Today I...

Some days are busy.  Some days, I don't feel like I really accomplished anything.  Some days I actually don't.  This is the story of a full day.

Toady, I slept in some.  I made breakfast (a special weekend one: English muffins with eggs and bacon, milk, orange slices).  I cleaned up the kitchen, and taught a reluctant teenager how to mop a floor.  I moved big dining chairs so a son could vacuum under the table more easily (hate having carpet under our table).  I organized a fair chore list.  I fed babies.  I changed a dozen diapers.

 I made bread.  I deep-fat fried the bread dough into fry bread when it didn't rise.  I made dinner (fry bread, homemade apricot jam, little smokies in barbecue sauce, and carrot sticks).  I pulled screaming children in from a beautiful afternoon.  I put the two of the small children down for naps.  I sang songs together with my children.  I settled arguments.  I cleaned the computer room.  I folded two loads of laundry.  I vacuumed the living room.  I moved a pile of boxes back into the closet I had taken them out of (two months ago) when I thought I was going to organize said closet.  I lost my daughter (Dad took her on an errand).

I gave two haircuts and three baths.  I got four boys through the shower.  I helped a son decide that his shirt was really, unbearably wrinkly, and found another shirt for him.  I threatened terrible happenings if the Legos didn't get picked up (only half found a home).  I made more food (we downed a number 10 can of peaches, a whole bunch of cottage cheese, orange floats, and pretzel sticks).  I made two fighting boys lay on their backs on the floor and sing until they were laughing.  I watched my sons play tennis on the Wii.

I made an alphabet banner out of a sheet of poster board.  I showed a boy how to scrub soap scum off the edges of a sink.  I taught a little girl how to play "Hokie Pokie".  I read bedtime stories and brushed three little mouths full of teeth.  I smiled as a teenaged son gave me a hug.  I told all my children that I loved them.

And I watched four hours of TV - two 2-hour church meetings.  We'll have two more tomorrow.  They call it General Conference, and we do this twice a year.  I call it having my bucket filled.  It was a crazy day, but I was able to keep up and manage everything because my spirit was at peace.  Today I thank the Lord for the wonderful craziness that I call home.

Peaceful Morning

It was a rough night.  Some nights are like that.  It started out with an argument, then another disagreement.  Then getting to bed late, followed by worrying.  The baby wakes and needs comforting.  After he is returned to his crib, all possible shreds of sleep have fled.  Lay still, turn quietly so as not to disturb anyone.  Too hot - push off covers.  Too cold - pull them back up.  Now both babies are at the bedside, pulling down pillows to stand on so they are tall enough to climb up and in.  Before they are settled, the girl comes in, hair wild, eyes wild.  "I just wanted you," she slurs -  sleepy, terrified.  She slides in, I slide out.  Put the drooping babies back to bed, hold her cold little body until she warms and relaxes.  Carry her back to her bed, crawl back into mine.  The alarm goes off - it's 5:30.  Too tired to be bothered or angry about it.  Read scriptures with the family, get the early boys headed off to school, stumble back to bed.  This time, the sleep is deep and longer.  My sweet man takes care of breakfast and lets me sleep.  And sleep.

When I wake, I feel better - alive again, even a bit refreshed.  The sun is already climbing up in the sky, and I breathe a prayer of thankfulness that I have enough strength to face life.  It won't be a high-energy kind of day, but my slowness forces me to be methodical, purposeful, intent.  I notice more, think more.  Perhaps I ought to slow down more...

and go to bed earlier tonight.

Possessions Moving Syndrome

I understand from talking with my brothers' wives that my family has a bad case of Possessions Moving Syndrome (PMS).  I thought it was pretty normal to be suddenly seized by a wild desire to move things around a bit.  Before you know it, we're jumping up and hauling furniture around: the couch against that wall, try the piano over here, and does the end table fit in this corner?  I remember sitting with my brothers late at night when PMS struck, and we were rearranging the living room until 2 am.  I thought nothing of it.

It wasn't until I moved out and married that I started to realize that other people might not be as anxious to embrace a fresh change.  I don't know how many times my dear husband reached for a glass to get a drink of water, only to turn around with that "I can't believe you rearranged the cupboards again" face.  The utensils were not immune, either.

There are different severities of PMS, of course.  For some, it only involves furniture.  A bad case can spread to other household possessions, including kitchen cupboards, bathroom storage, coat closets, sock drawers, and refrigerator contents.  I haven't heard of yard plants being infected with PMS, but I suppose it is clinically possible.  We once suffered an outbreak so severe that, over the course of two years, we were forced to move all our possessions over a thousand miles and back.  Thankfully, we are in remission from that strain now.

I think PMS helps us get a fresh perspective.  It's cheaper than new furniture, easier than moving to a new house, and quicker than knocking out walls (which I also struggle with).  I'm always looking for something that works just a bit better.  For example, I recently changed the furniture in my family room to make it easier to block the babies out of the kitchen.  How easy and functional is that?  When we had family members who struggled with balance, I moved the furniture to make the walkways straighter and shorter.  Other good reasons to move furniture are to take advantage of a lovely view, move seating away from a cold window in the winter, or place more chairs at the table.  Or just PMS for fun.

On behalf of my family, I apologize for any discomfort our PMS has caused.  Trent just shakes his head and smiles at me, but I think he really likes it.  It's not that strange, is it?

About Snaps That Don't

Being a mother is not easy.  Let me say that again.  Being a mother.  Is. Not. Easy. But I get better at it as I go along.  Some of the things which troubled me as a young mother have become easier.  There are an awful lot of things I wish I'd known when I started.  I can't count the number of times I've kicked myself and shouted, "Why did it take me five (or six, or seven, or even eight) babies to figure this out?"  But I do wish I'd known then some of the things I know now.  Here is another post in a What I Wish I'd Known (or WIWIK) series.

I hate it when I snap a baby into an outfit, only to have it come unsnapped as soon as they wiggle a bit.  Freddie is wearing the cutest little pajamas, so warm and snuggly soft - except that his entire right leg is poking out through the snaps that didn't stay snapped.

I wish I had known that loose snaps are fixable!  Here is the easy solution.  You convince the snaps to behave themselves with a hammer.  I am not kidding.  Do not try this method on your children.

image from Wikipedia, where I learned that snaps have been around in some form since at least 210 BC, and were first patented in 1885!

All snaps have two parts - the pokey-outie (head), and the pokie-innie (hole).  We want the pokey-outie part.  Place the snap, flat side down, head side up, onto a hard surface.  Give it a few gentle taps with the hammer.  That's it.  Easy.

When snaps don't stay snapped, it is because the head isn't big enough to fill up the hole.  Tapping it with a hammer spreads the top of the head back out, and makes it stick - and stay stuck.  Problem solved.

That's all.

The Not Hungry Games

Want your kids to not be hungry? It's easy! Just feed them whatever they want to eat!

This is what Fred and George had for breakfast:  sippie cups of milk (their favorite), and theater popcorn.  How delightful!  How fun!  How tasty!  How (not very) healthy!

Memo:  next time Trent goes to see "Hunger Games" on the opening day, be sure and encourage him to NOT leave the leftover popcorn on the counter.

Family Fun(?) Center

Well, they did it.  They talked me into going to the family fun center.  The boys, having received year-long passes for Christmas (you're welcome), have been going there about every week.  I can usually come up with an easy excuse to not go.  The boys love going, but it really doesn't appeal to me.  I know what I would do if the whole family went together: spend a few hours trying to herd our little ones in small spaces.  Not fun.  I know, it's dreadfully un-family-ish, and un-mother-ish.

But they talked me into going.  I will admit that I was ungracefully grouchy about going.  I should have at least been fake-happy about being together with the family, but I wasn't.  I need to work more on that.

So this is what we did.  The boys all went to play a round of laser tag, and I took the little ones outside.  They found the airplanes right off, and Angel couldn't wait to get on.  What fun!

The babies love everything helicopter and airplane, and couldn't stand to just watch the action from outside the fence, so we let them ride, too.

They were having a great time going around, until the plane actually left the ground.  Then they both screamed until the ride ended.  They couldn't wait to get off that terrible ride.

Trent took Freddie on a little spin in the car.  I'll just take the wheel now, Dad.

The wind started to whip up so we went back inside.  The laser tag session over, David was great to occupy  the twins in the little play zone.

Ben took Angel and Eddie on the FrogHopper.  He was cute to hold Angel's hand and talk to her soothingly the whole time.  Eddie loved it!  He took Angel on the ride again, but she wasn't so sure about it that time.

They all got back in line to play a few more rounds of laser tag.  Chris won, and got the family's all-time high score of over 16,000 points (whatever that means, but he wrote it very largely on the white board when he got home).

I guess it wasn't too bad.  I mean, I'm not ready to go again this weekend, but I suppose I will go again eventually.  Our passes are good until next December.  They are.  And the kids love it.  <sigh>  That's part of being a parent, though, isn't it?  Doing things that make your kids happy and build memories, even if it isn't your personal favorite?  I'll be better about it next time.  (Sorry for my bad attitude!)

Who Stole the Cookies?

We were teaching Angel and the babies about stealing cookies.

Our whole family sat in a circle (the bigger boys were good sports... perhaps bribery was involved), and Ben started.  "Chris stole the cookies from the cookie jar!"

Chris good-naturedly responded, "Who, me?"
"Yes, you."
"Not me!"
"Then who?"
And it was Chris's turn to accuse David of stealing the cookies.  We went a full round, and Eddie accused Angel of being the thief.

"Angel stole the cookies from the cookie jar!"  Ben was holding her on his lap, and was prepared to coach her through the chant.  But she was too fast.  In her best that's-just-the-way-it-is voice, she proclaimed, "Yes I did!"

Well.  The game erupted in giggles, and that was the end of it.