The Sweet Life Sans Sugar

Reagan challenged me to a month of no sugar. No problemo, right? When I'm focused, I have obnoxious amounts of self-control. Or maybe I just like to be obnoxious, and telling everyone I was off sugar for a month was appealing. In any case, it was tougher than I thought it would be... a lot tougher, my friends.

For the first week and a half it felt like everyone was offering me free sugar. There was free carrot cake after church on Sunday. The bishop also had a huge, silver platter of assorted cookies on his desk. Some kind members of our ward invited our family over to their house for dessert. Then there were the seasonal things like the fresh apple cider donuts when we went apple picking. Girl Scout cookies were suddenly available from a variety of sources. Panera messed up my order and to make it up to me, they gave me a handful of my favorite cookie, the chocolate duet. Except these were the new chocolate duet sandwich cookies... with frosting.

At first, I pretty much compensated the lack of sugar by eating huge amounts of fatty stuff like burgers and fries. I had a really strong craving for some butter pecan ice cream one night but Reagan talked me back from the ledge. Every time I had to turn down a sugary delight, I cursed Reagan's name. Then it was done; the month was over.

I binged on sugar--mostly chocolate-- for three days straight. I expected every bite to be pure ecstasy but more often than not, it was a disappointment. Not to sound Canadian or anything, but American chocolate is disgusting. It's waxy and grainy. Snickers didn't satisfy. Even the new chocolate duet cookie was rather dry and crumbly. The month without sugar drastically changed my palate and I decided I was ready to quit sugar again. I didn't even have a birthday cake.

So now I'm going without sugar through the end of the year aside from Thanksgiving when I plan to have some pie and Christmas when I plan to have lots of goodies. The other day Ireland offered me some of her Halloween candy and when I told her no thanks, I'm off sugar, she responded, "Mom? When are you going to be ON sugar?"

I dunno. But for now, I definitely don't need it.

Tidbits

Ireland: Mom, how old are you?
Me: I'm 37
Ireland: So you're almost 40 because 37, 38, 39, 40!!!
Liesel: Actually, you're almost 100 because 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90, 100!!!

Eating a cupcake in her cupcake pajamas.

Ireland helping me to polish off a Peanut Butter Moo'd

Aunt Whitney has changed our lives by introducing us to energy bites. The girls get so excited when I make a batch-- they even prefer them over sugar cereal. No complaints here!

Brigitta plays hard. I can't even count all the bruises she has as they are an ever-changing kaleidoscope.

During the book fair, I purchased this Do-It-Yourself Diary of a Wimpy Kid that Liesel had been begging for. Now she practically lives with it. I suggested she might try Dork Diaries which is about a girl but nope, she's a Wimpy Kid fan for sure! 

Another pre-nap photo. My lipstick is Bite Beauty high pigment pencil in Tannin and I am in love! It's a fantastic shade of red for us pale girls. As an added bonus, the packaging doesn't look like lipstick so Brigitta has yet to break into it! But lipstick aside, isn't Ireland such a ham?

A dear friend of mine sent me a lovely bouquet during a particularly rough week (or two). These daisies were on the verge of wilting when I offered to braid them into Liesel's hair. She jumped at the chance and even brought them home from school all limp and shriveled.

It is sad that a first glance at my daughter like this didn't alarm me one bit? My immediate thought was, "What random thing is she eating now?" Good thing the top is washable! Brigitta is too :)

After weeks of back and forth with our home warranty company, they finally sent someone to fix the faucet in the whirlpool tub. The girls are in heaven. Just a squeeze of baby shampoo and they had clouds of bubbles to play with. When the bubbles popped, we just turned the jets back on for a few minutes and the fun started all over again. However, the jets scared Sydney and the water was a little too high for her.

People keep asking me if it's nice to have Brent home every evening. Oh yes, it's just lovely... for all of us!

Isn't Ireland getting tall? After I staged this photo with Liesel and Ireland, other parents did the same thing. Am I weird if I was a little annoyed?

Our realtor bought these pajamas for the girls which I love, but the fact that we caught a photo like this just before bed when the girls are typically hyper/cranky/half-asleep is nigh on a miracle! Kudos to Brent for making them all laugh.

I Am THAT Mom

Just 25 minutes until I have to be in the car, with the little girls strapped down, and on my way to pick up Ireland from preschool. A relatively small list. A desperation for those items on my list as well as a determination to get this taken care of. Target. Let's do this. Wait, that's Home Depot. Target's motto is probably something like, "Please ignore my child in full melt-down mode." Because it is inevitable.

I grab the first cart. No way can I strap Sydney down and put Brigitta in the back because I have enough stuff I need to throw back there that I can't risk her kleptomaniac tendencies. I strap Brigitta down and carry Sydney on my hip working feats of engineering in maneuvering my cart through the first couple of aisles. This isn't working. I try putting Sydney on my shoulders. She decides my high bun is atrocious and tries to fix it for me... or rip the whole thing out. I'm still not sure. This really isn't working.

I rush back to the front of the store, throw the few items I was able to grab into the ginormous cart-- the one with two child seats. As I strap in Sydney, I notice 1/2 of the strap is missing on Brigitta's side. Aurgh! She's old enough, she doesn't need to be strapped down anyway, right? I march purposely back to the grocery aisles. The cart has no center of gravity. It's like trying to steer a vortex. If I try to run over the tiniest piece of lint, one of the wheels locks up and squeals at me.

Brigitta has noticed the missing strap and she tries to alert me to the fact. "Help... I need help... Hey Mama..." that sentiment is cut short by Brigitta tumbling right out of the cart onto the floor. She's not hurt, but she wails anyway because I have been ignoring her. I dust her off, give her a quick kiss and realize I now have just 15 minutes left, 2/3 of my list to go, and I need to get through checkout which, at last glance, was 3 people deep among just 2 checkers. I accelerate to speed walking. My pants start to fall down. My shirt starts to ride up. I feel beads of sweat on my forehead. A trickle runs down my spine. No lie, my feet are on fire. This is the Target from hell.

The cart was loud before, but now I'm like a truck driving through a nitroglycerin plant. One shelf stocker actually looks afraid as I approach, hunting down the Cocoa Krispies that Brent refuses to buy but make my mornings so much easier. Brigitta is really getting upset about the stupid missing strap. I guess that spill onto the floor affected her more than I thought it did. She's angrily demanding my attention. "MAMA! MAMA! MAAAAMAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" My assurances that we are almost done go over like a pregnant woman on a pole vault. The other stay-at-home moms are looking at me over their carts filled with coconut milk, granola and 1 silent child while I careen through the store with my baby, my unstrapped toddler and my cart filled with 3 boxes of Cocoa Krispies. Only 7 minutes to go.

A new check line opens up and I unabashedly run for it (my pants are REALLY falling down by now). Brigitta has launched into a melt down. I ask the checker if I can have a sticker to calm her down. When I offer it to her she gives me a look like, "Eff the sticker Mom, you let me fall out of the cart onto the FLOOR! I told you I was missing a strap!" As I sign for my items, I joke to the checker, "This cart really needs to be serviced!" She gives me a courtesy smile that says she just wants me out of her line as soon as possible. When everything is loaded and I give the cart a push, I run over the tiniest piece of lint. The wheel locks up and the cart squeals at me. I don't even have time to throw a dirty, "I TOLD YOU SO" look at the checker.

I practically throw the groceries in the car and when I strap Sydney down in her car seat she decides to demonstrate her back-arching abilities which are QUITE impressive, I must say. Brigitta is still ticked at me and as I pull out of the parking lot, the orchestra of miserable wailing can be heard all the way to Terre Haute. The car clock tells me I have just enough time to make it to the preschool.

Oh yes, I am that mom.

MOSI

When the good folks at the University of Chicago Child Development Center contacted me about a study for Ireland, I checked the next free day at the MOSI and planned to make a day of it. Then they contacted me again asking if Sydney could participate. Bada bing! More college money never hurts. 

It's been a while since we've gone to the MOSI and this trip made me fall in love with it all over again. They had 2 free days back to back and I was delighted to find the masses must have gone on the first day because it wasn't horribly busy.

Ireland was one of the lucky few who got to stand right next to (and then right IN) the vortex.

Gita took one look at the baby chicks snuggling together under the warm light and told me they were sleeping and we needed to leave.

No trip to the MOSI is complete without some quality time at the Idea Factory. The water, the plastic balls, oh so fun. Ireland pushed a sweet-looking Jewish boy (yarmulke and everything) off the crane so she could get her turn.

When your shadow intersects with the raining dots, they pour over you. Brigitta could have cared less about those dots, she just loved seeing her shadow!

I stopped the stroller right under this curtain of dry ice fog. Sydney just watched it rain down on her. Horrible iPhone pic, I know, but very cool moment.

Even though the girls were getting tired, I just had to swing by the U-505 exhibit. It's one of my favorites and sometime I'm determined to go alone so I can take the tour and read every single plaque they have in there. Soooo very cool!

I texted Brent to see if there was any possible way we could make a membership happen. Free IMAX! Free special exhibit entrance! Members nights! Advanced notice of events! Oh how I miss it. He gently reminded me we just bought a house and our expenses need to stay low for the time being. Until we can swing the cost of the membership, I'm hoping to take advantage of the free days as much as possible!

The Park

With the first hints of cooler weather ahead, I've been trying to take advantage of the many parks in the area. Not only do the girls love it, but it makes the witching hours fly by. Once we are home, the girls are ready for a hot meal and a soft bed. Win-win.

Sydney's breath quickens and she kicks her little legs when she sees a swing. She spends most of her park time like this.

Liesel is rapidly approaching an age where pigtails with streaming bows just aren't going to work anymore. Until then, I'm going to keep her looking this young and innocent as much as possible!

My favorite thing about our trips to the park is watching the girls play together. Sometimes it's Liesel and Ireland spinning. Sometimes it's Ireland pushing Sydney on the swing. Sometimes its Liesel helping Brigitta down the slide. Sometimes the 3 oldest find a corner to just laugh and be sisters while I keep Sydney close. I know I've mentioned this before, but I'm so glad they have each other.

 

It may be difficult to tell from the angle I'm shooting this video, but this thing is slanted. I tried to explain to Liesel if she would just stick out her bootie as she hit the downward slope, then pull herself straight on the upward slope, she could go much faster. Believe me, I was suppressing a lot of laughter watching her do this crazy hip roll with her new friend. After I filmed this, I briefly set Sydney down to demonstrate. Oh man, 4 kids gives one a lot of bootie and I had that thing spinning so fast I almost couldn't get off!

Sydney's September POTD

She was rather mad at me for taking so long to retrieve her.

I know she looks like a drunk but first of all, those are all non-alcoholic and secondly, I have to keep everything close to me or Brigitta rips into it. 

Sweetly dreaming

Participating in a child development study at the University of Chicago. She earned $30 towards college that day!

 I lose.

Apple Picking

Ireland's class had a field trip to the Royal Oak Apple Orchard which parents were invited to, but siblings were not. As we are still new in the area, I don't know anyone well enough to leave my youngest two for the better part of a day. It pained me to think of Ireland missing out on the field trip so we decided to go as a family instead. 

Is it just me or are the best apples near the top of the tree? The following day Brent mentioned his back was unusually sore. I wonder why...

An unsuccessful attempt at a group shot of the girls:

At the store, they sold fresh, hot apple spice donuts. They smelled positively divine!

Brigitta didn't waste any time devouring hers.

This orchard was really fantastic. I found a really great recipe for apple crisp that uses chopped nuts instead of oats (which soak up the juices and never really gets "crisp"y). Even though the weather has been sunny and warm, apple picking put me firmly in fall mode.

Perhaps we'll make this a yearly tradition?

What Child IS This?

This:

This:

And THIS:

'Nuff said.

Matters of the Heart

My blogging has been rather stilted lately. 

As is usually the case, a lot has happened. I mean, A LOT. Enough to rock my world. I received a call on Wednesday morning from Reagan who was in tears. She asked me if I'd read Mom's email.  I hadn't-- I was in the throws of a particularly trying morning routine. That routine came to a screeching halt when I logged in to my email and read the following message from Mom:

Dearest Children, 

In anticipation of our return home through Israel next month, your dad checked in with the Area doctor, Bruce Barton, about his concern that he couldn't "walk too far without getting winded." There is considerable walking on the tour to Israel.

Dr. Barton referred your dad to a doctor Milne who performed an EKG, a stress test, and some blood work. Those proved inconclusive, so he had him return to the hospital this morning for an angiogram, where they shoot dye into the arteries to check for any blockage.

The result showed one artery was blocked 99% and another was blocked 70%. He was a walking heart-attack-ready-to-happen. It's a miracle they found it in time. This
is nothing they can fix with an angioplasty "balloon" procedure.

Therefore, he is scheduled for double-bypass open-heart surgery tomorrow morning. We realize there is nothing you can do from so far away, but we felt you needed to be informed, and we are asking for your faith and prayers on his behalf. Good mission friends are going over this evening to give him a blessing, and we have every assurance all will go well. He has a positive attitude and says, "let's get after it!"

The good news is South Africa is on the leading edge of cardio treatment. The first heart transplant took place in Cape Town, and they have the best specialists and equipment right here. Dr. Barton says,"this is the best place in the world for this type of treatment." 

We anticipate a 7-10 day hospital stay post-surgery, and then 4 weeks recovery before he can travel, and six weeks for full recovery. By then, we will be released from our mission and fly directly home..no London, no Israel. Dr. Barton will try to get us a direct flight.

I'll be back and forth to the hospital in the next few days, but I'll email you immediately with any fast-breaking news. Email will be the best way to get ahold of me for the time being. Your dad asked me to be sure and send you his love.

Love, Mom

The news hit me in a powerful wave. Reagan's tears made sense. I searched my heart for answers and immediately felt a calm. Dad would be fine. I assured Reagan as much. Honestly, I don't remember much else from that conversation. I do remember having similar conversations with the rest of my siblings and then my Dad's sisters. Going into each phone call, I tried to downplay it as much as possible but that didn't always work. A double bypass isn't exactly "routine" and we all know there are no guarantees when it comes to major surgery. Still, I felt deep in my bones he would be fine. This is not how Batman dies. I later learned Dad's situation was so tenuous, he wasn't even allowed to walk down the hall. He was literally a heart attack waiting to happen. 

I woke up on Thursday morning knowing Dad's heart was stopped. Brent urged me to get more rest as it was going to be another day full of phone calls and emails. I knew that wasn't going to happen. Somehow I felt selfish sitting there in my warm bed with my heart easily beating away. Dad was on an operating table being kept alive via machine. 

It wasn't long before I began receiving the phone calls, text messages and emails. Any word? In times of uncertainty, I find what people crave the most is information. Somehow knowledge is soothing when one's hands are tied. Having been the caretaker of Mom and Dad's house, I was in constant contact with them. Usually we would use the Vonage app to face-time but Dad is the tech in the marriage and I was confident Mom didn't know how to use the app. Luckily, I also had their direct number. After a few attempts, I finally got a hold of her. She wasn't supposed to be using her cell phone in the hospital. She'd been with Dad in recovery and he was fine. The surgeon said Dad has a "strong heart". Mom sounded so very tired; she hadn't slept since they found out Dad needed surgery. But she was doing OK and was audibly relieved it was over. 

As soon as I got off the phone, I furiously texted my brothers and sisters. I called Logan who requested I do so. Then I called my aunts. As the information disseminated through the lines of communication the family had set up, I finally stopped for a moment and let it sink in. 

It was over. And Dad was just fine. 

Thank God for miracles. 

Ireland's First Day of School

She wandered into our room at 2:30 AM and announced she needed to get ready to go to preschool. When Brent told her it was waaayaaayaaay too early and ordered her back to bed, she sobbed. At 5:30 AM he relented and let her take a shower. I tried to keep her busy all morning. I explained repeatedly it was only going to be for 1 hour on her first day. But the impatience of a 4 year old simply cannot be restrained. At long last, it was time to go.

Although I understand the purpose of having parents along on the first day of school, I knew it really wouldn't be necessary for Ireland. While all (and I do mean ALL) the other parents hovered over their children, I took a seat along the wall of the room and let Ireland do her thing. She dived right in, not once looking around to see if I was even there.

Ireland was excited to see a butterfly marking her backpack hook.

I love how her little tongue comes out when she's focused on something.

With her teachers Mrs. Campos and Mrs. Martin. Turns out Mrs. Martin used to be a parole officer. I don't know why, but I love that! Ireland's not going to get away with ANYTHING this year! And yeah, I used enough printer ink on that sign, I was going to snap as many pics with it as possible.

As we headed home, Ireland expressed her disappointment at how short the time had been at preschool. We are both looking forward to the regular half-day schedule soon!