Confessions of a Stay at Home Mom

2010-08-04T21:43:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time, I know. And if anyone is even reading this, this post does not mean that I am back full time. I have missed writing. I have REALLY missed writing. But life is crazy and I have an addictive personality...

Anyway, I felt like I should share a talk I gave in church this last December. It was the Sunday before Christmas. I was just a few days shy of giving birth to my sweet rainbow baby {aka... chubby chubberoo} . And the bishop {aka: hubby}, or rather the Lord requested I speak on this specific, tender subject. If anyone tells you it pays to have connections in the bishopbric they lied to you my friend... I'm just sayin...

Anyway, here it is.

2 ½ years ago my husband came to me and said, “I think we need to have another baby.” I just laughed at him. Why is that so funny? My baby, Samantha, was only 5 months old and Hunter had just turned 2. He insisted, “I know it seems crazy but I really feel strongly about this. Will you at least pray about it?” I said no. I didn’t need to. I knew what my answer would be… I also didn’t necessarily want the answer that I would receive… not just yet. But, when the Lord calls you answer and within weeks we were expecting our 3rd child. We found out a couple months later that another little girl was going to join our family and we decided to name her Savannah. A lot of people made sure tell us how crazy we were to have another child so soon... and I agreed. We would have 3 children under 3 all in diapers for several months. But I also knew that this was not just a spur of the moment decision we had made, we had been inspired that this was the right path for our little family. Or, rather, my husband had been inspired and I reluctantly agreed! The pregnancy went great, and I felt as good as a pregnant mother chasing two little rugrats around can feel. We looked forward to our due date of March 20 with excitement, but also a bit of anxiety. I knew that I had no idea what I was in for, and it scared me to death at times. But I always referred back to 1 Nephi 3:7 “I know that the Lord giveth no commandment to the children of men save he shall prepare a way for them to accomplish the thing which he has commanded them.” I knew it was true, and I knew that the Lord would provide a way for us to make it over the challenges that raising 3 tiny children would bring. On February 8, 2008 I was 8 1/2 months pregnant and we went in for a routine dr. appointment. We were hoping to be in and out quickly so that my husband could get on the road to a stake scout camp that had been planned for that weekend. Our world was rocked as the dr. told us, “I can’t find a heartbeat I’m so sorry, she’s not alive anymore.”

My husband didn’t go to scout camp that weekend.

The rest of that night was a bit of a whirlwind. Brett’s parents picked up our kids and we headed to the hospital to deliver our little girl. I actually felt really strong throughout the night. The spirit was very strong and confirmed to us that this was the Lords will and that everything would be okay. The nurses dressed her in a beautiful white dress and a tiny little bracelet and brought her to us to spend a little time with her. I felt okay. Then the moment came to hand her over for the last time. It was really hard to hand my baby off to a total stranger that wasn’t going to bring her back. For the first time that night I felt hopelessness. The man holding her looked into my eyes and told me, “I promise we’ll take good care of her.” And at that moment I heard another voice. Not with my ears, but deep within my heart. A voice that chased away all hopelessness and filled my entire body with warmth it said, “So will I.” The spirit spoke to me and I knew it was the words of our Savior talking directly to me.

I’m not an “important person”. I’m not an incredible above average person… although I allow and often ENCOURAGE my husband to tell me so anytime he feels so inclined…. BUT the Savior of the world spoke to me. He didn’t appear to me as he did to Joseph Smith. He didn’t raise my little girl from the dead as He did Lazarus. But he spoke peace to me. He knows me so well that he knew the 3 little words that would take away the pain that no one else in this world could. And He took time out of His busy schedule for one insignificant sheep.

Can any of us deny that being a mother involves sacrifice? The greatest story ever told begins with a humble 16 year old girl facing explaining to her fiancé that she has not committed adultery, but that the child she carries is the child of God conceived by the spirit. She travels a long distance “great with child", gives birth in filthy stable, and spends the next several years in hiding from people that want to kill her beloved child. Ultimately, she helplessly stands by her sons side as he suffers an unimaginable death.

Just like each of us, Mary faced many defining moments in her life. Moments when she could choose to go one way or another. She could choose to let events taking place make her bitter, or to make her stronger and bring her one step closer to the Lord. Losing a child was something I never imagined I could handle or bear, and it was certainly never something I thought the Lord would ask of me. But the moment came. And my husband and I had a decision to make. We could choose the path that this would set us on.

Joseph Smith taught the law of sacrifice in these words: “For a man to lay down his all, his character and reputation, his honor, and applause, his good name among men, his houses, his lands, his brothers and sisters, his wife and children and even his own life- counting all things but filth and dross for the excellency of the knowledge of Jesus Christ- requires more than mere belief or supposition that he is doing the will of God; but actual knowledge, realizing that, when these sufferings are ended, he will enter into eternal rest; and be a partaker of the glory of God.”

Bruce R. McConkie said, “Sacrifice pertains to mortality; in the eternal sense there is none. Sacrifice involves giving up the things of this world because of the promises of blessings to be gained in a better world. In the eternal perspective there is no sacrifice in giving up all things- even including the laying down of ones life- if eternal life is gained through such a course.”

Did things go the way I wanted them for my daughter? No. Just as I was accepting the call to add her to our family and getting excited about it she was “taken”. But I wouldn’t trade the experience for the world. I know she’s mine eternally and I just have to wait. And when making the decision to add another child to our family I resolved that I would not do it until I could honestly tell the Lord that I would accept whatever plan he has for her as well. So far so good as far as getting “my way” with this new baby. However, being a mom sometimes means taking on the challenges without the guarantee of earthly rewards. But we all know the eternal rewards far outweigh the earthly ones.

I know that the Atonement of Jesus Christ is a personal one. I know that He didn’t just take on the sins and sufferings of the world… but for each individual person that has ever and will ever live in this world. I know that He speaks the truth when he promises us all that He has. That everything we experience in this life, the sacrifices and the joys, are leading up to something infinitely bigger.

PRAY FOR KIM!

2009-04-08T19:31:00.000-07:00

This is my friend Kim and her cute little family.

Kim is a young, fun, amazing mother and friend.

Kim found out today that she has a tennis ball sized tumor in her brain.

She will go in for brain surgery tomorrow. They won't know until they get "in there" how deep it is or if it is malignant.

Kim needs your prayers!

Anyone willing is invited to participate in a fast for Kim Truman tomorrow. Please pray for her that all goes well so she can enjoy a long life with her cute little family.

PASS IT ON!

SPEED DEMON

2009-03-24T12:53:00.000-07:00

Haha... so true.

Don't get in my way on the road.

I'm in a hurry.

I have important places to be.

I'm a Dale Jr. reincarnate.

I..... drive a mini van.

...and I have precious cargo buckled in the back seat...

...IIII'm..okay... a speed demon at heart. You're probably looking at ME in your rear view, and I'm probably sucking in the fumes of your exhaust pipe wishing I could will my Honda Odessey to fly past your.... Honda Pilot...? Seriously is anyone reading this driving anything other than a "family sensible car"... is anyone reading this at all anymore since I've been slacking in my obsessive blogging habits...

But at the risk of sounding cliche'... don't you love sentences that start that way? ...neither do i. Take another look at the words on that rear view mirror. I'm not winning any races on the road (much to the annoyance of every man on the road that is horrified that I'm not driving 100 in the slow lane of the freeway..... them and every Honda Pilot driver... thems crazy people)

But I'm winning another race.

My opponent- Grief.

Grief puts up a good fight. He is fast. He is clever. He is a he because he knows how to push my buttons.

But I am faster. And now he is in the rear view sucking in all the fumes from my exhaust pipe.

I don't drive a mazzarati. I didn't need anything fancier than my Honda Oddesey. You see, grief, while very persistent, can be be outrun. If you take even one small pit stop, he will catch you again. If you look back for too long you lose momentum and he's right on top of you. But if you focus forward and just keep driving you can beat him.

You will never completely lose him. If you look in your rear view, he will always be there waiting for you to give him a chance to overtake you again.

However, if you just keep moving forward, objects in the rear view DO seem smaller than they actually are, and DO appear to be losing.

ps... Honda Pilot drivers aren't that bad...I just long to be one of them.

...I did hear that they have a supressed fear of killer trout, however... and that's a little silly...

2009-02-10T13:27:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had a best friend? Someone that is there for you through the good, bad and uuuugly? Someone that you love with all your heart and without whom you may just cease to exist? And have you ever had that perfect, sent from above, friendship tainted when she marries a total jerk? Seriously why do seemingly perfect girls pick loser partners? I know everyone should get to choose who they spend the rest of their life with, but come on... aren't they thinking of their better half? The half that had them first before jerk face stepped into the picture?

I am sorry to report that this was the fate of the glorious relationship I had with my BFF of 18+ years.

We were the BEST of friends. She was there for me during the awkward, gangly "still wearing my pink plastic glasses from 4th grade even though I was in 9th grade" days. She never left my side on the nights I sat at home when everyone else got asked to the dance and I was overlooked. She was there to celebrate with me the day I FINALLY got my period and entered womanhood a million years after everyone else.

She was my best friend.

And she was/is beautiful.

Let me introduce you to her.

Isn't she gorgeous?

For those of you out there that are saying to yourself, "Wait a minute! I thought I was your best friend!"... ummmm do you know me? Because anyone that truly knew me would know of my love for this bosom buddy of mine and would not be threatened by it, but would instead embrace it.... and in doing so fall in love themselves and fight me for a piece of her affection.

Here is the jerk she married. I hate him with every fiber of my being.His name is Thunder Thighs. He showed up in our life right around the time I graduated high school and he has been the constant companion to my beloved icecream ever since. I used to have her all to myself, without her wretched Thunder Thighs companion.

She is still there for me and she always will be. And don't get me wrong, I still revel in her companionship and find comfort in her embrace... but it will never be the same. She still shows up to keep me company when Hubs is out of town... but Thunder Thighs is always tagging along after her.

Curse him!

I've tried every trick in the world to get rid of him... now there's only one thing left to do...

I'm going to start seeing this guy on the side in the hopes that he chases Thunder Thighs away...

I don't like him much more than I like Thunder Thighs... but it's worth it to get my best friend all to myself again!

A Day of Reflection

2009-02-09T13:45:00.000-08:00

Today is the one year anniversary of the birth of our angel baby, Savannah.

Do you think anniversaries are a funny concept?

Let me elaborate

A marriage anniversary is a day that you celebrate your marriage to your sweet heart. A birthday is an anniversary of someones birth where you spend the day celebrating that person. If we're continuing on with that same pattern I guess an angel anniversary is a day to celebrate someone that has moved on to the other side.

I had a friend once tell me she hated mothers day. "Don't do nice things for me one day a year just because you are supposed to" she would say, "show me you love me all year because you do!"

Good point.

Although I must admit I DO love birthdays, anniversaries, mothers day etc... any day really that provides and excuse for a celebration.. especially if said celebration involves icecream or chocolate covered strawberries.. anything edible really.

But we should probably celebrate life and those that we love all throughout the year.

I though this day might feel a little different, but to be honest it doesn't. I played Candy Land with my kids this morning. I dropped Mister Mischief off at preschool and Miss Thang and I headed to the gym. My mother in law and sisters in law came over for lunch. We ate, chatted, had fun as usual. I gave in and ate that cinnamon roll I swore I wasn't going to touch.

I thought I might feel the need to do something out of the ordinary, but I didn't. I thought maybe bad memories would come flooding back, but they didn't. I feel fine and I feel happy, because I have a really good life! I can honestly say that I am finally to the point that life feels normal again. I thought I would forever have this little cloud of "dead baby gloom" hovering over my head. I thought that from here on out the birth of my angel baby would define me. I thought I could never be like other people because my baby died. But the truth is, I can, because I have chosen to be.

I am forever changed, and for the better. I have learned more from this one gift from God than from a lifetime of good and bad decisions I have made for myself. I wouldn't change this experience for the world. There have been up times and down times, BUT I can say that the sadness is not hanging over me anymore. This was always the plan for our little family and I can finally say that I accept that and am moving forward. And it feels good.

But to make this not just a meaningless day I would like to share a few things I've learned from this experience. After all, it would be a wasted experience if I didn't make sure something good came of it.

1. You are much stronger than you think you are. God trusts you so trust yourself. Give yourself some credit.

2. "Man is that he might have joy" This whole journey through life is leading up to the ultimate goal of eternal happiness. We are to learn everything we need to learn to be happier than we can ever imagine. Can you really expect to find eternal happiness if all you do is chase after sadness? Eventually you end up with what you catch, and what you catch is what you were chasing after. Hard things happen in life, but there is still joy to be found in life... happening RIGHT NOW. Don't miss it. I can promise you that those things that are causing you heart ache in the first place will end up enriching your happiness in one way or another in the long run anyway.

2. You have to let yourself grieve, but you also have to let yourself be happy. Grieving is part of the healing process, but so is happiness. You cannot say that you are completely healed if you are not happy yet. But happiness comes from within. It comes from having trust in the Lord and faith in yourself. No one else can make you be happy. That is your own decision. Give yourself time to mourn. But when you feel like you are ready to let go of the agonizing grief let go completely. Don't look back. Rehashing painful memories only brings sadness and Satan will pray on you and use it to bring you down. It is okay to look back on the positive, beautiful things that have come from an experience, but allowing yourself to relive the pain over and over again does nothing good.

3. Helping others is the best way to heal. I used to think this meant being sad with others, but I'm realizing now that even better that that is to share with others how I found happiness again and what helped me in my healing process. Pain is comfortable sometimes, but doesn't heal your heart and bring you true happiness.

4. Other people will never truly understand. And that is okay. We all have different journies in life. I used to get so frustrated when others didn't understand my heart ache at losing a child I never knew. But that is not their lot in life. They have other challenges to face and other opportunities for learning. I will not understand some of the trials they face. You have to be okay with yourself. You have to really involve the Lord and decide what is the best path for you to take, without worrying what other people think. And you just can't judge other people for not reading your mind. At the same time I really try to keep this in mind when I do come across someone that I do not understand and try to think about how I wanted to be treated when I was misunderstood.

4. Any experience is a wasted experience if you don't use it to better your life and the lives of those around you. Good or bad. Be proactive. You can't always choose what happens to you in life, but you do get to choose what you do with it and if it impacts you for the good or bad. This is a hard one to accept at times, but it is absolutely true.

5. LOOK for opportunities to learn and feel blessed. This is great for any time in life, but especially during times when you are struggling to feel happy. The Lord has a way of jam packing a billion tiny little lessons into each experience we have in life. We just tend to analize the drastic ones more than the every day ones. We become much more effective in life when we use these to our advantage and also to the advantage of those around us. Life can be so much richer than just a three hour long shopping trip of terror with two screaming toddlers and someone that just happened to smiled at you with an understanding smile. It just depends on what you choose to focus on.

These are just a few things I've learned.

What would YOU add to the list?

Happy Easter...?

2008-12-24T13:03:00.001-08:00

Anyone want to take a guess as to what my lesson to my 5 year old Sunday School class was about.

If you guessed Christmas you would be rrrrr...wrong. The lesson was on why we celebrate Easter. That seemed odd to me. I looked ahead in the manual and the next lesson is Christmas. Truth be told I think we may be a week off of where we are supposed to be, but I'm not sure... I just got this calling a couple weeks ago.

Anyway, the kids were all abuzz literally bouncing off the walls with excitement for Christmas in a couple of days. Can you imagine the puzzled look on their little faces when I told them we are going to talk about Easter? One little girl raised her hand and said, "Um... I think you mean CHRISTMAS." So, my challenge was to tie Easter in to Christmas, because they just weren't going to let me get away with talking about Easter when Christmas is just a couple days away (even Walmart waits until AT LEAST January to stock up with Cadbury eggs... definitely NOT complaining about that one.)

But as I thought about it I realized that Easter is really the core reason that we celebrate Christmas. I personally think that the rest of the world should celebrate my day of birth (April 3, in case you were wondering, and Cadbury eggs make GREAT gifts.) but what have I done to deserve having the rest of the world join together to celebrate me making my arrival into the world. So that is what I explained to my class and later to my 3 year old (and possibly my almost 2 year old by osmosis). We celebrate Christmas because we are happy that Jesus Christ was born. On someones birthday we give them gifts to show that we are happy that they were born and that we love him. We give gifts to each other on Christmas because he is not here to hand a package but it makes him happy to see up happy. We are kinder to each other, we do nice things for each other, we are just slightly better people this time of year as our gift to the Savior to tell him that we are happy that He was born. But he deserves all of these things because of what we celebrate at Easter.

Because He was born we were given a Savior. Because he was born and spent the last few years of His life minister to the people and teaching the Plan of Salvation we have a road map of how to live our lives and return to our Heavenly Father. Because he was born and eventually died for us all of that is possible. Because he died for us we will live again.

So I say Happy Birthday to our Savior (even though he technically wasn't born on December 25) we love you and are so happy that you were born, and so grateful that you were willing to sacrifice you own life that we may live again. You deserve a day dedicated to you no matter what the rest of the world says.

Silent Night, Holy Night

2008-12-20T15:49:00.000-08:00

My friend, H, had a link to this story on her blog, and it touched my heart. Okay.. it made me blubber like a pregnant woman (which I am not) or baby (which is arguable).

By Glenn Register

As I stood in front of the tiny bassient in the quiet room of the preemie ICU, the day finally caught up with me and I was unable to sing another word. It was as if the sight of that tiny girl, six months old and barely over six pounds in weight, opened the floodgates of my emotions, and the events of the last several hours came crashing down on me.

I had arrived at the hospital in the early afternoon, led there by that undeniable whisper that we often feel in life. This time the message was simple: Go sing at the hospital. I went. After wandering around for at least half an hour arguing with myself, I told myself that I was going to either go home or start singing. I flipped a mental coin and entered the first room of the day. "Would you like a Christmas song?" I asked, in a voice that sounded a lot more confident than I felt at the moment. "I'd love a song!" was the enthusiastic reply. I sang. Guitar slung over my shoulder, I sang and sang. I sang for the sick, the dying, and, in once instance, in a double occupancy room, I sang to a sick fellow and his "recently deceased" roommate. I soon gained confidence, and, as the afternoon slid into evening, I felt invincible, able to walk through a brick wall if occasion required.

Somehow through all of this I was able to retain just enough distance to continue functioning. I remember the beautiful young lady in the pediatric unit, all of fourteen or fifteen, who began sobbing quietly during the song Silent Night. I had raised an eyebrow at her mother who was sitting nearby; she nodded and I continued, watching as this young girl's shining black hair shimmered with the shaking of her shoulders. An elderly woman, full of gratitude and leaking tears at an alarming rate, thanked me again and again. I began to see, as the day progressed, that I was the recipient of the greater blessing, as time after time, I felt of greatness and witnessed courage up close and magnificent. Confined by circumstances beyond their control, sequestered away from holiday lights, parties and the warmth of home and hearth, not one of them offered a single word of complaint. On the contrary, one elderly lady expressed her thankfulness at being in the hospital and receiving such good care. In a way inexplicable my own courage began to grow and I saw my life as never before, and my challenges shrank to a pitiful size as I drank in their collective courage and goodwill.

This feeling of invincibility remained with me until, as I mentioned earlier, I stood before the bassient of that tiny baby girl. That "stainless steel" feeling evaporated and I became my old goofball self, full of weakness and inability; Joe Normal. Gone were the huge sword swinging shoulders, lost was the ability to lead men into battle, forgotten was the clarion call of superior deeds. I was returned with a a nearly audible thump to my old self. With one notable exception; For as I stood there tears on my everyday face, I felt as never before of the wonder and glory of The Christ Child, born in poverty, laid, not in the antiseptic cleanliness of a modern hospital, but in the filth and grime of a barn, "wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger." And I saw, for a brief moment, of the greatness of the Savior of mankind, and what His life had brought to me and mine, and what it would yet bring.

After a minute or two of fiddling around on the guitar waiting for my voice to return, I was able, after a fashion, to continue the song, Away in a Manger, then on to Silent Night. Somewhere during that second song I "connected" with that infant girl and it was as if we sang together in praise of the Babe of Bethlehem. I will never forget her or the gift she helped me receive, there in the back room of the hospital, away from the pomp and ceremony that has all but swallowed the Christmas season.

I think of her quite often, and more especially when the holidays approach, for that was to be her only Christmas Eve. I believe that I will see her again when my time here on earth is done. I'm a little sketchy on the details but I think we will meet in that other realm. I certainly hope so, for I have things to tell her, things of the heart, Like what an honor it was to sing for her, Like how much more Christmas means to me now, because of her, Like just how much I would love to sing with her again, just one last song, just like before.

Silent Night, Holy Night

Merry Christmas everyone. May we all remember the babe wrapped in rags and lain in a humble feeding trough who gave his life that we may have life eternal.

Come What May... And Love It!

2008-12-05T14:27:00.000-08:00

I love this talk that Joseph B. Worthlin gave in October Conference this year. I think he may have written his own tribute to what an amazing man he is. He will be missed! In the words of President Thomas S. Monson (at Elder Worthlins funeral today): "We will miss you Joseph. We will miss you until we see you again tomorrow!"

http://lds.org/ldsorg/v/index.jsp?vgnextoid=2354fccf2b7db010VgnVCM1000004d82620aRCRD&locale=0&sourceId=b5f44bb52a73d110VgnVCM100000176f620a____&hideNav=1

Everyone should own this book...

2008-12-02T12:40:00.001-08:00

via videosift.com

What do you think?!

Oh Happy Day!

2008-11-04T13:37:00.000-08:00

I would like to wish everyone a happy national doughnut day!!!

What a glorious holiday and what a glorious country we live in that will dedicate one special day to one of my favorite glutonous dreams of deep fat fried bread smothered in a robe of creamy chocolate frosting.... mmmm... doughnuts...

I have found that an astonishing number of people do not know about this day of artery clogging seduction so let me fill you in on the origins of this wonderful day...

National Doughnut Day honors the Salvation Army "Lassies" of WWI. It is also used as a fund raiser for needy causes of the Salvation Army.
The original Salvation Army Doughnut was first served by Salvation Army in 1917. During WWI, Salvation Army "lassies" were sent to the front lines of Europe. These brave volunteers made home cooked foods, and provided a moral boost to the troops. Often, the doughnuts were cooked in oil inside the of the metal helmet of an American soldier. The American infantrymen were commonly called doughboys. Salvation Army lassies were the only women outside of military personnel allowed to visit the front lines. Lt. Colonel Helen Purviance is considered the Salvation Army's "first doughnut girl".

Can it get better than this?! There is a good cause to back up the need to stuff our faces full of heaven!

What? You say National Doughnut day actually takes place on the first Friday in June?

You're right.

But Walmart starts the Christmas season earlier every year in order to commercialize on our holiday spirits.... (in fact the day after Halloween they were playing Christmas music!) I just figured Krispy Kreme deserved a peice of the consumer $$$ pie... don't you think?!

Start buying your doughnuts today. Lets make National Doughnut day last all year so that Krispy Kremes pockets can be as deep as Walmarts! :)

ps... I must admit, I was singing along to the songs in DEFINITE Christmas spirits and was ALMOST tempted to empty out my bank account on a basketfull of trendy toys that my kids will either break or forget about an hour after opening them. Soooo close Walmart!

Is anyone else annoyed that Thanksgiving gets skipped every year at the stores in order to capitolize on the birthday of our Savior?

ps.... CONGRATULATIONS to "Eatin' and Paintin' with Her Buisiness" you are the winner of this months shutterbug contest! I will get your prize to you asap Q! Thanks to everyone for voting!

And the Nominess Are...

2008-10-31T13:22:00.000-07:00

I am so glad to know that I'm not the only mommy whos first reaction is the grab the camera... and who finds humor in "unconventional" situations...

I present to you the nominees for

"Funniest/Most Unconventional Shutterbug Moment"

Please place your vote in the comments section.

btw... anything goes... feel free to enlist the help of your friends in helping your favorite pic win!!!

Climbin' naked...

Catch that cute crying face...

Her face when you whisper "bo0"

Jumpin' naked

Doin' His Business..

Holdin' her business...

Eatin'/paintin' with her business...

Diaper flung in the corner sleepin' in a puddle of pee pee...

Christmas Card Gone Bad...

You can see my eyes "mamas"!
Thanks to everyone that sent in their funny pictures!

Good Luck!

We Need YOU!

2008-10-30T14:59:00.001-07:00

Have you sent in your funny kid picture yet?!

We have some great entries so far, but we need MORE!

Tomorrow morning is the deadline!

Contest Time!!!

2008-10-28T12:53:00.000-07:00

This is my little man. Dead alseep. Snoring in fact... in spite of my not very muffled snickers as I am trying to sneak a picture of his entertaining although precarious sleeping position.

I am a very mean mommy. I have trained my children to nap for 3 glorious hours every day. I need that time. I would get nothing done if not for that time.

That said, I strategically transitioned Mister Mischief into his "big boy" bed when he was 18 months old because he could not yet open doors.... (the fact that little miss was on her way and I needed the crib may have come into play too) (also I am a big fan of prison cells...?). The excitement of this new found freedom was just too much for my little man and as soon as his cell door was closed he lept from his bed into the waiting arms of his ridiculously packed closet of toys. That was fine with me. As long as he was in his room and I was free to eat my bon bons and watch my soap (because that's all stay at home moms do riiight?) I didn't care what he did in there.

Inevitably he would play and play and play until his little body just couldn't go any farther and he would doze off right where he was. I would go in and check on him about 20 or so min. after I put him down. Pick him up from the pile of toys he succomed to sleep in, and place him in bed for the rest of nap time.

Well, on the same note of Oscar winning parenthood, I walked in one afternoon and found him in the above spine crushing position. What do I do...? Rush up and scoop my child up immediately saving him from a killer crik in his neck? Absolutely...right after I snapped a picture.

Okay, I'm not meaning to rehash my last post. I have a point. I have had so many people approach me after yesterdays post about funny pictures they have taken of their kids and their own Parent of the Year moments caught on film... and they are SO MUCH FUNNIER than any of mine.

So...

How about a little contest. Please send me your funniest mommy shutterbug moment caught on film! Send it to: mommymustconfess@gmail.com by Friday morning. Friday afternoon I will post them all and YOU all will cast your votes in the post section over the weekend. Tuesday afternoon I will announce the winner. What is a contest without a prize?! First place will win a mind blowing (within the parameters of my little budget) prize PLUS a Mommy Shutterbug Contest widget to put on your blog... what is the point of winning if you can't boast about it right?!

What are you waiting for?! Get on it!

PS... thank you ahead of time for providing my Friday post for me...

Shutterbug...

2008-10-27T12:15:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed that we as mothers sometimes choose totally inappropriate moments as our perfect "Kodak moments"?
Let me illustrate my point...

Mister Mischiefs first shots...

"Oooohhhh how cute, he's sobbing in excruciating pain from the giant needle that was just shoved in his tiny little leg... grab the camera!

Abandoned on the grass...

"How funny, your kid is scared of the grass"... mommy will save him but... let me take a picture first!

Eating Dirt...

"Ummm... your kid just ate playground dirt that may or may not be infested with some nasty flesh eating bacteria..."

"Click Click... don't want to forget this moment..."

Are these really precious moments that we won't want to forget down the road, or more ammo for our kids to use on when they are teenagers to prove that we don't love them and that we better undo the intense personal damage by buying them that new car...

I still think they are cute... am I a bad mom?!

My Boy is Secure in His Manhood

2008-10-24T12:32:00.000-07:00

Mister Mischief: Mom, how come my sister is wearing that bow (that's what he calls Miss Thang these days.)

Mommy: Girls wear them so they can be pretty.

MM: But boys don't?

Mommy: No, boys don't want to be pretty, boys want to be cool. You want to be cool don't you?

MM: Yeah.... but sometimes I dont' want to be cool. Sometimes I just want to be pretty so I can wear a bow too.

ummmm... should I be worried?

My boy is most DEFINTELY all boy. He likes to rough and tumble and play every sort of sport imaginable. So lets test out his theory... can a boy wear a bow and still be manly...

playing in the dirt..

riding his Harley bike...

tramping through the woods in search of bugs...

fishing...

hitting on girls...

You're right bud... you can pull anything off...

Live Strong

2008-10-22T12:20:00.000-07:00

This is my tired little man. He is one of my biggest joys in life. He can at times also be my biggest challenge in life.

Today he was my teacher.

Today was a beautiful, crisp autumn morning. Mister Mischief was going a little bonkers being caged up inside with such a sunshine filled day waiting for him outside. We decided to go to the park.

Little mister decided he MUST ride his "mogocycler" bike.... alll... the way... to the park...

This could be bad.

Normally I would strap him in the double wide (stroller that is) and I'd cart the kiddies down to the park since I know how exhausting a day a the park can be for the little rascals.

We usually spend the whole ride home in melt down mode.

But my little man was very insistant that he could do it. He IS a big boy after all. And someone could steal his bike while we are gone (HIS reasoning... not mine).

So away we went to the park. The ride there was great! I was very impressed with my little mans endurance and began imagining the pride of the mother of a Tour de France champion... Lance Armstrong eat your heart out!

The way home, as I'm sure you can imagine, was a different story. He was going strong for the first couple of minutes as we chatted about the important upcoming decision between hot dogs or mac 'n cheese for lunch. But I noticed my little man started lagging behind. I kept talking and it seemed to keep him going but evenually I looked back and saw that he had stopped. He was exhausted and there was not way he could go a step farther.

"I want you to carry my bike!" he declared.

I gave him that "try again" mommy look and he restated:

"Mommy, will you please carry my bike for me? I can't do it anymore."

I see a teaching moment... or maybe I'm just lazy, one can't be sure.

I said, "Sure bud, I will carry your bike home for you, but you need to bring it the rest of the way to me."

I know this sounds mean, but I knew he could do it. It wasn't very far, a couple feet maybe, but I wanted him to push himself a little further before accepting help. I also knew how proud he would be when he saw that he DID do it.

Then it dawned on me, our Father in Heaven says this to me all the time.

Me: Father, I just can't go any farther. PLEASE help me (I asked nicely)

Father: I will help you, but you can go just a little bit farther on your own. I know you can do it, but I want you to know you can do it too.

Me: OH MAN...

But without fail He is right every time. You see, I don't believe that the Lord ever abandons us in our hour of need. You know the moment when the road seems soooo long and you just don't have the strength to go even one step farther. He just has more faith in us than we do ourselves and He lets us take just a couple more steps on our own to prove that faith to US. And when it does get to the point that we really CAN'T do it on our own anymore He scoops up our bike and carries it in one hand while pushing an awkward, non-cooperating double wide stroller with the other hand... all the way home. Or until we decide we're ready to get back on our bike and try it again...

Once Little Mister rested and gathered a little strength he was fine and made it the rest of the ride home. This time instead of looking ahead and how far we still had to go we pointed out all the cool stuff along the way: a dog barking in the distance, a big rock in the middle of the sidewalk and a great big juicy bug hanging out on a leaf. Time flew by much faster this way.

So, the point to all my rambling is this: God does not forget about us. He just has a lot of faith in us. And those last few feet that He wants us to go before He scoops us up goes MUCH faster if we:

Thanks Air for starting my day with that awesome quote.

I needed to remember that today!

Back to Sponge Bob...

2008-10-21T11:50:00.000-07:00

Playgroup Friend M: Mister Mischief said he's going to kill me!

Me: What?!!! [roar]

Okay, now as Little Mister likes to point out, I drop my share of "naughty words" such as stupid (and believe me, he is very quick to point out that we don't say stupid mommy!). And even though he knows we don't say stupid... he drops his share of stupid heads and that's stupid... and we all know he picks this up by listening to what is said around the house (doesn't every mommy use the term stupid head in their everyday conversations?)

However I can pretty much guarantee that I have never threatened to kill anyone... in his presence.... that was a joke... a lame one... but nevertheless a joke...

So where the H (probably shouldn't drop that one around him either...) did he pick up the term: I'm going to kill you?! Where did my sweet little boy learn a phrase that mean something so violent?!

Brace yourself... you're not going to like this...

A few days later I am driving in the car and I plug in the Living Scriptures animated movie, "Nephi and the Brass Plates". Sounds like a good one right? I gaze lovingly at my little cherubs tied down in their car seats, eyes glazed over as they are hypnotized by the animated blessing that is our car tv and think what a good mom I am. I found a way to teach them scripture stories without having to do any of the work...

I am reluctantly awakened from my daydream by, "You better kill him!"

What the....

I listened to the rest of the movie and I bet I heard the word "kill" used about 20 different times!

Needless to say, "Nephi and the Brass Plates" went in the garbage.

The moral of this story is...

Maybe our kids are better off with Sponge Bob... at least he only teaches them to make gross farting noises... they're not going to call the SWAT team on your kid for that...

M.A.S.H.

2008-10-20T13:29:00.000-07:00

Where did you think you would be 10 years after giving your high school stomping grounds the good old "good riddance salute"?

I must say, that I never imagined that my life would be as evenful in 10 years as it has been. Between all my friends and I we have experienced what feels like a lifetime full of experiences ranging from divorce to loss of children, to job loss, to loss of our "eat a whole pizza at midnight and still keep your killer shape" bodies.

The road of life never quite takes you on exactly the journey you've imagined for yourself. But I'm happy to report... it ends up MUCH better! I mean lets face it... if life had ended up as my M.A.S.H. game predicted I would be Mrs. Joey McIntyre (New Kids on the Block), living in a shack with 20 kids, with an elephant as a pet.

I'll take my current life of being Mrs. Val Kilmer(ish), living in a house, with 3(ish) kids, with a dead fish as a pet.

Does life get any better than this? I submit that it does not.

Conundrum

2008-10-18T12:40:00.000-07:00

Okay... yes it's been a long time since I've posted. Yes, I know... there are sooooo many people that have missed me ;). And YES... this post is a blatant attempt to getting out of cleaning my house after a very fun baby shower for a very cute girl.

..but yes I do have a small amount of inspiration probing at me to receed to my own little corner of the blogosphere and write.

I have a little connundrum (yes... I have been looking for an excuse to use this word in an actual sentence... and yes run on sentences that are about nothing but wanting to use a particular word count as a sentence) (as do sentences containing several sets of parenthesis). (should I end that with a period? hmmm)

Anyway... I consider myself a pretty good friend, or at least I try to be... that is if your "good friend criteria" is someone that will tell you to XYZ & won't let you go out in public with a boogie hanging out of your nose. If your outfit looks really ridiculous I may say something, but you should probably disreguard any fashion advice I give because my husband dresses me. I tend to be kind of a flake sometimes (working on that), I go through weird shy periods when I don't have much to say and then obnoxious periods when I have TOO much to say, and I may or may not remember your birthday (I can barely remember my own and I've had the same one for almost 29 years now...) The point is I mean well and I really do try to treat people the way I would want to be treated. If I have a glob of unidentified goo hanging on to one of my teeth PLEASE tell me so I don't walk around looking ridiculous.

That said, here is the conundrum (that's twice in one post, double points!)

So I went to Walmart the other day to pick up some prints. As I am standing in line playing with Miss Thang, I look up and am greeted by the exposed (although underwear bound) derriere of the woman standing in front of me. "Hello" it says, "Please stare at me. Good luck holding in your fits of loud, immature, innappropriate laugher as you stare at me. Please don't tell my owner I am here... I am so enjoying the view.. It gets so stuffy stuck inside these old 1980's "Hammer style" slick pants."

Yes, her pants were unfortunately completely split up the back... were talking top to bottom. Hanging wide open.

Okay, so my first reaction is to tap this sweet woman on the shoulder and inform her that her rear end is not only exposed to the viewing 'pleasure' of all of Wallyworld, but that it is in fact, talking to me. But I wisely decided that I do not have time to fit a trip to the looney bin into my already hectic schedule. But here's my other conundrum... it is one thing to tell someone they have something in their teeth, or that their fly is open. That is something that can be immediately fixed. PLEASE tell someone when they are unknowingly being vexed with a problem such as these so they can avoid further humiliation. BUT (hehehe... no pun intended.. told you I'm immature) should I decide to tell this lady that her bottom is breaking free of captivity what can she do about it? The photo center of our friendly neighborhood Walmart is conveniently located at the very back of the store. There is no quick way out. There is no empty aisle to sneak down to avoid exposed cheek detection. And there is no way to hold your head high as you tramp out of the such a busy store with a split down the entire backside of your pants.

This lady is going to be humiliated eventually no matter what.

SO... do I tell her now and and create a walk of shame for her out to her car? Or do I let her enjoy the rest of her shopping trip in ignorant bliss only to be horrified once she gets home?

Either way she is going to mortified later, but there is nothing you can do about it at the store, so why drag out the torture right?

Yes... sadly that last question was posed as a pathetic attempt to soothe my troubled soul about the decision I made. I said nothing at all.

And as much as I would like to argue that I felt like it was the right thing to do... in all honesty I didn't say anything because I didn't have the guts to do it. I didn't have the guts to watch a womans eyes pop out in horror and begin her walk of shame through the gallows of Walmart.

Instead I watched her bebop away carefree as ever and continue the rest of her shopping trip as an old woman standing next to me made eye contact with me and made a wincing, "Oooh.. that's so sad face".

Judge away.

But what would you do? Be honest.

2008-10-02T21:15:00.000-07:00

My Sweet Savannah,

Oh how I love you. I want you to know that. I don't get to tell you everyday like I do your brother and sister. But I do.

I want you to know, that although I don't cry anymore I still miss you. Heavenly Father has work for mommy to do sweetheart, just like He has for you. So I have moved forward, just like you have. But there is a difference between moving FORWARD and moving ON. I will never move on and forget about you.

I am glad that you are in a safe, happy place. I am glad that my Grandma and Grandpa T. are there with you and that you have little angel friends like Zee, Scott, and Mac, just to name a few, to serve with. More than anything I'm glad you are with our Savior. I hope He gives you lots of hugs for me. Come to think of it... I bet He gives you better hugs than I ever could.... so when we meet again just pretend, for me, that I give the best hugs ever!

I hope you know that I always wanted you. Even though I cried sometimes when I was pregnant, wondering how I was possibly going to juggle three very young children, I always wanted you. Even though a lot of people around me felt the need to remind me that we were crazy to have you... I always wanted you. I know that you came when Heavenly Father needed you to. You were not an accident, and you going back to Heaven was not an accident. He has a plan for all of us, even one as tiny and precious as you. And I know, that if you had not had another more important mission, you would have fit right in with our family and Heavenly Father would have helped us make it through the craziness. Even if without His blessings your mommy would not be capable. It doesn't matter what we are capable of. The Savior can and does make up the difference.. and the end result is all that matters right?

There is nothing special about today. There is no anniversary that falls on this day. There is nothing specific that triggered this note to you. Just a mommy wanting her little lovey girl to know that on a normal, insignificant day I am thinking about you and loving you all the way to Heaven! You are in my heart and you and your brother and sister are my inspiration to try everyday to be a better mommy, a better wife, a better friend, a better neighbor, a better stander in looonnng tiring grocery store lines just a better all around person. It is a long process, and I am so far from where I want to be that it is frustrating sometimes. But you are my reminder that I am capable of helping create something perfect and that gives me hope.

I want you to know, if my being sad in the past has held you back at all from getting to the work you have to do... you are free to get to it. I want you to move forward too. Be happy. Serve the Lord. Practice your dancing with Zee... she has some moves... you definitely won't inherit any from me.

I love you forever sweetheart.

I can't wait for the day that I see you again.... but lets enjoy the journey there.

Love FOREVER,
Mommy

Interesting...

2008-10-01T14:15:00.000-07:00

I have discovered an interesting phenomenon...

We love to laugh at our kids... (or get annoyed with them depending on our mood)... for being obsessed with poop, pee, boogers... basically any bodily secretion that would be considered "icky" by the politically correct.

AND YET...

For several posts now I've had maybe 1 or 2 comments. Then I post about my sons "booger sharing habits" and low and behold people come right out of the closet. Maybe you have all been busy and haven't been on the computer. Maybe I bore you.

or MAYBE...

You giggle at feces, urine and snot as much as I secretly do.

People sure do have a lot to say about potty talk!

We never quite grow up do we?

At least I don't do blue darts. Do you?

A Gift From My Boy...

2008-09-30T12:22:00.000-07:00

Mister Mischief: Here mommy, I have something for you.

Places something hard and slightly ball shaped in the palm of my hand

Me: Hey thanks bud. What is it?

Mister Mischief: It's a snot.

Sure enough, upon careful, but not TOO careful, examination I discovered that my lovey little 3 year old had placed a dried up booger in my hand.

Just for safe keeping.

Or to throw away.

Or to proudly display (or publicly announce on blog) to the world...

This, ladies and gentlemen is true love. To hold anothers dried up booger in your hand, give them a love, and not vomit.

Estrogen Stinks...

2008-09-26T12:49:00.000-07:00

"I haven't had time to get to the gym in a while... so I've lost 10 lbs... SUCKS!"

Awe shucks.. I wish this was a problem I have to deal with. Nope, this is not a quote from me. It is not a quote from any women I know. This is a non-specific quote form any non-specific man in the free world that you or I may or may not know.

MEN SUCK.

Truly. I am seriously trying to figure out how and why our misguided society came to have the body image standards that we have today. Men (okay, ALOT if not MOST men) struggle to keep the poundage ON. They eat what they want. They live on french fries, Mountain Dew and the occasional protein shake (when they are trying to be "supportive of YOUR "I wanna fit into my pre-baby... or at least your pregnancy #1 "fat pants" diet.") They go to the gym to "bulk up". When they don't make it to the gym they get "scrawny" and have to start over. But society has decided that a scrawny male is not considered "ideal".

WOmen eat triscuit crackers and string cheese. We do 7 day "cleanses" where we drink only concoctions of cranberry juice, protein powder and toilet bown cleaner (or whatever your cleanse of choice calls for). We run. We go to the gym. We work as hard as we can... AND THAT DARN GHETTO BOOTY STAYS PUT. You work out for 3 months just to start seeing results. We miss a day at the, and we get "larger" and have to start over. Once again... society has decided that woman are more "ideal" when they are anorexic... at least by Hollywood standards.

Okay, is it just me or is something awry here? Is it just the whole, "grass is greener complex?" If women had to work hard not to be scrawny would the "ideal image" be different?

I know I am a pretty petite girl, I do not subscribe to any of the crazy cleanses, and I am not complaining about the way I look. But I do have to work at it in order to fit into my "ideal size" pants. Just this morning I had a hard time zipping up my pants and may or may not have considered drinking some cranberry juice and toilt bown cleaner. BUT I really am tired of hearing of so many people truly hurting themselves trying to trim themselves down more and more.

Why can't we be happy where we are at?

And why can't icecream make you lose weight.

And how come OUR bodies can't decimate calories before they hit our esophogus like the mens do?

Stop and Smell the Dirty Sneakers

2008-09-25T12:42:00.000-07:00

Ummmm... we just bought these sneakers a couple of weeks ago and they already REEEEEK... is that normal? Should I be worried that my son has come down with some killer alien fungus that is going to turn his blood green and make him eternally smell like moldy cheese?

My baby started preschool today. It doesn't seem possible that he is old enough for me to drop him off at someones house and pick him up 3 hours later with his head jam packed with mind blowing knowledge... such as how to trace the letter A and the name of his table neighbor... who is now his "BEST FRIEND IN THE WHOLE WORLD" I really wasn't sad for this day. Truthfully, I have looked forward to it for a while. For him AND me. I can't tell you how many crazy days I've had where my kids are chasing each other around screaming, crashing any item within their reach into the walls, and smearing themselves with the cream/condiment/makeup item of choice that I've thought..."I CAN'T WAIT FOR THEM TO START SCHOOL SO I CAN HAVE SOME TIME TO MYSELF!" Now that time is here for one of my little ones.

It's a little bittersweet.

I think my whole life has been this way. In high school I just couldn't WAIT to graduate. If I could just make it to graduation day THEN life will be perfect and I can sit back and enjoy it. Then I graduate and enter the "oh so fun" world of serious dating... seriously NOT FUN dating... and I thought, "If I could just get married, THEN life will be perfect and I can sit back and enjoy it." I got married what do you think happened as I was sitting at my desk PRETENDING to work? Yep, "If I could just have a baby and be a mommy...THEN..." you know the drill.

Motherhood has been the ultimate goal of my entire life. It is the best thing I have ever done and I FINALLY feel like I am doing what I was meant to do... instead of feeling like I am going through the motions to get to the point when I find my calling.

So NOW life is perfect and I can sit back and enjoy it... right? Ideally. But we as humans have a bad habit of looking ahead too often so that we miss some of the precious moments in the NOW. "I wish I could hit fast forward and get to the point where the baby sleeps through the night" "When is he/she going to crawl?!" "I will be so glad when he/she can walk so I dont' have to carry them anymore." "I CAN'T WAIT for them to start preschool! I need a couple of hours to myself!"

Have you ever noticed, however, that in retrospect you miss those moments? That first time the baby sleeps through the night is a little sad... they don't need you at night anymore. You miss them when they go to school even for a couple of hours.

I've noticed that each stage comes with it's own set of challenges. Our current challenge at our house right now is Mister Mischief reverting back to baby talk every once in a while.... why is that so IRRITATING?! I want to pull my hair out sometimes... and at the same time i can't help but slip back into the old... "Oh, if we could just get past this stage, life will be soooo much easier!" Unfortunately when you graduate from one hard stage, the next is always immensly better... but the challenges seem to increase in intensity as well. And in the mean time I am missing how lovey he can be at this stage... it's not going to be cool to snuggle with mommy forever you know!

So, I guess I'll just try to slow down and enjoy the stinky little boy sneakers... I'd rather them be stinky and filled with a sometimes frustrating mischievious little rascal.. than to not be there at all.

In the mean time.... any suggestions to rid those addorable mini Adidas' of the stench of death?!

Embrace

2008-09-22T12:50:00.000-07:00

I had a very emotional weekend. Emotional in a good way that is... I think... time will tell I guess.

I have been thinking a lot about the video I posted about on my last post. If you haven't watched it yet, please do. There is a picture included in that video of Christ and John the Baptist in the River Jordan. John the Baptist has just baptized the Savior and they are embracing. The thing that moves me to tears every time is the look on both of their faces. Huge grins. Although it is only a painting, you can feel how tightly they are holding onto each other. You can feel the electricity of their joy. And you know without words why they are happy. They are beginning the Fathers work. There just aren't words that can describe such a moment. That is why I love that painting so much. All of the emotions I feel about our Fathers plan and the Saviors atonement all wrapped up in an embrace of two "brothers".

I am not sure if there is doctrine to support that such an embrace took place, but I imagine it did. And the truly inspirational part of such an embrace of love and joy is that The Savior knew that this was the first step toward what would be a difficult journey. He knew how this path would end here on this earth. But He also knew how this path would end in the Eternal scheme of things. He knew that though it would lead to His eventual torure and death... it would ultimately lead to life eternal, not just for Him but for His brothers and sisters. He knew that He was beginning the process of erasing hopelessness and doom from the life of mankind. He knew that He was starting down a path that would show each of us the way Home. He loved His eternal family enough that He rejoiced when He come out of the waters of baptism and started us all on our way back to Him. I feel like we were all there, rejoicing right along with Him. Embracing each other and grinning.

How I love our Savior. I know because I am only a mortal, my ability to love is extremely limited and pales in comparison to what He must feel for us. I get a little taste of it when I look at my children. They give me a tiny taste of what it is like to love another more than myself. Even when they are naughty. Even when they "don't like me" for a moment. Even when they go back to Heaven before I get a chance to say hello. Every day I feel like the veil is pulled back a tiny bit more and I am able to grasp a little more of the eternal expanse that is our Saviors love for us. Then life gets crazy, my kids get LOUD, I get loud and I fall back a step again and have to reclaim that last few inches of my peak into His love.

I do want anyone that happens to come across this to know that I know that our Redeemer lives. I know it. I know it without a shadow of a doubt. And I know it because I have asked God, and He has told me. He has told me that all of it is true. That the Bible is His instructions to us, as is The Book of Mormon. We have prophets that lead us today. I have many friends of many different faiths and I love you all. I believe that there is truth in every religion. But I know that I have found the fullness of the truth of the Gospel of Jesus Christ in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latterday Saints. It's all there. You don't have to sift through anything and find what you like and determine if the truth outweighs the theory. I cannot say that I understand it all. There would be no point to me being here if I knew everything. But, I feel it in my heart that this is where I will find everything the Lord wants me to know and this church is my pathway to returning to Him. You don't have to believe it. You don't have to "subscribe" to it. It's definitely a personal answer for each of us to receive. But I can tell you that if you ask Him... He will tell you too.

So knowing all this, can we too smile and embrace in joy while facing some of our worst fears? It's not always easy, but I believe it is possible when we look to our Saviors example and focus on the Eternal scheme of things, instead of the short term pain, fear and sorrow.

What do you think?

Reflections of Christ

2008-09-19T13:55:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling a bit sentimental today, and the following video didn't help.

If you have a moment, start your weekend off by watching this video. If you don't have a moment make one.

Life is about having fun and enjoying every moment of it. But there is also a much bigger picture that we are working towards, we have so much more to look forward to than just the momentarily gratifying moments we have on this earth. I hope we can all take some time to thank our Savior for making that possible.

http://mabrystudios.typepad.com/reflections_of_christ/2008/03/reflections-sli.html

Have a good weekend everyone!

Beautiful Baby Bumps

2008-09-17T13:08:00.000-07:00

Isn't the pregnant belly a beautiful thing? It represents the ultimate miricle of nature. Beneath this womans pale white skin is a new life. Another human (...hopefully..) grown out of almost nothing. A pure little spirit about to leave the arms of our Father in Heaven and join us in the wonderful chaos of life. This tiny little person moves free of any outside forces. It stretches, yawns, throws in the occasional jab... even flips you off... sometimes... [Maybe I'm the only one that ate too much spicy mexican food during my last pregnancy earning that little "one fingered salute of love". ] Let's admit it, pregnancy isn't always the most comfortable experience. Your body turns into an alien host body. Your little invader causes cankles, sleepless nights, nonexistant bladder space and 40... okay 50+ lbs to myseriously appear in places you didn't know you had "fat pockets". But it's all worth it isn't it? Definitely. And while you are drowing in a body full of retained water and excess blubber... and who knows what else... it is hard to swallow the term, "cute little preggo lady" (btw.. does the term preggo make anyone else want to vomit? I usually use it when I'm typing because who has the time to type pregn... oh nevermind... but seriously... it's a title for spaghetti sauce, not a unborn child shrine.) Anyway, I know when I am pregnant I don't feel beautiful, but I want to tell all of you out there....You ARE beautiful. ENJOY your baby bumps. APPRECIATE them for the miricle that they are. I sure miss mine sometimes... although I'm not ready to go there again. I don't miss being "fat", or crying uncontrollably when I can't seem to force that stupid button into it's dumb button hole, or "the waddle". But I do miss the feeling of feeling a life I created moving around inside of me. I think there is nothing more beautiful than a pregnant woman.

That said... I have a confession to make...

I beat up a pregnant woman a couple weeks ago.

Yes you read that right.

Never mess with a woman at a bunco game. I don't care if you are pregnant, wear glasses, or are in a wheel chair with a missing foot. If you get in the way of my bunco dice and subsequent extra 15 bonus points... I WILL take you down. To the floor. Claws out.

We're still friends I think. She survived. Her unborn child survived. I almost didn't.... she put up a good fight...

Mei... if he comes out with a missing foot or something... I'll refund you your 15 bonus points next time we play.

And you can have Mister Mischief....

Have I mentioned I think you're beautiful...?

I don't think you can go to Heaven if you beat up a pregnant lady can you? Guess I may as well start enjoying life eh?! Pass me something I'm not supposed to consume please.

umm... p.s. thanks for outing me Q. Thanks a lot.

Follow Your Dreams..?

2008-09-16T12:11:00.000-07:00

My son wants to wear a unitard.

Whew, it was a relief... if not... um... weird... to get that off my chest.

But really.

We took a little trip to a kids gym this weekend. The kids had a blast. They jumped on the trampoline, slid down a slide into a pit of plastic balls and swung from rings suspended from the ceiling. And... my son found he has a natural affinity for doing this...

Future Olympian?

Not if his daddy has anything to say about it.

What is it about sports involving tights/spandex/unitards that kind of make men squirm?

We say we want our children to chase after their dreams... as long as they are in sync with ours.

My husbands chest would puff out in pride every time my son begged daddy to take him to the driving range. His eyes would fill up with tears as our son picked up such phrases as, "whoa dad, I bombed that drive! or "Hole in one!" or MY personal favorite... "that was a crap shot" And dear dad would curl in a fetal position (thumb in mouth with his pointer finger curled around his nose) sobbing with pride when Little Mister, in response to the question, "Who's your favorite golfer" exclaimed, "My daddy!"

Can life get any better than this? Your 3 year old son out driving teenagers and following after YOUR dream without any prodding from you? I submit that it cannot. It's easy at these moments to arrogantly announce to others that you should let your childrens wings unfurl and chase after whatever dream they have. Who are we as parents to determine the path our children take? If we but set a good example for them, our children will follow in our footsteps. They will be productive members of our community. They will be successful. They will make lots of money and provide mommy and daddy with a very comfortable retirement on the beaches of barbedos... what?

Okay, but what happens when previously gifted child prodigy extraordinaire changes those dreams and his new dreams involve a unitard, uneven bars and a unitard. That word alone gives me chills. If my child is going to wear one someday, we must come up with a more politically correct term for it... how about uni-developmentally disabled.

Much better.

But seriously, we would be jumping up and down if our daughter wanted to be a gymnist or a ballet dancer. Either of those sports (and yes, I would consider them sports because of the huge amount of talent, coordination, and athleticism that go into them) are respectable. I would LOVE to see Kobe hold himself parallel to the ground while suspended from rings hanging from the ceiling. Paul Hamm could take Kobe anyday!

So why would my husband (and lets face it, probably me too) probably get the bum chills if our son did take on one of these as his sport of choice?

Two words: the unitard

Can you imagine Tiger Woods winning the Masters cup in one? Although, lets be honest... poses like this:

were made for a man sporting tights.

Come to think of it, a lot of other sports would be pretty darn entertaining if their participants were dressed in a unitard...

I know I'd watch 'em...

What do you think?

Cash to burn?!

2008-09-15T13:56:00.000-07:00

Still waiting for new name suggestions...

Okay, so, do you ever come across EXTRA money that you are free to spend without any guilt, remourse, "you shoulda paid the eletric bill" regret?

Yeah, me either (or is it neither? Would someone PLEASE tell me!)

But if you did, your mind would be spinning with the possibilities... a sexy pair of killer pumps (that probably WILL eventually lead to your demise), a new purse, 10 gallons of icecream (you know it's crossed your mind). You would go crazy knowing that money is sitting in your wallet begging to be freed and thereby add to your collection of "stuff"... eventually gathering dust in your closet. (unless you went the icecream way like me.. in that case EWE!) Anyway, if that was the case you would appropriately say that money was BURNING A HOLE IN YOUR POCKET right?!

Well, I saw an iddy bitty little woman of Tawainese descent today taking this phrase slightly too literally.

I pulled up to a little strip mall to get my daughters hair cut (sadly, the mullet look is no longer "in" and I can't pull it off as "long hair" anymore. Plus, she likes to see. Her "bangs" were no longer allowing that option.). Next to the Dollar Cuts (only the best for my little mullet queen) is a nail salon with the tiny little Tawainese woman sitting out front with a little "bonfire" in a tin container. This looked odd, but what do I know? My kid has had a mullet for several months. I'm not the "social acceptance" committee. But I looked closer and saw what she was feeding the fire with...

$1 bills. What the?

Okay, it's only $1... but one after another after another. She was savoring each bill. She would dip it in the container and let the flames lick at the bill until it caught hold of it. She would then hold it by the corner and watch it burn until it was about halfway through then she'd toss it in and start on the next.

Okay, I've heard of having money to burn... but this is ridiculous. I can think of plenty of causes you can throw your "garbage money" at... my "Mommy needs new stuffing for her gym sock-esque deflated boobies fund" is at the top fo that list. Feel free to make your own contribution by the way. Email me and I'll give you the details.

What? You say you DO have money burning a hole in your pocket begging you to throw it at the first vendor to get in your face? What? You need a sexy new pair of designer jeans, but don't have $500 burning a hole in your old ones? Click here friend Des has an inventory of AUTHENTIC designer jeans that she is clearancing out right now. She'll give you a good deal.

Did I mention I could use a little "nipping and tucking"? It's amazing what 3 children can do you your body.

What do you think about "fixing what nature (and gravity)" has taken away?

The Mommy Formerly Known As...

2008-09-12T13:25:00.000-07:00

Don't you just love Prince?

I mean

or The Artist Formally Known as Prince

or The Artist

Anyone that is known all at the same time by one name, 4 names or just a symbol is truly cool.

Well, I'm pretty sure I could never pull off a purple velvet suit, but my kids think I'm pretty dang cool... on the days I can't take the whining and give in and let them have a cookie before dinner that is.

That said, in order to stay in league with the Hollywood elite, I think it is time to reinvent myself. "Stay at Home Mommy" just isn't an accurate title. It implies that I sit at home all day. With no other explanation that title screams, "I have so much extra time on my hands and have nothing better to do than sit on my computer all day spewing off nonsense." What'? It's not TOTALLY true.

So I have come up with some more appropriate titles:

Confessions of a Monkey Trainer/ Lunch Lady/ Household CEO

Confessions of a Housekeeper/ Chauffer/ Stagemom

Confessions of a Midget War Diplomat

Confessions of a Raw Egg Juggler

After all.... there is no resume that can compare to that of a mothers, whether you work from home or work in an office. I juggle 4 schedules (since WHEN does an 18 month old have a schedule?!), I cook, clean, bathe mud infested children, wipe doody off bums, I gather quotes for every imaginable thing that can and does break in our house, the responsibility of my childrens education scholastically and spiritually rests on my shoulders.... I (like every other "stay at home mommy") run my own little business I could go on and on and on... and feel free to add to my list in the comments section.

Being a mom is hard work, but I'm not feeling entirely creative today... sooo... I want YOU who actually read this to give me a new name.

What do you think? What is an appropriate description of what we, as mothers that quit working in an office to work at home, do every day?

If I use your suggestion I will send you a little prize! :)

btw.... did I mention I just started my own little BUSINESS? Click here to check it out:

yes... once again a blatant commercialization of an otherwise worthless blog.

Hi-ya

2008-09-11T13:52:00.000-07:00

Do you ever have one of those days where you just have nothing interesting to say? I have those everyday you say? Then why are you reading this? I don't blame you. It's like a train wreck, it's horrific but you just can't make yourself look away.

If you are still reading this (and if you are you must be having the same type of day I did) I'll give you a few more minutes to waste before you have to scale the mountain range of laundry , attack the dusty plant shelves that have been on your "to do" list for months, or attend to the screaming children that have torn your house apart in an attempt to win your attention as you've been blog hopping for the past 3 hours. We really should be friends.

For those of you that may not be full time mommy's that may or may not think that the life of a stay at home mom is either:

A. BO-RING I would poke my eyes out with a spoon if I had your mundane life.

B. Sweet! Sign me up for hanging out on the couch in my robe all day nibbling on bon bons.

Hey... being a full time mom is a full time job thank you very much. And it does have it's exciting moments like... strategically walking out to the mailbox hiding behind one tree or bike at a time so none of your neighbors can see that you are still in your jammies at 3:00 in the afternoon. Or how about trips to the grocery store with two little kids? Ever tried that?! Definitely NOT mundane... unless you consider... narrowly avoiding being clubbed to death with a zucchini by disgruntled old woman (who has had it with your kids whining too)... mundane.

But today, I topped them all. I gave Bond a run for his money... only without all the cool gizmos (I really need to get my hands on a semi-automatic ball point pen or remote control lamborghini, that would make my stories SO MUCH cooler).

I lived on the edge. I went out of my comfort zone. I boldly went where no girl in MY family has ever gone...

I canned pears.

Okay... I stood around visiting with my sister in law (LOOKING very helpful I might add) wilst SHE canned our pears.

Yes, I know, I make YOUR life look mundane. If you want to join my world, take a trip to Walmart and take on the crazy zucchini lady. That can be your initiation, or hazing if you will, into my world.

How cool is the train wreck now?!

2008-09-10T11:51:00.000-07:00

When you become a parent your capacity to love explodes beyond the boundaries of what the human body is capable of. Suddenly there is this loud, stinky, tiny little person that thinks you were put on this earth to serve their every need. And you agree. Who would have thought, back in the good old teen years, that someone elses needs would suddenly become more important than your own. All of the sudden you have this innate need to do whatever is best for your child. You would throw yourself in front of a semi to save that childs life. You would give them the remaining 7/8 of your sandwhich when they have cleaned their own plate and are still hungry. You would wipe their snotty nose with your bare fingers because you don't have a tissue handy and the poor thing is miserable. There is nothing you wouldn't do for your children, no matter what it costs you.

But Do you ever have those selfish moments when you wish you could have something that wouldn't be in their best interest, but would suit you pretty well? I want my children to grow up and have happy lives. I've had happy times in my life, but nothing compares to the overwhelming joy my own husband and family give me. I want my kids to experience that too. But sometimes I have a selfish mommy moment.

Do they have to grow up?

Do I really have to let my son go to kindergarted? Alone? Without his mommy? Even worse, do I really have to let him leave the country for 2 years to serve a mission in a place where people will be mean to him and he could be hurt? and where I can't give him loves every night?!

Do I seriously have to let my little girl get married someday? Is it unavoidable that someday I "give" her over to some guy to take care of? some guy that is probably 4 or 5 years old right now?! THAT guy I am going to have to trust with one of my most precious blessings?!

Did my little angel REALLY have to go back to heaven? I know that where she is right now is a much better place than this imperfect world we live in... but couldn't she just come stay with me if I promise to lock her up in the house and never let her go out where anyone could ever hurt her? I would be perfectly content to sit and snuggle her all day long.

Yes. I guess the answer to those questions is a resounding yes. But even as my 3 year old was yelling to me this afternoon that I was "stupid" for making him take a nap. Even as I am picking up my bomb of a house. Even as I was lugging two cranky toddlers around the store this morning only halfway through my errands only to realize that Little Missy had gone "you know what" in her pants.... I couldn't help but think... can we just freeze time for a bit?

I get caught up much too often in just trying to get through a day or a moment. I think, "Ugh... is it naptime yet?!" Life does get overwhelming at times. But then I stop for a moment and realize how fast time is flying and I panic. Am I wishing to fly through the chaotic moments so much that I am missing the precious one? How many times do we scream at our kids all day and then go in to check on them at night and just stare at their perfect little dreaming faces and think, "What have I done? I've wasted one more day with these perfect little angels that I am blessed to have" Of course it is easier to have these moments of appreciation staring at the peaceful face of a sleeping child than it is when you are gazing lovingly at the furious purple face of your little cherub as he/she is floundering on the floor in a temper tantrum of epic proportions.

I guess I just need to remind myself how fragile and how sacred life really is. How every day really is a gift from our Heavenly Father. I've learned this first hand. It was easy right after my sweet little daughter went back to heaven to enjoy the tender mercies of each day with my children. To remain thankful for my children even when they were about to bring down the house. But as I have healed and have gotten back to "every day life" I find myself not appreciating the little things as much as I should.

That said, please humor me as I share something about each child that I love, to remind myself of how precious they are and how overwhelmingly the scale tips down to the floor in favor of the good times outweighing the naughty/hectic/tired/cranky/aaaaahhhh moments.

Mister Mischief is my best buddy. He knows how to push buttons, but he also knows just the right moment to flash me one of his turn me to mush grins or give me a "giant dinosaur hug." He is the most loving little boy I have ever met.

Miss Thang is my little clown and my snuggle bunny. Her diva attitude definitely lives up to her nickname, but she also knows when to turn on the charm. She has her own little "jokes" and funny faces and can make me laugh no matter what mood I'm in.

My little Angel I never got to "know" her outside of my tummy but I love her just the same. She was a very mellow baby, she never bruised my ribs doing summersalts like the other two did, but she had some spunk. She would cover her face when we were trying to get a good look at her during my monthly ultrasounds and she even gave us the old one finger salute one time. She has taught me what an amazing gift the love of a mother is. It is one that is sent from God and has no conditions or limitations. I don't get to hold her now, but she gives me something to look forward to on the day that I have to leave the rest of my family here on earth for a time.

What do you love most about your kids/family?

Aspirations with a side of children...

2008-09-09T12:29:00.000-07:00

Okay, everyone else is doing it so I guess I'm going to jump on the "lets judge Sarah Palin boat" just for a minute.

It seems everyone has an opinion, including people like me who have never been incredibly involved on the political front.

In all honesty when she was first announced as John McCains running mate and the details of her family life started being revealed I thought, "Who is this horrible mother? She just had a baby with special needs, she has a teenage daughter that is about to become a mother herself [I was 25 when I had my first baby and I needed my mommy. I can't imagine what it must be like at 17!] and this woman is focused on forwarding her career." Yes, it is narrow minded and judgemental and I am not proud to admit that when I don't keep myself in check I can be very quick to judge.

I have to admit, during her speech at the Republican Convention she won me over. Yes, it is characteristic of a good politician that they be good BSers and talk a good talk, but she is intelligent, she has spunk, and as I have done more and more research on the things she accomplished as Governor of Alaska she's qualified enough to act as an "agent to the president".

In short, I like Sarah Palin. Based on the things she says she would do in her term as VP I would vote for her.

When I vote, I try to do it based on what the candidate will do for our country, not on their personal life. Although, from a religious point of view, I really would like to have the Lord backing up the presiding authority of our country so no child molesters or murderers please.

Putting aside who you think should be running our country I want to know what my friends think of the personal aspect of this. I am not saying that anyone is a bad parent, and I want to be clear when I say that there is more than one RIGHT way to be a good parent.

I also think that it is very important for a parent to keep their sense of self. When you lose yourself behind the title of mommy or daddy you lose a little bit of your ability to dedicate all the time you have with your children to what THEY need. I think they also need a good example of finding out who you really are as a person.

BUT has the world taken this too far? What is the dividing line between taking care of your needs and going after your passions, even helping other people, and taking care of your number one responsibility: your family. I'm not just talking about women, I'm talking about men AND women. The family seems to be taking a back seat lately. More and more celebrities are deciding they want to have children. Of course they don't want to give up the lifestyle they are accustomed to, so they all have nannies. Politicians do it too, men and women enter the office of extreme responsibility to their community. I don't think that's necissarily a bad thing, but lets ask this question: when a crisis comes up at home and in the community you are responsible for who has to take a back seat.

When you decide to take on a career like politics, you realize that you and your family will have to make some sacrifices. That is a decision for individuals to make. Sarah Palins husband can stay home with the kids, or they can hire a nanny, but what about moments when you just need your mom? Anyone that has lost their mother would tell you that there are times when no one else can fill that void. You learn to deal with it as an adult, but children need their mothers. Call me sexist, call me old fashioned, but I think that it is a God given gift to women. We go through the "joys" of pregnancy and childbirth and in return we get a bond with each child that cannot be replaced by anyone... nanny or daddy.

I think the decisions that other people make for their own families are none of anyone elses business... until it starts to affect the rest of the community. Until the celebrity children that have been raised by nanny's so their parents can chase after their own dreams start driving drunk and hurting people, or eat up our tax dollars sitting in their private jail cell. These children we are raising won't be children forever. They are the future leaders of our country. I don't know about you, but I would really like this world we live in to be a safe place for my chilren and my childrens children when a nurse is changing my diapers and wiping drool off my chin.

I am not against working moms. Some people need to do it for money. Others need to do it because they enjoy it. It is a personal decision and one of the great blessings we were given when we came to this earth is that of agency.

My question to you, however, is how far can we chase our own dreams before it starts affecting the LIVES of our children. (and YES this question is for moms AND dads). And do you think that timing is an ussue, do you think parents should put BIG dreams on hold while their kids are in their formative years if that dream is going to take them away from their family a lot.

2008-09-08T12:39:00.000-07:00

Sisters are built in Best Friends!

They are also built in sibling humility level regulators. They are put on this earth to make sure that we have the perfect balance of fun adventures and I want to crawl under a rock and DIE moments in our formative years, lest we grow up to have ginormous heads and think we are indestructable

And have any form of self esteem.

Oh, I have piles of evidence to back up this theory... and lest you doubt me, I am about to share one such experience.

It wa s 5th grade. You remember that dreaded year: the year of the maturation program....AAAAAAHHHH. Every preteen girls worst nightmare. A whole hour or more of talking about bodily secretions, blossoming bousoms, and the dreaded S word. Uuuuugh. And just to add a cherry to the top of this humiliation sundae... they invite your mother.... who is alternating between putting her arm around you and squeezing more blood into your already bursting at the seems beet red face telling you how proud she is of you, and blubbering uncontrollably because she "can't believe how fast her baby is growing up".

Somebody shoot me. It's already such an awkward age, and it is mortifying to a 5th grader to have their mother address the fact that their body is changing. It's even more mortifying when your body is not changing, and your mother is still blubbering because it's going to happen so soon and that will hail the coming of you leaving her forever... now you know it's all eyes on you watching for these changes that may or may not come to your awkward late blooming body.

I was one such late bloomer.

Lucky for me my mom couldn't make it to maturation. Siiiiggggghhhhh of relief. I had the worlds most supportive mom. She was at every single elementary school program, parent teacher conference and neighborhood dance recital. I don't remember why she couldn't make it, but I do remember how bad she felt and how she promised she'd make it up to me....and how I actually PRAYED to thank the Lord that she wouldn't be there.

I sat through that mortifying event snickering at my poor friends as they wiggled uncomfortably in their mothers grasp praying for death to swallow them whole. Ha ha... I had avoided one of the ultimate humiliations.

Little did I know what fate had in store for me via my evil, plotting little imp of a sister.

My sister [we'll call her pug bug, since that was my nick name for her growing up that would ignite her to to the point of volcanic explosion...] seemed so sweet and innocent to the ignorant by stander. But underneath that facade of perfection lurked diablo himself. She was notorious for pulling pranks and was always on the lookout for the perfect opportunity to ruin my life. Well... you can see where this is going...

I came home from school gloating at my motherless maturation program victory that day. I was just about to head out to a blissful afternoon of whatever the heck 5th graders do when my mom called for everyone to come into the bathroom.

Uh oh... that can't be good...

As my two sisters and I sauntered into the bathroom I noticed she was holding the cabinet next to the toilet open and she was staring at me with that "your moment has come" "I'm so proud of you" preteen nervousness/humiliation vomit inducing grin on her face.

Then she held up a package of "feminine napkins". She announced, "Now girls this is for Sarah, so no one else touch them. Sarah, honey, when you need these they are right here. When the time comes come get me and I will show you how to use them." She was about to cry. Kill me now. Seriously, just shoot me.

And then I looked over at my evil 3rd grader sister and I really wanted to dieShe had this exact grin on her face:

Then the Grinch got an idea... an AWEFUL idea. The Grinch got a WONDERFUL, AWEFUL idea.

I could see her plotting and I knew something bad was coming. But I ran along to my friends house anyway, hoping that if I pretended a catastrophe wasn't coming, it would naturally be averted.

Well, my cherubic little sister was a lot more intelligent than her tiny little midget body would suggest. She saw the horrified look on my face, and she saw the tears shining in my proud mothers eyes. She could also read minds and could tell how I was dreading that moment that I actually had to open that box of feminine napkins, not because of the cramps, or the bodily secretions or the impending adulthood. Because of the scene that would come from my mom at the announcement of her daughters confirmed womanhood.

What else would a 3rd grade spawn of the devil do but exploit such a situation?

Mom went down to do the laundry. Pug Bug immediately ran to the bathroom, ripped open the dreaded package and removed a feminine napkin. How do you induce hysteric tears of joy and dread in your mother? You add ketchup (or catsup if you live in Canada) to a maxi pad and leave the blunt evidence in the garbage can for said unsuspecting mother to find.

Pug Bug was giggling as she hid in the closet waiting for the scene when my mother would find the "bloody" pad in the garbage and therefor ruin my life forever with her hysterics.

She waited.

And waited.

For 5 whole minutes... which is 5 years in 3rd grader time. She couldn't wait. The neighbors dog was waiting to be tormented, but she couldn't miss this scene. She'd have to help it along. So she decided to put the pad in a more obvious place, one where my mother couldn't miss it and send her up.

She ran downstairs and turned up the drama a notch and exclaimed to my mother, "Mom! Sarah started her period! I found a used pad upstairs! Hurry!" Well, of course my mom went running! She couldn't miss this maturation milestone! She ran upstairs to the bathroom and found no sign of me or the evidence of my "condition". She said, "I don't see anything." Pug Bug said, "No mom! In here!" My mom walked into the kitchen and found it: a ketchup covered maxi pad strategically placed on the kitchen counter.

My sister got spanked. I told all her friends not to like her. And years later I still call her Pug Bug.

I think we're even now.

What's your worst sibling humiliation story?!

ps.... yes, I fully intend to make my daughter vomit with humiliation when she "becomes a woman" it's only fair...

RIP Petey

2008-09-04T14:05:00.000-07:00

Petey

September 3, 2008 1:00pm-September 4, 2008 1:00pm

Our sweet Petey passed away today due to the natural affects of old age. He was 24 hours old [240 years in goldfish years].

Petey was a very happy little goldfish and was very pleasant to be around. He never complained when his little plastic "transportation" bag was shaken by a sugar crazed 3 year old. Never a word he spoke when his attempts to sleep were foiled by two little [gargantuine to Petey] noses were pressed up against the glass of his tank fogging up the glass and possibly leaving behind a little something else in the process. And never once did he whine about breathing in the same water in which he relieved himself. No, Petey was a good fish. He provided his family with abounding love, kindness, and comic relief (when he relieved himself in front of them of course...) He enjoyed travelling and saw many sites during the course of his day as he travelled from Walmart to his new home. He had been planning a trip to Paris in the fall [perhaps his family should take that trip for him... out of respect and in the name of his memory of course] Yes, he lived a good full life and now moves on to Goldfish Heaven.

Petey was preceeded in death by the love of his life, his companion, Goldy (she paved the way for him 5 hours before him). He is survived by his adoptive Mommy and Daddy, brother Mister Mischief, and sister Miss Thang.

Petey was buried at sea today in a private ceremony of only close friends and family. This is the way he would have wanted it.

In leiu of flowers, the family is accepting monetary donations in Peteys name. Please feel free to be generous.

Little Mousies

2008-09-03T13:42:00.000-07:00

Okay, I'm going to cheat a little today and use a story that I posted on my regular family blog. Partly because I think it's a funny story, partly because I want to hear what everyone else has to say about the topic I'm about to bring up. But mostly because I just spent the first hour and a half of my kids nap time showing the AC repair guy around and receiving a thorough schooling on the intricacies of the modern cooling system.... which may or may not have gone in one ear and out the other as I was daydreaming about the chocolate dipped mint creamies waiting for me in the freezer and how I was running out of time to eat one before my little cupcakes woke up.

Sooooo I think it has definitely been determined that I am a certified blog stalker... er hopper. Hey, you admitted you are too. And if you didn't admit it and you are reading this right now repeat after me.... I am a blog stalker. Very good. It's always much better when you get past the acceptance stage.

Well, I have a pretty good rule for myself. If I get all my stuff done in the morning meaning house is cleaned, dishes put away, bed made, and I am properly bathed then the glorious three hours that my children sleep in the afternoon is MINE to do with as I please. And it just so happens that it so pleases me to take a dip and surf the net. Usually I spend most of the time posting on my own blogs, but I like tokeep up with what others are up to too.

But we've already covered this subject.

Before my children discovered the infinite bliss that is Super Why, I used to enjoy a nice helping of the morning news with my bowl of cereal. Now that I no longer have my morning news to stimulate me in the morning (and am a Mormon, and therefor coffee is off limits) my side dish of choice is a quick dose of blog I read up on my favorite dailies such as Mrs Dubb then quickly check to see if anyone else has updated. I'm done before my little piggies finish their first (yes...first...I'm afraid we may be right up there with ethanol gas in driving up corn prices with the amount of cereal we consume in our household) The rest of the morning belongs to my little piglets and my chores. The computer is put away.

Well, yesterday, a good friend of mine FINALLY updated after about 6 months. You can imagine my delight. I couldn't tear myself away from the computer as I read all about what they had been up to this summer... yadda yadda yadda... so it may have taken me a little longer to finish than it usually does. Mr. Mischief finished up his...oh... I was too into my story to keep count... lets just say 4th bowl of cereal for the sake of time, and had moved over to the couch.

As I was finishing up my online novel, I heard a rustling coming from the pantry behind me. Great, mouse season already. It had been cold this weekend, but did they have to invade so soon?!

Then I noticed the previously closed door was partially opened....

Man, these are some mutant mice.... they can have whatever is in the pantry... just leave my children (oh and my white cheddar popcorn please) alone!

Then I noticed Mister Mischief was no longer sitting on the couch.

I was too late my mutant rats already got him.

I tiptoed to the pantry to avenge my sons demise, threw open the door, and found this...

Here's my little mousie. Isn't he cute? I think I'll keep him.

Isn't it funny how even my 18 month old can detect when mommy isn't paying attention ie: on the phone, on the computer, making out with a fudgecicle. They don't even have to be in the same room, their detectors go off, and they exploit the temporary freedom to run rampant to the fullest extent?!

What do your little mousies do when you are "temporarily unavailable"?

Oh No...

2008-09-02T13:05:00.000-07:00

After a long day there is nothing like the feeling of closing down shop.

I close all the blinds, make sure all the doors are locked and turn out all the lights. Then I head off to attempt to snuggle with my hubby... although ultimately I get swallowed up by the sleep monster before my head hits the pillow.

Last night I was basking in the joy that is my nightly routine when my world was shattered. One moment I am blistfully skipping along (gloating at the fact that I survived another crazy chaotic day and still could skip) flipping off lights and congratulating myself on the fact that it was only 9:30 and we were already heading for bed. I might even be able to stay awake tonight. What a wonderful night this would be. What great possibilities awaited me? Snuggling with my hubby. Maybe watch a little tv or read a little.

As I was walking through the kitchen I looked up and froze. There was a half full water bottle teetering on the edge of the counter. It should be still right? Water bottles don't move autonomously. But it was vibrating. You know that scene on Jurassic Park where they are sitting in the broken down car conveniently positioned right in front of the T-Rex cage conveniently sans-electric fence sustaining electricity? They look down at the glass of water and it starts vibrating and a perfect little ripple appears in said water producing a tidal wave of terror-filled anxiety in the occupants of the car?

Times that by a million.

They were actors on a set, they new that ripple was produced by a guitar string (actual trivia) underneath the car, and that the T-Rex coming to rip them to shreds was a the mercy of their technical producers who (hopefully) had no desire to expose them to such a fate. There were no producers on my "set". I was all by myself in my kitchen. When a water bottle vibrates all by itself, it cannot mean something good is in your forcast.

As it would turn out, what was in my forcast was worse than I could have ever imagined.

There must be a minor earthquake.... I braced myself for a moment, looked around and realized nothing else, including myself, was moving. Then it must be worse... I turned slowly (they always do it slowly in the movies) to search for the T-Rex that must be in pursuit of the "chocolate filled" yummyness that was my body... nothing.

I looked back at the terror-inducing water bottle. It had ceased movement. Hmmm... that's weird. Oh well, off to bed and I started to walk off...

That stupid bottle started vibrating again.. gosh dang it, it was worse than an earthquake, or a bloodthirsty T-Rex that had caused the ripple....

IT WAS ME. My walking had caused the floor to shake and thus caused the water bottle to vibrate in a previously "pounding dinosaur footstep" induced way.

So much for snuggling.

Anyone else had a wake up call lately?

Food for Thought

2008-08-30T12:42:00.000-07:00

Here's some food for thought before you turn the tv on for your kiddies this weekend...

Be Grateful...

2008-08-29T12:49:00.000-07:00

...I think I just threw up in my mouth...

HOWEVER... it does remind me of a little story... sit back, relax... and you might not want to be eating anything while you read this story... you may throw up in your mouth too...

Okay... sooooo I was THAT GIRL. My friends got asked out on lots and lots of dates and I was the "can't get her own date tag along friend" that got set up with the "pockmark faced, garlic breath, stuck in the 1980's bomber jacket (and possibly pedifile) " friend that also can't get a date roomate. It's okay, I embraced it. I got a lot of good ammo on my dear friends this way. When I said jump they said how high... or I guess that's how it's supposed to work right?

Anyway, my friend... lets call her Francis... meets "Lance the Studmuffin". Actually I think both Lance the Studmuffin and his lovely friend wore bomber jackets so maybe they were both pedifiles. Beside the point.

He's cute, charming aaaannnd, ready for the icing on the cake...

HE DRIVES A MOTORCYCLE (and wears a 1980's bomber jacket)

Tell me, who can resist a guy who drives a motorcycle. Not Francis.

"Oh, he's just dreamy...! I have an idea, why don't you go out with his friend [we'll call him Larry, Larry sounds like an appropriately creepy name right?] then we could double and I can have the best of both worlds: my man and my BFF! Wouldn't it be fun if we all got married (as in each individual couple, not all 4 of us, sorry I don't roll that way...)

Okay, I knew better. Up to this point, I've never had a good experience with a blind date (although later on... I did meat my Dream Guy and fall madly happily in love and live happily ever after thanks to a blind date gone good). BUUUUT I love my friend, I don't want to burst her little bubble full of puppies, rainbows and Prince Charmings riding off into the sunset. Plus she informs me that he rides a motorcycle too (although conveniently leaves out the 1980's bomber jacket and pedifile part) so I figure it can't be THAT bad right?!!! What rebelious teenager struggling to find her own identity can resist a blind date with a rebel on a motorcycle? Not me. The beauty of being a girl on a blind date is free dinner and a movie and an adrenaline pumping, hair destroying night on a motorcycle. Can't beat that right, even if the guy is a total twit (and possible pedifile).

So, we meet at the guys house. (we couldn't have two guys show up to pick us up at OUR houses on motorcycls. The night would be over before it began!)

Lance 'n Larry (ooohhh, that's sounding creepy already) come strutting out of the house. Wait... did I say Lance AND Larry?! Nooooo I meant just Lance. Larry was still GETTING READY. You see he takes longer to get ready than Tammy Faye.

He literally would pluck his eyebrows every day and would sit in front of the mirror with scissors evening out every single hair on top of his head. Welllll.... at least he wants to impress me riiiight??? hmmm....

There was a whole brigade of us going out on motorcycles for the night. Well, that's a plus... I've always wanted to be part of a motorcycle gang. And where does a Hog Posse go to impress their lady friends? Where else... VILLAGE INN... I kid you not. We really went to Village Inn. Now I'm not a snob, I'll eat wherever... I just thought it was pretty apprpriate....that's all I'm saying...

Okay, so we enter the restaurant and Larry turns to Lance the Studmuffin and stays, "Dude, I don't have any money... I'm going to go find an ATM, I'll be right back. And he turns and struts off. I looked at Lance the Studmuffin, back at Larry then back at Lance the Studmuffin. He shrugs his shoulders and says, "I've always wanted to have two dates! "

We sit down to dinner. Still no Larry. I order something small and budget friendly (although seriously eyeing that MOONS OVER MIHAMMY as I drench my shirt in drool.) Don't want to break the bank for Larry you know. Anyway, still no Larry. Our Tammy Faye look-alike waitress (appropriate don't you think.. if I can't have my date, why not his lookalike as my waitress?) brings us our dinner and asks with sickening pitty in her eyes, "Can I get you anything else hon?" Still no Larry. I devour my piece of toast and icewater and start on Francis' dinner. Still no Larry. The check comes. Still no Larry. Ummmm... see where this was going. I get up to head toward the kitchen to start washing dishes to pay for my morsel of food when Lance the Studmuffin proves what a Studmuffin he is. he pays for my meal... and asks if I can help cover the tip.... Still no Larry...

Luckily, one of the Chain Gang drove a car so he drives me back to the bachelor pad (I thought about having him take me home, but decided wisely against it... there are a lot of little kids that live on my street). We go inside "just for a minute" and find Larry sitting on the couch with the stinkiest, nastiest Mount Everest sized mountain of eggs you've ever singed your nose hair on. Did I mention it was drenched in ketchup? And that there was a little piece of egg hanging from the tip of his nose? (Maybe not that last part, but that was the only thing that could have POSSIBLY made me any sicker than I already was)... until.... he pats the couch next to me, winks at me and tells me to have a seat. I sat down on the bean bag chair on the other side of the room.

He calls to me, "sorry, I didn't have any money" I ignore him, not because I am mad at him for ditching me, but just HOPING that if I pretend he isn't there he will dissappear... or turn into Brad Pitt or anyone else in the world that doesn't make me want to blow chunks.

Now, you may be saying to yourself:
A. This is the worst date story EVER
B. Wow, this girl must be really really ugly
C. This can't possibly get any worse....

Well, the first two are subjective (and B is a retorical question thank you very much!) But if you guessed C... you are WRONG. Yes, sadly this story gets MUCH WORSE.

Everyone else gets cozy with their mates on the couch as I am curled up in a fetal position on the bean bag watching who knows what... just trying to block out my surroundings. I am doing a pretty good job zoning out and picturing my happy place (you know the one: gobs of luscious, gooey chocolate icecream dripping from my lips onto a crisp white shirt) when all of the sudden I smell the putrid odor of rancid eggs breathing down my neck and melting my skin like acid rain.

UUUUUGGGGGHHHH. TELL ME he is not seriously trying to spoon me?!!!! AAAHHHH (now is the point where you should imagine the sound effects from the shower scene of Hitchcocks Psyco). Yes... he was trying to spoon me. In fact... he was so close it was more of a spork because he was trying to intertwine his legs with mine. I curled up into myself even tighter and pretended to be asleep... for the ENTIRE 2 HOURS OF THE MOVIE.

Somebody kill me...

How can a 2 hour movie go on for 2 years....?

The movie ended and I LEPT to my feet. I mean, we're talking speed of light... bum to feet in .0003 seconds. I said to Francis, "It's almost curfew, better get going". Larry says, "Wait... do you have to go? Let me get your number." That was the first and only time I ever had the guts to say, "Um... that's okay" and walked out of the house.

Ewe... I think I need to take a shower. I feel CRUSTY just thinking of that story.

I don't think I'll ever eat scrambled eggs again!

What's YOUR worst date experience (try to top me I dare you!)

jps... I must add Lance the Studmuffin really was very cute, my friends never dated losers... they just dated studmuffins with loser friends....... that wanted to date me...

C-DAY!!!!

2008-08-28T13:39:00.000-07:00

I have some FABULOUS news to share with everyone today. This information was so graciously shared with me via email today and it just made my day. Being the wonderful, gracious person that I am I decided to share the love. Are you just dying to know yet? Well you'll have to wait a little longer while I pause for a commercial break for dramatic effect....

[Imagine, if you will, a clever little jingle playing in the background that makes you want to get up and dance... and spend some money...]

Simply Bliss Photography: Turning your little rugrats into models.

We make everyone else think your kid is as cute as YOU think they are! :)

Now back to our normal programming. When we left off Roman found out that Marlena was actually an alien from outerspace sent to... sorry... wrong channel. BUT now that you mention it....does anyone happen to know what is going on on Days of our Lives these day? I havent' watched it since high school, but I'm sure Beau and Hope are still having the same conversation they started when I stopped watching it a million years ago. (THAT'S how they stay so youthful and beautiful, they are frozen in the same day forever. I submit that instead of Mountain Standard Time, my state switch to DOOL standard time.)

ANYWAY.... Here's the good news...

CHOCOLATE IS ACTUALLY A VEGETABLE.

Don't believe me? I will state the case as it was presented to me. You be the judge.

What is a chocolate bar made of? Cocoa, sugar and milk.

Cocoa is extracted from the BEANS of the cocoa plant.

Beans are a vegetable.

Sugar is extracted from the sugar beat.

The sugar beat is a vegetable.

THEREFORE: CHOCOLATE IS A VEGETABLE.

It only gets better from there. To turn the chocolate into a chocolate candy bar they add milk. Milk come from cows and has calcium... therefore milk is good for you. Mix the two together....

HEAVEN.

Does life get any better than this? I submit that it does not!

For those of you NON-chocolate lovers, what is wrong with you?! Do your own homework and justify gummy worms on your own watch. I'm too busy devouring this gooey bar of deliciousness.

So, tell me... do YOU watch soap operas? Is YOUR face covered in chocolate right now too? VENT.

ps... YES Simply Bliss really IS my photographer of choice (as you can see from my little rugrats being included in the ad) She is AMAZING. And YES I am trying to capitolize on an otherwise useless blog! Want me to shamelessly shout out the praises of YOUR business? Email me: mommymustconfess@gmail.com we'll talk :)

Mother of the Year

2008-08-27T12:11:00.000-07:00

"nnnnooooo.... I don't waaant waaaterrrrr I waaannntt MIIIIILLLLLKKKKK!"

"Mommy... mommy... mommy... mooooommmmy"

"aaaahhhhhh..... nooooo waaaatttteeeerrrr..... uh oh.." crash, SPLASH

"STOOOOP WHIIIINING! YOU GUYS ARE DRIVING ME

NUTS!!!"

what a loving, nurturing mother.

I'm sorry, I had just HAD it! What is it about the year 3 mile marker that bestows on a child the beloved (I use the word beloved due to the fact that mini me seems to love it... NOT mommy) gift of whining perfection. And when you have a second child they forget to tell you that SUPRISE child #2 may or may not skip right on ahead to future stages if their big brother or sister seem to be enjoying them.

I was outnumbered and surrounded. It was like chinese water torture. Whining and moaning ALL.... DAY... LONG... drip.... drip... drip... I was bound to crack. And crack I did. I screamed at my children. Not just a scream... it was a GROWL. Have you ever read the Twilight series (yes, I enjoy the occasional vampire romance novel. Who doesn't? And yes, if everyone else decided to jump off a cliff, I would probably be airborn within moments. What?)? [If you have not partaken of the awesomness that is this series, you better do a little wearwolf research or you won't understand this:] If I were a wearwolf I would have "phased" right then and there. I must have a little canine in me however, and you would believe it if you heard the snarl that came out of my throat.

Anyway... back to the beginning....

"STOOOOP CRYYYYING! YOU GUYS ARE DRIVING ME NUTS!!!"

Not the "Parent of the Year Award" method of choice but certainly the 2 or 3 year old method of choice... and lets face it WHO GETS THEIR WAY MORE OFTEN? That's right, not choice, but EFFECTIVE in securing me the desired response: silence.

Oh, sweet silence, why are you so absent from my life? We are so good together.

Yes, my two sweet little whiners froze in their tracks and stared at me. What do you think happened next? If MY mom phased into a wherewolf in front of my eyes when I was but a toddler I would have curled up into a little ball and cried. Maybe they are more advanced than their respective 3 and 1 1/2 year old ages would suggest and they saw the error of their ways and ran to me with open arms telling me they were sorry and pleading for my forgiveness?

Oh... the silence was broken all right.

With peals of laughter.

Apparently I'm not as intimidating as I thought I was.

However, they did stop whining until bedtime so crisis averted right? Right.

UNTIL....

I noticed the back door.

Wide open.

With a whole audience of neighbors standing at the bottom of my steps with mouths hanging open to the ground.

Okay, no one was standing at my door, but they may as well have been. I'm sure my ROAR was loud enough for my parents to hear 45 min. south of where I live.

I'm still waiting for the SWAT Team to bust through my door.

If they haul me away... tell my kids I love them.

p.s. No actual children were hurt during the making or reinactment of this story. I LOVE my children and I DO NOT abuse them. I just periodically turn into a maned creature with fangs... that doesn't eat and/or hurt children in any way I might add. Plus I bought them an icecream cone later.

Also... I LOVE JACOB... GO WHEREWOLVES!

Have YOU ever been caught doing something really embarrasing?

Is anybody out there...?

2008-08-26T12:35:00.000-07:00

Do you ever feel like the crazy old lady that rambles and rambles... and RAMBLES thinking that you have amazing, wonderful, interesting things to say.... and then realize that you've been talking to yourself the whole time?... yeah... me either... or is it neither... I'm not sure.... I would worry about it if I wasn't pretty sure I was talking to myself again....

Well, if you are going to talk to yourself you might as well embrace it right?

Okay, self, [you are looking rather dashing today, I might add, in your crusty workout pants that you still haven't changed out of... some people can just pull ANYTHING off] we are going to have a little talk on something called blog etiquette.

blog etiquette [blog (picture a smiley face over the o) et-i-ket]: conventional requirements as to social behavior on a weblog; proprieties of conduct as established in any community in the blog-o-sphere
synonyms: weblog decorum, weblog propriety, don't be a butt-head behavior
see also: Blog Stalking for Dummies

Okay, okay... now I'M being a butthead. But seriously, this is something I want to talk about.

I have a HUGE confession to make. I know I make them on a daily basis, and they almost always make me look silly or just plain ridiculous. But this is my confession booth, and you as the reader (if you just read that then by my definition, YES you are one of my readers neener neener neener) are my priest. And this one is a doozy. Here goes:

I AM A BLOG STALKER

big time

Yes, as a matter of fact that is an embarrasing confession, thanks for asking.

What is a blog stalker you ask

blog stalker [blog (picture another smily face) stol-ker]: one who enjoys reading about the fun times other people have while wasting their life away sitting at a computer in their crusty old workout pants that seriously aren't as cute as they think.

see also: one who needs to get a life

Does anyone else find this blogging world addicting? I think this is my drug of choice. Now, let me clarify, I am not a creepy weird blog stalker. I do not dream about the people I read about, I do not make voodoo dolls, I will not name my next child after one of my blog heros....

although...ummmm...okay... feeling a story coming on.... I may have one time possibly been at a local fast food joint and wondered as a couple little kids on the playground scampered by why I knew their names and why their mom looked familiar and there's a slight possibility I maybe realized I recognized the family from their blog that I had seen on my husbands 10 year reunion blog. If that really had happened I would have gone up to her and fessed up and had a good laugh with her. But since it was waaaay to embarassing to be sure if that actually happened.... I didn't. BUT to my defense she was staring at me the whole time with that old, "I know you from somewhere look" so I'm pretty sure she knew my kids names too. (my blog address was also posted on the aforementioned 10 year reunion blog)

The point is, we all do it. You don't have to admit it, but you DO. It's fun. I've found several old friends that I haven't been in touch with for years through well... lets call it blog hopping that sounds so much nice than stalking. Nice that I didnt' think about that until halfway through my post.

If you are reading this right now chances are you are blog stalking me. That is fabulous. That is what I set this blog up for. Sometimes you have things to get off your chest that you just could never admit to those people that you have to look in the eye every day. So why not admit it to someone that if they passed you on the street would never know that you may or may not have peed your pants a little while laughing at your hilarious little daughter. (to those of you that I do have to look in the face in person... forget you read that last part)

HOWEVER, if you are one of my "blog hopping" buddies will you PLEASE COME OUT OF THE CLOSET? I loooove to read comments. I want to hear what people have to say. I sit at home all day talking to a 3 year old and 18 month old. My daily conversations consist of:"NO, NO, NO" "mmmmm that nummy nummy" and "yaaaaaaaay you went poo poo in the potty!" Sometimes (especially in the winter time when the kids are sick for 5 months in a row) the internet is the only place I have human contact until my hubby gets home from work and I would really like to have something more interesting to say to him than a report on the kids bathroom habits and the intriguing adventures that took place on 5 subsequent episodes of Go Diego Go. Plus, I think you will find that blog hopping is so much more fun when you get involved in the conversations that take place! We all do it, so you don't have to be embarrassed anymore that you are reading a total strangers blog. (unless you start dreaming about me, make a voodoo doll of me or consider naming your next child after me... then you may take your blog stalking elsewhere)

So tell me.... am I the only blog stalker out there (if you are the creepy kind feel free to keep your comments to yourself). Everyone else... tell me what is your funniest, most embarrasing, or heartwarming blog stalking story..

Please share!

Stop and Smell the Cupcakes

2008-08-25T08:34:00.001-07:00

I think it's time for me to take a bit of a more serious note for just a moment...

...[clear my throat]... mi mi mi... I'm a bit out of tune for the moment... if by "that moment" we mean my life.

Anyway, have any of you taken a moment to take a look at the crazy world around us and how much pure evil is going on out there? If not you are amazing, don't do it as by doing so you will marr your perfection.

Seriously.

We are living in a world that is just plain full of evil. As I sit in this plush chocolate brown leather chair, typing away on my sweet laptop that my amazing (and HOT I might add) husband so graciously gave me and my children sleep peacfully in their snuggly warm beds with full belly's the rest of the world is falling apart. Villages full of FAMILIES are being blown apart by bombs. Entire nations are starving to death. Brittney spears is bearing offspring. The fact that this moment of my life is happy, blissful even and comfortable I realize is a blessing. The best moments of MY life or yours could be the worst moment of another persons life. The moment I found out my precious little girl had gone back home to Heaven and my world came crashing down around me, another little sweetheart snuggled against her mother as the dr. laid her gently onto her mothers stomache for their first mother daughter embrace... fresh from the arms of the Lord. How can we really be expected to enjoy this life when it seems that every good thing is off set by something bad. When it seems that bad is just around the corner. It seems like when I finally conquer that dreaded vomit inducing spin class and prance triumphantly out the doors of the gym with head and arms held high, a bus is going to come careening out of no where and cream me. Does life ever seem that way to you?

I hope I didn't lose you there in my haze of "depressingness". Because we're about to make a 180. Since I lost my little girl and got into blogging, I have seen so much loss and heart ache. I have met so many wonderful, amazing people that have experienced loss from every imaginable end of the spectrum. I absolutely HATE it everytime I hear of another person that has had to bear that burden. I wish I could take the pain from them.

However, through all this pain and sadness I have seen a miricle occur. I have seen complete strangers come together and show REAL Christlike love for each other. I have seen children of God, that seem to have absolutely nothing in common and no reason to care that the other existed let alone have a reason to reach out in friendship do just that. I have seen people reach out to those in need. Lend them prayers and words of comfort and love. I've heard of people in tears, reading of a complete strangers story, genuinly hurting that someone else they've never met is hurting. I have seen LOVE. Pure unadulterated love that can come from only one source: Our Savior. And there is nothing that can offset that. Satan may try to go tit for tat with the Lord hitting us with a crisis after each blessing we receive. He can take over the media and bombard our senses with images of misery and hatred. But he can't understand or take away that light of love that burns within our hearts when we truly reach out in concern for our fellow brothers and sisters.

I believe that there is good in the world. There is love in the world. In the words of Anne Frank, "Despite everthing I believe that people are really good at heart." Good will overcome.

There are a lot of "poopoo heads" out there, in the words of my 3 year old son. And quite frankly sometimes I'd like to kick them in the shin too, because THEY STARTED IT. But when it gets down to it, even though it sometimes doesn't seem like it in the heat of the moment, this life and the challenges therein is just a speck in the spectrum of the eternity that is ours ahead of us. I really do believe that. And that is another thing that Satan can't take from me. You don't have to believe it. I will still be your friend. But it doesn't change it from being a fact and it doesn't change the fact that life is not just better when you belive that but it is actually AMAZING despite everything going on around the world and in our own lives.

That being said, every once in a while you come across someone that is truly exceptional. Someone that can stop and smell the cupcakes (or nachos in some cases, whatever your preference may be) no matter what kind of turmoil their lives may be in. Someone that seems to still find the humor in life no matter how many punches they seem to take in the ring of life.

My friend Mrs. Dub in one such person. I've never actually met her in person, but she has helped to uplift me and help me see the bright side in life during a particuarly dark period of my life. You see, she too has an angel baby. Her angel actually went back to heaven 5 days before mine. I really feel like the Lord led me to her blog as she was documenting her thoughts and feelings about this bittersweet experience, and it helped me to take on the positive (usually) outlook that I have on the mission my sweet little angel was called on.

It seems like her family has been hit with one thing after another, and they have are about to take another punch today. Her dad has been diagnosed with cancer and is having his esophogas removed today. I don't know them personally, but from what I know of their daughter, their family will take the punch and get right back up and continue the fight. BUT I know no matter how strong you or anyone else thinks you are you can always use the Lords help and you can always use as many prayers as you can get to solicit such help from our Father in Heaven.

So many of my friends responded to my prayer request for Baby Macs family, I thought I would solicit a few more prayers in the behalf of another person none of us know, but who makes the world a little brighter place for those that do come across her.

Thank you!

He he he

2008-08-24T20:18:00.000-07:00

Is there anything in this world more giggle inducing than the high pitched squeels of delight of a baby?!

Other than a little toot escaping from that cute dainty little thing?

Yes... I swear on EVERYTHING that was my daughter, not her mommy!

If you happen to run into her down the road sometime, please don't tell her about this video... I'd like to not be UNinvited to her wedding someday...

Campaign 2008

2008-08-22T11:50:00.000-07:00

CRASH...BOOM..HISS...AAAAAHHHH

HIT THE DECK!!!

World War three was erupting in my living room. I came running... praying it wasn't too late. As the smoke cleared I discovered the heart of the action: two little boys flailing around on floor fighting for their very lives.

"NO YOU DOOOOOON'T"

"YES I DOOOO!"

"POOPOO HEAD"

"NO YOU ARE!

"NO YOOOOOU ARE!"

TIME OUT!!!

Oh how I wish at times like these that phrase had the same impact they did on Saved By the Bell. That the world around me would freeze as it was and I could remove the frozen soldiers from their death grips and reposition them to opposite sides of the... globe... SERIOUSLY.

Unfortunately life doesn't work like that so (sans appropriat bomb defusing attire) I entered the warzone and pried the two combatants off each other.

Okay, lets solve this diplomatically.

Defendant #1 state your case.

"He says he has Cocoa Puffs at his house, but he DOESN'T.. I DO!"

Defendant #2 interjects: "YES I DOOOO YOU DON'T!"

Seriously? I shouldn't be suprised. I really wouldn't be suprised if the real WW3 was initiated over such a life or death disagreement. After all wars are usually started by men...

I stood in the middle of them with a palm to each little head holding them back from each other as we resolved the situation and each eventually submitted to the fact that it was okay for both of them to have Cocoa Puffs at each of their respective homes.

Whew catastrophe averted.

Add war diplomat to my resume.

Here is why being a boy is great, though. They were about to end each others lives one minute and the next:

Best buds again!

Maybe I should head down to Afghanistan and put Osama bin Laden in a headlock. Wouldn't that save a lot of time and money? Then maybe we could focus on something more important like getting these gosh dang oil/grocery/everything else prices down so that I can once again afford a good pedicure!

The moral of THIS story:

VOTE MOMMY FOR PRESIDENT

TRAUMA

2008-08-20T20:40:00.001-07:00

OOOhhhhhhhh I had suuuch a hard day yesterday.

The torture began the moment my eyelids fluttered open at 8:00 am. I had had a pretty rough night. I didn't get to bed until 9pm the night before, so as you can imagine I was still not quite ready to be awake yet. But, much to my chagrin, my empty belly would not allow me the luxury of snoozing a little bit longer. Hunger was gnawing at my vacant gut and I had nothing within my reach with which to satiate this excrutiating pain. Where was my servant?! (Yup, I sure do have a servant, they are great, I HIGHLY suggest you get one for yourself) Why did she not predetermine this need and have sustenance waiting for me when I awoke? Did she not care if I shrivel up and died of starvation?! So I did what any reasonable person would do: I cried.

Think what you will of me, but it got me what I wanted. My servant came RUNNING and within moments I was at the table with a nice bowl of Marshmallow Matey's waiting for me to dig in. I devoured the sugar encrusted dream that was my breakfast (I may have cracked a tooth or two in the process I might add) and when I was done I promptly threw my nearly empty bowl on the floor. What? I said thank you! But what did my hideously ungrateful servant do? She yells at me. Something about making a mess... yadda yadda yadda. I was much too hurt to focus on a word she said. Honestly, sometimes I think she speaks alien! See where this is going?! My life is such a mess!

Then it was time to get dressed. Oh, what to wear?! How do you choose when you are as cute as I am? I finally settled on the perfect outfit and threw myself on the floor so my servant could dress me. UUuuuuugh... don't you hate it when they tickle you and blow on your belly when they are dressing you?! Oh... mine doesn't do that either. Anyway, I spent about 20 minutes admiring myself in the mirror and then I was off to the business of my day.

This is where the REAL catastrophe began. I had responsibilities to tend to, and people were taking my stuff! Seriously! I couldn't find ANYTHING! I screamed for my servant to come right away and find my pirated belongings, and....she....told....me.....JUST A MINUTE. AAAHHHH seriously, no one cares. So I cried again. My servant was definitely annoyed and muttered her alien jibberish under her breath, but whatever, I got what I wanted. She can't stay mad at me and she knows it. I flashed her my best grin and all annoyance disappeared. Good girl. I've trained her well. Now if I could juuuust train her to be more prompt. And to read minds, that would be great too.

Well, it was definitely a rough morning so I needed a little rest. I had already been up for about 4 hours!!! I melted into my luxurious mattress as soon as I touched down. I was just entering dreamland when all of the sudden I was awakend by something squidgy and uncomfortable. Oh no, I pooped my pants again. Drats. Wouldn't YOU cry if you pooped your pants right as you were just getting comfortable. Don't lie, I know you would. And I did. My servant kept yelling through my door for me to stop crying and go to sleep. Excuse me, how do you go to sleep with this stuff in your pants? How embarrasing. She finally gave in and helped me clean up and it was back to sleep.

The rest of my day was a stressful blur waiting for what I wanted, not getting my way, and flying food. Did I mention a lot of tears? Stress will do that to you. So will bonking your head on the floor when you throw yourself down on the ground in an effort to illustrate your immediate life or death need to someone that JUST DOESN'T GET IT. Mine is an exhausting life. Good help is so hard to come by.

The end of the day finally arrived. I had survived, though barely. I can't even begin to imagine the trama that awaits me when I wake up in the morning. Maybe my servant will step it up tomorrow and start determining my needs before I have to throw a fit. Someday she'll learn.

The story you have just read is true, the events are accurately depicted as they took place... the star of the story: no, it wasn't me, I will give credit where credit is due. Little Miss Thang (or Paris Hilton... same difference) plays the role of martyr.

Although I didn't actually poop my pants a little pee may or may not have leaked out when I laughed at little missy painstakingly checking out her belly button in the mirror...but who can be sure.

The moral of this story:

LIFE IS HARD WHEN YOU ARE 1 1/2.

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree...

2008-08-20T13:09:00.000-07:00

In case you are wondering... yes... this is MY 18 month old daughter sitting on the floor eyes glued to the boob tube, with a binky in her mouth clutching her bottle and blaket for dear life.

I made her do some yoga to make me feel better about my child wasting her life away and rotting her mind in front of the tv...

....but apparently that wore her out...

and it was back to couch potatoe mode again.

...yes I am a bad mother.

...yes, she learned this from me.

What are YOUR bad habits?
Do YOU still cling to your binky too?

p.s.... in my own defense: she doesn't usually take babas anymore and the blanky and binky are for nigh nigh only. However it's no holds bar when I am babysitting my friends baby.

pps...if you understood the above stated sentence you are either a mommy or you will make a superb one someday... male or female...

Sunday with the Garners

2008-08-19T12:20:00.000-07:00

Oh joy, I've been Bag Tagged. You've heard of this right? Take all the contents out of your bag or purse and take a picture of it all as it is RIGHT NOW.

Of all days to be bag tagged, I get the opportunity on a Monday. Of course I haven't cleaned it out from church yesterday. What do you think I am... clean?!

Well, I thought this provided the perfect opportunity to provide all you lucky people a sneak peak into a Sunday with the Garners. Lets take a little walk through the contents of my diaper bag. Keep your arms and legs inside at all times and enjoy the ride. Also, if you need to puke, please refrain until after the ride is over and we provide you with a convenient, ridiculously small barf bag. Thank you.

First of all diapers. Notice there are two of them. Lets see if any of you mommy's out there can relate. You are sitting in Sacrament meeting. Your baby is uncharacteristically still and quiet. If only he/she wasn't facing away from you so you could see her perfect cherubic little face has changed from a creamy ivory color to tomatoe red. Then it hits you... a stench that smacks you in the face like a neuclear shock wave. People around you are dropping like flies in the wake of this green mushroom cloud. Then your beautiful, petite little child looks up at you and grins the most angellic little grin. But you won't be fooled. You know what "unangelic" fate awates you.

You think you'd better wait until the little "stinker" is done but people are throwing eye daggers at you and you are pretty sure the real daggers aren't far behind. The "you can't wait a second longer" deal is sealed when your 3 year old starts announcing to the entire congregation, "EEEEEWWWWWEEEEEE mommy, [insert name] POOPED his/her pants! That's sick huh mommy! We don't dooky in our pants we go in the potty!" Good thing you packed the diapers on the bottom of the bag with the hopes that maybe if they aren't conveniently located you won't need them. You fumble your way through unpacking your bag flinging the contents thereof all over the floor and bench as said 3 year old is calling out that he must have every item he sees.

Finally you reach the diapers and fly out the door that the ushers have been holding open for you for 10 minutes in hopes that you would eventually use them. As you "unpackage" your child you are cooing such phrases to him/her such as, "How does such a big stink come out of such a cute little body?" "what do you have for mommy in there bubba/sissy?" and "PUsa!" You know it's true mommy love when you brave those toxic fumes to give your little one a rasberry on their cute little tummy before digging into the contents inside that diaper. Come on, it's just cute to resist, it's just begging for you to blow some spit on it. You've put it off long enough.

Now comes the moment of truth. What IS in there anyway?! You open it up, and there is nothing but a little yellow mark.

It was JUST GAS How can a bunch of air particles make you gag like that?!

Well you're already here. Might as well get him/her into a clean diaper so they can be extra comfy and happy through the rest of the 3 hour block. You change the baby, give him/her another raspberry just for good measure and off you go back into the waiting arms of your hubby in sacrament meeting.

You've finally relaxed when all of the sudden little mis/mister starts grunting... here we go again.

Good thing we packed 2 diapers. Good thing I already re-packed the diaper bag.

Jivin'. (our family's expletive of choice)

I told you mommys talk about poop alot.

p.s.

I tend to ramble so explanation of the other contents will have to come at another time, or this diaper bag is NEVER going to get cleaned out. STAY TUNED.

Wimp Torture Device

2008-08-18T12:51:00.000-07:00

Oooooohhhh... my legs were going to fall off. My head was going to EXPLODE. I was pretty sure I was going to asperate the throwup that I was pretty sure was just waiting for the perfect moment to come spewing out in olympic projectile style spraying all over the perfect perky little face of my spin instructor. Can you go blind from a steady stream of sweat flooding your eyes? I swear I'm seeing halos.

UUUUUGGGGGHHHH... SERIOUSLY WHO DOES THIS FOR FUN?!

really?!

Okay, I have to make a confession. It wasn't even a real spin class. Real spin classes stretch out the bloody, sweaty torture for an hour or more. This was just a 15 minute spin rotation in the boot camp class I attended.

Another confession: my instructor wasn't perky. But it was easier to hate her and wish vomit on her thinking of her in that way. At least she kept quiet and avoided such nausea inducing phrases as "Yaaaay you can do it!", or "Smile through the pain girlies!" or my favorite: "Remember we're working off Mister Ghetto Booty!" Don't name my butt. Ever.

The bikes have a speedometer of sorts on them that tell you how fast you are going. She told us not to go under 85 rpm (? I think that is the measuring unit of choice?) Seriously I was going as fast as my little legs could take me and I could not get that stupid thing over 80.

It must have been broken.

Of course I, thinking I had something to prove (though I'm not sure WHO to), took a bike in the very front so that I wouldn't be tempted to wimp out. Seems like a good plan... expect when the opposite happens and every just sees you wimp out, and possibly go blind. I had to get up 3 times to go get a drink, because sticking out my touch and gulping down the torrents of sweat just wasnt' keeping me hydrated. It's likeunto drinking sea water I guess. I'm pretty sure there were more germs living in my sweat than you would find in a glass of sea water though. Maybe that was lending to the blindness. Poison can make you go blind right?

Anyway, back to the torture. I wouldn't let myself stop. I couldn't. If my instructor had been a bouncy little cheerleader I probably could've walked out and not felt so bad. If I would have run into her later she would have given me a big hug and told me that she thought I did a great job, next time I'd do even better and that my sweaty crusty workout pants were sooooo cute. But, the instructor was a drill sargent. She didn't say much but she didn't have to. I was sitting right in front of her and all she had to do was let her eyes drill holes through my head (wait...THAT is the blindness explanation I knew I smelled burnt flesh when I walked out of there). I couldn't stop. I had to prove I was just as tough as her. She wasn't going to intimidate me. No sir!

"Okay, now I want you to take it up to 90. Don't go under 90. Push yourselves." Ummm... my bike doesn't go up that high. Really, I tried. I pumped my short little legs just as fast as I could possibly get them. You know those veins on the side of your head that sit right about at your temples? You don't want know what it looks like when they burst. But I'm pretty sure that's why my face was purple. Then she hits us with, "Up to 100 for the last 2 minutes. You can do this, push through the burn." YES SIR DRILL SARGENT SIR. There was just no question. We would do it, whether it killed us or not, we would keep going. Anyway, you can do anything for 2 minutes right? When you wake up 2 minutes before your alarm goes off you blink and times up.

Not. In. Spin class.

I tried to find my happy place. Mmmmmm icecream. Great gooey gobs of cookie dough, or chocolate icecream calling my name, dripping from my lips onto a new crisp white shirt..... then the haze wears off and you realize you're not in icecream heaven, but in spin class you know where. But good news, when you space off time flies by so we must be almost done. Good thing too because I was just about to my limit. I was fighting a war with my legs. They wouldn't go any farther. I told them they must. But you hear the amazing olympic stories: when you are at the home stretch, right when you think you can't go any farther, you dig deep and you find just enough strength to pull you past that finish line. And that's what I did. I didn't think it was there, but I reached in deep and found my last reserve... I was going to do this! And then I was going to puke.... BUT I would puke victoriously!

I can't believe it, I can't believe I survived, I pushed myself past my limit!

I CAN DO ANYTHING!

"Only a minute thirty seconds left girls!"

WHAT THE?! It's only been 30 seconds?!

I quit.

ps... I didn't really quit... but I think I may have spewed projectile vomit on her stone-like face.

pps... I saw the instructor in the halls at the gym this morning. She smiled and told me my work out pants were cute. She seems like a cool girl. Maybe I'll give the class one more try.

ppps... the above picture is not me. It is actually Keanu Reeves. I thought it was appropriate because he looks just as silly on this "hog" as I did on the spin bike. How come no one is paying photogs thousands of dollars to snap ridiculous pictures of me?!

Life Perspective...

2008-08-14T20:34:00.000-07:00

Warning: This is DEEP

My hubby is out of town a lot lately and all these solitary nights have left me a lot of time for some deep introspection. Time to really ponder the true meaning and purpose behind my life. To really reflect on what it is that drives me forward. I came to a startling conclusion last night. I have come to the realization that life truly does take place in chapters. While we are travelling through a particular stage in life it feels like that stage will never end and it is hard to envision what life was like before we started that particular adventure. In retrospect there are some times of my life that seem like a completely different book. It feels so far removed from my present day situation that it hardly seems like it is me playing a starring role in that story... times like the care free days of high school, or my blissful days of lounging by the pool at the good old 'Riv' in Happy Valley, or yesterdays breakfast... seems like so long ago...

But I have come to a startling conclusion. One that was so simple so right in my face that I can't believe it has taken me all these years to see it. While life is made up of different stages each of these stages can be put into one of two categories: The stages where we are obsessed with poo and the stages that we are not.

Here me out on this one.

We start out life in a "not caring" stage. We go at will. Whether sitting in the bathtub, in church or 5 minutes after we FINALLY fell asleep after hours of rocking, swaying and begging from our mothers. We could care less (that one was for you Meili) about what kind of mess we made down there, but we sure broke a few eardrums alerting our parents to the treasure we had waiting for them.

Then we hit the toddler age and we realize poop is the coolest thing on the planet. Seriously. Nothing is more awesome to my 3 year old than feces. He needs his privacy when he poops, but you better come look at it when he's done. "Wow! That was a big one!" he shouts triumphantly. Think it's just a boy thing? Oh no, little Miss Thang is right there fighting for a spot to wave bye bye as we flush the #2 down the toilet. You don't even have to be in the presence of the foul stuff. There is nothing more hysterical to Mister Mischief that the word poop. It doesn't have to be in the context of anything. It doesn't have to come up in a conversation. We could be sitting in total silence and all of the sudden he shouts, "Poo Poo" and proceeds to have a spaz attack.

I think that the "Poop is cool stage" never really ends for most males. I need only one word to prove this theory: Blue Darts.

But for the rest of us we pass through that stage and the foul stuff is appropriately "icky" again.

Then we become parents. All that we have been taught goes out the window. "We don't talk bathroom talk", we don't "watch other people go to the bathroom", we don't "sing and dance when aforementioned person drops the Cosby Kids off at the pool" (sorry, I hope I didn't offend anyone with that one...). No, we forget all the good ettiquette our parents ever taught us when we become parents. Ever been to a mommy/kiddie playgroup? If you don't have kids, you are a dad, or you have held fast to the values your parents have instilled in you you may want to avoid that one. Yes, we mommy's take pride in talking about our childrens bathroom habits or dis-habits (this is my blog- I WILL make up words at will). Know what totally made my day yesterday? When I caught my 18 month old grunting and ran her to the bathroom in time for her to make her own little contribution to the Potty Fairies (wouldn't it be great if teeth weren't the only thing we got quarters for?!) It is a sad reality. But with two young kids, one almost done with potty training (except for at night) and one about (hopefully) to embark on it I definitely fall under this category.

I look forward to the day when I can once again be revolted by the thought of having to wipe another persons butt.

Bunco or Bunko... that is the question...

2008-08-13T10:03:00.001-07:00

Okay... I was all prepared with a killer post but SHE beat me to it.

I have nothing to add to this.

Except a picture of my killer battle scars from our roudy divin' dice edition of it last night.

but I got my extra 5 points so it was well worth it.

Mommy Must Confess...

2008-08-09T14:21:00.000-07:00

I LOVE these kids...

More than anything in the whole wide world!

2008-08-08T13:28:00.000-07:00

My home... no my LIFE has been taken over by midgets!

Some of you may say that I qualify as one who is vertically challenged... BUT I'm talking about elves. Real live little imps that cause mischief and disarray. Objects suspiciously disappearing... and mysteriously REappearing in such places as my shoes, the toilet... most obnoxiously the NOSES of my perfect, un-naughty little children. Messes magically REappear moments after I have cleaned them. ...MY children would never cause such a disaster. Unidentified malodious vapors coming from my spotless childrens rooms.

These little trouble makers have also taken over my car. When I start the car Justin Timberlake (YES, I love the curly mopped beebopper) has been replaced by beebopping frogs belting out another obnoxious version of the abc song. That same gag reflex-inducing smell from the kids rooms has also taken over the car. And the back of my car, previously luxuriously spacious begging for me to go shopping to fill it with treasure is now busting at the seams with strollers, bikes, porta cribs and all sorts of unrecognizable midget proportioned trinkets.

Lets not even get into my purse. That is just embarassing. Lets just say that should you ever take part in a scavenger hunt, come to my house. You'll find everything you need in my elephant bag. What happened to the days when the only thing I slung over my shoulder that was busting at the seam was my wallet spilling over with the bounty of money I made as.... oh... an administrative assistant?! (nevermind)

Since when did child bearing give your life (and your sanity at times) over to the chaotic, naughty whims of the whimsical and previously fictional elves of our childhood fairy tales. I feel as if I have been lied to my entire life. "No Sarah "Justin" (my imaginary trouble making friend) is not real, YOU must have made this mess. Well, I am an adult now and I must insist... MESSES AND MISCHIEF can be caused by unseen forces. I give my word, that if I ever HAPPEN to stuff a thousand cotton balls down the toilet causing it to flood the entire neighborhood... I will take credit for it. Until then... does anyone have the number for a good imp exterminator?!

Mister Negotator

2008-08-06T07:16:00.000-07:00

"Mommy, come sit with me on the chair." my little boy gives me an irrisistible grin and pats the couch beside him. My heart melts.

I told him an hour ago it was bedtime. He went willingly; jumped on my back and we galloped into his bedroom. He knelt beside his bed and said, "Mommy, I want to say prayers tonight." He thanks Heavenly Father for our blessings, for our family and that mommy is a 'good cooker'. He asks that his Daddy come home safely and closes, 'love thee, in the name of Jesus Christ amen.' My heart is swelling with pride.

"Good night bud, " I start to say.

"Now I want to sing you a song Mommy." and he sings me every song he's ever learned in nursery.

"You are a very good singer bud! Now it's time to go to..."

"Wait mommy, I want to talk to you!"

"What do you want to talk about bud?"

"Hmmmm... lets see... lets talk about the animals at the zoo...."

....starting to see where this is going? But I have to give him points for his negotiating skills. Those will come in handy some day right? If his words aren't always convincing that sly little smile will get me every time!

So he proceeds to tell me all about the zoo: we don't like the snakes, they get you all slimy. Bet you didn't know the monkeys are always mad and will punch you in the face...you do now. 'You dont' need to be scared of the bears mommy, they can't eat you they keep them in bear cages.' and on and on and on. His tale is so entertaining I can't bear to leave him so when he suggests we move our story time to the living room I am sold and I tell him 5 more minute.... what a sucker.

Then, comes his adorable invitation to snuggle with him on the couch as I am closing all the blinds. I smile and make my way over to sit with my favorite little story teller. Oh, how I love this little boy!

"....but you have a big bum mommy, so I'll have to sit on your lap."

....back to bed....

ooooohhhhh sooooo close... and yet so far....

Miricles

2008-08-04T20:53:00.000-07:00

Did anyone hear about this story?

I don't listen to talk radio very often... actually I dont listen to much radio at all these days since we invested in our killer mini van that has a tv and dvd player in it (yup...I sure do sport a mini van... I get more and more stereotypical every time I write don't I?) . Since then I spend my trips to my exciting destinations such as Walmart either talking to myself or singing along to the Leap Frog Letter Factory (highly reccommend it btw! the movie not talking to yourself...) BUT my husband listens to it [talk radio] every once in a while. Monday morning I was driving him to the airport and we were listening to KSL talk radio. They posed an interesting question that really got me thinking:

"Do you believe in miricles?"

Hmmm... well yes, I've always been taught to believe in miricles. I've gone to church all my life. I've been taught about all the amazing miricles our Savior performed when he walked the earth. I've been taught about the miricles prophets throught the Old Testament and the apostles performed. I've been taught that the Savior lives on today. That His gospel has been restored to this earth. That a prophet of God has once again been called to lead His church. I've also been taught that because of that miricles continue today.

I've been taught all those things. But do I BELIEVE them?

Some would ask how I could possibly believe in them. I didn't get my miricle I asked for almost 6 months ago.

As Brett and I drove to the hospital on February 8 to be induced to deliver the earthly remains of our daughter we talked about how suprisingly at peace we felt about everything that was happening. Just an hour before I had seen the ultrasound devoid of a heart beat. The dr. had showed me the umbilical chord that had no movement of blood going through it. I could feel my body starting to cramp up, rejecting what it knew was not right.

I knew I could not feel my daughter moving.

And yet, as we drove to the hospital, as I waited for 7 hours for her to arrive, even as I could feel her coming... I prayed. I knew what reality was and really I felt at peace with it, but I still had this little ray of hope that somehow, some way I would get a miricle. That Savannah would pop out and scare the poop out of us with a rip roaring cry. "Psych! Here I am." It doesn't make sense, I know that, I KNEW that. But I still prayed that somehow the dr. was wrong and that everything was okay. And that I'd get to take her home with me, and we'd laugh about the silly drs mistake as we told stories about her at her wedding dinner. If Jesus Christ could raise Lazarus from the dead, surely he could give me one little miricle right?

But we didn't get our miricle.

Or did we?

When the Lord says that he wants us to become as a child (Mosiah 3:19) I guess he didn't mean be whiny when we don't get our way.

I've witnessed plenty of miricles in my day. I've seen my dad happen to get checked out on a whim just in time to find 6 blocked arteries and survive a 6 bipass heart surgery. I've seen my father in law feel the need to get checked out by the dr. just in time to save his life from a very serious pulmonary embolism. When Miss Thang was born the nurse told Brett that he couldn't tell him how many still births he'd seen resulting from the kind of tight knot that she had in her chord.

Based on science alone each of the above mentioned people should be dead, and Savannah should be alive. Why do you think that is? My opinion: miricles DO still exist. But they are according to the will and plan on our Father in Heaven that bases those plans around our reaching our ultimate goal of happiness. I believe that we all are individually known to the Lord... although no matter how hard I try I cannot even begin to comprehend it. I also believe that we each have our own roles in the eternal scheme that He has cooked up. The Lord wants to give us what will make us happy, he wants to give us our miricles. But because He wants us to have the ultimate happiness possible He gives us our miricles when they will lead us in that direction.

But I think that that, in and of itself is the biggest miricle of all.

There are a lot of unhappy people in this world resulting from not understanding that.

But what do you think? Do you believe in miricles? Or are there only chances of fate as we plug along on the 3rd rock from the sun?

Who's THAT kids mom...?!

2008-08-04T13:12:00.000-07:00

...when I have kids... they'll NEVER behave like that!

That's what I told myself before I was a mommy. I would sit in sacrament meeting discusted with all the future hoodlums that were jumping on the pews, fighting with their siblings and turning the lights on and off. When I had kids they would be perfect. They would sit quietly on the pew with their arms folded, reading their Book of Mormon Stories quiet book and every once in a while the would lay their precious little heads against me and REVERENTLY whisper, "Mommy, I love you."

HAHAHAHAHA....

little did I know...

Don't get me wrong, my kids do pretty well for a 3 year old and 18 month old. I haven't had to chase them up on the stand... yet. BUT everyone in my ward knows what I'M wearing each week because inevitably all eyes are on me as I am dragging one of my little cherubs out because the reverent, reflective time that they are passing the sacrament is just such a cherry opportunity to make a public service announcement that SOMEONE has to go poop. Nice. It's alright, I don't mind the snickers... I'm right there with everyone else snickering at the little girl that decides to show everyone her Pony panties during the primary program!

I will admit that I am kind of a strict mom, and sometimes I think I forget how young my kids are and what their capabilities are. Also, I guess I'm worrying too much about what those other couples that haven't been blessed with the opportunity of parenthood are thinking. I'm the mean mom that is fighting my kids to actually sit on the bench through sacrament just waiting for that perfect vision of mine to come true, and in the mean time causing more of a commotion than anything. Then just when I think we're starting to conquer sacrament meeting I am informed that little Mister Mischief has been acting a little "aggressively" in nursery. In lay mans terms: my kid is THAT kid. Who's THAT kids mom?!

There has to be a happy medium between understanding your kids developmental abilities and teaching them appropriate social behavior.

Any words of wisdom? REALLY I want to know!!!

Off to Girls Camp I Go...

2008-07-28T11:58:00.001-07:00

God Blessed the Broken Road

2008-07-24T22:26:00.001-07:00

How strange it is to see in hindsight how different lifes path turns out than you ever imagined it would.

Exactly a year ago today we found out that we were pregnant with our little angel baby, Savannah . Wow, what a whirlwind of emotions I felt that day. Ecstatic to have another little one join or family. Terrified at how I was going to juggle three children under 3. Extremely fertile.

Savannah's story is really long so I won't share it in it's entirety. But I would like to share the background to her joining our family so that those of you that don't know us can understand a little more about why she means so much to our family and why we know that she's not just an "accident of nature" or the "miscarriage mom had years ago", but an actual member of our eternal family.

Last June my husband came to me and said, "I feel really strongly that we need to have another baby now." I laughed. Not just a little giggle, but a rip roarin' belly laugh. What's so funny you ask? Ummm... my baby was only 5 months old. My oldest was barely two. I am not wonder woman. Catch my drift?

He said, "No, I know I've teased you about it before, but I'm serious this time. I feel really strongly about it. Will you at least pray about it?"

"No."

I didnt' want to pray about it because I could already feel in my heart what the answer was going to be. But, of course, I've learned the hard way in the past what happens when you say no to the Lord so we decided to just "see what happens" thinking that it would take at least a couple of months.

On July 25 of last year we had a family reunion at Lagoon (a local theme park). I wasn't late yet, but I decided to take a test "just in case" so that I could ride all the crazy make you vomit roller coaster rides without feeling guilty. Much to our suprise it came back positive. So what would anyone do in that situation...? We took another test. It couldn't possibly be right. You see I still had not had a full on period (sorry for being so graphic!) since Sami because I had just barely stopped nursing her. But sure enough, we got the same results. This baby was obviously meant to come when she did.

I didn't ride any rides that day.

We had lot of people remind us of how crazy we were and how hard it was going to be. TRUST ME, I knew how much I DIDN'T know what I was getting myself into. There were many sleepless night worrying and wondering how I was possibly going to handle three little babies. Wondering why the Lord would ask this of ME of all people. But I knew that he HAD asked this of us and that he would provide a way for things to work out. And He did.

Savannah was born still at 35 weeks on February 9, 2008. She was perfect, except for the fact that her heart was not beating. They have never been able to determine a reason for her death. Until the moment I held that little girl in my arms I never realized how deep and amazing the gift of motherhood is. You are not just given a cute little body. Each child that is given to us comes with the added gift of pure, Christ-like LOVE. You don't have to spend time with them, or get to know them to love them beyond comprehension. That's why we love them so much. It's a love beyond what the mortal body is capable of. It is immortal. It is a gift from Him. And we feel it for every child whether they grasp our finger or not.

Have I ever worried that she went straight back to Heaven because the Lord doubted my ability to handle raising three very young children at the same time? You bet. I have spent a lot of time on my knees praying to the Lord to forgive me for complaining to Him, or doubting His ability to provide a way to make all things possible.

HOWEVER, this experience has revealed to me a tiny glimpse of the true nature of our Savior. The Lord knows each of us better than we know ourselves. He knows what we are capable of and what we will be capable of. He knows what we need in order to progress to in the end become more like him. He can also see what the end results of any situation is going to be before we do.

My daughter was never meant to stay. None of these little ones that get to go straight back to the loving arms of our Savior are. They aren't taken away to punish us. The Lord has a plan. If His plan was for my baby to stay with me she would have and He would have provided a way for us to juggle the chaos of the next few years because we were willing to do what He asked... even if we didn't immediately understand how it would work.

No, He had an even better plan in mind for our little family. For some unknown reason, we found favor enough with Him to blessed to add to our eternal family a soul so valiant that she didn't need to prove herself. She just needed to come receive a body that she will use in that great day that we are all reunited with our larger scope eternal family- that of our our Heavenly Father.

Sometimes the mortal side of me wins out and I do feel picked on, I won't lie. Why do other babies gaze into their mothers eyes when they are born and mine lay limply in my arms with her face covered up? I don't cry anymore, because of the healing hands of our Savior. But I would be lying if I said those thoughts don't creep into my head every once in a while, and who is going to benefit if I lie?

But, this much I can say. That our lives have so much more meaning than just the happy and sad experiences that we have on this earth. We are working toward something so much bigger. We are working toward perfecting ourselves, thanks to the miricle of the Saviors atonement for us, so that we can one day have all that He has. Isn't that an amazing thought? Things that seem so sad to us now are so trivial when compared to all that we have been promised. Lose a loved one? You'll be together someday. Lose a job? Once you pass through this life, you'll be given so much more than any paycheck could give you. Thunder thighs? Our bodies will be perfected one day.

So in the long run, no, I don't feel picked on that my daughter didn't get to stay.

I feel honored to be part of her journey.

p.s...Please pray for this family: babymckallister.blogspot.com they are just beginning their journey and can use all the prayers they can get.

My Top 10 Most Embarassing Confessions...

2008-07-24T07:42:00.001-07:00

Okay, lets put it all out on the table... that way you can start with lowered expectations of me and then it's all up from there right?

10. I check my blogs about a hundred times a day to see what my "stats"are and if anyone has left me a comment.

9. I had a crush on Dan Akroyd on Ghost Busters when I was little.

8. I can/have eaten an entire carton of icecream by myself in one sitting... doesn't matter what kind, I doubt I tasted much.

7. I love chemistry... the real text book kind. Although I also love the real at home with my hubby kind too!

6. I can still sing then entire theme song from The Fresh Prince of Bel Aire verbatim.

5. I watch re-runs of The Fresh Prince of Bel Aire on Nick at Night.

4. A show I watched as kid now airs on Nick at Night.

3. When I was younger I looked like this:

2. In 6th grade my friends told me that I had a jello butt that jiggled when I ran, so I tried to tighten my butt muscles when I ran and ended up being called an ostrich in stead.

1. I am originally from Arkansas and my parents may/may not be my cousins/siblings... it's yet to be determined.... but I still have all my teeth thank you!

....um...

I wrote this list in the hopes that others would respond with confessions of their own and make me feel better about myself...

feel free

So Good News....

2008-07-23T09:44:00.000-07:00

I lived.

It's good news for me anyway.

AAAAAHHHHH (scream of terror, not sigh of relief)

2008-07-23T06:51:00.000-07:00

My hands are shaking. My palms are moist. I'm seriously supressing the urge to shriek out in terror. I'm soooo nervous. I'm about to embark on a journey I've been avoiding since before I got married....

I'M HEADED TO THE GYM....

AAAAAAHHHHHH (imagine a blood curdling Hitchcock scream)

Yes... it's true... I haven't worked out since before I was married. I guess I'm one of those stereotypical gals that quit trying once she got her man and decides to start trying again a couple weeks before her 10 year reunion as if 1 or 2 visits (lets be honest I probably won't make it more than that!) will erase 10 years of neglect...

(let me breathe for a minute that was a long sentence).

Okay, that was an overstatement. I do try to look good for my man. I've just let lugging around my sumo babies and walking out to the mailbox constitute working out for me for a while. I've been basically barefoot and pregnant or nursing since 3 months after I got married (wow, now I'm really stereotypical). Now I'm out of excuses.

I don't know what to expect. I can't walk up the stairs from my basement without taking a rest break. What happens if I go too slow on the treadmill and it eats me? You have to sign a waiver when you join the gym they they can't be held responsible in the event of injury and/or death. WHAT THE...?! Seriously, is that a possibility? DEATH?! They need to be more specific and let me know what I'm facing. Death by treadmill consumption. Death by 500 lb weight being hurled at my head by Goliath? What are we facing here?

Exactly why I've been avoiding the gym..

Erin... how did I let you talk me into this...?

Time Out

2008-07-22T12:33:00.000-07:00

Okay, the time has come... I'm coming out of the closet...

Here goes...

I AM LIKE THE BIGGEST SAVED BY THE BELL FAN EVER!

Okay, now that I've gotten that off my chest we can proceed? Are we still friends? Actually, come to think of it, if you don't also looove SBTB we probably weren't friends in the first place so I won't worry about it.

What isn't there to love about Saved by the Bell? They were way cool kids that got to be in music videos, hob nob with celebrities that just HAPPENED to visit their high school, and have parties in the principals office-sans prinicipal. More importantly... they could freeze time. HELLO wouldn't THAT come in handy? No more "working out our problems". No more "compromising with other people". No more "listening to our kids wining for the billionth time that they are hungry"- geez get off my back...

No, all you would have to do when a situation came up that you didn't feel like dealing with is put your hands in a T and say, "Time Out" (or times for short) and the world around you would freeze right where they were and you'd be free to think about a solution, run away, or shut someone in a locker. You may even have an invisible audience to converse with about the undetermined solution to said predicament. When you were done you simply say, "Time in" and the world would continue on as if nothing ever happened.

This would come in hand in all kinds of situations. Someone says something funny or sarcastic to you and you're not as quick on your feet as you'd like... just freeze time...boom... all the time you want to look up a witty comment (or ask your invisible audience for one). Get in an argument with your amazing husband that never forgets ANYTHING and you're scrambling for a good comment... yell TIMEOUT... and boom! extra time to come up with a comeback (the ability to go back in time to check out and verify past events that HE can remember, but you can't would come in handy for this one too). Sitting in traffic for an infinity hours because UDOT can't finish a project and no one else in the free world knows how to drive? Freeze the rest of the world and drive right around them.

Seriously, why can't life be more like Bayside High?!

(and while we're at it, why can't I have Kelly Kapowski's killer abs?!)

Tell me you don't love Saved by the Bell NOW!

mmmmm bacon...

2008-07-21T12:53:00.000-07:00

Is there anything in the world cuter than a running baby?

I submit that there is not!

Look at those cute little thighs... I just want to eat them up! No seriously... who doesn't love baby chubb? The chubbier the baby the better if you ask me, and neither of my babies have had any problems with that. Which is why they are both lucky that they've made it this far without their mommy gobbling them up!

Doesn't have the same effect for grownups though does it?!

Who the H decided to make skin and bones the beauty "norm"? Am I just lazy or does anyone else think that it would be soooo much easier to convince the rest of the world that obese is the new anorexic and go back to eating our cookie dough and NON diet Dr. Pepper for breakfast? Seriously. We did it in high school. In fact in high school a typical day consisted of a candy bar out of the vending machine for breakfast as I barreled into 1st period 10 minutes late. A bag of chips and a Mtn. Dew for lunch and a jumbo sized curley fry from Arbys at the food court on my way to work at the mall. Did I think twice about how I was clogging up my arteries and "stretching the capacity of my fat cells" (as a gym teacher once told me)? Um... no. I didn't need to. But there's this little thing called GRADUATION that does a real number on your body. Who invented the freshman 15 anyway? I propose that that person be dragged out in the street and stoned to death with ding dongs. How can one little milestone completely alter the chemistry of a girls body (although it sure doesn't do much to a mans body...) Back in the day the more lbs you owned the more beautiful you were considered. If it were up to me we'd eat bacon with every meal and wash it down with a little burnt almond fudge icecream.. speaking of bacon... here's my tribute to my favorite greasy indulgence of the gods...

...I guess I'll just go back to my triscuits and string cheese now...