Last weekend, as I sat with my calendar looking at the approaching week, I felt a little overwhelmed. We had FIVE baseball games to attend and baseball practices to participate in. A monster dentist appointment was on the agenda, on the same day that I was doing a big presentation all morning at the elementary school. There was cub scouts, and mutual and a field trip and then all the other regular stuff that happens: sewing and cleaning and laundry and driving to and from the school a bazillion times, and yard work and housework and visiting teachers and visiting grandparents and...and...and...
Real life. real life gets real overwhelming sometimes.
Well, guess what. Sometimes there are small miracles, complete with small disasters, that slow down the pace of life when you really don't know how you are going to manage to get everything accomplished. And, the biggest blessing this week was the nasty weather. I maybe haven't ever been so grateful for rain and snow in my life. The storms this week rained out/snowed out three of our baseball games. Which allowed Elliott to go to cub scouts, me to take a breath, and Wyatt to fully recover from his oral surgery.
But, the weather did kill our trampoline. There wasn't a way we could get off for free on that one. But, no baseball in exchange for a broken trampoline? Seems like a fair trade. And, it's unfortunate that there isn't video of us, with the help of our neighbor, getting the trampoline back over the fence. That would have been quite a sight!
Wyatt survived and recovered from his dentist appointment. We were pretty nervous parents going into the whole thing, especially when we found out there were two additional cavities (5 total) that had to be repaired, in addition to the broken tooth. He still has a giant bruise from the site of his IV, but he came out of the experience with flying colors. No pain, no drama, just a little wobbly as the anesthesia took the whole afternoon and evening to wear off. But, that day was a blessing, too. Ross took the day off of work to help out (no little brothers allowed at the dentist) and the plan was that I take the boys to school, do my presentations for the work based learning day and then in the middle of my third rotation, Ross was going to bring Quinn to me and take Wyatt. Well, the dentist was behind schedule so Ross didn't have to bring Quinn, I got to do my presentations in peace, and I got to have the time to present to Wyatt's class, with him there, too. Small miracles.
Wednesday hit us with about 6 inches of snow and on Thursday morning, we headed tot he zoo. Wyatt got to ride his first bus ever (no seat belts!) and Quinn and I met him, and his little friends at the zoo. We had a great time walking around and by the time we headed home all the snow had melted. We got to see the baby orangutan, one of the lions kill and eat a wandering gosling, and Wyatt and Quinn fell asleep (and stayed asleep) on the way home.
By the time Friday night rolled around, we'd had a week...but a very different kind of week than we'd anticipated. Still as busy, still as exhausting, but we at least felt like we were able to take a deep breath every once and a while.
At his last dentist appointment, in March, it was discovered that he has two cavities, a cracked molar and serious plaque. Go ahead and call us bad parents for our kid having bad teeth, but it's much more complicated than that. Much. More. Complicated.
Anyway - we thought the appointment for oral surgery (knock out shot and an iv) was for April 2 and spent the week leading up to April 2 in complete disaster mode. Wyatt was a mess. He couldn't sleep or eat. He complained constantly that his tummy hurt. He projectile vomited off my bed all over himself and his dad. It was intense.
The day before however, we didn't have a phone call with instructions and started to panic. Ross called the dentist...April SEVENTH, not SECOND. Pretty easy mistake and we just shook our heads and stopped talking about the dentist all together, saving our weekend and our sanity.
Fast forward to April 6. Wyatt's scheduled time was 11 am. Bad time. He couldn't eat anything after 5 am, and we thought he could still drink clear liquids. Ross took the day off to take Wyatt and so we didn't have to deal with Quinn at the dentist. At 10:30, he checked Wyatt out of school and they headed to the appointment. Wyatt was in a good mood, being very tough and was a real trooper. His dad had given him a blessing the night before, and I think that really helped him to chill out.
At 11:15 I got a phone call from Ross. I assumed it was to tell me that Wyatt's procedure had started and that he survived the knock out with out screaming or puking. It was Ross. He called to tell me that they were headed home, no dental work. Apparently there was a miscommunication and though we thought Wyatt could drink, he wasn't supposed to drink anything at all for three hours before the procedures. Crap! Good thing he walked in drinking a gatorade.
The never ending dental drama continues for another week. The new appointment is for next week on the 15th. Rewind. Play. Repeat.
Then, we hit Wednesday. Wednesday it rained ALL DAY LONG. I was so happy for the rain, we need the water desperately. It rained all morning, there was a break in the afternoon, and then around 4:00 it really started to pour. Wyatt's first baseball game was supposed to be on Wednesday. We got dressed, loaded the car, and headed to the ball park in the rain. Literally 3 minutes from home, we got the call that all games had been cancelled for the night. Way to go baseball league. Wait to cancel until you totally break the hearts of every single 5 year old in the hood. There were lots of broken hearted tears in our car after that call, that a giant cookie from Schmidt's couldn't fix.
We drove home with our cookies and our sorrow. Someone sat in the car with a broken heart until he was ready to come into the house. We ate dinner and the boys played video games and on their kindles and got to go to bed later than their bedtime, all nice as a consolation prize.
Thursday - yesterday, Elliott had a game and we thought Wyatt had practice, both at 5:30. Ross met us at the ball park in time to take Wyatt to practice. Par for the course I suppose, the original plan blew up in our faces (screaming terrorist two year old) and instead of me taking Wyatt, Ross took Wyatt and Quinn and left for practice. About 15 minutes later, they came back to the ballpark where I was sitting in the cold.
No practice. We just assumed - had never been told - and blew it with Wyatt for the third time this week.
He must be growing up, because just a few weeks ago, this kid of mine wouldn't have let us hear the end of such glaring parental errors (because you know, the rain was our fault too). But, he's taken it in stride, thinks we are dorks, and is just moving on to the next day....
waiting for us to screw up again.
But, in spite of it all, at least I know he still loves me. He's a good egg, that kid.
Our Easter Weekend started on Friday. No school. Yippee! We met Haley and her kids and my mom and dad for lunch downtown at Litza's for some delicious pizza. When the boys and I walked in to get a table the joint was so quiet. I got so nervous that our noisy group of 5 kids was going to get shushed or yelled at, but all was well and the kids were good. It's always a good idea to go to lunch when everyone was hungry.
After lunch, we headed to the Gateway to the Planetarium to watch a 3D imax movie about humpback whales. Underwater videography isn't really my thing, especially in 3D but it was a good movie and Quinn loved it. In fact, another 5 minutes and he probably would have fallen asleep on my lap.
Friday night, dad took us to Menchies for frozen yogurt and we came home and watched a little basketball on the TV.
Saturday was a busy day, as always. Baseball practice, yard work, house cleaning, grocery shopping, and going out to dinner. Quinn had made it napless all day long and in the 10 minutes it took from our house to our dinner place, he totally crashed out and slept through dinner. Bummer! But, when he awoke at the grocery store I was pretty glad that I had brought a squeezy yogurt for him in my purse. He pounded that and then Ross headed straight to the deli to get some ham and let Quinn eat a couple of slices as we finished up the shopping.
Saturday night was an egg dyeing nightmare...that thankfully only lasted 5 minutes. Tears, giggles, spills and cracks dominated the experience and I think we are pretty much done with eggs and can probably find something next year to occupy those 5 minutes at 8:30 pm.
Sunday? Well, Sunday was a pretty low key Easter. General Conference holding us prisoner on the TV, for those who watched, and some cinnamon rolls, homemade caramels, and a celebration for Grandpa Huber's 86th birthday rounded out the day...and the weekend.
Today, as we wrap up our spring break, we went to a movie, "Home", ate popcorn and went on an adventure to IKEA where Quinn threw the worlds biggest and most embarrassingly epic fit of all time bringing our fun to a close. Right now, as I write, the big boys are each on their own sofa, with their own electronic device, chillin' like villains...and I'm perfectly okay with that.
On Thursday morning, we got up extra early. The boys and I had to be at the elementary school at 8:15 in the morning for the weekly awards ceremony. At the boys school, each week, the principal gives out awards to students selected by their teachers, for each grade. There were 4 second grade students who had been selected, along with a dozen or more kids for each of the grades. The principal reads a statement for each student, written by the teacher, telling what that student did during the week. Then, there is a photo opportunity, some applause, and they move on to the next student.
This was Elliott's THIRD time being student leader of the week. I'm curious to see if the kid gets it for every grade through elementary school. He was excited and I was pretty proud of him. It was an early morning, and I only managed to get Quinn half dressed. He was wearing his gorilla shirt, jammie bottoms, and I carried his socks in my hand the entire time.
As everyone knows, I've been making and sewing bags, and selling quite a few of them for months an months now. It's been a really fun little adventure and in the next few weeks, I'm ramping up the process, designing a booth, and selling all my hard work at the spring Beehive Bazaar show. It's pretty exciting, and nerve wracking to be putting myself out there, on display, but I really like what I've been doing, and hope that other people do, too.
If you've got the time April 30 and May 1-2, my stuff with be at the show. It would be great for you to stop by.
I'm in a rut. I'm sure most of you know the kind of rut I'm talking about. The kind where, no matter what clothes you put on in the morning, even though it's your regular "uniform", you feel like you look like Captain Stupid. The rut where even though you are wearing make-up, there is no covering up those dark circles under your eyes. That rut where, even though you look at yourself every day and observe, where all your regular clothes fit just like they always have, the number on the scale keeps changing...in the wrong direction. Sometimes jumping three pounds overnight. How do I gain three pounds overnight?!
And then, even though he insists it's a compliment, your husband calls you curvy.
I'm sure it was, in his head, a compliment.
It doesn't work that way.
Here's the part I cannot reconcile, and it's driving me completely mad. I know that I am good at a lot of things. I have talents, that are put to use regularly. The entire dual immersion second grade things I'm the coolest PE mom in the world. I can sew up a storm every day. I never let the laundry pile up. I am smart, educated, kind, thoughtful, considerate, funny, musically challenged and like most people, I just really wish that I was a good dancer. I take really good care of my kids and am so proud that they are smart and kind and funny and special good kids. I think that I am a good wife. I know I'm a terrible housekeeper, but I'm okay with that and I am a really good cook to compensate for the messy bathrooms.
Why can't I seem to make any of that matter? Why instead, do I get in these ruts where, I feel like my self-worth and identity should be determined by my weight, how my clothes fit, whether my hair looks perfectly symmetrical and how much I exercise every day. Which, by the way, is almost never (but we don't need to talk about that). Why do I become consumed with self-doubt, hesitation and reservation about all the things that I'm good at to the point that I don't think I'm good at them anymore...all because I weigh as much as an offensive linebacker.
Is it hard for you to get dressed for church on Sunday? Sunday's are my most stressful and uptight days of the week. I go through outfit after outfit trying to get ready for church. My bedroom looks like a dressing room threw up. Never, do I make it to church on the first outfit I try, it's usually the third or fourth outfit that I settle with and head out the door in a huff.