Primary Program Sunday

The best Sunday of the year is when the Primary (kids age 3-11) do a 45 minute program with singing and talking parts.  Some years you laugh until you cry and this year I did so because of one of my children.  Max sang his heart out.  And I mean sang as loud and boisterous as possible.  When he hit a verse he didn't know well, the song dropped noticeable decibels and when he came in on the chorus part again, your heart and ear drums soared.  It was the best.  

Zannah was asked to talk about a time when following the prophet blessed her life.  She told this story from heart, "President Monson has asked us to pray to Heavenly Father and have faith He will answer our prayers.  Last year I lost my wallet.  I looked and looked and couldn't find it.  So I prayed a lot and one day I was walking in my room and looked on my table and found my wallet!  Heavenly Father answered my prayers just like President Monson said he would."   My dad got a kick out of this story.  He asked Z how often she cleaned her room.  

Moody Max but He is Still Funny

Max is either going through a phase or a new baby is throwing him off because he has thrown some whopper fits lately.  But, he still cracks us up:

The kids were playing outside on a cooler summer day (72 degrees), Max ran inside and grabbed his winter coat.  I told him it wasn't that cold outside and he replied, "It is cold to me because I have black skin.  Black skin gets colder than your skin."

At my parents house, Max was overly tired at dinner time and refused to eat what had been made. We all kept asking him to eat it or pick something else to eat before bed.  Here were his replies, "I don't want to eat it, I just am hungry for food!!  I don't want anything to eat, but I just want something!"

Breastfeeding a baby every two hours triggers many questions for the kiddos.  Max was running out the door for swim lessons in his swim trunks.  He didn't have a shirt on, he turned around and asked if it was okay for boys to go outside without their shirts on.  I assured him it was.  He said, "But people are going to see my nibbles!"  Yes he calls them nibbles and after many corrections I have given up.

He randomly says, "Mom guess what?  I love Nixon with ALL my heart."

 

 

Sayings

Me: want to help me make Christmas treats?  I need a good stirrer.
Max: I'd be honored.  I'd delight to if I can watch a movie too.

Zannah was sleeping on our bedroom floor. I commented on a hair that I could feel tickling my nose but I couldn't find it and it was driving me nuts.
Zannah: Is it one of your chest hairs?
Marcus and Z laughed about that one for a good while.

Marcus, Zannah, and I were watching the movie "God is Not Dead".  Someone was not acting the way we think they ought to and Zannah said, "That is vile!"

Max (out of the blue while driving in the car):  Hey mom! Aren't you glad we have food and drinks or BOOM ENCHILADA you're dead!

Max (again out of the blue):  Mom, I'm so excited! One day I'm going to meet a really, really kind girl to marry.

Max to Marcus before he left on a business trip: When you are in Texas this week, if you eat anything yummy, could you save some for me?

Max After dropping a grape on the floor and seeing that Marcus was watching him: What? You know I like eating off the floor.

Metta yelling in the middle of the night "Marcus!  Marcus!"

Most of the time if you ask Metta if she needs to poo, she responds, "No Thank You"

If you say Hey Dude to Met, she says: I not Dude!!  I  Mettas!

I was having Max do some dribbling drills with a basketball. Mi told him once he got those down he can practice dribbling with his eyes closed to learn how to not watch the ball while dribbling.  He must have thought that when you get bigger that is how you play because he said: Yeah, when I can't see my teammates to pass them the ball because our eyes are closed I will just sniff them out.  I have a really good sniffer.

Day of Rest

A note from Zannah after we got to Church 20 minutes late because Max and Zannah fought over one specific notebook for that long.  We only have 89 other notebooks.  I lost my temper and screamed at them.  I would love for someone to tell me how to resolve these squabbles before I get to the point of blowing a gasket.
The note reads: You are mean.  But I still love you like Jezus loved all mean people, nice people, bad people and wicked people.  I love you.  Rite back.
Oy.  I feel most Sundays that when it was coined a day of rest, the fine print excluded anyone with small children.

For Crying Out Loud

Stop calling the cops on me.  We live on a relatively quiet street, one block from the elementary school.  The only time our street is busy is at school drop off and pick up times.  Maybe I'm living two decades behind, but I still believe in my kids playing out in the yard, riding their bikes up and down the sidewalk and you bet your buns, Zannah and Max are old enough to cross the street and play with the 4 kids who live directly across from us.

The picture above is what was going down in our yard yesterday when 2 cops showed up.  They verified a parent was indeed around and left. I was just relieved this year there were only 2.  Last year 3 cops knocked on my door because it was reported that kids were riding their bikes across the street.  The outrage!  The disgust!  Of all ridiculous things kids could be doing! Instead of playing mindless video games, or staring at the tube (which mine do plenty of), instead of texting or sexting, or face booking, these kids are outside making potions with dirt and water, swinging, riding bikes, playing soccer and football.  I wanted to handcuff myself once I really thought about the good for nothing job I'm doing round here.

I've narrowed it down to 2 possibilities.  Either it was just a concerned citizen who drove by or Mrs. Wilson, our next door neighbor.   The drive-by I guess could be an innocent, concerned person, albeit a lazy one.  Next time you want to do a good deed, start by knocking on the door yourself, or maybe just look around and see the grandparent standing on the lawn right across the street or assume the best as it is kids who are old enough to play in the yard unaccompanied by an adult.  Now, if my 5 year old is snorting crack, please call the cops.  

Mrs. Wilson is just crabby enough to do it.  In times past, such as when my kids were climbing her evergreen tree, or peering over her fence, she has come over and yelled at them herself. She didn't leave me out of the bum-licking either.  It doesn't make sense she would call the cops.  She has the guts to deal with it herself.  Although, I think she has a secret tiny bit of "like"in her for me, but I gather she doesn't give a flying rip about the neighbors across the street.  In that case, maybe she would make the call if it was mixed company.  

That's as far as my detective skills have taken me.  I have a blog in the works entitled "Bat Crazy".  It is a real life look into my bat crazy mom side. This takes hold after bedtime when kids are not in bed and I can't handle one more second of loudness and demands and basically seeing any person under 48 inches tall.  If someone were to witness that, then a call to the cops may be justified.  Otherwise, put the phone down.         

Unexpected

I have often wondered in my infertility journey how crazy awesome it would be to unexpectedly be pregnant.  Marcus and I comment how unreal it is that most people have you-know-what and boom they are preggo.  Even though our chances are slimmer than slim of a natural occurring pregnancy this girl has always secretly dreamed.  Many a month I have peed on a stick because I was one day late or just sure I felt nauseous. I stopped doing that years ago, because it was just too depressing.  Well, this past spring something happened that I thought would never happen. I took a pregnancy test and it was positive.  So I took about three more and that cute little plus sign kept popping up.  I was over the moon!  Marcus was having a hard time believing it.  I couldn't keep my mouth shut and called Charlotte and my mom bursting with joy!

What an unexpected blessing.  I had just set up an appointment to start the frozen embryo transfer process, we were shooting for a March or April transfer.  I felt like this was obvious divine intervention.  This was Heavenly Father having mercy on a stretched-thin, hard-working husband that had already paid a large sum financially and emotionally for 3 children and was willing to do it again on account of his pleading wife. The physical tiredness set in.  I loved it, it meant I was really truly pregnant.  The good sign of sickness came next.  

Of course I was scanning myself regularly.  First the gestational sac, then a visible yolk sac, but that tiny fetal pole didn't have a heartbeat.  I was right in the gray area, when it is normal to see a heartbeat and normal to not see a heartbeat.  I knew what it meant to not see that flicker within the next few days.  The next time I scanned it was obvious there was no heartbeat and the yolk sac was now an abnormal size.  I still had my hcg levels tested as it is hard to convince the heart what the mind already knows.  

The next month was the hardest.  I cried, I grieved, I didn't understand why it even happened? I became annoyed that I was still sick day and night.  I was frustrated that being pregnant was keeping me from doing the transfer and being pregnant. I was paranoid about when the miscarriage would start.  Would I have warning?  Should I get out of commitments and obligations? How painful was it going to be?   I went back and forth on waiting it out or taking the medicine to induce.  Four weeks later, I finally made an appointment to take the medicine.  Literally hours before my appointment I finally miscarried on my own and it wasn't as hard as I imagined it would be.  

I am stubbornly learning and re-learning to accept Heavenly Fathers plan for me.  I still don't have a clue why it happened.  But it sure was fun to experience a spontaneous pregnancy while it lasted.  The same peace and comfort came that I felt with our failed in-Vitros.  A very strong reminder that I need to keep submitting my will to His.  I'm thinking it may be a life long challenge for me.  

The Fourth of July 2015

 Marcus lifted us up onto the roof of the warehouse with the forklift to watch the fireworks.  I did not condone this stunt, it was scary, but all ended safely and it was fun up there.

 Chips and Dew.

Sparklers.  It was as fancy as we got.