Buster Blue Eyes

Here is an update on our sweet screamer, Hudson.

He is a crazy monkey. He and Leah are learning to get along better every day that their older siblings are gone. Which is good, since they were really getting on each other's nerves.

Hudson runs everywhere. It's funny to watch him since he runs so funny. I'm not sure what it is, but he doesn't quite get his arms into the motion. He looks just like those old clips of Babe Ruth running the bases that kind of look like they are on fast forward, but they really aren't. He just has short legs and his arms are a little wacky.

When he eats, he still eats just like he did when he was tiny. He sticks his tongue all the way out to get a bite. He does this for everything. Want a drink? Out comes the tongue. Want a bite of peaches? He opens wide and unfurls the welcome mat.

My favorite thing about him is his hair. I will NOT cut it. I refuse. I have never had a curly haired baby before, and I'm going to enjoy it as long as I can. When we do his hair, it looks really great and I am justified in my refusal to let any cutting instrument anywhere near his lovely locks.

But most of the time, we don't do his hair. This is when his dad screams for the barber. I understand, since he looks like this more days than not.

We sure love our Doc Hudson. He is too, too much fun. His squeals, growls, funny faces, and oh so nice leg hugs make our day. Now, if I can just get him to say mom, I'd like him that much more.

Couldn't Have Asked For Better

News from Dr. Akerley and my boyfriend with the voice drenched in honey, Terry:

The scan was reported as a "Perfect Scan". Woot, woot!! Dr. Akerley said "I couldn't have asked for better". And that is when the chorus of angels started in with the "AAAHHHHH!!!"

There is no change from her last scan. Her lungs apparently were duly punished in the last chemo round; enough to remember what they had done and stop doing it.

Lovely mamacita is maintaining, and getting healthier and healthier by every wonderful minute. She is even doing so well that she gets to skip a Dr. visit next time. She will go in for her maintenance meds, but won't have to see Dr. Akerley at all for 6 weeks. Also - no scans for 8-9 weeks! Take that, CT smoothie!!!

Thanks for all the heartfelt messages of love and support. My family is surrounded by such amazing and loving people. It makes everything so much easier, and we know we are incredibly lucky and so wonderfully blessed. I'll make sure to keep the good news coming.

Tuesday Is A BIG Day

Hello all you lovely friends and family,


Mom is having a big day on Tuesday, August 25th. It is her first chest CT since being given a chemo break. This will tell us if her lungs have been good little lungs and kept those nasty tumors at bay, or if her lungs have been bad little lungs and need another dose of corporal chemo punishment.

If you would keep her in your thoughts and prayers this day, I'm sure she will be able to feel it. If nothing else, it will help her get her pre-CT smoothie down (I hear that stuff is gross).


We are so, so grateful for you all - it cannot be expressed. We just thank and thank the heavens above, then take a deep breath, and thank and thank some more.

Results to come on Thursday. I'll keep you posted.


Much love,

Robyn

Idle Hands and Quiet Children

Here's an update for you, Bo. Happy?

As Leah, Hudson and I have been spending more time together we have also been draining the house of all sugar filled beverages. This meant a parched trip to the lovely Smith's down the street to refill our pantry. We bought 2 different colors of Kool-Aid (which is never chosen by the flavor - only the color), 3 tubes of 5 calorie Crystal Lites for mom, and a giant container of powdered pink lemonade. I thought this would last us for at least a day or two.

Later that day, while clicking Hudson's fingers (a task I find myself doing about every 7 hours lately) I noticed how quiet it was in the house. This always presents two choices. Do I

a: go and find out what is going on to make the house become so quiet, or

b: enjoy the quiet for a few more minutes and then later deal with the inevitable mess that was being concocted during the quiet?

I decide to finish up with Hudson's mani/peti and let the quiet continue for a few more minutes.

You know the results, don't you?

I wander into the kitchen and find that Leah has emptied almost the entire contents of the days grocery store purchase into 1 pitcher (I managed to get to her before she opened up the lemonade). She has then added about 8 inches of water and is trying to stir together her brew. There is powder and dust everywhere. All of this happened in the time it took to trim Hudson's surprisingly cooperative nails. A new world record!!!

I take Leah and Hudson and put them in the tub while I try clean up the most fun mess we have made in the kitchen so far. It is days after and still when I am wiping something up off the floor, the washcloth turns red.

Do you think it ends there? Aren't you so funny. While Leah and Hudson are in the tub, I notice that it is very quiet in there as well. This time, I know better than to just let it go. I drop the mop and go to see what is going on in the bathroom. That is where the smell of an ENTIRE box of bath beads hits me in the face. I see that the two smallest monkeys are bathing in what has to be the consistency of jell-o, since Leah has poured all 24 oz. (or 1 1/2 pounds) of her bath salts into her now hot pink water.

This earned our non-napper Leah a much needed late afternoon nap. Much needed for her, and much needed for mom.

If anyone is thirsty, our fridge is now stocked with 3 pitchers, 2 emptied out 2 liter Fresca bottles, and a big mixing bowl of "Leah's Fruit Punch Surprise". We'd love to share.

Stew Pit Week In Review

We survived, I guess. It's still no fun, though. No. fun. at. all.

We started a tradition last year when Abigail had her first (gasp!) Mr. teacher. When I dropped her off for her first day of raising her hand and saying "Mr....?" she was practically in tears. I couldn't stand the thought of it. I knew that it wouldn't be wise to stand outside the door all day to observe (or spy, whatever). The 3 kids strapped into the stroller wouldn't tolerate that (Harrison didn't start kindergarten for another week). So, we did the next best thing. We showed up for lunch. I just had to be with her for a minute to see how she was surviving the un-mushy, un-fancy roomed Mr. teacher. We picked up fish at Arctic Circle (the favorite meal of my Abigail) and met her in the lunch room. It turned out that she was just fine and, although Mr. teacher wasn't super warm or, um, feminine, he was funny, and that made her transition easier.

So, this year, I continued with that thought. For Abigail, we brought McDonald's. We talked in the lunch room amid all the lights turning off (our lunch lady's way of getting the students attention for announcements. I thought it was annoying) and I found out that she is doing great. Her new Mrs. (hooray!) teacher is right up Abigail's alley. In fact, Abigail is thriving in this new class. She is staying on task and loving coming home to do her reading and be able to check everything off in the homework category in her student planner. After our lunch, she says that we don't have to come onto the playground with her, she is just fine. If only her mom was as brave and strong a girl as she is.

The next day, (Harrison's first real day) we met Harrison at the lunch room doors. He was excited to see us there. I always send the kids with a lunch on that day, just in case, but then we show up with something they really want. This ended up being a really great thing.

Harrison's class approaches the lunch room, with his teacher giving instructions all the way. "If you brought your lunch from home, stand in this line here. If you picked choice 1, stand here. If you picked choice 2, line up over on this side". Then they were released to sit at the assigned first grade tables. That is when I noticed a little boy in the cold lunch line who didn't have a lunch. "Did you pick chicken nuggets? They are going that way" I said, trying to be helpful. "I picked cold lunch" he said quietly. "Do you have your lunch?" I asked. "I left it at home" he said. So, so sad. That is when Harrison piped up. "I have 2 lunches!! My mom brought me another one!! We can share with you! We have extra!" he said excitedly. Harrison's new friend, Gavin, ate the chicken nuggets we brought, and the cookies that Harrison brought. Harrison ate his PB&J and the apples from the Happy Meal. Perfect. The 2 little ones and I were invited to join our Big Brother on the playground. That was nice. Then, when it was time to go in, he said "can you come back for my next recess? Pleeeeaaaasssseeee?" Oh, I wish I could. I really, really wish I could.

Things have been okay since their first days. Harrison still stands back with me and the stroller brigade instead of lining up with his class in the morning. That first bell that sends him on his way is such a downer. Every morning he still asks me "Are you gonna bring me lunch today?" Sigh. Heavy, heavy sigh.

Leah asks about every 27 minutes if the kids are coming home. She runs out the front door and over to the corner to see if they are approaching. When she comes back in, I always tell her it's still going to be awhile. But, 27 minutes later, she is asking again. I know it's 27 minutes because I'm checking the clock myself, trying to speed it up to get those kids home sooner.

Abigail is off and running. She loves her teacher and loves her class and is up before me most days. Is it that time already? Does she really not need me to help her through her day already? Isn't "independent" a word saved for, I don't know, adults and not 9 year olds? I guess I knew it would come eventually. I wish I were more prepared for it, though.

When the 2 bigguns come home, it's a party at our house. Hudson screams with delight, and I feel myself doing the same. Leah excitedly fills her siblings in on what they missed at home during the day, and her big brother and sister excitedly fill her in on what they did while they were gone. Our usual rule is that homework has to happen right as they come home; we want to get it out of the way and make sure we have all the time we need to get it finished. But I have been having a difficult time of enforcing that one. Everyone is just too, too excited to be together. It really does a mom's heart good to see that. I rejoice.

We press on. Labor day - I can do this until Labor day! I can, I can!

Stew Pit

We have relatively mild language around here, as it should be I guess. Even though the antics of 4 growing, crazy monkeys sometimes warrants 4 letter word responses, we try our darndest (or is it dangdest?) to refrain. We have even outlawed certain other words that are just not nice in general. Words like stupid and hate, for example. Unfortunately today, these are the only words that come to mind.


School started today for us. School is stupid. I hate school. No, really. I HATE school and I think it is really, really STUPID.

Especially this year. This year has been a kicker for me. Harrison is now in first grade, which means all. day. long. Morning at school, lunch at school, and not being done with school until late afternoon.

It's been hard with both kids. But now as I come home with only 2 of the 4 chickies I woke up with, my sadness increases exponentially. When dropping them off at preschool, I cried in the car. When leaving them at kindergarten, I shed more than a few tears in the hallway. And now, as the daily population at home has been mercilessly cut in half (a little dramatic, I know), I quietly sob the whole walk home.


I miss them like crazy. Every single moment they are gone.


Abigail starts to feel nervous the night before the first day, and even more so the night before the second day. By the time she falls asleep though, she is feeling better. She approaches her new class with just a little trepidation, but once we get inside the school she's good and doesn't need me to accompany her into the classroom anymore. Harrison puts on a brave and excited face during the whole getting ready process, but at the very last minute feels the panic. While we were waiting in line today to go into class he turned to me and said "can't you come in with me, mom? I just want you to come with me. " To which I replied "I can't this time, buddy. But you are going to do just great". Ugh. My heart shattered right there on the sidewalk in front of the first grade door. I took off my glasses and did the old pretend to rub my face/really wiping tears trick that never fools anyone.

And this is when the questions and worries start to plague me. Have I done enough for them while they were in my constant daily care? Did I pack their days with enough fun, love, and good memories to sustain them while they are gone? Did I take enough advantage of the time when they were little and I had them all to myself? Have I taught them enough about themselves and the gospel to keep them strong in the face of all these new challenges? You know, the ones that I can't be there to help them navigate. Is it ever really enough? Really?

There were a few of those moms there today that I just send the stink eye to. As soon as all these little tiny kids were inside, they threw their arms into the air and shouted for joy. Seriously. I don't get that at all. The day that all of my guys are in school all day will be so lonely. Sure, I will be able to get a bunch of stuff done during the day, but that's the stuff I really don't want to do anyway. The only really fun stuff involves people who are a whole lot shorter than me.

I know that I have to let them grow and do things on their own. It's good for them, and I know this. But just like immunizations and visits to the dentist, it hurts. I think me more than them. So, we just press on. It reminds me to cherish every moment I have with them, and to do more with the time I have. I have to do my best with what I've got and when I've got them. When they want a cold lunch I'll make sure to put in a note that reminds them of how smart, talented, and fun they are, and how much I can't wait to see them. Plus, I'll fill it with only one healthy thing and the rest just treats and things they really like. Today, Leah and I will read every single book that she has on her bookshelf, and I will rock Hudson until he falls asleep in my arms. And we will be so excited when Abigail and Harrison are done with school, and will probably run up to them as soon as we see a glimpse of their cute little faces at the school doors. I'm sure they'll both have something very exciting and new to tell us. We'll be all ears. I can't wait.


5 weeks, and 4 more days until they are off track, and counting.

Mom License - Rejected!

So, I knew that I was really, REALLY late in scheduling Hudson's 1 year doctor visit. Yes, I can see you scrolling down to see when he actually turned 1 and how long it has been. Let me save you the trouble. He turned 1 in March. It is now the end of July. Yes, I know, he is in fact a little bit older than 1 year old. I know, I know. But doctor visits, especially well child checkups, and especially during ANY type of outbreak (cold, flu, chicken pox, H1 whatever) are not a high priority. So sue me. When I finally got him scheduled for his checkup, I patted myself on the back and went on with herding the chickens, I mean children.

The day came for him to visit our wonderful and sweet pediatrician, Dr. Brasher. Carolyn, his nurse, came in first to do the initial measurements. Then she pulled up his chart and there was a moment of quiet and confusion. "Did you bring his immunization card?" Why, yes, I certainly did! I am such a prepared and fantastic mom! Go on, admire me! Then Carolyn said "I thought our records were wrong. Your card is the same as what I show here. He has not received any of his immunizations since his 6 month shots."

Huh? I know I'm bad at doctor visits, but am I really THAT bad? Apparently so. That is when Dr. Brasher came in and reviewed all the measurements, nutrition, and safety information pertaining to a TWELVE MONTH OLD. He knows Hudson is older than this. He really knows that Hudson is older than 6 months, but he is trying to be nice.

Then he starts adding up all the shots that we are behind and tells me "he needs 8 immunizations today to catch him up." and then he waits for all the guilt to knock me over. At this point I start shamefully apologizing to my little guy. "We can combine a couple of them so that he is only getting 6 pokes today. But, you need to schedule him for another appointment in 6 months to complete the series". I nod in complete submission and give Hudson another guilt ridden kiss.

And then it happened. He asked me to surrender my mother licence. He puts me on probation and sternly tells me that if, in the next 6 months, any one of the kids cross the street without looking both ways, if they venture any further than the front porch without shoes on, if they leave the house without their hair done, clothes on right sided and matching, or in church shoes with white socks, I may lose it permanently. All this with a disappointed expression and a finger waving in my face. Of course this may have just been my guilty conscience reprimanding me like Jimminy Cricket, but I swear I heard the good doctor say it.

Then Hudson is pinned down by the best mother in the world, and I assist Carolyn while she pokes him 2 times in each leg, and once in each arm. He sits up on the bed and starts to rub his own biceps while crying with a look on his face that seemed to say "See Lady?!? This is why I won't say mama!!". As if the guilt couldn't get any worse.

We bolted out of there as fast as we could, what with me hanging my head and all. I took him and all of the siblings out for lunch with dad, and then to the Bean Museum as an apology. Hudson seemed to accept it. Especially when I bought him a stuffed lion to hold while walking through the animals. It was the least I could do.

And that next appointment? I'll call and schedule that really soon. I promise. We just have to get through the first days of school, and then after piano lessons, and then... and then....

It Was Awesome Again - Attempt #2

I am so gluttin'. For punishment, that is.

We decided to give the ol' camping another go. We made plans with some of my absolutely favorite people on this great green earth; our neighbors, the Christensen's. They are wonderful and the only thing I can find wrong with them is that they don't live close enough. They live across the street from us, as opposed to next door. You see their weakness.

The thinking was that we could do just a close to home overnighter. Lisa is my kind of camper. She likes to be able to see the city from the campsite, and she is deathly afraid of bears so we don't go very high up into the "nature". Perfect. Plus, she is fascinating and amazingly interesting. I love to discuss anything with her. I could listen to her describe her girls' shoes, and come away thinking that they probably have the most intelligent shoes ever. I'm betting that with her around, this camping trip just might change my opinion on the topic of roughin' it.

They make the arrangements for Hobblecreek Canyon, about 45 minutes from our house. We load up and take off on time, which constitutes a camping miracle in and of itself. Maybe this time will be better! Maybe it will be fun!! Maybe Lisa is my personal camping angel!!! We start the drive and stop in Springville for a directional pow-wow.


This is when the camping trip fell back into the awesome category.


Harrison tells us that his stomach hurts and immediately takes off his seat belt to get out of the car. We make it to a gas station trash can (eww) where he empties the contents of his belly. Nice. We are thinking and hoping out loud that this is just an episode of carsickness - never mind that Harrison has never gotten carsick in his entire life. Lisa and I go inside the convenience store; she for a caffeine fix, me for a bunch of the biggest cups they have to use as impromptu puke pails, just in case. I will never look at those giant cups the same.

We successfully make it to the campsite which is definitely the best one in the campground. It was secluded, had nice tables and a fire pit, and was placed right on the edge of a lovely stream. Beautiful. We tried to soak up all the fresh air and the sound of the rushing water, all the while Harrison was sitting on the ground clutching his stomach. When he used the last of his barf buckets, I made the decision to take the boys home, much to Harrison's dismay. "No, mom. I feel much better" he said as his face drained of all color. "I don't want to leave Grace and Brynn. I'll be just fine". Good times. No, really. Good times.

The drive home was okay. He fell asleep before we had traveled half a mile from the campsite. He only threw up two more times in the car, and then we were home. He and his pale little face collapsed into my bed, and there we rested while Jeb and the girls slept in the tent. Me and Mr. Pukey, or Jeb and the tent. I still haven't decided who had the worst end of the stick.

When we woke up the next morning, Harrison was feeling much better. Just one of those little bugs, I guess. We loaded up the car, again, and went back up the mountain to get the rest of our clan. We had breakfast up with the group and even managed a small hike. It ended up being really pleasant.

I did miss out on the adult late night fireside discussions, but hopefully there will be more of those later on. That's right. I just hoped for another go at camping. Maybe I'm getting used to all the awesomeness. Maybe.

Look! Up In The Sky!

Faster than a metastasizing cancer cell! Stronger than chemotherapy side effects! Able to leap tall IV poles in a single bound! Braver than, well anyone I've ever known. It's.........

SUPER MOM!!!

Post chemo CT results are in! All the small tumors are (I'd say magically, but it isn't magically. She worked too hard to say magically) miraculously (yeah, that's better) GONE!! The ones that were bigger to start with are now incredibly small, and decreasing in size as I type.

She is now on a chemo furlough. A hair sprouting vacation. And seriously folks, can you think of anyone who deserves that more? Go on. I dare you to try.

Our super hero will still have to visit the Grand Vista Huntsman every 3 weeks to receive a blood vessel blocker and a bone strengthener (which I think is totally wasted. How much tougher can they make this woman?). She will continue to have testing every 9 weeks or so.

Super mom is gaining strength by the minute. If you thought she looked good 3 weeks ago at her last chemo session, you should see her now. Radiant comes to mind. As does vibrant, glowing (the fuzz on her head seriously gives her a halo; as if she really needed one), and as always amazingly inspiring. Super good job, super mom. You are our hero.

It Was Awesome

I must first begin this post with an explanation; a definition if you will. The word Awesome. I do not use this word in the conventional Utah way. I use it in my husband's absolute favorite way: brimming with sarcasm. So much sarcasm in fact, that my use of the word comes to mean the exact opposite. Let me give you some examples:

My neighbors barking dogs are awesome.

Hudson has this awesome scream that I love.

John-Erik thinks my extreme use of sarcasm is my most awesome trait.

See how it works? Let us begin...

So me and my awesome hair (there it is!) had a birthday last week. And, a little while ago, I consented to this awesome idea of going on a camping road trip which just so happened to coincide with that day.

Now, let me tell you. I don't really enjoy camping. I could really say that I DISlike camping. Intensely. Some things about camping are super yuck. Actually, most of it. Camping is right up there in awesome point value with some of my other favorites - babies crying in their car seats for hours on end, kids who are uncooperative and ill behaved, and cars that break down at the most inopportune time. Was that sentence loaded with foreshadowing? Are you intrigued now? Read on, dear friend! Read on!

I have to admit that my attitude was awesome. It was completely in the toilet, in fact, in regards to this trip. If I have ever done anything "for the kids" this was it. I was scoring mother points in heaven left and right on this one, I tell you.

We began packing Friday morning. Abigail kept bringing me her brand new clothes, most of which were white, beige, and/or still had their tags on them. Then she became all sassy pants when I patiently told her to get old clothes that could be ruined by camping. It was a back and forth battle of wills all morning. Awesome event #1.

We made it out by Friday afternoon to go and pick up our good friend, Ryan. He completes our anti-polygamous family as our brother-husband. I know, I am a lucky girl. You are so jealous. Don't deny it. We stopped at WalMart to gather supplies, and away we went to Bryce Canyon.

We thought we had it timed that we could leave just as Hudson was going to need a nap, so he would sleep in the car on the way down. That worked for all of about 23 minutes. By the time we got to Provo (which was our first potty stop. That's right- 23 minutes into our trip we stopped for the bathroom) he was awake. And mad. Really mad. His car seat became his mortal enemy, and he had to voice that loudly and continuously. With every mile that ticked away, his face became redder and redder. Poor Ryan. He is not used to the wails of Hudson. The rest of us have learned to try and tune him out, but Ryan's untrained ears had to suffer, I'm afraid. Awesome event #2.

We made it to Panguitch and Ryan treated us to a wonderful pizza dinner. The pizza was huge and filled our stomachs and refreshed my will to live. We could make it to the campsite! We could! And, hopefully (fingers crossed) before dark. No such luck. All the potty breaks and the late start cost us the daylight and Ryan and Jeb had to struggle to get things together for my whiny self and the 4 equally whiny kids in the dark. How they managed, I will never know. We slept just fine (except for Jeb, since I didn't blow up a mattress for him - that'll teach him!!) once we managed to wrestle Hudson from sitting on Leah's head and lay down.

The next morning, Jeb and Ryan took Abigail on a hike while the rest of us babies slept. I woke up to the boys cooking eggs and potatoes for breakfast and getting ready to heat up the oil to make us scones. After we all had dough filled bellies, we were off to see the sights. Bryce canyon is beautiful and amazing.

We started with the museum and visitors center where Abigail found a cougar...

And I found a Ute.

My find is way cuter than hers.

Bryce canyon has hikes all over that are really kid friendly. They try and keep the drop offs fenced so as to keep the yung 'uns from falling to their demise. But Harrison is no ordinary yung 'un. We had to pull him away from the edge so many times I lost count. Fun, huh? It is so awesome to turn your head and see your boy dangling at the edge of destruction. The topper was when we made it to a place called Rainbow Bridge, and Harrison bolted from the car to see the view. I was unloading Leah and Hudson when I saw a man trying to flag me down and pointing at Harrison in a dramatic fashion, trying to tell him to get down. I go up to Harrison and find that he is climbing on the top rung of the fence, which is on the edge of a cliff with like a million foot drop. The poor man who didn't speak English was panicked. I wasn't panicked. I was angry, to say the least. Awesome event #3.

After we see the view at Rainbow Bridge, we all pile back into the car to carry on. This is when the most awesome thing happened. The car revolted. It dug in its heels and would not start. We tried and tried again. Nothing. Just the bing, bing, bing of it trying to tell us that we had left the keys in. We waited a little bit and tried again. Zippo. We unplugged devices and tried again. Zilch. Our 2 accountants (not mechanics) Ryan and Jeb popped the hood and tried to diagnose the problem. It was a mystery. Super Awesome event #4.

Then it was decided that Ryan would try and find a ride back to the lodge and see if he could get help. So we sat and waited in our traitor car until he returned. After an hour or so, Ryan came driving up in a HUGE YELLOW tow truck with a mechanic named Billie. Billie popped the hood and in about 3.2 seconds had the car running. He followed us to the fix-it shop and had 'er going again as good as new in about 15 minutes. I loved Billie, and told him so. Abigail decided that Billie should be in line to become Mr. B, and I agreed (completely inside joke. My apologies).

We made it back to the camp and Jeb threw together some sloppy joes for dinner. The sun was starting to set so the bigguns and the men took to a hike for star gazing. Leah, Hudson, and myself stayed back. After we were all reunited, Jeb managed to get Hudson to sleep (putting himself to sleep in the process) and Ryan started a fire for smores. It was very nice. That is the one thing I like about camping. Fires at nighttime under the spectacular scenery. Who knew the sky could be so filled with stars? Heavenly.

We all (miraculously) made it home in the same amount of pieces we left with. Hudson did manage to sleep for most of the ride home, as did the rest of us.

Well, did you catch it? I certainly did. I did not set anything up. I did not do any cooking. I did not have to plan, execute, or clean up anything while on this trip. Despite my dislike of camping, and maybe in spite of the fact that we were camping, it was actually a really nice trip. We were all well taken care of by the men, even (totally undeservedly) spoiled - which made my crummy attitude hard to keep. All of our awesome adventures ended up working out, and even left a little room for some fun times and good memories. Camping is still not what I would have picked out for a birthday party, but we did have fun; thanks to Jeb and Ryan. My 2 camping heroes. They were fantastic. They did all the work; including the hardest job of all - putting up with cranky me.

Besides, my mom gave me a University of Utah blanket as a gift, and there is no way those BYU boys could have topped that. Seriously, though, what could?

Mom's Last Treatment

She did it!! She managed to keep her white cells up, her weight stable, and her spirits high (enough) to make it to her last chemo treatment on time. We came and visited her with some of the grand kids and had an orange juice parade to celebrate (you can see them all in her bag). After she was done, we all had lunch at the Huntsman cafeteria and watched the helicopters come and go. It was fun, but not as fun as leaving. We were so out of there. We didn't even let the door hit us on the way out.

Doesn't she look great?!? She did it. We all sit in amazement of my sweet, lovely mom.

Abigail

Abigail's Birthday

Abigail has successfully cracked the 9 year barrier. I can't believe my little preemie is now 9 years old. I was always focused on getting her to 8 when she could be baptized, so now that she is 9 she seems so terribly old. She is such a lovely 9 year old, though.

We worked incredibly hard to get her here. There has never been a baby more wanted or worked for, in my opinion. I can remember the months and months of failure. Every fast Sunday watching baby after baby being blessed was heartbreaking. As the months turned into years with painful tests and treatments that were unsuccessful, I was worn out and ready to give up. Maybe it just wasn't going to happen for us. The doctors told us that we were too young to really care anyway.

But then, one blissful Thursday night after work, my prayers were answered with a resounding yes. I went over to the maternity floor of the hospital I was working in (a very mean place to have the pregnancy tests, I think) to subject myself again to the monthly disappointment. The nurse who was with me, unknowing of my situation, reported the "positive" to me with a sigh. I jumped up and asked her if this was really true. She then was aware of the hopefulness I had come in with and became excited right along with me. I told her that even though I really didn't know her at all, I just had to give her a hug. "We have been trying for so long!!" I said. She told me that I had made her night, and off I went to spring the news on my ever patient and supportive husband.

That started our adventure. My pregnancy was wonderful. All those women who complained about being pregnant - Hah! What were they talking about? I was in complete heaven. Every morning I would have my breakfast of Doritos and root beer, and then my wiggly baby would make her flipping, flopping presence known at 10:00 on the dot. But then came the news that my body wasn't handling the pregnancy as it should. My blood pressure was getting to be too high. I was given steroid shots to help my little baby's lungs grow faster, and assigned to bed rest for the weekend. A few weeks after that, things weren't improving, and Abigail had to make her entrance earlier than expected.

She was so tiny. Her daddy's "little loaf of bread". She spent 8 days in the NICU, something that was expected to last longer. I hated seeing her in her isolette, all tethered to various tubes. She was still there for my birthday, a fact which brought me to tears. There seemed to be nothing good there. The doctors who didn't want me to persist in trying to breastfeed. They wanted the easy feeding tube instead. The nurses who didn't understand why I wanted to be informed if something were going to happen to her. Yes, I wanted to be alerted if she needed a new IV put in. Yes, I wanted to be alerted if she was going to have to have that feeding tube after all. Why is that so unreasonable?

But, eventually, after much persistence in feeding, she had gained enough weight and passed all their "tests" to be able to come home. And then it started. I had to set my alarm to wake her up to feed her every 3 hours. She was just too tired to wake up and eat. Looking back, I can't believe that I have kept her alive for 9 years.

She is still the smallest to this day. In kindergarten, when placed in a class with 2 other Abigail's, she was referred to as "little Abigail". She is shorter than kids who are younger than her, which I think is fantastic. The shortest girls are always the cutest.

She has an old soul. At school, she has just as many friends in the teachers and staff as she does in kids her own age. She can carry on a conversation with a "grown up" just as well as she can with the neighbor kids.

She is a smart cookie, that kid. She can argue and sass her way with the best of them. But, we still manage to get along even through all of that.

For her birthday, Abigail had a very detailed list of the things she wanted:

1- Headphones that go on top of your ears, not in your ears (check).

2- Twilight soundtrack (negative).

3-American Girl books (check in the form of a gift card from Tracy).

4-Notebooks (check, thanks Bo).

5-Pens (sparkle check, thanks Bo).

6-Music recorder (check).

7-Jonas Brother music (painful check, thanks a lot, Bo).

8-Jonas Brother, the movie (negative. It's not out on DVD and no way am I taking everyone to that in the theatres).

9-Tape recorder (check).

10-Beads, ocean, real (check, check, and check).

11-Webkinz (check fuzzy hippo, thanks Bo).

12-VIP Littlest Petshop (check duck, thanks Grandma).

13- Shining Stars (negative. How many "interactive" internet toys does a girl really need?).

14-Kit, the Movie (check).

15-Kit, the book series (check, again in the form of gift card thanks to aunt Tracy).

She also made her very own birthday cake - all by herself. Really, she did. She wanted brownies and did such a wonderful job.

I sure love you, my sweetheart. You make my days easier just by being your sweet, caring self. You make me happy every single day, and I am so glad to have you.

Abigail's 9 report:

Favorite things: the beach, the color turquoise, her parakeet (which is turquoise, by the way), going camping, music, going swimming, going on vacation, dancing, the ocean.

Favorite books: Lizzie McGuire mysteries, Little Genie, High School Musical 2 (which she had to read before she could see the movie), High School Musical 3 (which she had to read before she could see the movie), Enchanted (you get the idea about the movies), Pet Trouble, Under the Sea, Princess Collection, The Mermaid's Treasure.

Favorite Foods: Chinese food, homemade quiche, homemade mac and cheese, mac and cheese with white sauce, The Brick Oven Restaurant, fish, ham sandwiches, treats, and hard boiled eggs.

Favorite Animals: Parakeets, dogs, fish, whales, dolphins, sea turtles, stingrays, sharks, and seals.

Favorite Colors: Turquoise, aquamarine, blue-green, green-blue, teal, cerulean, aqua, cyan, and just plain blue.

My 9 proudest moments: When she was baptized, when she passed up a "Build a Bear" because we were saving up for our house, every report card, when she wanted to share her baptism with Hudson's blessing, when she shares her "makeup" with Leah, her piano recital, her dance recitals, when she ran to Harrison to help him back up the hill because he fell off his bike, when she cut her hair off for Grandma.

All I Want Is To Have Harrold Back!!!

Disclaimer: I have a cold, have only warm OJ in the house, am on about 57 (only a slight exaggeration) different medications, and am very, very grumpy. Just a warning about the tone of this post.

Yes, that title is a vague reference to Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. And yes, I WOULD give my last case of Wonka bars as ransom. What is being held for ransom you ask? No, not Harrold, but our yard. Let me explain....

Last year at this time we had new neighbors move in right next door. All right. Not so bad. They are an interesting couple, along with their 2 small children. A boy who is now almost 4, and a little girl who is now 1 1/2. Not so bad so far, right? Hang on to your britches, or whatever else you happen to be wearing.

We begin a relationship with said neighbors, and the kids begin a friendship with said children. This is where wackiness and problems ensue. You see, their now almost 4 year old is named, ironically, Ivan. I say ironically because he is just like Ivan the Terrible. Only our neighbor Ivan is not Russian. Other than that, they are just the same. They even look alike.

Our neighbor Ivan is an almost 4 year old trapped in the body of an 18 year old linebacker. He weighs about as much as I do. And he can push that weight around, boy howdy. The kid is a real bruiser. He has slapped Abigail in the face so hard it left a welt, all because she was walking him home to make sure he got there okay. He punches Harrison as often as he can. But poor Leah tends to get the brunt of him. He has pushed her off her bed (which is almost as high as the top bunk of a bunk bed). He has pinched her cheek (not scratched, not clawed, but pinched) so hard it bled. He has taught her very colorful language. Right after Thanksgiving he dumped a bucket of ice melt over her head. That was it for me.

Every time something happened, he was sent home. Or we took him home and confronted his mother. When these confrontations would take place, she would say "Ivan, did you hit/pinch/punch/assault and/or battery these kids?" To which his answer would ALWAYS be "Nope". She wouldn't believe him, but still a punishment was never carried through with. The entire winter was spent indoors or away from home. No just hanging out at home. It was too risky.

But now, it is summer. And around he comes again. He doesn't come to the door to play. He just waits until my guys are out in the front yard, and then attacks. The strict rule for my Oompa Loompas is that they always have to be nice and polite to him; not saying mean things or running away. But, if he hurts any one of them, they are to come in and not play with him anymore.

It was just a matter of time (minutes, really) that this scenario was put into action. Leah and Harrison were out riding their scooters for all of 48 seconds, when Harrison came in and told me that Ivan had put Leah in a headlock, and thrown her to the ground. In they come, and I tell Ivan to go home and tell his mom what had happened. After he does this (with lots and lots of forceful "encouragement") she then proceeds to send Ivan over to apologize to Leah. Harrison answers the door with Leah and, after Ivan apologizes, he tells Ivan that they are not going to play with him today because Ivan hurt his sister.

Apparently, this was not the thing to do.

I immediately receive a phone call from Ivan's mom telling me that Harrison was saying hurtful, damaging things and that Ivan was crying and can't my kids be nice and Ivan is just a little boy and I am raising wimps and we should just let them play and on and on and on!?! WHAT?!?! And then the kicker; "If your kids don't stop saying that Ivan is mean" she said "then I will start being mean to your kids". Needless to say, we are avoiding Ivan at all costs again.

So, you ask, can't you just keep the kids in the backyard and have them play there Ivan free? Don't I wish it were that easy. There are 2 main factors for making this solution unsolutionable.

1- They have a big deck which overlooks all of our neighborhood, but mainly our backyard. Ivan will stand on this throne of his and yell and yell and yell and yell at the kids to come and play with him, or to stop playing whatever they are playing and come talk to him, or yell at any other playmates that happen to be playing that they need to go home so that my kids can play with him, etc. And he stalks that porch as well as he stalks his front porch. Waiting, always waiting, for the kids to come out.

2- They have, against our city's code might I add, 3 dogs. 2 enormous dogs that have that really deep bark; and 1 little black dog with the classic yappy yap that is akin to nails on chalkboards, and makes you want to remove your eardrums yourself with a melon baller. These dogs have obviously been trained by Ivan himself as they begin to bark if we even whisper to the kids "why don't you go outside and play".

So, when the kids go into the backyard the only game they can play is either "Let's See How Loud the Dogs Will Bark", or "We Have To Stay On the Side of the House to Play in Secret", aka "The Avoiding Ivan Game".

If anybody has any ideas as to how to handle unruly, bully, crazy neighbors, let me know. Or if you have a case of Wonka bars you'd be willing to donate......

Zoo Field Trip

I went with Harrison on his first field trip to the zoo. Shouldn't all first field trips be to the zoo? Classic elementary school protocol. It was also his first time on a school bus. The excitement was overwhelming!!! The Bus!!! Hooray!!! It swerves like a rollercoaster with every turn!! It elicits screams of delight with every bump and jump over old potholes!!! It was the greatest day of his life since his dad won the Wii at the work summer party!!!! Yes, Harrison spoke with double and triple exclamation points about every new experience!!! Aren't kindergartners wonderful?

We had a small group, just Harrison and his friend Tyler. We were free to do whatever the boy's little rapid beating, excited hearts desired.

We watched the rhinos eat (and slobber right back out) whole apples and bananas, peels included. We participated in and watched the bird show - an every zoo trip requirement. We were sprayed with water by the elephant who will be ready to have her baby in July (I would spray people who stared at me in my last month of pregnancy, too).

But the best part of the day was at the end; and not just because we were done and going home. We wrapped up our visit with a Q&A session with the camel handlers. The boys each asked very intelligent questions. Is the hump really filled with water? Why are their humps different shapes? Why is that-camel-over-there's hump falling over? And then came the clincher.......

How do you tell a boy camel from a girl camel?

The handlers were very cute in their answer. "Well, just like you do in people. A boy looks like a boy, and a girl looks like a girl".

To which Harrison responded,

"Oh! A girl has more hair on her head, and a boy has less, right!?!"

Exactly right, Bubba. Field trip: success.

Bigger and Bigger

Things are moving along around here, as much as I try to stop them. It seemed overnight that all the kids had jumped into the next level of kid-dom. I don't like new levels of kid-dom. I like baby-dom much more.

Hudson decided to start walking around all the time. He will only do it if he is already standing up, since he hasn't figured out the standing himself up part. Details, details. He would rather be walking all the time, though. He is trying to give up the crawl. If he is down on the floor and trying to keep up with you, he will not crawl or try and get up. He will just walk on his knees, crying and pleading with you to just stand him up so that he can keep up.

Leah has began eliminating the Leah-ese from our house. One morning, she and I were lying in bed talking about the what's and when's of the day. She said to me "what are we having for LLLLLunch?" This took me quite by surprise. I said "for what?" And she said "for LLLLunch". As of the night before, she had never had lunch in her entire life. She had only partaken of "Yunch". Along with that, her name was "Yeah", Papa's motorcycle was "Youd", which she did not "Yike". But suddenly, that morning, she had grown out of it. It had vanished into the atmosphere. She also lost her FFF sound that she used for the TH sound. Example; "toof" is now "tooTH" with a very capital TH. She now goes to the baTHroom to brush her teeTH. I miss the bafroom and her teef. No matter how I try to convince her that she only has teef in her mouf, she now knows the truTH.

Harrison also reached a milestone, speaking of teeth. He lost his first one. It was just the day before that I was admiring his cute little baby teeth, and was so glad that they were all still in there tight. (I have got to stop noticing the little things about the kids. Apparently, when I do, it is for the last time). We were having a "hot baked sandwich" at Costco when Harrison complained that he couldn't eat it because his tooth hurt. I asked him to open up and, to my surprise, inside was lurking a new grown up tooth right behind his little baby tooth. He looked like a shark with rows of teeth. He was very excited to hear that, but I was not.

Abigail came home with an awesome report card yesterday. She is so funny because she still doesn't really know what a good grade is. They don't do A's and B's in our district. It is a scale of 4 to 1 (4 being the A). So, she showed it to me with some trepidation. It was spankin', really. Her average on assignments was 100.0%. I'm sorry, I just have to brag. You know you'd totally do the same. Don't judge.

It just keeps going and going, doesn't it? I think that all of my emotions as a mom can be summed up as bittersweet. Or sweetly bitter. I am so proud of all of them, and love seeing them try new things and grow, but I just wish it would happen in s l o w m o t i o n.