Dinner

Conner ate an entire backyard of snow today, and then wanted to eat the front yard for dinner.

In my book, snow isn't exactly sanitary.

I was about to open my mouth and explain the unhygienic chemicals in the atmosphere that fall to the ground in the particles of snow, when the child inside of me began asking questions.

Questions like:

"What is wrong with eating snow?"

"Why should I destroy my child's snow-eating-innocence?"

and

"When did I loose my ability to enjoy the simple things in life?"

To make a long story short, our family enjoyed a nice large bowl of snow (cultivated by Conner) for dinner tonight. Snow with health-food-store sprinkles on top.

snow ball with no-sugar-sprinkles.
whole wheat pancakes with peanut butter and agave nectar.
apple sauce and calcium powder mixed together.

I will never forget the smiles, the laughter, and the compliments that occurred at the dinner table tonight.

I am learning that family memories are founded upon simple moments when expectations are released, moments are savored, and the imaginative is embraced with an open heart.

"Some day you will be old enough to start [living] fairy tales again.”
― C.S. Lewis

Good Idea, Bad Idea

Good Idea: Teaching your toddler to walk around the house without a bottle in his hand.

Bad Idea: Trading your toddler's bottle for a toothbrush and an empty tube of toothpaste.

Choose Your Love

Conner loves belts.

According to Conner, a belt is the perfect accent for any outfit. Pajamas, athletic pants, and soccer uniforms are simply better when accompanied with a belt. In addition to the belt crush, Conner loves apples with ranch, quesadillas dipped in ketchup, and carrots with jam. Pink is his favorite color. And he likes to sleep with his door closed.


Motherhood bliss, I believe, is wrapped up in the package of childhood self-exploration. Watching my children discover who they are and what they want to become is miraculous. Sorting through the endless possibilities of self, is creation at it's best.


I have a lot of motherhood expectations for myself. There are weaknesses to overcome, moments to remember, and lessons to teach... but above all, I want my children to understand their individual worth. I want my children to know that their worth is eternal. I want my children to understand that their worth is infinite and not based upon social achievements. And I want my children to embrace life with confidence.


Life is full of many possibilities. There are literally millions of talents/activities/careers that provide happiness and joy to individuals all around the world. Finding the courage to embrace your passion in life can be difficult... but so worth the fight.

"Choose your love, and love your choice."
-Thomas S. Monson

Secret Treasures

Conner and Caleb have a secret "Lego shelf" in their closet. A secret shelf that holds little boy treasures of Lego's, soccer trophies, whoopee cushions, and favorite cars. Doors close and hide their special things from the world.


Secrets.
Some are painful... and others are not.
Either way, we hold the good and the bad in our heart and we shut the doors to hide them from the world


Nelson Mandela once said that when we let our light shine, we unconsciously allow others to do the same. Expressing and sharing our secrets, although hard, can strengthen ourselves and those around us.


Six months ago, a friend shared her light with me when she opened her heart and expressed the secrets she had been holding. And as I sat upon my kitchen floor and listened, her light unlocked the door to my heart. A door that has held many secrets captive for a very long time. Secrets that involve intense anxiety, feelings of ultimate inadequacy, and obsessive desires to change who I am. Her words inspired me to embrace my vulnerability and seek help. I found the courage to be completely honest with my Savior and family. I found the courage to change my lifestyle, goals, and habits. I found the courage to begin the fight against the obsessive hurtful thoughts that fill my head. I am grateful for the light that was shared with me.


The Lego's sitting upon their shelf are not being played with. Regular discussions occur about the value of the Lego's and the joy they hold. Trapped toys do not provide many smiles. Despite the constant reminder that toys want to be played with and not locked in a closet, the toys still remain in the closet.


Secrets, when shared in the proper lights have the ability to transform into something beautiful. And maybe, secret sharing is more than exposing painful thoughts, anxiety, or hurtful life events. Secrets, I suppose, are simple moments when the life-is-perfect facade falls and we are completely honest about life and what it means to us.


I am learning that the facade is exhausting... and I no longer have the energy for it. Daily, I am striving to shed my no-longer-secret facade and embrace the fullness of life without it.

Will you join me?

Never Young to Drink from a Carton

First Testimony

The other night we had a little family testimony meeting with the boys. We taught that a testimony is a statement of what you believe.

Conner's testimony went something like this:

"I believe that Jesus loves me. I believe that Colton hurts me and that Caleb punches me. And I believe that I do not like to eat rice for dinner."


Testimonies.... I think we have a little more explaining to do :)

Dragon Schools Need Chiropractors

Once upon a time in a house filled with boys, lived a three-year-old Caleb with a dragon backpack. This three-year-old boy loved to speak - but sometimes his speech came out wrong.

His letter C... as hard as he tried... came out as a P.
"Or" sounds like a "U".
Come sounds like Pome
and "fork" sounds like.... a word I won't say.

Talking school came our way, and the little dragon put on his "packpack." We drove to school, received a yellow homework folder, and sat down to talk with our dragon-school-talking-teacher.

We are working on sounds and words like "butterfly" and "duke" when the Caleb starts moaning, growling, and complaining.

His back... oh it hurts.
"Please fix my back now, Mom." The little boy begs.
I hush the Caleb and inside my brain, I dream of a bribe.
An incredible bribe that would overcome the hurt that resides deep in the little dragon's back.


He begs.
And He begs.
He begs, begs, begs.


I hush and I hush.
No need to call dad.
The chiropractic-dragon-back-hurting-slayer is busy at PhD lab.
Breeding, and feeding, and caring for mice.


He begs.
And He begs.
He begs, begs, begs.


We take a bathroom break.
A walk down the hall, a drink from the fountain, and a change of scene.
The dragon lies down upon the school hallway floor, and continues to beg.
He does not understand what is taking so long.


He begs.
And He begs.
He begs, begs, begs.


Finally, I pretend to adjust my back-hurting dragon boy.
I push on his back lightly... but not hard enough.
He looks up at me with frustration - "come on mom" he says.
I look up and down the hallways... this must look bad.


He begs.
And He begs.
He begs, begs, begs.


Finally, I pick up my boy.
We walk to class.
Assemble our notebooks, our backpack, and coats.
We leave talking school early and we walk to the car.


Now the chiropractic-back-pain-slaying-dad takes Caleb to dragon school.
With an adjustment before... and one afterwards.


Dragon Schools need Chiropractors.
And little boy Caleb needs one-on-one time with his Dad.

I Promise to Love You and Feed You - Forever

In the first few moments I cradled CJ in my arms, I made him a promise.
I promised to love him, and feed him, and support him forever.

I should of thought twice about the "feed you" promise.

On the average day, CJ eats a lot of food.
Four cups of yogurt.
Three scrambled eggs.
Two bowls of cereal.
Pretzels, tortilla chips, and apples.
Grapes, granola bars, and cheese.
The list keeps going....

A couple days ago, Conner brought home an art project from school. A hot chocolate mug with eight marshmallows glued on it. Conner unpacked his backpack and left his food-art-project on the floor.

Not a good idea.

On the hunt for something to eat, CJ spotted the marshmallows.
Quietly walking to his room with the marshmallow paper, he sat down and began eating.
With paper hanging from his mouth, he carefully ate just the marshmallows... and probably a trace of glue.

He emerged from his room, a hero.
And I silently vowed to never take my eyes off of him again.
Dirty dishes can wait.


My friend once told me that my boys need girlfriends. Girlfriends with big kitchens and stocked refrigerators. I think we just need more kindergarten art projects with marshmallows...

Grandma Shand's Funeral

Saturday, February 4th - we met at the Larken funeral home and celebrated the life of my grandma - Naima Gwen Shand.

Grandma was an amazing lady.

I have this obsessive need to analyze everything.
I want to know all of the answers... and I want to know them now. I have the tendency to believe that fun only comes when all of the answers are found.

Grandma always taught me that life can be enjoyed today... regardless of the lack of answers my life may provide. I may not have all of the today and I probably will not have all of the answers tomorrow, or even the day after that. But regardless of the lack-of-answers, I can learn to enjoy today and have fun.

On the day I turned sixteen years old, I was not too excited. I was terrified. I did not want to date, meet boys, or even think about kissing. I was so incredibly scared.

We celebrated my birthday with lunch at the Mayan restaurant. The Mayan has a very South America atmosphere with a rain tropic theme, diving shows, and a waterfall in the middle of the restaurant. As we walked into the restaurant, grandma proceeded to tell me that she had decided to start dating again. She said that after being married for so long, grandpa said she could start dating again. After lunch, grandma kissed every male waiter and half-naked diver. I was so incredibly shocked, embarrassed, and proud.

Grandma always had this amazing talent to help calm my nerves. Stories of cakes being tossed out of windows, bathtubs full of candy, and CD players sitting under organs at church. I am so grateful for the way she calmed my nerves.

Spencer W. Kimball once said that "God does hear and answer our prayers... but it is usually through the life of another that He hears and answers them."

A lot of my prayers were answered by my grandma.. and I am so grateful for her.



Grandma was a beautiful lady who loved the piano. Her enthusiasm for music inspired me to pursue the piano... I loved listening to her play. I will never forget playing the piano with her one afternoon. I was playing the Dream Web by Lorie Line, and as I was playing a very hard section of the piece was coming close. Grandma looked at me and said "hold on, here comes the hard part." I mastered the piece, and I will never forget how proud of me grandma was when I conquered it.

Grandma always had a way of helping me through the hard parts and then smiling with complete joy when I made it through triumphant.

At the funeral, a story was told about my uncle Dean (grandma's brother) and his role as the holder, carrier, and transporter of Grandma when she was a baby. At the end of his talk, he mentioned that his shoulders were always available for Gwen to ride on. As I watched Dean carry the urn containing grandma's ashes... I could not hold back the tears.


Grandma wanted a bag pipe player at her funeral. The music was lovely.




After the grave was dedicated, we were each given a white balloon to release into the sky. Grandma always had a way of making things fun for us... and comforting us when we most needed it.








The last conversation I had with my grandma was the Monday before she died. I was lucky enough to spend an entire day with her... I love that woman. She talked a lot about her favorite television shows, piano, and the importance of finding Jesus.

She said that it is important to seek for Jesus and then wait for Him to come. We can not force him to come to us... rather we have to be patient.


Thank you grandma for being an incredibly wonderful and supportive friend.
I love you.

what are you trying to catch?

One late September afternoon, I took the boys fishing with my dad.

Despite our best efforts, we did not catch any fish.

We did not catch any fish... but we caught a whole lot of fun. We splashed in puddles, played with leaves, tangled grandpa's fishing line, climbed big rocks, kicked rocks, and laughed a lot along the way.

Sometimes I forget to have fun along the way.
I forget to stop and enjoy the pleasure of dipping my feet in the water.

And I become too distracted to enjoy the smiles that come along the way.

Six months ago, our life changed tremendously when my husband decided to go back to school for a PhD. We closed a business, sold a house, and moved away from our friends-that-were-family. My husband now works and attends school full-time, while I stay home with our three boys... and I am so grateful for his hardworking attitude that allows me to stay-at-home.

At times, I confuse what it is that I am trying to catch. I believe the full-time job with benefits, the big pay check, and the steady income is the secret to enjoying life fully.

I consider going back to work.
I beat myself up for not obtaining more than a bachelor degree in psychology...
and I start to lose the joy to the heavy burden of fear and insecurity.


CJ taps my head and says the word "duck"
Caleb says "mom you pretty"
Conner tells me that his favorite part of the day was playing Angry Birds with me


And instantly I am transformed. Reminded that true joy in life is not found in paychecks, money, and gold. Reminded that the true reason for living is to love and be loved.

Life.
This amazing life.
Has so much to offer.
And so many blessings to catch...
if only we are holding up the right net.

"When we seek happiness through accumulation, either outside of ourselves - from other people, relationships, or material goods - or from our own self-development, we are missing the essential point. Completion comes not from adding another piece to ourselves but from surrendering our ideas of perfection."

Mark Epstein, M.D. from The Buddha

Offenses in the Library Bathroom

I am at the library today.

I am at the library with Caleb, CJ, Elsie, and Dana.
Four kids under the age of five... and I am the only supervising adult.

And I love it.


Somehow all four kids fit in my sit-and-ride stroller and we make our way into the library just in time for story-time. We take a seat on our pockets and listen to the librarian explain that story time is a time to sit quietly and listen to stories. She specifically asks all parents with young kids to stay in the back - to minimize any distractions.

CJ - my growling toddler - is a definite distraction. I take the hint and whisper to the kids that I will be in the back of the room. I stand up and pace the back of the room with a heavy-gorilla-child in my arms.

I have paced the back of the room a dozen times, when Caleb comes running at me. The look on his face tells me that he has to go to the bathroom... and he has to go now. We rush to the bathroom that is located at the back of the story-time-area and we are just about to enter when I notice a big note stating that the bathroom is closed during story time.

I take a look at Caleb.
I take a good look into his eyes and I notice that his eyes are filling with fluid.
His iris is practically swimming.... and I know right then and there that this is a bathroom emergency - this kid really has to pee.

I take a look at Dana and Elsie. They are sitting at the very front of the story time circle. I consider interrupting story time (which is against the rules) to grab their cute little hands and lead them to the bathroom located at the front of the library with us... which would probably equate to wet pants for Caleb. But, I also know that leaving the girls alone to take Caleb to the bathroom located at the front of the library - is not an option.

I look at Caleb.

I look at Dana and Elsie.

I adjust the growling toddler in my arms who wants to run free.

I look at the sign on the bathroom door.


Quietly, I open the bathroom door and I venture into the family restroom illegally.
I rationalize that if we are super quiet, our against-the-rules-behavior will go unnoticed.
I really should think twice before I plunge into illegal activities.


I found myself holding Caleb on my thigh with one hand because the toilet is too high while my other hand is assisting the little-boy-who-is-scared-to-aim-on-his-own with his target practice.

CJ is on the ground.
Exploring on his own.
And he is happy.
This kid LOVES the bathroom.

CJ finds the toilet flusher and starts pushing down. Silently, my brain is freaking out about germs and noise and germs. The toilets in this library are loud and I start to consider that perhaps the loud flushing sounds are not helpful to our breaking-and-entering crimes. In an attempt to protect our secret, I stop target practice to move CJ away from the toilet when the urine starts ricocheting.

I move CJ's head out of the way.
I move CJ's head out of the way.
And I move CJ's head out of the way again..

And I realize that my arm is wet, soaked and saturated in urine.
Caleb is somehow still urinating.

Discovering the toilet lid, CJ is now trying to push the toilet lid down and it almost hits Caleb.
With one arm still holding Caleb on my thigh, I am moving CJ's head away to avoid the urine stream while simultaneously pushing the lid away from Caleb's head. Moving and pushing. Moving and pushing. My arm is moving so quickly that the purse strapped on my shoulder almost falls into the toilet.

And I am silently whispering my pleas to "stop it" and "slow down."

Caleb finally finishes his business and CJ is eager to plunge his hand and head into the toilet. I am helping Caleb with his belt with my one dry hand while barricading CJ from the toilet with an elbow.

I have less than ten seconds to wash my urinated-on-hand-and-arm because CJ is now ramming his entire body into the bathroom door... and it is loud.

I grab a towel and dump an entire bottle of hand sanitizer on my arms and hands.
Reminding myself that urine is technically sterile... but the argument does not hold.

I silently acknowledge the significance of their bathroom-is-closed-during-story-time-rule.

We walk out of the bathroom and the signs falls to the ground.
Embarrassed, I pick it up the sign and fasten it to the door again.
And the sign falls again.
I finally fasten the sign to the door and turn to face the crowd - guilty as charged.


And yes.
I enjoyed it.
Because I am doing my best to enjoy my kids when they are little.
Every single-arm-urinated-on moment.