Good Night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite. Have good dreams. And don't forget to say your prayers.

I can do it. I can do it. I can do it.

I should tell you about all of the funny things my kids have been saying and about how I painted my front wall again--yep, the same one I had just painted, and about the wonderful visit I had with my parents and Audrey and Seth this last weekend, but I had a hard day today and that's all that is on my mind right now.

After my last miscarriage and accompanying experience, I was scared that I would never feel comfortable getting pregnant again. However, as I prayed about it, I felt comforted and the desire to try again soon returned. Since then, I've been telling Heavenly Father that I would like to get pregnant again, and have been asking him to bless me with another pregnancy when the time is right for our family. Apparently, the time is not yet right for our family, because for the first time, we have been unable to get pregnant. On one hand I am very discouraged and disappointed about not being able to get pregnant, and on the other, I am grateful that Heavenly Father will not bless me with another baby until I am ready. I think what discourages me most of all, though, is knowing that I am not ready.

Many of you know that I got pregnant only a couple months after Brian and I got married, but I lost the baby at about 13 weeks. And although I was devastated at the time, as the next couple years passed, it became obvious to me that Heavenly Father was only showing me a little mercy by keeping a baby from me for a little longer. The timing had not been right.

A couple years later, I got pregnant and had Camp. By that time, I had learned a little more and Brian and I had figured some things out and life was pretty easy. In fact, I thought the whole mothering thing was a piece of cake. I'm afraid I began to be a little over-confident--so much so that when Camp was about nine months old, we tried and got pregnant again. Well, eighteen weeks later, I miscarried for the second time. And once again, it didn't take long before I was praying to thank Heavenly Father for not allowing me to get in over my head too early.

I'm dragging this out too long. What I'm getting at is that I have learned, and feel grateful that Heavenly Father has not given me babies until He knows I am ready for them. It's just been difficult admitting to myself that I am indeed not ready yet. That means I am not a perfect mother. That means I'm having a hard enough time with three kids. That means there are a lot of things for me to work on and lots of things for me to learn. It means I need to humble myself and be willing to change. Those are hard pills to swallow. Oh, and I know. The timing could be off right now because of things other than my not being ready yet. That's true, but I just feel like my not being ready is probably the biggest part of it.

It seems that way because truthfully, mothering as been a struggle for me lately. I love and adore and enjoy my children, but recently I have really been struggling--mainly with Camp. Brian and I have had a really, really tough time figuring out how to handle and discipline him appropriately and I have reached a point of complete discouragement and desperation. And while praying and reading my scriptures has been a great source of strength and help for me (like I've mentioned before), it has become clear to me that I need to be doing a little bit more. I need to be earnestly seeking revelation. I need to spend a great deal more time on my knees just thinking and listening. I need to simplify. I need to study. I need to be patient.

I lost control of myself today, and I am embarrassed by and ashamed of the way I handled Camp. Soon after, I found myself on my bedroom floor whispering, Please forgive me! Please help me! Please help me! Please help me! I waited.... I wanted to be faithful and feel counsel come to me, but I was so desperate. I called my mom and my sister who helped me focus and start developing some goals and a plan of action. Partly I felt guilty for not just letting some answers flow into my mind, but mostly I just felt so grateful to have a mom and sister through whom Heavenly Father has guided me so many times.

I'm now writing on Wednesday. Tuesday went so much better than Monday had. No losing control. No crying on the foam pad of my sheetless bed. No feelings of complete desperation. I felt hopeful and determined to start again and devote all of my time and energy to keeping myself in control and handling my children in the way that will ultimately be the most effective and the most productive. I'm reading Parenting with Love and Logic again. Ever heard of it? I know there are probably lots of great resources out there, but this happens to be one that I have read and has really made sense to me. It's funny because as I read it I am thinking, Man, I NEVER would have thought of this on my own, but it just makes so much sense. My sister is totally a Love and Logic parent, and while she may not be a perfect parent (and she may be), she definitely has what I am looking for: control. She has control of herself and of her kids. And she doesn't have control of her kids because she is a drill sergeant and finds a way to force them to do everything she wants them to do--in fact it's just the opposite. She has control of them because she has control of herself and doesn't let the way they act govern the way she acts.

So anyway, Brian and I are going to figure this out. Wish me luck. Pray for me. Don't be alarmed if you don't see or hear from me much. I'm just busy breathing deeply and focusing all my energy on choosing my words carefully and keeping control of myself. If all goes well, we will have a much happier home and a much happier family a few months from now.

P.S. I just put Dan in her room for hitting Jane and soon after I walked away, I could hear her crying, Mom, I need to go potty! Of course. By the time I got back into her room, it was already coming out all over the carpet. Breeeeaaaattthhhheee.

Love, Anner B

Dear Mom and Dad,

Now that I am a mom, I understand that nothing brings a parent more happiness than seeing the success and/or accomplishment and/or happiness of a child. So I want to share with you a little victory I've experienced of late(as a result of your example)--that I think will make you lean back in your chair and smile.

When I was growing up, I knew you both loved the scriptures because I saw you reading them heard you discussing them on a very regular basis.
And because of your example, I wanted to love the scriptures, too. I certainly valued the scriptures and believed and appreciated what I read, and I read them pretty regularly because I trusted what you and my other leaders taught me about their value in my life, but I hadn't gotten to a point yet where I truly loved them like you did. I wanted the value and power of the scriptures to be clear to me because of my own experiences.

And guess what? After years of practicing what you taught me and living through my own experiences, I have come to really love the scriptures, too. I can feel their power in my life. It's kinda like magic. I read the scriptures; I am a better mother. I read the scriptures; I am a better wife. I read the scriptures; I am just a better person. Along with praying, reading my scriptures lifts me to a higher place or something--making me more spiritually minded, I think.

And guess what else? I've discovered something else that is even more amazing: the Book of Mormon is so much more than just 500+ pages of words of wisdom. It is exactly what it claims to be: another testament of Jesus Christ. It has seemed that every other verse I am being reminded of the Savior's atonement and it's saving power, and of his mercy and willingness to continuously gather me 'as a hen gathers her chickens.'

So anyway...just thought you'd be glad to know I'm comin' around....
Maybe someday I'll even love reading Isaiah.

For Sale

Man, I seriously haven't had a thought in my head lately, so I'm thinking I'll just make this a state of our union address.

Camp started soccer and he loves it. He looks over at me every time he does something awesome to make sure I've been watching. Earlier this week, Camp received a nice card in the mail from the Primary President telling him thank you for being reverent at church and setting a good example and asking him if he would give the scripture and prayer today in primary. After I read it to him, he responded, "Well, we'll just have to write her a note back saying NO." Great. So I stewed a while about what to do. ( I told you what happened the last time Camp was asked to give the scripture and prayer: I did it while Camp stood in front of the primary kids kicking and punching me. ) I tried to think what Love and Logic would tell me to do. I called Sarah for her advice. Maybe I prayed about it. I'm not sure. But ultimately, I decided to ask Camp if having a little treat in his pocket would help him be brave enough to give the scripture and prayer. He asked what the treat would be, and he asked if I could still stand up in front of the primary with him. I told him I would stand up there with him and help him with the scripture and that the treat would be a plastic egg with a few candies in it. He agreed. So today he repeated the words of the scripture loudly and clearly and then said a simple prayer. No kicking. No punching. No fits. All because of a few M&M's.

Jane participated in one half day of soccer and then decided she wasn't quite ready for it yet. She'll have the opportunity again next year. In the meantime, she and Danin will continue to play and have a ball along the sidelines. Jane has the most adorable lisp. She cannot say her J's, Ch's, or Sh's--so they just come out in this super endearing nasally sound. I've actually wondered if she has trouble hearing and that maybe this little speech impediment is related to that. I'm not sure. I think we mothers always wonder at some point if each child is having trouble hearing. Anyway...Brian and I can't get enough of her speech. She and Danin love each other to death. They play "mom and kid" or "mom and dog" all day long. I'm usually not part of the role playing except that they call me grandma and I have to be careful not to answer when I hear Dan calling for her mom. Oh, man. Thank goodness for Dan. I don't think I could survive acting as Jane's dog for a whole day--panting and all. I would die. Do you all know that I don't like pets? I don't. Yesterday, Brian spent some one-on-one time with both Camp and Jane. It was Jane's first daddy-daughter date. She loved it, of course. Brian said that it took her more than an hour to finish up her burger and fries because she was so busy talking and dancing and squirreling around. And it was so funny because when she returned home last night, Danin was up to greet her and the two of them spent the next several minutes rolling all over the floor on top of one another like two reunited puppies.

Danin is in the perfect stage where she does little wrong. (What are they even talking about when they say terrible two's?) She's just one of the big kids these days. She cuts her own hot-dogs, wipes her own bum, doesn't wet her bed, washes her hands, puts on her own clothes and shoes--and she's super funny. Last night when I asked her if she wanted some more cereal (which is what we had for dinner) she said, "Yeah, baby!"

Brian's been training for his first triathlon. I'm super excited to watch him this Saturday. And he's continued to be busy with work, for which we continue to be grateful.

And me? Hmmmm....we'll I've read three books in the last month which is pretty good for me--all short, easy ones, but still. I read Star Girl, The Hunger Games, (both written for young adults)and The Christmas Sweater--all decent, but not fabulous. I've decided that I usually have issues with books that are directed at young adult audiences. I guess it's likely because I'm not a young adult anymore.
Becky came to visit last weekend as a birthday gift from Rachel and Stacy. It was more like a birthday gift for all of us. It was a fun visit, as usual, and we were so lucky to have one day of super good weather when we went up to the light house and to the beach below.

Other than that, I'm back to the business of putting the house up for sale. I had a lot of lookers last year but didn't manage to get a contract, so we'll see what happens this year. I'm getting antsy to get outta here because paying for an extra land payment (as well as taxes, extra health insurance, and the van) is starting to hurt. I stuck a sign out front, and had my first showing two days later, so hopefully that is a sign of good things to come. And in the spirit of making my home as marketable as possible, I painted over my red wall. Sad, I know. But on all the design shows, they always say that colors like that are too taste specific. And I don't want to scare away any old folks with a red wall. The problem is, the color I took a gamble on turned out to be a little bit less neutral and a lot bit more blue than I had expected, so I'm not sure I didn't make the situation worse. But old people tend to like blues better than reds, don't you think?


And did I already tell you that I added that grosgrain ribbon to my drapes? It's definitely a super modern touch, but I like it. I also added a bit more of my attempted artwork. Oooohh, and I got some scrapbook paper at a yard sale that will make for some fabulous holiday artwork come Christmastime....
Man, this post is boring. I'm starting to put myself to sleep. Better luck next time, I guess.

corn starch

I have this arrangement going with Rebecca. I give up going to the gym at my regular time on Mondays in order to watch her two youngest kids (while she volunteers in the classroom of her oldest), and in return, she watches my kids while I go to the gym later on, AND she is my go-to person when Brian and I go out of town over night. Great. So after Rebecca returned from volunteering on Monday, I took the opportunity to run to the gym and to the grocery store while she stayed behind with the kids. And while being at the grocery store without my kids normally accelerates my shopping time by at least 100%, this time the lines were long and for some reason, I was unable to find the corn starch. So I got in line and purchased the rest of my groceries and asked the checker where I could find it. She finished out the transaction and set aside my cart while directing me right back to the baking isle. Luckily, I found it this time, and headed back up to the register. OK. So here is the whole point of my telling you all this: as I approached the check stands with my corn starch, I saw Brian already in line with a couple things he had picked up for lunch. And he looked so good. And I felt that feeling. You know that feeling you got back in the day when you would see your crush somewhere unexpectedly? Yeah. I felt it! I hurried my steps and slapped his rear just as he looked over and noticed me. And he kissed me. Oh, man. I wished I looked good. I wanted everyone to see us kiss and know that we were together and I wanted him to be proud that I was his wife. As it was, I had just left the gym, and I was in my raggedy sweats. But he kissed me all the same and threw my corn starch onto the belt with his Cliff bars. He kinda rolled his eyes and smiled as I told him I felt like we were back in high school and he was treating me while on a date. He said the least he could do was buy his wife some corn starch. Man, I was so proud to be standing there next to him, feeling young again. I left the store still kinda swooning, thinking about how I get a little excited every time I see Brian's truck around town. I hope it always feels that way.

It's all over

One of the notable tragedies of my childhood was the discontinuance of Family Ties. I still remember the last episode and the way I felt as the cast all took the stage one last time. I'm not sure if I cried or not, but I definitely remember writing about it in my red journal. Its ending made me lonely. And is anyone else crazy enough to remember the song that played on the last episode? Could they have made it any more painful?

And then a couple years ago, I was introduced to Pam and Jim over at The Office, just in time to catch the last few episodes of the second season. No matter, though. Brian and I rushed right out as soon as we could and rented the first and second seasons. We sat night after night in front of the TV, laughing and bonding with our new friends. And I was vicariously living out practically the greatest romance of all time. I felt a little unfaithful--to be honest. I couldn't get enough. I was devastated the night we watched the last episode and I woke up sad and lonely--maybe even more so than when Alex left home (and left me) for a stupid job on Wall Street. I felt the same way I felt as a girl when Emily's family would leave after having been at our house for a while. I'd sulk around the house hoping to find a shirt or a sock left behind to comfort me. This time my friends were gone, and they had left no socks. I called out in my mind, Pam? Jim?.....Dwight? Anyone? I was alone.

That's kinda the way I feel every time the Olympics comes and goes. It's not that I feel like I'm making and then losing friends, though. It's that I feel like for a couple weeks I'm participating in something that is uniting my country, and the world, for that matter, and then it's all over and we're all back to living separate existences. Do you know what I mean? You know how I feel about cheering. So cheering with and for my country is big. And I'm sad when it ends.

So anyway...I'm lonely.

No more food talk

You may or may not have noticed that I have not posted the foods I have consumed over the last few days. And you may be reasoning that it is because Brian and I went away for the weekend for our anniversary and likely ate more than I was willing to document. You're partly right. Right about the eating a lot part, but not right about my reason for not having disclosed the details. The truth is, I have a certain very dear friend (whom I promised not to name) who was brave enough to tell me that my food posts were not a good idea for a multitude of reasons--not the least of which being that lists of soggy cereal and leftover spaghetti do not make for interesting reading. And while I appreciate her setting me straight, I've got to say, I'm a bit disappointed because being accountable to you for the things I've been eating really has been helping me. Nevertheless, from now on, I'll be forced to do my best to control my eating habits because it's the healthy thing to do and not because others might otherwise think I'm a pig. So that's it.

But Brian and I really did have a fantastic weekend away. We went to dinner with Jen and Tim, ate Pizza Pipeline bread sticks and watched a little of the Olympics, and then headed to Dez's and Nate's house to spend the night. In the morning, Dez made us a delicious breakfast and then we headed out to do some shopping--or looking, rather, for the most part. It was totally laid back and totally cool. Brian had me laughing a good part of the time, and seriously--what's more romantic than that? Not much, in my mind. Later in the day, we met up with Dez and Nate again, who treated us to dinner, and we then stopped to pick up some groceries before heading home.

So tomorrow, actually, marks our ninth wedding anniversary. Yep. That's right. We've enjoyed eight really good years. Ha Ha. And as it turns out, I don't like Brian as much as I did when I married him nine years ago. I like him more. Happy Anniversary, Sexy.