Forget Shaving My Legs.

Yesterday Grandpa Dick and Grandma KC rolled into town.  

They like to stay in their personal suite.

Which happens to be parked in our driveway.

I was in our trailer making the bed for them, I figured I'd better wash all the Moab sand off the sheets for them (post on our long weekend Moab trip tomorrow.  Stories.  Do I ever have stories.  Have you ever taken a shovel of sand straight to the face?  At 30 miles an hour?  Stories.  Tomorrow.). I sat and talked about how Great Grandma Johnson came over to America from Sweden without knowing a lick of English with Grandpa Dick and Brynn, who has a school project to do on the subject.  I went into the house and bent to get a plastic sack from under the sink when...

I couldn't bend over.  My lower back was in so much pain.

I have no idea what I did.

I didn't do anything.

I was just going to suck it up and took some ibuprofen to help easy the muscles.

But then Brynn decided to fall while roller blading outside.

And she injured her wrist enough that I felt it warranted a trip to instacare.

And since we were there for her, I put my name on the list too.

Brynn has a possible fracture right above (below?) her wrist.  The radiologist will call today and let me know if the line the doctor was seeing really is a fracture or not.  If it is, we'll have to call the orthopedic to see if it warrants a cast or just keep using the brace that we got from instacare.

We visit instacare far too often.  Usually it's just with ear infections or UTI's before we got a steady pediatrician. 

And for The Man who is accident prone.

It's amazing to me how much of my stuff is stored below waist height.  I feel completely useless.

And forget shaving my legs.

Sorry babe.

Who Can You Trust, Padawan? Professor Trelawney. A Birthday Post.

I was threatened with cadaver parts today.

And threatened with bodily harm.

I laughed in his face.

"Bring it."

Except severed fingers on my desk is kind of a disturbing thought.

Yesterday I climbed into a car with a few of my co-workers and we headed to the gas station for a quick drink run.  We'd hit the afternoon lull and needed a pick me up.

(A pick us up?)

As I climbed out of the front passenger seat I threw my door shut and then...

I was stuck.

My index finger of my right hand had some how become lodged between the two doors in the process of us closing them.

I stared at my finger crushed in the crevice of the doors and felt the pressure and I glanced at the others.

They were blissfully unaware and were starting to walk to the gas station.  I did the only rational thing I could do in this situation and started yelling, "Ow! Ow, ow, ow, ow!"

That got their attention.

I looked at the co-worker who had closed the back door that had trapped my finger.

"The door, the door, open the door, open the door!" I cried.  I couldn't get any other logical thing out of my mouth.  My finger was beginning to pulse and I might have panicked a little.

Just a little.

Finally he realized that my elbow wasn't tweaked up in the air for the fun of it and rushed to open the door and release the car's grip on me.

My finger throbbed and grew hot.

And I repeatedly told them I was fine though I was struggling not to cry.

You can't cry when you're the only girl.  

That makes you the silly girl.  

My finger swelled to twice the size and looked like a little sausage.  There was no feeling to it on the outside, though there was plenty of feeling to it on the inside.

I continued to assure them that I was fine.

Last night Cali complained of a stomach ache. 

(This ties in, trust me.)

And then Brynn complained of one.

In the middle of the night Tayler also complained of stomach pain.

So when my alarm went of this morning I called in with sick kids, figuring with three of them I should stay home.

I sent an email letting various people in my office know I would be home with sick children, but if a certain co-worker asked, to let him know that I was out with a hurt finger.

(See?  It tied in.)  

He's the prankster of the group.  It's fun to prank a prankster.

Turns out this morning the girls woke up and felt fine after all.

So I sent them to school and headed in to work.

Turns out the office had played my hurt finger off well.  One person telling him my finger had been hurt so badly I had to stay home.  The chief investigator told him that because it had happened in a State vehicle he needed a memo explaining what had happened.

He was feeling pretty bad and agreed quickly to write a memo about it.

Then he was called into the Director's office.

He began to understand what was happening at this point and after the Director mentioned it, said that I had been speaking badly about the Director so he slammed my finger in the door.  He said I'd deserved it.

And the Director actually believed him for a split second.

My co-worker said he knew where this was coming from and not to worry, I still had nine fingers left that he could go after.

When I arrived at the office he smiled at me and said he knew someone and had access to cadaver parts.  

Don't be surprised if I find extra fingers lying around.

The moral of this story is: it may be fun to prank a prankster but be warned, it only fuels them.

The rest of my birthday was fun.

Aside from the creepy gas station clerk who called me Padawan (is it bad that I know that's from Star Wars?) and then sang the afro circus song to me while dancing.  

I just wanted to pay for my drink.

And he was egged on by my co-workers who told him while doing this that it was my birthday.

Thanks again for that guys.

Thanks to everyone who drove my house honking.

And thanks to our family who showed up for dinner.

 

P.S.  It's not Padawan, thank you very much.

Professor Trelawney is in the house.

P.P.S.  Thank you to my husband who knew that the funny party dress ups would be hilarious.

He gives the best presents.

"The Car Crash" and walking away from it

"Do the best you can through these years, but whatever else you do, cherish that role that is so uniquely yours and for which heaven itself sends angels to watch over you and your little ones. Mothers, we acknowledge and esteem your faith in every footstep. Please know that it is worth it then, now, and forever."

-Jeffrey R. Holland
(read it in full here)

I read that quote on nienie dialogues a few days ago and it brought to mind a time in my life when things got scary.  And we should have been seriously hurt.
And we weren't.

I told you today that I would tell you a grand story.  I remembered to grab the CD of pictures that my Brent-dad took and gave to me.

It's been what... 6 years since I've looked at these pictures?

I'm feeling a little tender and raw after looking at them.

One summer morning my brother, Bill, and his wife, Jessica, and their two small children came to visit us while we were living in Vernal, Utah.
We didn't get to see much of them so I was happy to have them there.
My ex husband, who at the time of this story was still my husband, without the ex on it, had gone to work before daylight.
The rest of us woke up at a fairly early time, but not too bad.
Jessica and I decided we needed donuts for breakfast.
So I got dressed, a fact I would come to be grateful for and loathe all at the same time in a mere ten minutes time, and we gathered up all of our kids.  Bill opted to stay at the house and wait for us.
We had 6 kids under the age of 6 years between the two of us.  I happened to drive a suburban so we had enough seat belts for the brood, but we ended up giving Cali's car seat (she was barely two years old I think) to her cousin Brenna who was younger than she was.  We put Cali in the middle seat of the third row with a regular seat belt.

We strapped Sam in his infant carrier down and all the other girls buckled up.

We headed off.

It was a typical Vernal morning.  A steady flow of traffic was on the highway that lead through the middle of town, in one end and out the other. I lived on the outskirts of town and the bakery in the grocery store that we were headed to was on the other side of town so we got on that highway and headed in.

Have you ever seen Vernal's main intersection?  Where Highway 40 intersects with Vernal Ave?  Where all the banks and cute shops and a few restaurants are nestled?

{pic source}

If you look you can see two lanes of travel for both directions, plus a turning lane in the middle.  At the time of morning we were driving, the curbs on both sides were filled completely with parked cars.

Right as we passed Vernal Ave into this section of road I noticed a white Chevy Avalanche pick up truck  driving towards us in the opposite lanes.  We were both in the lanes of traffic next to the turning lane. 

I don't know why I took notice of this truck.  There was just... something.  As I looked at this pick up again I noticed it started to slide into the turn lane, but I realized it was more of a drift than an actual moving over and the thought struck me, "he's going to come into my lane."  And then I thought of Cali who was only in a seat belt and not in a car seat.  It only took a second for these thoughts to process and in that second I knew I was right.  I had no time to warn my family. 

Time seemed to be going so slow.  Each second was very clear and very precise.  I knew I had a car in the lane next to me, and I had cars behind me.  There was no where for me to go.

I remembered learning in driver's ed that people get seriously hurt in car accidents when they tense up, so as the truck entered my lane, I let go of the steering wheel to keep from bracing against it, in hopes that I wouldn't be seriously hurt.

Some of the details have become muted over the years, but I still remember with such clarity that moment of impact.
I once saw an accident happen, and it happened in a flash.
And yet, when I was in this one, I remember ever movement in that flash.

I remember the airbag going off in front of me, and then the car tipped up and I was looking at the sky and the windshield cracked all over. 

But then the next thing I new the suburban was back on all four tires and I was looking at my crumbled hood, and the white pick up beyond that.

My throat, nose, and eyes were burning from the smoke and chemicals from the deploy of the airbag.

And for a split second everything was dead silent.

But then I heard hissing.  And crying.

I called 911 and was told that there were other accidents that morning and someone would get to us as quickly as they could.  I told them we had kids.  It really didn't take that long for them to come.  Maybe 5 minutes was all.  I looked into the back of my car at the crying kids and couldn't see Cali. 

Cali!

"Where's Cali?"
They all just cried and looked at me.
So I yelled with stress and fear, "Where's Cali?!"

"She's right here, Mom.  She's on the floor."

I might have started crying then.

I tried to get of the car but my door wouldn't open.  Jessica couldn't get out of hers either.
I determined that I need to crawl into the back with the kids and try those doors, but as I began to pull myself out from underneath the steering wheel, a man opened the back door and started pulling my children out.

Casidee kept yelling, "is this real?  Is this real Mom?"
"Yes Cas, this is real."

I called to Cali to come to me and she did.
She was bleeding on her face but seemed to be calm.  Or in shock.
I found as I climbed out of the car that people who were working in the banks and the shops there on that little stretch of road had come out and were on the road taking my children. 
Speaking soothingly to them, hugging them, leading them to the sidewalk where they sat and held them in their laps.
And all I could think was the poor man who had opened the door for us was holding Cali, and he was going to get blood on his nice shirt.

I called my ex husband and told him we'd been in an accident and I scared him.  Apparently I was rambling like a lunatic and I kept repeating myself. 

The paramedics showed up and started assessing us.  They put Cali in a car seat from the ambulance and put me on a stretcher, but kept Cali close to me and we held hands, though I couldn't see her because she was sitting at the top of my head.

At this point I was glad I was dressed, for all of the people.  But when the paramedic asked me if my jeans were my favorite?  Because he was going to have to cut them.  They were.  He did, he slit them clear up to my thigh.  He needed to see my legs, and if there was any damage there.  I wasn't so happy with the thought that I had put them on after that.

I realized that my children were hurt and scared and I wasn't going to be able to be there for them because I was hurt myself.
I handed my phone to one of the medics and begged him to call my neighbor for me.  To tell her we needed people who the kids knew to come to the hospital and be with them so they wouldn't feel alone and scared.

I watched them put Cas on a stretcher and I bawled.  She was just too little to be on that big stretcher.

Things did calm down after that.  They allowed me to have most of my children in the same ER room with me.  Wonderful friendly neighbors showed up to follow the girls to various x-ray rooms so they wouldn't be alone.  They held their hands and spoke sweetly to them.

Turns out the worst injured was Cali.  She needed stitches in her lip and thigh, and had broken her right arm, right under the shoulder.
And that was as bad as the injuries got.

They admitted Cali and Casidee into the hospital to watch them.  Casidee kept complaining of stomach pains and they wanted to watch for internal injuries, but in reality I think she just had nerves.

More neighbors and friends came to the hospital and brought toys and food and flowers.
One sweet lady brought us the donuts that we never ended up getting.

And the bishopric gave me a blessing.  This is where the quote comes in .
I don't remember all of the blessing, but I remember that he said, "you were not alone today.  Angels were with you."

And I believe it 100%.  The doctors and paramedics were amazed.  They kept saying it was a miracle that no one else was hurt from the crash.  They couldn't believe that we were all walking away from it.

I was told that the engine block should have ended up in my lap.
But it didn't.
It stopped just before it would have.

Luckily we didn't have to stay over night at the hospital.  We left really late, but the doctor's felt the girls just needed to be home.

So I love that quote from Elder Holland.
So much that I'm going to put it here again.

"Do the best you can through these years, but whatever else you do, cherish that role that is so uniquely yours and for which heaven itself sends angels to watch over you and your little ones. Mothers, we acknowledge and esteem your faith in every footstep. Please know that it is worth it then, now, and forever."
We ended up on the front page of the local newspaper.  We did, after all, close down Vernal's main intersection for a morning.
When I saw the picture on the front, with the suburban wrecked in the background, and myself there on a stretcher with my children around me...
it made me nauseous.
So I bought a copy.  I still have it.

And I will never forget how the Lord was there with us that day.

I believe in guardian angels.

tay's career choice

We're making progress with Tayler's career goal of wanting to be a cashier at Walmart (read that discussion here). 
It started on Wednesday when I was minding my own business, not doing anything to anybody, just getting ready for work when WHAM.  I had been leaning forward putting eye liner on, I stood up straight, blinked, and suddenly had the horrible sensation that there was a razor in my eye.  I couldn't even open my eyelid to see what was in it.  Every time I tried to raise my eyelid, or shift my eye in any way, I felt that razor press into the bottom of my eye.

I'm so stoic when I'm hurt.  So solid and strong... until one of two things happens.  I talk to my mom, or I talk to my husband. 

And then I'm just pathetic and crying. 

I couldn't open my eyes to drive.  Opening and using my good eye caused shifting in my under attack eye. So I called West, who was conveniently working an hour away.  No big, right?  Come and get me!

And he did.  Without hesitation. 

My hero.

I called work and told them I'd be in as soon as I could, and of course was met with, "don't worry about it.  We'll even just see you tomorrow.  Take the day."

To make a long story not so long, The Man took me to Urgent Care where my eye was
1. numbed so I could open it
2. dyed yellow so they could see any scratches.  They found one.  And that yellow dye must have traveled through my sinuses because it came out of my nose about an hour later.
3. shined painfully bright lights into my eyes that very literally blinded me while I strained to keep my lids open through it and
4. found nothing there but the scratch.

So I asked, where exactly is the scratch?  It's a linear scratch (going from top to bottom) on the side.  Nope, not what I'm looking for.  Back before my eye was all warm and fuzzy and happy, the pain was very much in the bottom and not down the side.

So he looked again, and there it was, microscopic and sitting peacefully inside my bottom eyelid. 

What does this have to do with Tayler's 8 year old choice for a career path you ask?

The Circus was still home as I was lying on my bed, trying not to move my eyes, and waiting for The Man.  They knew I was in pain and headed to the doctor.  They loved on me and headed out to school.

After school we were sitting on my bed and they were asking about my eye and making comments about how great it was that my work was so nice as to let me go to the doctor.  At this point I tell Tay that if she never figures out what she wants to be then she should just work for the government because it's a pretty good place to land.  To which she proudly (and quite robustly I might add) declares,

"I'm going to be a government worker!"

Come on now, it's a better goal than cashiering at Walmart.

{source:toothpastefordinner.com}

Truth be told, it doesn't really matter what the circus ends up doing in life. As long as they're taking care of themselves and their family, and being honest, good, contributing citizens in society, I'm going to be proud of them.

Whatever you do kids, just stay out of jail.

For the thought of the day I'm going to link you to this post over at Nat the Fat Rat.  It's a post she did about dealing with infertility, and I obviously don't have that trial in life, but what I really liked was what she wrote at the end, about how she learned from her struggles.  These two paragraphs in particular:

"The thing is, I've talked with Him, pleaded with Him, listened for Him for far too long to really think I was a just passive participant faithfully awaiting my time. Those long months when I poured my soul out in prayer, the Lord whispered to me that it was in my hands, that with faith and obedience He would lead me to my baby, but that I would have to do the work. It was such a teeny tiny small thing, how could I have found that on my own? We figured it out together. That was my path to this baby. I believe the Lord wanted me know that I had power with Him, that He heard my prayers. In my obedience I learned I can ask and receive, and that together we can make wonderful things happen. Alone I will be left to struggle. Perhaps I needed to learn this now in order to properly mother this person that I am growing? I am so very much closer to my Heavenly Father as a result of these years of endless fasting and prayer. I think He had that in mind for me, too.

"What I take from Genesis, and what I take from my own experience, is thus: If you work with God, God will work with you. It is like a delicious cheat sheet. We can be co-creators with our God. We can create our lives with Him, if we let Him show us the path he means for us to blaze. All we have to do is ask. "

Our murder scene

It was a dark and stormy night. It was West, in the garage, with a hammer. OK, it wasn't really a dark and stormy night, but it WAS West, in the garage, with a hammer. He was working on his 4-wheeler when he smashed his thumb between a hammer and a wrench, slicing it on both sides (top and bottom). He was wearing gloves and didn't realize how badly he had cut it until he realized his glove was full of blood. I was in the kitchen when he came in from the garage, blood literally flowing off his hand. By the time we found a paper towel for him (of course the roll would be out at this critical moment) our kitchen and bathroom looked like a small murder scene. Blood on the bathroom door and walls, and small puddles all across the kitchen floor. I wiped up blood while West pulled himself together and we headed to urgent care for x-rays (they insisted since it was a "crush" injury, nothing broken thankfully) and stitches. They wrapped it up good and thick, being as it was on his knuckle, they didn't want him to be able to bend it. We went to Walgreens for his antibiotics, to avoid infection, when I told him to give me a thumbs up (which he has no choice about with the wrapping lol), what a good sport he is :).