Prison Experience

Imagine with me here for a moment:

A. Being asked to speak at the prison for their Sunday Service....

B. Assigned topic:

Being worthy to enter the temple - no matter the circumstance.

(big sigh) .... a daunting task.

But, I am up for a challenge, especially when it comes to public speaking - I'm the weirdo who enjoys that, especially when it comes to baring my soul about the gospel.

Plus, The Beloved and I were asked to speak together - and he is an amazing speaker plus my favorite person so...

game on.

When I sat down at my computer to find material nothing really felt right. I kept going back and forth from one general authority talk to another, pulling out my scriptures hoping to land upon the perfect information for our topic.

Usually, when scoring through the scriptures and other resources the layout easily begins to form in my mind.

Nothing was forming,

except for this recurring thought:

These people need to know they are loved.

They need to be reminded about where they came from, why they're here, and where they're going.

AKA: Plan of Happiness.

But that wasn't really my topic.

So,I ignored it.

I proceeded in preparing my talk to the best of my ability

(which was the problem)

and typed my layout on the computer to be printed off bright and early Sunday morning.

The Beloved was in the middle of finals and was locked in his art room so the time to compare notes never arrived.
Sunday morning I pop out of bed (that's a lie, I never pop)

open my laptop....
 and
NOTHING HAPPENS - THE SCREEN IS BLACK -
EVEN THOUGH THE POWER IS ON.
I have no notes, no references, nothing.
I scramble to write down as much as possible but not a whole lot is formulating.
Some people cry in hard situations - I laugh.
I alternate laughing and praying for the next two hours as I get myself and the children ready for church.
The Beloved and I drop the kiddos off at our ward building where some friends will be taking care of them and continue our destination to the prison.
We are met there by some other LDS couples whose regular church callings are to assist at the prison during Sunday services.
I tell them I have nothing prepared because my computer died but I'm sure something great will happen.
They laugh nervously and look away. :)
The Beloved and I will speak twice, first at the women's prison and then at the men's.
At the beginning of both services I see inmates file in, nobody stands out in particular, just a mass of faded blue uniforms. I try to smile, then end up looking down, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach and the "what did they do to get here?" thoughts that keep surfacing my mind. 
We have found out that a majority of the women attending the service aren't members. So, not only do I NOT have a talk but I have to stray from using "mormon lingo" so they can get a glimpse of what I am trying to share. (whatever that may be)
The service begins and I am introduced as the first speaker.
After the prayer I rise, head to the make-shift pulpit and,
smile.
And once again feel the overwhelming sensation that -
these people are loved.
So very loved.
Heavenly Father desperately wants to live with them again.
But, they must follow the commandments He has given, living clean and repentant lives. Starting now. Please start now.
Hmmm... similar requirements to being worthy to enter the temple, no matter the circumstance.
And my new talk, that the spirit was trying to share with me since preparation day #1, enters my mind.
So, I tell them how incredibly loved they are.
And everyone can feel it.
I remind them of the life we had before we came to Earth. How we knew our time on Earth would be hard but amazingly joyous and would build us into the sons and daughters Heavenly knew we could be.
We knew we would mess us a bit... maybe even a lot  -
but that we could be forgiven, if we repent.
I remind them of our eldest brother, Jesus Christ, who sacrificed his life for everyone; providing us with a gift - to return to live with our Heavenly Father through repentance and obedience, if we so choose to open it. 
I talk about my life.
How, I've been there - unfortunately, done that.
How I wasn't happy but pretty great a pretending to be so.
And I made a choice.
A humbling choice which led me to my knees and then to scheduling an appt with my bishop.
My repentance process was beginning whether my pride liked it or not.
It was lonely.
My "friends" decided not to be my friends anymore because I had changed too much. They worried I thought I was better than them and could hardly stand my presence.
I was a young single mother attending church all by myself but ironically felt nearly complete for the first time in a long time.
I had found myself.
The Beloved and I call this finding your "me" - a little zen like, but wonderful.
I would look in the mirror and think, here I am.
This is Me.
The "me" I found when I did things HIS way. Following His plan.
When I got my temple recommend I thought,
oh my gracious,
they're really going to let me in :).
And it was delicious.
I spoke about increasing our communication with our Heavenly Father -
how I pray 24/7. No joke.
It may get out of control a bit :).
I use the example of when I would pray constantly for Little C to be sealed in the temple to our family.
How this seemed impossible since his biological father has been telling me no for the last 5 years and his consent HAS to be given.
But, I tried to remain worthy of this blessing and prayed for it continually.
When I found out we would be moving to IL I arranged a meeting with Little C's father to discuss custody arrangements. We were just going to do this between the two of us, not involving the court system, and told him I would be prepared with a few different custody agreements.
As I was sitting at my computer, coming up with different schedules and such I kept having the thought to type up a permission form, agreeing for Little C to be sealed to our family.
Why?
He's said no sooooo many times.
But the thought was constant so I ended up typing something real fast, hurrying to get back to my original task.
The time came for our little meeting and Little C's father would not agree to ANY custody agreements.
 He wanted more time. He needed time to think.
My argument - we don't have anymore time. We are moving in three weeks.
Still nothing... then a thought hits my mind.
I say to him, I will give you one more week if you agree to sign this other paper.
I slide over the form the spirit had been prompting me to make.
He reads it over and laughs.
Then asks, you're serious?
Completely.
After 30 minutes of staring at the paper he signs it.
A week before we move to Illinois Little C is sealed to our family -for time and all eternity.
If I hadn't prayed, been listening (maybe being elbowed) to the spirit, or been worthy at that moment to enter the temple -
we would have missed our opportunity to be sealed.
Wow.
I tell them the best way we can help our children return to live with our Heavenly Father is by our example.
I share the story about our prophet, President Thomas S. Monson, when he was sitting at the front of a congregation during a conference he was attending. He looked over at the members and noticed a young boy looking at him, copying his every move. If President Monson crossed his legs, the little boys crossed his legs. If He rubbed his arm the little boy rubbed his arm... (this story is from my memory, not verbatim, but close)
President Monson started making a game out of it. The boy copying his every move.
The little boy thought this was so cool, he tugged on his dad's arm to show him what the prophet was doing. When the dad looked up, President Monson's attention turned back to the speaker, and with a smile on his face, pretended like nothing had happened. :)
President Monson's point in sharing all of this is that...
our little children are watching
our every move.
Closely.
It is our duty to be good examples to them.
I bore my testimony again about the truthfulness of the gospel.
Because,
it is true -
And sat down and waited for The Beloved to speak.
Since we hadn't compared notes I was amazed to find out that our talks were almost identical.
He also spoke about finding your "me" and how the only way to do this is through Christ.
The Beloved had obviously been more in tune with the spirit while preparing his talk and didn't have to have his computer stop working in order for him to pay attention. Good guy.
Since our talks were very identical he decided to focus on the importance of the atonement.
He shared an amazing analogy he used on his mission of Christ's sacrifice -
An epidemic was spreading across the earth and everyone everywhere was dying. The best scientists in the world were working night and day trying to formulate a serum, desperately trying to come up with the cure for this horrible deadly outbreak.
They start looking at different blood types, DNA that could possibly aid them in this resolution.
They come across one boy who may be able to help.
To save the world - you might say.
The doctors call his father and say, your sons blood contains the cure for this horrible out break. Can we take it?
The Father responds, Sure, of course! How much do you need?
The doctors slowly say,
All of it.
In order for this serum to work, we must take it all.
The Father is shocked and tells them he must think it over.
He presents his son with this massive request and his son softly replies,
Do it.
Take my blood.
So, the son's life is sacrificed and the disease is eliminated. Millions of lives are saved and the world rejoices.
A few weeks later they hold a memorial for this selfless boy who gave up his life to save all others.
The father is preparing for thousands to attend and is anticipating this great event.
The day of the memorial arrives,
but...
 only a handful of people show up.
Everyone seems to have forgotten about this boy who died so they could live.
And the father is heartbroken.

The Beloved goes on to say,
the price has already been paid by our Saviour.
All we have to do is show up.
Live the commandments.
Repent.
Be worthy to enter the temple,
no matter the circumstance.
And we can return to live with our Father in Heaven again.
He loves you.

After the services were over The Beloved and I stopped seeing inmates dressed in faded blue uniforms.
We saw mothers, daughters, sisters.
Fathers, sons, and brothers.

They came up to us afterward and shared stories of their children, how when they get out they're going to be better parents and some even told us how they were planning on taking their families to the temple.
3 women asked if they could be baptized.
We have hope for them.
The spirit in those services was the strongest I have ever felt during a sacrament meeting in my entire life.
It was a testament to me
 that our Heavenly Father truly does love all of us,
no matter the circumstance.
And He desperately desires all of us to return to live with Him again.

Poo or Prison

So, I was bugged today and before I was bugged I was conjuring up a lovely little post in my head to bestow upon you.... but now all the positivity is gone and I want to vomit my minuscule troubles all over this post.

.... I just got done cleaning up poo. Not human poo from diapers -

I so have a handle on that one.

But random, don't know where you came from, probably animal poo strewn in front of my house, sidewalk, and garbage can. 

This tale originates from last Sat when a stinky bucket accompanied with lid was found underneath some fence building materials we were moving off our RV pad in the backyard.

We have lived here for almost two years - this job was a long time coming - and we avoided it as often as possible because it was cluttered with random pieces of wood and fence building materials from a few years back.

But, we (meaning mostly The Beloved :) finally put our work gloves on to conquer this beast....

and there we found the bucket.

Stinky, stinky, bucket.

Left from rental tenants of the past.

It was so smelly that The Beloved did not want to put it in the back of his truck along with all the other debris because if it spilled it would leave a not so pleasant lingering fragrance for time and all eternity.

So, it ended up at the top of the garbage can ready for this Fridays pick up.

Where they spilled it.

Bucket cracked in half,

littering the putrid, chunky liquid all over my street.

(now is an appropriate time to gag a little bit)

It smelled like horse poo but had to be dog feces scooped up and left in a bucket from a long, lllooongggg time ago.

The garbage man was kind enough to inform me of the incident but this was soooo not on my to-do list today.

What do ya do?

Unfortunately you (meaning me) cleans it up.

And then you feel sorry for yourself and go buy a Pepsi and some Taco Bell because YOU ARE SO SICK OF EATING HEALTHY,

cancel the scheduled trip to the zoo because you can't stand the thought of smelling more animal poo,

and then you blog about it -

because it brings you joy and makes you feel vindicated after being victimized by pet owners and their lack of responsibility in the poop and scoop (into the trash receptacle) department.

The End. 

P.S.

When I am over feeling sorry for myself I will gladly share my original post idea re: our spiritual experience at the prison.



Spring Night -

Sunday evening was a beautiful spring night.

The Beloved designed our own little make-shift fire pit, perfect for smores making.

Little C falling over in his chair, due to the fact that I kept telling them to get closer for the picture :)

Ruckus and the Lou-dog

 After smores all the men went camping in the backyard - Me and the baby on the other hand declined. I know, party pooper. All about it in the woods but when I'm just a few feet from my own comfortable bed of love - I had to say no.

 Sorry guys! :)

The beloved and the boys prepping for the backyard camp out.

But look at those little cuties!

Love 'em!

While the boys got comfy in the tent, The Beloved and I sat around the fire for a bit waiting for the coals to burn out. It was such a comfortable evening, just sitting there next to my best pal talking about life, plans for the future, laughing at each others jokes, etc.

I really feel like I have it all. I love my husband, love my kids.

 I'm so very blessed.

Can't Believe He's One!

Happy Birthday!

Our bright eyed baby turned One!

Photo shoot on b-day morn



Getting ready to unwrap presents. Hurray!

 I think Fisher-Price stole a photo of our baby!

The Beloved bought this toy car specifically for the baby because the picture on the back resembled him so much.



Anxiously devouring his b-day brownie

 So, I'm a list maker, like my mom - and now that The Baby is one his brothers want him to also receive a weekend chores list.

Here's The Baby's chore list his brother's came up with

The Baby received sesame street toy cars from Grandma and Grandpa for his b-day, a singing counting ball, toy cars, and clothes from Mom and Dad, a cute outfit and a little teething toy from Buckabu and Papa.

Dear Baby,

You're still a baby in so many ways but toddler-esq in so many others. Oh, be a baby longer - you're growing up too fast for this mother of yours. :( 

You only have two bottom teeth you developed about a month ago but devour anything and everything we put in front of you.

You eat the same portion sizes as your brothers and could probably best them with a few extra portions if we allowed.

You'll howl between bites if we don't get it in their fast enough

Seriously. You're an animal. :)

You share a room with Ruckus and sometimes we hear him making you giggle while you should be sleeping.

You have a smile for EVERYONE but when you're paying attention to something specific your face becomes very focused and intense.

You're not crawling quite yet but the desire is strong. You army crawl and do the inch worm quite amazingly on your back. You can also roll pretty swiftly if you feel the urgency.

You are so very happy when you wake in the mornings and a glorious smile streams across your face when we enter your room. You are always, always on the move and don't like to sit and cuddle too long, unless it's the last hour of church with Daddy when you fall asleep against his chest. Ohhhh... precious. (I'm jealous a bit, not gonna lie) :)

You love music and can really shake it to some Latino songs when we're out eating Mexican food. When I do the dishes throughout the day we turn on our UB40 Pandora station and your little head begins to bob naturally to that sweet reggae beat.

Oh, I'm in love with it.

You're content with the world as long as someone you're familiar with is in the room with you.

You learned Daddy's name first but Mama's wasn't too long coming.  Recently you've picked up on hi and bye and will even compliment it with a wave now and again.

You love to be outside; whether we're on a walk or you're chillen' in your jump-er-roo watching us garden, your eyes explore it all.

You get attention non-stop from your affectionate brothers who think you rule the world.

Because you do!

At least that's what you've convinced us of :) we love you - we are so glad Heavenly Father sent your happy self to our home!

Love,

Mama

Happy Birthday Sweetheart!



Ruckus turns 3!

Happy Birthday!



This year Ruckus wanted a Mater cake for his birthday...

say what...?

Had his heart set on it - talked about it everyday - told family and friends he would get one.

Shoot dog.

So, with prayers being said every 5 minutes, and a little elbow grease -

these hands of mine busted one out.

The Lord is good. :)

We had some family in town for Cousin M's graduation so they were able to jump on in for the festivities.

Ruckus wearing  this cool little b-day card Papa and Buckabu gave him.

 Now introducing who Ruckus' was truly meant to be:

HULK SMASH!

down goes cousin M

and Great Uncle R

Great Aunt C wants in on the action.  Papa's afraid, but Great Uncle R is up for the fight. :)

 ... for the more peaceful part of the party:

Papa pushing Lou and Little C on the swings.

The Beloved manipulating the Bumblebee transformer back into a car.

Ruckus' monster face - that I had to promise to take in order to get the first smiling picture of him featured at the top. :)

For his b-day Ruckus received:

Hulk Smash gloves,  a Sonic shirt, cars, and doctor kit from Mom and Dad -Bumblebee transformer from Brothers  - An extremely cool Pokeman from Grandma and Grandpa - A Batting set and socks from Papa and Buckabu - and a Curious George book from Great Aunt C and Family.

Oh the Ruckster - where to begin my fine little friend,

You are H.I.L.A.R.I.O.U.S, naughty and sweet all wrapped into one.

You are attracted to anything gross - boogers, pooping, peeing, spitting, farting, burping - these things bring you infinite joy in life.

You have quite the vocabulary and people are always surprised to find out how young you are. You are super shy and get anxiety when in large groups of people whom you are unfamiliar with, but once you warm up the party is on.

You love carrying around anything you can put stuff in - backpack, doctor kit, "little people" lunchbox container. You are also in love with your monkey pillow pet and blue blanket. When you go to bed you must have Choc LATE Milllllk (you say this in a deep slow voice to make us laugh) and since you share a room with the Baby and he's usually asleep before you, we help you "sneak" into your bed so as not to wake him up. You'll say, "let's sneak" in a whisper.

Truly adorable.

Your brother's are your pals and you love to be included, but you also aren't going to be pestered into anything you aren't fond of. Which is good and a little disappointing for them.

You are obsessed with the Baby and when I pick him up off the ground you get sad and say,

Put him down,

he's my best friend or

he's my baby.

We're not sure how the Baby feels :)

Just kidding.

He loves you and grabs your head to give you a big hug.

You don't really have an inside voice which can cause complications during church but with your long eyelashes and big eyes - we are quick to forgive.

You are anti-potty training.

When I change your diaper you sing a little song to me,

"No poop, just PEE"

over and over again. :)

You surprise me on how much you truly take in during our "learning times" a couple days a week.

(hopefully a couple days a week)

Sometimes during the activity you don't seem motivated at all to learn but when reviewing the lesson at the end you haven't missed a thing. You try writing your letters over and over again to get them perfectly, which is hard for a toddler, and won't let up until you are satisfied. I'll say, "it looks great buddy" and you'll respond, "no it doesn't, that's not right." Sounding  absolutely devastated.

You are a carnivore and have a sweet tooth that can beat out all the rest.

Your older brothers aren't huge candy eaters but watch out world when the Ruckus comes to town.

Amidst all the pure "BOY-NESS" in you, there's a tenderness and sensitivity that makes you irresistible. You love to give your brothers kisses before you go to bed and if Mommy or Daddy forgets to come in and say we love you, goodnight, you feel a little miffed and shout for us until we appear.

We love you my little sweetheart!

Love,

Mama



A Little Bit of Chaos -

But a-lot-a-bit of FUN!

Pictures from the weekend of Uncle Fultray's arrival:

The boys diggin' My Little Ponies - the girl cousin thinks it's great!
(notice the artwork on the walls... done by The Beloved himself)



Sisters in the FAM

The Ladies

Uncle Fultray being constantly swarmed by adoring nieces and nephews

So tired... after long drive, 5 kids, and.... life

But they woke up for the picture :)

Grandma reading  - precious

Look at those cuties



Adorable. :)

Thanks Grandpa for always playing with the grand kids! They sure love you!

 And all those kids.... all because two people fell in love :)

The Whole Fam Damily

The Ladies - once again.

The Men

All the grand kiddos

Grandma and Grandpa

Mother's Day

Me and My Boys

          I can’t even keep plants alive. That was the thought tunneling around in my head over and over again. Cradling my newborn baby in my arms, preparing to leave the hospital for home, my emotions over feeling inadequate yet overjoyed mulled together in my mind. Are they truly going to let me take this perfect, beautiful, little creature home when I have no idea what I am doing? Nine years down the road and three children later (with no healthy foliage in sight) those feelings of joy/inadequacy are still very present in my mind. Luckily for me, motherhood is finding joy amidst being a delightfully hot-mess. 

When I was growing up I never imagined I'd be a stay-at-home mom. If  I was going to have children I'd maybe have one or two. I wasn't a born nurturer and the idea of being stuck in a home with a bunch of children sounded like a pretty limited future.

Wasn't for me.

Much to my surprise, when I became a mother  - the opposite happened - I found myself. 

I was hired on for the most humbling, joyous, pull your hair out, put on your game face, character building job alive.

A couple weeks ago, while traveling for spring break, we stopped at a small restaurant for a bite and to stretch our legs. I used the restroom quickly and then hurried out to help my family order. My four year-old kept patting my bottom, smiling at me curiously. I finally spoke softly in his ear, “Honey, don’t touch Mama’s bottom”.  He replied, “There’s a napkin on you.” Looking over my shoulder toward my behind I sadly noticed he was right. Somehow I’d latched the toilet paper I had placed on the toilet seat to my pants while pulling them back up. Lovely. My son gave me a funny, understanding smile, recognizing his mother’s mistake. He hugged my leg as I snatched the paper and, as nonchalantly as possible, threw it in the garbage.  If I wasn’t a mother I probably would have taken my time in the restroom. I would have looked twice in the mirror noticing the toilet paper streaming from the waistband of my pants. The last thing I’d be worried about would be helping the four, travel worn children anxiously awaiting their meal. But, I would have missed out on the appropriate, priceless expression streamed across my four-year old boy’s face when he realized exactly why his mother had a “napkin” on her bottom.

Outwardly, this mother of four doesn’t have everything together. My eldest son is consistently five minutes late for school, shoving the remainder of his pop-tart breakfast down his throat while opening the school’s front door. My three year old recently gave up his Binky after desperately holding on to it for years, carrying it with him wherever he went. My 12 month old still wakes up once or twice a night, leaving me without a full night’s rest since who knows when. I look like a mother who is begging for a donation of a parenting book or two.

What people don’t see is during that rushed, five miles over the speed limit trip to school my nine year old has learned to say a prayer for his day and prays for those around him. My three year old had a Binky for so long because he was so adorable with it displayed in his mouth and I grew to love the little lisp leaking out with every word. I could let my twelve month old cry it out but my arms are dying to hold him close and comfort his perfect baby self.

I still can’t keep plants alive, be on time for things, or not attract embarrassing moments etc... and the list goes on and on. But I can be successful at being a mother. I can love my children fiercely and teach them as much as I know, not being ashamed in the areas where I publicly seem to fall short. 

I am a mother. I am a delightfully hot-mess.  

 
The Beloved,

thanks for these wonderful children you help me raise and encourage me to keep having :)

I love you FAMILY!

You are my world.