"The Great Purge"

A couple of years ago, we ripped out the carpet in the living room so we could refinish the beautiful wood floors that are original to this 1920's house.  We had already done both upstairs bedrooms, and they were fairly easy, so we were ready to tackle the big room (12 ft. X 20 ft.   Ha! And you thought your house was small....).  We took the couches and TV downstairs and were left with nothing but a wide open space.  We took turns rolling a marble from one end of the room to the other, showing how "off" our little house is.  There were also some pretty sweet tap dancing routines going on.  What I remember most was that it was so much fun. 

I'm realizing more and more just how little we need in order to be happy.  I mean, really content.  In fact, I think the things we have tend to get in the way of that happiness far too often.  It's difficult to want to take the time to play a game with the kids or to just lay down and take a nap, when I look around and see all the cleaning up and tidying that NEEDS to be done.  Why?  Because we have SO MUCH STUFF that needs to be cleaned and tidied. 

I think this is what has been feeding into my frustrations lately.  Well, not lately--pretty much for a few years now, but I think I finally have it pinned down.  Today I started what I'm deeming "The Great Purge."  I'm absolutely positive that I can get rid of half my household goods and not miss a thing. (Don't worry--the children and husband will NOT be included in the definition of "household goods.")  What's more, I believe that I will be happier in direct proportion to what I do get rid of.  It's still a theory, but it's one that I'm putting to the test. 

I've done some organizing and some "baby purging" before, but nothing like the "big daddy purging" going on today!   I started with the baby clothes because they have been the bane of my existence for far too long.  Tucked under Maggie's bed for all these years, I was constantly having to repack it all because the children would think, (and what kid wouldn't?) "These would make great doll clothes!" and then proceed to pull them all out of their nicely organized home.  It was exhausting having to pick up their dirty clothes AND the now dirty baby clothes all. the. time.  I finally decided that I could easily get rid of half of what I've accumulated in baby clothing since Hannah was born--in 2000.  Granted, I've been lucky to be able to pass down clothes from one kid to the next, but after thinking about it, I really only used my absolute favorite little outfits on the girls.  I now have only two under-the-bed type rolling containers for newborns all the way to 4T!   Three big white plastic bags are full of decent clothing that I am going to pass along to someone else.  I can't even tell you how good it feels!  What's better is that I'll never have to repack those clothes again, because as soon as this new little one outgrows them, they are getting donated as well!  (Oh, and I'm storing them under the crib so as to avert all temptations to dress up dolls with them!  I know, I know...it's about time.)

So, I have lots on my plate for the next few months because I know that it's going to take me that long to go through things.  Luckily I have nesting on my side right now. :)  If only my energy was equal to it!  For now, I'm concentrating on clothes, then toys will have their turn.  I'm not sure which drives me crazier....

Wish me luck!  I don't think I'll have too hard of a time throwing things out, but the rest of the family may have other ideas....

One More Month....

In somewhat of a panic yesterday, I realized that school starts in one month.  One month from tomorrow, to be exact.  We do start a bit earlier than most schools, but I'm still left wondering what happened to our summer?  Could the highlight of Summer 2011 really be our attempt at a vacation at Flaming Gorge?  I need to plan something really cool STAT!  Something that's dud-proof and will give ME a better memory of my final summer pregnancy.  Because let's be honest, the kids had a GREAT time camping.  Maggie has even proclaimed that her favorite part of the trip as when the wind came roaring through the canyon like a freight train and collapsed our tent--while we were in it!  I'm pretty sure it's only the parents left with bad memories of things because of plans going wrong or things not quite working out the way we'd hoped or envisioned them to.  Then again, maybe its just me.

So, anyway, we've got a 4 1/2 week window of opportunity here, before another summer gets written in the annuls of history, and because I'm a little OCD, I started getting ready in the basement.  You see, I need to go clothes shopping.  I need to know what clothes can be handed down, which pants are salvageable, which need to be cut into shorts or capris, and if there are ANY stainless shirts hanging in closets.  Before that can be determined, we had to clean up rooms, and I mean get into every nook and cranny where my children seem to tuck things for no apparent reason. Before that can be done, we needed to get all the laundry done, so all the clothes were in one place.  It was a fun day!

Of course, once the rooms met with my approval, the toy room also had to be cleaned because it has become a veritable dumping ground for socks.  Yep, socks.  For whatever reason, the girls decided the best place to remove their socks is amidst all the toys and in the cupboards downstairs.  I think during cleanup yesterday, we pulled out at least a dozen pairs.  I suppose that flip flop season has pushed the sock shortage from the forefront, or I surely would have noticed it...

After the kids (mom) finally got things organized and clean, I sent them to bed (yes, it took all. day. long.) and began sorting through the collection of grass stained, holey kneed khakis, navys and jeans to find that I had a total of 10 pairs of pants that could be reused for the upcoming school year.  That's about 1/3 of what I need in order to not have to do laundry every single day.  As for shirts--I never even got around to them!  It was all about the pants yesterday....  So, I guess I will make a trip to the DI and to Savers next week to load up on 20 pairs of pants, and hope they have enough for my whole brood.  I've discovered that for the same price as cheap pants from a retail store, I can generally find a few vintage pairs that are better quality and in good enough condition to last at least as long as the cheap, brand new pairs.  And let's face it--buying clothes for 4 children is hard enough on my pocketbook, especially when I still have 4 different school supply lists to fill!  I'm tired already.

As for that "ultimate" summer activity, I'm still working on it.....we'll see if there are any funds left after school shopping.

Stringham Family "Trip" 2011

After getting home from our trip to Flaming Gorge, I sat down and wrote an entire novel on all the things that happened {i.e. went wrong} between Friday and Tuesday.  I uploaded 40 pictures, and literally spent hours writing and then carefully placing the pix in their appropriate spots along the way.  Upon returning to my project after dinner last night, I discovered that blogger had deleted THE ENTIRE THING.  While I still remember every detail of the trip, I'm having the hardest time motivating myself to rewrite everything, especially since all my wittiness seems to have disappeared along with my previous post.  Therefore, I will spend the next 2 hours RE-uploading all 40 pictures {because the combination speed of blogger and my laptop makes me feel like I've returned to DOS mode}and then I'll decide whether to give you the Cliff's Notes Version that I'm leaning toward, or the full version I may try to regurgitate.  Thankfully, your wait time will be much shorter than mine......

Cliff's Notes version it is!

My beauties so happy at the beginning of the trip!

Dixon not very happy with the late start and bad signage in the Ashley National Forest that put us behind another hour.

Mom and Dad were not as happy in the morning as the girls were, after sleeping on a slab of rock instead of their air mattress, thanks to a corroded air pump.

The National Park Service didn't know this little guy was going to be at this campground or they would have been much more clear in their description of the site.  i.e. "There is a 1700 ft., unfenced drop into the gorge about 20 yards away from your tent."

Have you seen this shake & pour pancake mix?  Campers dream!

Picnic site @ Flaming Gorge Dam where Mike took the girls fishing with his $11.00 pole he bought at the Evanston Walmart because his fishing gear was left at the bottom of the stairs waiting their turn to be loaded into the Suburban.

"Petting Zoo" at the Flaming Gorge Lodge that consisted of a donkey, a goat, two llamas and a miniature horse--none of which wanted to be pet.  I thought the sign nailed to a nearby tree stating the animal's prices was a nice touch.

Bridget Dorothy was so excited when she found out her horse's name was Dorothy!

Dixon resting after the first of his 3 falls.  The kid is like a peanut butter sandwich that always lands jelly-side down.  I may have to get him a helmet.

Instead of showing you my bedhead, I decided to show you my twin's instead.

View of the drop off.

Could they be any cuter?!  Seriously!

Our attempts at containing Dixon in the stroller were thwarted when he figured out he could just stand up and walk anyway.

Decided not to drive in to Dutch John for the fireworks since the camp host told us we could see them from the ridge.  We did not stay to watch the entire quarter-sized display.

40 miles to the nearest church + no showers at our campsite = our Sunday nature hike.

The one and only place with fencing.

Afternoon thundershowers EVERY day produced some lightning that hit this tree about 20 yds. away from Mike and Dixon.

The lightning blew the bark almost 15 ft. away from the tree.  We started noticing several trees after that which had been hit by lightning previously.  Not a good ratio for a campground with PEOPLE in it.

4th of July Parade @ Vernal.

Bridget giving us a replay of her puking episode on the way down the canyon into Vernal.

Since when does the drill team ride unicycles?

Utah Field House of Natural History aka the dinosaur museum

Dippy the diplodychus' 112 millionth (give or take a few thousand) birthday.

Ended our excursion to Vernal at the Big Kahuna Waterslide Park.  That meant ONE waterslide, a community of people who actually thought they looked good in a bikini, and a lovely specimen who opted for tattoos over a top row of teeth. I'm quite certain I'll only go back to Flaming Gorge if the following conditions are met: 1) They grow more trees so we can camp in the shade; 2) We get a boat; and 3) A plague wipes out whatever it was that gave me the worst allergies I've ever had in my life, forcing me to walk around with paper towels shoved up my nostrils and eyes so swollen and watery that I looked like someone punched me in the face.  I think I'll want someone to punch me in the face if I ever suggest going to Flaming Gorge again.

Great Expectations

I already outlined the events occurring up to "The Calling," Mike received, but there is a little bit of information that I neglected to disclose.  You see, about two days after we were called in to meet with the Stake President, Amanda passed her little white stick test.  Yep...  Stringham #6 is on HIS way!  For those of you who were there when I swore up and down that Dixon's miserable pregnancy would absolutely be my last, you may not know the whole story.

Three days after that blessed little son came into our lives, I sat gently rocking him one night.  In the quiet, the most overwhelming feeling came over me, and I KNEW he was supposed to have a brother.  You can imagine my emotions as I sat there, enduring through another agonizing afterpain...

I find it ironic that at the same time Mike and I felt that the timing was finally right, that he would receive a call to be Bishop.  Sometimes the Lord's humor is lost on me.  And if this baby turns out to be a GIRL....I may need to schedule an interview with the Bishop.

Oh yeah, our due date is 11/11/11.  What's up with that?

I haven't been feeling the blogging love lately...writing or reading.  I don't know why.  I used to peruse them for hours, gathering ideas and learning new things.  I don't know if I'm just over it all or if I'm in a blogging funk.  We'll just say that's what it is.  A funk. 

Not so
much is new around here....besides that whole "Bishop" thing, which hasn't been nearly as ominous as I was preparing myself for.  Maybe Mike has a different story, but from my perspective, it hasn't been overwhelming at all.  Yet.  I'm no fool.  It's definitely become a family effort, though.  We had the girls sticking new address labels on the tithing envelopes during conference.  They thought that was the best job in the world.  Secretary anyone?

On another note, I think we've finally kicked the puke bug out the door.  (Fingers crossed.)  It's been hanging around for almost a month now, wreaking havoc and making life more difficult than it really needed to be.  I was upset one particular Sunday when Maggie got sick right before church, causing me to have to stay home and take care of her.  ( I know, I clearly have anger issues, as referenced in the prior post...) Then when both Dixon and Katie decided to get sick through the night, I was much more grateful for the daytime puking.  Funny how that works.  This does NOT mean I'll be happy about pukers next time, but I'll be ever so grateful if they--or we--decide to do it in the light of day.  You can consider this a request.

Now that Spring Break is here, I'm hoping to keep the Bedlamites under control.  (Don't you just love that new word coined by Elder Holland at conference today?)  We're planning on a trip to the library sometime tomorrow before Meredith takes the girls for a sleepover tomorrow night. I love that even though she has boys and I have girls, they all get along so well and really have a great time playing together.  My most-oft request by Bridget is, "Can we go play with Zach and Wes?"  To which my most-oft response is, "Not today."  Because she really does ask me every. single. day.  Sometimes more than once, based on her level of boredom, or sometimes frustration with Mom.  Anyway, after the sleepover, we pretty much have no plans, at least not until Friday when the cousins come into town.  I'm going to have to come up with something because that really is a very bad idea to have no plans unless I'm okay with hearing, "Mom!  I'm bored!" for 4 days.

So that's it for now.  Maybe I'll catch the blogging bug again soon....as long as it doesn't bring the pukes with it.

It's not about you.

A quiet moment is terribly elusive these days, which is probably why it's taken me so long to sit and write.  The last few months have been interesting, to say the least, and I find that retrospection and introspection have become my constant companions.

A few months ago, there started to be chatter in the ward about the pending change of the guard as the Bishopric was nearing their five year tenure.  I suppose it's the same in all wards, as there's a natural curiosity and even an excitement that comes with change of this type.  There were many moments when Mike and I would catch ourselves speculating who it might be, and without speaking it out loud, my mind would always come back to Mike.  I laughed.  Sometimes out loud.  Then I'd think, "He'd be a GREAT counselor!" But just as quickly as the thought would come into my mind, another thought would replace it: Bishop.  This went on for a good two months until finally I forced myself to stop thinking about it altogether.  It was just too "unrealistic" and honestly, I didn't want to think about the consequences a call of this magnitude would mean for our young family.  Too overwhelming.  Too daunting.  Besides, with two time-consuming callings of my own, a fledgling company to run, a household to maintain and a family to raise, I was looking for ways to remove burdens, not add them to our platters.
One Sunday particularly embodied the old adage, "Anything that can go wrong, will."  After a rough night for Dixon (which translates into no sleep for Mom and Dad), Mike got up and left for his usual 7 am Stake meetings.  Before my feet could even hit the floor, I was in a bad mood.  I awoke to find that the kids had gotten up and poured their own cereal, which, around here is the equivalent to a monsoon roaring through the kitchen.  Cereal and milk were everywhere, and as if that wasn't enough, two of my lovely children were now throwing up that cereal and milk.  Talk about wanting to move to Australia.  I kept trying to talk myself out of being such a grump, but I was not budging.  My day continued, with little nuisances being thrown at me right and left and I was just plain angry about it all.  Angry that I didn't get to go to church.  Angry that my children couldn't see that mom was in a bad mood, so they should be on their best behavior so as to make things easier on their poor mother.  Angry that I had to answer the darn mortuary phone every time it rang.  Angry that I had to clean up puke.  Angry that I had to break up fights and listen to squabbling and pick up dirty socks laying on the floor.  Angry that Mike got to sit peacefully through his meetings and feel the Spirit and pay attention to talks and lessons.  Angry that I was still in pajamas with greasy hair hanging in my face. Angry. Angry. Angry. 
Then the phone rang.  Too angry to answer, I let it go to voicemail.  "Brother Stringham, this is Pres. Austad.  I'd like to speak with you for a minute if I could today..."  Not an unusual request, considering Mike's on the High Council.  It's probably just something having to do with the Blood Drive or Pennies by the Inch.  But I knew it had nothing to do with the blood drive or with Pennies by the Inch.  Mike came in and I mumbled to him angrily that there was a message for him on the phone.  He listened to the message, then went to our room and shut the door.  Moments later, he came into the kitchen where I was stirring dinner on the stove--in my pajams, with my greasy hair pulled back in a pony.  Pres. Austad wants to see us tonight.   "D@%!-it!"  I whisper-yelled as I burned myself on the stove, letting a superlative fly that hadn't come from my lips in years.  I spun around to see Mike standing with the phone in his hand, awaiting my reply, which clearly was not the one he was expecting as the Stake Pres. listened on the other end of the line.  With a look of horror, I said, "Yes, of course we'll come see him."  Then with a knot in the pit of my stomach, I finally dragged my angry, filthy self into the shower.
How can the Lord ask us to do this? We can't possibly manage this calling.  How am I going to do this on my own, without Mike there to help me?  Is this really happening?  Couldn't it be something else?
Then, with a clarity my mind rarely enjoys, the thought came, "It's not about you."  Well, that was enough.  My pity party had been crashed and I knew it was time to just stop being angry.  We left the puking children at home with Maggie and went to the Stake offices where we were greeted warmly by Pres. Austad.  The dread was gone.  The knot in my stomach was gone, and Mike's vice-grip on my hand had loosened considerably.  Pres. Austad pushed a letter across the desk to us and said, "I received this letter in the mail this week from the First Presidency, directing me to call you, Brother Stringham, as the Bishop of the Roy 8th Ward."  The Spirit in the room was palpable.  The call was accepted without reservation as we knew that we'd been prepared to receive it.  The promptings and thoughts we'd had in the months preceding all made perfect sense.  Our inability to leave the mortuary and consequently the ward, no matter how many times we tried, made perfect sense.  The several responsibilities Mike had been given as a High Councilor, and that he unquestioningly fulfilled, prepared him to serve in this capacity.  Hindsight is an amazing blessing.
We kept this information to ourselves for nearly a month.  Only a few family members were even made aware of the call before last week's Sacrament Meeting, and by the look of surprise on people's faces as we walked into the chapel with our little entourage, it was an unexpected change.

I'm excited for Mike--not that I'm looking forward to him riding an emotional roller coaster as he'll try to help people through their trials and challenges and heartaches.  But I know that with all this will come a new understanding and a new kind of growth.  I've seen how being on the High Council has changed him, and I can only assume that the Lord has even more work to do on him, and I'm so proud of the way Mike has allowed himself to be what the Lord wants him to be. 

I don't pretend to know the first thing about being a Bishop's wife, but I think I'll manage as long as I can remember, "It's not about you."

So.....here we go!  Wish us luck, and a few prayers our way would be appreciated!