My Edumacation

I'm not the brightest crayon in the box. I mean my mind has a way of wrapping itself around thoughts and ideas, but I am sort of lacking. I haven't done much with college or a career. I have plans to, that I'm hoping will work out, but that is yet to happen. I guess you could say I'm just sort of good at a lot of things. I'm sort of good at art. I'm sort of good at the piano. I'm sort of good at dance. I'm sort of. . .well you get the idea. But I've realized, even though I lack in specialized skills, the skills I do have can help with a lot of things.

Like for example: my art skills. I quit art because I wasn't good enough. I'd see great painters and drawers, and I knew my skills could never compete. But later on I learned my skills were good enough to help in the classrooms I worked in. By drawing a picture of a panda bear, I could make a kids day.

Or I could bring a smile to my nephews face by making an awesome horse head for his pioneer parade-- he even asked for it to be a girl and named her after me.



When all is said and done that's good enough for me.

Another example: my singing skills. I love to sing. I mean "rearrange my front room to resemble a Broadway stage and belt out the tunes" LOVE to sing. But singing in front of people is not so much my forte. However singing lullabies to my children is one of my favorite things to do with my skills.

And even though I lack, in higher education, what I learned in elementary, and what I learned about teaching kids while working in classrooms, has helped me to create fun lessons for my kids.

So "lessons" isn't my favorite word because it just sounds too official. But basically every other day we sit down for an hour to an hour and a half and work on reading, science, history, etc. My basic schedule-- you know me I have to have a schedule-- goes like this:

Monday- History and Reading: We rotate history every month. So one month we'll talk about state history, the next month United States History and the next month global history. Then we start over with state. History is one of my favorite subjects and I love teaching it to my boys. Even though all they really care about is the coloring page, it's still fun-- well one little boy has a loving adoration for the American Flag which is rather sweet, so I guess it's rubbing off a little. For reading I work on letters and letter sounds. I also work on spelling their names. I would rather start with colors as opposed to letters, but I haven't put that together just yet. Usually on reading days I'll read them a story too.

Wednesday-- Science and Math: I really hadn't thought these two subjects out very well. They are my least favorite after all. I decided to do a rotation for science though. Right now we're talking about the Earth and next month we'll change the subject to something else like animals or space. For math we are working on numbers and counting. And sometimes shapes.

Friday-- Music and Art: My two most favorite subjects. I really have a strong opinion on how these two things can influence us in so many ways, for better or worse. They are probably the closest I've come to having a true passion in life-- aside from being a mother that is. We talk about composers and artists. We sing songs and listen to different music. Sometimes we color or paint. Some days we'll go outside and draw with sidewalk chalk. It's really laid back and fun.

My kids are all pretty young but they still pick up a few good things from these activities. I think the most important thing is the structure it brings. I've noticed they're a bit better behaved when we do these lessons consistently-- which I really haven't been very good at, but I am getting better!

I also babysit my nephew so he benefits from these lessons from time to time. I have to tell you it can be a frustrating route. It's been this way ever since I started helping him with his Kindergarten homework everyday. He just gets nervous and freezes up. He tries to make up answers instead of drawing from what he knows. I try my best to stay positive, but heaven knows I've lost my temper more than once-- and that doesn't help anyone.

Though I've been a strong supporter of the arts, in education, my whole life I never realized how beneficial they really are. After a frustrating week, of trying to work with my nephew on basic things, we were able to calmly enjoy a lesson on arts and music. There was no stress, there were no wrong answers and he was able to enjoy himself while getting the satisfaction of knowing he did a good job. I think that really helped to boost his confidence. It was something he could do, and do well, and that was a really good thing for him to learn-- and for me too.

I'm not the best at having these "lessons" all the time. And the main reason for them is just so I make the time to teach my kids. I'm terrible at reading bedtime stories and just taking a "time out" from cleaning to impart a little wisdom. But I know if I set aside a day and a time I'll have a better chance of getting it done.

Of course, even getting these lessons down doesn't have all my bases covered. I would also like to teach the boys about our faith and religion. I thought about squeezing it in with Music and Art, but then I realized our church already has a good system set up for teaching our children about these very things. I just needed to start doing it. Our church likes it's members to set aside time on Monday evenings for family time. We call it "Family Home Evening". Usually we have a prayer, a song, a scripture, a lesson and a treat. We decided to start making the extra effort to hold Family Home Evenings in our home.

This week we had a fun lesson where we learned about our first prophet, Joseph Smith. I left clues around the house, yard and park to help us learn about how Joseph Smith restored the Gospel to the Earth. The first clue led us to the boys room where we found scriptures. We read James 1:5 and then we were instructed to go outside and find the next clue. Each clue talked about the different things Joseph experienced while he was searching for a church to join.






Our Family Home Evenings also have a little history lesson tied into them. My husband and I decided to learn about the different counties in Utah. Our plan is to pick a county, learn about it and then take a trip there to see the sites. Unfortunately, without a set time to learn about said counties, we've been stuck on the same one all summer. We'll make it work someday. I decided our FHE history lessons could rotate with our "lesson" history lessons, so right now we're talking about the United States-- but, believe you me, when we get back to state history we are going to learn all we can about that county.

My skills aren't much. But, in the end, they help my family learn and grow. And that is all they really need to do. It would be nice if they could help me bring in some sort of an income. But the smiles on my kids faces is priceless! So I'll take what money can't buy.

Silly Complex's

Motherhood brings on a lot of unexpected things. I think some of the most unexpected things for me are those silly little thoughts and complex's. What's most interesting is, when faced with certain situations, you feel things that you never dreamed you would. For example when we were faced with unemployment a couple Christmas' ago, and needed insurance because of our upcoming bundle of joy, we talked about my husband enlisting in the army. I, of course, felt the expected things like nerves, being anxious and wondering if I could handle being an Army Wife. But, along with that, came a feeling that people might think I was selfish to risk my husbands life just so we could have money and benefits. I don't know why I felt that way. I certainly don't think that of any woman I know who's husband has joined the army. I mostly just admire them and their strength. But still I felt it, and I never expected it.

I can't say I ever expected wanting to be pregnant-- and I mean ever. Nor did I expect wanting another baby so soon after having twins. But here I am with three kids, 18 months apart. It's not something I would recommend, but I have to say I personally like it.

Now that I have been pregnant it's hard to go back to those days of simply having a monthly cycle. Now so many mixed emotions have to come with my monthly gift. Even now, when I may be on my way to thinking of another baby but certainly not ready for another pregnancy, I find every month I'm anxious to know if that lovely thing will show it's face. It doesn't help that the symptoms are the same. I get moody, thirsty, my chest swells a little, tired, etc. These signs show their face and I start calculating when my last period was. I'm usually a week away. Then the tension starts.

"Is it going to come? Do I want it to come? Will I be happy or sad if it comes?" These are the questions I always ask myself.

Usually it's right on time. I can handle that. I know it isn't our time to be pregnant and I'm OK with that. But then there are the months that it's a little late.

"Just take a test," my husband says.

I hate taking the tests. I don't like to take them unless I'm 95% sure they will say yes. I don't know why. I'm really not ready for another pregnancy. But even so, it's the same now as it was right after I had the last one, I don't like to see the negative result on that test.

This happened this month. I finally decided to take the test. I was pretty late. Seconds after the test read negative my monthly gift showed up. I mean really. Does taking the test somehow trigger it? Not only did I waste the money, but I wasted emotional stress.

Sometimes I wonder if I feel this way because my moodiness and tiredness being linked to bringing another miracle in this world would at least bring about a greater sense of worth.

It's bad enough that each month I have to face the fact that my emotional outbursts have no merit, but I've also been struggling with being a little backed up lately and this brings on another whole set of fun complex's. Realization of this problem came about when it got so severe one morning I visited the emergency room. Ever since I've really had to watch my diet and try to take in a lot of fiber. The problem is no fun, and one of the most embarrassing things I've had to deal with yet. But that's not the worst part. Along with it comes nausea, aches in my hips and back, hot flashes and movements in my tummy. This makes the problem itself much more difficult to face. Feeling pregnant is so much easier to handle when it's about bringing a child into the world-- not about being unable to go to the bathroom.

Another complex I'm facing lately might seem a little strange to some. I have three beautiful boys. And I mean beautiful. I know this sounds like bragging but my motherly adoration's have been confirmed on several occasions. My OB commented on the twins all the time. He even said they could date his daughter. All of my boys have been mistaken for girls on several occasions. And I get told a lot that they should be in a magazine.

My youngest one in particular is one of the most beautiful babies you've ever seen. I used to look at him when he was a newborn and just think, "You are so nice to look at. I could just look at you for hours."

He has fair skin, blue eyes and blonde hair. He gets mistaken for a girl even more than his brothers did. The problem with this is that he was supposed to be my girl. When I got pregnant with him I just knew I was going to have a girl. OK maybe I didn't know it would be a girl, but another boy just didn't sound right. When I found out he was a boy my heart dropped. Not simply because he was a boy, but because I felt I had lost my girl. When we finally met him last September I just looked at him and thought, "I'm glad you're here. And I'm glad you're not a girl, but it was just so hard to get you here. Couldn't you have brought a sister with you?"



I don't spend my days wishing he was a girl. There were very colicky times when I may have wished I hadn't had that crazy idea to get pregnant. But I honestly don't wish him to be a girl. But still when he's mistaken for one my heart sinks a little. Here these people think I have two boys and a girl when really I don't know what it's like to have a girl at all. To them I do, but I know I don't.

Sometimes I look at him and say, "You're just too pretty to be a boy."

I get a little sad again. Sometimes I find it hard to look at him. I know that sounds crazy but it's true. I guess it just reminds me that, pretty as he is, I still don't have a daughter and I may never have one.

We've had a rocky road this baby and I. When we first met I wasn't sure if he wanted to be a part of our family. We struggled through the first 3 months. Both hoping things would get better. I let his Dad take on a lot because I just didn't have the patience I needed for him. He wanted constant attention. He always wanted to be held, couldn't be left in a room alone and just seemed really needy compared to his brothers. I'm just not that type of mother. I like kids that can entertain themselves. That can be content while I get a little work done. I play with my kids, but we can all enjoy it more if I'm not thinking about all the stuff I need to get done. When we came out of the colicky and indigestion haze I found I had a son who was completely enthralled with his mother. How this happened? I do not know. But I'm glad because it helps me feel that I wasn't so terrible to him. Maybe there were moments of love and happiness. He some how came to feel safe and content with me amid all the screaming and crying. And that brings a little comfort to me.

I love all my boys. Most days I'm perfectly happy raising three gentlemen. Even if sometimes my silly little complex's say otherwise. I can't ignore them. It's probably not a good idea to smother them. I guess all I can do is just acknowledge them and try to figure out how I really feel.

Nursery Days

Our church has a nursery that the little kids enter when they are 18 months old. The kids play in there while the parents go to their other meetings. It sounds lovely right?22 Well, getting my kids to go to nursery was a huge trial. I cried over it several times. Almost every week I'd come home saying, "I'm not doing this anymore. They can just come to the meetings with me." I guess my situation was a bit more exhausting considering my husbands work schedule has him gone every Sunday. But still the transition to nursery is not a fun thing.



Growing up in the church I had known about the chaos that could ensue when children were first left alone in nursery or primary. The general rule, that my family always agreed worked best, was to just leave the kid crying or not. Chances are as soon as you left, the kid would calm down and all would be well.

This rule has worked well for me with babysitters. I just tell the sitters the plan, make sure they are OK with the idea and then execute. I usually come back to find all was well.

Well, this rule didn't work well with nursery. The boys would cry and cry until they finally came and got us.

The leaders told me that I needed to sit in nursery with them until they got more comfortable in there. I didn't like this idea. If I'm going to be in nursery than give me a nursery calling. I mostly didn't like it because I didn't know what the boundaries were. Should I help my kids? Is that what the leaders want? In my mind, having worked as an aide at a school, I'd prefer the parents to stand back and let me handle it. That way the kid learns to respond to me and not just the parents. But what if the leaders didn't agree. I also didn't know if I should just be a fly on the wall or if I should help with the other kids. The whole thing was a raging conflict that left me exhausted every week. This sort of thing is especially hard for a person obsessed with doing things the right way all the time, like me.



I tried to ask friends what they would recommend, or what they think was expected and they didn't know either. I told my mom about my frustrations and she said in so many words, "As long as you're in there with them they aren't going to learn to adjust. You need to be out of the room in order for them to get used to it. Otherwise you're going to be stuck in there." I agreed. But leaving them wasn't working. The leaders tried to find times for me to just sneak out. But this just added to the boys insecurities. Every time the door opened they would quickly scan the room. Sometimes I'd sit outside the room, in case there was a problem, and every time the door opened my boys would just cry. The sound of the door opening had become a trigger to them. It seemed to make them feel scared and it definitely upset them. I felt overwhelmed, exhausted and out of my league. I couldn't solve this problem.



Then one Sunday a neighbor put a thought into my head. She said that they would go in and sit with their kids and instead of sneaking out they would tell the child they were leaving, assure them they would be back and then they would walk out. This sounded like it could work. So I tried it. It didn't work great, but it worked better.

I then decided what we needed was a good routine. After all the solution to all other chaotic things in our lives was schedules and routines. Well if anything was chaotic nursery was. I would bound up the stairs, dragging the twins while holding a baby, a car seat and a diaper bag. I would them try to free one hand to open the door and shove the twins in. Binkies, toys, blankies? I didn't have time to check to see if they still had these in hand. Obviously this was part of our problem.

So I came up with a plan. First we would walk up to nursery calmly. We'd set our stuff down. I'd ask the twins to put their toys, blankies and binkies away. I would then talk to them about all the fun they would have in nursery and I would assure them I would be back to pick them up. Well we tried it one week. And it worked. I just had to talk to them until they were ready to walk in themselves. They did wonderfully in nursery. I was so happy and proud of my boys!

Of course, not all problems are solved. There were still weeks they wouldn't go. The leaders and others would try to help. But this would only make it worse. The boys would get nervous because they would think they were being forced to do something they didn't want to do. The leaders would ask me to come in with them, but I just thought, "I'm not stepping foot in that room again. I appreciate you trying to help but please just let me can handle this."

I'd shy off to a corner and try to talk to them and calm them down. When that didn't work I'd take them to class with me. I wouldn't give them snacks or toys-- they had to go to nursery to get those. And I would make them simply sit there and they weren't allowed to move. Everyone was impressed with how well behaved my children were. Little did they know I was actually upset with them. Finally they would get bored and then I could convince them to go to nursery.

Now the boys walk into nursery no problem. I can't always get their binkies away from them, but I don't complain. I'm glad we found our own little solution. I don't know why I expected anything else from my children. After all they have a defiant mother who doesn't like to be forced into things. The decision had to be there's. Thank goodness we figured that out. I think this will be a great stepping stone for all of us.

Welcome to Thomasville

It all started when we spent A Day Out With Thomas. Now every day is A Day Out With Thomas. Yes, we have a new obsession at our house. And if any of you have little boys I'm sure you've experienced it too.



The boys have realized the Thomas and Friends craze. And we have too.

Now don't get me wrong. I think it's a cute show. I like it more than other things that are out there. Especially the new ones that are computer animated-- I can understand liking these more than I can understand liking the model train ones, but that's only because when I was little I didn't like shows where the characters mouths didn't move. What I just don't get is what is it about this show that causes my kids to be completely and utterly obsessed. They eat sleep and breath Thomas. Every word that comes out of their mouths is either "Thomas" or "Grandma". You turn it on for them and for the next 30 minutes they'll yell in your ear, "It's Thomas!"

We need to get our hand on some Thomas toys so I can distract them with those every once in a while. We have one Thomas, that we inherited from a nephew, and I bet you can guess how well sharing that one Thomas between two obsessed kids went. Luckily the less obsessive one would be happy with one of the freight cars. We finally got another Thomas toy and I thought, "Great now they can each have a Thomas." I should have known better. My little twin has an obsessive personality-- just like his mom. He carried both Thomas' and when I asked him to give one to his brother he would say, "No, No, No!" Since both Thomas' were gifts from Grandma, and neither one was given a specific owner, I didn't feel bad insisting that he share.

I think the worst, or at least craziest, part of the Thomas obsession is how it affects me. I actually get excited when I hear the theme song. I now know the order of the engines number 1-8. I have my favorite episodes and my favorite characters. And the worst part, about being a parent with a child that has an obsession, is I want to buy them everything Thomas-- it used to be everything Cars. I just love how excited they get about it. It makes my day!

Well here's to hoping we survive the Thomas days. At the rate I'm going it looks like I'll have plenty of boys to live through it with.

Beware of Saturday the 14th

For who knows how long there has been a superstitious belief that Friday the 13th is a day of bad luck. Well I am here to put those fears to rest. The real day to worry about is Saturday the 14th. It's true! When I was a young preteen my friend and I made the discovery that Saturday the 14th really was a day not to be messed with. And that still holds true. Now, I'm not a superstitious person, but I still find it odd that most of my Saturdays the 14th are filled with incidents of bad luck.

This Saturday the 14th proved no differently.



The day started like any other. I noticed it looked stormy outside, but within an hour it started to clear and I had hopes of enjoying a lovely spring day. I woke up the children and found the baby to be soaked. That's OK though because his diapers sometimes have a hard time making it through the night. I cleaned him up and got everybody breakfast. Then I went to change my twins. They smelled of pee. I discovered the problem. The cloth diaper they were wearing was not packed for overnight. I was going to just change their clothes and call it good, but they smelled so bad I threw them in the tub to take a quick shower. Then I put there clothes in the sink to soak. One twin didn't like the shower so I got him out quickly. The other wanted to stay in. I went to check on the twin that got out. He had peed on my bed. I guess I will be changing my sheets today.

As I pulled the sheets off, and went to throw them downstairs, I stepped in a puddle of water. My immediate thought was the twin in the shower, but he was not the culprit. The truly guilty one was the overflowing sink which I had left on, in order to soak the boys clothes. The bathroom was flooded beyond words. I grabbed some towels. I began to get a little frustrated at this point.

I went downstairs and threw the bedding in the washer and went to clear off my memory card. We were going on a fun outing and I wanted to be sure I had room enough for all the new pictures. While that was a joke and a half. My husband just switched computers and I had to do a little song and dance to finally get the pictures switched over. Then I heard a crash. The baby had fallen off the bed.



I went upstairs to make sure he was OK and sat him back on the bed, towards the middle. Then went downstairs to complete some more tasks before it was time for us to go on our outing. Well I found the boys' room had reaped some of the flooding from the sink upstairs. There was a nice sized puddle that I had to clean up. And then I heard another crash. The baby had fallen off the bed again. I went upstairs and sat him on the floor this time.

Finally my dad come to pick us up and take us to a local grocery store that was holding a "Pirate Party", in celebration of the new "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie. See, my husband was at work all weekend so my Dad came to help me get there all in one piece. I was a little frazzled and apologized for not being ready. I started to put the baby in his car seat when I noticed some red stuff all over his cute pirate outfit. What had I given him that could've gotten his outfit all dirty like this. Then I realized it was blood. So I cleaned up the outfit, found the cut on his finger and cleaned that up as well. Then I went to get the twins shoes and came back to find that they both had pooped. I changed their diapers and out the door we went.



That bright sunny day, I was telling you about, had now turned back into a dark and cloudy one, literally. There was thunder and lightening the whole drive to the grocery store-- which was in a different city. One lightening bolt came so close I swear it hit the freeway.

We finally arrived at the "Pirate Party". We had just gotten everyone out of the car when a big gust of wind came up and wreaked havoc on all the cabanas and blow up toys they had set up. One man walked by and said, "We're shutting down!"

Well my mom got the boys some tattoos. I took a picture of my nephew by the pirate ship, and someone brought me a plate of food. My mom asked if I wanted to get a picture of the boys by the Pirate ship I said sure, but in doing so I lost my uneaten plate of food to another gust of wind. The employees were anxious to get the Pirate ship down, so with all the fuss, to get the boys to look and to not throw fits, I didn't get a very good picture.

We migrated inside and my mom helped me clean up my shirt-- which was now stained with blood from the baby and some chocolate from the Popsicle the twins had. She apologized for the mess with the "Pirate Party" and for not telling me to come sooner. I told her, "It's just been that kind of a day. This just goes along with the rest of it."

After sharing my woes with someone, and enjoying a nice lunch, the rest of the day didn't seem quite so bad. Even when the baby pooped up his back and the weather decided to be bipolar it still didn't get me down like it did earlier. It's funny how the bad seems so horrible when I'm going through it, but as soon as its over I can't help but think, "That was it? It's over? Why did I get so upset?"

Where is My Fairytale?

I don't live in a castle with servants waiting on me hand and foot. I don't dress in pretty dresses, wear a smile and dance and sing to my children-- well at least not everyday. My husband and I get by on cloth diapers and homemade wipes. Yet still I look at my life and feel I'm the princess who found her prince.



Cheesy as it may sound. Corny as I may be. I can't help but enjoy daydreaming of waltzing with my handsome prince in a grand ballroom while an orchestra plays our song. And knowing that, at my request, this dream can come true, as long as I'm willing to substitute our fine living room for a ballroom and my old 90's style stereo as an orchestra, is just icing on the cake.



So maybe I didn't get the ideal fairytale. Perhaps to the world it doesn't seem as though I'm living the dream. But somehow all my handsome princes make me feel just like those princess' I idolized growing up.

Yes, at times I feel more like the wicked old step mother than the princess. Sometimes even a magic mirror cannot make me feel young an beautiful. Life is hard. There are times I wish I could fill out my resignation and put in my two weeks notice. But the hard times make the happy times all the better.

I Understand

I was standing in line at a fabric store. My plan was to run in and out quick as can be. Well, the store had other plans. Who knew in the middle of the week, on a sunny afternoon, the fabric store was the place to be. I had to grab a number, and wait to be called, to get my fabric cut. I was two numbers away. Well that's not too bad right? I thought about backing out. It was nap time and I just wanted to get my kids home and to bed. The time was drawing near when a nap would be obsolete and we'd have to just skip it and wait till bedtime.

Then I was only one number away. "OK," I thought, "I can wait. I'm sure I'll get called any minute."

Well I waited. . .and waited. . .and waited. . .and. . .You get the idea. I started muttering things under my breath like, "I should have never come in here", "This is ridiculous", "One number away and they can't call it". My husband, who had time to go and fetch the car, came back in and I told him all about my frustrations. Then finally they called a number! Well, it was the number after mine. Then something wonderful happened. The lady standing next to me says, "Here that's my number. Trade me so you can go."

Well she ended up being able to keep her number because mine was the one before, but still what a lovely gesture.

It was later that I thought, "Now that is truly how one should help a stressed mom in a stressed situation."

Sometimes people confront mothers in an attempt to protect the children, but this usually just frustrates moms more and doesn't really improve the situation. I think instead of accusing or lecturing one should simply say, "Do you need a hand?"

Now I am not one that can do this. I am one that usually notices needs around me, but my shyness keeps me from acting. Luckily I have a wonderful husband whom will offer the help for me when I mention the need-- though I am getting better at offering myself.

I'm usually one that doesn't respond well to lectures or counseling. I don't like to feel as though I'm the only one who has experienced the emotions and frustrations of motherhood. I truly respond best to people when they simply say, "I understand."

And even though the words never came out of my Good Samaritans mouth. I feel her actions said it for her.