Famo. Part one.

Last Friday (as in last, last. yes, yes, I'm up to date. always) I was talking to my Dad on the phone. He mentioned how he was going to have the house all to himself that weekend. I thought that was strange, but really, most my siblings are fairly transient anyway, so I blew it off.

Then, Chris and I tucked our cherubs into bed, and decided to not do the dishes. If you know Chris, that's huge. Instead, we got naked (just seeing if you're paying attention... no one really reads about family posts, right?). Wait. That didn't happen.

Someone knocked on our door. Honestly, my first thought was, "What? No one knows us!" HA! Just kidding.... maybe. But seriously. Or not.

Moving on.

And then Chris yells upstairs, "Hey, Jacob ran away from home." I instantly knew that my suspicions were correct! The transient children of Utah were here!! I ran downstairs and blew off Jacobs attempt to make us believe he was by himself, and that he actually ran away from home, and gave him a big bear hug. Then, I looked outside to see who he was with.

Low and behold, one by one, EACH AND EVERY SIBLING (ok... minus 4ish) materialized from around the corner. It was like a magic trick, where the magician pulls the scarfs out of his mouth and they keep coming, and coming, and coming.

I was stupefied!! One human would have been great. Two, even better. But they packed up their car with 6 of my favorite people.

And Chris was embarrassed he didn't get the dishes done. Naturally.

And I was just glad we had our clothes on. Naturally.

We missed you Doug, Nate, Sam, and Whit.

My computer imploded.

Ok, I really need to quit saying that. It didn't actually implode (that I know of). But, it was the strangest thing. Said computer was flipped open, music playing. I decided to look up a recipe online, and that's when it happened...

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid computer. Urgh.

It froze. And then turned off. You know that's never good. And each time I tried to turn it back on, the livelihood looked more and more bleak. You know, the whole blue screen, your life is ruined, type of situation? My brother Doug and I tried to give it one more shot, and then it made the sound of death, which is fairly similar to the sound of a 5 car pile up--- ALL INSIDE MY COMPUTER.

Ya. It was bad.

So, now it's sitting on my shelf, waiting for me to go to take it to the computer-hospital for repair. Anyone even know what you do with a stupid, broken computer? Where do you actually take something like that? I wonder how long it will sit there before I decide to actually do something about it... Wait.

So, as a good mother would do, I would like to give one last shout out to my first born.

Dear Dell:

You and I, we had a good run. You were our first big purchase as a married couple. The stork dropped you off on our front step in your of our little Orem apartment, on a day that hell froze over. That state is always so freezing cold, and you were the warmth of my heart. I'm actually not certain that it was even cold that day, at all, but for memories sake, we will say there was feet (multiple feet) of snow on the ground, because likely, there was. Ah hem. Excuse me.

I suppose that four years is a good run, but I expected a lot more out of you. Hugh crawled on you daily, and spit up on you often. J used you for dance-dance-revolution practice, and his personal punching bag when he wanted to watch a movie, and I said no. But really. You and I could have gone far. I had high hopes for us.

And now I hate you.

Give me back my pictures, and I won't through off the roof of our building.

But seriously.

Thanks.

Shining some light

Not to self: DO NOT PUSH ENTER WHEN CURSOR IS LOCATED IN THE TITLE BOX.

IT WILL PUBLISH.

Whoa, some heavy reading lately, eh? Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me? It's funny, because BOTH posts were not meant to be published... not yet, at least. I somehow managed to do the same thing (TWICE!) with both posts, and bada-bing-bada-boom, there they were.

And both times I actually gasped OUT LOUD. And I could take it back, sure, but with GoogleReader, there's no real sense in it, eh? What's done, is done.

And I'm a little embarrassed.

But, what's a girl to do?

Do you ever do that? Write posts, and then just let them sit, unpublished? I do. A lot. It's like certain subjects loom over my head until I get them out. If I don't get them out, they haunt me, and yell at me; making it impossible to complete any new subject matter.

Meh.

And most of those posts never get published; the loud ones, that demand my attention.

And those last two posts were majorly demanding attention.

Yikes.

Urgh. Now I just feel overwhelmed that they were published back to back.

Meh.

I suppose this is me. Un-edited.
As usual.

Welcome to the (private) ongoings in my brain.

I hope to make your stay a little more pleasant.

My limbo lessons

I have had a lot of people ask lately if I'm pregnant. Which I think is ironic. Because sometimes it physically hurts when I think about the potential that is so vague, I have to cut through the the thick air that tries to suffocate my lungs, to simply breath.

I find myself in a no-mans land; stuck in the middle of being hit with the woes of infertility, and having two beautiful babies of my own. No side wants to truly claim me as their own.

I got my two boys. And believe me, I couldn't be more thrilled. Ah, I love my children. I breath in the happiness that is them, and it warms my soul. They intoxicate me.

And that is the gift my broken body has given me: the gift to see the miracle in today. Every day.

Every morning I get my Hugh out of bed, and I look at his still oh-so-baby face, my heart swells. I hold my pride and joy in my lap, and pray that Heavenly Father will bless me with another. And I do so, as my baby (my BABY!!) grows and grows; time doesn't care to slow down for infancy.

So, as I realize that now will be then quicker than I can tolerate, I hold my babies.
And I do, I soak them in.
Every day.

I suppose that is worth it.

And as I hold J, and realize that his dimpled hands are turning into hands of a little boy, infant no more, I'm grateful that I am his mother. I'm grateful he came to me. I'm grateful that he somehow arrived safely into my arms.

Instead of longing for what I don't have, and a very uncertain future, I drown myself in the gratitude for what is mine.

And my boys?

They are all mine.

For the record

Do you have to do as much damage control on your blog as I do?

Oh dear.

It's interesting how people tend to take words that people take one way or another. The written word can be a powerful thing, because you never know the direct effect it will have on people, who your audience is, and what they will take from it.

For the record, said "idiot" in my previous post was not in ANY WAY about any friends or family members that anyone knows. I'm almost positive that it was written about someone that none of you know---not anyone I really know, either. Unless, that is, that you happen to go to the same doctors office that I do.

Do you?

I have been in and out of the doctors office this past week, and with that, had some pleasant, and unpleasant encounters with people of all kind. So please, if you have been offended, of thought that I was speaking to you, or about you, it is very most likely that I was not. In any way. I had a great weekend with some wonderful family and fabulous friends that I adore. I love those people, and we heard WONDERFUL NEWS. That post was not directly related to anything that happened with the people I love in my life.

Oh my ranting.

After a some what frustrating encounter with someone I willingly deemed an "idiot" this weekend, Chris got the short end of the stick, as we were "stuck" in our car for the next two hours with me fuming, crying, and passionate as ever.

I want to make something very clear.

Children are miraculous.

The simple fact that people can even get pregnant is miraculous.

The fact that women actually can carry a child 40 weeks is miraculous.

Labor. Birthing. Miraculous.

Sex actually makes a HUMAN!? MIRACULOUS.

As in, oh my gosh, that is a MIRACLE.

A MIRACLE.

A child is actually grown inside a human.

And when the mother, and the child, survive: THAT IS A FREAKING MIRACLE.

And it will be. every time a child is born, it will be. And every time, heaven help, a child doesn't die before it makes it, it will be. And every time a child is conceived, it will be.

Do you understand that? Can you really wrap your head around the idea about the modern miracle that procreation is?

It is not something that just happens.

And when you act like it's just no-big-deal, like you just created life, as easy as it was to tie your own shoes, it makes me want to vomit. It shakes me to my core. And it hearts my heart. And my soul.

God only knows why you were made a parent, as only he knows why he granted me two miracles, but the fact of the matter is that, by God, you created a child.

It was not random.
It was not by chance.
It was not a mistake.

So the next time that you refer to this miracle that is occurring, before our very eyes, try not to sound like such an ungrateful, immature, undeserving, selfish, spoiled little child.

Because seriously...

Children are miraculous.

Please leave a message after the beep...

Swine flu.

Still recovering.

Well, not really... but it sure seems like it.

Decisions, decisions.

Canon rebel it is.

The end.

Thank you. very much.

So, when's Christmas again??

Urgh.

I just read through a couple of my most recent posts, and I wanted to throw a rock at my computer. Ya see, I have this "rule" where I am a Mom, when my humans are conscious, and their alternative parental device is off making millions, or becoming a genius; therefor, I have a window of nap time, and bed time to work with.

Chris got a new job. He makes millions, did I mention that? Anyway, at this new job, he works part time, only a few days a week. His work-slash-school schedule works beautifully together. In order to get in his absolute needed daily surf, he wakes up at the butt crack of dawn (aka 5 AM) and heads off to see the real love his life: Mother Ocean.

Which means I don't get to go to Yoga in the morning.

Bummer, I know.

So, that means everything gets bumped up. I used to blog during naps (well... WHEN I blogged...I'm only consistent at being inconsistent) . Now, I clean my house sans children, lounge, plan the rest of our day, do nothing, ornwhen I'm feeling really enthusiastic, I shower. This all used to occur during their bed time.

But, yoga got moved to bed time.

I don't like working out mid-day.

It's got to be morning or night.

Ya with me?

Where am I going?

AH YES!

Yoga.

Chris and I do yoga together at night.

Seriously.

I love it.

He loves it.

I love him.

But that wasn't where I was really going... Focus. SO (ahem) after yoga, and showering, and dating my husband, it gets pretty late. And then I don't blog. Or, even better, I do blog. And then it's crummy. Punctuation. Spelling. Tangents. Urgh. It's gotten ugly people.

And I'm sorry.

But I can't think of any other solution.

So, here's to the new world of writing like I'm in Elementary School, again.

Welcome.

Yes.

J felt like being totally cooperative.

Some very observant person asked me if my boys were twins.

I said yes. Because he deserved it.

He asked how far a part they were born.

I said 18 months and 1 day.

And then he looked at ME like I was the crazy one.

"Is that possible?"

I took a deep breath.

"No. No it's not."

Hmmmmmm.