6:00 AM

is the worst time ever.  It's not that it's early, because, really it's not.  I woke up at 6 am back in my teaching days and my seminary days.  I can survive waking up at 6.  It's really not that early.  But it's just early enough that if one of my kids wakes up at 6, she (let's be honest, it's usually Alice waking up at 6--Rex knows not to leave his room until the sun comes up so he just reads in his closet) can't last the day.

6 am is just at the critical time--it's still dark so really I can convince Alice to get back in her crib, but it's also just late enough that she's had almost enough sleep and a little too much to really go back to sleep.  But there I am anyway at 6 am, pretending like it's 2 am so she won't know that really it's late enough to get up. I just need to rock her and get her to go back to sleep for just 45 more minutes.  Because it's that 45 minutes of sleep that let's her last until after lunch to take a nap.  Without that last partial sleep cycle, nap time is at 10, which is the worst time ever for a nap because that's when all the mom stuff happens--library story time, ward playgroup, everything that gets me out of the house and talking to other adults...oh and that build my children's social interaction skills, I mean.  And when Alice takes a 10 am nap, she wakes up from said nap at noon, which is usually when Rex (and I) have a bit of quiet time, but because Alice is awake, she will not allow quiet time to occur.  And then she's ready for bed at 7, which is just when we're finishing dinner and not quiet ready to be putting kids to bed.

And so twice last week, I found myself huddled in a sleeping bag, half-awake, singing twinkle-twinkle little star while rubbing Alice's back and rocking the La-Z-Boy while my feet slowly, and painfully fall asleep at 6 in the morning.  And yes, I was successful at getting her to go back to sleep both times, but that also meant that I spent my last hour of sleep huddled in a sleeping bag, with my legs and feet asleep and my hips on fire while holding a spitty ball of love because if I dared move, that fragile sleep was broken.

I am thankful for

Today I am thankful for

• running water
• Gregory
• Parker Wheatley
• Brother Scott
• My father in law
• Answers to prayers.

Let's start at the beginning: In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth...ok we won't go that far back but it feels a bit like God has been building up to the last few days for months now.

Greg and I have been looking to buy a house near Uptown Charlotte since August or so.  We looked at several that I just LOVED but just didn't feel right.  Then Greg decided to start his own business, which led him to a new job in Concord (45 minutes from Uptown).  Good on God, glad we didn't buy in or near Uptown.  So we start looking at houses in downtown Concord, which is a lot like the love of my life, Provo.  And then in December a guy in our ward said he was interested in buying the house we currently live in.  Greg and I decided/were inspired by the Spirit to just rent.  Greg's current job is not permanent--2 years tops, after which Greg is hoping to really get a business going with his near-Seattle brother.  Buying just doesn't make sense as we could be anywhere (*Provo*) in two years.  Renting feels right.  So I picked a weekend in May that fit in with me and Rex's school schedules and started looking at rentals just to see what we should expect price wise.

Last Wednesday, my mother in law watched the kids so Greg and I could both go to mutual.  We came home to rain in the house.  For the first time in his life, Rex flushed the toilet and Libby didn't know the magic trick to make it stop running, also Rex had earlier in the day flushed an entire roll of toilet paper.  Libby said it was Heavenly Father telling her to clean out the basement as we mopped up the gallons of water soaking through the ceiling.  I thought, we should just move now.

Sunday morning, I wake up to just a trickle of water.  I brushed my teeth and called the city to come fix the problem.  I then pack a bag and we head to the in-law's house to shower.  We get home 4 hours after my initial call and still no water.  I take the kids to church and Greg investigates.  Working with the guy from the city, he discovers that the problem with the water is somewhere between the mailbox and the house--about 500 feet, and because it's on the property, we have to fix it.  After church, we buy 6 gallons of water, a ton of paper products, and almost simultaneously say, let's just move.

There's nothing like no water to let you know it's time to move.  I'm not usually a big one for signs from the Heavens, but this was definitely a sign.  An exploding toilet one day and less than a week later, no water?  It's time to move on. We've been praying to know what to do, where to go, and when to do it.  I told Heavenly Father I'd like an email with the house we should move into.  Apparently, the God of all Things doesn't haven an email address, but He can break water pipes.  (On a scale of one to ten, how irreverent was that?)  Never the less, our prayers were answered.  We'd be out in less than a week.  And this week would be perfect because I don't even have class.  Good timing God.  Now to pack and find a place to live.

Monday morning, we still have no water.  I start packing.  I make a few calls to look at a few houses.  I keep packing.  Rex takes stuff out of the boxes as I pack.  I yell at him.  I keep packing.  We meet Greg to look at a few houses.  One is beautiful and I love it; the other smells like smoke.  While the one could work, we decide to keep looking.  We still have a few more days to hit the weekend deadline we'd set for ourselves.  Meanwhile, my mother-in-law had a plummer come look for the leak.  He couldn't find it.  He said the best option would be to tear up the old line and put a new line down.  $5,700.  She was not happy. And she still had to pay him $50 for doing nothing.

Tuesday morning.  Day 3 of no water.

 Let me just explain for a minute the implications of not having running water or neighbors--no showers, no washing hands, no flushing toilets, no washing clothes, no washing dishes, no drinking, no cooking.  All meals must be 100% microwaveable  because no dish washing can occur.  We did buy some water.  Enough to drink.  I even used a few gallons to wash the dishes in the sink from Sunday morning's breakfast--back when I thought the water problem would be solved in a few hours.

I take Rex to Joy School and run a few errands with Alice.  Then I get a text from Greg.  He found a house.  The PERFECT house at an amazing price.  Only catch--it's at least 30 days before we can move in but it could be up to 90.  Awesome, but I don't think I can handle a possibility of 90 days--3 months--with no water.  Greg said he was on his way home.  He'd talked to some people at work and had a few ideas of how to find the leak.  Mostly, it involved digging up the line and looking for a leak.  I went to pick Rex up and, being the good wife that I am, recruited the brother of Rex's Joy School mate, Parker, to come help.  Parker's grandpa, Brother Scott, who is a handyman extraordinaire decided to come along too.  Brother Scott assured Greg and my father in law that digging up the line would not be necessary.  There would be water somewhere showing the leak.  So they began looking.  Not too long later, 15-year-old Parker finds the giant 10-foot-wide, bubbling puddle.  Good job Professional Plummer.  They start digging and sure enough, there it is: the broken joint.  That right.  It's just a joint.  Not even the pipe. They don't even have to dig up the whole pipe or cut the pipe, they just have to get a new joint and stick it on.  An hour later, I flushed all the toilets.  Hallelujah!  All in all, including the 2 new shovels Greg bought and the "labor," it cost $110 to fix--but we get to keep the shovels.  The actual part was only $20.  Thanks Professional Plummer.

the hole with broken pipe protruding

And then the water pressure drops again.  Greg replaces the joint again (he decided not to fill the hole back in just in case).  I do a load of laundry and we head out to check out our new place and get dinner.  We come home, the joint had popped off again.  Greg is trying one last time for the night.  So while I have flushed the toilets and done a load of laundry, I still have a dishwasher full of dirty dishes and I still haven't showered since the brief rinse-off I got in between bathing the kids and running to church on Sunday.

Now that we aren't moving this weekend, I've slowed my packing.  I also built a fort for the kids out of the boxes I did pack--I'm not unpacking those just to repack in a month (or so).  We'll just have a sick fort in our living room.  You know you're jealous.  (Also insert comment about how much stuff we have that we don't use/need because it's going to sit in boxes for a few months and we won't miss it--it's mostly baby clothes and holiday decorations).

Our box fort--more pictures coming as I improve it/pack more

Sorry blurry--remember Rex broke my real camera leaving me with just a phone.

All(most) our prayers answered--we (almost) have water, we have a house, we know(ish) when we're moving.

So today I am grateful for

• running water--though I may still be using your shower tomorrow Becky
• Gregory
• Parker Wheatley
• Brother Scott
• My father in law
• Answers to prayers.

(oh wait...I hear water.  I may just yet get a shower today.  *cross your fingers*)

1.12.13

Greg got a new gun this week.  It's some sort of assault rifle.  He had to buy one before they got banned again or else he'd never be able to buy one and then he'd never have an assault rifle again (he had one in high school that he sold to buy a different gun)...and I want a new BOB so I said yes.

We took it out shooting on Saturday.  It's a heavy gun. Of all the guns I shot on Saturday it was the easiest to shoot, but really that's relative.  Greg would know all the number and such to go along with his guns but I'll just tell you a bit about them.  We started off with shot guns.  I shot Greg's Pop's (grandpa) gun.  It threw me back a good 2 inches.  I literally jumped into the air.  Then I shot some smaller shot guns but still didn't hit anything.  

Actually, I didn't hit a single thing all day.  I'm really bad at sports.  (Suspend your non-Southern/hick disbelief a minute here and just roll with me).  Every time the clay would go up for me to shoot I'd get everything lined up and tell myself to keep my eyes open but as soon as my finger pulled the trigger, BAM it was like a steel vault.  I could not get my eyes to stay open.  I missed every shot.  Same reason I can't catch a ball, or kick a ball, or throw a ball, or anything else with a ball.  To be honest, half the time I run with my eyes closed.  Point is: there's a reason I don't play sports that require hand-eye coordination, which apparently also includes shooting.

Back to the shooting.  Next we shot one of Grandpa's old guns.  This was a standard issue World War I rifle.  This thing was crazy.  It made Greg jump so image what it did to me.  Needless to say I didn't hit any of the targets and my spotters (the people who are supposed to tell you where you did hit so you can adjust and hit the second time) were too busy watching me go flying to actually see where I hit.  I shot it twice.  It was a tough gun to shoot, mostly because I was afraid the recoil was going to take my eye out.  I don't know how soldier carried that thing around and were actually able to use it (as a firearm--I could also see it used a as a club) to defend themselves.

Last we shot the AK (the new one).  It was by far the easiest to shoot with the least amount of kick back, but too heavy for me to aim accurately, as if the weight of the gun really makes a difference for me.

My new name at church is (we went with Greg's old scout leader and some other people from the ward) is Fearless because I shot all the guns even though they were bigger than me.  Greg, on the other hand, is Eagle Eye or something like that.  He hit every shot.  Every. Single. Shot.  (Notice I'm trying some new blogger style here--I've never done a serious of single word sentences that are really one sentence but that I separate out to make my point more clearly).

I was the holder of the guns.  They thought this was a pretty funny picture.  Neither gun is loaded , by the way.

To make up for all the Southern-hickness of our Saturday morning date, I made Greg take me to Panera for lunch--nothing like soup and salad to go with your guns.

PS when I first met Greg, he was not like this.  I knew he was from the South, but he didn't have an accent and he got 5's on both of the AP English tests.  I thought of him as a sophisticated Southern.  And then we got married, and he wanted a dog.  Lots of people have dogs.  No red flags, yet.  Then he needed a truck because he needed a truck.  Getting more southern.  Then he needed a dog to put in his truck.  Oh dear.  Then he wanted his guns to target shoot.  I'm starting to worry.  Then he started hunting...it's a slippery slope to Southern hick, one I am earnestly try to steer very far away from for my WEST COAST children.  They, like I, are temporarily displaced in the South.  Nevertheless, I still love Greg.  There are worse things he could do.  Besides in case of the zombie apocalypse we have adequate firearms and at least Greg knows how to use them.

1.7.13

Maybe a year or so ago, my cousin(ish) Laura wrote a blog post about the worst-case-scenario game she plays and gave a specific example of when she was in the shower and then thought of the worst possible thing that could happen while she was in the shower.  Guess what I do whenever I take a shower now?  That's right: worst case scenario.  Not every shower, but every shower I manage to take all alone while the children are awake--don't judge me: Rex figured out how to unlock the bathroom door from the outside and if you've ever heard Alice scream....there's a reason she gets everything she wants.  

Monday afternoon.  I'd just finished cleaning the house--like really cleaning, dusting, mopping, toilet scrubbing, and was showering/cleaning the shower (little trick I learned from my mom), when I realize that not only am I alone in the shower and I'm alone in the bathroom and I can't hear any screaming.  I begin to play the worse case scenario game.  Rex and Alice are both awake and in the play room.  Rex has been fascinate with death and asking lots of questions lately.  While I'm in the shower, Rex puts a blanket over Alice's head and refuses to take it off, thus killing her, but because he's a minor and I was watching him, I get arrested and put in jail.  Greg is obviously very upset with me and takes Rex and divorces me.  I, then, having caused inadvertenly the death of one child and am alone in jail, decide my life is no longer worth living.  And that was all washing my hair.  I skipped the leg-shaving step and got out of the shower due to serious concern about Alice's safetly as I could now hear her complaining unhappily, possibly hurt, about something. 

This is how I found her (see pictures below):  She had followed Rex over a pile of blankets on the corner of the fireplace and then squiggled into a little hole between a corner desk and the fireplace and while Rex could escape, she couldn't.  I pulled her out.  She was fine and was she got out, thought she was pretty clever.  She really does love to hide.  And, according to Rex, I might add, that I must revise something I said about him last week: he was playing with Alice, not me.  They were playing together!  Maybe I should shower more often, then they'll be forced to be friends. 

But I probably won't.  That worse case scenario game is terrifying, even if it turns out my kids were playing nicely together.  

1.7.13

I called our insurance company today to ask a simple question: what is the best way to give you our medical records?  After talking to three different people in three different departments and waiting on hold for what felt like hours, I lean over to Rex, while on hold again, and whisper, "These people are morons." To which he responded, "Let's go over to their house and shank their heads off." And Rex has the shank to prove it.  I laughed.  Yep, I'm a good mom.

Christmas

I know I'm over a week late on this, but I just had a few things I wanted to say.  Mostly that while I felt like a complete Grinch most of the season for reasons previously mentioned, I don't think I ruined Christmas for anyone.  And I think the kids quite enjoyed it.  Rex is almost old enough to really get into Christmas and the greed of it all.  Almost.  We have a few more years of his innocent desire for a single toy before the full fledged tearing through all the presents and then asking "What next?" sets in.  In a way I look forward to it.  As it is now, opening presents is somewhat painful.  Rex asked for one thing--a bow and arrow, which he got from Santa and our Santa doesn't wrap presents so he got that first.  And then he was pretty much done opening presents because he needed to practicing shooting his bow and arrow.  He was excited to open the next few, but we had to get out our parent voices to get him to open the rest.  Alice on the other hand, didn't really care at all.  She spied Autumn's baby, took the baby and was off.  I don't think she opened a single present.  I think Rex opened all hers.  Alice just wanted Autumn's baby.

There were a few things I loved about Christmas this year.  1. Paula Dean's make-ahead, baked French toast.  Awesome.  Greg made it so I can say that (though I found the recipe).  I think this will be a new tradition.  2. Eating out Chinese for dinner.  Thank you Bakers for that tradition.  I love it.   (I'm starting to think that food is the only thing I like about holidays.) 3. Amber and family.

Yeah I still sound like a complete Grinch.  Guess I won't be getting any gifts next year...I do like presents.  I'll work on my Grinch-y-ness.

Can we talk about (a bunch of stuff only grandparents care about but I'm going to write down anyway so I can have it to keep)

Alice.  She is getting so fun now that she's older.  So old.  She still thinks she's 3-years-old just like Rex, but she's also learning how to get along with a very attention needy brother.  Actually she learned that a long time ago, it's just becoming more apparent now.  Alice is super good at playing by herself.  In fact, she almost always plays by herself because Rex is no good at playing by himself or at playing games that Alice likes.  He's very much the product of a mother with one child and nothing to do except worry about how much attention he's getting.  But this paragraph is not about him--it's about Alice.  See how he just sneaks right in there and steals her spotlight?  Alice is still in the habit of taking whatever toy she wants and leaving the room.  Seriously, if Rex and I are playing in the toy room, she'll come get her baby and then go play in the kitchen.  She's also very much so into hiding.  Like last week when she discovered juice boxes.  She drank hers and then found another one in the trash can so she took that one and hid behind the curtains.  So tricky. When I told her to come sit down for lunch, she ran into the bike room and tried to hide behind a pie chest, with empty, trashcan juice box in hand.  My brother in law Travis later cleaned out another trashcan juice box and filled it with water for her.  Thanks.  Her giggling gave her away.  When I tell her to come get dressed, she runs away.  She thinks she is hilarious.  She also has a little spot behind the clothes in our closet.  I found one of Rex's pillows back there today.  Not sure who put it there.  We got her a tent for Christmas.  We took it down when her older cousins came to play.  She got super mad and tried to crawl in without the poles.  We put it back up.  

She's also quite the mom.  Either I am super gendered in my parenting, or in my thinking or boys and girls are just different because Alice loves to be the mom.  She often picks out Rex's clothes and will try to get him dressed.  Seriously.  A few days ago she took his underwear out of my hand and tried to hold it out for him to step into.  She also has several babies that she likes to carry around.  She rubs their backs and gives them bottles (after taking a hit for herself of course).  Speaking of rubbing backs, pick her up, see what she does.  She rubs your back.  She think she's my mom.  

She's also started talking.  I know she's such a genius (or about average, but I'm going with genius).  She says milk (mi), Rex (x), Dad (dadadada), Mom (ma), and cracker (cr).  Of course these are all completely indistinguishable outside of the proper context.

She still just wants what she wants, though she's gotten better at getting it.  She is now in the habit of pulling me around the house by my sweats (what I wears sweats all day, every day, you would too if you had no neighbors...maybe you'd run around naked, at least I get dressed).  She pulled Greg out of Sacrament by his finger today and is now strong enough to push the doors at church open so she also got out of Sunday School.  She also knows where the nursery is and just waits outside, knocking on occasion, to be let in.

She's a hoot and I'm glad we have her.

Alice goes around the house putting anything she can around her neck, hence the play stethoscope as a necklace.

Check out those pigtails.  They lasted 2.5 seconds.

Alice got a bike just like Rex's only smaller for Christmas.  She rode it to the mailbox with me the other day.  We're still looking for a helmet in her size.  Yes, I make my kids wear helmets while riding their tricycles.  Rex has fallen off and hit his head before.

 Rex.  Rex is just about the silliest kid I know.  Like all the time.  When I asked him why he came into my bed last night he told me, and I quote, "Because you needed someone to cuddle you and Greg doesn't cuddle at night."  That's right, he calls his father Greg.  He thinks that's pretty funny.  He started Sunbeams today and was so excited to go to the big Primary.  He really wants to go up on the stand and sing.  He said he was good and learned about being reverent but that he was sad because he didn't get called on.  I asked him if he raised his hand and he said yes.  I asked him what he wanted to say and told him he could tell me, all whiling thinking to myself, "Look what a good mom I am.  He didn't get a chance to answer a question about being reverent today so I'll let him tell me and then we can talk about being reverent.  Man, I'm a good mom."  What did Rex say?  "I just wanted to tell them about my bow and arrow."  Awesome.  Well there went that teaching moment.

He's also very sweet.  His favorite thing to do: cuddle.  If we don't have any plans, Rex will sit in my lap like a baby for 45 minutes or more in the morning.  He just likes to be held.  And loved.

Speaking of love.  Rex is in love with his babysitter.  A few nights about I told him that Alyssa was going to watch him so Greg and I could go see Les Mis.  As I tucked him and said, "I love you."  He said, "I love Alyssa "  Awesome.  Alyssa later reported to me that he made her get in bed with him...I do worry about him and dating.

Rex, like Alice, is a hoot and we're glad we have him too.

Rex in heaven.  Unlike Alice, he is still a baby and likes to take baths in the sink.  He's in the goo Amber got him for Christmas.

Rex wants to be just like his daddy.  They got matching pocket knives for Christmas.  Don't worry, Rex's is wood.  Though Greg did sharpen it for him.  Thanks Babe.