"Will I ever get caught up? (hint: not a chance)

The fact that I haven't posted in over two weeks is a testament to how crazy my life has been lately.  I was blessed to have been asked to help with the Festival of the Nativity and it was a great experience but I am not going to lie, I am still playing catch up and at this point I'm about to accept the fact I won't get caught up.  Like ever.  The thing is, it's easy to get overwhelmed by everything I'm not getting done and the list is growing.  For example:

1.  Christmas decorating.  We finally managed to get our tree up but there is a squishy pumpkin still on my porch from Halloween.  I am not making that up.  That pumpkin is two months old!

2.  Again with the decorating:  I just got our advent calendars up.  And we are already 12 days into the month.  I had purchased these really cute advent Disney ornaments that you fill with candy but I felt so guilty looking at them still in their packaging that I exchanged them for some comfy jammies which I am currently lounging in.

3.  Christmas cards.  Not. Going. To. Happen.

4.  My bedroom.  I really wish I wasn't so lazy because I would take a picture of my bedroom for you.  It aint pretty.  We have been digging our clean laundry out of the laundry basket for the last two weeks and my nightstand looks like it could be featured on "Extreme Hoarders."

5.  Christmas shopping--not even close to being done.  Do kids still expect Christmas presents these days?

6.  Cooking.  Out of the last 10 days I have cooked a real meal a total of 2 of those days.  2.

And on and on it goes. And yet, I have found that I am learning to let some things go and let others help.  Friends have helped with carpools, Dave took over dinner for three of the nights, and I'm trying to be better about having the kids help.  In fact, one of the best things that has come out of me asking for help is turning over our "Elf on the Shelf" duties to one of the boys.  That has been a whole lot of fun and a whole lot of creepy--you've probably seen the pictures on Facebook:-)

So I've decided that I'm just going to chill out a bit.  So what if quesadillas are on the menu for the third time this week?  It's ok that my pile on the tub has birthed another pile on the bathroom floor.  The world is not going to come to an end if the second Christmas tree doesn't get put up.  (But I am throwing away that pumpkin--nast.)  Because all that matters is that I'm trying...

Is that a Lama??

Every year I leave the holiday season thinking that there was more we could have done as a family to really embrace the true meaning of the season.  And yet, I can never quite put my finger on what that should be other than I feel like we should spend a little less time thinking of us and a little more time thinking of others.  That's why when I saw a FB post last week from a local church asking for help serving Thanksgiving dinner to the homeless I jumped at the chance to participate.  Now, I have good kids who really are great about appreciating what they have.  Maybe it's because there are so many of them and they've spent a lifetime sharing pretty much everything--video games, toys, friends, clothes, etc.  Regardless, I'm grateful that they see the blessings afforded them in this life.  However, sometimes we get a little too caught up in ourselves and so I thought it would be great to start the holidays doing something for those less fortunate.

That's why at 11 am today you found us headed to a local church that was not our own.  Now, going into this adventure the kids were willing, if not a little leery.  You see, this was outside our comfort zone and if there is anything us Morgan's like it's comfort--doing what we know.  We eat the same food, go to the same restaurants, watch the same episodes of a TV show over and over.  I mean, we go to Disneyland every year and I think part of the reason is that we could get around the park with our eyes closed.  I guarantee you that if you put a blindfold around any of our kids, turned them around three times and pushed them in a direction they could get to the castle strictly by following the sounds of the Matterhorn and the smell of churros.  So feeding the homeless was going out on a limb for us.

But here's to show you that sometimes the lessons you set out to teach your kids aren't learned in the way you thought they would be.  You see, there were about 100 volunteers and a total of 12 homeless people.  Yep, 12--and I felt a little sorry for those 12 because that was an approximately 8-1 ratio as far as volunteers go which was pretty overwhelming.  I had envisioned my family talking with and interacting with those less fortunate and from that, they would step outside their comfort zone and experience something new.  Here's the thing, they did gain just that--but not in the way I thought they would.

For those of you who don't know us too well you need a bit of background.  We are LDS (Mormon) and both Dave and I were raised in the church and of course our children are as well.  We are well versed in our LDS culture and that is what our kids "know."  In fact, I don't think any of our children had been to another church ever, until today.  And let me tell you, it was WAY different than what we are used to.  For starters, there were Lamas there.  Lamas!!! And an ATM machine.  And a gift shop.  And video cameras!  Now, that's not to say that's bad, it was just WAY different than what we were used to and so we used that as a teaching opportunity.  It gave us great insight into how others who come to our church might feel for the first time.  ("Where are the lamas?  You have no lamas?")  It allowed us to recognize how grateful we are for our friends and church family that we know so well as we were strangers to this church today and that was really uncomfortable.  It caused me to reflect on how sometimes we get so used to what we have that we don't take the time to appreciate it when we don't have it.  

All of this leads back to the challenges I continue to face in getting more organized and teaching my kids self reliance.  It's so easy to do what's "comfortable" but it's by stepping outside that comfort zone that real change can happen.  And I think lamas are also involved--I'm just now sure how yet...

Embracing Imperfection

My original goal when I started this blogging adventure was to find a way to be held accountable for trying to get myself and the kids organized.  I think that was a noble goal but I've realized that all that's really come out of it is that I'm starting to realize that I'm a little bit (maybe even a lot) crazy.  Every night I lay awake thinking about all the things left on my to-do list and I can't figure out why I can't seem to get on top of them.  It doesn't seem like it should be that difficult and yet, it is.

Have you heard that story about the grasshopper and the ant? Basically it defines two types of people.  Lousia Plummer, a modern day author had a unique take on the story.  First, there is the ant who is an industrial, hard working soul.  The ant's home is always tidy.  Her children eat home cooked meals every night, never have to scrounge through the sock basket for two socks that match and  every evening their homework is done, piano practicing is complete and all 12 of them are in bed on time. (Or something like that.)

Then there is the grasshopper.  The grasshopper is the opposite of the ant.  Her house is messy but that's because she's neck deep in finger painting with her toddler, baking bread for a sick neighbor and writing the script for the upcoming school play.

The moral of this modern day story is that even though the grasshopper and the ant are different--they both have a lot to offer and neither one is "better" than the other one.  I really love that idea and I've spent a lot of time thinking about which one I am and I've come to the conclusion that I'm neither.  I'm a gnat.  You know--those little bugs that are easily distracted, attracted to the light and seem to congregate over a recently shampooed head of hair?  Case in point:

This morning I headed out to the gym with two goals in mind.  First, I needed a work out.  Secondly, I had a Weight Watchers meeting to lead in a couple of hours and I still hadn't prepared so I thought I could kill two birds with one stone and burn a bunch of calories on the eliptical while studying up for my job.  This was a good plan that went completely out the window when I walked by the aerobics room and heard some funky music playing which sounded like a whole lot more fun than the original plan.  So, like one of those pesky gnats drawn to light I made a bee line for "Belly Fit."

Now, if you have not had the pleasure of experiencing "Belly Fit" I will explain.  Its sort of like a cross between aerobics and yoga with a whole lot of flower child, mumbo jumbo thrown in.  I'm really not the new age type but like I said, it had some funky music that was calling to me.  So there I was, "throwing my earth fireball" and "stirring my pot of energy" (I am not making that up) and thinking about why I can't seem to get my act together.  This went on for the next hour and the whole time I'm trying to "unleash my inner goddess" I'm thinking, "forget the inner goddess I just want to know why does an organized life seem to elude me?"  What is the solution?  And then, as I lay on the floor at the end of my work out (you know it's a good class when you get to practically take a nap at the end) I  got in touch with my "heart center", "embraced my imperfection" and attempted to accept it.

I'm probably not ever going to have a perfectly clean house.  It's not going to be look like it came out of a home decorator magazine.  There, I said it.  The chances of that happening are pretty much nil--unless I get a live in housekeeper.  Which I'm like 99.9% sure will never happen.  And I'm going to have to be ok with that.  My life is busy--and not just busy but full.  Full of kids and teenagers, and band boosters and church assignments, and service and work and dates and Baja Fresh.  And happiness.  A whole lot of happiness:-)

I'm not giving up--I'm just going to try to not be so hard on myself.  There's loads of room for improvement --but I'm going to try to be ok with small gains--like matched socks--instead of a complete overhaul.  And who knows?  Maybe all those small gains will add up--to a whole laundry room full of folded clothes.  In the meantime maybe stirring my pot of energy wasn't a bad way to spend my morning after all.  I'll get in touch with my happiness chakra and get back to you.


P.S. I know you've all been kept up at night worrying about that smell in my den.  I know I was--I had visions of dead rats or raccoons or worse under my floorboards.  Dave, being the manly man that he is braved the crawl space and happily reported that there was nothing under there.  In the end, it ended up being our surge protector--how weird is that?  Jordan figured it out--he came in, took one smell and said it smelled like moldy electronics.  (How he knows what the smells like, I have no idea) but there you have it.  $24 later we had a new cord and the smell was gone.

What is that smell?

There is a seriously funky smell coming from under our house.  It started a couple of days ago and seems centered in the den--at first I thought it was just the "boy funk" which seems to creep in there after one or more boys has spent time holed up in there playing Minecraft for hours on end but alas, it is not.  I know what you're thinking:  something's dead under the house.  My thoughts exactly and those that know me know that a dead animal ranks right up there on my top 5 list of things that seriously freak me out.  And if it's a dead rodent that's like a top 3 event.  You know what freaks me out even more?  Live rodents.

I wasn't always aware that I have what can only be described as a phobia involving mice.  Nope--it made it's appearance about 9 years ago and if you haven't heard the story, well you're about to...

We had been having a bit of a mice problem in our kitchen cupboard.  These weren't little mice either--these were like corn fed muscle mice--and we'd caught several.  Then one afternoon as I was doing the laundry I pulled the clothes out of the dryer and guess what jumped out at me?  A MOUSE!  That was enough to warrant a call to the exterminator--a robust man by the name of Norm who not only had the biggest plumber's crack you have ever seen but also looked like the mice he was hunting had chewed holes in his clothing.  But nevertheless, Norm's strategies were effective and soon we had the mouse problem under control.  Or so we thought.  A few weeks later one of the boys was digging around in the cupboard under the stove and said, "Mom--I just saw a mouse!."  No way!  I instructed him to pour some poison back there and we called it good.  All was well until a few days later.

To truly understand what comes next you must first have a clear vision of the scene:  It was a lazy summer morning and I was wearing my pajamas and had yet to shower.  Also, in addition to my six children I was watching my sister's 4 children which made for a total of 10 (yes 10) kids under the age of 12 at my house.  As I rounded the corner smack dab in the center of the kitchen is a half dead mouse slowly dragging across the floor.  Sick!  "Ok" I think.  "I'll just go out to the garage, grab the shovel and scoop this sucker up and toss it outside. " So I get the shovel and I kid you not, I could not do it!  I was seriously freaked out--which of course is freaking out the 10 kids.  On to Plan B.  I figure I'll find a neighbor to do it for me.  The kids suggest  Christine Shurtliff across the street, and don't get me wrong, Christine is one of my favorite people in the world but when it comes to half dead rodents she's absolutely no help.  So off I go with me in my pjs, carrying my shovel with 10 kids trailing behind me.  Except our next door neighbor wasn't home.  Nor the one next to him, nor the one after that.  I have now freaked myself out enough that I know there is NO WAY I'm going back in there with that thing dying in my kitchen.  And then, across the street I see a new family just moving in!  Salvation!  So off I go (in my pajamas, no shower remember) holding a shovel and dragging 10 kids.

I introduce myself to this gentleman: "I know you don't know me but I have this situation..."  I then proceed to explain my predicament and after looking at me for a long moment he agrees to come over with his teenage son.  So off we go and guess what?  When we get to my kitchen IT'S GONE!!! Now, I know that that thing was nearly dead so it stands to reason that it couldn't have gone very far and the only thing worse than seeing a half dead mouse is NOT being able to see one that you know is there.  So, I'm up on the couch (with the shovel and the 10 kids) while these two strangers root around the kitchen for like 15 minutes.  Finally the guy looks at me and says, "Miss, I'm sorry but I can't seem to find it."  Uh...By this point I am seriously this close to having a major freak out so I look at him with a crazed look in my eyes and say, "You don't understand.  If you don't find it, I'm going to freak. Out."  The poor guy stares at me, nods his head and replies, "Ok Miss, we'll find it."

By this time his wife has come and after some more rooting around we eventually find it hiding behind a Target bag (of course.)  The wife PICKS UP the mouse with her BARE HANDS and starts petting it!!!!!  What????  As they head out the door the man looks at me and says, "You should probably have a drink."

So there you have it--a glimpse into more of my crazies.  I have more stories too--a bat in the fireplace, a squirrel in the attic but I'll save those for later.  In the meantime we're still trying to get to the bottom of the stench.  Dave braved the crawl space and says he can't see anything--I'm holding out hope that it might just be the pond stinking it up because heaven help me if it's something that was once living...

Candy Crush Anyone?

It's time for me to get serious about having a clean house...We had a sweet gas fireplace insert put in this last week and I HATE it when I'm embarrassed by the state of affairs around here.  I mean it's picked up generally speaking but then the guys wanted to use the garage.  The GARAGE people!!!  That's not fair.  And to get to the garage guess what they have to go through?  THE LAUNDRY ROOM!  So not fair!

 I am seriously wondering how people keep their houses all nice and straight.  Clearly they don't play Candy Crush...

I've narrowed down my problem before here on the blog--I'm easily distracted.  (Candy Crush anyone?)  But it's also a little more than that I think.  I always have like 7 different things going at once.  For instance, here are my current "little" projects:

1.  Completing on-line training for my job.  I like my job but that took about 2 hours this morning of me sitting in front of the computer and having to click "next slide" every 15 seconds.
2.  Revamping the children's rooms for the Festival of the Nativities--which is really great and I'm happy to do it but this involves me scouring Craig's List for things like burlap sacks (totally scored those last week!) and cool Tiki Huts (scored that too!)
3.  Hunting down auction items for the upcoming dance auction. (Hey--anyone want to donate something for that?  That's called multi-tasking...)
4.  Developing strategies for keeping one of my children organized when it comes to schoolwork (there's a whole other post...)
5.  Organizing the garage better--see previous comment about the fireplace guys.  So embarrassing...
6.  Planning my lesson for my young women on Sunday--ironically we will be discussing the value of hard work and being self reliant...
7.  Trying to get our pond taken out so we can replace it with a patio.  (Right now I just look at it every time I leave the house and think "stinkin' pond...")

But the thing is, other people have all of these things going on and still manage to be able to let people in the house without crossing their fingers that they won't have to actually use the bathroom while they are there.  Or worse, check the electrical box in the garage...

So what's the answer people?  How am I going to figure this out?  I've been thinking about this for a while now--ok more like about 45 minutes but for me that's a while--and I think I've got to do a couple of things:

1.  Acknowledge that while my house is not as clean as I like it, it's still a long way from being featured on "Extreme Hoarders," so there's that I guess.

2.  Set aside time each morning and evening for general pick up.  I really think that the general clutter could be taken care of in 10-15 minutes each morning and evening IF I actually did that every day.

3.  I'm going to revisit the "Fly Lady" website.  I used to really take advantage of that tool but like Dave says, "I think we drop kicked Fly Lady to the curb."  http://flylady.net

Wish me luck--it's pretty clear I'm going to need it.

PS:  By the way--check out my link here on the blog to "Everyday Mormon Women".  Recently I was asked to write a post for this great site and while it's a little more serious--it comes from my heart.  I was featured on Saturday of last week.  (Oh wait--there's item #8 on my project list!)
http://www.everydaymormonwomen.com/2013/11/bearing-burdens-with-christ.html

"Turning the other cheek--or leaf--as the case may be."

For those of you still following along on this crazy train you will know that my last post centered on the rude comment my neighbor made about the leaf situation at our house.  As you can imagine, this has generated a lot of comments from my family and friends.  When I told Dave about it he remarked that it was a good thing his "two hour wind dance" had paid off.  My friend Stephanie had a brilliant idea to take shifts under the tree to catch each leaf--I seriously laughed out loud at that one.  I am not going to lie--her comment seriously stuck in my craw, so to speak.  I found myself thinking about it every time I looked at the leaves and it was riling me up! I kept thinking about what witty comment I could make in reply should she happen to judge me again and by the end of the week I had plenty of them on deck, I'll have you know.

The other thing her comment did was make me NOT want to go out there and rake--like my own silent protest of sorts but a couple of days ago I bit the bullet and spent several hours over the course of a couple of days cleaning up the mess.  Here's the outcome:

We managed to rake up 15 bags of leaves and the yard is full again--and the whole time I was raking I kept thinking about that dumb comment and getting more and more feisty.  (Doesn't this woman know that I have a to- do list a mile long and raking up leaves falls below "Candy Crush" on that list?  Does she just sit around in her house all day judging my yard and if so, I can't imagine what she has to say about the recurring mole situation.  And if she thinks that poorly of my yard, heaven help us if she looks in the window and catches a glimpse of the sock piles and mystery plunger that seem to persist.)

Which leads me to yesterday--I was on hour three (3!) of leaf detail and by this point I had strapped the leaf sucker -upper thing to me and was plugging away when I looked up and guess who was in my yard---right in front of me?  Yep--THE NEIGHBOR!!!  As you can imagine, I was furiously going through all of my snappy comebacks I'd stockpiled because this time, for crying out loud, I was going to be prepared!  But guess what?  The neighbor sheepishly pulled out two pints of raspberries and offered an apology!  She told me she had been having a bad day and what she said was out of line and it had been bothering her for the last week!  At this point I was back to being speechless other than to say, thanks and offer this brilliant remark:  "It's just a really big tree."  (I know, I know--eloquence is speaking is apparently not my forte.)

So after all my complaining and obsessing and seeking for retribution I learned a valuable lesson.  I learned that sometimes we are just having a bad day and we say stupid things.  And on the converse side I learned that we need to be careful of saying stupid things because there are people out there (like me apparently) who will put way too much stock into those stupid things.

My goal for this week is to try to be better about letting things go--at least the things that don't matter.  In the meantime, I'm off to suck up more leaves.  Again.

"Really???"

Fall is in the air and while the colors are beautiful the change in season presents one challenge here at the Morgans:

This tree is ENORMOUS!  And while it is beautiful this is what happens to our yard:

So for the next few weeks it will be an endless battle to try to stay on top of these falling leaves.  I think last year we managed to rake up over 50 giant bags!  

This is a picture I took several years ago after one of our near daily raking sessions--and of course I have a story to go with it.  Just thinking about it is riling me up...

It was a really rainy day and our yard was (again) filled with leaves.  You can go out and spend two hours raking, go in the house to warm up and come back 20 minutes later to a yard full of more leaves. It's sort of maddening.  So that rainy Saturday morning I got all 6 kids up and we set out to rake the yard.  (This is a mothering feat in and of itself).  I was feeling pretty proud of the fact that all six kids were out there being pretty industrious and not complaining (too much) when our old lady neighbor pulled up in front of our house.  "How nice," I thought.  "She's coming to commend the kids on what hard workers they are being."  Uhhh..not so much.

Cranky neighbor rolls down her window, leans out with a look of disdain and says to me (I am not making this up), "I'm glad to see you finally raking your leaves up--they blow into my yard."

Seriously????  THAT'S what you're going to say to the mother of six who has like a thousand things to do on any given day and who is out nearly every day raking up piles and piles of leaves?  And you're going to say that in front of my children?  Needless to say this did not go over well with me but of course I was too stunned to think of a snappy comeback.  (I know, I know--my instinct should be to turn the other cheek, but dang it crazy lady, you try keeping up with a zillion leaves from a 50 foot tree!) Luckily, I have those boys with the Morgan wit gene so after we finished cleaning up I came back inside as one of them stayed out to "finish something up."  What was it, you ask?  Well, his own witty response to that mean old lady:  a sign staked in our yard that read"

"LEAF ME ALONE."

Hilarious right?  Man, sometimes I love these kids...And it seems like it might be time to resurrect that sign because today was windy and I came home to a yard full of leaves and guess who stopped by?  Yep--cranky neighbor pulled up to the house as McKay and Davis were leaving to rehearsal and instructed them to "clean up your yard--those leaves are blowing down to mine."  And McKay's response:

  "Yep--I'll get right on controlling nature for you lady."

So here's the dilemma--I was going to go out and rake but right now that is about the last thing I want to do.  What I want to do is take out my leaf blower and blow them straight down into her yard but of course, I need to be the bigger person.  So I'll rake...after a long windy nap...

I'm living in THIS?

We just got done with a fabulous visit from Dave's parents and brother this past weekend.  I tell everyone I meet that I have the world's best in-laws--it's the truth.  But what is it about having company that makes you look around your house and ask, "I've been living in THIS?"  I mean, I guess you just get used to living in your own mess and it doesn't seem that bad until you look at it through someone else's eyes.  Now don't get me wrong--my in laws are very nonjudgmental (or if they are they do a pretty good job of keeping it on the down low) so they aren't making me feel bad--I've got that covered myself.

Why is it that some people just seem to be able to always keep a clean house?  There's got to be some secret--because I see these houses on Pinterest.  And they are clean.  The problem is I have complete cleaning A.D.D.

Here's a recent example:

The other morning at about 7:30 am I decided that I would take the garbage cans and yard debris out to the curb for Dave.  He usually does it but he was under the weather so I thought I would help out.  Since we have already established that I am NOT a morning person I was still wearing my pajamas and my hair looked like I had just slept on it.  Oh wait...I had.  To further add to the ensemble the only shoes I had sitting by the front door were my black ballet flats, of course.  You already know how lazy I am so I slipped the flats on and set out to get the cans.  As I was putting the yard debris out I realized that it had been really windy and there were branches all over the yard so I figured I might as well throw those in there while I was at it.  Then I thought as long as I was doing that I might as well rake the leaves and pull some weeds (remember--the in laws were coming).  This is all happening while I am in my pajama/ballet flat/crazy hair ensemble which wouldn't have been a problem because my cul de sac is pretty deserted.  Except right then the yard maintenance guys for the neighbor showed up.  Well, I looked just fabulous and they must have felt sorry for me because they started cleaning up my leaves for me.  Well I figured I had some extra time now so I went back into the garage where I then saw my drill with the screw bit in it.  That reminded me that for the last 8 years--yes, 8 years-- I had wanted to repaint my house numbers.  So that explains why at 8:00 am I was standing on a 5 gallon bucket unscrewing house numbers and looking homeless while the neighbor paid for her guys to finish my yard work...

That is my typical MO for house cleaning.  I'll start out with one simple task and then get sidetracked by 4 others and usually the first task never gets completed!  I'll make lists and then forget to look at the list.  I'll write a reminder on my hand and then won't be able to remember what the reminder is for.  I've got problems people!  It's no wonder I keep losing all those kids at Disneyland...

Anyway--my goal for tomorrow is to see a project thru from beginning to end without getting sidetracked.  It's a lofty aspiration but with a little bit of luck and whole lot less of Pinterest it might just be attainable.

The Calm Before the Storm

As I sit here at the computer I was struck by how peaceful I actually feel for a minute.  The house is quiet with only two of the six here, dinner is cooking on the stove, the house is clean (alright--my bed isn't made and there are a few clothes on the tub but it's generally clean) and it feels...wrong.  I mean it's nice--but not normal.  Not at all.  Yesterday I actually felt like doing some halloween decorating which the kids were appalled at--"Mom--it's not even October yet!"  Yes, I understand but the chance of me having both the time and gumption once October rolls around is pretty slim.

Anyway, I'm taking a moment to enjoy it because life seems to be changing faster than I like some days and while change is good, it can also be hard.  I realized that I'm not the only one here who struggles with that sometimes.  Just the other night one of the kids was setting the table and switched his place to Carter's old place at the table and another child (again--they prefer anonymity on the blog) about had a heart attack.  Like, he was seriously upset about it.  So, the end of the table sits empty, sort of like a sad memorial to the brother away for the next two years while the rest of us pass mashed potatoes past the vacant place setting.  

But while change is difficult it's also rewarding.  I like that my kids are doing a better job of picking up after themselves.  In fact I remarked today that my child who I thought was a slob for sure actually has a clean room now that he moved into Carter's old one.  (Apparently the same mentality doesn't exist for bedrooms--comfort and privacy prevail there I guess.) Who knew?  He just needed his own space it seems.  The kids are doing their laundry.  I'm doing a better job at planning meals and more importantly I'm looking at ways I can let my kids be accountable more and make more of their own decisions.  Now granted, sometimes they aren't always the decision I want them to make but that's part of those growing pains I suppose.  And so, I guess I'm grateful tonight.  Grateful for the few minutes of calm before the storm (because the storm will come I'm sure), grateful for these six crazy kids and the one fabulous husband, and grateful for the chance to change and improve.  And trust me, there is still room for improvement--loads of it.

Dare I say: progress?

The back to school craziness is in full swing here at the Morgans.  Here's the calendar I spent 2 hours figuring out the other night:

I was pretty proud of myself for putting that together--I'm just hoping I still have the gumption to do it when October comes around...I cannot tell you the number of school years I started a calendar like this and got one or two months into it and then gave up because it was too overwhelming and then I ran all over the place like a chicken with it's head cut off trying to remember which kid I put where that day...(thank heaven's for smart phones because at least now I can set an alarm.  When I remember to take my phone off of silent--which isn't as often as I should.)

Another one of my main goals in starting this blogging adventure was to improve my children's resilience and self reliance and frankly, to improve mine as well.  I've been thinking a lot these last six months on how we raise happy, capable, hard working kids and I'd like to tell you I have the magic answer but I don't.  Because I don't think there is one.  Kids come with their own personalities, strengths, and flaws and that's the way it's supposed to be and for us to expect that just because what works for one will work for another is naive.  And I was naive.  I remember that as we continued to have boys thinking, "well at least I'll know what I'm doing."  Riiiiiight...and then came Kennedy and when she was born I actually looked at the doctor and asked if there was an instruction manual in there as well.  (Note:  there was not.)  However, we are managing to make some progress here at the Morgans.  (I hesitate to even say that because I'm afraid Karma might come back to bite me but what's life without taking chances?)

The one thing that has become apparent to me is that we MUST allow our kids to do hard things.  I love this:

We were discussing this with our kids last week for family night and one of them said that we need to find an uncle with a farm so they can spend summers there to learn the value of hard work.  No farmer uncle to be had here but we do have a cool Disney roller coaster building uncle!  (Does test driving roller coasters count as work?)  So while we may not have a beet farm to send our kids to we have started giving them some more responsibility.  Here are some examples:

Example #1--Laundry:  I blogged about this previously.  With all these kids there is always laundry to be done and while I was actually pretty decent at keeping up on it I really wanted the kids to know how to do it.  The older ones had been doing their own for a while but we now have ALL the kids doing their own--and they are doing a great job!  An added bonus of this is that I am finding that their rooms are staying cleaner with them in charge of their own laundry.   How, you ask?  Because after 20 years I finally figured out that if I gave EACH of them their own hamper in their rooms that clothes ended up in them!  Previously we had two hampers in the hall for whites and darks but I guess it was just way too much to walk the 8 feet out into the hall to put their clothes in them...(I know--this seems like a no-brainer but after six kids I think it's painfully clear I have no brain left.)

Example #2--there is no example #2.  When I sat down to write this post I really thought that I would at least have another example but apparently I don't.  Dang it!  But I'm not going to get discouraged because one example is better than no example!  Right?  RIGHT?????

My Disneyland Epiphany

I know that I devised this blog originally as a place to vent my frustration and hold myself accountable for some changes for myself and my children.  And for those of you who have been following along since the beginning of this little journey (and seriously, if you've managed to stay with me, props to you) you know by now that I haven't made a great amount of progress.  Honestly by this point I was hoping that my kids would be chore doing fiends and I'd be a picture of organization with chore charts done, calendars made and that GIANT pile of clothes on my tub a thing of the  past.  But alas--that hasn't happened.

BUT--I have realized something recently.  Most anyone who knows us knows of our love for Disneyland and when the planets aligned, not only did I manage to find and marry a man with the same last name as me (Kristyn Morgan Morgan!) but I found someone who loved Disneyland even more than me!  And so, Disney is part of our family traditions and our children have quite literally grown up in the Magic Kingdom.

Now while I love taking my kids there--because my kids are pretty dang awesome--it hasn't always been easy.  First, there are 6 of them.  And we lose some of them.  A lot. (See previous post). Also, they need sunscreen.  And slicking up six kids takes FOREVER.  Then there is the whole food dilemma.  They are picky and finding a restaurant where they all will eat is nearly impossible.  (And it costs a fortune to feed them--churros alone could force you into bankruptcy. ) And so with that in mind Dave and I in recent years have taken to going to Disney once a year alone.  And it's awesome--I highly recommend it.  I don't have to lotion up anyone but myself and the top of Dave's head, we get to eat wherever and whenever we want and I don't have to carry or push anything!  This year we had the pleasure of running in the Disneyland 10K--and it was AMAZING!!!

What was even more amazing is that we leave our kids home--alone--when we go.  And they survive!  They get along, don't throw wild parties (that I know of), GET THEMSELVES TO CHURCH, and have the house clean when we return!  So that's something right?  So when I get frustrated with my progress or the dirty socks on the floor or the nest of towels in the bathroom, I have to remember that the percentage of teenagers who would roll out of bed on a Sunday morning to get themselves and their siblings ready for three hours of church starting at 9 am has got to be pretty small.  And that means that the Morgan's can't be a total mess right?  I mean somewhere along the line something sunk in and so while we are far from perfect I have great kids.  They may leave empty goldfish boxes and nesquick cans laying around but they are great kids.

Where Did I Put That Kid?

Do you ever feel like you're losing your mind?  Because most days I feel a little nuts.  Let me explain.  I was over at the school the other day fitting band kids for uniforms and while I can create a super organized system for outfitting 130 marchers I can't seem to keep track of my pen.  Or my measuring tape.  Or my lists.  What the heck?  And the sad thing is this isn't unusual for me.  A couple weeks ago I spent an hour looking for the can of spray paint I had in my hand literally 2 minutes prior to losing it.  Luckily I found it--two weeks later.  In my bathroom...

I was telling this to some friends the other day and I mentioned that it was a wonder I can keep track of 6 kids--and then I realized that I can't because we've lost all of them at some time.  Here's just a few of the many examples:

Church frenzy:  Every Sunday it's kind of an olympic dash to get six kids up, showered, fed (ok--who am I kidding, they don't get fed.  Just this Sunday Kennedy was sneaking peanut butter crackers during the opening hymn) dressed, loaded in the car and to church by 9:00 am.  One Sunday we arrived at church, slid into our pew and I looked over and we were missing one suit with a boy inside it.  Mr. Davis was not there.  So back home I went and proceeded to find him under a pile of blankets asleep.  In his suit.

Disneyland:  I have a whole series of experiences losing kids here but two stick out in my mind and they both involve McKay.  The first was when he was about 18 months old.  This was back in the day when Disneyland had these old rickety strollers with a canopy that prevented you from actually seeing your child once they were in the stroller--what genius invented that?  Clearly not a parent of six kids.  We were at the park with a bunch of Dave's family and I had McKay in the stroller and was headed from Tomorrowland over to the castle to meet some friends.  I got to the castle at which point our friends asked me why I was pushing an empty stroller.  I said, I wasn't, I had Mckay in there.  Only he wasn't in there--he'd hopped out somewhere between Space Mountain and the Castle.  After a few minutes of frantic searching he showed up at the Star Trader hanging out with a cast member.  Then several years later we lost him again.  One minute we were all together and the next we boarded Heimlich's Choo Choo and we only had 5 kids with us.  Mild panic set in and security was called.  I used to dress all the kids the same back then (they won't go for that so much anymore, dang it) and when they asked for a description I just said, "he looks like that one."  About 20 minutes later he turned up in the lost child center no worse for the wear.

I'd like to say I have some great insight into why I'm like this--or at least an idea of how to cure it.  But I don't because I just spent the last 7 minutes trying to remember this great idea I had for this paragraph of the blog.  I'm being serious--I just spent 7 minutes staring at the screen, wracking my brain for this clever idea I had not 10 minutes ago and it's gone.  So frustrating!  I've read about systems that are supposed to help me overcome this problem and they probably work--except I can't remember where I read that or what they are.  This is hopeless...

"I think goldfish crackers might be the staff of life..."

The cooking situation has gotten bad around here.  Like, I hadn't cooked an "actual" meal in a week.  And the week before that was not much better.  And the week before that.  It's not that we eat out every night but with kids coming and going, picky eaters, my laziness, etc the nights I cook a real meal are few and far between.

Now some of you know that I work for Weight Watchers--it's like teaching Relief Society for weight loss--and every week I challenge my members to try one little change for the upcoming week.  I decided it was time for my "one little change" to be cooking for the whole week.  (Except not the weekend because that doesn't count.)  Some of you may recall that at the beginning of the summer I had ambitious plans to get my children to cook as well.  Those plans were ambitious all right because this has not happened so much. Like not at all.  Mostly because I'm not cooking.  (See the pattern?)  I figured I've got to conquer my own deficiencies before I can hard target the kids.

I mentioned in a previous post how much I dislike all aspects of cooking.  But after this week I've narrowed it down a bit.  In the past I've always really hated the planning of the menu.  This is because my kids are so dang picky!  (If you recall, some of them don't eat fruit.)  It would make me crazy to spend all this time looking for recipes that would suit the picky eaters,  spend forever making the meal, have a kid take two bites and then tell me they weren't hungry only to find them consuming a half box of goldfish crackers an hour later.  (We seriously go through a LOAD of goldfish over here.  I think they might be the staff of life for the Morgans.  That and Nesquick.  If all we had was goldfish crackers, milk and Nesquick my kids could survive quite happily for months.) But I digress...What was I talking about?  Right--cooking.   Dave has been trying for years to get me to just cook what I want and disregard if anyone else wants it--because chances are they aren't going to eat it anyway.

So that's what I did last week!  And you know what?  It was liberating!  I decided to cook what I wanted, how I wanted and not worry about who else ate it.  And for once, I enjoyed cooking.  Or at least I enjoyed the sense of accomplishment that came from planning a whole week's worth of meals and cooking them.  Some of the kids ate all of them, some of them ate some of them and some didn't eat at all due to scheduling but that's ok.  So, here's to another week of cooking real meals!  Who knows, maybe the kids will actually eat all of them.  But if not, there's always goldfish crackers.

"Wipe Out Winco Style" and other morning adventures.

It's been a pretty crazy week at our house as Wednesday we sent Carter off on his mission.  It's a strange feeling leading up to sending a missionary off--or a college student I suppose.  You feel like the clock is ticking down and you should be making the most of your time left but you can't quite figure out what you should be doing.  So in lieu of something grand we did what we usually do when we can't think of anything--Target and Red Robin.

Carter had to be at the airport by 4:30 am so after a tearful goodbye--I'm gonna miss that kid--we headed home.  I was too keyed up to go back to bed so I decided to do my grocery shopping for the week and I have to say, grocery shopping at 5:30 am is about a million times better than grocery shopping at 5:30 pm.  There aren't any lines (but you have to dodge all of the boxes piled up in the aisles--kind of like "Wipe Out Winco Style"). So while I was jumping over cases of mac and cheese I had an epiphany of sorts.  You see, I've always been pretty much a night owl.  I've never liked getting up early and I found that I was way more productive after 8:00 pm than I ever was before 8:00 am.  Until about a year ago when I discovered I still don't like getting up early and yet by the time 8:00 pm rolls around I pretty much don't want to do anything--except sit on the couch and watch  "Ghost Hunters."  (I don't care what any of you think--it's all real!) Yet as I was cruising through Winco I thought that perhaps now I would become a lark!  I felt so good having my shopping for the week done by 6:00 am that I went home, put all the groceries away, unloaded the dishes, cleaned the kitchen and started the laundry!  I was so productive!  And then 7:00 am came at which point I crawled back in bed and didn't emerge until 10:00 am sluggish as ever.

I think I would be much more productive if I got up early.  The day has a way of getting away from me and before I know it it's dinner time, I still haven't decided on anything to cook, my errands are halfway done and I'm wondering where all my time has gone.  It's not that I haven't attempted to change my ways before.  I've tried turning on my bedroom lights first thing in the morning and breathing grapefruit essential oils which are supposed to make me more awake but instead now I have a Pavlov's dog reaction to the smell of grapefruit and I just want to hit a snooze button and roll over whenever someone cracks open a grapefruit.  But I really think that I could be more productive and help my children be more productive if I can switch this internal clock somehow.  If anyone has any great solutions I'm all ears.  As long as they don't include grapefruit.  Just the thought of it is making me tiredzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz......

Criminal Minds--Morgan style

I hate moles.  Almost as much as I hate hot dogs which is saying quite a lot.  Without fail every spring/summer some nefarious mole decides that the Morgan lawn offers up some tasty treats and he reeks havoc on our lawn.  It pretty much makes me crazy.   We did a bunch of research on it and tried various things like mole "repellant", flushing them out, chewing gum down the holes, etc.  Epic fails.  So about 4 years ago I got fed up with this annual infestation and called up the mole dude to come and eliminate the problem.  (Those of you who don't condone animal/rodent violence may want to stop reading at this point--because by "eliminate" I mean kill those little suckers.)  So Mole Man shows up, sets his traps and a few days later, voila--dead mole!  The only problem with this is that it's like $200 for the guy to do it so I talked him into teaching me how to catch them and now I'm pretty much a pro.

Now, at this point you are asking, why in the heck is she writing about moles?  Good question!  Because it's been a good example this year in how I am turning things over to the kids and teaching them responsibility!  The thing is--setting the traps is a little bit tricky--you have to have some muscles (which I do but they're lady muscles that are good for like lifting cute weights and rearranging furniture.) You also have to have a little patience in finding a good spot and getting the trap positioned the best way.  But I figured that it might be a good learning experience for my kids.  Plus, I don't do dead rodents.  Disgusting.  So I figured that if I offered a mole bounty this could be a win-win situation:  my kids earn some money and learn a valuable skill and I don't have to mess with a mole carcass.  (Seriously disgusting.)

And so about two weeks ago one of the boys and I went out to set the traps.  We figured out the best place (we thought) to put them and my manly son (he prefers to remain anonymous because mom blogs are sort of embarrassing I guess) dug the holes and set the traps.  At this point I think he thought this was going to be a pretty easy $20.  He was wrong.  Because moles are smarter than they look--and if you've ever seen one you know they look pretty stupid.  And ugly.  So the next day, the kid goes out there and sees the trap is sprung--excellent!  Except, no mole.  At this point, he pretty much decides to give up but I figure this is a great lesson in resilience and seeing something through to the end right?  So I instruct him to move the traps and he sets them again.  Now, here is where the mystery begins.  I know--you're dying from anticipation...

At this point, my son heads out to camp for a week.  (Dang it--now I've narrowed down the suspect list for you!)  So a few days later I go out to check the traps and one is missing.  Like there's a big ol' hole in the ground and no trap.  So I'm thinking maybe it went off again and my camper noticed it before he left and maybe pulled it out or something.  Except I can't find it anywhere.  And I looked a mediocre amount.  Which is a lot for me.  So it started making me crazy.  Where is the stinking trap?  Because they aren't super cheap and I still want that mole caught.  Anyway, we wait the whole week, my son comes home and tells me he didn't do anything to the trap.  At this point I'm thinking somebody-like some mole lover-- stole it.  And here is where the detective work came in--and thanks to watching Criminal Minds way too much McKay cracked the case.

Kennedy comes in and tells me that there is a mole trap in the back yard--yet the trap was set in the front yard.  We go out and check and sure enough--there's the trap--with a decomposing mole in it.  SICK!  Using his great sleuthing abilities McKay deduces that the trap went off, killed the mole, an animal happened upon it, dug it up and drug it to the back yard!  Case solved and mole caught!

So what did I learn from this about my children?  First, my kids are capable of doing hard things.  Second, this was a great lesson for my son in seeing a job through to the end and it was a great lesson for me in letting him do that.  My natural tendency would have been to reset the traps myself after the first misfire but I let/made him do it.  And finally (and more terrifying) , I learned that apparently I have larger animal problems in my yard than moles...

Are we handing out dollar bills like candy now?

I fear that I may have gotten sidetracked in my journey to get a clean house.  I blame pinterest of course.  As you may recall I  think it's inspired by the devil and I fell into his trap this last week.  Dave was away at scout camp and so I embarked on the quest to make over my bedroom with a number of pinterest inspired ideas.  I'm actually pretty pleased with the results--which is shocking for those of you who know my creative capabilities.  It only took me 6 tries to pick out a wall color--"White Asparagus."  The kids are convinced it's just a fancy way of saying "white" but we all know better...

Anyway, what this all means is that while I was busy picking out paint, scouring Goodwill for bargain furniture and creating roman shades from ugly green mini blinds (seriously--pinterest has ideas for EVERYTHING) my house looks like a bomb went off.  (Except my bedroom--my bedroom looks SPECATCULAR!) I was lamenting the state of affairs to the fam when Dave made the comment, "so we're pretty much just handing out dollar bills like candy now right?"  One of the boys argued that the metaphor (or is it a simile?) makes no sense because there aren't any people just giving out candy.  Unless it's Halloween.  Which it isn't most of the time.  But Dave was on to something--it's still way too easy for these kids to get their dollar bills.  But not anymore!  Not only do they have to have their rooms clean by 10:00 am but they have to have anything else of theirs picked up as well.  We'll see how it goes.  (Personally I predict a couple of kid funded trips to Baja Fresh this week.)

Remember how I posted a while back that I was going to have the kids start cooking dinner three nights a week?  I'll let you in on a little secret:  that hasn't happened.  At. All.  I don't even cook three nights a week.  There, I said it.  I am a TERRIBLE mother--most nights our dinners consist of quesadillas, ramen, cereal, or a variation thereof.  So how the heck am I going to get my kids to cook when I don't even do it?  Seriously, how?  So that's my new goal--to actually cook dinner.  It's not that I've always been this way--for years I cooked dinner every night (every night but Friday because that's our sacred date night and date night MUST involve me getting to eat out.)  It's just that as the kid's schedules have gotten crazier I've become more of the short order cook--plus they are all so dang picky.  Some of them won't eat fruit.  Fruit. I am not making that up.  So I figure that if I put this out in the blogosphere (is that a hip word or what?) maybe I'll actually see it through.  Maybe.  Don't hold your breath.

The Piano Blues

As I'm sitting here typing this I'm listening to my son, McKay (who is 16) play a beautiful piece on the piano--a medley of "Joseph Smith's First Prayer" and "Praise to the Man."  I am not gonna lie--it makes me proud.  Proud and glad that we made our kids take piano lessons for all those years.

Piano lessons are interesting.  I find that it follows a cycle much like this:

Phase 1, aka, "The Honeymoon Stage":  this begins around the age of 8 when the child is jumping up and down for joy at the prospect of taking lessons.  He eagerly does his theory first thing and asks when he can practice the piano and then proceeds to play the week's worth of songs in one day.  Mom and Dad look on, dreaming of their future concert pianist and patting themselves on the back for providing this opportunity.  

Phase 2, aka, "Two Weeks Later":  Reality sets in.  Practice is hard.  And it takes away from valuable nintendo playing time.  At this point Mom and Dad (but let's face it, it's really Mom) must devise ways to keep the pianist engaged.  Sticker charts, pennies lined up on the piano, candy treats, cold hard cash--we will stop at nothing because, dang it, we don't want our off spring growing up and saying that they wished their mom had made them practice the piano--seriously there are more than one of you reading this that said that to your mom, correct?

Phase 3, "The Torture Years":  Yep--it's torture.  For both the child and yourself.  And it will last--for a loooooooooooong time.  You will listen to endless scales--played at lightening speed so that they can get through them quickly and you will go crazy in the process.  Your child will spend hours sitting/laying on the bench whining that they don't knoooooooooooooow what note that it is and it's tooooooooooooooo hard.  There will be tears.  Lots of them.  And a few from your child as well.  There will be the endless battle to find their piano books: "I put them right here and SOMEBODY took them"  (only to have Mom find them exactly where they should be).  There will be frantic car rides to lessons when your pianist discovers he forgot to do his theory--again--and you are trying to help him transpose a song while navigating traffic which quite frankly probably ranks right up there with driving and texting as far as safety goes.  On good weeks your child will practice every day.  And then you find out that there are never good weeks and instead you're batting .500.  If you're lucky.  You will be forced to attend hour long recitals when all you really want to hear is the 2 minutes your kid plays.  And it sounds exactly like it does at home, so why are you here?  The child will curse your name, proclaim the fact that they have to practice "unfair" and they will tell you that they will NEVER make their kids take piano lessons.  And you will pay hundreds--no thousands of dollars--for all that.  

But finally...

Phase 4, "The Reward":  one day you will be rewarded for all that grief with your child playing a beautiful piano medley not because you made them, but because they want to.  Your house will be filled with lovely music and you realize it's been a long time since you were going mad listening to the 654th rendition of "Chop Sticks."  And it's worth it.  It really is.  

Harmony=Tacos?

Progress Report #2:

At this point I'd like to tell you that I am seeing notable progress in the cleaning department here at the Morgans.  Except I can't.  Because we aren't.

One of the great things here at the Morgan house is that we generally are a pretty happy bunch.  We've been blessed with harmony in our home and I wouldn't trade that for the world.  We have a good time together, the kids like to hang out with each other and I can honestly say that yelling is few and far between here.  Those are all great things.

What I'm struggling to figure out is how to keep the harmony and get a clean house in the process.  Because my house pretty much looks exactly the same since I started this little blog--except now we have jars with money.  So...clearly I need to reevaluate.  I know that most of this rests on my shoulders.  I need to be better about holding them accountable--but dang it, how am supposed to know whose apple core that is sitting on the ledge between the family room and kitchen?  (Seriously, why is there an apple core perched there?  Is is THAT hard to throw it in the trash?)  Now,  I've seen those moms that spend a good portion of the day yelling at their kids to "clean up and get their chores done or else!"  And honestly--I'll take a messy house over turning into that.  I honestly believe that yelling at our kids is never the answer.  Sometimes I listen to how parents treat their children (or their spouse for that matter) and I think, "how would you feel if someone was talking to you like that right now?" But I'll tell you something--those kids grow up and if you're a yeller, guess what they turn into?  Yep.  Yellers.  And they yell at you.  Now let me be the first to admit that I have had some pretty non-stellar mom moments when I wish I could take back what I said and I hate that feeling.  Yelling just doesn't seem to be the answer.  And now I'll get off my soapbox...

So...due to my lack of progress in regards to getting my kids to not be slobs I've set some goals for the week:

1.  First, I think it's time for me to look at each room with a critical eye and get rid of what we don't need and organize what we do need.  (Those top hats are on the chopping block.)
2.  I've got to go back to holding the kids more accountable by (calmly) asking them to please clean up their messes.  I've also got to let them know when they are losing money out of their jars when their jobs aren't done.  Right now, because I hate conflict, I sneak their dollars out of their jars when nobody is looking and then run to Baja Fresh with my booty.  I'll still head out to Baja but they'll know their laziness is funding my tacos.
3.  I'll make sure to thank them when their jobs ARE done.  How often do I forget to do that?  I mean, I love it when they thank me for making dinner so I can return the favor.

Now, lest you think this great experiment I've started is a complete failure, it is not--but more on that next time.  I know.  The suspense is killing you...

"All I want is a domesticated raccoon, two river otters and a non-nocturnal owl."

For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of meeting my children, I'll let you in on a little secret:  they're sort of hilarious.  Seriously--they are way wittier than me which is the Dave Morgan gene in action.  Last night we were discussing the "no pet" policy we have here at the Morgan house.  Lest you think I am a hater of animals, let me explain...

We have a no pet policy at the Morgan house.

The kids, of course, try to get me to change my mind.  It will never work.  But last night it escalated.  First off, they all told me that they were going to have pets of there own some day.  Fine by me.  They can grow up to have 20 cats each for all I care as long as they pay for their own therapy.  Then they informed me that I was going to babysit them.  Not. A. Chance.  Most of them seem content to aspire to own a dog but not Davis.  Nope.  He wants "a domesticated raccoon, two river otters and a non nocturnal owl."  Who wouldn't right?  When I explained to him that raccoons can be pretty mean he assured me that he would tame it--and in the meantime he'd keep it in his closet until it was ready to join the family.  As for the river otters--he has an elaborate river system in mind for his future backyard and he explained that he needs two of them because apparently river otters hold hands when they sleep.  And he thinks that's cute.  The non-nocturnal owl?  I have no idea.

See?  My kids are weird--in a hilarious sort of way.

This weirdness explains why my house is a mess.  For instance, one of them (who shall remain nameless) showers every morning and then pulls all the towels off the hooks to make a nest of sorts on the ground and takes a nap in the steamy bathroom which lasts until I come pounding on the door with the news that the bus is going to be here in 4 minutes.  No wonder we could feed a small nation for what we pay in hot water.

Another one received a plunger as a gag gift years ago and it makes me crazy because it follows me around the house.  Seriously--I'll turn around and it will be sitting there mocking me, stupid plunger.  One time I even found it in my bed.  I was actually excited because the thing disappeared for about a year but guess what?  It's back.  And now it's joined by two top hats.  I kid you not. What the heck?

Do other families have these problems?  And if so, what is the solution?  And if there is one, do I really want to implement it?  Because my house may be a mess but we're always laughing over here and that's saying something.  But in the meantime I better check my closets for a raccoon in training...

"Keep your wind out of my sails!"

I read a book a while ago that I may or may not have mentioned in a previous post.  (It is well established that I am lazy so even though I could take time to go back and check, I'm not going to.  After all, I've probably either scared everyone off or bored them to death so there are probably only about 5 people left who read this this thing anyway.  True friendship...)  What was I talking about?  Right--the book.  Anyway, it's a book by Dr. Michael Lehman titled, "How to Have a New Teenager By Friday" and I ADORE it!  Seriously--everyone with teenagers should read it.  In it he discusses the special "challenges" that teenagers come with and one of the comments he makes is that we can't "let our teenagers wind get in our sails."

Some weeks it's pretty windy around here.

Now, I would say that a majority of the time I really like having older kids.  We have some great discussions, I love seeing them mature and come into their own and they are way smarter than I was at their age.  But there are times that I want to look at them and ask, "what planet do you hail from?"

Most of the time it begins by me asking what I think is an innocent question.  That's what I get for thinking I guess.  Because it's met with incoherent mumbling, or eye rolling or the (somewhat) polite response to "get off my back."  So as I resorted to vacuum therapy today--what is it about vacuuming that seems to restore my sanity?--I repeated over and over, "Don't let their wind get in my sails.  Don't let their wind get in my sails."

Dr. Lehman explains that it's hard enough for teenagers what with all their raging hormones and what not that they don't need us parents getting all put out with their attitudes.  But man--sometimes I'm put out.

This approach of course goes against my natural helicopter mom inclinations.  I don't like it when all isn't well on the home front.  What I want to do is hash it out and get them to see that for heaven's sake their mother is right!  About everything!  Except I'm not, dang it.

And so, as we continue on this journey to helping our kids become more resilient and responsible I have to sometimes turn a blind eye to the mumbling and eye rolling.  I remind myself that most of these "windy" days are really inconsequential in the eternal scheme of things and most of the time, parenting teenagers is pretty rewarding.  Most of the time.

"It's cheaper than a therapist."

In our quest to teach our children resilience and self reliance I find it's a constant balancing act.  I've mentioned before that I hadn't realized how much "hovering" I did as a parent.  Let me tell you folks, I hovered.  So now, I feel in some ways that I'm in parenting 101.  In fact I mentioned to someone the other day that I felt like I knew what I was doing for the first 20 years and all of a sudden I'm not so sure...I mean heaven help you if you are the unlucky friend who runs into me in the Target baking aisle after a long day of me questioning my parenting approach.  (Apologies Michelle but you are considerably cheaper than a therapist.)

Now, don't get me wrong.  Even with some of the "stuff" we have going on at the Morgan household I still feel like we did pretty well. I mean, I was 20 years old when Jordan was born!  20 people!  I was a baby--a baby I tell you!  But there's always room for improvement.  I mean, you're talking to the mom who apparently didn't read the whole section on newborns in her parenting guidebook where it says that it might be a bad idea to put your baby to sleep on the same side every time.  Poor Jordan--it took two years for that kid's melon head to even out.  (But he did do a pretty decent impression of a pirate with his "aye matey" squinty look.)

Now I realize that hindsight is 20/20 so I'm not beating myself up too much but I do want to be better.  So I find myself questioning my approach to lots of things at the moment.  Do I remind my children to do their chores each day?  If so, how many times do I remind them?  At what point does "reminding" cross over into "helicopter mom nagging" territory?  Do I pick up their mess or leave it there for 8 hours until they come home from work?  If I leave it there, how do I keep from going crazy looking at it?

If there was anyone left out there that thought I have my act together this should make it pretty clear that I don't.  And you know what?  I'm kind of ok with that because that means there is room for improvement.  I think that too often we're afraid to "let it all hang out there" because we feel like  everyone else is better at "this" (whatever "this" is) than we are. But I tell you what.  These last few months have shown me that we ALL have things that we struggle with.  None of us are perfect--it's just enough to keep trying.  And besides which if I'm going too crazy Target's right down the street and law of averages suggests  SOMEONE I know is bound to be there.  Hey Michelle--you have any baking to do???

Hey Mom--what's for dinner?

For some reason I had this crazy notion that once summer came this new plan of teaching my kids responsibility/independence/resilience would be easier.  Not so much.  I'm struggling to figure out when to do the room checks when kids are still lounging about until 11 am.  I know, I know!  I'm one of those moms who lets their kids sleep in during the summer.  I'm sure some of you are shaking your heads and saying, "no wonder her kids don't pick up their socks...."  Heres the thing though--I ADORE sleeping in!  There was nothing that I loved more when I was a teenager than having the luxury of sleeping until my body told me to wake up.  I still love sleeping in though that tends to hardly every happen.  I also think that my kids deserve a bit of a break.  After all, during the school year all of my teenagers have to be at early morning seminary every week day at 6:10 am so I feel like being able to sleep in during the summer is a reward for that.  Call me crazy.

So...I've adjusted my expectations a bit for the jar method.  I've decided that for now, I don't care so much about the bed being made because I still want to do my room checks each morning.  BUT--the room needs to be straight and they must have their daily job done before bed the night before.  We'll see how that goes.  

I'm also getting ready to implement phase 2 of "becoming a responsible citizen/resilient child."  The dreaded cooking aspect.  I've mentioned before that I pretty much hate cooking.  I've spent a lot of time analyzing it and here is what I dislike about it:

1.  Planning the menu--because there is NOTHING all six kids like.  Except when I make scones for dinner.  And fried bread dipped in honey does not constitute a meal.

2.  Shopping for the food--I seriously have to work up the courage to go to the grocery store.  I'd rather go to the dentist than Winco.  And don't even get me started on Wal-Mart...

3.  Paying for the food--I have two issues here.  First, the money--but I don't whine too much about that because Dave is my sugar daddy.  Secondly, I'm always slightly ashamed at the amount of sugar cereal, cookies, crackers, etc that make up my cart.  I feel like the cashier is silently chastising me for the amount of junk food I'm purchasing.  I always feel like saying--" I really buy healthy food too--see my bag of apples?"

4.  Bagging the groceries--it's like Tetris gone bad.

5.  Putting them away--because this means confronting last week's leftovers in the fridge and the soggy tomatoes in the vegetable drawer.

6.  Cooking the meal--it takes an hour and is consumed in under 10 minutes.

7.  Cleaning up--speaks for itself.

So as you can see, the only part I like is eating it.  Which is why the workers at Baja Fresh and Panda Express know me by name.  

But--I do want the kids to learn how to prepare a meal from beginning to end.  That means that I want them to plan, shop for, cook and clean up the meal.  This is going to be a huge adjustment for me because I am a last minute chef.  The kids ask for dinner and I never know--or I tend to change my plan from one minute to the next.  It's like cooking ADD.  So, my plan is to assign each kid a night and let them be in charge.  I'm starting with just three nights a week because our summer is busy plus I don't want Jose at Baja to forget me just yet.  

Wish me luck!

"Pomp and Circumstance"

The crazy train has ramped up to turbo mode the last few weeks around here so I haven't posted for a while.  I know, you're all cryin' in your cheerios about that I'm sure.  Is it just me or is the end of the school year just nuts?  It's been extra busy for our family as we've had Carter graduate this last week which is really fun--and really sad too.  It's caused me to reflect on a few things so forgive me as I wax poetic here for a moment...

I've realized that even though I'm frustrated with my household's lack of organization and discipline that somewhere along the line we did a few things right.  I mean, look at this kid:

Yeah,  I know I'm his mom and all but that is one good looking kid right?  And not only that, but he's a really nice kid!  He's thoughtful, he's smart, he's got college plans, he's nice to his mother and in two short months he's off to serve a mission in Brazil.  Brazil!  That is a long way from home!  But I'm so happy for him and the young man he's become.  I also can't believe how stinking fast it went.  I mean it literally seems like only yesterday he was wearing his "lucky shirt" every single day and carrying around his pet "chain."  (Yes--I am one of those mean moms who won't allow pets because heaven knows I can barely manage the stress of keeping six kids alive, let alone an animal.  Plus they smell.  And shed.  And need a babysitter when we go out of town.  Oh the list is endless really...)  Anyway, in lieu of a pet this kid had a dog chain collar he carried around.  EVERYWHERE.  Even the bathtub which is where it probably met it's rusty demise.

It got me thinking because I promised to be brutally honest on this blog and I can't lie.  The last couple of weeks have been rough in the parenting department at times.  Oh, we have our cute jars and some days all of the kids have their beds made and their rooms straight.  But just as many days none of it is getting done--I'm just getting richer.  And meaner. 

Case in point:  our weekly jobs were not done this week--one of the kids tried to get out of it by saying they didn't know which one was their hook.  Seriously? Those flashcards didn't help at all.   Anyway,  because of that I was out mowing the lawn at 9:30 pm Saturday night because I was mad and just too beaten down to make the kid do it.  I mean--he has it agency right?  Stinkin' agency.

But then I stop and look at that picture of Carter or I watch Kennedy and Parker in their recitals, or see Davis and McKay headed out to a day long rehearsal, or watch Jordan playing the piano for the primary kids in sacrament meeting and I think, "you know what?  It could be worse.  There may be a mountain (and I tell you, it's a MOUNTAIN ) of clothes in the laundry room at the moment, and there are still weeds in my front yard, and my bathrooms are nowhere near as clean as they should be, but I have great kids.  Really great kids.

But they better watch out 'cause summer's here and I'm attaching names to those hooks. 

"I said, GOOD MORNING GIL!"

"I said, GOOD MORNING GIL!"---Bill Murray in "What About Bob."

I've had that quote running through my mind a lot in the last few weeks as I remind myself that it is baby steps.  (For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about it's time to watch that movie.  Hilarious.)  I have to keep reminding myself that it is the little things that lead to big changes--baby steps.  For example, we have started our new allowance system.  First, we started with our weekly jobs:

Basically each kid has their own hook--see how there are six together on the left?  I figured they were smart enough to know that it goes from oldest to youngest starting on the left.

I was wrong.

Each kid has asked me which one is their hook--some of them have asked me more than once.  I probably should label them or something but right now I'm too stubborn to do it.  I mean seriously--there are going to be harder questions that this one on the SAT--if they can't figure out which hook is theirs then we are in trouble.  The hook on the far right holds a number of different jobs that any kid can do for more money.  Each kid must do their weekly job first before being able to do any extra ones.

I have to say that overall, this has gone really well!  Not only are the kids finishing their weekly jobs (mostly) but they are also doing the extra ones.  Jordan did an amazing job organizing the pantry--and it took far longer than I anticipated so he negotiated a higher price but I was happy to pay it.  McKay has really taken advantage of the new system to do a number of jobs around the house--I came home today to find him cleaning out our pond.  And for those of you who have been unfortunate enough to view the pond lately---I'm sorry...But come on by now 'cause it looks fantastic!

Baby steps...

With that, we are onto the first week of the reverse allowance system.  This is what we came up with:

As I explained, each month I put 30 $1 bills into each jar.  Every morning I check to see if their beds are made, rooms straight and dirty clothes picked up.  Since we just started this I don't have much to report other than I will say, ALL the kids had clean rooms and neat beds today!  

Baby steps!

(Someone asked me where Jordan's jar is.  We started out without him having one because, let's face it, the kids is 20.  However he wanted something to be accountable to so he has one now but his works a little differently.  For every day his room is NOT clean I put a marble in it.  Each marble equals a $1 he has to pay towards gas money for the kid's car.)

My laundry room is still a mess, my tub still has a (smallish) pile of clothes on it and I can see a couple of pairs of socks, but overall I think we are making progress!

I'm going to see how the next couple of weeks go because I have big plans once summer starts.  This involves three different areas:

1.  Cooking--I could seriously do like a million posts on how much I hate cooking/shopping/meal prep/clean up.  I think involving the kids will only make it worse but I think it's a necessary skill they need to master on our quest to make them productive members of society.

2.  Volunteer Work-because we want them to sometimes work for the greater good.

3.  Apprenticeships/Job--I'm actually excited about this idea and have some things in the works so I hope to have some exciting things to report in the next couple of weeks.

Until then--I'm off to create flashcards so my kids can remember their birth order.

Have a great night!

Pinterest is of the devil

The man who invented Pinterest is a genius.  An evil genius.  Here is a place where people from all over the world can "pin" cute pictures of anything.  Like penguin pinatas.  I am not making that up--who knew there was a community of people who make penguin pinatas?  I have a serious love/hate relationship with pinterest.  On one hand, whenever I need a recipe or fun craft there is a wealth of information.  Have a craving for Red Lobster cheese biscuits?  (Also of the devil by the way.)  Pinterest has it.  Want to know how to make the perfect "smokey eye?"  Check out my niece's make up "board." On the other hand--let the coveting begin!  There's nothing that makes me feel like the world's worst homemaker/designer than scrolling thru this guilt inducing site.  After thirty minutes  I'm headed out the door with a list of craft supplies to create crepe paper pom balls--which two years later are still only halfway done and collecting dust on the shelf in my coat closet. Honest truth.  Don't get me wrong--I love it.  But I hate it.  

Take for example my most recent search.  I was looking up ideas for my laundry room and here are a few I found:

Lovely right?  I mean, who wouldn't want to spend HOURS in one of those rooms sorting/washing/drying/folding and putting away clothes?  Because let me tell you, with six kids it is hours folks.  Especially because I have to hunt down all those socks scattered around the house.  I'm sure your'e wondering, "so what's the problem?"  I'll show you the problem:

I would love to tell you that this site is an anomaly but I would be lying.  This is my laundry room.  Ironically, it's one of my favorite rooms in the house.  When it's clean.  Which is pretty much never.  The funny thing is, I'm actually pretty good about staying on top of the laundry.  I mean, there is always at least one load in the washer and/or dryer and usually one waiting to be folded so it's not like I have baskets and baskets full of clothes to take care of.  The beauty of this room is that I have a big drawer for each of the kids so I can fold directly into their drawer.  The original plan called for them to empty their drawer every day but instead they just wander down here every morning and get dressed.  (Note--if you're planning on dropping by anytime before 8:00 am you may want to call ahead to avoid half dressed teenagers...)

The real problem with this room is that it's the general dumping ground for coats, shoes, backpacks and various odds and ends in addition to the laundry.  And so tonight while looking thru pinterest I was once again discouraged because I'm pretty sure my house is never going to look like the ones I find there.  Maybe I should start a 'real life' pinterest.  With pictures of bathrooms with the toilet seats up, old pizza boxes beneath a teen's bed and a pair of underwear under the piano.  (Which may or may not be a regular occurrence at the Morgans...)  Who knows, maybe women will hail me as an unsung hero--a discouraged mother whose not afraid to show the world how we really live!  But probably not.

In the meantime, I'd love to hear how you all stay on top of your laundry rooms.  Because there has got to be a solution.  Pinterest says so.