Maybe you would look at me and think I am just a normal gal. But over the last few years I have grown so much-- I'm not taking about when pregnant with triplets, five feet around and tipping the scales at 250lbs. I mean my heart, on the inside, what I can endure, what I am capable of carrying.
I guess I wonder how tough I am now, compared to how tough I was before. I wonder if I could hack it at boot camp.
Could I handle a drill sergent yelling in my face. Well, the kids do it to me all the time and I love them like crazy. Constant yelling and babbling, crying and screaming. Hands outstretched to be carried, demands real or imagined that need to be met, the pressure that comes with saying yes (now I have to facilitate something, pull out paint, crayons, mix cakes and clean -up afterwards, all the while fighting off babies so the girls can have an activity) and weight on my heart that comes for saying no. Babies dropping things, ruining things, climbing on counters, water spills, food fights, food wasting, constantly tripping over little people, little people scrums where they all fall over and cry. My heart could be torn in a thousand pieces if I let it.
Exhaustion. I have been wearied to the very core of my soul. So I wonder, if boot camp might not be a little bit of a break.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Swimming
The pool is 8 blocks away. Only 8 blocks! I require myself to walk it. So, I load the babies, the sunscreen, the puddle jumpers, towels, a change of clothes and diapers, snacks and sippy cups.
I get the bikes out for the girls, sometimes my friend Hannah Lee comes with me or Lucy the neighbor girl or sometimes I go alone.
By the time I have everything loaded into the stroller, there is no room for anything for me. Not even a towel. So, I wear my swimming suit to to walk the 8 blocks to the pool and I wear it home, wet legs slapping together as I cross the road. I'm only mentioning this in case you have seen me, now you know that I am not trying to look like a wanton woman running around in my nothins'.
However, even if I did have room to bring a towel or change of clothes, I probably wouldn't. If I took the time to change, someone would be playing in the toilet of the family changing room, and someone else would be testing the pool/pee wet floor with their tongue. Get into the pool and get home. That's my motto.
I get the bikes out for the girls, sometimes my friend Hannah Lee comes with me or Lucy the neighbor girl or sometimes I go alone.
By the time I have everything loaded into the stroller, there is no room for anything for me. Not even a towel. So, I wear my swimming suit to to walk the 8 blocks to the pool and I wear it home, wet legs slapping together as I cross the road. I'm only mentioning this in case you have seen me, now you know that I am not trying to look like a wanton woman running around in my nothins'.
However, even if I did have room to bring a towel or change of clothes, I probably wouldn't. If I took the time to change, someone would be playing in the toilet of the family changing room, and someone else would be testing the pool/pee wet floor with their tongue. Get into the pool and get home. That's my motto.
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| Triplets are the orange puddle jumpers. Sitting by Wilson is our buddy Hannah Lee. Hannah, sorry I didn't ask your permission to be photographed or posted. How do you feel about being posted on my blog pregnant in your swim suit? I didn't think so. |
Friday, July 12, 2013
Snap Judgement
It is common for us seeing ones attempts at parenting, wow, she is a good mother, or wow bad mommy. I had this experience the other day.
One of the perks of living downtown is that we are a stones throw from lots of wild entertainment. I woke the babies and Hazel up early for such an occasion Nathan was running a race that started around six am. We walked down to cheer him at this finish line, then walk home with him.
While we waited for him near the finish line of a half marathon the crowd was asked by the police to cross to other side of the street. I had the babies in the triplet stroller, Hazel and Claire on bikes. We waited for a break in the racers and I ran across. The girls weren't as quick at gauging their timing as I and they got in the way of a runner. He didn't fall but I saw he was visibly upset with the girls. I felt really bad about my judgement in crossing when I did. In reacting to those feelings, I grabbed Claire while she was still on her bike, picked her up, none too gentle and pulled her bike out of the way of the racers. I did the same with Hazel. I didn't make it look nice, it was clumsy, I was frustrated, embarrassed and sorry. When I dropped Claire back on her bike, I heard a guy yell at me from behind, Hey lady! and Whoa lady! Geez, lady! (I'm not sure I like being called lady even on a good day.)
I felt even worse, but I rallied and in the end, all the cheering the children and I did, made up for any downward dip my emotions experienced about the race crossing.
I sort of wish that instead of saying in our minds a quick judgement, bad mom, or good mom. We could say something that is exactly as we see it, not just a judgement for all time. Wow, that mom seems more worried about the racers feelings than her own childrens' feelings. Or, that mom is acting out of guilt and concern over what just happened with that racer. See, no bad mom here, just a mom that is trying. Like we all are.
One of the perks of living downtown is that we are a stones throw from lots of wild entertainment. I woke the babies and Hazel up early for such an occasion Nathan was running a race that started around six am. We walked down to cheer him at this finish line, then walk home with him.
While we waited for him near the finish line of a half marathon the crowd was asked by the police to cross to other side of the street. I had the babies in the triplet stroller, Hazel and Claire on bikes. We waited for a break in the racers and I ran across. The girls weren't as quick at gauging their timing as I and they got in the way of a runner. He didn't fall but I saw he was visibly upset with the girls. I felt really bad about my judgement in crossing when I did. In reacting to those feelings, I grabbed Claire while she was still on her bike, picked her up, none too gentle and pulled her bike out of the way of the racers. I did the same with Hazel. I didn't make it look nice, it was clumsy, I was frustrated, embarrassed and sorry. When I dropped Claire back on her bike, I heard a guy yell at me from behind, Hey lady! and Whoa lady! Geez, lady! (I'm not sure I like being called lady even on a good day.)
I felt even worse, but I rallied and in the end, all the cheering the children and I did, made up for any downward dip my emotions experienced about the race crossing.
I sort of wish that instead of saying in our minds a quick judgement, bad mom, or good mom. We could say something that is exactly as we see it, not just a judgement for all time. Wow, that mom seems more worried about the racers feelings than her own childrens' feelings. Or, that mom is acting out of guilt and concern over what just happened with that racer. See, no bad mom here, just a mom that is trying. Like we all are.
Monday, May 27, 2013
Darn The French
I recently read a sample of a book called, French Children Eat Everything. I was so inspired by their eating habits, I decided to put some of them into play that very night. I made a really delicious Ratatouille with zucchini and cauliflower, mushrooms, peppers, onions and loads of tomatoes and garlic.
In the french opinion, if your children don't like something, it is because they haven't tried it enough, americans don't let their children try healthy food enough before they give up serving it. We sat down to eat, well some of us did. Hazel was bouncing up and down in panic mode, 'I'm not gonna eat that!' Flapping her hands and grabbing her mouth. Because that behavior is her usual custom for anything without sugar in it, I was undeterred. I turned to the babies, Wilson was lapping it up. Quinn was tentative, James was smearing it all over his tray, he wouldn't even try it. Claire was tolerant.
Kindly, I held James' hands so he couldn't refuse and started feeding him. His reply was gagging and intermittent sharp cries. Quinn started to cry, fearing for James. I plied James with a few more bites.
By the end of the meal, it had escalated to this, Quinn threw up because she was upset for James, James and Hazel were crying because they didn't want to eat it, Claire wet her pants out of some sympathetic reaction to our family crisis and Wilson asked for another bowl.
For right now, just eating around the table without anyone crawling on it or throwing their food is a major victory for us. I chose to be happy with that.
In the french opinion, if your children don't like something, it is because they haven't tried it enough, americans don't let their children try healthy food enough before they give up serving it. We sat down to eat, well some of us did. Hazel was bouncing up and down in panic mode, 'I'm not gonna eat that!' Flapping her hands and grabbing her mouth. Because that behavior is her usual custom for anything without sugar in it, I was undeterred. I turned to the babies, Wilson was lapping it up. Quinn was tentative, James was smearing it all over his tray, he wouldn't even try it. Claire was tolerant.
Kindly, I held James' hands so he couldn't refuse and started feeding him. His reply was gagging and intermittent sharp cries. Quinn started to cry, fearing for James. I plied James with a few more bites.
By the end of the meal, it had escalated to this, Quinn threw up because she was upset for James, James and Hazel were crying because they didn't want to eat it, Claire wet her pants out of some sympathetic reaction to our family crisis and Wilson asked for another bowl.
For right now, just eating around the table without anyone crawling on it or throwing their food is a major victory for us. I chose to be happy with that.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
A Donut to Defend
Quinn eats really slow. She keeps her fingers clean and uses the right utensil for the job. The boys are still holding a fork in one hand while scooping breakfast into their mouths with their hands.
One busy day the triplets were eating donuts in their highchairs. James and Wilson scarfed theirs down. I washed them and set them to play. In a stroke of genius, I handed Quinn a spatula to defend herself against the circling shark brothers eager to cash in on a quick duck and grab. I will not make excuses for myself!
One busy day the triplets were eating donuts in their highchairs. James and Wilson scarfed theirs down. I washed them and set them to play. In a stroke of genius, I handed Quinn a spatula to defend herself against the circling shark brothers eager to cash in on a quick duck and grab. I will not make excuses for myself!
This Is Our House
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| This is the new City Center Provo Temple, it is well under construction. Once it was a historical community hall, then severely damaged in a fire, the church decided to restore it as a holy temple. We walk by it every few days to check out the diggers and see any new progress. This is our temple. It is built with our love for God and our faith. It is a few blocks from our house. When it opens, before it is dedicated, people can walk thru and visit it. You are welcome to come and stay at our house, we will walk over and tour it together! Neither Nate or I want to move until we can walk to our temple! |
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| This Quinny is one pleasant grampa loving kind of girl. (Honestly, it is like Hazel, Claire and Quinn are the triplets and my two boys are just... yahoos.) |
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| Helping with strawberry jam |
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| Least you think it's all tulips and strawberries over here, this is something to ponder on... since the weather is warm and we are not wearing onesies anymore, this duct taping is the pre-nap ritual to assure that no one has to clean up anything nasty after naps and yes, the duct tape goes all around |
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| Raiding Dads closet again. These girls are trouble |
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| Why does everyone have a thing for Quinns pink boots? |
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Girl
Somehow, over the last few weeks a teenage girl fell into our life and began living with us. I don't know how long she will stay. That depends on a judge and a court case and her father in jail. I wouldn't willingly take just anyone into my home. Heather fits us. I have a soft spot for her and I always have.
She is most recently from Oklahoma and has been to 4 different schools in the last year. I enrolled her in her fifth school of the year, as I made appointments with counselors and teachers to get her caught up, her response was, "Sherry, don't worry about it. I'm always like this." Like what? Behind? "Yah."
I found myself wondering what do thirteen year old girls like? What do we even have to interest her? We have no TV, toys or books for her age group. I didn't have to worry long. She now follows me around the house regaling me with tales of her crush at school.
I took her to the library. We loaded up on books. I believe she is proud of her current accomplishments in book reading.
Heather has always lived with cousins and extended family. Ever since I have known her (when she was a little girl living on our street), she was the babysitter at her house, she was in charge of the siblings and cousins while parents worked or drank. She even potty trained them. She often had to stay home from school to tend young ones.
She is a bit of a misunderstood godless misfit. A girl that looks like she belongs with the other gangster kids but only because that what Walmart's selling for clothes, and that's where cheap clothes are bought. But that isn't who she is one the inside. I see her tough guarded facade when she looks at facebook, I hear her calling people names and smirking about her friends. But that isn't who she is. In our home, she is kind, funny, pensive and playful when she wants to be.
She was overwhelmed with some gifts of body lotion and clothes a neighbor gave her. Others have offered to buy her necessities but she wouldn't even know what to do with all the newness.
Hazel and Claire have gathered her right in as a big sister and loved her. We all do. From what she has told me, she is too defiant to live with relatives anymore. I haven't seen it yet, but I may someday. I offer her my trust and love, hoping she will see a better way of life. It has opened my eyes to my own hypocrisies and wastefulness.
Bless her, she helps me with the babies, does what she is asked and reinforces things I am teaching the girls. I am impressed by her. She is a friend to me.
She sleeps on our couch. There isn't a bedroom for her. I wish there was. Nate and I even talked about buying a new house with more rooms if she was to be here long term. We really don't know her future.
She is most recently from Oklahoma and has been to 4 different schools in the last year. I enrolled her in her fifth school of the year, as I made appointments with counselors and teachers to get her caught up, her response was, "Sherry, don't worry about it. I'm always like this." Like what? Behind? "Yah."
I found myself wondering what do thirteen year old girls like? What do we even have to interest her? We have no TV, toys or books for her age group. I didn't have to worry long. She now follows me around the house regaling me with tales of her crush at school.
I took her to the library. We loaded up on books. I believe she is proud of her current accomplishments in book reading.
Heather has always lived with cousins and extended family. Ever since I have known her (when she was a little girl living on our street), she was the babysitter at her house, she was in charge of the siblings and cousins while parents worked or drank. She even potty trained them. She often had to stay home from school to tend young ones.
She is a bit of a misunderstood godless misfit. A girl that looks like she belongs with the other gangster kids but only because that what Walmart's selling for clothes, and that's where cheap clothes are bought. But that isn't who she is one the inside. I see her tough guarded facade when she looks at facebook, I hear her calling people names and smirking about her friends. But that isn't who she is. In our home, she is kind, funny, pensive and playful when she wants to be.
She was overwhelmed with some gifts of body lotion and clothes a neighbor gave her. Others have offered to buy her necessities but she wouldn't even know what to do with all the newness.
Hazel and Claire have gathered her right in as a big sister and loved her. We all do. From what she has told me, she is too defiant to live with relatives anymore. I haven't seen it yet, but I may someday. I offer her my trust and love, hoping she will see a better way of life. It has opened my eyes to my own hypocrisies and wastefulness.
Bless her, she helps me with the babies, does what she is asked and reinforces things I am teaching the girls. I am impressed by her. She is a friend to me.
She sleeps on our couch. There isn't a bedroom for her. I wish there was. Nate and I even talked about buying a new house with more rooms if she was to be here long term. We really don't know her future.
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