A good start

Some mornings when I wake up the fog is thick over the lake in the backyard. The sun is so bright that you really can't see much. It's hard to tell where the water ends and the woods begin. You can't see the usual wildlife going about their business. It's hard to pick out much of the landscape I have come to know so well. Which keeps me from thinking too specifically about anything. Just a thick misty bright atmosphere surrounds you. I like to just sit there and feel the warm sun and be overwhelmed by light. Being enveloped by this first thing in the morning is almost a guarantee that your day is going to be terrific.

I took these pics from my back yard. OK, fine- I had to open the gate and go into the gators yard to take them. But don't worry, I've never known them to be early risers. They don't get out of pond until after 8. Lazy monsters. Apparently their babies don't wake up abominably early. Maybe if I had 80 sharpened chompers in my boca (with 5 sets of replacements available) my kids would sleep in too. Those are accurate facts, by the way. You know these things when your all your childrens' pictures have real alligators in the background.

I was telling Braden that seeing water out my windows while I eat breakfast makes me feel rich. Does it matter that it's actually a drain off swamp full of reptiles, or that I actually don't own this house? Nope, not at all. Feel like a million bucks, every day. It's good that it's just a feeling and not reality, because you don't have to pay taxes on a feeling. Yet.

If Braden wore a lilac sundress...

...this is what he'd look like.

Seven months for the Maisonator

This weekend was Maisey's seven month birthday. I informed Braden of this, along with the information that I bought her a new cupcake shirt to celebrate her day. I watched him roll his eyes at me and ask in a disbelieving voice if I was serious, hoping that I was not not. It's not like I ordered clowns and a carousel or anything, sheesh, what's the big deal?

I purposefully withheld the part about finding a stack of onesies at a yard sale for a quarter, which she needed anyway due to the fact that her bowels somehow defy gravity. And since one had a cupcake on it I could't resist scaring him for a second that I was becoming 'that mom'. The one who spends exorbitant amounts of money, thought, and effort on stuff the child has no idea is happening.

He can make fun of me all he wants, I do believe that seven months is cause for a celebration. I mean, she's been through a lot in the last 200+ days.

Her sisters are living proof that love hurts. I really believed in the beginning that Maisey was a sort of novelty and that as time wore on, the girls would lose interest, at least a little. Oh, contrair. I thought that after telling them 39 times a day to be soft with her that they would grasp the concept of 'baby'. Instead, I find they are increasingly taking greater liberties with her life as they see her getting bigger and now put her on equal playing ground with themselves.

Recently I noticed a ring of scabs on the back of Maisey's head which encircled a bald spot. I wasn't sure what to think of it. Until Anabelle asked me to lay Maisey on the floor by the table as she was sure Maisey would want to watch her eat breakfast. I did so, and went to start a load of laundry. When I returned, Maisey was on the opposite side of the room. I wondered aloud if she had really rolled that far that fast. Anabelle's reply :

"Oh no, Mom. I gave her a ride".

"A ride?"

"Yes, she loves for me to give her rides all around. Sometimes when you let her come to my room during quiet time I give her rides all around the room. I get her feet then I run all around and swing her. Sometimes I use her hands too. She loves it".

In browsing pictures I feel a bit nervous as I envision a future conversation with Maisey...

"Hey, Mom- I was looking through the 14,000 pictures you have of my first year of life and I can't help but notice that I am being attacked by Anabelle or Lila or sometimes both....and it seems like since there are so many pictures of it you chose to photograph it rather than stop it?"

"Um, yeah, not too much to say there. What do ya say I let you pick out your own prom dress instead of wearing Lila's. Which was Anabelle's. Who wants ice cream?"

Future Maisey: I want to make them stop, I do. I've tried, really. Let this be your first life lesson- love hurts. But better to be hurt than not to be loved at all, I always say.

7 month milestone skills include:

-dancing to music

-getting up on all fours and rocking...not quite a crawl forward but oh, so close

-can reverse scoot rather quickly

-copies movements. If you tell her 'wiggle' she will move her hands and head back and forth vigourously.

While I admit to a tidbit of sadness at the prospect of her crawling, I will also feel happy for her to at least have some sort of defense. Every time I put her on the floor I feel like I'm throwing her to the wolves. They're like sharks who smell food- as soon as she hits the carpet they circle her with wild shrieks and freakish giggles. They continue to circle, not quite sure how they're gonna 'play' with her yet... she's watching them, unsure of what is coming, but the concerned look on her face tells me she senses that it is not good.

It's all out of love.

Happy 7 months, Maisey. You are truly a gem. I'll make it up to you when I rent you a team of white Shetlin ponies to parade you around for your first birthday. I only have 5 more months to get those themed invites to the printer. In Europe. What?, the UK is the only place I could find who would make & attach a real 'ponytail' in the shape of a butterfly.





"Yes, Maisey? Do you have a question? No sweetheart, it's not going to end. In fact, it's only just begun".

better than wikipedia or google images

The other day a couple AWACS came to our base. We have never seen one before so we headed to the flight line to make their acquaintance. It was neat for me to watch Braden see his plane for the first time. He just stood there for a few minutes staring at them. He said it made his heart pound to see them.







It's okay if these pictures don't make your heart pound. Still kinda cool though, right?

Baby weight

So there I am, down in push-up position, following along with my workout DVD. As I'm about to begin my third rep I look over and see this next to me.

Got an ab workout laughing.

Hug it out

A handful of facts about Lila that make my life interesting right now:

1) She does not like to wear a diaper.

2) She does not like to use the toilet.

3) She does like to wake up every half hour throughout the night, wander around, and sing her guts out.

These facts existing seperately are unfortunate, maybe even annoying. These facts occuring simultaneously make me want to walk outside every day and hit myself in the nose with a garden shovel, if only for a breath of fresh air.

She is so so so so so so so tired because she truly does, wake up all throughout the night and wander the house. I found her sitting in the bath, washing her hands, reading books, closing doors, going through all her hair clips, and most of all- SINGING at the tippy top of her little lungs. Anabelle of course wakes her up at five am to get the daily party started. She won't nap in the bunk bed. I put her in the pack n play, desperate for her to nap because she turns into a bit of a monster. She poops. She spreads it. Then she wipes it. Then she smears it. Then she rolls and rolicks in it until she is sufficiently covered in every crack and crevase. Then she lays back down and laughs her face off at what I will now spend my afternoon cleaning. Okay fine, I've never actually seen the laughing part but....it seems plausible.

It's a sick thing that I can't understand but it doesn't make it less of a reality for me. It's happening more and more all the time, whether in a bed or not. I have a set of toothbrushes that are just for poop removal of hard to get corners and cracks-this just shouldn't be necessary. Last week while cleaning just such a mess out of the pack n play, I angrily reasoned that if she is big enough to realize her discomfort in diapers, she is big enough to be potty trained.

There are those out there that would have you believe that you cannot force a child to potty train if they are not ready. Well, do I have a message for them! That is the dag-gum truth, unfortunately for me. She peed on the floor five times in a row. Each time, as I would tell her no and explain where she was supposed to go, she would immediately lay her head on my shoulder and hug me in order to avoid eye contact and confrontation. I fold my arms and stare at her, refusing to hug her. She pries open my arms, lets herself in, then re-closes them. It's so hard to maintain anger in that warm, cozy environment.

This is her approach to all uncomfortable situations. If there was a national hug campaign, she would be the captain. To her, there is just nothing a gentle warm hug can't solve. You just can't ruffle her feathers. She goes for the hugs, but even when I am successful at maintaing a fierce & businesslike demeanor, she just really doesn't care. We have disciplined her as much as is appropriate for pooping and waking up- she is totally unaffected. In the moment, she apologizes repeatedly and never argues or throws tantrums. She simply says sorry, looks sorry, and says she won't do it again. And she doesn't. For at least 2 minutes.

I must give myself some credit by acknowleding that I have worked very hard at developing a stern and frightening Mom face to instill fear into my childrens souls at the appropriate times. It might be more effective if my husband didn't laugh at me every time I try to use it. I'm truly doing my best. But even in these most fustrating of moments, Lila is just so funny. I find myself walking away in the middle of it to regain composure because I can't contain my laughter. It's unexplainable; she's just so funny. The words she says, the way she says it, her quirky faces. It's all too much.

She grabs my head with both hands, pulls me in, kisses me, nuzzles me, then she pulls back with a coy smile that says 'See? Now don't you feel better?'. And I would, if only she was tall enough to push the steam cleaner around.

I bought a gate to at least keep the nightly concert corraled in her room. It has helped. At least I know I won't find her singing in the bus stop down the street.

We are two months into this mess and I feel I have exhausted all possible solutions. I fear that time will be the ultimate hero here. Oh man, if I disassemble one more piece of poopy furniture in order to scrub it down, so help me Lanta....

How dipping chips strengthens marriage

February 14, 2005

Our first Valentines day as husband and wife. Love abounded, poverty availed.

Braden was waiting tables at Los Hermanos and I was working at the treatment center. We both got home from work around 11ish every night. Since I was (/am) a big believer in the "buy the store brand, save a dollar" school of thought, Braden suffered through bag after bag of no name tortilla chips. It was a cruel, sad world for our dear food snob. So I took the chance to heap upon him lavish gifts of food and beverage. I came home to our humble apartment on the corner of the Center street roundabout, prepared to blow his mind with "Hint of Lime" Tostitos and a bottle of Vanilla Coke. Upon arrival, I could see that he too was very excited to unveil something to me. He brought home from work a pint of my thick, chunky green addiction, known on the street as guacamole. My favorite, but also not in the budget. It was thrilling that together, yet secretly, we had created a snackish masterpiece. We sat up late eating and talking and laughing. It was the best.

So every February 14th since then, and every one till we die, has been and will be spent trying our darndest to re-create that perfect night.

Here's to loving each other even more as the years go by as we consume thousands of calories in a single sitting. I like to imagine that the romance will flourish, even if we are pulsing our chips and guac through the blender and sucking it down our old wrinkly faces through a straw.

This year the Claysons came and watched the girls for us for a few hours so we could go play racquetball. It is after all the token outing of romance, as everybody clearly knows. Then Braden made a Valentine for the girls. Lila ran to him and asked, "Will you be my Valentime?", and I think both our hearts stopped for a minute. It made me want to take her immediately to Build-a-Bear and spend a grotesque amount of money to record her saying that and stuff it in a bear so I could hear it every night.

I know some people are on the fence about Valentine's being a commercialized day made only for retailers- I here take a stand in defense of this pink, mushy, questionable holiday. For under ten bucks a year we get stupidly excited for what has become "our thing"- our way of saying and celebrating that we make a perfect team. I go so far as to say that our chips and guac are almost symbolic to us- just chips or just guac alone is nothing special. But once paired together they compliment each other perfectly. And any chance some little girls have to receive a homemade pink heart love note from their Daddy seems like a good idea to me.

And, according to research, we are also significantly reducing our risk of divorce by participating in marriage traditions and rituals. I learned that in college. Which cost me about $18,000. And now you know it for free. Happy Valentine's Day, from me to you.

Interview, revisited

An interview about Mom. From Anabelle, age 2 & 4

I asked her these questions when she was two. Thought I'd ask again at age four to track progress. Maybe I'll continue to ask every few years. Or as long as I don't fear the answers.

1. What is something mom always says to you?
Yes! I want to go potty!
Don't play in the curtains.

2. What makes mom happy?
I make you laugh
When I share with Lila

3. What makes mom sad?
You don't cry!
When I hit Lila

4. How does your mom make you laugh?
I don't know. We don't push our friends.
When I do funny things, like make funny faces

5. What was mommy like as a little girl?
Me.
I don't know. I don't think I can answer that question. I don't think I like this game.

6. How old is your mom?
I don't know. One? I think I can exercise with you.
nine?

7. How tall is your mom?
I don't know. BIG!
Taller than a bear

8. What is her favorite thing to do?
I don't know. Play with me.
Play with us.

9. What does your mom do when you're not around?
Plays in my room
Clean the house

10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
I don't know
I don't know what that means. You're really good at sharing.

11. What is your mom really good at?
houses
You are good at doing the laundry

12. What is your mom not very good at?
You're not bad at!
Fixing things like Dad does

13. What does your mom do for a job?
Flowers?
Your job is to keep us safe from cars and trucks and vans

14.What is your mom's favorite food?
You eat crumbs and cheese
A peanut butter sandwhich?

15.What makes you proud of your mom?
We're gonna play together this morning. You and you and me! (pointing to Lila and I)
When she helps me with everything

16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?
You are my friend
Dora, because you have a backpack and Dora has a backpack

17. What do you and your mom do together?
Play together and smile
We play together. We play everything.

18. How are you and your mom the same?
You are the family.
We have the same color eyes. Blue and white.

19. How are you and your mom different?
How are you different from you?
Your hair is short and brown and my hair is long and blonde.

20. How do you know that your mom loves you?
I don't know. Can I watch a movie? I want to watch a movie Mom.
Because she tells me she loves me and gives me hugs and kisses.

21. What does your mom like most about your dad?
Because he's to work.
Because he does things for you...like....he fixed your Christmas shelf for you.

22. Where is your mom's favorite place to go?
Wal-Mart
The beach

She might look like her Dad...

...but she's got some Connor blood running through her too.

We were sitting together outside when a big boat drove by.

"Wow, that's a nice boat, huh Anabelle?"

"Yeah. That looks like fun, can we get one of those"?

"Probably not, they're very expensive"

"Oh. Ok. I guess we'll just have to wait until it goes on clearance".




The accessories she got from my closet. The sass? That's not mine at all. I think that part did come from her Dad.

Maisey is 6 months old today

She can sit. She can roll over. She can't shake yet, we're still working on that.

In the last month she started babbling "da da da da da" and "ma ma ma ma ma". Not as Mom or Dad, just flexing the golden pipes.

She can roll herself quite far and frequently gets herself wedged in furniture, (or maybe purposefully trying to hide from Lila's love?).

She sleeps through the night. Except when she takes a break from sleeping through the night at 1:50am to eat. And then she takes another little break to eat at 4:50am. Other than those small breaks she sleeps right through the night.

She reminds me of Lila as a baby- so low maintenance, so happy. Funkier hair though. Truly untameable.

She smiles always. No, really, she is always smiling. Which is no small thing considering the size of those cheeks.

She hasn't exactly been back to the doctor (since she was born) but, according to my bathroom scale, she weighs 24 pounds. Wowza. Lila weighs 29.

24 pounds of finger-chewing, toe-grabbing, gigglish, joy.

I dare say I've never met a jollier soul.

She makes my days so very happy.

I don't think there is a more kissed face in all the land.

I am awesome

Do you know what my very favorite way to wake up and start the day is?

Yep, you guessed it. Having a stranger come in my house, walk up the stairs, and return my child to me.

It's my fav.

With the current slepping situation being what it is, I slept upstairs in the office last night, to try to keep little people from waking each other up. Anabelle came in at some time in the dark morning to tell me that her lips are chapped. Crucial. I told her to go downstairs and play quietly and I would help her when the flippin sun came up. As I laid there I could hear her downstairs with Braden as he got ready and left for work. Then I hear her voice calling, "Mom", but she does this all the time and when I go to her she tells me that she is calling Panda's mom, or someone from a pretend game. Happens at least once a week. Because her voice is not shrieking loud like I know it can be, and because she and I have had a conversation and she knows where I am, I continue to lay there assuming that she is involved in a game.

Suddenly I hear a woman's voice in Maisey's room where she was sleeping saying, "Is anybody here?"

I go out in the hall and she has Anabelle and asks me, "Are you this little girls mother?"

Yep.

"She was outside screaming that she couldn't find her mother".

Cool. Extra super cool, in fact.

A fun little thing she still does since OTS anxiety...if she can't see me she FREAKS out and automatically runs outside screaming, assuming that I have left her.

Between our new caring stranger and the neighbor who found Lila the other day at the bus stop down the street, I won't be surprised if I start seeing the base police patrol my house more often. Although, I probably wouldn't notice because I would likely be engrossed in some soap opera while my children frolick in traffic.
(although, to be fair Braden left the front door open and forgot he did so, and it wasn't a real bus stop, just a school bus stop. The lady who returned her was NOT impressed with our parenting).

Any ol day now. Just waiting for that Mother of the Year award.

They conspire against me

Lila wandered down to our room at 2 am just to remind me what a terrible idea it was to let her out of the crib. She came and shut our door and then headed back upstairs. I caught her half way up wearing her one red croc. You know, the one. She frequently finds just one of her red crocs that are still too big for her and she will wear it all day. Always that shoe, always only one.

"Lila, you have to stay in bed"

"Otay Mama"

"Go to sleep, don't get up again"

"Otay Mama"

I find that the closet light is on and Anabelle is not in her bed either. It appears as if Lila is going around the house shutting all the doors, as she likes to do. This morning I learn the details- Anabelle had an accident, turned on the light so she could change, thus waking Lila up, along with her compulsion for door closing.

And thats all it takes for my night to be shot. Oh to fall back asleep like Braden can. It's what I covet most about other peoples bodies. I am convinced that the kids gather in some kind of secret huddle each night to decide who it's gonna be:

"You got to keep her up last night, it's my turn"

"But I have something especially annoying planned, please let me go tonight"

"Hey! We can both do it together! How bout all three of us!"

"Look, it doesn't matter who gets to do it-the important thing is that she doesn't sleep for more than 4 hours. Let's keep our eye on the goal".

It's happening, in my very own house, I swear it.

Since the bed change that I once became gooey-hearted over, my days have been lllooonnnggggg.

Naps? Nope, that has been replaced by the two of them pulling every single item out in their room during "quiet time". The goings on in that hour defy the descriptive title in every possible way. I shall now just be open about the situation... "Girls it's now that part of your day where you go in your clean room and screech loudly like a bunch of starved howling Indians while quickly disorganizing both room and closet and all things contained therin. Go on, I'll spend the rest of my night either nagging you to clean it or cleaning it myself, whichever I find less painful in that particular moment".

They awake sometime in the dark hour of 5ish.

They nap never.

They are sleepy monsters by late afternoon.

They don't fall asleep for an hour after I put them in bed because the raspy falsetto on the bottom bunk enjoys scream-singing herself and others to sleep.

Anabelle comes down stairs after they have been tucked in for a while.

"Mom. Lila is SO loud. She's laying there making all these weird noises."

"Did you ask her to be quiet"?

"Yes, but she won't"

"Okay, honey. Lila responds well to kindness, not bossing. Go encourage her very nicely to go to sleep".

I follow her up without her knowledge and listen in the hallway:

Lila is laying there, wiggling with excitement to be in her new bed, sleep is nowhere on her face or in her mind...

"MICKEY MOOOOOOOUUUUUSE"!

"Lila, let's go to sleep now, okay? No more talking please".

"Otay Anabo"

30 seconds pass

"ELLLLLLMMMMMOOOOOOO"!

"Lila, please don't talk, it's time for sleeping, okay?"

"Otay Anabo"

"Sorry Anabo"

30 seconds

"DA DA DUM DUM DUM DOO DOO DA DA DAAAAAAAAAAAA"!

"UGH! I wish you were still in a crib"!

Don't we all.

Braden has had classified stuff all last week so he has been largely absent. My 15 hours days stuck inside with sick girls have left me cursing those bunk beds.

It's just a phase. One day this will be funny.

If you are my brother Tim you have the good fortune of thinking such things are funny now. They indeed are not.

I speak definitively on this one

A pink sky is better than a pink eye.

I should know.

We've had plenty of both in the last few weeks.

Gooooooooaaaaaals

It's Monday again. Preppin my FHE for tonight (read brownies are in the oven).

It is one of our family goals for 2011 not to miss one home evening the whole year.

The first week of January we talked about goals and setting good habits during our lesson. The next day at breakfast Anabelle said, "I think I will start the habit of cleaning my room." If I knew how to do a cartwheel without getting a rugburn on my forehead, I would have. Then she said, "Nah, nevermind. I'll break my habit of wasting bananas first".

I made a chart with a box for every Monday of the year. It has room to plan the evening and to check off when we have accomplished it. (I'm happy to make you one exactly like mine-Maisey can drool all over it, Lila can color thru the boxes, and Anabelle will smear Peanut Butter on it. Just pay shipping & handling). I have found that I like having somewhere to write possible ideas throughout the week as different needs in the family arise. For instance, I had a lesson already planned for tonight but it is getting pushed back until next week on account of recent attacks launched on Lila. Today Anabelle is not allowed to play with either sister all day because she has mistreated them. She has spent the day alone. It is killing her. And me. I hate when I have to carry out punishment and see the drama unfold. Hopefully tonight she will realize how special it is to have a family and see the importance of treating them well. It's the weirdest thing, so totally unlike her to do this.

Our other goal is to read the scriptures every night as a family before we pray. I wasn't sure how much Anabelle would pick up, but the other day she surprised me when I was trying to remember where we left off...."No, we read that, we read that, we read about Ismael's daughters becoming wives and Nephi's brothers hitting him with the rod...". She is not too small for the scriptures. She gets it. She likes it. She wants to understand them. Wait a minute, is that where she got the idea to start hitting her sister....maybe she was unclear about the take home message of that chapter? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm....

To coincide with our reading, last week we talked about Lehi's vision. We drew a picture with all the things he saw and explained what they meant. While trying to explain the mist and the river, I asked her if she knew who satan is. She said no. As I explained it to her, a look of absolute horror took over her face, and her entire body really, to think that such a being existed. She went on a tirade about not following Satan. As she did so, I jotted it all down, as I happened to be working on our Iron Rod artwork. Classic.



Click to enlarge the drawing. Then pretend to yell what is written in the bubble in Anabelle's horrified voice. My favorite part was "ARE YOU"?!, which she asked each of us in turn. We all promised her that we would obey. Lila's an inspiration to us all, she is afterall, very good on sharing.

How thankful am I for the counsel to have Family Home Evening every week? Well, at the risk of sounding like I'm from Provo, seriously so thankful.

Like I'd miss a chance to hear Lila sing "Jesus wants me for a sunbean".

growing pains

Tonight all the girls got a bedding upgrade: Anabelle from bottom bunk to top bunk, Lila from crib to bottom bunk, and Maisey from bottom shoe closet to the crib.

You would think one of them moved away from home or something. For some reason this minor change in logistics is making me feel all sentimental-ish. I keep finding reasons to go upstairs and peek in on each of them. Am I making sure they’re okay? Am I admiring how sweet they are when they sleep? I’m not sure what it is I’m doing exactly.

I spent a while at Maisey’s crib feeling…well,nostalgic I suppose. In just a few years (four to be exact), we have put three girls in that same bed, the bed Braden whittled on our front porch when we were expecting Anabelle. They have slept in the same jammies, on the same bedding, with the same mobile. I looked in there tonight and marveled that we are already on number three. It seems not that long ago that as new parents slightly obsessed and in awe of our new baby, we would put her in bed and then after an hour start to talk about all the cute stuff she did that day. Then we would go look at her. Then we would watch movies of her. Then we’d look at her again. Several times actually. I remember hanging onto the side of the railing wondering & hoping & just being in love. Sadly, those moments haven’t come near as often with the latter two. Not because I feel it any less, obviously. In those early days of parenting, there weren’t spills & blowouts & tantrums & meltdowns & timeouts & 1000 hugs & stories & songs & wrestling & colossal messes & then more stories. It just wasn’t as taxing. Now by the time bedtime comes, we all welcome a little peace. A mental break from the wonder of it all.

It also brings home what every old person in the grocery store tells me, “Enjoy them. They grow up so fast”. Except the other day, one elderly gentlemen actually said something different. He asked me to move my cart so he could reach the coffee filters. But, you know, anybody who has raised kids realizes that this is it. You get one shot at this gig and the effects of your efforts are ginormous, to say the least. Where I am right now is so precious. Just a few short years and my mothering years are over. My kids will find out the truth about me: I’m not hilarious. I sing terribly. My cooking is mediocre at best. I speed often and run lights frequently. Also, that I’m actually not the tickle monster nor do I eat toes. Right now I have three tiny people upstairs convinced that I am awesome. You just can’t beat that.

I think maybe all my trips upstairs to look in on them are to answer my inner feeling, “Can this be happening? Are these kids really growing up this fast?”

I guess so.

But they’re not growing up in the next 6 hours so I’ll let them be for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll still have a four year old who will pull out all 235 dolls and animals and make them beds using all her clothes from her drawers, and it will take me an hour to clean up. I’ll still have a two year old who is so consumed with her baby sister that she will lay on her and squish her at least 12 times an hour. She will tell me she “needs a dink of nolk”, then she will thank me incessantly until I have said “you’re welcome” an adequate number of times. I will still have a sweet baby with big soft cheeks who holds her toes all day and squeals to test out her newfound voice.

I can go to sleep now. I’m excited for tomorrow.

Return to the Ham

A few days after Christmas we took a trip to Birmingham. Sort of like a late Christmas present to ourselves.

It was one of those trips that just couldn't have gone better.

We went to the sealing of the Watson family, the primary purpose for the trip. It was one of my sweetest temple experiences to date. Nancy looked absolutely radiant. The spirit was so strong-in that moment it seems like you will never be able to lose focus on the importance in always putting the spiritual needs of your family before anything & everything else. And to be there with people we have grown to love & appreciate so much from the Hoover ward. It felt like being there with family.

We stayed with the Jensens and enjoyed Amanda's gourmet cooking and constant perfect playmates for our kids.

I went to Costco and when I heard the voice of my favorite sample giver saying "would you like to take some home with you today? They're VERY good!", I knew I was really home.

Amanda, Stephanie and I went to the mall, sans kids. Not even a baby. Just three girls going wild on the town baby. Or buying clothes for our kids and then hurrying back to nurse the babies. Same diff.

Got to hang with the Hodgsons and snuggle our new babies together.

We rang in the new year at the Jensens with Annie, Darryl, & Madison McDaniel playing games way past any hour that a nursing mother should recreationally see. Worth it. I miss my Annie in my life, gotta soak her up whenever I can.

Sunday we had lunch with the Denkers and we tried to store up some of Jamie's sugary sweetness to transport back to P-city, because heaven knows our branch could use a little of that.

We had lunch at Wayne & Sundee's, where we left our kids with Vanessa while we were at the sealing. It was basically like eating at a Mexican restaurant minus the bill and the questionable beef. Anabelle & Wayne struck up their old love for each other, and I was sad to leave them when the time came.

We snuck in a session with dear, sweet Marilyn. It was good to hear her laugh again.

Going to the Hoover ward on Sunday was fabulous. Being in any functioning ward would have been a relief but visiting with old friends is the best. Anabelle was running all over the place, calling people by name, hugging, tackling, high-fiving. At one point I overheard her little voice saying, "Yeah! For real! He was out there just chewing on a leather back turtle!"...I turned around to see a group of men from the elders quorum gathered around her. She was her old happy self, surrounded by people she loves and misses. Don't we all.

In my dream world, I would have our life in P-city, combined with our friends from the Ham. Can't I just have it all? No? Okay, then I shall be grateful for both, even if they can't co-exist.

Sweet home Alabama...