Roadblocks.

As we decluttered in preparation for putting our house on the market, I determined that the maternity clothes were not in high demand, boxed them up and put them in the garage. My regular clothes are starting to get a bit uncomfortable so I went out there tonight in order to be prepared. You guessed it. I couldn't find them. Every box out there is labeled according to its contents, but somehow maternity clothes slipped under the radar and probably ended up in some other box with unrelated contents. Augh! Hopefully I still have a few weeks.
I also found out a few weeks ago that I would have to switch doctors because Tim's company has drastically altered their insurance plan. Not only that, but I will be going to a different hospital. I've heard good things about the new hospital, particularly that they are very accommodating to mothers opting for a medication-free birth (a plus for me), but I'm still inconvenienced that my wonderful doctor (who carried me through my last two pregnancies) will not be a part of this one. What I liked most about my doctor? Despite his wealth of schooling and experience, he acknowledges a mother's experience and does not express strong opinions unless asked specifically (or, of course, when it is medically necessary). He also complies to mom's wishes regarding her pregnancy and birth (within reason, of course). He doesn't understand why I want to deliver my babies without an epidural, but he is not inconvenienced by the fact that he has less control over the timing of my deliveries, given the fact that I can feel everything and my labor is not slowed down by the epidural (as some are). I will miss him.
Anyway, I've hit a few roadblocks. But I will conquer. Oh, and if it turns out that I did, in fact, accidentally shove the box containing my maternity clothes into the section headed for D.I., does anyone want to donate to the Save Susie's Pregnancy Wardrobe Fund?

A daily breakfast tradition.

I'd like to break the cold cereal habit. Don't get me wrong, there are worse foods one can indulge in than cold cereal every morning. After all, they're enriched, right? My two main problems are cost and satiety (or lack thereof). The amount of cereal we consume as a family and the resulting cost makes $4/gallon gas sound like a bargain. Also, I can't help but imagine a day when my kids aren't begging for a snack by 9:30 a.m. Maybe if I loaded them up on heartier foods in the wee hours of the morning, we might actually have full tummies for a season.

I've had this idea for months, but thanks to my pregnancy have not yet put it into practice. Heck, I can barely get dinner on the table, and now I have to make a breakfast menu? So, if you have any ideas of fairly simple breakfasts that will add variety, save money, increase satiety, and/or get us all to sit down together each morning, I'm open for any and all suggestions.

And we're having another one because?

You know you're a young mother when you're about to put in a Baby Einstein DVD for your toddler so that she'll stay out of your hair while you keep a two-day migraine at bay. You find yourself running for the throne so you can puke what little you have left in your stomach since puking a few hours earlier while two of your children stand in the doorway in total dismay and the oldest calls from her position on the couch, "Mom's barfing, leave her alone!"

You emerge, light-headed, and within seconds, one daughter asks, "Mom, can you get me a snack?" and another complains that you didn't put the DVD in before visiting the bathroom. The toddler just wants to sit on your lap.

Feeling my age.

There are days when I can't believe it wasn't yesterday that I graduated from high school. Other days, I'm well aware of the three kids that surround me, the bread-dough belly that bringing them into the world has gifted me, and the maturity and perspective with which life has blessed me in the past 13 years.

So I can't help but be flattered when total strangers act surprised when they realize that I'm over 30. This happened 3 times in one week, without provocation, I might add. Bless them. Bless them all.

The snake river stampede.

As part of the summer reading program associated with our public library, the kids are awarded a ticket to the annual rodeo in Nampa (about 30 minutes west of us). We braved the event with all three kids this year. As a bonus, if you're one of the first to arrive, there's plenty of free stuff handed out at the entrances. We walked away with 5 bandanas, 2 farm animal figurines, and a water bottle. We could've gotten more, but after waiting on the asphalt in 100 degree heat for half an hour, we were more than happy to snag our hard-earned front row (in the general admission section, that is) seat.

Why I'm sold on joy school.

I've found myself in a bit of a quandary. Fully expecting that there would be plenty of moms willing to join me in organizing a Joy School group for my second oldest child, the previously-committed are actually not so committed. They're dropping like flies, in fact. The group of 6 mother-teachers that I thought I had recruited has dwindled to only 3 and one maybe (a new recruit herself, as of today).

Though I understand the reasons why individuals prefer to send their kids to a local preschool and I certainly don't judge those who wish to do so, I am frustrated by the circumstances. Lily has been exposed to Joy School since Anna began two years ago, loves it, and has been looking forward to her own Joy School experience since then. I can't let her down. And yet, I can't do it with only two other moms!

As a cry out to people who either might be interested or know someone who might be interested, I issue my top reasons for doing Joy School as an alternative to a traditional preschool.

1. It's super-cheap. At $280 for four semesters (2 years) for an unlimited number of children within the same family, it's a steal even when compared with reasonably-priced Boise preschools (the cheapest I know of is $990 for the same length of time, and that's just for one kid!).

2. It's basically an extension of parenting. The Joy School curriculum teaches values that I'm already trying to instill in my children on a daily basis. The difference is, the lessons are getting reinforced by other moms I trust. Academics will be part of school for the rest of their lives, but when else are they going to learn the joys of goal-setting, individual confidence, trust, imagination and so many others?

3. I know that my little ones will only be around for a short time. I want to cherish those years. While I enjoy the "break" twice a week during the weeks that others teach, I also relish the level of involvement I have in their early childhood education as I do Joy School. I know exactly what they are learning and I can reinforce it at home.

4. The rapport with other mother-teachers is unbeatable. We hold regular planning meetings (well, at least planning is supposed to be what we do) and I truly value the advice we all give each other in our teaching (and parenting) roles. Teaming up with other experienced moms gives one sanity amid the chaos that is motherhood.

5. It's really not that hard. When I tell people that I participate in a mother's co-op preschool where we each teach, many people look at me with incredulity and say something to the effect of, "Well, that's great, but I just don't have it in me." To which I want to say, "Believe me, I am no supermom." The Joy School curriculum is all online, complete with a detailed lesson plan and all the materials you need to teach. The first year was more challenging, because we had to make all the flannelboard cut-outs and tools used in the lessons, but now that everything is made, the prep time is significantly reduced. Plus, as a seasoned teacher, my stress level is minimal. Crazy, undisciplined children simply don't get to me as they used to. And I've learned tons of tricks about how to get even the most difficult children under control. Priceless.

6. Many moms look forward to a bit of a break from their kids. I fully understand why, but for some reason don't crave it as others do. But I do think that my kids need a break from me, a chance to spread their wings, to interact with kids their age in a learning environment and to learn respect for adults other than their parents. (Ha! As if they respect their parents.)
So, on the days when I watch my daughter run happily to the front door of a trusted friend for a fun-filled 2 hours of Joy School, I can rest easy. Because this is "her" time. Okay, and I guess it's "my" time, too. Precious time to spend with my other children. Or to get something done.

So there's the short list. No, Joy School is not for everybody. But it most definitely is for me.

Oh, and if there's anyone out there who has ever done Joy School and has something to add to this list, please leave a comment.

War wounds in Park City.

We spent a few days in Utah last weekend for a wedding on Tim's side of the family. Since occasion rarely permits visits with his parents and siblings, we enjoyed what little time we had. I also had a few wounds to show for our visit.
Tim challenged me to a race down the alpine slides in Park City. He should know better than to do such a thing to his competitive, pregnant wife. I took him on, of course, each of us carrying one of our children as a passenger. Dumb, dumb, dumb. I floored the sled the entire time, leaving little resistance between it and the cement path we cascaded down.
Sure enough, when we hit a particularly sharp turn, the sled turned slightly on its side, sending Anna and I partially onto the cement, sliding at 20 plus miles per hour on my left side until we recovered and finished the race, bruised and battered. Well, at least I was. Anna emerged without a scratch. Thank heaven for a mother's instinct to put her child first. I must have cradled her completely, suffering the brunt of the damage to my left elbow and knee. Honestly though, at the speeds we reached, the damage could (and should) have been far worse. The best part? After we recovered our positions on the sled, my also-very competitive daughter remarked to me, "Mom, it's okay if we don't win. I don't care anymore." Ha! It's nice to know that our lives are more important to her than winning. Great life lesson, I suppose. Here's what I have to show for it:

As if that wasn't enough, I slammed Lily's thumb in the car door before leaving the ski resort. The sliding door, no less. Yes, I had several brilliant moments that day. I knew it was bad when she immediately screamed, "It's okay, it's okay! It doesn't hurt! It's okay!", all while in complete hysterics. This, from my child who needs a band-aid for a "pretend" owie. Luckily, an x-ray at the doctor's office revealed no damage, just some serious bruising that should heal up in a week or so. Phew.

Another show bites the dust.

The TV is rarely on at our house. Still, when there's laundry to be done, Tim and I are always grateful when we've just picked up the latest season of one of our favorite shows from the Bookmobile. Last week, after getting one of the DVD sets to such a show, we prepared for the week-long marathon. Even better, we were home alone and could watch it without having to turn the volume down.
I think we got through about 4 episodes before determining that we were using the fast forward button way too much. It was so loaded with sex, violence, profanity and other such content that I couldn't help but question my commitment to it. On the other hand, it's an amazing show. Great mix of sci-fi and drama, complex characters, deep themes, captivating story... it was a hard one to give up. But that's exactly what we did. Just couldn't justify it.
Tim and I have reluctantly given up shows we love in the name of censorship. Many times. Usually, I'm the one who initiates it, mostly because my minimal exposure to TV and movies as a kid left me less desensitized that my all-summer-long-unlimited-TV-viewing husband. I can't blame him. But he never gives me grief about it. He's a good man. After our most recent sacrifice, I apologized that my sensitivity to media content causes us to relinquish so much of our post-bedtime(for the kids) entertainment. Tim replied, "Abraham was willing to sacrifice his only son to show his commitment to the Lord, I think we can give up a few shows here and there." Thank you, Tim, for putting things into perspective.

Homemade goodness.

Confession: I haven't cooked a real dinner in over a month. After discovering I was pregnant in May, I was still feeling relatively good and I swore that I would not let my pregnancy interfere with my ability to feed my family healthy meals. Reality check less than a week later: at 4 pm, when I should be getting dinner on the table, I want nothing more than to plug my kids into a movie, take a snooze on the couch, and pray that Tim comes home on time to grill something up. How can I cook dinner under such circumstances? I know, I know, life is often about pushing through when the going gets tough. I need to buck up and keep my vomit to myself while cutting raw chicken or slicing onions. I just haven't.

So our dinner menu since the beginning of June has consisted of mostly the following:

mac and cheese, pizza (carry-out or frozen, take your pick), ramen noodles, grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup, quesadillas, grilled hot dogs and hamburgers, half-price Happy Meals at McD's on Tuesdays, and dinner at whatever other restaurant for which we can dig out a coupon. It's embarrassing. But I do manage to throw together some sort of veggie or fruit with each meal. Usually.

And it's expensive. Tim and I always calculate into our decision to have another child the first trimester budget, which includes a whole lot more prepared meals from Costco and way more eating out. Still, I think this pregnancy takes the cake. And it's not just because we have more kids. I've just become lazy in my old age.

I showed up for a doctor's appointment this morning to tip-toe onto the scale, as if that would lessen the blow, and found that I have already gained 4 pounds! I don't usually gain an ounce until the second trimester is well under way. So today I made a menu to last us through the end of the month. I might gag all the way through the pre-dinner hour, but at least there will be a reasonably healthy dinner on the table to show for it. And hopefully I'll have much better news to report after my next visit with the doctor. 4 pounds, ouch.

Life without the little ones.

Tim's parents have the kids for a few days so Tim and I are "on vacation" of sorts. We're still at home, Tim still goes to work everyday, I still have mounds of projects, but we are unencumbered by the demands of three children. For now. What have I been up to, you ask? As much I was I lured by dreams of daily soaks in the tub, lounging by the pool with a good book, and a trip or two to the mall to experience shopping without an overloaded stroller, I have been able to check none of the above off my list. Instead, I've been spending my mornings over at our rental house preparing it for the next tenants, my lunch hour eating out with Tim, and my afternoons sleeping away. I am, after all, still in my first trimester of pregnancy and can't muster the energy to keep plugging through the afternoon. And why should I? My girls aren't here to wake me up.

The vacay ends tomorrow, when we will meet up with the kiddos and, once again, assume full responsibility. I miss them. I don't miss sweeping my floor twice a day, breaking up fights, dragging them all to the pool when all I want to do is lay on the couch, and turning the TV volume way down and the closed captioning on when Tim and I want to watch a show after bedtime. But I miss the meaning and purpose with which they fill my life. Because trimming bushes and weeding just ain't cutting it.

The Godfather.

I have always been the type to try something new each time I go to the same restaurant. Tim? He finds a favorite menu item and orders it over and over. And over. Carne Asada burrito at Beto's, Outback Special at Outback Steakhouse, Louisiana Chicken Pasta at Cheesecake Factory to name just a few. There are advantages to this behavior. Tim always loves what he orders. It's pretty hit and miss for me. I'm somewhat adventurous, so I'm rarely disappointed with my selection but there are those few occasions where Tim gloats and says "I told you so" in so many terms. Still, I'd rather spice up the experience in the hopes that what I order will at least match if not beat what I ate the last time.

Of course, there's one exception to the rule. Gandolfo's Deli. I've been going to Gandolfo's since I was a junior in high school and usually try to hit the joint each time I'm in town visiting my parents. We recently discovered that a franchise had opened here in Boise and, on top of that got a buy one get one free coupon in our Valpak this month. Wahoo! As Tim and I approached the counter, he asked me what I was getting. Well, The Godfather of course! What else? Chicken cutlet, marinara, mozzarella, parmesan cheese, tomato, salt and pepper on a buttered hero roll. Love it so much I can't bear to try anything else. Keep The Godfather coming.

Let us all press on.

When I was younger my family attempted to teach us kids the hymn Let Us All Press On. I'm assuming it was an attempt to get us to sing in sacrament meeting. We worked on all three verses until we had it perfect. We might have done the same with other hymns but this is the only one I remember.

Early this year, we started the practice of singing a hymn between family scripture study and family prayer each night. We choose the hymn during Family Home Evening on Monday night and sing it daily until the kids pretty much have it memorized. Then we start over again with a new hymn. Again, the goal is to help the kids recognize some of the hymns we sing in sacrament meeting so that they will be more inclined to join in than continue working feverishly on their coloring pages.

It's worked pretty well. They've been pretty excited when the organ pipes up with Love At Home, The Iron Rod, I Stand All Amazed, and other favorites, sometimes embarrassing us by singing at full blast. For the past two weeks, we attempted to learn Let Us All Press On, it having been a fond childhood memory of mine. The kids loved it! When we switched to High on the Mountain Top this week, they agreed but quietly protest each night by beginning our nightly hymn ritual with Let Us All Press On. They sing it in the car, around the house, in the yard... all the while proclaiming their love for the song.

I think it's cute. I also wonder what the draw is to this particular hymn. After all, it is perhaps the only song I can claim to have memorized at age 5 and now my children have followed in my footsteps. So, if you want your kids to start singing hymns in sacrament meeting, you now know which one to begin with.

Lament in a buyer's market.

As we were walking out the door to church last Sunday we got a call from a realtor wanting to show our house that day at noon (right as we would be getting out of church). The house was a disaster. Yes, I know the primary song "Saturday is a special day, it's the day we get ready for Sunday", but it simply had not happened. We turned the realtor down. I was not about to stay home from sacrament meeting to clean my house from top to bottom. I need the blessings.

Yesterday we had another realtor call to schedule a showing for the wife of a husband who had seen it two weeks before. We were encouraged, though second showings in the past have not turned up any actual offers for us. So Tim and I worked harder than we would for a regular showing to prepare the house. Then this morning, amid packing for a July 4th trip to visit my parents, I continued the drudgery, leaving the house 15 minutes ahead of time completely spotless with a beautiful vase of lilies from my garden resting on the kitchen table.

They were half an hour late, but my neighbor was kind enough to let us eat lunch and play at her house until it was safe to go back inside. When it was all said and done, I called the realtor to see how it went to which she responded, "Thanks for being available, but she doesn't want power lines." They didn't even set foot in the house!

I realize that this is a buyer's market, and that people have every right to be picky, but I was pretty ticked at having spent hours so that someone could turn up her nose at the power lines that run behind our property line. If she had walked in, she would have noticed what a non-issue the power lines are. You can't even see them from inside the house. And, if she had gone to the back yard, she might have discovered that the common area that houses these power lines is the very reason we have a gorgeous, unobstructed view of the Boise foothills. Not to mention the host of attributes the inside and outside of our house have to offer.

I know, I'm a biased homeowner. But we've had people come view our house who agree that the power lines are unobtrusive and pale in comparison to the view and the openness that having no backyard neighbors affords. I'm just put out, that's all. Put out that the lady whose husband ranked our house as one of his top three couldn't even muster the energy to give it a chance. She didn't even set foot in the house...

Could you pass the citizenship test?

When I was on the brink of graduating from BYU I met with a counselor who informed me that somehow my AP American History credit would not count for the classes I had intended it to fulfill. One of the many frustrations I encountered while attending "the true school". I tried to skirt the issue by taking a challenge exam to pass out of them, much like returned missionaries do to get 4 semesters of language credit out of the way.

I bought a pretty comprehensive book on U.S. History, read it in a month, and took the tests. I got a C on one and a C+ on the other. I took the hit to my GPA and graduated soon after. Seven years later, it looks like I've still got the stuff. Haven't studied an ounce of American history since then, but at least I could pass the citizenship test with flying colors. How about you?