My Epic Poem

2:45 PM, phone call
House showing at 3:30 PM, Panic!
Still sweaty from Zumba
Bathe quickly, dress children
Scramble around tidying house
3:25 PM, off to the dog park
Can't find dog park...
Puppy panting, whining, and trying to climb on me while driving
Find park, unload car
Excited puppy, chases dog, knocks over son
CRASH!!
Son on ground, crying
Pick up son and comfort
Put son down--bloody forehead
Find drinking fountain, use own shirt to wipe up blood
Can't find sanitizing spray, do find band-aid
Stranger points out blood all over Mommy's face
Does he need stitches?
Attempt to take picture with phone; son still crying
Get picture after several tries and send to Daddy

Decide he does need stitches
4:15 PM, attempt to leave park--now son and daughter BOTH crying
Worst. Outing. Ever.
Load up car
Bug in back seat causes much whining and complaining
Drop puppy off at home
Drive to Urgent Care, frightened son
6:00 PM, two stitches, very brave little boy
Dinner at IHOP
Cinna-stack pancakes for Mommy, YUM!
"Mommy why is there chocolate on your ear?"
Funny how dried blood looks a lot like chocolate

Falling in love again, never wanted to

It's 11:55 PM and I'm exhausted. But my heart is so full right now that I just have to put my thoughts and feelings down. Someone once told me that having a baby is like falling in love for the first time. My experience with having babies couldn't have been further from that despcription. Just now, however, as I snuggled into bed between my two four-and-a-half year old twins, I realized something. I fall in love with them a little bit more every singe day.

Let me back up and tell a little bit more about my story. When I was a teenager, I thought for sure that I'd have a big family. I wanted to have at least six children and I had all the names picked out. Shortly after getting married at the age of 20, however, I began to revise that idea. See, I have a problem conceiving of things that don't exist yet. The idea of bringing children into the world soon came to terrify me. In 2002, I decided that I should start thinking about having a baby even though the timing was terrible and I was afraid. Not long after that I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). Again, even though I was not too keen on the idea of actually creating a child, I felt that I should begin fertility treatments, albeit one small step at a time.  I had no idea how long it would actually take.

In 2006 I was working full-time as a statistician for a small company in Kansas City while my husband was just starting a medical residency in pediatrics. At first, I loved my job. After awhile, though, it started to drive me crazy for various reasons. I knew something had to change. Something was missing, but I was quite certain it wasn't children! Thankfully, my husband had a different idea. In the fall of 2006 I decided to quit my job and focus on getting pregnant. I was kind of hoping it would take several months so I could have some time to relax and prepare. Apparently, that was not in the cards... I got pregnant within one month.

I won't go into the gory details here, but my pregnancy was nothing short of horrific. I essentially spent the better part of eight months on bed rest and made at least three trips to the emergency room. I woke up every day feeling like I was trapped in a nightmare I couldn't escape. In August of 2007, R & L were born just short of 36 weeks gestation. Compared to my pregnancy, the first six months of their lives was relatively smooth and easy. Then the postpartum depression set in. Let's just say that I will not look back fondly on the time span of 2008-2010.

I was bored, overwhelmed, and depressed. I tried going back to work, but that only made things worse. I started to question my faith and my reason for existence. All good Mormon girls grow up being told that the purpose of life is to become a wife and mother and raise a family. Well, I was there and I was absolutely miserable. Granted, I wasn't blissfully happy before having kids, but I at least had periods of happiness and fulfillment. I pulled away from my extended family and started making bad decisions. Finally, at the beginning of 2011, I "came to myself" and realized I needed to put my life back in order.

As a slight side-note, I have to give credit where it's due. Zumba® Fitness changed my life. I got licensed to teach Zumba in 2010 and I finally had a reason to get up in the morning! It still took some time, however, to get everything figured out.

Tonight, my husband is working. Whenever he works all night, my kids like to sleep in my bed with me. So, after an exhausting day, I climbed into bed between the two and them, snuggled up and tried to sleep. L curled her little body right up to mine and I could smell her hair and hear her breathe. I started to say my nighttime prayers when it hit me. THIS is happiness. THIS is why I went through everything I went through. These little people bring me joy and happiness every single day and (I hope) will continue to do so for the rest of my life. THIS is what I was missing back in 2006!

So, here I am. No, my life isn't perfect. I'm actually under insane amounts of stress right now trying to sell my house, raise two active preschoolers, and teach 10 Zumba classes per week. But, every single day R & L amaze me. They make me laugh all day long. They also make me want to yell quite frequently, but there has to be opposition in all things, right? L loves to color and build castles out of legos. She is constantly asking me what different words mean and why things are the way they are. I get a kick out of trying to answer her many questions on a level she can understand. R loves video games and cars. He also loves Zumba music. He cracks me up as we drive in the car and he tries to sing the Spanish lyrics. THIS is what it means to get fulfillment out of life.

Yesterday a friend and I were talking about life's bumps and bruises and the purpose of it all. An analogy that was given at the recent General Conference of the LDS Church came to mind. I would like to share it:

"I was living up in Canada. I had purchased a farm. It was run-down. I went out one morning and saw a currant bush. It had grown up over six feet high. It was going all to wood. There were no blossoms and no currants. I was raised on a fruit farm in Salt Lake before we went to Canada, and I knew what ought to happen to that currant bush. So I got some pruning shears and went after it, and I cut it down, and pruned it, and clipped it back until there was nothing left but a little clump of stumps. It was just coming daylight, and I thought I saw on top of each of these little stumps what appeared to be a tear, and I thought the currant bush was crying. I was kind of simpleminded (and I haven’t entirely gotten over it), and I looked at it, and smiled, and said, 'What are you crying about?' You know, I thought I heard that currant bush talk. And I thought I heard it say this: 'How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as big as the shade tree and the fruit tree that are inside the fence, and now you have cut me down. Every plant in the garden will look down on me, because I didn’t make what I should have made. How could you do this to me? I thought you were the gardener here.' [OK, I've seriously had thoughts like this.] That’s what I thought I heard the currant bush say, and I thought it so much that I answered. I said, 'Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. I didn’t intend you to be a fruit tree or a shade tree. I want you to be a currant bush, and some day, little currant bush, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for loving me enough to cut me down, for caring enough about me to hurt me. Thank you, Mr. Gardener.’”

And so, in the middle of my prayer tonight I said to God, "Thank you, Heavenly Father, for loving me enough to cut me down, for caring enough about me to hurt me." It may have seemed obvious to everybody but me, but God didn't put me through all of this because he doesn't love me or wanted to punish me or because my church is old-fashioned and out-of-touch. He did it because he knows me better than I know myself and he KNEW that this day would come.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

OK, so it's been awhile since I blogged about anything. I actually had a list in my mind of what I wanted to write about, but things got kind of crazy, as they always do. One of the things I wanted to write about was how much I love being a mother and how much my kids amaze me every day. It seems, however, that whenever things in our lives become comfortable, something changes.

I still love being a mother... at times. Lately, though, my kids have been driving me CRAZY!!! I don't want to rant about it, but suffice it to say that some days I hear the word "Mom" so many times that I'm tempted to change my name. "Mom, I want something else to eat," "Mommy, the game!!!" "Mom, I want to play MarioKart," "Mom, can we go swimming?" "Hey, mom!" "Mom, I want to watch TV," "Mommy, I need your help," "Mommy the dog is biting me!!" "Mom, [R] pushed me!" "Mom, I don't like her smell," (referring to the puppy). Don't even get me started on the whining. Oh, the whining! OK, that's enough of that.

As if the whiny kids weren't enough, we decided to get a new puppy. We love her to death, but caring for her just adds one more layer of stress to my life and one more "person" who needs something from me at the most inconvenient times. That said, she is super cute and seems very smart. Our biggest problem with her is she is very mouthy when she plays (she's a puppy, duh) and nips at the kids frequently. The cats aren't too thrilled with her presence, but they're slowly getting used to each other. The puppy is an English Springer Spaniel and we named her Maggie. Actually, the breeder named her Maggie and we liked the name so much, we decided to keep it. It fits her well, don't you think?

Finally, on a mostly unrelated note, I want to say how grateful I am for people who love unconditionally. I am so thankful for the Atonement of my Savior that will allow me to be together with my family for eternity, despite my mistakes.

Fathering is not for the Weak, Either

On Father's Day I find myself thinking about all the fathers in my life. I decided to write a (not so) short tribute to each of them.

My Father
My earliest memories of my dad involve goofing around and lots of laughter. He worked hard, but he also knew how to have fun with his kids. He was and is the ultimate handyman. If something needed to be done around the house, he did it himself. If one of my toys broke, I could count on my dad to figure out how to fix it. He bought us our first computer sometime in the late 80's and has been a techie ever since.

My dad is a foodie. He always knows the best restaurants in town. If you take him to a restaurant that's not up to his standard, in fact, you'll never hear the end of it! I'm fairly certain I inherited my love of gourmet cooking from him. At his house, it was always important that the family sit down together at mealtime. He even insisted the three of us kids sit together and have our cereal in the morning after he had left for work.

I inherited my analytical mind from my dad (not that my mom's a dummy!). Although I took far more advanced math classes than he did in college, it's his critical thinking skills, and his determination that I credit with my academic success. I didn't, however, inherit his excellent writing skills. We spent many hours on the phone together when I was in college so he could help me refine my history essays.

My dad can also take some credit for helping me meet the wonderful man that I married. He served an LDS mission in Paris in the 1970's. Growing up, he always taught me songs and phrases in French. I fell in love with the language and ended up minoring in French in college. About twenty years later, C served a mission in Belgium and France. I was in an advanced French grammar class at BYU when I met a caring, funny, open-minded francophile that I just couldn't get out of my mind. More on him later.

My dad is a survivor. In 2006, at the age of 53, he was diagnosed with stage 4 gastric cancer. The 5-year survival rate of stomach cancer diagnosed at this stage is 5%. Against such odds, I'm not sure I'd be willing to put up a fight. Thankfully, he had more courage than I. After several debilitating rounds of chemotherapy, his cancer went into remission. Several months later, it came back. We weren't sure he would live to see his first grandchildren. In 2009 (I think--I'm sure he'll correct me if I'm wrong), he had all of his esophagus and most of his stomach removed. As of his last PET scan, he is still cancer free. My father is a loving, intelligent, amazing man, and my children and I are truly blessed to have him as a part of our lives.

My Stepfather
My mom married my stepfather in 1991 (again, I'm fuzzy on the exact date). It was the summer that I turned 13. Although he entered my life much later than most fathers, I couldn't love him any more if he had been there from the beginning. My stepdad is one of the kindest, most sincere, and most patient men I have ever met. Throughout my teenage years, I only remember him raising his voice once, and even then it was barely louder than his normal speaking voice. Also, I was being a complete brat at the time.

My stepdad is extremely intelligent. He is the doctor that all other doctors refer their tough patients to. He can correctly diagnose problems over the phone that would stump nearly everyone else. His memory is incredible. He has a successful (and closed) medical practice, yet he still sees many of his patients for free. My stepdad definitely taught me to be generous. He selflessly gives of his time (which is very limited) and his substance. He cares for his friends as if they were his family. He also helped me learn the importance of showing gratitude.

If I ever had a problem growing up and needed an out-of-the-box solution, my stepfather is the one I would turn to. He is an amazing listener and a great problem-solver. When I thought I knew all my options and couldn't figure out what to do, he would come up with two or three solutions that I never would have come up with on my own. That is a skill that I hope one day to emulate.

My Father-in-Law
I met my father-in-law after I'd been on 3-4 dates with C. He was the president of a large inner-city stake in Salt Lake City at the time. Despite his busy schedule he always made time to sit and talk with me whenever I visited. I always felt like he was genuinely interested in the things I had to say. It became clear right away that family was his absolute top priority.

Throughout his life, my father-in-law has had to make many sacrifices, both for the church and for his family. I've heard stories of him walking around in shoes with holes in them, so he could afford to buy his wife nice clothes. I've never met a more closely-knit family than my husband's. My father-in-law is a fantastic grandfather. Recently, he took care of my 2 1/2-year-old niece and her 6-month-old brother--by himself, late into the night. I doubt there are many grandfathers out there that would even dare attempt such a feat. I think he's the only one of my children's grandfathers that has actually changed their diapers.

My children are indeed lucky to have three such incredible grandfathers.

The Father of My Children
Last but not least, I must pay tribute to my wonderful husband. A more natural father, I have never encountered. We met in the fall of 1997. He sat behind me in my French class. When we had to pass our homework forward, he often put his paper on my head. He's goofy like that. The first thing I noticed about him was the interest he took in my life, and not in a creepy stalker way. That and his endearing, crooked smile. If I mentioned that I had a dance performance coming up, for example, the next time I saw him he would ask me how it went.

Since we sat near each other, we teamed up on a lot of writing projects. We were assigned to trade papers and double-check the grammar. Although he spent two years speaking French, I think I still got a better grade in the class. When we would meet to work on our homework, we'd finish in about 30 minutes, then spend the next 2 hours talking. It didn't take me long to realize that we were of the same mind on a lot of different issues that young Mormon singles face.

We went on our first date in December 1997. By mid-January, I was in love and certain we would get married. We went to a friend's wedding reception at the end of January and it got us talking marriage. We were officially engaged February 13, 1998 (a Friday) and married August 15, 1998. He was 22 and I had been 20 for a whole 9 days. We were young. We were so incredibly young and naive. Marrying C at that time in my life was the best decision I have ever made.

Our journey to parenthood was long and painful. I'll talk about that more in another post. He has stood by me through mental health problems, medical problems, financial problems, spiritual problems, and all the normal ups and downs that life brings.

As I said, C is the most natural father you can imagine. Since he's a pediatrician, this is not all that surprising. When the twins were first born, I actually felt like he was the mother and I was the father! When the kids were about 8 weeks old, I started taking ballroom dance lessons once a week. People were always so amazed when I told them I had infant twins and that their dad had no problem watching them. As parents, he and I are essentially interchangeable. If I needed to leave town for a week, I wouldn't have to give him a single instruction. When he has to work a 30-hour shift, the kids ask me at least once every few hours when Daddy is coming home.

Just like my father, stepfather, and father-in-law, my husband is extremely smart. He majored in microbiology and minored in chemistry. To earn money during college, he worked as a computer programmer. He was the only non-computer-science-major in the programming department. I have yet to meet a computer problem that he cannot solve. He builds computers, upgrades laptops, designs and maintains web pages, and provides tech support for everyone in the extended family.

My husband is also one of the nicest people you could ever meet. Everybody loves him. He is an incredible doctor with a fantastic bedside manner. He can solve difficult medical puzzles just as well as he can counsel a grieving family. In a year, he will be finished with his fellowship and will finally be able to begin his career. The future looks very bright.

In addition to being a great father and doctor, C is a great help around the house. He cooks, cleans, does laundry, takes care of the cats, and does all the gardening. Just like my dad, he is a serious handyman. Since we bought our house, he's pulled down wallpaper, completely repainted four rooms (including the ceilings of two of them), wired our basement for surround sound, set up our wireless router and internet, replaced showerheads and faucets, replaced our disposal, and several other things that I can't bring to mind at the moment.

C is also an avid photographer. I didn't actually realize this until he bought his first digital camera in 2002. We have more pictures of our children than you can possibly imagine. He also does amazing artistic photos that have won several art contests. Here is an example of one of my favorite photos of his.

 
I feel so fortunate to be married to such a smart, kind, loving, brilliant, artistic, amazing man.

To celebrate his special day, we went out to a Brazilian steakhouse for dinner last night and then went to see the latest X-Men movie (which was amazing, by the way). Then today for brunch, I made raspberry cheesecake-stuffed French toast and bacon. I'm certainly no photographer, but here is a picture of our yummy brunch:

 

 Happy Father's Day to all the men in my life! Now I need to stop writing and actually give them a call.

We'll all stay skinny 'cause we just won't eat

Amidst a childhood obesity epidemic, I find myself with an anorexic child. OK, he's not really anorexic, but the kid doesn't like to eat. At his last doctor appointment, he was down to 27 lbs from a previous 30. Granted, he was at the doctor because he had walking pneumonia and hadn't eaten much in the past few days, but he lost 10% of his body weight! While in the hospital (with the pneumonia) the nutritionist called us to see if we needed any advice since R had fallen off the growth curve. He used to be between the 5th and 10th percentile, and now he's below the 5th percentile, I guess.

When the twins were babies, I used to make babyfood from scratch. I like to cook and we had a really nice blender. It was actually really fun. I loved to see the look on their faces when I gave them a new food, like pureed asparagus, for example. Once they got older, though, R just got picky. Part of his problem is that he doesn't like to get dirty (an affliction L definitely doesn't share). It took him a long time to learn to use a spoon proficiently because he was too worried about spilling on himself or getting his hands dirty. This morning, I had to cut up an ice cream bar and feed it to him myself, because he couldn't pick the thing up without making a mess.

Not only is he reluctant to try new foods, but he also refuses to eat foods he likes sometimes. For the past few months, I've been skipping lunch entirely because I was sick of trying to force him to eat something. Now that he's lost weight, though, I guess I'll have to keep fighting that battle. Here's an example of what I would ideally like to feed my kids:

Breakfast
Whole-grain oatmeal w/ brown sugar and whole milk
1/2 a banana
Whole milk

Snack
Apple slices
String cheese

Lunch
Low-fat yogurt (naturally sweetened)
Carrot sticks
Whole-grain crackers
Whole milk

Snack
Whole-grain toast w/ butter
Whole milk

Dinner
Whatever we're eating, including lean protein and vegetables
Whole milk

Instead a typical day looks more like:

Breakfast
Dry Alpha-Bits eaten while playing computer or watching TV
Whole milk

Snack
Fruit snacks (may as well be candy)

Lunch
1-2 graham crackers
Whole milk

Snack
none

Dinner
Frozen Mac & Cheese
Whole Milk
Cookie

The above would actually be a pretty successful food day for him. Some days he eats nothing more than a yogurt and a fruit roll-up before dinner. I find myself breaking all the rules. L is a much better eater than R, but she's still very small. According to the AAP children should have no more than 4 oz. or juice per day. I let them have as much juice as they want. According to my hubby, most kids switch to low-fat milk between the ages of 3 and 4. Mine still drink nothing but whole (unless I run out). When the kids were babies, I was determined to allow them only small amounts of sugar each day, as a treat. Now, if they want ice cream for breakfast, they get ice cream for breakfast! Anything to put some weight on the little runts.

Hopefully, these crazy eating habits will get better as they get older and by the time they're teenagers, they will eat a balanced diet of whole grains, lean proteins, and lots of fruit and veggies. One can only hope....

Benda-what? Benda-who?

This week, my kids came down with yet another mystery illness. R started to feel warm and on Wednesday and then he started coughing. Pretty soon he was asking for his "breathing medicine." He has a touch of asthma (nothing near as severe as what I have, thankfully) and although his inhaler used to make him scream as a baby, now he realizes that it makes him feel better and he frequently asks for it when he's sick.

The next day, L started to feel sick and get feverish. By dinnertime she had projectile-vomited all over our white carpet. Fun stuff. The weird thing about this illness is they seem to get better and worse in waves. Sometimes they act perfectly fine and then later they're lying on the couch moaning and asking to snuggle.

So it's been an exciting few days of snuggling, napping, cleaning up vomit, and doing at-home activities. Despite being sick, one of L's favorite things to do is play in the backyard (in the 100-degree heat index weather) in the kiddie pool. After the adventure of inflating the crummy one the other day only to have the holes I put in it the first day we opened it up start leaking, I ordered a non-inflatable one on Amazon. I was amazed by how much water it holds!

The thing took at least 15 minutes to fill by hose and you have to watch the sides carefully, because they don't really stand up until it's over half-full. Once it was full, L played in it for about 5 minutes and was done. R didn't even stay interested long enough for it to fill up. Preschoolers are so fickle! I'm planning to leave it filled as long as possible and just skim off the bugs and leaves.

Another of L's favorite activities is playing with Bendaroos. Actually, she likes to watch me play with the Bendaroos. Thankfully, I find the activity rather fun, if sometimes aggravating. Those things don't stick like they appear to in the commercials. Even as I type this she is begging me to make more. Here is my lovely collection of sculptures (so far):

In case you can't tell, that's (from left to right) an alligator, elephant, starfish, ice cream sundae, penguin, watermelon slice, clown fish (like Nemo), pumpkin, giraffe, lion, cheeseburger, panda, and seal. I'm especially proud of the ice cream sundae. I spent at least 2 hours on that one. Of course, that's mainly because the included instructions called for a fancy vase-like bowl that kept coming apart. Eventually, I scrapped it and created my own bowl using foil inside to wrap the Bendaroos around. L was so patient while I worked. At one point, though, she fell asleep at my feet.

The final activity L has been participating in a lot is finger painting... with food. Though her dad and I aren't thrilled with the mess it makes, I hate to stifle her creativity.

Hopefully, we'll be out of sickie-land soon without a mommy or daddy casualty. OK, I guess it's time to work on my Bendaroo shark!

Rocking Through the Wilderness (otherwise known as my back yard)

It's a sweltering summer day in Kansas City. R & L were playing outside when L announced that she wanted to play with the hose. So, I changed both kids into swimsuits and sprayed them with sunblock. Next I went around the corner to turn on the hose and was confronted with this:

Yikes! Now, I do not garden; I do not pull weeds. My hubby knew this when he married me. He does a great job keeping the lawn mowed despite his busy schedule, but the rest of the yard often gets neglected. Also, I have a terrible bug phobia. But, since the kids really wanted to play in the water, I braved the brambles to turn on the hose. I think I deserve an award. Here's the reason I do things I hate:

  

After that adventure, L wanted to swim in the kiddie pool so I spent a good 20 minutes inflating the thing with a bicycle pump. It was easier than blowing it up by mouth (I did that last time) but was still exhausting! Of course, after that was done she only played in the pool for about 15 minutes.

Now I need a nap!