My Bubba Boy

This cute, teenage boy is my buddy. We discovered a new TV show, Intelligence that we both like. So, I record it on Monday nights and he and I watch it together after school on Tuesday before his brothers get home from school. It's fun to have one-on-one time with him. Yesterday, we were watching it after school and I told him I would give him some of my Milk Duds if he got them out of the pantry for me, so he did. Awhile later, I mentioned that I should get up and make myself a quesadilla at next commercial break since I hadn't eaten lunch. He said, "I'll make you one." What? My child who is too lazy to even make himself a sandwich for his school lunches most days just offered to make me lunch? I said, "Are you sure? You don't have to make me one. I can do it." Bubba, "No, it's okay. I was gonna ask you to give me another Milk Dud, but I decided just to do it because I love you." I love these moments!! I lock them away in my memory and my heart for those other days when he has teenage angst. I love that my boys still snuggle on the couch with me to watch TV. Or when they randomly say, "I love you, Mom." I love you too guys!

Best Day EVAH!

Sixteen years ago today, I met this cute guy.

I was bored that night and had two guy friends (one from my apartment complex) that stopped by and asked if I wanted to go to the church institute dance with them at ASU. I'd been a few times. They weren't anything super exciting, but it was something to do. As soon as we walked in, they told me they were going to go "mingle", which apparently meant, "You're not invited to follow or we won't meet any chicks." So, there I stood, pissed off and alone. There was a cute eighteen year old kid getting ready to leave on his mission that struck up a conversation with me. But here I am, at twenty one thinking, "Yeah, this isn't gonna go anywhere." After a bit, this kid Don walks in. Hallelujah! Someone I know. I met him at a party a few weeks earlier so I called out his name and he came over. Of course he didn't remember my name, but whatever. There was this hot guy with him when he walked in-who promptly walked elsewhere before even heading my way with Don. I was thinking, "Wait! I called Don over here partly because I wanted to meet you, hot mystery guy." Don and I talked for awhile and a bit later, mystery guy walks over, plops himself directly in front of me, put out his hand, and introduced himself. I might have heard bells or angels singing. I can't quite remember. But I was gone. Yes people, I believe in love at first sight because it happened to me. He later told me that he thought I was this cute punker chick. I was ranting about how much guys sucked because my friends had ditched me. And I was also sick of guys not committing. The song "Faithfully" by Journey began to play and I mentioned how much I loved the song. My prince told me later he was going to ask me to dance, but Don asked first. After the dance was over, a bunch of the kids I had previously met at aforementioned party were getting together at this girl, Cami's house. They invited me, so of course I said yes. My "friends" actually seemed annoyed that I wasn't going home with them when I found them to tell them. I was like, "Really? You're kidding right? I haven't seen you once tonight." So we get to Cami's and we're waiting for everyone to show up. I'm standing in the back of this guy, Russ' truck when we're finally ready to go in. B offered me a piggy back. We decided to watch "Dumb and Dumber" and B sat on the couch. I was going to sit next to him, but Cami plops down next to him and blocks off the rest of the couch. Threatened much? So, I opted for leaning on his legs on the floor instead. I untied his shoes-an obvious sign that I liked him. I kept finding conversation hearts in a dish on the table with notes. Doofus didn't even read them. He didn't get the clue. The way Cami was dominating his attention, I assumed they were together. That wasn't going to stop me from flirting though. This guy Mark offered to massage my shoulders during the movie-I must've been complaining. B told me later that he was so jealous. Ha! Later, when Don was going to take B home, I got a ride too. By the time we got to my apartment, this guy still hadn't asked for my number. So as I'm leaving the backseat I give him my pager number. Yes, I did say pager. He called the next evening and asked if I wanted to hang out that night. Unfortunately, I already had a date to a hockey game with a guy that I didn't like, but didn't want to be a jerk and cancel. Instead, we talked on the phone for three hours on Superbowl Sunday the next night. We set a date for Tuesday afternoon to hang out at the giant new-ish mall. We talked for like another two hours and even though it was time for him to go to his night class, he asked if I wanted to see "Titanic" instead. He didn't kiss me that night, which I actually thought was awesome. But he left the next day to go to Idaho and Utah for a buddy's wedding and to visit his dad. He was going to be gone for ten days. I have read him my journal from during that time. It already felt like we were dating, and I literally wrote that I thought he was really "the one". He came home a day early-just so he could see me. He called as soon as he drove in and we went out with the same friends that night for a bonfire. We got told to leave at the first place because it was on an Indian Res. We moved to the lake, but he and I never ended up getting out of his truck. We sat there for three hours talking again. It was amazing. Finally though, I had to take matters into my own hands and kiss him. I think even he was a goner after that. Four months to the day later, we were married in the Bountiful Utah temple. God definitely made sure we were both in the right place at the right time. And they lived happily ever after...

Loud and Proud

Do you ever feel like this? I seem to have more days than not when I just want to "Hulk Smash" something. Why is it that we get our parents worst traits, and then pass on our worst traits to our own kids. That's so unfair. Life is unfair enough, I don't want my kids to turn out like me. I'm stubborn, hot tempered (thank you Italian grandma), loud (again Grandma's fault), no patience, then throw bipolar in the mix. Unfortunately, I act or talk before thinking things over when I'm annoyed or mad. I don't really give a crap if I offend people most of the time. If someone is offended, it's because they choose to be. I'm not purposely being mean to anyone. Bubba was pushed down and called the "n" word by a junior in high school at a baseball camp this fall. All because he was pitching well in whiffle ball. If I would've been there, I'm not sure what I would've done. Probably stormed over there, got in the kid's face and threaten to call the police. It would be hard not to just full on punch the kid in the face. Pick on someone your own size, bully. Sheesh.

I have two very stubborn children who also have no inside voice and hot tempered. Somehow there's a totally chill kid in our family. And then there's the Saint. Not sure where they came from. Actually, mellow boy is just like his Papa Bailey. Thank Heavens for that. And the Saint, well he just makes me want to be a better person. He's my hero. He may just be translated like Moses someday. And just to add insult to injury, with four kids, at least one of them is likely to be bipolar. At least I should be able to see the signs. I wish I would've known when I was younger. Maybe then I wouldn't have felt like I was losing my mind. Some days, I still feel like I am. Meds only do so much to make a person feel somewhat "normal".

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my boys. They also have awesome traits-incredibly loving and affectionate, kind to others (except for each other), funny, and well, just full on amazing. I know that God sent me these boys for a reason. I was meant to be a mother of all boys. I was a tomboy growing up. I hated dresses or curling my hair. Most of my friends in high school were boys. I had one best girlfriend, but everyone else I hung out with were boys. And I was a guy's girl. Burping loud, not afraid to pig out, loved shooting, grew up going to Angels' games. And now, I still love shooting, can shock my kids with my belches, love UFC (the more blood, the better), and I live for baseball season. I used to want a girl. Four times I did. But I came to realize after boy four was born, I didn't really want one. What would I do with a princess? I don't want to share the throne around here. I guess that makes me selfish, but my boys are learning from Dad how to treat a woman. He really is the greatest man I've ever known. And maybe, if I'm lucky, my boys will all grow up to be just like him.

Snow Much Fun

See how I did that with the title? We had snow much fun sledding today with Grandma. Since it only snows enough to sled like once year, we hit the hill today and had a blast. And I didn't break my tailbone this year, so that was a plus.

 Peanut got his first face full of snow with Grandma.

 Daddio and Bubba.

 Mama and JP. He was not a happy camper after that much cold snow in his face.

 Cute Coco after sledding down backwards.

 Grandma and Coco after he lost his beanie.

 Bubba's first face full of snow on this ride. He got hit like two more times.

Cute JP boy.

Fabulous Five Year Old

 Look what cute five year old lost his third tooth. He's the only one in Kindergarten to have lost that many teeth. It helps that brothers knocked a few loose this year.

My new favorite face he makes. He likes to make this face when we're trying to read scriptures before bed. He's really good at making everyone laugh. Random fun fact he told me today in the car: Polar bears can smell seals through five feet of ice. Never a dull moment with this kiddo around.

Baby, It's Frickin' Cold Outside

Man alive, it's cold out. That's my biggest complaint about living here. I seriously love everything else (okay, maybe not the slow drivers), but we have nice, hot summers, school is across the street from our neighborhood, we have great neighbors, we don't live right in town, it's safe enough for my kids to play outside and roam around the neighborhood. What more could a girl want? No snow! I hate snow. I hate everything about snow. I grew up in Southern California where it was 81 degrees one Christmas Day when I was sixteen. Those weenies down there are complaining right now because it's 55. I used to be one of those weenies. Now, when it's 55 out here, we bust out the short sleeves. It's currently 13 out and it's almost 3 pm. Gag! I have to drive my kids to school. It literally takes five minutes to walk from our house, and I have to stinkin' drive them because your face is frozen before you even make it to the sidewalk. It's not even Christmas and I'm ready for winter to be over. Give me 100 degrees any day of the week and I'm a happy girl.

Our house finally looks like Christmas is coming. We got our delicious smelling tree on Saturday and JP appointed himself Mayor of the Christmas village and set it all up-including who's in charge of each building. We set up our beautiful, new Nativity set that we just inherited from B's bonus-mom. I've always wanted one like it. I've learned to play a few songs on the piano. (Yes, I'm in my thirties and taking piano lessons). I'm done shopping and everything gets wrapped as soon as it comes in the door. I go straight to my closet, lock the door, wrap, and then hide them in boxes or bags (yes, even though they're wrapped). I don't let them put them under the tree until Christmas Eve. Those little buggers are at the age now where they want to shake things and guess what it is. Sometimes, it's hard to disguise the shape too. I caved and let them each bring one down Sat. night. I've even resorted to wrapping small things in big boxes and stuffing the boxes with extra tissue paper, magazine paper, or other stuffing so even if they shake it, they won't hear something rolling around. Made cookies last night and the kids will frost after school. Gonna decorate the gingerbread house tonight and possibly attempt to make some sort of candy to give to the neighbors with our cookies.

My sister is coming down for the holiday and to celebrate my fluffy bunny nephew's first birthday. We were also excited to find out that they will be moving back next month from seven hours away. The boys couldn't be more tickled to see their cousin all the time. And I'm sure my sister won't mind having a babysitter close so she and her husband can finally go on a date again. Plus, Meme is coming after Christmas for the New Year and Grandma Susan is coming after that. Woot! All in all, it's gonna be a great holiday season at our house. (Well, except for the sucky snow and icy roads).

If You're Crazy and You Know it, Shake Your Meds

I saw that on a T-shirt online, and it cracked me up. It made me laugh because that's how I think of myself at times. The people who know me well, know that I suffer from bi-polar disorder. But many of you don't know that about me. I'm very open about it, and decided I want to share my story.

My parents were divorced when I was barely older than my youngest is now, so I primarily grew up with my mom. She was re-married maybe a year later or so. The only happy childhood memories I have are from the time my mom and I lived with my grandparents while she was single and when they babysat me during the summers while she worked. That may sound harsh, but it's my reality. But that's a story for another post.
As a teenager, I had issues. I know all teenagers have issues, but I had some major stuff going on that kept me in a dark place mentally. I always wondered what was wrong with me. I know my junior high and high school friends can attest to the fact that I was extremely moody.

I had dark days, but then there were times when I felt like a total spaz. I was hyper, chatty, excited, productive... you get the idea. It's no wonder none of my boyfriends ever stuck around in high school, or college for that matter. That is, until I met my husband. I have no idea why or how he stuck with me, but lucky for me, he did. He never once called me crazy or asked what was wrong with me. He just loved me for the way I was. After I had our first baby, I got a little post-partum depression. After our second baby, I had it again. My doctor put me on Prozac. I thought it would help, but it didn't really seem to do anything. After the third baby, she put me on it again. After my last pregnancy, I took it again for awhile, but I didn't really see the point. Nothing seemed to help me.

Finally, a friend from church was talking with me one day about her depression issues. She told me she found a doctor who finally diagnosed her as bi-polar. I decided to go see him. It couldn't hurt, right? At my first visit, he asked me a million questions, starting with my youth up to the present. When he was done, he diagnosed me as being bi-polar and explained what that meant. A light bulb went on and I thought, "Ohhhh, that totally makes sense now." It was a great day. I finally knew what was wrong with me. I wasn't just completely crazy! That was a couple of years ago. Now, I'm on medication to stabilize my mood. Anti-depressants (like my doctor kept putting me on after having babies) don't help people who are bi-polar unless you also take a mood stabilizer. I joke about it now, "I have to refill my crazy pills," or "I have an appointment with my crazy doctor today."

I still don't know what a "normal" bad day feels like when my doctor asks me. I've never felt normal, so what does that mean? But I don't have days very often where I don't want to get out of bed or leave the house, hiding out in the dark. I still have low days sometimes, but not extremes like I used to. I do welcome the spaz days. Those are the days I get a lot done. I get into an OCD organization zone or I sit and write. Why am I telling you all of this? I'm not sure. As I've gotten older, I've decided I don't like keeping secrets. I'm done keeping hurtful secrets for other people, and so I'm open about all of it now. I want to share in case there are others like me out there, who have wondered their whole lives what is wrong with them. Don't be afraid to ask for help. And don't be afraid to suggest to a loved one that they might need help. This is something hereditary, so it's important to find out about it.