36

Thursday was my 36th birthday. My sweet neighbor and friend Amy offered to watch my kids so I could go out with Scott. I picked morning, so she'd only have to watch Owen (the older 4 were at school and Nate was at preschool). We dropped the kids off at school, then headed to the Red Cross to donate blood together. I realize that seems like a strange thing to pick to do, but they had been calling me to see when I could come donate blood, and I can't do it when I have the kids, so I thought it would be great if Scott and I did it together while we were kidless. I squeaked by on the hemoglobin count (you have to be 12.5 or higher, and I was 12.5), and had a nice successful donation till the very end. My bag was full, and I was just waiting for them to come take the needle out, when I suddenly started feeling sick. Next thing I know, I'm fighting to stay conscious, and not doing a very good job of it. I was totally unaware of the whole process of taking the needle out. All I was aware of was them saying, "Open your eyes, I need you to open your eyes", and I was trying very hard to, but not really able to. After a few minutes (I think, I wasn't really aware of how long it really took), I was ok. I apologized and assured everyone that I really was fine, and earned some extra juice just to make sure I wouldn't pass out again when I walked out the door.

After giving blood, Scott and I went out for an early lunch at Kneaders. Then we picked up Nate from preschool, picked up Owen from Amy's, and were home in time to welcome Aaron home from Kindergarten. Scott stuck around for another hour and played with the boys, then had to go in to work for a meeting. I spent the afternoon taking a nap (while Owen napped and Nate and Aaron watched a movie).

When it was time for school to be done, I loaded up the three boys, and we went to pick up the older three from school and drop Savannah off at gymnastics. We headed home for a few minutes for Josh to get changed into his basketball clothes, then I took him to basketball practice. Scott picked up Savannah from gymnastics and took her shopping for birthday presents for me in the half hour they had before it was time for them to pick up Josh from basketball. In the meantime at home, I got a visit from my Relief Society president with a birthday gift, and my dear friend Lisa gave me flowers.

Scott came home with Savannah and Josh at 6:30 with pizza for dinner. Then it was time for presents. I had only asked for one thing--an ironing board. Mine is from college, and really needed replaced. Scott won a Scentsy warmer and wax at staff meeting at work, and passed them on to me as birthday presents, and he and Savannah had picked up some dark chocolate for me. He let each of the kids give one thing, and I let each of them do the opening of the wrapping paper.








When it came time for Scott's gift to me, I closed my eyes while he brought it in, and I tried to act surprised.



Then Scott had me close my eyes again, and said he had one more gift for me. When I opened my eyes and saw the massive box, I instantly knew what it was. The writing on the end of the box "Amaranthine" confirmed my suspicions.

After I painted my walls light gray, I decided I needed a pop of color to add to the room. I started looking for pictures to go above my fireplace, and settled on one that I absolutely loved. A picture of the Salt Lake Temple with a branch of red leaves in front of it. I loved it. But, the enormous price tag scared me off, so I have been searching for something that could compete with that. I finally gave up and decided I could just do with what I currently had, because I couldn't find anything that I loved as much as this particular picture.

My wonderful husband gave me that beautiful picture for my birthday. I cried. A lot. I cried because I knew it was way too expensive for him to get for me. I cried because I was so glad he had gone ahead and spent the money anyway. I cried because this picture speaks peace and beauty, and it's exactly what I want in my living room. I cried a lot.

And then when I finally composed myself, we had ice cream cake.


And now in my living room, above my fireplace, I have my dream picture hanging. I absolutely love it.


It was a great birthday.

Owen at 15 Months

I took Owen to his 15 month check up this week. He's a big kid. I just had to share his percentile growth chart. The top line is the 99th percentile. He's above it on all three measurements.

First we have weight (29 pounds 11 ounces), just above the 99th percentile.

Next we have height (34 inches), even more above the 99th percentile.

And last we have head. He's so far above the 99th percentile, I don't even know what to call it (Scott tells me there's no such thing as over 100 percentile). That little boy has a big head.

Owen's latest thing is to climb onto furniture. He loves that he can climb up onto the couch or chair and sit "like a big kid". He practices getting up and down at least 20 times a day. And each time, he just smiles because he's so proud of himself.





Owen's other great love in life is burp rags. He LOVES them. He pulls them out of my cupboard and just lays in them. He has to have one when he sleeps. He loves them. The other night I was getting whites out of the dryer, and he couldn't resist the lure of warm burp rags. He climbed in and out of the laundry basket over and over--he couldn't get enough of the warm burp rags. It was pretty cute, even if he did make all my whites all wrinkly.





My baby is growing up too fast. He is so independent and capable. He learns new things everyday. I wish he would slow down just a little bit. He certainly keeps me on my toes. It's such a fun age, and we all are enjoying this little guy.

Picture Perfect

After Christmas, Scott was talking with a friend who lives out of state. He told Scott that they had received 50 or 60 Christmas cards, and ours had been their favorite. He said his daughter studied the picture, then announced, "That's it--that's what I want when I grow up. I want that many kids, and they will all be blondies!"

I have to admit, looking from the outside, our family looks picture perfect. We have 6 beautiful kids. Scott has a great paying job. My life is blissfully perfect.

Except I had come to a point, where I couldn't see that anymore. I could see everything behind the picture that no one else sees.

All I could see was the endless work involved with having 6 children. Thankless work. Work that is immediately undone by children who have no idea how long it's taken me to clean. Laundry hampers that fill immediately back up after I've washed and folded the clothes that were in them. Listening to children complain about the food that I've cooked them, ungrateful for the time I've spent trying to come up with something they all will eat.

I have a husband who's great job requires him to travel. Weeks at a time. And when he's not traveling, I have to call him at 6pm to remind him to come home, or he just stays at his office, having lost track of time, working. And when he does come home, he sits on the couch with the laptop working some more. Work is too important to let wait till the morning. Work consumes him.

I have a special needs child. We have to pour tens of thousands of dollars into therapy to help him. He tries my patience constantly, and I have no clue how to help him. I constantly feel judged by other parents because I can't control my child. I try. I can't control my child.

It started with three consecutive months of Alaska travel--being a single parent. It wore me down. Then we had the high of our Disneyland Christmas. That was wonderful, and very much needed. But then we came home to three weeks of the flu. Countless nights of no sleep and cleaning up children's vomit. Three weeks of not leaving the house because I had to care for sick children. Three weeks of exhaustion. Things took a nosedive, and I couldn't pull out of it. I was angry all the time. I lost my temper over the smallest things. I felt trapped and knew there was no way out.

One night, I'd had all I could stand. I found a dark quiet room and sat down against the wall. I fought the urge to run out of the house and never come back. I tried to convince myself that I hadn't completely ruined my life by having all these children. I could hear the kids asking where I had gone, and Scott not seeming too interested in finding me. In my head I was screaming. Screaming for things to change. I needed help.

I gathered my composure, then went to find Scott. I told him I needed help. Seven years ago, I went on medication briefly because of post-partum depression. I knew I hadn't just had a baby to blame this on, but I recognized the same desperation that I had felt clear back then. I knew this wasn't in my control to fix anymore.

And so I went to my doctor, and I got help. I'm on a very low dose of antidepressant, and it has made a world of difference. Shortly after starting the medication, Scott took off for a few hours one day and let me go to lunch with a friend. Getting out allowed me to breath again, and to gain perspective. A week after starting the medication, one night after the kids were in bed, I said to Scott, "I think I'm going to be okay." It was a loaded statement--so much emotion behind it. And Scott knew that. He waited a minute, then agreed, "I think you're going to be okay."

And so life is better. It's not perfect. I still have the work associated with the house and kids. My husband still travels (he's out of town as we speak). But I can see past that. It's not my focus anymore. I have perspective again. I'm happy now (most of the time). And I can look at our family photo and think to myself, "I truly do have it all."

Golf

This week Scott is in Phoenix for three days watching a PGA golf tournament. The first night he was gone, as I was fixing dinner, Savannah and I had the following conversation:

Savannah: "I wish Dad were here."
Me: "Me too."
Savannah: "Where did he go?"
Me: "Phoenix. He gets to watch a golf tournament."
Savannah: "Seriously? A golf tournament? Couldn't he just watch it on TV?"
Ummm, yeah.

Next week he gets to spend 4 days away in Monterey, California playing golf by day and attending fancy dinner parties at night. Such a life. He invited me to come, but obviously he forgot that we have SIX kids and SOMEONE has to stay home and take care of them. Life really isn't fair.

Fighting the Winter Blahs

I hate winter. As a thyroid patient, I'm always cold, but especially in winter. I freeze all winter. And with a baby, I'm forced to stay indoors most of the winter. I go stir crazy and dream of seeing the sun again. In an effort to fight the winter blahs, I announced to Scott that we needed to paint. We've had this gorgeous deep brown on our living room walls for 6 years now. I loved it when it was the piano room, because it made it a focal room. The deep color made the room stand out, and we spent very little time in there, so it was ok that it was dark.

But after we moved the piano to the office, and made the living room a tv room, it's become the room that we spend most of our time in. I needed light in there. I needed bright and cheery, not dark and brown. So I painted.


The wall color is a light gray. It makes the black media console that we built really pop out. We are in the process of making matching end tables to match the media console. And I made new curtains.



I really love the way the room turned out. The lighter color makes such a difference in opening up the room. It feels open and airy, and I love it. The only thing I don't like is how my old green couches look now. They really don't go with the new color scheme. But with the added expense of Aaron's therapy, there isn't money in the budget for new furniture. So, I'll live with them a while longer. We've had them since college, and they've held up great, so I'll just have to ignore the color and keep them a while longer.

Snow

After going this whole winter with no snow (not even in the mountains), last week we finally got a snowstorm. I bundled up the little boys to go out and play, while I shoveled the driveway. Later in the day, the snow turned to rain, and by the next day, all of it had disappeared, so the older kids didn't get a chance to play in it. Hopefully we'll get more snow on a weekend so the older three will get a chance to play in it too.


After we came in from playing, Aaron shed all of his wet snowy clothes, and headed upstairs to change. He came down dressed like this....

Seven shirts all layered on top of each other. He remembered that I had dressed them in layers at Disneyland to stay warm, so he thought it would be a great way to stay warm at home after playing in the snow. I love the way his brain thinks!