Time truly does fly

Yesterday

I stood in a cap and gown

walked across the stage

to gain my diploma

my right of passage

Yesterday

I married my best friend

finished college

moved into my first home

Yesterday

I was blessed to have my first child

people kindly advised me

"Enjoy it now"

"The years past swiftly"
"One day you will look back and wonder...

where did the years go"

Today

That first child donned his own cap and gown

walked across the stage

to gain his diploma

his right of passage

Today

I finally see

finally understand

that all the years in between...

the sleepless nights

endless loads of laundry

toys strewn carelessly

fingerprints on every surface...

 Have indeed passed very swiftly

I am, indeed wondering

"where have all the years gone?"

I am reminded of the words to a song

Time flies on wings of lightning.  We cannot call it back

It comes, then passes forward, along it's onward track

And if we are not mindful, the chance will fade away

For life is quick and passing, Tis as a single day.  

          

  

Baby Sick

My name is Andra.  And I'm a babyholic. 

There.  It is out.  I finally admitted it.  I bet you are all so very surprised!!!

From as long as I can remember, I have dreamed of babies. 

I am pretty sure it says that somewhere on my blog.....

You would THINK

that having had eight babies of my own, I would certainly be

CURED

Alas, no

I still adore babies.  Everything about babies. 

Sometimes, I spend time trying to think of jobs that I can do in the future

in which, I can hold babies

lots and lots of babies.

I think I may have finally figured it out,

the perfect job

where I will be able to hold lots and lots of babies.

I'll be a GRANDMA!!!!

I 'll have to start brainwashing them now

talking them into wanting BIG families

Assuring them that I will be there to help

And for now, I will practice

and practice

and practice some more

on

My sister Laila's twin boys

Did I mention that I have ALWAYS wanted twins?????

Laila certainly cannot imagine that I am like a pavlovian dog -

when she says "is there any way you could hold this baby"

or

"would you like to feed this one a bottle"

My heart beats just a little bit faster

and I can only think

it must be

a dream

come

true

I am now officially beyond amazed!

Beyond Amazement

 

Bob and I were pretty amazed - just over 18 years ago when we were introduced to this adorable squished guy.  We spent hours talking to him, looking at him, talking about him and trying to get him to interact with us.  Everything he did was cute.  Or adorable.  We were enchanted.  

 

He has spent his life amazing us with his unique set of talents

and today......

I am actually beyond amazement!

 

To understand this amazement, perhaps it is also neccessary to understand that we always thought Robby would be a "normal child".  When we put him on the bus, the first day of Kindergarten, we expected that with our help, he would sail right through school and have a bright future ahead.  

We often saw him a spark, a flicker that we tried to understand.  There was something about Robby that was very unique.  What child, at the age of four and five will bring a parent a battery and a few wires and try to show the parent what he can do with an added light bulb?

What child, at every age was content taking his toys apart, instead of playing with them?  This held true, especially if the toys had any electrical parts.  

What child begs for EVERY broken item in the household, vowing that he will

"make something out of it"?

And

Why would a child with all of that talent, with all of that creativity, would struggle so greatly in school?  

We first noticed that there was a problem in third grade.  Until that time, he was just a baby.  Of course school was hard.  But in third grade, it became very apparent that Robby would rather count the dots in the ceiling of the classroom than write out his multiplication tables.  He would rather stare blankly into space than practice his cursive.   Getting him to do his homework for the subsequent seven (yes, I did say seven) years almost took an act of congress.  Either Bob or I would sit at the table with him, coaching, encouraging, coaxing, begging, cajoling AND threatening.  And still, sometimes the work did not get done.  

We could not understand how one so bright, so intelligent simply could not function academically!  My worries turned to near panic when, in the 9th grade, having spent the previous summer working at the local junkyard, Robby announced that one day he would like to have a junkyard of his own.  Looking at his report card full of D's and F's, I began to wonder if that was, indeed what life had in store for our son.  

Until a friend mentioned to him one day that he might need to be tested for ADHD.  And with that, his life changed.  Medication was given, grades improved, attitude took a fantastic turnaround, and suddenly, the desire to create was coupled with the ability to concentrate. 

We have seen some interesting creations from him in the subsequent years, from an egg drop capsule that outlasted every other capsule in his class, to entire computers from parts and pieces,  and a mobile rocket launcher.  

We do put up with some strange habits.  Sometimes, he passes out 

while "studying" Popular Mechanics magazine.  

And the other night, when Bob went upstairs to make sure everyone was in bed.....

He found Robby in his darkened bedroom (so as to not bother his sleeping brother) hunched over on the floor with........

 A flashlight, A circuit board, AND a soldering iron

WEIRD!

When Robby was born, I never thought he would be an inventor!

 

But now he has done it.  Now he has topped them all.  

Because this old telephone handset with no cord......

ACTUALLY WORKS!!!!!

I will not attempt to go into the nitty gritty.  I was not blessed with the gifts that Robby was.   -Somehow a bluetooth headset now lives inside of the ancient handset.  If you call Robby's cell phone - he has improved the buttons on the phone so that he can take the call with the old junker.  

Ya Just Gotta Admit - 

This kid is beyond Amazing!!!!!!!

Santa..... Naughty or Nice?????

It has been a long time since I have taken time to blog. Let me prepare you. If you do not have time for a lengthy reading, you may want to walk away now. Electronically, that is. Because boy, oh boy, do I have a tale or two to tell!

First, let me regale you with my favorite Santa of all time.

Bob and I had the great idea this summer to fly with all of our children. All eight of them. By the time we had gotten up at 4am, taken a shuttle to the airport, juggled our 16 bags, children, backpacks, pillows, and anything else we could not really hold, we were tired! Did I mention that in my zeal for safety (confinement of children) we brought THREE full sized carseats? I am certain that in our matching shirts and buried under our mountains of stuff (and carseats) we certainly must have looked like a three ring circus.

Thankfully, we made it on time to board the plane and fly blissfully to Midway airport. By the time we got there, the lack of sleep, combined with the hustle and bustle had the children pretty wound up. They had a great affinity for the moving walkways, so I left Bob and Robby - perfectly content to sit - at our next gate babysitting the things that we still had to lug around with us. The remaining seven children and I (ages 2 to 15) walked up and down those walkways as far as we could go, knowing we had plenty of time before the next plane.
We wound up in a near empty hallway - one end of the terminal that had no waiting passengers, no people at all. We walked to the very end of the concourse, to ensure that we would not disturb anyone, and then I let the kids play in the hallway. I did not think the two people tending the small airport shop would mind too much. After a few minutes, I decided that free play might not be the BEST option for an airport. Instead, I started them to lining up and racing. Much better, right? The lady and the gentleman in the shop began to crack grins, and before I knew it, they were in the concourse, cheering the kids on. It was so much fun to see someone actually enjoying the massive ball of energy known as "the Stowe kids". I was shocked when the lady employee (probably 45 to 50) decided to run with the kids. THIS was definitely out of the ordinary.
At this point, the male employee joined in the fun. With his grandfatherly tone, he informed the children that whoever won the next race would earn a free candy bar. At the mention of candy, shoe strings were summarily tied and large gulps of air were inhaled. They were ready AND focused!
I do not remember exactly who won the race. There were many looks of disappointment until suddenly, both employees announced that they were going in together to buy all of the children candy bars. Needless to say, the children were incredibly happy.

 

At this point, wiggles gone, candy in hand, we were ready to head back to our departure gate. The male employee, with a twinkle in his eye, asked us to wait for a moment. He disappeared into an office and quickly returned with a picture which he proceeded to sign for us. The younger of the 4 children suddenly spouted eyeballs the size of paper plates. I whispered that we had accidentally stumbled upon Santa in hiding. This picture is now a treasured memento, reminding them that Santa is kind, also that Santa is ALWAYS watching.

After such a feel good story, I am hesitant to tell you the story of the bad Santa.  The one that needed to back for more training in parental correctness of the response variety.  I am hesitant, especially because it required me to use some "creative parenting", coersion, or guilt as my momma would have called it.  Don't think I'm horrible.  I, too, am just a mother, stumbling along, learning as I go........

Christmas with a large family is nothing, if not challenging.  Thankfully, Bob gets enough of a bonus, that if the right deals are shopped, it is generally memorable.  Somehow, we always end up with more than I had expected.  Perhaps that is what happens when you start looking at the deals on December 26th.
One thing that our children particularly love is the toy catalogs.  Really, what red blooded child does not love sitting down with The Gynormous Book of Greed.....uuum Toys, right?

This year, one of my children spotted a toy that he really wanted.  Badly.  Isn't that how they want everything?  So badly they might die without it?  Justin, my  sweet wonderful nine year old pointed to the picture and began explaining to me all the features of this gizmo.  It was a remote contol car.  With a camera.  That attaches to your compuer.  So you can drive it with your computer.  And see where it is driving while it is recording.

 

WOW!!!!  That was a toy!  

The downside was that said toy retailed for over $300.  And that was waaaaaaay over his budget!  I patiently explained that even Santa has to be careful on what he spends, because he must bring toys to all the boys and girls all over the world. Justin continued to study that picture for days on end, finally asking me the question "do you think Santa will bring it for me if I promise not to ask for ANYTHING in the next three years?".  Poor little guy was very crestfallen when I gently told him that was not how it worked.  We discussed other toys, deciding on several other options that he would be happy with.  In my mind, the problem was solved.
       I should have known that sweet, wonderful Justin is also a planner.  He likes to figure things out and make them work.  Last night, as he sat on Santa's lap, I am sure he thought he had an ace in the hole.  "I want a remote control car with a camera that you can drive with your computer" he told Santa.  After he had his 2 minutes of Santa time, he came to find me - helping to clean up from the party.  "GUESS WHAT?????  Santa told me that I can have the camera car!!!!!  He said that as long as I make sure I use it carefully, he will bring it!".  At this point, I glance up to see the Jolly red suited, white bearded man on the stage and wondered if he was sleeping during his Santa Training.  I could only think of how sad, how disapointed this little guy would be on Christmas morning when that car did not arrive.  I had to think of my own "end run", my own way to right this wrong.
      Thankfully, my mother was the master of guilt.  She trained me well.  On the way home, I told Justin that I had spoken to Santa before we left.  I informed him that Santa would, indeed, bring him the car, but that would mean the rest of the family would get no presents at all.  I told him that Santa had not known about the expense of the car, and because he promised to bring it, he would just bring Justin a present, not anyone else.  Then I gave Justin an out.  I told him that if he wanted, and if he thought it was right, he could always write Santa and tell him that he did not need the car, that the other toys would be fine.
     He sat pondering at the kitchen counter after we got home, laboriously scribbling out a note for Santa.  A note that I will keep forever.  A note of humility, a hint of sadness, and a note of giving.

Hopefully, Justin will be very happy with his laser remote control car, and his mp3 player (already purchased, I might add).  Hopefully he will not be scarred for life.  

Bob says it reminds him of The Christmas Story.  You know "you'll shoot your eye out?"

Guess I should finally watch it and see how it turns out!

I am thinking I need to "rite" a very very very nice letter from Santa

    

B.M.S.

If you dream it in a dream, it has to be true, right?  I sure hope not.  Last night, or maybe even very early this morning, I had a very sad dream.  In this dream, I was accused by an acquaintance of having B.M.S.  I awoke upset, unnerved, and trying to scrape up every ounce of denial I could find.  And in the end, when I look the nocturnal judgment square in the face, I find that it is probably true. 

This syndrome causes me to be forgetful, to decline friendly invitations, to feel a growing desire to become a hermit and even stop spending any time with my friends.  Other side effects include lack of sleep, inability to focus and concentrate, unusual amounts of irritation, sometimes leading to flashes of anger, and ‘the stare’.  This is the glazed over look that sometimes appears on my face.  I remember it so well on the face of my own mother.  She would just sit and stare straight through me sometimes.  And now, my children say the same thing – “WHAAAAAAT?”  As in What are you staring at me for??????

What, you may ask, could be causing such a wide variety of symptoms?  The sickness is one that has worsened during the month of October.  I believe it has been brought on by a new training that I needed to take.  This training has, in essence, locked me in my home office for an additional four hours per weekday as an internet based teacher attempted to come through my computer screen and headset and fill my head with all kinds of knowledge about systems, orders, customer courtesy, missing photo orders, how to fill a contact lens prescription, answering emails in a non-robotic manner, and how to walk an 80 year old man through the process of getting photos from his new digital camera into our computer system.  Whew.  It is really no wonder I am having so many side effects.

As I return to the memory of the dream, to the memory of the words said, the worst effect seems to be that I no longer have enough time for my friends.  I am crossing my fingers that as October ends, and the training ends with it, I will find the time, or the ability to overcome the dreaded B.M.S. and become friendly and alive again.  To again take time to be a good friend.  To communicate, laugh, and sometimes go to lunch with a friend.  

And most of all, to remember that my syndrome – Busy Mom Syndrome –  is one from which I can recover.  With a little help from my friends.  

Unexpected gifts

I will admit it. I love to plan. Wait – I think I have confessed this before. It may be a recurring theme. I think that in some scenarios, the words “control freak” may have been tossed around. I try not to be too offended.


You see, I am more comfortable when I can plan what is coming my way, when I can have an organized schedule to follow, when life is predictable.

I think I can now attribute this need for pattern, for stability to a lifetime spent trying to figure out how to appear normal while I struggled with many of the symptoms of ADD. I must have learned early on that if I could plan enough, and map it all out, then no one would be able to tell how difficult things really were for me. This has definitely carried over into my adult life.

Did I mention ADD tendencies? Let me try to get back to the topic at hand. Something about planning, control, schedules……..

Almost 7 years ago, I was at the end of my proverbial rope. I had a very busy job in our church, we lived in a small home with one bathroom, and had six young children who kept me very busy. The new baby was a tiny one at the time of his birth. Weighing in at only 5 lbs, 7 oz., he was determined (and still is) to make his wants and needs known. He was very loud and very frequent with his demands.

It was at this point that I informed Bob that I was finished. “Six is a great number of children” I informed him through clenched teeth. He patiently told me that it was fine if we only had six, but also reminded me of our plan. The plan we made all those years ago, when we still had stars in our eyes, sleep under our belts, and money in our wallets. In those idyllic days, we had decided that 8 was the perfect number of children for our family.

I can still see it, as if in slow motion. I think there might be a cartoon speech bubble perched over my head, as the words tumbled out of my mouth. “It would take an act of God.” Reminder to self – be careful what words fill your cartoon speech bubble.

Just about one year later, I found I was pregnant again. To say I was upset is probably an understatement. I cannot begin to count the hours I cried, the questions I asked, the recriminations I hurled skyward. I did not understand how I could possibly be a mother to one more child when my life was so full already. I spent the pregnancy in various stages of anger, denial, and quasi acceptance. In the background was always a hint of panic. This was not part of the new plan. I was not ready to fit this into a schedule. How in the world would I be able to cope?

Each year in August, before the children go back to school, it is customary for Bob to give each of the children a blessing. Fatherly words of encouragement, advice, that they can carry with them as they enter the new school year. That year, as I sat with my hands on my overly large belly, knowing our new baby was but a month from being born, I requested a blessing for myself. With that simple prayer came a feeling of peace, love, a feeling of wellbeing that carried over to the delivery.

Matthew was born on September 21st. His name means “gift of God”. And he has been. The gift I did not know I wanted. The gift I would not want to live without.

He was a gift in more ways than one. Within moments of his birth, feeling the overwhelming happiness at no longer being pregnant, and no longer being in labor, I was handed a tightly wrapped bundle of crazy black hair, large brown eyes, and the roundest cheeks. As I looked at him, I had an instant of clarity. I dragged my eyes away from this precious baby, and again the speech bubble formed over my head. “OH NO!!!” Were the words that came out of my mouth this time. Bob hurried near to see what the problem was with our new baby. The problem was the realization that came with this child #7.

“There is one more” I said – hardly believing that I could feel it with such certainty, with no doubt, after months of trying to cope with something out of my control.

Somehow, this foreknowledge made all the difference. Exactly two years later, when my doctor offered to induce me with baby #8, I was ecstatic. What a wonderful thing – for these two boys, the ones I had not planned on – to enjoy their birthdays together.

Yesterday, as we celebrated birthdays, the 5th for Matthew, and the 3rd for Evan, I was again so very grateful for the wonderful gifts God has given to me. For all of my planning, I could have never known that I would be so content, so happy. I would not have expected that as I tuck these little boys into bed at night, oftentimes, I do it with an extra kiss, an extra long hug thinking of how precious they are. How much they have added to the rich texture of my life.

I see now, perhaps as He saw then that I am not ready to be finished mothering little ones just yet. I am not yet ready to be home alone during the day. I still love the sound of laughter as they dig in the dirt, or splash their toys in the bathroom sink. These two gifts are the only ones with me now when school is in and I love it. Hopefully I will be able to deal with an empty house one day, but I am so grateful it is not yet.

For now, I will continue to plan, to schedule, to work for order and normalcy. I will also try to be better about leaving room for His plan. Knowing that He is the only one who can see from beginning to end. I can only see to the next corner, and will work to have faith that He will guide me the rest of the way. I will continue to marvel at these two precious gifts.

Never. Ever. Ever.

Never, ever, ever. Absolutely not.

 Those are the words I have used, when talking about letting a child sleep in our bed. I have laughed in the face of parents who have unwittingly set themselves up for a lifetime of sleep deprivation by allowing kicking, squirrely toddlers into their bed at night. Admittedly, I have snuggled with a newborn, and with a nursing baby – in hopes of sneaking in a few minutes of sleep here and there. Yet, in all these years of raising children, we have NEVER had a toddler in our bed.

Until now. I guess this is my punishment for being so adamant. My just due. My payment for being such a militant sleep Nazi. At this point, I am more humble. Perhaps I am even teachable. I definitely feel as if I do not know it all. Because this morning, Evan slept in our bed.


I am not sure what caused the sleep problem. From the day he was born, he has been my best sleeper. He was just the blessing we needed as we worked to remodel our entire home, from the inside out. We packed, painted, carpeted, painted some more, packed even more, made children sleep on mats on the floor. All in an effort to get ready to sell our house, while in the process of building our new one. And through all of this stress, he slept.

Upon moving to the new house, he continued to be a wonderful sleeper. I picked up a part time job that I could do from home, knowing that I could depend on him having a two to three hour nap every day without fail. He would fall into a blissful slumber, and I would go to work, answering sales calls with no worry as to what I would do if he woke early.

And then two weeks ago, I took a much need vacation. I went to education week at BYU with my sister, a friend, and a niece. For me, those two days gave me a new rejuvenation – a new determination to go forward with faith, to depend more on the Savior instead of myself, to find a time for reverent contemplation. It was wonderful.


For Evan, it was two day spent with his siblings. Two days spent with some rather loud thunderstorms. From that point on, Evan has not slept well. And that is an understatement. He wakes in the middle of the night screaming about the thunder. Even when there is none. Leigh Ann, the other mother upstairs (age 13) would try to put him back to bed, but eventually, he would drag his blanket and pillow and bunk down on her bedroom floor.


Since that time, we have tried everything we can think of. Letting him sleep on her floor (alarm wakes him up way to early), Letting them sleep together so he won’t be afraid (still gets out of bed at 5:30 with her), putting him back into the crib (who knew he could crawl out soooooo fast!), and finally, making him a little bed on our bedroom floor – from which point, I can easily comfort him if he has a hard time.


This morning, however, with the holiday, we broke THE RULE and let him get into our bed at about 6 am. The problem is, it was wonderful!!! What a snuggly little guy. So content to put his arm around me and keep on sleeping. I have never had this experience before. By the time my other children were two years old, they had a new sibling who demanded mom’s full attention. This is the first time I have had a child of almost three who has me to himself.  I am pretty sure I could get used to this!


I am hoping that this sleep disturbance will iron itself out as he realizes Mom is not leaving again.  That he will not be on my floor, or in my bed forever.  But I think I will savor the moment and snuggle with him while I still can.  Savor an experience that I have not had before.  And hope that one day, when he feels secure enough, he will return to his own bed - and that I won't be too lonely then.