"Mom! I wanted to be so helpful so I got Erick dressed in some of my pajamas!"

This newly found helpfulness is greatly appreciated by a Momma who is single parenting for two weeks while Husband is in Israel. I think it must have come with turning five. If you ask Scrunch, being five is the best- hands down better than four! For three straight mornings she has come into the kitchen and announced, "Say 'hello' to five year-old Scrunch!" with her arms out in "ta-da!" fashion. She has taken a special interest in making sure her brother is comfortable and well taken care of. She doles out snacks to Juju regularly and announces any time anyone needs a diaper change.

Juju and Mommy thank you.

And Porkchop's High School yearbook staff thanks you.

* Photo by Scrunch.

Scrunch gave her first prayer in Spanish yesterday. She even volunteered for it. I wanted to fist bump her and whoop, but then I'd be that Mom and I have plenty of years in front of me to be that Mom.

During an interview with the Stake a few weeks ago the couselor asked me my maiden name. I told him, and after a series of questions the next thing I know I'm saying, "Yes! We'd love to go to the Spanish Ward!" You didn't know I spoke Spanish did you? Our only reservation was that Porkchop hates nursery with a purple passion. Even if we go with him he stands at the door and says, "Me Go! We Go Home! Get out! Get me out!" So all week we prepared both kids that we were going to a new church where it was the same, but it would sound different. For the first time in our family's recorded history Porkchop went to nursery the entire time and without any tears. Done deal. I will be there bright and early with bells on!

I'm sure there will be growing pains for everyone- my vocabulary is a bit rusty but I was even surprised how much of it came back to me. Sitting in Sacrament meeting is a bit awkward because the congregation is so small and our kids are noisy and blonde. The blonde-ness is almost more distracting that the "Nack? Nack?" and "Where my Yon?" from Porkchop if Husband steps out for a minute. But the  people are so nice. So nice.

Yesterday a woman I've barely met once came up gave me a big hug and kiss on the cheek. "It's so good to see you! I'm so glad you're here." I almost fell over. Loved, welcomed, accepted at church? Weird. Good weird.

The Christmas card that wasn't.

I am sneaking in a post while it's still Friday. I'm also putting off practicing my violin. That high C is a killer and it's cramping my pinky. I picked up the violin again for the first time in almost fifteen years! It is beautiful. I can't wait till I can play a whole song that's not along the lines of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star or scales. Neither can my family.

Scrunch was intensely interested the first few practices and wanted to play. I told her she would need to practice a whole hour every day so maybe she should sit on the bench and listen to Mom practice. If she could do that, then she would know what a whole hour was. She lasted about eight minutes and then wandered away saying, "Maybe when I'm older Mom." My thoughts exactly.

Today she was pretending to be on the phone when I asked her to take her boots to the shoe bucket. She rolled her eyes in disgust and continued her pretend conversation with an, "Ugh! My mu-ther is making me do stuff." I didn't know whether to laugh or sit down and cry.

She and her brother were playing on my bed with the Pilates ball while I got ready in the bathroom. Someone (insert my own eye roll) thought it would be a good idea to wrap their arms around the ball and bounce off the bed and try to still land on the ball. Of course the initial experiment had to be tried out on her brother.  I could see them bouncing around out of the corner of my eye when I saw Porkchop take air and fly over the edge of the bed. Thankfully he landed straight down so hard that it flipped him immediately onto his back and not through the sliding glass door. He cried a little, but more out of frustration that it didn't work than anything else.

I re-told this story to my Mom and then ended our conversation with a "Well, have a good day. I've got to get these kids bathed and dressed and see if we can't avoid the emergency room for another day." And then not three minutes later I pulled Porkchop's jammies over his head and saw his arm. His left arm from shoulder to elbow was swollen, red, and hot to touch. The last eight years of nursing experience fell out of my head and I didn't even stop to assess the situation before I called Husband to come home. Porkchop was the one who reminded me that he was given an owie the other day and Kah-kah had one too. Oh, that's right. He went to the pediatrician. Apparently has an extreme sensitivity to his immunization. Good to know.

Squishy on the otherhand...what can I tell you about Squishy? She's the third so I'm not as vigilant about things as I might have been with the other two. Things like letting her chew on the bath toys. I happened to pick up a couple of her favorites while in the tub the other night. I have since thrown all the bath toys away. I am a mean mom, but that black mold can't be good for you. Her favorite game right now is 'Peek a boob'. While she is nursing she will unlatch and say, "Boo!" It only takes her about forty-five minutes to eat because she thinks she is so dang funny.

Alright, I have to go practice before it  becomes tomorrow. This post is starting to sound like a Christmas Card update anyway. While a little windy and squinty this picture pretty much sums it up. Scrunch is sassy, Porkchop's a ham, and Squishy just wants to know when her next meal is.

For as open and honest as I try to be on my blog, there are still those things I will likely never write about. They are either too raw to leave open for commentary, too personal to have spread about in thoughtless gossip, or just none of yer damn business. Until the dust settles it's going to seem (especially to me) that I'm just scratching the surface and covering the trivial when I write. I bring it up because there have been some glaringly obvious lessons I've learned and if I can prevent you from having to learn them the hard way, then I'll consider it a good deed I've done for the day.

There have been many times over the last several weeks that I've felt lonely, betrayed, plain pissed off, curious and questioning of my core beliefs...whatever. It's just been kinda h.a.r.d. Funny thing is that I've probably never seems more 'put together' either. My house is cleaner. I get showered, dressed, makeup on. Judge by looks and everything is fine. Better than fine even. Lesson- "Do not judge a book by it's cover." and "Be Kind. Everyone you meet is fighting a hard fight."

Several months ago I was fully consumed by the running of Crazytown. Taking care of your family and its accompanying responsibilities can be very isolating sometimes. I was kind of lonely so I prayed a silly, selfish prayer that God would send me a friend. And so maybe I prayed for my trials??? So I could better see the friends who were there all the time. Lesson- God is mindful of even our silliest prayers prayed while standing in the shower- the only quiet place you can hide out in.

I've never been so grateful for my eclectic and varied circle of friends who seem to know just what to say and when to say it. I've received funny texts, messages of support, generous gifts, encouragement, and even six packs of Dr. Pepper and ice cream. I love that I have a small and select group that will be even more pissed off than I am when wronged, who will say "I don't need to know the details, but you need to know that I love you",  "I am thinking about you." Who will open themselves up and say, "I want to be your friend." Isn't it so ironic that most of them don't know ALL the gory details, don't need to, and didn't even think they were doing anything special? They were just 'being a friend'. It is very awesome and has made me feel rather special that I have people who are willing to risk arrest by offering to egg someone's house. I appreciate being able to share open, honest feelings about things I've read and even *gasp* feminism and our role in the LDS church. Others who will respectfully agree to disagree. Lesson- I need to be a better friend. If you are ever prompted to reach out, send a message, or just do something nice I vote times a thousand that you do it. You will probably never know how much it means, but do it anyway.

Honesty is the best policy. I kind of want to throw up in my mouth when I think of all the grief and trouble that could have been spared if more people practiced this principle with others. Holy crap! Am I grateful that my Mother taught me this principle and that I've tried to live it in my associations with people- and not just with those I thought could handle it. It can make for some unsettling and sometimes uncomfortable conversations but it has also saved my hide in ways you can't imagine. Tell the truth. Be honest in your dealings with your fellow man. Even if they don't like it and it makes you unpopular.

I was driving alone one day totally consumed in my thoughts and talking to myself like a crazy person. I will forever distinctly remember coming up over the hill and kind of sarcastically asking, "Is this what you wanted me to learn?!?!?" I received an almost audible, "Yes." followed by specific and comforting direction, answers to prayers. Lesson- Do not underestimate your capacity to receive personal revelation and spiritual guidance. As big or little as it may seem, expect to get answers to your questions. Ask them. It's trippy when they are answered.

The book I read to make me not hate the laundry. As much.

Today is Laundry Day. But I'm okay with it. I've finally made peace with the laundry monster. Grudgingly. It helps that it's freezing cold outside so I don't want to do anything but stay inside and drink hot tea with my leftover pizza anyway.

Several months ago I read a great book. Large Family Logistics. If I wrote and marketed books I'd cross out 'Large'. It's good stuff for all families.

                                         

It made Monday my Laundry Day. Tuesday my errand day. Wednesday my office day... and on and on. I attribute this book with only living in semi-controlled chaos for the last several months and not complete and total bedlam. It doesn't give the recipe for how to get someone else to match the socks or at least turn the clothes right side out (huge pet peeve!), but it's made having seven loads of laundry to wash, fold, and put away today totally do able. I devote one single day and then don't do any other laundry the rest of the week, minus the diapers and unless someone pukes or pees or someone gets puked or peed on. Ok, so I still do some sort of laundry almost every day, but I don't hate it as much.

Hello....hello...helloooooo.....

That is the echo of my typing into cyberspace.

Is anyone still reading this? If you are, um...why? No really, I'm curious.

Pictures? Kid updates? What color is her kitchen now? Did she find more free furniture on the side of the road? What is she reading? Looking for intellectually stimulating perspectives on world economics? We're related? Witty re-tellings of life in the trenches? 3 kids = trenches? Wait, she has three? Last I checked there were two. Then six. So, we're at three? Still hoping for pictures? Pictures of Squishy? Scrunch quotes? My life makes you think, "Oy, see? Could be worse."? You knit too? You just realized I'm not on Facebook anymore? You're bored? Insomnia? Crafting inspiration? You like big butts and you cannot lie?

I give up. Just tell me.

I've asked myself why I do (and mostly don't) blog. The answer depends on the day. Lots of times it's so that my mother will stop nagging me about posting pictures of this or that- Visits to see Santa, our (but really MY) new baby bunny Cadbury, all ready for Ha-yiah!! (That's what Porkchop calls taekwando).

I want to write for my future self. So I can look back and remember and think, "Wow! I am so much smarter than I used to be." Oh, and I also want people, but especially women, and more especially my friends to think, "I am so glad I'm not the only one who thinks that."

P.S. My kitchen is still white.

P.P.S I scored the greatest of all mother-load scores of free-ness from behind a warehouse last weekend. You should be so excited to see what comes of it.

P.P.P.S Scrunch, Porkchop, and Squishy are not the names of hamsters. They are my kids. I have a deep seeded fear of all mice resembling rodents.

P.P.P.P.S I really did quit Facebook.

P.P.P.P.P.S I don't have any intellectually stimulating perspectives on world economics. But I do listen to NPR and on laundry day we watch Planet Earth.