Dryer

Well, it's been about a month since my dryer broke. I really have no one to blame but myself. The poor thing was here when we moved in 10 years ago, and who knows how long it was here before that. I also beat it up after its washing counterpart died several years ago and we replaced it with the biggest capacity washer on the market. Adam even said to me when we got it, "Now Jess, I know how you are. You aren't going to be able to fill this washer and then put it all in our dryer. Our dryer doesn't have the ability to dry a load that big." That would be the point where I rolled my eyes. I agreed, but knew I wasn't going to listen. He wasn't the one who had to do the endless amounts of laundry our family produced. I'm serious. The laundry in this piece is stupid.

I probably should have listened, because it broke at the worst possible time, of course, and we won't be able to afford a new one anytime soon. Oh well. It really isn't that big of a deal. I'm very thankful I still have a washer. (*knock-on-wood*) When our washer broke, I washed laundry in our bathtub by hand, and that was when we only had half the kids. If that happened now, I'd be stuck in the bathtub all day long until my skin fell off.

There are some downsides to this whole ordeal. First, the kids and Adam are always complaining about scratchy towels, stretched out socks, or having one sleeve of their shirts being stretched so far it touches the ground. Do I send them to work and school looking like fools? Yes. I'm a blimp right now, so stretched out clothes make me feel thin.

The second thing that stinks, is that I can only do one load of laundry a day. Well, I could do more, but that brings me to the third inconvenience. Space. I have a clothesline in the basement, but it only holds about 3/4 of a load. I told my mom, I still use my dryer to dry clothes, but this is what I meant.......

Lesson 170: by saying you use your dryer to dry clothes, you mean hanging laundry on top of it = white trash

The next thing that is frustrating is the amount of time I have to spend on one load of laundry. I never realized how lucky I was to be able to go down to the laundry room and rock out about 5 loads of laundry in a day, and only lose about 15 minutes of my life. (Not counting the folding. That takes me hours after the kids are asleep.) Now, going down to "do" laundry takes me 15 minutes just to get the stuff out of the washer onto the line and try to figure out where to put the extras that don't fit. Then it takes me 10 minutes everytime I go down to check on the progress and flip it all around so it dries evenly.

That part wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have little ones who capitalized on these opportunities. It seems to be prime time for sneaking candy and destroying the house. I'm sure you're thinking, Why don't you have the older boys help? I've tried. It doesn't work out. An example for you...Jovie and Stone were going to come down to do laundry with me, so I asked the 4 older boys to keep an eye on the twins. I even told them if the twins got out of hand to come down and get me. It wasn't like I was miles away, I was one whole floor away. I thought everything would be alright. I was wrong. When I came back up, the twins were nowhere to be seen.

"Where are the twins?" I asked.

Marky looked at me and replied, "I don't know. Where are they?"

"Uh, you tell me. Weren't you boys supposed to be watching them?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot."

Frustrated, I went upstairs to find them splashing in the toilet wearing pee-soaked toilet paper hats. Yeah...the older boys are about useless in that department.

The dryer being taken away from me has been mildly aggravating, but I'm not going to complain. We're so very blessed to just have clothes to wash when so many are deprived of that luxury. So, when I feel myself getting frustrated, I stop and say a prayer instead, a prayer for anyone who doesn't have a washer or dryer, or those who don't have clothes, and it even makes me think of those who don't have clean water.I have been so blessed, and it's bizarre, but I'm kind of thankful for my broken dryer because it has caused me to be a tad more appreciative and prayerful, and I can always use help in that department.

Dear dryer,

Thank you for all the years of dried and perfectly-fitted clothes, and towels that didn't rip with a little pull.

Love,

Jess

P.S. Sorry I killed you.

A Johnston Halloween

I may think Halloween is a financial nightmare, but everyone else in my house seems to love it. It was much easier when the kids were smaller and didn't care about their costumes. Now it's as if their lives will end if they don't have the costume they desire.

The Halloween whining started as soon as school did. Adam and I both have a creative gene floating around inside of us, and our kids have all been blessed to have acquired these genes. But this means big costume ideas. Unfortuanely for us this year, their costume wants came from obscure video games. Jude and Marky wanted to be a character called Slenderman, and Jet was insistant on dressing like a Creeper from the game Minecraft.

Adam, being like some Halloween Fairy, saying, "All your Halloween dreams will come true", was up for the challenge. Luckily, Party City made these new costumes called Morphsuits, and one looked close enough to Slenderman that Jude was happy, but there was nothing close to a Creeper that we could buy in a store. This 8-bit costume nightmare is a Creeper.... 

The night before the kids' school parties, I helped Adam finish Jet's costume. I laughed, because at one point Adam stepped back and said, "What am I doing? I need to chill out. This is a 7 year old's costume for school. It's not like some other 7 year old is going to critique my work."

Lesson 165: stressing out and trying to perfect a cardboard box costume because you're scared of what a bunch of 2nd graders are going to think = white trash

I personally think he rocked it.

The kids love it so much it became like a family member. The boys took it everywhere with them, and when Stone first saw it, he hugged it and said, "I wuv you Cweeper!" Here's the Creeper watching Jet play Minecraft with the other brothers.



Lesson 166: a chunk of cardboard being treated like a long lost brother = white trash

The costumes were a hit in 5th grade, I hear, though not many fellow classmates knew who they were supposed to be.

After carving pumpkins, it was time for Trick-or-Treat. Did I mention the kids carved their own pumpkins this year? That is quite an accomplishment. Adam and I have spent countless years carving multiple pumpkins by ourselves, with cramped hands, and kids screaming in our faces, "Are they done yet? Why aren't they done yet?!" The only exception was Jovie's pumpkin. It wasn't actually a pumpkin. It was a big gourd that was bought because it looked like Yoda's head. It was practically uncarvable and caused Adam to break out the jigsaw.

Lesson 167: using a jigsaw to carve pumpkins = white trash

Trick-or-Treating turned out to be an experience, as usual. Because of the hurricane it was pushed back to Saturday, so Brett couldn't sit at our house and give out candy while the twins slept. We had to take a double stroller AND a wagon.

The other thing that turned out to be a problem, was Jet's costume. The poor kid was stuck in a box. He could hardly hear, had no peripheral vision, and couldn't walk up and down stairs. We'd be walking somewhere, then turn to see Jet wandering around aimlessly on the other side of the street. Then there was the problem with his head. Every time he'd look down in a candy dish, his big block head would fall off into the bowl. Adam finally ran back to the house and grabbed some tape. He came back and wrapped a ridiculous amount of tape around his costume. Being in Pittsburgh, we have a lot of hills, and where there are hills, there are a lot of stairs. It got to the point where Marky would go up to a house and say, "I'm getting candy for my brother down there," and he'd motion down to the bottom of the stairs where a kid in a green box stood flailing his arms.

We did make it though. The kids were all troopers, as were our neighbors. I was a tad embarrassed when my family walked up to a house and the man said to his dog, "Uh oh, here comes the rush!"

Lesson 168: your family being "the rush" during Trick-or-Treat = white trash

Halloween may have been a slight hassel, but it doesn't seem so bad now that I can eat my weight in Snickers bars!

Lesson 169: Trick-or-Treating around the block and being able to fill an economy sized diaper box to the brim with candy = white trash

There are some advantages of a large family! :)

 

Voting

Adam and I are usually quite private about our political beliefs. We believe that everyone deserves a right to vote for whatever candidate they feel is worthy, and that is what is so beautiful about our country. I did, however, wake up with something weighing heavy on my heart.

Many years ago I stood in my freshman dorm room staring at a stick with a plus sign on it. My heart sank and panic ripped through my body. I remember thinking, This is a nightmare! My Catholic upbringing was screaming CHOOSE LIFE!, but my head, that knew my situation, was yelling HAVE AN ABORTION!

I was a smart young girl, attending a great college. I had a wonderful scholarship, and was getting good grades. I was going to make something of myself, and my family couldn't be prouder. The other side of my situation, I was in a relationship I had no business being in, and that's all I'm going to say about it.

I thought long and hard about my choices, but in the end, God's Spirit spoke louder and I had the ability to choose life. I wish I could say that everything worked out and life was peachy, but that isn't what happened. Actually, it was quite the opposite. In choosing life, I also chose to see the disappointment in my family's eyes, to feel the judgement of society who looked down on me for being pregnant with no wedding ring on my finger, to be the living stereotype of being "the head cheerleader who graduated and got knocked up and made nothing of herself", and got to hear from many, many people how sad it was that I threw my life away. No, things did not go well at all.

Sure, it may be sad to some who think I've thrown my life away. But in actuality, I now believe to give up one's life for another is one of the greatest privileges you can experience. The past 14 years of my life may have been harder than I ever could have imagined. And my choice has led to much heartbreak and hardships that at times were, in fact, life threatening, but never once, NOT ONCE, did I wish that my son wasn't here. And if given the choice, I would suffer it all over again. I may not have become the person I had planned on being, but I feel like the whole experience has helped me grow into a better person, the person I was meant to be.

Please know that I am not judging anyone who has had an abortion. That is never my place. I am just trying to tell my own story. I look at my tall, gangly 13 year old son, who is a beautiful light to this world, and I am terrified to think that I had the power to extinguish that light. Now that he's here, and I hear his hopes and dreams, I realize how scary it is that I thought my own dreams for my life were more important than his actual chance at living.

So, today I am voting for the little ones who currently don't have a voice, because I'm hoping someday, along with my own son's voice, theirs will also be heard.

Stoned To Death

My 2 year old, Stone, is one of the cutest little boys you'll ever see. He's got big beautiful brown eyes, with the nicest eyelashes, and a smile to make your heart melt.

 

He may look sweet and innocent, but when he and the twins were put in the same bedroom, he made it his personal mission to figure out a way to rub Rex and Fox out.

I may have removed everything from their room, but it didn't stop him.The child got out of his bed and quietly climbed around upstairs looking for supplies. He tried to drown Rex by dumping a large cup of water on his face. He's fed the twins toothpaste, A & D ointment, anti-fungal foot cream, hand lotion, and detangler. I also found Fox swimming in a bed full of prenatal vitamins. Did I mention Stone is really good at removing child-proof lids? And please don't think I just left this stuff laying around. To get to my prenatal vitamins he must have climbed on my bed, then lept onto my dresser, and climbed to the top of my tv. Unless he can fly and hasn't let me in on his secret.  

He was also caught feeding the twins pencil sharpeners, and the smallest Legos he can find in his older brothers' bedroom.

I finally got tired of his shenanigans, so one night, when I put them to bed I closed and locked all other rooms upstairs. A little while later I heard some loud thuds and the sound of a door knob being turned violently. I ran upstairs and was horrified by what I saw. Stone had pushed the twins beds over, dumping them onto the floor. My cute little doe-eyed two year old had done this.....

What added to my terror was while my twins rolled around free on their bedroom floor, Stone was picking the bathroom lock with a piece of plastic! I called Adam crying, "I think Stone is going to be a criminal!"

Lesson 164: your 2 year old being capable of breaking and entering and attempted homicide all in one night = white trash

After a few weeks of this kind of behavior, and a lot of yelling and punishment, Adam and I thought real hard about why he would be doing these things. He had always been so kind and helpful before. That's when it hit us. He was trying to be kind and helpful in a way we weren't seeing. He could get out of his bed and play, so it made sense that he would try to help the twins out of theirs. And truth be told, I find Stone eating toothpaste by himself, so maybe he was just trying to share something he enjoyed. (For the record, it's NOT something I allow him to do!)

Thinking about these facts, we decided to give Stone some chores, and to let him help out with the twins. Now we let him feed them, but he feeds them actual food. He gets them diapers when I need them, and throws the gross ones in the garbage. He helps clean up the toys at the end of the day, and helps me empty the dishwasher. Ever since then the twins have been safe in their beds, and Stone doesn't get out of his until morning. Maybe his need for helping is satisfied, or maybe he's just completely tired from all the extra work. Either way, now at bed time we all rest a little easier. 

Drive-Thru Window

A few weeks ago there was a bit of sibling conflict. Jovie and Jude had ganged up against Jet and Jagger. I'm not sure if Jovie and Jude were trying to get outside or they were keeping Jet and Jagger from coming in. All I know is it turned into an all out brawl on my front porch. Screaming and door slamming filled the air.

I was upstairs trying to fold about 900 loads of laundry, so having to stop to break up a fight made me very angry. I stomped down and put a stop to the show my kids were putting on for the neighbors. I snatched Jovie and Jude up then tried to open the door to chase after Jagger and Jet who had run away. I pushed on the door, but it didn't give. I thought it was locked. I checked. Nope. The kids had broken it, and it was stuck shut.

This happened on a Friday. So I knew we'd have to live with it until Monday when Adam had some time away from work.

On Saturday I had to work at the restaurant as well. Not wanting Adam's cousin Liz to lose her mind watching my kids, I decided to go online and order them a pizza for dinner.

That night when I came home, Liz chuckled, "When the pizza got here I couldn't open the door."

"Oh my gosh! I totally forgot about the door. Did you have to go out back and walk around?" I asked.

She laughed, "No, Jovie said, 'I know!" then she went and opened the window. She took the pizza and said, 'Thanks old man.'"

Can you see the look of horror on my face? I didn't know whether to be more embarrassed by the fact they got the pizza through the window, or that Jovie called this poor guy "old man". I sighed, "I hope the neighbors didn't see that."

Lesson 163: having a pizza delivered through your window because your kids broke the front door in a Jerry Springer style showdown = white trash

Sore Throat Cure

Adam has been sick for a week and one of his main complaints was the sore throat that went with it. So, when Jude came down with the same cold I knew his throat had to hurt too.

I went down to the boys' room the day after Jude got sick to check on him. "Hey buddy, how're you feeling?"

"Fine," Jude told me.

"Is your throat sore?"

"Not anymore."

Jude is our tough guy, so I knew he would never admit to feeling ill.

"Are you sure?" I asked, trying to get him to admit it.

"It did hurt, but Jet punched me in the neck and now it doesn't hurt anymore," he smiled.

"What?!" I turned my attention to Jet sitting on the couch playing video games. He looked up at me and smiled. "Did you punch Jude in the neck?"

He proudly nodded, "Jude told me he had a sore throat, so I punched him in the neck."

I looked at Jude, "Did you ask him to punch you?" I wasn't sure if I wanted the answer.

"Yeah. When you have a sore throat, if someone punches you in the neck it goes away," he explained. He and Jet both looked at me as if to say 'Duh Mom, everyone knows that.'

"Uh, do you boys do this often?"

Jet answered, "Only if we have a sore throat."

Shocked at my boys' medical discovery, I decided I had heard enough. As I walked back upstairs I mentioned, "Wouldn't a cough drop be easier?" Of course, I'm not a 7 year old doctor. Who knew my basement was full of Doogie Howsers?

Lesson 162: a punch in the neck being your go to cure for a sore throat = white trash

Hearts

"I can't find a heartbeat." After trying for over five minutes, my doctor had finally thrown in the towel. Being equally awkward at hard moments as I, he tried to joke with me, "It's probably because you're uterus is HUGE!"

As usual, I combat the dying feeling inside with humor, "Are you saying my uterus is beat?"

"You said it," he smiled. Probably relieved I wasn't in a ball crying.

"You were thinking it."

"Maybe." He once told me I crossed his mind as he sewed a 90 year old woman's uterus back up inside her.

Lesson 160: your gyno thinking, "Hey, this is going to be Jess someday" while performing surgery on an elderly woman who's uterus has fallen out = white trash

Of course, why wouldn't he? I call or walk into the gyno office, and every staff member knows me by name without looking at my chart.

Lesson 161: being the equivalent to Norm on Cheers at the gyno office = white trash

Despite my calm behavior in the office, my hands were shaking as I called to schedule my sonogram. I did this, I thought to myself, It's all my fault. The guilt made my stomach churn.

Not that I have been doing drugs, or on some drinking binge, it was worse than that....I was ashamed of my pregnancy. When Adam and I found out we would be welcoming a ninth child, we decided to keep it a secret. I can't tell you how horrible it feels when you see the judgement in people's eyes, hear it in their voice, or in some cases, their harsh words. People can be cruel.

After learning I would have to wait four excruciating days to find out the fate of our unborn baby, I drove home in deep thought. What had I done? Adam and I had worked so hard to be open to Gods plans for us, and we know God's plans are rarely easy. In fact, they usually challenge us to the core, but always changing us for the better. Not only had I been telling God, by my actions, that I was ashamed of his perfect plan, but I was unappreciative for the gift he was trying to give to me. How hurt he must have felt by the way I was hiding.

How would I feel if I gave someone a gift, that I put a lot of thought into, and that person took it and hid it somewhere so no one would see it? Can you imagine the complex thought and time he put into my baby?

When I got home, I could hear the twins had just woken up from their nap. I went in to get them, and after noting how beautifully perfect they were, I began to cry. I thought about how proud I was of all my children, and that I shouldn't feel any different about the one who had been growing inside of me.

Yesterday was my sonogram. I was alone. Happy for this fact, I wanted to be able to mourn without trying to be funny.

"Have you had any cramping or bleeding?" the sonogram tech asked.

"No."

"Well, let's have a look and see if we can find a heartbeat."

She placed the wand on my stomach, my heart beat ferociously. I wondered if my own heart could beat enough for the both of us. The picture came through and there lay my baby. I held my breath and then the most beautiful little hand popped up and waved at us. Tears came to my eyes. I've never appreciated a wave more. Even the tech got a little emotional and said, "Awe....it's like your baby is saying "look mom, I'm still here.""

After the tech left, I lay waiting for a doctor who was learning to read sonograms to come have a look too. I stared at the pictures of my new baby. They even got a pic of the him/her waving, since he/she really seemed to have a thing for it. In the stillness of that moment, I thanked God with a grateful heart for His perfect plans, and His gift of my baby's beautiful beating heart.