I love that we moved the boys to the front of the house.  This room is bigger, brighter, and more inviting to play in.  This is where we spend a lot of the day while Jace is in school.

When we're not eating.  Or watching TV.

It's not always just fun and games and playing well with each other.  But for the most part, it's very pleasant.  In fact, as long as I'm in the room with them, the two littles will play by themselves (or sometimes Cameron will play with Livvy, using her as the giant baby monster the bad guys go to when they're captured) and I can just sit and observe.  Sometimes I play with them.  But there is only so much deep voiced power ranger talking I can do.  So sometimes I play on the ipad.  Or read.  Or fold laundry.  Or practice my not-really-new-but-rekindled crochet skills.

And so, in case you've been wondering why I haven't had any new lots of random pictures of Liv, here you go.  Livvy with her new hat that I made her.

(and yes, I did take away the large choking hazard she was trying to stuff down her throat) 

Hopefully in writing this down I can reign in some of my craziness.  Dial it down to just carousel craziness instead of roller coaster craziness.

Today was the primary program at church.  I woke up this morning at 7:00 in a good mood, excited (for once) to actually get up and begin the wrestle that is Sunday morning.

Flash forward five hours later and I am leaving the chapel holding Livvy, obviously on the verge of tears, and dragging Jace and Cameron behind me.  Driving home through blankets of tears.  Putting children down for naps through blankets of tears.  And now sitting at this computer, red eyed and boogery.

And now I'm trying to figure out just what exactly caused the roller coaster to pick up such crazy speed, and then derail.  And here is what I have concluded:

Sundays, for me, are hard.  There is no spiritual enlightenment at all.  From the time I wake up in the morning to the time I drive away from the church, I am in a constant craze of battling with children.  Brice is always gone early Sunday morning (and also, P.S., I know a lot of women in the church have husbands who are gone Sunday morning and handle it well.  I do not.  I never will.  I hate it.  And if that makes me a wussy mormon wife, then so be it.  I don't care) so I am left to get the kids and myself ready for church alone.  

We're usually late.  I'm always frazzled.  The kids are extra rowdy Sunday mornings.  This morning outside was basically a swimming pool because it had rained alllllllll night.  We actually were ready to leave the house twenty minutes before ten but when I opened the door and saw the wading pool of a yard we would have to cross to make it to the van, all hopes of a smooth exit to church vanished.  

In order to get the boys safely (and dry) to the van I had to carry them one at a time.  Then I had to get Livvy there.  But when I got to the van I realized her car seat was still in the house.  Swearing occurred.  By the time we were all ready and buckled in my feet and bottom of my skirt were soaking wet and patience had long since vanished.  And I still had to wrestle with kids for the next three hours (one hour in sacrament and two more hours in the nursery).

But today was the primary program.  And I was excited.  I feel like the primary program is the one Sunday a year when mothers of young, difficult children--such as myself-- can sit back and feel the reward of their struggles.  A time to see your sweet child singing his heart out from the stand, looking at you with a smile, so proud of himself.  It's the one Sunday out of the year that you actually feel like it's worth it to go to church.

Jace practiced his lines.  He memorized them all.  He knew part of all the songs, and some of them he knew really well. He was singing them around the house when he got home from the practice yesterday.  I couldn't wait to see my sweet little boy smiling at me proudly from the stand.  To make me feel like a good mom, for once.  To make me feel like going to church on Sunday is not just a waste of time.

But, like most things, if you set yourself up with high expectations, you are sure to be disappointed.  Jace didn't say his lines like I knew he could.  He waited for them to be whispered to him. That's okay, though, no big deal.

But then he also did not sing a single song.  He stood there with a blank look on his face, his mouth firmly closed.  I mouthed at him from the audience, "SING".  He did not. I gave him my scary teacher eyes and mouthed it again.  Nothing.  He would not sing.

And for some reason that crushed my soul a little bit.  First there was rage.  And I wanted to march up there and shake him and yell, "SING DAMMIT SING"  Then disappointment came pouring in and I suddenly felt like I was going to burst into tears right there in front of everyone.  After the first four songs of not even attempting to sing, I just wished that it would hurry up and be over.  Because disappointment kept crashing in harder and harder.  And then the guilt came, because why did I care so much?  Why was I feeling so mad at him for not singing?  What kind of a mother wants to say to her five year old when he comes off the stand, "What the heck was that?  That sucked big time."

Is that crazy? Yes.  I know it is.  But the heart feels what it feels.  Sometimes it feels what it feels magnified because of stupid hormones.  But it doesn't make what it feels any less real.  And right  now my heart feels sad that my little boy would not sing lovely primary songs in his primary program.  And also sad at the way I let it bother me. And also sad because it has never hit me more fully that no matter how hard I try, how much instruction I give, how many scary eyed threats I issue, Jace will do what he wants to do.  And sometimes his choices are going to be disappointing.  And sometimes they're going to make my heart cry just a little bit.  And I know that this really isn't a big deal.  Probably even in just a few hours I will feel better and wonder what I was so upset about.  But someday it will be something else that disappoints me and makes my heart hurt.  And I don't know if I'm ready for that.  How do parents handle it?  I am not doing so well at this little, insignificant thing.  How will I handle real stuff?

Even though three year old are like little terrors, I think maybe I wish my kids could all stay three forever.

I tried explaining to him why I feel disappointed and sad, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't get it or even care.  Which is fine.  Because he's five.  And there will be plenty of other primary programs.  And  you better believe I will be threatening him with a beating if he does not sing, or even pretend to sing, at the next one.

I went in to tell him to lay down and rest and he said to me, "Why are your eyes so red."

"Because I've been crying."

"Well, you look like a monster, kinda."

Awesome.    

Look at those three beautiful children.  Don't they look like angels?  So sweet.  So pretty.  So well behaved.

WRONG!

This morning Brice and I were awakened at 5:00 a.m. to the sound of a child yelling for "MOOOOOMMMMMYYYYYYY!"

After I stumbled out of bed, found my glasses, and staggered to the boys' room, I was told two things.

"Mom, I peed in my bed," from one child.

And, "Mom, I threw up," from the other child.

Really?

I feel like there was probably a conversation like this two minutes prior to that point.  It went like this:

"Hey, are you awake, I think I'm gonna throw up."

"Yeah, I'm awake.  I have to pee."

"I know, how about you pee, and I'll throw up, at the same time.  And then we'll tell, Mom."

"Yeah, sounds good."

Brice sometimes gives me a hard time for taking waaaaay more pictures of her than the other two.  But I think it's probably obvious why.  She will stay in one place.  She will smile and laugh and make cute noises.  She doesn't throw sticks at me.  Or ignore me when I say "stop running away".  She doesn't pull her pants down to try to show me her butt and then laugh hhysterically like it's the funniest thing ever.  And until she starts doing those things, she will get to have more pictures.

Needless to say, after our rocky start this morning, things didn't get much better.  We showered the boys off and turned on the TV.  No sense in going back to bed.

It was one of those mornings when I kept checking the clock hoping it was time to take Jace to school.

I've read a lot of stuff on other blogs and mommy websites about the challenge to "not yell".  I just don't know how that is done.  I always think, maybe it's my evident stress and anxiety that gets the boys all worked up to yelling and jumping and flinging themselves around and hitting and poking and screaming. . . But even when I stifle back every scream and speak in hush tones with a calm and quiet manner, I am trampled by noise and yelling and insanity.

The only way to gain control of the situation is to yell loud enough to be heard above the other yelling.  Right?  Either that or ignore the situation completely and take Livvy to my room and LOCK the door.

I've tried both.  The end result is usually the same.

Oh well.  These pictures are good, at least.

I know Jace and Cameron were both annoyed with me and ready to take my camera and beat me with it.

I should have said, "Don't worry about it, boys.  It's pay back for how you will wake me up in two days."

Sometimes Jace and Cameron are angel brothers.  And play so well together.  But just sometimes.

Livvy loves Jace.

And also loves to pretend she's thinking about eating that graham cracker, when I know she really has no intention of putting it anywhere near her mouth.

And Cameron sometimes gives up on life and resorts to stripping down to his underwear and flinging himself on his bed.

It's okay Cam Spam.  We all have those days.

Halloween was stormy.  So stormy that they "canceled" trick or treating and moved it to today (Friday).  However, I feel as though the boys had enough Halloween fun and enough candy fun yesterday, on actual Halloween.  So they're not going trick or treating.  Instead they get to go on a father/son camp out!  And right now they're at the movies with their Aunty Lisa, and Jace didn't even have school today.  Pretty much a win all the way around.

So now for the costumes. . . 

Livvy went as Olivia.

When we told Jace that we wanted to name our new baby sister Olivia, he said, in a very disgruntled voice, "But Olivia is a PIG!"

She's a very cute pig.  My mom made her costume.  I added the nose.  But before I added the nose, I took pictures of her with a drawn nose.  Which I thought was adorable.

Brice, however, was so anti the drawn on pig nose that I finally consented to make her a different one.  Silly Brice.  

The boys were ninjas from "Ninjago" a show on Netflix that they're obsessed with.  Thank goodness for pinterest.  And the internet.  And other creative people who put all their stuff for the non creatives to copy.

I kept telling them to "pose like a ninja".  Jace's go to was to always cock his head sideways.  And Cam of course just copied him.

I made them go and take these pictures before the church party during the break between the rain.  It was a very, very yucky day outside.

  

It makes me laugh to see Cameron lurking like  a creeper in the back ground of that one of Jace.  Also, thank you Emily and random-person-from-pinterest who painted and designed their kids ninjago outfits before me so I could completely copy them. 

And thank you random fifth grader at the school who, when we passed by, sneered, "Why are you dressed like boxes?" and reminded me why children over the age of 8 annoy the crap out of me. 

The Halloween party was crazy, like always.  It was raining for the trunk or treat so the kids went through the halls where different people were standing to get their candy.  I kind of felt like maybe it would have been just as effective to throw the candy all over the gym floor and tell them to have at it.

I'm not gonna lie, sometimes going to branch activities makes me so insane with lack of order that I feel like standing on a chair in the middle of the room and yelling at everybody.

But I don't.

I stifle it back and pace back and forth around Brice like an anxious dog waiting for the mail man to come by.

I'm sure the stress is evident all over my face, though.

Livvy was an angel.  So patient and content to be passed around from one person to the next.  And she kept her piggy nose on until I took it off.  I was afraid to leave it on long.  It still didn't smell like modge podge but I used a lot. . . 

So Halloween is over.  Kind of a relief.  And now the after Halloween holiday of "The Battle of the Candy" has started full force.  My least favorite holiday of all.

I should just eat it all for real and spare myself the torture.