Cooking For My Gluten Eaters

I am a disabled gluten chef. Because I can't taste what I am making -because it has flour in it (I can't eat flour- celiac disease) and because I don't want to make it gross, I think, I might, sort of add too much sugar. Sometimes the girls really score. I wouldn't know, I haven't tasted it. It has happened a time or two as I cook with the girls that I make something amazing. The girls go nuts for it, seriously, more, more, more... so usually when N8 gets home I ask him to try it, 'it's really sweet' or 'it's full of sugar' he will say.

Today we made poppy seed muffins for N8 to celebrate the drug test he had to take for work yesterday. I had to tweak and modify the recipe according to ingredients we didn't have. Of the 12 muffins there was one lonely muffin for him to try. I think I made something amazing. But I wouldn't know, I didn't taste it.

It's Never Going to End

James will be 14 year old, playing summer league basketball and I will still be carrying around these darned spit- rags. "Time-out Ref! My son spit up again, let me clean it or everyone will slip."

At a camp out with friends, James will be cooking marshmallows and spit-up all over his sleeping bag and jammies.

At school, I will submissively follow him around cleaning up the spit up he casually and without any warning or guilt leaks down his chin and on his clothes.

Don't spit- up on the piano James!

I am pretty sure when James is 19 years old and leaving on his mission I will still be carrying around these spit-up rags. I will look back as we drive away from dropping him off at the MTC, and say, "Oh, Honey turn around James just spit up again all over his new suit."

Seriously James, you are cute for  baby, really cute, but this spit-up has got to end, honestly you are almost nine months old. The carpet is going to get up and crawl out of this house, it has had enough. So have I. Give it up son, you win, spit up time is over.

Sunday

Our bottle bag is the red croc one. I am so glad I have it, easy to wash and stands all the bottles up steady, 3 in a row so they don't spill. We premake a set of bottles, then have a water bottle and more formula in the bag along with extra onesies, wipes, diapers, small toys, color crayons and paper, fruit snacks, chapstick and gum, somehow I haven't found a spot for my scriptures...odd, but it won't always be that way.

Nathan, the kids and I heading to church. It seems like a lot of work. When a friend of mine had twins (no real health complications) she didn't go to church for about a year. Dear friends at church are willing to hold babies for us, quite often I don't even get one!  A friend of mine Linda, has 4 boys, her youngest is 3 and her children are so good with babies. Marley, Hogan and Beckett all come sometime during church asking to hold or carry the babies to the limo for us. Melissa, a young women also takes babies for us and comes over after school every once in a while to save my bacon. So many others have a season pass to the babies or are frequent fliers, sometimes I feel I have offended someone that wanted a baby and didn't get one, I wish I had more to go around! I will someday miss the big smile and hands outstretched, "do you have a baby for me today?". When the babies are older, I hope I can be that for someone else someday. I am blessed to have so many kind hearts in one place.

At church, I bring my own piece of bread for the sacrament. I can't eat wheat at all and would be sick if I tried so I hold out my bread during the sacrament prayer and from what I understand, it is also blessed. Only I have to keep a wary eye open during the prayer because small busy hands find it the perfect offering and have gobbled it up a time or two. We take the bread to remember Jesus' body and that he sacrificed it for us.

I believe Jesus lived and died for us. I believe there is a plan for each us on this earth. That we can return to live with Heavenly Father again. I know the scriptures are a road map to becoming like God. They give me peace and joyful insight as I read them.

I love Christmas. I love the Savior of the World. I think about his humble beginnings. How it was foretold that he would wear a crown, yet on this earth, the only crown he wore was made of thorns. I wonder if Mary knew as she held him as a baby, that he was the reason, that he would heal her, and all of us. I know he will come again, I love the scripture that says, 'every knee will bow and tongue confess that Jesus is the Christ'. When He comes again He will wear a true crown, He is King of Kings and Lord of Lords. God be thanked for the matchless gift of his son.

Dads Arms

They like to eat in the kitchen while I clean, so they modified their stools to sit and as a table. These two goofballs have the whole world figured out according to Hazel (she is older, so she knows), Amanda my friend says Chance drives her crazy with all of his incessant questions. It scares me that they don't ask questions- they think they've got it all figured out, Why ask a grown- up? What do they know?

I heard this conversation a few days ago.
Hazel and CC are sitting down eating lunch and discussing their usual mindless fluff.
Hazel: What if Dads arms were super long, so long that he could reach us up to outer, outer space... wouldn't that be cool?
CC: Uh-huh.

James and the Big Fat Nose

I saw his nose in an ultrasound. It was squished and flattened, at the time he was baby B. His nose gives him character and charm he is really growing into it. Cute little ski slope nose. I thought CC and Wilson had my nose, til I found these pictures...

Check out that honker. James nose for sure. Sorry kid.

This is not my tongue, I used to have a thing for chewing on moms pink sponge curlers.

That is my tongue, I am not proud of these, I posted these merely so you can recognize what I have risen from. An upstanding citizen that neither rides plastic ponies with her tongue hanging out nor chews pink sponge curlers. I have come so far.

Must Be Hard

It must be hard to be a multiple. People are always looking at you and comparing you to your siblings, she is taller, he has more hair, more teeth, laughs more, cries easier -all sorts of differences. In my high school there was a set of twins, we always distinguished them by the cute one and his brother.

I know this is a little too much skin, but the grandparents dig it

Wilson and James in a rare moment, just staring at eachother

When my children get older, in school, how will it be? I have noticed with the older girls, if it is someones thing -to be a certain way, the other avoids it. CC lives and dies by the the princesses (yuck, yuck, yuck) and Hazel claims she has no interest in them and doesn't like them. But I find her playing with them and dressing up every so often. Hazel loves the physical, any racing, running she loves to compete. I actually think CC has it in her to be a great competitor too but she doesn't even try because Hazel wants it so bad and is so good at it. I wish I could sit down with CC and tell her it is okay to try, that her body needs more practice than Hazel (maybe because she is a giant for a 3 year old and
 growing fast, who wouldn't have a little coordination trouble if that was the case, and CC scooted til she was 19months, she just needs more practice, but it doesn't mean she can't be good if she wants to be.) She gives up easily, oh little sister, please wear blinders, I wish I could blind you from comparing yourself to your older sister, and free you up to the love of trying and failing.

Wilson loves the wipes container. He crinkles it in his hands, rolls on it, stares at it, guards it, lusts after it- generally it is a love affair to be remembered. And why not? The wipes bag is shiny and light blue, when you pat it, it makes wonderful crinkle sounds. Quinn is a girl about town. A few times this week she even crawled out of the room the babies were playing in, once it was to come find me in the dining room, I was so honored. She has fast hands and feet. No little brother can keep up with her, especially when she has her eyes on something of theirs. A few days ago she had her eyes on Wilson's wipes and army crawled over to get them. I started crying for Wilson, he had no defense once Quinny set in. He watched in horror as his beloved wipes were being loved and gummed by another. And when she cast them aside, he was there for them.

Wilson with his second love, the wipes, I am his first

Get a good look, most people complain they never see these babies all together. Here we are having our good morning bottle.

Here are the brothers together some say they look alike others say not. Maybe you will be able to tell better when Wils hair grows in, so far it is growing in like CCs did, slow and in wisps- some things are worth waiting for

Wilsons fruit snack is receding, the Dr said it would take about a year and he would always have a freckle there, but I think it will take a few more years than predicted, My mom always wanted brown haired brown eyed children, she got 5. I got a bunch too.

Snoozing on Grumpy's lap (Wilson)

My aunt has twins. They are beautiful and talented. She has supported and watched as one of her twins got a part in a musical or performance and the other got nothing. They both wanted it. They both auditioned. She without the part, was so cheerful and generous as she watched her sister succeed. I pray as these children grow, that I will be wise enough to know how to handle comparing. I hope we can all cheer for the winner no matter who it is. Can there be healthy competition in a home where everyone is given the full chance to grow and develop? How can everyone have the confidence to try new things, even if they fail?