Scripture Power

Zhateal posted a cool little video of her family trying to get ready for their nightly scripture reading ritual. It made me laugh because ours are usually the same. Every night before bed we have several rituals that we go through. Near the end of the evening we read scriptures and pray together, then Dad flies the kids airplane style into their beds and I give them lullabies. Some nights it goes smoothly, but most nights its anything but that.
On this occasion, I hear Chancho shouting in a sing-song way, "Scripture power, keeps us safe from sin!" So, I think that we are ready to begin. Instead I get this:

And a ten minutes later, there is still no improvement:


But, in the end, the scriptures are read, the prayers are said, and I'm happy that the kids love playing with their dad so much!
P.S. Although I just posted this tonight, the video was taken several days ago, so we can't blame it on the Halloween excitement or the sugar high. Just a normal evening around here.

Halloween Celebrations

As I'm sure it's been for many of yours, this has been a very exciting week for my kids. We've been counting down the days on several different calendars. Wednesday Deedle and Loumy dressed up as Capt. Hook and Tinkerbell for their preschool party. The Cap'n ditched the wig right away because he thought it was too "ghouly" (aka "girly", not actually "ghoul-like", which would have been appropriate for Halloween).Thursday I joined String Cheese for lunch at her school, then I got her dressed for her Halloween parade and party. We searched a long time to find a costume for her and couldn't come up with anything we both agreed on. I thought all of the costumes we found at the Halloween stors were either too cheap looking, too expensive, or too revealing! ("Mom, look at this one. This nurse costume is cute," she says, holding up the "sexy nurse" outfit for adults.) We finally decided that I would make her a genie costume. She liked it very much and it turned out cute but I probably ended up spending 3 times the amount of money that I would have just buying a costume and lots and lots of work. Oh well. Here she is at school with friends. I let her wear glittery makeup and dangly earrings and she looked about 18 years old. Kind of scary. I don't think I'll let Chancho see these photos yet. He is already way too worried about her growing up and entering the dating scene. I'm glad she'll have cousins like Abe and Connor around to help be her big brothers!

The Trick or Treating

I was relieved that String Cheese didn't have school today because I didn't have to get up early to get her ready. But that relief was short-lived. At about 9am the kids started asking, "When do we get to go trick-or-treating?" It was a long day for all of us. We use a chart for the kids to earn their allowance each week. They start with a clean slate--$2. The chart has their name and the $2 is shown as 8 quarters. When we have problems during the week (ie. a big rule breaker like hitting or using bad words), sometimes a quarter has to be crossed off. Unless its an absolute rule then I usually give the kids a warning (ie. "Deedle, if you keep screaming at me in that angry voice you will lose a quarter.") The kids had done great this week, but the excitement must have become too much (or the sugar???) and more allowance was lost today than the entire week before combined.The evening, though, still turned out great. Chancho made it home early from work and brought us pizza. We had two families worth of cousins come to trick-or-treat with us. The kids were thrilled about that! Chancho took the kids around while I stayed home to pass out candy. We had a cloud cover and it seemed to hold in some warmth. The weather was perfect. I got bored sitting on the porch and wanted more fall sounds so I raked all of the leaves off our grass onto the driveway and sidewalk so that I could hear more crunching. It did start to rain a bit, but not too hard, nor too cold. I ate some Halloween candy. I threw it up. I went in and read a magazine. Then the kids were all back.
After a lot of candy consumption and the cousins had gone home, we put on jammies, brushed teeth, and snuggled on our bed to watch "Its the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." So, we had a fun night, great memories, and I'm really glad the kids are in bed and this holiday is over.

It was a joke...

...sorry, I thought you would all think that was funny, but some of you actually thought that my stomach looks like that. In all actuality I have a nice chubby tire around my middle, I just wasn't brave enough to post like Nancy, so I thought I'd make ya'll laugh. I actually did take this photo of Nancy while she was in the hospital just after giving birth to her 4th. Don't worry for her. She'll bounce back.

Baby Belly

I remember Nancy posting a pic of herself when she was about as pregnant as I am now. I thought she looked so cute and I thought that it was actually good that she was showing because then people didn't just think she was fat, they could really tell she was pregnant. Well, I am not looking pregnant, I'm just looking chubbier and chubbier. Even though my regular pants fit, I've started wearing the new jeans I got from Old Navy that are some kind of new waist that is actually just like an elastic waist instead of a band or big panel or something, simply because they are so comfy. I didn't think I would want to share any photos of my baby belly with the whole blogging world. Nevertheless, I feel it is important to journal these memories and these milestones (past my first trimester now). I gave String Cheese the camera today and told her to not get my face in it, the tummy is embarrassing enough. So, here I am in all my glory:

HAITIAN ROOTS!!!

This is the fourth year that Haitian Roots has been sending kids to school in Haiti. We believe that to effect real change in Haiti's future, we must start with the rising generation. It costs approximately $250/year for a child to attend school in Haiti. The average Haitian household earns about $300/year. Education is absolutely essential to breaking out of a poverty cycle.

Being a part of Haitian Roots brings me so much joy, that at times I just think I will burst. It can easily shatter my heart into a thousand pieces, as well, so I try to focus on the positives so that I can keep going.

Every year we have planned a party for the children in the program so that we can see how they are doing, encourage them, and reignite the passion within ourselves. This is a photo of our first group of children:(Kelly, your Alex is on the front row in the white shirt and white pants)

We have grown little by little and we now have 115 children in the program. This photo makes my heart burn with happiness. Is it just a coincidence that two boys have their hands in prayer position?
Here my friend, Kelly, is looking right at home amongst the kids and some of their parents.While at home and trying to plan the party, somebody came up with the idea of how cool it would be to have a parachute for the kids to play with. Having seen how chaotic and boring our last parties had turned out, I suddenly knew that we absolutely had to have one. But I thought it would be impossible. I nearly wept thinking that the party was destroyed in my mind because I had a vision of the parachute and it wouldn't happen. Silly, I know, but I really wanted one. Ever faithful, Kelly came through and actually BOUGHT one. At first the kids weren't sure what to do, but soon I would glance over and see every inch of the parachute being held by children, children hiding underneath, running it in circles, etc. etc. and they were absolutely delighted. I think it was the hit of the party! Amy, that is your Samenta in the white dress peering in, wondering if she is too lady-like to participate. She decided she wasn't! This party turned out to definitely be the most fun and the least chaotic ever! We had each child wearing one of those paper wristbands and they had to have letters written on them when they had their photo taken or had written their letter to the sponsors. We then were able to bring them up group by group (the wristbands were different colors, pretty good idea, huh?) to get their gifts. This year we finally figured out that they all had to have the same thing. Oh man, do these boys love soccer! Thanks so much to the Russell family , the Soccer Connection, and to other friends for donating. We even had a few extras to give to the men that had escorted us and helped so much in Haiti, as well as for some of the fathers. They seemed nearly as excited as the kids. Later I found out from Isson (who was unable to come on this trip) that a nice soccer ball costs as much as $200 in Haiti!!! The girls received jewelry. My friend, Emily, and her mom and sisters made these super darling necklaces and there was enough for each girl as well as some other items. I wish I had more photos! I ran into one of the girls the next day at church and she was wearing hers. It looked darling! And then Priscilla had organized with her Relief Society (women's church group) to put together bags of school supplies and we had enough for each child! It was awesome!I have still so much more to share. For now, I will just share a couple more pics of individual children. They're still in need of sponsors. *hint hint* :)

Back from Haiti

As any of you who have been following my blog know, I have a major passion (Chancho might call it an obsession) for the children of Haiti. I had the opportunity to visit my dear country last week. I'm sure the next many posts will be dedicated to that short trip because I must save those memories. So, I'm sorry if I bore any of you, but Haiti it is.

This first post is dedicated to the woman who suffered so much and gave me the fruits of it. Vivianne was 16 years old. She had moved from her poverty-stricken home in the countryside in hopes of a better life in the city. Soon after, a war started in Haiti which would soon end in a coup which would cause the country to spiral downward into even more troublesome times than they were already dealing with as the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. As rebel armies marched upon the capital of Haiti, Port au Prince, Vivanne's boyfriend, Jocelyn, was caught in the cross fires and was killed. Vivianne then found out she was pregnant. She had no idea what to do with this unborn child. She was desperate and found herself living in a shack in one of the worst slums in the world. There she gave birth to a boy. She named him Loumisson. As she was starving herself, no milk came for Vivianne to feed the baby. Eight days later they were both on the verge of death. A friend suggest to Vivianne that she might be able to get help from an orphanage--at least maybe her child would live. Vivianne took her tiny, starving son to Guesno Mardy, orphanage director of Foyer de Sion. He said he would do all he could to make sure that Loumisson survived and had a good life. Vivianne came to the orphanage a couple of times until a few weeks later when Guesno told her that a family in America was going to adopt Loumisson. He said the family had two daughters and that they were good and kind people and that Loumisson would always be loved and cared for. Vivianne felt at peace to go on with her struggling life, feeling that she had made the best choice that she could.

I knew virtually nothing about this young woman, the mother of my son, until last summer. I paid a friend of mine in Haiti to track her down and tell her that I would like to meet her, if she was interested. She was, and we spent nearly an entire day together. She was happy to share a lot of details of her life with us and wanted Loumisson to know that she had tried to do her best by him, and that she loves him. I gave her a photo album and she smiled and I saw some of the pain leave her eyes. Vivianne was still having a tough life but things were looking up a little. She had a boyfriend and a new little daughter, Vivianna.I was able to meet Vivianne and Vivianna again this year. We spent time at our hotel and I again gave her a photo album and as much monetary support as I could for them and the new addition to her family--another baby girl (she didn't bring the infant to the hotel this time, just Vivianna). Here is a short video clip of my son's biological sister and mother and a couple of photos:

Another Celebration

One thing that Loumy really loved about turning 4 is that it put him and Deedle on level ground. Somebody would ask, "You had a birthday?" And he would quickly say, "Yes and Deedle is 4 just like me." He enjoyed this immensely for three days. Alas, the party ended for him when Deedle turned 5 today.

It was a very special day for my little princess. It started out very magically. We awoke to snow on the ground. And LOTS of it coming down, too! It continued snowing well into the afternoon. This is one of the earliest snowfalls that I can remember. Fittingly, SC suggested that Jesus made it snow for Deedle's birthday to remind her she is special, and to make up for the fact that she was only having family at her birthday party and no friends. :) After church we helped the kids into their winter clothes (Loumy needs new everything, he has grown SO much since last spring!) and they had a great time playing outside until we called them in for lunch and hot chocolate.

I think I will do another little walk down memory lane for Deedle.

12 October 2003...One year...
Two years...Three years...
Four years...Five years...here she is out in the snow...blowing out her candle (she wanted just the one)...enjoying the cake...checking out a gift...and standing next to the "pin the crown on the princess game" which String Cheese created for us to play.Princess Deedle, I am so in love with you. You are certainly a spitfire and know how to rile your siblings up. But you have a love and a kindness about you that shines through. I love it when we snuggle during naptime and you hold my hand (or just a finger) until you fall asleep. You are our little brainchild--your preschool teachers say you're "too smart for your own good," (whatever that means). You can get upset easily, but you calm down quickly, too. You are hilarious! You constantly have me and Dad laughing. There is something about you that heals me. Especially when my emotions are unstable, I can hold your heart to mine and there is some kind of real communion that takes place and literally helps to heal me. I am so blessed to have you in my life!

Loumy is FOUR!

On Thursday, Loumy completed his fourth year of life on this Earth. I missed his entrance into this world and most of his first nine months. I don't ever want to miss any more!!! Hm...that just made me think about when he serves a mission or goes to college in another town or gets married or...oh no! But I don't plan on letting him ever get as far away as when he was in an orphanage in Haiti!

Anyway, here he is:

One...

Two...

Three...

Four......very sadly I must tell you that I have been borrowing my sister's camera and when I tried to download the photos from Loumy's birthday today, I couldn't do it without some special software that I need to go get from her. Argh. But here are a couple of cute photos from the last little while that I took with my other camera. Here he is being silly, trying out Lyle Dabb's pumpkin head, and getting bounced by daddy. Too bad you can't hear the giggling from the photo. I ran out with the video camera, but it was dead, so I only got to snap a few photos.

A few things of note about Loumy:
* He is the most generous child I've ever met. Along with that, he is a peacemaker. His love and need for food has now transfered into such a kindness and understanding that food and good treats are nice things to share to make people happy. He will often give up a toy or a favorite color of an item if it will avoid contention with his sisters. He likes to make people happy and will happily share toys with other children. Nearly any time he plays at a friends' house, the parents always praise how good-natured and easy-to-get-along with he is.
* He is extremely sensitive. Emotionally that is. He can crash on his skateboard and bash his head and won't cry. But he often screams hysterically, "Deedle, quit hurting my feelings!" And will sob his little eyes out. He is worried about what others think of him. This can be good but can be bad. Today he told me (after going to WalMart to pick out a present for Deedle), "Some kids were laughing at me because I was buying a girl toy. They thought I was buying it for me, but I was buying it for my sister." I tried to talk to him about the kindness of buying the gift and for not caring what other people thought, even if he was buying a girl toy for himself, which he was not. At soccer today he also told me sadly in the car, "Peoples were laughing at me when I didn't score a goal." People often do laugh around Loumy because he is so cute. He gets lots of stares and wide grins simply because whatever he is doing or saying is very adorable. But he does NOT like to be laughed at. I want him to be sensitive to others and their reactions. I think this teaches compassion. But how do I teach him not to worry about what other people say and to let things slide off his back?
* He is sure that I am pregnant with a boy. He told me that if it is a girl he will "scream" and later, after the girls were harassing him a bit, he got a little violent with what he would do if the baby is a girl. When we were alone I talked to him about babies and how nice they are. I said, "You will still love your new baby, even if its a girl, won't you?" He paused and said, "Well...only if it's a cute one."
* He is very affectionate. He will often walk up to me and just kiss my arm or my head and will smile at me. Or he will just come up for a hug and then go back to playing. I sure love my boy! Happy fourth birthday to you, sweet son!

Wounds without Cause

Who hath woe? Who hath sorrow? Who hath contentions? Who hath babbling? Who hath wounds without cause? Who hath redness of eyes? They that tarry long at the wine; they that go to seek mixed wine. Proverbs 23:29-30

I have always enjoyed that Proverb. I think it is kind of funny and I also have found it to be very true. Especially since working in the court system for 12 years now. It is amazing how nearly every crime I see somehow comes back to the fact that the people involved had been drinking. Obviously the alcohol-related charges are related to alcohol. But also nearly every other dumb thing that somebody has been charged with, other than minor traffic, is brought back to alcohol. I am always amazed. Domestic Violence, Assault, Disturbing the Peace, Trespassing, Theft, Riot, Threats Against Life are a few of the charges that come to mind. Invariably the judges asks, "Had you been drinking?" And I'd say 98% of the time the answer is "Yes."

Luckily I was taught from a very young age that alcohol was not a good thing to consume, nor any other addicting substance. In my home we didn't even drink Coca-Cola nor anything like unto it. And luckily I don't have problems with Assaults or starting riots, either.

But here is a problem. Wounds with out cause. I enjoy soccer and have played for years. So my legs are usually well-bruised and I can assume that any wound on my leg is probably from that. But it could be from running into the dishwasher or accidentally kicking a chair or tripping over something. But other than my legs, I am constantly finding wounds on myself and have no idea where they came from. I think that because I injure myself so often, I just take a quick gasp at the pain and then move on. Yesterday I banged my knee super hard on a door frame. My bedroom door frame. I had turned out the light before getting to the door for some reason and simply misjudged it. After murmuring under my breath and trying really hard not to curse, my senses came back to me and I said to myself, "I need to remember that I hit into the door. So when I see the big bruise tomorrow I will know what it is from."

In addition to these wounds without cause, I have a fear of losing my memory, and the two go hand-in-hand. Before my Hep A was diagnosed (just over 3 years ago), I became so ill that I became dehydrated. But I was home alone with my kids and I couldn't think right so I didn't know I was dehydrated or that I should drink anything. Did you know our brain is 98% water? Anyway, I lost like 2 or 3 weeks worth of my memory. My sister Amy tells me that she came over and asked if my brother John had been by to see me because they were worried about me. I say, "Nope." And she calls John and he says, "Yes, I was there just 2 hours ago." Others took care of my kids, took me doctor appointments, cleaned my house, or did other things that needed to be done. And I don't know who did what or how we survived.

Okay, I have to stop talking about that because its making me sick to my stomach. That was a very scary time for me. Besides the memory loss from the affects of the disease, I then also had to take a lot of drugs that ended up often being mind-altering. Ever since that time, I have a real fear, perhaps a phobia since it starts my heart pounding and my mouth gets dry and my throat starts to constrict, of losing my memory. If it happened then, how do I know that tomorrow I will even remember what happened today? Thank goodness for blogs.

Wow. That got really off track. All I really wanted to say in this post is, "What in the world? Why do I have so many strange bruises and scratches all of the time? Where do they come from?" This one was particularly strange. A dark purple, oval-shaped bruise on my eyelid. This photo was after several days, but it was bigger and darker. The kids and Chancho kept asking, "What happened to your eye?"
All I could do was shrug. And these lovely cuts on my leg that have been trying to heal for well over 3 weeks now (I also heal very slowly)? I have no idea. I can only say that they are more of my "wounds with out cause" and until we get a complete and accurate translation of the Bible with none of its precious parts removed, I will have no idea where these come from because I don't even drink.

These Hands

"These hands are small, I know..." I always sing that Jewel song and then laugh and laugh and laugh. I'm almost 6 feet tall. I do NOT have small hands. We tease in our family about our "man hands" like from Jerry Seinfeld.

Today I was sick most of the morning then by mid-afternoon I started feeling a little better. I dropped the girls off to a little Halloween party hosted by cute cousin Daisy. I had a lot of errands I needed to run but as I drove by the old Albertsons and strip mall that I used to frequent nearly every day as a youth, I saw a new store. FC Nails. I thought, "I think I deserve a pedicure." I'm not sure what I deserve it for. Maybe for resisting a pedicure for so long? I don't know, but I walked in and the place was empty, just waiting for me.

I love and I hate a pedicure.

I love to have my feet massaged. I love to have pretty toes. I love how the little Vietnamese ladies get off every bit of yucky skin.

But I hate a pedicure because I am always a little insecure. Today I figured out the reason why. I might sound mean or offensive. I do not mean to be at all. I have simply found that for some reason every young Vietnamese girl that has ever given me a pedicure speaks to me very bluntly and honestly, usually painfully honestly. Today I was reminded how much I feel like I am naked in front of a little child when I get a pedicure. You know how comments from kids are the most sincere and also can be the most painful sometimes? Like a little child tells you, "You're so pretty." and it makes your day because you know they truly mean it, even if their definition of beauty is not necessarily the same as yours. And also when a child says, "Why are there red bumps all over your face?" You know that they really see how bad your acne looks. Well, this is how exposed I feel in front of my little Vietnamese friends.

Today I sat down and she looked at my toes.
"You want all different color?" she asks with kind of a disgusted look on her face.
"No," I say. "I let my daughters do that the other day. Just this shade here will be fine for all of my toes."

Then, I cringe as her eyes wander over to my hands. Her eyebrows raise. "You want manicure?"

"Uh," I stammer, "No, I don't have time for both today." (I never get a manicure, only a pedicure about once per year)

She keeps one eyebrow cocked and looks at me ubelievingly. She's seeing my hands. "I do them both at same time. Look like you need manicure."

"Oh, um, well," I am ashamed, yet undaunted. "No thanks. I'm okay."

"You sure?"

And I remember back to my first ever pedicure. My mother-in-law took me to a similar salon on the day before my wedding. She paid for me to have a mani/pedi. It was lovely. But much of the same. Including, "Yo' eyebrows? What you want me to do with them?"

"Um, nothing?"

"Ha! You get married! You not have eyebrows like this!"

I glance in the mirror. They look the same as always. "Well, I don't know, do you think they need to be waxed?"

"Oh yes. You not get married like that."

And since then I have always had very well tended brows. I mean, I really thought they were pretty well-tended. I didn't let them grow together or crazy or anything. But apparently to all of the ladies there (yes, she brought them all over), I looked like a cave man.

So, anyway, today I sat and looked at my hands. I looked at her sad face. But I held firm.

"My hands are fine, thanks."

"Okay. What wrong with your hair?"

See why I hate and love a pedicure? Anyway, my feet are all nice and pretty now. And my hands still look like this:

Tag

Wow. I haven't posted for 2 weeks now. Apparently nausea eats up all of my creativity. Some of you have worried for me and the little pinto bean (she is now being upgraded to a Teddy Graham). We are both doing well. I had a bit of a scare right after I posted that I was pregnant, but all is well. Lots of sickness but I will not complain because I am so lucky to be having a baby.

Zhateal tagged me and I'm glad she did because, well, like I said, no posts for two weeks. It is a pretty simple tag. You go to your photo files, go to the fourth file, find the fourth picture and post it. Mine is pretty boring. This is just a photo of my family room after putting in the floors, and painting the walls and the mantle. I like it. My lovely flower arrangements aren't done in this photo.This was the before:So, yes, pretty boring. But I do have a treat for you. I ran across this photo the other day and have been wanting to share it. Deedle was about 14 months. String Cheese had just turned 3. I remember hearing Deedle stirring from her afternoon nap and I told SC she could go in and talk to her until I came. I got distracted doing who knows what because I could hear the girls giggling in the bedroom. I knew that Deedle was safe in her crib and that SC was doing something to entertain her, so I just let them play. But after awhile SC wandered out and I started hearing small yelps from Deedle, so I went in to finally get her out of bed. This is what I found: