Life Lessons Learned, Part 1

Life is a roller coaster, I'm sure we can all agree on this point.
The last few weeks has been like The Cyclone on steroids.
Full of the highest ups and the bottom-est downs.
Some moments I'm not sure if I'm caught in a tail spin or if it's just life giving me a reality check.
I'll say this though, I have plenty to blog about for the next little while.
There's no way I can fit all of these crazy adventures and life lessons learned in one measly blog post.
I'll start with this life lesson learned:
Seven days is much too long to be away from my kids.
And ten days is much, much too long to be away from my lover.
The next time I decide to spend a week in the wonderful Florida sunshine, they are ALL coming with me.
I saw a single man on the airplane ride home flying all by himself with 4 small children.
He is my hero.
Mr Bird has always been apprehensive about flying with small children.
He would rather drive 4-5 days straight than bring our family on an airplane, for fear of bothering other flyers.
After I saw this man and how well behaved his children were, I am not the least bit afraid.
Little M&M and I packed our bags and hopped a plane (two actually) and headed to someplace warm to visit my sweet niece and her darling family.
Little Miss Mae was an awesome little traveler.
She had everyone from stewardesses to old ladies to middle aged men wrapped around her darling little finger.
Not to mention other children and babies.
She met her long lost best friend (who was just her age) on the plane ride home.
It was hilarious!
Those two must have known each other in Heaven, and the earthly reunion was quite the sight to behold.
There was laughing and squealing and bouncing and waving and the biggest smiles you've ever seen.
For. Four. Hours. Straight.
Until they both fell asleep for the last 10 minutes of the flight.
Twelve hours before my plane landed home sweet home at Salt Lake City International Airport, Mr Bird hopped a plane bound for San Diego for an annual conference that he has been attending for as long as I can remember.
He's on the board of directors for some organization that has something to do with something, yada, yada, yada.
His work stuff goes over my head.
All I know is this; every time Mr Bird goes to this conference there is some disaster or another we deal with while he's gone.
Last year my water broke nearly 3 weeks early and he had to reschedule his flight to get home in time for M&M's birth.
Two years ago I ran over a tricycle and punctured our full 40 gallon gas tank and watched as it all spilled into the driveway. The fire truchk saved me that year.
Three years ago this was my day while he was away.
In fact we joked over the dinner table the night before I left about what the catastrophe would be this year.
Once he got to the conference his colleagues joked about what could possibly go wrong this time.
This year's drama did not disappoint.
But since this post is already quite long, I'll just say this:
To Be Continued...

Sister Therapy

Once a month my sisters and I (there are 5 of us) get together and leave our children with our husbands and spend the day together.
The second Saturday of the month is untouchable.
We don't plan parties or trips or errands.
Second Saturday is Sister Saturday.
Period, the end, no questions asked, always and forever.
We meet at Christine's house at about 8:30am and then get in her huge van and pick a place to breakfast together.
Then we stay in the restaurant way too long talking, and laughing and crying together.
Group therapy anyone?
It is the mother of all therapy sessions.
We talk about everything under the sun; those 4 girls know more about me than probably everyone else I know combined (except Mr Bird of course).
We deal with issues from our childhood and they teach me so much.
I feel like no one else on earth could possibly understand the things I deal with quite like my sisters can.
They have been there, too.
They know how I feel because they feel the exact same way.
I don't remember my parents when they were married, I was only 2 when my dad left.
But my sisters do, to varying degree.
It is intriguing and so therapeutic to hear the things they remember.
They put pieces of the puzzle together for me like no one else ever could.
It helps to heal my soul.
We catch up on each others lives and brag about our children and cry over them sometimes, too.
We talk about who's who and what's what.
We talk about things that one could only share with a sister.
And let's not forget retail therapy.
We hit fabric stores and thrift shops and kitchen stores and warehouse clubs.
We eat samples and try on clothes together in the same dressing room.
We have even spent afternoons engaged in humanitarian service projects.
Just when my life seems to get to be too much to handle, a Sister Saturday rolls around.
It is the balm my troubled soul needs.
I come home feeling filled and rested and ready to fight the good fight some more, and harder than before.
My sisters make me want to be a better wife and mother.
They fill my empty bucket.
I can only hope that I can in some small way do the same for them.
They will always be my Angel Sisters, my best friends!

Perfection Eluded

"Why can I never get this house CLEAN??!!?"

The words erupt out of me, carrying with them the stress I feel in every pore of my body.
I look and see someone's toothbrush on the needed-to-be-mopped-days-ago tile floor and shudder.
Undoubtedly the little owner of that gross brush will put that thing in his mouth for the express purpose of cleaning his teeth.
Seems ironic.
I am beyond caring about such minor details.
I yell at the little owner to replace it in the bathroom drawer so at least I don't have to look at it anymore.
My words cut, even I can feel that.
Somedays I wonder why I even bother at all.
No matter how many times I have them clean up, no matter how many times I teach them to put their things away, the hurricane is relentless.
When they are tucked into theirs beds all peaceful and cozy with sweaty little heads, the destruction they've left in their wake is still there.
A pile of laundry here, a light saber there, a puddle of who-knows-what under the table.
Oh well, I think, the dog will lick it (whatever it is) up in the morning.
I trip on Lego's and plastic horses in the darkness on my way to kiss their stinky, sleeping heads.
Do I battle the winds day in and day out?
Do I stay up and clean?
Where did the hours in the day go, anyway?
Or do I just give in to the chaos?
Where is the balance?
Why can I not have a perfectly clean house and perfectly well behaved children who are perfectly smart in all areas of learning who never fight?
Isn't that the goal?
Why does it elude me so?
The answer comes painfully sharp to my heart.
Because I'm not perfect.
I am not perfectly clean, though I try hard. My desk is a pile of things that need to be dealt with, but haven't yet.
I don't always behave as I should. I yell and fuss when I should bend down and hug.
I have yet to learn all things. Along this home school journey I feel like I am the one on a quest for knowledge. Doodle is learning about U.S. history and the constitution and the branches of government. I must have missed that whole year in school because I am ashmed to say how much I am the one learning from her 4th grade lessons.
I wish I could say I never fight. I have a strong will and sometimes I just can't let things go.
So there it is, friends.
I (believe it or not) am less than perfect.
Much, much less.
So are my children and my house and my husband and my dog (she pooped on the floor just yesterday).
(Little M&M is the only perfect one around here, but that's only because she hasn't learned to talk yet.)
And guess what?
I don't plan to be perfect anytime soon.
If there's one thing I've learned time and again, it's this: no matter how seemingly perfect someone might seem on their blog or on facebook or at church, they are not.
Well, maybe THEY are, but I'm not, not by any stretch of the imagination.
I have my struggles, temptations, annoying habits and ugly bed head when I wake up in the morning (which stays with me on the days I don't leave the house).
We have messes in the living room after a long morning of studying.
Sometimes I go into the kitchen at 4:45 with no idea as to how it got so late and no idea what I'm going to make for dinner.
I often feel overwhelmed and stressed and even angry.
Those are the days when I snatch up the only perfect one in the house after dinner and take her to my bedroom and lock the door and just snuggle her on my rocking chair in the quietness.
I breath her in, trying my hardest to ingrain her babyness into my memory to conjure up again once she's all grown and they're all gone.
So for now I think I'll leave the mess.
I'll just sniff all of my babies heads on my way to bed and it will be enough, more than enough.

My Mountains

I happen to be one lucky mama.
My cute nephew, Justin is my personal mountain trail tour guide.
Every Tuesday morning we meet in some obscure (usually gravel) parking lot and he hauls (quite literally) me and my 5 children up some gorgeous mountain trail.
Sometimes it's just too much for the 3 year old.

We end up overlooking the valley that we call home.
One of those tiny dots down below is actually my house.
We drag along anyone else who is brave enough to join the throng.

I've learned a thing or two about myself during these sweaty excursions.
I grew up in California (well, that I already knew).
The nearest mountains to our home looked like tiny pencil drawings on the horizon.
Some days you could not see them at all through the smog.
It literally took hours to drive to them.
While we visited them a few times in the winter to play in the snow, I did not spend much time in their majesty.
As a young single adult, I told myself I'd never live in Utah.



I loved my California sun.
Plus, I figured there were plenty of Mormons in Utah, I was better off where I was.
And I was happy about my decision.
Until I wasn't.

I moved to Utah in the Spring of 2000, supposedly for college.
The first time I walked out the front door and saw the huge looming mountains just overhead, I was stunned and it was love at first sight.
For weeks I could not help being in awe of their beauty every time I stepped outside.
I had no intentions of staying in Utah forever, however.
Until I met Mr Bird.
One of the first things we did after we were married was to go up in the mountains on a camping trip where we canoed to the back of some unheard of place, packed our stuff into a deserted spot and slept under the stars all by ourselves.
Not a hiker or a camper to be seen.
It was beautiful.
My love for these mountains has only gotten stronger each Summer season I spend in them.
They are part of me now.
They are part of my children and my family and my home.

I love to look out the kitchen window and see the mountains ablaze in the setting sun.
I love to hear my children's laughter with their cousins as we plug along another beautiful mountain hike.
I love to take off my hot, stinky shoes and dip my toes in the cool mountain streams.
I love to watch the sun come up behind the tallest peak.
I love to look below and for just a moment take a break from the worries and stresses of this thing called life, and just breath.

I love spending time with so many awesome family members and friends.
I love how the leaves on the aspens twinkle in the early morning light.
I love saving our yummy snacks to eat at the very tippy top.
I love the exercise we get from climbing nature's stair master.
I love the first hike of the season, when the winter snow has melted and the world is just turning green again.
When we finally reach the top, I love the soothing spray of the waterfall on my hot face.

I love the millions and millions of wild flowers.
Their beauty and wonder is etched into my heart.
I have learned that I need these mountains.
They keep me focused.
They help me to know my creator as I see his hand in their majesty.
I've learned that this place is my home.
These mountains are my mountains.
I've learned that no matter how hard the climb, it's always worth it once you get to the top.
I've learned that when I'm breathing the air up there, it feels like I'm finally home.

Broken

In January Mr Bird started a work out called Crossfit.
Some friends of ours opened a new Crossfit gym near our house and it did not take too much arm twisting to get Mr Bird there.
He was immediately hooked.
He would come home from the work outs and be sore for days, not able to bend or walk straight.
Since then Mr Bird has dropped a few pounds and pants sizes.
He claims he's in the best shape of his life.
If he has to miss a workout during the week he is beyond bummed.
I was still Prego with Little M&M when he started this new hobby.
Every day he would tell me of the brutal work outs and then proceed to tell me that I needed to try it once I had the baby.
My first thought was, you want me to do what?
After having my 5th child?
You must be out of your mind.
So I have slowly been trying to wrap my head around this crossfit idea.
A couple months ago we went to the open house of the gym.
While we were there a little boy was trying to lift a bar that the weights go on (I don't know the name of it).
I was standing right next to him in open toe sandals when it came crashing to the floor, landing square on my pinkie toe.
It bled and throbbed and swelled.
It did not take too long to realize that the toe was broken.
Fast forward a few weeks and Mr Bird convinced me to do a WOD (work out of the day) at home with him.
I decided to oblige.
Big mistake.
Half way through the work out my back seized up and I could not move (something about bad form, yadda, yadda).
It took weeks to get any sort of mobility back.
Picking up Little M&M from her crib at night to feed her was sheer torture.
So far I did not have a very pleasant experience with this thing called Crossfit.
Yesterday I decided to wake up my poor postpartum self and try again.
I am ready to have my abs back.
For the most part, it went well and I enjoyed the work out.
(They take it easy on newcomers and give us a work out just for weaklings like myself and call it the newbie WOD)
However, I made a shocking discovery during the warm up.
I was trying to do a movement called hollow rocks.
It requires lying on the ground on your back and holding your legs up in the air at about a 45 degree angle.
Then you lift your head off the ground with your arms raised over your head and rock back and forth from your bum to your back.
As I tried to get into position I was alarmed at my body.
Try as I may I could not lift my legs off the ground (while keeping them extended).
They felt as if they were glued to the carpet.
I could lift one at a time, but not both.
It was such a weird sensation to have my brain telling my legs to move a certain way and get absolutely no response.
My lower abs are not just broken, they seem to be totally MIA.
Gone somewhere along with my sanity.
I am still alarmed that I could not even get through the warm up without totally tanking.
Now I have a new resolve.
I WILL be able to lift my legs, both at the same time, off the ground if it kills me.
This is my new quest.
Small as it may seem I have a goal:
To mend my broken abs.

Enjoy this video about Crossfit:

My Happy Self

My poor, poor neglected blog, has it really been so long since I posted?
Time has been flying by in a whirlwind, as it does once the baby is out every time.
It feels like you're pregnant for an eternity, then all of a sudden they are going to college and you just can't figure out where the time went.
My little M&M is no different.
She is already growing and changing so much.
It's good though, she is so fun when she smiles and talks and blows raspberries at us.
Doodle thinks it's hilarious that she will flare her little nostrils when you flare yours at her.
We all end up laughing til our sides hurt at all the cuteness.
There have been a million things I have wanted to blog about the past few weeks, but I just can't seem to sit down for 10 minutes without a baby in my arms smiling at me and making it really difficult to type.

Like Little M&M's blessing day and how Dubs thought she looked just like a little princess.
Or the fact that the 11th anniversary of our little family came and went.
And how Mr Bird is the best thing that has ever happened to me and I thank heavens every day that I married that man.
Not to mention the fact that he makes me so much better than I could ever be on my own.
Before we were married I told him on several occasions that he should not marry me because it was painfully obvious that I had no clue how to be a good wife or mother.
He insisted that I would do a good job. I don't really know that I'm doing that great of a job, but I sure do love my role as Mr Bird's wife and being the mom to the most fantastic kids on the planet.
I have wanted to blog about Spring and the return of the fairy dust days.
My kids are all outside at this moment playing in the magic as it floats in the sky, filling the air with sheer wonder.
Not to mention Mother's day and Father's day.
I have wanted to blog about our weekly hikes in our gorgeous Utah mountains.
I never knew I could love an inanimate object like I love those mountains.
I love to hear my kids laugh and play with their cousins as we tread onward and upward.
Their laughter seems magical as they run and jump through the thick trees and climb huge rocks.
I have wanted to blog about the newest addition to our little family.
We brought home our very first K-9.
He's a cute 9 month old Beagle.
I have never had a dog of my own and am excited and nervous at the same time.
It seems like one more creature to worry over and take care of.
Why is it I like taking care of small things so much?
Babies, apples, fruit trees, chickens, turkeys and now dogs apparently.
So far he's been a really good dog.
It does my heart good to see my little boys running around and rolling in the grass with their cute and snugly pup.
Now we just need to agree on a name...
And last but not least, I have wanted to blog about the fact that I don't think I could be any more happy if I tried.
I am truly blessed to have the life and family and home that I do.
I believe that I live on just the exact perfect spot on the whole green earth.
I really do feel as if my life is practically perfect in every way.
*insert cheesy grin*
A fantastic husband, 5 adorable children and now a little tail wagging dog, what more can anyone ask for?
Well, maybe just one more baby, but we'll let Mr Bird have a year or two before we bring that up again.
;)

Scarred for Life

I over heard Doodle and Beano and Dubs talking at the kitchen table the other day.
Their conversation went something like this.
Beano: When I grow up I'm going to have 10 kids.
Dubs: When I grow up I'm going to have 100 kids, I'm going to need a really big house!
Doodle: I'm only going to have 2 kids; do you know how hard it is to push babies out?!?! (sounding completely appalled)
She went on to explain that she wants 2 kids , preferably twins (so she only has to go through labor one time), so that they will not be spoiled and mean.
I think it may have been a mistake for me to let her be here for Little M&M's birth.
I think she may be scarred for life.
Plus I think she's one smart cookie, why didn't I think of that plan 3 children ago?
Not really though, I would not trade any one of them for all the riches in the world.
They are so good (most of the time) and I can not imagine my life without any one of them.
Even Little M&M has worked her way so deep into the fabric of our lives that it seems she's always been a part of us.
When I was on the phone with my grandma (Little M&M's name sake), telling her of Little M&M's birth she said, "I think Heavenly Father tricks us into having more babies. None of us would do it more than once if we were in our right minds."
I think she may be right, at least Doodle thinks so!

My Sanity...Hanging by a Thread

The count down is officially on.
I am officially 3 weeks away from my official due date.
That means I have an official reason to be grumpy, right?
Well, even if my reason is not official, I am.
Grumpy that is.
Maybe grumpy is not the right word.
More like irritable.
More like, "Don't look at me or I might snap your head off!"
I am trying really hard to stay calm and carry on, but it's getting increasingly difficult.
Especially at church or anywhere else in public.
People see me coming and their faces change.
I watch their eyes widen as they follow my belly.
When they do make contact all they can think to say is, "When are you due?" or
"Look how big you're getting, you must be due any day!"
It takes all my will power to not scream at the nice old ladies, "NEVER! This baby is NEVER coming out, EVER! I'm doomed to stay like this for what seems like FOREVER!"
or
"I have been telling you for the past 5 months the same exact date, it realy has not changed. And besides, I never deliver before my dute date so it just might really be 5 WEEKS instead of 3."
or
"I have no idea when this baby is coming out of me, I wish it were up to me and I could give you a real answer."
or
"STOP STARING AT ME!"
I think I was asked when this baby is coming no less that 30 times this weekend.
Maybe I should start wearing a sign that says my due date and post it to my belly so people don't have to ask.
You know, like the little count down thingy I have on my blog.
Genius! I could make a million dollars with this idea.
Some sort of digital pregnancy count down thingy so people can stop torturing us pregnant ladies.
And it can scroll through other important messages like:
"I know I look like a swollen blob, but that does not give you an excuse to look at me!"

I am very aware that I sound like a 3 year old, thank you very much!
I guess the Sunbeams I teach are rubbing off on me.
OK, I may be exaggerating a little.
But I do hate this part because it is like people must constantly remind me that I still have 3-5 more weeks (let's be realistic) of bladder squishing, crazy dreams at night, bloatedness.
All the while I can feel this little one all wriggly and I know there's a beautiful baby in there and all I'm dying to do is hold it and kiss it and nurse it.
It's just so close, yet so far.
I really hope my sanity can hold out for another few weeks.
I may just decide to not leave the house again until the blessed day.
Heaven knows I have enough nesting to do to keep me good and busy until then!

The Circle K

"Strange things are afoot at the Circle K..."
(name that movie)
Or should I say, strange things are afoot the the Weavers!
Let me give you a little background.
Baby Cakes (whose not a baby anymore) is always telling Mr Bird and I (and anyone who will sit still and listen) all about his "friends".
I assumed they are imaginary since he has yet to have a play day at a friends house without mom.
He's always saying things like, "I do math at my friend's house." or "My friend let me play with his motorcycle when I was at their house."
When we ask him about said friends he tell us they live in his secret lab, and apparently there are millions of them and they come in all kinds of colors.
It's a well known fact that his "secret lab" is a space under the bushes in the side of our yard that the kids hide out in during the nicer days when the sun is shining.
A while ago he started saying things like, "One of my friends died tomorrow."
(tomorrow is the word he uses for any reference to time, weather it be yesterday or next week or last year.)
Then he started telling me that the ghosties let him play with them and that the ghosties were his friends.
I know, weird right?
So what do you think, little kid with a great imagination or do I need to be worried?
Well, I have not been too worried, until this morning.
We were starting our morning devotional to get our school day going when all of a sudden there was a noise upstairs in the bathroom that's getting a face lift.
I looked around the room to see who had snuck out and was upstairs.
All of my children were looking at me with wide eyes.
I listened more closely.
It was music.
Mr Bird and I had done some work on the bathroom last night and had left a radio plugged in.
Spontaneously, it turned on and was playing Cold Play for our listening pleasure.
I sat there in stunned silence for a few moment, trying to rationalize what had just happened.
No logical explanation came to mind.
Then I thought of Baby's ghosties.
Could it be?
Then get this!
Just as I started typing this very post my Internet browser turned off.
No warning, nothing, just poof!
All that was in front of my face was my cow screen saver.
Luckily, Blogger had saved my draft (most of it) and I was able to click on Firefox again and continue my post.
If the radio were not enough, the Internet has me really freaked out.
So help a girl out, what explanations could there be for these erratic occurrences?
My imagination?
Baby's ghostie friends?
Want to know something else weird?
I just noticed this week that the convenience store near our home is a Circle K.
Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do!
(Twilight Zone theme music playing in my head)

Of Men and Angels

When I was in Jr. High and High school I walked home from school every day.
That does not seem that uncommon, right?
The thing is, I walked 3 miles in blistering heat, rain, and even hail storms a time or two for 6 straight years (starting at 12 years old).
I was not one of those kids whose parents bought them a car at 16.
I was lucky if I had an umbrella.
I did have a job later in high school, but the money was spent helping my mom with rent and utilities on our tiny 2 bedroom apartment.
There was no extra moo-la for a car plus insurance and gas.
No matter the weather, I walked.
For the most part I enjoyed my walks.
I enjoyed the smell of the air when fall came.
I loved shuffling my feet through the fallen leaves scattered on the sidewalks.
I enjoyed smelling the smoke being sent up in big billows from the homes in the neighborhoods when winter came.
I enjoyed watching the dogs in the back yards yip at me from their 10x10 fenced yards.
Sometimes I just liked to be in the sunshine and watch the puffy clouds go by.
I enjoyed the uninterrupted silence and the chance it gave me to dream about my future.
What can I say, I've always been a dreamer.
It gave me a sense of independence and hope for my future.
There were many times in my youth, including my alone time on my daily walks, when I felt I had angles literally following my every foot step.
They seemed so close some times that I felt I could just turn around and start talking to them, yet I knew no one was there.
Even typing this now, over 15 years later, brings back the same feelings I had back then.
The town I grew up in is one of the worst in the entire country, as far a crime rates.
Yet, as a teenager I did not know that.
I do know that on several instances strange men in unfamiliar cars stopped and pulled up along side me, offering me a ride.
I did what the text books say and avoided eye contact and kept walking.
That worked for all but one guy. He was relentless and seemed bent on me getting in his car.
It came to the point where I stopped walking and entered the side yard of one of the houses in the neighborhood to get away from him.
I was praying no one was home, which ended up being the case, thank heaven.
I waited in that strangers back yard until the car finally sped away.
I think I walked faster the rest of the way home that day than I ever had in my entire life.
I have often wondered what could have happened that day if he had not left.
My mind does not like to go to that place.
Last night I was browsing the Internet and I was curious about the crime rate in our local area.
I found some crime reports on the Internet and was actually shocked at how high the rate here is.
I had considered our area pretty quiet.
Then, I went to the crime reports for the town I grew up in.
I found some daunting facts.
It turns out, and I quote, "This city is safer than 2% of the cities in the US."
Talk about bottom of the barrel.
It also says if you live in Stockton you have a 1 in 63 person chance of being a victim of violent crime.
But this is the one that nearly scared my socks right off.
Every year in my beloved home town there are a whopping 407 crimes per square mile.
These stats made my new place of residence seem like utopia.
And to think, I walked thorough 3 of those miles every single school day of the year for 6 years.
OK, that's not true, on the rare occasion I had some spare change I rode the city bus.
But I can honestly say I think I was better off walking.
And yet not a hair on my head was ever harmed, scared to death a few times, but never did anything bad ever happen to me.
So about those angels I was talking about.
I used to think maybe I was a little crazy for thinking I had angels in my midst.
Now, I realize that may have been the only way I ever made it though all those years unscathed.

Stream of Consciousness

I have hundreds of random thoughts going on in my head this morning.
I think this calls for some serious bullet points.

• I put a pregnancy count down thingy over on my side bar. All the cute mommy blogs have them.
• I can't decide if I like it or if it's going to drive me crazy over the next seemingly endless 75 days.
  
• 75 days!! That's still so far away. *sigh*
• It'll probably be even more for me though, like 85 if I'm being realistic. I'm not one of those women who goes into labor even a minute before my due date.
• Why is it that as soon as the 3rd trimester hits I feel absolutely enormous? It literally happens over night.
• Are you tired of hearing about this pregnancy yet?
• But guess what? All in all I have really enjoyed being pregnant, I almost don't want it to end.
• Except that I really want to hold my baby.
• Do you think the kids will be mad if I don't share?
• Can you tell how conflicted I'm feeling?
• In other news, I have been sewing and crocheting up a storm over here. I just can't sit still.
• I crocheted the cutest little baby sweater.
• It's brown. If my baby's a girl I'll add little pink flower buttons and attach a crocheted flower to the lapel. If it's a boy it gets little tan buttons.
• I can't wait to put it on my baby.
• In yet other news, the kids have made an indoor mailbox. They write each other letters and leave them in there to be found by their siblings.
• It's the funnest thing to see their letters. I have even received a few.
• School is starting late today because Doodle's still in the shower and I'm blogging. :)
• After school we're headed to Wild Wednesday at the nature center. On the program today is Eagles in Winter.
• I'm sort of obsessed with eagles, they are so majestic and bold.
• I plan on finding out today where they nest in the winter (I know it's somewhere in our mountains) and taking a trip to see them in their natural environment next week.
• We'll bring binoculars and trail mix and have a good old time.
• Oh, and snow pants and boots and maybe even our sleds.
• Anyone want to join us?
• I have been craving roast beef and red potatoes for a week.
  
• I finally bought one, but can't make it until tomorrow. My mouth is watering at the thought.
• What's your favorite way to make roast beef?
• Winter is starting to wear on me.
• I am really missing hiking in the mountains and walking along my river pathway.
• And the sunshine, I miss the sunshine.
• And friends. I miss play dates at the park.
• Anyone want to plan an indoor play date? You can come with your children and destroy my house while us big people have some much needed grown up conversation.
  
• Anyone up for a sewing day? I still have lots I want to get done in the next 85 days.
• See? Very random today...
  

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Mr Bird and I belong to a couples book club.
We meet once a month (for over 3 years now) and have a pot luck dinner and discuss fabulous works of literature.
We've read Shakespeare and Dante and C.S.Lewis, among many, many others.
This month we decided on a light, fun read.
It was Mr Birds turn to pick and we had listened to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with the kids quite some time ago.
It turns out the book is ever so much better than the movies (imagine that!).
There are little pearls of wisdom that were far before their time.
Take the Oompa-Loompas songs for instance.
In the books they have morals for each of the greedy, naughty children.
My favorite by far was their song for Mike Teavee.
Read the words.
And keep in mind Roald Dahl first published this in 1964.
As you read, think of how much more meaning it has in today's world filled with video games and texting and ipods and iphones and wiis and all the other mindless gadgets we have invented to take away from letting children be children.

"Mike Teavee..."

(from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory)

"The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set–
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotized by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all the shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink–
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSES IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK–HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY...USED...TO...READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic takes
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy–Winkle and–
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How The Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole–
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks–
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something good to read.
And once they start–oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hears. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.
P.S. Regarding Mike Teavee,
We very much regret that we
Shall simply have to wait and see
If we can get him back his height.
But if we can't–it serves him right."

If you want to read all of the Oomp-Loompa's songs (which I highly recommend) go here.

I Need One of Those

Image stolen from Lara

The week before Christmas I went out to lunch with a friend of mine, Lara.
Her oldest daughter came to my house and watched my children.
Her oldest son, aka Muscles, came with us.
He did not sit and eat with us though.
(Don't worry we fed him pizza before we left)
So what did he do while we enjoyed a quiet table for 2 and over an hour of uninterrupted mommy talk?
He took his new born baby brother and walked around the gift shop and surrounding areas so his mom could enjoy her lunch.
Just as we were finishing our meal the baby woke up, so Muscles brought him to their mom.
We then left the restaurant and stopped for gas on the way home.
Muscles took his mom's credit card and hopped out of the nice warm van and into the frigid winter air.
He proceed to pump her gas while we continued to chat away all nice and cozy in the heated van.
The thing is, she did not even have to ask him to do that. We pulled up and he just did it.
Then we decided to stop at Costco for a few last minute Christmas items.
The baby was hungry so Muscles grabbed the shopping list and headed inside.
We sat in the van while the baby nursed and we had even more adult conversations.
When the baby was done eating we went in Costco to find Muscles with a full cart all ready to check out.
We grabbed a few samples and headed to the checkout stand.
We were there for less than 10 minutes.
My jaw wanted to just hit the ground.
This man child is only 12 years old.
He acted more like an adult.
I was so amazed at how helpful and competent we was.
And he did it all so willingly and happily.
I need one of those in a bad way.
It was like having a personal nanny and personal shopper all in one.
We just sat back and enjoyed the afternoon.
So I have been thinking a lot since our day out.
I need my children to be just like The Lazy Organizer's children.
And I am starting to train them NOW!
I have decided that the next time we go to Costco I will give them each a list of things to get. I'll walk up and down the main isles and let them go get the items from whichever isles they are located and bring them to the cart. This way I can watch them the whole time and they learn to be my personal shoppers.
That way, when they're teenagers they'll be ready to go in and fill my cart and all I'll have to do is go in to pay.
Plus I think Abby's old enough to learn to pump gas, don't you?
I have been thinking about all the little things I do day to day that the kids could be doing.
Sometimes I tend to be a control freak and have to do it all myself, the right way!
But then I started thinking, what is that teaching my children?
It's teaching them to sit back and have meals served to them 3 times a day 7 days a week.
I have always liked cooking, so I don't mind that one at all, but I really want to teach them to love it as well.
Even Mr Bird says he can't cook with me because I just take over and have to do everything my way.
Some how I have to figure out how to let my kids take over some of the kitchen responsibilities.
Sure they do their chores and school work on a daily basis, but there are so many more things I could be exploiting from my children:).
I need to hang out with Lazy much more often and see how she developed these habits in her children.
Maybe I should just move in with her for a few weeks!
I'm sure she would not mind training my children right along side hers, right?

A Change of Heart

Things are changing around here.
Suddenly I am not so impatient about finding out what this baby is.
I am content.
It was a slow process starting after that last ultrasound when all chance of finding out where gone with the wind.
Maybe it's because I have some really , really cute boy and girl blankets made and ready to go.
I am crocheting a blessing afghan that I will add either pink or blue ribbon to once the baby comes.
I have been scouring crochet website and finding all sorts of cute boy caps and headbands for girls.
All I can say is that I'm going to have baby gifts coming out my ears once this is all over with.
(But only for those people having the opposite gender as me! LOL)
I am having so much fun.
I am happy to sit and sew and dream as this little one tries to break through my skin.
I have come to a place of total acceptance.
I love this little baby so much, it's really hard to explain.
It really does not matter to me if it's a boy or if it's a girl.
Plus, as time goes on and my belly grows bigger and bigger it's really fun to see people's reactions when I tell them we're not going to find out what we're having.
Some people are totally mortified.
They can not think of anything worse than not knowing (OK, I admit it, I used to fall into this category:)
Then there is the older generation who feel as though they have an instant bond with me because, "In my time we had no choice, we HAD to wait."
And wait they did.
Granted, even the boys wore dresses back then. But hey, is all comes out in the end.
There are even some people who think it's cool that I'm waiting. I get things like, "That's neat, nobody does that anymore!"
I'm sure they are really thinking, "That's weird!"
But then again everyone already knows that I'm just about as weird as they come.
I have decided to embrace my inner weirdness and just go with it.
I think I'm to the point now that I'm having so much fun (and I only have 12 more weeks left) that you could not pay me to find out what this baby is.
I am beginning to think it's really fun to torture the people around me as well.
My sisters for example, want me to find out and just tell them, just so they can plan a little.
"We will just not tell Mr Bird!", they say.
Before I have to admit I was really tempted to do that, but not anymore.
I don't know why this sudden change, but I am just happy to enjoy the last part of this pregnancy and dream about this little one.

My Aching Heart

Lately my heart aches more that it ever has my whole entire life.
I can hardly stand it any more.
(This is where I start whining...again.)

Anytime I eat, the pain starts filtering in.
It's just one little twinge of pain to begin with.
Then the pain spreads.
Soon my whole chest feels as though it is on fire.
It hurts to breath, let alone hold myself upright.
I guess it's the pregnancy heartburn.
I don't remember it being this bad with any of my other children, especially this early in the pregnancy.
But I'm trying to be optimistic here.
So maybe this is really a good thing.
The heartburn makes sure I don't ever over eat.
The heartburn hates sweets, of any kind.
This is the first time in my life that I could (and do) pass on chocolate (but only sometimes).
Plus it makes sure I don't eat any scrap of food after 7pm.
Night time snacking has vanished for me.
The good news? Perhaps I will not gain 500 pounds before this little one makes its grand entrance into the world.
So I want to know, if I'm not eating pounds of chocolate by the week, why are my cheeks growing disproportionately large (both pair)!

My Obsession

Can you tell I'm obsessed about this baby's gender?

Well, I am.
I have looked into every old wives tale in the book.
The Chinese calendar says it's a girl.
Did you even know the Chinese have a calendar to predict the baby's gender?
I guess if there's anyone more obsessed with gender, it would be the Chinese.
It calculates the mothers age at conception and the lunar month during which she conceived.
See?
Makes total sense to me.
But then I have friends who practice foot zoning (don't ask).
One of them looked at my ankles and told me it was a boy.
Then there are all the online quizzes.
Take your wedding ring and dangle it with a piece of thread over you belly.
If it swings in a circle, you are having a girl, but if it swings back and forth it's a boy.
Yes, I actually did this!
The verdict?
Both.
I did it more than once to be sure of the results and it was different every single time.
If the heart rate is over 140 it's a girl.
At my last check up the baby's heart was going faster than Speedy Gonzalez.
At a whopping 160 it must be a girl, right?
Then there's the whole if you're carrying high it's a girl, but if the baby is really low it's a boy.
I have all kinds of issues with this one.
How can you tell if you're carrying low or if your uterus is just sagging to your knees (along with everything else) because this is your 5th child?
So ya, I'm low. I guess it must be a boy.
There is even a question about the hue of your urine.
Huh?
I really did not know how to answer that one.
I guess it depends on how much I've had to drink that day.
I love the question about if you feel more attractive or less during the pregnancy.
I actually laughed out loud.
There's an old wives tale that says it's a girl if you look less attractive because the little girl steals her mothers beauty.
Really?
Are they serious?
If that's the case I must have 5 girls stuffed in there.
I look tired and puffy all the time.
I don't even look good with makeup on anymore.
Forget about even having the energy or desire to put makeup on.
My cheeks are starting to look like a Cabbage Patch doll.
And it's only going to get worse during the next 17 weeks.
I always look like an over stuffed turkey by the time the baby comes.
Even with my boys.
Then there are questions about position and the type of undies the father sports.
yada, yada, yada.
At the end of the quiz the all knowing world wide web gave me a 67% chance of having a girl.
Pretty funny considering that just the fact that I'm pregnant, I already have a 50% chance of having a girl.
Not that convincing if you ask me.

Long story short, I can't believe any of it.
I do, however, have an appointment for my very last ultrasound of the entire pregnancy tomorrow morning.
The fact that an ultrasound tech will be looking directly at my little one and all it's little systems is making me antsy.
She will know my baby's gender.
SHE WILL KNOW!
No guess work, it'll all be in black and white, clear as night and day right in front of her face.
It is going to take all the will power in the universe for me to not peak.
Darn you Mr Bird and that stupid agreement!!!
What was I thinking?
I have talked to lot of women who have decided to not find out what they were having and they tell me how much fun it is.
I think they mean it's fun AFTER the baby gets here.
Because honestly, the waiting may just kill me.
One of them never found out with any of her children (she has 5) and said you could not pay her to find out, she likes the surprise.
Well, I've got news for you Mr Bird, I AM NOT THAT WOMAN!

Nevertheless, I am a woman of my word.
(maybe)

It's a Funny Thing

Time, it's a funny thing.
Sometimes it seems as if life is zooming by at break neck speeds.
You look at your baby girl and realize she has been here nearly 9 whole years.
That's more than twice as long as high school.
And high school seemed to last FOREVER.
Yet, those 9 years seem to have gone by in the blink of an eye.
Some weeks have barley begun before you are in the weekend again, regardless of weather or not you got all of the items on your to do list completed.
Then there are weeks that drag by, every hour seems to last a whole day.
Then there is pregnancy time.
It's a whole other ball game.
In "normal life" time 18 weeks would fly by and spring would be here tomorrow.
But in pregnancy time 18 weeks may as well be 18 years.
I feel like this baby is never going to be born, like it's just some sort of fantasy.
I feel like the weeks take years, slowly ticking away.
I kept thinking the holidays would speed things up and that Christmas would be here before I could blink, but not this year.
Time is like slow, sticky molasses to me right now.
I suppose I should just enjoy it for once.
I should just enjoy my kids right here where they are and be glad they are not growing so fast, at least for the next 18 weeks that this time warp lasts.
Because we all know that once pregnancy time is over, the post pregnancy time flies by at triple speed.
Before you can even take a hot shower you look down and you have a 1 year old.
Time, it's a funny, funny thing.
And this week, it's torturing me! I hope I can keep my sanity for the next 18 painful, deliriously slow weeks.

True Confessions of a Stay At Home Mom

• When the boys are driving me nuts and I don't have anything else for them to do I put them in the tub, just to get them out of my hair (plus they can always use a bath!)
• I have a secret chocolate stash that the kids have no idea even exists
• Plus every time I go grocery shopping with out any kids I buy a candy bar or some other treat and eat it all on the drive home, then I hide the evidence
  
• My favorite lunch is cranberry pecan salad with feta cheese (even though I'm not supposed to eat soft cheese while I'm prego)
• Sometimes my kids make me laugh so hard I pee a little in my pants (darn pregnancy bladder)
• I wait until I have a huge mountain of laundry before they get folded and put away
• When Mr Bird gets home from work I am more than happy to let the kids torment him the rest of the evening
• What would I do without Mr Bird
• Sometimes I take my kids to the library for chess club just so I can see that other people really exist
  
• I secretly like it when I see other people's children being naughty in public
• Mine are never naughty in public, only at home (hahahahaahahaha, I kill myself)
  
• Park days save my sanity (it's going to be a very, very long winter)
• Every time I get pregnant inside I am so excited that I don't have to watch my weight (at least for a few months)
• My desk is the messiest place in the whole house
• I need to stop telling all my deep dark secrets
• Truth is, I love being a mom, wholes in the couch and all!
  

The Calm After the Storm

We all survived the couch incident.
After a few hours to cool off and time to re-asses the damage and reading the sage words of advise from my wonderful blogosphere friends, I realized it was not the end of the world after all.
Beano has been justly dealt with.
We had a nice long talk about taking care of the things God has given us and just what it takes to get those nice things.
There were strict consequences put in place.
Long term consequences.
The damage will not just disappear.
We will not cart away the damaged couch and magically replace it with a new one.
We want him to know that his choices have permanent consequences.
This will not just go away just because we throw some money at it.
So, we have opted to repair the damage the best we can and live with a scarred couch.
Plus what's the point of getting nice couches when the kids are still little? There will be plenty of time for that when the kids are much, much older and more responsible. So what if that's still 15+ years away!
Mr Bird and I hugged Beano and told him that we still love him.
He is after all, our only little Beano.
During the whole thing Beano did feel really bad.
He looked like he wanted to cry.
My heart just about broke for him.
Then I started crying again.
These pregnancy hormones have got to give it a rest already!

Multiple Choice

What would you do if your 7 year old Heathen did this to your leather couch?

a. Beat him to a pulp
b. Put him in time out for the rest of his life
c. Scream at him until you're blue in the face
d. Lock yourself in your bedroom and cry like a baby

While none of these reactions seem rational, a part of me wanted to do all of the above.
But instead I chose d
Then I called Mr Bird for his counsel.
He told me not to let my pregnancy hormones get too out of control (as I sobbed into his ear piece) and we'd talk to Beano when he got home from work.
So for now he knows something is coming, he just doesn't know what yet.
And quite frankly, neither do I.
How is a parent to respond?
I know it's only a couch, but come on, in reality it is a big deal.
The tear is right on the middle cushion, when we sit on it now it will only stretch and get worse.
Then it's only a matter of time before little fingers start pulling at the exposed stuffing.
It's ruined, completely worthless now, the whole couch.
And what do you do when it's a part of a 4 piece set.
Basically the whole living room set is ruined, totally destroyed.
I can not be the only person in this house trying to take care of our things.
Don't even get me started about what they did on Saturday concerning a box of apples.
I don't want to live in a dump (I had enough of that as a child), but it seems like everyday our kids are trying their darndest to destroy everything we own.
OK, I may be letting my emotions get the best of me and I may be exaggerating just a little.
But really, how am I supposed to shower without the house falling down around my ears?
What can they demolish in the 30 seconds it takes me to empty my bladder?
I'm afraid to find out.
It's like they wait for the moment my eyes wonder away for 2 seconds and something else is drenched with water or scratched or broken.
I am seriously going to loose it.
I am even temped to send them to public school just so I can have a moment of peace, not worrying about the house falling to the ground because I decide to check my e-mail, like every other mother in America gets.
Then I could clean my house in the morning and it might stay that way for 4 whole hours.
That is music to my ears right now...

I bet you're wondering what he used to gouge my couch beyond repair?
Yup, that tiny thing.
It's the blade from a hand held pencil sharpener.
Yesterday Doodle was sharpening a pencil and the little screw worked its way out and the blade went flying. We looked high and low, but it was nowhere to be found.
Well, I guess Beano found it this morning.

So, seriously, I need advise.
How is a parent to respond?

p.s. I really am temped to drive them to the local elementary school in the morning and enroll them all. Please, someone talk me out of it!