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Yesterday, while I took Hunter to his baseball game, I left Mark with orders to get our garden ready to plant. Last year, we planted some tomatoes in a little patch of grass just outside our back door and fully expected them to die. Of course, they were already half dead when we planted them (which doesn’t help) but you never can tell with Mother Nature and we decided to give her the benefit of a doubt. Well those little shriveled, dried up tomato plants grew and grew and grew and left us with more tomatoes than we knew what to do with. Anyway, because of our giant tomato success, we decided to dig up the entire patch this year and plant a real garden, complete with watermelon, pumpkins, sunflowers and much, much more.

So Mark, with the help of his sidekick, Denver, pulled out the cultivator he got for Christmas and went to work, turning the soil and digging out large rocks here and there. Before he started Mark knew he was going to have to battle the remains of a tree stump, sitting firmly in the middle of our soon-to-be garden patch. We had discussed the little problem and had decided that a bird bath would sit nicely in the middle of the garden patch and cover up the unsightly stump. Well, that was all nice and good until the roots of the stump started interfering with the cultivator and the digging process. At that point it was no longer just a matter of turning the soil and prepping the garden. Mark declared war on the stump and wasn’t going to quit until that darned thing was removed from our happy little garden patch.

Well, several hours of heavy labor and a chainsaw later, we had a tree stump and one completely exhausted but thoroughly satisfied Daddy and sidekick, Denver. Way to show that root who’s boss, boys!

Baseball season is upon us and that means dragging Hunter a couple of times a week, kicking and screaming, to the baseball field. Of course, once he’s there he has a lot of fun. . . well,uh, digging in the dirt. But the important part is, he’s outside, away from the computer and he’s being active. . . sort of. I can’t say that I see Hunter making it into the Big League anytime soon (maybe if we practiced with him a little more often) but the lightbulb does come on every once in awhile, in the middle of a play, and then Hunter surprises us all. The kids are still young and except for the rare kid whose Dad is really into baseball and has instilled the same obsession in their kid, most of them would rather be digging in the dirt than running around trying to catch a ball they’re afraid is going to knock their teeth out if they get too close to it. With that said, here’s Hunter scoring the first out for his team (Go Hunter!) and then proceeding to “strike out” everytime he’s up to bat, thereafter. Just click here and enjoy. Oh, and don’t forget your peanuts and Cracker Jacks!

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Today, mostly out of guilt (again) I decided we’d better get outside and do something that didn’t involve a television or a battery operated something or other. So, I told the boys to get their shoes on because we were going on an adventure and I threw together some sandwhiches and loaded them into the car and headed for a little park not too far from home. It’s not your normal park with a playground and lots of kids. No. . . I thought we needed something a little different for this adventure. So, we went to Riverside Park which is basically grass and water, with oodles of sticks and mud and rocks–perfect for little boys. So I spread out the picnic blanket and my beach chair and fed Caleb his lunch and watched the boys throw rocks and dig up onion grass with their fingernails and pick dandelions and basically get down and dirty with nature. After such a soggy weekend, it was very refreshing to be outside in the sun and fresh air and see the boys doing something besides sitting in front of the television, picking their noses and fighting over this and that. Now I just gotta figure out what kind of adventure we’re going on tomorrow. Any suggestions?

Since I’m pregnant and pretty much a walking zombie lately, Spring Break was a real bummer for the kids this year. If I’d had any energy at all we might have gone to D.C. or Ohio or something exciting like that. Instead we sat around watching a lot of television, playing a lot of computer games and sitting outside digging in our soon-to-be garden and flooding it with the hose. We managed to hit the beach and a couple of parks, but that was the extent of my abilities this year. Friday night Mark saved the vacation by taking the kids camping at a ward member’s house and they tried their hands at fishing. The boys had a blast but unfortunately, we were hit by a monsoon which cut their fishing trip short and flooded our basement for the rest of the weekend. Grandma and Grandpa Stout arrived in town Saturday and joined us for some of Mark’s White Bean and Ham Bone soup and Cheescake Factory Cheescake (which we ordered for Kak’s going away present) and the boys were thrilled with the visitors. And I was thrilled with Melanie and Jorge, who stayed and played Clue with me and Mark. Then Sunday we did the usual church thing, wrapping the day up at Nate and Devanie’s house for some of Mark’s fabulous Chicken A La King (the chicken provided by Cliff who generously brought us Boston Market during the week and spared me from the pain of making lunch one day.) I suppose, all in all, it wasn’t a complete loss. We had some exciting news, had friends and family come play, enjoyed lots of sunshine and fresh air and enjoyed several hours of games and fun. I suppose I’m just being hard on myself for not doing more–reading more books, visiting more museums, traveling more places, taking more advantage of our freedom. But why do more when you can do less, right? That’s my motto anyway, and for now, it’s working. . . sort of.

We’ve been blessed with fabulous weather for spring break so today we hit the beach. I had Megan on loan from Chris, so I figured with the extra two hands I could manage all four boys and a day in the sun and sand. The boys took off running and played hard until it was time to go home. Caleb was intrigued by the sand and only ate a couple of handfuls. We all managed to get a bit sunburned, but nothing so fierce we won’t be able to sleep tonight. Of course, the whole time we were there all I could think about was the fact that next year we probably won’t be at the beach much. . . no, not much at all and then, as I thought about the poor big boys and how much they’ll die without the beach, I started wondering how much two mother’s helpers would cost me. And a maid. And a cook. And a chauffer. And. . . I finally concluded a summer spent with the backyard kiddie pool and slip-n-slide was good enough for me when I was eight and it will most certainly have to be good enough for them next summer.

Waking up was really hard this morning. I tried really hard to stay asleep but the mountain of work with my name written all over it and my wheezing infant and his clogged rice formula bottle kept me from my denial attempts. So, I abandoned my sleep and proceeded to beg Mark to please stay home from work, one more day. We had such a fabulous weekend. Hunter had his first baseball practice and Mark got home early enough to go with us and we even got to eat out afterwards. Mark had Friday off so he went with us to playgroup and we had our pictures done at the mall. They turned out not so bad and it was nice to eat lunch together and finally get an up-to-date family photo. Saturday we had a spectacular Easter Party–a bunch of friends and family came over and dyed eggs with us and Chris and Kathy and Nate threw some candy on the back lawn and the kids had an Easter hunt and we all ate lunch together in the absolutely perfect spring weather. And Sunday we went to church and had a delicious dinner with family and our neighbor Elizabeth and played this really fun game and had pie for dessert. So of course, I wanted the weekend to stretch on just a bit longer and thought maybe, just maybe, if I begged Mark long enough, he would stay home with me. But Mark has work that can’t wait and he’s a very busy business man nowadays and insisted his meetings be attended to. So I proceeded to pout and complain about the amount of laundry that had consumed my chore list and how I’d never get it done and that I’d probably spend the day at the laundromat in a desperate attempt to get on top of things.

Now sometimes, when I think I’m being whimpy and whiney, I’m really not. I think my subconcious is telling me exactly what I need. But because I’m so darn good at telling myself that I’m just being a whimp, it makes it really easy to ignore my subconcious and not give myself the things that I need. Either that or God knows exactly what I want (or don’t want) and then challenges me (or punishes me) accordingly. Either way, my subconsious was right on today and I should have listened to it. But I didn’t and I really wish I had.

Instead of going to the laundromat, I decided to be a trooper and do the laundry, one load at a time, here at the homefront. So I fired up a load, fed the kids breakfast, and ran downstairs to start load two. Then our neighbor came over to complain about our chicken some more and said something like, “can you imagine what it would be like if you had more than one?” to which I thought “if you had any idea what we have brewing in our guest bedroom you’d sell your house now.” So, I plopped down on the couch to read everyone’s blogs because Mark has been chuckling all weekend about certain blogs and my curiosity has been peaked for days and I just had to see what was so funny. So I started to read and all of the sudden I heard a weird bubbling sound and I asked the kids what the noise was and they all said it was the toilet and it had dry ice in it. And the reason they thought that was because we played a joke on them last Halloween and really put some dry ice in the toilet, but I knew that couldn’t possibly be true now. Then I heard this terrible gushing, splashing sound of water and immediately put two and two together and knew the basement was currently being flooded by the washing machine draining into a clogged pipe. So I ran downstairs and stopped the washing machine and turned off the water and soaked up what I could, but the damage had been done. And I knew that running any water in our house right now could be really bad and that immediately put a stop to my attempts at cleaning up the disaster left behind by such a spectacular weekend. So I called Mark and looks like there’s a massive power outage at work and he really probably should have stayed home one more day afterall. And I just want to sit down and cry because why? Why do things always have to be difficult? I mean I know they have to be sometimes but why so often?

Of course, ever since I found out we’re expecting baby number five things have been especially not rose colored. I have my poop-colored glasses on lately and try as I may to see the peachy side of things, it’s not working. Everything seems “not fair” and I feel angry about everything. I don’t want to be pregnant right now. I just had a baby. It’s someone else’s turn and I personally know of several people who want to be pregnant right now and aren’t. And I think just knowing that makes me especially angry because why me? What am I going to do with another baby? Our house isn’t big enough. Our car isn’t big enough. And I have no idea how I’m possibly going to give five children enough time and attention, let alone, keep up with all the work that’s involved in taking care of a family of seven. And if that isn’t bad enough, why does Mark have to start having business trips now, when we’ll have five children in the mix and I can’t manage four as it is? And if that isn’t worse, why does Kathy have to leave me now, when I need her most, to keep me sane when Mark is traveling and to help me through the summer months so my kids don’t drown at the beach and bring me Cold Stone on the nights when having five kids seems almost unbearable unless you have a large dish of ice cream and a sister to watch stupid tv shows with? And now our pipes are clogged and our house needs painted and we need a bigger car and a bigger house and family reunion is around the corner and there’s just not enough money to go around. And honestly, I know things could be much worse and because I’m complaining they probably will get worse, but sometimes I just have to wish that I could click my heels three times and say “There’s no place like home,” and poof! I wake up and the house is clean and the chores are done and the kids have had their fill of attention and dinner’s in the oven and Mark’s home early from work and the bills are all paid and the home repairs are all complete and time would stand still, right there, forever. But life isn’t like that and the only solace I find now, when I have a day like today, is when I remind myself that no one ever promised us an easy life but that ultimately it would all be worth it. And I find myself clinging to that one promise like it was the last piece of chocolate on earth, rocking myself back and forth like a crazy lady, repeating it over and over, hoping that it’s true–really true.

Hunter brought his math homework home today. We told him he had permission to do his answers in numbers AND roman numerals if he wanted to. So he did. And written right across the top of the worksheet was “I love your Roman Numerals.” Hurray!

He also brought home a packet of “challenge math work” that was “special just for him because he’s so smart.” He protested when I told him he had to do two extra worksheets a day but once he got started he insisted on doing the entire packet in one sitting and he loved every minute of it. He can’t wait to take it back to Mrs. H and show her. And all I can think is, that Mrs. H is definitely a keeper.