Taking my oldest daughter shopping for clothes can be a chore. Not because she is picky about the selection, but because everything has to fit. just. right. Sometimes the clothes fit perfectly in the store, but when we get home to model them for Dad they are suddenly to tight here, too baggy there, to itchy, etc.

Still I silently murmur my gratitude that she does not put me through what I put my poor mother through. We had to shop at certain stores. There were certain brands to be sought after and other's to be completely avoided. Some of her clothing suggestions we so horrid(by my teenie bopper standards) they only deserved a simultaneous sigh and rolling of the eyes.

I pray that my daughters don't turn into me as a early teenager. I cross my fingers that they will reasonable when it comes to shopping for clothes.

And yet a red flag went up this morning. My mother bought my oldest sons (10 and 9) ske!chers for school this year. Not because they are name brand, but because the boys (not even knowing they were Ske!chers) thought they looked cool and they were at the shoe outlet we were at.

So this morning as we are getting ready to go to school my daughter pipes up,"Hey! They have Ske!chers!"

The other daughter chimes in, "I want some of those too!"

Cringe. Do they really know that they are "name brand" shoes? Or did they just read the bottoms and think that was a cool name? Please don't let it begin in the second grade!!!!

Tonight I was planning on whining about the unqualified children's librarian who made my trip to the library less than delightful this evening. But I feel like it's about time I shared something that has happened in my family's life that is kind of a big deal to us, and kind of close to my heart.

Part of why I have been having a rough time keeping my home in order is because my husband has not been home much, as he was recently made a Bishop in the LDS (Mormon) church. Any Mormon can tell you this is a very time consuming calling for a man to have. Not only is he gone most of the day Sunday and two to three nights a week, but he is also constantly fielding phone calls and helping people who come by the house.

I fully support him in this. He is a kind man, a spiritual man, and a man that has a talent for and desire to help other people. Can you see why I married the guy in the first place?

Some ways that him being a Bishop has effected my life so far:
-I'm learning to sit through church alone with six children, including two two year olds.
-I have become an answering service for him.
-I often help four kids get through homework, and all of them get through baths, chores, and into bed without the aid of another adult.
-I often go to bed alone before he gets home from his weeknight meetings.
-I feel like I need to step it up a bit and be a better example and friend to the other women in the ward (congregation), and feel like I fall way short.
-Although the majority of people are understanding and down to earth, I worry about some ward members judging me and my family as we are far from perfect (see yesterday's post).
-I've realized there are many more people than I would have guessed that are needy financially, emotionally, and otherwise, and that there are times that they need my husband's attention as a Bishop more than I need him at home.
-I've found that blessings often come in unexpected ways and at unexpected times.
-I've realized that, even with a busy husband, I've got it really good.

At the risk of sounding too preachy, I have to say that I believe that sacrifice brings increased blessings and strength. I more than believe, I have no doubt. Who ever gained anything good without a little sacrifice? It probably sounds weird, but I think our family is growing closer as we try to balance our new lifestyle. It would be nice if it could have waited for the kids to be grown before this happened, but then they would not have had this example of selflessness and dedication while they were in their formative years.

Well, enough. Suffice it to say that I am a spiritual person, and that it affects all aspects of my life.

By the way, did I mention my husband is starting his Masters program this week?

I yelled today. Yep. Yelled. Probably the neighbors heard me. Probably they felt their suspicions that I have more kids than I can handle were well founded.

I hated myself even as I was doing it. I hate yelling at my kids. It doesn't help any of us feel better. But it does light a fire on them when it's time for them to take care of their cleaning responsibilities.

I love my kids.

I love a clean and orderly house.

Which do I love more?

My kids, of course. But (there's always a but, right?) I can not keep track of all their homework, all their stuff, prepare meals, find matching shoes, return library books, and simply function in a way that does not leave me frazzled and stressed out with my home in shambles. And neither can they.

I feel like I am at a loss tonight. I don't want to have a clean house at the expense of my kid's self esteem, but I can not keep it all clean myself. Just a little help from each kid would make a huge difference.

Conversation in the car tonight:

"Mom, Tim has a booger," five year old Gracie calls out to me.

"Oh," I respond, as it is quite normal for tow year olds to retrieve boogers with their fingers.

"Ewww, Mom! He's eating it!"

"Yuck," I say, only semi alarmed, as this too, albeit gross, is also quite normal two year old territory.

"UGH! He ate my booger!" Gracie yells out, half laughing.

"Your booger?" they now had my full attention.

"Yeah, I put it on his arm and he ate it!"

My stomach turned.

Two new rules that I never thought would have to be voiced aloud are now in effect:

1. Do not share your boogers. Especially with toddlers who may mistake them for a snack.

2. Eating boogers is strongly discouraged, but if you must eat boogers, please only eat your own.

Believe me kids, it's for your own good.

Technically it seems I should have more time on my hands, now that four of my six kids are in school. It seems like I should be able to do some of those things I have been putting off all summer - sewing, brushing up on the piano, getting the house organized, finishing my correspondence writing course, and deep cleaning EVERYWHERE.

But the fact is I still have two kids at home. Two two years olds as a matter of fact. Before you jump to the conclusion that I am not getting to do the things I have been longing too because the toddlers have gone berserk with the house to themselves; that are sapping my every spare moment to make sure they are not emptying out the trash cans, clogging the toilets with TP, or -the horror- getting into stuff in their sibling's rooms, let me assure you that, although those things have been known to happen, this is not the case.

I am not getting around to so many things I would like to because there is something that I have been wanting to do even more. (Yeah, I know I should insert blogging here, but you have probably noticed I haven't been doing too much of that lately either).

I have been playing with the twins. Although it can't be called undivided attention, I have been giving them a lot more. We are going on walks, bike rides, to the park, to the library, and even to the grocery store. We are reading together, playing "doggies" on our hands and knees, and doing lots more cuddling.

I now have the luxury of really listening to them. And they have a lot to say.

I won't say I'm glad the other kids are out of the house, because I do miss them when they are in school. But I am thankful for a little extra time with out the hustle and bustle of so many bodies so that I can give them more attention, and enjoy them while they are still little.

It feels like summer, but it's back to school time. Technically, it is still Summer -- as in the season. Where I live the leaves won't be achangin' for a good three months. But, the government says school starts in August so I send the kids, wondering if the next playground injury will be burns from a scalding slide or heat stroke from running around at full force in near 100 degree weather.

This morning I walked the kids to school. By the time I was back home I wondered why I had bothered to get up early to shower.

This afternoon I headed back to the school to walk them home (the stroller laden down with seven chilled water bottles). We arrived home with beads of sweat trickling down our red foreheads and cheeks, and strong desires to do nothing except lay under the air conditioning vent.

I thought I would sit on the couch and cool off while the kids told me about their new classrooms and teachers. This was only semi-effective as you can only cool off so much when you have a forty pound child sitting on your lap.

I hear some one say it every year, "Doesn't it seem like school keeps starting earlier and earlier?"

Either that or it's global warming, 'cause it sure doesn't feel like back to school time!