Seven years ago today, I sat in my office for the last time. I tried in vain to find meaningful things to do to occupy my mind. Instead, I thought about a young woman three hours away who was being induced with her first child. I wondered how her labor was going. I wondered if the baby had been born yet.

Most of all, I wondered if she would change her mind. I wondered if, on that day, I would become a mother, too.

Tonight, as my family drove an hour to the closest IHOP so Noah could celebrate his birthday at his favorite restaurant, I looked at the redbuds blooming along the highway. And I remembered how, making that trip to meet my son, was the first time I ever really noticed the redbuds. I can't see them without instantly going back to that gray rainy day and the excitement I felt as each mile brought me closer to seeing him.

He made me a mom.

How is it possible that seven years have passed since that day?

Seven-year-olds aren't little kids anymore. They have opinions. They're independent. They like Justin Beiber (I guess someone has to, right?).

They want computers.

A little while ago, Noah started talking about saving his money to buy his own computer. He has saved about forty dollars. He was excited about the idea of getting birthday money to go towards his goal. We talked to various grandparents and figured he would probably end up with over $100 in birthday money. 

In Mormon culture, I think that a large percentage, if not most people, have heard of the parable of the bicycle. This story (which comes from a book called Believing Christ by Stephen E. Robinson) tells about a child who really wanted a new bicycle. So he worked hard and saved all of the money he earned for weeks. Finally, he took his piggy bank and went to the store with his father. But when he saw the price tag on the bike he wanted, his face fell because he had only earned a couple of dollars. After proclaiming in despair that he would never have enough, his father told that if he handed over all of the money he had worked so hard for and gave his father a big hug and kiss, the father would make up the difference.

This story was used to illustrate our relationship with Christ and the power of the atonement.

All of that to say, we decided this was a bicycle moment. 

The only problem was that we had a hard time finding something that went into the budget (we decided to spend more than we normally would on a birthday present, but not ridiculously more). At first, we were just going to go with Craig's List. But we weren't entirely comfortable with something with absolutely no warranty. Finally, yesterday, I found a nice-looking netbook that seemed perfect for him. Only one problem...it isn't carried in the store that sells it. It has to be ordered online.

I decided to have a conversation with Noah to set up the expectation that there wouldn't be a big present on his birthday.

"Noah," I said, "You have two choices. We were planning on helping you get your computer for a birthday present, but we would have to order it, so you wouldn't get it until a few days after your birthday. If you want to be able to open everything ON your birthday, we can get you something else, but it will be a very long time until you can earn enough money to get a computer. What do you think?"

"Well, um..." he thought, "I suppose maybe I'm a bit young for a computer. I guess I'll take toys."

WHAT???

Yeah, no parabolic lessons here. (Is that a word? If it is, is it the right one? Or did I just use a math term, in which case, there were OBVIOUSLY no parabolic lessons because I can't teach something when I don't even know what it is...)

Make no mistake about it, that child WANTS a computer. He has been talking about it for weeks. He just has no patience. And he wanted presents.

After a bit more talking about it, Noah finally looked at me, heaved a huge sigh, and said, "FINE. I'll take a computer."

This kid, obviously, doesn't know how good he's got it. But he's only seven, so I'll forgive him.

Of course, we made sure that he had three gift bags of small presents to open today. And he's having a big family party on Saturday. He got his traditional day at the office with Daddy today. And the coveted dinner at IHOP.

This evening, after he finished talking on the phone with his birthmom and telling her all about his day, he handed the phone back to me.

"He sounds like he really had a great birthday," she told me.

He did. 

And he can't stop talking about getting his computer.

Happy Birthday, son. I love you.

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As I slog on towards the end of the school year, I am once again faced with the dilemma of whether or not to stick with the (free) online school that we have used for the last two years. I went through this debate last year and truly struggled with the decision...Stick with what I know, or go for what I would love to accomplish?

Honestly, the curriculum through K12 is impressive. My kindergartner knows his continents. My first grader is studying Greek gods. Last week, we learned about Monet. They know the word "solfege."  They are learning a lot.

But I hate dealing with the school. I hate being told I'm not my sons' "teacher," but their "learning coach." I hate feeling like I can never deviate from the plan because I might get a "truancy" letter. I hate feeling like we're missing a lot of the joy of learning because I'm so hung up on getting through the curriculum. 

I had all of the same issues by the time I got to the end of the school year last year. Ultimately, I chose to stick with the online school for two reasons. First, I managed to get Wyatt enrolled for kindergarten this year, despite be THIRTEEN DAYS too young, and I wanted to have that official paper trail that says he did indeed start school this year. And second (complete, total honesty here), I'm lazy. The online school is done for me. I don't have to prepare anything. I just sit in front of the computer, click a button, and follow the instructions.

Baaaa. I am totally a sheep.

Oh, wait. I just remembered a third reason. The online school is free. And doing it on my own? Isn't. 

I'm a cheap sheep.

Honestly? I already have precious little time to myself. I frequently feel like my life is in no way my own anymore. And coming up with curriculum takes time. And effort. And more of my life than I'm sure I'm willing to give up.

Except.

Except, I imagine what school could be like for my children. I imagine working Tiger Scout activities into their school time. I imagine more trips to museums (which would get my younger kids more involved, too). I imagine working scripture study into their school time. I imagine choosing books and topics related to what my kids are interested in (like Noah's desire to read Alice in Wonderland right now), not just what some egghead thought would make up a good, standard curriculum. 

Most of all, I envision creating a curriculum that flows. There are so many ways that concepts can be reinforced across subjects. If you are studying the Civil War in history, you can be reading Uncle Tom's Cabin for language arts, learning about how the slaves pursued freedom by following constellations in science, and sing slave songs in music. I'd love to give my kids THAT kind of education.

For now, I just have to grab even the slightest chance when it presents itself. Today, Noah read The Three Little Pigs:

 

 

 

OK, so it's not exactly "Follow the Drinking Gourd," but the kids sure enjoyed it. Although I forgot about Rambo massacring the Wolf at the end (I'm not worried about the pothead pig...that would have gone straight over their heads).

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About three weeks ago, my two youngest kiddos became very sick. VERY SICK. This was evidenced by the fact that I finally, after several days, decided to take them to the doctor. I almost never take my kids to the doctor unless they are going in for a scheduled check up. Or someone's toe is about to fall off. But since they both had barely eaten in days and neither could stand up on their own (OK, that's normal for Violet at six months old, but not so much for Eli), I finally called the pediatrician's office and took them in. It was on a Saturday, or "take what you can get" day. My normal pediatrician wasn't there. Instead, I got a young male doctor who is new to the practice. We'll just call him Dr. Young, since I still don't know (or care) what his real name is.

When I saw Dr. Young initially, he seemed to be pretty decent. Of course, I was stressed out and had only gotten, oh, maybe 15 minutes of sleep that week, so he could have diagnosed my kids with bubonic plague and I might just not remember. But he prescribed them both antibiotics (and then, not so endearingly, displayed a complete inability to properly send the prescription into my pharmacy) and seemed reassuring, so I left feeling mostly positive about him. I even scheduled the follow-up appointment that he said was standard. Now, I KNOW that an ear infection (what he ended up treating them for) does not require a follow-up. But given how sick they were, I decided that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea.

Which brings us to today. And five quick and easy steps for how to lose a patient in 10 minutes.

1. Don't actually come into the exam room until 30 minutes after the scheduled appointment. Yes, yes, I know that I have already gone past ten minutes. Of course, you didn't think the a DOCTOR'S time starts at the same time our does, did you? They are, after all, god-like and not beholden to something as inconsequential as time like the rest of us are. But for someone like me, with five kids, being stuck in a tiny room full of things not to touch when the temperature is set to approximately three degrees hotter than Hell...Not a good way to start. I respected your time by being there when I said...you respect my time by not booking more patients than you could ever possibly see on time so you'll still be full even if someone cancels.
2. When you walk in the door and the six-year-old in the room (who isn't as concerned about politeness as his mother) asks why you took so long to get there, don't say anything. And, for heaven's sake, don't even THINK about apologizing for the delay.
3. When the five-year-old in the room (who isn't one of the two kids actually scheduled to see you) decides to tell you that he has been coughing for a couple of days, look at him and say, "Did you bring your co-pay?" I don't care how "jokingly" you say it, that is obviously meant to send a message to me as a mom that you aren't planning to check out the kid who isn't being billed scheduled for an appointment (and who I had no intention of having you check out). And it makes you look CLASSY.
4. When I show up for that unnecessary follow-up that you just scheduled because Hey! Two more easy office visits at $90 each!, spend approximately two minutes on the kids with the appointments. Then tell me that my daughter still has fluid in her one year. Then walk out the door without making any suggestions about treating the fluid that is still in her ear. Because if I'm taking the time and my insurance company's money to come make sure the problem is gone, there is nothing as thrilling as finding out it is still there and not having you treat it! Funny, I thought that was the whole idea...
5. As you walk out the door, tell me to go ahead and get everyone ready to go while you get my paperwork. Then never come back. Send it to the front desk instead, so I feel like a total idiot for standing there and waiting for you.

Yes, people, I dislike most doctors. I am grateful for modern medicine when I need it, but I am generally not a big fan of the doctors. And young doctors who are still building their practices (and, therefore, do things like schedule unnecessary "follow-up" appointments to keep their days full? Drive. Me. Crazy. I went through this once before with a young pediatrician in the practice. I got to the point where I wouldn't let them schedule my kids with her. My regular pediatrician isn't like that. Not that I didn't go through a period where I considered finding another doctor when she inherited us after our original pediatrician died unexpectedly, but we worked it out. I don't know if she mellowed over the years, or if she just figured out that I didn't want her unsolicited opinions on things like co-sleeping and scheduling my children. Either way, I like her now. 

But Dr. Young? I suppose it is time that I learn his real name. That's the only way I can be sure to avoid another appointment with him.

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Sometimes, I am astounded by just how quickly the world can fall apart around me.

Violet, while showing slight improvement, is still quite sick (although still completely adorable).

By the time she woke up this morning (after a very fitful night of what we will REFER to as "sleep" on the couch with me), her poor little face was crusted in snot. And as she was feeling feverish, I decided to put her in the bathtub. She likes being in the bathtub and being sponged off while she isn't feeling well. She will actually start to fall asleep on her little bath cushion as the water trickles over her. But when I go to take her out? Absolute fury. From the time I lift her out of the water until I finally have her dressed and in my arms, she is TICKED OFF.

So naturally, as I laid her, wrapped in a towel, on the floor in the hallway to get dressed after her bath, life fell apart.

As I started drying Violet off, Caleb walked by and casually informed me that he had used my bathroom and that the toilet needed plunging. I did not see this, in and of itself, as any major issue. I have four sons. My plunger and I have a very close relationship. However, mere seconds later, when I heard a large volume of water splashing onto the floor, it moved up my priorities list.

One of the reasons that I tell my kids not to use my bathroom is that they have a talent for messing up that toilet. If you hold the handle down too long, the little plug in the tank won't go down and the water will just keep running. Normally, I figure this out either when I hear it, or when I notice that the entire house has approximately zero water pressure. Like so many other things in my life, it is annoying but not really a big deal. BUT, when you combine it with a clogged toilet...yeah. Water all over the floor.

I grabbed all of the towels in the room and threw them on the mess while reaching back behind the toilet to try and shut off the water valve. Then I pulled off my shirt because, ew, it was covered with toilet water and headed out to grab more towels. Once those were on the ground and that situation was somewhat under control, I went into the bedroom to put on a clean shirt.

That is when I discovered that Eli, who was sleeping in my room, had managed to spill his orange juice on my carpet. I sent Noah for more towels and told him to clean it up (what a good kid, he did it without a single complaint), put on my shirt, then went back to the naked baby in the hallway to finally finish dressing her.

Whew. And that was only five minutes of my day.

Eli is still really sick. He has been struggling with this illness worse than anyone else. He seemed like he was doing a lot better all yesterday morning. He was playing, walking around, and even helped his great-grandmother make sweet rolls. Then, he spike a major fever. I mean, BLAZING hot. I couldn't tell you how hot since I was much more interested in getting him in the tub and cooling him off than in taking the time to get a number. The fever came down pretty quickly and hasn't gone up that bad since then. Actually, I've only given him ibuprofen once today. But he hasn't gotten out of bed since that fever. He is just sleeping constantly. I can wake him up and get him to drink which, according to our local EMT's (consulted again by my mother), means I shouldn't worry and just let him sleep so his body can fight it. He even watched TV for a couple of hours this evening. But he still is barely eating. If he doesn't show some real improvement by tomorrow, I'll probably take him in to be checked out. I'm not one to run to the doctor for every sniffle, but three days of fevers and constant sleeping is wearing down my mommy nerves.

On the plus side, Wyatt, who started with the fever and yuckies two nights ago, has never gotten to the truly miserable stage. And Noah still hasn't ever gone past the runny nose and sneezing. I'm hopeful that they will avoid the misery that the younger three have gone through.

As I have taken care of my kids and done little else over the past few days, my goal has been to have them healthy in time for me to teach a class at church on Tuesday. A yoga class. I haven't done yoga since I broke my neck in a car crash in 2001. That's a long time, people. Which means I should have been preparing. And I haven't, obviously, since I've been taking care of sick kids for over a week now.

I'm getting a little nervous.

I'm also getting something else.

*Cough, sniffle, cough*

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You know how you can usually tell how a person's day is going just by looking at their face? Forget my face...you can read my week by looking at my shirt.

People, black cotton is an amazing canvas for six-month-old snot. (That would be snot FROM a six-month-old, as opposed to snot that has lived on my shirt for six months. I'm behind in my housecleaning, but not THAT behind.)

My children are sick. All five of them. It started with Caleb, who has been sick for almost a week now. He didn't get bad, though, until Sunday. He literally spent that entire day sleeping, only waking up a few times to pee and get a drink. The next day wasn't a whole lot better, but today was looking up. Which means he's getting better just in time for me to have to deal with the others, who are getting worse. Noah and Wyatt aren't too bad yet. Noah has had a headache and stuffy nose. Wyatt is nauseous and hacking. But the little ones? Ahhh...

Eli has that horrible barking seal cough going on. And when it gets going, it is so bad that he wheezes when he tries to breath in between coughs. Violet has the bark, too, but not nearly as bad. She, however, is spraying germs on me at every opportunity. If I don't get sick, it will be a miracle. Seriously. My face is covered in droplets of baby spit that have accumulated throughout the day. And that black cotton shirt I wore all day? Well, let's just say that I almost never got to the tissue box in time.

So if things seem a little quiet for a few days, you'll know where I am. I have been working on an article that I really want to post that addressess Heidi Montag's plastic surgery, Mauritanian women, celebrity pregnancies, and Meghan McCain's boobs. I figure the fact that I can tie them all together probably means I'm brilliant. Or slightly schizophrenic. That's always a possibility.

In the meantime,  I'm digging in my heals and bracing for quite the battle with the nasties.  I have pillows, blankets, and A LOT of hand sanitizer. Oh, and my kids all know how to make their own barf buckets.

I think we'll survive.

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