Weekend away

Last weekend, three of my sisters, my mom, and I got on airplanes for a very special reason: to surprise my oldest sister for her 40th birthday. The idea was the brainchild of my little sister, and one of her best, I might add. We wanted to take my oldest sister away for the weekend, but owing to her husband's recent ankle surgery (leaving said husband not exactly able to take care of their five children on his own), we decided the party would have to come to her instead.

I was very excited about this weekend for several reasons: the chance to get away by myself, the chance to wear short sleeves in a warmer climate, the chance to hang out in my sister's hot tub, the chance to get away by myself, the chance to read a book in peace, and the chance to get away by myself. I may have been just a bit excited to go somewhere without my children...

See, my four sisters and I don't get together nearly as often as we would like. We haven't all been together in 2 1/2 years. And to play and laugh and talk together was so, so wonderful. We stayed up late, hung out in the hot tub, ate nutella, ate yummy Italian food, got pedicures, and even saw a movie. I hope it was as delightful for the birthday girl as it was for me. Next time, we'll have to take her away for a real getaway. :)

A few things I have learned...

that help make Sundays more bearable.

1. I get ready well before I even attempt to get the little people ready. It works even better if my husband does this as well.

2. I take Advil or Excedrin before church to hopefully curtail the Primary-induced headache. (Although, this backfired last Sunday when I didn't eat very much before church and then took 1 Excedrin. Halfway through sharing time, I thought I was going to vomit.)

3. We arrive at church 20 minutes early. It's a pain, especially because the babies start to lose it right around the time church actually starts, but otherwise we don't have a hope of sitting on the soft benches. And I can't handle church on the hard chairs.

4. I sit at the end of the pew, with my husband as a buffer between me and the older kids. I obviously still have to help take care of the twins, but I find that even having one side of me that isn't sitting next to a small person helps my mental state tremendously.

5. During Primary sharing time, I try to sit as far away as possible from the child in our class who picks her nose, sucks on her fingers, and tries to climb in my lap. Oh, and last Sunday, she took her shoes off and licked the soles. Nice.

Note that I wrote these things help make Sundays more bearable. I almost wrote more enjoyable, but really, that wouldn't be the case. We're surviving, but we're not loving it yet. As my husband said the other day, "4:05 pm on Sunday is the best time of the whole week."

So true.

In heaven

Oh, how little N loves her stuffed doggies, and baby dolls, and stuffed dolphins and lions. She even gets excited when sees a stuffed Harry Potter doll that we have. So when I decided to pose her with a few of her favorites, this little girl was in heaven.

While looking at this photo, I realized that this little girl isn't so much of a baby anymore. Sniff. Sniff.

My son, the artist

In the past few months, H has begun drawing. A lot. After school most days, he comes right into my office, gets a few pieces of paper, and starts drawing. He started by tracing pictures in coloring books and now he's progressed to drawing while looking at the pictures. He will sometimes even hold an action figure in his hand and draw it. I never would have pictured H as an artist, but it's so great to watch him develop his skills. We think he's pretty talented!

Finally

Finally, finally, I have a child who cares about being clean, who seems to share my love of straightening up and making things look neat. And it's the unlikeliest of children—A2.

I realize that these tendencies might not last his entire life (and I definitely hope it doesn't develop into OCD behavior), but it is so precious to watch an 18-month-old toddler clean. When I go downstairs to bring the babies up for lunch, he dutifully follows me around, helping me put away toys and babbling nonstop. When I change his sister's diaper, he'll go get me a clean one. The other day, I set out their pajamas in preparation for my sister-in-law to babysit the kids. A few minutes later, I came out of my bathroom and realized that A2 had been taking the pajamas back to his room and putting them away. If there's a package of wipes on the kitchen table and he can pull one out, he'll start wiping the table clean.

It is so nice to finally have a child who understands what I go through all day.

Don't you wish you could watch TV with these people on your lap?

Project

The other night, I watched the movie Julie & Julia. Besides making me wish that I was more adventurous with my cooking skills (although boning a duck looks frightening), it made me realize that I need a project. Something creative that I can put part of myself into. Something that I can work toward completing. And something more long-term than "fold clean laundry," "feed lunch to yelling babies," or "organize the boys' clothes so their drawers will shut properly."

I have been trying to work out and read the scriptures more regularly, so I can fill up my endorphin and spiritual reservoirs. I've also been working on decorating the house, which looks as good as it does largely due to help from A's cousin, who is the true decorating master. But I've run out of Christmas gift money to use on decorating, so I'm done for now. :)

I mentioned this need for long-term creativity to my husband and he said, "Umm, that's what I've been saying for a long time." The obvious choice is for me to write something (mainly because I lack any other creative skills). A book, an article, a short story—I don't think it would matter. The problem is (and it's the same problem I've had for the last 12 years) is that I write and edit all day long for work. And when work is over, I have trouble mustering more creativity to write anything else. Mostly, when the day is over and I finally have all the kids in bed, all I usually want to do is watch a TV show or read a good book—something that doesn't require any real thought process from me.

I've been thinking about this more and wondering if maybe I should just commit to writing five minutes a day—for me. Then, I can increase that a little at a time, until it's something I look forward to, no matter how tired I am.

Thoughts? Advice? Maybe just a vote of encouragement?