Play-group

This is play-group. Eight of the cutest little girls ever! Their favorite part of play-group is when I put down all of the seats in the car, roll down the windows and we blast the i-tunes on the way to school.

All Done!

Question:

Does anyone out there have a favorite digital scrapbook software they love?  And where do you print?  I want to be able to print the pages and put in a traditional scrapbook.

Trick or Treat

Cousin Adam, Master, Sport

Friend Zoe and Princess Pie as a Roaring 20's flapper girl

Nana's Halloween party

It was divine as usual!!1 Check out those sparkle pumpkins!
Thanks mom!

Halloween parade

Halloween prep

UEA

Bubba in training

Princess Pie in training

Love this time of year at Bear Lake, everything looks like it's been lightly toasted

Bubba in training

Bubba having a deep conversation with Shmuffy

I'm considering changing his name from Sport to Safety.  This helmet has been everywhere with us lately

End of the Season

It was a great year with a great team.  Good job Master! 8-1

Dennis the Menace drives away...

This child might need a new blogger name.  Instead of Bubba he might become Dennis.  As in Dennis the Menace.  The other day I couldn't find him and saw the garage door was ajar, he had snuck out, grabbed his sisters helmet, and was clearly ready to go.
Indy has been out of town for 2 days.  Early this morning Master started puking about 2am, Sport crawled into bed with me about 4am and at 6am everyone was up and ready to go.  WHY oh WHy could God not send me children who like to sleep in?
Rough morning getting everyone out the door, 45 minutes later the school calls and Sport is crying and won't stop.  His bum is on fire (remember the no colon thing...anytime he gets a stomach bug it plays havoc with his colon; imagine having burning diareah).  I spent the day changing, bathing or cleaning poop.  Meanwhile this is what Dennis was up to:
He figured out how to pump the conditioner bottle in the shower and smeared his head and all of his clothes in conditioner.
He emptied the Halloween container up and down the stairs and had the nerds open and spread out.
He threw my open protein bar into Sports poopy bathwater
He took apart his hamburger bit by bit in the car as we were driving.
He threw all of Sports clothes into the poopy bathwater
He found took fishy crackers from Sport and was spreading them behind me as I was vacuuming
We ended the day with him trying to empty the dishwasher faster then I was loading it.
You would think I'm not a watchful mother; but I am, and I had my hands full with Sport and I'm telling you this kid is fast!
Bless me and save me.
Good thing he is cute.

From the Car to the Elevator

When Sport was 2 days old his bowel perforated; he was septic and we almost lost him.  He came through surgery and his little 7lb body was fighting an uphill battle.  It was my shift at the hospital; I had been talking to my very good friend as I parked the car in the parking structure next to the hospital.  My friend had a normal healthy baby boy about 10 days before Sport was born.  She had just discovered her baby had a heart condition and as we were discussing it she said, "oh it's nothing compared to what you're going through right now".  I jokingly said, "glad I could be here for you".  I was sincerely happy the condition she was dealing with was not life threatening and her baby would be fine.  My baby I wasn't so sure. 
My heart was very heavy as I headed into the hospital and I wasn't loving the fact that my situation was providing perspective for someone else.  I boarded the elevator and there was another couple headed up to the NICU I had seen them before and so I asked (dumb me) "how is your baby doing?"
"He is dying; they think we only have a couple of days with him"
My heart bottomed out; what do you say to that?
I said, "I am so sorry"
To this day I can still see the agony and pain on their faces and it brings tears to my eyes.

So much for perspective, obviously I didn't have it as bad as I thought I did.  My baby was still hooked to what seemed like a thousand monitors and tubes, I couldn't hold him, I couldn't feed him but I knew he was going to make it.

This past Sunday morning Indy left for the airport about 5am.  About 7am I woke up to Sport's feet in my back pushing me off the bed...and I could smell it...as I looked around he had a poop blow out that basically covered (as he rolled around) every pillow-case, bottom sheet, top sheet, comforter, and himself.  I didn't know where to start.  It is what it is; that's what happens when you don't have a large colon.  I couldn't get mad and I couldn't fix it because they don't sell colons at Walmart or on Ebay.  Bubba was awake and crying, Sport had to be cleaned up and it was Sunday, with Indy out of town that meant me and 4 kids in Sacrament by myself.  I can do this, I can do this and I did...except..

Introducing Sister Stress.  Keep in mind Sacrament had not been a high point, the main text of the meeting was how we should never wear jeans in the chapel or bishops office and teach our children reverence during Sacrament. Ok, super duper! ... I was walking back after Sunday School and Sport was sitting in the hallway (obviously not in primary) refusing to move.  I got him up and we were waiting for sharing time to finish.  Sister S. walks up; the long and the short of it was, her daugher that is Sport's age has some learning disabilites.  She spent the entire Summer stressed out about the possibility of her daughter being even 'mildly retarted' and couldn't stand the thought of her being in a class like Sports at school.  And she told me it would just be so much easier if her daughter had Down Syndrome.  I wasn't sure what to say.  I'm still not sure what I should even think.  I'm not offended; I get that this lady is stressed and sincerely trying to do the best for her daughter, but I really really wanted her to go and take an elevator ride at the Childrens Hospital.
If I could rewind time I would say:
Dear Sister S.
I know this is hard but
Stop and RELAX...You are doing a great job with your daughter
You may think someone else has it easier but you are WRONG and even if they did, it doesn't matter anyway
 Love and DISCOVER your daughter for who she is AND not who you think she should become.
AND last CHERISH every breathing moment you have with her
even the hard ones.