SHHHH.... IT'S A SECRET

Tonight we'll be doing THIS. Although I'm not sure how much eating and playing our clan will be doing because we've been struck down with the illness from the dark side. It's been a solid week of misery, coughing, headaches, stomach issues, aches, pains, fevers etc. etc.....
Regardless, Rita will throw a spectacular party as always and I will announce my intentions for 2014 tomorrow. Last year I never really settled on my intention and I sort of forced a topic,  and it's usually something that is so obvious I can't help but know exactly what the universe is telling me to focus on. This year is obvious. I know EXACTLY what I need to set my sights on - the universe and my spirit are making it very clear.

Cheers to a New Year celebration and criss cross that my "minute to win it" games will be a hit tonight!

A BLURRY MESS OF JOY

We are sooooo ready for Christmas! Are you? 99% of all purchases this year were made online. Yeah, like I could have made it through a single trip to any store this time of year with three kids.... and not lose my sanity. It's been perfect, each day the kids go down for a nap (well, we attempt, since now the boys get cheap thrills off climbing into each other's cribs and/or climbing out and destructing their room) and I open the front door to a surprise of brown packages just waiting to be secretly hustled downstairs into the "Christmas Closet." There the gifts await to be wrapped during the dark hours of the night when said naughty little kids have finally fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion and they are no longer energized enough to climb crib railings.

We tree shopped at our favorite tree farm again this year, which marks 6 years in a row (minus the year we lived with the folks). I of course only captured a few blurry shots of the children running in all different directions, at the same time. That's kinda how life is right now anyway so it was perfect... A fun blurry mess of smiles and laughter.



And if you're wondering why I have no pictures of my dearest daughter, it's a phase. We have to pretend to be texting to capture her, sans silly face making or hiding from the camera.
And if you're also wondering where our Christmas card is.... It will be a New Years card, because we're cool like that.

See you on the flip side!

ADOPTION - PANDORA'S BOX Part 2

Before I could even explain our circumstances fully to the ski-boot sales woman-  (who by the way should have asked about my level of ski experience before giving me a 10 min. tutorial on how to buckle a boot... Lady, I could out ski you on any powder run on any mountain on any day... just give me the boot already!) Anyway, I was saying... before I could fully explain our circumstances of how our family quickly and very unexpectedly grew to add three children, the woman took the topic of adoption and ran with it. She showed no hesitation to interject her own opinion; "I don't know HOW anyone can just GIVE a baby away, I mean, how horrible! I got pregnant when I was 20 and I'VE raised my daughter alone. I just can't imagine how someone could do that. blah blah blah"

Ohhhhhh Kaaaaayyyyyy tell me how you really feel is what I wanted to spout off. But I didn't, I politely replied with the truth about my children's birth moms - "You know, these women are amazingly strong and capable people who very well could have raised their babies. And they both love their babies very very much" .... I went on to try to open her eyes to the idea of providing a child with a complete family with the stability and love to be the very most successful and blessed version of themselves.
I might as well been talking to Owen's stuffed monkey doll because this lady was having non of it. She chattered on and on about what a "horrible" thing I've done also, to just take someones baby and then get pregnant afterward. This time I didn't hold my tongue so much. "Yeah, well just so you know my husband and I were married for over a decade and never used birth control and that includes 4 years of invasive fertility treatments and of ALL of that sex... we only resulted in 1 successful pregnancy. So it's not like it was planned." (Sorry TMI - I'm well aware but I was feeling helpless and humiliated and I didn't know how else to stand up for myself.)

Her commentary on the subject of adoption and her liberal upbringing continued on and repeatedly bashed me as an adoptive mother, all the while adjusting the ski boot. I grew silent as I realized that nothing I could say to this woman would help her see the miraculous gift I was given to be a mother. I was never going to convince her of the grace, maturity, selfless Christ like love my children's birth mothers possess. I so badly wanted her to understand a birth parent's loving actions. I fought back tears and frustration while I waited for her to finish pontificating and give me my box with boots in it.
I hurried out of there as fast as I could, shared my humiliation with Kday and he offered to report her. I said it wouldn't do much good, it would just further her hatred toward "our kind." Whatever we are...

I cried the whole way home, luckily the children napped so they didn't see their mother broken hearted.
I have always carried with me a heavy load of guilt as an adoptive mom. Very few people will ever watch a woman sacrifice her motherhood for her child's needs. And as the woman on the receiving end of that sacrifice, one that allows me to be a mother... I can't help but feel guilty for that woman's pain. My journey to motherhood didn't come without someone else's unbearable pain. I don't take my role as my kids mom lightly because of that. So it's hurts me so badly when this sales woman somewhat validated my feelings of guilt for becoming a mother at someone else's expense.

The spirit has been whispering to me though to remind me that I didn't ask for infertility, I didn't take anyone's child... my children were a gift and I need to move foreword with gratitude - not guilt. I hope my kids' birth parents know how much I love them, how grateful I am for them, and how much I need their love and acceptance in return. I will never be able to express how much I KNOW of the love our birth mother's have for their babies, I KNOW they could have rallied their resources and chosen to parent. I KNOW that Heavenly Father wanted these babies to be in an eternal family also, I KNOW that he helped bring our families together for the greater good of our children's lives on earth. And I KNOW that someday in the after life our wounds will be healed and we can all live together and love each other for what we both sacrificed for our children. Maybe that's all I should have said to the sales woman, because no one can argue with a testimony of love.

ADOPTION - PANDORA'S BOX Part 1

2 points to take into consideration while reading this post: 
1. I like to think I'm in a position to be an advocate for adoption. I enjoy sharing the proper adoption etiquette lingo as well as hoping I can leave a positive impression on people who are new to adoption. I also love to speak positively about our children's birth parents and sing their praises for their strength and Christ like love.

2. I don't believe in dishonesty, it goes against my moral and religious beliefs and I don't want my kids to think it's OK to lie in situations when it's just plain easier than the truth.

That being said, let me tell you about my lunch date with Kday at REI today.
We meandered into the ski boot section well knowing the exact boot we wanted to walk out with today. I had already tried the boots on a month ago and we've  been saving our money and our 3 years worth of dividend to be able to afford them. I decided to try the boots on one more time before making the big purchase because I have commitment issues with spending large amounts of cash. Aaaannnnnyway, our kids were with us and the sales woman questions, in reference to the boys,  "Twins?"I get this question a lot and here's my constant dilemma - Tell the truth or lie and simply say yes twins? I've been known to lie once in awhile and it's for a variety of reasons:
A: It avoids a million awkward follow up questions with complete strangers about my fertility and/or the adoption process and judgment toward the birth parents.
B:  Sometimes I've just got to make a quick escape to the car before one of the kids poops their pants or melts down or chucks something and I just don't have 25 minutes to spend discussing my lack of ovulation - again, with complete strangers!
C: If I can tell that the person is already judging me in a negative light... then we have nothing to discuss. Some people are haters, they act like I walked into a hospital and stole a baby. And nothing I say will ever change their mind.
D: I don't want to hear the age old wives tale about "Oh, see... you just needed to relax!"C'mon people, relaxing doesn't fix non-functioning internal organs!!!!

But overall I don't like to lie because I've also had some really beautiful moments shared with complete strangers who tell me all about their adoption, or their grandkids who were adopted, or about the time they placed their baby and how happy they are to see how much I love my kids. With the truth I've been able to help people change their old-fashioned beliefs about adoption. The truth has it's own way of spreading the spirit of adoption and I don't want to stifle that. I can't however always feel the situation out before deciding with which answer I go with. Do I share our beautiful story? Or do I lie to  simplify the situation and get done what I'm there to get done?

Today I answered truthfully, "No they're not twins." (sometimes I can get away with just that) and she followed up with "how close in age are they!?"  With my honest answer I had un-knowingly just opened Pandora's box....

To Be Continued....................

DEAR SANTA

I don't mean to toot my own horn here, but Layla is a smarty pants galore. The girl figured out the concept of addition all by herself. The other day we were driving home from Rita's house and Layla asked how many 5 plus 5 was. I said, figure it out and no later than ten seconds passed when she answered correctly. So I started quizzing her on the subject and she didn't hesitate and didn't miss an answer! I'd love to say "Oh yes, we've been working on our math skills all summer," but that would be a lie... she's just a smart little cookie. With yummy cookie cheeks that I like to nibble on.

So when she asked to write a letter to Santa on Wednesday right during the middle of dinner prep (of course... it's like a silent siren sounds for all children to suddenly need everything within the 30 minutes it takes to get dinner made) I whipped out a sheet of scrap paper and a pencil and thought she would just scribble  a few makeshift words and call it good. Nope. I shoulda known better. She wanted a bonafied, legit letter to the Big Man at the North Pole and she wanted it word for word. I took a ruler to the page and plotted out some lines and she slowly and steadily asked how to spell each word in her carefully planned letter. "Mom, how do I spell DEAR?" And while I boiled lasagna noodles and saute'd spinach I'd respond, "D... now next to the D put an E.... next to the E put an A....." You get the picture. An hour and a half passed by and we had half a letter. Her hand was tired and I was bored so we agreed to rest and start again in the morning. Another hour spent finishing the letter and about thirty minutes drawing a picture -  and her first hand written and independently illustrated letter to Santa was ready to stuff in the envelope.

While we were discussing what to say in the letter we talked about the children who don't get toys on Christmas because they don't live in a house of their own. I asked Layla the open ended question if we could do anything about that and she volunteered to sacrifice her favorite Lalalo0psy doll and scooter. She excitedly told me how she would leave it under the tree for Santa to take to someone who wasn't going to get any toys. I was a proud to be the Mama of that smart little cookie.

Dear Santa:
I have been
a very good
helper with my
2 brothers this
year. Could you
please bring
me a Calico
Critter Ice Cream
Truck? I know
that some
 kids don't have
toys, so I want
to give them my
lalaloopsy
toy. I'll leave it
under the tree
Layla

A picture of her Lalalo0psy doll so Santa would know which one to take for the homeless children.

Aren't her e's just the best e's you've ever seen!? And those giant y's i can't get enough.
Dear Santa: Please don't let my Layla grow up at all this year. She is the perfect age and I don't ever want her to stop coloring, dancing, playing, singing,  and imagining like she does now.
Sincerely,
One happy mom.

MY "TA-DA" LIST

Since Tuesday was a complete disaster day learning day as a mother, and because I spent at least half my day on my knees in prayer begging the Lord to help me feel a little more successful.... My Wednesday was blessed. It was a good day, a lot was accomplished including play time and many moments of thanks sent heavenward for answered prayers.  I'm incorporating this fabulous idea from this amazing woman: Meg Johnson.

My Ta-Da List for Wednesday:

 clearly putting make-up on wasn't on the list.

*Put away three loads of laundry

*bathed, fed, and dressed all three kids - including french braids in Layla's hair

*Dropped Layla at pre-school

*Stopped at the bank

*Grabbed a dirty diet coke at the drive-thru (most important part of surviving Costco)

*Costco run with the boys

*Visited with a friend at costco

*returned an item to Deseret Bo0k

*Home and unloaded a million groceries

*walked over to pick Layla up from school

*Fed the kids

*Dressed Layla in ballet attire and dropped her off at ballet class

*Delivered books from my book party to 7 houses

*Picked Layla up

*Read stories to 3 very tired and cranky kids

*Tucked them into bed

*Blogged

*Cleaned/vacuumed/dishes (remember all those sippy cups I ignored... they had to be done eventually)

*Made an actual dinner

*Spent a few hours helping Layla write a letter to santa (I'll post about that tomorrow, the cutest thing EVER)

*Played cars with the boys

*At dinner as a family

*Watched a movie with the kids

*Tickled the kiddos and read bed time stories

*Dressed 3 wiggly kids in jammies

(I was exhausted by this point and my dear Kday finished up the teeth brushing and tucking in routine)

*Typed new class lists, room assignments, and door signs for our 2014 Primary Children

Whew, that's a typical weekday around these parts and I do very much love it. Very much. And as much as I know that people will judge me for my bad days, I continue to write without bias. I trust that those who know anything about the reality of parenting 3 beautiful children will understand that there are bound to be some rough days but that those bad days don't discredit the immeasurable amount of love I have for this job. It's worth every drip of blood, sweat and tears. 

MUDDLED LESSONS

Photo courtesy of: Kday, Cotton Sox photography, and Endurance 360

Man yesterday was a doooooozy. Have you ever had a day when you feel like your children people are slinging mud at you? Non. Stop? That was exactly how my day felt, and on one or two occasions snowy dirt mud was actually being flung at me. It was a moment in motherhood opposite of those sweet "M.A.M.A moments." It was in fact so far opposite, that it felt like an entirely different career path I had awoken to. The decibel level of whining toddlers pierced through my soul like a flechette and I lost all composure. Numerous. times. And by ALL composure... I mean - ALL composure. I screamed, I cried, I wailed, I stomped around the house... I basically reverted to acting like my small children. Nice job mom. I finally hit the floor on my knees after the kids were nestled for naps. I asked my Heavenly Father why I was so bad at a job I so desperately want to be great at. I poured out my desires unto my God and begged him to help me see more clearly what I was doing wrong and how to fix it. 

Then I picked myself up and salvaged what little bit of daylight was left.

Layla awoke and begged to play in the snow. She suited up and I watched through the kitchen window as she trampled around the yard and stomped through the fresh foot of powder on the deck. She was making a snow angel while I washed a mountain of dirty sippy cups and my answer came. My spirit whispered, you want to be a better mom? Then go outside and play with her. I ignored it and kept scrubbing away. It knocked on my heart again and said again (in a bit of an annoyed that I didn't listen the first time tone), you want to be a better mom? Go outside and play with her. 

I set the one of two thousand sippy cups down and followed my instructions. We played and laughed. We worked together to shovel clear the trampoline and then headed over to the neighbors driveway that  was still fresh with untouched Utah powder. I told her to sit down and help me plow the driveway by putting her legs out like a "V". Then I scooped her up with the shovel and slid her across the driveway. My own personal snow plow. She loved it and she even said, "Mom this is so much fun aaaaand we are doing service for the neighbors!" 

So much was learned yesterday. I need to stop requiring so much of my small children and remember that they learn through play, not through restrictions and constant discipline or lectures. Parenting is a hard job and its a REALLY hard job the more kids you have. I'm learning that not all 2 year olds are created equal and my expectations for each of them needs to vary a little. And I learned that I need to ask for more help from my Heavenly Father who knows my children better than I do, and who knows my desire for competency. 

The rest of the night was spent on the floor working out boyish wars over sharing hot wheels cars among other things. I spent time trying to teach through play instead of through run-on sentences of rules and expectations. Cars were still thrown, brothers were still pushed by one another, and they cried as much in the evening as they did in the morning... But I was more patient and willing to sacrifice my wants for their needs. And when the muddiness of the day cleared, life looked pretty good again with a fresh dusting of snow sent by God. 

REMEMBER HOW?....

Remember how the Halloween Extravaganza was over a month ago?

Remember how I totally couldn't wait to show you how much fun we had?

Remember how I put up our "Thanksgiving Tree" a month ago?

Remember how I couldn't wait to show you how awesome it looked this year?

Remember how this autumn season was long and perfect?

Remember how I was dying to post about how happy I was to enjoy it with the kids?

Remember how I prepared for winter before Halloween even arrived?

And remember how today when it actually snowed I felt totally unprepared and had a melt down?

Remember how I used to blog all about the awesome and not so awesome parts of parenting?

Well.... I remember too. 

And I'm itching to write.

But there is this one darned situation that has me feeling guarded, precautionary and well... a little defensive. 

I'm trying to toil through the sea of emotions so that I can open myself back up to my favorite readers.

So with this new white blanket of snow that is hiding the dirty grimy remnants of autumn... 

I plan to blanket you with postings in an effort to stow away my insecurities and restlessness. 

PRIVACY OR FREEDOM.

This post has been mulling around in the back of my mind at great length for well over a month now. It's a topic of great importance to me and my readers and because it's so consequential, it's been hard to find the right way to spell it all out.

I get a lot of questions about adoption. I get a lot of remarks about the positive impact of my willingness to share my thoughts openly on a blog. And I get a lot of questions about how the two mix. People routinely ask me if either of my children's birth parents read my blog and how I feel about it if they do. I'm 100% certain they do, or someone in the related birth families do read my online musings. As for how I feel about it? Well, that depends on the day. Sometimes I long for privacy and the chance to raise my children without feeling the pressure of a watchful eye... I wonder how my parenting measures up to their opinions of what they might have offered as a parent. And other days I don't mind at all, it makes me happy to know that if they're in a place of need - a need to feel a connection with my family... that's the least I can offer them to repay their sacrifice. The pendulum of emotion sways heavily back and forth, back and forth. And often I argue with myself over which I deserve more, PRIVACY or FREEDOM.

Both are extremely important rights and privileges. Is it possible to have one without the other? They seem to display separate meanings when standing alone, but when wavered over which is more important... how does a person decide?

For now, I've chosen freedom. As a parent and adoptive mom (which is a term I only use for "technical explanatory" purposes... because I'm really just my kids' mom. period) I waived my right to a certain amount of privacy when I signed "The Papers." I knew that one of the only ways to match a birth parents sacrifice is to offer a sacrifice of my own, and that was my willingness to share the life of my new child and surrender my privacy as a mother. At least for a measure of time. If I could have offered more, I would have. But there are few things in this life that are as priceless as human life, and privacy was my most sacred offering. I was happy to do it because I love my children's birth families so much.

So I know what you're thinking, "well then sday, why don't you just quit blogging to regain some privacy?" And that my friends is where God comes in. I am but a tool in His hands, a missionary on His errand and I have been gifted and blessed with the platform of this space. I was blessed by a patriarch with the gift of providing hope, comfort, light and knowledge through the act of writing and language. I received my Patriarchal Blessing before the blogosphere existed and I wondered for so long what those blessings stood for.  And here we are in 2013 and there's so much distortion in the online world. The world of pintrest and facebook, which glorify and promote the portrayal of perfectionism. Finding Sday is a space of reality. I like translucency, I want to share the truth and offer the authenticity that's so hard to find in this modern world. I strive to write without bias, and without sounding egotistical...  I've been able to help people through my openness and writing. Comments, emails, phone calls, notes people have sent telling me that I've somehow helped them along the way... that's my freedom. That's worth the sacrifice of privacy.

I've debated quitting this blog so many times, to feel a sliver of seclusion from the judgments that certain readers might pass .... or by any of the readers for that matter.  But that wouldn't be honest to my spiritual growth, it wouldn't be honest to my Heavenly Father who provided me with a place to help others. Everything I've experienced in my life on earth has been an opportunity for me to grow, and learn... and I would be selling those blessings short by not offering up my findings throughout. So despite who, what or where people are reading my words, I will continue to write without a filter. I write the honesty in my heart without the worry of who might be reading and what judgments they might pass. The hope or laughter I can provide another human spirit is more important than worrying what opinions might be placed upon my best efforts as a parent. I will continue to share my findings and sacrifice my privacy for the right of freedom. Freedom to offer authenticity to others, in a world where it's hard to come by. And I hope you'll enjoy my continued findings.

Pumpkin Patch 2013

On goes the Roctoberfest!

All I wanted for my birthday was a trip to the pumpkin patch down the road from our humble abode. 

We squeezed it in just before dusk.

It lived up to my expectations... and theirs. 

A little bromance in the wheelbarrow

The triple threat. Layla's smile --- to die for. 

Happy Birthday to me. Couldn't have asked for anything more. 

2 YEARS AND 1 MONTH ------- AND 2 YEARS AND 1 MONTH LATER

The fall of 2011, babies were falling from the sky and into my life. 

I was chatting with a friend today when I realized that Rider is the ripe old age of 2 yrs 2 months. An entire month older than Layla was when we welcomed her first little brother into the family. Say whaaaaaa!? How on this green, round Earth did I do it? Not only did I have a newborn and a freshly turned 2 year old... I was 6 months pregnant and packing my entire life into boxes to move away from my favorite house on the planet.  Again, say whaaaa!?

Layla on our last "date" together before her brother bears came crashing into her life. 2 years old and no idea what was about to hit us. 

Man Rider is cute right now, he's also a complete handful. He's a peach compared to his little brother, but he's still a baby/toddler who is in the depths of a serious learning stage. I look back at the summer/fall of 2011 and I realize I must have been surrounded by angels. Angels both mortal and immortal carried me through the most exciting and trying time of my life. It's only now, two entire years later that I've had time to reflect on that season of my life. I look back with a little bit of sadness and nostalgia for that priceless autumn season of 2011.  If I remember correctly,  I only gave myself seven whole days to enjoy my freshly birthed new son, before I jumped into packing up my life and relocating in my parents basement. It wasn't by choice, our house sold the day before Rider was born. It was inspected the day we brought him home, and we had vacate three weeks later. I was carried by the saints around me and I don't think I even had a moment to thank them. The women who helped me pack (when I let them... because I'm such a control freak), the people who entertained my 2 year old so I could catch a nap with my newborn son (who would kick his brother on the other side of my pregnant belly), the angels that meticulously scrubbed my entire house and unloaded my fridge on the day of the move (I somehow forgot to pack an entire drawer of my house as well as the fridge - pregnancy brain I guess)... the list goes on.

If you look close enough, you'll spy a darling little lump of fresh baby in the swing... patiently waiting for his life to settle down.

Two years ago my world was rocked beyond measure. Huge, life altering MIRACLES were happening. Babies were literally falling from the sky and I had no place to put them. I was caring for a newborn who was displaying scary neurological seizures,  an unruly 2 year old, a 6 month pregnant belly, moving, preparing for another newborn, adjusting to living with my parents at age 30, new car, new jobs, being audited by the IRS for Layla's adoption tax return, and trying to adjust to life without my best friends living right across the street. And I don't think I had a meltdown even once!

I can sit here in my bed and tap away on this keyboard while honestly saying - there is only one way I survived that season of life... the Lord and His angels were round about me. And I'm here two years later to finally say THANK YOU. It's gratitude that should have been expressed much sooner than now, but here I am... feet on the ground again, finally recovered from the experiences and it's always better late than never to give thanks.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected the miracles that were placed in my life, nor would I have expected to need as much help surviving these past two years... but I am the most blessed woman in the world and I need to slow down and remind myself to allow more time to indulge in my gifts... before two years pass and I look back with regrets. 

Our happy little family of two children, it lasted a short 4 1/2 months

THE LOST YEAR

Once upon a time...

Last week,

I was laying in bed being sad that I was about to turn 33. 

It felt old.

Then after stretching my last few functioning brain cells to do the math,

I realized I thought I was 32 all year and I really wasn't.

I've been 31 all year. 

I lost a year. 

Well, at least I'm not 33 yet. 

So today is my birthday and I'm enjoying the simple moments.

Baths 

Naps

Lunch with my family

The smiles on my children's faces

Pumpkin patch's

etc....

So as a gift to me, watch this...

then try your best to focus on the simple moments and chose to make them worth while.

Also, I plan to take my body for a run tonight. 

To thank it for being the vessel of my spirit for 32 whole years.

Amazing strength it must have to house this unruly spirit of mine. 

WAIVER

Picture courtesy of CottonSoxPhotography
Layla signing her waiver to race

You know how you have to sign a waiver for practically every thing these days, because nobody wants to take responsibility for anything anymore? Ya, well, my kids should have signed a waiver before being thrust down from the pearly gates of heaven into my incapable arms. Especially since becoming a mother, I find myself in those "what was I thinking!?" situations all too often. I'm fairly certain at this point that my children will look back and wonder how they survived their mother. I already have a head full of insecurities as a mother and it's stories like this that cater to my self doubt. 

Rocktober brings on my favorite cycling season of all time, Cyclocross. We geared up and excitedly drove to Fort Buenaventura for Kday's first race of the season. It's a pretty breathtaking little park with a pond, tee-pees, swings, walking trails, and a park. A park with a REALLY tall slide. My lapse in judgement came when my thrill seeking little one year old son who defies any sense of safety awareness, asked to go on the big slide. My 4 year old daughter still won't go down a baby slide at the park mind you... So I obliged and helped his square stocky little body climb up the 13 metal stairs. He plopped his soggy diaper on the top level and prepared to let gravity create the thrill of a lifetime. I hurriedly ran down the stairs and to the bottom of the slide while reminding him to "wait for mommy to catch you!" Just as I approached the landing zone the world turned to slow motion... I watched as my little boy struggled to maneuver his feet to point down the slide. This created the weight shift necessary for one sweet little 20 month old to fall backward and tumble head first down the top two stairs. I screamed with all the gusto I had as I lunged and reached for my baby. The slow motion fall continued as he tumbled between the railing and he was in free-fall, it felt like forever as I watched his body nearing the hard ground below. I couldn't get there. Just a half a step separated us by the time he landed on his little bulbous belly. What in the world was I thinking leaving my little baby up there alone? I scooped him up and cradled his little screaming body and thanked the Lord that he didn't break his neck. Freak accidents happen. And this one should have been avoided by more thoughtfulness on my part. I inspected ever inch of his body, no blood, no swelling, neuro checks for concussion were normal. He cried for a few minutes and a few hours later he asked to go on the big slide again. Only this time, we opted for the swings instead. 

I. felt. aweful. I've laid in bed since and each night I can still see the picture re-playing in my mind. I know much worse has happened to children but I just felt so thoughtless as a mother. I try not to be over protective, and in certain instances I am and I just won't budge. Car seats for instance, but I also try to let my kids experience freedom, life and learning opportunities. So even though Layla was the one to sign the waiver to race her little bike around the grass course... Owen was the one who should have been asking for liability with is mother! 

We salvaged the day with a prayer of gratitude to the Lord for sparing any injuries to my Owee bear. Kday raced, Layla rocked the barriers at the Strider race, and the boys enjoyed being boys. 

Proud dad and Grandpa-Pockie cheering Layla on

She knows how to represent on the podium

What boy doesn't like a little recline action during a nap?

Post nap- Post fall and happy as long food and adventure are available.

This bear likes to take it easy and is often happier when left alone.

I dread the day these boys out grow the baby swing

She kinda loves her helmet. Which is funny because she's the most timid child of the three.
Maybe we'll start a helmet regimen for Owen at parks. 

THE BIG SLIDE - 

I know.... 

"What was I thinking?"

ROCKTOBER 2013

Kday's sister pointed out how perfectly this picture portrayed the kids in this family. Layla: posing and hamming it up as usual. Rider: always looking for a bird and in his own world. Owen: sockless and ready for the next big adventure, looking around for places to discover. And Kashi: perfect, timeless and so patient with his little babies. 

Can I just start out by saying... I'M BACK BABY.  It's been thrown out there before, and I've falsely reported my comeback numerous times. I was trying so darn hard to force myself to feel normal again and lets be honest, it's taken ten times longer than I had expected. This whole unplanned pregnancy, adoption, moving, life changing in every single aspect stuff rocked my world. I was driving down the road the other day and suddenly a switch flipped... all was "normal" in my world again. Finally. After 2.5 years. Wow that's a long time, but that's neither here nor there because.....

IT'S ROCKTOBER!!!!!

It's my birthday month, as well as my all time favorite month of the dozen that are offered each year. Life is just perfect in October, it always has been and it always will be. You can read about past Rocktobers here, here, here, here, and here.

Pumpkin patching, halloween crafts, autumn hikes at snowbasin, skeletons galore, woofums... just a few of the amazing luxuries of the months festivities. Plus weight loss, and work out regimines are in full swing and that will all be documented along side the normal traditions... like carving 100+ pumpkins. Oh, your family doesn't do that every single year? Weird.

MADE FOR IT

Talk about possibly the most monumental Mamma Moment yet! This is like legit motherhood right here, preschool. Real preschool. Last year was awesome, co-op joy school is perfection for a first time mom of a 3 year old. But this year we were ready the real deal. I'm certain the majority of you are scoffing at my unnecessary over thinking, and I'm sure you're right. However, it felt like a colossal decision in my book. Layla is my best buddy, my second pair of hands, my lunch conversationalist, and much much more. Sending away my first baby to be under the influence of another adult, other children and a whole new environment is super scary. I know, paranoid genuine crazy woman here. I'm well aware of my issues :)

The great debate included:

A: Walkable vs a 10 min commute (which with 3 kids in car seats = more like a 45 min commute)

B: Cost. Was the commute worth saving $20 a month?

C: 2 days a week vs. 3 days a week

D: Morning or afternoon. 

 Alas the walkable distance (we're talking like two houses away) just massively outweighed any other variables. And wouldn't you know it, things have worked out perfectly. Morning school has allowed for some rockin fun one-one time with the boys and some niiiiiiiice long naps in the afternoon. Three days a week and Layla still can't get enough. She was MADE for circle time, snack time, crafts, questions of the day, and all other things preschool.  I had to remind her to "get back here and gimme a kiss!" because she could hardly wait to sprint out of my grasp and into big kid reality. 

The boys happily marched their stubby little legs across the neighbors yard and parked their saggy diapers on the curb while waiting for "sissy." The moment Owen saw the preschool door open and kids pouring down the driveway, that little toe-head squeeled "Yay-ya!" and ran to his favorite "sissy" for a squeeze. They missed their bossy big sister and so did I. She chatted for the next hour and half about every detail of school, and then crashed in her little bed... and reverted right back to my first baby while I watched her sleep. 

And life was good. 

HOW I FELL IN LOVE WITH 3 STRANGERS

I don't know if I've blogged about this topic before, and if I have and you actually remember the post - then props to you for having your shwag together more than I do. I'm all jacked up on adoptive mom emotions right now, and have been for the past few weeks. Different events have stirred my emotions as an adoptive mom as of late. Some awesome events, some hard. Either way, it seems that just when I start feeling like a "normal" mom, for whatever reason the universe has a tendency to strike me with a situation that reminds me that I'm "a mom with strings attached." But that's a whole other load of posts to be written. Some day. But today I came across a blog about open adoption and the writer posed the question, "I wonder if I would love a biological child as much as I love my children (who were adopted)" I wanted to write this post for ANYONE OUT IN THE WORLD who might be wondering the same thing. Whether an adoptive mom, adoptee, birth parent, or biological family... here goes:

Every single moment of my pregnancy with Owen was spent worrying about something or other... but mostly I worried that I might love him too much. I wondered things like:
"When I see him for the first time will I know him more intimately than my babies that grew in someone else's uterus?" (frankly speaking)
"Will we have a bond that is just incomparable to that of my adopted children?"
"I'm certain I'll know him since after all, he's been with me every single day for 9 months."
"What if I love him more?"

Guess what the most awesome part of being a mom to a mixed family is?! I can honestly say, there isn't one single more iota of love for Owen than there is for Rider and Layla. The first time I laid eyes on Owen felt just as surprising and new as it had with my first two kids. I remember VIVIDLY each individual moment that I first saw my children and each time I was filled with wonder, curiosity and LOVE for who they were.

July 6, 2009 about 5pm

 California Hospital NICU

August 29, 2011 about 6 am

Utah Hospital delivery room

January 14, 20143 about 4am

Ogden Regional Utah Delivery Room

Owen was as complete of a stranger to me as Layla and Rider had been. I was so pleasantly surprised when I looked at the baby that I had just birthed and there was no "Oh yes, I just know everything about you!" or "Oh yes, you're MY baby!"
What there was - was, ""Wow, look at you! You're here! You made it!" "Oh you're so beautiful! I can't wait to get to know you!" "I hope you know that this moment has forever changed me as a human because I love you so much already and I will spend the rest of my life proving my love for you." And a little, "Huh, so that's what you look like, sound like, smell like, act like?"

All three babies were strangers to me. All three claimed a piece of my heart instantaneously. And all three took some getting to know you time. The first time I nursed Owen, well, he might as well been somebody else's baby. It kinda felt like, "Ok, so Im you'r mom I guess. And I'm going to try this whole nursing thing ok? I hope you're cool with that." And guess what's even better news?! To all you mom's out there who've guilted yourself for years because all the nazi nursers say that breast is best.... I have two babies that I bottle fed and one that I nursed (well, ok, nursed for 10 whole weeks) and I AM BONDED TO THEM ALL THE SAME. Bonding to my children came through being their mother and caretaker day in and day out, not from sitting on a couch with them latched on like a suckling animal in the wild. (side rant. sorry)
All three babies felt like new people that I'd never met before and all three felt perfect the moment I held them.

So although sometimes being an adoptive mom is different than being a natural mom, the difference isn't in how much I love my kids... it's in stupid mortal things like wondering if the lady at the grocery store can tell that my kids don't look like me. We need to let ourselves off the hook with certain "adoptive mom" vs "natural mom" feelings, because in MY heart of hearts... there is no difference. Just life changing, breath taking, immeasurable love for the children I've been gifted with. And the next best part that any parent knows - just in case you did in fact doubt my love in the first place - we parents fall in love with our children over and over and over. The fist time they blow you a kiss, or say mamma, the hundred and tenth time you catch them at the bottom of the slide.... head over heals grubby mom shoes in love. every. stinking. time.

TRUE GRIT

We stuffed the Pilot to the brim and hauled our three little cherubs north-eastward to Signal Mountain Campground, inside Teton National Park. Bear country at it's best, so it only seemed fit to let the brother bears experience their mother land.

There was so. much. dirt. 

SOOOOOO MUCH. 

Dusty, powdery, endless, filthy dirt. 

And the brother bears were in heaven. 

I tried not to let it make me feel short of breath, dizzy, heart in my throat kind of anxious...

all the while the kids were happily turning into dust mongrels.

And somehow I didn't take a single picture to prove of they're filthiness. 

There were dirty binki's

Pre-hike breakfasts

There were amazing views

There was a lot of rock throwing

and amazing memories at the lake

 We took exciting hikes to remote lakes

with monkey's on our backs 

And we caught the smiles to prove it. 

Until next year... when we'll pick a less dusty campsite. Thanks Wyoming for the amazing trip!