2. Easter

 It was lovely. We did many traditional Easter activities: Egg hunt, egg dyeing, baskets of candy left by the Easter Bunny, etc.

The egg hunt was at my brother-in-law's work, and they had different hunts for different age groups. So Risa got to go first--and Coren was a little confused and uncertain about why we were letting Risa walk out and gather eggs and not him. But then he got his turn, and all was well. The bunny was kind-of funny and awesome--he had no big bunny head mask. Just a dude in a bunny suit. But Chad and I thought it rather fitting, considering the day before we had gone through all the scariest Easter Bunny mascots on the internet! Ha! So extra points for going sans mask, bunny man!

We also had the kiddos watch He Is Risen, the short Living Scriptures video about the Resurrection. Okay... they watched the first ten minutes, more or less. But it's the intention, right? Maybe next year will be fifteen... etc... etc.

And Chad's family all came over to our place for Easter dinner.... I was actually really thrilled to be able to host it at our house--I always like an excuse to do a fancy meal! So we made chicken cordon bleu (which, yes, is fancy, but is also deceptively easy--I mean, super super easy!) and couscous and vegetables and fantastic, fluffy, peach jello (that was the hit with all the little chickens.... though I was pleasantly surprised at how much they enjoyed the chicken as well). It was informal and relaxing, and really lovely just to sit together and smile.

And we got to hear our brother-in-law sing in his ward--one of my very favorite church songs--"Savior, Redeemer of My Soul" (with yes, the lyrics from the hymnbook, but different music--way more moving and beautiful)... And really, that was all I would have needed to focus my heart on the Savior. The words to that song truly resonate every time I hear it. However, to add to the splendor of the day, both speakers (in our home ward and the in-laws' ward) read the final conference talk given by Elder Bruce R. McConkie, which is another moving testimony to the unmatched gift of Christ's Atonement. I went away with my heart full, reflecting again on the emptiness of a life without a Savior...

or even just the casual idea that is growing in this world that I can get by without one.... How complicated your life must get, I think. Because say what you will; for me, the real peace in life comes by embracing the gift of Jesus Christ, not ducking it or denying it. My life is simple, beautiful, happy, peaceful, full of a joy that doesn't wax and wane with life's challenges and inconsistencies--and that is ALL from knowing I have a Savior who loves me. It's not a perfect life, but oh, tis a perfect one for me!

On a Lighter Note...

Here's what we've been up to this last month:

1. Our weekend getaway to SLC!

It was really a lovely little "stay-cation" for us--and probably the last time we'll get to have a night to ourselves, sans children, for the next little while.

We went up to SLC on Friday night for The Ting Tings Concert! Hooray for more concerts!! The opening performer was probably the most interesting I've ever seen (and we've seen a LOT of opening acts)... A solo performer--or musical project, as is the proper term--with a super high tech synthesizer and a mic. And I'm pretty sure she was wearing an S&M getup over a gold 80's dress shirt. She was actually rather talented, and talk about self-confidence! I couldn't go it alone, I don't think. I'd need a band behind me.

And then the Ting Tings! Supremely entertaining! We love that little British duo, with all their quirks and energy and style. And we even got to see the drummer's eyes! Yes, the sunglasses flew off during one of the songs. It was really fun to see him just rock it on those drums--so great! And she pretty much has the best legs ever! Really, wow!! Although I did feel old at this concert--first time that's ever happened to me! I kept watching the place fill up with these little kids (realizing later that they were probably mostly college students), and I think there were maybe two or three other couples older than us! Huh. But it was worth the age-increased reality check--the show rocked!

That night we got to stay at the Marriot in Park City, thanks to a friend and co-worker of Chad's. A night away, in a fancy hotel, and no kids around--you BET we fell asleep while surfing through TV channels! Incredible us!! :)

We spent Saturday morning strolling down Park City main street... I may need to go back, because most of the fun art galleries were still closed when we left. But what a quaint little tourist town. And a fabulous bookstore--Atticus Books--which we simply had to peruse because 1) it was a really fantastic little bookstore, and 2) that's one of the current possible names for this upcoming offspring.

Saturday afternoon we strolled through the new City Center... Ha! Kind-of hilarious for me, actually. I mean, the place is rather lovely and impressive. But as I walked through, all I could think was, "Well, I don't know that I'll ever have another reason to come here ever again." Really--Tiffany's? Brooks Brothers? Porsche? We are apparently not their target tax bracket.... And I thought the ads all over the city were rather fitting as well--these beautiful models with faraway looks that just emanate a "you're not nearly rich or swank enough to shop at these stores" kind of advertising. Made me chuckle.

And we ended it all with the fun. concert that night. To be honest, Chad and I were a little thrown off when we showed up that night to the same venue--which had housed a few hundred the previous night--and found  a line of thousands of eager fans snaking around the block. We were trying to figure out where in the world they were going to stuff everyone. And we were amazed to see how much they've exploded since we saw them at Kilby Court (talk about an intimate venue--a couple hundred, perhaps?) a couple of years ago, after their debut album was released. It's fun (hee hee) to see the bands you love get the attention they deserve, isn't it? Although there's also a little snobby indie-fan in us somewhere that always hopes they never get too mainstream. Ah well.

Then they herded us in, and we had to pause--it looked nothing like the building we were in the previous night... apparently we had been in just a small wing of the building. Anyway, everyone fit without a problem. And the show was AMAZING! They've always been really musically impressive, but they were definitely more polished this time. And the ENERGY! Holy smokes! What a perfect name they've given themselves, because that is precisely what the night was--fun! Lots of it! Waves of energy! So fabulous!!

And no, I didn't make it through the entire show... I think, from now on, my concert cutoff must be around six months pregnant. Eight months is just to big. But I don't regret this show, not one bit; not even if I finished the last set of songs sitting on one of the boxes in the back. So worth it! What a show!!

And so ended our little weekend stay-cation... Thanks a million to uber-fantastic in-laws who took turns watching our kids, so we could runaway and be single again for 48 hours! We needed it!

Haunted

I can't sleep. Again.

Not because I'm pregnant, though that does its share of damage.

No. I can't sleep anymore because I'm haunted.
Truly. It's bad.

I have a few friends who have told me about the horrific dreams they have only when they're pregnant. Dreams about awful things happening to family and loved ones. Dreams that keep them up.

Funny, I thought. Because for all of my life, my dreams have been ultra-vivid. Like being in a movie. Or a book. With deep, dynamic plot lines and danger and fear and love and romance and all those elements. And they always feel real, while I'm in them. Real enough that sometimes Chad is forced to listen to me talk them away at two in the morning, so that I can fade back into sleep without a stomach knotted with fear. So it was funny, I thought, that some of my friends were getting their first taste of that during pregnancy.

And now, with my third pregnancy nearing its end, I realize that I had no idea what they were really saying when they told me they had bad dreams. No idea. None at all.

Because NOW I am haunted with bad dreams.
Awful, horrific dreams. About my children. And death.
And I didn't know what it felt like to have a dream fit just like a reality before.

But now I do. Oh man!

I feel the soul of myself shatter to fragments as I pull my little girl's crushed body from beneath a car. I cannot even breathe as I look at the blood. I cannot bring myself to even look at her face, because I know it's not there anymore. I am literally suffocating. Because nothing about this is a dream. It is too real, too awfully, horrifically, devastatingly real. And I wake up gasping for air, for life, for a miracle.

Or I am sobbing, sobbing uncontrollably as I try to explain to my husband, who just got home from work, that now Coren is dead. Risa died last week, unexplainably, and now his boy is dead too. But I can't explain because I can't even speak. My body is wrenched, wracked with a pain that has no words. And he waits for the news, while I sit in a heap on the floor, wondering why I'm still alive. And all I can get out is, "Oh Honey, why did we ever have kids? How will I ever get through this?" And I cry, and I cry, and I cry. And I wake up to my own heavy sobbing.

And Chad silently moves to my side of the bed and puts his arms around me. The dark room and his warm body jar me out of the dream. And it was a dream. I can breathe a sigh of relief. Except it doesn't come yet. Even in the reality of my safe little bed, in my safe little home, with my living, breathing family, I am haunted. For ten minutes I cry and shudder with fear, with my face buried in my husband's chest. And the dream slowly fades away. But not nearly fast enough. And even with my mind completely reassured that the scene was a figment, a dream, I have this intense need to go into my kids' rooms and feel their chest rising and falling. To scoop them up and hold them and just breathe, breathe with them and feel their warm, living bodies in my arms.

I hope this is a symptom of this one single pregnancy. I hope I don't experience these with the next one. I don't think I could do it, keep growing more children, while my nights are haunted with the loss of those I already have. I don't know that I can do it for eight more weeks. It is too awful. It is too haunting.

I need a dream with unicorns. And Care Bears. And rainbows. And laughing children running along the beach. That is what I need. How do I fix that up?

Choices & Changes

"And you are the mother

The mother of your baby child

The one to whom you gave life

And you have your choices

And these are what make man great

His ladder to the stars"

-Mumford & Sons, "Timshel"

(Tea Lights Mae and Bebe, by Kat....

See more of her lovely art at http://www.etsy.com/shop/kathannah)

I have been dwelling on the theme of choices lately... Really, our whole household, since we're making a concerted effort to teach choice and accountability to our firstborn these days. And it's sinking in; he's starting to get it.

And my husband and I have myriad choices to make in the next few weeks and months: Our car is/has been broken....Do we buy an older car? Do we get a loan and buy a not-so-old car? Our computer is on it's deathbed....What kind of computer do we replace it with? When? And Baby #3 is coming.... What do we name him? Where do we put him? Where do we put the other two little chickens? What if we just had him here at home instead of a hospital this time?

See, choices. Big and small.

And I made choices at the beginning of this year. Personal choices that would drive me and challenge me. That would make me a better me at the close of the year. And I think it's working.

It was discouraging for a while. I had made changes, and I saw no results. I was making a concerted effort, and yet there was nothing to see; no greater serenity; no sense of enlightenment. Hm.

But I made a choice to keep going. Day after day after day. Choosing not to climb onto the computer in the mornings--spend the time playing puzzles and balls and books with my little chickens. Doing a mini-preschool with my son. Choosing not to climb onto the computer immediately after I put the kids down for naps. And choosing not to turn on Netflix either. Choosing, instead, a home project or a book or a personal project. Choosing to read and meditate. Choosing to plan and organize. Choosing to work on my talents, some I've kind-of cast along the wayside in the last few years.

Choosing to focus on encouraging my kids, rather than scolding them. Choosing to listen to their incessant questions and requests and pointless stories with enthusiasm rather than exasperation. Choosing to really look at them, everyday....so that I am reminded, everyday, of their divinity, their wonder, their imaginations, their innate ambition for only love and embracing. Choosing to see them with their tabula rasa; and my connected responsibility to fill that slate with decency and moral confidence and a sense of unbounded worth. Choosing to kneel down on the floor--often quite literally--and see the world from their perspective, with their simplicity, and refrain from mucking it up with our very grown-up absolute nonsense. Choosing to stand in awe of them, rather than running in exhaustion from them (okay, not really that dramatically; but, moms, you know what I mean).

And it's working. My day has more smiles than frowns, more sounds of laughter than of anger. I feel peaceful. I am full of hope and excitement for this next little dude. I am proud to report to my hard-working husband at the end of the day. I feel productive and efficient. And yes, I still have a long way to go. And, in all honesty, there are a few of my resolutions that really haven't even been touched. But the big ones, the important ones, the change-me-inwardly ones, those are the ones I chose to do and keep doing. And I am finally seeing hints of change. And it feels.... nice. Not awesome or breathtaking. Nice. In a peaceful, harmonious, kind-of zen way. Good. Comforting. Encouraging.

And so I think I'll choose to do even a little better tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after. I'll keep choosing to do, so I continue to feel... well, good. Because my life was always good--now it's getting better.

Just wondering

My hubby is a how-things-work kind of guy.

A technical man.

Really, I think, a genius.

He can figure out how something works, 

take it apart,

put it back together,

without instructions or manuals.

It's just how his brain works.

So is it weird that sometimes,

out of the blue,

when he makes a really deep comment

about human nature

or literature

or art,

I am immediately turned on??

Mmm, my hubby!

Words, Words, Words

Okay, I must stop playing word games.

It's getting a little out of hand.

At 2:30 in the morning, after taking my midnight bathroom run,

I am lying awake in bed....

Putting words together.

Picking my own six-letter combination,

And seeing how many words I can make from the six letters.

In my head.

Not even on a screen!

And I even stress myself out,

At 2:30 in the morning, 

with no screen,

By counting down the time on some imaginary clock.

I think I might be obsessed.

And I need a break from words.

But first....

What seven-letter word can you make with T-R-I-O-G-N-S???

Sleeping...

It's on my mind this week.... and not just because I'm six months pregnant now, so it's become rather elusive for me. It's really my kids I've been thinking about--their own sleeping habits. Because I am a selfish mother; I have already come to terms with that, admitted it. Not to say I'm not working on it, but selflessness is not my natural state of being just yet. Not nearly. So I really, really covet my kids' nap time. It's my Me Time, my time to do my things; to hear my own thoughts again in a quiet house; to get things done without them being undone behind me; to be someone other than a mother.

My kids must know this on some level because their sleeping habits of late have been rather disappointing.... little scamps! Coren is trying to decide whether he even needs a nap at all anymore. So some days he just doesn't take one. Not a minute of shut-eye. No sir! (In his defense, he still plays quietly in his room for an hour or so....but then he's done, and he wants out.) And Risa--well, she's always been hot and cold. She just isn't the napper her brother once was, and two hours is really a long stretch for her. I know--two hours! That should be enough for me, right? But too often it isn't. Too often the selfish me comes out and I grumble as I walk over and open their doors. And bang! There goes my Me Time, my state of peace. Gone.

But this week, my kids have been a little sick. Just a little--they got touched with hints of a cold; and it's been just enough to wipe them out in the afternoons. We've had good long naps this week. And it's been really quite lovely.

But the sleep I've been thinking about happened on a quiet afternoon just three days ago. My kiddos had been down for an hour--a mere hour!--and here came Risa's cries through the vent. Bleh. So I grudgingly made my way downstairs to get her. But she was obviously not ready to be awake. As I pulled her up into my arms and came up the stairs, she threw her hands over her eyes and tucked her head under my chin, trying to block out the daylight. And she whimpered through her little snot-encrusted face and mouth. Poor thing! Well, it doesn't matter how selfish I'm feeling, my sick kids never leave me untouched. So I wiped her face off, and I made my way to my room. I got us both snuggled down into my bed, and Risa immediately fell asleep again, doing her best to breathe through her congested passageways. And I just laid there and watched her....

And she is beautiful. I just studied the way her long dark lashes cast shadows on her cheeks (a gorgeous feature both children inherited from their gorgeous father). The roundness of her cheek, which refuses to go svelte, even if the rest of her is thinning out. Her lips puckered out, so she could snore her way through her nap, with just enough space to glimpse her cute little gap teeth. She had one arm tucked behind her head, pillowing her. She was just perfect there. Really. And I think I watched her like that for a half-hour--the most precious Me Time of the week!

I was super-tempted, actually, to creep into Coren's room and watch him too--I really wanted to! But sadly, the other me took over again, and I just couldn't risk waking the boy up. But I imagined what he looked like.... curled in his favorite fetal position. Just at the edge of his bed, so his knees hang over, but nothing else. He sleeps silently, with his mouth closed, like his dad. And his cheeks go rosy--my favorite part. And his lashes look the same as his sister's, and his dad's. And every now and then, he re-situates his head on his pillow, taking a deep breath, but never coming up from his deep sleep. I have watched him sleep before.

I have beautiful children. Rascals in the day, but all innocence again in sleep. It's good to look at them like that again, every once in a while. To remember that. And hold it for a moment. Because I'm sure, any minute now, Coren will be knocking on his door.....

"Mom-may! I'm AWAKE!"

(And no, I don't have pics of them sleeping.... I wasn't about to start clicking and flashing during their naps!)