14 years ... and counting!

Wow, it's "the most wonderful time of the year" in our household! Sadie born on the 11th, anniversary on the 23rd, Christmas, New Years ... very busy, blessed time. That's for sure! Today marks our 14th year of marriage. It's been a good 14 years. I take that back. A GREAT 14 years. I'm pretty lucky to be Matt's wife. And I will say, he's pretty lucky to have me, too! :) The day was spent just hanging around. I'm sewing PJs for the kids Christmas presents, so I worked a little on those. Later on, my good friend Melissa brought food for us because of our newborn. Holy cow! Good food! Funny thing is, I make lasagna like on a weekly basis. When the older boys started eating it, all I hear from them is, "This is the best lasagna EVER!" I was like, "Hey! What about my lasagna!" I didn't say anything though because I had to admit, it was sooo good! We've been watching a bunch of Gordon Ramsay shows and my oldest says, "This is like fancy Italian restaurant stuff!" I've got to get her recipe. My own lasagna needs a tune up! So for our anniversary celebration, we went out to eat. Ruby Tuesdays. But since it was our SPECIAL night, I went ahead and ordered the shrimp. I don't think I've EVAH ordered shrimp at a restaurant before. Always super expensive. 1st world problem, I know. Sadie slept in her carseat for a little, but not long. We took her out after about 10 mins. The guy who sat us asked if she was our 1st. We both said "no" and we both just looked at each other and remained silent. Just didn't feel like dealing with reactions that we typically get when we tell people how many kids we have. It's a blessing, a great blessing, to me to have 8 beautiful, perfect kids. Not everyone sees it that way. They're problem, I know, but it was apparent by both of our identical reactions, neither of us wanted anything to put a kink into our evening. The food was great, though I don't think Gordon Ramsay would have been happy. The cucumber in my salad was wilted and MAYBE the mashed potatoes were from a box. Sad thing is, they tasted fine to me, but I honestly couldn't tell! Ramsay could probably just look at the mashed potatoes and know. Towards the end of our dinner a super nice couple sitting at the bar, right acrossed from us, congratulated us on our new baby. "Boy or girl?" "Girl" (as she's dressed in pink with 2 pink blankets, but hey, it was sorta dark.) "Is this your 1st?" the husband asked. He looked to be about my own dad's age. We answered just like we did the host who sat us. "No. She's not." Then the guy goes, "Well, just don't tell me she's number 7!" Matt and I just busted out laughing and I said, "Actually, she's number 8!" The guy and his wife start laughing, he starts saying, "Open mouth, insert foot" over and over. The thing is, they were a super nice couple. From upstate NY. It was cool hearing him talk. He had the same exact accent as my dad, even used the same frases, like, "Good G_d Almighty." (Though my dad says good GOSH Almighty.) He gave us his coupon, saying, "You've got 8 kids, you can use this coupon!" It was one of those coupons you get in the mail. So it had his address on it. We're going to send him a family picture, just for the heck of it. I think he'll get a big kick out of seeing the kids. So many thoughts right now. So many feelings of gratitude in my heart. Heavenly Father has blessed me with so much. I know the kids don't realize right now how blessed THEY are to have parents who love each other, who love them, but one day they will. We talked a little about how we felt regarding more kids. Right now, it's too soon for me to say. I'm enjoying not being pregnant. I'm also enjoying Sadie so much. I'm enjoying ALL my kids so much. At this moment in time, I can only say, regarding more kids or not, "we'll see." By the time Sadie's Colby's age, Colby will be 26. Time just FLIES so fast. I've only got Colby for 5 more years and then he'll take off, with his brother practically hanging on to his feathers to leave. Then they'll all take off, one right after the other, just like that. Do I fill these last 5 years with another pregnancy? Or is it time to totally turn my attention to my growing kids? Not that another pregnancy is bad. I've been super lucky and blessed with easy pregnancies, but just something to think about. Which is why I say, "we'll see." Heavenly Father will let me know. This is another reason I just recently marked my photography prices higher. I realize that I TOTALLY run the risk of never having another photo shoot again, but that's fine. Not being so busy with photography will let me write more about life with the kids, something that's SO IMORTANT for me to do which I've totally neglected over the past 2-3 years. And it'll free up my time so I can spend more time with the kids. I'm looking forward to it!!

Sweet Sadie B.

I can't believe it, but Sadie is 1 week old EXACTLY. It's 5:58. She was born last Wed at 5:54. This time 1 week ago, I was on TOP OF THE WORLD, announcing my joy to everyone in the room how happy I was to NOT BE PREGNANT! I do that all the time. Go from screaming hollaring freaking out to pure euphoria with that last push and having my precious baby placed on my chest. They ALL look the same and have that weird poop smell when they come out. But I see past it all and feel nothing but a fierce love for my babies. Along with that fierce relief of not being pregnant.

And I can't let another day go by before I write her birth story. I remember taking the pregnancy test. I had never gone so long between babies. Riley was 19 mos old when my pregnancy test came back positive. I had wanted to get pregnant sooner, figured I WOULD be pregnant sooner, but I guess my biological clock ticks faster and stronger than I want it to. Getting less fertile was my thinking, even wondering if I was never going to get pregnant again. I had come to terms with it, sorta. I always wanted 7, but felt we'd have another to the point that I DESIRED another. Badly. I took the test April 1st and when it came back positive, I actually threw it away. I normally keep them because I have weird issues like that. But I threw it away because I didn't FEEL pregnant physically and the last time I felt that way, it ended in a miscarriage.

The first 20 weeks, I just didn't feel right about the pregnancy. I felt that SOMETHING was wrong.

And at my 20 week ultrasound, those feelings were sorta confirmed. My baby showed cysts in her brain. I was told it was most likely normal but could also mean down syndrome or trisomy. I. Was. Devastated.

I wanted to curl up and disappear. I was also told that my placenta needed to be at least 4cm from my cervix but was measuring 1. The images flooding my mind were going in for a c-section and leaving the hospital without my baby. I was spinning. Literally.

I immediately felt such an empathy for moms who go through the unimaginable. How incredibly strong you are to go through it and survive it. I've always felt heartbroken for moms who go through such things and for a moment, I tasted it. It was terrible. Emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual drowning is how I felt.

I didn't want to tell anyone. Didn't want to deal with people's reactions and what not. But then the words of my dear friend Missy came to mind, "If I'm going through something hard, I'll tell people because I'll want their prayers." So I decided to follow her advice and I asked for prayers for my sweet baby.

Heavenly Father hears prayers and He DOES answer them. We had our follow up ultrasound and everything looked perfect, except for the 2 cysts, still hanging out in her brain. But I was assured it was normal. AND my placenta, which was at 1 cm, had moved to 6cm, so everyon was happy.

Fast forward to week 35 and my baby was breech. I could feel her little head up my sternum. But then my 38 weeks, she was very much head down. This baby was just keeping me on my toes.

Owen was another worry I had. He's such a Daddy's boy. Has no use for me. About 2 months before my due date, Owen became almost obsessed with my belly, with me, and with the baby inside. To the point that he didn't want to go to preschool anymore. Preschool is his oxygen, his life line. He LOVES it. But all of a sudden, he just wanted to be with me, near my belly, kissing and hugging my belly often during the day. I have to admit, I started getting worried more for Owen than for the baby! I always worry about my pregnancies, trying to not get attached until their safe arrival, but because of Owen, I really found myself pleading with Heavenly Father, "do not let anything happen to this baby because of Owen!!"

I was due Dec 10. At 2:30AM on the 11th, I woke up, used the bathroom, went back to bed, laid down, put my head head on my pillow, and wham, my water broke. And my anxiety started to pick up. I can't have pain meds as my body reacts terribly. And my labors are NOT quick. They last forever. That said, my anxiety was HORRIBLE with Riley. Matt said he had never seen me behave the way I behaved while I was in laor with Riley. It's because I forgot how much I hated labor and was in the process of remembering it and remembering everything I was going to have to go through! Once again, I asked some friends for prayers, to calm my anxiety and to bless me with a smooth labor and delivery.

Around 10 that morning, after the kids had gone to school (oh, and by the way, the kids were more excited at the prospect of sleeping over their friends houses than having new baby sister. Turkeys.) we went to the midwives. Mary checked me. I was at a 6. And I told her I did not want to go to the hospital until I had to. And sweet Mary said, "You can do whatever you want right now. Because your water broke at 2:30, you do need to go to the hospital by 2:30 this afternoon though." And because we're slackers, we decided, "Lets go to Target and buy her carseat. Cuz we need to get one for her."

My contractions were about 10 mins apart. At times I'd have a few that were 5 mins apart, but all very do able. I'd have to either stop or walk super slow at Target, some contractions brought tears to my eyes, but I could manage them. We got a bite to eat and then I wanted to go home and rest. I was able to rest. My contractions even stopped for a bit. Around 2, we made our way back to the hospital. And I felt calm.

When I got there, Mary checked me. I was about at an 8. I wondered if I wanted to maybe try for the epidural cuz WHO KNOWS! Maybe it'd work this time? :) But I felt CALM, and Matt reminded me that I want epidurals all the time but when the baby's born, I'm so glad I didn't get one because they ARE so hard on me. We walked around some more, I labored a bit in the room, heard a lady I met just the other day at the midwives, hollaring as she delivered. Matt and I discussed names.

We hadn't picked a name yet. I told him, "search names that start with 'M', 'R', 'S', and 'T'." Between contractions we made a short list of names from that search. We had previously settled on 2 possible middle names: Cruz and Brazil. Cruz is a common surname on my Filipino side and Brazil is the country we both served our missions in. Funny thing, we didn't tell ANYONE about Brazil, just because I was sure it'd elicit funny looks and I didn't want to get irritated. But then one evening I was given a surprise baby shower and during the shower, naming the baby came up. Missy all of a sudden goes, "What about Brazil because you both served there." That girl,she and I have twin minds. But hearing her say it, it just sounded even better than Cruz. BUT I wasn't sold yet.

Around 5:40 I was at a 9 and Mary suggested we go ahead with the pitocin. I got to a 9.5 and Mary said, "OK, lets just have a practice push on your next contraction." I did a practice push and things started happening. Next contraction after, her head was out, and, although I didn't feel any more contractions, I had to push again to get the rest of her body out. Normally I'm slammed with contractions and I can't help BUT to push. This time, I pushed mnore because Mary told me to push. It wasn't that bad!!!!! I couldn't believe it!

This time around, contractions didn't kick my butt. This time around, ZERO anxiety. I wasn't even SORE at all! It was surreal. And I mentally thanked my friends for their prayers.

They laid my baby on my chest and I was totally engulfed in pure joy and elation. The placenta came out and Mary looked up at me and said, "You are a very lucky mom and your baby is a very VERY lucky baby." I got confused. She then showed us the placenta. "You had a velamentous insertion." She explained that because the blood vessels were exposed, ANYTHING could have caused a rupture, resulting in my baby bleeding to death. She couldn't believe it. She even made Matt take a picture of it.

Mary told us, "you have a little miracle baby here."

That's why we went with the name Brazil. Yes, we both served missions there, but for me, Brazil was my personal miracle. That's a whole other story, but Brazil changed me. I am who I am today because of Brazil.

I'm super OCD with my kids names. The girls have to have 3 syllable first names, 1 syllable middle name, boys it has to be 2 and 2. All names have to have a double letter and a family name. Sadie Brazil broke all the rules. And it's perfect for her because I feel, actually, I KNOW she beat so many odds to get to our family safely. She's a red head! Aren't all red heads fiesty??

Sadie's birth is such a testimony builder to me of prayer. Holy cow. And asking for others to pray with and for you. I know that not all prayers are answered as we want them, but the fact that she's here safe and sound, that I had no anxiety during labor and that labor wasn't bad at all, was such a tender mercy for me. My goodness, Heavenly Father REALLY is REAL!

I left the hospital the very next day, 8PM to be exact. They wanted me to stay at least 24 hours. On our way home, we had to stop at Target because of course that evening we were informed that my 4th grader needed an outfit for her concert that we didn't have. So she and I ran out to quickly get her things. The cashier, as we were checking out, asked me when I was due. I sorta wanted to say in 2 months because maybe she'd say I looked great for being 7 mos pregnant, but I couldn't lie infront of my daughter, so I told her, "well, I had her last night."

Which is a perfect end to the post because I've been asked that question for every child since my 3rd.

Latest ultrasound and such!

So we had our "stage 2" ultrasound. Because of the 2 cysts, they scheduled a 2nd ultrasound by a more "experienced" technician. He's actually one of the doctors at the clinic who went through extra schooling for ultrasounds. He looked at everything from general appearance (how the knuckles lined up, where the chin was in proportion to the rest of the face, size of bones, etc.) to how the organs were functioning, blood flow, artery placement, etc. He was looking for "soft signs" or something like that. After he was done, he smiled, looked at me, and said, "You can continue your monthly check ups with your regular midwives. Your baby looks great." As happy as he was, I was still reeling from the previous bad news and felt even a bit "apprehensive" still. I was of course happy, but not jumping for joy. More like, "are you SUUURE??" But now that it's been a few weeks, I can report that I've been able to relax some. We got the test results from my blood work in the mail recently, and about made me cry when it showed that my chances of having a trisomy baby were 1 in 10,000. STILL that chance, I understand that, but the ultrasound along with the test results are at least giving me SOME peace of mind. I still am anxious to get this baby here. Breath better when she's in my arms.

But not really cuz when do you really stop worrying? :)

Anyways, life is going well. Kids started school. I have a 7th, 6th, 4th, 2nd, K, and preschool. My middle schoolers love it. I asked my 6th grader what he liked BEST about middle school. He goes, "You don't have to walk in a line anymore." Wasn't expecting that!

But very glad he's happy as a new middle schooler.

And of course the busy sports season has started. 5 playing soccer, 1 playing football. People are always asking how we do sports. I'm not quite sure how to properly answer that cuz you just make it happen. You deal with 6 kids playing sports as you would 1, 2, or 10. Put on your big girl panties and go!! My 7th grader is playing football for the first time. I'm a bit nervous about that. I tried to brainwash him into soccer since his preschool soccer team, but it didn't work. We'll see how the season goes. He can try out for the JV team next year, so I thought why not let him get one season under his belt before tryouts.

My 6th grader is die hard MLS! So of course I'm loving that. He's one of 2 from his team last year that was pulled up to play with the "red" team. This red team is a pretty tight group. So he needs to work his way in w/o getting discouraged, including just coming out of a broken leg situation. He's cut out of that fabric though, he can do it. I'm looking forward to his season.

I'm coaching my 2nd graders team this year. I love that I don't have to coach the k and 1st graders. It's just one step up, but I feel like I can start to get some real soccer playing going on in their little brains. It's fun. I sure love it!! And hoping that all the sports and busy weeks and weekends hurries up this pregnancy! :)

Matt's in his last semester of CLASS work. I love it! It's like I see a light at the end of the tunnel!!! I'm almost 40. It'll be so nice to have an INCOME soon. It's been quite the road for us. I married Matt after I had already graduated, but he was still getting his BS. Then he got his Masters, then PhD, worked for a couple of years, and decided to do the PA program. 2 years more. Anyways, it's all good. It's better financial security for the family and he's been SOOOO HAPPY this past year in school! It's great! I know he'll be a great PA. When he's get there!!

Today I took my little preschooler in for his "well check" which included 4 shots. In the waiting room he suddenly got this look of fear and said to me, "I don't want the doctor to do this" and he proceeded to poke his pointer finger way deep into his belly. I had the feeling that he was referring to getting shots, but wasn't remembering correctly. But I ran with it. He goes, "Mom, pinky promise that the doctor won't do this" (push finger deep into belly.) So I said, "I PINKY promise!"

Because he WASN'T going to do that, right?

After he got his 4 shots, through his tears, he goes, "Mom, you PINKY promised!!!" So I played dumb and reminded him that I pinky promised not getting a finger pushed through his belly. O just looked at me as if to say, "You KNEW what I meant!" So I said, "you meant to say, 'no shots!'" The doctor told me he wouldn't get any more immunizations until he was 11, so I went ahead and said, "so I PINKY PROMISE that no shots!" I figure by the time he's 11 he'll either forget the pinky promise or be better able to deal with shots.

Lately Matt and I have been sorta butting heads regarding something. It's sports. I won't write about it now, but I will in my next post. I'd love to hear people's reactions/opinions, but to be perfectly honest, I'm more curious than looking for "advice." Because I know where I stand and nothing's going to change it. But for now, I'm saying good night! And I'll let everyone know when I post the "sports" blog.

Good night!

July 26 2013 ~ The ultrasound

So I'm almost 21 weeks pregnant now. 20.5 to be exact. We got to find out today what we're having. The ultrasoundologist (is that even a word?) never did get a good look. Either the umbilical cord was totlly covering her/him or her/his legs were completely closed. She just assumed because she couldn't see ANYTHING that it's a girl. So on the photo, it's "girl?" It's all good though. I just want healthy. Not sure if that's what we're going to get though. She looks perfect, sure was moving all over the place, even tapping her little foot ~ we all started laughing. At the end of the ultrasound, she goes, "Everything looks great. My only concern is there are 2 cysts in her brain." She had fancy words for it, but that's the layman's terms. She said that she hated to tell us because it's quite common, but that we'd need to have some follow up ultrasounds and visits. I've read so many times that when people get bad news, the room sorta spins and then feels like it slowly just crushes down on you. I was laying in the bed and when she said that, I literally felt like the ceiling very slowly came down around me and slowly squeezed me. She said the midwife would talk to me more about it. I didn't really have any reaction at that moment. We were taken to another room for my actual visit w/the midwife and that's when I just couldn't handle it anymore. The midwife had spoken to the doctor before she came to me and this is what she said: Because everything else looked fine, they weren't really worried at all. She said that the cysts were the ONLY things of concern, so because of that, they weren't too alarmed. She said the cysts could be there even after the baby is born but then they just simply go away. She said they were quite common. It still didn't help. Partly because from the very beginning, I felt more nervous about this pregnancy. 7 healthy kids, it's like I'm playing Russian roulet or something. Even going into the ultrasound, I was uneasy. I'm hoping and praying that my unease was just because we'd be getting THIS news and nothing else. The range of problems that we could encounter are from absolutely nothing at all to down syndrome to that trychanomisis 18 syndrom etc (I don't know the exact word and number, but I don't want to google it either because I just don't want to.) Needless to say, I've been crying all day. I took a long nap, that seemed to help, but seriously, my eyes are so dry and swollen that they actually kinda funny. After we left the clinic Matt suggested we take a walk. Down the road from the clinic is a cancer care center. As we passed it, I saw someone in a wheel chair, obviously super sick, being pushed by someone else. I immediately thought, "things for me could be so much worse" but then the more I thought about it, the more my wandered to the thousands and thousands of people affected by ill health, death, loss, and similar trials. How they cope, I do not know, but my heart just goes out to them and aches for them. It's been a somber day for me. Wanting to stay away from people, just needing to be at home with Matt and the kids. Matt feels that all will be fine. He's not too worried. I am. I'm just so in love with this little baby. Seeing her move around so much, keeping her little hands up around her face. Her profile pic it so cute. Perfect little nose and chin. Her little bumbum. She's perfect. I just pray and pray and pray that all will be well and healthy for her. I have another ultasound in a couple of weeks. They took my blood to do that DNA test. The midwife said that with those results and the "level 2 ultrasound", we could know better what we're dealing with. She and the doctor were pretty optimistic, I'm just scared. And doing a lot of praying. Haven't told the kids. No need to. But we'll be praying.

Big 'D's game, my heart, and heavenly intervention

I said I'd talk about child #2's game. Here it goes!

After the 5k, we all went, as a family, to watch #4's game. That consisted of Matt and me watching whilst the remainding 6 played in an empty soccer field near by. Quite the support group. Anyways!

As soon as her game was over, however, Matt had to book it with #2 for his game, which was about 45 mins away. He also took another child but I can't remember which. Like for reals, I totally can't remember. Maybe it was #4 and #6? Anyways, not important.

They leave and I take the rest of the crew to their perspective games. End of the day we go home and see that Matt had just gotten home from his soccer festivities. I pulled up and, because my group had great games, cheerfully asked, "Well, how'd his game go??"

Matt looked at me, face full of disappointment and in a very monotone voice said, "the team lost, and your son got a red card."

I play soccer. Played in high school and all through college (intramural, not for BYU.) A yellow card in my opinion is fine. It simply means you're super aggressive, maybe a bit more than you needed to be. A red card means you suck. You suck because the way you played told the entire crowd that you don't have the skills to play sillfully, so instead you play dangersously. You made an ugly foul. You basically suck. When I see players get red cards, I get sorta embarrassed for them.

And my son got one.

"What happened?" I asked.

"You'll need to talk to him."

I was furious.

"No, really, I need to know what happened!"

"He shoved a kid and then yelled at the ref."

I have this alter ego. It's called Sally. Don't mess with Sally because Sally is the devil and will kick the butt of anyone who needs their butt kicked. Don't mess with Sally because Sally's a 'B' and she don't care. And child #2 was fixen to chat with Sally.

I stormed into the house. So many thoughts crossed my mind. I was staring failure in the face. To have a child act like that on a soccer field infront of his amazing coaches, his wonderful team and his dedicated father at the ripe old age of 10 meant I had unknowingly created a monster and not much I really could do about it. I also wondered, had we actually had too many kids? Did his potential for such ugly behavior go undetected because I was too busy caring for younger children? I also wondered, "what EFFECTIVE punishment could I give him?" Yelling at him? No, because that's what he did to the ref. Spanking him? No, because he had been physical with another player and by being physical with him, I'd only encourage the behavior. I also tried gauging my anger. I was SOOO ANGRY, but I wanted to be sure I was angry for the right reason. Was I this angry because of pride? MY failure, MY embarrassment at being the mother of such a poorly behaved child. I wanted to be sure I was angry for the right reason. (Is that even such a thing? Anger for the right reason?)

So may thoughts in just the 3 seconds it took me to clear the front yard and enter the house. As I entered the house I said a feeble prayer. "Heavenly Father, help me do the right thing."

Expecting to find him sulking in his room, I was SHOCKED BEYOND BELIEF to see him laying on the couch, watching TV. My anger was beyond clear thinking.

"How'd the game go?" I asked cooly.

Looking up, he said, "the team lost."

"How'd you do?" I asked, almost without breathing.

And with this attitudy smirk, he said, "I got a red card.

He was proud of that? I was mentally REELING!!!

How'd you get a red card?

I pushed a kid and then yelled at the ref.

Why'd you push the kid?

He was pushing me! (Still eyeing me with that same smirk.)

And why did you yell at the ref?

Cuz he was a jerk!

And then my blood started to jump from hot, straight into steam.

And you decided to be a jerk right back?

My anger was at a level it hasn't been to in such a long time, that I, at that moment, used every ounce of energy to restrain myself. The words I wanted to use at a volume I needed them to be used at was not good.

And then my child looked at me and said, "Really we tied and I scored 2 goals!"

Have you ever seen a sail boat out in the ocean with no wind. Just sitting there. All quiet and unresponsive. Lost. Useless. Maybe even it's empty? That was me. I couldn't properly process what he just said. Matt had followed me into the house and starts laughing. And then can't stop talking.

"He played the best game of his life! Passing, hustling, stealing the ball, and his goals were amazing! He could've had 3, but his first shot just barely hit the cross bar and deflected! They tied 3-3 against the hardest team of the league!"

I don't think I'll ever forget that Saturday. And I don't think I'll ever forget the small answer I had to my prayer as I marched into the house. Heavenly Father told me, because He know how mad I was, "just talk to him." I'm so grateful I didn't just march in and blow up. I'm so grateful that I had the brains to listen to that prompting.

How people raise children without prayer, it blows my mind. I am so grateful for prayer, guidance and ANSWERS! And I'm so grateful for my great kids. He came home last night, on a high! "Mom! I won the juggling contest!" as he showed me his Sweet Frog gift card. (Coach has a juggling contest with the team. He who juggles the most gets a Sweet Frog gift card.) We took the family out for a Sweet Frog celebration that night.

I really do have great kids. Obviously with a sick sense of humor. That maybe got passed down by their dad? I know I'm not out of the forest when it comes to raising my kids. Failure is bound to happen. I just hope and pray that as as I go about my journey of being a mother, that I do continue to hope and pray for Heavenly Father's help and my listening to it!

5K Dash and Splash ... and then some

Last Saturday was the absolute best day the family has had in a long time. The day went perfectly! Gotta tell you about it!

We're playing a lot of soccer this season. We'll more like, we've got a ton of juggling we're doing with 2 on travel, 3 on rec, me head coaching one team and assistant coaching 2 teams. And Matt's gone everyday from 7AM to 9/10PM. And I don't like to be busy!! When the season started, I marked our calendar, figured in all of our soccer games, my photo shoots, my races, and church activites. Not a moment. Too. Breathe.

And then the kids' school announced a 5k race that would include splashing colors all over the shirts at different stations. On a day that we had 4 games and I had a photo shoot. Matt was dead set against the race. I thought it'd be fun. The 3 older kids were dead set FOR the race. Matt argued, "lets not add to our already busy day!" I argued, "The kids want to do it and it'll be a fun family activity." Matt argued back, "We're too busy!"

So I registered our family. The kids wanted to do it. And although I knew it'd mean a ridiculously busy day, I knew we'd have a good time.

The night before the race I started second guessing myself. I figured Matt could run with the 3 older kids and I'd run with the 4 younger ones. We have a large jogger that works as a trailer for a bike, so it's nice and easy to push around. I figured that I'd have the 3 little ones in the stroller and would jog/walk with #4. When she pooped out, we'd just turn around and wait at the finish line for the rest of the crew. Her soccer game was 2 hours after the race was supposed to start, so I didn't want to exhaust her. The thing was, because of the different locations for our rec games,and with Matt being gone for #2's travel game, I'd be driving 3 times across Augusta County. Grrrr, not looking forward to it. And then when all the games were done, I'd have to book it to the photo shoot!! Lots to do!!

Saturday came and since we had paid for the race and the kids were excited for it, we got ready to go, bright and early. We made it to the early bird parking cuz I didn't want to walk far after wards. We met up with our "family friends" Missy and Laura and her daughter. They were all cute and fancy, I was all fat. Pushing around the 3 kids and keeping the others close by. A bit later, we were summoned to get to the starting line. They let us off in heats. Child #1 had plans to be the first runner over the finish line, so he went with the 1st heat. Child #2 just wanted to be in the same heat as his brother. The horn went off and off went my first babies.

Matt and child #3 lined up for the 2nd heat. She's a strong runner, I'd slow her down, so that why I wanted to let her run with her daddy. And they took off at the horn. I'm sure with Missy and Laura, too.

I lined up with the 3rd heat. Daughter to my side, 3 in my stroller. Before the horn buzzed, children #5 and #6 yelled, "we want out of the stroller!" I obliged, figuring that #6 would last a quarter mile and #5 a half mile. I figured that #4 would probably last 1 mile and then we'd just cut back to the starting line. The horn blasted and we took off jogging. Child #7 also wanted out and began to scream and cry.

My 7 year old I guess ended up running 4 miles that day. She kept running ahead then having to turn around when I'd call her back cuz she was leaving us in the dust. My 5 year old just jogged and jogged, anxious to see what the next color station would be. And my 3 year old kept his eyes focused infront, turning down every single offer to take a break and ride in the stroller. And they all kept this up until the finish line. Well, except there was a point, at about mile 2, that I had to put #6 in the stroller to sprint ahead to catch up with the girls and get out of a trafficky area. After about 1 minute he whined to get out. So I took him out and yes, he finished the race strong.

I couldn't believe it!!! I realized I should have put my 7 year old with her dad and big sister and I learned that my 5 year old doesn't feel pain when she's happy. She LOVED getting to those color stations. And I learned that my 3 year old is very determined and has endless energy. I learned that I've got pretty good runners on my hands!

And child #7 cried the whole. Entire. Time. No joke.

The entire family, at one point or another, ran through the finish line. It was such a great morning!

And no, child #1 didn't finish in first place. But he did finish 3rd of his age group. Or so he says. :) Child #2 finished about 3 minutes behind. And that's a kid who was born with a club foot. So I was happy!

The day continued with soccer games. Child #1 didn't have a game, so that was nice. He got to stay behind to help me with the other kids. Our first game was #4's game. She didn't score, but she did such a great job PASSING!!! At this age, a well executed pass is way more impressive than a goal. Trust me. It is. I also noticed that she did a great job getting herself into position to receive passes, so that was great!

I drove #3 out to her game, but had to leave her there in the care of her coach as her game was at the exact same time as #5's game and that is also the team I coach. So I dropped her off, wished her luck, and took off quickly. I found out by her coach that she did great, overcoming a silly fear she has. This is for a later post.

I drove us all back for #5's game. This child of mine loves soccer, mainly cuz it's fun because she gets to be with new friends. When she plays, she has a smile on her face that you can see from the moon, however she plays as if she's on an Easter Egg hunt. She'll see the ball, run up to it, dance around it, and watch to see what the rest of the group is doing. If she happens to kick it, she does so as if it's an injured bunny and doesn't want to hurt it. And if the ball happens to roll past it, she'll once again look to see what everyone else is doing. With a ginormous smile on her face.

Her team has gotten creamed every game this season. But if you ask them, they say they win. And that's just great!

I will be posting child #2's soccer game. It deserves it's own post.

Now, for the things I learned this Saturday. I'm not a fan of an overscheduled family. Not at all. I am, however, a fan of sports because sports means exercise and teaching kids the value and the FUN in sports and exercise is invaluable!!! There is a feeling of accomplishment, of achievement, of success when you participate in sports. You learn how to set and reach goals, how to win graciously and lose graciously. You learn how to better yourself, how to push yourself. You learn the wisdom of resting. Of eating healthy. You make great friends. You strengthen your heart, your lungs, your mind. Sports and exercise are as important as breathing air, drinking water, and going to church.

That's why I feel sorry for people who don't exercise. They miss out on so much!! But I think the reason they miss out on it, is they don't see the fun in it. So my grand plan is to expose my kids just to the FUN of it. Trick them into loving it! :)

And for the record, I ended up having to reschedule my photo shoot, so that freed up my day a bit.

All in all, it was a great day. And the cherry on top was having Matt tell me, "I'm so glad you made me do that. We need to do this more as a family." Followed up by child #1 asking, "When's that mud run?"

Mon$y making v$ntur$

When I grew up, we didn't have much in the way of TV. We never had cable and were always limited to the few local stations and when we moved to Germany ~ well, wouldn't make much sense to watch anything local. We watched a bunch of videos. Mainly the ones you can check out from the library. We were dependent on the military base, so a military library's video selections ... not what you'd call stellar.

Sooo, wasn't much into TV. And I'm still that way. Now when I'm sitting watching something on TV, it gives me the itches. I start to need to do things. It's irritating. I can't relax. Some people say that they like to relax, so they'll watch TV. When I want to relax, I just take a nap. That's relaxing. I don't really see anything better than napping to get relaxed!!

Sooo, (lets see if I can't start every paragraph with a long sooooo) this attitude, or sickness, or blessing, however you see it, spreads over into anything TV related. i-touch. smartphone. i-pod. android. blueberry. i-touchpad. i-whatchamajiggy. i-shouffle. walkphone. bluetooth. So many electronic devices out there. I don't understand any of it. Needless to say, my kids want them.

Sooo, these things aren't cheap. Like, really. Not. Cheap. And personally, I think the only expensive thing any child should ever own is an i-nstrument. You want a $300 toy? Sure, here's your French Horn. Not something the size of a stamp!

And I'm dead set against it. My kids think that the reason they don't get said objects is because they're 1 of 7 children. That is part of the reason, but the other part is, I said so.

And they beg, and they beg, and they beg. And I end up sounding like a broken record. Do they even get that phrase, "broken record"? Probably not.

And then one day, a light bulb went off in my head. And I gathered my sweet treasures and said, "If you really want your i-stuff, you'll have to earn it." They cheered. I raised my hand so they wouldn't waste too much time cheering. Because they know they get paid for chores and grades.

"You have to earn every penny of it sewing or winning essay contests."

Here's another catch. Lets say they make $10. First they pay tithe, leaving $9. Then they have to put half of that into their savings accounts, leaving $4.50. So although they make $10, they get $4.50 to put towards their black hole of time toys.

Soooo, here's my thinking. None of my kids so far loves to sew. They do it because they have dreams. Sewing is hard for them. I'm standing right over their shoulder, expecting perfection (if you sew, you know what I mean. You start a project just a tad bit off, it ends a train wreck. Hey, lesson in life!!)

I hate the idea of my kids making enough to buy i-whatevers. I don't like to see society's kids with their noses down, fingers flying, while the days shine bright and beautiful.

However, by doing it the "hard" way, I'm hoping for some valuable lessons. #1. learning a trade. Girls AND BOYS benefit from learning to sew. #2. Appreciating hard work. #3. The whole, don't start something wrong, it'll end disasterous lesson #4. Feeling of pure accomplishment #5. Entreprenuership ~ is that even a word? And if it is, how the heck is it spelled? #6. Maybe after working so hard, I'm hoping in the end, they won't want to spend their hard earned money frivalously (there's no spell check in blogs.)

Right now they'r making bags. "Church" bags I call them because we go to church every Sunday and they're perfect for scriptures, notebooks, pens, magazines, lost sock, random tossed shoe, jacket no longer needed. You get the picture. They're selling for $35. It costs $18 to make them (on a good day). Leaving them $17. Tithing brings it to $15.30. Half of that is $7.65. They want $200 toys. They'd need to sell over 26 bags. Bwahahaha (evil laugh spelling?) this'll take them years!!! :)

Here are some samples. If you like any of these, they're ready to ship. If you want something else, just let us know! The kids are anxious to make millions! :)

Let the games begin!

It's started. The dreaded soccer season. See, I love soccer. I didn't play it growing up, except for a few times with some friends at the park near out house. Except I remember playing with a tennis ball. And I DO remember scoring a lot with that little ball. My sophomore year of high school we had moved to Germany. I had been on the cross-country team which rolled over to the basketball season. When that was over, I planned to be on the track team, but just got curious about soccer. I figured I couldn't play. I heard that soccer players sprint 9 miles in games and I knew I couldn't SPRINT 9 miles. Then I saw a chubby girl with her cleats, heading to try outs. I thought, "ummm, I KNOW I can run more than she can!" So that day I joined a group of girls trying out for the soccer team. I scored that day, too. The Varsity coach wanted me on her team. I told the JV coach, "I know nothing about soccer. I don't want to play Varsity." That was a good move on my part. I played every game, every minute, on the JV team that season. At the end of the season I joined the Varsity team for the end of the year tournament. I sat bench the whole time. Thank goodness I didn't play Varsity. I'd have had ZERO time on the field during games. Anyway, thus began my passion for soccer. I had wished I had the "experience" that some of my team mates had, I felt I'd have been a much better player had I begun as a 6 year old whether than a 16 year old, but it was all good. I ate the sport up and finally, IT spit me out in 1997 when I obliterated my knee during a pick up game at BYU. I figure I'll just be back on the soccer fields come the millenium. ANYWAYS! My kids LOVE the sport. I'm an official "soccer mom." Whatever that really means. All my kids started in preschool and have played ever since. They're not super human good (OK, the boys aren't. They hold their own, but don't stand out.) My girls on the other hand. They're awesome. Anyways, this is a lot of bragging writing for what I really meant by this post. Just saying that although the season is crazy with 5 kids playing on 5 different teams, I'm up for the job. Because I love what they're doing. I had an interesting conversation today with a friend of mine. We were talking about "pushing" our kids in sports. She said that it seemed to her, EVERYONE was pushing their kids on the fields. Signing them up for expensive camps, putting them in tournaments cities away, emptying their wallets to do so. And these kids weren't even 10! She said she didn't agree with it, but maybe that was the wrong attitude? That maybe she needed to push her kids, expose them to these "opportunities" to make them better players. I told her I agreed with her, end of story. In Brazil you see kids of all ages, working MAGIC with "soccer balls" aka oranges, balled up socks, etc. There were no camps for these kids. Just a ball and a bunch of spirit. And believe you me: put a team of 10 year old soccer playing Brazillian kids against a similar team of Americans and hate to say it, I'm putting ALL my money on the Brazillian kids. Heck, put these same kids in the field with a high school team from America. I'm still betting on the Brazillians!! I guess the point I'm making here is I feel the best way to instill a sport or the love of sports into our children is to simply let the children enjoy it. Toss them a ball and let them play. Resist the urge to live our failed Olympian lives through them. Do we care so much what people think of us as parents that we put the pressure on our children so that our children, not us, can show our friends what great people we are? Do we really just want the "Joneses" to see how amazing we are as our children sail across soccer fields and over basketball courts? I mean cuz really, it's OUR DNA that's exposed when they do the amazing things they do. And then come high school, they're burnt out and want nothing to do with the sport. I may be sounding super hypocritical here because our family has pure and utter chaos thanks to sports. Soccer, swim team, basketball. Yes, we do a lot of sports. I think it's so important. Sports does things for kids that nothing else can. On all levels. Cardio, self-esteem, goal orientation, dealing with losing, being gracious with wins. Team work, sense of belonging. Gosh, the list goes on forever. Anyways. Our season has started. It's crazy. But it's a good crazy. I can tell because so far, at the end of every practice or game, my kid comes off the field in a contented mood. If that ever changes, I'll have to do some re-evaluating.

My gut tells me ...

Oh my gosh, I have a gut that won't stop!! How do I get rid of it?! OK, I'm not really looking for advice. I do know how to get rid of guts, but she's telling me that she loves me and wants to stick around. And my kids love my gut. They slap it, smash their faces into it, my babies have all tried to nurse from it. They even knead it and say they're making pie crust.

Our RAT'S $44 vet bill

The other night my son comes to me and by the look on his face, I assume his left arm had been ripped off of him and he couldn't find it. "What's WRONG?!" I asked him. "I ... " and then the dam breaks and he's crying. My mind is racing. "You WHAT?" I ask again. Through his tears, he tells me that he needs to find a new home for his rat. I asked why he thought that and still crying, tells me he hasn't played with it enough and because of it, thinks his rat's dying. We go to inspect it. There's red "holes" around it's shoulders and a huge lump up near it's front leg. I'm Filipino and so are my children (in case you were wondering) but my son suddenly looked albino. His "knowledge" about rats led him to believe it was bored because he hadn't played enough with it, so it was now eating itself. I hate rodents. I almost hate all animals. Not becaue I never loved them. I wanted to be a vet and considered myself a "dog whisperer" when I was my pre-child self. I even had a rat in college. It's just that now, I don't want to deal with things that eat themselves when they're bored. Or poop for that matter. I get to deal with enough poop as it is. But my poor child faulted himself for his rat's slow, but eventual, suicide. It's a freaking rat. A rodent. A pest. People kill them, snakes swallow them. And my son has one named Jasmine. GRRRRR!!! Can't I just stomp on it's head, toss it in the trash, and start all over? I mean, we already have the cage, bedding, water bottle and even a wheel. A rat's a rat and like gnats, they all need to die. So what do I do? I call the vet. The one near my house, first. "How much for a rat visit?" "That would be $48 for the visit, and then whatever medications he'd need." "It's a rat." "I know." "$50 for a rodent? And then there's MEDICATIONS?" "Yes." "Thanks!" And I hung up, more shocked than irritated. So I called another vet and she quoted me $23. It's only because $23 is less than $48, but I actually got excited. Then I decided to have a frank, 1-on-1 with the lady on the phone. "Really, it's a rat. What would you do for it?" "I actually have a rat. He's awesome! So sweet. You need to meet him!" "Ma'ma, we're talking about a rat, right?" (Chuckle) "Yeah, it's crazy, but it's true. I love him!" "So does my son, so I guess I'll make the appointment." I decided that I needed to make my son a part of the process, plus I didn't want to pick the rat up, so I picked him up from school to attend the proceedure. I dropped him off, waited in the car as he fetched "Jasmine" and we raced to the vet. I met the lady I had spoken to the day before and because she knew we were coming in, she brought "Scott" to work. "Scott" wasn't a rat. He was an overgrown guinea pig with a pink whip for a tail. Scott made me want to vomit. But she snuggled him, loved on him, and you know, I actually saw what she meant. He was a sweet rat. I bet, out in nature, there exist sweet spiders and friendly wasp larvae, but I really don't care. So we go see the vet. She's actually a friend of mine which made THAT part of the visit fun. She asked a bunch of questions and we realized what had happened. Jasmine had escaped from the kids and hid in the water heating vents we have all over our house. Apparently she had gotten burned. And one of the burns got infected. And the infection had abcessed (sp?) So guess what? They drained the lump. I couldn't watch, but the look on the assistant's face turned my stomach. She would gasp and say, "wow that's a lot of puss ... OH! Now THAT was a lot! Oh wow! It's green!" I wanted to leave and set the rat free in the woods. As the vet put the rat back, she noticed yet another lump. And before I knew it, she drained it right infront of me. I saw puss. I already am not a fan of rats. I'm a less fan of puss. Put the 2 together and it makes me cranky. But my son was beaming. He was so happy to know there was a "cure" for his rat, and also to know it wasn't his "fault." He was equally proud of his rat for not even biting at the vet or her assistant. At the counter, I prepared myself for the ridiculousness of paying a vet bill for a rat. "That's going to be $68." "SIXTY EIGHT!?!?!?!" (My immediate impulse was to return the rat and service, as if it was a pair of jeans. I've never spent $68 on a pair of jeans, either. I've never spent $68 really on anything besides a grochery bill or car repair.) I reminded her that Scott's owner had quoted me $23. Scott's owner came to the rescue. And dropped my bill to $44. Still too much for a rat. And we don't have $44. Matt's back in school. Student loans and help from family. That's it. We don't have $44 for a rat. So yeah, I put it on the Credit card. There was no other way to do it. But that was 8 hours ago. And if I could go back in time, I'd have done it again. I just felt that it was the right thing to do. It's so important that kids feel loved, validated, important. And really, in a large family, it's important that no one gets lost in the shuffle. So I feel that when an opportunity presents itself to literally spell out to my child, "You are important, your feelings are important, and I'm going to validate you," I'm going to do it. I tell my kids I love them every day. I hug them often, kiss them often, tell them they're great, tell them I'm proud of them. But at times, I do feel it's important to "walk the talk" if that makes sense. It was a $44 rat visit. But seeing how my child walked around today, going overboard to help me in the kitchen, going the extra mile by taking the trash out w/o me asking him. He even willingly cleaned his sister's chores and just seemed happy to do it, I feel like maybe he's doing these things because that rat visit made him feel important. It's been a good day actually. Now, if I see more "lumps", we'll be letting nature take it's course next time around. Cuz we can't be making these parent moments too much of a habit!!