These kids...

Well, I am sick...still. With what? I'm still sticking with my story that it is allergies...even though it's lasted a month...and now my throat hurts...and I lost my voice...and the amounts of mucous I've produced are...well... I think you get the idea. I know right now my parents are saying (especially you, Dad), "You need to get that cough checked out!" They said that to me when they came a month ago, they said it to me on the phone a week or two ago, and I know they are saying it while reading this post. For that reason, I will NOT go to the doctor! I'll show you!...or somebody...or maybe just slowly die of stubbornness....

NOT the point of this post, just the precursor. So, I'm feeling shabby today. Getting worse as the evening progresses. Ornerier than those darn geese at the farm that keep chasing my kids! To top it off, I get home from the grocery store and hear Gage at the top of the stairs saying, "Those darn dogs chewed a poopy diaper again."

AAAaaaaarrRRRggggggg! No really, aaaaaaaarrrRRRRRGGGGGGG! I'm in the kitchen and already know I hate the dogs and am going to kill them. It is my LEAST, least favorite thing to do - cleaning shredded poopy diaper off my beautiful to behold, fluffy carpet. Did I say, "AAARRRRGGGG!" yet?

I tell the kids to get in bed, rather unfriendly like, AFTER saying prayers of course (Molli had to say them, I was in no mood). As I was cleaning up the diaper, I was thinking "I so am going to swear. Oh, how I hate those dogs. They are dead to me. Piece o' ...." and so on. Yet, part of me is thinking, "simmer...simmer...simmer...calm down. They're just dumb dogs."

Really, I was angry. Not a good moment.

Then I hear it. Just as I'm throwing the last "poopiness" in the garbage. The garage door opening and the BEAUTIFUL purr of Jake's second love of his life - the Landcruiser. Immediately, life is better. I can breath. No animals will die. The kids are visibly relieved as well (I still haven't talked to the dogs and still don't care how they feel.)

Jake gets the kids in bed after mentioning that he just felt he "needed to come home early tonight." Yes, 8pm IS early for him. So, we sit down to watch one of our favorite shows "The Biggest Loser."

Next thing we know, Gage's little head pops up out of nowhere, followed by a shorter little head owned by Molli. "Why is it still light outside? I can't go to sleep. Can Molli sleep in my bed?" To which our answer was, "Because. Go to sleep. No."

We continue our show.

Half way through, we hear some laughing upstairs. We look at each other and smiled. We both had to go sneak up on them and see what they were up to.

Come to find out, Molli was in Gage's bed. They were having a hitting war. Gage would hit Molli on the head and they would erupt in laughter. Then Molli would hit Gage... and again came the laughter. This went on for a couple of minutes. We just sat by Gage's bedroom door listening and trying to get it on video tape. We also got the following pictures.



It's not that I necessarily think it is okay for them to hit each other as much as I love it when I hear them laugh together. Even if they are breaking the rules and not obeying in the least!

Lately, when I want to tell them "no" and get after them for something, I have been asking myself one question first. That is, "Does it really matter in the eternal perspective?" I have a tendency to be OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) about some things. Sometimes with good reason, and sometimes without.

I heard this quote from someone who spoke at our Ward Conference last Sunday. He said, "Home is a place where love reins and peace dwells. Storms should stop at the door." I really want our storms to stay outside and our house to be a place of rest. Where we don't have to worry about bad influences and the spirit can be felt at any time.

So, to tie this in, I think one of my favorite ways to feel the spirit in our home, is to hear my kids laugh. Even when they didn't listen to me, are hitting each other, and are breaking the rules.