In the words of John Denver...

All my bags are packed,
I'm ready to go...

The laundry is done, the house is somewhat clean, the bags are packed, and I'm getting in one last post... I would say I have been quite productive. I ran some last minute errands to aid me on my 5 hour and 20 min plane ride (actually it's longer than that if you count layovers). If all goes well we should arrive in Utah at about 8:30 p.m tonight (YAY!). Hopefully by the end of plane ride I will manage to keep my sanity, but it's doubtful....very doubtful. So what, you ask, do I bring on the plane with me to keep 3 children ages 5 under quiet and manageable?

Here is the list:

• candy
• candy
• more candy
• band aids (usually the kids only get band aids if they are hurt. So when they get a whole box all to themselves and get to open as many as they want whenever they want they are in heaven. Plus it takes up time with them trying to unwrap them by themselves)
• tons of toys from the dollar store (they open one up every hour or so)
• portable DVD player
• stickers
• magna doodles
• a heavy sedative
• tranquilizers (in case the sedative doesn't work)
• Valium (for me & Nate)

For those of you being left behind; stay strong...for the both of us. For those of you who I'm coming to see; I will be hitting up Cafe rio Monday @ 12:30...meet me there. Pork burrito, enchilada style, black beans, mild sauce, hold the pico, add diced tomatoes, here I come.

Wish me luck! Better yet, wish the people that have to sit next to us on the plane luck.

Will food for work

You're thinking that doesn't sound quite right...and you're right. Just go with it...

So I have started the preparations to go home. Actually, that is a lie. I am doing nothing of the sort. I usually save everything until the last minute...it's a curse.

I have loads and loads...and loads of dirty laundry to do and I lack the desire to do them. You know it's bad when you're getting to the point when the kids ask for clean socks and you walk over to the hamper, pull out an old crumpled pair, unroll them, give 'em a good sniff, and say, "here, wear these, you could get a good 2-3 more wears out of those ones". Then they say, "but Mom I also need a clean shirt" again, reach in the hamper, pull out a shirt shake it out a bit, "Here wear this" , "but mom it's dirty!". I respond with, " Just turn it inside out. It's as good as new".

Honestly, if you lived where I lived you wouldn't want to do laundry either. I have to (while balancing two laundry baskets in my hands) walk out my door, go down 3 flights of stairs, go outside, walk to the other stairwell, open another door, walk down another flight of stairs, balance laundry baskets on my hip while unlocking the laundry room door (not only are they child baring hips but laundry balancing hips as well. Good thing my hips are multi-functional). Finally, I make it to the dark, dank, scary, prime raping spot laundry room.

We have 3 coin operated wash machines and two coin operated dryers. Technically, they really can't be called wash machines or dryers since they don't actually wash or dry anything. In fact, the clothes are probably cleaner before I put them in the wash versus after I take them out. Usually I just pray that whoever used the washers before me didn't wash any fecal contaminated items in it and hope that the bleach does it's job. Another prime reason why I hate to do laundry here is that quite often the water is brown.

Ladies and gentle men, I give you exhibit A:

This would be another time that I pray.This time I pray that the water is brown from unsettled dirt instead the sewage backing up (both viable options). And again I hope that the bleach does its job.

Next we have exhibit B: Meet Paco...

...and his friend Fernando

( I'm not quite sure why the names are of hispanic origins. It was the only thing I could think of off the top of my head)

Yes, Paco and Fernando are dead now (may they rest in peace). I happened upon them almost two weeks ago.

I was doing my laundry as normal, opened up a wash machine to throw some clothes in and noticed a dead beetle at the bottom of the wash (that should have been enough to deter me from doing my laundry). Well since my kids had already worn each pair of socks 3-4 times I decided that the laundry must be done. So like a good faithful housewife and mother I reached into the wash machine to get the bug out. While slowly reaching down I felt a mass of spiderwebs wrapping around my hand. I quickly threw my hand back, wiped off the webs and looked inside for inspection. To my disgust I found Paco just hangin' out in the bottom of the wash machine and as if one spider wasn't enough, I then found his friend Fernando. I quickly closed the lid and pulled myself together (I am scared to death of spiders, especially ones that make their homes in my washing machines). So it's on to the next machine. I open it up look inside and sure enough there was ANOTHER spider. What are the odds of that happening? (actually pretty high considering where I live). So there you have it, spider infested washing machines.

These events (and also the fact that I just hate to do laundry) have caused a dramatic decrease in my desire to do laundry. So if you see my children and they're smelling a little funky have pitty on them. They have no clean clothes to wear.

So if any one, out of the kindness of their heart, wants to offer to do my laundry. I will, in return, make you those stinkin' good, better then lovin' brownies I've told you about. (Hence the "will food for work")

Church & School

Well, I spoke in Church today. I was hoping I could spend the remainder of my time here in hiding and avoid giving a talk, but sadly that was not the case. I think my talk went well. To my knowledge, all of the members of my church who heard my talk still believe the church is true, so that must be a good sign. If you are in any need of spiritual up-liftment please let me know and I can email you my talk.Or for a small fee I am willing to tell it to you over the phone or in person. Just make sure you keep a tissue handy, my talks tend to evoke those types of spiritual emotions.

On to other matters of business...

Kaleb and Abrie started school at this cute little Lutheran school down the street. (There is a whole other story about how that came to pass, but I will save it for another day). The kids absolutely love it. Actually, I probably love it more than the kids. Abrie said to me the other day, "Mom, we pray at school" I was aware of the fact that the kids would be praying at school and I welcomed it. I think it is great that my kids can go to school to learn their ABC's and 123's and still have christian based principles taught. So after she told my about praying my response was, "oh ya,...tell me about it" Abrie: "we fold our hands like this..." she proceeds to clasp her hands in front of her, "and we sing Oh, our Father, Oh, our Father..." to the tune of Where is Thumbkin, "...and Mom, we get to keep our eyes open and everything....Mom, I like praying like that!". Apparently I'll have to see what I can do about spicing up prayer time around our house.

Any way, so since I've already posted pictures of Abrie I decided that Kaleb needs his moment in the spotlight (as if he's not in the spotlight enough as it is). So here you have it, my grown up little boy and his first day of school.

When it's OK to say the "S" word...

Our car got broken into a couple days ago when Nate took the car to school (downtown Philly). They shattered the window and stole our car cell phone charger. Honestly, what were they thinking breaking into a dental students car, let alone a mini-van. First of all, you're not going to find much money (the life of living on loans) and... a minivan? The only thing you're bound to find in our car are stale, month old french fries and old dried out chicken nuggets (we keep Wendy's in business...can't go wrong with the dollar menu). If you ask me I would say our car is not a very prime target. We don't even have a CD player in it. Someone obviously needs a lesson on choosing your robbery targets better. I'm sure there's a class on it some where in down town Philly titled "car theft 101"...don't they have classes like that in the ghetto?

So, Nate called me from school very upset and yelling profanities. I must clarify that when I say Nate was yelling profanities I don't mean the usual "H" , "D", "S", "A" words. NO, for Nate his profanities were, "That STUPID, FREAKIN', IDOIT!" my response was, "wow, Nate you must be really upset to use language like that". To my knowledge Nate has never sworn in his life. I rarely swear myself, the only times I usually swear is when I want to bug Nate (which works like a charm) but even then I only say "D" & "H".

Well my friend Jeri sent me an email that made me laugh. It was titled "When it's OK to say the "S" word". The first picture is my favorite...makes me laugh everytime.

I would also like to add to the list of when it's OK to say the "S" word...

• when rear ending a car in the yielding lane
• when hitting a parked car
• when getting hit by a car while turning left
• when losing a child at the hospital and they are about to call a code pink
• when dropping your child
• when your child has multiple bouts of massive diarrhea on a long road trip (no pun intended)

There are more I could add to the list. This is just all I could think off the top of my head. Please feel free to add your "when it's OK to say the "S" word" to my list. I would like to know when else it's OK to say it.

5 years {and 7 days} ago...(the last installment)

7th grade health class (or was it 8th?) has scarred me for life. I remember sitting in the classroom watching the "Miracle of Life" (don't be fooled by it's innocent title) where it shows the all the developmental stages of a human fetus. I particularly enjoyed watching the 9th month. You could see the baby moving, sucking it's thumb, and kicking. You could hear pleasant laughter amongst my peers as we watched this unborn child playing inside its mothers womb. Then unexpectedly and with out warning the picture on the TV changed. To my horror, and everyone else around me, there displayed for all to see was an extreme close up shot of a little babies crowing head and woman's va-jay-jay. I didn't even know this lady and here she is wide open with her legs in stirrups and her va-jay-jay exposed for all to see. My stomach started to turn and I felt as if I was about to throw-up. I wanted to scratch my eyes out, but what good would that do? The images of what I had just witnessed had been ingrained in my mind FOREVER.

The scene out of that movie (curse you "Miracle of Life"!) kept playing over, and over....and over in my mind. I had now become that lady that I swore I would never be. The lady with my legs in the stirrups and exposed for all to see. It was almost as if my "womanly parts" had now become as common as say...looking at my elbow. Nate was on left leg duty while the nurse was on right leg and the doctor was front and center (poor guy...he has to witness the "Miracle of Life" multiple times a day. If I'm scarred just from seeing it once, think of how messed up he must be). Everyone was in their place and the epidural had finally kicked in, we were good to go.

The nurse, who was watching my contractions on the little monitor, was coaching me on when to push, "OK, here comes a big contraction now push!", "rrrrrrrrggggghhhhhhh...." at this point I should have been thinking about the excitement of having a baby, but instead I was secretly praying that my earlier act of desperation (taking the caster oil) wouldn't take full affect...at least not now, it just wouldn't be good timing. My quiet prayer was quickly interrupted by, "Alright, here comes another good contraction...now push!" I didn't have time to be worried about my bodily functions, I was about to have a baby, "rrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhhh....".

After about 45 minutes of, "hheeee, heeee, hooo's", "hheee, heee, haaa's" and "rrrgggghhhh's" my thoughts from earlier that day had been confirmed. Yep, she definitely didn't want to come out. She probably knew that her odds of survival were better in then they were out. She was hanging on for dear life and I didn't blame her. I was going to give it one final effort before I declared it a total loss, one last push (which is very hard to do when you're numb from the belly button down). I pushed with every last bit of energy that was left in my body and prayed that the doctor wouldn't have to resort to using what I like to call salad tossers (the medically correct terminology would be forceps) to get the baby out. "RRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH....!"

"Here she comes!" the doctor exclaimed. My heart stopped for a moment. Really?...This child that I held inside me for 9 long months, that had actually felt like it became a part of me was on her way out! Out comes her little head, instead of facing down she was facing up and her little eyes popped wide open staring at the world around. Excitement and adrenalin filled my body and with one last push she was out.

The doctor gently placed this sweet new infant in my arms and I was flooded with emotions I never knew existed. My fear of being a Mom was quickly replaced by this new found love I was feeling for this brand new baby girl that was mine....all mine (and Nate's too). I stroked her little baby cheeks and held on to her little wrinkled fingers and just stared at her. I could have stared at her for hours, she was perfect! Everything I had imagined her to be and more. I feeling of deep love wrapped around our new little family as Nate and I held our little angel close. It was the closest to heaven I have ever felt. It was a testament to how much our Heavenly Father loves us and that He trusts US enough to place us with such a great responsibility as to raising this child.

5 years (and 7 days) have passed so quickly and that new little baby is not so little any more. We celebrated Abrie's 5th birthday last Thursday and it's hard to believe that my baby is 5. I always get those sweet old ladies in the grocery stores that would come up to me with face of longing and say, "cherish your little ones, they grow up way too fast". That statement couldn't be more true. I have enjoyed every minute and second that Heavenly Father has blessed me with to be with Abrie. She has given my life more purpose and meaning than it has ever had before. Every pain I had, every tear that I shed was well worth it. I wouldn't of had it any other way.

I am a Mom.... and there's nothing else I would rather be.

5 years {and 5 days} ago... (the saga continues)

"Can't you drive any faster!" all fears of child birth had left my mind and were quickly replaced with trying to control the intense amount of pain my body was experiencing. "Heee, heee, whooo...heee, heee, whooo!" or maybe it was, "heee, heee haaaa....heee, heee, haaaa!" Darnit, why didn't I pay more attention to how they do it in the movies or better yet, take a lamaze class. But in my mind, how in the heck could breathing help the process of child birth be better? There were only two options....breath or not breath. Although option #2 was looking quite tempting, I decided that it would not be the best choice, as I would not be of much help delivering the baby passed out on the floor. So breathing it is, "heee, heee, whooo.." still not helping. Perhaps a combination of both would be better, "heee, heee, whooo, haaaa, haaa..." nope, still nothin'. While all "breathing" attempts to find some relief had failed there was still a glimmer of hope. Off in the not too far distance, shining like a beacon, was the hospital. It was almost as if I heard a choir of angels singing, "hallelujah, hallelujah...hallelujah, hallelujah, haaalleeeeeluugahhhhh!".

We arrived at the hospital a little after 7:30. The lady at the front desk asked, as I'm wincing in pain, "Are you here to have a baby?" nope, I hear you have great hospital food. Just came to check it out with my husband, my camera, and my bag of extra clothes....seriously lady.

By 8:30 I was all hooked up and ready to go (minus the epidural). Modesty had become a thing of the past as nurses were coming in and out checking me to see if my "womanly parts" were progressing. I was only dilated to a 4 and with it being my first time the nurses were taking their sweet time with me not in too much of a hurry, after all it's my first baby, how fast could I go? Well, faster then they were expecting. By 9:30 my whole body was shaking from pain. My life was passing before my eyes, I was a goner for sure. "Nate, tell my Mom and Dad I love them and I'm sorry about the time I held a knife to are maid when I was 4, and I'm sorry for the time they made me sit at the dinner table until I ate my mashed carrots and when they left the room I scraped the plate clean behind the china cabinet to get rid of any evidence of the uneaten food, oh, and I'm also sorry for the time that I wanted to stay home from school, so I played sick and got some eggs and bread, old food from the fridge, mixed it all up and poured it on the floor to pretend like I threw up. Tell them I'm sorry for all of that........."

Where the heck was my epidural? Nate tried helplessly to comfort me, but his attempts were met with, "honey, I love you...but could you just NOT touch me right now!". Finally by 10:30 the anaesthesiologist walks in, "how you doing sweetie?", no reply..."Are you ready for this?" no reply..."Now, I just need you to curl up in a little ball and hold very still. Any sudden movement might make me slip and paralyze you for life and we don't want that to happen now do we...so remember again, hold very still" OK he didn't say the last part but we all know that's what he was probably thinking. After holding still for what seemed like an eternity (and a loud popping sensation) my epidural was complete. I never thought I would be so happy a nearly 4 inch needle placed in my back.

Shortly after receiving my epidural I was checked to see if I had made in progress during the past 2 agonizing hours of pain and suffering. To the nurses surprise I was a 10+ and ready to push...wait a sec. I can't push yet! My epidural hasn't kicked in. This was not how I imagined it to go. Coming from the next room over I hear a loud, uncontrollable, ear piercing scream, "what was that?" I asked the nurse. "Oh, that lady didn't get her epidural because the anesthesiologist was in here with you". Some where deep down I felt a little guilty that I was the lucky one (I'm mean really, really, really, deep down...some where...I think) but for the most part I was thinking better her go natural then me.

The doctor pops into the room, slips on his rubber gloves and gown and enthusiastically says, "Let's have us a baby!". Hey, let's not be too peppy here. It's not as if all I have to do is cough and the baby comes flying out. NO.... you're making this sound way too easy....

I promise I do eventually have the baby. But again, time (and my husband) won't allow me to continue. So,

to be continued... again...

September 28th 2007

I swore when I woke up this morning that it was suppose to be September 17th but when walked passed the calendar I took a look at it only to find that September 17th had come and gone and that it was in fact the 28th of September. Did I some how manage to sleep for two weeks straight (I know I'm tired...but not THAT tired). Or did I accidentally enter some sort of time travel paradox that only I am aware of (suddenly the Twilight Zone theme starts playing in my head...doo, doo, doo, do...doo, doo, doo, doo). If that was the case then why couldn't I have gone back in time when I use to be skinny and the "sisters" were still perky. Either way I knew something wasn't quite right.

Well along came little miss Abrie (she must have sensed my confusion). "Mom whatcha' lookin at?" Me: "I'm trying to figure out what happened to the calendar...do you have any ideas?" Abrie: "Ya!" excitedly, "I crossed 'em all off...it makes time go faster!". Who knew the key to time travel was so simple and why didn't I think of that sooner.

5 years (and 3 days) ago...

I sat frustrated and nearly in tears thinking to myself that this child that was inside me would never come out...maybe she didn't know how or perhaps she knew what awaited her on the other side, after all, she'd been inside me for 9 long uncomfortable months. That's 9 long months to get acquainted with my hormonal rages. I'd be scared to come out too. She's was probably thinking, that crazy ladies going to be my mom? Well after days, and days....and days of false labor I had given up hope. I was doomed to stay pregnant forever.

My oldest sister Stacy came for a visit in hopes to cheer me up (a hopeless cause). She brought with her a little bottle of caster oil (my saving grace). In an act of desperation I grabbed the bottle, poured myself 2 tablespoons and pounded it back. It slowly slid down my throat leaving the aftertaste as if I had just eaten of box of crayons (not that I've ever done that before...at least that I can recall). And then I just waited...

I was fully aware of what consequences might come from this act of desperation but that was a risk I was willing to take. You reach a certain point in your pregnancy where you are willing to try just about anything....and I mean ANYTHING, to get the baby out. So risking explosive diarrhea in the delivery room was a chance I was willing to take (as long as the baby came out with it).

The time was 6:30 (almost 4 hours exactly after I took the caster oil). I started feeling a massive amount of pressure and cramping every 2-4 min. I thought to myself this better be the real thing or so help me...I didn't want to jump the gun or anything and run straight to the hospital only to get turned away (which had happened to me earlier that week) so I just sat there grimacing in pain. Nate kept trying to get me to go to the hospital, but every attempt was shot down by my stubbornness. I suggested instead of the hospital how about we go meet my family for dinner, food {I have found} can be the solution to almost anything, so off we went. By the time we arrived to meet my family I was nearly in tears with each contraction still determined that I was not going to the hospital until I knew I was in REAL labor. My mom took one look at me (apparently my face resembled that of a cat or dog (which ever you prefer) that had been hit by a car and was begging to be ran over again quickly so that it may be put out of it's misery) she said to me, "Ginnie your my most favorite, beautiful, talented, awesome daughter..." (OK not really, but all of that is true)...what she actually said was, "Ginnie, I think you really are in labor"...me, really...could it be!? You mean that there is really an end to this pregnant life I've come to know?...then that's when the fear set in.

As we sped towards the hospital thoughts raced through my mind every two minutes or so (between contractions). This baby that I have been trying so desperately to get out is actually going to come out...what was I thinking! This was definitely "the grass is greener on the other side" type of situation. How am I physically going to get this little person out of my body (when I say body I'm referring to my...{cough, cough}..you know what...). My womanly parts had better get geared up for what they are about to experience. Besides the thought of pushing a football through a key hole, there was the fact that I was going to be a Mom. Me...a mom? My world was about to be rocked in a major way...

If you have made it this far in the story you are either a great friend, loyal reader, or really, really bored or perhaps it's a combination of all 3. Either way I must keep you waiting on the edge of your seat, what excitement and anticipation you must be feeling. Unfortunately time won't allow for more writing tonight.

To be continued...

For your viewing pleasure. Sorry for the quality, I had to scan it into my computer. And thanks Mom for taking this picture, you were really there for me in my time of need.

Here I am in all my pregnant glory. You know the "cat hit by a car" look...yep,this is it. There I am sporting those sexy bangs again (that's what got me pregnant in the first place). And I'm slightly irritated by the fact that Nate is smiling away while I am dying to be put out of my misery. Sure, I'd be smiling too if I wasn't about to experience the most intense pain I have ever felt in my entire life.

Cheap entertainment...

For those of you who wonder what's there to do around where I live, especially on a humble students budget. Where here is the answer to your burning question...mud...lots of it!

Every time it rains the kids ALWAYS come running up to me, "mom, mom can we please play in the mud..please, please pleeeaaaase!". I pause for a minute,...there is an internal debate that goes on in my head. Do I want to spend the next hour or so listening to "mom, mom, mom, please, mom!" (Me) "NO KIDS", "but mom, mom mom please..." (sometimes I really wish they could remove the word mom from the vocabulary and replace it with dad). Or I could let the kids go play outside and enjoy an hour of peace and quiet, but then know of the massive mess my kids will produce because of this fun act. So the internal debate continues. Finally the decision is made...any mess that is produced from this short but sweet break from the kids being cooped up in the small apartment is well worth it. This is the end result of me saying yes.

this is macie in heaven...

... give her dirt, mud or sand and she will be entertained for hours. Not only does she love to play in it, but she LOVES to eat it as well. By the handfuls might I add.
(You should try changing her diapers after eating all that mud...not fun)
Abrie, she looks sweet and innocent in this picture but she's really not...
...she's making mud balls to throw at Kaleb.
(see that naughty little laugh she's doing...don't be fooled)
Kaleb's also trying to look innocent...he is sooo not. He's actually trying to get me muddy
Hike up those shorts boy (I taught him that)

Again Kaleb, takin' us to the gun show

The doctor will see you now...

I haven't been able to write the past few days since Nate and I have been arm wrestling over who gets to use the computer. He needs to use it to write resumes to dentists while I, on the other hand, have to write about completely pointless and meaningless happenings of my days so that I can fill your life with joy and laughter. Both very worthy causes, Nate finding a job so that he can support my outrageous spending habits (those of you who know me know this is a lie. I will write a blog about how cheap I am another day when I have time to really delve into the art of being cheap...it should be good one.) Now back to worthy causes...and me carrying the responsibility of being in charge of my readers happiness. Think of the wieght I carry on my shoulders. I tried to explain to Nate how much you needed me. For those of you who struggle with depression I know it was your daily ritual to take a Prozac and check my blog. Well I'm sorry I've failed you the past few days but I decided that we can't live on loans forever and Nate should probably find a job.

Now here's a shameless plug,

anybody who knows a dentist out in Utah looking for a hard working, detail oriented, very efficient, strong, sensitive, good looking, chiseled jaw line, nice forearms, sexy smile, perfect teeth, great hair (hey, he was voted best hair in high school, I wouldn't marry just anybody), gives good massages, gimme some of that lova lovin' type of man to hire, well then Nate IS that man. I'm mean honestly, think of what type of business a dentist with those qualifications would bring in. You would get pre-pubescent teen girls all the way to dirty old grandmas (my grandma would be included in that) lining out the door just to see Dr. Nate.

OK enough of that...so yes, we've reached the point in our life where we need to start looking for a job (I say we because although he was the one going to school and earning the degree I was at home struggling through it all with him). I'm still trying to hit him up for living in Salt Lake, but the boy is stubborn and very persistent (add that to the list above). He is thinking like payson or Brigham city. At least it's not Idaho (Amy, Daegan I'm just playin'. If I could, I would totally live there. I'd especially like to live in Driggs, I hear it's a sweet place to live. After all, isn't Idaho the new Zion.)

In the beginning of Nate's dental career he is planning on associating with another Dentist. I was telling Nate they he should open up his own practice. Except it wouldn't be your average dental clinic. Here's the idea;

What two people do you dread going to see the most (especially women)...the dentist (unless it's Dr. Nate) and the gynecologist. Am I right or am I right. Since neither one is really one you'd want to go see why not see them both at the same time and get them over with. It's like killing two birds with one stone. The idea might take a while to catch on but once it does business will be booming. I even thought up a name for his business. Two words, that's it....OPEN WIDE....(think about it for just a minute....)

Nate hasn't quite caught on to the idea yet, but I'm still working on him. Just remember, you heard it here first.