As easy as...

In a recent comment on my friend's blog, I made reference to a particularly embarrassing experience I had not long after Phil and I were married. After much thought and consideration, I decided to post it. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that I couldn't think of anything else to blog about. (ahem)

Our first apartment was quite small. We had a kitchen/living room area, a tiny bedroom, and an even smaller bathroom. There was enough room for our queen-size bed, but only just. We positioned the bed about 8 inches from the wall on my side so there was enough room (barely) to squeeze in to make the bed. There wasn't much space to move around in, but the arrangement worked.

Now, we all know that every married couple goes through a period of adjustment when it comes to sleep. After however many years of sleeping single in your own bed, you suddenly have to learn to sleep with another person. The first few weeks after the wedding are adventurous--even fun, I might say. But then reality hits. Ours hit during finals week.

After a grueling evening of studying for our finals, Phil and I headed for dreamland. I slept great that night. I assumed he had too. But he informed me the next morning that I was crowding him all night long, and he couldn't sleep. I felt horrible. (So much concern for one another when you are newlyweds....) I determined that I would make sure he slept really well the following night.

A long day of tests, work, and more studying left both of us tired. We headed off to bed and were soon asleep. My subconscious mind remembered my determination to not crowd Phil during the night. This meant that each time I would surface to consciousness, I would roll away from Phil. It worked well, until I rolled too far.

Remember how my side of the bed was 8 inches away from the wall? You can guess what happened. Not only did I roll off the bed, I was so twisted up in the sheets that only one foot was touching the floor. I was completely wedged and mummified.

Phil woke up to the WHUMP of me falling off the bed, but when he looked over to see what happened, I was gone. At that point, he turned on the lamp and saw one of my arms sticking up helplessly. Then he heard my pitiful cry of "Help me!" (Remember the part in "The Emperor's New Groove" when Kuzco sees the bug trapped in a spiderweb? That's how I sounded. "Help me! Heeeelp meeeeeeee!" But without the spider.)

With much effort on his part, Phil was able to pull me out of my predicament. He didn't even laugh at me. (Bless you, sweetie.) I explained what happened and why I was trying to move away from him as I slept. He felt so bad about it that he told me I could sleep as close to him as I wanted, just so I wouldn't fall off the bed again.

It didn't take long, however, for the cry "Help me!" with an accompanying feeble arm wave to become the family joke. Thanks, Phil.

Feeling Gloopy

Note to reader: Go get some cheese. You'll need some with the whine that follows. Or, perhaps, a raincoat would be helpful for the verbal vomit that will be spewing forth.


I just read CJane's latest post on Segullah. I love CJane, and I love reading her posts. Sadly, she is taking a one-month hiatus from her blog. And I completely understand.

You see, I, too, am feeling gloopy. I had a great weekend planned for the holiday, and then I had to cancel everything. This is what happened:

On Wednesday, while cleaning my sister's house in preparation for our book group on Thursday, I got a call from the school. My second son, S, whispered into the phone, "Mom, my teacher said that I'm coughing and that I have a high fever. Can you come get me?"

I hurried son number three into coat, socks, and shoes (which is a great feat, let me tell you) and headed over to rescue my sick child. I found S in the office looking very wilted. I was confused--he was perfectly fine when I sent him off to school that morning. But, at some point during the day, he experienced an immediate onset of violent chills and a high fever.

Sure enough, the thermometer confirmed that he had a fever. No coughing--just fever. We dosed him up on ibuprofen and catered to his needs. Later, during the middle of the night, S threw up. Lovely. At least he got all of it in the barf bowl that Phil sent to bed with him. Of course, I was the one who got up with him and cleaned everything up.

Thursday, Phil took S to the doctor. We worried about spinal meningitis because of his complaints of neck pain. Thankfully, it wasn't that. He was diagnosed with influenza. (sigh) So much for those flu shots we all got last fall. But then things got worse. He developed severe ear pain. You have to understand that all of my sons have a high tolerance for pain. So when S came into my room in the middle of the night sobbing uncontrollably because his ear hurt, I knew something was seriously wrong. Of course, I'm the one who got up to calm, comfort, and dose up.

Back to the doctor on Saturday. Sure enough--an ear infection. Likely a burst eardrum, given the nasty stuff oozing out of his ear. That started the weekend out nicely. (Have you ever tried to stay on top of ear pain with OTC pain meds? It doesn't work well.)

I went to bed Saturday night after staying up to prepare my Sunday lesson for the Young Women, still hoping that we might still make our plans to play with friends on Monday. Hah. I had to get up again with S to help him with his ear. He wanted to sleep in our bed. Normally, I'd say no, but it was easier to help him that way.

After a restless night, I woke up Sunday morning with a full-blown cold. So much for a fun weekend with friends. I made it through the day and slept soundly Sunday night. (Phil told S to come get him during the night if he needed something.) Lucky for Phil, there were no nighttime wakings.

I spent all day yesterday trying to keep peace between three bored boys, the oldest of which thinks making little brothers cry is an Olympic sport that he intends to qualify for. In between mediation attempts, I tried to nap and rest my weary body. (Have you ever tried to nap with a three-year-old child? They think poking their fingers up your nose every time your eyes close is great fun. He kept telling me, "You not tired, Mommy. I say no, you not tired!")

On top of all that, S went around all day with a tissue stuck in his ear to soak up all the drainage. Dis-gus-ting. Can't send him back to school like that, even if his fever is gone and he's racing around like a banshee.

Thankfully, my dear friend and neighbor, with whom we were supposed to play, called to tell me she was making me dinner. It was nourishing, both body and soul, and it lifted my spirits. Thanks, Katie! (You've never tasted caramel brownies like hers. They are to die for.) I felt loved and blessed.

However, after a mostly sleepless night last night, I am feeling gloopy today. Maybe I'll follow CJane's lead and take a month-long hiatus. Then again, maybe I just need a day or two off to recharge my batteries.

I think I'll start with a shower.

The Faith of a Child

My 7-year-old has set a goal to read the Book of Mormon this year before his 8th birthday.

I set up a simple reading schedule for him and started in on Monday night. On Tuesday night, as we were reading 1 Nephi 2:16-17, we got talking about how he can know if the Book of Mormon is true. I explained Moroni's promise and we discussed what it feels like when the Holy Ghost tells us that something is true. I told him that when the Spirit speaks to us, we feel warm and happy inside and we might even have "happy tears."

He got very concerned and asked, "But Mom, what if it's not true?"

I answered, "Well, then you'll feel confused and dark and cold inside. But I can tell you for myself that I know it's true."

I kissed him goodnight and tucked him in.

The following morning, he came into my room where I was reading my own scriptures. He snuggled up to me in bed with his Book of Mormon in hand and said, "Mom! Guess what?"

"What?"

"Guess what! I did just like you said last night, and guess what?"

"What?"

"Well, I prayed just like you said and I felt that warm touch inside!"








...and a little child shall lead them.