UNDER THE SEA AND TURNING THREE

A month late is better than never. Buca turned the ripe old age of three this month and her party was slammin. We started the day with some lunch at J0hnny Rockets and a purple ballon was her only request. She helped with planning and carrying out the entire soiree, from the theme, the pinata, the prizes, and the treats... it was all her idea.

Here's a bunch of un-edited pics of the uber fun day.

Layla helped pick out which fish to put hang for the fishing game. 

A little butcher paper and toll paint went a long way for this game. The kids went fishing for a prize over the fence.

 Thanks to Rita for researching how to make sand play-doh

Layla helped assemble each sandcastle kit for her friends, including seashells, a topper flag, and sea life.

All the children attending the party had the chance to take their sandcastle home as a party favor

 Layla picked out the pinata and I dressed it up a little with some extra create paper.

A party wouldn't be complete without a pinata explosion

 Great gifts, treats, friends and family, treats and cake.

We served pirates booty, pretzels (sea anchors), gold fish, gummy fish, gummy sharks, and gummy octopus were among the favorites. Star fish cookies and pacific island punch also tickled our tummies. 

It was a wonderful day.

 Layla picked 3 friends to invite and family was there to remind us how blessed we are to have so many people who love Layla. 

Happy Birthday my girl.

SIZE 2 OR A MUMU?

It's so weird when I look at this photo it's like I don't even recognize myself.  I don't remember being this thin.

Here I am hating my body but LOVING my life.

It seems as though there's a constant battle going on in my mind between polar opposites. I never know which side to listen to, and sometimes it feels like neither side is healthy. I've always been a bit of an extremist, especially in the food department of life. I have a tendency to feel like my only two options of portion size is all or nothing.

In college, when I was playing tennis for SUU, we were being weighed and measured in front of not only the coach and health advisor... but my teammates. I was by far the biggest girl on the team, weighing in at a whopping 140. Oh how I'd give anything to see that number on the scale again. I took every dangerous diet pill on I could get my hands on and if you ask my roommates they'll even tell you that I had a problem with bulimia. I would try so very hard to restrict my eating to only 500 calories for as many days as possible and when I just couldn't take the hunger any longer, I'd clean the cupboards and all the drive through fast food options open at 3 am. And it was always followed with a lot of purging.  It made for a hostile living environment because I was in complete denial and refused to admit to my roommates that I had a problem. Kday eventually gave me an ultimatum once he discovered my little secret. I had to let go of weighing myself 3-4 times a day, to make sure my new number of 132 on the scale wouldn't dare rise (It doesn't seem that skinny, but for my body type - it took starvation to get there and to stay there), Kday said he didn't want to be with someone with those "unhealthy habits."
The problem, in my mind I thought I was actually being healthy for the first time in my life! Sad. So I've always had an inner battle between wanting to just LOVE myself for the person I am and wanting to change to be perfect.

As I've aged I've learned that I really kind of like who I am. Yes I talk too much and I'm annoyingly loud and not very original with my ideas, but I like that I'm sensitive and I think I'm funny, I'm open and I like to have a good time while being clean and organized. The part about me that I've never liked happens to be my outside.

This ongoing battle in my mind tells me "Just love yourself for who you are. Wear cute comfortable clothes and enjoy the food you love!" I LOVE food. I LOVE to eat food, I just don't love being fat. So the opposing voice tells me "You'd be happier if you were skinny. Skinny people are prettier and people like the more. You're life would be perfect if you stop eating and you looked perfect." I'm trying to find the happy medium between accepting and loving myself for who I am, which a person who loves food and laughter or someone who has total control over food and exercise and loves their body. It kind of seems like the conclusion my mind believes is that I can't be happy with both mind and body.... Why does it feel like I have to sacrifice one for the other?

Until I realize that when I lost the 70 lbs a few years ago, I had found a way to keep a balance. That must be the key? Somehow I need to find balance between loving who I am just the way I am, and wanting to better my physical body without sacrificing my happiness.

C.T.R

pre op

Not the religious post you're expecting here. I'm typing left handed so forgive the typo's and short post.
C.T.R- Carpel Tunnel Release and Cubital Tunnel Release surgery is what I had done yesterday.
It's now 5:33 am and I can't sleep. So I sit here and type one handed and think of a million questions that somehow didn't cross my mind when the doctor repeatedly asked me yesterday if I had any questions. My best thinking is done at night and here are my questions:

1. How soon can I pick up and carry my babies?
2. Did you cut the Palmar Carpel Ligament or just the Transverse Carpel Ligament?
3. Does the ligament eventually heal itself in an elongated way to create a new tunnel?
4. Is this surgery going to affect my wrist strength and stability in the future, especially if I decide to play competitive tennis again? (A question I totally should have asked Pre-Op... duh)
5. When do I start scar massage and my post op Occupational Therapy rehab that I plan to perform myself?
6. When can I start typing with two hands cuz this takes forever and make me feel like I have carpel tunnel syndrome in my left hand from all this left handed typing.?

p.s... there were some wicked awesome graphic pictures of carpel tunnel surgery online, but i decided to spare you and post an anatomical illustration. You're welcome ;)

post op hottness

3.U.3

1

We've graduated! We're no longer in the three under three category of children! It's kind of a big deal.

CURSING AND CRYING

Sometimes people ask me how I do it. Sometimes I wonder what they're talking about, other times I know EXACTLY what they're talking about.
As of late, there's been a lot of cursing and crying. A lot of both at the same time. And a little crying because I feel guilty for cursing. Or a little cursing because I'm crying - again.
I usually smile and say how much I enjoy my situation - which is TOTAL HONESTY. However, there's a lot of moments in the day when I struggle to feel like my head is above water and I'm so tired of treading water I wonder if I should just strip everyone down into diapers, sit on the couch watching cartoons and shove cheese puffs and propped bottles into their mouths while I take a nap. I'll deal with the mess later.

My situation is rare and difficult to relate to other people because of its abnormality. As the boys grow up their age difference will continue to be less of a factor. But right now, there's still a pretty big gap between a 6 month old and a 10 month old. And it's hard. It's GLORIOUS and REWARDING and everything I ever wanted... but I've got to swallow my pride and admit that I sometimes totally suck at this job and it's a really hard job.

That's where PRIDE comes into play... why did I EVER think that I could handle this all on my own? How could I have assumed Heavenly Father just totally trusted me to independently handle these three kids so close in age? Because I'm an idiot, that's why. I've found humility and my contrite spirit is getting the best of me as I'm learning that my Father in Heaven didn't just dump these spirits in my hands and walk away. He is begging me to humble myself enough to ask for a little help. So I am. I've asked him for more patience, less obsessiveness about a tidy home, less concern over whether I am prepared at every moment of every day, and most of all... I've asked him to PLEASE help me figure out my Ohwee's sleep needs. Sounds really lame and so Molly Mo... but I'm admitting it right here and now, I can't go on without asking for a little more of his help. And I am 100% certain he'll be there to grant me the patience, help me relax, enjoy the moment for all it's imperfections, and most of all be calm  in my role. That's a biggie. I need to calm the freak down. Thanks for answering my prayers, today was a whole new day. Not a perfect day - and not completely free of cursing and crying... and sweating! What is that? I run all over tarnation all day and I just drip in sweat... but however it happens, we're getting there. And the answer is... I don't know. I just do my best and hope it's good enough.

I CALL HER - MY BUCA BIRD

Layla is fire and ice. Oh how I love my girl and I love that she's my only girl. Layla came to this family to teach me that I am a mom. The term "baptism by fire" - That was my Buca's tactic to get me into the motherhood sorority. I didn't trust that I really deserved to be a mom and after taking stock in the comments of "do you think she knows you're not her real mom?"... my confidence was failing miserably. Layla came into this life like a lion and until we figured out the cause of her colic, I questioned every single moment of my capabilities as her mother. 

Then, one day we went to the temple together, and everything changed. We became one eternal family circle. We became blood, we came to an understanding, and we both relaxed into our roles and we let each other in. 

Layla is strong, determined and just as emotional as her mother. I love her for those things and I know that if I channel her determination and strong will the right way... she'll accomplish exactly what she puts her mind to. Lets hope I can teach her to put her mind to good things. Layla lives with zeal yet her timidness overpowers her zeal when it comes to swimming, speed, and food. She's content to sit at the side of the pool and be waited on hand and foot, she prefers to mosey along at a snails pace on her bike, and if it's not toast with honey for breakfast... don't even try. 

I love my little bull headed Buca Bird. She is just as sweet as she is stubborn and her instinctive desire to nurture is obvious as we lay in bed together at night and she tickles my face and strokes my hair. She loves to hear "her story" and she knows it by heart now. She delights in being helpful and her soul lights up when I tell her I'm proud of her good choices. Buca absolutely falls apart without structure and boundaries... as does yours truly.  We both learned to trust each other and we have a secret little understanding the is unexplainable. 

FREEDOM

I'll be back with a post about my Buca Bird on Thursday....

For now I must say I'll be crying at the parade tomorrow, the minute the jets fly over and the veterans drive by waving their wrinkled little hands and donning their war caps. I just can't contain the emotion that overwhelms me when I see them and I wish I could hug them and tell them thank you. Thank you, because of you I have the freedom to bring my family to a parade and enjoy making my own decisions every day. I love this holiday, it reminds me of how blessed I am to live in a country where I can worship the God I love and raise my children according to my own beliefs. We as Americans don't know how lucky we are.
So I'll see you tomorrow at the parade, and the BBQ and the fireworks... with my glasses on so you won't see my tear filled eyes as I reflect on my beautiful, healthy family, whom I love so much.