My Boys

...are cracking me up.

After I came home from my weekend away, I was telling my kids how grateful I was to be home because I have the best kids and daddy in the whole wide world.

William's response:

"and you forgot to say that one of your kids is the best dang-lego builder in the whole wide world"

He has also been talking non-stop about how rich he is going to be when he grows up. Tell your kids to step back...because William is going to be richer than all of them.

I am trying to tell him that being rich isn't always a good thing, and the most important thing is to follow Heavenly Father's commandments.

William's response:

"Well who says I can't be rich and make good choices."

The other day at soccer practice Jake was seen off the field...running away...somewhere...not with a soccer ball.

I tried numerous times to coerce him back on the field.

Whenever I got him back on the field, the next moment I turned my head he was off again.

I decided to ask him what was going on.

Jake's response:

"Well, mom. I guess I'm just not a soccer player."

Are you serious kid? Do you love me? Do you love me?

If you love me you are going to play soccer. And in the words of your brother, you are going to be dang good at it, too.

I love my boys.

Rich,non-soccer players.

Time Out

This past weekend I journeyed up to Pittsburgh with a few friends for a "Time Out for Women" conference. We spent the night. We ate incredibly greasy, overpriced food. We laughed. And we cried. But most of all, I couldn't get my family back home out of my mind. I just kept thinking, "I miss my babies, I miss my babies."

I happened to know the final speaker from Utah. But I had never heard her story in its entirety.

She's blind. Her face has physical deformities. She was hilarious. She has a husband and two little boys. I kept looking at her on the big, black stage. She talked. And laughed about her condition and the funny circumstances that greet her each and every day. I kept thinking about her babies back home. Her two little boys. I kept thinking how different her life is from mine.

I thought about her boys receiving the priesthood at age 12. I thought about her in the audience. Looking to the podium but seeing nothing. Not seeing her precious child smile from the stand. Or his missionary farewell. How proud she will be. But not seeing one single facial expression.

I thought of her stroking her babies faces. Gliding her hands through their hair. Feeling the eyes, the noses and the mouth. Holding them and hugging them. Just like me. But seeing nothing.

Wait until this beautiful woman gets to heaven. Her eyesight will be restored. And she will look on her babies with the look of amazement. of wonder. She will still touch thier face, and she will hold them close, but this time, she will also see them. I cried. Thinking of her in Heaven with her babies. I really, really wanted to hold my babies. To be ever more grateful. Ever more loving, ever more affectionate.

I could post a picture of the wonderful friends I went to Pittsburgh with. But I have decided to post the picture that I came home to. That was in fact, the greatest part of my "Time Out." To return home to the people that I was "timed out" from.

I lay in bed that night with each of my children individually. I stroked their hair. I felt their faces. I sang them songs. I loved them. My babies.

I can't Believe it...

Naomi's FIRST play date. So sad. In fact, I hadn't even noticed. Until...I was pushing these two delightsome little girls in the stroller and I realized that I had never invited a friend over JUST for Naomi before. Pathetic.

With my first child, by the time he was sitting up by himself, I was hounding the phone trying to get other social 6 month olds over so they could stare at each other.

Now I'm on my third.

She's almost two.

Time changes things.

No wonder Naomi is so tom-boyish.

She hits, kicks, yells, steals things and whacks baseball bats at people.

She never plays with little girls.

I don't think she even knows what little girls do.

Oh, well. She makes a great little sister. or brother.

I lay in bed with Naomi singing Jesus songs to put her to sleep. She turned her little blonde bob into my face and looked in my eyes.

"Caw Caw" (or something that sounded like it)

I couldn't understand her. at all.

I kept guessing.

"Cook Cook. Do you want a cookie?"

She shook her head no. That was a first. She never turns down a cook cook.

She pointed to my mouth.

Oh, I thought. She is trying to tell me what song to sing.

caw caw, caw caw. What in the world is caw caw.

Then it clicked!

"oh, do you want me to sing "I am a child of God?" God, Caw, it's all the same, right?

She smiled and and shook her head happily.

I put my arm around her little body and sang. I think he were both in heaven.

Me and my Scout.

Laughter

I decided to pack a picnic and go have dinner at the park. The kids loved having their own little "lunch bunch"

A great thing about motherhood...you needn't travel far for a laugh.

Today I asked William if he liked his math teacher.
"Well, she's a little nice, a little mean sometimes. I guess she's like a little rough around the edges. But O.K. I guess."

After constructing a special Star Wars ship on his own he came to me that night and asked,
"Wouldn't you say that my Star Wars ship was a complete success?"

William has always loved words. Using different words. Ever since he was little he asks what every single word means in a book...I think he actually knows more difficult words than I do. But that's O.K. He also is in about 5th grade in comparison to when I went to school. These poor kids. Too much pressure!

Naomi has picked up on her brothers "potty humor"
Which is not looked well upon from the 30+ year olds around the house.

Whenever she sees someone naked she does this fake laugh and points her finger and says,

"pee pee, pee pee"
The boys think it HYSTERICAL and to them, they have converted the cutest member of the family to the dark side.
But we all know who wins in the end.

Plea

James is in Iowa on an interview. I do great for about 24 hours. Than I start to notice my patience slipping silently into thin air.
At about 3:30 I told the kids not to follow me. I was going to go to the bathroom all by myself. ( I was really going to kneel down on the side of the porcelain pot that is home to some of my most desperate pleas to my Father in Heaven.
They were dragging themselves behind me.
I tried to ascend the staircase but I found myself staring blankly at the worn, gross, needed to be vacuumed light tan carpeted stairs. I had two sets of tiny arms flung around my neck begging me to let them join me on the potty. I thought in that moment. A blessing. I knew it. But tired.
I made it.
Their little bodies are resting quietly in their beds. I just read a quote from President Hinckley telling us that we cannot raise these children on our own. We must call upon the powers of Heaven. It works.
You will make it. I will make it.
And we will most inevitably miss these precious days.
The days with tiny arms wrapped around our necks begging for our attention.
In 30 years I will be begging them for theirs.

Chicago

Welcome to Spring Break 2010

James had the foresight to use this as one of his weeks off. Wow! What a planner.

Thanks Daddy.

sooo...we set off to visit Grandma Cheryl and Grandpa Clyde on their mission in Chicago.

mommy's girl. a coke on the floor of the museum. exhausted.

future missionaries?

Holy Smokes! They have a Legoland Discovery center 20 minutes from Grandma's house. Besides seeing Grandma and Grandpa, this was the highlight of the trip.

This one needs to go in Uncle Chuck's office. We are POSITIVE his business would quadruple.

Naomi loved her grandma.

This was hilarious...James was trying to make everybody smile because he thought it would be a great Christmas card...I think it was a failure. Sorry, honey. Good Try.

Quite a success. Oh, except for:

my nearly two day migraine (almost puking in their parking plaza and being a little grumpy)

missing toll roads (a lot of them)(we are still waiting for the tickets to start rolling in)

a 9 hour drive home that was supposed to take only 6 hours. pouring rain. bald tires. need I say more?

midnight.

a flat tire on the freeway...

call AAA

wait as I hold the grumpy freshly woken kids in my lap squished on the front seat

fix the tire

continue driving home

our gas light goes on

we just kept driving

we made it.

We Love you Chicago...actually we just love our Grandma and Grandpa.

Thanks for letting us come visit!

Happy Easter

Just like in my youth, we split the money between the kids. Well, actually, just the boys. Poor Nomers. I actually forgot to get money that day and I almost used the boys piggy banks to fill the eggs. I figured it was going right back to the same place. James wouldn't let me. It wasn't honest. We searched around the house and found our extra change in the cabinet. Perfect.
Luckily they don't quite understand that it wasn't a whole heck of a lot of money. Nickels and dimes. A few quarters. Childhood. So easy to please.

Easter 2010

The shirts...the same gingham disaster from last year...but this year we added a tie. Perfect...and affordable. Naomi refused to do her hair. In fact, I was lucky to get the kid in the car and dressed. I keep telling myself that I need to start paying someone to do my kids pictures. It's just too emotionally draining to get the kids dressed, to a park, smiling and not losing anybody all by myself. I even had to tie and re-tie the boys ties. (lack of a father presence) I actually think I nailed it...for a girl. I figure, this is how Naomi's hair always looks...I might as well remember her as she is. Strong, Independent and Willful. My dad says that's how I used to be...I don't believe it. I am pretty sure I was perfect.

Things I say...but probably really shouldn't say to my kids...out of desperation:

1. Do you remember the kids in Haiti...do you think they would be grateful for this gift,

food, etc...

William once responded: "oh, no, mom. Please don't say Haiti, please don't say Haiti."

James said I probably shouldn't use that anymore for guilt purposes. It's really starting to effect Will. My response: Perfect. I'll keep it up. Nothing else is getting through.

2. When asked "why can't I do this, that or buy this, that? etc... ect... ect...

I respond: Because I don't want you to grow up to be a spoiled brat...do you want to grow up to be a spoiled brat and have no one like you?

3. When I can't handle the verbal 4 and 6 year old abuse anymore:

"Fine...if you don't like me you can go and find a new mom...good luck. I'm as good as it gets."

4. When I am holding them in my arms, I will whisper,

"Why do I love you so much?" (I think I got that line from my mom.)

Nothing you could ever do would ever make me stop loving you. Never Forget it. Never.