Got Milk?

(Make sure to read the next two posts to see the rest of the family pictures.)

I have been absent from blogging while we packed and moved. We are successfully moved into Taylor's sister's house. I have four boxes left, and I'm leaving them for Taylor who has been absent for almost 48 hours, working for 24 of them. We fit well here. The kids are sharing a room, and surprisingly they like it. There are new hide and seek positions here, as well as a friend next door for Claire. This hasn't really happened before, and Kyle was very concerned today that I would just leave Claire with the neighbors.

We (obviously) cleaned out the fridge and freezer to make our move. I had hoped to take on that chore myself, but forgot about that hope. I was a little mortified to notice that my last bottle of breastmilk had made it from my own freezer and was now unfrozen and sitting in Whitney's fridge (sorry Rob, I know that must traumatize you to read that, if you read that). I had planned to sneakily stow it away. But there it sat in a baggy, separated and gross-looking. Kyle quit breastfeeding almost a year ago. I know for sure that milk of any sort doesn't last for a year (and really, I have no idea how old the bottle really was). I wasn't planning to use it. At this point I had no choice but to pour it down the drain, but it was a hard thing to do. As I stood there with it in my hand, contemplating it's future, I couldn't help but wonder why I had kept it in the first place.

That little bottle contained proof that I had an infant in my home. Letting go of it means that Kyle really isn't a baby anymore. He's practically two by all means!
I decided that it was my trophy---tactile evidence of nights and days spent suckling. I've read of the merits of breastfeeding dozens of times. I praise the act for the how it eats away at my fat cells while I eat away at cookies for a year. All of that nurturing brain cells and fat burning is well and good, but really, I choose to breastfeed because it makes me feel innately woman (and not because it increases my bra size substantially). I just like thinking that it's the way it's always been for women and their babies. It feels like a link to my past and a gift to my future. I like being pregnant for the same reason---it makes me feel there is an unbroken chain to the women who came before me.

Before we moved I had to tell Claire that our "home" is not walls and closets and counters; home is where our family is. I guess the same applies to me. The evidence of my "working breasts" (to quote Everybody Love Raymond) is not necessarily a half-full bottle in the freezer, it's in the thighs and chubby cheeks of my children.

And there will be more babies in good time. And more milk. I wonder how long I'll hold on to the last last one.

10 Years...

I survived my 10 year high school reunion. It wasn't too bad; in fact, I don't know why people stress about them. I basically went with some friends, we sat with more friends, and people watched everyone else. It was funny to see how everyone was still grouped into the same groups. I noticed a few friends who had obviously had a falling out. It was interesting.

All in all, it made me just that much gladder for the life I have. I think of the things I hoped for, the boys I worried so much about, and the girls I only dreamed of being friends with---and I see how things turned out so much better. It made me laugh to think how important some of those things seemed. My life during the last 10 years has been so blessed. My husband is wonderful---more than I could have asked for. And my kids were the cutest there by far (maybe I'm biased...). Garth Brooks's song "Unanswered Prayers" comes to mind. I am so grateful that God has a plan for us...and that he makes it happen no matter how hard we try to screw it up!

After the reunion I met up with three friends for ice cream at Los Hermanos (we ate there constantly in high school). We had a great time and laughed so much reminiscing. Nothing like looking back to see how far we've come.

Can't wait to see where we are in ten more years.

Here's the group (Claire wouldn't let go):

She does like me

I'm never sure how Claire really feels about me. Whenever I give her a decision to make she inevitably will choose the option I would not have chosen. "She hates me" often runs through my head at times like that.

Well, Taylors WONDERFUL parents took our kids from last Friday night to Sunday afternoon. (Thanks again!). We met up with them at Rob and Whitney's church. Claire bounced in happily aiming her smiles and hugs at her dad, but was sidelined when she crossed me path. In one movement she planted her self on me, sobbing the word "Momma!" over and over. I honestly thought she was disappointed to see me because I would take her home (She had actually expressed this exact sentiment that morning to her grandparents). After calming her down a few minutes later (and after Sacrament meeting started) she was able to choke out that she was crying because she missed ME! This is new to me. She wouldn't leave my lap for the remainder of the meeting. And although she bravely attended a new Sunbeam class, the same thing happened again as soon as I picked her up from Primary. "Momma!" and more tears. It was wonderful. I am loved.

Puppy, by the way, didn't seem to care either way. And to think that he was the one I was worried about!

We did have a great time without kids though. We went to a movie (Angels and Demons), a first for our time in Logan. We went furniture shopping. We hit a record amount of stores without having to chase children and strap them in and out at every stop. We went to a few jewelry stores looking to get our rings dipped and cleaned (7 years later, I think it's time!). We decided it was time to upgrade my diamond (something that was always in the plans as soon as school was over), so that's always good news! Pictures will certainly follow as soon as it is returned.

We also slept in (oh the peace of waking at your own time---for me it was 10:30). We borrowed a couple bikes and had a great ride. I was surprised that my legs didn't hurt the next day---but in other news I haven't been able to sit comfortably since then. If I ever ride a bike again I'm getting a fancy gel seat for sure.

Big thanks again to Taylor's parents for taking our kids. We loved the time off. Let's do it more often :)

Oh, and expect big news to be coming soon. Maybe as early as tomorrow.

Puppy

Kyle is the most wonderful little boy. I'm sure I've mentioned this. I think the two of us have a special little bond. We need each other to exist. He's my Pup. He's always following me around and give me random hugs and kisses. I like him. He likes me.

I was released from being Primary Secretary on Sunday. (The president moved.) But I still had one obligation to follow in doing music time in nursery. I'd never done it before, so I didn't know how Kyle would react. He was excited to see me, and I even convinced him to stay in his little chair. I had little boxes that had names of songs into them. I chose children to pick a box, and then we'd sing the designated song.

Ater four songs I happened to glance at Kyle. He was sitting there in his chair with huge tears in his eyes and running down his cheeks. I could just hear him thinking, "I KNOW Mom loves me, but why won't she pick me to pick a box?" His little heart was just breaking. So I asked him if he'd like to pick a box. With a little relief, and a voice that gave way to a little sob he ran up to the front, "Yeessss!" And then he stood next to me for the rest of the time: This is my mom. She loves me. She asked me to pick a box.

Happy (late) Pioneer Day!

I've already admitted to being a strong patriot, a true lover of the United States, but have I said how much I love Utah? I love Utah. I like the gathering of the Saints. I like the seasons. I like the scenery. I feel at home surrounded by mountains. I love the beauty of the red rocks almost as much as I like to see the jagged mountain tops of the Rockies. Best of all, I love that the 24th is a repeat of the 4th of July celebrations with fireworks and all.

We wanted to see the fireworks last night. Kyle was ornery so he went to sleep and Taylor graciously offered to stay home with him. I think I'm more of a celebrator anyways... Claire and I arrived at our chosen destination just before 9pm. We had some treats and generally hung out for an hour. We loved it. I love just being alone with Claire with nothing else to do. She has great stories and an even better imagination. We picked the PERFECT spot. The fireworks were huge and right above us. We made it to our car in about 3 minutes and waited less than five to travel at a normal rate of speed. We arrived home at around 10:40, so it was a great night.

We spent Thursday and Friday at Bear Lake (my first trip ever) with my family. We went 4-wheeling, our first time since we got married. We loved it. Even more we love that my father and siblings all love 4-wheeling, so we hope to continue to tag along in future years with their toys. We went to the lake Friday afternoon. It was super windy and cold. Not fun. But it looks like it would be fun if the weather was optimal. One of these days we'll head back.

We spent this morning wondering what was wrong with Taylor's car and why it wouldn't start. We just replaced the engine Wednesday, so naturally we're thrilled that it won't start. This afternoon we loaded up the kids and headed down to the Ogden area to check out some neighborhoods for possible home searching.

Kyle is turning out to be like me in the sleeping department (8pm-10am) and like Taylor in the playing department. Apparently this was a childhood favorite for Taylor:
Claire, on the other hand, has her father's sleeping habits (down anytime between 8pm and 2am and then up around 7:30am no matter what) and my playing habits (books, books, books, and babies).

More on motherhood and contentment

The moment I became a mother to Kyle, Claire also became a mother. I think the instinct is that strong. Something weak and helpless was placed before her, and even though she was just a little less weak and a little less helpless than he, she felt bound to nurture him as best she could.

I've been thinking about this part of the book Contentment by Maria Covey Cole. I wanted to share it:

"I sometimes wonder if my children know from my example and expressions that it is such a joy to be a mother. Or, rather, do they view motherhood as difficult and mundane? What attitudes about motherhood am I creating in my home? If my children observe my selfless actions and attitude, it is likely that they too will become selfless. Conversely, if they observe selfishness, then they too may become selfish. What will be the legacy that I bequeath to my children?

"In a recent conversation I had with Lynn, a mother of eleven grown children, she expressed regret that while raising her children she ahd not articulated her feelings about motherhood often enough. She told me that she had loved being a mother and had always felt happy and fulfilled in her role, yet she was so busy keeping up with life and getting through the years that she had never really taken the time to make a point of it. She now feels distressed that her daughters, who have recently become mothers themselves, seem unhappy and discontent. She wishes that when her girls were younger she had been more verbal in expressing to them the significance of motherhood and the joy she experienced in being a mother.

"We...find comfort in a statement made by Dag Hammarskjold, an international diplomat who served for eight years as the secretary-general of the United Nations. At the conclusion of a lifetime of service to his fellow men, he shared this profound insight: "It is more noble to give yourself completely to one individual than to labor diligently for the salvation of the masses."

I like that idea. Ever since I read it I have tried to not only tell Claire and Kyle that I love them, but that I love being their Mommy. I gauge my efforts in mothering by what Claire responds when asked what she'd like to be when she grows up. If "A Mommy!" is her first answer in her list, I feel like I'm doing my job.

I also like the last paragraph. It reminds me of an article in last month's (I think last month's) Ensign. A woman stated how she felt overwhelmed by the scripture that we should feed the hungry, comfort the sick, clothe the naked, etc. She was upset that with her busy life as a mother of young children she had no time to serve her fellowmen. Then she realized that in that day alone she had fed her hungry children, clothed her naked children, and taken care of one that was sick. She realized that what God asked of her in service to her fellowmen was in actuality the work she did every day as a mother.

I may complain a little (and sometimes a lot), but I am grateful to be a mother, and to serve my family. I still have a lot to learn, but I think we are slowly becoming what we ought to be. Claire is playing right now, mothering her babies. And my kitchen is clean, so I guess we're doing okay.

Thanks...and random musings.

I've had a good amount of you offer to accept the sister position. I'm thrilled with the response. The best part is that as soon as we move a little closer to civilization, I'll be able to take you all up on it. I definitely intend to do more things with my "sisters" as soon as we move.

In a way it seems like so many of the things that I deem to be the "problems" in my life will be solved when we move. I wonder if this is really the case, or if I'm just putting a bunch of "I'll be happy whens..." to the test. But really, closer to friends and family, a full-time salary, and a home with space to store things and a place to put my sewing machine. These are all on my "when" list. And matching nightstands...but who knows when that will happen.

Really, though, Cache Valley has been a blessing. Cache literally means "hiding place," and it has really been that for me. These last two years have been unbelievably painful for me. I've been on an emotional roller coaster since we moved here. In our first few months here we lost a great salary, lost great insurance benefits, started a Master's program, had a baby, I had my eye removed, and got the devastating news that it didn't go as planned. It was all a little overwhelming for me. And to do it all with pregnancy hormones and postpartum hormones topped it all off.

It's been nice to be able to hide our here while I put myself back together. I think I'll be leaving here the "self" that most of you know me as. (And for those of you who know me only as my Cache Valley self: I'm sorry. I'm usually a lot more fun, put together, helpful, useful, happy, intelligent, etc.) My 6 months of daily migraines caused by eye inflamation only added to my weirdness. I'm just starting to finally feel life flowing through me again (and no, that's not a way of saying I'm pregnant. I won't be for a while!)

It's been a rough road. After I got my first horrible prosthetic I spent days (okay, weeks) feeling sorry for myself on the couch, pausing only to nurse and change diapers. I am so grateful to my husband who did laundry, cooked, cleaned, shopped, and took on childcare in addition to his demanding school and work schedule. The migraines have been gone for a year now, and I am grateful every day to have my life back. Although I still get them once or twice a month, they are just a reminder of how much better my life is now.

And we survived. We even made some great memories and great friends. I'll always be grateful that we were here and had the experiences we did. We have learned so much and grown immensely as a family and as individuals. We will leave here stronger,with more faith, and with more conviction to our beliefs that ever before. And we'll leave here with Kyle and with a bigger better version of Claire. Even though Kyle continues to yell all day, and Claire started spitting on the floor at Joann the other day, they are the biggest and most wonderful blessings of all. My cup overfloweth.

Kyle is crazy

We took kyle to the doctor yesterday. He could find no physical reason for the food crankiness. I'm glad that Taylor's a family therapist so we could just point to that and stop the talk about "Have you tried..." and "Maybe it's a power thing..." Because it's not a lack of our trying things, and it's not him being a bum. Anyway, we thought we'd try something for acid reflux to see if that makes him happier.

And of course the second we got home he drank an entire cup of milk and ate tons of mac and cheese. It was kind of a, "Gosh, guys. If it matters to you so much that you take me to the doctor, I guess I'll eat."

And he's back to the screaming today. It's so fun. The medicine takes a week to work; I'm counting the days.

On the verge of losing it

Kyle has been ornery since April. Before April he was 95% happy. Now every time we sit down to eat a meal he screams. For an hour. No Mommy! No Mommy! This is breakfast:

Me (as pleasantly as possible): "Kyle, should we go have some food?"
Kyle: Yeah!
Then I carry him to his chair and it starts. "No Mommy! No Mommy!"
I strap him and show him a banana. He says "Yeah!"
I start to cut the banana on his tray. "No Mommy! No Mommy!"
He throws it off the tray. I pick it up.
I show him a box of cereal. "Want this buddy?"
"Yeah!"
I walk toward him, box in hand.
"No Mommy! No Mommy!"
Repeat with three boxes.
Dump whatever the last box was despite protests.
Kyle: "Ba ba!"
I show him a number of sippy cups before he settles on one.
I get the milk out, he shouts, "Yeah!"
I bring him the cup.
"No Mommy! No Mommy!"
He throws it on the floor.
I get frustrated. "What do you want bud?"
"I need a cracker!"

So this happens at every meal for once. We don't always give in to the graham cracker asking, but we do before bed because we don't want to send him to bed hungry. Kyle has always been a perfect eater. He even tries all new things, just refuses them after the first bite.

I called the doctor to complain about this only eating graham cracker stuff. The nurse told me to try withholding graham crackers. Um, gee, she obviously went to school to come up with that answer. I think he has acid reflux. He did as an infant terribly. He freaks out about eating lately, and that used to be his favorite thing. So he has an appointment tomorrow, because if we don't figure this out I will lose my sanity. After three months of yelling at every meal (and withholding graham crackers), I hope we get some answers tomorrow.

The Real World

Before I start the Real World story, here's Claire doing sparklers for the first time ever. Ghostly picture of her; cool picture of the sparklers.

And now for why I sat down to blog:
We just had a really nice evening with our neighbors to the south watching fireworks and chatting while the kids played on the swingset (We always make friends just as we're going to move; we need to make more of an effort next time). Anyway, it was a fun night (except for the mosquitoes), but when we got in and were getting Claire ready for bed she was insistent on changing her underwear (she's a morning changer). When we asked why she said it was because the 7-year-old neighbor boy "said I smelled bad and pooped my pants." Poor girl! She started crying, and the poor thing was checking her pants! She has never had anyone say anything mean to her, and try as we could we couldn't convince her that he was teasing or that her panties were fine. She believed what he said over her own knowledge that it hadn't happened. To make matters worse, Claire has NEVER ONCE pooped her pants. She's a perfect potty trained girl and has had no more than ten accidents ever, maybe 13 at the most. And she smells fine. Nice even. Her hair has a way of keeping the scent of conditioner for days. She smells great. Stupid boys.

And so we enter parenthood where we cannot protect our children from the cruel, cruel world. I don't like that. Claire has such a sensitive heart. I hope that she can stay that way in spite of boys who claim poopy pants.

Oh, and the thing that makes it worst of all was that she was wearing new Dora Princess panties today! He claimed that about her Princess Panties! In fact, this morning Taylor took Claire to the resthome for Sacrament Services, and one of the old ladies asked her how she was and her response was, "Great! I'm wearing new princess panties!" Stupid boys.

On a related note, and cause for repentance for us, the reason we haven't been as friendly as we should have to our neighbors is as follows: We moved here on August 25, 2007. We parked our moving truck in their parking lot. There was nowhere else to put it. About an hour into our move, the dad came out in a wife-beater and jeans and kind of rudely announced that the owners called and wanted the truck moved. We were offended at his "welcome" to the neighborhood and totally didn't believe that the owners even knew our truck was there. Come to find out (last month), the owners of his building live across the street. Oops. They probably did call. Our HUGE bad. We were upset for almost 2 years because of that. Lesson learned. Hopefully. On a side note, they had their Christmas tree up and lit on Easter. Is that weird? I totally took pictures. One with the normal setting, and one with a night setting. Christmas tree. On Easter. Oh, and all you who probably can figure out who I'm talking about---you better not rat me out. I'm sharing because I want to confess: to the hard feelings and the sneaky picture taking.That's all for now.