Carefully styled hair with not a wisp out of place. My favorite shirt that has a way of making me feel skinnier than I am. Cute little jeans with gemstones glittering on the pockets. Freshly shaved legs, not just to the knee, are lotioned and smooth. Adorable flats that go great with my outfit but also make me feel comfortable and at ease. Sounds like I am ready to head out on a great date or maybe an important real estate meeting, right? As much as I wish that either of those were true, that was not the case a few days ago. I was headed to the OB, the gyno, the "woman doctor". Please do not misunderstand. It is not like I think my OB rivals Brad Pitt. I do not do all of this to impress him. Honestly, I am not really sure why I do this. This man has seen me at my very worst. We all know that no matter how beautiful that little baby is that you have, pushing him out is not beautiful at all. My doctor has seen my mascara stained face, my stretch marked stomach, my matted down hair. Maybe I do it because I want to prove to him that I can clean up nice when I am not trying to push out a bowling ball. Maybe I am so insecure about what he has to do in my yearly appointments that I try to make myself feel as great as possible to soften the blow. I am not really sure what it is but, none the less, I go through the same routine every time. I respect OBs. I am sure that it is awesome to be able to deliver all those babies but the rest of the job can not be that glamorous. They are always really gentle and kind. They have a way of never raising their voice above a hush and they always seem so calm. They speak as though they are watching tulips bloom before their eyes when in reality they are up to their elbows try to unwedge a breach baby with a first time mom. I think that they know how uncomfortable they make us and that is why they are so nice. I can't help but laugh at myself though that I dress up more for him than I do to go on a job interview (that is when I only shave to my knee!). I guess if he is willing to do that kind of job though, it is the least I can do. After all, he is responsible for getting my children here and making sure that I don't feel a thing. God bless OBs!

The Perfect Storm

The perfect storm. Imagine the first sunny Saturday after a really long winter. A kids safety fair with free admission. The invention of mini vans with the capability of holding up to seven children. And Utah- the place the has the highest ratio in the nation of children per household. All of this adds up to one bad idea. It is just to bad that I didn't figure that out until I was sitting on state street surrounded by all of these mini vans waiting to turn into one parking lot. A further clue would have been when it took me over 20 minutes to park. But no- around and around I go- isle after isle, spot after spot. Anxiously looking for the glow of reverse lights so I can jump in and take their spot. Each time I thought I had a chance I was shot blocked by another stupid mini van sitting in the dead middle of the isle, waiting for their own spot, and I could not get through to race to my own little piece of parking lot real estate. After cussing out one final mini van that got in my way, I swore that if I came upon one more van with break lights glowing, I was going to ram that stupid "honor student" bumper sticker so hard that the police will be trying to figure out why that mom was wearing a bumper sticker on her forehead. I should have just threw my hands in air and gone to the mall but the draw of painted faces and animal balloons was just too great for Tylie so I made a few more rounds and finally found a spot to park. As I was walking into the convention center, I started to feel like a herd of cattle all making their way to the feeding ground. We all had one purpose in mind and our children were prodding with their sticks to get us to go faster. Once I got inside I found myself wishing that I was in a corral with a bunch of cattle. I am sure that it would be more comfortable and much more roomy. Every Utahn that has ever had a child was there and they were swarming around like a bunch of ants on a hill. I couldn't push my stroller down the aisle, I couldn't look at any of the booths, I couldn't turn back because I had some eight year old butt rushing my every move. I wanted to throw my hands in the air and scream. I wanted to find the convention committee and inform them that if they were going to plan a kids fair with free admission in Utah they needed to put a cap on how many people were allowed in the building because I was sure that they were beyond capacity and if a fire were to break out, we would all be crispy bacon. I stood in line for 15 minutes to get some dumb backpack they were handing out, I stood for 20 minutes to get a sword balloon, and I finished it out with grabbing a fruit smoothie from my mom who was helping a friend run some concessions. I was complaining to her about the chaos when a cute mom with a double stroller and seven kids waltzed up to my mom's cart. She had fliers, balloons, and candy wrappers protruding from every crevice of that stroller and she looked exhausted. She ordered one fruit smoothie and I thought "I don't blame ya, lady. Get yourself a treat. You deserve it!" It was what came next that had me busting a gut. She then asked my mom for seven, yes- seven, straws. One for each kid. One smoothie- seven kids- free admission. Hilarious! Shoot- if you have seven kids all living under one roof, I am sure that they have shared a lot worse things than a little saliva. Why go for the separate straws? Just stick with one. You know that those straws are just going to become swords on the way home and the mini van is going to turn into an old world battle until some one gets their eye poked out. It is times like this that I think that two kids is enough. I think I need to go on a cruise, without the kids, so I can miss them. I will lay in the sun sipping a pina colada and talk about all the cute things that they do every day. Yup, I guess I need to talk to Jake. If he wants any more kids his only option is taking me on a get away vacation!

My baby's blanket

A few weeks ago in sunday school, we were asked to think about our most precious earthly possessions. The things that we cling to, protect, maintain, and even spend money to insure. A few things passed through my head- my wedding ring, my blog books, my wedding album. I was feeling pretty good about myself thinking that I was not a very materialistic person. There are not many things in this world that I have that would completely devastate me if I lost them.

Later that night I was getting the kids to bed and I noticed Mason's blankie on the floor. I scooped it up so I could toss it in his bed but just when I went to throw it, I noticed something about this little blanket. It smelled like my little man. I sauntered over to the rocking chair and sat there, alone in his room, smelling his blanket. I slowly inhaled several times taking in everything that the smell had to offer. It made me giggle because this smell is not something that everyone would enjoy. When Tylie was little, my mom would constantly lather her in baby lotion so that is what her smell became. Mason is very different though. Although he gets plenty of lotion himself, that smell isn't what defines him. His blanket smells like...... him. I wish that I could explain it but it is something that I hold very close to me and will remember forever. It is a smell that makes me think of chubby cheeks that I kiss about a thousand times a day, of muffled giggles waiting for me to come get him from his nap, of alligator tears when I have to stop him from beating up on Tylie, and late nights rocking him in my arms while he rests on the soft fleece. I love that blanket because it captures the essence of my Mason. I wish I could somehow bottle the smell to get me through his first date or the day he goes to the MTC. Looks like I should have added one more item to my list of the things I prize on this earth- my baby's blanket.

Pressure

I have been feeling this immense pressure lately to update this blog. I ignored while I was finishing up my blog book for last year but now that project is completed I have been racking my brain with what to ramble about. I have been running every morning lately and running has a way of clearing your mind and making everything very clear. The thing that has been made most clear to me lately is that my life is pretty boring and uneventful lately. As I watch the seconds tick away on my tread mill I find myself slipping away. I let my mind wander through the days and weeks that have past for any little tidbit that might be humorous or enlightening. I ponder the miles away only to come up with blanks. I got nothin! No funny things that Tylie has done, no story about Mason's latest rampage through the house, no stupid stories about me falling flat on my face in the middle of a crowded parking lot, NOTHING! The weather has kept us cooped up in the house and the walls are closing in more every day. I crave the sunshine, the warm air, the long summer days. I love to get in my car, crank up my heated seats, turn the heater at sweltering heat, and recline my seat. I like to pretend that I am lying on a beach and I can feel the heat radiating off the sand. It is a real disappointment to open my eyes and see the dash thermometer read in the thirties. I will survive but I am afraid that people in blog land will have to go into survival mode with me. I promise lots of entertaining blogs when the sun comes out. They will be full of sprinkler parties, trips to Cali (Grant and Candice, Steve and Tanya- it is a plan- please do not bail. I don't think my heart can take it!), marathons, and fireworks. If the drought of entertaining news goes on too long, I promise to subject myself to some horrible disaster in a very public place so you can all laugh at what an idiot I am. Normally I would not intentionally subject myself to such humiliation but for the good of the blog I will. I will take one for the team. Besides, it would be a nice change to the mundane mess that I have now. I wish that the weather would change like it does on that show "Planet Earth." When ice melts in seconds and deserts dry before your eyes. Oh well- I will just keep praying to have the strength to accept the things I cannot change. sigh.

Dang me!

I admit it- I have been slacking in my job. I have been trying my best to stick to my workout routine so getting up earlier has been more regular lately. I workout and feel like I am on some sort of high every morning. But like every drug, there is a crash. My crash is inevitably in the afternoon around 4:00. My body starts to be sluggish, my eyes feel like I have taped rocks to my lashes, and the stairs the I scale daily begin to look like Mount Everest. I rarely give in to these feeling but yesterday I did. I DID- ALRIGHT! I WAS TIRED!!! I thought I was playing it smart. I let Tylie build a fort in her room, gave her some popcorn so she could "fix dinner" for Mason, closed off all doors that hold potential disasters, and laid down on my bed. Ahhhh...bliss. Children quietly playing in the backround, house cleaned, and my new ipod softly humming lullabies in my ears. "Fifteen minutes", I told myself, "What can happen in that short of time? It takes me longer to clean a bathroom and I do that all the time." Right in the middle of lying on a beach in some exotic land soaking up the exotic sun I was startled out of my rest. No beach. No cabanas. No cute drinks with umbrellas. Just Tylie screaming that Mason was ruining her stuff. I stumbled to her room still trying to focus on the world around me and this is what I found.

and this-

this and this-


Gosh dang it! Mason had found the makeup that Tylie got for Christmas and successfully colored everything that he touched. He had it from head to toe. Then he stepped in it and so where ever he walked- he left a little trail for me to find him. It was on carpet, dressers, pillows, walls, comforters, doors, and anywhere else you can imagine a one year old reaching. Just when I wanted to whirl around and start screaming at Mason for getting into it and Tylie for letting it happen I remembered that there was just one idiot in the room and it was not Tylie or Mason. Cursing myself I walked down the stairs to grab any kind of cleaner I could find. Dang me for putting that makeup where he could reach it. Dang me for buying that makeup in the first place. Dang me for thinking that I could rest while he was at large. And finally- dang me for blaming them. I cleaned the carpet and when I walked over to throw the paper towels away I found my phone in the garbage. When I went to the bathroom to rinse the rags- I found my keys in the toilet. When I deposited the rags in the hamper- I found the entire package of diapers emptied into the dirty clothes. Good grief kid! How much damage can you do in such a short time? I feel like he was almost waiting for me to let my guard down. I can almost see him peering around the corner, just waiting for my eyes to flutter shut. Then he went to work. The kid is crazy but I love him. I am the responsible adult and I guess I will just have to take that role more seriously. After all was said and done, though, I walked back into Tylie's room in a huff of frustration and this is what I saw.

Frustration gone. I did want to make Tylie's room a little more girly. I guess pink carpet will do. Thanks Mason!

Fear

I have a fear. A fear that has been gnawing at my insides for quite some time and it finally starting to seep out. It has worked its way up my throat and I am having a hard time holding it down. I have always loudly professed that my greatest fear is that one of my children would be ripped out of my earthly arms too soon leaving me behind. I have evaluated my list and I believe that fear has been moved to number 2.
My greatest fear is that I will not be able to teach my children well enough and that this world will get them in it's nasty grip and pull them down to a place that my arms cannot reach. I have often said that this is a worry but the statement always seemed more rhetorical than anything. Lately, though, I am beginning to see how much this fear has a hold on me. It is almost debilitating. As I was growing up drugs were a thing from a far of place called Compton, sex was a nasty rumor that somebody started to hurt another, and jail and prison were a place for old men with no teeth that lived under viaducts and drank out of a brown paper bag. I would watch the news and hear of horrible stories from far off countries. I would watch as my mom would shake her head mumbling about how times have changed- then I would turn off the TV and go snuggle down in my warm bed and listen to my sister softly breathe while she slept. I never worried about guns in school or what I was going to see at the next party. My worries were made up of homework deadlines and having enough lunch money left over to get the cinnamon roll I wanted.
Now I see that these tragedies are no longer thousands of miles away in foreign countries. They are at my doorstep affecting people that I love. Drugs are no longer contained in big cities with a high crime rate. They are here in my city sucking in so many people that I know. I don't have to turn on the news anymore to hear of more horrifying stories and more people to pity. I simply pick up the phone and it seems that endless people know endless stories of what is going on.
I feel that the darkness is closing in. I feel that my light is no longer enough. The problems are big enough that a hug doesn't fix it. The darkness is choking me. It is comforting to look over the vast dark and see little flickers of light out there. People trying so hard to break the darkness. But where is that light that can surely dominate it all. I know that He will come but when? What will my children have to endure before he says it is enough? Will I be able to stack enough armor on them to withstand the blows they will undoubtedly have to absorb. How can I help them become a beacon for those around them? I feel like if I just teach them to cling to that path that they will be ok. I see so many others out there who have had the same teachings that have wandered, what makes my children different? I think that I might have almost chose to be with the Pioneers and seen my children's bloody footprints in the snow. At least then I would know that it is their physical mortality on the line and not their eternal salvation. My kids are going to have to make decisions amid chaos that will affect them for eternities. I feel I am not enough as a mom to show them how important all these things are.
Both Tylie and Mason are in their beds taking naps right now. They are the perfect picture of calm and serene. Do they know? Will they have the strength? At this moment, I feel very small to the task of being a mom in this world. I pray daily for heavens help. The day will come, I will just have to do my best until then.

An old friend

This morning found me dragging my butt out of bed an hour earlier than normal with the same goal as thousands of others around the nation. Today was the day that I was going start working out in the morning before the kids wake up. I feel really cliched about doing the "workout resolution" but I considered the alternative and not doing it and getting fat just because I don't want to be cliche seemed even dumber- so here I am. Dressed in all my workout garb, I approached my entertainment closet, carefully pushed to the side all my cute chick flicks, reached to the deepest darkest corner and picked up the last movie I could feel. I grabbed it, set it aside and got the movie lurking under that. That is how long it has been. I could barely decipher if I had gotten the right one but due to the thick layer of dust on it, I assumed that had to be it. It was my good old friend Billy Blanks from Taebo. Taebo was a fad back when I was in high school and I loved doing the workouts. My mom had bought the tapes and loaned them to a friend years later and I was never able to find them again. Thanks to ebay, I found them last year but they have been sitting on my shelf since then. As I popped it in, I felt like I was meeting an old friend that has been waiting for my for quite some time. And then, there he was. Billy- the ripped instructor with tight blue spandex one piece and his hands wrapped like he is ready to enter a cage fight. Head shaved bald and lubed up with a grease so that he sparkles with every jab he takes. He starts you out slow and then gradually builds you up to "double time". He works you so hard that you get to a point that you want to grab a tub of ice cream and watch him because simply watching him is a workout. Then he builds you up with words like "you can push past the pain" and "think about that swimming suit". He is like my own personal Richard Simmons on steroids. With all of his "atta boys" I got through the entire workout and ended up like a wet noodle on the floor. I was panting like a dog about ready to go lap out of the toilet because I couldn't get my legs to hold my weight when Jake came down on his way out the door. He chuckled, looked at me sympathetically and kissed me goodbye. Thanks babe- love you too. After a few of Billy's breathing techniques I was able to pull myself together. I hobbled up the stairs wondering if it is normal to feel sick and want to throw up when you haven't even eaten anything yet. I forced down a glass of water as the room was spinning and went and stood in front of an open window. The best part of the whole experience though was this. I excercised, read my scriptures, showered, and had my make up on all before the kids even woke up. I think that I freaked Tylie out because she is used to seeing me in a robe, black caked under my eyes, hair hanging in my face, and me wiping drool off my chin. It is sad that my fresh face is what scared her. I think she was wondering what alternate universe she had drifted into. I really like this feeling but I am also a realist so I have made a goal to workout like this three times a week. I am trying not to set myself up for failure. Or maybe it is that when I stop doing it I will only feel guilty three times a week instead of every day. Who knows? Anyway- I am embarking on this cliched resolution. Hopefully I can at least make it to spring when I can get out and start being active again. Either way- I am glad that I got to catch up with my old friend Billy today. Even if it is just for today- I was a warrior in Taebo today. A warrior that went to battle with determination and vigor. Long live resolutions!