Primary

For almost three years I have been the Primary President in our ward.  For those who don't know, Primary is the children's Sunday School program in our church.  On any given Sunday, this was around 60 children ages 3-11, plus the 30+ children in nursery.  (They're 18 months to three years old.)  This meant I was in charge of all the children, their teachers and leaders, quarterly Saturday activities, baptisms, the annual Sacrament Meeting program, Cub Scouts, Activity Days, and etc.

I wasn't alone - I had two wonderful counselors and an excellent secretary.  With their inspired help we were able to mostly stay on top of things.  (I say mostly because kids are so surprising - you never quite know what to expect from them!)

I won't lie.  At times it was a lot of work.

But it was completely worth it.

I have never had a calling that challenged and humbled me so much.  It helped me grow in ways I didn't realize I could, didn't realize I needed!  I learned about the importance organization, time management, delegation, patience, and, most importantly, prayer.  I learned that sometimes you just have to have faith that everything will work out; and, if you work hard and do all that you can and pray a lot, things do. 

I'll let you in on a little secret.  Before I served in Primary I wasn't really a big fan of other people's kids.  Not that I disliked them... it's just that I liked mine so much more!  I just felt like I wasn't really a kid person.  The idea of working with kids kinda freaked me out; it was hard for me to talk to them and relate with them and understand them.  Honestly?  They kinda scared me, mainly because I didn't know what I was doing.

But then I accepted this calling and got to really know the children.  And now?  I love those kiddos.  Love them.  I love their simple, elegant, and complete faith in the gospel.  I love that they are, on the whole, truly good and truly trying to be good.  I love their funny logic and their habit of straying off topic.  I love their acceptance of everyone, no matter how new or different.  I love them.

Not that it was all wonderfully perfect all of the time.  Sometimes kids act out, teachers don't show up, parents get in the way, Sharing Time lessons just don't go according to plan.  I mean, there were Sundays where I just wanted to go hide in a closet and cry because I was so frustrated.  There are Sundays that I did this.  But then I'd get over myself, wipe my eyes, and get back to work.

But those small instances were greatly overshadowed by all of the good experiences.

Yesterday I was released from the calling.  I had been in for a while, I'm having baby number four soon, and it was just time for me to move on.  I definitely have mixed feelings about this.  On one hand, it'll be great to have less responsibility and more spare time.  On the other hand, I'm pretty sure adult Sunday School and Relief Society won't be nearly as entertaining! :)

As of now, I don't have a calling at church, and I probably won't until after the baby comes.  I can't remember a time when I didn't have a calling.  This is very strange to me.  I'm trying to take advantage of this free time, but I'm sure that all too soon I'll be itching to serve in the ward again.


My faith in the gospel and in our Savior, Jesus Christ, grew by leaps and bounds with this calling.  The challenges I faced didn't decrease or challenge this faith; they strengthened it.  I'll always be grateful for these experiences.  I think my feelings can be summed up with the lyrics to a song the children learned last year for the annual theme "I Know My Savior Lives".  (I still cry every time I hear them sing this.  I don't know that I've every made it all the way through singing without choking up!)

I Know That My Savior Loves Me

A long time ago in a beautiful place,
Children were gathered ’round Jesus.
He blessed and taught as they felt of His love.
Each saw the tears on His face.
The love that He felt for His little ones
I know He feels for me.
I did not touch Him or sit on His knee,
Yet, Jesus is real to me.

 

Chorus
I know He lives!
I will follow faithfully.
My heart I give to Him.
I know that my Savior loves me.

 

Now I am here in a beautiful place,
Learning the teachings of Jesus.
Parents and teachers will help guide the way,
Lighting my path ev’ry day.
Wrapped in the arms of my Savior’s love,
I feel His gentle touch.
Living each day, I will follow His way,
Home to my Father above.
Chorus

 

P.S.  Have questions about the beliefs and teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints?  Go here to find answers. (Or you can always ask me!)

Self-portrait: Week 32 - Tiiiight

Here we are at week 32.  I'm at the point now where, when people ask me how much longer I have until the baby comes and I tell them 2 months, they look at me in amazement/wonder/disbelief and then make some comment along the lines of "But you're so BIG!"  Sure, some are a little more tactful than that (and some aren't), but that's what they're really saying.

Punks.

Okay, not really.  Actually, I don't even care.  My belly is so tight, especially by the end of the day, that I can barely move.  I don't remember how big I am compared to my other pregnancies at this time, but I do know that my belly is definitely tighter.  Bending is pretty much not an option anymore.  Which means the floors in my home are continuously covered in toy cars, fruit snack wrappers, and other little boy detritus.

Not that it bothers me too much.  I can't see below my belly anyway.

Worst Flu Season Ever

Is it me, or is this just the worst flu season ever?  Seriously, we usually get hit once, maybe twice a winter, but this year we just can't seem to go over a week without someone germing it up.  Is it worse than normal?  Or is it because I have a first grader, preschooler, and spend every week in that cute germ soup known as Primary?

Whatever the reason, I am more than ready for all of this to be over.

As previously mentioned, I came down with a bad stomach thing Sunday night.  Lance had to stay home on Monday because I was so wiped out.  I was run down on Tuesday but was still able to do some desperately needed grocery shopping and get some things done around the house.  (Fun fact: I spent over $100 on diapers and wipes.  It will be a happy day when I have no more kids in diapers!) 

But then by Tuesday night I was feeling gross again.  By Wednesday morning I was sick again, this time with some sort of intestinal thing.  I lasted until around noon, when I emailed Lance, begging for him to come home by 3pm.  Cole would be up from his nap by then and I knew I wouldn't be able to handle him.  Of course Cole woke up at 2pm (punk), but I survived.

Lance took care of the kids and even helped Spencer with his big First Grade Animal Report, which was about as fun as it sounds.  (Picture Spencer freaking out over having to erase one little letter.  Now picture him freaking out about having to erase an entire sentence.  Yeah, fun.)

I won't go into gory details.  There's no need.  But let me just say that when your insides are already messed up because of some virus, the last thing they need is a 4 pound fetus doing a waltz on them for hours on end.  Let's just say that it was all Rather Unpleasant To Say The Least.

Today I'm feeling better.  Not good, but better.  I basically did nothing.  I laid around and made sure Cole and Josh didn't do anything too crazy.  Josh was in heaven because we spent most of the day snacking on cold cereal and drinking water from sports bottles.  (Josh's version of heaven is pretty simple.)

Hopefully normal and regular blogging will continue soon.  Until then, wash your hands often, use your elbow when you cough or sneeze, and for the love of all that is good and holy, stay away from our house if you're feeling the slightest bit sick.  (We love you.  But not that much.)

I'm Still Here

Mostly.  But I've been feeling under the weather for a few days.  And then last night a really nasty stomach bug got me. 

One of the joys of being pregnant is that a 24 hour bug doesn't just last 24 hours.  You're truly sick for a day, but it takes about a week to really get back to normal. 

*sigh*

Hopefully tomorrow won't kill me and I'll be back to regular updates.

Same As It Ever Was

Around this time last year we were discovering that Cole is prone to ear infections.  Very prone.

Very, very prone.

Then in June he got tubes put in his ears.  Hooray!  No more ear infections!

Until a couple of weeks ago.  And tonight.

Gosh dang it.  I have a feeling Cole's pediatrician and I will be having a very long discussion about this boy and his ears tomorrow.

In the meantime, here's that Valentine's Day video I promised you yesterday.  Enjoy.

Valentine's Day 2011

Valentine's Day is way more fun with kids.  In fact, I think it should be more of a kid- and family-centered holiday.  I'm not really into all that mushy romance stuff, mainly because I don't think we should have a specific day set aside just for that.  Why do we have to have a day that tells us to be romantic?  Quit telling me what to do!  I'll be romantic when I dang well please, not when Hallmark wants me to! You're not the boss of me!

*ahem*

Anywho, every year we have a really romantic dinner with the kids - pizza and soda, followed by Valentine's candy.  I know, tres chic.

You don't have to have fancy food to have a fancy dinner.  Just seeing the little bit of extra effort in the decorations and such makes my kiddos very happy.

Notice the hearts from the chandelier?  We made those for FHE one night.

I got the idea from here.  I have to say, theirs looked a lot more like hearts than ours did, but whatever.

This year I decided to make monogrammed mugs for everyone.  I got the original inspiration for the project at Design Mom.  When I found a set of 12 porcelain mugs on clearance at the WalMarts for $2.50, I knew I had to make them! 

I used the same Pabeo Porcelain pens for the mugs.  And just like Design Mom, I had some issues with mine.  In fact, I had major issues with the first set sent to me (I ordered them online), and had the site send me a second set.  (Which they happily did for free.  Hooray for customer service!) 

So I decided to take the pens apart, get the paint out, and use brushes.  I think they turned out pretty well, considering this was my first try.  (And with 6 more mugs and lots of pain left over, I will definitely have to try some other designs.)

Who's the question mark?  Well, I decided if I was making one for everyone in the family I had better make one for Madsen Mystery Baby #4, due to make her grand appearance on April 18th. 

No, I will still not tell you her name.  And no, it does not start with a C.  I was just too lazy to take a picture of a blank mug.  And no, I will not tell you the letter on her mug.  You're not the boss of me!

Back to Valentine's Day.  Here's what everyone's place settings looked like.

We give the kiddos books for Valentine's Day.  This year I think I scored big.  Spencer got his first set of chapter books, which he was really excited about.  (It's the first 4 books of the Magic Treehouse series.  No picture because he kept wandering off with them.)

Josh got an awesome dinosaur book.  The child was in heaven.

In fact, I had set the table a little early because I had the spare time.  He knew he couldn't open the book, and he knew he couldn't mess with anything on the table.  I discovered him sitting at the table, staring longingly at that book, patiently waiting for dinner.  It was 3:50pm.  The child is four years old and has never sat still longer than 35.2 seconds.  I gave in and let him open the book early.

There was much rejoicing.

At that point I knew I had to let the other boys open their books.  That's when Spencer disappeared with his.  Cole got a Sandra Boynton book about doggies.

He was pretty stoked.

*oof!*oof!*oof!*

The books kept them occupied and gave me a chance to make dinner.  Mmmm... Papa Murphy's... how I love you.  And your heart-shaped pizza.

But I love your Chicago Stuffed pizza even more...

This is ridiculous.   My hormones are totally outta whack.  I'm putting pictures of pizza on my blog for Valentine's Day.  But they're so lovely, right...?

After dinner the boys decided to eat their candy.  And by eat I mean scarf.  Which is why I don't spend a lot on candy for them. 

Cole got his very own first box of chocolates.  Hilarity ensues.

Ummm... not that you would know, because YouTube is apparently broken right now.  Well, some day I'll get the video up there.  In the mean time, just imagine how funny a toddler with a box of chocolates could be.

Poor kid.  His mother wasn't thinking clearly and allowed him to eat the chocolate caramel.  Of course he stuffed it all into his mouth at once.  He was quite happy about this.

Until the caramel got stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Momma paid penance and dug it out for him.  Gross.

Kidisms

My kids have said some pretty interesting things lately.  For example:

Spencer: Mommy, I'm hungry.  Can I have a snack?
Me: Sorry, kiddo.  It's almost dinner time.  You can wait until dinner is ready.
Spencer (in righteous indignation): But I'm so hungry now!
Me: Nope.  No snack.
Spencer whines and complains about this for several minutes.  He finally realizes that I'm not going to change my mind.
Spencer: Fine then!  Then I'm not going to eat dinner!
My Thoughts: I don't negotiate with terrorists.  Especially when they're making stupid demands.
What I Actually Said: Hmmm... then I guess you will be extra hungry tonight.
Spencer: That's not fair!!  *stomps off*

*****

Spencer (looking at his finger that he cut yesterday): I don't think I need a band aid.  I don't hear it bleeding anymore.
Me: Hear it bleeding?
Spencer: Yeah.  I can't hear it bleed.  So it's better.
Me: Hear?
Spencer (clearly exasperated with his dullard Mother): Yes.  Hear.
Me: Okay, okay...

*****

Josh: Mommy, someday can we go on a rocket?
Me: Umm... nope. There aren't any rockets for us to go on. Why do you want to go on a rocket?
Joshie: To get the balloon I lost. It's living on the moon.
Me: What balloon?
Joshie: The yellow one from the bug races. Hey maybe a space man will go up there and bring it back to me!
(It takes me a second to realize that he's talking about the balloon he got at Purdue's Springfest, nearly a year ago.)
Me: Umm...
Joshie: I know! I'll be a space man!
Me: Good idea.

*****

I'm walking around the house, putting groceries away.  I'm over by the boys' bedrooms.  Josh is eating lunch in the kitchen.
Josh (calling out to me): What are you carrying?
Me: These?  New underpants for Spencer.
Josh: No.  What is it?  Let me see!
Me (realizing where his thought process is going): These are NOT candy, Josh.  It's new underpants.  In a bag.
Josh (running over to me): What?!  It's candy!
Me: No!  It's underpants!
Josh (clearly disappointed): Oh.  It's underpants.  I don't want underpants, I want candy!
Me: Sorry.
Josh: Can I have some candy?
Me: Nope.  And these are Spencer's underpants.
Josh: Awwww maaaaaannnn...

Be My Valentine

Josh's Haircut

Last night at bedtime we discovered that some time during the day Josh had given himself a hair cut.

It's pretty darn close to his head.  I'm impressed.  He must have worked really hard with those scissors.  His hair is generally fairly unruly, which is why I think it took us so long to notice it.  Also, he must have known he did something wrong because I have yet to find any hair around the house.

I offered to fix it for him, in the form of a very short buzz cut.  Josh refused.  He wanted me to make the hair grow back.

I tried all of my magic spells, but nothing worked.  His hair just wouldn't grow any longer.  Bummer.

So he went to church like this today.  Most people didn't notice until it was pointed out.  I might just let him keep it like this for a while because 1) he really doesn't want a haircut and that's a fight I just don't feel like dealing with right now, and 2) we'd really have to cut his hair short to match where he cut.  It's too cold for him to suddenly not have any hair on his head!

I'm actually kinda surprised this is the first time this has happened in our family.  I was even thinking about kids cutting their own hair the other day as I was using some scissors.  Auspicious, no?

By the way, I told him I wanted to take pictures of him brushing his teeth.  If I had said I wanted pictures of his hair there's no way I would have gotten any!

How Valentine's Day Cookies Turn Me Into A Bad Mom

Yesterday I made our annual batch of Valentine's Day cookies.  As per usual, I had more help than I needed, which is always a bit frustrating.  I tried to be a patient mom, but the bad mom in me scolded probably a bit more than I should have.  (I told Josh not to turn the mixer on yet!) Yep, lots of help - until the first cookies were completed and devoured.  Then I had zero help.  Then I was a bad mom again because even though I didn't want help making cookies, I certainly didn't want to have to frost them all myself.  Sheesh.

As per usual I also made waaaay more cookies than needed.

So of course I had to help get rid of some of them.

Mmmmm... Valentiney...  Being a bad mom means eating way more cookies than I would allow my children to eat.  Which of course I did.

While I was frosting all the cookies Cole took a shining to a new dish towel of mine. 

I have no idea why he loves this dish towel so much.  Probably because it's so bright and pretty.

And soft.

He kept trying to put it on like a bib.  I'm too cheap now to buy bibs at the store.  Besides, my kids have always just pulled those off.  But they can't pull off a dishtowel tied around their neck!  (Does using dishtowels as bibs make me a bad mom?)

 

Then he decided it was time for his own cookie. Being the bad mother that I am, I of course let my toddler have a cookie.  30 minutes before dinner. Choices, choices... which one to choose?!

Chocolate, obviously.

By the time I should have been making dinner I was full of cookies.  I didn't want to eat and I didn't want to cook anything.  Besides, it's been nothing but a huge fight lately to get Spencer and Josh to eat anything I make for dinner.  Spencer was at his school for a movie night and Lance knows how to make his own dinner.  So I decided to be a bad mom again and just let Josh eat cookies for dinner, knowing that making anything else would just be a waste of food and energy.

The boy was in heaven.  So maybe I'm not such a bad mom in all aspects.

I'm not a completely bad mom.  I gave Cole a real dinner.

But in the end he still ate a few more cookies as well.

Bad mom.  Deliciously bad.

When I Am An Old Woman I Shall Eat At McDonald's

When Josh was an infant I had him participate in a few studies at Purdue's Baby Lab.  (It was a nice diversion and we always got a free book, so why not?)  A week or so ago the lab called again saying they were doing a follow-up study on these same children, and would we be interested in participating?  Once again, I figured why not?  It would help out the university and I was interested to see how Josh would react. 

So after preschool today we headed down to campus.  Josh was as champ!  He was so proud to get to do this and was so cheerful and friendly about the whole thing.  He didn't even mind when Cole and I had to leave the room so he and the tester could play some 'games'.  (If you had asked me a year ago how Josh would have reacted in this situation I would have laughed an evil laugh and then mysteriously said "Badly".)

Anywho, I didn't know it but instead of a book we got nine whole dollars for this study.  When the grad student told me and handed me the money I laughed a little and kidded Josh that lunch was on him today.  He took this to heart and promptly tried to put the money in his pocket.  I decided to let him, since he was doing all the work. 

After the study, I asked Josh where he wanted to go for lunch.  McDonald's, of course, was the reply.  So we trekked down to McDonalds.  Josh was thrilled to discover that Monster Trucks were the toy of the month for Happy Meals.  Then he demanded that both he and Cole get Happy Meals so they could both have trucks.  I protested a little, since Cole's not really big enough yet for his own meal, but Josh insisted because he "Had the money".

Well, you can't argue with that.  Plus, it was pretty darn cute that he wanted to buy lunch for his baby brother.  So he did.

Both boys were in heaven.  They scarfed french fries and ketchup, slurped their drinks, and played with their trucks.  Joshie must have been extra hungry, too, because he ate his cheeseburger and stole a chicken nugget from Cole. 

While eating I noticed that we lowered the median age at that particular McDonald's considerably.  There were probably 5-6 other couples there, all well over 60 years of age.  And of course they were all charmed by my cute little boys.  (Especially Cole, who has discovered the power of waving hello to everyone.)

One lady in particular stood out to me.  She was at least 80 years old, a little stooped and heavy-set, but still looking pretty good.  Silver hair done in a perfect old-lady coif.  Full-on make-up, bright red lipstick.  Faux cheetah coat, black pumps, and (this was my favorite part) Russian fur hat.

She was awesome.  She was stylin'.  She is who I want to be in 50 years.  Totally at home in her own body, comfortable in her clothes, lookin' good, and she knew it.

She reminded me of one of my favorite poems, introduced to me in the 9th grade by one of my favorite English teachers ever, Mrs. Rhondeu. 

Warning

by Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

I already wear purple.  (In fact, I'm wearing some today!)  But perhaps tomorrow I should start looking for my own cheetah coat and fur hat.  I wouldn't want to shock anyone 50 years from now...

Self-portrait: Week 30 - Grouch

I've reached that point in my pregnancy where I'm just a bi-polar grouch. Not all the time, but often enough. I can't help it. I think I've mentioned this before on my blog, but I'm too grouchy to go link to it.  Sometimes I can be so happy and chipper or just normal.  And other times I just feel like being mean to everyone in my path.  Growl!

I don't know what it is.  The happiness is fairly normal.  I mean, I think I'm normally a pretty happy and friendly person.  I hope I am.  I aspire to be.

But for the grouchiness, I don't know.  I think maybe my brain just gets so focused on growing this tiny human and trying to keep my other tiny humans alive that I just can't focus on being social and outgoing or even pleasant some times.  I don't want to chat with cashiers I don't know.  (And that can be a big deal here in the Midwest.)  I don't want to make new friends.  I don't want to have people over for dinner or host playdates or plan big social events.  (Not that I'm not willing to participate!  But to having to do any of the associated work?  Not so much.)


I try not to be too grouchy with my family, but sometimes I literally cannot help it.  It's like I can see myself and hear myself being a grouch, but I physically cannot stop myself.  Poor Josh has wanted to play a board game with me all day and I just. Don't. Want. To.  I'm sorry Joshie, ordinarily playing Spongebob Operation would be fine.  But today?  I'd rather clean the bathrooms.  And I hate cleaning the bathrooms.


Then there's Cole, who loves nothing more than to snuggle on my lap and give me big, wet, slobbery kisses.  Sometimes I just love this and eat it up.  But other times I don't want him sitting on my already tender belly and be given a spit-bath.


Spencer wants to be the center of the universe and whine about everything in existence.  Okay, that's never okay and I never like that.  But my current state of mind certainly isn't helping matters.  Because I can be in a totally happy mood and then he'll be, you know, Seven Years Old, and suddenly I'm Mommy the Grouch.


Lance is smart.  This is his fourth time through this crazy pre-natal bi-polar-grouch-fest and he's learned to just keep quiet and ride the storm.  I love him for that.  It also bugs me.  But mostly I love him. 


Grrrrr...

Well Dang It.

On Saturday we finally got around to repainting the upstairs bathroom.  Well, Lance did the painting.  But I helped take down the rubber duckie wallpaper border!  Anywho, here's a reminder of what it looked like before:

Yikes, it was yellow.  I mean yellow.  The pictures doesn't really do it justice.  Because it looked like Big Bird exploded in there, that's how yellow it was.

This time I decided to go with a light aqua blue color, to match this really cute shower curtain I had.  Here's the after:

Okay, so it doesn't look that aqua here.  That's probably a good thing.  Trust me, it is aqua.  In fact, it's very aqua.  It turned out to be a lot darker than I expected.

No, you can't really tell how aqua it is.  It's like "Hey, the 50's called and they want their aqua bathroom back."  All we need are some matching tiles, sink, and tub and we'd be set.

In retrospect, I should have gone 2 or 3 shades lighter since the bathroom is so small.  Dang it. 

But whatever.  It's liveable.  And certainly better than that ghastly yellow. Makes me wonder if the same thing happened to the previous homeowners.  Was their yellow a bit more yellow than expected?  But was it not worth the trouble to change it?  I like to think so.

As a bonus, here's a rare very pregnant picture of me.  When I'm pregnant I carry all of my extra weight in my face, arms, and belly.  Can't you tell?  And that pesky belly button.  Oweee.

The Boy Loves His Shoes

Cole loves his shoes.  As in LOVES his shoes.  As in I couldn't get him to even look at the camera because that would mean taking his eyes off of his beloved shoes.

Why does he not have any clothes on, you ask?

Well, he was on his third change of clothes for the day.  It was a messy day.  And I didn't feel like wrestling him, yet again, into clothes.  So just a diaper it was.  (Judge me all you want, he didn't seem to care.)  But as I was leaving his room he demanded that I put his shoes on.  I indulged him.

Thus the fabulous photo shoot.  Of his fabulous physique.  I love that belly.

I also love this photo.

But mostly I love this little boy.