I should have been a liar.

Oops, I mean, lawyer. I recently pulled off what may have been the best convincing job in my thirty years of manipulating. My four-year-old, after only about 5 minutes of coaxing bought into my story that the devil costume that I bought her on clearance last year is actually a princess costume. After all, it's frilly and catches the wind oh-so-nicely when she spins around. It even has a matching crown(horns) and wand(pitchfork).

Was it lying? Perhaps. But really, how was I to know last year at the post-Halloween clearance sale that she would be so completely focused on the whole princess theme this year? In all practicality, I was not about to go buy a brand new $30-50 costume just to satisfy this year's whim. And as everyone knows, I can't sew one. So I used my power of persuasion to save myself (and Tim) a few bucks. And I won. Doesn't she look pretty?

Caution: Do not mix with bleach.

I am convinced that motherhood decreases brain capacity. Despite the multi-tasking skills we quickly acquire out of necessity, I'm pretty sure that the number of times I have done something stupid like locking my keys in the car, letting go of a stroller(containing one of my children) on a hill while trying to rescue another of my children who fell off her tricycle, burning my hair at my brother's wedding while leaning over a candle, and other such things has increased ten fold since bearing children. It's as if some of my brain tissue comes out with the placenta.


About two weeks ago, my sister Jill was cleaning her bathroom (well, our bathroom, but since she is currently the primary user, I will call it hers) and found a stubborn spot that simply could not get scrubbed off with the multi-purpose bathroom cleaner with which I had supplied her. She asked if I had anything stronger. I suggested that she use a special shower cleaner that has never failed me in my bathroom. After trying that, she still couldn't get the little bugger off so I grabbed a product containing bleach, applied it to the area, and began scrubbing myself. I remarked to her that I can't stand the smell of bleach because I had a very special (for lack of a better word) roommate who bleached the toilet seat before and after each use. Before I could finish my sentence, I pretty much started to hyperventilate due to the fumes.

We both scrambled to open windows left and right, I turned the shower on full blast to flush the cleaner, and ran to the opposite end of the house. Not good enough. I could barely breathe and started to wonder what sort of damage I was doing to my children's lungs so we decided to evacuate. Jill and the girls wrapped a blanket around them while we waited on our back patio until the air was once again breathable.

Once inside, I checked the label of my shower cleaner which, of course, had printed in bold (caution: do not mix with bleach). As if I had to read the label to realize what an idiot I am. It pretty much stands to reason that you should not mix anything with bleach. To beat myself up even further, I proceeded to do some online research and discovered that I had mixed two chemicals that pretty much equated to a biological weapon. And I store them in my house? After this experience, I think I might have to go green on the household chemicals. Okay, so maybe I'm not completely sold on that idea. One thing I know for sure: my brains came out when I gave birth to my kids. My consolation: at least they kept some of them for themselves.

Here's a picture of the patio fun(Jill, Lily and Rachel snagged the blanket, leaving me to freeze) - can you tell it was a bit chilly that day?

We believe...

that the first principles and ordinances of the gospel are first, faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Second, repentance. Third, baptism by emergencies. As sung by Anna just a few minutes ago. Thanks for indulging me. I just didn't want to forget her cute less-than-perfect memorization of the Fourth Article of Faith.

Container play.

Sometimes Tim and I worry about Rachel. Scratch that. Sometimes I worry about Rachel. She's definitely behind the curve when it comes to reaching many developmental milestones. When I expressed a worry to my doctor about her lack of babbling at 8 months, he eased my concerns somewhat by indicating that her position in the family is likely more responsible than any sort of developmental problem. She simply doesn't get as much social interaction with her siblings and parents as the other two did.

I continue to have this nagging feeling (perhaps paranoia) that something is just off. On good days I attribute her quirkiness to the fact that her father is an engineer. On bad days, I toy with the possibility that she is autistic. In fact, it has become somewhat of a joke in our family (not a very funny one, I know) so that every strange trait she exhibits (like the fact that she sometimes crawls around with her head on the ground) is just a sign of autism.

If she is autistic, I will fight my natural tendency to be overwhelmed by the diagnosis and do what is necessary to help her. I, of all people, know that having a "special needs" child in the home, though tiring at times, is indeed a great blessing.

But that's not really what I wanted to blog about today. There is one area where I have discovered that Rachel is actually ahead of the game and that is her fine motor skills. Lately, she is fascinated with putting things into and taking them out of containers. Taking my kitchen tools out of their drawer. Putting them back in. Pulling Lily's toilet cup out of her potty. Carefully easing it back in. Emptying the downstairs toy basket of its contents. Tidying many of them up. Clearing off a shelf of books in our office. Putting them... okay that's definitely pushing it.

Today I was feeding her breakfast and she started putting little cereal chunks into the cupholders on her highchair tray instead of dropping them onto the floor as she did just a couple of weeks ago. Which makes me, for one, very pleased that she has mastered this skill because now I only have to sweep the floor once a day. Not twice. Or three times.

Division of labor.

I've had a really bad parenting day(or week, rather), so I figured I might be wise in avoiding the subject of my children tonight.

Instead, allow me to sing the praises of my husband.

He and I have become rather specialized in our respective fields over the course of our six-year marriage. I joked when we first got married that I would serve as the breadwinner and "put him through school", as they say. Turns out, the money that he earned as an intern for Micron and at his part-time job on campus was at least equal to, if not greater than my annual salary working for the Lieutenant Governor of Utah. Tim is, simply put, a great provider.

My income has been negligible for years now. I do the budget, clip the coupons, shop the sales.

Tim babies the lawn. I designed our landscaping, plant the shrubs and bulbs, weed the garden.

Tim rinses the dinner dishes. I wash all the other dishes.

Tim takes out the trash. I fill it up.

I am primarily responsible for the nurture of the aforementioned individuals who will remain nameless, since I said I wouldn't mention them tonight. Tim nurtures me.

Anyway, you get the point.

Sometimes, I get so absorbed in my own frenzied life as a mother and homemaker that I fail to recognize all the things that Tim does so that I don't have to. For instance, I threw out a diaper today in the pail in our garage designated for such refuse and thought, "Tim empties this thing every stinking week (literally, stinking) and I rarely give it a moment's notice."

I often tease him that I can count on one hand (actually, two fingers, for the record) the number of times he has cleaned a toilet since we married. Well, how many times have I fixed the computer?

Division of labor is an essential method of coping with the demands of a growing family. We embody it to a "t". The only ingredient we lack at times is the ability to recognize what each person contributes to the whole. And the whole is pretty darn great, if I do say so myself.

Playing catch-up.

We haven't been able to post any recent pictures on the blog for over a month now because of some malfunction with our computer so I figured I would indulge in a bit of updating. Thanks to our in-home computer whiz for making it all possible.
We started giving Rachel baths in the sink because her sisters protest that she splashes them too much in the face. No kidding. I don't think there was an inch of floorspace in the kitchen that was left untouched by her moment of bathtime fun. Good times.





I'm probably bordering on inappropriate by posting the above picture, but it really captures the pretend play that Anna and Lily are SO into right now. Anna always ends up being the princess and Lily the bad guy somehow...(funny how that happens) except when I'm the bad guy. Last week I was the jealous queen and my sweet little princesses were trying to kill me, but "just pretend" of course. So here's bad guy Lily, complete with red cape, blue bow tie, and pirate sword tucked into her makeshift hilt.

This is one of the last two of six boxes peaches that my neighbor Malauna and I were supposed to can after spending an entire day canning the first four and putting up a whopping 56 jars. As I put it to Ryan (Malauna's husband) on the phone after I discovered the scene in my storage room: "The good news is, we don't have to can any more peaches this year..."

One of the first of Anna's practice sheets from Joy School . I think it's rather impressive for a four year old, personally. I suppose, too, that she's very fortunate not to share the name of her classmate, Katherine.

Can you believe we had made it through 4 1/2 years of parenting with no permanent marker damage to speak of? Anna managed to scrub it off in minutes, but Lily was still wearing it well into the next day.

Dora, Dora, Dora the Explorer.

We moved all three girls into the same bedroom over a month ago. The main potential problem we foresaw at the time was what we would do with Anna during "quiet time". She rarely naps anymore but still spends an hour alone playing "quietly". Or not so quietly. In any case, we figured that if we put all three girls in the bedroom each afternoon, it would be more like "party time" so we opted to keep Anna out in the hallway instead. We kind of tricked her into thinking that the hallway was a special place by buying a cheap inflatable Dora chair/bed and putting it right next to the bookcase that houses all the children's literature that we own. She completely fell for it. Everyone wanted a piece of the Dora chair.

The chair has since lost its appeal, probably because it's completely deflated, thanks to a few microscopic holes that the kids managed to create by jumping on it. I guess that's what we get for being too cheap to invest in a beanbag chair.

Done list.

Someone (was it you Stacy?) recently suggested the idea of a "done" list, as opposed to a "to do" list and I must say that it has changed my outlook on things. It is definitely my tendency to keep things organized by creating a "to do" list and checking things off so that life doesn't get too crazy. But I find, quite often, actually, that many things don't get crossed off before I have a gazillion other things added to the darned thing. A "to do" list kind of embodies that whole glass is half-empty rather than half-full sort of feeling. Being me, though, I can't quite do away with the whole idea; otherwise, my entire life would just melt into utter chaos, I'm convinced. Rather, I have started making a mental note of all the things I have done in a given day, whether or not it was on the original "to do" list. So here's today's "done" list:
1. Got out of bed.
2. Got the kids fed, dressed, etc.
3. Took Anna to Joy School.
4. Went grocery shopping.
5. Went to my book club.
6. Picked Anna up from Joy School. Came home with an extra child, whose mother had to attend a PTO meeting.
7. Came home and played hide-and-seek with the kids.
8. Fixed lunch for 4 children.
9. Cleaned up lunch, swept the kitchen floor.
10. Watched another mom's child so that she could go to the cannery.
11. Took a half hour nap in between Anna and Lily in my bed. Read my scriptures.
12. Took a shower and got ready for the day (at 3:15!)
13. Woke the kids up, helped them clean up the family room, fed them all a snack.
14. Dropped off neighbor's child and took Anna to dance class.
15. Came home and fixed dinner.
16. Cleaned up from dinner, swept the kitchen floor (can you tell I have an 11 month old?).
17. Dropped off books and DVD's at the Bookmobile.
18. Came home and put Rachel to bed.
19. Had family prayer and scripture study with the older girls.
20. Put the kids to bed.
21. Posted a blog entry.

I don't know that I have much energy left to accomplish anything else, but I sure feel a lot better articulating what I did today, rather than feeling less of a person for only crossing one thing off of my "to do" list. How about you?

Children will listen.

Yesterday as the Saturday morning session of General Conference began, I rushed inside (after planting bulbs) to change clothes. The choir was singing the opening song. I came downstairs a couple of minutes later and could hear someone giving the opening prayer. I paused at the bottom of the stairs to bow my head, but before I could close my eyes, I couldn't help but notice Anna and Lily, kneeling over their coloring books, arms folded, eyes closed, head bowed. What an example.

Foresight in Fall.

As autumn rolls around, I feel the urge to do away with yard work. After all, Tim and I have spent the last 5 months sprucing up the lawn, weeding, planting, weeding, fertilizing, spraying for bugs, cutting flowers, pruning bushes, weeding, spreading bark, weeding... you get the picture. When the cool weather sets in, I just want to clean my house from top to bottom since I will be spending the next several months quarantined inside of it. Or better yet, I just want to curl up by the fire with my Stephen's hot cocoa and read a good book.

Instead, I try to have a little bit of foresight. When spring rolls around, there's nothing like watching the crocuses come up amidst the last winter snow. Or smelling the hyacinths on a windy March evening. Or enjoying the show of color that tulips provide in April. It's exhilarating to watch my yard blossom, relaxing in the knowledge that most of the work was done months before. So when October hits, I plant bulbs. Lots of them. 334 of them this year, to be exact. And when spring hits and the above tulips surround my flowering plum tree in the back yard, I will be thanking my lucky stars. Ooh, I can't wait till spring.

Kids and TV.

I grew up in a home where we watched little to no TV. We were only allowed to watch it on Fridays and Saturdays, and only after homework and chores were done. Incidentally, those days I wanted to spend doing other things, so I really didn't watch much TV growing up, period. So I'm having a hard time understanding what it is about my kids that gives them the ability to watch endless hours of TV without interruption without any hope of satisfaction. Admittedly, I have never tried letting them watch that much TV, but based on the amount of times in a day I hear "Mom, can I watch a show?", I have little doubt that they prefer it to just about anything (except candy, of course). If you ever get a chance to meet Tim's Grandpa Toney and watch him while the TV is on, you might gain some insight as to the possibility of my children inheriting the TV-devouring gene.

Anyway, today was one of those days. We had to stay inside because Rachel has been pretty miserable with a cold and I just wanted to allow her the rest she needed to get over it. The girls cleaned their room, we put away all their summer clothes and got out their fall clothes, we made a Texas Sheet Cake, colored, played in the rain, played hide-and seek, played I Spy, danced to a great CD called See Me Run... it's not as if I didn't keep the girls occupied. But I still got "Mom can I watch a show?" at least five times, including when we had a friend over to play.

Still, I kept my resolve and am grateful, because I just stumbled across this article on the web about the link between TV viewing and behavioral problems. Though it does leave room for the possibility that behavioral problems actually contribute to more TV-viewing instead of the reverse, I am strengthened in my own resolve to keep saying "no" to the TV, even though it takes a lot more work on my part. A lot.