The Bacchanalia of Peace on Earth, Good Will Toward Men

(This post was originally written on December 25, 2013).  
Alan and I cannot make it through Christmas without quoting that line of lines from “A Christmas Story” which is the title of this post. Especially as we see our kids in full Christmas-morning-rip-the-presents-open mode. The truth is that they are very good and very patient and very grateful on Christmas morning....but we still quote it...every year. This year we really did pay homage to little Ralphie in “A Christmas Story” by buying the 2013 version of the Red Ryder BB gun, air soft rifles, for two of our boys. If you’re not familiar with these then welcome to the club. Neither was I as recently as December 1st when I stumbled upon them on Amazon. Essentially, they are BB guns that shoot plastic pellets instead of metal ones. which is good for two reasons. First, no windows will be harmed. Secondly, no child will need a bullet extracted from their body when the desire to shoot at each other triumphs over the desire for peace on earth, good will towards men, or brotherly love, or whatever you call that thing that prompts you to not hurt each other. As we knew that these boys would go through thousands of bullets in hot pursuit of targets, we purchased 5,000 extra BB's for them. Within one hour of outside play the canister of 5,000 BB's was spilled into every crevice between the boards of our back porch.  Which, as fate would have it, was the exact size to keep any of the BB's from falling through, but also the exact size to keep you from easily picking any of them out.  The next hour was spent in family time....crawling around with dustpans, paintbrushes, butter knives, and other extraction tools in hot pursuit of REALLY IMPORTANT plastic balls....thousands of them. We looked like a team of archaeologists uncovering a new species of yellow pellets. Bless us.
Other than that, the day was spent just being together. Games were played. Bicycles were assembled. I cleaned the house. More games were played. Food was prepared and devoured. I cleaned the house. Good times were had by all! That night we broke out another favorite Christmas movie of ours that our kids have never seen, “While You Were Sleeping”. We drank egg nog as we laughed our way through the movie. I realized anew how much fun it is to have my kids a little older and be able to share some things with them, like movies, that we love. In the morning they all woke up and commented that the house was so clean. They asked when I had done it. I told them that it was while they were sleeping. 

Christmas Adam

(This post was originally written on December 23, 2013).  Today is what we, in the Ward family, like to call "Christmas Adam".  Actually I think many more people call it Christmas Adam as well…it's just that I had never heard of it before I became a Ward.  If you have never heard of it as well then let me enlighten you about this most special of holidays.  It's a bit complicated so hold on to your brain cells.  It goes like this.  Tomorrow is Christmas EVE, so the day before that is Christmas ADAM!  I just blew your mind.  Supposing I didn't and you are still capable of reading we shall continue.   As it is Christmas Adam, my house is bubbling over with excitement, cheer, speculation, and …sickness.  Alas and alack 'tis true.  We have had diarrhea and SERIOUS runny noses for the past week and I thought we were going to make it to the holiday with a clean bill of health until Brigham, dear Brigham started hacking his living guts out this morning.  Sigh.  I quarantined him early on in the day in vain hopes that my baby, Jacob, would escape.  Unfortunately, Brigham and Jacob made a secret pact early this morning to share germs as much as possible throughout the day.  Within a one hour time frame they shared a cup, a straw, and 15 pieces of bubble gum (I don't even want to explain that one).  Needless to say, I think by Christmas proper we should have a Jacob who is hacking his living guts out.  Oh well, go big or go home right?  

Growing up, I lived in a 1000 sq. ft. house with one front room, one small kitchen, one bathroom customized in size for leprechauns and hobbits, and three small bedrooms.  That's it.  My parents raised all five of their kids there.  At its squishiest point there was a several month period with eight people living there.  Obviously during those "squishy" times the bathroom was a serious commodity.  Fortunes were made and lost in desperate pursuit of precious time in that sanctuary.  When my sister got married and all the kids came home to visit for the wedding with their spouses and kids it was a no win situation.  You had to schedule five minute time slots three months in advance.  It was too much for my dad, who has a serious attachment to the room itself.  At the thought of not being able to get into said room at the drop of a hat he nearly lost his mind and developed some sort of psychosis.  On the morning of the wedding nobody could find dear old dad until we checked the backyard.  I'll never forget the sight of my very prim and proper father sitting in a childs' plastic swimming pool in his swimming suit shaving and bathing.  We laughed until we cried and then kept on laughing until the realization dawned on us that we suddenly had a second bathroom and should capitalize on the idea.  Reservations were taken immediately.  Unfortunately, being the youngest of the group, I couldn't get an opening until mid December.  Another holiday, about 10 years later, the whole family came home for Thanksgiving.  Again, we were happily jammed in like sardines waiting to glut ourselves on the dinner of all dinners.  Unluckily, we all came down with a serious stomach flu…at the same time…in the same house.   There is nothing a childs' plastic swimming pool can do for you in a situation like that.  It was horrific.  An unfortunate repercussion of the PTSD I developed from the experience is that if I ever enter a building or home with one bathroom, I immediately ask if I can make a reservation for the toilet and the child's plastic swimming pool.  I get a lot of odd looks, but I know that they're the ones that are going to be sorry when push comes to shove.  So, in hindsight, I suppose that coughing your living guts out is not as bad as it could be.  Plus, we have two bathrooms and a child's plastic swimming pool.  And I have reserved them until June of 2018. 

A Shout Out To All The Mom's Out There

My name is Camille Ward.  I am the wife of an LDS Bishop who is the love of my life.  We have five crazy kids who I devote my time and life to.  What I mean by that is that I am a stay at home mom by choice, rather than by default with a lack of better things to do.  I remember a few years ago my husband and I left town for a few days for our anniversary.  We were in the beautiful town of Ouray Colorado (which I seriously recommend as one of the most beautiful places I have ever been).  As we were walking through the town we met a few locals who asked us each what we "do".  I am always a little at a loss as to what to say when that happens because I just don't feel that there is a really great answer that sums up my job.  So I tried out a few throughout the day.  Here are some of my responses: " I am a professional monkey trainer"; "I am a character developer";  and my personal favorite, "I spend my life trying to help others become responsible and productive citizens of our country."  When people questioned me further I told them that actually means that I'm a stay at home mom.  It was great for a good laugh between us!  I really believe that whether mom's are home or working that their influence overarching.  I am always a little at a loss at the opinions of others where a mothers influence is  concerned, but alas, I can't control what others think.  What I can do, though, is write about my life (not that anyone is banging my door down to hear it).  Truthfully, it's just a story about life, and kids, and chaos, and love, and God, and trying to make it through this insane world together.  It's a story of mom's.  Myself, my mom, her mom.  No matter the station and situation in life that we are currently living, I hope it's a funny and thought provoking ride for all.

I was born to amazing parents who had already had four kids and were in the middle of, well, middle age.  When my mom found out she was pregnant she was shocked.  Actually, I don't think "shocked" even begins to scratch the surface of what she felt.  She had already begun the process of menopause and the children she already had ranged in age from 20 down to 11.  She was then 44 years old.  I think most women, when confronted with this situation would have felt similarly.  I believe that many of them would have considered abortion.  Though overwhelmed (and to be honest, a bit horrified) she never considered getting rid of me.  A decision which I will always adore her for.  Her pregnancy was terrible.  Just the usual suspects: weight gain, extreme fatigue, nausea.  She said that when they wheeled her into the delivery room she was loudly bemoaning her fate and when they wheeled her out she was loudly gushing about what a miracle children were.  Apparently the nurses got quite a kick out of her.  My mom is one of a kind.  Truthfully, having me was devastating to her health.  She could never get rid of the weight, and when I was only nine she found herself wheelchair bound due to a terrible autoimmune disease that would plague her the rest of her life.  In a world where women's bodies and personal happiness comes first, I honor my mother for choosing me.  I honor her for being selfless.  I have never heard her ever regret the decision she made, to do so would be going against her soul and everything she stands for and believes.  She is the definition of "Mother" in my opinion.  We live in a selfish world where so many put themselves before others...including mom's.  Perhaps that's part of what's wrong with our society.  We need more selflessness.  We need more kindness.  We need more Mothers.