The best FHE ever.

With Clark out of town for last night's FHE, I decided to go with something a little more self indulgent....like forcing my love for organization on my children! Mwahahaha.  Come on, you know they loved it.  Probably just not as much as me.
We have our very first (and certainly not the last) Sock and Underwear Drawer Organizing Party! I feel like there should be balloons and streamers.  Cue the confetti canon (and then clean it up please.)
In recent months I have noticed an increasing number of socks landing themselves in the "sock orphanage".  Remembering how much I hated digging through the "sock basket" as a child, I decided that we would give ourselves a chance to reunite sock pairs to the best of our ability and then "dispose" of the leftovers.  I don't do "sock baskets".

Before:

Please control your gasps of disbelief.  The chaos, OH! the chaos. I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.

The "During":

Thoroughly entertaining, as always.

Since I put away most of Hazel's clothes (thus keeping her sock and underwear drawer in a constant state of order), she was free to choose her own activity while we worked...which mainly included her making faces in the mirror in her underwear.

After:

I know, the difference is astounding right? Tell me the difference is astounding.

In any case, there was much cause to rejoice [hooray!] in the reuniting of sock orphans with their perfect matches and everyone will be able to find socks and underwear with ease each day (in theory.)

And no more of this....though honestly, it warms my heart to see it because this is soooo Abby.  Where fashion is concerned, she really just doesn't care. Where Haley has a love for getting dressed and trying new looks, Abby begrudges the fact that she has to wear anything at all.

Was it wrong to show so much underwear on the internet?

Part II:

The Cherry Blossoms have arrived.

So did snow on Sunday morning.

The poor blossoms and daffodils are all wilting and hanging on for dear life through our 30 degree weather this week.

I would like to wring the little groundhog's neck right about now.

Part III:

Yesterday I sat on the couch in the front room to watch Mia outside.  She desperately wanted to ride her bike but no one would go outside into the frigid Spring air to play with her (including her mother.)  So I sat watching her play happily.  When she made a turn by the car I saw her reach down and lovingly pat her bike like a horse.  It warmed my heart and I wished, just for a moment, that I was my 6 year old self out there riding our horses together.

Choices, choices, choices.

So, help me out here.  I am having a difficult time deciding which picture to use for Hazel's passport application.

Choices, choices.

Imelda Marcos, you got nothin' on us.

And these are just the shoes downstairs! I kid you, not.
Imelda Marcos must have been hiding a few daughters in her house that we didn't know about.  That would totally explain her little shoe hoarding problem.
I look around me these days, and besides wishing that I hadn't really woken up to snow this morning (which I did), I am ready to put away the winter shoes.  Why do they take up so much more space? And why are they all over my house?
As you can imagine with 5 girls in the house, we have an abundance of shoes.  I love when we pack for a trip because I typically end up with a small suitcase full of nothing but shoes.  I long for the days of yore when you only wore shoes when you wanted to gussy up.
No. Not us.
In the winter we have tennis shoes, sunday shoes (in black AND brown, or some other funky color for that added splash of indulgence one occasionally affords to their daughters), boots for school/church, snow boots, rain boots and the extra pair or two or three of tennis shoes we have from years past that are held on to for things like "sports" and "yard work".  Spoiled much? I haven't even gotten to the warm weather shoes yet.  You would think that they take up less space but then of course you have at least one or two pairs of flip flops for each child, crocs, sunday shoes both closed toed and nicer sandals, casual sandals and why not, a pair or two of ballet slippers and tap shoes.  The saddest thing about shoes is their seeming inability to be passed down.  For that, I totally and completely blame my Dad and his most favorite and weighty word growing up, "shabby".  He worked in retail for over 30 years, can you blame the man? It has been ingrained into my brain and I have maybe even used it a time or two.  Oh, don't get me wrong, we still do "shabby", but it's not the chic kind.

I spent the better part of my afternoon one day this week engaging myself in the work of the great Spring Bin Shuffle of 2011.  It happens every six months or so.  It's a time to go through all the closets and dressers, moving out the outgrown, "shabby" (if you will) and out of season clothing into properly and appropriately marked bins...thus making room for the things being brought out of the bins.  My Megan in law calls this "bin shopping" in attempts to make her daughters more excited about hand me downs.  And they are.  My girls are always pleased as punch to wear something new, even if it is old, so to speak.  It is also a chance to weed out, yet again, a bag or two for goodwill.  The trick is doing it at just the right time.  Too late and they come home from school sweating, with multiple garments tied around their waste.  Too early and you get three little girls in skorts shivering at the bus stop in 45 degree weather.  I don't blame them-if I was given the choice of the same sweater I have been wearing for four months or a frilly pink skirt I would go for the skirt, every time.  And they do.

While doing the bin shuffle today I found 2 pretzels in a dress pocket.  Kinda gross.  Almost as surprising as the ketchup packet I found in the dryer last week...which would have been less funny except that Sho found a second one in a jeans pocket coming out of the dryer a few days later.  That would be Abby's jeans pocket.  Are we surprised? No, we are not.  I wonder if her school knows that she is hoarding ketchup packets from the cafeteria.

PS I heart the Monkees.  I mean, who doesn't? And I am proud to pass this love onto my daughters.  Our current Netflix pick is a "best of" the Monkees show.  It is just as awesome as I remember it.  And the girls think it is hilarious.
This is on the inside of one of the drawers on a dresser that I took from my Mom and Dad's house.  I'm pretty sure I know who wrote it, now I just want to know Carrie, which one was your favorite? Was it the predictable heart throb Davy Jones? or maybe the nerdy Michael Nesbit? I have to admit that though Peter was unassumingly silly, Mickey was my fave though his 'fro is quite a bit larger than I remember.

On a completely unrelated note (isn't it all?) look what I saw running through my backyard last week.  We have fox all over the neighborhood and lots of deer; tons of squirrels including a tail-less one that lives in a tree in the front yard (affectionately named "Bunny" since he looks more like a rabbit and less like an actual squirrel.) And just in case you were wondering, he still can climb trees exceptionally well.  The tail-less squirrel, not the one in the fox's mouth.  I'm pretty sure he won't be climbing anything anymore.

PPS Sometimes Sho hits me with a pillow.  And I don't like it.  Spencer made her do it (as a consequence to losing in a game) which isn't surprising seeing as how Spencer knows how much I hated being hit with pillows, snowballs, etc. growing up.  Sho, I thought we were friends.

And sometimes I find pictures like these on my camera and wonder where I was when my two year old was playing with our electronics.

The End.

On the continental divide...of medicine that is.

The body is a mysterious thing.
I am constantly amazed at our bodies and what a complex operating system it is.

Sometimes my body is capable of doing things that my mind didn't think possible.
And sometimes my body is capable of doing things simply because my mind forces it too.
And occasionally, my mind is just wrong and my body can't do it at all.
I have been surprised at what I can do and what my body has endured - births, surgeries, stress, illness, strenuous work.
I know that our bodies are so delicately balanced that when one thing is out of whack, it affects A LOT of things.  So, the plot thickens.

Western medicine.  The MD.  They have saved my own life and the lives of 3 of 4 of my babies...but with my day to day health I find myself asking "what have you done for me lately?"
I am a strong believer of holistic remedies.  The idea that our body's systems are sensitive and intricately interconnected.  I believe in healthy food, water, water, water, activity, stretching, breathing, all that good stuff.
If I took the diagnosis and treatment from one school of thought to the other, I would be scoffed at but I see a need for both to work together.  The truth is, I have taken the diagnosis from one to the other and vice versa and what I have found is, these kids don't play nice on the playground.
I feel like both schools of medicine, at least the individuals I have seen, are incomplete.  They need one another to be balanced and whole.
I have had a lot of vague health issues in the last several years, especially since Hazel was born.  I say vague because my list of symptoms could be the list of symptoms for a huge long list of things.  Each time I have gone to an MD their answer is, "well, what is bothering you the most today?" and BAM, 3.4 seconds later I have a prescription note in my hand which consequently is wadded up in the trash 2.8 seconds after that with a resolve to seek out yet another doctor that will delve deeper than the symptom that tops my list that particular day.  That is not what I want.  What I want is someone to look at all of my issues as a whole and figure out where things are out of sync.  What is the root cause?

I know that they are busy.  I know I am asking a lot of them.  But aren't they interested in a challenge beyond their daily cases of strep throat and indigestion?
I have spent most of my life with doctors on this pedestal of all knowing wisdom and capability to easily diagnose and solve problems and the truth of the matter is, they can't.  They do know more than me (a heck of a lot more when it comes to the body) but I know my body.  Their job is to alleviate discomfort, and in the case of what our insurance offers, which is virtually FREE medical care which is awesome but also a grossly lacking facility and staff that is overrun with patients and understaffed with time.  I don't know why it has taken me so long to realize that I have to be the manager of my own health.  I have been leaving too much to the doctors.  And while they are capable of many things that I am not, I need to be more involved and more in charge.
After doing extensive reading, praying, listening and consulting with multiple medical professionals I marched into an appointment at our clinic last week and gave her a list of tests that I wanted her to do.  I am fairly sure that doctors don't appreciate that kind of thing.  But I finally felt like I was on my way to getting somewhere.  And instead of just listening to the standard "nope, everything looks good" phone call a couple of days ago, I told them I would come by today and pick up a copy of all the results.  I have spent the better part of the afternoon looking up everything on the panel and trying to understand what it all means and more particularly, what it could mean for me.   I am taking these results to another doctor this evening for a second opinion.  That feels assertive.  It feels productive.  Let's hope it is.
I am in tune.  I know how to listen.  I know when something is not quite right.
So, several times in the last couple of years I have turned to a more holistic approach.  The only problem with this avenue is the lack of "science".  Science gives me that concrete affirmation of truth.  Truth be told, the holistic side comes across a little wacky.  Sometimes I even call them my "witch doctors". (There was that time that Clark and I went to an Iridologist-so interesting!)  They appeal to my understanding of the body.  It makes sense to me.  The chiropractor, the applied kiniseologist, the acupuncturist and massage therapist.  Seeing these people gets results.  They do.  But then sometimes they don't, or its temporary and I am left feeling that lacking validation from the science of it.
I can't express the frustration that I have felt in the past months.  The problems have been an issue for almost 3 years (being the worst and most problematic since Hazel was born.) I have felt especially frustrated in these last 3 months of training for the triathlon because I have hit several walls that make me feel seriously questioning whether or not I am capable of completing the race.  It's not just a matter of being pushed or being tired.  It is much more than that.
I am so excited for the race and the thought of not finishing would be disappointing, to say the very, very least.  I am not nervous but I feel skeptical of my body's abilities.  That is not a good feeling.  I was an athlete in high school so I know what it should feel like and when something is not quite as it should be.
I will continue on my quest to manage my own health to the best of my ability and definitely utilizing modern medicine where appropriate.  I believe in them, I know I need them but I have gently ushered them into the passenger seat and will be the one sitting behind the wheel from now on.
Wish me luck.

Post Edit: Let it not go unnoticed that I have been blessed with the occasional amazing doctor-my OB with Mia, my perinatologist with Hazel and our friend in CT (and supportive wife) who made more than one "house call" free of charge to supplement the time or two that our military clinic left us hanging high and dry.  Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! There is not enough Ben & Jerry's in the world for you and your house calls.

Conversations with a 2 year old.

My sister Abby's post prompted me to finally just post this one that I have had in my cue forever. Abby's is way better, in case you were wondering.)

We have entered the "why" phase.  I am trying to just go with it.  Typically it turns into a contest between her and me to see who will give up first.
Example:

HAZEL: Mom, where we going?
MOM: The gym.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: So I can exercise.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: So my body can be healthy and strong.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: So I can do my race.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: So I can feel good about accomplishing something.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: So I can feel good about myself.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: So I can be happy.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: So I can help my family be happy.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: Because Heavenly Father wants us to be happy.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: Because we are His children.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: Because he is our Father.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: Because.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: Because.
HAZEL: Oh.

OR something along the lines of:


HAZEL: Mom,where's Abby?
MOM: At school.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: So she can learn.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: So she can grow up to be a positively contributing member of society.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: So she isn't a leech on society.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: Because people don't like that.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: Because it's not fair.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: Because no one likes a freeloader.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: Because it shows a lack of respect.
HAZEL: Why?
MOM: Because that's obnoxious and no one will want to be around them.
HAZEL: Oh.

It is sometimes surprising at what makes her give up.  Or maybe she just gets bored.

Then yesterday she said, while randomly helping me stir something in the kitchen,
"Mom, no more monkeys jump on the bed."
ME: Yeah, what happens when the monkeys jump on the bed?
HAZEL: They get poop on it.

I suppose this week we'll be brushing up on her song repertoire.

Kids can be such a drag.

I have been joking for weeks now that if I ever got to ride my bike actually outside in training for this triathlon, that Hazel would act as my drag.  And today, she did.
Fact: It was a lovely day.
Fact: Riding outside is way more interesting than riding a bike that doesn't go anywhere.
Fact: Riding a bike outside is harder than inside.
Fact: A bug flew into my eye.
Fact: I sang very loudly to my ipod while riding along a busy road (when I wasn't huffing up a hill.)
Fact: Hazel weighs at least 30 pounds.
Assumption: I will be able to shave time off when she and her seat are not strapped to my bike.
Fact: I need more padding.  Sitting doesn't feel good anymore.

2 weeks and counting...

A bestie and some pics

Wahoo, I finally get to share with you how lucky I am that a couple of weekends ago, one of my besties came into town.  I am lucky for a few reasons.  First, she has family only 30 minutes from me, so when they get her, I get her.  Second, I love her.  She is one of my oldest and closest friends and so I always get filled up with good conversation and love from someone who knows me so well.  Third, she just happens to be one of the most talented photographers I know.  I like to call her my personal photographer and may or may not have told a couple of people that my personal photographer was flying in from Austin to take our pictures.  She did take our pictures and I am pleased.  In fact, I have never been disappointed.  I plan on getting several large prints of these for my house.
Also, she is a genius entrepreneur and has created this perfectly useful and amazing book that you can go buy here (on the right hand side- "Say NO to Auto"  She very clearly, succinctly and adorably walks you through the basics of using an SLR digital camera.) 
You'll have to read both posts to find out that not only does she take awesome pictures and stay up late talking with me, but she is able to truly appreciate things like our spontaneous Justin Beiber dance party, which is occasionally necessary preceding our traditional Friday night family pajama  party.
I was so glad that I got to see her.  We were missing our dear friend (the third corner to our crazy friend triangle) who I'm sure would have added some awesome dance moves of her own.
So, go check out Kristen.  Check out our pictures.  Check out her website and for your sake, I hope you live somewhere in the vicinity of Austin.  Partake of her goodness, you won't regret it.
Thank you Kris!!!

Two epiphanies in one week? That's ludicrus!

Before:

After:

I know what you are thinking, two in one week? I was just as shocked as you are.  But after having the misfortune of finding the hand towel on the floor of the bathroom a bajillion and one times, it finally just came to me.  ATTACH THE TOWEL TO THE TOWEL RACK MORON! My subconcious is not always so unkind but sometimes name-calling is totally appropriate.
It may not be pretty, but hopefully it's a bit more sanitary.  There is nothing grosser than finding a hand towel (to dry your freshly cleaned hands) on the floor of a bathroom.  Gross.  Mega gross.
We even had a Family Home Evening lesson one night where I took the entire (yes, the entire family was in need of a refresher course of where the towel goes after you use it) into the bathroom and one at a time made them hang the towel up a dozen times.  It was fun for me.  Very Karate Kid 2010 esque.
[throw towel on floor]
"pick it up."
[they pick it up and hang it up]
[i throw it on the floor]
"pick it up"
repeat 12 times.
It worked for a while.
Now I just need to go attach buttons to every other hand towel in the house.

********

And now a walk down memory lane for my family.  Remember this song? Snippits of the tune were haunting me until I called Abby one day and she reminded me.

I like the part where it sounds like "mother shoot me dead" instead of hunter.
If you are wondering why Hazel has a puppy nose I will explain.  You see, Mia coined the name "puppy ears" for those high piggy tails there.  So after Hazel asked for "puppy ears" this morning, she decided she needed a "puppy nose" too.  I obliged because, why not?  So naturally, when the other girls came home from school they needed to channel their inner animals as well.  It may just be the most action my eyeliner has seen all year.

I might have nightmares about Abby.  Too much.  Just a little too much.  But I do wish you could see her one raised, especially darkened eyebrow.

And coming soon....family pictures by my favorite photographer (a close tie with you, Spencer) who was in town a couple of weeks ago.  Our time together may or may not have included a Justin Beiber dance party.

Parenting epiphony #8,324 (but maybe more like #7, who am I trying to kid?)

Can anyone tell me why in the world I walked by Cybill Shepherd on the street in my dream last night? I barely saw her face because I wasn't actually walking, I was riding a bike but the woman in front of me asked her in passing for her autograph.  Why is Cybill Shepherd in my subconscious? and where has she been the last 10 years?  Not that I'm complaining.  The last good thing she was in was Moonlighting.

Did I tell you I gave in to great pet debate? OK, not really.  Abby somehow convinced me to bring home four (scratch that, three live and one dead) crickets from school following their insect unit.  I tried to tell her that crickets were the kind of thing we kill if we find them in the house but she wouldn't hear of it.  So now we are trying to happily and peacefully coexist with "Rebecca" (Mia's pick), "Angel" (Abby's pick) and "Awkward Silence" (Haley's pick and quite funny I might add.)  I am giving them four more days of survival, tops.

I have had another epiphany in the parenting department that I thought I would share, just in case anyone else out there struggles with the same issues AND to remind myself that when I have teenage daughters that are making me crazy I can think back to simpler times when these were my problems.
We were having an awful after school issue.  Things were working out fine until about a month ago and then suddenly they just weren't.  Cabin fever maybe?  Homework was taking forever, snack was going on forever and there was general feelings of angst (mainly by me.)  In playing chess with my husband last week I was struck with how much I hate playing defense, and chess with my husband.  I am always much happier playing offense and not doing damage control around the house. (I came to this conclusion while losing to my husband in chess for the billionth time, I don't think I have ever beat him except once, by mistake.  But it's OK because I beat him soundly in Mancala every single time we play.  So it feels pretty equal.)  BACK to my point.  I decided that I had majorly fallen behind in the planning ahead department.  Which was evident by the fact that all of our dinners sucked last week.  It was the night that poor husband came home to half a quesadilla and a plastic cup of mandarin oranges on his plate that I rallied myself to do better.  I have now sat and planned my entire month of meals.  So making my grocery list yesterday was a cinch.  And doing the whole month of meals took all of five minutes.  Now I don't have to give it a second thought.  I go look at what we need and bam, it's done.  Seriously off track again, but not really since it all makes me feel snug and in control.  Back to the after school dilemma.  I started by defining the most basic needs for both the group and the individuals.  1)They need a snack when they get home.  Something about school and church has the ability to make one ravenous.  So, instead of sending them into the kitchen to do what they please, I will have snack ready and on the table when they get home.  That way, they can come in, put their stuff up, wash hands and be ready to eat and be finished much more quickly.  I can also have everything else squared away so that I can sit and stare at them with my hands clasped neatly on the table in front of me.  They like when I do that and ask them an endless stream of questions about school that always begins with "How was school?" "Fine."  We go from there.  2) I need to have done Mia's homework with her before the older girls get home.  An advantage of half day kindergarten is that one on one time with Mia who needs the extra attention for her reading and writing. That way I can do number 3) much more easily and that is, send Mia and Hazel to my bed to watch a show (with the door locked to prevent distracted sisters from leaving their own homework).  Get Haley busy doing her work down in the work room where it's quiet at her own desk.  She can mostly do homework by herself but needs my help on occasion with a certain problem or using the computer.  My place however is with Abby where she is sent to do her homework up in her room at her own little desk.  Abby is the queen of being distracted and she has a lot of homework each night.  It takes her forever because she has such a difficult time staying focused.  So, by sending her to her room to do it she is contained in a quiet, calm place and can focus on what she needs to do.  I can sit and read a book while she works but I am there to help her when needed and refocus her if she gets sidetracked.
Yesterday was a world of difference from Monday where I was ready to send them all down the river by dinner time.  The after school routine took one hour instead of three and the chaos was gone.  They finished their homework early enough to play outside and enjoy their day.  This is so important since they spend such a big part of their day sitting in school.  I like for them to be able to run around and do what they want before and after dinner.
Sometimes parenting is such a no brainer but only when I take the time to actually dust off my brain and think about things logically.
Now, I think Hazel and I might don our new bike helmets and do our ride outside today.  My only requirement is going to be a temperature at or above 40 degrees, or 60 degrees, whatever.


 And since I can't stand "a book with no pictures" I went to the oldest file of photos on my computer, 2006 (it's time to burn some photo CD's and clean off my external) to share.

Moving on...Who needs an electric blanket when they have a husband?

A few nights ago we watched as Bear Grylls made a fitted, seamless tank top out of a seal carcass.  I kid you not.  It was one of the funniest/most disturbing things I have ever seen.  At least now I know how to survive if I have to swim from one island to another in Scotland through frigid waters.
In other news, Hazel, dear 4th born, frequently breakfasts on the leftovers of the school going children.  We take them to the bus stop and come home to uneaten portions of food on the table.  Hazel climbs right up and helps herself.  Do you suppose she will resent me for it one day?
Hey, waste not, want not.  That's what I always say. (No it isn't.)

 I am cold all the time.  From about late October to April I am cold.  I am cold in my house, in the car and just about anywhere I go.  I just cannot get warm, until that is, I get into bed at night.  Sometimes, when I am in the bathroom finishing up the personal-hygiene-before-bed routine, Clark is on my side of the bed, running in place to warm things up.  And then he lets me snuggle right up close to his always warm (dare I say "hot", wink wink) body.  He will even sandwich my freezing cold feet between his warm ones.
Now that is love.

On Friday we attended Haley's big Colonial Day at school.  They have been studying Colonial America since the beginning of the year so this is their big day.  I made her a fancy dress so she could do the Virginia Reel in style.  She was adorable.  Then I helped in the colonial crafts room doing silhouettes.  I was about 3/4 of the way through 50 fourth grade boys before I realized what an unfortunate height fourth grade boys are in relation to the height of my bosoms.  (I was literally having them face me while I traced their silhouette on the wall, a mere 6 inches from their face....think Gloria giving Phil a haircut...with the exception of a cup size or two.) Once I realized that "unfortunate positioning", I tried not to think about it for the remaining 1/4 of the 4th grade male student body.  The silhouettes turned out adorable, despite the psychological scarring.

It was fun to be at the school and see all of their hard work.  Her teacher told us that this year's class got the highest grades she has ever had on their Revolutionary war unit.  Smarty pants.

And this is a shout out to Clark pants, who has his first race just a couple of weeks after mine.  He and that fellow in the center there (husband to my triathlon partner) are ultimately training for a marathon this fall but doing their first half marathon in mid April.  Go Clark! And yes, I included my goofy looking brother just because I can.

And that really is all I have to say on this chilly Monday morning.