This is a home! This is a place to live...Oohhh, a fireplace, are you kidding me!

We are moving.  I can't believe it.  We have been looking and praying for several months for an affordable home that has more room than the home we currently live in.  The Lord answered our prayer in a most unbelievable way.  Sometimes I still can't believe how it worked out.

We are doubling our home size and reducing our payment by quite a bit.  It's really amazing!

Our new home is about a mile away in Canton.  The elementary school and middle school are different so Calvin, Spencer and Cameron will be attending different schools in the fall.  Luckily all of them have friends in their grade at the new school.

Our new house has a really great size family room with a wood burning fireplace.  It has 4 bedrooms including a master bedroom with a walk in closet and attached bathroom.  We are finishing a bedroom in the basement for the boys.  They are going to have an awesome mancave!

The yard is 1/4 acre with forsythia, peonies, lilies, pretty trees, iris and a garden area.  It's perfect.

The rooms are painted great colors that I love.  The carpets are clean.  The windows, roof, furnace, a/c, driveway are all new.

It's really perfect.  Except for one thing.

We are getting it from a family that we know and really like.  They have to move away for an employment opportunity.  It makes me sad that they are leaving.  We got the keys from them this week and went over that afternoon to look around.  They left flowers and a gift for Teddy on the counter.  Very wonderful people that I will miss alot.

But I'm so happy to be moving.  I'm so excited!  Now to coordinate it with giving birth...

It's no contest. The guy had nothing! The ship went down, he got into a life boat, I mean, come on.

I'm having a baby in a few weeks. My due date is May 5. I've got 18 days until my due date to be exact. But my babies are usually late so I probably have more like 25 days. I'll be glad when this pregnancy is over. It's been a toughie. Emotionally lately I've been feeling like a wreck. My eyes are leaking all the time.

It's the same old thing. I miss my mom.

I miss her so much when I have a baby. A few months ago I took a meal to a friend who just had a baby. Her mom greeted me at the door. She whisked the meal to the table, got it all set out and had my dishes washed and returned to me before I was done snuggling my friend's new babe. I want that too. I want my mom to come here and stay a week or two and watch my kids so I can get extra sleep and drive the carpool so I don't have to worry about it and catch up the laundry and dishes and reorganize my cupboards and refold all my sheets. I want her to hold my babe and smile at me and tell me how he looks just like I did when I was a baby.

It's just not fair.

I feel like a selfish 13 year old girl when I say those words. It's just not fair.

NieNie never says it's not fair. People dying of cancer never say it's just not fair. People with infertility issues never say it's not fair. I have so much in life to be thankful for. And I am thankful for my blessings.

Why can't I just get over this?

I have a lot of faith. I really do. I believe with my whole heart that someday I am going to walk with God and He is going to show me the super important reason why I had to spend most of my mortality without a mother. And He is going to hug me and it's all going to be ok.

But it's not ok now. And now is what really matters to me now.

Mom Academy Awards

The 3rd Annual Mom Academy Awards were held last weekend and they were spectacular, as usual. The location, home of Sue Barfuss, was primo this year. It was lovely to have so many fun, talented, wonderful women together for an evening.

This year, we once again gave out the coveted "Spoony." 30 moms were awarded their Spoony in 30 unique categories. New this year, were tributes written by husbands and children, and read aloud to each mom. After all were read, few dry eyes were left in the room. It's nice to be appreciated by those we work so hard for day in and day out. I love the Mom Award's night. I'm so glad so many people were able to participate this year!

Here's a complete list of the winners:

Patti Banka: Most Well Read Mom

Sue Barfuss: Renaissance Mom (Cuz she's so good at everything)

Amy Benson: The Coolest Mom

Ramona Bertrand: Most Patient Mom

Penny Bitner: Best Hair and Makeup Mom

Yoshimi Burnside: World Traveler Mom

Buffie Christensen: Do it Yourself Mom

Rachel Clawson: Great Decorator Mom

Courtney Cope: Outdoorsy Mom

Stacie Dalebout: Mom who is always thinking of others

Angie Gardner: No Sleep Mom

Leah Goering: Savvy Shopper Mom

Kristie Hicks: Social Butterfly Mom

Senta Hill: Mom with the Best Sense of Humor

Serena Humes: Newest Mom

Kayla McEwen: Multilingual Mom

Nadine Medley: Most Supportive Mom

Valerie Mercado: Sporty Mom

Teresa Murphy: Most Organized Mom

Lisa Nielsen: Volunteer Mom

Mari Noble: Iron Chef Mom

Anna Onofrio: Best Blogger-Seamstress-Crafty Mom

Esther Rogers: Fashion Plate Mom

Teresa Strum: Miss Congeniality Mom

Cathy Sullivan: Scriptorian Mom

Bethany Swalberg: Mom always Serving others

Jennifer Vos: Taxi Mom

Tami Valgardson: Happiest Mom

Deanna Wilkerson: Most Experienced Mom

Becca Winder: Musical Mom

"Yeah. It's a beautiful name for a boy or a girl. Especially a girl... Or a boy."

I started working on Family History when I was 8 and received a Book of Remembrance at my baptism. I'm 37 now and not completely clear as to what the Book of Remembrance is for. I kept papers in it that were important to me. It came with some sheets to be filled out like the Family Tree and Personal History. The book is now in the garage in a box. I haven't really done a great job at remembering it. But I did enthusiastically fill out the Family Tree page when I was 8 with the help of my parents. I really found the whole thing very interesting who I descended from. My dad worked on family history quite a bit during my childhood and gave me a great head start when I was an adult.

I've worked on Family History as a semi-serious hobby since Emily was a baby. I love finding people in my family and making it possible for their temple work to be completed. Since marrying Chris, I have worked on his side of the family as well. I have long been interested in finding the Vos' that first came to America from Holland. I could never find them. There seemed to be no information on them out there that I was reaching. I kept them in the back of my mind, hoping that someday I would find them.

A few months ago, I was called as a Family History Consultant at our local Family History Center. Although I would give my right arm to serve in Primary, this is the next best thing. I go to the Family History Center for three kid-free hours a week and work on Family History. I'm supposed to help people who walk-in and need assistance. So far, I have helped a few people but I don't know as much as the "pros" that have been there for years and years. I'm sure I will learn more as time goes by and be a better aide to those who come in looking for help.

One night, one of the pros asked me if I wanted him to help me with one of my family road blocks. I showed him the info I had on John Vos born in the Netherlands in 1839. I had him on US Census' for various years in the United States. I knew he got here. But I didn't know when or how or with whom. I left the info I had with the pro, who's name is Al by the way, and headed home until next week.

The next week Al greeted me and let me know that he found lots of stuff for me. I was excited. He started to show me page after page of what was information on my John Vos and his ancestors. John came to the United States with his parents in 1855. He was 16. His parents were Dirk and Bonna Vos. They brought John and their seven other children with them on a ship. I was able to look at pictures of where they came from in Holland. I can only imagine what their accommodations were like on the ship and what it must have been like to travel across an ocean with all those children. As Al was showing me pages of information, I fell in love with this family. I feel like I know them somehow. And unless you've ever done family history and connected with someone from the past, you might not understand what I mean. Dirk and Bonna, I want to be your friends.

I sat there that night very choked up looking at the pages, entering information into the computer and finding more information because I was able to piggyback off what Al had started. I was so excited and enthralled with everything I found and learned. Those of you who work on family history know that other people are about as interested in hearing about it as you are about hearing about someone's daily work out at the gym. Their eyes glaze over and they give you a faint smile and nod occasionally. It's just not everyone's thing.

But I wanted what I found(or what was found for me) to be shared and remembered. All I could think of was to name our little Teddy's middle name Dirk. I kept thinking about Theodore Dirk and how we couldn't forget about Dirk and his family if one of our kids was named after him. So I went home and proposed the idea to Chris and he agreed and so there you go. No one else thinks it's a really great name. Some people laugh out loud when I tell them. But I don't really care. It's a middle name, which isn't used as often, and it means something to me. Hopefully someday it will mean something to Teddy too.

I seriously cannot wait to meet Dirk and Bonna in the afterlife and talk to them and find out all about their life in 1855.

My brother paid a dollar last night to see your underwear.

Sixteen years ago I gave birth to the most beautiful and wonderful little girl ever in the history of little baby girls.

I was a typical first time pregnant mom. I took my prenatal vitamin. I followed the doctor's instructions exactly. I took birthing classes. I drank cranberry juice every day in hopes to get a baby with hair. I bought the cutest, softest, sweetest baby clothes and washed them in Dreft. I sterilized EVERYTHING. I studied "What to Expect when You are Expecting." It was never far from me for 9 month. I researched everything baby using the library's copy of Consumer Reports. This was before the internet. I made sure we had the safest car seat, stroller, pack n play, bottles, binki's, swing... My bag was packed months before I was ever going to need it. I was determined to give our baby the best possible start in the world that I could.

I was in labor with her for about 12 hours. It was hard labor. I didn't get an epidural. I was determined not to because our birthing class teacher said it wasn't good for the baby. I'll never forget seeing that squirmy, bloody, gooey baby for the first time and hearing her cry and knowing she was mine forever. You mom's...you know.

And today she is 16.

Now I don't worry about her hair anymore. She does it beautifully. I don't pick out clothes for her anymore. In fact, I know that if I see something that I like, she will hate it. I don't need Dreft. She washes her own clothes. Instead of baby books, I read articles online by Denise Witmer at parentingteens.about.com. I no longer worry about her car seat and binki...I now worry about her driving a car, dating a boy, peer pressure and the "c" word. College.

To be honest, though, I don't worry that much. Emily has grown to be a very responsible, very careful, very wonderful young woman. I am really proud of her. She has done an incredible job building on that first foundation that Chris and I provided for her. And as she has grown, we have provided opportunities for her to develop her talents. I know that Chris and I have done our best to give her all the tools she will need to be successful in her life. We have continued to provide her with a good foundation. We have never stopped planning and providing and praying and working and cheering for her.

While my heart aches and my eyes grow wet with tears at the thought of her leaving home in just a few short years, I know she will be successful because of who she is and where she came from.

Emily, I couldn't be prouder of you and who you are. Happy Sweet 16!

I want my scholarship back, so I can be a city planner.

I have lots of thoughts that knock around in my head at 2AM and don't let me sleep. Most of them are stupid things I said and did in my younger years. Worrying about how my mouth may have offended others keeps me up at night often.

I went to elementary school at a Parochial school in Toledo. The tuition was more than my family could afford. My parents were not members of the parish and so the amount of tuition for us was higher than the average family. My mom worked at the school as a lunch aid to help with the costs until she was too sick to be able to do so. After that, I received a scholarship and financial aid to cover what it cost. If you go to Parochial elementary school in Toledo, the traditional next step is to choose one of the Parochial high schools. In 8th grade, all the girls go and visit the 2 all-girls schools and the two co-ed schools. I was smitten with St. Ursula Academy from the beginning. I wanted to go there so badly. I applied and took the entrance exam. I had it in my head that I was going there. My mom was the voice of reason. She knew we couldn't afford it. I can't remember what the tuition was in 1989. I looked online to see what the tuition is now and the official SUA website doesn't have it listed. So you know it has to be a lot. I found an independent website that listed the tuition in 2008 as $8800 a year. So in 1989 it was probably around $4000-5000. It was a scary amount of money for my family. I did well on the entrance exam and got some kind of scholarship but not enough to cover the whole amount. And the scholarship only lasted my freshman year. Every 8th grade applicant that is accepted is given an appointment to meet with the counselor to choose classes and pay the tuition. My appointment arrived in the mail with an * next to the tuition due amount and a note that said we would discuss it when we met with the counselor. My dad and I were hopeful that maybe I was getting more of a scholarship but my mom kept reminding us that we needed more than just "something" in order to be able to make it work. Me and Dad went to the meeting at St. Ursula and instead of meeting with a counselor, the principal met with us. She signed me up for all the classes I should take and then looked at me over her half glasses (no she was not Dumbledore) and said that my tuition had been paid for by someone else. The donor wished to remain anonymous. I could only communicate with him via letter. I cannot tell you how elated I was. Words cannot describe how I felt. Dad took me to the book store and bought me an SUA sweatshirt that I wore every moment of my life for the next year. I was an arrow! My life was complete.

I wrote letters to my anonymous benefactor telling him how I was doing and thanking him for his kindness and generosity. I continued to do this through my junior year. At the end of the that year, right before summer vacation, the principal came to me to tell me that the benefactor had decided not to continue my scholarship through my senior year. My heart fell into my toes. I cried right there in front of her. I knew we couldn't afford the tuition without the scholarship. My mom died during the summer between freshman and sophomore year and my dad was contemplating quitting his job and living off of his social security and disability. I had visions of me at Bowsher HS (no offense, Michelle) and I was just so sad. I was going to have to leave my friends and everything I had built at SUA. I was not a slouch of a student. I was freshman class president and had just been elected senior class president. I was involved in clubs of all kind from academic to service to fun. This was my life. I can just say that I was devastated.

The principal left me that day with the assurance that she was going to find a way to help me with this. A few days later she pulled me aside to tell me that the school would take care of my tuition. It was paid for and I didn't have to worry about it. I was grateful beyond words. I cried again and told her how much I appreciated what she was doing for me. I finished my senior year and graduated with high honors. I have continued to let that principal know over the years how much an SUA education has meant to me and has helped me in my life.

So what part of this story keeps me up at night? It's not who was the benefactor. I don't have to know that. The best kind of service and love is done in secret with no recognition in my opinion. The part that bothers me is what did I do to make the person not want to help me through my senior year? Did I say something offensive to him or his family? I totally could have because my mouth works way faster than my brain and often says the dumbest stuff imaginable. What did I do to upset this person to make him not want to help me? I'm not even sure that I really want to know because it would probably hurt my heart to know how I hurt someone else. But part of me wishes I knew. I have a feeling that this will be one of those experiences that will continue to nag at me at 2AM for the rest of my life.

Oh, also.. my fiance died from licking toxic envelopes that I picked out.

Emily and I were in the car this week and the song "A Little Respect" by Erasure came on the radio. I immediately started singing along with the song. Loudly. Emily was pretty annoyed. It's an awesome song. Hearing it took me back to my senior year of high school. I was obsessed with the album that it's on "The Innocents." I listened to it 24/7.

I proceeded to tell Emily about the time during senior year when my dad had to go into the hospital for some treatments for his MS and Anna and I lived with a family in our ward. I don't know how long we lived there. Seems like several weeks. They were a great family to stay with because they didn't have any kids at the time and they had a nice big house with an extra bedroom for us. Thinking back it was pretty incredible that they let us stay there. I was like the messiest person on the planet and they were the neatest. They let me spread my homework and shoes all over and never yelled at me. They let me cook fried chicken in their kitchen. Who knows what other crap they let me do. They had the missionaries over for dinner at my request. One of the missionaries was hot with a capital H and I had a huge tiny crush on him. The mom took me dress shopping for my school's winter formal. Now that I have been dress shopping with a teenager, I know it must have been torture for her.

The only drawback about their house was that it was in the middle of nowhere. It was out passed the Toledo Express Airport off of Airport Highway. The drive from their house to my house was about 12 miles and took 20-25 minutes. I had to go to early morning seminary which started at 6. So I got up around 4:45 to get ready and head out from Swanton back into Toledo. It was very scary for me. The house was very dark and I tried to be really quiet so that I wouldn't wake Anna or the family. No one got me up. No one made sure I was getting ready. I had to be responsible for myself. It scared me to drive by myself out in the middle of nowhere. I was sure I was going to get rammed from behind by a crazy band of marauders looking for Catholic school girls out on the road at the butt crack of dawn. In addition, the weeks we stayed there were the beginning of winter. I remember the swirling snow on the side road that led off of Airport Highway. It was terrifying. As I was telling Emily this story, I was thinking to myself, "What the heck? Why did I keep going to Seminary? Why didn't I take off a couple of weeks?

Three reasons popped into my head. First, our teacher was awesome. I loved going to seminary just to hear what she was going to teach. She was inspiring and I'm so glad I got to have a year of seminary with her and wish I could have had more. I remember so much about the lessons of the New Testament because of her preparation and dedication. Plus she made the BEST spice cake. She would bring a spice cake for everyone's birthday. Second, my best friend Stacy was in a different school from me and I wanted to see her everyday so the only way I could do that was in Seminary. Last, sometimes the awesome teacher invited the missionaries to come to seminary to scripture chase with us and I wouldn't have wanted to miss an opportunity to see the aforementioned hot missionary. Two of my reasons were pretty good.

So I went to Seminary every day even though it was freaking early and scary. I would drive, white-knuckled, down the road as fast as the snow would safely let me, trying to outrun the marauders, with "The Innocents" tape blasting in my dad's van's tape deck. All the songs on that album remind me of that time in my life going to seminary, going to school and doing schoolwork, trying to take care of Anna, visit my dad in the hospital, keep up with things at my empty home and have some kind of a social life. Sometimes I think about different periods like this from my childhood and I just cry because I wish I could have had a bit of a normal life just for a bit. I wonder what it would be like to have a mom to take care of me all the time and wake me up when I fall back asleep and drive me everywhere and hug and kiss me.

Maybe these stressful, crazy times prepared me for a time when I would have 7.5 kids with busy lives and a husband and a calling and volunteer positions and family to love and friends to be with and service to do. Maybe I can handle so much now because of what I went through then.

No one should go through hard times. No one should live in sorrow. Got to face the darker skies. Got to lift your head up high. Yahoo!