We did it again.

I seem to be in the habit of creating fairly large babies. For this reason in addition to my high blood pressure during this pregnancy, my doctor took pity on me and sent me to be induced on the same day as our due date. On the afternoon of Friday, Feb 15, we dropped this kids off at my parents house and we headed to the hospital to get the show on the road. We were blessed to have the best nurses ever. We had Jenn, the nurse in charge; Rebecca, a nurse in training; and Brittany, second year nursing student. These ladies were fabulous. We bonded over my belly. At times I'd have three sets of hands on my belly feeling the contractions.We joked and laughed non stop. It was a real party...but nobody brought in a veggie tray. Time seemed to fly by, but yet at the same time it seemed to stand still. This time around Doc decided to go with the oxytocin drip for induction rather than the gel stuff that was used for both James and Kymberly. As a result it seemed to me that we were going to be there all night, I just wasn't feeling the same intensity that had come with my last two. The nurses would ask how I would rate my pain and I never did get past a 5 or 6 out of ten, because I was waiting for the intensity that I knew was to come. It never did come. Five hours and seventeen minutes after starting the induction, at precisely 7:32pm(or 19:32 {note that the numbers add to 15}), we welcomed our 9lb 6oz (also adding to 15) baby girl into this world. She came a little bit slower requiring just a little bit more pushing than her older brother and sister, and as a result she came into this world with out the bruising, her normal sized head may also have had something to do with that.

Meet our beautiful  Ella Reese

Daddy thinks she's pretty great, even if she is a girl. You see, 15 is daddy's number, and that number just kept creeping in. Maybe it's a sign...she might just have daddy wrapped around her pinky for the rest of his life.

Our little peanut

Cozy in her pea pod, AKA: her peanut shell

The Big Sisters and Brother

Daddy and his crew

The Biggest Sister, simply over the moon.

The Bigger Sister, giddy as can be.

The Big Sister, pleased as punch.

The Big Brother, simply in love with Baby Sister.

Little randoms about me

OK, so this was a little facebook dealy thing that you were to "like" your friends post and then they would give you an age to start with. It looked like a fun idea, so I liked a post and I got the age 24. I wanted to have it recorded here for me to look back on. If anyone else wants to play along on their blog, just leave me a comment saying so and I'll give you an age.


The year was 2000

I was: 24
I lived in: at my parents house in Lethbridge, AB
I was: Studying biblical Hebrew and Ancient Greek along with anything else that related to it at the University of Lethbridge. Dating and soon to be engaged to a great guy.
I drove: a little green geo metro named Lanny
I feared: the idea of not being able to finish my degree because the right class wasn't being offered the next semester.
I worked: 3 part time jobs at Bentley Leathers, Fanny's Fabrics, and marking beginner computer science papers.

Now
I am: 36
I live in: A house, we own, in Milk River, AB
I am married to: My best friend, and the man I have loved for longer than I'm willing to admit.
I drive: A dodge grand caravan
I fear: That I wont be able to teach my kids everything they need to know to make it in this world. Also that my doc wont see things as I do, and I'll have to be pregnant longer than just until this Friday, thus resulting in the delivery of another 10lb 13oz baby.(been there, done that, don't need to do it again).
I work: to keep a balance between being a somewhat efficient stay at home mom, having fun with my kids and finding time to be the woman I want to be.
I want to be: the coolest house in town. A home where others want to be, where my kids and their friends want to hang out at, and a safe place for anybody who needs a listening ear.

Meet Frank the Frog

Frank some how managed to sneek a ride home with my hubby. He's a clever frog. He also brought with him a 1kg bag of eggies.

For those of you keeping track at home, that's 2 bags and it's only Feb 4th.

I just have to say...

Please stop judging HIM for the decisions WE made.

It is true that my husband leaves the house for work about the same time that the kids do for school. It is true that he isn't ever home for dinner except on his days off. And it is true that he is rarely home before the kids go to bed. BUT that is the life that WE chose when we moved to Milk River. We were both aware of the fact that it would require an hours commute(on an open, well maintained highway not a traffic crammed deerfoot trail in Calgary or something of the like) to and from work and that his store opens at 9am and closes at 6pm, so even if it were possible for him to leave at the moment that the store closed, that still means he isn't home until 7pm. However, anyone that has ever worked in retail knows that leaving the store at what is officially closing time is impossible. First of all, somebody has to actually close the store, secondly, many customers don't seem to notice the time and don't actually leave the store right at closing time. It is also true that my husband works nearly every Saturday, this is the reality of working at a retail store, Saturdays are the busiest day, and everyone works on Saturday. However he also doesn't ever work a Sunday or on any holiday because the store is closed, a rarity in this day and age and Mondays are his regular day off, which means we get to have him home for Family Home Evenings. So yes, it's true, I am on my own a lot of the time. It is true that I put the kids to bed on my own nearly every night. It is true that he rarely graces our dinner table. BUT when he is home, he's home. He can get those girls to clean up in half the time they'll do it for me. He takes the girls out on Daddy daughter dates, simple ones like just running errands, or going Home Teaching, or out to Tim's shop to fix the car or the van, and sometimes even out for lunch. When the girls have school stuff going on, he leaves work early so that he can be there for them. When the kids are misbehaving at home, all I have to do is make a call to his work and he takes the time to talk to them and set them straight(why do they listen to their father better than me? so not fair.). We have great fun on our family outings, whether it's a one day day trip to some random town in Montana, a short and wet camping trip to Whitlash in the spring or a fabulous summer camping trip in the mountains. Oh yes, and did I mention that he stepped out of his comfort zone and figured out how to fix the washer, the dryer and the dishwasher? He also attempted to fix the garage door opener, but that kinda backfired. Best of all, he spoils me with flowers and chocolate and cheesecake for no reason at all. He makes time for him and I time, date nights and little weekend getaways. He often has some kind of surprise up his sleeve of some kind or another, or one brewing for some time down the road. He makes me feel special and loved and needed. And I'm pretty darn certain that the girls would tell you the same thing and there is no wondering how the boy feels about him.

Having said all that, I will also say this, it isn't easy. I'll admit I have days where I wish that he had the typical Mon-Fri, 9-5 job that would allow him to be home for supper and helping put the kids to bed. But those moments are few and fairly far between. The reality is this: We love living in Milk River, we love the community, we love the school and the teachers, and we love our ward. But not only that, we KNOW this is where we are supposed to be. This is where the Lord wants us to be. And knowing that makes everything else fall into place.

So please, stop telling me that my husband should be home at a certain time or work different hours. Or that I deserve more, or that I put up with too much. I'm tired of hearing it and I am tired of defending him over OUR choice.

What I have is a man who loves me and our children and works hard for us. I have a man who is a righteous Priesthood holder. I have a man with a tender heart, and isn't afraid to show it. I have a man who treats me like a queen. No, our life isn't perfect, but like the sign on my living room wall says "life doesn't have to be perfect to be wonderful". Yeah, I saw that sign in a little shop in Eureka, Montana and mentioned to him how much I loved it. So he went back later and bought for me. What can I say, I'm a lucky gal!

A story of Two fishes

When James asks me to draw a fish it looks like this:

When James asks daddy to draw a fish it looks like this:

Complete with a pirate tat. He just has to out do me every time. Remember this time. Clearly I can't compete.

Potty training....a possible success story.

When I was in Lethbridge on Wednesday I happened to find a steal of a deal at a second hand store. I had gone in to see if I could find a dresser so that I would have something to put baby's clothes in, but they didn't have anything in my price range. But what I did find was a training potty, in amazing condition for $2.50. Since the one we had had gotten broken beyond repair and James has recently been showing some promising signs of being ready to potty train, I couldn't pass on this amazing deal. Thursday we set it out and he was excited to sit on it. I let him run around all morning without a diaper on. He peed on the floor three times. He also dumped out an entire box of cereal on the living room floor, and  tried to wash his hair on his own on three separate occasions....it was quiet and eventful day. At noon I had to go up to the school, so I put a diaper on him and went and did what needed to be done. When we got home, he had a melt down and ended up falling asleep with his diaper on, so I took a nap too. The afternoon was a wash when it came to potty training, but then right before bed we had a break through. I was getting ready to put James to bed, but I really had to go to the bathroom, so I told him to just wait a minute because mom had to go potty. Well he decided that he had to go potty to, so he came into the bathroom with me and he sat on his potty, and then he peed, IN THE POTTY! I was so excited and let him know it. "YOU DID IT! Good job buddy! You peed in the potty!"  The girls heard all the ruckus in the bathroom so they came and stood outside the door and were shouting too. James started jumping up and down "I did it! I peed!". He opened the bathroom door and said "LOOK!, I peed!" the girls all cheered him on and gave him hi fives.  It all just happened. It was like the girls all knew exactly what to do, and James just loved every second of the attention. When it all calmed down, he sat down on the potty again, and tried to pee, and then he said with a frown. "Don't work mom". We all laughed, but he was seriously disappointed that it wasn't working again. I told him it was OK and we would try again in the morning.

Daddy came home from his week long business trip with surprises for all the kids, plus a little extra for the boy, some stylin' new underpants! This morning before school daddy handed out the gifts. We took off James' diaper and put on some Lightning Mcqueen underpants. He stayed dry for quite awhile, but I wanted him to feel the urge to pee so I kept offering him milk and water. And then finally it happened, he peed...in his underpants...on his bedroom floor. He came to tell me right away. so we took off his underpants, and cleaned up the mess. By the time we had that done, he said he had to pee, so this time we got him on his potty, and he peed. Once again I made a big deal about it, dad told him "good job buddy" and he ran out of the bathroom and said "Kym, come here! Look, I peed!". This became a theme for the day. EVERY time he peed in the potty he would call everyone, by name, one by one, to "Come here!" so that he could show them that he peed in the potty. We didn't have another peeing accident that day, but he did poop on the floor...gross...we'll have to work on that.

The problem we have is that he doesn't get the purpose of underpants. Three times today he would ask me to put on his new underpants, and then promptly go and sit on the potty in his underpants and pee. Hmm...I tried to explain to him that we have to take off the underpants first. I even told him not to pee on Lightning Mcqueen. But it just wasn't getting through to him. So I decided that for today, we would focus on the recognizing the need to pee, and tomorrow we'll work on the underpants part of it. All in all, I feel like today was a success. Here's hoping that it just gets better from here. Wouldn't it be great if I only had the baby in diapers...no more almost 3yr old diapers to change!!!! Heaven, that's what that would be.

A question I could not answer.

So this evening I was sitting at the computer crying and reading an article about the terrible tragedy that occurred in Connecticut today. My 10 year old asks me if I am alright. She sits down beside me and I tell her about what happened. She breaths deep. Her first question is "Was this in the United States?" I tell her that it was. Her next question is "Why do these sort of things happen so much in the United States?". All I can say is, "I just don't know." We talk a bit more about it and then she just sits there beside me as I read more of the article. I know she is thinking, I can feel it. She breaks the silence with another question "Mom, what would make a person so mad to do something so awful? I mean, to your own mom? I couldn't imagine being that mad to shoot somebody, especially you, you are the best person in the world." By now she is crying and so am I. I just shake my head and say " I don't know sweetheart, I can't imagine it either." It's her next question that has kept me thinking long after the conversation has ended and she is off in bed sleeping peacefully(I hope). "Mom, if stuff like this happens in real life, why do they make shows about it?" What a good question! I tell her so and then add that I guess some people find watching crime shows entertaining. "But, why would somebody read this and say how awful it is and then go downstairs, or to a movie and watch it in a show for entertainment? That just doesn't make sense!" She's right of course, it doesn't make sense. I tell her that I have no good answers, I wish that I did, but I just don't. At this point, James comes in the room with a terrible stench, and I need to do something about it before we all pass out. And so that is the end of our conversation, but not the end of my thinking.

I used to watch crime shows often, I loved them. I've read my fair share of crime books too. Why? Why did I find them entertaining. The suspense? The terror? What was it about them that kept bringing me back to them? It's been a number of months since the last time I watched any type of crime show, I stopped watching them sometime around the time I wrote this post. I've completely lost my appetite for them. I honestly can't think of any good reason for why I ever felt the need to watch them. Not that I think you are bad if you enjoy that sort of thing, but what is it about them that makes them appealing and entertaining? Seriously, I am asking. What do you think it is? Why do we as a society become appalled and saddened when such things happen in real life, but seem to be unfazed by it when we watch or read it for "entertainment"?