It All Makes Sense

For some time I haven't been able to think about anything to blog.

I chalked this up to my mundane and overly boring life and mountains and mountains of laundry.

Then, as I sat down to write a top ten of last year, inspired by another (better) blogger, I realized something:

I have a serious memory issue.

Then I realized something else.

This all started around the time a little punk was born.  A little punk we call, "It".  A little punk who seems to draw the entire universe around her to smother her in kisses and hold her and never let her precious tukus touch the ground.

Every morning through crusty eyes and stinky breath my son needs to be informed of each and every squawk and cry Chloe made through the night.  Kembry just demands cereal.

The point is, I'm seriously sleep deprived.  And apparently, this has something to do with retaining memory.  Is this what that third child syndrome is all about?  Perhaps parents all over the world, throughout the history of time, have failed to make any memory of their third child because they were just plum exhausted.

"What third child?  I only have two children..."

"No, Ma'am, you have six."

*Crickets*

*Shiver*

I think three does it for me.  At least until they make a powerful enough sleeping pill that will seep through my breast milk and into my infant and knock her out once and for all...or, until my husband starts to lactate.  Either or.  Preferably the latter.  Of course, he'll have to shave all that nipple hair off.  *Another shiver*.

Anyhoodle, what was I saying?

Aw yes.

Good night.

My Fruit

This morning when I dropped Brett of at work, Kembry informed him that she would miss him.

She does this every morning.

Brett turned and said, "I think that's a fruit of our labors, hearing her say that."

Then we talked a little bit about what some other fruits are with which we've been blessed.

Being able to share our testimony, or have an unplanned missionary experience go well because the Spirit was with us.  This is an obvious fruit of living righteously, and always being prepared with the Spirit.

Seeing a love of the scriptures grow in our children.  Especially Cohen, but even Kembry is becoming interested in the stories.  Maybe it's the way Cohen reads them, he really gets into them.

Seeing our friendships flourish, and feeling a deep love for those friends.

Feeling a peace during stormy hours and having faith in that peace.

Laughing as a family.  Especially this one.

When we read our scriptures as a family, say our prayers as a family, play together, laugh together, go to church together, share our testimonies with each other...all of these things help nourish our trees and bring forth these good fruits.

I am so grateful for my fruits.

1 Nephi 8:12
"And as I partook of the fruit thereof it filled my soul with exceedingly great joy..."

What are some of your fruits?

A New Diet

I opened my mouth this morning to a loud *POP* and the most horrible pain in my jaw.

Sooooo...I won't be able to eat for awhile, but maybe this will help me lose that 40 lbs. I gained over the past 8 years.

Love

Me

Oh crap, I just realized, I don't have to chew milk shakes.  Dang it!  There goes that plan...

What I Do

This morning I spent an hour teaching a Veteran of the Civil War understand and find a font on his Microsoft Word program.

Mind you, I had to explain what the "mouse" was, when to "left" or "right" click, and where the backspace key on the keyboard was.

I also had to keep reminding him to stop "XING" out of the program every time he didn't like a font.  I.E. teaching him where the backspace button was.

Oh, and then I helped him download an updated version of Adobe.  Pretty easy?  Did I mention he was partially DEAF?  And doesn't know what Internet Explorer, a search bar, a or cursor is?

Please send any condolence cards and/or cash to my PO Box in Hades, across from the River Styx.

Thank you and good night.

Actually, I really like my  job.  I like helping old people.  I'm sick like that.  And I don't have to see their ear hair, so it's not so bad.

On the other hand, Time is playing tricks on me and making 4 a.m. come earlier and earlier every morning.  Stupid Time.

Now good night.  For realsy.

Life Is Different Now

But not in a bad way.

It's just that I'm so used to snuggling with Brett during Sacrament.

I'm so used to hearing his thoughts.

I'm so used to pawning the kids off on him.

It wasn't so bad though.  The kids behaved like a 5 and 4 year old and a sick newborn; they played their part and shouted at Brett a couple of times, he smiled back shyly.  Sweet Sister Burton took Chloe and used her magic touch to put her to sleep, and help her fart.  Sister Burton, will you hold me?

And can I just say, my internet blog buddies rock.  I just love your comments of encouragement and well-being etc. etc.  So thank you.  I'm feeling all your vibes.

Kimberly, sick.  Quit sending that vibe.  You're nasty girl.

Kelly Out

A Plague On Our House

Kembry has channeled her inner chow.

According to the Urgent Care "doctor", she does not have whooping cough.  You see, she's barking, not whooping.

Despite her oxygen being 87.

According to Dr. Google, whose credentials I trust much more, and who doesn't have an unattractive overbite, she does have whooping cough.

A good thing I laid the smack down and was all, "Woman, give my daughter some antibiotics, or I'm going to throw all those little ear thingy's all over this here place!"

And we all know how much they love those ear thingys.

So, after $100 and ten minutes of in depth medical review...*PSHT*...Kembry has "a bad cold."  But at least I got a good cough medicine and some not so good antibiotics.

Kembry, with her gracious loving talent to share everything has provided her father with the high fever and nasty "cold".  So, he's slurping down soup and being pampered to within an inch of his life.

I need my cousin Abbie's husband up here with two 44 oz. of coke to help me through the weekend.

Kelly Out

What The...Who The...

Kids are sleeping.  Finally.

They haven't slept since December.  Neither have I.

My house also refuses to clean itself, the laundry is breeding like rabbits, and there's this strange smell wafting from the drain my bathroom sink.  I have no idea.

My sweet husband has been called as the Second Counselor in the Bishopric of our ward.  If you don't know what that means, just know that I no longer have a husband a few nights a week.  But I'm totally okay with it.  In fact, there's something about knowing he's doing the Lord's work, hard work, that gives me happy tingles.  Something very fulfilling for me, even though I'm only at home sucking down my second Coke and watching a Criminal Mind marathon instead of dealing with my frisky laundry.

The last few weeks have been hectic.  I give a virtual high five to all the mothers out there who work full time, and then go home to work full time.  It's tough stuff, tough stuff.  Both of my older kids are sick, and they haven't been sick-sick in about 3 years.  Nasty coughs.  Ookey green goop creeping out of their noses.  I had to give them cough medicine for the first time tonight.  Then I downed the rest of the bottle for myself.

Kidding, only kidding.

It's been tumultuous*, to say the least.  An emotional roller coaster that's turned me green and given me a continuous nausea feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I have a stressful job, and work with people who are the salt of the earth, and just don't know it.  I feel like I'm there for a reason, and it's not monetary.  I just don't know how to latch on to that reason and run with it.  I feel lost in my callings in life, as a wife and mother and employee and daughter and sister and daughter-in-law and sex goddess.  It's hard to juggle it all, but it gets easier every day.  Let's just say we're all lucky if I remember to shower that week...

So, because of family tragedies, working full time, sleeping 20 hours a week, losing my husband to a good cause and resolving to blow my house up with a few sticks of dynamite, I haven't blogged.  For my two readers out there, I apologize.  

Love you both,

Moi

P.S.  Chloe is turning out to be the cutest baby in the entire history of the world, ever.  Anywhere.

*My Senior year in HS, my AP History class and I decided to use that word in the first paragraph on one of our essays for our final exam (we're rebels, I know).  Turns out I was the only one who did it.  Traitors.