This entry was requested by my husband.  He told me it was the best day of my life.  He might be right.

October 7, 2001

Conference was good again today.  Is it ever not good?  I doubt it.  America attacked Afghanistan today.  It’s scarry.  Pres. Hinckley’s talk made me nervous.  He was just saying that there are hard times ahead and we need to prepare.  I was planning on spending some time writing and studying today but we spent too much time visiting people.  We went and met our neighbors that live across the street.  They’re really cool.  They’re all pretty cute too.  I hope we become friends with them.  They did invite us to their BBQ on Thursday so that should be fun.  Life is good right now.  Conference always gives you this renewed hope and motivation to do better.  I always hate it when it’s over thought.  To bad we can’t have it once a month or something.  But then I’d take it for granted.

My husband was one of the neighbors that lived across the street.  My roommates and his roommates all became really good friends.  Their apartment was our second home.

If you’re wondering what Conference is go here.

I brought my boys to the library today.  All 3 of them.  If you don’t have children you might think that a trip to the library would be a fun, relaxing experience.  That is far from the truth.  My trip to the library consisted of a 1 year old who didn’t want to be put in the stroller but also didn’t want to be held.  What did he want to be doing?  Pulling every book that he could get his hands on off of the shelf and throwing it on the floor.  If I tried to pick him up he was diving out of my arms before I got him to my hip.

It also consisted of a 4 year old who can’t read wanting to bring home every Star Wars book imaginable.  I refused.  I won’t read him chapter Star Wars books.  Not yet.  Maybe not ever.

Don’t forget about the 7 year old who wanted to push the empty stroller around.  7 years olds aren’t really good at paying attention to what they’re pushing the stroller into.

Then there was the time that I was talking to the librarian to renew my card, trying to retrieve my card from my bag which was in the stroller.  The same stroller that was now being pushed by both a 7 year old and a 4 year old.  Pushed around and around and around the line dividers.  Bending over to retrieve said library card while holding a wiggly 1 year old.

After I retrieved the card they “parked” the stroller.  Apparently parking the stroller means putting the brakes on which I didn’t realize until I tried to push it away when I was done and ended up running right into it.  Then I hurt my toe by trying to undo the brake with my foot while wearing flip flops.

And now you know why I rarely visit the library.

(Reaching for me, or maybe a fruit snack, I can’t remember for sure.)

Baby Boy is a mama’s boy.   If he can see me he rarely wants to be with anyone else.  I’m the one he wants when he gets hurt or is tired.  I’m the one who has to follow him as he climbs the stairs, making sure he doesn’t fall.  I’m the one who spends all day holding him or with him holding on to my leg begging for me to pick him up.

At his recent 1st birthday party, when our home was filled with family who wanted to hold him and play with him, I’m the only one he would be with.  If I wasn’t holding him he was crying.  I had to hold him while we sang Happy Birthday to him.  I had to hold him as the candles were blown out and he curiously poked at his cake.

I was frustrated.  I was hosting dinner and a party for about 20 people.  I wanted both hands to be able to do it.

Then today I left for a while and baby boy was home with just his dad.  They spent the time playing together, just the two of them.  They played with blocks and crawled around the room.  Since I returned Baby Boy seems to have warmed up to Dad a little.  He smiles at him more often and likes him a little bit more.

I’m realizing now what a joy it is to be his favorite, to be the one he wants.  To have this time when he prefers me.  I know it won’t last.  I feel like it has started slipping away already.  He has started to discover Dad.  Now that he is getting old enough to play, Dad is much more fun than Mom.  He rough houses and plays in ways that Mom doesn’t, ways that little boys love.

So now I’m going to relish the times he is in my arms.  The times he wants me and no one else.  I’m going to treat every time like it’s the last time because now I know that it just might be.

(Big boy Jan. 05)

Today as I was folding laundry Baby boy kept himself occupied by pulling all of the clean clothes out of the laundry basket and throwing them on the floor.  The moment made me remember a time when Big Boy was close to the same age.  I was folding laundry and he was doing the exact same thing, throwing clean clothes all over the floor.  Only when Big Boy did it all those years ago, I stopped and took a picture.  Then I posted the picture online for my family to see.  It was so cute that he was “helping” me do laundry.

It’s interesting how our reactions to the same situation can vary so much.  Today as I was in pretty much the exact same situation, I didn’t even think to get my camera.  I was just glad that Baby Boy was occupied so that I could actually get the laundry folded.  I’m sure back when Big Boy was playing in the clean clothes I had plenty of time to get the laundry folded and put away.  It didn’t matter if I took a few minutes to snap a picture.  These days that isn’t the case.  It’s not unusual for clean laundry to sit in a basket for days waiting to be folded.  Honestly, most of it probably doesn’t get folded at all because it get worn again before it makes it into the drawer.

Lack of time isn’t the only thing that affects my reactions now.  Your perspective changes from your 1st child to your 3rd.  With your first everything is so new and exciting.  You can’t believe how cute and smart they are.  The more kids you have the more things just become normal things all kids do.  Of course you love your 3rd child just as much as your 1st but you certainly see things differently.  And your 3rd child playing with laundry is certainly nothing to write home about.

I ran my first 10k today.

I’ve run many 5k’s but have never had the courage to do longer distances.   I was nervous.  I hadn’t trained.  As a matter of fact I haven’t run more than two miles in months.

I have a fear every race I do that I will be the last one.  I think it’s my main motivation to push myself.  It happens to someone in every race.  It happened to my mom once.  There she was plugging down the course with a truck right behind her picking up the cones.  She finished.  I’m not sure if I would have.

I was late.  When I finally got to the starting line, everyone was gone.  As I was walking up one of the race officials hollered “Last call for the 10k.”  I was the last person to start the race.

The 4th of July is a big deal around here.  There is a parade that people come from miles around to see.  They even camp out all night to save their place.  Part of the race course follows the parade route.  Here I was at the back of the pack running in front of thousands of people.  I just put my head down and ran.

I listened to my favorite motivational song (twice) and just kept going.

I didn’t finish last.  The good news about starting last is that you pass a lot more people than pass you.

I guess I’ll still have my last place fears to motivate me in the future and my last one starting experience to motivate me to get there on time.