What's goin' on.

We've been busy. My parents and brother Will spent Christmas here - played games, watched movies, went sledding, ate way too much food - you know, what vacation is all about. It was sweet to have extra family around - and remarkably unstressful. Perhaps it was the fact that the three extra adults who actually ate what I had prepared for dinner (and enjoyed it) tipped the numbers so that dinner was actually a positive experience instead of a seemingly wasted effort. Or it might have been that my mom assumed floor-sweeping duty the entire time they were here. Whatever the reason, I really enjoyed having them around.
Post-Christmas activities: I waited until Monday to take down Christmas (Tim thinks it's a record - I can be somewhat neurotic when it comes to "getting back to normal"). Doctor's visit - I'm dilated to a two at 37 weeks ... we'll see how long I last. After a week of snow, we've watched it all melt away - except, that is for the enormous pile of snow we shoveled and then converted to a snow tunnel. The kids are still partying on. Took advantage of the after-Christmas sales to stock up on next year's clothes. Scored big time at Gymboree. Finally packed the hospital bag. Been making double portions of dinner every night for a week and storing half as a freezer meal for the postpartum madness that will inevitably ensue. Trying to convince Anna that "quiet time" (aka. mommy's rest time) is as fun as school. Not working so well - though she does enjoy curling up with a few good books and reveling in long back scratches.
Enough talking, here's a few pictures.

Perspective.

Are you one of those "grass is always greener" folks? Sometimes I am. When I was growing up, my younger brother, who had muscular dystrophy and was significantly handicapped was a constant reminder of my blessings. Though I'm sure I was very much a typical self-absorbed teenager most of the time, the concepts of reaching out to others and service never really evaded me because I lived with someone who brought me a great deal of perspective, teaching me that happiness is not dependent upon what we have or the ease of our lives but who we are and what we choose.
I have long since moved out of the house, and my brother passed away almost 10 years ago. But every once in a while, the Lord still blesses me with small glimpses of suffering, of neighbors whose trials far eclipse my own. I know of one such friend, who performed an act of service on my behalf just this week. It came at a much greater sacrifice to her than the same act would have come to me. It touched my heart.
I've struggled this season to give my children that perspective, to help them see that their lives are rich and abundant, that for some crazy reason, the Lord has seen fit to bless us far beyond what our actions warrant. Unfortunately, I haven't done so well. For at least one of my children, everything is always about her. I'll keep trying. But in the meantime, I can pray that the Spirit touches her heart as it did mine this week.

The knack.

Have you ever seen the Dilbert cartoon The Knack ? Everyone has a knack for something, right? My engineer husband, who most certainly has "the knack" can't spell worth beans. I'm always dumbfounded when I read a "professional" email he is sending out by the number of words that pop up as he runs a spell check on it. I've never used spell check in my entire life (though I probably should, since, even we natural spellers are guilty of typos). When it comes to spelling, you either have it or you don't.

The same thing goes for languages. I've sat through many a language course in college or at the MTC and watched others (bless their hearts) painfully struggle to grasp what always came too easily to me. My thought was always along the lines of : can they not hear? How much repetition is required for them to "get it"? Of course, I coupled this with feeling sorry for them, knowing that it certainly wasn't a lack of effort that contributed to their toil and strife.

Recently I've discovered something I definitely do not have a knack for. This is not to say that I'm good at everything I do, only that I've finally found a skill I actually desire that completely evades me.

I can't bake bread. Try my cinnamon rolls, they're quite delectable. Dinner rolls? I figured that one out a few years ago (though I still experience an occasional "bomb"). There's just something about baking a loaf of bread that makes me look like a complete idiot. It turns out doughy in the middle, it fails to rise enough, it lacks elasticity, the texture declines rapidly... you name it, I've experienced it. My mother and a friend of mine even introduced me to two delicious recipes that I have attempted on dozens of occasions and never gotten quite right. What is wrong with me? Is it really that fine a science? Or is having "the knack" the only recipe for success?

I'll keep bumbling along, like a retard, but at some point my attempts at being healthy and domestic may be foiled by my aversion to failure. For now, anyone got any bread-making suggestions?

Winter in full force.

I love the snow. Our neighborhood has been blessed with a few inches in the last week or so. A couple of days ago we bundled up to bask in the 18 degree weather that awaited us outside. The kids "skated" on the ice in the streets, sledded down a 4 foot hill in the common area behind our house, and Rachel even decided that riding her bike was a viable option. Thankfully, everyone on our side of the street shovels the sidewalk.

Advil, I miss you.

I ran out of Tylenol the other night while nursing a migraine. Trouble is, investing in another bottle seems useless, since I only have a month left in my pregnancy, which is the only time Tylenol is of any use to me. Isn't it unfortunate that during one of the times in life when discomfort becomes one's middle name, there is very little that modern medicine can offer to alleviate your pain? Pretty much everything is off limits. Including my best friend Advil, whom I will welcome with open arms back into my life shortly after delivery.

Dear Santa.

Will you please put coal in my kids' stockings this year? Yep, that's pretty much all I want. Pretty please?
Love,
Me

Sometimes I view the chaos that is my life and still manage to feel competent somehow. It's a dangerous sort of pride - because inevitably the next day will fall into the "please make it stop" category. I guess we all need those days to keep us learning... and humble. Oh so humble.

Thank you Costco.com

For the last seven years, since getting married, I've had a sewing machine at the top of my wish list. For birthdays and other gift-giving occasions, I shoot off a copy of the list to those who are interested so that they don't have to play any guessing games about the "perfect gift". Problem is, everyone to whom I've sent the list knows that I don't sew. Not at all. Never really had any talent (or interest, for that matter) in that area. So I'm sure that it comes as no surprise that while other items have gradually been crossed off the list and replaced by other wants, the sewing machine remains untouched. I can almost envision my siblings, parents, and in-laws chuckling to themselves before overlooking my number one want in favor of something else that they know I will actually appreciate.

Laugh all you want, guys. There's a reason the sewing machine is at the top of the list. I really, really want one. And fortunately, someone actually got the message this year. Although Tim and I had decided that we would limit this year's Christmas presents to needs rather than wants (really, though, how does one distinguish between the two nowadays?), he decided to "surprise" me with my heart's desire.

Sadly, the surprise was spoiled a few days after he ordered it, when it showed up in an undisguised box on our doorstep. What were you thinking, Costco.com? Last I checked, December 10th is well within the holiday season. Perhaps Tim should have consulted Santa on my behalf, instead. Surprise spoiled or not, I'm one happy camper. Now, if only I had some thread...

Reading, writing, and 'rithmetic.

Turns out I only have time for one hobby in my life. And it ain't arithmetic. So if you're ever wondering why there's a lapse in my blogging, you can be confident that I'm reading (or in my first trimester of pregnancy, another hobby of mine). This week it was Breaking Dawn by Stephenie Meyer. Was it worth it? Probably not. But at least I've already topped my pathetic average of 1-2 books a month. I'm already at two. And that does not include The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, which I'm reading with the girls.

Nicotine and tobonco.

The other day Lily began a conversation by saying, "Mom, some medicines are bad because your body starts to want them all the time but they're not good for it." A bit random, but since we'd had a conversation within the last few months about why her uncle Mike died before she was born (of a drug overdose), I was impressed that she remembered my explanation of the danger of drugs.
She continued, "That's why nicotine is so bad. Your body really really wants it, even though it's bad for it."
I replied, "True. Um, where did you learn about nicotine, Lily?" I thought maybe one of the Joy School teachers was altering the curriculum in some weirdo fashion.
Anna piped up. "I learned about it from the school counselor. Nicotine is in tobonco. And tobonco is in beer."
I stifled a laugh, "Actually, tobacco is in cigarettes."
The conversation continued, and so did the use of the word "tobonco", despite my correction. Kids are so darn cute.

Checking it twice.

Deck the halls and tree. Check.
Bake and deliver Christmas cookies. Check.
Buy Christmas presents. Check.
Schedule rest home visit for Joy School. Check. Can't wait to see the little munchkins pull it off. Seriously the highlight of my Christmas season.
Okay, so at least it's a start. Every holiday season promises to be busy, but I got the labor-intensive items out of the way early, for obvious reasons. Hopefully that will leave ample time for craft-making with the kids, snuggling by the fire, eating treats, and listening to my favorite holiday tunes. We shall see.

Best part of decorating the Christmas tree with youngsters? You get a whole lot of this. Five ornaments on the same branch? We only have about twenty total.

Those of you who have complained about my not posting pictures of my pregnant self... here you go. Anti-climactic, isn't it?

Happy Holidays!

Black monday.

We all arrived home last night from a 5 day trip to visit my family for Thanksgiving. Which turns today into a jumbled mess of laundry, grocery shopping, unpacking, breaking out the Christmas decorations, and basically recovering from our "vacation". We got off to a rough start. Half of our lights for the Christmas tree are burned out. Lily succeeded in breaking one of our snowglobes while fighting with Rachel over it. On our trip to Costco today, I pretty much ran over someone while disciplining Lily. The poor lady was not happy. I was awfully embarrassed and sorry. Maybe next time I'll actually park the shopping cart before exacting punishment. By the end of our shopping trip, all three girls were champs, begging to help me load groceries onto the conveyor belt, staying close by my side without threats, and showing the utmost kindness to each other as they shared lunch in the car on the way home. I love motherhood.
Thanks to my family for feeding us and providing us with hours of good company and entertainment for the few days we camped out at their house. We spent most of our time at home, though we managed to take the kids on their first light-rail trip to downtown Salt Lake for the lights on Temple Square, free hot cocoa, and a visit to the Conference Center. Anna was pretty stoked to be standing where the prophet and apostles speak to us semi-annually. Tim and I also swapped babysitting duty to visit with some friends. And brought back a few extra pounds, of course.

Anna , Rachel and me, Grandpa and Lily, on Trax (in that order).

Lily and Rachel with my brother's baby Jane.

Third trimester.

At the risk of sounding like I'm bragging, I wish to express gratitude for a few things that have been on my mind lately, it being post-Thanksgiving and all. Lately, when people have asked me how I'm feeling (perhaps the most commonly-asked question of pregnant women) I have no reason to respond other than by saying "I feel good." Great, even. Sure, it's all relative. I waddle a bit when I walk. I have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Fatigue is a familiar companion. I'm emotional and lose my temper with my family more often than I'd like. I've experienced a bit of heartburn.
But I only waddle a little. And I only have to go to the bathroom once a night. I'm not any more tired than I will be when this baby comes. My emotions are elevated but not out of control. Usually. And, as I said, I've only had a bit of heartburn. Granted, this pregnancy has been, in many ways, easier than others I've experienced. But even the worst of my pregnancies was a gift - one that I thank the Lord for daily. I have enjoyed healthy pregnancies, uncomplicated labors, and beautiful babies. Any discomfort pales in comparison to the enormous blessing it is to be able to bear and raise children. I do not take it for granted.