June Bugs

I over did it… as usual just because I can do something… doesn't mean I have time to!  This is a tough concept for me, because really who wouldn't want to do everything?!  But the last few months of spring kicked my trash.  So I took care of the things I promised I'd do, and then once school was out I've spent my time playing with my kids.

Pure silly bliss!!!   

I've also be slaving away in the yard.   Last summer I completely neglected it.  So this summer I've been paying for my lack of weeding.  However it has been fabulous!  

There is something magical about blossoms, earth and fresh air!   

We released a bag of 2000 lady bugs into the garden a couple nights ago.  To be honest I gave into my kids relentless "please…please….PLEASE" as they goggled at the bag of bugs on the counter at the nursery.  I'm so glad I submitted to their begging, in fact I'm thinking it may be a nice independence weekend tradition.  Ride liked the idea of it but once one of those red polka dotted beauties crawled onto her little hand she flipped!  But Momo and Scooter were in crawling critter heaven.

  Little blushing lady bugs…. EVERYWHERE!  

After we had a dessert of frosted patriotic sugar cookies on the porch and then went through a bag of those charcoal growing and glowing snake fireworks, my kids love those messy things.

...to all of you fabulous followers, and also to all the lady bugs in my garden!

P.S.  Stay tuned, I'm back playing in my studio too!!!

Antibiotics, Galoshes and Vampire teeth

Good grief… what a blogger loser I've been.  Sorry for my absence.

Life has been a bit hectic lately. I just got out of the shower to wash the lingering smell of vomit off of me.  And I know I have a long night ahead.

Last night I found myself at the urgent care with Momo.  He had a horrible fever and a host of other symptoms.  Turns out he has Herpangina… ugly mean blistering ulcers lining his throat.  He also has an ear infection… yep he's an overachiever.  Poor little tike is just plain miserable.  This evening he saw me preparing his antibiotics and out of the corner of my eye I caught him scurry away.    (He hasn't wanted to take any medicine.  I'm not sure if it is because It hurts for him to swallow, or the taste.  But he needs some for the pain, and some to clear up the infection.  I have to hold him down to get him to take his medicine.  It's awful).  He seemed shocked when I found him in the pantry.  He had hidden well, but hadn't taken into account that I could hear him sobbing. I had to pry his little hands off the door knob… he was trying so desperately to keep the door closed.   After coaxing him to release his vice grips he vomited… all over me and the floor.  Scooter promptly ran for rags, I used them to clean us both off and then caused him to take the dosing syringe of cloudy white syrup.   Making me feel even worse, is that after our little medicine wrestle I handed him his sippy cup, then through his sobs I hear him softly say "Tank-cue" (translation: Thank you).  Sigh. 

Last night he didn't sleep much… seriously he was up allllllll night.  We brought in the mattress from his crib and put it on the floor of our room.  He started out there, got about an hour of sleep,  but then ended up in bed with me and J.  He just couldn't get comfortable, and the amount of drool he produced was both impressive and disgusting.  So after a terrible night he finally submitted to sleep around 5 am.  This is when I too was finally permitted to pass out.  I'm one of those that doesn't function well on minimum sleep.  My husband is just fine, but me… I'm a disaster.  So when the alarm went off at 7:30 I straggled into Scooters room to wake her for school.  I returned to bed… and blacked out.  I have no recollection of anything else.  When I did return to life, Scooter was gone. I found Ride helping herself to a bowl of cereal and next to her, on the counter was the proof Scooter had done the same.  I couldn't feel more awful.  Although I didn't intend on falling back to sleep, I did, and left my Scooter to fend for herself.  To dress, eat, and pay attention to the time so she could walk herself to the bus stop. 

This afternoon as she walked in the door my eyes welled with guilt filled tears and simultaneously my heart swelled with pride.   She had her polka-dot umbrella in hand and had worn her flower printed pink galoshes. She explained she had checked the weather on my phone and because it had a photo of a cloud with rain coming out of it, she chose her outfit accordingly. And I have to give her props.  She looked darling.  She even did her own hair and added a matching giant flower headband.  I hugged her and apologized for my shortcomings and she simply said…"That's ok mom, I didn't want to wake you up.  I know you were up all night with Momo." Sigh #2.

And then there is Ride… we dashed out the door to preschool and miraculously made it only a few minutes late.  She dressed herself today as well… and although I wouldn't put her outfit in the category of "cute" it definitely was entertaining.  She brings such sunshine to our home.  Like tonight when I picked her up from tumbling.  There waiting for me, standing under the porch roof to avoid the rain was my lovable 5 year old, wearing black jazz pants that are awkwardly too short (she's growing like a weed) smiling widely to show off a pair of bright pink plastic vampire teeth.  She found them this afternoon, and apparently wore them to class.  I laughed out loud.  

I so often feel these precious little ones are gifts I don't think I'll ever feel worthy of.   They are such examples of patience, forgiveness, kindness and spirit. Maybe a little of them will rub off on me.  I'll take anything they are willing to share... well all except the herpangina;)

Happiness and Hope

Disclaimer; Many years ago, (I was probably 20ish) a kid I worked with made a comment… "Anj, you dress like a different decade every day."  While my clothing style has matured since then, you could still say I'm eclectic.  A little of this and a little of that.  There is so much beauty in the world I soak in what I like and toss the rest.  It turns out (which is no surprise to moi) that my blog seems to be the same.  A little of this and a little of that.  I've spent a lot of time on creative stuff… mainly because it's easy.  I have loads I could share.  And it is a big part of me. However there are many parts of me I'd like to share.  One is my faith.  I don't want to surprise any of my readers that are here for the "crafty stuff."  This blog is about all things that make me happy.  And my faith is indispensable to my happiness.  Thanks!

I recollect sitting on a plane.  It was a small plane transporting an even smaller group of people.  It seemed rickety and unstable.  My nerves were already on end, so this did not help.  Our destination was the Toronto Ontario airport.  I was scared to death.  I was about to begin my 18 month journey as an LDS missionary.  I was apprehensive about what life would be like.  The idea of knocking on doors both scared the tar out of me and made me want to puke.  It seemed 18 months would last an eternity.  That I would never actually return home.  I recall looking out the window, down at the snowy earth below and jotting some thoughts in my journal.  I wrote…"Well- right now I'm looking down on Toronto Canada.  Guess I made it…. So right now how do I feel? Nervous, scared, curious, wondering what on earth I'm doing here.  Am I really a missionary?  I don't know jack. Will I like my trainer? Who is my mission president, what is he like?  It really is weird.  One moment I'm excited- the next I want to go home…  No mountains, flat as can be.  I'm going to miss Mount Olympus.  It always has marked home….I want to be a good missionary. What a truly grand experience.  To grow up- and to serve the Lord as I do it.

DEEP BREATH - CLOSE EYES - MOVE FORWARD."

Seven years later…

We received some painful news.  I was 5 months pregnant with our third child.  Another daughter.  At an ultrasound we discovered this little girl wasn't like our other two.  We would only have her for a moment after birth and then we would witness her return to heaven.  

My heart broke that day.

In the bible we read a story of Christ and the apostles crossing the Sea of Galilee. 

"And there arose a great storm of wind, and the waves beat into the ship, so that it was now full. And he was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow: and they awake him, and say unto him, Master, carest thou not that we perish?" Mark 4:37-38

I felt this way.  Suddenly surrounded by a great storm. Alone, broken, scared.  

I was in a heap, on the floor of my closet.  I was crying.  Bawling actually.  It was the ugly cry… snot and all.  I was heaving, pleading, begging and crying out… "I can't do it, I just can't do it. I'm not strong enough."  I was afraid.  Fear had crowded my soul.  Then a hymn played through my mind over and over, soft, sweet, like a lullaby. Finally the tears subsided and peace filled my heart.  It was quiet.

“And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.And he said unto them, Why are ye so fearful? how is it that ye have no faith?" Mark 4:39-40 

Now I could hear what HE was trying to say.  It was at this moment things were clear.  Completely trusting God.   Knowing he loved me.  Knowing there was a reason and a plan.  Knowing I might not be strong enough but HE is.  He would carry me. HE is stronger than the winds, the hail, the storm. Again I said to myself... deep breath - close eyes - move forward.  

 I left my heart on an alter and stepped back.  

This  is when everything changed for me.  I found happiness, understanding, courage and above all hope.  Every kick, every hiccup was special.  I remember telling her I'd miss her as I'd stroke my belly.  I told her about her sisters, her father, me.  I did all I could to bond with her while she slept within me.  It was all the time I had.  And now instead of resenting it, I was grateful for it.  Every moment. This remains the most precious experience I've had in my life.  I count myself blessed for it. I knew my little one wouldn't be healed.   I knew I wouldn't have her for long in this mortal state, But I know I will hold her again in the heavens.  And all because of the death and resurrection of Christ. 

Our Savior.

I remember another time, again on a plane.  This time as I glanced out of the window I saw Mount Olympus.  I was home.  The 18 months that once felt they would never end flew by.  I looked back on my mission with fondness.  I gained a perspective of how quickly time goes.  How home is always close.  Sometimes things that seem like they'll never end are the opportunities we need most in life.  Where we learn and grow the most.  

I can't help but wonder, that before I came here to earth, I had the same excitement and fear I felt on the plane to Canada many years ago.  Did I think it would never end?  I now know things end.  The storms will pass.  Time will march on, and one day I will return home.  Perhaps I'll recall those Mountains that marked home for me so many years ago.  I'll look back with affection at the experiences life gave me.  I'll have my Evie.  Her bones no longer bent and small.  Her heart and mind whole.  Then I again will tell her, tell her of her siblings, her father, of me and most of all the healing power of the Savior.

"It is fitting that during the week from Palm Sunday to Easter morning we turn our thoughts to Jesus Christ, the source of light, life, and love. The multitudes in Jerusalem may have seen Him as a great king who would give them freedom from political oppression. But in reality He gave much more than that. He gave us His gospel, a pearl beyond price, the grand key of knowledge that, once understood and applied, unlocks a life of happiness, peace, and fulfillment.

The gospel is the good news of Christ. It is the revelation that the Son of God came to earth, lived a perfect life, atoned for our sins, and conquered death. It is the path of salvation, the way of hope and joy, and the assurance that God has a plan of redemption and happiness for His children.

The gospel is the way of discipleship. As we walk in that way, we can experience confidence and joy—even during times of peril, sorrow, and uncertainty."

Dieter F. Uchtdorf

Happy Easter

Laughter and Noise

A few weeks back I was awakened by a little voice.

"Mom, mom, mommy, mom".

It was 4:30 in the morning.  (However it was only a couple days after daylight savings, so it felt like 3:30).  You see Mr. Momo figured out how to climb out of his crib a couple weeks previous to this.  It's been awful.  So in the wee hours of the morning he sauntered into my room.  Wide awake.  I could see attempts to get him back to bed would be futile, so we were up. I began counting down until "melmo" (elmo aka sesame street) would be on.  Finally just after "melmo" came on the telly… Momo was out cold.

Then at 7:30 the troops were all up.  I could feel a nasty headache coming on.  I grabbed a couple IBU's to hopefully stop it before it debilitated me.  Then began the morning hustle.  Which included oatmeal for the kids.  I sent Scooter off to school and then sat down to write my goals for the day.  (I write down 5 things I want to accomplish for the day… on what ever random piece of paper I can find and with whatever is handy to write with, this particular day it was a red sharpie).  When suddenly a little hand covered in oatmeal landed on my paper and then all over the couch.  Momo had oatmeal everywhere.  Uggh.  I sat my paper down, scolded him and went to grab a rag to clean breakfast off of my couch.  Within that short 10 seconds my son had the red sharpie marker and had written on my couch.  
"Honestly, are you trying to destroy my house?"

I believe those were my exact words.  I was upset.  I began scrubbing the couch removing oatmeal (aka natural concrete) and sharpie.  The pills must not have been working because my headache was becoming a monster.  In hopes it would make me feel better I retreated to the bathroom to get ready for the day.  Momo followed.  As I was doing my hair I looked down to find he had retrieved my deodorant from the counter and pulled the stick of it out.  I again scolded him and cleaned the white mess off the floor.  I then replaced what was left of the stick back into it's home.   I looked up… where was Momo?  After a little searching I found him downstairs on my studio desk devouring the sucker Scooter had given me for valentines.  He was covered in red sticky gunk.  And stuck to the sticky was glitter from my current project.  So I carried him upstairs to the bathroom.  My head was POUNDING.  I hadn't had a headache this miserable in a long time.  Momo tossed his sucker onto the carpet as I was transporting him.  Once in the bathroom he was stripped down.  I left to throw away the diaper and retrieve the sucker from the carpet.  There on the kitchen floor was a LARGE puddle of water and ice.  I had forgotten to lock the water on the fridge and Momo must have helped himself when I was franticly attempting to remove red marker from the couch.  On the way back to the bathroom I was welcomed to another giant puddle of water, this time on the carpet, next to a cup that Momo must have filled and "unfilled" over my carpet.  Once in the bathroom,  Momo was waiting for me, and I put him in the bath.  Head… still unrelenting I called for Ride to come into the bathroom so I could do her hair.  As I was doing her hair I hear Momo say "bubbles" I looked over to see LOADS of bubbles.  He had "unfilled" (he's good at that) an entire bottle of shampoo into his bath.  Urrgghh.  (Mental note… get shampoo and deodorant at the store).  I continued to do Rides hair as a little white naked body went streaking out of the bathroom.  I was beyond caring at this point.  It was only 11 am… my head was still pounding and I was ready to surrender the day to my sons antics.  After finishing up Rides hair I went to find the boy.  I could here him giggling downstairs.  There he was, his stomach on the base of the blue Ikea swinging chair we have hanging in the "playroom"  his bare bottom swinging in the breeze as he squealed… 
Wwwweeeeeeeee!
  Pure glee.  This made me smile.  The headache was still there. So was the marker on the couch.  The day wouldn't get any easier… especially once nap time rolled around and getting a toddler to stay in his crib when it's no longer a cage is a conquest. But somehow those things were minimized with the memory of that little bare backside on the swing.  
Sometimes it's the little things that get me through the day.

I have a Brian Andreas print hanging in my (very messy) laundry room… it reads…

There are lives I can imagine without children but none of them have the same laughter and noise.

One day I'll look around at a clean house, and miss that laughter and noise.  
I think I'll even miss the mess.
Frame by http://www.kitschydigitals.com/

Extraordinary Life

After writing this came the big debate… do I blog it? I almost didn’t. I guess I worry I may come off wrong, or that I sound silly. Then I realized I was letting fear get the best of me, and that just ticked me off, so consequently now I have to post it. Anyway only like 5 people read my blog anyway. And I still can’t quite put my finger on why I’m hesitant.

Oh well...

J came home from a fireside a couple weeks back. Edwin Mulitalo who has played for the NFL (the Ravens & the Lions and is now a free agent) addressed the youth. J shared with me the many inspiring thoughts that had been given that night. I was a tad jealous, but at least grateful I got the second hand account. One of the many thoughts Brother Mulitalo shared that captured my interest was his statement….

“I’m an ordinary person, whose had extraordinary experiences.”

I thought about that. I’ve since then changed it a bit to suit me.

And I came up with…

“I’m an ordinary gal, whose having an extraordinary life.”

I have not visited far off lands. I haven’t mingled with “important” people. I haven’t been famous, or even seen famous. My clothes mostly come from Target and occasionally Forever 21.

I’ve googled my name… nope, nothing there. I haven’t even been skydiving.

So what’s so extraordinary about that?

I made a decision shortly after my first child was born. I was feeling frumpy. I was overwhelmed by my new “job.” I felt that my “youth” was disappearing and I was entering a new faze of my mortal experience. I decided rather than feeling life was all but over (I laugh at that now) that I would embrace this new me. That I would make life, no matter when or how it changed, no matter what is handed me, or what circumstances arise… to make that life extraordinary. I’ve come to the conclusion that having an extraordinary life isn’t reserved for a select few. Rather it is a choice.

To clarify,

I feel that when you take what life has appointed you,

and do the BEST you can with it….

that life becomes extraordinary.

I’ve been given a gift.

I’m doing what I’ve wanted to do since the time I was a youngster. I get to be a mom. I know people have differing opinions about it, but for me I consider being home with my children a gift. It is something I want, and somehow right now I’ve been blessed with it. Being a SAHM isn’t easy. It takes a great deal of will power. I am my own boss. Every day I have to make a list for myself of what I want to have happen. Sometimes I fail. At times I’m overzealous so I don’t meet every expectation. Other days my toddler attempts to convince me that he’s the boss. One day last week he put my favorite earrings in the toilet. He then discovered how to move a chair to provide the height he required to grab his sisters Halloween candy from the counter. After dumping it all on the floor he sat amongst his prey and proceeded to put multiple suckers in his mouth. To top it off he did it all in the buff… cause who need’s clothes when your 18 months old? He's also in this marvelous stage where he wants to feed himself. So he has an average of 3 baths a day. One after each meal. So a better portion of my day becomes devoted to disaster clean up. Additionally, there are certain aspects of motherhood I’m not very good at. I’m not up at 6 a.m. preparing well-balanced breakfasts of eggs, pancakes, bacon and orange juice. Morning and I accept each other… but that doesn’t mean we have to like each other. Cold cereal and milk are all right by me.

On the rare occasion we have pancakes… it’s usually for dinner.

Anyway… my fault list could go on a mile, but I’m attempting to focus on the positive.

Despite all this there are those moments of satisfaction, when I feel a sense of accomplishment. When I just don’t give a little of me, but I give all of me. I host a mean dance party with my 5 and 7 year olds. I’m outstanding at bedtime stories. Holidays are full of traditions, excitement and usually a little glitter. Fashion shows are delivered on a regular basis to our one member audience

(J is a trooper). I give my kids art lessons, play games and cook with them. There is never a shortage of love and hugs and happy moments. I go to church, spend most of the time in the hall chasing “the boy” but I do it because that’s what you do, and that is what I want my girls to see me doing… going even when it's tough. I’m trying to learn new things. Like canning, gardening and sewing and how to change a diaper and talk on the phone at the same time. I’m trying to make our house a home, a comfortable and peaceful place for my children to grow. There is no shortage of creative ideas being attempted in our home. It can be in the way I discipline or when I’m painting and my daughters hover over me asking me questions about the process.

These are the moments and the accomplishments that make me think…

I’m not the best at this, but I’m the best I can be at it.

My goal is that in the twilight of life (God willing), I will look back with no regrets. I will be satisfied with how I spent my time and energy. I will feel confident that I gave my all, that I magnified my calling.

That I did the best I could with my extraordinary life,

and with these

EXTRAORDINARY GIFTS…

These beautiful photos were taken by the most talented photographer ever, Angie Monson.

Find her here...simplicityphotography.com/