I have so much to update this blog with, but I feel like I can't do that until I write a few words about Meggie's funeral. They held it on Saturday, July 14th in the stake center because so many people wanted to attend and honor the woman we all loved. The Porters put together a beautiful meeting and shared stories about Meggie.  Although it was sad to say goodbye, they lifted us all with their words of faith. I have always loved the Porters, but I have never been so proud of their friendship.

The weeks following her death, our little family spent packing, moving and driving all over the West and Midwestern states. As much as I loathed the job, it was a great distraction. I couldn't breakdown because James and the boys needed me to hold it together. But now that all the boxes are nearly unpacked and the chaos is starting to settle, I find myself missing her more than ever before. I started missing Mehgan even before she died, and although I wanted her to be free from pain, I now feel the loneliness of her absence so powerfully that some days my little heart just wants to break. I know she is in a better place and I know that I will see her again; it's just hard to accept how far away that reunion will be. But, as Elder Maxwell said, "Faith in God includes faith in his timing." It is as it should be, even if I don't understand it all right now.

Earlier last week I had a reminder of that when I was feeling particularly low about missing my friend. I had been  having so much fun here in Kansas but realized again that I couldn't share it with Meggie. That night I left James in charge of bedtime and headed out for a stroll around campus. (On a side note, all Summer long our little family has been trying to spot a skunk because our little men took such a fancy to these stinky furry friends and we thought it would be neat to see one in the wild). Even though we saw all sorts of skunks sleeping on the side of the road (read "dead"), none of us saw the real thing until last week when James spotted two little skunks wrestling near his vet building on campus. So in my sorry state I wandered up to his vet building in hopes that I would see something cute and furry to lift my spirits.

I waited and waited and nothing came. The night grew dark and the cicadas buzzed, but no little black and white friend came to my rescue. So I started praying. I told Heavenly Father how much I missed my Mehgan and how sad I am that I don't get to have her with me on this earth to grow old with. I told Him how sad I was the my little men will not get to have her around as an aunt and godmother while they grow up and that I can't share all my happy and sad moments with her and hear her say, "Oh Mali-Pali" again. My burden felt lighter the longer I prayed but I still felt alone. Then just as I was finishing up, I told Heavenly Father how bummed I was that I didn't get to see those skunks and how much I wanted to see them. 

As I finished up and turned to leave, across the lawn in the shadows I noticed a small creature shuffling along. As I looked closer, I realized that it was a small striped skunk rooting around the grass! I don't know what I was expecting, but this little fella was so tiny and cute I could hardly believe it! The longer I stood there, the closer he came until I was just about fifteen feet away from the little guy! Finally, after I took about a trillion poor-quality cell phone pictures, he had enough and scampered under a rock to free himself from his #1 fan. But fifteen minutes was all that I needed to be reminded that Heavenly Father loves his children and that all things will work together for our good.

For whatever reason, Meggie's time here on earth was shorter than we expected. But I do know that that it will be for the best in the end if we all keep trusting in our Heavenly Father's plan. How grateful I am that our Savior made it possible for us to overcome death and sin so that we can be reunited again.

As one with a soft spot for all living creatures, Meggie would have LOVED this little guy!

Beavers

Today our little family hiked up Logan Canyon to a beaver dam in a beautiful meadow. What a treat! You may not know this, but few things make me happier than beavers. I love everything about them! My men amused me by happily exploring around the beaver dam and pond for much longer than any normal person would probably wish. 

The excursion reminded me of a beaver moment that I experienced about five years ago when I was pregnant with Mason. That particular day I was feeling all sorts of negative and anxious emotions about the upcoming changes that were about to take place in our family. I felt overwhelmed with the responsibility of becoming a mother and I already felt tired by the stress of it all. James, knowing that I needed to be cheered, took me to one of our favorite spots on Utah lake. I was especially fond of this area because not only was it pretty, but we had also spotted a few beaver friends there in the past. Along the dirt frontage road we walked while our dogs explored, but I still felt low.

While we walked and talked, I scanned the water for beavers. Without really thinking I prayed that I would get to see a little beaver friend but as soon as I realized what I was doing, I felt a little foolish and quickly added that of course He didn't have to. I was feeling so small and insignificant that in that moment, couldn't imagine Heavenly Father caring if I saw a beaver.

On we walked for the next while. However, when we were almost done and I still hadn't seen a beaver, I silently used it as proof that I really was as insignificant as I had been feeling. But before I climbed into our car, James said, "Look Malinda, a beaver!" I hadn't told James how much seeing a beaver would mean to me that day but Heavenly Father knew. As I watched that little beaver swim, I was struck so strongly once again that Heavenly Father knew me and cared about me was ever aware of my concerns. I was special to him and because of that, I knew that everything would be okay. He was in charge and He loved me.

People have asked me why I love beavers so much. I honestly don't know why I first became enamored, but I do know that because of this little tender mercy, I am especially fond of them because they remind me of my relationship with my Heavenly Father.

                    We didn't see any beavers today but that's okay. I was already feeling pretty blessed.

Saturday McCabey and I went on a run while James had the other boys help him with a scouting activity. Since McCabe's coat was in the car with James, I riffled through our coat closet for an alternative and found this little red number that he has since outgrown. As you can see, Baby Cabe was thrilled with how manly I made him look. Since we are moving soon-ish, we have started getting rid of things that we no longer will need and as I took these pictures of McCabe, I felt a little melancholy knowing that this would be the last time I would see him in his gnome-wear.

 It dawned on me today that I have three little boys. I have been well aware of their gender this whole time but what baffles me is how they are all little boys now and not babies. All three are safe on stairs. All three eat solid foods. All three face forward in their car seats, and all three run around and play with each other and get into all sorts of mischief. The last little while I had been feeling much more content with only being able to have children but now that McCabe is creeping away from baby-hood, the reality of our small family size is hitting me again. I know I should be feeling just fine with my men but since I came from a family of seven kids, three feels like it could get lonely too fast. No matter how blessed we are, when something doesn't meet our expectations it is easy to wonder.

But then I am reminded of the scripture in Mormon 5: 23 that reads: "Know ye not that he are in the hands of God? Know ye not that he hath all power..." It brings peace to know that whatever our situation and whoever we are, we are in the hands of a loving Heavenly Father who knows what is best for us and wants us to be happy. If we keep trusting and keep looking for His hand in all things, I know that we will be.

Why am I so quick to feel robbed when I have this little munchkin to dote on? I am already far more blessed than I ever could have dreamed.

Some of our normal day life

A day ago I worked on a project for the town's annual Pumpkin Walk with my neighbor across the street. Her youngest is now seven and her oldest girls are in college. While we worked, we talked about her busy schedule of taking her children to various activities day in and day out. It caused me to reflect on the moments that make up our days in the Sieg home.

Watch our for Mr. Muscles!

The other afternoon, while the little boys took an afternoon snooze, Mason asked if we could go out front to try to catch some grasshoppers. That day it was on the brink of snowing so we were sure to wear our coats. This meant that he wore his coat and I wore my old, frumpy, over-sized ski jacket over my most comfortable cleaning/stay at home dress (that James calls my fiesta-wear mumu since it has a little flava) and apron. I figured that since it was so cold we would only be out a brief moment and therefore it wasn't necessary to get all dolled up (meaning brush my teeth and put on mascara). As we stepped out our front door, we were met by two young maintenance men coming to check our furnace. I. about. DIED! I mean, I had no intention of trying to woo one of them, but COME ON! A girl's got to have some shred of dignity!!!!!

~~~~~

Yesterday the boys and I accompanied Mason to a doctors appointment. Before we left the house, Charlie became incredibly fond of a towel and made it quite clear that there was no way he was going anywhere without it. Since I am learning to pick my battles with that little man, I gave him the green light. So we walked through the parking lot and into the doctors office with Char and his full-sized bathroom towel hanging over his shoulder and dragging behind him. As we walked, people smiled and stared. Our friendly Charlie couldn't have been more pleased as he honked (his "hi" comes out sounding sort of like a goose honk) his hello's to his new friends.

~~~~~

Mason told us the other day that there is a particular tree in our front yard that he is especially fond of since it is where he pees behind when he is outside playing. I wonder how our neighbors feel about that?

~~~~~

McCabriel Bottoms is really showing us his personality these days. He is as mild as a mouse and as happy as a clam. He is still smitten by his brothers, but more than anything, he seems to be quite taken with toilet water of late.

~~~~~

Almost without fail, Mason comes into James and my room after waking up in the middle of each night. It is to the point that I make up a little bed for him on the floor before James and I hit the hay so that I don't have to do it in the dark.

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The boys and I called my dad the other day to hear him sing a song that I thought was particularly witty in my youth. The lyrics are: "In the valley, yoo-hoo! There's a dead cow, pee-you! That brings back sweet memories of you!" Ever since, our family sings it around the house. Even in the grumpiest of moods, our boys can't resist chiming in and trying to beat us to the punch by inserting our names at the end. Charlie get's so excited, in fact, that even moments after starting the song, he interrupts us with a proud, "POPPY!!!" Does comedy get any better than songs about stinking?

~~~~~

McCabe now stands while holding on to things. When we have music playing in our house (like when our boy's request a dance party) he be-bops those flat little cheeks with the best of them!

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At church on Sunday, we foolishly gave Charlie and Mason those candy corn pumpkin candies to try to keep them quiet in sacrament meeting. We thought it was working well until Charlie spat out the orange candy and spit that he had been hording in his mouth all over me! We were both covered with orange goo for the rest of church. Of course, when I got to class, I found our Primary President and her camera, wanting to take a picture of our class.

~~~~~

Mason will randomly come up to us and ask if we want to snuggle-buggle with him.

Our days are slow moving, sometimes boring and often slightly embarrassing, but I know I will miss these days....and my fiesta-wear mumu.

Bones and Birthmarks

Pictures taken from the beginning of the Summer

This evening, for the first time, I noticed that Baby Cabey had a birthmark on his calf. It is fainter than his brothers but it is there just the same. That means that all three of our boys inherited my birthmark gene. All three. That is amazing, given the fact that each boy had a 50% chance of getting my brittle bone disease (Osteogenesis Imperfecta) and not a single one did.  (On a statistical side note, the odds of having three healthy kids is only 12.5%).  All three are strong-boned boys like their pops. That is a miracle!

My whole life I have been told that I should never have children because the risk of them having to spend a life in pain was too high. And now here we are with three busy, healthy boys who don't have to worry about breaking while they jump wildly around the house and wrestle together (I worry enough for all three of them anyway). I have been blessed beyond my wildest dreams! 

Lately I have been feeling "poor baby me-ish" about not being able to have any more children. I love my three boys, but I want more! And no girls?! That is just painful. I know I have a baby already (two of them, really) and shouldn't be hungry for more, but I've been having a hard time shaking it. My pangs for another baby are highest when I have fresh in my memory how wonderful having a baby around really is. So instead of enjoying the three little miracles I already have, I have been grumping around wishing for another one. How pathetic. Tonight was a good reminder of how foolish that is. Heavenly Father is in charge and I sure am glad.

Life is good

Mason, on his bike. When we got him this new helmet, he joyfully said, "I am so grateful it isn't red!" It's all about the little things with Mason.

Yesterday evening our little family headed out for a family stroll to a nearby park that Mason calls "The Tractor Park." Mason biked happily along while the other boys reclined lazily in our stroller. The weather was warm, there were horses to pet on our way, and we had a ball playing on slides and digging tunnels in the sand. In every way, it was the perfect way to end the day.

At one point, while I watched my men play, I couldn't help but reflect on the first time we visited this park. It came on one of the very worst and hopeless days of my pregnancy-just before I was officially placed on bed rest. The boys and I were so lonely that we risked going into labor to attend a play group at the pumpkin exhibit that was being held at that very park. I thought that it wouldn't be too hard, but it ended with Charlie nearly freezing, a MAJOR tantrum from Mason and a pathetic meltdown from Mommy. I was in so much pain, so lonely, and so overwhelmed. It was hard.

Now McCabe is nearly six months and Summer has kicked in. What a difference time makes! It really does heal all wounds. Life is wonderful but it definitely has it's ups and downs. It is good to remember that if we are patient, no matter how dark a moment is, it eventually becomes only a memory and good times are sure to follow.  They always do and they always will. Perspective truly is everything.

First of the Lasts

Grandma Vance giving baby Cabe a tasty bottle during his first week home.

 When we had Mason, I was only able to nurse him for four months. We realized that his nursing was most likely leaching too much calcium from my already brittle bones and was probably why I broke my back. He didn't mind the switch and quickly grew plump on formula. Charlie lasted a little longer until little McCabe came along and dried up my milk supply at six months. Again, he took to formula like a champ and welcomed the calories! Apparently he was sick of starving. Last week I hurt my back again and the pain became reminiscent of what I felt after having Mason. For that reason, James and I decided that it would be best to stop nursing McCabe now before it hurt me too much. As much as I believe in breast milk, I think it is more important that I can hold my babies.

To be honest, I didn't mind the thought of switching to formula too much. In my experience, after I stop breastfeeding, I finally feel like me again and that is a nice feeling to have! Yesterday, however, it hit me that not only would I stop breastfeeding McCabe, but that it would also be the last time that I would ever breastfeed. Suddenly it really bothered me. It was the first of the lasts. The first time I experienced "the last time I will ever..." in regards to motherhood.

When we had little McCabe, my uterus was so thin that my doctor strongly encouraged us not to have another baby. Over the last two months, his advice slowly sunk in. No more pregnancies. No more c-sections. No more little versions of James. No more chances at having a little version of me. No more babies.

I know that I am already so blessed to have been able to have had three healthy and happy boys but I still feel robbed. Thankfully, there is a chance that someday our family might get the opportunity to adopt and that hope helps me and James feel much better. If that ever happens, that little one would be just as much ours as the three boys that we were physically able to bring into this world. However, since that chance is still unknown, right now I still feel the reality of my babies growing up and it makes my heart hurt. But to everything there is a season and I know that life just keeps getting better and better. Now on to the season of formula feeding where McCabe instantly is able to sleep through the night (12 hours. There are aspects of formula that I adore) and I get to welcome back me.

Another close call

Charlie, at the recent 4th of July parade
James' family has been in town this last week and we have been having a ball spending time with them. We have been trying to come up with all sorts of fun things to wow them on their trip. On Friday we decided to take them up to Logan to see our new home and explore the beautiful area. However, before we even got out of Salt Lake City, we noticed a little car lose control and hit a Ford Explorer. Within seconds, the driver of the Explorer over-corrected and then flipped their car five times. This all happened right in front of us. While James tried to brake, their car's bouncing and crushing took up our entire view and we all braced ourselves for the hit that would make us a part of the horrific accident. However, miraculously, that hit never came. Our truck stopped just before hitting their crushed vehicle. I called 911 and James rushed to the aid of the bloody victims. As it turned out, the SUV was full of two mothers with their kids double buckled in the back seat. The mothers were pretty beat up, but out of the four little ones, only one had even a small cut.

With Charlie and our niece Sophie safe in our truck with their grandma, James handed me a young boy Mason's age to hold and sooth while the paramedics came. For the next 40 plus minutes I sat in the rubble with my little friend and felt overwhelmed with gratitude for our safety, and the relative safety of this poor group of children.

Earlier in the week, I watched one of the Mormon Messages with exerpts from a talk by Elder Holland on motherhood. In that talk, he said, "Mothers, cherish that role that is so uniquely yours, and for which Heaven itself sends angels to watch over you and your little ones."

As a mother, I have already had enough experiences to gratefully believe that our little boys are watched over by angels on a daily basis. However, what happened this weekend reminded me of this truth. Our truck has never stopped so quickly. We should have hit them with so much force that we should have all been badly hurt. It reminded me of one of my favorite scriptures in the Book of Mormon that says, "Know ye not that ye are in the hands of God? Know ye not that he hath all Power?(Mormon 5:23)." What a blessing it is to know that we, and especially our little children, are watched over by such a mighty and loving Father in Heaven who knows just how to bless us.

Our Scary Mothers Day Eve

Our mothers day stroll today....a much safer and happier night than last.

Last night our little family stopped by a nearby grocery store to get some last minute food items for our Mothers day celebration. While we were buying our food at the self checkout kiosk in the front of the store (by the customer service desk where everything happened!!!!), someone started shooting a gun. Everywhere around us people were screaming but all we could think about were our boys and their safety. Because we were in a spot that was so vulnerable to everything and near enough to the exit, we grabbed our boys and ran. By the time the shots ended (there were about eight), we Siegs were out the door and making a break for our car. Earlier that week, I strained a muscle in my leg in attempts to get back in shape. However, when the gun started firing, I was able to carry Mason and sprint with the best of them. Adrenalin is an amazing thing!

Poor Mason was very scared by everything. It was clear that he new exactly what had happened even though we tried our best to pretend like everything was fairly normal. It broke our hearts to hear our little boy (who up until this point thought every new face was a friend) talk about the shooting. "He mean! Guns shooting at Mason! I hate them!" Even though we knew that we were physically safe, James and I were very concerned for our little boy not being too effected by this terrifying incident and were at a loss of what to do.

I can't relate exactly how out of control this shooting made me feel. In every way, when I was trying my best to take my boys to safety and then help Mason afterward, I felt inadequate. It is amazing how under prepared we parents really are to raise our little ones.We do our best to help them learn and grow, but really, we are just figuring it all out as we go along. This task can be so daunting! This experience has reminded me as a mother, how vital it is to stay close to the spirit. We might not know that to do, but Heavenly Father does. And he won't ever leave us to do this important task by ourselves.

Last week in church, one of my favorite people, Angie, talked about the miracle of Christ feeding the five thousand. She read to us from John chapter six (verses five through thirteen), when the little boy brings his five barley loaves and two small fish to help feed the hungry crowd. It reminded me of the scripture in the Book of Mormon, Alma 37:6-7, where it says that "...by small and simple things are great things brought to pass." There were probably more people there who had at least the same meager amount of food to offer up to the cause, but they didn't step forward. The small and simple boy did, and with his help, a miracle occurred.

I know that we mothers (and all women are mothers) can see miracles come about in the lives of our little ones if we continue to stay close to the Lord and use and teach the tools given to us through the atonement of Christ. Bad things will come and go but we can still succeed in helping our children become their potential. We don't need to beat ourselves up and feel guilty that we are not perfect or that we don't know everything. Our five barley loaves and two small fish are enough and to spare because of our Savior. "Sweet is the peace the Gospel brings..."

***For the story on what went down at Smiths, go here.

I am happy to report that I had my 16 week check up on Monday and all is well with the baby. I had been nervously awaiting the appointment for the past couple of weeks. Worried that there would be no heartbeat.

Some of you may know that we Siegs were pregnant last Summer. Everything seemed to be going well until we went in at 15 weeks and didn't hear the heartbeat that we hoped for. The baby had died a couple weeks previous but my body refused to give up the chance of renewing motherhood. I ended up having an emergency D and C several weeks after before it all was over. We were heartbroken.

I remember feeling all kinds of emotions when we heard the news. Remember having all kinds of thoughts. Was it my fault? Was I not excited enough? How did I not know? Several weeks after we found out that we would be joined with another little one, James gave me a blessing. In that blessing, I was told that this little baby would be a blessing to our family. After I miscarried, I wondered how that was possible. Now I am starting to understand.

In previous pregnancies, I rode an emotional roller coaster of fear and elation. I was happy about having a little one on the way, but was so nervous for the C-section and everything that goes along with that. I spent so much of the pregnancy worried about myself that I forgot to focus on how lucky we were to have more joy added to our family. More opportunities to laugh and smile.

This pregnancy has been very different for me. I haven't fallen into my usual pit of fear. I haven't felt put out. Just lucky and hopeful. Blessed, really. Blessed by the little baby that didn't come. The one we miss and look forward to someday meeting.

Under our kitchen table

Not many nights ago, while I was preparing to get little Mason ready for bed, he scuttled under our kitchen table in hopes of stretching out the length of his day. Unfortunately for him, I am not much larger, and decided that his hiding place was as good as anywhere else to get him dressed. It wasn't until I was hidden under the table with my little chap, that I realized that it had been a rather long time since I had been under a kitchen table, or even in any sort of hiding place for that matter. How did that happen? While I got him ready, my mind went back to the many little spots in my parents home that seemed so magical and safe to hide in when I was a child. There were forts in the back yard, the linen closet at the end of the hall, under the bathroom sink (until the day I got my head stuck), and of course the top shelf in my bedroom closet. I remember honestly thinking that nobody would ever find me there and so I would sit with my hoard of toys happily for what seemed like hours on end (but with my attention span, this was highly unlikely). All the places that seem average to me now were so magical in my youth. How did that all change?

I tried to think when the last time I did anything fort-ish. How long has that part of my imagination lapsed? The most recent time I could come up with was my freshman year in college, when my roommate, Heather, and I decided to have secret meetings under her raised bed. We would drink the BYU creamery chocolate milk and plan out how we would woo our current love interests in time for valentine's day. Dorky, but mighty fine fun, if you ask me!

That means that I haven't done anything like this for ten whole years!!! How have I been able to find any merriment in my twenties without a little fort fun? How did I get so boring?!!! If I was going to mommy this little boy, and more children to come (please, please, please) than this was a little matter that I would have to fix.

The next morning, I took the initiative and crawled under our table, much to the glee of Mason. There we sat off and on for the next several hours. We had a snack, read some books, played with some toys, and had some fun imaginative bonding time. Needless to say, it was a treat. One that we will be having again soon. Life is too short to not sit somewhere unexpected every now and again.

Also, don't I look dreamy in the morning wearing my chic robe? James is one lucky man to get to wake up to me! I'm poetry in motion at all times of the day!

I Like People

"I like people

Glad people

Sad people

Slow people

Mad people

Big people

Little people

I like people."

--Margaret Wise Brown

The Friendly Book

This is a line from a delightful book that my mom read us Vance kids when we were little. My parents raised us to like people, no matter how different or unfriendly they may be. I have believed this my whole life that people are good and well meaning more often than not and have rarely been let down. Until 2008. In 2008 we Utah Siegs seemed to be taken advantage of every swindler in Provo. Try as I might, I couldn't help but lose a little of this idealistic view of people. They DID let me down! However, last week I had a happy little reminder.

Eighteen months ago Mason was born. To celebrate, we bought a jogging stroller combo and been using it ever since. I love this stroller. It is narrow enough to run any errand in any store, but also hearty enough to go wherever we outdoorsy Siegs wish to venture. Unfortunately, our beloved stroller had a very serious flaw. It would shake like the dickens if we even started to canter! I contacted the manufacturer but they wouldn't do anything to help us (it was 2008 mind you). Because we are cheap, and I really DO like every other aspect of the stroller, we have continued to rattle and wiggle our way around town. Until two weeks ago.

Mason and I were jogging a nearby street when we came upon a shaggy man dressed in a West Coast Choppers shirt, accompanied by his massive pit bull (was I back on Stubbs? This was way too familiar). We said hi as we rattled on past. On the way home, we spotted him out front of his home again. This time, however, he stopped us.

"Is there something wrong with your stroller?" he asked. "Would you mind if I had a look at it? I would hate to have the wheel come off and have your little guy get hurt." In the next five minutes, he ran back and forth from his garage a couple times, drilled a whole in our metal frame, screwed in a new screw, almost started crying as he told us a story about his dog, and FIXED our stroller! Wonder of wonders!!!! No more shaking! Now it runs as smooth as a Cadillac (well, I guess a broken down Cadillac, as I still have to push it). People truly are wonderful. Even when they look scruffy and mean, they so often surprise you. I really do like people.

Happy Pioneer Day....

I woke up this morning and realized that this same day FIVE YEARS ago was when I finished my mission and my mom came and picked me up. We toured around my different areas in West Virginia and Virginia and said all kinds of last goodbyes. My mom was a saint to put up with me since I was beyond sad to be leaving that chapter of my life. My friends and family were all pretty patient with me while I wallowed in my post-mission/ social retarded phase that seemed to laps on FAR too long. I don't deal well with change and I just couldn't imagine life ever being as great as it was when I got to tracked in the hollers. Now it's been five years! Time flys when you're having fun. I LOVED my mission SOOO much, but it is sure nice to see that life just keeps getting better and better. I just feel so lucky that I got to be a mountain momma and serve in such a beautiful area with such amazing people. The things I learned and the memories I carry with me are some of my greatest treasures. I feel like the luckiest of all! We all have so many different adventures to live in this life and so many different things to learn. It is kinda fun to look back and see how things are unfolding. Heavenly Father sure loves His children.

On another note, today is also a monumental day since it is the first day that Mason figured out how to take off his own daiper. Yippee. I put him down for a nap wearing only his daiper but by the sounds of his squawking, I knew that he was wide awake and up to something. About thirty minutes later his happy sounds turned into a cry for help. I found him sitting in his own pee, naked as a jay bird. Good times.