Today was a good day

Today was a good day. Oh, sure nothing went as planned and some things went wildly wrong, but it was still a joyful day. I woke up with a glad heart and kept it all day, despite:

~calling for a doctor's appointment at 6:00 am.
~walking into the doctor's office at 10:00 am (with six kids) to find out why no one had called back about my "urgent" condition.
~discovering that the appointment line had not yet passed on any urgent care notes.
~walking back to the car to discover that it wouldn't start.
~discovering that the essential battery ($4.95 for two) in the key fob was dead, thereby setting off the silent alarm in the van, and keeping me from starting the car.
~after a friend in the area took off from work and helped us out (including a jaunt to the BX which was out of batteries and another jaunt to Walmart, which was not close) discovering that the silent alarm had drained the car battery--so now we also needed a jump start.
~having six kids crowd the doctor during my appointment (true fact: even very professional people have a hard time thinking on their feet when confronted by so many little people)
~the computer system was down, so I had to return to the doctor's office and get a paper prescription (they were very fast and kind.)
~grocery shopping with six kids who were, by this time, starving and stir crazy
~and last, but not least, standing on the doctor's scale and staring at the ugly (but truthful) numbers.

also today:
~I held Briellen and Brigham's little hands as we walked down a snowy hill in the stillness of an early morning.
~I carried Vilate in a pack and could feel her warming my back.
~Mirielle's fears of turning into a personage of "bones, skin, and spirit" (her words) never materialized (she's afraid of starving to death. But not afraid enough to actually eat the food I cook. True quote from Tuesday night: "Mom, that's the first thing you ever cooked that I liked!")
~Sarai got her very first pocket knife. (But she hasn't yet earned her tote and chip card, so she doesn't yet have actual possession of the knife.)
~Analise's cat and Sarai's fox got married, in a very elaborate ceremony (complete with a rabbit throwing real rose petals, Mendelssohn's Wedding March, and a ring bearer holding two tiny hair elastics) . They also had a child. (Q: Analise, how long have they been married? (since time is flexible in these sorts of situations, y'know) A: About an hour. Q: Then how do they have a child? A: Mirielle gave it to them as a wedding present.) Excellent.

It has been a great day.

Blizzarding and Milestones

So, we've had a lot of blizzardish type weather, and with it has come a realization of several advantages to our living situation (only four weeks left, by the way! Hurray!)

1. We have a backup generator, which kicks in if the power goes out--so while 200,000 people lost heat and power, we continued to be cozy and warm and play Rat-a-Tat Cat. We, alas, did not have enough power to watch the Super Bowl. Wait, that's a lie. We lacked the desire to watch or care about the Super Bowl.

2. We have great neighbors, who shoveled out our van in the midst of a blizzard for an ER trip. (Because there's no better time than the middle of the worst snowstorm in 100 years to run a 105 degree temperature).

3. There's not enough room in our fridge for more than one gallon of milk, but we can leave a gallon or two right outside the front door, and the snow insulates it perfectly. It stays the perfect temperature without freezing. (I did have to dig it out under ten inches of snow, though.)

One milestone that we reached this week was that The Boy became our second child to (sorry for the indelicacy) pee standing up (but only the first one to be encouraged to do so.) Exciting times!

Celebrity endorsements

So, I am offering a new feature on my blog, where I will share with you my endorsement of whatever random oddities that I stumbled upon. My promise to you--I will only endorse products that are pure awesomeness. I don't promise that you, too will love the products--after all, they may be a bit odd. But you may . . .



Mmmm. Delicious--not at all bitter, very smooth with a perfect bite, even if it is a PROCESSED cheese (how did I miss that when I bought it?!--at least it's not a processed cheese-food. But seriously, yum.) The kids liked it until they started to feel the heat from the horseradish kick in.

You can buy this at Petco, but it's not just for cats . . .
This size bottle works better than the large gallon size.

A Confession

I substituted in primary today. The teacher called me, I think, because I own one of the squirrels in the class. I had taught the class before, months ago, and ended up with a headache and a sincere desire to check caller id before I answer the phone on a weekend. Today, though, the class was great. The kids were still full of energy, and one particular fairy princess kept dancing around and waving glitter everywhere (OK, that would be mine) but we had a productive and interesting discussion on the plan of salvation. It was fun.

A while ago, I took the kids to the dentist and, upon learning that I had six (!) kids, she picked up her jaw from the floor and commented that I must really like children. I was a little discombobulated. I got the impression that she viewed me as some strange phenomenon who loves to pinch cheeks, fix snacks, and wipe noses. And the the thing about kids is that they're not always likable--either singly or in aggregate. They can be whiny, bratty, rude, rotten, stubborn, spoiled, sloppy, slovenly, ditsy, flaky, too clever, too slow--and on, and on, and on. But if you give them a chance, kids are also pretty easy to love. When you look into a child's eyes, you see the windows of a soul that has not yet learned to close its shutters against such intrusion. Those windows reflect the pure light of Christ, all the more beautiful because it is unearned, unasked for, and that those small souls are unaware of the light within.

So, I don't think I particularly like children, more than any other group. But they are so easy to love.

Go big or go home.

I did this. I made The Boy look like he has mange. It's just been that kind of day.

I had such high hopes for today. I had beautiful plans charted for school, for losing weight, for starting over with the new year. Today was the day I would become a Better Person. And I started off all right--I got out of bed early and made a delicious healthy breakfast for my husband (because that's what Better Persons do). We encouraged all of the children out of bed with soft music and cheery Monday voices and waited patiently as one of the girls stood in the middle of the RV staring at the refrigerator without any shoes on. My husband checked our frozen water pipes and the children slowly poured themselves into the van and even more slowly settled into their car seats and seat belts, and we were suddenly ten minutes late for his commute. And that's when everything started to go terribly wrong.

We ended up at a foreign metro station an hour later. Alan carefully explained how to get home (it was really simple--two rights and a left. Or was that two lefts and a right?) and I carefully listened, filing away the directions in the part of my mind that failed orienteering. I carefully, carefully! followed the directions--and found myself in an unfamiliar part of DC. Three hours later, after a quick jaunt into Virginia and across the Potomac (which is choked with ice, by the way) and back, we were home. Only I had lost my lovely attitude and had stopped at a McDonald's (granted, it was around 10:30--I figured the kids had been in the car for three and a half hours and deserved some sustenance before they started dying of famine all around me. On second thought, that might have alleviated some of the fighting in the back seat. McDonald's is of course, the antithesis to the Whole Food Healthy Eating Lifestyle that we had commenced . . . today). Of course, one kid threw up all over the middle seat. She very thoughtfully moved the books at her feet before throwing up--small mercies.

Back home again, we started Science Month, a month-long foray into the joys of science. Carefully, but flexibly planned, I had found websites, planned experiments, and maybe even some mentors for the kids. I was excited--yesterday. By 11:00 this morning, I was just frustrated. Mandatory math and mandatory clean-up caused contention. Nasty looks and dark thoughts abounded through our small space, slightly alleviated by some computer time for science.

Later, I gave my husband a haircut, trying to be careful (really). His hair now recedes about two inches more on the left side than on the right. Brigham then hopped in the chair and I gave him a haircut--I was all but done (with a really excellent haircut) when the no. 3 attachment popped off the clippers and I shaved a nice chunk of hair right at the top of his head. No hiding it, or getting around it--I had to shave his whole head.

You know the saying "Go big or go home?" Today I just wanted to go home--instead I made spectacular mistake after spectacular mistake. Looking at that poor mangy haircut--I was finally ready to laugh. What a great day to pop in the old memory file!

So, how's that camper-thing working out, anyway?

For any of you who have stuck it out with me, reading even when I have nothing to say and say it badly, this is your reward: finally, an update on life in Zion's Camper (a stray sunbeam doubled as a flash of inspiration in Gospel Doctrine one fateful Sunday, and we realized that this camper was our march from Kirtland to Jackson County. Only we don't actually want to go to Jackson County. And we don't want dysentery. But we DO want Zion in our home.)

Here are some answers to FAQs, either asked or implied:

Q: Are you guys poverty-stricken?
A: We're doing fine, thank-you.
Q: No, really: are you dirt-poor?
A: No, we're really fine. But thank you for the ham. (Just joking--no one has yet left a stray basket of food items on our doorstep.) We really are doing just fine--we'd be a little better if the guy renting our house paid his rent anywhere near on time. (So if you know of a more reliable tenant, we are open to suggestions. . .)

Q: What's the hardest thing about living in a camper?
A: Boundaries. We have little to no privacy, and the kids take full advantage. I'm at this minute staving off attacks from three small saboteurs who should have been in bed an hour and a half ago. Also, someone keeps using my toothbrush, which wasn't a problem when I had my own bathroom. Although I ought to be thoroughly grossed out, it turns out that I'm just glad that they're brushing their teeth.

Q: How do you keep your sanity?
A: How do you?

Q: Is there anything good at all about living like sardines in a tin can?
A: Surprisingly, yes. There are a lot of blessings that come with being so close--we're closer as a family and more aware of each other's needs, strengths, and weaknesses. We spend a lot of family time together. I get to spend a little time each day with each child doing something that is specific to their needs and wants. (Vilate's wants are pretty simple, by the way, but deeply felt--right now she deeply feels that she should be fed.) I also really enjoy living without all our stuff--we have just about what we really need (and a little bit more, to tell the truth.)

Any more questions?

The sweetness of family time in a cramped space.

So, my husband is making chocolate chip cookies for FHE. Six very eager pairs of hands are helping with every step, when I overhear, "No touching! And what I mean by that is no touching!" So, of course I reply with some smarty comment about what he means by that, only to hear this gem, "Get your tongue off the mixer!"

Also, we just happen to be making cookies to disco music ('cause sometimes you just gotta have a little Abba). So he asked the many helpers to move their hinders (the "out of the way" was implied) and the three-year old started to boogie, asking her dad "like this? Move my hinder like this?"

It's just that kind of night. But, hey! Cookies!