A better understanding of our experiences...

It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words, but --for me-- I don't always have a picture for the moment I want a thousand words for... and so we provide these experiences, to hope that you can smile with us about our vacation joys.

Perhaps is it easier to pick out specific moments, to pick out the memories instead of struggling to make sure that all is in perfect chronological order. It is said that moments make up a life time, and so it would be moments such as these:

Will singing “I love to see the Temple” in a voice that mimicked Korn (a heavy metal band) to wake up his sister needing a diaper change

Jake’s unusual laughter and sense of the absurd at the word: Undies

Will’s incessant bathroom breaks--seriously, every bathroom we passed, where ever we go, he has to use--

Abby with her perpetual runny nose, that leads me to carry around tissues in my pockets, clean and used :(

The daily toil to find four children who are picky, something to eat--and my ever thankful prayer that they didn’t mind that I didn’t make the chili the same as Meredith...

Getting a ball stuck in the gutters of Meredith’s house, and right as we are trying to assess the situation, a Police Officer comes over to ask us what is going on (I didn’t realize that he was referencing the NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR’S situation, assuming I had called him to complain... ) and I frantically struggle to rein in the kids from throwing things over the house, missing, and hitting windows and cars. I thought I was getting in trouble... childhood all over again...

Leaning over a burning hot trash receptacle to fish out the cardboard boxes needed for the castle we promised the boys we’d make, only to find out afterward that the boxes we retrieved are too big for the back of the van. We have no rope to tie it to the top of our car, and so instead we shove the boxes in the van, over the children’s heads, resting on their car-seats. Only to find out when we get home, that we can’t find anything to put it together with... tape doesn’t work, we can’t find a box cutter, and it keeps falling down... Eventually we found a letter opener that worked, and some zip ties, and amid the cries of children coaching us on what the ‘end result’ should be, we erected a ‘castle’ of sorts--which the children promptly never played in. Maybe it is indeed the joy of building something that they enjoyed more...

Each and every yellow car that we ever passed, was called out as ‘a bumble-bee car’ in memory of Transformers, by Will

Abby’s need to say “poopie” because she isn’t supposed to, and Will’s encouragement and chanting of the same--

Teaching the children “Down by the Banks of the Hanky-Panky” while waiting for the rice to cook a little longer, and hoping to prevent rioting...

And by far, one of the most exciting moments needing to be cataloged along with everything else, is Eric’s Experience Alone. (and yes, all of those words need to capitalized) On Thursday Eric and I both had our hair cut appointments. His was at 1:30, and mine a scant half hour later.... after many frustrations and tears (on my part, I was just too tired to do what I was doing) I had to leave Eric at the salon, still having his hair cut, with all 4 kids sitting on the stool, working at being still. Haha. Funny game :) And let the games begin: Eric, of course, had his hands full. [side note, hearing this story told out loud is infinitely better, my apologies that the written word does nothing for the sound effects, voice inflection and expression that come across when retold by Eric... but this will have to do.] He took them to the downtown SLC library, which allows the children to walk around on the roof of the building and see all of the downtown area, it also has glass elevators that go up 6 stories, and water. The water was the downfall. In a moment, while Eric is making sure that the rocks Abby has been putting in her mouth aren’t swallowed or thrown at the other kids, Will strips naked and jumps in the fountain. Eric had found a small secluded area, walled by cement and perfect to let the kids run around in (or so he thought) less supervised. He turns around after fishing the last rock out of Abby’s mouth, just to see a naked Will running around merrily through the overflowing fountain. He rushes up, retrieves said child, fishes out the sunken, sopping clothing, attempts to re-clothe the naked one, turns around and Abby is gone. HOW COULD SHE DISAPPEAR? Eric wonders. Frantically he calls the older boys to action: Find Your Sister. Eventually she is found inside the library doors, with her snotty nose pressed up against the glass wall, looking for all the world forlorn, and all Eric can think of is: “Who would let a small child into the library without supervision?!” So he pulls all the children together and leaves the area he thought was secure... and through the vast echoing library, all he hears is the sqwish-squelch of Will’s shoes through the foyer. Out side again, he lets them walk, in an area without water... But low and behold, drawn like a moth to a flame, Will finds another fountain and without further ado jumps in again, this time fully clothed. Again Eric fishes out the wet one, attempts to reprimand, and Abby needs her diaper changed. I am still at my hair appointment, and Eric texts me hoping I can help. He brings all the children to the salon, and up the stairs to where I am. While I try to find a place to change her, the boys (of course) find a melted crayon on the ground, and proceed to wipe in on each other. Thank goodness for my stylist that was willing to take a break in the middle of the whole process! From there Eric took the kids home, and towards the promise of food. After the exhausting afternoon, and in the warm car for an hour and a half, all the children fell asleep. While the silence was golden, it just made putting them asleep later SO much harder... But Eric thought he would be sweet, and took them all to Brick Oven (a local Provo pizza place) for their own individual pizzas. But the Brick Oven has a bathroom... and so of course everyone had to go to the bathroom-- including the one that had a diaper. Not really sure how that works, but she said “gotta go potty” with her limited vocab. So, Eric traipses to the bathroom with the three boys, leaving Abby in her high chair saying ‘Hi’ to all who passed by. Upon coming back from the bathroom, Abby has a crayon in her mouth, and the pizza arrived. Of which Abby picked the cheese off, threw it on the floor; Will didn’t touch his, and the older boys bickered over who had the better pizza. Because Abby had drunk two glasses of milk within a 5 minute time frame (her own personal Gallon Challenge) she then proceeded to puke all over herself. Joy. Eric had barely had enough time to finish one piece of pizza, when the waitress brought by the check and smilingly asked if there was anything else needed. “Of course!” answered Eric in his mind: Five more hands, and six more eyes! Taking this as his cue to leave, he asks boxes....which he fills with pizza and rushes out the door screaming, trying not to drop the 6 boxes of pizza, the baby girl, and prevent serious bodily harm of the other three munchkins in the streets of Provo. Finally at home, Eric proceeds to let them run around the back yard to work off the root beer, nap from previous, and frantically texts to inquire as to the location of his second set of Eyes and Hands before attempting the bathing ritual and bed time routine (which is NO where near as strict as Amy’s imposed regimen). [May I just say, that after this day, nothing seemed as bad, just a continuation of before.... really, this was the pinnacle of the week, the best stories we got from our experiences]

I tried to cook waffles for the boys, but they didn’t have Bisquick. I am a big believer in Bisquick. But I can make waffles by scratch, provided that I have the recipe: through this, all things are possible. So, I finally get the recipe when Steve comes home for a brief moment to get food, and attempt waffles. I grease the pan, pour in the batter, and wait. Until the moment that the sweet wafting smell tickles my nose, and I open the waffle iron, to see every square stuck with waffle--each crevice adhered with morsels meant for the table pounding with hungry children. *sigh* Sweet patient Eric sets to work on the iron, while I decide that we are having pancakes instead, heat of the pan, and amid making sure the children don’t do themselves (or their siblings) bodily harm, I proceed to burn the next 6 pancakes. Bunker children do not eat dark foods. And I was chastised about my cooking ability several times. More sadness, more grouchiness and lack of patience-- until Eric resurrects the waffle iron and turns out two beautiful waffles, with the last of the batter. So, he plunges in with a will to ‘whip’ up some more for the children asking “Well where is MY waffle?” 

Needless to say this week has been busy, and fraught with learning experiences, joy, sadness, reprimanding and laughter. We are so glad that we came!