It's great to be Eight!

I just cannot believe I have an eight-year-old. In our church, being eight-years-old is a REALLY big deal. When your are eight-years-old, you are old enough to understand the difference between right and wrong and ready to decide for yourself if you want to be baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We call eight “the age of accountability”. (Sounds intense doesn’t it?)

Lorien has been anticipating her 8th birthday all year long! Especially since she has seen her church classmates get baptized one after another. Finally, it was her day!

I worried about her understanding the decision to be baptized. I wanted her to choose for herself not just because it was what her parents said she should do. The Monday before she was baptized we had our last family home evening just for Lorien. We talked a lot about baptism and what she thought about being baptized. When we were done I felt really good. I could tell Lorien was making this choice because she wanted it for herself and because she understood as much as she could about being baptized.

Her baptism was beautiful. Lots of our friends came to see her special day. We are very proud of her decision to be baptized.

She is so beautiful.

Oh hey. Did you notice Lorien's wicked black eye? A week before her baptism she tried to knock down a door jam with her forehead. No major harm was done but over the week her bruise crept its way down her face and settled around her left eye...nice...

A Very Happy Birthday to My Babes...

I am pretty sure I am not the first Mother to ever feel this way about her children.

I am pretty sure if Eve was a sassy-momma-blogger she would have sent similar sentiments about Cain and Able out into the internet universe. (Maybe just Able, no--Cain too...)

I am pretty sure all of my Mom friends will skim over this post saying "Uh-huh, yep, me too." to all of my gushing.

And I am pretty sure the children I want to read these thoughts wont--at least not for a few more years.

All the same, I cannot help myself. I've made amazing children and I love them at a level that my feeble grasp of language cannot properly describe.

Since I cannot pull you into my soul and let you experience first hand what it feels like to love my children a few photos and lame thoughts will have to suffice.

They are pretty darn cute--huh?

Most of the time they are really good friends.

I am amazed every time I look at them and cannot help but think: "Who is your Mother? Wait--what--ME?"

Happy Birthday Lorien and Wyatt. I love you, oh so very much.

You make me insanely happy (and some times just plain old insane).

"Who is your Mother? What--really--still me? I am such a lucky girl."

Stanford vs Oregon...

GO...STANFORD! (repeat as many times as necessary)

I think this will be the last Stanford football game I attend in person for a while. My pregnant body just cannot handle hanging out on plastic bleachers these days. Despite the extra padding I provide physically, it is not enough for my butt when faced with a three hour sit-down.

If this is going to be my last game it sure was a great one to end on. Oregon was leading the Pack 10 at the start of today's game. They just came off a win over USC...they were looking tough.

Stanford came out strong and lead the entire game but Oregon kept coming back, almost returning touch down for touch down. Even when we were ahead by 20 points no one felt confident in the security of a win. Finally, after a couple of good drives on our part, several missed passes on Oregon's part and two eternal ball placement challenges...we won the game!

Did you know Batman is a Stanford fan? Well--this serious fellow is actually Bruce Wayne--and he is a Stanford fan. Don't blow his cover. Did you also know that my 8 year old needs braces? If we ever hit the big time our orthodontist is going to be one happy man...

The fans rushed the field (the stadium security guards surrounded the goal posts). Will took Lorien and Wyatt down into the crowd where they got to high-five a few players and see cheerleaders up close. Clare and I went down to the field but stayed in the opposite end-zone and away from the crowd.

GO...STANFORD! (repeat)

Happy Halloween!

Whew! Another Halloween in the books! Two school parties, a church party, a wrestling tournament and trick-or-treating all squashed into a couple of days--perfect.

Happy Halloween!

Halloween Post Edit: Lorien dressed up as a Patch-Work Princess (we made up a story and the costume). She wanted to be a character from a pre-teen television show, iCarly, I said "No-freakin' way. You have to be a princess--again."

Wyatt dressed up as Super Mario. I made his costume too...notice how the pants are too small?

Clare dressed up as Belle. I did not have the energy to make another costume after finishing Lorien and Wyatt's (it is great being the third child, imagine what the fourth will be next year...an 11 month old!). So we borrowed a dress from our friends--Thanks Cherisse and Josey!

Pumpkin Patch...

Clare and I have been doing a home preschool with some friends from church. On Monday we went on a filed trip to the local pumpkin patch.

Clare picked out about half a dozen pumpkins before settling on the perfect one.

The kids insisted on pulling the wagon full of pumpkins--which was fine until they made it to a big down-hill and almost ran over their fearless leader.

Our preschool group.

Clare and Momma.

She's Crafty...

The Pukes and Play mates...

Do you know what is worse than cleaning up Oreo cookie vomit?

Nothing. Nothing is worse than cleaning up Oreo cookie vomit.

Oh, I know there are a lot of real "things" worse than Oreo cookie vomit but on the spectrum of "hurled stuff to clean up" Oreo cookie has every thing else beat.

Want to know how I know? (Of course you do!)

Because two Sunday nights ago my seven year old and five year old each took turns emptying their belly's every twenty minutes for the entire night. They did not have the courtesy to coordinate their efforts so Will and I were popping up out of bed at the oddest intervals to comfort and rinse buckets. Being the smarty-pants parents we are, we gave the kids some Oreo cookies for dessert. So, when the first wave hit--with out warning or buckets--Oreo cookies were first in line. (Are you running to your own toilets to throw up yet?)

Needless to say, we kept them home from school on Monday. By Monday evening they were both fine but we kept them home Tuesday just to make sure. With their health restored the three kids had a blast playing together all day. Lorien orchestrated every game and the younger two fell in to line under her militant direction. They played (of all things) "school". They played "school" for three hours--no exaggeration--I guess they missed real school.

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Lorien made up essay projects for each of the kids to do. She titled their essays: "Drawing S.A" and "Rainbow S.A."

After "school" they opened up the front and back door and the gate to our back yard and spent another hour running laps through the house and yard. I was pretty sure they would be fine for school the next day.

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I love life when they play so well together.

Voices in My Head...

Actually, it is just one voice--my own voice--repeating a growing list of things I need to do in the next 3 minutes:

"Start Lorien on her homework."

"Change the laundry over."

"Take the rotting jack-o-lantern off our back patio and to the trash."

"Go pee."

"Find two dollars for Lorien's field trip tomorrow."

"Turn off the oven."

"Chug some Maalox."

"Find the field trip permission form to go with the two dollars that was due Tuesday."

"Help Wyatt save his Lego Island game."

"Go pee."

These kinds of mental lists often rule my day. Some times they are helpful and some times they make me wish for a lobotomy. Just a quick splitting of my brain hemispheres and maybe I could relax...

When these list become too overwhelming I find myself missing those little moments about my job as a Mom that make my job so great.

For a long time I've said that motherhood is the hardest job I've ever had (true stuff!). It is also the most rewarding job I've ever had, BUT only when I look for the rewards.

So tonight, with the kids finally in bed, I sat down to upload some pictures from our camera. Seeing these pictures helped me remember some of those rewards from the last couple of weeks. These pictures also made me thankful I opted out of that self-inflicted lobotomy I had scheduled for 6:00 this evening.

Watching Wyatt make is own fruit salad. And then (the real reward) when Clare noticed his creation and asked me to make her some, Wyatt quickly saying: "Oh, I made LOTS! You can just have some of mine."

"Why do you keep taking pictures of my fruit salad?" asked the boy after I snapped the fourth shot of him cutting an apple...because you are so darn cute...that's why...and because you wont let me give you kisses any more so I have to take pictures instead...so there!

Or today, in a rare moment of weakness I let the girls wear some of my make-up and clip on earrings. Once they were appropriately adorned and painted they went out in the back yard and sang "Opera" while riding their scooters. And then, (the real reward) calling each other "Princess Pretty" and "Princess Pretty the Second" as they passed.

Ummm--do you hear Cher singing "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves" when you look at this picture? No, just me? Oh well...

Or Clare, who loves to be with her Daddy more than just about anything in the whole wide world. Hanging out with Will while he did push-ups, pull-ups and sit-ups as part of his work out--all the while trying to keep up with her own set of reps. And then, (the real reward again) her honest pride and joy at hearing Daddy tell her: She was the best wrestler girl he knew.

Clare jumping down from our bed (where she did her "work-out") coming to tell me that she is the best wrestler girl.

--Ehem--just one more little reward for me--pertaining to

my job as "wife" not "Mom". Seeing my hot, sweaty and

wicked buff husband after a work out. I am such a lucky girl.

I debated putting this picture up for a while...but I couldn't help

myself, he is too good looking and I am too proud...

Guess Who's Back...

Wyatt the Champion, that's who.

Just look how much taller that other kid is...yep, Wyatt beat the pants off of him...twice. My son has super-human-strength. Congratulations on your first Folk-Style Win Wyatt!

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Dear Cecy,

If I post these pictures...will you stop asking to see a belly shot?

I am not opposed to showing off my pregnant profile. I think I have a pretty cute pregnant body--when it is standing still. I have a long torso and short legs so my belly really does not stick out very far.

But, put this body in motion and all of a sudden I take on the graceful moves of a sea-sick hippopotamus. My belly, while small, still houses a normal sized baby...all squashed up in my ribs with her pointy parts jabbing into my organs. And my legs, while short, struggle to propel all this added mass in any direction.

My hip joints have become play dough by this point in the pregnancy. I am more than hesitant to put all of my weight on just one leg at a time (kind of a necessity in the art of walking). As a most unfortunate result, my only mode of forward progress is a waddling-shuffle.

Slowly, very slowly, I slide one foot in front of the other in a comical attempt to get from point A to point B. As my feet shuffle and my hips waddle the tidal wave of movement ripples upward exaggerating my sway in the body parts further away from my feet and hips. My upper half has no choice but to hold on for dear life and hope I don't end up doing a face-plant on the ground. My head bobbles from one side to the other with a look of sick desperation plastered to my face...it...is...awesome...

So, Cecy, here are a couple of pictures of me and my belly. I took them this week to document my sweet pregnant profile just for you.

I look good, just don't ask me to walk anywhere.

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32 weeks pregnant (the start of the 8th month).