Sunday Snapshots

All kinds of crazy

Chaos is the score upon which reality is written.

-Henry Miller

Just in case you were under the impression that our house is calm and peaceful and perfect, it's not.  In fact, I think wild, loud and chaotic would fit the bill. 

I wish it weren't so, but with our bunch it's our life.  Sure we have six kids squished into one tiny house, a card table and folding chairs plus a piano bench for our dinning room setup and the big boys have shared a room since the beginning.  Our babies have never been great sleepers and I tend to like to do the fun things first on occasion (who doesn't!?).  It might be because I have yet to master the task of running a tight ship or following a schedule, and figuring out those things could drastically help, but when all is said and done we survive amongst the chaos.

Then there are those days when you are left thinking, wow.  We all need a vacation away from here.  Really.

Just when I think I've seen everything I have a day like Monday.  The day just hours after my weekend long birthday celebration.  Let's just say I said it more than once, "I'm so glad it's not my birthday today."  The honest truth.

Monday morning Rich woke up early and snuck off to work long before the rest of us started moving.  I was still in bed when the boys burst in and told me that Zach was awake.  I told them to just bring him into me.  Boys being boys didn't notice the stinky smell or the brownish spot in little Z's jammies.  After a long week of illness, a tiny bit still remained in the little fella.  They plopped him down on my bed and he crawled over to me.  The damage was done.  Everywhere he had been, there was a trail of yuck.  I promptly bathed the baby and washed all my bedding and his.  Pronto.

It was a cold and rainy day with occasional thunder clap.  Not a day fit for a zoo outing or museum.  I informed the boys we would be cleaning out their closet and drawers and the stash of clothes in the basement.  Matt told me we weren't moving for months.  I replied it will be here before we know it, so get started.  That didn't go over to well, but they did get sorting.  After an hour and a huge black garbage bag of discards they announced that this was their worst Presidents Day ever.  They thought it even more when I told them it was now time to practice the piano.

Trey and I had a battle of wills while he played and I'm not sure how he could properly read the music through his tears, but we did have a nice chat afterwards and peace was restored.

The girls played quietly upstairs while Zach napped, but really they were making a 'cake shop' out of ALL of their clippies and headbands.  Brynn dumped out all the micro-mini rubber bands and tossed them on the floor like sprinkles and they had drawn pictures on toilet paper with fingernail polish and markers.  Thankfully they were skilled with their drawings and not a drop of polish was spilled, but it was quite a colorful mess when I walked in on their little set up.

Later that night I was sharing my fun primary lesson about prophets for FHE.  We were discussing stories about President Joseph F. Smith's life while Zach sat on my lap.  Instead of grabbing the prophets pictures off the floor like he had done earlier, he got into the bag of Hershey's Kisses I was going to use on the matching game part and half choked/gagged on a piece of chocolate.  The next thing I know he's thrown up on himself  (post bath and jammies), my leg and carpet.  As I hollered to the bunch to grab a bowl, the rest of his dinner came up and we had a mess of lasagna, grapes and milk on him, me and the carpet.  Rich handed me a rag, cup, spoon (to scoop up the mess) and off he went to get the carpet cleaner and Spot Shot.

I scooted the kids up to bed while I cleaned myself and Zach up and we met up with Rich in the kitchen after he had cleaned the carpet and things were finally better.  Just as we started to talk about the day, Zach opened up a cupboard and all I saw was a glimmer of glass and an explosion like I'd never seen.  Somehow my square Pyrex baking dish fell from the upper shelf and literally blew up like a IED, shattering glass across a 15 foot span.  Zach was standing next to my feet and I scooped him up just as the glass broke and we walked away with just a few tiny cuts on our legs from the shards of flying glass.  Sweet Rich didn't miss a beat.  As I looked over Zach for any injury and pulled out the band aids for two tiny splotches of blood, Rich silently found the broom and started sweeping.

After a good while of sweeping and vacuuming and mopping the floor, it was deemed safe once again.

It was official, we had to get to bed ASAP before another disaster struck.

Zach did fall asleep (like at 11:30 PM), but at 3 AM he must have missed me because he started hollering my name.  I got to snuggle with him on the carpet next to his bed because 1) you can't let him cry it out in his crib or he WILL throw up 2) I don't dare bring him into our bed because he wiggles, wakes Rich up, makes it impossible for me to sleep and might fall off the bed and onto the wood floor and 3) I was way to tired to rock him and not fall asleep sitting in the chair.

The alarm sounded early for Rich and somehow, with the will power of a superhero, he turned off the buzzer and stood tall, ready to face another day with us and all the crazy he'd find at the hospital.

Are we crazy?  Yes.  Is Rich a saint?  Yes.  Are my kids sometimes like a destroying angel?  Yes.  Can I be a mean mom?  Yes.  Do we all need more sleep?  YES! (esp. Rich)  But we love each other through thick and thin and it gets us through the rough patches. 

One day will will look back and say, "Remember those crazy times?  Glad those are behind us."  Then we'll smile because we survied the choas together.  I guarentee that 100%.

Thirty-four

I don't really think it was a conscience decision, but birthdays have never bothered me.  Yes, I have yet to reach loftier, more impressive numbers and I did tell my crew that when I hit the big 4-0 we will be founding dining at the Carnation Plaza in Disneyland, for sure.  But for now, I really enjoy getting older.

I was excited to hit 30.  I had five kids and it seemed right to be past my twenties.

Every birthday has been a happy celebration, because my crew LOVES a good party.  Don't we all?

This year was no exception.  I mean, there's really not any difference between the number 33 and 34 in my opinion.

I also realized that Sunday is the absolute perfect day for a birthday.  You celebrate all weekend and can spend your real birthday together as a family.  And being Sunday and all, you don't even have to workout.  Love it!

I had a fabulous birthday.  The girls and I found a to-die-for cupcake beauty.  Rich and the kids strung crate paper around the kitchen like pros and Stouffer's cooked us up a fantastic Sunday feast. 

I have to give props to the ward program person because they listed the ward members birthdays and I felt like a rock star when everyone was wishing me a Happy Birthday when they were leaving Sacrament Meeting.  I never saw it since Zach and I were bonding in the hallway. 

Primary is the best at birthdays.  My old class hugged my legs when I walked in and they let me drag Brynn and Kaitlyn up with me when I was the lone birthday girl to be sung to. 

Our home teachers dropped by (for a scheduled) visit and they shared a powerful message about music, which was really lovely.  My V.T. dropped off cupcakes and the phone rang off the hook and the text message and emails kept pouring in. 

The kids helped Rich wrap up my stash of goodies (complete with Webkinz things I bought for myself....). 

The kids faces might not be the same after the scary amounts of bright frosting they consumed and I loved every shirt Rich, along with Josh and Trey, picked out for me.  What taste. 

I am so blessed to have an incredible family.  I have a husband I adore, kids that are my joy and parents, in-laws I am in awe of and couldn't live without, siblings/SILs/their wives that I love to pieces and friends that I am lucky to call my 'sisters'. 

I felt so loved.

Thanks for the fabulous day, from the bottom of my heart.



Sunday Snapshots

One day

It was dark and still inside the house.  I stopped waving goodbye and carefully closed the door as Rich's tail lights disappeared from view.  His early exits each morning happen hours before the kids are moving.  As I carefully crept up the stairs to return to my comfortable bed, I peeked in on each of the kids' room as they slept.  I could hear their deep breaths in and out.

As I snuggled into my pillows waiting for Rich to call me to say he got to the hospital, the thoughts of my children lingered in my mind.  Then as if a fiery dart pierced my heart, one thing seemed to scream out to me in the darkness.  The cold, hard fact that these days with little ones are not forever and no matter how hard I try, they will and are growing up.

One day my house will stay clean for longer than twenty minutes, but I really will miss those scattered crayons and coloring books that clutter the counter.

One day I will not run at least three loads of laundry daily, but I'll desperately want to find those tiny white undershirts and bright pink leggings mixed in with the towels and jeans.

One day I will cook a huge meal and those kids who do not want to eat what I made will no longer eat at my dinner table every night.  There will be far too many leftovers for just the two of us.

One day my fridge door won't be littered with colorful drawings, sweet notes and lunch menus.  It will be white and clean and boring.

One day I won't be going over spelling lists, test review sheets and book orders and I imagine I'll try to recall how their face lit up as they discovered something new, or how their eyes shone with pride when they showed off a great test score. 

One day there won't be incessant dribbling in the front room and a pile of dirty shoes and socks by the front door.  I will long for the boom, boom, boom of a basketball bouncing on the driveway.

One day I won't have a shopping cart full of pop-tarts, juice boxes, fruit snacks and Go-gurts and I'll miss all the oohing and ahhing over the cool toys found in the cereal boxes.

One day I won't pin up hair into buns and help dress my little girls in their pink ballet outfits, and watch them twirl and bend and leap across my kitchen floor.

One day I'll get a good night of sleep, but I'm positive that there will be times when I'll suddenly wake up and wish there was sad face standing next to my bed that needed to be tucked in once again before heading back to dreamland.

One day my car radio won't be blasting The Little Mermaid and The Lion King and I won't be hearing Letter Factory from the car's DVD player, but I am sure I'll be humming those Disney tunes and Leap Frog rhymes wishing I had a little one to sing along with me.

One day I won't have inquisitive kids making me delve into deep discussions about life, for they will be the ones out there figuring it out themselves.

One day it won't be my little brother whom I write on his mission each week, it will be three Elder Jacksons out in the mission field that I'll send letters and packages to. (With a mini Elder Jackson worshiping and missing his three big brothers.)

One day I'll walk into a store alone and my hand will be lonely for those little fingers grasping mine as we hold hands through the parking lot.

One day I won't get to snuggle and cuddle and kiss a baby every night before bed. 

One day I won't be Mommy, just Mom.

I'll look back wishing for just one more night together.  A few more minutes with my kids at these precious ages.  One more night squished on the trundle bed reading Fancy Nancy or one more Family Home Evening when Jesus wants me for a Sunbeam is the song of choice.  One more morning when all my kids are tucked in their beds, under my roof, safe and sound. 

These thoughts break my heart and sting my eyes, but this how life works.  We move and grow and develop and change.  As much as it hurts to look forward, these reflections give me the resolve to be a better mother NOW.  To embrace today.  To sit on the floor and play.  To read that story when they ask.  To play that game we just hadn't gotten around to.  To talk, to listen, to really be there when they need me.

Life is busy.  Life is hard.  Sometimes I feel like I'm swamped with the day to day things and tasks, but it only takes a second of pondering my future so see the blessings of right now.  To soak in the joys of being a mother, even when it's difficult.  To know that when that 'one day' comes, that I can look back and know that every day was a blessing and I never took a second of it for granted.

Because 'one day' will be here far sooner than I could ever imagine.

Sixty-seven

it was one of those perfect early spring days

the sun was bright

a warm breeze blew
we hit a high of sixty-seven degrees, a near record

it begged for me to whip out my beloved flip flops

the neighborhood came alive

joggers, dog walkers, bike riders, rollerbladers

every three houses you could spy a mean game of horse or knock out on the driveway

teenagers slowly walked by in packs

Zach was in high heaven

that boy loves being outside more than anything else in the world

the girls rode their scooters and peddled their trike

the boys played basketball with their friends

Zach went up the ladder and down the slide forever

the girls built a secret house in the playhouse

and scrubbed the swings with a Mr. Clean Eraser

we snacked on apple slices and Pringles

we were coated in mud from head to toe

we stayed out until Rich came home and the sun was setting

spring finally found her way to Cincinnati

welcome

we were waiting

Heart Day Fun

Valentine's Day

Sunday Snapshots