Super Sister

Harrison came from school today scratched, bleeding, and understandably upset. "Look" he said as he unveiled his elbow. "I'm bleeding". After kissing, consoling, and band-aiding, I asked what had happened. Turns out his friend was bugging him the whole walk home from school. This guy was grabbing Harrison's backpack and pushing him and pulling him with it until Harrison finally bit the dust, sacrificing his elbow to protect his handsome little face.

Then Abigail came walking in the door. "Harrison's friend pulled him down on the way home from school". "I know", I said "but he's better now". Abigail then took off her jacket to reveal her cape. "I grabbed that kid by his backpack and got right in his face and yelled at him that he better never touch my brother ever again. I told him to knock it off right then."

Excellent. Our training has paid off. She stood up for and protected her brother. Nice. We watch out for each other around here, I tell you what. You mess with one Brammer, you get us all. And that should strike fear into the heart of any contender, considering how many of us there are.

Super Abigail to the rescue. Our hero. I love her more than any super power would permit.

It's Official

Although the test came back positive months ago, and I have been rudely waking up the bottom of the toilet very early every morning for weeks and weeks, I didn't officially become pregnant until today.

Today I broke out the maternity clothes.

There is one problem with me and maternity clothes. It seems that whenever I'm not expecting, the maternity clothes are cute, fashionable, and cheap. They actually look like something a real person would wear, and in the daylight even. Whenever I am pregnant, however, the maternity clothes turn into big (and I mean BIG) rolls of fabric that some poor 2nd grade class tried to make into a pop-up tent or a big duffel bag to haul the soccer balls out to recess, but failed miserably. They then use these massive failures as the selections for my entire maternity wardrobe. In fact, the uglier the maternity clothes, the more convinced my sisters are that I'm pregnant, even before we have announced it. They'll pull out one of the hideous selections from the rack and say "oh, you're totally pregnant". And low and behold, I am!! I dislike maternity clothes, intensely.

As soon as I begin wearing my maternity clothes, I end the "doesn't my little bulging belly make me feel feminine" feeling, and just feel like a big beer bellied cow. A big cow trying to cover her beer belly with a giant turquoise flowery poncho with sleeves. Usually puffy sleeves. Ugh.

Jeb has even ventured into the way too expensive, uppity, snobbish maternity stores, that usually don't allow us to enter, to see if he can find something that could be considered marginally attractive. He would have paid whatever the price to make me feel better about my homely appearance. He came out empty handed. If, however, we went into those same stores right after I have had a baby, we would stand there open jawed at all the lovely choices.

It has to be some kind of curse. That or a terrible, terrible, extremely mean joke. One more thing to put on my list of why these kids owe me big time. "We had to drive to the hospital in the worst snow storm of the century when I was in labor with you! And then, when we got there, my labor lasted for 197 hours! And the anesthesiologist was busy for 196 1/2 of those hours! And, to top it all off, I had to wear the ugliest clothes you can imagine once my waist disappeared!!" Oh, they will pay, these kids. They will pay.

I Love Boring

No, not Jeb. Although I do, and he is.

The older I get (and some days that feels so very old), the more I appreciate the same old, same old of boring life. Change is not good, exciting is not so exciting, and predictability is the dream.

At mom's appointment today, boring was the answer. All the test results were reported as "stable, stable, no growth, and stable". Those words have never sounded so wonderful. This means our boring old plans of a normal, traditional, exactly the same as last year's holiday. We can plan out the rest of the year with nothing but hope and happiness for the future. Can there be a better blessing than that of knowing exactly what to expect? I can't think of one right now.

Mom does still have to go every 3 weeks for maintenance drugs. Although, they are taking out the bone strengthener. I told you that one was useless, didn't I? Her powers dwarf any old medicinal strengthener. Sometimes those medical people underestimate her. Me, though? Never. I've seen her tackle 9:00 church meetings on Sunday mornings with 3 girls in curlers. I've seen her do an entire birthday party with only a microwave at her disposal (it was a lemon cake, thank you, and it was delicious). I've seen her do Thanksgiving dinner for what felt like a thousand people, and she was wonderful. Just like she will be this Thanksgiving. See? The same old, same old is fantastic.

Good job, mom.

Another Round of Testing for Mom

Hi, all.

Mom's scheduled to have another big day of testing tomorrow, Tuesday the 17th. She has been off of chemo since the end of June, and has been doing so well! These tests are to see if her lungs have been following her good example.

If you could please keep her in your thoughts and prayers, just to give those cute little lungs of hers that extra bump of encouragement they need to keep the tumors at bay. And while you're at it, maybe whisper a word of encouragement for the CT workers who have to hear it from my sainted (but still German blooded) mother for making her drink the pre-CT smoothie. Those poor people just don't get paid enough for that.

We'll have the results hopefully by Wednesday. I'll keep you posted.


Love,

Robyn

Certifiable

I love April. It's one of the best months. It's actually the official start of all the good months, in my opinion. There is a lot to love about April. For your consideration, in chronological order:

- It's the first full month of Spring. Winter doesn't have even one day of April in its bitter frozen hands.

- April holds the best holiday EVAH - Easter. Easter totally has Halloween and Christmas beat around the block and back again. It's got them beat from here until next Tuesday. It's got them beat like the coug's at homecoming. You get the idea.

- April 5th is due to bring the 5th baby Brammer to our crazy, padded walled, straight jacket outfitted family. The day after Easter!!! We couldn't have planned it better.

- April 22nd is Earth Day. Now, I'm no Al Gore or anything, but (and Jeb knew this before he proposed) I am a hippie at heart. If I had been born in a different time period, it would have been yours truly you are always seeing doing the crazy-arms-out-spinning-dance with my long hair and long dress in all the Woodstock video clips. Earth day is groovy and far out.

- April 30th is the loveliest, most fabulous, and all around most remarkable woman's birthday. My sweet mom, of course.


So now you can see why when the weather starts to turn colder, and the leaves begin to change, all my little budding heart can think of is April. Especially this April when our family will finally be complete. I can't wait.

The Spinach Pizza

Jeb was gone on a trip from early Thursday morning to very late Sunday night. You know what they say about when dad is away, right? No, not the kids will play, but the kids (and mom) will not clean the house, do the laundry or dishes, or even get out of their pajamas for almost the entire time he is gone. Aaaah. Feels good.


Until we realize that we only have a matter of hours to make it look like we were productive every minute that he was gone.


So, Sunday night, we start the race to see who can clean up the most and the fastest. We also added a new parameter to the game - who can do it with the least amount of attitude. Thanks, Abigail for that new slant!!! The prize at the end of this race was pizza. Not just any pizza, though. Our favorite garlic chicken Alfredo pizza with cheese bread sticks. Aaaah, again. Feels so good.

We completed the race with only a handful of warnings ("Why are you walking around with nothing in your hands?" and the old "One more, Abigail, and you will lose the attitude category"). The pizza was ordered. Unfortunately, our lovely neighborhood pizza man reports that he no longer has our most prized pie. The closest they have is a spinach Alfredo pizza that he can put chicken on (and no. You cannot take the spinach off. It is mixed in with the sauce. We asked, thank you). I figure it is worth the spinach to get the rest of the deliciousness and go ahead and place the order, cheese bread included.

We interrupt this post to address the fact that we are ordering pizza on a Sunday. Yes, we know it is wrong. Yes we felt bad that somebody was working on a Sunday for us. Yes, we will probably not do this again for a long, long time. But, it was this or starving, angry children who would then cry All. Night. Long. about how they had to clean AND THEN have to have Ramen noodles for dinner. There would be no way I could have enlisted the 4 days worth of needed help with only Ramens to offer up. No way. Back to the regularly scheduled post.

Once the pizza arrives at our house, the kids are all worn out but excited. I unveil our lovely dinner only to hear silence in the room. "The green stuff is just spinach. It's cooked and covered in sauce and you won't be able to taste it. Besides, spinach is super healthy for you." I say to the 4 disgusted faces surrounding the table. Harrison is the only one to voice a reply. He says "when I look at the pizza, it makes my eyes want to cry" and then he stars rubbing his eyes and begins the sniffling.

Hudson's response was classic. I got lots of this...

And then even more of this...

I finally convinced everyone to just try a little, teeny bite and see if they could even tell the difference. I promise them loads of strength and growth potential with every leafy bite. Once they do, they are pleasantly surprised. And surprisingly, after waiting just a little while with no alternative for Hudson, he begins to eat it up. Spinach Success.

I didn't even have to reward (bribe, coerce, whatever) them with any kind of sugary dessert, either. Hallelujah for that.

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