Coolest four year old ever in the whole wide universe

A few weeks ago Lila and I were laying on the trampoline together having the following conversation: Me: Lila, in a few weeks it will be your birthday. Lila: Oh, Ok Me: Do you want to have a birthday party? No response Me: Do you want to have a cake? Lila: Yes! Me: Who do you want to come over? Lila: Steve (who is out next door neighbors dog). Me: Oh, OK. And who else? Lila: Barkley (who is the next door neighbors other dog). Me: OK. Do you want to have any family over? Like cousins and aunts and uncles? Lila: No. Me: So you just want me and Anabelle and Maisey? Lila: No, just Steve & Barkley. Me: Huh. Do you want some presents? Lila: No. Just some balloons. Yep, she's the best. So simple. So low maintenance. Which is why I find myself actually willing to do more for her- because she demands and expects nothing. And she's excited over every little thing. It's very mature of her really. It defies the very essence of toddlerhood. Which is why when I went against her birthday wishes just a bit she was cool with it. Turns out Steve & Barkley were on vacation so I felt compelled to call in a few human subs at the last minute. Not too many as I know that she doesn't like a crowd, and didn't want to overwhelm her on her birthday, I mistake I have made in the past on birthdays. And I went ahead and got her 2 presents, against her wishes. She was good with that too. I hung some balloons outside her bedroom door so she would see it when she woke up. She loved it. I think if I had done only that she would have been completely ecstatic. Because she is so accomadating she would reply "sure" to every cake I asked her about. But I really wanted it to be something that she actually loves. And she loves donuts. So I just made a big stack of donuts and she seemed happy. We arranged all this around a time that Braden could Skype us so he could watch her blow out her candles and open her presents. And then we went on a walk to the duck pond. And a bunch of dogs showed up. And she chased the around and climbed trees and wandered freely. And she was happy. It was a perfect day. I don't know that I've ever loved one of my kids birthdays like I loved that day. I think it was because she makes it so easy to celebrate her. When Braden called later that night after it was all over he found me crying as I thought at the desk. It was mostly a good cry. I felt completely overwhelmed with love for Lila. Often I look at her and remember how she began. How easily we could have had a different ending to that story. How delicate and precious is life. And how grateful I am that prayers are answered, and in this particular case, that they were answered in the way that I pleaded for. I know that doesn't always happen. But I will be grateful every day that it happened for me at that time. And I love that I have a constant reminder of Heavenly Father's tender mercies running around my house everyday. Along with this, I couldn't help but feel some sadness also, at Braden's absence on days like this. I have grown accustom to doing everything alone and to being alone, but sometimes the fact that he's missing things like this hits me like a truck and breaks my heart. This is stuff I want to experience together. I want to sit on the porch at the end of the night and talk about it with him, not try to explain it to him over Skype. It's the stuff you don't get back and you don't get to re-do. I am excited for all the kids that Braden is coming home relatively soon, but I'm most excited for Lila. She has struggled the most, I think due to her age. In the year that she was three, Braden was around for three sporadic months of it. I have a bright expectation for her year of being four. Here's to a little more stability, the start of preschool, and her Dad to tuck her in at night. I am anxious to see Lila grow academically and developmentally and socially, but with all my heart I hope the core of Lila never changes. I hope everything that I love about her now somehow stays intact through the years. It seems like most parents spend lots of time teaching their kids to be nice, teaching them how to love others, forgive others, share with others, etc; and that the physical stuff happens naturally. We haven't yet gotten her to spit when she brushes her teeth and she's being trained on how to use her tongue to make all the right noises. But she could teach me a few things about loving others. And I've never had to explain to her what it means to share; she just gives freely, always has. Right now she might seem a bit behind compared to peers, but I think in the long run, she is light years above most adults I know with the love in her heart. My goal with her is not to ruin her. Not to taint what what she came here with, but to learn from it. So grateful for the last four years with her and looking forward to many more.

The Fun Run that wasn't

My dear Anabelle, who is capable of anything in the world and who has capacity beyond measure, does NOT like to try new things. She has freak-outs if I suggest she play a sport because anything she percieves as "hard" gives her panick attacks. If you would have told me a few years back that she would have this problem I never would have believed it. I myself feel that I have lived most of my life this way, for lack of confidence and self esteem. So I am bound and determined to help her get over it so she doesn't have a list of regrets. In this cause, I signed her up for a military kid fun run, knowing she would hate it. And hate it she did. She complained about it endlessly for the week prior to it. The day before it got annoying. The morning of it was downright maddening. Minutes before it was to begin, she was crying and throwing a fit. She refused to meet any of the other kids. She insisted she wouldn't know where to go. Seconds before I saw some kids that I recognized from our street and asked them if she could run along side them. They happily agreed. As you can see from the picture she was very mad at me. And then when the gun went off a little smile crept across her face as she started to run. Unbeknownst to her, I started to follow her after she was aways off, just to make sure that she turned around at the right spot. Once she figured this out she wasn't happy about it. It was frustrating to watch because she is fast and she could have lit up every other kid around her. But she kept stopping, for no reason at all. Each time this happened I would tell her to run. Finally she got close to the finish line and I thought this was going to be a good thing after all. And then, 10 feet short of the finish line, she stopped. And refused to cross it. Absolutely refused. She was making such a scene that those cheering at the ribbon came over and offered to stay with the other girls so I could run across it with her. She wouldn't. And when she couldn't be reasoned with, I hit my wall of frustration and told her to go to the car. We walked to the car, across parking lots and roads, with her crying and carrying on and not being able to explain to me what was going on. I don't recall our exact conversation but I conveyed to her that she had quit and nothing is worse than quitting. This made her more upset and I asked her if she wanted to go back and finish. By this time we had reached the van and I had already unloaded the stroller. She said that she did so we walked back, and she went back to the place where she had stopped. She ran the few feet to the finish line and I took her picture. And I have to say, exhausting as it was for me, I felt just as proud of her in that moment as I would have if she'd won the race I think. A lesson learned. Quitting is bad. Finishing what you start is good. It's fun to try new things. Don't get a key and open a door that I have purposefully locked (can a girl shave her legs alone JUST ONCE A WEEK?) Oh wait, we're still working on that one. I can't expect too many teaching lessons from a one mile fun run. She wore her t-shirt all day and told everyone how great the race was (as I rolled my eyes behind her). Will I be signing her up for another race? Um, maybe when Braden gets home so we can tag-team those emotions. Whew.

A super crappy week. Like for real.

Maisey is very sick. I spent the whole day holding her. In fact all the girls are sick, to varying degrees, but she is by far the worst. She has a very high fever that won't break, along with vomiting, diahhrea, congestion, mucus, and a double ear infection. I laid in her room with her on the floor as she lay perfectly still and miserable. I had spent every moment of the day either holding her or taking care of her or washing soiled laundry from her and Lila. By late afternoon I was exhausted and lay reflecting on the day as I sang her song after song. I began to sing "I Know That My Redeemer Lives" and tears started flowing. I thought of all the things I had done today. None of them glamorous or fun. Although I didn't get to go to church today, at the end I still felt very uplifted as the realization came to me that I spent my day doing exactly what the Savior would have. Comforting, nurturing, easing burdens, and giving love. I was overcome in that moment with the great honor it is to Mother a child. I have a quote written in my scriptures that I love which reads, "Motherhood is near to divinity. It is the highest, holiest service to be assumed by mankind. It places her who honors its holy calling and service next to the angels". It was clear to me after the day I had why it says that motherhood is near to divinity. If we're doing it right, we are spending our days nurturing and loving as the Savior himself would love our children. And maybe we need times of sickness to help us to slow down and give that level of love. . Maisey's spectacular bed head I asked Anabelle to come sit with her for a minute so I could change the laundry. I walked by to see her gently stroking her forehead and singing her favorite song. These are my most cherished moments.

She's only in PRESCHOOL?

For the last few years I have been hearing people ask Anabelle what grade she is in. Maybe it's because she talks about the French Revolution. Maybe its because she traps you in your own faulty logic and then demands a better answer. Maybe it's because she throws around words like 'specifcally, generally, legitimately,literally, etc;" in a very natural way. But yes, she JUST finished preschool. She only did three months of it for 6 hours a week, but she loved every minute of it. And so did I. What?! I don't have answers to all of her questions...a girl can only google so many things. I fear once she figures out how to navigate Google herself I will render myself completely useless to her (and that will likely occur in the next 12-18 months). I met with with her teacher for a parent-teacher conference a few weeks ago. All the boxes were checked with "mastered skill". She said there wasn't too much to discuss, only that once Anabelle came into the class she became the interpreter for the teacher. Ms. Marji would give the kids directions, then the kids would sorta sit there, then Anabelle would exaplain to all the kids what Ms. Marji wanted them to do, then all the kids understood and did it. Good to know she's bright. It's not however, helpful in my campaign to convince Anabelle that she isn't the boss of the whole entire universe. She had been yakking on and on about graduation for weeks, and practicing her songs for their performance. So I was really excited to watch her graduate. You can catch a glimpse of all that excitement in the group shot. She frowned the entire time. And rocked back and forth in a disturbing way without hardly singing, throughout their performance. Then when she sat down next to me I questioned her about it. She said, "I wasn't. I was having fun". Oh. Apparently I missed the memo that it was "have fun while maintaining the appearance that you actually deeply hate all those in attendance" day. Anyway, she got a cupcake at the end and if you ask her about her preschool graduation all she'll say to you is that she got a cupcake. So I'm sort of hoping that it's going to work like that in my parenting too. Maybe she won't remember my lack of patience and other shortcomings. Perhaps she'll just say, "Um, I got some cupcakes". That might really benefit me in the end. Here's to Kindergarten!

Hugs make the world go round

At least they make my world go round. I have nicknamed Maisey the Hug Bug. It is a well- earned and fully deserving name. She feels compelled to hug everything. Last week when we left church her cheeks and hands were black because she walked from car to car hugging each tire. I’ve walked in on her hugging the toilet seat on numerous occasions. And then there was the time I walked into the kitchen to find that she had dumped the rich chocolate Ovaltine all over the floor. I walk in to see her laying in the middle of it with her face to the ground. I asked her what she was doing. “I hug chocolate”. I can’t blame her for that one. She also gives me the world’s best baby hug- tight squeeze around the neck, cheeks squished together, little fingers playing with my hair.

It is safe to say that I love the Hug Bug

The day my girls learned the P word

My sister Michelle keeps an array of animals on hand. My children think that this is great. Recently, she called to tell me that one of her goats had a baby, and that if I brought the girls down, they could feed the newborn goat with a bottle. I thought that would make a bunch of kids happy (HA! get it? I said kids and I'm talking about baby goats?!) so we swung by one afternoon. Just as we walked out in the backyard, we discovered that another goat had just had a baby. We watched as Michelle toweled off the baby and wondered if there was another twin on the way (which there ended up being and we got to watch. It is way more fun to watch birth be given than to give birth- just in case the jury is still out on that one.) I asked Lila what would be a good name for the fresh creature covered in afterbirth that she was presently nuzzling. She stood there saying "hmmmmmmmmm.......um.......um.......". Meanwhile, about 15 feet off Anabelle and Michelle are chatting: A: Is it a boy or a girl? M: I don't know. Let's check.(looks between legs). It's a boy. A: How do you know? M: Because it has a penis. A: What's a penis? And then suddenly, Lila had a great idea. "Let's name him Penis! I think Penis will be a good name!" Hey I'm all about anatomically correct teaching, but there just hasn't been much need for P-talk around our house. And then Anabelle said she'd like to drink the goats milk. So Michelle milked the goat and strained the milk and the girls drank it up rather disturbingly. Anabelle's eyes rolled back in her head as she described to me that it was the most deliciious thing and that it was so creamy and asked when she could drink it again. Between watching the miracle of life play out in sloppy bloody animal form, the warm milk I was feeding my kids, and the afterbirth that was covering their faces and hands, I myself left there feeling a little queasy. But boy did I leave there with a happy (and more educated), bunch of kids. I did however enjoy getting to ask Michelle the next day how her little Penis was doing. Because yes, I'm that mature.

Making it work

I haven't posted in a while. At first it was because of busyness. And then it was because...well I don't feel like it. I aint gonna lie- it hasn't been all sparkles and rainbows around here. Home life with the girls turned into something real ugly. And draining. Lots of screaming from one girl, lots of complaining and arguing from another. I got no beef with Maisey though. When I talk to Braden and he asks me how my day was I want so much to tell him something different, to report positive changes. He asked why I hadn't blogged and I told him that I just don't know what to say. I don't want to write what I'm feeling. Nothing good comes of complaining. Besides, I know how this business is. It's just like anything else. It ebbs and it flows. I know it won't be like this forever. I know one day I'll wake up and things will be brighter. But for the last few weeks, I've just been getting through the days. Every night ends with Anabelle screaming and crying. Every night I look at Braden on Skype and just shake my head and shrug my shoulders. But today was different. Attitudes were better. Moods were happier. I sat outside watching the girls as they rode bikes with the neighborhood pack. The sidewalk was jammed with trikes and bikes and scooters and power wheels. Kids coming and going, racing to the big tree and then coming back again. Maisey wants to play and ride bikes too. She wants to be included. She wants to do what her sisters are doing. She wants so much to be able to ride a bike. But she can't reach the pedals. And she can't reach the handle bars. But she didn't sit on the porch with me crying about it. She got on her bike, and she made it work. She shimmied down the walk with her little feet moving her forward. reaching up and holding the ribbons, while sitting on the back shelf of the bike. Just when she would finally make it closer to the kids, they would be turning around and going the other way. She ended up in the grass frequently, being pushed out by the older and faster kids who were legitimate candidates in the races. But she kept going, ineffecient as it was, she just kept it up and she got faster. And she figured out how to keep her feet from getting caught under the wheel. And all this she did with a grin, just happy to be playing at all.I sat watching this over the past few days and thought I should take a lesson from her. My life lately feels a lot like her bike riding looks. Inefficient as all get out. Frustrating, slow, and even painful at times. But I think I forgot her trick. I forgot to be grateful just to be here, playing the game. I took this picture of her to remind me to make it work. Slow as it may be. Frustrating as it may be. Just keep going. And be happy doing it. Pretty simple really. Thanks Maise. I needed that kiddo.

Fine Southern people

On Thursday we had the unusual chance to hang out with my Grandma, who is visiting from Texas. And because she came to Utah, my parents came (north). It has been a while since I have heard all them "y'alls" in southern drawls. We had such a fun day at Aunt Susie's playing with family that we haven't seen in years. Have I already said how much I love being around family?


I'd like to think I have some Southern grit flowing through me thanks to these fine young ladies.





I dare someone to show me a cooler picture of their Grandma.

Easter 2012

Each night this week the girls and I have talked about what happened on each night of the Holy week. On Monday night, I brought out a picture that wasn't familiar to me, preparing to explain to them the story of Christ cleansing the temple. Anabelle recognized it immmediatley and told me the story in great detail with perfect accuracy. I was stunned. And then I sang 'I Know That My Redeemer Lives'. And Lila was enthralled with it. She was touched. I could see that she was feeling the words of the song. She asked me to sing it again. And then again. She didn't want me to stop. And then we knealt down to say prayers and I asked Maisey if she wanted to pray. She said that she did so I helped her say her first prayer. It was so sweet. Her little arms folded, her eyes in a squint, and her little voice repeating most of what I said. My heart was full and I wondered why on earth I would EVER miss having Family Home Evening. Thursday, I began by talking about The last supper and the sacrament. Then I brought out a bucket of warm water that I had prepared and I washed each of the girls feet and explained how Jesus had done that to his disciples. I talked about the suffering in the garden and how his apostles had fallen asleep. How Judas had betrayed him. How he must have felt at this point- knowing he was to die, betrayed by a loved one, physically exhausted from immense pain and emotional burdens- at which point he heals the ear of a man waiting to take his life. I watched as Anabelle's heart broke. A slow cry started in her mouth and the tears began to flow and she said, "Why!? Why did Jesus have to die? Everyone says that he died for us but WHY did he have to? Why do people say that he died so we can live again? It doesn't make sense to me. Please can you help me understand WHY he had to?" I found myself quite overwhelmed at first, and stumbeling over a response. I can recall feeling this exact way myself on several occassions, and not as a small child. I told her that she would understand the answer to that question more and more throughout her life. She was not content. Again, she begged me to explain it to her. And then somehow I did. But I can't remember what I said. When I try to think of it, its like a wall is blocking the conversation in my mind. She sat in my lap for a while while I helped her understand something that I myself have grappled with as an adult. I dont know why. I just know that it's real and I know that I am grateful. It seemed to be necessary that she understand that the atonement isn't just something that happened. It is something to be used. It's not an event to be recalled, it's a tool to be used. I feel certain thinking about it now that the spirit helped me to say to her what she needed to hear- words that were beyond what I myself could give her. I saw peace in her eyes, her body relaxed, and she appeared comforted.

On Sunday night when we were re-capping the week I said:

Me: Lila, what is Easter about?
L: Jesus is not dead, He's ALIVE!
Me: And what is the word for that?
L: He's Ressurrected!
Me: And how does that make you feel?
L: Happy!!
Me:Why?
L: Because it makes you happy!

Good enough.

My friend gave me the good idea to arrange for the Easter Bunny to come on Saturday morning instead of Sunday. That way they get all that out of their system and Sunday gets to be about what it is really supposed to be about. A tradition I loved. I shall keep it. I may however have to talk to the bunny about the content of the eggs. Especially after the video I have of Anabelle asking repeatedly why there is just one jelly bean in each egg. So I don't want them hyped and screaming for sugar for days on end, what's so wrong about that? I'm a single Mom, don't judge me.




There were 3 different egg hunts happening that I offered to take them to but they (Anabelle, speaking for the group as she sometimes does), insisted that they stay home and play with their spoils. Like brush their teeth (or face if you're Maisey) for 20 minutes.



We didn't get new easter dresses but boy did we have Easter hair. We rolled it back old school (get it-"rolled it back"?) and went for some sponge rollers. Anabelle's are the only ones that lasted till bedtime.


This is Lila walking reverently outside before church. Never have I known a child to love and accept the idea of being reverent as she has.Maybe Maisey will catch on? Please Maisey, catch on. And those crazy kids who always seem to end up behind us at church who screech like monkeys while their parents pretend we are actually at the zoo and that it is OK. And now I can never invite them to my blog because I just talked trash about them. But they probably wouldn't even know I was talking about them. On that note, back to Easter!!







I was sitting at the computer looking at dress patterns, contemplating making the girls some Easter dresses. Enter 5 y/o Anabelle. I ask, "Anabelle, how important is it to have new dresses for Easter?" She says, "It's so TOTALLY not important. The only thing that's important is that we remember the empty tomb." Thanks for keeping it real kid.