Why Say No When You Can Say Yes?

Is It Really Thursday?

2012-02-09T11:11:00.000-07:00

Katelyn and I are laying low.
Liv is at school for forty-five more minutes, the laundry is folded and waiting for the next load, and Katelyn is entertaining herself on the rocking chair while examining the penny and chatting a little with Mom.
Katelyn really loves little things she can hold in her hand and examine. Luckily, she has stopped putting them in her mouth, so we enjoy watching her analyze her little science projects when she's right next to us. Her VERY favorite little companion? Squeenkies. The older two wanted them for Christmas sooooo baaaaad, which I really wondered if they would really like them once they had them, but what is gift giving if not giving what someone reallllllly wants? They enjoyed them for the day, Kate has enjoyed them every day since. So really, I guess I got the bang for my buck.
You're welcome, Katelyn.

Tuesday was Mariah's 18th birthday. It really sort of became a birthday weekend, and I think she had a good time -- I hope so! Birthdays are important to me, I think it's awesome to celebrate someone and their importance in your life. She's getting older! And the good news is, I think she's slowly becoming okay with that. Seeing a future. Accepting that she deserves to have good things in that future. Trying to really buckle down and prepare herself. All good things. She got a lot of love from the many people that love her, and that made her feel so good. Phone calls, activities, and even flowers from a very nice boy hoping to get asked to preference. We love Mariah. We are glad she is a part of our family life.

Last night Olivia said "Move your tush, Honey!" to K.J. and Mariah as they got out of the car. Apparently they weren't going fast enough for her. Honestly. Move your tush, honey? Where does she get these things? It's always said in the most cheerful and loving way, too. I would love to get credit for her many moments of wonderfulness, but the credit is all her own. She must be making this up as she goes.

In other news, the Double B and I must somehow find a way to split ourselves and be in two places at once. Actually, for the rest of the month, we each need to be in two different places separately and in two different places together, all at the same time. It's a little confusing. I have decided to look at it this way: we can not actually be in two separate places at once. Only one place at a time. Granted, the Double B does watch a lot of Star Trek on Netflix, so maybe he'll be able to figure something out. But for now, it's just one place at a time. And much as I'd like to split myself so conveniently, I can't. So I'm not going to worry about it. I'm just going to do the very best I can and it will have to be enough for all parties. Including the State of Utah.
Look at me slowly learning to relax in my old age.

The End.

And... Scene.

2012-02-06T12:16:00.002-07:00

Liv - What are you doing?

Mom - Writing on my blog.

Liv - So you can buy more Valentine's stuff?

Umm... no. No Valentine's purchases being made here. We finally put up our one Day of Love decoration and Olivia was SO disgusted with me. She was kind about it, but she was disgusted. And I guess I don't blame her. I just don't have more stuff for this particular holiday. And I'm not against it! I think Valentine's Day is a wonderful opportunity to tell the people you love that you love them. But apparently I take the minimalist approach. Oh, well. I gotta be me.
One Valentine's Day my parents gave me a Boxcar Children book. AND I LOVED IT. I felt so special. I must have read that book one million times. I was always so amazed at the resourcefulness of those children, livin' it up in the boxcar.
I don't think I could make it in a boxcar.
I like to give my kids Valentine's. It's fun.

Anyhow.

Katelyn has a cold. Red nose. Then she had a hard night so the Double B put her in bed with us -- and then this morning she was mad about who knows what, so she stood up and swan dived off the bed. She has a nice red line across her forehead, a bruise, and a split lip. Basically, it looks like she's been in the ring. Baby Heavy-Weight Champion.
I feel bad for the little flibber-de-diggit. I would also like her to re-assess her temper-driven behaviors.

I used to have a really bad temper as a kid. Did you know that? I wouldn't say I have a bad temper now -- I've worked my whole life on growing up, so that fire is being put out slowly but surely. But sometimes I do still get annoyed. I certainly have my Super Special Crazy Mother Moments. For instance: "Put those chips back in the kitchen! I worked hard to get this room clean!!!" I mean, I dusted. Don't they know I DUSTED? Oh, how the children must cherish these special times with Mom!

K.J. is doing great. He's almost 100% and even got to go back to school today. We really have a lot of thankfulness that he was so watched over. He is the sweetest boy and has handled all this like a champ. But he is definitely ready to re-enter society.
Amusingly, my own body has been a little mad about that glorious bout of stress. I've been stomach flu-like ever since, and it. has. been. awesome. I gave myself a lecture today. It went like this: "Self! It is time to calm down! Your son is okay! He is okay! You may now tell the factory that revenge has been taken and you will try not to do that again! 10-4 Good Buddy!"
I think I listened to myself.

In closing, let me just say that this blog is not going to change the world. But it's nice to be able to talk about your children, holidays observed, the gifts you received as a child and the stomach flu with someone who cares.
Carry on.

The Case of the Missing Appendix

2012-02-02T22:07:00.006-07:00

K.J. has led us all on an adventure.
You may be thinking to yourself "Self, this boy looks different for some reason!"
Let me assure you, he is the same boy. He's just Appendix-Free.

That's right, folks. K.J. had an emergency appendectomy! Not everybody gets to say that.

It was not so great.

But he was so brave and we feel so blessed that Heavenly Father was watching out for our family and our son.

In K.J.'s own words:
"I was yelling so much, and crying a little. So we went to the -- what's that doctor's name again? -- to the Instacare. And they had to give me a test, then we went to the hospital. And I had to have a water test, and then a -- hm -- a cat-scan. At the emergency room. And then they gave me a surgery. And I had to go to the children's hospital and stay for a night and a day, and now I'm laying in my Mom's bed. And that's how I'd tell it."

We're looking on the bright side: there are perks to emergency surgery, like -- no school for the rest of the week! Waited on hand and foot! Ramen at will! Cards and treats and phone calls! Visitors! A little sister completely devoted to his every whim and anticipated desire "here's a cookie! here's a picture! here's your treat! here's my left arm -- take what you need!" and a big sister willing to give him all the sympathy he needs, and a baby sister to smile at him because she noticed he was gone and that didn't seem right! I think he feels loved. I know I love him.

Here is the epic story:
On Tuesday afternoon K.J. called me to ask me to pick him up from school -- he had a tummy ache. When I picked him up I could tell he didn't feel well, he was slumped in his chair and then just laid on the couch. But I figured it was a stomach flu and helped him get settled with a movie in that great place of recovery, Mom's bed. Mariah had a therapy session, so I took her over. The Double B called to tell me K.J. had thrown up but felt a lot better and asked me to stop and get some Gatorade. I dropped Mariah off at work and came home, and Little Buddy seemed okay. It seemed alright for me to head to Young Women's with him in Daddy's watchful care. Luckily, young women's was just across the street last night (very unusual), and I headed over and spent the next hour laughing and talking with the Laurel's when there was a knock on the door. Livi had walked clear across the street in the dark to come and get me -- K.J. was really sick and throwing up and they needed my help! We walked back across the street and I expected him to be sick throwing up, but when I came into the door, I could hear him screaming in agony down the hall. He was doubled over, moaning and wailing and obviously in extreme, unusual pain. The Double B let me know he'd been like this about half an hour, they'd tried medicine and he'd thrown it up twice, he'd been given a blessing, and we needed to get him to the hospital. I will freely admit, I do not do well when my children are suffering. And K.J. was obviously in extreme, uncontrollable pain. I was having a hard time handling it. You other parents understand. Every time he'd scream, I'd have a little flip-out. But the Double B needed to take the girls to Grandma's and K.J. couldn't stand for me to leave him, so that meant I had to get it together to get him to the insta-care. He couldn't stand to sit up, so he laid in the backseat while we drove. He could barely stand on his feet to get weighed, he was doubled over and the pain was so great he started to throw up again, but by that time there was nothing left and it was all violent dry heaves. He couldn't walk. Daddy arrived. After they examined him and the tests came back with a high white blood cell count and with his extreme and sudden symptoms, they told us they strongly suspected it was appendicitis and the emergency room and the surgeon on call were waiting for us.
K.J. was pretty frightened, but by the time we made it to St. George he was feeling a lot better. It only hurt him to be jarred or to walk. But whereas at the Insta-care he didn't have a fever, now his temperature was at 100.2 and it was climbing every time they checked.
They monitored him for awhile and ran a few more tests, and then it was time for the CT Scan. This was the worst part of the experience for me. Daddy had to wait in our room and I could only go as far as the hallway outside of the scanning room. K.J. was already extremely nervous because he had heard the doctors mention surgery, but he was very afraid when he saw the big machine, and had no idea what it would be doing to him. Those few minutes after they closed the doors were some of the very worst moments of my whole life. Hearing the robotic voice and whir of the machine and then hearing my little son panicking and crying out in fear while I was on the other side of steel doors was almost more then I could take. I would go through that pain and fear a million times if I could stop him from having to do it even once. I squeezed my arms, trying to keep it together. I begged Heavenly Father to send the Holy Ghost to comfort and strengthen K.J. and calm his fear. I asked Him to help me, too, because I wasn't doing too well. I still felt little relief, still filled with fear -- I told Heavenly Father that I knew His arms were extended to me but I was standing in my own way of relief, to please send me the grace I needed to access that peace and be able to greet my little boy with a smile and confidence. After that, things started to calm down, I could hear the male nurse talking to K.J. to calm him down and explaining what was happening. He told him, "Just twenty more seconds, buddy, that's not very long" and I put my hand on the door and counted slowly (trying to give him some wiggling room here) to twenty. For the record: it was forty seconds. But soon I could hear the machine shutting down and a minute later the doors opened, and there was my baby boy, looking for me and quivering on his bed. Kaje still tears up when he talks about the scary cat-scan machine that told him to "hold your breath." He really hated it. But Mom was there to greet him with a smile and he was happy to see me and be done with that. There was a small delay because the St. George machine reader was down and when they sent it to Provo their machine was down, too, so they had to call the head radiologist and ask him to read them. When the e.r. doctor came in, he told us the appendix was definately enlarged and it looked like the walls were hardening. It was appendicitis. He didn't even get to finish telling us the surgeon was there and the anesthesiologist was on his way and they would be right in to prep him for surgery before poor K.J. started sobbing his little eyes out. He was so scared, he kept begging "It doesn't even hurt anymore! I want to go home! I just want to go home! It doesn't even hurt anymore!" It broke my heart, but after I was able to get him on my lap and soothe him he was able to calm down and listen to Mommy and Daddy and then the surgeon. The Holy Ghost definately came through for us -- by the time they came to prep him, he could get into the bed calmly. By the time we got upstairs to surgery, he was at peace and almost asleep. The very kind anesthesiologist gave him the anti-anxiety medication and some more pain relief and he went right to sleep by himself. One of the Double B's good friends was the surgical nurse on call that night, so we were relieved to know he was in there. The anesthesiologist assured us they would take very good care of our son, and off he went around the corner. As the aide led us to the waiting room, where we basically had the whole floor to ourselves, the tears could finally feel my eyes and I could finally get the strong hug and "it will be okay" from my own personal Snuggie. We both felt such relief, knowing our son was getting the help he so desperately needed. The clock said 12:49 a.m.
After only about forty minutes, the anesthesiologist came out and told us everything went perfectly and K.J. was doing well, and then the surgeon came out. Everything went very well, but there was a lot of puss and infection surrounding the appendix, much more then usual, making him think there was a perforation somewhere in it. It would have burst by morning. They cleaned him out very well, but because of the infection that had leaked out, he would have to stay in the hospital until all the strong antibiotic treatments had been given -- he was hoping K.J. could go home Wednesday night, depending on how everything went.
Soon we were able to go to recovery, and he came out of the the anesthesia easily and well. They transported him in the ambulance to the children's hospital. I was riding in the back with him and thought how strange it was there was no one on the roads, but then the nice ambulance man told me it was 2:30 in the morning! Okay. Well then. That's the only kind of ride in an ambulance you ever want to take, when the emergency is already over with. Seriously.
They got K.J. settled and very comfortable at the children's hospital. He fell right to sleep. The Double B headed home to our girls and I settled in the extra bed for the night. It was about 3:15 in the morning. K.J. did so well -- he would startle awake sometimes, but I would sit up and talk to him and he'd remember and calm back down into sleep. The nurse was so amazed at his pain tolerance -- they should have been giving him morphine, but he didn't need anything until about five o'clock when he woke up with some pain. They gave him a small dose and he informed me it was just like we said: he fell asleep, and when he woke up he was at the children's hospital and his appendix was gone!
He has compared every pain since his surgery to the pain of his appendix, and nothing measures up (thank heavens). He has been such a trooper. After a long, long day at the hospital, playing the wii, watching t.v., coloring, many trips to the bathroom and many visits with the nurse, they gave him his last treatment with antibiotics. His stats had been very good all day and the surgeon gave him the all clear to go home. He was so happy, and we were so happy, to get our little boy home again.
These are the experiences that remind you again what is really important. Our children mean everything to us. We have our family, and nothing else can really matter so very much.
It was a very, very long 24 hours.
We are so, so thankful to a Father in Heaven who is blessing and protecting us even when we don't know that He is. We are so thankful for modern medicine and that we got to the hospital in time -- before K.J.'s appendix could burst. He was already starting to feel better, which gave the doctors even more urgency. We are so thankful for the medical staff that helped us so kindly and carefully. We are so thankful. We can't even tell you.
And now K.J. is sleeping peacefully in Mom and Dad's room for one more night. And all is right in our corner of the world.

Out Of Many Voices, One.

2012-01-30T15:33:00.000-07:00

'I've built walls, A fortress deep and mighty
That none may penetrate
I have no need of friendship
friendship causes pain
It's laughter and loving I disdain
I am a rock,
I am an island
... I won't disturb the slumber of the feelings that have died
I am a rock,
I am an island
I am shielded in my armour
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb,
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island
And a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries.'

-Paul Simon

Have you ever heard the logic that "It's my life, so it can't hurt you?" That somehow, whatever we do only affects us and it's ridiculous to suggest it could hurt anyone else? I'm sure you all have. I don't think many of us reach adulthood without experiencing it. For myself, that logic and it's deception and destruction first became very clear in my life when I was twelve years old. Someone I loved very much was making dangerous choices, and it caused me such terrible pain because I loved them and looked up to them. But when I expressed those feelings, I was told I was wrong -- that I couldn't be feeling real pain because it was their life and it had nothing to do with me. At that moment, everything changed. And I realized forever that My Life is not my own. That everything I do affects everything around me. Everything I touch is influenced by my choices. And everyone I love holds rights to my love and actions that I am beholden to protect.

Are any of us rocks?
Are ANY of us islands?

Today I am comforted by the words of John Donne:

No man is an island entire of itself;
every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were,
as well as a manor of thy friends or of thine
own were; any man's death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know for whom
the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

So here is my heart:
any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind. I am involved in mankind. Nothing can change that. Sometimes that twelve year old still comes to me, wounded and confused. But I remind her of her own responsibilities, just as I remind and bandage myself now, and commit once again that now and forever I am responsible not only to myself, not only to God, but to others. Because whether I want it or not; whether I acknowledge it or not; they are still there. Reaching out for me as I am reaching for them. And I will give them the respect they deserve. I will give myself the respect I deserve.

It doesn't matter how many names I am called. It doesn't matter how sharp the lance is, how aggressive the blows, how repetitive the attack. I know who I am. I know where my allegiance lies. And no one can change that. No lies can change that. And I can not, I will not forsake that knowledge. I owe too much to too many other people.
I have shared these words by William Ernest Henley before, but they bear repeating. And this time, I share them with myself:

'It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.'

The Spew

2012-01-26T09:58:00.002-07:00

I couldn't be more proud: Katelyn just worked her way into the bathroom and was NOT splashing in the toilet. This time she was just hiding behind the shower curtain! The toilet lid was even open, beckoning to her. This is progress, people! I call this progress! I don't know what it is about the royal throne, but Kate is drawn to it like a cute little fly to honey. She splashes around and then rubs the toilet water all over in her hair. I. Don't. Know. Why. But today -- yes, today -- she chose something else. The shower curtain.
A big day for all of us, really.

This morning I looked around my disastrous kitchen and thought "siiiiiggggghhhhhh." Didn't I do this yesterday? I don't know how my house has the power to become so frightening. I think it comes down to two things: 1) My children are not exactly neat-freaks, and 2) I am really a rather horrible housekeeper. For one glorious moment I thought about having a weekly cleaning service. Of course, I'd have to get an outside job to pay for my own personal Snow White, and then I'd have to pay for child care. Between the two, I'm pretty sure I'd be working to pay for a clean house and child care. But still -- for one second I thought about it. And then I pulled open the coat closet and started hanging coats that for some reason can never quite get on the hanger.
For your information, the kitchen still sits there making faces at me. I'm going to have to Fly Lady the kitchen today. Fifteen minutes on, fifteen minutes off. Of course, when you're aggressive like the Fly Lady would be proud of, you're almost done with the room in fifteen minutes, so it seems silly to stop. I think that is part of her plan.
She is devious, that Fly Lady.
I should become her devoted follower.

We had the most interesting conversation at our house last night. It was, in essence, about Self Worth. About how others can injure our self worth or almost destroy it, and how we can and need to get it back. About if you can somehow deserve bad things happening to you, or if you're predestined to experience horrible things or if they just happen. And then, of course, that all-powerful subject of Agency. Why we have it, why it's allowed to injure other people, why God doesn't always stop horrible things from happening.
So interesting. And things that maybe there is never a clear-cut answer to, except this one all-encompassing statement that requires FAITH: that through the Atonement, we can overcome all things.
Let's face it: I'm 28 years old. Of course I've experienced some hard things, some yucky things, some things I have hated, and I am always wrestling with a very strong opponent -- myself. But I have not experienced even an inkling of the suffering and the ugliness that is in this world and that is sometimes inflicted on us through no doing of our own. But I am sure about this: we aren't sent here with the instruction to deal with it by ourselves.
Here is what I know: A feeling of self worth is absolutely critical to happiness and purpose.
That feeling of self worth is available to everyone, even though we all have to work through our own issues to receive it and maintain it.
Here is something else I'm figuring out in my own short life through personal feelings, experience, and observation: In all these questions of life, there is one buoyant answer to it all -- we have a Father in Heaven that loves us with a perfect love. Becoming a Mom helped me understand and accept that love a little better. He gave us a friend and Savior that is Mighty to Save -- and through Him and his help there is happiness and joy in the face of everything else.
And He will help us find that Self Worth that is so critical to making choices for happiness.
That's really the only answer available to those questions, because it really is the only answer.
At the end of the conversation -- it was a very long conversation -- I thought of one of my favorite things: that Faith has a sister. And her name is Hope.
And I just really, really love Hope.

Well. I never know what I'm going to write here, let me tell ya. I often finish my thought and think "well, I just didn't know I was going to discuss that here today." But I have decided to just share what is rolling around in here, because after all, sharing is caring.

In conclusion, let me share something not thought provoking at all, just fun: yesterday the Double B and K.J. went ice fishing. It was a trip they have both looked forward to, and they had a marvelous time, even though K.J. didn't have quite as much fun since Grandpa couldn't come this time. Plus, he's afraid of the fish. So as soon as one bites, he runs screaming from the hole.
Olivia woke up and in a most melancholy fashion whispered "K.J. got to go fishing with Daddy." So what did this equal? GIRLS DAY!!! Of course. We went to all her favorite stores, because that girl will always choose shopping for her hobby of choice, and had lunch with Grandma. I carried a sleeping 30 pound Katelyn around Costco while pushing our filling cart, because that girl just would not wake up. And then I forgot about my visiting teachers coming to visit! So I missed that, dangit. When we got home, we were all exhausted. We thought K.J. had scouts, so the two of us drove around for some time only to realize he did not have scouts. Then, in honor of my faithful visiting teachers, I surprise attacked two of my own ladies, which is the only way to do it and have success for some. They looked at me like I was a weirdo. Again. And I am, so it's okay. BUT I WILL BE 100%, DANGIT!
At the end of this long day, guess who actually made dinner. A foreign word for some. Me. That's right. Me. Miracles have not ceased.
I win the prize.
The self-appointed prize.
And there you have a full accounting of the day.
Love,
Marie.

Fog

2012-01-24T10:11:00.001-07:00

Olivia's new word: Thing-a-ma-jigger. I don't know how it came into her vocabulary, but I'm certainly glad.
Try using in a sentence today.

Battle Katelyn continues, and some days I do believe she is winning. But the troops are not ready to give up. I'm glad I get to be here with her to guide her through these perilous times. It's like rehab here, people -- or at least like I imagine toddler rehab to be. She is so cute and yet so wild woman.
Dear Katelyn,
Someday you will be a grown woman, and you will read this history of our family life. Probably. Just know that I will be laughing about this at that time and love you now with all my heart, and I guarantee you that I will love you at that future date with all my heart. We third children must stick together, it is a calling few are brave enough to handle.
You really are extraordinarily wonderful. You just have more will power then I do at the moment. And that will only be an asset in your future, so really, I'm glad to know you are Iron Woman.
Love,
Mom.

Yesterday Liv and Kate had their wellness checks with the doctor -- Olivia her five year check, Katelyn her 18 month check. They both had shots and took them like little champions. Olivia is so brave. She knew it was coming, she faced it head on, and not one single tear. I admire that quality in her so much! And fully expect her to go sky-diving or something with her little sister one day. They are both healthy and, this is so obvious, basically brilliant. We feel so blessed, because as we know, health is everything. Olivia had her first eye check, and being a rather shy little duckling, it was a real test of character to answer to each pointed object. In other good news, Katelyn will not be bow-legged forever, which I know everyone who has seen her walk will be glad to know. It is the cutest little cowgirl walk ever, but being part Sperry, I was a little worried this would turn into several massive surgeries in the teen years, because I'm just special like that. Her bones are straight, and when she has a little less girth, things should straighten out. I love girth.

For the record, I simply adore fat babies. They are what sunshine is to daisies, what milk is to the cocoa bean, what Ringo is to Paul, John, and George. I just want to squish them and hug them and kiss their little chubby cheeks. How convenient for me that I have one in my own house, who has to endure more then her fair share of squishes, hugs, and kisses on the cheeks.

Yesterday Kate said Mariah's name for the first time. "MY-AH!" Since the two of them are basically soul mates, you can imagine the joy of this moment. And also, the noise level. Screams of excitement. Hysterical screams of laughter. It was cute. And yet so noisy. Let us call it: cute and noisy.
Mariah is doing great. The Double B took her out driving for an hour yesterday and she is bound and determined that somehow forty hours will fly by into a licence tomorrow. Either way, it will come as soon as she has forty hours in, and we're all excited for her. We're proud of her and the person she is becoming. It's fun to see someone blossoming into the woman they will be before too much more time has passed. Challenging, but fun all the same. We're thankful to be sharing this time with her.

This sounds like a family newsletter, which I guess it is. I don't really have anything strange, either thoughts or events, to share. And that so rarely happens, let's be honest.
But either way, on this incredibly beautiful morning when I got to drive my kids to school in the most glorious, beautiful fog I've ever seen -- I just want to say hello.

Hello.

A Day In The Life

2012-01-18T09:15:00.000-07:00

This morning I was loading my dishwasher (I say this to make myself feel both industrious and homemakerish -- and all before nine in the morning!) when I heard K.J. in the next room stage whisper to Olivia "Shhhh ... Don't tell Mom!" Every Mother's favorite words. At which point Olivia came running in to stand in front of me and smile. I asked "What are you supposed to tell me?" She looked confused for a minute and then answered "Oh, uh -- nothing!"
Genius plan on both of their parts. So I put down the wash cloth to journey to my bedroom, where I found K.J. taking all of the movies off the shelf and stacking them, just to find his particular favorite. Really, all I could say at that moment is "Put them all back when you're done with the threat of death."
Or something.
Motherhood is so awesome. But sometimes so -- so -- I don't know. So something.
Katelyn and I are butting heads at the moment, which could be a great contributor to the Mommy who wants to have a short temper right now. And Marie does not LIKE Mommy who has a short temper, but sometimes those two ladies battle it out.
Katee is in transition. One that we all must take. Baby going out, toddler coming in. It seems like she has grown SO MUCH lately! With this comes deep mischief, stubborn drags, thousands and thousands of climbs up and pulls down, and banshee screaming and hitting when she just can't communicate what she wants to say. This must be frustrating for her. Because I know it is frustrating for me! I also know I'm almost to my very favorite part -- toddlerhood, blissful and beautiful toddlerhood -- but in the mean time it's high adventure.
This morning K.J. and Mariah, my morning people, were breaking the sound barrier and of course, I heard Kate crying in her crib, wanting me to come and get her way before she should legally get up to reach cheerful levels. I picked her up and she laid her head on my shoulder in that deep, heavy hug we all just dream about. So I carried her into my room and laid her on the bed with me, wrapped up in one arm and holding her little hand with the other so she would know I wasn't trying to make her go back to sleep, which would be a capital offense. She squirmed for a minute, then settled in and made little noises while playing with my fingers, stretching a little, yawning. Her little eyes would close for a while and then slowly open to watch and listen. As I was looking at her tiny face, I was struck with how very beautiful and sweet she is. It was a quiet moment, and I was so thankful for it, because it was a reminder moment.
This daughter of God already shows some delightful traits -- what the Double B and I think will be a big and hilarious sense of humor and fun, a giant sense of adventure, and curiosity and daring. All wonderful, exciting things to have in our family.
So this morning as she would want something but not be able to get it because she's not big enough, get her feelings hurt because she's not big enough, and basically be Transition Kate, I tried to take the moment to give her some sympathy and some cuddles. Because it only takes a minute and she won't be Transition Kate for long, and I might just miss her.
I don't know how babies grow up.
I know, I just don't know.
You know?

Yesterday was the Double B's day off, and in a bold and romantic move, he arranged a babysitter and shocked me with a picnic up on top of one of my favorite landmarks -- Molly's Mountain. You 4-wheel-drive up there, take a jaunt up, and get to see everything for miles and miles around, and it is so beautiful and peaceful. One of my favorite things to do on earth, actually, and it was all for him and me. So delightful. It made me feel special and loved and important. Sigh of happiness. A little plane kept buzzing around to say hello, we saw an eagle way below us soar up and over us, we found our house, we saw a boat zipping around the lake, what might just be a crop circle, and we hiked then sat and ate and enjoyed each other's company. And also, he made potato salad. Honestly, could a girl ask for more?
Not very many people get to know the Double B the way I do -- he can be sort of stoic and reserved and he has a really deep voice that I think makes him seem serious, which he certainly can be -- but for me, he's my friend. Just a big heart of pure gold.
What a guy!

Salt

2012-01-13T09:58:00.001-07:00

Olivia reported to me that Katelyn had the salt. What this translates to is that Katelyn had the salt shaker and was systematically shaking it all over the kitchen floor. My feet crunched millions of tiny grains of salt as I ran to grab it from her while firmly saying her most dreaded and most familiar of all words: "NO!!!"
It took a lot of sweeping.
Sigh.
My high school drama coach was a little intense, but I will say I never heard anything in college or anywhere else that I hadn't already been taught by him. Today's salt episode reminded me of an acting theory that all people fit into four categories. The toddler category was called "I'm not okay/your not okay," because all the toddler ever hears is "no" and it makes them feel bad about themselves and their caretaker. It's certainly a useful tool when building certain character, but salt days make me worry I'm cramping Kate's style with the many "no's" in her life. But quite frankly, pouring a whole salt shaker onto the floor cramps MY style, so we are at a stand still.
Hm. Acting is fun. I'd like to do it again someday.
Today is a day where Marie talks herself into household maintenance like this: just pick up five things, and then you don't have to worry about it for five whole minutes! I love hostage negotiations with myself! I'm getting darn good at them, too.
In closing, let me say, watching Olivia share her birthday Reese's with Kate is a true joy to behold. May sharing be a part of your life today! Because let's face it, sharing is caring.
The End.

Feminist Thursday

2012-01-12T13:00:00.002-07:00

I stayed up too late last night.
All in the name of the Biggest Loser and to beat my Tetris record. Which I did -- more then 22 million points now! A fifty-five minute game played in the dark while crunched up on slouched pillows and my glasses pulled down my nose so I could see. A game so long that my arms actually fell asleep, but even that was not enough to make me stop.
I'm not proud here, people. I'm just giving you the facts.
The Double B regrets ever getting me that game for my DS (yes, it is mine and mine alone), which I told him he would -- regret is just one of those things -- but still. I only play it at night once I'm in bed. Usually while sort of watching comfort reruns, because then, of course, I don't have to give it my full attention. It helps me wind down from the day and stops my little brain from overheating. I just have this thing, where if left too long, it reactivates and tries to solve the problems of the world.
Last night it was stuck on woman as under-dog. I used to make myself absolutely insane over this (the Double B also), but not anymore. Now it's just mostly interesting and still mystifying mind play. Thankfully, God has informed me (and I've finally been able to listen), that daughters are magnificent and don't have to prove their worth and suffer only from less upper-arm strength, really. Also that sons are marvelous, too, and can't exactly help it if some of their kind are aggressively stupid and they shouldn't all be judged by that fact, just as we shouldn't all be judged by the fact that some of our kind have green skin and carry around broom sticks.
What surprises me is how so much of the "little woman" still exists on a subconsious level for people. Once upon a time, I was in a discussion where an upcoming speaking event was discussed. There were only men on the panel planned, and in true "I must love to set myself up" form, I mentioned this as an item of concern. For instance -- WHY were there only men chosen to speak when half of the audience will be made up of women? Why is so easy to forget how much a woman speaker has to offer -- which is, of course -- as much as a male speaker? Different places and thought processes, which are equally valuable to all of us. I tried to make light of it, but of course, it is a real question that I wouldn't mind having answered. (I really must love to set myself up, I've certainly done it enough times.) The men in the conversation jumped right on board and made many "Oh, ho, here she comes" type of jokes and comments, which were fine and I had it coming, but then it went over the line. A comment was made that was not only extremely passive aggressive and sexist but so very very false. The whole room stopped. Half of that may have been because I literally had to shut down at that moment to contain myself. I closed my eyes, concentrated on my breathing, and literally went inside myself to reign the lioness back in. I've always had that problem.
Luckily, my big brother was there to save the day as he has so many times in my life, and knowing how very upset I honestly was, made a joke and skillfully led the conversation back onto safer ground. This experience was just waiting for me to not go to bed early enough so it could come back and haunt me.
The day it happened I told the Double B about it, with the disclaimer "I know, I totally set myself up." He just shook his head, looked steadily at me, and advised "When that happens, you need to not get upset. You need to just feel sorry for how stupid the people who make those comments are."
Which could be why I married him.
One of the reasons, at least.
He's got experience and knows how to handle me. For the most part, of course.
I am thankful for Tetris but not so thankful that I can't see that no one in their right mind needs to reach 22 million points.

I am ... special. Let's leave it at that.

Her Highness Turns 5

2012-01-11T09:55:00.000-07:00

Today Olivia turns five years old. In fact, exactly five years ago at this moment things were going quickly and she she was almost here -- roughly 29 minutes to go. What a great day in my life. One of the happiest moments ever.
Olivia loves to tell me the story of when she was born. That I looked deeply into her eyes, and she looked deeply into mine, and we loved each other. And that I couldn't sleep all that night, I just held her in my arms and I looked deeply into her eyes and she looked deeply into mine, like we knew each other.
And that is right. Apparently I always tell it to her the same way, because that is the way it was.

Five things about Miss Olivia McBee:

1) Olivia is the most exciting person in our household. She is so creative, she can create fun. Every person in our house loves to be around her. She is someone that carries a whole lot of light and loves to share it.

2) Olivia is very dramatic, and feels things on a very romantic level. If she cries, it is pitious weeping or convulsive sobbing. If she laughs, it is a girly giggle or a HAHAHA. If she is playing pretend, it's almost real. I have seen her dance all over this house with her future Prince Charming. I have also seen her kiss the wall.

3) Olivia is shy. Which simply mystifies me, but I try to be supportive.

4) Olivia is my buddy. We spend each day together, and it is a pleasant, easy companionship. We know each other well and like each other a lot. She even has me down to the point that if she thinks something is going to make me well up she turns to me and says "Mom, are you going to start fussin'?" She says the most hilarious things, every day.

5) Olivia is patient and kind. She is loving towards her little sister and puts up with a lot of provoking, adores and hero-worships her big brother, admires and relishes in her big sister, is her Daddy's right-hand girl and enjoys having him wrapped around her little finger, and holds a magical charm over her Mother. It's a good life for this little girl, let's be honest.

We love her. So. Much.
Thanks for being born, Olivia. Thanks for coming to our house. Thanks for letting me be your Mom and letting your Dad be your Dad. You are kind of the very best! Happy, happy day!

"I'm fiiiiiiiive years old!!!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!!!!" - Madame Olivia

Bertha

2012-01-09T12:20:00.003-07:00

It's like my blog and I are dating once more. The Double B, being very liberal in these types of things, is supportive of our relationship and not jealous at all.
Actually, last night we watched a piece of this interview with Steven Tyler and his wife and it was so -- weird. Completely and utterly fascinating to me, because I just find people so VERY interesting, but also -- kinda creepy. All I could say afterwards to my honey (just trying to fit in with the crowd, you know) was "Hey, buddy. If you say 'hi' to a girl, I'm gonna say 'hi' to a boy. So TAKE THAT!!!"
The Double B said "Okay." With a smile, of course, because he is used to me and the sideways way I sometimes think. But honestly, I really am glad to be inside my own head with my own set of whatever's. I think I'm quirky, and that's simply not a bad thing. I like to be comfortable with myself and seek that balance between being the best I can be and not being a hater when I fail gloriously. Thankfully, my Double B is comfortable with the way I am, too. That's fabulous. On the way home last night we mused on what we both find interesting -- pretty much exactly what the other finds wretchedly boring -- and that it works for us. He's learned to appreciate a good play, I've learned the rules of basketball. All good things.
Here's a romantic and tragic story:
When we were newlyweds we bought a washing machine from the parents of the Double B's best friend for $25 that they'd bought from a laundromat. It has been washing faithfully for us for almost ten years after washing faithfully for who knows how long at the laundromat. We loved our weirdo machine that had some serious individualistic streaks but still did it's best. And dangit, that was good enough.
Tragically, Bertha (as she was called) has gone the way of all the earth. Dust she was, and dust she shall become ... well, anyway.
We had to buy a new washing machine. It hurt. Ouch. But she runs like a magical dream! I have decided to call her Bessie, in honor of her size and beauty. Lucky for me, I now have a couch piled high with laundry just waiting patiently to be folded. I know myself, so it's better to fold all at once while watching the Biggest Loser VHS recording from last week.
I am happy to have Bessie in our home and thanks to her, clean clothes to wear. But I'll always look back at Bertha with fondness.
In closing, I would just like to say that though the Sabbath day is totally the favorite day of my week, I would like to know what kind of natural disaster crushes through my house on that day. It makes Monday morning clean up a real life monster to conquer (think David and Goliath here, folks). What is this force, and how do I stop it?
Olivia, my own imagination princess and favorite friend to spend the day with, is turning five on Wednesday! FIVE!!! How wonderful. How exciting. How sentimental. I often have moments where in my mind's eye I can see Olivia as a grown woman, and I know I will be so proud of her. But hers is a truly magical childhood, one I feel so blessed to be a part of. It is an honor to know her as a child. I know I will treasure this time with her all of my life.

More Sickness Then You Ever Wanted To Know.

2012-01-06T09:28:00.000-07:00

We got the flu the week of Christmas, and it is one of the most persistent little devils I've ever seen. Some days you feel fine. Then you feel yucky again. Liv and Kate are still not 100 percent, and I am dreaming of just one day without some form of hacking and nastiness.
For the record books, I have cleaned up barf for every member of this household since Christmas, and can rank them from most conscientious and toilet seeking to those that will barf on everything: the Double B and Olivia are true experts and care deeply about Mom's well-being as cleaner-upper. Mariah doesn't really care much. She'll shoot for the bowl provided (no toilet for her!) but no guarantees. I feel Katelyn would if she could, but since she can't she tends to wait for her crib or find the corner of the couch. And then we have K.J. -- the worst offender of them all. For all the pep talks, that kid simply cannot comprehend that it might be better for everybody if he just won't throw up in the middle of his bed, Mom's bed, the floor or the Vatican.
I'm concerned. I can not send him on his mission this way.
All in all, I'm sick of the yuck. It's a good thing Mother's are made of such stern stuff.

Tea Parties And Notes

2012-01-05T10:12:00.000-07:00

Olivia is throwing a tea party for her and some of her dolls. They are all sitting up at the kitchen table with washcloths on their laps and pots and pans spread before them.
I swear, this little girl is a dream.
Katelyn is taking an early nap, because she was having nuclear meltdown. Therefore; I put her in her bed lest I cook her and eat her for lunch, and she is happily snoozing away as we speak. Hopefully the bear will go back into hibernation when she wakes up.
Olivia update: she has been rubbing her eyes, because she's a little weepy -- she misses Daddy. But after letting me wear her invisible hat and deciding to make a Daddy a paper heart, she is feeling ready to rally.
This morning while being a good girl and straightening up I found a note in K.J.'s scout book written to his best cousin Addie. It says:

dear Addie
Thanks for helping me with all my problums

I thought that was quirky and adorable, but here is what I want to know:
What exactly are K.J.'s 'problums' ...
Either way, I'm sure glad Addie is helping him with them!

Being a kid is so stinking cool.

Marie Grows Up!

2012-01-04T12:57:00.001-07:00

Did any of you ever have a terror of Bloody Mary when you were kids?
I know I did. Shudder!
You probably didn't know this, but she actually lived in the first/second grade bathroom at my elementary school -- my sister-in-law can attest to this. Word on the street was that if you turned off the lights she could appear in the mirror. I had been known to be caught on the pot when suddenly the lights were turned off, and let me just tell you, AAAAAAAGGGCCKKKTTT!!! The scream inside your tiny soul at that moment is fairly garbled and indistinguishable. Makes you just want to hold it until you get home, but that's an awfully long day.
Needless to say, the fear of Mary has stayed with me, lo, these many years. There have been many, many frantic in-the-dark handwashings, carefully avoiding looking in the mirror lest she be there, looking back.
Last night, Liv was sick, and came about three to ask me to help her get a drink. I was very surprised when she went back to her own bed, so I just went right ahead and answered nature's call, thoroughly washed my hands, and climbed into my bed. It wasn't until I was settled that it occurred to me like a bolt of lightning. I Didn't Think Of Bloody Mary Once! It was my first Mary-free potty in roughly 22 years! Could I have turned over a new leaf? Does this mean I am ... Dare I say it ... Maturing?
Is this the new Marie?

Could be.
But something tells me there will be many wild leaps into the bed yet. Because the first grader inside of me is still there, loud and proud.
The End.

Not The Only Reason I'm Glad Not To Be A Teenager Anymore

2012-01-03T11:05:00.001-07:00

It's January.
When I was a teenager, I HATED New Years, mostly because I had to go out with my friends who were not nearly as much fun as my family, and usually that involved that most hated of all afflictions, a stake dance. The Horror. Actually, I tended to feel a little afraid, because obviously the world was going to end ANY SECOND, and I just had no way of knowing what the new year would bring.
Most thankfully, as an adult, New Years has become a wonderful celebration of all the blessings we've been given through the year and a fun time to be together and think about hopes and dreams. I've also learned to be a little more realistic with myself in the resolution area, so I just want to start out each day trying to be better then I was the day before. Well, I guess I do have one concrete resolution -- I want to gain a testimony of visiting teaching and go every month. Because let's face it: I am the world's worst visiting teacher. And that can change, man.

Biggest blessing from 2011: my family. That we were blessed with health and strength, to be together, to grow in size and strength, and to love each other more all the time.

Something I'm proud of: Team Three. The young women read the triple combination together this year -- it was an awesome experience. I love my girls and feel so blessed to work alongside them. Maybe they might wonder that they are sometimes asked to go above and beyond, but it is because of my own passion for the scriptures and my certain knowledge that if they can just grasp a testimony and a determination to drink from living waters that they will not fall away.
I want so much to be an old granny sitting in my rocking chair knowing that I did right by my girls. And I finally know what direction to take for the new year -- hooray!

Best book of the year for Marie: 'Unbroken,' by Laura Hillenbrand. Not to be missed! Possibly the most incredible story I've heard yet. And you do feel like you are hearing it or watching it! Incredibly told. Read it. Read it. Read it. And be thankful!

Did I tell you Liv lost a tooth? She did! Biting an apple. Youngest lost tooth in family B history. She is excessively proud.
K.J.'s baptism was certainly a highlight of my life.
We got a newborn 17 year old, so that's pretty big.
And not only does Kate give a high-five, she gives knuckles as well. What does this tell us? She's obviously a genius.

A good year.
And a good year to come.
So win-win!

2011-12-29T08:22:00.000-07:00

K.J.- Liv,if you'll turn on the t.v. for me I'll turn on a movie.

Liv- MOM! K.J. is trying to make me his own personal slave!!!

And ... Scene.

2011-12-28T16:17:00.000-07:00

This is one of the most hilarious moments of my life. And that is said while not laughing; nevertheless, it is hilarious.
We are reentering the technological age. It's true.
I will be terrorizing ya'alls neighborhoods much more frequently once more. Muh-ha-ha!
However, our new computer isn't here yet, so I'm typing this on the double b's new Christmas toy, the I-touch whilst laying on my bed. Way too weird. And also, rather hilarious.
The end.

Ten Facts (In The Name Of Christmas)

2011-12-21T11:12:00.000-07:00

In honor of the holidays, I have decided to compile ten facts to keep you "in the know" about whatever I can come up with ten facts about. It seems like the right Christmas thing to do.

1) The Double B wishes elves were real. Not Santa elves, Lord of the Rings Elves. And other mythical, beautiful, graceful, immortal creatures. But then, so do I. (Legolas, call me... but not really, I'm married.)

2) I had the weirdest dream last night. Also, I think I have just the smallest tendency to pull away from people very close to me if it seems that circumstances are changing a little, even if it's an artificial change. I think that is a lame defense mechanism, and reminds me of my teenage years. I'm throwing it out!

3) K.J. really loves Magic Tree House books. I mean, he loves them. He consumes them. And The Double B and I thank them, because they are turning our son into a voracious reader, which, in our opinion, is one of the great skills and gifts acquired in this life. Also, Amelia Bedelia is really funny.

4) Olivia created a most unusual and creative dress yesterday by layering four skirts up the length of her body. It was, actually, rather stylish. Olivia is one of those people that you just like to be around. I often find myself sighing in joy as I experience her childhood with her. Also, on Sunday Uncle Nick was getting ready to go, so she wrapped her little hand around his head to pull him close and said in her sweetest voice "Merry Christmas, I love you!" and smack! right on the lips. I think he melted.

5) Katelyn can climb on top of anything. She can also get back down. And here's the worst part -- usually, we just let her do it and let her learn cause and effect -- within measure, of course. This is possibly bad parenting, but maybe not. There is really no stopping her, anyway. She is re.lent.less. Which will be a source of great pride for us one day. This, along with her recent obsession with hair, particularly her passion for pulling mine, stretching mine, and laying it over my face, have made her a superstar of attention at our house right now.

6) Mariah is the most excited Christmas elf in the universe. She literally bounces off the walls as this day of days approaches (Does anyone else automatically think of D-Day when they hear 'Day of Days'? I know I do). Mariah is in that strangest of all limbos, between childhood and adulthood. It's a strange time in anyones life. I know it was in mine. We are working towards prepared adulthood and hoping she always keeps her child-like heart, all at the same time. She is also, finally, the proud owner of a learner's permit. So, in that oldest and most accurate of cliches, stay off the roads.

7) The line I say most often to the Double B: "Let's blow this popsicle stand and run away together. The children can take care of themselves."

8) We are under the impression that Katelyn killed our Wii. It was debated, somewhat heatedly, last night -- whether it was alive or not. I am hoping for a miraculous healing. I will not give up hoping!

9) I have to go out Christmas shopping again tonight. AGAIN!!! This time for Mariah, after 6:30 because she has her class, with all the children because the Double B will be working late making pies. This is how I know I have been conspired against. This can not be overstated: we are all waiting anxiously for that danged driver's licence.

10) As Christmas approaches, I am thankful for my family, and happy to share memories with them. I am always thankful for my family, though. This time of year just seems to hold it closer, don't you think? And we have the baby Jesus to thank for that!

This has been ten facts.
Presented to you this twenty-first day of December, two thousand and eleven.
The End.

This Is All True

2011-12-15T11:15:00.001-07:00

Team Three, ya'all.

I have a few stories today.
First off, and this is not really a story, just an observation that the whole world will be deeply interested in -- Katelyn Jill has a real passion for Diet soda. I would go so far as to call it a massive passion -- a passion so deep and true that it's actually almost a problem for the little pudding pop. And let us just say for the record, I (who used to drink at least two sodas pretty much every day of my life) hardly ever have soda pop. That's not a lie, man. Like, once a month, maybe. But today is one of those days. It is a flat soda, mind you -- it was from last night. But that just doesn't matter to either myself or Kate the Great. She doesn't care. She just loves it. Slurp. Slurp. Slurp the whole thing up. She is not interested in sharing. She is interested in ingesting that baby before someone else does. This passion makes me think of my Grandma, who thought Coke was the beginning and end in luscious drinks. Despite their shared passion, I don't think Granny would approve of my sharing my drink with Kate. But I would just have to say "Grandma, I learned from the best."
Anyhow.
Late last night I was in bed with the classic headache and "please let me barf" feeling. It wasn't a migraine, let us be clear here. Just the worst headache in the world. The I-can't-stop-this-moan-even-though-I-know-it's-pathetic-and-I'm-not-even-doing-it-for-sympathy kind. When even 'The Office' is like grating your knuckles on a cheese grater. When the light your darling, beloved husband is using to cross-stitch is actually a torture device. It is much better now, although sort of lurking there behind my right eyeball saying "give me the opportunity, baby, and I'll come back and ATTACK!" This is how I know it's sort of evil in it's designs. A righteous headache would simply float away into oblivion, saying "I'm sorry, this isn't a good time? I'll go now." I think this headache needs to repent. The real reason I share this riveting tale is because of my awesome dreams thanks to this sinner. All. Night. Long. I dreamed that I was at a poetry reading, and it was very painful poetry. But there were two boys and my young woman Mikayla that read their poetry in sort of hip-hop fashion, and if they did that, the pain would let up a little. So I would ask them to read their poetry again and again and again but their voices were tired, man. Thankfully, and because Mikayla is just this kind, they kept reading. And then I woke up.
Awesome.
Yesterday the Double B and I had a good talk. I finally felt ready to express myself. Do you ever have that problem? Probably not. But I was not well, and ALL bottled up. But finally, finally I could sit in front of him and say "Dearest, I'm ready to talk now." And then spend the next fifteen minutes conceptualizing on why I have not felt well and what I need to feel better. The Double B is kind of fun to watch when this type of spewing is taking place, because his eyeballs say it all. Trying to follow -- now that's funny -- trying to follow -- oh honey, why would you think that way -- trying to follow -- don't you know I need you, too -- trying to follow. We have made the commitment to each other that in this crazy time of our lives, when there are many people that need us, and somewhere we're supposed to be every stinking night -- we are going to MAKE time for each other. Even when there isn't time, we will find it. And I felt so much better just knowing that in all the people that need me, I need him. And he'll be there. He needs me, too. And needing each other doesn't make us weaker, but stronger as a unit, so we should nurture that and grow stronger, not weaker, especially in this totally unique time in our life together.
I'd started to feel like I was scraping the bottom of the barrel. Does that make sense? Like -- the barrel was empty -- but people I love and admire and care for would come to me, needing more meal -- so I would go to the empty barrel, scrape the bottom, and somehow there was some meal in there for that person. But then the barrel was empty again, and I kept feeling afraid that the next time there wouldn't be more. I already knew that's when faith comes in, because as we know thanks to that darling Old Testament, if it's needed, there will always be meal. But thankfully, now I feel like someone will help me pour in the meal, so it might feel low but it won't be empty. And I appreciate that. A. Lot.
Last night I had the awesome opportunity to take my girls to the temple again for Baptisms for the Dead. I don't know when I've ever felt so relieved to be within the walls of the temple, so sheltered and thankful for the deep peace that is there and feels sort of like some marvelous neosporin when you really need it. I love my girls so much. And there were three new Beehives, there for the first time, and that's so exciting! I sat in the waiting room, and the Lord and I were having a conversation. I said thanks to Him for the relief of sitting there and feeling that balm of Gilead. And I said "I know I'm not in balance, and I know I need thee to guide me. I know thou wilt help me, and that I just have to be able to listen. So if you could help me listen, I would really appreciate it."
The spirit whispered to my mind that I should read the story about Mary and Martha in the New Testament. So I got up and walked to the Bible sitting a few rows up. I've never totally understood that story, at least in relation to myself, but I wanted to see what it could teach me at this moment of my life. As Luke tells it:
"Now it came to pass, as they went, that he entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named Martha received him into her house. And she had a sister named Mary, which also sat at Jesus' feet, and heard his word. But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me.
And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things: But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her."
The footnotes put the Greek translation of careful as "worried," by the way.
I read through that story several times.
And I can imagine the Savior saying to me "Marie, Marie" -- in the most loving, patient, kind, I'm your best buddy type of way -- because I've learned something really important to me, and that's that I don't bug him with all my specialness, He does really like me -- saying it to me like "Listen carefully, I promise I will help you with what I'm going to say now."
So I'm listening, you know?
And he says "Marie, Marie, thou art careful and troubled about many things: But one thing is needful" and it's to choose the good part. To sit down at his feet and let Him teach me the good part.
Because I know He will teach me.
And maybe I don't need to be so careful, worried, and troubled about so many things. Maybe I don't need to be so cumbered about. I just need to do the thing that is needful. I just need to choose that good part.
I know He can help me do it. I know He believes in me.
So, that's it. It was a pretty great experience, I had that shake thing I do sometimes when I'm about to ugly cry because I read something in the scriptures that speaks so forcefully to my spirit that it's a ripple of pure knowledge. But I kept it together, man.
Let's be honest: usually, I would write this experience in my small plates, and keep it for myself so the Lord knows I value it. But today, he said I should share it.
So I did.
The End.

If Shakespeare Had A Baby

2011-12-07T11:36:00.001-07:00

Happy Girl.

I just read a story about a new baby's birth. It was, like, intense. And then a dear friend had her own sweet baby yesterday (congrats, sister hill!), and I just really can't wait to hear the details. Is it a Mother thing? I'm not sure, but I just love to hear all the gory details about bringing new life into the world, however you decide to or get to do it. Either way, it is huge and transformational and incredible and I actually think I'm a little selfish about it. I always want to hear all the delivery details. I guess because it's such an amazing thing to give birth and I have been changed by all three times I've been blessed to have that experience, and then I got to see my beautiful (truly, truly beautiful and sweet) niece Bella be born (which was incredible!), I just really enjoy watching Mommy's tell their story. So amazing. Such an incredible blessing to be a woman, whether you deliver naturally, survive a C-Section, wrap a newly adopted baby in your Mother arms, bring a child into your home, or help love and nurture other people's children. Doesn't matter. Being a Nurturer is God-like. I truly believe that. We actually have this God-like attribute born within us. It's our inheritance! That is so powerful to me.

That being said, there is a reason all my children are three years apart. And if I'm blessed to do that again, it will be at least that long, even if the Double B does think I'm getting old. The very idea of being pregnant ... shudder. You have to be made of tough stuff to go through that. Plus, I'm a sissy. My husband is braver then I am. He always thinks things will be "fine," and I just don't always think that. Which is why I'm married to him. He is my only link to sanity sometimes, let's be honest. Of course, he's not the one that has to do it, either.

Anyhow!
How is everybody?

K.J. got massively sick over the weekend with the worst flu ever. Do you want to know why? Because his Mom didn't get him a flu shot (or flu nasal spray, because it's just so cool they have that for the little tykes these days). Because the Double B is anti-flu shot, and I am very pro flu-shot. This year, I decided to make us his science projects and not get them for myself and my children, just to see.
Well.
Lesson learned.
Poor K.J.
It was truly wretched. By Monday, though, Olivia was in the throws of "not as much attention as my big brother," so she herself became "ill." So she and K.J. spent the whole day in my bed, shaking jingle bells when they needed me and basically living the life.
By the end of the day, I was ready to throw those jingle bells over the bridge. The Double B came home after a hard day at work and we had a small "My day was longer" contest, which I almost always concede to him, because let's face it, I have the better job, but NOT MONDAY. I was the clear and obvious winner. So I took the prize for myself.
All that really meant was I was free and clear to go see some of my girls perform in the High School production of "Macbeth." They did a great job! Personally, I love Shakespeare, and when someone can really speak it, it is so beautiful and easy to understand. Some of those kids could really speak it. Some of them could not. But my girls were amazing! Of course. I was very proud of them, and it was well done.
Have you ever seen Macbeth? Have you? I've read it a few times, but this was my first time seeing it. It's got awesome witches, spooky demons, and really demented murder -- lots and lots of murder. Just right there on the stage. I have to laugh at Shakespeare, because as we've learned from the Old Testament, there are no new sins, and Shakespeare uses them all! There are some really demented moments there, and let's be honest, when you're safe in your theater seat, demented things are really fun to watch!
Mariah came. After we sat down, she said "This is my first play!" I turned to her with wide eyes. "This is your first play?"
I had to be entertained over the fact that her first play was not only Shakespeare, but 'MacBeth.' Hm. That's being thrown into the fire, really. She is really a sissy-poo-nanny, though (think K.J.), and honestly, I don't like to be pulled out of whatever land I am in when watching plays, so we did form an agreement about not grabbing me, distracting me, talking to me, or otherwise pulling me out of Scotland.
She did pretty well with that, too.
Which proves one thing: I. am. a. bully.
At intermission she turned to me and said "I do not understand a word they are saying!" I thought that was so cute. So we went over the plot -- what we had seen, and what we would see. And honestly, I think she enjoyed it. I hope so.

You'll be glad to know that both K.J. and Olivia are on their way to recovery. Thank Goodness!

In closing, let me just say:
Hugs, people. Hugs. Not drugs.

Love, Marie.

Queen of Evil

2011-11-30T11:25:00.002-07:00

Roughly a week and a half ago, we were pulling into the driveway after picking K.J. up from school. We had our daily conversation, wherein K.J. begs "Can I go outside and ride my bike, Mom?!?" and then jumps in triumph or swoons in agony. That particular day, I said "Not right now, son, we've got too many things to do." Of course, he went into convulsions of deep pain and horror and the moans of "wwwwwhhhhhhyyyyyyy????" to which I could only reply "Because I'm mean." Then laugh in my most maniacal "oh-how-I-love-to-bring-my-children-pain" fashion. He did not appreciate this. Livi did, though. She smiled and then so pleasantly and in her most complimentary chipmunk voice said "Mom, you're the Queen of Evil!"
I thought that was so stinking awesome. I gave my most humble bow, snickering all the way and said "Why, thank you, Olivia. I like to think so." Or something along those lines.
The next night was the night before Thanksgiving and we had all gathered at Grandma's house to watch her slave away and also to watch the 'Biggest Loser' Thanksgiving special (it's a sickness. Really.). Olivia was sitting at the counter watching Grandma roll out pies when she said loud and proud "Grandma, my Mom is Evil!"
My Mom stopped, looked at her and asked "She is?"
Livi said "Yep! She is the Queen of Evil!!!" Just as proud as could be.
Jon and Trina were there, trying to control their shock and hysterics. Grandma wasn't quite sure what to do with her face.
It was a proud moment for me. Kind of.
I said, "Livi, I'm not really evil, am I?"
To which she turned around and gave me her sweetest, most vigorous nod. Sort of like, 'yep, Mom, you are.'
It was hilarious and tragic. Obviously, I spent the rest of the night trying to convince her of my benevolence and goodness. Not sure yet how that went over.

Sister Hill gave a most wonderful and timely lesson on Sunday on making the most of your time. Let's just be honest, life inside Casa de Marie has felt out of control lately. The brain has been spinning, you know? At the beginning of the lesson, Katie handed out a quiz about time management, and then you put together your scores to see where you were on the scale. Guess what. I fit into the category that literally said "You are out of control."
Well. Sheesh.
I felt very inspired by the kind, encouraging, and helpful things our very capable Beehive Advisor said throughout the lesson, and went home ready to make a change and take back what is rightfully mine. I am proud to say, the things that were in shambles because I felt out of control are now not in shambles and are contributing to the control. I feel -- more capable. So thank you, dearest Sister Hill. Last night Mariah came and sat by me on the couch after I'd accomplished something else and said "Geez, the power of a Sunday lesson, huh?"
I had to laugh. It's true. But not painfully so, helpfully so, perhaps.

Yesterday afternoon a walk was in order (as part of my "let's get control of this situation" rehaul, of course), so I convinced myself it was the right thing to do. K.J. wanted to come along on his bike, and we had a great time together. I learned something very important: jogging is as boring as it has ever been, but if you run as fast as you can, it's actually mighty fun. I'm going to try to build on that little principal, 'cause it was a little bit of a rocking good time. Of course, I kind of need K.J. to ride his bike next to me, 'cause then it's a race and fun for both of us and I feel awesome and not at all like me alter ego, the Queen of Evil. He's still a little iffy going down hills, and let's face it, he forgets all about the pedal brake in a moment of crisis, so of course he zoomed right into a huge hill of sticker bushes (to clarify: it's almost December and this is Southern Utah). He was so brave, though, I pulled out more then sixty stickers from his legs and feet and hands, and he didn't even cry. He just kind of said "ow, ow, ow" a lot. I was proud. After adventuring through a field, we got to his school and there was an ambulance and two small fire trucks there! We both felt a little concerned and hoped everything was okay. K.J. hypothesized about what the injury could be: "They might be knocked out, or hurt... or bullied, or punched!" I thought that was so rad, I chanted it to myself on the way home so I wouldn't forget it.
It was fun to spend some one on one time doing something... dare I say it... effective with my time and energy!

WE DON'T HAVE OUR CHRISTMAS TREE UP.
We've never gone this long, because my husband is actually a Christmas junkie.
I think he might have a fever, or something.

I close in the wise words of Olivia:
"Mom, when I grow up and have sons, I'm going to name them Pegasus, Lightning, Simba, Timone, Pumba, and one more... Za-zoo!"
What a colorful group of grandsons I have to look forward to!
Signing off,
MaRetard

K.J. TAKES THE PLUNGE!

2011-11-28T14:35:00.000-07:00

The awesomest thing happened:

K.J. GOT BAPTIZED!!!

It was so cool. It was an event I've looked forward to with some trepidation, because the very idea that this child that is flesh of my flesh is actually old enough to be baptized is too weird and awful and wonderful.
But when the moment came, it was so awesome.
The Spirit touched my heart and I felt so much joy that he is able to have this opportunity and wants to have it. My heart swelled up with love and pride. We told K.J. in his baptism card that he is our "pride and joy," and that is not an exaggeration. He is absolutely a bright shining of sunshine in our lives.
It was so cute to see him and his Dad practicing in the living room that afternoon as I worked in the kitchen. It did my little Mother heart good. Olivia sat on the couch and took it all in, studying for her own future use. K.J. was so excited, and listened so carefully. His Dad gave him the same instructions and counsel about keeping toes down and plugging your nose and "it'll only be about three seconds, and I've got a hold of you the whole time" that my Dad gave to me. Apparently that is timeless baptism advice.
We were able to do it Thanksgiving weekend because both of our families were down, so it was so nice to have so many Aunts, Uncles, and cousins down to share this experience with us. K.J. asked Grandma A and Aunt Sabrina to give the talks and they both did marvelously. The Spirit was so sweet, and it was SO AWESOME to see him folding his arms in the chair as so many men who love him were able to participate in the blessing as he was given the gift of the Holy Ghost. The Double B performed both ordinances, and gave K.J. such a beautiful blessing.
I just felt so blessed and happy.
Afterwards we had a little dinner with everyone there of different soups, rolls, vegetables, and cookies, and really -- it was just a swinging good time.
A happy day. A very happy day.

All in all, a great and momentous event in the Family B. I felt so happy to have reached this milestone with my tiny baby boy and so proud and relieved at the great young man he is. He has great things in his future. I think he will become a wonderful man. But then, I've always thought that. And so far, he has proved my Mother's Intuition right.
I feel blessed to be able to offer him this life-changing gospel and so glad to be his Mom.
I love being a Mom. I really do. Sometimes it is very challenging, but always incredibly rewarding and worth every second of sweat and toil. Also, let's not forget the blood and tears, because there is certainly that, too. But so many wonderful times. So many special moments. And this was certainly special. I will always cherish this memory as one of the happiest moments in my life, when I got so share something so special and important to me with my son.

It has been an interesting time in my life, to be sure. Today as I was vacuuming, I found myself thinking about how over the last little while, I really think I've earned thirty. Granted, it's more then a year away, but still. This has been a great decade, these twenties, a time of serious and exponential growth and lots of challenging times and lots of happiness, but over the last few months -- I've earned thirty. I have. I award myself the Thirty Award. Being a Mom to a teenager is just not easy (I know, all you parents to teenagers or parents who have survived teenagers are either laughing hysterically at my pain or else saying 'Well, duh, sweetie-pie-Dumbo-pants! Bless your pea-pickin' heart!'). It's been a challenge. It's been taxing. It's been everything I logically knew it would be when the Spirit said "go and do" and yet had no way to brace myself for. I think it's like Splash Mountain at Disneyland. I am afraid of Splash Mountain. I cry in the line, I get on the ride, I feel angst and terror, I clench every muscle in my body to the point of pain, my feet try to crawl out of the ride, I pray out loud like a real life psychopath as we lift up the hill "Please Lord, don't let me die, Please Lord, don't let me die, Please Lord, don't let me die" like somehow I'll be the only person to ever spontaneously die on Splash Mountain, and then my spirit leaves my body as we go over the plunge, only to return in the splash at the bottom. I leave the ride soaked but singing 'Zipitty-Doo-Dah' with all the singing animals at the top of my lungs. I have decided this can be likened to my intense, abbreviated edition of parenting my newborn seventeen year old. When we get her off into adulthood and hopefully see her making good, healthy choices for a life that has such great potential to be good and happy, we will be dripping wet, our muscles will be sore from all the clenching, the prayer hot-line will be burning hot from over-usage, but we'll be happy and singing 'Zipitty-Doo-Dah' at the top of our lungs.
This is how I know all will be well:
I have survived Splash Mountain AT LEAST ten times.
I share this not to ... over share, but just to say "This is Marie right now, everybody. You've spent some time with her now, and she is very very very special. Please keep that in mind and keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle."
And (I feel like such a rebel when I start a sentence with 'and') I love this girl and appreciate her great goodness, kindness, and ability in the face of great adversity. She is a great example in that way, and brings so much to our household. The three younger kids absolutely adore her and she is so great with them. I love her.
But teenagers are special.
I don't think it's wrong to say that.

So we had a great Thanksgiving. Thursday with my family, Friday with the Double B's family, Saturday with everyone and one of the HAPPIEST things ever(!), and Sunday crashing back into regular existence.
And the sun is shining. And it is a great day.
Hugs not Drugs,
Marie.

A Letter To My Blog

2011-11-23T18:56:00.004-07:00

Dearest Blog,
I miss you, Blog. Can I just be honest here?
I miss you.
I'm letting go of my pride and just saying that my life is not the same without you.
I miss your unconditional love and listening ear.
I miss the sanity you bring me.
And is it shallow to admit I miss your good looks, too?
You mean something to me.
This is me --
Hoping that somehow there's a future for us.
I'm just going to come out and say it ...
I love you.
Okay?
I can't control what you do with that information, I can only know that I have to say it.
Also, I miss you.
I hope that doesn't sound needy.
Yours,
Marie.

Opportunities

2011-11-03T12:28:00.004-06:00

I was just reading about my friend Tamari's trip to Disneyland -- obviously, the happiest place on earth -- and I got thinking about Ariel's Grotto. We ate there for the first time on our last family trip, which was roughly ten million years ago (or... 3 years ago. Seems longer.). Anywho, while there, I met my favorite princess of ALL TIME, Princess Aurora. I have often thought to myself "Why isn't my name Aurora? Why don't I live with fairies? Why doesn't my prince where tights and dance with me in the woods?" I just love Sleeping Beauty. I mean, come on. So here is a true story, I'm not even making it up. Princess Aurora came up to our table to chat. Olivia and K.J. got up to get a picture with her, and you know, I leaped out of my seat, too. And then she said to me: "We look quite a bit alike, don't we?"
And. I. Melted. Into. A. Pile. Of. Happiness. And. Eternal. Bliss.
I'm not even making it up, she said it. And because Sleeping Beauty said it, it is true doctrine. And as we know, true doctrine, understood, changes attitude and behavior.
Quite frankly, I realize the similarities start and end with blond hair and a love for both blue and pink, but I don't care. I'm happy.
Because Princess Aurora said it.
And I will be five years old for the rest of my life.

Speaking of being five-years-old, or very near it, yesterday Olivia informed her father and I that she is going to have one son, one tiny baby boy, and she's going to name him "Buuuuuud."
Later, when Daddy asked her if she thought she might have a girl, she decided yes, she could, and she would name her "Tinkerbell."
Which sounds perfectly viable to me.

To say the last few weeks have been adventurous, stretching, and a profound learning curve would possibly be the understatement of the year. It has been very adventurous, there has been much stretching, and we're whipping around a tight learning curve. But adventure, stretching, and learning are never bad things, so we accept the challenge and keep trying to be ever better. Have I ever shared with you my favorite scripture from the Doctrine and Covenants? It is in Section 50. There are several verses I adore and have guided me over and over again in my life, but one particular section has always comforted me. The Savior says "Behold, ye are little children, and ye can not bear all things now. Ye must grow in grace, and in the knowledge of the truth. Fear not, little children, for ye are mine..."
I feel like this is another opportunity to grow in grace, and in the knowledge of the truth. Seems like I've gotten lots of those opportunities to do so, and I'm always surprised at how those opportunities come.
Life is so cool, don't you think? Personally, it's a journey I have enjoyed since my first breath, even when I haven't enjoyed it so much. But right now, I love it. Even when my hair threatens to be pulled out, I love it.

K.J. is getting so close to baptism! Can you believe that? Isn't that horrible and wonderful? He is getting baptised the Saturday after Thanksgiving so all of his aunts and uncles can be there. He's been working hard to get ready -- there is this awesome new children's book called "What Are The Promises I Make At Baptism?" that is really helpful (even for me, let's be honest) -- and we've read that about a million times. We're also pushing to finish The Book of Mormon as a family before then so he can ask for himself and know that he has read it. I am proud of K.J. I know I'm his Mom, and all, but he is truly a very special human being. He has brought me such great joy. He has his baptismal interview on Sunday with Bishop Wendt, and he's pretty darn nervous! I remember my baptismal interview so well. I was so scared! I thought he'd ask me to explain Quantum Physics or something. It's funny and tragic how many of my neurosis K.J. has inherited.
I'm excited for this special day in our family!

Well, my darlings, my dearest ones, I hope all is well with you.

Late Night Shenanigans

2011-10-25T10:20:00.003-06:00

I shall now tell you my third daughters name, because she said I could.
Her name is Mariah.
She is smart and beautiful and has such a good heart, and boasts the title of "teenager" right now. Thankfully, she comes into our family on the tail end of that, so I feel we are narrowly missing some of the uglier teenage behaviors. Although last night is the first night of my parenting career that I had to wake up my husband because I needed to go out and look for a child. That is because it was 11:30 and she was supposed to be home at 11. Something about that late at night thing is very scary when you have someone you love and are responsible for out in the darkness and you don't know where they are or who they are with. And you should know this about me: if I can't account for you, that means you're probably dead in a ditch somewhere. I inherited that fun little thing from my father. The over-reactionary quality comes from my Mom's side of the family. So imagine the combination. As I sped down the pitch black road to her workplace, imagining all sorts of horrors and wondering at what time I could legitimately call the police, I had more sympathy for my parents and more regret for my own late night curfew escapades then ever before. Sorry, Mom and Dad. I get it now. And at only 28! You have Mariah to thank for that.
Imagine my relief and anger when I pulled up in front of the store and there she was, chatting away on a bench with her co-worker who was really going to give her a ride home, but her own ride was late. Her co-worker is a Mom and a great gal and felt sorry when she saw the worry on my face and heard the "I thought you were dead, Weirdo!" when my child opened the door. I handled the anger pretty darn well if I do say so myself, but she did get a talking to, and I laid the guilt on thick because it had to be done. Seriously. She was very sorry. I said "Honestly, could you not have called? YOU HAVE TO CALL. Next time you are thinking you might be late, YOU MUST CALL."
Sigh.
I feel more experienced then I did yesterday at this time.
Before this thirty minute block of time, Mariah gave her second dance recital for the Halloween concert her dance studio puts on. She takes Jazz dance (as does K.J., so -- score) and was so cute. I got to see her Saturday, too, but last night the whole family came, including both sets of grandparents. Are they cool or what? While there, we saw a family from our hometown and the Double B got to meet a guy named Brett that is such a nice guy and was, in fact, the nicest priest in the world when I myself became a brand-new beehive. He has the danged cutest kids now. When we introduced K.J. (who is named after my grandfather) he was like "K.J.!? Wow, you have a lot to live up to, buddy! What a great name for you to have! You've definitely got someone to look up to." And it warmed my little pea-pickin' heart, because Brett was maybe -- 10? -- when my Grandpa died, but Grandpa K.J. left a big enough impression that twenty four years later this fellow would instantly pick up on the name and what it means to us, and pay respect to that.
I thought that was cool.
I'm so proud of my Grandparents.
I'm hoping that somehow, someway the Lord will send another little girl to our family, because I've finally found a way to pay homage to my B.est. G.ranny F.orever in a name, and I want so desperately for one of my children to carry her name. If that doesn't happen, I will exert force and convince my baby brother and Sil to have another little girl and will name her myself.
See? I've got it all worked out.
Here is a story that must be told: on Saturday, one of my amazing young women (I have mentioned her before 'cause she's just so smashing), Sherine, ran down to the high school to see Mariah dance. Yes, folks, she ran. Now that is friendship! We enjoyed watched the concert together and then afterwards she drove with us to the local store so Mariah could get her work schedule. While there, we saw an arrest! And a lady, too! First it was just one cop with a car pulled over in the parking lot. Sherine convinced me this was something that must be seen, because somethin' was goin' down. And she was right. Three cop trucks later, she was put into hand-cuffs and carried away.
It was thrilling, to say the least.
I'm not going to lie, I felt exactly like Harriet the Spy.
And it was a darned good feeling.

Signing off, folks.
MaRetard.