Sick of it

Just admit it, we all have days where we want to take over our own living room and dance in our undies, like we don’t give a rip. There are days where it would feel really good to karate kick the air and knock over a side table, like a rock star. Sometimes it just feels good to say, ‘Screw it, we’re moving to Jamaica' (or fill in the blank with any irrational urge.)

Lately I’ve been miserably sick. Since I found out I was pregnant (I’m 16 weeks, just about 4 months along) I have lived right on the verge of vomiting. I haven’t felt like myself in weeks.  I've felt trapped in my overrun house, like I can’t go out lest I barf in some stranger’s trash can, side walk, bush . . . (which actually does happen.) Time has been sluggish and life has been a drag.  My husband wants dinner and his clean house back.  My kids have stayed cute and happy but watch too many movies and walk around shirtless, snacking out of big bags of cereal.  I’m fed up with it all. Fed. Up.

This music video is liberating to watch.  It reminds me that if life isn’t going quite
how you’d like, well, have a sense of humor. Maybe even wreak a little havoc back.

Mikhael Paskalev - I
spy from André
Chocron on Vimeo.

Firth baby #3

Here's a pic of the newest, and final, Firth child, coming the beginning of May. The picture is a few months dated but I'm 16 weeks along. We're excited to have the new edition. We already have one brilliant boy, and one charming girl, so we're planning on letting this one surprise us and won't find out the sex 'til baby's birthday.

(p.s. I still haven't broken the news to my clients or boss at work so don't facebook it or announce it to the world, just yet.)

storm

Elsie got a pink umbrella a week before the storm. She prayed every day for rain. Then she got what she asked for, plus some.  Each day of rain for her was a good day, a day to be celebrated (with a pink umbrella.)

Thanks for all you that checked in on us during the storm. Luckily D.C. escaped most of the damage and power outages. The wind was wild and the rain crazy but we had a good time staying home and waiting it out.

Halloween Trick or Treating

Baby Dragon and Iron Man loved Trick-or-Treating.  They would have gone for hours if we didn't stop them.  Liam literally ran from house to house. Elsie, carried around a little purse and after every house would say "Day gave me candy!!" in her happiest 2 year old voice. 

We went with a group of friends and came back to their house for popcorn, candy counting. (Elsie saw this picture and said "Dats my people!")

500th post !

This week we reached our 500th blog post. In March it will be 6 years- 6 eventful, crazy, years since we started this blog. We started posting in Provo when it was just the 2 of us and life was ridiculously simple. 

Over the 500 posts this blog has given me reason to reflect, to put my thoughts to words, to take pictures, and a chance to laugh, over and over, again at my kids.  Writing an occasional post gives me an excuse to think. It gives me an outlet to communicate ideas and unload my mind.

This blog  is a journal.  Yes, I do my share of bragging about my kids, but that's not the point. I don't link it on facebook, even some of my closest friends don't know about it, and I like it that way.  It's not that it's exclusive, I just don't want to worry about photo-shopping or censoring my writing. I want this blog to be a place where I am myself and a place that feels authentically Firthy. 

 I feel like in my kids, in my family, I have a wonderful gift - a gift that lives thousands of miles from their friends and family. This blog allows me to do a little less hoarding their cuteness and dynamic personalities and gives me an opportunity to share them with people they love.

As I have looked back on our 500 posts I have laughed a lot. There have been lots of goofy moments, lots of fun days, and many nostalgic memories that if I could revisit and soak in again, I would. Mixed in the posts there are a few hard times, a few embarrassing posts I would rescind (my Sarah Palin endorsement and a few gloriously pregnant pics,) but they've always been outnumbered with good times that I treasure-  and I'd say that pretty much sums up my life. 

 In the past 500 posts we've all grown a lot. Some of us have gotten taller, all of us have gotten smarter. Brady and I have gone from newlyweds to seasoned parents. Brady went from undergrad, to masters, to (almost a )Phd.  I've spent many a satisfying day enjoying mothering with walks to the park, and snuggling up with my kids and a good book. Liam has gone from a little baby with spiky black hair to a a curious, gregarious, kindergartner.  Elsie has gone from crawling to riding a scooter while singing about dragons.

I can predict some of the the next 500 posts, but for most of them, like most of life, we'll just have to wait and see . . . 

Rugby

 For Brady, there is nothing quite like rugby. He loves everything about it- the tackling, the technique, the culture, the danger, being with manly boys. It's good to see him happy, and he's like a kid in a candy shop when he suits up to play. He's been playing in a mens league when he can and enjoying it.

(Rugby and I, on the other hand, have a turbulent relationship. I still haven't forgiven rugby for abuse over the years- the separated a/c joint, multiple concussions, and all the tweaks, sprains, and strains along the way. Lets just say, I won't be signing Liam up for rugby any time soon (or ever.))

Brady was on fire this game. He scored, had 4 assists, and picked up yardage every time he got the ball. The kids had a great time cheering for him too. Liam never tired of cheering "Go Dad!" over and over and Elsie loved to point and say "dats my daddy!"

Halloween Party

 I love Halloween parties. I love drinking punch out of steaming punch bowls, the treats, and all the ridiculous, somewhat tacky, decorations. We had a Halloween party this Friday and had a great time with friends, old and new.  We carved pumpkins, ate pizza and played a few games. Liam helped make monster invitations and decorate the house with cobwebs, spider rings, bats and leaves.

 It was fun to meet some of Liam's school friends and their nice families.

What grandmas can do once they're dead

I'm not sure exactly what grandmas can do once they're dead.   I'd like to think at major family events like weddings and baby births the deceased can get a guest pass.  Maybe they can make (non)appearances where they can hang out like invisible angels, felt but not seen.  And it only seems fair that they at least got to spy on their own funerals, right?

I'd like to think that on days when I could use their encouragement that I can say a little prayer to them and God, with all his infinite connections, will pass on the word. I like to think that some days I still make them proud and they are bragging about my cute kids to other dead grandma friends. Some days I'm pretty happy with an arrangement of meeting up in the next life. Other days, I would give anything to summon a warm grandma hug.

 I love the Mormon notion that despite death we are still connected to our ancestors and furthermore  that we need them and they need us. But what can we, the dead and the living, actually do for each other? I remember praying for my grandma shortly after she passed and abruptly stopping myself, asking "Is it ridiculous to pray for a dead person?"  The prayer was humorously similar to a prayer you'd give to send off a kid to college "Please bless that she'll have a good adjustment, please bless that she'll know we love her, that things will be okay . . ." But the dead probably don't need our prayers. That prayer was probably for my use alone.

 I love the idea of family members being our occasional helping angels or heavenly cheerleaders.  That said, I'd easily trade a little bit of this intangible, heavenly  'help' for a package of  my grandma's homemade cookies. Yes, the concept is comforting, which is probably why this idea is easily shared, but it hasn't been manifested in my experiences. At the same time, it came really natural to both of my grandmas to give, and give, and give, to their families and it only makes sense that on the other side, they're still on a roll.

The closest thing to ''beyond the grave communication'' I've experienced is a letter received from my already deceased grandma.   It came in the mail like a surprise from heaven.  It was actually written the week before she died, sent a few weeks after, and it was her love, her wisdom, her last thoughts.  I cherish this letter.  I wish that I could write back and another one would generate.  I wish I had a hundred more of them. But I guess I just need to appreciate what I've already received.

Part of my faith is a hope that death is not the end.  My gut tells me there are more long conversations to be had and holidays yet to be celebrated with my grandmothers. But some days, in the here and now, I just wish death wasn't so final.