New Years Goals

I'm about 25 days behind in my life right now. And really, I think my new year will begin March 16, when Norah turns one and the breastfeeding ends. Finito! It makes me happy just to think about it. Because I'm pretty sure all my problems will end with the end of my self-imposed time schedule of breastfeeding.
Knees? They will miraculously heal and I will be running a 19 minute 5K by June.
Writer's Block? I will be running again so that will take care of that.
Bad Mommy-ing? I'm sure that will be solved when breastfeeding ends.
Yelling? I'm sure it's directly correlated to a chemical released while breastfeeding.
Not enough time in the day to get everything done? Not breastfeeding will free up at least 1 hour a day, right? And in that hour I'll do a load of laundry, load the dishwasher, create a small craft, and read my scriptures. Since that is what I do with free hours around here, in reverse order of course. I never just sit and stare at the wall, or watch Downton Abbey, or make myself a cup of hot chocolate and relish the silence-ABSOLUTE SILENCE--when I get a free hour. I am always very productive.

I do have some New Years Goals which are totally measurable and have deadlines:
1. Be More Awesome--Deadline: midnight March 16, 2013
2. Eat less crap (not real crap, but you know sugar and fat and all things that make life worth living, like chocolate. Although I'm sure I've accidentally ingested some sort of crap since I have changed thousands of diapers. Now excuse me while I throw up a little.)-- Deadline for completion: Tomorrow, always tomorrow
3. Get out of bed--Deadline: 6:30 a.m., every morning.
4.  Cut Ellie's bedtime routine down from 1.5 hours to 10 minutes. Seriously, that child can milk a bedtime like no other. Deadline: Jan 28, 2013
5. Beat Mike in the Spudman. Deadline: July 27,.2013 If only I can figure out my knees. Oh, wait. That's going to be solved on March 16, so watch out Mikey-boy! I love you, but your reign will end.

Playing in the Snow

Sometimes raising children is like walking through the desert, half-delusional with thirst. You certainly think that's a shady tree and a nice cool pond of water just over there in the distance, and if you can just keep going, you might reach it. But then you find yourself thirstily shoveling sand into your mouth.

Today we decided to go and play in the snow. No school + tons of snow=fun, right? I was at least smart enough to tuck Norah into her crib for her morning nap before venturing into the land of gloves, snow pants, and other miscellaneous snow items. With her safely dreaming away, I grabbed all the snow stuff from the back of the van (because what better place to store your snow clothes?) and began assigning boots, coats, gloves, hats, scarves, snow pants, and other miscellaneous items.

Kenzie, the seven-year-old-almost-eight, was pretty good at getting her own stuff on. So she went at it, while Hannah (5) was able to put on her snow pants and coat but was waiting (somewhat impatiently) for me to help her find a sock. (Since I have yet to purchase my 270 pairs of socks to make my life easier.) Ellie (2) is still hopeless at dressing herself. So I tried very patiently to stuff her in her snow pants, put on her scarf, push on her hat, pull on her gloves, and maneuver her boots into a walking position. Then, since we got the girls gaiters for Christmas, I had to put on her gaiters. They are quite nice for keeping out the snow, but take some time to put on. Kenzie began bugging me to help her get her gaiters on. I gave Ellie a small lecture about her hands falling off if she took her gloves off and then turned to Kenzie.

I was already sweating, but managed to not speak crossly as I finished stuffing Kenzie's oversized snow pants into her gaiters, wrestled the velcro shut, and then ran upstairs to find a sock for Hannah.

I was trying to preserve my mood because this was going to be FUN! We were going to build snowmen! Walk in our snowshoes! Lay in the snow! Pull each other in the sled! FUN! FUN! FUN!

Next Hannah. Her boots were bugging her, so I pulled them off and readjusted the liner.
Kenzie was ready so she started trying to open the door. With her mittens on, this was impossible.

"Mom. Can I go out now? Can I go out now? Can I go out now?"

"Yes." I said smiling. Fun mom. Fun mom. "You and Ellie can go out if you keep an eye on her. Ellie don't take your gloves off! It will hurt really bad. Badly. Whatever. Don't take them off." I interrupted fixing Hannah's boots to open the door. I glanced at the clock and noticed that it had taken 20 minutes already to get ready for this adventure.

I put Hannah's boot back on. "It's bugging me! It's bugging me!"

Five sock and boot/snow pants adjustments later I began to be cross. Just as I pulled on Hannah's last glove and patted her on the head to send her out the door, Ellie pushed the door open, the door handle hitting into my back as I was trying to pull up my snow pants.

"I'm all done. I come in now."

"Oh no you're not!" I retorted, shutting the door on my sweet two-year-old. "I want to come outside and I'm almost ready."

"I cold! I come in!"

"No!" I said desperately, my vision of fun in the snow evaporating in the face of the reality of the attention span of a toddler. I glanced at the clock. She'd been out for 10 minutes-- half the time it took to get her ready.

I use my prowess at bargaining to try to win at least a few minutes of my child-mommy-snow-love-fest vision: "I'll bring out some fruit snacks!"

I throw on the rest of my snow gear and run upstairs for fruit snacks. I grab a water bottle for good measure and run outside. I am ready for FUN! EXCITEMENT! JOY! GOOD MOM-NESS!

"M-om! My gloves are falling off," claims a frustrated Hannah.

"Will you put these snow shoes on me?" says Kenzie.

"Fruit snack! Fruit snack! I want a fruit snack!" says Ellie.

I snap. "I just want to play in the snow! Just give me a minute! You guys are asking too much of me! Here's your dang fruit snacks! Can we just play in the snow for one minute without anyone asking me for something?"

"But M-om, you said. . ."

"I'm cooooooold. I want to go inside."

"It's bugging me!"

"THAT'S IT! I'M GOING INSIDE!"

Everyone starts crying. Good Mom-ness abounds. 

Eventually I apologize to my children for my little fit, I send Ellie inside to watch Sesame Street, and Hannah and Kenzie and I make tracks with their snowshoes, fall in the snow, and build a small snow fort.
It wasn't exactly the oasis I was dreaming of, but it was better than a mouth full of sand.

Daylight Saving Time--my regular rant, just two months late

Morning at our house the week after Daylight Saving Time:
5:00- I roll my sorry self out of bed to go for a swim because my knee refuses to heal. I am currently trying to convince myself that once I stop nursing Norah all my problems will be solved. Until then though I am trying to get in some sort of workout that won't hurt the dang knee.
6:45- I arrive home and Mike heads off to work. I have showered at the gym but my hair is wet, so I'm hoping to get it done before it's time to wake up the chinchillas until. . .
6:50--Norah starts crying. Ok. I'll feed you Norah. No screeching. I feed Norah. She uses her recently sharpened nails to pinch every part of me that she can reach. Ahh, the joys of breastfeeding.
7:00-- Ellie, who lives in the cupboard under the stairs, begins crying very loudly. She opens her door and stands in the doorway crying and yelling, "I need to go potty. I need to go potty."  I whisper-yell, "Ellie, it's okay. You can come upstairs. Come and go potty." She cries louder. "Ellie!" I yell, "Come and go potty!" Ellie cries louder. I stand up, still feeding Norah and precariously balance her and walk to the top of the stairs, "Ellie come upstairs. Don't cry. It's okay. You can go potty."  Mike and I have tried to tell her it's okay to just come upstairs and use the bathroom, but she still needs visual and audible confirmation that it's okay to come upstairs every morning. I'm not sure why this is, since when she is supposed to be napping or in time out she has no problem escaping from her room (which is not really a cupboard under the stairs. It is a real room with a window even.)
7:05--Ellie comes upstairs still crying. She is even more upset when I tell her to use the potty by herself while I finish feeding Norah. "No!" She cries. "I need help. I can't. I can't." (She can.)  I sit back down and try to armchair parent by using a convincing voice and saying, "Ellie, you can do it! Be a big girl. I'll give you a marshmallow!" Even my best primary voice is not working to convince her that she is a capable and competent potty-user. She comes in the room and hangs on my knees and cries and cries. Norah eats very slowly, turning her head every few swallows to check out the noisy being trying to grab her head.
7:15--I get fed up with Ellie crying and climbing on me and Norah, and set Norah down for a minute. Norah protests loudly, while I help Ellie use the bathroom. I grumpily set her on the toilet. She's already gone in her pull-up (curse you pull-ups. I will never succumb to your use in potty-training again.)
7:25-- I finish breastfeeding Norah, set her in the high chair with a pile of cheerios, and head down to Kenzie and Hannah's room to wake them up to get ready for school. Ellie follows me begging me to hold her and help her. I rub each girls back gently trying to wake them up. Kenzie responds to my, "How did you sleep last night?" With a tired but agreeable, "Good." She gets up and starts getting dressed. Hannah growls at me "UNNNNNGGGHH! UNGH!" and rolls over to face the wall.
"Hannah, let me help you choose your clothes. Let's get going though. Remember how you didn't get any breakfast yesterday because you laid around in bed? I'm making eggs, let hurry so you can have some."  (I usually stick with cold cereal in the mornings, but I've been trying to branch out.) She stays in her bed, peering over while I pull clothes out of her drawer. She poutily okays an outfit, but doesn't move from the bed. I cajole a little more, and then head upstairs to make breakfast and take care of Norah and Ellie. Hannah cries out, "NO MOM! Don't leave! STAY HERE! STAY HERE! STAY HERE!" She has become an accomplished yeller. I keep walking up the stairs. She cries hysterically.
7:35-- Kenzie is up and dressed, combing her hair. Hannah is nowhere in sight. I help Kenzie straighten her hair while Ellie clings to my legs, crying, "Help me get dressed. Help me. I can't find Snow White. Help me." I use all my powers of patience to not lock Ellie in her room. "Ellie," I say, "I can help you after Kenzie and Hannah go to school. Let's go get some breakfast."
"NO! no, no," she wails.  Norah has started fussing. I throw some more cheerios on her tray. A nutritious and well-balanced baby breakfast. Hannah continues to wail for me to come downstairs. I pour Ellie some cereal that she pushes away, "NO I DON'T WANT IT." I make Norah some rice cereal with applesauce.  Kenzie remembers that she is taking her lunch today. The eggs burn.
7:50- I call down the stairs as I try frantically to pick brown spots out of my scrambled eggs, "Hannah! I will send you to school in your pajamas. Please hurry." I am trying hard not to yell. I mostly succeed. Hannah screams up the stairs, "I AM GETTING DRESSED! DON'T TALK TO ME!" I hear her screetching in frustration.
7:55-- She waltzes up the stairs and comes over to the table to eat. "Go comb your hair first Hannah."
"MOM! I AM GOING TO EAT."
"No." I say firmly. "You know the routine. We comb our hair first. Would you like me to help you?" I am boiling at Hannah, but I figure if I erupt now Hannah doesn't get to school and my ultimate goal is to get her into her carpool and off to school.
"UNGGHH." says Hannah attractively.
I follow her into the bathroom anyway. Ellie follows me saying, "My turn. My turn!" She tries to stand on the stool next to Hannah. Hannah elbows her and pushes her off.
"Hannah! Stop."
"Ellie is bugging me!" This erupts into full-time pushing, shoving and crying. Hannah ends up in her room, hair undone (after I drag her there) until her carpool comes, Ellie ends up crying a lot and I end up eating eggs that are not only full of burned spots, but cold as well and my hair is frizzy because I never did get to do it.
That night everyone starts crying that they are too tired to brush their teeth.
Have I told you yet that I hate Daylight Saving Time? And Fall Daylight Saving is the "easy" one. Seriously congress, stop fighting about the dang fiscal cliff and fix this stupid Daylight Saving crap. 

Repurposing your ugly baby bath chair into an ugly Shampoo Carrier

Repurposing is all the rage--you know diaper boxes into cute bins, cereal boxes into chic magazine holders, toilet paper tubes into avant garde Christmas decorations, milk jugs into lingerie (I made that one up).
Pinterest (motto: Deflating your self-esteem one chic repurposing project at a time) has been making me feel guilty about all the stuff I actually throw away when I could really be using it to beautify my house, organize my life, and save the planet. Imagine my delight when I thought of this handy repurposing project: Bath chair to Shampoo Bottle Holder!
It's not very cute, but is it purposeful. Since my dang knee refuses to cooperate and heal, I am swimming 2-3 times a week, and I needed something to put my shampoo, conditioner (I like to call it cream rinse, but Mike makes fun of me when I do that), and soap in. We were getting ready to throw this baby away:



When the ghost of Cheapskate-ness visited me and I came up with this little design:

I am pretty sure I will soon see this picture all over Pinterest. It's super simple, just sew the bottom shut and you have your own little bit of awesomeness whenever you go swimming. The top part that previously supported my wee one's large head now works as a convenient hanger. It also folds over the bottles like a little envelope to keep them in place, not rolling all over my bag and shampooing things that should not be shampooed. And I can feel all sentimental and weepy everytime I wash my hair when I swim. Awwww.
Now if I could just think of something to use the metal frame for (picture hanger if I add some cute clothes pins? Cute wreath with the addition of large amounts of felt and hot glue?), we'd be in business.

Small Frustrations make me want to disable my ears

I just finished eating my lunch. It's 2 p.m. I started eating lunch at noon, but I swear my children are in some conspiracy to never allow me to sit down and eat again.
My lunch started out with a lovely piece of toast, cooked by my sweet and humming daughter Hannah. Hannah is now downstairs, kicking the wall. It makes me want to scream, but then I'd have to engage her and I've been losing all of my skirmishes and battles with my children lately, so I'm just going to pretend I don't hear that ANNOYING noise and that we didn't just spend months and months re-painting and decorating that room.
Anyway, lunch. It started on the front porch, with toast. No I don't usually eat on my front porch, and I'd love to finish sarcastically relating the harrowing events of my lunch, but the baby is crying. I used up my 20 minutes of free-from-children time eating. EATING. I was planning to blow off a little steam by blogging, but now I'm off to feed the baby. Should I tie Hannah's legs up first, or let her be?

Coping by Buying Socks in Bulk

I am currently overwhelmed. For some reason Norah has decided to grow up. This is very unfortunate, since my plans for taking care of four children always involved her staying little and sleeping a lot. She's so uncooperative. Today she insisted on being fed at breakfast, lunch and dinner.
I'm trying to think of ways to simplify so I can fit feeding myself into my schedule. Because I miss eating.
Ideas:
1. Buy 275 pairs of white socks for each child. This way I never have to match tiny socks or pretend that tiny socks match when they really don't. Why 275? Because, silly, during the summer you don't need socks.
2. Never leave home again.
3. Give up showers.
4. Return to cold cereal as a staple dinnertime food.

I always drown a little when I'm trying to incorporate a new baby into our family. It doesn't matter how many times I've done it before (or how cute and excellent the baby is). It's still hard.
The End

Summer is OVER. GOOD RIDDANCE.

The photo evidence from this summer points to a good time had by all.  Lest someday my harried daughter says to me, "Mom, how did you do it?" And I reply smiling wistfully, "You should cherish every moment. They grow up so quickly. We just did what we did and had a good time." --I am hereby recording the true events of this summer.

My Summer Vacation
by Stephanie C.

This summer we spent much of our time in Fightville, a picturesque little town known for its town motto of "She's _________________(fill in the blank with a verb) me."  We got some bruises and a few scratches and hair pulls as we explored the rocky shores of the beaches there.

One day, after the whole family took a community course on YELLING LOUDLY, we all went to our separate rooms and sulked. I might have been heard to say, "This is the worst summer ever." Out loud.

Another day, we visited Fightville's famous Cry Me A River shop where we found all sorts of things to cry about. We visited this shop often.

Fightville also offered side excursions to famous and ever-enjoyable Whineville and Teaseville. Sometimes on our side excursions I looked out the window and saw a sign that pointed to Lost-Your-Mind-ville, but in some strange time-space warp we were already there at the same time we were in Fightville.

The Fightville community center also offered classes in Talking Back (or how to pick a fight about everything from combing your hair to eating an ice cream cone), and Throwing Fits That Will Make Your Parents Wish to be Prisoners in Guantanamo Bay.  They also offered a special class for mothers in Extreme Guilt. I attended that class daily.

We bought souvenir t-shirts that read, "My heart belongs to Fightville." So we can always remember the good time we had there. THE END

Sometimes I pretend to myself that I would like to home school. BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Where can I sign up for year-round school. With no breaks. Ever.?

Okay. It wasn't all that bad. Here's the photo evidence to the contrary. And really, when it comes down to it, I guess I don't want to remember what it was really like. I do, in fact, hope to one day look down the long corridor of years and smile with misty forgetfulness about how wonderful raising children was. So here's some pictures of the things I hope to really remember:

Norah's blessing

Ellie's Bday

The Royal Race

Playing out front after dinner

The Ogden Nature Center

Fourth of July parade

Backyard water slide

Swimming with cousins

The zoo

Swimming with more cousins

Playing with neighbors

The Spudman

Bear Lake

Cutest baby ever

"The moon"

Happy Back to School!