in my father's house there are many mansions - can I have my own bathroom?

When I grow up, I want my own bathroom.

• I think I will paint it purple and have flowers in it.
• It will be warm and it will smell, well, nice! It will not cause one to wrinkle one's nose and wonder, what is that smell? And where is it coming from?
  
• It will not have children's toothpaste smeared on the counter.
• It will not have cheeto fingerprints on the light switch, peanut butter fingerprints on the door handle, or some strange unidentified substance on other surfaces and walls.
  
• One will not have to do a check of the potty and its surroundings for evidence that small boys have been frequent visitors.
• One will not have to lock up one's toothbrush to keep it from be "cleaned" in said potty.
• Nor will one have to extract "like a zillion pounds" of toilet paper from said potty following some sort of experiment to find out exactly how much said potty could take before it flooded the bathroom.
  
• One will not have to keep a separate storage facility for things that would typically be found in the bathroom, but because of small explorers and destroyers must be kept off-site. You know, like mascara.
  
• I will not be embarrassed for anyone to visit my bathroom, except that maybe I left my hairdryer out (because it would also be allowed to be, gasp, dare we say it? INSIDE the bathroom)
• It will not be invaded within 30 seconds of occupancy by any person yelling "Mom?!? Where are you?"
• One will not have to empty bath toys and other paraphernalia out of the shower before using it, trying not to drip last night's now cold bathwater on one's half-asleep early morning self.
• The toilet tank will not do that sweaty toilet tank thing.
  
• The rug will not have to be washed on a daily basis to free it from the peril of dirty shoes, fruit snacks, art projects, and other side effects of childhood.
• It will be mine. And only I will be allowed to decide who comes in. If you're nice and don't violate it, you might make the list. Maybe.

Little Princess

Enjoy - she's almost smiling for the camera!
And yes, eyes still blue!

i'm going to miss this?

So, I've been hearing this expression a lot - enjoy this time with your kids because you're really going to miss this time, your kids will only be little once, etc. I was up late the other night folding laundry, because really, who can do that while holding an infant and telling the big boys not to unfold everything in the basket? Anyways. I was listening to President Monson's talk from General Conference in October called The Joy of the Journey. He talked about enjoying the time with your little kids now because one day you'd miss all the laundry and fingerprinted surfaces. I looked down at my mountains and I wondered: I'm going to miss this?

I wondered it again tonight as I watched Will hurl red powerade dyed vomit all over the living room carpet. The carpet is ugly, old, and vile and I hate it, but now it's going to be pink in places, too. As I'm trying to rush him to the bathroom I thought to myself again: I'm going to miss this?

But then, as I looked at Will's big brown eyes ( I should post a photo of just his eyes so you can really understand) as he sadly looked up at his yucky pajamas I thought to myself, I'm going to miss THAT. I'm going to miss that face that looks for me to comfort him when things are going badly. I'm going to miss those eyes that tell me I'm the only person that can make things right again. I'm going to miss the little body curled up next to mine as it tries again to find balance and normalcy after something shocking like throwing up. That. I'm going to miss that.

Powerade puke, maybe not so much.

One other thing I'll miss, especially since my posts recently have all been about Will.

Today we were in the parking lot in the grocery store after an especially stressful shopping trip that involved children running wild through the meat section repeatedly using the automatic hand sanitizing dispenser and making hand sanitizer puddles all over the floor. UG! (incidentally - not missing that either.) Anyways, we get to the parking lot and a pretty rough looking woman comes up to us and tells us she needs money to buy food. As usual, I have no cash. I tell her that much, that I don't have cash and she thanks me and leaves.

Sam noticed this. (He notices everything.) He said "Mom, is that lady poor?" We talked for a few minutes about how she needed money and Mom didn't have any to give her, but if I had had some cash, I would've given her some. And then, with the sincerity only a five year old can muster, he looked right into my eyes and said, "Heavenly Father is glad you tried, Mom."

Thanks, Sam.

I think I'll miss that, too.

little moments

I live for little moments like this:

Sam (who's learning to read) reading to Will (his favorite book: Smash Crash)

and Jake, feeding Abby.

My boys will be such great Daddys one day!

i'm making it right now! (or thoughts on timing)

Yesterday in Sunday School we talked about the Lord's timing versus our own timing. We all agreed that there have been many times in our lives when we've asked for something and then been upset with the Lord because we're not getting it right then. As the discussion progressed, all I could think of were my kids and the oh-so-painful daily event called Dinner Time.

Dinner Time at Casa Bunker is usually met with the following:
1. "I'm hungry Mom." to which I provide some comforting answer like, "Yes, I know, honey, I'm going to make dinner in a few minutes.

2. "But I'm hungry NOW, Mom." to which I repeat the same comforting answer, "Yes, I know, honey. But you're going to have to wait for dinner. I'm going to make it in a few minutes."

3. "BUT MO-OM! I'm so hungry RIGHT NOW!!" to which my answer becomes less comforting and more like, "Do you see me? I'm going in the kitchen RIGHT NOW to make your dinner. Seriously. Have I ever not fed you?"

4. "MOM? What is that disgusting smell? What are you making for dinner?" To which all comfort has gone from my answer and they are either met with "whatever I feed you" or "something really gross and you have to eat it because you're SO hungry!"

5. "MOM!! I need a snack right now. SNACK. SNACK!" You can guess what kind of answer follows.

How does this relate?

In our relationship with Heavenly Father, we are the children. How many times have we told the Lord, "I need ___" in much the same way that my kids tell me they're hungry. Then, like my children, we expect hot dinner prepared to our specifications to instantly appear on the plate before us. After all, we're hungry RIGHT NOW!

Thankfully, our Heavenly Father is a loving (and perfect) parent. While my responses to the repeated begging of my children for what I am currently in the process of getting for them degenerate from kind and comforting to varying levels of exasperation and exhaustion, His continue steady and true. "Yes, my child. I'm getting ____ for you."

But as the children, do we sometimes fail to realize that things take time? Just like chicken nuggets require time to cook before they're hot (and there really is no short cut for that), sometimes the things we've asked for take time. Ours, His, and just time in general.

Further, I think we often respond to what is being prepared or being presented to us in the same way that my kids approach dinner. "You're making what? I don't like that. I'm not going to eat that. That's disgusting." When, in reality, it's something that is healthy and good for us, that we would like if we would only try it, and which may take some getting used to, but at some future point we will not find disgusting.

Finally, as a parent, I really do feel my hungry child's pain. It's been a few hours since they ate and they are are hungry RIGHT NOW. As I'm hurriedly making their dinner, I wish like crazy it would go faster so they would be out of pain. But some things just take time. And if I cheat and give them a snack before dinner, they won't eat the dinner that is coming (and much better) for them. They'll miss out on what is the best for them, that they really do want. On some level, anyway.

So, the Lord's timing is not ours, but in the end, it is the best for us.
And for the time being, He really is making it - RIGHT NOW!

cow kisses

Mr. No-Pajamas has now redeemed himself with a recent string of cute behavior. Funny how that works. What is that saying about mothers and short memories, again? Anyways.

Will and I have this game. I say "Gimme kisses" and stick out my cheek and he runs over and kisses it. It's a fun game. As the affection starved mother of three rowdy boys I take it when I can get it, right? So Will is almost 2 and is a willing participant in this game.

But he's made up a new variation.

Now when I beg for kisses with my cheek stuck out in his direction, he runs over, puckers up, and instead of planting a wet toddler kiss, he presses his lips against my cheek and says "MOOOOOO!!!"

It is the cutest thing ever. Then he giggles as only an almost two year old can and my heart is melted over the pinned pajamas.

Mostly.

pajamas

My almost two year old can get out of his zipper pajamas - you know, the ones with the feet we all remember from childhood. You may wonder why I am astounded by his ability to free himself from an article of clothing that simply zips down the front. Read on.

This particular child has an aversion to clothing. We know this. He rarely stays in his pants all day and if a shirt did not have to be pulled up and over his head not to mention unbuttoned or unsnapped, he'd be stark naked all the time. This being said, we pin him into the pajamas. It's not inhumane. He needs the pajamas to stay warm at night - it's February in Provo for the sake of Pete! If he doesn't wear them, he gets cold and wakes up at some horrifying hour of the night and I have to deal with him then. Furthermore, if he were to be running around in his dark bedroom with no toys (this, too, is done for a reason) chances are he'd get bored and take his diaper off and then that horrifying hour of the night just got even scarier.

So, yes. Horrible mother that I am, I put a safety pin under the zipper pull of my toddler's zipper pajamas.

And. He. Gets. Out!!!

I have no idea how. The pin is still locked in place. The pajamas are still zipped all the way up. They are just in a heap on the floor and he is running around the room. Naked. Cold. Bored. And still not asleep.

Why is this?

If, after a long day of toddler-ing, a gracious and loving mother took the time to bathe me, dress me in warm, soft, and comfortable pajamas, and tuck me into my bed, I would be happy, I would snuggle blissfully into my bed and not wake until dawn. Instead, I'm chasing a naked toddler around trying to get the pin off his pajamas so that I can put them back on him!

I'm not sure what's more amazing here. His being able to get out of the pinned pajamas or my repeated attempts to re-pin him in the pajamas...