Sophie attended the first of a two-day soccer camp this morning. Her only soccer experience prior to this was in her PE classes. She was nervous being a novice, but was all smiles when I picked her up.
Showing posts with label news. Show all posts
Showing posts with label news. Show all posts
Thursday, June 12, 2025
Wednesday, September 13, 2023
Off Course
Look, I'm a hurricane! No wait, this is a different Margot. But if you look at the highlighted portion below you'll see that we do have something in common.
Monday, February 28, 2022
The People
For many years we've discussed world events with our kids. We made the choice early on to talk with them about big and scary things, not because we wanted to frighten them, but because we knew if we didn't someone else would. This often happened when they attended school in person. A friend or teacher would mention something that had happened and the kids would come home and ask questions. I guess you could say that awareness of current events is part of our family culture.
Bryan and I had been watching Russia encroach on Ukraine, holding our collective breath, praying that they did not invade. Last Thursday morning we woke to news that Ukraine was under attack. We were both heartsick. Peter and Phoebe are both avid headline readers, so they were also aware of what was happening early on. We've talked with them and tried to answer their questions.
I keep thinking about the people. There are good and innocent people in Ukraine, people who are being attacked, people that are being driven from their homes and their country. And there are good and innocent people in Russia, people that do not support the wicked actions of their leader, people that are being imprisoned for speaking against him and his horrible actions. It hurts my heart.
And I'm worried about what will happen if the leader of Russia claims Ukraine. Will he press forward? Will one country be enough for him?
We will continue to fast and pray for the people of Ukraine, for the people of Russia.
I wish I could do more.
Monday, February 15, 2021
Progress
Friday night was rough.
We had suspected that Cooper's swelling was due to his scratching. We were finally able to get him to sleep around one o'clock on Saturday morning by holding his hands so he couldn't scratch himself and doing a deep breathing exercise with him. I suggested that Bryan head to bed so he would have some rest in case he needed to take Cooper back to the ER. I offered to stay with Cooper and hold his hands so he wouldn't scratch. There were several times throughout that night that he tried to pull his hands away to rub at his face. I held on tight and prevented that until 6 AM, which is when I finally crashed. It helped though, his face was not as swollen that day.
We also made the choice to increase the Benadryl from every six hours to every four hours. This made a huge difference. By Sunday afternoon the hives appeared to be mostly gone, however his hands, feet, and face were all swollen, though not in the same way they'd been swollen from the scratching. By bedtime last night I wondered if we were done with the hives.
He had them again when he woke up this morning. They were mild compared to what they had been, but still visible. We hadn't woken him up at 3am for a Benadryl dose, which is possibly why the hives came back. They've been much calmer and milder today as we've stayed on top of the medicine. He's still itchy and doesn't want anyone to touch him, but it's so much better than it was.
Our goal tonight is to send him to bed at his regular 8:30 bedtime, then not give him medicine until 7AM tomorrow. We all need the sleep. This will be the longest he's gone without Benadryl since he started taking it on Wednesday.
The next step is determining the cause. He's been keeping a food journal since the ER visit. In order to have an allergy test done he needs to be symptom and allergy medication free for two weeks. So once the hives are gone we'll ween him off the Benadryl. Hopefully we can do that without a recurrence.
Thank you for your comforting messages, it makes a difference.
Friday, March 8, 2019
Baller
Peter stayed at school late three afternoons this week to tryout for the volleyball team. Good news: he made it! Of course, only eighteen people tried out and the coach decided not to cut anyone so they all made it, but we're still counting it as a win! I think Peter is happy about it. This week he's been explaining what he's learned about volleyball and talking about various techniques and watching clips of the BYU men's volleyball team and leaping through the house showing us how high he can jump. Yeah, he's looking forward to it.
Peter's schedule is going to be a lot more exciting for the next month, but that's okay, I'm excited for him to try something new.
Peter's schedule is going to be a lot more exciting for the next month, but that's okay, I'm excited for him to try something new.
Thursday, May 17, 2018
This Is the Story of a Boy
We've now had our sweet baby boy for a week. This is the first opportunity I've had to do more than post a quick picture. Here's a bit of his story.
A week past his due date I was given the option to carry on to 42 weeks or schedule an induction. I'd never been induced, never wanted to be induced, I like when the babies come on their own. But I felt like I should take them up on their offer, which caused a lot of internal confusion and questioning. Bryan gave me a blessing of comfort and counseled me to follow my instincts.
So I scheduled the induction.
It felt odd walking into the hospital without being in labor. Bryan and I arrived at 7:30 in the morning and by 10AM I was hooked up to pitocin. I was told that they would start me at a level two and bump me up every half hour. Eight was my magic number because once I hit that level my contractions were coming every two minutes.
I chose to have an epidural, which helped, sort of, after the intense pain passed from the anesthesiologist hitting a nerve in my leg while he administered the medicine.
After a little more than five hours of pitocin, I was at a six. The doctor was pleased with how things were progressing and said she'd be back in an hour to check me. That's when the contractions got stronger. A lot stronger. I told the nurse this and indicated the huge mountains showing up on the contraction monitor only to be informed that I couldn't really judge by the visual readings. No, I responded, but I could judge by what I was feeling.
In very short order I discovered that the epidural was going to one leg and not the other. The nurse had me roll onto my side to help shift the medicine. That's when the pain of the contractions really hit. I believe the nurse thought I was being dramatic as I was curled into a ball and having trouble breathing through the pain, after all the doctor had just checked and the baby wasn't ready to come.
Except he was.
I told the nurse several times that we were very close and finally said, "I need you to go get the doctor now," in a forceful tone. This was between ten and twenty minutes after the doctor had checked me, I wasn't looking at the clock and those are the time estimates I was given. The doctor came back and barely had her gloves on in time to catch our sweet boy. I wasn't kidding, I knew it was time. Since this was my fifth experience doing this I was surprised the nurse didn't believe I understood the process.
He let out a big, long wail and let us know right away that he won't have trouble being heard in our loud household.
Between the hit nerve and the numbing medicine going to one side, I didn't regain feeling in my right leg for more than twelve hours after he was born, which wasn't swell. Even then it took several more hours for me to walk correctly.
But thankfully all the stuff that went wrong had to do with me. Our sweet boy came out perfect. He was our biggest baby at 8lbs 11 oz and 20 inches long, though we think he wasn't completely stretched out since he's fairly tall. He is cuddly, a great eater, a good sleeper, and loves to play with his daddy. The kids adore him, especially Sophie who gives him as many kisses per day as she can get away with.
There's only one thing he's missing, and after reading this post perhaps you can guess what it is.
A name.
That's right, he's a week old and still doesn't have a name. We're stumped. I've had family and friends sending me lists of name suggestions, but none of them are his name. We have until Friday to make a decision, according to the record office at the hospital, so at least we have a deadline. Sophie was firm that we stick with Bob Anderson, until yesterday. That's when she announced that we should name him Lightsaber.
Today? Today she called him Starburst.
Don't worry, she won't have the final say.
A week past his due date I was given the option to carry on to 42 weeks or schedule an induction. I'd never been induced, never wanted to be induced, I like when the babies come on their own. But I felt like I should take them up on their offer, which caused a lot of internal confusion and questioning. Bryan gave me a blessing of comfort and counseled me to follow my instincts.
So I scheduled the induction.
It felt odd walking into the hospital without being in labor. Bryan and I arrived at 7:30 in the morning and by 10AM I was hooked up to pitocin. I was told that they would start me at a level two and bump me up every half hour. Eight was my magic number because once I hit that level my contractions were coming every two minutes.
I chose to have an epidural, which helped, sort of, after the intense pain passed from the anesthesiologist hitting a nerve in my leg while he administered the medicine.
After a little more than five hours of pitocin, I was at a six. The doctor was pleased with how things were progressing and said she'd be back in an hour to check me. That's when the contractions got stronger. A lot stronger. I told the nurse this and indicated the huge mountains showing up on the contraction monitor only to be informed that I couldn't really judge by the visual readings. No, I responded, but I could judge by what I was feeling.
In very short order I discovered that the epidural was going to one leg and not the other. The nurse had me roll onto my side to help shift the medicine. That's when the pain of the contractions really hit. I believe the nurse thought I was being dramatic as I was curled into a ball and having trouble breathing through the pain, after all the doctor had just checked and the baby wasn't ready to come.
Except he was.
I told the nurse several times that we were very close and finally said, "I need you to go get the doctor now," in a forceful tone. This was between ten and twenty minutes after the doctor had checked me, I wasn't looking at the clock and those are the time estimates I was given. The doctor came back and barely had her gloves on in time to catch our sweet boy. I wasn't kidding, I knew it was time. Since this was my fifth experience doing this I was surprised the nurse didn't believe I understood the process.
He let out a big, long wail and let us know right away that he won't have trouble being heard in our loud household.
Between the hit nerve and the numbing medicine going to one side, I didn't regain feeling in my right leg for more than twelve hours after he was born, which wasn't swell. Even then it took several more hours for me to walk correctly.
But thankfully all the stuff that went wrong had to do with me. Our sweet boy came out perfect. He was our biggest baby at 8lbs 11 oz and 20 inches long, though we think he wasn't completely stretched out since he's fairly tall. He is cuddly, a great eater, a good sleeper, and loves to play with his daddy. The kids adore him, especially Sophie who gives him as many kisses per day as she can get away with.
There's only one thing he's missing, and after reading this post perhaps you can guess what it is.
A name.
That's right, he's a week old and still doesn't have a name. We're stumped. I've had family and friends sending me lists of name suggestions, but none of them are his name. We have until Friday to make a decision, according to the record office at the hospital, so at least we have a deadline. Sophie was firm that we stick with Bob Anderson, until yesterday. That's when she announced that we should name him Lightsaber.
Today? Today she called him Starburst.
Don't worry, she won't have the final say.
Monday, January 1, 2018
2018
Surprise! Happy New Year from all seven of us! Baby boy will join us sometime around early May.
Can you tell that Sophie's excited?
Can you tell that Sophie's excited?
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
The Right Place
We're not going to be homeless!!!
HUZZAH!!!
A week after applying for a townhouse in the school district and ward that we felt very inspired to live in (which had exactly one other rental available, and yes, we had applied for that too), a week that was full of agonizing stress and fear and the kind of worry that makes it hard to breathe, after a Priesthood blessing from Bryan which counseled patience, we found out we will have a place to live for the next two years. Two years in one place!? That sounds like forever for us.
A week ago Monday we had two applications out, one in our preferred school district and ward, one in the other ward. The latter was our backup. As I was driving to the store with the kids, Bryan called to tell me that our second choice had turned us down because they didn't think we could afford it. I felt like someone had punched me. It was on the higher end of what we wanted to pay, but still within our price range. I had a hard time turning my anger and hurt off.
A new listing popped up in my email while the kids and I were shopping. The sting of rejection still fresh, I was not overly optimistic as I opened the link. I parked in the toy section to review the information. With a chaotic whirlwind of children surrounding me, I scrolled through pictures, a feeling of urgency growing in my chest. I called Bryan immediately and told him I would go see that house right away if possible. He looked at it while we spoke and we submitted an application without even seeing it in person.
The next morning we visited three potential homes, including the property we'd applied for. It was beautiful in the pictures, but I was afraid it would have some terrible and unlivable flaw, like stinking of cigarette smoke, an absolute no for this asthmatic. But it didn't. It was large and lovely and just lived-in enough that I felt comfortable having our kids there. After seeing only a few rooms, Bryan turned to me and mouthed the words, "This is it."
My response? "I know."
And then we waited. And waited. And waited. Our realtor sent daily notes to the owners' realtor, asking for an answer. Two other people had applied right away as well, the landlords wanted to make a fair choice. And so we kept waiting. We continued to look at other properties. We finally applied for one more, another beautiful home that was in the wrong school district and a different ward and would have been the same price as the home that told us no.
We prayed all week long, first that we would be able to live in the townhouse we had loved, then to live where we were supposed to live, then to just not be homeless. We only had a week left in corporate housing and that fact played in a continuous loop in my head. By Sunday night, we were desperate. We knew that school started in both districts the next day, and our kids weren't signed up anywhere. I even seriously thought about homeschooling them for a while, you know, while we lived in our van and showered at truck stops.
The blessing that Bryan gave me had calmed my nerves quite a bit. It was easier to remember that everything would work out. I held tight to the word "patience" from Thursday night, when I received the blessing, until Monday afternoon when we got the call. The house that we wanted had picked us. A wave of apprehensive relief washed over me at the news. Until the contract was signed, I was still going to be slightly on edge, but so much of the fear melted away.
We signed the contract yesterday and did all of the paperwork to register the kids for school. We hope to complete that process today. We'll get the keys tomorrow and our packed-away belongings will arrive a week later.
Thanks to all of you that included us and our housing search in your thoughts and prayers. I truly have a testimony of prayer, and of patience.
HUZZAH!!!
A week after applying for a townhouse in the school district and ward that we felt very inspired to live in (which had exactly one other rental available, and yes, we had applied for that too), a week that was full of agonizing stress and fear and the kind of worry that makes it hard to breathe, after a Priesthood blessing from Bryan which counseled patience, we found out we will have a place to live for the next two years. Two years in one place!? That sounds like forever for us.
A week ago Monday we had two applications out, one in our preferred school district and ward, one in the other ward. The latter was our backup. As I was driving to the store with the kids, Bryan called to tell me that our second choice had turned us down because they didn't think we could afford it. I felt like someone had punched me. It was on the higher end of what we wanted to pay, but still within our price range. I had a hard time turning my anger and hurt off.
A new listing popped up in my email while the kids and I were shopping. The sting of rejection still fresh, I was not overly optimistic as I opened the link. I parked in the toy section to review the information. With a chaotic whirlwind of children surrounding me, I scrolled through pictures, a feeling of urgency growing in my chest. I called Bryan immediately and told him I would go see that house right away if possible. He looked at it while we spoke and we submitted an application without even seeing it in person.
The next morning we visited three potential homes, including the property we'd applied for. It was beautiful in the pictures, but I was afraid it would have some terrible and unlivable flaw, like stinking of cigarette smoke, an absolute no for this asthmatic. But it didn't. It was large and lovely and just lived-in enough that I felt comfortable having our kids there. After seeing only a few rooms, Bryan turned to me and mouthed the words, "This is it."
My response? "I know."
And then we waited. And waited. And waited. Our realtor sent daily notes to the owners' realtor, asking for an answer. Two other people had applied right away as well, the landlords wanted to make a fair choice. And so we kept waiting. We continued to look at other properties. We finally applied for one more, another beautiful home that was in the wrong school district and a different ward and would have been the same price as the home that told us no.
We prayed all week long, first that we would be able to live in the townhouse we had loved, then to live where we were supposed to live, then to just not be homeless. We only had a week left in corporate housing and that fact played in a continuous loop in my head. By Sunday night, we were desperate. We knew that school started in both districts the next day, and our kids weren't signed up anywhere. I even seriously thought about homeschooling them for a while, you know, while we lived in our van and showered at truck stops.
The blessing that Bryan gave me had calmed my nerves quite a bit. It was easier to remember that everything would work out. I held tight to the word "patience" from Thursday night, when I received the blessing, until Monday afternoon when we got the call. The house that we wanted had picked us. A wave of apprehensive relief washed over me at the news. Until the contract was signed, I was still going to be slightly on edge, but so much of the fear melted away.
We signed the contract yesterday and did all of the paperwork to register the kids for school. We hope to complete that process today. We'll get the keys tomorrow and our packed-away belongings will arrive a week later.
Thanks to all of you that included us and our housing search in your thoughts and prayers. I truly have a testimony of prayer, and of patience.
Monday, August 12, 2013
Details
Thanks for the congratulatory messages. We're all excited, perhaps Phoebe most of all. She tells anyone who will listen that she's going to be a big sister. And she's started marking time by two events: her birthday and when she becomes a big sister.
A few of you asked about how I'm feeling and the due date. Well, I held onto this information for quite some time before sharing. As in, I'm about halfway through the pregnancy. Since we're keeping up the tradition of us moving while I'm pregnant (seriously), I've been very thankful that this move has taken place during the energy-rich second trimester. Or at least, as rich as one's energy can be while growing a human.
Sometime after Christmas baby number four is expected to debut. All of my kids have been late, so due dates are really more of a nice idea than something I pin my hopes to. Also, we don't know if (as Phoebe says) this is a blue baby or a pink baby, but we'll find out. Moving to a different state and switching insurances in addition to switching doctors has delayed that whole process.
The first trimester? It hit me hard. I've never been as tired as I was this time. I was lucky that Bryan was home this summer because I could do little more than get cereal on the table for the kids, then crawl over to the couch and lie there. And I really hated food. A lot. No particular food aversions (except maybe hamburger, shudder), all food simply sounded disgusting. At least, it did until I made myself eat something. Then most things were amazing and delicious (except, again, hamburger).
If you look back at pictures I've posted during the past few months, you'll discover that I'm usually holding Phoebe, thus hiding my midsection. Disneyland pictures? I wasn't technically showing, but I had already started to get kind of soft around the middle. Also, I was really sick, so now when I think of Disneyland I get just a little nauseated. And I couldn't go on several of the rides, which bothered the boys because they wanted to share those fun experiences with me and they didn't understand why I was the one that always stayed with Phoebe while Bryan got to go on the exciting attractions. When we told them our news about two months later Peter said, "Oh that's why you couldn't go on rides! Why didn't you just tell us?!"
A few of you asked about how I'm feeling and the due date. Well, I held onto this information for quite some time before sharing. As in, I'm about halfway through the pregnancy. Since we're keeping up the tradition of us moving while I'm pregnant (seriously), I've been very thankful that this move has taken place during the energy-rich second trimester. Or at least, as rich as one's energy can be while growing a human.
Sometime after Christmas baby number four is expected to debut. All of my kids have been late, so due dates are really more of a nice idea than something I pin my hopes to. Also, we don't know if (as Phoebe says) this is a blue baby or a pink baby, but we'll find out. Moving to a different state and switching insurances in addition to switching doctors has delayed that whole process.
The first trimester? It hit me hard. I've never been as tired as I was this time. I was lucky that Bryan was home this summer because I could do little more than get cereal on the table for the kids, then crawl over to the couch and lie there. And I really hated food. A lot. No particular food aversions (except maybe hamburger, shudder), all food simply sounded disgusting. At least, it did until I made myself eat something. Then most things were amazing and delicious (except, again, hamburger).
If you look back at pictures I've posted during the past few months, you'll discover that I'm usually holding Phoebe, thus hiding my midsection. Disneyland pictures? I wasn't technically showing, but I had already started to get kind of soft around the middle. Also, I was really sick, so now when I think of Disneyland I get just a little nauseated. And I couldn't go on several of the rides, which bothered the boys because they wanted to share those fun experiences with me and they didn't understand why I was the one that always stayed with Phoebe while Bryan got to go on the exciting attractions. When we told them our news about two months later Peter said, "Oh that's why you couldn't go on rides! Why didn't you just tell us?!"
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