Gasping

Sometimes I can't help but gasp at my life. Sure I try to laugh about my life, and sometimes I cry. But there are other times, that instead of any laughter or tears, a giant gasp escapes my mouth.

Like the other day when I went outside to feed the chickens some scraps... I found myself endearingly and kindly talking to the chickens as they scampered on top of each other to get to the edge of the fence to see what I had for them. Not only was I telling the chickens to be nice to each other, I realized I was talking in a voice that up until that moment I have only ever used FOR HUMANS. 

Oh good heavens.

I think the chickens are disgusting. I refuse to eat any of the eggs they lay. I'm scared they'll peck my feet when I stand next to the coop, and I jump a mile (and let out a little scream) if one of them jumps up to try to reach what I have before it releases my hand.

But I love to go out and feed them everyday. I even spoke lovingly to the chicken laying an egg today, even though I inwardly swore I would never eat another egg for as long as I live. I also became mildly concerned, and let out a slight gasp this evening at dinner when after one bite of my chicken (from the store thank you), I pushed aside my plate.

One of my biggest gasps as of late, occurred this evening when I glanced out my kitchen window and saw Luke burying an elk head in my back yard.

Apparently, after it has been buried in the garden for 6 months, it will be reduced to pure bones, and the skull and horns will be ready to adorn his bedroom wall.

Whhaattt?? you say?

Yes.

I said the same thing.

Luke is thrilled that his dear friend Paul, saw fit to gift such a trophy to Luke. I am no animal lover (chickens aside), and I feel blindsided by this poor elk who met its fate on a mountainside three days ago and now gets MY garden as its final resting place?!

It doesn't quite make sense to me that my son Luke who always asks permission before he has a glass of milk, or asks me whether he should wear a sweatshirt or not to school, or wants my opinion on which chapter book he should read next, would not think to ask me whether an elk head CAN BE BURIED IN MY VEGETABLE GARDEN?!?!
Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I gasp.

I think the elk head has made me do all three.

A Book! A Book!

It seemed truly providential that my BFF Melanie happened to be at my house last Thursday morning when the UPS delivery man knocked on my door to deliver my box of....BOOKS!

It enabled me to have my own personal photographer while I couldn't help but smile as I cut open the box to see for the first time the published book that has an entire chapter, plus a few excerpts in other chapters written by Yours Truly. It has been a long time coming. I started writing that chapter almost 2 years ago. But when it is a book written entirely by mothers, it doesn't exactly get finished as quickly as everyone may have preferred. (It has something to do with all those children the authors are trying to mother simultaneously while writing, editing and publishing a book.)

Back to the fact I had my own personal photographer last Thursday morning. Melanie was kind enough to give all the right reactions to the excitement that I felt was bursting out of me.

It's nice to have a few fans.
Namely my personal photographer and my dear husband and five children.

My personal photographer put a picture of me on Facebook later that night holding the book with the comment, "I do races, she writes books. Congratulations to my bff on her published book."

Mike put flowers on the kitchen counter, the kitchen table and the bathroom counter, and my favorite chocolate bar under my pillow. When I thanked him not only for the flowers and chocolate but for the fact I know he had to make a special trip to a store. (They didn't come from Home Depot or any landscape supply store.) He detests stores and I was touched he made a special trip for nothing except flowers and chocolate. Turns out it was a HUGE act of love, because he just so happened to be hauling a trailer with a machine on it that evening and he had to park a fair distance away from the store to accommodate his load. I'm quite certain he's pretty much my #1 fan. (Especially because when I arrived home from somewhere Thursday evening, he was laying on the couch reading "the book.")

Although my children come in a close second for being big fans of me, for eagerly listening to me read some of my favorite parts of Chapter 10. Actually, I probably shouldn't include Joshua in that "top fans" category, because he asked more than once, "How much longer will you read for?" or made statements such as, "This is taking too long" and "Please stop reading."

Overall, it was a great day. It has been an exciting project to be a part of. There are some truly great gems found in that book, and I feel honored to have worked alongside some fabulous co-authors. It's been a long time coming, and despite having a couple of little regrets about the book (1. My title, 2. Drew is my only child not mentioned by name in the book), I can't quite describe the feeling holding that book in my hand last Thursday morning.

Although I loved the flowers around my house (I hadn't found the chocolate bar yet at this point), I thought we should do something to celebrate. We never take our children out for ice cream at Baskin-Robbins (although Mike and I go a fair amount ourselves), so it was quite the treat when the children found out we were going. As we piled into the car, I asked, "Why are we going to Baskin-Robbins?"

Sweet-minded Luke said, "Because our wonderful mother is a published author in a book."

Drew said, "Because I want ice cream."

For more information about the book, Deliberate Motherhood: 12 Key Powers of Peace, Purpose, Order & Joy, you can check it out HERE. Or you can purchase it HERE or HERE.

Laughable Politics

Although I clearly have plenty of opinions, (surprise!) I never choose to voice my political opinions or comments publicly. But I do have two things to say regarding the Presidential Debate between President Obama and Mitt Romney...

I'm not sure if it was the apple crumble and custard that I made, or the idea of a later than usual bedtime that enticed all my children to sit in my bedroom and watch it with me (and later Mike). Although I lost count how many times I had to say "shhh" or "be quiet" or "I'm trying to listen, close your mouth", I did hear some things during the debate that are worth remembering...

Backing up. A couple of days ago I heard Luke telling somebody in our family that President Obama smoked. I guess in class at school, the students were listing facts about the president, and this one came up.

Back to the debate. As Ellie and I sat on my bed playing a game of SkipBo, Ellie looked at me with a horrified look on her face and asked, "Isn't it illegal to smoke if you're the president?"

A few minutes later, Joshua glanced up to the television and saw President Obama on the screen. Excited to recognize a face, he stated, "There's Obama!" Then taking his voice down a notch and with his tone a little more serious, he asked, "Where's George Washington?"

And that is my political commentary following the presidential debate.

Completely unrelated, how did I not ever notice this photo before tonight?

A Half Birthday and Dirty Laundry

Here's the thing with my half birthday tradition...

It was first introduced and since been carried out as a way to put a little "extra" in an otherwise ordinary day. Half birthdays have never been an event in and of themselves, they just fit in with the flow of an ordinary day.

Introduce this year, specifically today, September 30th: Drew's half birthday. Not exactly an ordinary day. We have our Primary Program (the children's organization at our church that I am partly in charge of), followed by grandparents for dinner, followed by a harp recital later in the evening (at our house).

Now, one could argue that the 1/2 birthday cake could be dessert following dinner with the grandparents, but you forget that it is HALF a birthday cake. Which is barely enough for my 649 member family. (see last post!). Although I have now started to "layer it with the 'other half'" to go further. So the issue isn't really about not having sufficient chocolate cake to go around, but timing, as we're also squeezing in Mike and Megan going off to choir practice and grandparents going to visit friends in between dinner and recital. Oh, and we ought to do some sort of basic picking up of toys and clothing strewn across the family room before people come listen to harp music.

Oh! And we should probably have a little refreshments for the recital guests to enjoy. (Half a cake is out of the question.) Oh, and Megan decided a few  hours before the recital that we should make and print programs for it.

You see what I mean? I knew all week it wasn't going to exactly be the type of day that is easy to throw in a little extra like a half birthday celebration. My friend suggested I make cupcakes. Another suggested doing it a different day.

It's a HALF birthday people! A simple tradition that isn't something to reschedule and/or plan around, let alone stress about. So that's why I woke up early to frost the cake and decided we would have chocolate cake for breakfast before 9am church. Chocolate cake for breakfast would not only be delicious, but a good way to get the (supposed to be fun) celebration "out of the way."

Except while I was applying my mascara upstairs, Mike decided to come downstairs and start feeding the children scrambled eggs and toast. Obviously we hadn't communicated well regarding the chocolate cake that was unmistakably sitting in the middle of the kitchen counter, waiting to be sung around. When I suggested the children forgo the eggs in favor of chocolate cake my husband spoke up in favor of the eggs.

Now. I don't ever criticize my husband publicly, but today I will.

My husband who yesterday ate 4 glazed donuts and a bowl of ice cream (among other things) WOULD NOT let us eat chocolate cake for breakfast.

I say "WOULD NOT LET US" somewhat lightly, I could have over-ridden his opinion, but I decided instead to cut my nose off to spite my face and stormed off upstairs to finish getting dressed.

There. How's that for a half birthday synopsis AND some airing of dirty laundry?

We fit in Drew's celebration while Mike and Megan were at choir and Grandma and Grandpa were visiting friends. I may or may not have left a piece of chocolate cake for Mike.

Happy Half Birthday Drew!!

Do I Have Too Many Children?

There are a lot of times I joke about the size of my family, and grossly exaggerate the number of children I have. Living in Utah, a family my size is not unusual, and so I often forget that to many people, the number of children in our family is excessive.

When I was pregnant with Joshua, I went on a business trip to Washington with Mike. While mingling with a group of women from across the country, I was asked, "What number child will this be for you?" When I replied "Number four", I was shocked and mildly self-conscious of the gasps around me. One lady brave enough to do more than gasp, said loudly, "Good (expletive)! Four??"

Up until that point, I hadn't thought four was all that many. Of course we went one more than that, and we are now parents to five children. And as I just said, there are occasions, five children doesn't really seem like that many.

And then there are other times, when, well, five children seems like a few too many.

*  We can't take a box of granola bars (typically a 6 pack) on a family outing and have one for everyone.

*  With seven people using the toilets, we have at least one toilet clogged every other day. (I wish this were an exaggeration, but sadly it is not.)

*  When I wonder why we each didn't get very many Hot Tamales from the "theater size box", I realize the serving size says "5".

*  Our total bill when eating at a place like McDonalds or Wendys is more than the total bill for Mike and I alone to eat at a decent, sit-down restaurant and even include a tip!

*  We estimate the price of admission to Disneyland.

*  When I try to find a moment of peace and quiet around here.

*  A 9 x 13 pan of Rice Krispie treats is gone within minutes of them firming up. (Actually, if I'm around no size pan of Rice Krispie treats is sufficient.)

*  I wondered why there were finger nails (or toe nails...eeewww) all over the bathroom counter the other day. I was trying to guess who the culprit was, but then realized with 70 fingers and 70 toes around here--they could belong to just about anyone.

Then I think about Michelle and Jim Bob Duggar, who are the parents of 19 children. I have a soft place in my heart for Michelle Duggar, who together with her husband decided early on in their marriage to leave the number of children they would have up to God.

Without giving too many details, if Mike and I had made that same choice, we could probably very easily have almost double the children we have. Which I'm glad we don't, because that would mean even less Rice Krispie Treats per person and potentially more clogged toilets.

I love all five of my children, but I can't help but wonder at times if we have too many? Too many mouths to feed, too many shoes to buy, too many voices competing, too many personalities to mesh and too many messes to clean.

But then I wonder which one exactly I could have done without, and the answer is none.

I couldn't have done without the one who is always willing to curl up onto my lap or be snuggled at my side. I can't imagine not having the one who is constantly bouncing from the walls and thinks life is one big practical joke. I can't imagine not having the one that leaves trails of their belongings in every room of the house. I can't imagine not having the child that whispers their prayers into my ear nearly every night. And I can't imagine not having the one who makes me think about things I never would have thought I'd ever think about.

Do I have too many children?
No, not at all.

Especially when I consider how quickly time is flying by.

(April 2009)

Really, I wouldn't trade a thing.

(Depending of course on the day.)

Trash and Color

Some families spend their Saturdays hiking, or playing at a park, or maybe enjoying a bike ride together, perhaps some go to a ball game. Of course there are those that stay home working on house and garden projects together.

Us?

We spent our Saturday at an auction.
Yes. You read that right. At an auction.

On top of that, you could say, well, we tail-gated at the auction.

I came home from my shift at the temple on Saturday morning to find Mike had the car packed with sandwiches, chairs and blankets. He even thought to pack games!

Forget monster truck shows, county fairs and even a toddler who runs around the neighborhood in underwear. Tailgating at the auction on Saturday is perhaps one of the most white-trashiest things we have ever done as a family.

Despite suffering a few bouts of extreme boredom, the children were somewhat entertained for the most part. I mean who wouldn't be? There was an overabundance of bum cracks, cigarette smells, foul language and the occasional domestic dispute. The children loved seeing the "homeless man" buy a motor-home for $800, they wished Mike would have put a bid in for one of the school buses and/or semi trucks, and Joshua whiningly asked me why we couldn't buy a golf cart. Megan was mortified that she'd see someone she knew. Ellie threw a minor temper-tantrum and as Mike dragged her away, her cries of  "I don't want to go with you" resembled some sort of attempted kidnapping. It didn't seem to be too much of a concern to the surrounding people, which makes me realize I ought to hold my childrens' hands even tighter next time we go to the auction.

Which we will be doing according to Mike. Mike went this time to "learn about the process" and next time he'll get braver and hopefully won't come away regretting not bidding higher on a piece of small equipment.

As for me, I just hope it is a bright sunny day again next time we go, because wearing sunglasses makes it so much easier for me to disguise one of my many fine abilities.

Staring at other people.
It was the highlight of my day.
Well that and listening to the auctioneers. I loved that part almost as much as the staring! I could listen to those people for hours.

We redeemed ourselves afterwards with a drive through Emigration Canyon to see some fall colors, and found ourselves at the base of a gated community. With the exception of having to stop a child before they began to use the nearby flowerbed as a toilet, and the child waving obnoxiously into a nearby security camera, we appeared to have snapped out of our earlier trashy personas.

Well, maybe not when you consider four of the five children were not wearing shoes as they traipsed across an elite housing development's parking lot.

We are what we are.

Make up your mind

I'm big to use those scissors.
I'm little to carry that grocery bag.
I'm big to eat three cookies.
I'm little to put the toys away.
I'm big to go with Luke.
I'm little to go to my bed.
I'm big to have a knife.
I'm little to help clean up.
I'm big to stay up with Megan.
I'm little to walk that far.
I am big to ride a horse.
I am little to ride the roller coaster.

No joke. Drew has said everyone of these things. He first determines how much or how little he wants to participate in a certain activity or perform a particular task, and then he decides if he is "big" or "little". It makes us all a little bit crazy. He can be "big" and help Luke haul a 50lb bag of goat feed across the street in the red wagon, but 10 minutes later when he is asked to put away a toy, he is "little."

On a random note, if anyone has a cookie, treat or food item he wants he says, "Give me three because I'm three."

Drew is a little bit entitled. A little bit demanding. And a little bit hard-work.
But somehow he still manages to be everyone's favorite around here. Actually, I shouldn't speak for Joshua, Joshua still has some teeth marks on his chest that may make my previous sentence false.

Oh to be three and big and little.