Halloween

We had two princesses on Halloween this year. I had planned on having Sami wear Allie's cow costume, but she wanted to wear the snow princess dress my mom had gotten Allie last Christmas. I got them all dressed up after their afternoon nap, and then took them to a few houses to "trick-or-treat" while waiting for Kev to get home. Then we headed over to the trunk-or-treat at the church. Kev and I wore his parents' old clothes from the 70s, and we had to tell people that, yes, these were actually real clothes the his parents really wore. To decorate our trunk, I wrapped Allie's beach ball in aluminum foil and hung it in the back, and had Jackson 5 blasting from the car stereo. We had a good time... and the girls got loaded with candy. Ugh.

In the Past Month

If Kevin has anymore weekend-long Scout training in the future, I'm going to pull my hair out. At this point, thankfully, it seems like he actually might be done with training, unless he wants to do the super hard-core training, which he doesn't. He had to be gone the weekend of General Conference for the second half of Wood Badge training. And please don't ask me what Wood Badge is, 'cause I really have no idea. I do know that over the two weekends, they launched some rocket-type things, Kev sang in a quartet, and they had to give presentations. Oh yeah, and they did have to make goals for their Scout troops to accomplish over a certain period of time. I'm sure they did other things, but I don't know what, or maybe I just don't remember. At least, I hope they did other things. Otherwise, what the heck were they doing for six days? Kev does have an assistant Scoutmaster now, though, which the both of us are thankful for. Hopefully, Kev won't have to ask to have anymore camp outs here so he can have a second adult around. Not that that's kosher either, but it's better than him being by himself.

Just last weekend, Kev and Sean took the Scouts camping on a small island in the Indian River. They borrowed someone's motorboat from the 2nd ward to get across. He said after getting over to the island, they played in the water for a while, but then after coming back on the beach and putting his shirt on, he felt little bites all over him. He came home the next with about 300 bites all over his arms and legs. Literally 300. He had put on some insect repellent from the Scout closet at the church, but I'm wondering how old it was, and if it's age had caused it to lose effectiveness. He said he grossed some people out at the work the next Monday. At least something good came out of the situation.

Allie and I made a whirlwind three-day trip to Utah on the 17th. Sarah and Jeremiah got married in the Salt Lake temple, and there was no way I was missing that. I had planned on just making the trip by myself, but then after deciding I'd stay with Kev's sister Erika and her family, I thought the kids would be awfully disappointed if I didn't bring at least one kid with me. So, I settled on Allie, since, surprisingly, she is actually much easier to fly with than little Sam. Allie can carry her own backpack, use the restroom, walk long distances without the need of a stroller, and pretty much just keep herself entertained for hours on end. Sami, on the other hand, is still a baby in that she needs a stroller in large, chaotic places, she can't sit still, and she needs to be entertained. I could have brought her, too, and flown her for free as a lap child, but there was no way I was doing that on my own. I wanted to actually enjoy the trip. And we did! We got to spend an hour with Sarah after arriving in Salt Lake, then drove down to Spanish Fork to see Steve and Erika and the kids. The wedding was the next day, so Allie stayed with Erika and Bri and Nate while I went to the temple by myself. I parked in a lot that cost five bucks to park in, but they didn't have an attendant-- it was an on-your-honor thing, where you had to put your money in a slot whose number coordinated with your stall number. I only had a twenty, panicked, and asked a lady who was a row down from me herding three or four kids and a baby if she had change for a twenty. She said she didn't, but that she had a five. I told her she didn't have to pay for my parking, but she said it was no big deal. I tried to see if she needed any help, but she insisted she didn't and started trekking it up to, I'm guessing, the Joseph Smith Memorial Building for a wedding she said she had to get to. She had kids walking with her, was pushing a stroller and carrying a baby carrier, had to walk somewhat uphill, AND she was faster than me. Talk about hard core!

As I crossed the street to get to Temple Square, a homeless woman, probably not all that much older than me, bundled in a weathered tan coat, tears filling her eyes, stopped me asking if I had any spare change. Normally I don't have any cash with me... but I realized I did have that twenty. I was reminded of that kind young mother that had just helped me out, giving me her five dollars without a thought, and was prompted to "pass it on." I hesitated slightly,remembering I had brought that twenty for emergency purposes and for any cases where I could only use cash, but relying on good faith, I opened up my purse, pulled out the twenty and put it in her hand telling her, "You know, here you go. Someone just helped me out." Then she kindly directed me to the entrance of the temple since I couldn't seem to remember where it was.

The temple was busy as usual, with large groups of people in the lobby in their Sunday best obviously having just attended various other sealings of the day. My old roomie Carrie was there in the sealing room-- neither one of us expecting to see the other. What a sacred place, the temple. That is one place where one really gains an understanding of reverence. All the verbal praising in the world cannot replace the Spirit felt there-- a place where you can feel the weight of the world literally being removed from your shoulders. Sarah looked beautiful, of course, and the love of friends, family, and the Lord evident in that breathtaking room was almost indescribable-- kind of like coming home. I felt honored to have been invited to witness that beautiful event.

In walking back to my car, I ran into another homeless woman with blond scraggly hair and a few missing teeth, but a sweet smile nonetheless. I did have about fifty cents left in my wallet, other than a bunch of pennies, so I gave that to her. We talked for a few minutes about the weather, and I indicated I wasn't used to the crisp air anymore since I've moved to Florida. She told me she was from Ohio. We said goodbyes and I continued to walk when I ran into that same homeless woman from the first time. She didn't recognize me and asked me for change again. I put my hand on her shoulder and said, "Hon, I actually already gave you some earlier." Her eyes widened and filled with tears, then she put her hand over them embarrassed saying, "Oh, you did! I'm so sorry. I try really hard to remember the faces of those that give me money, so I don't ask the same people over and over and look stupid." I put my arm around her, reassuring her that I didn't think she was stupid, and that it would be difficult for anybody. She continued to cry for a bit, while I kept my arm around her comforting her. It was an interesting experience, one I had never really had before. But I was reminded of my mother. I knew that had she been in the same situation, she would have done the same thing... and she has done the same exact thing many times before. I finally caught a glimpse of the way my mother loves and feels for every single person she meets, no matter who they are or what their circumstance is. In turn, I caught a glimpse of the way each person is loved and valued by the Lord. I felt that love-- the love for those women, and the love the Lord has for me. It was a pivotal experience that I cannot forget.

Later that evening I drove to the reception at Thanksgiving Point. Jessie, my niece, came with me, and we sat with Sarah's siblings and Carrie most of the evening. Jessie, who's eleven, caught the bouquet, which I knew would give Steve a heart attack.

The next day Allie and I flew home-- a long, tiring flight. Allie was fine to fly, then excited to see our green car in the Orlando parking lot, but pretty darn upset when she wanted to drive to see her cousins. "But I wanna see my cousins! I wanna see Bri!" Maybe someday we'll live a bit closer to some of her cousins. My little social butterfly.

Oh, I almost forgot! Last weekend was our Relief Society craft day, and (get this!), I was asked to teach (are you ready?) a class on sewing aprons. Yup. I taught a sewing class. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha (deep breath) ha ha ha ha! I can't say I was a great teacher, but the aprons actually weren't as hard as I thought they would be, and I did have a few people leave the class with completed aprons, which is always a good sign. I could have turned down the request to teach it, but I accepted it, merely to stretch my comfort zone.

I think everyone could use a good stretch now and then.

Laughing to Myself

Last night after putting my book down in anticipation of finally going to bed, an image of Allie popped into my head. I smiled and chuckled to myself as I saw this very vivid mental picture.

After getting off the plane Friday, I realized how late it was and that we hadn't eaten lunch earlier that day. Now it was past dinnertime. It would take just over an hour to drive home once we finally reached our car, and rather than letting Allie fall asleep, just to rouse her at home to feed her, I gave in and searched out the most convenient fast food place on the way to baggage claim. It happened to be McDonald's-- not my favorite, but tolerable. I got Allie a Happy Meal, as well as food for me, and we waited around till they had it ready. As soon as I could grab it, I did, holding my own food and drink and giving Allie hers to hold. I told Allie to hurry and stay with me, since we needed to catch the tram to get to baggage claim. And I started speed walking to the tram, hoping the doors wouldn't shut just as we approached. Of course, Allie wasn't next to me, so I stopped to give her time to catch up. I turned around.

Allie in her light blue gigantic Disney Princess backpack was walking as quickly and carefully as she could with one hand keeping her drink steady, and the other hand clutching her bag of food. She kept her eyes on her orange drink, obviously concerned about spilling it. Her little three-year-old legs moved quickly, for her, as she calmly called out, "Wait, Mama."

I don't know why the image so suddenly entered my mind last night, but I'm sure glad it did. It gave me a smile.

Homecoming Article

Last Friday while Allie and I were in the Orlando airport getting ready to come home, I called Kevin to let him know we had landed. After a few minutes he said, "Have you checked your email today?"

"No. I did last night, but not today. Why?"

"You're in the paper-- front page of the Life section."

A few weeks ago, in looking through Florida Today, I noticed a small note in the Life section calling for past homecoming queens to make themselves known for a future article. I was hesitant at first (people teasing me mercilessly, people thinking I was still hung up on it, etc.), but then I realized it would be a good time to reflect upon it and write a little about it, since I couldn't remember if I ever had recorded that event at all. I did as it asked, writing a few paragraphs on it, and scanning and emailing a few pictures.

A week later, the reporter called me back while I wasn't home. She left a message asking me to call her back so she could ask me a few questions. I forgot to call her back, though. I was getting ready to fly out to Utah with Allie and I really didn't have time to that at the moment. We never did talk to each other, so I didn't think much about it. I figured, too, that if anything got printed, it would be in the middle of the paper would no one would see it. Ha.

So, here's the web address to the online Florida Today article. Pictures can be viewed by clicking on the links under "Web Extras." http://www.floridatoday.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20071019/LIFE/710190301/1005/
BREAKING&GID=moadPVm8e4ir2Mel3cADFCyK20iHlrtkifZt/r6Yheg%3D

The Bridge

(This the personal essay I recently wrote for my creative writing class-- I mentioned in the update that I'd post it. FYI, I'm taking college courses to be able to have the re-licensure points to renew my teaching license next year. If you have any comments, feel free to give them. I am self-conscious, so just be tactful if you hate it.)

As I struggled for air, gallons of water, rough water, rushed over my head and around my body pinning me to the concrete pillar underneath the bridge. Instinctively I grabbed it, wrapping my arms and legs around it; it was the only sense of security I had at the moment. My ears were filled with the roar of the river—no sound could penetrate it. I clung to the pillar, afraid of pain more than anything, and surprisingly calm, as if the idea of death that loomed before me didn’t seem as terrifying as I had imagined. I thought about Kevin, my new groom of three months, hoping he had made it safely to the riverbank. I knew he would be sad if I died, would probably cry even, but the thought of having been sealed for “time and all eternity” comforted me. No doubt he was afraid for me, if he had gotten to shore. Ugh, stupid Jody! This was all his fault!

Somehow Jody and Rob had convinced Kev and me to go tubing down the Provo River with them. Perhaps I was the only one of us that needed convincing—I’ve never been much of a daredevil, and getting married had eased some of the burden ever present as a young single girl of appearing tough and tomboyish to impress the athletic boys. Kev really wanted to go and I agreed, just like all the other times in our marriage I’ve agreed to go waterskiing, or when I’ve agreed to go horseback riding. There’s always a bit of reluctance, enough to possibly be labeled as a “party pooper,” but I go merely out of love. It’s sick, I know.

We had driven in two cars, met at the ending point near the bottom of the river, left our light blue ’91 Buick Regal there, and piled into Rob’s car to head up to the starting point. My window at the right of the rear seat, faced the river, and as we drove, I watched with intent every bend in the river, every rock, every current. That pit in my stomach came again. It was an old, familiar feeling—one that came every time I was about to attempt something out of my comfort zone, which oftentimes was something I thought was really stupid. I really don’t remember how long we drove from point to point, but I do remember passing an old, rickety railroad bridge that crossed over the river. The current divided just before the bridge, one current passing smoothly around the outer edge of the bridge, and the other passing directly underneath, which for some reason created a hideous gorge of bubbles, waves, and vortices. Utter chaos. My eyes widened and my pulse quickened.

“Hey, you know, I had a friend that almost died underneath that bridge!” I looked up at Jody. He was smiling. I knew he was just trying to scare me. Reading my emotions has always been easy and he was definitely messing with mine.

“Shut up, Jody, gimme a break!” I pretended it didn't bother me.

“No, I’m serious,” and I could tell he actually was.

“Just as she was going under on her tube, it flipped over, she got pushed under, and her head got stuck in between two boards. She didn’t come back up for, like, two minutes. She was somehow able to get loose.”

I shivered. “And we’re going in there? Are you guys crazy?!”

My husband put his arm around me, smiled, and in his calm, quiet voice said, “Kris, you’re going to be fine. Don’t worry. It’ll be fun.” He could be so convincing.

The car stopped and I climbed out, of course still with some apprehension. I pulled off my shorts and peeled off my shirt, throwing them in the trunk with my glasses and shoes. The guys did the same and grabbed the tubes while I in my swimsuit walked to the edge of the bank, to peek in at what awaited me. I blinked. The water looked so… friendly. There was an easiness about it. A laziness even. Suddenly my apprehension faded, and perhaps I became slightly cocky. It looked simple. I reminded myself, It’ll be fun, and I forgot about Jody’s story, willingly hopping on my tube.

The water grabbed hold of the tube and pulled me along, at a slow enough pace to where I could watch the birds nesting in the trees, and bees gathering pollen from the wildflowers lining the shore. There was a cool breeze blowing through my blonde curls, and I sat in awe of the blueness of the sky, the majesty and enormity of the mountainside shadowing me, able to see every crack of stratification. We all floated down the river, bend after bend, occasionally whizzing by a rock or two or three—enough to create some “rapids” and a bit of a rush. It was at this point when I decided I was glad I had come, glad I had allowed the guys to talk me into going. Nature had never felt so inviting, so peaceful. I’m sure I had some type of schoolwork due by Monday, but I doubt I could remember what it was. I was doing my best to live in the moment, and I felt… free. It wasn’t long before Kev’s tube popped after hitting a rock, and not wanting to swim the rest of the way, he hopped into my tube. I was fine with that, though. Nothing could break my high at that point. Then we turned another bend.

I heard rushing water and snapped my head forward. It was that bridge. I had forgotten all about that horrible thing. I saw where the current divided and Kev did, too. Jody’s story raced through my mind, and the two of us kicked and paddled with fury trying to get caught in the outside current, the safer current. Jody’s friend must have been caught in the current running directly underneath the middle of the bridge. Somehow even with my husband’s long arms and legs flailing in the water, the wrong current caught our tube. I braced myself as the current dragged us nearer at a stronger and quicker speed. My husband knew we would flip eventually, and he advised, “Don’t hold on to the tube. Just let go, okay?”

“Okay.” And the bridge was upon us. It seemed we were to crash directly into the wooden pillar to the left, but just as Kev had predicted, the current grabbed the front of the tube, flipping us out just before crashing. I was pulled under, the water whipping me around until it pinned me up against that concrete foundation of the wooden pillar. I really thought I was going to die. How was I to get out of it? The weight and force of the water was too much to climb up and out. And I was becoming too comfortable with the idea of giving up.

Then a voice, a man’s voice, distinctive and clear. “Let go!”

What? Are you kidding me?! Let go. Oh, right, so the water can drag me further down? No, thank you!

“Let go!”

Oh, fine. I did. The water dragged me down. Uh huh, just as I thought it would. Now I’ve done it! And then it shot me out… and up. I surfaced, gasping for air. Smarty pants. I looked around, and my husband was on the shore, and a look of relief that obviously had been terror, crossed his face. Tears rolled down my cheeks, as he pulled me out and held me. I realized he almost lost me.

“Who was yelling for me to let go?”

“Huh? Well, I think that guy fishing over there was,” he nodded to a man on the other side, “but I don’t see how you could have possibly heard him over the roar of the water. I mean, we were all yelling for you.”

I stared across the river, and then at the torrent of water under the bridge. My chest burned—deep and warm and calming. And with that burning, a burning that had become so familiar as I came to recognize ultimate truth, I knew whose clear, perfect voice had spoken so clearly in my ear.

And as I now look over at my three-year-old daughter Allie, leaning on my bed dressed in her new yellow Belle gown while humming “The Itsy Bitsy Spider,” I shudder at the thought of possibly never having her or her little sister around me, giggling and growing. I am reminded of what I would have lost if I had not heard His voice.

Or worse, if I had not heeded it.

In the Past Month

I don't know what it is, but sometimes I think Blogger hates me. It won't let me log in for weeks at a time, then I can log in for a few weeks, then I can't log in, can log in, etc. So, I've been waiting until I could log in to be able to whip up an update, and guess what? I still couldn't log in! Ah, but how am I posting this, you say? Well, I did something ultra stealthy, but I'm not sure why it worked. I tried to create a blog (not really, but I wanted to see where it would take me), had to log in to my Gmail account through Blogger to do so, then clicked on the "home" link at the bottom of the first set-up page it took me to, and... voila, I'm logged in. What the...? I don't know what happened. Don't ask.

I know it has been a while since I've written anything, but having started a new independent study class, I've been a bit busy. I have been writing, but just not publicly. It's actually a creative writing class. Maybe I'll post my recent personal essay on here or something. Just don't laugh at it. Although if you did I wouldn't know. Just don't tell me you've laughed at it then.

Anyhow, as always I really enjoyed General Conference this past weekend. I especially needed President Eyring's talk. Perhaps it's all too easy for me to forget, or set aside, the miracles and blessings in my life when I'm challenged with a new, or even ongoing, trial-- when I think I'm emotionally spent, and that I must be completely alone in this because "it's not getting any better." I cannot forget of the Lord's love for me, and must always remember the many times that love has been proven to me. I think the most powerful part of Conference, is not so much the inspiring words we hear, but that those words are inspired-- that the men and women that deliver the messages, have been called of God by authority, and have the inspiration by that same authority to tell us what the Lord wants us to hear. I was taught years ago that one way to approach Conference is to come with a question-- one you've been seeking an answer to. And that question will be answered. President Eyring answered my question, and I have a renewed resolution to not forget God.

I wish Kev could have enjoyed Conference with the girls and me, but he was at his second (and last) weekend session of Wood Badge training for Scouts-- yeah, gone from before dawn on Friday through Sunday. At least it it was the last weekend. His first was in September... the day after he returned from a five day business trip in Boston. Ack. He did get to go to Fenway Park, though, and see the Red Sox play the Devil Rays, with a home run ball landing a few rows from him and John. They had to buy their tickets from a scalper, which left him with no money for food at the game, but who cares? He was at Fenway Park! After spending a week alone, I decided to spend the weekend with my great-aunts and uncles in the Villages. It was a nice break from loneliness-- riding in the golf cart, dancing at the town square, looking at old photos, eating food I didn't have to make. Allie was pretty disappointed when it was time to go.

Man, I really hate it when Kev's gone. I spend way too much time thinking about how I'm going to outsmart and rip apart any fruitcake that tries to get in my house. I have a very active and vivid imagination, which can be such a drag at times. Obviously Allie has inherited this, from all the time she spends off in dreamland-- it's like she's in this never-ending musical, singing and flitting about, and all the yelling in the world can't snap her out of it. Anyhow, Kev's glad Wood Badge is basically done, but he did have a good time. Sang in a quartet for the Sacrament Meetings on both weekends-- the quartet including his office mate and my old BYU Women's Chorus director. How fun is that? The other guy was random, but I think it's great that he got to do that.

Kev also celebrated his 31st birthday. He told me he didn't want a cake, but I made one secretly anyway and took it to the church. Conveniently, I had a meeting at the church at the same time he had Scouts, so I snuck the cake in the back of the Subaru before he got home from work, and then we drove separately to the church in anticipation of me getting done first. After my meeting, I got the cake ready in the kitchen, handed out goofy hats to whomever wanted to sing with us, crept up to the Scout room with the girls and a few others, and burst in singing "Happy Birthday." Yeah, kinda lame, but he thought it was sweet, and I was able to get rid of a bunch of the cake between the Scouts and other random people wandering the halls.

So, that's it. Nothin' fancy, but we're happy, and that's all that matters.

Popcorn Popping?

Today in Nursery at church (which was Sami's first day, by the way), Karen went in to lead the singing time for the day, as she usually does. The kids love "Popcorn Popping," a fun activity song (and Sami's favorite song) actually about the springtime blossoms on apricot trees, how they resemble popcorn popping-- something little Floridians can really relate to. To get their attention and to remind them of the words, Karen recited the first line.

"I looked out the window and what did I see?" The idea was to get them to say the next phrase.

"Popcorn popping!" the kids exclaimed... except for Allie.

Allie's response? "Lizards!" And the kids all ran to the windows.

I suppose that's true, though, being in Florida. You can always find a lizard running across any window screen. She's a thinker, that one!

Tagged

I was tagged:

4 Jobs I've had:
- Pancake woman at BYU's Morris Center cafeteria
- CUTCO sales rep
- Handheld periscope inspector/repair person
- Junior High English Teacher

Places I've lived:
-CA, UT, FL


Movies I could watch again and again:
- The Music Man
- Father of the Bride
- School of Rock
- Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure

Favorite Foods:
- Pizza
- Carne Asada
- Mongolian Beef from PF Chang's
- French fries

A couple weird things about me:
- I can make three folds in my tongue
- My mom is convinced that I could do the moonwalk in elementary school. Whatever. I could do the wave, though.

Favorite (most recently read) books (besides scripture):
- Twilight by Stephenie Meyer
- New Moon by Stephenie Meyer
- I started Charlotte's Web, and it seemed cute

Fav Tv Shows:
- Lost
- Numbers
- 20/20
- Reruns of the Cosby Show or Home Improvement

4 Websites that I enjoy (besides my blogging buddies):
- Travelocity (I can dream, can't I?)
- NHC (National Hurricane Center-- essential right now)
- LDS Music Source (I'm ward choir director)
- Townhall-- actually, Kev actually scans it and then send me links to good articles

Places I'd rather be:
- Right now, nowhere (I'm actually content at this point). But when having a bad day...
- Venice
- The temple (it's peaceful and my kids can't go in there)

I tag:
Marcie K.
Michelle C.
Melissa F.

A Mommy Tantrum

I am not looking forward to this week. In fact I'm dreading it. I realize that's a terrible attitude, but, like Allie, emotion is something I feel deeply. And the "drama queen" in me soaks up all I feel into a big sponge and then wrings it out, squeezing until my knuckles turn white. Any time I feel "in the depths of despair," to quote Anne Shirley, I interpret that either as my life is ending or that I just hate that life. Of course it's not I I really do think my life is ending, nor do I really hate my life (wow, I would be seriously ungrateful!), but I have the habit of creating a hyperbole out of every situation.

This evening after dinner I thought it might be nice to go for a Sunday stroll. It is beginning to get a wee bit cooler (all right, it's just not as hot) in the evenings and I was feeling trapped-- needed to get out and walk, blow off some of the steam that was building up from all the whining and neediness. "Mommy, Mommy (whine, whine, whine), " or "Mom, (whine, whine, whine) I want some fruuuuuit snaaaacks." Lovely. Allie then announced, "Mom, I have to go potty."

"Great, Allie, let's go." I grabbed her hand, and we walk to the bathroom. She stood there and danced around. I realized she needed help with her dress, so I got that off of her. She still stood there... doing nothing.

"Allie, what are you doing? Pull your underwear down."

"No, you do it, Mom." Are you kidding me? I walked out. A tantrum followed, and the little twerp went in "time-out." After she finished her sentence, I took her hand and we walked back to the bathroom. No problems this time. It did take twenty minutes to get her back in her clothes, though.

Finally, we were ready to go on a walk. The amount of time for that walk was continually getting shorter and shorter. I announced for Allie to get her shoes on, and Sami tried to help herself by slipping on one of my heels. She looked at me and declared, "Shoes!" Good job, Sam.

We all went in the kitchen, but then Allie saw what Sami was wearing. "Sam, you can't wear that shoe," and she began to reach for Sami's foot.

"Allie, no, don't take it off. I'll do it." She didn't listen. "Allie, stop! Don't!" She picked up Sami's foot from behind and began pulling her leg, and Sami fell. "Allie, I said no! What part of that don't you understand!" I lost it. "Allie, why can't you just leave her alone! And why can't you just listen to me?!"

"How would you like it, " and I walked behind her,"if I said, 'I don't want you to wear those shoes, Allie! Take them off!' and grabbed your foot like this..." I grabbed her foot, not anticipating that she would try to move forward at the same moment. The combination of the two movements, threw her off balance, and she went flying to the side, her head hitting the dishwasher. She burst out crying, and I knew she was hurt. I picked her up and carried her to the couch to examine her. She held her ear, and I pulled her hand away to find the top of her ear had been split open. I rushed her to the bathroom and put pressure on the wound with a damp washcloth. Unfortunately, I was in such a bad mood at this point that I couldn't even feel sorry, and I was getting irritated with Sami who had followed me into the little bathroom and was trying to play around me. Within five minutes the bleeding had stopped, but I kept pressure on it for about five minutes more, just to make sure. I applied the antibiotic ointment, and a bandage, and then I finally began feeling remorseful. I hugged her and apologized. She's always so quick to forgive. By then it was way too late for a walk, but we went on one anyway. I needed a distraction.

Of course, my "mommy tantrum" picked up right where it left off when we walked in the house as Allie whined and demanded that I put her shoes on the shoe rack, which was right next to her. The conversation distracted me, causing me to walk into and knock over Sami, who then whacked her head on the tile.

Ugh. Will I ever get this right?

In the Past Month

After Allie turned three in March I realized that she could start preschool in the fall. I had heard good things about a local Montessori school, and since I had gone to one when I was a week tike, I went to check it out. Back in April I made an appointment to tour the facility. Upon stepping onto the little campus, I was overwhelmed with the way the children seemed to be herded like cattle. The anxious mothers were all rushing their kids inside so they wouldn't be late for work, and the four-year class was rehearsing some complicated alphabet chant they were preparing for their graduation ceremonies. The woman at the front desk was quickly attentive to me, but didn't pay much mind to their possible future pupil. It oddly felt more like a daycare than a school. After talking with our guide on our tour I found out that all children came to school M-F. Five days... for a three-year-old. That would make a whole lot of sense for someone who worked, but not for me. You could pay for a few hours a day, or the cost increased significantly as the need for late care arose, even until six at night. And that's where that "daycare" feeling came from-- many people did use it that way, which obviously was the intent. Then I asked about tuition.

"It's $110."

"Oh, a month?"

"No, a week." Oh, how silly of me.

A week?! It didn't take me long to pack the girls up in the car giving the "I'll let you know..." excuse. In spite of all that, including a few months of contemplating Joy School, I found a great little school put on by a Baptist church. Three days a week for three hours a day at $125 a month. Much better. The classes each only have 6-8 kids and Allie's teacher is so patient and kind. Allie really needed to get away from me, and I needed to get away from her... if that doesn't sound terrible. In our case, it has been good for our relationship to have some time apart each day. Allie loves being there with her friends everyday, painting, playing with puzzles, and learning to interact and cooperate with people other than Mom, Dad, and Sami. Of course she got some of that in Nursery each Sunday, but only one day a week of that wouldn't make much of an impact with Allie. It sure has been nice, too, to have a few hours for a few days a week to spend time with Sami. I can go to Target with one, that's right, one child. After you have more than one, you cherish those opportunities.

The week before Allie started preschool, we actually took a short trip out west. We spent a couple days in the Phoenix area to be at the sealing of Bella to Kevin's brother Ryan and his wife Rachelle. His two sisters and his parents were there, too, along with some of the cousins for the girls to play with. We stayed with my Aunt Gina, and the girls had to get used to a couple playful doggies racing around like wild monkeys. Then Kev flew home, and I flew to San Diego with the girls to spend five days with my parents and grandparents. My Grandma Betty even made the long drive down from Oregon to spend some time with us, since we hadn't seen her in years and she had never met her great-grandbabies. The girls were in heaven in that big backyard, racing around barefoot in the soft grass (we miss that), riding around in the wagon, feeding the fish, going "strawberry picking" in Grampi's (my grandpa's) garden, and having "tea parties" in my old playhouse from childhood, or the "gingerbread house" as Allie calls it. The girls got to see Uncle Evan and his girlfriend Jillian, and Grandpa took us all to the beach, but since the water was so cold to us Floridians, we only last thirty minutes. What a fabulous trip!And the girls weren't even that difficult on the flight home, which was much appreciated since on the flight to Phoenix, Allie both pooped in her pants and puked, and Sami somehow peed all over my leg-- not that her diaper was full, but she somehow had situated herself in the right position to create an opening through which to pee. Kev was surprised that I laughed when it happened-- that I was in good spirits about getting peed on, but at that point I think I was just on verge of insanity.

Last weekend, on a whim, we took a day-trip out to the west side of the state. We stopped a the Florida Aquarium in Tampa, where Allie biffed it while trying to climb a ledge, and gave herself a nasty rug burn just under her right eye. We also got to go to the beach at Ft. Desoto (see previous post for more details on the beach), also stopping afterwards to spend a few minutes at the actual fort. Nothin' fancy, but they had some cannons and mortars that Allie and Sami thought were pretty neato.

I know this is all a bit late (not like any of you really care), but between trying to get back in the swing of life, as well as beginning another independent study class, along with Kevin's birthday, I've been pretty swamped. I actually should be doing school work right now, but I was beginning to feel a bit guilty about not having written an update... not so much for your sakes, but because I save this stuff for family history. And I don't want to get behind. I'd like to feel like I can stay on top of at least one aspect of my life.

Could There Be Anymore Poop Stories?

Saturday afternoon as we were driving from Tampa to a beach just outside of St. Petersburg, I got to thinking about a story my friend Bonnie had told me. I was venting to her one day a couple months ago about my woes regarding Allie and her refusal to, well, poop in the toilet, and how she pooped in our community pool, which left me mortified. Like in stores that post bounced checks, I swear I've seen our pictures posted in the clubhouse with the heading, "Do not let this rubbish in, no matter what!" Bonnie told me about how their oldest had pooped on the sand at the beach the previous year, when she was five. Not knowing what to do, they just buried it in the sand. I laughed. I pondered the story as we neared the coastline, wondering what I would do in that situation. I decided that since we usually bring toys with us, I would simply scoop it up in a bucket and toss it in the nearest bush... then I realized that this time we had no toys. Heck, we were 2 1/2 hours from home, and I wasn't about to pack up a bunch of toys to drag around an unfamiliar beach. I thought, Eh, she won't poop. Not here. I tried really hard to convince myself of this, but deep down I knew it was a bunch of hooey.

We trekked out to the beach, just to see there was sort of a narrow, shallow "intercoastal waterway." We walked a ways trying to find a way across when we realized everyone was just crossing through the knee-deep water at the narrowest part. Good thing I didn't bring that trunk-load of toys! After crossing and finding a spot, we dumped our bags and raced out to the water. Well, Dad and Allie "raced," but I stayed behind to help poor Sami, the wimp, gather enough courage to go out. The courage never came, so I picked her up, and took her in the water, with the turkey whining and clinging to me the whole time. Not ten minutes passed when Allie grabbed her behind. Kev pointed it out, and I scooped her up and headed back towards land. Why is that when you need to get somewhere quickly, it suddenly seems so painfully far away, and you can't move your legs fast enough? Twenty yards becomes twenty miles. I finally got to the sand, "three hours" later, and put Allie down, with her still holding her bum.

"Mom, I have to poop!"

"I know, honey, hold it in! Hold it in!"

The waterway we had to walk across to be able to get back to a bathroom was still at least 100 yards away. I trudged through the sand, and Allie fell behind. I stopped to wait, looking for her dance of discomfort when I realized she didn't look uncomfortable at all. Oh no! I walked back, peeked around at her back side, and saw a big brown spot on her shorts. Praying the "gift" wouldn't fall in the sand at that point, in front of a dozen people, I told her to walk slowly. Didn't work. She did walk very carefully, understanding exactly why I had instructed her to do so, but just that little amount of motion was enough to dislodge it. It landed in the sand directly in front of a couple sitting in their beach chairs. I looked up to see if they had seen, and it seemed they were distracted elsewhere, so, thinking fast, I was reminded of Bonnie's story, and I buried it. I used my foot to drag sand over it, making a thick pile, and I hoped with all my being that no one had seen. I made Allie go sit in the water for a while, washing out the remnants. Oh, come one, it's the ocean, for crying out loud! A little bit of Allie's feces is hardly going to hurt anyone! We then walked all the way to the restroom, because Allie was convinced she still needed to go. After walking back, Kev came back over with Sami, and I informed him of recent happenings. He quickly sympathized, and then asked if he could go out and body surf for a bit. Ugh, fine. Not two minutes after he left, with me walking back up the beach with the girls, Allie grabbed her crotch.

"Mom, I need to pee!"

"What are you talking about, Allie?! You just peed in the toilet a few minutes ago! I think you're fine. You can hold it." Bad choice, Mom.

Her hand then moved to her behind again.

"Mom, I need to poop again!"

Should have listened before. "Hold it in, Allie! Let's go! Hurry!"

She didn't get five feet before another blob fell out of her shorts. Again, I panicked and looked around. Phew, no one saw it! My foot was getting quite skilled at this whole burying-poop-thing (not a skill I had ever hoped to have to master), and I commanded Allie to sit herself down in the water again. Of course! All of this would happen when Kev's not around! It didn't take long for Kev to make his way back to us. His head drooped and shook from side-to-side when I told him of the ordeal. He said we should have just taken her to a dog beach.

Maybe I should just get myself a Pooper Scooper.

A Little Bit of Grace

Last Friday night, Kev and I were watching 20/20. The first part of it included a lame spot on Nicole Ritchie and her boyfriend, some lead singer of a band that apparently is pretty famous-- you can tell I've heard of them. But whatever. It didn't take us long to change the channel to watch some of an old rerun of Numbers. Diane Sawyer is not the best journalist-- seems a bit starstruck and naive. After a while we changed back, and thankfully the show had moved on. There's no way they could have filled an entire hour with an interview with Nicole Ritchie. Heck, I'm sure the ratings plummeted after five minutes, which is when we stopped watching. No offense to Nicole, but perhaps we're not as fascinated with the lives of celebrities as much of the world.

But like I said, the show had moved on. We suddenly found ourselves glued to the TV, my eyes completely fixed, as we watched the story of a 17 year-old girl from southern California who had gotten in a severe car accident with some of her high school friends back at the beginning of 1997, when I was a senior in high school. The SUV had flipped, and she was thrown from the vehicle, I think. The accident had left her in a coma for six weeks. Her mom had been with her the whole time, watching her, praying over her. When she awoke, the traumatic brain injury was so serious, that this girl had to relearn everything-- walking, talking, eating, etc. It took her six months in therapy, but she was able to regain those abilities to some extent, enough to make it to her high school's Homecoming game of her senior year, where the student body had voted her Homecoming Queen of '97, the year I flew back home to San Diego from BYU for a weekend to pass on my own crown.

From there, the segment switched to what life is like for her today, ten years later. While she still has a bit of a limp in her right leg, a slight slur to her speech, and short-term memory issues, she is fully functioning. She married, and is caring for their first child. As I watched, totally riveted, the interviewer asked her what has helped her heal the most, and without hesitation she responded that it was her baby. Caring for her baby has been the best therapy anyone could give her. Tears filled my eyes, and Kev looked at me and rubbed my back. I knew exactly what she was talking about.

Allie was the best therapy anyone could have given me. Many people are shocked to hear that I was in a car accident, and in a coma while seven months pregnant. How could that happen to a pregnant woman, of all people? How awful! In watching that spot on that other girl, I found myself feeling sorry for her, that she wasn't grown up and didn't have that baby right away as therapy, like I did. For me, I was in the hospital for three weeks, and two weeks after returning home I went back to the hospital to give birth, by c-section, to Allie. While my injuries weren't as bad as hers, I knew what it was like learning to walk again, I knew what it was like learning to feed myself again. My short-term memory and concentration was also completely shot-- the doctor would ask me to count to twenty, and I would get lost at eleven. My right side, too, experienced some paralysis. And in the midst of trying to heal on my own, then I had Allie, and I knew I had to heal... and I did. Getting in that car accident with Allie in the womb was definitely a blessing in disguise. Perhaps Allie was the little answer to the numerous prayers said in my behalf. The Lord preserved her also to preserve me. I don't know why I have completely healed, when the doctors said I would be lucky to get back 80%. I see other good people who have experienced similar injuries not come back even 80%, and I am immediately humbled because I know I'm no better than they-- that the Lord loves each one of us the same. My family reminds me often of my miraculous healing, which they actually witnessed more than I did, and my mother-in-law has suggested to me that I must have work yet to be done-- work that requires all of me. Maybe that's true and maybe it's not. Maybe that "work" is merely in being evidence of a living, breathing miracle.

As much as Allie brings me enormous amount of frustration, I cannot forget why that feisty little spirit was sent to me... which is why her middle name of Grace is so fitting.

Precious Moments

Sami:

Yesterday afternoon, Sami, my baby, came over to where I was sitting, on the floor in front of the couch. She cuddled me, got back up, grinned and said, for the first time unprompted, "I yuv you!" Nothin' beats that.


Allie:

Last year Kev decided to teach Allie how say personal prayers before bed, and each night we try to encourage her to do so. She has gone through phases of sweet compliance where she prays over everyone and everything, neediness and dependence where she claims she can't say them without help, and refusal where she won't even try to repeat what we prompt her to say. Currently she is refusing. We don't make a big deal out of it. We just ask her every night if she wants to pray, she shakes her head "no" with her fingers in her mouth and Tiger held to her nose, and we move on to our normal singing time. We figure she'll come around on her own. Last night after reading scriptures together, I got down on the ground for family prayer. Allie got down with me, and then climbed onto one leg, followed by Sami on the other leg. I put my arms around them and said, "Ok, are you ready to say family pr--," but before I could finish Allie folded her arms, bowed her head, and blurted out, "Dear Heav'ly Father, B'ess Aunt Er'ka to feel better... B'ess us to get home safely... B'ess... Aunt Er'ka to feel better. In the name of Jesus Christ, A-men." She covered her face with her hands and smiled in embarrassment as I hugged her and thanked her for her beautiful prayer. She stood up, grinned, and said, "Are you happy, Mom? Are you not angry?" We refer to those two emotions a lot in our household.

An Update on the Gobble Bag (see earlier post)

This evening we set the timer for 15 minutes, and Allie did a fabulous job cleaning her room, asking me the whole time if the Gobble Bag was coming out yet. The timer rang, and she ran out jumping and laughing so proud of the work she had done. Out came the Gobble Bag, and she was immediately reminded about the books she had left out. The Bag generously gave her another two minutes to clean her books-- she was done in about thirty seconds, she was so freaked out. The timer rang again, and he came out again, and she screamed, "Noooo!" I calmed her down and told her he was just going to look around, but if he couldn't find anything on the ground, then he wouldn't eat anything. I honestly thought she hadn't forgotten about anything... but she did-- we all did. Earlier that day, Allie had dragged a toy stroller full of toys into Sami's room, and had dumped the toys in the glider. And the Gobble Bag found them. Since I have to give this bag almost a life of it's own, one that shows no mercy, I had to let him "eat" those forgotten toys. I, as Mom, apologized to and sympathized with Allie the whole time the toys were being "gobbled" up. She cried and screamed, and her face was red and soaked with tears. Poor thing (although, Kev and I did have to stifle some laughter on our part)-- she had worked so hard. But the Gobble Bag cannot be merciful. But I can. So, the Bag took the toys, but I hugged and cuddled Allie, spoke softly to her, and calmed her. We reassured her the Gobble Bag would give the toys back on Monday night, but that he would eat them again if she left them out. She seemed to understand and stopped crying. But, yowza!

Here's the address to view the Gobble Bag article from LDSLiving: http://www.ldslivingmagazine.com/articles/show/351

In The Past Month

All right, we have moved on to a new tactic on getting Allie to clean her room.

We had tried posting jobs in her room, kindly encouraging her to do them. The encouraging turned into nagging, then yelling, and her refusals turned into all-out wars. We tried not allowing her to do anything fun, like going to the library or park, when her room was messy, but that just made it so I couldn't do anything fun either, since she's too little to leave at home alone. We tried putting all her toys in a garbage bag, and holding them hostage in the garage. She didn't care. She'd actually point the bag out to me, with this spiteful little grin on her face, every time we walked out there to get in the car. Kevin had to force her to clean her room, after two weeks, because I was sick of those toys being out there. We had even tried having her pick toys to give away to friends, but she was almost too excited to be giving gifts to her friends. We really needed the consequence to be painful. Then I got my "junk" email from LDSLiving. I was about to trash it, seeing as how the subject was, "Gobble Bag."

Yeah, sounds riveting, I thought. My finger was headed straight for the delete button when something told me to wait and open up the email. I did. Turns out that freaky-sounding title had to do with a way one mom got her kids to clean their rooms, and eventually to keep them clean. I won't go into how she did it, but I'll just fill you in on our variation. I told Kev what I wanted to do, and he was game, so come Saturday night, we made a quick trip to Target where I picked out a laundry bag. After we got home, I took the bag out of the packaging and brought it to Allie's room. Allie's room at that point was actually pretty darn clean, since Kev had nagged her into submission earlier that morning. I introduced Allie to the Gobble Bag (a.k.a. the laundry bag), and he growled and greeted her in a low, rumbly voice-- well, as low as a soprano can get. I told her that The Gobble Bag loves to eat toys and books that are on the floor or even on her bed, if they're not meant to be there, but that he only comes out to eat once a day right before bed at 7:15pm. Each night I would set the timer for 15 minutes, but when the timer would ring, then the Gobble Bag would come out and "gobble" up the leftovers. Her eyes grew wide and she blurted out, "Mom, don't let the Gobble Bag eat my toys! My room is clean!"

I said, "I know it's clean, Allie..." But then I spotted one toy train on the ground that Sami had brought in. I pointed to it, and said, "...except for that one. Look out, the Gobble Bag is going to eat it. Better get it!" I made chomping noises, slowly inching the Gobble Bag closer to the target. Allie yelled, "Noooo!" and jumped down to save the train. She put it away, and the Gobble Bag left the room disappointed. Every day she talks about how she doesn't want me to let the Gobble Bag out, because she has to clean her room first. We're planning on giving the bag of of toys back every Monday night, but as we notice the same toys being gobbled up each week, then we'll start throwing or giving them away, since she obviously doesn't care enough about them to keep them from being gobbled up. I'm not expecting this to last long with Allie, considering how inconsistent she is, but it's nice for now. Honestly, though, we really didn't mean for her to be terrified of the bag-- it's just a perk. I'll let you all know when it stops working, though.

Moving on, the girls completed a session of swimming lessons this past month. Allie is a little maniac-- jumping into the 5 ft. end, surfacing, and swimming to the side all on her own. Of course, her swimming is more like flailing her arms and legs as much as she can. It ain't pretty, but, heck, she's only thee! Just the other day at a friend's house, she couldn't get enough of jumping off the diving board-- Kev caught her as she fell in, but she was a wild woman! I'm proud of her. She really got over her leach-y-ness from her May lessons. Sami took a parent/tot class with me. The class was helpful when it came to Sami getting used to the coolness of the water, which had previously made her cry. But she had trouble trying to stay focused on the activities. The other people around her fascinated her too much. When we took her to the community pool on Friday, she had no trouble trying to swim and kick her legs since hardly anybody was there to distract her, so maybe that's the way to go now.

Towards the latter part of the month, Sarah and her fiance Jeremiah came to visit us for a weekend. We went to Universal Studios (without the girls, thanks to Beth) and rode a wicked roller coaster that made Sarah sick, spent a morning at the Kennedy Space Center, and went to the beach. We rented surf boards so Jeremiah could teach Kevin how to surf, and wouldn't you know it? No waves! Man, each of those boards cost twenty bucks to rent! We nearly got caught in a thunder storm, though. At one point, I noticed the ground wasn't as hot as it was when got to the beach. I looked up to see clouds. Oh, glorious clouds! But they were dark clouds. After a while, I heard the thunder, and warned everyone. They just nodded their heads. All right, maybe I'm just being paranoid. Then I saw flashes, and again I told Kev. He nodded. Then I saw the bolt. Anxious, I warned everyone again, and ran to gather up all our things. Within minutes the wind picked up big time, and I pointed out that when the lifeguards are even leaving, you know it's time to get the heck out of there. Sarah agreed, and we all gathered our things as quickly as we could, rushed to shower off, and raced to the cars. As soon as we got in, the rain started, and by the time we drove around the corner, it was a full-on downpour. Welcome to Florida rain, guys! What fun having those two here. Allie was so depressed when she woke up the Tuesday morning when they had already left for the airport. She wandered over to the guest room, saw Sarah's things gone, and said, with a pathetic pout, "Where are my friends? I want my friends to come back to my house!" Sami had a special bond with Jeremiah, too, and I think she was a little sad they had gone as well. And if you're looking at these pictures wondering which one is Kev and which one is Jeremiah, don't think you're crazy, because, yes, they are similar-- tall, blond, same coloring. Jeremiah is the one wearing glasses. Just be glad Kev wasn't wearing his glasses-- then you'd really be freaked out.

And with all that, here comes August... Before I forget, so far Allie has managed to get a frog in her room at bedtime (honestly, it wasn't her fault), but while I was trying to catch it, it took this beautiful flying leap from the windowsill to Allie's bed, and then hopped around while till I was able to trap it in Allie's Mrs. Potts teapot. And Sami managed to split her head open the day after... while I was in the middle of telling a friend about the frog that had gotten in Allie's room! While visiting this friend (and telling the frog story), Sami was playing with a toy near their rustic entertainment center. She bent over to grab the toy, and we heard a thump. I figured she just whacked her head again-- she tends to just throw that thing around. She was hunched over with her back to us, and I walked over to her, picked her up to comfort her, and saw blood gushing, pouring, from her head. "She's bleeding!" I said. I carried her to the kitchen where we kept pressure on the wound. The bleeding stopped after less than ten minutes, and we covered it with a Band-Aid until I was able to get to Wallgreens to pick up some butterfly bandages. She's doing great now-- no goose-egg, no infection, no opening, just a nice, healthy scab. So, no worries, mates!

The Evolution of Kev's Facial Hair

Kevin went to Scout camp the week of the 4th. He came back that Saturday with a beard, which I told him to get rid of. He had me take pictures throughout the shaving process, the wise-guy. I don't know what the deal is with the eyes-- he thinks it makes him look intimidating or something.

This one made me laugh-- kind of the Hulk Hogan look.

Although, this was Kevin's favorite-- he dug the sweet mustache. One friend said, "Hey it's Wesley from The Princess Bride!" Oh my gosh, I think he's right!


Much better. :)

Allie-isms

We've been trying to get Allie to clean up her room for over a week now. Most of her toys have been sitting in a trash bag in the prison otherwise known as the garage. I feel like we've tried every tactic known to man, but I just tried a different approach.

"Allie, your room looks like a pigsty!"

"Yeah." She giggled.

"Does Aurora live like a pig?" Aurora is her new favorite Disney princess.

"No."

"Does Aurora live like a pig, or a princess?"

She dodged the question, quite skillfully, I must say. "No, Aurora doesn't live like a princess! She lives in Florida... with Aaaallie... and she's wearing a BYU shirt." No kidding, Allie!

Then yesterday as I sat at the computer making a grocery list, she wandered in and pulled at my arm. I asked her what she was doing.

"Mom, if you want to watch cartoons with Aaaallie, you have to go clean my room!" I busted a gut.

Pool Fiasco

Today is one of those days where I truly feel like it's the worst day ever. Of course it's not, but emotionally, I feel like my world is ending.

We just got home from the community pool. Let me explain... This morning the girls had their swimming lessons. Monday was their first day for the session, and for Allie's class they had all the preschool-age kids meet together to sort them out into classes according to skill and willingness to take risks. I had put Allie in lessons in May, and they had put her into the beginning class out of the three. For some reason, this time they put her in the third class with all the five-year-olds. So yesterday she was jumping in the pool in the 5 ft. end like a maniac. Made me nervous, but I was glad she was doing it and having fun, 'cause the minute she gets scared, then she stops being cooperative. Today she decided she was scared, and all I heard throughout the lesson was Allie screaming about not wanting to cooperate. Lovely. It always makes me want to hold my head up high when my daughter isn't cooperating with authority. I sure hope you sense the sarcasm in that. Oh yeah, and I forgot to mention the battle we had this morning just trying to get the kid to put her swimming suit on so that we could even go in the first place. She wanted to go, oh yes, but just had no concept of time-- that the class would start at a certain point in time, with or without her.

Anyhow, as we're driving home from their lessons, I try asking Allie why she was feeling scared, but, darn it all, she still hasn't grasped the meaning of the word "why," and couldn't give me a helpful answer. Arrrg! I suddenly got the idea to stop at the community pool to practice. So, I asked her if she wanted to do that, and she was game, so I raced home to grab Sami's floatie and we drove back to the pool. There were a few other kids there, but it wasn't too crowded, thankfully. We jumped out of the car, just to get to the pool with Allie holding her crotch.

"Allie, do you have to pee?"

"No," and she starts peeing.

"Allie, stop! Let's go the bathroom." She stopped, and I grabbed her hand, all while holding Sami, and getting a fake smile (which was really a look of disgust) from the other mother in the pool. Allie peed in the toilet, and we got in the pool. She wanted to push off the side of the wall and swim to me, so I let her do that several times. Then I randomly floated on my back and kicked up some water. Allie squealed and asked me to "sleep on my back again" without kicking. I did... just to be stirred by some thrashing and a woman on the side of the pool yelling. Allie had been trying to swim to me. I grabbed her and she was fine, but the woman, who is a neighbor, was pretty concerned and said, "She needs to get some floaties!" A comment that I took as, "If you were a good mom, you'd get her something so she wouldn't drown!" I wasn't in any kind of emotionally stable state to be taking comments like that.

We moved on to Allie jumping int the pool from the side. After about five minutes or so of that, in helping her back onto the side of the pool, I felt something in her swim shorts. That's right-- the little dear had pooped in the pool. I said, "Oh no." And she looked down, ashamed. I pulled her out of the pool and told her not to move. Of course to her that means, "Pull the poop out of your shorts and throw it on the pavement." As I grab Sami and hop out I tell Allie to not move again and my neighbor sees and says, "Oh no!" Did she or anyone offer to help me, as I'm juggling a baby and trying to clean up the mess? Not really. I run and get toilet paper, and my neighbor suggests that her son bring me the trash can. I said I'd just throw it in the toilet, so he didn't help me, but according to him the trashcan was too hot to move anyway. Wimp. No one helped me, no one acknowledged my distress or tried to sympathize at all. They just all hopped out of the pool, totally disgusted with me and my children. You know, the "My children would never be so unruly and disgusting" looks you get. I was mortified and came home and sobbed on the kitchen floor. But now more than anything, in reflection, I'm pretty darn angry at all those people at the pool who didn't bother to lift a finger to help me-- not even the one dad who was there with his son.

I know I'll laugh about all this later, but I haven't gotten to that part of the healing process yet.