Spiritual Puking

Hmmm...where to start. A couple of weeks ago I went to church and got a new calling. Didn't see it coming. Church ended and I took the 3 young 'uns out to the car contemplating whether I wanted those new Vanilla Creme Frosted Mini Wheats for lunch or left over chocolate chip cookie dough when my husband came running out to the car in a panic. "Amy, where have you been?" I was sitting in the car with 3 kids so I thought the question was a little reduntant but I played along.

Amy: Sitting in the car. Why? Where have you been?
Chris: We have an appointment with the bishop. Are you coming?
Amy: (blank stare)
Chris: I told you about it before church. Remember?
Amy: (blank stare)
Chris: They're waiting for us. Hurry.
Amy: Couldn't I just wait here in the car. I hate unbuckling all those car seats plus I'll just embarass myself when you get some calling that leaves me alone with the kids and I break out into one of those ugly emotional scenes.
Chris: (blank stare)

Anyway, the whole way into the church I was praying. Not the reverent, soft, gentle kind of praying but the real ugly raw emotional kind of stuff. I just knew my husband was being called to something that required nights, weekends, and me alone with all these kids after 6:00 p.m. We sat down in the office. When I say "we" I mean the adults. Jake and Matthew were jumping on the chairs and Hannah was crying, straining, and pooping. The bishop talked as loudly as he could and when he said, "Amy, we'd like to call you as the new primary president" I missed it because I was yelling at my kids. You think I am exaggerating but I'm not. He got no response so he tried it one more time and this time the room went absolutely silent. Those of you that know me know that although I can be awkward I am usually good at bluffing through the social scene. No. This time it was long awkward silence. I remember hearing the second hand tick on the clock and smelling Hannah's diaper. We all sat there. The bishop shuffled some papers and finally said, "Uh, would you like some time to think about it". I seriously don't know what happened after that. I remember Chris saying, "Are you alright?" and I asked him not to talk to me for a few minutes. I remember crying a little bit as we pulled into the driveway but that is it. All a blur.

I need to get to the best part of this story. Had some really amazing experiences choosing my counselors and secretary...amazing women with some serious combined years as former primary presidents, counselors, etc. (Didn't know this when I chose them but loved starting our first presidency meeting by saying "Well, if you ladies need any help with anything, you just call and let me know.") We decided to hold our first presidency meeting at my house and why not? Go ahead and bring the kids. I have 3, my first counselor has 2, my second counselor has 5 and the secretary has triplets. We ended up with 7 children under the age of 4 coming to my house to play. Presidency meeting started off with sippy cups full of juice and water and a couple of diaper changes followed by blood in the play room, a graham cracker disaster in the family room, a riot in the bathroom, and plastic dinosaurs stuffed in decor in my house where I didn't know stuff could be stuffed. I quickly ended the meeting and asked if anyone wanted to go bond at McDonald's playland.

Things went well for the first 3 minutes and then the first counselor's son came down out of the play structure to announce that the second counselor's son had just "spilled his stuff all over the playland." While we were trying to discover what the mystery "stuff" could be that he was spilling, children started pouring out of the playland tunnels shouting, "Barf! Barf! There's barf all over the playland!" and sure enough, there was her 2-year old son standing at the top of the structure staring intently at the floor. More chaos ensued. I really could go on and on...from trying to coax her son to come down to the children fighting to climb up and get a first hand glimpse at the "barf" to my 4-year old son asking me just what "barf" meant and if I could tell him all the other words people use to describe throw up. Yeah, its what my husband mumbled in my ear when I sat down after being sustained....Let the games begin.

World's Greatest Toy

When my son Jacob was little, we decided to go visit my parents in Houston. I knew it would be a LONG 4 hour flight so I decided to invest in a few new toys for the plane ride. At the toy store, I discovered this fabulous looking toy that just begged to be added to the toy collection. It was called a bumble ball. It is a round plastic medium sized ball with these spongy multi colored bumps that stick out. You push down this button on the ball and this tame looking toy goes wild and bounces all over the place creating a visual treat. It is absolutely riveting to watch and hilarious to play with. So I bought this innocent looking toy and packed it in our travel bag for loads of airplane fun. Well, funny thing about the bumble ball...it kind of looks like a bomb when it goes through the x-ray machine at the airport and really balls that bounce all over the place in a violent, gyrating sort of way aren't super fun on airplanes. Once we cleared security and apologized to all the terrified, irritated passengers sitting around us on the plane, my husband confiscated the toy and announced it would not be returned until Jake and I learned how to choose appropriate toys for the appropriate occasion.

The bumble ball hasn't been played with much...until tonight. Tonight I decided Hannah needed to be introduced to the world of the bumble ball. I was so determined that even hunting for the tiny screwdriver and some live double AA batteries didn't deter me from my quest. Batteries were in, screws tightened, and Hannah and I sat and looked at the ball in quiet (slobbery) admiration. Then came the moment of truth. I pushed the little yellow button and set the device in motion. It was pure joy. Hannah let out the appropriate squeals and then watched in slobbery fascination as I danced all over the room trying to catch the bouncy toy. The best part of the evening though was when I handed her the ball to hold. The vibrating motion of the ball shook her from head to toe. Her delicious chubby cheeks jiggled, her precious Buddha belly jiggled and the 3 amazing fat rolls on her legs went crazy. I couldn't stop laughing and kissing her all over. She just held tight onto that ball and jiggled away. I have never seen anything so funny. It made me love that bumble ball all over again. I am not exaggerating when I say it is the greatest toy on earth. Seriously. Go get one and live the good life!


P.S. I am having a real moment of truth...I just went to find a picture of my beloved little bumble ball and after doing my google search, I'm discovering that apparently my favorite toy is really a canine chew toy! Every site listed was a "pet" site. I swear I bought it at a CHILDREN'S toy store. But hey, I'm considering the doggy chew toy for my teething baby. Such a fine line between us humans and our "pets"!

The Repentant Blogger

I just went to post my last blog and realized it has been over a MONTH since I last posted. Good heavens. I had a few lessons I needed to learn this last month and have been busy messing up, repenting, messing up some more, repenting, and then trying really hard to learn my lessons. Here is what I have been trying to learn and why I haven't been blogging.

1) Despite the passage of years, I still hate science. I understand it better now but the bottom line is that it really just isn't all that interesting to me.

2) People with cracked heels and a lousy sense of balance should just save their money and not buy high heeled shoes.

3) Be leary of pedicures given in shady nail shops in Murray, Utah. And if you choose not to heed that advice, at least take ALL your prescribed antibiotics and don't assume that just because the infected sores have gone away, that the staff infection is all cleared up.

4) When your child wakes up in the middle of the night with a bloody nose, don't let him wipe it on the furniture in the family room before getting him a piece of toliet paper.

5) It is OK to say "no" to babysitting other people's kids...even if you have to lie about it.

6) It is OK to let a child that is not your own sit in a poopy diaper. When you have enough poop in your life, you don't need to take on someone else's.

7) PBS is actually EDUCATIONAL T.V. so don't feel bad if your children need to watch it all day.

8) Stop wishing away my children's childhoods...I'll have plenty of time to get to all the things I want to do someday...although I'm certain when that time comes that I will be sitting in a rocking chair wishing I had all those days with my kids back.

9) Do your visiting teaching.

10) Stop cleaning the house and just get on the floor and play with your kids. Your kids will never ever remember if the dishes were done all the time but I'm convinced they will remember every moment that you put them off because you just had to do one more load of laundry.

Anyway, these are some of the reasons I've been unable to blog for the last month. They all have fairly interesting stories behind them but I'll save those for another blogging day.

Infants and Therapy

Yesterday in church I was having a conversation with a friend where I started a sentence by saying, "Well, Hannah's therapist told me..." My friend passed through an obvious range of emotions before holding up her hand and saying, "Whoa. I'm sorry. Hannah's therapist?" Given that sweet Hannah is 5 months old and that I didn't preface "therapist" with "PHYSICAL therapist" created some confusion although the ensuing conversation convinced me that maybe we really should start our children in therapy when they are young. I've considered keeping a notebook of all the bad mothering moments I've had to save my children money on therapy when they are older. Instead of spending the first 10 sessions recalling all the horrors, they could just hand the notebook to the therapist and get on to undoing all the damage. I should insert a disclaimer here that really I do try my best but way too often I go to bed with all the ungraceful moments I've had that day floating around in my head. I adore my children...love them from head to toe but I always like to start conversations with people I've never met that are either considering motherhood or just beginning motherhood with the warning, "I'm not a graceful mother. I promise that whatever you witness here today is not a reflection on how it has to be. I like to do things the hard way."

Today my children and I all ate breakfast on the floor because I've removed all chairs and stepping devices from our lives to keep Matthew out of the cupboards.
Tonight for dinner my boys had Cocoa Pebbles with bananas, 1/2 a frozen Cotton Candy gogurt and a paper towel with a piece of turkey on it.
At the wedding reception Saturday night I actually told Jake he had to eat 4 more bites of his butter frosted cake before he could have the mints (as if eating the cake were somehow healthier than the mints).
Hannah went to church yesterday with her onesie hanging out the sleeves of her cute tulip dress and by the end of church I'd stripped her of her ruffle socks, darling shoes, and head bow because I couldn't stand how confined she looked.
I actually had a conversation with a mother today that went EXACTLY like this:
Perfect mother: Excuse my hands. They're blue because the kids and I were dying wool in the backyard today.
Me: Dying wool?
Perfect mother: Yes. We dye the wool in Kool Aid (Sugar free kind I'm sure) and then prepare the wool for knitting.
Me: Yeah, we watched 3 straight hours of PBS Kids today.
Perfect mother: (Polite but horrified laugh) Oh, that's why we don't have cable.
Me: Yeah, I only have cable to keep me from giving away my children between 3:00 p.m. and 6:00 p.m. every day.
(Awkward silence)
I could have kept my mouth shut but it just begged to be said. And don't think I haven't called my husband on his cell phone and told him he could stay at work as late as he needed but if he stepped in that door one minute pass 6:00 p.m., he would have to go pick his children up at the neighbor's house.

Yes, starting therapy in infancy doesn't sound like such a bad thing. Happy Mother's Day!