Mommy Snark

A Tribute to Old Friends

2012-06-01T13:24:00.000-04:00

I received a baby quilt in the mail yesterday from Erica, an old friend that I haven't seen in years. It's a beautiful quilt, and a thoughtful gesture that means a great deal to me. As I read the note, I smiled because even after all this time, Erica's crazy handwriting seemed familiar. That's the funny thing about friendships forged in childhood. Years of time and space and life can separate you, but in the end, you still have those moments that link you together, the experiences of youth that you can't forget because in some way they helped define the person you were working to grow into.

I will never forget going to Erica's home to feed her hamster while her family vacationed, and much to my horror, finding the cage utterly and completely empty. My mother and sister and I crawled around the lower level of her house for well over an hour searching for that stupid little thing. I remember feeling so completely heartbroken because I knew how much she loved her animals. How could I tell her her hamster was gone? And under my watch? We found the little escape artist in the darkened corner of the hall closet. I'd never been so glad to see a scurrying ball of fur.

It was at Erica's house that I watched and danced to hours of Billy Joel music videos. To this very day, I cannot hear Piano Man or Uptown Girl without thinking of her. It was in her living room that, in the 5th grade,we watched parts of Dirty Dancing before yanking the tape out of the VCR and hiding it under a couch cushion moments before her mother entered the room. Friendship strengthened through disobedience is sure to stand the test of time, yes?

There are many friends from my youth that I don't keep up with very well. The reality of life is that we grow up and start lives that take us in different directions--that lead us to new places and new friends. We experience events in life that seem far more significant than how we spent our summer afternoons in 1989. Even still, there is something to be said for those friendships formed in youth; a certain mysterious quality to the relationships that exist with people that knew you before you really knew yourself. Our friendships leave imprints on our identity that even years later are still there--still a part of who we are. For that, I'm glad.

Care to join me for a stroll down memory lane? This is by no means an all encompassing list; more a "these are the friend pictures I could find in my old box of pictures" list.

Of course, these guys were my very best friends.
Even when I hated their guts, they were still my favorite.
From the left, Me, Jared, Ehren, and Emily

I'm guessing this was around the 4th grade... That's me on the right,
and Erica.(The baby quilt maker in the flesh.) She shared my love for horses
and worked with me on an extra credit project cataloging horse breeds.We took
riding lessons together for years.

My fellow teammates from my 7th grade Odyssey of the Mind team might
hate me for sharing this one. We won big that year, going all the way to
World Competition. Odyssey of the Mind, and the friendships made on
those teams, 5th grade through 8th grade helped me to love middle school,
in all it's awkward glory.

Another OM picture, this time in 8th grade with our 1st place trophies.
That's me in the middle. Would that my legs had remained that skinny...

The final middle school picture. Me, on the right
and one of my closest friends through middle
and high school, Jennifer. And yes, that is a giant Moe
head on my t-shirt. Middle school was a strange,
strange place.

That's me and my older brother, there in the middle. We were on swim team
together, ran cross country together... High school was a good time
for us. Even if he would leave me behind if I didn't haul it to his car
after school instead of spending too much time "socializing".
Ever the social butterfly... that was a tough one for me.

Ah, the prom. In all it's terrible awful wonderfulness.

This was just after graduation, on a trip to the lake with
some girl friends. It was a wild trip, that one. We went
skinny dipping in the lake, just us girls. And then on
Sunday, I convinced them all to come to church with me.
We were a rowdy bunch, for sure.

Anyone who ever spent any time at my house growing up knows all about
the chair in the kitchen where we would sit and watch television,
two feet away from the screen. This is one of my best friends of all time, Billy.
He might have spent more time in that chair than anyone not blood related.

College roommates. My time with these girls was brief, before I up and
decided to get married. But they were cherished friends, strangers that
became friends when we were tossed into each others lives, sharing a
love for denim and belts, tucked in t-shirts and Doc Martins. I love 1999.

Back at home with my high school friends, all probably amazed that they
were attending a bridal shower for a fellow graduate when they'd been out of high school
less than 9 months. Yeah, yeah, I was surprised too.

And finally, this. It doesn't have to do with friends.
But I kinda thought a perm as bad as this one deserved
to be shared. 2nd grade wasn't such a good year for me.
Thanks Mom.

Easy Canvas Prints 16x20 Giveaway

2012-05-29T13:47:00.001-04:00

I've said it before. I don't really love to blog about stuff as much as I like to blog about life. But sometimes, stuff comes along that is cool enough to deserve mentioning... especially when I have the opportunity to give away said cool stuff. (Do, please, read on. You'll want to win what I'm giving away.)

Last month, my amazing friend and professional photographer, Destinee Blau came and took pictures of my family. ALL 8 of us. She's one brave woman! I am of the opinion that the entire afternoon was an incredible success (see this post here) but then, they're my kids, so of course, I'm biased.

Knowing that I had great photos to work with, I couldn't resist partnering up with Easy Canvas Prints--a great website offering affordable canvas prints of your favorite photos. I anxiously awaited my own 16x20 canvas print and was thrilled when it finally arrived. See? (I look thrilled, yes?)

I know it's hard to see how truly fabulous the canvas is when I'm showing you a picture that Lucy took with my little measly camera sitting on my front porch. But trust me. It really turned out beautiful.

The canvas wraps around the edge as you can see in the next photo. The wrap here is 3/4 inch, but you can order a larger 1.5 inch wrap if you prefer. (And yes, that is an empty flower pot sitting next to the canvas. Well, it's not totally empty. It's full of rocks and dirt. What? I just had a baby. Don't judge my lack of planting.)

So I'm totally pumped to be able to give one of you, my fine readers, your very own 16x20 canvas print from Easy Canvas Prints. You simply upload your favorite photo to Easy Canvas Prints, and they'll print it up, and send it along, totally and completely FREE. (Unfortunately, because of shipping charges, the giveaway is only available to readers within the continental United States.)

Whether you enter the giveaway or not, be sure to check out Easy Canvas Prints and bookmark their site. They have great sales and promotions running all the time.

Here's how it works. Enter the giveaway by doing any of the following tasks listed below. Once the task is completed, click on that task (within the widget) to let me know that you've done it. That's it. Not too complicated is it? You can log in using your facebook profile, or simply use your email address. I promise your email address isn't shared with anyone. It's simply recorded so that I have the means to contact you should you win. Do let me know if you have any questions, or if you feel you entries aren't being recorded as they should. (For more information on Rising Star Outreach, the charity I support and that you can support when entering the contest, click here: Rising Star Outreach and Mommy Snark

(And also, I'm obligated to tell you that no monetary compensation was received for this post. Easy Canvas Prints sent me a 16x20 print for the sake of this review. That's it. My opinions, as always, are completely my own.)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

The Kids

2012-05-24T23:33:00.000-04:00

Courtesy of Destinee Blau Photography.

Religion not for Children? My Response.

2012-05-23T00:33:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I read a BlogHer blog post that really got under my skin. You might ought to check it out if you'd like to understand completely where my thoughts are coming from. Here's the link:

Stop Inviting my Kid to Church: Religion is Not for Children

All caught up? Good.

I was 16 years old when I had an experience that solidified my certainty that God knew exactly who I was. I had always known who He was, but this experience took our relationship one step further. I knew Him... and He knew me. It's a personal experience, one too personal to share in such a public forum, but it was real and good and validating and has stayed with me as a defining moment in my life, even 15 years later. I was prepared for such an experience because from the earliest days of my childhood I was taught about who God was. I was taught to recognize Him in the beauty of the world around me, in the love that I felt in my home, in the joy and happiness that I found in playing outside or snuggling inside. I was taught to recognize that God is everywhere, that God is love.

As a child, I was never told that if I did not believe a certain way, I was going to hell. I was never told that my friends who didn't believe as I do were going to hell. I was never told that those who make different choices than I do, who live different lifestyles than I do were going to hell either. I was taught to be tolerant, to be kind, to be compassionate and forgiving.

I acknowledge that their is a brand of toxic Christianity that exists that judges and belittles and demeans. I am a Mormon that grew up in the Southern United States. I have experienced such discrimination first hand. In high school, I had a boy tell me he didn't want to date me anymore because his preacher told him I was going to hell for being Mormon. Notes were regularly left in my locker, inviting me to be saved, informing me that prayer meetings were being held on my behalf. Such gestures were particularly frustrating because I considered myself a person with a strong sense of who Jesus was and what role He played in my life.

I won't try and tell anyone that all Christians, or all people of faith in general are perfect, but I will assert that to paint us all with one big brush--to push us all into a box of intolerant narrow mindedness, to imply that we are all scaring our children into following our footsteps with tales of fire and brimstone simply isn't fair.

When my husband and I teach our children about God, we teach them that they have a right, even an obligation to study and pray and ponder so that they may learn for themselves. Of course, there is a level of blind obedience that exists with young children. But ultimately, each of my children will reach an age where they will have to decide for themselves what they believe. I guarantee when that day comes, they won't have a mother standing over their head threatening damnation if they happen to choose a different path.

The thing is, I feel this way not in spite of my faith in God, but because of it. Because the God that I know is good and gracious and kind and loves us all. And that's what my children are taught in church.

Reverent Children are Weird*

2012-05-20T17:50:00.000-04:00

*In a question and answer session with the former General Relief Society President of the LDS Church, Julie B. Beck, someone asked how to encourage reverence in their children. Sister Beck responded that we had to do the best we could, but not to worry about it. "Reverent children are weird," she said. I love her for that remark.

Three weeks ago, I had an experience at church that was terrible in every sense of the word. It wasn't life changing or earth shattering or linked to any major consequences, but in the moment, it hurt a great deal. I hesitated to write about it because I didn't want to speak negatively of another person, but I think it might spark a discussion that could remind us all to think about how we treat people, as well as how we react when people treat us.

I'll set the stage for you. Our chapel is small - about six rows deep, with three sections in each row, moving across the room. If packed full, it would probably seat about 100 people comfortably, though we never have that many in attendance. I expect some people think I'm crazy for it, but I sit in the front row. I do this because the front row is closest to the door and inevitably I will need to escape with one or more of my children during the course of our Sacrament meeting. And also, my husband currently serves in the Branch Presidency (the lay leadership of our congregation) which means he sits up front, on the stand. When I am in the front row, I am close enough to my husband that one of the boys can go and sit beside him if need be. And he is close enough that he can parent the children, JUST BY LOOKING into their eyes. We don't need to mention the fact that I also generally arrive at church 2 to 5 minutes late every single Sunday. Since there are seven of us, it would be difficult to squeeze in anywhere else besides the front row which is generally empty until we get there.

So. Front row. One mom. Six children, one of which is three weeks old. Another of which is a 2 year old. Another of which is a 5 year old. Am I sounding desperate yet? Now, I think Ivy is a pretty delightful 2 year old. She's funny and spunky and generally a pretty happy kid. Like most two year olds, she doesn't like to sit still and she is absolutely incapable of remembering to whisper for longer than 45 seconds. These things make church challenging on the best of days, down right impossible on others. But we go and we manage the best we can and we pray that all those around us will be forgiving and tolerant, perhaps especially so in the weeks just after a baby is born when our entire family is trying to adjust to the extra responsibility and activity that comes from another addition.

For all these reasons I was completely bowled over when just after the meeting closed my first Sunday back at church, a woman that I didn't know approached me with a not so nice look upon her elderly face.

"I hate to be so bold," she said. "But someone has to be bold with you..."

She then went on to tell me how absolutely disruptive Ivy was for all of Sacrament meeting. She was loud and distracting and made it so that she and her husband weren't able to hear for the entire meeting. She told me that she had children that were young once, and you have to discipline them, you have to tell them to be quiet. You have to be firm, and she didn't see me one single time tell "that little girl" to be quiet. It was so terrible, she didn't think her husband (who wasn't a member of our church and was visiting) wasn't ever going to come back.

As I stood there with my three week old baby in my arms, I was absolutely speechless. I've come up with quite a few things I could have said since then, each thick with the same "boldness" that she used when addressing me. But in the moment, all I wanted to do was cry. So I did. I escaped to the nursing mother's room and cried while Jack nursed. I was embarrassed, I was angry, but more than anything else, my feelings were hurt. I have less of an issue with the fact that this woman told me my kid was loud. I know she's loud. I sit with her every single Sunday. But to tell me that the reason she is loud is because I wasn't parenting her as I should have? That was hard to hear.

By the time Jack finished nursing, I was feeling a little better. I vented to my husband and to my friend Valerie, both of whom were firmly in my corner. Had this woman every attended church in a place where there are 25 nursery age children and 65 primary children? In our branch, the two youngest children in our congregation both belong to me. Ivy is usually in nursery by herself. I know she's loud, but she's not near as loud as 25 two year olds. And let's not even begin to talk about the fact that this was my first Sunday back after having a baby--my first Sunday trying to juggle six children through an hour of reverence. I could go on, but I expect those of you that are mothers are feeling enough indignation that I can stop.

Three weeks later, I can look at the situation with a little more kindness. Kindness doesn't change the fact that I feel this woman was wrong. But I can, at the very least, acknowledge that I understand where she might have been coming from. A few years ago, I frequently visited a woman that was hard of hearing. She explained to me that many Sundays she sat in the congregation and for an entire hour, wasn't able to hear a single word of the meeting. She would leave frustrated and disappointed that what she expected to be an uplifting experience fell far short. She also explained that when you wear a hearing aid, the device picks up the sounds that are closest to you. If a noisy child is in between you and the speaker, your hearing aid will pick up the child, leaving you to wonder if the speaker is talking about the fried chicken he wants to have for lunch. Both the woman who confronted me and her husband were, for lack of a more delicate way to put it, OLD. I don't know that they were wearing hearing aids, but it's a very logical possibility. Couple that with the fact that this woman, who IS a Mormon, had brought her husband to church, who is NOT a Mormon, and it's easy to see how she could have been frustrated if he wasn't able to gain any spiritual insight because of the distracting two year old in the front row. Especially if he usually attends a different church where children are kept in childcare and are not in attendance with their parents. I also have to admit that my filter for how much noise requires the removal of an offending child is probably a little thicker because if I leave the meeting with one child, I am leaving my remaining children in the meeting to be attended by those sitting around me.

All this to say, church with six children is hard. Though, my run in with this woman, who isn't someone that regularly attends in our area, is most definitely an isolated incident. Generally, I'm surrounded by fellow branch members who understand that with my husband sitting on the stand, I may need an extra measure of tolerance, or a willing set of extra hands or arms to hold a baby or help an older child. There are so many that love and support my family. We feel lucky to live where we live. But because I love these people, I would hate for their Sunday experience to be diminished because my family is noisy. There has to be a balance, I think. If my experience with this woman has taught me anything, it's to make sure I strive for that balance and not take advantage of the kindness and tolerance of others.

How do YOU find a balance and what would you have done in my situation?

My Writing Goals - Out Loud and In Print

2012-05-14T23:49:00.002-04:00

I wrote my first book in just under nine months. Beginning to end, proofed, edited and sent to publisher. Funny how nine months seems like plenty of months to grow a baby, but I'm wondering how I ever managed to grow a book in so short a time. But I was driven and excited and my children were all old enough that my nights were pretty much free and clear for me to write or sleep, according to my own will, and not the demands of a nursing infant. And so I wrote.

When it was finished, my life suddenly became full of other things. I had my fifth baby, and then my sixth. I worked on my schooling. I served in church. I didn't try to stop writing, but somehow I wasn't finding (or making) time for it. A part of me, the wordy, listens to conversations in her head, writes late into the night part of me had fallen woefully silent.

14 months went by while I was waiting to hear back from the publisher that was reviewing my manuscript. I think a part of me was afraid to write something new because I wanted to see if my first book was even good enough to warrant any future effort. I realize this was ridiculous logic. Where would any writer be if one rejection stopped them from ever writing again? But so consumed was I in my waiting, that writing just didn't happen.

When acceptance finally came (Yay!) I told myself I had no reason NOT to be writing. I was good enough. My book was going to be published. Why not write another, then another? But life was so busy and the new baby, and then the other new baby, and the older kids, and the housework and this, and that, and always something else... I hardly had free time to scratch my nose, much less write a novel.

It's been 14 more months since my first manuscript was accepted. I've certainly written some. I'm well over one hundred pages into my next manuscript and you know what? I think it's good. I love my characters and the conflict is good and I think I'm moving in the right direction. But it's taking too long and I want to do better. I want to write more. No, I need to write more.

So this is me making a commitment. This is me saying that while I will always put my children first, I might not put the laundry first. (At least not every day.) I've had so many conversations with other writers about the struggle to find the balance, to make your writing priority without letting it take over your life. At the same time, a certain measure of sacrifice is required. I have so little free time as a Mom. When I have it, I'm going to have to make a conscious choice about how I want to spend it. So here we go.

1500 words a day.

Manuscript Deadline: September 30

I'm gonna do it, yo. You heard it hear first.

Care for an update on that first manuscript I mentioned up above? Heh. Me too! Still slated for a 2013 release, but details beyond that are yet unknown. The good news is that we're nearly half way to 2013!

Just Write? Or maybe Just Sleep.

2012-05-08T12:38:00.002-04:00

Last night Jordan came to the top of the stairs and mentioned that he didn't have any clean clothes to wear the following day. I glanced at the mounds of laundry now cascading out of my laundry room and into the kitchen and sighed. I was hardly surprised. It's hard to do laundry one handed and since so much of my time is spent holding or nursing or changing a baby, I don't have two free hands very often. I told Jordan I would make sure he had something clean to wear, even though I knew it meant I would be awake for at least another two hours, sorting, then washing, then finally tossing into the dryer.

But then, maybe two hours wouldn't be such a bad thing. The baby was sleeping, recently fed and settled. Was it possible that I would have two full hours where I quite legitimately needed to be awake, night time hours that I could justifiably dedicate to something other than sleep? Was it possible that I could sit down and actually do a little bit of writing? I felt lighter just with the thought of it. I hurried through my evening routine, checking on the kids, washing my face, brushing my teeth, all while thinking about the characters in my current work in progress. I longed to find them, to reconnect, to make something more of their story. I rushed to the laundry room, sorting through until I found a pair of Jordan's shorts, then cursed when I realized that there were wet clothes in the dryer, AND in the washing machine. But no matter. More time to write, yes? I restarted the dryer, then moved to the couch where I nudged the dog out of the way and settled comfortably onto the middle cushion, the one with the hole in the back that makes you feel like you are surrounded on all sides by couch. I opened up my laptop, my fingers itching to write. It was exciting to connect with the other me--the me that writes novels even though with six children there is so little time and even less energy, especially when one of those children is only four weeks old and still wants and needs so much.

And then it hit me. I was stationary for the first time in hours. It only took a moment for my body to remember how tired I really was. Even the strongest desire to write can't compete with a nursing mother's need to sleep. But I couldn't sleep. The laundry... my characters... Jordan's need for clean shorts...

...

...

...

The baby woke me up at 2 AM. My fingers were still positioned on the keyboard, my head tilted awkwardly onto the couch cushion behind me. I'd been sleeping for three hours.

Sitting up. Ready to write. Dead asleep.

I closed the laptop with a weary sigh and went to get the baby. His tiny fists were clenched, his face red as he reminded me to hurry. He was hungry and in case I'd forgotten, I was the only one who could do something about it. I snuggled him close and stroked his cheek as he started to nurse. He grunted once, then twice, then sighed as the milk started to flow. He was content.

And me? I was content too.

(linking up with Heather of the Extraordinary Ordinary's Just Write.)

A Book Review: The Harvest of Grace

2012-05-07T23:29:00.000-04:00

I received a copy of this book from Waterbrook Multnomah's Blogging for Books program. The only compensation I receive for this review is the pleasure of talking about books. Because books are fun and they make me happy.

The Harvest of Grace, by Cindy Woodsmall is actually the third novel in a series of Amish romance novels called the Ada's House series. I know. Nothing says fun like Amish romance, right?

Um, guess what?

I totally loved this book. Having not read the first two books in the series, I wasn't sure how jumping right into book 3 would feel. Right from the start, I felt perfectly at home. While characters from previous novels are present, even vital in this third installment, the main characters and the main love story is unique to this book and thus easily read without feeling lost.

Here's the thing about romance novels. The point is for two people to fall in love. Most of the time, you know which two people are supposed to wind up together. You know there will be some sort of conflict that threatens to keep them apart forever and ever. You know that in the end, love will conquer all and everything will end with a great big happily ever after. You don't read a romance novel because you expect something different. You read because the process of falling in love is fun--because the journey is worth reading about. Well wait. Not in all romance novels. In many romance novels the journey is never, ever, ever worth reading. But in this book? It's totally worth it.

The Harvest of Grace is full of engaging characters that are easy to love, and easy to feel invested in. There is a wonderful contrast between the simplicity of Amish life and the complexity of human experience, no matter your religion or family background.

If you like a good romance, without the smut that so frequently fills the pages of most mainstream romance novels, based on The Harvest of Grace, I would most heartily recommend Cindy Woodsmall's entire series.

Life with Six (AND new pictures of Jack)

2012-05-01T11:14:00.000-04:00

I went to the grocery store yesterday. It was my first time venturing out anywhere beyond the pick up line at the school so it felt a bit like a grand adventure. Jordan was still at school, at Science Club, so I only had the five youngest with me. I strapped the baby into a front carrier, put Ivy in the cart, and urged the other three to stay close, follow the cart and keep their hands to themselves. We managed surprisingly well. Jack slept the entire time, Ivy didn't try standing up in the cart one single time, and I only had to remind the others to stay close 372 times.

In the checkout line, the man bagging my groceries looked, counted and then asked, "Are these all with you?"

"Yes, they're all mine," I answered.

His eyes grew wide. "Were any of them adopted?"

Funny, funny man. It IS funny because my kids aren't actually all that close together in age. I know women who have six kids in eight, even seven years. It took me 11 years to get this many, AND I cheated and had two at once.

Still, I do feel six kids has catapulted me into a realm of big families that even with five kids, we didn't quite reach. I feel this keenly when all 8 of us are in the minivan... every seat occupied, without an inch of spare space.

Or when I catch strangers counting my children as they see us walk by.

Or when I realize that I have a new baby, and a baby monitor in my bedroom, at the same time. BECAUSE THERE'S ANOTHER BABY SLEEPING UPSTAIRS.

I went to get my haircut the other day from a woman I was meeting for the first time. I told her I'd just had a baby a few weeks before. She asked me if it were my first. Heh. I try and answer as casually as possible when I say, "No, my sixth."

I've often joked that I'm going to make business cards, or even a t-shirt that says, "Yes, they're all mine. Yes, I have figured out what causes pregnancy. Yes, I had them all on purpose, and NO, I wouldn't change a thing."

I wouldn't change a thing. That I know most of all. I stood at the kitchen sink yesterday, washing the last of the dishes. The baby was asleep, the boys playing basketball and the girls jumping together on the trampoline. For a blissful, quiet moment, I was alone. The silence was interrupted when Henry burst into the house, red checked and breathless, his little fist clenched tightly around a handful of flowers and clover.

"These are for you, Mom," he said.

I thanked him and kissed his head, and he darted happily out the door. I remember as a kid, walking home from the bus stop and gathering the same white flowers, knowing how happy they would make my Mom. I imagine she tossed quite a few handfuls of sweaty, wilted flowers into the trash after I'd moved onto another activity and would no longer notice their absence. But I don't doubt what those simple bouquets meant to her, because I now realize what they mean to me. It's not life changing stuff. They're only weeds, after all. But they are a reminder that to be loved by your children is an incredibly rewarding, lovely thing. I remember how much my heart wanted to make my Mom happy with those silly flowers. It kind of makes me feel like a rock star to think that my kids feel the same way about me.

********
And also, have you seen these yet? I shared them on Facebook already, but in case you don't subscribe to Facebook updates, (which you can remedy over in yonder sidebar area) I'll share them here too. This baby? He is a literal slice of heaven.

Photos courtesy of my amazing friend Destinee, of Destinee Blau Photography. She spent an entire afternoon with us last week and took pictures of the entire family. If you click over to her blog, she's already shared a sneak peek of the family shots as well. I'll share more on the blog in the next few weeks. For now, a bit of newborn bliss.

A Baby Update

2012-04-14T16:03:00.000-04:00

My head is full of words that I wish I could form into wonderful beautiful sentences to describe the past week. But lets be completely real. I'm tired. So tired that my teeth hurt. Is that a real expression? I feel like I've heard it before. This time though, I use it because literally, my teeth hurt. See, I've been doing much sleeping while sitting up, holding a nursing baby, my head rolled forward, my teeth clamped together at an awkward angle. And so they hurt. Weird, huh?

But the baby? Oh, he's totally worth it. He was born on Tuesday. 8 lbs. 2 ounces, a head full of hair, though not quite as much as the others. He has Sam's hairline, which makes me excited to think I might have another with Sam's crazy curly hair. For now, his eyes are blue, but it's a dark blue that in some lights starts to look brown, so it won't surprise me if he winds up with the same chocolate eyes of his brothers.

We've been home since Thursday, recovering nicely and enjoying all our lovely time together. The big kids are completely enamored with their new baby brother. Even Ivy took one look at him in the hospital and was hooked. She climbed onto my bed, looked at me with her huge brown eyes, held out her arms and said, "Mom, I have it?"

I've only had a few moments where I looked at Josh and wondered if six kids wasn't going to break us all together. In the car, on the way home, for example, with kids squashed into every corner of the minivan with little room to spare, whining about elbows and personal space and not being able to recline and... I don't need to go on, do I? At least the dog wasn't with us. Five days in, we've had a few more weary moments, but it's easy to forget them when you see the kids scrambling to get their hands washed so they can take a turn holding the baby after school, when you recognize the efforts they are making to pitch in, to be more self reliant when Mom can't help tie shoes/tuck them in/spread butter on their toast/etc.

And of course, one can't forget the magic that simply happens when you spend any amount of time around a newborn. Six times in, it's still a miracle--a living, breathing testament that God is real and good and ever present in our lives.

I almost forgot. Baby has a name. Jackson Ayres... both family names that seem to suit him perfectly. We're calling him Jack.

Love Notes

2012-04-04T19:35:00.002-04:00

This morning, my older children all woke up to find a note from their Dad tucked into their shoe, or into the pocket of their shorts. Through the course of the morning, they all brought me their notes, a shy pride evident as they passed it to me so I could read it as well. Each note was specific, encouraging, and full of a father's love. After the kids were off to school, I gathered up the notes and put them in a safe place. I still have notes my father wrote to me when I was a child. It means just as much to read them now as it did then.

We live in a treacherously frightening world. There are evils and dangers lurking in so many dark and dusty corners, willing and waiting to trap our children, it's a wonder any of us ever let our kids leave our living rooms in the first place. But leave, they must. Our only hope is to arm them with what they need in order to stand in holy places, no matter where they are, no matter what is lurking in the corners.

I didn't know my husband was planning on writing notes for each of the children. I must have been long asleep when he took the time to do so. But I know when I watched my daughter's face this morning as she read her note, that the love she receives from her Dad fills up a part of her that will help arm her for whatever the world may bring. To be validated and loved, unconditionally, and for no particular reason beyond simply being who you are is an incredible thing. To know that no matter what happens at school, no matter what friends or peers think or do or say, home is a place where you are loved and cherished and appreciated for exactly who you are--what could possibly feel better than that? Our house is far from perfect, our parenting frequently falling short of the mark. But I do know that our goal is to have a home where my children feel safe, where they feel absolutely, unequivocally loved. We may not do everything right. But I think we can do that. Or at least, we can try.

Today, I'm particularly grateful that while I may, in the last days of my pregnancy, be short tempered and cranky, my lap woefully small when it comes time to snuggle, my husband is aware of our children's needs and is reaching out to them, seeing them for who they are, recognizing what they need.

And also, he left me a love note too. I know he loves his kids, but dude. I am so totally his favorite.

********
Just picked a winner for the book giveaway. The winner is Keisha C. Congrats, Keisha!

Ivy's Prayer and Other Things that Make Her Cute

2012-04-02T22:21:00.000-04:00

Tonight as our family knelt together (except for me... kneeling is entirely too hard in my current massively pregnant state, so I get a pass and sit on the ottoman) for family prayer, Ivy decided that she wanted to pray for us. Now, remember she's not yet 2. Still, one is never too young to start praying, so I as she folded her arms, I whispered to her that I would help her.

And this is how it went:

Me: Dear... (waiting for her to repeat)

Ivy: Uh huh

Me: Heavenly Father...

Ivy: Uh huh

Me: Thank you for our family

Ivy: Uh huh...

Me: Thank you for Jesus...

Ivy: Uh huh... Amen.

Can we talk about how cute she is right now? Seriously people. She owns the market on two year old cuteness. Unless she's tired, and then, whoa buddy, you better watch out. But well rested? She's flippin adorable. She calls Josh and I Mom and Dad because that's what the older kids call us. It kind of makes me sad that I'm not Mommy anymore, but what's a Mom to do? I don't mind it so much when she pats me on the back and says, "Mom, be back back." That's her way of saying "Mom, I'll be right back."

Ivy has the same self assurance that her older brother Sam has. While Jordan and Lucy tend to be a bit more reserved when it comes to meeting new children, or interacting with others, Ivy is generally outgoing and quick to make friends with others. We go to the park and you hear her little voice all over the playground, "Mon..." she says, "Come play a me!" Or in grown up speak, "Come on, Come play with me!"

Know what else makes her happy? We have a dog named Blue. And more than anything in this world, Ivy loves Blues Clues. When we are all outside together, she'll search tirelessly for Blue's spotted bone, the one that just happens to have real honest to goodness paw print clues decorating each end.

You know, I still call her my baby? I realize that will change in a matter of days, but it's hard to think of her as anything else. Speaking of baby, I'm pretty sure he has a name. But I'm not gonna tell you what it is, because then, I'll change my mind again. Lucky for you, you only have to wait a week to find out!

********
Do you like good, clean, romantic fiction? Until Wednesday, you can still enter to win a copy of my good friend Melanie's lasted book release, Twitterpated. It's fun, it's spunky, it's a quick read you're sure to enjoy. And if you win... it's free! So here's the link if you missed it:

Win a copy of Twitterpated, by Melanie Jacobson

Win a copy of Twitterpated, by Melanie Jacobson

2012-03-29T13:41:00.000-04:00

So, I have this friend that writes books. Her name is Melanie Jacobson, and by all that I can gather from our delightful, but limited online only friendship (she lives in California, see, sorta far from North Carolina) she is one of the most productive authors I know. She's currently celebrating the release of her third novel, an impressive feat considering her many other responsibilities as a Mom and wife and normal person that has to do things like eat and shower. Whatever her secret, she's managed to turn out another novel that is sure to delight her fans.

Melanie is funny. She is entertaining. She is witty. These qualities? They definitely show through in her books. Her most recent novel, Twitterpated, was actually the first one she wrote, even though it was the third one her publishing company (which also happens to be my publishing company) released. That knowledge shouldn't diminish your expectations though. It's a book just as good as her first two and one that I think you will enjoy reading.

A little more info? Twitterpated is LDS Romantic Fiction. I consider Melanie's books dessert books. And I mean that in a most complimentary way. Good dessert is light, fluffy, and satisfying, and it makes you happy while your eating it. Likewise, Twitterpated is light, fluffy and satisfying and will make you happy while you read it. (Don't try and eat it though. That would be dumb.) I don't think that people should only read dessert books. Sometimes, it's good to venture into soul gripping, heart wrenching territory. But we all have moments when we want nothing more than to relax and indulge. Melanie's books are perfect for that.

Here's what you'll learn if you read the back cover:

Jessie Taylor is furious when her roommate secretly posts her picture on the dating website LDS Lookup — furious, that is, until she spends all night instant messaging Ben Bratton. Their first date is a smashing success (literally), but Ben’s overall awesomeness can’t save Jessie from having to deal with Craig, her competitive coworker. Jessie spends long office hours finishing projects and putting out fires, but while her performance wows her boss, it only makes Ben skittish— after a failed engagement to an up-and-coming lawyer, he’s not about to pair up with someone who’s married to her job. Will Jessie figure out how to be true to herself and take her big chance at love before it’s gone with a click of the mouse?

Intrigued yet? You can read the first chapter of the book, by clicking on this link:

First Chapter of Twitterpated

Or, you can go ahead and buy the book by clicking on these links:

Paperback copy of Twitterpated

Digital Copy of Twitterpated from Amazon

Or, the best option yet, simply leave a comment on this post, either via the facebook comment form below, or via the standard blogger comment form just below that--whatever makes you happy. By leaving a comment, you'll be entered to win your very own copy of Twitterpated. If your comment is extra nice, I may even convince Melanie to sign it for you. So. Read. Comment. Be happy.

Nesting

2012-03-28T00:29:00.001-04:00

It isn't just an old wives tale. I really truly believe there is something that takes over your body in the last few weeks of pregnancy and gives you the motivation to find energy somewhere, even if just in your big toe so you can do ridiculous things like shampoo your carpet and clean the sticky out of the cup holders in the back of your minivan.

It doesn't technically make sense. It will be months before my baby ever comes in contact with the carpet in the playroom upstairs, at least a year before he has anything to do with the cup holders in the van. And yet, somehow it feels wrong to think about bringing home something new and clean and perfect to a house that isn't. It isn't just about the baby though. I do things also because I know that once baby is born, it will be months before I think about doing them again. Best to get them out of the way while I can.

Just two weeks now. Generally, all is ready. The car seat needs to be installed and a few more meals need to be stashed in my freezer. I'm cooking double all this week, feeding the family and filling the freezer at the same time. Baby boy is active as ever, bruising my ribs and reminding me that no matter how claustrophobic I feel, in a body that doesn't let me do as much as I generally do, he's feeling pretty squashed too. At least I know we are in it together. Me, and this baby we've called Charlie the entire pregnancy, only for him to have a massive identity crisis in the last few weeks. I don't know who he is now. I'm hoping he'll be born with a name tag. On our way out of the grocery store today, Henry suggested that we each just call the baby whatever name we like best until he gets old enough to choose his favorite. Then he can pick his own name. Practical solution, no?

Whatever his name, the entire family is anxiously awaiting his arrival. But probably me the most.

********
Thanks to all who entered the Kristian Regale giveaway. The winner, selected by Rafflecopter with the help of the lovely random.org, was Jennifer H. Jennifer, I've sent you an email. The quicker you respond, the quicker you'll get your prize!

A Sparkly Giveaway... That you Drink!

2012-03-19T22:17:00.000-04:00

I had a conversation with my sister the other day about why it is that she and I like to drink Coke or other various carbonated beverages. (Except now... 12 thousand months pregnant, I CAN'T drink Coke because even drinking water gives me heartburn. Tragic. I know.) One might argue that I have a full on addiction, to which I would say addiction does not equal drinking 12 or so ounces a couple of times a week. Just because I get giddy and my eyes roll back in my head and I LOVE every drop of that 12 ounces, I'm not addicted. Right? (Seriously. Right?)

For me, it isn't about the caffeine. I can drink a decaffeinated beverage and be just as satisfied. It also isn't about the sugar. Lemonade is just as sweet and yet, it doesn't scratch the itch, if you know what I mean. Want to know what it is about? It's about the bubbles. Carbonation makes me happy. (Pretty sure I have NEVER written that sentence before now. It felt kinda fun.)

Because I like carbonated beverages so very much, I was excited to partner up with Kristian Regale, a maker of fabulously delicious nonalcoholic sparkling beverages. I've had sparkling grape juice before, but never Kristian Regale. I kinda live in a small town, see? I haven't been exposed to the many wonders that exist outside of teeny tiny small town grocery stores. Most happily so, Kristian Regale is available for purchase on Amazon. Me and Amazon? We get along pretty good.

So, Kristian Regale sent me a box of six different delicious flavors to try. My kids think a package arriving in the mail is just as exciting as Christmas morning. This often leads to disappointed children. (Yay! Mom bought... heartworm medicine for the dog? That's it?) But opening my box from Kristian Regale? It was exciting for real.

We tried the Lingonberry Apple first. I'm pretty sure it's my favorite. But the Pear is also delicious and the Peach is outstanding, and can we talk about the Black Current for a moment? Really you should just try some. The great thing about these beverages is that they aren't overly sweet. They feel more sophisticated--more focused on flavor instead of just overpowering everything with copious quantities of sugar that mask how the fruit really tastes.

They were delicious. Which is why I want YOU to try some. Kristian Regale has graciously agreed to send one of you, my fine readers of Mommy Snark, your very own box containing six, count them, SIX full size bottles of their sparkling beverage. How fun is that? All you have to do is complete one (or all) of the tasks listed below in the little widget thing that's supposed to make things like this easier. (Here's how it works... you log in using facebook or your email. This is only so I have a way to contact you if you win. It gives you a list of tasks to do. You pick which ones you want to do, do them, then click the enter button to record that you did. Make sense? You don't have to tell me which things you did. It records all of that for you. Easier for everyone. I hope.) If you don't want to comment on blogger, there are ways to enter via facebook, or twitter. Hopefully, there's something there to suit each of you. Feel free to participate as much or as little as you like. But doing more makes it more likely for you to win. So. Ready, set, GO!

A few things you must know: No monetary compensation was or will be received for this post. The only thing I enjoyed was a sample of free product to try so I could tell you how I liked it. Plus, I get to enjoy the fun of passing some on to one of you. That's probably the best part. Because Kristian Regale is only distributed in the U.S., the giveaway is only open to residents of the U.S.

Also... you'll notice you can gain a few extra entries for donating a few extra dollars to an organization called Rising Star Outreach. If you'd like to learn more about Mommy Snark's sponsorship of Chanduru through Rising Star Outreach, you can read about it by clicking on this link:

Mommy Snark and Rising Star Outreach.

Donations are tax deductible and perfectly safe. I use the donation page linked to Mommy Snark every single month. I promise it's completely legit. Money donated goes straight to the children of Rising Star. It isn't used for overhead. It isn't used for soliciting further donations from mail to the masses. This organization is real and good and worthy of attention. So says my heart.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

"I Don't Like it That People Have to Die"

2012-03-13T15:14:00.000-04:00

Last Saturday, my husband received a phone call asking if he could drive an hour to a hospital where a member of our local church, Susan, was ill. She was in need of a visit, of prayers and support. Could he help? Saturdays are valuable for Josh when it comes to spending time with the kids. He works long hours during the week, and cherishes his weekends when we can all be together. Not wanting to leave us all at home, we piled the kids in the car and went to the hospital together.

Ivy wasn't feeling well. We decided it was better not to overwhelm a very small hospital room with a lot of people, one of which was potentially contagious. Instead, I opted to stay in the car with the younger children while Josh went up to visit. After all, I had plans to return just a couple of days later and visit myself, when in town for a doctor's appointment. Josh stayed with Susan for nearly an hour. They talked. They prayed. Before leaving, he kissed her on the forehead and told her he loved her.

The next morning she passed away.

I don't write about it because all of you knew my friend Susan. I write because somehow, it feels wrong not to--not to mention her in someway. She was a remarkable woman - funny and spunky, gentle and so very loving. There was an ease about her that made her easy to talk to, easy to enjoy. Widowed early in life, Susan didn't have any children, or any family close by. In many ways, her friends and fellow church members were her family.

I've spent a lot of the past few days wondering if we did enough, and feeling sadness over the what if's and the whys that flood our hearts after sadness. Why didn't I just run up to see her while we were there? Did she know that we loved her? Did we do enough to show her how much we all cared? Susan was alone when she died - a thought that plagues me most of all. I have to remind myself that while I don't have a lot of experience with death, I've experienced enough to know that the veil is so very thin between this life and the next. Susan was surely surrounded and supported by heaven's angels.

When I tucked Lucy into bed last night, she said to me, "Mom, I don't like it that people have to die." I don't really like it either, but I'm grateful for the knowledge that I have that makes it easier to understand.

I know that Susan will be missed. Those of us she left behind are better for having known her. But I also know that heaven got a little brighter when she arrived. And that's the thought I'll carry with me.

The Rest of the Photo Shoot

2012-03-02T10:54:00.000-05:00

So, I live in a pretty small town with limited options available for health care. For this reason, I drive an hour to a bigger town to see my OB-GYN. I know, an hour is sort of a long way to travel, but it's always been worth it for me. It's closer to where all of my family lives, which helps when it's baby time, and my doctor is absolutely fantastic. And, since I don't really EVER go into labor, there is little risk of baby coming before we actually arrive at the hospital.

One of the perks of making the trip is that my lovely friend Destinee lives just five short minutes away from my doctor's office. She is always willing to keep Henry and Ivy while I run up for my appointments. It's so convenient to leave them with her, and an absolute treat that I get to spend a few hours with her afterwards before making the trip back home. Last time I was there, I emailed her before hand and asked if she would snap a few quick photos to document my pregnancy. I have very few pictures of myself, pregnant. This being the last time around, I wanted to make sure I had a few good pictures - a way to remember that, WOW, my body can do hard stuff.

After my appointment that day, we talked and talked until suddenly, I was supposed to leave in just twenty minutes. Destinee hurriedly moved her kitchen table into the living room so we could take advantage of the light in her kitchen, then she took a few pictures. It was fast, it was easy, and then I was out the door to race back home in time to pick my kids up from school.

With so little prep time, working in the corner of her own kitchen, I'm amazed at what Destinee was able to do. I've already shared a couple of pictures from the shoot, but for posterity's sake, here they are, all together.

I'm just over 30 weeks in these pictures. I've grown a much bigger belly in the four weeks since then. I'll share another current update sometime soon. Five weeks from Tuesday is the big day... April 10th. (I know, I know. It's sort of cheating that it's planned, but if my body is going to insist on c-sections, then I should at least get the convenience of a nice and tidy schedule, yes?)

Thanks Destinee, for these beautiful photos. I would love you as a cherished friend even if you never picked up a camera, but oh, how wonderful for you to have a talent that you so readily share with others.

Nothing Much, and some Music I Love

2012-03-01T11:02:00.001-05:00

Some days, I have tons of energy. I am ready to conquer the world, write a novel, clean the entire house... and other days I feel like sitting. And so I do. Today is one of those sitting days. My gestating baby is BREAKING my ribs, expanding ever upward and making it hurt to do even simple tasks. You know, like breathing. It isn't bad all the time, even every day. But when it's bad, boy howdy, IT IS BAD.

My not gestating but still feels like a baby almost two year old? I think she knows something is up. She follows me around all day, begging to be held. She isn't whining or complaining about it, just sticking to me like glue. Every passing day makes it harder to lug her 26 lbs. around. So instead, I sit and let her crawl on me like a jungle gym. See? More sitting.

So, I pretty much live under a blog rock and have no idea what all this talk of Google friend connect disappearing is about. All I know is, Google is doing away with the service so if it's the one you use to stay connected with the blogging world, you might want to find another way to hang onto the ones you love? I don't know. I know that you can follow my blog through a variety of ways, all of which are described over in the sidebar. You can like Mommy Snark on Facebook, or subscribe via email updates, or add Mommy Snark to whatever feed reader you use, should you happen to use one at all. And that's all I know. Do you know more? Please tell me if you do.

(Heh. Ivy is sitting next to me, coloring in her coloring book, and I guess she just decided she needed a new one. She hopped out of her chair, patted me on the back, and said, "Mom. Be back back." I'm pretty sure this means "Mom, I'll be right back." Oh, how I love her little words.)

Want to know what album I just bought? This one:

William Joseph's New Album: Be Still

I'm pretty much in love with all of William Joseph's music. Josh and I went to see him in concert and, holy cow, was he fabulous. Do you know who he is? He's a pianist and composer that is so very gifted. Most of his music is original, but this album is a little different. It's a collection of sacred hymns simply arranged, but beautifully executed. The album includes a couple of his original compositions that I'm excited to hear as well. If you click on the above link, you can, in addition to buying the entire album, download a free song. It's an incredibly beautiful rendition of Come Thou Fount. The first time I heard it, I was feeling tired and a little worn down and it absolutely spoke peace and love directly into my soul. I'm not a big crier, but oh, how I cried as I listened to that song. So go listen, would you?

(And just for the record, I didn't get anything for telling you about the new album. Sometimes I just want to share things that I love. Nothing more.)

Grace in Parenting - Even When it Isn't Easy

2012-02-27T14:30:00.001-05:00

My oldest? He's almost 11. I think that makes him officially pre-pubescent, which I gotta tell you, scares me a little more than I expected it would. Last week was rough in more ways than one. I was feeling myself inch into a pretty bad place with Jordan. We weren't getting along, were spending a good deal of time bickering at one another, and I was spending a good deal of time venting over the things I simply couldn't believe my darling sweet boy had said.

Out loud! To my face!

Because that's the thing. He really is a darling sweet boy. This is a kid with a kind and generous heart, with a sensitive spirit and an honest, heartfelt desire to do good, to BE good. I know this about him. Which is why it has been so frustrating to stand and wonder what on earth actually happened to that kid - to the kid I thought I knew so well.

I called my mother this morning because if there is anyone in this world that knows a little something about the pre-pubescent/pubescent crowd, it's my Mom. She'll tell you she loved having teenagers - that raising her older children was a fabulous experience. As one of those older children, with a very clear memory of what I was like at times (I'll now accept my award for being the queen of sarcastic eye rolling) I know it wasn't because her children were always sunshine and roses.

So I vented and expressed frustration and finally sighed. "Is it just the age?" I asked wearily?

"Of course it is," she responded.

Through the course of our conversation, I realized there isn't a quick fix, because really, my kid isn't broken. He's a normal, growing boy that is dealing with hormones and impulse control and an entire raft of emotions that come when children start to grow up.

(And yes, I realize I'm standing at the beginning of a very long road, and that there are likely even more difficult times ahead. But you have to start somewhere, yes? Hopefully I'll be able to keep my perspective in check from the beginning.)

One of my parenting mantras when it comes to raising my little children is that it isn't personal. Kids don't make messes or crack laptop computer screens (happened this week, thank you so much my darling Ivy who thinks the power cord to my laptop is a jump rope) or whine when they are hungry because they like to make our lives difficult. They are simply little people with limited impulse control and a complete lack of perspective. It isn't a personal attack on our sanity or on our efforts to keep our houses clean or our lives in perfect order. It's simply a reflection of their limited understanding. Sometimes, they really don't know better. They really couldn't help it. They really don't understand. They are children.

What my mother reminded me this morning is that just because Jordan is old enough that the attacks feel a little more personal, a little more targeted, and a little more capable of hurting my feelings, he is no less deserving of the grace I so readily offer my little ones.

"Your ability to take it," my mother said, "is far greater than his ability to control himself."

And there it was--the truth that I needed to hear. (Thanks Mom.)

I don't have to let Jordan railroad me into the ground. He must be taught and reminded (over and over again) to be respectful, to work on managing his anger, to treat others (especially his Mamma) with kindness and love. (Fortunately for me, this is a subject my husband takes very, very seriously.) But I do have to remember that he is still a kid, with the unbelievably large task of growing up laid out before him. He still has so much to learn, so much growing up to do.

And so I must be patient. I must remember to give him grace, to love him in spite of the idiocy that often accompanies his age, and to see the boy on the inside - the kind, good, gentle boy that he is.

The Rules of Inheritance - A Book Review

2012-02-23T14:09:00.000-05:00

*This is a paid review for the Blogher Book Club, but the opinions expressed are completely my own.

There isn't really a road map for how we experience grief. We all come from different backgrounds, have different views and perspectives, different value systems, sets of beliefs. How could there be just one prescribed way a person might expect to deal with tragedy?

In her memoir, The Rules of Inheritance, Claire Bidwell Smith explores the journey that she went through in dealing with and finally accepting the loss of both of her parents to cancer when she was just 18, and then 25 years old.

This wasn't an easy book to read. Smith's writing is raw and compelling - her story agonizingly painful. And yet, I'm glad she had the courage to tell it. Though she does not hesitate to fully immerse her words in the struggles and pain that she dealt with for years, glimpses of hope, even joy filter through when you realize that Smith is now writing from the other side of her grief - as someone that has moved past anger and resentment to acceptance and peace.

This is not a "how-to" book. It's a memoir - a very personal, very real account of one individual's struggle with grief. But as the author notes in her concluding chapter, "Just saying the words "it's okay to feel sad" can elicit an enormous release of emotions from a grieving person, and with that release comes a touch of peace."

And that is what this book is really about - a statement that indeed, it is okay to feel sad, a willingness to accept the grief for what it is, and know that it is possible to move past it - even if it takes a decade of struggling to do so.

What you ought to know before reading this book:

- There is language that may, if you are sensitive to such things, assault your sensibilities. It is very authentic, and I feel a true reflection of the place the author found herself emotionally. But it's there, nonetheless, and is frequent enough there may be some that choose not to read because of it.

- There is alcohol, and there is sex. Nothing graphic, and nothing gratuitous, but a real and raw part of the narrative just the same.

- There is no mention of faith or religion, which, in a book that deals so heavily with death, may leave you feeling a bit hollow. For me, my faith is such an intricate part of who and what I am. It was hard to truly relate to a perspective that is void of those elements.

If you'd like to learn more about The Rules of Inheritance, click on the links below to join the BlogHer Book Discussion.

Blogher Book Club - The Rules of Inheritance

A (Really Long) Snapshot

2012-02-20T19:30:00.001-05:00

Life is busy, isn't it? Some days I feel as if I have loads to say and not a moment to say it, and others I feel as if I stare at a blank screen and simply think, "Well there ought to be something worth writing about..." Either way, the thing I love most about this blog is the opportunity it creates for me to read back and remember where we were a few years ago. And so, more for my benefit than anything else, a snapshot of life, as it is in January, 2012. (Pictures scattered through the post, so at least scroll through if you don't feel like reading a novel. Because this post? It sort of is one.)

So, here's the thing about this picture...

I felt pretty silly standing in my friend's

kitchen, posing with what feels like an

enormous belly. 32 weeks pregnant, one

doesn't necessarily feel like smiling for a

camera. But...it's amazing what a woman's body

can do. I wanted to capture that. And since my

friend Destinee is such an incredible photographer,

she managed, if even for just one afternoon, to

make me feel beautiful. I'd say every pregnant

woman deserves that. Funny though... Lucy just

came up to me, and said, "Mommy, you don't

really look like that." "Like what?!" I asked

defensively, as I readjusted my yoga pants and

straightened my frizzy ponytail. Heh.

Barring any unforeseen circumstances, 7 weeks from tomorrow, I'll deliver my sixth baby. My pregnancy has been normal, and much like the others. I'm growing more uncomfortable by the day, but feel blessed to be complication free. I'm willing to endure a few more weeks of wretched heartburn and cracking ribs if it means a baby at the end of it. We're still working on the logistics of where a sixth baby is going to sleep... he'll room in with Josh and I for as long as we can manage it, and then? We've already got three boys in one bedroom and two girls in the other. We've plans to finish out the basement and move the two oldest boys down there, but don't know exactly when the plan will actually become reality. But then, I'm not sure it actually matters. I have no idea how a baby will actually sleep with the noise and chaos of five other children surrounding him in the first place.

I'm still writing. I just turned over 90 pages of novel #2 to my sister and dear friend. The good news is they both like the story, said it has merit and would be well worth the effort to finish. It still needs work though. I haven't quite connected with my characters as well as I'd like and think I'm rushing their story a bit. My plan now is to back track, flesh out the story line and get to know my characters even more so that telling the rest of their story will be easier. The truth is, when you're deeply involved in the writing of a novel, you tend to think about your characters all the time. You dream conversations, you hear their voices in your head, you wonder how they would handle different circumstances, even if those circumstances don't have anything to do with your plot line. Your characters become your friends. I'm not there yet with this book. Growing an actual physical person, in real life, rather than just making them up in my head, is zapping a lot of my mental energy, I guess. I'm pressing forward though, and feel good about where I'm headed. My goal is to have something else to my publisher before book #1 hits the shelves.

To date, this is my favorite picture of my husband...

(another one of Destinee's) It makes me feel all gooey inside

and so excited to see him loving on another newborn in

the not so distant future.

Josh is working hard to support us all, something I am grateful for on a daily basis. I realize it's a tremendous blessing to have the opportunity to stay home with my kids. I hope he knows how much I value how hard he works. I can tell when he's had a hard day because he comes home and his ears are red. I assume it's his blood pressure from a high stress day, which just makes me even more grateful that he's able to hang up his work brain and dive into an often chaotic couple of hours with the kids before bedtime. He's planning for another triathlon this summer and has started training again. I'm jealous. A little. A couple of weeks after baby, we'll celebrate our 12th anniversary. I entertained us a great deal the other night by reading out loud some of my journal entries from our first year or two of marriage. Heh. We've come a long way in 12 years. I do not discount the sentiments expressed. They were real and sincere at the time. But on the other side of a decade, it's nice to look back and see how much we've learned and grown together. I hope it's an even richer experience to look back ten years from now.

The kids? Jordan is nearly 11, and thoroughly enjoying the fifth grade. This year, he is part of a pilot program at his school that selected 25 students and grouped them together for a classroom environment centered around project based, independent learning. He's definitely thriving and loves his teachers and classmates.

He and Sam are both playing community league basketball this season, which has Josh and I scratching our heads and wondering if community sports are actually worth the effort. Nearly five nights a week we are getting one or both boys to practices or games. The season is intense, but gratefully, it's not quite two months long and we're nearly to the end of it. Honestly though, I'm not sure we'll do it again. I could go into how I feel about America's fascination with organized sports for young children, but I'll save it for another post. For now, suffice it to say I'm not so sure playing basketball in the driveway with Dad isn't an acceptable alternative. Let's discuss this another time, shall we? I'd love to know your thoughts.

Sam... ha. What can I say about Sam? He's the most entertaining 8 year old I've ever met. He is witty and smart and so fun to be around. The kid never meets a stranger, and has been known to entertain basketball players on the opposing team with his stories... as they're running down the court. His mind is a constant flurry of activity - questions escaping his mouth quicker than you can find an answer for them. He is a constant delight - a never ending source of entertainment.

And then there is Lucy - daughter of my heart. I don't know where I'd be without her. Lucy is a workhorse. When she puts her mind to something, there is no way she won't accomplish it. She is spunky and tough, with enough confidence to join in on a basketball game in the driveway with her older brother and two of his middle school aged friends. Ivy looks to Lucy as a second Mom and Lucy eats it up. She happily volunteers, for a mere 50 cents an evening, to get Ivy and Henry ready for bed, bath time, pajamas, teeth brushed, she does it all. She is a born nurturer, and has a way of making the little ones feel comfortable and safe.

Lucy and Sam have been in the same school class this year for the first time. In a rare moment when Sam and I were riding in the car together, just the two of us, I asked him if he got to choose, if he would like to be in the same class with Lucy next year, or if he would enjoy it more if they were separated.

He immediately replied, "Definitely together."

I was surprised by his quick response. When I asked him why, he said, "I just like knowing that there is someone around that understand me, that knows how I think. It just feels better having her around."

Indeed. She has that affect on everyone.

Out for dinner for Sam and Lucy's eighth birthday. That's whipped cream all over their face... part of the special birthday treatment at the twins' favorite restaurant.

This boy? He knows how to do Sundays... though I'm pretty

sure we started the day with his shirt tucked in. Maybe we

made it through the first meeting before it was loose?

Probably not.

Henry? (I know! I have a lot of kids! I promise. Update almost done.)

Henry will be five a few weeks after baby is born. He is just as charming as ever, an easy going kid, with the sweetest nature. He makes my heart melt every time I look in his big brown eyes. He is the best Super Mario Galaxy player in our house, loves to play with his friends, and could survive on Nutella alone. If it didn't cost seven dollars a jar. He's starting school this fall, and more than all the others, I worry about how he'll handle it. He's always been a Momma's boy - and deals with a little bit of anxiety when it comes to new situations that don't readily involve me. He'll be okay though. He's a smart kid, already reading and will adapt well to the structure and routine of school. Or so I tell myself whenever I start to worry a little too much.

I realize she looks a little subdued here, while my

description of her is all sunshine and smiles... but it's

too pretty of a picture not to share. Of course...

another one by Destinee.

Ivy is the funniest, most entertaining baby I've ever met. She is talking like crazy, loves to eat oranges, and lives for the moment her father walks in the door everyday. She looks ups, greats him with a "Hi, Daddy!" that sounds like it ought to be coming from a kid much older than one who is not quite 2 years old. She loves the dog, though is quick to express outrage when he tries to lick her hands while she's eating. She is fiercely independent, wanting to do everything her own way and requires a kiss from every single member of our family, even the dog, before she goes to bed at night. When I change her diaper, and in a sing-song southern voice say, "Shoo-eey!" She responds with a just as southern "Weee - shoo!" And then I die a little from the cuteness.

The dog? He's my boyfriend. I let him sleep on my bed during the day. He guards the kids and eats the crumbs on the floor and generally brings joy and happiness to my life.

And that's where we're at, yo. I kinda feel like I just wrote you a really long Christmas letter. I love you extra if you made it all the way through.

Just for good measure, another picture only worth sharing because Sam's hair is totally awesome.

Mom - 100, Kids - ZERO

2012-01-19T14:30:00.001-05:00

Monday night, my kids were crowded together on the couch watching Phineas and Ferb on Netflix. I was in the kitchen getting dinner ready when I noticed the dishwasher was full and clean, and needed to be emptied. This is not my job. The kids unload the dishwasher. I don't really care which kid - usually they all work together, but sometimes they split their chores and two will do the dishwasher while the others will do something else. I don't much care about the how or who as long as they are all happy and the work is done.

So, wanting to get dishes out of the sink and off the counter to make my dinner prep easier, I called in to the kids and asked them to pause their show and come and unload the dishwasher. There are five of them (even Ivy helps) so we're talking a five minute break, IF they go slow. Not too much to ask, is it?

Apparently, it WAS too much to ask. My request was met with sarcasm and disdain as my sweet darling children reminded me that they'd already unloaded the dishwasher once earlier in the day. Did I really expect them to do it AGAIN?! Then, they turned back to their show and didn't move a muscle.

A little shocked, but mostly just annoyed, I didn't say another word. Ivy came to help me unload the dishwasher and we took care of it on our own.

Fifteen minutes later, the show was over and my kids crowded around the island in the kitchen and asked me what was for dinner. To their question, I smiled sweetly and replied,

"I'm sorry, I already fed you once today. Did you really expect me to feed you AGAIN?!"

And then I left the kitchen.

I wish I'd had a camera to capture the looks on their faces. They wanted to be mad, to scream and yell and wallow in the injustice of not being fed. But they knew they deserved it. They couldn't say a word.

I told the kids they were welcome to make themselves a sandwich and have a piece of fruit. Which they did.

I know I could have harped and urged and demanded they get up and unload the dishwasher when I asked. But what would that have taught them? That they only have to listen after Mom asks three times? I'm never one to turn down the opportunity for a good object lesson...

(cue evil, maniacal mother laughter here...)

Chocolate Chip Cookies that will CHANGE YOUR LIFE

2012-01-17T22:43:00.001-05:00

Know what I want you to do? I want you to forget everything you ever thought you knew about making chocolate chip cookies. Because oh my incredible bite of heaven, have I ever found the most fabulous recipe you will ever try, in your entire life. Please make these cookies. Make them today, right now.

Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies (or the ones that will change your life)

1 cup butter, softened
3/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup white sugar
1 small package instant vanilla pudding mix
2 eggs
1 Tablespoon vanilla
2 1/4 cups flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 cups semisweet chocolate chips
*Edited to add... I've made these cookies a few more times this week for various activities that required the bringing of sweets. Each time, I kept thinking that something was missing. And something was. They need salt. The last time I made them, I added 1/2 teaspoon, and it did wonderful things for the flavor of the cookie.

Preheat your oven for 350 degrees.

If you think about it, get out your butter and eggs an hour before you want to make cookies. If you can't wait that long, soften your butter, but don't let it melt. I soften mine by sticking it in the microwave, still wrapped in it's original paper for about 45 seconds at 30% power. Depending on your microwave, it might take a little longer, or a little less. Be cautious at first though, till you figure out what works for you. And please oh please, for all that is good and holy, use real butter for this recipe. Pretty please?

Beat your softened butter with your sugars until well mixed, then add your eggs (also better if room temperature, but don't stress if they aren't. Your cookies will still be good.) your vanilla (yes, an entire tablespoon, and again, if you can swing it, use real vanilla too) and your vanilla pudding mix. Just pour the powder straight into your dough and blend it in. Don't make the pudding. Don't add extra moisture. Just trust this step. Powder pudding mix into the bowl. Then mix. In return, your cookie dough will love you forever and ever.

Add your baking soda to your flour, mixing it in, then add the dry ingredients slowly to your dough, mixing it all until it is too delicious for you to keep your hands away. Don't over mix though - just enough to blend it all together. (If you over beat your dough, it's quite possible your cookies might look like pancakes.) Fold in your chocolate chips, taste the batter, and then die a little. But wait! Don't eat too much, because seriously people, these cookies are so fabulous baked, you don't want to get so full you can't enjoy them.

Scoop your dough in heaping spoonfuls onto your cookie sheet. (Extra fabulous baking happens if you're using a Silpat. Silpats make good cookies. Silpats make people who don't think they can make good cookies, make good cookies. They are also incredible for making toffee. They will make your kitchen and your cookies happy. They cost 16.99 on Amazon. They don't sell them in Target or Walmart but probably sell them at any specialty kitchen store. But they'll be more expensive then they are on Amazon. Amen.)

Bake your cookies for 10 minutes at 350 degrees.

When they come out of the oven, be patient. Let them sit for a few minutes, looking delicious and wonderful, untouched. This is important. They need to sit and finish baking on the hot cookie sheet and get nice and set before you try to move them to a cooling rack. When you can lift the cookie off the pan by the corner, and it doesn't fall apart, then it's ready to move.

Transfer to a cooling rack, or just eat them. Right there, standing in your kitchen, with a glass of milk ready to go. Make sure you save a couple though. You'll wake up the morning after you make them thinking about them and will absolutely want one (or seven) for breakfast.

A few Reminders

2012-01-13T11:21:00.001-05:00

So, my readership hasn't made any incredible leaps and bounds in numbers as of late. But just the same, there might be a few of you that would benefit from a little reminder tour of the goings on of Mommy Snark. Don't worry. There aren't many.

Just got this post card in the mail yesterday from Chanduru, the sweet boy in India that I sponsor through an organization called Rising Star Outreach. On the back, in his own lovely handwriting, the cards says,

Dear Jenny,

I am 8 years old, in UKG.(kindergarten) I like to play with the cars. I like green color. I like Tamil class. I love you so much.

Chanduru

(So, I had to look up Tamil to know what it is that he enjoys so much. It's a language spoken in India. Probably should have known that.)

At any rate, I consider it such a privilege to be involved in this little boy's life. My dream is to go to India one day - to spend a few weeks volunteering with Rising Star. They do so much good and have helped so many individuals through the years. I hope Chanduru is still there when I get to go. Did you know that you can help with Chanduru too? Sponsoring your own child is $30 a month, but Rising Star was wonderful enough to set up a donation page for Mommy Snark readers where they can donate a $1 or $2 (or even $100 if you want to. Whatever you can do - they love it all the same) for Chanduru any time. To those of you who have donated, thank you, thank you. This is a real organization with a real purpose and an amazing mission. Donations are used for the children - not for administrative overhead, or big fancy houses for those in charge - just for the kids.The link to the Mommy Snark donation page can be found on the referenced page below, or on my sidebar. Look for the picture of Chanduru, and the Rising Star logo.

Mommy Snark and Rising Star Outreach

Rising star Outreach

What else? Just below the Rising Star logo in the sidebar, you'll see a little tab that says Check this Out... the companies listed there like to support Rising Star as well. Whenever you purchase from Chunky Bling, for example, a great website that sells fabulous watches and such, they donate a portion of your purchase amount directly to Chanduru. Pretty exciting, yes? So, do check them out.

Also, if you have a business you'd like to promote on Mommy Snark, do please let me know. I don't take payment for advertising, but I would love to have you support Rising Star. And I like singing the praises of people I like. I'm sure we could work something out.

And now just a few more...

Do you have a question for a Mormon? I don't have all the answers, but I've learned a little over the past 30 years. I'm always happy to share what I know. Click on the button below to ask your own question, or simply read the questions and answers already there.

Have you read the Joyful Mothering Series? Click on the button below to find a list of posts that speak specifically on finding joy in the everyday of mothering.

It's been a while since I've done a Serviceman Sunday post, but that doesn't mean the older ones aren't worth reviewing. Click on this button to learn what Serviceman Sunday is, and read about the featured families. And of course, if you know of a military family that deserves to be featured, click on the contact me button up above and let me know!

And finally... I occasionally facebook and twitter. If you'd like to find me on either site there are links in the sidebar to do so. Wait... I'm not actually finished.

My favorite posts are here.

My favorite cookie recipes are here.

My journey to publication (A Book! Coming out next year!) is here.

And now I'm done. For real.

Little Things that Make me Happy

2012-01-11T18:16:00.000-05:00

This afternoon, I was sitting in my car waiting for Henry to finish up in the bathroom so we could head out to pick kids up from school. The front door was still open, so my dog ran straight down the porch steps and jumped into the car, sitting down in between the captains chairs like there was nowhere else on earth that he belonged. He looked at me with this look on his face that just said, "What? You don't want me to come?" So of course, he came with us to make the rounds and retrieve the children from their respective schools. He's a good dog. Just the other day he jumped on the couch beside me, on a space that couldn't have been more than eighteen inches wide, draped one leg over my shoulder and the other across my pregnant belly. And again... the look. "What? This isn't comfortable for you?" Of course I'm comfortable! It's perfectly normal for fifty pound black labs to be lap dogs.

********

Want to know what I'm wearing on my feet? Big fuzzy boots. I got them for Christmas, and you know what? I love them. The exciting thing about the boots is that in order to wear them, I mean REALLY wear them, I had to buy some skinny jeans. I've shied away from the style in the past because, hello, my legs aren't exactly skinny, but these boots, people, they are so soft and wonderful and warm and I NEEDED to wear them. And so I am. And I am happy doing so. Chubby knees and all.

********

Can we talk about something important for a moment? I'm currently enrolled in a class on writing narrative biographies. It's been a great opportunity to do some extensive research about my own family. For one assignment, I recorded an oral interview with each of my parents, asking them questions about their childhood homes and the role that faith played in the way they were raised. Now, I'm pretty close to my parents. I thought I knew a great deal about their lives, but oh, what an incredible experience it was to hear them speak of their parents, and the experiences that contributed to the kind of people that they are today. I've also called and had several conversations with extended family members, with very specific questions about their families. Overwhelmingly so, I have realized that my family? These are my people. I've heard stories about my great grandmother, someone I never knew personally, that remind me so much of my grandfather, who I did know, and that explain a great deal of why my Mom is who and what she is. I've heard my father tell me stories that came from his father that so clearly indicate why my father grew up to be such an incredible man. Finding the common threads that weave our families together can be such a rewarding experience.

My Mom and Dad. Lovely, aren't they?

If you haven't lately, be sure to ask questions. Often, when my conversations would begin, the person I was interviewing would say, "Oh, I don't remember much" but then, the more we spoke, the more they were able to recall. And specific questions were able to prompt stories and experiences that might not have been recalled otherwise. So. Get out your cell phone (most are equipped with some sort of digital recorder), get out some paper for note taking and ASK questions to the people that matter. Find your people, then find out what makes them your people. Not just your relatives, but your people - the ones who are a part of who you are.You won't be sorry you did. I promise.

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Want to know what I'm excited about? I'm 85 pages into my second novel and it's making me really happy. The story is taking shape in a way that has me itching to write every spare moment that I've got. I've been struggling to find my footing with this one. Pregnant brain, I think, but I've found my groove and now the words are coming. So, yay for that.

********

Okay, just one more. My baby? The baby that will only be my baby for three more months? She's finally figured out how to say the V in her own name. She has successfully graduated from "I-eeee" to "I-beee" to an officially correct "I-VEEEE!" It's the most adorable thing ever. She also says, "Oh, no, no, no, no, no" when you ask her to do something that she doesn't want to do.

"Ivy, are you ready to go to bed?"

"OH, no, no, no, no, no!!"

She's so flippin cute. She also has to kiss every single person in our family good night, every single time she goes to bed. If we forget and head upstairs without her kisses, she says, "I kiss eh-body!" And to think, some people might argue kids in big families get less love.

********

26 Weeks. Yes, Yes, I know I'm blurry.
But Lucy took the picture, with my cell
phone no less. I'm not so blurry you can't
see the belly though, no?

Okay, maybe just one more little one. My baby? The one still incubating? He gets hiccups all the time. It always makes me smile, as does the amount of time my children spend touching my tummy, begging baby Charlie to move. I hear the question at least ten times a day.

"Is Charlie kicking?"

And this little boy - he doesn't disappoint. He's a kicker, this one. A kicker that already responds to the sounds of his siblings voices. It makes my heart happy to see them excited about his approaching arrival. You know, we get a lot of complaining about shared bedrooms and crowded cars and busy schedules, but really, truly, I believe my children when they tell me they wouldn't trade it.

Because we're people, see? We're in it for each other, through thick and thin. And that pretty much rocks.