Let the Airstrike Begin

Jeremiah is working to become a Seminary teacher. He's been in the program for a while and has been teaching since August. It's quite a process that he has to go through. His trainer has to watch him teach pretty regularly and offer suggestions as needed. I remember Jeremiah telling me a long time ago that if his trainer thought things were going well someone from Salt Lake would come in and take a look. If that person liked what they saw then they would "call an air strike" and Jeremiah would then be bombarded by evaluators a little higher up and see where things go from there.

He's had numerous evaluations from his local trainer and on Friday he had his second evaluation from one of the guys from Salt Lake City. So anyway, the guy on Friday told Jeremiah that he would recommend that Jeremiah have an HR representative come to our home and that the both of us would go to Salt Lake "some time in the next month or two" and interview with a General Authority.

On Monday he gets a phone call. Could we be in Salt Lake, the next day, by 3:00 to meet with Elder Marcus B. Nash of the Seventy? *Ahhhhh!* Um, sure, we could do that! Then he got home to see that he had already received an e-mail saying that another fellow would be here on Thursday (today) to evaluate him and that our HR interview would be on Monday. When Jeremiah passed on that information I grinned and said, "Hey! Air strike!" and I wondered if that was the first time someone had been so happy while using that term.

So our "month or two" turned into just a few days and we have been in a whirlwind! But we're so excited. This doesn't necessarily mean that he'll be hired but from our experience on Tuesday - which I will be sure to write about as soon as I'm done deciding if it may have been a dream - really has put us at ease about our future.

So bring it on...at least it's not the same kind of air raid my mother has been dealing with...

Important...But Not Really

I am not a writer. Things happen and I can retell the events, but my wit and humor is usually lost in the translation from my mind to the keyboard. I'm much better communicating in person. On paper (or monitor, as it were) I just don't have that gift of expression. It never fails that if I start to write and try to really express how I feel - or felt - about things it never turns out the way I'd like it to.

Yet, I continue to blog. I blog because I want to remember and document things that I might otherwise forget. I cannot claim that I display any literary prowess, but at least we'll have something to look back on, assuming I ever get this printed up and in a binder.

That's all.

15 Reasons I Love You, Daughter

15 months...15 things...

1. You share my love for food. You will climb into your booster seat several times a day and either point to the fridge and say, "Dat" or just make a lot of noise until someone places food in front of you. Also, you give an insulted, indignant look to anyone who dares try to feed you baby food.

2. When you have resigned yourself to the fact that you must take a nap you will reach up and play with the sweet thin strands on your head that we encouragingly refer to as hair.

3. You smile at everything constantly, until we pay someone to capture it on film, and then, you will smile at nothing!

4. You cannot hear music without dancing or bouncing your arms to the rhythm. Just last week you led the Mormon Tabernacle Choir as we watched their broadcast at Gammie's house. I suspect the channel wouldn't have remained on that station so long if it weren't for your exuberance in conducting them.

5. You will sit still while I place numerous foam curlers in your hair, but the instant I am finished you insist on ripping them out.


6. You don't say much but you communicate very well. For a 15-month old you understand and follow directions really well. I can tell you to go get a tissue, close the fridge, and put something in the garbage and you are so quick to oblige. And you have done very well pointing and learning a few signs to let the rest of us know what it is you want.

7. You adore your older brother. I played peekaboo with you the other night and you were not interested at all until Isaac joined in. Then it was hysterical!

8. Sometimes you wake up earlier in the morning than I would like to get up so I bring you into bed with me. But you are not satisfied to lay next to me. No, you must be on me. And it's not just like you can lay your head on me and be happy, huh-uh. You require full-body contact and if I move to a position that does not suit you you have no qualms about pushing me back into place until you are once again comfortable. How dare I move my pregnant body beneath you in my own bed seeking my own comfort when clearly you are all that matters?

9. You think it is not only your privilege, but your personal duty to shred every piece of tissue or paper that comes across your path.

10. You love to chew on your toothbrush brush your teeth. You believe that anyone standing in front of the bathroom sink is brushing their teeth. You come in with the command of a Nazi, arm raised in front of you barking the order of, "Bwaahhh!" which we all have come to realize means, "I would like my toothbrush, please."

11. You believe that any object that is taller than you are is extending a challenge to you to climb it. We find you on the table several times a day and pull you down from other heights as well. Every time you are found atop some great height you smile triumphantly before jumping fearlessly into our arms.

12. You are a daredevil. You love it when Daddy tosses you into the air or spins you around. You especially enjoyed walking upside-down on the ceiling last night, courtesy of Dad.

13. You like to play wild, but there is a bit of a nurturer in you as well. Just the other day you wrapped up one of Isaac's Ninja Turtles in a bib a carried it around, patting it on the back.

14. You give the sweetest "loves" and kisses to everyone...except Uncle Gabriel, whom you insist on teasing relentlessly.

15. You are strong and independent. You don't let anyone push you around and you hold your own. Yet you show compassion and genuine concern for those around you. Last week Isaac had the flu and you had an intense look of worry on your face every time he cried in his misery. You clap for him when he moved his player in a game and you love to climb up next to him on the couch and just chill.

The list goes on, baby doll. I just adore you.

Impeccable Timing

I have pretty healthy kids. They rarely ever get sick and we seem to escape most of the flus and viruses that get passed around. Yes we're pretty lucky. But tonight I am having a game night - to assuage my post-holiday let-down and pregnancy depression woes - which means that it's time for both of my kids to get sick. Kenley woke up Tuesday morning covered in vomit and didn't waste much time in bringing me to the same state.

Then Isaac took a nap yesterday - which should have roused my sick-child-suspicions in and of itself - and woke from it by spewing all over the couch, pillow, the floor and himself. I had been silently praising the blessing it was that he was napping because it allowed me to clean up the bathroom for my party tonight - the bathroom did not stay clean long. In fact, I think the instant I put the mop away was the same minute he woke up barfing.

Luckily, neither one of them was too affected by this bug. Kenley was done throwing-up after about 2 hours and it took Isaac about twice that long to stop. Kenley's appetite was pretty weak yesterday but it seems to have come back in full force today. And Isaac was able to eat some toast for breakfast and 1/2 a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch and keep it all down. He's been fine today, although he's taking a nap again. I don't think he slept all that well last night, he kept waking, asking for a drink.

So, since they both seem well enough now, I'm still going to have my party. I feel a little guilty sending them off so that I can party, even if it is to Nana's, but maybe tonight will be the last little bit of recovery we all need.

The Words I Almost Said

"Honey, when you get done massaging my feet will you please put the lotion on my vanity instead of on your nightstand? It's really annoying when I have to walk all the way around the bed to get my lotion after I shower in the mornings."

Instead I said, "Thanks for the footrub, hon'."

Sometimes I do think things through.

If You're Happy and You Know It...Don't Read This Post

This pregnancy is really kicking my butt.

When I was pregnant with both of my other kids, I think I was pretty normal. Tired, but normal. I don't recall being overly emotional - perhaps I should double check with my husband - and I didn't really have any cravings. Not the case this time around.

The only thing that is the same is that I am tired. Only, I think that by this time I was regaining some energy in previous pregnancies. I have a really hard time because I feel like I should be able to keep my house clean, play with my kids and do my regular chores and be fine. But I'm not. I have one good day and then I'm wasted the next day. And it's not just that I am tired, I. Am. Drained. Physically and emotionally.

I know it's from the pregnancy and the hormones, but I go through this whole process in my head where I tell myself I'm just being lazy. That there is no reason I can't keep the house up and the kids entertained. That women do it all the time and with more kids and more involvement in other things as well. If it weren't for going to the doctor, I wouldn't have left my house since Tuesday night.

I've been putting the kids to bed at 7:00 just so that I can have some time to myself. But I also feel guilty, like I'm just trying to get rid of them. I feel selfish. And yet, when they go to bed I am relieved. And then I don't do anything productive and I'm mad at myself.

Last night I looked at my house and I pictured my walls as those of a prison. All of a sudden this house was not my home. I found no comfort in the house that I have tried to make so welcoming. And then I laughed. I laughed a sick, dirty little laugh as I remembered thanking my Heavenly Father for this very house earlier during family prayer. How could I be grateful for and so resentful of the same thing in the same day?

Anyway, I just don't feel like myself. The problem is, it's not everyday. Most days I feel fine, tired always, but content. And then something just smacks me across the face and I'm no longer me. There's no warning, no red flag waving. I just hit a wall.

I didn't mean for this post to be so negative, I really just needed to get it all out. I know it won't last forever and I'll get through it.