I had a doctor's appointment today. I weighed the incredible weight of 175 lbs. Why do they allow pregnant women to see their weight gain? It's just depressing. I have the biggest weight gain still to come over the next four months. I will be over 200 lbs before it's all over. Depressing.

We also found out some other important news at the doctor's office today. We're having a boy! This will give us 5 boys and 1 girl. Although I am now starting to adjust to this news, I have to admit even several hours after the news I was still breaking off and on into tears. I can't remember if I blogged about this or not, but soon after my youngest boy Russell was born, I was thinking about whether or not to have more children. I had a very spiritual experience when the Spirit bore witness to me that I was not done and was supposed to have another baby.

It is true I did not have any confirmation or assurance I would have a girl, but there was this part of me deep inside that felt like I must be having a girl. We had four boys already and I felt for some reason we were supposed to have another baby. It must be a girl. That must be the reason. I just knew it. I already had plenty of boys, so why would I need to have another boy? IT MUST BE A GIRL. As time went on and I became pregnant, I have to say I felt more and more assured I would be having a girl. Scott tried to bring me down and give me occasional reality checks, reminding me how we didn't know what we were having and I was only setting myself up for disappointment. I tried. I sincerely did. But deep down, I just knew we had to be having a girl.

Today at my ultrasound, the technician asked if we wanted to know the gender. We assured her we did! For those of you who have had an ultrasound like this, they always check everything before they look at the gender. They look at the heart a milllion different ways, they look at the spine, and the brain, and the femur, and the feet, and the hands, and the kidneys, and take tons of measurements... You basically just tell yourself to sit back and be patient. Then they usually give you some kind of hint that they are about to look for the baby's gender. Our technician was in the middle of all of this, looking at all these different views of the spine. Then she blurts out, "Oh! Look at that! He's flashing us! It's definitely a boy." I felt like someone had slapped me in the face. Out of the blue. For no reason. I wasn't mentally ready for that declaration. I had known it was going to be a girl. And then randomly in the middle of looking at the spine, everything changed. It still feels a little surreal.

I couldn't hold the tears back, but at least I didn't sob there in the office. I waited until Scott and I were on our way home. :) My poor Scott. I know it must be frustrating to remind someone over and over again to not get their hopes up so high - only to have them do it anyway and then watch them crash with disappointment. I kept thinking, "Am I just not good at raising girls?" and "How could my feelings have been so wrong?" and continued to doubt myself and how much I have clearly not been in tune with the Spirit. Scott has been very patient with me today though, telling me over and over again what a good mother I am and reminding me that our lives are far from over. There are reasons for everything and we are not supposed to know all of God's reasons today for everything that happens. In fact, we cannot. It comes down to faith. Faith that even though the path I thought was in store for us turned out to be wrong, Heavenly Father knows the path we are supposed to take. And it is better than the one I would choose for myself. Better not just for me, but for everyone around me.

I go to bed tonight excited to meet this little boy that will be joining our family. He must be a pretty special little guy. I know that he will be exactly what our family needs, and we will all love him dearly. I am blessed to have so many little boys. And I continue to be blessed by my little Erin, whom I love so much and who is already one of my very best friends.

I was standing by the back door watching my three little boys play in their tiny little blow-up pool yesterday - having the time of their lives - and I just felt such happiness. I mostly blog about my horrible experiences or adventures with my kids, honestly because I think those are the times that I feel the most need to vent and get things off my chest. But more often than not, my children fill me with a deep sense of joy. I love being a mom. When I hear Erin and Zach playing a little duet together on the piano, when my little one year old squeals as Scott pretends to chase him around the kitchen, when they all run around screaming and squirting each other in the backyard, when my boys battle each other with their noodle swords, and even when one of my kids throw themselves on the ground crying in despair, it makes me smile -- because I see myself in them and I remember my own childhood now long gone, and it brings me this deep joy to see part of myself continuing on and beginning again.

With all of this reflection, I move on into my next line of thought... A word about myself has managed to get out and start quickly spreading, so instead of trying to reign it in, I am just going to say it myself and be done with it. The word is pregnant. Yes, my friends, Scott and I find ourselves once again expecting a new addition to our little family, baby number SIX!!

In so many ways it is strange to think that I am going to be the mother of six children... I mean, that is a lot of kids!! I swear, I was just in high school yesterday, so young and innocent, going to pep rallies, running cross country, playing volleyball, cheering for the basketball team, going to prom... It's weird that this part of my life is not only gone, but long gone.

And then in another way, it feels so normal and right that I will have six children. I have seen this day and imagined it since I was a very little girl. I always knew I would have a lot of children running around. I loved my life as a child with 7 brothers and sisters. I loved the chaos and the forever friendships you can only have with a sibling. I loved watching my mom and always wanted to be just like her.

I am truly so, so excited to have this baby! I am not very far along yet, only about 9 weeks, not long enough to "show" in theory... but in REALITY I am showing about as much as my sister at 5 months along. I can't be for sure, but I swear, the very first week of my pregnancy I think my pants started feeling tight. I have decided my body knows exactly what to do and is just kicking it in gear early. It's a little depressing to be showing this much so early because it probably means I am going to get HUGE, but then again, I always get huge. lol -- Just writing this makes me laugh. I like being pregnant in a lot of ways because I don't stress anymore about how big I get. I just enjoy the pregnancy for what it is (getting huge and fat and carrying a gigantic watermelon around in my stomach) and I will worry about repercussions afterwards. Maybe not the best way to live, but I have to feel it isn't the worst way either. :)

I haven't even had my first doctor's appointment yet, although I will in two days! I think I will be due mid February. That means we should be able to find out the gender in October sometime. I have never understood those people with patience enough to wait until the baby comes to find out the gender. I am, of course, hoping to finally get a little girl Mouritsen in this household and Erin desperately needs a sister in this house of crazy boys!!! Please everyone... pray for us. ;)

Well I met my New Year's Resolutions for 3 months. I kept meaning to write something in April but never quite got around to it. I guess at least I have room for improvement next year...

My mornings are so stressful. No wonder I don't want to get out of bed in the mornings. Here was my morning today:

I woke up, went downstairs to get Erin moving (she always takes the longest to get ready) and go upstairs to start breakfast. We had oatmeal. Actually I had to wash a pan so we could have oatmeal. I almost don't want to show you this, but I will. I haven't seen my countertops in days. My life is so crazy busy right now that I feel like I am only maintaining. Actually, not even maintaining -- look at these dishes. UGH

Wally has been doing so so well with not wetting the bed lately, but last night he not only wet his sheets but he also had a bloody nose, bleeding all over his pillow. As I began cleaning that up, Russell woke up on my bed. Wally and Erin began fighting over who got to go get him. I solved it by saying it was Wally's turn. Erin gets to get him when he wakes up in his crib, and Wally gets to get him when he is on my bed. Erin began freaking out that she never EVER gets to get him because he always ends up in my bed. Not totally true, but I definitely see her point. I finish getting the sheets into the washer and work on fixing Erin's hair.

I was finishing up her hair (about 8:05) when I realized Zach had never gotten in the shower. He is still sitting at the breakfast table looking at his Guinness Book of World Records. I yell at him to get in the shower and why didn't he get in when I asked him?? He said he didn't hear me and starts to cry, but he gets in. The crying doesn't faze me much today. You see, Erin had been crying nonstop while I fixed her hair because she said her feet were frozen and I was making her stand right by the vent. I said she should be grateful we have AC or she would be too hot. She also wanted to wear flip flops but couldn't because its against school rules. She said every other girl has lots of sandals to choose from and she only has one pair. I ignored her.

I finish with Erin's hair and am signing off folders when the alarm goes off to warn me I have about five minutes before the bus arrives. I yell at Zach to get out of the shower and go to sign his folder. I find the missing pages of his homework shoved into his backpack (he could only find one page last night). He has luckily finished most of it except like half a page which I rushed him through. Erin is just standing by, watching us. I look up and see her there and get after her that the bus is probably out there and she needs to GO!!! She stomps off that she's a horrible daughter and I hate her. She opens the door to see the bus pulling up to the stop sign in front of our house. She takes off running to the next bus stop, so I holler "bye" after her and zip up Zach's backpack while pushing him out the door... just as Erin comes running back in saying she forgot something. She trips at the door and hits her knee really hard on the tile. As she laid on the floor crying, I yelled at Zach to go catch the bus and then help up Erin. I gave her a hug and asked her what she forgot. She said she forgot to hug me goodbye. What a tender heart she has. "Oh Erin," I said. I hugged her tightly, told her I loved her, and then told her to hurry and try to catch the bus. "If you don't make it," I say, "just come back and I'll take you." But I guess she made it because she didn't come back.

I feel like I just ran a marathon... NOT that I have every run a marathon or have any ambition to ever run one. Besides, who has the time?? I don't even have time to fit in a 1-mile jog on most days. I would rather take a nap anyway... or maybe just do the dishes. :)

Zach is seriously one of a kind. He was baptized recently. It was a wonderful day and I was very proud of him. He is growing up so much. But he is still Zach.

A few days ago, Zach called me from school. "Mom? Um, I forgot my library book at home."
Me: Is it library day today?
Zach: Yes, and it's also art day but we already did that earlier today. I was working on a special project about...
Me: But did you need something from me, Zach?
Zach: Oh yes! I need my library book because today is library day. It's called "The History of Monsters." It's a big book and it's green. All the kids are already in the library, and the librarian said I can't get any more books at all until I turn that one in because it's overdue.
Me: Do you know where the book is?
Zach: Somewhere downstairs... But I think you could find it if you looked for it.

At this point, he begins going on about all the places I should look. I go look on the bookcase in the toy room and found it there. I go upstairs, put on my shoes, and load up the kids. He is still talking.

Me: Ok, Zach. I found it and I will bring it up to you.
Zach: Oh, great mom! Now, mom? (pause)
Me: Yes?
Zach: Well, um... Come as fast as you can because everybody is already in the library but don't speed, ok?
Me: (smiling) Ok, Zach.
Zach: Wait, um... Mom? (pause)
Me: Yes?
Zach: Well, um... Because if you speed then you will get a ticket. And getting a ticket means you have to pay a lot of money. And do you know why I don't want you to have to pay a lot of money?
Me: Why?
Zach: Well, um.. Because then if you spend a lot of money because you got a ticket then you won't have very much money left and then you won't have any money left for ME. (At this point I swear I can hear him smiling. I am starting to laugh) Because then you won't have any money to buy me anything because you will spend all your money on that ticket you got for speeding. And I really want you to have money for ME...
Me: Ok, Zach. Ok. I get it. (we are both slightly laughing now) I will be there soon.
Zach: Ok, bye. I love you!
Me: Love you too.

Then when I get there, he is sitting on a chair right by the front office, reading a book. I asked him about how he got that book, and he told me that he already had this one, but he wanted ANOTHER one, which is why he needed me to bring the one from home... hmmm...

As I am leaving, he says "Thank you mom! You are the best mom ever!"
Me: Thanks Zach.
Zach: Oh wait, mom?
Me: Yes? (pausing in the doorway)

He then comes over and gives me a big hug, a very slobbery kiss on the cheek, and blows a raspberry in my ear. And then starts to laugh hysterically.

Me: Bye, Zach.
Zach: Bye, Mom!! XOXOXO!!

Come What May & Love It

We had quite a scare last week with my dad. He had been having some intense stomach pains and finally went into the hospital Monday morning. His appendix had burst and he needed surgery right away. In the surgery, they also had to remove one of his colons, discovered he had a hernia and a large mass that they weren't sure was cancerous or not. I felt concern, but somehow detached from my feelings until about Thursday night. He was still in the hospital and wasn't doing very well. I had tried to talk to him on the phone, but he had tubes in his throat and couldn't talk but for a few seconds. My mom spent the nights sleeping on a chair in his room. That night I cried for the first time. I still didn't know if he had cancer, and I couldn't see him or even talk to him. I couldn't be there for a support for my mom. They were thousands of miles away, and I couldn't do anything to help. I was struck with how fragile life is, and I hurt inside, feeling like I was missing all of this important time with my parents that I won't get back.

Things got better after that night. The mass they discovered during surgery was not cancer, and my dad began to improve enough that he was released on Friday evening to go home. I always miss my mom and dad. I miss my kids getting to know them as well as I do. But I know they are doing the best they can, and I know that we are blessed to know that no matter what happens in the future, we will see each other again someday. And there won't be these thousands of miles in between us then. My good brother in law, Kevin, showed a short video during the Mouritsen FHE Sunday night entitled, "Come What May and Love It." I couldn't figure out how to post the video on this same blog entry, so I added it as a separate entry.

All I could think of while we watched it was my mom and dad. There are so many things we can't control about our lives here on Earth - our age, sudden health problems, how regularly we get to see family, sometimes where we live and sometimes even death of our loved ones. I wanted to share this video and just say how much I appreciated watching it. I was reminded that no matter comes to us in our lives, we can find joy. We can "love it." I'm grateful you're still with us, dad. I'm grateful you are my dad and for the strong example of faith you always are. You still have a lot to teach us. I love you!

I was all upset because I set a New Year's goal to write on my blog at least once a month and I thought I had forgotten last month. It's only January, and already I have failed in my goal. But then I got on today and realized my last entry was January 1st!! Hooray! So I am blogging again today and hopefully will be able to keep this up all year. It's only once a month, right?

This morning has been pretty normal for me. I just got the kids off for school and we all waved as the bus drove away. I walk into the kitchen to finish clearing the kitchen table. As I went down the hall to put something in the dirty clothes, I notice Russell in his room. He has completely emptied his diaper bag all over his room and is chewing on something. It is a lego. He easily gives it up to me with a bunch of spit -- he is always very easygoing about most things. I shoo him away and pick everything up. As I finish, he walks in, snacking on something he obviously pulled out of the garbage can. I hate it that he does that, but it is seriously his favorite past time. I really get after him for that and swat him on his bum, pretty hard I thought, but he runs away laughing hysterically.

So I put the lid back on the trash can and go see where he went. Someone left the bathroom door open and he has opened cupboards and began throwing random things into the bathtub. I pick everything up, shoo him away, and shut the bathroom door. I take a bathroom break and soon hear too many noises in the kitchen. When I arrive, he has pulled off a plate and fork from the table (we had pancakes -- sticky with lots of syrup). He was pouring it all over himself and the floor and licking it up hungrily. Nice. So I picked him up, cleaned him off, and put him down. He started running as fast as he could back to his sticky spot of the floor. I have to hold the back of his shirt while I tried to rinse off and squeeze a rag. Then I let go and raced him to the sticky spot. I have to wash it up while I keep him away with my leg. He wails for a little while and then walks away. He doesn't throw many fits, unlike the rest of my children... After that, I finish clearing off the table so he won't pull down more dishes. I walk down the hall and find him again in his room. This time he found his new package of diapers I just opened last night and has pulled out all of them and proceeded to throw them all over his room. I shove the diapers into a corner and call it good.

I still haven't started any laundry, and Erin was crying all morning that she didn't have any pants to wear (she had several pair, just not any that she would agree to wear). I go into the laundry room to start a load. Russell follows me. The laundry room is his favorite place in the house besides the garbage can. I let him help me put clothes into the washer for a minute, but somehow he sneaks around me to grab the detergent cup. I use liquid detergent and keep the bottle and the measuring cup right behind the door. He knows that. He loves to grab the cup, pour out the little bit that is usually remaining in it, and then get down and spread it all over. He had succeeded in grabbing the cup and emptying it onto the floor before I noticed he had it. So I grabbed it, scooted him out of the laundry room, got the washing machine started and shut the door. He walked away, not a care in the world, and I went back in to clean it up.

I come back into the kitchen and he is in the garbage again (AAAAAAHHHHHH!!). He apparently couldn't reach anything good this time, so he has just tipped it over. A can with tomato sauce is spilled on the floor and he started walking towards me with an empty can of cream of mushroom soup. 

Where is he now while I'm writing this blog, you ask? I'm in the kitchen, so at least I know he hasn't been in the garbage, and the bathroom doors are closed. He is downstairs... but you can count on it that he is wreaking as much havoc as possible. How can a 1-year-old, the most pleasant baby I have ever had, cause this many problems??? I have decided my only recourse is to sell him to the gypsies. Does anyone have a number I can call?