Proud MOFia member

I joined the MOFia about three years ago. It was shortly after the Beast was born actually. In fact, I was one of the first members when it was founded. We've grown since then. Some members have left the group never to be seen again. Some have gone, but realized they can't live without us, so they came back. Some members turned on us. They were promptly deleted from our group. Most of us, though, have become lifelong members, and we'll be loyal to our dying day. I'm one of those members.

I check in with the other MOFia members just about every single day. I sit around and shoot the breeze with them, telling jokes, offering suggestions, or just enjoying the fact that I'm not the only one like me. It's true what they say about birds of a feather.

"What the heck is the MOFia?!", you may ask. It's an online message board for LDS women. MOF means "My Online Friends". We added the "ia" later when we started having to band together on behalf of other members. MOF doesn't sound scary. But, who in their right mind wants to haggle with the whole MOFia?

We're a pretty big group, sometimes having a total membership of about 135. We're each wildly different from one another, and yet we're all so much the same. We understand each other's jargon and terms like dh, mil, rofl, ttc, pg, gno, gwo, imo, ita,dd, ds, and eta all make sense to us.

We just "get" each other. I think it's because, even though we're all so different, we have one major thing in common: We're all members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Some of us are strong, active, wise beyond our years members of the Church. Some are newer members still struggling to get our bearings. Some of us are lifelong members also still trying to gain an understanding of where we fit in the mix of it all. No matter where we are in our religious progression, though, that's the thing we have in common. It's amazing what being of the same faith can do for people, isn't it?

Oh, don't think for one second that we just sit around and quote scripture, suggest new and exciting techniques for darning socks, or hero worship our husbands all day. The MOFia couldn't be further from all that. (In fact, I don't think sock darning has EVER been mentioned...and we certainly don't WORSHIP our crazy husbands!). I suppose we do talk about church, and our callings and try to discuss some aspects of our faith as they come into play. Mostly, though, we talk about everything. Really, we talk about just about anything that you can think of. And, remarkably, we have specialists on almost every topic.

Want to know the safest carseat for your baby, and how to put it in the car? We have someone for that! Want to know what your fertility signs are and how to get pregnant quicker? We have someone for that! Need some tips to spice up your life in the bedroom? We have a lot of people for that one! (Certainly not me, though. I'm much to shy to talk about...um....well....you know). Are you wanting to learn a new talent like photography, sewing, scrapbooking, singing, playing an instrument, bargain shopping, teaching, or using Photoshop? We've even got people for all of that! Ever wonder if that weird rash you keep getting is normal? We can tell you whether it is. Ever wonder if your mother-in-law is normal? Well, she's probably not, but we can confirm it for you. You know those crazy neighbors you have that are driving you nuts? We call them the McTrashy's, and you can come over and vent about them all you want. We'll join right in and support you. Need house decorating advice? We can help you with that, too. We can help you find that totally obscure recipe you've been dying to make. We can reach out and work with you while you deal with your child's special needs. We can help you survive your kid's first day of Kindergarten or *gasp!* their first day of a very long summer vacation. Does your kid have green goop hanging from their nose and a whole list of other disgusting symptoms? We can probably diagnose your kid for you and have them cured before you ever make it to the doctor's office. Really, there is NOTHING the MOFia can't do for you.

We hang out in our underwear chatting away, posting nonsense in one thread, and serious topics in the next. We're a team. I guess I should clarify that we're only in our underwear because we can't actually see each other while we're typing. We do see each other once a year at our annual Girls' Weekend Out. And, depending upon where we live, some of us even have regional Girls' Night Out events. We send cards to each other when someone is sick and have an annual Christmas card exchange. The really nice part is that everyone there knows someone else in real life. That's the only way you can become a member. Well, almost everyone knows someone else in real life. We have one special member from Australia. None of us have met her in person yet, but she's coming to the States someday. In the meantime, we talk to her on the phone. She's the real deal. Cute accent and all. And, I can assure you that she's not some dirty old man reading our posts and having a grand old time. No dirty old man can fake a cute voice like that.

So, there you have it! That's what the MOFia is. Those girls are my best friend. Oh! Did I mention it's girls only? No men allowed (although the King does often read over my shoulder). If you put all of those girls into one, though, they really have all of the qualities you could ever want in a best friend. So, I say they're my best friend. They were there with me when Snort was so sick. They've been with me through at least 5 miscarriages. They held my cyber hand when the Beast had his surgery. They were one of the first to know when the Beast could hear. They rejoiced with me when we first heard heartbeats on Pretty and Snort. We go with each other through the good, the bad, the ugly, and the McTrashy's.

Honestly, I think the world would be a better place if everyone had a MOFia chapter they could join. It might be the answer to world peace. Alas, there is only one chapter of the MOFia in the whole world. And it's by invitation only.

Parenting 101: Taught by Number One

I've been blessed to have smart kids. I know, every single parent says they have smart kids. But, truly-mine are too darn smart for their own good. The other day Number One decided to prove that he is, indeed, too smart for his own good.

I asked him to pick up some of his clothes and put them in the hamper, and probably asked him to do a couple other "totally unfair" things, like put his trash IN the garbage rather than next to it. You know, all those cruel things that only really mean parents make their poor, innocent children do. He decided he didn't want to do the tasks I asked, and explained why. "I'm on vacation, so I shouldn't have to do anything. And, besides, you're the parent. Parents should have to clean up their kids' messes".

While I was grateful for the memo and accompanying parenting tip, I have to say this was not the wisest thing he could have said to me. My response: "You're right. It's vacation. I shouldn't have to do anything, either. When you get hungry, go ahead and make something yourself. I'm on vacation. You know that shirt you wanted me to wash? Good luck with that. I'm on vacation. Oh, and I know you wanted me to take you to rent a movie or play with a friend. Yeah, I forgot. I'm on vacation. You have fun, though."

I also let him know I'd be writing his parenting tip in a safe place (like on a blog or something) for safe keeping so he can return to it for reference when he is a parent. And, just for good measure, I said a special prayer that night. I prayed that he'd be blessed with great fertility (after he is married and NOT living in my house) which results in quintuplets that are all just like him.

Fun stuff in the last few months

After almost a year, I got a new haircut...

...and I LIKE IT! It's a little more dramatic than anything I've ever done. I was just SURE the King wouldn't like it. To my surprise, he kind wants me to add some bright reds or pinks to it. Hmmmmm....I'll have to think on that. What do y'all think?

So, This Was Christmas

I wanted to give my kids a memorable Christmas this year. I had the gifts purchased, wrapped, and ready to place lovingly under the tree. I had the turkey feast purchased and ready to bake. I had even selected the outfits the kids would each wear to open their gifts so that I'd have fabulous pictures to look back on. It was going to be an exciting Christmas for all of us, and I was ready.

We had noticed in the week previous to Christmas that Snort, Pretty, and Number One had little colds. I contacted the doctor, and got them what they needed to get over it. I don't like to medicate my children much because I'm a believer in letting their bodies grow their own immunities, but I suppose that's a whole other blog post for another time. Snort is, of course, too little to have medications anyway, so the doctor. gave us suggestions to help make him more comfortable.

I monitored him each day, and sometimes it seemed like he was getting better. Other days, he seemed a little more off. Finally, the Saturday before Christmas, I opted to take him into the Saturday pediatric clinic just to be sure all was well. The doctor looked him over, listened to his lungs, and gave him two thumbs up. I couldn't have been happier. This was a sure sign that the holidays would go off without a hitch.

Sunday, I kept Pretty and Snort home from church with me. I haven't quite been ready to take my beautiful new baby and expose him to all the germs that are floating around in church. I noticed throughout the day that he was really sleepy and hadn't eaten much. I guess I just wasn't on top of things enough to realize that these were signs that something more was wrong with him. By that night, he was rather pale. Even our close family friends noticed that something wasn't right with him. We were hoping to wait it out until Monday morning, Christmas Eve, so we could get him to the pediatrician. We also got him a blessing, just for peace of mind and to bring him comfort.

As the night progressed, we noticed his breathing seemed off. I didn't jump into action because Pretty used to do something very similar. I panicked when she did it, and it turned out to be her reflux. I did NOT want to take her to the ER for reflux. So, the King and I watched him...and watched him...and watched him. There was no change. But, I was starting to feel like he needed to be seen by a doctor. I told the King, and he agreed with me. (He never argues when I feel like something important is happening and needs to be addressed. Thank goodness!)

So, we took him in at 12:45 in the morning. It was now Christmas Eve. We figured he might need a breathing treatment, and would be home shortly after that. We couldn't have been more wrong. He was quickly taken to triage, probably because I wrote "labored breathing" on the form asking why he was there.

I calmly took him into the triage room while the King waited in the waiting room for us. The nurse took his vitals and observed his breathing. He stayed straight-faced the whole time, even as he took Snort's oxygen saturation level. It hovered at 67%, and went up to 80% with a good breath. Having had a child with asthma, I knew these were NOT good numbers. The nurse said he was going to get a room, and would be back shortly. He went in back, a code was called, and within twenty seconds, Snort and the King and I were being brought back. From there, all Hell broke loose.

Before I knew it, my sweet 30 day old baby was in pediatric critical care and there were about twenty people in there feverishly working on him. I turned around to find the King gone from the room. Apparently, he had been taken out to register the baby, leaving me alone. There I was in my own personal Twilight Zone. Doctors and nurses were scrambling around the room trying to help Snort. They cut him out of his clothes to get to him faster. Questions were coming at me left and right, and I couldn't begin to answer them. I just panicked. I stood there like an idiot crying trying to figure out how I had missed that my precious baby was in serious distress for hours and hours. My mind was just spinning out of control. It was like time was frozen around me. I could see it all happening, but I couldn't become a part of it. I just stood there terrified that I was losing my baby, and on Christmas Eve no less.

He was finally stabilized, and tests were run. Shockingly, his lungs were totally clear. Whatever was wrong with him was viral. Obviously, he was staying there in the hospital. Luckily, we got a doctor to agree to take him on and not force us to rush him to the Children's hospital in the bigger city an hour away.

So, at 4:45am on Christmas Eve morning, we were officially admitted. This was so not part of my holiday plans, and I was beyond shell shocked. The King stayed the rest of the night, what was left of it, in the hospital with Snort and me. He went home to care for the other three kids later in the day. So, there I was alone in the hospital just grateful to still have this beautiful baby I had been blessed with.

I got to go home for an hour that night to set up the Christmas tree for Number One, Beast, and Pretty to find on Christmas morning. Our babysitter came and stayed the night with us at the hospital so I could come home right when the King called to say the kids were awake the next morning. I got no sleep that night. None. My heart was broken in so many ways. I wanted to curl up in a corner with my little family and hide and never come out.

The King called me bright and early in the morning when Number One woke him up. I came straight home and got to enjoy watching the gifts being opened. And then, I had to leave again. I cried all the way back to the hospital. I had just had Christmas without Snort. And then, I was leaving my children to spend the rest of the holiday away from them. I couldn't play games with them, make them the feast I'd planned on, or just generally enjoy the holiday the way we had hoped.

A few days after being admitted, Snort developed pneumonia, and a whole new treatment plan was begun. Thankfully, the treatment plan worked, and we made it home that Friday. We are home with breathing treatments, apnea monitors, medication schedules, and special feeding plans. But, we are home.

So, Christmas wasn't what I thought it would be. In fact, it was a nightmare. If I could cancel it every year from here on out, I think I might. We're shooting for a lovely Easter...or Halloween. Either way, I'm not counting on Christmas going very well ever again. (For those that don't know, last year was somewhat similar to this one.

What I did get out of Christmas this year, was an opportunity to count my blessings. I learned how loved we really are. My visiting teacher brought us dinner on Christmas Eve, and it was no small dinner. It was AMAZING! And, she cooked my turkey for me before delivering it to my family. If I couldn't be there, at least the dinner could be, right? She then called our Relief Society president who arranged for someone to take the Beast off our hands for a few hours and meals through the holiday weekend. Wow! That is some big sacrifice on the part of people who should have been enjoying their own holidays, not worrying about mine.

I also realized how lucky I am just to have my amazing husband and four beautiful children. No amount of turkey or beautifully wrapped gifts or holiday fun can outshine having a family who I love and who is together. I'm just grateful beyond grateful to have them all okay.

So, this was Christmas. And I'm glad that it's over. And I'm not looking forward to next year's Christmas, but I am looking forward to making special memories all year round.

Even in Imperfection, There is Perfection

I'm not usually the sentimental type. I hate getting all mushy and ooey gooey and sappy. I save that for the King. He's the one who cries at Hallmark commercials. Me? I like to think I'm tough. But, sometimes I let my guard down. Sometimes I really do take the time to put aside the sarcasm and silliness and think about things at a different level. Don't get too used to it, though. It won't happen much.

This time of year is one of those times. With all the hustle and bustle of the holiday season, it's easy to forget the true miracle that happened, which is the whole reason we celebrate Christmas in the first place. We forget about that tiny baby, born to a virgin mother, laying cold in a manger. We forget what purpose he would serve during his short life on the earth.

Instead, we worry about buying just the right presents, hanging the lights, sending out the cards, baking the cookies, and planning meals. I was that way, too, until about four years ago. The Christmas of 2003, The Beast received a gift. It was something I'd always had, and didn't think much of. Number One and The King had it, too. In fact, I didn't know anyone who didn't have it. It seemed like such a simple thing. It was something I suppose I'd taken for granted. That is until the day I realized that my sweet baby didn't have it.

The Beast was born with a very serious hearing loss. At the time he was born, his hearing loss was moderate to severe, meaning he couldn't hear my voice or the beautiful voice of his father as he sang. He couldn't hear the rain falling, the phone ringing, the dogs barking, or the church choir singing. He was so perfect, though, as he laid in my arms calmly sleeping. He was oblivious to the world around him, and seemed to be just content in his imperfection. It was perfect for him.

That Christmas, just after he turned three months old, The Beast got his very first pair of hearing aids. I remember how much the words to the song, "I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day" suddenly meant to me. I wanted my perfect little baby, even with his slight imperfection, to hear the bells, too. And he did. When The King and I took him to the audiologist so she could give him his Christmas present, we were so worried that he'd hate them, or that they wouldn't work or...oh, I don't know. We just worried. But, as we placed those great big hearing aids into those tiny little ears, he opened his eyes and looked straight up at his daddy...and he smiled.

That was four short (and VERY long) years ago. The Beast eventually lost the rest of his natural hearing and has since received a cochlear implant. Again, he was given a gift that I'd only ever taken for granted. His implant gave him even more sound and clarity and independance. He reminds me every day to take NOTHING for granted. Each and every morning, when I place his aid in one ear and his cochlear implant processor on the other, he says two tiny words that remind me of what I should be saying, too. He says "Thank you".

Four years ago, when we first learned that our tiny little angel couldn't hear, it was such a shock. How could something so perfect, so peaceful, and so pure have any imperfections? We know the answer to that question now. There is no imperfection. It was because of what he didn't have that we learned what we do have. And that is pure perfection in my eyes.

I hope you enjoy these little videos of our angel now. He's all "grown up", at least as much as you can be when you're four.

And This is Why Some Halos are Perfect Just the Way They Are