"Awntees"

My kids have a million uncles. Really. Like 1.2 million. But, they only have 2 "real" (meaning our blood has similar DNA) aunties.

Awntee-Wiz. And Awntee-Whin-nee. (Awntee Ben-ja was dethroned while serving her 18 month mission for our church. Sorry. Sad, but true... In the mind of a two year old, 30 seconds is an eternity sometimes. 18 months? Ya right.)

When me and my posterity were in Utah for about a month while Chris was in California, it was just about as glamorous as it sounds. No husband. No father of my children.

Ouch.


And that is where the super hero duo stepped in: Wiz and Whin-Nee. The loves of my life. My sanity. My blood. They helped manage to keep the children alive, fed, and cleaned every once in a while.

We got into a routine with the babies. They would wake up, get their booties changed, fed, lathered up with sun block and out the door we went! Our saving grace was actually the local water park, my old stomping grounds: SEVEN PEAKS! We happily purchased season passes the first day we got there. After all, first things first!


Every. Single. Day.


We would have to be home by 3 in order for Wiz to to work. And that was the only thing that had to happen for sure every day. Keeping my kids busy was the token to success. If ever I thought to change up the order of the routine (you know... like sleeping in, maybe??) my butt would get majorly kicked.


For example, every once in a while we would venture off the the library, museums, parks, etc. On those days, as I put J to bed, the incessant asking of "Beach!? Beach!? Swim!! Go swim??" (ALL forms of water are called beach. Do not correct him. It's pointless.) would remind me to hit up the teen-scene ASAP the next morning. J is part fish, part two-year-old. And you know what that means? No water. No happy.


Unhappy toddler makes for an even more unhappy mother.

Which makes for an even MORE unhappy toddler. Hmmmmm.


Just for posterity sake, let me paint the setting we were in: The Awntees don't really live at home. They actually live (well, sort of... this gets confusing. Hang on.) at some apartments in Provo. But, my Dad was gone to California for the summer, and someone had to watch over the house (and dog. ew.) while he was gone. So, the duo share their own custody with their apartment and our Dad's house.

So, that is where we stayed.

In my Dad's house.

With no Dad.

And (obviously) no Mom.

So, it felt like we were little girls again, living together.

Except I got married.

And had two kids.

But no husband.

And our parents were gone.

And all of our brothers.

And Whin-Nee didn't live in Chile.

And we had to make our own food.

And fend for ourselves.

But ya know, same idea... Somehow the weeks passed, and only after a few melt downs, my husband called us home! He had found us a dwelling to occupy (thanks to the Bogarts and Brewers for hosting the other half of our homeless family in CA!!), and I had found us a car. What more do you need?

Husband. Children. Home. Car. Awntees.

But seriously. You two will never know what you mean to me.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

You are my dearest.

And I cherish you.