Getting old...

Remember when a bruise was a mark of bravery?? You proudly showed it off and reveled in the horrified expressions that followed.....


Now it's just a mark of stupidity. This one? Oh- the stroller fell out of the expedition when I opened the back door. Yep, just landed right smack on my leg. Does it really look that bad?! No, I don't need to "have it checked out."  

You know what I mean?

 So, what about you guys? What is your tell-tale sign that you are getting old?

catch-up??!

ok people-- do you know the feeling when you haven't done your blogging duties for the last two months and then you decide to get back on, but you have this nagging guilt that you need to catch up on everything you missed first? Well, I'm feelin' it. So this is how I deal-- a picture montage of the last two beautiful, wonderful months. And just so you know--- Tyson ROCKED my birthday this year. Guess he was making up for last year.....

Mother's Day weekend

Saturday morning, we got up and did all the fun stuff that was off-limits for Sunday. First we went to I-HOP-- my favorite breakfast place! And then on to Bear world...

It was a beautiful day, so Quinn and Tyson decided to wash my car for me... such good little workers!

And Sunday, Tyson made a huge breakfast for me-- and I stuffed myself! Then we went to church, and then came home and slept, and THEN-- spent the rest of the afternoon outside...

Of course, Quinn had to wear her swimsuit...

It was a perfect Mother's Day. I feel so blessed to have such a wonderful hubby and children! I hope you all had a wonderful day as well!

"Motherhood is...." essay

So about a month and a half ago, Nienie hosted an essay contest entitled, Motherhood is...

I didn't win, but here it is......

When I was little, probably 7 or 8, I used to get really bad growing pains in my legs. I remember one night in particular that the pain was just excruciating. I laid in bed that night and just sobbed. I drifted in and out of sleep until my mother came in and upon finding out what was wrong, went and warmed towels in our oven to wrap around my legs. And not just once, she rewarmed them twice after they had cooled. The relief was immediate. And that relief didn’t just come from the blessedly warm towels-- it came from having my mother minister to me. Even just feeling the blessing of her love on that miserable night. As I thought about this experience very early this morning after climbing back into bed after a 5:30am feeding for my little man, I started thinking, What is Motherhood? What is it that can change a child’s experience so irrevocably? The answer came-- Motherhood is an eternal sacrifice. Not just a here and now responsibility, but a divine calling that lasts through the eternities. When my first little baby came to me, it was too soon and very unexpected. She lived only a few days before she left this earth, and a week after her birth we held a small funeral for her. At the gravesite, a woman whom I knew very little at the time, came up to me and after giving me a warm hug, kissed my forehead and said, “You are a mother now. And you always will be.” The words seemed odd to me at the time, but they stuck. And the more I have thought about them, the more the truth of them fills my soul. Although my little girl had moved on, and I didn’t have the literal, physical care of her, I was forever changed. I was a mother. As my other babies have come, and I have had the joy and sometimes terror of taking care of them, this feeling has only increased. The many nights that I have spent sleepless, worrying about whether or not I fed them enough that day, or cuddled them enough, or just looked at them enough, are part of my eternal sacrifice. These children, and all that I give to them are my offering to the Lord. This thing they call Motherhood is my sacrifice. And if that is all that I have to give, it is enough.

smartypants dance

I laid Quinn down for her nap. 

Twenty-five minutes later,

I opened the door to peek,

and make sure she was asleep--

and I found this....

Just another Sunday...

A return to food...

For the first time in 5 days, Quinn asked for food and then ATE it! It may or may not have been marshmallow mateys...

On Wednesday last week, Quinn went to the hospital and got her tonsils and adenoids taken out. When she woke up, I was next to her bed, and then finally in the bed holding her. When she first opened her eyes, all I saw was "crazy eyes." Anyone who has been with a child while they are coming out of anesthesia, knows what I'm talking about. They are not themselves yet. In fact, according to the OR nurses, they don't even know they're awake yet. It is not an experience I enjoy. In fact it scares me. A LOT. I had to keep talking myself out of running from the room. Sad, I know. But once they got some more pain meds into her, she calmed down and fell asleep snuggled on my lap. It was worth it to stick it out. As she lay there sleeping in my arms, I thanked Heavenly Father that I was able to be there for her-- Just grateful that this little one was sent to my care, and that I was her momma.

The next few days were rather hellish. Seriously. She learned on the first dose of pain meds that they burned BADLY on the way down. Which began a 24 hour fight, including one trip to the ER and an extra shot of morphine-- which I should mention, she hated worse than the oral pain meds. Which is eventually what helped end the fight. We finally got her to take them-- but only on HER terms. This girl is stubborn. SO so so Stubborn. (Takes after her daddy.) First, the medicine had to be dyed perfectly pink (why do they manufacture pain meds for kids that are a sickly yellowish green?? I mean really, who thought of that one?), and we were only allowed to do a quarter teaspoon at a time. AND she had to be the one to actually shoot it in her mouth, WHILE momma held her. IT was (and still is) quite the ordeal, but at least she decided that taking it was a better option that not (thank you morphine shot!). I spent that first 48 hours holding her and trying to make her feel okay about life. Enter Emilee. Without her, I would not have made it through those days. She took care of Mac. 'nough said. That girl was a lifesaver, for me, and especially for MAC. Thank you EMMY!

But Quinn eventually turned around and started drinking more than a couple ounces in 24 hours and Tyson and I's worry was able to let up-- just a bit.

I think that this experience has forever changed how Quinn views doctors, though. She has a very deep distrust of them now. It will be interesting to see how the follow-up visit goes. I am expecting lots of tears......