The Kid

Kid,
If I don't record some of the things you've said and done recently, I'm sure I'll regret it.
You are my most rambunctious, stubborn toddler yet.  And that is saying something.
You have a DEFINIATE opinion on how most things are done.  You are sweet, loving, and fun one minute, and a raging fit the next.
And you say funny things.

Today at lunch:  I'd told you I'd make you nachos AFTER you ate your three baby carrots.  Ten seconds later, there were no carrots on your plate, yet your mouth was empty.  "Mom!" you yelled, ready to ask for nachos...  I cut in, "Where's your carrots?"  "Under me!"  you exclaimed proudly!  At least you're honest.

The other day you ran to the mudroom and rang the doorbell that is just inside the door there.  Then your face lit up and you turned to me and said, "Someone's here!"  You wanted to run to the front door to open it, but I stopped you.  Then you proceeded to repeat that five or six more times.

We were having a modge-podge lunch the other day: clementines, crackers, cheese, pretzels, carrots...
You put a saltine down on your plate, then a pretzel, then covered it with cheese.  Then in a stern voice you yelled, "BE QUIET!  PRETZEL SLEEPING!"  A moment later you whipped off the cheese and pronouced, "Pretzel wake-up!"

You've got a particular routine you follow to a "T" when you go to sleep.  It goes more or less like this:
Jammies, family prayer, slide down the stairs SUPER fast, possibly slide down two or three more times (or until I make you go in your room (I have a video of this I need to include), say your prayers (I love that even if it's nap time- you won't skip this step!) climb in bed, make sure your favorite pillow is on TOP, locate fish, bear, and doggy, insist on BOTH of your blankets covering you AND your toes, find sippy cup, drink from sippy, ask for more water (even if its practically full), say "Oh!" when I tell you that you already HAVE water, ask me to turn on "Alexander's Amazing Adventures," sing along, ask me to sleep by you, ask me to turn up the music, insist the music be even louder, I finish snuggling with you and you say, "tickle me!"  I comply.  I turn off the light and say, "Stay in Bed.  Love you!"  You shout back.  "I won't! Love you!"  You usually stay in bed, despite your declaration otherwise.
Funny boy.
When you wake up- be it after nap or in the morning you loiter downstairs, sometimes kicking your wall, sometimes climbing in someone else's bed.  Eventually you pitter-patter upstairs and find dad or I and exclaim, "I wake up!  Sleep good!"  I love it!  Sometimes in the morning you will come snuggle by me.   It doesn't last very long.

Love you, my sweet, stubborn, rambunctious two-year-old.

Turkey Two.

I don't have a lot of pictures, and the ones I do are from a phone, but I hope I capture just a little about the newest two-year-old in the house.

This boy. 

 

 Here he is with our two-day-pet the baby grasshopper: Tiny Tim. We're not pet people.  We almost killed him.

He's got a double crown, and thus turkey feathers all. the. time.

It's impossible to comb and make stay flat.  Oh well.  It adds to the charm and character, right?

He started his tricky, turkey, twos (I hate to call them terrible... yet I'm tempted) MONTHS ago.  He runs around yelling, following people, pulling hair to get reactions, asking for books to be read to him, hauling around garbage cans and laundry baskets, yelling, rolling, kicking, throwing, jumping, singing, laughing, all with twinkling eyes.

He finally decided talking was a good idea. It is a far cry better than the point and yell theme he had going before.  

Two days ago he learned to climb out of his crib.  He'd been close for ages.  Now he finally can.  Darn.

Yesterday- since he could climb out- he decided he wasn't going to take a nap.  After putting him back in bed five or six times, I thought I'd see how the day played out.  

Bad idea.  He was terribly grumpy and fell asleep IN his mac-n-cheese.  Not tired, ey?

On his birthday we decided to make fruit trains since he loves cars/trains/airplanes etc and he LOVES fruit!  MY FIRST FRUIT LOVER!!!  Mine looked like a train, but everyone else had a better time making their own creations.  I think it was a hit!  We might repeat this again.

  

 This lady ate hers before I got a picture.

 This little one got wrapped up like a burrito by a sibling. 

 This is what like at our house looks like. PJ's, eating at the counter, and hopefully smiles.

 This baby is great at smiling!

 

 I digress.

We love having this boy.  We love his smiles.  His sweetness.  His twinkly eyes.

We love his hugs. We love his laugh.  We love how he comes and says good morning to us EVERY. DAY.  We love how he says, "Wuv Wu!" when Dad leaves.  We love that he waits anxiously for his kiss on the head goodbye from Dad every morning at breakfast while he sits in his chair.  We love his half run, half hop that he does.  We love his energy.  We love how he says sorry and gives a hug and a kiss (after he purposefully pulled hair).  

Pretty much, we just love this boy.

Here and Now

Whenever someone asks, "How are you?" after greeting us and looking at a gaggle of homeless-looking kids and a newborn (4 months!!!), I wonder how to answer.  If my mom is there and I answer, "We're good," or "Getting better every day!" she looks at me with a knowing look that only moms possess.  It seems to shoot multiple meanings my way.  "I know you.  Are you really?  If they only knew.  Do you not remember a few days ago?" 
Memories.  They are interesting things.  Sometimes we cannot let go of an event or a feeling.  They linger for decades and hover in the corner of our minds.  Other times, we quickly misjudge a past situation thinking it was better or worse than it was.  Parenthood is that way.  I believe by design.  I'm desperately praying that my children's memories are vague from this time period.  I'm not sure I would have had five children had I remembered every in-and-out detail of pregnancy, childbirth, and the hard months following the baby's arrival.  After every child is born I think, "Oh, pregnancy wasn't so hard.  I could have even made it a few more weeks if I'd had to."  And yet every time I'm pregnant I think just the opposite.  King thinks its laughable the way I cling to a due date and cry when the baby hasn't made an appearance weeks early!  It's true.  Every time.  After EVERY baby I think I'm doing ok.  I have moments when I KNOW I'm not doing ok, but I justify the lack of sleep for my anxious, uptight mood.  Months later, when hindsight is 20/20 I know I WASN'T ok.  Why?!  Why do I forget?!  King gave me a knowing look yesterday and reminded me to relax- to give some leeway to a seemingly obnoxious child because I was rather grumpy and uptight.  Clearly, my perspective on the child's behavior and his actual behavior were not lining up.  In the moment, I think I'm being fair, rational, and fine, but taking a step back I can see how I'm perceived (accurately) as up tight, stern, and fairly rash in my judgements of behavior.
The point? 
I need to focus.  Prioritize.  Decide what is most important in the MOMENT.  I need to look at the here and now, yes, but I need to focus on the real goal.   More than likely, the goal won't be a clean house, or an organized toy room, garage, dresser, shed, closet, ... everything!  Though all those things need help!  I love the quote (author unknown to me) that says, "Never let a problem to be solved be more important than a person to be loved." If only I could lock that quote into my memory, and have it be the portion that does NOT fade or rationalize how things really were.  I hope my little family can look back and remember the good things about here and now, not just the crankiness, craziness, and chaos that exist.  Life is good. Life is hard. Life is long.  Life is short.  All at the same time.  I had a funny epiphany the other day.  I tend to think of trials as being some HUGE event: cancer, bankruptcy, death etc.  I think of being cheerful and optimistic through those trials.  And yet, our little family hasn't experienced ANY of those.  Somehow I thought of our struggles not as "trials" to be endured well, but as difficult circumstances that I could grumble and complain about.  Broken sprinklers, flooded basements, health issues, more health issues, crazy schedules, heavy work loads, little sleep.  Those are trials, too.  Not major, but still trials.  And THEY can be endured well too!  It's good to keep in perspective that they AREN'T major, and that we have a LOT to be grateful for!  But its ok to see them as personal trials and to focus on a good perspective, a good and grateful attitude, and a kind word to my children despite the frustrations and occasional obnoxiousness that is just a natural part of being a growing body!
BREATH. LIFE IS GOOD.
Will someone please come tatoo this on my forearm?

Five

It only took three months.  No one's hair was fixed special.  No one matched (or was even close!).  No great backdrops.  They are blurry.  There is lots of finger sucking and silly faces going on.  The babe looks slightly annoyed and squished in every single one.

But it's a picture of ALL FIVE.  AT THE SAME TIME.  

I love it.

Lately.

Lately we've been spending a lot of time like this.  Late nights are this girls' specialty.  She particularly likes to have her dad walk her in circles around the kitchen with her perched on his shoulder.

 Others like to hold her as well.  She's not quite as fond of this.

 On a positive note, she has learned to smile!

 They like to eat their lunch clustered in a tight bunch.  My sneaking suspicion is that the boy likes this because their lunches are within easy reach.  And seeing as he eats MUCH faster than them...

 Sometimes babies smile with their entire faces.  I love it.

 These two...

Blood, Sweat, and Tears

That title was literal.  If you don't like blood, or if you are any of my brother-in-laws named Jeff (I'm fairly certain they call can't stand the sight of blood...), quit reading now.

It seems like we've tripled our normal ammount of cuts, scrapes, and bruises the last few weeks. 
To start with, I cut my head.  I was talking on the phone and remembered something I wanted to find in the garage.  I opened up one of the upper cabinets and the door caught the giant toddler carseat that was stored on top of the cabinet.  I'm not sure how much that thing weighs, but when it lands on your head, it hurts!
I put my hand on my head and came away with a bloody palm.  Wonderful.

 

The cut really wasn't that bad, but heads bleed.  And having it right smack on the top of your head in the midst of longish hair, makes ones hair hard to comb.  Yeah for ponytails.

About a week or so later, the Kid grabbed a newly opened olive can.  In my defense, I had moved the can thinking, "That's sharp!"  The Kid, however, moved the stool and tried to sneak more olives.  The resulting slice on his finger ended that.  I didn't get a picture, but it bled and bled and bled.  It may have needed stitches.  It didn't get any.

The very next day, Millaker was "swinging on the curtains" in the basement (or so she tells me).  She somehow ended up hitting the brick fireplace mantle and split her chin.  Initially I was able to put a bandaid on it.  It looked deep, but wasn't bleeding too much.

A few hours later, when it had reopened twice, I was rethinking my bandaging.  Maybe it needed stitches?  Her big sister thought a bigger bandaid would help, and came out with this beauty.  

 

In the middle of all this drama, we went to Costco.  We were walking out the car when the Kid tripped.  It was a TINY cut above his eye, but as we have already found out, heads bleed.  His oldest sister was again the bandaid-finder and chose this beautiful thing to adorn his head.  We went to costco looking like a bunch of rag-a-muffins.

Not to be outdone.  Millaker showed me her arm during church yesterday.  It looked like a TON of mosquito bites.  They were itching her like crazy.  Shortly after church the bumps were gone.  Rash?  Later in the day, some appeared on her stomach.  Itchy.  Then they left.  At ten pm last night we heard her crying.  She was itching like crazy.  We plunked her in the tub for a soda bath only to discover that her whole body (atleast 50%) was coverered in a bumpy, red, itchy rash.  Thanks to soda, calomine, and children's allergy meds (like benadryl), she was able to sleep eventually.

Anyone else want in on the fun?

Mother's-day-isms.

At church yesterday, the primary leaders had the children fill out questionnaires about their mothers.  I ALWAYS get a kick out of these.  For the most part, my three oldest children knew the basics about me (or at least were close to it).  My hair color ranged from brown to black, my eyes were green and hazel, and they all knew how old I am.
Further questions yielded more interesting answers.  I will list their answers from oldest to youngest.

For example.

My mom's favorite food is:  "lasanya and sbgetti", "pizza", and "salad, tomatoes."  They were close.  Those are all good.

My mom and I like to: "play mnoply," "play games, sing," "paint."
For the record: we never paint.

My favorite thing about my mom is: "she is relley nice,"  "she helps me, she is pretty, she loves me" and "she helps me make my bed."
I'm glad they have short memories.

My mom is really good at: "playing gamse,"  cooking, helping children, cares about people," and my all time favorite from the three year old, " riding an elephant.  She doesn't even fall off." 

Awesome.

Things that make me smile.

Some days I hit the end of the day, and realize I didn't smile much.
I'm trying to notice the funny things my children say and do and SMILE more.  Enjoy it!  We had the best lesson on Sunday during relief society.  The woman teaching shared how her dad would always tell their family, "Whatever you do, for goodness sakes, enjoy it!!!"   I'm trying.  Here's some things that have made me smile lately.

A while ago I was singing the "Do, Rey, Mi" song from "The Sound if Music."  Millaker loved it, but not knowing all the words nor the title of the song would request the "doe a deer song."  The other day when I decided to introduce the kids to the actual movie, Eddie ran to get Millaker saying, "Hurry!  Then we can watch the female deer movie!"
Sorry Julie Andrews.

The Kid is a clown.  Literally.  He loves to laugh and to make people laugh.  So much so that he's developed a loud, fake, but amusing laugh he forces out to try and make others laugh.  The other night he was wide awake when I put him down for bed.  He spent the next HOUR laughing loudly at... Nothing.  I'm sure Guy was amused.  I listened by the stairs and by his door for a few moments.  This kid...
Undeterred.
We also laugh when he looks around, sees his sister's hair all done, or with a headband, and then high-tails it to my bathroom, pulls out a headband, and puts it on himself.  He's so proud of himself and struts around the house the rest of the day with... a headband.  I need to take a picture.  He'll either love it, or despise the picture one day.
UPDATE:  here's the proof.

Just to keep it real:
Last night I texted my sister, cousin, and King that I HATED TOYS!
I was all proud of how reasonable and calm I'd been all day.  Despite the fights over toys, the hitting ("but I said sorry!" ... not understanding that hitting, just because you PLAN to say sorry after- is not ok), the mess etc.  When it came time to clean up, NO ONE would clean.  Over an hour later, as I was feeding the baby, Eddie brought me up a broken pair of blinds Millaker had pulled down from the wall.  Last straw.  It literally broke the camel's back.  I hollered, had them clean up, and put 1/2 the toys AWAY in an in-accessable place threatening to throw them out permanently if they took them out of their place before I got them out (next week!).  In a not-to-pleasant voice I sat the older kids down and explained how their behavior that day had broken just about every. single. family. rule (peace, respect, order, asking, obedience!).  Thankfully, we pulled it back together and ended the day on a somewhat cheerful note.  Some days... I'm glad they go to sleep.  We start again the next day.

Baby Girl

The little Elder is here! 
I'm only four weeks behind on announcing this...
I don't have a great nick-name yet for her on the blog, we'll call her Lil' (short for little- which is ironic, because she was my biggest baby, but at the moment, she's the littlest in the family).

I should specialize in run-on sentances chalk full of dashes and parenthesies.

 

This darling made her debut four weeks ago weighing a whoppin 7 lbs 4 oz.
She was 20 inches long and had a full head of straight hair.  Our second child to have more than the classic "old man fringe around the edges."

I was induced four days early.  Everyone do a heel click with me!  I was ready to be done!  But really, what pregnant woman isn't ready to be done after 39 weeks!
I'd been measuring small- which is very typical for me.  After weeks of twice-a-week visits complete with NST's (non-stress-tests) and ultrasounds, they decided to just get her here.  For a while they thought there was a growth discrepancy between the rate her head was growing and her abdomen, but that was no longer a concern.  She was a pro at going HOURS with no movement until I had to poke and prod to even feel her.  Eventually the Dr said, lets just get her here safely. No more waiting. Hallelujah! 

 

Her labor wasn't my favorite (read: the worst yet) and I was THRILLED to have her here!  It only took eight hours, instead of the typical twelve three of mine have taken, but it felt FAR longer.  I'm sure there are big, red, bolded letters on my chart that read, "Never let this woman have more children.  If she does, give her an epidural!"  I'm equally sure that neither King nor my Dr ever wants to relive those eight hours.  I sure don't.  Here is my public apology to anyone I may have yelled at or complained to.  I promise I'm not normally so vocal or so rude.

She came out purple- and I didn't hear a sound.  The dr insisted she was ok, but I watched as he unwrapped the cord THREE TIMES from around her neck and it took a moment before her color looked safe to me.  I've never quite experienced a feeling like that- watching, waiting, and hoping a little life was here to stay.  Her middle name references the goodness and generosity of God.  That is EXACTLY how I felt after she was here safely.  

 Pretend I rotated this picture- because once its uploaded... sadly there is no rotating.... and its ten o'clock at night. 

Can you tell he's excited?

 Her oldest brother was her first visitor.  Grandma and Grandpa picked him up from his aunt and uncle's and brought him along.  The rest of the siblings were with a different set up grandparents recovering from the croup (lovely timing, I know). Though he was initially disappointed to hear we were expecting a girl, and not another brother for him, he quickly got over that and since has been one of the BEST helpers with her.   I don't remember much of his visit.  I sadly had to go have a proceedure done, and was LOOPY and quite out of it for the next hour or so.  (REALLY!  I made it all the way through labor without an epidural only to be put under immediately after.  I was NOT very happy!)  I may or may not have cried every time I thought about missing the first hour of her birth for a few days.  That hour is so sacred, so special to me.  Thankfully, King was able to stay with her and watch her first bath, and hold her.  That means a LOT to me.  I'm glad he was there.

This isn't a great picture, but it shows her dark, straight hair and I love it!

 A month out, I can honestly say this girl is L.O.V.E.D.    The kid might kill her with his over-abundance of tough love.  The first time he saw her he walked up and poked her in the eye and said "BABY!"  He STILL wants to poke her eyes every time he sees her.  He is so sensitive to her needs and can't stand it if she cries.  He is a man of few words (literally) but will yell, "BABY SAD!" every time she even whimpers.  All the kids bicker over who's turn it is to hold her.  Now that we are all well (remind me to tell you about how the Kid got RSV the week she was born and we stayed quarantined in my room for a week... and how happy King was to go back to work after the whole ordeal...), they ALL want multiple turns a day. 

I think she is one of our calmer babies, though King isn't so convinced.  If only he didn't see her primarily in the evening hours when she's not at her best... we'd have a better chance of convincing him.  Welcome, 'Lil!  you are loved!

Waiting

The countdown is on. 
Truthfully, it's been going for months, but its finally down to a nice, manageable, number.  That is, for most people.
T-6  (or is that T-5) days till the littlest Elder arrives.  Despite my wildest hopes that I could be induced this week, celebrating the end of another legislative session with the end of what has seemed like a L.O.N.G. pregnancy, there are other opinions and things to consider, and the soonest I can convince my doctor to induce me is Monday.  Although I'd really, really like to go into labor on my own- facing the facts, that is not going to happen till I'm 60 weeks along, and I make doctors nervous because I always, ALWAYS measure small. 
I celebrated my small victory of not crying in front of the doctor when he said to wait one more weekend, and making it all the way to my car before I burst into tears with a phone call to King and an Andes Mint Shake.
I DO recognize that its a silly thing to cry over.  Here I have four, healthy, beautiful, wonderful (and at times obnoxious) children.  My body CAN have children, and they are all strong and well.  However many times I tell myself this- at the end of EVERY pregnancy I falter- beginning to think that waking up as physically tired (not sleepy) as when I went to bed (thank you leg cramps), and the bruised right rib that every child in my womb has picked on, will simply never go away.  I KNOW that the sleep will not drastically improve once a newborn is here, but the quality of sleep I get when I DO get to sleep will be far better!!  And really, at this point I just want to HOLD my baby- with my arms, not my ribs.  I want to be able to hold my other children on my lap rather than my knees.  I itch to rid myself of cankles and a sensitive nose.  So to boulster myself through the last few days, and distract myself from the last remaining days I need to fill with something positive and useful, I'm writing a list of the top ten reasons

WHY it is a GOOD idea for this baby to come MONDAY and NOT THURSDAY.

1)  King has homework.  Work has been crazy, and with King being sick a few days last week and getting behind, then missing class this week due to long hours on the House and Senate floors, he's got some catching up to do.  What better time than BEFORE this babe comes- not after.  He'll have time to just enjoy her and the other kids when he's caught up with no other distractions.

1b) Session will be OVER and done, and King can catch up on some missed sleep and won't have to feel guilty about missing out on his responsibilities.

2) The University has spring break next week- meaning King won't miss class!

3) We have a great weekend planned full of last minute errands, fun activities with the kids, baptisms, and cousin time.

4) One more Sunday at church!  I NEED the rejuvenation I get each week at church- and since I usually don't make it back for a good MONTH after the baby, this is one more week of filling my spiritual bucket!

5) One last chance to go to the temple.  The Temple has been closed the last few weeks, and I have just a few names left to do some work for.  This gives me the chance to finish them, and like reason #5, get one more bucket filler for me.  I know I won't make it back to the temple ANY time soon after having a baby- so this is to wrap things up, and to fill me up.

6) Grandparents schedules have been coordinated to take care of kids Monday and Tuesday.  This is a HUGE help!!

7) I'll be a few days past 39 weeks, meaning there is no medical reason anyone can tell me NOT to have this baby.  She will be fully baked and ready to come!

8) All our kids (with the exception of the Kid) have missed a neat birth date by one day.  This baby will follow the trend.  Just one day off St. Patricks day. 

9) We still haven't settled on a name.  Not that I think an extra four days will help, nor do I think we'll even get around to discussing it, but I'm trying to get to 10 reasons.  It's a stretch.

10)  Because that's what is going to happen.  I trust my Dr (even when I don't want to agree with him) and I trust that the Lord has a plan.  I'm terrible at waiting and being patient, but this will just have to do!