blog, and more importantly I couldn't blog stalk. To my utter joy the internet was working this morning, so my world is now at peace.

Now I can tell you of my epiphany of sorts last night. (This is what happens when there is no internet. One actually has to think. I know, the horror.) I don't recall the thought process leading up to my epiphany, but I was in that state between awake and asleep. I was reminiscing and thinking of the things I've accomplished and the things I've yet to do in my life. The way I've always thought about myself has been in two parts: one being me-myself-and I, the woman; the other being as a mom. The two parts, in my mind, never mixed. They were two separate individuals. And I think a part of me has always wanted to put the Woman before the kids, or at least view that part of myself as more important than being a mom. Maybe that's the world's perspective, I don't know. The thing is, I've always put my kids first, but felt slightly guilty for it when really, should I have been focusing more on myself? If I make a better me, that will make me a better mom, right? And that makes some sense, but it's all about balance. Here comes the epiphany moment: I realized that the things I learned and continue to learn as a mother have made me a better woman. The many hats we don everyday for the different needs of our children actually make us into more well rounded individuals. I know that I have more empathy for a mother who is wrestling 4 children in the grocery store all for the sake of getting a couple of items. (See my crazy life story.) I don't see the world in the same view as I did before kids. There is my pre-children life, and my post-children life, and by far the life that I have after kids is far better than the one I had before. Selfishness cannot exist when you have children. You've never felt real, true love till you hold that baby in your arms for the first time. You never knew you could be a stand up comedian till you play with your kids. You didn't know what true sacrifice was till you were asked to give the last cookie to your toddler.(Okay, that might be stretching, but ya'll know what I mean.) Patience is not truly earned until you go through potty training. You don't think your heart could be so full or break so hard until you have kids. You don't realize what a great story teller you are until you're asked to read a book 10 times in a row and you have to embellish the story just to keep your eyes open so that you can read it an 11th time. You don't realize how amazing and wonderful the world really is until you see it for the first time through your child's eyes. Disneyland becomes a grand adventure when you take your children. You cry when your daughter's heart is broken because you feel as if yours just broke too. The things your children go through are the same things you yourself went through, but somehow when it's your child, you feel it much deeper.
Everything changes and you change too. The mundane, sometimes monotonous things we do as mothers actually make us better women. I no longer see my job as a mom as a job, but as a learning experience. Yes, it's still a job in the sense that it is work, but motherhood is not just to be endured till it's over, but lived to its extreme. There is something to be learned in the highs and the lows of everyday life. So if any of you have debated this very dilemma, just remember that the things we learn as mothers actually mold us into becomming better women.
Thanks for letting me wax poetic for a moment. Every now and then I need to write these thoughts down as they come. Thoughts don't come easily you know! Just kidding.

The Main Reason I Blog

You should continue on in this important work of recording the things you do, the things you say, the things you think, to be in accordance with the instructions of the Lord. Your story should be written now while it is fresh and while the true details are available.

Your private journal should record the way you face up to challenges that beset you. Do not suppose life changes so much that your experiences will not be interesting to your posterity. Experiences of work, relations with people, and an awareness of the rightness and wrongness of actions will always be relevant. Your journal, like most others, will tell of problems as old as the world and how you dealt with them.

What could you do better for your children and your children’s children than to record the story of your life, your triumphs over adversity, your recovery after a fall, your progress when all seemed black, your rejoicing when you had finally achieved? Some of what you write may be humdrum dates and places, but there will also be rich passages that will be quoted by your posterity. President Spencer W. Kimball


I realize that a blog is not exactly private, but I hope to be as real as possible. Since I'm not a great journaler (is that a word?) my intention is to use this blog as a journal of sorts, to record the ups and downs of my life and our family life, so that my children will be able to read it and hopefully enjoy it. Maybe, just maybe, they'll be able to catch a glimpse of their mother, not just as their mother, but as a woman just trying to do the best that she knows how to do. (See my Blurb link above.)

Blogging is Good for You

I went to Teaghan's music class today. It was so fun to hear them all play together. She's on first bench now, the third chair in and she's so excited. (She's the one wearing pink.) We think there's a definite talent for music. That being said, we told her that she had to continue with the flute in middle school. She wanted to take art because she views herself as quite the artist, and she is very good, but in middle school she has to pick either art class or music class next year, and since the music teacher at the middle school is supposed to be amazing, we told her she had to stick with the flute. Harsh, I know. But we're her parents and that's our job. She'll thank us later, right?

I know I've said that I wasn't going to blog everyday, but it's turning out to be just that. It's just that I suddenly see all the funny things the kids do, and the not so funny as well, and all of it is good. Blogging has really made me count my blessings and realize that life is full of ups and downs, and that's what makes it great! I'm not too crazy about the mountains per se, but the hills I see in a different light. See, blogging is good for you- it's like eating your Wheaties.

This is a picture of Zak with the potty seat on his head. See, normally I would just say, "ooooh, get that off your head," and then haul him directly into the tub to shampoo his hair. (yes, I am that anal.) But not this time. I took a picture first and then put the potty seat away. He'll come to love that potty seat in July when he turns 3. The magical number 3, for that is when he is getting potty trained. No more diapers! I know you can't hear me, but I am now singing, 'Oh, Happy Day.'


On another note, any guesses as to what this is? I opened the door to let the boys out into the backyard, (well, really it's just a mass of weeds in lieu of grass), and as I glance down I notice something behind the curtains. I leaned in closer to try and figure out what it was.




Yep, it's a pancake. A PANCAKE!! Needless to say the culprit is one of two people. I guess my pest control is working really well because who knows how long those pancakes have been there- and no ants!

In the mind of a 4 year old

When the kids go down for the night, I try to spend some time with each one talking about their day. Of course, with the girls' this works beautifully and for some reason they like to spill their guts during this time. I really do enjoy my nightly visits with them. Somehow the darkness makes it easier to confess any wrongdoing. It's been very enlightening! With the boys' however, it's a different type of spending time. I usually will cradle Zak for a few moments and then give him hugs and kisses and put him down. The great thing with Zak is when he hugs you, it's full body contact. You not only get the arms around the neck but the legs as well. And all gets squeezed. It's quite the experience. As for Andon, we've started to talk. It's no longer just laying by him and holding him. We now have begun discussions- of sort. Last night was one such discussion.
He starts talking to me about Papa, and I am really rather pleased that he still remembers. Earlier that day he had been looking at the funeral pictures we have on the computer. He says to me, "mommy, Papa in heaven?" To which I replied, "Yes." He then says, "Papa with Jesus." I said, "Yes, Papa is with Jesus." "Oh...Papa is in Jesus trunk." (Not a question, a statement. ) I didn't think I heard right, so I repeated what he said. He says, "Yes. Papa is in Jesus trunk." I was truly perplexed and then for some reason the pictures of the funeral that he'd been looking at that day came to mind. He was thinking of the hearse that drove the body to the funeral home after the service as being Jesus car, since Papa was with him in heaven! I tried not to laugh, and explained to him that Jesus didn't have a car and really there are no uses for cars in heaven. (Maybe I'm stretching here.) He seemed satisfied with that answer.
I told Doug afterward and we both had a good laugh, albeit somewhat a bittersweet one. I think Niels would have enjoyed that comment though. Who knows, maybe he's up on my blogging.

Mi Vida Loca

Blogging (is that a word?) seems to be the easiest way to tell everyone what's going on in one showing, vs many phone calls or e-mails. So I'm going to try my hand at this whole 'blog' thing and try to reaquaint myself with technology. I don't want to be one of "THOSE" people who don't know anything about computers, though I fear that I may already be. No more I say!

So here's to technology and the fun that I'm already having as I type this. Who knows, this may even see the light of day. I've entitled this 'my crazy life.' MY crazy life since I'm the one going in a million different directions. Granted Doug 'helps' (did you get that hon?) out but he's at work all day and I suppose deals with a different kind of craziness. I must in his defense say that he is an amazing husband and truly does 'help' out around the house. For those of you wondering why I keep 'help' in quotations I'll explain in a minute. But it really is MY craziness to deal with. I'm even making Doug's lunch in the morning, right along with the girls' school lunch. Love really is shown in the smallest things, and I have to say that Doug really appreciates it. Except on those days he has to eat salad for lunch. To his credit, he never complains, just smiles and says thanks. Big hugs and kisses follow and he's off to work. Then the loca begins!

You mothers know what I'm talking about. Recently I discovered a book I bought years ago titled "All Moms Go to Heaven." So I started reading it. It's hilarious! Dean Hughes wrote it. If you're familiar with literature you'll know his name as he's written many series. Yes, he's an LDS author. I found myself laughing out loud and exclaiming 'yes!' I know exactly how that feels! I'm not the only one who's done this. (Though you know you can't be the only one, it still feels like you are). He's talking about his daughter who is relatting this story to him. So here it is:

".....as she is preparing dinner, she realizes that she doesn't have any cumin, or whatever, and her recipe calls for that whatever she doesn't have. (This is so my cooking experience!!) Well, there's a store not far away. No problem. But the oldest of this mom's kids are not old enough to look after the younger ones for a few minutes, and that means everyone has to go.
That means getting four kids out of the house- finding the shoes, getting them on, strapping the baby into his car seat, and then getting all four buckled up. The boys can do their own seat belts, and Michael can help Katie, and sometimes it works that way- but more often than not, the kids aren't too happy about this little trip, since they just got pulled away from a favorite TV show or video game, and sometimes, little ones get cross with each other, and sometimes a mother tells them to stop it or she'll destroy every electronic device they own. Along with all that, sometimes buckles don't want to work, and sometimes the baby starts to cry.
Just getting children into a car is a major task, and when the mom gets to the store, she has to get everyone out of all those buckles again. Then she hurries into the store, watching all the kids and keeping an eye on the parking lot traffic. She finally makes it inside and now she has to get the baby into a cart and decide how many more of the kids she wants to pile into the thing. By now the older ones are taking off to look at something they want, and Mom is saying, "No, not today. I just need a couple of things and then we're leaving." (I have said that exact very thing!)
About then Mom takes a good look at the kids and realizes they look like those trashy children she used to see in stores- the ones that made her wonder what kind of mothers were raising them. Stuff is smeared on their clothes and faces. Their hair is disheveled. Shoes are untied. Wait! One of them has no shoes. (I wrote Brittnee's name in the margin) When Mom asks him about that, he says, "You didn't tell me to put my shoes on."
These are the moments that kids have a feel for. They have great instincts, and they know that mom is never so vulnerable as when she's in public, or when she's in a hurry and doesn't want a fuss. So they attack....Each child has a technique. At three, a tantrum is a wonderful method. (I wrote Andon's name here.) At seven, a better approach is begging incessantly while whining and accusing ones mother of never buying any of this or that. (Again, Brittnee's name got jotted down.) At nine, it's a negotiation: (guess who's name went here.) "if you'll get this or that, we won't eat it until after dinner." (I experienced this at Target the other day with Teaghan. She won.)
Kids sense the nerve-wracking and embarrassing power of a tantrum; the wearing-down process of incessant begging; the guilt in the argument "you don't bake...." And babies seem to sense that this can be their moment, too- an excellent time to cry. Many a mom has bought Ding Dongs after vowing not to; Gummi Worms, which she hates; or sugar-coated, chocolate-filled cereal, which she believes was created by Satan.
...So anyway, the cumin or the Cocoa Puffs or the powdered sugar donuts or the Match Box race car- and whatever else- gets purchased, and then Mom heads back to the car and the buckling starts over. By the time she gets home, an hour has passed. By then Dad has come home and is wondering what the strange mix is, sitting in a bowl on the kitchen counter- without cumin."

Dean Hughes has just summed up exactly what happens to me on an ongoing basis. Thank you Mr. Hughes!! It feels good to laugh.

Okay, so anyway, I'll put pictures of the kids on as well; maybe even with dirty faces and shoeless feet. Or most true to our life, the boys without pants. Andon and Zak prefer to just wear shirts and undies, or in Zak's case: shirt, diaper, and THEN undies. Quite the cute combo. My baby's growing up! (Is it possible to shout Hallelujah too loudly?) One of my piano student's parents have this thing where they ask each other if my boys had pants on that day when they came to pick up their daughter. It's sort of a joke between the two of them and I think she slipped one day in confessing this to me. Oh well..so my cherubs aren't perfect. But that's just part of my crazy life! And really, who wants to wage a "put your pants on or die" war. I have a feeling I would lose.

Oh, in case you were wondering, the little joke between me and Doug about the word 'help' is simply this: Isn't it interesting that when a woman does housework, it's "cleaning" or whatever; when a man does housework, he's "helping." Thanks Dean for the 10 minute debate that ensued after I quoted you.

web counter