Confession #2

I was deprived as a child.

I had a mother who cared about me, and thus my lunch consisted of a wheat-bread PB&J sandwich, a thermos of kool-aid, and a bag of pretzels. If it was the holidays and we happened to have candy around, then maybe I would have a tootsie roll.

It is for this reason alone that I am still in the middle of my White-Bread Rebellion which started 7 years ago when I moved out of the house. Brady was raised on wheat-bread also, and doesn't seem to have much of a problem with eating wheat-bread himself. (If this doesn't illustrate the children Brady and I were, I don't know what does.) However I did open his eyes to truly good cereal, which lead to Brady's on-going Cinnamon Toast Crunch Rebellion. Sorry, Judy.

Back when we actually had money, I also staged a Fruit Gushers Rebellion. But logic finally got the best of me when I realized all of my elementary school friends who had those in their fancy little lunchboxes must've been filthy rich. So I got over that and realized I liked yogurt better anyway.

But I'm still not over the wonderful taste of a PB&J on white bread. And my child is still not old enough to see his mother for the hypocrite she truly is--because you see, I force him to eat wheat bread.

He can ruin his arteries on his own dime.

Confession #1

Maybe I've just seen one Law & Order: SVU episode too many--but everytime I see an ice cream truck in a parking lot, I always look inside for abducted children.

Just today in the Walmart parking lot, I checked an ice cream truck. No children inside, but I did notice he was charging a dollar for canned soda--which should also be a crime.

The Rejects

One of the great things about having children is that your Christmas present to your parents can be a photo of your child, and they're perfectly happy with that. Because who wouldn't want 3 5x7s of Landon hanging in their home? Answer me that.

Anyway.

So on Saturday, Brady and I headed to Sears to have them work their magic on our wiggly photo subject.

As the pictures we actually bought are Christmas presents for Grandparents, Great-grandparents, and Auntie Sada and Mech--I will not reveal those at this time.

But here are the rejects.
(Excuse the poor, unedited photo quality. I stole them from the website.)

Although this one was cute--for some reason his legs ended up looking short in proportion to his body. Maybe the fact that his pants don't slip over his ginormous shoes. Or maybe he's just disproportionate. Or maybe I am. Who knows.
Cute. But hello white socks! Note to mom-self: Buy brown socks!

This next one just makes me sad because it screams school kindergarten picture to me. As much as I would like Landon to potty-train (YEAH RIGHT) I'm not ready for him to look like a kindergartener yet.

Although I was really REALLY tempted to gift this next one (to my sisters mostly), I think it's obvious why I didn't.

Despite my harsh critique of these, the un-rejected ones are absolutely perfect, and I can't wait to show them to you all--after Christmas of course!

Receiving Answers

I don't know what it is about pregnancy that causes a lot of deep reflection on my part. Maybe it's the time spent laying on the couch in nauseous misery. Maybe it's the humility I'm reminded of as I've had to ask more people for help in the past 3 months than perhaps my whole life entirely. Maybe it's the thought of expanding our family; reflection on the last time; what I want to change this time; what I don't want to change. Maybe it's all of those things.

This past weekend I spent at my parents' house. My mother asked me if I have a theory about our venture into the world of adoption 2 years ago. I told her I have not only one theory, but two. This didn't really surprise her. Or me for that matter.

Theory #1 is that it is meant to be--that we never would've considered adoption if we had at least two children of our own genetics. But with a completed homestudy and a nonrefundable downpayment in the hands of LDS Family Services, that door is always open to us. So maybe this was some unborn child-of-the-future's way of somehow working themselves into our home.

Theory #2 is that it was a timing issue--that after receiving the news that conceiving would be "almost impossible" for us, that I needed some hope. I needed a project to work on. I needed a cause to stand behind. I needed to feel that despite my body's inability to produce offspring, that I was fighting to have children in our home. We completed our homestudy while our Reproductive Endocrinologist (isn't that a fancy term!) did a drug trial on Brady. I was absolutely convinced it wasn't going to work, and rather than face a childless existence and melt into a complete depression, the Lord gave me another path to wander down for awhile.

At this point in my life, I am completely fine with either theory working its way into my reality. To be completely honest though, I would have to feel completely prompted to delve into Theory #1--for no other reason other than I would feel awful taking someone else's chance to be a parent of even one child, when I will already have at least two of my own. I wouldn't just do that on a whim.

But either way, adoption will always have a special place in my heart. After seeing family members and friends complete the process several times, it never ceases to remind me that our Heavenly Father looks after His children. After struggling with infertility for four years, I felt alone. I felt abandoned. I felt useless. I felt wronged. I felt there must be some reason the Lord had withheld the blessings of parenthood from me. Would I be such a bad mother? Couldn't I do better than at least a few people if given the chance? Why could teenagers get pregnant at the drop of a hat when they didn't even want to?

One of the answers to these questions came while sitting in an adoption meeting while completing our homestudy. I sat there listening to birthmothers explain their experience and how their lives had been changed because they had chosen adoption--how they had been able to find the Lord again in their lives with more purpose, how they had been able to forgive themselves much quicker because they saw the joy they were able to bring to a couple who could not do it for themselves. And suddenly I noticed that there were two sets of people in adoption that needed help. The infertile couple was the obvious one. But the birthmother was in an equally dire situation. And it was after observing the beautiful way the Lord works to bring the two together, the way something marvelous was able to be achieved from two seemingly hopeless situations, the Spirit whispered to me: I haven't abandoned you. I have a plan for all of my children, if they'll just turn to me. And I have a plan for you.

And I believed Him that time. Three months later I found out I was pregnant. Three days after that I got a letter in the mail informing us of our approved homestudy. Whether the Lord means for us to adopt at some point or if it was just a learning time for me, I still have yet to find out.

As I drove back from my parents' house this weekend, I contemplated the past two years since then. I asked the Lord (for the 3,000th time) why, if He had the power to bless me with a pregnancy so quickly this time, why oh why didn't He do it the first time? I don't know why the Lord decided to clue me in on some of these reasons now, but He did.

Some are of course too personal to share. The Lord had deliberate meaning in the timing of both of my pregnancies. They each taught me a lesson about something entirely different, and yet the same. Each time the Lord kept any deal or promise he made me to me. Some of those involving Landon I have shared before. And maybe someday I'll talk about this pregnancy, too.

But as I drove asking the Lord questions, a clear thought came to my mind. Amy, don't you see that you would've been a completely different person if you had gotten pregnant 6 years ago? In my mind I clearly saw the person I would've been--more specifically the mother I would've been. And it was completely different. And I immediately knew He was right--about everything. I also immediately knew that if He had told me this while I was suffering those many years, I wouldn't have understood. I wouldn't have believed it. I would've pleaded with Him to bless me anyway despite knowing better.

Am I a perfect mother now just because I had to wait? Absolutely not. (I mean, really. Do you read my blog? My son is crazy.) I can't really explain the difference except to say that through those years of longing, I already understood the importance of motherhood, but I did not yet grasp the sacredness. It is a subtle difference, but worth noting nonetheless.

I still don't fully comprehend this concept. I'm still impatient. I'm still selfish. I still struggle on a daily basis to juggle all the moving pieces in my life without making myself feel too guilty for knowing that I could do so much better. But what I understand now that I wouldn't have ever understood then is this: The Lord not only has a plan for me, but I much prefer that plan to my own.

Whatever that plan is.

A Veteran's Day Visit to Brady's Iraq Picture Archive

If you didn't know, Iraqi's are short:


Riding in the back of a truck, all geared up.

Super cool shades.

Soldiers very busy. Very busy playing Halo.

Glad he wasn't in this truck:
Or this one:

A mustache, Brady? Really?
In the plane on the way to Iraq:

Brady knows how to drive big trucks. And yet I once accidentally forgot this and insulted him by asking him if he could handle driving a Uhaul...


I'm not quite sure what he's doing on this tank, since he's not a "gun bunny"--but still a cool picture.

Here is what he spent most of the time doing--loading and unloading parts. His back will never be the same...

If you didn't know any better, you would be scared of him, wouldn't you?

I wouldn't mess with him either--if I didn't know him as well as I do.

Coming home...

Finally.

Happy Veteran's Day!

Top Three...

...things I loved today.

1. We've been trying to make an effort to do toddler-appropriate Family Home Evenings--and so far it is going really well! (If anyone needs ideas--there's this whole archive site of coloring pages from The Friend--ldscoloringpages.net. If anyone has ideas or good websites, please share!!) Last week we played a matching game--here's the print-out I found online:

Since my almost-18-month son is probably not a pro yet at the game Memory, I modified it a bit. I taped one set face up on the wall. I pre-taped the other set and stuck them to the table, so Landon could choose one at a time and walk to the wall to find the match. Although I'm sure he learned absolutely nothing about The Creation, it was still fun to spend time with him. And it of course gave us reason to have dessert.

Tonight we did this activity. Landon of course got to color the pages first--then he "helped" me laminate it and put it together in book form. Then we read it. But like I said before, I'm sure he learned absolutely nothing about Reverence because during the closing prayer he was being as loud as possible to deliberately drown out Brady--which then made Brady and I laugh hysterically, thus resulting in the most irreverent prayer our small family has ever had. But for the record--Landon's arms were folded the whole time. Boo yah!

2. That all being said I'm especially inspired by the following quote from Elder Bednar's talk from General Conference:

"Sometimes Sister Bednar and I wondered if our efforts to do these spiritually essential things were worthwhile. Now and then verses of scripture were read amid outbursts such as “He’s touching me!” “Make him stop looking at me!” “Mom, he’s breathing my air!” Sincere prayers occasionally were interrupted with giggling and poking. And with active, rambunctious boys, family home evening lessons did not always produce high levels of edification. At times Sister Bednar and I were exasperated because the righteous habits we worked so hard to foster did not seem to yield immediately the spiritual results we wanted and expected.

Today if you could ask our adult sons what they remember about family prayer, scripture study, and family home evening, I believe I know how they would answer. They likely would not identify a particular prayer or a specific instance of scripture study or an especially meaningful family home evening lesson as the defining moment in their spiritual development. What they would say they remember is that as a family we were consistent.

Sister Bednar and I thought helping our sons understand the content of a particular lesson or a specific scripture was the ultimate outcome. But such a result does not occur each time we study or pray or learn together. The consistency of our intent and work was perhaps the greatest lesson—a lesson we did not fully appreciate at the time."

3. I'm still laughing at the following photos Brady took of Landon today while I was checking my email earlier:

The Break-out

Let me re-cap our morning for you:

7:00am--Brady is almost ready to go to school, putting his books in his backpack.
7:01am--I hear Landon on the baby monitor, waking up. I decide to let him rustle around for a minute before I get him. (He's not really a morning person.)
7:03am--Brady is in the living room putting on his shoes. Landon's bedroom door opens. Out walks Landon. "Dada!" he exclaims.
7:04am--Brady brings him into our room and says, "Did you let Landon out of his crib?" Of course, the answer was no.

Upon further investigation, we cannot conclude how Landon got out of his crib. We have never seen him attempt to escape from his crib, but somehow this morning he woke up with determined resolve to get out of there, not only quickly, but quietly.

Currently The Fugitive is taking a nap, and I am sitting at the edge of my blogging seat, waiting to see if he can actually recreate his escape upon awakening. We are crossing our fingers that this was some sort of fluke-accident and that we don't have to convert the crib to a toddler-bed just yet... but chances are, it will be sooner rather than later like we had planned. Oh well.

Speaking of The Fugitive--he was weighed and measured yesterday, just a few days before his 18 month "birthdate." Despite his bird-like eating patterns, he has managed to grow 4 inches and put on 2 pounds in the past 3 months putting him at:

30 pounds, 2 ounces=95% percentile for weight
34 inches=85% percentile for height

I promise. He really is genetically our child.

Speaking of weight gain--I just finished catching up on last week's episode of Biggest Loser. (I haven't seen yesterday's yet, so don't say anything!) Why is it that everytime I watch that show I bawl like a baby??

Does anyone else?
Does anyone else even watch it?