Seriously...

Let me tell you about blessings. I have lots of them. I know this. I like to think that when I pray I express my gratitude for all of these blessings. Occasionally I have heard people in testimony meeting or randomly tell how they prayed for hours thanking Heavenly Father for all of their blessings specificially, Enos like for sure. I have never quite understood this, because in all of my gratitude prayers the record when purposely trying to name each thing is like twenty minutes of just naming stuff.

Well this week I thought of something I have never mentioned, but will mention from now on. It is my voice. I had a sore throat a couple days ago. It went away pretty quickly, but have had laryngitis since. I don't know how you spell that. I can't talk. Really the more air I push out for volume turns to a higher pitch squeek. Plus it just hurts. And now two full days of it has me just annoyed. I can't talk to my kids unless I am like a foot away from them. No calling them to the table or to come in. When my husband calls on the phone during the day he can never hear me, and we give up unless it is super important.

So maybe I am just blind to how many blessings I truly have. Because I have been taking this for granted for 26 years. Who knew. I guess it is covered in the general good health thank you, but from now on I may just mention it specifically as well.

In My Old Age

So I know that I am not old in terms of actual years, but I feel like these past four months or so have taught me so much. I am learning tons of life lessons most people have to wait years to learn. Who knew living with my mother would be so informative. I get to see her regrets and learn from her mistakes as well as my own.

This morning I was talking with the neighbor at the bus stop waiting for the bus. We were talking about the new house, the yard sale next door, how she biked 15 miles yesterday. She is totally a rad girl. I was telling her how I am my heaviest ever. Seriously we can laugh about the "My Gut is Growing", but it is not funny anymore as I tip the scales towards obese. Kind as she is she offers up the adage of you just had a baby. I tell her how I used to go to the gym, currently don't but am still indulging in the caloric filled food I love. She let me know of a cool walk that was two miles to take the kids on (Rockville Rd).

I get the kids breakfast, get them dressed, and wonder if I should really take the walk or let them watch cartoons, while I get some work done (our normal morning routine now days). When I put it like that it seems a no brainer. So I clod them with shoes and socks and off we go. We start walking and Wyatt harrasses me for cutting through the field, which is our neighbor's property. Grandma says not to go past the trees and he is listening to her because she is in charge of this yard.

Honestly, side note here: Wyatt has become the funniest little boy ever. In the past two weeks he has come into his own. He is so sweet and he doesn't try to be funny, but everything he says is so funny. And he smiles this slightly embarrased smile when I laugh at him, like he is just so flattered.

Back to story. So we start our walk and the boys are so slow and picking up every rock along the road and I think this is doing nothing for me in terms of exercise. But I fight the urge to push them ahead thinking that they'll never want to take a walk again if they have to jog to keep up.

And so we wander aimlessly more or less down the road and path we set out on, but with a different goal. Because as I watch the boys I realize this is way more fun than an aerobic walk. We found some deer a man is keeping fenced along with an ostrich. We saw birds and squirrels. We wandered along a stream. And on our way back walking up the same field we originally trespassed on, Wyatt starts chasing butterflies. Issac follows of course.

They are zigzagging across this field trying to keep track of them. They don't realize at first that there are tons and they are losing track of the original and taking off after others until much later. I stand there with the baby strapped to me in the Snugli, back sort of aching because my 7 month soon to be 8 month old Kody is no baby anymore. And I know that right now this is the most important thing I could be doing. The bills can wait, the change of address cards, the flowerbeds, etc...

They might not remember this moment twenty years from now. I would be surprised if I did. But I will remember next time I want to push the kids into my routine how fun doing their routine was. And that just might be enough to let me indulge in doing it their way again. Kids are only young once. I see that my mom misses small children and I am sure that day exists for me too, regardless of how much time I spend with them now, but wouldn't it truly be sad if I didn't because I was too busy for all the fun moments.

So that lesson is one I feel mighty blessed to have been retaught today. The others are:

Sometimes I don't have to have control over everything.

It's okay if we don't have assigned seating at the dinner table.

It's great to let the kids pray when they want to pray instead of a preset order. Even if occasionally it means more than one prayer or tears.

Talking with my kids now may make or break if they want to talk to me later.

A clean house isn't worth anything if no one is enjoying it. (I still want to be clean, let's not be too crazy.)

And last: Yard sales are a cheap source for cute and clean clothes. Or at least in the instance of my neighbor here.

Earth Day and Scare Tactics

So yesterday was Earth Day. Not a holiday I would typically think much about, but great educational tool. And so it was that Bella went to school, learned all about it, and came home excited to share her newfound knowlegde. She started with nice facts about recycling and not littering. Things that we already teach our kids to do. As the day progressed though she pulled out more and more information that they had talked about in school.

At lunch she chastised me about throwing a piece of uneatten bread in the yard. Seriously like a bite of wheat bread leftover from Issac. She told me how the whole world is being used as a garbage can and soon there will be so much garbage we won't be able to breathe because it will be above our heads. A little strange, but hey I get the basic concept.

Then later in the day she got a little more excited with Travis about cutting trees down. How he is bad and that he is killing the Earth. That we need trees to breathe and we shoudn't cut them. He tried to explain that sometimes it's okay, like if the tree is dead. He also went into it being okay to develop land, something questionable by the major public, but since it is how our family makes its living who am I to complain, but he can fight his own battles.

Lastly the day ended with us getting in the car to go to Home Depot and Wal-Mart. Wyatt is bawling hysterically. I ask him what is wrong and he needs Dad. Travis gets in the car and asks him what is up and he through his sobs tells us, that we are all going to die. That the world is one big garbage can, that trees won't keep making us air, and soon we will all die if we don't stop. Having heard this stuff earlier I turn to Bella and say "what did you tell him?" She says, "The truth. I told him all the stuff my teacher told me. Mom it's true. My teacher is right, and I believe her."

She continued to expound upon what her teacher told her after I continued to prod. Now I was fully interested in the details they discussed. It was somewhat horrifying to me to hear all the scare tactics that had been used on five and six year old kids. It was total doom and gloom. Emphasizing how bad things are. They barely covered solutions. Just all the contributors to the problem. Bella also used this oppurtunity to tell me how I couldn't pack her lunch in brown bags.

As you can imagine I allayed Wyatt's fears. He said, "I believe Mom over your teacher Bella." Travis being ever supportive said, "That is probably wise, Wyatt." Bella was still stalwart about her teacher being right. I feel like I care about the environment. By no means am I an activist, but I recylcle, I don't litter, I am not cutting down any rain forests, I am currently using energy friendly lights to save on our natural resources. So why do we celebrate Earth Day, by scaring our kids half to death. Did you guys with school age kids have any similar experiences?

Or is Bella's teacher a flaming libreal, crazy lady. She seemed nice in our parent/teacher conference. Maybe that's her cover. Sarcasm, sarcasm. It is weird though. Warning: The world is coming to an end.

Friday Thru Monday Review and Size Does Matter

So Friday started with the dropoff of a backhoe at our house. Travis worked on a project over the weekend. More about that later, another post perhaps. Also we had a sleepover with one of our nieces. That night after all the kids were in bed asleep I found Travis watching tv in the living room eatting ice cream out of a bowl, but with the ice cream scoop as his spoon. I died laughing, but am not terribly surprised.

Saturday our day was focused around the project. Sunday was good and we attended Jason Moss's homecoming.

Monday got a little more interesting. Bella planned and gave family home evening, which isn't a first, but this time she was so good. So adult like and even answered Wyatt's questions all on her own. Issac came down from his nap ecstatic because he finally had "mastered" a paddle ball toy. Except instead of moving his arm to paddle it, he holds it totally stiff and bounces his entire body to get it going. Hilarious.

Wyatt at dinnertime let me know that "Dinner is so good, I could growl." At which point he did so sending us all off on another fit of laughter. But all this happened after I had one of my bigger moments of mother guilt earlier in the day with Wyatt. He had been being naughty and hitting the other kids. I sent him up to his room. I was on the phone with the insurance company and doing other random things. At a pause I went to check on the kids and found Wyatt missing. I realized he was still up in his room and I had forgot about him leaving him up there for 45 minutes instead of 4. When he came down, there were one or two tears in his eyes and he said "Mom, I thought you were going to leave me up there till I died." I felt terrible. I then explained to him what had happened and he forgave me so easily, which only added to my guilt. He is such a good boy.

Spoiler Alert: Then Monday night brought "The Bachelor". I was so excited, the previews and promos showed one of the girls' mothers hitting on the Bachelor and rubbing his nipple. Truly this would be one of televisions greatest moments. As promised it was. But in a compelling twist, it wasn't Amanda's real mother. She had hired actors to play her parents and be absolutely insane as a joke. It was quite funny, and enough to spare her from last night's elimination.

As an end to our evening I was getting Travis's cereal bowl and spoon and lunch ready for today. And since the Friday night ice cream scoop thing was so ridiculous I decided that with his cereal bowl he needed a ladle instead of a spoon. When he finally noticed, he was laughing pretty hard himself.

All this is dumb I know, but I just love my family and our little moments. And last but not least, this morning Wyatt was going potty after waking up and while getting dressed for the day. Issac was waiting diaperless at the bathroom door for his turn on the potty. Wyatt looked up at me and said, "My thing is bigger than Issac's thing. His is smaller than mine. My thing is bigger, but Dad's is bigger than both of ours, mine and Issac's." So riddle me this, why does a 4 yr. old boy recognize this and already place emphasis on this. Is this a genetic boy trait? Anyway...as you can imagine I tried my hardest to keep a straight face so as not to let on that he had hit a hot topic among adults. My kids kill me; they are so funny.

My Boy and His Balls

Issac is a maniac. Seriously...I love the boy, but he is just so different than Wyatt and Dakota who are so similar in nature - mellow and laid back. Issac is obsessive, and his current obsession is balls. It has lasted for at least three months now, so I figured it was worth noting.

The boy wakes up every morning, picks out a shirt with a ball on it. He is not particular, it can be a basketball, football, soccer ball, baseball, whatever. Once dressed in it he starts his morning search for his ball of choice for the day. Once he has found the ball it is his constant companion even once he is back tucked in his bed for the night.

And heaven forbid the same ball should be his companion two days in a row, no it has to be a new one. And heaven forbid I should actually run out of shirts with balls on them. And he has to wear something else. He will actually get his dirty clothes out of the laundry just to have a ball shirt.

One particular day I wanted him to wear one of those one piece snap outfits. He decided that would be fine, but since it had a bike picture on it instead of a ball, he just put a ball shirt over top. That's my boy.

Anyway...I don't know what this will mean for his future. I get the impression that he will like sports. Everything about his nature tends to lean towards athleticism and he is quite coordinated at two. He throws and kicks like a champ with aim and everything. Now if we could just get him to catch consistently, he may be the next star athlete. Who knows, but it amuses me.

Hands

Ambyr says she loves little feet. She takes amazing pictures of them. And I almost can get behind it, but not quite. For me it is all in the hands. The little ones, big ones, soft ones, callosed ones. And what my kids don't know is that every night after they are asleep when I am finally shutting down the house, lights, and locking doors for me to go to bed, I stop in each of their rooms to hold their hands.

The soft light provided by the night lights give the appropriate hushed atmosphere. My quiet and unmoving children give a gentle lullaby with their heavy, sleepy breathing. And I watch for a moment knowing that they won't be young forever, and that they won't stay still for an even shorter time. And that is when I pick up each hand, examine how it is so small, but growing with each day and month. I see the scrapes from the days playing, I see the leftover dessert on Issac's hands, and other clues to the little lives they lead. I get so hypnotized by their hands. They are so soft and warm. I treasure this moment with them. It is only made better by the fact that once I get in bed, it is the hand of the greatest love of my life whose I fall asleep holding. To all the hands in the world, big, small, callosed, soft, I love to look at you.

Creepy Crawly Things Cont.

Travis claims it looked more like this. I don't care they are all gross, but he says this one is closer and explains his reaction better, because it is scarier.

Creepy Crawly Things and Happy Birthday

First off today is Mom's birthday. Happy Birthday to her and to all of you who know her, call her, it'll make her week easily.

Next an experience I had last night bares repeating for all of you. So last night I am talking on the phone to Elizabeth post American Idol for our own personal critiquing and reviewing and I am sweeping the kitchen floor as we go through this. I feel something tickling my foot, I look down assuming it is dust or dirt and there is a centipede. For those of you who are unfamiliar, look to your right. Eeks. So I ensue in a Mexican jumping bean style of up and down hopping, trying to get it off me. While hopping I had forgotten the phone was wedged between my shoulder and head and thus let loose the grip sending the phone falling, but being who I am I stop momentarily to catch the phone so it doesn't drop. Recovered somewhat I have no shoes, but use the broom to start whacking it to try and kill it. Unsuccessful as you might well imagine, because brooms are sort of soft. It runs under the fridge and I tell Elizabeth I will have to call her back, because I need to go on a bug killing spree.

Travis comes down and says what is going on. I thought for sure there was a mouse or something. Please. A mouse would not illicit that type of response. I tell him what it was, that he needs to get my shoes for me for protection, and that then we need to pull out the refridgerator so I can find this sucker and kill it. As he is coming back into the kitchen with my shoes he starts hopping around like that same bean letting out a few yelps and squeals of his own. I am shouting step on it, since he is boot laden and all. He finally pulls it together enought to step on it and says, "what was that?" to which I reply "a centipede". He says, "They are quick little guys." I know. But I am feeling quite vindicated from my earlier performance in which he teased me, because he has now just done the same thing knowing ahead of time we were on a bug search.

Beautiful

I'm obsessed. This house thing is killing me. If it isn't over one thing then it is over another. I can't seem to get my mind to be quiet. But this past Sunday was one of reflection. I just wanted the silence of thoughts that pop in and pop out without rustling all the other ones. I wanted the eclectic mix of thinking about dinner, then fish, then summer activities, then the weather and so on and so forth as your mind wanders freely with a loose link from one thought to the next.

And fasting has a way of bringing me peace, hunger too, but mostly peace. And I got what I wanted for the most part. Sunday was silent. Especially on the tail of a spiritual experience. Then the week came, fasting ended, and Monday and Tuesday are filled with a battle of keeping my thoughts checked to a muted chatter.

I opened my email to get this one from my brother. It was a perfect way to remember Sunday, two days old, but mainly forgotten. Typically not my thing, but it really is. So here is a link for you all. Remeber to turn off my music.

http://www.eastvalleyproductions.com/blog.cfm?postID=31

The Temple

Tonight, or this afternoon, Travis and I are going to the temple. I am so excited. I love to go to the temple and our monthly trip is a highlight for me and Thursday date nights. This is something we have been doing for three or four years now. In Orem/Provo sometimes I just wanted to go to dinner instead of the temple, a small sacrifice really. But now that I am here, I crave the temple and the reverie, but it is a big sacrifice. Last month I put some thought into it and came up with this. It takes us 7 hours to go to the temple, more than a half tank of gas, and about $70 total, which we are working on cutting back.

Two hours down starting at three in the afternoon and fighting to get there just ahead of all the crazy traffic. Typically just missing the first session and so waiting a half hour to get into the next one. Then two hours in and two more hours home, with a stop at a fast food joint at nine o'clock at night so we don't starve to death. And the whole rigamaroo of changing on the way in and out. The time alone is $35 in babysitting. Then on Travis's 30 mpg car just shy of $20 of gas. Then anywhere between $10-15 for our fast food.

I'll tell you what...that is a sacrifice. Because we all know me and I am stingy with my money. But it is worth it. The time, the travel, the cost. It may not be much going once a month, but it feels good. And it may not be like the stories you read about in the Ensign where they travel twenty plus hours by bus standing up and saving for one trip in their lifetime, but for me it is enough for now. I can't imagine doing it much more. But I can't complain either, because the blessings are immeasurable.

The Croup

So I know it is not really called "the croup" but that is what all old timers seems to call it. Croup is the bane of my existance. Seriously not one, not two, but all three of my boys have seemed to struggle with this ailment. If you don't know what it is go look it up because one day either your child or someone you know will get it.

I had never heard of it till one day in March 2005. Wyatt who was one was really not breathing that well and woke me up in the middle of the night. He was turning purple because of lack of oxygen. This is where my brother in law raced us through the empty streets of Rexburg to the emergency room with the baby in my arms instead of his car seat because I thought truly he may die. Travis was in Utah. Upon arrival I have never seen such prompt attention. People grabbed my baby from me starting treatment with no thought to insurance and names etc... Treatment basically consists of several shots of huge doses of steroids and steroid nebulizer treatments. We then were checked into the hospital to stay overnight, whereupon every hour more steroids were given. Now truly this is a worst case scenario short of death. I am the stupid mother who doesn't want to seem like a baby so I wait longer than I should to address certain problems. But I digress.

Most of the time croup is harmless, scary for sure, but just raspy bad sounding breathing. I have had my fair share of this. I also have had several other experiences involving hospital stays too and why...because I have these midget children with small airways that are easily inflamed. Now I know that I am not a giant by height, but by build I wouldn't consider myself small. On the other hand there is my husband who loves to be described as beefy which is fine but without all his muscles, which are huge and help him in the competition for Mr. Universe along with Arnold, may be described as petite. And so I have these three sons who with every runny nose get coughing like a seal or so it seems.

So last night son number three, Dak, woke me up in the middle of the night. I was sure he was choking on something and I would have to give him the Heimlick, when my sleepy haze receded and I realized he had croup. A mediocre case, one that wouldn't involve any emergency rooms but would surely have me up the rest of the night. It did. And so this morning I am cursing croup and my children's small airways.

Things That Make You Go Hmm.

I don't know how many of you saw Oprah yesterday. Typically I am not a fan of hers, but it happens to be the time I sit down to feed the baby, so if none of the kids are awake from their naps yet, I'll see what she has on. Yesterday it was the first pregnant man or so was their claim. I had seen promos earlier in the week and I just thought it would be something not quite as crazy as it sounded.

Upon tuning in though it was crazy. I am a person who has had four children, yet I couldn't quite wrap my head around this. There was this man Thomas, who used to be a girl, Teresa-I think, who is transgender. Oprah has been doing a lot on this, this year. Anyway was born one sex felt like another on the inside and so therefore changed over. So Thomas got rid of his breasts, but kept that va-jay jay because he knew he wanted his own biological child one day. Took testosterone to grow facial hair, muscles, and a mini pee pee.

His wife helps him to artificially inseminate himself and ergo we have the first pregnant man. Good for me that Mom was gone, because had I watched it with her I know that she would have been commenting left and right. I could only watch and listen. I didn't then nor have I now passed judgement on these people, their whole life situation, or this pregnancy.

Yet today I am still thinking about it and all I can think is life as I know it has changed. Everything I once believed to be "normal" doesn't exist. If I can't count on the biological reprodution of a human to stay constant, I don't know that anything will. Seriously how to do I catergorize this information in my brain, where do I store it?

I am filled with questions that I can't even begin to think of.

Tagged Again.

I have no problem writing seven facts about myself, but I cannot be burdened by so many rules. So here goes. The rules are as follow for all else interested.

7 facts about myself

The Rules
1. Link your tagger and list these rules on your blog
2. List 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

The 7 facts about myself:

1. I didn't really like Chocolate till I married my husband. Not that I hated it, I was just indifferent. Now it is a nice treat sometimes.
2. I hate being wrong. And even worse I hate to apologize when I have been wrong. Sorry Elizabeth. Never Again. Well probably again, but sorry.
3. Sometimes I wish I were black. They have all the good skills: athletics, great voices, and man can they dance.
4. The biggest fight my husband and I ever got in was over a mini tootsie roll.
5. I just bought a jogging stroller at a church auction for charity and turned around and sold it for a profit on Craigslist.
6. When I was younger I wanted 100 children and 20 till I graduated from high school. Just so I could have more than my mom, which is to say I am highly competitive. I have changed my views somewhat.
7. I love my life.

Tagged: Elizabeth, Emma, Candice, Mindee, and Beckie, whoever else can too.

The Girls Next Door

Because of my love of reality tv, I had several friends recommend a show called Girls Next Door. I had heard of it. I have watched it a couple of times never really the whole way through. It just didn't keep my attention. So two nights ago there were a couple on back to back and I decided to give it a try. You know the saying if you're going to do something, do it well or anything worth doing is worth doing well. Whatever I have never been one for nickel and dime phrases. Anyway I decided to commit to this thing and either watch it or never waste a minute more on it again.

So my question is this. What is the deal with Hugh Hefner? Is he gay? Are the girls a cover up? Is he straight and just plain gross? I mean in the show he seems to spend more time with his old married secretary than his "girlfriends". I guess they are like ordered with the one being his primary "love" interest. He touches a lot of butt, makes some comments, but for the most part - he seems like he is playing some weird role or harmless. The kisses on the lips are pecks at best and look pained on both the girls and his part.

I really don't get it. The appeal for the girls or him. And something was said about him and his two prior marriages and a stroke. Is he not all mentally there since the stroke, which was apparently some time ago? Can he even still perform? Someone explain this to me. I am perplexed.