Princess M who is now Three

Perhaps the most dramatic of changes between last year and this is that the candles didn't move you to hysterical tears. You were still quite timid and we actually had to re-light them a few times to overcome certain brothers' overeager desires to "help" you blow. But at any rate you are now three. You are so easy to please with this birthday. If it is pink or a princess or girly in any way, you love it. Perhaps the best part of the day today was that you got to spend some rarified quality time with just you and dad at the Build-A-Bear store where you got "Fluffy" and her "house" (the cardboard box Fluffy came in).

You have so much to say and so many subjects on which you willingly hold court. And dear Sissy is the answer to almost any problem. It's a good thing Sissy still remembers how long she waited for you to get here because you are three and you do love to eat her "gums" (and anyone else's), to liberally apply her "lip-its" and do all those pesky things that little sisters do to annoy their bigger idolized sisters in the name of hero worship.

You danced your way into our lives and hearts three years ago and you've been dancing ever since--with a beat and sass that no one else in the family can equal. What fun three will be for you and those of us who tag along!

A New Feeling

I woke up this morning completely rested, at 5:45am. I'm still feeling great, with no crashing or hoping for a nap. I hardly know what to do with myself, since I can't remember feeling this way, not even once, since early morning seminary started the fall of 1984. I've long become used to the negotiations done on my early morning knees, the planning when I can get a catnap, the pointing in my mental calendar to when I might possibly be able to sleep in (possibly being the key, since nothing ever really happens as planned). But since the summer of neuro adventures where my trusty neurologist and I try to figure out my headaches and make them not be strokes or migraines too often, the exhaustion has been a non-stop wall of sludge I wade through each day, where no amount of sleep is ever enough and no matter how early I go to bed and how many naps I squeeze in, I am still just dying of exhaustion and praying to make it at least until the kids fall asleep.

And so it comes as no surprise that my prayer this fast Sunday was for answers, a way to make it better. My desk (and by "desk" I mean the large Costco size folding table in my room where I gather craft and scrapbooking projects to gather dust, papers to file and bills to pay and projects that need doing) is awash in each new week's attempt at simplifying, scheduling, searching and I have come up empty so many times. But I really must finally have reached this phase of "after all you can do", or maybe I was finally just ready to listen. Because, as I sat in church, I thought about nutritional deficiencies and timing of nightly meds and when (if) I eat breakfast and on and on and on. And because I am the queen of biting off more than I can chew, I tried 3 new things this week: move my nightly meds up by one hour, eat breakfast before I am allowed to touch the computer, and take a multivitamin with 100% RDA of iron.

These are not big things. I have not been blessed with the opportunity to sleep for a month in the last 48 hours to compress in at least some of the sleep deprivation I have experienced over the last 26 years. But I feel different. I feel better. I feel like these are changes I can maintain and use as stepping stones to the next level.

Elder D. Todd Christofferson spoke in General Conference last month in a talk titled "Reflections on a Consecrated Life." Many of the things in that talk resonated with me, but the idea that to consecrate my life I need to respect my body, whispered to me that my notions of self-care were not very nurturing and things needed to change. These are small answers, but they are huge because I know I cannot do what is needful when I am exhausted, when I can't see straight, when my weeks are filled with the disturbed vision and speech of "complicated" migraines. From this vantage point, not being tired is nothing short of amazing. A tender mercy.

It's Nice to be Five

That is what Bam said to me this morning when he snuggled into bed just after DH and Z left for the early morning football game. He has looked forward to this day for a long time--an eternity for a boy who was not quite five and desperately wanted to be.

Me and the Scoobster went the rounds:


I even looked into purchasing one of those Wilton form pans, but they discontinued Scooby.

Bam was happy and it still tasted good.

*NOT actual dog treats, they are Keebler Scooby graham crackers.

Last year for preschool, Bam could never quite get the concept of "carpool" and dreaded all the times I didn't personally drive him. He loved school and his teacher and classmates, but truly was even happier on the days he could just stay home. Now that he's five, he's got the carpool thing down (thank goodness) and he loves school and playing with friends, but he still runs in the door with a smile--happy to be home again. He is my cozy boy and I dread the minute he is too old and too cool to cuddle with me. We have until fall before kindergarten, thanks to a late birthday. Bam has a young soul and would not have been ready to go this year anyway. Until a few weeks ago he barely even expressed interest in it. Recently, however, he began talking about "when I go to kindergarten when I'm five" and we've had to clarify that he needs to be five AND it needs to be September (more or less) before he can go. We will see in the coming months if that explanation is enough or if he becomes wistful about kindergarten from now until next September.

Until then, we will try and be content with Scooby, assorted superheroes and ignore the occasional disappointment that mom will NOT buy a great dane. It IS nice to be five!

Success in October

Success in the last month has been defined in a variety of ways.

Success is surviving the PTA Family Fun Festival with only one angry call to police for disturbing the peace (we weren't), only one folding table lost, only running out of chips for the nachos and only requiring two days for my legs to stop throbbing for being on them for many many hours. And it didn't rain (it threatened).

Success is returning M to this--post meltdown:



after she didn't get a ride in this (it broke down after Bam's ride):



at the parking lot pumpkin patch.

Success is gathering this motley crew:

(she's a vampire girl and she struggled with her wig all night)
(he's Harry Potter wearing CW's glasses)
(his "muscles" kept denting in throughout the night)
(he got sweaty, since he was inside padded fleece)
(she is M, need I say more?)

to attend out ward trunk or treat, especially when Z said no to Halloween at the last minute (he conceded to the outfit for picture taking purposes only). My sister Tiff was in town and was a vampire slayer. She helped with the kidlet wrangling. But I didn't get a picture of her. Success at the event was measured by our stellar guesstimation of treat purchases. We ended up with only a gallon sized ziploc bag of treats after the Halloween weekend. This was, in part, because we didn't trick or treat Sunday night, but then usually we take the gatherings from the trunk or treat and hand them out to the revelers who knock our door and we didn't have that option either. But, since we have an exceedingly large Primary (135 active children), many many of whom brought friends, we were able to hand out all of M's candy and much of Bam's before the evening ended. The net candy received was perfect because no one felt robbed of sugar, but there was little gorging or sugar comas and an extra plus was that no one handed out the dreaded fun dip!

Success is buying a new box of 64 crayons (because I donated our mangy bags of imperfect crayons to the coloring table at the festival) and finding the two that M lost before they were used in any new murals.

Success is openly denying Z the ball python he "MUST have" as a pet (when he asked for a snake, his original concession was "I'll pick a non-venomous one!") AND denying Bam a real live Scooby Doo dog (a great dane) in the same day (Bam is as terrified of real dogs as I am of snakes) and not causing a complete offspring mutiny.

Success is also making it to the end of October, when I promised CE and Z they could quit swim (it's getting cold and coaches are getting mean and teammates are lane hogs . . .) without killing anyone during the daily onslaught of whining and recrimination until October finally ended. I'm thinking that all those negative campaign slogans were written by an angry 11 yr old. And now, for our exercise and skill development, two moms and I have formed a running club. The other two moms take the kids (half a dozen or so right now, but strangely more have expressed interest) for a 2 mile run after school on different days and I make them run hill repeats, sprints and intervals. Z continues with flag football and CE is learning tennis. That gives them about as much exercise as swim was giving them without the fees, the whining, or the carpooling.

And that brings us to November, a month which started with two staff development days, to be followed by a two day Veteran's Day holiday next week, one full week of school and then Thanksgiving weekend the following week and we will be well on our way to Christmas. And I am not ready, not ready not ready.

What was your definition of success in October?