messy me

I'm a Mess with a capital M.

But really, what can I expect?  The girls and I have spent 17 of the past 20 days away from home, having sooo much fun with cousins, and getting far too little sleep. As Courtney says, the kids have been on a 3 week bender. 

Like all things in nature, what goes up must eventually come down, eh?  Well, we're officially coming down.

As in crash, boom, bang.

My house is a wreck.

My remodeling project is upside-down.

My kids are a double-whammy-super-duper- MESS.

My patience is away on vacation.

My kitchen is a disaster.  Not the dishes-need-to-be-done-and-the-sinks-need-to-be-cleaned kind of a mess, but a real, live everything-needs-to-be-emptied-out-and-scrubbed-from-head-to-toe kind of mess.

My body sort of hurts. 

My clothes do not fit (and yes, I know that "Wow! I've popped out all of the sudden!, " so if you see me you don't really need to mention that).

I might be feeling just a little bit testy.

I cannot sleep.

If the cabinet man postpones our project one more day I'm going to kill him.  (Except we're not really ready for him anyway, but I can still be mad, right?)

I am not one bit ready for this baby to arrive (the nursery is stacked to the ceiling with remodeling junk, and the little guy doesn't have a darn thing to wear).  Except I don't think I can wait another day.

The windows are so dirty, we can barely see out.

Our closets are in need of a go-through.

School shopping is on the list.

The lambs are too fat (due to our neglect, I'm afraid).

Ryenne and Claire are having their tonsils out tomorrow and it's going to be fun, fun, fun.

I lost my temper this morning after the girls got in their forty-ninth fight of day.  Now Claire asks me every 10 seconds, "Are you a bad mom?"   In reply, I say that I try to be a good mom, but sometimes I'm not.  And then she looks at me with a serious look and repeats the question.  Just keeping me humble, I guess.

The garage is in such a state that it may need a stick of dynamite to resolve the issue.

Mostly, I really wanted to be ready for this baby.  I wanted to be organized and clean.  I wanted to get my projects done so I could sit back and relax when he gets here.  I wanted to spend my days doing special things with the girls, end the summer with a basket full of idealistic memories.  To put it simply, I just wanted my life to be in control.  Neat and orderly and put together.  I wanted to dot my i's and cross all my t's. 

(And yes, I know.  The baby won't care.  He won't even know the difference.  It's just this fantasy nesting thing I do when I get pregnant.)

It's crazy.  Consuming.   And a little bit unrealistic.  To be honest, I think I can be fair in blaming about 95% of it on hormones. 

But I still want it.



I know.  I'm being a whiner.

About nothing that really matters.

But it makes me feel better to write it down. 

And then I'll do better.

I'll be happy.

I'll smile.

Maybe I'll even laugh today.

And I'll remember that there is no such thing as being in control.  It doesn't exist for me anymore.

But my life will go on anyway.

My current messes will eventually morph into new ones.

My family will survive me, and we'll all grow a little in spite of ourselves.



And tonight, at the end of the day?

I'll get on my knees.

I'll thank my Heavenly Father for all of it. 

And I'll mean it.

dear valerie and girls,

Hope you made it back to Brooklyn safely.  Just wanted you to know how much fun we had with you when you came to visit. 

That afternoon will go down as one of the favorites of our summer!  Friends, swimsuits, and sprinklers. . .a perfect summer day!  It was so fun to watch our girls giggling and having fun together.  You are one of my dearest friends- I have so many fun memories of us together.  I'm hoping our girls can have the same sort of friendship.  Wouldn't that be wonderful?   

Oh, and Claire asks me frequently when "Violent" can come over again.  That's the name she calls Violet, and it makes me laugh every time.

Thanks again for the visit.  Can't wait 'til it happens again.  Who knows, maybe one day we can all pack up and head to NYC?  Enjoy the rest of your summer,

Kelly and girls

looking back: the day we found out baby was a mister

I was looking through some baby things the other day (the whole two items I have bought for baby boy), and came upon this little onesie.  It made me smile as I looked back at it's story. 

I understand why everyone thinks we kept having babies just to try and get our boy.  After all, it makes sense.  Girl, girl, girl, girl. . .and then a boy?  Of course everyone I meet is going to ask, "So you finally got that boy!" or "Now that you finally got that boy you can call 'er quits!"  Still, it makes me uneasy because although we are of course thrilled to be having a little boy, that definitely isn't the reason we had another baby.  Really?  By now I know pretty well how much work goes into this whole process of raising a child.  Being that our chances were only 50/50 (and actually less than that once you've got a streak going, according to the doctors), it seems kind of silly to me that we would keep having children until we got "that boy"!  '

So how did this come to be?  It sounds crazy now, but I started feeling like there was another little one for our family about. .. oh, a week or so after Claire was born.  You can bet how excited that made me.  For a while, I blamed it on the post-partum crazies.  However, the impression only got stronger and stronger.  She was only a few months old when, despite all my best efforts at convincing myself otherwise, I was sure that we were supposed to have another baby.  And soon! 

You should have seen the look on Courtney's face the first time (and every time thereafter) that we talked about it.

To put it mildly, it took a while to convince ourselves that this really was supposed to happen, and much longer before it actually did.  I have learned so much about receiving answers to prayers, recognising promptings, and maybe most importantly - trusting in those feelings.  Much of what we have experienced is personal and tucked away in our journals for us to remember. 

One thing we know for sure, this baby was meant to come to our family- and we can't wait to meet him.

So. . .once we found out we were expecting, you can bet we were looking forward to taking a peek to see what little person was so intent on joining us.  Courtney was sure it would be another girl, and kept assuring me that he was great with that!  For some reason, the whole drive there I was a nervous wreck. 

We were both shocked when the very first minute the ultrasound technician pulled up the screen she announced, "Well, there you go!  It's a boy!"  She didn't know about our four girls, so she didn't think a thing of it one way or another.  Us on the other hand?  We looked at each other and just started laughing. 

A boy?

Of course, we didn't quite believe her- although she was completely convinced.  It was so funny and surprising to see Courtney's face.   Such a different reaction than what I had expected.  I guess I had always imagined him jumping up and down or something if the day ever came when he found out he was getting a boy (although I don't know why- he's not really the jumping up and down type). 

As we left the office and went on to run a few errands and go to dinner, I couldn't quite read him.  For one, I don't think he believed it.  And two?  Well. . .I found out as the night went on.  After a while of driving, I finally burst out with, "I can't believe it!  I thought you'd be crazy with excitement and you seem so. . .well, so calm!"  To this, he started to explain how he suddenly had so much more to think about than he had before!  With the girls, he explained, he didn't feel so much pressure.  After all, weren't they kind of my domain. (I never noticed this, he's always been pretty involved).  Now, he was already feeling the need to step it up, after all, in his racing mind, raising a boy would be require a lot more involvement on his part.  I could see his concerns were mounting with every minute.

As we walked into Sportsman's Warehouse to run an errand, we walked over by the little boys clothing, something we'd obviously never done before.  Soon he burst out with, "And what if he doesn't like what I like?  Maybe he won't like football. . .What if he doesn't like the outdoors?. . .Maybe he won't even like to work with me. . ."  The list of worries was growing, and it had only been an hour. 

Our last stop was to run into Old Navy to get a little something to make the announcement to the girls.  They were staying with Courtney's parents and we had decided we'd buy some clothing, either boyish or girlish, wrap it up, and let them open it to tell them the big news.  They had been dying to know.  It was (and still is) so strange for me to look at boys clothes.  Out of habit, I seem to navigate to pink.  When we happened upon this little onesie that said, "Handsome. . .just like daddy", I knew we'd found the perfect thing!  As we strolled up to the counter, I finally laughed right out loud when we walked by a display in the junior boys department and Courtney burst out with, "See?  Like, what if he wants to wear skinny jeans?" 

Of all disasters he could conjure up, this was obviously one of the worst. 

The next day, Courtney could often be found pouring over ultrasound pictures, convinced that she had mistaken the umbilical cord for his you-know-what.  At each look, it became increasingly clear that he was indeed the boy kind.  The technicians would laugh that they were having a hard time getting a look at anything else because he was so proud to strut his stuff!

And with each peek, his Dad got more and more excited.  Finally, a month or so ago, he looked over at me as we were laying in bed and said in wonderment, "I can't believe we're really having a boy!" 

I can't either, but I sure can't wait to meet him.

And what did the girls think?  I wish we'd have had a camera when they opened up that little gift bag.  Squeals, squeals, and more squeals!  All week they had been telling us how they really wanted a brother, but chances were more likely that it would be a sister.  Like us, I think they would have been just as happy.  But a brother!  I guess none of us thought it would ever happen!

We're slowly getting into the blue mode.  It's only taken me about five trips to the fabric store to pick out something without flowers.  Luckily, Jodi (mom of five boys) was with me to kindly say, "Umm, that's a little girly".   Last week, I even happened upon a few little somethings to "man-up" the nursery, complete with a little vintage bulldozer.  You can bet his daddy was beaming at that. 

I don't know who is more excited.  Me, the girls, or their daddy.  One thing is for sure, I'm feeling a big 'ol sigh of relief!  Guess I'm off the hook this time.  For once, I think Mr. Everything-will-work-out-so-don't-worry-so-much-Daddy is worrying enough for the both of us.  I think I could get used to that.  It's looking like this is one birds-and-the-bees talk I'm not going to have to take care of.  My, my, my!. . . What will I do with all my time?

I'll guess I'll just spend it praying away the skinny jeans.

back on the farm

Last summer, the girls and I volunteered at the American West Heritage Center, on the historic 1917 farm site.  To say the girls loved it would be an understatement.  In fact, I think going back to the farm was one of the things they were looking forward to the most this summer.  So, once school was out, we started back at the farm, and the girls couldn't be happier about it.

(Ryenne with her ladybug friend on her hand.)

At the farm, the girls work in the garden, feed the chickens, gather eggs, milk the cow, and do butter-making and laundry demonstrations.  It's amazing how fun chores are when they are wearing old clothes.  Just the other day we were working around our house, when Ryenne asked me, "How come chores are so much more fun at the farm?"  I suggested maybe she could dress up to do her work at our house, but it still didn't seem to have the same appeal. 

It's so fun to watch the girls interact with the visitors and share all they have learned about life in 1917.  Along with all the chores, they also love to play a game of jacks or marbles in the farm house parlor, start a game of farm ball with the other kids, explore the other sites at the center (there is a pioneer site and an Indian/mountain man site), ride the train, go on a pony ride, and pan for gold down in the creek. 

And of course, eating lunch at the farm table with the rest of the volunteers is always a highlight.  Something about eating fresh farm food that has been cooked over a wood stove makes everything taste better!

I had to laugh when I was getting everyone rounded up to go home one hot afternoon and found Claire at the laundry tubs, taking a soak in the soapy water.  Leave it to Claire to find a way to cool herself down!

Ryenne loves to carry a tin pail with her to the farm, in which she packs a rag doll, a book, and a little blanket.  The other day I walked behind her as we walked from our car down the lane that leads to the farm.  Swinging her tin pail and dressed in her farm clothes, I could watch her transform into a little farm girl as she walked.  She is so, so happy at the farm.  Everyone keeps asking me why on earth I am taking the girls there this summer when I am eight months pregnant.  As I watched her walking and as I see the contentment and joy the girls find each week while we are there, I answer this question in my mind.  Why do we go to the farm this summer?  Because the girls love, love, love being little farm girls.  As long as they do, we'll keep going back!

Last week, we stopped off at Grandma and Grandpa's house to walk the lambs before going to the farm.  Grandpa snapped a few pictures and I had to laugh when I saw them.  The only thing that would appear more odd to city folk than some girls walking lambs down the street, would be ones walking lambs who look like they are Amish.  In Utah, nonetheless. 

It's looking like I'm raising myself a bunch of farm girls.  And they couldn't be happier about it.

"niner, niner, niner!"

We can't believe it!  Our Kater-Bug is NINE years old!

This year, Kate celebrated her birthday with traditional donut breakfast and presents in the morning.  What a great way to start off a big day!  She was excited to receive some cute clothes, a cute matching nightgown for her and her doll Emily, and a snorkel & mask to use at our upcoming trip to Lake Powell. 

Of course, no present-giving at our house would be complete without a "Heavy, heavy, hang over THY POOR HEAD. . ." (followed by a big "What do you wish with a BUMP on the head?"  (Courtesy of Grandpa Croney).

Kate and I made a trip to the grocery store where I was more than happy to let her pick out a store-bought birthday cake.  Usually, the girls put in an order for me to make, but I thought this sounded a little nicer.  Luckily, Kate was thrilled.  She picked out a chocolate cookies-and-cream version, and we asked them to write "Happy Birthday Kate!" in lime green letters (her favorite color).  After we bought the cake, she gave me hug and told me, "Mom, I love you more than words can say."  I'll buy a cake any day if I can hear sweet nothings like that!  (Statements like this are such a part of sweet Kate.  I can always count on hug, a kiss, and words of thank-you from her.  I love this about her. )

In the afternoon, we headed to Great Grandma and Grandpas little cabin in Idaho for their annual steak-fry.  Kate was excited to play with cousins and got her fair share of birthday wishes.  On the way home, we stopped at Grandpa and Grandma Jones' house for dinner and cake and ice cream. 

We love you so, so much Kate!  From those first days that I held you as a baby, your Dad and I could tell what a sweet, kind little spirit you had.  There is something so special, unique, and strong about you.  We admire you and are so proud of all you are and the good girl you are becoming.  We can't wait to see what you bring to life!  Love you so much!  Happy Birthday!

the girls outdo themselves to make mom smile

A few weeks ago, following dinner, I set to painting the new laundry room.  It wasn't quite bedtime, and so I asked the girls if they would watch Claire while I embarked upon my project.  They were happy to comply. 

Pretty soon, I could tell they were launching a great plan of some kind.  All of the hushed whispers and excited ordering around of younger sisters by the bigger girls gave them away.  But when I went to have a look-see?  I was banned from the kitchen/dining/living room.  This made me a little concerned, but my fears were met by a "Don't worry mom!  You're gonna love it.  We're planning something that is going to make you smile!"

Who can refuse an offer like that?

After I had finished the first coat and Daddy had gotten home, we were invited to the main event.  This is what we found at the grand entrance:

"Yeah, it's a party!"

". . .games!

. . .music!

. . .movie!

. . .popcorn!"

"Rules:

*10 cents to get in.

*don't pull anything down.

*be nice.

#1 RULE:

MUST HAVE FUN!"

"Games:

*Blind Mans Bluff

*Four Corners

*Limbo"

The signs were hung throughout the kitchen.  After we had become familiar with the schedule event and the rules of engagement (a must for any party), we were led to the main event.  And oh!  What to our wondering eyes did appear, but the fanciest of festivities to ever take shape in our little 'ol living room. 

The pictures just don't do it justice, but let me tell what exactly went into this little menagerie:

-every inch of every spool of ribbon that I own owned.

-an entire roll of green painting masking tape.

-hanging lantern leftover from Shawn and Kelsey's wedding (which had somehow been found in the recesses of our garage).

-a big 'ol bowl of popcorn

Once my ever-benevolent husband paid my ten cent entry fee, we were led through the be-ribboned curtain into the party room, where we played a multitude of party games as promised, followed by a movie (The Sound of Music, my favorite), and popcorn. Unfortunately, I had to bow out a little early to finish my painting project, but was mighty impressed with the ginormous effort my little party planners had infused into the whole event. 

Just as promised, the whole thing did make me smile.

And as for the party girls?  The celebration (and all of it's subsequent planning) made for a whole lot of sweet dreams.

it's summmmma-time!

I was just remembering this morning about when Emmy was born.  Her middle name is summer, and when we brought her home Kate would walk around talking to and about "Emmmmmy Summmmma".  Anyway, the memory made me smile.

So, this morning Courtney and the gals are headed out camping to none other that the infamous George Creek (aka: the middle of nowhere).  The girls are excited beyond belief.  George Creek means summer.  It means endless exploring with the cousins, playing in the creek, four-wheeler rides, mud and dirt galore, and s'mores.  I can't go because of another commitment, so Courtney is going at it alone.  Good guy, he is.

He and I were laughing the other day about a George Creek story.  A few years ago, we went out west and realized we weren't the only ones who were visiting.  There were mormon crickets.  EVERYWHERE.  It felt akin to the pioneer infestation of 1840. . .whatever that year was.  Ryenne was just a young chick, and she was a bit grossed out/enamored by them.  The best part was that she kept hearing us call them "mormon crickets", and in her mind it came out as just plain 'ol "Mormons"!  She and her cousins spent their days chasing/running away from all the "mormons".  The best moment was when we were climbing into our tent one night and she shined the flashlight up on the tent.  She instantly saw a great big cricket hanging out above our heads, to which she quickly shouted, "Oh No!  There's another freakin' mormon!"  We still laugh about that.

In other news, we've been walking lambs this week.  The Stosich boys have been at Grandma's house, and so we hauled those city boys with us to walk our critters.  Mostly, they were quite impressed.  Kye is pretty sure he wants to own a farm someday.  Kate was dragged by her lamb, which tells me we're back in business.  That happens every year.  More than once.  After a few days of Emmy's "Mary Had A Little Lamb" feeling quite contrary, she actually walked yesterday too.  Kadin was a little grossed out when one of the lambs, um. . . .as he put it "shared the love" with him (ie:  got sheep doo-doo all over his shorts).  Kye wondered aloud what was up with the "goat he was walking," and when the girls assured him it was a lamb, not a goat, he said they were all pretty much the same anyway.  (A few minutes later, he asked why it was Moo-ing so much, so we're thinking he ought to wait a little while before he jumps into the whole farming business).  Oh, and Ryenne's lamb?  Walks like a charm.  That's a first.  Hallelujah.

The rest of our days have been spent at swimming lessons, volunteering at the farm, slave-working the girls, and sewing fun things for Mr. Baby Boy (we have a name picked out, by the way, but I'll talk about that later).  Popsicles, sprinklers, and lazy movie afternoons fill in the gaps. 

Last night, the girls joined all the Croney cousins at Grandma's for the annual 4th of July weekend all-night Night Game Night (hmmm, maybe I could think of a way to write the word "night" one more time in that sentence!).  This activity is provided by none other that party animal Aunt Kerri.  Can I just say that this sister is the same one who fell off her roof last winter, broke her arm in a gazillion places, three or four ribs, and her pelvis in four?  She spent a month in a rehab center, was in a wheelchair for a time, and is now back in the night game business.  It would suprise you if you didn't know her, but it doesn't phase me.  She is so much more of a fun aunt than me, which isn't very hard, but still.  Anyway, the girls will be tired today and satisfied that they accomplished another summer tradition.  I didn't help at all.  I went to bed (and that doesn't suprise anyone).  I'll just add that I'm going to Lake Powell with Kerri in a few days and I'm very afraid.  She's got mucho-mucho energy.  I have none.  I guess we'll make a great pair. 

So.  It's now July and I've updated our days a little.  Pictures to come. 

I love, love, love summertime.  (Oh, and baby boy does too.  He kicks me all the time just to let me know how much fun he's having.)