The JL McGregor Family

In which I set a goal

2018-03-07T15:40:00.002-05:00

I have been a mother for approximately 14.5 years. I worked the first two months of my son’s life and decided then that I wanted to be a stay at home mom. I don’t quite remember what made that decision, but the crying every morning when I left him at the sitter’s (me, not him, although he cried A LOT), the sleepless nights, and the fact that no one could possibly love my monster the way I could probably had something to do with it. Now, 14 years and 5 kids later, I find myself in the near-future of not having kids to stay home with as my youngest will begin kindergarten in 2 years. Last time I found myself in this position I got pregnant so I wouldn’t have to figure it out. I’m not saying that isn’t a solution, and I DO love every one of my kids, but I’m finding that it isn’t a permanent solution. Actually, it’s kind of a drastic solution. Also, because I know someone will say this, I refuse to homeschool my kids. So I find myself in this quandary: what am I going to do with my life?

I have a degree in English Education but I haven’t taught actual school since I quickly wrapped up student teaching with a tiny baby in my arms. Besides feeling a little intimidated to go back into the school system, I have a hard enough time dealing with my own kids—the prospect of dealing with other people’s offspring on a daily basis is, to be honest, frightening. (Thank you to all the educators out there!) It could happen, but I want to explore all my options before committing.

What do I have to put on a resume? I have been changing diapers, cooking, cleaning, potty-training, chauffeuring, personal assistanting, counseling, fashion consulting, doctoring, decorating, fight-breaking, yelling, laughing, teaching, and I am sure many other things for 14.5 years—and may I add, not very well. There are crumbs under the table, my kids constantly bicker, and today my two-year-old is wearing unmatched socks with his short, stained pants.

Then I asked myself what I enjoyed doing. That’s a humdinger. For basically all of my adult life I have been focused on helping others find joy and in that journey I feel like I have lost a little of myself. I like travel, books, music. But what did I DO FOR FUN before kids? I needed some time to think about that. I pulled out old pictures and studied myself, my surroundings, trying to remember, and I found traces there that are still in me now, as a mother. I saw the girl who found it funny to “dirty dance” in the Mom who paid her kids in Pokémon cards if they would play Just Dance with her on rainy days. I saw the explorer who traveled to China without knowing a word of Mandarin in the Mom who doesn’t care how many hours it takes to drive her kids across 17 states in 7 days so they could hit up as many cities and historical monuments as possible. I remembered the indecisive girl who thought about running away on her wedding day in the Mom who convinced her husband to cancel flight plans three times in one year! And finally, I read pages and pages of words that young girl wrote as she finished school, and later classes to keep her teaching certificate current, and I remembered the thrill of writing as I saw the Mom--that's ME--who loves to find the humor in every day, ordinary life, and I have this drive to record it—usually in the form of succinct(ish) facebook posts.

The dream began. I have two years before my youngest goes to school. I don’t know what I am going to do when he leaves me, but I don’t have to wait to rediscover myself. I am a professional mom. This year I will have spent a combined total of 46 years raising kids. This is who I am and who I will always be. I am going to record it. The dream is to turn it into a book—and right now I feel optimistic about it, but who knows what tomorrow will bring. Teenagers, that’s what.

counting by 10's

2017-04-10T14:46:00.001-04:00

My father turns 60 this year, which reminded me of attending a surprise 50th party for him a decade ago, which of course reminded me that 10 years ago this month my husband graduated from law school.

From there my thoughts turned to what life was like 10 years ago: two small children, ages three and one. One mini-van. Our first experience ever not in school: a job at a prestigious law firm, 1741 miles away in Cleveland, Ohio. A home to be bought.

2007 dreams for 10 years ahead: income!, another vehicle, a real dining table, perhaps more children, children going to school, student loans paid off, a bigger home, maybe partnership at said law firm, sharing life with friends and family.

Looking back over 10 years: economy crashed, job lost, home values plummeted, short-sold home. Moved to colorful rental. Started a law practice.

Faith.

Three more babies. Moved, three times. Two vehicles. Finally, income. Built a house. Four kids in school. Things we've tried: baseball, soccer, piano, oboe, gymnastics, tae kwon do, swimming, art, choir, student council, football, track, cross country. Still paying student loans. Friends lost, friends found. Friends moving away. Tears, laughter; exhaustion.

Looking ahead 10 years:

a 23 year old: Mission? College? Career? Married like his parents were at that age? Children?
a 21 year old: Mission? College? Career? Married?
19 year old: Mission?
16 year old: sophomore in high school. Sports, music, art.
12 year old: stinky, sports, music, camping with the scouts.

Me: TBD

Same house? New house? Student loans paid off--please. Travel. A patio (Joseph?).

Tears, laughter, Hope.

little moments like these

2016-10-13T23:22:00.002-04:00

First post on the new computer--a laptop! I am enjoying the click of the keys while I sit on the sofa after everyone has gone to bed. I don't get on the computer and write/type very often these days, but when we brought the computer home Logan challenged me to a type-off. He is in a computer programming class and his instructor told the class that if any of the kids could type faster than he (the instructor), he will waive their final in the class. Logan is at 35 words per minute and his teacher 65. He showed me the test online, and let me just say: I've still got it. 85 words per minute and 98% accuracy. I wonder what I was typing during my college days as an English major, spitting out pages and pages of papers every single day!

Anyway, it's been an interesting week. Yesterday I read an article that asked the question, "When was a time when you really lived in the moment?" Just a few days before that a friend shared a story of a mother stating that her biggest regret was not savoring the times with her children and then she talked about a moment that she could now look back on in a photograph and wished she could remember more of the feelings she felt during the moment. The next day I saw a picture of three of my children when they were very young, sitting together on a slide. It's like someone was sending me a message or something! I have been thinking about it ever since. So much of our lives these days seem to be simply getting through the day and getting to bed so that we can start a new day tomorrow. While I can remember specific instances of savoring a moment, I don't even know if I can remember when I last really just lived and loved in the moment! The heightened awareness of the question has helped me to live in the little moments today and I wanted to jot them down.

I jumped on the trampoline with Ammon. When my 5-times a mom bladder told me I should get off and he asked me to keep jumping, I kept jumping. We did a trick-off, where one person did a trick and the other person copied. He won with a flip....this body just can't do that anymore. We also discovered that it was fun to jump-sit on our bottoms, then hop up and give each other high-fives.

I held Auggie as much as I could today, trying to memorize the way he felt in my arms, and took notice of the way his body is stretching and thinning out. We had fun kicking a balloon back and forth to each other, and I think he is finally understanding the concept of taking a bite of something he doesn't really want in order to get a bite of something he does want. I took him into the dressing room with me (I bought a dress today that I would have worn in the 90's!!), and he had so much fun looking into the full length mirror. He would walk over to the side, then stick his head in to see himself, then arms, then legs. This is really a fun stage!

I sat at the piano and helped Grant practice a new song. He was getting frustrated because it takes some practice to make your left fingers move at a different speed than your right fingers. I got a little frustrated, too, to be honest (which is why I don't even try to teach them anymore and am paying someone else to teach them). But we made an agreement: hotdogs for dinner if he played through it 5 more times. Easiest dinner ever, and he's got that song down!

Logan is in Expo, which is basically the gifted and talented program. He needed a newspaper article that demonstrated a leader who displays at least four of the leadership qualities that they have been going over in class. Just a little ironic as right now the news does not really reflect great qualities of leaders in our country! We bought the Sunday edition with the hopes of having a better chance of finding something, and by some miracle we were able to find an article about FDR and an interview with George W. Bush. We waited until everyone had gone to bed before we scoured the articles and highlighted excerpts that could fit into the list of qualities. Usually I am anxious for everyone to go to bed, but tonight I was able to really enjoy talking to him about this grown-up, deep topic of leadership and the ideas discussed in the articles.

Sadly, I didn't have as much interaction with Madison. I will have to make it a priority tomorrow. Tonight she rushed through her piano practice and ran outside to play with friends. I did let her have extra rice crispy treats (which Ammon and I made tonight). I did confront her and a friend after I caught them riding skateboards, while sitting down, down the driveway and into the road--with my van in the other side of the driveway blocking their journey. I have been trying to ask questions instead of lecturing (soooo hard!), so I asked her why I didn't want them doing that and she was able to explain to me that cars would not be able to see down so low and the skateboards were going out so quickly (our driveway is on a slope) that they would not have time to stop even if they did see them. It was was a good, short conversation--we'll see if it makes a difference.

I guess that is enough to write about today. My hope is that if I am more aware of the moments that I will live in them a little more, and more joyously. And if I write them down I might just remember them a little bit better, and maybe I will even have more of them. Fingers crossed!

History of a Texas Trampoline

2016-09-29T13:34:00.001-04:00

I will get to the trampoline. But first, a picture to remind me of how an almost 13 year old boy thinks when he decides to make brownies by using one dish to mix and bake so he doesn't have to clean a separate bowl.

Now for the trampoline. During the Christmas season of 2011, we thought it would be mighty fun to have a trampoline in our backyard. January 2012: the McGregors buy a 14' trampoline.

The kids played on it. We made neighbors get permission from their parents to jump on it. It got hot. It got sunshiney. The padding deteriorated from the springs; the foam peeled off the poles. By the winter of 2013 the net was starting to get holes in it, which I (and my mother) painstakingly stitched up, and the trampoline was renamed Frankenline.

I regularly patched the net until it was unsalvageable, sometime in 2014. At that point I cut off the worst areas and left the rest of the net hanging loose. It looked (really) bad, but by that time we had started building a house and I thought we would just replace the net when we moved. After all, we never had a net on my childhood trampoline, and we were fine!

....Until a little girl I was babysitting flew off of the trampoline and slammed into the wooden fence. (I can't get the image out of my head.)

I Amazoned it that hour. $80 and 2-days later, we had a net to replace. If you have never put a trampoline together, you might not be aware that this means you unknot every string that is holding the net on, and then restring the trampoline to the springs. Loads of fun. Especially when you guess the middle wrong and figure out it doesn't stretch that far, so you get to start over a few times.

A few months later we moved. 2015. I was 7 months pregnant and it was ice storming while I once again unknotted and untied every net string. Luckily, some nice men from church helped us to take apart and then moved the rest of the trampoline.

While 8 months pregnant, I (and the kids) set up the trampoline and restrung the net. I was a balancing baby-belly trampoline goddess.

That summer (2015) the jump mat started ripping away from the springs. A neighbor fell through the side (are you seeing a pattern here?); that hour I ordered a new net. Two days and $80 later we once again unstring the net, replace the pad, and restring the net.

2016, this week. I am away from home and come home to: the net torn off of the metal ring on top. A neighbor apparently jumped into the net and the sunburned top just ripped right through the poles.

Today. I find black duct tape and tape around the entire top of the net. Anything to save a few bucks--and prolong the time until I will have to undo and redo the net.

So if you are thinking about buying a trampoline and you live in Texas, you have been warned.

in which life gets more complicated

2016-07-31T23:28:00.001-04:00

I guess you could say I am used to having little kids. I kind of know what to expect (which is not to say that I always know what to do). However, I feel like we are starting a new area of life and I can't see very far ahead of where we are going, and that is a little scary. I will call this change of life "adolescence." Logan and Madi will both be in middle school this year. The only experience with this stage that I know is my experience, and that makes me want to hide under the covers until it's over, and unfortunately that's not an option. Well, I mean, it might not turn out well if I did that.

Logan is starting football camp tomorrow, and I'm terrified for him. For many reasons that I don't want to go into, we decided not to invest a lot of our early childhood lives in extra curricular activities, so I am worried about him being behind everyone else. I am worried about the commitment. I am worried about him feeling like he doesn't fit in.

Madison is beginning the oboe this year. I love music, but I know nothing about the oboe. I don't know what reeds to buy, and I just found out what a spit cup is. I guess with this, and with adolescence, we will figure it out as we fake our way through it--just like we did when Logan and Madi were newborns and toddlers, and then starting kindergarten, and eventually there will be high school and college and life. Hopefully by the time Auggie gets to middle school we will be experts. Tired experts, but maybe a little more confident...as long as the others turn out ok, that is. Man, parenting is hard!

Speaking of Auggie, he is walking all over and babbling constantly. We think he says, "yes" (which is so strange), and "cheese." We think he might have a lazy eye--it is on my list of things to ask the pediatrician at his appt this month.

And finally, I got a new church calling. Our church (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints) is run by volunteers...well, we get volunteered and agree to volunteer. Anyway, I have been asked to be the leader over the young women ages 12-18 in our congregation (of over 500 people!! Only about 20 of those are YW). I am excited, but I have to be honest--it's a little overwhelming. The last year and a half I have been playing the piano and organ, and that has been a pretty easy and undemanding commitment. However, I accept and am happy about this new challenge and look forward to getting to know the youth in our area. Logan also does not mind the fact that this means more girls in our lives, and next year Madi will turn 12 and will get to join us. So yes, life is more complicated, and my experience is that it will continue to get more so, and we keep on growing and at the same time expanding in our capacity. Well, that's life!

Update

2016-06-15T22:02:00.001-04:00

Quick update on everyone:

Logan took a couple tests in May and as a result is skipping two years of math. I am proud of him and terrified for us both. He likes to work out and is supposed to be training for a 100 mile Appalachian Trail hike he is going on this summer.

Madi will be playing the oboe next year in band. She loves to take pictures and she is getting pretty good at editing them. She is beginning to play the piano in her spare time, without me nagging her. She is my artistic, creative child.

Grant is officially starting piano this summer. I have been teaching him lessons off and on, but he's ready for some consistency. He and Madi both have a talent for music. (Logan takes piano as well, and is doing well, but it is a little harder for him, which is ok--he needs to know what it's like to have to work for something because everything else comes so easily to him.)

Ammon and I are working hard on reading this summer. The first little bit is almost as frustrating as potty-training. He guesses more at the words than my other kids did. He's going to get it, though. He is probably our most athletic child--another thing I can't really help them with.

Auggie is still content to crawl, although he has started to do the crab walk and will walk on his knees. He has become a fantastic sleeper, and I'm greatful. I'm pretty sure he says, "yes," "this," "that," "mom," and "da." He can shake his head. I have no idea how intentional any of it is. He loves vegetables (especially beans, peas, broccoli, tomatoes, and corn) and all fruits. He usually likes meats and cheeses. He does not like to eat pasta or breads. I suppose that is healthy. He loves to play balls and roll cars. He can point to his belly-button and nose and spits when you ask him where his tongue is. He has 8 teeth....and I'm pretty sure right now he is getting 8 more all at the same time!

ready or not, here we summer!

2016-06-07T19:21:00.003-04:00

Last week Auggie and I spent a few days in Idaho for my baby brother's wedding. It was fun to see everyone, but boy were we tired and ready to come home! Auggie was a champ, and also very adorable. Joe and the other four kids didn't come because it was the last week of school. The last few years I have set up parties for the kids to celebrate, so it was honestly a little bit sad to be missing the most exciting and fun day of the year...also I missed Madi's fifth grade graduation and Ammon's preschool graduation. Everyone survived, so I guess we will move on to summer.

I woke up on Sunday morning to kids shoving granola bars and toast in their mouths. I grouchily declared it was Fast Sunday, and I kid you not--it was like turning the light on and bugs scattering out of sight. The kids ran up stairs and disappeared. I decided we might as well go ahead and eat breakfast, and over breakfast I informed the kids of our summer schedule.

*No coming downstairs until 6:30. (WHAAAT? WHHYYYY?)

*AND your bed has to be made, bedrooms and bathrooms tidy, and dressed for the day. (NOOOOO!)

*Freetime until 7:30, when we will be eating breakfast. (BUT MOM!!!!! Don't YOU want to sleep in?)

*Also, each day a different child will be in charge of making all the meals and cleaning up after those meals. (No one seemed too upset about this.)

I won't bore you with the rest of our (very horrible and unreasonable) routine, but the best comment of the morning was Madison's, "We might as well go back to school."

Second place came from Logan, "Why can't we just have free time all day?"

HAHAHAHA!

We are only on day 2, and so far so good. Logan's orange chicken was so delicious that last night Auggie literally licked his plate clean! We have gone swimming with friends, read and read, visited the library, and tomorrow we will run errands. Oh, and I made a list of jobs for the kids and told them they got to CHOOSE which three they wanted to do every day. Who knew that they would be in such a hurry to pick and complete theirs first--before anyone else could claim the "easy" ones. I highly recommend this chore system.

Sooo tired on the airplane.

Auggie played at the kids' table during the reception.

Picnic at Twin Falls.

He loved Aunt Ame's glasses!

hello sunshine!

2016-04-21T16:26:00.000-04:00

It's been a long 19 hours. So long it took me about 30 seconds to figure out how many hours it's been since: the ceiling started leaking at 8:00 pm last night. Like--water pouring out of a light in the kitchen! This could be a really long story, but no one wants to hear that, and I'm certainly tired of thinking about it. So long story as short as possible:

The ceiling started leaking while Grant was showering last night, but it took a while (and several people) to discover what the cause of leak was because it was not under the bathroom, but under the air conditioning units, which have already been working hard because it's April in Texas. I called a water-damage specialist this morning to get an assessment, and he estimated $3,000-$4,000 worth of damage.

Now, in the long run, there are a lot worse things. I kept telling myself that it was like going to the emergency room (with our insurance, anyway), and reminded myself that money is replaceable. However, it's not really how I want to spend money.....

Our builders (contractors) came out to help solve the problem (because the first guy said he thought it was behind the wall). It is the builder's job to help fix anything that is their fault, and when they found out that everything was working right (except for my kids taking showers) they could have just walked away.

But they didn't. They listened to the first guy tell them about all the stuff we would have to do to dry out and repair the ceiling. And then when everyone was gone, our builder, Alex, called me and asked if I would like him to come assess everything and tell me his opinion. Yes, please.

He cut a hole in my ceiling and discovered that other than about a 1"x12" section, everything was dry (thanks to all that water that poured out of the light instead of pooling on the sheetrock)! He pulled up the carpet in the boys' closet, determined that the pad was only damp, and instructed me on how to care for and return it to its spot in a week, after everything has had time to dry out. He also said he would take care of the hole in the wall they had cut and that the only thing I would need to cover was the hole in the ceiling (which his people will do when they repair the other hole). Tops cost: $100, and probably closer to half that.

Lessons I'm learning:

1. Bad things always happen when Joe is out of town.
2. It must be so that I can become confident in knowing that whatever happens, I've got this.
3. Come what may and love it (Joseph B. Wirthlin).
4. Everything is going to be O.K. This ended up not being a big deal, and like I said, even if it had been a bigger deal, there are worse things in life. I know that in the end, it will be O.K. There is simply no other choice, and life goes on.
5. We need to have a family home evening lesson on how to take showers without getting water on the floor. (swimming suits everyone?)
6. If you decide to build, go with a good builder. I highly recommend Horizon/Highland Homes.

a history of tables

2016-03-09T22:35:00.001-05:00

Our Chinese teacher at BYU-Idaho gave us our first table when Joe and I got married--almost 15 years ago. It was a heavy-duty, blond, round library table. It was also pre-digital camera, so I don't have a picture of it. It was plenty big enough for our little family of two, and we even had room to invite friends and coworkers over for dinner somewhat frequently.

Three years and one child later we moved to a (maybe) 500 square foot cinder block apartment at BYU-Provo. We hauled that table up 3 flights of stairs and quickly realized it would not fit into our tiny, tiny kitchen space, so we took it to a thrift store and then went straight to Walmart to buy a $40 card table. That was a lot of money for us! Then we added Madison, and as you can see, it was a little tight.

In 2007 we moved to Cleveland, Ohio to start life out of college. Our first real furniture purchase ever (and we waited until we knew Joe had passed the bar) was to buy a real table! We spent something like $800. We loved it, and we loved all the space we had for our growing family (Grant came right after). We moved that table across the country to Texas, and then moved it to two more homes (a total of four homes) and added two more kids (Ammon and August). We celebrated birthdays, made food, colored eggs, carved pumpkins, painted pictures, assembled puzzles, and created pinewood derby cars at that table. We now officially had more people than seats, and finding room for friends and family became a little tricky.

We started to look for a new table, and sales clerks would laugh when I told them I needed a tough table--one that would allow fork gouges and permanent marker stains to add character. I usually start all our furniture purchases off with, "I have five kids." Eventually, I learned about this kind of table called a "farmhouse" table. As it turns out there are quite a few do-it-yourself plans online, but if you know us at all, you know that our do-it-yourself skills are pretty lame. Anyway, long story short, there is a guy about three streets away who is always making tables in his garage and on his driveway. We told him what we needed and he delivered it to our house this week. I pretty much had no idea what it would look like, and to make it even more exciting and suspenseful, I asked him to combine two different colors of stain, and this is what he came up with.

It has taken me a few days to get used to the new look in our dining area. It seems like it's twice the size of our last table, and we are going to have to teach our kids to pass plates and food because it's too big to reach across. Someday I would like to find better matching chairs, but for now our old ones will do.

The table isn't perfect, and there are already dings and marks in it. It is heavy duty, will last forever (hopefully!), and forks and permanent markers will only add to the beauty of the table. The bench is sturdy and can fit a lot of little bottoms on it. In fact, we can easily fit everyone at the table, and we can fit you, too!

Tonight as everyone was cleaning up after dinner (and Grant was sweeping the floor), I felt a little warm fuzzy as I realized that this is a place where we will make thousands of new memories. Food made and eaten. Hours and hours of math homework cursed at and completed. Games played. Birthdays celebrated. Friendships made. Good and hard conversations had. We will laugh and cry and pray and learn at this table.

So anyway, make your reservations and get in on the memories.

separate identities

2016-02-10T15:02:00.002-05:00

Yes, yes; it's been a while. I'm so far behind on the blogging that I don't think I will even try to catch up. The truth is that I'm too tired and too busy to use Auggie's nap time to blog. However, the last few days I have been made extra-aware that my children are growing up, and the memories deserve more than a facebook post.

1. Two of my wonderful, sweet ~~babies~~ kids have informed me that my van music (country) stinks. "Please turn it off, " they say. "It's giving me a headache." I turn it up louder so I can sing louder, but they just get louder, too.

2. This week Logan was personally invited to be in an after-school club. I am so happy. It feels like he's sort of finding his niche, and I think it's a safe one. Which club, you ask? The calculator club.

3. Auggie is nine months old. Gulp. It is happening way too quickly. Diaper-changing has turned into a battle over who can out-smart and over-power the other person. Sleep has gotten a little more consistent, so that part I'm ready for.

Well, that about takes up the 10 minutes I allotted to blogging. Back to the grind.

all things Auggie

2015-10-28T21:50:00.001-04:00

I LOVE this age! Every day I find myself consciously trying to memorize the imprint of his body in my arms. I kiss his chubby cheeks and tickle his feet and I squish his fluffy thighs. He is happy and content and curious and fun, fun, fun.

His first tooth is growing in nicely, and a second tooth is about to pop through.

We started giving him solids at dinner time, and it makes him so happy!! Seriously, he physically jumps up and down in the high chair and moves his wide-open mouth to the spoon. The baby cereal says to start with a tablespoon, and I think we are giving him almost a quarter cup! He is sleeping through the night better, too, so that tale about solids and sleeping must be true.

Auggie has been rolling over for about a month, but in the last week or so he has discovered that rolling can get him places, and he can get from one side of the room to the other more quickly than I am ready for him to move! I fear that soon he will be crawling, which means we will have to get a baby gate for the stairs and keep the floor free of Legos and beads. He is sitting up pretty well, and we've started letting him sit in the grocery cart, which makes life so much easier.

Auggie loves to read; he paws at the books and turns pages, and apprently they taste great. He is figuring out how to play (pound on) the piano, which makes my heart go pitter-patter. He loves to drop toys on the floor. He likes to play with his toes. He loves to go on walks in the stroller.

Auggie spends a lot of time admiring his hands and fingers, and I love to watch him as he places them in front of his face and twists and turns and bends them. I wonder what he thinks about his amazing body as he discovers the things he is capable of doing. A few days ago we were playing with feet and I showed him mine and wiggled my toes. He smiled big and wiggled his toes back for me, and then laughed when I praised him.

We are working on taking longer naps. I think because our schedule is not super consistent (with running back and forth to school, play groups, and grocery shopping), he has gotten into the habit of taking several 20-30 minute naps during the day--usually in the car. I would really like him to take a shorter nap in the morning and evening and one long nap between 12:00-3:00 in the afternoon.

Auggie is wearing 6-9 month clothes and some 12 month clothes. He's my tall, giant baby, and we all love him.

Every time I try to take a picture of him admiring his hands I end up distracting him. This is the best I could get.

August in September

2015-09-21T16:12:00.000-04:00

Better late than never? Also, maybe someday I will come up with more creative titles.

At 4 months Auggie:

weighs 16 lbs 1 oz
is 26" long
can roll from front to back
has rolled from back to front a few times
likes to blow bubbles
likes to make spitting noises
likes to sleep in his crib
falls asleep on his own
is not sleeping through the night very often (insert very sad face)
is a happy baby
likes to suck on his bottom lip
puts everything in his mouth

Auggie at 4ish months

And just because it's fun, we were looking at old pictures last night to see who August looks the most like. Wow! Time flies! I love the different backgrounds, too, as they remind me of the many different places we were in life as each child was added to our family.

Logan 4ish months in Rexburg, Idaho. Joe and I were both finishing our undergrad degrees.

Madi 4ish months (Logan 2 and Joe 25) in Provo, Utah (Wymount!) for law school.

Grant 4ish months in South Euclid, Ohio. Joe was working for Roetzel and Andress.

Another Grant at 4ish months (Madi 2 and Logan 4). I had to include this one because Ammon was playing doctor with Auggie this morning using this same doctor set. Love!

Ammon 4ish months with his great-grandma. Picture taken at Grandma and Grandpa's house in Pennsylvania. Joe had recently started his own law practice and we had just moved to a rental home in North Dallas.

Sooo.... who do you think he looks like?

balls and babies

2015-09-16T22:26:00.003-04:00

Our 8 yr-old computer is slower than slow and my phone freezes every 3 seconds, so basically my communication with the outside world is nonexistent right now, which is ok, I guess. I can focus on the important things. Like the notes I find on Madison's door. (I'm sure going to miss this stage in life where my kids leave the funniest writings scattered all over the house.)

You see, a few days ago Madison and Ammon were play-fighting with an orange hopper ball. You know--those balls with a handle that you can hop on. Anyway, Madison kicked it right on top of Auggie's face. Joe and I were right there and we both kind of gasped. Auggie did, too, and then he smiled this big smile like, "Hey, I think I just felt something!" We still had to reprimand the offenders, and Madison may have shed a few tears because she knew that she had just kicked a BALL on her baby brother's face.

We spent the rest of the day teasing her about balls and babies, which apparently she did not appreciate.

I will say this, though. Life is a lot more fun when you can have a good sense of humor.

excitement

2015-09-01T15:19:00.002-04:00

Auggie slept through the night for a few weeks and is back to waking up at least once. I found these skeleton jammies at Walmart for $5, and I'm glad I got them because they glow in the dark and make waking up in the middle of the night a little more fun. So fun, in fact, that at 3 a.m. this morning Joe and I were laughing together as we watched his skeleton body kick and squirm. Even though I do wish he would sleep more than 7 hours straight (or maybe I just need to go to bed earlier), he is a joy to be around. He is happy during the day and takes two long, consistent naps.

Oh my gosh, he's cute!

Ammon started preschool today! He is very excited that it is finally his turn to go to school. I asked him if he missed me and he politely told me, "No, not at all." I guess that is a good thing.

So what did Auggie and I do with our 4 hours alone? We took a walk and played together for a few minutes. We whipped up dinner and made two extras to take to other families. We visited a friend who just had adorable twin girls. I can't imagine! Next time I will find someone to watch Auggie first so I can help her hold and feed her babies without him getting jealous halfway through. We visited another friend whose baby is one week younger than Auggie. We got the babies together and they just smiled and smiled at each other. Then we came home, ate lunch, and picked up Ammon.

I have grand plans for our two days a week alone. Volunteer at school, clean, eat lunch with Dad, serve others in our community, go shopping, go visiting teaching, maybe even go back to bed. I'm not sure how to prioritize because they all sound so wonderful!

Logan, Madi, and Grant are all doing well at school as well. I am especially excited about Madison's teachers because she's excited about school. It sounds like they are making learning a lot of fun by using music and videos to teach language arts and science.

In all, today has been a really rewarding day. I know not everyone desires to be a stay-at-home mom, and not everyone has the opportunity to be a SAHM, but I am grateful for the choice, and I am happy with what I have chosen. I am grateful that Joe is happy with our choices as well, and thankful that he has the ability to support us.

Speaking of Joe (this might embarrass him a little bit), but I think he's amazing. Sometimes we get so caught up on making it through the day by fulfilling our role, whatever that may be, that by the end of the day we are both exhausted, and when that becomes a habit I think that it is easy to take each other for granted instead of acknowledging and appreciating what the other person does. Sometimes, if you are like me, you don't even know that is happening until something changes. The last few weeks Joe has broken that cycle in our family by being extra helpful and loving to everyone, but especially to me. I've noticed that as he makes more effort to help me that I want to make more effort to help him, and by the end of the day we might still be exhausted, but it is a happy and fulfilling exhaustion. Anyway, I won't get too mushy, but it has been a great experience and lesson to me about how love and kindness motivates and changes people, and if you feel a desire to break the exhaustion cycle in your home this might be a good experiment for you to try, too.

Finally, this is the recipe I made today. I don't know if it will be any good, but if it is, it's a keeper because it looks fancy, will hopefully taste great, and is easy, easy, easy! (Isn't it funny that we always try new recipes when we give our food away? Scary!)

second day of school

2015-08-25T15:01:00.001-04:00

I don't have time to write because for the second day in a row the boys are taking naps at the same time and I want to take a nap, too! So of course I decided to paint a dresser and read a book and now I'm running out of time... but first...

This is what my kids looked like on the first day of school. They look pretty cute, if I do say so myself. You would never guess (maybe) that I had to beg and plead with most of them to wear something nice. I was told more than once, by more than one child, that he or she was old enough to choose his or her own clothing. I promised that after the first day of school I wouldn't be so controlling. I just needed a picture, that's all. They complied.

Day 2. Sadly, I have no picture. But Grant came downstairs wearing some gray athletic shorts and a stretched out, wrinkled Spiderman t-shirt. I shared my opinion ("It looks like you are wearing jammies, Grant." "Mom, this is comfortable!") and then I let it go. After all, a promise is a promise.

As we were waiting for the bus he looks at me with some alarm and says, "Mom, I forgot to change my shirt!" Whoa, what? "Yeah, I slept in this last night!"

I did not say, "I told you so." I did not panic. And the boy went to school wearing the same shirt he slept in.

I suppose this is what happens when you have 5 kids.

sacred moments

2015-08-21T19:29:00.002-04:00

There is a sacredness that comes with the last few days of summer vacation. The mornings stay dark a little longer and the sun goes down a little earlier. Sometimes, if you are lucky, the days will begin to be a little cooler. There are resolutions to hug your babies and big kids more often; there are moments that you swear under your breath, and the first day of school can't come quickly enough.

Last night was back to school night. This is a hectic hour where you drag around 100 pounds of school supplies, race from room to room, and you pray like crazy that your kids will make friends and learn much.

I will miss the sleeping in. I will miss the help with Auggie. I will miss the outings. I will miss my kids.

Today was practice day. I got up at 6:00 a.m. to shower and get ready for the day. It helped that Auggie slept 11 hours last night!!! The kids got up and dressed and we left the house at 7:25 to get donuts. We brought milk, cheese sticks, and grapes and had a picnic breakfast at the elementary school playground. Then we played.

One last summer outing.

From there we took Logan to the middle school for a 6th grade orientation. He received a locker, we picked up his gym clothes, and he learned about being a 6th grader.

The counselor (the one I posted about a few weeks ago) talked to us for a bit and explained that 6th grade would be the last year where parents would be the most influential person in our child's life.

Terrifying! Scary! No! No, I'm not crying right now.....

The counselor also said that studies show that this generation has a better relationship with their parents than any other generation.

Logan is so ready for this. He showed me how to open his locker. They ran out of the adult small shirts so we bought him a medium--and it doesn't even look that big! I look at him and he looks so tall, mature, handsome.

Look at her long, long legs! Won't be long before she is as tall as I am.

I love these pictures. They are all in different places, and Logan is taking off. I am so in love with them, and grateful for the meaning they have brought to my life.

One more year with this boy before he leaves me all day.

Madi selfie. I love my boys, but I'm so glad I have my girl!

on my mind

2015-08-16T17:25:00.002-04:00

Last week we took a quick day trip to see Joe's parents who live about 3 hours away. We told the kids that when we got there that there would be no screen time; they would have to be creative about what they would do while we were there, especially since playing outside in August in Texas is pretty much a no-go. About 30 minutes into our visit there was some whispering about ipods and ipads and a comment like, " Mooom, what can I doooo?" I advised this child to talk to Lola (Joe's mom). "Talk about what?" "Well... Lola didn't have ipods and ipads, ask her what she did when she was your age during the summer."

I was lucky enough to be part of the conversation, and what I heard got me thinking. It turns out that Lola got up early and worked all day picking cotton. In the heat. I'm not sure why I was surprised; we have summer vacation precisely so that kids can help on the farm.

I know some of you live in the country and the summer really is a busy time full of hard work, but most of the people I know (including us) live in the city, and somewhere along the way summer has become our opportunity to:

sleep in
go swimming
stay up late
go to the movies
play with friends
take vacations
visit museums
make as many memories as possible
fun!fun!fun!

I have had a whole week to think about this, and I've come to the conclusion that we--I, my family--need to have a summer readjustment (I guess for next year, since summer is basically over). All of these things are fun, and even good, but I feel like what I am teaching my kids is that our life goal is to focus on ourselves, and to have fun instead of the goal of working hard and becoming productive human beings who make the world a better place.

I'm not sure what to do about this, because the truth is that I like to have fun and working hard is, well, hard. I can teach my kids to sweep and mop and cook and clean, and that is all good (and I am attempting to do these things), but I feel an increased desire and urgency to change our goals to something other than "having fun." I think we can make even better memories by working hard together and serving others.

I just have to figure out how to do that (hopefully indoor).

confessions

2015-08-15T23:06:00.003-04:00

It's 9:45 p.m. and all the kids are finally in bed. This is not to say that they are asleep (or even really in bed), only that they are upstairs and I am choosing to pretend that they are in bed by ignoring the thumping and occasional conversational noise above my head.

They went to bed a little later than usual tonight because we just celebrated Madison's 10th birthday by inviting 5 pre-teen girls over. After friends left for the night I rushed my own children through the nightly list...teeth brushed, family prayer, jammies. You know the routine. Sounds simple, right? As I reflected over my almost 12 years of parenting (33.3 years if you add all the kids ages together), I couldn't help but notice how my parenting has changed.

11 years ago routine: child takes bath, parent reads child book, sing a song together, brush teeth, cuddle, family prayer, check on kids before I go to sleep, comment about how cute and precious they are.

These days routine: yell at kids to get their pajamas on, ignore the fact that they are still wearing the same clothes they wore all day (did they wear it yesterday, too?), fast prayer (Ammon!), give them a hug and tell them to go to bed, warn them about crazy-mom if they come downstairs again.

Sometimes people ask me what the difference is between 4 and 5 kids. There's not a huge difference, besides the fact that babies are a lot of work balanced by the fact that the big kids are great helpers. I'm just worn out. I don't want to walk up the stairs at 9:30 at night to sweetly tuck everyone into bed. I don't have the energy to keep telling kids to put on pajamas.

It's enough to just pretend they are in bed, asleep. Fake ignorance is bliss. And if you think I'm a horrible mom--keep it to yourself, thanks.

Only one more week until school starts!

3ish months

2015-08-15T15:55:00.001-04:00

Dear August,

You recently passed the three-month mark and you no longer look like a newborn, but instead you are a 15 pound baby! Your cries are beginning to sound different; sometimes you screech or whimper, other times you wail, and every once in a while you really let loose. You babble and make the cutest little noises. You are a great eater (did I mention you are 15 pounds?!) and you get hangry if I try to rush you or cut your feeding short. You like to look at me and smile while you eat, and I am thankful that I have this special bond with you.

You are becoming a better sleeper. On Madison's birthday we put you to bed at 8:00 pm and you slept until 5:00 am, which made me so, so happy. You will be sad when all the kids go back to school (they love you and entertain you all day long), but it will be nice to get you on a good schedule so that you can take regular naps, especially since you now nap better in your crib than on the go in your car seat.

You like to make a face that we call "bug eyes." It's really pretty funny. You don't like to be poopy or wet. Your brothers and sister are getting better at changing your diapers. You like to go swimming and you love baths.

You can roll over from your stomach to your back, but it might actually be accidental because when you get tired of being on your stomach you put your head down and the rest of your body flips over. You are beginning to prefer mom over others (awe, you do love me!). You are starting to drool (I hope it is many months before you get teeth) and you constantly and frantically suck on your fingers.

Your nicknames include Cinco (Dad's), Auggie Doggy, Auggie Froggy, Guster, and baby.

We love you Auggie!

crazy bug-eyes

awk-wArd

2015-08-04T14:28:00.001-04:00

The kids are all registered for school. Yup. I dragged 5 kids, ages 11, almost 10, 7, 4, and 3 months (almost) to two different schools and registered three of them for school. Piece of cake. They were so well-behaved and I'm sure our new schools are going to be so happy and blessed to have them there. Good thing it was first thing in the morning (before they all get tired of being around each other); also I bribed them all with a piece of gum.

We started at the elementary school and then moved on to the middle school. As we were finishing up at the middle school I asked if we could take a walk around the school. The lady helping me said, "Sure, let me get the 6th grade counselor to show you around."

A few minutes later a nice-looking and obviously in-shape older man walks over to us. He is tan with spiky hair, has tattoos on his arms and around his collar. He introduces himself, shakes our hands, and invites us into his office. Then he starts talking and he's so nice... like counselor nice...which was kind of weird because his conversation and his appearance were so incongruent. He asks Logan if he's nervous for school, and Logan (who didn't really want to come in the first place) kind of shrugs, so to break the silence I say something like, "Oh, it's Mom who is nervous!" The counselor looks at me and says very seriously, "Let's talk about that, Mrs. McGregor. What are you nervous about?" I try to deflect the question with some non-funny joke mumbo-jumbo, and he starts talking about how hard middle school is and how important it is to find the right friends and he suggests getting involved in clubs. He asks Logan what clubs he might be interested in. Logan shrugs. So I ask if there is a chess club. The counselor kind of looks surprised, and Logan gives me a look. Again, a moment of silence, so I say, "He always wants me to play chess with him." Logan gives me another look and says something that sounds like denial.

We talk about something else for a minute and the counselor leaves to get something. Logan looks at me and says, "Really Mom, chess??" I start laughing as the counselor returns and asks why I am laughing. I say, "Apparently the chess club is a no-go." Logan gives me another look and says, "Really Mom?" The counselor shows us a form, reads through it with us word-for-word, and explains that if Logan needs help he can fill out the form and submit it anonymously. It includes things like anger management, bullying, trouble at home, etc. I almost choke on laughter. Logan looks at it like, "Why are we here?"

Anyway, I don't know if this sounds funny to anyone else, but when we got home and I called Joe to tell him about the morning I started laughing so hard that tears started leaking out and the kids got a little alarmed. This always happens when I have mixed emotions, and it's always kind of at inappropriate times. It must be some sort of defense mechanism. (By the way, when I told Joe about the chess club comment he kind of groaned, "Oh, Jenny, really?" Am I becoming a smother mother?)

The truth is, I am kind of excited for my kids to go back to school. But every year is kind of scary. Starting a new school is kind of scary. Middle school is terrifying!! Growing up is terrifying!! And to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure I'm ready for this, and I sure hope that the kids are. Time: Slow Down! (By the way, we did eventually get to tour the 6th grade hall.)

celebrating life

2015-08-03T10:46:00.000-04:00

I still hesitate when I tell people that our baby's name is August. It doesn't flow easily out my mouth because it's so different. Now that it's the month August I feel like when I say the word "August" I have to clarify if I am talking about the month August or the cute baby August. The truth is that last year I took two writing classes and I ended up writing a lot about family history and family members who impacted my life and who I am--my family's life and who we are. When we found out we were having another boy we wanted to name him after two of those special people. I look forward to telling August stories about the men he was named after, and I hope he is proud of his name, even if does get a little confusing, especially during the month of August. Augustus Goss is my grandfather, and I recently discovered that he was named after his grandfather. I want to talk about him later. Soon. August Benjamin got his middle name from my brother, Benjamin. His birthday is tomorrow. He would be 33. His age has always been easy for me to remember because, except for the months between May and August, it is always one year less than whatever my age is. August is an interesting month because his birthday is August 4th, and the day he died was August 13. I decided many years ago that August 4th is the day that I will remember him and celebrate his life. On August 12 I usually think about what I was doing the night before he died, and on August 13 I always spend a few minutes reliving those memories. That is a sad day. But on August 4 we like to talk about Ben and tell stories about Ben and even eat Ben's favorite foods. This is a happy day. About 4 years ago I wrote down a few memories, and almost every year I go back and expand on that writing until last year, when it become an essay. Some of you have read some of this before, but I never put the final essay up, I'm not sure why. Perhaps because it's so personal. Partly because I kind of wanted to try to get it published (I might still do that...someday). Today I thought my computer crashed and I almost panicked because I don't think I ever printed it out, and honestly, I think it is the best writing I have ever done. I realize that today is August 3rd and I'm getting a head start on remembering, but I invite you to remember with me.

Remembering Ben

Friday, August 13, 2004. The old-fashioned phone started shrilling at 6:30 a.m. that morning. I was asleep, unsuspecting, and when my husband knelt by my side to tell me that my Mom was on the phone, I supposed that she had forgotten the two hour time difference between Pennsylvania and Utah. I slid out of bed and walked into the living room to retrieve the phone, and faking an "I'm awake!" voice said, "Hey Mom, what's up?" There was a brief silence and then the words, "I'm so sorry, Jenny. Ben was in a really bad car accident last night." "Oh. Well, he's ok, right?" "Well, no, Jenny. Ben died." I wrapped the curly cord around my index finger, starting at the base and working the cord to the tip of my finger. "Are you sure?" "Yes, I'm so sorry." Silence. "What happened? Where? How?" A pause. I don't think she was crying. I don't think I was crying, not yet. There was too much to think through to focus on the words. Missed a stop sign. Van hit him. Unconscious when they got there. Heart burst. They say no pain.

I have known several who have died in car accidents over the years, acquaintances. I have heard stories on the news, overheard conversations in grocery stores, of those young and old, whose allotted time on earth had been prematurely cut short because of some unexpected driving error, caused by themselves or some stranger on the road. I hear the stories, but they are separate from me, an unfortunate reality for somebody else. This thing, it could never happen to me. And so I found myself unable to grasp the words that were dripping into my ears from out of that bulky, old-fashioned phone receiver.

There were 42,636 fatalities in the United States caused from car accidents the year that Ben died. 13,627 of them, a whole 21%, were caused from failing to stop at a stop sign. Funny, but not really, that we can go back, years later, and find an exact number, an analysis of the dead and how they got there, and for one second, two, three, I wonder which number my brother became. It was hard to believe, really, that Ben would fail to stop at a sign he had been stopping at since the day he got his driver’s license at age 16. It had to be some sort of mistake, a brake failure maybe. I even suggested that they have the truck's brakes checked, as if that would somehow make a difference, bring him back. Were we sure the other driver had his headlights on? And I wonder if it would have been easier if we had someone different, a stranger, to blame for his death. Ben couldn’t have missed that stop sign; he was a good driver. He and I had driven across the country from Pennsylvania to Idaho during the summer of 2000. We would switch drivers every time we stopped for gas—my time driving always shorter than his because he enjoyed the control of the gas pedal, and I enjoyed the control of my time as he counted down the miles. Ben knew about driving, and cars. After all, he sold tires at the regional car races. He even transformed a red Pontiac Grand Am into a car that he raced at a demolition derby. How did he miss that stop sign? He was a good driver! Surely he would not miss a stop sign. Now, ten years later, as I ponder his fatal error, I realize that perhaps I was wrong. He had just 6 years of driving experience; he died 9 days after turning 22.

After receiving the call that their son, Benjamin, had been in a car accident, Mom and Dad drove to the hospital in silence, wondering, speculating. They were taken to a small room near the entrance, where they were told that Ben had died. They were led to a table to acknowledge a body that was covered by a sheet, with only a wooden beaded necklace decorating its frame. They walked around the hospital for a few minutes, hugging and crying, and then, instead of having time to grieve, they had to start planning. Who to call first? Young kids to take care of, a funeral to arrange. Countless calls were sent and received that day, including mine.

Friday the thirteenth. It's a blur. My brother, Dennis, who was attending college at BYU-Idaho, got a ride down to Provo and stayed with us. I walked over to our neighbor’s apartment, the words stumbling out of my mouth one at a time that I would need to cancel our dinner plans because my brother had just died. They didn’t know what to say, but I wanted them to say something—give me hope, reassurance. But instead they asked, "Was it expected?" "No." And I walked away, left with a lifetime to wonder if I would have felt differently, better, if his death had been expected. I suppose there would have been closure; time to say goodbye, the opportunity to say, “I love you.”

People have been dying for…forever. It is part of our life cycle. It’s inevitable. And yet for some reason we fear death. We fear it for ourselves, of course, but perhaps an even greater fear is the fear of loved ones dying, for it is those of us who are left behind who must grieve. Even after a millennia of dying, we still don't know what to say to someone who is grieving. At best, we offer our condolences, at worst, we give advice and say "at least." At least it was fast. At least you got him for 22 years. My husband, perhaps also at a loss of words, gave me a book, Jesus Wept, to help me understand loss and grief, and that is where I first read about the 5 stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining and guilt, depression, and acceptance. I would study the stages, trying to assign my grief to a number, wondering most of all how long it would take to get to number 5. Acceptance. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, the woman who first explored the five stages of grief, explained that they “were never meant to help tuck messy emotions into neat packages. They are responses to loss that many people have, but there is not a typical response to loss, as there is no typical loss. Our grieving is as individual as our lives.” I like that. Because just as I begin to find rest in the acceptance stage, I visit Ben’s headstone with my four children, and they ask me about him, and what he was like, and where he’d be today, and once again I feel the pressure behind my eyeballs when I tell them that maybe, probably, he would have kids by now, and that they would have cousins. Friends. Maybe we would all be friends. But what might have been is only an emotional game of speculation, a game that perhaps is better left unplayed.

Monday. Dennis, Logan, and I flew to Buffalo, New York. Joe didn't go. It was his first day of law school, and besides, we didn’t have the money to fly both of us. It was a quiet day with silent thoughts and tears. When we arrived at the farm, there were too many cars at the house. People started parking in the fields across the road. There were bodies painting the porch, tractors tearing down and moving an old, falling down granary across the road, and old friends inside cleaning the house and collecting clothes that needed to be ironed. They didn't know what to say, either, but through service united their grief with ours.

I couldn’t sleep that night, and I hadn’t been able to sleep for more than a few hours since receiving the phone call on Friday. Despite the exhaustion, my thoughts would not rest as I spent the lonely hours of the night replaying memories and trying to comprehend what I knew was true but what didn’t seem possible. Logan, not understanding our new sleeping arrangements—his pack and play was just three feet away from the futon I was sleeping on—refused to sleep as well. He began crying, screaming really, his inconsolable tears mixing with mine as I pleaded with him, and at the same time prayed to God, for sleep. Dad, awakened by the noise, walked quietly up the stairs and collected Logan. He put his arm around my shoulders and commanded me to sleep. Tears continued to leak through closed eyelids; sleep would not come. It was quiet then. I noticed that the light was on at the apartment over the garage, so I slid my feet into shoes and walked across the yard. When I cracked open the door, I saw Dad on the floor playing with Logan. He noticed me, and mouthed, “Go to bed. Sleep.” I wonder what he was thinking as he played with my 10 month old son in the lost hours of the night, and I wonder if perhaps he was remembering Ben at that age, sleepless mornings with him, conversations they had had over the years. Memories. Regrets. Lost dreams. But I softly shut the door, and finally there was sleep.

Tuesday. Dad’s birthday was on the 17^th, and he and mom celebrated by driving to the airport to pick up family who were flying in for the funeral. There were no presents. People brought food, until food had filled up the fridge and the freezer. Eating was a mechanical action; no one felt hungry.

Wednesday. The Viewing. During an interview, Elizabeth Kubler-Ross explained that our Western world has a dishonest and unhealthy view of death. “They put shoes on the dead that are comfortable to wear, and silk pillows, and put rouge on the cheeks, so they look like they’re only asleep,” she says. But the Mexicans, she says, “They go and visit the graves. They bring food, they talk to them, they have a feast. …In the old days… they had what you call a wake. It was in the house, in the best living room. …[We] were able to say goodbye. …[We] were allowed to touch [the dead body].”

And there was Ben, in a casket, wearing a dark suit and looking nothing like he did in real life. His skin was pale, covered in pasty makeup, and his longer blond hair was parted and combed to the side—not the crazy, sticking up hair I had been used to seeing. I speculated on the purple bruises on his hands. Were they from gripping the steering wheel? Caused by the impact of a van going 55 miles an hour into his side? Did he know what was happening, did he feel terror as he realized that he would be hit? Did he feel pain? Numb. That is the best way to describe how I felt. More and more people walking by and hugging me, until I didn’t want to have to smile at anyone anymore. I began to feel like I was going crazy; people would hug me and give and me their condolences and I would giggle, realizing that my response was inappropriate, but unable to stop. Someone, a relative, took Logan into another room so that I wouldn’t have to chase him around. Finally, during a quiet moment, I touched Ben’s dead body. His arm. I did it very slowly, hoping that nobody was watching, mostly out of a morbid curiosity, to know what death felt like. Cold, stiff, unliving. I wish I would have talked to him, out loud even, and said goodbye. Perhaps one of these days I will be like the Mexicans, and I will feast with him over the grassy mound that separates his body from the living.

Thursday. Funeral. The family got to see his body one more time, say goodbye one more time. Dad carefully removed Ben’s jewelry, the wooden necklace, which he gave to me, and the bracelet, which he gave to Rene. Then they closed the casket and we all filed into the chapel, which was filled with Ben’s family and his friends, many of whom we had never met before. They told us stories about how they had met him, and the small acts of service he had performed, stories that made us feel happy and sad all at the same time, because maybe we hadn’t realized just how good of a person he really was. We remembered and regretted and realized.

Bishop Freestone spoke, and told the story about Ben agreeing to remove the granary in exchange for his prom tux rental, several years before the accident. He said, “Ben, we are happy to report to you that your debt is paid.” We cried and we laughed, we sang and we prayed. We prayed out loud for peace and comfort, and we prayed in the silence of our thoughts that there was a God, and that there was a heaven, and that there was a purpose, and that if we did everything just right, we prayed, maybe, just maybe, we would see Ben again.

After the funeral, we drove to the cemetery—the one that is a three-minute walk from my parents’ home. We parked and walked over to the hole in the ground, easy to find because of the large mound of dirt next to it. The coffin was placed inside of a metal box, and the man in charge warned us not to touch the lid, as it was very sticky. Uncle Randy, of course, had to touch it, and after ripping his skin, confirmed that it was, indeed, quite sticky. There was a nervous laughter, a look around to make sure that it was ok to smile again. To laugh again: relief.

The night before Ben died, Joe and I walked outside of our apartment to avoid hearing Logan cry himself to sleep. I remember looking up at the stars and wondering at the vast universe, realizing that there was so much that I didn’t understand. I had wanted to call home that night, but knew that Mom and Dad would be at the fair, and I didn’t have anything to talk about with Ben. Another regret: I didn't call.

We were only 15 months in age apart--meaning we were at times best friends, and sometimes each other’s biggest competitors. When we moved to Pennsylvania, our two zebra finches died. We buried them in a McDonald's Happy Meal box and made a parade and banged on some sort of homemade drums as we marched around the house and mourned for those birds. Another time, we got tired of waiting for the chickens to mature enough to lay eggs, so we snuck some eggs out of the fridge early one morning, and then surprised Mom and Dad by “finding” the large white eggs a few hours later. Another regret: we grew apart as we grew older.

Joe and I spent the summer in between undergrad and law school in Pennsylvania, and Ben wanted to take baby Logan with him everywhere . . . to the mall, to his friends' homes, on walks. He bought Logan a few outfits, which I still have and am saving to pass down to the next person in the family with a boy. And among the regrets I begin to find happy thoughts like this.

Acceptance comes so very gradually, until one day you realize that even though your life will never be the same, a new normal has taken its place—a life in which this is what happened and you don't know any different.

You start measuring time, measuring absence first in days, then weeks, and eventually years. Your memories turn into pictures and stories that you share when you celebrate the dead’s birthday with steak and potatoes, an ice cream cake from Dairy Queen. When strangers, or even friends, ask about family, you have to decide in that moment how much you are going to reveal; always there is the desire to recognize that defining piece of your life, but you often abstain from that impulse, knowing that it will cause a momentary shock, an uncomfortable silence, apologetic words. Sometimes you give in to the impulse, and sometimes you gain an unexpected bond when you find a friend who knows about grief and loss. And I am learning that there is a peace in talking about death; after all, dying is a normal part of living, and try as we might to avoid it, almost all of us have a story to tell about death, and the dead.

But I never stop wondering what if . . . what if I had been able to talk to Ben that night? What if he was still alive? Would he have kids? Where would he be living? What would he be doing? Would we be better friends? Ironically, many of my last memories with him have to do with this theme of death.

I remember just months before, when Misty, the dog, was hit by a car a mile from home. I can see Rene running, barefoot and sobbing, as she hugs the dog on the side of the road, and then I see Ben driving up in his white truck. He picks up the dog and takes Rene home. I remember that summer, when he asked Joe and me to stop walking on the side of the busy road with Logan in a stroller because he feared that a speeding car would hit us. “I don’t want you to die,” he had said. And after ten years of pondering these words, I have to believe that if he cared about our safety, then despite our deepest differences, he cared about me, just as I cared about him.

I remember him as the protective younger brother, who dared to tell me not to date boys he thought would not respect me, even when some of those boys were his best friends. When I pointed that out, he said, “Yeah, so I know what I’m talking about. They are ok for friends, not ok for boyfriends.” And again, I think: he cared.

I remember Ben. I remember him cleaning cars and riding on tractors and dancing in the kitchen to country music. I remember crying when it was his turn to drive because the rule was that the driver got to choose the music, and I hated country music. I remember Ben, taller than I, and thin but sturdy, strong and tan from working hard outside. I remember his spiky blond hair, his pointy elf ears, his high cheekbones and large nose, his perfectly shaped eyebrows. I remember Ben, who loved to have fun and who was always ready to be spontaneous. I remember the last time that I saw him, covers pulled up to his chin in bed, with Logan sitting by his head. We woke him up early that morning to say goodbye as we were leaving to return to Utah.

I remember that after the funeral, Dad said, “I found some illegal fireworks in Ben’s stuff. I think he’d like it if we went across the road and set them off.” So we did. We lit those things up and we celebrated Ben’s life.

last day of july update

2015-07-31T18:11:00.000-04:00

Someone somewhere has said, "The days are long but the years are short." This is especially true during the hot summers in Texas... which is why for the last 6 years we have gone to Pennsylvania for weeks at a time. (Well, that and to see grandparents and teach kids how to work on a farm.)

We got home at 2 am last Friday after deciding last minute to skip our planned visit to the St. Louis Arch. We were ready to leave Mark Twain country around 3:00 pm and someone (me) offhandedly mentioned that we were only 9 hours away from home and wouldn't it be nice to sleep in our own beds? It was kind of crazy (and impulsive--which I'm not), but we made it, and it is wonderful to be home. (Remind me--when does it cool down?)

Auggie was not a great sleeper in PA, which means I was not a great sleeper, which means that I was tired, and therefore cranky. Happily, we have gotten back into a flexible routine and he is sleeping much better. (Thank you, son!) Actually, he has been a much happier baby this past week, which means I have been a happier mom. His fun personality is starting to emerge, and we are all completely smitten. He has recently discovered his hands, started batting at toys, and he even enjoys tummy time now.

For the past 4 months we have enjoyed having a large field behind our home. It felt like we had a little bit of country and privacy in the city. Sadly, I think it's about to change. Yesterday some big, bad tractors showed up and they've been creating dirt mountains and what appears to be future roads. We will miss having these pretty sunflower neighbors.

I also wanted to note that after 4 months of living in our house we finally hired someone to install ceiling fans. I resisted at first because I felt lame that we couldn't do it ourselves, but I'm so glad I caved in! It took the man about 3 hours to put 4 fans in, and he will come back on Saturday to finish the last few. Why didn't I call him sooner?!

6th annual summer road trip

2015-07-02T14:43:00.001-04:00

I am blogging on my phone, in the car, somewhere in the middle of beautiful Pennsylvania. Technology is amazing!

Auggie had an early 2 month appointment at 7 weeks since we were going to be gone all summer. A week ago he weighed in at 12 lbs 4 oz and he is 24 inches long. Big boy!

He has done ok on the road, although yesterday we went to Gettysburg and had to cut our 2 hr audio tour short because he just cried and cried. We will have to go back again when the kids are all a little older.

Anyway, I'm jumping ahead. We dropped Joe off in Washington D.C. for a conference, picked up my dad (who drove down to meet us), and then drove to Fenwick Island, DE, where we stayed at my aunt's beach house.

Our first day there we went to Assateague Island, where there are lots of wild horses. They didn't seem too wild, but it was fun seeing them on the beach. The kids read Misty of Chincoteague as preparation.

Everyone but Auggie had fun on the beach.

Grant got lots of sand in his shorts and my aunt taught us how to do a "sand evacuation."

Logan got pretty good at the boogy board. Those waves were quite strong and even I got knocked down more than once.

Logan. I found it on my phone just now. (I was reading up on puberty and boys and was relieved to learn that muscle obsession is normal for adolescent boys. I'm not ready for teenagers!!!)

He really is a happy boy most of the time.

The kids loved kayaking and were able to go out on the water every day that we were there.

Grant's arms weren't quite long enough.

Madi and Logan got pretty good at kayaking and even went out to the bay a few times.

We went to the local beach our second day (pics mixed in above), and on the third day packed up to meet Joe in Gettysburg. Everyone told us it was a bunch of fields and not very exciting to drive through, so we tried to prep the kids as much as possible by learning about the battle of Gettysburg as we drove across the country. I highly recommend the book, What Was the Battle of Gettysburg? We bought a self-guided audio tour, which would have been fantastic if Auggie hadn't been screaming. Our trip coincided with the 152 anniversary of the battle, which was neat.

Little Round Top

Pickett's Charge

We ate a late dinner at a random pizza place; good pizza, nasty bathrooms.

We stayed the night in Harrisburg, PA, and then visited Hershey, PA this morning. I wish we had studied up on the history of the man and the town before we went. We took the free tour, which was lame, but at least we got miniature kit kats at the end. There is a lot to do right there if you want to spend money, but as a family of seven, that means a good chunk of money and the kids kept saying they wanted to go to Grandma and Grandpa's, so we skipped out of Hershey after an hour of being there. Maybe next time.....

Now we are on our way to the farm, where the high today is 72 degrees. The kids are excited to ride four wheelers, gather eggs, pick wild berries, and play with the dog and cat. Grandpa even told Grant that he could be as loud and crazy as he wanted (outside). Yay summer!!

monday monday, summer monday

2015-06-22T11:38:00.001-04:00

First of all, I put August to bed at 10 pm last night and he didn't wake up to eat until 4:30 am this morning. That's 6 1/2 hours, people, and let me tell you: amazing. I can't remember the last time I got that much uninterrupted sleep! I know it might not happen again tonight, but it gives me hope that someday soon I will once again know what it feels like to not be totally and completely exhausted all day.

I didn't get a picture of Joe with all the kids, unfortunately, but we had a good Father's Day. I took the kids shopping to pick out cards and gifts on the first day of summer vacation. Usually I have the kids make cards (cheaper and more meaningful), but it turns out that The Dollar Store has some really cute cards, and it is actually pretty meaningful to let them pick out their own cards because they manage to find cards that fit their personality--serious or funny or with a dog on it! They each wrote their own messages to Dad, and he said the cards were his favorite of the gift-giving part of Father's Day. It is also interesting to see what the kids pick out for their dad. Logan got him a picture frame, Madi a #1 Dad mug, Grant a pad of paper and pens, and Ammon got him water balloons and silly string. The funniest part was when Joe was about to open Ammon's present and Ammon leaned over excitedly and said, "You're really going to like it!" I was almost crying with laughter and love. I got Joe a watch (that he picked out and is wearing so it's not in the picture). We are so grateful for our wonderful dad and granddads!

I try to keep things real, and I have not made it a secret that I was kind of dreading summer. I made a CHOICE that we were going to have a great summer, and I have a new testimony that my ATTITUDE really makes a difference--good or bad.

Just because everyone is home does not mean my house has to be in a state of constant disaster. In fact, having everyone home means I have a lot of helpers. The amazing thing is that they have, for the most part, been very happy to help. The kids have been doing most of the cooking (with my help) and cleaning up after meals. We have had some interesting meals! For instance, today Madison decided to make chocolate milk whole-wheat waffles. They actually didn't taste any different than regular waffles, so it was a waste of perfectly good chocolate milk, but not a waste because now we know! Big kids really are so much fun!

I continue to become more and more like my parents every year (which is ok; I can think of worse people to be like 😉). I put up a bulletin and white board right by our garage door entrance (they have one by their front door), mainly so that I can write down what the kids need to do each day before they can turn on the tv (also what my parents used the white board for). The kids find satisfaction in rubbing out their responsibilities when they are done.

The house doesn't have to be a disaster, but it doesn't have to be spotless, either. That is another decision I have to make (every day). Creating and playing can be messy!

My sister Rene taught the kids how to make wands when she visited in March. Grant and Ammon's wand broke, so Logan decided to make them new ones. He took 90 cents to Walmart and searched the craft aisles for wand bases. I really didn't think he could do it, but he has been making wands all weekend, and they are pretty awesome!

His wand-making station

A few of his creations. They are getting fancier and fancier!

Some friends came over last week and were so impressed by the wands that he has decided to become an entrepreneur and sell them. He has had some great and encouraging feedback (thanks Facebook!), now we just need to figure out how to make a webpage so he can actually sell them. Maybe a blog to begin? I'm not sure.

Speaking of wands--Grant finished Harry Potter 1 this morning. He was so excited and did this crazy happy dance while he pulled out the Harry Potter movie and the next book. He started reading it a few weeks ago and at first wanted to take turns reading it with me or with Logan and Madi, but once he got into it he figured out it was faster to read it by himself on his own time. I am so proud of him!

A few years ago I bought this side table for $5 from a garage sale site. I have been intending to paint it for years but have never had the motivation to do so. When Logan was looking at the craft aisles in Walmart I noticed a small jar of gray chalk paint. I bought it, and last Saturday Madison and I spent an hour painting it. It looks good--much better than before--and Madison loved painting so much that she decided she wants to paint stuff (first up is a fun bright color for that picture frame). When she realized Logan just might make some money with his wands, she decided she wanted to figure out something she could do to make money. So be on the lookout for Madi's creations in the near future!

surviving summer

2015-06-15T16:31:00.001-04:00

So far so good in the summer department. Here's what's been going on:

Cousin Maggie came to visit!

Tummy-time!

Pool with friends. Every single day.

Pizza night!

Madison's hair-doing skills are getting pretty good. I am very happy to let her practice on my hair.

The kids and I read Because of Winn Dixie together and decided to have a book/movie party with friends. We made the food that they ate in the book. Logan made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Madi made egg salad sandwiches, and Grant made punch. I tend to get stressed out about things easily, but I put the kids in charge and we kept things very simple, so it really wasn't stressful, but it was a lot of fun and we will definitely be doing more book/movie parties this summer. Book suggestions welcome!

They got the living room ready.

Madison made signs to hang on the front door.

Grant swept the kitchen without being asked.

Madi's signs.

The party! I think I am missing a few kids in the picture. We had a great turn out!

I should have taken a picture of the stairs. Logan taped them off early this morning to prevent kids from going upstairs (where all the toys are). It worked!