Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Please tell me it's not just me! I've come to dread Sunday mornings. It's the most awefull, painful and agonizing time of my whole week! I swear we'd stop going to church if I didn't need the chance to repent of all my sins so much. Jay's got 7 AM meetings so he's long gone and not handy when I'm trying to get myself ready (A major feat, let me tell you. Like trying to get this 3-baby-bearing, C-section-scarred, jiggly goo of a gut restrained in pantyhose or my whole-body girdle. Makes me shudder even now.) as well as three monkeys! It's like herding cats, I tell ya.

Parker whining "I don't want to go to church" and staring blankly at his toast. Eat it already! And then wrestling Merritt into her dress--I'm literally down on the floor, holding her down and doing up snaps, buttons, zippers and then shoving her feet into the socks and shoes. "You WILL wear this adorable dress and matching hair bow and you'll be beautiful while you're at it! NO, don't lay down or sit on the couch or roll all around on the floor. You'll wrinkle!" And of course, by now my hair has dried with spikes on the left and limp lumps on the right and then Spencer starts crying. Great! Now I've got to nurse him, make sure I'm not leaking like a faucet, dress him--"Please don't spit up, please don't spit up, please--Dang it! You've spit up all over your adorable romper and cute shoes! Well, you'll just have to look stained and stink like curdled cheese 'cause we're late."

And so I slap some makeup on (Yes, my face does intentionally look like war paint,) slip on my "Mom" church shoes (When did I get so old that I've started picking dressy shoes based on comfort and not style?), strap everyone in (after chasing Merritt around the van 3 times,) back out and hit the truck parked opposite my driveway. "Oh well, I'm in a hurry and any fool would know not to park directly across from a driveway and it's only a little scratch and a ding and a...anyway, I'm leaving." And I floor it.

I kid you not about the dented truck. And this Sunday, during the Indy 500 to church ("We're getting there in time for the sacrament, by golly.") Parker asked me, "Mom, is it fast Sunday?" (Note to self: have a FHE about fasting.) "No, honey, it's not fast Sunday." Before I could launch into a hurried explanation of fasting, while watching out for cops and yellow lights, he said "Then why do you have to drive so fast?"

Hmm, good question. Isn't the point of going to church to feel peaceful and open to the Spirit? How come someone's always crying on the way to church and most likely it's me? Yeah, we might make it in time for the sacrament, slipping in during the last verse of the sacrament hymn, but am I spiritually ready for it? We're all grumpy, with hurt feelings and we're supposed to be ready to be spiritually fed.

So I'm changing my ways (I mean it this time.) I think it's more important that we get to church in an attitude of reverence and peace than make it on time. So we'll drive at a legal pace, cross my fingers that the hymns are long and pray that Jay gets a new calling.

The end.

Go for the Gold, Baby!

OK, call me shallow, judgmental, superficial--I'll do it. I'm shallow, judgmental and superficial but I have an issue with Michael Phelps. It's great that he's won 15 gold medals--wowza! My problem is his head.

Specifically his ears and teeth! The rest of his body: great. But his ears stick out goofily (is that a word?) and it seems-especially when he talks-as if he has way more teeth than will fit comfortably in his mouth. Now I realize he doesn't care one whit what a chumpy (combination of frumpy and chubby) mom like me thinks, but I still think he looks a bit odd. So that's it. Call me un-American if you must.

My Dad

Have you ever hurt yourself bad before? Like really, really stub your toe or break an arm or even have two C-sections to bring new, scrawny beings into the world? And the pain is so sharp and deep that it steals your breath and you gasp at the shock to your body, how unexpected it is. I mean all you were doing was making the bed or trying to rescue a kitten or fulfill the commandment to go forth and multiply. And then WHACK! You're stumbling, coughing, trying not to lose it and cry like your toddler.

No phone call in the middle of the night is good. Well, it was 6 AM, but I was deep asleep and knew instantly it wasn't good. Mom said "I think Daddy's dead." WHAT? "I think your dad just died." And the denial, packing quick, waking up sleeping babies and the anxious hour-long drive. No, it can't be. And then the call on the road--yep, he's gone. Don't bother going to the hospital, just come straight to Mom's house.

My dad died suddenly on May 30th, 2007. He'd been suffering from a muscle disease and couldn't walk well or hold things well and steps were virtually impossible. But despite the mobility issues, he was in good health. Then he gets up one morning, talking to Mom and he's gone. The doctor signed off as a heart attack, but I truly think it was a blood clot since he got such little exercise and movement.

Man, life is so hard sometimes! It's been a rough year on all of us, especially my mom. The weekends are the worst and she's usually at either my house or my sister's. It's just too quiet and empty at home. She's said that this second year is harder than the first year, and she's right. Sometimes, when I'm in the middle of changing a diaper or wiping a dirty face or tickling a chubby tummy, I think of him and just lose my breath. I miss him.

But I know, without a doubt, that he's in a better place. He can walk freely and feels good. And although it's sad that Parker said he can't remember what Bowen looks like and Merritt won't remember him and Spencer won't even know him, we'll all be reunited one day. And we'll run to each other and hug and talk about all the things that have happened since we were last together. And we'll rejoice that we all made it.

With Spencer being a scheduled c-section, I got to pretty much pick a date. So Spencer was born on my dad's birthday, April 30th, as a gift and tribute to him. And Spencer has Dad's middle name: Thomas.

We love you, Dad. And we miss you a lot.

Hello? Hello, McFly?

So am I the only one on the planet that hasn't read Stephanie Meyer's books? Honestly, I'm freaked out by the whole vampire thing and just can't read them. I guess I must be missing out, especially on the hoopla for Breaking Dawn.

I'm Never Satisfied

So in browsing other blogs of my peeps, I'm thinking our blog ain't so cute. And here I spent hours playing with it, putting up my background and playing with the banner and colors. And feeling cool 'cause I know a bit about HTML. Now I'm not so sure. I'm looking here and here to maybe find a cooler background.

Hmm...wonder why our cool-o signature isn't showing up below?

Fancy Up Your Blog

So I spent waaay too much time this afternoon playing with our blog. If you're interested, here's the blog where I got the instructions, and she's LDS too:

Chocolate On My Cranium

First One!

So this is the first post on our new blog. I thought we'd join the revolution and share photos and info about our family that maybe someone might want to see, especially grandparents. Until I can get the kids in bed and upload pictures from our "vacation" and Merritt's birthday, here's the pictures from Spencer's blessing. First photo is my family.

Back row from the left: my brother-in-law Matt, my sister Jessica, niece Sarah (12) holding Spencer (2 mos), my mom Terri, me and Jay. Front row from the left: nephew Drew (7), nephew Jackson (4), son Parker (5), nephew Sawyer (10) and daughter Merritt (3).

And now Jay's family.

Back row from left: Jay's brother-in-law Trevor, Jay's sister Joy, Jay, Me holding Spencer, niece Brooke (13), brother-in-law Jason, nephew McKay (10) and Jay's sister Trina. Front row from left: nephew Nick (5), nephew Ben (3), niece Emily (3 mos) and daughter Merritt. My son Parker is behind Emily and under my elbow.

More pictures soon! We hope everyone is well and happy.