At the end of the day

At the end of the day I am tired and usually at the end of my rope-- patience is running low, children are cranky and uncooperative, dishes are piled up in the sink, and often Lawrence isn't home to help (managing retail often calls for unfortunate working hours).  But, somehow this is my favorite time of the day.

Mr. E Starts by picking up his toys while I pick up after Baby J.  Then the real battle begins, it's a fight to get him to go potty, a fight to get him up to his room, a fight to get him to take his clothes off, pick pajamas, etc., etc.  Sometimes I get a little short with him while we battle about these rather insignificant details, but after the battle comes the part that always makes up for it.  After Mr. E has taken care of his hygiene, changed into jammies, and has settled down a little from the day we sit in a rocking chair and read a story.  This is our time-- just Mommy and Mr. E.  Usually we read Curious George, sometimes it's a Junior story, or something else.  He snuggles his little red head into my shoulder, grabs a fistful of hair, and we read.  I often stop to ask about colors, shapes, numbers, animals, or other details (mostly in the pictures).  He answers my questions and also points out details he likes, as well as asks questions.  After his story Mr. E says his prayer, then crawls jumps into his stuffed animal filled bed.  Then we sing.  He gets 5 songs.  Nearly every night he chooses "I am a Child of God," "I Often go Walking," "Families Can be Together Forever," and some theme song from "Phineas and Ferb," there's rarely any variation.  Sometimes he sings along, but most the time he is content to let me do all the singing.  The last part of the night is even better than the rest of it combined.  This is when Mr. E climbs into my lap, wraps his arms around my neck and I sing "A Bushel and a Peck."  He gives me  an excellent hug, a kiss (on the lips), Tells me that he loves me, then climbs back into his bed as I turn out the light.

Once Mr. E is read to, sung to, and "in bed" it's Baby J's turn.  He doesn't put up a fight (yet).  He gets a new diaper, jammies, and some warm milk, then I also read to him.  His stories are much shorter and he doesn't hold still as well, but he also tends to grab a fistful of hair.  There are no questions and answers-- instead there's wrestling the book away from grabby hands that just want to pull it into his mouth.  Then we sing too.  Baby J only gets one or two songs and, you guessed it, "Bushel and a Peck" is always on the list.  We rock, snuggle, and I sing into his ear (which often makes him giggle),   then I kiss him about a dozen times, put him in his bed, and turn out the light.

Some nights I cry.  Every night I revel in the fact that I have been blessed with another day with these sweet, rambunctious, and smart boys.  Every night I take time to thank my Father in Heaven for the blessing of my boys and of the day we have had, and to ask for more days to spend with my Mr. E and Baby J.  I treasure this time I get to spend, one on one with each of my boys.  I am reminded of how special they are and this is the perfect ending to each of my not so perfect days.  No matter how frustrating, busy, productive or unproductive the day, at the end of it I am always grateful that it happened.

My Nemesis

The stairs...

Anyone who knows me knows that I have a bit of a clumsy streak.  I blame this on genetics.  Stairs and I have never been the best of friends.  I fall down them, trip up them, and otherwise don't always get along with them.  Why this didn't cross my mind when we were looking at (and purchasing) a house I'm not sure, because things might have gone a little differently had I thought about my never ending conflict with stairs.  But it didn't really cross my mind and we purchased a house with a lot of stairs.  Don't get me wrong, I love our house, and I love our ward and neighbors even more-- I just have a love/hate relationship with stairs... all of them.

About a month ago I was carrying a pack and play down the stairs and took a wrong step, on the second step down.  I took a not so nice bouncy ride down the stairs and found myself bruised and walking funny for a few days.  To be honest, I feel lucky that it took me so long, while living in our house, to take such a tumble down the stairs.  I was also feeling lucky that I wasn't carrying Baby J at the time.

Last Friday (Aug. 15) I had another encounter with the stairs that did not end quite as well.  I was doing something that wasn't so smart.  I was trying to get some things cleaned and organized and in the process I had found several items that needed to go to the basement.  I didn't want to make a whole bunch of trips up and down the stairs so I was stacking stuff on the top step to the basement.  As I did so I leaned over the baby gate at the top of the stairs.  I thought to myself that I shouldn't be leaning over the gate like I was.  Just as that thought left my mind, said baby gate gave way and I went with it, head first, down the stairs.  Baby J and Mr. E were playing contentedly in the family room, so neither of them were in danger of getting hurt or coming along for the ride.  About half-way down I heard a lovely snap and before I knew it I was in a painful heap at the bottom of the stairs.  A quick self assessment told me that my head and neck were both fine and that the snap had come from my right arm.  I sat myself up, let loose a scream or two and gingerly placed my obviously broken right arm on my lap.  I found my phone a few steps up as Mr. E made his way down the debris littered stairs to me.  "Mommy, you fell.  Mommy, are you ok?  Mommy, you're crying..."  Yes, yes, yes...  My possessed phone was refusing to make an outgoing call.  I shut it off, "Mommy, your phone died."  Turned my phone back on and hefted myself to my feet with another scream.  Got to the top of the stairs and on the floor near Baby J, phone finally rebooted.  Try to call Mom, no answer, great.  Dad, no answer, shoot.  Try to call Lawrence at work, call is interrupted by Dad returning my call, possessed phone freaks out, hang up.  Dad calls back, "I fell down the stairs and broke my arm come take me to the ER."  Hang up, call Lawrence.  He feels helpless, tells me to call Sarah.  Call Sarah, she comes right over.  Meanwhile Baby J is upset because I'm upset so I somehow finagled him onto my lap.  Sarah made it over with another neighbor hot on her heels.  Sarah took J and started getting him food, second neighbor got E's swim trunks and took him to Sarah's house where there was a party going on, complete with a water slide.  Then the husbands showed up, and they gave me a blessing.  This helped calm me some.  Finally Mom and Dad showed up.  Mom took me to the ER, dad stayed with the kids.  Then it got boring.

We waited for an X-ray to tell us how bad the break was and if it would need surgery or could just be set.  Then we waited for the orthopedic doctor to come set it.  Some time during the waiting Lawrence got an employee to come in so he could leave work and be with me.  Then Mom got a call asking where my baking soda was, my youngest brother had been stung by a wasp, three times...  Mom left to attend to swelling post stings.  The orthopedist finally came with a team of doctors to put me out while he set my arm.  According to Lawrence I kept telling Mr. E to get off me, that he was hurting me, during the procedure.  They set the bone, splinted my arm and we waited some more, this time for the sleepy drugs to wear off and for the doctor to discharge me.  We didn't get home until 1 am...

On Monday I went back for more X-rays to see if the bone had shifted and to cast my arm.  Fortunately it was a clean break, it set well, and didn't shift, so I didn't need surgery!

Lesson learned, don't lean over baby gates.  I can laugh at it all now, so you can too.

Laughing through the tears

I know that I recently posted about this not so little guy, but I feel like I can't say enough how grateful I am that I have him.

When we decided to start having kids we planned that they would be spaced 2-3 years apart.  We both liked that this spacing would allow us time to enjoy each child and their unique selves.  But when Ethne was only about 10 months old (or so) our plans changed.  At the time we were living just a block or so down the street from the Rexburg temple and so we took advantage of this proximity by going once a week for a month while we were between school semesters.  Every time I go to the temple I try to pay attention to what is being said and usually one or two things will stand out to me.  Every time that month things about multiplying and replenishing the earth, joy in posterity, etc. stood out to me.  It almost felt like it was being screamed at me.  So I brought it up.  Lawrence wasn't necessarily feeling the same way, but we decided that we would just stop preventing it and let the chips fall where they may.  4 weeks later we had our answer.

It was a scary prospect, since I was planning to student teach Jan.-Apr. and would be pregnant through it, but it seemed that it was meant to be.  It was also a little scary to think that we would have kids about 20 months apart, but my parents did it and we didn't hate each other, so we knew it could work.

The pregnancy started out a little scary, but progressed much like Ethne's pregnancy had; no morning sickness, some tiredness, but overall I felt pretty good.  Doctor visits started a little late because we moved to Utah, but things were still going well.  I started student teaching and that went well too.  I was working with a great teacher and great kids.  Then the student teaching came to an end and all I had to do was wait for our little man to make his debut.

He was happy from day one.  A good baby who was almost always smiling and rarely cried.  He ate well, slept well, and his sister absolutely adored him.  Then I had to go back to work, things were tight and a part-time job presented itself.  My mom babysat for free, another blessing.








Then the accident happened and for a moment i was afraid I had lost him too.  But then he came to my hospital room, all smiles, and trying to pull tubes out of mommy.  My ray of sunshine!  He spent as much time as he could with me, especially after they took out all my iv's an oxygen.  He'd sit still while i snuggled him, and even take naps with me.  When I wasn't supposed to pick him up he would pull himself up on the furniture just to be closer to me and give me a sweet smile.  Even now he helps me smile through the tears with his crazy antics, dizzy dancing, sweet singing, and contagious laughter.  He is always ready with a smile just for me and I am so thankful for it.

I am thankful that I listened to promptings and didn't wait for him.  I am thankful that he was hardly hurt in the accident.  I am thankful for the wonderful helper he tries to be.  I am thankful for the wonderful big brother he is going to be.  And most of all I am thankful that he helps me smile through the tears.

Making Wishes

Our back yard is covered with dandelions.  I like to think that Ethne sent them just for me (even though the logical side of my brain knows it probably has more to do with the little girls who lived here before. We had the yard power raked and I was afraid that it would kill all the dandelions, but a then next day they started popping right back up.

Today I was out in the yard with Edward and I showed him how to make wishes by blowing the fluff off.  He wasn't really interested in what I wanted to show him and I thought he hadn't watched, but the next thing I knew he was picking up fluffy dandelions and trying to blow them.  He would hold them at arm's length and blow his little heart out, confused that it wasn't working.  I would try to help him, but he would give me a dirty look and keep doing it his way, then tear the little weed to pieces.

When he gives me looks like this he reminds me of Ethne.  She loved blowing dandelions.  She loved flowers, butterflies, dresses, and everything girly.  Edward is a whole new adventure.  He is such a boy.  So busy, loves cars, balls, and climbing.  I love my little boy.  He is so perfect.  But I miss Ethne and I miss her girly-ness.  So I am making wishes that I will have girly again, just as Edward is surely wishing for more dirt, balls, and cars.

"For just as the swan's last song is the sweetest of its life, so loss is made endurable by love and it is love that will echo through eternity."  ~ Call the Midwife