Bah humbug!

I admit, I'm a one-holiday kind of girl. For me, it's Christmas, Christmas, and more Christmas. Sure, since having kids I humor them on each holiday by planning the corresponding activities, but they're usually last-minute, inexpensive, and half-hearted, at best. Homemade valentines in February, green pancakes on St. Patty's Day, dyeing eggs for Easter - bare bones sort of stuff.
I'm getting better, though. I bought my candy the day before Halloween this year, to avoid the pre-Halloween binge that inevitably fuels my distaste for the holiday, my neighbor solved my costume woes by offering to sew the "My Little Pony" costume that Lily insisted on wearing, and we dug up some cool carving stencils and tools with which to make our most exciting jack-o-lanterns ever (thanks Aunt Jill!).
It's been a good day. All three girls gave me 45 minutes to myself to hand out candy while they scoured the neighborhood. The younger two have since returned and are consuming the goods at their discretion (or lack, thereof). Anna's still going strong with dad to triple what her sisters took in. Maybe we'll watch a movie and call it a night. While I might not ever love Halloween - I sure do love my kids and their enjoyment of it. And I might sneak a few pieces of candy, here and there.

Deep sleep.

I should be embarrassed to admit this... but I'm not.
When I was a kid I had bladder issues. You know, of the I-wet-my-bed-till-I-was-in-fourth-grade (give or take?) variety. One of my most vivid memories was of dreaming that I was walking to the bathroom, sitting down to relieve myself, and then doing so, only to find myself lying in a puddle of warmth. Wet warmth, to be exact. Ugh. Not so relieving after all.
I never imagined that such discomfort would weasel its way into my early thirties. Well, it has. Last night I fought my conscience urging me to drag my exhausted limbs out of bed before turning out the light to empty what little may have been left in my bladder. At 3:43 a.m. I paid for it. That's right, I wet the bed. Well, not exactly. I wet my pants, which, fortunately were absorbent enough to avoid a complete change of sheets.
Yes, my childhood dream has resurfaced in all its glory. And it was so stinkin' real there was no fighting it. Except by taking care of business before hitting the pillow, that is. Which is exactly what I plan to do every night from here on out.

Woe is me.

I've never looked forward to November 5th more. Will this election just be over? Though I'm not undecided about my choice of candidates, I can't get excited about any of them. For me, November 4th will be a "lesser of two evils" decision for me. Oh, so sad.
That being said, I have a few thoughts on the issue of health care. I know it's a mess. Unfortunately, coming up with a decent solution is not easy and I certainly haven't given it enough thought to propose anything solvent. What I do know, however, is that I dislike the idea of funding anyone else's medical care, particularly those with preventable conditions, and those whose costs could have been shouldered had they purchased their own health insurance. I know, I know, we're already doing that. It's in the form of higher insurance premiums, employer cutbacks to insurance benefits, taxes that fund Medicaid and other health-related programs... but is more government subsidization for health care the answer? I'm not convinced. My reasoning? Most government-subsidized programs encourage irresponsibility. When people know they can get something for nothing, most will go for it. It's simply human nature. Even otherwise hard-working people will take advantage of freebies when they are made available to them. I see it all the time. I don't blame them, I blame the system for providing incentives that encourage people to look to the government first, instead of relying upon our own enterprise or our families in times of need.
Allow me to illustrate. Less than a year after Tim and I got married, we decided that it was time to "stop preventing" pregnancy, as we put it. Though we had no idea how long it would take us to conceive, we purchased supplemental insurance and added it to the catastrophic policy we had acquired when we first married. Of course, our premiums went up, but we figured this would lower the cost of having a baby overall. Fellow students advocated applying for Medicaid, for which we would most certainly have qualified, being students and having very little income. "We didn't have to pay a cent!", they argued, which only solidified my opinion that our planning was the right decision. Though they might have had to delay starting a family without the help of Medicaid, we didn't have to, and we preferred it that way.
We were pregnant within two months. Tim started a summer internship in Boise, forcing me to quit my job and lose my benefits while I spent the summer completing school and working feverishly to find a new job in Utah in the fall. Call it luck, but the job I found completely paid for all costs associated with my pregnancy, labor, delivery, and postpartum checkups for our first daughter. I consider it a blessing for having prepared adequately to shoulder the financial burden ourselves. I could be wrong.
Soon after having Anna, Tim graduated from college, without having acquired a full-time position. We relied upon his parents' good will and moved in with them while he searched for a long-term solution. Although we had no income stream for those few months, we had saved a bit of money during school and decided to buy health insurance until a new job could provide a better alternative. Times were uncertain for us, but with Tim's parents limiting our living expenses, we felt it important to insure our little family against any unforeseen problems.
Again, we were blessed. Tim found a great job working for Micron, making more money than our "poor student" brains could handle and we started our lives anew.
Now, I may be oversimplifying things by using a personal example as justification for my lack of support for subsidized health care. I think there is a place for government assistance. I don't pass judgment on my friends who have benefitted from such assistance, rather on the system that rewards people for not emphasizing personal responsibility first. Relying upon taxpayer money to pay medical bills (and other expenses) should be a last resort only. Many of us would be more inclined to prepare for a rainy day and turn to our family and friends if a faceless government did not make financial assistance such a viable option. The fact remains that someone is paying for these programs. And they don't have any choice in the matter, so they cannot benefit from the "charity" they dole out in the form of taxes. In a perfect world, we'd all take care of ourselves and each other and we'd reap the rewards of doing so. In an imperfect world, I don't have the answer. There must be some way we can help out our neighbors without discouraging accountability. I just don't know what it is.

P.S. I realize that I take risks at offending by expressing my position on certain issues. That's not my goal. But this is, after all, a blog. And I welcome comments to the contrary. As long as they're not too personal. Because I tried to make this as impersonal as possible.

Falling in love with fall.

We had a plan last weekend. Since I had accompanied Anna's kindergarten class to the pumpkin farm on Friday, Tim would take the two younger girls on Saturday while Anna and I attended a Primary activity. So when Tim came home early from work on Friday, sick with a stomach bug, things changed. Instead, I got to go the Primary activity, rush home and make lunch for everyone, and cart all three kids around the pumpkin farm with enough time to get Anna back for an afternoon birthday party.
Thankfully, the girls were perfect angels. They stayed close by my side, never complained about how far they had to lug their own pumpkins, and left the farm without incident. Considering that we had cut into their naptime by an hour, it was truly a miracle. The weather was perfect and the kids even said thank you without provocation on the car ride home (before crashing in their carseats). How sad that dad had to miss the excursion.
Sadly, bad lighting, trouble juggling the camera (and three young kids... and their pumpkins) and a lack of photography skill rendered me unable to capture the joy of the day. Too bad. Here's a few shots, anyway.

Converting the world, one person at a time.

Early in June, while visiting Boston, one of my old college friends introduced me to Facebook. No, I'm not from the Stone Age; I knew what Facebook was, but my main impression was of a younger sister who, while living with us, checked it so regularly that Tim and I finally gave into buying a second computer for Christmas last year. Yes, Jill, you were the inspiration. Hee. Hee.
Upon my friend's suggestion that I set up an account to better keep in touch with long lost singing buddies from Boston U., I did so when I got home from my trip. And haven't really done anything since. I've got a photo (a kind of weird one, at that), a hometown, and that's pretty much it.
I keep getting invitations from friends, who I add to my facebook list, some of which are ones with whom I've not been in touch since before getting married (which seems like an eternity ago). It's rather thrilling, if you ask me. Almost makes me want to jump the bandwagon. Or not.
Something about Facebook makes me wary. Perhaps its the cult-like following, its addictive quality, its propensity to become an enormous time-waster. Arguably, blogging could be categorized in the same fashion. But at least I can pass off blogging as family history. Facebook? I need a little more encouragement. So, if you're a facebook faithful, or not, please tell me why. Otherwise, I'll just keep my head stuck in the sand, as always.

Allowance time.

We've run into a section of scripture during our nightly family study time that primarily discusses units of currency. Since there's not much to discuss on the matter (of a spiritual nature, that is), tonight Tim asked the girls "What do we do with money?"
Anna said, "We save it."
Tim continued, "That's right. What if we need to spend it?"
She replied, "Then we buy something with it, something that's on sale."
Yeah. We're doing something right.

There's a pile of rocks in our driveway.

Yep. It's been sitting there since the end of August. It was on our list of September projects. Since then we've had a string of scheduled (or inclement weather) Saturdays during which Tim hasn't been able squeeze in the time to wheelbarrow (can I use that as a verb?) them back behind our property as weed control.

Our neighbors despise us, because this never-dwindling pile of rocks serves as a great playground for little kids who can't resist the urge to climb it, slide down it, toss a few rocks around the driveway, or collect a few samples and take them home. My kids included, of course. But Tim is not a fan of the mess - so the rocks are off-limits, a sore tempation for little ones and a pain in the rear for those of us attempting to control them.

I'm trying my hardest to pick up the slack at home - requesting very little from my busy husband, who's been working later the last few months, and growing more and more inundated with additional projects - a broken fridge at our rental property, sprinkler issues, busted toilets, etc. All of which he is too cheap (and too handy) to hire someone out to help him. I love him for that. I've even resorted to mowing the lawn - something I swore I would never do - lest I set a dangerous precedent and end up doing it for the rest of my life. Or at least until my girls are teenagers.

Anyway, my point is not to complain, but to illustrate our current situation. I realized yesterday that much of what prevents Tim from checking to-do's off his list is his willingness to serve at inconvenient times. He responds about 90% of the time to last-minute calls for help with those moving into our neighborhood. He takes time off of work to serve at the cannery. He serves faithfully as a home teacher and in his calling. I'm sure many of you can say the same about your husbands, as well. Yesterday, he agreed to help clean the church when there was no one else available. He showed up and found our good bishop and his kids helping out. Yeah, as if the bishop has nothing else on his plate...

Tim could certainly explain away an inability to serve with his 3 very young children and pregnant wife at home. It's so easy to anticipate that someone else with a less hectic lifestyle could more easily do it. I've done it. But notwithstanding the fact that there may not be anyone out there with a less hectic schedule, more importantly, the depth of our sacrifice is a measure of our hearts and ultimately, our standing with God. I'm grateful that Tim wants to score more points in heaven than on earth. He is a true example to me.

Oh, and I'm also pretty stoked that he managed to spend a few hours whittling the aforementioned pile of rocks down to about 1/3 its previous size.

24 hour flu.

I've woken up to barf the past two mornings. This phenonmenon is unique to my youngest daughter. I always thought that a 24-hour bug simply meant not being able to keep anything down for about 24 hours before a full recovery. Not so with Rachel. Her version includes vomiting once every 24 hours for an indefinite period before ridding herself of the bug. The strangest thing about it is that she seems perfectly normal in between these bouts.
My favorite time was earlier this summer when I was enjoying the nausea of early pregnancy and took the family to McDonald's for dinner. After playing happily in the PlayPlace for 45 minutes or so, she unloaded her dinner all over the floor. Yum.
The next night, we went to Applebee's (we went out to eat a lot during that period, you faithful readers might recall) and, after a relatively uneventful meal - meaning, there was no mad rush to get the check before someone had a meltdown - Rachel decided that my lap was a perfect location for a violent upheaval of her grilled cheese sandwich and lemonade. I covered her mouth and carried her, spewing liquid grossness through my fingers, from the restaurant. It was not one of my most glorious moments.
Anyway, I guess I should count my blessings that her latest 24 hour flu has not manifested itself in public. In fact, I am grateful, trust me. But I'm also praying that I don't get a 6:30 a.m. wake-up call tomorrow morning.

Shopping anyone?

The list has grown to such a length that there's no way I can possibly drag the girls through the store at such a clip so as to avoid any embarassments and still get everything on it. Even with the 5 minute (at best) distraction that an Albertson's chocolate chip cookie might provide, it's just not gonna happen. Bread and milk will just have to wait another day...

A truly organic experience.

Hot showers. Aren't they wonderful? In my life, showers fit into several categories:

1. The get-down-to-business shower. You know the type. It's basically a mad rush of shampooing, conditioning, washing, shaving, rinsing and toweling off before the kids kill each other.

2. The family shower. Once upon a time this involved only one child but rather than squeeze all three of my children into a small space, I now plop the two oldest into the soaker tub to play while Rachel and I mimic the get-down-to-business shower and hop out just in time to get dressed (or throw on a bathrobe, in my case) and help the older girls wash their hair.

3. The abbreviated get-down-to-business shower. Same as above, minus the shaving. Am I the only one with hairy legs half the time?

4. The forever shower. My personal favorite. It seems like forever, but it's probably more like 20 minutes - of pure bliss. I might fit in the essentials of cleaning but when I'm lucky enough to get a forever shower, the true joy of it is not in the logistics but in the experience. 20 minutes of back massaging hot water, 20 minutes of sheer cleanliness, 20 minutes alone. And that, is really where the magic lies.

Success is...

Two questions to which I can answer in the affirmative when I've had a successful day:
1. Did I spend quality time with my kids?
2. Was I able to complete several (if not, many!) tasks either on or off my to-do list?
I've had days where I've either done one or the other, and I've had a few days where I've pretty much done nothing worthwhile at all (though, thankfully, not many). Either way, I feel pretty crappy.
Take last Saturday, for example. Tim and I spent most of our day catching up on projects that were anxiously awaiting us after our weeklong trip to San Diego. In the accomplishment arena, we did just fine. But I don't think the kids left the house all day. We might have fed them a couple of times, maybe even played a game or two with them. Otherwise, our girls were victims of neglect. At the end of the day, I felt like a loser of a mother.
I've made up for it this week. This morning I even overlooked a mile-long grocery list so that we could visit the zoo. The kids were mesmerized by the new African plains exhibit - our dinky little zoo now has lions and giraffes! Seriously cool. And cold. We lasted about an hour in the 40-something degree weather.
Anyway, while I definitely feel that accomplishment takes a backseat to playing with my children, I need both components to feel some measure of success. And so it is. Enjoy the pictures.

Why not?

I've wanted to post about this for some time now - probably about a year, but have been somewhat wary because of the sensitive nature of the subject. I'm a reasonably opinionated person and once wrote about a topic that I feel very strongly about but somehow it all came out wrong so I withdrew the post. So, I post now with a small degree of trepidation, only because I know that the decision to experience an unmedicated birth is, for some, a deeply personal subject.
Not so much for me. I often have people ask me why I prefer to forego an epidural during childbirth (which is largely why I post about it now, because I've been asked SO many times, I thought I'd get it down on paper). My response to them: "Because I was curious." Although an epidural seems to go hand-in-hand with labor nowadays, with most medical professionals assuming that is the route each and every woman is going to take, I couldn't resist the draw to experience labor in all its glory. Just because. It's not as if I was opposed to medication - or that I would feel a failure for giving into the pleasure of a pain-free birth experience. I simply wanted to try it.
What I didn't know was that a unmedicated labor isn't something one just tries. One needs adequate preparation. So, after giving birth to my oldest and realizing that the oh-so-wonderful epidural I received came just 15 minutes before I was fully dilated, I decided to give it another go the second time around. I read numerous books on "natural childbirth" and talked to several moms about how they manage the pain, which empowered me to labor mostly at home with my second daughter, make it to the hospital only 45 minutes before giving birth to her and satisfy my curiosity about this whole childbirth thingy.
So, my curiosity abated, is it masochistic to keep doing it this way? Not at all. I really like it. To some, that may seem like lunacy. Much like it sounds insane to me to run over 26 miles in several hours. But tell that to one who has competed in a number of marathons and she'll probably tell you that, though tiring (and possibly painful at times), to accomplish a seemingly insurmountable goal is exhilarating. It's not like I enjoy contractions. Or that I feel completely composed while my insides feel like they're being crushed. But, in this case, for me, the outcome fully justifies the agony. Both times, my babies have been fully alert, ready to eat and placed gently in my arms without the complications that the IV's, catheters and numb legs resulting from epidurals present.
I could go on and on about the risks associated with epidurals, but you can research it for yourselves. Besides, it was only after I had committed myself to trying labor without medication that I discovered that information. Sure, the risks are small. But in my simple cost-benefit analysis and personal experience, I've found foregoing the epidural to be well worth it. And not just because it saved me $70 in coinsurance.
One final thought: no one can analyze another's labor. I've had a few well-meaning people somewhat minimize my pain by saying things like "well, your babies come fast" or "you were born to give birth". Maybe that's true, maybe it isn't. It's too subjective an experience to presume something like that. Which is why I perfectly understand why someone would opt for an epidural. Even the best of labors is, unless you are some lucky soul, excruciating.
So there you have it. I'm crazy and I love it. So, if you think you might be crazy enough to try birthing without an epidural, email me. I'm just full of ideas. You may find it to be horrific. You might discover it to be wondrous. More than likely, it'll be both.

Are you kidding me?

Okay, so there wasn't enough to build a full-fledged snowman, but ample accumulation to form a decent-sized head, compliments of Anna. Earliest date for snow accumulation in Boise ever. Yikes. I'm a warm weather chick at heart. It sure was beautiful watching it come down, though. From inside my toasty house, that is. While sipping hot cocoa. And donning my slippers.

Disneyland, poor man's style.

We scored tickets to San Diego in July that cost us barely over $500(including a Southwest credit) to fly our entire family roundtrip in October. Our last visit was over a year ago, October is low season at Disneyland (supposedly) but still warm enough to hit the beach, we figured it was a wise purchase. That was in July. The week before our scheduled vacation, the economy took a nosedive and we couldn't help but second-guess our decision. Sure, the plane tickets were cheap and paid for, but Disneyland (which we've been promising Anna for the last year)? Not so much. It looked more and more like we'd be shelling out the same amount of cash for Disneyland passes as we did just to get down there.

Well, we went through with it. And here's a bit of what Disneyland on a budget involves:

1. Packing lots of snacks. We pretty much lived on the fruit, vegetables, string cheese and trail mix I packed for the first day. Finally, 6:00 rolled around and we decided that something a bit more substantial was in order. Tim ran across the street to McDonald's and we chowed down on burgers and fries while we watched the parade. The second day we started off with Sausage McMuffins for breakfast, double cheeseburgers for lunch, and shared a $32 large pizza between 6 adults and 5 kids for dinner. Yep, that's right, we ate McDonalds three meals in a row. Ick.

2. Staying from open to close. We ran our kids (and ourselves!) ragged. The first day from 10 am to 8 pm and the second day from 8 am to 10 pm. Anna held up beautifully, Rachel indulged in a couple of very long stroller naps, and Lily, well she did what she does best, she melted down when the going got tough and fell asleep in my arms while waiting for the Haunted Mansion. I've never had sciatica before, but after 30 minutes of carrying a 35 pound child while 6 months pregnant, I think I'm starting to get the idea. As for me, I only melted down once - a crying session on a bench in Frontierland. I had good reason: Lily and her cousin ran off while I was helping Anna in the bathroom and it took us 5 minutes (an eternity!) to find them. Scary.

3. Filling up water bottles in the drinking fountains. Do you know how much it costs for bottled water in the magical kingdom? Me neither. I'm sure it tastes better than Anaheim tap water, though.

4. Cramming eight people into a dirt cheap motel room overnight to skip the parking and shuttle fees (not to mention the 1 1/2 hour drive from SD). And I truly mean "dirt" cheap. It's a place to sleep, right?

Check it out. We spent 24 hours in the park over a period of 36 hours and only took two pictures. That's how busy we were scurrying to and fro. Thank heaven we only do this once in a blue moon. I had blisters the size of China on each of my big toes.

A few other memories:

Anna's favorite ride was Space Mountain but she freaked out on the Nemo ride (a little too realistic for her, I suppose). She truly thought we were going deep into the ocean.

It's official. Rachel is afraid of heights. Her fear reared it's ugly head when we took her on the ferris wheel at California Adventure. She burrowed holes into my arms with her fingernails.

Lily was a bit discouraged that she missed the height requirement for all the big rides by only half an inch. But, true to form, she was content to ride pretty much everything else without complaint. I love that about her. Her complacency, that is.

Disneyland really is magical. Anything that can get my kids to be flexible under less than ideal circumstances has a power in itself. I even convinced a completely exhausted Anna that she didn't need Mickey Mouse ears to be happy. Truly a major feat. We'll go again. In about 4 to 5 years, maybe.

Need a job?

WANTED: Top executive for train-wreck bank about to be seized by federal regulators. Must be able to look busy while FDIC sells business from under you. Previous experience with angry shareholders sitting on worthless stock a plus. Perks: $7.5 million hiring bonus and $11.6 million cash severance.

Yep, the CEO for WaMu just walked away with $19 million for doing jack squat.