Room for 3

This week, we introduced Logan to the big tub. He's far outgrown his baby tub, but I have insisted on him remaining in there, as it's easier for me to keep and eye on him, and he hasn't been as steady at sitting up on his own as Max was at this age. But with feet sticking out the end, it was time to move on. So now we have 3 in the tub. The kids are completely enthralled with having their younger brother join them in the tub and he's pretty excited to get to sit up and play with toys and splash around. I imagine we will be back down to two in the tub eventually, when Lucy decides that bathing with her brothers is no longer fun...but it's nice to get them all in and out in one shot at this point.

Kid's turn

On saturday, while we were stuck in the house due to rain and colds, the kids found the camera and decided to take turns taking pictures. here is the photo montage of what they spent about an hour and a half working on:

There are about 50 or so of these shots...Logan in his exersaucer, with various facial expressions...none as cute as this one though.

I never get time for a nap...so I'm sure I'm just stretching my back...or hiding.


caught off guard!


ok, fine, you can take my picture!

This one is my favorite. Lucy's explanation:
"Mom, I took a picture of the wall, in case I'm ever inside my room and I get scared because I can't remember what the wall looks like outside my room, then I can just look at this picture."
Saves using your legs I guess.
The red tinge to all the pictures is because the kids always cover the flash with their chubby fingers, but never the red-eye, so we all have a nice, healthy, fake-and-bake glow.

Too much to ask?

I am at home right now. It is Sunday morning at 10am. My ward is starting at this moment. I should be at church, but I am at home. Tyler and I have been fighting colds all week, and basically my prayers have consisted of the usual, plus an extra plea that my kids would not catch what we've got. That Tyler and I would deal with it happily, just please, PLEASE let my kids stay healthy. Well, I'm at home. I'm at home because I was up ALL NIGHT with a sick baby. And I just don't get it. I mean, I know it was highly likely that he would get sick too. Almost guaranteed, since he spends so much time with me...and we share a room. How could it be avoided? I just hoped (and hoped that my hope translated to enough faith) that he wouldn't. But he has. And now I'm sitting here thinking to myself, what am I doing wrong? Where is my faith lacking? Maybe just in asking that question, the answer is there. Maybe I don't REALLY understand faith. I prayed and prayed all week that we would at least be well enough by Sunday that I could go to church and take the sacrament and be renewed...because I NEED it. But I am at home. I missed the baby shower this week that I wanted to go to. We missed the ward party on Friday night. I stayed home on those d ays in the hopes that the extra rest would mean that at least I would get to go to church on Sunday. Fortunately, my kids and my husband are there...and that's good. Should I have dragged a coughing, sniffling, cranky 6-month old to church anyway, and fought with him to get him to sleep somewhat in the crowds? And pace the hallways with him instead of being in class because he's too cranky, which equates to noisy, for me to be in there? Would that have proven my faith? Would that make a difference? And I know someone with more faith would probably say, Heather, it doesn't work that way. But I guess I'm just confused as to how it DOES work. I feel like I deal with a lot. And I take it on because I know I'm supposed to be learning something. I know that I don't always take it on with the best attitude. In fact, a lot of times I don't. This is a dark place and it's hard to see in the dark. But I was just kind of hoping that I could have some of these tiny miracles to help get me through. I was even incredibly patient all night as I sat and rocked my baby for hours, trying to help him breath and sleep. I felt bad for him. I truly did. Not just bad for myself that I had to deal with this, but actually bad for him that he was feeling this way. And yet, here I sit. Typing on my blog when I REALLY, REALLY want to be in sacrament meeting, feeding my soul. I hunger for it so badly. I hunger for a better place. I get frustrated when I pace the halls at church and I see people sitting out there who COULD be in class and just don't go. How I would love to be in their shoes. Of course, I try not to think that way, because I have no idea what's it's like to be in their shoes...and if anyone would say to me, I would LOVE to be in your shoes...I'd be hurt and frustrated that they think my life is so easy.
Anyway, I know my Heavenly Father loves me. I DO know that. I guess I'm just unsure of why, every once in a while, the blessings that I ask for aren't the ones I can receive. I know he blesses me abundantly, and I'm grateful, and should be MORE grateful. But is a tiny miracle like a healthy baby too much to ask? I don't mean this angrily or bitterly, I'm genuinely asking the question...is it too much to ask?

Forged

Last week we had the missionaries over for dinner and they shared a message with us on Service. "When you are in the service of your fellow beings, ye are only in the service of your God." We talked about this for a bit, and the comment was made that, although we don't understand how it is possible, as we serve others we grow to love them more. It was followed up by saying, if you don't love someone, or even like them, it's probably because you don't REALLY know them. I followed this comment up with one of my own. It seems to me as I serve my children, this always happens. True, I get tired, and frustrated, but the more time I spend doing things FOR them, the more I love them. I also commented that the Savior, of course, gave the ultimate service to us and therefore his love for us is ultimate. But his service was not just in that one moment on the cross, or in Gethsemane. He has been serving us for eternity. That's why he loves us...and knows us so well. I've been able to think on this concept all week. And last night I had a glimpse. A slice of heavenly wisdom. A small slice, but I enjoyed every bit.
As I was typing my last post about Logan, I was able to think back a bit on how I struggled when my Max was a baby. How things seemed eternally hard, but I just kept pressing forward, hoping it would be better one day. I cried and groaned and growled and prayed over this baby. Not that he was especially difficult. In fact, I imagine he was quite normal, but my experience with an angel baby previous to him had left me with the wrong impression of babies. And adding PPD to that, just made things multiply. I would cry out in frustration and feel anxiety and animosity and fear toward my baby. How could I love something that came out of me SO little? I just prayed that the joy would come...someday.
Well, I am happy (actually, that's not a strong enough word. I am elated...joyful...blissful) to report that it did. I have struggled through everything with Max. I have struggled to have him eat, sleep, play, share, not fight, not growl, not bite, not scratch, not push...etc, etc, etc. I have struggled to put away my selfish desires of who I thought he should be, and accept him for who he is. And it turns out, he's pretty great. And through all of that, I have grown to know him better than I think I know any other person in existence. There is no other person on this earth that I have invested SO MUCH of myself into...or that I have taken the time (mostly because it was demanded of me) to figure it out. Or that I have prayed SO earnestly about on a constant basis just so I could survive. And I love him. One day, the frustration of the day to day turned into a sense of normal and then all of a sudden the frustration turned into...peace. And I look at my little bug and I think to myself that there is nothing he does that surprises me anymore. I still get disappointed. I still get frustrated. Sometimes I still pull my hair out. I still have moments when I am tired and don't handle things very well (because I'm human), but I love that boy more than anything I could describe. And I attribute that completely to how much I have invested in our relationship. As I serve him, I grow to love him. And I have also grown to KNOW him, which makes it really easy to love him. I know where he's coming from. I understand what motivates him, what drives him, what bugs him, and who he really is. I am grateful that my Savior gave me this experience. When Lucy was born, I thought to myself, "I have so much to teach you." and as each of my boys were born, I had a very distinct impression that they were here to teach me. I know Max is only 3 years old, but I feel like we've already been through the refiners fire. We've been forged together. I'm a bit concerned that this incredible love I feel for him will come to a test at some later date, but it is what it is.
Now, my biggest hope? That I will feel the same way about Logan some day too.

Logan

I haven't posted much about my littlest man recently. It's hard to think about him and not feel a whole gauntlet of emotions, so I mostly don't try. I remember feeling this way with Max when he was a baby. When Lucy was a baby, I began writing in a journal all about her and what she was doing and getting into, because I wanted to keep track. I promised to do it with each of my kids. I started with Max, but then found myself so full of negativity, that I didn't want to record it. I kept hoping things would get better and I didn't want to remember the bad stuff. It's been much the same with Logan. When I look back at photos I have of Max as a baby, I can conjure up happy feelings and thoughts and memories that seem tucked away somehow. Most of it is a blur until I actually can put a photo in front of my face and I go, oh yeah, I DO remember that. I'm hopeful that the same will come with Logan as well. But, in case my memory just keeps getting worse and worse, I thought I'd write a bit. He is a worm. He squirms constantly. There is nothing about my boys that equates to sitting still. Even when they are doing quiet activities, like playing blocks or if Max is looking at a book or coloring, there is some sort of movement involved. "Sit Still!" is a phrase I use a lot. Logan likes to accompany his need to move with his need to make a lot of noise. Grunting, groaning, moaning, screeching, laughing, and most recently, a lot of 'ma, ma, ma, ma,' or 'blah, blah, blah'...and the occasional 'da, da, da!' always at high volume. My mom has always told me that I was a very loud baby. I guess Logan is my equivalent. I also had a sensitive digestive system, as does Logan, and it took me forever to sleep through the night...most because of my digestive system. It appears to be the same with Logan. So it's incredibly frustrating and feels a bit like fate. Most of the time when I do get frustrated with my kids it is because they are displaying some sort of emotion or behaviour that reminds me so much of either Tyler or myself. I guess it's sweet justice, or a tender mercy on our parent's behalf.
Logan is almost 7 months old now. He is eating solid foods and just this week seems to finally be enjoying it. He's gotten really good at sitting up on his own, and only falls every once in a while. He likes to play with toys and has figured out how to schooch himself in a circle while he's sitting. He loves it. I'm sure crawling will not be too far off.
Spitting-up is still something we deal with constantly. Bibs and burp cloths are a must. But he makes up for everything with his bright eyes and happy smile. It's his saving grace most times.
One of the best things is seeing how excited his brother and sister get to see him. They are constantly asking questions about when they were babies.
It's pretty great...we live moment by moment.

Again

So I'm without my husband again. He's off to the Bishop's Youth Retreat for the night. And strangely, I'm not as nervous or anxiety ridden as I was last weekend. Maybe that's because last weekend is so fresh in my mind, and I know I was able to (somewhat) handle that; or maybe because it's only a few hours tonight and a few hours tomorrow morning, and he'll be back; or maybe, just maybe I'm growing. Doubt it. The kids and I have an awesome evening of pilsbury mini-pizzas, a movie, icecream and chocolate planned. They're both really tired from getting up early today for school, so I imagine they'll be asleep by 8pm. Then Logan and I will chill for a bit till he goes to bed and I get to enjoy my chick-flick again. This weekend, "My Life in Ruins" with the same girl from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Not a blockbuster, for sure. Probably not even that great, but it'll do for my chick-flick fix.
Plus, I'm pretty excited for the "Back-To-School" dinner I have planned for Lucy for tomorrow evening. So I'm focusing a lot of my extra time and energy on that. I'm a bit of a Food-Network junkie, and I have great ambitions to one day be a fantastic cook. It's a slow process, but I'm working on it. Tomorrow we'll be having some of Lucy's favorites: BBQ pulled pork, buns, baked potatoes, beans, broccoli. Maybe this should be the "What begins with B" meal. I just realized that.

Tender Mercies

Today is Lucy's first day of Kindergarten. It seems so surreal to be here. This little tiny girl that has been at my side for 5 1/2 years is now venturing off to real school. And she's crazy excited about it too. Her teacher came for a home visit on Wednesday and had Lucy draw a picture for her scrapbook. Lucy shared some of her reading with the teacher too, but she was a little nervous at first. We kept suggesting different books she could read, and she wasn't comfortable with any of them. And then I thought to myself, the book she reads the most is the Book of Mormon. So I asked her if she wanted to read some scriptures. She jumped at that chance and proceeded to read her teacher a verse from 2nd Nephi. The teacher was pretty impressed.
This morning was a bit rough, just because she was so tired. Our family is not used to getting up this early. We'll get used to it pretty fast, but it was hard this morning. It's also hard to convince other people in the world that our kids need to go to bed earlier than what everyone is used to. They can't be staying up past 9pm any more. While the teacher was here visiting us, she told us that her next home visit was to a little girl named Ava at the end of the road. Lucy and I got so excited to hear that, as this was Lucy's best friend from pre-school. Her and her dad stopped by yesterday afternoon and invited Lucy for some play time, which Max was sad to not be included in, but Lucy was thrilled about.
This morning, we picked Ava and her Dad up for the trip to school. All I can say is thank goodness for tender mercies. The fact that Lucy already has a friend at school has definitely been a blessing. Her nerves began to get the better of her a bit this morning, and her eyes were glossy with tears, but none of them spilled onto her cheeks. I reminded her that it was a short day and she was lucky to already have a friend. Lucy and Ava stuck close together and it made the goodbyes a lot easier. On me too. Now Max and I need to come up with things to do while Lucy's at school. We attempted to play Battleship and Headbanz yesterday while she was gone, and it wasn't so successful, so we stuck to reading stories. Today, we're playing Go Fish, and it's going a lot better. He's having a hard time not having his sister "right beside him" as he says.
We had fun telling Knock Knock jokes yesterday though. This is Max's favorite:
Knock-Knock
Who's There?
Banana
Banana who?
Banana, aren't you glad I didn't say apple?

It cracks me up