Jacob turned in his first real book report this week. All of the information was on the back of the poster. I think he did a great job! You can't see it very well, but his favorite part of the book is when the kids climb a palace wall following a hologram of a snake...
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Snakes and Stuff
Saturday, October 16, 2010
"If you chance to meet a frown..."
Soccer Camp
Jacob and Zach attended a free soccer camp last night for an hour. They'll be going again next week too. Savannah was really bummed because she was supposed to be participating also, but can't with her broken finger. They had a great time and are excited to go back. I think the boys will probably be doing a soccer league in the spring.


Sunday, October 10, 2010
First Fracture
Yesterday morning I was gone and apparently Savannah fell off her bed while playing and landed on her pinky finger. I didn't know anything was wrong until later.
At the Marathon Kids Kick-Off I kept trying to hold her hand and she was freaking out that her finger hurt. I thought she was just complaining about a little hangnail or something so I just took her other hand. She kept complaining about it off and on throughout the day. She was also really weepy all day long, crying tons and eventually took a nap. Finally in the evening I told her to go clean up some toys. She bumped her hand on something and started sobbing. I finally looked closer and saw that her finger and hand was bruised and pretty swollen. Then I felt bad that I hadn't looked at it closer earlier in the day. Dallin and I decided to take her to Urgent Care to make sure it wasn't broken. The regular Urgent Care was closed so I took her to an off-site Emergency Room. It's basically exactly the same as the ER, just not attached to a hospital. And hardly crowded at all. By then I had iced her finger for a little while so the bruising looked a little better.
They took X-rays and told us that it was just a sprain. She'd need to wear a splint for a few days.
The ER just called me back today though (Sunday, the next day) and said that the radiologist took a closer look. There is a tiny fracture at the base of her finger. Luckily she doesn't need a cast or anything. She just has to wear the splint for 2-3 weeks. Then we have to take her in to the pediatrician and have another X-ray. I'm so glad it's on her left hand, since she's right-handed. I think it's amazing that I have 4 boys who have never been to the ER, but my little girl has already been twice.
At the Marathon Kids Kick-Off I kept trying to hold her hand and she was freaking out that her finger hurt. I thought she was just complaining about a little hangnail or something so I just took her other hand. She kept complaining about it off and on throughout the day. She was also really weepy all day long, crying tons and eventually took a nap. Finally in the evening I told her to go clean up some toys. She bumped her hand on something and started sobbing. I finally looked closer and saw that her finger and hand was bruised and pretty swollen. Then I felt bad that I hadn't looked at it closer earlier in the day. Dallin and I decided to take her to Urgent Care to make sure it wasn't broken. The regular Urgent Care was closed so I took her to an off-site Emergency Room. It's basically exactly the same as the ER, just not attached to a hospital. And hardly crowded at all. By then I had iced her finger for a little while so the bruising looked a little better.
They took X-rays and told us that it was just a sprain. She'd need to wear a splint for a few days.Marathon Kids 2010 Kick-Off
Yesterday the older kids and I went to the Marathon Kids Kick-Off. It's a free program they do every year here in Austin. The kids keep track and run a marathon, or 26.2 miles between now and February. Then at the Finale Celebration they get a medal. I knew Connor would have fun so I brought him along too. They were passing out free bandanas, which Savannah & Jacob thought were pretty cool.
Seussical Musical
Zach had his 2nd Grade Musical on Tuesday evening. It was all songs with a Dr. Seuss theme. He did a great job!
Baby Belly
Sunday, October 3, 2010
I am Mormon
My friend posted this on her blog today. With her permission I'm posting it here because I just loved it. I think it sums up how I feel about being Mormon. I'm so blessed to have the gospel in my life.
"I am Mormon.
Being Mormon means praying. It means praying at stop lights, at the grocery store, during soccer games and kneeling on the floor of a messing toy room surrounded by your family. It means praying so long, you forget where you began and where you ended. It is prayers offered in Tagalog, sign language, and Russian. And knowing that Heavenly Father hears you all the same.
Being Mormon means 19 year old boys, far away at the ends of the earth. They are sitting in white washed rooms, in cinder block houses, some with flooring, some without, sharing their testimonies and eating fried cockroaches. They are flung to far corners of the planet, to places few have ever heard of, where they speak the native language and write home about having tap worm and hand washing their own clothes in a small creek.
Being Mormon means your wedding isn’t at a drive-through chapel with Elvis. It’s a spiritual ceremony with quiet laughter and streaming tears in a holy temple with spires piercing the heavens. It means wedding receptions where the finest thing may be waxy chocolates and sparkling punch and a basket ball hoop covered in balloons and streamers. But it's heaven and means eternity.
Being Mormon means not knowing exactly how many children Heavenly Father would like you to have, but being terrifyingly open to it all the same.
It means loving those children. Baring them one by one, and then settling into your family structure, at last, like a comfortable chair. It means growing with your family, mellowing with the years until your children become your greatest offering to God. With a prayer, you place them on the altar, step back, and realize they are your life's work.
Being Mormon means funerals where the meal afterwards (the ham and funeral potatoes, lime jello and mint brownies) are as much anticipated as the stories told and songs sung, remembering your grandpa, your baby niece, your dear friend, now gone. But you know you will see them again, and along with hugs from everyone in your ward family, somehow, that helps.
Being Mormon means singing. Singing in a choir, in a congregation, at the top of your lungs or whispered hums in a baby’s ear. Songs that teach you the heart of what you believe. And you carry them with you as truth, flung over your shoulders ready to rescue you from dark and sad places.
Being Mormon means taking steps from darkness into light. It means taking your heavy heart to Christ and sharing it with him. Letting it go. It is the Atonement and forgiveness. It means service, even when you'd rather not make another casserole or be a nursery worker when you have 2 children already in there. You do it because you love Him and in truth, it is your privilege.
Being Mormon means falling asleep reading the scriptures more times than you'll ever admit. But knowing they are there, all the same, to wrap you in comfort and sanity.
It means Joseph Smith, the sacred grove, the visiting angels, and The Book of Mormon. It means finding out for yourself one dark night while kneeling. Knowing it was real. Knowing that it's true.
For every Mormon there is on this beautiful earth, there is a different growing up in the gospel experience. The flavor that gives to an individual’s testimony is unique every time. But it is all real and true. It is all of us.
I am Mormon. It is who I am."
-R. Jacobs-
"I am Mormon.
Being Mormon means praying. It means praying at stop lights, at the grocery store, during soccer games and kneeling on the floor of a messing toy room surrounded by your family. It means praying so long, you forget where you began and where you ended. It is prayers offered in Tagalog, sign language, and Russian. And knowing that Heavenly Father hears you all the same.
Being Mormon means 19 year old boys, far away at the ends of the earth. They are sitting in white washed rooms, in cinder block houses, some with flooring, some without, sharing their testimonies and eating fried cockroaches. They are flung to far corners of the planet, to places few have ever heard of, where they speak the native language and write home about having tap worm and hand washing their own clothes in a small creek.
Being Mormon means your wedding isn’t at a drive-through chapel with Elvis. It’s a spiritual ceremony with quiet laughter and streaming tears in a holy temple with spires piercing the heavens. It means wedding receptions where the finest thing may be waxy chocolates and sparkling punch and a basket ball hoop covered in balloons and streamers. But it's heaven and means eternity.
Being Mormon means not knowing exactly how many children Heavenly Father would like you to have, but being terrifyingly open to it all the same.
It means loving those children. Baring them one by one, and then settling into your family structure, at last, like a comfortable chair. It means growing with your family, mellowing with the years until your children become your greatest offering to God. With a prayer, you place them on the altar, step back, and realize they are your life's work.
Being Mormon means funerals where the meal afterwards (the ham and funeral potatoes, lime jello and mint brownies) are as much anticipated as the stories told and songs sung, remembering your grandpa, your baby niece, your dear friend, now gone. But you know you will see them again, and along with hugs from everyone in your ward family, somehow, that helps.
Being Mormon means singing. Singing in a choir, in a congregation, at the top of your lungs or whispered hums in a baby’s ear. Songs that teach you the heart of what you believe. And you carry them with you as truth, flung over your shoulders ready to rescue you from dark and sad places.
Being Mormon means taking steps from darkness into light. It means taking your heavy heart to Christ and sharing it with him. Letting it go. It is the Atonement and forgiveness. It means service, even when you'd rather not make another casserole or be a nursery worker when you have 2 children already in there. You do it because you love Him and in truth, it is your privilege.
Being Mormon means falling asleep reading the scriptures more times than you'll ever admit. But knowing they are there, all the same, to wrap you in comfort and sanity.
It means Joseph Smith, the sacred grove, the visiting angels, and The Book of Mormon. It means finding out for yourself one dark night while kneeling. Knowing it was real. Knowing that it's true.
For every Mormon there is on this beautiful earth, there is a different growing up in the gospel experience. The flavor that gives to an individual’s testimony is unique every time. But it is all real and true. It is all of us.
I am Mormon. It is who I am."
-R. Jacobs-
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