Some Right-before-Samuel-Arrived Pictures

And the only Easter pictures we have this year. :)

(I'm just excited to have so many pictures of my beautiful oldest children.  They've been sadly neglected lately.)

Samuel

I am warning you up front.  This is the story of Samuel's birth.  If you are uncomfortable with that, feel free to dispense with reading this post.  But I don't mind putting it up for my friends who are far away and want to know the story, and I want to record it as the miracle that it was.  However, since I'm recording for my own family history purposes, it's long and detailed, because that's my favorite way of writing.  Like I said, you've been warned.

I'm going to tell you from the get-go that despite the number of children I've actually given birth to, the whole birth thing is really terrifying for me.  I don't cope well with pain, and I have a tendency to get really anxious, panicky even (Bob's translation here would be something akin to "She goes totally nuts!").  We've decided that had I lived in any other era of medicine, or even in some of the poorer regions of the world, I would have died in childbirth.  My anxiety makes me really tense and draws the whole process out.  That means that with my oldest I labored for 12 hours, with my 2nd for 24 hours, and with my 3rd for 36 hours.  Remember that the 4th is adopted--best birth for me ever!  My 5th was an induction and it was ... extremely hard--let's just say that I labored for 9 hours--the first 7 hours NOTHING happened, and then it ALL happened way too fast in the last 2 hours.  And did I mention that the only child who came before her due date was Sariah, and that's because she was induced?

The point of all of this is to tell you that I spent this pregnancy with our 6th child trying to figure out how to make things easier, and trying to mentally prepare myself for whatever might come.  I read a bunch of books by midwives and a bunch of books about natural birth and a bunch of books about coping with labor.  The conclusions I came to are that 1) pain medicines are evil, and 2) you have to "ride the waves" of labor (whatever the freak that means), and 3) you have to stay calm.  Here's where I start laughing hysterically.  Okay, in reality, I came away from all that reading with a lot to think about.  I had no idea how to stay calm, but I knew I needed to.

That's when I started praying.  With past births, I've prayed a lot before, but usually about things that were just outside my influence, like which doctor was on call (it's always worked out to my satisfaction; if you know my doctor's practice, you know what this means), whether I had a c-section or not (I've never had to have one), whether I could make it without an epidural (whatever).  Nothing wrong with praying about those things, I'd wager.  This time around, I knew what I wanted, and I asked Heavenly Father to help me figure out how to get that, always with the condition that we went with His will.  I didn't really want to add that condition, but I did it anyway.  ;)

So here's what I wanted: a birth that I could remember.  This because my last 3 epidurals were a little overdone.  They had to wake me up to push with Lizziy.  Or with Caleb, the details are a little fuzzy since I had just come down with a full-blown sinus infection and thought I was going to die before the contractions started coming.  I didn't want that to happen this time.  So, in my mind, this time around, that meant no epidural (ha!), and no freak allergy-related illnesses at the last minute.  I wanted to be able to stay calm, like all the books said, so that I wouldn't top all the other labors with like a 48-hour labor or something equally dreadful.  I wanted it to be a truly beautiful and spiritual experience.  The books talk about that, right?  Oh yeah, and though I didn't mention this in my prayers because I absolutely knew better, a super-short labor, a less-than-gargantuan newborn, and a timely arrival (i.e. not 2 weeks late) did cross my mind.

I did not stay calm, but it was a memorable (and short) birth, and it really was beautiful and spiritual.

I had been feeling very discouraged, because I'd been to the doctor on Thursday, and nothing had changed.  Still dilated at a 1, and the baby hadn't even inched downwards at all.  Dr. P set me up to be induced, I guess because he didn't think the baby would show up any faster than my other babies did either.  I was excited about setting the date, even though I wasn't too hip on being induced again, but I was really disappointed that all of my praying and working on relaxing through Braxton Hicks contractions hadn't accomplished a blimmin' thing.


Hindsight being 20/20, on Saturday, I should have figured out that the baby was coming.  I had a backache the entire day, and then I couldn't sleep that night because my belly was so uncomfortable and tense.  Silly me!  I really have given birth 4 other times, I swear.

I finally went to bed at 3 a.m., but woke up whimpering 45 minutes later with a decent contraction.  My labors never start with decent contractions.  Bob happened to be awake, and as I was laying there, my eyes popped open, and I jumped out of bed.  "Hmm, that's interesting!" and I ran to the bathroom.  My water had broken!  I hoped.  Eight.  Days.  Before.  My.  Due.  Date.  Wow.

Let's just say that I hadn't packed my bag or anything for the baby.  We had just set up the crib that day, and I'd finally washed his coming-home outfit.  In fact,  I kept telling Bob we had plenty of time; last time my water broke, I still had to have help getting that baby here.  And besides, what if I'd finally just peed my pants; I was 9 months pregnant after all.  Blah, blah, blah.  He completely ignored me.  How did he know?!  He got in the shower, and told me to pack my bag.

He was smart.  I was having contractions every 5 minutes, and I was beginning to have an inkling that this baby was showing up faster than the others.  We called beautiful Lorna at 4:freakin':30 in the morning, and got her all set up to do Easter with the kiddos.  (I'm still sad that I missed that; Sariah's at just the right age for hunting Easter eggs!)

We're at the hospital by 5, praying that they will keep me.  They check me, and I'm dilated to a 3 and 70% effaced, but the nurse warns me to wait to see if my water is really broken.  I'm doing a mental happy dance though, because I've never made it to the hospital at anything but a 1.  They were keeping me, even if they didn't think so yet.  I had already started asking for my epidural.

I know, I know.  I said no epidural.  But by then the contractions had jumped from 5 minutes apart to 2 minutes apart (and they were still wondering whether to keep me??), and they were getting more intense.  I just knew that I was going to need the epidural.  And besides, I'd gotten to a 5 now without one so I was progressing in my pain management efforts, right?  I'd never gotten past about a 3 without an epidural, unless you count Sariah's birth, when the epidural didn't actually work.

Getting the epidural was the painful part.  It took the poor guy 4 tries, because I was shaking so badly and couldn't stop.  He told me to, but I couldn't.  The nurse told me later that's because I was in transition and didn't have any control over it.  I was lucky to get my epidural at all, she said.  But once I got it...yeehaw!  It was the best epidural ever.  Just right.  Worth all the trouble.  Took the pain away, but I could still feel my legs, and it didn't make me drowsy.  The anesthesiologist said he knows he got it right because I was smiling and laughing.  Somebody asked me later if I knew how fast the baby was going to come, would I have gotten the epidural?  Heck yeah!  I love me my epidurals.  But they are a fine art.  I'm still blowing kisses to the anesthesiologist today for doing such a good job.

Then, for a brief moment, all the doctors and nurses were gone, and Bob and Hannah and I were alone together in the room.  Bob looked at me and freaked out, because where the second before there had been smiling and laughing Tracy, now there was crying Tracy.  He must have thought something was wrong, but I had gone all teary-eyed because things were going so well and so differently from all the other times.  Without a doubt my prayers were being answered, though what I did to deserve it this time, I don't know.  I looked out the window and the sun was up and shining; it reminded me of one of my favorite scriptures: "weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning" (Ps. 30:5).  That happened when Hannah was born, too.  It felt like we were coming full circle.

And then right before 8, as happens with hospital births, the room filled up with people.  Pretty soon, Dr. P shows up, and he looked wiped out tired.  He says, "They called me about you at 5:30 this morning, and I rolled over and went back to sleep.  I figured I wouldn't see you until at least noon."  That's what I thought, too!  One and a half contractions, not very many pushes, and a few minutes (oh yeah, and a whole conversation about our children's names, ending with Dr. P's prediction that Rex's nickname with the girls will be Sexy Rexie) later, out came Samuel into the world.

Of course he was beautiful!  Just the right color, even if he didn't really want to cry much.  Lots of dark hair.  At first, he reminded me of Sariah, but then it became Caleb and Hannah.  Oh wait!  Our kids are cookie cutters.  Except for Elisabeth.  She broke the mold!  Anyhow, Samuel survived the knot in his cord (which Dr. P untied before the student nurse could look at it), and weighed in at 7'3"--my smallest baby by an entire pound, and 2 whole pounds smaller than the last baby.  He was tiny!  (If your babies were smaller, there is no need to comment--this is the only little baby I get).  And he's perfect in every way!!!  More pics coming soon.  It wasn't exactly the way I planned it, but it was the perfect answer to all our prayers.

P.S.  It only took me two weeks to write this.  LOL!

Put It in Perspective

Isn't it fascinating how the toddler that just days ago you thought was so small and young and little seems so grown up all of a sudden?

He's a Keeper!

Check out these completely amazing pictures of Samuel.  Thanks to my sweet friend Amber at fifephotography for her amazing patience and for these incredible memories!

Blessed

He's here, he's here!!!

Samuel arrived on Easter morning, weighing in at 7 lbs, 3 oz, with a head of dark hair. He was a little unexpected. I want post more and some pictures, but I can't quite yet. I need a working wireless connection to do so. Be patient, but know that he's here, all is well, and we are very excited!!

Bobcat!

Caleb received his Cub Scout Bobcat award this week.  Even though he did all the work for it last March, I am a bad mom and failed to take care of things until this March.  Next month, he will receive his Wolf award, and then he'll be a Bear!  Whoa, time flies.  In the mean time, Mom got to paint his face, and he got to "pin me."  It was lots of fun, and I'm really proud of all the hard work he's put in to get things done!

All City Orchestra Concert

I've said this before, but every year about this time, I am completely impressed with our school district's instrumental music program.  They put on all-city band and orchestra concerts.  They are at the Lloyd Noble Center--you know, where OU plays its games.  In the picture above, that's the entire floor of the LNC filled with all of the city's orchestra students, grades 5-12.  Not a great picture, but you get the idea.

The cool thing about the concert is you get to see how far your kids have come from the 5th grade.  Each grade plays one song apiece, so it doesn't drag on foooooorrrrrever.  We paid especial attention to the 5th graders, who actually get to play 3 very short pieces, and the 7th graders.  Wow!  What a difference 3 years will make in orchestra performance.  Am I a bad mom, though, to admit that it was really the 8th graders rendition of the Pink Panther that made my whole evening?

Then, at the end, all of the orchestra students perform a specially arranged piece.  This year, it was called Songs of America, and featured and unfurled American flag, complete with a few streamers.  It really was pretty awesome.

Meanwhile, one of my daughters was not too pleased to have her picture taken:

But at least she didn't hide like our friend Cheyenne did (she's the waving folder behind Lizziy in the following picture):

And in the end Lizziy gave up battling and let me take a favorite picture (anything to make your pregnant mom happy, right?):

Check This Out!

My friends April and Mindy threw me and the baby boy a totally fantabulous shower last weekend.  My generous friends provided us with all sorts of baby items that are NOT pink--this is an important detail since I'd gotten rid of bunches of baby things, and so was lacking in the blue department, but let's not go into the cultural mores of blue versus pink and all that jazz.

In any case, the most amazing part was the cake made by my friend Jewel.  Isn't it awesome?  She spent like 9 some-odd hours on it, because obviously, she has far more patience for detail than I do.  It was very intricate and this picture does not do it justice, but one, I played with Photoshop for awhile to see what I could come up with, and two, I did manage to save the little guy on top from my ravenous and devouring children and take a close up of him, just so you could see it.

Sariah did eat the arms off of him not too long after I took this picture.  Even now, looking at the picture, she says, "That's Samuel, and I like his arms.  Yum, yum, yum!"

Anyhow, don't I love you all?  And by the way, the cake was really yummy, too!

Grammy, This Post's for You

My mother has been asking if we've reached the Short Pencil Phase yet.  After she explained herself, I knew what she was talking about, but I really believed we were safe.  Ha!  My son is very proud.

Lest My Pride Become Unbearable

In the interests of preserving my meekness and humility (ROTFL), my husband has been diligently photographing me to help me remember how "small" I am with this pregnancy.  I ask you, though, if I am small this time, how freakin' big have I been in the past?  No.  Nevermind.  Don't answer that.

Look, he even took pictures with another person to give perspective.  If you look closely at either picture you can see all the places where food missed my mouth.  This happens regularly whether I'm pregnant or not, but now my belly is big enough to graciously catch everything for me.  I cut off my own head on purpose, just so you know.  My mouth was hanging open because I can't breathe through my nose half the time (hello, allergies).

Like I said, I'm not really feeling the "small" thing.

Meet the Cousin

At Caleb's birthday party, we finally got to meet the new cousin, Savannah.    I got to hold her first, despite my impossibly big belly, but then Bob just stole her away from me, like he does all the babies.  In any case, Savannah sure is a cutie, and Sariah was thrilled to hold her ... we hope this lasts through the next several months.

Lizziy also spent some quality time with the newest family member:

Elisabeth was very eager to hold the baby.  She was shocked when we told her that when her brothers were little, she would hold them for about 30 seconds at a time and then just drop them whenever she was done.  She staunchly declares that this will never happen with the coming new baby.  Probably not, I would have to agree.  I suppose she's gotten a little more responsible than a 2 to 4-year-old since then.  :)

The Amazing Modern Woman

I feel like we are doing a decent job in bringing up our girls. I find a lot of joy in being a mother and a wife and a homemaker (notice that I haven't said it's "practically perfect in every way").  But I am also a girl who grew up in the 70s, 80s, and 90s, and I take a great deal of pride in being able to address and hopefully resolve my own problems.  And so it has tickled my fancy to see, in a just few days time, Sariah happily helping her dad install the new (quieter and improved) dishwasher.  If we'd known how happy this would make her, abandoning her TV, talking like a magpie, and animatedly locating tools for Daddy, we would have replaced the dishwasher a long time ago.

But she can also attack the household chores with gusto.

I suppose we could analyze the difference in the looks on her face, but I really think that's taking it a bit too far, don't you?

I feel like I should add that I would probably never install a new dishwasher, because I'm far too lazy to do so, but I probably could if I had to.  And also, if Sariah's carrying around a duster, it's more likely because she's following her father's example than mine, because I'm far too lazy to dust regularly.  Wait!  I'm seeing a pattern here....

Happy Easter

Last Wednesday was Activity Day for the 8-11 year-old girls at church.  They made hippety-hoppety cupcakes for their families, and I was pretty proud of Elisabeth's, if I do say so.  They were really yummy, too.  Sometimes I wish I had time to be more creative in this way, but really I'm not detail-oriented enough to pursue the thought of producing something like this.  So I'll just continue being proud of my daughter!

And Purely for Love of Cuteness...

Happy Birthday, Caleb!

How quickly time flies--wait!  I said that last year, too.  I'm not really all that creative in expressing how one day you're holding a tiny, sleeping little baby, and the next you are trying to figure out what happened to that little one.  I really love last year's birthday post (not that I've done any others for the rest of my kids; yes, I have mother guilt over this).

My oldest baby boy turned 9, and had a party to celebrate.  I think fun was had by all.

This last picture was the part where Caleb's friend Tanner told him to blow out the candles ... before we had sung the birthday song or Caleb had made a wish.  Sounds like boys, right?

What We've Been Up To, Part 5

And have I mentioned that for enrichment in the fall, Hannah took some basketweaving classes?  Strange for enrichment, but true.  The thing is, though, that she's fantastically good at it.  Her baskets are sturdy and gorgeous.  I begged for a long time, and so for Christmas she made me a basket.  What a good daughter she is!

I tried to talk her into the pink basket because I liked the bright color, but alas, it was not to be, and so I will settle for the brown one, which though not brightly colored, is bright and beautiful in a prominent spot on my bathroom counter.  I smile to think of Hannah every time I see it!

Thanks also to Hannah for the pics.  She did a much better job than I would have.

What We've Been Up To, Part 4

Also in February, Rex and I went to visit his birth father and grandmother in another metro town.  Usually, they are able to come down this way, but Joan's health has been iffy lately, and she had to miss Rex's birthday party, so we went to see them.  Rex had a grand 2nd (or was it 3rd?) birthday celebration, and got lots of totally cool Star Wars goodies.

Here he is with Joan and Sassy:

And here he is with Josh (who, incidentally, is not usually so ... well, bald).

What We've Been Up To, Part 3

Way back in February, Rex was a tree in the first grade production of The Three Billy Goats Gruff.  He had a much easier and less memorable line than the beleaguered little boy before him who spoke of one of the goats "cwossing the wickety, wackety bwidge."  Nevertheless, Rex was appropriately cast since the trees were quite smart-mouthed throughout the play, and he played his part with gusto.  My friend Danielle pointed out on facebook that I can add "tree hugger" to my mother repertoire.  LOL!

What We've Been Up To, Part 2

The rarely photoed in the wild and ever elusive Hannah-girl has been captured on film.

She went to a birthday party at the new Paul Mitchell training school here.  It took 3 hours and lots of styling product.  Hannah's hair just doesn't curl well; mine didn't either back in the day (you know pre-pregnancy-and-children hormones).  And of course, the girl was practicing so it took a while.  In the end, though, it turned out fabulously, we were all suitably awestruck!  Here's a view of all the curly glory.

Since she was cooperating with the camera, we had to take even more pictures:

What We've Been Up To...

...(stretched out for a few days so it looks like I'm blogging regularly).

Last weekend, we helped build the new playground at the kids' school.  I use the term "we" loosely.  I really mean Caleb and Bob, while the rest of us watched or played on the other playground.  It was a big project, and the install supervisor was pleased that the volunteers got all but a few hours of it done in one day.  Thanks to the OU IBC students and the hardworking dads.

The Things Wives Remember

On this day, 14 years ago, my wonderful husband proposed to me (finally!!!) not far from this place on the beautiful OU campus, and I obviously said, "Well, it's about time."  Okay, I didn't really say that.  I said, "Yes!!!" (be still, my beating heart!) but it really was about time.  I don't remember what I was wearing, but I remember he was wearing those slacks that looked so dang good, and that it was moonlight and much warmer than it is here today, and that there were flowers everywhere (but when are there not flowers everywhere on campus?).  It's one of the reasons that I love spring in Oklahoma so much.

And then we tried to kill off our parents--and especially mine--by getting married within about 8 weeks.  In retrospect, that might have been a bit mean.  But it's a little late to do anything about it now.

Meanwhile, I am so grateful for Bob.  We've had our share of ups and downs, and given that I'm still a hormonal basket case, I'm sure there will be more ups and downs in the future.  But I'm so proud that we have pushed through the hard times we've had, and come out stronger for them.  And having spent some time around some other husbands recently, I'm so grateful that my husband is loving and respectful and kind and that I can trust him to do the right things.  We don't always agree on what the right things are, but I always know that he's trying his best, and I know that he'll be there for me whenever I follow after my crazy schemes.  In short, he's amazing, and I love, love, love him!

I Am an Ent

I've been thinking about my dad this evening.

When I was growing up, it always infuriated me that he so rarely lost his cool in front of us.  I could egg him on ... or more accurately, try to egg him on ... but his best trick was to never let his ruffled feathers show.  And when they did show, I was terrified.  Not that he ever did anything bad when his feathers got ruffled.  But I knew that he must be really mad to let it show.

Now, I'm grateful that he taught me this little trick via example.  In employing it, I've learned that there's no better way to get somebody's goat.  When someone wants you to get upset, the best way to knock the wind out of their sails is to not let them have any wind by failing to respond to their goading.

I used to think stubbornly and silently holding one's ground without fighting or arguing back was the equivalent of being a pansy.  I don't think so anymore.  Especially when I rephrase to steadfastly holding one's ground in spite of the opposition.  I like to think of the ents in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and how they survived the floods and the storms by planting their roots and bracing themselves through the storm.  They didn't try to change the floods.  They withstood them.

I'm going to work on employing this tactic more over the coming month.  Anyone care to guess what I'm talking about?

Because it ain't the 9th month of this pregnancy that I'm referring to.

BFFs

From Rex's belated birthday party at the end of January.  That's Zach.  If you have to ask who Zach is, you need to get all caught up on our lives.  Okay, I won't be so mean.  Zach and Rex are like BFFs.  Good times.

Daddy Daughter Dance

They were so thrilled for me to take their picture.

And Sariah refused to be held.

They make a good lookin' bunch.

I'm pretty proud of them.

Mixed Feelings

This week is the biannual local consignment sale.  I spent a bundle.  I usually do.  I've been shopping it for 10 years.  I needed some good stuff this year, since I gave away a bunch of my baby stuff.  I got a cool baby bath and a bassinet and lots of fun clothes for all of the kids, including an especially sweet dress for Sariah that didn't cost me very much at all.  I was proud.

Of course, so are some of these consignors.  It really annoys me that many things at the sale are priced so high.  Dude, I could buy new clothes for those prices, not already-used stuff.  And I'm not talking about Wally World clothes either.  It's a consignment sale, not a professional antiques market, darn it.  Yeah, you wanna make money, but this isn't going to make you or break you.

Okay, I'm done venting now.  :)

It's All about Bob!

Today is my honey's birthday.  So I'm going to post 38 reasons to love him.

1. He loves me.
2. He does the laundry.
3. He does the dishes.
4. He can always tell me where a passage of scripture is (I can remember the scripture but never where it is).
5. He spoils our toddler rotten.
6. He lets me take naps.
7. He loves me even when I'm a scary, messed-up depressed person.
8. He likes to laugh with me.
9. He writes me cute post-it notes that make our kids make gaggy faces.
10. He has leg muscles that I envy.
11. He has more grey hair than I do.
12. He wrestles with our dogs and tells them he loves them.
13. My kids say things like, "You want to be married to him?" and I can say, "Well, yeah, duh."
14. He supports my hare-brained ideas.
15. He takes the girls to daddy-daughter dances and dances with them.
16. He plays basketball and catch with the boys.
17. He thinks up totally wicked punishment for ill-behaved children.
18. He loves me when I look like a bowling ball.
19. He steals my Oreos.  But he doesn't like chocolate.  I just like the contradiction.  The fact that he doesn't like chocolate is sick and weird and indicates a need for professional help.
20. He never lets me win face-licking competitions.  Although he might let me think I won.
21. He loves the gospel of Jesus Christ.
22. He will make any sacrifice to support our family.
23. He takes food off my plate whenever he feels like it.  That means he's brave and daring.  Someday I will bite his hand off for doing that.
24. He taught me the true value of flannel sheets.
25. He taught me how to cook.  (Although now I can completely out-class him.  Just sayin'....)
26. He loves me when I'm mad, make very rude faces, and call him a toad.
27. He's obsessed with LED lights.  I don't know why I like this, since I don't like LED lights, but I like it.
28. He gets so happy when he gets new electronic toys to play with.  It's cute!
29. He's let me name all of our children.  Even though he says he named them all.
30. He puts salt on his watermelon.  Eeeeeeew.
31. He loves me even when I spend all of his hard-earned money.
32. He makes me smile every day.
33. He motivates me to reach for higher goals.  Like when he had visited more states than I have.  Now I am inspired to travel more.
34. He calls me cute names, like mosquito, snake, and lioness.
35. He makes fabulous chicken fingers.
36. He holds me at night even though he won't fall asleep doing that.
37. He wants to help the people around him, and looks for ways to do that.
38. He loves me.

Yeah, we're back to that part again.  It takes a great man to love me.

Happy birthday, my love!

Spring, Where Art Thou?

I am so ready for spring to arrive.  It's been a rather bleary winter, and while generally I like rain and snow, I miss my 65-degree sunny days to remind me that I really do live in Oklahoma.  Plus, I don't like my long-sleeved maternity shirts.  I like the short-sleeved ones better.  I should get to wear them more often!

We have had a crazy busy week, culminating in this crazy busy Saturday.  I want to post pictures, but my camera is currently AWOL.

Hannah went to orchestra contest earlier in the week, and an ensemble contest this morning.  Have no idea how she did.  Then, she had a make-up piano lesson.  Music, music, music.

Oh, and we stopped at one of my favorite places, LaBaguette, and one of my other favorite places, the library on the way home.  Sugar, sugar, sugar, and books, books, books.

Had to drop my stuff off at the JBF consignment sale then.  Usually I'm much too lazy to actually get some kid clothes ready to sell, but since I got rid of bunches of my baby stuff before this pregnancy, I actually consigned so I'd have some money to spend at the sale.

Next, it was off to the movies with Caleb.  We told him if he read The Lightning Thief, we would take him to see the new movie.  He read it.  We went.  I think he really liked the movie.  But Bob and I were seriously disappointed with the adaptation.  Did they actually read the book at all?  Because I didn't recognize it.  I was disappointed.  But I did enjoy my date with 2 of my favorite guys.

When we got home, I dolled Sariah all up for a daddy-daughter dance with her sisters.  She was twirling around, singing, "I am sooooo pretty."  Man, I need some self-confidence like that.  Especially now that I'm feeling like a big round bowling ball.

So the moral of all of this is that I'm really exhausted and going to bed to read now.  And I'll probably pray that my boys fall asleep sometime soon.

Ha, fat chance.

Vindication

So, I had a really great laugh last night.  But you're going to need some history to appreciate it.

During The Oklahoma Christmas Blizzard in December, one of the whirlybird thingies on top of our house got ice in it, but didn't completely freeze up.  It still turned, but we could hear it scraping throughout our entire house.  At night, when Bob and I got into bed, it made both of us NUTS.

After the first night of this, Bob comes to me and says somewhat hopefully and somewhat ruefully (because he knew what my reaction would be), "So, I guess climbing up on the roof to knock the ice off that thing isn't really an option?"

I'm sure my reaction was entirely reassuring: "Are you freakin' crazy?!?!?  You know how many layers of ice are up on that roof, and it's incredibly steep!  That would be completely insane!  I can't believe you even thought of it at all without immediately dismissing it."

In hindsight, I understand that he felt compelled to defend himself and his thought processes.  Really, I do.  But when he told me he'd thought of anchoring himself with rope, I rolled my eyes rather violently, sighed quite huffily, laughed hysterically, and stomped off.  Climb the icy roof with rope, indeed!  I was so glad we didn't own enough rope to actually accomplish that.

I happened to mention this to my Mom and Dad when I was talking to them later that afternoon.  I didn't really mention the rope part, because I thought Dad would worry that I'd married some kind of irresponsible freak show.  I didn't feel very vindicated when Dad said something along the lines of, "Well, thinking of it isn't really that horrible as long as you don't put it into action.  I would have thought about it for a long time.  You really do have to look at something from all the angles."

"Well!" thought I.

Not too long after that, I talked to my brother over the phone, and mentioned the laugh I had when my dad came through in defense of my poor berated husband.  And Chad says something like (in a very delighted tone of voice), "Oh man, they have these really cool rope anchoring kits at the hardware store, and that would have been perfect for climbing up there!"

What the...?!?!?  The three men I love and respect the most in my life had completely lost their minds.

Men!

And now I arrive at last night.  I was chatting with a family friend.  Their kids are slightly older than ours, and we really admire them and look up to them.  They have a truly amazing family, and spend a lot of time loving and serving the people around them.  The translation of all of that is that we really respect them, right?

She tells me that during the more recent ice storm, they lost electricity for 36 hours.  When it finally came back on, they wanted to watch TV, but their satellites were frozen.  She goes out that day, and sees her dad (who lives across the street) perched up on a ladder on the side of the house unfreezing his satellite.  She tried to convince him to unfreeze hers, too, but hers is way up on the top of their two-story house.  No dice there.

Later, she sees her husband walking around the house with a big length of rope.  He's going to unfreeze her satellite for her.  She tells him she doesn't need it at the cost of a dead husband.  He unfreezes it anyway, by taking his rope, and having one of his sons anchor him, and going out on the roof via the second story, and getting the job done.

By now, I was laughing so hard.  I came home and told my husband the story, and I'm sorry to say that he felt completely vindicated and that my hideous, hysterical tirade over Christmas was completely out of line because obviously a bunch of men we really respect thought up the same ideas he had and then some of our favorite people actually carried them out.  I was a mean wife, and it was completely inexcusable.  But he kissed me and told me he loved me and tucked me into bed.

I didn't sleep for a long while.

Hmph!  Men!

Spitspot

 

Today's Writing Prompt: Laundry

What do you wish you could throw in a washer with your laundry, knowing it would come out fresh and clean?


My gut reaction to this post was "me."   I remember what it felt like in those first hours, minutes, and weeks after my baptism.  I remember feeling shiny.  However, all is not lost, and this is what repentance and enduring (as in trying to be a better person) and the sacrament on Sunday are for.  So I guess I know what I need to do on this count.

My second reaction was a bit more ... um ... practical.  If I could get away with it, I would throw the walls in my house into the washing machine.  There are little (and  big) fingerprints everywhere, and since the walls are painted flat with no primer, they are impossible to get clean.  It makes me crazy.  We need to paint them, but that's a project in and of itself.  And probably rather expensive, too.  Someday, right?

Oh, the Drama!

Wanting to post something cheerful after a day chock-full of drama.  It wasn't horrible drama.  PTA anyone?  What about 1 predictably unpredictable toddler and 4 grumpy children in trouble for ... integrity issues?  No?  Okay, well I did finish a bunch of laundry and paperwork.  That's a good thing.  I can actually see the top of my desk (in places, lol!).  And despite a bitter wind, the sun was out, so all my serotonin and endorphins are firing happily away.  That's a good thing, too.  Oh, and there's chocolate ice cream in the freezer, and my bed has a heated mattress pad, and I have a book (or twelve) waiting eagerly to be read.

Yeah, it's all good.

Comfy-Cozy

Today's Writing Prompt: Storm

Explain how you feel during a rain or snow storm.


I spent most of my younger years in super sunny southern climes.  The Sonoran Desert taught me to appreciate rain, and Dallas taught me to appreciate a proper winter storm (as opposed to an ice storm).

I love great big downpours of rain.  Although I hated them when I was little, and I still flinch when there are thunder and lightening, electrical storms still make me feel high (or as high as someone who's never been drugged-out high can feel, anyway).

Ice, snow, or rain, I love being inside, comfy-cozy, while a storm rages outside, or softly falls and blankets the world.

But the best part is still when the sun comes out the next morning, and elicits from me a great big stretch and a smile.  That's when I feel warm inside.

How History Affects the Present, and the Future, Too

Just this weekend, I was pondering that I haven't posted anything about tender mercies lately.  Have they not been around, or have I just not noticed them?  (I know, it's a silly question, really.)

And then Sunday rolled around.  After a rough night with the Temper Tantrum Queen (a.k.a. Sariah), Bob took the kids to church, and I caught up my sleep.  When he returned, we ate a quick lunch, and then I took the kids down to Blanchard for the baptism of a friend's daughter while Bob took a nap.

It was a sweet experience for me.  The baptism itself was exceptional, with lots of spirit and goodness.

But the real tender mercy of the whole thing came from another source.  Bob grew up here in Oklahoma, and as a member of our church.  There are so many people who have known him since he was knee-high to a grasshopper, as they say, in and out of the church.  We ran into quite a few of those people yesterday in Blanchard.  The sweet thing is that they clearly have a lot of affection for Bob, and extend it openly and willingly to me--as well as our children--with kindness and lots of heart.

I know many people from way back when I was little, most of them family, with occasional friends thrown in here and there.  But I don't regularly associate, face to face or voice to voice, with anyone who has known me "since the beginning" (excepting my parents and brother, of course).*  I'm sure Bob wishes his old friends wouldn't recall how he wore his ties when he was 12, or recount to our children what sorts of things he blew up as a youth, but there is something so comforting to me in knowing these good, good people who have influenced his life for better (or worse), and who still care so deeply about him and his life, and by extension, me and our beautiful little family.

Truly, it was the best way for Heavenly Father to remind me of His love for us.

* And let's not forget that part of the reason Facebook is so addicting is that it does allow you to reconnect with all the distant corners of your memories.  It may not be face to face or voice to voice, but I so enjoy talking with old friends via Facebook.

Trashy

Today's Writing Prompt: Annoying

What is the most annoying thing you encounter online or in email?

Anything that I haven't invited, including advertisements, and especially inappropriate content and spam. I think the internet and email are amazing tools, but they are littered with trash, trash, and more trash.

A Good Day

I had an extremely busy, highly productive, very expensive, very satisfying day.

We started with  having Rex's pictures made.  He was awesome.  He's the best poser ever.  He was so good, we would have been in and out quickly, but I had to choose from all of his awesome portraits.  It was hard.

Then we got Hannah's new glasses ordered, to be picked up later in the afternoon.  Lizziy got hers earlier in the week.  All of their glasses look awesome.

Then my super-fabulous best friend took me to get a pedicure, and now I have awesome blue toenails and nice relaxes feet and lower legs.  Cool!  Thanks, T!

Then I got my Valentine's Day present from Bob: a new iPhone.  It was dreadful really, the circumstances.  Hannah's phone got stolen, so I sacrificed my current phone for her to have one, and agreed to replace my phone.  Aren't I an awesome mom?  She has a new phone number, btw, so if you want it you'll have to ask me for it (and have a criminal background check done).

And then I was really tired and worn out from such an exciting day.

And then my honey brought me home a peanut butter hot fudge sundae made with peanut butter cup ice cream from Braum's.  Really, what more can you ask for in a day?

It was awesome and fabulous.  And yes, I like those two words a lot.