Monday, February 20, 2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Poor blog
Poor neglected little blog. Life has been crazy. After getting back from Christmas I got called as the Young Women President in our ward here at church. I'm pretty sure I spent more time on that than sleeping the first few weeks.
In the last week alone, I herniated or re-injured a herniated disc and would have to take Cash into school with tears streaming down my face, so I've dealt with that, got some injections and been heavily medicated. Coinciding with that, within a 10-day period of time I had seen Ryan twice for a couple hours in the evening due to call, travel and conferences.
Last Friday night I had to call him out of a conference to come home and give Cash stitches. (It really went down like this - Cash crying. Me, not really paying attention: You get hurt? Ok, it'll get better. Because seriously, someone is hurt like 30 times a day in this house and that's about all the sympathy they get. I get on the phone, busy, busy. Get off, he starts crying again. What now??? I say. My head hurts, he says. Cash, seriously that was like 20 minutes ago. At which point I actually look and see his shirt is soaked in blood, the couch is covered in blood, the floor, his hand and arms and legs.... Oh I am such a good mom!) So Ryan takes him in and sews him up. Check.
Up late that night and then have to get up at 5am Saturday to run a Super Saturday yard sale, car wash and bake sale to help the young women raise money for camp. We had realized last minute that Ryan would be in conference all that day too and had to call our good friend to the rescue to come watch the kids all day. Ryan and the neighbor have to get up early that morning too and completely disassemble the minivan to get in a couch and all this other stuff going to the garage sale. Run that whole thing, get home exhausted late that day, just in time to try to pretty-up for a Bascom Palmer Eye Institute 50th Anniversary celebration at the Biltmore Hotel that night.
30 minutes in to the party our babysitter goes into labor. Spend some time on the phone coordinating to make sure we get someone to come watch our kids and that her's are taken care of, and we have to call our trusty friend to the rescue at the last minute once again. Get home from that and Ryan goes over to stay with the neighbor's kids and relieve the interim babysitter while they are off having their baby. (I have seriously been waiting with baited breath and checking in every day for that I'm-going-into-labor phone call and of course it happens the night we're busy and I make it way more complicated for her!)
Sunday morning we wake up and try to get the six kids under age 5 (ours and the neighbor's) fed, dressed and ready for church, then realize the van is still completely dismantled from the yard sale the day before. Ryan hauls all the seats back out to the car, loads 5 car seats back in on top of those and we take off for church - where the baby cries the entire time and Ashton throws multiple tantrums on the floor in the middle of the hallway while I try to take care of young women and Ryan has to do clerk business. We have to stay after to take care of more details that seem to keep dragging on while trying to keep track of the 6 kids, and we're dying to get out of there. Finally make the drive home and then try to get everyone fed again. No one wants the drink they've been given, this person wants a different cup, this one doesn't like this sandwich, everyone is in and out of their chairs, this one won't eat, this one is crying.... at which point Ryan declares he's getting a vasectomy and hides himself in our room to take a nap.
You get the idea. :) It's been a wild ride.
In the last week alone, I herniated or re-injured a herniated disc and would have to take Cash into school with tears streaming down my face, so I've dealt with that, got some injections and been heavily medicated. Coinciding with that, within a 10-day period of time I had seen Ryan twice for a couple hours in the evening due to call, travel and conferences.
Last Friday night I had to call him out of a conference to come home and give Cash stitches. (It really went down like this - Cash crying. Me, not really paying attention: You get hurt? Ok, it'll get better. Because seriously, someone is hurt like 30 times a day in this house and that's about all the sympathy they get. I get on the phone, busy, busy. Get off, he starts crying again. What now??? I say. My head hurts, he says. Cash, seriously that was like 20 minutes ago. At which point I actually look and see his shirt is soaked in blood, the couch is covered in blood, the floor, his hand and arms and legs.... Oh I am such a good mom!) So Ryan takes him in and sews him up. Check.
Up late that night and then have to get up at 5am Saturday to run a Super Saturday yard sale, car wash and bake sale to help the young women raise money for camp. We had realized last minute that Ryan would be in conference all that day too and had to call our good friend to the rescue to come watch the kids all day. Ryan and the neighbor have to get up early that morning too and completely disassemble the minivan to get in a couch and all this other stuff going to the garage sale. Run that whole thing, get home exhausted late that day, just in time to try to pretty-up for a Bascom Palmer Eye Institute 50th Anniversary celebration at the Biltmore Hotel that night.
30 minutes in to the party our babysitter goes into labor. Spend some time on the phone coordinating to make sure we get someone to come watch our kids and that her's are taken care of, and we have to call our trusty friend to the rescue at the last minute once again. Get home from that and Ryan goes over to stay with the neighbor's kids and relieve the interim babysitter while they are off having their baby. (I have seriously been waiting with baited breath and checking in every day for that I'm-going-into-labor phone call and of course it happens the night we're busy and I make it way more complicated for her!)
Sunday morning we wake up and try to get the six kids under age 5 (ours and the neighbor's) fed, dressed and ready for church, then realize the van is still completely dismantled from the yard sale the day before. Ryan hauls all the seats back out to the car, loads 5 car seats back in on top of those and we take off for church - where the baby cries the entire time and Ashton throws multiple tantrums on the floor in the middle of the hallway while I try to take care of young women and Ryan has to do clerk business. We have to stay after to take care of more details that seem to keep dragging on while trying to keep track of the 6 kids, and we're dying to get out of there. Finally make the drive home and then try to get everyone fed again. No one wants the drink they've been given, this person wants a different cup, this one doesn't like this sandwich, everyone is in and out of their chairs, this one won't eat, this one is crying.... at which point Ryan declares he's getting a vasectomy and hides himself in our room to take a nap.
You get the idea. :) It's been a wild ride.
Reason #567 why I have learned not to be critical of other people's parenting
We (especially Ryan) used to spend a good deal of time making fun of my sister's kids for running around in pajamas that were far too small. (Ok, seriously though people, these kids were in footed pajamas hunched over because they couldn't stand up straight.)
Anyhow, I have eaten my words. We seem to go from bad....
I think at this point in life you realize you're just happy if they have clothes on.
Anyhow, I have eaten my words. We seem to go from bad....
....to worse around here....
Christmas
Such a photogenic bunch.
I'm getting pretty good at making a mean-looking Christmas pie.
Here we are having a little fun with Siri (the virtual assistant you can talk to on my new iPhone). If you happen to get a random and inexplicable call from me I'll just apologize ahead of time. The boys are always trying to say stuff to her on my phone and apparently she doesn't speak 3 year-old. (Me either, Siri.) I'm usually across the room when I hear her mistakenly repeat that she's going to call Dr. so-and-so or whoever and I'm trying to run over to stop her.
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