It is one thing to discuss polititcs

with those who agree with you and some family members who don't but love you anyway.

It is another thing to anonymously place door hangers in your neighborhood in support of a particular political position.

It is another thing to put a sign in your yard supporting a particular position.

It is really ANOTHER thing to publicly hold up a sign as people file by to vote and let them see your support- to stand for something (literally) when people are watching.

I am most politically active on the phone. Talking about stuff. Mostly with people who agree with me (and the few on the dark side that I haven't lost hope in :) ) This morning, I had the opportunity to hold up a sign in support of the Marriage Amendment on the ballot in Arizona. I didn't think it would be any big deal, but it WAS! I was self-conscious in a way that I did not expect. And, it was really no big deal. No one talked to me- I did get a few mean (my interpretation) stares and when I tried to direct one woman to an open parking spot in the jam-packed parking lot she gave me a dirty look and drove off to park in the hinterlands (obviously someone who supports traditional marriage can't REALLY be interested in helping people get a good parking spot)... but that was really it. I got more thumbs up and a few shout-outs from my ward members than anything negative.

But still, I wasn't entirely comfortable standing there with my sign. But, I had some time to think about it, so I did.

I wasn't concerned about people disagreeing with me- some people will agree with you and some people won't. That's just the way it is.

I was concerned about experiencing their disagreement. Why that is, I'm not sure. I'm still thinking about that.

I did have one distinct feeling though- it is no longer enough to anonymously support political positions that align with my religions beliefs. The Lord is going to need me, and many, many more people like me to stand for those things in an ever-increasing public way. It is not enough to hope someone else will do it.

Honey, did you brick the baby?

Jacob has been sleeping through the night since early August- the secret was putting him down on his tummy. Hallelujah.

A few weeks ago he learned to roll over to his back and started doing it 3-4 times a night. Being unable to get back to sleep, he cried and wake me, I'd go in and turn him back over...again...and again...and again....it was like dying a slow death. EVERY NIGHT. I am now thoroughly convinced of the effectiveness of sleep-deprivation as a torture technique. I would've told my deepest darkest secrets for the chance to sleep through the night again.

I hoped he'd get over it. He didn't. I tried to fix it. I couldn't. I tried to figure out which way he was turning and lay him up against the side of his bed so he couldn't do it anymore. I even stuck him in between two little padded things- the ones that are designed to keep a newborn on it's back. No good. He rolled over all of them and I'd always find him a la cockroach- kicking his legs and waving his arms and not able to right himself.

Sooo- desperation IS the mother of invention. Sometimes, it is the mother of unusual invention. Like this.




He doesn't roll over in the middle of the night anymore. I haven't outlawed rolling over during the day.

How I accidently shaved off 1/3 of my left eyebrow or, Santa, I need Laser Hair Removal...

This post is for my sisters; they are the only ones who will really feel my pain. And Rebecca too- she understands having hair where isn't not supposed to be.

Bybee girls have all had to develop special relationships with tweezers over the years- we're just that hairy. It's our dad's fault. There are a few lucky sisters that have ventured into the world of laser-hair removal, but I'm not that lucky. So, I'm tweezing my eyebrows, late for a dentist appt. Late is not that out of the ordinary; what IS out of the ordinary is the amount of hair proliferating on TOP of my eyebrows- as if my eyebrows were invading my forehead and headed for my hairline.

I just don't get it. For me, have a baby= more hair. WHY??? WHY WHY WHY???? Stretch marks, ok. Extra weight, ok. But forehead HAIR?? It just doesn't seem fair. That rhymes.

NO NO NO. I'm NOT going to just sit by and let that happen. And, I need to fix it NOW. I picture the dentist, his face THISCLOSE to my face, suddenly distracted by my hairy forehead, and then he drills a hole in my cheek or something. NO!

I check the time- I should've been gone 5 minutes ago. So now I'm panicked and late- not a good combination for me. It tends to make me lose my mind a little but and do things I would NEVER do if I had all my mind.

I holler at kids to get in the car-I can hear a game of tag going on, so no one hears me. Tweezers are slow going and I can see the minutes ticking by. One more holler "IN THE CAR PLEASE!!" and I get an idea. (Mind is lost at this point) I grab a little trimmer that I use around the boy's ears when I cut their hair- I'll shave them off! Brilliant! I'm in total hair-removal-concentration-mode as I move closer to my face with the trimmer and somewhere in the background of my consciousness I hear Adam yell "Mom is base!" but I fail to realize the implications. I am base.

Can you see the events playing out in slow motion? Me, trimmer in hand, getting slammed from behind by two boys who have outrun their sister and are safe on "base," and bbbbzzzzztttttttt... 1/3 of my left eyebrow is gone. I just stare at myself in disbelief. Speechless. Momentarily I go into hyper-panic mode and begin frantically rubbing what is left of my eyebrow, like I can somehow spread it out to cover what is now oh-so-noticeably missing. Alas, hair doesn't spread.

I can't even laugh or cry or do anything but put the trimmers down in total defeat and turn to face the kids who have all frozen mid-tag game and are just staring at me. Staring at the 2/3 of my eyebrow that is left.

Now, the dentist really has something to look at.

P.S. Since I started this post, all the hair has grown back. That is the one plus about being hairy, I guess- it doesn't take long to recover from a serious shaving incident.

Overheard: Rachel on a roll

Rachel: Mom, first grade and a little bit of second grade homeschool is too hard for me. Wait...first grade plus second grade is THIRD grade! No wonder it's too hard for me!

Rachel, to our 13 year old baby sitter.

Rachel: "Who are you voting for?"
Morgan: "What?"
Rachel, exasperated: "VOTING..you know when you choose the president of the USA?"
Morgan, humoring her: "Oh, ummm, I don't know."
Rachel: "I'm voting for McCain. He's not that great, but he doesn't want to take our money. Obama will take a lot more of our money."
Morgan: "Ok, I'll vote for McCain too."
Rachel: "Good."

She get's it from Dan :)

catching up

I asked Adam what shape pancake he wanted for breakfast and he said "An alien."


Dan taking the kids to "hike" the "mountain" near our home. The quote marks should clue you in on the fact that it's really a big hill, and that what they call hiking really means loading up their backpacks with yummy snacks and stopping on the trail to eat every 5 minutes.


One of my favorite things that happens nearly every morning is one or more kids getting in my bed to snuggle. Yes, I know I should be up before them so I can read my scriptures, exercise, bake bread and welcome them after they get up with a warm breakfast...but I just can't seem to give up morning snuggles.


Seriously now, could you give this up? For baking bread? Definitely for the scriptures- but I will get that in later. Jonathan (pictured here with Jake) has already banned me kissing him in front of his other kindergarten friends (snif snif) so something tells me I'd better hang on to morning snuggles as long as I can.


My sister-in-law Laura took this of Jake and I just love it. Maybe I love it because he has one of my hairs in his hand- probably ripped out of the really tender spot at the back of my neck where he gets his best death-grip. Mostly I love his rolls- he is my chubbiest baby yet. Why I consider that an accomplishment, I don't know. There is just something kind of sad to me about skinny babies.


The boys are 6!! Birthday presents this year were all about Star Wars.





Seriously, I am a Jedi. Don't make me use my light saber on you.


Conned the boys into going to "Sweet Tomatoes" for their birthday dinner (free b-day dinner for kids). Unlike Rachel who would eat salad all day, they said "Is there anything else except lettuce here?"


When I'm not a Jedi, I'm a dollar-store-helmet wearing really cool guy!

snowballs chance

One of my favorite sayings about the odds of something happening has always been "that's about as likely as a snowballs chance in h-e-double-toothpicks" (this is a G-rated blog people) which I've abbreviated to "snowballs chance."

In every day usage, this is what it looks like: Is Sara going to really make good on her promise to give up eating sugar? "Snowballs chance." What are the chances that no one is going to get hurt when I see my boys on the trampoline wearing helmets and carrying baseball bats? "Snowballs chance." See what I mean? Very handy- short and to the point.

That was before I lived in Arizona.

Now, I've not been to h-e-double-toothpicks, but I have a hard time believing it could be hotter than here. Fire and brimstone have NOTHING on Arizona in the summertime. When I'm outside it feels like I'm someone's entree parked under that heat lamp, waiting to be served. I can actually feel my brain simmering. So I've modified my little saying- "Snowball's chance- in Arizona."

Now that the heat has finally broken for the "Fall" (if you can call 90 degree weather Fall) I'm starting to love living here again- cactus and all. The best months are Nov-Dec-Jan- when a snowball's chances dramatically improve.

Overheard

Rachel, talking to no one in particular while holding Jacob, who had just spit up on her shoulder. "Taking care of babies is sometimes hard. And gross."

Amen, sister.

Be gone from my life

Dear Chocolate Chip Banana Bread,

Had I known it was going to end this way, I would've never invited you to share so much of the past few days with me. I don't know what to say- I feel like you've taken advantage of me. I thought you were one thing, and you've become another. You started as a snack and have become entire meals. I know you say "But, you made me! How could it be my fault?" I know. I added the chocolate chips because I felt good about using whole wheat flour and replacing some of the oil with applesauce. But, had I known the danger that one added ingredient would pose I would've never done it. Had I known that a "batch" was 8 mini-loaves, I would've thought twice. But, in my zeal to not let my brown bananas end up in some landfill, they are now ending up in my tummy.

You're just not who I thought you were. You started out as just plain old banana bread, but now you are all the more sweetly accompanied by chocolate chips, which, has been proven in numerous scientific studies, I am powerless to resist. I haven't even given my other snacks a second thought. All the carrot sticks and cauliflower that I so carefully cut and prepared sit idly by in the fridge as the spell you have cast over me brings be back to you again and again. It doesn't matter that I've given you away to friends and neighbors, too much of you remains in this house. You are a distraction, and it must end. You must be gone from my life- you have until the end of the day. If you are not gone by then, it's the freezer for you. I am sorry that it has come to this; I hope we can meet again in the future under more pleasant circumstances.

Sincerely,

Sara

Losing the battles, losing the war

It's the war on beans. Some of you may know about my recent tumultuous relationship with beans It's THE MOST love/hate relationship I've ever had. I love to eat beans, I hate to make them. I've burned them, spilled them all over me, made huge messes with them and ruined batch after batch of #$%@ beans! My last batch of beans looked SO promising until I got a little too fancy with the spices and they went the way of all the other beans I've made since living here in AZ- DOWN THE DRAIN, into the disposal. So far the score is: Beans, 5, Sara 0. BUT. I am a fighter. I WILL WIN.

Yesterday I bought the COSTCO size bag of pinto beans. I WILL WIN even if it takes me the entire bag. I will produce an edible batch of beans if it is the LAST thing I do.

Surreal

Friday night we went to the boy's soccer games (Johnny scored 3 goals!), came home and settled in for Family Movie Night; Star Wars. We ate popcorn and gummy bears and drank Sprite and had a great time. Miles away from us, friends and loved ones had boarded up their homes and were preparing for Ike. It was so weird for me to experience the first major hurricane to hit Texas while NOT living in Texas. I called people. I worried about people. I watched CNN all day long and worried some more. I remembered what it was like for us to evacuate during Rita; how unsettled and anxious it made me to see empty grocery stores and gas stations with no gas. I called more people. I worried when I couldn't get through. As I went to bed at 11 pm AZ time I knew that my friends were engulfed in that ferocious storm. Robin was trying to sleep with her family in a closet, Trina and Andy were with their kids sleeping in the bathroom as were countless others... and I lay down in my safe bed. So surreal.

My children, the objects

Ever read anything by the Arbinger Institute or Terry Warner? If you haven't, you should. Really. If you have, you know that it's like Pandora's box. Once open, it can't be shut. Dan and I attended an Arbinger seminar last week and it's been a heckuva week ever since.

"Why?" you ask? Well, I'll tell you. Completely oversimplified Arbinger teaches that you can respond to those around you in two different ways; you can treat people as people, or as objects. That is the choice we all have. Responding to people as people, we hear their concerns, we value them as we value ourselves and we respond to them RESPONSIVELY. If we see them as objects (obstacles, tools, or just completely irrelevant) we are RESISTANT to their needs and their humanity. For me, that happens with my kids when they misbehave (or don't behave the way I want them to) and I forget that the children I have been blessed with are WONDER-ful, that they look to me for love and acceptance, and that more than anything else, I love them very much.

So, I take the kids to a grocery store that we don't normally go to because they are they only store in the area that sells Taco Bell canned refried beans, which my kids are obsessed with. Jake is in a baby carried strapped to the front of me, the other three are on the loose doing what kids do in the grocery store. "Moooooom, can we buy this? This? No. This? NO. This? NOOOO!"

Cantaloupes are on sale for $1 each- score! We buy 5. On the the bean aisle where, as we are in the process of emptying the shelf of all the beans, a very nice-looking (hair-do, high heels, fake nails, MAKEUP) woman rounds the bend with her cart. I am instantly very aware of how I look (no makeup- let's just leave it at that) and the circus that is my three kids and the assembly-line system they've come up with for getting the beans into the cart which also includes a nifty little chant- "Beans in the cart! Beans in the cart!"

Adam, curious little genuis-in-the-making that he is stares at the contents of her basket. She looks at him with mild displeasure and I can feel my insides harden. I snap "Adam, step back!" and I realize that he has just, in ONE INSTANT, become an object to me. He has done nothing wrong, but I am very aware that I want him to leave the pretty lady alone and not draw more attention to us. I grab his arm and pull him back. She passes, throwing one last "I'm-so-glad-I'm-not-you" glance over her shoulder.

I'm mad. At who? I dont' know! Her for "making" me wish I had at least put mascara on; at my kids for being cute (in a loud sort of way). At myself, for grabbing the arm of my tender kid who is just being a kid- for treating him like something I needed to move out of her way.

It gets better. We go up to check out and whose cart slide in behind us? Bingo. But, this time, instead of giving me her grouchy look as she is walking away, she gets to stand there and try to melt me with it as she clicks her fake nails on her cart. AND, bear in mind, the same chanting ("Beans out of the cart!") assembly-line thingie has started up as we unload FORTY cans of beans and 5 cantaloupes on to the belt. I feel completely ridiculous and like I should explain to someone that I do feed my kid more than cantaloupe and beans and then Rachel smashes Johnny against the gum rack with the cart ("It was an accident Mom, I promise!") and Johnny takes a swing at her (not an accident) and Adam steps on my foot as he's trying to get past to ask me for the HUNDREDTH time if he can buy a gumball.....and they are all objects to me now. I can feel the blood pulsing and rushing to my head as I grab all three of them by various body parts and hiss "STOP! STOP NOW!" And, in my head now, the new "Arbinger Seminar Voice" (you know that voice that you hear after you figure out you're doing something you shouldn't be doing?? The one that won't shut up?? THAT voice.) asks "Stop what? Being kids? Helping me? Having fun while working together?"

Siiiigh. I was so excited when I came home from the seminar. I figured I could probably stop treating people like objects THAT WEEKEND if I put my heart into it. Now, almost a whole week later I just feel like I have 10 shirts on and 10 pairs of pants on too- restricted and aware of every movement that I make because I'm constantly asking myself if I'm treating others like objects or people. It takes a long time to change.

Ok so the"no sugar" thing...

It's going great! (lie) It is sooo much easier than I ever thought it would be! (lie) So super-duper easy! Uh-huh! Easy easy easy. No problems, no temptations. (lie lie lie)

I can't! It's too hard! I am defenseless against the sample basket of chocolate chip cookies at Paradise Bakery! I am feeble, flimsy, frail, weak, wimpy and wishy-washy (thanks thesaurus.com) when it comes to the dessert menu!

The trouble is, I leave my house. The only sugar in my house is a jar of semi-fossilized jelly beans. As Dan will attest (as he grumbles, opening cupboard after cupboard hoping some new junk food will have magically appeared since the last time he looked) our house is bereft of anything that even resembles junk food. As long as I don't leave my house, I'm FINE. As long as I go to the library, the bank, or even the grocery store, I'm FINE. But, take me to a meeting for homeschool moms at Paradise Bakery and it's GAME OVER. Take me out to dinner with Jon and Laura (who had the nerve to order a dessert for 4) and I don't say a word as I savor every bite of my icecream.

So , I just have to never ever go anywhere but the library or the bank. Ok, that's easy. Or, just work on giving up something easier like...thinking, thinking... hotdogs or some equally detestable food.

Hmmmm. Maybe hotdogs is the answer! Baby steps...one at a time...I'll start with hotdogs and then progress on to other "machine-separated" meat products like chicken nuggets (except Chick-Fil-A)! Eventually, with iron willpower developed after vanquishing one mystery meat product after another (I may even take bologna on!) I'll be ready to face my foe sugar.

random things

Stella, this is Jake. You'd better watch out girl, I'm gaining on you! My rolls are multiplying fast and I'm just getting started.

We love love LOVE this boy.


Sweet husband brought home sweet treats- the day after I decided sugar was banished from my life. I let it stay another day. But seriously now, no more. None.

This is the pool we got to try and ward off the AZ summer heat. To me, it looks like a huge tub in our backyard. Kids don't really have to take a real bath on the days they swim, right? The water's as warm as bathwater so I don't see the difference. Soap? Overrated. Saline water certainly has some antiseptic effects, right?

Rachel's Birthday

Rachel is 7...SEVEN!! Did you all get that? SEVEN. Unbelievable. Last week she began asking "Mom, do you have any birthday surprises for me?" as the final countdown to her birthday (which began in February) ensued.

So, I came up with a few. The day of her birthday we skipped school and as I loaded her and Jakie in the car I invited her to ask me any questions she wanted to about her surprises, the only stipulation being that I could only answer "yes" or "no."

R: "Is it a place I know?"
M: "Yes"
R: Are there friends there?
M: Maybe...(everyone is a friend you haven't made yet, right?)
R: (excitement mounting in her voice) "Did you get all my friends together for a big surprise party for me???"
M: Ummmmmm, no.
R: Oh.
M: Rachel, remember you're having a party this Saturday? And you already know all about it.
R: Oh yeah.

By the time she got over the fact that I had not arranged a huge surprise party for her, we arrived at the place she has been begging to go since the day she saw it: Build-a-Bear Workshop, yet another frivolous and ridiculous way that some scheming entrepreneur has invented for over-indulgent and fiscally irresponsible parents to provide their already toy-overloaded offspring with ANOTHER overpriced stuffed animal. Man I wish I would've thought of it first.

But I digress.

If I would've thought of it, I would've kept track of all the times I heard her sharp in-take of breath register her surprise and delight. She LOVED it. Loved picking her "new best friend," the whole kiss-the-heart-before-you-stick-it-in-the-body hoohaw and everything. The outfits, the shoes, the purses (yes purses!!) and hair doodads...it was dizzying. Right before we were done she asked me "Mom, are you sure you want to spend this much?" I was really proud that at least the price tags had not escaped her and said "For a special occasion, it's just fine sweetheart. This is your big birthday present." $40 later (for a stuffed animal!!!) , we were out the door and on to the next surprise.

Every Sunday, Rachel looks longingly at a beautiful family of 4 girls with exquisite hairdos that sit in front of us at church (yes you Tricia) and wishes I could do something even close. Well, wish granted. On to "The Glitter Box" for a (free-had a coupon- couldn't have paid for this with a straight face) "up-do" for my SEVEN-YEAR-OLD who was absolutely beside herself with delight as she was coiffed and lacquered and glittered. Heaven.

A sugar-saturated smoothie finished off the afternoon of special-occasion treats. I watched her walking beside me, swinging her box, sipping her smoothie and trying to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the mirrors of the stores we passed and I caught a glimpse of a much older girl, even older than seven, walking beside me. She stopped and offered me a sip and as I bent to take it, she kissed my cheek and said "Thanks Mom, this was a great surprise. You can do the real surprise party for me next year." :)

My gifts to me

Today is my birthday and I love love LOVE gifts. Big ones, little ones, doesn't matter to me, I love them all. What matters most in any gift I give or receive is the thought that goes into it. The best gifts I've ever received cost very little money; but I could tell the giver thought a lot about what would make me happy.

So, in the spirit of giving the best gifts, this year I'm giving two gifts to myself that will make me very happy. 1. The gift of better health and 2. The gift of being content with what I have.

Gift #1 means I will no l0nger be eating sugar. Really. I mean it. I'm eliminating it completely for a year and then I'll re-evaluate then. I have a lot of healthy, good habits, but this one is a glaring bad habit. I tend to eat to reward myself, or to "celebrate" (sometimes I just celebrate that I got out of bed today) and it's gotten out of hand. I'm just going to finish off the pan of chocolate rice-krispie treats I made tonight and that's IT. Really.

Gift #2 means that I will not be shopping/buying clothes or random things on sale for me or my house unless it is a genuine need. Really. I mean it. Usually I just buy things because I want them and I can somehow justify the purchase. Sometimes I can't even justify it and I buy it anyway :) No more. I am tired of consuming so much and even though I thought it made me happy, I think all it really did was get me more stuff to take care of.

Soooo, now I'm OUT! I'm a sugar-shopaholic, and my gift to myself is a little self-mastery. I had to tell you so that I get really serious about it- I'm a real sucker for peer-pressure. Anyone who feels so inclined can feel free to jump in and try my gifts with me. At least, don't offer me brownies. Or ice cream. Or chocolate chip cookies. Or your coupons to department stores. I mean it!

Notes

Rachel is a note writer. She write about everything from tattles to death threats to apologies. Half the fun is trying to figure out what she has written. Can you do it?


Mom anb Dad- Johnny spilb wobr on the flor


Mom Johnny is goene to shoot me win he grose up


I em sree tat I wus rood to you

1. Johnny spilled water on the floor
2. Johnny is going to shoot me when he grows up (possible in retaliation for the water tattle)
3. I'm sorry I was rude to you

Overheard

From the back seat of the car:

Johnny: "Adam, whose world is this?"
Adam: "Uhhh, Jesus's"
Johnny: "You're right Adam! Who made us?"
Adam: "Uhhh, Jesus and Heavenly Father."
Johnny: "Right! Who got crucified?"
Adam: "Jesus"
Johnny: "Who healed that dead guy?"
Adam: "Which dead guy?"
Johnny: "The one in the movie"
Adam: "Ohhh, that's easy! Jesus!
Johnny: "Ok Adam, this is a hard one. Who is the meanest guy?"
Adam: "Ummmmm, ummmmm...ummm"
Johnny: "Ssssssssss (trying to give a hint)"
Adam: "Satan! It's Satan!"
Johnny: "Right!"

See, they ARE learning from Living Scripture Videos!

All About Rachel

Wishes her name was: Amanda Lee (sassy heroine in a book she's reading)
Wants to be a when she grows up: A teacher
Doesn't like to eat: Onions
Loves to eat: Watermelon
Is really good at: making up cute songs about anything and everything, taking care of Jake, painting her nails, reading, remembering to pray for other people
Wants to go and visit: Uncle Ty and Aunt Emi
Is afraid of: nothing
Can't wait to: have her birthday party
Superpower she would have if she could: the power to fly
Favorite animal: Chihuahua (huh??)
Favorite color: light purple and light blue and light green and light orange
Favorite article of clothing: shoes
Favorite thing to do: swim
Favorite movie: home movies of her when she was little and the Little Mermaid
Favorite thing about our family: That we play games together
Adam says the best thing about Rachel is that "she is nice to me."
Johnny says the best thing about Rachel is that "she plays swords with me."
Daddy says the best thing about Rachel is her "hugs and snuggles."
Mommy says the best thing about Rachel is that "she is such a great helper."

Rachel is...

A rule follower. A few weeks ago I was trying to tell the kids that squirting soap on their hand and then promptly washing it down the drain did not constitute proper hand washing. I told them to sing "Happy Birthday" while they washed. No one took mer seriously except Rachel, who can be heard singing "Happy Birthday to meeeeee" as she washes.

A helper. She is always offering to help me with Jake. She picks him up when he is crying, feeds him and holds him. She is even attempted to change a diaper or two (brave girl). She is the best helper I have!

More fashion conscious than her mom. Recent conversation: "Mom, (looking at me wearing sweat bottoms and a t-shirt getting my purse to go to the store) are you going to wear that?" "Yes Rachel." "But Mom, those are your pajamas!" "Technically, they are not Rachel, because I didn't sleep in them." "But, you have slept in them before!" "True, but I didn't sleep in them last night." Rachel, (rolling her eyes) "Mom, that is not the point. Those are your pajamas! (now following me out the door) You can't wear your pajamas to the store!!"

Rachel is such an important part of our family! Her brothers love her and she is their favorite person to play with/torment. They are her favorite people to play with/boss around. It's a mutually fulfilling/aggravating relationship. We love Rachel for so many reasons. If you love Rachel too, post your favorite thing about her!

I am the maypole

The kids came through the door after having been at a friend's house to play for the afternoon. Jake was asleep so I announced that they could watch a movie while I also went to take a nap. Rachel burst into tears. "But I haven't gotten to BE with you mom!" she said, "Yeah," said the boys, "we want to BE with you."

It's so true. If I am nursing Jake in my room, they are in my room. If I am in the kitchen, they are in the kitchen. If I go outside, three kids come out after me, "Mom? Where are you going? Can we come?" Sometimes I stumble over them because they are so close to me ALL THE TIME.

A few weeks ago, dear friend Emily made this observation that I've thought a lot about. "I've accepted that I'm the maypole in my young children's lives. Although consuming, what an honor, really! I know it won't always be like this."

When I take a moment to set aside the sometimes frustrating events of the day that often accompany parenting and look at my kids, I'm amazed. They are really incredible little people with potential to do and be that I feel genuine reverence for. That they love me (imperfect, grumpy, etc etc) as they do really humbles me.




That's me, there in the middle, the skinny one :)

there is not a cuter kid in the world

Even if you think your kid is cuter, don't bother telling me so. I won't believe you. It's pointless to even try.

#$%@ frickety frackety *&#@ AHHHHHHH!

(Tone: exasperated, frustrated, tying a knot at the end of my rope so I can hang on...are you feeling it???)

So I mentioned the cleaning ladies who just came on Tuesday, right? Few things feel better to me these days than someone else cleaning my house. I seriously want to hug them when they're done. They wouldn't get it, so I don't, but my heart swells with gratitude and love for them just the same and I close the door behind them with tears in my eyes.

Now, I am not a pessimistic person. Really, I'm more of an optimist. Most days I'm just happy to have a glass, half empty or full being a bonus. But I SWEAR that unseen cosmic forces have gathered together to convince my children to do strange and bizarre things, all aimed at thwarting the happiness I feel because of my clean house! Really! I'm not making this up! Bizarre and strange activity is all around me making a HUGE MESS!!!!!!!

Like Adam making "watermelon juice" out of his chunks of watermelon (by squeezing them with his hands, juice dribbling down his elbows onto the seat, onto the floor) because it "might taste better that way." !!!??? Is anything more IMPOSSIBLE than mopping up watermelon juice and getting it all?? I don't think so.

Or, Jonathan, who has been potty trained for YEARS now having a poopy accident in his pants and deciding to clean it up himself. That's right, all ALONE, no help from Mom at all. You can imagine what my bathroom looked like; the sink, the toilet, the bath mats and the bathtub. I won't gross you out with details, but let's just say that a plunger, lots of Clorox and almost an entire roll of paper towels were involved. And, I threw away the shorts and underwear- I just couldn't take it.

OR...Rachel, who usually is SO good about asking permission before attempting anything messy, deciding to open every package (12 of them) of glitter that came with some LAME art kit that I bought her and "accidentally" getting it all over her cheeks (not an accident), dresser (probably an accident), carpet (definitely an accident), hallway (now she's just not paying attention at all)...you get the idea. My feet have glitter on them. There is glitter in almost every room of the house.

Even Jakie is in on it. My perfect boy who never spits up or pees on me when I change his diaper...you can tell where this is going, right? Spit-up on the couch, the carpet and my cloth rocking chair. Peed ALL over me, Rachel and the carpet- which the boys promptly walked into, then, feeling wetness on their feet RAN all over the carpet tracking it everywhere yelling "Oh gross! Pee!!"

Or even ME, whose big pot of beans (yes, again, those @#$% frickety frackety beans!) boiled over, bean juice splattered on the wall and was scorched to my stove burners. I'm just about to give up on beans as a good protein for my family to eat all together.

I JUST CAN'T TAKE IT!!

It's too much!

Uncle!

I give!

Cosmic forces, you win.

That is, until the cleaning ladies come again.

See? I'm really an optimist.

cousins sleepover

After Uncle Eric's wedding all the girl cousins came to my hotel room for a sleepover. It was so fun and I couldn't get enough of these girls!

jake is great

Jakie is the first of my kids to have something that resembles a real roll of fat on his little leg. He took a gander at Stella and decided he wanted to get himself some of those rolls too! He's calling Stella out for a full-on "FAT ROLL CONTEST," winner to be decided in 6 months. May the fattest baby win. These are my favorite Jake pictures so far.

christopher creek

Dan came home from work last week and said "Let's go somewhere." Two hours (no small feat) later we had loaded up our gas-guzzler and, putting thoughts of $4/gallon gas out of our minds, we headed out of hotter-than you-know-where Mesa and headed for the hills. We stayed in Christoper Creek at a "lodge" (a term applied generously- more like a wooden Motel 6) but had a GREAT time despite being able to hear our neighbors. The rooms had lofts in them for the kids to sleep in. All day long as we went from fun activity to fun activity, the kids begged "Can we just go back to the hotel (pronounced "hoe-tail" by Rachel in some inexplicable left over Texas-ness) to play?" They loved it. I loved seeing them run around on the grass at the "town party" as Johnny called it. I loved seeing Rachel chicken out of going to the top of the climbing wall, only to go back and say "I can do it this time, I know I can!" and the look on her face when she went all the way to the TOP! I loved watching Dan and Jacob cuddling. I loved the HUGE rainstorm that came up and how it sent everyone scurrying under some park cabanas, and how everyone made room for each other and made sure the kids weren't getting wet as strangers got to know one another in close quarters. I loved just being with my little family.