Our Eagle

Purchasing some supplies at Home Depot

We knew from the time that Coolister first became involved in Boy Scouts that we wanted him to earn the rank of Eagle but we wanted him to want it. He kept procrastinating - almost to the point where we didn't think he'd make it before the age cutoff - but he finally got serious and got to work.

Coolister debated a few different project ideas and finally decided to design and build bookshelves for a local elementary school. He was able to collect enough in donations that he built 5 bookshelves and also gave a generous gift card to Barnes and Noble with each one.

He worked hard - and with the help of his family and many great friends and neighbors he was able to deliver the bookshelves before his 18th birthday.

One requirement for his eagle application was to have a parent write him a letter of recommendation. I was lucky enough to be the one to do this, and here is what I wrote:

To Whom It May Concern:

How does a parent write a letter of recommendation for one of their children without coming across as biased and boastful? I’m not sure that it is possible. However, I do wish to emphasize that although the following letter will likely seem to contain the gushing recommendation that you would expect from a parent, words are inadequate in my attempt to describe what a remarkable young man our son truly is.

Many of the things I can think to include in this letter would likely be redundant because they will already be a part of the other information which is required as a part of his Eagle paperwork. I will do my best to give you a glimpse into what is not included elsewhere.

Coolister is the oldest of our ten children. Most teenage boys do not have much interest in their younger siblings; this is not the case with Coolister. As the oldest child he has shown genuine caring and leadership in his association with each of his siblings. We have been pleased with his example to them of one who sets and accomplishes goals, works hard in school and is a loyal and trustworthy friend.

When Coolister is faced with a challenge, he conquers it head-on and without discouragement. In March of 2010 Coolister suffered an extreme open dislocation of his ankle which required surgery and physical therapy to rehabilitate. As a talented cross-country runner this could have been devastating, especially when he was told that this injury would likely put him out of sports for a year. However, Coolister did not let this deter him from his goal of running in the State Championship Meet the following season. He was good-natured and positive throughout the whole ordeal. Coolister worked hard and recovered quickly, surprising his doctors and physical therapist, and trained all summer to be back on track for cross-country in the fall where he was able to reach his goal of competing at the state level.

Coolister proved that he not only knew the words to the scout oath, but lived them as well, when his youngest brother was born last December. I slipped on ice and broke both bones in my lower leg three weeks before the baby was expected to arrive. When I came home from the hospital with a newborn baby and orders to stay in bed for 6 weeks, Coolister was a great help to our family. He never complained when asked to shop for groceries, run errands, help prepare meals, change diapers, or shuttle his younger siblings to their various activities.

At first sight, Coolister can come across as a fun-loving, silly kid. However, behind the scenes, as his mom, I get to see the side that many others don't. My son has a heart of gold. He is quick to forgive, always one to help others feel included and he is filled with a light that comes from really knowing who he is and what he has the potential to become.

As stated in the beginning of this letter, I feel that my words are inadequate. I am sure I could continue to write volumes and still not feel as though I have sufficiently helped you to know what really makes our son who he is. How can I summarize nearly 18 years of a life well-lived into one short letter?

Suffice it to say that I wholeheartedly recommend our son, Coolister, as a candidate for the rank of Eagle Scout.

Thank you,

Gerb

We are still awaiting the final word but the local council approved his application with "absolutely no reservation". Awesome job, Coolister!

Good Morning Sunshine

When I reach down and pull back the blankets from my sweet baby boy each morning then lift his soft, warm little body up to my face for a kiss he rewards me with a coo and a heart-melting smile.

Have you ever unwrapped a gift and found that it contained exactly what you wanted without your having to ask - so you feel all warm and happy and loved because someone took the time to thoughtfully choose something that was just right for you?

This is what seeing Baby B's face at the start of each day feels like. For a brief yet solid moment I have the feeling of a perfect Christmas morning and the child-like excitement of a trip to Disneyland and unconditional love and all-encompassing joy which just consumes me.

It is like unwrapping a gift of sunshine.

Every. Day.

You Choose

This whole week (tomorrow's the last day) you can leave me a comment on this post and you're guaranteed an answer! Some answers will be left in the comments, some will be answered as a post. What are you waiting for? Go ask me a question!

photo found here

This post is in response to some questions from 'anonymous':

Are you really so happy all the time? Do you ever have a bum day? Have you had any experiences that made you the way you are?

Well, Anon, your first question is one that I actually get asked a lot. And yes, I am a pretty happy person. You know why? Because I choose to be. Do I have bad days? Of course. Everyone does. In fact, my foot frustrates me to no end right now. It drives me nuts to sit around all day long and to have to depend on others to do a lot of things for me. I can't drive. I can't run my own errands. I can't do a whole number of things right now. I could easily choose to feel sorry for myself (and yes, sometimes I do) but it makes life a whole lot better if I choose instead to be thankful for the things I CAN do rather than focusing on the ones I can't.

Have you ever heard the saying, "I had no shoes and complained until I met a man with no feet"?

I think life is always better than we think if we are willing to look for the blessings.

Here's a kid who is a great example of this...



As for your last question, Have you had any experiences that made you the way you are? my answer is yes. I think everyone is who they are because of the things they have experienced. I could list a whole number of things that have influenced the person that I am today, but the thing that stands out the most to me is that I was bullied as a child. I would never, ever in any circumstance wish these sort of experiences upon anyone. However, they have shaped me into the person that I am. Again, it is a matter of choice. I could continue to see myself as a victim or learn something from the experience and try to make a difference for others who are enduring similar circumstances.

What it all comes down to is this quote that I love from the movie The Iron Giant:

You are who you choose to be.

I choose to be happy.

Laughter Is The Best Medicine

My friends are funny.

I got this in my email a couple of days ago:


Gerb! I finally figured out how to make my foot look like yours!

Your foot:

My foot:

Love, amy


Thanks, Amy. I'm feeling better already!

Flower Power

Bread feeds the body, indeed, but flowers feed also the soul.
~The Koran

Yet another reason why I love the place where Allen works.

They sent me this beautiful bouquet with a note that read:

Get well soon! Sorry this took so long. Your friends at (Allen's work).

What is it about flowers? They make me a happier person just to look over at them. Is it the colors? The fragrance that fills the room? There is something grand about having a small part of nature and the outside world at springtime right here at my bedside in the middle of winter.

Whatever it is, they have brightened my room and my spirits since the day they arrived last week and once again I have been reminded of what an awesome company Allen works for.

Lessons Learned From My Christmas 'Break'

Here's what I look at all day, every day.

It has been a looooooong week since my ankle surgery.

Unfortunately, my initial tendencies lately are to feel sorry for myself, sitting around on my bed all day. For those of you who think that sounds wonderful, sitting in bed having others attend to you 24/7, it is pretty overrated; especially for someone like myself who likes being independent.

I will admit that the sweet little bundle of beautiful baby boy who rests to my right and shares my confinement does make it more bearable. But still. For example - I used to have free access to the multitude of snacks in my kitchen without anyone having to know of my terrible treat-eating habits. Now if I want one, I have to ask someone to get it for me. This is all fine and good, except that after asking a couple of times I can't bring myself to ask again. "Could you go get mom another plate of cookies from the freezer downstairs? Oh, and a bowl of ice cream?" It just doesn't seem right. I'm sure this is a good thing... but when I just want a chocolate crinkle cookie from my stash in the downstairs freezer and have to ask someone to bring it to me I can guarantee you my stash is being depleted when I'm not looking. Revealing the places where my stash is hidden really stinks.

I think that I have learned a few wonderful lessons this past week, however. It has been a tough one, but a good one. I have mentioned before that we live in an awesome neighborhood. It's like an extension of the family, really. And when something like a broken ankle and a newborn baby happen in the same week, people really want to help. Usually when I have a baby and someone offers to bring us dinner I will tell them that I appreciate the offer but we are fine and have plenty of capable cooks around. Even if I want to accept their offers of baked goods and delicious meals this just seems like the right thing to do. Just say no, a little voice inside my head whispers to me. You are independent! You can do it all! You don't need any help.

That voice is me, the part of me who wants to do it all. The part of me that wants to show the world that no matter how large our family is or what happens to us, we can handle things ourselves. It has been difficult to admit to, but that voice is wrong. Sometimes, it takes a village to love and support a family during a tough time - and this is one of those times.

Not only do I want to accept any and all offers of food and assistance, I sort of need to. I can't even stand for more than a few minutes at a time and even that about kills me, trying to precariously balance on my good foot while holding my broken ankle off the ground. I'm stuck in bed pretty much all of the time unless I am feeling up to making my way to the couch. Allen is busy being mom AND dad when he's home, tending to the housework and the kiddos, and as soon as the teenagers get home from school he's off to his other job - the one he gets paid to do. (Love that man!)

I'd ask the teenagers to pitch in and make dinner but it seems they are in a constant state of doing homework or tending to my other little needs during the evening (changing diapers, helping littler kids with homework and getting PJs on, helping me make school lunches for the next day, maintaining the house, etc.) not to mention the nights they have their own obligations (church activities, basketball games, practices, etc.).

So I've changed. I have learned to respond to offers of help not with, "I appreciate that, but we're fine" but instead with this new phrase:

"That would be awesome. Thank you."

I am not sure why it is so difficult to let others serve us. When I am asked to help others, I love to do so. I want to be the first in line to bring in a meal for a family with a new baby or whatnot. I love the feeling of being able to fulfill a need for someone. So why do I have a hard time letting others do the same for me? They would not ask to help if they did not want to do so. It has been a good lesson for me to accept these kind acts of service. I am filled with overwhelming gratitude for the wonderful neighbors and friends who have done so much for us in the past week.

To everyone who has sent well-wishes and amazing food and sweet little gifts our way, thank you. You have all helped make this much more bearable and we are so grateful for everything.

A million times, thank you.

Bringing In The New Year With A BANG!

Monday, December 27, 2010.
8:00 a.m.

I am scraping the thin layer of ice from the windows on our car. As usual, I am running late for my 8:00 a.m. doctor's visit. As I slide into the driver's seat my right foot slips a bit on the driveway. It's a slick one this morning, I think to myself.

8:50 a.m.

I am done with my 37 week doctor's visit and making an appointment to come back again next week. He has already agreed to induce me at 39 weeks - on January 11th. 1/11/11, I think to myself. Now that's a birthday I can remember!

9:10 a.m.

I pull into the driveway, ready to crawl back into bed. I notice that the trash truck has already been by and decide to pull the trash can up to the house. The second I exit the car my feet start to slip... and I go back and forth between sliding on the driveway, losing and then regaining my balance, until suddenly my right foot rolls the wrong way and I fall into the gutter with a snap! sound. I almost immediately know that my ankle is broken.

9:15 a.m.

I try calling Allen on my cell phone but, as luck would have it, my battery is all but dead. A sweet older gentleman is out walking his dog and he hurries over to ask how he can help. "I live in this house," I tell him, pointing. "Please go get my husband. I think I broke my ankle."

9:30 a.m.

Allen and Coolister have carried me into the house and called 9-1-1. The pain is excruciating. The paramedics come. I am reminding them over and over that I am 37 weeks pregnant and do not want any medications that could even possibly harm the baby. They stabilize my foot and load me in to the back of their ambulance for transport to the hospital.

9:45 a.m.

I am wheeled into a room in the ER where the damage is assessed by x-ray. I am hoping for a dislocation and yes, it is dislocated, but also broken. In two places. The tibia has a part of the end broken off, the fibula is a more obvious break. I am told they will set the ankle where it is dislocated and then the on-call orthopedic surgeon will come in to talk with me about the breaks.

10:00 a.m. - 11:00 a.m.

This time period is something of a blur because the ER doctor has given me a medication that keeps me awake through the setting procedure but helps me forget what exactly has gone on. Is that confusing? It was for me. For example, one minute they are putting something in my IV and not long after I notice my ankle is bandaged up. I ask Allen when that happened and he tells me it was wrapped when it was set. I had no idea they had set my ankle already although he says I was very vocal about letting them know "my ankle hurts really bad" as they were doing it.

11:00 a.m.

My OB (that's my baby doctor for those who don't know) comes to visit us in the E.R. He reassures me that all will be well and that he and the surgeon are going to consult & let me know what will be the best plan of action.

11:30 a.m.

Word comes that they want to induce the baby ASAP and then perform surgery on my ankle. I am a bit incredulous that I am going to have my baby that day. I ask all of the typical questions - are his lungs well enough developed? Will he be more likely to have jaundice? Do we need to do an ultrasound to check that everything's fine before inducing labor? My OB tells me that 37 weeks is considered full term and that everything will be fine. All I can think of as we wait to be wheeled up to labor and delivery is the fact that we have not decided on a name for this baby yet. We did not bring a camera - unless you count the ones on our phones. I have not shopped for Princess' birthday on January 1st. I have not found Princess a dress to wear after her baptism this Saturday. We have not yet moved Little O out of the pack-and-play bed he has slept in his entire life - which will be the new baby's bed once we get him home. I have not clipped my toenails or shaved my legs. Plus... how do I deliver a baby with a broken foot?! I have never felt so unprepared in my life.

12:00 p.m. - 2:00 p.m.

The Hospital Waiting Game. (This is not a fun game.) We use this time to talk some more about baby names.

2:10 p.m.

We arrive in Labor & Delivery. I am prepped for induction as the staff awaits instructions from my OB. I am already dilated to a 4 before induction begins - this gives me some hope that my baby may actually be ready to come.

2:30 p.m.

Pitocin (the labor-inducing drug) is administered through my IV.

2:45 p.m.

The orthopedic surgeon's PA (physician's assistant?) comes and tells me what to expect in surgery tomorrow. The time is yet to be determined... but I will have screws and a plate put in. I will have a soft cast for 10 days, then a hard cast for 5 weeks following. I will not be able to bear any weight on my ankle for 6 weeks. Allen and I discuss options for making this work. We can make it work.

3:00 p.m.

Contractions are painful enough that I am ready for an epidural. BONUS: The epidural takes away the pain in my foot. The doctor who administers the epidural is magical in that I do not feel any needle pricks or pain in the process of getting the epidural working.

4:00 p.m.

Not much progress. My OB breaks my water and chats with us for a bit while he watches my contractions.

4:45 p.m.

I tell my nurse that I'm feeling ready. She checks. I'm ready. They call the doctor back into the room.

4:55 p.m.

One push. They tell me not to push any more.

4:57 p.m.

Our baby is delivered and I am amazed at how well things have worked out. I am a mother for the 10th time. It is surreal. This beautiful little bundle of chub and squealy cries is mine. We look at him and decide on a name. It is perfect. He is 8 pounds, 4 ounces. 19 1/2 inches long. Not bad for 3 weeks early.

7:00 p.m.

Allen accompanies the nurses and our sweet little baby to the nursery while I am moved to the Mother/Baby floor. I have been fasting all day (unless you count the apple I ate on my way to the doctor's office this morning at 8:00 a.m.) but they order me dinner so that I'll have something to eat before I have to start my next fast at midnight. I will have surgery on my ankle in the morning but the time has not yet been determined. I am told it will likely be sometime between 2:00 p.m. and 8:00 p.m., but maybe at 7:00 a.m. Well, okay then.

8:00 p.m.

Dinner. Hospital food is awesome - I'm totally not kidding.

9:00 p.m.

We await word on surgery and continue to work with the nurses to attempt to control the pain in my ankle.

10:00 p.m.

I order more food (crackers, cookies and pudding) to fill myself up before fasting again from midnight until who-knows-when. My kids come to visit. I have never heard the words, "Awww!" and "cute!" said so many times in a 45 minute period of time. They are all in love with their little brother, even Curly who, when asked, "What do you think about your little brother?" answers, "Fine. Can I have a cookie?"

Tuesday, December 28, 2010
12:00 a.m.

The fasting begins.

7:00 a.m.

After a night full of baby feedings and checking of vital signs and controlling pain and uncomfortable hospital bedding, I am ready to get this surgery over with. We ask the nurses if they have a time yet. No word, but they'll let us know ASAP.

7:00 a.m. - 1:30 p.m.

The Hospital Waiting Game. I can't help but think about how much we are paying to sit around in this room and do nothing while waiting for surgery.

1:30 p.m.

I ask my nurses, trying not to sound annoyed, when my surgery will be. They call the surgeon but he is unavailable. They call the surgeon's office but they are not helpful. They call the Operating Room and ask when I am on the schedule - I'm not. We are all becoming even more frustrated when word comes - they are ready for me.

2:00 p.m.

I am wheeled down to the OR waiting room. Allen bids me farewell and good luck as I head through the doors. As soon as he leaves my side I am nervous & anxious. I just want this over with. The reality of all that has happened in just over 24 hours is overwhelming and I find myself emotional. I sing the words to "Particle Man" over and over in my head as an attempt at distraction. I do not want to cry in front of all these strangers.

2:15 p.m.

I talk with the anesthesiologist about what's going to happen during surgery. He offers more options than I want to think about. I tell him that I want to be completely asleep during the procedure and that's all I care about. He goes on and on giving me details on why I should opt for a spinal block, etc. and have some pump put in my sciatic nerve to control the pain after. I already told him what I wanted and I just want him to leave now. He finally does.

2:45 p.m.

Still no sign of my surgeon. I sit and watch as person after person is brought in, meets with their surgeon and anesthesiologist and is taken to the OR for surgery. I try to fall asleep so that I can be distracted from thoughts of crying.

3:30 p.m.

WHERE IS MY SURGEON?! Another anesthesiologist comes and asks me to sign a consent form. I tell him that I have already signed one. He asks if I was told that he was my new anesthesiologist. No, I was not told. He apologizes, excuses himself for a moment (to go chew someone out?) and comes back. I actually like him better than the first guy - he's easy-going and down to earth.

3:45 p.m.

My surgeon shows up. I want to chew him out for making me lay there in the OR waiting area for AN HOUR AND FORTY FIVE MINUTES but I figure it's best to keep things amiable since he's about to cut my leg open and put some screws and plates in there. I just try not to cry and nod my head when he asks me questions. To his benefit, he IS being very sweet.

4:00 p.m.

The anesthesiologist puts something into my IV, says he'll see me later, and I start to feel tingly as I fall asleep to his singing of some classic rock.

7:20 p.m.

I wake up in the recovery room and immediately ask if anyone has called Allen. They tell me he should be in the waiting area. I tell them to call him. They say they will once we get to my room. I am starting to get frantic again. I somehow feel like everything will be fine if Allen is with me and I need him there NOW. As we walk outside the OR, he is there, waiting. I breathe a sigh of relief.

The details from here on out are insubstantial. So now, here I am at home, my humongously casted ankle resting on my bed in front of me, my 5 day old baby resting to my right, and my life is good.

There are so many tender mercies that have occurred in our lives over the last 5 days. Some things much too personal to share, some details which are overwhelming evidence of how blessed we are.

I love how my kids will sneak into my room just for a chance to hold their new baby brother. I am amazed by each tiny feature and contented half-grin on my newborn baby boy. Broken ankle? Sure, it's inconvenient. And a literal pain. But in the end, all is well.

Seriously, look at that face.


I am so, so blessed.

Happy New Year, everyone.

It's Coolister Outside

I wrote about my littlest munchkin and now I need to write about Coolister, the oldest. I think I've already written quite a bit about the range of emotions I am experiencing as I think about him being at the university next year, making his own choices and dictating his own schedule. I know he'll do well. He'll muddle through if he has to and figure things out because he's smart and he knows how to get by. I'm proud of him for all he's accomplished in his life so far in regards to school and sports, too - but I think that what I really want to focus on right now is his heart.

At first sight, Coolister is kind of a goofy, silly kid. He's extremely fun-loving and comes off as irresponsible (okay, sometimes he is) and self-centered at times. Pretty much your typical 17-year-old boy, really. But behind the scenes, as his mom, I get to see the side that many others don't. The kid has a heart of gold. He is quick to forgive, always one to help others feel included and filled with a light that comes from really knowing who he is and what he has the potential to become. Coolister is also a kid who has a willingness to help out whenever someone needs it.

Take today for instance.

Last night we had quite a snow storm. So much snow that this morning Coolister and his dad braved the cold at 6:00 a.m. to shovel our driveway, sidewalk and even a path around the suburban so that we could actually get into it without wading through snowdrifts to our knees. I sure do love those two!

After school as I was dropping off a couple of the kids in our carpool I noticed an elderly single woman (I'm pretty sure she's in her eighties) in our neighborhood out trying to shovel a path from her garage so that she could pull her car out. I called home on my cell phone and Coolister answered. All I had to say was, "Sister N. is out shoveling her driveway by herself..." before he answered, "I'm on it, Mom."

Coolister helped her shovel just enough to get her car out of the driveway and when she tried to pay him he told her that was not necessary and started to walk away. Once she was in her car and on her way he returned and finished shoveling her entire driveway and sidewalk.

After about an hour and a half I began to wonder where he had gotten off to. I drove over to Sister N's house and saw that he had finished shoveling at her house and and made his way next door to where another single lady in our church congregation lives. There he was with his jeans wet to his knees, almost finished with shoveling her driveway as well. No one had asked him. He just saw that it wasn't done and started doing it.

These are the things that make my mama heart swell with pride. These are the important things that his dad and I have hoped to instill in our kids' hearts and minds. Smarts at school are valuable and important but even more vital is the knowledge that serving others without any thought for yourself is the key to real happiness in life.

Oh, how I love my biggest boy and his huge heart.

Secret Santa

As I stepped outside to grab my shoes last week I found this hanging on my doorknob.


When I opened it up, I found an envelope with my name written across the front and a cute holiday card inside.


And then the best part of all...


A whole new set of socks!! Someone knows me well.

The card was simply signed, "From Someone Who Loves You".

Surprise socks? Even better. A big, huge thank you from my feet and I to the mystery sock-giver.

Now I just need to find a skirt or some elf-ish capris to really show off those stripey fur-topped holiday socks. You think I could pull it off?


Without the monkey pajamas, I mean.

To whoever you are, you mysterious bearer of fantastical footwear, thank you. You made my day - and you are awesome.



Want to read more? Well, alrighty! If you'd like to read about a Christmas tradition in my family, click over to 4P today.

PG-13 Bonus Material

(Awesome darkish camera-phone picture)

Allen and I celebrated our 18th anniversary this week with a matinee showing of Lion King, an excess of great food, some needed shopping and overnight stays at two of our favorite Bed And Breakfasts.

The second place we stayed keeps guestbooks in each of their rooms. Last year we stayed in a different suite and discovered a treasure hunt that someone had started in that room by reading the past entries in the room's guestbook. This prompted my reading the book in this year's room - but a different surprise was in store.

You would think that a simple Thanks for a great stay or Loved the room & breakfast! We'll be back! would suffice, but no. We could not believe the things that some people had written in these books; especially knowing that others would read their words and see their name signed just below what they had to say.

Would you like to see a few of the guestbook entries that we found unbelievable and/or humorous?

I thought you might. But let me forewarn you, some of them are a bit... well, racy.

Race For The Cure

This post is LONG overdue...

Waaaaay back in May I had the chance to attend the Susan Komen Race for the Cure in Salt Lake City. A group of friends went to participate in support of our friend Jes who had surgery to rid herself of cancer. (p.s. I hate cancer.) She is doing awesome and is SO loved!

Our team was called "Wish Upon A Star". We were encouraged to wear plenty of pink to show our support of kicking breast cancer in the trash, so I found this amazing ensemble at the local thrift store for only $15 total! Can you believe it? I wish you could see my awesome pink shoes, too. And don't you love the wand?

When we found out that roughly 18,000 people would be participating in this event, we decided to ride Trax in to Salt Lake. That ended up being a very wise decision because the streets were PACKED! On the way up my friend Clint and I lamented over the fact that there was no way we would find Jes among a crowd of 18,000... but all was well. We had a post-race meeting spot all planned out already.

When we exited Trax, miracle of miracles, there was JES and her family! She had ridden in on the very same train as we had, just one car up. We got to walk the whole route with Jes and quite a few others in our group.


The shirts that people came up with were my favorite part. I didn't think to take pictures of everyone's shirts until the end, when I saw this one:


But a few of my other favorites were:

"We're Walkers For (insert name here)'s Knockers"

"Save second base!"

(On a man's shirt) "I'm here for the boobs."

I am not sure that words can really express the awesome feeling of being one person in a sea of 18,000 - all there united in one cause.

It. Was. Amazing.

I am not sure pictures can show it accurately, either, but that's what you're gonna get...


Here's Team Wish Upon A Star:


I think our shirts said it all...

Counting Down

I haven't been online much this past month. Have you noticed? Life has been so full!


We had our #1 favorite family reunion with Allen's parents & siblings.

We have been invited to TWO family weddings.


Coolister, ElemenoB and Thumbelina went off to do some service projects and then river rafting at Youth Conference for THREE days.

(No official photos yet... they get back today.) photo from griffithexp.com

FOUR princesses accompanied me to the local Princess Festival.


I basked in Girl's Camp for my FIFTH year as a leader.

I enjoyed a lovely backyard tea party with SIX wonderful ladies.


We found out that our sweet aunt Marie returned to heaven SEVEN days ago. Her funeral is today.


EIGHT of my kids slept...

while Princess made a card...

to go with our traditional Father's Day breakfast in bed.


Allen and the oldest two kids ran NINE legs for their team in the 188 mile Ragnar Relay.


And Little O is finally able to wear this shirt that I bought for him almost a year ago. I was worried it wouldn't fit...

...but it does! (This means that number TEN's arrival in '11 will make us a family of TWELVE.)

In short, life is good.

So, so, so wonderfully, happily, crazy-in-the-best-way, marvelously good.