Everyday Pics

Trying to get pics of his tooth...of which neither attempt worked.

Not really looking like such a little boy anymore

6 year olds playing with the camera

Somehow we have 6 beds with enough room to sleep 8 all within one room and they end up on one twin size bed.

Big Twins....with a little bit of height difference going on now

Looking so much bigger and older these days

Seemingly always messy hair and half naked. Her self inflicted bangs are getting longer.

Two happy boys

Cleaning the playroom

My sweet redhead

Still cleaning the playroom

The Post Partum Journey Down: week 16 after twins #2

Edited to crop the current pics, as my children were kind enough to enlighten me that you can't really see anything from 50 feet away. The cropped pics are motivation, in its finest form, to get up and move. I have a goal and I still have every intention of running a 5k.

So, I decided that just as I picture journaled the twin journey up so I will picture it down....probably every 3 weeks or so. It's a little late to begin this since they're 4 months old this week but seeing as how I still have quite a bit to lose and shape back up I suppose it's better than nothing. Both P90X and Weight Watchers have recommended I keep a picture log of the journey down....so, here we go!

And since I have struggled with weight in the past I just don't want to be there again....ever. Controversial story of that here. Read at your own risk. Plus the fact I just really love running and working out since it helps maintain perspective on all of life and aids in keeping my sanity on days I fear it's quite in jeopardy.

Today - the beginning: 14 wks post partum

I have run and toyed with P90X for the last 2 weeks but am starting in full force tomorrow. I have a goal and I fully intend to reach it. And yes...that is a chicken egg on the wall behind me to the left. They're supposed to toss the cracked ones out in the pasture. Some choice little people never make it out to the pasture to toss....as evident here.

For comparison....The beginning of the pregnancy - 9 wks and running 2 miles 3 times a week.

So...from this

To this...

40 weeks with twins

And back again...

Today, just for comparison, in the same jeans I started the pregnancy pics in. I've got some work to do. And no...I'm not pregnant again. That's just the lumpy stomach. Fun, huh? I seriously think it's the same size I was at 9 wks. Oh well. Nothing that some 3,000 sit ups a day won't cure.....maybe.

From Their Mouths

They say stuff all the time that keeps me laughing. These were all said in the span of just yesterday.

Garrett: "Mom, this Baby A is not God"

Me: "Ummm....no,baby. Graham is not God."

Garrett: "And this Baby B is not God."

Me: "Nope. He's not God either."

Garrett: "But that's ok cause they both look like God."

Not sure where that one came from but it was worthy of note.

______

And then comes last night. Just when you think you love them.
In a quick trip to grab a few things at Wal Mart I took in Aubrey, Garrison and Grant.

Me: "Do y'all see any Weight Watchers snacks?" ....and yes, they know what these are.

After a minute, the 3 of them in unison: "No ma'am."

Me: "Alright, well if y'all are going to come in with me you've got to help look. We can't stay in here forever....so look quick."

Dragging them through the packed, small town Wal Mart there was little room to even get down an isle...and they tend to talk loud enough for anyone within a 3 mile radius to hear. So, all of Wal Mart was in on this conversation.

Grant: "Why do you need Weight Watcher snacks? Why can't you just eat the normal ones?"

Garrison...before I could answer: "Cause she has alot of flubber."

Shocked, I turned and asked "Who does??"

Garrison: "You do!"

Aubrey: "Garrison, that's rude! You don't ever tell anyone they have alot of flubber, right mom?"

Garrison: "Well...I'm just being true. She has it on her stomach cause she's had fifty hundred babies."

Me: "Well...thank you, son. I'm feeling quite endeared to you right now."

Aubrey, taking up quite the offense: "Mom, I won't tell you that you have lots of squishy skin flubber right there cause it's just not nice at all...even though you do."


Just when I thought they were really starting to get the whole politically correct thing. Nothing like children...quite a few of them....to keep reality close at hand. Oh well...I am quite certain adoring husband is quite in love with it so we're good.

_________

And since Brad has lovingly nicknamed our little duo Baby A and Baby B the children now call them this quite lovingly as well. Garrett has always been known as "Shorty" to Brad. He and Ivye are the only ones that refer to him as this but he answers to it like his name.....except Ivye's version is "Shurty." Brad calls Gavin "Little Bit" and Ivye is known as "Pixie" to her daddy. So, the little babies are known as A and B....to the point that the children don't know their names but tell people who's A and who's B. Lovely.

Garrett: "Mom, this is baby A."

"Yep...that's Graham."

"And this is the other one."

"Yep...that's Gatlin."

"No...I don't know his real name. I forgot his number."

"His real name is Gatlin."

"But is he Baby X?"

"No, buddy, he is not Baby X."

"Well then, what's his real name?"

"His real name is Gatlin but daddy calls him Baby B."

"Oh yeah...Baby B. That's his real name."

And he skips off.

__________

Upon Evye telling me for the 149th time her nose itched...and honestly I was just really sick of hearing her talk about it...

"Ev...just pick it. It's probably a wiggly booger."

With a little laugh..."Mom, I don't have any boogers."

"Well...just pick it anyway."

"Mom, what's the point of going fishing in an empty pond???"

I couldn't very well argue with that one.

__________

Said this morning about the 600 sq ft detached playroom....

Me, with much enthusiasm: "Today we get to clean the playroom!!!"

....sighs from everyone around....

Evye: "Mom, why do you get soooo excited about cleaning stuff????"

Me: "Cause we can start P90Xing out there instead of the den. They'll be tons more room."

Evye: "Yes ma'am. But why do you ALWAYS get so excited about cleaning everything?"

"Well....cause it puts everything in its place and there's no clutter laying around. It just feels good. And you can't think clear in a crapped out space."

Evye: "You have 10 kids. You can't think clear anywhere."

Sooo....that one holds a little truth too.

To Live the Dream and Be Blessed

He squeaks and grunts and I am roused from light sleep. I know....my body tells me clearly....that daybreak is imminent. So for the 4th time in a mere 8 hours I rise and try not to be discouraged. My day has begun after only 3 hours of sleep. And I smile at him, his feathery light little self still needing round the clock sustenance for small body. His face lights up at the sight of me in the street lamp shadows. I smile back, whispering sweet affection for this baby of mine. Shift husband's alarm jolts mother and baby out of early morning reverie and I know it's 5:30am...confirmation of the upcoming dawn. I sigh, knowing there is no hope for more sleep, and baby busies himself with nursing. Momentarily he breaks from his sucking regime to flash a huge toothless smile upwards before continuing on. So, I lay self aside....desires of the flesh....and know that I can do this. I can make it through my day because I am blessed and I have been given the grace to do this and rise to the task at hand. How I yearned to be at this place in life only 18 short months ago. So many tears shed fearing I would never know this again. Yet here we are are at 5:30 am on a random Wednesday morning in life with baby at breast as the soft breathing of another growing life only feet away fills my ears. It's a sweet life and God is good throughout it all...through the fire, through the heartache, through the tears, through the loss and the guilt, and once we emerge on the other side.

Husband rolls over in the early morning. Big warm hand traces bare leg and he smiles at me in the quiet before turning attention to baby and rubbing little redhead. Baby once again pauses in his nursing vigil to smile yet again and coo endearment to his daddy. Clear blue husband eyes return to look into mine as he fingers and toys with long strands of thick dark hair, his absolute love and devotion to me apparent in the early morning darkness. How in love with him I am....lover of everything about me and amazing daddy to our children....provider, protector, funny one that can make me laugh when no one else can. Oldest son appears to ready for his day at work, breaking the quiet moment, and with the flipping of light switch my day begins.

I seek to be realistic in this journey of parenting and large family living. And I will not even begin to come close to saying it is easy or that it lacks challenges. That said, I think there is some measure of grace extended by the Lord to carry out this passion and love of life. It is massive amounts of hard work, from the sheer reality of keeping a small house presentable and sanitary with many people living within to the extensive amount of emotional investment poured into the lives of our children. Balancing the schooling of older ones and the needs of younger ones and all of the other things that I have found that go along with this stage in life. It's all in there and all part of it. But with the work, the hardships, the struggles, the continual search for balance comes the rewards of a thousand years in the span of one short lifetime. More joy, more contentment and more thanksgiving than I could ever have known attainable in life. It is an extraordinary life.

Now that the older children are beginning to grow into independence and lives beyond the four walls of home it is an amazing thing to finally be able to see tangibly what we have worked so very hard at these many years. Little kisses from heaven encouraging the heart. In days past I used to despise the attention our merry little crew would draw. Quiet, introverted self feeling out of place and uncomfortable at the sudden shift into spotlight. I think after the arrival of twins #1 and after baby #6 the comments and public opinion reached their worst. After #7 and #8 it was more shock at the sheer size of the family and the very young ages of children, but now with the arrival of twins #2 the comments and questions and entirely curious public have transitioned into encouragement to the mothering heart. And I just don't mind anymore. Gentle ways the Lord teaches and brings me out of my own self in order to learn to communicate beyond my comfort zone and for our family to be a testimony and encouragement to others. Derogatory statements have turned to those of praise and admiration over the years as our family has grown. No longer really scorned we have transitioned into a novelty to the public at large. And the doors that have been opened to meet new people as a result are still so amazing to me. This road we walk is a blessed one.

Yesterday while on the road to get Aubrey we were stopped by a sweet grandmother who told her daughter's story. 2 year old fraternal twin girls, 3 weeks of bedrest beginning at 32 wks and delivered by c/s at 35 wks with a few weeks of NICU. And I was once again reminded how blessed we have been. 2 sets of full term twins, 40+ wk babies, a natural hospital birth and a homebirth, and perfectly healthy babies. God is good and answered the prayers lifted up throughout each pregnancy...my every heart's desire. She sang the praises of our children and their behaviour and my heart was once again encouraged by the little kisses of encouragement the Lord sends to keep morale up and the, at times, weary body going. We are counted over and again and the novelty of our cheery, active little brood only seems to grow. And my discomfort with it all finally seems to fade over time.

While on my own with all 10 last week we were approached by a kind woman as we grocery shopped. Grayson backpacked Gatlin while I wore Graham on my chest. She marveled at the children and little twins and then, a bit suddenly, her eyes welled with tears as she told her story. Daughter suffered 6 miscarriages, both early and late, and now overwhelmingly blessed with "natural", or politically correctly known as spontaneous, twins. 1st grandbabies for her and she cried over the heartache it's taken to get here and the blessing they are....that children are. She was full of questions...like most people are. We meet many, many people like this and are continually stopped to hear of other's life stories. And the fingers....they point and they count and the low rumbling of the whispers could vibrate the floor of a room...but I just don't mind anymore. It is part of it and part of embracing where we are. To stop and take the time to listen, to be personable and take the time to move beyond self is what it's all about. To be the touchable, tangible testimony to which people can relate.

I find it funny at this stage in life that people assume that Evye and Aubrey are twins, as there is only a 2 in height difference between them, and that Garrett and Gavin are twins. When assuming we have 4 sets people usually reply after being told we have two sets with..."Ohhh! Only 2??!!" "Only two" is a bit humorous to me. As if it's perfectly normal to go birthing children in pairs. And the how many sets of twins and triplets still come. And the 3 boys are, more often than not, assumed to be triplets if they don't pair the 4 up as 2 sets of twins. People are funny to me and never cease to be an amusement.

We are now approached by many wherever we go. Being stopped no less than 20 times has become a regular occurrence...and 20 is nowhere near an exaggeration. It has taken time for my tolerance of this to grow and come to the realization that this is an opportunity to encourage others and show everyone that we are very much real in every way...fallible, common, everyday people that just happen to have been given a ton of kids. The problem I have found with pedestals is that no mortal man can balance precariously atop their stilt for long.....and it's a 1,000 foot fall to concrete when you come crashing down....and crashing down you will indeed come. But people tend to place these large families on huge towering pedestals that nobody can ever live up to. And the wannabe large families currently in the making tend to idolize the larger ones and set the number of children as something to attain or a goal to make. To me, it kind of loses the blessing of it all when it comes down to a competition between women over how many children they can sport to their name or see how many they can cram into as little time as humanly possible. We do have 10 children born in 12 years but I can honestly and sincerely say that if I learned anything through the loss of our baby it would be that bearing children is not my identity. And only other large family mothers that have reached this place would ever understand that statement and the depth that it holds. It's not a competition or about who has more or "catching up to the Duggar's". It's the ugly side of large families that no one ever really wants to address. But, it's there. The Lord has been mericful enough and so entirely gracious enough to once again assure that my focus is on Him and not anything else in life. I am the wife of Brad, mother to 10 children, and I have a purpose in life that is so much greater than what I can see. It's not about what I do or do not possess physically, it's not about the number of children I parent, it's not about homeschooling, it's not about having multiple multiples. It's about Him and where He wants me to be....where my thoughts are....where my focus is. And how blessed I feel to be here now, where I am and truly be able to say that if these 2 little guys were our last children I would be content. My heart is full, my life is full and my cup runneth over.

But, the pedestal thing....yeah...it can suck at times. And this blog, started as an attempt to put keyboard to emotions and create a written legacy for our children, has inadvertently become a public glimpse into the realities of large family living. And I seek to make this journey as real as it gets. Good days, bad days, praise, admiration, opinions, scorn and all that goes along with doing something as controversial as living this lifestyle. One of the greatest blessings ever encountered along this journey has been the ability to lay down trying to live up to everyone else's standards, trying to please anyone and everyone and just live the way we live.

More kisses from the Lord as He sends His messengers of encouragement....as we shopped as a family and were approached numerous times not long ago one particular lady came to admire and sing her praises of children's behaviour and manners. We paused from shopping to listen as she spoke of her childhood, of her memories of being raised in a large family, the bond and friendships between siblings and other things. She took a moment to speak to each of the children and kindly questioned the older ones with some small talk. They answered politely and we eventually parted ways with her gently patting each of the children and praising each of them. No more thought was given to the incident. Half an hour later the same kind woman returned and tugged my sleeve as she stood behind me. I turned to see her again as she reached for my hand and grasped it within her's. With deep gratitude and a teary thank you she actually thanked me for raising such amazing children, what an encouragement we are and slipped a folded bill into my hand as she walked away. She slipped around the corner never to be seen again as I unfolded a 50.00 bill.

Many stories I could tell of that nature. And how it blesses me to know that this job of parenting that sweet husband and I work so diligently together at does not go in vain. And that not only are our children a joy to us but also have the ability to be a joy to others as well. In the worst moments as we seek to figure out this whole thing and the attitudes that have the ability to come forth at home is the discovery that somewhere within them all it is paying off. The Lord does indeed honor those that seek Him diligently. And what an amazing thing it is to finally be able to see the fruits of our labor. And on the tough days...those days of little sleep and the days I grow weary from attitudes or sibling rivalry, the days I seem to go in circles and never make any progress at all and productivity wanes in every way....those are the days I think on these things and know how blessed we are. That the Lord does indeed encouarge the mothering heart.

This life...despite its hardships, trials and merciless thoughts that continually pound at the brain needing to be taken captive...is an absolutely amazing journey. And this seemingly sudden leap into "stardom"..said with much lightheartedness....despite my discomfort with it at times, is growing me into a whole new person...one that's learning to communicate, convey accurately the feelings that lie within, and move beyond self to be stretched far beyond the comfort zone.

Oldest appears to report that chores are completed and husband dresses in the soft closet light. He nears and caresses Baby A before turning attention to me. His hands weave themselves through strands of messy hair and I lean into him. He kisses my head as I wish him home like everyday before. Diesel rumbles away with husband and oldest son and I am left to my morning coffee and the temporary early quiet. How very amazing it is to be so loved and so steeped in beauty. It's a beautiful life.

Baby's 1st Tooth

I've begun multiple entires but in the end just delete them all due to various interruptions and never being able to finish a train of thought. This really has not become the simple woman's daybook blog but it's quick and requires very little brain activity so it's an easy filler. Preoccupation reigns a little right now along with the busyness of life. We've been in Fort Worth the last two weekends and have also traveled to husband's parents twice in order to get children where they need to be while they visit and spend time with friends and family. I love being on the road but it leaves little time for much else. So, with all 3 of the older ones home now we settle back into a routine and re-establish order. And with that will hopefully come some much needed time to pour forth thoughts.

But an honorable mention is the breaking through of Gatlin's 1st tooth at the ripe old age of 3 1/2 months. The earliest we have had any children cut any teeth was 5 months and that was Garrett. But most have come around 8-12 months, with 2 of them getting their 1st tooth the week of their 1st birthday. So, to see a tiny, little milky white tooth emerge at 3 months was a massive shock to us all. Sweet boy who cannot for the life of him figure out what that new thing is in his mouth.

The Simple Woman's Daybook

Outside my window....windy early morning darkness with the light of an almost full moon to the west and the dim haze of sunrise to the east.

_

I am thinking....I miss Evye but how grateful I am for these opportunities for our older children to broaden their world and expand their knowledge of life.

_

I am thankful for....two paid off vehicles, a CD player within one of those vehicles and good music on road trips. I love music.

_

I am wearing....Spandex running shorts with wind shorts over that and one of firefighting husband's cut off sleeve t-shirts

_

I am hearing.....Bring It On Home by Little Big Town....a favorite

_

I am remembering....that I have a very clean bathroom and the laundry is done. Both immense everyday joys to the heart.

_

I am going.....to P90X before children awake.

_

I am reading.....Radical. An amazing book that speaks my heart well.

_

I am hoping....that the long road of forgiveness has an end. And that oneday I will look up and our nightmare of a story will be an amazing biography of forgiveness, which I feel none of right now. That the rocketing feelings of wishing death by fiery car crash and strange, contradictory sympathy will somehow make sense in the end when life is all said and done.

_

On my mind....lots of stuff.

_

Noticing that.....I just really hate the smell of Gain laundry detergent. Nastiness. Tide and Snuggle. But really we don't even use Tide anymore though it is by far my favorite detergent smell. Charlie's Soap is safe for cloth diapers...which we are not currently using...and is only .8 cents a load compared to Tide, which is a whopping .25 cents a load...which equals spending your life savings on detergent when you do as many loads as we do. So, clean smelling Charlie's Soap it is and the generic Sam's brand of Snuggle.

_

Pondering these words....."He's taking a break from taking a break." Garrett

....so does that mean he went back to work, son????

_

From the kitchen.....English muffins with Nutella, yogurt, chocolate milk and bananas for breakfast for everybody....except bananas for me. I don't do bananas.

_

Around the house......the quiet of early morning

_

One of my favorite things.....peace of mind and heart.

_

From my picture journal.....

One of my beautiful boys

A twin with twins.

And, yes..he desperately needed a haircut. He's looking a bit fluffy. 5 little boys all lined up yesterday all got haircuts.

My "Valentime"

Garrison came to me yesterday, the 15th, saying, "Mom, I love you so so much and I just want to give you a Valentime. I did this for you." I bend down to meet huge green eyes and exclaim with wonder the sweetness of his gift. With a hug I tell him how very much I love him as he presents me with his little red cardboard heart.




We do not actually celebrate Valentine's Day around here. Honestly, I think it's an over commercialized ploy for the world at large to benefit and make millions on overpriced flowers, nasty red teddy bears and boxes of chocolate. You probably could buy them any other time of the year...except for the disgustingly ugly bears.... for a fraction of the cost. Along with the aforementioned overpriced items it seems to me just like an obligatory love day in which women set expectations that their husband may or may not ever be able to live up to. A perfect example of this would be the guys reactions as a Valentine's commercial hit the TV room at the station at 9pm Sunday night the 13th. One casually asked, "When is Valentine's Day anyway?" Shift husband answered simply, "Tomorrow" and panic ensued. Three of the four guys flew out of recliners. Seeming a bit panic stricken they exclaimed a few expletives and hurried out the door, as it slammed with their disappearance. Husband knew not where they went. My guess was to order some overpriced bouquet of flowers and haul butt to the Walgreen's across the street so their wives would not berate them for having "forgotten" them. Seriously...does your husband forget you??? Or is your value and self worth as his mate seriously placed on whether he remembers what date is on the calendar...especially when it comes down to a secular obligatory love day. I rather have him express it on some random day just because I was on the brain and not because the world tells him

to remember me.

To me, it just doesn't really seem like a true expression of love if it comes because the world at large has mandated my husband should produce some obligatory love object on this specific day as two million and four couples wed on this day and three billion men are also giving their wives some obligatory token of affection. Ok...so I just used the word obligatory 3 times within the last few sentences but for lack of any other word that comes to the brain it seems to portray my feelings pretty fairly on this subject. So, anyway, I have no doubt that good intentioned husband's mean it but it just always seems a little forced. I'd rather open my eyes any day of the year to a Frappachino in his hand as he wakes me when returning home from station. Or the surprise of the Diet Dr Pepper sitting on the top shelf of the frig that he bought me while out running errands...just because I'm always on his mind. Or the pumpkin coffee creamer in the bag that I never asked for yet he knew I was almost out. Or have him randomly throw in a load of laundry just because he knows that I have worked my butt off all day long and it was one of the things I just didn't get to and forgot to remind children to do. Or the mopped floors.....the blissfully pristine mopped floors....that I did not mop.


And, quite honestly, after dozens of wildflower bouquets picked excitedly by children, store bought ones seem a bit meaningless and expensive for something that can be so much more lovingly picked for free out in the middle pasture. And I love free. The simply spoken words, "You're the most prettiest mama in the whole world" that usually go with it or adoring husband's "You're still beautiful to me" are worth more than anything produced on Valentine's Day.

Everyday is Valentine's Day around here. We teach our children to live by 1 Cor 13 and that it's a daily lifestyle...that it's commitment and it takes work. Love is an emotion but it's always a choice of little decisions made throughout your day to show it.

All of that said, the history of Valentine's day is really interesting and we do use it for a history lesson every year, just as we use St Patrick's day for history and MLK day, July 4th, ect. But we just don't really officially celebrate it.....though the heart cookie cutters are fun to buy to make biscuits with all year long. And yes, we rebuy them every year because inevitably they're going to end up making dirt hearts in the flowerbed sometime between now and Feb 14th 2012. So, really it's just more of a history lesson for our crew than actually buying or making stuff.

But given the fact I did actually receive a Valentine yesterday I thought I would share the rest of the story. After being so lovingly presented with his little red heart I later went in the kitchen to discover the origin of it. Just doesn't get much sweeter than this.

Potty Training Theories

From the archives. As I have been both peed and pooped on numerous times within the last 48 hours it brought to mind this post from August 25, '07. My sentiments do not differ any from the date this was posted.

.

Alright, I have endorsed No Greater Joy under my favorite websites. And for any of you that are long time fans you might should just skip this little entry on my rambling thoughts about it all. I found it so laughable I had to get this all down before I ever forget it all later on down the road in the busyness of years long gone.

So, I eagerly await the Above Rubies and No Greater Joy magazines' arrivals. At times they're both a stretch for me but for the most part I'm right there with them and just loving the articles. The stretchy parts are things such as nursing until they're 5 and issues similar to them. I think when they're old enough to ask, "Hey mom, can I have a swig before bedtime?" it's time to cut the boob out. And I definitely haven't quite reached sainthood in feeding my family raw everything mixed with organic dirt, rocks and seaweed. But I'm getting closer to that one.

Anyway, I hungrily devoured the newly arrived NGJ last night as I nursed. Then I came across the wonderful little bit about potty training. Let me just start with some of their article.

"Every time we put a diaper on a NEWBORN baby and allow him to soil it, we are conditioning him to accept that as normal. We impart a habit."

Soooooooo........does this strike anyone as a bit odd? Um, yes. It then goes into how you can succeed to potty train from birth...like as in 2 minutes old. She then proceeds to tell the world that she watches for signs of discomfort in her newborn and then holds it over the commode! Now let's just evaluate and think here for a minute. I've had plenty of experience in my newborn diaper changing career. I can assure you that they poop at any given moment and continue pooping for 5 straight minutes. I think they have a tube that goes straight from mouth to butt with no stopping points. So, as I read I began to envision myself adapting these new techniques. With infant attached at the boob I run to the toilet and hang his little butt over it, therefore creating an unnatural and very uncomfortable position of babe with mouth on boob and butt over toilet...his little body dangling between 2 worlds of point of entrance and point of exit. And then I began to debate how you even got the poop to go in the toilet. I have yet to have a newborn that does not have a blowtorch located within his bum. I can assure you with most certainty that the exiting poop will not only fail to gently fall into the toilet but will succeed in spray painting the very farthest surface from you......including any and all sibling onlookers. And after you wrongly assume the super human force behind it all has died down the babe then begins to spout a jetted fountain of pee up into the attic and probably on into the realms of space...and it falls like rain on those around. So, just how do you position superman's baby over the toilet, balancing precariously between needs of front and back? My kids would have to be IN the toilet to have all of their bodily functions contained within it. After I finished the article I gazed lovingly at the Pamper's box sitting in the bedroom floor and almost felt the need to write it a thank you note. I love my children dearly and believe firmly in laying firm foundations.......and they can just go right ahead and keep laying their firm...or not so firm......foundations right there in their booty covers. I cannot be more thankful that I sleep peacefully through the night instead of tripping my way to the bathroom with him in my arms in my near zombie like state as Krakatoa starts the beginning of its eruptions for the 144th time that night. What kind of people do this????!!!!!

And here's a few funnies of the past week.

I overheard Grayson and Evye at the lunch table completely engrossed in their own conversation and talking in animated tones. Evye was telling him of the part in Anne of Avonlea where Matthew dies out in the pasture. With huge eyes and complete sincerity she said, "Yea, he was just cattling cows out in the pasture and he had a heart attack!"

And then Grayson, upon being asked by me what his friend's mom looks like, answered, "She looks like she just woke up all day long. And she's alot uglier than you."

Well......thank you ,Grayson. Miss America here I come...your competition may just win out yet.

Edited to add: Remember this was posted in Aug '07 and pics reflect that.

And I was looking through last year's pictures and found these. This is sister, brother and I at the big everybody birthday party last August right before we moved. I'm in the middle holding Garrett. He was only 4 1/2 months old. I was actually already pregnant with Gavin....though I wouldn't know it for another 4 months.

And here's this whole side of the family that same night. Of my 6 kids, the girls are in their brown shirts with their ivory tank tops and the boys are in their red Osh Kosh shirts and I'm holding Garrett. Brad was still commuting and on shift so he couldn't be there for the party. The other 8 kids are sister's. She found out about 3 wks ago she's pregnant with #9.

The Simple Woman's Daybook

Outside my window....beautiful sunshine.

I am thinking.....that lots of big and little kids running fever is a really pathetic scene.

I am thankful for.....an amazing relationship with my husband, my mom and the most amazing friend one could ever desire. Blessedly healthy, sweet relationships.

From the kitchen.....chicken noodle soup and Sprite.

I am wearing....black yoga pants and a breast cancer awareness, bright pink, husband rejected, dept uniform t-shirt.

I am pondering.....the fact that I need to drop about 40 lbs. Kinda daunting. But...I'm on a mission to shed. "The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." And I just did 2 miles of my thousand mile journey. Gotta start somewhere...and I've started! I've lost it before and I can do it again.

I am going....to hit the Sonic Happy Hour and buy us all cokes for 4.00.

I am hoping.... that I can make it through the rest of this day without getting peed or pooped on again.

I am reading.....One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp...still going on that one. Was supposed to finish it several nights ago....but, life happened.

I am hearing.....the sweet, dove like cooing from my two smiley,handsome, tiny boys.

Around the house.... too. much. crap.

One of my favorite things....to feel like I have achieved.

From my picture journal....

Texas Ice-lands

I love this. I love it so much more than 110 degree days with 25 mph blast furnace winds. I absolutely love chili and soup on the stove, candles burning, bundled up under covers reading books and watching movies. I love the smell of clean bathrooms and floors while sleet and snow pour forth from the sky. The gentle tapping of frozen rain gently hitting windows while we sleep....waking up to a world of white. I don't exactly love the muddy ice covered boots leaving melted water trails all over the floors which we traverse in our socks. I don't love the purple frost bitten hands that come in from having snow and ice soak through gloves, numb tongues that now pronounce words with a lisp and runny noses that no longer have any thawed nerve endings within them. But I do really love this weather and won't be the one found griping about it...but then I pretty much love any weather...except the whole 110 thing. I find that to be a little trying to the soul.

The problem with Texas is that no one is even somewhat prepared for 4 days of a frozen world. The children own 1 long sleeved shirt each. The rest of the days they run around in short sleeves in total bliss as they jump, slide, ride, and run. The outside tankless water heater does not prefer sub zero temps for days on end and does not waste any time in freezing up....for days on end. I happily and rather optimistically assumed we could live simply without hot water....until I tried to do a load of wash, run the dishwasher or have children do dishes in 33 degree water. We blithely improvised, put a kettle of water on to boil and left it hot all day long for gallons of hot tea and hundreds of bowls of oatmeal while soup bubbled happily and warmly beside it. And the wash...it could wait....kind of. But on day 3 of this pipes started freezing and then breaking and any and all water put forthage came to a complete halt. The next problem with Texas is that it rarely truly snows....it just ices over. So, underlying the beautiful winter wonderland is really the brutal, unkind ice land. And it's unkind to many water pipes lying under house, out of reach unless you cut holes in bathroom floors. In a matter of a mere 48 hours we have cut a hole in the bathroom floor, I have managed to set our kitchen on fire...and it was not small.... and do a 360 in the truck which ended wrecked in a ditch. Two pipes have broken, we've lived without hot water, lived without water at all and I've fallen on my butt twice....and butt is only the milder word that comes to mind. The house sounds like an infirmary and 7 out of 10 are running fever, 2 have ear aches and 9 are coughing. But it keeps life entirely interesting and really actually kind of fun....not the sick part.....but the rest did. It's all good. Joy pervades. The house is warm....and still standing, we have good books, good movies, lots of little comedians to keep things merry, steaming tea, bubbly soup, boiling wax, hot oatmeal, body warming coffee with a variety of enticing creamers, whip cream to top it with, 5 pair of socks with which to layer frost bitten feet due to old, drafty, wood floors, and no water to do laundry or dishes with...and that's not bad. Chores are brought to a halt so we sit and we play and we read.

The boys' bathroom sporting the new hole to get to frozen pipes. And the Pam kitchen spray??? I didn't even ask.

Working with Grayson and saving 550.00 by the two of them fixing it. Plumber gave us a quote of 250.00-275.00 to drive out and fix the 1st pipe. 24 hrs after that the 2nd one broke. I love it when he fixes stuff himself, teaches Grayson the value of doing it yourself, allowing him to learn, and just, in general, does his manly man thing. And I love the fact I'm not the one down there doing it. How grateful I am for the men in my life, their willingness to step up to the plate in 20 below weather to get the job done so we are cared for and warm. And I just like watching him work.

When messing with and teasing the little boys I asked if they cut the hole in the floor with scissors and why they would do such a thing...especially leaving such a mess and tracking dirt 3 inches thick to the backdoor. They stated and restated that "Daddy did it and they did not." Gavin finally stated adamantly...."Mama!! Him boots did it!!" The bottom of his boots are mild compared to what they...and the floor....looked like in the end. He was amazing though and swept the entire floor after it was all said and done. Yes, I love it when he fixes stuff.

So about that fire thing......In all of my frugality I take the unused wax in the bottom of candles, toss the chunks in a coffee cup and melt them softly and gently....softly and gently being the key word here.....over the stove in an effort to use the candle to the fullest extent. But apparently the simmer setting is a little more of a simmer than I gave it credit for. Burner set to this practical setting we all eventually began to notice house smelled a little funky and a nice haze pervaded. Responsible oldest son goes to investigate. I follow. Kitchen reached and we're greeted by outrageously boiling wax smoking obnoxiously in little coffee cup on stovetop. As if on cue for our arrival it burst into a little cup of flames. And I must preface here that I am quite knowledgeable in my fire wife status and that any and all grease fires are responsibly put out with baking soda or by handy fire extinguishers. What no one really bothers to tell anybody is that a candle...wax more specifically....is really truly just a pretty grease fire in disguise....though a candle contains no true kitchen grease. So....we managed to figure out the hard way that it does actually contain some molecular cousin to grease. Quick thinking son turns burner immediately off and kills the heat. We stand observing our little controlled fire, trouble shooting options. No towel over it....it'll catch on fire. Little bit of an overkill for the extinguisher. Glass plate, maybe? Oh....that's right...we don't actually own any. As we debated the little cup fire rose a little higher and licked at the wooden spoons above...despite the lack of heat since we had, after all, done the sensible thing and turned burner off. As round little cup fire shot a little higher I bravely moved spoons out of harm's way and came to the quick, and seemingly innocent, decision we had to extinguish quickly now...which meant water. Obedient son gets an entire cup of water and tosses. And the newest lesson of the day began. There was absolutely nothing miniature about the sudden explosion that took place. Flames,massive and towering, blowtorched outward and upward through the kitchen....under the vent hood, around the vent hood, up the cabinets, across the walls and upward and onward to the ceiling. By this time every kid watching the little cup fire was now running for points of exit. So I danced a jig, made sure Grayson was ok and said about every cuss word that has ever existed in my vocabulary. It burned a little everywhere as I speed dialed firefighting husband, seeing as how it now seemed his services would come in useful in his home life as well. It worked out well since he was not the usual 32 miles away but a mere block away running the water plant. Seemed a little ironic to me that we're at home blowtorching the kitchen while he's at work making water. And I must interject here that calling 911 and volunteer dept to our aid would have only furthered our slight problem. The house would burn down and set the rest of the town on fire by the time they even figured out how to unroll their hoses and where the nearest hydrant is. I figured I stood more of a chance with firefighting husband. But, just as quickly as it torched the kitchen it all went out. I never did quite understand that one. The little cup seemed to blow fire and then inhale it once again and all of the flames and excitement died as swiftly as they started....almost. Husband made it home to take in the singed scene and black walls. He did a thorough check of the kitchen, opening cabinet doors to make sure no more tiny little flames escaped without notice. Little coffee cup sat black with a million cracks but glued together by the thousand degree wax/grease in disguise. So, that made our 30 below day somewhat interesting and kept us quite toasty. Now to repaint the walls. Cause the black doesn't wipe off.

The pics do not even begin to do this scene justice of any sort. That would be the blackened coffee cup. It shot so far that we are still finding wax on the ceiling, cabinets and floor. The pan that sat next to the cup appears to have been dipped in wax. It took an ice scraper to get the thickly coated countertops wax free.

The 7 ft ceilings and the corner that is 5 or so ft away from the cup.

You can actually see the shape of the flames in the black. And the ceiling was clean so none of that is dust. The concentrated black parts next to the molding are where the ceiling had little baby flames on it that took a little longer to go out.

As if torching the kitchen wasn't enough my destructive self decided to help hard working 80 hr a week husband out and make the 16 mile trip to the nearest town to grab dog food, cat food and the other emergent necessities. He assured me roads were quite clear at this point and all was indeed well. With most children sleeping warmly in bed I set off with two oldest in tow. Roads were a little slicker and a little more coated with ice than what confident husband had portrayed..but, overall, were do-able. Well trafficked highway was clear for the most part so we drove in the dark with the myriad of big trucks that frequent it come rain, snow, sleet or shine. I made the familiar turn onto tiny laned, rarely traveled backroad where nothing in life exists except for the occasional herd of shivering cattle and frozen goats. Ice coated road, we slipped and slid the remaining way to the lights of town. Sharp curve in road harbored little ice so all was well. We arrived and bought needed items, laughing and chatting rather merrily. With more confidence the truck climbs the hill home, rounds the sharp curve slowly, tops the hill and with no apparent dangers lurking since I had, after all, traversed this path once already I accelerate onto a solid sheet of 3 inch ice ....which then sends us whirling. I must interject here also that I am quite good at slipping and sliding in vehicles on these rutted, 4 feet deep mud roads when it rains. But ice differs quite drastically from mud. So, I, in all of my infinite wisdom, let off accelerator calmly, steer into it, try to line bed up with cab and promptly send us twirling into a complete 360...in which then Evye aids us all by screaming. As taught by expert 4 wheeling husband I accelerate at this point trying to gain control but was apparently a little behind the power curve. Accelerating only proves to complicate the issue as the front 2 tires finally grab solid asphalt while back tires remain on ice. In a whiplashed move front tires stay in place while back end of truck is jet propelled behind us and we begin going backwards into a deep ditch, up the hill behind it and finally are stopped by the fenced pasture, where a manmade waterless tank sits with a 10 foot dropoff to dirt below. We all get out and assess the situation. Trying to avoid calling at-home husband with 8 sleeping young children I optimistically think I'll drive my way out of it, all the while trying to avoid more fence damage and rocking truck into the depths below. Five minutes pass with no progress as we finally come to the realization that truck sits at such a steep angle that deer guard on front is dug deeply into both snow, ice and earth. Tail light was broken and massive front end replacement bent. Husband makes decision to come to our aid despite the fact I tell him over and again I'll eventually get out of it....but we'd just be later than expected. After 5 more minutes of trying on my own it became entirely evident that we were not going anywhere anytime soon. As we waited for rescuer the stuck 3 of us played on the asphalt ice rink. Middle of an abandoned road, on a freezing winter night out in the middle of nowhere we took running starts and could successfully slide 3 entire feet. We made games of the most distance covered and froze and fell and laughed and slid some more. Headlights finally appeared on lone forsaken road and monstrous, diesel rumbling, old faithful appeared. It didn't take long for 15 passenger van to end up in same ditch truck occupied. After an entire half hour of lots of cooperation, communication and gas usage van finally managed to free stuck truck. I really love our van and the fact we drive big vehicles.

Ice covered dirt. The dirt street is not supposed to be shiny.

Warm happy boys

In all of our indoorness a little boredom set in for the younger ones so Ivye decided to give herself a haircut. Her new rhino horn. Her siblings have now lovingly nicknamed her "rhino". And the yellow line to the side of her chin would be yellow highlighter.

Thundersnow and ice blowing in from the north

With artic front blown over we now all sit in beautiful sunshine on a 60 degree day...thawed water lines with functional washing machine, dishwasher and water to clean bathrooms and mop floors. Windows thrown open to air out fever and sickness and coughs. Looks like a beautiful day to run.