Mornings

Was it Garfield that always said he hated mornings? Or was that Mondays? Same difference I guess.

Well, as is tradition for the women in my family, I hate mornings. And we're also speed readers. But that's another post.

I much prefer to stay up late and get up late. Funny, cuz my dad and my brother are opposite of my mom and sister and I. They go to bed early and get up early, always. Keno used to play the piano outside my bedroom at 6 in the morning so that someone would get up with him. Nice.

When I was in college, I could easily sleep in until noon. Sometimes even on the days I had class:)

But then I got married and had children. And suddenly sleeping in was 7. Seven! What the heck.
I thought being a stay at home mom meant sleeping in and doing whatever I wanted. Ha! Double ha!

And then came time for Kate to start school. And I had to get up about the same but it was harried and rushed. Instead of lounging in our pajamas for hours in the morning, she had to be fed, dressed and out the door.

At this point in my life, I now have 4 children in school. The older two in middle school leave for the bus at 7:30.
After they are gone, I get everyone else up, and then out the door at 8:30.

Next year will be earlier when the junior high bus leaves at 7:15. Aack!

So traditionally, I am a stress case in the mornings. "Get your shoes on, brush your teeth, hurry or we'll be late for the bus. Where's your backpack, did you get your lunch?"

And then we run out pel mel and usually make it in time. But not without some irritation and dirty looks from me. Not nice.

I would repeatedly tell Charlie and Anne Marie, "When I tell you what you need to be doing, it's because I know what time it is and how much time til we leave and I really need you to listen." This said while my voice progressively gets louder and screechier.

But then I found the thing that has both saved me and irritates the you know what out of me.

The Wii.





I can tell them now that if they are fed, dressed, teeth brushed, shoes on, and completely ready to go, then they can play the Wii BEFORE school.

And it's worked. I kind of hoped it wouldn't because I just hate video games.
But it did, and now the morning is a lot less stressed because they mostly get completely ready without being told.

*sigh*

This proves why the 50's were better, back then I would have been the one in control.

But I've been replaced as the most motivating thing in the house by, the Wii.

How do you get your children out the door every morning without a lot of threatening or wailing and gnashing of teeth? Or are you going to make me feel better and describe a similiar scenerio?

Do tell.

Fall Mantel

This is my first year decorating my mantel for anything other than Christmas.

Weird, I know.

I've known and heard of lots of people who decorate for Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Valentines and the 4th of July.

I was just never one of those people. It seemed like too much work and effort.

But then I started to get sick of seeing my mantel the exact same everyday.

Sorry for the fuzzy picture, it's all I could find.


So while lovely, I found I was starting to get tired of looking at the same stuff everyday.

Then we got a flat screen t.v.
That helped for a little while.

Then I got tired of that being the focal point of the room and I made Jeff take it out.

But then I was left with a gaping hole above the fireplace, and though I knew what I wanted there, I had to be patient and find it. Because once I found it, the decorating possibilites would open right up.

So until then I decorated for Halloween with some lights and other Halloween-y stuff. Which I didn't take a picture of, so you'll just have to take my word for it. And it helped transition that gaping hole into something fun for the holidays.

And then it happened. Jeff found what I was looking for one day when he took a different way home. (fate, kismet?)

There, at a road side "antique" store, he saw probably a hundred old shutters.

Big, tall shutters. Large enough to fill that big empty space.

And the best part? While a little grody and dirty, they were already this beautiful turquoisy blue color.

The guy told us that they came from an old hotel (brothel) in Singapore. That creeped me out a little bit. So I've decided to pretend they came off an old plantation house in the south instead.
Ya with me?

So after scraping and pressure washing to get all the old loose, lead paint off, they were ready to display.


Stick a wreath on the front, or a large paper heart, or an American flag, and you have presto change-o decor options.

Don't you love it?

I do a little dance inside everytime I look at those shutters.

I love how they're not perfect. That they look old and weathered but that the blue is still so lovely and vibrant.

As my friend Daisy said "they just say "Amy"

I would have to agree.


What have you done with your mantel? Put a link in the comments so we can all check it out.

I wish it was the 1950's.

Ever feel like you live in the wrong decade?

Ever wish you could go back in time and experience a different way of life?

I imagine most of my life would have been exactly the same in 1950 as it is now.

Stay at home mom who:

Has lots of kids
Bakes her own bread
Has dinner on the table when hubby gets home.
Cleans.
Makes the children's lunches.
Breakfast on the table every morning.
Active at church.
Some college but gave it up when babies started arriving.
Loves to chat with the neighborhood ladies.

But I would not have been a mom who:

Had to say, "who are you texting?"
Put your DS away.
It's time to get off the Wii.
Drove 800 miles a day ferrying her kids everywhere.
Shook her head at the how short skirts have become.
Had to put a passcode on the computer and the television to protect her kids from smut. (yes, I said smut!)

Of course I probably would have complained that Rock n' Roll was too loud and I would have had a neat and tidy bomb shelter built to withstand any missile crisis. I would have set out the bottles for the milk man every week and put aside everything else to watch Ed Sullivan.

But I would have done it in saddle shoes and the original skinny pants.

So yes, sometimes I feel like I was an adult in the wrong decade. And I guess that's just gonna have to be ok. Because I'm positive there is a reason I was born when I was.

So what decade would you like to live in? And don't worry, I will still be your friend if you say the 70's.

Halloween

Our family loves Halloween. I don't want to say it is our favorite, because Christmas probably claims that title, but it is a close second.

We just like to dress up. Sometimes for no reason.

We have 4 boxes of costumes. We outfitted all 4 of my sister's kids and probably could have outfitted an entire other family as well.

I'm just saying, we like costumes.

So for the annual Trunk-or-Treat/Harvest party at church on Saturday night, we did our thing.


Kate, in her first ever slightly scary costume, The Queen of Halloween


Julia as a mercenary. 50 points if you can tell me in the comments what a mercenary is.




Charlie as the much beloved Harry Potter. Isn't he so dang cute?



Henry started out as Buzz Lightyear, but then he saw Jeff's dagger for his costume and wanted to be a ninja. Well, strangely enough we did not have a ninja costume lying around, so we went for Ninja Robin. The dagger makes all the difference you know.



Anne Marie went as a witch. She is doing her best cackle there, in case you were wondering.


And then there's Nora, who started out as Sleeping Beauty, hated that, then went to Cinderella, hated THAT, then moved onto an ER doctor, REALLY hated that, and finally ended up going in her pajamas as a tired baby.


Finally there is Jeff. Who just happened to have a Brazillian Gaucho outfit that also doubles as a pirate costume . Add one pirate-esque wig and you have a pretty good stand in for Johnny Depp. Hubba hubba.


And finally there's me. Who didn't really feel like dressing up this year. I had gone through an assortment of ideas in my head, pulled from the costume boxes. But inspiration struck while perusing the last minute aisles of Fred Meyer.

I was asked if my costume was any of the following:

Mall Cop
Character from Beastie Boys video "Sabotage"
Pat (the androgynous character from SNL)
Food Inspector (What?!)

I am in fact a fat, donut eating cop from the 70's.

But probably any of the above would work.



I hope your Halloween was as fun as ours. But how could it be unless you have 4 costume boxes and 8 people to outfit?

I'm going to go lay down. I'm tired just thinking about it.

It was supposed to be about Halloween

Dear Jeff,

This post was supposed to be about Halloween.

About our AWESOME costumes!

But the do-hicky for the camera that you gave me isn't working, any ideas about where the real one is?

Cuz I really, really want to post pictures of you as my favorite pirate ever, and of me in the best cross dressed costume ever!

Can you help me?

Love,

Amy

The reality of reality t.v.

Lets start with the basics, if you don't already know.
Not much about reality television is real. Including home makeover shows.

*gasp* Really? Yes, really.

When my friend told me I should apply for HomeMade Simple, I did so thinking there was no way they would pick us.

Honestly because though we can be messy occasionally, I love to decorate, I'm not that bad at organizing, and in general I think we have it together.

And I realized after this whole process that that is totally true. But they loved the idea of a family with 6 kids. So we got picked.

Now, when the whole crew arrived to start filming, most of them said something to the affect of "why are we in this house?" "this girl doesn't need us, she could work for us."

And while their comments made me feel good, I began to see how t.v. is so scripted that they can make anything they want with the final edits.

But I am not jaded. It was super fun. Everyone was really nice, and they made the experience a great one for us. I would totally do it again, my eyes were just opened to how it all really works.

I now know that no matter how put together, creative, blessed with decorating talent and efficient in their parenting skills someone might be, they would still give the same intro they gave me.

"Amy, a busy mom of six, doesn't have time for decorating and struggles with preparing meals for her family."

Not really true. But that's the angle they wanted, because otherwise, why would I need Homemade Simple?

And though most of our interaction with the Mavens was genuine, our one on one camera interviews with the director were mostly lines fed to us. Not lies at all, but just carefully worded to work with the script. Things like when I said "Now instead of the Odd Couple, they're the Spotless Sisters"

Yeah right, like I would really say something that cheesy. But it worked.

And he made Kate say that she was the cleanest one in the house. She hated saying that! Kate is extremely honest anyway, but she had a hard time with that cuz she would never, ever say something like that. You can tell, if you know her well, when she says it that she is uncomfortable with it.

Julia just rolled with it all. And once we shut down their efforts to make Julia look bad, she had a great time.

Their working theme for the show was the Odd Couple. They really wanted to cast Julia and Kate as complete opposites, which they are, but not in the way they wanted to tell it.

The first attempts were to make Julia look like the lazy, messy girl, and for Kate to be the put together tidy girl. And while they have different ways of organizing, and clutter doesn't bother Julia, the four of us were very uncomfortable with the way they were portraying Julia.

So I began some subterfuge, and when the director would try to get me to say how messy Julia was, I would say instead "she just likes to be organized on the floor", or " julia is so creative and so she likes to have her belongings around her. "

We all just started refusing to play the game until finally Mike caught on, reassured us they would not make Julia look bad, and he stopped trying to get us to say negative things about her.

Because honestly, HomeMade Simple is not an expose. They are not trying to make people look bad, they just want them to look like they are in super need of the Maven's help.

Which is another interesting thing. While all the Maven's have earned their right to be there, with there career paths, their talents and their ideas, none of them could do it without their assistants.

Patrick's assistant Jesse made everything. Patrick would say he made it, but it was really Jesse. Patrick could have made it, but the stars usually are just there for the on camera stuff, and their assistants do everything else. Including the shopping and the putting together of the ideas.

The ideas themselves are a collaborative effort from the whole crew, but the assistants to the mavens do all the real work.

I was amazed by that. I had been an honest believer in what I saw on T.V. It never crossed my mind that the Maven's weren't really there sweating away while they put the ideas together.

And while all the Maven's were super great, my favorite was Candace, the cooking Maven. She really created the recipes for one (which were honestly sooo good), but she was so honoring of who I am as a wife and mother and decorator. She asked me all kinds of questions about how to find the right guy (I told her church is probably the best place to find someone with her same values) and we just really connected and had a great time spending a whole day together cooking.

We also, really did almost nothing for the actual projects. Either they would replace what we had been making with already made items (made by the assistants), or they would undo the stuff we had done and then do it for real.

And the product placement was hilarious. Proctor and Gamble has a guy that travels around with the show, and his entire job is to place P&G products throughout the house, and to make sure the sponsors products get the agreed upon air time. The rest of the time he is on his lap top or playing with his phone.

I want his job.

Probably the hardest part, for me personally, of seeing the show air was that I found it is not a myth that the camera adds ten pounds.

When I first met Wanda, the decorating maven, I was alarmed to see that she was littler in real life then on t.v.

So while I am not little, or skinny by any means, it was hard for me to see myself looking even chubbier. I'm neurotic, what can I say.

And I'm backed up by a few friends and my sister (who see me everyday)who noticed that as well.

So that part of television is real, unfortunately.


But we do love the girls' room. They did a great job and it's functioning well for us. And the Laundry Chest they made is beautiful. They really did make it out of the girls old desk.
Although I can't bring myself to put dirty laundry in it. So for now it is holding blankets.

But now that the show is over, I can post pictures.

This is the before picture of the girls room that I sent the casting director.



And here are the afters-This desk is my favorite thing. They each have their own side, with their own stuff. But on the show they said they found the table at a flea market for 30 dollars. No. They made it. And they made the cork board, even though they said they found it at a garage sale for 10 bucks. They just want you to feel like you can do this project yourself without having to make anything. Which, is probably technically true.





The chairs they really did get at a thrift store.






They said they got the mailboxes second hand, which is only true of one of them. The rest they bought brand new. But it's been a great addition to the girls room. At first I didn't like them, but it really keeps their hands off stuff away from the little kids. Henry and Nora and Anne Marie never even think to look in there.



I love the color on the walls and the bedding. Ashley, Wanda's assistant, really picked bedding that matched each girls personality and personal taste.

And I loved that they took a picture of the dot mural that my sister in law Amy had done for the girls. Everyone, including Wanda and Ashley were sad to paint over it. So they preserved it in the little hanging frames in front of the windows.



All in all, it was fun, and some of us would do it again. But not Kate. She in fact told me she just wants to forget the whole thing.

I think the worst moment was right at the end of the reveal, before the mavens left. In every past season they always give the family 500 dollars at the end. So we kind of expected/hoped for it.

Well, at the end Patrick told us that they left something special for us in the mailboxes. So we thought, ok, this is it.

We walked over to the mailboxes and inside were two pieces of paper that the Maven's had signed with their names and"enjoy your new room!"

So while it was nice, I'm sure our faces showed "um, where's the 500 dollars?"

So that didn't make the final cut. And it was a little bit of a let down, but now after watching season 7, no one got money.

They probably spent about 500 dollars on redoing our two rooms, plus super yummy catered food.

So that was 500 dollars I didn't have for a room redo, and 4 days where I didn't have to cook.
And I didn't have to do any of the real work, and our family got to be on T.V.

So all's well that ends well, I say.

So give me your feedback if you watched it. And tell me that I'm way skinnier in real life, ok?
Yes, I want you to lie to me. That's what friends do, isn't it?

Tomorrow is the day!

Candice Kumai, the cooking maven from Home Made Simple-in MY kitchen!
And Mike Harrigan, producer/director for our episode. Both fantastic people, by the way.

Did you ever have one of those dreams where you show up to school without your pants on?

Or did the boy you like find out you liked him, but he didn't feel the same way?

Did you ever see someone from high school, or an old boyfriend,and you were wearing sweats and a frumpy shirt with your hair in a ponytail?

Or did you ever check out at the grocery store, with a cart full of groceries, and find out you left your wallet at home?

Did you ever get food poisoning really bad, but you were on vacation, so you had to share the bathroom with other people?

Or did you ever drive right past a school bus with it's red lights flashing because you weren't paying attention?

Well, I have done all of those things. But none of it will be as bad as if I look like an idiot tomorrow.

Yes, tomorrow is the "premiere" of our episode of Home Made Simple on TLC.

I am trying to quell my nervousness by focusing on the immense cleaning job I need to do in preparation for all of the people that are going to be here tomorrow.

Which, if you are in the Maple Valley area tomorrow, you are invited to attend as well.

Because obviously I am a glutton for embarassing moments in my life, and need lots of people to share in that first hand. So when you watch it, be gentle with me in your assessment of how I did.

Of course Jeff and the kids will look and be great.

And of course it won't be as bad as I think, right? RIGHT?

Baby no more

2 nights ago we moved Nora out of her crib and into a toddler bed. To say it was difficult was an understatement.

But I kept my sadness about her growing up to myself. I seriously think my family is sick of me lamenting every new milestone with her. Sheesh lady, get a grip.

And she is soooo happy in her new bed. Bedtime and naptime, for now, is a breeze.



But then something else happened this week that threw me for a bigger loop.

My oldest child, my first baby, wants to be a princess for what may be the last time she dresses up for Halloween. That in itself is difficult enough for me to think about.

But when she came down the stairs wearing my freshman prom dress? Well, get the smelling salts and brandy, I about passed out.



So this week felt like I lost two babies. And yes, I know they will always technically be my babies, but things really do change.

But on the plus side, Kate is now so funny that she says stuff all the time that makes me laugh and laugh.

And not the laughter you fake for your 5 year old when they tell you a joke they made up.
But really, honest to goodness, "that was hilarious" laughter.

And Nora tells me all her own "I ul you Mommy".

So, there are some upsides to this growing up thing.

And in a few years when Kate starts to drive, or Heaven forbid, date, I'll try and keep that in mind.

Finding Joy

I have a goal to be happy.

Why do you need a goal to be happy, you ask? Aren't you already happy?

Of course I am.

But my goal is to be super, ridiculously, outrageously happy.

And that can only happen if I choose it. If I whisper it to myself everyday.

*I am happy*

*I am happy*

*I am happy*

Over and over again. My brain will believe whatever I tell it.

And I'm telling it to be super, ridiculously, outrageously happy.

And of course, this little guy helps with that goal.

Cuz who wouldn't be happy with him around?

Even if he is sad.

Why is he sad, you ask?

I don't know. Maybe he needs a kiss.

Maybe not.

In bloom

Jeff bought these flowers for me at Pike Place Market on Saturday.

We had spent the previous evening at a swell hotel in downtown Seattle. Our room had a great view and the restaurant on the 28th floor also provided a breathtaking view of downtown. Although we decided we liked the food at Red Robin better-what can I say, we're simple folk.

We have been married 14 years, which is an eternity for most people in this day and age.
But for us, it's just a drop in the bucket. We plan on much longer than that.
And we like eachother more than we did when we got married.

We try to get away at least once a year, just the two of us. We love our kids so much, but we've learned that when we pay attention to our marriage, and make sure that we are thriving as a couple, then everyone in the household benefits.

And of course, a lovely hotel room and no kids has it's benefits. *wink*

But being able to talk to eachother with no interruptions, about everything under the sun, reminds us of why we fell in love in the first place.

I'm reminded that Jeff is one of the funniest people I know. He makes me laugh all the time, even in Sunday school when I'm supposed to be paying attention, and instead I'm laughing so hard I'm shaking.

I remember that Jeff adores me and that I truly adore him. What could be better for children then to see their mom and dad love eachother?

And I am amazed that after 6 kids, countless moves, job changes, etc. we still like being together.
We still are the other's favorite person, and we still need eachother.

Always.

Henry-isms

Putting children to bed is always an adventure.
From the fits they throw because they don't want to go to bed,
to the things they say when you're snuggled up together, reading a book.

One evening, Henry was EXTREMELY mad at me for not letting him wear his spiderman costume to bed.

Normally I'm not so unreasonable. But from experience I knew that if he wore it, then inevitably he would be in our room trying to get it off fast enough to go pee, which wouldn't happen in time and then I would be washing the spiderman costume at 2 in the morning.

Anyway....he was in the midst of his "I want my spiderman costume" tantrum. Screaming at the top of his lungs. Literally.

I just calmly kept saying "what book do you want to read Henry?" repeatedly.

And he just kept screaming. Loud.

Finally I said "Ok, I'll pick one out." And proceeded to look for a book to read.

When he saw that I was really going to pick out a book and not give him his spiderman costume
he did the following:

"Aaahhhhh(stop mid scream). Yeah, I want a book." Said VERY calmly. I wish I could switch my tantrums off that fast.

He picked out the Suess book, Hop on Pop.

As I read to him, he sat quietly, until we got to this page:

It says: Dad is sad. Very, very sad. He had a bad day. What a day dad had.

To which Henry commented "I know why he had a bad day. It cuz someone come up to him and go (imagine punching motion)! Right there!(pointing to dad's folded hands)"

And all I could say through my laughter was "yes, henry, that would make it a bad day for him".

I love that he didn't ask me why dad had a bad day. He just came up with his own reason.

A reason which would indeed cause dad to have a very bad day.

Comments

So despite what Jeff told me about the do-hicky to plug the camera to the computer being in the drawer to the right, it's not, to the right.

So instead of posting about something funny Henry said, I decided to wax eloquent about comments.

First of all, when I write a post, I usually am not thinking at all about who will read it.

I just like to share things about our family and life, and occassionally when Jeff will tell me that a co-worker has told him about reading my blog (thank you, thank you by the way dear co-workers of Jeff) I realize,"oh, people read this. Oh yeah."

But once something is written and I have hit publish, then I am quite suddenly aware of who may read, and who may comment.

And then I check back through the day to see what people have had to say about my words.

I would love to say that I don't care, but that would be a total and complete, utter lie.

I do care. I base the worth of my blog post on how many people have commented on it. I read every comment as if it's a note from a long lost friend.

I cherish every word said. Truly I do.

In fact, I may obsess a little and wonder what made one post garner more attention than another.

It could be that most of us don't post a comment unless something really moves us, or something exciting has happened or something tragic.

And I understand.

But I know you're out there, the people that read and never comment.

And I want you to know that I appreciate all of you. Every person who comments, and every person who reads without commenting, and every person who will email me from time to time to say they loved something about my blog. (you know who you are dear friends in Utah, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island.)

But I realize I have also been remiss in my responses. Sometimes someone will comment and say something so funny or kind and I may laugh or smile or feel touched, but I don't comment back.

So now I'm going to. You may count on me talking back to you through the comments section on this blog. That way you know I'm listening, that I care (alot) and that you matter to me.

Now I am off to have a fantastic day, which I hope for all of you as well.

And tomorrow Jeff will have found my do-hicky and I will have a short but awesome post about Henry.

Til then.

Why I enjoy being a girl-or The things Jeff does that I don't have to

Last week, while trying to carry out yet another of my whims, Jeff had to go under the house to reroute the cable so that we could watch t.v. in a different room.

I got it in my head that the "formal" living room was a dead space. Meaning, we never went in there, like, ever.

And wanting a great room where you could sit and talk at the kitchen table without competing with the t.v. became a priority.

So the living room became where we watch t.v., and the family room has become where we hang out and talk.

It's working out lovely. I love it, the kids love it, and Jeff was an absolute dear to arrange it all for me.

But it was not without it's costs to Jeff's peace of mind.

I didn't talk about it on this blog, but I mentioned a few months back on Facebook that we had rats.

Yes. Yuck. Yikes.

Somehow a family of them took up residence under our house. I won't go into details of how we discovered this, cuz well, it still gives me shivers. And not the good kind.

Thanks to good old fashioned rat traps, surrounded by mice traps, we got 4 of them.

We kept laying out the traps until we had no more rats show up in them.

But each time Jeff would open the trap door to under the house, I would mention how I thought it was starting to smell different=meaning:bad.

But he thinks my nose if oversensitive, and I admit it is. So he didn't worry about it, and I pushed it to the back of my mind.

Until the night he went under the house.

We were on the phone to eachother so that I could help thread the cable up through the floor.
As Jeff worked his way to the far corner of the craw space, he says "Oh my gosh."

And I say "What?!" Cuz of course I'm thinking, more rats."

And he replies"You don't want to know."

To which I say"You found a dead one didn't you? That's why it smells weird."

Jeff "yes. this is disgusting." I got to listen to a bunch of "yuck, nasty, oohhhh" and other exclamations of disgusted-ness.

Now Jeff is not of a weak stomach. The man has cleaned up some pretty nasty things being the father of 6 children and a wife who gets really sick when she is pregnant. So he can handle it.

But I'm pretty sure this put his resolve and strong stomach skills to the test.

And because he was underneath the house, way in the corner, and was not prepared to remove dead, rotting rodents, he had to improvise.

I suggested he use his shirt. He didn't like that idea.

So he tore some of the tarp stuff they lay down as a moisture barrier, somehow removed it from it's nest where it died, and wrapped the deceased creature in it.

When he emerged from under the house, I would like to say I was there welcoming my hero home.

But I was hiding.

I didn't care if the thing was wrapped up, I didn't even want to see that much.

I do not have a strong stomach. At all.

And I decided that I was right. When I had started smelling something from the crawl space, I told Jeff that I thought one parent just curled up and died when it's mate and children were snapped.

And I still think that is true.

And while I can sort of sympathize with that, I still believe that the only good rat, is a dead rat.

Or a rubber one.

Just because it's Friday

Just because it's Friday,
we all need a good laugh.

At Jeff's expense.

Which I'm pretty sure was his whole intention when he donned this:




What? You don't have a big box of costumes that you dive into occasionally just for fun, that just happens to contain fly, poodle and abominable snowman costumes, to name a few?

Um, yeah, us neither.

Sweet smelling

Nora has this spot on the back of her head, kind of behind her ear, kind of right above her neck,that I like to smell and kiss.

It's a mom thing.



Part of it's her fine little hair tickling my nose, and part of it's that she just smells unbelievable, to me, all the time.

Well, yesterday was different.

Many mornings I offer up to my older children the opportunity to get Nora from her crib.
And then they fight over who gets to go get her.

It's because she is all warm and toasty from sleeping, and she is so glad to see you, and she wraps her little arms around your neck and squeezes while you lift her from the crib.

Usually it's accompanied by her little squeal of "Mommy!" or "Kate!" or "Larlie" or "Amrie!" or "Jula!"

Pretty irresistable, no?

Well, yesterday morning, she slept later, so everyone was gone to school by the time I heard her calling for me.

As I made my way up the stairs, I got a whif of something. Something not good.

Upon opening the door to her room, the smell hit me, like a ton of garbage, or manure. Bricks would have been a welcome alternative.

When I saw her in her crib, covered in goo, I asked "Oh, no. Did you throw up?"

(Warning: if you are at all squeamish about body fluids, you should stop reading here.)

Don't say I didn't warn you.

With closer inspection, I discovered that it was in fact, POO. EVERYWHERE.

The Child (note the change to The Child instead of my usual gushing words when referencing Nora) had in fact removed her diaper, and THEN pooped everywhere. (She's been taking off her diaper lately, but nothing prepared me for this!)

And then if pooping in her crib without her diaper were not enough, somehow she rolled in it so that it was covering the front of her nightgown and laying thickly in her hair.

Eew. Gag. Gross.

Let me just say right here, it was a good thing I wasn't pregnant or there would have been a whole new mess to deal with on top of the poo.

Moving on.

So I proceeded to start a bath, gently try and get the poopy nightgown off of her without smearing it on her face, and attempt to wash poo out of my darling daughter's hair.

I washed and washed and washed. After what I thought was an adequate amount of sudsing, I wrapped her in her towel, slathered her with lavendar lotion, put baby powder on her bum, and sent her to play, somewhere else.

I tackled the sheets and crib the way anyone should. I held my breath.

I wanted to close my eyes while I delivered the contents of her quilt into the depths of the toilet. But I didn't. That would have made things worse I think.

I then proceeded to throw everything else, not away if that's what you're thinking, we're in a recession people!

No, I put it all in my brand new, never been pooped in washer, set it to super cleanse, added some bleach and hoped for the best.

When it was done washing, I washed it again, just to make sure.

So at this point, everything and everyone is clean, scrubbed and scoured.

But as I go to pick up Nora, with her cute pony tails and baby blonde hair, I whif what can only be leftover poop smell on her hair, or in my nose. I couldn't tell.

So more bathing and lavendar lotion became necessary. Dang it.

So these were the thoughts that went through my head as I began adding size 2 undies to Nora's dresser drawer. Cuz a kid who takes off her diaper is probably ready for the potty. Right?

Well as I was adding the undergarments in with her socks and jammies, I decided to weed out the items that were too small.

And then, that's when it hit me. And hit me hard.

My baby, is no longer a baby. I'm contemplating potty training, getting rid of size 18-24 month clothes, and watching as she talks and plays like the big kids.

I sat down right on her floor and started to cry. And I continued to cry as I rocked and cuddled her before bed.

Not the body wracking sobs that I experienced when she got her first tooth, but melancholy tears, bittersweet tears that come as you realize that time is marching on, and you can do nothing to stop it. Nor would you if you could.

Because as much as I love my children, as much as I cherish Nora as the baby of this family, and as much as I will always miss every phase of their precious lives, poop and all, I will also cherish getting to watch them grow, and become whoever they are going to be.


And I can guarantee, it will be worth it.

13

It started with homemade waffles, with real whipped cream and strawberries, and then moved on to the next best thing: volleyball. (far left, that's Kate)

Cheered on by grandparents, aunts, parents, siblings, and cousins. (we took up a HUGE section of the bleachers-thank you family-you ROCK!).

Then it moved on to taco soup (a personal favorite of the 13 year old) then presents, surrounded by excited siblings and cousins.

I love that the boys are always so interested in what girls get.

It ended with the most ginormous chocolate cake ever. Singing of happy birthday, and one tired girl at the end of it all.

Kate is 13. Unbelievable, amazing, how-did-it-go-by-so-fast, 13.

Kate continues to astound us with her sweet disposition, kindness towards others, and willingness to help and obey.

I don't make these things up, she really is an awesome girl.

10 things we love about Kate:

1.She laughs easily and smiles all the time.

2.She is sweet and kind, but she knows what's right and will stand up for it.

3.She is second mama around here. Not because I have intentionally made her that way, but I think because she truly loves her littlest brother and sister and loves that they come to her when they need something.

4.She babysits without complaining, even when I don't pay her.

5.She now eats more than the granola bars and peanut butter sandwiches that she lived on til she was 8. (translation, she eats what I cook for dinner)

6.She tries things even if it is out of her comfort zone. (good things, Mikey, good things)

7.She is an excellent student.

8.She has a growing testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

9.She dresses modestly all the time. She doesn't compromise her values or change them for others. (how many 13 year olds can you say that about?)

10.Every night she comes into our room and kisses us goodnight and hugs us. EVERY NIGHT!

-and bonus-she calls me mommy sometimes still. It makes me want to cry, I love it so much.

So there you have. The oldest of 6 kids, our first born, the girl we call Kate.

Happy Birthday darling girl. We all love you!

Angels

I have discovered something.
About angels.
I already knew that they existed and that they don't really have wings. (why would a heavenly being need wings to fly?)
And that they are God's messengers.

But what I rediscovered, is that they are among us. Not just the glowing, Heavenly kind, but the earthly kind-people who allow themselves to be used by our Heavenly Father to bless his children.

What I also learned is that they are not just random people, strangers that step in at the last moment. They are also people we know. People we take for granted, people we see all the time.

I have been hoping, dreamin and scheming about how to get a new washer and dryer. The set I had (see that, HAD) worked just fine. But it was the same size we've had since we had just two children. And I was sincerely grateful that it kept working, despite the HUGE work load it was required to handle. But I dreamt of only doing 5-6 loads a week instead of 12.

So I dreamt away, wanting Heavenly Father to answer the prayer I carried around in my heart for a new washer and dryer. Not knowing how it would happen, or if it would happen.

Then I got the phone call.

Mom-"Are you sitting down? I have something to tell you."
Me-"What?!" (thinking, who died, who is sick, what's wrong?"
Mom-"Your dad and I just bought you and your sister new super capacity washers and dryers."
Clunk. that was me hitting the floor. Ok, not really. But I really did have to sit down. And then I stammered my confused reply.
Me-"Are you dying?" "Wait, am I dying?"
Mom-"No, you're not dying. We just felt like we should do this for you."

My sister's dryer had died the day before. Completely, to the appliance graveyard, dead.
And mine was begging for mercy.

But still. Who does that? Who buys their children new washers and dryers for no reason?

At first, I was confused, not bothered, but not sure how to handle it.

It took me a while to realize that it was a beautiful thing that had happened. Heavenly Father used my parents to bless my sister and I. Maybe you say, "Well, that's cuz your spoiled." or "Must be nice to get what you want." And I say, yes. It is nice to be spoiled and get what I want. But it's even nicer to realize that Heavenly Father knows our needs. But that it requires faith on our part and believing that He will bless us. And it requires someone listening to that inspiration to act as an angel in our life. You don't have to believe me. You can call it coincidence, parents-who-give -their-children-too-much-itis, whatever.

But the very next day, Jeff's mom called and offered us her washer, knowing that we needed something that worked better. Do you really think it's a coincidence that they both made such offers in less than 24 hours?

I believe in miracles.

I used to believe that if my parents helped me or Jeff's parents helped us, it was just because they are our parents, they have to do that kind of thing. That it was only other people who were sent as an answer to my prayers.

How wrong I was.

Last Monday, my parents were here for piano lessons. I had created kind of a hectic day for myself, and it was showing as I stood dejectedly in front of the pantry trying to think of what to make for dinner.

My dad said to me "Amy, you seem like you've had the kind of day where you need me to buy pizza for everyone".

I almost cried. I didn't need him to financially. I could have bought my own pizza. But I needed someone to validate my weariness and fatigue from being a stay at home mom of 6 children. And by offering to buy pizza he told me that my sacrifice was noted and appreciated.

Then Jeff's dad emailed a few days after that and said they would come watch the kids overnight for us so that Jeff and I could get away.

More answers to prayer.

My dad expressed to me that no one ever helped him with anything. He had to do everything his whole life. And so he wanted to make sure that wasn't the case for us. And I know that Jeff's dad's life was very similiar. They had it rough, and they didn't want that for their kids.

And I am so thankful for that element they brought to their parenting.
And I used to think that maybe they did us a disservice by helping us so much. (sorry Moms and Dads)

But I realize now that Heavenly Father knew we would have other trials to educate us and help us grow, and that our parents had overcome certain difficulties so that their children wouldn't have the same struggles in life. They changed the future of their posterity. And I am so grateful.

So don't discount the people in your life who are on errands to bless and improve your life. Accept the gift, show gratitude for it. And then be an angel for someone else, be an answer to someone's prayer.


And if for you, being an angel means bringing a washer and dryer, may I suggest the Whirlpool Cabrio?

I am in love.

Notice anything different about my laundry room? Besides the gorgeous new washer and dryer? It could be I'm giving you a sneak peek of what HomeMade Simple made for us. Here is a comparison, just to help you figure it out.

I am awaiting the correction of some technical difficulties. (translation:I'm waiting for my camera battery to charge so that I can download my pictures.)

So check back around noon for my Monday post:Angels

Left

About a month ago, Jeff got 5 of the kids into the car after church while I waited for Kate.

At some point after they were all piled in, Anne Marie got out to go use the bathroom unbeknownst to Jeff.

Jeff then proceeded to pull around to the front entrance of the chapel and wait for Kate and I.

When I saw the van waiting in a different spot than where we had parked, I naturally assumed that everyone was in the van.

I should have done a head count then. But I didn't even look in the back, I just began to talk to Jeff about church.

About a mile down the road, Henry called my name so I turned to talk to him.

It was at this point that I realized immediately that Anne Marie wasn't there.

Me to Jeff "Where's Anne Marie?"

Jeff to me "Uhhhh. She was there."

So we promptly turned around and headed back to the church.

As we got closer we could see someone at the tall iron fence that lines the property.

Yup, it was Anne Marie. Sobbing.

Of course at this point we feel about as low as a person can feel.

We parked, she found us, and everyone who wasn't buckled into a car seat jumped from the van to embrace her and tell her how much we love her.

She cried for a little while longer. We apologized over and over. Told her we didn't mean to, that we loved her and that we would always come find her if she got lost.

It was a bit traumatic for all of us, but the rest of the day went smoothly and she never brought it up again after that day.

So I thought she was over it.

Well, she wasn't.

Last week we went to curriculum night at the elementary and upon visiting Anne Marie's classroom, her teacher showed us what the kids had been working on. One item was where she would ask them about a change in their life, something big or that had been hard.

On a litle post it note Anne Marie had written "My mom left me".

Awesome.

So we talked to the teacher about it, explained what had happened and all had a nice little chuckle.

But then she said "You should go look at the picture she drew about it."

Wait. What?


That is Anne Marie standing at the fence at church.

And the funny thing is, it was really Jeff who left her. Not me. I'm the one who noticed she wasn't in the car. But she will always remember it the other way. The way in which I'm the type of parent who forgets my kids.

Which I don't. Usually.

But all's well that end's well. Right?

RIGHT?!

Go,go, get'm, get'm, go go get'm get'm,

Go!

(clap clap, clap clap!),

Go Get'm!

(clap clap, clap clap!)

Bump, set, spike

Congratulations to Kate for making the volleyball team.

It takes a lot of guts to try out for something. And to wear spandex.