not my favorite night

I am startled out of sleep at approximately 1:30 a.m. There is a momentary confusion--is someone seriously knocking on my door in the middle of the night? Like--pounding hard knocking. I get out of bed and put on some more appropriate clothing. I peek down through the blinds. There are two men standing on my front porch (really more like the tiny slab of cement in front of the door). They are standing in the rain, wearing dark clothing, and I'm pretty sure their heads are covered by hoodies. What. The heck. After a few moments I watch them walk down my driveway and turn right. They change their minds after a few steps and turn to start walking in another direction, another house. I'm not sure what to do, so I walk downstairs.

Joe is in Colorado. I don't know why, but I call him. "There are two guys wearing hoodies knocking at the front door." He tells me to hang up and call the police. I feel stupid. Is there really a threat?

I call 911.

She asks me for the address of the emergency. I think that's exactly what she said. I hesitate, because I don't even know if it's an emergency, but I go ahead and tell her my address. Then I say, "I don't even know if it's an emergency, but I'm home alone with four kids and two men in dark clothing are knocking on my door. I think they walked away, but only to knock on other doors."

She tells me that there is an alarm going off in my neighborhood and that two officers are trying to find the house.

I'm almost delirious, my heart is still pounding, and I'm MAD. They woke me up at 1:30 in the morning  because they can't figure out what house is beeping? "I don't see a police car. Definitely no flashing lights," I tell her. "It's the middle of the night. They don't want to wake the whole neighborhood up," she says. Thanks a lot.

Joe calls me; I explain the situation.

I try, unsuccessfully, to go back to sleep.

I am tired today. These days I get tired pretty easily, but this is a weary, exhausted, didn't-have-to-happen tired. I keep replaying the whole thing in my mind. Who knocks like that at 1:30 in the morning? Who would open their door to strangers in dark clothing? What if I had opened the door while holding a weapon? Would I have been shot?

I'm thankful that Ammon is easy-going. We ate an early lunch and I was able to take a two hour nap. We are all safe, and that is what matters, but I can't help but wonder: isn't there a better way?

Logan writes an essay

He came home complaining that he had to write an informative essay. By tomorrow. I suggested he write about something he knows, so he decided to write about something that has, until this point in time, been the most defining experience of his short 11-year old life.

How to Prepare for an Appalachian Trail Hike

Hiking these mountains is a thrilling experience, but the terrain makes it deadly, especially if you don't prepare well. Therefore, for the full thrill of your hiking experience to be unlocked, you should read this to find the best way to prepare for your trip.

You cannot enter this trail with no training unless you want to feed the vultures. You have to be ready for the weight of your pack and the long distance walking, maybe two or three miles at a time, and slowly advance to longer distances. Pace yourselves--speed is more important than you think. Then you add some weight. Go on practice hikes with the food and supplies you need in your pack. You could also strap a 20 pound dumbbell on your back and start over with your 1-2 mile distances, moving up in weight and distance each time. Only after this harsh training will your body be prepared for this hike.

No matter how much your body can take, it won't matter unless you have an idea about how far you will walk, where you will go, and where you will sleep. You need to study maps and read about the places that you can go. Should you stop at Civil War sites? Maybe go past good views? Possibly past towns to replenish supplies? Whatever you do, you need a starting point, a trail, and an ending point. Pick the distances that you want to go every day and where you want to sleep. Now you know where you want to go, and your body is fit to go there.

You know where to go, and your body can handle the distance, but where is your fuel? Where are your tools? Well, you pack them, but how do you know what to pack? Well, let's start with packing food. You need something filling, light, it cannot rot, and you have to have enough of it. I would suggest one pack of freeze dried food per meal. I would not suggest meat that isn't freeze dried, because 5 minutes after eating you will be on the verge of puking. If you want to bring a snack, bring energy bars. However, you don't need too much of a snack, because every once in a while, there is a plain field with berries that are ok to eat. For drinks there are places along the trail to replenish water, but you might want to bring some chocolate or gatorade powder to add some taste... only if you are desperate, of course.

Also, you will need tools. These should include eating utensils, means to cook your food, and two lights. There is no need for weapons, as none of the animals will attack you, not even the bears. In fact, the forest can seem lifeless at times. You will, of course, need a sleeping bag and tent. The only thing you need to know about this is that you should get the smallest, lightest of each that you can find.

Let's go! Now that you are ready, you'd best be headed off. I hope your hiking experience is great!

22.5 weeks

Another no-makeup photo. Oh well. The kids have been sick and I've been stuck inside. 

But come on--you can definitely tell there is a baby in there!! 

You might notice how empty the mantel looks. 

On the side you will notice the stacks of boxes that are taking over my house. 

I'm in a packing/throwing away mood. My friend said her husband said nesting plus moving is bad news....we'll have nothing left. But I have decided: if I don't love it, I'm not taking it to the new home. What that really means is that I'm going to have a lot of boxes of stuff and no where to put them, since most of what I'm getting rid of is broken second-hand shelving. 

I feel pretty good. Yesterday was the first day I noticed that I don't like to bend over much. 

Today I had to ask a friend I was helping if I could sit down. That's kind of embarrassing. I'm not sure if it's low blood sugar or what, but standing for long periods of time makes me feel like I'm going to pass out. It only takes one time of waiting too long to realize that I need to 1) recognize the signs 2) get over my pride and 3) sit down quickly. I have felt this way for 3 of my pregnancies and the doctor says that's normal. So anyway, I have a good excuse to sit a lot. 

The baby weighs 1 lb 1oz. He is the size of a banana, and 3 days bigger than my due date. I had an extensive ultrasound and everything looks great. The kids (and Joe, of course) can now feel the baby moving and love to sit by me with their hand on my belly. Actually, Joe likes that for a few minutes but after 4 kids says it's old news. He's jealous, that's all. 

Right now the only name Joe and I are at a compromise on is August Benjamin. He likes it because August is a unique name; I like it because my grandfather's name was Augustus. Benjamin is after my brother, Ben, who was killed in a car accident in 2004. 

The kids hate the name, but are coming around to it. Sometimes they call him Auggie, or Augustus, or Ceaser Augustus, or Peter Parker. 

Ok. I found the house unlocked again yesterday and Ammon and I hung out in it for about half an hour. They just need to do a final cleaning, patch up some bricks I made them move (they put an outside gas connection in the wrong place--three times!), and paint the front door red. 

I love it. 

Life is good. 

Knock on wood. 

a look back

Five years ago today we drove our family of five through the Texas border with the hopes of starting a new, better, life. We walked into a rental home we had never seen--also maybe the ugliest home I have ever seen--with a different fluorescent color on every single wall. It was 30 degrees inside the house, so we all bundled up, and then the five of us tried to sleep on one double air mattress. It never warmed up because the heater in that terrible house was broken. I cried that first night as I thought of the beautiful home in Cleveland that we had left behind in exchange for something so unstable and unknown. I cried the next morning, a Sunday, as I drove to Walmart to purchase a little heater, and I cried as we shivered and shook while we tried to get ready, without any of our belongings, for a new church with new people. 

We had a little bit of hope, and we were a lot terrified. But mostly we felt unsure about what was going to happen. Could we really start a business in the middle of the Great Recession? How long would it take to catch up again? To feel safe?

I got through those challenging moments by telling myself that in five years I would wonder why I was so worried. That we would survive--because what other choice is there? I promised myself that we would survive, and that while we survived we would love and live as gracefully and happily as possible. 

Sometimes "possible" looked like a mom hiding in her bedroom, her head buried into a pillow, while she cried and begged her God for help and reassurance. Sometimes "possible" looked like a little first grade boy hiding notes from his teacher that asked for money, because he knew that money was a sensitive subject. Sometimes "possible" meant a family spending time together in their home playing games, singing songs, and making happy memories that didn't cost any money. 

My deadline of five years has now been met. I do not look back and wonder why I worried. I look back and realize that our story is amazing. So much more amazing than it would be had we not been given the opportunity to struggle. I look back and see a girl who was me, but a different me. I can look back through my timeline and see how I have changed and grown as a person. My family has grown--not only physically, but in so many other ways. We are stronger. We understand what it is to struggle, and there is compassion in understanding. We have learned how to save and manage money. We have learned how to forgive and move on from the things and people who have hurt us. We are more generous and willing to share what we have been given. 

As I look back I can see, and I know, without a doubt, that we were not left alone on this journey. As the pieces of the puzzle come together it is very clear to me that Heavenly Father knew what he was doing as he led us to  meet the people we needed to meet, and at the very right time, in order to get to where we are today. 

Five years. It is about to come full circle. Finally, we not only feel financially safe, but we feel like we have "caught up." We hope to close on our beautiful home in a few weeks, and finally, I feel like the chapter of loss that I have felt over our home in Cleveland will come to a close. 

In some ways, now that we have made it these five years, I feel like we are about to embark on a new journey. What will the next five years bring? I'm sure there will be much happiness along with some sorrow. New experiences. My children will grow older. Joe and I will get older!!

My prayer today, and always, is that I can live each day to its fullest. One of my favorite quotes is from Joseph B. Wirthlin, "Come what may, and love it." 

Today it is 15 degrees outside. Not so unlike that very cold January 8, 2010, when we first arrived in Texas. My kids are healthy (after 3 days of being sick) and back in school. I am enjoying my minutes with Ammon, and absolutely loving the dancing inside my belly. My husband works. He's busy. So busy that sometimes I complain about his late nights spent working. But Oh! What a wonderful thing it is to be busy! To have so much work to do that it keeps you up all night! My house, though a complete and crazy disaster of boxes and stuff, is warm! 

Come what may--today, tomorrow, and over the next five years--I know that we will survive. And as we survive, we will continue to love and live as gracefully and happily as possible. 

half of a Christmas post

I don't think we actually took any pictures on Christmas Day. I'd like to believe we were too busy enjoying our time together. We had a very good Christmas. The highlight was when the kids opened their baby presents and found out that they were going to have another baby brother. That deserves its own post--soon. Maybe. 

We decided to skip the toys this year. Instead we bought the kids one-ish bigger gift(s). 

Logan got his very own bow with arrows. Like--a real bow. He has spent hours shooting it--almost every day. 

Madison got a ripstick (sort of like a skateboard that mimicks snowboarding) and a pair of boots. She complained at first that she didn't get anything she wanted (because again, we didn't buy toys), but after she put on her boots and figured out how to work the ripstick she was happy again. 

Grant got a camping experience with dad. He got some hiking boots, a head lamp, and some freezer dried food. They went camping on Friday. The coyotes howled, the wind blew, the rain came down. They packed up at 5 am, hiked back to the car, and came home. Grant has no desire to go camping again, but enjoys telling the kids that he saw a coyote lose a bloody tooth. (Ummm. Ok?)

Ammon got a very nice scooter--one just like Grant's. He loves it, only now we get to hear him and Grant fight (cry) about who can go faster. 

We also got each of the kids a laundry basket and they all chose a day to do their own laundry each week (Grant and Ammon are together, and I said I would help them). They actually seem ok with it--maybe even excited. 

Random thoughts:

Someday I will be able to take a shower without anyone barging in to talk to me. And when I lock the door (in an attempt for privacy) no one will bang and on the door, and shout through the door (and over the water) for the entire 10 minutes, to tell me they have to go to the bathroom (we have 3 toilets), or to tell me that they are being mean--or nice. Today someone actually knocked to tell me he/she was being nice to someone else. 

Until that day, I will celebrate the little things like:

Watching Grant stand on a chair at the washing machine (with his headlamp on so he can see into the dark abyss) so he can do his own laundry. Also, he volunteered to do Madison's for her today. 

We are also celebrating (and I'm laughing) over the fact that he came in to tell me that he folded 8! pairs of underwear! "See mom, I changed my underwear everyday this week!!!" 

Oh yes. On Saturday we put Ammon down for a nap on my bed and turned a movie on for the other kids so that Joe and I could drive 2 miles down the road and eat lunch together. 45 minutes gone, tops. Right as we were getting our food we got a text from Madison: "Ammon got out of bed and he got into your nail polish."

He painted his nails, his clothes, and my quilt. I also found a few drops on the floor today. I actually had a conversation in my head (while scrubbing my fingers raw with chemicals) debating whether or not I'd rather deal with nail polish mess (expense of replacing items) or a child cutting his/her own hair (more immediately and physically noticeable and takes time to grow back). I'm undecided. 

So today I am celebrating the fact that it didn't happen in the new house (I'm locking the polish up!), and I guess this means I get to buy new bedding. 

Just another day in paradise! 

half-baked / it's getting real

20 weeks today. Going. So. Fast.

Amazing!

Ammon giving the baby kisses.

We are force-teaching our children to learn patience and self control by making them wait until Christmas Eve (tomorrow) to find out if they will be having a baby brother or a baby sister.

Logan is convinced that it is a girl.
Madison wants a boy. (Direct quote: "A girl will change my life.")
Grant is positive it's a boy.
Ammon says something different every time we ask him.

What do you think?

getting our craft on

Last week Madison was given an assignment to research Jane Long, write a short biography, and create a biography bottle. 

(I am going to go ahead and not rant and rave about how school projects=parent projects. I'm not even going to mention how annoying it is to have to teach my child how to do a research paper because the only instruction she got was a paper that listed requirements, including a works cited page, which my daughter has never heard of.) 

Madison sat in front of the computer for a few afternoons and wrote a three-page paper in a 24-point loopy font. I helped her format it correctly (much to her dismay; I am so boring) and then read through it while trying to decide just how tough to be on a fourth grader who ends her paper with a sentence that says something like, "...this brave and mysterious woman who was the mother of Texas." (Brave, possibly; mysterious--I think not.) 

Let's move on to the bottle. It is no secret that I detest crafting. Most likely because I am horrible at it. But I love Madi, so we studied some pictures and got to work on her biography bottle. 

This is Jane Long. 

We covered a ball with some fabric and hot-glue gunned everything to the pop bottle. Madison penciled a face onto the head. At this point I left her to give the boys baths. 

15ish minutes later I call downstairs to ask her if she has cleaned up. No response. I travel down the stairs and see her bottle on the TV stand. The bonnet/veil thing we made was covering its face. It was sitting on a note (which unfortunately I threw away). It said something like, "I can't even look at it. She looks like an ax murderer. Why didn't Jane Long smile in any of her pictures? I am going to get an F--, and all of my friends are going to laugh at me. I am not taking it to school. Why did you let me do this?" 

I lift the veil and see this. 

Ok, my day had been long and busy. I was tired. So I saw this and I could NOT stop laughing. I laughed and I laughed. Madison comes in, sees me laughing, and starts sobbing. The boys, hearing the chaos, rush down the stairs, see the bottle, and then they start laughing. Madison cries louder and stomps away. 

Not my finest moment. Actually, I like to think of it as proof that I actually do have a sense of humor. It's due tomorrow, and I think she's going to have to take it just like it is. 

**********

Quick house update. 

House is bricked and almost done. I asked Madi to take a few pictures (we are on good terms again). We now have tiles in the wet areas and lights and doorknobs (no electricity). 

The view from our backyard. For now. 

Stairs

Here's where I would show a picture of the kitchen, except that I'm not happy with it right now. We paid for pendant lighting over our island, but I don't love the lights. Also, they are spaced weirdly and almost touching the countertop. I guess I'm like Madi; I don't even want to look at the picture because it's not how I pictured it in my head! There are a few other items that were not exactly right as well.... I wrote a nice email to our builder; hopefully that will be enough to make some changes. 

18-ish weeks

We decided to visit Dad's office and take him to a furniture store called The Dump. Apparently they aren't open on Thursdays, so we went to the Galleria Mall instead so that I could show Joe what style of purses I like (he asked me to). 

I DON'T like big gold (or even silver) chains or zipper decorations or metal studs. I also don't like fancy. Apparently I am in the minority. I like my $15 Chinatown crossover purse that stays put no matter how many kids or groceries I am hauling. Unfortunately, my faux leather purse has held too many things over the last 3 years and the faux leather is ripping and running and it's time to upgrade. I found two or three crossover purses that did not have all those metal pieces and were just plain leather with some pockets. They were nice, but more casual and practical. That's more like it. 

We stopped in at the Coach store and the lady at the front was complimenting Ammon and then asked if I would have more kids. I explained that Ammon was my fourth, but the others were at school. There was the awkward one-sided conversation where she said how thin I was after having four kids. I just said thank you to this lady stranger and got ready to leave when Joe, of course, had to tell her I was pregnant. Five kids? Holy what? I'm not kidding. She called the lady from the back of the store--like from behind a door, and who also happened to be 4 months pregnant--to tell her I was pregnant with my fifth kid. Awkward. They just kept talking and asking me questions and then finally Joe and Ammon walked out and I said, "Welp, they're leaving. Gotta' go!" One more reason why you should never go anywhere alone! 

(Side note here: the most marvelous response I have ever had was when I was 7 weeks pregnant and at an urgent care. I had to tell them I was pregnant, and when the dr asked how many kids and I said 5, she said, "What a wonderful blessing!" So the next time you hear something surprising, use that phrase.)

We stopped at a Jamba Juice. I seriously don't know if we've had one since we lived in Rexburg, and I was surprised they had them here in Dallas. They've changed a little and we couldn't find our old favorite, which means we will need to keep experimenting for a new favorite. 

Joe wanted to take a picture while  we were waiting for them to blend our drinks.  

So here I am, 18 weeks. Feeling pretty good. Not too tired. I need to eat ASAP in the morning or I feel like I'm going to pass out. The baby is moving a lot; kids (and Joe) will be able to feel him/her moving very soon. Next week we will find out the gender. We'll probably tell people this time. Eventually. 

preoccupied

Pretty much the only thing on my mind these days is the new house. Curtains, bar stools, furniture arrangements. 

I'm also kind of terrified that it's not going to really happen. I will breathe a big breath when we are actually in the house. Our first/last buying experience didn't go so well. Something about a Great Recession and lost property values in a city that no one wanted to move to. I loved that house. 

Let's not think about it. Time to move on. Let it go. Let it go! 

Pretty much the only way to satisfy my moving preoccupation is to pack, which means that what used to look like this

and this

now looks like 

and 

Every room in the house. 

And I might be living like this for the next 2 months, since we just found out today that they don't think we can close until after Jan 30. 

I am trying to keep one room box-free. For my sanity. Because I hate messes almost as much as I hate people seeing my messes. So if you come over--the living room is the only room you may enter. 

most embarrassing mom ever

Our house is looking very house-ish. Our walls are painted, we have doors, baseboards, shelves, and cupboards!! Unfortunately, I left my phone (camera) in the car and didn't take any pictures, but that's ok because not only do we plan on frequently stalking the house during these last few weeks, but we also look forward to moving in soon!

We chatted with one of our new neighbors (who is a policeman) for a few minutes, and as we were walking away, Logan and Madi voiced their concerns about living next to him because they are afraid he will shoot us! So I embarrassed all of us by taking them back to talk to him and asking him, "Are you a nice policeman? Are you going to shoot us?" I explained all of the media hype has made them afraid of policemen, and he assured us all that he was a good guy and he promised not to shoot us. 

Madison and Logan have informed me that I am the most embarrassing mom, ever. And to make it worse, I am actually telling people it happened!! They still aren't completely comfortable with the idea of living next to a policeman (they said that means they can't play with water or nerf guns), but he does seem very nice, and I hope that he leaves his police car in his driveway so that no one bothers us! 

we can do hard things

If you've ever met Logan, you know he is just about the most perfect 11 year old boy you've ever met. I've had more than a few people tell me that they think he will be president someday. I get to see him at home with his younger siblings, so I happen to know he's not perfect, but he is pretty dang great. His teachers love him; they go out of their way to actually hug me and sing praises of him every time I see them. He's a good kid.

Part of his greatness stems from the fact that he has anxiety. He is constantly worried that he will let people down--whether it is me, his teachers, or himself. I noticed recently that his fingertips were chewed down and raw; they looked bad. I would've started sobbing if he wasn't right there in front of me. He explained that he chews off his skin when he feels anxious. 

I ache for him, because I know what anxiety is (and from where he gets it). I was diagnosed with anxiety in 2002, shortly after getting married. I was taking 21 credits, had a scholarship to maintain (meaning basically I had to have a 4.0), and I was working 20-30 hours a week. I think that's enough to give anyone anxiety, but I didn't handle it particularly well. 

I don't really talk about this much, but I went to counseling for a short while to learn how to manage my anxiety. I'm so glad I did, because I have been able to identify it with Logan, help him to identify it, and to use some of the skills I learned to help him manage his anxiety. 

The first step, as I mentioned, is to recognize what you are feeling. A lot of my anxiety has to do with control. Identifying what I don't have control over helps me to identify what I do have control over. That gives me the ability to take action over the things I can control.

For example, we don't have control over the homework or tests we have to take, but we do have control over when and how we study. 

Another skill is to ask ourselves what the worse case scenario is. A bad grade? Someone gets upset at us? Role playing is also helpful. It helps to walk through these steps because we often realize that we can survive even the very worst outcome, and the worst outcome very rarely happens. 

I am probably the only mom I know who actually discourages my child from fasting. For a while Logan was fasting every Sunday for the things he was feeling anxious about. While I certainly want to encourage his faith, I didn't feel this was a healthy habit. I have a rule that he cannot fast on a school day, simply because he needs food in his body in order to have energy to get through a demanding day of school. 

This week I asked him to talk to his teacher about a class picture we had paid for but hadn't received. I know this seems like an easy request, but it set off some major anxiety for Logan. He couldn't concentrate on anything else that evening; he begged me to let him fast the next morning for courage to talk to his teacher. I said no. We could pray for help, but he couldn't fast on a week day.  

We role played what to say, and we talked through the worst case scenario--which was that he wouldn't get his class picture. 

I had almost forgotten about it until he came home yesterday, and when we were alone he said, "Mom, I did it." He did it! He talked to his teacher, she wasn't annoyed, and she even said she could help him figure out how to get his picture. We had a little happy celebration. He did it! 

The other thing that helps those of us with anxiety? We have a little saying in our family: we can do hard things. 

To most of us, talking to a teacher wouldn't be a big deal, but it was to Logan. And at the end of our conversation yesterday, without any prompting, he exclaimed, "I can do hard things." 

Joe and I have seen him grow in confidence over the last year, and we think it has a lot to do with his involvement in Taekwondo along with his experience spending a week this summer hiking the Appalachian trail with his dad, grandpa, and uncle. He is truly learning that he can do hard things, and that, combined with his faith (and maybe even some of that anxiety?), will help to make him into an amazing young man, missionary, husband, father, and contributer to society. 

17.1

I had a dream last night that I couldn't find my favorite clothes. I was looking everywhere for a blue ruffle shirt, but it was gone. I woke up wondering where it could be, and realized that I hadn't looked in the box I had (in real life) stored it because I knew it wouldn't fit me for the next year.

Oh yeah.

It's still easy for me to forget that every second of my life--right this moment--cells are multiplying and miracles are taking place to create a life inside of this body of mine that for the most part works incredibly well. 

We took a one-mile scooter/walk this morning. It felt warmer today (55 degrees), so I didn't wear a jacket, but quickly regretted my choice. We walked/scooted quickly to get home for hot chocolate, and the entire time I was swinging my arms and feeling grateful for--for so, so much. 

I can still sleep on my back, sprawl out on the floor to read books with my kids on my stomach, and bend or reach over to move or pick things up. Ammon can still snuggle close on my lap as we watch The Grinch. I can jump on the trampoline outside and make a grand effort to beat my kids playing Just Dance. 

Even if my little bump doesn't look like much, I can still use pregnancy as every excuse, to: forget things, not walk up the stairs, mix up words, be grouchy, feel tired, take a break from Just Dance (but tell them to keep dancing). My kids think it's funny and have even started saying it for me. They have recently asked me what I am going to say when I'm not pregnant anymore. "I have five kids." Amen. 

The one thing that is somewhat bothersome is that I have been cramping (contracting?) quite a bit. It's uncomfortable but not too alarming because it has happened with every pregnancy. With Logan it started at 32 weeks and I was on bedrest until 35 weeks (they said they wouldn't stop the labor after that and I needed to finish student teaching). It has gotten earlier with every pregnancy and the doctors say it must just be my body--16/17 weeks is definitely the earliest it has ever happened, though, and it's not my favorite. I am trying to stay hydrated and I try to rest when the cramping starts. I don't know that it really helps, but that's all I can do. 

My kids have no idea what it's like to be pregnant, but they have been as understanding and helpful as can be. Last week Logan made my bed almost every day; I came downstairs to Grant sweeping without being asked and Logan wiping out the cabinet under the sink. Crazy, and lucky, I know! Joe (who knows as much as a man can know about what it's like to be pregnant) was home from work Thursday-Sunday (pure happiness), and he did a lot of cooking and cleaning--even the master bathroom, which was in pretty bad shape. He loves me.

I'm going to go ahead and write this next thing down because, yes, it made my day just a little bit. We were eating breakfast and Joe made some cute, silly comment about me looking good and asked the kids if their friends said their mom was pretty. Logan kind of blushed and quietly admitted that when I go to his school his friends tease him about me and ask how old I am. We all had a good laugh, and he says I can still visit him at school. I'm taken, 11-year old boys, and have 5ish kids to prove it, but thank you for making this "old" mom smile. 

So Ammon took this picture. He figured out a new trick: if you hold down the button on my iphone it will take about 100 pictures in 10 seconds. I'm only slightly exaggerating. It was kind of a good thing because as he was clicking away he was also waving the camera around. We had a good laugh as we looked through his blurry pictures; I'm so lucky to be able to spend my days with him. 

As you can see, we are getting ready for Christmas and to celebrate the birth of our Savior. To be honest, I hope for the entire month to be a celebration instead of just a countdown to Chrismtas Day. We took Logan out of Taekwondo for the month so that we could maximize our time and make as many memories together as possible during the month of December. This truly is the most wonderful time of the year!