sugar overload

I have a ton to catch up on but I'm tired, so let's get it over with quickly. 

Logan turned 11 yesterday. Whoa what?! He wanted a ninja party with night games. We invited a bunch of boys to a fenced in park with a lot of play equipment, fed them pizza and cake, and then let them play hide and seek and capture the flag in the dark. Then we threw everything in the trash can, sent the boys back with their parents, and went home. No one got majorly hurt, so I'm calling it a grand success. Happy birthday Logan! We love you and feel extremely blessed to have such a sensitive and caring young man in our family. 

........................

Next up: the ward Halloween party. 

This year I told the kids that I wasn't buying Halloween costumes. They are expensive and they sit around in a box, unused and unworn, for the rest of my life. Instead, they were supposed to come up with their own costumes, and if they needed something that was reusable to go with their costume I would be more than happy to buy it. There was a little bit of complaining, but in the end I think they all felt some ownership for their ideas/costumes. 

This is what they came up with: 

Hermione from Harry Potter 

(She wore her brother's church shirt, her dad's tie, my graduation robe, and we bought black shoes and tights)

The Hulk (a costume we already had) 

Ninja Logan 

(I bought him a dry weave long sleeve shirt that looks very tight to me but he likes it because he can visibly ripple his muscles through it)

I was going to make him use a black shirt over his head but found this at the Dollar Store. 

Corporal Grant 

(Loves camo; bought him long pants; hat from the Dollar Store) 

And thus commences a season of way, way too much sugar. 

Happy Holidays and Brush Well!!

when Ammon is a dad

This morning I pleaded with Ammon to stay three forever. Nope. He wants to be a dad, he says. I guess that's acceptable. When I asked him why he wanted to be a dad he immediately replied, "So I can make money and buy things."  

The rest of the morning he randomly listed off reasons why he wants to be a dad. They include:

*he won't spill things anymore

*he won't break flashlights anymore (this has become a problem at our house)

*he can drive a car

*he can buy pop whenever he wants

*he can give pop to his kids

*he can put Madison, Logan, and Grant on the naughty floor

*he can get packages in the mail 

I feel positive that some of these things might happen when he's a dad. 

the scoop

I am officially 11 weeks pregnant today. And because I know many of you are wondering (and a few have asked)--yes. We absolutely wanted this baby. That doesn't mean I'm not scared--I'm terrified. But we are very excited to invite another spirit into our home. And I feel giddy when I think of all the family get togethers that await me 20 years from now. 

We kept the pregnancy very quiet--partly because I savor the secret, and partly because after my miscarriage in April I felt terrified of it happening again. My first ob appointment was yesterday (I didn't even call the doctor until I got past the point I was in April when I miscarried, and I got a lecture for it, too). We wanted to take an announcement picture on Sunday because we all looked nice for church, and because I knew that once I got a good report that I would want to celebrate with family and friends. 

Of course, that meant we had to explain to the kids why we wanted them to line up by birth order. Joe said, "Say what number of kid you are." Then when he got to me he asked me what number I was. "Five!" The kids were so confused, saying things like, "Mom's not a kid!" Finally, they got it, and started asking a million questions about gender and names and dates and what it feels like. Basically, I'm going to be answering a lot of questions over the next 6 months!

Also, Madison likes to touch my belly and talk to the baby, and it takes a lot of willpower to not push her away and say, "stop touching me!!!" ...I try to do/say it nicely....

Anyway, Sunday evening we sent the picture to our families and made some phone calls. I'm glad we did, because it was nice having that support and knowing that there were a few people who knew I was going to the dr--which meant if something went wrong, I had people to confide in--whereas last time I did not tell anyone until after it happened, and when you go through something like that you need support! 

Joe still claims it would be fun to keep it a secret the entire 9 months and then post a picture of the baby, but he's not the one getting big and fat (can't keep that a secret!), and besides that, these next 6 1/2 months I am going to celebrate with anyone who will celebrate with me!!

I confided in Ammon shortly after we found out we were expecting. He's three, and surely had no idea what mommy was talking about when she said she had a baby in her tummy. 

Wrong. A friend took him to the park one day shortly after I had pulled a muscle in my ribs and could hardly move. She told me a few days later that  Ammon had "spilled the beans." I guess the lesson is to never trust a 3 year old with secrets. 

Obviously, my doctor's appointment went well. There is a baby and a heartbeat! The baby was dancing around the entire time, and if you look closely you can see the profile with a little tiny nose. 

The other question I have been asked is whether or not I want a boy or a girl. And the answer surprises me--I really don't care. I wanted another girl for so long, but now I know boys, and it's kind of special to just have my Madi. I admit that girls' hair bows and dresses are adorable, though. I am leaving it up to my Heavenly Father; He knows what our family needs, and whatever we get is what I want. 

It's kind of crazy to think that if I hadn't miscarried that I would be having a baby in a few weeks. I thought that the holidays would be a sad reminder that we didn't have that baby, but again--I know it was part of the plan, and I look forward to this life that will join us in May instead. Also, I'm probably a lot more comfortable right now than I would be otherwise (though it's only delayed)!

Every pregnancy has been different for me. I don't get very sick, thank goodness. I have thrown up a total of 3 times with 6 pregnancies (knock on wood). With Logan I felt sick with smells or disgusting visuals (once when we were on a walk Joe spit on the ground and I started gagging). With Madison I gagged everytime I brushed my teeth. This time I feel pretty good, but when dinnertime and evening come around, I feel awful! I don't throw up, but I think if I did I would feel better! I wonder if it's just because I'm tired in the evening. To combat it, I just go to bed, and Joe has been so good to get the kids to bed by himself most nights. I am able to fall asleep quickly, fortunately, but unfortunately, I wake up around 3-4 every morning and am unable to go back to sleep. By the time I get everyone off to school I am beat! I'm not complaining, though. This is part of the experience, and especially because I'm 99.99% sure this is the last time I will have this experience, I am going to savor it. Every minute! 

reason #7 why we just can't wait to move!

ETA: May 12, 2015

Countdown

October 16; 8 days until Logan turns 11, 15 days until Halloween. Joe's birthday. Thanksgiving. Christmas. New Year's. Moving Day. 

Fall is my favorite, but it's busy. 

The kids have been reminding me--often--that we haven't put up our Halloween decorations. I've been putting it off, mainly because holiday decorating isn't as fun as it was when it was a new thing for me (let's say around 11 years ago when Logan was born). Also, I keep thinking about how I will decorate the new house, and that translates into ingratitude for what I have now, and therefore a lesser desire to clean/decorate/enjoy. 

But I love my kids and I want to be more grateful, so Ammon and I pulled out our decorations and bought some spider webbing from Target's dollar spot. We got to work while we watched Monsters Inc.

First of all, a bag of that spider webbing expands as you start to pull it apart. It goes a long way..... Also, it sticks to stuff and it might not be so easy to get off in 16 days. 

We just decorated a few areas in the living room. Maybe next year we'll do more... In our new house... But I'm trying not to focus on that, remember?

The black things are tiny mice. 

Something still isn't quite right with this area, but I gave up on it. The kids won't care. 

I would like to find a black rose and a black plate--next year?

Overall, I think the kids will be surprised and pleased when they get home from school. 

On a different note--I have been a BYU-Idaho ambassador for the last 7 years. Technically, I was supposed to be talking to the youth in our stake and ward about BYU-I and helping them apply, register, answer questions, etc. I haven't really been doing it, so this year when they sent out the renewal papers I declined. But our favorite babysitter (the one that knows where everything is and what you expect and how to get the kids in bed and actually plays with your kids) asked me a few weeks ago if I would help her figure out what classes she needed to take and how to register, etc. It has been a long time since I've been in college (again, that 11 year number!), but of course I said yes, and felt that it was quite a compliment to be asked. Today she came over and we looked at classes and campus maps and figured out how to navigate through the college's online website. It was enjoyable to talk to her as an adult, and crazy to think that in few short years--8?!--I will be doing this with my own children. We will miss her as our babysitter, but I know she is headed towards good things. 

I suppose that today has been a day of counting down, and realizing that it goes by much faster than anticipated. So put up your decorations, play with your babies, come what may and love it.  Also, don't wait until single didget days to rush your son to complete his Webelos requirements. Oops. 

getting cool and staying warm

Today it finally feels like Fall--hooray! The temperature hasn't been above 60 degrees all day and we are wearing long pants and long sleeves and it's marvelous! 

Logan made everyone hot chocolate before I got up and then I made pumpkin pancakes for breakfast. Joe has been out of town a lot and I haven't been feeling well (sinus and respiratory infection) and the house has kind of gotten out of control. I am starting to feel better, finally, so I had my crazy moment and started cleaning the house like a madwoman. I am kind of ready to pack up everything I can and get rid of everything I don't love--but for now I am just trying to tidy up. It just so happens that this weather puts me in the mood to clean, so that's convenient. 

Speaking of packing, I was searching for some family fun today and a friend who lives in our future neighborhood sent me a message that there was a fall festival going on in our neighborhood. Since we are basically residents, we decided to go. 

First we drove by our house.

Yay! Progress!!

On to the festival. 

There was a petting zoo. Ammon and Grant didn't kill any animals, but there was some squeezing, chirping alarms, and a few droppings. Not poop droppings. Animal droppings. 

Logan rode his own horse but had already gotten off when they (the people in charge) realized all four kids were mine. They told Logan to get on with Grant and then pulled them all together (sort of) so I could get a picture. I have to admit, this made me giddy happy because it felt like they cared about us--and we've never met! Good business tactic because I picked up a brochure and will definitely check them out. 

We ate complimentary popcorn and cotton candy while we waited in line for a train ride. 

Train ride! Squish! 

While we were there, I checked out one of the neighborhood clubhouses. There is a weight room, classroom (for things like yoga and even a sewing class!) and a playroom for kids. Then we walked to our builder's model home so that the kids could see what our house will kind of sort of look like. We drove around our neighborhood to check out all the pools and walking trails.

Overall, the day has confirmed that we made a good choice. It is not easy for me to make decisions, and this is one that I have gone back and forth about even after we made it because it isn't the farm property/home I had been dreaming about, and we are not a single bit closer to Joe's work. In fact, a few minutes the opposite. 

But I loved the neighborhood event today, and my friend says they have them often. A high school is being built less than a mile from our home, and I am excited that the kids will be able to ride their bikes to and from school and all of their activities. Our home is going to be big and beautiful, and we are going to fill it with beautiful children and beautiful memories.

This feeling I feel? Content. 

number three

If there is one child I have felt consistently sorry for, it is Grant. A while back (maybe before you knew me) I wrote this blog about being/having the third child.

We are all different from each other, of course, and Grant is unique from each of my other children. I wonder how much of that is how my parenting has changed by child 3, and how much of it is simply Grant. For example, he knew his letters later than my other kids (well, except Ammon, of course), but learned how to read more quickly. In first grade, Logan was my perfectionist (he still is), taking hours to finish his homework and erasing every letter that didn't match his expectation. Madison procrastinated everything (and still does). Grant, on the other hand, is extremely proficient with time. His motivation is to HAVE FUN when the work is done. He sloppily races through his homework and reading and chores in order to play outside or to get on the computer. He generally does it all without complaint. 

The first few days of school I noticed that he was making a lot of silly errors on his papers that were sent home. I discovered he simply wasn't reading the directions! He was in too much of a hurry to get done. We have really been working on taking the time to read the directions, and he is doing much better.

On Monday he came home with a 4 page homework packet. I asked him to work on it in the van while we took Logan to tae kwon do. He finished it in 5 minutes. He got one question wrong and left one question incomplete. I wasn't worried about it because I thought we had plenty of time.

This morning I wanted to go over his spelling words with him before his pre-spelling test (see, the other kids we would be going over the words all week, but Grant gets a rush-through on Thursday morning), but I couldn't find his homework packet. I got onto him about being responsible and told him he needed to ask his teacher for a new packet. He complained that he already did his homework and didn't want to do it again. We are working on being more assertive (when I ask him to turn in his fixed papers he says his teacher won't let him talk), so being the interfering mom, I emailed his teacher, explained the situation, and asked her if he could have a new homework packet. She wrote back and said he turned it in on Tuesday. HAH! No wonder we couldn't find it. He got a 100% on his test without going over the words, too. I guess I'm liking this third child less-stress thing. Not only is it easier on me, but Grant actually seems to be excelling with this type of lax-parenting. 

My final thought about Grant for the evening: he is full of surprises. Last week I caught him drinking out of the honey bottle. Drinking honey!! And tonight I found him eating chopped green onions by the handful. When I explained they were for our dinner tonight he asked me if I would save some for him to take for lunch tomorrow.

39 unplanned freezer meals

Someone left the deep freezer door open.

I'm telling myself it doesn't matter who did it because it doesn't change a thing. But it did make me think about how somehow it seems like it might make us (me) feel better to have someone to blame; someone to take the angry feelings out on.

Ain't nobody got time for that!

Instead I took my angry feelings out by cooking the thawed (but still cool) food that was in the freezer.

All the ice cream, frozen veggies, and random odds and foods got thrown into a giant, heavy-duty, black garbage bag.

The turkey was given away (I just couldn't do force myself to make it).

And I cooked up about:

25 pounds of ground beef
4 roasts
lots of chicken
10 pork chops
8 steaks

I also made about 8 batches of jam and pureed fruit for several more future batches (ran out of pectin).

Ok, it doesn't sound like that much when I write it out, but for an unwanted evening (and next day) of cooking, cleaning, and disinfecting--it feels like A LOT.

Logan made everyone PB&J sandwiches for dinner (that they ate upstairs while they watched Gilligan's Island. I think they were scared to come down.) I called my mom and dad about every 30 minutes to ask their opinion about what I should do. (With 5 kids, they've done this a few times themselves.) The entire time I was telling myself that I should be more like Grandma Goss and focus on the good--the opportunity before me.

1. My freezer is clean. Clean I tell you!!
2. My children are A-Mazing. They saw my distress (and were probably a little bit scared), so they cleaned and vacuumed the house. Logan and Grant helped to carry everything into the kitchen, and then Logan cleaned out the fridge so that there was room to stick the food I wasn't cooking at the moment. He also wiped down the freezer--all that melted ice cream and other nasty fluids that had pooled at the bottom.
3. Seriously, if I hadn't gone out there when I did, everything would have been lost.
4. If we had lost every thing, it would have stunk. Big time. But financially, we could have absorbed the loss without needing to really stress about it.
5. I know how to preserve food, and I have the equipment to do so.
6.  I now have 39 cooked, or at least easy-to-make meals, including: lots of cooked ground beef, BBQ pulled pork, sweet and sour pork, teriyaki chicken. Also, many jars of marinated pork loin roasts, beef stew meat, and chicken with broth.

I left a few pounds of beef in fridge for Joe to make some of his delicious hamburger patties. I have some chicken thighs cooking in the crockpot and some dishes piled up in the sink. Other than that, we're just about done. The floors were disinfected last night--thanks to Joe, who was hoping to spend the evening finishing up some of his work but came home to help.

I'm tired.

fraud

I have a new song stuck in my head... "I am a fraud. A big, fat fraud."

I felt this way when the crazy nurses let me bring a six pound baby Logan home from the hospital.

I felt this way when Logan started kindergarten.

And I feel this way now that Logan and Madison are entering their tween years. 

During the day I pretend I am a mother of small children. When 4:00 p.m. rolls around I am a mother of children who need to wear deodorant. Children who don't need me to help with their homework anymore--well, I don't have to sit down with them, anyway. Children who are figuring out how to navigate through their school-issued computers and the Internet...maybe better than I can. Children who can be so incredibly helpful and kind one minute, and angry and door-slamming the next. 

So I'm going to keep on playing house. Sure--I've got this! No problem!  I'll keep feeding them and taking them places. I'll listen to them talk, and then I'll pretend to have valuable advice. One of these days I might actually know what I'm doing. 

Lucky Ammon. 

oh what a night!

The school the kids have been attending for the last 3 years was closed in June, which meant the kids had to go to a new school. We were really hoping that their move to a new school would coincide with our move to the new house, but it was not to be. So instead we applied to the new STEM school (science, technology, engineering, and math). All three of them got in, which is great. The only problem is the 40 minute bus ride, which I can't really complain too much about because my bus ride was an hour long (to and from school) when I lived in Pennsylvania, and I guess I survived ok.

I often find myself wondering how my parents kept their sanity with all five of us in school with homework and way too many extra curricular activities. Both parents worked full-time jobs, had big callings at church, and still managed to make whole-wheat homemade bread from scratch each week. I'm struggling to keep up with the 3 I have in school, with homework and reading every night and activities like scouts, activity days, tae kwon do, and piano lessons. But I'm trying not to have too big of a pity party because holy moly I know it's going to get worse! I do have to remind myself that my parents were both teachers and they got home around the same time that we got home from school, so there were TWO of them to get dinner on the table and everyone to their responsibilities, and I am trying to do it all alone, as Joe doesn't get home until 7:00 p.m. most nights. 

Anyway. So Mondays are crazy because the kids get off of the bus at 4:09 and Logan has tae kwon do at 4:30. So as soon as they walk in the door it's a mad rush to get everyone to use the bathroom (because some of my children refuse to go at school, which I also can't complain too much about because I did the same thing), get a snack, send Logan to do a 30 second clothing change, and to holler at everyone to get into the van. Ammon went down for his nap kind of late this afternoon, so he was still asleep when the kids got home. Logan woke him up and told him to get into the van.

Finally, at 4:26, we are on our way to tae kwon do. We manage somehow to miraculously make all of the lights, there is little traffic, and we are only 1 minute late. I drop Logan off and take the kids to the park. When we get out of the van I notice that Ammon has ONE flip flop. Awesome. Well, I'm not going home, so I gather my confidence and tell him to go play. Grant and I find a shady picnic table and alternate homework pages with 5 minutes at a time to climb or swing.

I notice my phone buzzing but don't recognize the phone number. I answer anyway. It's Logan's teacher. My heart kind of flip flops, because why is his teacher calling me after school? I mean, I love my kids and I think they are wonderful, really GOOD kids, but I also see them in their worst moments--name calling, karate chop your sibling, angry moments--and I think to myself, "He used tae kwon do on someone who was bothering him. Great." But instead she clears her throat and says, "I just wanted you to know that I am so, so blessed to have Logan in my class."

And I laugh a little bit, because it's not really what I was expecting to hear, but it is what I needed to hear. So I tell her thank you, that hearing how great my kid is makes my job so much more worth it. I didn't even think to ask her how he's doing, or what prompted her to call, it just didn't cross my mind. But that's ok; I'm just glad that she did.

45 minutes later and I load everyone back into the van, pick up Logan, run into Aldi to grab a bag of salad for dinner, and hurry home. Logan carries the groceries into the house (that kid really is great) and he takes the trash out while I stick the roast that has been marinating in the fridge into the oven.

Then I head upstairs to start a bath for Ammon. Somehow he managed, with his bare feet, to step in knee deep mud while we were at the park. I wash his hair and let him play for 20 minutes while I sit on my bed with Grant and listen to him read me a story about goats.

Madison and Logan finish their homework and then take their showers. There is a knock on the door, and I send the neighborhood kids away. No time to play tonight, unfortunately. I get the salad made, the table set, pull the roast and sweet potatoes out of the oven. Ammon may or may not be running around the house naked. 

Dad calls me as he is pulling into the driveway at 7:00 to tell me that there is someone knocking on the door. I let him take care of the salesman while I holler for everyone to get to the table. We eat dinner. Finally.

Everyone helps to clean up, and at 7:40 it is time for Family Home Evening. I read them D&C 109:8. A house of order. We gather in a circle and there is a volley of 6 loads of clothes that I washed today being thrown to their owners, and finally the clothes are folded and put away. Then there is a rush to pick up the play room floor that is littered with legos, cars, Star Wars characters, and lots of other random stuff.

Time to take a breath. It's clean. Well, cleaner. Another human circle is made as we say family prayer, and then everyone runs down the stairs to eat the chocolate cupcakes that Ammon and I made. Well, everyone but Ammon, because he didn't eat his supper.

Now they are all in bed, almost an hour past their bedtime. But their homework is done, they have been fed, they have clean clothes--that are put away!--and we weren't yelling at each other the entire night, so I guess I could call it a success.  

And I will do it all over again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. And I love it because it's the choice that we made, and I wouldn't change it for anything in the world. It's just another day in paradise. 

music analogy

I finished my class and I stopped writing. For some reason when you are writing everyday there is always something to write about. But the longer you go without writing, the harder it gets to come up with something to write about. I suppose it's like that with all of our talents--the longer we go without using them, the harder it is to use them.

For example, I haven't really played the piano for months. Oh sure, I'll play the organ for church, or I'll sit down to help my kids with their songs, but I haven't had the desire to sit down and pull out my music and play song after song after song, so I just haven't played. The last few nights (weeks?) Madison has asked me if I would play the piano at 8:00--the time that they are in bed and supposed to be sleeping. She says she likes falling asleep to classical music. So tonight I sat down and played for about an hour. My fingers were a little clumsier than usual, stumbling too fast over notes they used to have memorized. I should start playing again. I should start writing again.

I hired someone else to teach Logan, Madison, and Grant piano lessons. I just wasn't being consistent enough. Not to mention it's just a lot frustrating to teach your own children. So I drop them off once a week for lessons, and then I hustle them during the week to practice. I still need to sit down with Grant. I still have to remind Logan and Madison to count, or I tell them that something doesn't sound right, that they need to check the notes.

They almost always say something like, "Mom, I'm playing it right." "No, you're actually not." "Mom, I AM! This is what the music says."

Those are the moments that I want to bang my head on the piano and shout, "I have been playing the piano for almost 30 years, so LISTEN to me!! That is the wrong note! You need to hold that longer. SLOW DOWN!"

Actually, this happened just the other day. But I didn't shout; I whispered. "Madison." She just kept telling me why I was wrong. I whispered, "Madison. Madison. Shut your mouth and listen." And she looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, "What kind of a mother tells you to shut your mouth? I can't believe you just said that!" And I whispered back, "I need you to close your mouth so you can hear what I am trying to tell you."

And while I was playing the piano this evening, I had this thought. Sometimes we try to go too fast, play the wrong notes, insist that we know what our life-music is supposed to sound like. But our Heavenly Father--he knows. He knows. 

getting to a place where no on can hurt you

When the economy crashed and Joe lost his job in Cleveland, we said to ourselves: what can we do so that we never, ever, have to depend on a single person for our paycheck? We created a business. It took over a year before we could even pay ourselves. It took two years to feel financially safe again. Owning a business is hard, but so worth it to know that your job is secure as long as you do your part.

We left a home we loved in Cleveland, Ohio and moved to a nasty fluorescent rental house in Garland, Texas. At the end of the 18 month contract, our landlord sent us a 30 day notice. They were moving back in. 

So we scrambled, with a 2 month old baby, and we moved to another Dallas suburb an hour away. We told our new landlord we wanted to stay here for 3 years; we were hoping to buy a home by then. That was 2011. In April 2014 we signed up to build a home. We asked our landlord if we could extend our time until it was finished. He agreed. "Stay as long as you need," he said.

Yesterday he told us that he needed to move back in. 30 days. Deja vu.  

We are trying to negotiate, to make it worth his while to let us stay a few extra months. Anything to not have to move twice.

I guess we'll do whatever we have to do, and whatever happens, happens.

But here we are again, asking ourselves: what can we do so that we never, ever, have to worry about where we are going to live?

We're going to wait for our home to be built, and we're going to move into it. And then we will get that house paid off as quickly as possible. Because I'm tired of this. I'm tired of other people dictating what we're going to do, and where we're going to live, and how we're going to spend our stress. So just like we took control of our income, we are going to take control of our home. I feel myself hardening, reaching out to create this box of safety, working to get to a place where no one can hurt my family.