Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Barry's 38th, Pretzels, and Icicles

Barry turned 38 last week. Can you believe it???
We were wayyyyyyyyyyyyyy over budget for the month, so I took the kids to the Thrift store to go shopping for Daddy's birthday. A while back we borrowed a VCR from my Dad, so I took the kids to the Thrift store to check out(buy) movies. At 50 or 60 cents a pop, It's cheaper than Red Box, and we can keep them if we like them. The kids picked out to give to Daddy,  ET(they loved), the Sandlot(they super loved), Miracle on 34th Street (hated). I picked out Ever After(Ellie loved) and Holiday Inn(Everybody Liked).
Oh, and Barry picked himself out some much needed new ties.(not from the thrift store)
SO we had a heck of a movie night for less than 3$. The kids helped my make orange cupcakes("Because that's his favorite color." James will explain.) for Daddy.  Barry doesn't actually care for cupcakes at all, but the kids enjoyed them, and Barry and I really enjoyed not having to share his special blue berry I make him every year.











 Barry's basketful of presents ....presented by Lauren.

 Don't you love Lauren's pink dipped curls? So pretty.
No, I'm not sure what Ellie is doing.





 Happy Birthday Barry, I love you more everyday.





 SEE!!! I was there too. Not quite IN the picture, but I was doing my job.
What's that you might ask?

 Whoever cut up our wood, doesn't know how big wood stoves are, because the wood doesn't even come close to fitting. So I have to keep a real close eye on it.
(P.S. People with IQ's higher than 100 don't do this. You could very likely burn down your house, or at the very least, get horrible burn marks all over your carpet that you have to cover up with a rug...)
 Made these today. I now know a secret substitute for browning pretzels and bagels instead of a Lye bath.
So yummy! Incidentally, don't eat more than one in a sitting, and DEFINITELY don't eat THREE at once.
Owww Belly ache.
 "Please Sir, can I have smore." Each of my children has at one time developed a strong love for raisins. See the Brazen Raisen Thief
Lauren takes measures into her own hands and climbs up in the pantry, get the raisins, gets out a measuring cup and fills it up. Why a measuring cup, you ask? Because one little time in my cooking-dinner-rush, I gave her raisins in a measuring cup, and now it has been deemed by her as the ONLY way to properly contain the much desired dried fruit.





Barry brought in a large icicle from off our porch.
  
For Ellie it was a Septur for a Queen
For Lauren it was a spear to jab with...
              









                                                           and for James, WELL..poor JAMES didn't like it at all.

Friday, January 18, 2013

ROFL

This is hillllarious!

Watch this

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Get the Picture.



Last weekend, my family traveled to attend my oldest niece's Sweet Sixteen party. My brother and sister-in-law planned this party for many months and intended it to be a big surprise, and it included a photo booth for the guests.
I showed up to the party a bit late and, as usual, slightly askew from trying to dress myself and all my little people for such a special night out. I'm still carrying a fair amount of baby weight and wearing a nursing bra, and I don't fit into my cute clothes. I felt awkward and tired and rumpled.
I was leaning my aching back against the bar, my now 5-month-old baby sleeping in a carrier on my chest (despite the pounding bass and dulcet tones of LMFAO blasting through the room) when my 5-year-old son ran up to me.
"Come take pictures with me, Mommy," he yelled over the music, "in the photo booth!"
I hesitated. I avoid photographic evidence of my existence these days. To be honest, I avoid even mirrors. When I see myself in pictures, it makes me wince. I know I am far from alone; I know that many of my friends also avoid the camera.
It seems logical. We're sporting mama bodies and we're not as young as we used to be. We don't always have time to blow dry our hair, apply make-up, perhaps even bathe (ducking). The kids are so much cuter than we are; better to just take their pictures, we think.
But we really need to make an effort to get in the picture. Our sons need to see how young and beautiful and human their mamas were. Our daughters need to see us vulnerable and open and just being ourselves -- women, mamas, people living lives. Avoiding the camera because we don't like to see our own pictures? How can that be okay?
Too much of a mama's life goes undocumented and unseen. People, including my children, don't see the way I make sure my kids' favorite stuffed animals are on their beds at night. They don't know how I walk the grocery store aisles looking for treats that will thrill them for a special day. They don't know that I saved their side-snap, paper-thin baby shirts from the hospital where they were born or their little hospital bracelets in keepsake boxes high on the top shelves of their closets. They don't see me tossing and turning in bed wondering if I am doing an okay job as a mother, if they are okay in their schools, where we should take them for a vacation, what we should do for their birthdays. I'm up long past the news on Christmas Eve wrapping presents and eating cookies and milk, and I spend hours hunting the Internet and the local Targets for specially-requested Halloween costumes and birthday presents. They don't see any of that.
Someday, I want them to see me, documented, sitting right there beside them: me, the woman who gave birth to them, whom they can thank for their ample thighs and their pretty hair; me, the woman who nursed them all for the first years of their lives, enduring porn star-sized boobs and leaking through her shirts for months on end; me, who ran around gathering snacks to be the week's parent reader or planning the class Valentine's Day party; me, who cried when I dropped them off at preschool, breathed in the smell of their post-bath hair when I read them bedtime stories, and defied speeding laws when I had to rush them to the pediatric ER in the middle of the night for fill-in-the-blank (ear infections, croup, rotavirus).
I'm everywhere in their young lives, and yet I have very few pictures of me with them. Someday I won't be here -- and I don't know if that someday is tomorrow or thirty or forty or fifty years from now -- but I want them to have pictures of me. I want them to see the way I looked at them, see how much I loved them. I am not perfect to look at and I am not perfect to love, but I am perfectly their mother.
When I look at pictures of my own mother, I don't look at cellulite or hair debacles. I just see her -- her kind eyes, her open-mouthed, joyful smile, her familiar clothes. That's the mother I remember. My mother's body is the vessel that carries all the memories of my childhood. I always loved that her stomach was soft, her skin freckled, her fingers long. I didn't care that she didn't look like a model. She was my mama.
So when all is said and done, if I can't do it for myself, I want to do it for my kids. I want to be in the picture, to give them that visual memory of me. I want them to see how much I am here, how my body looks wrapped around them in a hug, how loved they are.
I will save the little printed page with four squares of pictures on it and the words "Morgan's Sweet Sixteen" scrawled across the top with the date. There I am, hair not quite coiffed, make-up minimal, face fuller than I would like -- one hand holding a sleeping baby's head, and the other wrapped around my sweet littlest guy, who could not care less what I look like.


I have literally thousands of pictures stored on my computer of my children. How many am I in?? Very, very, few ... I just looked. I do want my kids to remember me. Some how, i guess I tricked myself into thinking that THEY would only remember me looking super good ...moments when my hair was just right, my clothes were cute, my stomach was flat, my makeup super faltering, ....if that's all I took a picture of. Of course those moment almost never exist, and looking over my history of photos, it's almost like my family grew up motherless.
As a child and adult. I love looking through the family photo album and spotting my mom in a picture(they are almost non-existent). I've never payed attention or thought about,  what she may look like to the world, what she was wearing, whether her belly looked squishy or not. Just, "Hey look that's MOM, and she's holding ME, I remember that day!"
I am joining the campaign, "To get Mom in the Picture".




 the anticipation is killing me.......................


 *








 Perfect!





                                          Actually a few do exist..............


















The End








P.S if you can guess what the * picture sequence is really about, extra points for you!
P.S.S Extra points can be traded in for homemade cookies if you live less than 20 ft away, or if your place of residence doesn't involve me going outside to deliver them. Brrrrrrr.










Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Lauren LaRue turns 2






After we had Eleanor, Barry and I had quite a bit of trouble trying to have another child, and had lost almost all hope. Yet, one night I had a dream. I dreamed clearly of a beautiful dark-eyed, dark-haired baby girl. I was standing over her as she lay on a bed, dressed in a pretty dress on a pastel blanket. The dream became very real to me as I stood over her looking into her eyes, and I realized, with a bit of a shock, that I recognized her. I knew who she was, and as she looked back at me, I knew that she knew me. This beautiful, little, dark-haired baby was my child, my sweet daughter. 
The dream gave me hope for the future, that Barry and I would someday be blessed with another child. Another year or two went by and we were so very happy and grateful to be able to add James, to our family. We felt strongly that our little family was not yet complete ...but, I felt scared, greedy, and a bit ungrateful to try for another child after being blessed with James ...especially with the odds being so severely against us. But when our little James was only a year old, Barry and I both knew it was time to try again. This time my pregnancy passed by without any real trouble and at 37 weeks our little miracle, Lauren Noelle joined our family. We were overjoyed! On Lauren's Blessing Day, Barry's mom gave Lauren a precious pink baby dress sewn by Barry's Grandmother(she had passed on). The dress was beautiful and one-of-a-kind. I felt very honored that Barry's mom had passed the dress onto us, out of all of her 8 children.
Later that day, I took Lauren upstairs to take some pictures. With the afternoon sun streaming in through the window, I laid Lauren down a top of a lovely baby quilt made by Barry's sister, and dressed my sweet daughter in that precious pink dress. It was then, at that moment, looking down at her, that I recognized the baby of my dream from years early. Everything was the same, the lighting, the dress, the blanket, the baby. I looked into my baby's beautiful eyes, and with tears escaping down my face, I knew without ANY doubt that I had a loving Father in Heaven, who was mindful of me, and who cared enough for me, to bless me with that early glimpse of my daughter who would bring such hope, peace, and joy into my life.









                           Happy Birthday! I love you Lauren Noelle, more than words can say.









Just a few of the million things I love about you....

I love how well you talk, I don't think there is anything you can't say....
I love your beautiful soft ...sort of curly, sort of straight, wild hair.
I love when you look in the mirror and twirl and say. "oh pretty, pretty."
I love how you're bold and not scared to stand up to a big brother, or big sister.
I love how, even though you're the smallest, you half to be in the middle of things with your siblings.
I love the way you run, so smooth, like an Indian.
I love your strong deep voice. 
I love how you surprise us by pointing at us at dinner and saying "Hands up!"
I love how you're a Daddy's girl, and want to be with him every moment.
I love how you tell me when you're going to barf(berf), when you need your diaper changed, or when you  need a bath...:)
I love that you can and will put yourself down for a nap.
I love that you care about other people and their feelings.
I love how you wipe my tears away when I am sad, and ask. "You otay Mom? you otay?"
I love how you like to steal people's "spots"(seats), and when you come from the other room just to plop yourself down on my lap to be near me.
I love how you are quick to say that you are sorry, even when you're not guilty.
I love how you take possession of things that couldn't possibly be yours and adamantly claim them as your own.
I love your cheesy grin.



Christmas 2012


 A FAMILY bow, a must for all families.
 James much anticipated remote-control dozer
 trusty pocketknife. I'm not sure who's pocket it would fit into exactly....
Ellie's requested scooter.
 Lauren is always playing with Ellie's jewelry box, so she was very happy to receive one of her own.
 Christmas snowpants.


 Taking advantage of the white Christmas. We went sledding up by Pomerelle.
 The children with the terrorist
 First time down the hill.....


Don't worry, that's me at the bottem to catch them. Catching a sled with my most precious bundles was a big responsibility and I took it seriously. After, I found out how "easy" it was to catch a sled, loaded with children hurdling towards me I quickly traded jobs with Barry and helped the kids from the top instead. ;)



Christmas presents from Great Grandma Griffin
Lauren would not put down any of her presents. Once she opened it she wanted to keep a hold on it. She received Snowy for Christmas. Tin Tin's dog. Lauren's love of Tin Tin is a post in it self.
 Ellie and Natalie put on a puppet show for the whole family
 Lauren's beloved birthday present from Grandma Stuart. She absolutely loves it!

                                                                 Merry Christmas 2012!

Monday, December 10, 2012

Nutcracker 31

A kind friend, gave us 2 tickets to the Nutcracker. I wasn't up to it, so Barry asked Ellie on a date.
She was super excited to go. She had a fun time, but went to straight to bed when she came home, and I mean "straight to bed." ...Walked in the door...up the stairs, got into bed, and was fast asleep before I could even open my mouth to ask her if she liked it. Ballet is tiring
 stuff, I guess.


Scary picture, I know. That's what a week of crying does to you and only mascara for makeup. (ACK!)
..but the focus of the picture is the delicious, decadent, white chocolate black raspberry cheesecake my friend made for my 31st birthday. It was the best thing I've ever eaten. Sooooooo yummmy!!

The cute Monson family came to see me on my birthday as well. I haven't seen my friend DaNette since highschool. So 12 years and 8 kids later(3 for me, 5 for her), it was quite a meeting. Thanks DaNette!
Sorry I didn't even offer you a piece of cheesecake, I wasn't intentionally hoarding it, ..possibly unintentionally, but definitely not intentionally. ;)

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Nicholas James



This is an excerpt from my journal. It is not edited well, it is of a very personal nature and may be distressing to some.There is one fuzzy picture. So this post may not be for everyone, but I wanted to include it in my blog.



I was very happy to discover I was pregnant again, in August of 2012. This pregnancy was rough. From the very beginning I was extremely sick, and unable to do more than get out of bed for 5 ½ weeks, but I dreamed clearly of a little boy, with dark eyes, his name was Nicholas. 
The doctor was actually pleased with how sick I was, and told me that the sickness was a positive sign. At  around 10 weeks, I was able to hear our dear baby’s heartbeat and a had a quick ultrasound to make sure all was well.  I was anxious to go to each of my appointments to hear the baby’s heartbeat and reassure myself that the baby was okay.

I was very excited when I was finally able to schedule my ultrasound to find out the gender of the baby. I had told Barry, if we have a boy, we will name him Nicholas, (no ifs ands or buts about it :) and if we have a girl, we could discuss her name. He wasn’t sure if he agreed, but also didn’t argue with me.

When I went in to schedule my ultrasound. I requested the ultrasound be on my birthday,(Dec 4th) since I knew I would be 19 weeks. Yet, on a second thought, I asked the receptionist if I could schedule it earlier, I fully expected to be told no. For I knew that wasn’t what the doctor wanted …but I was anxious to see my baby. The receptionist didn’t even blink, she said I could schedule it for that Tuesday (Nov 27th) if I wanted  (even though the note I had just given her from the Doctor said to wait at least another week.) I smiled, and said “that would be great!”

Barry and the kids came with me to my appointment. The ultrasound tech, wondered out-loud, no less than 10 times, why I had been scheduled for an ultrasound a week early. I just smiled at her and didn’t say anything. Our baby was perfect in every way. He was quick to show us he was a boy, and I started crying I was soo happy. James was very excited for “a little brudder.” Ellie was just happy we were happy. The ultrasound tech was amazed at how clear the image was, and that she was able to make all the measurements she needed so easily. He was wiggling all around and waving his arms. Before we left, the tech took a few pictures of our little boy. James even recognized that his little brother was trying to communicate. “He said, look Mom, he’s giving us a thumbs up.”, and sure enough, he was.  

We were so very happy to be having a little boy, but something was not sitting right in my heart. I hesitated to share my fears with Barry, because a pregnancy loss after 12 weeks is so rare.  I even looked it up, less than half a percent. 

Unfortunately only three days later on November 30th( 18 weeks), at 6 am I woke up, laying peacefully in bed, and my water broke. I ran to the bathroom crying and called to Barry, who was just leaving for work. I told him what happened, and all he said was “but Jill, it’s too early he can’t survive.” “I know,” I said.  We frantically called a neighbor, whose name just popped into my head. She agreed to come. As soon as she arrived, we jumped in the car and drove to the hospital. I called them on the way to let them know we were coming. We went into the ER, and they were very kind to us. They made sure I was comfortable and brought out the Doppler machine, which monitors baby’s heartbeat. I wanted to scream at the lady not to put it on my stomach, but she did, and immediately found our baby’s heartbeat. She said “Your baby’s heartbeat is fine and he is alive right now.” The Dr called and said he was on his way and ordered me to have an ultrasound. Explaining that the water loss could just possibly be a discharge from the uterus. I was horrified, I didn’t want to see an ultrasound. They wheeled me into the ultrasound room, and the ultrasound tech, immediately began measuring our little boy’s arms, and legs, and pointing out where his organs were. She put the heartbeat on the speaker so we could hear it. I looked up at my little baby on the screen and I knew that something was very wrong. He was curled up in a ball and had his head tucked down in his chest. I knew at that moment he was dying. I closed my eyes and started crying uncontrollably. Barry took my hand and we cried together.  I tried to ask the ultrasound tech questions, but she would just respond, that it was up to the doctor to look at the pictures and decide. When the Dr. walked in, he said “I was hoping that the decision wouldn’t be in a grey area, and that it would be black and white, and THIS decision is black and white.”  The decision was very black as he proceeded to explain that to prevent fatal infection for me, our baby would need to be delivered that day, and would most likely not survive the labor, and was too premature to be saved if he was in fact born alive.  

 At that moment I entered an alternate reality (I’m sure due to shock). They wheeled me back to the emergency room, while they prepared things in Labor and Delivery. It was then, through my tears, I asked Barry if we could give our boy a name …knowing in my heart that I couldn’t name him anything other than Nicholas.  Barry took my hand and said, “He already has a name.” 
It was there in the delivery room, that Barry gave me a beautiful Priesthood Blessing, I had asked him to bless our Nicholas that he would not have to suffer, and would pass from this earth quickly. When Barry gave me the blessing, I knew the words that he was saying were not his own.  He blessed me to know that nothing I had done had caused this to happen. He blessed me to know that Nicholas and Heavenly Father were aware of me, and they knew that this was going to happen, and for me to know that he(Nicholas) had chosen this. That he had come to this earth to get a body, but that he needed to return home now. He blessed Nicholas to pass from this earth quickly and not to suffer. He blessed me to know that even though our dear little boy couldn’t be with us now, that he would be mine again someday.
I knew, and know that what he was saying was true and that those words were from my Heavenly Father. An overwhelming spirit of comfort descended upon the room and stayed with us, and I spent the next few quiet moments quietly saying goodbye to our little boy.  We were comforted to remember seeing our little boy through the ultrasound waving to us just a few days earlier and giving us a thumbs up sign, ...knowing now that he had chosen this path and was telling us goodbye.
After inducing my labor, Nicholas James Pate was born later that day. He was tiny, and dark red, but perfect in every way. His eyes were closed and he looked completely at peace, though his body was bruised from a rough delivery. He had big feet like his older brother and a very similar frame. Tiny hands with long fingers. He had a little cleft in his chin, and broad shoulders like his Daddy. His little profile looked amazingly like James.  We had decided to name him Nicholas Barry, but after seeing him, we knew he was Nicholas James. We took some pictures and held him for a long time, even though we knew that he had left this earth earlier on, and wasn’t in his little body anymore. 

After recovering a bit from surgery, we returned home. I prayed that Nicholas' spirit would stay with us for a while so we would not have to go home without him. We were grateful to Grandma and Grandpa Pate who had driven up to be with the kids. 

It was hard to tell the kids about their brother. We told them, we named him Nicholas.  James got a frown and said, but I wanted you to name him James. We were happy to tell him we did. We named him Nicholas James. That made James very happy.
The next morning, James woke up to tell me he played with Nicholas James up in Heaven, and was sad when he had to leave. That they had had lots of fun together.
Ellie made me a beautiful card, on which she wrote the names of our family and drew Nicholas’ picture.
A few days later I was looking at some pictures of Nicholas that we had taken at the hospital. James came right over, and said, “That’s Nicholas James Pate.  He has died in that picture. I love him Mom.” He had no trouble recognizing his little brother, and that his sweet spirit was no longer in his little body and had already returned to Heaven.





                                     Nicholas James Pate 11/30/2012


Though our hearts are broken, we are so thankful little Nicholas came to our family ..even though he couldn't stay.  We know we will see him again, and are so very grateful for the peace and comfort the gospel brings.

Friday, November 2, 2012

Lend me your ear...please






 *I had been struggling with a bad ear infection for about three weeks. Unfortunately, two weeks ago Lauren woke up screaming in the night, I sat up in bed and opened my mouth to say something to her ....and CRACK! Searing pain in my ear, and fluid trickling out of my ear. Ack! it was blood. Since then, all I've heard is a rushing waterfall or the sound of symbols crashing together in my ear, ...a crash with every heart beat. I lay in bed and tap my toes to the "music" to try and fall asleep amidst the noise. Fortunately, and no doubt due to a heartfelt prayer, in the last two days my hearing has begun to improve, the crashing noises much reduced, and the painful pressure and dizziness dissipating.

Whew! I have high hopes my hearing with return and so do my kids, and every other person that's tried to talk to me in the last two weeks that's had to repeat themselves 5+ times.

Anyway..that's what I've been up to. Hopefully serving as an excuse for my increased orneriness, and not making the kids their Halloween costumes.




  James and Lauren fight, fight fight! So when I see things like this I can't help but take a picture.
pic above: James giving Lauren a tour of the kitchen on his beloved plasma car. (Look at Bigfoot, my boy is going to be tall, or just have very very good balance.)

The other day, James was pushing Lauren around the kitchen very fast and crazy on a play car, Lauren was squealing, in fear and fun . I formed a road block and grabbed the car. Leaning over James, I pointed my finger at his chest and said sternly. "James, I want you to go slow and careful." James just looks up at me and says. "WELL, I'm not pushing YOU Mom! ..Running off faster than before, with Lauren squealing with glee."




 
 James taking care of Lauren: She didn't even ask me to help. She wanted James. He helped her in the swing, and pushed her for a long time before I had to intervene.

"Do you want an underdog, Lauren???", he asks?

"Yeah!" says Lauren.

"Um no." says Mom.


 Ellie's first grade class on Halloween. Teacher Ms. Hepworth.

 Ellie in the school Halloween Parade

 Barry sewed the girl's Indian costumes.(*see my excuse above) We were so pleased and surprised that Ellie requested to be something other than a Fairy Princess, I told her I would buy her a costume. After looking around, Barry decided he could make a better one, and I think it turned out great!
 Oh course, little Lauren wanted to be an Indian like Ellie, so Barry salvaged the leftover material and made her one too. James didn't want to be an Indian, he wanted to be a scary dinosaur.
 I think Lauren's expressions in these photos are so funny.