sam's international night

Last Thursday night was International Night at Sam's school. Each grade represented a country. The kindergarten was Mexico. As part of their presentation, they did a little dance. (See video below.) Before the dance started, Mr. Dowdle, the principal, was having some trouble getting everyone to settle down. He told everyone who could hear him to raise the 2 finger quiet sign. Here's Sam in the sea of kindergarteners holding up his two fingers. We love Sam.





Then followed the dancing. Sorry this file is big. What you really want to watch for (Sam is in the last row, center) is when we "sing as we're swaying." Sam has his arms locked in the Hitch-approved position and sways his little hips for all he's worth. The file's kind of big and I've never uploaded video before, so hopefully everyone can see it.

Special thanks to Cherish for taking the video and remembering her camera - even when Mom forgot!

we had our easter lesson early

So, our dog Maisy died this morning. This was definitely not the course I thought we were headed for when Steve, Jake, and Will drove to Paul, ID to pick Maisy up last Thursday. I was actually more concerned about how to keep the puppy from eating the kids' shoes that are constantly strewn all over the backyard.

Turns out the poor little thing came to us with some sort of intestinal puppy virus. She was calm at first and then turned to lethargic, then depressed. It was very sad.

So this morning, we had our Easter lesson early. My three little brown eyed boys sat on the couch while we talked about Jesus, death, and resurrection. They nodded at all the right moments, wondering why we were having family home evening in the morning, on a Tuesday.

The rest is all very sad, as my boys realized at different moments that death is real and Maisy is the one who is dead. The details make me cry, but suffice it to say that as we buried Maisy in the backyard and placed "popcorn popping" blossoms over the dirt, Sam prayed the most heartfelt prayer I've ever heard through his little five year old tears.

"Dear Heavenly Father, please watch over our puppy, Maisy."

Even though it seems like such a small thing, I am so very grateful for a loving Heavenly Father who gave us the gospel, taught us to pray, sent us His son, and put things like popcorn trees on the Earth to remind us that even though things die, in the spring they always rise again.

daisy head maisy

Will's birthday puppy - Maisy. Any guesses on what kind of puppy she is? She has webbed feet - so that makes her a water dog of some sort.

So far, she isn't driving me crazy yet. So far.

my girl

Some things about my girl:
1. She won't smile at you unless you talk to her first. She will also accept a song for a smile.

2. She enjoys her beauty sleep. (sometimes 12 hours at night - must be why she's so pretty.)

3. She squeals. None of my boys have ever reached her high notes.

4. She is very patient. But when she's done waiting, she's done. She wants food NOW! (Just ask the ladies in my Relief Society on Sunday.)

5. She has beautiful blue eyes. And when her hair is clean it's spiky. But don't call her spike (or chubby) - she is a lady after all and she doesn't like it.

Only When You're the Mother of Boys...

So, Uncle Joe and Aunt Michelle came over tonight. Poor things, they came to the late afternoon craziness of Casa Bunker - the kind that few survive. The boys had been attempting to build a club house out of the couch cushions (and all their toys, because really what would a club house be if one didn't have ALL their toys inside to play with, right?)

After we all ate dinner and the boys taunted Joe about fighting him for the cantaloupe, it was time for Bunker boys play time. For those of you who haven't yet experienced this first hand, it can only be described as loud. Very loud. Rowdy. Very rowdy. Borderline dangerous rowdy. Excited screams of joy and delight are often punctuated by screams of pain as jumping boys miss and hit someone or something.

...As a side note, we have a little friend who sometimes stops by in the afternoon to join in the madness. He's the same age as Will and is (for now) an only child. He is very quiet and generally content to sit in his mother's lap. However, one evening after spending some quality time in Bunker boys play time, he climbed up on his couch at home when his Dad came home from work and, standing tall and proud demonstrated the proper technique for jumping off the couch. Complete with whooping. So, yeah, my kids teach other kids bad things...

So, usually the game with Uncle Joe is "see who can run away faster while Joe throws balls at us." The other day they played Sam got pegged in the face, so I think the game has sort of lost its appeal. Anyways.

Tonight someone got the brilliant idea to put Matchbox cars on the ceiling fan blades. This is really nicely facilitated by big, tall, Uncle Joe (6'5"). So, the boys took turns gathering up all the vehicles they could find (including the GeoTrax vehicles which are rather large) and piling them up for Uncle Joe. Then, with precision that would've made the Mythbusters proud, Uncle Joe systematically lined them up on the fan blades to see how fast and how far they would fly once the fan was turned on.

Somehow, Aunt Michelle, Mom, and Abby - all sitting in the path of danger - managed to come through unscaythed. Interestingly enough, so did the boys. I kept waiting for the Matchbox ambulance to take someone's eyes out, but I guess for once we managed to stay out of the "one last time" window my Mom was always telling us about - the window where someone is guaranteed to get hurt. And of course it was an accident. **Love you Mom!**

Anyways. Only with boys. I wish I'd gotten a picture of their excited dance as they waited to turn the fan on and then their dance with near death and destruction as they waited for the cars to rain down on them. Complete with Daddy-sized nightshirts hanging loose on their little boy bodies. Oh, and Will was only wearing a diaper. What can I say?

Have I mentioned, I love my boys? And Abby, I love her too.

PS - we love Uncle Joe and Aunt Michelle, too!

Freedom!

Okay, so the past few days have been cause for a celebration at Casa Bunker. You may wonder why, given the fact that late last week I spent a whole night rocking Will in front of the vaporizer, followed by a whole morning at the pediatrician getting shots and breathing treatments for croup, followed by, um SNOW in March, and more sick kids. Followed by Sunday in our oh-so-incredibly-massively-and-terribly-HOT (like fire and brimstone hot) chapel wrestling with four kids.

BUT CELEBRATE WE MUST!

And why? Because in my former life, my pre-Ned Bushnell life, I would've been popping massive doses of motrin, icing my shoulder, and being in blinding pain. I never had shoulder pain, really, until I had kids. Then hauling and wrestling these little sweethearts aggravated a condition that could be described as brusitis, tendonitis, and chronic impingement. Take your pick. What it means is that my shoulder joint is massively inflamed which means - it hurts, like crazy. So I say things like "hey, doc, my shoulder hurts when I ____" and Doc says, "then stop ____", then I say, "no can do because _____ is a critical part of my life, i.e., carrying my child, bathing my child, feeding my child, etc., my child." So, the past six years have had some pretty painful moments. Moments painful enough that I avoided whatever tasks I could that would aggravate the shoulder.

BUT NO MORE!!

Because now I am in my post-Ned Bushnell life. And for those of you who don't know, Ned is my PT. I love Ned for several reasons First, he and his team of lovely BYU PT students give my 90 minutes of pampering attention - moist heat, ice, stretching, and I can't bring the kids! (hee-hee!) Well, Abby's come a coupla times, but she's not trying to search and destroy the premises.

Another reason I love Ned? Every week he gets all excited about the progress I'm making! I leave PT feeling like superwoman because I'm progressing so much faster (like 80% faster) than other people with my diagnosis. So, for the girl who can't make good progress on diet, exercise, homecleaning, scrapbooking, cooking, or virtually anything else I try, this is a huge thing. Have I mentioned I love NED?!

So now, after about a week of activities that would have destroyed me before Ned, my pain is a ZERO! No pain, no drugs. And I'm taller because my stretches and strengthening of my scapular muscles (or whatever the heck they are) is fixing the posture problem I've, uh, had, since I was taller than every boy I knew, so about, um 15 years at least.

FREEDOM!! Pain free and loving it!

Posting Comments

Dear friends: I think I fixed the post comments problem. You should now be able to click the number of comments located in the post's footer and a little window will pop up below where you can add yours. Let me know if it doesn't work. Love you all!

Truth, Lies, or Dare - My 3 Sons

This is a post about my three sons: Truth, Lies, or Dare.

First, Truth - AKA Sam. Sam is an absolutist. He occupies a world where everything is black or white. When confronted with gray areas, he struggles. Like when "grown ups can make their own choices" even when they are not in sync with Sam's moral values.

He doesn't lie. Even when it would save him from getting in trouble. Oh, he's tried a few times, but he just can't do it. A few times he's come close, but before too long, he rats himself out.

He is a reporter with distinct journalistic accuracy - chronicling everything that happened (or didn't happen) while I was gone, while he was at school, during primary, or whatever. Sam is Truth.

Second, Lies - AKA Jake. Jake likes to make stuff up. Not maliciously, generally, just innocuous make believe. When I was pregnant with Abby, people would ask him what we were naming the baby and he would answer with the most serious tone possible - "Donald Duck."

He likes to make words and expressions up, too. Recently, he's been saying "Mom, I know lots of Spanish words." Oh, really? I ask. "Yup. Like Oogie-oogi-da-boogie. That's a lot of Spanish words I know." Incidentally, he's trying to teach Abby Spanish and so he uses that phrase a lot in his encounters with her.

He and I play hyperbole games like, "I wish I had 100 ____." His fill-in's have included belly buttons, zebras, and hot dogs, among others.

He likes to name call with made-up words, too, which infuriates Truth. When he was younger he used to bring Sam to tears by calling him a "Bupper Head." No idea where that came from, by the way. Then Uncle Ryan taught him the true beauty of "Sam-a-lam-a-ding-dong," and we've not had peace since. Jake is Lies.

Third, Dare - AKA Will. Will generally chooses not to speak, unless it is an outraged "MINE!" or the urgent "MO-OM!" Instead, he just stares you down and dares you. For example, the following exchange where Will's responses are all non-verbal:

Mom: bring me that remote, Will.

Will: What? This remote?

Mom: Will, bring Mom the remote, right now.

Will: Why? You left it out and I found it.

Mom: Will, please bring Mom the remote. RIGHT NOW.

Will: Seriously Mom, you're feeding Abby on the couch RIGHT NOW, so what are you going to do if I don't bring you the remote RIGHT NOW? Besides, I'm trying to figure out how it works.

Mom: Will? Do you need to sit in time out? Bring me the remote.

Will: Time Out? Please. I still don't think you're getting off the couch.

Mom: 1....2....

Will: Are you going to say 3? Because if you do, you're going to get off the couch and I'm going to run - run like the wind - and you're holding Abby and there's toys all over the floor. I don't think you're going to say 3.

Mom: 3. Will, bring me that remote.

Will: Bring it, Mom. Bring it.

Now I must point out that I really don't care that he has the remote, chances are he can't hurt it. Only, this is Dare we're talking about and he is the child who in six short weeks of sleepless nights figured out how to disassemble his pack-n-play FROM THE INSIDE!!! I'm secretly nervous that given enough time with that remote I'd walk into the living room one night to find him in nothing but his diaper watching some pay-per-view UFC THROWDOWN event kicking back on his sippy cup full of milk. So, I get up off the couch. Dare wins every time.

And Abby, you ask? Only time will tell.

cuz luv - jack & abby

Here is Abby (12.26.08) with her cousin, Jack (1.24.09). Aren't they cute?