Baptism.

Eight is a hallmark year in our church. You've reached the age of accountability - when you have a good sense of right and wrong and are capable of choosing to be baptized and becoming an official member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Anna has been anticipating this day for months. There really was no question in her mind that she wanted to follow Christ's example and be baptized. She had the privilege of joining two friends from our neighborhood(and ward) who were getting baptized the same day. I think I maintain a pretty good handle of feeling the Spirit daily. But there's just nothing like a baptism to provide an outpouring of the Holy Ghost and remind us all of the importance of covenants and the blessings that attend them. I was so proud of Anna and grateful for this occasion and all the friends and family that supported her.

Great to be eight.

The actual day was rather uneventful - I worried that she might be disappointed. Still, we found ways to make her feel special - like letting her make her very own favorite dinner - grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Who wants to make their own birthday dinner? That would be my daughter.
We went shopping after school so she could pick out a few of her own presents - at least the boring ones like new church shoes and a couple of belts. Then, after dinner we sang and opened family presents while she failed to cooperate for a picture.

Friday we had a birthday party. I caved and scheduled one at a place in town where the kids could climb and party to their hearts content while I let someone else do most of the work. I finally understand why they charge so much freaking money for such engagements - we had the room to ourselves and we walked out of there within 10 minutes of the party ending- no mess! And all I had to do was prepare the cupcakes and party favors. Nevertheless, such parties will not be the norm at our house. I've already warned Lily and Rachel not to ask for something like that until they're eight.

It wouldn't be a party without a younger sister getting hurt... and an older sister who couldn't care less.

We had a couple of cousins from Utah join us including this chubby doll:

She even said thank you without provocation upon receipt of every.single.present. Phew! I thought I'd be saying, "What do you say?" to elicit a "thank you" for the rest of her life.

And then it was off to welcome guests at home. Lickety split.

And so, life goes on.

Life seems to keep plodding along. My kids are blissfully unaware of the turmoil I feel inside as I go about my daily business. And that is as it should be. Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming... right? So here are a couple of things we've done in the past week, in addition to the ultra-mundane (laundry, anyone?).
We have enjoyed the deep-fryer my brother-in-law gave us for Christmas. I rolled my eyes when it arrived as a package on our front doorstep - and Tim jumped for joy - knowing I would be forced to whip up some delectably disgusting deep-fried creations on his behalf. Its maiden voyage brought us french fries from scratch. Our most recent were these (before and after):


They were last Sunday's "breakfast for dinner", though we might have to switch the name to "dessert for dinner". Really.

In other news, the past two months we've been the gracious hosts to the following illnesses: strep throat, pink eye, the flu, gastroenteritis, the common cold (many times over) and, most recently, a freakish rash all over Rachel's body. The doctor assures us it's nothing to worry about, but still, I feel sorry for the child who's pretty much been in a constant state of illness for the months of February and March. Poor, sad thing. The weird thing about all of this is, we haven't been spreading any of this to each other (minus the colds). Does this mean we practice good hygiene/disease prevention at home and throw all caution to the wind in public?

Birthday parties have been the name of the game for a few weeks now. By the time we get through Anna's party this coming Friday, my two oldest girls will have attended 6 parties in a span of two weeks.

It's the middle of the night. That's all.

A tradition.

When I was younger (about 9), my mom invested many hours preparing a book for me, one that would provide a segway into the official "sex talk" (I have now officially blocked all of you with internet filters from reading this post). I cherished that book, and wanted to carry on the tradition to my own children, though in a slightly modified fashion. The book I made was more of a baptism book - one that would help her understand the covenants she will make when she is baptized next week and... provide a segway into the official "sex talk". Tim and I felt it was an appropriate time to open the dialogue so, after completing the book just a day before, we scheduled a special date with Anna last night, took her to dinner and dessert, and shared the book with her.
It went well. I'll just leave it at that.

Joy... and pain.

There's a universal pain scale used widely in doctor's offices and hospitals nationwide showing ten numbered faces depicting varying levels of pain, 1 being the lowest, 10 being the highest. A couple of years ago, I was sitting in a doctor's office with my 1 week old staring blankly at such a scale. On the top of this particular scale, it read, "No one should have to live with pain." I had just endured an unmedicated labor, my newborn was not successfully nursing, and through the course of trying to eat, had rendered her feeding mechanism cracked and bloody. Add to that the fact that I was healing from a tear in my nether regions, caring for three other children by day while surviving on about 3-4 hours of sleep a night. I was no stranger to pain at that moment, both physical and emotional.

I recall disagreeing with the motto that provided the heading for the pain scale. Even in the midst of my own suffering, I recognized the value in it (pain, that is) and wondered how we, as a people, could so easily succumb to the idea that pain relief is the ultimate goal. Now, I don't want to sound ungrateful, because I have never had to deal with chronic pain, and I am truly ecstatic that the Excedrin I popped an hour ago is easing the sting of my middle-of-the-night migraine. Believe me, I believe in pain relief. I'm just trying to make a statement on the role that pain plays in our lives. In fact, at times I agree with the memorable line in The Princess Bride, "Life is pain."

Right now, I am watching a scenario play out among loved ones that is causing heart-wrenching agony. I've spent the last few days playing it over in my head, wishing it were all a bad dream. And, though the situation could have been avoided, and the pain it has caused is the result of some very, very poor decisions, I am reminded that pain is part of the human experience. I believe that we signed up for it before coming to the earth. I'm pretty confident we had little concept of the magnitude of the sorrow that many of us would have to endure. But, I do know that we chose pain, knowing that doing so would guarantee us greater joy, a measure of that in this life, and an even greater portion of it in the next.

I know I sound like a real downer. It's hard not to when people you love are in the throes of their pain, when the bright spots are nonexistent. But I cling to the truth that, while pain is a necessary component of life, our Father's plan is a plan of happiness, and that happiness is magnified because of pain and suffering. Think Alma the Younger: "Yea, I say unto you, that there could be nothing so exquisite and so bitter as were my pains... that on the other hand, there can be nothing so exquisite and sweet as was my joy."

I found the following quote:
"Our culture has become as skillful in the art of neutralizing emotional and spiritual pain as in sedating physical pain. Medicine is, in a sense, symbolic of our age. Unquestionably, medicine is often a blessing; but as all must know by now, the drugs of our time, both the literal and the figurative kinds, also offer escape—not only from pain, but also from responsibility and reality. And thus some people have developed an instinctive inclination to chart their course, both short and long range, by choosing those alternatives that will minimize their exposure to the uncomfortable consequences of taking life as it comes. Avoiding or escaping discomfort becomes almost a guiding purpose of life, as if getting around such pitfalls were the essence of a happy life."

I repeat: I believe in pain relief, at some level. But I also believe in pain... because through every pain, we qualify to experience an equal and opposite measure of joy. The Savior himself suffered unimaginably. He also triumphed over sin and death. In my own life, I have felt both ends of the spectrum, though to a much smaller degree. And for that I'm grateful.

The Tempest.

I am so grateful to those who plan and organize events that give my children opportunities they could scarcely find elsewhere. Last week the PTO at Lily's elementary school put on two productions, one in which Lily got to participate. Once she got over the fact that she hadn't made the cut for the "big" play, she reveled in her moment of glory on stage. Her exact words were: "Mom, I got to be on a real stage!" She was an island spirit in a very shortened version of Shakespeare's The Tempest. We had fun cheering her on.

Ta-da! A year's supply.

After spending almost a full two years on my to-do list, I finally sat down and revamped the food storage situation in our household. I'd spent too many years just assuming, instead of calculating how long our stuff would actually last us. No more.

We now have 6-8 months of boring dry goods like rice, beans, sugar, wheat, flour, etc. In the event there is no actual "emergency", they will be sitting there for the next 25 years.



4 months of MRE's (we bought these a couple of years ago - pricey, but my bowels with thank me if I have more variety than wheat and wheat).



And 3 months of stuff we actually use. This is just the part in our storage room. And I realize that if I had those cool can rotating systems, my shelves would look much sweeter. But man, those things aren't cheap! I'll get there someday.



If you count the apple pie filling and peaches I canned last year, I'm guessing we might even have like 10 years worth of food. Just a hunch.

Oh so ordinary.

Up in the middle of the night aiding a coughing child. Early rising. A few chapters in Ether. Life cereal. A bit of nagging for kids to get ready on time. (Well, actually just Lily, as usual). Last minute preparations for Joy School. Puppet shows, singing, beanbag dancing, smoothie-making, story-telling, marble run building. Kindergarten pickup. A visit to the book fair. A six-year-old's wish granted (on her tab). Sandwiches and grapes. More beanbag dancing. Snuggling with the cougher. More storytelling. Back scratches. Quiet time. Ah. Unsuccessful appointment-making. Dinner preparations. In-home piano lesson. The Bookmobile. Chicken salad sandwiches. Bathtime. A bit of 1st Nephi with the family. Put the Shoulder to the Wheel. Heads bowed. Anne of Avonlea. Whatever the three younger children pick out as their bedtime story. Back scratches. Kisses. Good night! At least, one can hope.

And the token picture (courtesy of Lily, taken a couple of weeks ago).

If I had a million dollars.

Okay, so maybe it would only take several thousand. But it just so happens that there are a ton of other things that I'd rather do with a few thousand dollars(not to mention hours and hours of my time), so the house we've been living in for almost 6 years now is still not decorated. It's just not been a priority. But that doesn't preclude me from being bothered by the lack of color, or style, or class in my humble abode (and, when it comes to decor, I do mean humble, right down to the used TV we bought from my older brother before getting married 10 years ago and the $35 Wal-mart entertainment center that houses it). I don't consider myself a worldly person at all. But, just for kicks, let's just imagine that I am and make a list of just a few of the items I would purchase to dress up my place.

1. Matching chairs for my kitchen table (or better yet - an entirely new dining set!)

2. A decent-sized LCD screen (okay that's for Tim) and an entertainment armoire so we can forget it's there most of the time.

3. A desk other than the one we have. It belongs in a cubicle - I'll leave it at that.

4. Curtains for the master bedroom. We spent the first three years with a denim sheet draped over them and have been cursing the day we removed it so we could show our house. Ah, curtains... a must-have for summer's early sunrises.

5. A few classy pieces of wall art. A couple of religious paintings. Wall canvas prints of my adorable family.

6. Bar stools. And a hutch/desk for the kitchen area, though I'm undecided as to how to make that "work".

7. Bookshelves. Pretty ones. Sturdy ones. In almost every room. I heart bookshelves. And books too. But mostly bookshelves.

8. Built-in garage shelving. Considering my husband's inner pack rat tendencies, I've come a long way in accepting the reality that throwing out "treasured" momentos doesn't make for happy marriages. So a huge garage (we already have that) with an ample amount of storage solutions (don't have that) would result in a happier me.

9. A rug or two.

10. A seat for the front porch. Have I ever mentioned that we have this fabulous front porch and absolutely no seating? Well, it's true.

And that about rounds out the top ten.

Being the boring people we are, I have no doubt we'll likely pay off our mortgages and have fully-funded college savings accounts for our kids before we check off the above list. Those things just don't seem very important, you know? But a girl can dream, right? And yes, I realize that it's a little pathetic that matching chairs for the kitchen table are but a dream for me.

Matchy matchy.

I love the transition from mommy picking out the daily outfit to newfound independence at selecting one's own attire. It typically begins at about age four in our house - not because of some hard and fast rule - just a natural transition. One that occurs with a bit of trepidation on my part because, after three girls, I know that I will be sending my children out on more than one occasion mismatched, or clearly underdressed, or better yet, with that morning's chocolate milk on her shirt. Poor Anna was sent back to her room on more than one occasion for a second chance at finding something that was less than embarrassing to her mother. I've loosened up quite a bit, though. And I'm learning to let kids be kids and not evaluate every misstep or, in this case, mismatched outfit as a reflection of my poor parenting. Because, let's face it, if I did, I would be labeled an utter failure on every account. Since Rachel has embarked on this new adventure, I thought I would highlight a couple of her clothing selections.

I like to call this one "pink and pink":



Please appreciate the fact that it is still the middle of the winter here. And her pants have a hole in them. And they're polka-dotted. And her shirt is striped. And it may or may not have a stain on it.



Tim tried his hand at capturing the black tights she wore last weekend with the brown floral (summer) dress but alas, she's catching on and won't cooperate with our photo ops.

Within your means.

This topic could really put me on a soapbox. I'll keep it fairly short and to the point, though. In our state, the superintendent recently (in the past month or so) laid out a plan to overhaul the state education system. Resulting... in a huge backlash from teachers, students and parents alike. Let me first say that I am not terribly impressed by the proposal, and admit it has several(if not many) flaws. However, there's something I simply don't get about the dialogue that has ensued from this "scandalous" education overhaul. And why everyone seems hell bent on exposing its flaws without seriously addressing the main reason the bill has been initiated: to live within the state education budget allowance.

Yes, I'm irritated that some teachers who, in most cases, work tirelessly for very little monetary compensation are going to be eliminated. Yes, I think there are limits to the effectiveness of requiring online courses in place of those with an actual instructor. Yes, classroom size is a major concern for me and there's no doubt that increasing it over the next few years may have dire consequences. But, if we want to live within our means, we cannot have our cake and eat it too. Seems pretty cut and dry to me.

Abiding by a budget takes sacrifice, and while, admittedly, I'm completely open to the fact that there are probably a number of better ways to solve the problem, every single one is going to hurt. There aren't enough people in politics who are willing to create real solutions to the budget crises we face because they don't want to take the heat from a public who neither wants its taxes raised nor the kids' education compromised in any way. I admire our superintendent's willingness to do something hard, even if I may not agree wholeheartedly with his methods. I'll say it again, we can't have our cake and eat it too.