Family Reunion

It's that time of year again!  The Anderson Family Reunion is an indispensable part of summer, and we wouldn't think of missing it.  As usual, we set a time for when we would depart, and left about 4 hours after that.  Luckily we still got there in time for dinner, so it's all good.  Some years we get there after everyone has gone to bed, so we did pretty well this year.  One of the things we had to do before we left was go to the dentist for checkups, and I was really worried that it would take all day.  But we go to an awesome dentist, and they did all four kids at once, so we got out of there in no time! (I split my kids into two groups for checkups.  Seven checkups in one day is just too many.)

On the way to the reunion, I realized that I had forgotten my camera!  Grrrrr.....
So all I had was my phone, and I didn't use it much.  So apologies for the lack of pictures.  You'll just have to use your imagination.

One of the activities that Melica had planned was Zentangles.  It is really just organized doodling, but it's a lot of fun, and fairly addictive.  You start with a square piece of paper and draw a dot in each corner.  With those dots you create a frame for your Zentangle. Then you draw the "string," which is just a random line that wanders into each of the four quarters of your paper.  This has some zen significance, but I can't remember what it is.  Then you add what lines you'd like to break it up into sections, and fill in each section with a design.  It can be as elaborate or as simple as you would like.  Here are the Zentangles that I made and brought home.  They're kind of fun, huh?


There was a playground right by our campsite, a creek running past, and lots of cousins to play with, so the kids had lots to do and didn't really hang around me too much.  The only times I really saw Annie were when she needed to change her clothes again.  The poor girl is terrified of loud sounds, so any toilet that has a flush louder than a home toilet is not an option unless I'm there to flush it after she leaves.  I'm afraid this resulted in several accidents during the reunion.  That, combined with the creek, meant that she was wearing her pajamas on the way home because they were the only dry clothes she had left.

Cannon brought his stilts with him, and walked all over the campground.  He ran into a problem, though, when he tried to show off and made them so high that he couldn't get on them without a really high something to step off of.  All his cousins had fun trying them, and Cannon had fun being the best at it.

The very best part, though, was when the kids did their musical number.  We have the same number of kids as the VonTrapp family in the The Sound of Music, and they are even in the same order and everything!  So we have wanted to do this musical number for several years, but we have been waiting for Annie to be able to sing her part.  This year she is finally big enough, so we got it ready for the reunion.  The kids did an awesome job, and had so much fun.

Too Full to Hold

Ben was finally home for a day yesterday, and I begged him to take care of his clean laundry, which has been piling up in the laundry room.  He was having a little difficulty putting it away, and came up to the kitchen to tell me how he was sure he owned at least 50 t-shirts.  I believed him, because it seems like every time that boy leaves the house he comes home with a new shirt. Every activity these days has to have a shirt to go with it, and Ben attends them all.


Ben was back to the kitchen about 10 minutes later, looking a little sheepish.  He admitted to me that he had broken his t-shirt drawer.
"You broke your drawer?" I asked.
Turns out, he had done exactly that.  His drawer couldn't actually hold 50 t-shirts, but he had done his best to stuff them all in until it was literally full to bursting.  The poor guy was a little distressed, but I thought it was pretty funny.  We may need to come up with a different solution for his t-shirts - like a flat bed truck, maybe.

Children's Parade

It's a sad day when you have kids who are too old to ride in the Children's Parade.   There was a time when all of my kids were super excited about decorating their bikes and riding in the parade.  Alas, time passes, and my sweet little kids turn into big kids who think they're too old for Children's parades.
This year, Jennie, Lydia, and Annie were super excited about decorating bikes and getting ready for the parade, so they went out to the garage and started decorating.  I think Cannon was secretly excited, too, but didn't want anyone to know, so helped Annie decorate the wagon, and then volunteered to pull her in the parade.
Robyn, Ben, and Emily were just not interested and Robyn wasn't even going to come watch.  But they don't know how tricky their mother can be.  Bwah-ha-ha!

We got the girls all ready and started walking over to the tabernacle.  Lydia quickly found that her bike was way too slow to even keep up with us walking.  So I sent Ben back to the house for some rope, and talked him into pulling Lydia on her bike for the parade. 

We got to the Tabernacle and started the usual waiting for 30 minutes before the parade actually starts.  Cannon finally caught up with us, and Emily had walked over with us because she was going to watch the parade with me.  

At almost the last minute, Robyn came over to join us.  The parade was just about to start, and we were headed for the van to go find a place to watch.  Then I remembered that someone would need to hold the ward sign.  Our Primary President has been very sick recently (she's expecting twins, poor girl), and I went back to ask if she needed help.  Robyn and Emily followed me, and that's how they ended up holding the ward sign.  Hee hee.


The parade went very well, with no crashes or accidents between the Tabernacle and the City Park.  It wasn't even very hot, since it had been raining earlier in the day.  (And yes, I did walk out in the road and make my kids stop to take a picture during the parade.  That's Ben in the background.)

Of course the popsicles at the end are the best part, and the real reason that everyone does the Children's Parade.  (Except Robyn, who couldn't eat one because of all the sugar :(

And that is how I managed to get all of my kids into the Children's Parade this year.  See how tricky I am?  Now I just have to come up with a plan for next year....

On Pretending

So the other day I was talking to a lady, and ended up being accused of pretending to be someone's friend.  From the way she said it, I'm guessing she considered this a pretty heinous crime.  I wasn't really sure what she meant, so I may very well have been guilty.  But I have been thinking a lot about it.  What does it mean to pretend to be someone's friend?  And is it wrong?
How do you get to be someone's friend without being nice in the first place - before you're really friends?  Is that pretending to be someone's friend?  And what about visiting teaching?  I visit ladies every month that I'm not best friends with.  Am I just pretending to be their friend?  And what about the crazy lady who sits next to me in Relief Society and rants to me about her ex-husband clear through the lesson?  Am I pretending to be her friend as I nod politely?  Am I being unfair or dishonest?  What exactly does it mean to pretend to be someone's friend?  If I bring you a loaf of bread, but I'm not interested in becoming blood-brothers (sisters?), raising your children, and letting you run my life, does that mean I'm somehow being false?  Am I just pretending to be your friend?  Have I done something wrong?
I am not writing this post in self-defense. I'm really wondering: Am I guilty? I imagine most of you had this figured out in first grade, but I tend to be a little slow at real-life common sense. 
I can see that a blatant two-faced deception would be very hurtful.  If I lovingly listen to all your deepest secrets, then go blab them to someone else and complain about what a whiner you are, then that would be wrong.  But what if you corner me at church and spill your guts all over my best shirt, even though I was just trying to slip past you to the drinking fountain?  If I avoid you next week, does that mean that I was just pretending to be your friend? 
And how does one pretend to be a friend, anyway?  Being a friend is helping, sharing, talking, caring, and laughing together.  How do you pretend to do all that without actually doing it? 
I admit, I've done all that and then finally gotten tired of the person and decided that I didn't want to do all that anymore. End of friendship.  But does that mean that we never really were friends?  Was I just pretending to be her friend?  Was I not a real friend if I wasn't willing to commit to a lifetime? Was I just pretending?
I haven't figured out all of these answers yet, but I have decided that the root of the problem is deception.  People don't like to be deceived.  They like to think that you're being upfront and honest with them all the time.  Unfortunately, it's very difficult to be both honest and polite at all times.  So what to do?  Will people be more offended by my lack of tact, or by my lack of honesty?  Do you really want to know that I don't like you?  If I'm polite to you, will you think we're friends, and then be hurt when you find out later that I couldn't stand you?  Would it be better not to be polite to people who annoy me?
So the way I see it, there's only two options, here.  At least, only two options if you're looking to be honest in your relationships.  You can either be a jerk and tell everyone exactly how much they annoy you all the time, or you can learn to honestly love everyone.  (Or at least like them.  Let's go with baby steps, here.) 
In Relief Society a couple of weeks ago, they passed out bracelets that had a C, a G, and another C on them.  The letters stood for Criticize, Gossip, and Complain, and they were supposed to remind us not to do those things.  (My bracelet was missing the second C, so I figure I'm free to complain all I want. :)  Yes!)  As I wore my bracelet, I started to notice how closely the three sins were tied together.  If I say "Lucy is so annoying,"  is that criticism, gossip, or complaining?  How do I criticize without gossiping or complaining?  How do I complain without criticizing or gossiping? I guess I could do it to Lucy's face, and then that wouldn't be gossiping.  But it would still be criticizing and complaining.
I started to realize how much of all three I tend to do in a day, and I also realized how difficult it was not to voice all the rude thoughts that popped into my head.  Even when I said, "thank you for signalling, sir," to a car which did not signal, my kids still said that was criticizing.  Sheesh!  I've had to almost give up talking altogether.
Which brings us back around to the same point.  How to be honest and nice at the same time - all the time?  I have never wanted to be a really nice person.  I know, that's a crazy thing to say, but in my experience, nice people get treated very badly.  They are used and abused and walked over all the time, and I just never wanted to be one of those people.  But I may have to change my tune.  I'm learning how very important it is to be genuinely nice, and how hard it is to be honest and polite when you're only nice sometimes or not at all. Of course, it's not hard to do with people that you like, or people that you get along well with.  But even those people are hard to deal with sometimes.  Even the nicest people have their annoying quirks.
So the only real solution is to learn to like people.  The only way to really stop making critical comments is to stop thinking them. The only way to stop complaining is to learn to appreciate.  The only way to avoid only pretending to be a friend is to always be a real friend.
Easy? No.  And as soon as I started trying, it got harder.  People have been even more annoying, they've done more stupid things, and made even more irritating remarks. And I'm pretty sure it's not just my imagination.  I'm pretty sure I'm not just noticing them more.  I am sure that any resolve must be tested.  And boy is mine being tested.  (Not that I'm complaining of course. ;)

Food Storage, Hairstyles, and a Bread Recipe

I don't know how it is at your house, but at my house the food storage has always been off limits.  I was very proud of all those #10 cans, and it was clearly understood by everyone that they were not to be touched until the day when we had nothing else to eat.  Soon after we were married (15.5 years ago), Jef and I made an attempt to get some food storage for our new family.  We didn't make much headway, but we did acquire a few cans of food.  It was a comfort to know we had them, and they have been sitting on a shelf ever since.  But for some reason a couple of months ago, I opened a couple of them.  I opened one can of white flour, and one can of wheat.  Who knew that I was actually opening a whole new phase in my cooking?

First of all, the white flour was disgusting.  It was seriously awful.  It just tasted and smelled stale, and it passed on that stale taste everywhere it went. I did manage to make it through the whole can, but it certainly opened my eyes to the state of my food storage.  The can of wheat was better.  It didn't taste or smell stale, but it had definitely lost something during those years of sitting, because there was just no way on earth to make my bread rise when I used that wheat.  (And I'm pretty sure I did try everything on earth.)

So it was clearly time to do something different.  I decided I needed to start making more of my own bread.  I had started making our bread a while before this, but I had been using half white flour and half whole wheat.  But if we're living on our food storage, then white flour is going to become very precious very quickly.  And whole wheat flour is better for you, anyway, right?  So I went in search of a bread recipe that used all whole wheat flour.

I had been using this recipe off of Nicole's food blog, and it was fabulous.  Everyone loved this bread, but it did call for half white flour.  It seemed fairly simple to me to just substitute the white flour for wheat and proceed as normal.  Wrong.  Turns out that leaving out all the white flour results in bread that just doesn't rise very well.  (Even when you're using fresh wheat.)  So we ate some very short, dense loaves of bread for a few weeks until I got sick of it and went looking for a new recipe.

I soon found that the term "Whole Wheat Bread" can mean anything from half wheat/half white flour to adding just one cup of wheat flour.  Rarely does "Whole Wheat Bread" mean that there is no white flour involved.  Who knew?  But I finally found a 100%-whole-wheat recipe that claimed to rise beautifully.  And it did!  It just didn't taste very good, is all.  Sigh.


So here's the part where hairstyles comes in.  (You were wondering, weren't you.)  My theory on recipes is that they're a lot like hairstyles.  Several times my ward Relief Society has passed out a recipe which people were supposed to make and bring to a dinner.  Funny thing is, when we got to the dinner, every dish was different!  And I know that every woman there was thinking, "What is wrong with these people?  Can't they follow a recipe?"  And every woman who made that recipe thought that she was doing exactly what the recipe said.

But recipes are like hairstyles.  Even if you cut your hair exactly like someone else's, it's still going to look different - because it's on you!  No one else's hair does just what yours does.  That lady over there doesn't have your cowlicks, or your wavy parts, or your straight parts.  Her hair is thinner or thicker or finer or coarser than yours.  And even if somehow her hair was exactly the same as yours, she still blow dries it in a different pattern around her head, or holds her curling iron differently, and after all that she has different cheekbones and a different jaw line and different eyes, and it just doesn't look the same.

And that's how it is with recipes.  Probably without realizing it, you have developed your own style of cooking.  You like to add the ingredients in a certain order, and you like to use certain spoons for certain things.  You've decided it's important scrape off every cup of flour, or you've decided that just shaking it til it looks even across the top is good enough.  You diligently measure out every teaspoon of vanilla, or you've given up and just give a good "bloop" for every teaspoon. However you run your kitchen, you've got your own way of doing things, and that will be reflected in the end product, no matter how closely you think you're following the recipe.

My mom made wonderful bread when I was growing up, and it always (that I can remember, anyway), turned out perfectly and was super yummy.  But shortly after I got married I tried to make her bread, and it just wasn't as good.  I always ended up with big holes in my loaves, and the bread didn't have good "crumb."  It just fell apart, and I couldn't even butter a slice without getting a lap full of crumbs. Not that it was dry, it just needed to be a little more dense than it was, and I couldn't figure out how to fix it.  Thus ended my bread-making for many years.  That bread recipe matched my mom's cooking style perfectly, but not mine.  A lady told me a story once about a peanut salad that her mother-in-law made, but which she could never get right.  She even had her mother-in-law stand in her kitchen one time to tell her every step, and it still didn't taste the same.

So I needed to take the best from these two bread recipes and make a recipe that would work for me.  It took several attempts, but I have now settled on the final version.  So part of the reason for the way-too-long preface is that I don't want you to feel bad if this recipe doesn't work for you.  You're different!  And since this recipe is the result of many experiments, it's ok for you to experiment with it as well.  Just because this hairstyle/recipe works great for me, it doesn't mean it won't need some tweaking before it will work for you.  So here you go.

My Version of

100% Whole Wheat Bread

that Tastes Yummy and

Actually Rises

Makes 4 loaves

Ingredients:

13 cups whole wheat flour, divided

1 cup seeds or nuts (optional) (ie flax, sesame, sunflower, whatever.  I like to grind up 7-grain cereal.)

4 1/2 tsp yeast

1 cup mashed potatoes

6 Tbs applesauce (or oil, cooked mashed beans, or cooled melted butter)

1 cup warm milk*

3 eggs

1 cup sugar

5 tsp salt
1/2 cup vital wheat gluten (this will really help your bread to rise, but if you don't have any, then make the bread anyway.)

water (see below for amounts)

Directions:

1. Soak for at least 30 minutes:

     6 cups flour

     5 cups warm water

     1 cup seeds (optional)

     Cover with a damp tea towel

Flour/water mixture shouldn't be too watery. Water should just mix into the flour without any excess.  Make sure there is no dry flour.  Add by the Tbs if more water is needed.  (I've never needed more water.)

2. Start sponge (15 to 20 minutes before starting)

     In 1/2 cup warm water, gently combine 4 1/2 tsp yeast and 1 Tbs sugar until just mixed.

    Set aside.

 Sponge should be visibly active - bubbles forming, etc. (much more than I was used to) - before adding to the recipe.

3.  After flour is soaked and sponge is bubbly, combine in mixer bowl and mix well:

     Sponge                                           3 eggs

     1 cup mashed potatoes                    1 cup sugar

     6 Tbs applesauce (or substitute)       5 tsp salt

     1 cup warm milk*                            wet flour & seed mixture
     1/2 cup vital wheat gluten

  

     * If you didn't add the seeds or nuts, use 1 Tbs dry powdered milk, instead.  

               You don't need the extra liquid.

4. Mix/knead in 6 - 7 cups more flour to the right consistency. Dough should feel pliable and not dry.

5. Knead for 15 minutes. (Yes, you can use your mixer, but take it out and knead it for the last 5      
 minutes by hand.)  Sprinkle counter with small amount of flour as needed to prevent sticking.

6. Place dough in large, greased bowl. Cover with a damp tea towel. Place in warm (not hot!) place and allow to rise until double. (About 1 hour.)

7. Remove from bowl, punch down, and knead by hand for 2 minutes. Divide into 4 equal parts.

8. Knead each individual loaf for 1 minute and form into a loaf. (One recipe suggested rolling it with a rolling pin, then roll up the dough and pinch the ends.)  Place in greased loaf pan.  Repeat for all 4 loaves.  Cover with a damp tea towel. 

9.  Allow to rise until double; about an hour.

10. Bake at 350 degrees for about 35 minutes.  (Bread is not like cake.  It's better to bake it as long as the recipe says and bake it less next time if necessary.)

11. Remove pans from oven and immediately remove loaves from pans.  Place on a wire rack and brush the tops with butter.  Let cool completely before placing in plastic bags. 

In keeping with the food storage theme, I make my mashed potatoes with potato pearls, use powdered eggs and powdered milk, and the applesauce I bottled last fall. And since I have a bunch of buttermilk sitting around from making my own butter, I use some of that for soaking my flour at the beginning. I've also been using 4 Tbs dough enhancer which was left over from trying everything on earth. 

I realize this may be a pain to print, so if you'll send an email to stefanie at skaterace dot com, I'll send you a Word version.

Good luck!

On Losing, Adding, and Resolutions

So, how are your resolutions coming?  It's been a couple weeks since New Years - do you even remember them?  I recently read an article that said weight loss was the number one New Year's resolution.  I know that having just had a baby, that was my big resolution for 2012.  And guess what?  I did it!  Well, ok, I didn't quite make my original goal, which was to lose 40 pounds, but I lost 30, and I'm pretty happy with where I'm at.  I'm thinking that last ten pounds would require more sacrifice than I'm willing to make, and I don't think I realized when I made the goal what a huge difference 30 pounds would make.  So I'm good.

In looking back at the year, however, I have found that keeping that resolution to lose weight didn't quite bring the sense of fulfillment I had hoped it might.  I'm sharing this just because I haven't heard anyone else say it yet. There are so many people out there who really want to lose weight, and since I was one of them, I know exactly how they feel.  But let me tell you what it's like on this side of the fence.  It's not that much different.  Yes, I'm smaller.  My pants are several sizes smaller, and my limbs seem to have shrunk?  I don't know how losing weight makes your arms and legs shorter, but it sure seems that way.  So, I'm smaller and.....  and that's about it.  I haven't noticed all that extra energy I'm supposed to have. I'm not happier or richer or even necessarily more attractive.  I still have the same crazy hair that drives me nuts.  I still have those weird spots on my face that arrived during my sixth pregnancy and never left.  I still have stretch marks covering what feels like a full third of my body.  I still have all those old shortcomings and weaknesses, and it definitely didn't make be a better parent.  As a person I really didn't move forward when I left the weight behind. 

Yes, it is fun and exciting to see the numbers on the scale slide downward.  Yes, it's fun to try on a pair of jeans in a smaller size and find that they do fit.  Yes, it does feel good when someone notices and tells me how good I look, but the boost in self-confidence is fairly temporary - sort of like a new haircut.  Once the new size becomes the new normal, it's just the same old me again. (While it is true that a more drastic weight-loss experience may produce more drastic results, neither of my two readers are obese, so it doesn't apply, and my own experiences are the only ones I can really share, anyway.)

I'm not saying that you should abandon your weight-loss goals.  I don't think you should, and I don't think you would even if I told you to, but what I am saying is that while you're losing weight, you should also be adding to yourself.  In making your goals for the year, be sure to include something that will make you a better person.  Improve your talents, learn to do something new, become more Christlike, create something, give more service, do something you've always wanted to do - so that when your body is as skinny as you hoped it would be, there's also a better person inside of it.  Because who wants to be a mean, ornery, skinny person? And when you reach New Year's Eve 2013, you can feel good both inside and out.

Reminiscing

Have you visited this post lately?  Hilarious!  For some reason I was reminiscing this morning, and went back to find it.  And yup, it's still funny.

Gardening

I know, I know, I know.  I haven't posted in forever, and so I really ought to be posting something about my family, my baby that's 9 months old already, or some of the events that have transpired in the last months.  But all of that sounds like a lot of work.  Plus, we've had some computer issues that make me unable to post pictures.  And how can I post about my kids without including pictures?  So, instead of news on the family, you get some random thoughts. :)

I've gotten suddenly excited about gardening.  This spring I really didn't care about the flower bed, and never did anything with it.  But now that it's the middle of September, I'm all ready to go.  I've bought some perennials and I'm working on cleaning the grass out of the flower bed so I can plant them.  I also have plans for the garden.  I'm going to plant my seeds this fall so that the plants can start growing whenever they feel like in the spring.  I"m not going to plant them in rows, either.  I'm just going to toss them out there and they can grow wherever they choose.  Jef thinks I'm crazy.  But it can't really be any worse than this year's garden, which was planted on schedule in the spring in neat rows, but which seeds either never grew at all or died soon after emerging.  We did get a few tomatoes and some zucchini, but that's about it.  So, really, how much worse can it get by letting the plants choose their own spot and growing time?  Sounds like fun to me.

Rock Beats Scissors

My kids have been quite into playing Rock Paper Scissors lately.  The only thing is, the old game got a little boring, so they've made up some new rules.  I don't know all the rules, but I have picked up a few.  So, in case you want to play, here's what I can tell you.

Dynamite beats Rock
Gun beats Paper
Crocodile beats Scissors
Shield beats Gun
Robot beats Shield
Chuck Norris beats Crocodile
Death Star beats Chuck Norris
Luke Skywalker beats Death Star
Darth Vader beats Luke Skywalker
Emperor beats Darth Vader
Harry Potter beats Emperor

I'll keep you posted if the rules change some more. :)

Little Boy Adventures

At the end of February, Cannon turned eight.  Eight must be a pretty important age, because it hasn't even been a month yet, and he's already had lots of adventures.
He got a pogo stick for his birthday, and I was sure he'd have a broken arm within a week, but so far so good.  He can stay on it for hundreds of hops in a row, and it's basically the perfect toy for my little jumping bean.

Turning eight means, of course, that he got baptized! Jef was able to baptize and confirm him, and when we asked Cannon afterwards how he felt, he said he felt taller.  That's a good thing, because the poor kid is awfully short for his age. He got to share his baptism with his super good friend, Cadie, from around the corner.  We were planning on attending her baptism anyway, so it was very convenient to have them on the same day.

The night before Cannon's baptism, I was giving some long overdue haircuts, and so the boys both had their shirts off.  They were thinking they were pretty hot stuff.  I was trying not to laugh. I'm sure someday they will both have impressive muscles, and this picture of Cannon's ribs will be a hoot.  What am I saying?  It's already a hoot!

We have been having such beautiful weather, that I bought some cheap kites at Wal-Mart and took my kids over to the elementary to fly them.  They thought it was so cool, and most of them couldn't remember ever flying a kite before.  (Guilt, guilt, guilt...  how are you supposed to keep track of all the experiences your children are supposed to have?  I should make a list.) 

Anyway, Cannon thought flying a kite was a breeze.  He even flew his kite for a time while lying down.  I guess it's easier to see your kite that way - easier on the neck, you know.



The weather has been so nice, in fact, that Cannon and Jennie were convinced they were going to melt the other day, and nothing would do but to take a run through the sprinklers.  In March?  But somehow they were able to talk their mother into it, and they were mercifully saved from melting to death.

They didn't even turn blue afterward, and Cannon was still begging for more when the sprinklers turned off.

And, of course, if you're eight that means you're in Cub Scouts.  And if you're in Cub Scouts, that means you get to go to the Pinewood Derby. 

Cannon's car did awesome! (Even if it didn't have a professional looking, obviously-not-done-by-an-eight-year-old paint job.)  He won first place in the Wolves (his age division), and 2nd place overall.  So he came home with a ribbon, a medal, and a trophy.  Being eight rocks!!!

One of the experiences Cannon has definitely not missed is milking a cow. My parents have a milk cow, so my dad is always looking for volunteers to do the milking. And Cannon is always happy to volunteer! He's getting pretty good at it, too!
So there's one month in the life of an eight-year-old.  You can imagine what it requires to keep up with the kid.  (Picture me out of breath, running up to every event with my camera.)  Here's hoping the next eleven months will be a little quieter.  (I'm not counting on it, but I can always hope.)

Ann Marie

Well, my policy on journals and blogs has always been that you shouldn't try to catch up.  Just write/blog about what's happening now, and let the rest go.  So you'll have to trust me that we had a great Thanksgiving, a great Christmas, and great New Years.  Oh, and my brother left on his mission - and he's flying to Hungary TODAY!!!  Go Tom!
But it does seem wrong to just skip over the birth of my seventh child, so I'll bend my rule just this once. ;)
The Dr. was perfectly willing to start my labor for me.  In fact, because my last delivery went so fast (about 20 minutes), he made sure I was willing to be started at 39 weeks before he even took out my IUD.  I assured him that was fine with me, he took it out, and a couple weeks later we were expecting!  Honestly, I wasn't expecting it to happen quite that fast, and it put us in a quandary about the delivery day. See, I would arrive at 39 weeks on Nov 28th.  But we already have a birthday on that day.  There's another birthday on the 30th.  (Not sure why we're so fond of the end of November.)  We could have just waited until a couple days into December, but Tom was going into the MTC on the 30th, and it seemed a shame to make him wait two years before seeing the baby.  So that left us with the 29th.  I wasn't ecstatic about the idea of celebrating birthdays three days in a row every year, but neither Jef nor the Dr. saw any problem with it.  (Men!)
So the baby was scheduled to arrive on the 29th.  Skip past a couple months of morning sickness, several months of feeling not-too-bad, and a couple months of constant discomfort, and we arrive at the delivery day!  Crazy to say, but I was quite nervous.  Not nervous for the delivery.  Been there, done that.  But the last time I was in the hospital, I ended up losing all my hair and several months of my life.  It took quite a while to get back into my life again, and I was just not excited about starting over again.  I realize it was completely illogical to be afraid that would happen.  I would be home within a day or two, and other than being tired and sore, I would be fine and life would continue on as normal. (Or, rather, normal plus a baby.)  But as the time drew nearer, I kept catching myself preparing my house for several weeks of my absence.  Kept telling myself that wasn't necessary, but sometimes self just doesn't listen.  So I arrived at the day basically scared to death for no good reason at all. (I don't remember being scared at all to go into brain surgery, but this wouldn't be the first time I didn't make any sense.)
Each time I have a child, I manage to cut my delivery time in half.  I started out at 9 hours with the first one, then 4, then 2, then 1, and so on, til I got it down to 20 minutes.  (No, it doesn't actually work out mathematically, but you get the idea.)  So I was thinking this time it would take around 10 minutes.  Sounds good, right?  But, of course, just when you think you have life figured out, it sends you a curve ball.  This child was posterior, and required not ten minutes, but three hours of delivery time.  Three hours?  Seemed like forever.  I know, I know, it's not really that long, but in comparison...  Plus I had to do some real pushing.  Real pushing?  I hadn't had to do that for the last several children.  I had graduated past all that nonsense!  But I pushed anyway, and she eventually made her entrance.  Now, we hadn't found out the gender of this child beforehand, but I was really really really really really really really really hoping for a boy.  Really.  So when she came out a girl...   Well, I was a little dismayed.  It didn't last long, though.  How can you hold a newborn infant and not fall in love immediately? 

We didn't have a name (because she was supposed to be a boy.)  So it was almost 24 hours before she had a name of her own.  Jef wanted to name her Carianne (not sure how we would've spelled it) but I didn't think she looked like a Carianne. (Caryann? Carrie-Ann?)  I didn't have any ideas of my own, though, so we were at an impasse.  (If she would have been a boy, I would've had LOTS of suggestions.)  So finally my parents came to visit us in the hospital, and they came up with Ann Marie. (Like the little girl on All Dogs Go to Heaven) (Even though I don't even like that movie.  But the little girl is cute.)  I wasn't so sure, since Ann Anderson sounds like you're stuttering.  But Ann-Marie Anderson doesn't sound too bad.  And we could call her Annie for short.  That clinched it for me. I've always wanted an Annie.  I was still not sure that Annie Anderson didn't sound silly, but everyone assured me it didn't, so we did it.  I still cringe when anyone calls her Ann.  Not that I don't like the name, I just don't want it to stick and have her end up as Ann Anderson.  She would hate us!  She'd end up getting married at 15 just to have a last name that doesn't start with An.  And yes, we could have named her Carianne and still called her Annie.  sigh.
But she's here, she's named, I didn't have to lose months of my life, and everyone is doing great.

Halloween

 Halloween again!  Seems like it just keeps coming around.  Not that I had a bad attitude about it this year.  I was actually ok with it, and willing to put some effort into my kids' costumes.  Only problem was, none of them could decide what they wanted to be.  (Decision-making is not one of our better skills - at least not amongst my children.)  Jennie finally decided that she wanted to be Katara.  (Ever watched any Avatar the Last Airbender cartoons?  Jennie watches tons, and she knows every detail.  So when she says that she wants to be Katara, that means an exact replica.  I was pretty much in a lot of trouble.)  But when we went and found the dress-up box to see if there was anything helpful, she took one look at all that floof and sparkle, and decided she wanted to be a princess (Thank heaven!). 

 Lydia was set on being a bunny, and she actually went to preschool dressed as a bunny, but when Jennie switched to a princess...  Well, who wouldn't want to be a princess?  I decided that Cannon should be a ninja, and he was ok with that.  Ben would have loved a more involved costume, but he wouldn't decide on anything until the last minute, and they just don't sell pre-teen costumes.  So he was a quarterback.  Get it?  It was the easiest costume ever, and actually fits his sarcastic personality quite well.

Robyn was a cowgirl, and Emily was a nerd.  Too bad I didn't get a better picture of Emily's costume.  She did a good job of putting it together - high pants, suspenders, patterned socks, and tape on the glasses.
The three "big kids" all went trick-or-treating with friends, so we just had to take the younger set.  It was actually quite pleasant.  I told them we could keep going until someone started crying, so they were trying to be on their best behavior.  When I finally announced that this was the last stop, they objected, and said, "But nobody's crying!"  I said, "But I'm about to cry."  (I really was.  My feet were killing me.)  They didn't think that should count, but they had enough candy to keep them hysterical for a week, and we all went home happy.