A more (mostly) positive update

I dislike leaving such a negative post up for so long as the front of my page...you know, for all of my millions of readers. So the carpets are clean, the boys had fun at Father and Sons and I recovered (most of me anyway) from gorging myself on unhealthy eats. I also got to go to California and see some friends last weekend while the boys went camping at the sand dunes. It was so nice to see my friends. It turns out I can manage my life beautifully all by myself!! And sleeping in a dark hotel by yourself is highly underrated. At least for two days, anyway. Adam should get father of the year award for taking both boys and the dog camping AND making it half way through church by himself on Father's day. I also made it up the incline for the first time since my ankle injury...super slow recovery that has been frustrating and made me look like I should be trekking up the incline EVERYDAY. I went with this fun group of ladies from my ward though and we had a good time. 0/2gxChBFuICI/s1600/F%2Band%2BS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em">

I sure earn my breaks around here

Did I just drown my sorrows in a Hot n Ready Little Caesars pizza, crazy bread and a very large Diet Coke? Yes, yes I did. But the coke was caffeine free because I want to go to sleep tonight--let's not get TOO wild here. Tonight was supposed to be my little personal party anyway since it is the most highly anticipated night of the year for a mom of two wild boys...wait for it: Father and sons campout!! Times like these make having only boys so awesome. So I was planning to indulge at the pool with a superficial magazine and some red licorice anyway, but then Eli REALLY made me deserve it, so much so that the pizza and crazy bread got included in my party too. I honestly don't even want to discuss what he did. But let's just say it involved bodily functions deliberately smeared on carpet/wall/dresser/air vent (and who knows what else I missed); and it turned my anticipated happy waves and kisses goodbye into a furious disposition summed up nicely by the phrase "hurry up and get the **** out of here before something really bad happens." Let's also just say that if an all boys campout was not already planned, Eli would have been sent camping. Alone. Without a sleeping bag. So that was lucky. And it was also lucky that I was already planning on borrowing a carpet cleaner tomorrow. And it was even luckier that when I got in the car to go pick up the aforementioned indulgences, my few favorite country songs happened to be playing, most notably "Where the green grass grows." That song always makes me happy and carefree. And then I think it was more than luck that while I was trying to mindlessly drive, and just forget, that I instead started wondering what in the world to do with this kid who struggles so much with bewildering, wildly unpredictable naughty choices, how I am ever going to get through to this kid, get him through his formative years in life and help him figure out how to listen to the conscience I KNOW he has somewhere, wondering if it is possible for him to avoid any of the painful consequences he will certainly incur from making impulsive, impetuous, DUMB decisions...all of this is going through my head and I suddenly had a fleeting vision of the day I would send my son on a mission. And how glorious and awful it will be. And I burst into tears and thought "Really? Will we get there?" And I think Heavenly Father told me we would. Or at least that we could. And I was like "Are you sure???" And then I felt sure. Tender mercy I was not necessarily looking for. I was planning to just marinate in madness until they return tomorrow. But I think the better answer is to forget and move on, repeat as needed. I think that is the answer for just about every day with Eli--forget and move on because there will be something new tomorrow and accumulating frustration helps no one. For all of the things Eli puts me through, I know he is a good kid deep down. He is just learning how to show deep affection and, sometimes even, sorrow for the wacky things he does. Not all of the time, but that is new and good. I know he is capable of so much. He is funny and fun and wild and crazy. But he is smart and sweet and I just haven't quite figured out the best way to help him channel the strengths he has that I know can help him overcome his weaknesses. I am sure that is the universal struggle of every parent--basically, how do I make my kid learn, and more importantly decide, to be the best he can be and rise to his potential? I know it is not unique. But it feels burdensome and heavy to me right now. So I am grateful for every tiny little reassurance I can get that reinforces the idea that he will be fine. I am a little sick from licorice and pizza and coke. But now I am going to go take a bath and watch something stupid like "Pregnant in Heels" or the like. Don't tell, but I actually love that show. And sleep in until, like, 8am! And then go on a walk and borrow the carpet cleaner. Because now the carpets really need to be cleaned. Forget and move on, repeat.

We heart Colorado

Everything we love is here: mountains, sunshine, clear blue skies, dry air, good Diet Coke, parks, hiking and running and trails and--probably most importantly--lots of people who are also raising families and therefore do not hate us simply because we have children. (I realize given the subject of my most recent post, that might seem strange...) So here are some pictures of a few of our favorite things: Park + sand - ocean= better than the beach:

My souvenir from hiking the Incline,

an old cog railroad track that goes 2000 feet up a mountain in 3/4 of a mile. I swear you can see to Kansas at the top. So pretty that it was worth even the torn ligaments I sustained in a fall on the way down.

Some more pictures from the boys' dream days in Boulder working the tractors for Grandpa...does your Grandpa work in the woods???

I really hope we stay here. Being back near the Rocky Mountains makes me realize I never want to live anywhere else but somewhere near them. I have enjoyed, for various reasons, all of the different places we have lived. But there is no place like home, said Dorothy wisely, and it is a simple, true truth to which I wholeheartedly subscribe.

Venting

I am hoping that my blog will make me feel better. I didn't sleep very well last night. And it is so stupid. But its not, too. I might as well do a quick update as well while I am on here, since THAT doesn't happen very often...we are all settled in in Colorado Springs and I really really love it here. We have a great neighborhood and the sun shines all the time and there is a Target two blocks away! Adam loves his job and we love even the idea of knowing we can drive back to Utah and family in a day if we want to. Adam's dad was out here doing a job in Boulder for a few weekends so we went up there to watch the helicopters and play in the mountains.

What a gorgeous sliver of the Rocky Mountains. My kids were in heaven. We even got to sleep in the "bus house" and Tate yammers on non-stop about helicopters dropping hay on the mountain. Eli is all registered for kindergarten; I am a little apprehensive about it because I know he will probably struggle... which brings us to my need for decompression. I have made no secret of the fact that Eli is a difficult child. Nothing with him is ever easy or smooth. He has an impeccable propensity for trouble making and has a very very hard time following even simple rules. HOWEVER. He is sweet and friendly and charismatic and fun and is so excited about playing with all of the kids in our neighborhood. Having just turned 5 and learning how to ride on two wheels, I feel confident about letting him play out in our cul de sac with the neighbor kids. I feel like he is old enough to start figuring out how to be a good friend and play like a normal kid. There seems to be a general consensus to let the kids play without parental hovering and it is a lovely throwback to yesteryear when kids just played with sticks and rocks and chased each other on their bikes. And mostly, it has been a great experience and so so fun to watch. But our next door neighbors hate us. Honestly, I get it: Their kids are older. Their youngest daughter is 7--we have two very young, obnoxious, mischievous boys... They hate dogs--we have a very obnoxious dog. They are meticulous about their yard and it shows; the contrast between our two sets of grass and plants is laughable. So the dog and the kids pose a threat to their beautiful yard and landscaping (I am not being sarcastic--our kids really do walk on the rock wall and wander into their yard because we do not currently have a dividing fence and I simply cannot contain them all the time. They get out.) So my only interactions thus far with my next door neighbor have been her yelling at me because my dog was barking or my kids were irritating her. Fair enough. But yesterday, for the very first time since we moved here, the backdoor neighbor's little girl, Kennedy, came and knocked on our door for Eli to play. That may not sound like much, but it was a big deal. He was ecstatic and so was I, lame, I know. Not 10 minutes later he came in with giant tears and a red face to say that Ava's mom (the next door neighbor) told him to go inside. My heart sank. I went over to ask why, assuming I would need to apologize for something wrong that he did. She lit into me again, beginning, weirdly, with "I know you hate me..." I shook my head and was silent but was thinking, "well you haven't given me very many opportunities to like you." I asked if he was being mean or what the problem was. She retorted, "He is 4, Ava is 7. He is always walking on my rock wall and Ava can't be expected to tell him no all the time." I didn't know what to say so I just said I was sorry and that he just wants to play. It really sucked, then, to watch every neighborhood kid congregate in my neighbor's yard and explain to Eli why he cannot play. In one sense, it is good: Eli has got to learn that if we wants to play, he has to follow rules and play nice. And that is the only way he is going to learn to respect what other people say. But the REAL problem and the reason why I am upset is that my neighbor has now poisoned her daughter against Eli, and she has in turn poisoned the neighbor kids. She yelled at him in front of them so now they think they can do the same. And, now that I realize that, I put together the fact that every time Ava is outside, all of the kids spend most of their time knocking on my door to tell me that Eli "went to the end of the street" or "he can't come in our yard" or "he said shut up" or "he almost hit me with his bike." Like I said, I know Eli is difficult. But it is so painful to have other people point it out, especially people with whom I would like him to play. Its like privately admitting you are fat and being self aware about it, but it hurts so much worse if someone else says it. I personally have pretty thick skin. I don't care much if the neighbors are intolerant or unkind, that is their problem and it doesn't really affect me at this stage of my life that much. But it does affect Eli to have other kids label him and treat him like the "bad kid." And I hurt so much for my child as I watch him try to make friends. I am just starting to realize now that Eli's behavior is going to start affecting HIM and his relationships with other people--not just Adam and me. Up until now, it has only been hard on us. And my heart just breaks for him because I know he will struggle...as much as I would love him to just get along easily with friends, I know he will not. And I know he has got to figure out how to do it on his own. There is not much I can do without turning into a person that I really do not want to be. That hurts.

Updates via belated birthday letters

Dear Eli and Tate:

5 and 2 you two are. I won’t lie, my crazy little crazies—I often feel like you two are the equivalent difficulty level of ten children. If you were a ski slope, you would be a double black diamond, WITH moguls and ice. But I adore you. I love spending my days with you and listening to the alternating mix of nutty nonsense and profound wisdom that comes out of your mouths. We have put you two through a lot this year, including but not limited to two cross country moves in less than a year and all the disruptions that come with that. I am amazed and grateful at how resilient you have been while I have been distracted and preoccupied for the better part of the last year with moving arrangements, important decisions and disappointing miscarriages…I freely confess to letting these circumstances get the better of me on many occasions. I am humbled at how forgiving you are of my impatience with you; you both return kindness for my unkind words and actions to you, hugs for harsh words, and sheepish smiles and shrugs for my frustration. Maybe all the things I think I am teaching you in vain would begin to be more effective if I would allow more of the kindnesses you show me to affect my teaching methods. I will try to do better in the next year and, to that same end, I will REALLY try to not move again. All that being said, the last year has been a very polarizing mix of trying and exciting, which I guess pretty well sums up what any given day with you boys is like.





Eli: Sometimes, little son, I think Heavenly Father sent you to me for the very specific reason of teaching me how to pray. I mean really, get down on my knees and beg for help. I have learned through being your parent the last 5 years that I am no good at asking. I am really good at accepting hard things and not questioning why things are the way they are. I am not so good at asking for specific things that I need personally revealed to me. You, my boy, have not only been a direct source of insight into my own thoughts with your 24/7 barrage of incessant questions, but you have also given me many many reasons to ask for help from Heavenly Father. Eli, I do not want you to think that I do not love every tiny little part of your busy spirit. But I swore the day you were born that I would never lie to you. And I would be lying if I said that you were not a difficult child. I believe your spirit was sent to me to help me navigate my own weaknesses. Because the ones I have must be strengthened if I am going to lead you down the path we all want you to follow. You are my own personal refiner’s fire. I am sorry that I will probably be a better mother to your younger siblings, but I know you have many unique abilities that will help you overcome my weaknesses as a parent: Despite the influence of that stupid show Chuggington which has taught you to parrot phrases like “Oh, I just can’t do it” and “Its no use, I will never be able to finish” you are remarkably, painstakingly persisitent. (By the way, no more Chuggington.) Your powers of persuasion are going to amount to something far more positive than making me wish I had a mute button some day. I think you hung out with Socrates in the pre-mortal life. You certainly have perfected the Socratic method of learning. I have no doubt that you will make your life a habit of life-long learning due to your inquisitive nature: You ask about the meaning of every third or fourth word every time we read scriptures; you quiz me non-stop about blinking lights, the mechanics of the refrigerator and the distance to the moon. You are so friendly and gregarious and outgoing. I am so confident of your potential son. I know you are capable of just about anything if we can polish your rough edges and channel your energy. You are smart and charismatic and have an unlimited amount of energy that somehow still surprises me every single day. You are such a good brother to Tate and I love watching you make him laugh; you love doing anything that will make him laugh and that makes me happy. I love you so much and I am so proud of all of the good things you are doing. I honestly can’t wait to see what you are going to do with your life; if the surprises I get on a day to day basis are an indication of the pattern your life will take going forward, we are all in for a wild ride. And I am excited. I love you buddy, happy birthday my big five year old.





Tate: From the day you were born, I knew you were made mostly of sugary-sweet something, which was a fitting personality for a kid who weighed nearly 30 pounds at 6 months. I didn’t know quite how much your environmental surroundings (ie, aforementioned sibling) would influence your capacity for persistent destruction; but at the end of the day, you are still my sweet snuggly boy at whom I just can’t help smiling- even when you are standing in front spilled milk, dumped with skilled precision through my wooden bench, covering every square inch of the puzzles and dripping nicely in a long line onto the carpet. That happened on Saturday. You melt my heart Tate. I don’t know whether it is because I can so easily predict your daily reactions or meltdowns or whether I see a little bit of myself in you. If Eli was sent to help me overcome my weaknesses, I think you were sent to soften my heart and make me laugh and smile while I am trying to do that. You are such a good little talker/rambler. You are sensitive and predictable. And even though you like to erupt in screaming fits after I ask you to do something like put your truck down or share a toy, you always do it. Sometimes, if I am in a particularly mean mood, I will tell you to do something just to see you be implicitly obedient and then freak out! I shouldn’t do that…but it is way funny. Something that we seriously need to discuss though? You climbing into my bed every night about 2am! You have outsmarted me completely. At first you used to walk in and proclaim, “Hi mom!” But you figured out quickly that that landed you right back in your bed. So now, you stealthily climb up at the bottom of the bed and creep in as quietly as possible. It is not until a few hours later when you are magnetically attached to my back that I realize you are even there. You little stinker. And then it is really funny if I ask you if you are supposed to sleep in my bed, always replying no with a wicked snicker. I love that you love me Tate. I love that you always want a hug, that you tell me how important it is to be nice to friends—“no hitting, no biting, be soft,” and that you get so passionate/crazy about the food you want or toys you want to play with. Your diggers and tractors have a tremendously good best friend in you my little buddy. And so does your brother. I am so happy that I am your mom. I love you buddy, happy birthday my big two year old.

Exploring our new region

Life has been good, if not slow, since we moved to New Hampshire. I spend far less time cleaning up after my kids because all of the messes they make in the backyard bother me far less than they did in closed quarters. I feel like we have unleashed our formerly caged kids into the great wide open and they just love it. They play in our backyard most all of everyday. Sometimes clothed, sometimes not. Whatever. Live free or die right? It is the New Hampshire way.




So this past week, we took a mandatory vacation while Adam's office closed. We went up to Acadia National Park in Maine and it was absolutely spectacular. The boys loved it. I loved it. We camped for two nights and stayed in a hotel (acting as a stink and decent night's sleep buffer) in between. I am not a huge fan of campground camping but I would go back to this one again just to pick the wild blueberries again! It was amazing. I picked for about an hour and this is what I came home with. I know it doesn't look like much but I was pretty proud. And for a moment, as I looked up and out over the hills and ocean to check on my kids--Eli hunting in the bushes with a stick and Tate sitting smack down in the bush, blue faced snacking on dirt and blueberries--I was in heaven. Often I have thought that I would have been a terrific pioneer wife and homesteader. And I totally felt like one letting my boys roam the Earth, not caring one bit they they smelled like campfire and dirt and were just plain downright disgusting and dirty, whilst I was gathering food straight off the ground.




So we brought home the blueberries and a giant LIVE lobster we lovingly named Pinchy. Pinchy and Duane rode in the back together. It is too bad that only one of our "pets" lived to see the next day. Needless to say, we (by we, I mean Adam...I couldn't watch) cooked and consumed our first lobster. It was pretty good but I later learned we chose one that was too big; the sweet, tender and juicy ones are apparently 2 lbs or less.






Anyway, things are good. Adam is loving his job and just picked up another day working at a state prison, which he is ecstatic about. Pulling teeth and mingling with convicts--brushing up on all of the information he has learned from watching "Gangland"--what is not to love? Our house still has not sold. Which is beyond frustrating and bad and all that. But what do you do? Keep trying and quit whining I guess. The best news is that Tate and I get to go to Indiana to see my sister Chelsea and her family. Wahoo! We, how do I put this...well, we both need a break from a certain 4 year old who lives in this house. Don't get us wrong, we love him. But...we just need a break. So to Indiana we go.