the first 13 days of summer I am...

I was asked to watch three cute kids for my big sister while she goes on a wild and wet and fun adventure to England. I am now mothering six children for 12 days.

It has been pretty easy so far.  If you don't count the broken window.

Or my seven year old's penchant for whining. 

Or the exploding diarrhea that happened before bed last night.

But so far, so good.  The kiddos miss their mom.  I pause a moment every day at three thirty, when their beautiful mommy face times them, and thank the age we live in.  

When with just a click, they can see their mom, and talk with her, and make funny faces, and hear her voice, and connect with her for a moment and know that she's okay, and she knows that they are okay.  

That Auntie Em has every thing under some slight control. At least for now.

I wish there was more time in the day, however.  I really don't know how my mom of eight children did it every day.  I am exhausted by the end of each day.  And hearing all six kids talking to me at once gets a little draining, and I try very hard to pay attention to each one.  And give them each some time.  It's very hard to make sure they are each getting the love and attention they need,

I now know what my parents felt like raising eight children!

So, the count down continues for Aunt Jeni to return.  We have a big surprise party waiting.  The kids are planning it.  I suppose I'm making the dessert.

I hope you're having a cheerio old good time in England Jen!

We are back in the beehive state..I think.
  

The Little Things

My weekends are packed.  We gather up the kids, pile into the suv and drive down the road to the soccer fields.  Children in bright colored uniforms greet us each Saturday.  We sit on the sidelines, and cheer on our own team.  And each week, it usually happens that one of the teams doesn't get a goal.  There are parents who cheer loudly and get excited about each kick their child makes.  There are parents whose heads are bent over their phones and miss the entire game.  There are grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and siblings there who have come to cheer one tiny uniform clad child on.  And in the midst of all that are my kids.

This last weekend, something happened in Luke's game.  He was being his usual self in the game.  Excited to be there, but not really paying attention to the game.  He had some moments where he got into the game, and then backed off.  He has been a timid player this year, we aren't sure why.  Finally, he decided to get into the game, and he was going into the ruckus.  Meanwhile, on the field, one of his blue clad mates had fallen, and was hurt.  He was taking a long time to get up.  Luke in the middle of a really intense part of the game, noticed.  He could have kept going for the ball, his coach wanted him too.  His team mates wanted him too.  But Luke, he stopped.  Walked over to his team mate, put his arm around him and helped him.  And stayed next to his team mate until he was sure that he was okay.  I wish I had a picture of that moment.  That was my boy out there.  Not concerned about a goal, or kicking the ball.  He wanted to help his team mate.  And that is the kind of boy I am raising.  He is a gentle and sweet soul.  And I love him for it.

Loving

I want to fly somewhere, anywhere in the world to see these gentlemen in concert.  I will wait for them.

I will wait for them to come to the red rocks, or at least the ROCKY MOUNTAINS.

I will wait until they are heavy in my arms, or at least, in view of my arms.

I love this group.

Until I decide to love some one else.

 Like these guys, who I am more likely to see in concert anyway.

Imagine Dragons

Or if she ever came to play a little ditty, I would sit in the audience, lip syncing with her.

And I had the chance to see this lovely lady in concert, but the tickets were over 200 buckaroos, and I couldn't justify the cost, so instead, I popped in her DVD that came with my CD and watched that instead, which I suppose is almost the same thing.

Who wants to join me in my quest to get good old mummy and and his sons to come out west?  Will you? It should be on your bucket list.

jalapeno on my mind

I was minding my own business, really I was.

Making the brood dinner, see because I'm nice like that.

And I had a sudden itch, on my cheek.  It was innocent, really.  So I itched the itch.  It was nothing.  And now.

Now I have a huge red welt sporting a freckle on my cheek.

All because I was trying to be home maker-ish and make pineapple salsa and the jalapeno left it's spicy and apparently deadly juice on my finger nail.

In other news:

see this silly boy right there?  He has declared that he is no longer a BABY.  That's right folks.  Thanks to my friend who kindly lent me her 3 month old baby, my 3 1/2 year old has decided he is now a big boy.

If only I could convince him that big BOYS love wearing big boy underwear and not diapers.

He tells me every day, that YES he will underwear, but only if it's TOMORROW, to which I reply, but you said that yesterday.  And he tells me "I want some milk and some toast, no CRUST"

See, no winning with this one.

But can you blame him?  Look at that face! What is a mom to do?

DIET LIME COKE, PEOPLE.

That is how I survive.

And I will try not be so down...

It's the winter, I'll blame it on that.(I really do love my house...most of the time)

My Dream House

I have lived in my house for ten years now.  We bought our house.  The second one to be built in our little community.

I, with the understanding that this was our starter home.  We would eventually move.  I was okay with the size and the fact that it was a cookie cutter home, and that I had to settle with white walls, and tan floors.  Because we were on a plan, and I could live with a plan.  See, I am patient.

But it's been ten years.  In that ten years, I have waited.  I even painted some walls, but the last time I painted was five years ago.  I am stuck.

And the plan.  A certain someone is content to stay in the cookie cutter home, in the small rooms and the tanned floored rooms.  He likes white and shrink size rooms.

I am not content.

And I am learning that I am not so patient.

It doesn't help that my friends, are all moving on.  They are all getting bigger, beautiful homes.  I wander their large homes and I long for more space.  A huge part of me is happy, very happy for them.  I am.  But a small, very small part of me dies as I walk in their homes.  And I hear their children in my home, tell my children how small my home is.  And ask me why we live in our tiny house.  And I tell myself that I am blessed because I know, I know that there is, are, people who do not have what I have. I KNOW THAT, okay?  But it's hard.  When all I want is a little more.  I don't want a mansion.  I just want some more floor space.  Heck right now, I just want hard  flooring in my bedroom and some grey paint on the walls!

It's letting go, it's learning each time I hear my husband tell me we can't move, or change something in the house, that I have to let go, just one more time, of the plan, the dream I had, still have of something more.  And knowing that I don't want to let go, at all.

33 is a beautiful number, no?

My birthday was this week.  I dread my birthdays. Just like I dread Valentine's day and Mother's day.  They usually end up being horrible days.

And it was.  Like usual. But I did get asked if I was 22, so I still look young, and at least I didn't get asked if I was 16 which is a vast improvement.

On the other hand, I am now 33.  I love being in my 30's.  I do.  I like how mature I sound.  Even though on a daily basis I am not so mature, I can still sound like it.  That makes all the difference.  I am a well rounded  33 year old woman.  See, 33 has it perks.  Maybe not so perky though.

I celebrated by dragging one child to a restaurant   The other two did not want to come.  They thought it would be more fun to hang out with their Grandma and eat chicken nuggets.

We ate key lime tarts instead of cake, because I did not want to bake my own cake, and living where I do, there isn't a single bakery that I would trust my pallet with.  My husband was generous this year and gave me 15 bucks, I am oh so spoiled.

I spent my birthday money the next day treating myself to lunch after work.  It was worth every bite.

See, I am easy person to please.  Really.  If someone had sent me a twelve pack of diet coke with lime, I would have been the happiest person on the planet.

I did receive a gift card to Amazon, which come on, is the best place to buy books, and I spent it all on books, which arrived yesterday and I had a hard time picking which one too read first.

33.  Three years into my thirties. where has time gone?

I still feel like a teenager. 16 to be exact.

I like the taste of my foot

So, have you ever been in a conversation and it's going great.

You're talking about kids, or the weather, or the last book your reading.  Even the best movie you've just watched.  The latest fashion, or the the last episode of Once Upon A Time.

And then it happens.

You've inserted your foot in your mouth, and sometimes it gets lodged in there pretty tight that the best thing to do is turn and run?  But heaven forbid you do that!  No, you'll just overstay your welcome just a little more and make it even worse.

Yep.  That happened to me, last night.

I sat up all night thinking about what I could have said to make it better..oh, besides not saying anything at all?  Yeah that would have been helpful.

How do I cure myself of this infliction?  I seem to do this a lot.  And I would like to think that I am a thoughtful and kind person who wouldn't say mean things.  At least not on purpose.  So when it happens, it's a thousands times worse I suppose.  I toss and turn and can't believe I have done it.  And I do it.  ANYWAY.

I think my mind sometimes hasn't caught up with my mouth.

And how do you take back those words?  You can't.  Once they spew forth they are out there like unwanted spawn reeking havoc and you can't really do anything but watch those little devils do their work until the aftermath.  And your left scrambling to pick up the pieces.

I once told my mom that her and my dad should have stopped having kids after my sister Jessica.  Oops.  I hadn't meant it, it was suppose to be a joke.  Yeah, lovely joke right?  I felt horrible for a week, and then went to apologize, and mom didn't remember it.  But I felt horrible that i would even attempt to say something like that.  Seriously.  who says that?

And then last night, I'm waiting for my daughter at her lesson, talking with a dear friend, we're talking about what it would be like to move.  And she said something like, her daughter would not like leaving her grandparents, because she loves being close to her grandparents, and stupid me, I say, "yeah, she would die if you did that" back story, this dear friend had lost a child a few years ago and her daughter has the same disease and yes, she might die too.  See, great, EMILY.  I didn't even realize what I had said till I had said it.  I had just meant, she would hate being away from her grandparents.  Yep, great choice of words.

See, foot in mouth.

I want this week to officially be over, like right now, this very minute.  It really as been one of those weeks.