Tag Archives: Crazy Family Life

Back In Action

Meet Betty the Bomber.  We sold our broken down van and bought this in April.  We packed her full of everything we could–clothes, essential toys and books, our photo albums and other memorabilia–and sold the rest.

This is how the past two months have looked.

Travelling

Six weeks visiting family (and being homeless–literally without at home AND internet, but family graciously provided both).

Thirty-two hours of driving on the road.

Seven different states.

An 11:30 pm arrival to our new, but empty, home.

Over 1500 miles and we all arrived in one piece, well…except for the microwave and Ben’s fishing pole.  Everything/one else? A little battered but happy.

Moving In

Four days and 10 stores yielded great results:

Cupboards full of dishes, pots and pans, and food.

Fridge full of goodies.

Drawers packed with utensils.

Living room decorated with a coffee table, sofa, couch, chair, and TV.

Dining room fitted with dining table and chairs (and plastic to cover the carpet from toddler messes).

Settling In

Favorite meals served once again (including the cherished hot dog spaghetti–with the hot dogs burnt).

Suitcases full of dirty laundry unpacked, washed, folded, and put away.

Toys and books stored in a convenient location.

Internet and cable hooked up.

Yes, we are [in our new] home! Furniture, dishes, and all!  

As I’ve had limited time to access the internet, I feel a bit lost.  Tell me, what have all you been doing? Feel free to link to some of your favorite posts, I would love to read them! I’ve missed all of you dearly.

13 Comments

Filed under Moving

Nightime is My Time

During the day, as my house gets messier and messier, I remind myself that I will have all night to clean.  Bedtime is at 7, afterall.

Every spilled cup, dropped toy, thrown food, and emptied out bookshelf will be tidied once that glorious hour comes.

Don’t worry, I tell myself as I look at the torn apart living room, once the kids are in bed you’ll clean it in a jiffy.

The only problem is, I also save other things for after bedtime: Blogging, eating, resting, and reading.  A few hours really doesn’t give me enough time to adequately do all these things.

But, day after day, I keep to the same schedule. Putting myself in the same silly situation–being completely exhausted by the end of the day and having absolutely no desire to complete any of my tasks, only wanting to eat and lay down.

Now that I have simplified my life, I don’t feel the need to put off the cleaning tasks until the kids are in bed.  It’s just a matter of doing it.

9 Comments

Filed under lessons from a rocking chair

Sleep and Laughter CAN Go Hand in Hand

This morning,  Andrew woke up screaming.  Given that he refused to go to bed the previous evening because of sickness,  this event did not surprise me.   It did, however, rattle my husband.

As he climbed out of bed, he yelled, “SSSHHHH!!!”

To which I responded, “Um, that won’t help.”

After looking at me sheepishly he said, “Sorry, I was dreaming that one of the boys I work with was screaming at me.” (Not too far from the truth.)

This dream state of my husband often results in hilarious nighttime outings and ramblings.

Like when I wake up to find cheese in the cupboard.  Or a half eaten peanut butter sandwich in the fridge.  And wrappers of my coveted chocolate scattered on the floor.

But nothing beats waking up to him whistling our alma mater’s fight song; alternating between humming a tune and laughing hysterically; and jumping out of bed, grabbing a folded towel from the dresser, and brandishing it like a sword.  All while innocently dreaming.

It isn’t unusual for me to wake up and find him in the living room with the TV on and the internet up.

I’ve mentioned the need for me to sleep train my husband before,  but I think I need to get more serious.  After I stop chuckling.

17 Comments

Filed under Awesomeness

A Word About Holidays

Ben and I are horrible about celebrating holidays.  We would completely forget about them if it weren’t for commercials and blogs.

True that.

It isn’t that we don’t appreciate the reasons behind them–although I still don’t understand the purpose behind Halloween–it’s that we are busy.  Also,  we are very limited financially.

I’m not complaining about our situation, because I feel we are truly blessed, I am only explaining.  We live in a cozy apartment,  eat delicious foods,  have reliable transportation,  have insurance,  have jobs.  There is no reason to complain.

However, when it comes to the holidays there is a certain amount of pressure.  Buy this,  buy that,  decorate!  For a person who still hasn’t placed photographs around the apartment we have lived in for over a year,  it’s a bit overwhelming.  Compare, compare, compare.  I feel myself giving excuses to people and myself.

At least I used to.

Now, I realize that this is how Ben and I are.  We work hard to keep our kids healthy and happy while seeing after their spiritual, mental, and physical needs.  We don’t really think about the extra things–like gifts or decorations on holidays–because the struggle is intense.

At the same time,  our home is our haven.  Sure,  we rarely have holiday decorations on the walls or doors,  but we do have each other.  And the love is palpable.

It’s in the clean laundry piled on the couch.

The dishes in the sink.

The toys strewn across the floor.

The boxes of diapers and wipes stacked behind the television.

The well worn couches.

Our lives may be a bit messy and we might be forgetful about traditional holiday things,  but we sure as heck love each other.

I don’t know when our lives will be less messy.  We will soon enter a new chapter of our lives: Medical school.  It will be hard.  So very hard. We are lucky,  though,  because we have each other.

Maybe once we are settled we will celebrate holidays differently.  For now,  we try to celebrate them daily,  (at least the religious ones) and remember the most important thing: Family.

28 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

In Other News…

Good News

I’m pregnant.

Bad News

I have to tell my husband.

Since we have no idea what causes this, I can only imagine how the conversation will go.

Fake Conversation but Accurate Representation of Us Communicating

Scene: Ben is sitting at the computer when I walk into the room.

Me:  Babe, I’m pregnant.

Ben:  What?  How did this happen?

Me:  I don’t know!  You tell me, you’re supposed to be the doctor!

Ben:  …..

Me:  (Raises eyebrows.)

Ben: (Turns back to the computer.)

Me:  Anyway.  I think I remember my parents talking about birds befriending bees…

Ben:  Wait, you bought a bird!

Me:  Um, what? Are you even listening to me?

Ben:  Yeah, you said you’re pregnant and…

Me:  Obviously this conversation is going nowhere if you don’t get off of the computer and pay attention to me.

Ben:   I’m sorry.  (Shuts laptop.) What were you saying?

Me:  Right.  My parents said something about birds befriending bees and that leading to…

Ben:  I don’t think birds can befriend bees.  That’s scientifically inaccurate.

Me:  Well, how do you think this happened?

Ben:  (Sighs.)  I don’t know but we’d better figure it out real quick.

Me:  You’re telling me.

I guess the truth will come out eventually,  like when I start puking.  Maybe I’ll just wait until he figures it out himself.  That always works.

Now how will I tell the extended family?

29 Comments

Filed under Awesomeness

To My Eldest:

When you emerged into this world,  your curiosity was unquenchable.   That first night, you stayed up with your dad,  learning about your new world.  Your bright eyes–big even then–stared at everything with wonder and amazement.  With your first breath, you stole my heart.

That curiosity has remained part of your personality.  You learned to sit up, crawl, and walk around on furniture early because it enabled you to explore further and deeper.  Though your adventurous spirit often led to calls to the Poison Control or the doctor,  I was ecstatic to have such an interested student of life.

This day marks your second year in this world.  Thinking about that makes me gasp with how remarkably fast everything went.  I am not sad to see you grow up because I thoroughly enjoyed your infancy.   Your ready smile and brilliant, blue eyes kept me joyful and captivated.  You taught–continue to teach–me how to be a mother.   Even when your brother came so soon after your own year birthday, you remained the happy little girl you have always been.

As you are learning to communicate better,  I am discovering another component of your personality: compassion.  When I am frustrated or in pain, you immediately recognize that something is wrong and quickly quip, “Are you okay?” while pausing in whatever endeavor you were pursuing.  This question always gives me chills, even when I respond, honestly, “No, I’m not.”  This coupled with watching you interact with your younger brother has given me brief glimpses of the woman you will become one day.  I hope that you cherish that bond between your brother and yourself.

Dearest Emily, you have been patient with me during my evolution these past two years.  I am constantly grateful for your everlasting love.  You and your brother are my greatest treasures.

Love,

Your Mother

I emerged for a few days only to leave again.  Fear not,  I will be back very soon!  Have a wonderful (early) weekend!

22 Comments

Filed under Letters

Dear Dad,

Yesterday, while walking through the grocery store, I heard our song.  The song you sang at my wedding reception.

The unbidden tears clouded my eyes as I remembered your voice, so full of emotion, singing the words–

But I loved her first and I held her first
And a place in my heart will always be hers
From the first breath she breathed
When she first smiled at me
I knew the love of a father runs deep
And I prayed that she’d find you someday
But it still hard to give her away
I loved her first

Memories started flowing.

I remembered when I left home for school.  My youth leaders had made a cd celebrating my youth.  We watched it together and cried.  You never were afraid to cry during sentimental moments.

I remembered running errands with you while living in Idaho.  It was our one chance to really talk. You listened as I expressed concerns.  You showed me that my ideas were important.

I remembered holding your hand–and laughing–when you accompanied me on field trips during elementary school.  You were the cool Dad that everyone wanted to be with.  I felt so special.

I remembered how excited you were when each of my siblings were born.  I observed as you tenderly held them for the first time and knew I wanted a husband who did just that.  I knew your love increased with each additional child.

I remembered how you taught me important lessons on sacrifice, compassion, and charity as you faithfully home taught your assigned families, served in your various callings, and worked hard to support our large family.

Your tears on my wedding day were bittersweet.  I had chosen an honorable man whom you respected, but I was leaving home.  For good.

But,  Dad,  you taught me well.   Those values you pushed so hard on me, stuck.  I believe I became the woman you hoped I would become.

Thank you, Dad, for believing in me.  I know this message is overdue, but happy belated birthday and happy Father’s Day.

Love,

Your daughter

19 Comments

Filed under Reflections