Party of the Year

When I lived in Manassas, my friend Anitra began throwing a White Elephant/Ugly Sweater Christmas party each year.  They were the BEST parties-- truly raucous and hilarious, which is hard to pull off when you're Mormon and alcohol is off-limits.  They were so fun, I even tried to recreate it in Charlottesville (and a lot of people came and it was very nice-- but having a party at 10am on a Saturday just does NOT elicit the same craziness that a Friday night party will get you!).  (It also probably didn't help that the average age of the Relief Society in my ward is about 70.) 

Anyway.  A couple pictures from past parties might explain better than I can with mere words just how fabulous these parties were:

L-R, My sister Tracy, me (very pregnant with Camille), Tracy Scoresby in horsehead and tacky sweater, and Anna Cordner

And the year before, I got the fish that Jen is holding ("Lenee," named for the giver) which now sits in Craig's office.  And no, nothing in those cups is alcoholic!

I was already thinking of heading up to Manassas to visit Tracy on her birthday when my friend Vangie mentioned that the party would be that same day.  And I was sold.  I texted Candace, who was now throwing the party (since Anitra moved to Utah the same summer we did) and begged to be invited, too.  I asked my in-laws to babysit (since Craig had to chaperone a basketball game).  I got everything arranged.  And I was off, returning to Northern Virginia!

You know how they say you can never go home again?  I've been fully aware of the truth of that sentiment.  I've had plenty of times where I've shown up to a place that has significance to me, only to find that in my absence everyone has moved on and no one really cares that I've been gone, let alone that I'm back.  The first few times that happened it was a bit painful (and super awkward), so I know the drill.  I was really excited to see all these friends again, but I wasn't expecting it to be some amazing homecoming or anything.

But, it turns out, sometimes you CAN go home again.  Because seeing these friends was truly like I'd never left at all.  And it was even better than I'd hoped it might be!  A bunch of the ladies there had also been gone-- Jen came back from Chantilly, Christina was home after spending two years in China, Anitra flew in for the party (!!!) and Sarah carpooled there with me.  And miracle of miracles, I managed to spend a good chunk of time talking with most of them!

AND IT WAS SO FUN!!!!!

Halfway through the party, I realized that my cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling so much.  Now THAT is a great feeling!

I LOVED my friend Andrea's ugly sweater for this year

Getting ready for the big group picture

Sarah got the final prize: a re-gift from years ago when Anitra gave away a poster of herself with the caption, "I believe in you."  This inspired a spate of Anitra-themed gifts, pictured below:

Here we have two t-shirts, two framed pictures, and two mugs, all featuring Anitra.  Bet she'll think twice before she posts any more pictures on facebook!

The whole, happy gang.

Oh, how I love these friends of mine.  When we moved to Manassas in 2006, I never could have guessed how many wonderful friendships I would find there.  How lucky am I?


I already can hardly wait until next year's party!

It Gets Worse

Yesterday after sacrament meeting, I was walking my three littlest kids to their nursery and primary classes, and I caught up with a friend so I could chat with her.  Her husband came up behind us and mumbled something about a diaper being stuck.  I figured Camille's dress must have gotten tucked into her diaper, and began turning her around trying to fix it.  My friend stopped to see what the issue was, also, and she was the one who figured out: the diaper was stuck to ME.  The back of my skirt, specifically.

Like I said, Constant humiliation.

When I told Craig he laughed hysterically and then said, "At least it was a clean diaper!" 

Just when you think you've hit rock bottom, someone comes up with a new low for you to stoop to...


Anyway.  Sorry I don't have a picture for you.  But, no, I'm not really sorry.

December Woes

So much has been going on, but most of it not particularly fun, I'm afraid...


We'll start with my vacuum breaking two weeks ago.  The seminary teacher had asked me to leave the vacuum downstairs so she could do a little tidying, so I was surprised when she tapped on the door and walked into the family room.  I was sitting in front of the computer in my bathrobe with crazy, I-just-woke-up hair (NOT the kind you instagram, trust me!) and was both embarrassed and annoyed at the intrusion.  She explained that she couldn't get the brushes on the vacuum to rotate; I tried a few things to get it going, and when those didn't work, I told her I'd just have to look more closely later.  (I wasn't going to get down on the floor and start dismantling the vacuum in my bathrobe!).  I figured one of those ornament hooks was probably stuck in it, so that's an easy fix.  Later in the afternoon I actually took it apart and cleaned the brush head, but found nothing wrong.  I googled it, called the company, they walked me through a few things, decided the motor in the brush head had died and promised to send me a new one.  It's still under warranty, so everything is free at least.  And I could still use the hose attachment, which is useful for cleaning up the piles of cereal my kids spill all over the floor several times every day.  So that was fine.  Not ideal, but workable for a week or so.

On Monday the new brush head arrived and I excitedly snapped it all together... and it still didn't work.  I called the company again, and after waiting 20 minutes to talk to a person, explained what had happened.  "Must be something else wrong, then!" she said, "You'll have to bring it in."  Since there are no Dyson stores nearby, I brought it to a UPS store and they boxed it up and mailed it for me (which is AWESOME, since I absolutely HATE boxing up anything, let alone a big old vacuum!).

And now I'm just waiting.  And watching my floors get grosser and grosser and wondering if it's worth the hassle of pulling out Craig's shop vac to take care of it all.

Also, I can't imagine that I'm going to get it back before Craig's brother and family arrive next week.  So that's been worrying me.  Fortunately, my mother-in-law graciously told me she'd bring her vacuum for me to borrow, so I won't be completely embarrassed that day.  (At least, not by my floors-- there's a good chance something else will happen to embarrass me!)

Anyway, this whole not having a vacuum thing seems to kill any motivation I've ever had to clean my house.  I'll notice that the bathrooms are dirty and be like, "But I don't have a vacuum, so who cares?"  I realize that makes no sense whatsoever, but there you go.  I'm sure the cold snap is adding to my inertia, too.  {Sigh.}  It's a good thing we've got company coming, or who knows how gross I might let things get?


***

The other fun thing around here is that everyone has been getting sick.  It started the same Friday my vacuum died.  That night, Colton wouldn't settle down.  He never said anything to indicate that he wasn't feeling well, he just kept wandering into my bedroom.  I was staying up later than I should have been, reading a book, so I'd just walk him back to his room and tell him to go to sleep.  The fourth time he came in, I'd finally turned out my light, but I thought I could hear him.  He stood in the dark for a moment, and then I heard that awful splat sound of liquid hitting the carpet.  I hoped maybe he'd just managed to spill a cup of water somehow, but then more splattering and I was out of bed in a flash.  Thrown up pizza: so disgusting.  So staining your carpet.

Then the following Thursday Kendra was complaining that her tummy hurt, and a few hours later she was throwing up (mostly in the toilet-- good girl, Kendra).  And later that night Ryder followed suit.  The next day Craig came home from work early and proceeded to lie around light-headed and ill, trying not to pass out.

The ward Christmas party was Friday night and I was supposed to bring food to it AND sing, so I was hoping to go and worried that I, too, would start throwing up.  Fortunately I managed to avoid it (knock on wood), so I brought most of the kids with me (Ryder slept through it, but Kendra was feeling better, so she came).  So it was me trying to manage everything with four kids.  I'd asked a friend to sit with me and help, but she ended up being over an hour late, so that didn't work.  When she did arrive, she sat down with her one child and said, "How do you manage with all your kids?" and I told her, "Constant humiliation."

Then I had to get up and sing my musical number.  We only had half the people we'd planned, because two were also sick; and the two who came had missed the previous practice.  So we weren't very good.  And then, as if that wasn't bad enough, Colton decided to run back and forth head-butting me the entire time.

Have you ever tried to sing while a small child is hurling himself into your side?  It's not pretty.

He's revving up, here

I sat back down and thought to myself, "Yup.  Constant humiliation."


We went home.  I put all the kids to bed.  Bentley woke me up at midnight crying because his stomach hurt.  He was throwing up at 4am.  I also got woken up at 2am by Ryder yelling at me and crying because he'd missed the Christmas party.  (I was a good mommy and took him downstairs and fed him some dinner, since he'd slept through that, too.)  And Craig woke me up at 5am because he was rattling around in the bathroom and I suddenly panicked that maybe he actually had fainted and was lying on the floor helpless.  I was kind of annoyed when he was just fine, but noisy.  (He did let me sleep in the next morning.  But he let the kids eat cereal over the rug.  Which I can't vacuum.  Grrrr...)

I got out of the shower and found this

My poor boys

***

So that's been the last couple weeks.  Everyone is healthy at the moment, a fact for which I am very grateful.  I know of some people who were sick for a week-- the fact that our bug only lasted 24 hours is a huge blessing.

I think it's time to put on some Christmas music and lug the shop vac up from the basement...

A Story About Gum

I don't chew gum any more.  I used to when I was in college, mostly because I'd be on campus all day, and it was an easy way to get a good, clean taste in my mouth after eating lunch (or whatever I ate back then?).  But chewing gum for longer than about five minutes makes my jaw ache, and now that I'm home most of the time, I just brush my teeth (or, let's be honest, eat something else!) if I don't like the taste in my mouth.  And since it sort of seems like a waste of money and isn't particularly good for your teeth and is waaaaaaaaay too likely to end up stuck somewhere I don't like, I rarely let my kids chew gum, either.

But still, I have this sitting in my cupboard:

And it's been there for over a year, and it will probably be a long while before I toss it out.  No, I don't hold onto it because I just love the color purple (although I do love purple!).  I hold onto it because I like the story of how I got it. 

It all happened when we flew to Seattle for my Grandma's 100th birthday.  Flying with five kids is no small feat, and the luggage we require is considerable (especially when you factor in carseats, strollers, a pack-n-play, and the necessary snacks for a 6-hour flight!).  So when we flew, we checked everything we could at the curbside, and then Craig dropped me off with some kids and a few carry-on items, and took the car to park it in the long-term parking lot.  Camille was getting hungry, so I searched for a chair so I could sit and feed her while we waited for Craig.  I didn't notice until she was happily eating that I'd sat right by the gate for a middle eastern airline. 

I should explain that when I did study abroad to Tanzania back in 1999, I mostly lived on the island of Zanzibar, which is about 98% Muslim.  So I spent four months seeing women almost always having their heads covered-- in Swahili, this covering was called a buibui, but I've never heard it called that anywhere else.  Most Zanzibar women at the time did not fully veil their faces, but on the rare occasion when we saw another Christian, it was always quickly obvious because they were the only women whose hair you could see.  But it's not like anyone looking at me would guess this information about me.  And I do realize that there are certainly some Americans who are not thrilled when they encounter a Muslim, especially at an airport or flying in a plane.  

Sitting with her chair backed up against my chair back was a woman wearing a black hijab that covered most of her face.  Ryder, being four at the time, was immediately curious about her and began asking me about her.  She was very friendly and talked with him, while I tried to smile in a way that I hoped would convey, "Don't worry, I'm not some crazy Islamaphobe!"  She was probably doing her best to also convey her niceness to me as well.  We talked about how difficult it is to travel with children, and she said that her four children were all back home.  I think she was flying back to them.

At some point during all of this, she asked Ryder if he would like to see her face, so he wandered over in front of her and she pulled down her hijab enough so that he could see her face.  Then all the kids wanted a turn, and she was very obliging.  And some time during all this, she gave my kids this packet of gum, which they were ecstatic about.

Before long, Craig arrived and Camille finished eating and we headed towards security.

This wasn't some big deal, life changing thing for me.  But at the same time, when I hear about people being afraid of other people-- both people who are afraid of Muslims, and Muslims here in America who are on the receiving end of that fear, I like to see this pack of gum and remember that it doesn't have to be like that.  That people can be friendly and respectful and learn from and teach one another.  That having children and airports-- and especially mixing the two!-- is something mothers all over the world understand.

And that something as simple as gum can bring a smile to anyone's face.

Vote of Confidence

There was a time, back in Manassas, when my best friend and I were both pregnant and seeing the same ob-gyn.  (Even though I had a homebirth with a midwife, I received dual care from both my midwife and a doctor.)  We were talking recently and comparing notes on this doctor-- who we both really liked-- and we realized one of the things she did that made us both happy: when we would come in for our post-partum care, she would say things along the lines of, "Well, in case you have another baby" or even, "I think you could have another..."

It's not that we thought she was encouraging us to have more babies (although, honestly, if she had been that would probably be a good business practice for her!), but it felt like she was telling us, "You're doing so well, you could totally have another kid and you'd be just fine!"  And it made us think maybe we were doing really well.  It was a small thing, but when you've just had a baby you're at your worst: you're sore and tired and fat and exhausted and overwhelmed by this new baby and your body feels like this alien form that you will never recognize again (did I mention you're also really tired?), and any boost to your confidence is really helpful.


Good for my doctor for talking to her patients like that.  I wonder if she has any idea how kind her words sounded in my ears.

This Is Your Brain on Clickbait

The other day my youngest kids were sick, I didn't have much to do during the day, and I pretty much sat around staring at my phone or holding crying kids (or begging them to sleep, because they didn't believe me that a well-rested body can heal itself faster).

By the end of the evening, I was a wreck.  I was screaming at Colton because he wouldn't stop playing with the lights (WHY IS THAT SO FUN????) and I was practically crying over how miserable my life was.

When I wrote in my journal that night, it began to hit me just how much time I'd spent on my phone reading about despicable people, because I am a complete sucker for headlines such as, "The 15 Worst Roommates Ever: You won't believe #4!" and dumb stuff like that.  I'd also discovered a tumblr page of terrible advice written to horrible people and gotten sucked into reading page after page of it...

I realized that my mind felt yucky after a day like that.  It was just like when you have those days where all you eat is junk food and then your grossed out by yourself.  But in my head.

I resolved to keep my distance from the internet the next day-- no facebook and no blogs.  (I did allow email and reading Dear Abby.  I'm only human, after all!)  And I had a much better day.  And I didn't hate my life.  I didn't scream at my kids (even when they were playing with the light switches).

Lesson learned.  Again.  And probably not for the last time, either (sigh).  I have real books to occupy my mind.  Push facebook back a bit.  And avoid clickbait like it's the plague.

Camille the Outdoorswoman

Camille is an outdoorsy little soul.  If anyone goes outside, she begs to join them, pleading, "Ow-shy!!!  Ow-shy!!!"  And her favorite time of the day is when it's time to go to the bus stop to pick up her siblings and she gets to run around on the sidewalk.

It's funny, because I think there was a time when I thought of myself as being outdoorsy, but eventually I realized that I'm really not.  I like the idea of being outside.  I love reading about nature.  But when I'm actually in the great outdoors, I'm usually too hot or too cold or there are bugs or it's too bright to read...  I'm kind of a wimp.  Not that I hate being outside, or something-- it's just not usually the zen experience I've managed to picture in my head. 

But I like that Camille likes being outside.  I'll have to be careful not to quash that in her.  (Maybe she'll help me learn to genuinely like it!)

About a month ago, we were having an outdoor evening-- Craig and I were sitting in camping chairs in the driveway while the kids played with balls and scooters and such.  Suddenly, a gust of wind picked up and scattered the leaves all around us.  Camille took one look, raised her arms in the air and began all-out screaming for joy.  She couldn't get enough of the leaves blowing in the wind!  Every time it happened, she'd start screaming again.  (And it really was happy screaming, which parents know is a pretty rare thing!)

So, yeah, she's likes being outside and she likes sports (well, balls, at least).  It will be fun seeing where this girl goes in life!

Just, you know, hanging out in the driveway