Are You Serious?!!

It's been a while since I've posted anything. I think we've just been busy trying to find some kind of routine and normalcy out here. I think we've achieved it cause now I'm starting to find myself with some extra time and realizing how far away from home I really am. The few people I have shared these feelings with have been super supportive, and I know time will help. I've given myself lots of little pep talks, and I've been doing my very best at being at any social gathering and meeting new friends. And then...enter our first counselor in the bishopric...

We were at a ward new member social last night at the Bishop's house and things were lovely. We've had quite the influx of new families in the last few months. It was nice to be in a room with a lot of people that felt somewhat like we did. Towards the end we were approached by the first counselor and moved into a quieter area. Then the bomb was dropped...nursery workers?! What?! My first reaction was to scream and grab Curran by his shirt and say "I told you so!!!" Then the tears came. I was speechless.

I don't hate small children. I have two of my own and love them dearly. Thing is, we have a huge ward in a very small building. We have over 20 children in a nursery suitable for maybe half that number. Throw in a whole lot of toys and about 5-6 full-size adult bodies and you have a clausterphobic's worst nightmare!

We've been in the aforementioned nursery since our first week here cause we're having a tough time getting Noah to stay there--so he must be jumping for joy right about now. And now that I think about it the nursery leader must've ratted us out--figured we were gonna be stuck there anyway with a hysterical Noah, might as well make it official.

I usually last about 5 minutes before I feel like I'm gonna pull my hair out--sometimes even thinking it would be easier to just take Noah to class with me just to escape the confines of this room. These are the thoughts I have had as I have observed the workings in our massive nursery:

Dang, sure glad I don't have a nursery calling!
I don't ever want to work in the nursery!
What is that smell?!
Somebody shoot me now.
I gotta get out of here!
Please don't ever let me be called to nursery!

And now here we are. Nursery workers. I honestly am having a rough time coming to terms with this. Since the moment we were asked my head and heart have been in constant prayer. I'm gonna need serious spiritual guidance with this one. I feel a little betrayed to be honest. I feel like I do nursery at home 7 days a week with my own kids. I feel like sometimes my patience wears so thin with my own kids how in the world am I supposed to handle over 20? I know there are other nursery workers there, but since we're being honest...the guys in there walk in, find a spot to sit their behinds in and NEVER move. They're like bumps on a log! Or maybe they're human jungle gyms and do that sitting still bit for the entertainment of the little ones. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. Besides, didn't Curran and I put in our time as nursery workers when we were first married? We're done! (We must've done an awful job cause here we are again)Side note: Back then we were ecstatic with the calling being newly married without children. Now we know better.

This morning I woke up thinking: "Come on, Carol. It's only 2 hours on Sundays. That's it! How awful can it really be?" And really, 2 hours isn't really a long time. My Sundays are just sacred. Relief Society has always been such an escape for me. I looked forward to Sundays and the ability to re-energize so I could face another week of being a mom and wife. I feel like this calling will just distance me even more from the sisters I'm trying to form friendships with. It's counter-productive. It goes against all my plans...and THAT is why I got this calling! I always get hit over the head (spiritually speaking) when I try to dig in my heels and do things MY way. I know callings are inspired. I know there is a purpose I do not yet understand. I just wish I could scatter some goldfish crackers on the floor, put out some bowls with water and lock the door as I run far, far away...

The Invasion Begins!

I am no longer a Californian...how does that make me feel? It's bittersweet, really. Our little family moved to Colorado 13 days ago, and I still have to stop and look around and remind myself that this is not California. The significantly less traffic and constant tornado warnings are kind of a giveaway, but it's hard to believe that we have a new place to call home. If things go the way we hope we will be here a long, long time. Maybe by then I'll start to feel like this is really home. Right now I am having a little bit of culture shock. I can count the number of people I have heard speaking Espanol on ONE hand--una mano! We have moved into an area that is rather nice--Highlands Ranch, and I seem to be the most ghetto one here. I constantly feel like people are looking at me funny and that little, old ladies grab hold of their expensive handbags just a little tighter when they see me approaching. It could all just be in my head, but something tells me it's not--and that something is my husband. I voiced my concerns to Curran a few days ago and he said: "No, it's not just you. I noticed it too." So, alls I gotta say to all these Coloradonites or Coloradians is--watch out! The Mexicans are coming!!

Sick Time Reflections

I wanted to record what has happened the last couple of days before I forget how grateful I am for all that I have. I've had a lot of time to reflect the last few days because I was practically bed-ridden with the nastiest case of the flu I have ever had--this was worse than when I had Pneumonia, or either one of my c-sections. I don't remember feeling so much pain before--ever--well, except for when I had my eyebrows threaded--that flippin' hurts!

I was in pain for 3 full days, and most of the hours of those said days were filled with either whining to my husband or in prayer to my Heavenly Father. It was during one of those moments of prayer that I began to think about all the things I am unhappy with as far as my physical appearance goes. I'm always complaining about one thing or another--my fatness, my eyebrows, plucking hairs from places I've never had to before, my skin--you get the picture, and I began to realize how petty I can be sometimes--how I can let something as insignificant as my hair bother me so much. All I kept thinking was how I had failed in being grateful for the body I do have--a body, that when all things are considered, is in pretty good shape--a body that has the ability to move--to chase after my kids and clean up after them.

Oh how grateful I am now for what Heavenly Father has blessed me with. Being sick is such a humbling experience--especially for someone like me who finds it extremely difficult to ask for help. I did find comfort from the Lord. I knew no one could offer that like He could. I'm thankful that Curran is a worthy priesthood holder, and for the blessing he gave me when I thought I couldn't take the pain anymore. He stepped in, and took over, and I know how tough this must have been having just come home from working in San Diego, but he did it and never complained.

Monday morning I woke up and felt significantly better, but still a bit weak. Curran took the day off to make sure we were okay, and I'm glad he did cause soon after waking the kids began to complain about not feeling well and within minutes we discovered we had two new flu patients to deal with.

Herein lies the other great lesson I learned--having to nurse your children back to health has got to be one of the most heart-wrenching things. In a lot of ways I felt helpless. I was doing all I could to comfort them, but I just knew it wasn't enough. I would see them in pain and wanted nothing more than to take their illness from them and make it mine. Once again I found my time spent in constant prayer. I know the pain that Jesus Christ felt in the garden of Gethsemane was a million times worse than what my kids were feeling, but I've got to imagine that my feelings were like that of Heavenly Father at that moment when his Son was in the most agonizing pain. What parent out there wouldn't trade places with their child when their child is hurting?

This morning they woke up and Noah couldn't hold still long enough for me to take his temperature. Lola came out of her room with her giant bag of art supplies and a clean stack of paper and instantly got to work making masterpieces for me. That was all I needed to know that they were feeling much better. I reflected on the sight before me and thanked God for the mess that was slowly beginning to accumulate around me.

I know I will forget this lesson soon--which is why I wanted to blog about it now. But after the last few days we have had I will gladly take a jam-packed day of activities and errands, messes and laundry, cooking and bath time over any of the sick days we have just lived through. And along those same lines, I would take my loud, messy, crazy, tornado-like children who scream and laugh and run through the house like banshees over the sick ones any day. So next time I'm getting ready to complain about the mess or the noise I will pause and think about just how grateful I am for the life I have. Take THAT stinkin' flu!!!

A Lesson in Coughing...Seriously!

My new and most excellent friend, Jessica posted this video on FB (that's Facebook for you non-social networking savvy friends of mine). This video was sent out at her work place at the peak of the Swine Flu hysteria--which, by the way, I was sure I had until the doctor assured me it was the boring old flu. And why did I get better treatment as a "cash only" patient than when I had an HMO? Coincidence? I don't think so! But that's a matter for another day. So Jessica assured me that this email was sent out in complete seriousness--making the video that much funnier. Please watch--and do it in your sleeves, people! For crying out loud!

Being a Leader is Overrated!

Dude, boost my ego a little bit and sign up as a follower of my sweet blog. See the little box just to the right of this post? That's the one! Now sign up! Love you!

Middle of the Night Stuff

Last night my eyes popped open at 2 am, and then my mind started to think about all kinds of stuff. I spent most of the time from 2-5am thinking about all my old roommates while I was at BYU. I don't know why--but I wanted to see of I could remember them all. Here is my feeble attempt. Please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong (last names will be withheld):

Copan Cabana:

My first roommate experience, and by far my most favorite. We never owned a TV and didn't need one cause we were each other's entertainment.

Trake, Rake, Heidi, Cheryl, Katie, and my next door neighbors mom who came to stay for a summer--made for lots of fun days, let me tell you!

Corner Down:

My first basement experience--and my last. Dumpiest house I ever lived in, but fun roommates. I once made a massive hole in the living room wall...with my BUTT! From then on it was known as Carol's butt hole. We slept on the massive lawn a lot during the summer months which was wonderful --except for when the automatic sprinklers would come on in the morning.

Smash, Sarah, Jodie, Courtney, Karrine, Amy, Janine, Lindsay, Jones, Cynthia, Jessie...

McKonkie:

This was the house where you had to know someone who knows someone who knows the prophet to get in. So glad I did.

Kristen, Laura, Cindy, Ginger, Helen, Mary, Naomi...there's got to be more...Karyn!...

Mexico:

Went to Mexico for Study Abroad during this time--it was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

Jaime, Carolina, Jeff, Seth and his crazy wife and kids.

Love Shack:

Also known as the porch swing house. This was a short stint.

Trake, Tiffany, and a dog...whose name escapes me at the moment.

West-something. I moved to some apartments on 5th West. Tiny space + 6 girls = no fun. I mostly just slept here cause I attended the Spanish ward at this time, but I met the bestest roommate ever!

Lisa, Becca, Megan, and two other girls I can't remember.

Last house:

This last house I lived in before getting hitched had no cool name, but I loved the location. It was like on 1220 West--right by the river.

Genel, Moneymaker, Lauren, Chari, Joni, Gina.

These are people I may have lived with--I can't remember if I did or if I just spent so much time with them that it felt like I did:

Mary S., Kirsten, Liz.

I loved my time at the Y. Overall my roommate experieces were awesome, and I've made the greatest friends. I was also quite the cupid. These are the people I take partial credit for hooking up:

Myriam & Geoff

Doug & Karen

Laura & Andy

Adam & Angelica

Then I started to think about my favorite places to eat while at the Y:

Stans, Malt Shoppe, Cafe Rio, Gandolfo's

Then Curran's alarm went off and I was finally able to fall back asleep with visions of Sweet pork salads, and urban cowboy sandwiches dancing in my head. mmmmmm......zzzzzzzzzzz.......

Wii! It's a party!

Wii (get it?!) had a little get-together at our house last month with a bunch of young married friends of ours. I've quickly learned that in the church there is the YSA, and when you get married you then get grouped in with the "young marrieds." This isn't a bad place to be. Once you have your first kid you're still a young married, but on the brink of being ousted--mostly cause young marrieds without kids think all married people with kids do is talk about their kids--which is true. Once you give birth to a second child you are OUT! You're not quite so cool anymore, and who really cares that much? Cause at this point, your idea of a fun night is being in bed by 9 pm.

Anyway, Curran and I decided to invite some "young marrieds" to our house for food and a Wii tournament. Maybe it was in an attempt to regain our "cool" status after having 2 kids, or maybe cause we wanted to show off our mad skills on the Wii. Whatever the reason, we had a blast!

This is Raul. His wife whooped him in boxing, and although he went home empty-handed he took home all my love for bringing the yummiest cheesecake dessert ever!

Jacob and Noah--two kids who are half Mexican, but couldn't look any more like gringos

Jessica and Andy--two of my favorite people. I had not seen Andy since 1997, so I had an absolute blast getting caught up and meeting his wife. They have since purchased their own Wii and have been training for a re-match.

Raul and Virginia--taking out their marital frustrations in the Wii boxing ring. Very therapeutic.

This is Jessica and Karla--two awesome girls I met not too long ago. This pic is of the the final two left standing in our boxing portion of the tournament. Jessica was our boxing champ and won a sweet puzzle of a monkey in a tutu.

This is Daniel--an accountant who moonlights as quite the gifted photographer. We learned this night that he is also quite the twinkle toes. He won our DDR battle and took home a do-it-yourself bedazzled water bottle.

This is Jesse. His wife, Karla is pictured above. His mad Spanish skills have nothing on his hula hooping! I thought all white guys were incapable of moving their hips. I now stand corrected.

Stacia and Layne showed up later in the evening and not even being "with child" stopped her from showing us her moves.