Wishing I were a witch right about

NOW!!

Wouldn't it be so cool if you could just utter a simple incantation, "Noelimus diminuendo" and all your Christmas decorations were gone? Right about now it totally stinks to be a muggle. . . . .

Christmas Grinch

I'll post pictures later. . . .but I can't stop thinking about this experience. We were planning to drive to Alpine Christmas afternoon to be with the family, but the storm was really bad down in Utah County so we ended up going to a movie near our house instead--The Tale of Desperaux. I know, I know, seeing a movie on Christmas makes someone else have to work on the holiday. . . . . . . .I don't want to think about that and feel guilt--so I won't.

The weirdest thing happened to D while he was waiting in line to fill up a drink. There was a little machine and people were waiting patiently when a woman came storming up and asked, "Is this the line for drinks?" "Yes," everyone else replied. Well, the woman stood there for a moment and then exclaimed, "One person at the fountain at a time? That is so inefficient!" She then stormed past everyone in line and began grabbing two cups. D said she practically knocked over this really tiny lady who was taking her turn.

As she began her violent drink-filling escapade, someone else in line said, "Why can't you just wait 60 seconds till it's your turn?" This strange woman then smugly replied, "Sixty seconds? In my line of work 60 seconds is worth 100 dollars." She then kept muttering things about one person filling at a time when there was room for two--how inefficient (D said she used that word a lot).

I think the tiny woman who was being pushed by crazy lady had had enough. She then asked, "What line of work are you in? I am an attorney, and I don't make 100 dollars in a minute. . . . ."
I guess that line--admittedly a bit of a stinger-- pushed this woman over the edge. She was done getting her drink, but had to wait in line--in front of the tiny attorney she had insulted and butted in front of. She kept turning around and throwing comments at her. . . . "An attorney? You must be a horrible one to be so inefficient!" And then she started raising her voice and throwing the B-word at this lady. D just couldn't believe what he was seeing (mind you the little attorney probably had some curt replies which further egged on the crazy-lady behavior). He felt like if he intervened and said something the crazy lady would start hitting people! Now he wishes he would have said, "Why don't you go in front of me. We can see that you are very anxious to go and get to your movie."

I am just one of those people who perseverates about stuff like this. I can't stop thinking about this lady. No one likes waiting in line for a drink (or whatever else) when you know the movie has already started--but I can hardly believe someone would behave that way over missing a few minutes. I generally try to give people the benefit of the doubt (like when they cut you off, or scurry in line in front of you at the grocery store), but I can not think of any way to let this lady off the hook. Her behavior was uncalled for! And on Christmas!! What an unhapy life she must have to lose her cool over a drink machine. . . . even an 'inefficient' one.

In the meantime, we keep trying to figure out what 'line of work' she must have been in-- food service? D thinks she must be a pole dancer. . . . . what do you think? Maybe a government agent?

Today

will go down in my history books as the most useless day ever. . . . I don't think I did anything worthwhile (no laundry, leftovers for all meals, watched 3 episodes of 'The Suite Life' with the kids). I didn't even change out of pajamas until after 1:00.

What Men are Good For

Roger has, once again, worked his toddler magic and jammed a CD into the player (yeah, I know, we've got to get CD's out of his reach . . . I like to blame all problems like this on the twins-- "Oh, the twins left out a marker and Roger got it--never my fault).

I've been ignoring the issue, happily tuning my radio dial to a Christmas station of choice. D, however, was right on it when he discovered the problem. He set to work this afternoon and had SONY parts scattered all over the table until it was sufficiently disassembled to retrieve the offending blockage. I took a nap, and ta-dah!! I have a working CD player again.

It's not that I am intimidated by unscrewing or anything, by I am grateful that someone in the family will jump at the opportunity to play with electronics. I'm sure as a boy, D pulled apart so many of these items he basically knows how it will work.

I'm grateful he is the one who remembers to climb on the roof and winterize the swamp-cooler (though, thankfully, this will be the last year--we've now got central air, woohoo!) I'm glad he doesn't ignore the drooping fence post whose base rotted out last winter--yep, he's on the job, digging out a huge hole to remove it. There are many other things that I ignore, but are of paramount importance to him.I'm glad he notices and does things that I don't.

Now, if I could only get him to pick up his pajamas from the bathroom floor in the morning. . . . .

Little Britches

I just finished this book called Little Britches (Ralph Moody), and I loved, loved, loved it! It was written by a man whose family settled the frontier during the early 1900's, but it is written from the perspective of the 8-year-old boy, Ralph. I just picked it up from my mom's house and it is a quick read, probably written for about a fifth or sixth grader. I love stories written from a young boy's perspective because even the difficult experiences are written in such a matter-of-fact manner (not sentimental) that it doesn't feel like you are being coersed into feeling a certain way about the incident at hand.

Anyway, the story focuses on Ralph's new experiences as a farmer--getting to know his Dad through hard work, learning to ride horses, getting into fights in the one-room schoolyard, dealing with natural disasters and animal disasters, and learning to become a man. As I read about this family's life, I can feel the joy of living simply, and of cherishing the things that matter most.

Ralph shares several Christmas memories, but has this to say of his experiences, "It seemed as though our best Christmases were the ones when we were the poorest." I can't help but wonder if living in relative ease makes it easy to forget that your biggest blessings and most important gifts-- your family and friends-- are ones that can't be purchased in a store . . . . so for all of you out there still reading this very sentimental post (unlike the book which is not cheesy at all)--I am so grateful for you all and the blessings you've been to me and my little family!

Good mom? Bad mom?

As I was walking the kids to school today, Eliza cried the ENTIRE time. Why? First she left her backpack at home and then forgot to bring shoes to change into at school (she hates wearing her snow boots around). Please keep in mind that she has inherited both of her parent's loud voices and to top things off--she still sounds a little like Minnie Mouse when she talks. Thus, the screaming is very piercing.

I was getting annoyed by the crying and all the other kids were bothered, too. I gave Eliza a warning that if she didn't stop crying, I would take one of her presents away from the tree. After two warnings, she didn't stop and I told her that I would be taking away a present. She could earn it back by helping me with neighbor gifts this afternoon. Still, the crying would not relent. . . . . .by the time we reached school, she had lost 3 gifts and was saying she wished that she didn't have to go to school, and she hated school, and she hated her snowboots-blah, blah, blah. The crying persisted after I left her in the coatroom and her teacher came to rescue her.

So now I am left wondering if I was a good mom or a bad mom to take away presents. It was only crying, after all. I suppose her punishment was built in to the source of her crying-an uncomfortable day in boots at school. I was punishing her for not being able to control her emotions--a problem I, too, struggle with.

Life was so easy when the kids were babies. I knew I was a good mom if they were fed, diapered, and clothed. Even as children reach toddlerhood, the basics of being a good mom are simple and revolved around taking care of life's basic necessities. Now, things are getting so complicated. When discipline is involved, I am not always sure if I came down to hard or too lightly. Giving in to a whine here or there has no immediate damage, but will ultimately teach the kids the wrong lesson about how to ask for things they want. . . . .Arggghhh, I don't even have teenagers yet!!

UPDATE: I picked Eliza up from school--smiling and cheerful. Apparently the morning incident had left her mind. I'm glad she hadn't been stewing about it like I had for 3 hours . . . . . she cheerfully helped my make 20 cheeseballs and very diligently helped shovel snow and now her presents are back under the tree. I think I was the one that needed to learn a lesson in patience here.

frustrating times

It is so frustrating that Santa will bring me some beautiful new snow boots (I've been such a good girl, and that is all I am asking for), and it is snowing so hard today I really wish I had them already. . . . . . I feel like they are teasing me from the bag under my bed or something strange like that!

Pet peeve or two

Don't you just hate it when the grocery store bagger ties up your plastic bags in a double knot so you have to tear open the bag and ruin it--never to be reused?

And speaking of that, don't you hate it when the person in front of you practically stops the car and begins his turn AND THEN turns on his blinker? (signal your intentions)

And finally, don't you hate it when the word verification rectangle on the comment box doesn't make any sort of word that can kindof make sense? For instance, if your letters are v-e-r-i-t-y you can say "verity," in your mind and it is easier to type, but if the letters say r-t-u-y-l-m, you say, "rituyalum" and inevitably spell the verification word wrong and then have to type another word (this time you hope for verity).

Are you with me?

The Twin Test

I guess since I've had twins people always ask me if I think I'll have twins again. They also tell me often that they are worried they might be having twins because they are 'bigger' with this pregnancy than the last one. I get asked what my symptoms were like with the twins i.e. sicker, bigger, etc.

Nope, I don't think I'll have twins again. I just think it was a remarkable fluke of nature, but one that won't be repeated. I never really thought I'd have twins before Davis and Liza, and just don't think about it much still.

As for if YOU are going to have twins (feeling bigger with pregnancy #2,3 or whatever) here's the test: Roll over on your stomach during week 10 of your pregnancy (bladder empty). If it feels like you have an orange lodged inside your abdomen (your uterus)- you ARE bigger (and I am talking an orange here, not a walnut or anything). If you don't really feel much (except gas or nausea) your 'feeling bigger' is probably due to stretched out ab muscles that aren't as tight as they were with your last pregnancy.

I remember very vividly rolling onto my stomach at 10 weeks with the twins and feeling the 'orange belly,' but with Roger and this new baby (even though I was/am practically ready to convert to maternity wear) I can't feel my uterus expanding yet. With a single baby your uterus doesn't grow as fast. Since the twins were my first pregnancy, I didn't know that I was actually so big--it was all new to me at that time!

Good luck with my Twin Test. Let me know if it was a good predictor for you. . . . . . .

Christmas Traditions

For all of the tags I have failed to respond to, I respond to THIS one, and invite anyone else to tag themselves for Christmas Traditions as well.

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? I love bags with colorful tissue paper, but am resigned to paper for now so the kids won’t peek.

2. Real tree or Artificial? Artificial—my hubby isn’t home enough to depend on for help

3. When do you put up the tree? Usually the weekend after Thanksgiving

4. When do you take the tree down? After New Years

5. Do you like eggnog? Yep, but in very small quantities

6. Favorite gift received as a child? I just remember I loved clothes-- I guess I do remember a homemade Barbie house my mom made when I was young as well.

7. Hardest person to buy for? My mom ( I actually love shopping for my Dad)

8. Easiest person to buy for? The kids, they tell me exactly what they want.

9. Do you have a nativity scene? Yes, I got one from my Grandma for my wedding (married on December 21) so it is really special.

10. Mail or email Christmas Cards? Snail mail for sure--one of the few things technology can't better is the old-fashioned Christmas card.

11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? Strange sweaters from my mom (sorry mom)

12. Favorite Christmas Movie? It’s a Wonderful Life (my Dad watches it every Christmas, and when I was younger I didn’t understand why—now I totally relate to it)

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Usually in October

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? No, but I’ve D.I.’d them before

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Reese’s peanut butter cups

16. Lights on tree? Yes, white ones.

17. Favorite Christmas song? Angels We Have Heard on High

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? After a now infamous blow-up (by me, in which I woke up the entire house--what can I say? I have a temper) on Christmas morning at my parent's house (early, early A.M. with a toddler who wouldn’t sleep well in the same room as me, well wouldn't sleep all night, to be frank), I would have to say I enjoy the comfort of my own bed, though we have hit St. George before without serious incident (not that D’s schedule ever accommodates that anymore).

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeers? OF COURSE!

20. Angel on the tree top or a star? Angel

21. Open presents on Christmas Eve or morning? Morning, one on Christmas Eve

22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year? Some of the sappy Christmas songs on the radio

23. Favorite Ornament theme or color? Every year I slowly add to my red, green and gold tree—it’s starting to look pretty fancy (dare I say I have a REALLY hard time putting those homemade ornaments from the kids on my tree)

24. Favorite for Christmas dinner? Spiral-sliced Ham

25. What do you want for Christmas this year? laser hair removal (hint, hint to the person who never reads this blog) and a new wallet

26. Favorite Christmas memory? Cousin gift exchange where we all wrote poems to go with our presents—very cute and fun—and then running around the house with cousins all night after that. I also LOVE singing with my Dad, Mom, and siblings (my brother has a voice like an angel—and I’m not kidding!)

27. Favorite Christmas cookie? sugar

28. Are you going to make any gifts this year? Just my Christmas Card--if I ever get it done. . . .

29. Newest Christmas tradition for your family? Caroling at the Hospital on Christmas Eve

Breakfast with Santa

What could be more fun? Dad was even there!

what I'm listening to. . . .

Spirit of the Season, with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and Sissel(I love, love Sissel's voice and I love track 2, Wexford Carol)

A Tenor's Christmas

(What can I say? I know it is very classical (aka nerdy), but I am a sucker for an awesome tenor!)

signs of the time

Wow, I totally must be pregnant. I can not even drive 10 blocks without crying--you see, my radio dial is tuned into 'The Breeze', Utah's Christmas Music Headquarters, of course. I swear I tear up at every single song. . . .sad, but true.

I'm hooked. . . .

(and how couldn't you be with a look like that?)

I've been remarkably absent from the couch in front of my T.V. for a few months now (you know, lying in bed, feelin' kinda crappy instead--sob, sob), BUT I've discovered this show and we are totally addicted to it now. It's called The Mentalist and is on at 8:00 PM, Tuesday on CBS here.

Basically, the main character-- Patrick Jane-- was happily living his life as a prominent and outspoken psychic. Then his wife and daughter were murdered by a serial killer who was trying to make a point. You see, Jane had been bragging about his work as a psychic specialist for CBI (California Bureau of Investigation--does this really exist?). The killer left him a note that asked him if he really was a psychic, why didn't he see his family's fate?

Well, this tragedy totally turned Jane into a crime fighting machine. He has dropped his celebrity psychic status and now works full time for CBI solving cases. He admits now that he was never psychic, rather a very observant person and an extremely good actor. He uses these skills to solve cases in an unorthodox, unexpected, and entertaining manner.

I like the show because Jane is such a smooth talker, but is the biggest sissy ever. He has been 'saved' on multiple occasions by his fellow agents. He comes up with the craziest ways to bate people and catch the culprits of the crime. I am also hooked because I like the side characters-- the other agents. There is some unspoken romantic tension between Jane and his boss lady (can't remember her name). There are a couple of other agents that have a thing for each other and Jane teases them. I like the banter between everyone.

Can you tell I like this show? Try it, I think you'll like it, too.

Dear Macy's Executive,

I was thrilled to get your 53 page ad in the mail today regarding your ONEDAYSALE. I would, however, like a few things explained to me. First, if you will flip your ad to page 40 with me, you will see that the title of the page is, "ALL MEN'S GROOMING ON SALE." My problem is that contained within this page are pictures of such items as a Shark Power Sweeper and a Rowenta Effective iron. The last time I checked in on my man, he had very little to do with the ironing or sweeping in our home--so either your ad is at fault or my husband is a woefully inept Groomer.


In addition, as you flip with me to the cover of the ad, you will see that the Preview day for your sale is listed as an entire day before the actual Public sale date of Saturday, December 6th. If I understand correctly, a preview day is simply an additional day of sale prices. Therefore my reasoning tells me that your ONEDAYSALE will, in all honesty, be running for two days. So, perhaps you need to have a word with your advertising department.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,
A confused suburban mother of 3

those unforgettable moments

Today as I rounded the corner into the kitchen I caught Eliza spraying 'I Can't Believe It's Not Butter' directly into Roger's mouth. I could not believe that I was actually witnessing this blessed event. I scolded Eliza and took the bottle away, but alas, Roger was hooked. He started to cry like I had just taken away a half-eaten lollipop!!

At this point, I had two choices, 1) I could ignore the crying and stick to my guns or 2) I could let him have the spray-butter back. A little voice in my head rung out to me. "Pick your battles," it said. I then decided this was a battle I was willing to loose--on certain terms. I grabbed a plate and sprayed a thin layer of fake, salty butter over the top and gave it to my one-year-old. He happily sat at the table and licked the plate clean (by the way, Eliza did not want to be left out and she, too, had a plate of spray butter).

Do you ever have those moments where your kids just totally gross you out-- you know, you are at church and your toddler has a poo-ooze-out all over the nursery floor? At moments like these you understand those movies when the main character is walking along the sidewalk and every bad child they encounter is freeze-framed in some obnoxious or otherwise undesirable behavior. The character is totally agast at why any sane person would be willing to have children of their own.

But, somehow, when it is your own child, it is different. Despite all the irritating stuff your kids' do, you just are addicted to them. Your life revolves around them. You just want to talk about them all the time. All the bad stuff is there, but the good and cute things they do outweigh the negatives.

People say that you never know now much your parents love you until you have kids, and it is SO true!! I also feel a lot more empathy towards lay people I encounter in random situations- "Gee, they must be pretty special. Their parent's love them as much as I love my kids."

This Thanksgiving was a great event with my wonderful parents, my siblings, my aunts and uncles (who, by the way, are GREAT cooks), some cousins, and my Grandma. I am so grateful for the opportunity I have to be surrounded by these people who care. I love the familiar sound of my Aunt Dawn's laugh reflected in her daughter--my cousin Janet. I love it when my Grandma calls me Milly (she has since I was little). I love my Uncle Craig who is seriously one of the most attentive and empathetic men I've met-- he always looks me earnestly and asks me how I've been. I love listening to my Aunt DD's sayings and then realizing where her 5 daughters (my great cousins) got it from. I loved getting to know my cousin Gwen's new husband. I love singing songs and hymns surrounded by the people I love. I truly feel blessed to be a part of a family who has loved me despite my stupid and abnoxious moments (and there have been plenty of those, for sure)!!! I am so grateful I could just soak up these moments.

Milkless

I swear I run out of milk EVERY Saturday night.

Musings on an ob/gyn appointment

My good friend Bonnie doesn't really think twice about a visit to the ob/gyn. She just knows everyone has to do it, and the doctors' have seen it all--the good, the bad, and the ugly. She knows she just falls somewhere in between (hopefully not on the spectrum of the ugly).

I wish I could be like that. I think it is quite possible I overthink the situation entirely. Last night I was in the shower scrubbing and shaving away (sorry to you men out there who just read that). "Really," I thought to myself, "Am I doing this right? Have I sufficiently prepared myself to bare (no pun intended) these precious, private parts to a total stranger?" What about a careful trim--does that just look ridiculous? Does it look like I am trying too hard if I slather myself with lotion? And really, what would I being 'trying too hard' to accomplish? To not look like some freak of nature, I suppose. I mean, it is not like most of us are intimately aquainted with that part of each other's bodies, so how do I even know if I am normal or not?

I don't think there is a how-to book about preparing for said yearly exam. For instance, do you talk to your doctor while he is, uh-hmm, placing the speculum (ahh, can you believe I said that)? When is small talk okay? If you engage in small-talk, do you come across nervous? Or silly? Or just like a woman who doesn't know when to shut up? I am uncertain about the laws of etiquette in such a strange situation.

I mean, when does real-life ever prepare you for this? "Hi, I'm Dr. Sharp. Nice to meet you."

"Yes, nice to meet you. I am Camilla." The conversation continues for a few minutes while Dr. Sharp answers all of my burning questions (fortunately, today my questions were not literally burning questions) and then politely asks me to, well, spread 'em. Yep, that was 5 minutes from hello--seriously must be a record.

When I was younger, I thought that booking a female gyn might make the situation better--but, sadly, I must declare I was equally uncomfortable. There is just something very odd about the whole thing.

In the meantime, I am just glad I got that one over with today and unfortunately will have to accept this uncomfortable scenario as one of the more unpleasant parts of being a woman.

Cat is out of the Bag. . .

Yes, folks, I have some news, but some people in the neighborhood have already guessed. I have been puking almost daily and can barely drag myself out of bed in the morning. Yep, I am the happy (nervous) mom who got to hear the heartbeat of Millar baby #4 today.

I am having very mixed feelings here. First, I would like everyone to know that, yes, we must be crazy to have four kids before D finishes his LONG residency. I truly don't know how we will survive, but--survive, we must. My mom reminded me that this is a train I can't get off of now, so I better start enjoying the ride (so cliche', but so true).

For those who are wondering, this will make Roger and the new one 28 months apart. Not a shockingly close amount, but still close in my book. The good news is that after Roger was born, I knew I wanted at least one more--so here it is. Wish me luck till June. . . .

Sympathy pains

I just need a little "oh that stinks" from everyone out there for this: we found Roger putting pennies into the car CD player this morning--I can't even put a CD in anymore.

Twilight

Yep, I was the winner of a ticket to Twilight yesterday from my niece, Quinci. Thanks, Quinc. We had a great time--though I was super late because of crazy traffic on the freeway and missed standing in line and hangin out before the movie.

WARNING FOR DIE-HARD TWILIGHT FANS: SPOILER

My opinion: The movie was entertaining and it was fun to watch the book come to life. My major beefs were: 1) I thought the special effects were very low-budget. 2) I just couldn't get over the fact that the actor playing Edward looked like he was wearing heavy make-up in every scene (sorry, that pretty boy thing just isn't for me!). Actually, now that I think about it--all of the Cullen's make-up was cheesy and fake. 3) I thought the romance between Bella and Edward came off a little thin-- I truly didn't believe from the screenplay that they actually could be in love with each other from their minimal interactions--just seemed like a flimsy teenage crush to me (sorry!)

Sorry if this offends, it's just my opinion!

Oops!

Just thought I'd confess: I forgot it was my turn to walk the kids to school today. . . . . feelin' pretty dumb because I took advantage of (unknowingly) (until I later realized it) another Dad's kindness who was already walking. . .oops, oops, oops!

my alarm clock is:

very faithful.


often annoying.


goes off too early.


sounds like this, "Maaaaaaahhhhhhm!" (repeated many times, getting louder, and progressively more annoying and whiny. (Guess who? Roger. "Mahm" is one of the few words he has truly mastered).



But today, I was pleasantly awaken by the sound of a new ring, sounding like this, "Day'is. . . Yi-yuh. . . .Day'is. . . .Yi-yuh. . . .Day'is. . . ." As I am listening to these new words being uttered from my alarm clock, I hear whispering coming up the stairs from Day'is and Yi-yuh. They then 'sneak' into Roger's room, and following a lot of grunting and a few bumps from the 3 of them, they all make an appearance in my room.

At least it was a change of pace.

Roast

Why is it that one of D's favorite meals--crockpot roast, potatoes, and carrots is one of my LEAST? Seriously, it is a big hunk of red meat and soft potatoes-bleh! Just smelling the meat cooking brings back nasty memories of sitting at the dinner table on Sunday afternoons gagging my food down.

Too bad it is such an easy meal to make. . . .

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Today during Sharing Time, Sister H. said that she needed some volunteers who were good readers for a little readers' theater. The gifted Nate L. (6 yrs), enthusiastically raised his hand and blurted out, "I am a great reader. In fact, whenever I see a word, I can't help but read it!"

Later this afternoon when D was telling the kids about his patients (something he actually does quite frequently), he was explaining about a gentleman he had operated on. Prior to the operation, they had taken an CT-scan of the man's abdomen and found his appendix was inflammed. Davis looked at Dad with big eyes and asked the follow up question, "It was on fire?"

Thankful for YOU

(warning: excessive cheese to follow)



Tonight as I am sitting here in bed, husbandless, I just feel overcome with gratitude to be married to such a great guy. Even though his work is grueling and takes him away from us a lot, he remains cheerful and resilient. He treats me with respect even when I don't deserve it. He loves me, even when I'm not very loveable. He is a wonderful father and a great example to me. I really feel like if everyone on earth treated their spouse the way I am treated, a lot of suffering and sadness would be alleviated--and I really mean that. He has been teased in his life for having too much energy or being too happy, but those qualities have blessed me so much. Thank you, my dear Deedles for being my guy. I love you!

Parenting Dilemma

Your 5 year-old is home from school, sick (puking), and you can't decide: Do you take the poor, sick child to the store with you to get sick juice (aka gatorade) and other items to make sickness less horrible OR do you leave them at home in the peace of their own blanket watching cartoons?

I won't tell you which decision I made, but it was a tough one.

Halloween Pics

Yes, I did take pictures. . .here you go! (though, technically, Kerri took these ones--thanks Kerri)

Good News is. . . .

. . . .that my cell phone is very clean.

Bad news is that it won't turn on after going through the wash.

Underwear Sizes

Our family badly needed to stock up on the basics--underwear and socks!! Davis is 5 years old and starting to move away from the toddler sizes and into the big boy sizes. While I was shopping yesterday, I grabbed the small size for Davis in the big boys section. When I got home I undid the package and pulled out the underwear-- they were huge!! I looked on the back of the package and laughed to see that the 'small' size was intended for boys from the weight of 42 to 56 pounds--a 14 pound difference! That is the weight difference between Davis and Roger right now. Seriously, 14 pounds for kids--someone in the underwear department at Hanes needs to be educated. I returned the undies and went to Kids' R Us where they sold underwear by the whole sizes: 5, 6,7, and 8.

prediction

I predict with the elections over that our gas prices will begin to rise, and will once again reach those disgusting levels ($4.00/gallon) by next year at this time. . . . . . .let's just see!

Learning Lessons in the Bathtub

Yesterday Roger was in the bath, and I pulled out the bubbles and started blowing away. He was having so much fun. I haven't blown bubbles with him for months. I was starting to get a little tired, but he was just beginning this game and he kept reaching for the bubble container. "No," I told him, "You'll dump all the bubbles out." Somehow, my warning didn't phase him and he was really starting to get insistent--he wanted to try blowing bubbles HIMSELF--ALL BY HIMSELF.

I finally gave up and gave him the container. Sure enough, he dumped the bottle within 30 seconds. He was so upset--but what could I do for him? I'd already warned him. This outcome was exactly what I knew would happen if I gave him the bubbles.

While I consoled him, I wondered if this is what Heavenly Father feels like with us sometimes. He's giving us warnings all the time for our benefit and happiness. . . ."Watch what media comes into your home. . . . .stay away from drugs and alcohol. . . . .read your scriptures. . ." The list could go on and on. I believe our Heavenly Father knows just how painful and obvious the result of our disregarding his warnings or suggestions can be. . . . just like I KNEW my little Roger would dump out the bubbles if I let him hold them. But, in the end, our Heavenly Father loves us so much, he lets us have our own way. And I believe it is just so that we will know for ourselves what the outcome was. Isn't it great that Heavenly Father doesn't tell us, "I told you so," when we come crying back to him with our spilled bubbles? Instead he lovingly encourages us to repent and heed his warnings in the future.

D's last night in the Burn Unit OR "The Woman With 13 lives"

Sometimes I get slightly frustrated with certain patients who monopolize my husband's time, so when D told me that this lady was the reason he didn't come home on Saturday, I was kindof bugged--but still glad that D can do the right thing for people.

At noon on Saturday, the unit gets the call that a new burn was on it's way in (don't you love how they dehumanize people calling them burns instead?). A 60-70 year old woman who was a resident in a nursing home was in really bad shape. While she was smoking, she caught fire and had inhalation injuries and some external burns as well. As D put it, a normal (healthy) person could have survived this trauma, but this woman was far from it. Believe it or not, this lady had had 7 heart attacks and 5 strokes!! She had literally cheated death 12 times!! Her health was very poor--she had to take laxatives 3 times every day to force herself to defecate in order to remove toxins from her body because her kidneys or liver were not working properly (it's been a long time since physiology for me folks). D told me some other issues, but I can't remember everything else that was wrong with her (on top of her previous heart attacks and strokes).

When she arrived at the hospital, she was sedated and required a ventilator. After checking this woman's injuries, her labs, and her vitals, D and his attending agreed that there was no way this woman was ever leaving the hospital alive. Her body was incapable of healing itself. The family arrived soon thereafter and it was made known that she had signed DNR orders (do not rescucitate). D spoke with the family about her chances of survival and shared his opinion that their Grandmother would not make it. He said they could probably keep her alive for a week or two-- but eventually her organs would fail. She would reqiure heavy sedation and a breathing device (ventilator) in the mean time to keep her alive.

The family then made the decision at about 11:00 P.M. to withdraw supportive care. I am happy to say that my husband was able to assist them with a priesthood blessing in which she was released from this life. At this point, the ventilator was turned off and D administered a high dose of narcotics so she would not be in any pain. After about an hour, D was shocked to see that the woman's vitals were still going strong. He made a comment to the family that she was a fighter. I have to admit when D told me this I was shocked he would say that. I thought maybe he would make the family feel like they had made the wrong decision--he assured me there was "no way" she would ever survive her injuries.

Then the family laughed and was like, "Yeah, Grandma has always been the cat who had nine lives!" D corrected them, "Twelve, you mean?" (referring to her heart attacks and strokes). They laughed.

Anyway, as it turned out the woman ended up living until 2:00 A.M. (much to D's shock--he told me she was on high dose narcotics which any normal person wouldn't tolerate for that long). D said it felt very strange to withdraw care because he's never done it before. Usually he watches people for weeks and weeks and fights to keep them alive. Overall, he thoguht it was a good experience. Very sobering, but very compassionate as well.

So, farewell, burn unit--I am happy to see you go-- your job is noble, but your patients' are too sick for a normal human (my husband--mostly normal) to have a normal life while caring for you. R. I. P.

Update from the dry ice guy

Just in case you were worried about dry ice guy, the good doctors in the burn unit had to amputate both his legs below the knees.

So, in case you were wondering what happens if you submerge your legs in dry ice for three hours, now you know.

license to. . .

I don't know where my brain has been but, today I made chocolate chip cookies--minus the fat (not on purpose). My recipe calls for shortening and when I opened the tub, I was out. So I decided to exchange it with butter. I had one stick of butter left and put it in the microwave to soften. I then added all the ingredients. After mixing everything up, I looked at the dough and something just wasn't right (too sticky). "Man," I was thinking, "that shortening really does make a difference." Despite my qualms, that something didn't stop me from plopping drops of dough onto cookie sheets and baking. The cookies also turned out funny--they raised, but promptly fell and were really tough--even though I hadn't overcooked them. I attributed all of these problems to the butter substitute until at about 5:00 I opened the microwave to nuke some veggies for dinner and found the stick of butter. . . . guess that means I earned my license of stupidity today.



On another note, D's physicians license came in the mail today. In most states doctors are not licensed until at least one year of post-graduate training. I totally CRIED while opening the letter (I didn't shed a tear at graduation at all). Somehow seeing that piece of paper just made everything seem so real! My husband is a doctor--license to . . . . .(fill in the blank-- hopefully you were thinking heal).



An a completely other and final note, as I was moving gigantic heavy risers into the chapel for the Primary Program Practice today. I totally bent my wedding ring out of shape. I'm really mad!! (see photo for evidence!)

Two Things. . .

For lunch today, D found some packages of Ramen noodles down in storage that I'd forgotten about. Can I just say that I really like Ramen!?! Why, oh why, are those cheap, crazy noodles and the accompanying flavor packets so wonderful-- yet have no nutritive value whatsoever? This truly must be one of life's little unjustices.

On another note, a few weeks ago I heard someone quote the saying that, "The pathway to Hell is paved with good intentions." I would like to add the so-called 'Pathway to Heaven' is ALSO paved with good intentions. . . . So, in my book keep trying your best--even if you don't succeed!

Unsolicited advice for the Primary Program

As a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I have the calling to serve as the first counselor in the Primary Presidency of our ward (ward=my local congregation). The Primary is the organization for the children. One of my duties as a counselor to the President is to write and organize the yearly Children's Sacrament Meeting Program. This is the one Sunday during the year where the children sing songs and share the bulk of the program (or service). This is just a bias, but I think it is the BEST Sunday of the YEAR! There is an outline provided by the General Primary Presidency that we use to write the program. We use the outline and then cater speaking assignments to the special abilities of the children in our local ward. It is truly inspired and outlines the general principles of the gospel that we believe as members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Anyway, my point in this post is to share a few tidbits that I have learned about preparing and presenting the program for anyone on the world wide web who happens across this site.

1) Write the program early and set goals like two sections of the outline per week (if only I followed my own advice).

2) Keep it simple.

3) Before the first program practice, write a tentative seating chart that includes every child. Then, make copies and give them to each class teacher. When it came time for the kids to find their seats for the first time, I just had the teachers place their own children-- this was AMAZING. The 50+ kids in our ward were organized and seated in about 5 minutes (or less).

3) Make lots of extra copies of the actual program for teachers. Especially for the second practice-- they forget to bring their first copies.

4) Bring an extra copy of the program and some scissors that are just for kids who lost their part (then, put these in a gallon baggie). Just cup up the part for the kids who forget and put all the extra papers/ peices in the bag for the next kid who needs his/her part.

5) Let the Primary President sit up on the stand and you (counselor) sit in the audience. This allows the President to sit with the kids during practice and you can run around getting things done without having to go up and down off of the stand.

6) Write a part for the children who don't regularly attend and personally invite them to take part-- you never know who might show up. We also made a copy of the music on CD for the kids who might not be too familiar with the songs (when writing their part, just make it kindof redundant our outlining a similar principle as the child before him/her so their part will add to the program, but nothing is missed if they decide they don't want to take part).

Hope these are helpful to someone! Good luck with your program!

Mom Behaving Badly

Yesterday while picking up the kids from school, a friend commented that she was glad we (moms) didn't get report cards. Yes, I agree.

Lately, I feel like I could be the headliner for the latest tell-all video, "Moms Behaving Badly." Seriously, did my kids find the button? You know, the one that says, Push me and a tantrum will ensue. Why is it so easy for me to loose my cool when the kids start fighting? I seriously feel like I want to explode. I have pulled the car over twice this week and had a child get out-- and told them to find their own ride home. After about one second, I told them to get back in, but really-- isn't there another way?

My other failed attempt at controlling my temper was to tell the kids that I feel a monster growing inside of me that is about to explode-- that one doesn't scare them at all. The monster just rears its ugly face about thirty seconds after the warning.

Any tips on keeping your cool in times of trial? (by trial, I mean fighting, hitting, and whining of 5-year-olds).

Update from the good doctor

Well, I realized I haven't posted recently about D's crazy life in the burn unit. I won't say too much as catch up except D's escapades at work have lead him to turn down the water heater (way too low, I might add. Really hot showers are one of the things in life that bring me joy), hide the treadmill key from the kids (and me, too-- great excuse NOT to exercise), replace all the batteries in the smoke detectors, and have a heart-to-heart with the kids about matches (D: "What do you do if your friends are playing with matches?" Kids: "Run as fast as we can to get a grown up." D: "Do you ever play with matches?" Kids: "Never, ever."

Last night as D settled down to bed, he made the comment that he thought this might be his one night on home call that he might not get any pages during the night. "Everyone in the unit is looking good." Then about 10 minutes later, well into the snores, his pager went off.The wicked beep signalled no good. D jumped out of bed, grabbed the phone, and called the hospital. After a quick conversation, he angrily marched back into the bedroom and started changing out of his PJ's.

"Some idiot put dry ice on his legs for 3 hours."

"Why?" I asked.

"Who knows. He's probably a psych case."

And so it went. . . . .he spent all night taking care of the dude, and in the morning let me know that "Yes, he had some mental disorders." Fortunately, things were calm enough in the unit today that he was able to come home around noon (this was a real blessing). He is sleeping now-- dreaming of the strange and crazy things people can do to themselves.

Halloween Decor

This week as I was walking around Michael's, I stopped for a minute on an aisle of a Halloween villiage display. The thought entered my mind, "Oh, I am so excited to own all these things one day-- when D is finally making some real money. It would be so cool!"

Then I started looking closer at all the figurines-- there were ugly specters and demented ghosts, seriously gruesome demons, blood everywhere, and more evil-looking witches than I could count. Then I just had to laugh at myself. . . . I wanted all those disgusting things in my house!! I chuckled as I moved on. . . . "Oh, that skeleton is so cute." Cute. A Skeleton. Nice thinking, Camilla.

Don't you just love Halloweeen and the weirdness it brings out in us all? Isn't it funny that we will plunk down the dough to festively adorn our house with monsters-- the figments of our kid's nightmares? And who said being a mom wasn't fun. . . .

Random thoughts on a Wednesday

1) (Courtesy of Eliza at the zoo): What is that red hanging flab underneath a turkey's beak and why do turkeys have it?

The answer is a waddle (thanks Liz) and after an internet search I discovered that the turkey uses the waddle in 2 ways. One, it is a cooling device. When the weather is hot the turkey expands the waddle with blood so that it can cool down in the air. Second, it is part of a display. Depending on how the turkey feels it may show the waddle to its fullest and reddest or hide it totally.

2) Don't ever eat 2 FiberOne bars in one day if you have an important event in the evening in which gas would be an embarrassment (they are delicious and boast 9 grams of fiber. I like the caramel and chocolate chip ones best).

3) I really like the Barbie cartoon movies.

Disneyland 2008

What fun, fun, fun!!! D's siblings planned for the extended family to have a big family trip together this fall. Four of his five siblings were able to take a week off and we all headed to California.

I never went to Disneyland as a kid and was totally caught up in the magic. We swapped kid-watching so the adults could hit the rides the kids couldn't go on (HIGHLY SUGGESTED). I love roller coasters and could have gone on the California Screamin' all day. . . . . . .yeah, I think I'll be a roller coaster tester in the after-life.

Our favorite quotes of the trip came after we took the twins on Space Mountain. . . "That was wicked awesome, " and "I don't ever, ever want to do that again (said with anger)" Guess which twin went with which quote-- yep, it was Eliza who loved the coasters and Davis who wimped out on several. The only sad event was when we LOST ELIZA for about 15 minutes (We started walking, she didn't follow, then she freaked out and ran in opposite direction of the way in which we had walked (I might add we were like 20 feet away when we realized she wasn't with us). Someone found her and she was taken to a park employee who gave her fruit snacks and hugs. We found her before things got too panicky, fortunately --lesson: write your cell phone number and put it in your kid's pocket).

We dined with family and phoned each other from all over the park--I don't think I even saw the teens for more than an hour during the 3 days we were there. I'm hooked. We'll definitely be doing the Disneyland thing again.

Calling all Bloggers!

Hi friends, family, and anyone else in between: I am starting a new blog entitled Spritual Reflections Everyday. It will be a place for us to share spritual thoughts, insights or frustrations. I'd love to include anyone who would like to be an author. Just leave me a comment here or there and I'll invite you as an author.

http://spiritualreflectionseveryday.blogspot.com

Invite anyone you'd like!!

VACATION, AHHHH

Last week we finally left the house and went on vacation. It has been over a year since we went on a trip-- and it was needed, badly. Sometimes I think my husband feels he is superman and can handle anything life hands at him. But, it seems, even superman needs a break. It came at just the right time too. When D got back on Saturday he found out that the ED (emergency department) is dropping the burn unit of it's intern rotations and now D an the surgery intern are singlehandedly managing a bulging burn unit with 5 or 10 patients around the hospital because the unit ran out of beds--YIKES!

We hit St. George and Disneyland with D's family. IT WAS AMAZING!! I feel like a new woman. Pictures to follow when I find my camera cords. . . . .

Bringing back the checkbook

A few years ago, I actually wondered about the shelf life of the old-fashioned check book. I really felt like it was doomed for death in the next decade. Nowdays we are blessed with checkcards and automatic payments on our banks' webpage. It seems that paperless is the new order of our time.

But, in the last month I think I am singlehandedly keeping the checkbook companies alive. Since school started, I have brushed the dust off of the old fake leather book sitting in my desk. I think I've written more checks during the last 4 weeks than I did during the last 4 years-- hmm, there are school fees and fundraisers, then it was the book order, and yesterday was a check for school pictures.

So, I guess my hunch about checkbooks becoming extinct may not be quite on. . . . .

Random Question from a 5-year-old, 2

Davis, "Why is our skin white, but it is not really white?"

Random 5-yr-old Question of the Day

While loading into the car for our drive home from California, Davis asked, "Why are there bees in our world?"

Patriotic?

Vice-presidential nominee Jode Biden was quoted as saying that . . .paying higher taxes is a patriotic thing for wealthier Americans to do.

Last time I read about the founding of America, I remember reading a little part about a big tea party in Boston Harbor. . . . .I think the colonials were frustrated because they were being taxed too much? Let's get back to the ideals of our forefathers and stop thinking that big government is the answer for America. On the contrary, responsiblity and oversight--not a new government program for every ail in America-- is the answer to making America stronger and, ultimately, that is what will make us proud (patriotic) to be Americans

At least

Davis had his friend Seth over today. After a horribe night of sleep (or lack thereof) last night, I decided I "needed" a Diet Coke so I threw the kids into the car and drove up to the gas station for a 32 ouncer. I let the kids pick out a treat. The kids were sitting on the back steps and eating their sugary nightmares. Eliza stood up suddenly and very clumsily fell down a step where she landed on a bunch of hard toys. She immediately screamed out it pain-- think an extra loud scream for princess effect.

Davis--ever the empathatic twin-- didn't get up to help her. He didn't even flinch.

He did, however, mumble, "At least she's still alive."

To which Seth replied, "Yeah."

Neither boy missed a beat and promptly popped their face full of another bite.

Diaper Duty

I guess I was thinking about the crasser things in life today (see post below) and couldn't get this thought out of my head. Don't read it if you have a weak stomach.

Do any of you have friends that say, "I am not ready to have kids. Changing diapers really grosses me out." Yeah, I'd have to agree: diaper duty is probably one of the worst parts about babies and toddlers.

But there is good news: the grossness really sneaks up on you. Yes, for the first few months of life, your little baby's poop has virtually little to no odor. It is cute little yellow poop that basically looks like Grey Poupon (poupon, get it?). You don't even realize it is gross until the inevitable blow-out. For those of you who don't know, a blow-out occurs when by some will of anti-gravity, the babe's liquid yellow poop migrates up his/her back and covers most of the surface area of the babies' body. This is, of course, why onesies were invented. You see, the simple white and glorified leotard (with convenient snapping access at the bottom) holds in the blow-out thus allowing the parent to salvage cute pink and blue outfits that would otherwise be ruined.

Slowly, over time, the yellow and less offensive poop begins to morph-- is is less cute and becomes more brown. It's the really human, solid food that initates the transformation. Before you know it, your kid's diapers are stinky. You find yourself wiping someone else's brown bottom-- a task you never before thought you'd stoop to. But there is a bright side: remember that saying, "a face only a mother could love?" There is actually a parallel: "poop only a parent can tolerate." Yes, it's true. Though the poop is gross, somehow as a parent you become immune to it's overall disgustingness. If you are required to change another kid's diaper-- your gag reflex kicks in and you think this truly must be the worst poop on earth. Somehow, you find yourself analyzing the odor and color. Why is his poop so green (or orange or yellow or brown)? Are those raisins? Ugghhhh, what am I doing?

Yeah, somehow your kid's poopies are just not as bad as your friends' kids. You know that feeling when you walk into the library and some child has a messy? Inside you are thinking, "Why doesn't his mother go change him? He is contaminating the entire board book section with that offensive odor!" Contrast that response with yours when your child's stinky diaper doesn't seem so important to change. You are in the grocery store trying your hardest to get the shopping done in a half-hour. Your child's smell just doesn't seem that bad. . . . . . certainly not something to tackle before you hit the register.

So, for you people out there who can not fathom the thought of diaper duty in the future. I say, "cheer up!" Your kid's poop will smell better than everyone else's kids. Really, I am not kidding!! It is a physiological response to becoming a parent-- selective nostrils. That is, until, they are potty trained. Then, when they forget to flush and you walk into the bathroom, you will realize the full power of formerly inocuous odor.

Icky

Not that everyone wanted to know this, but today my food is traveling through my system like a rocket and exiting like a faucet. Bad image, I know.

I am having a bad day.

Run!

Last night I took the kids to a carnival at the school. There was the inevitable EMERGENCY! potty call from Davis. The full-fledged potty-dance, grab your crotch routine was the signal we needed the bathroom, and we needed it fast. Of course this meant a RUN FOR YOUR LIVES across the schoolyard and into the school. I would just like to say that I haven't sprinted in a while and it is actually really fun. Thanks, Davis, for reminded how fun it is to be a kid.

In Defense of Life AND Choice

I am slightly confused by the fact that many people categorize themselves as 'pro-choice' on the issue of abortion. I am 'pro-life,' but hate to be classified as someone who is against choice.

Let's just look at this for a moment: barring issues of incest or rape, most women who find themselves pregnant had sex--by their own choice. One of the consequences of sex is, hmmmmm, pregnancy (and STD's, I might add). Therefore, in my mind, any woman who is pregnant made her choice when she had sex. Yes, I know, a man was involved. But we aren't men. We are women. The choice has different consequences for us. But we are aware of what they are.

In life there are consequences to most choices we make: break the speed limit and you risk getting a ticket, don't pay your taxes and you risk a penalty or even jail-time, shop-lift and you risk getting a misdemeanor. All of these choices have consequences affixed--as long as you are caught. Most people would argue that even if you aren't caught while shoplifting, you still committed a crime-- you still RISKED the chance of being handed a misdemeanor. This is a simple principle. Even my children understand that if they turn on the T.V. before they do their chores, they lost all T.V. privileges for the day. If you choose to have sex, you choose the possible option of pregnancy.

So, why, with the invent of abortion (something that circumvents the natural consequence of sex) are people suddenly arguing that by denying abortions (to save a life, I might add) a woman's right to choose has been violated? I repeat: the woman chose to have sex, the consequence is pregnancy. Her choice has not been violated at all. Of course there are incidents of a woman's health during a risky pregnancy or an unwanted pregnancy due to rape-- these cases are different and could possibly require a different set of rules regarding abortions.

If you choose to have sex, you choose a possible pregnancy (even if you use contraceptives, we all know there is risk involved). That's just the way it is. Sorry, women if you had an OOPS and you got pregnant-- that is part of the responsibility of being a woman who has sex. Sorry that being pregnant is really uncomfortable-- but there are scores of families out there who will raise your baby in a heartbeat. Let the child you created live! I believe we created this own evil monster of abortion when women could have sex free and clear-- no consequences attached. Maybe sex woudn't be so rampant among teens if abortions weren't legalized. Maybe there would be less unwed mothers if they actually took sex seriously! Maybe there would be less delinquent kids walking around. Maybe, just maybe, we could return to a more moral, decent, and responsible society.

So, please, stop telling me I am against choice. I am for choice, 100% for choice (sorry if it isn't the choice that you were talking about).

addicted

While drawing this picture, Eliza commented, "I am addicted to drawing flowers and people."

(Dad just informed Eliza that mom was 'addicted' to soda. . . . I always wanted my daughter to follow in my footsteps-- I just didn't know addictions were the way I would pass on my legacy)

First Day of School

I guess our Kindergarten didn't get the memo about school starting last week, because Wednesday was the first day of school for the twins. . . . .WOOOO HOOOOO (did you hear fever pitch in my voice?)!!! After reading many friends' accounts of their children's first day, I am pretty sure I might be the only mom who is thrilled to send her children on.

I think I'd be lying if I said that I was mostly excited for them to go to school so they could experience the world around them and progress in life. Though this is partly true, I think most of my excitement comes from the fact that my kids will be doing these things on someone else's time-- yeah, that's right, I'm excited to have a few hours in the morning free of, "I'm bored,","Davis hit me,","Can I start a project," and the all time-favorite, "Can I play Wii?" I'm feeling the guilt about this reality because a group of ladies I overheard were waxing nostalgic about how sad they were that their little ones wouldn't be under their constant tutelage. . . . . Does this mean I am a slacker?

Before I am judged too harshly I would like to add that I do love being a mom!! I never knew how rewarding it would be, and I was actually a little afraid of how I would feel. . . .I didn't quite understand why parents got so gushy about things like a first tooth, their child walking around the kitchen island and playing peek-a-boo, or the first day of Kindergarten. I found it a little nauseating how, while sitting with a group of moms, the conversation always drifted towards their children's antics and/or misdeeds. I secretly wondered if I was cut out for motherhood.

After much thought, I realize what it is that makes all these milestones so special. As a mom, you literally nourish this life inside of you for 9 months-- without you, the life would die. People talk about falling in love like it is a magical thing that just, poof!, happens. But I think love is an actions word, which, at the core, is all about giving. The act of service towards someone else is what love is all about. Why do we fall in love? Because we serve another human beings needs. Nourishing this baby for months and months, with no expectations of receiving anything in return is what makes you love the child. You love them because you serve them, and they need you.

And so the baby is born and you do everything for them. . . . you literally spend all day, every day with them. They are so helpless-- again, they NEED you. Then, suddenly, one day they smile, or roll over, or walk, or talk, or dress themselves, or ride a bike, or sing. These milestones are developmental, so from a global perspective, they are nothing remarkable. We expect these things from humans! But, as a mother you've watched this child go from doing absolutely nothing on their own (except pooping, there's always poop), to doing these amazing things. You get to watch first-hand, on an individual basis how amazing the human race really is. This is a bond in service/love that can not be broken. Parenthood truly is a miracle. My empathy for people in general has increased-- I'm beginning to understand what a blessing each individual on earth truly is. My experience in learning to love unconditionally has grown. So, in the end, I guess it is our kid's who really are the ones that are serving us.

Here's the kids on our block that are starting school with Davis and Eliza:

A good deed. . . .OR a subtle message

You Decide 2008:

Yes, my dear husband is gone a lot serving the baser needs of mankind. In the meantime, I cheerfully (wink, wink) go about my daily tasks at home, keeping the house in running order. Yes, I am the perfect housewife: I cook, I clean, I launder, I apply bandages to ouchies, and, occasionally, even mow the lawn.

It is the lawn mowing thing that has me in a quandry. You see, 4 weeks ago D was talking to our great neighbor, Gordon. Andy has been caught several times mowing the lawn at night in the dark (which, I might add, I have also done), and was asking Gordon how much he pays for his lawns to be done. Gordon replied, "Oh, they are really cheap, only $25 a week." To which D replied, "Oh, okay."

Later that night he told me about lawn mowing and we both decided it wasn't really in our meager resident's budget to be spending $100 per month on a job we can technically do ourselves. I say 'technically,' because let's be real here: the lawns are getting mowed every 2 weeks at most-- or otherwise when the grass is so long it is starting to become an embarrassment.

Well, what do you know, but the week following Gordon's conversation with D, the lawn mowing dudes tackled our lawn-- courtesy of Gordon. We thanked him profusely, I baked him some goodies and thought to ourselves, "What a great guy." On the next Tuesday, they started on the lawn again. D was home (working nights at the point) and told them we do NOT want them to do our lawn. "But your neighbor paid for it." "Arghh," we are thinking, "that Gordon. Too nice for his own good." I called him and again thanked him but said, "Don't you ever do that again. We'll take care of it."

Yes, that warning didn't stop Gordon-- about 30 minutes ago I heard the gentle purr of the weed whacker-- in our yard--again (it's been 4 weeks now, lawns courtesy of Gordon). I am totally embarrassed. We really can't pay for the lawns to be done ourselves-- and Gordon keeps paying, still. Do I pay him back? Is he sending us a gentle message about the state of our yard, or just being a nice guy? YOU DECIDE.

do a good deed. . . hug your doctor

Holy cow! D has worked 5 AM- 8PM since Monday (on Wednesday he was home at 6:45, but on Thursday he didn't get home until midnight). Last night he was covering trauma call and the burn unit and didn't sleep a wink all night. He got home about 12:30 for lunch. . . . .then he tried to read to the kids (but pretty much fell asleep for a couple of hours). He settled down for bed an hour ago and DING!! the dreaded pager rings-- some man just had an industrial accident with sulfuric acid (who knows where he was working on a Sunday night?), so now he's headed out the door to the hospital. By my calculations, that is about 105+ hours at the hospital this week!

I am constantly blown away by the amount of work that is required by residents, doctors, and the like. Sometimes I get mad and say, "It's not fair. When do you get time off?" D replies, "If I don't help these people who is going to? There isn't anyone else."

I know doctors can be irritating, hurried, callous, or vague sometimes, but after watching D go through this, I just feel like we should give them a break-- they really have given so much of their life to others.

My vote: When you get a chance, thank your doctor for his hard work now, and the long hours he spent in training to get where he is . . . . maybe he'll/she'll appreciate it, IF he hasn't left the room to visit a different patient.

A Prayer in your Heart

Today in Primary, the counselor presenting Sharing Time asked the kids, "What does it mean to have a prayer in your heart?"

Eight-year-old Luke immediately replied, "It means you are always carrying around a spare."

Seriously?

Couldn't sleep last night so I caught a rerun of the Democratic National Convention. I am so sick of hearing politicians harp on each other. "I was right," "No I was right," "This administration. . . . blah, blah, blah."

I don't like to spend time with people who are constantly dwelling on the negative, so why would I ever want to vote for someone whose platform is riddled with comments about how terrible someone else is? Combine all this name calling with a bunch of puffed-up politicians patting themselves on the back and you have a recipe for me to change the channel.

For instance, I rolled my eyes when I heard this from Senator Biden: "For the last seven years the administration has failed to face the biggest, the biggest forces shaping this century: the emergence of Russia, China,India as great powers, the spread of lethal weapons, the shortage of the secure supplies of energy, food and water¸ the challenge of climate change, and the resurgence of fundamentalism."

Seriously, am I supposed to believe that Senator Biden has been thinking and planning to fix all these problems during the last seven years? He may not be a member of the current Executive branch, but as a US Senator, we haven't seen him come out strongly either (yes, the legislative branch has a 9% approval rating--even less than Bush and his old cronies). Few people were talking about Iran as a threat 5 years ago-- let alone Russia (remember, John Kerry was STUCK on the topic of Iraq and terrible place we had made it). Yes, perhaps the spread of lethal weapons has occurred in the last 7 years-- wasn't that the point about the war in Iraq (you know, to STOP the spread and use of lethal weapons (yes, yes, I know no WMD's were found, but please don't start on the war and what a mistake it was-- let's try dwelling on something that can be changed))? Yes, we are experiencing a shortage of supplies of energy--take oil, for example (last time I checked Bush got rid of the ban on offshore drilling-- don't tell me he hasn't addressed the issue whatsoever). And what in the world does the "resurgence of fundamentalism" mean? Tell me and we can decide if it is one of the biggest forces shaping our country!

How about a politician that sees a problem and instead of calling the other guy names, simply states the problem (quickly and without blame) and then provides a SOLUTION to the problem. How about a politician who is for REAL solutions-- not enigmatic promises for a better future? Give me some public SERVANTS that I can believe in.

I am quite convinced

that one part of eternal damnation would include endless ab workouts. Yuck!

Why don't things like THIS happen to me?

This is another reason why George Clooney is STILL one of the hottest men on earth. . . .

Back to School Blues and Embarrassing Moments, too!!

Since it is back to school time I felt it was appropriate to share one of my most embarrassing moments. And yes, you read that right, I said ONE of my most embarrassing moments. I have several. Here goes:

It was a lovely first-day-of-school on Westminster Campus (a great liberal arts college located here in SLC). I was excited for school to start-- it was my second semester teaching Clinical Microbiology so I felt like a lot of the leg-work for the class had been done the previous semester. A lot of my "new professor jitters" had been worked out and I was excited for a new class. I smoothly walked into class about 10 minutes early and several students were already sitting in their seats. A few looked up and watched me walk to the front of the classroom and boot up the computer and projector-- at this point I can see the questioning glances they send to each other, wondering if this little lady is their professor. You see, at 25 years old I am not the typical wrinkly-faced and boring science teacher. I have tried really hard to pick out a feminine, but professional dress and sweater-set-- hoping that my choice adds a few years to my age.

I quickly dispense with the before class banter, trying to assert my authority. "Great day outside, isn't it?" "Yeah, nice," a few people mutter.

"Are most of you pre-nursing students?" I ask.

"Yes," most everyone chimes in.

Some more students walk in. The students in front talk among themselves and ask me if I'm the teacher. "Yes, I am," is the quick reply.

The minutes tick by on the clock until, bing!, it is 10:00 A.M. and time to start class. I pride myself on starting class right on time. It is one of my 'things'.

"Alright, it is time to start. This is Clinical Microbiology or Biology 111, section 3, so hopefully you are all in the right place. I'm in the right place, aren't I?" A few people laugh, and I move on while passing out the syllabus. "This is a tough class and just because I'm a nice person doesn't mean that you won't have to work hard. Are there any questions?"

"How old are you?" I knew this one was coming.

"Twenty-five." I say.

There are a few murmurs and a woman says, "My son is your age!"

There are a few more questions relating to the course and the lab which they had to sign up for separately. After I explain the grading scheme and take care of the formalities, I boot up Power Point and get started with the lecture. This is college, classes actually mean something the first day.

About 20 minutes into the lecture, I realize there is a major problem: I have to go to the bathroom-- BADLY. This was 4 years ago, before Roger was born, and right in the middle of my exercise phase of life. I had gotten up at 6:00 A.M. that morning to run and had drunk a lot of water afterward. In the hustle and bustle to get dressed, the kids ready, and supplies gathered, I hadn't made it to the bathroom that morning. Now I was really feeling it. I look at the clock and it is 10:45. Class doesn't get out until 11:15. By this point in lecture I am dancing, yes dancing around-- not my regular, 'microbiology-is-cool' lecture dance, but a full fledged POTTY DANCE (picture your 4 year old watching their favorite T.V. program and they refuse to go to the bathroom).

After about 5 minutes, I give in. There is no way I can make it another 20 minutes. I figure that wetting my pants on the first day of class wouldn't be the kind of imporession that I want to make. I blurt out, "Okay, we're going to take a quick break. I've gotta go to the bathroom or you might witness your first college professor having an accident during lecture." A few people laugh and I high-tail in out of the room-- totally red. At this point I am wondering why I had to let them know why I was taking a break, but you know me, I can't keep anything a secret.

I relieve myself and walk back into class. I crack a joke about my potty dance lecture, and the students are laughing aloud now. We all have a private joke for the rest of the semester and sometimes I dance around the screen when it looks like someone is falling asleep during my riveting discussions. I never lived that one down, but I guess I should be happy that the students felt comfortable enough with me to joke a bit.

Thankfully, my 'potty' incident didn't show up on any of my evals at the end of the semester and the students were pretty generous--even though their 25-year-old teacher apparently had no control of her bladder!!

Week of the deadly B's: "buyer's remorse" and "bike bum"

Yes, I know you are thinking, "Hey, Camilla just used the words bike bum in her title!"

Yes, I know, I am dorky, but I finally found a way I can exercise with the kids: biking. The twins have learned to ride on 2 wheels this summer and are now getting confident enough that I can take them on the road with me. So, I've been loading Roger into the bike trailer and taking them out. I've never been real big on biking and I was painfully, yes painfully, reminded how sore a behind can get after a nice long ride (incidentally, sore bum is the reason I don't love biking). Anyone have any tips-- my tiny hiny (okay, not so tiny) needs your help.

On another note, D finally got his way and we got ahold of a Wii. I am experiencing an extreme case of buyer's remorse because I CAN NOT GET DAVIS TO STOP BUGGING ME ABOUT PLAYING--seriously he asked about 15 times during church today when we could go home so he could play. Why, oh why, did I give in? Two years ago I swore I would NEVER own a gaming system. I never imagined that I would be eating my words so soon. I am going to be setting some serious rules and limits tomorrow.

Curse those awful B's!

to dog or not to dog

I must confess, I am not an animal person. It isn't that I dislike animals, it's just that the hair and poop and barking and puking and drooling and meowing and sniffing get in the way of me ever really wanting a pet of my own. But, for the first time in my life, I can see myself as a dog owner--well, not really me as the dog owner, but Roger.

The little dude is OBSESSED with dogs and cats. He points them out at the park or across the street. Whenever the neighbor is out with his dog, Roger squeals in delight and runs across the street to say hello (fortunately there have been no cars and we are now aware that he will indeed take off if Greta (the dog) is in sight).

Well, my heart nearly melted this week when we visited a friend and Roger followed the cat around for a half-hour. This cat was so not cat-like--he let Roger touch his face and ears and he didn't run away when Roger laid on top of him to give him a hug. This family also has a few dogs--one is a rat terrier and one is that companion dog that you always see in the royal family paintings. I always thought I would be a big dog person-- but these little dogs were absolutely adorable. They weren't yappy or annoying and were very well behaved (usually that is NOT how I picture a small dog).

For the first time in my life I am actually picturing myself as a dog owner. When I hear D talk about his childhood dog with such fondness I can't help but picture my little Roger chasing a dog around the neighborhood. A dog just didn't fit with my other kids, but with Roger I can imagine it. Guess I'll have to sit on this one for awhile.

tough freecell game

For any of you freecell junkies out there, try game #10325 (assuming all computers are the same). It took me 4 tries to figure it out-- I was going to give up.

let down by the world wide web

I know, I know, I've got a serious case of Olympic fever as proven by this: I knew that the Women's Gymnastics Team Final was earlier in the morning so I was going to cheat and see who won, but after spending 30 minutes trying every search engine to see which team won, I am coming up with nothing. . . .guess I better go do something useful like, uh, watch my kids. Still, I am in shock that no one in the world has decided to spill the beans. The information superhighway is totally letting me down here. . . .

Man, I love

. . . . . watching the Olympics. I just watched the men's swimming 4 X 100 m relay, and I was seriously screaming when the Americans won. I just think it is so cool to watch people in so many sports who are at the top of their game. It's so inspiring to think of how hard they've worked. . . . but come to think of it, I feel that way after concerts, finishing a good book, and was even known to be in total awe after a professor's amazing research lecture. Human beings are so great. I'm so glad we're all different. I love being inspired by other people's greatness.

And now I'll be performing an Olympic task: folding my 5 baskets full of laundry-- hah, beat that!

perspective from a selfless five-year-old

Did I mention D is working nights (yes, several times, I know)? I can now officially say-- I HATE NIGHTS. He is supposed to be working 6 PM-6 AM-- but it is more like he rolls into the house around 9:00 A.M (6 days a week). He is exhausted when he gets home, goofs around with the kids for an hour, and then hits the bed for sleep. Do you know where this leaves me? TOTALLY NEGLECTED. I feel like my tank is running on fumes. What has finally done it to me is Roger. I think he's been sick for the last 10 days-- running a slight fever and running (that means his bowels). He has been so clingly and crying all day.

After braving the ward waterslide party last night (think carrying Roger around all over the pool while trying to help Davis and Eliza with towels, climbing up a gigantic inflatable shark to slide down and such), we got home late and exhausted. At about 1:00 A.M., Roger decided he was going to wake up and scream. I still don't know what the deal was--maybe an upset stomach? Anyway, at 7:45 A.M., he is awake and screaming. I am sitting in bed, hoping that D will walk in the door and rescue me and Roger-- but after 10 minutes, I finally drag myself out of bed to be greeted by the crying devil. He has now awoken the twins and everyone is hungry. Guess What? No cereal. No milk. No bread. And to top it off- the counters are covered with dirty dishes.

I snap. I give D the 911 page (emergency-answer right away!). And when he calls back I am half pleading-half yelling- half begging him to COME HOME!!! D begins to explain how rough his night was and I have no patience for it. I hang up on him. I tell the kids to get shoes on, we are going to the grocery store for doughnuts for breakfast. I am crying. Roger is crying.

As I pull out of the driveway, I say, "Guys, mommy needs to pray." I stop what I am doing and offer a quick prayer-- you know the kind whispered aloud to Heavenly Father complaining about your kids behavior in hopes they will hear your desperation (in other words, not really a prayer, but a complaining session-not a hint of the spirit in sight).

Then I pull out of the driveway. I am still crying, the twins are silent, and Roger is still screaming. I finally say, "Sometimes I wish Roger wasn't born so I could just be with you and give you the attention you deserve. I am a bad mom."

Davis acknowledges, "But, mom, we love Roger."

Then Eliza adds, "Mom, we will start Kindergarten soon, and you can be all by yourself and we won't bother you."

I felt like I just got punched in the gut. It is sad I got to a point where I needed my own little 5-year-olds to remind me that I wouldn't give up any of them for a moment of sanity. I was in awe at the selflessness Eliza showed by telling me she wouldn't be around to bug me soon. I felt like I just got a swift kick in the butt.

I apologized and amended my comments. I let them know that I love each of them-- even the screaming Roger and didn't want any of them to go away to school to give me more alone time. School was for them to learn about the world so they could be happy.

We got doughnuts and with some sugar in our systems, we all felt better. When I got home, D was home. He is now picking up fallen apricots with the kids outside and I am reflecting. Hopefully I can keep this all in perspective and realize that these hard times are fleeting. The kids will grow. Eventually Roger will talk and tell me what is wrong. Maybe through this residency journey I will learn to cool my temper better and handle these tough days. Here's to hope. . . . .

A tough night for Dr. Millar

D came home today a little discouraged (he's been on night float since July). First of all, he stopped off at the dentist to have two fillings (first appointment is 7:30 A.M.) so half of his face was numb. He was starving but was afraid to eat cause he thought he might bite his tongue or cheek-- man, having to see the dentist after a tough night-- just salt in the wound.

He had two laparoscopic appendectomies (lap-api's) that were really tough. He was operating with an older surgeon whose laparoscopic skills were not as polished or practiced (an old-school surgeon, so to speak). The first lap-api was a teen who had 'tough' anatomy. D could not navigate through his bowels and then ended up having to open him up to do a manual api. That frustrated him because he knew if his skills or experience with laparoscopic surgery were better (or the attending's) he might have been able to avoid cutting him open. The next appendectomy was a young mom who was at the hospital by herself cause her husband was home with the kids-- she couldn't get ahold of her mom. D felt bad for her. I guess they fire staples in some part of the surgery because D noted rather than the one staple which usually does the trick, she required more (6 or 7, I think) to close. He was worried that she might not heal as quickly-- which would just make life tougher for her in the following days. Again, he wasn't sure if the extra staples were something that could have been avoided.

I can only imagine how frustrating it must be to know that the one thing which you don't have-- experience-- is what prevents the most smooth outcomes. He is such a perfectionist and really struggles with this. The only thing that can cure inexperience is time, though. I tried to reassure him that I was sure someday he would someday be a great surgeon, but still, he worries. . . . .he's got a big legacy to live up to-- his father (a Duke-trained cardio-thoracic surgeon who has been asked to give training seminars around the world).

Such is life for a year 2 resident. . . . .

Title of "Favorite" goes to:

I know, I know all parents tell their children that they love them equally. I'm pretty sure I love my kids equally, but I have a dirty little secret: I have a favorite. Guess who it is?

If you guessed Davis or Eliza or Roger, you got it right.

I realized today that I cycle between liking one child more than another one. Sometimes my favorite earns the title due to an obedient act, sometimes it is a hug, kiss, or cute saying directed at yours truly. Sadly, I must admit, sometimes my favorite child is because they do something better than the other kid-- and I am not kidding (sadly, Davis passed his swimming level off, but Eliza didn't-- guess who I felt a little prouder of? Don't worry, he lost the title quickly when he took about 30 minutes to get shoes and socks on for church) Sometimes the title of 'Favorite' is more like 'Least Annoying.' To make matters worse, sometimes my favorite child on an outing is the one who looks the cutest or does something adorable that a stranger comments on(arghhh, pitiful or what?)

Do any of you other mom's out there feel like this, or am I totally the most wicked mom on earth?

The Fly

I think I have a fly that is following me around the house. Every time I stop somewhere-- it is there. It lands. . . . .It looks at me. . . . .I look at him. . . . . .I swat at it. . . . . .He nimbly escapes. I'm pretty sure he is laughing at me.

New Underwear

Davis is excited about his new spiderman underwear. Today after lunch, I came downstairs where he and a friend were playing the wretched Nintendo, and he had taken off his clothes (shirt and shorts). "Davis, why are you sitting around in your underwear?" I asked.

"Mom, I like wearing just my boxing shorts."

Guess what kind of underwear they are.

"This is the right place, move on."

Here in Utah, we celebrate Pioneer Day on July 24th--it is a state holiday. There is a big parade downtown, small parades all over the state, and fireworks galore. This is the day that commemorates the Pioneer arrival in the Salt Lake Valley in July of 1847.

My mother's ancestry is from the Southeastern part of the U.S. (her maiden name is Davis-- guess where my son got his name? Actually, we are related to Jefferson Davis (leader of the Confederate States-- what a pride, eh?) My Dad's ancestry, however, can be traced directly to the early Mormon Pioneers that crossed many grueling miles across plains of central United States and mountains to settle the western U.S.

In 1845, the beautiful settlement of Nauvoo, Illinois was experiencing difficulties. The Mormons had settled this swampy city and worked extremely hard to beautify the area-- to great success. The already existing surrounding settlements were resentful of the Mormon's success and disliked the huge influx of Mormon converts that had arrived in the city during preceding decade. Add the seemingly suspicious roots of the church-- Joseph Smith's testimony of golden plates (an ancient book written by the earlier inhabitants of the americas which was another testament of Christ) given to him by an angel, and people didn't have much respect for the Mormons-- well beyond the mainstream of traditional Christianity. They also disliked the fact that these new visitors voted as a block and were experiencing great financial success. The Mormons had previously been driven from their proserous settlements in Missouri and were now experiencing much animosity in Illinois. After Joseph Smith was marytred, the new leader of the church, Brigham Young, announced that it was time for the church members to settle far away, where they would be free to practice their religion in peace.

Opposition to the church had become so bad during the winter of 1845-46, Hundreds of Mormon homes were burned that winter in an effort to rid the territory of the Mormons. The extreme harrassment caused the peole to be driven from the city of Nauvoo during the bitter February of 1856. They crossed the huge Mississippi river on ice. The long trek across the cold plains of Iowa was grueling and cold-- many of the Mormons had left the city in such haste that they didn't have proper shoes, coats, or supplies. I marvel at their persistence. It was clear to Brigham Young that in order for his people to make the long exodus west, they would need to prepare better. During the summer and fall, the first group of pioneers worked to plant crops and shelter at Winter Quarters that could be used in the spring and a stop for the many people who would pass through. When things warmed up, the next spring, 1847, the first wagon train left. Most of the travelers could only bring one bucketful of supplies. They learned to be well organized and traveled in smaller groups and companies-- much like the military. They walked 10-15 miles every day, 6 days a week; on Sundays they rested. They suffered through wind and snow storms, dust from the wagon train, and extreme heat. All told, they traveled more than 600 miles. They traveled through Nebraska, Wyoming, and finally settled in the desert--Utah. During the next 20 years, the trails became the path of exodus for nearly 70,000 Pioneers. I honor their sacrifice and hard work.

This story is my legacy-- through my ancestry and because I am now a resident of Utah. When I was young, I didn't really think about how difficult the journey was and the sacrifices these people made. But as I've gotten older, I honor their commitment.

This year, my mom, little brother, the kids and I visited the "This is the Place Monument" at the mouth of Emigration Canyon which overlooks the city of Salt Lake. The view is AMAZING. It is said the when Brigham Young emerged from the canyon and took in the view of the valley he uttered these words, "This is the right place, move on." I think I would have said the same thing-- because I feel that way when I overlook the city. They have a monument there to honor the pioneers who died on the journey and it has become a historical landmark. Inside the heritage park, there is a VERY large pioneer city with repilicas of early pioneer homes, schools, churches, and such. On Pioneer Day, there were all sorts of guides dressed up in pioneer garb and told stories at the different landmarks about the way of life for the early settlers of the valley. It was a scorching hot day-- like 98 degrees and I was in awe that so many people lived and worked in such simple conditions. What hard workers!! I sure felt like a major wuss cause I was complaining about walking in the heat-- these people worked in it, and when they were done, they couldn't escape to a nice, air-conditioned home.

I took a few pictures, but my camera batteries died quick. Enjoy--and Happy Pioneer Day! Go PIONEERS!!!

Grandma helps Eliza walk on stilts.

Davis, Eliza and Uncle Chris pose with a young lady dressed as a pioneer in the theatre/church/school (multipurpose building)

Davis poses on the small, model train

Eliza poses in a small "play" cabin

"What's for Dinner?" "Corn."