Dear Bev

Our sweet adopted Grandma Bev is far away in Spokane in a hospital awaiting her second surgery this week. I tried calling her on Sunday, hoping she was recovering at home, but I just got the answering machine. Today she messaged me on facebook expressing how much she loves reading my blog from the hospital. It made me feel bad that I can't go and visit her and tell her all about my kids and the funny things they do. So, from now on, my blog entries are dedicated to her... things I would share with her if I was sitting next to her bedside. And because this is already typed up and easy to copy and paste to my blog, it will be first.

This paragraph below was a PS. on the end of my parents' email this week. They have been serving a couples mission in Concepcion, Chile for the past 18 months. They will come home in 50 days! Anyway, I thought you would find this story amusing... I laughed so hard, I cried. Especially because I could picture my Dad's hearty laugh as he was typing it.. hope you enjoy!

We went to a talent show at the ward and a member with a big hat sat next to us. He thought it was a barbeque and brought his own meat in a plastic bag. It was ready to cook and had sauce on it. Of course we didn't have a barbeque like he thought. He was a little embarrassed about it so he put it under his hat. He sang at the talent show and got up a lot and put it on the chair next to me. A lady wanted to sit down next to me and lifted up the hat to sit down. She didn't see the meat in the bag because it was a little dark. I knew what was going to happen, so I put my hand out to stop her. I touched her back side to warn her. She still sat on the meat anyway but jumped up fast when I tried to stop her. I could not help but start laughing. Mom didn't know what happened but I told her later. The lady asked me if it was mine and of course, I said no. The bag started to leak so when the man came back he had to get some napkins to clean it up. That was the funniest thing and I still laugh about it. I had to get a picture of the man and his hat. He didn't know why I wanted the picture. I am laughing so much now, I can't finish this. Good Bye, Dad

This was my response to my Dad's email--

Dad, the meat story was hysterical... I had tears from laughing so hard. Aaron wanted to know what was so funny but I couldn't read it out loud.

Did he think it was Steak Conference? So glad you got a picture of the hat. But I wish you would have asked the lady if you could snap one of her back side. Hope Mom wasn't jealous.

Miss you!

~janet

it's always the kids' fault

today I realized the only reason I have problems is because I have kids. That realization made me feel so much better about my life.

Saturday I taught a blogging class. I think it went well. I didn't prepare much. I just showed up, talked about my love for journaling and the importance of documenting the little things. I was able to answer every question thrown my way. I am the first to tell you I am not an expert, but I know a lot when it comes to this blogging world. I loved staying after the class and talking in computer geek language. lt felt like a small piece of me came back after speaking in html code.

I came home from the class and got to work! First I scrubbed down my kitchen and prepared meals for Sunday. Then I cleaned out under my kids beds. I am missing a music CD from the library and just knew it was under one of their beds. Unfortunately, I didn't find it and ended up pulling a muscle in my neck/shoulder. I thought the kink would go away after a good nights sleep, but I woke up on Sunday unable to move. I kid you not when I say I was almost paralyzed. It was the craziest (and one of the most painful) experiences. I literally could not hold my baby or turn my head. I spent the entire day with a hot pad on my neck. Aaron took the kids to church solo while i soaked in a blazing hot bath and took a long nap. So glad I prepared yummy food and cleaned on saturday! I was completely useless to my family. I eventually took a heavy painkiller and a friend's prescription muscle relaxer and was able to sleep well last night. yay for drugs!

Although I woke up sore this morning, I was able to hold Romy girl and that was a huge improvement. This afternoon, my sweet friend took my babies to her house while I was supposed to rest, but instead I cleaned out closets and vacuumed the entire house. While cleaning, I realized that all of my frustrations stem from my two little ones. As darling as they are, I cannot get ANYTHING done with them around. In two short hours, I scrubbed my house from top to bottom (mopped the floors, caught up on all the laundry, cleaned out the fridge, etc.) I got to thinking about the last couple of weeks and how I've gone to bed beating myself up every night. WHY have I been so hard on myself?

While the kids were away, and I started to have a clear thought about what has transpired in the past couple of weeks, I couldn't believe that someone who has done so much could feel like such a failure. In the last two weeks, I've gotten my boys to school on time every morning (while taking a van full of neighbors too). I've canned peaches and made bottles of homemade salsa. I recovered the fabric on my kitchen chairs. I've made wholesome meals for my family, a meal for a neighbor and one for the missionaries as well. I've taken my kids swimming and to the park. I've nursed sick babies back to health (croup+stitches!). And to top it off, I've helped Simon go potty every 30 minutes and officially put him in underwear... for good! All this with a husband gone long hours, sometimes working in another city. Why was I so darn mean to myself after I had worked so hard? I've got to be better about the lies I am telling myself. I am good enough, patient enough and gosh darn it... I like me! (*this paragraph above was not to brag, but to show how skewed my thinking can be. Sad that I would allow things like not going to the gym or washing my hair more important on my list than being patient and loving to my kids...) anyway. lesson to be learned. sometimes clear thoughts can only come when it's quiet. and I haven't had much quiet lately...

Tonight for FHE we had a great lesson on honesty... and how sometimes when we tell one small little lie, we have to cover it up with another and another. Pretty soon, we're so far in, we're not sure how to get out. Luke was my object and he and I had rehearsed as story beforehand. Every time I asked him a question and he told a lie, I wrapped a rope around his body. Soon he was good and trapped. Instead of thinking he was in a big mess, the other boys were so jealous and wanted to be tied up too. It basically backfired and they spent the rest of the night telling "lies" and tying each other up. But Aaron and I watched them play and smiled at each other. This stage in our life is crazy, but it's a great stage. I love this little family of mine.

This is our little darling doing the actions to "popcorn popping". it's her favorite song... today.

emotionally spent

tomorrow afternoon I am teaching a blogging class to a small group of women. I should have spent some time preparing a handout or getting my thoughts together or at least getting caught up on my own blog. I feel a bit odd getting in front of anyone and talking about my passion for blogging and journaling when I've been so sporadic lately. it has definitely not been on the top of my priority list as of late. Aaron took a short trip to Reno for work and I've been single-mommin'-it and I'm exhausted. But truth be told, I am exhausted even when he's around, so what's new.

We ran a few errands tonight before Aaron's flight landed. Dollar Tree, Petco and Target... wowza. By the time Daddy joined us for dinner at In-n-Out, everyone was on their worst behavior. Ro was sleepy. Simon got an entire page of stickers stuck in his hair. Luke was teasing Zack, which prompted him to shoot his newly purchased dart gun instead of eating dinner. Ben spilled ketchup right in the middle of the floor in front of the garbage can and then he stepped in it. I swear everyone was looking at us and counting our kids. I should have made a nice dinner for Aaron to come home to but I felt like getting out. I should have known better. I didn't ask Aaron if he was happy to see us because I was afraid of what his answer would be.

As you can tell from last night's late night post, I feel a little overwhelmed. Sometimes I feel crazy. Crazy for having this many kids and even crazier for wanting more. But the past couple of days I've had meaningful, uplifting conversations with my sweetest friend Jane. When talking with her (even when I spend the entire time venting my frustrations) I always come away feeling better about myself and about life because she has the best outlook on life. Most of you know Jane's history and losing her baby boy back in January. She recently miscarried and my heart is broken for her. Tonight she shared her thoughts on her blog and I am not the least bit surprised by her uplifting and positive attitude about her experiences. You can read her entry HERE. I am blessed to have friends in my life that make me a better person just by being around them. My neighborhood is literally filled with caring loving women who want to serve and love one another. It's a fabulous thing to behold.

ending this early because it's time to go to sleep and well, I am spent. Goodnight!

in the nick of time

Labor Day came and went. A four day weekend is such a blessing, but Tuesday morning it seemed more like a curse. I had ALL weekend with my husband at home and I didn't do anything productive. The house was a wreck, everyone was exhausted and there were three squares of toilet paper to my name (and I have to share it with six people living with me.)

I left for the store in a frenzy. I hoped I could shop and be back in time to take the carpool. I hoped my boys were eating breakfast so I wouldn't have to shove a banana down their throats as they buckled their seatbelts and finished their homework on the way to elementary.

And then, on the street, I drove passed a neighbor girl running her little heart out. She was just a block or two from our house and just a few more blocks away from the bus stop. She was sprinting, with arms flailing and her books flopping from side to side on her back. I could hear her panting with my windows rolled up. Poor thing. I pulled over, told her to get in for the ride of her life and peeled away from the curb like I'd just robbed a bank. I'd get her to that bus stop in time or I'd get a ticket trying. We arrived at the same time as the bus and she got out without saying thank you. And I don't blame her. She had enough on her frazzled brain.

As I thought of her throughout the day, I giggled. The sight of her frantically sprinting was just too funny. She has a long road ahead of her with many more early mornings at the bus stop... not to mention drama with friends, heartbreaks after not being asked to dances, late nights trying to write papers on books she didn't read. Poor girl. I enjoyed high school, but I wouldn't go back for all the tea in China.

As the day progressed, I realized how similar my life was to the frenzied high schooler. I am not ever physically sprinting for my neighbors to see, but I am sprinting in my own way. I am always out of breath, just trying to keep up--- not with the Kardashians, but with the laundry! I don't want to know what would have happened if the toilet paper had run out. I came back just in the nick of time. My mornings are chaotic and busy. My afternoons are filled with toddler tornadoes and a baby clawing at my calves, just begging to be held. By evening, my clothes are spattered with spaghetti sauce even when pasta wasn't on the menu. When I huff to my mother on the phone about about my frustrating days, she laughs at me. And then she tells me that while she enjoyed the early motherhood years, she would never go back, not for all the tea in China.

This week she told me about a time when my Dad took her out on a date and when they arrived at their destination, she told him to go inside and leave her in the car alone. It made me laugh and feel so much better about my desire to be left alone. And my desire to leave the house.

Life is a journey. It's difficult in every stage for different reasons. The more we can relate to others and sympathize with their struggles, the more we find the joy in our own circumstances. My journey is uniquely different than yours. But it's the same too. Today, after loading the dinner dishes and putting the kids to bed, I cried. And then I laughed about my crazy day as I pictured myself sprinting around and flailing my arms just to arrive to this moment-- the moment where I lay down in bed and feel grateful I made it here, just in the nick of time. I didn't do it in style or grace, but I made it. And tomorrow I am going to try to be a little more prepared... and a little less judgmental towards anyone who doesn't have it all together all the time.

first trip to the ER

it's been a week since the accident. days with sick kids seem to go by so slowly, but here we are-- a week later and it seems like yesterday. it needs to be documented, no matter how grotesque the pictures.

after 10 years of boys rough-housing, we made our visit to the ER. Only, oddly enough, no one was rough-housing or being crazy. Believe me, Simon spends a good amount of time running around with swords, plastic guns & make-shift "weapons" but last Thursday, he was being a sweetheart, helping me cut peaches at the counter. He was "cutting" with a butter knife, but was doing lots more eating than he was cutting. He had the knife in his right hand, at a 90 degree angle when Luke, who is by far my most calm, well mannered child, walked past Simon swinging a pillow (which is in the shape of a ball.) The pillow hit Simon's elbow in the perfect spot and flung the butter knife into the back of Simon's throat. I didn't see the knife go in, but I saw Simon pull it out and I knew by the small end of the knife sticking out of his mouth that it had punctured and that the cut was deep. Simon put his fingers in his mouth, but did not cry. When his fingers came out bloody, he asked me for a bandaid. I went to get a cold rag and by the time I went to put it in his mouth, the bleeding had stopped. Simon willingly opened his mouth and let me look at it and I was amazed by the lack of blood. The puncture was probably the size of a dime, but it was deep and you could see several inches down his throat. I wondered if Simon was in shock because there was so emotion whatsoever. He was sick already from a bad cough/croup and laid on the couch and fell asleep minutes after it happened..

I called Aaron and a couple of friends for advice on what to do. Katie, my neighbor who is also a nurse, came over to check it out. She confirmed it was probably too deep for it to heal quickly and on it's own. I was on the fence about taking him in, but because he had such a terrible cough and fever anyway, I figured it would be best to get it stitched up. Katie stayed with the baby and put her down for a nap (and also cleaned my house) while Luke, Simon and I went to the emergency room.

The ER was a total bust. We waited forever and they ended up sending us away with a pat on the back, telling us to rinse it with salt water and keep an eye on it. I had sent a picture to a couple of dentists asking their opinion and both had called me back on the way home telling me it needed to be stitched up. Simon had yet to cry or complain over it, but I ended up shedding a few tears on the way home. It's hard to know what to do when you are getting conflicting advice!

Poor Luke felt awful about the whole thing. He stayed by Simon's side the entire time and kept asking him how he was doing. From the beginning Simon acted like nothing was wrong. By the time we were home, he was running around and eating chips and salsa (ahh!) I tried to get him to take a late nap, but he wouldn't have it.. so it was a long afternoon.

(this picture below was taken the day of the accident... he was sprinting across couches as spiderman minutes before Daddy got home from work.)

Aaron had a tennis match that night and lucky (for me!) it rained. He came home and took one look at the open palate and was freaked out by how deep it was. (I tried to tell him on the phone, but I guess you had to see it to believe it.. the pictures didn't do justice.) Around 9 PM, he took Simon over to our dentist/neighbor and they went into the office and stitched him up. Aaron held him the entire time and said he didn't move or complain one bit. unbelievable. I was worried that he was going to freak out because he hadn't had a nap and can get emotional when he's tired. Instead, he fell asleep :). It was only a few stitches, but Dr. Atwood said he was so surprised the ER sent me away knowing how deep the cut was. He also said Simon was a trooper, which we all knew after seeing him behave like a champ. He slept in our room that night and didn't make a peep.

The next morning, he woke up saying he wanted a slurpie, so that's what we got him first thing. He had about 3 sips before he insisted he was fine. I didn't fill the pain killer prescription because he wasn't complaining. He ran around like his usual self and didn't tug at or mention his stitches until 48 hours after the accident. He told me the following night he "had an owie in his mouth" as if I didn't know. We gave him some Tylenol and called it good.

A few days after that, we had the Sister Missionaries over for dinner. Simon was being his usual chatty self and talked their ears off. At one point during the meal, he picked up a butter knife, showed it to the Missionaries and said, "I ate this knife one time." We had to explain the whole story to the Sisters and they were so surprised he was so matter-of-fact about it. He told them all about cutting peaches, going to the doctor and then the dentist and he was happy to show his scar, but still not a single tear. I am totally amazed by this tough two year old of mine. He means it when he says he's NO BABY!

Looking back at the events this past week, I am so grateful for the support system I have... local friends and neighbors who are so willing and able to help us. I am grateful for heath insurance and a husband who works hard so I don't have to stress about medical bills. I truly believe this experience could have been so much worse. I know that we were blessed and I so relieved that our spunky, busy, rambunctious Simon is doing well. Here's to hoping we have another 10+ years before our next emergency.