Sleep, please, just sleep!

There has got to be a better sleep solution. I can get the girls to all go to sleep in their own beds, but am fighting a losing battle around midnight. Two of the girls continue to wake around that time and wander into our bed... Eva every night, and Eli sometimes. It's really not a problem, unless they both decide to come in on the same night. Then they spend the entire time pushing and shoving each other, and arguing with each other. I cannot sleep in these circumstances. Let me repeat that, although what good it will do I don't know, since they are my non-readers and will not read this anytime soon! But I repeat...I cannot sleep in these circumstances! It leaves me cranky and without the small amount of energy that I would typically have, which is barely enough to function as it is. I have tried putting them back in their beds, but that ends in hours of crying and drama that ends up waking the rest of the house. I know this is a common occurance in many homes, but don't want it to be one in mine any more! On a good night's sleep for me all I want to do in the morning is stay in my jammies and lay on the couch. And now that's REALLY all I want to do today. Not gonna work, girls. It's just not gonna work. Hmmmm.

I Did That On Purpose

I may or may not have posted this picture in a previous blog...I can't remember. But as I'm sitting here watching Boo roam the floor like my pet dog used to do, the rationale seemed perfect. I INTENTIONALLY left those lunch crumbs on the floor so that I could help Boo develop those motor skills. There was one slight miscalculation on my part. Her sisters are artists in training and are focusing their artist's madness through Play Dough this afternoon. I forgot how easily a piece of playdough imitates a tasty lunch crumb. Boo let me know which one she'd found...

Sorry for the impulsivness...

So, I realize my extremely impulsive nature...it's a new part of my grieving personality. When I posted last I was in quite a funk. Tuesday I was able to go and finally pick up the completed Death Certificate, and it threw me something terrible. I'll write more details about that soon. But as a result I was feeling so cynical in nature. Here I am, all alone, raising these 6 girlies of mine. I felt overwhelming gloomy at the prospect of raising them up to what? The possibility of something crappy like what's happened to me possibly happening to them? The possibility of trying throughout their youth to make responsible and righteous decisions to only have their reward taken so unexpectedly? Do I really want to give them the hope of seeking for love in a best friend and companion with the absolute possibility that they may very well only have it for 15 years or even less of their mortality? I realize that I am who I am because I love my Naki, my Baby and best friend ever and that the words of my last post are completely opposite of that love. I felt only partly alive until I met him and was taught by him what it really means to live and love. And now I have these girls that I get to pass that love on to. So yes, I realize that I am once again contradicting myself. But in that moment I wasn't sure whether or not I wanted the girls to experience loving and losing as I have. It seemed somewhat safer to perhaps never to have loved. Anyone who knows me knows that I am so not a risk taker. Had I known that this would be happening to me it's extremely likely that I wouldn't have been willing to jump into this insanity on March 27, 1999. But I didn't know, for an obvious wise purpose, and find myself trying to kick my feet and keep my head above the water and not drown.

I have so many things running around in my head and my soul that I want to write down before I forget. I can't even figure out where to start, and quite frankly the procrastinator in me is getting the best of me this evening. I know the time it will take and don't feel like sitting and typing for that long. So instead, I'll simplify for tonight and just say that I'm working on a new persepective today, and it is all thanks to my dear Sister who followed a prompting she received to give me a book she'd read years...and years...ago. (That's a 'getting old' joke Sis, in case you didn't catch it...) The author of that book spoke to me and opened my heart to things I already know and believe, and more importantly to me it opened my heart to the realization that I will come out on the other side of this better, stronger, smarter, wiser, more faithful, more prayerful, more patient, and yes, more beautiful. Okay, maybe not more beautiful, but I was just checking to see if any of you that are reading this were paying attention... I started and finished it all last night, Thursday, and it couldn't have been timed better. Friday mornings are my designated temple morning, thanks to a dear friend who is willing to let me drop off all 6 girlies early in the morning at her house. She feeds them, sends some of them off to school across the street from her house, and then watches the remaining three until I return. I was primed and ready for some "spiritual radiation therapy"...that's a new term I picked up from the Temple President today, President Brown. After spending some time in the temple, I visited with him in his office. He was so generous to spend that time answering some of my questions. He mentioned an article he thought I may benefit from reading titled "Tragedy or Destiny?" written by Spencer W. Kimball. I admit I haven't read the whole thing yet, but was trying to read it amidst the chaos this afternoon. It has touched me. I have yet to process it completely and apply it, but I feel it's truth. He writes:

"I like also the words of these verses, the author of which I do not know:

Pain stayed so long I said to him today,
“I will not have you with me any more.”
I stamped my foot and said, “Be on your way,”
And paused there, startled at the look he wore.
“I, who have been your friend,” he said to me,
“I, who have been your teacher—all you know
Of understanding love, of sympathy,
And patience, I have taught you. Shall I go?”
He spoke the truth, this strange unwelcome guest;
I watched him leave, and knew that he was wise.
He left a heart grown tender in my breast,
He left a far, clear vision in my eyes.
I dried my tears, and lifted up a song --
Even for one who’d tortured me so long."

I'm far from happy or peaceful even. I felt it important to clear the air about my cynicism and to share the possibility that I may, I said may, be willing to dip my toe in the cold and unfamiliar waters of this new perspective about appreciating and grasping the purpose of my pain. I sense the new emotions that accompany this new perspective, and am unsure about where they will take me, but still feel hopeful. Anything, anything has to be better than what I've felt for the past week.

I want to throw several pictures on here...here are the pictures of the work on the toy room..trying to take pictures as they go.





















I am still putting the room back together and it's almost finished. I'll put a final photo up when it's all done.

This past Sunday Line officially baked the first dessert in our new oven(s). She was sweet enough to let the other girls "help" her...it gave her a bit of a taste of what it feels like to have little "helpers" in the kitchen. Yay for young apprentice bakers...all the more baking I don't have to do in the future.

Here is my Queen Bee...my spelling Bee. Line was lucky enough to participate in her school's spelling bee this year. She made until there were only 10 kids left on stage from the 4th, 5th, and 6th grades combined. She was frustrated by her misspelled word, but tells me as I'm typing this year that it was really fun and hopes to do better next year. I was so proud of her because she did all her practicing on her own, during recesses at school, and in the car as we drove around doing errands and such. I'm not so sure if it was more nerve racking for her or for all of us family watching her. Such an amazing little girlie.

Here are some of the cutest post-bath munchkins I've ever seen.







I received the sweetest compliment from a new dear friend. He asked me if I'd ever gone swimming in a lake before...not sure exactly where this was going, I answered "yes". He then explained how it feels cold as you swim around, but on occasion, you hit a warm patch of water. It feels relieving, comfortable, and ideal to stay there, and a bit of a shock to leave. He compared that warm patch of water to the way it feels whenever he enters our home. I feel compelled to believe him since he enters many homes for his profession and he has been here plenty over the last three months. What a relieving and reassuring feeling to know that even though it's been the worst and hardest past three months for all of my little family, and there's been more contention, impatience, and grief within the walls of our home than there's ever been, that the love and spirit that Naki and I worked so hard to provide as a refuge for each other still remains.

The Cynic, the new me.

I hate the new me, the Cynic.

" 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
-Lord Tennyson Alfred-

Hmmm. Not buyin that one anymore.

Different, Not Better

I'm reading a book about children and their greiving. I can't locate it at the moment, but something it said has stuck with me now for a couple of weeks. It was talking about the dangers of filling the void that whatever loss we're experiencing has brought into our lives. It stated quite simply that when we try to fill those voids it has the potential to make us feel different, not better. I have thought and thought on those two words...different and better. I know for sure that I have yet to feel "better", and quite frankly that seems an impossibility at any point in my mortal life. But I can see things I've been doing, thinking, or saying that make me feel different. Let's just say that I probably don't need to buy another pair of boots this winter season...they've done their duty in helping me feel different enough...*gulp* It can be a dangerous journey, trying to fill that never ending void. Naki and I used to watch a show together called "Intervention", about people addicted to various substances or behaviors who were experiencing an intervention orchestrated by those who loved them. Almost always those addicted were trying to feel different, and it never ended up feeling better. I try often to analyze myself to see which category the choices I make and actions I take fall under. Obviously, since I have yet to feel better, there are many things these days that make me feel different. My conscience limits my choices, since I refuse to take up drugs, sex, alcohol, pornography, serious shopping, serious eating, or any other difficult vices. But I have been known to watch late night movies which help me zombie out, play mindless games on my phone, read the world news over and over on the internet, watch the kids play games, get my nails done, get a pedicure, etc. I'm currently trying to figure out why when I feel sad, overwhelmed, empty, discouraged, outraged, or like escaping the impossible (my life) I reach for the leftover pizza, the icecream, the juice, and yes, the chocolate raisins, instead of doing 10 push ups or situps, or maybe even drink a tall glass of water? Or even better, pray and read my scriptures more? I think I've discovered that feeling bitter, angry, unsettled, and confused is something that I feel entitled to experiencing, and want to remain here feeling outraged and disenchanted with my life. Finding peace and serenity seems to be letting those at large a bit off the hook. I always thought the kids got their stubborn streak from their Dad, but that theory may need a bit revamping.

Seriously Lose?

What do you think is the psychobabble behind going to pick up one of your girlies from their primary class, only to find them redressing in front of their whole class? Two male teachers and all. Her head was stuck in her dress as she was putting it back on over her head. I am still so livid with her I just sent her to her room to stay for a while so I can think this one through. Her only redemption at this point was that she did have a white t shirt and white leggings, not tights, on underneath. But still. In her words, "But I was so so so so hot, Mom." It's in moments like these that I think to God with guilt ridden disrespect, Really? Couldn't I just have the normal parental challenges? Did I really have to work with grieving children, too? Especially when the way they act doesn't necessarily come across as "grieving", but everything else under the sun. Seriously. This is so dang hard.

What do you get when you have two sick kiddos for over a week, no gym time as a result, two containers of Costco chocolate covered raisins (approximately), and people cooking meals for you that are way too good to eat wise portions of? 3 almost 4 unwanted pounds...in a week. Apparently my solitude gym time was actually doing more than just giving me time alone. It was actually counteracting all the crap I've been feeding my emotions. Let's all pray for kiddos to get better so I can get back there soon. Notice I didn't say I would be not eating the raisins anymore...