My mom sent Zach a $10 bill for his birthday last week. It has been sitting in the same spot on the counter since it arrived. I kept thinking every time I passed it that I really needed to move it somewhere safe, but I was always busy and just moved things around it so it could stay.

Last night we went at a sing-along concert at the elementary school. There was a guy from the State Dept. of Education who had written all these songs about "Dimension Prevention." It was cute and I had fun watching Erin and Zach, but not cute enough for me to want to buy the CDs they were selling afterward for $10 each. Erin and Zach did not feel the same, along with pretty much every other kid there. Did they brainwash these kids? Anyway, I didn't have any money with me, but Zach begged and begged and begged to use his birthday money to buy one of these CDs. I saw my neighbor there writing out a check to buy her kids a couple of the CDs and I asked her if she would add $10 to her check for us. As soon as we got home, I promised, one of the kids would run her the money over. I knew right where the money was, on the counter, of course.

What was I thinking??? We scoured the kitchen and went through every last piece of paper on that countertop. I searched through my bedroom, the bathroom, the boy's room, the baby's room, the piano, my pockets, my wallet, and EVERYWHERE ELSE at least three times each. I could not remember doing anything with this money, but I remember wanting to do something with it so often that I thought maybe I had moved it. I finally texted my neighbor to tell her we couldn't find the money and I didn't have any cash on hand, but I would bring it the next day.

I was soooo frustrated by this point. Seriously, what is wrong with me? Why didn't I put that money somewhere safe as soon as it arrived in the mail? I left it in the worst possible spot. I am really really careful when I clean off my counter and throw things away, but all I could figure was that I had thrown it away. There was simply no other option. I was in feeding the baby and Scott was tutoring a girl on our kitchen table when he sent me this text. "Have you said a prayer? Or asked Erin?" Every time I have ever lost anything -- or anybody has lost anything for that matter -- and Erin has said a prayer, it has been found. EVERY TIME. Even when I was beyond hope that it could be found, it was found. She has built my faith immeasurably. And yet every time, I reach that point where I am sure that this time, this time, it is gone forever. Why is my faith so weak? I struggle to have faith in my own prayers at times like this, but Erin does not, which is why I think her prayers always work. Also, I think I feel that it is my own fault and irresponsibility that the thing is lost in the first place, so Heavenly Father is not going to just show me where something is that I should be able to find myself and shouldn't have lost anyway! Ugh. I dunno.

Anyway, hence the text from Scott about asking Erin to pray. I had not. I was too upset to pray or even ask Erin to pray. Too frustrated to really even respond much to his question. And being the wonderful husband he is, he let me work it out and didn't run off to ask Erin himself, which is something I probably would have done. I tell him later in the evening that I am sure I must have thrown it away because I have checked everywhere else, and he wanted to go through the trash for me, right then and there!! I can't believe the wonderful man I married. That is true love, to be willing to dig through a disgusting garbage can searching for a $10 bill your wife threw away. Anyway, I would not let him do it because I had thrown away some really gross things in there yesterday and, I assured him, I wasn't for positive sure that I had actually thrown it away yet.

Then while I was putting Erin to bed, I asked her to say an extra prayer and please ask that I would find that money. She did.

So today, honestly, I haven't thought much about it except about when I could make it to the bank and withdraw $10. I, in my lack of faith, had again given up on ever finding Zach's birthday money. But lo and behold, I was folding laundry and FOUND IT!!!!!!!!!! It was in Zach's pants' pocket. I don't even know why I stuck my hand in there today because I was not thinking about it at all. But I did, and there it was. I couldn't believe it! Even now I am amazed how this happens every single time!! I know the Lord is watching me thinking, "Ok, Shannon. NOW will you believe me?" What would I do without the innocent, perfect faith of my 8-year-old and the gentle prompting of my loving husband? I am so grateful for prayer, and that my Heavenly Father has so much patience with me. I know the Lord cares about me and cares about the things that are important to me, even if it is only a lost $10 bill.

I am a wreck. I am tired beyond belief and my house is a disaster area. Here is my confession. I am lucky if I get to the dishes and the laundry and dinner. I am supposed to get laundry done on Mondays and Thursdays. It usually gets washed, but rarely folded let alone put away. I don't remember when I last washed everyone's sheets. Everything beyond laundry, dinner, and dishes doesn't even come close to happening. That includes sweeping, mopping, taking a shower or fixing my own hair, vacuuming, cleaning the bathroom, making beds, picking up the downstairs, cleaning the toyroom, cleaning the hamster cage (Erin told me last night she is just getting used to the stink of it, so it's ok. Heaven forgive me), let alone doing things I want to do like playing the piano or reading or watching a show or reading to the kids.

I am exaggerating some. I do pick up some things sometimes, like when I trip over it or when somebody else is coming over and will see that room. I do shower, although sometimes it's late at night when it finally happens. I occasionally sweep/vacuum -- when it's bad enough. I do usually remember to bathe the kids, although that is sometimes even spotty. I also clean bad areas in the bathrooms occasionally, and Scott usually does a pretty good job of them on the weekends. But everything is basically true.

I walk through my house this morning and just want to cry -- out of depression and being overwhelmed with how much I am truly lacking in this job. I would get fired if I had a boss. You may ask, why are you so behind? What do you do all day? I ask myself the same thing. Obviously I spend some time on the computer. However, I would like to think that is therapeutic and part of what keeps me functioning. Um... I nurse a lot. I teach piano lessons three nights a week. I am just mostly tired. I know I could get more done if I had some energy, but it somehow evades me. I have been exercising pretty regularly recently which gives me an energy boost of about one hour.

I think of my future and look at all my children. I have five (so far), very close in age. I know things just get busier the older they get. Also, I would like to teach elementary school someday when my kids are all in school. HOW WILL I POSSIBLY SURVIVE MY FUTURE!?!?!?! I don't think I am surviving now. UGH.

I have decided. There is no other solution really. I am hiring a maid. And a nanny. Anybody interested in working for me? The pay isn't much... non-existent really. But just know that you will be helping someone in great need. I wish I were wealthy and had a housekeeper to do all this. Housekeeping is obviously not one of my strong-points. I'm not sure what my strong-points are, exactly, but I'm sure I once had some... Somewhere in my past I feel like I once had some...

I found this poem online and loved it. I had to post it so that I will always have it for future reference. So sweet, and so true!

Before I was a Mom I made and ate hot meals.

I had unstained clothing.

I had quiet conversations on the phone.

Before I was a Mom I slept as late as I wanted

And never worried about how late I got into bed.

I brushed my hair and my teeth everyday.

Before I was a Mom, I cleaned my house each day.

I never tripped over toys or forgot words to lullabies.

Before I was a Mom, I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous.

I never thought about immunizations.

Before I was a Mom, I had never been pooped on,

Spit up on,

Chewed on,

Peed on,

Or pinched by tiny fingers.

Before I was a Mom, I had complete control of myself;

My thoughts, My body, And my mind.

I slept all night.

Before I was a Mom, I never held down a screaming child so that doctors could do tests or give shots.

I never looked into teary eyes and cried.

I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.

I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.

Before I was a Mom, I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put it down.

I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt.

I never knew something so small could affect my life so much.

I never knew that I could love someone so much.

I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom, I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.

I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.

I didn't know that bond between a Mother and her child.

I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important.

Before I was a Mom, I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every ten minutes to make sure all was okay.

I had never known the warmth,

The joy,

The love,

The heartache,

The wonderfulment,

Or the satisfaction of being a Mom.

I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much before I was a Mom.

- Unknown

As you can see from the photos, Erin and Zach have just finished their first science projects. It was exhausting. For me, not for them. I remember science projects being so much fun as a kid! What happened?? Oh yes. I know. I became the mom. And when your kids are only 7 and 8, the kids' science projects become the mom's science projects.

On the bright side, I really enjoyed spending time with the kids to get this done. Some of it was stressful time, granted. But I like spending time with them and I don't think I do it enough. Also, when I looked today at their posters, I noticed they both had THIRD PLACE RIBBONS on them!!! I didn't tell the kids. I wanted them to be surprised when they go look later with their class. But how exciting! They will be thrilled! They really did help me a lot. I have really great kids. :)

Wally has decided there are way too many pronouns in this world. To solve this crisis, he has eliminated he and his from his vocabulary. This morning he was chatting away to me about Richie.

"Yesterday I went and got him some guys and legos, and him was really happy and that made me happy too. I'm going to go get him some more when him is done with him cereal."

During Family Home Evening this week, he said something like, "Him can't do it." We all lightly laughed and smiled. Scott gently corrected him. "He can't do it." "No. Him can't do it." "No. HE." "No. HIM."

Like I said, it doesn't matter what is grammatically correct. There are just too many pronouns, and come hell or high water, he will fix this problem. Excuse me, I meant, him will fix this problem.

I love being a mother. Not all the time of course, but overall, I love it. Just a few days ago, after having been very onery to everyone for two days straight, I broke down and started bawling to Scott about how I don't feel like I do anything for myself. Everything I do is for someone else, and I was tired and I just wanted some time for ME. Not one of my best days. :) But I'm doing better now, and it reminded me that I do need to make sure I squeeze in time for myself between Russell's feedings and preparing meals and changing diapers and trips to the dentist and reading picture books and teaching piano and stopping fights and trips to the doctor and washing dishes and folding laundry and going grocery shopping and bathing the kids and picking up toys and making beds and occasionally showering... :) So I am writing in my blog today. It is my laundry day. I have at least five loads to get through today. Also, I have dishes piled overflowing in my sink and covering my countertops and an empty dishwasher just waiting to be filled (thanks to my sweet Scott who unloaded it this morning) because yesterday I decided to make homemade cinnamon rolls instead of doing the dishes which were already piled up but soon became completely unmanageable. It's the times that I am behind that I feel the greatest need to spend time for me. I hate to feel overwhelmed and like I am not on top of things....

Ok, so back to my original comment. I love being a mother. My good mom has been emailing out some of her journal entries from when she was a new mother, and they have made me laugh out loud and sometimes cry. I have really been noticing the hilarious things my kids do since then and I wanted to write some of them down.

I have been teaching Erin piano for quite awhile now, and she is very gifted musically and I can tell she likes to play. But because I am her mother, she is very dramatic whenever I ask her to practice. She falls to the floor and begins crying or stomps her feet all the way the piano where she proceeds to jump up and down as loudly as she can. Even writing this makes me totally laugh, which is usually what I do to her until I finally add extra chores to her list or send her to her room. She is so dramatic. I love her to death. Anyway, she especially hates her Technic book because it's just boring finger exercises. When I told her to practice the other day, she cried, "I HATE Technic!!! If there is anything in this world I could destroy it would be Technic!!!" This is what she wrote on her piano book. I got very upset with her and she erased it, but I still want to share because it made me laugh. "ERIN HATES THIS! P.S. she's not egzadgrating!" I love it. She loves to use big words. A few days ago, I went downstairs where she had been taking a shower. She was sitting wrapped in her towel with a very tear-stained face. She had started crying because she was upset with me for making her take a shower. But soon it changed to crying because she said she realized all I did for her and how sad she would be if I died. I held her until she began to feel better. She has so many strong emotions inside her. I told Scott it's strange for me to watch her because I remember doing those same things as a child. She is so much like me it's freaky. She wrote in her journal that night that "Me and mom were very affectionate tonight." So sweet.

Zachie is such an individual. I think his goal in life is to make people laugh. I admit it can get annoying as a parent, but he really is so sweet and plays so well with his little brothers. They follow him around as soon as he gets home from school and he is always willing to play with them, usually whatever they want. He and Wally just play together for hours and hours. He wrote me this note and gave it to me after Sacrament meeting last week. I retained the spelling. "To: Mom & Dad. For my Birthday i want my sims agents, a remot control air plane, idyana jons 2 (Indiana Jones), the nwe (new) starwars, a sled, a snow bord, a pet dog, a pet mous, and some nwe close (new clothes). thank you! love Zach." I just had to laugh. What a list. I got the feeling he wanted to include everything he could possibly think of at the time just to be on the safe side. I love his notes. He writes them for me all the time. The other day he asked me if he could run away. I said no. He asked if he could just pretend to run away. I said as long as he didn't leave the house. So he gathered up all his stuff in a big box, gave me a runaway note, and went downstairs. It was so adorable. His note said that he was running away, but not to worry because he would be fine. He then added that he would just be around the block if we ever wanted to visit. And to "please come visit." It was so cute.

Wally is growing up so much. I put him to work all the time around the house while the kids are at school. And he almost always does whatever I ask. At least ten times a day, he randomly comes up to me and says, "I love you, mom." It is one thing about him I will always always remember. I love that he says that to me all the time. It melts my heart. He is also a very tough, very headstrong, very perfectionist little guy. I see a lot of myself in him too. Yesterday one of my piano students came to the door and knocked. Richie and Wally both ran to answer it. (This happens A LOT at my house) Neither one wanted to relinquish their hold on the doorknob and Wally did NOT want to share. So finally I helped and opened the door to let my poor student in from the freezing rain. Richie ran off to play, and Wally lost all control. He threw himself onto the ground kicking and screaming. I think I put him in his room about 8 times. Each time he came out, he would say amidst his screaming and crying, "Mom. Mom. I want to talk to you." I kept saying I would love to talk to him but he needed to stop throwing a fit first. He would then throw a bigger fit and I would follow him to his room. He didn't want me to touch him, so he would just run to his room every time I approached him. I am trying to do a piano lesson through all of this, by the way. So finally he comes out and is still crying but calm enough to talk to me. He says that he will share with Richie and that he wants the piano student to go back outside so they can let her in. I offer to go out and ring the doorbell instead. But no, it has to be her. She gracefully agreed to do so and went out to ring the doorbell. He also won't open it alone. He wants to "share" with Richie. So we go off to find Richie, and together, they open the door. Then he is happy and good as an angel. He just had to make things right. He couldn't be satisfied until he had fixed the problem exactly as it should be fixed. Very much my little perfectionist.

Richie came up to me yesterday and gave me a big hug and then just started kissing and kissing my hand. It was so adorable. He has started saying "why" to everything Scott and I say. Eventually I run out of reasons and just change the subject, but it seems Scott never tires of it and always comes up with another reason. Richie ADORES Scott. He wakes up asking for his daddy and complains that he wants daddy to do it when I change his diaper. He is always the first to come running and screaming when Scott gets home at night. It is so sweet to watch. And every night in the early morning hours, he comes crawling into bed to cuddle with his daddy.

Russell is the happiest baby I have ever seen. All of my babies have been pretty good, but he is amazing. He sleeps 6-9 hours every night. Six hours is a bad night. Usually it's 8 or 9. And he loves his pacifier so he's always so easy to console. He laughs and smiles at me whenever we make eye contact. Whenever I sing, he gets really excited and laughs and kicks his feet like crazy. If I am holding him and talking to someone, they always randomly start talking and playing with him because he laughs and smiles at them, thinking they are talking to him. He loves interaction. The other kids LOVE him. Erin picks him up and carries him all over the place. This morning Zach, Wally, and Richie were eating breakfast and I brought Russell in to say good morning. They all started cooing and talking to Russell, and Russell laughed and talked back to them. It made me cry. My four little boys. They are all so good, and I love that they love each other. And that's what made me decide today to write this post. I love being a mother.

I love Christmas! The Christmas trees, the gift giving, the lights, the songs. It's all magical, and I love it! This year for Christmas, Scott and I decided to give our neighbors a framed picture of Jesus Christ, a Book of Mormon, and our written testimonies. They have been wonderful friends to us for several years. We love them. After writing our testimonies down, I felt prompted to share them with more than just our neighbors -- I wanted to share them with anyone who reads my blog (which is basically our family). What better time to share our testimonies of Christ than at Christmas? So here are Scott's and my testimonies that we shared with our good neighbors. May we all remember the reason for the season. Merry Christmas!!

SHANNON

I was raised in the LDS faith by two wonderful parents, and from a young age, I gained a firm belief of who our Father in Heaven was, who Jesus Christ was, and who I was -- a child of God. But then a period of my life came where I lost that faith, not just of my religion, but of all religion. I began to doubt even myself and my divine nature. I came to a point where I had to know, one way or another, whether Jesus Christ lived or not, whether there was a purpose to my existence or not, and if the faith I had as a child was true. I began to pray. My first prayer at this point in my life was very difficult. I felt silly kneeling down and speaking to a God I did not know even existed. But I was willing to try because my desire to know was strong. My answer did not come with that first prayer. But I continued to pray daily, and I also read the scriptures daily. One day as I was praying, I felt very warm inside, like someone was hugging me tightly with so much love. As I sat there crying, I knew Heavenly Father had spoken to me. I didn't have all my questions answered, but I knew Heavenly Father was real and He loved me.

I believe in the power of personal revelation and that each person can receive direct communication from Heavenly Father in their effort to find truth. I believe Heavenly Father knows each of us personally and that He loves us individually. I believe each of us on Earth is a child of God. I believe Joseph Smith was a prophet of God and that he saw Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I believe there is also a prophet on Earth today, and his name is Thomas S. Monson. I believe the Holy Bible is the word of God. I also believe the Book of Mormon is true, and it is the word of God. This book truly testifies of Jesus Christ and His divinity. I believe families can be -- and are meant to be -- together forever when they are sealed together with the proper authority in one of the Lord's holy temples. I believe in our Savior, Jesus Christ, that He was born in a lowly stable, and that angels appeared on Earth to proclaim His birth. I believe He was the Son of God, that he lived a perfect life, and most especially, that He suffered in Gethsemane and died on the cross for each of us, individually, so that each of us could repent of our sins and someday return again to live with our Father in Heaven and be as He is. I have felt my Heavenly Father speak peace and truth to my heart many times. I know He is real.

SCOTT

Because of the love I feel towards you and the feelings I have about the gospel of Jesus Christ, I want to share them with you. First off, I love my Savior, Jesus Christ. I know that He lived and died so that I can repent and be forgiven for mistakes that I have made and for ones that I will continue to make. I know that He wants us to try to be better and so we have a church that helps us do that. I know that the authority to act in God's name (the Priesthood) is real and can only be found in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. With that authority we can be blessed, baptized, and receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. I know that with that authority we can also be married (sealed) for time and all eternity. I have prayed about Joseph Smith being a prophet and I have felt the truthfulness of that. Through those feelings, I can say that I know Joseph Smith is and was a prophet of God. God's church and priesthood were restored through the prophet Joseph Smith. I have read the Book of Mormon many times and I have prayed about its truthfulness as well. I know the Book of Mormon is other scripture from our Heavenly Father. I continue to read and pray, and I continue to feel that I am going in the right path. Thank you for letting me share these most precious feelings of mine with you.