Sixty Toes

Second-hand Princess.

2012-02-09T06:52:00.000-07:00

Our library offers themed kits that they put together filled with books, DVD's, stuffed animals, etc. Part of our weekly library story-time ritual is checking out a kit. There is much melting down on the part of a certain 5 year-old if we "forget" to check out a kit.

Sometimes I choose to "forget" because my hands are already too full of car seats and purses and coats and other library bags. Those kits get heavy. I've escaped the library kit-free only a time or two, it takes some serious distractions to work one over on Annie.

(Another reason I "forget" is because I have a major brain malfunction when it comes to returning things to the library ON TIME. These kits are $1/day if they're late. Pre-tty steep if you ask me. I KNOW from first-hand experience.)

Today was the Princess kit. Why this kit comes with a purple feather boa is beyond me, but to Annie, it certainly enhanced the princess-ness that was HERSELF. She was a library princess all day long: shedding boa, broken crown, bent wand. More like a second-hand princess, but adorable nonetheless:).

Sometimes, I get awfully giddy about the girlishness circulating through our home. It's a delightful contrast to these rough and tumble boys.

If only her wand could work a little magic in my laundry room! I'm hoping this embarrassing disclosure pushes me to tackle the issue. Can you tell I've avoided it for, um, about 3 months? I'm pretty good at pretending something isn't there. Denial. Sometimes we all need a little to get through life:).

A chat in the dark.

2012-02-08T06:48:00.000-07:00

Each night before bed, Ben and Brigham laboriously go through Brigham's math homework. They are both math whizzes. Ben is determined to teach Brigham to s-l-o-w down. He rushes and makes silly mistakes sometimes. In my right-brained opinion, a little too much math can make ANYONE testy. Brigham got a little testy.

When Brigham's upset he becomes self-defeating. This stems from a strong desire to please, not only himself, but us. He's a perfectionist. He's a first-born.

He went upstairs to bed. Sam was crying, so I went up to see if he was okay. Brigham was laying on the couch with his pillow and a blanket. Why anyone would choose a couch over a bed is beyond me? I seized this moment to have a little heart to heart with Brigham, in the dark, nursing Sam. Very non-threatening.

Brigham said there was a kid on the playground who called him "Freckle-face" yesterday (personally, I think freckles are cutie-patootie, but I'm his mom, it doesn't count). Obviously, this was still bothering him, or he would have forgotten about it and moved on. I shared with him a lesson I'm still learning:

Often, when someone is hurting or insecure they put others down, supposing it will make them feel better about themselves. It usually has the opposite effect. And when someone is doing that, then is the time when he/she needs love the most.

This is a hard little lesson for a kid. Loving someone who's mean to you. It's a hard little lesson for adults sometimes, too. This is the stuff of character-building. This is a lesson I think Brigham is mature enough to understand and practice.

We were reading in the Book of Mormon and it said, "Awake, my sons; put on the armor of righteousness." Loving someone when you feel they are least deserving of it is part of wearing that armor. My boys love allusions to armor and battle and fighting evil in the scriptures. It's tough and masculine. It's anything BUT boring. One day, I know they'll see the purpose of those allusions. For now, I'll let them make their manly-grunts during scripture time. Anything to keep them focused!

I challenged Brigham to make the situation positive, try to make freckle-face boy his friend, or at least show him it's okay to be friend-LY. I'm not sure if he will, maybe he'll just avoid him. But, at least Brigham is armed with a Truth.

Hopefully something beautiful will grow from our little chat in the dark.

Gummer.

2012-02-07T06:42:00.000-07:00

This is how Sam spends the majority of his day. Gumming away. The targets in these photos: Grandma and Grandpa's knuckles AND a little plastic heart that doesn't lie: Sammy is totally a QT pie.

One unfortunate incident caused Grandma to cry out, "OUCH, my arthritic finger!"

Kill me now, because that was the funniest thing ever! Although, not so funny thinking about my parents being old enough to HAVE arthritic fingers. My mom will forever be forty-five in my mind. That's how I think of her. It's hard to see the people you love get older. And not just parents.

In little ways I see my older boys needing me less, which is great. They need to learn independence. I don't want them living at home all their life. Gag.

But, letting them go tugs at my heart strings, too. This is actually pretty funny, feeling this way. They're only 10 and 8. It's not like they're graduating this year:). They still have a LONG way to go. But before I know it, they really WILL be graduating.

"Carpe Diem. Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary."

I hope and hope and hope they will (fingers crossed, knock on wood, etc. etc.).

(If anyone can guess what movie THAT line is from, props to you! It was one of my favorites growing up; however, watching it now, I'm surprised my mom let me watch it so much as a kid. That being said, it's still a great movie.)

D Day: Science Fair 2012

2012-02-06T08:59:00.000-07:00

General Eisenhower said of the D Day crusade, "We will accept nothing less than full victory." That's how we felt about the science fair. The cost was high, but the cause was just:).

This year was going to be different. No late night cramming. We were going to start early and make these projects an educational WONDER. The kids would be able to explain their projects in their sleep!

We got the early start, the experiments completed. But the rest? Well, we did the best we could. And, yes, we had some major late night cramming.

Brigham chose the science behind quicksand and made his own. William chose to grow his own crystals.

No matter how prepared you are, there's always so much more to do than you think. The night before they were due, we worked from 3 pm-12 am. Ben came home early to help because the quicksand bit was HIS territory. He and Brigham worked that magic. I helped William with his crystals. That was a little more my speed.

You remember the Chinese-food fiasco. I will never order take-out Chinese again, unless I'm a millionaire. I'll take a $5 Little Caesars Hot 'n Ready, instead!

By 10 pm, we sent the boys to bed. We glued the information onto their boards for them, typed their journals, and cleaned up the HUMONGOUS mess that took over our kitchen and family room. I didn't realize how nervous Will was about his project until the next day. When he saw the finished board and all his stuff packed and ready to go, he pulled me aside, put his arms around me, and whispered in a voice of total relief, "Thank you SO MUCH, Mommy." Oh, that boy.

Their projects were a hit. The kids were so proud of them. They worked hard and so did we (which may not be such a good thing).

I'm always torn about science projects. When you walk around, you can tell who had help from parents and who didn't. I know that kids learn more when they do it ALL themselves. They have to really step up. At the same time, these kids are still so young, still learning how to write well and use computers, still learning how to think things through and make conclusions. Boys are sloppier than girls:).

I think we helped our kids too much. Darn my perfectionist-self, but I wanted them to look nice. Maybe I should have let them struggle more, made them type their own work on the computer (they wrote it out, Ben and I typed). I don't know. I forget that the teachers aren't expecting high school science projects. They're third and fourth graders! The projects aren't expected to be too complex.

I have four more opportunities to perfect the "Parental Help" issue. I'm bound to get it right, eventually.

We were all exhausted by day's end. I went to bed thinking I never want a day THIS crazy for a LONG time. Once science fair per year is enough for me!

5 Alive.

2012-02-04T12:30:00.002-07:00

Yesterday Annie turned five. The kids didn't have school because of parent-teacher conferences. We had an entire day to party. Boy, did we ever!

Ben made crepes with nutella, bananas, and whipped cream. Annie's favorite breakfast. Then, Annie I were off to the beauty school to meet Grandma for manicures.

Annie and Grandma went all out with bright colors and flowers. I'm not as pizzazzy when it comes to nails. I'm more simple, not such a color person. However, they convinced me to get a little flashy. Soul-mate. That was my color.

Annie and I baked the cake together. I love using Wilton icing colors at Walmart to brighten up a cake. They are so much bolder than food coloring. We made a pink and purple cake. I am no cake-connoisseur, by an stretch of the word, so I'm grateful that my kids care more that we made a cake especially for them, instead of caring about what it looks like. Phew.

We are definite bowl-lickers over here.

The party was at Grandma and Grandpa's house. Annie opened her gifts and hands down, Grandma scored, big time. She'd been dying for ballet slippers, but wanted them with ribbon that ties up the leg. We found some slippers and Grandma sewed ribbon on the heels. What a hit. As we speak, Annie is at Grandma's dancing to the Nutcracker ballet in her family room.

William couldn't pass up the chance to make us laugh, of course. And Annie kept pulling her pants up, so her ballet slippers were showing. Oh, and see her swimsuit skirt hanging out of her pants? Yeah, she was pretty excited to go swimming after cake and ice cream.

I couldn't find the frosting I was going to use to write "Happy Birthday Annie" on her cake. How ghetto is this? HBA?! Happy Birthday Annie. She was so sweet, saying that it looked like a flower. Bless her.

We made it to the swimming pool. Ten minutes into their swim, William jumped in the water. Lincoln followed too close behind and cracked his chin on William's head. There was blood EVERYWHERE! Water and cuts on the head/chin make for a pretty gruesome scene. JAWS flash-backs.

Lincoln was done for the night. We probably should have taken both of them to urgent care for stitches. It was late, the pool is 45 minutes from civilization. We didn't do it.

Ben took Lincoln home to watch a movie. Watching the others swim was too much for an exhausted, injured little fella. We got Will's bleeding under control so he kept swimming without getting his head wet. We've sure had our share of bleeding heads. It almost seems like a regular occurrence with all these boys. I am not phased by blood anymore. Any they're pretty tough now, too.

On the drive home, in a drowsy voice, Annie said, "Mommy, I don't feel like I'm five yet."

I said, "In a few days I bet you will."

The moment her head hit the pillow she was asleep. Sweet girl. I sure love her.

Busy days.

2012-02-02T23:25:00.001-07:00

I was frantically whipping up a batch of cupcakes for Annie's preschool birthday treat. Tommorow (Friday) is her big day, five years old! I had one hour to shower, get ready, feed Sam, make cupcakes AND frost them (with little candies and sprinkles on top, by request), and make it to Annie's class before it ended.

This was just one little part of my chock-full day. Watching my mixer I thought, This is exactly how I feel, running at a frantic pace, trying to stay one step ahead of the game for fear of sinking!

I don't like busy days. I never want to be a busy person. I like DOING, but never too much at once because then I can't feel what's going on around me. Does that make sense? If everything is rushed, I miss out on so much of what makes life grand, like relationships and people. This is totally a romantic idea, but it's true.

We made it to Annie's class with fifteen minutes to spare. Miracles never cease! Driving there was so beautiful. The sun came out and melted all the snow on the roads, making them steam. I hopped out of my car, quick, to take a picture. My friend pulled over to ask if everything was okay. I felt a little silly telling her I was going to stand in the middle of a 50 MPH road to take a picture of the steam. Oh, well. She laughed and continued on.

The cupcakes may not have looked too pretty, but Annie sure did! I love that sweet, little girl. I am enjoying practically every moment I spend with her. I don't think my mom could say the same about me:). She had to wait until I got married to enjoy "every moment." By then I wasn't such a handful!

Annie was pleased as punch to pass out napkins and cupcakes to all her friends. She felt like a star. However, once preschool ended and the carpool dropped off, we were rushing to our next engagement. SCIENCE FAIR DAY!

Believe me, I'm saving this can of worms for its own post! Just know that we spent a quick fifteen minutes in a Burger King/gas station parking lot, nursing Sam, so we could grab lunch for the boys and get there in time to eat and check out the book fair before they had to get back to their science projects!

Oh, and the night before, I learned a lot about ordering Chinese food for the first time. For starters, it's way too expensive. I about croaked when I paid for carry-out. $40.63! Holy cow.

I think Sam was glued to his car-seat from 8 am-1:30 pm. He never had one full feeding all day long. Just little snippets here and there. Poor little baby.

I think I went back and forth to the elementary school four times (about forty miles total). Boy, that drive got awfully boring. And long.

The day is done. I AM DONE. I need some serious beauty sleep for the big birthday bash tommorow! (BIG being our family and Grandma and Grandpa, heh.)

Doing it right.

2012-02-01T06:53:00.000-07:00

(Since this post is home-focused, I just had to share this cuteness-of-a-lamp I found this weekend. )

I've experienced a breakthrough in clutter management. There are times when you know something is good and true in your mind, but you're not ready to change. Then, one day, for no apparent reason, you're ready. I don't know what SNAPS to cause the change, but it happens.

For me, putting things away the FIRST TIME was challenging. What would normally be a one-step solution inevitably turned into three or more. I became a master of moving things from place to place throughout the day, fully intending to put them away, and they'd never quite made it. I'd sit on the couch nursing Sam and all around me were random things in random places. Clutter. I don't function well in clutter.

Recognizing my bad habit, whenever I had something in my hand I started saying to myself, "Put it where it belongs."

When I'd find shoes in the kitchen or family room I'd usually set them on the rug by the front door. "Put it where it belongs." I started taking them to our room, in the closet, where they go, or to the kids' lockers.

When Annie and I ate lunch, I'd set the dishes in the sink until dinner. "Put it where it belongs." It took one minute longer to rinse and put them in the dishwasher.

When I finished reading the paper, I'd set it on the ginormous paper-pile on our computer desk. "Put it where it belongs." I threw the paper in the garbage.

When I finished running or was changing for bed, I'd put my clothes on the chair in our room. "Put it where it belongs." It took the same amount of time to hang the clothes up if they were clean, or put them in the dirty clothes if they were dirty.

And so on.

Managing the clutter in my home helped me manage the clutter in my brain. My mind was clear to think about things that REALLY mattered, like loving on these little people:

I never thought that doing something right the FIRST TIME would make such a marked difference, but it has. And it's not a hard thing to change. It just takes a smidgen of effort, a thought. Anyone can do it.

About a boy.

2012-01-31T06:54:00.001-07:00

In my post about William last week (read it here), I mentioned, among other things, that he's complex, hilarious, and content. The days following proved my point. Behold, the fruits of his labors:

Unfortunately, Will forgot to throw a pair of white socks in his backpack for basketball practice after school. Poor guy had to play ball in these festive beauties:

Let's take a closer look. Ho, ho, ho! Nothing like a pair of brown Santa socks and black shoes TOGETHER to make an undeniable fashion statement. Growing boy meets Grumpy, Old Men.

I keep wondering when his body will catch up with those feet? Holy cow, this is going to be one tall, handsome fella. The complexity of this moment lies in the fact that William was hunky-dory about it all. Brown socks, black shoes, NO PROBLEM.

On to the hilarious. Lincoln was mad the other day. He takes himself straight to his room, door slamming. I went to check on him because he usually doesn't stay there long, as he'd rather look me in the eye to show his displeasure:). Sweet little guy had fallen asleep. He couldn't have put this together, himself. Whodunnit? You guessed it. Will.

Gotta love that hole in his sock.

I don't know when William is more content than when he's loving on Sammy. He would be happy to have that baby glued to his hip! Sammy is smothered with love. Most often, he's a willing victim. Other times, not-so-willing. We all have our limits, right?

It does my heart good to see these boys melt out of love for their baby brother. I can't help but think what a great self-taught teaching (redundant?) moment this is for them. I wonder if they appreciate the chance to drop the tough-guy exterior and love someone, uninhibited?

I think it gets harder for boys as they become teenagers, needing to act tough, cool, especially around their peers. And yet, once married, they're allowed to be sweet and mushy again. It's gotta be hard being a boy.

I'll count my blessings that I'm the MOTHER of boys. Uninhibited love is my job (thank heavens)!

Sundays, Dads, and Easy Bakes.

2012-01-30T15:23:00.004-07:00

We've started a new Sunday tradition. Rather, it's evolved into a tradition. Ben and Annie practice their culinary skills with her new easy-bake oven every Sunday afternoon. It was her favorite Christmas gift.

I remember wanting one of those for Christmas when I was a little girl. It didn't happen. While we're on this topic, I wanted a rock tumbler from the JC Penny catalog, too, but never got one of those either. Deprived, I know:).

It's comical and endearing to watch Ben with his BIG, daddy-hands helping Annie with mini-cookie sheets and cupcake tins.

Casually, the boys pass by as if they don't care, yet somehow they always end up huddled over the mixing bowl, asking to help, too. It's sweet. No one's TOO cool for the easy bake!

Maybe it's just a stage, but Annie saves her most favorite things for Ben. Doll house, barbies, Old Maid, Go Fish, polly pockets, wii. All for Ben. However, injuries, sore bums, manicures, hair, stories, and drawing pictures are mine. Ben is fun (work with Ben fits the "fun" category). I am functional. BOTH are necessary. (I'd like to think I'm fun, too, but, dinner MUST be made, laundry MUST be folded.)

Time with Dad is precious. Time with Mom is ever-present.

I'll take one for the team, do the dishes any day, to let them play with Ben.

It's a win-win situation.

I choose kids.

2012-01-26T13:23:00.001-07:00

I was visiting with a friend at our kids' Pinewood Derby last night. Somehow, we started talking about people who choose to have dogs instead of kids. Let me emphasize one point: you can choose to have dogs instead of kids and be a FANTASTIC person. However, there's a whole world of ingenuity, hilarity, gratification, and wonder that comes from choosing kids (you CAN, however, have both dogs AND kids, it's like piling on the joy!).

Here's a few reasons why I choose kids:

Because they say things like, "Look, Mommy, we're the same size!"

Because they put on a nursing sports' bra upside-down and say, "Look, Mommy, I'm Mrs. Doubtfire!"

Because you can pretend to EAT them (ferociously) and not get a mouth full of fur.

Because of the look on their faces when they FINALLY win a pinewood derby race.

Because they defy adult versions of reason and logic and create their own.

Because they brush their teeth wearing gloves.

Because they let you discover the wonder of your own hands.

And pose so adorably afterwards.

Because they throw snowballs at Grandpa (much to his chagrin).

Because they see every mistake I make as their mother and still love me.

And, finally, because they're my babies.

My delightful puzzle.

2012-01-25T06:59:00.001-07:00

My little William is blossoming like crazy. He's not even little anymore. He's huge! The tallest kid around these parts. Some things surprise me about this boy. He is truly a delightful puzzle.
He's simple.
He's complex.
He's emotional.
He's content.
He's curious.
He's annoying (not to me, to his siblings).
He's clever.
He's HILARIOUS.
And, well, he never trims his fingernails.

I asked William who he played with at recess. He said, Nobody. Yikes. Red flag. I probed more. To my surprise, William stays in the lunchroom and helps clean up. He CHOOSES to miss lunch recess, the LONGEST recess of the day, to sweep floors and pick up garbage. When I was a kid you couldn't pay me enough to miss recess, I had a reputation to maintain; therefore, I was completely intrigued and baffled by this newly-learned information. Who is this strange boy, the fruit of my loins?

I had to dig deeper. What kid really enjoys that kind of stuff, for real? Was he sad, lonely, bullied, friendless? Nope (unless he's lying through his teeth). He was none of those things. He just really likes doing it. He wants to help clean the lunchroom. Hmm. Curious. And, maybe not so curious. There were a few teachers who I loved pleasing. A few to which I was willing to be a teacher's pet. Maybe the lunch ladies are that for him? Or, maybe closer to the truth, he likes the feeling that comes from helping others.

For a split second I felt bad that ALL of my kids weren't cleaning the lunchroom everyday. Then I realized that was a little ridiculous. Each of my kids is learning this principle in his own way. Lincoln is quickest to sacrifice ANYTHING for a family member (he puts me to shame, sometimes). He takes no thought for himself. Brigham is always doing things for others. Always. He's the oldest child. It comes with the territory. He may not always smile through it, but he does it, diligently. He can enjoy recess without any guilt-trip from me. And Annie is still so young that helping isn't so much a choice as it is a pleasure. Does Sam count? He's just here. Smiling. He provides constant opportunities for helping. An invaluable teaching tool.

So, William can clean the lunchroom to his heart's content.

(And I'm left wishing this vigor would carry over to his dinner dish duties. I would certainly be MOST grateful.)

Dailyness.

2012-01-24T11:08:00.009-07:00

A great deal of my thoughts lately are consumed with running. Probably because I set a goal to train and run a half-marathon this spring. My first half-marathon. My road to post-partum fitness. And much to my chagrin, Ben told me that he, too, would like to run with me. I may or may not have dropped dead at that moment! Delighted, I was (for Yoda-lovers everywhere).

With all this running going on at our house, I had a vision one night (nothing weird, just a mental picture). I saw our family running a race together as a team. The race was life. As a mother, I saw myself as the "running buddy." There were times when I needed to fall back, run a little slower with a needy child, staying beside them until they were back with the group again. I felt such an urging to be ever-ready for when those times came, because, inevitably, they do. I realized that I had to be in-shape: physically, spiritually, emotionally, etc. I had to keep order in my life, build my stamina, so that I could focus my energies on who needed a running buddy at any particular moment.

(Sidenote: I had to take a break from this post a minute ago to TOW a guy out of our front yard. He'd slipped off the road and drove his car up and OVER one of our landscape rocks! Truth be told, I love being a woman to the rescue:))

I was reading a talk by Elaine Dalton and she inspired me to embrace the dailyness, the becoming, of a good running buddy:

I am the facilitator who enables a busy family to go and do and accomplish . . . . At times I have resented the dailyness of my life; but as I look back, I see that dailyness has patterned and schooled me. Daily doings add up, and they can make an eternity of difference . . . .

These daily doings draw me closer to my team, keep me family-focused, make me more aware of when I need to fall back and run beside someone. And that "someone" is ever-changing. I guess it hit me hard that I'm my family's greatest advocate. More often than not, I set the tone. That thought is a little sobering sometimes for a fun-seeking girl like me, taking on all that responsibility. At the same time, I DO love a good challenge.

I was grateful for this teaching moment for myself. Life has a way of teaching us things in a myriad of ways. That's what keeps things interesting, don't you think?

On that note, it's time to get running . . . again!

A pair of polka-dotted boots.

2012-01-22T22:37:00.005-07:00

We had some serious cloud-cover this week. Not my favorite forecast. Not even close. Too many consecutive cloudy days. It always makes my soul feel heavy. And I ~~torture~~ remind myself that just above those looming clouds is a BRIGHT, blue, radiant sky.

I never notice a change in myself right away. I just gradually start drawing inward. Not caring if I see anyone. Not wanting to chat. Feeling kind of "blah" about everything. Nothing extreme. Just mild apathy. I have to exert effort to be excited about each day. Something that's usually effortless. I'm sure my kids can see right through my feigned attempts of cheerful mothering, "Wow, this is gonna be a GREAT day, don't you think?!" when I'm really thinking, "Let's all skip school, stay in our jammies, and do NOTHING. Absolutely NOTHING, ALL DAY LONG." Sounds good to me:).

I LOVE light. Love, love, love it. The absence of it is hard for me. Really hard.

One true joy of mine--we're talking soul-food--is taking pictures. Better yet, finding and executing the "perfect" picture (I'm no professional, by any means), yet, finding inspiration for pictures when I'm light-starved is challenging. My creativity gets sluggish. That's a double-whammy: no light, wanting-creativity, and the perfect recipe for one GROUCHY MAMA!

Four days into this cloudy mess I managed to find a bright spot: Annie and her blessed, little lady-bug boots. Those red and black polka-dots saved me! I didn't realize how much I needed saving until I recognized the change in myself. Bless that girl. Bless those boots.

It was onward and upward from that moment!

Thank heavens.

p.s. I'm pleased to report that TODAY (Sunday) the sun came out, just like Annie said it would, "The sun'll come out, to-morrow . . . ." It pays to hope. God never dissappoints.

Why I love dentists.

2012-01-18T15:28:00.001-07:00

Because they make THIS:

Look like THIS:

Yes, we love our dentist. What a guy.

Good as new, except for the fact that he can't eat beef jerky anymore. All that yanking and pulling doesn't work well on these "new" teeth.

That being said, I had these pictures ready to post in color. However, boys mouths, ages 8 and up, are NOT PRETTY. What an awkward time for their little mouths. All that growing and shifting and cramming in one tiny space is just sad . . . and rather unsightly. Hence, black and white photos to the rescue! They had a way of softening all that pre-pubescent madness:).

I sent the boy-who-shall-remain-nameless to school all smiles this morning. Success.

(He tried to convince us that he needed ONE more day getting used to his teeth before he went back to school. Nice try.)

Monday.

2012-01-16T22:37:00.000-07:00

As my kids have grown, so has my utter enjoyment of the time we spend together.

Not that I didn't love them being with them when they were small. I did. It's just different when they're older, when I don't have to worry so much about the logistics of being together. When I can thoroughly enjoy just BEING, with them.

(My little beauty.)

Today felt like the first time this winter that I spent an extended period of time OUTDOORS with my kids. In the summer, I LIVE outside. In the winter, I hibernate. The crisp air felt surprisingly refreshing, cleansing.

We spent a good deal of time at a little nature park, feeding the ducks, walking on an ice-covered pond. I was a little nervous, until I saw an entire family walking clear across the middle (not too smart, in my opinion). I seem to have a nack for imagining worst-case scenarios.

Watching the kids feed ducks was my entertainment. The biggest goose had his eye on Lincoln. Several times he gave Lincoln a run for his money. You mess with a goose, you get the beak! Even a humungous goose has its limits. This was a very hands-on lesson for Lincoln. I'd say he learned it.

I was lucky enough to love on this little guy when it got too chilly outside. I took this picture of him in the crook of my arm right after nursing him. Oh, how I love this baby.

Several times I caught myself looking at Will. What's up with the flat-brimmed hat? I've seen several teenages wear their hats like that lately, and, well, it looks so funny. So many times I wanted to curve the tar out of that hat! But, I kept my hands in my pockets.

Speaking of Will, after the nature park we went to their school playground. The kids were playing to their heart's content until Will came running to me, arms flailing, high-pitched screaming, the works. I couldn't figure out what happened.

He opened his mouth. Sure enough, two teeth were completely broken 3/4 of the way up. A front tooth and one next to it. Poor fella, I think he thought he would die. He didn't know how to react. Luckily, I kept my cool, reasuring him that 1) he wouldn't die, and 2) it can be fixed, quite easily. He took comfort in that, but, through his tears said he didn't want to go to school until it was, indeed, fixed. We got the first opening, tommorow, 8am, to fix his smile. I don't want to think about how much it's going to cost. We're still paying-off the baby expenses and Lincoln's surgery.

Will gave permission to use this picture ONLY if I didn't say who it was. So, I'm not telling you whose smile that belongs to. Make your best guess:).

I'd say this was a pretty abrupt end to our wonderful, wintry day.

Lunchtime.

2012-01-13T15:57:00.001-07:00

We crashed the lunchroom at school and ate lunch with the kids. They were excited for about one minute then the novelty wore off. Too quick, in my opinion. Their friends were more excited to see us than our own kids! Go figure.

When I was a kid the lunchroom always seemed so big. The tables so long. Not anymore. I was worried that Ben and I would break the table. We distributed our weight . . . just in case. And the waste! I don't think I saw one kid finish his entire lunch. We could seriously feed ALL the starving children in China with the food kids throw away at school.

Sam was passed down the table. Even the principal took a turn, who, upon seeing Sam said, "Oh, isn't SHE beautiful!" Hah. I didn't tell her it was a boy. She figured it out once she was holding him. I think his hair threw her for a loop. The funny part was that she wouldn't pass him back when a little 4th grader asked for a turn. Hilarious. She may have been a little baby-hungry--her first grandbaby is due in a few months.

We played with the kids at recess. Brigham found his friends and away he went. Annie, too. She is chomping at the bit to be in school. And, boy, is she ready. Trusty Will stayed close. He showed us his favorite things to do at recess.

I had to try out these spinning saucers that the kids are always talking about. Let's just say that I'm not the same dare-devil girl I used to be. Spinning makes me sick. I was screaming and all the kids were laughing. I bet they loved seeing a parent squirm.

What a great time! I loved watching my kids with their friends. I loved watching them being THEM. Silly, active, independent, busy. Sometimes I worry about my kids, like, do they have friends at school, are they well-liked, do they behave, do they treat others well when they're with friends, etc. But, today reassured me that they're A-OK. Just happy, confident kids having a fantastic elementary experience.

I hope, I hope, I hope, that they'll always be happy, confident kids. It's a tough world. Sometimes, I wish I could keep them small and safe. That they could skip the inevitable challenges of teenage-dom. But then again, I'm excited to see them blaze their own trails. Developing their own strength.

That means I better become a wise parent. Eek. I've got some work to do.

Eyes.

2012-01-12T10:41:00.000-07:00

I love this picture of Sam because of his eyes. They glow. When they say that the eyes are the window to the soul, they were right. This will sound weird, but, have you noticed that giving something eyes gives it life? Without eyes, it's just some random, inanimate object, but, give it eyes, it comes alive. Eyes are so telling, don't you think? Especially innocent, pure, baby eyes. They just call out, "Love me. That's all I need."

"Become as a little child." There's so much truth in that.

We moved Sammy upstairs to his crib. His head and feet touched each end of his bassinet. Graduation. He and Annie are roomates now. You can imagine that a certain someone feels pretty darn special. And you can ALSO imagine that three other certain someones feel pretty darn jealous:). Can this total adoration last forever?!

Babies and puppies, you just wish they'd stay little forever.

Like Mother, Like Daughter.

2012-01-11T09:34:00.000-07:00

Annie felt a little left out. She wanted a hair-cut just like mine. Do you ever catch yourself thinking that there's only ONE way to do something? I never thought about cutting Annie's hair, myself. I never thought I had a choice. I grew up going to a salon. Sure, my mom would trim my bangs, but my whole head? We went to a professional. I thought to myself, Why not?

I've always wanted to learn how to cut long hair. I've got boy's down pat. I watched several you-tube tutorials about bobs and layering. I figured if I cut it longer than the desired length, we could always run to the salon if I slaughtered it! We had one hour before all the kids' dentist appointments. Time was of the essence. Looking back, that was probably NOT the smartest decision I ever made.

I was a little nervous with the first SNIP. Holding the comb AND scissors is so darn tricky. It took awhile to find my groove. But, it was so fun. Annie, however, wouldn't say it was fun. She kept saying her shoulders hurt, or her neck was tired, or her arms were tired. Eventually, I started giving her mini-candy canes left over from Christmas. That kept her complaints to a minimum:).

I know this is completely anti-climactic. You were expecting a finished product. Well, we had to race out the door to get to the dentist. It's still way too long, a little less crisp than I envisioned. We're going to have hair-cut, part II, today. She wants it shorter. Stylist Mom to the rescue. I think I'll do even better today. Cross your fingers. The layering still makes me nervous. If I can master this, think how advantageous it would be? I'm pretty excited.

Change.

2012-01-10T07:08:00.001-07:00

A dear friend of mine wisely advised, "Life is change. Get used to it." And he was right. However, one thing I hadn't changed in about nine years was MY HAIR. Several days ago I stared at myself in the mirror. Have you ever done that for a long time? You don't see YOU anymore, it's just a face, like saying the same word over and over again until it loses its meaning. All of a sudden, I was sick of my hair. After nearly a DECADE, I was ready for a change.

(Pardon the no-shower-no-style-hair-because-I'm-getting-it-cut look. You get the picture.)

(Can you tell I'm excited?)

I've clung to this hair of mine for some pretty ridiculous reasons. Yet, until now, those reasons always made enough sense to keep me from chopping it.

1. I'm not trying to toot my own horn here, but people have always lavishly praised these locks. It was my trademark. They made me feel like a million bucks. And, who DOESN'T want to feel that way?

2. If I had full, luscious, hair than the eye would be drawn UP instead of DOWN to my more insecure areas, like my hips and thighs. No straight lines on this bod, CUR-VY.

3. Low matinence, high style. Sometimes I felt movie-star-ish with messy, long hair. Weird. I know.

4. Hats looked really cool with this hair.

5. So many where I live sport the A-line, highlighted look. It was nice to feel different.

Two hours and twelve inches later, I am reborn! I love my hair. I feel like a new person. Change can be so fun sometimes. Change is GOOD.

(Since I'm all about keeping it real over here, THIS was my mother's first reaction, "Well, Netty, the first thing I thought was . . . (long pause) WITCH." Yes, she really said that! I laughed SO hard. Here I thought I looked so chic and my sweet mom saved me from any pride. Bless her.)

The Challenge.

2012-01-08T20:52:00.003-07:00

On New Year's Day, Sunday, our Bishop (the leader of our congregation) invited all the members to read the entire Book of Mormon. He gave us all a road map to follow, roughly five chapters a week. If we did this, we'd finish by December 1st. This was a challenge I knew I could do on my own, easy. This was not a challenge we could do as a family, easy.

At scripture time each night we never read an entire chapter at once. The older boys can handle it, the younger, not so much. And I'm usually interrupting five million times to reiterate, teach, emphasize. Sometimes, Ben huffs when I say,"Stop right there. So, kids . . ." We don't get far. But even so, I'm hoping my kids are slowly grasping principles in addition to stories. Quality, not so much quantity. This challenge would test our endurance.

So, we had a family council. I told the kids about how strongly I felt our family needed to participate AS A FAMILY. That the Lord will help us read the scriptures in one year if we plug through an entire chapter each night. I want so badly to offer our kids opportunities to do HARD things, so they know, if they work hard enough, they can do SO MUCH more than they think they can.

(I was so inspired when I heard about my nieces, 12 and 10, who ran a half-marathon in St. George and placed 1st and 2nd in their age groups. They trained with their dad at 5 am, then practiced their piano for an hour after that, ALL before school. That's HARD. But, they did it. They did it (and believe me, they were ready to be done). Think of how strong that's made them? Think about all they'll face as they become teenagers, and, because they've learned that they can do HARD things, are armed to face life's challenges.)

Reading a chapter each night would be hard for us. I'd have to be positive and patient. Very patient. But, I know we can do it. If God asks, he prepares a way.

One week down, lots and lots to go. One night, when it was especially long, I had the kids draw pictures as they listened. Pictures of things they heard, pictures of characters and situations. It worked. I loved what they came up with so much that I'd like to try that every so often, and save their art. Wouldn't it be fun to make a little book of our experience?

I know this promise from President Ezra Taft Benson, quoting Marion G. Romney, is true. I want my kids to know it's true, too:

“I feel certain that if, in our homes, parents will read from the Book of Mormon prayerfully and regularly, both by themselves and with their children, the spirit of that great book will come to permeate our homes and all who dwell therein. The spirit of reverence will increase; mutual respect and consideration for each other will grow. The spirit of contention will depart. Parents will counsel their children in greater love and wisdom. Children will be more responsive and submissive to the counsel of their parents. Righteousness will increase. Faith, hope, and charity—the pure love of Christ—will abound in our homes and lives, bringing in their wake peace, joy, and happiness” (Ensign, May 1980, p. 67).

So, here we go. I'm am full of hope. For now:).

Mysterious.

2012-01-06T09:00:00.001-07:00

The other day Ben and I were whispering in the kitchen. I can't even remember what about. I do remember that he stole a kiss (stole, poor word choice. I was a willing target.) Brigham happened upon our rendezvous, eyes filled with suspicion, and said, "You guys are being mysterious."

That's become an oft-used joke with Ben and I. We try to be mysterious on a regular basis.

But, the real mystery lies in this remark, made by William to Sammy yesterday in the van. We were driving to town and I'm listening to all the conversation in the back. Picutre in your mind the sweetest baby-talk you can muster and insert these words, "I just wanna rip you apart and kiss you all over!"

Whoa. RIP you APART?! That's got to be the most unknowingly bizarre expression of affection I've heard to date. Definately something to remember.

We've had a rough morning so far. Adding Ben to the mix of our morning routine threw us off a bit (he usually has friday off). Not that we don't love having him around, it just made everyone dawdle. Usually we're focused, driven, efficient. The boys barely made it out to the bus. In his rush--and after my threat that he better get 100% on his spelling test--to get on the bus, Lincoln tripped and fell on our gravel driveway. He was torn, does he go back into the house, does he get on the bus, crying? He got on the bus, and boy, did my heart hurt for the fella (but he still better get 100%).

The kids.

2012-01-05T09:59:00.002-07:00

Sam had a well-check visit. It was a little embarassing to be a month and a half overdue (seeing as they come every two months at first). I can't help but get all teary when my babies get immunizations.

I loved our pediatric nurses in Arizona (when I was a new, naive mama), who, after giving immunizations would pass my baby to me quickly, telling me to nurse him and comfort him. "Take as long as you need," they'd say, knowingly, leaving us in the little room. I've done that ever since. I'd soothe my wimpering babes as I nursed them, little tears on their cheeks. So sad.

However,--and not that this dulled Sam's pain any--I smiled when the doctor held Sam and said, "This is an A+ kid!" We LOVE Dr. Jones, and not just because he shares a name with one of our favorite heroes, Indiana Jones, but because he's a great doctor, who gives you his personal cell phone number if you need him! This came in handy one night, after Sam's circumcision.

I said in my unsent-as-of-now (heh) Christmas cards this year that William is our little bookworm. When I read, I want to snuggle up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. When Will reads, he looks so professional. Legs crossed, book in hand, timer set. He always sets a timer to measure how long he reads. In fact, he ALWAYS sets a timer for everything. If I say Daddy will be home in twenty minutes, BAM, he sets the timer. If I say dinner will be ready in forty-five mintues, BAM, he sets the timer. Silly, serious boy.

And, Annie. Bless this sweet girl. Once a week she has a play date. Yesterday was her day. Are you ever pained as you watch your kids with their friends? Pained in a funny, enigmatic sort of way. She turned into another person. A few times I pulled her aside and whispered, "Just be yourself." She was going into baby-talk mode, or would throw her body on the ground just to be funny. It stemmed from excitement and a desire to impress, I'm sure, but holy cow, it was a riot. With time, she'll figure out friend etiquette. For now, I'll remove myself and laugh in a hidden corner of my house.

(Does anyone else out there LOVE Just Dance on the wii?)

Cousins.

2012-01-04T10:11:00.000-07:00

We spent our Christmas break in Utah. The great part about our family in Utah is that ALL of Ben's siblings live there, in the same town! It makes for a pretty crazy group, cousins and all, when we get together in his parent's little house. They've lived there their entire married life. The first house they ever built. All of Ben's memories are in that home.

The only time I catch sight of my kids is during meals or games. Otherwise, they're on some adventure with their cousins, which usually involves MANY sweaty boy-bodies. (Sidenote: many sweaty boy-bodies in a basement can get pretty stinky, if you know what I mean. Two words: boy smell. Blech.)

(Boy, that's a sweet kid.)

Our visit wouldn't be complete without a cousins' football game. All the little boys idolize the older boys. The high school boys. I can't tell you how much I appreciate those big boys. The time they spend indulging the younger boys is amazing. Teaching them plays, letting the kids jump all over them CONSTANTLY, keeping the game fair. It's impressive. They have compassion and patience. The makings of great dads someday.

Annie and Brynlee are always connected at the hip. Or, maybe I should say that Annie is always connected to Brynlee's hip:). They stick to the girl stuff. One night (darn it, I forgot my camera) all eight of the girl cousins got together and had a spa night. Tara, a GORGEOUS, fourteen year-old cousin did all the girls' hair, painted their nails, gave them foot soaks, the whole nine yards!

The adults played games every night. The ladies had a day of shopping the fantastic after-Christmas sales and I squeezed in a little IKEA trip with my sis-in-law. Boy, that's a fun place to explore.

I'd say all parties involved, young and old, had a very FUN week together.

I really love those guys.

Unsolved mysteries.

2012-01-03T13:59:00.005-07:00

Brigham's favorite gift this Christmas was his fish tank. If our current track record is any indicator of our luck with pets, we best NEVER own anything beyond ants. (Maybe we ought to rethink our dog-plans for the spring?)

He started out with six fish: a betta, an algae-eater, and four mollies. That was Saturday. Sunday, we lost two mollies. Monday, two more mollies. Today, the beloved-betta, Cosmo. Only "Al" remains. Trusty, scum-eating Al.

Brigham's heart breaks a little each time we find one belly-up. He is so vigilant and precise about feeding times and temperatures and water conditions. He watches his fish all day. I'm on a mission to solve the mystery of the dying fish. What, or who, is killing these innocent fish (Lincoln was guilty of manslaughter with one molly)? Learning about death is natural, healthy. But death after death after death is a little more than a sweet ten year-old heart can handle!

That's our first trauma.

Second? Christmas cards.

My laws, what am I going to do? They've sat here, label-less for over two weeks! Have you ever re-read your Christmas card and wished you could start over? I would dispose of the letter and just send our pictures, but, unfortunately all the envelopes are SEALED! Blah. Double-blah.

Is it totally ridiculous to send a Christmas card THIS LATE? I feel foolish. What should I do, bag it 'til next year? Ben will REALLY love that. All his efforts creating a Christmas-card-folding-and-stuffing-assembly-line with the kids would be in vain! Sometimes I'm so indecisive I drive myself CRAZY! This leaves us with mystery #2: will you, or will you NOT receive your Carter Christmas letter this year?

Hah, I know you're all eagerly clamoring by your mailboxes, because this IS a pretty important piece of mail. So important, in fact, that it's the only reason I've bought stamps the ENTIRE year. That's BIG.

(The more I think about it, the more I realize I should be counting my blessings that my worries consist of unsent-Christmas cards and a fish epidemic. Believe me, I am VERY grateful.)

The Gift.

2012-01-02T16:18:00.000-07:00

Remember when I said I'd found the PERFECT gift for my brother's family? Well, here it is.

For some of you, this may seem like a small thing. For me, it was HUGE. I don't delight in making crafts. I can do them, but the process brings me little pleasure. I don't know why. However, I felt gobs of pleasure thinking about how perfect this was for them. They are a BRIGHT family and every person is so uniquely THEMSELVES. It was fun to create. I'm NOT a pattern person. I followed some guidelines in a Martha Stewart magazine and the rest was up to me. The personalization of the people. That was SO fun!

I was so excited to put this baby in the mail. And, honestly, I was so excited that I started a craft AND FINISHED a craft. I usually only get to the "started" part and never the "finished."

Christmas day.

2012-01-02T15:59:00.001-07:00

I love the rare occassions when Christmas falls on a Sunday. Toys and magic and Santa are WONDERFUL, but I loved the added feelings of holiness and wonder when my thoughts turned to the Savior.

I loved going to church on Christmas day. I loved that the Bishop of our ward spoke for the entire meeting using only scriptures from the beginning of time through Christ's birth, to his resurrection. Interspersed was congregational singing of Christmas hymns. Lovely. It was a holy day.

BUT, the holy-ness can only last SO long, with happy, crazy kids around. I tucked away my sacred Christmas moments and relished the time with our kids. We played and played and played some more. I think Lincoln was border-line breaking the Sabbath with his pogo stick IN THE HOUSE. I don't know how many times that blasted toy:) went to time-out.

We had a wonderful Christmas. We took advantage of every moment having Ben home for an ENTIRE WEEK! It was hard to send him off to work today. For me, life is JOYFUL with Ben around. For the kids, life is crazy and fun with DAD around.

(We DID save the rocket-launching for Monday, however:)).

And now, with Christmas over, I feel sad and ready to move forward, at the same time. It's always bitter-sweet.

Christmas Eve, part II.

2012-01-02T15:31:00.000-07:00

(William's 3rd grade letter to Santa in the newspaper. Another reason to LOVE small towns.)

After the party at the church house, we had a couple of hours to "rest up" before our next round of FUN! I tried to take a nap and probably had a good hour of snoozing. It felt good. Really good.

That night we met up with all the relatives from my mother's side of the fam. For 50 years they've gone around the town as a family singing Christmas carols. Obviously, the family has grown by leaps and bounds. Our group is BEYOND huge. But, we did it and had a grand time. I love being with my family, even if I'm riding in a car BEHIND all the carolers because little Sammy needed to eat. This is one tradition that my kids LOVE (Except Brigham. He thought he didn't love it, until he hopped on the trailer. Then he changed his tune), especially this year because two of the boys were designated door-knockers, a coveted assignment, to be sure:).

After an hour of caroling, everyone went to my parents house for dinner, followed by a short program and hilarious retelling of "Twas the Night Before Christmas," that my dad shares EVERY Christmas. It was cozy and fun and cheery. I have the neatest cousins, aunts, uncles, etc. So many are SO VERY accomplished. And at the same time, SO VERY down to earth. I feel really blessed.

Pretty soon, people were ready to get home. After evryone left, we read the bible story of Jesus' birth with Grandma and Grandpa. Then it was time for us to head home, too. The kids opened their Christmas Eve jammies and off we went. At home, Brigham was bound and determined NOT to fall asleep. That boy. We waited and waited. Yet, all good things must come to an end. He couldn't hold out ALL night. Christmas Eve night passed in a flash and before I knew it, Ben was waking me up to see the MAGIC!

Christmas Eve, part 1

2011-12-27T00:27:00.001-07:00

We started Christmas Eve with our annual gingerbread houses, which may or may not have been graham crackers (I have yet to make my own gingerbread. Someday). The kids consumed just as much--if not more--candy than what made it on their houses. I love watching my kids create. They're all so different! And, I LOVE all the bright colors of the candy. Doesn't it just make you happy looking at it?!

A short time later we were off to the "Walk Around the Christmas Tree" at the church house. This is an annual celebration that's been happening in our area for 123 YEARS! It is steeped in tradition. We are newbies, but people are very accepting of newcomers:). They set a Christmas tree in the middle of the gym. Live music is playing. Boy, oh, boy, do we have some talent in this area! Everyone is dancing, walking around the tree, or watching people dance. There are smiles and reunions all around.

Santa made an appearance and all but Brigham sat on his knee. William kept telling me that this was NOT the real Santa, just a helper because the REAL Santa was too busy at the moment. He's a believer who, I think, "knows," yet chooses to still believe. Keeping the magic alive. I was the same way as a kid.

The kids loved hanging out with their friends. I loved dancing with Sammy. Ben and I danced ONCE (it's all me, he's the willing partner). A waltz. I feel so dumb because I'm not a good dancer. Well, I'm not good when I'm being serious, dancing FOR REAL. Let me goof around and THEN I'm a good dancer!

Christmas Eve 2011

2011-12-24T10:16:00.002-07:00

(I knew there was a good reason we didn't repaint the shed this summer:). Perfect for a cozy, weathered, Christmas-at-home look.)

Wishing you a VERY Merry Christmas!

Are you getting ready, too?

2011-12-22T22:35:00.006-07:00

We decided to get our chores done TODAY, so that we were free to play all through Christmas break! I love to clean. That's no lie. It's my soul food, in a strange sort of way (it's a healthy outlet to work through problems, thinking and cleaning go hand in hand). One of the commendable qualities I inherited from my angel mother.

My children cleaning WITH me borders on euphoric. There's something about everyone working together, willingly (key word), with Christmas music playing (essential, at present), that makes sprucing up a home a real delight. Passing the Windex, shaking out rugs on the front porch, clean-toilets flushing everywhere, asking for work to be inspected (I love that), and, if we're honest, reminding Annie 20x that she has a pile of JUNK that needs to be removed from the stairs, lest someone break his neck.

Annie, sweet girl, kept finding other, more important things to do . . . like wandering around the house. However, she DID clean all the kitchen chairs and table with Murphy's oil soap, but not before meditating on it a while. She wiped and scrubbed her little heart out. In her mind, that was enough work for one day.

Thankfully, we're enjoying the fruits of a ship-shape home, ready for Christmas! My mom offered to watch the kids tommorow from 3:30-8:30 pm, so we could get all of our wrapping done. A little excessive, in my opinion. We don't have that much to wrap. BUT, maybe Ben and I can grab a little bite to eat, make a date of it? Wouldn't that be grand?!

I'm feelin' it over here. Christmas is ALMOST upon us! Happy day!

Reinventing our wall collage.

2011-12-19T14:59:00.001-07:00

Remember the plate wall that replaced my wall collage? As much as I LOVE that plate wall, I've really been missing our wall collage. I decided to revamp it and give it a new home. I updated our photos, added a new frame here and there, and BEGGED Ben to hang it this weekend (we're talking serious grovelling). He only let me take ONE picture during the whole process, threatening to stop hanging all together. I obeyed (see how submissive I am:)).

I love the results! I am so grateful for a guy who takes the time to do it RIGHT the FIRST time, unlike me, who'd eyeball each frame and end up with forty extra holes in my wall!

Christmas Program 2011

2011-12-19T14:44:00.000-07:00

Grandma and Grandpa came with us to the kids' school Christmas program this year. Our school is fantastic when it comes to this kind of stuff. They really go the extra mile. Unfortunately, I couldn't get close enough for any close-ups during the program, but boy were they cute! The kids have been singing their hearts out at home for weeks! This was one more fabulous way to infuse my soul with Christmas cheer!

All on a winter's day.

2011-12-15T11:19:00.001-07:00

We had a skiff of snow yesterday. I can handle a skiff. As much as I hate being cold, I still feel a tinge of excitement with the first few snowfalls. Especially around Christmastime.

When we lived in Arizona I struggled feeling Christmas-cheery because the winter-grass was green and the palm trees were, well, THERE. Vacation mode. As much as I felt I'd died an gone to heaven living in AZ, at Christmas I wanted to be where there was snow. Where I could see my breath outside, feel the crunching of snow beneath my boots (oh, I love that crunching sound), and watch the sunlight twinkle on frosty tree branches.

Brigham keeps praying for more snow. So sweet.

Annie got all bundled up and went outside for a bit. I watched her repeatedly ROLL down the CONCRETE steps to our patio! ROLL DOWN?! Why that was fun is beyond me. But, then again, I'm not four years old, either. It must have been all that padding--coat, snowpants, etc.

(That reminds me of the toilet paper commercial I watched as a kid, where the kid stuffed his/her clothes with toilet paper, playing football or something? Do you remember that? Okay, random.)

(A cup of Ben's AMAZING homemade egg nog. And, I can't handle the cuteness of this tea-cup I found at a thrift store one day.)

(Will took this picture unbeknownst to me, tweeking Lincoln's nose while talking on the phone.)

Yesterday, my mom told me that if I want Christmas gifts to get where they need to be, I have to send them the next day or so, or they won't make it! Ahh. My homemade Christmas gift for my brother's family is NOT DONE! I'm afraid it won't make it. Therefore, I'm giving myself permission to watch the LONG version of Pride and Prejudice today, while I work my tail off.

Time to get busy!

Cherub.

2011-12-14T08:23:00.000-07:00

I was snuggling a sleeping little Sammy. When he's asleep his skin becomes milky-white and smooth and perfect (purely relaxed). As long as I live, I will always remember the most precious expression of love from my sweet, dear grandma-friend, Carolyn. Gazing at Sammy, she said, in her shaky grandma-voice,

"Oh, our little cherub."

Be still my heart! That's how I've felt about him since he was born, but never had the perfect words. She had the perfect words. And I love her for it.

There's just something about babies, isn't there?

Undies, damage, and smokey-eyes.

2011-12-13T09:53:00.001-07:00

I bought Annie some new underpants on Saturday. She's been begging me to wash them so they'll shrink a bit. Last night, exasperated, she said,

"Mommy, you're NEVER washing my big, humungous undies!"

Sunday was a morning of disaster (why Sunday's have to be my disaster day is beyond me!). After one broken glass bread pan and a broken mixer attachment, Annie said,

"Sorry about all this damage."

Also, on Sunday I was googling how to create the smokey-eye look with eye make-up. After explaining to Ben what I was doing, Lincoln came up to me with questioning eyes,

"Mommy, why do you want to put lil' smokies on your eyes?"

I realize that I am wholly indebted to my children for keeping a healthy perspective about myself.

Bless those kids!

The ordinary.

2011-12-08T11:08:00.003-07:00

I said to Ben last night, "I don't have anything to look forward to tommorow."

Ungrateful? Maybe. Or just tired and needing to go to bed.

I nearly missed getting Annie off to preschool today. Somehow, a little feeling wiggled its way to my brain reminding me. It was the Holy Ghost, I'm sure of it. My mind was so not in preschool mode.  I'm a firm believer that Heavenly Father cares about little things, too, like carpools. "But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered . . ." (Luke 12:7).

I dropped Annie off at school. She was last getting out of the car because she's the only one strong enough to slide the van door closed. I watched her run, her sweet little body bouncing its way to school. Not a thought about body image or friendship dramas, not a care in the world, really, except getting to class where she'd be loved and taught and happy. That's joy.

The drive home reminded me of what I'd said to Ben last night. That started me thinking about my morning. Lincoln was up before I'd turned on the lights. He was nearly dressed and smiling.  That's not normal.  Fabulous, but TOTALLY unexpected. He was happy and cheerful all morning. I didn't have to remind him to do anything. He even brought me the hairspray for his hair that he'd neatly brushed, acing that tricky part on the side of his head. That's joy.

I thought about Brigham. Brushing his teeth, he heard Sammy down the hall in his room.  He got him out of bed, snuggling him close. Sam's ALWAYS so smiley in the morning, it makes EVERYONE happy. I watched Brigham and thought about how I didn't have to nurture anyone as a kid. I didn't care to, until I had little nieces and nephews of my own (too busy being busy). Brigham, and all the kids, are great nurturers. They motherese constantly. They are learning compassion and gentleness, which will, no doubt, benefit them all through life. What a gift to give a child. Babies are priceless on so many levels. That's joy.

Then William. I'm sorry to admit this to the world, but the joy of William this morning was that I didn't hear him whine ONCE, not even once! He's my most easy-going kid, but BOY, can that kid whine:). Good thing I love him to pieces. He's always a little slower getting ready, but today he had his shoes tied and dishes unloaded before the bus came down the road. That's joy.

I guess having nothing to look forward to has its advantages. It gave me time to think about the goodness in the ordinary. And that's joy.

Don't let me forget.

2011-12-06T13:55:00.001-07:00

For memory's sake, there are a few random things I'd like not to forget.

William has NEVER liked peas. I have NEVER stopped giving him peas. I laughed at his clever refusal last night. Deliberate and concise. But, no matter how clever, he's still gonna get peas on his plate. Sweet boy.

After a very contentious car ride, in order to ensure his life and to give me some time to simmer down (not to mention practicing penmanship), Lincoln had to write, "I will behave in the car. I will not hit." His aggression was directed at William (who isn't always innocent, either). The funny part is that he wrote the sentences, BUT, every time he wrote "will," he scratched it out. He REFUSED to write Will's name, he was so mad at him!!

I feel strongly that our kids MUST have a cultured life. We took the older boys to a Christmas concert with a guest performer from Broadway, Brian Stokes Mitchell. Before the show I turned around and saw THIS. Playing POKEMON. I have fervently tried to keep pokemon OUT of our lives. It seems like such a waste of time when there are bikes to ride and forts to build and trees to climb. I've succeeded until now. The influence of boys at school (and inheriting a mass amount of cards from a boy who's outgrown them) is too strong for a non-pokemon mother. So much for culture!

I've been wanting to try this down-and-around braid in Annie's hair for a while, and finally got around to it Sunday. I'm happy with the results and want to try more elaborate do's in the future. Annie LOVES pretty hair and is starting to rebel against my tried-and-true messy pigtails. YIKES.

I was going through the kids' art cupboard and found this. Illustrated by William. I'm wondering what inspired him to chose this subject. Comparing and contrasting underwear vs. boxers. These matters weigh heavily on an 8 year-old boy's mind.

I've stopped giving my kids napkins in their lunches because they tell me they never use them. There goes my little love notes. So, in an effort to leave some stamp of my love, I've drawn pictures or written their names in cool fonts. THIS was a definite favorite.

Such are the random complexities in my life at present. Boxers or briefs, braids or pigtails, contention and penmanshiop, peas or no, pokemon or . . . pokemon, and the list goes on.

My life is certainly NEVER dull.

I kind of like it that way.

First time.

2011-12-04T22:09:00.000-07:00

Some of you may know that TODAY is the anniversary of my first REAL kiss.

However, this day is NOW special for an additional reason. Today is the day that three of my sweet kids (who weren't so sweet BEFORE church) bore their testimonies in Sacrament Meeting for the first time. Will, Lincoln, and Annie.

It's ironic that the day they muster up the courage to take the LONG walk up front is the day I'm nursing Sam in the mother's room. I could hear my kids' little voices through the speaker in the ceiling. Side note: my kids sound so much more innocent when I can't see their faces. They sound so little (duh, Lanette, they ARE little!) At home they're SO animated, there's NOTHING little about ANYTHING they do:).

They went up at different times so it was like a little game to me. I'd hear a voice and try to pinpoint who it was in the congregation. Hearing my own little ones was quite a surprise. A pleasant surprise. And yet, I found myself silently praying that they wouldn't start laughing or freezing up or yelling, "POKEMON RULES!" or something like that! Prayers ARE answered. No fabulously embarassing moment for our family. Just sweet little ones with their sweet simple testimonies about what they know to be true. AMEN to that.

Three's

2011-12-03T15:59:00.004-07:00

I'm not a fan of staying up late by myself.
For one thing, I always freak myself out.
(Have you ever sat by a window late at night imagining what you'd do if you looked out and there was a FACE, a creepy-guy face, staring at you?! I have. Too many times.)

I was up late Thursday night thinking about things that come in three's:
Three musketeers
Three blind mice
Three's Company (which my parents wouldn't let me watch as a kid. Cohabitation.)
Three Stooges
Three french hens
Three little pigs
Three billy goats Gruff
Three wisemen
Three strikes, you're out
etc.
Why this preoccupation with three's?

Well, it started by asking myself WHY I had to get mastitis for the THIRD time?

Yes, you read that right. Third time.

It was so late that thinking of "three's" was about all I could handle at that point. AND, there's not much else you can do but THINK, when you have a heating pad in one hand and a breast pump in the other.

This time has been the most difficult. The pain and recovery are both extremely slow-going. For the life of me, I can't figure out where this bacteria is coming from, how it's getting in Sam's mouth? I'm around him all day long, he doesn't suck on a pacifier, the kids don't stick their fingers in his mouth, I'm a clean, tidy person with a clean, tidy house. So where? How? I just don't know.

Add to the mastitis: battling a yeast infection, a nasty cold sore that spread towards my cheek, and fever blisters in my mouth from the physical strain of the first day. I felt like my body was falling apart. I was unsightly. I joked with my friends that I had leprosy. Grotesquely funny:).

("My favorite place in the world." He drew OUR home. Good for my heart.)

Lincoln had a hard time, too. The worst of my symptoms came on the evening of the first day. I was balled up on the couch, crying, moaning, burning with fever, and Lincoln started to cry. I vaguely remember him walking over to Ben, burying his head in his chest, mumbling, "I'm scared. Mommy's going to die." I called for Lincoln. (It's amazing what you can muster for children you love.) He came over, the saddest little face ever, and I reached for him. He crumbled into me. I snuggled him up and whispered all my love to him. I told him what was happening to me and why. I told him not to worry, that I'd be back to my mommy-self tommorow. He stayed close until it was time for bed. My little Tender Heart. He cried at the hospital when I had Sam, too. His HEART is as big as his ANTICS.

Nothing has been more emotionaly taxing on me than the feeling that I didn't have the strength to take care of my kids. Getting them on their way to school with full tummies and smiles. Finding the strength to feed Sam. Meeting those basic needs. They may seem like physical needs, but to me they were emotional. This may sound extreme, but it was like my soul was at war with my body. Mama Bear syndrome against myself.

As in all things in life, there's ALWAYS something to learn. My empathy for people who are in pain has grown exponentially. I hope to never take my good health for granted again. A GOOD night's sleep is a precious commodity. Long, hot showers are WONDERFUL. Once again, the value of good parents is priceless (especially when you have a husband that works an hour away and leaves before you wake up in the morning). And, our bodies are truly amazing.

Joy to the world . . . or, maybe just us.

2011-11-29T23:03:00.002-07:00

Happy, happy, joy, joy!
That's how we feel at the Carter household.
Last weekend we rang in the Christmas season.
The house is donned with Christmas cheer.
And we are beside ourselves with cheerfulness.

(Sam's introduction to a Christmas tree. We LOVE big brothers.)

(The Christmas MESS.)

I was relaxing in my Christmas-lit family room the other night, hot chocolate in-hand, soaking-in the cozy, sumptuous feelings of the season. I looked around at all the tangible joy and thought how full our home was. It wasn't just the decorations. It was a feeling. Christmas has a spirit all its own. And it fills the soul. I'd say it's the most soul-satisfying feeling available. The spirit of Christ. Others may not recognize it as such, but, it is what it is. And I am MOST grateful for it.

Ben and the kids decorated the tree as I orchestrated from the couch, nursing the babe. Surprisingly, they satisfied every decorating impulse in my body. I didn't change a thing. That's a miracle. Because we didn't cut a tree this year for upstairs, the kids adopted three of our mini-trees. Brigham and Will share the largest, Annie and Lincoln have their own, topped with homeade stars. Lincoln has an ornament with a little mouth that opens. Every night I slip a piece of candy in it for him when he wakes up. Every morning he comes downstairs with a smile.

(Obviously, being wrapped in a tree skirt is not Sam's idea of FUN.)

Sam, being fully taken advantage of, is OFTEN strategically placed under the Christmas tree. Our rule is no going behind or under the tree and the kids put him there to test the waters. "Uh-oh, Mommy, Sammy's under the tree!" Stinkers. He loves it. The lights and the ornaments keep him occupied and his body is constantly in motion. It's safe to say that he's pretty stimulated under there . . . or else, really nervous that a huge tree could squash him in an instant. I wonder if he knows fear yet?

(Just keepin' it real. Giddy-up.)

Christmas music is on from sun-up to sundown. The kids have memorized the radio station's jingle, "K-L-C-EEEEEE," and sing along every time (that 's one successful jingle, it serves its purpose: to get stuck in your head). Their Christmas music repertoire is expanding rapidly and I LOVE IT!

And to think, it's not even DECEMBER yet!

Merry Christmas!

Thankful for this day.

2011-11-28T15:43:00.001-07:00

As I've said before,
I "heart" Thanksgiving.
It's a day full of the things I love most:
family, food, crisp autumn weather, american folk songs, and wintry smells.
My favorite smell of all: burning wood on a cold, frosty day.
"Mommy's favorite smell!"
That's what the kids say whenever we catch a whiff of that blessed aroma.

We kicked off the holiday with a Thanksgiving play in William's classroom. "A Thanksgiving Feast." He was Massasoit, an indian chief. He played his part well, in all his 3rd-grade-Chief-ness. I'm always surprised at how subdued he is in class. A different picture than what we get at home. Minding his p's and q's, I guess.

Thanksgiving was at Mom and Dad's this year.
My Aunt Marilyn and her children/grandchildren joined us, too.
Everyone contributed to the feast.
The day before, Lincoln and I slaved away in the kitchen.
He's my baking partner.
We whipped out rolls and pies in no time!

The years that we hang around here for Thanksgiving we go to a Thanksgiving concert at the tabernacle in town. It's a historical building in the center of town where large church meetings were held. I loved it because american folk music is oh-so-pleasing to my ears, but the kids were none too excited. They had cousins to play with. Why waste time at a concert?! We made it through with much back-scratching, baby-holding, telescope-making, book-reading (Will slipped a Roald Dahl in my purse, tricky guy), and lap-sitting. Even I was ready to go . . . for their sake. The price you pay to give your kids a little culture!! Someday THEY will BEG to go to the Turkey Choir concert! Better yet, someday they will BE in the Turkey Choir!

Thanksgiving was wonderful. We ate, napped, walked, hung Christmas lights outside, and played games into the night. Gathering with people you love is heaven.

I am so thankful that we have a holiday to celebrate Gratitude. The key to a happy life is a grateful life. I'm not too old, but I'm old enough to recognize that gem of truth. And that's something to celebrate!

Thank you.

2011-11-22T11:19:00.001-07:00

It's been a while since I'd looked at ALL the blogs I follow. I tend to stick with those who update on a more frequent basis (this is not a guilt trip for ANYONE). However, these past few days I've caught up with the others. And I noticed something. Wow. Everyone has such an amazing life. Seriously.

I was impressed by how everyone is trying hard to live the best life they can, to give their children happy childhoods, to find goodness in life, generally, and fulfilment in what life has to offer. I was uplifted. And it's funny, because in my weaker moments I would lose sleep (figuratively) thinking that everyone ELSE'S life was so much more interesting, productive, and fantastic than my own. Retarded, I know. But, more or less, I'm sure we've all done that before. I'm grateful I didn't feel that way this time.

We're all doing our best. We're all in different stages of learning. And, not surprisingly, there are SO MANY ways to live a productive, fulfilling life. Looking at these blogs, some focus on health, some on parenting, some on life's funnies, some on the beauties of this world, some on family, some on cooking, some on making home a haven, and the list goes on and on and on! The many faces of "the good life." Vignettes. And I'm the lucky recipient. I can pick and choose from YOUR wealth of knowledge and tailor it for my family. Our lives then become a little better, too. Technology can be a tremndous blessing when used for good.

This was great for me. It's human, at times, to get caught up thinking that life revolves around ourselves and it's a gift to have that view BROADENED. Hah, you mean, I am NOT the center of this universe?! Go figure! Part of this mentality comes from being a spoiled (in my youth), last-born child, I'm sure of it. I really DID think the world revolved around me THEN. Not now.

So, thanks to all of you! Thank you for being good people. For enlightening my life. For giving me things to think on and stew about. For your awesome ideas. For sharing challenges and solutions. For reaffirming to me over and over again that kids are THE MOST HILARIOUS things on this planet! For the realization that women, although unique in their own right, are still the same in SO many ways.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Toothless.

2011-11-22T10:38:00.001-07:00

(He looks like he's still wondering if this is a GOOD thing, or not?!)

That's Lincoln.
Not the mysterious night-fury in How to Train Your Dragon.
He had no idea his tooth was even loose.

He ate an apple after school and came up to me in the kitchen looking very much like he'd done something wrong, thinking he'd get in trouble for it. Sweet fella. He held out his hand with a teeny tiny front tooth cradled in the middle. Looking just as surprised as me, he said, "Mommy, my tooth came out?!"

(Calling Daddy to share the good news.)

He was so excited to put that tooth under his pillow. And even more excited to eat ANOTHER apple the next day and the day after, and so on. He was SURE he could pop out a few more teeth! This is one of the few times when Lincoln has PLANNED AHEAD for ANYTHING. He usually plows through life without looking back!

He has been waiting for YEARS to lose a tooth. Finally. ONE MORE THING his brothers have done that he can now cross off his list, too! Phew. He tends to view his life this way. Little brother syndrome.

Confrontation.

2011-11-21T20:21:00.000-07:00

"You talkin' to ME?"

(Seriously, I think I might eat this little boy. He is just too yummy!)

This and That.

2011-11-17T10:53:00.001-07:00

I have so many jumbled thoughts and needed an outlet. Guess you're all the lucky recipients. Lucky, unlucky, you decide:).

- Christmas music is on (Karen Carpenter at present). It appears that I'm surrounded by Christmas lovers, too, because one local station has started playing it already. Yee-haw. This has got to be one of the greatest natural highs on the planet!

- I was right (from a previous post). Lincoln wrestled in his first match last night. He lost twice. He cried. I can't help but feeling my own fierce internal wrestlings when I watch my boys wrestle. Ben's on the mat shouting what to do, helping them along, and I watch as they're pinned, face to the mat, eyes wide, intense, and focused on Ben. They exert so much on those mats, and not just physically. Sheesh.

- I saw the COOLEST thing at the match. There was a boy, probably six or seven. He was deaf. During his match, his mother was right there beside them, laying on the mat, signing like crazy. They'd move, she'd move, all the while communicating with her son as forcefully as the match itself. What a mother. What a sight. (I thought to myself that I wished I was deaf, too. A cacophony of voices in that gym. Talk about overstimulation.)

- It's snowing. My dear friend put her Christmas lights up at Halloween. I'm thinking she's pretty smart. That's our weekend goal. (Once again, this is totally an Idaho thing. If you miss your window of time, you're sunk . . . or buried, in snow, that is.)

- I think I've lost whatever weight I'm going to lose naturally from having a baby. Now it's all up to me. I have a teensy problem that could quickly morph into a LARGISH problem. I have zero motivation to exercise and I'm hungry ALL THE TIME. Everyone says it's the nursing that keeps me hungry. Cold weather is the greatest detriment to my psyche. I hate being cold. I don't want to go to the gym ($10.59 down the drain every month), because I can't bear to leave Sammy in the gym daycare. I'm afraid to exercise in the dark. Can you believe it's because of dangerous wild animals, like wolves, where I live (they spotted some last winter and warned us to use caution)? I have a really great treadmill, but I last about 1/2 as long, compared to outdoor running. I just have to buck up, I know, and get on the ol' treadmill. Kill me, now. Ugh.

- Lincoln's struggling in school, as if he doesn't care or doesn't realize that his efforts count for something. That they determine something. Too often it's a race to get done fast so he can move on to more "important" things. Careless mistakes when he knows better. I'm having to dig down deep to put forth the time and effort to get him where he needs to be. This is SO HARD for me. I find myself wanting to say things like, "Do you want to have to do 1st grade over again?" Scaring him to perform better. I know that's wrong. Life is just SO full already, I don't think I have the energy to stick with rewards and goals on a consistent basis. It makes me want to cry just thinking about keeping up with that in addition to everything else on my plate. I remind myself often that the Lord won't give us anything we can't overcome, and I believe that's true, but I'm fighting to motivate myself enough to take it on.

- I'm addicted to the ABC show, Revenge. A guilty pleasure.

- I am delighted with my sweet husband. Usually it's been me that gathers our family for prayer each night. He has really stepped up to the plate and taken this on. Even when I would've sent the kids to bed because it was too late, he has gathered us together. That softens my heart and makes me all gooey inside.

- Should I be concerned that Annie can eat a whole box of mac n' cheese by herself?!

- I'm curious if the new Twilight movie is going to be good or a little sketchy? I've heard a few things that make me wonder.

- I woke up with the beginnings of a cold sore. Argh.

- A man is scheduled to be executed by lethal injection Friday. I'm angry that people are saying how cruel it is to do that to him when I think of the cruel and despicable things he did that sent him down death row in the first place. Lethal injection is mild compared with what he did. And protesters say it's cheaper to keep him in prison for life than to end his life. I'm not sure how that math works out.

I was going to end this post, but, gosh, what a downer. Let's end on a good note, shall we?

- Thanksgiving is one of my MOST FAVORITE holidays! I can't wait to begin baking! And I've discovered the cutest homeade Christmas gift for my brother's family, but I can't share it here, because then they'll know. Believe me, it's cool. A Martha Stewart discovery that is SO tailored for my brother's family. I love it when things go together PERFECTLY! I just hope I have enough time to make it work.

On THAT note, have a happy day!

Mastitis and Mothers.

2011-11-15T19:33:00.000-07:00

I woke up early this morning, my temples throbbing with pain, my body shivering with cold yet sweating, and my chest burning and hard. Painful. So painful.

Thus began my relapse with mastitis. I had it when Sam was 3 weeks old, and now, at 8 weeks. I'm amazed that I can go to bed feeling fine and wake up feeling like I'm dying. Amazed that our bodies can change so quickly.  I lay in bed, praying that Brigham would get up with his alarm. I couldn't make it up the stairs to wake them. Sometimes he turns it off and falls back asleep. Thankfully, he got up, turned off the fan and turned on the lights. The other kids followed suit. I dragged my useless body to the couch, hoping that my prescence alone would encourage them as they got ready for school without my help. It's times like these that I'm so grateful my kids are a little older. They really CAN get themselves ready if they need to.

I nursed Sam in excruciating pain. If you've had mastitis, you know what I mean. I knew if I didn't nurse him it would get worse and worse. Sam didn't even notice. He'd look up at me and smile, and I couldn't help but smile back . . . with tears running down my face. Sweet innocent baby.

I called Mom. That's when the tears REALLY started. There is nothing like a mother's empathy. Like she's on the same wavelength as your pain, that she can feel it. Somehow, she can make everything better, just because she's Mom. Now that I'm a mom, I realize that there's no magic formula for solving a child's problems.  But a kid can believe that--that moms are magic. One thing I've learned is that you never stop needing your mom.

Mom drove the preschool carpool for me. She took Sam and I to her house. She made me breakfast AND lunch. She gave Sammy a bath and rocked him to sleep, all the while I lay on the couch with hot flashes of fever. My angel mother. Really.

I want to be like her. She is a nurturing queen.  She seems so much more gentle than me. Everything is done with a more delicate hand.  She's figured out how to stay balanced in her life.  She sacrifices so much of her time for others. She always chooses the better part. And plans well. She's ten times better than me at planning (but I'm more spontaneous, and that's okay, too).  It never seems like she's struggled devoloping these qualities, like they're innate or something (or maybe I'm ignorant of the truth). I have to work harder to be good:). I know she's human, that she's made mistakes, but, boy, has she lived her life with class. I keep my fingers crossed that somewhere in the recesses of MY soul is a part of HER.  And, granted, she's had 35 more years to become this way. There IS hope for me, I just know it!

It's getting late. I'm hoping for a better night and a healthy morning, and praying that my mastitis days are officially OVER. I'm not sure how much more my bosom can handle:).

Sam's Blessing.

2011-11-14T10:43:00.001-07:00

Sunday, we blessed Sam.
Samuel Louis Carter.
Named after his great-great grandpa and great grandpa, on Ben's side.

For some reason I always imagine these days as measured, smooth, peaceful, so that they'll forever remain in my memory as the most special of days. Okay, so maybe that dream was a little too romanticized. Putting it mildly, the time leading up to the blessing was out of control!

Ben's parents came for the weekend. We LOVE them. And yet, the kids always go through this weird crazy phase where they behave out of character. As if they're too excited so everything is a BIG DEAL, especially conflict with another sibling or being asked to do their dish job, etc. Not the picture-perfect family you want your in-laws to see. Luckily, I know they love us, regardless, but still . . . I'd like us to put our best foot forward.

Sunday was true to form. Sweet Lincoln aced the task of keeping his siblings wound up. Always a bundle of energy, I think he had to sit on his bed three times before we left for church. I had to remove him from the goings-on so the goings-on could keep going on:). The day you bless your baby is NOT the day to be late for church.

I tried to mangae Sam's feeding/napping schedule so that he'd be asleep for the blessing. That didn't work. I went into the mother's room at church so I could feed him one last time. Every time I'd sit down, BOOM, he'd poop! Twice I had to unbutton his blessing outfit (six buttons, not snaps) and change him. Church started and I hadn't fed him. My mom found me and said it was time to go back to the chapel. I thought they blessed babies AFTER the sacrament, not BEFORE. Mom took Sammy while I set myself to rights. I made it back, but not without stepping on William's toe with my heels as I passed him on our pew.

It was time. Most thankfully, the blessing went off without a hitch. Sam was awake, but quiet. Ben gave Sam such a sweet blessing. Sam looked beautiful and snug in his little white knit blessing outfit. My few moments of peace had passed. Sam started fussing, so I had to leave and feed him. This time, successfully, but I missed sitting with my family. My parents, Ben's parents, my grandma, and three aunts all came to support us. I was so grateful, yet I didn't get to spend any time with them because they had to leave after sacrament meeting.

The end of the day was my favorite, probably because it was calm, slow, easy, and relaxing. Ben didn't have any meetings after church (we get out at 4:30 pm), so we all went home together. We ate left-overs from our big family dinner the night before. And closed our day sitting around the table playing games. I sure love my family. So much.

Some days just don't go as planned. That's life, I guess. But we made the best of a crazy day (Tried to, anyway. I think I was a little too grouchy. Thankfully, kids forgive that kind of stuff.) We sent them off to bed, warmed by hugs and kisses. And they were smiling.

Brigham stands for freedom.

2011-11-12T15:33:00.000-07:00

Ronald Reagan said, "Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same."

A mentor of mine, and true advocate of freedom, uses the first sentence of that quote all the time. And he's right.

I watched Brigham's Veteran's Day program at school on Friday. The fourth graders have been working for weeks. Missed recesses, late lunches, all to make this program fantastic. And it was. I was teary-eyed 80% of the time. It was the combination of children, beautiful music, patriotic music, and the spirit of freedom. You could feel something in that room. Innocence and truth.

Brigham has always been my soldier. His passion, books, sketches, clothing--all revolve around the armed forces. This program was so important to him. I received daily updates on its progress. He would sing the songs at home (which is a miracle in itself). I want to keep this spirit VIBRANT in him. I know it will serve him well. My little patriot.

I think the majority of people think we're truly free. Of course, we are largely free compared with so many other countries, but little by little the awareness of what true freedom is, is slipping away. We are giving it away in our ignorance. We put the protection of these freedoms in the hands of elected officials and move on. Unfortunately, we have too many politicians and not enough statesmen. We all feel tremendous pride in our country on patriotic holidays, but what about every other day of the year? What are we doing to make sure we have more to celebrate than just the courage of our past, our founding. What about our present, our future? The more I learn about freedom, the more empowered I feel. It's all about educating ourselves and doing something about it, no matter how small that contribution may seem. All of us can take baby steps, right?

Needless to say, I was enthusiatic to salute our veterans. We had a handful of elderly gentlemen come to the front of the gym. The children sang a song of gratitude and thanks for their sacrifice. We all stood . . . and cried. Those men looked noble, even those hunched over with age. Bless them all.

My Twilight Zone.

2011-11-10T12:33:00.003-07:00

I have entered (dum dum dummm . . .) the twilight zone.
There's a strange sort of humming in the house.
(Enter Simon and Garfunkel)
" . . . the sound of silence."
Silence.
Weird.

I have six hours without the pitter-patter of little feet today.
Except for Sam (who isn't quite pitter-pattering).
Come 3 o'clock, it's back to the real world.
The crazy-fun (and sometimes not-so-crazy-fun) life of busy, busy, happy children.

I thought in the shower how to make the best use of my time . . . this strange LONGNESS of time . . . semi-alone? I thought about all the things that needed doing. The ginormous laundry pile was folded two days ago. The dishes are done. The house is pretty clean (except my bathroom. It needs a little wipedown). I don't want to spend any money, so I'm not going shopping. I just want to stay home. Hmm.

This doesn't happen ~~ever~~ very often.

Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to talk to Sammy. I'm going to feed Sammy. I'm going to change Sammy's diaper. And THEN, I'm going to finish one of my all-time favorite movies, North and South (Yes, Richard Armitage, you are quite dashing in all your cotton-mill charm), that I started whilst folding laundry two days ago. Then, I'm going to finish the book on my nightstand.

An overview of Lanette's goals for the day: to fill my mind with thoughts of love (North and South), my soul with the beauty of well-written words, and my heart with the tender love of a sweet, little baby.

Wish me luck. I might have to bang a few pots and pans for things to feel normal around here. And, yet, I'm a little tingly inside, in a good way, thinking about this unusual day of mine.

Mortal Combat.

2011-11-09T09:46:00.000-07:00

I thought a gym filled with 300 little wrestlers smelled bad.
I can't imagine a gym filled with 300 BIG wrestlers!
Holy cow.

This is our second season of wrestling.
But our very first tournament.
William was our only wrestler since Lincoln has a two-week break from contact sports.
This IS a contact sport.
Talk about INTENSE.
I watched little pre-k wrestlers that could probably take ME down!

I've never been a big wrestling fan. In high school I always thought wrestlers were sweaty, acne-ridden boys who starved themselves and needlessly exercised in sweat suits, scarves, hats, etc. to sweat off more weight. Blech. (I did, however, have a brief dating stint with the captain of the wrestling team, but, that's a whole 'nother traumatic post.)

I'm repenting for being so judgemental. Wrestling is hard work. Wrestling is emotionally tough. Wrestling is NOT for the faint of heart. Wrestling is hard to watch when it's your own sweet child out there!!

Our kids wrestle because it's great prep for football. It instills confidence, balance, etc. (not that I knew that, it's all Ben). My kids love it.

This was a more casual tournament. As you can see, Will isn't wearing wrestling gear. We decided not to buy the stuff until we were sure it was something they'd stick with. I think we're getting there.

Each kid got to wrestle twice. Will won his first match and barely lost the second. Will had the kid pinned and then the officials said they forgot to start the clock. Dang it. They started again and Will lost. But that's okay. It was a great match. They both worked so hard and either could've won. Will didn't mind. He was all smiles and patted the winner on the back.

Will is my most easy-going kid. He likes to be a part of things, but doesn't care to be in the spotlight. My other boys are not that way. They care too much about winning. I expect, when Lincoln's wrestling, we'll see a few tears if he doesn't come out on top. It's a good lesson to learn. This is why I love sports.

It was a LONG evening for only two matches. 5:30-8 pm. Next time we'll be more prepared with snacks and books. I climbed my way to the nose-bleed section and nursed Sam. I lost Annie as we were headed out the door. I called Ben, frantic, not that he could do anything about it. The other kids were all buckled up and I scoured the gym for a third time. When Annie's lost, she usually huddles in a corner, or under a clothing rack, crying. Maybe she's getting brave. She didn't even know we'd lost her. She was in the opposite corner of the gym, sitting on the floor holding the door open like a door-stop!

Will has proudly carried his medal around with him everywhere. Lincoln cries whenever he sees it. Oh, how he wanted a medal. I kept Lincoln home today because I had to pick him up from school early yesterday. Still hurting. After the big boys got on the bus, Lincoln found that medal and put it on, dreaming of his moment of glory.

Soon, my young Padawan, soon.

Annie's new dolly.

2011-11-08T08:59:00.001-07:00

Annie got a new dolly the other day.

It's called, "The Sammy Doll."

You can get him at any Toys 'R Us.

He's fully equiped:

He cries.

He goes potty.

He eats.

He comes with an assortment of interchangeable outfits.

He even smiles, occasionally.

He's practically a REAL baby.

Try him.

100% satisfaction guaranteed.

Precious.

2011-11-07T10:40:00.000-07:00

This is why I love Ben.

A most unselfish giver of his time.

When it comes to his children.

(Or his sassy wife.)

He's taught me a thing or two.

Ben as MAN-icurist.

2011-11-07T09:18:00.001-07:00

I kept telling Annie I'd paint her nails . . . later.
"Later" never happened.
So, Annie went to the one she has tightly-wrapped around her painted little fingers.
DAD.
I came into the kitchen to this delightful scene:

(Painting, two coats, no less.)

(Drying.)

(Super-dry.)

(Happy and somewhat funny-faced little girl.)

Why Ben LOVES winter.

2011-11-07T09:07:00.000-07:00

I woke up with Christmas music on my mind.
The first snowfalls do that to me.
(However, successive snowfalls in, say, April/May have the opposite effect. Idaho, remember?)

Ben dragged out the snow clothes hibernating in the shop. The kids got into them faster than lightning, scattering them all over the place. Scattered happiness. Donning themselves in layers, they chattered about last winter, all smiles. Well, all smiles, until the big boys realized they had no functional boots and their only gloves had holes in each fingertip. My boys are growing up. They each wore a pair of MY boots and MY gloves. Out the door they went.

Annie, however, still needed help. Dad to the rescue (did I mention I love that guy?)! I was practically rolling on the floor listening to Ben's mild expletives (okay, not REAL expletives) as he shoved (hah) Annie's little body into her boots, coat, and gloves. He had a taste of my world. Fortunately, I've had years to develop an immunity to the exhaustion that comes with the never-ending job of dressing little ones in winter clothes over and over and over again. Time for Benny-Boy to get an immunization!

"HEAR" he is.

2011-11-03T21:28:00.001-06:00

I was up at 5:15 am.
Time to rub the lidocaine cream on the tops of Lincoln's hands an hour before he went to the hospital.
It was SUPPOSED to numb the area where they'd hook up his IV.
(Supposed to--as the operative words here. It didn't work. Poor fella.)
Ben wanted to be with Lincoln for the surgery.
He didn't like the idea of me and little Sammy at the hospital, so he took the day off to be with Lincoln.
I sent them on their way, a backpack stuffed with Lincoln's favorite blanket and stuffed snake.
He was a little cautious this morning. Scared and nervous, he said.
The opposite of yesterday.

I took Lincoln shopping last night.
He could choose any flavors he wanted within certain categories:
popsicles, yogurt, jello, pudding, and gatarade.
Hello, CHRISTMAS!
That's how he felt. He said, "You mean, I can choose ANYTHING I want!?"
Sweet boy, he practically skipped through the whole store.

(I was so glad we had something exciting for Lincoln to do because at the exact same time, Ben was getting ice cream with the big boys--a reward for consistent stellar performance at school. They were getting lazy about spelling tests and needed something to work towards, ahem, to reaquaint them with their more academic selves. It worked.)

Ben checked-in often, giving me updates. The surgery lasted 30 minutes. I'm surprised you can remove tonsils, adenoids, and put tubes in both ears, ALL in 30 minutes. Thankfully, everything went great. I was able to talk to Lincoln on the phone, but he kept falling asleep because of the anesthesia. While I waited, I got the couch prepped for him. Base camp for recovery.

Really, I just wanted him home. I felt strange not being the one at the hospital. I kept thinking about if something happened to him, some fluky allergic reaction or complication, and I wouldn't be there for him. I'm his mother, the nurturer, the comforter. I had to put those thoughts on a shelf and let them be. It's times like that when I have to remind myself that God knows all. And if that's true, and something DID happen, God's tailored that experience for a reason, for us. Even knowing this procedure is extremely common, I'm still relieved that Lincoln survived:). It's just like me to briefly entertain worse-case scenarios on occasion.

Lincoln's home now. We've hung out on the couch all day, eating popsicles, playing footsie, and watching "The Andy Griffith Show" episodes from the library (almost done with season one). I'm delighted that my kids love that show. I did, too. They sure don't make 'em like they used to.

I hope we can stay on top of his pain. That he'll recover without hurting too much. I whispered his name this afternoon, "Lincoln, can you hear me?" Eyes closed, he nodded. That was he best thing of all. I am so grateful for modern medicine, for doctors who know what they're doing, for my little boy who can hear again.

In spite of it all, today was a good day.

It was the best of times.

2011-11-02T08:42:00.005-06:00

There are two major milestones I yearn for once that baby comes into my arms.
Sleeping through the night and smiling.
The baby, that is.
Rejoicingly, we have finally achieved both!
Can I get an AMEN!?

At first I thought it was the jammies. Ever since Sam was four weeks old (he's six weeks now), and we'd put him in a certain pair of white, ducky jammies, he'd sleep through the night. The first night it happened I woke up--extremely rested, mind you--thinking, He must be dead. I became superstitious. I'd wash the jammies JUST so he could wear them night after night after night. Ben would laugh at me as I'd warn him, "Hey, buddy, don't knock it . . . ." However, the past week he's worn a variety of cozy little jammies and the result is the same. Have we conquered sleepless nights? I am so hopeful. Some people love those nighttimes with their babies. As much as I love my babies, I am NOT one of those people.

Halloween night Sam smiled! First, a smallish grin. Then slowly, working this out for the first time, his mouth opened wide in a big, mouthy grin. I'd been waiting for this, my most favorite of moments. With his mouth still open and smiley eyes aglow, I wondered if he was trying to kiss me? This was probably all in my head, but, oh well, let me fool myself into believing it because I can't remember when babies start kissing for real (and the fact that I really, really wanted to believe that he WAS trying to kiss me). I kissed him and kissed him and the smiles kept coming. Such a great moment.

He's not smiling all the time. It usually happens after he eats and we have a good chunk of awake time. But that's okay, it's onward and upward from here.

Now, if I could just remember when they start laughing . . . .

Record-setting.

2011-11-01T09:50:00.002-06:00

Check out our Halloween moon. Nature was festive, too. Speaking of celestial entities, I love thinking that ALL OF US share the same moon (or sun or stars), no matter where we live. It makes the people I love not seem so far away.

Last night we reached an all time low.
1 trick-or-treater.
One.
Uno.
Eins.
I didn't expect many.
Last year we had three, I think.
That's what we get for opting out of subdivision-life.

The only positive thing about it was that Lincoln had to share his candy with the sweet little boy (Caleb) who came to our jack-o'-lantern-LESS house. Not that Lincoln volunteered, he was just the only one left with mass amounts of candy . . . it NEEDED to be shared. He's a saver. And, as younger brothers often are, a scavenger, of all things his brothers leave behind or fail to put away. It's pretty funny.

I don't know about you, but I'm ready to move on to Thanksgiving (thankfully). I'm coming out of the closet: Halloween is fun, but it's probably my least favorite holiday. Call me a scrooge, or whatever term would apply to Halloween party-poopers.

Bunch-O-Halloweenies.

2011-10-31T12:39:00.001-06:00

I don't like the dark side of Halloween.
Death, blood, evil.
Not for me.
I love celebrating the harvest season.
I love the kids' excitement to dress up in FUN costumes.
I love celebrating, in general.
A way to spice-up the everyday, right?

Saturday was the Trunk-or-Treat at our church. Every year I tell myself I'll decorate our car for the occasion. Every year . . . it doesn't happen. Someday. Probably when Ben and I are empty-nesters. Regardless, we had fun. Bless William's heart, he walked around with Annie and I the entire time. Brigham and Lincoln took off with friends. Ben and Sam passed out the candy, and because Ben wore a santa hat, he'd shout, "MERRY CHRISTMAS," every time someone came by. That's my guy.

We hate having candy--and their #$&*@! wrappers--around the house for weeks so we (evil parents) tell our kids to eat it ASAP and be done with it. So far, it's worked. No stomach aches, no throwing up from candy-overload. And a perk of being their mother is that they feel obligated to share their candy with me. Thankfully, with age, my obsession with all things CANDY has died a slow death. I have a NO button, or, I should say, a NO MORE button. A few pieces is enough.

The Halloween parties are going on at school right now. To say Lincoln was upset that he couldn't take his light-saber due it's "weapon-like" nature in a "no weapons allowed" school is an understatement. He was sure that no one would know what he was for Halloween. Personally, I think they'll figure it out . . . sans light-saber.

As for me and the little ones, we're busy getting ready for our annual halloween feast tonight.

p.s. We haven't carved pumpkins. I'm hoping we can get through today without anyone asking why. And I'm not allowing myself to feel any guilt about this, either. However, the true test will be if Ben insists that we do. He's a festive sort of fellow.

rub-a-dub-dub

2011-10-28T10:45:00.000-06:00

(Seriously, can you even handle that sweet face?)

Isn't there some unwritten law that all must have bathing pictures of their little ones?
Count me in!
Sam is just starting to like his baths.
There's something so sweet about washing little feet and hands,
not to mention the edible little rolls on their arms and legs.

Sam is growing fast. He weighed 11 lbs. 4 oz. last week. He's feeling more solid every day. I love a big chubba-bubba baby. The squishier the better.

There are two things that fascinate him. I can tell because he goes completely still, you can hardly tell he's breathing. It's hilarious. He watches so intently. When I eat and when I sing to him. I put all good manners aside and chew with my mouth wide open . . . just to give him a full experience:). I think it's a given that most babies love to hear their mothers sing and comforting to all mothers that babies don't care if they're on key or not.

I'm sad for the day when the kids will stop praying that they're grateful Sam is in our family. The newness and novelty of a little baby is still going strong. It's one of the most precious things about having him around--the melting of the older children. The fastest way to get them in their beds is to threaten that Sammy can't kiss them if they haven't said their prayers and are tucked in. If he's awake, Ben flies Sammy into each of their rooms like he's a helicopter. They eat it up.

I have to run. We're on a mission for some last mintue halloween stuff. Fake fur for Brigham's caveman, a crown for Will, and SOMETHING to make green ears for Lincoln's Master Yoda. Thankfully, we're reusing so many costume parts from years past. I love it when they make things easy.

Spidey-girl.

2011-10-27T15:16:00.001-06:00

To say that Annie was beside herself with excitement would be an understatement.
She has lived for this day for weeks.
There was a halloween program at her preschool this morning.
We were a little late due to Annie's costume demands:
glittered face, pink hair, spider-kissed cheek, and,
oddly, one pink jewel smack dab in the middle of her forehead.
Spidey-girl with an Indian flare.

This little preschool has been great for Annie.
Most of her life has been with me. Just me.
BOR-ING for her (kidding, we've had a blast).
Therefore, she's a pretty innocent little girl, which I LOVE.
Country living doesn't lend itself to little-girl play dates.

Preschool has helped her branch out, open up, hold her own, and,
if we're honest, explore the complexities of female-peer relationships.
Like, sometimes, three's a crowd . . . unless you're aware and considerate.
She's learning about herself and it's fun to get the 411 of preschool-life when I pick her up.

I am so excited to watch her grow up, see who'll she'll become, as she maneuvers through life.
She's been a delightful little companion to me with all these boys around.
She has a sweetness that I NEVER had as a child.
I'm proud to call her my friend.
Can you be friends with someone twenty-seven years younger than yourself?
I'd say, YES.

I Spy Sam.

2011-10-26T11:21:00.000-06:00

Brigham: What if Sam was a top secret spy . . . FOR JESUS?
Me: I hate to break it to you son, but, Jesus doesn't need any spys. He's omniscient. But if He wasn't, that'd be pretty cool.

On another note, Will brought home this envelope yesterday. He'd found a quarter on the playground and took it to the office. They kept it for a month and--surprise, surprise--no one claimed it. Therefore, William is $.25 richer! He felt like a million bucks as I showered him with praise.

Moral of the story: It pays to be honest.

Can you hear me now?

2011-10-25T10:29:00.002-06:00

I'm not the first parent to wonder if my kids are deaf OR just choosing NOT to hear me.
Sweet stinkers.
Such was the case with Lincoln.
When he talked, it was always LOUD.
When he'd call for me and I'd answer with my back turned, he wouldn't hear me.
He ALWAYS acted like he couldn't hear me.
I was none too happy about that, believe you me,
BECAUSE I thought he was choosing NOT to listen.
Shame on me.

I called an audiologist.
I was going to nip this in the bud.
They tested his eardrums to see if they vibrated correctly.
The test looks for steep peaks as sound travels through the ear.
Lincoln's eardrums FLATLINED. No vibration.
She put him in a sound-proof room and ran all sorts of tests,
first through the eardrum,
then, just through the bones of the ear.
The first test showed extreme hearing loss in both ears.
The second test showed perfect hearing.

As she watched him while administering the test through the eardrums, she said that he looked frustrated. He was trying so hard to pass the test. She could tell he was guessing. He couldn't hear.

When she switched to the sound passing only through the bones of his ear, he came alive. He was confident. He felt in control. He passed with flying colors.

Our next step was an ear, nose, and throat doctor. After more tests the results showed that Lincoln has thick, mucousy gunk behind his eardrum which prevents it from vibrating. His adenoids are completely blocking his eustacean tubes, connecting the ear to the nasal passage. AND his tonsils are nearly touching. Therefore, ALL must be removed and tubes put in both ears. The gunk developed from a past ear infection that healed EXCEPT the gunk never went away. It festered over time, at least 12 weeks. Lincoln's only had a few ear infections so I couldn't remember the last time he'd had one.

They said that he's hearing NOTHING at school, it's as if his head is UNDERWATER!

Oh, my heart sank.
I cried thinking about how frustrated he must feel at school every day.
I cried because of all the times I got in his face and said (loudly), "PUT. ON. YOUR. SHOES."
I cried because life must be so hard when you're trying to hear AND YOU JUST CAN'T.

I sent an email to his teacher and get this, her response: "At the beginning of the year they perform a hearing screening for all students. Lincoln DIDN'T PASS THE TEST BUT THEY TOLD ME NOT TO INFORM YOU YET!!!!! I was mad. All of his frustrations could have been prevented IF THEY HAD TOLD ME THE FIRST WEEK OF SCHOOL!! You better believe I went to the principal about this. She looked into it. Yesterday I got a call from the speech pathologist at the school. She was FULL of apologies. She gave him the test and was going to check him again two weeks later, but forgot. She was new to the school, trying to organize the speech program and it slipped past her. Luckily I'd had weeks to simmer down. I was myself again, very willing to forgive and move on.

As it stands, Lincoln will have surgery on November 3rd. Pray for the little guy. I'm sure we'll have a rough few days. On the bright side, he'll be in heaven as he drowns in jello, pudding, and popsicles.

I can't wait to see the change in Lincoln. I can't wait to see his eyes bright as he listens and can hear! They say he'll be a new little man. Wish us luck.

Sam I Am.

2011-10-24T16:18:00.001-06:00

I wonder what my family would do to me if I was completely helpless, at their every whim?
Then I'd know how Sam feels.
Patient boy.
That's all there is to it.
Bonding.
I'm sure that's what he'd say
. . . IF he could talk.

Winning First Place

Mowing the lawn with Dad

Acting as "tee" for a punt

Ready for burial (according to the kids) as a knight. Fully equipped with sword, shield, and arm armour (which he refused to wear).

Being measured on our growth chart

Ready for the BYU game. He's pretty excited, right?

Life revisited.

2011-10-21T11:06:00.002-06:00

There's something to be said for spacing your kids.
(There's something to be said for having them close together, too . . . that's another post altogether.)
I didn't realize it until now because our first four babies were all less than two years apart.
The fun thing about having little Sammy is the four year spacing.
It's like starting all over again MINUS the anxiety and stress of first-time parenting.
It's HEAVENLY.

With my other kids, they were ALL so little that I was meeting needs constantly.
Everyone needed my help.
Survival mode (it wasn't bad, I didn't know any different. I was happy . . . and crazy).

This time is different.
We're all in this together: taking care of Sammy.
Everyone else is pretty self-sufficient:
i.e. can get breakast, tie shoes, make lunches, wipe their bums, etc.
We're free to enjoy every minute with this baby boy--poopy diapers and all.
"Many hands make light work."
It's true.

After Sam was born, all the sweet old ladies around me told me to let NO OUTSIDE OBLIGATION get in the way of loving my baby. I obeyed. They were right. This month has been completely family-focused and nothing else. I stayed home as often as I could. Loving Sam and being there for Ben and the kids was all I did. I realized that with my other babies I jumped back into life too soon. Like I felt I had to prove I was super-woman, or something. Inevitably, there were emotional crashes with each baby. Pride, pride, pride. With Sam, I've felt balanced, peaceful, and full of positive emotion. Live and learn, right?

Sam is one month old. I'm stepping back into life. I've started exercising. My waistline is resuming a semi-normal shape. The clothes-of-the-person-I-once-was are within reach. I can wear high-heels to church! I picked up a book I've been dying to read. I'm ready to blog. We're establishing new family routines. Life is slowly feeling normal.

And I feel good.
Really good.
And grateful.
So grateful.

September 15, 2011.

2011-10-10T16:21:00.001-06:00

(My LAST day of pregnancy.)

4:30 am.
Ben wakes up to a POP!
Moments later I wake up and say, "I think my water just broke!"

Thus began our splendid (and not so splendid) day of delivery. Never having had my water break BEFORE I made it to the hospital, I didn't know what to expect. I thought with my 5th baby everything would happen FAST. I was afraid of delivering in the car.
Hah. Not even close.
I prefer to wait until I absolutely have to go to the hospital. I'd rather labor at home. If I'd known that hard contractions wouldn't start until 11 am, I would've stayed at home. Thus began a very long and frustrating day.

Hospitals make me feel tied down. With monitors hooked up to my body, I feel stuck to my hospital bed. Moving is a chore. Unhooking it is annoying, so I stay put. Unfortunately. To make matters worse, I had a slightly incompetent nurse. Very young and very indecisive. I was often frustrated and left waiting for long periods of time. I would look at my mom and say, "I just feel like crying," because I was so disappointed with the care I received. Thank goodness my little Sammy knew how to get himself here, because the nurse sure didn't help:).

My problem is that I'm too nice. I always say that if you are kind, grateful, etc. the nurses will be the same. I'll receive better care if I'm nice than otherwise. That USUALLY works. In my case, the nurse was nice, really nice. Just ignorant.

(For the sake of being completely negative, I'll end with this thought: this particular hospital delivers babies ALL the time (very baby-happy in this area). I wonder if they've become complacent. Birth isn't as celebrated, whereas at other hospitals I've delivered at, having a baby was handled very professionally, the nurses were extremely attentive, birth was something new and exciting because it didn't happen as often. Just my opinion.)

Thankfully at 5:30 pm, and one push later, Samuel Louis Carter was born. 9 lbs. 21.5 inches. Healthy as can be with a full head of hair! It was magical. Miraculous. I am always in awe of birth. Those moments are precious and unbelieveable and, in a very real sense, sacred. (I have to forget the fact that the nurse said, "Let's have you push a few times and THEN we'll call the doctor and have him come up from his office." Hmm. His office was DOWN THE ROAD. I push ONCE and my babies come. Not a FEW times. I was concerned that Ms. Nurse would deliver this babe. Very concerned.)

Luckily, my postpartum nurse was a family friend. She was kind enough to let me leave that "blessed" hospital early. I was SO READY to come home. I craved my own bed, my own bathroom, my children, my pillow, real food, and a hot shower (can you believe they didn't have HOT water when I wanted to shower?! Seriously.)

After eating dinner at my parents' house we made it home. Home to a dark house WITHOUT POWER! No joke! We lit candles and lanterns. Lincoln cried because he was afraid. I tried to reinforce the idea that we were having an ADVENTURE (to no avail). Ben got the kids settled in bed and I took care of Sam. It was a crazy first night, but a memorable one. I snuggled that little baby close for hours. Loving him. Smelling him. And thanking Heavenly Father for a very precious little boy.

He's been a dream for the three weeks we've had him (we're hoping it stays that way).
Life is a little sweeter with Sammy in our home.
He just fits.
And we're absolutely in love with him!

Adoration.

2011-10-04T15:00:00.000-06:00

This is pretty much what happens all day long at our house, as of late.
Make-out sessions with Sam.
Hmm, "make-out" sounds a little too crass.
Babies are too sweet for that.
Extended periods of extreme expressions of love.
That's better.
More wholesome.

We are loving this babe to pieces.
Surprisingly, he seems to enjoy never-ending kisses, hugs, snuggles, in-your-face-ness, and, if we're honest, a whole lotta bad breath (not me, of course . . . the kiddos).

A baby carries with it some magical essence that fills every inch of a house with love.
A baby's secret weapon.
I'd forgotten that.

Watching my kids emote--yes, emote--so much love is tender and at times, exasperating.
I'm extremely careful, however, to keep my exasperation in check
(aka I don't exasperate in front of the kids).
I want the kids to love freely.
To feel like Sam is very much "theirs" as well as "mine."
That way, we're always a team.

Well, gotta go.
DQ run with the kiddos.
We're celebrating: Annie was the first student to arrive at preschool this morning . . . ON TIME, too.
This is the first time I've been ON TIME for anything since I've been without Mom's help.
I'm slowly finding my groove.
For some reason, NURSING and ETERNITY seem to go together.
Or, maybe I should say nursing FOR eternity.
I never plan well when it comes to nursing.
Baby steps, right?

Introducing . . .

2011-10-01T22:03:00.001-06:00

Have you ever had a moment, an experience that was so precious, almost TOO precious that you weren't ready to share it with the world right away? Since having this sweet little baby on September 15th, I've lived in a cocoon of the sweetest love. This is my precious moment.

Samuel Louis Carter.

"Sammy" to the kids and Ben.

We love him. So much.

More details to come.

Soon.

I promise.

A new era.

2011-09-14T08:54:00.000-06:00

In MY day it was MC Hammer pants, Milli Vanilli, BIG bangs, Debbie Gibson and Tiffany, slap braclets, jellies, Kid Sister, Jem, Garbage Pail Kids, Pogo Balls, Charles in Charge, Small Wonder, Reebok Pumps, Atari, etc. Are the memories and music flooding into your minds yet? Good times.

There's a new trend amongst the boys at school. It's called EVIL MINIONS. For some odd reason, my kids have a fascination with little people, i.e. dwarfism. They and their friends become evil mini-minions at school. Boys are WEIRD! They think it's the coolest thing and all I think about is how much they're stretching out their new school shirts. It cracks me up.

I'm sure my mother shook her head a time or two about my antics, as well. Life is so entertaining sometimes.

Now, camo, plaid, and tan knee-high church socks . . . together?! Those are TIMELESS. I'm sure I saw a few of those in MY day, too. Some things never change. Heh.

Life's randomness.

2011-09-12T11:29:00.000-06:00

There are always those little moments, aren't there?

I wanted to get them on the ol' blog because they make me happy.
Like Brigham's homeade flag and festive outfit for the first BYU football game of the season.
Or Will and Lincoln reading amongst the ~~mess~~ fort on the patio.
I couldn't get enough of Ben letting Annie cut his hair. She was DYING (can you tell?).
Or the delight that ALL the kids still want to be a part of EVERYTHING we do (i.e. juicing our choke cherries for syrup).
I think it's because we just have each other pretty much ALL the time.
Country life means scheduled play dates.
(Which, honestly, rarely happens. Call me lazy, or, a selfish mother. Sometimes, I just don't want to share my kiddos with anyone else . . . both--lazy and selfish--would be true, depending on the day:)).

Aside from the randomness, my dad and I are looking at washing machines today!
Big sale at Sears . . . (the front-loader is within my grasp).
I thought I was going to have this baby on Saturday, but everything stopped (yes, I cried).
The doctor said I was dilated to 4cm on Friday.
That's hopeful, but, really, doesn't mean much because I could stay that way for another week, I'm sure (kill me, now).
Annie and I are taking an EXTENSIVE walk in a few minutes.
I keep wishing I had a jump rope . . . that could really help:).

The end/beginning is in sight. I am SO excited to get ME back. I've felt so grouchy, impatient, not fun...at all, for awhile now. I can't wait to run and play and jump around and be silly and crazy with my kids again. I really miss that. I'm sure they do, too.

A joyful beginning and a hopeful demise.

2011-09-07T09:25:00.001-06:00

Annie was BESIDE herself.
She waited for THIS day for over a year.
She kept asking, "How many more 'sleeps' 'til preschool?"
(My good friend (thanks, Shannon) shared the "sleeps" idea with me.
It has really helped Annie and Lincoln grasp the concept of days.)

It finally happened.
Yesterday.
The FIRST day of Magical Moments Preschool.
By the look on her face when I picked her up,
I'd say she had a few magical moments.
Brimming with excitement.
It was contagious, I felt her happiness.

(The happiness slowly wore off, however, as I hauled LOADS of laundry to Mom's house. The timing was horrifically impeccable for our washing machine to break. I'm not sure I need ONE MORE unplanned expense. On the bright side, I think I'm converted to front-loading washing machines. I had no idea how many more clothes they hold! And they're so CUTE. Is it evil of me to hope that my machine is "totaled"?)

LOVE that girl.

2011-09-05T11:55:00.000-06:00

Just ONE of a million reasons why my heart bursts with love for this . . . this . . . um . . . Fashionista.

BIG news.

2011-09-05T11:50:00.000-06:00

Friday was my 38 week appointment.
The doctor said, "Hmm, this is going to be a BIG baby."
"Great," I said, obviously full of sarcasm. "How big is BIG?"
"Well, expectant mothers are usually as right as their doctors when it comes to predictions, so, how much do you think this baby will weigh?"
I knew my biggest baby was William, 9 lbs. All the others were 7-8 lbs.
SO, I said, "9 lbs. 3 oz?"
"Oh, no, no, I'd say AT LEAST 9 lbs. 9 oz."
WHOA.
Not the news I wanted to hear. That's big.
I left the doctor's office feeling even bigger than when I arrived.
It's all psychological, isn't it?

I was about to wallow in the depths of despair,
AND THEN, I had a thought that saved me.
A ray of hope.
If this baby is as big as he says (or bigger), that's THAT MUCH more weight to come off once he's born!
I can handle that.
In fact, a little tinge of excitement coursed through me . . .
just a tinge, mind you, because, somehow, this chubba-bubba has to pass through the birth canal, first!

I'm in the home stretch. I'm trying to keep my chin up. Trying to be tough.
I CAN do this.
I'm no whimp.
9 lbs. 9 oz. or more, this little chunk WILL NOT hang out in this womb forever:).

The buddy system.

2011-08-31T22:08:00.001-06:00

(Check out that smug little grin.)

Some things are impossible to plan for.
They just happen.

I was exercising, half-way done, pushing Annie in the bike stroller when Trixie, one of the friendly farm dogs down the road, joins the party. Without warning, she hops into the stroller planting herself right beside Annie! I didn't know what to do. My first instinct was to shew her away, force her out. But, It was so funny and Annie was so delighted, that I let her stay, just to see what she'd do. I thought she'd get bored and hop right down. Oh, no. She just sat there, like an obedient child, still and calm. Annie petted her and cooed at her and loved on her, I guess she'd be a fool NOT to stay.

She hung around until we got home. I'm sure I pushed her at least 1.5 miles. What a joke, completely spontaneous and random! It was a bright spot in our day. Annie kept talking about it and couldn't wait to tell everyone at dinner. The boys were extremely jealous, which made Annie all the more delighted with her good fortune. Impressing older siblings is not the easiest thing to do. Believe me, my life was spent TRYING to impress mine, but those moments were few and far between. We have to seize the glory when it comes. She was a pro.

Attempted-Huckleberrying (sounds like a crime, doesn't it?).

2011-08-30T22:20:00.003-06:00

There is something stunning about every landscape in our country. They're all so different, yet so beautiful, and I guess you can appreciate it most if you remove comparisons. Just enjoying them for what they are. Mountains, beaches, deserts, rolling hills, farmland, etc.

(Hmm, that's a lot like people, too. Have you ever noticed that everyone is beautiful if you're not comparing them to someone else's beauty. I've tried it--just looking at someone without them knowing--and I can see beauty in eveyone when I look for it. Okay, that sounds a little strange when it's written down, but it's true, in a I-stare-at-random-people sort of way.)

We pass through beautiful country as we head for the hills to pick huckleberries, jumping from amber waves of grain to forests of pine, all in a matter of minutes. A windows-down, take the truck, experience. Once we're off the beaten path, in the woods, dirt roads, the kids climb into the truck bed. Oh, happy day! This is my idea of a down-home, good time. Life feels simple and whole.

As romantic as the trip sounds, our huckleberrying was NOT so idealistic. We were late this year. By about two weeks. Thank goodness Ben is so enthusiastic when it comes to picking berries because we all would have whined the entire time without him. Huckleberries are about the size of peas. It takes a LONG time to fill the bottom of a bucket. And guess what (drumroll, please) . . . we (8 of us, Mom and Dad came along) picked ALMOST three cups worth. How sad is that? And even more sad when I admit that I DROPPED my bucket and crawled in the dirt to retrieve all of thirty berries that were picked through blood, sweat, and tears.

Oh, well.
It's about the experience, right?
We had fun.
We were surrounded by beauty.
We were together.
That's what matters.
(And I mastered the art of, ahem, going potty behind trees. Too much information, I know, but, for a girl,a very PREGNANT girl, that's no small feat.)

Time for a turn around.

2011-08-26T21:35:00.002-06:00

(There was a fire in the desert west of us. The smoky haze made the sky so beautiful.)

Well, the sun DID come out today!
And, it was a great day.

I was visiting with my mom this afternoon, talking about how I felt physically, emotionally, etc.
She said, among many other things,
"Well, Netty, I haven't heard you sound this negative in a LONG time."
She didn't say it to hurt my feelings.
She's Mom.
She loves me.
She has genuine sympathy for my discomfort.
BUT, it got me thinking.

There really IS so much good all around me.
Sometimes when I'm hurting or consumed by my own problems,
I fail to look outside myself.
Tunnel vision.
I lost perspective and needed a gentle reminder.
It worked.
I'm starting a "power of positive thinking" workshop for myself.
Time to get that glass half-full again.
So, here we go.
I'm pretty excited:).

Night of the living dead starring Myself.

2011-08-25T21:29:00.000-06:00

(We have officially retired the WOG. Even just walking my normal route is uncomfortable. Annie caught me unawares this morning, however, I saw my ankles in this picutre and thought they didn't look too bad . . . YET.)

Remember what I said in my last post about sleeping better than I had in days?
Well, heh, THAT was short-lived.
Last night was probably one of the worst nights ever (okay, maybe a little too extreme. Maybe not)!
I can't remember the last time I said to myself, sleepless, desperate, exhausted,
"I'd be better off dead."
Isn't that awful?
It was said, mind you, with a hint of sarcasm, but the need for my misery to end was real.

What made it even worse was that no one was awake to feel sorry for me.
("Cry me a river, Lanette." Go ahead and say it.)
I know that assuming martyr status is totally counterproductive.
Consider it a whopping moment of weakness.
Or--closer to the truth--a whopping moment of hormonal overload.
I am clinging to the fact that this discomfort will end shortly.
However, 3.5 weeks feels like an eternity to me at present.

Everyone has their own personal struggles when it comes to having babies.
Some are horrifically sick the entire nine months.
Some have major body pains.
Some have horrible deliveries.
Some have horrible postpartum issues.
The list goes on.

My personal struggle is the sleepless nights.
The emotional wreck that is MYSELF due to sleepless nights.
(Thus, my issues last night. A precurser of things to come.)
I LOVE my sleep.
It is SO hard for me to sacrifice it with a joyful heart.
(It's more akin to cutting off my arms and legs:))
But, I LOOOVVVEE my babies more.
I do it, yes, but I have yet to find the joy.
I am far from perfect.

I finally got to sleep at 3 AM (I tried going to bed @ 8:45 PM).
It's amazing what a relief morning can be.
Not that anything changed, just the start of a new day.
A little sun peeking through the clouds.
Tangible hope.
Thank heavens for Tommorows.
I should start belting out Annie's "Tommorow."
Those were my sentiments this morning.
And now, I'm ready for bed again.
Keep your fingers crossed.
A more pleasant Lanette is bound to return.

Here we go again . . .

2011-08-24T19:28:00.003-06:00

(I always count on William to liven up any picture. In this case, it looks more like he needs a potty-break. Go figure.)

I always send my kids back to school with an aching heart.
I love having them home with me in the summer.
I love the closeness.
I love the feeling of little bodies all around,
busy and excited and, yes, even troublesome at times.
I love the energy of a full home.
It makes me so happy (and, at times, totally crazy).

It's amazing how all the old routines fall into place as if the summer never happened.
I felt like I'd never stopped waking up at 6:20 to get breakfast going.
I felt like I'd never stopped helping Lincoln find his backpack and a clean pair of socks.
I felt like I'd never stopped reminding the boys to brush their teeth.
(Some try to slip out the door with dragon-breath . . . gross, I know.)
Yet, I fight to keep my care-free summer memories alive.
Or, maybe it's a fight to keep the Me from summer alive.
I like my summer-self.
More than my school days-self.

This past week I've dreaded going to bed.
I usually lay there totally uncomfortable and grouchy as Ben ~~snores~~ slumbers away.
He makes it look so easy.
So, last night I walked on the treadmill . . . at 10:30 PM.
I thought, If I'm going to be awake, I might as well burn some calories.
Then, I pitter-pattered around my house doing absolutely nothing.
Eventually, I went outside and sat on my front porch steps.
We're going on 11:30.
I just sat there and looked at the stars.
I followed an airplane, lights flashing, clear across the sky from east to west until I couldn't see it anymore.
I thought about my kids.
About the special fathers-blessing Ben gave each of them that night, preparing them for school the next day.
I thought about this baby.
I realized that I hadn't taken time to really look at the stars, alone, for a VERY long time.
I caught a glimpse of one shooting star.
I felt at peace.
As much as I LOVE people, talking, visiting, enjoying their company,
I LOVE being alone, too.
Everyone needs time alone.

But, all amazingly peaceful, cherishable moments must come to an end.
I figured if I was going to resemble a well-rested mother,
ready to excitedly send my lovies off to school with a smile,
I better get to bed.
I said goodnight to my stars.
I turned off the lamp.
Started the dishwasher.
And fell asleep faster than I had in days.
I didn't even take my nightly 2 TUMS (THAT's a big deal).
We survived day 1.
I wonder what tommorow will bring?

It's a boy thing.

2011-08-23T11:53:00.000-06:00

The boys started football.
Flag football.
Brigham COULD have played tackle this year, but--much to his father's chagrin and his mother's relief--
he chose to play flag.
The wisdom of youth.
If you ask me, I think it's ridiculous to have kids play tackle football when they're in 4th grade.
Let them be kids!
Just my opinion.

There's an up-side to this football stuff.
Football is Ben's baby.
He revels in the glory and nostalga of his state-championship winning high school football days.
He was good.
He's waited a long time for his boys to start playing.
Every night they go outside and work on plays.
Yes, PLAYS.
They say things that I don't understand.
"Streak."
"Quickie."
"Down and in."
"Button hook."
And I LOVE watching.
They have so much fun together.
And I get to see my boys trying so hard, looking like little studly teenage boys with their fancy footwork.
It's cute.
They're cute.

Games start in September.
Don't you love football games in the fall?
They go together.
I can almost smell the crisp, autumn air.
The smell of burning leaves.
The taste of hot-chocolate.
So good.

Adventure.

2011-08-23T11:29:00.000-06:00

As I get closer to having this baby, my energy to be a "fun" mom wanes.
I'm glad to have Mother-Nature on my side.
I took the kids on a hike with a few of their friends.
That way they could exert themselves and explore and make a raucous and . . .
I wouldn't care.
The world has better sound control and is more spot-resistant than my house.
I needed that on this particular day.
Something magical--with potential for disaster--happens when boys and fresh air collide.
They needed that on this particular day.

I had a few misgivings.
Genius that I am,
I chose to hike during the hottest time of day, 1-3 PM.
I also failed to take into account that there was a lot of uphill-ness to this family-friendly hike.
On more than one occassion I thought to myself,
"This would reallly stink if I put myself into labor."
"Please stay put, baby."
"Not your smartest idea, to be sure."

BUT, we made it.
Annie and I took our time, while I prayed that the boys wouldn't fall off a precipice.
Two hours later, covered in mud, we made it back to the car.
We were off to get an ice-cream cone with half of my kids in their undies and a t-shirt.
(Some of my children have more self-restraint than others when it comes to mud.)
Isn't summer grand?

Sword-wielding.

2011-08-23T10:55:00.000-06:00

You never know when you might need a sword.
Even a family game can get dangerous.
"BE PREPARED," scouts would say.
Truth be told,
Lincoln is ALWAYS prepared.
I'm grateful to usually be in his good graces.
I wouldn't want to lose a limb . . . .

Teachers.

2011-08-23T10:45:00.000-06:00

I was so worried about my kids' teachers this year.
It seemed like EVERY mom wrote a teacher request letter at the end of last year.
I didn't.
I feel like kids should learn to adapt and adjust, no matter who their teacher is.
That's reality.
The real world is not so generous when it comes to getting your way.
(If there was some EXTREME circumstance, then yes, I'd request. But there wasn't.)
What if we got stuck with the teacher "nobody wants"?
I was nervous all summer (when I let myself think about it).

All I could do was pray that my kids got teachers who would be best for them:
Someone they could learn from.
Someone who would challenge them.
Someone they could respect.
Someone who would inspire them.

With MUCH trepidation I walked up to the posted listings.
First, Lincoln's teacher.
If I worry about anyone and his relationship with a teacher, it's Lincoln.
Hallelujah, we SCORED!
I LOVE his teacher.
She will be great with my little warrior-boy.
I am so excited for him.
SHE is the one I would have requested.

And, as luck would have it (or Providence:)),
each of my kids' teachers were the ones I would have chosen for them!
I was so happy.
I'm usually not that lucky.
EVER.
I was so excited for them.
I have high hopes for a tremendous school year.

I guess we'll find out TOMMOROW (yikes)!

p.s. The funniest thing happened as I took this picture. Where's Lincoln? Well, he decided he was a dog that day. He'd tied himself, around his waist, to his seat belt with a 20 ft. length of rope. When we got to the school ALL the kids jumped out of the car and took off. Lincoln TRIED to do the same, forgetting he was tied up and WHAM, he was totally yanked backwards, landing on his bum! Poor kid, it was the most hilarious thing I'd ever seen. I'm glad he laughed instead of crying because I couldn't keep myself from laughing. Kids do the darndest things, don't they?

SUN-day.

2011-08-14T22:21:00.003-06:00

The road to peace begins outdoors.
At least, that's how it works in our family.

Perhaps it's the combination of closeness without being too close.
(Sunshine and a little fresh air don't hurt either.)
We love each other, to be sure.
But, if there is a body close by, what kid can resist pinching another sibling?
Soon pinches have a tendancy to, ahem, evolve . . . if you know what I mean.
I don't care HOW much you love each other.
Kids will be kids.

Outside we go.
All six of us.
Somehow we manage to work out the kinks.
Somehow we all end up laughing.

Like when we went around a circle saying kind things about each other,
and William says--in all innocence, mind you--"Well, um, Lincoln's good at hurting people."
Granted, we all laughed, even Lincoln, until he realized what was said.
Then he grumbled, "Stop it, guys."
This comment came after a particularly difficult "self-control day" for my sweet warrior, Lincoln.

All was quickly forgotten.
We moved on.
And laughed some more,
all the while devouring a homeade chocolate cake Brigham made this morning.

I love when we can be together,
unrushed,
relaxed,
no demands.
I catch glimpses of my kids as they really are--
Their natural selves in all their uniqueness,
because we're all free to be who we are.
Just enjoying each other.

Those are precious and enlightening times.
Precious, because those are the moments that draw our kids towards us.
That help us all WANT to be together.
That solidify family traditions.
And, enlightening, because, as their mother, I get to see each of them comfortable enough just being themselves.
Knowing and understanding them helps me to meet their needs more effectively and certainly, a little more like Heavenly Father would.
I get to know them as the neat little people they are, in the process of becoming the neat people they'll BE.
Perspective, I guess.

All in all, I'd say pretty cool stuff happens on a Sunday afternoon.

1-2-3 HEAVE!

2011-08-13T22:18:00.002-06:00

(Okay, not the most flattering of pictures. I now have a vague idea of what I'd look like bald . . . and pregnant . . . and eating raw peas at the boys' football practice this morning.)

Well, folks, I thought this day would never come.
Somehow, I fooled myself into believing I was different from 99% of the pregnant population.
Full of energy and vigor to the very end.
Jokes on me . . . completely.

Perhaps some of my exhaustion is from weeks of family get-togethers.
Perhaps its just reality--I AM pregnant.
And my body is tired.
And swollen.
And vein-ridden.
And stretching (sometimes my belly-button just hurts).
And weak.
And . . . miraculously creating a beautiful little life.

Every morning as I heave myself out of bed (heaving is NO exaggeration) and stand half-bent, taking my first labored steps to the bathroom, I am reminded that, at times, even love can feel almost too heavy to bear up.

Yet I can't deny the coolness that without my doing anything (except living the day to day), there's a BABY growing inside of me. Miracle. Seriously.

I guess I better heave myself into bed and make this heaving come full-circle--out of bed and back in again. I'd hate to miss out on a full experience. Wah-hah, tell me another one, Lanette.

Sweet dreams, All. Until tommorow, when the heaving begins . . . again.

p.s. for those more curious souls, here's my definition of heaving: whilst lying in bed, raising one's leg straight up and catapulting it down, thereby using momentum to thrust my upper-half up into a sitting position. Not pretty . . . trust me on this one.

When we're helping, we're happy.

2011-08-12T23:04:00.002-06:00

"When we're helping, we're happy."
It sounds trite.
It is SO true.

A family garden is the answer (one of many . . . I'm sure).

I don't claim any awards for our garden this year.
I'd say half success, half disaster.
I'm focusing on the success-part.
I'll tackle the disaster later.
"After all, tommorow is another day."
I'll thank Scarlett O'Hara for giving me permission.

There's something magical about kids and gardens.
Sharing the moments of wonder that we actually planted something and IT GREW never get old.
I want my kids to have that memory.
I want them to want to create those moments with their own families.

I've made my own memories, too.
Every morning I've waddled to the garden after my walks . . . or wogs.
I have LOVED checking our plants, all the while cracking open pea pods and snacking.
The kids are usually asleep and I have a few moments to myself.
I'm still nerdy enough to feel surprise that I can eat something we've grown ourselves.
Go figure, you plant a seed and--HOLY COW--something actually happens!

I know they say, Home is where the heart is, and that's totally true; however, I feel like the Lord has given us a taste of paradise in our little country life. Who knows if we'll stay here forever (I wish)? Life is so uncertain, BUT, you better believe that I'm going to suck every last ounce of goodness out of these country roads and quiet, starry nights.
I don't take it for granted.
This place has given me time to discover myself.
It's taught me the value of peace.
Can you feel the gratitude oozing out of my soul?
No joke, OOZING.
Okay, maybe oozing isn't the best word choice, but, oh well, I'm having a baby in 4 weeks.
I deserve a break, right?

We be jammin' . . .

2011-08-11T15:29:00.001-06:00

The past few weeks have been JAM-PACKED with family.
I've discovered an equation: oodles of family time = not so much blog.
But, oh, am I excited to update and post pictures!
I'm starting backwards.
My yesterday.
The first evening in weeks with JUST our little family.
And what did we do?
Nap?
Recover?
NO.
We picked raspberries to our hearts content (and right across the street to boot)!

Times like that fill me clear up with love for my little family.
Everyone is happy.
Everyone is working.
(Everyone (Lincoln) is taking my camera so I can't take any pictures of said picking, but later, discovered a whole lotta hollyhock pictures.)
Everyone is enjoying each other.
Everyone speaks in hyperboles,
"MY bucket is OVERFLOWING!" (Hmm...and so is your tummy)
"I have enough to feed our family through the WINTER!"
"I have raspberrries coming out my EYEBALLS!"
etc.
JOY, joy, joy.

We slaved away this morning making jam because Ben left for a 3-day campout with the boy scouts after lunch. Ben happens to be the JAM-MAN. He makes it happen around here. Sweet fella.

The summer is passing before my eyes.
I'm not ready.
School starts in 12 days.
I'm not ready to let go of my little lovelies.
Will everyone join me in one BIG nostalgic sigh?
Ready?
Go!
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh . . ."
Thanks.

The good guy always wins . . . or not.

2011-07-26T23:21:00.001-06:00

I just read the neatest thing.
Well, I loved how it was said.
I have a strange sort of love affair with words.
(Don't tell Ben. He may get jealous.)
Here it is:

"A man's character is the reality of himself. His reputation is the opinion others have formed of him. Character is in him; reputation is from other people. Character is the substance, reputation is the shadow." --Henry Ward Beecher

When I read this I thought about my kids. My desire for my children is that they become people of strong moral character. The essence of who they are. If I can help them develop the character part, hopefullly, the reputation will take care of itself. I can't control that.

We've had a lot of soccer games where the kids said over and over again that the other team was cheating. Pulling jersies, tripping, etc. Or they'll talk about what someone else did and how they got away with it to come out on top (at the expense of his integrity). Kids (not all, but many) are so concerned about winning and losing and who has the upper hand.

Unfortunately, the one who plays by the rules DOESN'T always come out on top. That can be a tough lesson to learn for a kid (and even for an adult).

How do you keep a child focused on the principle instead of the result? Especially if it happens over and over again and the good guy falls short result-wise, but successful principle-wise? That's the trick. They need to feel that doing the right thing was worth it.

I figure in the end, God with deal out the comeuppance. Kids, however, have a shorter line of sight. They'd like immediate retribution.

This reality is one of those character-building lessons. I have to hope that God will fill them up with good feelings, strong enough to carry them through those moments of missed glory or success. Strong enough to form a lasting, strong, solid, moral conviction. Strong enough that their chartacter becomes a strength and an asset.

Basically, I just want them to be like Abraham Lincoln. Random, I know, but he fits the mold.

It's crazy how my mind constantly tosses and turns about my kiddos and my hopes for them. And yet, ironically, they have absolutely NO IDEA how much they consume my thoughts. If they did, I'm sure they'd never say things like, "You hate me" or "You don't really care about me."

Ahh, if they only knew.

If they only knew. . . .

2011-07-25T23:02:00.002-06:00

I've never had success blowing up a tiny water balloon with air.
Just thinking about it makes my cheeks burn and the blood vessels in my brain fret.
Do you know the feeling?
Futility.
There's nothing fun about it.

It's like me trying to walk normal at 10 PM, without waddling.
Hah, nice try!
Futility. Again.
Just thinking about THAT makes me realize that I AM as pregnant as I really am.

OR, trying to teach Lincoln that it's NOT OKAY to hit unless someone's kidnapping you . . . .
Sometimes that can feel pretty futile.
I have visions of Lincoln's greatness.
But for now, my mantra is:
"channel for good, channel for good, channel for good."

As with most things that are really important . . . and really ~~hard~~ tricky, I just keep trying.
(Except the water balloon. I've pretty much given up on that.)
I've realized I'm grateful to have things to work on.
And it's a good thing because, boy, oh, boy, do I have a lot to work on!

So, "joy in the journey" and "come what may, and love it" take on renewed meaning for me.

I love a good challenge.

It's working.

2011-07-22T13:05:00.002-06:00

Bust open the bubbly!
(Sparkling cider, please.)
We have cause for celebration.

I went to the Dr. for my 32 week appointment.   I'm not sure if I've mentioned that I NEVER look at the scale when they weigh me. Never. Numbers, I hate them. I just don't want to know. I have a wild imagination and can take myself to not-so-friendly places about my body image. I know I am too hard on myself sometimes.

Now, this announcement may not be too exciting to many of you. But to me, I am joyful. The Dr. said that everything looked great and healthy, BUT he ALSO said, "You've gained 30 lbs. so far this pregnancy." I was so happy to hear that! I wanted to jump in the air and shout, but, lady that I am (heh, heh), I kept my cool . . . and my legs crossed. I'm used to hearing numbers in the 50's (THAT'S why I don't look at the scale).

When I committed to this exercise/water stuff, I was testing my body to see if anything different happened. If I STILL gained tons of weight, than I'd know it's just what my body does. If I didn't gain as much weight, than I'd know that I have to work really, really hard whenever I'm pregnant. Hello, you've been pregnant 4x already, shouldn't you have learned that by now? In my defense, I had so many needy little ones at once that I was just keeping my head above the water. I didn't have time to scrutinize my pregnancy history. I had noses to wipe, diapers to change, mouths to feed, etc. This four year spread has given me that time.

I still have 8 weeks left. A lot can happen in 8 weeks. BUT, I felt so hopeful that this postpartum bod will resume it's regular shape in a more timely manner than it has in the past. That I won't have to beat myself up so much. That there's a light at the end of the skin-stretched-jello-tummy tunnel.

I feel validated that my hard work is paying off. All my efforts aren't in vain . . . and I'm just really grateful.

You may think that I focus too much on this stuff, physical appearance. You may be right. But I know my history. I know how I feel after having babies.  I know the emotional roller coaster I ride when things STILL don't fit (and my baby is 12 months old). And I don't like it. At all. I don't want to feel that way.

I'm a better mother, a happier mother, a healthier mother when I feel fit. THAT'S important to me. It's not for anyone else. I'm not aspiring for magazine covers (yeah, right). I want to feel beautiful (as a woman, I know I'm not alone in that desire), and by that, I mean a healthy beautiful. A realistic beautiful. A wholesome beautiful. Physical and emotional fitness go hand in hand for me.  One affects the other. Balance.

Well, I feel like I should welcome you to the inner-workings of my soul:). You just had a taste of it. Can we STILL be friends:)?

Wog.

2011-07-20T13:35:00.001-06:00

(Do your best to avoid the stilt stuck in the bush behind me, as well as the lone shoe, which isn't ours, oh, and the mosquito bites on my legs. I saved you the trouble of avoiding my poor, vein-laden right leg. I subconsciously covered it up with my hands. Bless you, subconscious. You are a true friend.)

Do you wog?
I'm thinkin' I might be the creator of a new colloquialism for pregnant women everywhere.

Wog: v. Walking interspersed with moments of hilarious--but diligent--jogging, usually displayed by third trimester pregnant women trying to stay in shape. Such sights are most commonly followed by prolonged periods of laughter by those witnessing said wogging. Be kind. Wait 'til they pass to laugh.

I wog. My body is fickle. Some mornings I feel like I could run and run and run (that's being a little too generous. EDIT: jog and jog and jog). Others I just have to walk. I get so bored walking, or maybe it's that I feel like I'm not as effective when I walk. I want a full body workout. I'd be happy with a full rear-end workout. I need to learn how to walk fast in a way that tones my bum. Maybe I'll google it? If you know, TELL ME!

I've learned something about myself this pregnancy. I thought I was a consistent exerciser with my other pregnancies. I thought I drank a lot of water. I didn't. Not compared with this time. I'm proud to say that I'm consistently wogging 6 days a week with a light walk on Sunday. I'm drinking (or ice-chewing) water all day long. Going potty all day long. Annoying? Yes. But, my swollen ankles are grateful and I can tell a difference in my skin and overall wellness. I feel really great and I attribute it to those two things, daily exercise and water, specifically. Wait, the sun helps, too. Early morning sunrises are so motivating. I want to be out there soaking it up before the kiddos are awake. It's my time to think things through. Just me, myself, and I. I relish my mornings. I'm not sure I'd be as consistent if it was the middle of winter. Dark and cold and Lanette just don't go together.

p.s. Wogging isn't exclusive to pregnant people. Join the movement. However, I bet you'll look a lot more suave than I do. And, . . . that would make me jealous. SO, no wogging on my road . . . OR ELSE (unless your 9 months pregnant).

Happy Wednesday!

Finding my true self . . . again.

2011-07-19T10:47:00.001-06:00

I know that life is a series of learning experiences.
We figure out some great life-lesson and then learn and relearn that lesson in diffrerent ways because life is ALWAYS changing.
And without fail, there is ALWAYS something to learn.

Over the past few weeks I found myself turning into a freakish nazi-mom. I'm not exaggerating! It was all in the name of self-preservation. I felt this dictatorial force come over me. I needed absolute control because I couldn't handle a mess or an idea different from my own. Here was my mindset: don't ask any more from me than I am giving. Be grateful with what you have. Don't whine. Don't complain. Do what I tell you, or you're dead meat (figuratively, of course). Zero tolerance. They would ask to do things and I would say NO, 90% of the time. My poor kids. Innocent victims to their crazy mother's tirades and unrighteous dominion:).

The more I look at it, I'm thinking hormones must have played a roll. A big roll. But at the time it just felt like life. Like this was the person I was morphing into. YIKES. I felt mean . . . because I was. Isn't that sad? My poor kids, I'm sure, were wondering where their fun, spontaneous mother had gone and if she'd ever come back.

Well, I think I am. Back, that is. In quiet moments with myself I kept asking, WHY? Why are you needing this control? Why are you angry and mean for no reason? Why can't you just love and let it go? Why can't you remember that they are KIDS, for crying out loud? And then I felt this heavy weight of guilt that I was, little by little, pushing my kids away from me, instead of drawing them towards me. That was scary. They ARE my life. They ARE my joy. And I lost sight of that . . . temporarily.

I woke up yesterday with a fresh perspective. Finding charity again. Real charity. Loving with the Lord's help. I hadn't been asking for His help. I was trying to carry it myself. That NEVER works. Duh. I know that. And the miracle of it all is that when I ASK for His help, he gives it. Freely. It's not hard because He WANTS to help . . . if I'll just ask. Duh, again. And the days are better. The challenges of each day are there, but my ability to consistently handle them effectively and with love is VASTLY improved.

So, goodbye, nazi-mom. Hello, Me! Glad to have you back.

Family Ties.

2011-07-18T10:27:00.001-06:00

Look at those sweet faces.
That's the joy of family.
Of cousins who come to visit once a year, and, therefore, it's always a BIG DEAL.
Losing-sleep-because-of-excitement-big-deal.

My brother's family is moving to Oregon and left the littlest three of their brood with us while they got settled.
Us, meaning Mom, Dad, and my fam.
I don't think I was supposed to be involved in that equation, but, life happens.
Surgery, car troubles, temple service, life . . .
It's fun to be around.
That's a BIG BONUS of living close to Gma and Gpa.
We get to see everyone when they come to visit, too.

We've had our share of adventures.
Emotional (getting used to each other) and exploratory (like setting off fire alarms:)).
But, family ties are strong and, instantly, everyone is friends again.
Funny how that works.
Thank goodness it does.
(Why isn't it that easy for adults? Kids are a wonder.)

Already my kids are wondering how they'll survive without cousins when they leave on Tuesday.
They took comfort from the fact that more are on their way THIS weekend.
Boy, we're in for some GOOD TIMES.
AND, more emotional and exploratory adventures.
I'm sure of it.
23 grandkids . . .
I can almost taste the adventure.

Project: concentration.

2011-07-15T15:31:00.000-06:00

Our summer is full.
My kiddos love crafts.
Anything hands-on.
Anything messy (for me, heh).
Anything that makes them feel useful and creative.
I found the greatest models the kids could put together and paint for $1.99.
It was well worth it.
I love watching my kids in their own little world.
Their faces are so truthful because they are oblivous to being watched,
OR photographed (I kept taking pictures).
Creativity fascinates me.
Kids fascinate me (and drive me crazy and fill me up and wear me out and make me happy...all at once.)
That's the wonder. A wonder I couldn't imagine my life without.