Mothers

Our parks recently reopened, so yesterday I took the kids to a less-popular one in hopes we’d be there alone, and I got my wish. After playing for about an hour, I noticed a large brown dog running toward us. There were some owners behind him so I didn’t think too much of it. We like dogs and will always pet them with the owner’s permission. I tried to pet this one as it approached, full speed. It became clear pretty quickly this wasn’t a normal dog, but rather a dog full of adrenaline and aggression and unable to control its own strength. He jumped up on John and knocked him to the ground. Then he jumped on top of Quinn, knocking her to the ground, scratching her chest, and biting (lightly-but enough to leave red marks) at her cheek. The owners came up behind it and as politely as I could I said “I think that dog is supposed to be on a leash.” The teenage girl replied that he had escaped from the house and they were trying to catch him. During this time the dog proceeded to knock Owen down and then came and jumped up on my chest, ripped a hole in my shirt, and knocked me down onto the bench behind me. Quinn came and sat by me crying and I decided we just needed to get the heck out of there. We gathered all our stuff up, but the dog would not leave us alone. With my arms full, I told my kids to follow me to the van. As we walked away, the dog knocked Owen down and was on top of him, mouth level with his head. What I knew was that this was a dog that had already ripped a hole in my shirt and bit at Quinn’s cheek and all I could imagine was it taking a much stronger bite out of Owen’s face. His owners were sort of trying to catch him, but given the fact that he was practically attacking my kids, I felt they weren’t really trying as hard as they should. As the dog hovered open-mouthed above Owen, I screamed (and I am NOT a screamer, folks) “Get your dog away from my kids!” Maybe I shouldn’t have yelled, but I was scared, and nothing was stopping the dog. I ran to the dog, yanked Owen out from under him, swung him up into my arms, and we all ran to the van. The dog followed us but luckily did not try to get in as I feared. We were all shaking when we closed the doors and Carly said, “I’ve never heard you scream like that.” I replied that it was just nature, that when I mom sees her babies being threatened that she would react as powerfully as she could to defend them. My kids were freaked out afterwards and Owen has since repeatedly told me he “didn’t like being attacked by the dog.” My thoughts were full of worry last night, knowing it wasn’t too big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, but also thinking that it could’ve been so much worse. And then my mind went to other mothers. Mothers carrying their babies across rivers to try to find a safe home. Mothers who are afraid to let their sons go on jogs for fear of what might happen to them on the street. Mothers crossing the Mediterranean on rafts, fleeing war torn countries to find safety. It is nature that these mothers are trying to protect their babies, and when I say I care about these things, it’s because I’m a mother too—and because I’m a human. I don’t know all the answers or any perfect solutions, but I know we have to care— we can donate to causes that help, vote for people willing to try to find solutions, speak out on issues that matter, and listen to stories of people who are experiencing life differently than ourselves. 

E pluribus unum

I have been a history/government/political science nerd my whole life. While other teens were watching (what were you watching? I don’t even know) I was watching NBC Nightly News with Tom Brokaw and rushing home from Wednesday night youth church activities to catch the new episode of The West Wing (still my all time favorite show, I’ve watched it through more times than I can count). I loved my high school AP History classes, my college history, sociology (my major), and political science (my minor, until I dropped it to graduate on time) classes. I have always loved this country and celebrated it with vigor. I’m the mom with the kids in the red, white, and blue outfits. But now, my heart hurts. There are a lot of things that have built over the last few years, and I won’t get into it because that is not the point of this post, but I feel my patriotism struggling. As the Fourth of July approaches, I just haven’t been feeling it. But throwing in the towel and just becoming bitter certainly didn’t feel right. I care about this country. I care about it becoming what it can be, working toward actually fulfilling its promise of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” for everyone, not just some. So many things are “broken”, but I can still love broken things. I feel I can work to listen when I need to, speak when I need to, and try to be the kind of American I know can make our country begin on the path to healing and justice. So I decided to think of how I could mark the 4th of July in a slightly different way — a way that fits what is needed right now, and a way that should have really been happening all along.

1) Talk about voting! Voting is going to be SO important in 2020 to turn the tone in our country away from aggression and bullying toward something more progressive and meaningful for everyone. White women fought for the vote. And then Black people fought for the unimpeded right to vote. There is so much history there, and the fight for suffrage is a lesson on just how important voting is. On Election Day 2012 I made little ballots for Carly for different choices throughout the day. That was a fun way to show kids how their vote matters. And if you aren’t registered to vote already, it’s the perfect time to do so.

2) Diversify the American experience. There are so many valuable American stories to tell outside of the traditional. I grabbed a few new books telling stories of children who immigrated to the US, one from Egypt and one from China. They celebrate the diversity that adds so much to what America means. The motto of the United States is E pluribus unum (you can show your kids the words on a coin or a dollar bill) and it means “Out of many, one.” America isn’t supposed to look just one way. Out of many skin tones and languages and beliefs, we are meant to be one. Inscribed on the Statue of Liberty is “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” I want my kids to know that that is what America should be.

3) Look outside the box for American history. We talk about Washington & Jefferson and Co all the time around the 4th, and this year I want to broaden the horizon when it comes to American history. There are so many women and people of color in our nation’s history that have overcome, achieved, and contributed to inspiring American history. I’ve decided to talk about a number of women this year. I found a gorgeous book called Herstory, and while it has women in history from around the world, I’m picking out a few Americans: Harriet Tubman, Katherine Johnson (I’ll be watching Hidden Figures with Carly too!), Rosa Parks, Rachel Carson, and Helen Keller. The Instagram page The American Moms also shares #WednesdaysWoman about women in American history, and Here Wee Read has a huge Amazon booklist with more options for Black men and women in U.S. history. Related to this, we are also celebrating Juneteenth for the first time this year. I listened to the First Name Basis podcast about it and highly recommend it to learn more, but Juneteenth really is when our country truly became the “land of the free.” Juneteenth and the Fourth of July can and should go hand in hand.

I was talking my wonderful husband's ear off about this and he said, "Its just like anything in life. If you don't admit to your mistakes and learn from them, you'll never get better." That is just it. Our country has its problems, but we have to face that history (and the present) head-on and teach it to the next generation, so we can all recognize it and see where we need to go. This 4th of July, I may feel a little different. There will still be red, white, and blue outfits, sparklers, BBQ, and fireworks (except not big fireworks, dang Covid), but I know there will be a sense of unfinished business. I hope we all feel that to a degree -- a feeling that there is still work to do. 

A January Experiment

I’m going to be perfectly honest: 2019 wasn’t a great year for me.  To sum it up quickly, while I have a particularly wonderful family and life, in 2019 I struggled to take care of my mental, spiritual, and physical health as one ought to. Little exercise, poor sleeping habits, and . . . all too often, too much time on my phone.

              The phone thing is interesting because I’m somewhat anti-technology as a mom. My kids don’t have their own devices and are rarely allowed access to mine. John plays Minecraft like once every 3 weeks. But there’s mom, checking Instagram yet again. One day John asked if he could play Minecraft. He had played a few days before and hadn’t read much or done anything else that day, so I responded, “Not today, there are better things you can do with your brain.” There are better things you can do with your brain. ZING. I don’t know where I came up with that one, but it struck me to the core.

              As 2020 approached I began wondering how I could make the next year much better than the last. Take better care of my body, go to bed earlier, yes . . . but as I prayed I got a resounding answer: step away from social media. In the interest of full disclosure, this isn’t the first time I’ve prayed that prayer, and this isn’t the first time I’ve received that answer. And each time I’d make a little effort to spend less time on my phone. But it didn’t last long. So I told Chris I was going to spend the entire month of January off social media.

              But why? I mean, I’m an adult (so I hear) and I should be able to use my phone responsibly. Right? I’m not saying I was on my phone every second all day, completely ignoring my kids. No, it wasn't extreme. But I knew I was on it too much. I could feel it. I could see it in how many times my kids had to call for me, how many times I said, “I’m sorry, could you tell me that again?” In general, there are so many things I love about it, particularly Instagram. I print Chatbooks that have become our family photo albums and memories, especially since I’ve abandoned this blog. I like keeping up on people I’ve known in all the places we’ve lived, seeing cute kids and cute houses and cute pets. But my main issues were three fold: 1) I was wasting so much time looking at everyone’s everything. 2) It would drag me down. Yes, I’m an adult, but I’m human, and between negative and mean comments and cynical posts and everyone having and being more and better than me (or so it unreasonably felt), it would just put me in a gray place. And 3) I was distracted. That dang phone was in my hand all the time and while I played Legos or sat at lunch or tried to read my scriptures or a book . . . it was sucking my eyes in.

              So January 2^nd I deleted both Facebook and Instagram off my phone and away we went. Was I perfect for a month? Not even close. I checked a number of times, first because the Royal family was experiencing some drama (I’ve been following them for 20 years, couldn’t stay away), then to access a few specific things, then to sell some things on Facebook, then because Kobe Bryant died and I JUST CAN’T. My heart has absolutely ached over that one. But I found social media made it worse, so I jumped back off.

              So, after that long back story, here’s what did happen:

First, the screen time on my phone when down by over FIFTY PERCENT that first week. I get a screen time report every Sunday morning and it was all “Your screen time went down by 56% this week.” That is a lot of time.

              Next, I read TEN books. I love reading. There is nothing like a good story that makes you think and feel or fascinating non-fiction that tells you something you didn’t know before. It makes your brain feel awake and alive instead of dull like the phone does. I typically consume (through both reading and audiobooks) about 2 books per month. I read 5 times as many books! It was so much fun.

              I’ve created a habit of reading my scriptures. Did I read them every day? No. But I read and studied them most days, when before I was “running out of time” more days than not. This is a priority in my life and I know that if I keep working on that, it will only increase the peace I feel day to day.

              I finished Owen’s baby book. Ha! Four years in the making, that thing. I mean, I have yet to do the three older kids’ books, but decided to tackle Owen’s first since it would be easiest to find the pictures. But it was so fun and led to me telling him lots of stories and all about when he was a baby. He loves it and calls it “my baby diary.”

              We introduced “country nights”. This was completely random and unplanned. One night we decided to watch Finding Nemo and then I decided to grab some Tim Tam cookies to go with it (it was during the biggest news coverage of the Australian fires) and we ended up coloring Australian flags and learning facts about Australia and it became “Australia night”. The following week we did Italy night, and then China night. The kids love them and we have a list of countries we want to do. They’re easy because, hey, we are eating anyway. Maybe this wasn’t a direct result of no social media, but it was a result of me being less distracted and using my time better.

              I read aloud to my kids. I read aloud to my kids when they are little a whole lot. Owen and I love to read stories together. But as the big three have become independent chapter book readers, I stopped reading to them. I have heard good things about reading to older kids, and one of the books I read this month was called The Enchanted Hour, all about the benefits of reading aloud as a family. So I finally made it a priority, using the evening down time when the kids were reading to themselves and I was sitting in the living room with them checking my phone. We read The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, and it was such a fun and special experience. Right after we finished, Carly (my super strong independent reader) said, “What book are you going to read to us next?!”

              I spent less money. And I never felt bad about something that didn’t fit into the budget. For better or worse, Instagram is a buyer’s heaven, with companies left and right advertising adorable things and making you feel like you need it. Reducing that was one of the biggest side benefits that I didn’t see coming.

              None of these things are necessarily groundbreaking. I have no doubt all of these things could still happen even without removing social media from my life. Lots of people have the appropriate balance, and moving forward I hope/plan on continuing these things while striking that balance. But they WEREN’T happening. I needed that step back. I needed the clarity of mind. I needed to be reminded of what was most important. I just needed a healthier relationship with technology. I feel a little silly saying that, but I think it’s a bigger issue in our society than most people let on. And I don’t want it to be one in my life anymore. I’m definitely not hating on social media or people who use it. Of course not! I love it; I love the good parts. I’m actually grateful for so many things about social media, the things I missed. I get regular uplifting spiritual messages from several accounts I follow. Book recommendations and discussions, creative mom tips, a good laugh from funny memes, tasty recipes, a small connection to people who are now far away.  That’s why I did this. To highlight the good parts, and to pinpoint and hopefully eliminate the bad.

              In the end, the biggest things that happened were the small things. Going to bed and realizing I didn’t have my phone and then not worrying about it, I’d find it tomorrow. Leaving it behind when we played in the snow or ran errands or went to the library. Not thinking about this post or that comment or this meme (don’t get me wrong, I love a good meme). It was surprising how many of my thoughts went to things I’d seen on my phone that day. Not that that is always bad, but without it, I found my brain thinking about all sorts of other things. And that brought me full circle, back around to what I told John that day: there are better things you can do with your brain. I can only hope and pray that the efforts and habits I’ve made will stick. That I’ll continue with the better balance, I’ll fill my life and brain with all the goodness the world has to offer, some of which is on a screen, but a majority of which is off. It was a lovely January, perhaps one of the best I’ve experienced —a good start to 2020.

our family of six.

I have four kids. That is kind of crazy. My mom has four kids. I still feel like, "Who's kids are all these?' Oh, they're mine. We've been a family of six for half a year. And maybe, just maybe we are getting used to it. We aren't good at it, by any means, but we sure do love it.

So how are we in April 2016? Pretty good.

In April 2016, Carly is doing great in first grade. After being behind in reading and needing to go to "book club" as they kindly called it, she has since caught right on up and no longer needs the extra daily help. She likes math, science, and art, but seems to care less about writing. She likes to "learn about ancient things" and about other countries. She can read books to John and Quinn. She had her first "late-over" with a friend from school who lives two houses down. She is silly and imaginative and full of life. She is a leader, but she can be bossy too. I make it a point to make sure she's learning the difference, because her leadership skills and the way she draws people to her can be used for so much good. She's spunky and all fun with Quinn and John, so I didn't expect her to be so sweet and completely smitten by Owen. They have a very special relationship, and I love how he brings out her soft side. She loves her daddy, and I pray she'll always turn to him and talk to him the way she does now. The first grade has brought on so many new conversations and it has me bracing for the coming years as life for her gets increasingly complicated. But I'm so grateful for the kid she is now, because shes a really great kid.

In April 2016, Quinn is beautiful and bouncy and fancy and sparkly and pink. She has been in dance class this year and it is the highlight of her week (and, quite possibly, her life). She is actually quite graceful, which I guess shouldn't surprise me but if you've ever seen me or Chris or even Carly dance, you'd notice Quinn was an impressive contrast. A few months ago I got her evaluated for her speech. Quinn has a sweet squeaky little voice. And she has a LOT to say. The trouble is, you can't understand a lot of what she is saying. It was getting to the point where she was frustrated, and sometimes her translators (John and Carly) couldn't even understand. So she qualified right away for speech therapy. She's been going once a week. Her class is just perfect for her: two other little girls and a young fun speech pathologist named Britney. We have fun practicing the sounds, and I'm so impressed by her ability to learn and adapt. Quinn likes "fancy things", and has strong opinions on what she wears. I've all but caved and her wardrobe is just about completely shades of pink and purple. She's loves her siblings. She and John are the best best friends. And she adores Owen. Her heart is as sparkly as her shoes.

In April 2016, John is very very . . . John. John is man's man. I often walk into the kids room or into the living room to find an arsenal lined up beautifully on his bed or the couch: light sabers, crossbow, chainsaw, hammer and wrench. Its slightly disconcerting, but endearing at the same time. John can be entertained for an extended period of time with two random objects he pretends are Star Wars space ships. This happened when he got his hands on two bottles of nail polish, except when he slammed them into each other one exploded, leaving red fingernail polish all over the carpet. John is a considerate and loving kid. Once on the way to speech Quinn was talking about how she wanted to play Barbies, and sometimes she could but sometimes she couldn't. As we watched her walk in, John sighed and said, "I really hope Quinn gets to play Barbies today." Oh, my heart. He loves Star Wars, yard work, getting his haircut ("shortcut" as he calls it) with his daddy, Pullman Building Supply, and Owen (I think there is a trend of fondness for Owen). I think little boys are one of my favorite things, and this one is one of the best.

In April 2016, Owen is the perfect piece to our puzzle. Oh my heck, he is the cutest thing ever in the history of the world. We are all smitten. I mean, he's been around for 6 months and all 5 of us spend half our time oooing and ahhhing over him. Will his novelty wear off? I can't handle him. He likes to grab faces and drool on everything. He laughs when Carly plays peek-a-boo, and gives amused smiles to John and Quinn's entertaining efforts. He often watches them like he'd give anything to keep up with them. He'll kick his legs like he wants to run, and he likes being wrestled and tickled by the daddy monster just like the big kids do. He is everything good. Our hearts are overflowing. And if the happiness in his eyes when he looks at us is any indication, he likes us back. As cliche as it might be, I don't know how we ever lived without him.

In April 2016, Chris and Erin are a hot mess. Chris's job is going well. He's had a lot of positive and exciting things happen in the last year, including a brand-spanking-new lab which is near completion and a new major proposition to start up in the fall. I've been slowly getting my feet back under me post-baby. Four kids is a lot of kids. Babies are a lot of work. Life is hectic. Kids, job, housework, yard work, and callings all beg for our attention. Tiny people sneak into our bed at night, cry for our attention every waking moment. Our life is so full of chaos. We don't sleep, our budget is tight, we can't go on that 10th anniversary trip we were thinking about, and when is the last time we even went on a date? But I have to say: life is so so beautiful. What a wonderful phase to be living, soaking up every minute with these people we have been entrusted with. We have each other and we have them. I have him and every second I thank my lucky stars that I do. Our kids bring us so much joy. Our little home is bursting with noise and energy and happiness. We have a favorite song that has kind of become "ours". The lyrics say, "The sound of little feet [is] the music we dance to week to week." These little feet are the symphony of our lives, and there is no one else I'd rather be dancing with.

{All these pictures were taken in Idaho at the beginning of April. The whole Thomas family got together, and it was wonderful. So naturally we needed pictures. Here's a few favorites from the whole crew:}

the big rescue.

"Blog" ends up on my To-Do list regularly, and it is never, ever crossed off. I could keep blogging with newborn twins, but baby number 4 sends me off into blog oblivion? And lots of other forms of oblivion, too. I don't think I'll ever "catch up", but I want to do better. This is our family record, and I love writing it and I love reading it.

Tonight, I want to remember something that happened yesterday.

We were planning to go on a walk between Conference sessions, but our apple tree really needed to get sprayed before we leave town (this past fall our apple harvest was enjoyed more by worms than by us.) So we decided to have Chris stay and spray, and I would walk the trail with the kids. Now, John and Quinn just go their bikes for their birthday and this was the first "major" ride we have undertaken. But it was sunny and the trail is pretty simple, so I had high hopes.

We were doing fine, going up a slight incline, when Quinn went tumbling off the side into the rocky dirt and plants. Her knees and hands were bleeding. I parked Owen and scooped her up. As I comforted her, we made the quick decision to turn around and head back to our van. What I didn't think about was that we had just gone up a slight incline, so turning around meant going down. I was still holding Quinn and checking her scratches when I heard John scream in terror. He had turned around, and his bike was racing down the path. He is such a new rider, he didn't know what to do. Faster than I could react, Carly (who was riding slightly behind him), leaped off her moving bike, which went crashing to the side. She ran after him, and just before his bike went crashing into the large rocks, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him off of his speeding bike. The bike crashed, and she held him while he cried in her arms. 

It was in incredible example of love and selflessness, and I was overcome by the Spirit as I watched. I started crying right there, thanking her for her goodness and courage. She simply said, "Its a good thing I'm so fast."

Being mom isn't easy. It often feels like I'm doing it all wrong, especially with Carly, who is so spirited and intense. But moments like that . . . it was a moment that taught me these people I'm raising are the way they are for a reason. They have divine attributes, and they are meant to do so much good. I'm so grateful I get to watch them grow, watch the people they become, and hopefully help them be what they are meant to be.

I'm grateful to be their mom.

happy holidays.

Owen's arrival has meant the holiday season passed in a chaotic, messy, beautiful blur.

October is typically my favorite month, and I had a hard time not enjoying it the way I typically do. Things aren't easy with a new baby, with recovery and exhaustion and adjustment. But we were able to have a pleasant October nevertheless. When Owen was almost 2 weeks old we headed to a tiny little pumpkin patch and u-pick flower field. We were experiencing a warm spell, and it was a beautiful evening. We picked pumpkins in shorts and as many free flowers as we'd like. We enjoyed fall foliage, Halloween pajamas, and festive activities at school and preschool. And we even managed to carve a pumpkin.

The kids costumes were fun this year. I had started asking them in September what they wanted to be, as I expected Owen to come mid-October. Carly had a hard time coming up with anything, which surprised me. She finally fessed up, and it turns out she wanted to be a black cat. That is just about the easiest costume ever, so I was down with that, and she looked adorable. She wore her ears and tail for a long time before Halloween actually arrived and it cracked me up to see her tail bouncing behind her.

Quinn, meanwhile, had no reservations: "A ballerina fairy with a fancy sparkly dress--dark pink, not light pink--and wings and a wand and a sparkly crown." Those requests sum Quinn up pretty well. Luckily, we already had it all except the dress, which I found on Amazon among flower girl and pageant dresses, and which she wore every day for about 3 weeks straight and still wears regularly. She was the pinkest thing you've ever seen, and she couldn't have been happier about it.

John also had a hard time choosing. But while Carly had a hard time because there were so many things to choose from, John had a hard time because he just didn't care that much. He was totally apathetic about the whole thing. Finally we went to the store and I told him he had to pick something. He found a red light saber, and really wanted it, and that is how we ended up with Darth Vader. He was a pretty awesome Darth Vader, though, and in the months since he has become a full-blown Star Wars nut like his father before him.

Sweetest Owen was a bunny. Because 1) bunnies are yummy, and 2) he is yummy. I had bought the hat over the summer, and found a little cotton tale and play carrot to go with it. He was the cutest thing on his first Halloween.

The main event brought a Halloween party at Carly's school, a ward trunk or treat and Fall carnival, and the big night itself. It was a blustery, crazy rainstorm the night of Halloween, but that couldn't stop these kids from candy. Chris took them and they were out for over 2 hours. It was some serious dedication, as they all came home soaked. Meanwhile, Owen and I hung out at home and watched Call of the Midwife, and the kids gave me all their Almond Joys. Everyone wins.

A blurry November later, and Thanksgiving week arrived. Grandma came to town and we had so much fun with her. The hardest thing about leaving Michigan is just how far grandma and papa are now. When you have your two sets of grandparents on opposite sides of the country, you're always too far from someone. We had a fun week with her. The day before Thanksgiving we went swimming. Thanksgiving day Grandma did most of the cooking. We went on a walk and played at the park and papa arrived just in time for Thanksgiving dinner. The next few days were filled with Chris and Papa doing lots of projects around the house and building the girls' new bunk bed.

Mimi and Grandpa joined the party on Friday night. We were awfully spoiled to have all four grandparents at our house at once. Pullman isn't exactly teeming with exciting things to do (or even places to eat), so we ended up going bowling. But, as it turns out, bowling is actually quite fun with the right crowd and we had a really good time.

Sunday was a special day, as Owen was blessed by his daddy in a circle of priesthood holders that included both of his grandfathers and my uncle. It was a freezing day, and the world was coated in white ice; perfect for a blessing day. We are so grateful our parents could be there. We are so grateful Owen is in our family. What a sweet way to finish Thanksgiving weekend, because we really do have so much to be thankful for.

Our company left, and the Christmas season began. Its so easy to feel overwhelmed by everything Christmas brings, and I felt more than once that I wasn't doing good enough, that I was barely holding it together. My wonderful husband gave me more than one pep talk, and I finally "came to terms" with our sweet and simple Christmas. But now that it is behind us, I have to say it has been really really wonderful,

We went ice skating with Chris's department, and the kids loved it. They were a little confused why it was so hard, as we had watched Olympic figure skaters the night before in preparation, and they make it look so easy. 

Pullman has been getting a so much snow. I think we got exactly one snowfall last year, so I've been rather impressed. I didn't know Pullman had it in her. It is fun that the kids are old enough to bundle up and send out into the yard. Chris has been home during the break, and helped them make a most impressive snowman. I think he's over shoveling the driveway, though. Owen went out into his first snowfall. He though it was a bit too cold and a bit too bright, but he was delicious in his bear suit.

The season did bring a Christmas tree with ornaments and lights and presents underneath. The kids loved looking at the tags and finding their names. The tree was such a tender mercy. Lately Owen has been either sleeping through the night or going the extreme opposite and being awake for 2-3 hours in the middle of the night. When you have a lighted tree in your living room, those middle of the night waking periods are just a little more pleasant. Christmas break arrived and it was been so nice to have Carly home. We made cookies, wrapped presents, sent out a few Christmas cards, and snuggled on chilly mornings.

Christmas Eve came entirely too quickly for my taste, but the kids would disagree. On Christmas Eve morning Carly asked "How many more minutes until this day is over?" Haha! We did our traditional breakfast out, and enjoyed going to our friends' house in the evening. The night brought new pajamas, The Polar Express and Luke 2, cookies for Santa, and falling asleep in the glow of Christmas lights.

Christmas morning was a success. We had a desire to keep things a bit more low key and simple this year. The kids got so much last year that they didn't/couldn't really appreciate it. This year I think we got it just right. A lot of fun things, but some useful and out-of-the-box things too. Carly got a white board from Santa, and she totally loves it. Every day since she is writing, drawing, doing math, and making mazes. Quinn got a whole lot of pink, fancy, sparkly things, including some new outfits to wear to dance. John got a chainsaw, a light saber, and a crossbow (among other things). He is man's man. Owen got a whole bunch of stuff I really wanted to get him but would never justify buying any other time. Tiny babies are fun to buy for ;).

On Christmas Day we opened presents and then spent the entire day in our pajamas playing with our gifts. It really was a perfect day. We are now enjoying the remainder of Christmas break. I love that Chris's career will always allow him to spend a great deal of Christmas break at home. We decided not to travel this year, and our snowy Christmas staycation has been just want the doctor ordered. Together with my people in my home is the best place to be. 

What a whirlwind of a holiday season. There were many days I had to take deep breaths and remind myself it would be easier next year. But I'm grateful I was able to find enough peace to enjoy this year. Because 6, 3, and newborn are some really wonderful ages to celebrate the most wonderful time of the year. 

Owen Christopher.

On October 4th, we welcomed Owen Christopher to our family.

It was been a wild but oh-so-sweet seven weeks.

That is a story for another time.

Today is the story of Owen's birth.

Around the time September turned to October, Carly complained of an itchy head. I checked her scalp and noticed irritation. I looked closer and found lice nits, and one single live bug. I was almost 38 weeks pregnant. I burst into tears. Apparently it is a somewhat common thing with elementary school kids, but I was on the verge of having a baby. This was too much. 

We treated Carly--chemical shampoos and combing out every strand of that crazy thick hair every day. We stripped beds. We bagged stuffed animals, We vacuumed, We sprayed. This was extreme nesting to say the least. Luckily, Carly's low pain tolerance seemed to work to our advantage, because I only ever found one live bug. We seemed to have it more or less under control on Friday, October 2nd. But we had to keep combing and washing bedding for at least a week.

On the 2nd I shared the below lovely picture of my girth. 38 weeks and looking it. I was at the point where people looked at me nervously when I was in public. I had been so ready to have that baby early, but with the lice surprise, was now hoping he'd hold off. But babies have minds of their own.

On Saturday October 3rd I woke up between 6 and 7 to a contraction. I'd been having Braxton Hicks and round ligament pains for months. Previous experience told me this was the real thing. They came every 20 minutes for a while, and gradually got closer. At 10 minutes apart, I was pretty sure we were going to have a baby. I was overwhelmed. That day was General Conference. We were going to enjoy the sessions and go to a fall festival at a pumpkin patch in between. I was really looking forward to it. I had just gotten over my lice emotional breakdown. I was tired.

As crazy as it sounds, one of my "goals" this baby was to not look like a wreck. My two previous births came in the middle of the night, and I was just a mess. So on this day, as my contractions progressed, I took a shower and did my hair and make-up. I was going to look presentable this time around. You just see. But then, the contractions started to slow down. They got further and further apart. We called the hospital and they suggested I lay down and try to get them to stop--after being in labor all day! My parents had driven 5 hours, about half way to us. I called them and they decided to turn around and go home. I developed a migraine, and went to bed.

I woke up -- in the middle of the night! of course! -- to the hardest contraction yet. A few minutes later was another one, A few minutes later came another. I was moaning through them, trying to keep sleeping. But they kept coming, harder and harder. It was time to go. I called and told my parents, who, after 10 hours of driving, had just arrived home! They were going to get some sleep and come back in the morning. They are the best of people. We called our wonderful friend and she came over in the middle of the night to stay on our couch, and then took our kids to her house the next day. We headed to the hospital. This was our third drive in the middle of the night to the hospital with me in labor. I had washed off my make-up, my hair was messy, and I was exhausted. Guess those glamorous post-birth pictures just aren't in the cards for me, but that is ok. I can't imagine it any other way.

By the time we got there, I was in some serious pain. They checked and I was between a 5 and 6, but baby's head was still high. It was epidural time and I couldn't wait. So they called Ed. A little later a man in jeans and a sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head comes rolling in with a cart. I thought it was the janitor, I kid you not. It was Ed. This was the person that was going to stick a needle in my spine? I felt a wave of panic. But Ed chatted with the nurses and with my doctor so apparently he didn't come in randomly off the street, even though that's how he looked. And in the end he gave me the most lovely epidural. While we were waiting for the epidural to take, Ed and my doctor discussed cycling around Coeur d'Alene. I don't know why, but that is one of my most vivid memories of my labor.

After chatting with my doctor (by the way, small towns have their downsides but they also have their perks--my wonderful doctor was there for the entirety of my labor, and didn't just come in at delivery), we decided to break my water to help baby drop. Chris and I were both exhausted after a long day of contractions, continued lice prevention care, and general there's-a-baby-coming stress. My doctor suggested we both get some sleep before he broke my water, and we were in favor of that. I was warm and numb and settled in for a nice nap.

I woke up to a wave of nausea. A nurse came in just then and I told her I was going to throw up. Then my vision went fuzzy. I was going to pass out. As the blackness started to take me, a whole lot of people came rushing into the room and machines started beeping. Chris woke in a daze. They put an oxygen mask on me and turned me to my side. Somewhere in there, I felt my water break. Everything happened fast and my consciousness was blurry. But the oxygen helped bring me back. My doctor checked me. I was at a 10 and baby's head was all the way down. He said what likely happened was that baby's head fell really fast (probably because of relaxation from the epidural) and that pressure caused a drop in my blood pressure. But it resulted in our little boy being ready to come. So much for my nap. 

It took just under an hour of pushing to get our boy into the world. This was the hardest pushing I have had to do. At one point I was on the verge of tears and said, "He's never coming out!" It turns out little Mr. was sunny side up. Afterwards my doctor said it probably added 30 minutes of pushing and a pound of baby weight pressure to the experience. So that was fabulous. But he came. It was shocking to see him. My entire pregnancy I had a hard time wrapping my mind around another baby, and here he was! He was really there all along. He was born at 4:55 am, weighing 7 lbs 14.5 oz. And he was absolute perfection. 

Our boy came out with the most peaceful demeanor. Oh, he is a piece of heaven. There aren't even words.

As for his name? Naming this boy felt hard, but I'm not sure it really was. Owen has been a favorite name of mine since I was a little girl. My dad is Jedd Owen, and I always thought it was such a great name. We discussed many others along the way, but Owen had always been my favorite. I just needed Chris to catch up! We both really liked Henry, too, but Chris wanted to call him "Hal" and I just couldn't get with that. By early September I was 100% sure on Owen, and Chris was at like 90%. I knew he was serious when I asked to order a hat with the name on it and he approved. At worst we were just out a little money, right? We tossed around a few middle names--names of men we love. There are simply too many. But I got top choice. I wanted his middle name to be after his daddy. So in the end, our sweet boy shares his name with my two favorite men: my daddy and his daddy. Owen Christopher. 

We spent that day trying to catch up on rest and soak in our Owen. I could tell I was a little rusty. Late in the day the nurse asked if he had had a dirty diaper yet. Oh, diapers! I forgot about changing diapers. I hadn't changed him all day. But he was a good little nurser from the get-go. The doctor put him straight on my chest after delivery, something I've never had before. They also did delayed cord cutting, which explained his red hue later on (I thought he was really hot! haha! Am I a first time mom?) But quite the opposite, Owen had a hard time keeping his temperature where it should be. He was taken at one point to the nursery warmer, and they kept him bundled up the whole time. He didn't even get a bath until he got home. But by the time it was time to go, he was doing well.

So, by Sunday evening it was time to bring our crazies to meet baby brother. My big kids looked SO big after spending the day with such a tiny baby. They were so excited to see him (though, they may have been more excited to see mimi and grandpa, who had finally arrived after two days of driving). They were so sweet, looking at his tiny features. John, our tender-hearted John, was absolutely beaming over his baby brother. Over the last 7 weeks, John has easily been the most interested, sweet, and helpful. They all love Owen, but John has something a little extra. It was surreal to see what had become two different worlds in my mind -- kids at home vs baby at the hospital -- combine. But it felt so good to have us all together. 

We brought Owen home on Monday. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. We were going home to chaos, but I was just ready to be in my place with my people (and my mommy!). My harder delivery meant a somewhat extended recovery. Caring for a newborn while trying to keep up with three busy older kids has on more than one occasion resulted in tears (from mostly me, but sometimes them). We found lice in Quinn's hair when Owen was 4 days old, and started that insanity all over again -- even more thoroughly. It was wild, but it was so so good. We have a lot of love, and that's what matters most.

We are all smitten over our Owen. I wrote early in my pregnancy that he was the missing piece to our puzzle, and I was certainly right. We wouldn't be complete without him.