Abram

There were many battles to overcome from February to November in 2006.
There was the battle to keep my food down.
There was the battle to ween my currently breastfeeding baby.
There was the battle to overcome daily migraines.
Starting at nine weeks, the battle began with my veins and the pain of pooling blood.
Ted hose are a battle all their own, both ugliness (why do they only come in wretched dark suntan?) and their vice grip strength made me constantly reconsider their necessity.



Then came the needles, the tests, the fasting(no pregnant woman should have to go without sugar and carbs that long), the classes, and the diagnosis of gestational diabetes. Although my husband really believes the diagnosis to be insurance fraud (always the attorney), there was a blessing in drawing blood from my forearm 4 times a day, my blood sugar was very low, and I was able to correct my hypoglycemia with regular sugar indulgence.
There were the constant screenings with multiple doctors, parinatologists, and many, many midwives.
There was the ultrasound with the short femurs. Apparently, short femurs are a soft marker for down syndrome, so there was more testing.



As Abram's arrival drew closer, the testing, the threats (yes, there were threats), and the daily battles with the doctors grew more intense.
I knew that I would be overdue (I'm always overdue). I knew that my baby was not large, he in fact was my smallest (were there not daily ultrasounds to prove this?).
But I complied with the redundant testing, the NST's and the ultrasounds (thank you to all of you who watched my daughters during this time, it made this bearable).
Abram was due on November 10th. I gave up the battle on November 17th and surrendered to my midwife, Melissa, at the American Fork hospital. Abram took his time for a 3rd baby, and there were complications.
Through all this, my greatest battle was the feeling of inadequacy. I and my body were not ready for another baby. I didn't know if somewhere inside of me was a mother who could love and support 3 very young children.



But Abram was beautiful. His large eyes conjured up magical resources of love from my soul.
Not everyday of the past year has been magical. It is difficult. There are days that I wonder if I am the mom for these beautiful children.
But all in all, I am grateful. I am grateful to you Abram. Your smile, your eyes, your tiny hands (and femurs), are a gift. You are making me a mother. I have to dig deep, but there is the possibility of being a great mother. You forever remind me of the dependence that I need to place on the Lord. You constantly remind me that greatness is not in me, but through me.
I love you and I would battle again and again for you.



Happy Birthday!

The photos were all taken by the fabulous photographer, Kate Benson.

Happy Birthday to My Sweet Baby Girl

Happy Birthday my sweet Lu.



No one is as loud, stubborn, silly, or as sweet and precious as you.



I am grateful for every minute of these past 3 years. And I will be grateful for every minute you continue to call me mommy. I love you forever and ever and ever.

A Lovely Saturday in November

Saturday was beautiful. Not only was the sky it's bluest, but the temp. was in the mid 60's. And not only did Brad stay home from work, he also took the girls up to our new home site in order to watch the driveway and steps be poured.



Never has concrete been so fascinating.



Never have HVAC cardboard boxes been so artistically decorated.



The view from the back of our home is of the hang gliders at point of the mountain. Brad took the girls to get a closer look.





While I was walking around our new home, the central vac. installer(who had multiple piercings and was in his early 20's), approached me and said, "I'm not going to be able to finish this job today". I said, "Oh yeah?". He said, "yeah, I just found out I have a party to go to". I considered this for a moment. I have to assume that parties are not only paramount on the agenda of a 20-some-year-old with multiple piercings, but imperative (this is not based on any research only narrow mindedness and stereotypical thinking). Understanding his plight, I let him off the hook.





We also captured our children's tiny hand prints in our new driveway cement for whoever buys our home after we tire of it to enjoy forever and ever (seriously, I hope we never ever tire of it).



After the children went down for a nap, I was able to escape (seriously) to a delightful bloggers lunch date. I am so glad I went because I almost changed my mind. These women were so much fun. I was able to spend time with old friends (Laurie W. and Leslee), and make new friends (Heather, Annemarie, Laurie from Texas, Lisa, and Melissa.
I laughed hard as I listened to stories and experiences. These ladies made me happy to be a blogger. Making new friends and being able to meet them in the flesh is wonderful. I hope to have many more blogger lunch dates just as lovely as this one. Thanks ladies!


I am grateful for the beauty of the day, for my husband's help, and for the friendships I've made through blogging.

Saturday's this gratifying are few and far between, but really need to be praised.

The Other Catagory

Remember when (it could be just me) you were young and you would look at the older generation and think, "when I get older, I will never: let myself go, wear ugly mom clothes and mom shoes, listen to mom music, have ugly mom hair, get wrinkles, not shave my legs, and talk about children's bowl movements (at the wise age of 16 I was too sophisticated to use the word poop)".
Well, those all knowing, carefree days have come and gone and now I am a mom with: unshaven legs, stretched out tummy skin, my mom's hair, unpainted toenails, ice age taste in music, some sketchy clothing, great skin (I am still in denial about my wrinkles), and a limited vocabulary littered with the word poop. I know this post is supposed to be about gratitude and I am getting to it.
These days I have found comfort in shallow indulgences. When the poop is plentiful and the whining at a fever pitch, I put on a pair of pretty shoes.



A pretty shoe can turn tired, unkempt feet into a vision of grace and femininity.



A pretty shoe can turn an overworked housewife into a girl with people to see and places to go (even if the only thing on the agenda is the grocery store).



Pretty (and colorful) shoes put a skip in my step and a swing in my hip.



Pretty boots can hide a multitude of sins. Boots cover my unpolished toes. My hair covered legs can go undetected by a tall pair of boots. The ugly side of maternity is hidden by a good pair of sturdy boots (and the pair of strong, suntan colored ted hose that I had to wear summer of 2006, and no you cannot see a picture. Those days will have to be the subject of fables and folklore).



No matter how many wrinkles I accrue,




or how much poop I clean up,



I will always be grateful for the quick-fix of a pretty shoe.

The Pretty

I like the pretty. I am grateful for the pretty. My husband would argue that I like too much pretty and may be an over zealous consumer of the pretty.
But this is not the pretty I speak of today. I am thankful for the simple, less contrived pretty.



The pretty that gently persuades.



The pretty that is free of an agenda.



The pretty that easily goes unnoticed.



I depend on the pretty to remind me.



When things (or I) don't feel pretty, I embrace pretty, and pretty becomes part of me.



Call me silly or shallow, but I love the pretty.

If only I could fit shoes into this 'pretty' category.

In the Spirit of Thanksgiving

For the whole month of November, I've decided to only post gratitude posts. By gratitude I really mean, I'm using The Secret, and by The Secret I really mean, the Bible and my 3rd set of scriptures, As A Man Thinketh, by James Allen (I knew the secret a long time ago and have not yet fully internalized it enough in order to manifest millions of dollars or mild mannered children).
Really, I could use more than a whole month of focusing on my blessings. Good things seem to happen when I remember how the Lord has blessed me. One of my favorite scriptures is in Moroni 10:3. It is part of the promise given to those who read the Book of Mormon. I love vs. 3 because Moroni lays the foundation for receiving guidance from the Lord. The part I think is important is "that ye would remember how merciful the Lord hath been unto the children of men, from the creation of Adam even down until the time that ye shall receive these things, and ponder it in your hearts". When I remember and ponder my blessings, my heart is softened, I feel humble, teachable, malleable. This is when I am taught by the spirit.
The direction of my life was changed by one of these moments. I am so not a 'Saturday's warrior' person. I don't like to use the word 'fate' or 'destiny', I prefer choice, it creates more responsibility. I have had one perfect moment in my life when fate intervened and a choice had to be made.
In 1994, when I was 21, I was walking down the stairs of my parents home and was feeling overwhelmed with gratitude. I had discovered the blessings of the Atonement. I had a job I loved. I had many loving friends and a wonderful young adult ward. As I considered these blessings, a waking dream (or vision I suppose) entered my mind. I was a few years down the road, I was a mother, and I was a returned missionary. I knew what this meant and the tears began to flow. I had not wanted to serve a mission but there was no way to deny what I had seen and felt. A mission changed my life and I will be forever grateful.
I need to be reminded. I need more visions (because that was the only one I've ever had). I need the blessings of gratitude, because regardless of how my blog makes it look, life's not easy. I get confused. Motherhood doesn't always come naturally, and my husband could always use a better wife. And I know I need to let everyone know (including the universe), that I have been blessed.
So get ready. Some of my blessings may be silly or shallow, but I am counting ALL of them, well some I will keep to myself.

So here are my top 4 on November 5, 2007:

Our Lovely Halloween

The morning of October 31st brought warm autumn sun for my happy, playful children.





I did my best to dress my daughters in Halloween appropriate attire.



Our only pumpkins were plastic but our dahlias are real, (I love my dahlias).







The evening was golden. Our treats were many. The chainsaw was terrifying, and two tummies are sore.