year one letters.

Dear Quinn,

I don't know if you know this, but you've healed me more than once. Your daddy used to joke that people would call you "Dr Quinn Medicine Woman" if we named you Quinn. I guess the shoe fits. When I struggle or hurt, particularly last summer when I struggled and hurt a lot, I would sit next to your crib and watch you sleep. In all the chaos of our lives, in all the darkness I felt, in all the screaming from John and tantrums from Carly, I sat and watched you and felt the presence of God. You healed me on those days, you made it so I could keep going just a little longer. When you were a newborn I joked that you were "my sanity". Turns out is was more than a little true.

Quinn, you are the sweetest thing I've ever known. You have a heavenly disposition. You are always squealing and laughing and smiling. Though, you are reserved for strangers and cameras. You are go-go-go, climbing and getting into things and exploring. You love kisses and clapping. You love love love "dada!" Your face scrunches when you smile and your hair is so soft, I still love to bury my face in it. 

I'll never be able to put into words exactly what you are, how you are. So I hope I never forget. 

Dear John,

If Quinn is my sanity, you are my insanity. You have this piercing scream not even a mother could love. You are needy and whiny. Me and daddy always joke that Quinny is sugar, Carly is spice, and you are red pepper flakes. But my boy, you've got these ears I love to nibble. And when I say "kiss", you wrap your little sausage arms around my head and plant a big open-mouthed juicy one right on me. And when you are happy, you are SO happy. You have this little nerdy chuckle I hope you keep forever. You love to play, you love to laugh, you love to wrestle, you love to be loved.

John, you're such a different creature from your sisters, and because of that you've thrown me for a loop more than once. You've taught me to be my very best self, and you've shown me how I can be my very worst self. You have challenged me, and that must be why I love you so. You have a most special place in my heart. 

You are a good boy, John. Such a stinking good boy.

My sweet babies,

You hear a lot of mothers say that their first child makes them a mother, and their second child makes them even more so. This could not be more true for me and you. You have taught me a greater selflessness than I knew I was capable of; a greater love than I knew I had capacity for. As I have struggled for you, I have a greater understanding of who I am and of God's love for all of us. 

My babies, you love each other. When John got his little surgery, he was out for the count on the first day, just sitting lethargically and in pain. Quinn looked like a lost puppy. She looked at you, John, wondering when you were going to join her. It broke my heart, but made my heart soar. For all your differences in personality, for all the times you make each other scream, steal each other's toys, and slam each others heads in the door, you two just love each other. And I love that. I call you the dynamic duo, and you most certainly are.

In the last year I have asked countless times why you both came at once. But now, a year later, I can't imagine it any other away. I guess that is why they say hindsight is 20/20.

Dear Carly,

This year hasn't only been a big one for the babies and me and daddy, and for you as well. You have one year of big sisterhood under your belt and I dare say you have succeeded beyond anything I could have expected. The way you love "your babies", and the way they love you is just about more than I can take. Not to say its perfect. There is screaming and pushing and tackling (though, that is often done in love) and fighting over toys. But there is a whole lot more laughing and playing and bouncing and sharing. The other day I was in the kitchen and I heard John giggling. I peeked around the corner to find him at the closed bathroom door. He would stick his fingers through the crack, and you would grab them and push them back out. Then I saw your little fingers come out, and he grabbed them, giggling all the while. It was the sweetest scene. You have recently started calling Quinn "my best friend" and you randomly tackle John with hugs and kisses and say "I gave John kisses because I love him!" You are so good to them.

You have such a good heart. You love being helpful. You take pride in your goodness, your love for your babies, and in big sisterhood. I'm repetitive when I say this, but I'm so grateful they have you and you have them. The three of you are the best of friends. 

Happy one year of big sisterhood, sweet girl. You survived it along with the rest of us.

Dear kids,

Daddy and I could do a lot of things if we didn't have you all around. We could go to dinner and movies, we could travel, we could keep our home clean and even sleep all night long. We'd never step on smashed banana or find chewed up crackers on our clothes. We could have quite the life. 

But we'd never get little soggy kisses. We'd never have chubby fingers shoved in our mouths and exhausted little faces buried in our shoulders. We'd never hear baby giggles. We'd never have tickle fights. We'd never smell you fresh from heaven. We'd never witness first smiles, cheer on first steps, or encourage first words. 

You are our greatest adventure. 

We love you. 

We love you. 

We love you.

Love, Mom

two turn 1.

In a shocking development, Quinn and John turned 1 yesterday.

If I hadn't felt every. single. minute. of it, I wouldn't believe it.

What a funny thing time is . . . how it crawls painfully slow and flies painfully fast all at once.

This year has been long and hard.

But it has been short and sweet.

That is what having kids will do to you.

We started off our celebrations on birthday eve/Oscars night. We invited a few friends over for a "Look, We're All Still Alive!" dinner. I did the dinner to the theme "We Go Together". I asked my super talented friend to make a print that I could use at the dinner and later put in their room. She did awesome; I love it. We had food and treats, let the kids wear each other out, and caught a few glimpses of Oscar fashions. After everyone headed home and the kids were in bed, I wrapped half of the presents and brought out the birthday clown. Turns out having two birthdays on the same day and lots of loving family means A LOT of presents, so I just wrapped the ones that seemed like they'd be fun to open. And we didn't quite get their birthday clown "presents" done in time, so I had to improvise with some construction paper. But considering he had gone missing and it took forever to find him, we were all just thrilled he was there (especially Chris).

[the big one-year-olds on the morning of their birthday. its tradition.]

Chris managed to sneak away from school early on the big day, and we headed to a fun local pet store. It has a little stream with giant fish and a bridge, lots of aquariums, snakes, birds, hamsters; everything a tiny person could want. But not dogs or kitties. Thank goodness. Carly was convinced we were going to the pet store to get a puppy.

Carly loved looking at the animals, though the snakes and spiders were declared "creepy". I, personally, have parrot phobia and the giant red parrots gave me the heebie-jeebies. John stared wide-eyed, and tried to grab the fish and feed the parrots his chubby little fingers. And Quinn. Poor Quinn grasped Chris's shoulder and constantly darted her eyes around, totally unsure. She was just happy when we all made it out alive. It made me very excited for some warm sunshine and the zoo.

We headed home for dinner and on to presents! As it turns out, 1-year-olds don't particularly grasp the concept of presents. John just really wanted to play with my iPhone, and Quinn enjoyed perching on top of the large boxes. Carly swooped in and saved the day, teaching them the fine art of present opening. They were entirely too spoiled, and we now have a lifetime supply of toys.

Last but not least, the highlight of any 1st birthday celebration: cake. We sang and blew out candles to each baby individually. And Carly once again came to their aid, blowing out candles that they were both just trying to grab.

No surprise here: the cake was a hit. I remember Carly not wanting to get particularly messy on her 1st birthday. Such was not the case this time around. Quinn, in particular, is the queen of messy eating and did not disappoint. And I think it was the first time in ever that she out-ate John. They were both deliciously cute and thrilled. And while so much about twindom is hard, having two cake-covered babies at once just about made up for it.

We made it.

Year one is in the books.

We love these kids so much it hurts.

It was a beautiful mess of a year.

We are just really good at beautiful messes.

Happy Birthday, Q & J.

We're glad you joined us.

love and other drugs.

We've had ourselves a February to remember.

Ambulance rides, sparkly shoes, and circumcisions have filled our days.

Its always a party in the C House.

About two and half weeks ago, the girls were sick. On a Thursday morning, Carly puked 4 times before 9:00. We were set to drop our kids off at a friend's house so Chris and I could attend the viewing and funeral of a sweet friend, our bishop's wife, together. Instead, Chris attended the viewing, and I was blessed to attend the beautiful funeral. At the end of the funeral, the queasiness I had been feeling turned to hot flashes, dizziness, and intense nausea. I thought I was going to have to get up to go throw up. I made it to the end, and rushed out (pretty classy . . . rushing out of a funeral). I got home, and thought I'd be ok, so Chris went off to campus. And for the next 5 hours, I puked and, you know, other things you do when you have a stomach virus. It was constant. I have never been so violently ill in my life. I could not keep anything in my body. I was texting Chris, and my first ones were calm . . . but my last one only read "Hurry". Angels watched my children for two hours while I rotated from bathroom to bed. Carly, that amazing girl, played with John (Quinn slept) so sweet. At one point she came to my door and called for me. "Carly, I'm so sick," I croaked. She closed the door and I heard her go use the bathroom all by herself without complaint. That is a big deal for her. I was so proud.

Chris finally arrived. He brought me soup and Gatorade. I drank a few sips of Gatorade and immediately threw it up. I went upstairs while he watched the kids. I was standing in the upstairs bathroom when I realized I had absolutely nothing left. My body was done. My head started going fuzzy, and I laid down on the floor before I collapsed. I could hardly move, and my vision was fading. Our bathroom cabinets have no padding on them, and when you slam them they make a really loud noise, a trick I learned from the twins. I reached out and slammed the cabinets over and over so Chris could hear me. He came up the stairs, and found me laying there. I couldn't move, I could hardly talk, and I was fading. He called a few people. He asked if I needed help, and all I could croak was "Yes". I knew I did. I could not move my body; I was telling it to move, I was telling it to speak, but it wouldn't. Chris decided to call 911, and I felt relief.

The EMT guys came and tried to get me to wake up. I kept humming at them so they knew I could hear them. It was crazy, because I could hear everything, and my mind was thinking, but I couldn't use my body. It was a very scary feeling. They wrapped me up and carried me down the stairs in a tarp, then put me on a stretcher. I could hear the babies screaming. I managed to open my eyes and saw Carly jumping on the couch. She looked totally excited. "Can I watch? Can I help them? Can I go in the big truck?" Luckily the sight was not traumatizing her at all. Great friends helped with the kids, and Chris bounced back and forth from hospital to home.

The ambulance took me to the hospital and I was in the ER for 4 hours while they pumped me full of IV fluids. Everything they gave me, I lost, and every time they stood me up, I went fuzzy and nearly passed out. On the third try, I did pass out, and the doctor decided to admit me. Thanks to Zofran and Imodium they got my symptoms to stop by the time I went upstairs; now I needed to be re-hydrated  During the first 24 hours of my stay I received 11 liters of IV fluid. They took me off the IV my second night, and I was sure glad to get rid of the little robot that followed me around and beeped at me whenever it didn't like the position of my arm. 

I dare say the worst part of my stay was the fact that they admitted me to the cardiac area. They were concerned about the impact the dehydration and fainting had on my heart, so they kept a monitor on me. But the Cardiac floor . . . people, eat healthy and exercise so you never have heart problems. I wasn't allowed to shower, and my diet was the "cardiac diet" meaning no sodium or taste or goodness. Plus, it was gluten free. I could not eat the dry plain meats and mushy veggies they brought me. There was no way I was going to recover without food, so Chris may have sneaked me a few things. But when you have a baby it is like this wonderful world of happy pink nurses and endless chocolate milkshakes. The cardiac area is NOT. My second day was spent making sure I was good to go, watching Vampire Diaries, and waiting around for a doctor to release me. I was weak and nauseous for about 5 days after my release, and my mother-in-law, who came up right away to watch the kids, stayed a few extra days until I got my feet under me. Unfortunately, both she and Chris had their own dance with the same sickness, and it was a little wild. For the record, we have no idea what it was. The doctor thought it was possibly the norovirus, but we never received word and don't think we will. But reading about the norovirus, and how it is fast and furious, makes me think there is a good chance that is exactly what it was.

In the week following my release, Chris and I both felt a lot of fear and anxiety. I had trouble sleeping; he  had trouble leaving (which he had to do overnight to a conference). I felt so fragile. In the wake of our friend's passing, I had told Chris I was feeling very mortal. When you are young, years are long and your whole life is ahead of you, but now I feel the years flying, my babies growing, and my body aging. I know I'm young, but I'm not as young as I once was. And this experience showed me just how fragile we can be. It took a lot of prayer and talking for us to start to feel normal again, and we are still working on being fully at peace.

~

~

Two weeks after (to the day) my hospital adventure, John was scheduled for one of his own. His little boy part is unique, shall we say, and when he was born the OB could not circumcise him. He needed to be fixed a bit and circumcised by a urologist. It would not be a typical circumcision and would require general anesthesia.  We had two visits with the urologist, and set up the surgery for Valentine's Day. Isn't that special?

In a blessing I can not be more thankful for, the whole experience went off without a problem. He had food restrictions, and he actually handled it really well, not freaking out until right before surgery. That was a big deal for a kid who gets mad when breakfast is late. I was able to rock him to sleep right before they came to take him away, so he didn't scream and reach for us; they just rolled him away peacefully. That was a huge tender mercy for me, as I was already shedding tears when the OR nurses came to get him. They ended up giving him a "baby epidural", which only effected his hip area. I was nervous about this, but the doctors said it would mean they wouldn't have to use narcotics. The urologist loved it for babies, so we went for it, even though it added to my anxiety. But I sure loved my epidurals, so I thought I'd give that gift to John, too. Ha! 

We waited in the surgical lounge, and our beeper went off once with an update phone call from a nurse in the ER. About 45 minutes later, the urologist came to tell us how everything went just perfectly. And shortly after that, our boy was waking up. When we got to him, he was fussy and disoriented from the anesthesia.  I took him and calmed him and he fell asleep. He slept for a while in recovery, and after they saw that he could hold liquids without vomiting, they sent us home. His recovery has been so much better than expected. He didn't move too much the day of the surgery, but these two days following he has been crawling and playing like nothing happened. Then once in a while he will scream out in pain, poor kid. But he is healing quickly, and after all the worry and anxiety we felt about the whole experience, we are thankful to have it behind us and to have had it go so well. 

John's surgery took us back to the hospital where he and Quinn were born almost exactly a year before. I parked in that same garage and walked through that same lobby over and over again as I went to see, rock, and feed that sweet teeny tiny boy with the feeding tube in his nose. He wouldn't stop sleeping to eat; now we won't stop eating to sleep. My heart was full and my emotions on the surface. We are so very blessed to have children so healthy that these relatively minor experiences scare me so much.

~

~

In the middle of all this craziness came the season of love. I do love myself a holiday, and I have a particular fondness for the smaller ones (St Patrick's Day is my super favorite; I'm so excited!). Despite our special brand of turmoil, we celebrated Valentine's to the fullest. We made Valentine's for uncles, aunts, grandparents, and great-grandparents. Carly cut them out herself and wrote letters on all of them. She even wrote out the entirety of "Mimi", a simple word, but her first full word other than her name. She also licked all the envelopes and placed the stamps. We had lots of cute matching sister outfits, 5 days of Valentine's prizes, yummy treats, a preschool party and a playgroup party (both put on by yours truly . . . have I mentioned I love myself a holiday?), and heart covered doors telling our kids just what we love most about them. I do love our three amigos quite a bit. They are beautiful, amazing, fun kids, and while they bring a whole lot of chaos to our lives, they also bring a whole lot of perfection. And my baby daddy? Well, he has cleaned more of my puke than any man ought to have to clean for anyone. If that's not true love, I'm not sure what is. I'm forever grateful for my best friend; God blessed me with the best.

In January we had a little photo shoot for the Valentines we were going to send out. And I was reminded why we don't pay for professional photography in our current phase of life. 

But after deciding to keep it "real life", and a little PicMonkey magic, we found a winner.

It's been a wild and wacky February, to say the least.

Chris and I attended the temple today, and in the car we talked about how we would just like a bit of calm.

Normal and boring would be really nice.

I'm not sure the C House does normal and boring, but if nothing else . . . 

here's to no more hospitals.

xoxo.

silver white winters.

Notes on January:

• Chris and I didn't exchange Christmas gifts this year, but instead had a 24-hour getaway to Ann Arbor. We went to Ikea, we ate, we sat and watched an entire movie, we slept through the night. The best part was waking up to silence, not to an alarm or someone screaming through the monitor. We ate at the Melting Pot, which was yummy and a fun experience. The next day for lunch we went to a famous deli, Zingerman's, where we had incredible sandwiches (best GF bread I've ever tasted), awesome soda you mix yourself (black cherry + cola was my fav), and divine potato salad. I'd drive to Ann Arbor just to go to lunch. Yum. 

• We came home from Ann Arbor to a hot little boy. Chris's family, who had watched the kids for us (thank you!) headed home, and I took John's temperature. I'm not the kind of mom that jumps to take her kids to the doctor, especially the ER, but John's 104 degree temperature sent us out the door. Five hours, and way too much waiting, later we headed home with a prescription for antibiotics and a vague diagnosis. His temp maxed out at 104.5 the following day, the largest number I've ever seen on a thermometer, but steadily declined. However, the antibiotics tortured the poor boy, and after 5 days I called the pediatrician and he gave me permission to stop early. Instantly, I tell you, he was happy John again. Not sure how we are going to deal with that issue in the future.

[sick John; happy Quinn]

• Quinn got a hand-me-down coat from a friend in the ward. It is gold, and the hood has white "fur" trim. And it is so cute it hurts inside. Especially when she crawls around in it. I die. We call her the Snow Princess.

• John got a haircut, as previously mentioned. He looks really old, and seriously handsome. That boy. Carly got a haircut of her own. Her tangled ends were causing quite the problem when we brushed her hair, so we needed them gone. Sadly, her beautiful baby curls went with them. Her hair is still beautiful, just looks so much shorter, and it hurts my mama's heart that those baby curls are gone.

• Carly doesn't nap anymore. I always said I'd make her nap until Kindergarten. Surprise, surprise, she had different plans. During our Christmas trip we didn't really enforce naps, so she fell out of the routine. She really does fine without them, and bedtime has been moving earlier while she still wakes up at the same time in the morning. I am trying to do "quiet time" with her, but am finding it difficult since she sees it as a punishment. So I'm flexible. I'll take the time to read with her or do a little craft or something that is hard to do with the babies around. And when I'm tired I will tell her it is time to rest. Sometimes she lies on the couch; sometimes she kisses me on the cheek and tells me to "sleep good". Both work for me.

[clockwise: babies love Wheel of Fortune, hydrating, John playing with golf balls, snug sleeping babes.]

• I have a miracle to share with you. On Tuesday afternoon after the babies' naps I thought we'd run to Target. Carly has been a little rough with the babies and I came out of the bathroom to find her, I kid you not, with both babies in headlocks, pushing their faces into the floor. She was trying to play, it just wasn't working well. And they were screaming. I had repeatedly warned her against tackling them in any form, so she needed to go to time out. Instead of going relatively peacefully, she freaked out. So I took her to her room for some personal time. I was down with the babies 10 minutes later and heard her playing happily, so I thought we'd go. Quinn crawls over to me whining and clingy. She had been clingy all day. She climbs up me and . . . pukes. Over and over and over. Puke fountain, people. I just sat there and let it come. It was a huge ordeal to get it all cleaned up, especially since John was extremely interested in eating it (I gagged over that one) . . . But the point is: if Carly hadn't had thrown a tantrum, Quinn would have puked ALL OVER Target. I've never been so grateful for the "terrible 3's".

[Q showing her standing skills, sweet Q worried about the Beast, full couch during tv time, splashing in puddles.]

• The little chalkboard in our kitchen currently reads "Silver White Winters that Melt into Springs". Did you even know that was a line from "A Few of My Favorite Things"? I didn't until recently. It is my new favorite. I'm not a fan of cold or winter, but it has its beauty. And I particularly love when it melts away into spring. January is typically hard. I usually struggle as the days crawl, the dark evenings come early, and we all feel cabin fever. But this January has been rather nice. It helps that the weather has not been too bad, a few cold spells, a little snow. But not too bad at all. It also helps that we have a nice little routine: preschool and library on Tuesday, playgroup on Wednesday, swimming lessons Thursday evening, with Monday and Friday free to stay at home and not worry about anything. All the sudden we're at February, a new favorite month of mine, where we have Valentine's and the twins' birthday to look forward to.

[Carly loves swim lessons: "I'm like Ariel!"]

Life is good in the C House.

Granted, I actually wrote this post 4 days ago, and I just got home from the hospital after a 911 call and a 2-day stay, but that is another story for another time. We are all back under one roof, and I couldn't feel more blessed.

xoxo.

impossible. 11 months young.

One short month until the big ONE.

Crazy.

At 11 months old, Quinn . . .

-loves to climb, and it quite good at it. I have on more than one occasion walked into a room to find her standing on the couch or perched on top of a big diaper box.

-is a lousy, frustrating, messy eater. I think it is a texture thing, but nowadays when you bring food toward her mouth she whips away like you are trying to give her poison. She does, however, like applesauce, cheesesticks, yogurt, yogurt bites, pancakes, and Ritz crackers.

-makes the cutest sounds ever in history. She has this little squeal that sounds like "Yeah!" so it is cute when you ask her something and is sounds like she is responding excitedly. 

-is getting longer, thicker hair. It no longer stands up like it used to, and can hardly be described as fuzzy anymore, though it is still so soft. I love burying my face in it. And, it is now a lovely shade of strawberry blonde.

-has started standing on her own for seconds at a time. It was making her nervous, but today she was sitting on her knees and just popped up on her feet like no big deal. Who does she think she is?

-she likes to carry things around in her hand as she crawls around causing havoc: toy cooking utensils, toy thermometer, a little mallet . . . anything that resembles a scepter. 

-is sweet as sugar. She loves giving kisses, and gets a big grin on her face and snuffs excitedly after she does. She has the sweetest little smile. She snuggles up on my shoulder, something Carly never really did. When I lay on the ground she will come up and snuggle up by my neck and chest, and she does the same thing to Chris when he gets home at night. I cannot express what a wonderful little spirit she is. Chris and I just marvel at her.

~

At 11 months old, John . . .

-sleeps like a 2-month-old. He is driving us kind of crazy, as he as been waking up 1-3 times a night lately. Then he is exhausted and cranky all day. He did have 2 new teeth break through (8 teeth now!). But I'm thinking it is getting to the point where I want to let him "cry it out" a little, so we are contemplating putting the girls together and giving him his own room to sleep train in. Then maybe they could all go in together and Chris and I may have a room again? Dreams.

-can actually be a very pleasant boy. He has a very cute laugh. He loves to play with his big sis, and obviously loves Quinn. He gives the best kisses. He pretty much just makes out with you, with his little mouth wide open and all slobbery. When I lay on the ground sometimes he does his speedy little army crawl over to me and lays a whole bunch of juicy ones on me. Sweetest.

-loves balls. He likes to put balls through "hoops", which is anything: bottoms of chairs, crib slats, buckets, my criss-crossed legs. It is stinking cute. He also loves to chase balls around. We got this little toy where he puts the ball in, and hit the giraffe's head, and the ball pops out across the room. He army crawls after it with impressive speed, and brings it right back and puts it in the toy to do it again. It is hilarious. He also loves swinging doors, and poor Quinn's head has been a victim of that hobby on more than one occasion.

-is getting impressively mobile. He pulls up on things, though he often pulls up and then freaks out because he  doesn't know how to get back down smoothly. He just started crawling up on his hands and knees and it is so dang cute, because he is actually slower, but he is way more excited. He seems to be trimming up a bit with his mobility. He has reddish dirty blonde hair, and it is so course compared to Q's, like his is boy hair and hers is girl hair. He is pretty chatty too, and his favorite sound is "Gah!".

-loves. to. eat. This is not new. He likes pretty much all food. I'm trying to think of a favorite. Meat, perhaps. And cheese. You'll put food on his tray and turn around 30 seconds later and it is all gone and his mouth is full. And he is smiling.

-is such a baby. He whines and screams when things get taken away from him (which is a lot with Quinn around). But he is also sweet and good. He loves playing with Carly, and thinks she is just the coolest. He laughs and smiles a lot. When he is on his tummy and is excited, he bounces his whole body and squeals. He is such an interesting kid, because he can be so perfectly wonderful, and so terribly irritating, all in the space of 15 seconds. He is just so frustratingly loud, but so insanely adorable.

Eleven months old and these kids are still on a very vague routine. Carly was clockwork by 4 months, but she was the only one I had to worry about. Having two babies, and a big sister, means I have to be flexible, and I am coming to terms with that. I was feeling like a "bad mom" not having scheduled naps or meal times, but I finally decided I can just do what I can do. They get all their meals and they sleep when they need to. The last few weeks, though, they have often both been taking a long early afternoon nap, and it is nice for me to have something predictable.

We have also recently had a change in bedtime. Ever since they had a "bedtime", I have been propping them in Boppys and feeding them at the same time while Chris puts Carly down. It was relatively time-effective, and very smooth. As they have gotten progressively mobile, however, they won't stay in the Boppy. They won't even lay there and drink a bottle like they do during the day. They kept escaping and creating problems, so we decided to put them down one at a time. John gets insane when he is tired, so I take him in first and feed him a bottle and rock him, while Q reads books and plays with Carly and Chris. Then I give Q her bottle. It is a long process, but they go to bed, and that is what I care about. And it has been very sweet. I have always fed them in their pillows, so this time I have rocking them is so wonderful. It struck me that in these 11 months, I have not gotten to rock them like this very often, simply because there are two of them. In no time they will be toddlers who no longer require bottles and rocking, so I am loving this chance to have some one-on-one time while I put them to bed.

John and Quinn are developing a very cute and funny relationship. They move around in a little pack, Quinn leading the way and John excitedly keeping up. Quinn causes the trouble and John follows suit. They now cause quite a bit of chaos, but they are also so much fun. There is a lot of real play going on these days, and when I ask Carly to do something, she often respond "But mom, I'm playing with the babies!"

Quinn is the bossy one in the twin set. She can be a bit of a bully toward John, but I think it is because she is more mobile and determined, and he is just kind of a cry baby. I have seen her use him as a stool on more than one occasion. But they obviously love each other. They greet each other every morning with big smiles and squeals. The other day we gave John a haircut, and the poor kid was screaming in terror. His sisters both stood outside the baby gate with worried looks, Quinn staring and crying. It was very sweet, though very loud.

Oh, my goodness, these children. They never cease to be completely exhausting. But they are just so cool. Have I mentioned yet that I finally decided I actually like having twins? It only took 11 months, but I have to say, I'm a fan.

Happy 11 months, J and Q.

We're glad you joined us.

a little faith.

I have to tell you, I read an article earlier this week. It is called "Why I Raise My Children Without God." I saw it in a news story, and they were just going on about how objective and fair the woman who wrote it was. How she had so many perfect points. Well, I was excited. I am always interested in others' beliefs, and if they are making objective and meaningful arguments, count me in. Then I read the article, and I did not find it nearly as wonderful as I was led to believe. That being said, my head hasn't let go of the issue.

I thought I'd share a few thoughts, just me and my simple perspective as a mother and as a member of the Church of Jesus-Christ off Latter-Day Saints.

~~

She said bad things happen, so there can't be a God. She said God is a bad parent, because He allows bad things to happen. We believe in "free agency", meaning God gave us the right to make choices, good and bad.

“He has given us free will,” you say? Our children have free will, but we still step in and guide them.

 One time, Carly was jumping on the couch. Chris told her over and over to get down. He told her she would fall and get hurt. He physically removed her from the couch; she climbed back up and kept jumping. And, wouldn't you know it, she went flipping off the couch, and cried and cried because it hurt and scared her. You can guide kids as much as you want. You can grab them with your arms and you can look them in the eye and tell them EXACTLY what is going to happen. But the thing is, kids don't always listen. God guides us. He gave us scripture, commandments, and now He speaks to us through a modern prophet, but the thing is, kids don't always listen.

We also believe there is supposed to be "an opposition in all things" because that helps us enjoy and appreciate the good more. If I never got 45 mintues of sleep at a time (when the twins were born), I would never know just how blissful 4 straight hours could be. If people were never sick, they wouldn't fully understand what it meant to be healthy. If no one ever hurt, it would be harder to appreciate love.

It is almost as if the author expects no pain, hurt, sickness, or bad things of any kind. Wouldn't that make this life . . . . heaven? Is her plan to follow her kids around and never let them fail a test, get a broken heart, lose a job, or make a mistake? How would they learn anything? How would they grow?

I'm not going to sit here and say that makes pain easier. The author talks about Newtown. I will never say I understand God's purpose in events like that. Yes, he won't take away agency, and yes, we have to face pain, but on that day, I was asking why would God let something like that happen. But sometimes there are no answers. Sometimes faith just requires . . . faith.

God is not fair.

 Wrong. Life is not fair. Bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people and sometimes everything just sucks. But that is why this life is not the end. I was reading through the comments (if you read this article, do not read through the comments) and one person said "I believe in God because things aren't fair. Things have to be made fair in some way, so it must happen after this life." Where would justice be if this life were the end? If so many people didn't get "what they deserved". But in the same breath, where would mercy be if this life were the end? I am far from perfect, so, to tell you the truth, I don't want "what I deserve". I'm grateful for a loving Heavenly Father who won't give me what is "fair", but will forgive me and grant me mercy. And as for those who commit unspeakable crimes? They go to jail and die, or get the death penalty, or get away with it, and that's it? This life isn't fair, but in the next one, through the power of the Savior's atonement, God is fair and merciful.

He is not here. Telling our children to love a person they cannot see, smell, touch or hear does not make sense.

Wrong again. He is here. I see Him in snowflakes and sunshine and my childrens' shining perfect innocent eyes. And as a mother, I have never felt closer to God then when I welcomed three of His little spirits to this Earth, knowing He trusted me with them, knowing they had been with Him moments before they were with me. But this doesn't mean anything to someone who doesn't believe, I understand that. So we'll call that a draw. 

God Does Not Teach Children to Be Good

     A child should make moral choices for the right reasons. Telling him that he must behave because God is watching means that his morality will be externally focused rather than internally structured. It’s like telling a child to behave or Santa won’t bring presents. When we take God out of the picture, we place responsibility of doing the right thing onto the shoulders of our children. No, they won’t go to heaven or rule their own planets when they die, but they can sleep better at night. They will make their family proud. They will feel better about who they are. They will be decent people.

I agree with her, 80%. I don't want to teach my children to do the right thing because God is watching. But what I will teach my children, is why do you feel better about who you are when you do good? What is making you feel good? I will teach them that we feel better when we do good because the spirit of God (the "Holy Ghost" as we call it), testifies to our hearts that we did good. I don't say to Carly "be nice because Jesus wants us to" (ok, maybe on occassion I turn to that one :) but I try to teach her to be nice because it makes others feel good when we are nice. And when someone is mean to her, I take the opportunity to teach her, "See, it hurts our hearts when people are mean. That is why you need to always be nice." And when she feels good about doing good, I can then show her it is because Heavenly Father is happy when we are good, and His Spirit makes us feel good inside. 

God Teaches Narcissism

I have to say, this one caught be totally off-guard. Teaching a child of God's love, telling them how special they are to their Heavenly Father will make them self centered? Does she not tell her children how much she loves them? Does she not tell them they are smart and talented and wonderful and perfect? Maybe she doesn't; maybe that will make them narcissistic. I do not, for one second, believe making a child feel loved and special will ever make them a selfish person. Giving them every single thing they want, catering to their every whim, not disciplining or setting boundaries, not teaching the value of work, not teaching the importance of serving others . . . those will make for a selfish person. But how is a child to know how much God loves her friend, her neighbor, if she doesn't realize how much God loves her? And why is it so wrong that a child feel love, from her not just her family, but from a source that can be with her at her darkest, loneliest times. There have been times in my life where I felt like I had literally no one but God. What if I thought I was all alone? I want my kids to know they are cherished. I want them to know they are the most important precious things to me and Chris. I want them to be so loved, they are embarrassed by it. And I want them to know Heavenly Father loves them too. I don't think I understood God's love for me until I became a parent. Now I am in awe of it.

Then there is one of the central themes of not just Christianity, but all different faiths, which is service. Loving and helping your fellow man. Religion teaches us to look outside ourselves and love and help everyone, because we are all children of God and we are all in need. Service-oriented faith is far from narcissism. 

When we raise kids without God, we tell them the truth—we are no more special than the next creature. We are just a very, very small part of a big, big machine–whether that machine is nature or society–the influence we have is minuscule.

I don't want my children thinking they are insignificant. I want them to know their goodness can change people's lives. Even if it is helping one person one time on one day, they can make a difference. Their lives have meaning, which is why it is important to learn and improve and become a good productive educated person. You are a piece to a puzzle, yes, but no puzzle can be complete without every piece.  

I am very grateful for the knowledge I have, and for the opportunity I have to teach my children the Gospel of Jesus Christ, for them to know why they are here and where they are going and just how loved they are.

Tonight in the hustle and bustle of dinner time, Carly called out, "Mom! Dad! Wait! We forgot to say a prayer!" And so she prayed, thanking her Heavenly Father for her dinner, for her family, and praying for people who are hurting. And then she had a big smile on her face as she said "Amen" and started eating. And we all felt good. No "logic", no "reason", no "sense" can replace that.

the tenth.

Carly was born on Monday the 10th.

She was due on the 12th, and scheduled to be induced on the 17th.

But there she was, on the afternoon of the 10th at 12:53, surprising us all.

Even now, a 10th does not go by where I don't think of the day I became a mother.

In a month, Carly will be 3 and a half. I feel like these 6 months have brought so much change and so much growth. But they are also presenting challenges.

Carly has been hard lately. You hear people say "The 3's are so much worse than the terrible 2's!". Carly was a most wonderful 2-year-old, so maybe that is the case? She is testing her boundaries, feeling around for what is right and wrong. But most of all, she is the least patient person I have ever met. And now that impatience errupts into dramatic fits and tears every single time I don't comply to her demands instantly. In all fairness, the problem has worsened since our Christmas vacation, where she was constantly catered to and entertained. And she does seem to be coming off that cloud, but we still struggle.

Bedtime, which was once seamless, is a drawn-out battle. She fights every step of the way, either throwing a fit, or running away and gleefully refusing to participate. And when Chris finally gets her in bed, she fights him over how many books to read, and how many kisses and hugs to give. It is a delay tactic, even if it is a sweet one.

We are finding that patience, patience, patience is key. Explaining things to her. She is a logical, smart girl, and often when I explain why I am saying what I am saying, she will go along with it. And then sometimes you just have to put her in the yellow chair in the corner and turn on the Scattergories timer and tell her to take a chill pill. We're all learning together.

Carly loves to dress up like princesses. We dress each other, first she is the dressmaker and I'm the princess, and then we switch. But sometimes I'm the prince, and John is Gus Gus (can you just see that for Halloween!?) and Quinn is the little old lady who came to the Ball. I don't mind spending my mornings in a tiara, that's for sure. Carly also loves to play "grocery shopping", pushing her little cart around and taking stuff from our pantry (because real food is more fun than fake, of course). She got a cash register for Christmas, and this greatly adds to the excitement, as she can play FOREVER. Like I don't have to grocery shop enough in my life. She got a LeapPad for Christmas too, and I'm amazed to watch her figure it out without help. She loves to "dance to the princess music on mommy's phone". She truly loves books. She is rarely seen without a little stack of her favorites. She loves interaction and imagination. She is not good at playing on her own, a hazard of being firstborn, I suppose. She is a social people-person, and not typically shy, something I hope she holds on to, as I was a very shy kid and still have quite a bit of shyness in me. She loves. She loves her stuffed animals and her towel. She loves her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousin. She loves our little family. She loves and shows love, and that is a wonderful gift.

I'm beating a dead horse with this one, but Carly is smart. She is extremely communicative, to the point where she will talk your head off. She correctly uses words like "perhaps" and "obviously". She remembers directions to different locations. She freaks out when I turn right on a red light (how do you explain that law to a 3-year-old?! Even a smart one?!). She makes connections. Chris reads picture scriptures with her every night. We were watching Sleeping Beauty and at the beginning all those people are riding the horses and singing the Princess Aurora song. She asked "Are those the Lamanites?" And there is a character in The Testaments (her Sunday movie of choice) named Jacob: "He is Jacob just like in my picture scriptures!" And I swear, she never forgets anything. She amazes me.

Carly is truly an amazing big sister. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, she was made to be the big sister of twins. Once on Facebook someone said we knew what we were doing when we had Carly first, but I had to say it wasn't us; God knew what He was doing, because we definitely questioned it as it all went down, unsure of how successfully it would play out. Now, as the babies approach their birthday, their love for Carly and her love for them is one of the greatest things I have ever witnessed. She makes them laugh like no one else. She can entertain them like no one else. She can also lose patience with them like perhaps only me. She loves to make them laugh. She loves to play with them in the bath, particularly John, who recently just thinks she is the bee's knees. She loves to read them stories. And lately, when I am in the kitchen, I will check on them in the living room to find them all together on the floor, she is showing them how to play with a toy, or playing with them. And my heart melts, and I am grateful for the Lord's omnipotence, because He knew they would need her, and she would need them.

Carly has enjoyed preschool, and learns a lot. I do hope to get her into an actual preschool in the fall (if we can find one we can afford! what the . . . ?). I only want her to go twice a week, but she excels in new and challenging situations, and she just loves to learn new things and talk to new people. I think she will be ready for preschool in the fall. And, heaven forbid, Kindergarten the following fall? Her August birthday makes it tricky, to be old or to be young? I suppose we will cross that bridge when we get there.

But in light of that love of learning, and the fact that it is winter and we can only take so much of our little home, we signed Carly up for swimming lessons. They are pretty simple little lessons, teaching water basics. Tonight was her first one. She LOVED it. Like, really really loved it. When it was over, she didn't want to leave, and we sat and watched the older kids for a while. I finally pried her away, and she cried the whole way home, and after we got home, that she "Doesn't want to leave my swimming lessons!" She even brought up the idea that maybe Santa Claus could bring her a swimming pool for her house. It was sad but very sweet. I'm glad it was a hit. It will be a nice thing for these hardest weeks of winter.

Speaking of growing way too fast, and new and exciting adventures, this past Sunday, Carly became a Sunbeam. In our church, kids aged 3-11 go to "Primary", where they learn all the basic and simple doctrines of our Church, everything from "Jesus loves me" to scripture stories, the importance of temples, and eternal families. It is a great organization that I have the privilege of working in. Carly is 3 at the turn of the new year, so she moves up to the youngest Primary class, called "Sunbeams". The kids spend 45 minutes all together, getting a lesson and singing songs, then they move into individual classrooms by age-group and get another 45 minute lesson. It is very structured, and much different from the "nursery" where she had been going (ages 18 mo-3 years). 

She was very apprehensive at first, and I could see tears brimming in her eyes. I took her into the Primary room and showed her where she would sit. She met her teachers, who are wonderful, and then all her friends she was used to from nursery came in, and the big kids came in, and her interest was piqued. She did amazing, as did her whole class. I was split between bursting with pride and bursting with tears as I watched her, being a good and reverent and enthralled little Sunbeam. After church, she said she didn't want to leave, she loved it so much. We were literally one of the last cars out of the parking lot, and I had to tell her the doors were locked and the lights were off. I'm grateful she has a passion, not just for leaning, but for the Savior and for the Gospel.

There is a Primary song called "Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam."

It is Carly's favorite.

It says:

Jesus wants me for a sunbeam

To shine for Him each day

In every way try to please Him

At home, at school, at play

A sunbeam, a sunbeam

Jesus wants me for a sunbeam

A sunbeam, a sunbeam

I'll be a sunbeam for Him

This is most perfectly our Carly.

She is our little sunbeam, full of light and life and beauty, along with a whole lot of personality, spunk, and willpower. She is so good down to the core. I want to be just like her some day.