Christmas Vacation

One thing I've learned over Christmas vacation so far:

If you ask your daughter to clean her room, she will practice her cello.  Even though she hasn't actually bothered with practicing the entire school year.

Query: if I ask her to practice her cello, will she clean her bedroom?

I can be flexible, you know.  :)

We Interrupt the Season...

I know it's the holiday season, and I should be posting fabulous uplifting posts and be of good cheer, and whatever....  But I just need to take a minute to implore the powers that be for ... whatever it is that I need.

For those of you who know me well, and worry about me, this is NOT a full-blown meltdown.  More like a mini-meltdown.  Kind of like Christ in the Garden at Gethsemane when He asked His Father for this cup to pass from Him, but then He still got up off of His knees and pressed forward and did what He had to do.  That's what I'm going to do, too.

But this is the part where I whine and complain.  Not that Christ was actually whining and complaining.  But this is the part where I am less perfect than He, and I whine and complain.

Yesterday was an ... um ... adrenaline-filled day for me.  Lizziy went to the surgery center to get her tonsils and adenoids out.  After he performed the operation, the surgeon told us that we had absolutely done the right thing, that her tonsils had tonsil stones (something I'd never heard of until then, but what amounts to large amounts of nasty dead cells and bacteria and all sorts of ickiness in her tonsils that needed to move on out), that her adenoids were interfering with her breathing, and that the surgery should much improve the quality of her breathing, her sleeping, and life in general.  A good thing, even though it's nervewracking to put one of your babies under general anesthesisa and the knife, even if you've done versions of that to all of your other children, too.

Meanwhile, when she's in recovery, coming out from the anesthesia, the nurse is telling me they expect Lizziy will probably vomit, and the kid in the bed next to her starts puking, and my pregnant tummy just can't take it, I send Bob in to be with her.  Good plan, right?  He's always the one who handles the vomiting at home, and he's really good at it.  He'll even help me handle my vomiting, which I think it the epitome of true love.  Anyway, the next thing I know, he's passing out?  Having a seizure?  SOMETHING, on the floor unconscious.  He'll probably be furious at me for posting this, but you know what?  It was freakin' scary, to see my chosen love for life lying there and not knowing what was wrong with him.  And having a bunch of nurses and doctors there that weren't sure either.  That part wasn't terribly reassuring.  And one of my babies meanwhile lying in another room disoriented and nauseous and in pain.

So Bob comes back around, and they decide it was just the talk about blood.  Why do people pass out about blood anyway?  But I digress....  While he's getting his color back, and being babied by the nurses, with his feet up, Lizziy throws up in true Lizziy fashion, while the old man across the room starts hurling, I mean really hurling.  And of course, I'm standing there, pregnant tummy under control through sheer will power alone.

We all go home, pick up Sariah from my fabulous visiting teacher's house.  Lizziy is the model patient.  She was doing what she was asked, eating, drinking, resting, and not whining or complaining (unlike her dear old mother).  But Sariah just didn't get it.  She didn't get that Lizziy was tired and sick.  She knew something was wrong ... but I think what she understood was that she, Sariah, was suddenly not the center of her parents' universe, and it had something to do with Lizziy.  We'd all gotten up early, I'd had the scare of a lifetime, and now we have a cranky, righteously indignant 2 year old.

Rest will cure this.  Not.  We go to bed with a 10 year old daughter with a carved up throat in our bed.  Not a big deal, except now I can't flip around restlessly anymore like I usually do because I'm not supposed to be sleeping on my back because of the pregnancy.  And I have a toddler being potty-trained at night.  And an obnoxious greyhound with nighttime bladder control issues.  And hips that hurt because my sciatic nerve has decided to kick in.

So this morning, everybody expects me to be SuperMom still.  Or to clarify, they still expect me to be the SuperMom that they're always complaining I'm not.  I'm tired.  I'm grumpy.  I'm queasy all the flippin' time, even though I should be about 10 weeks past that.  I'm worrying.  I'm scared.  I'm bordering on emotional and mental exhaustion.  And today I'm supposed to balance my checkbook and pay the bills, buy groceries, go get Rex's birth family for a visit, finish getting ready for the holidays, take my oldest daughter shopping, do more laundry and more dishes, prepare a lesson for the primary class I'm supposed to sub in tomorrow, mop my floors, buy more ice cream, and be a happy, loving, supportive, always-there-and-always available mother and wife.

I'd rather go curl up in a corner and cry my little eyes out.

And where, oh where, I ask you, am I supposed to find time to facebook?!  This is the worst indignity of all, I think.

See?  I told you I'd get up off my knees and press forward.  That's what moms do, right?  They keep going because God will eventually give them a fresh energizer battery.  So.  I'm off to conquer the world.  :)

Christmas Party

Bob happened to catch some fabulous picture of two of my favorite girls at the ward Christmas party this past weekend.   They're gorgeous.  But I already knew that.  Now you do, too.

Happy Birthday, Jacob!

On Saturday, we went to cousin Jacob's 6th birthday party.  We haven't been able to see him in awhile, so this was lots of fun.  His favorite song right now is "Big Green Tractor" by Jason Aldean, but he wouldn't sing it for me, even when I sang it for him in my scratchy voice.

Grandpa Haynes was there, and he even elicited and ever-rare Hannah-picture-sighting.

Cindy

Gabby

Elizabeth (the other Elisabeth)

or maybe this is Gabby, I'm really not sure!

And Hannah (whom I sometimes call Hannah-belle, incidentally),

holding Annabelle.

The Magic Word

We have been trying to teach Sariah manners of late.  It's working.  Sort of.

Her favorite thing to do is to make demands.  My favorite response is to say, "Ask me nicely."  And she always replies, with the most intense and sweetest smile you've ever seen, "Nicely."

We've learned the magic word ("Please"), and she uses it, but she's also learned the art of charm, apparently.

The Big Day

Friday was the Big Day. We'd gone back and forth several times about whether to find out the baby's gender, but finally decided to go through with it. It was so much fun having Hannah be a surprise, but I really wanted to paint Sariah and Baby's room appropriately. So off Bob, Sariah, and I trekked to the ultrasound office.  We found out.

We wanted to tell the older kids all at once, and we wanted to do it memorably.  Apparently it's all the rage right now to have a little pseudo-shower with a mystery cake and everybody's finds out all together what the baby is.  But I'm not cut out for that kind of surprise.  So here's what we did, just for our kids:

When all of the kids were home from school, we told them they had to make a guess. They guessed boy all the way around, but only because we told them if they didn't guess they'd have to clean the garage. They really don't like the possibility of being wrong.

I don't know where on earth they get that from, but none of them were wrong.

At the doctor's office, we asked Sariah what it was. She said a boy. She's varied from boy to girl for awhile, but she has always claimed we were having a baby "brudder." After she confidently proclaimed that it was a boy, the sonographer said, "Well, I don't even know why we're doing this. They're always right." And then she told us it was a boy.

Now you know. He appears to be healthy and doing all the things he should be doing, and his due date of April 12-13 was reconfirmed for the 3rd time--just remember that my babies never come on time unless they are forcibly evicted. There is an issue of low amniotic fluid. Apparently I need to drink more water and eat more protein, and have another ultrasound in a month.

After my efforts in that direction this weekend, I told Bob, "I feel like all I do is drink and pee." He told me I might consider rephrasing that, or I'd be visiting my bishop soon enough. Ha ha.

Help in the Kitchen

Thanksgiving at our house was good this year.

How could it not be with this kind of help in the kitchen?

Hmmmm....

Somehow I don't recall taking 44 pictures commemorating my messy office.

Just sayin'.

Falling

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Today's Writing Prompt: Fall

This autumn, what do you wish would fall?


(What the heck kind of question is this, anyway?)


This autumn, what I wish would fall is my level of involvement in the PTA.

Dances from around the World

Tuesday night was the 3rd Grade Program: Dances from around the World.  It was quite the production, and I was very proud of my Zulu Warrior.  His part was very active, as I think the pictures will prove.

If you want to know what it meant to be a Zulu Warrior, you should probably ask Caleb.  He can tell you a bunch of the South African saga.  In any case, this particular dance involved lots of stomping and moving around.  It was my favorite dance.

However, I also really liked the Russian mixer dance at the end.  Many of you will know that a little piece of my heart belongs to Russia since I traveled there as a youth.  But this dance was awesome--it's the kind of dance that goes faster and faster, and you have to switch partners, and you get to jump in the air.  It looked like the kids were having a ball.  Plus, the picture will show you that the program covered a wide variety of cultures.  It was pretty cool.

Here We Go Again

I don't know if Lizziy will appreciate me posting this picture, but it's the most recent one I could find.  And it's not my fault she's onery.  ;)

Took her to the ENT yesterday--that's the Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor for the uninitiated.   In case you're wondering, we're very initiated.  Between ear tubes and tonsillectomies, every kid but Lizziy has been operated on.

Until now.  Yep, she's getting her tonsils out.  And mean mom that I am, we're doing it the Friday before Christmas vacation.  The hope is that she'll feel better, be healthier, and most importantly, sleep better, which might bring about that miraculous change in attitude we've been looking for.  Don't get me wrong here--Lizziy is fabulous and amazing, but when you can't get a decent night's sleep no matter how early you go to bed, are you really the happiest camper on the block?

Keep your fingers crossed for us!

Motivation

Monday, November 16, 2009

Today' Writing Prompt: Monday

What is the best thing about Mondays?


I don't know if I'm an odd little duck for this or not, but when I wake up on Monday mornings, I usually feel ready to take on the world.  Some days the feeling fades faster than others, but I really like the Mondays when I can take off and conquer my own personal mountains.

A Better Day

I had a rough morning today. My 10 year old daughter who ought to know better threw a 45 minute tantrum that involved screaming, shouting, punching one of her brothers, and trying to headbutt her pregnant mother's belly. I was about ready to pull my hair out, and probably hers, too.

But I finally got her and her friend (the elementary school Monday morning orchestra crew) and the boys off to school. And then I got the middle school orchestra brigade delivered.

When I got home I found this note on my desk written in bright red Sharpie (oh, my son knows the ways to my heart). It made my whole entire day.

For one thing, this a huge amount of progress for my son, who sometimes expresses his stress and frustration (which he probably had a lot of this morning) in ways not that much different than his sister did.

For another thing, I'm pretty sure he wrote this while he was checking his email. We set up his email a week or two ago so that he can work on some of his literacy/reading comprehension skills by emailing friends and family. He really loves to get email. And again, for him to ask for email instead of crying about it, this is real progress.

And for the last thing, this was just what I needed this morning. What a lucky mom I am!

Today I'm Thankful That...

• My husband is still employed.
• My children have good teachers.
• Sariah is feeling much better.
• Jonah's leg is healing.

Sigh of Relief

Football season is over.  Can you hear that huge sigh of relief?  I have loved watching Caleb play, and seeing his team (finally) come together.  But three practices and a game a week is enough to kill anyone.  He says he's not playing next year.  Rex says he is.  We shall see....

Ugh.

Sariah is on antibiotics again.  She has an ear infection (which I suspected) and bronchitis (which I did not anticipate ... even though she sounds awful).  Hopefully, we can get her feeling better, and she'll start sleeping through the night again.  Oh that will be a blessed day ... er, night.  She really hasn't been a happy camper.  And therefore, neither has anyone else.

Busy, Busy

We've had busy times lately.  A youth temple trip one day; a temple night the next day.  A Scentsy party on Saturday--mmmhmmm, I love that stuff.  Dinner with good friends.  A football playoff game (yay! the season's almost over).  Church, including the annual primary program.  A sick baby.  PTA stuff--just when you think it's going to die down, it starts up all over again.

I think the football game was the most exciting part of our weekend.  We had to drive all the way out to Prague, which is over an hour away, for Caleb's first playoff game.  It was also his first game starting off as quarterback.  He did a pretty good job.  They finished the first quarter with a score of 0-0, which I have to say is unprecedented.   Usually by the end of the first quarter, the score is 24-0, and not in favor of us.  The game wasn't a complete shut-out either--we got a touchdown!!  These boys have come such a long way from the beginning of their season.  They're starting to come together and get it right.  In any case, I think they had much more fun than they've had in the past.  They were still really psyched when the game is over, so I 'm going to count that as a win.

On the agenda this week, fewer football practices, a visit to the doctor for Sariah's hurting ear, less facebooking and more blogging....

My Boys

Sometimes I forget to appreciate each of them and how wonderful they are.  For example, Caleb never forgets to give me a hug and a kiss, even on a really bad day (for either one of us).  And Rex's zest for life never dims (even when Mom's a grump).  They're pretty cool kids.  I am blessed.

Halloween 09

Halloween was an interesting affair around here this year.

First of all, we trick-or-treated on Friday night. Not just our family. The entire city. Because of the OU football game on Saturday night. We were keeping our kids "safe." (Or the taboo version: nobody wants to hand out candy during the game).

Second of all, I was sick with strep throat. Not contagious anymore. But I sure didn't feel good, and Bob was still out of town. So a bunch of our plans got smashed.

I ended up sending the older kids over to our old neighborhood with our former neighbor and still-thank-goodness-friends. I have no pictures of them, but they had a grand time and that's what counts. Hannah was a black bride (complete with black veil and flowers); Lizziy, I think, was a witch of one sort or another; and Caleb was a football player (you could argue that his costume was cheap, unless you take into account the cost of playing a season of football, and then it was most expensive of all).

My two littles--one of whom doesn't appreciate being called that anymore--I took around our new neighborhood.

Rex was Darth Vader.  He was pretty scary, according to his little sister.  He was a bad guy, according to Sariah.  "Oooooh, scawy!"

Sariah, on the other hand, was a "pwitty buttewfwy."  It's a good thing she's little and all she needed to complete that illusion was the set of wings.  I thought I had another costume for her, but I didn't.  So I told her she was a beautiful butterfly with wings and beautiful butterfly barettes.  She was happy.

We went out with Bob's sister Jennifer, her little girl Cindy, and his other sister's (Angie) little boy Andrew. Good times!

Sweet Sariah

All sweetness and light, right?

On Sunday, during family home evening, I was jokingly informing Bob that he needed to repent of being mean to me.  To egg things on, I told Sariah to say, "Repent, Dad, repent!"  (Let's not go into my parenting/spousing techniques at this time.)  She obediently did so, and the next thing we know, she's preaching hellfire and brimstone: "Reeeepeeeeent!  Reeeeepeeeent!" she's yelling in this horrible scary harsh and raspy voice.  Don't mess with the preacher woman.  I'm just sayin'.