Manic Motherhood at it's FINEST!!

Why "I am NOT a VOLCANO!"

Why "I am NOT a VOLCANO!"
click the volcano for the due explanation
"In all of living, have much fun and laughter. Life is to be enjoyed, not just endured." — Gordon B. Hinckley
Exaggeration is the spice of life

Book I am Currently Reading: Peter and The Shadow Thief

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Is this NOT amazing????? Crazy! And where do I sign up??? (I mean, if my bladder wasn't completely ruined by 4 pregnancies. I'd pee my pants with every single jump! LOL!) Where exactly do you look up "jump rope lessons"?

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Feel Good Friday and Letters Of Intent




1. THE most delicious pumpkin pie, smothered in very extra creamy whipped cream and a tall glass of milk to chase it down with.

2. I'm getting the hang of my new crochet hobby!

3. I *think* I am getting used to my pretty terrible haircut.

4. I am watching "It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown." And that is epic.

5. Two more days to Halloween (we're trick or treating on Saturday) and I'm about as excited as my kids.

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Foursons




Dear Politicians,
As much as I appreciate your ability to recognize discrepancies in other people, and to spend campaign dollars making commercials pointing fingers, I am telling you right now that I am not going to vote for you if all I hear from you is "So-and-so voted for this bad thing, and raised taxes while giving himself a raise."

In all actuality, I am 100% more likely to vote for a guy I completely disagree with for the simple reason that I know exactly where he stands on such novel items as ~gasp~ the topics at hand. For ME, it is much more of a window into the type of guy you are that you have nothing better to do than bash your opponent.


Is honesty important? Sure. But if it's your WHOLE campaign, then you don't deserve my vote.

Signed,
Grow up. You're not in 3rd grade anymore.

*********************

Dear People Who Make Commercials; AKA Dream Smashers,

Is it absolutely necessary that you mention "stocking stuffers" and portray mom or dad buying your product and then flash forward to kids opening presents on Christmas morning marked "From Santa"? I mean, maybe that's okay if you're on prime time and you're advertising dishes or a crock pot or paint, or something that a child would otherwise not be watching or paying attention to- but when it's a toy? You have GOT to be kidding me.

My kids are pretty observant, I'll admit, but you're making it obvious. Please, for the love of Santa, keep your trap shut and just advertise without betraying the sacred secret of Santa Claus.

Signed,

BELIEVE!!!!!

**********************

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Wordless Wednesday

A gorgeous florescent tree outside my Lilly's school.

These bushes are hideous for the whole rest of the year. But for a few precious months, they turn a startling and beautiful candy colored pink.








This is a kind of vine found ALL OVER my town's fences and it happened to climb an evergreen tree. It looks awesome.













































Monday, October 25, 2010

Touchy Topic Tuesday: The Name Game

Touchy Topic Tuesday:

The Name Game



I come from a family full of kids with unusual names. Of course, you all know my name is Brae (Bray), I have a brother, Biege (Beej), a sister, Bergan, and a youngest brother Bozton.



My children don't have any strange names, though i HAVE been told that my girls have old lady names, and, yes, my son's name is less than common.


Anyway, who the heck cares?


Finding a baby name is one of my favorite parts of being pregnant. I am not the biggest fan of pregnancy in the first place. I'm a pretty tiny girl, so as soon as I get past the morning sickness, which plays out for 16 weeks as my worst nightmare, I get uncomfortable. Fast. There's not much room between my ribs and my hips, and a baby fills the space in record time.



Back aches, water retention, constipation, pinched nerves, insomnia, out of control emotions and the list goes on. I am not a fan. I LOVE my sweet babies. Which is why I do this. But I don't like pregnancy.

So, finding out if my baby is a boy or girl, and then spending hours, days and weeks pouring over books, internet sites, and throwing out polls on birth boards searching for a perfect name, arguing with Brandon over weirdness, exactly what is IN the name that can provoke ridicule from other kids, uniqueness, and other factors, is one of the things that gets me through the 9 months of pain and suffering that is pregnancy.

In roughly 10-12 weeks, we are going to have a beautiful new baby boy who will be a perfect little blank slate for me to spend the next 18 years screwing up, and apologizing to, and his name is one Brandon and I have had picked out since we were waiting to find out if Scarlet was a boy or girl.

His name will be Teague Liam MacCool.

Since I spent said months pouring over books and internet sites, etc, as was mentioned above, while waiting to find out about my new little one, I had a perfect girls name picked out too.

Earlier today, I took my youngest two children (as Lilly was in school) to a Halloween party thrown by two of my friends here. In all, there were 5 of us, and 12 children between us. While the children ran amok in their Halloween costumes, and ate pumpkin shaped ham and cheese sandwiches and waaaaaay too much candy, the moms chatted. Eventually, the conversation turned to our children, their names, what they meant and where we got them from.

As I am pregnant, I was asked what we would be naming this new baby, and, of course, I told them. I also mentioned that, if we have another girl, her name will be Hazel.

One of the other women turned around, a slight flash of fire in her eyes, and in mock good nature, slapped my shoulder. "But that's OUR name if we have another girl!"

My answer? In jest, I said "Well, I guess it's a race then, huh?"

I unintentionally left her speechless.

Of course, I laughed and shook my head, and told her "Then use it! I didn't make it up. If you want to use it, go for it! And if there are two Hazels in the same class, well, it won't be any different from there being two Ashleys or two Sarahs."

All the other women agreed, we had a laugh, and the conversation turned.

My mother has always had the opinion that one should never reveal a baby name until the baby is in your arms. In fact, I remember always waiting at my grandparents' house just waiting for the phone call to find out the name of my new baby brother or sister. That's right. The baby's name wasn't even a family secret. It was a well guarded secret which she protected with her life.

The theory is, if you tell someone your baby's name, someone who is due before you will inevitably "steal" it. So you keep it a secret so that no one else can have it. Like it's a precious gem. Like it's something no one has ever thought of before in the entire history of the planet.

Daily I see posts about this on my birth board. "Name stealing." And not just name stealing, but people get upset about someone using a name that even SOUNDS remotely like the name they have chosen.

For example, I once read a vent about someone who planned on naming her new girl Lulu- a name she says she had picked out as a little girl. Some good friends of the family had a daughter named Leelou, who was somewhere around 9 years old, and threatened removal of friendship if said woman were to keep her child's name.

Once, someone was seen to be venting online about a neighbor who was more of an acquaintance, naming their new dog Lily, which is the name they had chosen for their daughter.

However, when I was pregnant with my second baby, my first son, Mahone, I happened to live in a neighborhood which was full of pregnant women all due very near the same time I was. Out of 9 of them, 6 of them had boys.

And I blabbed Mahone's name all over the place.

Oh, sure, I endured a lot of ridicule. Many people thought it was too strange, too foreign, or came up with all types of things that kids could use to make fun of it. One woman even told me that, in Spanish, it means the word sh*t, which, after only brief research, it was obvious that it does not. (As a matter of fact, it's an Irish word that means 'bear')

I just happen to be of the opposite opinion of my mom. The truth is, I sort of feel that, if my baby's name is out there and everyone knows about it, well, if someone 'steals' it, then everyone else will know that I chose it first. The name is something that was mine to begin with, even if my baby was given it later.

Anyway, in addition to my opinion that everyone should know my baby's name as soon as I do, if only for the fact that they know I'll be using it, I just honestly don't even care if someone uses the name I chose. And personally, I've never been in one place for more than two years since I've been married.

Now, I suppose that if it were one of my siblings or Brandon's siblings who decided to use the name I had planned, then to just go ahead and use the name might not be an option. Could get a little bit weird. But, for the most part, I think that getting upset over someone who works with you or lives near you using the name you have picked out is just petty. It's a name. There's no patent. Just use the name yourself.

So there you have it. Let it be known that if we are given another baby girl, her name will be Hazel. It's not changing. Or, at least, if it DOES change, it'll be because I loved a name I found more than I love Hazel. Not because someone else uses it.

******************************************

How about you?

Do you think it's a better idea to keep your baby's name a secret? Do you divulge the name? What would you do if someone close to you used the name? Would you change it? Would you confront them? Would you still use that name?

Let us know!

Lilly said...

"Mom, Zarah has a mommy and a daddy tooth."

Translation: A friend of Lilly's at school has two adult teeth.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

My newest quest.

I love projects.
I love to create. In fact, I have a very dominant NEED to create. For me, there is nothing more stifling than a moment that isn't filled with a chunk, ball, coil or otherwise pile of something that is nothing but can, with my hands and vast imagination, be turned into something. Particularly if that something can end up being wonderful, unique and desired by someone else.
After all, in my opinion, if I create something that is only of use or interest to myself but no one else, then I have failed entirely.
I have many hobbies.
My blog for example, which is wonderful for me because as it grows, as I read other blogs, become friends and share things about my life with you, my blog becomes a source of constant validation...which, for my ego, is a must.
I sculpt (i know you probably didn't know this about me. It's not my most prominent hobby. I don't spend a lot of time on it any more- but I can't bring myself to get rid of my supplies.) with polymer clay.
I make Fairy Wings (www.thegossamerjewelbox.blogspot.com to see lots and lots of pictures, or visit www.gossamerjewelbox.etsy.com to order your very own pair!)
I quilt, I am an amiture model and photographer. I sing, until i broke my ankle, I was a ballroom, ballet, swing and Irish dancer. I Make spoon charms and jewelry, and I love all things crafty.
In the mean time, somewhere, I perform motherly and wifely duties, clean my house, and, if there's any time left, I sleep.
Sooooooo, since I NEED another hobby to occupy my extensive amounts of extra time, I am learning to crochet. (Note the gooey mess of sarcasm pooling on my keyboard.)

When I was a child, I spent hours upon hours rolling her variant colors of yarn into big soft balls, and sticking the needles into it like it was some kind of spindly atom.



It wasn't long, though, before I was a grown up and completely loathed the thought of crochet. And knitting, and whatever else to do with yarn.



Yarn=fat and ugly.



I purposely missed the Relief Society meetings where the 'older' women were going to teach us 'younger' women how to do these works of art.



I know, I know- a lot of people out there crochet...but with stigmas like:





(Really? Do you REALLY think this looks prettier sitting on your side board or end table than the bare box of tissue?)

(um.....WHERE would one put this?)


(One can never have too many pot holders.)




(How is this NOT tacky?)





('nough said.)



(~Sigh~)


However, last Christmas, I bought both of my daughters knitted ponchos that were just adorable. They are very colorful, with flowers and long goblin hoods that come to a tasseled point on the tip. They are so cool, and inspire all kinds of elf photography (once again: www.thegossamerjewelbox.blogspot.com )
Unfortunately, Scarlet took a loose end on hers and unraveled a huge hole in her poncho. And I cried.
I THINK my mother in law will be able to fix it. I can't knit. And I am learning to crochet instead. It seems easier. And one of my requirements for my hobbies (and one of the biggest reasons that I don't sculpt very often anymore) is instant (or at least sort of soon) gratification. i hate projects that take for freaking ever to get done- which is probably the only reason I haven't yet picked up house renovations.
I recently ordered a whole bunch of pointed elvish hat and shoe patterns off of etsy.com. It seems that, even though past crochet projects were nothing but hideous, all those crafty, chic and creative women out there, are coming up with infinite creations that really are wonderful and unique. I can't wait! I'll post pictures of anything that turns out decent! I promise!

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Feel Good Friday and Letters of Intent


I am happy.

I really mean that.

I have been through a lot of unhappiness in my lifetime, and there's no one to blame but myself. Throughout my marriage, we have been in and out of 'good' spots. There were times where we almost called it quits, when our ideas of marriage, love, and how a relationship should be were skewed so that we didn't recognise what we had, we only wanted what we THOUGHT we SHOULD have.

I am exhausted at all hours of the day. Having 2 hours of sleep or 10 hours of sleep leaves me with no difference in my spunk.

I have severe hormonal attitude with people who say rude and insensitive things to me about my children, my life, or my pregnancy. Apparently, I don't know the meaning of taking the high road. Because I always have to retort.

I have children who drive me insane every single day, though, really, if they were THAT bad, I wouldn't be having another one. So that must say a lot about exactly the way I feel about them.

I don't have everything. I worry about money. I want things I can't have. I can't always afford the lessons or things my children want. But I can honestly say I have never, in my entire life, been happier than I am now. I adore my husband, who is so infinitely wonderful at putting up with me, my hobbies (which are so many in number that I couldn't begin to list them right now- and it probably goes without saying that they actually add to the money problems we have. LOL.) who supports me constantly, who thinks that I get prettier every single day when the mirror obviously lets me know that I am simply growing older, fatter, grayer and wrinklier. Yes, I'm 28. I still think I'm old.

I think a lot of my happiness has to do with him. Family in general is wonderful. But I think, when I look at what my options were back in the day, if given the same beautiful, intelligent, hilarious, and otherwise precious children with all the same quirks and personalities they own today, having the same lifestyle I do now, in the same house, the same town, the same van, the same everything, while dealing with any of the men I had been seriously involved with, and their attitudes, their ideas about me and what I should have been or what I wasn't doing or was doing that bothered them, and imagining what my life might be like...well, I honestly think that I would not be anywhere NEAR as happy as I am.

In one case, I'm sure I'd be divorced. In the other case, I think I would have been repressed. That man had a tendency to be overzealous about women's rights. It's very funny, because his intention was to be supportive of our freedoms, but he really failed to see that part of our having freedoms is that we are still able to choose to be mothers, and to stay home with those children if we feel it is best for them, which I always did, and he always thought it was a bad example for any girl children. Repression. He was such a nonconformist that he became a conformist.

Yes, happiness really doesn't rely on anyone but ourselves. But it really does help when you have wonderful people around you. And I sure lucked out.

That's what's making me feel good today.

*********************************


Foursons


To my very own resident Utah Driver (Brandon):

My minivan is not your tiny little sports car. Doing 3 point turn on the middle of busy main street while making cars stop behind you and wait for you to finish your 'u turn' is neither safe nor legal. I don't care how many right turns you have to take, or if you have to pull into a parking lot to turn around, you have my precious babies in that van and you'd better obey the laws.

Signed,

I'm not kidding. Maybe I'd better drive next time.
********************************

I don't know how to be sensitive about this, so here it goes:

I'm severely sorry to those who have trouble getting pregnant. I really am. I hope that you are able to have your children soon, and I'm sure you'll be lovely, wonderful parents.

In the mean time, I'm not going to avoid you, pretend that my pregnancy isn't painful, stop my pregnancy updates that automatically post to my facebook each week, or laugh when you tell me to cross my legs, ask if I know what birth control is, or tell me that my vagina is not a clown car.

I'm sorry- but those posts aren't put there to rub salt on your wounds. They are put there because I have every right to talk about how I'm feeling, especially considering it's a public domain where it's a general statement, and whoever wants to read and reply can do so, and yes, I know that means you too. But I have near 600 other friends on facebook. You are only one person. If I posted it to YOUR WALL, then that would be rubbing it in. posting it on MY status isn't directed at anyone at all. Besides, I actually have family and other friends who genuinely DO want to know what's going on with me, how my pregnancy is going, and think it's cute to hear some of the things my children say in relation to their new baby brother.

For the record, telling me that I have too many children and that I should stop having them doesn't really make sense.

Babies are not grown in a small pool like a bunch of trout, and whoever has the best bait gets one. It's not a "not enough fish in the sea" kind of thing. If I have 10, it really doesn't diminish your chances of having one. Likewise, if I stop now, simply because you're upset that I'm pregnant and you feel that I should "spread the wealth", it isn't going to increase your chance of getting one either.

I have never been the kind of person to rub it in. I try to be sensitive. But in my opinion, sensitivity works two ways. And no one should make me feel bad about my family choices. I didn't get pregnant to spite you, no matter what you might think. When I tried for months to have another baby, you were not the one I was thinking of when I peed on stick after stick after stick.

My family choices have never, do not now and never will include you.

Signed
You're so vain, you probably think this post is about you.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

The deepest definition of youth is life as yet untouched by tragedy- Alfred North Whitehead

Mama's Losin' It


Mama Kat's writer's prompt:
#5- a time I feared for the safety of a loved one.
These two stories will likely just sound long winded. But they broke my heart. They both center around the same main thing, but the fact is that it relates my fear for 7 different loved ones almost all at once. I would love for you to take the time to read them. I still can't look back at them without sobbing.
************************************************




The year, 2009, had been the absolute worst year of my life. I think that I can very safely and honestly say that.

The end of 2008 was blissful at worst. That sounds cliche, but I was happy. My life had rounded itself out to be very pleasant, and the end of the year is my domain anyway. Autumn lasted longer than normal, leading into a fresh and cool Halloween. For my anniversary, I got to see "Into the Woods"- one of my favorite productions, and had a glorious evening at The Melting Pot wrapped in an authentic Chinese style silk dress. On Thanksgiving, we spent the day snowed in at my mother's house, the smell of baking and turkey with all the trimmings warmed the house faster than any glowing fire could have. My husband teased my youngest brother and sister, while I got to know my soon-to-be sister in law over a 5000 piece jigsaw puzzle. She and my brother were married in early December, and Christmas was much the same with presents until noon, a storm to die for (in the GOOD way) and dozens of friends and family.

I should have known back then, that 2009 was going to be horrible. We ushered the new year in with a masked ball. I was a swan in a silver ball gown adorned with white feathers and wings, and a black feathered mask, my hair in solid ringlets about my neck and chin. And I was severely depressed.

















In high school, my crowning achievement was that I was an editor of my high school literary magazine. It is a spectacular magazine called Chasms, and it was 3rd in the nation for best high school published works. It goes without saying that we were good writers. And not just for being kids. We had a stellar teacher who understood us (or at least tried), who accepted us (without fail), and who pushed us to always be better. This man is my hero to this day. How he managed to put up with so much whining, desks affixed to the ceiling, Latin words written in white out across his walls, dirty jokes about classic nude art, and flat Dr.Pepper in place of his usual morning coffee is beyond me. I would have never made it. Oh, how intense those days were. How invigorating. How lonely. How exhausting. How numb.






My mother on several occasions refused to proof read my poetry because she didn't want to read about sex, drugs or death. Well, as I mentioned before, I was a 'good Mormon girl' and had never experienced sex, drugs, or, obviously, death...but who didn't WANT to? And so we wrote about it. I still to this day haven't experienced drugs, just for the record, but sex and death...well, I have 3 1/2 children, so that solves the sex question, and I have witnessed death being cheated twice last year. But I digress. My point is: how numb.

On December 31, 2008-January 1 2009, I was numb. Numb enough that it brought back those waves of memories. The intense highs of teenage angst. The lows so low that you felt like dying. Around me, the music raged. My friends embraced, scandals were started when a girl and a boy who didn't 'belong' together kissed at midnight. And I wanted to be sucked into a dark closet and stay there. I was so numb, that I couldn't feel the air sucked into my mouth, even with wet lips. I never wanted to cut myself. But I could see why people do it. Because they just want to FEEL something.

My own depression and numbness was fairly short lived. We received our tax return early in January because we filed as soon as was humanly possible. We bought a house in 2008, so our 7500.00 went directly to our financial advisers and they invested it.

But darkness fell when I found my mother and father unconscious from carbon monoxide poisoning in mid-January. My youngest brother and my sister were awake, but sick. They all recovered quickly in the ambulance, but my mother was intubated at the hospital. She was in a coma for nearly a week after that. (http://www.iswendiok.blogspot.com/) Doctors didn't tell us much at all. Many friends and nurses and doctors who cared for her in her comatose state told us only the best things. We didn't know until after she woke up, finally, that they didn't expect her to survive.






She recovered quickly from there on out, but it took months for everything to be sorted out and back to normal. I was able to be strong because everyone needed me to be. But it was absolutely the opposite when my child, not my mother, was in a life threatening situation.

On the Autumn Equinox, September 21, 2009, which, by the way, was a spectacularly cool day, and I could see the red leaves starting to bleed onto the mountain side. The air was crisp, and the wind was sharp. I spent most of the day euphoric and mostly pretty patient with my children because my excitement made for high moods.

After dinner, my children, dressed in pajamas, retreated into our basement to their playroom. I stayed in the kitchen to clean up dinner. And I heard a deafening crash a few minutes later. I knew what it was before I got there. My youngest little one, had pulled a television and a dresser down on herself.

Obviously, I panicked, and I picked her up. There was no blood at first, and so I thought she was just out of breath. But then a crimson stream came pouring from her right ear and her nose. 911 was dialed, the bishopric was called and Priesthood blessings were given.

( This is Scarlet Serafina Estelle BEFORE her accident at the Great Salt Lake in September.)







The paramedics rushed Scarlet to the hospital, reassuring me over her screams that she was going to be fine. Obviously, I didn't think so. I was already panicking at the thought of losing my little girl. My other two children went home with a neighbor.






From the ER, they life flighted my baby to Primary Children's hospital. My husband was already there, as he was in class at the University of Utah when it happened. But I couldn't get on the helicopter with her. The hour drive to the hospital, was excruciating. I called my mother and asked her to come. One of my best friends escorted me there, driving so that I didn't have to.




Upon arrival, I found my baby in the midst of a CT scan, screaming for her momma. I could have vomited. She did. Mostly blood, and her undigested dinner. I blamed myself, of course.




Later, while being poked and prodded with IVs and lights and blood pressure cuffs, my little daughter was given a teddy bear, who she promptly named "Pink" (and no surprises there. She has a bunny, 2 kitty cats, and several more assorted bears by the same name) and a blue blanket that she called "soft". One doctor let her curl her little fingers around his, and winked at her. She giggled at him, and tried to mimic.




We learned from the CT scan that she had a fracture that went from around her left eye bone, around her head and through her right ear. She had a broken bone in that right ear, and she was leaking spinal fluid from it. She also had a nerve that was damaged so she had some paralysis on the right side of her face. She also had an artery in her neck that was corrugated by the impact and pinched. Blood was still getting to the brain, but they worried about a stroke.







We spent the night in sleepless tears in her room. But upon waking, we heard a tiny voice say "Pink fish. Blue fish." On her ceiling, above her crib, was painted a pink fish and a blue fish. That day, she went in for another CT scan and some x-rays of her neck and back. She kicked and screamed and bit at the nurses until they were done with her, and then jumped off the table into my arms. One of the doctors said "Well, I guess she doesn't have a neck or back injury."





My girl is a fighter. She had to be.













This is Scarlet on the second day, coloring in her Strawberry Shortcake coloring book with markers. Primary Children's hospital is the best there is, and they know how to treat children. At this point, she was wearing the neck brace because she hadn't officially been cleared by the doctor for lack of back and neck injuries.










Over the next few days, she improved phenomenally. We were moved to a new room, where she didn't need to be on wires, and she didn't need the brace. She liked to take rides in her wagon with all her baby dolls the nurses brought. Every day she received a new Priesthood blessing from my husband and her grandpa or uncles. Heavenly Father was ever present.





On Wednesday night, September 23rd, I spent the night in her room in a state of only semi-unconsciousness. Neither asleep nor awake. Scarlet had come through almost every single one of her worrisome hurdles just fine. I was finished blaming myself, because it didn't help her get any better because I felt that it was my fault. And I couldn't be an effective mother if I kept trying to do so. I knew my baby was going to live, so I was past praying for her survival. She was completely herself. She was as sass-mouthy and attention demanding as she had always been, and she proved that her nickname "Trouble" (which is what we call her at home) was well earned when she tried to climb a television stand to push play for the 40th time on Monsters Inc. Obviously, she hadn't learned her lesson.







But her nerve was still obviously having trouble.




So that night, in my unconsciousness, I begged and begged and begged the Lord for just one more miracle after thanking him for all the ones that had already happened. If he would just give Scarlet ONE MORE, I would NEVER. EVER. ask for another miracle again. The Lord told me in both a sense of genuine understanding, and of Fatherly reprimand, that that idea was ridiculous because 1. It's a false promise. Of COURSE I was going to ask for another miracle. This is not likely the last time one of my children has a serious accident. And 2. Why in the world would my Father, who wants everything GOOD for me and my children actually WANT me to STOP asking for miracles? He told me to ask away and let my faith prove him true.




















We were able to bring our little Scarlet home on that Thursday night. The night after my personal revelation. We had been home for just over a week when I took this picture. This is a picture of her with her brother going on a "Date". He's driving. Her nerve was doing so much better. She almost had a full smile by then, though when she cried, that side still didn't show much emotion. But the docs expected her to fully recover, which she did eventually. It can take up to 6 months for a nerve to be completely healed. I don't recall exactly how long it took her.






I took Scarlet down the stairs the day after we came home. I asked her "Scarlet, do you remember what happened over there?"






She looked at the area, pursed her little rosebud lips, and said "It broked." Yes, baby, it did.






In January of 2010, I took her for a series of hearing tests, which she passed easily. Her speach is perfect and she is actually advanced. She has no hearing loss.






This child is going to be the death of me, though. She thinks she is invincible now...except when it comes to spiders or other creepy crawly things.




My husband had been out of a job for the last two months when Scarlet got hurt. We didn't really have any idea how we've survived that far. I feel in my heart that it was so that he would be able to have the time to spend with his family while our baby recovered. We needed him there. He still needed a job, which he finally picked up in October, but we felt calm through the whole unemployment. We felt peace. Most of the time. The life flight itself cost $9000.00. It's going to take us a decade to pay the hospital bills. But each of my babies is priceless. And Scarlet is perfect. She's worth it.

*******************************







Lilly Saber Craig came to me in dreams before I was even pregnant with her. She looked always like a fat cheeked cherubim with eyes so dark you could drown in them. And when she was born, she was old and wise.








Lilly never warranted baby talk. She had a sarcastic glare, even from the beginning, and she let it be known when she was thoroughly unamused. Her language skills grew quickly, as well as her attention span. Neighbors and acquaintances were continually amazed when I told them her age. They always expected her to be much older because of her vocabulary and other skills that were similarly ahead of the curve.










It did not take me long to join the ranks. She felt older, looked older, and behaved older. I soon expected her to handle older responsibilities than she really should have. Nothing drastic, mind you. I did not ever expect her to do anything like clean toilets, or cook dinners. Obviously, I never left her alone. But, for example, if she were rowdy at an inopportune time, I was more irritated with her behavior than I might have been another child's. I identify greatly with my daughter, and am proud of her extreme headstrong personality and how outgoing she is.








As you can see, it is no surprise that she has always had elaborate plans for the future. Lilly, for a long time, wanted to be a doctor. But she wanted to be the doctor who "helped mommies have babies." I have always tried to support my children in their dreams, even when they are unrealistic. Like when my son said he wanted to be Darth Vader. Naturally, I was thrilled about her choice.






Her career goals change on a regular basis, but two things have been constant since she was able to speak.



1. She wants to be a mommy. And I was informed at the beginning of this school year that she wants 10 children because 10 is her favorite number, and that I would be allowed to hold them and baby sit them while she goes on dates with her husband.



2. She wants to marry Brandon (the top most picture is of her kissing him.) Brandon is the oldest son of our dearest friends. He was named for my husband, and he is our god child. Lilly calls him her prince, and while she has had several other 'boyfriends' through preschool and her church classes, she always says "I'm going to marry Brandon, but so-and-so will do for now." She even has her entire wedding planned, down to the temple (thank goodness), the pale pink dress (Yay for unconventionality!), bright pink lilies, and a reception outdoors in the snow at Christmas time so she can use Christmas trees as decoration. (Don't worry. I, like you, am hoping for her tastes to change as she gets older.)






Both of these desires stir extreme pride in my heart. I have never wanted anything more than to be a mother. To many children. Her desires validate me, because if SHE wants to be a mother, then I must be doing an alright job, and since there is nothing in this life that I have done that is more fulfilling, or more honorable, I naturally want her to experience the same thing.






I had mentioned in the last story I told today that 2009 had been the worst year of my entire life. Never had I endured such stress and so much uncertainty about the future. I have been on the most terrifying end of two near tragedies, as I have mentioned in previous posts. But what I have not mentioned is that my children witnessed them first hand.






All three of my children were present and watching when I tried, and failed, to wake my parents from their carbon monoxide induced comas. They witnessed them being brought out by the paramedics on stretchers and loaded into ambulances. They saw the oxygen masks, the breathing tubes, the IVs and the bandages. They saw my mother spasm and shake uncontrollably and cough up voluminous amounts of clear liquids.






In September, Mahone and Lilly were the sole witnesses to my darling baby Scarlet's accident with the dresser and television. During the ordeal with the paramedics, Mahone smooshed himself as deep into a corner as he possibly could until a police man lured him out with promise of a video. Lilly screamed and cried and looked around in a panic, asking me if her sister was going to die.






It wasn't so much as I was failing to shelter my children as it was that I was the one in place to make the 911 calls and answer the questions of age, birth dates, addresses, social security numbers, and other such inquiries. There I was. And where I go, they go too. Perhaps I do still blame myself. But thus is the curse of mothers.






We tried to talk openly with the children about these things. We have taught them about ambulances, calling the police and 911. How they can help, and how they felt about the whole thing. In the hospital, a child specialist talked with them about their sister, and about what was going on.






They seemed to handle it alright for awhile. Once, Mahone drew red spots all over some dogs he was counting on his homework paper and said it was blood. Upon more discussion, I found that it was in relation to Scarlet's accident. He said "Next time, I won't cry." But it was okay to cry. I did. There were one or two other incidents of similar play, but mostly, I think Mahone has worked it out.






Lilly took a little longer, and I mistakenly let myself slip into a comfortable belief that she had no internal struggle.






Just a few short days before Halloween, I had put my babies to bed, and gone down stairs to veg out on the couch. It wasn't long before I heard soft footsteps, and a "Mommy, I'm sad." I easily discovered Lilly, perched on the top step, unspilled tears welling in her dark eyes. When I scooped her up, I asked her why she was sad, and she answered. "I don't want to ever be a mommy."






My hear immediately sank.






Well, why not? "Because I don't want what happened to Scarlet to happen to my kids."






As the days went on, I found that not only had she decided to not become a mother, she had also decided never to get married. Whenever we passed a temple, she would say "But I'm not going to get married. I'm just going to be a princess and live with you." On Halloween, she told me that if she had kids, then she would be down in the laundry room folding laundry when the tv fell down so that she could tell Scarlet "no no!" For a short moment, I thought she blamed me, that she thought that if I had been there, then this would never have happened.(Perhaps I still blame myself too, and it was my guilty conscience speaking.) My husband snapped me back into reality when he said that she blames herself.






Each night, just before we would tuck her in bed, Lilly would begin to cry, and we would assure her that she didn't need to worry about having children right now. After all, she was only four years old. And that if she didn't want kids, then she didn't have to have them.






One particular night, with Mahone and Scarlet both sound asleep, we spent a good half hour on the floor of the bathroom, snuggling her, telling her it was nobody's fault. That it wasn't HER fault. And that Scarlet was fine. Her daddy told her about when HE hit his head and needed stitches. I told her about my accident prone brother. Her daddy and uncle are both fine. But it did not slick her discomfort.






In desperation, I pleaded with God to help me find a way to comfort her. Admittedly, I wanted that particular brand of innocence restored so that she could continue being a dreamy little bride-worshiper who played with baby dolls and dreamed about becoming a mommy. But I really just wanted her to feel better.






When Lilly was just two years old and already in love with the idea of getting married, my mother sent her a book entitled "On Your Wedding Day" about a dad who is telling his daughter about when she gets married. It's adorable. And Lilly chose this for her bedtime story the night after the one spent crying on the bathroom floor. When the book reached the point about being married in the temple, Lilly's eye lit up for a moment and said "That's where I'm going to get married!!!" and then she threw in "But I'm not going to have kids."






Tears immediately swelled in her eyes and she started sobbing. Once more, I pulled her onto my lap and said "Lilly, it's not your fault."






She wiped her big old eyes with the back of her small hand, and sniffed "I should have told her No NO!"






My jaw dropped. I knew she blamed herself. But at that instant, hearing my precious four year old admit what weight she had been lugging around on her poor little heart for almost a month and a half almost made my own heart break. My answer was simple. "Lilly, you should have done no such thing. It was NOT your responsibility to watch your sister. This whole thing was an accident. It wasn't your fault, and it wasn't mommy's fault." (I know. I sometimes drive myself crazy with all the talking in 3rd person too, but it's just what we do to kids.) And so I continued. "Mommy made a mistake. I didn't know that she could get hurt, and I put the television on the dresser. I shouldn't have. Now, instead of worrying about your children, what you need to do is just not-" and she interrupted me with a HUGE grin on her face.






"I KNOW! When I have my 10 kids, I will just not put the tv on the dresser, and all the dress up clothes can go on the floor instead of in the drawers! I won't even have a tv up there!" I just smiled at her. Then she tapped her lips and said thoughtfully, "I should have thought about that yesterday before I whined to dad."






We finished her book about getting married, made more plans about the decor of her reception, and the way her wedding ring would look, and then she went to bed without any more tears. For the next few days, though, whenever she mentioned her future, which was often, she said "when I have 1o kids and no dresser or tv...." - and believe me, this isn't something Lilly will ever forget.






They say time heals all wounds. But does it really? Lilly feels better. Her heart is whole. Her dreams are favorable now. But is she healed? She still screeches at me to PULL OVER MOMMY!!! whenever she hears an ambulance siren. She still tattles on Scarlet's every move that takes her feet off the floor. Either she's learned something from it, or she's going to be the most repressive, over protective mother this world has ever seen.






Still, I guess that's just what comes with being wiser than your years. You learn things quickly. You notice things that make you sad. And yet, my smarty pants little girl can still be a smart mouth. Just yesterday, while I was folding laundry, Lilly was lounging across a basket full of towels still warm from the dryer, and she asked me "Mommy, did you pick me?" I answered "You bet I did. And I picked Scarlet and Mahone too!" She thought for a minute and then said "Yeah...but WE just pick our noses."








Tuesday, October 19, 2010

The Blue Beetle, Wordless Wednesday

Please stop on by http://www.5minutesformom.com/ to link up your photos for wordless Wednesday!



My husband, who is so very infinitely a geek, and, yes, I find that completely adorable MOST of the time, would love nothing more than to BE Harry Dresden from the book series The Dresden Files- a very powerful and talented wizard who works independently as a consultant for the police department and solves magical crimes. He also drives a blue beetle. Brandon bought one. It does not suit our family's needs...and I'm making him sell it, much to his chagrin and that kind of breaks my heart.


If you're interested, let me know. It really IS stinking adorable. And it runs well.













***FOR THE RECORD, because I'm actually quite surprised at the several private emails I've gotten just this morning telling me how I'm a selfish witch of a wife to make my husband sell something he loves so much, just going along with the assumption that it really is something I owe an explanation about, I have to explain that it really isn't about that. LOL.
Brandon's car (a black Neon) broke down beyond repair in January of last year. He looked for a car, bought this one without discussing it with me or my dad, who is a skilled mechanic, among many other things. It cost 5000.00 because it's rebuilt and is a classic.
About 7 break downs later, and late nights spent waking my children, driving an hour to his work to pick him up in the middle of the night (he works until midnight each night) or begging rides and tows off friends, and one night that Brandon spent pushing his car down the freeway because he knew it would seriously piss me off to no end knowing that it happened AGAIN. It spent hours and days and lots of money in the shop for problems. And all of this in 3 months. Not to mention, we are about to have our 4th child and even if we could FIT carseats in the back of it, there are NO SEATBELTS. Yes I have a minivan. It doesn't mean I'm the only person who ever needs to take a child somewhere. It doesn't mean that occasionally I need to take half the kids while he needs to take the others somewhere.
In March, I made him buy a new car because the blue beetle he loved so much was just unreliable. And being pregnant and with 3 kids at home who need peace of mind and sleep at night, I told him he needed something we could rely on. He agreed completely and bought a Taurus for 800.00 that, while it won't fit all 4 of our eventual children, it WILL fit the 3 we have safely and comfortably. It was used as a high school drivers education car and so was maintained meticulously. It works.
In the mean time, for the last several months, my dad, the genious mechanic that he is, spent quite some time with my husband, fixing all of it's problems. It's still old, it still rattles, but it runs, amd well. And we just can't afford to have a car sitting in our driveway, no matter how loved or adorable, for the rest of forever, or until it's something that is right for our family.
It's not about being a jerk, or a selfish wife who doesn't ever indulge in my husband's hobbies or likes. It's about my children, our family, and what we need at the moment.
Anyway, I didn't really think that it'd sell by posting it here on my blog. Just thought I'd post about it because it pertains to my life. And that's what my blog is about.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Touchy Topic Tuesday: Parenting Magazine- Posing naked to pay for child's college.

To my dear friends, and all who are popping in for the first time-
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Touchy Topic Tuesday:
Parenting Magazine's August Issue Mom Debate:
"Would you pose naked for a magazine or website if it would pay for your child's college education?"

I LOVE magazines. Well, to be specific, I love catalogs. I like to look at pages and pages of adorable and expensive home decor, children's clothing, and Victoria Secret lingerie. I love Martha Stewart's magazine, and wishing I had time and money to spend pruning roses, arranging them and then use them to spruce up a table meant for an elegant party with wonderful foods and desserts that I prepared myself. Particularly when that party might be for a spooky, yet adorably tasteful Halloween bash, or a lavish Christmas dinner where everyone dresses formally. I could dress my children in something precious from Boden.

I like Better Homes and Gardens, and Country Living. How delicious, or spacious and just so beautifully quaint. My mom subscribes to them all, and I usually end up bringing them home with me in boxes once she is done with them.

My husband subscribes to National Geographic, which we pour over each month, always interested in whatever articles they may have. Debates always follow, and, of course, we always feel a bit smarter afterwords.

I do NOT, however, love- or even like, for that matter- parenting magazines.

Child, Parenthood, Baby, Parenting, etc. Those magazines have even more of an ability to make me feel awful about myself as a person, a parent and an adult than any teen magazine ever did, and even more so than walking through a Victoria Secret store while 9 months pregnant, too large to fit even into my own maternity clothes, therefore, sporting my husbands pajama pants and a 6 year old Air Force t-shirt.

I HATE being told what to do or how I'm doing it wrong and what I SHOULD be doing when it comes to parenting. And I sometimes get severely irritated by letters to the editor and/or some of the poll results from the questions they pose each month.

So, the solution is easy, right? Don't subscribe.

Yeah, I don't.

EXCEPT that earlier in my pregnancy, I happened to buy a shirt and pair of pants from A Pea In the Pod, and my purchase came with a free one year subscription to Parenting magazine.

I didn't think much of it, figured I'd flip through and then throw them out, maybe rip out a page of recipes here or there, which, for the most part, is how the process has gone.

In the August issue, however, I came across something that I found pretty severely shocking to me.

As mentioned above, in every issue there is a question posed, and you can vote and leave comments online, and they publish the results in the next month's issue.

In August, the results were for the question: Would you pose naked for a magazine or website if it would pay for your child's college education?

The question wasn't shocking. Not even the results. Okay- I'm lying. The results WERE shocking to me, as 53% of women who answered said....YES!!!!!! 47% obviously said No. And what's shocking about that was that MORE THAN HALF of the women who answered, which, in some degree, represents mothers as a collective entity, apparently have no morals.

Yes, I realize that's a blatant and forward statement. I do not feel that posing naked for pictures that are to be published for public view is in any way moral or admirable. IN ANY DEGREE. I don't care if it pays for a cure for cancer. There is absolutely no reason that a woman should have the feeling that demeaning her body by allowing a world full of men and or/women to ogle, discuss, masturbate to, or otherwise demoralize her body. It has absolutely NOTHING to do with a woman being comfortable in her skin, or feeling beautiful, or good enough. It has to do with morals- or better yet, the lack thereof.

PerHAPS I might understand a little more, if not agree with, the majority being FOR the option if the rhetorical situation had to do with a mother's starving children or something else that otherwise played on the emotions. But, a college education?

Well, maybe it's because my husband and I paid our own ways through college with grants, loans and military service, while working full time or multiple jobs, but I don't really have any sympathy for kids who whine about their parents who won't pay for college. And I don't have any empathy for parents who feel like they're failures because they can't support their own lives as well as their college student.

When I plan to have a baby, while I take into consideration how much money it will cost to HAVE the squishy little thing- hospital, doctors visit, etc.- as well as how much food will cost when the baby eventually joins us at the table, clothing, toys, and so on, a college education is not something I plan on providing for my children. (But that is a debate for another time, and for the record, I am, by no means, saying that college is not important.)

No, the most shocking part of this poll were the answers on the "for" side of it:

"What's a one time public embarrassment compared to my child's future? (BTW,that's saying a lot coming from me because I don't even like my husband seeing me naked.)"


My opinion: HOW would you be comfortable showing your body to a world full of men who have ZERO respect for you when you can't even let your husband, who loves you enough to be WITH you and be MARRIED to you, to have CHILDREN with you, see your body?

Are you aware that this would not be a one time embarrassment? Magazines will be kept for a good long time by some people. Online sites keep anything that makes money. You could be around a long time on one of those. And if you did that, forget ever becoming a school teacher or police officer or any other number of jobs. Those kinds of things are the types that are researched and found when background checks are made. Your child, in possible actuality, might be very able to find you there, so obviously exposed to the world, on his/her own.

Also, I have to wonder if the mother that posted this has a very young child at the moment. I think that she might be basing this opinion on her child being very little, because if she did it now, she thinks it would just go away, and she'd have money for her baby's college, far in the future...but, exactly how do you think her child might feel, being a tween, or teen or even IN college at the time, having a mother that poses nude for a magazine. I think that some mothers might hope or even be sure that their child would be proud of her, and thankful. I think, in actuality, that the child of an exposed mother would just feel very exposed his/herself.

"I would do it because I never even got a high school education and i know that I can't afford to send my kids to college. I want them to have an easier time in this world than I did. A real parent would sacrifice anything for her children, including her own self-respect and dignity, and would teach her kids to think the same way when it comes to their own children."


My Opinion: This answer is the one that probably ticked me off the most. First of all, if you didn't get a high school education, I feel that it explains a lot about this idiot response. A person who has children and has the self motivation, guts, self discipline, and self respect, to go BACK to school, get a high school diploma or college degree is going to set a better example and gain more respect from her children, and influence their decisions to finish high school and go to college than a mother who takes her clothes off for money- even if that money is for them.

Every parent wants their child to have a better life than theirs was. But I'm not sure that giving them an "easier" life is the way to go about it. The entitled-ness of some of the teenagers I teach at my church is ridiculous sometimes, and I think making them work for something is a good idea. Even if that means college. Yeah. It's expensive. So what. There are ways to get through it.

You say "A real parent would sacrifice anything for her children, even her own self respect...."...riiiiight. A REAL parent, huh? I don't think anyone needs to tell me or any OTHER "real" parent about sacrifice. We all do things every single day that we don't like doing. We give up careers, friends, financial stability, cute sports cars, our perky breasts, tight buts, flat tummies and narrow hips. Most of us find this sacrifice rewarding in the long run. But if you want to talk about sacrifice, let's go back to my first paragraph in this response to you: Go back to school YOURSELF. GAIN some self respect as opposed to sacrificing it. Sacrificing self respect is NOT a sacrifice. It's not admirable. It's martyrdom and completely abhorrent. I want my children to respect me, not be disappointed in me. I want them to see me and be proud of me, not remember my naked body out there for all to see. I want my children to know that i worked hard for them, that I did my very best to be an example to them and be the kind of person i want them to be. I wouldn't want them to take the easy way out. So I can't do that either. Posing naked to pay for college isn't something I want my daughters to do. How I can I send that message to them if it's something that I am willing to do? I suggest that you reevaluate your definition of a "REAL" parent.

"I would do anything for my son, and would love to show the world what a real woman looks like! Maybe my stretch marks would make girls think twice about premarital sex too- lol."


My Opinion: My suggestion is that you go work for Dove and their "Real women, real beauty" campaign. They don't make you take your clothes off, at least not in a sexual way. And your stretch marks will be welcome there. I wouldn't feel ashamed for my son or daughter to see me on a Dove commercial, but opening up a website where I stood there in my skin, or lay across a centerfold would be off limits in my home. I'm pretty sure that the world knows what a real woman looks like...and for the most part, that's why they look at porn sites. Because they're not real women. They're painted and edited and the lighting is adjusted accordingly. The world sees real women every day. And women who pose naked and allow themselves to be changed (because Playboy would not let a PERFECT woman pose without airbrushing her) are perpetuating the tolerance that the world has for the lies you think you could single handedly change.

Furthermore, whoever would agree that teenage girls seeing stretchmarks would keep them from having premarital sex is lying to themselves. Or they're insanely naive. It's like how, in health class in 10th grade, they showed us a video of a birth, and two or three of the boys fainted. Did it stop us from having sex? Well- I didn't have sex, but that was a moral and religious reason, not because I saw a baby pushed out a vagina with all the gore that that implies. But no, it didn't stop "us". If that were so effective, it wouldn't just stop teens, it would stop women from EVER having children. You don't just suddenly get over the fear of stretch marks and labor pains when you grow up and get married. That's just a really stupid theory.

Anyway, as it stands, it's pretty obvious that I would never in a million years pose for a magazine, or website or anything naked in the name of my child. (Or anything else for that matter.) And I'm not exactly a prude. I AM religious, and i believe in personal modesty. I believe in self respect, and I believe that public nudity is demeaning, irresponsible, and just all around a bad example. I don't believe that any good can come of it. I am comfortable in my skin. I feel I'm a very pretty girl, with curves, and battle scars (stretch marks) that I'm insanely proud of. I don't cover my body in thick sweaters all year long, or worry about putting on a swimming suit. But I feel that I am worth, and my children deserve, more than sexual exploitation.

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PLEASE contribute to today's Touchy Topic Tuesday and let us know where YOU stand on this topic and why!


Remember, differing opinions are allowed, encouraged, and respected, but personal attacks, foul language, and otherwise mean comments will not be tolerated, and will be deleted immediately.

Thanks!!!

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Feel Good Friday and Letters of Intent





You know the drill friends! Click the button and hop on over to link up and tell us what's making you HAPPY!!!




1. Remember the wings I wrote about last week??? All of them are shipped off and delivered! And so far, everyone who has received them LOVES them, which makes me happy because I get pretty nervous about whether or not they will be exactly what they were picturing.





2. Our house is no longer a sick house. We have all stopped puking, and I have sanitized everything, and it is safe for you to come over now without catching our illness.





3. I am so excited because on Saturday, Brandon and I get to go to a Murder Mystery dinner that is hosted every year (3rd annual!!!) by our dear friends. It's going to be awesome!!




4. Pumpkin. I think I mentioned this last week. But I'm still happy about it.




Pumpkin muffins with cream cheese frosting and pecans...ooooooh.


Scarlet chewing on a big bite of my pumpkin butterscotch chip cookies. Ooooooh again.




5. UEA weekend. Brandon doesn't get any time off for this, but it's great. I mean, he gets school off, which means he's home in the morning, but he still has to go to work. But Lilly and Mahone both being out of school means that I didn't have to drive anywhere, nor did I make them read to me or do homework. We sat in our jammies all day, watched tv, ate cereal for 2 meals and were otherwise big fat slobs. It was fun. And we're doing it again tomorrow. Hey- don't judge me. I'm a very busy woman every other day of the week.



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Foursons



Come on friends- you KNOW you have a letter to write to someone. Lets see it!




Dear Molly,








I love your stinkin' guts.


And when I say stinkin', I mean STINKIN'. You are THE smelliest dog ON.THE.PLANET.


Honestly, you've heard of that book Walter the Farting Dog? Well, he's got nothing on you.
Here I sit, blogging away, and you, like the loyal, good girl you are, are sleeping under my chair, just snoring away...and while the gas you pass is silent, it's seriously deadly.
Never in my life have I ever smelled anything quite so putrid as your broken wind.
All my dog owning friends have told me not to let you eat anything but dog food. But you are not allowed to beg, and you are not given table scraps.
They say not to give you too many treats. But your treats are only Milk Bones, and if you're lucky, you get 2 a day.
It must be the raw hides you eat constantly.
Unfortunately, it's either the raw hides or our shoes. So, if it makes you happy and keeps your puppies-chew-because-that's-what-they-do-ness at bay.....well, then, I guess I'm going to have to learn to deal with it....and maybe God will bless me with a head cold.
Lovingly,
Point your rear end THAT way.
P.S. Don't think I didn't notice the muddy footprints on my white upholstered chair. I know it was you. Hunter knows better. You're lucky it's from IKEA, and washable.
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Dear Utah Drivers,
(Yes, I felt that if I didn't include a letter to Utah drivers that I would be betraying you all somehow. LOL.)
Roundabouts are NOT the same thing as four way stops.
The End, Love Braeleigh.
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Dear Camy,
I love you. You are an inspiration. Thanks for kicking my butt into gear. You give me far too much credit.
Love you forever,
Braeleigh

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Mahone-isms

When Mahone was 1, I used to put his hair in a faux-hawk. I called him Stud-muffin. So, if he wanted a faux-hawk, he'd bring me the gel and say "Dud-miffin!"
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Once, at age 1, he put on Lilly's fairy wings and said "Mommy, I a bug!"
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When we moved from Alabama to Utah, we drove through Texas and Arizona to get back to Utah where we were moving. Mahone was so excited when the mountains started to appear that in the back seat, he started shrieking "Big rocks! Big Rocks!!! BIG BIG ROCKS!!!!"
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When he was 2, he said his name was "Hone Fraphael" (Mahone Raphael)
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The day before Thanksgiving when Mahone was 2, we asked him what he was thankful for. His answer was "Thanksgiving, and rockets and snuggles."
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At age 2, we were at my mom's and she had lost her voice. Mahone said "You need new batteries, Ammah? I don't have batteries in MY mouth."
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Mahone went through a phase where he wouldn't answer to anything except for "Jack the pumpkin king" (Nightmare Before Christmas) and he also loved astronauts. So, once, he told us that he was "Jack Astronaut. (Say that outloud and TRY not to laugh.)
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In March of '09, I asked Mahone how he and I were the same. He said "We both have bones"
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Mahone LOVES Star Wars. When he was 3, he was being particularly naughty. I asked him what was up and he said "I'm just acting like Dark Vadar!!!"
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Once, Mahone's dad was pretending to be the emperor from Star Wars and was tickling him with his "force lightning" and Mahone said "Dad, am I a jedi like my father before me?"
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On October 4, 2009, Mahone said his bedtime prayer by himself. It went like this: "Heavenly Father, I'm thankful for this day. I'm thankful for my family and my closet and astronauts and worms. Please help me to be nice to my mom, but not nice to bad guys. I 'save' these things in the a name of jesus christ amen."
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Once, in the car, Lilly and Mahone were fighting about something and Mahone cried out "MOM! Lilly's being an antagonist again!"
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In September of 2010, Mahone was watching Currious George on Tv. When it came on, Mahone got excited and screamed "GEorge the Ape!" (who he previously called George the Monkey) and I asked why he was an Ape and Mahone said "He can't be a monkey mom- he doesn't have a tail!"
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Once, the bishop came into the primary to announce the month's theme and he said "Is everyone happy to be here?" Everyone but Mahone said "Yes"- his voice was loud and clear and he said "No- I'm not!" Then, the bishop showed a picture of the earth and Jesus was above it. Mahone said "Jesus lives above the earth in the sky and I want to live with him someday...so I'll need to get a rocket pack."
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We met my cousin David for the first time in the spring of '10, and he asked Mahone's name. He said "Superman." and my cousin said "No, your REAL name." And Mahone said "Clark Kent."
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Mahone was watching Star Wars with his dad, and the part where Jabba the Hut makes Leia a slave came on. He said "I like Leia best when she is not dressed modest." Brandon, trying to enforce our beliefs on modesty said "But she's ALSO pretty when she IS modest." Mahone said "No. No she's not. I like the things she puts on her things."
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Mahone: Mom, do you know Utah is an island?
Me: Uh...no....
Mahone: Yeah- because of the Salt Lake. people came here on boats, but got lost and went the wrong way. So now, we have Tooele.

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Mahone to Scarlet: "Keep ASKING dad until he agrees!!!"


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Mahone was wiggling around all over the place, and I asked him what he was doing. His answer: "I'm trying to make my body become even more fantastic."

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(After going pee) "Our bodies take water and turn it into gold!"

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It's Thanksgiving time. Have you heard about the sugar plums and the indians?

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I am a child of God, and so my knees are gray....

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Mom, do you want me to sing every song I know right now?

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(At Kindergarten tea where he was wearing a nametag on his superman shirt) Why is everyone calling me Mahone? Can't they see I'm super man?!

Haikus, take 2

This is a repeat. I admit it. I am being lazy today (Okay- I'm not being lazy. Brandon and I have been throwing up all morning, Scarlet was throwing up last night, and Lilly was sick on Monday. I'm just WAITING for Mahone to catch it. I have to get 3 pairs of wings ready for shipping tomorrow and finish a large pair of wings for delivery tomorrow, and cut out about 200 business cards to deliver with said pair of huge wings. I'm not lazy, I'm sick and out of time.) and I was looking into the deep banks of my past posts, and I found this one.
It's from a writer's prompt from www.mamakatslosinit.com back in March, which is something I normally participate in on Thursdays anyway, so I thought it was appropriate. I can't write today, but I still wanted to put something up.
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Haikus about my favorite part of the day.

p.s. Dear babies- even though you don't read this, I have to say it: I know I'm cranky right now. I know that sometimes it seems like I tolerate you instead of enjoy you. But I wouldn't trade a single stressed out moment for a lifetime of money, ease, fame, or things. I love you. YOU are my favorite part of EVERY day. (OMG. My hormones are out of control. I'm going to bawl my eyes out writing this.)


breakfast table, cool.
giggles, berries, sugar, prayers.
"Mommy?" "Hmm?" "Love you!"



On the road, buckled.
"Want to hear a story mom?
It is about me."


Little fist on door.
"Mommy! I waked up!" cheeks hot
Grin, with nap time gone.


Still breath on pillows,
Footie jammies keep toes warm.
Finally, my time.






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