The Right Person in the Right Place: A Note to Young Women on Marriage

I met my husband when I was 18 years old. I had just graduated high school and moved to college. We met at a meeting for the track team that we were both a part of. He had just returned home from his mission, and though we became instant friends we didn’t start dating until a few months later. From the time of our first date, it was only 3 months until we were engaged. A few weeks after we started dating, I knew I had very strong feelings for him and so I started praying constantly to know whether he was someone I could be with forever, as well as fasting and attending the temple looking for guidance from my Heavenly Father. I remember the moment I knew. We were in the living room of my apartment watching a movie. I was sitting with my head lying on his shoulder and I had such an overwhelming feeling come over me that he could and would make me happy forever. It was such a strong, warm and comforting feeling and I will never forget it. When he proposed a couple of months later, I didn’t even hesitate for a second to tell him yes.

We were engaged for 5 months. About a month before the wedding I was preparing to go through the temple and finishing up some last minute wedding details. I went for a weekend with some friends to another friend’s wedding, and during that weekend that I was away I began to feel so dark and alone. I can’t explain the way I felt. I still don’t fully understand it. I felt physically sick and couldn’t shake a dark feeling inside of me. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t find comfort. A good friend there gave me a priesthood blessing of peace and comfort, and following the blessing I had a very distinct impression that what I had been feeling was Satan’s influence. I am confident that he was very aware of the choice that I was making to go receive the blessings of the temple and to be sealed to a wonderful man for eternity. And he was doing everything in his power to stop me from doing it. With the power of the priesthood, I was able to overcome those feelings and proceed with my temple marriage.

The day I was sealed in the temple is one of the most sacred and special memories that I hold. Though the day was a blur, I will never forget the feelings of peace, joy and comfort that I felt as I was surrounded by my family and the man I love, being sealed to him for time and all eternity.

Marriage is not easy. Don’t let anyone fool you into thinking it is. I’m hopelessly in love with my dear husband. He is a wonderful husband, the best father, a hard worker with a sense of humor. He’s everything that was ever important to me and is important to me now. And it’s still hard to be married to him. We disagree about things on occasion, and when those times come I am so grateful that we have similar goals and priorities in our lives in relation to the gospel. At the end of the day, we both know that our home and marriage is centered on Christ. When we remember that, it becomes easier (or sometimes just less important) to see eye-to-eye.

A few years into our marriage, my husband and I encountered a major obstacle in our desire to start a family. We struggled through years of infertility, and I mean we really STRUGGLED. During those times, we relied heavily on the knowledge that we would be together forever because we were sealed in the temple. Additionally, the temple promises that we would one day have children (whether in this life or the life to come) brought us some comfort. Now we have 3 young, healthy and happy children and our lives are so different from what they were during those times of extreme trial. And still, our temple marriage is of utmost important to me. Seeing these tiny, beautiful little ones run around, I can’t imagine not having them with me forever. Because of my temple marriage, I don’t have to worry about that. The family is indeed of God, and I am so grateful that I will have mine with me forever.

Who you marry and where you choose to marry him will have a huge impact on your life. It may well be the biggest decision you will ever make. That’s not to scare you, but rather to encourage you to use dating as a time to find someone who makes your heart sing. Someone who lives the same kind of life that you live. Who wants the same things as you want. Don’t settle. Please, please, please don’t settle. Marry the right person in the right place and you will be well on your way to a joy-filled life.

Much love and best wishes for happiness!

Stepping Up

Lately I've been feeling like I'm in survival mode (again. See my previous experience here). Though I guess when you have three kids under two, the only mode is survival mode. We're lucky if any of us are dressed before 10 AM. I finally gave the baby a bath today after a week and a half of baby grime started to smell. I have however nearly completed a 1000 piece puzzle and watched far too many episodes of MASH. Survival at it's finest.

So here I was going along thinking life was hard. And then I was looking through my journal and I came across a talk I had written for church 10+ years ago about my paternal grandparents. They were absolutely incredible people. And if I thought my life was hard - wow. My grandmother was absolutely stunning. Just gorgeous. I'm sure she had scores of boys chasing after her, but she fell for my grandpa, who was pretty good-looking himself. They married young, and at age 16 my grandmother was diagnosed with severe rheumatoid arthritis. I can't imagine getting that diagnoses at all, let alone at such a young age. Despite her crippled hands, she faithfully raised six children (5 of whom were boys, and after my brief experience raising a boy, I have some major respect for her). When my grandpa was 52, he broke his neck in a tragic accident and was paralyzed from the waist down. I hadn't been born yet, and so I never knew my grandpa without his wheelchair. Even so, he was the strongest man I have ever known. I vividly remember his hands. As worn and crippled as my grandmother's were, his were large and strong. When my grandma struggled to open cans or brush her hair, grandpa's hands were there to fill in the gaps.

Grandpa loved to garden. They planted their rows of fruits and vegetables far apart so that grandpa's wheelchair could fit in between. I remember going out with him and he'd let me pick fresh strawberries and eat them right there. That was heaven to little four-year-old me. Even as a very little girl, I was awed and amazed by my grandparents. There was never anything they couldn't do together. Grandpa was particularly fond of a story told by Elder Boyd K. Packer, titled "Equally Yoked Together." It's a story of two small, skinny looking oxen defeating a pair of much larger and much stronger oxen in a pulling contest. While the large, strong animals lacked coordination, the smaller team had great teamwork and pulled together at the same time. My grandparents' legacy has become being equally yoked and pulling together. When I think of their lives and trials, it is clear that it would have been much simpler for them to just survive. To forget going to church or gardening or hosting big family get-togethers. But they didn't just survive. Despite their incredible challenges, they thrived. And they were able to do it because they were equally yoked.

Recently I attended a graduation where the speaker re-told a familiar story of a mule who falls into the well. The farmer, instead of trying to lift the mule out, decides to bury him inside of the well. The mule becomes determined to conquer his challenge by telling himself that with every shovel full of dirt that falls, he will shake it off and step up. Eventually, by moving the dirt underneath himself instead of letting it remain on top of him, he finds his way to freedom. What could have buried and killed him ended up liberating him instead, all because of his attitude and determination to keep going.

The story of the mule and my memories of my grandparents have made me determined to do more than just survive. Sure, life is hard. Sure I have three very young children that require a lot (ok, ALL) of my time and attention. But that doesn't mean I have to let the rest of my life fall to shambles. Life is what we make of it. It will never be perfect or easy or trial-free. I don't want to spend every single day waiting for it to end. Life is good and we have so much to LIVE for! Not just to survive for.

So my goal is no more survival mode. Living life to it's fullest every day. Laughing instead of crying, and finding joy in the journey.

It's About Time

It's been a rough month. Juliet is a perfect little angel, thank goodness. She NEVER cries, she sleeps 10-12 hours at night, and she naps most of the day. Sometimes I forget I have a third child because she's so quiet. Caroline is funny and spunky and a little crazy, but she is a people pleaser and she loves helping me with the baby, throwing away diapers, cleaning up toys etc. But she is also newly potty trained. Potty training her was a piece of cake, actually, but now that she is potty trained we have to plan our day around when she needs to use the restroom. But still, Caroline's pretty easy to handle. Charlie, on the other hand, is hitting a rough stage. He was doing so well with potty training, and then he got really sick and now he wants nothing to do with the toilet. Actually that's a lie, he's fascinated with flushing the toilet and climbing on top of it. Just not sitting on it. So he's back in diapers, which is fine. He's not even 2 yet. I'm afraid, though, that he's entering the "terrible two's" much sooner than I had anticipated. He's mastering the art of tantrum throwing with incredible skill. He's not sleeping quite as well as he used to, so it seems like he's always tired, and he only ever wants ME. On rare occasions he's clingy to Forrest, but he almost exclusively only wants Mommy. It's completely exhausting.

And then you put Charlie and Caroline together.. and sometimes I consider it quite a miracle that we are all still alive. My daily dialogue goes something like this:

Get down!

Be soft with the baby.

Don't play in the toilet.

Please get off the dresser.

Don't climb over the back of the couch.

Could you put all of the spoons back in the drawer?

Don't throw food.

Charlie let go of her hair!

Caroline don't bite!

Where are your glasses?

Do you need to go potty?

Get down!

Don't climb on the counter.

Where did you get those scissors?

What is all over your face?

Why is the floor all wet?

No, we can't go outside, it's raining.

Hopefully daddy will be home soon.

Please stay in your crib.

Don't push buttons.

Get down!

Just imagine all of that being repeated 1,000 times per day. Meanwhile the twins' dialogue:

Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. 

Nummy?

Milk!

Treat?

Snack?

Outside!

Oh no.

Ooh a puppy!

Bird! Tweet tweet.

Toot toot!

Slow feet... Quick feet!

Toastie!

A B C...

Mommy? Mom. Mom. Mommy!

Daddy work.

A baby! Hi JuJu.

I love you.

Apple! Nana! Snack!

Dressed? Tubby?

Brush teeth.

Ouchie! Hair!

Ouchie! Bite!

(Mischievous giggling as they move chairs to the counter and climb up before I can catch them)

No no no.

Roar! Woof! Meow! Moo! Monkey!

They are hilarious. But I think they could quite easily keep 5 adults hopping. I absolutely cannot keep them off the kitchen counter. I've occasionally had to resort to drastic measures to keep them safe. These include putting all of the kitchen chairs out on the back patio, putting Charlie and Caroline on top of the kitchen table and moving all of the chairs away so they can't get down, tipping all of the chairs upside down in the living room (but that doesn't really work, they can still tip them back over and move them), and finally just clearing every unsafe or breakable item off of the counter top and giving up on trying to stop them from getting up there.

I had a bit of a paradigm shift the other day. I was spending the late afternoon as I usually am, trying to make dinner and pick up the house before Forrest gets home. The kids were up to their usual climbing and terrorizing activities. Once I eliminated all climbing opportunities, the crying and tantrum throwing began. Mostly from Charlie, but Caroline was also joining in. I was just about to my breaking point (my ears were ringing from all the screaming and hollering), when I decided to sit down and read them a book. And then there was instant peace. Sitting there on the floor in our disastrous living room, one child on each side of my lap and reading "Chicka Chicka Boom Boom" for the 7,659th time, I felt a sudden spirit enter our home where the contention had gone. 

Dinner didn't get made that night. I think Forrest ended up making us a batch of pancakes instead. The house wasn't spotless, or even sort of tidy. But I was happy and my children were happy. And most importantly, I was finally making them feel like they were more important than dinner and a clean house. And they are. No comparison.

Later that night I was listening to a few General Conference talks from sisters who mentioned how they wished they had spent more time playing with their children and less time worrying about the endless to-do lists.

Not that dinner and a clean house aren't important. They are important to me, and I know they are important to Forrest. And hopefully, most days I will be able to make dinner, have a clean house, and have happy children. But not all days. And on those harder days, I hope I always choose my children and settle for eating a bowl of cereal for dinner. 

You know those cheesy yet insightful Mormon-ad commercials where the dad is super busy and his son keeps asking him to play catch, and then finally the dad stops his work and plays with his son, and the commercial wraps up by saing "Family - isn't it about TIME?" Like I said, a little cheesy. But so so true. 

Here's to recommitting myself to being a better mom. To being more concerned about my family and the time we spend together than about keeping my home in perfect order. To giving my children more of my time. And to being happier because of it.

How He Works

When I was on the track team in college, I clearly remember making it to the half-way point in some incredibly difficult workouts and, despite our sheer exhaustion, a few of us bursting into an off-key rendition of Bon Jovi's "Livin on a Prayer." And that's how I'm feeling today - halfway there and living on a prayer. Forrest has been gone for 5 weeks, and in 35 days we get to see him again, hooray!

You know those days when you wake up early, feeling well-rested and refreshed, and everything goes right for you that day? Well today was not one of those days. I'm finally into my second trimester and I had been feeling much better lately. And then last night happened. It was a rough one filled with a lot of sickness and very little sleep (by me, not the babes. They did great). When I finally dragged myself out of bed I thought the day would be better, because it usually is. But it wasn't. What do you eat when you can't keep anything down? Usually my go-to is ice cream (I know - don't tell my midwife), but even that wasn't working today.

Enter amazing heaven-sent mother-in-law. She kindly checks on me often, and when she discovered I wasn't feeling well today she arrived with a full meal on hand, complete with still-warm-from-the-oven cookies. I couldn't eat much of it, but it was so kind and thoughtful and took the stress off of me to make dinner for the babes. And then as if that wasn't enough, she continued to wash my dishes, clean my kitchen, and pick up the living room. I know, she's incredible.

I am continually in awe of how in-tune with the Spirit people are. I had multiple offers for help today (many of which I gratefully accepted) and had some fresh bread delivered by a neighbor. It is such a testament to me that our Heavenly Father is aware of each of us and what we need, and he works to meet our needs through other people. I am so grateful for those people who have acted when I was in need, even when I wasn't aware of what I needed myself. People are good. And our Father in Heaven is so loving.

One time when I was a teenager, our family piled into my dad's car to make the 13 mile trek home from my grandparents' house. There were more of us than there were seatbelts, so my parents sat in the front and all the girls (I think there were only 4 of us) loaded into the back seat. It was a slightly foggy evening, but everything else seemed normal. The first half of the drive was quite uneventful. And by uneventful I mean that someone probably had their bum pinched, another likely suffered an attack from the tickle monster, and there may even have been a "full-moon" sighting. But let's stick to the facts. Four girls in the back seat makes for a fun time. As we rounded the corner into our little hometown, Ashley suddenly pushed Carlia's head down, opened and closed the car door quickly, and shouted, "Oh no, Carlia fell out of the car!" We all laughed, and my dad jokingly slammed on the brakes. I mean slammed on the brakes hard. So hard that my mom started giving him a hard time. And then the fog in front of us cleared, and less than 10 feet from where our car had skidded to a stop stood a giant black-as-night cow. Right in the middle of the road. There is absolutely no way that my dad could have or would have seen it if we had continued driving. The car went silent, and right then and there I became very aware that our Heavenly Father is aware of us, and that He works in mysterious ways.

I think the way the Spirit speaks to us is different from person to person and from situation to situation. In this case, Ashley and my dad may have been acting on impressions that they thought were silly at the time. But they didn't seem so silly as we sat looking at that cow that could have caused some serious harm to, if not killed, my family. I believe that as we live our lives in line with our Savior, our thoughts and the promptings of the Spirit become one. I am so grateful for those who have listened to their thoughts and the whispers and impressions of the Spirit to reach out to my little family when we've been in need. My point? Act. Always act. Even if the impression seems silly or you are afraid of what people will think. No bad can ever come of sending a text message, making a phone call, visiting a friend or taking a dinner. So go and do.

Absent

It's been a slightly crazy summer, to say the least. And I feel like I've been totally absent from my normal life - whatever "normal" is. A few weeks ago Forrest was sent to California on a work assignment for three weeks. So I spent most of that time at my mom's house. It's just easier that way. And since he got home it's been a whirlwind of "do this" "go here" and "run there." It's all been fun and wonderful, just crazy. 

Last week Forrest joined the National Guard. It's a decision we've thought about and prayed about for quite a while, and it just felt like the right thing to do. Do I like it? No, not particularly. I don't think any wife, mother, sister etc. can say she's ever really excited about a man joining the military. But it feels right, and that's nice. It's also good to see Forrest excited about something. He doesn't love his job, and that wears on him a lot. But he does love the military. He's always been so fascinated by it, so I am happy for him that he is getting to do something he will enjoy (hopefully). There are good things about the military - benefits, extra pay etc. But there is one part I am dreading, and it's only about three weeks away: Basic Training. He leaves August 5, just days before our 6th wedding anniversary and the twins' 1st birthday. And he'll be gone until mid-October. :/ Eek! What am I going to do in his absence?

I honestly have no idea. As much as I'd love to, I can't just abandon my life in Salt Lake and move to my mom's. The twins sleep SOOO much better in their own beds. And we have therapy and doctor appointments and bills and things that I just need to be here to do. But I don't want to be alone for that long either. I just keep telling myself I'll take it one day at a time until the 70 days are up. 70. That's not too bad, right? 

In other news, we just got back from our first camping trip with the twins. We went to Idaho Falls with the Whiting family and we had a total blast. I think we a little bit cheated on the "camping" part because we stayed in cabins, had bathrooms and showers, and ate out for a few of our meals.. but we were surrounded by dirt, we roasted hot dogs and s'mores, and I didn't wear makeup or do my hair. So we'll call it camping. The babes did really well, considering that it was 1,000 degrees and they didn't get to nap much. They loved to play in the dirt, crawl around the cabin, and eat everything they could find off the ground. Charlie even got his first taste of dead moth, yummm! (I know - I'm still completely disgusted by it). And Caroline took her first step! It was adorable and I know they're both getting so close to walking, but I am in no hurry. I'm sure parts of walking twins are easier - but all I can think is that I'm going to have to be the leash mom. And I don't want to be the leash mom. I'm trying to gear myself up for the havoc they will wreck once they figure out how to walk and then run. Heaven help me. 

We had a few other "firsts" on our camping trip. Caroline learned how to bark like a dog. Now she thinks every animal (real or fake) is a dog, so she barks anytime she sees one. Half of the time I think she thinks peple are animals because she barks at them too. It's the cutest thing ever. Charlie got to ride on his first roller coaster (he sat on my lap on a little one at Bear World) and he thought it was the best thing ever. He had a major perma-grin and he cried when we got off. 

We took both babes on a little train ride and they were completely thrilled. And they LOVED the petting zoo. Caroline liked to watch the animals from a distance, but Charlie wanted to hold them and eat them and grab them.

He got to pet a deer and he couldn't get enough. He laughed right out loud when the deer licked him feet and arms. It had fuzzy antlers and he loved to pet them. We had a blast!

We also decided it was time to get convertible car seats. Char and Care are so tall that they've outgrown the height limit on their infant car seats. It took us a while to make them fit rear-facing, because they are giant, but we finally got them secured. And I think the babes like them!

We weaned Caroline from her pacifier last week and she actually handled it very well. It's nice to not have to worry about taking one with us everywhere we go, and trying to keep them clean. That dolly she is holding has taken the place of her pacifier. She LOVES it! Her Aunt Sara gave it to her and she hugs it and kisses it and sleeps with it and takes it with her everywhere she goes. It's fun to see her get that excited over a toy!

This is one of their favorite places to play in our home. They were beyond excited to be back in their own house and be able to crawl freely without having to worry about getting stickers in their hands and knees. Our vacation was a blast, but it is always nice to be home again. I'm ready for things to be normal again - at least for the next three weeks! 

My Dad, the Baker

If my dad had a real job description, it would be something like technical support/professor/product shipment specialist. But at home, his job description is a bit different. It ranges anywhere from expert mechanic to professional napper, and includes jobs like floor tiler, gun extrordinaire, and wood worker. And for those who know him the best, there is one job that he loves more than any other: baking. Ok, I joke a little. He probably loves guns the most. But seriously, he bakes more than anyone I know (besides perhaps my mother-in-law).

My dad makes the best bread in the world. And he's quite proud of that fact. Any time a guest walks into his home, his first item of business is to head to the kitchen to make them some bread. He also makes his own strawberry jam and beautiful wood cutting boards that he can send with the bread when he delivers it. It is simply the best.

He makes cookies too. This is a more recent development, but it started when he would stop at Maverik every day on his way to work for breakfast. And he would get a package of peanut butter cookies, which cost him probably $0.99 every day. But in his problem solving mind, he couldn't handle paying a dollar a day for something that he could make better and cheaper himself. So he started making giant batches of delicious peanut butter cookies to take to work, and he generously shares them with all of us. (Actually, I'm not sure he is aware that he shares them..)

In short, my dad is the most wonderful person on the planet. If I was stranded on a desert island and I could pick one person to help me get off the island, it would be my dad. Because I honestly believe there is nothing that he can't do. He is a complete genius (I'm serious, his brothers nicknamed him Eddison when he was a kid because he could invent just about anything there was to invent).

And more than his brilliant mind, my dad is kind and patient. It takes a special sort of a man to raise five daughters, and when we were kids we terrorized him. I remember someone shaving his head with my mom's razor while he was napping in the bathtub. And covering his face and head with lipstick during another afternoon nap. And climbing up his back and stepping on his head every single night while he "slid" me into bed. Best dad ever.

I am so grateful to have had a worthy Priesthood holder in my home for my entire life. My father has been and continues to be such a blessing to me. And that is a tradition that was passed on by his loving, courageous and hard-working father; as well as by my mom's dad. My Grandpa Giles, or "Grampsy," as he is affectionately known, is my only living grandparent. I am so grateful and blessed that Charlie and Caroline are able to know him and spend time with him, because he is an absolutely incredible man. I learn something from him every time I am with him. We all love him dearly. And now that I am married I am so blessed to have a fantastic husband who also honors his Priesthood. Forrest is the most wonderful dad I ever could have picked for our children. He is perfectly their father, and perfectly my husband.

Today in Sacrament Meeting, the Primary children went to the front to sing to their fathers for Father's Day. They sang some darling songs with actions and smiles, and then they ended with one of my favorites, "Teach Me to Walk in the Light." On the second verse they had all the men in the congregation stand and sing with them. Tears flooded into my eyes as I looked around the chapel and all the Priesthood brethren, standing and singing with the children "Come little child and together we'll learn of His commandments that we may return home to his presence to live in His sight, always to walk in the light." It was so touching and a perfect reminder of a father's role in the home.

I am so grateful to have grandfathers, a father, and a husband who love the Lord and serve him with their whole hearts, and who love and serve their families with all their strength. My little family has been so blessed by them. To Grampsy, Dad, and Forrest, we love you. Happy Father's Day.

How My iPhone Changed My Life

Let me just begin by saying that I agree wholeheartedly with the "Look Up" campaign. So often our phones and other digital devices keep us from having real, quality interactions with those around us. That being said, let me tell you how my iPhone has changed my life.

In the beginning I was really resistant to the thought of getting a smart phone. I didn't like the idea (and still don't) of being so plugged in to everything. Having internet access with me everywhere I go. It's a great thing, but also a terrible thing. It took me a few years after the smartphone craze started, but I eventually gave in and I got my iPhone just over two years ago. It was great to be able to check my email anytime of the day, make posts on social media anytime and anywhere, and have a reasonably high quality digital camera with me everywhere I went (without having to carry a separate device). All those things were great. I liked my newfound connection to the world, but I didn't really start to love my phone until about a year ago.

That was when all of my family got some kind of an Apple device. And then we discovered iMessaging. Greatest thing ever! Since then, my family has been so much more connected. We have a long-running group conversation via iMessaging. Of course we still call one another frequently, see each other often, and talk in person. But the group convo is perfect for sending pictures, sharing funny stories, and asking questions so everyone can see it all at once. When the twins were born it was ideal to send out one message to everyone, and we could all share pictures without having to send each picture to every individual person.

And now we take it to a whole new level. Every once in a while, someone comes up with a plan to get us all involved in some sort of contest. We love competition, you know. Most recently, my brother-in-law challenged us all to a lipsync battle. So he sent out a group message first thing in the morning with the challenge to come up with a lip sync, record it, and send it out before midnight. Maybe one day if I get brave enough I will share mine and Forrest's lip sync to "A Whole New World" from Aladdin. Other competitions we've done include Chopped, Funniest Moments in Whiting Family History, and Music Video Challenges. It is so fun to have the whole family involved and connected, despite the fact that many of us live far apart.

I'm sure if we didn't all have an Apple device, we would find another way to stay connected. But this is what works for us, and it has really transformed my life and improved our family relationships. Hooray for iPhones! 

Travelling with Two

Last week we ventured out on our first vacation as a family of four. Forrest and I, Charlie and Caroline, and my sister and her little girl all loaded into our van and made the 10 hour drive (which really look us like 13-14 hours with stoppage time) down to Southern California, where the twins were born. We stayed for almost a week and we had a blast! I was really nervous about travelling with the babes, and with good reason. I think most nine and three-quarter month old babies don't love spending an entire day in their car seats. But they handled it like champs!

The things I most worried about were food/meal times, sleeping, time in car seats and sun exposure. Especially with Charlie being so fair and light sensitive, the sun exposure worried me a lot since I knew we'd be outside most of the time. But we made it all work, and this is how:

Squeezable baby food pouches are the best things ever. I'm not exaggerating. At all. I have some refillable pouches that I use around home to fill with my own homemade purees. They are great, but have the down side of requiring refrigeration. The store bought ones don't. So for the month before the trip I shopped as many sales as I could to get as many of those little life-saving pouches as possible. Charlie and Caroline each eat about 3 of them per meal. So that's 9 pouches each per day, or 18 total. Every day. That's a lot of little food pouches. The cheapest I've found them is 88 cents each. Not too bad, but still cheaper to make my own. Before we left Forrest and I had a puree party and we made a whole bunch of baby food, stuffed all the pouches that I own (which is 13) and froze them. So I took those in a cooler for the ride down, then had all the pouches that I bought for the rest of the meals. It worked great!

For meal times, I have two bumbo's. One that I bought used, and one that I borrowed from my sister. We don't use them much around the house, but when we are at Grandma's house or anywhere else away from home, they are great. I loaded them both up at took them on our trip with us and they worked perfectly in place of their high-chairs. Food and meal times problems = solved.

The sleeping situation could not have been better. We stayed with our very best friends in California and they were so awesome to give up their kids' bedrooms so we all had beds to sleep in. They even put their sweet little 3-year old in a pack-n-play so that Caroline could sleep in her crib. Then we took our pack-n-play and set it up in the bedroom by the crib and that's where Charlie slept. They did great in there! It couldn't have been any more perfect. I was a little worried about them not napping etc. but I just had to prepare myself in advance to know that we were on vacation, and that it was ok if they didn't stay on schedule. And they didn't. They napped in our arms multiple times out of sheer exhaustion (which NEVER happens). But it was fun! They were really really good despite being thrown for a bit of a loop. Sleeping difficulties = not so bad after all.

The car seat issue is just difficult. My kids usually do pretty well in the car, but I think anyone would get sick of being strapped in a car seat for that long. We tried to break up the trip by stopping for meals, bathroom breaks, gas etc. and getting everyone out of the car to stretch every time. It was perfect for my 4 year old niece to run around. And it was good for the twins to get out of their seats, but a little hard since they just wanted to crawl around and there wasn't much space to do that. On the way back we stopped at a park and let them crawl around on the grass and that was perfect. It took a little longer for us to get to our destination, but getting the kids out of the car every few hours was absolutely essential. Time in car seats = not fun, but doable.

From the time the twins were newborn, I knew taking Charlie out in the sun would be a bit of a challenge. But I also knew that we couldn't never go outside because it was hard. He needs to experience the outdoors just as much as Caroline or any other person does, and I didn't want him to grow up in a bubble just because of his condition. So we just have to prepare a little bit more. Any time we go out, he wears a hat and his sun glasses. And sunscreen. I bought him a cute little one-piece swimming suit/rash guard that covers most of his legs, arms, chest and neck. And we have a pop-up sun shade that I take with us on our outdoor adventures. He hasn't had a sunburn yet, and his eyes seem to do ok with the hat and glasses combo. So being on vacation it wasn't much different, we were just outisde more often. We did go to the beach a few times. I bought an inflatable pool for the littles and we set it on the sand, the kids filled it with buckets of ocean water and we let it set in the sun to warm up a bit before putting the babes in it. They LOVED it! It was perfect for them to get to play in the water but not have to be down by the waves (which they were fascinated by but did not want to touch). The pool made for a great time at the beach and the sun exposure = conquered.

We had a lot of really fun adventures on our first family vacation. We visited the Aquarium of the Pacific, which the kids were thrilled about. Charlie loved the fishies, Caroline loved the stairs and chasing her cousin, and Hallie loved just about everything. We did a little bit of hiking, went whale watching and saw tons of dolphins, and ate frozen bananas on Balboa Peninsula. We visited with family on Sunday and played some fun games, saw friends we haven't seen in 8 months, and had a good time catching up with everyone. Oh yeah, and Ashley, Forrest and I did a triathlon! I almost forgot. It was really fun and we all did pretty well. All in all, it was a fantastic trip and we were sad to leave. Hooray for surviving our first road trip with twins! Now to prepare for our trip to Michigan this fall... :/

          (Excuse us for all looking a little worn down - this was right after the triathlon!)

Survival

Most days I consider it a complete success if we are all still alive by bedtime. Forget having hair done, teeth brushed, or clothes on. Just stay alive. At least that's what I thought, way back then.. a few weeks ago when I was so inexperienced. So immature. So carefree.

Last week (plus a few days) Forrest came down with a pretty serious tooth ache. Yes, I said tooth ache. A measley old pain in his mouth. After a few dentist appointments, he started swelling up. A lot. I mean A LOT a lot. The kind of swelling that made it look like he had a baseball in his cheek. Poor guy. He saw some specialists and had a root canal done. We thought that would fix it. Ha! Like I said, we were immature and inexperienced back then. He went back to the specialist every other day for a while to get it checked out. Still no improvement. Then on Saturday morning it got pretty bad, so he woke up and called his brother to take him to the ER. How I wish I could have gone with him - but someone had to stay home with the twins. 

I was a nervous wreck while he was gone. He couldn't really talk because it was difficult to open his mouth, so he was texting me all the while telling me what the doctors were saying. Basically, the oral surgeon came in, took one look at him, and told him he was about a hair away from this becoming a life threatening situation. Seriously?! From a tooth. Life threatening. Ya I was terrified.

They debated over whether or not to keep him in the hospital over the weekend until he could have surgery Monday morning (today), but the doctor felt comfortable enough to send him home with in-home health care for the weekend. Believe it or not, that's a little bit cheaper than staying in the hospital. So he came home on Saturday afternoon with a nurse and a bunch of IV equipment in tow. The nurse taught me how to administer the antibiotic via the IV every 8 hours, and then left us to it. Seriously, we looked (and still do) like a pharmacy. Between the IV, equipment, pain killers, antibiotics, anti-nausea meds... it's crazy. 

Poor guy hasn't had a real meal in over a week. Everything he consumes is through a straw. Soup, cream of wheat, pudding, ice cream, and smoothies. That's about it. So the four of us have basically camped out in our bedroom or the living room all week. I moved the twins' high chairs into the living room so that during meal time I could care for all 3 at once. Feeding them hasn't been too different though.. I puree everything for the twins, so now I just make an extra serving of whatever they're eating and give it to Forrest with a straw. For some reason he refused to eat tonight's dinner or pureed chicken and green beans though... weird.

This morning he was able to go in to get his tooth surgically removed and get some of the infection drained out. He was in a lot of pain afterward but I think the swelling is actually going down some. The oral surgeon is hopeful that he will be all healed up, infection free and ready for an implant in the next two weeks. Fingers crossed! 

During all of this we have been so blessed to have such wonderful family and a fantastic ward who have helped with babysitting, providing meals, and coming to lend a hand around the house. Basically we have the best family and friends ever. And I have learned what it is really like to be in survival mode. At least, for me. (I know many people go through much, much worse.) So what will I do with my newfound experience and maturity, you ask? Be grateful for the days when I only have two little people who are completely dependent on me. And always always always go to the dentist at the first sign of a toothache.

How Great Thou Art

Happy Easter everybody! This is one of my favorite holidays. When I was little I fondly remember waking up and joining the commotion of all my sisters running around and searching for our hidden Easter baskets. And the frustration at finding every basket but your own. I remember baskets hidden in the dryer, in drawers and cupboards, up on top of the grandfather clock, and in the bathtub. After the morning search we would all get dressed in our best (sometimes new) Easter dresses and head off to church. At church we would hear prepared lessons and talks on Jesus Christ, our Savior. We would sing songs of Him, take the sacrament in remembrance of Him, and spend the time worshipping Him. Three hours later we would head home (probably walking while my dad either talked or had meetings) and have the perfect Easter lunch: ham, potato salad, rolls, jello and salad. Yum! My grandparents would always come and join us for lunch and the much anticipated Easter egg hunt. Aaah!! So much excitement for a little body to handle. After lunch, we (all the girls) would have to wait inside while my older sisters made sure we didn't peek out the windows. Meanwhile my parents and grandparents would head outside and hide all the loot. It seemed like it would take them hours to get everything ready, though I'm sure it was only 15 or 20 minutes. Then we would all line up youngest to oldest with our Easter baskets and then run out the door at full speed and get hunting. Ashley "won" every year without question. She was ruthless. Whatever direction she went, we all went the other way because there was no beating her. In the end we would all have our baskets filled with toys, candy, maybe a few coins and possibly some clothes. We'd sit on the lawn and sort through our goodies, and my mom would always make Ashley share some of her finds with the rest of us. That afternoon and evening was always filled with joy and contentment, spending time out in the sun and the warmth of the new spring and playing together as a family with our new treasures. The family time that I remember and cherish is one of the reasons that Easter has such a special place in my heart.

                         Charlie and Caroline all ready to celebrate this Easter!

As I get older, holidays have changed. The magic of finding hidden baskets and Easter egg hunts is not the same as it used to be. Now I find much more joy in the reason behind the holiday - in this case, Christ and the miracle of His resurrection. As we sat in church today, we sang the hymn "How Great Thou Art." Nearly 4 years ago my sisters and I sang this song at my grandmother's funeral. I couldn't get through it without tears flowing then, and I can't do it now. Particularly the last verse, "When Christ shall come, with shout of acclamation, and bring me home, what joy shall fill my heart." In the midst of my sorrow, it brought me so much peace to think of Grams running joyfully to meet our Savior. She was such an amazing woman and I have no doubt that she is now reunited with her loving parents and watching down on us from above. 

Celebrating Easter now brings me so much hope and joy. The miracle of Christ's resurrection - that He lived a perfect life, and was persecuted more that we can possibly ever fathom. That He suffered for me, for all of us, in Gethsemane so that our sins could be forgiven. And that He died on the cross, only to rise again three days later and be the example to the world that we all will live again. That death on this earth is not final. Because of Him, I know that I will see my grandmother again. Because of Him, I know that I can spend eternity with my beautiful family. Because of Him, we can all be forgiven of our sins. We can have a fresh start and the mistakes of our past can be washed away. I love Easter because it reminds me of this. Happiest of Easters to all of you.