Mother's Day

I remember well the Mother's Day of 2003, because it was the first Mother's Day that it hurt to not be a mother.  At the ripe old age of 21, I had recently suffered a miscarriage, and I still felt like most days I could barely keep my head above water.  For me, that Mother's Day was like a fresh wave, crashing down on me.

Seven years later, I have three beautiful boys, and I couldn't be more grateful to Heavenly Father for trusting me with them.  I look forward to Adam singing to me in church today.  I love their rough little Mother's Day hugs.  I am truly so blessed.

But I can't help but think about those women who yearn desperately for the title of Mother.  Those who've suffered a recent loss.  Those who are the middle of a great battle with emotion, who (if they are headed off to church today) are flung seemingly to the wolves as beautiful children across the country sing to their mothers.  My dear cousin, who any day now, will lose her first baby to a rare chromosome disorder, for whom we can only pray that her sweet baby will live long enough for her parents to meet her briefly before Heavenly Father calls her back.

It is those women for whom I'll pray today, that they may find strength in their losses, that they may make it through to tomorrow, unscathed by a simple date on the calendar.  I think Valentine's Day without a sweetheart is nothing compared to Mother's Day without a child.

Caution

To the untrained eye, this may just look like standard-issue caution tape, warning passersby away from the freshly poured concrete.

But I know better.

I know that yesterday, when the concrete was poured, there was no such tape.

I know that while I was mowing the front yard, a certain five year old somehow managed to wander precisely 4 steps into the still-gooey sidewalk.

I know that the construction workers could barely contain their laughter when said five year old was required to apologize for ruining their hard work.

I know that I'm really annoyed with myself for not returning, camera in hand, to grab a few quick pictures of the four suspiciously size 11 1/2 sinkholes left behind to prove his guilt.  Nor did I take pictures of his concrete-covered school shoes.  Sigh.  Missed opportunity.

I know that I did manage to drive home the seriousness of the situation by suggesting that if I couldn't get the concrete off, he'd have to use the money he's been saving for a video game to buy himself new school shoes, knowing the whole time that the still-wet concrete would wash right off.

I know that if you look closely, you can see a color difference between the newly poured concrete and the old.

I know that today, after the construction workers poured more concrete, they put up caution tape.

It seems that everyone learned a lesson.

Classic Me

I'm just sitting here messing around on Facebook when I think,

"Oh crap, I put water on to boil for oatmeal and then forgot about it.  I bet it's boiled completely away."

Then I think,

"And when that happened last week, I'm pretty sure it ruined my pan!"

So I hurry out to the kitchen to check on it.  Instead of boiled-away water, I see

And the really scary thing?

Now, I'm just sitting here blogging instead of paying attention to the water that is now boiling above a burner that is actually on.

I wonder how long it's going to take me to successfully make my 5 minute oatmeal.

True to Life

You've heard me mention Life in Moments Photography before since my good friend Jami takes pictures of all the biggest moments in my life.  We were recently in need of pictures for the extended Fife family, and we couldn't wait for warmer, prettier weather, because my brother-in-law, Tony, moved out of state on April 5th. 

So we headed to Wheeler Farm in late March to take some pictures.  The day was sunny, but not exactly warm.  Nobody minded too much except for poor Dylan.  We tried to keep him bundled between pictures, but it was still a little too much for a tiny munchkin to handle.

Jami snapped this shot (since we couldn't get any good ones of my boys), and I'm actually kind of glad it turned out this way.  A really great picture of my boys would have hung on the wall for a year or so until I updated it, then been filed away and forgotten. 

This one, I think I'll always remember:

And just for fun, here's a few other great ones from the shoot.  I'm so glad we went with a color scheme and lots of texture (per Jami's website instructions) instead of matchy-matchy.  Oh, and thanks to the grandkids getting taller, I don't look so ridiculously short amongst the Fife amazons.  :)

2:52 a.m.

In the dead of night, I awake to a screaming baby.  Sadly, this is not atypical.  I drag my drowsy self out of bed and across the hall for what should be a standard "binky replacement" mission.  As I approach the crib, I think to myself that Dylan's screaming is a little more intense than the normal lost-my-binky cry.  Sure enough, as I peer over the edge, I am met with a not-so-standard sight.

Dylan rolls over easily from back to front and front to back.  He rolls several times per night.  But apparently, this time when he tries to roll (presumably back to front), he is too close to the side of the crib.  He is stuck on his side, face pressed to crib bumpers, little legs flailing, trying desperately to complete the roll-over.  He looks like a fly on its back, spinning in fruitless circles.

I laugh.

I pull him to the center of the crib and help him get comfortable. I replace the must-have binky.  I think of him stuck there, flailing helplessly.

I laugh again.

Why is this funny to me? 

I'm going to go with sleep deprivation.

Baby's First Tie

Yeah, I also try to track all the normal milestones, too, but in our little testosterone-heavy family, one of my favorites is "Baby's First Tie." 

I remember well the tradition of Easter dresses and how much I loved to dress up in something pretty on Easter Sunday. 

We've had to tweak that tradition a little (thanks to Burlington Coat Factory for selling such reasonably priced, adorable, and high quality little suits), but here are our boys, all dressed up in their Easter finery.  I don't think I've ever seen so much "handsome" packed into one shot!

What a Week

I spent this past week in Boise, Idaho hanging out with the good people of Starlight Mountain Theatre.  They asked me to come up and be the music director for their spring break production of High School Musical 2 Jr.  Basically this means that on Monday morning, I met 70 kids between the ages of 5 and 18, and in 6 days they learned all the music, choreography, lines, and blocking for the entire show and performed on Saturday night.  Crazy?  Yes.

Even more fun than hanging out with loads of teenagers who share my same passion for musical theater, however, was getting to spend the evenings with my grandparents who live in Boise.  My kids had a great time getting to know "Nana and Papa" (see below for a story about that), and Aunt Tammy.  We packed the week full of fun and then drove back home on Easter morning so we didn't miss any festivities.  Here's our quick week in review.

The kids and some cousins who were in town from Florida all piled on Grandpa's lap.

The cast of High School Musical 2 (approximately 70 kids)

Coloring Easter Eggs with my Aunt Tammy (Tammy is handicapped but lives in an apartment within my grandparents' house with the assistance of around-the-clock nursing staff.)

Spoiled Rotten!  Grandma and Grandpa kept bringing home gifts for the kids.

Happy Easter at the Fife house.  All 10 grandkids!

Our family (minus Dylan) with the Wayts family.  Kirk baptized Tabitha (the mom) when he was on his mission.  They were in town for Conference, and we were able to spend our Easter dinner with them at my parents' house.

And now for the "Nana and Papa" sidenote for anyone still reading...

Almost all of my cousins (I have 40) call Grandma and Grandpa Nelson "Nana" and "Papa."  In my family, we never have.  But since my kids are so blessed to have so many living grandparents, it sometimes gets confusing to keep them all straight.  I thought maybe if we start calling them "Nana" and "Papa" it would give them their own little place in the kids' minds. 

I tried.

I can't do it!

It just feels like baby talk to me.  (I'm guessing this is why in my family we always called them "Grandma" and "Grandpa.")

So "Grandma and Grandpa Nelson" they shall remain.