Gabe has an ear infection, and that is putting it mildly. I think Gabe has the powers of all that is evil residing behind his ear drum, because what else could keep him awake and screaming at all hours of the day and night? Tylenol is not helping. Also, I have a sinus infection. It hurts and it is disgusting. We are both on liquid amoxicillin.

Gabe gets a carefully measured syringe of precisley 5 milligrams two times a day. After all that measuring, and being too tired to wash dishes or find the little cup the pharmacist gave me, I just take a two tablespoon sized swig from the bottle three times a day (I hope it was three) and call it good. I don’t measure when I bake and the cookies turn out. I don’t measure when I cut paper to scrapbook and the layouts turn out, too, so I’m assuming that I can cure myself with my innate measuring skillz. My tongue totally knows the feel of 2 tablespoons (or was it teaspoons. . .I forget).

For the past five nights, I have averaged five hours of sleep per night. Can you tell?

I am one of those wusses who really needs her beauty sleep in order to look pretty and put together coherent sentences. When I’m tired I lose my nouns. Everything becomes, “Would you hand me that. . .oh. . .you know. . .it’s red. . .and we squeeze it on those. . .long meat things. . .KETCHUP!” Or the always popular, “Are we out of. . .” (Age about five hundred years here while you wait for me) “milk?” And my personal favorite, “Jonas, Gabe, Maggie! Whoever you are! Go put that plate in the washing machine! I mean dryer! I mean The Thing That Washes Dishes! AARGH!” It isn’t pretty. It irritates Chris and the kids laugh at me.

All this sleep deprivation and general ickiness has me several steps behind this week. I have a major creative assignment due from the one Design Team I kept. And I can’t even think creatively right now. The house is rapidly going to seed (yes, company will be here in about 36 hours), and I’m willing to bet that tonight’s sleep is going to be a joke as well.

So, yeah. That’s what’s up. How about you leave a. . .oh crud. . .you know. . .you when you say something to me. ..in writing. . .on a blog. . .

Sigh.

We’ve decorated and I think we’re about done. The only thing missing is a star or something for the top of the tree. We’ve looked but everything is is big or gaudy or caked with glitter. If anyone has a recommendation of a lovely topper for my woodsy, burgundy and gold tree, do let me know.

As you can see from this shot, I didn’t even clean up to take the picture. . .see the baby toys? They are everywhere, and I think they are breeding.

I’ll share more of the decor when I get my act together enough to snap some decent photos. These are rather orange. I could use photoshop for Christmas lol!

Photo taken of me on my 28th birthday.

1. Grateful Gabe is here. I feel such a sense of puzzle pieces falling into place with him around, and such a sense of peace.

2. Grateful to have a year free of deployments.

3. Grateful to have Jonas doing so well in school.

4. Grateful to have new couches and curtains in my living room.

5. Grateful to be blessed with work.

6. Grateful for cozy sweaters and socks.

7. Grateful for holidays and happy times to grow together as a family.

8. Grateful for Maggie’s encouragement.

9. Grateful for scripture and divine counsel.

10. Grateful my children are healthy and happy.

11. Grateful for legos and the wonder they inspire.

12. Grateful for trees that change color.

13. Grateful for my ability to laugh at things.

14. Grateful for good friends.

15. Grateful for spell check.

16. Grateful for books.

17. Grateful to live in a place that is so safe.

18. Grateful to have a pantry with food in it.

19. Grateful to have been happy for a year.

20. Grateful to my Savior for soothing my soul.

21. Grateful to my Father in Heaven for giving me understanding.

22. Grateful for children who are creative.

23. Grateful for Grandma Mildred and and Grandma Donna and their recipes. I pull those out so often this time of year.

24. Grateful I believe in a heaven and that I’ll see these Grandmas I’ve lost again.

25. Grateful for opportunities to serve.

26. Grateful for a good husband who loves me, and who shows that in his actions.

27. Grateful for songs sung off key with silly lyrics by joyful children.

28. Grateful to keep on learning and growing and to become better that I am.

Well, ok, bumped is a more fair adjective- but still. It was close.

I was in the parking lot putting Gabe in his stroller. He was asleep so I was bent over and the guy started backing up- he hit my leg- didn’t hurt, but I shot straight up and jumped out of the way!

He felt so bad! I was so bent over, he honestly couldn’t see me at all. Not only was I way below his line of sight, but I was perfectly in his blind spot. He jumped out and apologized profusely, asked me if I needed any help- just the perfect gentleman. Then he said, “It is a good thing I say my prayers at night!”

It is true- we are watched over.

And it is nice to be able to recognize that when it happens.

The thing is.

Do you ever have something to say and you’re just not sure how to say it? Sometimes explaining yourself is the hardest thing of all. I need a starting point.

The thing is:

Will a semi colon help? One wonders. . .

THE THING IS:

I know I worried a number of you when I said I was re-prioritizing and making changes. I got many concerned comments and e-mails, many of which were perceptive enough to know exactly what to be worrying about. Thank you. It means so much that you care.

I don’t want to worry anyone, so here I go. For give the blather likely to ensue shortly. I’m tired and my words just aren’t coming very easily.

The thing is, I no longer want to scrapbook on anyone else’s terms. I’m not finding joy in this. I’m finding stress and an honest desire to not make anything. I am tired of deadlines and worrying about being good enough. And I’m ready to take a break, sit back, and think about something else. Because of this, I quit almost all of my Design Teams. I still work for The Scrapbook Nook, but have renegotiated my contract to be one that does not require me to fulfill any design obligations.

This is the best thing for me right now.

It doesn’t mean I’ll never scrapbook again. I’m sure I will. I just want to make things because I feel like it, not because I am obligated.

(I realize half of my readership just scrolled up to their bookmarks list and deleted me, ha! Sorry about that.)

I need to simplify as much as possible right now, and this is part of it.

You see, the thing is, I really struggle with giving myself credit for what I do. I do a lot. And I have a hard time acknowledging anything that doesn’t make people say WOW or leave tangible evidence as “a lot”. I can spend a day scrubbing the house, cooking for my family, reading to my kids, doing the grocery shopping and taking the kids to the doctor- and I feel like I haven’t accomplished anything at all. I realize that is is not true.

These tasks are extremely important. Raising your babies may not have gratifying moment after moment of contentment, completion and evident value- but it is critical. The sad thing is, motherhood can have contentment, gratification and even completion if you are at peace enough to recognize each beautiful, valuable step in life and embrace and celebrate that. I need more of that.

I also struggle with post partum anxiety. I am not sure if I have ever discussed this on my blog before. Each time I have had a baby I have had a few blissful months, and then I have been eaten alive by anxiety. With Jonas, it was exhausting. With Maggie, it was crippling. She hit a year old and my life stopped. I could hardly leave the house, I couldn’t stand noise, and I thought and thought and thought myself into a horrible, obsessive tizzy until I could barely sleep or function.

There is a ledge between functioning with anxiety and not. I am trying to stay as far away from that ledge as is possible. So far, it is mostly an irritant. Occasionally, I have a really bad day. I don’t tell people about it much, I just muddle through. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I’m just angry that I’m on this train again. And sometimes, I don’t show up physically or emotionally. I am unable.

I’m doing what I can to take care of myself and to deal. I see a therapist. I make sleep and taking care of myself a priority, and so far that is helping. It still isn’t fixed though. The last two times it took several months to get back to feeling like myself. (You know, my usual level of obsessive crazy).

So I’m simplifying.

Most people would say, ‘I’m quitting scrapbooking to pursue other things”. I’m quitting to pursue. . . less. I told my husband I was going to start watching two more television shows a week in an effort to chill out.

Aside: I have a rockin’ husband. I told him that I quit my Design Teams. Since my designing is so closely connected with my paycheck bringing work, he thought I said I had quit my job. To his credit, and I will love him forever for it, he was 100% supportive. There was a very brief flash of “uh-oh” across his face and then he was just there for me. Thanks to that flash, I was able to let him know that I didn’t just sink the family finances- but wow- to know I could have and he loves and supports me anyway? Wow.

So. More TV. More family time. More homework with the kids. More sitting on the living room floor making faces into a mirror with my baby- and all of this without a deadline lingering in the back of my mind. More time to sit, to be still, and to know that He is God.

That’s about perfect.

Also perfect: My birthday is in three days! And I heard a rumor that a very yummy ice cream cake was ordered. For anyone wondering what I might want here is my wishlist. Also, this book, which I couldn’t find at the bookstore today, and cute socks. I’m easy to please. Hee!

(And seriously, no one has to get me anything, but you know. . .just in case).

When we drove home from Utah after our Fourth of July family vacation we, as always, had a very long drive through the very empty state of Nevada. The Nevada desert is dotted with small, rustic towns that are spaced out just far enough to not leave you on the side of the road out of gas and baking under the hot sun. They are, however, spaced far enough apart to frequently leave persons with average to small sized bladders squatting behind tumbleweeds. These persons are all hoping that because Highway 50 is known as “The Loneliest Road in America” it will mean that no one will drive by as they are trying to take their moment pioneer style.

As we made this trip we stopped at the first few stops, fueling up and buying snacks. We enjoyed the drive: I with my book, Chris with his music, the children coloring peacefully in the backseat. It was going very well. We stopped in Ely, took a breather and grabbed some refreshment at a fast food establishment. I, like a fool, got a free refill.

Now, it should be known from the start that I have an abnormally small bladder. No MRI will prove it, as it appears deceptively average, but in a situation where my ability to go long periods of time between potty breaks arises, the truth comes out. It’s about the size of a thimble. When you add to this the fact that I have born three beautiful children, and things are just not what they used to be, most people agree that it is wise and reasonable to just let me go have my moment when I need to have my moment.

As we were driving along I became uncomfortable but knowing we were within a half an hour of Eureka, I decide I could hold it. I let Chris know that we would definitely need to stop in Eureka for a potty break. He said that was alright and continued driving along. Meanwhile, my eyeballs began to float.

Finally, we were at Eureka. We entered the city limits, and before I knew it, my husband drove right on through without even slowing down. I was in pain at this point, but trying to remain calm. I gave him the hairy eyeball, which he didn’t notice, but I didn’t say anything. I saw a settlement about ten miles on the horizon, and I assumed that because my husband had traveled this route so many, many times in his childhood he knew of a good restroom in this outcropping of buildings, perhaps a tidy gas station or a quaint diner. Something. Anything.

I mentioned this to my husband, and he got very quiet. Then he began to apologize and to hope that maybe my toilet fantasy was true. We quickly learned that this outcropping of buildings was nothing more than a barn and some storage sheds.

Now, Austin is the next stepping stone of civilization on the map, but Austin is roughly two hours away. After holding a full bladder for forty-five minutes, there was just no way. And on a drive with three small children, there was also no way I was adding forty minutes onto my trip by turning around.

I am a reasonable woman, a tough, camping sort of woman who can take her moment without the benefit of modern plumbing if she needs to, so after a few minutes of total agony, I told my husband to pull us over so I could take care of things.

At this point, I was in pain and struggling to not have an accident. I threw my shoes on, leaped out of the vehicle and bounded into the desert. I was heading for a rather large sagebrush I saw about 50 yards away from the road; it was just slightly up and over a tiny ridge in the landscape, and just far enough that I figured my bare fanny wouldn’t be highly visible to passers-by. As I hopped awkwardly around cacti and sage I kept a wary eye out for rattlesnakes. I really should have been thinking about smaller problems.

Once I felt I was at a fairly modest distance from the road I started contemplating exactly how this was going to happen. As most of you know, taking your moment pioneer style in a pair of jeans isn’t the easiest thing to accomplish. Judging my lack of dexterity and balance against the distance from the highway, I opted to just remove it all and let loose. After all, I didn’t need to tinkle. I needed to open a flood gate.

I whipped my bottoms off and tossed them on a nearby sagebrush, and then finally, blessedly, found relief.

It was right about now that I noticed that there was a fire ant inches away from my right foot. I hopped to the left, only to discover two more coming from that direction. I hopped back and stepped directly on some very sharp plants. There were more fire ants coming. Inconveniently, I was still having my moment. I knew this was going to be a long moment, so I decided that if I just had my moment on the fire ants, I would be ok. Me against about six feisty little biters. I could do this.

Now, I am not a naturally graceful person to begin with, so you can imagine that hopping barefoot all over cacti and prickly sage trying to both avoid and drown a little brigade of fire ants at the same time (and don’t forget, unclothed from the waist down!) is quite a sight. My husband and children are staring at me. I see therapy bills in my children’s future.

I also see at least fifteen more fire ants moving in rapidly.

Additionally, there is a car slowing down on the highway. They honk at me, and I imagine, they laugh.

I was still having my moment. This is no longer the free refill in action, this isn’t even the orange juice with breakfast. This has got to be the chamomile tea I had at bedtime two nights before finally exiting my body because I have been going for that long.

It is at this point that two things happen. My in-laws, who were driving ahead of us turned around and arrived back at the spot where we were stopped. And I got bit by a blasted ant!

I was now committing an act of indecent exposure in front of my husband’s family and my impressionable children, hopping around in the middle of a wasteland desert, in pain and STILL having my moment. Looking at the silver lining, I was now surrounded by enough fire ants to both carry me off and effectively dispose of my humiliated corpse.

I finally finish, and grab my jeans and my unmentionables from off the sagebrush, shaking them wildly hoping, praying, that there won’t be any ants in my pants. I wriggle into them, and hobble my way back to my ride. When I arrive at my door I stop in absolute shock.

Directly before my passenger seat door is the biggest anthill I have ever seen in. my. life. Easily two by three feet wide and at least a foot tall, this is a mountain of fire ants. I ran directly through this mountain in my haste to get out of the car. There aren’t any other ant hills near us, and my husband and in-laws both say they’ve never seen fire ants on this trip before. Somehow, I managed to have Chris pull over in front of the one and only fire ant volcano on Highway 50. Figures.

Even though I picked at least twenty cacti and sage slivers out of my feet and only had about three fire ant bites, my feet were so swollen I couldn’t walk the next day.

And through all of this- I laughed my head off. Painful, embarrassing, a little dangerous. . .but all the while- I mentally blogged and knew, someday this was going to be one funny post.

Proof that there is more than snow in North Dakota.

I have been telling Chris that I wanted to put family pictures up on the wall for about four years now, and right before we left on vacation we pulled it off! When we moved into this new house I ended up with a stack of mixy-matchy frames shoved between the couch and the wall. They sat there for months looking sloppy while I considered possibilities, vetoed ideas, and arranged the 15 frames in various positions trying to create something that looked nice- without having to run out and spend a lot of money on new frames.

Keep in mind, we’re military. We move A LOT. And while I like to have as finished looking a house as possible, it is totally imprudent to completely redecorate and buy all new curtains and frames and fixtures and furniture to match the home we are currently in. So I try to do most decorating projects on a dime, so to speak.

I feel so moved in! The Air Force is now welcome to give us orders. I have hung both curtains and pictures, so I think this means we should be re-assigned soon. Please?

(Oh- the quote on the lowest frame is from Joseph B. Wirthlin. It says, “Come what may, and love it”. I love this concept, and think that for our family especially, this is a great attitude to have. Whatever comes- choose to love it. Choose happiness. Choose positivity. Make your own peace.