whinefest part II

You know you need help when someone asks you how you are doing and instead of the traditional, "fine thanks, and you?"....you start sobbing.

Yeah, that's been me the past few weeks. After some encouragement from some friends who got to see my ugly cry, I asked a chiropractor in our church if he would take me as a patient. Normally this would be really awkward and embarrassing because dang it! I hate feeling like I need help. . . and it's someone that  I know and I hang out with his wife. But at this point I just needed someone to make the pain go away.

And unfortunately, it might be a good while before that happens. Somehow I have a second degree strain between my spine and my right shoulder blade. Basically--I tore a muscle. I am right handed, so it hurts to do anything. Brush teeth, brush kids' teeth, wash dishes, fold clothes, sweep, vacuum, mop, drive, move. Sit. Sleep. Constant pain. I was told 8 weeks to heal, and I've read as much as 3-4 months before feeling completely normal.

That is a long time.

I'm not supposed to be doing repetitive motions (sweeping, etc) or picking up kids. Tell me how that works when you are a mom?! My family has been awesome. The kids are constantly asking about my back and praying that mom will feel better soon. Logan and Madison are in charge of 2 of the bathrooms and other various chores, Grant is doing the vacuuming, and besides picking up a lot of what I usually do during the day, Joe even came home a little bit early last week and cleaned our bathroom. . . that hadn't been cleaned in 3 weeks. Still, the house is not up to its normal standards, and we won't be inviting anyone over anytime soon.

As a result of mom's "laziness," Ammon has had a little more freedom to get into trouble: squirting out tubes of toothpaste, pulling everything (usually food that spills/scatters onto the dirty kitchen floor) off of the counters, dumping milk all over the floor, squeezing hair gel all over his hair. . . and everything else within a 2-feet radius.... just to name a few off the top of my head.

Also, I dropped my 2-month old iphone 5 on the floor. That thing has been dropped and thrown probably 100's of times...but this time the glass shattered. It still works, so I'm not going to pay $200 to buy a refurbished phone....but I'm stuck with it for the next 2 years. :(

OK, so things I am grateful for:

• A husband who is willing to help out around the house, even when he's been at work all day.
• A husband who loves me and makes me feel attractive even when I have greasy hair and mascara smudges on my face.
• Kids who feel empathy and compassion and are willing to help around the house and with the younger kids.
• Kids who are old enough to help out.
• My dad, who told me last night that it was ok if the house was a mess. 
• Books.
• Friends who ask me how I'm doing and are ok when I start crying. 
• Friends who offer to help. 
• The 70 degree weather we are supposed to have all week.
• Prayer. I'm no longer asking that the pain will be taken away, but that I can deal with the pain.
• Walking. It feels good to stretch and move, and the movement of walking (in this great weather) helps to take my mind off of the constant pain. 
• Despite his ability to get into trouble, Ammon is pretty cute. His new word is "ugly." Today I asked him what his name was, and he said, "Ugly," and started laughing. I did, too; he most definitely is NOT ugly!! 

Here's hoping that February is a happier month than January. :)

doggy paddling

First it was the flu. Then it was the general feeling of un-wellness. After a few weeks I got tired of feeling awful and went to the urgent care to find out what was wrong with me: strep throat and a sinus infection. Who knew you could have strep without a fever? It was worth the $200 to get diagnosed and get started on my $4 amoxicillin.* And then 3 days later, just when I was feeling good enough to fold the heaps and heaps of clean clothes that had piled up over the sick weeks, I took a 15 minute nap and woke up with a sharp pain in my back.

Did I mention that I really dislike going to the dr?

So instead of going to the chiropractor I decided to try the 20 min of heat/ice rotation. Surely it would go away on its own?? That was Wednesday. I think the pain is actually getting worse. It's like I'm being stabbed between my spine and my shoulder blade. It burns. 

I'm tired of trying to stay afloat and I'm ready to get back to my normal routine. Ready for clean bathrooms and crumbless countertops. The kids are now used to sifting through the piles of clean clothes in the playroom each morning as they look for something to wear to school. I'm ready to get back to my treadmill during nap time. I'm ready to stop taking naps! I'm ready to be the mom and wife I want to be. I'm ready to feel healthy.

Ok, whinefest is over. For today. 

*Can I tell you that I AM incredibly grateful for modern medicine and antibiotics? 

Anxiety

Everyone says my kids look like Joe. Even Grant--the one who I think looks most like me (it's the nose and white skin). But if there is one thing that the kids got from me. . . it's worry (except Grant, ironically). I worry. I think I'm getting better--only because I make a conscious effort because I want to live a full life, and you can't if you are fearful or worried about everything. Not many people know this, but I was diagnosed with anxiety about a year after Joe and I got married. I've learned a lot about how to deal with anxiety over the past decade.

Anyway, this wasn't supposed to be about me.

Here are some examples:  

Madison may be one of the only girls around who has absolutely NO interest in getting her ears pierced. Why? Because it involves a sharp object going through her ears. The other day she asked me why I didn't just get it done when she was a baby and couldn't think or remember it. (I, for some reason, do not fear pain. I wanted my ears pierced so badly that I did it myself with a dull earring.)

Logan (probably the most anxious of us all) is afraid of dogs. We went on a family walk and there was an unattended dog in a yard. It started barking and big-eyed Logan backed away in a panic. (Grant, on the other hand, walked towards the dog. He is fearless. . . mainly because he thinks he is a super-hero. Seriously.)

Logan has been especially anxious over the past three months. In September he ran into a fence while playing ball at school and he had to get some stitches in his bottom eyelid. I held him down while they inserted the gear necessary to put him completely under. The nurse blew something like 4 veins trying to get that needle into the boy (who was kicking and screaming). He miraculously held still for the plastic surgeon while the sutures were removed but the idiot doctor failed to remove the two that we found two weeks later--sticking out like blue eyelashes. Now almost 3 months later, after several canceled appointments (on their part) and one failed (on our part), and also after Logan had fasted 3 Sundays, said numberless prayers, and received a blessing from his father, we were excited for the final appointment where Logan would theoretically sit still while the doctor removed the final stitch. Well, Logan did his part, but it had taken so long that the suture had grown into the skin. The doctor informed us that he could get it out by injecting numbing stuff into Logan's eyelid and then recutting the injury in order to remove the suture.

WHAT!!

Well, we tried. Logan tried. But not matter how much he wanted to sit still, he couldn't do it.

Our initial response was to be furious. "Just sit still and let the idiot doctor finish this once and for all!!!!" 

It wasn't happening.  No threat of burning Pokemon cards or canceling the celebratory Chucky Cheese dinner was going to do it.

I've been told that he was screaming out, "NOOOO! Why was I playing ball? Why am I friends with those people? If I wasn't friends with them I wouldn't have been playing ball and then I wouldn't have run into the fence! Why did I have to run into the fence!? That is the worst day of my life!" 

A few hours and many tears later I've come to this conclusion:

He's nine. And he's got some anxiety issues. We shouldn't be angry at him because of something that isn't really his fault. 

I still don't know what we are going to do. I mean, does it really matter if he has a tiny dot of plastic in his eyelid for the rest of his life? 

And Logan and I. . . we'll continue to work with the anxiety. 

It's Personal

Something has been on my mind lately. Like I can't get it out of my mind, obsessed with thinking about it, and can't stop thinking about it. I think I'm going to post about it, but I might not leave this up very long. I'm not asking for advice, I just simply need to write out my thoughts.

In the past 11 1/2 years of marriage, we have produced four beautiful, intelligent, and wonderful children. I would say that at least twice a week I am asked (often by complete strangers) if we are done having kids. It's a very personal topic, and I usually just smile and say something like, "Who knows? We're taking them one at a time!" I enjoy being pregnant, and so far I've had easy pregnancies and easy-ish babies. We've been blessed to be able to provide for them and I think we for the most part do a pretty good job at being a family.

Ammon is almost 2, and this is the time where we start thinking about the next baby. Until recently, I have wanted another baby--or felt sad about not ever feeling life moving around inside of me, or cradling that newborn baby. I have been holding out for one more girl (although now I'm wondering if I would actually want a boy. . . but that's off topic). A few months ago I bought some maternity shirts that were on sale because I thought for sure there would be another one.

But lately. . . lately I am feeling like maybe I would be ok if I never had to be pregnant again. I'm feeling rested, my body is my own (well, unless you count kids using my body as a jungle gym), and I'm looking forward to potty-training Ammon in the next month or so. No more diapers ever? Enticing. Ammon woke up in the middle of the night last night--for the first time in. . . I don't know, a year? Man, it was hard to drag myself out of bed to comfort him. Yesterday my friend's baby was spitting up and had peed through--I do not miss that! We are talking about taking a big camping trip next year. . . it's hard to do those kinds of things when you are pregnant or have a newborn. And honestly, it would feel SO good to get rid of all those boxes of maternity clothes, baby clothes, baby toys, and baby gear. What a release! I mean relief!

Am I being selfish? Or is this what people feel like when they know they are done having kids?

To be honest, one of my big concerns is if I will be able to teach my kids piano lessons. I love music and I love playing the piano, and we have just gotten into the routine of having lessons every week and practicing every day. . . but being pregnant or having a new baby makes me SOOO tired, and I know (from experience) that piano lessons are the first thing to go when I'm tired. Is a talent in playing the piano the most important thing for my children? No, probably not, but how do I explain to you how I feel that it is one small gesture that helps me to know I have time and love enough for all of them? Like. . . if I can't teach my kids how to play the piano then it is like me not being able to sit down and read with them. Like, if I can't do this one thing that is really important to me, then it is a sign that I am not able to take care of them in other areas, too.

And honestly, I'm getting older. The kids are getting older. If we are going to add another McGregor then we need to do it now so that we can do things like take family camping trips and go on vacations together.

I do want a big family, and I do love kids. I love being a mom. One thing that I most look forward to is my children and their spouses and grandkids all coming to my house for holidays and being loud and playing games all night long. I want a lot of family surrounding me and loving me when I get old.

So I go back and forth. One day saying, "YES! I can do this!" And the next day saying, "No way, we are perfect just like this!" If only I could glimpse through the veil and know if there was one more child waiting for me, wanting to be part of our crazy family.

OH, and Happy New Year! Maybe I will update and make goals one of these days!

Sick Days

Two nights ago I went to bed with a stuffy nose and this morning I woke up with a full-blown cold. I am not sure how people handle being sick--and is a cold even considered being sick? Blech. I should be grateful because somehow I have almost 100% of the time miraculously avoided getting whatever nasty sickness everyone else in my family goes through--including the stomach bug that infected every person in my family except me a few weeks ago.

So I haven't made my bed this morning because I intend to crawl right back in whenever I get the chance. Grant thinks he is in heaven because I let him turn on a movie as soon as the big kids went to school. Unfortunately, Ammon doesn't understand that mom wants to shut her eyes for a few minutes, and he uses this opportunity to turn me into a jungle gym and a pin cushion for fingers.

So I am blogging.

I thought I had a ton to say, but I can't remember it all now.

We've managed to get into some sort of a good after-school routine. The kids get home, get a snack, and continue on to do their homework. As I've mentioned, my home has become the hangout place for the neighborhood, which has its goods and bads. Anyway, the kids start knocking, and my kids have learned that before they can go out to play (or their friends can come it) they have to complete their homework, practice their piano (all their songs 3x's each), and do a chore for mom. Playing with friends is a very good motivator. Random info--someone left a pair of blue kid glasses in our backyard. I cannot find the owner, whose parent's are probably not very happy that their son lost his glasses.

I went on a field trip with Logan a few weeks ago and a mom came up to meet me. Apparently her son is also in 3rd grade and lives in our neighborhood and has asked if he could come play at Logan's house because that is where all the other kids played. She wanted to meet me before sending her child over to a stranger's house. I appreciate that, and understand, because several kids come over to play and I don't think their parents have a clue where they are--and they certainly don't know who I am!

Yesterday I made whole wheat oatmeal cookies for book club. I never bake because I am the one who ends up eating the junk while everyone is at school. Anyway, I sent some cookies home with the neighbor kids, and a few minutes later they returned with cookies their mom had been baking and had sent back to us! We need to be better at inviting these neighbors over--not just their kids.

Also, this is not aimed at anyone, just something that has been on my mind lately. I have really great kids. They are well-behaved, good students, hard workers, good listeners, helpful, honest, etc. I am very grateful for the experience I have as their mother. That said, I am told often--very often--how lucky I am to have easy kids. People will say, "I don't know what that would be like to have kids that________(fill in blank)." I agree--I am lucky. I agree that all children have different personalities and strengths and weaknesses. But I also believe that I have something to do with how great they are, and in turn, how lucky I am. I work hard! I spend a lot of time teaching them, I spend a lot of time trying to make sure they feel loved, and I spend a lot of time making sure I follow through with what I want to happen (one that I struggle with is making sure they practice piano or do a chore in the afternoon, because honestly, it would be easier or faster a lot of time to not fight it, or to do it myself, or to let them play so that I can have some time to myself). I have high expectations of my children, and I hold them to that. I don't think I am mean about it--as in a yelling, forceful way--but I am strict about it, hopefully in an explaining, helpful, way. This is not to say that I am always patient or that I do everything right--trust me, I am very aware of my failings as a mother, and I'm always trying to do better. Luckily, I think kids are very forgiving. I should also mention that my kids are not perfect, either. They struggle and make mistakes and so do I. Anyway, I do have good kids, and they each have different personalities, and we work together to become good people. I am lucky to have them, and I hope that they feel lucky to have me.

And finally, I wanted to share a bit about their different personalities.

Logan is my cautious, wants to do everything right, very sensitive child. He learns very quickly, and he likes having rules. He loves to help others. He hates to be wrong.

Madison is my social child. She loves words. She finds power in words--talking or writing. She makes friends easily, and she instinctively knows how to pull people to her. Her artistic creativity is coming out.

Grant likes to role-play. He loves to dress up and pretend to be a superhero. He wants to be brave and strong. When in a big group he tends to become quiet. At home is my wilder child--at school and church he is the quiet one. This worries me a little bit, and I am trying to come up with ways to strengthen his confidence. He has a lot of potential, but often gets overlooked because he is the 3rd child.

Ammon is my cuddly flirt. He gets people's eyes and makes funny faces for them. He understands almost everything we say, and he is wonderful at following directions. I hope this is a forever thing!

This Boy

The fourth child. The baby. Joe's mini-me. Ammon.

I already put this on facebook, but I wanted to add a little more of the story for journaling's sake.

This morning Joe took out the trash and I rushed the kids to school. Then Grant, Ammon, and I spent our morning running errands and then at the grocery store. Then we went to eat lunch with Madison, after which we dropped Grant off at preschool. (Luckily, it is a rare colder day in Texas--39 degrees this morning--so I was able to leave the groceries in the car for about an hour.)

After we drop Grant off, Ammon and I usually come home, read a book, and then Ammon takes a nap. Today I had to put away groceries before we could get to our book, and of course, Ammon was in the kitchen helping me.

As we were finishing up, I noticed that he had a plastic Walmart bag. He went over to the garbage can and put that bag in, hooking the edges on the sides perfectly. And then he put the garbage can back under the sink!

Needless to say, I was impressed. He is one smart, observant and coordinated boy!

We are Grateful!

Oh  my, it's been a while! The McGregor's have been busy celebrating birthdays, getting through holidays, watching soccer games, throwing up (not me, knock on wood), getting done every-day stuff, and laughing as much as we can. Here are a few highlights, in no particular order.

Halloween. 

Logan's birthday (how to turn this?)

disguises

Joe's note to Madison's teacher

fruit-loving, fruit-sneaking boy

fruit-loving, fruit-sneaking boy with a haircut

Tom Turkey on his 5th year displaying all we are grateful for. My favorite is Madison's "grateful for a family who is grateful for me." And Joe is grateful for legs that work. . . and his sexy wife. ;) 

Madison won second place in a district-wide art competition.

Madison says it takes 10 minutes to clean up her extra-dirty house. 

Forts, forts, and more forts. At least Ammon can get away with using a dish towel as a blanket.

Logan and Mom went on the third grade field trip to the Dallas Aquarium. The best part is watching the sharks during feeding time. Ug. 

Now we are looking forward to celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ. We feel His love everyday, and we feel so very blessed to have each other. We truly are grateful!

Table Talk

I love hot breakfasts, and I don't care for cold cereal. But since Joe started teaching seminary at 6:00 a.m. every morning, we have been eating cold cereal at least once a week. The kids happen to love cold cereal: it is fast, the kids eat it quickly and without complaint, and the boxes inspire a game they call "nutrition facts."

The kids each take a box and ask, "How many calories? How many sodiums?" You get the idea.

This morning, Madison looks at her "Kix," box and asks, "How many coppers?"

Grant, cute boy that he is, shouts, "Sixty!"

Madison gasps and says, "Ohhhh! Grant said S-E-X!"

Joe and I look at each other, trying not to laugh.

Logan says, "No, he said 'sexy.'"

The kids were kind of laughing and joking, and Joe and I were trying to be serious, and I said, "This isn't really something we should be laughing about. Do you know what the word 'sex' means?"

Quiet.

"Madison?"

"No."

"Logan?"

"No."

I look at Joe, because he was the one assigned to give Logan the talk when he turned 8. Joe nods his head to me, reaffirming that, yes, Logan should know what the word 'sex' means.

"Logan, do you remember when Dad took you to the pet store and you talked about how babies were made?"

Logan nods "yes."

"That is what sex is."

With big eyes and a red face, Logan ducks his head under the table.

I look at Madison and ask her something about hearing the word sex at school.

She looks at me very straight-faced and says, "I didn't say s-e-x, I said s-O-x."

Joe and I are having a very hard time holding it in right now.

"Madison, we know that isn't what you spelled. It's ok, we want to talk about it."

"I don't even know how babies are made!"

"Well, you know it takes a mommy and a daddy, right? They each have a special part that they use to make babies. It is something very special, and we don't make jokes about it. You know what? We will have to talk about this sometime when we aren't going to be late for school."

Grant pipes in, "I said 'SIXTY!'"


And this, my friends, is why families should eat together.


Also, it looks like we will be having the talk a little earlier than originally anticipated.

This is an old pic, but I was trying to find one of our table, and I found this, and it was almost as funny as what happened this morning. 

being a girl is hard

This is one of those topics that I've wanted to talk about for a long time, but it's not an easy one to bring up.

Also, for the record, being a boy is probably hard too, but I just don't know very much about it, as I am not a boy. Maybe that is why Heavenly Father gave me 3 little boys. Or maybe it is so I can teach them right, so that some other girl's life doesn't have to be so hard.

I have always assumed that other women have had similar experiences to those that I have had. I realize this may or may not be true, but I do know that as I have opened up to others, and as I have come to know more people, that my experiences are not unique or uncommon.

I think it is safe to say that all girls feel at times that they are unattractive, or ugly. Without doubt, we all have physical features that that take us longer to embrace and love.

I can remember a specific moment in time that took place in ninth grade, after 4th period, and before lunch. I went to the girl's bathroom, and as I washed my hands and looked into the mirror, I felt so incredibly sad that people had to look at me. I remember wiping the silent tears off my cheeks, honestly feeling that I must be the ugliest person that God had ever created.

As an adult, I've wondered from where this self-hatred came. Hormones? Physical changes that I didn't understand? Uncertainty in my purpose of life? I have no doubt that those are real contributors to why adolescence is so difficult. But there were also the comments: how small my chest was. Where my chest was placed on my body. Shoe size. How clothes fit. How my hair looked. The amount of makeup I wore. These comments usually (although not always) came from boys. Of course, there are always the comments we hear about other girls: chest sizes, bottoms, legs, clothing, what they were willing to do. You know the comments, you've heard them.

It is not hard to understand that a girl quickly assumes that the only thing that gives her value is how she looks, or doesn't look. Also, if a girl wants attention, she should act ditzy, because then people will laugh and make comments about the girl's silliness. I've often wondered if my increased seriousness is a result of my pretended ditziness.

I ran cross-country in high school. I felt flattered when I figured out that the boys would run with me, and then hold back just a little so that they could watch me run in front of them. I am embarrassed just thinking about it.

Luckily, I made it through those ugly teenage years, and I met a wonderful man who reminds me daily of not only how beautiful I am, but also my intelligence and all that I am capable of doing. (Although, he did question my intelligence when, just a few weeks ago, I told him about my moment in the girl's bathroom. I guess boys really don't understand. :)

Not long ago, I took Logan to a plastic surgeon to have the stitches taken out of his eyelid. The office was filled with pictures of gorgeous women with little notes about how plastic surgery could lift eyebrows, tuck wrinkly skin, fatten cheeks and chins, enlarge lips, nip off a little of one's nose. I have to admit, I started thinking about what changes I would make: the nose, most definitely. And wider cheekbones. And. . . And. . .


 (I am including this picture because it shows my nose in profile, which I have not-so-fondly termed my hook nose. Grant happens to have my nose, and I apologize to him for this misfortune more often that I'd like to admit.)

Last week some of you saw my facebook post about leg-shaving. I'm ok with shaved legs, but I admit, I always have that nagging feeling, making me wonder if I am shaving my legs because of my insecurities, or for someone else who would judge me by my appearance. The only one I should shave my legs for is me. (I guess I am ok with shaving my legs for Joe, too, but he darn well better love me no matter what!) Does that make sense?

My little Madison, at age 7, has been hiding her legs for the past year, at least, because she is embarrassed of her hairy legs. A classmate made a comment. Recently she has started to ask me if she looks fat. I have to admit: I'm scared. I don't want her to feel how I felt. I don't want her to feel like she needs to compromise herself in anyway to find acceptance and love from her peers. And I don't want my insecurities to play a role (surely she takes note every time I say something about how gross I look, or my own hairy legs, or the belly fat I try to hide).

I do not want my sons to make some foolish comment that will make a girl question her worth.

I don't know how to solve this, except to make people aware, and to teach our children. Teach them that they are beautiful exactly as they are. And to help them find ways to feel value in who they are--in their talents, their intelligence, and in the knowledge that they are God's own royal offspring. To teach them that we don't judge people, especially by what they look like--and most definitely, "if you can't say anything nice, then don't say anything at all."  Talk. Listen to your children and form a bond of trust so that when something happens (and it will) they will come to you and talk. 

They really do love each other

 Two blog posts in one week. Whoa!

I think it is very important to note that, despite the fighting and yelling that seem to be so common-place in our home, our kids might actually care for each other.

Examples from Friday:

1. Madison and Logan's school is closer than Grant's school, and they get home about 10 minutes before he does. Everyday, Grant gets home and asks if he beat the big kids home from school--and every day he is disappointed. When the kids got home on Friday they came in for their after-school snacks as usual, and I got my shoes on to go wait at Grant's bus stop. Logan and Madi whispered together for a minute, grabbed their backpacks, and hid in the backyard. Grant and I walked in the house and Grant asked, "Did I beat Madi and Logan?" Right on cue, Madi and Logan walked in the door with surprised looks and words like, "What? You beat us home?" Grant squealed in delight and kept saying, "Can you believe it?!" That was the first thing he told Dad when he came home, too. Needless to say, I was touched by their small act of love for Grant.

2. Madison got to take a stuffed animal to school on Friday. She chose a pink bunny. As she walked in the door of our home that afternoon, she burst into tears saying, "Someone on the bus told me that my bunny was stupid." Logan rushed over to her side and gave her a hug. He asked, "Who said that? Was it _______? Well, he's wrong. Everyone thought your bunny was so cute. You chose a good animal to take to school." Again, I was thankful for this act of kindness. This is not the first time Logan has come to Madison's defense, and I hope they can continue to confide in each other throughout their teenage years.

3. Madison had soccer practice Friday evening, and dad was home in time, so we all went to practice together. When it was time to go, Grant hopped in the car first and therefore had the seat of his choice. Madison was furious, and she started whining and crying--and absolutely refused to sit in another seat. In a very nice voice, Dad asked Madison to come talk to him on the sidewalk. I didn't know what was said at the time, but apparently he told her she had the choice of choosing a different seat or walking home. Madison started walking (this sounds a lot like her mother). Dad shut the van doors, climbed in, and put the van in reverse. Grant started bawling, saying, "Nooooo! Don't leave her!! Please don't leave her!!" Madison, seeing that the car was backing up, turned and sprinted back. Grant, still crying, said, "Madi, please go home with us. You can have my seat." I think we all felt this was a successful lesson.

4. Let's not forget Ammon (and although this probably did happen on Friday, it is not a specific incident). Ammon has been trying to fit in with the big kids, and one of the ways he gets attention from them is to bite them. He has been spending a few minutes on the naughty floor everyday. Anyway, after doing something naughty and then spending his 1 minute in time-out, we get down to his level, look him in the eye, and say something like, "Ammon, biting is not nice. You hurt Grant. No biting. Go tell Grant that you are sorry." Ammon, looking very penitent, goes over to the person he offended and gives him or her a big hug. (It really is very adorable.) The hurt child hugs Ammon back and instantly forgives little brother.

And finally, I want to note that not only is the pantry clean. . . but the garage is clean!! We could even  park in it! The problem is that there is no garage door opener, which makes opening the garage door a huge pain. :( Anyway, I bought shelving Lowes, we worked together to tidy up the garage, and it looks wonderful! Towards the end, Madison found some big papers that came from the shelving box, and she asked me if she could have them. Of course, I said yes. And I'm so glad I did! This is what she did with them:

Notice Joe's crown, and the rest of us in a row.

Dad Thank you for all the hard work you dun for us! You are great! Who is the best? You are! The best dad ever! You are made for me! Love it! That's right!

Mom thank you for all the hard work you dun for us! You are the best! I love you! You are a mom! Better than anyone! That's right!

Notice that I am holding the baby Ammon, also, all the peace signs. 

Joe said he got a little emotional reading his sign. 

Truly, being part of a family is a wonderful, wonderful experience. 

Family of 6, or, Proof

In today's world, a family of six seems pretty big. In the Mormon world, a family of six is pretty normal. But sometimes I wonder who in the world gave me permission to be in charge of the souls of FOUR children?

Anyway. A family of six can do a many things together. Some of those things include food ingestion (lots and lots of food), and inevitable unorganization.

Today I am documenting that my pantry is FULL and ORGANIZED.


I can promise you that it won't stay that way for very long.

This food will go fast! 

Earlier in the week I went into panic mode as I started reading about how groceries and gas are supposed to increase significantly this month. Lots of people=lots of groceries=lots of $$$ (hence the Aldi off-brand everything). Joe and I talked, and we agreed that we needed to follow our prophet's advice and prepare for the future in the form of food storage. We got on the LDS Provident Living site and decided we should see what it would take to have 3 months of food storage for our family of six.

Just the very, very basics include:



600 lbs of grain (eeks!)
80 lbs of legumes (I think we would all have stomach issues if this were our only protein source!)
40 lbs of dairy
80 lbs of sugar
8 lbs of leavening (very doable)
8 lbs of salt (this I can definitely do!)
40 lbs of fats

Let's be honest--that's a lot of food. And it isn't going to be that fulfilling if that is all we are eating for 3 months!

Those buckets are filled with wheat, rice, and oats. . . but probably less than 200 pounds worth. 

It is all a little overwhelming, really. So we filled up the pantry (and the deep freeze, but no pic) and we set a date to go to the cannery next month.

I think we can fit a little more in there. . . maybe? We are definitely going to have to get creative with food-storage space around the house. :)

Oh, and did you know that if something terrible should happen, even Ammon would be able to feed himself? He knows right where the cereal is, where his milk is, and he can get to both. However, this does mean a mess for mom is she isn't paying close attention. :/

How do you do food storage?

True stories:

So I'm playing single mamma this week. :( But it's just for a week, right? Well, 10 days--but I can DO this!

Sunday: Joe went to China. Did church alone. It went ok. Grant fell asleep on his friends in primary. 

Monday: Grant threw up at the table just as we are sitting down to eat breakfast. He throws up again right be fore we go to take the kids to school.

Tuesday: I knew it was going to be a hectic night: 5:00 soccer practice for Madi, 6:00 3rd grade meeting at the school, 6:30-8:00 soccer practice for Logan. I tell the kids if they get through the night ok then we will have ice cream when we get home. 1 minute later, as I am backing out of the driveway I hear yelling and crying. 

Me: WHAT is going on???

Madi: Grant hit me with his thermos! 

Grant: Madi spit at me. 

Me: So sad. No ice cream.

Practice one goes ok. We get to the school, which is supposed to have babysitting. They tell me the big kids play in the gym, the little kids go to the art room. I explain that the baby will do much better if he has a sibling. I drop everyone off and head to the classroom. 50 minutes later I return to find a screaming Ammon and a crying Grant. Apparently it is not so cool abandoned in a strange place with strange people. 

We arrive at practice two 30 minutes late. It goes ok.

On the way home (at 8:00--bedtime) I tell the kids that if they hurry and get showered and dressed for bed, then they can have a banana bar and milk (we ate dinner at 4 and had been out running around in 90 degree weather for 3 hours, they had to be starving). I hand Logan the keys to the house. I get in the house to see Madison and Logan kicking each other and calling each other names. 

Me: Welp, you just lost the banana bars. You may have a glass of milk.

Crying and gnashing of teeth for the next 30 minutes. By Madison and Grant. But mostly Madison. There may have been some voluntary head banging on the walls. GEESH!

Wednesday: I've been looking forward to this day. No soccer. No meetings at school. I scheduled an appointment at a car shop because the van had been making a funny noise.

OK, quick side story. Last week I spent two days at the car place because 1. I had to get the car inspected and 2. the Noise. They didn't diagnose the problem until the end of the day, so Joe went in to pick up the car and find out what was up. The mechanics saw his "BYU Law" shirt and immediately said to each other that they had to be careful because he was a lawyer. Then they said it was highly unlikely, but legally they needed to tell him that the worse case scenario was that my tires would BREAK OFF while driving!!! Joe explained that he would be out of town for a week. . . would it be ok for a week? Probably, but no promises. Sounds GOOD!

So anyway, I arranged with some friends to drop our other car off at the car place so I could drop the van off, switch car seats, and then drive the car home. 

The car wouldn't start. 

Seriously. I can't even make this stuff up. So I go back in there and hand them my car keys and explain that they are going to make a bundle of money off of me today. They feel bad for this mom with 2 kids (they don't know that there are actually FOUR kids!) at 8:00 am, so they have someone come look at it right then. It's just the battery. Whew! So I walk next door and buy a $120 battery and it takes about 5 minutes for the mechanic to fix it "for free." Not really, because he kept my battery that I could have gotten a $20 refund for, but oh well. At that point I just wanted to get out of there.

(I just heard back from said car shop. Along with the $100 I spent last week to diagnose the problems, it is going to cost me another $500 to get everything fixed. I guess it could be worse, much worse, but I can think of a lot of things to spend $750 on!)

So.... It seems to me that when Joe goes out of town, there is some crazy going on. It might be funny. Like in a year from now. 

I do have to acknowledge that it could have been worse. I mean, Grant only threw up twice. And since he hadn't eaten for 12 hours, it wasn't really that bad. Knock on wood, but no one else has gotten sick. And the car? What better place to be stuck than at a car shop? And friends? I had several friends ready to come and pick me up and cart me around town. A good friend even brought us a delicious dinner and a stack of paper plates and boxes of plastic ware! So my life is still pretty good. Baby, I've GOT this! 

Any bets for what will happen tomorrow?