Sunday..the day of rest?

My question this evening is..why are Sundays so dang hard? I hear over and over again how Sunday is the day of rest, and how it's a family day and how we should spend it doing quiet things like scripture study, baking goodies for the old lady across the street or taking nice family walks. Well?

Our Sundays usually go something like this: We wake up way too early considering we have 1pm church this year. So here's mom trying to keep the little kids quiet so they don't wake everyone else in the house up. Well, by 7:15 it's a lost battle...most everyone is up. Except for Jon and Kenna...they sleep in. Kenna longer than Jon though. Then by 10 am I have fed everyone at least 2 different breakfasts and some of the kids are already working on lunch. They think that with nothing else to do, no friends to play with and boredom seeping in they need to eat away their time. By 11 am I am desperately trying to get the last of the kids into the tub for church and trying to dry the clothes for the kids that put their Sunday clothes at the bottom of the laundry and I never got around to getting it done.

Then I realize it's noon and we still have lunch for several kids to get done, and sure as shootin neither Jon nor I has yet to shower. We argue over who gets in first (first one is the one who takes the kids who are ready to church on time. So, we both want to be in the shower last!).

Once we have all made it to church we start with Sacrament meeting. Now for those of you who don't know...it's an hour and ten minutes of sit still and be quiet and listen. Which non of my children are even capable of! So it's more of a fight of who has had a fruit snack and who hasn't. Whose turn is next with the markers and who is going to clean up all of Skyler's cereal off the floor. We have had kids crawl under benches all the way to the front of the chapel, Joe has thrown barbies around, Isaac and Abby play keep away from Lacie and Jessi laying in the middle of the isle with her blanket sucking her thumb. Oh sooo much fun!

If I make it through that meeting without falling apart once the closing prayer is said, then it's off to classes. I love this moment...off to classes...go away sweet children...you are somebodies else's problem for two hours.

If we make it through classes ok then it's off to home. The kids run to the car, run in the house, run to change their clothes and run right back to the kitchen...cause surely all that torturing of the adults in their lives for three hours has left them famished! I always make crock pot dinners so that the minute we walk in we can sit down and eat. Ugh...by now I am usually exhausted.

Mind you were not done yet. It's only 5 pm and we have to try to keep the kids happy for another 4 hours while we anxiously await bedtime! Bickering, fighting, rough housing, yelling and so on mark the hours and make them seem to just creep by.

Usually by 10 pm I am so tired that I sit and ponder this "day of rest". It's the hardest day of the week....surely! I have heard that someday I will miss all of this. I say ??????

Go ahead and laugh at yourself...

If there is one constant in the universe it's (aside from God), that everyone once in a while is just plain stupid. We all do those things that make everyone laugh at us, including ourselves...

I was walking out to the garbage the other day and as I walked back across the driveway towards the house (I was walking carefully...new snow and all) I did not see the sheen of ice under the light layer of snow on the driveway....and down I went. Down to all fours...right there in my driveway. Luckily it was early in the morning and I don't think anyone saw me. However, there have been times when several people have seen me. Like the time in the early fall when I was running to Kmart to grab an umbrella to take to Isaac's football game. It was raining and I did not want to sit in the rain. Now, Kmart has those wide yellow lines painted on the asphalt to mark where pedestrians walk...only they can get so slippery when it rains and snows. So there I am, 8 months pregnant with Skyler and talking on the phone to McKenna when poof...my feet went out from under me. Some nice guy and his kid looked horrified and rushed over to help me. I sheepishly said "the only thing that's hurt is my pride...". Wow...could I have felt any more stupid?

Another awesome moment is when I was at my folk's house for a bridal shower. I was standing at the top of the stairs looking up at my dad who was standing on the landing above me, talking to me. I took one step down and again...poof...my feet went out from under me and as I was in mid sentence I did the "ya ya ya ya ya ya" noise all the way down to the bottom of the stairs. My dad had to stretch way over to see me laying at the bottom of the stairs to say "are you ok?". I could hardly answer him through the tears of laughter...

Well, the thing I have come to realize is that no one laughs harder at these stellar "Julie Moments" more than I do. I have after a lifetime of making stupid mistakes learned to laugh at myself. Now mind you, it's awesome to laugh with someone else when they take the fall, but I think you reach a new high when you learn to laugh at yourself.

As an adult I have fallen off chairs in front of people, fallen down, slipped on ice, nearly hit folks with grocery carts, been talking to myself in the car when I realize that the person in the car next to me is laughing at me and so on. The key is to learn to laugh at yourself. We all do dumb things, we all need to laugh at ourselves for it....

:D

Hope...

I hope. That's one of the smallest sentences in the English language and yet it is one of the most powerful. Hope, in my opinion is the basis of faith. You have to hope before you can truly believe in something. I hope its true is a precursor to I have faith in something. Faith is a sure knowledge that something exists, will happen or is true. When a convert to the church first begins to develop their testimony I think it all begins with hope.

As to me and hope. I have always believed in the good. The good in people, the good in the world, the good in myself. I meet a new person at the grocery store, perhaps the clerk, and I hope they will smile at me, I hope they are kind to me while I struggle with several kids and a bank book that is always low on cash. Right now my hope is hinged on this year. It's a new year, fresh from last. It's like Father Times new day...the sun comes up everyday...Jan 1st is the sunrise on the new year. Most of us have hope at the beginning of each new day that today will be better than yesterday, or maybe even as good. This year is going to be better. Now, that's not to say that last year was a complete bust. It wasn't. It was just really hard in spots. Skyler was such a blessing to our home when he came and he completely has all of us wrapped around his tiny, chubby finger. However, it was not an easy year with him. His tests at primarys which led to his surgery. His constant colds and sinus infections (he was on antibiotics about 9 times last year..). Then his diagnosis of diabetes last July (on Lacie's birthday no less...). Then it was me...2 miscarriages last fall. Ugh....

That's not to mention all the sicknesses, Jon's bad knee, my ovarian cysts, kids teeth (several had to have teeth pulled), Isaac's broken hand, bumps, bruises, broken water pipes (including the main to the house that flooded Lacie's room) and so on. No...it was not an easy year. But I have to say that despite all that it was still good most of the time.

This year is going to be even better. Better than last just because I have decided it is going to be. The power of positive thinking and all. Or is it the power of hope? Either way its going to be better...

I hope this year is better...
I hope my family is well more..
I hope Skyler will not need another surgery...
I hope...

The lost one...

Well, its been a while since I last wrote and there's a reason for that. I have had so much on my mind lately its not even funny. I have had the gambit of emotions from joy and hope to loss and devastation. It's been one of the longest months on record for me.

In October I found out I was pregnant. I was so excited because I lost a baby in September. The miscarriage in September was sad for us. It happened so soon after I got pregnant that I hardly had time to get excited, think of names or plan for when the baby would come. I cried and reflected a few weeks and then let it go. I was looking forward to things that would come. So in October when I discovered I was pregnant again I felt so happy. Reserved, but happy. Jon and I go through a lot when we find out were pregnant. There are so many friends and family that love the idea and support us, but then there are those that don't much like the idea and are very concerned. Logically speaking it's not the sanest decision, but absolutely the most Christ-like decision. At least in my opinion. Adding another spirit to your home, can only bring joy, love, hope and happiness. I don't care how many are already there. Trust in the Lord...that's always been my motto and I try to stand by it.

Once November came we looked forward to the first ultrasound. I went in full of hope and excitement. As the technician rolled over my tummy with the wand I could see the concern in her face. She thought she saw two sacs, but not much in either one. One of the sacs looked like it might have hope for a healthy baby, and it was after all only 6 weeks into the pregnancy...so it most likely was just too soon to tell. I went home from that appointment very nervous, but still full of hope. We had to wait an agonizing 2 weeks for another ultrasound. So we waited.

By the time the next ultrasound came around we were getting pretty excited. We had taken the words of the tech from the last ultrasound and had all kinds of hope. Really...after 9 healthy pregnancies and 9 healthy babies, was there any reason to think we would miscarry twice in a row? Jon and I both went in this time and we had hope...again. As the technician scrolled over my tummy again my concern jumped to new heights right away. What looked like two babies the first time was obviously a baby and a bleed this time. The bleed was nearly surrounding the tiny baby and the baby really didn't look any different than it did the first time 2 weeks ago. There should have so much more growth in that time. My heart sank immediately. The tech was thorough, and although she could see a small fluttering of a heart, she could not pick it up. I was 8 weeks, the baby should have been much bigger and stronger.

We sat in the docs office with the results and the nurse quietly explained that things did not look good. We already knew that. However she said...we did see a heartbeat, so don't give up hope. 2 more weeks of waiting for an ultrasound was in store for us.

After only 6 days however the sadness truly began. I started to bleed. I knew we were losing another baby and my heart sank again. Could it go lower? I was about to find out. The next morning we were back in Dr Barneys office for another ultrasound. The blood seemed to have all clotted, but the baby had still not grown. This time however you could actually pick up the heartbeat on doppler...which was wonderful, but it was slow. Another sit down with Dr Barney came after the ultrasound and he brought us more bad news. The bleeding, slow heartbeat and minimal growth were all bad signs. It looked like I was going to lose the baby.

I cried all the way home, I cried the remainder of the day. I cried all night as the bleeding got worse and worse. By the next day I was hurting and bleeding hard and by that night I was in the er having another ultrasound. Jon was home trying to restore water to our home and Polly was with me. The technician was very quiet this time...no hope, no baby. The baby was gone, the heartbeat was gone, my hope was gone. I was hurting and tired that night and I don't think it really sunk in. I was given some morphine and some fluids and sent home. Then the truly hard part began. I took the ultrasound pictures of my baby before it died and put them in my bathroom cabinet. That and the positive pregnancy test are all I have of the tiny little person. I don't ever want to forget, forget how much I loved this little person months before they were even due to be placed into my arms for the first time.

The Lord gave women the most amazing ability to love their children. Not that dad's don't love just as much, they do. My sweet hubby cried with me after the 3rd appointment when we found out for sure we were going to lose him or her. I love my children. I have been able to love them from the moment that little plus sign showed up on the little stick. They are mine, they are a part of me.

That tiny part of me died this last week. Forgive me if I cry a little every now and then. Time will heal...time will heal...

The chaos it all is...

You know, with my life being what it is I sometimes forget that most people do not live with the kind of chaos that I live with. I am so used to it that it escapes me.

Just yesterday I had my 9 kids, plus 2 neighbor kids playing at our home. Some were outside building a fort in the snow, some were inside watching tv. McKenna was on the computer facebooking with her friends and Megan and her friend Alex were making cookies. Aside from a few bedrooms, there were people in every room of the house. I was talking on the phone with Polly and I tried to find a quiet place to talk. I started in the kitchen...well, there were like 5 other people in there so I wandered to the living room. 3 more people there playing Wii. My bedroom....Skyler trying to nap. Well, that leaves one of the kids bedrooms or the basement. I went downstairs trying to count heads while on my way down to see if mentally every one was accounted for so that the basement would be free. Alas...there was one person watching tv down there. Ok then...that leaves the laundry room...where I promptly went and plopped myself down on a pile of dirty laundry(there was no place else to sit!) and proceeded to talk. What's truly funny about this situation is that this is a common occurrence in our household. Sometimes I talk in the bathroom because it's the only free room.

Most people that are close to me know that the chaos comes with the territory. Lots of people, lots of noise, lots of things to do and people to do them with. Most of my friends and neighbors call knowing that they might have to scream for me to hear them and they will be interrupted several times by kids fighting, wanting ice cream and the door bell. Some are not so used to it though. Our poor hometeachers look completely rundown every time they leave our home. Some kids refuse to play here due to the noise level and some friends will only call or come by when everyone is at school so as to avoid the madness. Me? I am just plain used to it. It wouldn't be my home if I didn't have to trip on 3 people while trying to make sandwiches in the kitchen. It wouldn't be my home if you didn't have to search for an open toilet and hope there aren't toys in it when you need to go. It wouldn't be my home if you came by and got to sit quietly on the couch and chat without leaving with sticky pants and fewer objects in your purse than what you came with.

It is chaos, it is noise, it is ridiculous but it is all mine. I love it and when all is said and done, I wouldn't change it for the world......

most days.

The tides turn...

It's Christmas time and part of me wants to wallow in the joy, music, and beauty of it all. The other part of me wants to hide until January 1st. This part of me is the part that I am trying to desperately to rid myself of.

I admire other people that seem to love the season without reservation. Stress and all. Maybe it's because we have 9 beautiful little people that I want to give a wonderful Christmas to. Toys, electronics and clothes are not cheap anymore...not that they ever were. But it seems to get more and more expensive every year. Or maybe it's just that we have a new person to buy for every year....I don't really know. The only thing I know is that it's hard to go shopping with limited funds and filter out the really expensive stuff and try to get things they will love without spending tons of money. Sadly enough, this is what Christmas has become for me.

In years past it was so much more for me. The music especially was so dear to my heart. When I was in college I was part of a music group called LDSingers. We travelled around Utah performing for different stakes and loving every minute of it. We were always invited to come and perform at the Festival of Trees and that was one of our favorite times of year. We would hop on busses, in our dresses and suits and drive all the way to Salt Lake (we went to Snow college) and spend the day downtown, roaming the malls, wandering around the Festival, admiring the lights, and even hit Temple Square for some quiet time with the Christus. We loved what we did and we seemed to bring joy to everyone when we would spontaneously stop and sing where ever we were. I was able to enjoy the beauty of Christmas without having to worry about the stress and money of it.

So I guess the question is how can I get that back? How can I get my kids to see the beauty in it without always focusing on the gifts? I want to pick an angel off the angel tree and let my kids buy gifts for some cute little boy or girl who would not get Christmas otherwise. But that involves money. But I am still keeping that one in mind. Another option is Temple Square and the lights, and Nativity. Cold though, and Skyler and Colby seem to be sick all the time, I am not sure whether or not they can handle being out in the cold at night. I always play Christmas music, which seems to help and we always put up lights and the tree not long after Thanksgiving. But I guess what I am really shooting for is to be able to teach them to feel Christmas with their hearts rather than with what's in their hands. Challenging....to say the least.

Someday the kids will be living on their own, having their own Christmases with their own families and I know I will even miss the more stressful parts. I guess for now I should just glean from the joy they feel during the season. Their faces are wonderful to see when they see the 100th house with lights up and they squeal like it's the first house they had seen. I should glean from the joy that is christmas morning and the looks on their faces when they come out and see the presents and stockings that they know is for them. Warm Christmas cookies, gifts from friends and a constant barrage of Christmas shows on tv that all remind them of what is coming.

Try to become as a little child. I have heard that since I was a little child. I always think I know what that means, and yet it seems I am learning more and more everyday what that truly means. This year it means that I need to not worry about the money and just love the holiday for what it is. Beauty, celebration of the Savior, and joy in my kids. The kind of joy you can see in the eyes of those that truly know how to feel unadulterated joy.

Get ready for bed dangit!

So Jon has been working a 2nd job these last few weeks and I have been relegated to a single parent role. At least for the time being. Jon is so tired by the time he gets home he can't see straight. I am so tired I am sound asleep before the 9 o'clock hour hits. We both are trying to do what's best for our family but sometimes it seems that the right thing is the hard thing.

So the hardest part for me is bedtime. That's the time that we really need two adults here to direct traffic. Usually Jon takes the downstairs crew while I man the upstairs crew. This has worked for years and more or less it's what we do. There are a few crossover kids, like Colby prefers Jon and Isaac prefers me...but more or less it works.

Since Jon has been gone in the evenings though it's much easier said than done. I start with a prayer that goes something like this...
"Lord, please do not let me kill anyone this evening"
"Let me be patient with the onery child"
"Let me be kind to the kid that wants to call me names"
" And please don't let the neighbors hear me when I lose it and start yelling"

Now that the prayer has been said I start with the little kids...Joe down to Skyler. You would think Skyler would be the easiest but he's not. With the blood sugar, insulin, diaper, jammies, bottle and a little lovin he takes forever! I usually start him by 7:30 hoping to get his routine done by 8:00 when the rest need to go down. Now when he is in bed I turn my attention to Colby. He is not hard to put to bed but you need to realize that while I am working with Colby Lacie has gone into Skyler's room and is yelling at me that he is awake and wants out of his bed.
"Mom, Sky is awake and he wants out!"
"Ugh....Lacie....I just put him to bed...he hasn't even been to sleep yet!"
"Oh sorry, can I get him out?"

Colby is down after a few and then it's Jessi. She is easy and it only takes a few minutes to put her down. She is like me....too tired to argue most nights. So then it's Joe. As I try to get him into bed it stirs up Colby since they share a room and then both boys are begging for water and string cheese. Ok, they are in bed at least then I turn back to Skyler. I put him back down with another bottle because he did manage to drink most of the first. He screams at me this time cause he knows what I want and he does not want what I want. Ugh...

Then it's Abby and Lacie. Now, for the most part they are ok with going to bed as long as it's not before 9. Any time before 9....
"It's time for bed girls"
"But it's not 9 yet..."
"Abby, you have to be kidding me...it's 8:57..."
"Well, that isn't 9 now is it?"

They are in bed and quiet..then it's Megan and Isaac at 9:30. Isaac suddenly needs to get in the shower and Megan suddenly has a ton of homework, and not only that but she needs help. Can you say frustration? By 10 or so they are both usually in bed and Isaac is asleep, but Megan is not. She is not usually asleep until 11 or so...but as long as she is in bed, light off and quiet...at this point I just don't care!

Kenna puts herself to bed around ten and boy am I glad cause I just don't have the energy to put another person to bed except myself.....

Three hours and 9 kids later....bedtime routine is done. Yes, this is a nightly routine.

Everyone wants to be me.......NOT!