Praying for Rain

This is my first year as a resident of California. I've visited several times the last seven years. But now I live here. Right in the heart of central California. I can't go anywhere, not even down the street without passing an orchard or farm of some kind. Food is everywhere here. It truly is the land of plenty.

But today it was 70 and sunny. Which sounds great, and we made the most of it. But the nice weather is overshadowed by an uneasiness.

Where is the rain?

My husband and his family have lived in California most of their lives, and they tell me, December and January it rains. Some people get snow for Christmas. We get rain. Lots and lots of rain.

In the last three months, I can count on one hand the number of times it has rained. And some of those were quite light.

Where is the fog?

I have spent several Christmases in California. Winter mornings here are accompanied by a thick and chilly fog.

I have seen slight fog twice this winter.

Today I met a family who had been evacuated from their home in Glendora. They may get to go back at the end of the week, where they will get to deal with airing the smoke out of all their belongings.

The snow pack in the Sierras is at 17% of what is normal.

What I'm trying to say is that it's dry. And for a place that relies on agriculture so heavily, it is scary.

We are all praying for rain and snow. In two weeks, on February 2nd, all the members of the LDS church in the area will spend 24 hours fasting for rain. We're already praying, praying, and praying some more.

I'm asking you to join us. Because this isn't just a problem for California. If you eat, it's a problem for you too.

Max's tonsilectomy

It all started this summer. I walked in on Max taking a nap. He's fallen alseep in the car and I didn't want him wetting the bed, so I was going to put a towel under him. His face was really pale and his lips were all white. I didn't notice at first, until I lifted his legs up and put the towel underneath. He immediately gave this huge gasp and the color returned to his face and his lips. HE HADN'T BEEN BREATHING.  It was pretty scary, but I wasn't sure when I should cal someone. It was only one time, right?

Nevertheless, I had Rob look in Max's mouth to inspect his tonsils. I have a friend who's sons both had to have their tonsils out for sleep apnea reasons. Rob's not an ENT, but being a dentist, he sees plenty of tonsils. He said they looked pretty big to him. I sat on that for a few months.

Then Max started sleeping in our room because he got scared at night (nightmares about fire, apparently). We have a little camping mat on our floor and he sleeps there. Every now and then I would hear him gasp in the middle of the night.

Tommy came and our life got turned upside down. I kept thinking I should call the ENT, but just never seemed to remember. Well, I finally got around to it and took him in. Dr. Romeo told us that sleep apnea is the number one reason for tonsils and adenoids to be removed these days.

He took one look in Max's mouth and said, "He's really never had a throat infection with those things?"

I shook my head.

"They're really big."

We scheduled the tonsilectomy and Max had it done on Friday. Dr. Romeo came in to talk to us when it was finished. He said he kept scraping out pockets of infection from the tonsils, which was unusual for someone this age because that usually takes years of infection. He also said that when he removed the adenoids tons of pus just drained out.

Basically, Max has had tonsilitis his entire life and we never knew. The kid must have a high pain threshold. I felt awful. But I'm so glad we got them out. Not only will this solve the sleep apnea, but it will stop the constant runny nose all winter, and maybe even help clean up his terrible eczema.

Max is being a champ. Which I can't be too surprised about with someone who's been sick for years and never let us know. The worst part was bringing him out of anasthesia. He fought and wrestled for an hour and kept trying to bite out his IV.

He's such a good boy, and I can't wait to see how much better he feels once he's recovered.

A Mother's Journal

I'm making most of the kid's presents this Christmas. This Waldorf doll for Jane is just about complete. I need to remake the dress. It's a little bit too tight to get on and off. But I think she turned out really cute. Can't wait to make a boy one for Max. Then I have to finish the superhero capes, stick ponies, and (start and finish) dinosaur tails. Almost there!

We're a house of boys now. Can you believe it? Sometimes I still can't. I think I always imagined myself with a bunch of girls. But I'm getting the feeling like Jane might be it on the girl front. So thank goodness she's pretty much 150% girl. But look at all these handsome guys. This house is going to start being VERY loud and VERY busy. I look forward to camping, hiking, fort-building, and potato guns in our future.

Oh this boy is the sweetest. He gets the biggest, brightest eyes. He never wants to be alone. A social bug like his dad.

Jane is such an artist. She so reminds me of her Aunt Kim. Check out the ensemble she put together today. This is totally something her Aunt Kim would wear (okay, the five year old version of it). She just has her own little sense of style. It's so fun to see her becoming this real, little person. All her own and nobody else. You see those shoes? We got them at "the mall". All week Jane has been talking about "going to the mall." As a mom who tries to never go shopping, I wondered where she heard about the mall? Found out. Her cousins have been corrupting her. And now she says things like, "I love the mall." Uh-oh, haha. So we had a mommy-daughter-Tommy date. It was fun, and now Jane thinks that a mall is pretty much where you go for candy dispensers and sparkly shoes. (Which is basically true.)

I opened my pantry tonight and found this. Looks like a party.

Speaking of parties. My kids decided it was their stuffed animals' birthdays this week. Jane had a birthday tea party for her unicorn. See him sitting at the table/basket in the background? These two are so fun and I love to see them play together. It makes me think about having another one close with Tommy. We'll see.

Halloween is coming...

It's going to be super fun!

Some babies just need a paci

Hallelujah!

We sure love this boy, but we especially love when he is happy.

Pumpkin Patch 2013

Things I'm so over with baby #3

We've been programmed to think that having a baby means buying loads of stuff. Because babies need all sorts of supplies, right? Wrong!

Don't get me wrong. I bought lots of stuff for my first. And then I didn't use half of it. The amount of stuff dwindled with baby #2. And now with baby #3, we bought almost nothing.

So here's my list of all the things you don't really need (or even want).

Changing table - Wait! I really thought that every time the baby needed a diaper change I was going to go upstairs and change it on the table? Ha! That changing table became nothing but an extra couple of shelves withing a few weeks.

Closet full of clothes - Ok, so buying baby clothes is way fun. But now on baby #3, I'm going through the clothes I bought before and thinking, "Did I really put my babies in jeans?" This kid has worn nothing but onesies, gowns, and sleepers. He's comfy, I'm comfy. Let's all just be comfy!

Bouncer - Meh. I have a swing and a carseat. Do I need anything else?

Disposable Wipes - Seriously! I know I'm in the minority with this one, but reusable wipes work so much better! Who knew? I just cut up a couple receiving blankets and mixed up some wipe solution in a spray bottle. When I need a wipe, I spray a cloth with the solution to wet it down and use it. I do a load of diapers and wipes at the end of the day. (Wipe solution = 1/2 cup baby wash + 1/2 cups baby oil + 1 cup water)

Burp cloths - Let's be honest. We all just end up using whatever's close by anyway. Towels, blankets, rags, whatever.

Baby socks and shoes - Am I the only one who can't keep these on my kids' feet?

Crib/bassinet - My kids always end up sleeping in the swing or with me anyway. I didn't even try to pretend this time.

Maybe my next post will be the baby necessities!

Baby Tommy

Baby Tommy was born on September 18th at 2:13 am. He was a week overdue, but made up for it by having a two hour labor from start to finish. He weighed 8 lbs 15 oz and is 21". His spirit is so gentle and all he wants to do is cuddle. I got the distinct impression holding him the first day that he was capable of great amounts of love and compassion, and that I was responsible for nurturing in him a love for his fellow man and a desire to serve.

It's amazing what babies remind us of. The great potential that is born into all of us and our great responsibilities as parents.

A Mother's Journal - Part 2

Today Jane came up to me while I was doing my hair and makeup. I helped her on to the counter. She looked at me and said, "Mommy, can I always stay with you?"
"Yes, you can always stay with me," I replied with a hug.
"I always want to be with you."
I just wanted to write it down, because I know that all too soon I'll never hear little comments like that. And in about 14 years she'll be ready to get out of dodge. I know. I've been there. But right now...I'm just relishing this.


Max kicked me in the back today. He got in trouble and I said, "Max that hurt me. That hurt the baby. When you hurt me, you hurt the baby."  His remorse was instantaneous. He immediately picked up a blanket and brought it to me in the kitchen. He lifted it to my stomach and whispered. "I didn't meant to hurt the baby. I didn't mean to." Then he gave me a big hug. Sometimes he's rough, but underneath that layer is a whole lot of soft and sweetness. Sometimes we both just need reminding, me and him.


I've started reading "The Mouse and the Motorcycle," to the kids. We are only in the third chapter, but I'm realizing that Jane doesn't ever hold out much hope for her characters. Every time I ask her about a character, in any book we haven't read before, along the lines of, "Do you think he'll get out/get what he wants/solve the problem?" She always replies with a very confident "Nope."  Right now Ralph is trapped in the waste basket and according to Jane, he's doomed. In face she went so far as to lay out exactly what would happen between the trashcan, the dumpster, and the garbage truck.


The other day I checked Postsecret. Something I haven't done in a couple years. One of the postcards said, "I think all stay-at-home mom's are just lazy." Of course, it rankled me for a moment. Not that it's something I've never heard before. I know lots of people believe that. But the next few thoughts that hit me were a bit different than usual. I know that my day is not as "busy" as a mother who works. I can fit my housework into a whole day instead of a few hours. Quality time with my kids isn't necessarily anything stressful, many times it involves sitting at a park while they play, making rolls with Max when Jane doesn't want to play, or painting a picture.

Most people don't know this, but I actually was accepted to do biomedical research with a professor at Creighton. After taking the GRE and getting all the letters of recommendation I got the e-mail. He'd love to work with me. Now I just needed to apply to Creighton, which was more of a formality, and I'd be on my way to a Masters. Except I couldn't do it. I had to have the sit-down, honesty chat with myself. We've all had it. The "Why am I doing this discussion?" Because the truth was, while I love chemistry, I hate research. Hate it. So why was I going through all the hoop jumping? Well, because that was what was expected of me! I didn't want anyone to think I was wasting my potential! What would the people back home think? That's when I gave myself a little slap and said "What do you want?"

Well, you obviously know how that conversation with myself went. So when I looked at that postcard I though, "Am I lazy?" I guess that depends on your definition. Isn't it funny how today in our society we wear our busyness like some kind of badge? Like the more we have to do and the more stressed we are, the more valuable we are? I mean, if you're not stressed and out-of-your-mind busy can you really be important? Successful? And yet, so many people, especially mothers, feel like they can't do anything well. Their mothering cuts into their career, their career cuts into their mothering, we are driven to be uber-successful in everything we do from decorating, to parenting, to moving up the corporate ladder and it's either be the best or be a failure. How is this healthy when the truth is most of us will just be normal people, with normal careers, and normal children?

I stepped off that path years ago. Of course, I could try to tout how busy I am and how much work I do to try and impress everyone else. I could put my kids in every activity under the sun so that we spend our days shuttling all over kingdom come. Would that make me "not lazy"? Would that make me productive? No. Over the last year or two I have come to appreciate more and more the beauty of "slow". Slow lifestyle, slow food, slow childhoods, slow entertainment. Slow, enriching, rewarding, with time to reflect, enjoy, savor, and dream.

Maybe that makes me lazy to some. I'm glad to remark with Mr. Butler, "Frankly, my dear. I don't give a damn."

Sometimes children are embarrassing...

And when they are I would just like to say that they in no way reflect the thoughts and feelings of their parents. Got it? I have nothing to do with it.

Max has a new thing. He likes to point out the "bad guys". Unfortunately this leads to some embarrassingly public denunciations of the "bad guys" in our every day life.

Like the guys in hats and sun glasses at the store. "Look Mom! Bad guys!"

The two African-American men at the restaurant.  "Dad! A bad guy! Another bad guy!" (This was so embarrassing. I can't even tell you. All Rob could do was correct Max, apologize and hope his eyes somehow communicated how NOT racist we really are.)

And then today, perhaps the worst. In the hallway of the Disneyland hotel, a somewhat tall (but not super tall) gentleman walked out of his room. Max gasped. "Look! It's a bad guy!"  I responded the way I always do. "That's not a bad guy, Max." But then he went further, yelling, "It's a giant."  And as the man walked past us and down the hall Max kept shouting. "Where's the giant going? Where'd the giant go?"

Are we sure that duct taping a child's mouth is abuse?

In Which Jane Gets the Spirit of Christmas.

I've come to the conclusion this month that Christmas is like one big, month-long caffeine rush. It is fun and magical and special and thanks to my Jane, sweet and meaningful.

We are filling stockings for 71 foster kids. It has been quite an endeavor, with all sorts of fun things rolling into our house. It's been hard for these kiddos to see all the candy and be told they can't have any. I've been telling them that the stuff is for kids with no mommies and daddies.

I think this has really affected Jane. A few days ago she wanted to share our house with people who don't have a house. But yesterday she really went above and beyond for a girl of four.

Jane kept offering yesterday, "I can share my mommy and daddy. Is that a good idea?"
"That's a wonderful idea, Jane," I would reply.
Then, after thinking for a minute she said, "I can give some of my toys to kids with no mommy or daddy."
I thought it was just more talk. I told her if she wanted to do that then she should go pick out some toys to give away.
Jane surprised me further by going to her toy organizer and rummaging through it. I wanted to make sure she understood exactly what she was doing. "Jane," I said. "If you give these toys away they will be gone forever. You won't ever see them again."  Jane just continued searching through her toys.

A few minutes later she returned with five toys. Of course, three of them were actually Max's, but that's beside the point. "Here, mommy," she said. "Let's put these in the stockings, okay?"

I set the toys on the counter, very touched, because one of the toys was a treasured Tinkerbell bath toy (she has Snow White and Tinkerbell and they play together all the time.) "Are you sure you want to give away Tinkerbell," I asked.

"I still have Snow White," she responded. "Can we put them in the stockings?"

"Yes," I replied. But let's do it tonight after Max is asleep."

But Jane wasn't quite pleased with that answer. She quietly went and retrieved one of our stockings, put the toys in there and handed it back to me. If I thought she hadn't understood what she was doing she changed all that by telling me. "I can never see them again."

Last night, Jane fell asleep very early. I put those toys in the stockings (all except Tinkerbell, she was sticky) and thought about my sweet Jane, who really understood and really followed the spirit of Christmas.