Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Caleb ate cereal today in his highchair. But about twenty minutes later he decided that he wanted to eat a waffle at the kitchen table with Denver. So, I popped an Eggo in the toaster and handed it over to Caleb and he joined Denver for breakfast. I can't say that I've ever seen Caleb more thrilled. I guess as determined as he is to stay little, he also can't wait to grow up and be like his big brothers. Just look how happy he is in the bottom (very blurry) picture.
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Monday, February 26, 2007
 
We finally got a real snowstorm and it was probably the most perfect snowstorm anyone could have wished for. The snow was wet and perfect for packing into snowballs and snowmen and igloos. And that also meant it was perfect sledding snow. But the best part of all was the temperature outside was right around 40 degrees so despite all the wet snow we weren't cold and could stay outside in the stuff longer. So we spent a good two hours in the snow this morning and then my friend Darlene brought her kids down and they took the big boys out for another two hours. What a fabulous snowy day. I even got my snow sundaes this year!
Anyway, while we were outside playing I thought, "God sure knows how to make a good toy." And the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced. Cause first of all--you never out-grow God's toys. Playing in the snow, swimming in the ocean, digging in the sand, climbing and swinging in the trees and jumping in the leaves anyone can do whether they're one or one hundred and it is always fun. Plus you never get bored with them because they are only temporary, always changing with the seasons. And yet, you know they'll always come back so you don't worry about saying goodbye to them. And just when you're thinking you are ready for something new to play with, the weather changes and so do the toys. And the best part is, the mess is always outside so you rarely have to worry about cleaning up or tripping over them or having them clutter up your house. And of course, they aren't just fun to play with but they are good for you too. Think of all the exercise and fresh air you get while playing with a toy God made. And even better than that--there's more than enough for everyone so sharing is hardly ever a problem. Gosh! Who knew God was such a great toy designer? Makes me want to throw away all the toys my kids are sick of and send them out to play in God's playroom a little more often. Afterall, today was the best time we've had in weeks!
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Sunday, February 25, 2007
Jericho just completed his first bottle--all four ounces of it. Justus did the same late last night. Part of me is disappointed. I wanted them to protest a little longer--you know, put up a fight, demand only breastmilk, insist that only I feed them. But they didn't. It's a good thing really. What would I do if they did fight? That would just make quitting even harder. But still. . . as ridiculous as it may sound, I'll never nurse a baby again and I'm terribly sad about it. I've always loved nursing my babies and the closeness and the little sounds they make. . . it will always be one of the little things in life that make it all worth living. At least for me. I'm sure going to miss nursing my babies. On the other hand, it will be nice to have my body back once and for all. After making and feeding three human beings in less than two years, my body needs some time to recover and I'm excited to get "me" back.
I also gave away my first bag of baby clothes this weekend. You'd think I'd be glad to start getting rid of the baby stuff and I am. But again there's a twinge of sadness mixed in with the relief. And as I sorted through the baby gowns and booties I had to stop myself from pulling it all out of the bag and saving it. . . just for memory's sake. I hung onto one thing--a pair of fuzzy blue pajamas that Hunter broke in and the rest of them wore out. I can hardly believe my babies are too big for 0-3 months anymore. When did it happen and where did the time go?
I guess I just wasn't prepared for all of these mixed emotions. I'm glad to be moving on and to be done having babies. But it's a bitter-sweet ending for me and the finality of it all stings the heart just a bit. There are so many things I'll miss. The thrill of feeling a baby kick for the first time. The relief of hearing a healthy heartbeat. The anticipation of that first ultrasound. The excitement of labor and knowing you've made it to the end. Seeing the baby for the first time. Holding their tiny feet and fingers in my hand. Nursing. The warmth of a newborn sleeping all curled up on my chest. The sweet smell of their necks and mouths. The joy that comes with each smile and giggle. I know babies aren't the only sweetness that life has to offer us. I'm just going to miss it and I really wish it didn't happen so fast. I wish there was some way to capture this moment in my life and keep it forever, just for those days when I need to cuddle a baby for a minute or two. That would be heavenly.
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Friday, February 23, 2007
I should have never complained. I should have counted my blessings instead. Because in just a few short hours after my pity party, I was stricken with the worst case of Mastitis I've ever had and Jericho started barfing. I thought things were bad but really. . . things can always get worse. Always. So I'm on an antibiotic and Mark's working from home and in just a few days I'll be weaning the twins and starting them on bottles, which at this point, they hate with a passion. And I really hope my breasts don't explode in the process. That would definitely be worse than a few sleepless nights and a little barfing. Definitely worse.
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Thursday, February 22, 2007
. . . and make me a man. I want always to be a little boy and to have fun."
 
Caleb has decided that he doesn't want to grow up and be a big boy. Taking naps in the infant swing and jumping in the johhny jump up is much more fun. And I suppose that's okay with me. I'm in no rush for any of my boys to grow up and be men. If I could have it my way they'd always be little boys and have fun.
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Tuesday, February 20, 2007
We've recovered from the chunk-spewing epidemic that recently plagued our humble abode and have moved on nicely to the stuffy-nose-sore-throat-achey-ear-and-coughing-fit disease. Denver filled several buckets with barf Saturday night and by Monday Caleb was prescribed an antibiotic for an ear infection. Hunter is so congested he can no longer speak normally and the poor twins are up all night struggling to eat and breathe all at the same time--not that they were sleeping before but at least they were sleeping some.
 We tried to go sledding this weekend. But unlike the rest of you that got snow, we got a giant sheet of ice and sledding was a very risky endeavor if I say so myself. I should have figured as much when I slipped and fell several times trying to make it up to the school but I guess I was too busy laughing at the boys trying to stay on their own two feet that I missed the red warning flags with "Do not attempt to sled on ice" written all over them. I have no idea how fast we went shooting down the icy knoll but it was frightening and thrilling all in the same breath. Every time I sent one of the boys down the hill solo the movie Ethan Frome went flashing through my head and all I could do was pray that they wouldn't meet the same fate as Ethan did at the end of the movie. Fortunately we all survived although poor Denver did ram his head into a tree and refused to sled again after that.
The weather took a turn towards spring today and I immediately shoved the boys outside into the fresh air. It was a balmy fifty degrees and the sky was clear and bright. Beautiful. Unfortunately there was nothing but a gigantic, half melted sheet of ice to play on and several muddy puddles. Caleb kept slipping and falling into the mess and all of the boys were begging for dry clothes so they could go back outside and play again. I really hate that they do winter break out here. What am I supposed to do with six boys in the dead of winter for a week? Especially when everyone is sick? We can't go sledding. It's too soggy to go to the park. We can't afford a vacation. The museums and arcades are all crammed to capacity (we've waited in line for the Children's Museum before--that's how crowded things get.) It really is dreadful. I feel horrible but I finally hit Blockbuster and rented several movies, hit the grocery store for discounted Valentine's candy and the boys have basically spent the days in front of the television playing Nintendo and watching movies. We're reading The Hobbit which stimulates their brains a bit and they managed to get a bike ride today. But seriously, that's it.
 The "babymoon" has ended around here and I'm terribly bummed. I lost all my twin weight and have started putting it back on again. I'm growing out of all my clothes at a most alarming rate but can't seem to find the time to exercise. I can blog and nurse at the same time. And I can clean and cook and eat with a baby strapped to my chest but I can't exercise with the babies in tow. I've thought about getting up earlier but after being up all night, getting up at the crack of dawn just isn't going to happen. And I could load up the babies in the stroller and strap one to my chest and chase Denver down the street on his bike but just the thought of such an excursion exhausts me. And the only way I ever lose weight is if I exercise and I'm feeling totally incapable. And my hair has started falling out and it finally got so thin and limp that I chopped it all off and while it looks really healthy I feel like a mother and not a sexy young thing and while being a mother is all good and noble, I miss feeling young and healthy and pretty.
The twins are trying to turn their sleep schedules around but the problem is, instead of sleeping more at night and being awake more during the day, they are just being awake all the time. And I'm exhausted and of course, I can't get anything done with three babies attatched to my hips. And Caleb has started noticing that my time is more scattered and as a result has started ramming himself into various pieces of furniture with terrible force and hitting himself and shouting "no" in his best angry voice. And it's become clear that Caleb is finally feeling the affects of no longer being the baby and I am doing a rotten job of meeting his needs for love and attention. And the sad thing is, the two things I said I never wanted to have happen (twins and have so many kids I couldn't meet all of their needs) has happened. And as much as I want to believe that their is a God and that all of this is part of His plan for me and my happiness, the truth of the matter is--reality is giving my faith a good kick in the pants right now and I'm feeling quite unhappy at the moment.
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Sunday, February 18, 2007
I was sitting in church last Sunday when I noticed that Noah still had breakfast on his face: a nice milk moustache, maybe cream of wheat, but only on one side. For a split-second, I actually thought about giving him a spit bath, and then remembered a dinner-time conversation I had several years ago in the George Q. Cannon Center. I am not sure, but I think it was quite possibly the same day Wilson Phillips sang about Turning the Truck Around. It was probably one of those excludingly offensive "inside jokes."
The conversation went something* like this:
Boss: Remember those spit baths we used to get?
Peanut: Eww Yeah. Did you ever get those?
Taffy: I hated those.
Boss: When I have kids, I am not going to do that, no matter how dirty they are.
(Boss takes a drink of chocolate milk)
Taffy: Me neither.
Peanut: I will try to remember to take wipes with me.
Mark: (Casually) If my kids get dirty, I'm going to spank 'em.
Boss tries desparately to contain both her laughter and her milk.
(*Details of this conversation may have been modified or ignored for legitimate storytelling purposes, or maybe thery have just been forgotten.)
I guess Noah was really lucky last Sunday, because Shana had wipes with her. (I was also really lucky cause I used the wipes to clean my clothes after holding one of the twins.) Actually, I have yet to spank any of the boys for being dirty, but it sure is fun to say: If my kids get dirty, I'm going to spank 'em.
What are some of your family gems? Share your short stories of family folklore and oral tradition. (Feel free to tale it here in the comments, or link from here to your own post.)
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Saturday, February 17, 2007
At present, Hunter, myself and wee Justus have the stomach bug. I thought I was better but I'm back in bed feeling like. . . well, you know. And Caleb is still not himself and I don't know how to help him. And Mark is still stuck in Cancun because of Jetblue and someone threw eggs on our Bessy during the night and they are frozen on hard. So you know. . . now what?
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Friday, February 16, 2007
Everyone thinks babies are beautiful. Their skin is so soft and flawless and wonderful. Unfortunately, not everyone thinks old is beautiful. But I do. I remember thinking "I can't wait 'til my eyes are wrinkly and twinkly and I have smile wrinkles around my mouth." I've always thought wrinkles show character. And wrinkled skin was just as beautiful as perfect baby skin. That is until I started getting my own. Now I'm not so sure I look good in wrinkles. But, I think my dear friend Cleo is stunning in them. It's hard getting old nowadays with so many airbrushes and editing tools around. Now everyone looks beautiful and perfect, even when they aren't. And it's hard always having perfect, perky twenty year old girls in your face. But getting old is inevitable and since I'm already headed that way, I hope I do it as gracefully as Cleo and look just as beautiful too.
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Wednesday, February 14, 2007
When Mark goes out of town, there's one thing I miss. Him. Not his help, just him. There's something magical about him walking through the door at night that makes everything (no matter how terrible it might be at that very minute) better. My heart skips a beat and my muscles relax and I melt in his arms and I have the strength to go on for one more day. He doesn't have to do anything except walk through that door. That's it. And for Caleb it's the same. When Daddy comes home, Caleb is okay. And when Caleb is feeling sick, Daddy is the medicine that makes it all better. There is no one else that can heal my heart the way Mark does. He is the love of my life. And I know, Mark, I've been a bear lately and you feel like nothing you do makes me happy, but I want you to know. . . I love you. And when you walk through that door each night, even though sometimes I give you the look of death, really. . . I couldn't be happier. And there's no thought scarier to me than the thought of losing you because what would I do, if I didn't have you coming home to me each night? What would I do without you? Happy Valentine's Day and. . . come home quick.
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Tuesday, February 13, 2007
They cancelled playgroup today because three idiots crashed their car into the local Target in an attempt to steal their ATM machine. The cops came and a chase ensued, resulting in a car accident near the same exit as our church building. The bad guys abandoned their car and set off on foot, trying to escape the cops. So, when it was time for playgroup, the church was surrounded by cops looking for three armed men. We decided a church building full of women and very small children with three armed psychos on the loose in the same neighborhood wasn't a good idea and cancelled it altogether. Now I'm just thinking the Relief Society needs to organize an Enrichment meeting and title it "What kind of gun should I buy and how do I use it to protect my family in these Latter Days?" I'm seriously thinking of getting one. A little pink one to match my new pink Razor phone. Either that or a pink taser. I just don't know. . . .
The rest of the day went alright. My friend Cami, and her two boys came over to play and the boys all got along pretty well. Then my other friend, Cleo came by and held the twins while Denver and I spent some much needed quality time together making sugar cookies. Of course, after the dough was all made I discovered huge lumps of what looked like dried up playdough mixed in and had to spend several minutes rolling out the dough and picking out the lumps. . . you know, cause juggling three babies and making cookies with a four year old isn't complicated enough.
And the oil man came and delivered oil, so we won't freeze to death should the predicted Noreaster blow through here tonight. That's a good thing, even if it did sink us almost $600.00. Last week I checked the tank to see how much fuel we had left and it still said we had 3/4 of a tank. I knocked on the tank because sometimes the gauge gets stuck and gives us a false reading, but no. . . it still said 3/4 of a tank. "Wow!" I thought. "We really have had a mild winter. Maybe we won't have to fill the tank until next Fall--wouldn't that be ncie?" And then I twisted the gauge a little and it dropped from 3/4 of a tank to empty in two seconds flat and I knew God hated me. But luckily Mark got an added bonus in his paycheck this week and it was just enough to cover the added cost of fuel this month. . .maybe God doesn't hate us so much afterall.
 Then I tried making this Valentine card with the boys for their teachers tomorrow. It looked simple enough but I just couldn't figure out how to get it to work. The directions were vague and with all six kids trying to help, I was getting frustrated. All I wanted to do was make a fun Valentine's craft with the boys but-- Caleb was sitting on the table grabbing everything and the twins were crying and Hunter was starving to death and Noah couldn't weave his strips of paper right and I couldn't understand the directions and aaarrrggghh! Then I figured out what to do and that we shouldn't have glued the strips of paper to the card. So we had to start over. And then, I figured out that permanent marker soaked through the cardstock and ruined the card. So we had to start over. And finally we got it to work. And it turned out awesome, especially seeing Noah's face when he made it work and he how thrilled he was with the final product.
So we had dinner and it turned out pretty tasty and bedtime was uneventful and I got the boys' Valentine's set out and decorated the kitchen for tomorrow's Love Fest and settled down to eat some chocolate and cuddle babies when Caleb started crying and I ran up to check on him only to discover the most disgusting, most potent barf all over his crib and body, head to toe. So I threw him in the bath and cleaned up the mess and cuddled him up and tucked him back in bed and returned to my chocolate and. . .barf! So I cleaned him up again and this time I took him downstairs with me and we just spent the past two hours sitting on the couch with my friend, Darlene, catching barf every fifteen minutes or so. He finally fell asleep but now, I can't sleep. I just know, as soon as my head hits the pillow he'll start crying again or the babies will wake up and want to nurse or someone else will barf or Noah will wake up for the millionth time tonight to inform me that it still isn't snowing. And I'll toss and turn all night hoping for snow and a school cancellation so I don't have to get up at the crack of dawn even though deep down I know it's so totally not going to snow here and I'm still going to have to get up in five hours and get the boys ready for school.
But despite the lumps in my flour and the gouge in my bank account and the crazy Valentine card and the barf, I feel really blessed. The cookies still taste good and we're gonna have so much fun decorating them tomorrow and Denver was sure proud of his cookies. And the boys have some great Valentines to share with their teachers tomorrow. And I have some really, really wonderful friends so that even though Mark is gone, I'm not alone and I'm not afraid and I don't have to deal with all of this craziness by myself. And we have money in the bank and fuel in the tank and a roof over our heads and lots of lovin' for tomorrow's Love Fest. Now I just need some sleep--do I even dare try?
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Monday, February 12, 2007
Jericho and Justus are three months old now. Practically three and a half months old. I think this is a little shocking to me because I remember when Caleb was three months old like it was yesterday and look how big he is now. I have a very distinct memory from my childhood. I was in third or fourth grade and desperately wanted to be able to get a glass out of the kitchen cupboard without having to climb onto the countertop first. Basically I wanted to be big. . . I wanted to grow. But I remember thinking it would take forever for me to get that big and I remember feeling like time moved so slowly. I don't feel like that anymore. Instead I feel like I'm on a carousel in fast forward and everyone is growing up much too fast. Slow down, I say. . . slow down. If I ever get the chance to design a person of my own, they will definitely come with belly buttons that also double as pause buttons. That way when the witching hour gets a little too hectic. . . pause. When a mother wants to go to the bathroom alone. . . pause. And when that very rare and quiet moment comes and that precious little cherub is snuggled in your arms just right. . . pause, just so you can enjoy him or her for a few moments longer. But until then I guess I'll just keep doing my best to put the rest of the world on hold while I enjoy these last few moments of babyhood before they're all grown and gone.
With that said, look how they've grown. They are beginning to be very aware of each other and it is so fun to watch them when they catch each other's eyes. They immediately grin and begin gooing and cooing at each other. They tend to take turns being fussy which is a blessing since I'm still not very good at juggling two babies at once. When they are in their crib together, they almost always find each other's hands and often calm one another by doing so. I've even noticed that I can calm them down quite simply by holding their hands. They have started finding their thumbs to suck and although I'm not convinced either of them are going to be thumbsuckers, I secretly hope they will be. The other night I went to get them up to nurse and found Justus sucking on his thumb. But the best surprise was finding that Justus had crammed his other hand into Jericho's mouth, who was happily sucking away on Justus's fore and middle fingers. Both boys are great smilers and have the sweetest giggles and can talk your ears off with all sorts of jibber-jabber. Oh, how they love to chat. They still aren't sleeping through the night but they are getting close, Jericho more so than Justus. They nurse and demand to be held between 7:00 and 10:00pm every night. Then they sleep pretty good until 3-4:00am. I feed them and they are good again until 6-7:00am. I honestly can't complain and can almost always make it through the day without getting even drowsy. I may need to separate them at night, because I think they try and nurse on each other and having someone suck on your head or nose or eyeball in the middle of the night is not conducive to sleep. That, and their flailing arms tend to interfere as well. But, I think if I had a twin, I wouldn't mind so much and would rather have another warm body to snuggle with (and suck on) rather than a good night's rest, especially considering the unlimited number of naps they're allowed during the day. So, I haven't had the heart to separate them yet.
Anyway, my friend Rhonda sent me this poem last week and while I think it applies to all mothers of all babies, I don't think I've ever felt these feelings so strongly as I do now. There is definitely a hullabaloo going on in our house and yard daily. There are many days and nights that we have no stew and our cupboards run bare and the house really is quite shocking but I'm afraid I wouldn't trade my babies for any of that to be corrected. I just wish it could last just a little bit longer or that time would stand still once in awhile. What will I do when I don't have a baby to rock anymore? Surely my heart will break.
Song for a Fifth [and Sixth] Child
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
Jericho
Justus
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Saturday, February 10, 2007
"Up next on Fox 5 News at 10, learn why parents of young girls are upset about a plan to protect against cancer."
Recently, Shana's friend JL posted this entry. The quote above was an actual NYC news teaser last night on the same topic: Gardasil. Like JL, I also was recently ranting about the prospect of Gardasil becoming a compulsory vaccination.
Gardasil protects against four strains of HPV (Human papillomavirus), of which there are actually more than 100 strains. Common warts are caused by some HPV strains, and about a dozen strains cause various types of cancers. Gardasil protects against two strains that cause about 70% of cervical cancer. The other two Gardasil HPV strains cause 90% of genital warts. All four strains are transmitted through sexual contact. I think it is interesting that Merck's advertising focuses only on the cervical cancer aspect: "O-N-E L-E-S-S. I wan-na be one less, one less."
(If only the makers of Valtrex, Viagra, or Cialis were as discreet or ambiguous in their advertising ...)
The vaccination requires 3 doses, at $120 each. Merck stands to make a pretty penny, and it seems they have already bet the farm on it. Prior to FDA approval, Merck expanded a facility to accommodate Gardasil production, which is now operating 24-hours a day. Perhaps a risky bet, but the jackpot is huge: an estimated $2 billion dollar domestic market, and the estimate for the annual worldwide market by 2010 is between $4 billion and $7 billion. Of course, markets of this size are much more likely, and will materialize much sooner, if states and public health agencies mandate the vaccination.
Merck is working to make that happen by bankrolling groups like "Women in Government" who in turn encourage politi¢ian$ to make the vaccination mandatory. It has already brought results in Texas, where the Governor has mandated through executive order the vaccination of girls entering 8th grade by 2008. I am glad to see that he made the provision for parents to opt-out on religions or philosophical reasons. Other states are also considering legislation, probably with some help and ¢ontribution$ from "Women in Government." Merck is also (unsurprisingly) advocating "gender-neutral immunization," that is, immunizing both males and females. While I see that would immunize the male disease vector, I can't ignore the fact that it would also effectively DOUBLE the sales opportunity.
An estimated 290,000 women die each year from cervical cancer. But that statistic, while tragic, is deceiving - it's a worldwide number. Within the US, medical practice for the past 50 years has been to recommend and perform routine cervical cytology screenings (Pap tests). In that 50 years, the number of cervical cancer deaths has been reduced by 70%, currently about 3000-4000 cases annually. I respectfully acknowledge that statistic is also tragic. But why the push for compulsory vaccination withIN the United States, if 98% of the opportunity and benefit are OUTside of the US? I guess the statistical opportunity does not necessarily coincide with Merck's financial opportunity.
While a compulsory vaccination may help to further reduce the cervical cancer deaths in the US, by bringing it to those who neglect or cannot afford regular medical care, so too would improving the standard of care for those targeted groups.
A few years back, US public health agencies were sold on the Varicella vaccine. (That's Chickenpox for the rest of us). I was recently discussiong with the school nurse the rationale for vaccinating against a disease, that, in my experience, is a minor childhood disease. Apparently, prior to the vaccine, about 100 people died of Chickenpox annually. In an 18-month period in 2003-2004, the mortality had been reduced to eight. Something seems to be working with the Varicella immunization.
Unfortunately not everything is working. The lifetime immunity I acquired from my minor experience with Chickenpox at about four years old, has not been repeated with the vaccination. Children, despite immunization at one, have been catching the live virus when it comes around. Tests have indicated that within 5 years of immunization, reinfection may be as high as 8% and loss of antibodies may be as high as 30%. So now there is a Varicella booster administered a few years after the initial immunization. Did the pharmaceutical company fail to adequately test the vaccine and its effectiveness prior to marketing? Were we too easily sold when someone said the magic "vaccine" word? Does a vaccine always need to be compulsory for it to be effective? Will the drug makers provide the boosters for no additional charge? Or does this merely turn 40 million vaccinated individuals into repeat customers? I was tempted recently to arrange a pox party during an outbreak at school.
I don't think giving my child a shot against an STD will cause promiscuity - but I don't think we ought to wholly embrace and swiftly adopt everything labeled "vaccine" that drug purveyors provide us with. For some reason I am not convinced that my health and well-being is always the primary motivator of pharmaceutical companies. On the other hand, perhaps it is time to buy Merck stock.
For the love of money is the root of all evil ...
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Wednesday, February 07, 2007
I bought this bar pan at the beginning of last year at a Pampered Chef party. I bought it with Pumpkin Roll in mind but during the party the show lady suggested baking bacon in it. I've had that bar pan for over a year now and Monday was the first time I tried her suggestion. But let me tell you--what a fabulous idea. The bacon turned out absolutely perfect. The house wasn't stinky. And, clean up was a snap. I don't know if you have to have a stoneware bar pan to have success with cooking bacon in the oven but it's certainly worth it. I just baked it at 350 degrees for about 30 minutes at the same time as I baked my potatoes and wah-la--Perfect Bacon!
I got this next handy tip while watching Sandra Lee on the Food Network with Denver. She suggested spraying your liquid measuring cup with PAM anytime you need to measure corn syrup for a recipe. Then all of the sticky stuff comes out, no mess. Well, we tried it over Christmas and sure enough, it worked. It also works great with measuring molasses, next time you get a hankerin' for homemade gingerbread men or somethin'.
Okay, you're gonna think all I do is watch TV but the truth is I can't remember the last time I watched an entire show all the way through without getting interrupted or falling asleep. But, this next tasty morsel comes from the Martha Stewart show. All you gotta do is cut a grapefruit in half and sprinkle about a teaspoon of sugar on each half, just enough to lightly coat the tops. Then, stick them under the broiler for a few minutes till the sugar melts and carmelizes a bit. Then you eat it. I'm telling y'all--broiled grapefruit. . . it's a good thing. And good for you too.
And last of all, an idea I came up with all by myself. This past week I made a bunch of homemade breakfast burritos. Basically I scrambled up a couple dozen eggs, fried up some sausage and then filled up some burritos with cheese, scrambled egg and sausage. I rolled them up burrito style and then wrapped 'em up in foil. Then, I kept them in the fridge for any morning I was in a rush and didn't have time to sit down and eat a real breakfast. A minute in the microwave and they're ready to go. And the nice thing is, they are packed with protein which means I don't even get hungry until 1:00-2:00pm. You can also freeze them and just add an extra minute or so when you microwave them. It's quite tasty and quick too. (I add a little salsa for some zip and I bet a little lite sour cream would be yummy.) They're great for Mark as he runs out the door to work and they'd be great for high school kids running out the door to seminary or the school bus. I'm definitely going to make more and this next time I'll try 'em with bacon, that I will bake in my oven.
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Tuesday, February 06, 2007
My Mom used to wake up at the crack of dawn and put on the music to "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" and blast it through the house. She'd whip up peanut butter toast and hot chocolate for me and my brother Joe and then sit with us and help us with our home seminary. I know I was cranky and moody with her on more than a few occassions and Joe. . . well, he just slept through most of it. But I never remember her being anything but happy and chipper. When I was even younger and all eight of us were still at home, she'd get the kids off to seminary, go walking with the neighbors, be dressed and ready to recieve all of her preschool children, get us sent off to school ON TIME, and plow right into preschool all before 9 AM. Again, I have no memories of her being grumpy or short with me. Just always happy.
In an attempt to be like my amazing mother, I have tried getting up early to do all sorts of productive things like exercise, fold laundry, clean the house and write in my journal. But every time I do, the kids decide to wake up early as well and that, my friends, makes my long days even longer and only aggravates me. So I don't wake up early. Nope. I lay in bed like a big lazy good-for-nothing until I absolutely have to get up. And then we rush around shouting at the kids to do this or that faster and almost always end up running up to the school only to be handed a tardy slip. And that's the way it is Monday through Friday, always.
Today was no exception except that even before I got up I didn't want to. I had a feeling it was going to be "one of those mornings" and I really wanted to hide under the covers and pretend it was still the middle of the night. But I forced myself up and got the big boys dressed and off to find their shoes. By the time I got downstairs we had fifteen minutes til it was time to go so I threw some toaster strudels in the toaster. Yesterday I made oatmeal for Noah when he really wanted Cream of Wheat. So I had promised him that I'd make him Cream of Wheat for breakfast the next day. Noah reminded me of that and even though he was severely disappointed, he didn't fuss. I passed out the strudel and proceeded to look over Hunter's homework. He made a mistake on one of the four problems on his math worksheet. The question was as follows: "For the drive you use crews of cowboys. One crew has 12 cowboys and the other crew has 14 cowboys. How many cowboys in all?" Hunter's answer: 39. The following conversation ensued.
"Hunter, what's 12 plus 14?"
"26."
"Then how come you wrote 39?"
"I thought it said you use your crew of cowboys."
"Oh yeah," I said. "How many cowboys do you have?"
"Eight."
"Hmmmm. Well, what's 26 plus 8?"
"32."
Then Noah, staring glumly at his strudel, in a depressed voice sort of resembling Eyeore's, says, "34."
The boys begin fighting over who's right and at that point I say, "No Hunter. Noah is right." Then being as impressed and proud as I can I say, "Good job, Noah!"
I sign Hunter's homework, making a note that we failed to do reading (thanks to last night's potato fiasco) and shove it into his folder. It's then that I notice Noah has eaten one bite of his strudel and it's time to go. I immediately lay into Noah about how he needs to eat and how he's got to stop waiting so long to eat and blah, blah, blah. I force Noah to take a bite and run to get my coat. When I return I give Noah another bite only to find his mouth full of the last bite. So we abandon the strudel and run out the door and the entire way Noah refuses to talk to me. Finally we get to the school and I threaten Noah that if he won't talk to me and tell me why he won't eat his breakfast that I'll take away his game time. He waits till our kissing goodbye point and then mumbles something about he doesn't like toaster strudels and heads off down the hallway to his class. I return home and head straight back up to my bed. I knew I should have stayed there in the first place. Instead I just added to Noah's miserable life and let him down once again. Phooey! If I'd just get myself out of bed a few minutes earlier each day Noah could have his Cream of Wheat and maybe, just maybe, the kids would remember their mother the way I remember mine. . . happy and glowing. . . always.
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Monday, February 05, 2007
 Notice anything weird about this picture, besides the fact that the kids are all facing the wall? Yup. They have their pajamas on inside out. The school nurse said that wearing your pajamas inside out would make it snow and as soon as the boys caught wind of that, they gave it a try. I tossed and turned all night long hoping it would snow for Noah's sake but did we get snow? Of course not. We got freezing cold temperatures but not a flake. Okay. . . I think Mark counted seventeen flakes but what good are seventeen flakes and subzero temperatures? You can't build a snowman or go sledding or have a snowball fight without snow and in subzero temps. That's just miserable. Noah has tried praying for snow and even did a "snow dance" the other night but we got nothin'!
 I'll tell you what we did get though. Stomach flu. Noah spent all night Saturday night barfing his guts out. I knew it was coming. The other day when I was buying my groceries online, they had Coke products on sale. I didn't buy any caffeinated ones but I seriously considered it because February is our most popular month for stomach flu and there's nothing like a good Coca-cola classic to soothe a yucky tummy. But when they delivered the groceries they didn't have my original choice and substituted none other than the Classic Coke itself. That should have been a sign. But Saturday while I was driving in the car I thought, wow, we haven't had anyone barf for quite some time now. And as quickly as the thought entered my mind I shoved it out, because I've learned that whenever I think anything even slightly nasty, it happens to me. Well. . . it happened and I must say, I'm really beginning to fear my own thoughts. And also, I'm wondering, why doesn't it snow when I think, Man we haven't had snow for awhile?
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Saturday, February 03, 2007
As far as first memories go for my kids, this is not exactly what I had hoped for.
A Memory: My Globe
I used to have a globe. Then we moved to CT and had a geroesh sale and someone bought it. I shouted at my mom and said, "Give me the money." And she gave me half. I was really mad at her.
So much for the warm fuzzies. But Mark did well. . . .
My Transformer: A Memory
"Where is KB Toys?" I said.
"I don't know." Dad said.
I saw it and told Dad where KB was. Then we walked into KB. We walked through the store. We looked at the cars and I didn't want any. We looked at the tracks. I couldn't afford any. Then I came across a big yellow car and it said Transformer. I said I want this car. Dad said ok. I bought Hot Shot. He was $2.50. And then we went to find mom. I always play with him.
For all Hunter knows, the money for that beloved toy might have come from the darn sale of his globe. But hurray for Daddy and down with Mommy. I have a feeling that is going to be the trend for a long time around here. Pink is so totally not cool anymore. I just don't get the "boy thing" quite as well as Daddy does. Let me illustrate. . . .
 This is Denver dressed up as Ben Kenobi. He came up with the costume all by himself. Not bad, if I say so myself. One night while I was explaining the costume to Kak over the phone she asked a good question. Why not Luke Skywalker? Why Ben Kenobi? When I asked Denver he explained that Ben had a hood and Luke didn't. Good enough for me. But what I wondered was, why Ben Kenobi? Why not Obi Wan Kenobi? Cause you see, I've never watched all six episodes and I thought Ben was Obi Wan's father or something. So Denver, a little miffed at his mother's stupidity, rolled his eyes and said, "Obi Wan is Ben. They are the same." Oooohhhh! But now, if it had been Mark, Denver would never have to deal with such annoying little questions and life would just sail smoothly along.
And that's just the way it is, I guess. I don't know how to transform a Transformer or the difference between a Decepticon and an Autobot. I think playing Barbies and GI Joes together is okay. And the only person I ever really paid attention to in Star Wars was Princess Lea. But someday I'll be important again like when their girlfriend is suffering from PMS and I hand them a can of Chocolate Covered Pringles. Then they'll think I'm cool again. I just know it.
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Friday, February 02, 2007
I have a bunch of photos I've been meaning to post but none of them are really enough to blog on their own. So, I've decided to post them all together and well. . . you can just look at them and whatever. . . .
This is Caleb. I don't know why I love this picture so much but he just has a tough guy, bully kind of look to him that I think is adorable. Don't you?
This is how we recycle trash in our home. Sort of. A few years ago, when I was a better mom and a little less spread-so-thin, we did something similar, only with dixie cups. The dixie cups worked alright, but these yogurt cups worked much better. We also cut up a plastic milk carton to make water slides and by the time we were finished we had a mini version of Great Wolf Lodge, complete with an ImagiNext treehouse in the middle. All I can say is at least Denver spent one day this week not sitting in front of the television. Woo-hoo!
All I can say is, when you have as much laundry as I do and as many babies, sometimes you gotta compromise. Who ever said there's anything wrong with carrying an infant in a hamper full of laundry? And, does Jericho seem to mind. I didn't think so.
Yeah. . . who knew turning eight was such a big deal? First he was baptized. Now Cub Scouts. Mark and Hunter have been plowing into getting Hunter's first badge and I have a feeling he'll have it by next week. We went to our first Pack Meeting last week and had a blast. Murray Clay did a fantastic job putting the whole thing together and except for the sled Hunter was sitting on, that the boys scouts were pulling in a race, that knocked over the table full of refreshments, everything went really well. We can't wait for the next Pack Meeting and whatever fun Murray Clay has up his sleeve.
This picture makes me really proud. Afterall, how many couch potatoes can you turn out in one blow. That's what I thought. We actually just finished reading Roald Dahl's Danny Champion of the World yesterday and as a treat, we watched the movie and ate popcorn together. I really love that book and watching how excited the boys get with each turn of the page. The movie was okay, but what movie is ever better than the book?
Today was the boys' one hundredth day of school. Last week Hunter was given an assignment to create a poster with 100 somethings on it. He chose candy hearts. I helped with the design but he did all the cutting, gluing, glittering, writing and counting all by himself. I think it turned out fabulous and he was especially pleased with the completed project.
Here's a closer look at the center of the poster. I thought that little snipet about love and counting was perfect and I insisted he include it. What do you think? Is it fabulous or is it fabulous?
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