Anyone seen Grace or Charity?

Lately I have become very hypersensitive to my kiddies and their behavior. I wouldn't ever call them ill-behaved (okay maybe sometimes) or bad children...because they are simply that, children. They are still learning tact and manners and etiquette. And while I wish that I could instruct them once on how to be proper and they would remember, I have to realize that these are things that take time and practice to learn.
Fast forward to yesterday. I had to stay home from church with two of my "pukers" while the rest of the fam went to church. The house was eerily quiet, but I decided to take advantage of the peace and silence and just sit down and think...about random things like: how good a double/double from In-n-Out sounded, and how awesome this family tree/picture frame ditty from Rod Works would look on the wall down the hallway, and why, for the love, I haven't been able to trim off the unsightly fat pockets on my hips after weeks of working my buttocks off at the gym (or apparently not working off). Ya know good sabbath day thoughts, but...then I was struck with an idea. At the time I wasn't even thinking about the kiddies or this issue with their behavior, but for some reason the idea popped right into my head.
I don't know if you mommy's have these kinds of problems at home, perhaps it's just us. But I've become quite fed up with them and the stroke of divinity yesterday helped give me perspective.
My children are, to put it bluntly, LOUD. Just generally loud. They WALK loud, they TALK loud, they even SLEEP loud sometimes (just the occasional sleep talking/laughing). And I finally explained to them that there has to be moments of quietude, not just because momma will have a nervous breakdown, but also because it's hard to feel the holy ghost when the walls are shaking from all the noise. I've tried to make them mindful of this by simply saying "useless noise" when things get too loud. And, surprisingly, the decibal levels have tapered down a bit. It could still use some improving, but we are working on it.
The next big issue (and probably the bigger of the two) I have been addressing, but not making much progress on is "graciousness" in thought and deed. And it's got me a little concerned. I have caught my kiddies saying some very... "not nice" things to each other and it kind of hurts my heart to see that kind of interaction take place. Sometimes it's not even what they are saying, but how they are saying it...their tone of voice as it were. I mean, where did my kids pick up such sarcasm...uh hum?
As I was saying, the way my kids say things leaves a lot to be desired. And I have been wracking my brain on ways to help encourage more grace, both in speech and action. I've tried quiet, loving, little reminders like saying "be gracious" when I would see something rude or verbally clumsy take place, but I was just not getting the results, or the response I wanted. Which brings me to my heavenly little moment yesterday.
While I was sitting...pondering yesterday, I had the idea that for FHE tonight we would have a lesson on charity. We would talk about Jesus and how he was the perfect example of unconditional love...and grace. (I mean when you think about it, Jesus had a lot he could have complained about or gotten angry over...and not dumb things like who gets to use the yellow plate at dinner (you'd be surprised, but this little issue has resulted in many a shouting match...and even the occasional UFC fight) or who gets to watch the T.V. next).
We would discuss how many people said and did mean things to Him, yet He remained "gracious". Though He was surrounded by negative people, people who hated Him, He still found the positive in them.
And then, after discussing Christ and His perfect example we would all take turns telling each other what we like about each other...pay each other compliments. (I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don't think my kids have ever learned how to pay someone a compliment. I never thought it was something you needed to be taught, but apparently it is). The point of this activity being that everyone has something good and positive to offer...you just have to find it. Be positive, uplifting, gracious. And though it may be hard you do it any way becuase it's what is right...it's what Jesus would do.
In my mind I picture the perfect conclusion to our FHE...with the kiddies little halo's restored; shining brightly and perfectly above their little heads. I know that isn't realistic...you can't actually SEE people's halo's.
And, as a final test, I will challenge them to try and see the good in everyone they meet. I will encourage them to practice what we've learned by saying and doing only things that are kind...gracious.
AND...if I see any noticeable improvement by the time we have FHE again we will all go out to FUGI...and practice using our newfound grace (that part wasn't inspired...well, it was inspired by me, or my tummy rather).
I hope it works, cause it's all I got. I'm hopeful. I think they will be motivated...if not to be a better person, than to go out to dinner at least. I'll make sure to post the results.
And, if any of you wise souls have any advice or suggestions that might help my cause, I'd love to hear em.
By the way, have I told you how lovely you look today!!!


A video I found on lds.org that will also be part of FHE. It tugged at my heartstrings...I will not lie. Be prepared to shed a tear...or two.
Example of the Believers

Time Flies.

It just dawned on me that my little Rowan is already eight months old and has been alive for almost as long as I was preggers with her. I also just realized that I haven't bothered commenting on any of her milestones these past months. It's amazing to me that a few months ago this little person only knew how to suck, cry and poop. And to look at her now, eight months later, and see her interacting, and moving and "talking" is really amazing.
So, in honor of my little darling I thought I'd share a list of some of her more notable milestones and newly acquired abilities...in no particular order.

1- Grunting with inflection. This kid can really make a statement with her grunts...there's her "I'm done" grunt, and her "hey, look at me grunt" and her "I'm pooping" grunt. So amazing how she can communicate without using any words.

2- Snot bubble blowing. Note: this is a seasonal skill, and while it may be quite the attention grabber, I'll be glad when it's over.

3- Snot wiping. While many of you might not consider this a noteable ability, I beg you to question...how many eight month olds do you know that can wipe their own nose? The only problem is that my shirt usually serves as the tissue...and what's more, I don't usually notice the unsightly boogie streaks til I'm out in public with no means of tidying up.

4- Human vaccum. This kid has a way with finding all the stray crumbs and awol food bits that fall onto the, uh hum, sanitary floors I allow her crawl upon. But like I always say, better her than the mice...ha, ha, ha...uh hum. And to be honest, the help in clean up is always much appreciated.

5- Melinoma detection. I don't know if this kid has a future in dermatology or what, but she has an uncanny knack for finding all the molies on my body. Then again, they might just look like little chunks of stray food stuck to my skin (refer to number 4).

6- Lip sucking. Occasionally I will become so consumed with adoration that I have to kiss my little nugget on her dainty little lips. And, almost every time I do the kid latches on to my mouth like a leech...albeit the cutest freakin' leech. It's so tender...you should really see it. Anyway, it's just amazing how well her sucking reflex has developed over the past few months.

All right, enough bragging already. I could think of plenty more but I hate to make you all jealous.
I will conclude by saying what a joy the past eight months have been. I will admit that I found myself wondering what I'd gotten myself into before the dear made her grand debut, but having her around has been wonderful. She is such a happy and content baby, which is great because, frankly, she wouldn't get the attention if she needed it. I mean, she would get the attention...I do pay attention to her...I mean it's not like I make her feed herself with leftovers off the floor...wait, I mean...
Anyway, it's been a pleasure having Rowan join our family. I can't believe it's already been eight months. Which can only mean one thing, that time really does fly when you're having a good time.

What's In A Name

A few days ago Quinn's teacher sent home a paper explaining how they would be learning about "famiy heritage" in class. Their assignment was to make a poster explaining a little bit about their ancestry.
Now I will admit that I was quite tickled by this task. In my old age (I'm thirty-three) family history has become more interesting and the quest for information on my predecesors sounded quite adventurous (I don't know why, but I always think of Braveheart). I was excited to scavenge the net and explore the old family records to see what important nuggets of info I might come across. Never in my right mind did I think my greatest life question would be answered...a question I'm reminded of more often than I'd like...on a daily basis almost. That question being, "why are my boys so freakin' violent and turn everything they grab into some kind of weapon (just last night Carter hucked a cork hot pad through air like it was a Chinese star...whatever).
And here's what I uncovered: origins of the Anglo-Saxon name ASHMAN come from its first bearer, an ancient Saxon name which meant WARRIOR OF THE SPEAR. Ash, saxon word meaning spear, and man, meaning man, put together equals, "spearman".
All this time I thought Ashman was referencing the pasty, ashen complexion of my ancient peeps but no...I am decended of something greater...something nobler...something fiercer.
Now suddenly the clouds have parted and the world has become clear to me. No more feeling embarrased about my boys' disturbing affection for all things weapons. No more frustration over them using random, household items as killing devices. No more guilt over believing that I had done something wrong in the upbringing of these two...er, "assertive" boys, because...it's who they are, it's in their blood, for they are Ash "men"...(at least that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it).

Happy Birthday Avery

Today is my third "fruit's" birthday. I'll keep the salutations and reminiscing brief by saying only this. Avery life with you started out...painful, frankly. Your delivery still hurts me to think about it, BUT it was totally worth it. And I'm happy to report that you've caused only minimal pain and anxiety since that time (nothing extraordinary...just the usual child rearing stuff). And although I will never be able to walk the same way again, or be able to jump on a tramp without wetting myself again, the sacrfrice was worth it...because I have you. I love you kid, minitude and all.

My new fave.

So, I have a little preoccupation with music. I'm always searching for new artists, songs etc. to add to my library. Anywho, I was on the way to Target the other day and the song currently spinning in my playlist came on. I loved it from the first chord. I had no idea it was Mika, but since I already love him...
Hope you enjoy. Try not to snap your fingers or tap your foot whilst listening...I dare ya. Oh, and it does drop a teeny, little "h" bomb (hope that doesn't affect our friendship).

Heavy, yet humble heart.

I saw the saddest thing yesterday.
As you are all aware Haiti was recently shaken by a massive earthquake. Consequently the place is utter chaos; I mean how does one really prepare for a disaster like that?
Nevertheless, with sadness in my heart, I was still able to go about my day and function normally. That was, at least, until yesterday.
Last night as I was lying in bed, I started watching news coverage of all the goings on in Haiti. The destruction was unimaginable. Then the news coverage turned to a physician from the states who was holding a fifteen day old infant He was commenting on the newborns condition whose house had collapsed on her, killing her mother. At that moment my heart was broken. It hadn't really sunken in that people, of ALL ages, were affected by this earthquake...even little babies, too young and innocent to comprehend. And at that moment everthing became real for me.
I'm not sure why it took the image of this precious little child to "wake me up". Perhaps it's because I have a little ones myself and a particular soft spot for any newborn. But, at that moment my heart sunk.
I must admit, shamefully, that up until last night I had been more concerned about Simon Cowell leaving American Idol and the hideous headband Victoria Beckham sported while guest judging on said show.
But now I realize that there are so many things going on around me that I do not give proper notice too.
Granted, there's not much I can do for the survivors in Haiti but offer my prayers, but at least it's something.
And I have found comfort in knowing that I am part of a church that is always prepared to help those in need...even in an event as catastrophic as this. I am grateful to be able to pay my tithing, because I know that in my own meager way I am helping the efforts in Haiti. I wish I could do more, but I am comforted to know that I have done something.
I hope that this post doesn't put a damper on your weekend. That was not my intent. I do hope that it will help everyone (myself included) remember just how fortunate we are and how grateful we should feel for our health, our safety, our lives and our ability to serve others...especially those in need of it most.

Zumba-ha ha

So, the old man gave me a gym pass for Christmas. Not the most romantic or personal gift...perhaps even insensitive but I accepted it graciously. Truth be told, I am feeling a little like the hippo from Disney's Fantasia, and after today looking like her too...apparently.
Today I went to Zumba. For those of you who are not famililar with the term allow me to explain...it's essentially dirty dancing, but with just yourself...AND I LOVED IT. Just kidding...but really I did. (Imagine lots of rump shakin' and pelvic thrustin'...movements I am not accustomed to using...but I had fun trying.)
I did my reasearch before attending and sorta knew what I was getting myself into and I wasn't too worried. Back in the day I used to dance and felt quite at home on the dance floor. I was an "enigma" to behold. However, that was a long....long, long, long time ago. So, I tried to prep myself as best I could...channeling my inner J-Lo and I felt ready and up for the challenge.
I had a little bit of nerves in the beginning, but that was mostly due to the fact that I was the fattest one in the class. I pretty much knew my moves could trump everyone in the room, except for maybe the instructors and my friend Deni...but that was only a matter of time.
Anywho, the music came on and I could hear the heavy, rythmical, latin beat
and immediately found myself moving. Things were good...I was doing good so far.
Then the instructor hopped up front and start marching DOUBLE TIME to the beat...squashing my confidence with each hellishly quick step she took. I figured I had nothing to lose (except for a few pounds) and threw all caution to the wind and let loose...trying my best to not look like SYTYCD reject. I have to admit that I did a pretty good job keeping up. Better than some of the seasoned Zumba-ers if you ask me. I didn't pass out once and caught on to most of the movements fairly quickly. I was pretty darn proud of myself for being so daring.
And I'll admit, the thought did cross my mind..."man I wish Chad could have seen me shakin' it just now. He'd be so impressed".(I failed to mention that Chad was actually at the gym with me...not in Zumba thank heavens, but working out elsewhere).
The class ended and I was ecstatic and relieved that I didn't collapse in the middle of a bunch of gyrating women...skinny gyrating women as it were. And I left the class feeling saucy and successful.
I met Chad at the car with my newfound attitude...even adding a little hip action when I opened the door. I hopped up on my seat at just looked at him with my sweaty, smouldering eyes. And then he dropped the bomb..."you're not very coordinated are you?"
I wiped the sultry looked on my face and just stared...real, real hard.
What? Did you not just see me sassin' it up on the floor a few minutes ago, I wondered.
"What do you mean", I asked.
"Well, I stopped by your class a few minutes ago and watched you dance" he shared.
I snapped back into reality and realized that what he had said was maybe a little bit true...okay, probably a lot true. I might have looked a little more like the awkward hippo from Fantasia than a steamy back-up dancer from a Shakira video, but it was only the first day.
So to Chad I say...just you wait, buddy. Just you wait. Pretty soon you'll have your own personal "latin luvva" and you will love it.
And I'm gonna start by having me some chips and salsa.