The Things We Do

So, I think I sort of shot myself in the foot...
Especially considering just this morning, feeling as though I deserved a break I laid on the couch and let my children eat cold cereal for breakfast asking myself, "Do I do too much for my children?" (After I had already packed 5 lunches, fixed oatmeal for a child that then decided they didn't want it, and had already fixed breakfast for a child that left before the others...) Typically, after arriving home from the gym around 6:20, I'm straight into wake-up children, fix breakfast, pack lunches, get out the door mode. This morning, I went on a temporary strike.

Let's back-up to give just a little background from a couple of different perspectives...

Point one: I came home from my early morning shift working at the temple on Saturday, to find Mike organizing our big pantry. It was a pleasant, much needed surprise, yet I couldn't help feel like a little ashamed when he mentioned a long list of things we are out of, and presented a handful of expired cans of food. (I typically pride myself on not having expired food.) Now before you start thinking of faulting me for feeling shame--it wasn't like you think--it's just, well, we eat so many fresh food, fruits and vegetables, that simply keeping a fridge and pantry full for 7 people for immediate consumption, sort of makes one forget the longer term storage that's wise to keep.

Point two: Mike has been requesting that we eat more rice. I've never been a huge rice fan myself, but he likes it, and I keep meaning to incorporate more rice into our meals.

Point three: I've been sort of low on rice lately, and yesterday while at Costco, decided to stock up on rice to help out with aforementioned points one and two.

On another note,

Point one: Though we have both an upstairs and downstairs furnace, due to the layout of our home, the master bedroom upstairs is always cold. I don't like climbing into my cold sheets at night and feeling like I'm camping outside in Antarctica. Last week, I remembered a rice bag that has probably gone unused for over a year or so, and have taken to having a child heat it up for me each night and bring to my bed. I love it!

Point two: For some reason last night before bed, Drew asked if he could use the rice bag. I might add, that I think Luke had originally requested it, but somehow (I think it had something to do with him swinging it at a sibling) it ended up in Drew's possession. Somehow later, (I think after Mike caught Drew with it in mid-swing with it ready to hit Joshua) the rice bag was sitting unused in my bedroom, and Joshua politely came in and asked if he could use it. I obliged.

For the first time in a week, last night I fell asleep with cold feet.

This morning, after I had risen from the couch to continue the morning duties with my children (like making sure children have needed library books, making sure papers are signed, lunches in backpacks, teeth are brushed, medication give to child with sore arm due to yesterday's shots, etc. etc. etc.) Joshua said to me, "Mom, if today you aren't doing anything or going anywhere and you have nothing to do, will you  make a rice bag for me to use?"

It wasn't really the fact that making a rice bag will maybe take 10 minutes maximum, it's the fact my son thinks a. I likely am not doing anything or that I have NOTHING to do.

As I hugged and kissed Joshua goodbye at the front door, he again said, "Remember if you have nothing to do today, can you make me a rice bag?"

For the record, I actually have several things to do today, a few places to go, and lots of I "want to get to's". Yet the selfish part of me, remember back to my first paragraph--for whatever reason, I woke up feeling sort of selfish today; begrudging the morning routine, thinking I do wwwaaayyyyy too much for my children, and not feeling guilty that they were eating cold cereal on a mid-week day. (Typically Friday's are the only days they eat cold cereal.), all I could think about was, "I AM NOT GOING TO BED WITH COLD FEET AGAIN TONIGHT. THAT RICE BAG IS MINE."

So, to ensure that Yours Truly gets the rice bag tonight, guess what I spent 30 minutes doing this morning?
Making not one, but 3 rice bags. But I'm beginning to guess, it may have introduced a whole new slew of problems.

1. When Joshua returns home today from school and sees the rice bags, he will be happy. But there is a risk that it will confirm to him that his mother does nothing and had nowhere to go, or nothing to do other than make him a rice bag.

2. Making the rice bags took up the last of a container of rice I'd purchased yesterday at Costco, and so that is one less "storage" of rice I had so proudly added to my storage shelf yesterday. (I may add, we had rice for dinner last night.)

3. Mike isn't interested in using a rice bag. But I only made three, plus the one I have been using, plus one old one I dug out from the recesses of a closet. So that equals 5. There will likely be 6 interested persons in having a rice bag tonight.

4. It is likely one or more rice bags will again be used as a weapon tonight in an effort for the 6th person to acquire one.

5. On the bright side, perhaps someone will lose the privilege of using one, and that will make an easy solution for that problem.

Unfortunately, I have a feeling tomorrow I'll be making one more rice bag.

To answer this morning's rhetorical question to myself while laying on the couch, "Do I do too much for my children?" I answer with a resounding, "YES!!!!"

But I guess that's the price a mother has to pay to go to bed with warm feet.

My Hands, My Children, My Job

*I'm setting a mark for myself to blog on here at least once a week. So many happenings are going unrecorded, and though I'm doing it entirely for myself, I know there are a couple of readers still out there that miss me. So let's see how this goes.*

During late December, my hands finally succumbed to the cracking and dryness that often happens during the winter months. My right thumb had a significant, painful crack on it and no matter how much lotion/ointment I applied, it wouldn't heal. I dealt with it for a few days, and was hopeful that a week in the Caribbean humidity would cure it. That Caribbean humidity worked a miracle on my skin, although a havoc on my hair. (It's rare I can empathize with my mother-in-law about hair issues.) My thumb healed perfectly, and my hands spent a glorious 8 days rarely needing lotion.

Despite going on our cruise earlier than usual this year, I returned home optimistic that the softness of my skin would last throughout the rest of the cold, dry weeks of winter we have yet to endure, as it has the past couple of years post-cruise.

My visions of smooth skin for the rest of the winter didn't take into account the fact I'd be washing my hands 4,073 times for a couple of days last week, and now this week.

You see.
We have a new identity (hobby?) around here.

The Sowby Family is perhaps now better known as Public Vomiters.

Meet Joshua, third grader that spewed his breakfast, including a red berry smoothie (TMI?) across his third grade classroom last week.

And this is Drew. 1st Grader who five days after big brother's debut, decided to match him by throwing up on the school bus yesterday afternoon.

And this is Ellie. 6th grader who I kept home thinking she had a mild case of I'm-sort-of-sick-but-really-I-just-want-a-day-home-from-school. But the fact a few hours later, a bathroom rug was thrown away instead of washed, confirmed my earlier ambivalent feelings of keeping her home had in fact been the right choice.

Despite Ellie being home sick yesterday (her throwing up didn't start until after lunchtime), I decided to do Cookie Day. Every so often, I greet the children at the bus stop with a container of cookies, and I hear reports of children spying me from a few houses down as the bus approaches with chants and cheers of, "Cookie Day! Cookie Day!" I love the enthusiasm and cheers that greet me as I stand there with my blue lid container full of cookies.

Except yesterday, as I stood by while the bus doors opened, intermixed with chants of "Yay! It's Cookie Day!" and "Cookie Day! Cookie Day!" were more loud and overpowering voices yelling, "Drew threw up on the bus!" and "Drew just barfed!"

Rarely am I at the bus stop to greet my children, but the bus driver knew I was Drew's mother, so I didn't really  have an escape. I wanted to stand there passing out cookies like normal, or even run home to help Drew, but more accurately, I daydreamed for just a moment of running home, hopping in my car and escaping to a hotel for an undetermined amount of time.

I didn't.

Instead, I passed the cookies to a neighbor boy to give out, and turned to the bus driver (who had just retrieved the emergency 'Body Fluid Cleanup Kit') and I said, "I am so sorry." And then quite insincerely added, "Can I help you clean it up?"

(For the record, I asked GENUINELY at the elementary school if I could help clean up Joshua's and they told me, "Oh, the janitor's got it taken care of.")

A part of me thought the bus driver would say, "Oh no. It's part of the job, go home and take care of your child." or even, "Oh, it's no big deal. Keep passing out cookies." Instead, I somewhat stumbled into the bus as he said, "Yes. I think I will let you."

I have cleaned up a lot of throw up in my life. I'll spare you the details of some of the worst (my BFF's teenage brother throughout his whole bedroom, mere weeks after their mother died is likely still at the top), but the floor of a school bus, mixed with my child's lunch remnants come in as a close second.

Wondering how my soft hands relate to all this?

Ellie and Drew threw up more times yesterday afternoon and evening than I can count. I washed my hands more times yesterday than I have in my entire life combined.

By yesterday evening, I could feel the annual crack on the side of my thumb beginning to make a second appearance of the season.

So last night, when a child started spewing in their bucket as they walked to the bathroom, and Mike continued eating his dinner, I said, "That's fine, I'll help AGAIN. But don't be surprised when I HAVE to go alone to the Caribbean next week for medical reasons."

I'm a nice, compassionate, serving mother and wife like that.

Drew's Last Ride

When Megan was 3 years old, Santa brought her and Luke (6 weeks old) a red Power Wheels jeep. That jeep got years and years of love and use out of it. Except by the time Joshua was old enough to play with it, it was old and had been thrown out. Around that time, we inherited a pink hand-me-down jeep from somewhere, and though it barely worked Joshua discovered he loved it, but the frustration of it never working drove us all crazy.

Our neighbors at this time had a 4-wheeler Power Wheels that rarely got used. It sat in their garage in almost pristine condition and really the only time it was ever ridden was when Joshua would wander over and ask to play with it. Instead of Joshua constantly borrowing it, I offered to buy it from the neighbors, and for a pretty decent price my two younger boys have had hours and hours of play with that thing.

My children have worn the tires bare, Luke once used the seat to cut a piece of leather on, leaving some nice cut marks on it, the trailer has hauled children, hay, candy, and I'm quite sure even Hank the goat once rode in it when he was a baby. I'm fairly certain that little 4-wheeler has logged almost as many miles on it than some people's vehicles.

Except for the last several months the 4-wheeler has mostly sat in our garage in a fairly difficult to get to location. The battery didn't last as long at a time as it once did, and the speed of the 4-wheeler was getting slower and slower even with a "full" battery. Every so often I would think about selling it, but I just couldn't, and neither could Drew or Joshua if they heard me talk about it. We all felt sort of endeared to a silly toy taking up way too much room in our garage, but was so often forgotten because BMX bikes and bike jumps came first.

There are so many "lasts" we never know will be lasts. Which I am actually very grateful for. I know my heart would break far too easily if I knew each last was indeed a last. I'm glad I didn't know whenever it was that Megan grabbed my hand to hold in a store for the last time. Maybe I'm glad I didn't know one time laying in bed with Luke that it was the the last time I was telling him a Little Green Helicopter story. I don't remember knowing whenever it was that Ellie was sucking her thumb for the last time. I don't remember knowing Joshua's last time riding Ellie's hand-me-down pink tricycle that he loved to ride would have been his last.

But for whatever reason, I want to remember today. I want to forever hold in my mind, the picture of Drew climbing on the 4-wheeler and riding it for the last time. Drew rode it from our garage out to the cul-de-sac to a waiting car. And in all honesty, I thought I was going to cry.

I know it is only a 4-wheeler. A tangible, well-worn object that likely doesn't have too many more months of life left in it.  My baby rides a BMX bike and daringly jumps off of jumps. The 4-wheeler is no longer his transportation of choice.

But this morning, Drew's last ride was the end of a long era.

This morning as I was gathering up the charger and battery in anticipation of the "online-yard-sale-site-buyer" coming to purchase it, I remembered the experience buying formula for the last time for Drew that I wrote about HERE. And I knew, I needed to give the 4-wheeler away instead of selling it. My older children thought I was crazy not to get "something out of it" and were all quite willing to take over the transaction, so that I didn't give it away. But I told them they didn't understand. I had to give it away. My mother heart didn't care about making any money from my memories.

As long as the younger-than-me-mother who I gifted the 4-wheeler to this morning gets even an ounce of satisfaction and memories watching her children play on the 4-wheeler, I will always hold dear the memory of Drew's last ride this morning.

(Joshua and Drew--August 2011)

Enjoy the little things in life. One day you'll look back and realize they were the big things.

The End of An Era

Here we have our traditional stand-on-the-valve-box-photos for back to school complete with early morning squinty eyes and the glare from the sun.

Megan-11th grade

  Luke-8th grade

 Ellie-6th grade

Joshua-3rd grade

 

Drew-1st grade

I have no eloquent essay to explain this monumental day for me as a mother. My children are now all in full-time school.

I have no words.

A Thoughtful Gift for Mother's Day

Megan just gave me a Mother's Day gift a day early. It's one of my favorite gifts ever. So thoughtful, so poignant and so real. Really, it's a gift for mother's everywhere.

It's further proof that really, it's about the little things...

Enjoy.
Happy Mother's Day

Patting Myself on the Back

I recently returned from spending 9 days away from home. Mike and I enjoyed time alone together in the beautiful Southern Caribbean. For 9 days, we did little to no parenting. Unless you count responding to:

a. the phone call while sitting on the beach from my 5 year old to inform me he was alone in the house (with his 2  neighbor friends) and that the over-night babysitter hadn't locked up the house.
b. the text from Megan asking if she should check Luke out from school because he keeps texting her to inform her he feels like he is going to "barf and poop."
c. the email to Megan to tell whomever keeps purchasing songs on my i-Tunes account to stop.
d. the text to Luke telling him, "No. You can't stay home from school today to ride your horse."

I have to say it was quite nice to have very limited text/phone call/email ability.

(Mike and Tiffany-victims of a blow-hole in St. Thomas)

We returned home very late on Saturday night. Well, technically, Sunday morning. All the children were fast asleep in bed, and I wandered the {clean} house (go Megan!) kissing them goodnight, and noticing a "few things" that sort of bugged me. Mike instructed me to "let it go" and we climbed into bed about 2am.

I'm not so sure how much of my not being able to fall asleep was due to my body thinking it was 5am, or because I was busy thinking about all the things I had just noticed. Things that in my absence, didn't quite seem to happen, but that DO happen when I am home.

The bunch of bananas and bowl of apples would have been consumed instead of sitting on the counter rotting.

Joshua's "Evaluate the moon for 20 days" assignment  that I left hanging in a prominent place would have been done at least one night.

Shirts would not have been in the clean laundry basket. They would have promptly been hung up upon their retrieval from the dryer.

All of the children's candy from their school Valentine's parties, and the candy gift I left them for Valentine's Day, would not have been consumed in their entirety so rapidly. Nor would the wrappers be left strewn on the carpet as evidence. (In fairness, this was primarily the doing of Drew and Joshua.)

Drew's homework packet would have been done at least once during the week.

I fell asleep early Sunday morning, within minutes of my arrival home, mentally patting myself on the back about all the things that occur when I am home.

As if I needed further proof of my mothering and household-running competence...

Seven hours later (yes. that's right.), we sat in church with our family. Drew was sitting close to Mike, and I heard Mike ask him, "Did you brush your teeth at all while we were gone?" To which Drew responded timidly, "Umm. No." Disgusted, I asked him, "Did you bathe or shower while we were gone?" To which Drew replied, "I had a tubbie once."

Just for the record I thought I'd see how Joshua's personal hygiene fared in our absence, and I leaned across Mike and questioned Joshua, "Did you brush your teeth while we were gone?" His face resembled Drew's as he quietly answered, "I did once."

I turned my focus back to the church meeting, but not before snidely commenting to Mike, "I do a lot when I'm home."

In addition to bananas not rotting, and clean laundry being hung up, when I am home, teeth get brushed and bodies get cleaned.

I didn't dare ask if Drew ever changed his underwear.
I honestly, don't want to know.

PS-The babysitter, and the older children did a FABULOUS job running the household while we were gone. Plenty of things were done, and done well. There were just a few things that obviously fell through the cracks. Oh well.

Great Moms in Davis County

I spent Saturday with some wonderful mothers in Davis County, UT! I've been to more Power of Moms Retreats than I can count, but I have to say, this one was one of my favorites! Those mothers!!!!

These ones were some of the best.

I know I say it after every Power of Moms Retreat, but there is nothing like being in a room full of deliberate mothers. There is always so much focus, energy, and optimism about the role of motherhood, and I love it.

In the week leading up to the retreat, I spent a lot of time vacillating about whether or not this was possibly one of my last Power of Moms Retreat. There are some other opportunities I'm feeling drawn to right now too. But the fact will always remain...that I have a strong passion for motherhood and mothers in general. We are a mighty powerful force, together shaping the future of society. I feel blessed that for over 4 years, I have had so many opportunities to rub shoulders with some truly great mothers.

I so wish I had thought to take a picture of Lori Conger and me together! She was my co-presenter and a great mother! This is our second event to present together...boy do I love her! I have much to learn from her.

One of my favorite parts of the retreats is listening to the small group discussions, and looking at mothers' faces as they speak of things so dear to them.

 Motherhood is hard. But it is also so beautiful and joyous. I love that these mothers feel the same.

I wish we had thought to take the group photo at lunch time. A few people had to leave at different times during the afternoon, but this group still represents the fabulous group we had at the retreat.

As always, my thoughts return to the quote by Helen Keller that I know I think about after every retreat,

"Alone we can do so little, together we can do so much."

I'm quite certain, that if circumstances allowed for mothers to meet together in groups like this weekly, we could quite possibly, solve every mothering problem out there. That many deliberate mothers together, supporting and encouraging each other is a powerful thing.

Grand Champion

Did I really not blog much this summer? Ugh. I'm rarely one to go back and catch up, but I can't possibly neglect to record Luke's experience at the Davis County Fair this year.

This was the 4th year in a row that Luke entered his goat(s) into the Davis County Fair. Last year, I finally realized the fairs weren't so bad after all if:

a. I have no other children with me
b. I bring plenty to read and/or do and realize no one keeps to a schedule
c. I wear closed toe shoes

This year, I was ready for it. A week before, I was mentally prepared for a day at the fair, complete with a good book to read, some closed shoes and nothing on the schedule that would mean Megan couldn't babysit the other children for me. I found myself actually looking forward to it.

And then a dear friend passed away, and I received news that her funeral was on the same day as the fair. The same day. The same time.

I cried plenty of tears that a dear lady I loved had passed away, and I shed a few tears that I would miss Luke at the fair. Luke completely understood my absence, and I sent my best wishes and luck to him, and promised I'd check my phone frequently during the funeral for photos.

The funeral I attended was wonderful. It was a touching tribute to a mother whose 6 grown children spoke lovingly and humorously of life with her as a mother. I found myself reflecting on my own mothering throughout the funeral, and the fact I wasn't with Luke did pull at my heart a fair amount.

Just as the funeral was nearing the end, I received a text from Mike with the following photo that read, "Packer was just announced as the Grand Champion."

 

"What????" was my simple reply.
Then I shed a little tear that I wasn't there.

My friend who was being honored that day, read my blog regularly. She would comment frequently to me about my children, my writings, and my musings. She wasn't much of a lady for fanfare or attention, and would likely had advised me to go to the fair instead of her funeral. But like I told Luke, there will be plenty of opportunities for me to attend more county fairs, but that was my only opportunity to attend a tribute to her.

Besides, he has a good story to tell at my funeral one day...
"My mother attended lots of boring county fairs where my goats didn't win anything. But one year, my goat won Grand Champion of them all and it just so happened that was the one year my mother wasn't there..."

A Fairy?

The long awaited day arrived recently...Joshua FINALLY lost his first tooth. He and Megan had a co-op effort to remove the tooth, and it was immediately placed under his pillow to await the over-rated yet highly anticipated tooth fairy.

Joshua woke up earlier than usual on Friday morning, and with a big grin on his face announced, "I got a dollar from the tooth fairy." His toothless grin and excitement over the mysterious placement of money under his pillow made me feel encouraged that I'd chosen laziness and had slept through my early morning Pilates class and was still in bed to greet him.

I like to think I somehow deserved the reward of seeing his early morning elation regarding a dollar bill under his pillow.

Luke on the other hand, upon waking up greeted me in my bathroom and asked in a somewhat accusing manner, "Why did you hit me in the face last night?" Despite no one else being around, I gave him that "mother look" and in a hushed voice said, "I wasn't in your room last night." To which his all-knowing 12 year-old prowess stated, "Well the Tooth Fairy is violent and she says bad words" as he turned to leave me to apply my mascara with no further interruption.

Seriously.
Children.
Forget the children. Where's the person that started the dumb (d_ _ _?) tooth fairy tradition in the first place? I have a few words to say to them?

Do they not know that the summer has already taken a toll on this mother?

Do they not know the skip in my step as I walked down the upstairs hall late the other night, encouraged that for the first time in A LOT of lost teeth the highly esteemed and sometimes forgetful Tooth Fairy was actually coming on the FIRST NIGHT???

We'll let my late-night Facebook Status tell the rest of the story....

For the first time in A LOT of lost teeth, the Tooth Fairy finally remembered to come on the FIRST night. Except as she tiptoed into the dark room, she tripped on a cardboard "airport", and fell onto the toothless sleeping child. The fall made enough noise to wake the nearby 12 year old, and as she went to hug him goodnight she elbowed him in the eye. Which caused him to make a loud noise, which made the Tooth Fairy realize she needed to get out of the room quickly before her identity was at risk. While leaving, she stepped on a sharp object and may or may not have said a bad word out- loud. The Tooth Fairy is still suffering the effects of having a sharp object jammed into her foot.

Whose dumb idea was a Tooth Fairy tradition?

Knowing full well Megan's displeasure in being assigned a responsibility to actually DO a secretive task, Megan had instead been threatened enlisted and strongly encouraged to not let the Tooth Fairy forget her duties. Megan didn't fail.

Except her timing was slightly off. She came into my bedroom to remind me about the visiting Tooth Fairy as I laid in my bed nursing a sore foot due to aforementioned sharp object jamming. I was a little less than cheery towards her and likely didn't thank her for her reminder. Which I didn't need.

In case you forgot... I remembered it all on my own.
ON THE FIRST NIGHT.
Although I may think twice about remembering it next time.

D_ _ _ Tooth Fairy.

A Renewal

I had one high expectation this summer...that I wouldn't feel worn down by the beginning of August like I usually do. I have fallen terribly short of reaching that expectation.

I am extremely worn down.
I am snappy, and ornery, and I honestly daydream about becoming "one of those mothers" that runs away. You know the kind. The ones that don't come back into their children's lives until they are grown adults.

There. I've admitted my weakness out loud, and it already feels better to admit it aloud. (Well, I did also admit it to Mike last week. Problem was, I think he was concerned I was serious. Which I guess I kind of was. It had been one of those days.) Somehow it is therapeutic to write out my weakness for everyone to see. Besides writing on this blog, is cheaper than a good hour with a therapist.

Anyway, I digress. This was and is intended to be a lovely, beautiful uplifting post, where the joy of motherhood oozes from the words. So let's try again.

This evening I decided to go on a bike ride with my three boys. (I had intended to go alone, but that didn't happen...) A little way into it, Luke offered to return home with Drew and let me enjoy it without Drew cutting me off and making me have to brake every few inches. Joshua and I continued the bike road alone. It was a lovely cool (for August) evening and Joshua and I rode along for 5 miles or so.

I didn't have my phone with me, so I wasn't able to capture a photo. But I'm actually glad about that. Sometimes mind photos are the best anyway.

Joshua rode ahead of me much of the way, his small little bum going side to side as he stood on his pedals riding as fast as his little legs would go. On our return home, I was reminded of exercising with Joshua and Drew years ago. This particular moment I recorded HERE came to mind. And I was suddenly thrust into a sentimental memory while my little boy ahead of me pedaling reminded me how quickly the years have passed since he was a barely three year old child running ahead of his stroller.

Joshua is my sweet child. Caught alone with that boy, he reminds me of all that is good, peaceful and beautiful in the world. He is the peacemaker and the giver of the family. The more passive personality among the assertive companions he lives with. Joshua is an antithesis of his mother.

As we rode along on our bikes tonight, a bench up ahead caught my eye and I called ahead to Joshua to wait for me at the bench. And then we stopped, relaxed and visited together. We sat side by side on the bench, with Joshua's red mohawk helmet on his head and enjoyed the views of the beautiful mountains I love. The same mountains I look at daily from my kitchen and family room windows, they are stalwart and un-moving and  rarely a day goes by that I don't look at them in some metaphorical, deep way.

Joshua and I then raced home on our bikes. Joshua clearly beat me by a long-shot and I was greeted with a big trademark Joshua smile as I approached the trail head.

Whether it was Joshua, the mountains, the fresh air, or a tender mercy from God that refreshed my heavy heart tonight doesn't matter. What matters is I am reminded to keep showing up, and to keep pressing forward. Motherhood isn't supposed to be easy. Neither is summer vacation. But sometimes those brief moments come along and I'm reminded that it isn't as complicated and hard as it so often seems. This quote by President Uchtdorf in one of my favorite talks ever reminds me, "There is a beauty and clarity that comes from simplicity that we sometimes do not appreciate in our thirst for intricate solutions."

My blog has been somewhat neglected this summer, but I am reminded tonight, that when I take the time to put my thoughts and feelings into words, things just feel better. And even though tomorrow I'll still have arguing children, crumbs on the counter, abandoned socks in every room, and pee on the toilet seat, my children are only young once. These days will not last forever.

I know that.
I need to remember it every minute of every day.

The days are long, but the years are short.

The grand Grand Canyon

During our recent trip, Mike and I woke up on Monday morning in Kanab, ready to drive somewhere! We had already decided that we wouldn't go "straight home", but we had misunderstood each other about what detour we would be taking. I was pleasantly surprised when Mike announced we were going to the Grand Canyon! I was so excited. I had started reading a book the night before titled, 'I am the Grand Canyon', and I was regretting I was "so close" but wouldn't be visiting. The children weren't exactly thrilled about adding more driving to our road-trip, but Mike gave them all some Dramamine (3 of the 5 get extremely car sick if we don't, and the other 2 get the medicine for good measure.)

The drive to the canyon was a beautiful, steep, peaceful drive. We saw so many different scenes, from the red rocks, to forests of pine trees, open fields, roaming buffalo, etc. It was a testament of God's creation, and I was (for the most part) able to ignore the "How much longer?" and "Are we there yet?" questions from the back seat once the drowsiness of the medicine wore off.

I'm saving my initial experience at the Grand Canyon for my personal journal...it was a spiritual and enlightening experience for me.

Luke's cell phone's screen is a photo of the Grand Canyon. It makes me smile every time that I see it. I love that my children appreciated the beauty of one of God's greatest masterpieces.

Drew was a pain.in.the.butt. the entire time we were at the canyon. I particularly didn't want him to go into the gift store with me when I went to purchase some postcards. Joshua on the other hand did go with me, and I let him pick out a Grand Canyon key chain. Somehow, Drew made it into the store with an older sibling and immediately started whining about wanting a silly toy telescope. Not even giving him the time of day, I purchased my items and exited. While we sat outside writing postcards, Drew went on and on about the silly telescope, and Luke politely asked if he could have a key chain too. I went in the shop to buy Luke a key chain, and on a whim decided I would buy the (pretty cheap) telescope for Drew and give it to him later as either a souvenir, a bribe, or a reward. (This family trip was beginning to wear we down in more ways than one.)

I sent Megan off in search of some ice cream as a treat (FYI-there is none to be found at the North Rim.), Joshua was trying to use the compass on his key chain, Luke was viewing his key chain, Ellie was quietly enjoying the surroundings, I was trying to get some remote cell phone service to look up my in-laws mission address, Drew was crying and whining about why he didn't get a key chain and why can't he get the telescope, and Mike was...

Let's see. I think Mike was off enjoying some beautiful views A.L.O.N.E.

Mike soon returned, as did Megan with the bad news there was no ice cream to be consumed, and everyone was mildly disappointed my promise of ice cream would not be fulfilled. Except for Drew, all he cared about was the telescope he so desperately wanted.

In a very weak parenting moment, and throwing all sane parenting lessons of entitlement and giving-into-tantrums out the window, I pulled that brown paper shop bag out of my purse turned around to Drew, shoved the bag against his chest and said, "Here! Have a telescope!"

I turned back around and began marching towards the car. Much to my dismay, I knew full well I had a 6 person entourage following me. Which really, what did you expect them to do? No words were needed, but my body language had just announced, "Our time at the Grand Canyon is over."

For about 15 seconds I heard no sound from Drew behind me and began silently praying thanks that toy telescope manufacturers exist in this world. Before my toy manufacture prayer of gratitude was over, without having to turn around, I heard Drew's silence stop and the tantrum start again, this time more passionately than before. Mike--the sane parent among us, was not going to reward Drew's behavior, and took away the desired telescope from Drew almost as quickly as I had handed it to him. In my heart I knew I should be thankful for a good, sane, deliberate co-parent, but all I could wish for in that moment, was why couldn't Mike make a bad parenting choice with me and shut our child up by giving him the damn telescope!

(Disclaimer: Drew is soooo not typically like this. I'm not sure what had gotten into him!?! Too many late nights? Too many hours on the road?) 

We loaded into the car, with a couple of brave children courageous enough to speak say, "Is there a chance we could eat before we begin the long drive again?" We pulled over to a nearby picnic area, pulled out our trusty cooler and sat in one of the most beautiful places we have ever "picnicked". Yet no one really spoke, no one enjoyed themselves, and no one basked in the beauty of our location.  

If you look at nothing else but where Megan chose to sit, you'll see why this photo speaks a thousand words.

Although I have chosen to share only the "negative parts" of our trip to the Grand Canyon, I know from hearing children speak of it since returning, that it remains one of their top highlights of our recent trip. We made some wonderful memories and had a fabulous time together, but the fact remains, I want to be able to remember the realness of our time together too. I don't want to look back and think traveling with five children in a car for hours was easy and blissful. It isn't and wasn't, but it is the difficult parenting moments, that make the good moments so much better.

The Grand Canyon was beautiful! I wish I could have spent more time in such a wonderful place. I wish I could have sat in a chair overlooking the canyon for hours with a journal in my hand, recording all of my thoughts and feelings. One day Mike and I will return to the Grand Canyon sans children.

(I had no idea Mike took this photo, until I saw it on my computer! Very fitting.)

Our journey home, took us via the Pipe Springs National Monument in Arizona. It was very, very hot, but a nice step back in time to the history of the American Indians and Mormon Pioneers trying to negotiate land, water and rights.

Hours after our ice cream search at the Grand Canyon, we rewarded our children with ice cream at a Indian Reservation gas station before beginning the long drive straight home. If you don't count the few times Joshua had to stop and pee, our non-fast visit to a fast food restaurant, we made it home with relatively few detours and stops.

It was a grand adventure I'm not sure we'll repeat anytime soon.

"Sometimes we become so focused on the finish line that we fail to find joy in the journey."

~Dieter F. Uchtdorf

Joy (?) in the Journey

I don't enjoy road trips. They give me anxiety (real anxiety, not traveling with 5 children induced anxiety). However, I have to say, that I did very well on our recent trip to and from our family reunion in Flagstaff, AZ.

(Okay, if you forget the part on the way down that I yelled at Mike and he snapped back, "I think you're overdue for another dose of your travel medicine." Point well taken.)

Although driving to Flagstaff is absolutely do-able in a day, Mike and I decided to emphasize "joy in the journey" instead of "joy in a final destination", and we split the drive up. On the way down to Flagstaff, we stopped over-night in Kanab, UT. It's a charming little town, and I love the Holiday Inn hotel there. After a take-out dinner from the local Pizza Hut, some of the children and Mike swam. At one point, Mike and I left the hotel room with 5 fighting children and escaped downstairs to a lounge. We were fairly certain at one point that the sounds above us would get us removed from the hotel, but alas we stayed the night.

The bright spot of the hotel stay? Three queen beds in one hotel room!!!! Fabulous. Why don't more hotels have that option!?!

We left for Flagstaff the next morning with a stop at one of Mike's favorite places...Lake Powell.

We had anticipated grand tours of the Glen Canyon Dam, but only 2 tour spots were left, so we opted to do it upon our drive via again on Sunday afternoon. We enjoyed some snacks in the shade, beautiful views, but not each other. This was a tense time in our trip, but look how the photos (kind of) fool you all.

Our days in Flagstaff have already been recorded, so back on the road again for the ride home. Loading our car up at the hotel in Flagstaff was another tense time. I wondered why in the world I hadn't driven back to Phoenix with my Cousin Jennifer and caught a flight home from there instead of torture the car ride home. I wouldn't have done that to my dear Mike though, although he likely would have supported it. (He not only puts up with 5 children in the car, but a travel-anxiety wife too.)

(Ellie was with us, but I'm not that flexible to have secured a photo of her sleeping too!)

Mike was so proud of the miles per gallon he got our suburban up to a couple of times. I acted enthusiastic and excited for him, even though I really don't get too pumped about 13.7 mpg, 17.8 and no, not even 21.0. But I did secure a few "proof" photos for him of his proud suburban-owner moment.

As we drove through the Indian Reservation filled areas of Arizona, Mike and I got carried away in a conversation about Native Americans. Realizing I have never had those basic US History classes that he (and my children) had/have, Mike gave me some Indian history lessons. I fell in love with some of the history I heard, and upon arrival at the Glen Canyon Dam visitor's center a few hours later, bought myself a book I am thoroughly enjoying.

 Upon arrival at the Dam, we were all in need of some food, leg room, and bathroom. I went and secured tickets for the 3:30pm Dam Tour, declining to join  (due to aforementioned "needs") the 3:00pm one  that was being led away. At 3:20pm, we arrived at our Dam Tour meeting place, only to be told that essentially we were part of history at the Dam... Due to extreme temperatures, for the first time ever, the tour was being cancelled. I am NOT a tour type person, but Mike is, and he and the older two children were very, very disappointed. I was disappointed for them, and then disappointed for myself that if we hadn't have been so excited about getting to the DAM tour, we could have taken a different route home via the Grand Canyon instead.

We loaded disappointed and heavy-hearted children back into the suburban, and continued our journey home, via another night in Kanab.

Now, I have to interrupt myself to mention a little fact about (road) traveling with Mike...He isn't much about junk food and snacks....for the children. While he is up front chowing down Hot Tamales and guzzling Mountain Dew, the cooler offered grapes, apple slices, carrots, string cheese, etc. for the children. (I exxagerate slightly...they did have the occasional permission granted to also partake of some Hot Tamales.) Anyway, it turned into somewhat of a (not funny) joke that upon someone mentioning they were hungry for an actual meal, Mike would tell them there were plenty of snacks in the cooler. Luke especially tired of this overheard line, and complained and moaned the loudest about how desperately he needed a "real meal."

Our arrival in Kanab didn't come any too soon, and we rolled into that small town on Sunday evening hungry, tired and a little weary. We entered and exited the McDonalds in a single step (most disgusting, gross, dirty, fast food place I have ever seen!), and found ourselves at a charming little diner. We ordered a few plates for us to share, with the exception of Luke who was granted his own $8.95 hamburger. I know it's a blurry photo, but for the sake of what will always be a Sowby Family Trip Memory, we must preserve the remembrance of Luke not having a bite of his $8.95 hamburger. Instead he visited that little diner's restroom more times than he would have liked. We'll preserve Luke's dignity from here on out, but that $8.95 REAL MEAL he was finally granted ended up in a hotel garbage can the next morning.

Mike and I broke all our own rules of not swimming on the Sabbath day, and allowed the children that wanted to, to swim at the pool on Sunday night.

At the risk of losing our parenting license, I will refrain from sharing the story about Mike and me laying on the hotel bed. Him watching television, me reading, Megan in the joining room watching a different television. All of the sudden the hotel fire alarm rings. I went into a momentary state of panic that we are separated from our children and grabbed my purse and we headed out to the halls to evacuate with the other hotel guests. We saw Luke from a distance, and I relaxed slightly at the sight of him, and then tensed up to my maximum state when his response about the other three children was, "Oh, I don't know, I left them at the pool."

That night wasn't exactly one of the most stellar parenting nights in our experience. But we all lived to tell the tale, and I'm sure the hotel guest that put birthday candles on a birthday cake won't do it again anytime soon.

Wow! This post is long, and I've changed my mind about adding to it. Besides, the detour we took to the Grand Canyon the next morning complete with my mini-temper tantrum as I shoved a telescope against Drew's chest and marched off to the car, deserves a post of its own. Forget the grandeur of nature, and the beauty of the canyon, that little "telescope moment" remains the highlight of Mike's visit to the Grand Canyon a couple of weeks ago.

Tomorrow...
I promise.