Jones, Party of Five

Throughout this pregnancy, I've gotten hundreds of judgy stares and raised eyebrows (along with the occasional comment) because seriously...who in their right mind has more than two children?? Right...?  Somehow, the number 2 has become the socially acceptable maximum as far as the number of children in a family goes. Coming from a family with seven kids and twenty-five grand kids (not to mention all of my aunts and uncles and cousins), I just don't get it. Not that I think every person in the world needs to run out and birth at least 5 babies, but....so what if someone does?

"Well you've certainly got your hands full already, and here comes another one."
"Your cart is all filled up! Where are you gonna fit that next one?"
"Whoa. You're certainly going to be busy."

Huh?  Are you....trying to be funny? Or...?



Some people ask me how I'm going to manage. Well. It's only 3. I get that it's more than 2. And I understand that my life is about to become slightly more stressful. Quite possibly I'm being naive. Because, two years ago when Bryan and I began discussing the possibility of adding another child, I was scared. But now? I'm completely calm about it (thank goodness, right? Not exactly probable to turn back now at 38 weeks pregnant). This time around I've got two little minions that I know will be excellent helpers. They are both dying to "help take care of the baby."  Feed her. Rock her. Play with her. Get her diapers. It's going to be baby heaven - especially for Jean. And the fact that they can get their own cereal or toast, fruit, sandwiches, drinks, and snacks, and can dress themselves and use the bathroom on their own, also makes a big difference. Last time I had a baby, Jeanie was just shy of 2 years old and basically still a baby. Meaning, she was still pretty dependent on me. That was tough. And a big reason why we waited awhile for another one (although, I thought she'd be here a year ago maybe. But God obviously had different plans).

Here's what I wonder on days like today when it feels like my to-do list just won't quit:  is it harder to be pregnant right now with these 2 kids to look after? Or will it really be harder once the baby is here?  Cause honestly, I'm pretty convinced that it's harder right now, before she comes out. I'm sure that after she comes, my life will be more hectic maybe. But harder?


Like I said, it's been 4 years since I was last pregnant. Even though I don't consider myself old, yet, I can certainly feel my advancing age compared to my last baby. I'm way more tired and my body hurts a lot more.  It's physically tough to hold my 32 pound 3 year old when he needs his mommy. And getting up the energy to finish all of those to-do items to get myself and the house ready for baby is hard to the point where I get angry about it. I just wanna sit down, put my swollen feet up, and maybe even fall asleep for 20 minutes. I really, really don't want to finish those dishes or sweep and vacuum the floor. It's not a joy to pick up toys alongside my whining kids, with a huge tummy that's periodically contracting. And I most definitely do not want to go grocery shopping. I really have nothing left in me to dig through and find the baby boxes so I can wash all of the blankets and toys and things. I seriously don't have the energy to break up that fight going on over there between the kiddos. And a hospital bag?  Maybe when I'm finally in labor I'll throw some things together. I realize my crummy hormonal attitude makes things about 80x more dramatic and seemingly worthy of all of my irritation and anger in all the wrong moments, but....I just. can't. help. myself. I'm looking forward to the baby coming just so I can slowly begin to feel like myself again.

So, yes.  Toting around three little ones will for sure make my life a little more crazy and chaotic. But I'm not convinced that it will be more difficult than what we're experiencing right now in this moment. And I'm beyond excited to add this sweet little girl to our chaos. I can't wait to meet her and hold her perfect tiny body in my arms, and kiss her adorable little hands and face.

Don't worry. If I'm wrong, I'll amend my words and ask for the forgiveness of all mothers with more than two children out there. But for now, this is how I see it.

Catching Up With the Jones'

I'm back by popular demand!   Just kidding. No one asked for new posts. I decided it was time to grace the world with our presence once again and let you all know what we've been up to.

Let's tune in again to the Jones' life and take a look at the last few months, shall we?

Jeanie discovered selfies

We apparently started eating yogurt straight from the big tub

Family time on Daddy's birthday

More birthday parties

Birthday nails from the 5 year old daughter

Snow days

New additions!

Alex loved his new car seat so much, he took a nap in it fresh out of the box.

Happy big sisters

Easter egg hunts

Loot from the egg hunt - promptly followed by many sugar highs

Pictures from Jeanie, waiting in her new baby sister's bed.

First wiggly tooth!!

Just a few more weeks before they can finally meet their sister!

I love my kids!!  

Cookies!

There's nothing like sitting down at the end of the day on your big fluffy couch with a bowl full of ice cream and cookies (and water. Never milk with ice cream - it's way too much dairy coating your mouth or something weird. Blech.) while you enjoy the silence in your nice clean house. You see, in order for anything to get done in my house, I have to offer myself rewards for doing work. In my heart, I am the laziest person you will ever meet. Ever. If I could have my way, I would thwart all responsibility while I lie on the couch, dosing and reading all day long. And this, after I slept in until 11 am. And I would love my life. Unfortunately, my family would go hungry, flies would buzz over the sink full of dishes, we would all smell, and you would have to kick a path through the living room as you walk. But thankfully this is not reality, and it is all because of my reward system. Example:

        "Go take a shower, and then you can look at facebook."

        "Go through that pile of mail that has been building for two weeks, then you can read your book."

        "Just go do the dishes, get it over with, then you can have some ice cream."

        "Clean up dinner, wipe down the kitchen and sweep, then you can go get in bed."

I feel like I should incorporate a sticker chart after seeing out written out like that, but I'll just stick to the less embarrassing mental checklist. Anyway, to get my ice cream tonight, I had to get the kids' rooms, living room and kitchen clean - everything put away and dishes done. So worth it. 

The kids and I decided to make Daddy some cookies tonight after dinner because of how hard he has been working. The eighteen week semester is coming to a close with four finals and a practical done, and three more finals to go. So as a pick-me-up, we made him his favorite (I think) chocolate chip oatmeal cookies.

 As you can see, the kids had a fabulous time making and eating the goods. Daddy loved them also, and of course he did because no one in the world could eat these cookies and not love them. Seriously. No one. Unless you are kind of crazy like my sister-in-laws (on Bryan's side), and not like chocolate. (??)  Hi, you two! I promise I don't hold it against you, and I love you in spite of this. But for all of you normals out there, TRY these. They are amazing and you will make them for the rest of your lives. And I can totally brag about them, because it isn't my recipe; I copied it from a Relief Society (church) cookbook from when I was in college. Definitely. The. Best. Cookie.

Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Cookies

1/2 cup butter

3/4 cup packed brown sugar

3/4 cup white sugar

2 eggs

1 tsp. hot water

1 tsp. vanilla

1 1/2 cup flour

1 tsp. baking soda

1 tsp. salt 

2 cups oatmeal

1 bag (16 oz) chocolate chips

1 cup walnuts (optional)

Cream butter and sugar. Add eggs, water, vanilla. Mix in dry ingredients. Add chips and nuts. Bake at 350 degrees for 8-10 minutes.

Perfection for your tummy.

The Truth

Believe it or not, I think about this blog every night, feeling guilty that "once again, I didn't record anything." Most of those days though, there's a reason I don't write a post: my life is the same day, after day, after day. The main events being, breakfast, dressing everyone, snack, lunch, nap, snack, dinner, bedtime. Everything in between consists of a variation of children's play, learning numbers/letters and colors, enduring tantrums, breaking up fights, and time outs. Oh, and let's not forget the never ending cleaning, heaps of laundry, and mountains of dishes (with no dishwasher - what a joy). Every day. Always the same. Slight changes to our routine are always welcome: trips to the library, grocery shopping, outings with friends, or even the rare outing with Daddy.

This life may sound depressing (and sometimes it is), but I would never trade the way things are for anything else, because I know for sure that I would never find as much satisfaction anywhere in the world as I do from being a mommy to somebody. Two somebodies. Two amazing, absolutely incredible somebodies.

Anyway, everyday I look back on what happened and  have a hard time coming up with things to write about that I think might be entertaining to somebody else. Because, let's face it, snack time and piles of laundry really aren't that interesting. And as dramatic and loud as fights and time outs can be, I just can't seem to figure out a way to write about them that will hold everyone's attention. I just can't. Because, I'm not naive; I know that the everyday events of other people's lives are usually boring. Unless you're living it, it's really only fun to hear about other people's lives for two reasons: if there is humor involved, or if there happens to be an exciting, out-of-the-ordinary event. And the 10 times a day I wipe someone's butt, or sweep the floor, or chase down a tantrum throwing child through Walmart, just don't make the cut.

I follow and read several Mommy blogs out there, and surprise surprise, they are all funny! That's why I read them. If you can't find the humor in the things that happen while being a mommy, you will go crazy. Psyco, maniac, I'm-going-to-run-away-and-never-come-back crazy. So I read the humorous antics of other mothers to help with that not going crazy thing. Sometimes though, what you need is a, "This mommy thing is really hard, but you are doing great and here's why" type of read. One of my favorites (if not my most favorite) blog for when I need that type of fix, is written by a lady with seven kids. Her main focus is finding the joy in motherhood and it's genius, heartfelt and relatable. Her post from today was all about the monotony of your days with young children and how to survive. She calls it, the days of "treading water," which is exactly how the majority of my days feel. It gave me some validity in feeling like I just don't have anything worth writing a blog post about. Some days I don't. And that's okay. My life, and what I'm doing with it right now, has more value than anything else I could be doing. And that's the truth.

Who Needs Sleep?

What's the deal with my kids when it comes to sleep? They each have their own separate issues, but seriously, where do those issues come from? I love to sleep. If I could, I'd go to bed every night at 9 o'clock, and not wake up until 10 or 11 the next morning. And I'm a dead rock. I don't move, and I don't make a sound. And from what I gather, Bryan was a tremendous sleeper as a kid; falling asleep quickly and peacefully at home, in the car, anywhere. So seriously, what's wrong with our kids?

Jean was terrible from day one. Fighting and fighting every single nap and bedtime. She cried every night for 45 minutes or more for the first two years of her life. Whether or not anyone was in the room trying to comfort her. Then she started waking up in the night All. The. Time. Which meant, I was up All. The. Time. (And listen, don't tell anyone, but I've been known to slip a tiny amount of over-the-counter sleeping stuff into her milk at night when we have stayed at hotels or someone else's house. Don't judge. After multiple nights of 2 hours of sleep because your daughter just can't function with the excitement of her new surroundings, you'd do the same.) Then, she began having night terrors. If you don't know what those are, good! I hope you never do. I'm not sure who was more frightened, me or her? And sleeping in the car? Forget it! What a total joke. She has now grown out of most everything, except the whole waking up early nonsense. At least it isn't 5 am anymore. Now she can usually sleep all the way to 6:30!

Alex, once again, is totally opposite. If he's tired, he will sleep. Anywhere (except in our bed. Both of the kids think it's play time if they are snuggled in bed with us). However, we found his weakness:

Sharing a room.

How do you parents do it?? How do you get your kids to sleep in the same room? I shared a room as a kid. So did Bryan. Neither of us remember having issues. But Alex just can't handle it.

A few nights ago, I had this brilliant idea of putting Jeanie's bed into Alex's room for a night, just to try it. We thought it might be fun for the kids, and also might be good practice for when we go to G/ma's house (where they need to share a room). Bad idea. The boy just cried. And screamed. And yelled. At one point about 15 minutes into this, Jean came out rubbing her eyes and said, "I think Alex is crying." Which was funny, and I felt bad for laughing, but we told her to let him cry for for a little longer until he fell asleep. She was fine with this, but after another half an hour or so, I felt so bad for the poor girl, that we moved her bed back into her room so she could get some sleep. Within 2 minutes of her bed leaving the room, Alex went to sleep.

So does anyone else have children with troubles like this? Or are mine just sleep handicapped? I mean, I know they are; there's no reasonable explanation I can come up with. But I assume I'm not the only parent doomed to no sleep for the next couple of decades, right??

The Moments

I'm sure many of you out there can relate to me on this:  a child that refuses your love. I mean, sure, they take the food you make (eh. some of it anyway), the juice you offer, your help to clean up their toys and junk, and your willingness to wipe their bum. But when it comes to hugs, and snuggles, and kisses, they raise a huge fuss.

My two children are polar opposites in this area. Alex looooovvves to be loved on. Loves it. He comes searching for it. He cries for it. He pushes his head harder into your lips as you kiss his forehead. He wraps his little meaty arms tight around your neck as you hug him. And he will sit in your lap, or snuggle under your arm for long periods of time as you watch a show or read some books. But my little Jean? Pffffff. 

From the time she came out of me, she was ready to be on her own. "Oh, you want to hug on me? I'm going to arch my back and grunt as I try my darnedest to get out of your reach. Yes, I am only a week old....your point?"  "I'm terribly, terribly hurt because I just ran my head into the door frame and have a huge purple lump sticking out! Owwwie!! BUT IF YOU TRY TO HOLD ME CLOSE IN COMFORT, I'M GOING TO TURN AND TWIST MY WAY OUT OF YOUR ARMS!"  "Can you read me this story, Mommy? Just, don't try to cuddle me as we read."  "I know we're walking across the parking lot, and I know the rule, but LET GO OF MY HAND! If you don't, I'm going to scream, 'Ow, ow, ow! You're hurting me!!'"   Oy. It's exhausting. Not to mention, pretty defeating and sometimes depressing. 

So, when nights like tonight come along, and you're getting ready to put her in bed and sing some songs, and she says, "I want to give you a hug," you drop to your knees and pull her in close. You hold her tight and close your eyes as you wrap one arm around her tiny back, and the other hand rests on the back of her head. You push everything out of your mind as you relish in this beautiful moment that comes around so rarely. And you feel so lucky that this busy little independent girl that always pushes you away so readily, actually stays in your arms for a whole entire minute. The knowledge that she sometimes actually does need my love keeps me going until that next moment decides to come along. And it will. Hopefully soon, because I really, really love those hugs. 

The Good and the Bad

I've been struggling the last few days, wondering how to write another post, because there are many different things I could write about. So how do I write without sounding jumbled? I still haven't come up with any kind of solution. Just bear with me.

The last few days of Bryan's break have been slow and wonderful. A much needed rejuvenation for all of us, including the kids. Spending every day with their daddy has been a special treat, and I'm sad to see the end is here already. When Bryan isn't writing a paper or waxing up some teeth, we are wandering around the toy section of various stores, letting our kids let loose a bit. We spent time looking at all of the lizards, birds, turtles, hamsters, and fish at the pet store while Daddy was getting a haircut. The four of us hang out together having tickle fights and playing hide and seek. There's no doubt about it: we love having Daddy home with us.

The only blemish in our great week, was actually a pretty horrible and traumatizing thing for me. And little Alex of course. I was making dinner Thursday night when I heard, "thump, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, thump, BAM! silence." Within a 3 or 4 second time frame, my heart stopped, I pieced together, "The stairs. The door to the stairs is open. That was Alex falling," and I flew through the room and around the corner to see my poor baby boy looking up from the second to the bottom stair, and his daddy (who had flown just ahead of me), scooping him up just as Alex began to scream and sob. I cried too, as we looked him over for any damage. He, thank God, is just fine.


He was shaken up of course, but other than a big goose egg on his head, he was okay. In fact, the little tumbler was running around and laughing less than half an hour after the fall. I, on the other hand, was a wreck all night. I laid in bed for a few hours after everyone else fell asleep, with horrible imaginary images of my little boy falling. Scariest moment of my parenting life, by far. And you better believe, I will never forget to check that door. Ever again.

                                                                                   
                                                                                   

The bump doesn't show up that well in the pictures, but it was big and sad. It's all gone now, though. Just a tiny bruise left. Poor baby. I have this immense relief that it was nothing worse, and I hold him a little bit tighter now. Which, I'm happy to say, he doesn't mind.

 

Spring Break

Last Friday, we packed up the kids and drove to Grandma and Grandpa's house for part of Bryan's Spring Break. Which by the way, does NOT correlate with Easter anymore, why? It's not cool, School. Not cool. It would have made it even nicer of a trip if we could have spent Easter with family. Regardless, we still had a fun time.

Bryan and I went on an actual date for the first time in months. You'll never believe the extraordinary fun that we had. I mean, come on. Does it seriously get any better than wandering around furniture and appliance stores, dreaming about the things we will actually be able to buy in a few years, and making fun of the hideous things that, I assume, must be bought bysomebody out there? And then going through the McDonald's drive-thru for a shamrock shake and a chocolate chip cookie that we eat in the parking lot next door? No. It does not get any better than that. Especially not when you top it off with an hour's worth of driving to and from the store, which we filled up nicely with talking back and forth. Ha! I love our lame dates. We actually did have a nice time though. Don't make fun.

And we all had a great time at Grandma and Grandpa's house. Our kids slept relatively well; better than they've managed to before at Mama and Papa's house (what Jeanie calls them), which helped us all enjoy ourselves much better. I run a lot happier on 7-8 hours of sleep, even if it's interrupted, than I do on 4-5.  We all gained about ten pounds or so in the 4 and a half days we were there (Grandma keeps us well fed). I saw and talked to old friends at church. Jean got to play for hours upon hours with her aunt's Barbies. Bryan got to relax and put away school for a few days. And Alex reveled in the dozens of new things to play with, climb on, and eat (like chocolate pop tarts for breakfast). Completely worth the drive! Even with the four of us and our german shepherd crammed into our Dodge Neon.

As much as I loved being there with family, I gotta say, i hate packing and unpacking. Especially for four people. It's very stressful for me: Am I forgetting something for someone? Why do we need so much stuff? Do we have enough stuff? And running over and all around my house a hundred times, grabbing all the things we need. Also, I'm ready for someone to invent the teleporter . . . anyone? If I could just skip the part where we have to endure the crying of our children because they can never be satisfied with anything in the car for more than three minutes, that'd be great. There's only so many toys I can pack (or am willing to pack) in the car, and only so many songs I can sing to keep a 1 and 3 year old entertained for more than a few hours.

There was one thing I did forget to pack: my camera. I am bummed that we didn't get any pictures - especially of the last day. We went to an arcade and the kids were adorable with how much fun they were having. With our winning tickets, Jean bought a pack of giant Smarties, a tiny soccer ball eraser, and a black rubber snake. All of which, she picked out on her own. I understand the candy, and maybe even the eraser (which she promptly lost before we made it home). But the snake? It's a scary snake. It's got the tongue and some scary teeth, with its mouth wide open. And she loves it. Whatever, weirdo. As long as you are happy, you can have all the creepy rubber snakes you want. Anyway, since I forgot the camera, here's a picture of my cute kids from a couple of weeks ago. I sure love them.

March 7th

Yesterday happened to be a pretty significant day.

My handsome little son "turned" 18 months old. What?!?  I seriously can't figure out why time keeps passing so quickly. It's one of those things that people always have to tell you - one of those things that grates on you every time you hear it. It's as if they cannot help themselves and the words just fall out of their mouths when they talk to someone with young children. "Enjoy this time with them because it'll be over before you know it."  "Cherish this time, it goes by so quickly."  "They'll be grown up and in college by the time you blink your eyes." You know why people say this?  Because it's true.

I mean, look at that kid. Look at that cute backpack. You seriously can't tell me that you didn't smile when you saw this picture. Everyone in the family had a backpack but him and he was always trying to sport one of ours, but of course Daddy needs his, and Jean was not a fan of sharing her's. So, we let him pick one out at Walmart the other day. He loves wearing that thing. 

Yep. He's my man. 

Yesterday also marked both mine and Bryan's 21st anniversary of our baptism and confirmation. As we said that out loud, we couldn't believe how long it's been. I guess we are growing up quickly, too. And yes, we share the same anniversary. Also, another crazy tidbit:  we were due to be born on the same day as well. He came early and I came late. How's that for "connected from birth?"  Just kidding. I'm not that weird. I just think it's a neat fact that we share. And I'm really, really glad that we did eventually meet and end up together. It's been an amazing ride. 

Making Memories

One of the, let's say, "conveniences" of being a parent to a newborn and toddler, is that you can almost guarantee they won't remember anything from that part of their lives. If you happen to have a not-so-great parenting moment, it's probably okay. If you slip a bad word out, you're in the clear. If you walk around in your underwear, so what? But then, all of a sudden, they are mimicking you. You may hear that naughty word come out of their mouth in their cute little voice. Usually at an inopportune moment. Or maybe, when you ask them to pick up a toy, they may tell you, "Not right now, I too busy." And of course you automatically kick yourself for ever using those words to them, or even in front of them.

But at the same time, watching my little Jean pick up on the good things we try to teach her, is one of the most rewarding feelings I've experienced as a parent.

I've been watching her lately, realizing that everything that happens from here on out, has the potential to become a memory for her. That realization has made me a lot more aware of the things I do, the things I say, and any other things she is exposed to. It also makes it fun to watch her experience things, play pretend with her toys, and interact with other people. Particularly her little brother. I wonder which moments she is stowing away to call on later. Which memories are she and Alex going to laugh and cry over as they reminisce about their life as kids?

I love that Jean and Alex have become such good friends. They push, hit, and scream at each other sometimes, but for the most part, they love each other. They laugh, hug, and play nice more often than not. Just today, I lowered my rear view mirror to look at them in the back seat, and saw them holding hands across their car seats. Something that happens often, but makes me feel all good inside every time I catch it. I hope they stay good friends through life. It would sure make this mommy happy.

I Need a Break

Anyone who knows me, knows that I've been dealt a crappy immune system. I call myself defective and joke that because I am the youngest of seven kids, I got the leftovers of health. My greatest challenges in life have been physical. For example:

At six weeks old, my entire tiny body (rather, my large body. I was almost ten pounds at birth) broke out in horrible hives due to an allergy to my formula.

In elementary school, I got Valley Fever, putting me out of commission for about three months or so.

In high school, I was in a car wreck that broke my pelvis in several places, leaving me completely bed ridden and dependent on others for everything.

Just after high school, I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis. I had been losing around half a cup of blood a day for almost a year. That's the equivalent of giving blood every four days or so. My doctor didn't understand how I was alive at that point.

After giving birth to Alex, I wouldn't stop bleeding. Bryan came to check on me in the hospital bathroom, and said it looked like a scene from a horror movie. There was blood everywhere. He came in just in time to catch me as I fainted. I then enjoyed a nice blood transfusion, which of course I had a reaction to.

Anyway. With these things and many others happening, I've kind of resigned myself to a fate of Ill-health. But these last few weeks have been ridiculous. It started with an ear infection (which I have chronically). Then, my tooth that I really need a root canal on -but haven't yet because of money - became infected (again), leaving me with lots of pain and a swollen face. Before that cleared up, I caught some kind of chest cold, leaving me with no voice and a bad cough. And now, just as I'm starting to get over my cold, I came in contact with something that I am apparently allergic to, and got a nasty reaction to it. Two nights ago, I started itching and swelling everywhere. We only had children's benadryl in the house, but I drank some anyway. It helped a little, but the next morning, I woke up looking like WIll SmIth in HItch. We bought some adult benadryl, and I've been faithfully taking it every four hours. I'm slowly getting better, but I'm still pretty swollen in my arms, hands, knees, and feet. Red, itchy, and extremely painful big welts all over, I am not a pretty picture. Here's to hoping it goes away very, very soon.

I know we all have our different trials, and I wouldn't trade my life with anyone else's. But during weeks like these, I certainly wish for a little bit of a break. One good thing though, is that it makes me very grateful for the times that I am healthy and strong.

Gosh, if all you know about me is my last few posts, I sure sound like a downer, don't I? I assure you, I love my life. I've just been recording the latest events, and they all seem pretty depressive. I'll work on telling and showing the wonderful parts of my life, because there is much to share!

Useless Quirks

Do you have anything you are anal retentive about? Anal retentive. What does that even mean, anyway? I have no idea. But I do know that I have many, many things that fall under the category of things I am indeed anal retentive about. The problem though, is that it is never over anything important. Why can't I have anal retentIveness over being on time? Or how I look and what I'm wearing when I go out in public? Or doing my visiting teaching? Or flossing?

No. I'm obsessive over things that have no bearing on anything. Ridiculous, non meaningful things. If the dishes are not stacked up a certain way, with all of the food rinsed off of them before I begin washing them, I cannot begin washing. If my kids' toys are not put away in their correct spot during clean up time, it naws at me until my eyes and head start twitching, and I finally move the dumb thing to its right spot. Which is pointless because in six minutes or less, one of my kids will pick it up to play with it, or drop it on the floor somewhere else.

I am betting that my worst, most annoying thing I'm anal retentive about (at least to my husband), is the sheets and blankets that cover me. If they are even slightly bunchy, I must fix them immediately, or I won't be comfortable. If the sheet is pulled up higher than the quilt around my shoulders, I get up and fix it. It doesn't matter if it's 3 o'clock in the morning; I will get up to fix it. I cannot sleep when the bedding is not laid out nice, smooth, and even. It drives my husband up the wall.

I need to find something useful to become obsessive about.

Sick Days

Today, I am thankful for my husband.

I used to think that it was awful to be sick. But now, I can't curl up under the blankets and watch movies all day - or for several days - until I feel better. You know, there's these little critters that climb all over me, begging for food, drinks, attention, and things to do. It's tiring enough without adding a chest cold into the mix.

But Bryan has done so much to make it easier for me. Quietly and without complaint at the extra work. For example, yesterday, I never made out out of my pajamas. It was one of those kind of days. Bryan went out and bought some cough medicine (the first REAL cold medicine I've had in four years because of pregnancies and nursing babies. It was a big event for me), brought home breakfast, did the dishes, made dinner, and spent even more of his precious studying time with the kids. This morning, he got up with Jean and Alex at 6:30. Yes. 6:30. My children are crazy morning people, and I hate it. Anyway, Bryan let me sleep in a bit, and again, took care of breakfast and dinner, and handled time outs. And at the end of the day when energy was low, he was there to help get bedtime routines rolling.

I couldn't ask for a better care taker. I love him. And I love that he's mine.

Moving Forward

 We made it to school! About seven months ago. Once plans kicked into gear preparing us for our move, I let my shiny new blog fall to the back of priorities. The very back. Then, after we were all settled into our new home, a routine started. One that obviously and unfortunately did not include the new blog.

But here I am, re-prioritizing. My inspiration? My oldest sister. If I had to write a paper entitled, "My Hero," I'd write about her. 'Cause seriously. Anybody who knew her and her story would be inspired (more on that later).

If we're being honest, moving here was not easy for me. I take that back. The move was cake. Living here has not been easy for me. In the five years Bryan and I have known each other (is that all?), we have, for the most part, always been together. As in, physically next to each other. Since moving here, though, I only see him probably a grand total of one hour a day. And that's on a good day. The rest of his time is taken up by classes, lab, and studying; leaving me feeling like a single parent. Which we knew was coming! None of that was a surprise. The surprise is, how difficult it is to live in the moment sometimes. Preparing for something and experiencing something, are two very different things. Living somewhere far away from any family or friends of any sort, with two very young children, and no husband except at dinner time and during the night while I'm asleep, has really sort of beaten me down. Without going into details, this, very likely, has been the hardest part of my life. But I'm getting better at it. And things keep moving forward.

I called my sister today to wish her a happy birthday, and once again, was blown away by how incredible of a person she is. She busily mothers her seven children, and all that that entails (multiple schools, music lessons, soccer, swim lessons, play dates, chess tournaments, cooking, driving, etc.), her husband is a bishop (this and a full time job probably keep him away longer than Bryan), she is a doula - an aid/coach/support to woman in labor, she keeps a clean house, fulfills her church callings, maintains her friendships, so many other things I'm forgetting, and to top it all off . . . she has leukemia.

Now. Not to discredit my hardships and stress - because they are very real, and really quite hard sometimes - my sister is the kind of person you look at and think, "if she can do it, I certainly can." So as I stood there tonight washing another mountain of dishes by hand (because we have no dishwasher - *whine*), with a stupid sore throat and a cold, after a long tiring day of whining, loud, and ever energetic children, I thought to myself, "I can do it. Things are not as hard as they could be. I sure love my sister."

So here we are. Moving forward.

Potty Dance!

I realize that I'm about to write an entire post about urine and feces, but I just can't help myself. I also realize that this qualifies me as one of "those moms." You know the ones. Their life has become so boring that they always revert back to their child's bowel happenings. But try to believe me when I tell you, I am not cursed with such a boring life, I am the opposite: blessed with such an amazing opportunity as potty training. And therefore my entire day has been an ongoing obsession with the toilet.

Ah, crud. Who am I kidding? I guess I am one of those moms. No matter how I try to make it sound. That's fine though. On a day like today, I'll gladly accept that.

I never have a problem falling asleep at night, but last night was horrible. I laid awake forever stressing over the fact that I needed to try potty training my little girl again. So I awoke this morning completely determined. We've tried this whole business before with absolute zero success. She basically laughed at our efforts. So it always got put on hold for a day when I had more patience/energy/resolve.....whatever you want to call it. She could have cared less about our previous attempts. She thought it was fun to sit on the toilet and flush, but that's as far as she would go.

This morning, it clicked.

We sang potty songs, talked about chocolate chips, and *splash.* Pee! In the toilet!   I was so excited that I scared the poor girl. "YES! OH MY GOSH, YOU ARE DOING IT!" She jumped, and the stream stopped. Crap. Um, don't stop, you are doing so good! Do you have more pee? "OK!" came the adorable reply, and immediately the magical sound of the stream started to flow again. Phew. I had to bite my tongue and stop myself from jumping up and down shouting praise until she was finished. I gave her a lot of chocolate chips, really really hoping they would be a helpful incentive.

They were. Five times worth. Five pees on the potty, and one included a poop! (imagine my surprised and ecstatic face here.) With only a couple accidents during awake time, and a couple during nap time (though she never actually slept. Just played for two hours), I would definitely call today a success. On to tomorrow!

On to Sentences

The other day as I sat with my girl watching Strawberry Shortcake, I realized that maybe my life isn't quite as exciting to other people. Will Lemon Merengue ever be able to find a business to open that will help her feel needed and useful? Poor Lemon. She is so sad! No, Lemon, no! Don't move from Berry Bitty Town. The other girls need you. Er. *ahem* Okay, okay. So maybe I get a little involved in her little shows. And maybe spending all day long hanging out with a toddler and a baby has....reverted me a bit. But that doesn't mean I can't find exciting things in my life each day. Exciting to me, anyway.

Jean has started to speak in sentences more and more. They may all be fragments still, but cute, nonetheless. "Oh my. Gosh!" happens to be one of my favorites. "Doing, Mom?" I hear this one about 75 times a day. "I can't....find it." "I can't.....WAIT!" "Oh no! Bruhba, coming!" This one is especially funny, because she will run with her stuff and get to higher ground so her brother can't reach it/take it away. "I LIKE (fill in the blank)!" She likes everything. The kitchen. Toys. Walks. Clothes. Frogs. Daddy. Paper. Pillows. Whatever we happen to be doing at the moment - minus naps and bedtime - she will usually "like." Similar to Facebook.

There are at least a dozen other regular phrases, and they are being added upon each day. For me as her mother, this is highly entertaining and doubly exciting. I love watching her grow and learn -it really is neverendIng! However, she has no concept of quiet. Notice almost all of those phrases are followed by an exclamation point? Everything that comes from that girl's mouth is shouted. I blame Dora. That dang Explorer is always yelling everything. But. I still love my deodorant licking loudmouth. More and more every single day. 

I Hate Tantrums

This being a mom thing? It's tough sometimes. Here are two reasons why:

Option #1 - I stay in with the kids all day. She's driving me crazy! I know she's just bored, but she won't stop climbing on everything, getting into everything, and is screaming her head off about absolutely everything else.

Option #2 - I take them out to do something (ie. the park, a walk, sidewalk chalk, the library) and we have a great time. But the moment I have the nerve to end the outing, I am in for the tantrum of all tantrums. It's bad. And always feels far worse in public....?

For instance, yesterday we all went to the mall and stopped in at the toy store for some fun before we went home. Jean went nuts, making sure to touch and see every possible toy in there. She laughed and giggled like she had never, ever, ever had as much fun as she currently was in that exact moment. As we were finishing up with the rounds and said it was time to go, I could feel my body tensing up, getting ready for the imminent explosion. Sure enough, as soon as she realized we were headed out the door, BOOM!

"AHHHHHH!!! NO, NO, NO!!" *sob, sob, sob*  And don't forget the kicks and back arching, and flailing in poor Daddy's arms.

And this happens every single time we venture out to do anything. Ugh. I want my kids to have fun and experience life but sometimes it's easy to wonder, "Is it worth it?"

*sigh*  Yes. Dang it.

Jaded

You know what it's like when your mind can't settle on any one thing? You are dying to plan or think things through, but as soon as an image or thought makes its way to the front of your mind, it disappears - forgotten - and you are on to the next in line. That's me. All day long. 

Rent? In which town? Dental school! Four more long, long years. Can I last? I'll never see my husband. Like a single mother who gets to kiss a hot guy before bed each night. Four years in one place; imagine! I'm really thirsty. Don't hop on the couch! Oh shoot, forgot the laundry. We'll definitely need three bedrooms. I get my couches back. I should paint pictures for the kids' walls. Yeah right...with what time? Gotta look up moving trucks and compare the price. Can we find a house that will let us keep our dog? I need to get our health insurance sorted out for when we get there. Crap. forgot to get the car payment in the mail today. Okay, okay, I'll get your juice,I'm sorry. It's nice out today. I should go on a walk with the kids...nevermind. It's almost nap time. I want a nap. But I should do dishes. And laundry. And vacuum. No, Jean, no more tv.Ok. Where should we live? Oh, money. How are we supposed to afford everything? Dang. Poopy diaper. Gross! Ok, what was I just thinking about? 

I'm exhausted. Goodnight.

We're In!

Nothing to talk about??  Pssshhh.

We're going to dental school!!!

Okay, wait. Let me back up. In introducing us yesterday I failed to mention that for the last 7 years or so, Bryan has had an enormous dream of going to dental school and becoming a dentist. The more time passed, the more stumbling blocks appeared. You know, the whole "take 2 steps forward, 1 step back."  Lots of personal issues. Lots of money issues. Lots of timing issues. Lots and lots of issues.

Last year was huge, with what seemed like a ton of progress, Bryan graduated (magna cum laude) with his bachelors, took the Dental Admissions Exam (did phenomenal), and applied to 9 dental schools across the country (money, money, money! aka: our 2010 tax return). And then we moved in with my in-laws hoping to find a job until we heard about dental school. Then we waited. Applied to millions of jobs. Waited some more. Dreamed of life as grad students. Applied to more jobs. Waited. Dreamed. Tried not to get angry. Waited. Waited. Oh, and prayed. A lot. No jobs. No school interviews. Just rejection after rejection. Oh, I guess I lied. He did have one temporary job for a few weeks way back at the beginning almost (What a nightmare. Don't remind me).  That gave us some money for the next few months. Then Uncle Sam provided another return which has lasted us until now. And Bryan just got his new job at the pharmaceutical company a couple of weeks ago.

But June - March brought seven rejection letters, from his nine schools. Ouch.

The big "interview invitation email" from one of those two remaining schools made us all turn into a bunch of excited, blabbering idiots. We were ecstatic! And then another within the same week! It was the best week of our entire year.

He had first interview and fell in love with the school. We were all rolling on a high. But, then after a couple weeks of no news, that faded. Then it faded some more. And we were back at playing the waiting game that we've apparently gotten so good at. Bah! "What is the reason?? Why? Why? Why? WHAT exactly am I supposed to be praying FOR?" (<---this is what most of my prayers have sounded like for the last, oh....many many months now). I mean, really. Here we are, almost 30. Two children. Living with our parents (again), no job, no money, and not one single clue as to where our future road is leading. Discouragement abounds.

Until today.

"We have an open position available here at our school. Would you be able to fill it?"

We are in!

Blank Slate....Still Blank

Everyday for the last long while, I write blog posts in my head about different things that happen in our life. Right. Geeky, I know. But, it's who I am and what I do. "I could totally write something clever about this. Or that. Ou! Or this!" Then I remember I haven't made a blog that I wanted to write in yet. But now I have! Just yesterday. But guess what.

I am sitting here ready to type, baby napping, and little girl watching her morning shows, and I can't think of one thing to say.  *sigh*  I'll try back later.