run

5:21. Alarm goes off.  Just enough time to snooze once.
I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to move. I’m cozy snuggled up under the covers.
5:30. Beeping fills the room again. Sigh. Shoes on. Hair up.  I can do this.
Movie on – with captions, the sound is so quiet.  I do my best to keep the rest of the house asleep.
And I run.  A very old treadmill insists that I – not it – sets the pace.  I have to force it to keep going as fast as I’d like.  But I run.
Not far. Not fast. But for 30 minutes my heart beats faster, sweat beading along my hairline. 
I hate getting up early.  But I hate not doing something about my weight more. I watch the time tick closer to that thirty mark more than I read the captions on the movie.  “60 more seconds” I chant. “You can do this!”
40 now . . . just 19 more. . . 3 . 2 . 1. YES! I slow to a walk and begin a cool down.
I feel more awake than three weeks ago. I feel confident, capable, like I can actually make a difference this time.
I will not be down 10 pounds by the first of December.  Too much baking and not enough will power. But I can be down 5.  And 5 is a beautiful number.

Learning Gratitude

As I flew the short distance from my falling bicycle to the mud splattered paved trail below me, there was just enough time for three thoughts to race through my head.

1. No!! how can this be happening!
2. 'Lil! she should be safe in the trailer
3. Noise! make some noise so Hubby will hopefully hear and come back to help

Isn't that an interesting order? First, denial that I was in the predicament in the first place. Then worry for my child, and finally a bit of worry for myself.

The mud came out of no where - And on such a steep incline, there was little chance of me getting stopped safely, even if I hadn't had 50 + pounds of trailer and child pushing me faster. But, 'Lil - who, with a 7 month speech delay instead of the needed 9 month one and therefore won't receive speech services  (grumble grumble!)- was  perfectly safe inside that trailer.

After much thought, I'm grateful for many things that have occurred about the entire incident.
I'm grateful

• That the same rains which made the mud, made the slides at the park very wet. So wet that I had packed a towel to dry them off with. That exceptionally wet towel was wonderful to clean my hands off so I could at least grip my handle bars without slipping.
• That, out of the 3 days in a week I take this bike ride,this was the one where Hubby came too.
• That my grunts were loud enough to alert Hubby to my predicament.
• That, at the time, the worst of my injuries was having the wind knocked out of me.
• That the whole thing occurred only 1 mile away from my house so I could quickly get home.
• That I thought to put the whites in the dryer before I left and actually had clean dry underwear to get into.
• That I hadn't started any other laundry so my mud covered clothes could go straight in the washer.
• That my shower is literally feet away from my washer, so the distance I needed to streak wasn't far.
• That there was plenty of warm water, which felt so soothing on my now skinless patch of forearm.
• That my cute Hubby was there to take care of 'Lil - and even hosed all the mud off my bike and trailer.
• That my biggest plan for the day was to fold laundry, so I could take it easy.
• That 'Lil still takes 2-3 hour naps so there is even more rest time for me.
• That, as I came to realize just how beat up my knee, back, and shoulder actually are, all I need is some painkiller and a few days of taking it easy instead of something much, much worse.
• That here, on my blog, I can tell of my stupidity and you won't chew me out for it. Yes, I was probably going to fast, but I bet anyone coming off that hill with a trailer would have been going at the same speed. And instead of telling me how stupid I was, you will commiserate with my stupidity, and let me know that I'm still a decent person instead of a complete idiot.

That last one is really big to me. Thank you for reading my ramblings. Thank you for keeping judgments to yourself - I've never had a mean comment on my blog. Thank you for putting up with my craziness.

Thanks for helping my gratitude day.

Year in review

Hey all.

After posting this morning, I continued to think about all I've done in the last year. And then I went to the temple. And I realized that I focus too much on what everyone else does. Too much on what I didn't accomplish. Too much on the negative.

I've seen lots of year in reviews on other blogs, but didn't want to bother doing on for mine. But after realizing that I am full of worth, that my offerings are good enough, that I really am rather cool, I decided to compile a list of what I accomplished in 2010.

#1. I had a baby. Really, just on that note alone, I could call the year done. That is a major accomplishment! And since she's the bestest happiest, cutest thing around, I take great pleasure in that accomplishment.

#2. I built a table. My first knock off wood project, this was quite an adventure. I had a 1 month old, plus two other preschoolers, all the saws and such were at a different house, and I'd never really built a thing in my life before. But I did it (with Happy Mom's help, of course), and I love my table.

#3. I spent 19 HOURS sanding my living room. All I can say about that project is I'm glad it's over. It needed to be done, was annoying as anything, and put out so much dust I was cleaning for months. I also painted and redid some other stuff too. I'm so happy with the room now!

#4. I made an adorable room for my girls. Which I still love. It just makes me happy to walk in there and realize just how much work I put in, that actually paid off. The colors make me happy, the bunk bed gets lots of use, the quilts aren't falling apart - it's wonderful!

#5. I did a bunch of furniture stuff. I redid a chair, a dresser, made my own ottoman, bookcase, and bench for my kitchen table. I also fixed up a closet, and ripped all the wallpaper off in my kitchen (which I haven't blogged about because that's all I've done! That room needs a lot of work, hopefully this year!).

#6. I made my bathroom livable. Which was the project that first made me think I might be addicted to redos. (btw, the paint has only chipped a tiny bit on the vanity, and only where the kids use a handle as a step stool to climb up. It's holding up way better than I thought!)

#7. I re-designed my blog, making it look way cooler, added numbers, and doubled my followers (I'm up to 30!). I still remember the first time a stranger followed me - totally crazy. I still think you guys are crazy to read all my ramblings. Oh wait. I just insulted all of your intelligences. Shoot. Um, just forget I said any of that, and know that I'm grateful you're here!

#8. I became a crafting maniac, and did more than should be possible in 10 days.

#9. Read 90 books. Actually, I think it might have been more. But I added 90 books to my Goodreads list. But I'm trying to cut back. I've been sticking with my 3 at a time limit, and it's helping a lot.


#10. I watched my children grow. I played. I loved. I grew myself. And I wrote a list reminding myself that I'm pretty great.

You're great too. Thanks for sticking with me. Let's see where 2011 takes us!

Squeal with delight!

Hey all!

So my girls' room transformation is being featured today over at Remodelaholic. Have you ever checked out her site? talk about a wealth of homey inspiration!

Go check it out.

Time

"Time enjoyed spending is not wasted."

I truly believe that. I enjoy so many things in my life, many of which is "wasting" time. However, my wasted time is also time I can never get back. And lately I've been enjoying far too much time on things that don't matter.

Reading is one of those. I read (and read and read and read) a lot. Probably too much. I'm currently averaging almost 3 books a week. All at least 300 pages. Um yah. I think I've tipped past the hobby level into the obsession/addiction level. This is something I need to cut back on. For starters, I made the rule I am now only allowed 3 books to be checked out from the library at one time.

Along with reading books, I read a lot of blogs. Today I realized how much time I spend reading blogs. The problem is there is just so much information out there! I'm fascinated by so many things, so many wonderful ideas, so much to discover. But there are more important things in my life than the latest mythbusters results. So today I cut down my google reader. I started with 74, and managed to trim it to only 49. And since a full dozen of those post only once in a blue moon, it really could be less.

Cutting back on the blogs was an interesting process. It's kind of like de-junking anything else. I start to just get rid of everything! Do I need 6 home improvement blogs that all talk about the same thing? Nope! How about 7 scrap booking blogs that I never even read any more? Cooking blogs that I never have time to make? All gone!

One thing I spend far too much time on is wishing for other things. I find myself spending too much time on my "someday" plans, and not enough in real time. How much do you do this? "Someday" I'll be able to afford that. "Someday" I'll have enough time. "Someday" I'll do this. Recently I looked around my house and realized just how many things I've got that I've always wanted. Things for my kids, things for my house, things for my spouse. And while the list of things I would like to have is long, things get checked off at a fairly regular basis. So today my goal is to enjoy what I've got, and not stress about the things I want.


So what do I want to do with all the time that I'm "saving"? Here's what I plan on doing more of every day.

#1. Snuggle my baby. She's growing at such an amazing pace, wowing me everyday. I will take the time to rejoice in her stages, and just bask in that two tooth smile she loves to shower upon me.

#2. Think about my Hubby. Caught up in the daily grind, busy with chores and diapers, I do not spend enough time focused on my spouse. It's much harder when he's off flying, but even when he's home I don't think about him enough. Someday there won't be any noses left to wipe. If my house gets messy I will only be able to blame myself. And at that point, I don't want to find myself not knowing this man who has stuck by my side. If he is truly one of the most important things in my life, then I need to spend more time (even just mental) with him.

#3. Play games with Buddy. With Girly-Lou off at school for a ridiculous amount of time every day, Buddy gets very lonely. I want him to remember (if he does at all) these times with Mommy as special times. Not as just being bored all day times.

#4. Clean. And I mean some serious cleaning. Not just picking up. I do ok at picking up. But why don't I dust once and a while. Vacuum more than monthly. If 'Lil is eating things off the floor, I want to to be something spilled at breakfast, not something we ate last week.

Then there's my BIG 3. Praying, scriptures, and exercise. I need to spend some serious time on my knees talking to my Father. I need to study, not just read my scriptures. And I seriously need to work more on my health. I've still got 19 lbs to loose before I'm back to my pre baby weight!

I actually started a list like this back in July. But I made it too long. There were too many things to work on at once. Which meant I was not actually getting to all of them, which turned into not doing any of them way too quickly. But I'm ready to get working again. Being my crazy self, I of course had to make a cute sign to hang up to help me remember.

My goal is to make my time reflect what is most important to me. To cherish what I have. To rejoice in my life.

What's your goal?

Tooting my own horn

I love blogging. I don't do it enough, but when the moment strikes, to have a place to think things out, get them down for later, and be able to read again is priceless. I started this blog because I needed an outlet that involved more than just me reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar for the billionth time. I wanted a place to be me. To be silly, or crazy, or whiny, or ornery, or happy, or sad, or however the heck I was feeling. A place to just let it be loose.

So I created my own corner of the world for me. And you know what - I like it. I like me. Once and awhile, the urge comes to just read again my own words. And it's fun. I've actually made myself laugh, which is really weird. I have good ideas. I'm funny. I'm thought provoking. I like me.

So in that line of thought, here's a list of my favorite posts.
By me.
How narcissistic can you get?

• Weighty Matters
• Tender Hands of a child
  
• Going from Normal to Giddy to Bugged in 30 minutes.
• Pain
  
• Life Liberty and Learning
• Imagination, A Play
• A momentous Occasion
• My struggle with Mommy Rage
• Ugg!
• A bit of Nostalgia
• Things I've learned in the last few weeks
• Tale of three blankets
• 'cause it's really interesting
• To all Viruses, bacteria, and other nasties,
• An old Friend
• Joy
• 20 years ago
• How to turn a 2.5 hour car ride into a never ending saga
• I'd make a lousy pioneer

If you were to list your favorite posts from yourself, what would they be?

Life Gaurd

My Hubby helped save a life yesterday.

I get regular, incredibly detailed descriptions of his flights. While I could never land a plane, I've begun to understand when he starts talking "flaps 22, gear down, chop and drop" (basically it means it was hard to get the plane down to land because of a difficult set up.) Honestly because of the immense technical details, I tune most of the conversation out. But yesterday's description garnered my full attention.

Before taking off on his first flight of the day, he was informed that he was given "Life Guard" call sign. This sign is given to planes with critical body parts aboard. While he's transported a few eyes and even a liver once, this was his first time flying with a human heart in his cargo bay.

Usually most of his stories are riddled with descriptions of annoying people: this Air Traffic Controller wouldn't clear them to land, that Ramper was totally lazy and wouldn't answer the radio, the Gate Agent was late, etc. Hubby's description of when he was Life Guard was much different. Everyone got out of their way, bent over backwards to help smooth the way. At one point he said "it would be awesome if everyone treated every flight as if it was a Life Guard."

He landed, watched as they transported the organ to another plane for a continuing flight across the nation, and went on with his day. But I could hear the touch of pleasure in his voice as he took pride in helping someone live. Just by doing his job.

How often does one get a chance to be a Life Guard? Hubby did nothing special, not really even different than the dozen of other flights he performs in a week. But by being there, just doing his job, he saved a life.

Do I do that? By just doing my job, have I helped someone else? Hubby has no idea who the recipient is, no idea even where the heart will end up. What actions do I do that could change someone? How can I behave, help, guide, just be there to help someone else.

Even more than that, what about all the other people that didn't fly the plane but made it easier. They just treated with respect, and did their job the best they can. To find joy in your job, to do the very best no matter what. What a hard thing to do when all around us we are told that we "deserve" better, that we ARE better, that this is beneath us.

I work. I work hard. I do not get a paycheck for my job. I do not always find satisfaction in my job. I do not always do my best job. There are times when I just want to give up, run away, be someone else for a few days.

But I don't. There is no way to know when me just doing my regular job will make the difference in someone's life. Just to be there could make me a Life Guard too.

That's enough to inspire me to get back to work. I do love my job, just as Hubby loves his. But sometimes you just need to feel like you can make a difference.

And now I remember that we can.

20 Years Ago . . .

I love memorial day. Honestly, I never thought of it as a patriotic holiday growing up. We did more honor to all of our departed ancestors than just military. A big part of that, I imagine, is the greater number of non military ancestors.
I have so many memories of memorial day (wow that sounds redundant!) But there is one memorial day weekend that will always come to mind before others. And it's been exactly 20 years ago.
(ok, so at this point my entire family knows where I'm going with this. But for the 7 of you I'm not related to, I want to share my tale. My family can just indulge me.)
My parents built a cabin. Determined not to go into debt for this luxury, they decided to quickly finish the outside and then complete the inside on a when-funds-available plan. This story takes place in the first year or so of the work.

I loved my Dad. Hero worshiped might be a better phrase. My father was not blessed with an abundance of sons. Knowing this, I was determined to be the second son my father never had. From my current adult perspective, I'm sure I was usually more hindrance than help. Nevertheless, I was a very willing extra 9 year old hand.
On this excursion, brick was on the list. It was one of the last things needed before the outside was complete. My dad took an extra day for the long weekend, and we headed up to get the brick laid.

I remember so many things about that particular trip: sleeping in the top of the camper with my dad snoring below. Getting all our water from our wonderful neighbors. My dad joking when I pointed something out "Second mistake I've ever made in my life. And the first time was only when I thought I was wrong but wasn't!". The beautiful sunny weather making the spring leaves glow on the mountains. Dad knew when the shadows started up the mountains across the valley, we better start cleaning up. He sent me over to clean out the mixer we were using for the mortar.

Honestly what happened next I've blacked out. One minute I was wiggling two plugs together to get the machine started, and the next I was sobbing in my dad's shoulder. Later my dad would tell me that he heard me screaming and knew exactly what had happened - my shoulder length hair was caught in the pulley. He jumped off the scaffolding and ran to my side, all the time wondering if it would be better to disconnect the power underneath me (a time consuming process), or go to the source across the street. As luck would have it, neither was needed. By the time he reached me my hair was no longer attached to my head, and I pulled away.
We were over an hour away from a hospital. He looked me over, saw there was no bleeding, and decided the best choice was to quickly finish cleaning up and drive home.

I still remember my mom's gasp of horror when she saw my head. I believe her next words were "has she seen a doctor?" She got on the phone to a nurse and described what had happened. That's when I learned just how lucky I was to only loose my hair. It could have taken off my face too.
And it wasn't all my hair, just the back. A few weeks later we actually thought to take a picture. I spent a hour today searching for that picture. I have no idea where it is! So here's my phenomenal artist rendition:
No, I didn't forget my face. There really was that much hair gone from the back of my head. Completely smooth off. And I got home around 8:00 pm on a Saturday night. Off my mom ran to the store to try and find SOMETHING to cover that up for Sunday. Armed with two clearance Easter bonnets, I at least could not horrify the ward the next day. She also picked up a cap for school (which required special permission to wear).
Later my dad would go back and dig out all the hair he could from that pulley. My mom carefully arranged it, sewed it into a strip of fabric, and I had a wig of my own hair. Every Sunday, we'd carefully brush it out and load it with hot curlers. Then Mom would pull back the remainder of my hair into an elastic and pin the wig on. I still have the wig (a bit worse for the wear!)


I only wore the hats for a few months school got out. By the next year enough had grown in that I was able to sport an awesome side pony tail until we cut it all short. But I learned a lot that year.

I learned how to roll with some punches. That it was easier to get help from a teacher than chase stupid boys around the playground to get my hat back. I learned that how I looked didn't change who I was. I grew confidant in my ability to handle difficult situations. I learned when life gets hard, there isn't much you can do except keep plodding on and make the best of it.

We are the sum of our experiences. While I'd never wish having the majority of your hair ripped from your scalp on anyone, this is one experience I am grateful for. Much of my confidence and "just go for it" attitude I can trace back to a small yellow cement mixer 20 years ago.

Happy Memorial day to you all.



UPDATE:

I found the picture. My drawing had me loosing less hair than reality! This was taken a few weeks after, when my hair had already started to grow back. And to this day, I still seriously wish we would have taken 12 seconds to brush my hair. But at least I have the picture!

Joy . . .

is a fleeting thing. But when experienced, can bring glimpses of eternity to your soul.

A few days ago, 'Lil Flower slept from 9:00 pm to 7:00 am. I was stunned when I woke up to her crying and looked at the clock. She's only 3 months old, after all! I fed her, and she instantly went back to sleep. I debated on being productive or just going back to sleep. My bed was beckoning and I gave in. My Hubby rolled over and gave me a hug. Unable to actually drift of, my mind began to wander at just how marvelous it was to lay in bed, wrapped in my husbands arms, listening to the birds calling, sunlight drifting in through semi-clean windows.

A few moments later, Girly-Lou and Buddy come padding into our room. Amazingly enough, they were both happy, not fighting, or demanding breakfast. They climbed into our bed where we snuggled as a family, laughing and playing and tickling together.

This was joy. My soul felt full. I could not picture how this could be better, unless replicated in a few months when 'Lil will be old enough to join in.

My life is full of non - joy. Dishes. Laundry. Fighting children. Bills. Headaches. Dishes. Weeds. Bugs. Dishes. Lack of time. Did I mention Dishes?

But on this day, for this moment. I knew what joy was. My goal is to remember this feeling, and seek more earnestly to find it every day.

Why my blog will never make me a millionaire.

My sister said something yesterday that got me thinking. She said "I've been trying to decide what direction to go with my blog. . . " Direction? Wow. That's more thought than I'd put into my writing.

So I started thinking. I looked at what I do. I looked at what I'm good at. I looked at the blogs I follow.

I want so many things in my life. I want to be cool. I want my blog to reflect my coolness. I want to be thought provoking like Ink Mom and Mommy Snark. I want to show off all kinds of decorating skills like the Nester and Remodleaholic. I want to create amazing cooking skills and dishes like Gourmet Mom on the Go. I want to be all crafty like Make it and Love it or Homemade by Jill. I want to showcase my new quilting skills like V and Co or Quilt Taffy. I want to have amazing scrap booking tips like Scrap Girls. I want to divulge thrifty tips and survival guides like Totally Ready and Food Storage Made Easy.

These are all my blog heroes. The amazing women that inspire me to create, to build, to learn, to improve. Reading their words makes me want to be a better person. I want to inspire others just like they do.

But really, I'm just a bit too diversified.

For example, here's a list of my current projects:
*Sanding the living room.
*Painting the bathroom.
*Cleaning my entire house because of #1.
*Sewing 2 pieced twin quilts for the girls' room.
*Figuring just what bed we're making for the kids
*Tackling all the weeds in the backyard
*Researching square foot gardens
*Reading Anna Karenina
*Finishing Buddy's third scrapbook
*Starting 'Lil's first scrapbook
*Cooking for the test kitchen
*Cross stitching Christmas presents
*Making kid's table and chairs
*Researching used cars
*Building our food storage

(And I honestly worked on 11 of those 15 things today.)
There is no way that one blog can showcase all that (unless you're Tip Junkie). I'm only one person. But I like my life. I love that I'm interested in so many things. I love finding new adventures, new ways to grow, new challenges. Someone once said (I think it was Lincoln) that God must prefer regular looking people. That's why He made so many of them. I'm not a blogging superstar. I'm just a regular gal, doing my craziness, one day at a time.

And I'm very ok with that.

So apparently, my blog is going the same place it's been. I'll talk about what inspires me, what's going on in my world. Occasionally I'll post about my house, about my kids. I'll put in recipes when I feel the need. If I craft something cool, you'll hear about it.

And in honor of all I'm doing, check out my new description. 'Cause when you do as much as I do, you might as well sound like your cool too.

Do you knock off wood?

A couple of months ago I found Knock off wood. If you haven't heard of this blog, you must not follow very many craft blogs. She is awesome! Basically, it's a mom that loves to make furniture. Really nice furniture. So she takes pictures of stuff from places like Pottery Barn and Land of Nod and figures out how to make them. Then she posts the plans - FOR FREE for the world to make their own.
I've been drooling. Seriously. I want to build something for every room in my house.

Well, I FINALLY got around to getting some wood. For my first project, I decided to do THIS plan: the simple easy console table. But since I apparently have an inability to keep anything simple or easy, I had to change it. I needed some shelves for this puppy. I really wanted drawers, but those are supposed to be harder. So here's how I changed it.

The original plan:
My table:
The shelves are made from (4) 1/3's cut to 38" long. The bottom one is screwed into the top of the side supports, and the upper shelf is screwed into the bottom of the side aprons. I also changed out the 1 x 4 to a 1x6 to give a bit more room for the top shelf.

I spent $27 on the wood, and another $40 for all the screws, sandpaper, glue, stain, pre-conditioner, and poly to finish it. So a total of $70 out of pocket, but I've got enough of the supplies to make another dozen things. It took me about 8 hours to build it total, but I'm a newbie to wood work, so I was slow, and I had a newborn that didn't want to sleep AT ALL that first day!

My stresses with this table: first of all, I don't have a nail gun. If I had, I would agree that this would be a simple easy table. Instead I used screws, which meant I had to drill every hole, switch to a driver bit, and then screw in the screw. Very time consuming. But it's sturdy!

Second: I'm cheap. And I bought some cheap boards for my 1x3's. I saved like $10 or something by buying the cheap boards instead of the nice ones. But added 300 hours of stress with them! They weren't quite the required 10" wide for the shelves. So I had to slightly stagger them for the shelves, which meant I had to sand them to perfection so I could stain the sides before attaching them. They were pretty chewed up in places, so sanding was a LONG process. And they were bowed in some places so getting them to attach at all was an adventure.

Third: I've never built anything in my life. I did this with Happy Mom, who had never really built anything either. So it took a long time to figure out how to do stuff. The first leg took us like 30 minutes to figure out. But then I did the next 3 in another 20. Each step was like that. The first part took forever to do, but then it got faster.
Fourth: the finish. Did you know that wood glue is not stain-able? Yah, neither did I until I stained my table. Apparently you have to buy special glue for that. So I've got white patches where the glue dripped out and I didn't sand it enough (but thought I had!). I did get "stainable" wood putty, but you can still totally see where the screws are (REALLY wish I had a nail gun!). Also, those blankety blank stupid cheap boards totally took the stain different. Here's my nice beautiful 1x12 board:(see that blob dot in the corner. That's the "stainable" putty. grrrrr!)

Now check out the legs of my table:

I console myself by saying it just looks nice and rustic. Of course that totally was NOT the look I was going for, but it works for now. Some time I'll fix it (I think I'll save staining for when I'm a bit more experienced!)

My tips: do this with someone. It's really hard to get things evenly matched up without an extra set of hands to holds stuff together. If you can't do it with someone, you need a bunch of big old clamps so the clamps can hold the wood together while you drill and screw together. Or get a nail gun. I think it's going on my wish list for Christmas! And don't save yourself $10 with cheap boards. It's not worth the stress!

Next on my list: THIS bed for Buddy's new room.

Tomorrow

It's finally here. Tomorrow, whether I like it or not, I will have a baby. A tiny little helpless bundle to take care of. I did not think I'd make it this long - I was so sure this one was coming early. But here I am, less than 10 hours away from meeting this new member of our family.

So many people have asked the same questions over and over.

"Are you ready?"
"Are you nervous?"
"Are you excited?"
"Do you need anything?"

How do you answer these questions? Let me try.

"Are you ready?" Well, what do you mean? The nursery is assembled, diapers stockpiled, a small amount of formula ready. The baby has clothes to wear, a place to sleep, a car seat, blankets, burp clothes, pacifier, lotion, soap. The kids are at Happy Mom's, my bags are packed, and my abdomen scrubbed according to regulations. Am I ready to not feel fat and ugly all the time? Am I ready to start getting my body back (at least be small enough to not injure myself getting in and out of our tiny shower)? Am I ready to finally know if we're having a "Little Flower" or "Blue Junior" (yes, those are the blog names, based on what my children in reality want to name this one). Am I ready for the sleep deprivation, the aches, the flood of hormones? Am I ready to fall in love again? Am I ready to be responsible for another life again?

Can you ever really be ready?

"Are you nervous?" Nervous about what? About the c-section? About not being able to go from siting to standing or the other way with out immense pain for weeks? About if nursing will actually work this time around? If Buddy, who took 18 months to toilet train, will start reverting like all the experts say to expect (like happened this morning . . . .) If my kids will be jealous with all the attention the new one will get. Or the other way - if they love the baby so much they smother it to death. To be out numbered now? To not have enough hands to hold everything, to fix everything, to help everyone? If the baby will have problems, if I will have problems, if something happens so that this has to be our very last one?

What is there to be nervous about?

"Are you excited?" Excited to hold my baby? To have that new baby smell on my hands? To finally decide on names? To count fingers and toes and hair color and eyes? To not feel like a beached whale? To not have constant cramps with a real contraction every 3 hours - just enough to be miserable, but not enough to do anything about it? To not be a pregnant hormonal freak (I know my hubby's excited for that one, even if it does get worse after.)? To be a family of 5? To feel that overwhelming joy and angst at this new responsibility?

There is almost too much to be excited about.

"Do you need anything?" Do you mean besides 12,000 diapers? And in reality, a whole heap of formula for when nursing fails again. And more patience. And sleep. And for our van, which was rear-ended 3 weeks ago to finally be out of the shop so we can all fit again. And way more money than I really want to spend for doctor's bills. And for it to be Thursday already so I can be home and resting and start the process of our new "normal" life.

Nope. Not a thing.

Ready or not. Here baby comes.

Today

Today I:
*rocked my son
*Exercised
*organized my digital scrapbook files
*backed up my computer
*caught up with my friends blogs
*tried to perfect a cookie recipe
*finished reading a book
*made breakfast for my crew
*did the budget
*re-wrote my master to-do list
*made 3 trio block creations with my kiddos
*finished an awesome project (I'll blog about that one later!)
* and did the dishes.

And it's only 8:30. Amazing what you can accomplish when insomnia hits at 4:00 in the morning!

My new goal

Oh yah. I'd love for that to be about me!

Wow.

I think it's finally happened. A skill I have been developing for at least 25 years just might be fully developed. Others have tried to help me with this. I've felt guilt over my lack of ability to accomplish this task. I've been bothered, annoyed, frustrated, even given up multiple times. But I think I can finally say . . .

I now make my bed every single day.

It finally actually bugs me to not have my bed made. I no longer find it more annoying to actually make the bed than to see it rumpled. I find joy in straitened covers.

Of course, now it bugs me at how lousy the rest of my room looks when my bed is made (and the serous need of some actual decoration done in that room!), but today I'm finding happiness in the little things.

Language

Have you ever thought just how amazing language is? The fact that we are able to communicate with others, through voice, through print, through electricity, through touch, through hands?

In college, my major was Communicative Disorders. For those not in the know, this is the undergrad for either audiology (hearing specialists) or Speech Language Pathology (speech problem specialists). You pick which on to specialize in, and then go on to grad school to be able to actually do anything with the degree. While I did not do the last step, I learned some amazing things about language.

One of the most fascinating classes I had was our voice disorders class. There we learned, in great detail, just exactly what is involved to talk. There are such minute differences between different sounds. For example, the difference between and long e sound and a short i sound. They are produced in the exact same place in your mouth, your tongue is in the same position, they are the same length, same intensity, same everything. Except for one small thing: there is a very small muscle underneath your chin that is tightened for the long e. This results in a very small harmonic change, which our ears are able to pick up, change into an electric signal, send to our brain, which then correctly interprets the difference. All this happens in less than a blink of an eye, for the myriad of different sounds used in our language on an hourly basis. English has 18 different vowel sounds. The actual difference between different sounds is minuscule, but we can understand.

I have been fascinated by sign language ever since I watched Linda on Sesame street. I always wanted to be able to sign. When I was 17 (ish), I started to learn. A good friend of mine knew a woman that lived close by who was an interpreter. Together we took classes from her for over a year. I never was proficient, but I could get by.

In college, I was able to take two more classes. I learned syntax, vocabulary, culture. I still was not even close enough to interpret for someone, but I loved every minute. One of my favorite classes was a conversational ASL class. This was taught by a grad student that I knew fairly well. He was hearing, but had been raised by deaf parents, and actually learned English as a second language - his first was sign. He was able to give such a unique perspective.

Now, as an adult, I've had little opportunity to use my sign language. I have forgotten so much of it. I will admit, that's one of the many reasons I was happy to move here - my sister is good friends with a deaf woman. As I have also become friends with this amazing lady, I have had the opportunity to brush up on this amazing language. While I am still very limited in my vocabulary, and really lousy at actually interpreting into full ASL, I love the ability to communicate with her, to feel my understanding grow.

On Sunday, I had the opportunity to interpret during Sacrament meeting. It was hard - really hard at some points (you try interpreting computer code into a different language!), but so fulfilling. To help someone be able to understand, to grow, to communicate with another person, is a great gift. One that I'm excited to have and develop even more.

What gifts do you have and develop?

My education

There are days I want to go back to school. I miss the learning, the feeling of knowledge, the moments on tests when you suddenly remember the answer.

But this is not the season for formal education. So instead, I thought I'd think a bit about what I've learned in my informal school. The school of being a mom, wife, daughter, and just a human.

This week I've learned:
*What it feels like to have a frail looking 80 something year old woman decide you're the one that needs help picking up a jug of milk from the bottom of the cooler.
*How much easier it is to toilet train an over 3 year old than a not quite 2 year old.
*That said 3 year old is capable of reaching absolutely anything in my kitchen.
*That if anything is left out in my kitchen, that same 3 year old will find it and devour it every time he walks through.
*how much more homey your front room feels when you finally get a couch. (!!!)
*How much I can accomplish when I wake up (on purpose or not) 2 hours before anyone else.
*How to empathise with my own mom when she would get so frustrated as her kids bickered.
*Driving 40 miles in one day now seems like no big deal
*That watching home movies shows so much clearer how much your children have grown instead of just pictures
*I'm addicted to crafting blogs, even though I rarely have the time/talent/money to actually make any of the 8 zillion pages I bookmark.
*The likely hood that I will end up delivering this baby without my husband near scares me more and more each week.
*How close I can feel to someone I've only met digitally.
*That sitting down to think about all the ways I grow feels me with gratitude that I can still grow in so many ways.

How about you? What have you learned in the "real world"?

My struggle with mommy rage

I feel like I need to apologise for my lack of blogging. I feel like I'm being a bad bloggy friend. I promise I've been reading your blogs, I just haven't felt profound, or inspired, or even remotely funny - all things I try to do when I blog. Just part of my goal to pretend that I'm cool like that. I have planned on writing some posts requested by some comments. I've done a lot of mental drafts, just haven't sat at my computer long enough to do more than that.

But this post got me thinking today.

Like Besty, I struggle to decide where all my anger comes from. As my siblings can attest - I had a lot as a teen too, especially certain times of the month. I remember how great it was when I got my own room, and could just hide in there for a week. Everyone was so much happier when I could withdraw myself from life, including myself.

But I haven't struggled this much with my temper since I hit 20. So why to I go from mildly upset to a lunatic in 3 sentences?

I really did NOT like the idea that mommy rage could be some form of "buyers remorse." I love my kids, and have never once regretted the decision to have them. I have however really hated their actions, or my reactions to them.

Yes, I have a raving demon within me. Personally, 90% of the time it’s manifest because of the kids - something they did. For me I don’t think it’s ever been “buyers remorse”. With me it’s all about control.

Think about it: for the past X # of years, you were in control of everything you did. You decided where you wanted to go. You decided what to wear. You decided who to play with, what to eat, how to behave. Especially after high school, you had almost complete control over everything in your life.

Did you want a clean room? That’s your job. Did you want straight A’s? You can control that too. Hate the feel of your place? Just move somewhere else. Your success (or lack of it) was mostly a product of your effort.

Having kids changes that completely. No matter how much I clean, someone else is there to mess it up. No matter how much I play with my kids, they want more. No matter how nice I am to them, they will fight with each other. I no longer have complete control over the environment I live in. I can be as nice and wonderful and clean and perfect as I can try, but these other creatures inflict their own wants and needs and emotions directly on my life.

For me the monster usually surfaces when that control is completely lost - kids trying to kill each other over a toy, painting walls with diaper contents, breaking something after they’ve been told to leave it alone. I still want the control over my life I had 5 years ago.

But the joys of having my children are worth taming this monster. To hear them giggling together as they have a water party in my basement, even when it's over our very nice new carpet - isn't that worth the effort of cleaning it up? It's only water. Or watching them discover a strange new bug - does my need to get milk really demand them to come this very second away from the fascination?

At the end of the day, when all is said and done, I am happy to be a mom. There is nothing more rewarding. My lack of control over myself (let alone everything else), is very disturbing to me. But since one of the reasons we are here is to gain control over our bodies, I just have to keep on trying. Eventually, I will be able to let the frustrations roll off my back with ease. There IS a good chance that that will not happen until my kids have left the house and aren't there to test it so frequently. But I won't give up trying until I succeed. Because I owe it, to my kids, to my spouse, and to me.

Tip Junkie

Hey! I was actually featured on Tip Junkie this week. It's one of my favorite sites for awesome ideas for just about anything. I feel so cool now!

She's also having a big birthday party bash next week with a TON of giveaways. Don't forget to check it out.

I am better than I think I am.

I have to admit, I do not have the highest self esteem in the world. When I've admitted that to people, they are very surprised because I come across as very outgoing. Apparently I hide my insecurities quite well.

But I don't think I'm that cool. I fail in so many areas of my life. Actually, I have a hard time believing people actually like me, that they just put up with me instead.

Last night I had a bit of a morale boost. A pseudo good friend (as in I want to be great friends with her, but I don't really know her, and she lives a couple thousand miles away) gave me a great complement. In an email about something I made, she said "So creative, Laree". I felt so flattered. This amazing woman (who is even sorta famous, at least among LDS bibliophiles) actually thought that something I did was creative!

Now, I have to admit, I've NEVER thought of myself as creative. I've been known to say I don't have a creative bone in my body, but I can copy other's works. However, I'm coming to realize that I'm much more creative than I give myself credit for. I frequently take recipes and change a lot in it - thus making it my own recipe, although I have never thought of it this way. I had always thought of it as "their" recipe, but when you change every aspect of the dish in some, even minor, way, it's no longer their recipe but yours.

And that's not all I do. Here's a list of things that I have done in the last 24 hours (some more creative than others, but all contribute to me)

I have:
Blogged
Scrapbooked
Crocheted
Read
Played games with my kids
Played the piano
Cleaned
Exercised
Bargain shopped
Connected with old friends
Made a new friend
Fell in love with my hubby (again!)

I focus way too much on the mountain of unfolded laundry, the crumbs under the table, the shear amount of things left to do.

But I am creative. I do creative things in my own way. There is not such thing as a cheater method - just different ways to achieve the look you want.

Currently I am scraping 1 page a day. I get frustrated because I have 5 years of stuff do to for my kids to be caught up. But at 1 page a day, that's 6 full books a year, which would have me caught up on my kids by December.

My piano skills leave much to be desired, but I have improved exponentially in the last 12 months, just by playing a hymn a day.

I have much left on my afghan projects, but I am almost done with 2 full blankets. At this rate, I just may make that July goal.

Almost no one reads my blog, but is that why I blog? No. I do get a thrill when an unknown semi-famous (hi Andrea!) person comments on my craziness. But really, I blog for me. I want to think I'm cool for myself. I want to be pleased with my talents. I want to focus on my greatness.

I am me.

And I am creative.