many, many thanks

Yesterday I went to the elementary school to register the boys for Kindergarten. To say that I was having a bad day would be an understatement. I'm an emotional wreck these days (yea, watch out). I ran into one of my favorite neighbors, Amber Miller. I think she could see I wasn't doing great. She was there with two of her kids, one of which is a brand-new baby. She had finished filling out the paperwork for her daughter and offered to sit down with me and fill out one of my boys' stuff while she did the other for me. I was so grateful I cried and then cried some more. Amber - you are GREAT!
That is just one example of how nice people have been to me the past few weeks. If you ever want to know how many friends you have, get a hysterectomy! Thanks to everyone who has helped out with my kids, made us yummy food, called, sent a note, listened to my cry, hosted a ward party in my absence.... Honestly, I feel so blessed. Blessed to tears. Many tears. Many, many tears.
I started making a list of everyone I need to send a thank you card to and the list is so long it's going to be a while before they all get written and sent. In the meantime, THANK YOU!!!

Ding dong....

Just in case you thought it was all doom and gloom in my life and I'd lost my edge as a blogger, I've written a song for you about the very happy day I'm having. Remember in the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy's house falls on the wicked witch of the East and all the munchkins sang? Well, think of that tune....
Ding dong, the pigs are gone! Which old pigs? The guinea pigs!
Ding dong, the guinea pigs are gone!!
Wake up you lazy pigs, rub your eyes, get out of your (urine-drenched) bed.
Wake up, you're going on a ride! You're going where the rabid dogs go!
Let's hope it doesn't end up with Euthanasia, yo-ho!
Let's open up and air the place out, clean and disinfect!
Ding dong the merry-oh, sing it high, sing it low.
Let them know the guinea pigs are gone!
Yea, I know my songwriting skills aren't quite Taylor Swift yet, but I like to think maybe I'm onto a more Bob Dylan vibe, everyday America thing.
The important thing here is that we are back to being a one pet household with out any more Pet Cemetery shenanigans.

sad

I've had a hard time over the last couple of months. You know that saying 'be careful what you wish for because you might just get it all'? It's been slowly dawning on me that perhaps I got most of what I set out to get. Growing up, all I ever wanted to do was get married, move to a house with a big yard (maybe we didn't quite get the yard I had in mind) and have lots of babies. I wanted to be able to check the box that said "homemaker" when asked about my employment status. This was the goal all along. I've been darting around town with my hubby, puppy and babies in our minivan in suburbia thinking I'd already arrived.
Last fall my gynecologist called and informed that I had pre-cancerous cervical cells. After a few months of tests and waiting and more tests and more waiting I had a hysterectomy last Monday. I had no idea just how hard this whole thing was going to be.
Then a letter arrived from the elementary school informing me of the registration information I need to prepare so the boys could start Kindergarten in the fall. I obviously have known for years now when they would begin school but it just hit me in the gut that my baby boys will ride the bus and be gone half the day. Cameron will be gone the entire day and the boys will be gone 4 hours a day. Normally there would be some sort of celebration with caffeine involved but I'm still feeling sad.
My days of having crazy toddlers to entertain are going too fast now. I want time to stop and just stay here because I never planned beyond this part. Even though we've been through our struggles, I truly believe that I've gotten everything and I'm so grateful. But now I need a new wish, dream, goal or inspiration. What should I do now?

Home

My grandma Mickey passed away yesterday. I feel like anything I say on this blog wouldn't do justice to describe just how much I love her and how wonderful she is. Because both my parents worked, I spent every single day at Grandma and Grandpa's house from the time I was born till I was in the first grade. Their house was more of a home than anywhere else I've ever lived. Tucked away on a private lane, literally over the river and through the woods.
My grandma always tried to make an artist out of me. That never did pan out but she was able to teach me a love of poetry. For lack of anything else to say, I want to share this poem that reminds me of Grandma Mickey.

Home
by Edgar A. Guest

It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home,
A heap o' sun an' shadder, an' ye sometimes have t' roam
Afore ye really 'preciate the things ye lef' behind,
An' hunger fer 'em somehow, with 'em allus on yer mind.
It don't make any differunce how rich ye get t' be,
How much yer chairs an' tables cost, how great yer luxury;
It ain't home t' ye, though it be the palace of a king,
Until somehow yer soul is sort o' wrapped round everything.

Home ain't a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute;
Afore it's home there's got t' be a heap o' livin' in it;
Within the walls there's got t' be some babies born, and then
Right there ye've got t' bring 'em up t' women good, an' men;
And gradjerly as time goes on, ye find ye wouldn't part
With anything they ever used—they've grown into yer heart:
The old high chairs, the playthings, too, the little shoes they wore
Ye hoard; an' if ye could ye'd keep the thumb-marks on the door.

Ye've got t' weep t' make it home, ye've got t' sit an' sigh
An' watch beside a loved one's bed, an' know that Death is nigh;
An' in the stillness o' the night t' see Death's angel come,
An' close the eyes o' her that smiled, an' leave her sweet voice dumb.
Fer these are scenes that grip the heart, an'when yer tears are dried,
Ye find the home is dearer than it was, an' sanctified;
An' tuggin' at ye always are the pleasant memories
O' her that was an' is no more—ye can't escape from these.

Ye've got t' sing an' dance fer years, ye've got t' romp an' play,
An' learn t' love the things ye have by usin' 'em each day;
Even the roses 'round the porch must blossom year by year
Afore they 'come a part o' ye, suggestin' someone dear
Who used t' love 'em long ago, an' trained 'em jes t' run
The way they do, so's they would get the early mornin' sun;
Ye've got t' love each brick an' stone from cellar up t' dome:
It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home.