zucchini's...

"Hey Mom,

some people when they go swimming,

they wear zucchini's,

and that does NOT make Jesus happy."

good enough...

my resume:

1. I make the best darn grilled cheese sandwiches...EVER! My kids insist that if they have a stomach ache, my grilled cheese can cure it. They are THAT good.

2. I can rinse kids hair in the tub without ever getting soap or water in their eyes.

3. I can clip fingernails/toenails like nobody's business. All 120 of them. Dave does his own.

Shouldn't I be getting paid more?

rub-a-dub-dubby...

...four girls in the tubby. We tried this for the first time earlier this week. It was so freaking cute. Hands all OVER Margaret. Molly took a turn holding her and the twins were inches away on either side telling her just what to do. Molly had just had her hair washed earlier that day, so I pulled it up...explaining the "Heidi from the hills" look. Four daughters. I have four daughters. Sheesh.

the house of love...

Emily put this crazy/sweet sign on the house almost 2 weeks ago, and I can't bring myself to take it down. The wind will have to carry it away. I love our little house and everything that it holds...minus the clutter. This isn't a dream home by any means, but it is the Schofield's home. It is ours. It is the home that my children will think of when they remember their childhood. Small as it may be, I think it's cute. The cutest one on the block, actually. Winter isn't it's cutest season, but in the spring and summer, I turn onto our street and sigh when I see it. Dave keeps up the yard beautifully. It's just bright and happy.

That's what I want my home to be...bright and happy. And warm. You know those homes? The ones that you go into and don't want to leave. They are filled to the brim with love and kindness. You feel peaceful, content, happy. I've been in a few of those in my lifetime. Really only a few. And they weren't the cleanest or the neatest or the most fabulously decorated. They weren't any of those things, but they made me feel a certain way. The way I want my home to make others feel. The way my parents home makes me feel now. A teeny bit of it may be the house, but MOST of it is the people inside. They way they treat eachother. The way they love eachother and respect eachother. You can reach out and touch the feeling I'm talking about. It warms you right up when you are sad or blue. It calms you when you are anxious or worried. You want to move in and stay forever.

handcrafted by Molly...

I bet you've never played Phase 10 that was created by cutting apart your 3rd grade sisters multiplication practice sheet. Well WE have! Barrels of fun. Molly created it last week and Emily and I were the lucky ones who got to play, each move being under the direction of the creator. :)

She creates hats too. Have you ever seen anything so inventive? Surely you want one. Let us know...she's quickly increasing her rates due to overwhelming demand. :)

sweet whisperings...

I've put off writing this post for quite awhile. I think it was too emotional for me, and maybe a bit too revealing about me as a mother. Would people judge me for my mistakes? Now I realize it just doesn't matter. I need to share my thoughts about sweet whisperings, promptings we can receive from the spirit. Warnings at times. I've read several blogs lately documenting loss, tragedy. Mostly the loss of a child. My heart is so heavy as I read them. My throat and chest ache from trying to hold in my sobs. I cannot fathom the pain of losing a child. I can't wrap my mind around it. I have fears sometimes of losing one. It always happens to be Emily which really confuses and frightens me. I'll watch the news and panic. I'll watch Law and Order and panic. I'll walk down the boardwalk with my kids, counting every head as we go, and panic. Then I remember that the Lord does not use FEAR to teach or help us. He uses gentle (ok...maybe sometimes forceful) promptings of the spirit, but never fear. Fear is from someone else.

Back in July, we spent a few days in Fairview with Dave's family at his sister Kim's house. She has a pool. What could be cooler? My friend Jamie lent me this cool floatie for Molly. I worried that the pool would be so crowded, that we would lose track of her. That she could slip out of her tank-top floatie and sink. I prayed before we went. And then I watched her like a hawk. There WERE tons of people in the pool. 20-25 at times. I kept right on watching her. I was never more than 5 feet from the pool. I kindof sat by myself a lot so that I wouldn't be distracted by conversation. Friday came and went and everything was fine.

On Saturday, after the parade, we headed back to Kim's to swim again. Fear entered my mind as we drove back. I could visualize Molly going under the water, but noone knowing about it. I was afraid. Then I told myself that that must have been a promting from the Lord. She was going to drown. What would I do? I decided to take that fear and turn it into something positive. Once again I watched her vigilantly. I didn't take my eyes off of her. Until Margaret woke up inside the house. Molly had been just fine for 2 days. If I ever had to turn away from the pool, I asked Grandma or Kara to watch her. This time I didn't. I thought I would only be a second. Minutes later, someone brought her in the house, sobbing, wrapped in a towel. She had taken off her floatie, then decided she wanted to hop back in. She climbed down the stairs and inched along the wall with her hands, until she slipped and went under. Dave's brother Bob, who I am SURE was led by the spirit to be standing just where he was, to turn his head just when he did, saw her struggling. Within seconds, he had reached down and pulled her out. I was sick. I was SO sick. I had seen it happening in my mind, tried to prevent it, then sat in the house as it happened anyway. What if Bob hadn't seen? What if he had, but 60 seconds later? The pool was SO loud. So much yelling and splashing. What if? What if's don't do a whole lot of good. I think they are natural. It is just what we do as Moms. It just didn't help. Playing it over and over in my head didn't either. Today, 7 months later, I am grateful. For Bob, for Molly, for whisperings from the Lord.

About 2 months ago, I was reminded again how the Lord can speak to us. Protect those we love. I realize also, that not all stories end like this. Many, many stories end in heartache. Did these people fail to hear the promtings? Absolutely not. No. By expressing how I have been blessed, I hope to never take from those who have lost. There is a plan. None of us knows what it is. Only the Lord. Only Him.

We were giving the Bumbo a try. Margaret was so skinny that it was tough at first. She would slip down in the seat. She hated it. Once she plumped a bit though, she'd sit in it every now and again. I had her on the kitchen counter (I realize you could judge me at this point. It was irresponsible.) while I was emptying the dishwasher. I ran back to the bedroom for a second...can't even remember why. I knew she'd be safe on the counter. It was a bumbo for pete's sake. Those things are sturdy. I saw that the bed was unmade, and you KNOW how I like my bed to be made. I went to Dave's side to start pulling up the sheets. Then I I felt it. An urge to hurry back to the kitchen. Seriously, this will only take a minute. That's what I thought. But, I felt it again, so I stopped and I went. She was just fine, right there on the counter. I continued to put away the dishes. Within 60 seconds, Margaret had arched her back in frustration...so far, that she fell out of the bumbo onto the counter. If I had continued to make that bed, she could have been on the floor. What if I hadn't listened? There I go with the what if's again. I am so grateful that I felt that urgency. That I heard that prompting. That I listened. That my Margaret is ok.

The Lord loves us. He loves our children. He guides us daily in our lives. Through seemingly meaningless choices and decisions. He is the guide.

my friends...

I don't like when my friends put their homes up for sale "just to see if we get any bites". I don't like when my friends husbands have job interviews that would take them away from Provo. I don't like when my friends realize their homes are just too small for their growing families. I don't like it. Not a single bit. I love my friends. I treasure them. They are a part of me. The thought of any of them leaving makes my heart sink. It makes me anxious, and I really hate being anxious.