Color Me Rad

Over the last few years we have fallen in love with running here. We race when we get a chance (between five kids, pregnancies and infants, cost of racing and etc.) we don't participate in as many official races as we like. But we are rapidly transitioning into a new stage in our family.

Joe has been running off and on for a year now and really enjoys it. Yesterday he and Matt were able to run a race together for the second time. Color Me Rad is an awesome 5k event to help support the Special Olympics. Throughout the races the runners are pelted with "color bombs". It is non competitive and great for families. Emily told us on Thursday night that she wanted to run too, but we told her it was too late because she hadn't been running with the boys. When we got to the race, however, her absolute best friend was there to walk it with her mom and they invited her to walk with them.

Joe and Matt did a great job. Matt apparently breached the height barrier because his face and halfway down his torso was almost clean (as opposed to Emily and her friend!). Emily and her friend had a blast. The pictures are completely out of order and some are from the park afterward when Matt was playing a doubleheader soccer game. It was a wonderful day and next year we are absolutely doing it again - me included!

A Wee Bit of Whining

Did you know that sometimes pregnancy isn't fun? Yeah.  It's true.  I have good pregnancies.  I have a house full of kids.  I'm lucky!  It's worth the little aches and pains and the worry.  But sometimes do you feel like whining a little? I do. Why isn't my body happy like it was nine pregnancies ago? PSD, marginal placenta previa, round ligaments that completely hate me and now my son has fifth disease. Last night I was hobbling around everywhere like a ninety year old woman and couldn't do simple household tasks like move the ottoman without hurting. The fifth disease isn't a huge deal since I'm 24 weeks along and most likely already have the antibodies anyway (I have five kids after all). But it's one more test to do, one more thing. Well, that's about all I've got. Have you noticed how sometimes complaining is so satisfying and sometimes it's just not at all? Enough belly aching! Back to work!

Happy Family

This morning I found this on the living room table.

 

I have been hesitant to tell many people about expecting another baby.  I just get tired of the worn out responses sometimes.  Matt and I were saying the other night that we feel like wearing a sign. "Yes, these are all ours.  Yes we have our hands full.  Yes, we know how babies are made."

 

But, there's something else I would add.  "I love it and wouldn't trade my big family for the world."

At the dentist yesterday, the hygeinist found out I was expecting and made the typical comments.  She asked how many were in school, and I told her I had two still at home.  She replied that that wasn't bad, except for during the summer.

 

I love summer.  I pray for snow days.  I can not wait for Spring break.  I pleaded with Heavenly Father for years to let me homeschool.  I love my children.  I actually love being around them.  I chose a big family and cherish the warm, chaotic busy-ness of having a house full of little children.  Sometimes I feel like pulling my hair out.  Sometimes it feels more than a little overwhelming.  And sometimes I am way over due for a time out.  But since when was ease and lack of challenge a prerequisite for joy. There is heartache and struggle in every situation in life.  Big families are no different (though, to tell the truth I still feel a bit of a fraud saying I have a big family - "big" to me is 8+ kids).  I find no greater joy than watching the amazing people my children are becoming and watching them grow as a family.  They love each other.  They look out for each other.

 

So, I guess this is the sign I really would like to wear around.  "This is my big family and I love it!"

Interesting Idea

Yesterday morning, Mary came downstairs and sat at the table with her bowl of cereal.  While she was eating she looked up at me.

Mary: I wish my teacher was catwoman.
Me: Why?
Mary: Because then she could teach us how to fly and do cool tricks.  We could be her little catwomen.

Where did she even get that?

I said, "I hate epidurals." And Will, who overheard, said, "You ate dirt?!" Then he started laughing.

Do you ever feel like hiding under a rock?

Service vs. Servitude

I hate housework.

It feels tedious and routine and...ugh.  But, housework needs to happen.  My kids do a lot, and so does Matt, but with seven people in the house, there is an endless amount of work to do.  A couple of weeks ago, I read this article in the Ensign magazine.  A young mother talks about wanting more opportunities to serve others, but with four young kids, there never seemed to be enough time.  That sounded familiar!  She prayed for opportunities to serve, and instead of miraculously being given more time, her family suddenly needed even more of her time and attention.  She realized that that was valid service and Heavenly Father was just as accepting of and pleased with her service to her family as He would be with more "accepted" acts of service.  It was a gentle reminder of a truth that is so easy for me to forget.

I decided to change my attitude.  I wasn't going to do a list of soul-crushing chores, I was going to do things for my family.  Doing the laundry, turned into making sure my children had clean clothes to wear.  Making their beds was not manditory but something done because I love them. 

This lesson was reinforced today.  Last night Matt was at the temple, and chaos reigned.  I forgot about a project Emily had to turn in on Monday morning, so we had to get dinner, showers, baths, dishes, and a project done, while dealing with two sick boys that wanted more than all my attention.  Needless to say, the house was not picked up.  It was strewn with remnants from Emily's project, Cheerios, books, blah, blah, blah.

I woke up this morning still congested, and Will and Ben were even worse off than I was.  Fourth Sunday in a row with sick kids (Matt stayed with them the first two weeks).  After Matt left with the older three, I sat down and looked around.  What a mess!  But it was Sunday.  I wanted to keep the sabbath.  It occurred to me that my family could keep the Sabbath more affectively if they were in a clean home.  I wanted to give them the gift of peace that can only come in a tidy home.  So, I cleaned while the younger boys played and whined and ate Cheerios.  When I was done, I felt so good.  My spirit had grown more from that act of service than if I had spent that hour reading sermons. 

When I feel like I am enslaved by my house I find no joy, and there are always more tasks staring me in the face.  When I do things simply because I love my family and want their home to be a more pleasant place, each task is satisfying in and of itself and isn't part of an impossible to finish list.  I will probably never be an impeccable housekeeper (and I kind of don't want to be), and I still don't love cleaning, but that's alright.  As long as I continue to free myself from the servitude of housework by instead serving those I love, I will find more joy in my life.