I'm a rapper!

OK- wrapper.  Baby wrapper, to be specific.   

One would assume by the third baby, I'd have a routine set in place, know what I like, and how to handle the whole new baby experience.  You know what they say about people who assume!

With each new baby, things change.  Circumstances have obviously changed.  I now have three kids instead of two.  That's definitely challenging.  I still don't feel comfortable in those shoes, as my messy house and worn out husband can say.  Shout out to my DH who although is now back to work, still takes on a huge chunk of the household chores.  He's a dreamboat, I know. 

Products change.  Because just about every baby item we owned was in some shade of pink, we had to get a few new things.  To my surprise the same things I used with the girls aren't the same anymore.  Even my favorite brand of binkys (mam) have changed their design.  There are also new products to try out.  I'm a shopper, and baby things are a special favorite of mine to buy, so I find this part of having a new little one fun!

I always liked the theory of front packs and slings. 

1. You can keep your baby close to you all the time
2. Baby is comforted and happy being so close to mom, and less likely to cry or act colicky 
3. Your hands are free

I've had two different slings, and haven't managed any of the above.  I never felt confident my baby wouldn't tumble out, and the whole experience felt awkward.  Front packs strain my back and neck, and make me feel achy and cramped after 30 minutes or so of use. 

Enter my latest discovery in the world of baby products- the Moby Wrap

I love my new Moby wrap.  It's a simple design, basically a long piece of stretchy knit cotton.  If you're ambitious enough you could probably make your own.  I'm not ambitious enough.  I paid for my lack of ambition, as this company charges a lot for a long piece of stretchy cotton, but I'm so happy with this wrap,  I don't mind!  The link will show how exactly to wrap it around you and how baby fits in, but it's not complicated.  Benjamin feels secure, and I really can use both my hands.  He likes being snuggled close to me, and fell asleep pretty quickly once he was tucked in.  Best of all, his weight is distributed well on my back.  It's not tugging on just my shoulders, neck, etc.  I don't feel sore or achy, and I've had it on for a few hours.  I'm actually typing this entry while wearing it!  Ben is still sleeping comfortably, snuggled against my chest.  I'm now a wrapper!  I may change my tune as he gets bigger and heavier, although the workout will be good for me.  The little pamphlet that came with the wrap even illustrates exercises I can do while wearing my baby.  I haven't tried them yet, but plan to! 

 Here's the wrap from the front.  Merrylee's stretched hand is right where I tied the ends of the fabric at my right hip. 

 Here you can see  how the fabric crosses on my back, helping distribute Benjamin's weight well. 

Here's a closer view of his little face peeking out.  However I have the best view.  I can glance down and see his cheek resting on his tiny hands, and easily kiss the top of his head, all while doing the dishes, vacuuming, or playing wii.

Baby, completely, wrapped up in you

I wish I was good at telling stories, because this is great story, and deserves to be told well.  Sometimes I can describe something well, when I've had time to think, plan, and rewrite a few times.  Right now however I hardly have time to eat, so I'm afraid a quick summary and spellcheck are all the effort I have time for.  fyi, I will occasionally use the acronym "DH" for "dear husband" to simplify a little.   

June 9, 2011
I had a routine OB appointment, at 35 weeks into my pregnancy.  Things looked healthy and normal.  My cervix was dilated to 1", but that's not uncommon at 35-36 weeks along.  My doctor said all that meant is "you probably wont deliver this week". 

Ok.  "Probably." 

I took that with a grain of salt, and a bit of worry, as my husband wasn't due home from his deployment for a little over a week.  I would have rather heard news that I was showing no signs of labor at all.  I didn't want a "your baby probably wont come before your husband does", I wanted a guarantee.  Life offers no such thing. 

I visited a few friends, and complained I was getting a little worried.  I emailed my DH, giving him the details of the appointment.  He responded the way he had been lately, with promises that he'll get home on time.  The promises felt empty to me, and made me feel frustrated.  He's not the type to give empty promises.  I knew he didn't want me to worry, and worrying can actually bring on stress and early labor, but still, I felt I needed to mentally prepare for the possibility I'd be delivering my baby alone.  Promises that that wouldn't happen when I knew it very well could, weren't comforting to me.

Fast forward to about midnight.  The girls were in bed, and I was up re-reading Breaking Dawn.  It was a nice distraction, and I was waiting to video chat with my DH, who said he'd be online around that time.  I heard the ring of the video call, and came to sit at the computer.  We talked a little about my appointment, and he again started reassuring me he'd be there on time.  That brought my concerns a little closer to the surface than I'd hoped, and I started to cry, asking him why he kept promising something he couldn't be sure about.  Deployments are hard on both of us, and I try to make a sincere effort not to cry on the phone or on video chats.  It doesn't make for a positive experience for either of us when that happens.  I try to save the tears for after we hang up.  This time though the pregnancy hormones and all my worry took over.

My DH smiled, and said he really wasn't making promises he couldn't keep.  I looked at him exasperated, wondering why I really had to explain how I can't control when the baby comes any more than he can control when he gets to come home.  He smiled again, and said, "what if I told you if you went into labor right now, I would be there?"

I stopped crying.  Again more smiles on his end, and he told me to come open the front door.  He was standing there holding his laptop, using our own wi-fi signal to chat with me from outside.  His commander let him come home early, and he thought it'd be a nice surprise if he shared that news by showing up at our door.  He was right.

June 10, 2011
The next morning, we discovered Daddy wasn't the only man in the family with surprises and early arrival plans.  I was feeling consistent contractions that weren't letting up.  Due to nesting urges I'd been having that week, my hospital bag was packed and ready, and I had made plans for our girls with friends.  Thanks to some sweet and amazing young women from church, my house was clean and spotless.  If my husband was caught off guard, he didn't show it.  No doubt still feeling the effects of jet lag, he dug through his deployment bags for a few toiletries, and we took off for the hospital. 

June 11, 2011, 1:57 am
Benjamin Scott arrived.  He was 4 1/2 weeks early, but weighed in at 6 lbs 2 oz, a healthy weight considering his premature timing.

We're all very tired and a little shell shocked, but happy to all be together.  Benjamin fits right in like he's always been here.  We love every tiny toe and finger.

Before I knew my husband would be coming home, I did a lot of praying and soul searching.  I did my very best to make peace with the idea that I could be on my own in that delivery room.  When I prayed about it, I felt peaceful, and a reassurance that if that happened, I'd have the strength and help I'd need.  Faith comes before the blessings.  I was grateful to know I could do it, and even more grateful when I found out I wouldn't have to.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go sit on the couch, maybe fall asleep on my husband's shoulder,  snuggle my baby, and enjoying being completely wrapped up and surrounded by the people I love most.  Moments like that shouldn't be taken for granted.         

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Belly Button out of Joint

I noticed today that my belly button is a little off.  I'm not talking about the usual protruding-through-her-tee- shirt look all pregnant women get eventually (or in my case, about two months along this pregnancy).  I mean it's off-center.  For most people, male or female, pregnant or not, their belly buttons point in the same direction as their noses.  Mine now points slightly to the right.  For whatever reason, I'm off balance, a little uneven, helter-skelter, disheveled, off-sided, unsymmetrical, disproportionate, lopsided . . . I've got more! 

Perhaps the muscles on one side of my belly are more elastic than the other.  Maybe it's the way Benjamin is positioned.  Is it possible my navel has always been that way, but it takes a third pregnancy for me to notice?  The world may never know, and is most likely to never care.  I only mention it at all, because it seems to be a pretty accurate parallel to how I'm feeling.  The "of course" last-straw element that explains my mood.  We all have those little things.  The bad day you knew was coming, and naturally begins with you dropping your bowl of cereal onto your lap.  It happens, we sigh, look towards the heavens, and call the little event a "sign".  Then we move on with whatever trial we knowingly had scheduled.

I knew it'd be hard being so pregnant with my husband deployed.  Nothing has come as a surprise.  My evening heartburn kicks in about the same time my four-almost-five-year-old has a break down and starts screaming, and my two-year-old tells me she's had a potty training accident, again.  The exhaustion, the achey muscles, the too-frequent doctor's appointments, which mean babysitters, and driving, and waiting, all for a 5 minute examination and a "see ya in a few weeks" diagnosis, were to be expected.  It's funny how the knowledge that this is exactly how it'd be doesn't really make it easier. 

I know what you're thinking.

"But you're almost done!"
"Your husband will come home soon!"
"You're almost full term!"
"You're so close, aren't you happy it's almost over?"

No.  Because it's not over.  "Almost" brings no relief.  Why is it that?  Why is the last lap the hardest?  Theoretically it shouldn't be.  After so much effort, the last little bit should seem like nothing.  Yet we know from experience it's nothing like "nothing".  Think of something physically challenging you've done, and think about how you felt when you were almost done.  Did you suddenly have an extra burst of energy, and found it was over quickly, leaving you with a glorious feeling of accomplishment?  If you did, you have a special talent for glamorizing the past.

I remember climbing a mountain while my husband and I were still dating.  I saw the first of our group reach the top, and I sighed, thinking of my aching, trembling knees.  The advanced hikers were only about 20 minutes ahead of us, and yet those 20 minutes dragged on like the slow drip of a leaky faucet.  I kept myself going by imagining the incredible view we'd have at the top.  By the time I reached it however, I was so tired, I hardly looked around.  It was pretty, breathtaking even, if my breath hadn't already been taken by the extreme effort it took to get there.  Usually when we finish something difficult, the strongest emotion is relief rather than triumph.  Triumph comes later, after we've recovered somewhat, and suppressed the memory of the pain.

I think I've done this deployment routine too many times.  Perhaps so much that I've trained myself to expect the last few weeks to feel like they're the longest.  For so many obvious reasons, I'm tired, I'm off balanced, not straight, ready to fall over.  The future brings nothing but relief and good things, and all I can think about is how I'm not there yet.

So what is the answer to this part-of-life dilemma?  It's as obvious as my off-centered protruding navel in my those-don't-fit-anymore-because-I'm-in-my-last-month maternity tops. 

Keep pluggin' away.

I'm the old man with the ladder from the children's story Tikki Tikki Tembo. "Step over step, step over step, step over step"

I'm Dori from Disney's Finding Nemo. "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming"    

I'm the blue engine from The Little Engine that Could. "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!"

One day finished is one day closer to the end.  Yesterday I cleaned the house after a week of being sick.  Well, except for the bathrooms, which are still gross, and the laundry that still needs to be put away and the last load folded.  I did finish the vacuuming though. 

Today is my parents' 29th anniversary!  They are living proof that love survives hardship.  Proud parents of five, and even happier grandparents of almost four, they have much to celebrate.  This whole "never giving up even when it's hard" thing works.  I know it does.  I'm not giving up.  I'm just complaining a little.  Beneath my verbose complaints does lie a true attempt at optimism.  My hormones are in overdrive (shocking, huh?) and I've felt overdue for a date.  What better day than today?  29 years ago today my parents made a sacred commitment to each other, and although still watching from above, to me.  I couldn't go on a real date, obvoiusly.  So I did what I could think of as "the next best thing".  I put on makeup, and since we missed church last Sunday due to yucky colds, that was a first in over a week and half.  I dressed as nicely as possible considering the watermelon tummy.  I put on the necklace my mom gave me for Christmas, and the earrings my husband gave me before he deployed for the holidays.  I even brushed and styled Anny's hair, for which she was not grateful even though it did look cute.  We had a delicious lunch at Wendys.  The service was pathetic, we waited for our "fast food" for 15 minutes, and I had to go back to the counter 4 times for items they forgot to give us.  However they have a new berry salad, it's very good.  I purchased tickets to that great romantic comedy Kung Fu Panda II.  The movie was silly . . . ok, stupid, but we still had a good time.  Evening is now approaching, which will bring on the bedtime routine, and one more day to tick off. 

I wonder if the little blue engine would have made it if she were expecting, and carrying a few cute little blue cars of her own?  Perhaps the broken down circus train wouldn't have asked her for help.  Nah- who am I kidding?  Of course they would have asked!  They would have taken one look at her, observed her overflowing coal car and little blue cabooses in tow, seen she was a train with hidden strength, unafraid of a challenge, and known she'd say "yes".     



Did you note the airplane in the background?  He's also symbollic to my life, and definitely belongs in the picture.  I think ya'll can figure out how without my addition of another paragraph or three to this post.   



 



    

At Berry Picking Time

We visited a you-pick-it Strawberry farm with friends last week.  It was an hour long car drive, but worth every minute!  I can't believe we've never tried something like this before.  The berries were very red, very ripe, and incredibly delicious.  Unfortunately they may have ruined store berries forever for me, because, as with all farm fresh fruit, when you've tasted what it's like ripe off the plant/tree, there's just no comparison.  Anny did most of our picking, with a little help from little sister, although once Merrylee knew she could eat the berries, her contribution to the basket decreased considerably.  We came home with 10 lbs of strawberries, for just over $13.  It was by far one of the most fun things I've done with the girls.  That, and we came home with 10 lbs of strawberries!  Next month is the season for blueberries! 

Before I put up my montage of strawberry wonderfulness- here's a few photos of the girls' finished room.  Anny has graduated to a big girl bed, Merrylee to the toddler bed, thus freeing up the crib for Benjamin.  We added more pink to the curtains, and matching comforters.  When the sun comes through those curtains, the entire room glows pink.  It's a happy place to be. 

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And what does one do with 10 lbs of fully ripe strawberries, you ask?  Well, after a little munching, I made 6 jars of freezer jam, 22 strawberry muffins (not all shown here, they were too good to all make it for the photo) plus 6 cups leftover for a butter cookie topped cobbler tomorrow as a mothers day dessert.

Singing Singing all the Day

"I'm small I know, but wherever I go, the grass grows greener still . . ."

It's a bit of a challenge to keep the household running smoothly while in my third trimester, Daddy away, and two little ones at home.  We've kept busy with what we can.  Here's some small things we've been doing:

• decorating Benjamin and the girls' rooms (photos to be posted of both in a later entry)
• playing with visiting family
• sewing a baby quilt for Benjamin (again, photos to be posted when it's finished)
• potty training Merrylee
• finishing up preschool activities and teeball
• making a coconut cake for Easter
• enjoying an Easter meal and egg hunt with friends
• visiting the beach (and bringing home much of the sand)

It's a short list of seemingly inconsequential things, easily glazed over.  However those small things keep my small family happy while Daddy's on another "big trip". 

I like to imagine the metaphor of a family on a hike.  The husband and wife share the load of supplies while the children skip along the sandy pathway of scattered flowers, pausing to pick a few, and place them sweetly in their shining hair.  For the parents the path turns uphill, muddy, and lonely as they hit the fork in the road that temporarily separates Daddy from the family.  As he disappears around the corner the mother is tempted to slow down, drag her feet, or even sit down on the side of the path and cry.  By resisting that urge and giving away of herself, for the children the path continues to be the same light, easy, and flowered walk it's always been, and the mother is rewarded with happy sounds of them singing, singing, all the way.  Listening to those sweet and pleasant voices makes it easier for her to keep moving, and even notice an occasional blossom or two of her own.  Their steps are small, limited to the short strides of the little ones; their progress slow and unrushed by lots of potty breaks, pauses to look at caterpillars, smell flowers, and gaze at every pretty bird or butterfly along the way.  The seasoned and strong hikers who pass them by may wonder why they are making the trip at all, as it seems they wont ever get very far.  However the maker of the path smiles upon the scene, and sees that wherever they go, the grass grows greener still.       

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I'm grateful for our Savior, Jesus Christ, who lived a perfect life of giving and service.  He gave us his life, and like him we will live again after death.  He atoned for our sins, giving us the ability to repent, and find happiness despite our imperfections and mistakes.  This Easter we celebrate our love for him, and renew our efforts to follow his example.  He will guide us through every step we take on his path, make our burdens light, and open our eyes to the beauty that surrounds us on our way.    

“Give,” Said the Little Stream, Children’s Songbook of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 236


Cheerfully

1. “Give,” said the little stream,
“Give, oh! give, give, oh! give.”
“Give,” said the little stream,
As it hurried down the hill;
“I’m small, I know, but wherever I go
The grass grows greener still.”

Chorus
Singing, singing all the day,
“Give away, oh! give away.”
Singing, singing all the day,
“Give, oh! give away.”

2. “Give,” said the little rain,
“Give, oh! give, give, oh! give.”
“Give,” said the little rain,
As it fell upon the flow’rs;
“I’ll raise their drooping heads again,”
As it fell upon the flow’rs.

3. Give, then, as Jesus gives,
Give, oh! give, give, oh! give.
Give, then, as Jesus gives;
There is something all can give.
Do as the streams and blossoms do:
For God and others live.

Words: Fanny J. Crosby, 1820–1915
Music: William B. Bradbury, 1816–1868. Arr. © 1989 IRI

You may see the music and listen to the traditional version of this song here

Deuteronomy  16:17
17 Every man shall give as he is able, according to the blessing of the Lord thy God which he hath given thee.

Root for the home team!

How do you get a very girly little four year old excited about Teeball?  Two very important steps:

1.  Buy every accessory possible in pink
2. Let a very excited Daddy motivate her 

What more can a girl ask for in a sport than a helmet like that, and an amazing Dad?!

How to Charm Your Daddy 101

Granted Merrylee was already at an advantage, since Daddy just got home and hadn't seen her in awhile, so just about everything the girls do make him smile. Still though, this time, she had him nailed.

The girls were changing into their pajamas with Daddy's help. I had plans to do laundry (failed plans) so the baskets were in the laundry room. Rather than start a pile of clothes on the floor where the basket should be, Dad handed Merrylee their dirty clothes to go carry into the laundry room. Merrylee doesn't like being by herself in any part of the house, so I could smell an excuse coming. Our neighbors have dogs we can sometimes hear barking. A common excuse for Merrylee not to be alone or sent somewhere is "I'm scared of the puppies".

That one works on me sometimes, because I'm actually a little afraid of their puppies too.  Unlike Merrylee however, I do find more comfort in our walls and closed doors, and am a little past jumping at the mere sound of their bark.  That comes with years of practice I guess! 

Tonight, knowing her audience, Merrylee changed her excuse. Hearing the cannon boom of practicing AC-130's in the distant airfields, she started walking to the laundry room, then ran back into the bedroom, looked innocently up into Daddy's face and said, "I don't wanna see a gunship."

A surprised look came over Daddy's face, and instead of rolling his eyes and telling her that was silly (and obviously manipulative) he smiled at her, gave me a quick "aren't our girls amazing?!!" look and said, "Ok Merrylee, I'll walk with you, because you're so cute."

He then on their way to the laundry room kindly explained she has nothing to fear about the gunships, and that they're on her side. I'm sure she's very reassured, and will never use such an excuse again. Never ever, not when it worked so well...

Hippie Night

Monday evenings are in a way just as sacred as the sabbath to LDS families.  However instead of forgetting all worldly cares, and dedicating ourselves to a day of rest and worship as we do on Sundays, we set all else aside, and focus on our families.  Church buildings are locked and dark, and our temples are closed.  We are discouraged from holding parties, receptions, showers, and other get togethers that would distract from family time, or pull someone away from home.  We're even discouraged from signing up our children with sports teams, music groups, or anything else that would regularly meet on a Monday evening.  Monday nights are for the family, and what could possibly be more important than a consistent, regular family meeting time?

We call these special weekly meetings Family Home Evening, or FHE for short.  I was privileged to grow up in a family that never missed a single FHE.  Occasionally my dad's job would keep him working late or out of town, but my mom then directed our family evenings herself.  We sang songs, read from the scriptures, had gospel lessons, ate treats, and enjoyed being together.  Sometimes we'd go out to the movies as a family, or play flashlight games outside.  Parents, brothers, and sisters became an audience to preform dance routines, a new song learned on a musical instrument, or a poem memorized at school.  We also used that time to discuss important events, and make family decisions.  Some of my most treasured childhood memories are from a common Monday night practice in our home, where during "treat time" at the end of FHE, my Dad read aloud stories or chapters from funny books.  We'd laugh until we were at risk of choking or spitting out chocolate brownie, and were always sad when the story or chapter was over, and we had to get ready for bed.  Even as a moody teenager, I looked forward to Monday nights.  It was an oasis of happiness, strategically placed at the start of a long and difficult week of high school. 

I remember when I was twelve, I had an opportunity to join an elite children's orchestra.  My violin teacher highly recommended the group, and my mother, being a music teacher herself, knew the experience would be a good opportunity for me.  However when we learned the group met on Monday evenings, there was no argument or pause.  I didn't have to fight with my mother, I simply knew, this wasn't something I would participate in.  She really wanted me to be a part of this group, but despite this disappointment, she didn't hesitate for a second, or rationalize that maybe we could switch the nights for family night.  We both knew right away, Monday nights are family nights, and being a great musician comes second to being together as a family. I didn't join the group. 

At the time that experience wasn't significant, because it was consistent with training I'd had all my life.  It didn't stand out as extraordinary to me.  I see now that it was.  I've realized it's my parents unfailing attitude and dedication to our family that has taught me where my priorities should be, and how to run my own family now.  The confidence I have in my family relationships has so much to do with that family night.  Our schedule of activities molded around family night, and not the reverse.  Tuesday through Saturday the world had claim on our time.  Nothing touched Monday nights, because there never was something else more important.   

I do not think there is a better way to demonstrate love to your family.  There are naturally other important things not to be neglected, such as kind words, patience, hard work, a listening ear, providing for essential needs, teaching discipline and moderation, keeping a clean and healthy home, the list goes on.  However I have witnessed the blessings of a regular family time that comes second to nothing else.  I was reminded every single Monday of the first eighteen years of my life that I was loved, and that being together as a family mattered.  Nothing shook our resolve.  Come what may, we'd be together that night.  I was never bitter or unhappy about that.  No one in my family was.  We wanted to be together.  What more could you want from life than to be together with your family? 

After that lengthy and slightly heavy description of a topic of obvious importance to me, you're probably wondering what on earth gave me the inclination to name this entry "hippie night"?  Well I can answer that!!!  My husband and I do hold FHE with our family.  After a perfect legacy and example set by my parents, how can we not?!!!  With Daddy's frequent deployments, its obvious to anyone how important a regular family meeting time would be.  Now, admittedly while Daddy is away and the girls are so little, holding FHE does feel a bit redundant, since we're together all day anyway.  However routine and memories start early, and I don't really have an excuse not to do something special on Mondays with my little sweeties.  Last night the girls and I had a "hippie night" together for our FHE.  Not really, but we did make homemade granola.  Then we formed a drum circle, sang "kum bi ya" . . . just kidding.  I'm much too conservative, and would probably offend most hippies by applying the term to myself.  We did make the granola though, and it was fun!!! 

We'd had a late lunch, and not having a hungry Daddy coming home from work to cook for makes our dinner routine a little more flexible.  Emma, my fabulous friend, who is a great mom, and a former professional chef, recommended this recipe for homemade granola.  As our "optional ingredients" we added dried cranberries and mini chocolate chips, half a cup each, and enjoyed bowls of freshly made granola for supper.  Both my girls, who are picky eaters, especially at supper time, gobbled it right up!!  It's of course tasty with fruit, or on ice cream or yogurt (so I hear anyway) but we ate it by itself like dry cereal.  We had so much fun making it and of course eating it together, I had to share both the experience and recipe.  A healthy, kid-friendly snack, that contains whole grains, fruit, protein, and no preservatives (since we made it at home ourselves!) is a rare find!! 

So- go start up a family night, and make some granola!!!  If you ever need ideas on what to do together, I'm your girl, as I've had a lifetime of experience on the subject.  Don't feel intimidated or tell yourself it's too late, your kids are too old, your lives too busy... because the way to make something like this work, is to set aside all excuses, get started, and don't stop.  You'll never truly have something better to do in place of this time, and you'll never miss what you sacrificed to be together.  Think about what in your heart is most important to you, and you'll know I'm right.  Not that I can take credit.  FHE wasn't my idea after all...

Little Brothers

Although the title may suggest otherwise, we did not recently find out we're expecting twin boys. I have had a "feeling" we're expecting a son. Usually my maternal instincts are wrong though, so we'll see.

This post is dedicated to not the future brothers of Anny and Merrylee, but rather to my little brothers, Peter and Joseph. The holidays came and went with the number one man in our lives overseas. Daddy's in the Air Force, so as Merrylee often says these days in her cute little toddler voice, "it happens".

Instead of moping around the house in FL, we were graciously invited to spend Christmas and New Years with my family in VA. I have to admit there wasn't a complete lack of moping there on my part, but my little brothers, who are both taller than me now and much much cooler, were awesome, fun, hilarious, friendly, cute, witty, charming, chivalrous, and tremendously adored by their little nieces. They truly made that visit special for us. I started making a list of some of the things they did to make our visit great, but the list seemed so incomplete and didn't clearly illustrate how extraordinary my brothers really are. From cleaning dirty diapers and throw-up (a lot of both) to demonstrating an endless supply of patience for chatter and princess games, they did it all and then some. They made me laugh when I was lonely, smile and forget I was nauseous . . . I'm afraid I'm at a loss in how to describe my gratitude to them. Perhaps my feelings are best demonstrated in song.



Uncle Joe and Uncle Pete, we love you both so so much, and miss you already. I feel very much like Candice in the video, the silly and obnoxious big sister who's only claim to fame is being related to and older than Phineas and Pherb. How am I related to such incredible guys as you two??!! Just lucky I guess!!

A humble two year old

We have an advent calendar the girls enjoy using at Christmastime.  It's the same calendar I used as a little girl.  The tradition is to fill each of the little pockets with York Peppermint Patties.  Each day of December before Christmas, the little mouse gets moved to a new pocket, and the peppermint pattie is split between participating siblings.  Anny actually remembered the calendar this year.  She had a fun time filling each of the pockets with peppermint patties as we got out our decorations, and had a bit of a tearful moment when one bag of mints only filled 22 of the pockets.  Thankfully she has an experienced mother, who plans ahead for these things.  I showed her the second bag I had bought, and she smiled, wiped the tears off her cheeks, and finished filling the pockets.  The extra mints lasted just a couple tasty days in our candy dish. 

Anny looks forward to her daily special duty of taking out the mint, splitting it with her sister, and moving the mouse into his new pocket.  Merrylee of course looks forward to this too, and doesn't seem to notice when her half of the mint is somehow a bit smaller than her sisters. 

This afternoon I was busy procrastinating some much needed house cleaning (still am as I write this post!) and doing some last minute online shopping.  Merrylee had dragged a stool into the pantry, and was trying to find herself a snack.  After refusing her various requests for christmas tree cakes and cookies, I finally just told her to stay out of the pantry.  A few minutes passed, and it got a little too quiet in the kitchen- usually a time when the "mommy sensors" go off.  I called for Merrylee, and recieved no response.  I got up to see what she was up to, and found her sitting at the kitchen table, taking a bite out of a peppermint pattie she had snuck out of the advent calendar.  She immediately looked up at me with a very guilty face.  Obviously no "she's too little to understand" excuse could be applied.  I told her "no" and reminded her those were special candies for our calendar.  She made a very humble and sad face, and looked at her toes.  A little hand containing the half eaten mint was rasied up towards me as she softly replied, "here Mama.  I don't want it anymore."

My heart melted, and not not wanting to ruin a perfect parenting moment, instead of smothering her with the huge snuggle I instantly craved, I took the candy, and wiped the chocolate off her fingers. 

I think we'll keep her. 

Anny of course wandered into the kitchen to see what was going on.  When I explained what had happened, Anny looked at Merrylee shocked and said incredulously, "How did she open it?!!" 

Anny has a bit of trouble opening candies, and even resorts to scissors on occasion.  I responded simply that Merrylee doesn't seem to have those same challenges.

Here's a photo of the little sweetheart, expressing the latest fashions for toddlers.  Looking at that little face, I wonder how we manage any sort of discipline at all.

Daughters in the Wilderness

When I am at my worst, I find strength through reading the scriptures.  I feel stronger at the core, and similar to the sensation of Tylenol after a fever, that strength spreads to the rest of me, and things seem easier.  Much of this is because spiritual feelings affect us physically.  Physically one can feel lighter, less lonely, and peaceful after reading the words of God and his prophets.

It is also no secret that blessings come from study and learning.  While studying biology, a better understanding of life is gained, as well as an appreciation for the world, it's beauty, creation, and our place in it's vast existence.  The mind is opened as the function of organisms is broken down to a cellular level.  Wonderment of the intricacy of a tiny plant, and all that goes on for it to survive, broadens how we view everything else.  New knowledge changes us, and how we think. 

The same phenomenon occurs through studying and searching the scriptures.  We gain a clearer understanding of God, and his will for us.  The scriptures provide examples of people who had trials, sorrow, and pain of their own.  Some of these people through their trials turned cold, bitter, and set a legacy of hatred, killing, and ignorance for generations of posterity.  Others faithfully and steadfastly turned to God throughout their trials.  They were hungry, and prayed for where to find food.  In danger from enemies, they prayed for where to flee to safety, or how to fight and save their families and freedom.  They made boats, crossed oceans and vast wildernesses, started new civilizations, created new governments, and built temples.

I study the scriptures, and feel physical blessings from the spiritual connection I feel with God.  I also feel the knowledge from the scriptures change how I think.  Compassion replaces frustration, as I think on experiences with my children during the day.  Patience replaces weariness when I look at the examples of other steadfast saints, with trials much greater than mine.

Such was the case as I stumbled upon a poster online, of a group of women who knew real trials, much greater than what I've had to bear.

Ancient prophet, Lehi, was warned by God of the impending destruction of his home city, Jerusalem.  God told him to take his family, and flee into the wilderness.  Lehi was a wealthy man, and years of travel without what were his "modern conveniences" that came with city living, I imagine was no small difficulty.  However he unquestioningly heeded God's warning.  His family left, and had a long and difficult journey.  That family included Lehi's sons and their families.  Children were conceived and born on that trek, yet they carried on.  Lehi had a copy of the scriptures.  He read to his family, and I know it gave them strength and direction.

The poster I found online is of the women of Lehi's family.  Daughters and wives, with babies on their hips, walking forward, steadfast with faith in their God shining in their eyes.  In the corner of the poster is a scripture, describing the experience of these women.

1 Nephi 17:1-3

1 ... And we did travel and wade through much affliction in the wilderness; and our women did bear children in the wilderness.

2 And so great were the blessings of the Lord upon us, that while we did live upon raw meat in the wilderness, our women did give plenty of suck for their children, and were strong, yea, even like unto the men; and they began to bear their journeyings without murmurings.

3 And thus we see that the commandments of God must be fulfilled. And if it so be that the children of men keep the commandments of God he doth nourish them, and strengthen them, and provide means whereby they can accomplish the thing which he has commanded them; wherefore, he did provide means for us while we did sojourn in the wilderness.

I read of these women, look in their eyes in the poster, and feel some of their strength pass to me.  These women loved their families.  They needed strength beyond what they were born with, so they could complete the great task before them.  Turning to God blessed them with what I know they desperately prayed for.  When we are on our knees with our most desperate prayers, aren't those prayers always about our families?  I imagine those women on their knees and in tears, pleading with God saying, "Please, help me feed my babies.  Help me wake up tomorrow, and keep moving.  Please give me strength to carry on, when on my own, I have none left".

God answered their prayers.  He gave them strength like men.  These city women, with soft, unchallenged bodies used to easy living and wealth, discovered they could live off of raw meat, travel while pregnant, give birth in the wilderness, and feed their children.

If God answered their prayers, is he not even more capable of helping me?  When I come to him through prayer, knowing my own strength has left, I know he can help me, just as he helped these women.  I do not need the same blessings.  Thankfully I do not need to learn to survive on raw meat, and live for years in a wilderness.  My trials are different, and the blessings personal to me.  I see them everyday.  After a long tiring day, I find I still have the energy to stay up with a sick baby.  A friend will call or stop by, and give me support I didn't even realize I so desperately needed.  A broken internet connection will fix itself, so we can still talk to Daddy.  I have hot water, plenty of food, a working car, good health, a washing machine, air conditioner, and internet camera.  I can talk to and see my husband who is on the other side of the world.  I am blessed and made stronger, by being able to see my many blessings, and appreciate and focus on them.  Reading the scriptures changes the way I think, and better allows me to find happiness at a difficult time. 

The women of Lehi's family didn't pray, and wake up in the comfort of their homes in Jerusalem.  I'm sure on weaker days they noticed they were still in the dirty wilderness, still tired, still had to live off raw meat, and had little ones who always needed them.  I have no doubt there were mornings where they looked around and thought, "I really hate this."

If I'm not careful it's too easy to hate my circumstances too.  I notice my dirty house I never seem to keep up with, the large stack of calendar days my husband is still away, how yucky and tired I feel, and how early my children wake up every day, not to mention that never ending list of tasks I need to complete no matter how I'm feeling.  I wouldn't trade with the women of Lehi's family though!  They found strength in God, and so can I.  They eventually reached a promised land.  They set a legacy of faith, and their posterity turned to their examples again and again, as do I.

    
Granted, the poster is romanticized a bit.  The girl in the front is beautiful, and they're in formation doing a "power walk" like in the movies.  I don't think it's necessarily meant to be realistic, but more to paint a feeling of strength and inner beauty I'm sure they had.  So what would my romantic poster look like?  If I could paint it myself, my hair would be gracefully swept back, blowing in the breeze perhaps, with Merrylee on my hip, and Anny standing by holding my hand and looking trustingly up at me.  I'd be gazing towards the sky, watching airplanes, and seeing beyond the clouds with thoughtful determination, and hope glowing from my eyes. 

We all should have motivating posters of ourselves, don't you think?  Posters that through their artwork speak the words, "I am a daughter of God.  I am daily blessed with divine strength, and can conquer any trial, just as those before me."

Nephi, son of Lehi, probably said it best when describing how God helped his family:

"...And if it so be that the children of men keep the commandments of God he doth nourish them, and strengthen them, and provide means whereby they can accomplish the thing which he has commanded them..."

Represet the Four Year Old . . .

I added photos from Anny's gymnastics class today to our slideshow from the last post.  Check it out again, they're great pictures, and I caught several of her catching some air!  Her coach said she's really impressed by Anny, and can't believe this is her first gymnastics class!  Do we see a possible star in the 2020 Summer Olympics?  Nah, we wouldn't do that to her.  Anny really loves gymnastics, why ruin that for her?!!  We have to agree with her coach though, she's pretty impressive!! (and in more than just gymnastics!)