Camping = Summer! (or at least it should)

Our first camping trip of the season at "Camp Run-A-Muck."  Also affectionately called "The Ranch"

Norma and Thair own property by Ovid and graciously allow us to go camping!  Thair built a small cabin and then brought in another and then a shed.  There is no water, but there are beds and a roof over your head when it rains.  He also has generators that you can plug in to the cabins for power!  We love this spot!

Jason teaching the kids how to shoot a bow and arrow!

Violet is rolling dandelions.

So is Kiella.

Mialee and Sierra shooting the BBGun

Hurley and Aiddie found that they made a great team at coloring.  They would work together and color every inch of a page before moving on to another.

This little girl enjoyed making a mess out of the marshmallows.  Eating them?  Not so much.

Aiddie cooked about 87 marshmallows over the fire.  I think she only ate 4.

These guys built a fort.  Can you see it?  It's that box, sitting on the ground.

Another shot of the "Fort."

Some very serious conversations go on while you are camping!

Nikell had a tummy ache.

Mialee built a fort too.

Hurley wanted a picture in Mialee's fort.

So did Kiella.

Climbing the fence was one of the main attractions.

Buddies.

 These two started dancing for me.  It was the cutest thing ever.

More marshmallow cooking.  She would sit about 5 feet away from the fire and hold her marshmallow very high above the pit.  We were all treated to some awesome luke warm marshmallows.

More BBGun practice.

Jason was helping me hollow out oranges.  We did brownies in them.  So delicious!

Best camping trip of the season!  Thanks Jenni and Darwin for coming with us.  And thanks especially to Jen for the tic removal!  Oh, and thanks to Jason for protecting me from the un-seen, but loudly creeping animals!

A few miscillaneous pictures and Blessing Day!

 I live for this face.  I think I spend an hour or two each day evoking smiles and trying to coax giggles out of this little boy who has completely stolen my heart.  I love him so much it hurts.

Do you ever have those days where you look at your kids and your heart just melts because they are so beautiful and so amazing?  This was one of those days.  This kid just has a personality that people love and sometimes I cannot believe that I was chosen to have the privilege of being her (their) mom...

 And another one...

BLESSING DAY! 

 Truth be told, if I had it my way I would quietly bless my babies in the quiet of my home without all the fan-fair and the hullabaloo that our culture sometimes requires.  But I have also grown to understand the need for others to share in such moments.  And honestly, I quite enjoyed the day!

This little hunk seriously rocked his little suit.  Auntie Meggin helped get him dressed and it was kinda entertaining.  I asked her if she needed help and her reply was, "It's been a while since I wrestled a baby into it's clothes."  Then he spit all over.

 We had Grandparents and Great-Grandparents and friends join us for his special day.  He had a bib on when I sent him to the park with Nettee and Jake, but by the time I got him back it was off.  Lynette explained that it was an unfortunate incident that had resulted from a lack of good judgement on Jake's part in which he removed the bib and Jakoda immediately spit all over his blessing day swag suit.  Lynette's son then tried to place the blame on his mother.  Not to worry though, I understood that a mother of 6 or 7 (sorry Nettee I can't remember how many kids you have) would never remove a bib for the sake of fashion because she would intrinsically know that bib was there for a very good reason.  It's all good though.  We cleaned him up and snapped a few pictures!

 Jason gave an amazing blessing with just the right amount of sincere humor.  I think most people got a chuckle out of him pronouncing Jakoda with a name that came out of "much deliberation...maybe too much."  And when he asked that this little boy be blessed with patience with all of the mothers he will have I almost snorted--and he paused so long that I wondered if he was trying to gain composure himself.  However, he spoke with love and sincerity and I discretely wiped a few tears away as his love resonated with my own.

Thanks to everyone who joined us (physically and in spirit!) and to everyone that helped.  I had a cute picture of Darwin Parker behind his grill makin' pancakes, but it seems to have disappeared.  Love you all!

Gluten Free...now there's Three!

We are up to three out of six kids that now eat gluten free.  A fact which I am not happy about.  A fact that has caused me many tears and a complete meltdown in the middle of a store.  But I am once again adjusting.  Now if I could move on to "accepting."

Mialee was actually diagnosed with Celiac Disease a couple of years ago by her "Pro Celiac" pediatrician.  However her symptoms were limited to eczema.  So I took her to a dermatologist who negated the diagnosis and we made the decision to not take her off gluten.  However in the past 6 months she has slowly increased in anxiety to the point where she was reduced to tears every day when she came home from school from the shear exhaustion of trying to hide all her worries.  She would crawl in the van in misery and we would come home where she would release every little detail of every little possible problem that could have, would have, or did happen during the day.  She would whisper worries in my ear every five minutes.  She would walk around almost in a constant panic and... something. had. to. change.  And after a little research, lo and behold, anxiety can be related to Celiac.  So instead of investing in a psychologist we decided to try the gluten-free route for a while.

Aiddie began to have tummy aches a couple of months ago.  She still eats, but her complaints soon turned into questions, "Mom, why do I always have a tummy ache?"  So we did a blood test--which came back inconclusive and looking suspiciously identical to Nikell's.  So we began negotiations with the pediatric GI to get a scope.  And I say negotiations because I didn't want to have to drive down to Murray 3 times to have him look at her test results and then order an Endoscopy and then actually do it.  We got it all scheduled and then she got sick.  Her cold, that had virtually disappeared, came back with a vengeance and began to turn into Pneumonia.  Her pediatrician launched into a full-scale celiac attack and left me feeling guilty and somewhat like I was in denial.  Which I am.  But if it's not celiac, if there is some small chance that she doesn't have to deal with this "disease" for the rest of her life, then I want it.  But I suppose he won because I took her off gluten.  She still has tummy aches though, so I am taking out milk next...  So poor Aiddie has felt horrible with her constant tummy aches, the beginnings of pneumonia,  and then she got pink eye...  Poor kid.

So here we are.  And I have found that Nikell was a lot easier to accommodate than Mialee because Mialee actually likes food.  So before when I made lasagna all I had to do was throw in a bag of gluten free pasta to make Nikell happy.  Mialee...not so much.  She wants lasagna.  And she wants lasagna that tastes like lasagna not snot.  Go figure.  So now I either cook gluten free or I make two dinners.  I make gluten free lunches and buy gluten free breakfast cereal.  Ugg.

It's okay though if they are happier and healthier...

And on that note, I will share a little story that occurred the other night.

I had prepared a bunch of pasta and then had to go feed a hungry baby and so left the food to be consumed while I was hibernating in the other room.  In the chaos our gluten free kids started eating NOT gluten-free pasta.  This will give Aiddie a tummy ache, but she usually has a tummy ache these days and Mialee really would never know the difference, but Nikell will get sick.  Painfully sick.  So I waited that night for the crying and moaning but it never came.  The next morning I told Jason how surprised I was that Nikell wasn't sick all night long.  A little later that day Mialee was asking Nikell about it and Nikell, very matter-of-factly, replied, "Oh, I didn't want to be sick all night and I didn't want to miss school today so I just said a prayer."  Simple as that.

All In a Hug

Yesterday when I walked into Sacrament Meeting I caught the eye of one of my dear friends, who had moved away and was back visiting.  We immediately embraced in a hug that brought an onslaught of emotions and we were both reduced to tears.  In that hug I literally felt an intense hunger for our spirits to connect again--to enjoy and take part of a deep connection that we, at times, enjoyed together.

The funny thing about our friendship is that is was one of convenience.  We had times when we saw each other nearly every day.  Times when our goals aligned and we attempted to achieve them together.  Times when we invited each other into our lives and shared and cried and laughed together. And then there were other times when we were on completely different paths and we only saw each other in passing at church on Sunday.  But we were always friends and we were both totally okay with our comings and goings.  And so when she moved I was deeply saddened, but life takes us all in different directions and her moving is what she needed.

And so when I saw her I was understandably excited and obviously ran to give her a hug, but I did not expect our souls to intertwine and feel a rush of recognition and a deep sense of pain at not having her available anymore.  But I did.  We both did.

And some how, in the miraculous ways God is able to work, I feel like I was given a strange little gift.  Perhaps a glimpse at what my reunion with my Savior could be like. And since that moment I feel like I have gained a little better understanding of my relationship with my Savior.

David B. Haight said,

In the hearts of all mankind, of whatever race or station in life, there are inexpressible longings for something they do not now possess. This longing is implanted in man by a loving Creator.

It is God’s design that this longing of the human heart should lead to the one who alone is able to satisfy it. That fulness is found only in Jesus the Christ, the Son of our Eternal Father in Heaven. 

Paul declared, “For it pleased the Father that in him should all fulness dwell.” (Col. 1:19.)

In our embrace there was an almost inexpressible longing for something that we could no longer have.  For something that, at times, I worked very hard to nourish and grow.  And yet, at other times, I let it dwindle or she did or we simply could not connect.  That hug produced a longing and need for something that I did not even know how bad I was missing.

And this all reminded me of my relationship with my Savior.  A relationship that sometimes is very close and intimate and other times is placed on the back burner because my path is going a different direction.  

And here is where it is harder to put into words what I felt and learned and am still learning.

In that embrace... in that one moment, I felt a glimpse of how much my spirit might just yearn to be near my Savior again; how much I just might rejoice in the recognition our intwined spirits could have when we do meet again; how much I might just realize I have been missing out on; how much we actually love each other and identify with each other.   How much we need each other. 

That complete understanding.  The complete "Oneness."  That fulfillment that only our Savior can fulfill.

I have heard said that we will be surprised when we meet our Savior at how well we know Him.  Now I get that a little bit.  For I have never questioned our relationship.  I have felt His peace.  I have felt His love.  I have felt His gentle arms encircle me in my darkest moments.  I knew I needed Him and am forever in His debt.  But I don't think I ever really considered that my need for His love and understanding and support could be a two way street.  I suppose I always looked at it like a Father/ Child relationship wherein His understanding would be so much more than mine and that my love would only amount to a small drop in the bucket compared to what He felt.  We would embrace and I would be overwhelmed at being in His presence (almost star-struck) and He would in turn pat me on the head and smile at my naivety.   

I never considered that when we embrace that maybe, just maybe, our longing and our love and our intense need would be mutual.  That when we embrace our souls would almost burst with the pain of being separated and then reunited again.  That we both would weep tears of joy and never...ever want to let go.

And so today, with this small understanding, I will re-commit to nourish this relationship.  I will pray more--more often and more sincerely.  I will read my scriptures more.  I will help others more.  I will be a little better. 

Jakoda Dawson McKellar

This little boy has been such a long time coming; and I don't just mean months of misery; I mean years of waiting and knowing that he was up there.  You see, several children ago, I was in the Young Women's Organization and found myself at Girls Camp walking down a dirt road, with a dear friend, discussing life.  I believe we were talking about having babies, but I'm not really sure.  However, I am sure of the sweet spirit that whispered in my ear that day that there was a boy up "there" waiting to come.  I remember thinking, "Okay, I'll get pregnant then."  And I did.  And it was a girl.  No biggie.  God just knew I needed to know there was a boy as a way of preparing me for future pregnancy (which I hate).  And so, eventually, I got pregnant again.  And it was a girl...again.  Now at this point I can't even really remember how long ago this all began.  Maybe there were two girls to follow and maybe there were three...but there was more than one, for sure.  Anyway, I remember that last ultrasound, laying on the bed and having the tech tell me it was another girl.  I was happy, I really was, because it really didn't matter to me--except that it meant that I had to do it all again if I wanted that boy to come.  So, after the ultrasound, Jason and I sat at a restaurant celebrating our gender announcement--me sobbing uncontrollably.  And as I sat there contemplating yet another pregnancy, I saw a "scenerio" play out in my head.  There in heaven were two spirits and they were arguing.  A girl said to a boy, "It's your turn to go.  Go ahead."  And then the boy replied back, "No, she knows I am here.  If you don't go, you may not get to come to our family--but she knows I am here and I will come.  I promise.  So you go first."  Call it what you want, but for me it was all the more assurance that there was a boy waiting to come to us.  And so I got pregnant again--only to lose a sweet baby boy at 16 weeks.  Now, possibly, you can imagine that I was a little scared about getting pregnant again.  What if that little 16 week old fetus was all the boy I ever saw in this life?  Could I handle it?  What if I got pregnant again and lost another one?  What if I got pregnant and it was another girl?  So many what if's that in the end didn't even matter.  God knew.  I trust Him.  I laid it in His hands.  And, honestly, the night I got pregnant we weren't especially trying (TMI, I know)...but I knew that this was the moment and there was no turning back.  "This is it."  Three simple words that would once again change my world.  So, I guess I had a choice--or at least a little warning...whatever.  Like I said, it didn't matter.

Fast forward several months and I found myself getting bigger and bigger.  And talk about discomfort.  Every day I ached with that boy inside of me.  Every day my mantra was GET. OUT. OF. MY. RIBS.  He never did, really.  And even as my body labored to work him down, he would fight his way back up.  Silly boy.  The upside of this was that in the end I simply had to push him out or keep him in forever.  One minute he was in my belly and within the next few I had pushed him with everything I had.  So his little head came out perfect and round with the cord wrapped around his neck twice--bruised face and a few popped blood vessels in his eyes.  He cried, but only for a minute.  And he was nameless.  Still.  I will never forget the challenge we had naming this poor baby.  I could never tell if Jason was serious or not as most of his name suggestions were quite outlandish--Zollo and Chester to name a few.  We contemplated Griffin and Jason really wanted Mozzi.  Yet, here we were, with a baby and no name to bestow upon him.

I went into labor on the night of the 4th, technically.  I wasn't sure if it would progress into anything real or not and I was able to sleep for a few hours until Kiella woke me up around 2:00 am.  After that I couldn't sleep.  So I bathed and wandered and put a few last things in order.  Around 5:00 am I started bleeding.  So I woke Jason up and told him we were going to the hospital.  We woke Sierra up and called Grandma and Grandpa Beddes to come up and take care of the kids for a while and we headed out.  Once we got to the hospital I was declared a "6" and the waiting began.  Interestingly enough, my contractions are never steady.  I will have one and then another 4 minutes later and then another 7 minutes later and then another 2 minutes later.  But with us just sitting there in bed, doing nothing, they were kind of far and few between.  And so we waited and waited.  They became more intense, but not really closer together.  My nurse was very kind of suggest different positions and even applied counter-pressure (SO AMAZING--I LOVE COUNTER-PRESSURE), and still he did not come.  No biggie except that my doctor was leaving to go to surgery.  So I could either have this baby soon or have another doctor.  Really, I didn't care, but getting it over with was sounding kind of nice to me at this point so I opted for letting my Doc break my water.  And then the fun began.

Let me preface this by saying that I love natural childbirth.  And it's totally doable.  But....This is the moment I dread.  That 20 minutes where your body teeters between life and death.  Those minutes of so much force and pressure and pain that you just shake and moan and you can't even think straight enough to remember that you are supposed to be productive and help get that baby out.  Thankfully, my nurse could see my plight and would whisper words of encouragement, "Work with it--push him out now."  Oh yeah, I forgot about that.  Pushing.  I. was. concentrating. on. surviving.  Honestly, I would tell you it's not that bad, but it kind of is.  BUT it's worth it.  I promise.  20 minutes and you feel the biggest relief you have ever felt in your life.  And it's pure joy.

Baby Boy McKellar, as stated all his official hospital papers (you know, the ones they stick on the plastic cribs) was born at 7:52 am on March 5th.  He weighed 7 pounds and 10 ounces and was 19 inches long--almost a full pound bigger than any of his sisters, but just as short.

It took us the rest of the evening to come up with a name.  In the end we made one up (with Nikell's help) and added Dawson (a combination of Jeri Dawn and Jason) as his middle name.  And so it was that we called him Jakoda Dawson McKellar.  And we love him...all of us.  He is so sweet and fairly mellow and we all fall more in love with him EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

How Are You?

When you approach the end of any pregnancy it seems that the most common questions revolve around, "How are you?"  I usually smile and claim that I am dying.  The honest truth is, though, that I am wearing down...  Let me enlighten you, just for fun.

The days that are the best are the ones that I don't have to go anywhere, thus allowing me to forego the over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder--an apparatus that is comparable to tying a rope around my mid section and tightening it beyond reason and then flipping a switch so that some unseen force begins to  push and kick and beat on my ribs and aforementioned midsection from the inside out.  This baby has a favorite spot.  It involves my ribs and his feet.  And it hurts.  A lot.  I keep thinking it's almost time for him to drop...come on...you can do it little guy...move down.  In the past couple of days I have had moments, even an hour or so, of time where is has drifted on down to more normal baby-carrying regions and I suddenly think to myself, "I can breath!  My ribs aren't screaming in pain!  My kidneys aren't aching!  Pure bliss."  Then he crawls back up and practices his monkey bars just to let me know who is still the boss in this relationship.

So physically I am about spent.  I am huger than I have ever been...in my life--which apparently makes me a snorer on top of everything else.  So Jason is suffering too.

Then you throw in the mix--the 5 little monkeys that are running around my house.  Monkey number one is reasonable and responsible and amazing--until it comes to showering and practicing her music.  Then she is the master of procrastination and distraction.  Monkey number two has reached new levels of anxiety and is currently giving me a run for my money.  She comes home from school crying because of the amount of energy she spends worrying and trying to not look like she is worrying.  So-and-so picked his nose and she saw it so she has to spend the whole day avoiding him and anything that he might have touched or could possibly touch.  So-and-so might have spit on her, but she's not sure, but just in case she better go wash up a bit.  And then there is so-and-so's Dad.  He drinks.  It worries her.  Plus there's the spelling bee that their class was supposed to do on  Thursday of last week, but it hasn't happened yet.  So every night we have to go over four pages, front and back, of possible spelling words because she is bound and determined to make the cut.  Oh, and let's not forget about going to the bathroom.  If we are going somewhere she better go to the bathroom--5 times--just to make sure she doesn't have to go once we've gone.  And at bedtime.  She has a routine that involves going to the bathroom.  But then she has to go right before she gets in bed so she won't wet the bed.  And if she ends up talking to Sierra for 10 minutes then she better go one more time.  (And no, she has never actually wet the bed).  Monkey number 3 has foot and leg pains (from Celiac) and wakes up unable to walk on one foot for half the day.  Or her stomach hurts and she just can't function.  Or she just wants to snuggle because she is a middle child who doesn't feel well half the time.  Or somebody did something mean.  Monkeys four and five have their own issues.  We'll call them screaming and hitting.  No biggie.

This is reality in our house right now.  Tired, aching, whale-of-a-mother is doing her best to calm the fears, dry the tears, and teach appropriate communication skills, while encouraging her children to become master musicians and geniuses of the world.  It's a little harder than it usually is and honestly, my children have picked up a few more chores--namely, removing Mom's boots.  But I have faith that in the end it will all work out--it's just that endurance thing I am struggling with right now.  Not that it's going to get any easier--at least not for a while.  But it's worth it.  I haven't forgot.

I will not forget.  I will not forget.  Through the pain and the tears, the anxiety and the yelling, the sheer exhaustion of motherhood--I will not forget....