I keep forgetting this....

I used to be good at updating when anything happened... maybe not everyday but weekly.... and well- I forgot.

The kids are great. They are always great. Well-- ok not always, but a lot of the time they are great.

Princess is growing up--- and this is not ok. She was my baby- the little preemie who brought me back down.

Stinky is actually starting to smell now that he is 10.

Peas? is Peas. Enough said.  Seriously though- I worry about her. A lot. I see so much of me in her- that I want to grab her and say "its alright.  Even if things don't go the way you want--- it is alright they'll turn out in the end.

Pixie is in school full time and she is smarter than I care to admit. She figures things out so quickly watching her brain work is amazing.

LittleDude is not so little anymore.  Totally potty trained-- day and night *I swear he has only had 2 overnight accidents- no, don't know how that happened either...it just did.

I'm here. Learning. Trying.. and not always succeeding.

Feelings are hard for me, I feel so disconnected from them- at least my feelings--- other people? I feel their feelings deeply.

Little boy/big boy

Now I take pictures of LittleDude almost every night when he nurses to sleep.  One of these times it will be the last time that he snuggles to sleep and looks for my cuddles overnight. Soon one day, my milk will not be the thing that he needs to soothe his owies or mend his broken heart.

There of course are frustrations, when I want him to just go to bed.... to stop following me around, but he is my last little baby, so I am really trying to to focus on snuggling and enjoying every moment I can, because one time- it will be memories.

I love my little ones, and this is different, because I usually had delivered another baby by this time and had my time divided between a new baby and a three year old toddler.

Its hard not to have another baby, it is hard to know that this is my last snuggle bug, and I don't like it.  Being a mother has been such a huge part of my life- leaving this stage is a struggle for me.  What will it look like?  Will I still be needed? Loved? How will we navigate this?

A huge part of me hopes that this is not my last baby, I don't feel done. My heart aches for more nursing time, for more baby-wearing time, for more singing, and feeling a baby move in my womb

Positive change

Typically, I am awful about dealing with change. When we remodeled the kitchen when I was a child, I cried for weeks.  When my mom got braces, I cried.  When my mom cut her hair I cried. Schedule changes are rough for me too.

For the past few years pole had been my refuge. My escape hatch from a busy life.  When things were rough I could count on pole to spin me back into a good mood.  Then I got sick. Really sick. I had surgeries. And more surgeries. I didn't get all the way better, I would get marginally better, then get sick again.  I had another baby. I got sicker. More surgeries.

Finally, I am getting better.  I am healthier.  But when I started back on the pole- so much that I took for granted was so hard, and it was defeating. I know that I could do something-- at one point- but now I am not strong enough anymore.  For a few weeks this was killing me.  It was depressing. It was dragging me down.

But I noticed tonight- my body is changing again, it is getting stronger. My muscles are coming back.  My flexibility is coming back.  I am not where I was, but soon I will be, I have to keep working at it.

So I owe heaps of thanks to Kymba of Kymberly's Aerial Pole Art and Fitness for sticking with me and showing me the joy in pole again.  While helping me get my butt back in shape.

Oh Dear. Utah. Scary. brain dump

This past September was the 15th anniversary of coming back from Utah.  This has been the first year that I have not spent the day curled up in a fetal position waiting for the day to pass.  I actually only realized the date when I had yet another one of my nightmares about Utah.  Yes, I still have them with some regularity.

This morning, I looked at Princess and almost died. She is growing- up, she is not my little girl who chases geese and loves to swing at the park. It dawned on me, when I was her age I was already in the midst of an eating disorder.  A diagnosable eating disorder.

She is such an amazing person, smart, caring, strong, thoughtful, and kind.  I never want her to hurt like that.  I never want her to feel like she is not not enough just as she is.  She is special and unique and fantastic.  How can I protect her from this?  How can I keep her safe from that trip in a fun-house mirror. 

She really is just a kid

The kids have had to learn a lot of hard lessons about life since I was sick.

They have had to learn that sometimes even mothers get sick.  That sometimes as much as we want them too things just don't go as planned.   This summer has been great as I have not been sick much at all and have had lots of time to spend playing with kids and enjoying the summer.

A lot of times they are incredibly mature.  They are compassionate and empathetic to everyone.  Which, sometimes leads me to forget that they really are just little kids.

Then they do something that just reminds me that they really are just kids.  Most recently, this was the ice cream truck.

All of their maturity in the world goes right out the window the second they hear the ice cream truck.

The fun of childhood is pretty great.

A time to be sad--- and happy.

It was the end of year picnic for Pixie's preschool. It is also the last year this particular preschool will be open.

This preschool is heavenly.  It is a caring environment, the children were the focus, their blossoming into caring compassionate people with a love of investigation and learning.  The children were not forced or coerced into learning they were inspired to- by exploring.  Their hearts and souls were treasured.

This is the place were I met treasured friends who got me through some truly amazing people who I am honored to call my friends.  They have prayed for me, cared for me, and just been amazing.

The school had been open for more than 40 years serving many generations of children in the area with the same child centered loving environment- and this year they closed their doors.

At the end of year the picnic is a great time to say goodbye to friends and look forward to the next year.  There is no next year.  This is the last time my kids will run in the field.  Play on the climber. Go into the school.  Hug their teacher.

There will be no more children nurtured by the loving teachers. For a while it was just as fun as any end of year picnic, until it dawned on me.... this is it.  Its over.

I cried- took lots of photos. I will miss this place so very much.  It is irreplaceable.

How old do you think I am, exactly??

I was on the younger side when I started having kids.  Princess, my first, will be 10 in a few weeks- and I am 32.  22 years old, these days is really young to start a family- yet my mother at that age already had two kids, and that was normal.

Most of the time the kids do not ask silly questions like "did you have electricity when you were a kid?" generally, they assume that things were the same then as they are now.

The other day though, I was asked if we had one of those cars from the 1960s when I was little- after just discussing that I was born in the 1980s and that that car was from the 1960s.

So I asked the kids what they thought it was like when I was little.  There were some interesting answers.  They thought we had a milk man.  They thought girls always had to wear skirts.  Yet 10 minutes later they were asking something relating to calling my mom on her cell phone, email, and internet.

Silly kids.  Cell phones are their norm.  The internet is the norm.  Email is norm.  So I told them a story about going to the library and using books-- not Google and about the card catalog.  And about the printers with the tooth fed paper.