TheHenrichsens.com

I tried taking pictures of the twins cause, you know. . . it’s been awhile. And as soon as I started I remembered why I haven’t tried taking pictures of the twins for awhile. They would not hold still. And Caleb didn’t help much either. So this is the one and only decent picture I managed to shoot. Can you tell who’s who?

All the rest of the decent pictures looked like this. . .

and this. . .

And I’ve come to the conclusion that for the next twelve months or so this is all I’m gonna get of the twins–the twins eating and the twins sleeping–because other than that they won’t hold still. . . for anything!

So Caleb and I were happily making cornbread to go with dinner last night. Everything was running rather smoothly considering the time of day it was and we were thirty seconds from putting the cornbread in the muffin tins and 18 to 20 minutes away from eating dinner. Then the twins teamed up and decided they wanted Caleb’s silkie and as Caleb bent down to defend his poor blanket from being dragged off and drooled upon by Team J he lost his balance. In an attempt at stopping his fall, Caleb grabbed hold of the bowl of cornbread and pulled it down on top of his head and both went crashing to the floor. Now we were no longer 18 to 20 minutes away from eating dinner. Now we were one bath, one major cleanup, two fussy babies and another batch of cornbread plus 18 to 20 minutes away from dinner. And I wonder why I’m so exhausted at the end of every day.

So Tuesday while the kids were outside playing in the Bounce-A-Round Hunter decided to break one of the rules and was laying over the top of one of the sides practically tipping over the entire castle. Normally it wouldn’t be a big deal but the twins and Caleb weren’t so far away and you can just imagine the catastrophe that could have taken place. So I insisted he get out immediately and as he climbed out (very reluctantly I might add), his pump got snagged on something and the entire tube snapped off. When he showed me the results, I told him it was no big deal, we would just have to change his site. That made him particularly upset because he then proceeded to chuck his brand new pump onto the porch swing I was sitting on and scream at me about how it was all my fault and we just changed his site and he wouldn’t let me put a new site in and blah! blah! blah! Again, big deal if he wants to throw a stupid tantrum right there in the middle of the yard where the entire neighborhood can see him, but that is a brand new insulin pump and I don’t have $5000.00 to replace it. So I told him he lost GT (game time) for the rest of the week which of course didn’t go over well.

In an attempt to maintain my composure and resist the very strong urge to beat the kid, I called Kathy and told her to make it all better because I just couldn’t possibly deal with it any longer. So I threw the phone to Hunter and he started strolling across the yard chatting to his beloved Aunt Kathy. A few minutes later he came back with a huge grin across his face and a sparkle in his eyes. Whatever. . . at least it was all better and we could move on. Kathy called a little later that day and Hunter hid around the corner to chat. And once again, he returned with his shirt over his mouth, desperately trying to hide the smile. I wondered what they were up to but Hunter wasn’t telling and I didn’t have the energy to pry.

So yesterday we had Scouts and after being sick for six days with a relentless stomach bug there was no way I was going to come home and make dinner. So I told the boys on the way to Scouts that we were going to pick up McDonalds for dinner. Hunter started wondering if we could have Burger King instead and trying to decide who had the better Happy Meal toys. After a five-minute pause Hunter randomly said, “Don’t make dinner whatever you do.” Hmmmmm. . . . Another phone call to Aunt Kathy with Hunter curled up in the corner of the car, confirmed that I should not make dinner, nor should I buy McDonalds but we should go home from Scouts immediately and not dawdle. So that’s what we did and not too long after, Boston Market showed up at our door with two huge bags of food and a caterer to set it all up for us. We had potatoes, meatloaf, mac-n-cheese, cornbread, green beans, more potatoes, chicken noodle soup, coke, cookies and even more mashed potatoes. I don’t think I’ve seen more food since Thanksgiving. Hunter was grinning from ear to ear and asked us all who we had to thank and while we all graciously thanked Hunter for his great secret surprise, only I know the real people that need thanking. So, to Kathy and Mom and Dad, I say thank you so much. What a much needed and even more appreciated secret surprise for one absolutely exhausted and completely wiped out Mommy.

Okay, so I don’t usually share my dreams because I find other people’s dreams particularly boring and don’t think anyone would be so interested in what’s going through my head while I sleep. But I had this dream the other night that was so psycho weird that I just have to share. I think you’ll find it rather hilarious.

So Mark was out trimming the hedges, which in the dream, were quite enormous. He had trimmed quite a few branches back and in the process had discovered several birds’ nests with several hatching eggs inside. We all ran outside to see the nests and I immediately fell in love with one nest in particular. There were two baby birds in the nest laying their heads on the edge of the nest with big black eyes staring up at me. So, I took the nest and carried it into the kitchen where I was planning on taking a few pictures of the adorable little guys. I pulled out the camera and scooted in close to get a good shot when all of the sudden I realized they weren’t baby birds but rather baby squirrels. As fast as I realized my mistake, the squirrels started running around the kitchen with these giant, gaping jaws full of enormous razor-sharp teeth biting at my ankles. Completely panicked at this point, I grabbed the closest container I could find and started chasing the little horrors, trying desperately to catch them and return them outside. Finally, I slammed my little square tupperware over one of the baby squirrels and I was pretty sure I’d caught one. But just to be sure, I peeked under the plastic only to find the baby squirrel squished completely flat and steaming like it had just been run over by a Semi in some horror movie. That’s when I woke up.

So now you tell me–what the heck was that all about? My analysis goes something like this. My reaction to the nests and the baby birds was my view of children before I gave birth to any of my own. And the baby squirrels running around the house, terrorizing me and biting my ankles is my view of children now that I have six of them and I can’t seem to contain or control any of them.

We had a pretty nice weekend, despite the fact that Jericho and Justus still aren’t better and I’ve joined the ranks of crampy stomachs and severe diarrhea. I don’t think I’ve ever had such an upset stomach and such a long lasting one either. But fortunately no one else has come up sick and I’m praying it stays that way. This is one tummy bug we really don’t need to share. Anyway, because I didn’t want to wander too far from the toilet, we spent most of the weekend at home. It was chilly enough that we turned on the heat and I decided it was time to pull out the gazillion boxes of boys’ clothes from the basement and figure out who fits what for the Fall. This is a gigantic task and took the entire weekend to do. Plus, I still have one more box to sort. But I got it most of the way done, and washed even. Now I’ve just got to put it away. The kids played nice the entire weekend and when I finally got my mess cleaned up the boys enjoyed jumping off the boxes into a giant pit of pillows and blankets (Click Here to see the video), one of their favorite pastimes when I let them. We also had a fire in the fire pit and roasted marshmallows until Jericho barfed all over the exersaucer. And Mark managed to pull out all of the bikes and trailers and toddler seats and take us all on a really nice bike ride to a nearby school playground, that thankfully had a really clean port-a-potty, because I wasn’t the only one that ended up being in desperate need. But all in all, we had a really nice lazy weekend with absolutely nothing planned and it was really, really wonderful. I think sometimes I feel like a bad mother for not having more things planned for the family to do on the weekends. Sometimes I feel like we have to do something fun together as a family every weekend or the kids will grow up and hate me and spend their entire lives with psychologists trying to figure out what’s wrong with themselves. But this weekend was so relaxing I’m already hoping another one just like it comes again soon, despite the emotional costs my children may have to pay. (By the way I’m kidding about the emotional cost stuff, no need to lecture me on how I’m doing a great job and giving my kids a great life. I got it already.)

So lately Caleb has become quite the fighter. If he doesn’t like something, he’s sure to let you know. The other day we were watching his “Train TV” together and there’s this particular part where the trains tip over and things fall down and the narrator of the film exclaims “Oh No” repeatedly. Trying to be funny, Caleb’s older brothers taught Caleb to say “Oh Shoot” instead. This would be fine except that when Caleb says “Oh Shoot” it sounds more like a curse word. So we’ve been trying to get Caleb to say “Oh No” again. So back to the Train TV. . . Caleb and I are watching and the “Oh No” clip comes on. And I start exclaiming “Oh No” and Caleb starts exclaiming “Oh Shoot” and pretty soon he’s yelling at me in a high-pitched voice something about “oh no” and “oh shoot” and trains with a lot of jibberish inbetween. This is just one example. His fighting is not reserved for the Train TV or me in particular. He’ll fight with anyone, anywhere, about anything. And while it’s not so funny listening to his high-pitched rantings, he sure is cute when he does it. See for yourself by clicking here.

For those of you who have been scratching your heads and wondering where my “Woes Me” post went, I deleted it. My sister Chris mentioned a few weeks ago that my posts were all sounding a bit depressing lately and after an hour or so of thinking about it, I decided to delete my post. I’m not depressed. I’m actually better than I’ve ever been, not to be mistaken with thinner. I’m not thinner than I’ve ever been. But I’m happy. Really trully. But my life is hardly fun and exciting and fulfilling right now. Every day is just a struggle to stay afloat, to stay on top of things, to keep up with the kids and all the crazy things that they throw at us (or throw up on us for that matter.) And I guess when I blog about it all, I sound depressed. Plus, I don’t want to be whiney all the time and I feel like that’s all I do lately. So after I removed that post I made cookies with Caleb and Denver and did a lot of thinking and two things made me feel better. First of all, last night the boys and I read chapters 3-5 of Junie B. Jones and the Yucky Blucky Fruitcake, which were particularly hilarious. I’m not sure if listening to all three boys laugh hysterically or the fact that Junie and I have a lot of the same terrible luck but, something about that twenty minutes of reading and laughing with the boys made me feel better.

And then I thought about a conversation my sister and I had a little while back when I was struggling as usual and said something about God hating me. And surprisingly, instead of trying to convince me that God doesn’t exsist she said, “No. . . life is just hard.” And she has all sorts of reasons to think God hates her but she was right. God doesn’t hate us. Life really is just hard. And then I thought, You know what? Maybe instead of feeling helpless and feeling like God is just picking on me, maybe I could try praying and asking that the kids don’t all get sick while Mark is away. And maybe I could ask that the days go by fast and that the nights will be peaceful and that my burdens will be made light. And perhaps if I have enough faith, maybe. . . just maybe God will hear me. And somehow just that simple thought was enough to ease my burdens and give me the strength to face a week without my secret weapon. (Of course it helps that Mark read my post before I deleted it and came home with an extra pound of patience and understanding in his pocket but my faith in God helped too.)

So I’m sorry if I confused any of you by deleting a post but I guess this is more like the stuff I want for my kids to read than a daily play-by-play of all their puking and my boo-hooing.

Sunday afternoon as we headed over to a friend’s house for dinner, Denver’s zipper broke completely off. Denver was terribly distraught and worried that everyone would notice and make fun of him. I assured him that no one would even know and that he didn’t need to worry about it. Then, Mark said, “Yeah, nobody even cares about zippers except for dogs.”

Denver seemed convinced except for one last question, “Do the Nelsons have a dog?”

“Nope. They might have a cat but they don’t have a dog.” Mark had been there before to help bail out their basement and was sure there was no dog but he thought maybe he’d seen a cat. And the boys love cats so pretty soon the zipper was forgotten and all sorts of memories about Grandma’s cat, Zeke and Melanie’s cat, Natasha dominated the kids’ conversation.

So we arrived at the Nelson’s and enjoyed a fabulous dinner of Paella and Tortilla. The kids ran off to play and we sat around chatting for quite some time. Then we wandered outside to swing with the babies and let Caleb run around a bit. One by one the kids trickled out and that’s right about when Denver met Max–the Nelson’s German Shepherd. We didn’t know they had the dog until we entered the back yard. And unfortunately for Denver, we couldn’t see who was coming out the back door when they were coming. So there was no way to warn Denver about the dog and no one to distract Max. So when Denver entered the backyard, Max pounced and Denver grabbed hold of his zipper and let out a yelp and started running. Fast! I haven’t laughed so hard in a long time and poor Denver–He’ll probably never like dogs, or zippers for that matter, ever again. I just wish I could have heard what was running through Denver’s thoughts at that very moment.

So Saturday was a really bad day and I’m sorry about all of the complaining I do, but there’s something about barfing it all out on paper (or rather the blog) that always makes me feel much better. Sunday was a much nicer day and today, I actually have all three babies asleep and have at least an hour or two all to myself. Imagine that! There are so many things I want to do, I hardly know where to begin. Should I paint my toenails, scrapbook, read one of the million books on my “really want to read” list, fold the laundry, edit the endless number of pictures I have stored on my computer so I can print them, clean the house, take a nap–oh, what to do? I suppose after I finish blogging I’ll fold the five baskets of laundry stacked in various corners of my house and try putting it all away and maybe mop the kitchen floor. That way when all the kids are in bed tonight all I’ll have to do is read and sleep and snuggle into Mark’s side and that’s a perfect way to end any day.

So first of all, Barry the Bear has gone back to school, much to my relief as well as the boys. I really didn’t know he was coming home this weekend and we really didn’t have anything planned. And I’m just the kind of mom that won’t let my kids write “we did nothing” in a journal that every other parent in their class is going to read. Oh, the shame! So, with a little bit of creativity we had some fun with Barry and Denver was totally excited to go to school this morning and tell his entire class about Barry and all the mischief he got into at our house. Saturday morning we found Barry hiding in one of the kitchen cupboards eating our honey. Sunday morning we were startled to find Barry sitting at the kitchen table coloring a beautiful picture of himself and Denver. And this morning around 2:00am Denver wandered downstairs to find Barry sitting on the couch all wrapped up in a blanket, eating popcorn and watching TV. Even Hunter and Noah were surprised by all the mischief Barry was getting into and all three of them were constantly trying to guess what he’d get into next. It really was fun for all of us and I wouldn’t mind having him come again. But I definitely think next time Barry’s parents should send a permission slip home first or at least give us a heads up that he’s coming. I mean really, my bathrooms were hardly clean enough for guests and next time I should probably do a little “bear proofing” first.

On a completely different note, last week Denver and I were watching the Food Network together and we saw Paula Deen make these really cute chili bowls with some Bisquick. So I decided, since we had chili in the freezer (I used my own and not Paula’s Five Alarm Chili) and refrigerated biscuits in the fridge, to give it a try. So I smooshed the biscuit dough onto the muffin tins turned upside down. And while they baked I thawed the chili and grated some cheese and wa-lah! Dinner. It was super simple and totally kid friendly and if I could I would hug that Paula Deen right now. Even the twins were eating the biscuit bowls and the chili and it literally only took ten minutes to throw the entire dinner together (minus the tossed salad I made to go with it.) Anyway, if you’re on a $60/2 week budget like us and you have to feed a bunch of nitpicky kids, chili is like your best friend. You can have chili one night, baked potatoes and chili the next, chili dogs the next, and chili in biscuit bowls the next. Perfect! Okay, well not totally perfect. I mean you’ll probably need to throw in Raman noodles and Tomato Soup with grilled cheese sandwiches to mix things up a bit, but still, you know what I mean. What’s cheaper than a bunch of beans, a few tomatoes, some hot dogs and some potatoes?

Justus was up from 3:30-6:30am. This new school schedule is so totally kicking my butt. I’m up at 6:00am and don’t get back to bed until 11:00pm, sometimes midnight by the time the dishes are done, the laundry is flipped, and the backpacks are packed. So this morning I just wanted to sleep. Instead I was rocking a baby until 5:00am when I passed the buck to Mark. And then, Caleb was up bright and early at 7:00.

We went to pick raspberries but they were clean out. Not enough rain this summer means not enough raspberries to make homemade jam. Denver has this Barry Bear home for the weekend and we’re supposed to take the bear to do something fun and then write about it in the Barry Bear Journal. So we were going to pick raspberries and make jam and let Denver and Barry take some to school for Mrs. W. But there were no raspberries. So what are we going to write about now? Barry spent the rest of the day packed in the backpack he was going to pick raspberries in and Denver played Nintendo all day.

Since we couldn’t pick raspberries I decided to go to Old Navy and Gap to see if I could find a pair of jeans to cover my enormous rear-end. Denver insisted on going with me. So we hit Gap and I found these great jeans but they were clean out of my size. Then Denver convinced me he was so dehydrated he was about to shrivel up and blow away so we went and picked him up an apple juice. Then we hit Old Navy and after a little while Denver asked if he could play Nintendo when he got home. “After you practice piano” was my response. To which Denver responded with a full on tempter-tantrum. These tantrums are new since school started and I’m assuming they are caused by lack of sleep. Whatever the cause, he started hitting me with his juice bottle, refusing to come with me, throwing his visor across the store, and the grand finale–flinging his juice across the store where it burst open and spilled down the entire main aisle. Thank you Denver.

We signed the boys up for piano lessons. Mark has tried teaching them and he’s done a great job, really. But, it’s hard to be consistent and even when he is, the boys don’t pay attention. So there’s this really great young man in our ward who teaches lessons and we decided that it was worth the money to sign the boys up with Derek. So, Derek comes to our house once a week and Hunter, Noah and Denver have lessons. Since we’re actually paying money for these lessons that means the boys actually have to practice. And that means I actually have to sit with them and make sure they practice the right way. And that means even more time out of my already hectic schedule fighting with the boys who don’t really care if they can play the piano or not. And that means all sorts of tempter tantrums today that I won’t bore you with all the details.

We signed the boys up for piano lessons before we realized we only had $60 to buy groceries with. But hey! The mortgage is paid. Or rather the interest. Only. Have I ever mentioned we can’t afford to live here? And no. . . I’m not moving to Utah, thank you very much!

The windows and cabinets I washed yesterday are covered in fingerprints again today.

And despite knowing that I was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, Mark still took six hours to run his errands. Given, he was doing the grocery shopping for me and picking up my jeans from another Gap store, but still. Six hours! And of course, the babies only napped for him while I was out at Gap dodging Denver’s apple juice. While he was gone I had all three babies, for all six hours, so wired I’d almost bet you Mark gave them all Coke in their bottles.

And after a day like today I just want to quit. This is nothing like the “bliss” my mother made it look like. And the enormous amounts of “joy” they promised us in Young Women’s is more like a trickle, if that. It’s just plain slavery. You couldn’t pay another person enough money to do what I do. And the sad thing is, despite how desperately I really do want to quit and move to Madagascar, you and I both know I never will. And that makes it that much easier for everyone and their dog to make me their big, fat doormat.