A confession...

I am a selfish blogger. Yes, that's right. For the last month I have written a few blogs and read about the same. Thank you so much for those who come and read and post your comments. It means a lot to me.

I have been so busy this last month that I haven't had the time to read all of yours. And I really want to! I hear everyone comment about how wonderful they are and I'm jealous. Jealous that I've missed out....jealous that I can't write like that! I've been so busy my life has felt chaotic and stressed and even when took time to breathe I couldn't get my mind to focus. I have been concentrating on all the things I need to get done, and very little on anything (or anyone else). I've been selfish and self-absorbed.

BUT, I have been slowing my business down. My family needs me more. I have 4 more classes to teach and I then I'm pretty much done (with the exception of one birth in June and one in September!). I can just be me! I can concentrate on my kids and my church calling and just enjoy life. I'm looking forward to it. I've joined a group of women that go walking 3 times a week, which gives me time to clear my head and calm my thoughts down a bit. It also means that when I take time out for myself (ie. naptime!), I will be heading straight here! And reading....reading....reading.....I can't wait to catch up with all of you and see what's been going on outside of my own little world that I have been so wrapped up in.

A Thank You note

My Kindergartner wrote her first Thank You note today....all by herself. She was really worried to send it becuase she knows that not everything is spelled perfectly, but I told her it would be more special if they knew she did it by herself.

I just have to brag a little, because it's pretty darn cute!


Thakc Q for what youv dun.
I love your presis
To: Kafaleen (btw, Kafaleen is what her younger sister calls Kathleen, lol)



Oh, and Megan doesn't spell yet, but her funny for the day was yelling up the stairs,
"Mooooooooooooommmmmmmm, Emilee says I'm a tattle tell!" lol

What's that called again?

My oldest daugther (I know, I know....about 1/2 my posts start this way....what can I say, she's a hoot!) has been learning about money. She knows her quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies. She understands how money works. Which just made tonights discussion that much more entertaining.


Emilee: Mom, what's that dollar called....the one that has a 5 on it instead of a one...the dollar that is worth 5 dollars?

Me: Um, a five-dollar bill?

Emilee: (slaps her forhead) Ugh....that's right. I can NEVER remember that. They should make them six-dollar bills. Those would be easier to remember.

A Victorious Birth

I got a call on Friday evening from a first time mom, "M". She thought that her water might have broken. She called her Midwife "A" and indeed her water had broken but her cervix was still long and closed. "M" tried to get some sleep that night, although contractions had started a bit. By the am, "M" was about 3cm dilated. We headed into the birth center at around 10am. By now she was 4cm. At noon she was 5cm and her contractions were still pretty short and soft. "A" gave her some homeopathic to help her contract and dilate a bit more. Things really picked up then and by a little after 1pm (yes, just one hour) she was almost complete! She just had this rim of cervix left.
For about an hour she sort of pushed, but not really. lol. Her body didn't really feel much like pushing so we just sort of waited for that cervical lip to go away. Baby was REALLY low. Well, the lip just wasn't budging. Midwife "A" tried to help it out a bit, but that really hurt M so we waited it out a bit more. Around 2:30 "M" had really started to push in ernest. That lip was still there though. It would slide partway around baby's head when mom pushed but flip right back over when mom stopped. Midwife A tried holding it back through several pushes to get baby past. Baby finally got through. M worked really hard. SHe was pushing so well but baby just wasn't moving much. It became apparant that baby did not have it's head tucked. Babies normall tuck their chins in, so that the crown of the head (the smallest part) comes through. Instead this baby was trying to come out with it's head straight up...so that the widest part of the head (from back to front) was trying to fit through that pelvis. Needless to say this was NOT an easy task.

I learned a LOT of new pushing positions that day! She was: in the tub, on her side, on her back, on the toilet, hanging between me and her husband's legs (on leg on each of our knees with her butt to the floor....think supported squat), on her tummy with a swimming ring under her belly. This last position seemed to do the trick. Each contractions she'd rear back up on hands (like a child's pose in yoga) and baby would really move. Baby still hard a hard time fitting the back of it's head past her pelvic bone though. I got to feel though! At one point Midwife A said to me, "Get a glove on and come feel this!" It was really cool! I could feel baby come through the pelvis and then slide back during pushes.

Mom, meanwhile, was doing awesome! She had a few moments where she would cry and ask what she was doing wrong. But if we talked to her, her intense eyes would just stare at us and she'd just focus on us talking. I told her husband to make her look at him if she was loosing control and to just talk to her. He did and she would stare at him, just so depending on his love and support, and he cried and told her how beautiful she was and that he was there for her. It was the most special moment. I had to look away because I felt like I was intruding on a very intimate moment.

Around 4:15, Midwife A was able to actually reach her fingers in and grab baby by the back of the skull and tuck its head (since baby was being so darn stubborn!). Once that happened, baby finally slid out to a crowning position. There was a little corkscrew of curly hair coming out of the top of its head. I got a really good picture of that!

Baby Girl "E" was born at 4:30, weighing 8lbs 7oz! She had a head full of hair and was one of the mellowist babies I've ever seen. She screamed a bit at first, but after a minute or two calmed down and I didn't hear another cry from her the entire time I was there (for another two hours). She just looked around and stared and Daddy and Mommy. Daddy and Mommy cried....actually sobbed uncontrollably for about 10 minutes. They were so overjoyed. We let in a room full of family that had been waiting outside the room eagerly.

The Midwife later said that she knows without a doubt that had "M" been at a hospital she would have had a C-section. Hospitals don't really seem very keen on all the position changes. (I've had several Dr's tell me there's no difference between laying on the bed in stirrups and any other position!). Midwife A described this birth as a "Victorious" birth....and she's right! It wasn't easy....it wasn't even "normal", but it was beautiful and mom worked so hard. It was an amazing birth to witness.

I can't wait to go and see that family for our follow up visit!

What a nice day

The funeral was wonderful. Originally, I wasn't going to take my kids, but in the end thought that perhaps it might actually be helpful. My oldest daughter has some SERIOUS concerns with death. Where she got them, I'll never know as we haven't had to deal with death before. But for the last 2 years or so we've had hours and hours of conversations about it. I've used every analogy, every way of explaining it that is possible and it still comes up quite often. So at first, taking her to a funeral was out of the question. Then we began to think that perhaps this would give her what she needed. You see, she's a very concrete thinker. She can't visualize things and that bothers her. So when we talk about death in the abstract, she just doesn't understand. We thought that perhaps SEEING it, would be helpful. Of course, we were still worried that we would tramatize her for life. In the end she came, along with her younger sister. I prepared them as best as I could and they wanted to go into the Relief Society room where there was an open casket.

I personally had no desire to see my grandfather's body, but that is where grandmother was and I wanted to see her. We went in and the kids did spectacular. I had a minor meltdown in preparation to enter the room, but being in there was not what I expected. It's so obvious that grandpa was not there....that his body was not "him". There was a certain detachment from it because I knew where my grandfather really was. I think my girls could see the same thing and something must have "clicked" with Emilee, because she had only 1 or 2 questions and that was it! (Normally, we talk about death for 2 hours at a time and she can't stop worrying and discussing it). This time, it was "So can he breathe?"

"No, his body doesn't need to breathe. He is in heaven so he doesn't need his body anymore"

"Oh, ok." And she hasn't brought it up since.


Every single grandchild showed up to his funeral. Every. Single. One. I don't know how many there are, but I believe it is around 17 or something. All in all, there were 50 family members there for the family prayer beforehand. I'm not sure how many people were at the funeral total, but there were many people there, in fact, the entire chapel was filled. It was difficult to watch my grandmother kiss him goodbye and tenderly lay an afgan over him. Megan watched and said, "Oh, that's cute."

We all wore pilot's wings. At the very beginning, all of the great-grandchildren got up and sang I am a Child of God. What a perfect tribute to the patriarch of our family! His daughters spoke first. Linda, his oldest, got up and told everyone that were were here to celebrate Grandpa's graduation! My Aunt Jan had become ill that day and was not able to make it. My mother talked read her part, including a beautiful poem my grandfather had written about my grandmother just a couple of years before and mom also spoke about some fond memories she had. I was asked to read the memories I'd written down (my last blog entry). When I finished with "Here lies the shell, the nut is gone" I saw most of my cousins smiling and nodding as I know they had all made the same promise to grandpa.
My cousin Ruth read a poem called High Flight that he has had on his wall for years.

High Flight
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence.
Hov'ring there,I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air. . . .
Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
— John Gillespie Magee, Jr
His favorite song, Ava Maria, was played. Then my cousin Matt spoke and talked of the eternal nature that we are and of being a reflector for Heavenly Father, (he put it MUCH more elegantly than I ever could...it was really an amazing talk). It was the perfect ending to his memorial.

We finished up with food...party food at that. Chili Dogs, cookies and Ice cream....etc. We had brightly colored napkins and plates to represent how Grandpa would have wanted us to have a party and be upbeat. Each table had a bowl of M&M's on it....something Grandpa loved. By the end, all of the children (probably close to 20 great grandchildren had been there) were running around the gym playing and having a good time, just as Grandpa would have wanted.

It was not nearly as emotionally exhausting as I thought it would be. I cried, of course, and several times. But at the end of the day, the sun was shining and I thought to myself, "This was a good day."

In Memory Of William Hamilton Hall

When I think back to my childhood memories of my Grandpa Bill, I think of the jokester. Grandpa loved to joke with all of us grandkids. A trip to see him wasn't complete unless he had teased or tricked us in some way. He would call our home, and when I would answer, he would say, "Who's this?"

"It's me, Heather."

"No it's not, this is Grandpa!!!" he would joke.

I thought I would get the best of him and trick him up, so the next time he called and asked "Who is this?" I would reply, "It's Grandpa!" thinking that I was so smart. In schocked disbelief he would gasp, "You're grandpa too? So am I!!!"

My little child's mind would get so flustered when he would call because I knew I couldn't win. He loved to tease. He would tell us that the reason he had a little bit of jiggle under his chin was because his hair had fallen out and down into a sack under his chin. For years I believed that the scar on his head was from a bullet in WWII. He also claimed to have invented anything we were interested in at the moment...cars, dolls, sandwiches, the earth, etc. I can remember him taking walks with me when I would stay at my grandparents and he would take me to Lion's Park and point out the snake holes (at least, I think they were, he might have been pulling my leg then as well!)


Some special things about my grandpa:
1. He baptised me
2. He came to my wedding even though it was difficult for him to make the drive
3. He loved M&M's, particularly the big 2lb bag!
4. He loved B-17 bombers
5. He was an excellent baseball player- he pitched!
6. He grew a gotee last year! He was the best looking grandpa around!

I am blessed to have a bit of his life and story written down for me. He wrote them several years ago and gave them to everyone in the family. I'd like to share some of what he wrote...I'm sharing the parts that make me smile.

"I was told later in life that at birth I was so ugly and wrinkled they nicknamed me "Grandpa". I was transported from floor to floor and room to room to show the patients so they could see this little tiny ugly old man! So for a week the hospital patients were kept laughing and in good spirits by this old ugly baby. This is my only claim to fame.

...One final episode with Matches- Some how one of the matches I had in my pocket jumped out and set the house on fire underneath the back porch. Excitement, Excitement! No need to give details. Let your imagination dictate what happened in the next few days.

High school was next. Even though we were in a deep depression and had little of material things I enjoyed my high school years. I sang in the school Acapella choir, participated in three school operettas, namely: The Deseret Song, Chocolate Soldier and South Od Sonora in which I had a speaking part. In addition I took part in football, basketball and baseball. Baseball was my best sport and I pitched for a semi-pro team in the "Three State League". This was at the age of 16. I was offered a contract with the Chicago white sox farm team for the following year. However, I blew that by pitching too hard and too long in a game which I struck out 18 and one the game 2 to nothing. However showing off to the grandstand at that game ruined my arm and my pitching days were over.

During High school I did go to dances, etc, but never went steady with one girl. At my 50th class reunion one girl I took to a high school dance reminded me of the time I took her to the dance in a hearse. My father was a mortician and the hearse was the only car available.

I always chewed gum like a mad man. One night I was dancing with a young girl I knew and we went swirling pass the front doors which happened to be open to let some fresh air in. It was windy outside and I was talking up a storm and a gust of wind blew a big mass of the girls hair into my mouth and with my chewing and talking I magaged to get a big piece of sticky gum well intagled in her hair. This really made me a nerd.

It was in that dancehall I met my current bride. I did not know how to pick up a girl or ask to take her home. I fumbled around with some nerdy lines, but she rescued me by suggesting I walk her home. (They were married Dec 1st , 1940.....65 years of marriage!!!!)

War clouds were gathering and on Dec 7th, 1941 Japan attacked our naval forces in Pearl Harbor and the war was on. I enlisted in the air force soon after Christmas of 1941 and spent the next 4 years in uniform as an airplane driver. I currently hold a civilan commercial pilots license.

In 1956, our favorite youngest daughter was born (this was my mother. My grandpa had a way of calling everyone his "favorite"....favorite youngest daughter, favorite oldest daugher, favorite granddaughter named Heather...). Since she was supposed to have been a boy we hamed her Billie Ruth.

In conclusion, if I were asked for some advice I would say the following:
1. Be Yourself
2. Don't take yourself too seriously
3. Give more than you take- and I don't mean punches
4. Honor completely your father and mother
5. Be humble about your talents- they were god-given
6. Be honest in your dealing with your fellow man
7. Look to your father in Heaven in all things."



I'm a little nervous to go to the funeral as I've never been to one before but my mother tells me that grandpa has instructed everyone to imagine him standing at the end of his coffin, with his fingers stuck in his ears saying, "nana nana na na!" Good ole' Grandpa!

Grandpa,
I love you so much. I miss you. But I am so happy that you are free and young again and with Heavenly Father and those family members I know you have missed so much over the years. Each time I've seen you over the last several years, you've made me promise to say something when you died. I'm keeping that promise.

There lies the shell, the NUT is gone!

Grandpa Bill 1919-2006

WOW

Has it been two weeks already? My life has been so busy lately. I keep putting my blog on the back burner and thinking "I'll get to in in a couple of days." Obviously that hasn't happened. And it probably won't happen again again for at least a week! I took on WAY to many clients this month and I am working too much.

Last month my oldest told me that I was going to too many "meetings" and that she hated that I was gone so much. I told her that if it really bothered her I would not do as many births. Her eyes widened and she said, "You mean *I* am more important than BIRTHS?!?!"

It was cute, but it broke my heart as well. She should know that; that is not a question I want my children to have. Yes, they are more important to me than my births. I do the births because I love to do them and it is a side of me I get to fulfill other than mommy-mode. I do them becuase they bring in a little extra cash, which we could certainly use. But I am Mommy first right now, not doula. So I'm cutting back.

I still have to fulfil my obligations to the clients I have already scheduled, obviously. So that means I am crazy busy until the end of this month. And then not so much. The summer will just be me and my kids and an occasional birth. Come fall, I will take time off completely for my family for a few months. This will give us all the break we need.

I'll always do births...even if it is just a couple a year...but my family comes first. And you can't ignore a child reaching out for more mommy time, especially if they use those exact words!

So, you won't hear from me again for at least a week. But I haven't forgotten my blog!

Love Note

My oldest daughter wrote me a love note today....on her magna doodle. It reads:

I *heart* U.
I'm shoor I *heart* U.



Awww......I love being a mom.

Funny how inspiration comes.....

Tonight I was getting my beautiful children ready for bed. Those beautiful children delighted in fraying every last nerve in my body tonight. As we sat down to say our nightly Prayers and Scriptures, they continued to hop and dance around, scream and screech and basically just not listen to me. My eyebrows furrowed, my lips pursed and I hissed "STOP IT RIGHT NOW. THAT IS NOT HOW WE PREPARE TO TALK TO HEAVENLY FATHER."
I then opened the scriptures randomly and this is the first scripture I saw. Not "on the first page", but literally the FIRST words my eyes read.

"An hypocrite with his mouth destroyeth his neighbour."

Wow! I grew up all my life hearing stories of people with real life struggles, fasting and praying for answers and opening up the scriptures to reveal the answers. And tonight it happened to me....even if it was just to chastise my hypocritical parenting skills.

So the Seahawks lost...

I do not come from a football family. We never know when it is football season. We rarely know when the Superbowl is coming up. We just don't care. However, this season the Seattle Seahawks made it and this whole area has gone crazy. The evening knews would show Elementary Schools having entire assemblies dedicated to the Seahawks; small preschool children had their faces painted in the team's colors as they waved Seahawk flags. My daughter's school was among the schools hyping the kids up. So my daughter has come home from school, every day for the past two weeks, jabbering about the Seahawks and asking if I can paint her face blue and green for Seahawk's day at school. I don't even think she knows what a football game is, but she's excited.

So Sunday comes and I know that she'll be disappointed if she goes to school in the morning and finds out it was on and she missed out. So I turned the game on, figuring that she would get bored after 10 minutes. Not so! She watched the entire game! And not only did she watch, but she created her own scoreboard and kept score. S was for Seahawks, ST was for Steelers. She drew hearts by the Seahawks to show her support.

She was a little confused about Pittsburgh though. She kept referring to it as another country, and at one point when the Steelers made a touchdown she exclaimed, "Oh those darn Burg people!"

Then came the final minutes of the game. It became obvious we were not going to win and I tried to prepare her for the worst. The clock ticked down and Pittsburgh began to celebrate and Emilee burst into tears. "Our country sucks!" she yelled and then buried her head into the pillow to sob. She also asked if we could move to Pittsburg. She cried herself to sleep that night. Literally.

I guess we have a football fan in our family after all.

Top 10 instructions from the Pre-existance

Inspired by my 19 month old, these are the last minute instructions my babies recieved in the pre-existance before they were born.

10. Do not, under any circumstances, allow your parents wash your face. If they try to do so anyway, scream and arch your back as if they are applying acid.

9. There are 5 main food groups that you must consume every day. Parents are not aware of this so you must beg several hundred times. These include: macaroni & cheese, top ramen, goldfish, fruit snacks and yogurt.

8. "Come here" means "run away as fast as you can". Following this direction will make your parents very happy, even if they do not look like it.

7. Whatever you do, do not allow them to cook in the kitchen alone. Whenever they attempt to cook a meal or do the dishes, cling to them as if you are stuck with superglue.

6. On birthdays, you will receive the best gifts. They are boxes, covered in bright paper and bows. For some reason, parents often put junk inside the boxes, but just throw that stuff to the side and you can enjoy your boxes and wrapping paper for hours!

5. Parents are organizationally challenged. So help them out by moving objects from the places your parents have put them and moving them to where they belong, which is usually in the middle of the floor in another room. At first your parents will be resistant and try to put things back, but as time goes on and other children join your family, they will eventually give in.

4. When you are not getting your way, stick your bottom lip out just so, open your eyes as large as you can and let a single alligator tear roll down your cheek. Works every time.

3. Markers work best on arms, legs and tummies.

2. Diapers are for peeing in, and toilets are for washing dolls.

1. You are equipped with a "intimacy-o-meter". Any time your parents are getting too friendly, your meter will sound and you will be able to spontaneously awaken. For the sake of your own self-preservation, please put your meter to use and scream bloody murder each time your meter goes off. We know it's hard to awaken from a dead sleep, but if you don't something really bad might happen, like a little brother or sister who will steal your toys.

Six Year Old Heartache

The following conversation just took place between me and my Kindergartener. This is only a small snippet of the two hour conversation, but a pretty fair representation.

Emilee: Mom, I don't think Theresa likes me.

Me: Why not?

Emilee: She just doesn't.

Me: Did she say that?

Emilee: No. But she says that I scare her.

Me: Why does she say that?

Emilee: I don't know...she says that I'm a good girl and I scare her. But I don't want to....I'm trying not to. I don't understand. She asked me to be her friend and now she doesn't want to. I just don't have any friends.

Me: What about MiKayla?

Emilee: Well, she likes me TOO much. She's always like "Emilee!!!" and hugging me and stuff.

Me: So you don't like it when they like you TOO much, but you don't like it when they don't like you enough?

Emilee: Yes. I want them to be medium....like Skyla.

Me: Well everyone is different Emilee. What about Casey?

Emilee: Well Theresa told Casey not to be my friend. But I was Friends with Casey for a long time. She was my first friend at school.

Me: Sometimes little girls aren't very nice Emilee. But you don't want them for friends if they are mean. You don't have to be friends with everyone.

Emilee: Theresa said she's going to invite me to her birthday party, but only if I don't bug her. *tears come to her eyes and she hangs her head* I just don't understand friends. I want friends who love me for who I am.
(does that sound like a 6 year old to you?)

Me: *tears in MY eyes now* Emilee, you will have many many friends who love you just the way you are. You are a very special girl and anyone who chooses not to be your friend is missing out on a very very special friend.

Emilee: Mom, why are you crying?

Me: Because I want to be able to protect you from all the mean girls you will meet in school.

Emilee: *eyes perking up* Well, you could go take over their moms!

Me: I don't think so. It doesn't work that way.

Emilee: *wistfully* I just don't understand why someone would ask to be my friend and then not want to be friends with me.


The conversation went on and on like this for quite a while. My heart breaks for my daughter. I remember what friendships were like in school. They sucked! Girls are mean, as a general rule. They are manipulative and did very little for my self-esteem growing up. I tried to share with Emilee that I have known many girls like that as well, but that she will get a few really good friends who will make her happy and be there for her. Emilee is so tenderhearted when it comes to relationships...and she's only 6! Her heart breaks at the thought that someone would not be included or loved. She once had a friend tell her that she would not come to her birthday party if she invited so-and-so. Her jaw literally fell to the ground. She could not imagine that someone would be unaccepting of a perfectly good "friend". In her own words, "Mom, I try really hard to be a really good friend to people...why wouldn't they like me?"

I don't know whose heart aches more.....hers, or mine because I know exactly what is in store for her as learns to grow up.

Let me tell you about my Pelvis

Because I know you are all dying to know!

I've always known I have a relatively easy time birthing babies. Don't get me wrong...I work at it, and I work hard. My labors are relatively "normal" in length. Nothing special there. But the actual get-this-big-thing-out-right-now decent, now that is where I really excel. With my first baby, they told me to start pushing when I was 10cm. Because I was a first time mom and I had an epidural, they laughed at me when I asked if they were calling my Dr. yet. They assured me that it would be a couple of hours. 10 minutes later they were yelling at me to stop pushing until they could get the stuff set up for baby. The on call Dr. came running in throwing her gown and booties on. Since I had an epidural, it was no big deal to stop pushing for 5 or 10 minutes...had I been natural, I'm sure that baby would have been born not 2 minutes after they told me to stop. Not bad for a first timer!

My second child was born after just a few contractions. My third took a little longer (maybe 15 minutes?) because I slowed things down and tried to just breathe so that I wouldn't tear. She also came out with a perfectly round head the minute she was born....no molding what-so-ever. I've included the picture as proof. This picture was taken as Melia was being lifted out of the water as I birthed her....so approximately 10 seconds old! Look at that round head!

Now I know why. I went to a Pelvic Mapping class the other night with a bunch of doulas. We got to map our own pelvises(is that plural of pelvis? Pelvi?). It was quite the site. Since everyone in that room has seen our share of women's most intimate parts, you would think it would have been normal...but it was not. 30 women sitting around, legs contorted as we became way to friendly with ourselves in an attempt to map our pelvic outlet.

Every woman has a different shape. Some women are long and thin, others have a wide and short pelvis. We mapped our pelvis and drew it on a piece of paper. My pelvis was HUGE! A woman's pelvis also has a lot of movement in it during birth so it can change shape and open for baby. In addition, the baby's head can mold and become quite a bit smaller in order to navigate through the pelvis. Let's just say that if both my pelvis and baby's fontenels (plates of the skull) were fused together, we would still have had no problem! Now I know why my babies come flying out at the end! I do have an incredibly curved tailbone, however, which could possibly help account for my intense back labor despite baby's good position.

Lest you get jealous of my cavernous pelvis, and think that all things childbirth related come easy to me, please note that I am in search of some decent boobs, because mine suck (no pun intended) at breastfeeding.

Birthdays Birthdays Everywhere....

Megan's Pirate Ship cake. She helped frost this herself! Emilee did about 1/3 of the red stripes herself and a good portion of the blue area! I weas pretty impressed since it is pretty tedious work doing all of those frosting stars. And yes, this flag has 50 stars!

I'm pretty sure my children think Birthdays are actually Birthweeks. Megan's birthday is on January 12th, and Emilee's birthday is on the 16th. So we tell them happy birthday and mildly celebrate on their actual birthdays and then again with their party. All in all, we end up telling them Happy Birthday all week long! This year we did separate kid parties (neither of which landed on their actual birthdays) and a family dinner out to Azteca as well. So all in all we celebrated birthdays from the 12th until the 21st, and several times in between!

In the past, we've always had their parties together, since they shared a lot of the same friends (or their friends were siblings, etc). Since Emilee started school this year, she has some of her "own" friends so we did separate parties for the first time. Megan's party was first and was a total blast! She combined parties with a good friend that is only 12 hours older than she is (but different birthdays). The girls had a pirate party! It was so fun! They walked the plank, fished for pretzels with their "hooks", made spyglasses, played pin the patch on the pirate, sink the ship and pop the cannonball. Oh, and lets not forget the treasure hunt with a treasure chest pinata at the end! Tons of fun!

Emilee's party as the next weekend. I let her invite 12 of her friends, figuring that probably about half would show up. In fact, 10 showed up and that was only because one child was sick, and the other's parents had written the wrong day on the calendar! So it was crazy at my house, with 11 six year olds running around the house and boy are they loud! Emilee wanted an "American Flag" birthday so that's what we did. It was very unstructured, but that seemed to work best for those kids. They would have had fun just running around on their own for the entire time if I had let them! We had USA rhinestone tatoos, did an art project and played a couple of games. One game went well and one sank like a rock. The art project was great though! With how flighty the kids were during the second game I was worried they would be wandering, but every single one sat at the table for a good 20 minutes completely entertained. They also cracked jokes. "Hey, I'm a kid....so I'm in KIDnergarten" and then the entire table would erupt into shrieks...and I truly mean shrieks...of laughter. Then the next child would carry the joke on from there. "I'm a girl, so I'm in GIRLgarten" *more shrieks of laughter*. They continued with this until they had gone around the table about 3 times, each joke making less and less sense. "Hey, I'm American Flag, so I'm in American Flag garten." *more endless shrieks of laughter*.

Emilee made out with presents this year. Her oddest gift? She recieved a Bratz doll. You know how Barbies come with extra shoes sometimes? Well this Bratz doll came with extra feet!!!!! An extra pair of feet in different sandles came in the box. You just pop her old feet off and pop the new ones on. That's a little disturbing in my opinion.

One room down...

5 more to go....plus a few other areas! I have been bitten by the Spring Cleaning Bug! My house has slowly spiraled out of control over the last few months. It's gotten so out of control, that I gave up a few weeks ago and just quite worrying about it, which only increased my stress level as I can't stand living in filth! There are piles upon piles upon piles of things that need to be dealth with. Part of my problem is organization; many of the things simply have no place to go. Our lives are so hectic, all I have time to do is fret about what I don't have time to do. BUT, I have a relatively slow week so I have begun to plug away!

Another reason, aside from just wanting an organized home, is that our kids have been sick....alot! I think they have spent as much time WITH coughs and colds as they have without. It's been mostly this past year, which happens to coincide with moving to this new house. We both feel this has something to do with it. One thing we have noticed is that this house creates dust like you would not believe! I have never had dust like this. Melia dropped her binky under her crib the other night and as I crawled underneath to get it, I saw literally 2 inches (I am NOT exaggerating) of dust under there. It hasn't been THAT long since I swept under there last. No wonder she's getting sick if she's breathing that stuff in all night! We are seriously considering getting a HEPA filter for our home. James and I are both highly allergic to dust (I haven't stopped sneezing all day since cleaning). We also may get our air ducts cleaned out. Unfortunately both of those things cost hundred's of dollars. So until then, cleaning and cleaning and cleaning is my only option.

So my first order of business was to clean their room. I did a deep, deep clean, as in a move-all-the-furniture,hands-and-knees clean.

I'm happy to say that their bedroom is now spotless.

I am unhappy to say that our hallway is now filled with 3 boxes of old clothes that I need to sort through and put out in the garage, as well as an assortment of odds and ends, that again, do not have a place to go until I clean a couple of other rooms.

Now, the true question is......how many other rooms will I be able to clean before this first one dirty again?

My streak is over! (and a birth story)

Actually, two streaks have ended for me recently. The first streak, unfortunately, was our healthy streak. James and I had the stomach flu last week (and I'm not talking your garden variety stomach flu; I'm talking the someone-please-kill-me-now stomach flu). We were greatful that our kids did not get it, although this week we're dealing with 104 degree fevers, earaches, hacking coughs, tummy aches and lots and lots of snot. It was nice while it lasted.

The second streak is one that I've been waiting to end and it has! My string of long difficult births! I went to the best birth on Thursday. She is a wonderful sweet Russian woman, "M". It's a true miracle she hired a doula, because her husband happened to be very ill that day with a high fever and really bad flu so he stayed home! I was the only one there for her at the hospital. Her last experience was really awful. She had a few interventions and an epidural that left her bedridden for days with a horrible spinal headache. Not wanting to experience that again, she was looking forward to an unmedicated birth. M's water broke at 8am and she called me minutes later to ask me about it (she wasn't sure). An hour later, her contractions had picked up intensity. I arrived at her place a little after 11 and she wanted to go in. We arrived and she was 3-4 cm. The first nurse we were assigned to was HORRID! I'm trying to tell myself that perhaps she was just having a bad day, but she was just awful! She was short (in temperment, not just stature), and tried to scare my client into making different decisions than she had planned on. She came in and told her she "had" to have a heplock because in an emergency her veins might collapse and they wouldn't be able to help her. M kept holding her ground saying she hadn't wanted an IV and the nurse kept telling her it wasn't (and I know it's not, but no one wants a catheter stuck in their arm when they're trying to get comfortable!). M finally gave in and when the nurse left the room and quietly reminded her that she didn't "have" to have a heplock unless that was something she wanted. She assured me that she did NOT want one and decided to tell the nurse so when she came back in. The nurse came wheeling the IV tray in the room and M politely told her that she did not want one, that she had already discussed this with her Dr. and her Dr. had said that was perfectly fine with him. Nurse Nazi replied, "Well, your Dr.s not here today!" But M held her ground.

M was doing so well, but the nurse kept making her lay on the bed to get monitored. You don't have to be on the bed, those things work standing up, but it can take some creativity, and obviously creativity was not something that nurse was willing to try. She flat out refused when M asked over and over to stand up. M was too nice to smack her. The nurse checked her again at 2pm and she was still 3-4 cm. Then I had to leave to make a quick phone call. I found out afterwards then when I left, M had asked the nurse to hold her hand through a contraction (remember, no one else was with her) and the nurse had replied, "Just breathe." and walked away! That right there left me so angry with her.

But fortunately, her shift was over after we had been there for 3 hours and the world's BEST nurse came in! She was so positive and supportive. When it was time to monitor, she saw that M was comfortable in the tub and just told her to relax and that she would bring the monitors to her in the tub. M never even had to ask. She had to rig the monitors up quite a bit to get them to read in that position, but she just quietly worked with them so that M could relax and do her thing. When M started feeling pushy, the nurse let her stay there while she checked her, even though that meant the nurse had to contort herself over the edge of the tub and use her left hand to do it! She was awesome!

It was about 5:30 and M was 6cm. Her contractions were quite strong and M moaned and held my hand and moved her body with each contraction. She prayed continually for strength. At 6:30 I asked her if she felt like pushing and she replied, "oh, I already am." LOL. Since that particular hospital does not allow waterbirths, it was time to get out of the tub. It took two of us quite a bit of tugging and pulling to get her out. A final check showed that she was complete and baby was very low. She started pushing and baby just came on out! She took it really slow at crowning and didn't have any tears. The nurses and Dr.'s were all so impressed and went on and on about how they hardly get any natural births there. One Dr. even made the comment that she wanted to look into what it would take to do waterbirths (because it seemed so ridiculous to have to make M move in the first place when she was so comfortable.

The best part of the birth by far, was the fact that M was so happy with her experience. I was a little concerned becasue she was so vocal and seemed to struggle at times. It's always hard to tell if that is just their style of coping or if they are actually struggling. It must have just been her coping style (which I can appreciate, since I'm a pretty loud birther myself) because she absolutely loved her experience. Even 5 minutes after the birth she could rave about how perfect and wonderful it was. That right there is what makes it all perfect and wonderful.
The nurse was so impressed she announced how great the birth was and that it was completely unmedicated to every single person who walked in the door. lol. She openly admitted that she would never do natural birth herself, but that just made me love her all the more because you would have never known that by the love and support she showed M. In my opinion, that is what truly makes a good care provider....someone who can give a person everything they need to feel supported and to achieve their goal regardless of what their own personal beliefs are.

M's baby had a head full of dark curly hair and the chunkiest cheeks I've seen on a newborn in quite a while. 7lbs 13oz baby girl!

I can't wait to go back and see her in a few days. She was such a special woman and so strong. It was a joy to be at her birth. And to be perfectly selfish, it was so wonderful to be at a birth where I did not have to deal with the emotions of a changing birth plan. Most of all, it was so fulfilling to see one more woman proclaim, "WOW! I did it!" and to realize for once how truly miraculous and strong they truly are.

Monster children

A few months ago, my husband and I sat down to watch a TV show. It was something about extravagent 16th birthday parties for rich little brats. These girls were thrown parties that cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. They whined, they begged, they stole credit cards, they flew to paris to find the "perfect" dress, etc. They cried buckets when told that they would be recieving a 3 year old sports car instead of a brand new one.

It made me want to puke!

These girls were so spoiled and their parents looked on with blank eyes and stupified expressions mumbling something about how "good" their kids were. Did I judge them? Heck ya! Spoiled, spoiled brats!

My husband had a conversation with my oldest daughter today. She is having her 6th birthday party next week. The conversation went something like this, "Dad, you and mom had better have the laundry done before my party because I am NOT going to have clothes that don't match. My clothes HAVE to match and I HAVE to be the best dressed one there."

Our party is $60 instead of $600,000. Our child is turning 6, instead of 16, but anyone see a resemblance?

Why I am a doula

I have loved being a doula since I first took the course at Seattle Midwifery School. I can talk about birth for hours on end. I find incredible excitement and joy in being with women during this special time.

I have had a run of births, however, that has really made me question my "love". 4 births in a row. Each one, the mother was strong, prepared and incredibly knowledgable of exactly how to go about working with her body to birth her baby safely, smoothly and unmedicated. In each case, however, despite all of their preparation and hope, their births did not follow the path they had envisioned. All 4 women had OP babies (sunny side up, and the opposite of how baby SHOULD come out). 3 of the 4 women had their water break before labor started, and without labor starting within a day or so of their water breaking, which is a statistical anomaly. 3 of those 4 women labored for days and days, rocking and moaning and walking the halls before deciding for themselves that a Cesarean birth was the birth that was meant for their baby. The other woman was able to have her baby vaginally, but not until after a lot of work (literally 4 1/2 hours of pushing), vacuum and an episiotomy.

I was there for these women. I massaged their aching muscles, I mopped their brow with a cool cloth, I whispered encouraging words to them non-stop. I supported them, both physically and emotionally and gave them my all. When you serve someone, it's impossible to not grow close to them. Their dreams become my dreams. So when their dream must change, I mourn with them as they cry and weep over their change of plans. It's emotionally exhuasting to do that, time and time again.

By the fourth birth, I was at my limit. I literally wanted to run from the room screaming when it became apparent that this birth was following the trend of the last 3 births. I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to be strong anymore. I wanted to run, and cry and scream and rip my hair out. I ached for the sweet and strong woman who had spent the last 8 hours at 9cm. I ached because I knew that I would have to be there to support her when she gave up her dream of a natural childbirth and tried to embrace her new birth path. I ached because I could only imagine the emotions that she was feeling.

But I didn't run. I smiled at her and cried with her and her husband. I reminded them of how strong she was and how this journey had proven what an amazing mother she would be. Afterwards, as I tried to process all of my raw emotions, a wonderful sister doula said to me, " Being a doula often asks us to dig down past the point when we have no more to give, and give some more. That is what we do. We hold out hope, we believe and we support and encourage, when others have "checked out" long ago! We are strong and enduring. Our clients deserve no less, and that is what we do. At every birth, despite how we feel inside, despite our past experiences, despite what might be happening in our personal life, despite circumstances that seem impossible. Despite other births we have recently attended. We are a constant! We look at every birth as a blank slate, with a story to be written. And sometimes it feels like we have read that story before! Yet, we show up to do it again, and watch another story unfold!"
Her words say everything that is in my heart when I doula a woman. I stayed with my client because I am a doula, and that's what doulas do.

I'm in love

Do you ever watch your children when they're sleeping and just fall in love? It is our nightly ritual to lay with our children for 2-3 minutes at bedtime. Last night I chose to stay a little longer because I just couldn't bear to unwrap my 3 year old's soft little arms from around my neck. She is a cuddler and loves to snuggle. As she was falling asleep I just watched her. Even now, the memory is bringing tears to my eyes.

I just studied her perfect, smooth skin, the beautiful curves of her face, her cheeks and that spectacular little nose of hers. I was filled with awe that this wonderful little human being was a product of me....of ME! How in the world did my husband and I create this little child, with her tiny little features and her immense personality? My heart swelled until my chest felt tight. I just couln't keep my eyes off of her. Her chubby little fingers were curled around my hand and for a few minutes, I knew I felt true love.

I mean, we all feel love. We love a lot of people. Sometimes we love so much we shout for joy or shed tears. But then there are the times when that love is so consuming you can hardly breathe. When you're not just feeling love, or thinking about it, but you are love. Every cell in your body vibrates with it. Those are the moments I wish we could feel more often. They say that God is Love. I wonder if He feels love that intensely for us, His children, all of the time? I wonder if I caught a glimpse of the magnitude of His love for us?

All I know is that children are a true gift from God. Especially when they are sleeping.

Finding service in our lives.

This is a serious post today, about something that I am passionate about.
Our church places a lot of emphasis on service. We go out of our way to plan service activities. We clean others homes, we tend their yards, we take people dinner after they've had a surgery, our youth collect items for needy families. We are service oriented to say the least.

How is it then, that the following scenario could possibly play out? A young mother gets up one Sunday morning and faces the daunting task of getting her 5 young children ready for church and getting them all out the door and to church on time. Her husband does not attend with her so she does this all by herself. She gets to church, and during sacrament meeting, her two youngest children start behaving badly. It's obvious she is struggling. The 3 year old boy is yelling and biting and throwing himself around. Feeding off his energy, the 18 month old begins to whine and try to espcape. Not a single person moved to help her. Instead, what she faced was a bunch of glares from people who have obviously forgotten what it's like to attend church with small children. Has it been so long that they've forgotten the constant battle to get littles ones dressed and out the door and to keep them quiet and in good spirits for a long and very adult meeting?
I was stuck in the middle of a pew, and wanted desperately to go help her. Perhaps I should have. Maybe I have no right to say anything because I didnt' get up either. I wanted to. I didn't know if I'd embarrass her if I got up (which would have been very obvious since I was sitting in the middle of the second row!) and walked all the way around to go to where she was. I didn't know if it would be a good idea to leave my own three small children to go and help her. I didn't know what I could do for her, really...but my heart went out to her. Perhaps I should judge others less for their choices not to act, and ponder on my own more. But the others didn't even seem to notice. Most either ignored the problem or shot her disturbing glares. "Why can't she just keep those kids quiet? She's disturbing the spirit!"

What she the one disturbing the spirit? Or was it the ones who were judging and giving distainful looks?

Before I had the chance to do anything, she got up and walked out, carrying two of her kids football style out the door with the other three lagging behind. It was obvious she'd had enough and was going home. I got up and ran out after her. I offered to let her two oldest stay at church with us as we had two extra seats in our car. She admitted she was at her patience level and needed to go, but let the two oldest stay. Before she left, she said, "I guess if I can't handle them, I should have stopped at three, huh?" My heart broke into a million pieces. I knew this was not her talking, but her voicing what she thought (and probably knew) to be the opinions of others that were judging her.

What happened to all those lessons about service and love and charity that they went into our ears but did not compute? Why can we find endless opportunities to serve people, but they must be conjured up in a meeting? Why can't we see the thousands of things we could do each and every day for the people walking and talking and sitting right beside us?

I challenge each of you to look around you and see the opportunities you have to help others in your daily life? A simple word of kindness, a calming presence to someone who looks frustrated, an offer to carry someone's bag as they struggle with not enough hands for their load. Noticing the small moments....the small things are what matter. After all, life is made up of mostly small moments. These are the things that truly portray service and Christlike love.