In Case of Emergency

Last night for Family Home Evening we read a story from this month's Friend about being prepared in case of an emergency. For part of our activity we talked about what to do if the smoke alarm goes off. I actually demonstrated what he should do by lying on the ground and yelling out "Mommy, Daddy, I'm in the dining room!"

We also had Peter memorize my phone number by making it into a song. And we wanted to make sure that he knew our real names, not just Mom and Dad.

Bryan: Peter, what's Mommy's name?

Peter: Mommy

Me: What's my real name?

Peter: Margot

Me: That's right. And what's Daddy's real name?

Peter: Sweetie.

Maybe I should call him Bryan more...

How to Be On Time to Church

We arrived at church today during the prelude music. I don't remember the last time that happened. Wait, yes I do. It was when the choir was singing and we had to be there to practice. That was in December, so it's been a while. Bryan is sick today so I was flying solo for the morning and at church, which makes our timely arrival even more amazing.

Do want to know the secrets to our success?

• Have your clothes set out the night before. (We did this by hanging the boys church clothes back up as soon as they got home last week. Yes, they wore the exact same thing two Sundays in a row, without washing them.)
• Accept the help of your fall-over-sick spouse in getting your children dressed.
• Don't stress over the fact that your son's hair is sticking up all over the place. This will save you precious moments that would have been spent trying to get him to stand in one place long enough to comb it.
  
• Take a shower late in the day on Saturday, put on mascara, and don't get too dirty. Next, ignore that voice of good hygiene that says you should wash off your make-up at the end of the day. The next morning, and this is key, don't shower. Put on lots of deodorant and pray that you don't stink. And bonus, you're still wearing mascara from the night before!

Hmm, I probably shouldn't fess up to that whole lack of grooming thing. But spending little to no time on myself really did speed-up the whole operation.

Fetch

My boys play fetch together. I'd like to say they're playing catch, but that wouldn't be true.

I think it's awfully cute.

Rock-a-bye Baby

You know the song Rock-a-bye Baby? The one where the child falls out of a tree at the end? I think that song is highly disturbing. It's a lullaby and therefore meant to soothe your child to sleep... because nothing says sweet dreams like telling your child they might fall from a great height and then have their cradle land on them.

No, we sing other songs to our boys at bedtime. Peter's current favorites are Hush, Little Baby and Come, Come Ye Saints. In spite of the fact that I don't like Rock-a-bye Baby, the song used to regularly pop into my mind when I was trying to come up with a sleep-inducing song. So I made up my own words.

Because I am highly forgetful and want to remember my alternate version, I thought I'd put it here. Are you ready to bask in my cleverness? Just kidding, no basking nessacary. I'll use the Cooper version, but Peter's name is easily plugged in. This means that all of our kids need to have two syllable names so I can keep using this song to sing them off to dreamland.

Rock-a-bye Cooper, in mommy's arms
I will protect and keep you from harm.
And when you cry I'll hold you so near
So rock-a-bye Cooper, baby, my dear.

Every Little Bit Helps

I have a picture in my mind of the kind of person that uses coupons. She's in her late thirties and is wearing a jean jumper with a floral print cotton shirt. She has an envelope in her hand that is packed and overflowing with small slips of colorful paper. Her gaggle of children are clambering for her attention as she digs through her clutch of coupons and the people standing in line behind her are checking their watches and wishing they had picked a different line. Yes, I know that I'm falling prey to socioeconomic profiling, and I realize that this mental picture is not accurate, but it's still the stigma that clings to the concept of couponing.

In spite of this, Bryan and I have been seriously considering entering the wide world of coupons.

Now, we can't go coupon crazy. Peter's food allergies and our general desire to eat healthy food cuts out lots of the stuff that coupons cover. You know, TV dinners, meals where you just add water, anything by Hostess. No, we like fruits and vegetables and make lots of stuff from scratch.

That said, is it even worth it for us to invest the time and money in clipping coupons. We've agreed that we would need to subscribe to the Sunday paper in order to make this work. I don't want to shell out that money ($91 for 52 weeks) if I don't think we're going to save even more than what we've spent.

So here's my question to those of you with coupon experience (and anybody else that wants to respond): Is it worth the cost of the Sunday paper to save money on toiletries and whatever healthy food might be on sale? Or should we just look for deals online? Are their other coupon tricks we should be aware of? Do I really need to buy a jean jumper to make this work?

Mini Cooper

Cooper was really little when he was born, 6 lbs. 9 oz. I remember thinking that he had bird legs. Part of the reason that he seemed so small is that Peter weighed 8 lbs. 8oz. when he was born. A two pound difference is quite significant on a newborn. A few days after he was born I announced that we had our very own mini-Cooper. (Well, I think I came up with it. The mind is kind of blurry in those first few weeks. And months.) Then he started to get nice and round and outgrew his 0-3 month clothes and I thought, "He's not a mini-Cooper anymore."

Cooper, at about a week old, hanging out with Grandpa Marc.

I was wrong.

Cooper had his one year well-baby check-up last week. I commented to Bryan a few weeks ago that I was afraid Cooper wasn't growing. In truth he is growing, just not very much. He put on less than a pound in the last three months. I asked the doctor if I should be worried and he said no, most babies this age have a dip in their weight gain because of their new-found mobility and that we would reassess the situation at Cooper's 15-month check-up.

His reassurance didn't do much to calm me though. I'm not pacing the floors at night, but I have been using my powers of deduction to figure out why Cooper is so little. Here are a few of my theories:

• Cooper has never liked solid food and therefore is not a voracious eater. We have been very slow to introduce new things (because of the family history of food allergies) so he's still been eating baby food, which makes me feel like a lazy mom. I've been working to feed him more age-appropriate meals.
• He's just inherited my short genes, which means while Peter is swimming and playing basketball, Cooper will be wrestling and playing football. (Yeah, right.)
• He's doing me a favor and staying small until he can walk so I won't have to carry around a giant baby.

Yeah, that's all I've got. Here I go comparing the boys again, but I think the real reason Cooper's size worries me is that Peter was always huge, off the charts in height, weight, and head circumference. Cooper is 25th percentile for height and 15th percentile for weight. At 12-months-old Peter was solidly into 18 month sizes. Cooper is mostly wearing 12 month stuff, but can still squeeze into some of his 9 month shirts.

He's like his big brother when it comes to head circumference: 90th percentile. My boys have giant craniums, what can I say?

Planning for the Future

Peter had a hard time falling asleep last night. At one point I walked by his room and saw him sitting up in bed. I went in to check on him:

Me: Peter, are you okay?
Peter: Mommy, I want...I want...
Me: You want what?
Peter: I want to go on a mission and then be married to a nice girl and she will be the kids mom and my kids will have four.
Me: You'll have four kids?
Peter: Yeah. And when my kids go to sleep I will be out there where you guys are.

I guess we make our evening routine of checking email and folding laundry in the living room seem like the happening place to be. Or maybe it's just that anything is better than going to sleep.

Watch Your Head

Have you heard about Natasha Richardson? She's the actress who played Lindsay Lohan's mom in the remake of The Parent Trap. She was skiing a few days ago, having a beginning level lesson, when she fell and hit her head on the snow. An hour later she complained of a headache and went to the ER. She passed away on Wednesday of a blunt impact to the head. She bled into her brain. And she walked around and talked to people while it was happening.

First, I think this is really sad, mostly because she was a wife and a mother. But second, this whole scenario freaks me out. I'm fairly clumsy. That means that sometimes I fall over. You know who else falls over? Peter and Cooper. A lot. Both boys currently have matching bruises on their foreheads from totally separate accidents. The scariest part? She had a headache, that's how they knew something was wrong. There was no obvious injury.

I'm a vigilant parent, a helicopter parent, a neurotic parent. But my boys still hit their heads. And ever since I heard about Natasha Richardson's accident, I've been wondering how to keep all craniums whole.

Peter likes to wear his helmet. Maybe we should make that a permanent practice. You think I'm joking, don't you? I am. Mostly.

If a Picture is Worth a Thousand Words...

...then what are a picture and a video together worth? And if they contain letters which make words, does their value increase? By the way, Peter organized his letters all by himself. He's actually been writing words. Some of them are real words (like when he wanted to spell hot and I suggested he sound it out, he did, and it was correct) and some of them aren't (like what he put on the fridge today: olfptvjic, which is an example of the kind of word he likes to sound out correctly and then tell me it's Spanish or French) but it's exciting to watch his brain work.

Just Say No

I had my first drug talk with Peter last night.

He graduated to Children's Chewable Tylenol this week. Well, he's probably been eligible to take it for just over a year now, but it only occurred to us on Saturday. He's been waking up every night crying and telling us that his knees hurt. Bryan and I both had horrible growing pains when we were younger, and Peter's symptoms sound very familiar to us.

On Monday night all three of the men at my house felt lousy. Cooper felt yucky from the immunizations he had gotten that day, Bryan was fighting the same cold that has had me coughing and sniffling for days, and Peter's "knees hurt." So all three of them were medicated before bed. Bryan handed Peter the allotted two pink, bubblegum flavored meds. Peter didn't know what to think of it at first, but he ate it.

Last night Peter was the latest to fall victim to this cold that's been picking us off one by one. He said he didn't feel well and was sniffling and couldn't sleep. I offered Wal-Mart's version of Tylenol and he accepted. Gee, it sounds like we really medicate him a lot, doesn't it? We follow all dosage guidelines, I promise.

When I came in with the medicine his eyes got really big and he started to smile. This was our conversation:

Me: Peter, you know this isn't candy, right?

Peter: I know.

Me: It's medicine.

Peter: Uh-huh.

Me: And you know that you only take medicine from Mommy and Daddy, right? (I can't take credit for introducing this concept. It's what Bryan had told Peter the night before. I was just trying to reinforce the principle.)

Peter: Yeah.

Me: And that means that you don't take medicine from your friends.

Peter: Okay.

Me: So if you're playing with Isaac (not my brother, different Isaac) and he says "Peter, I have this medicine. You should take some," what do you say?

Peter: (Laughing because I am being weird) No.

Me: And if Camden is playing at the playground and says "Peter, this medicine is really yummy, you should have some," what do you say?

Peter: (Laughing harder) I say no.

Me: That's right. You say "Nope, I only take medicine from my Mom and Dad."

They're never too young, right?

The First

Cooper turned 1 last week. To celebrate he got to have cow's milk for the first time and had a birthday oatmeal muffin. I know lots of people that look forward to watching their child get all messy with frosting from their first birthday cake, but we're not so into that. To each his own.

Enjoy watching Cooper give us perplexed stares as we try to get him to open his presents. There are also a few darling smiles. It's just over two minutes long, but that's a solid two minutes shorter than it used to be!

A Post-Mortem

Thanks for the comments that I got for my talk. I read the articles that you all suggested and prayed and waited for the direction of the Spirit as to how I should approach the topic. That inspiration struck at 11 o'clock on Saturday night. I finished at 2 o'clock Sunday morning. I almost started my talk by saying "This talk was brought to you today by my husband, who got up with my boys this morning so that I could sleep until almost 11." Anyway, I think it went pretty well. After I sat down I thought of all the other things that I had wanted to say, but I hope I said what they needed to hear.

I usually don't write out my talks. I practice them, and I write notes for myself so I don't get lost in what I'm saying, but this was the first time since I was in Primary that I actually wrote everything out. I think it was because I finished at such an insane hour that I felt the prompting to write it out, otherwise I never would have remembered what I was supposed to say.

I'm going to include my talk, in case you're interested in what I said. I didn't read it word for word, but I stuck fairly closely to what I had planned. It looks long, but it only took me my allotted 12 minutes to deliver it!

The Talk:

When I was 6 I decided I wanted to be a photographer. I’m not sure I even really knew what a photographer did, but it sounded cool. This interest lasted until the Christmas that I was 10. That year I got something I had been asking for for years: a camera. I took pictures of my brothers, my sister, my mom, my dad and our cat. After developing the first roll of film I discovered something important: I had no natural talent when it came to taking pictures.

Then when I was 15 I decided I wanted to be a high school drama teacher. I had been doing theatre for almost 10 years and felt more than qualified to teach my drama classes. Most of that was pride, but I did some have some natural talent in that area. When I went to BYU, I studied Theatre Education. I even have a pretty white paper with a big official seal hanging on our office wall that says I’m a college graduate and qualified to teach. But after 6 years of college, I wasn’t ready to jump back into a classroom.

I don’t remember the moment that it happened, but sometime in that 6 years I decided that I wanted to be a mom. I had always wanted to be a mom, but I had thought of it as an “and”. “I want to be photographer and a mom.” “I want to be a drama teacher and a mom.” I came to a point where I just wanted to be a mom, no and. This was at least a few years before our first son was born.

In the General Relief Society Broadcast in 2001 Sheri Dew said “Of all the words they could have chosen to define her role and her essence, both God the Father and Adam called Eve “the mother of all living” 3—and they did so before she ever bore a child. Like Eve, our motherhood began before we were born. Just as worthy men were foreordained to hold the priesthood in mortality, 4 righteous women were endowed premortally with the privilege of motherhood… It is the essence of who we are as women. It defines our very identity, our divine stature and nature, and the unique traits our Father gave us. (Sheri L. Dew, “Are We Not All Mothers?,” Ensign, Nov 2001, 96)

I felt like I was ready to take on that role of motherhood, but my schedule of events was not the same as the Lord’s. Sister Dew also talked about this. “For reasons known to the Lord, some women are required to wait to have children. This delay is not easy for any righteous woman. But the Lord’s timetable for each of us does not negate our nature. Some of us, then, must simply find other ways to mother.” I don’t mean to mislead you, our wait was not that long compared to many others, but it seemed long at the time. Peter was born almost 4 and ½ years after Bryan and I were married. He came when he was supposed to. And I am so thankful for him and for Cooper who was born a year ago. Being a mom is the best job that I have ever had. It brings me so much joy.

But because there is opposition in all things, being a mother is also hard. I am almost always tired. My mind is rarely still. I worry about my children’s safety, their development, their future. And I feel the weight of the responsibility of motherhood.

In 1987 President Ezra Taft Benson spoke to the women of the church. He titled his talk “To the Mothers in Zion”. Think about that phrase: to the Mothers in Zion. How are they different from the mother’s of the world? What do they know that other mothers don’t? What does it mean to be a mother in Zion?

Six years before speaking to the women of the church about being mothers in Zion, President Benson said, “Since the beginning, her role has been to teach her children eternal gospel principles. She is to provide for her children a haven of security and love—regardless of how modest her circumstances might be.”

Did you catch those two things? A mother in Zion teaches her children eternal gospel principles and provides a haven of security and love.

In her talk Mother’s That Know from the October 2007 General Conference Sister Julie B. Beck said, “Mothers who know are always teachers. Since they are not babysitters, they are never off duty. A well-taught friend told me that he did not learn anything at church that he had not already learned at home. His parents used family scripture study, prayer, family home evening, mealtimes, and other gatherings to teach. Think of the power of our future missionary force if mothers considered their homes as a pre–missionary training center. Then the doctrines of the gospel taught in the MTC would be a review and not a revelation. That is influence; that is power.”

When Peter was a small baby I went to the Distribution Center and bought The Book of Mormon Reader that the church produced, the comic-book version of the scriptures. I read it to Peter every day. Sometimes we would only get through one panel. Sometimes we would read three chapters. Over time I bought the picture readers for the Old Testament, the New Testament, and the Doctrine and Covenants. I have no idea how many times we’ve read each one, because each time we finish, we go pull another one off the shelf and start again. Peter and Cooper know that one of the things we do while we eat breakfast is read the scriptures. We have missed days, and those tend to be harder than the days that we make time to read the scriptures together. I’ve noticed that I have more patience and compassion when we’ve had our breakfast-time scripture study. One of the most exciting things for me is the look of recognition in Peter’s eyes when someone speaks in Sacrament Meeting about a story that we have read recently. He’ll turn to me and say, “Mom, he said Lehi, like in our scriptures.”

From his talk To the Mothers in Zion, President Benson said, “…Take time to teach your children… A mother’s love and prayerful concern for her children are her most important ingredients in teaching her own… This is the Lord’s way of teaching… Your children will remember your teachings forever, and when they are old, they will not depart from them.”

So a mother in Zion teaches her children. She also creates a haven of safety and love. In fact, those two things go hand in hand. I teach my children because I love them and want them to be safe. I also hold them and read to them and sing with them. And I tell them whenever I think of it that I love them.

We have been trying to teach Peter the importance of listening when we call him. This past week we have started a new practice. When we call his name he is supposed to stop what he’s doing, look at us, and say “What Mommy?” or “What Daddy?” depending on who’s calling him. This also helps us stay calm because we know we have his attention. I realized during the first day that every time we called his name it was to ask him to do something or to tell him to stop doing whatever he was doing. His listening skills were decreasing and so was my patience. So the next time I got his attention the exchange went like this,

“Peter?”

“What Mommy?”

“I love you.”

He was so delighted that I wasn’t scolding him that his face lit up with a smile. He looked at me and said,

“Mommy?”

I played along and said, “What Peter?”

“I love you too.”

Tell your children that you love them. Show them you love them by making them a priority in your life. Blessings of peace and joy will come to you because of it.

I would add one more aspect to being a mother in Zion. You are never alone. You can have the companionship of the Holy Ghost. I don’t know what I would do without the promptings that come daily about what my boys need. You also have a Bishopric, a Relief Society Presidency, Home Teachers, and Visiting Teachers who are ready and willing to help. Most importantly, we can turn to Jesus Christ. Barbara Thompson, Second Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency said, “Christ has suffered everything we could possibly imagine. He knows how we feel. He understands. He will help.”

President Hinckley said, “I remind mothers everywhere of the sanctity of your calling. No other can adequately take your place. No responsibility is greater, no obligation more binding than that you rear in love and peace and integrity those whom you have brought into the world.”

I have no diploma to prove that I can be a mom. I did not attend classes on how to have patience when you haven’t showered in three days and only slept for two hours. Even without those I know that this is my job. I know that I was set-apart before I came to this earth to be a mother, as were all women. Mothers, teach your children. Love them. Know that you are never alone.

A final thought from Sister Dew: “Never has there been a greater need for righteous mothers—mothers who bless their children with a sense of safety, security, and confidence about the future, mothers who teach their children where to find peace and truth and that the power of Jesus Christ is always stronger than the power of the adversary. Every time we build the faith or reinforce the nobility of a young woman or man, every time we love or lead anyone even one small step along the path, we are true to our endowment and calling as mothers and in the process we build the kingdom of God. No woman who understands the gospel would ever think that any other work is more important or would ever say, “I am just a mother,” for mothers heal the souls of men.”

Motherhood is not an “and”. It is not a “just”. I leave my testimony that these things are true, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Sleeping Like a Baby

The way they sleep is a good indication of the differences in their personalities. Peter tends to be all over the place while Cooper likes to kick back and watch what's going on around him. Unless Peter is playing with him, then he's crazy too. Boys are fun. Really.

The Speaker of the House

In our last ward almost every talk in Sacrament Meeting began "I got a call from Brother So-and-so this week and I almost didn't answer because I knew he would ask me to speak in church. And he did! So the moral is, avoid his calls." Cue laughter.

One more piece of evidence that I skip to my own beat (or am the mother of my head, as my sister said once when she was two), I like to speak in church. Please understand, I get nervous just like everyone else, and I'm relieved when it's over, but I also enjoy the challenge.

Today I was checking to see if my sister (who is still the mother of her head, by the way) had sent her weekly missionary email yet. I noticed a message from the wife of one of the members of our Bishopric. Upon opening, I found that it was actually from her husband, apologizing for asking through email, and wondering if I would fill in for a speaker that had had to cancel. My first thought was, "Sure, I can do that." Then I saw the topic they want me to speak on: Being a mother in Zion. At which point I laughed out loud.

You see, Monday was hard. Very hard. Lots of freaking out from all parties at my house. We could blame the time change, or general lack of sleep, but whatever the reason, it was not a good day. Tuesday and Wednesday were both great. On Monday night Bryan very calmly reminded me about some things we've been doing to exercise our patience and teach Peter to listen and pay attention. I've been employing these and life has been much happier. But Monday is still hanging over my head.

With that, I ask you kind readers, if you have any good resources about being a mother in Zion. I have some thoughts and I'll be spending quiet time today and tomorrow on lds.org searching for material, but I could really use some additional insight.

Thoughts?

Fine Dining

A few days ago I got a call from someone in the ward asking if I would take dinner to a family with a new baby. Sure, no problem, I like to cook. I figured I would just make two of whatever we were having that night.

I woke up yesterday morning thinking about how I would plan my day to ensure that I got the food done and delivered at the appointed time. We had chicken enchiladas on the menu and they seem to be an easily transported meal. In the morning I cooked rice, Peter and I grated cheese (well, I grated, he ate), I cooked the tortillas (because we use these), I thought that we were well on our way to everything coming together on time.

The best-laid plans and all that. It wasn't until their pan of enchiladas was in the oven that I looked over and saw half a can of cream of chicken soup sitting on the counter, the same soup that should have been in the sauce that I had just poured over the full tortillas. I had left out the main ingredient. Frustrated, I realized I had totally messed up their dinner.

This is like the fourth time this has happened. Last year I took dinner to a new mom in the ward. I tried to make zucchini bread, but didn't have any eggs. I never have eggs these days, so I used a substitute. However, I also used honey instead of sugar because it was a double batch (half for us, half for them) and the loaf refused to hold together. Then there was the Spanish rice fiasco, which I won't go into. When I cook for us the food is fine, but when I have to take it to someone else, something goes terribly wrong. Okay, not terribly, but it's not great.

I ended up giving them the second pan that I had been making for us. Honestly, the flubbed batch wasn't bad, we could have given it to them. It would have saved me the stress of making a fast bunch of cookies to take as an apology, which they didn't need because the second pan came out in time to deliver.

Maybe next time I'll take them cheese sandwiches and oranges. I don't think I could mess that up.

A Different Perspective

Cooper pulled himself up to stand for the first time on Sunday morning before church. I think he, and Peter, have started to see a whole new world of possibilities...

I Won't and You Can't Make Me

I've decided to join the neighborhood book club. If you examine the requirements it seems like a solid fit:

• I love to read
• I love to talk
• I love to talk about what I read

The first month that I knew about the book club they read Freakonomics, which Bryan and I both thought was cool. However, I found out about it just before they met. The second month they read The Virginian, which I didn't ever get from the library and therefore didn't read, but I was going to go anyway, just to check it out. Unfortunately Bryan had to work late that night so I was absent. This month they're reading Three Cups of Tea. It sounds really interesting, and last Monday I borrowed a copy from someone in the ward. I'm looking at it right now.

So why haven't I read it yet?

Actually, I did read the introduction and part of the first chapter. So far it's engaging, but not engaging enough for me to read it consistently.

Here's my theory: Due to the fact that I'm reading this for the book club, I have a deadline and someone to answer to. Some people need this. It's one reason Weight Watchers and Jenny Craig are so successful; many people benefit from having to report their progress. I do not. Well, I may benefit from it, but I don't like it.

Perhaps reading this book, as entertaining and enlightening as it may be, is too much like homework. Do I still have homework burn-out? It's been almost five years since I graduated from college, shouldn't I be over all of that by now?

Well (sigh) I should go read now. Just in case there's a pop quiz...

His Father's Son

I think he's Googling how not to drop his fork...

Loser

Have you ever read a book that made you smile and broke your heart a little at the same time? I just finished reading Jerry Spinelli's Loser. Has anyone else read it? I almost stopped a few times because it was so hard to watch the main character, a little boy named Zinkoff, be totally oblivious to the fact that he was being mocked. And then there were golden moments that made me think and feel. I won't give anything else away about it, just in case you haven't read it.

I will say that it made me think a lot about how I am as a parent. If you're reading this then you're probably well aware that I'm kind of quirky. I know that I'm passing on at least some of that off-beat gusto to my boys. Most of the time I think that's a good thing. Like yesterday, Peter "helped" me mop the kitchen and dining room floors (it had been a while since that chore was done, so it was novel for him). I would take a turn mopping a section of the floor, then he would have a chance to go over the same section of floor. When the job was done I said "Thank you so much for helping me mop the floor Peter. I really appreciate it." His reply: "You're so very welcome." That's kind of a funny thing to hear a three-year-old boy say. I beamed a bit, but later (while reading this book) I wondered if that was the kind of thing that was going to draw ridicule later on.

I want him to learn to be himself, but I also don't want him to be a victim. Are these things mutually exclusive? He's still so young and full of energy and excitement. He jumps up and down and laughs with delight when he's amused. I love that. I don't want him to decide he's too cool to be jubilant. But I also cringe at the thought of some middle-school student laughing and pointing at a twelve-year-old Peter who still jumps and laughs when he's happy.

Now I'm just thinking out loud. No, not out loud. In blog? Through keys? Whatever.

You should read this book.

Double Standards

When you have a little baby you ooh and aah over everything they do. They burp, you clap, they smear food all over their face and clothing, you laugh, they suck their thumb, you tell them how cute they are.

Fast forward two years.

Your three-year burps, you remind him to excuse himself. He smears food all over himself, you scold him for making a mess and try to clean him up. He sucks his thumb, you relentlessly get on his case to get his hand out of his mouth.

Poor Peter. He sees us delight over all the little things that Cooper does, so he tries to do them too. Cute on an almost one-year-old is not the same as cute on a three-year-old. We've been trying to explain to him that just because Cooper does something, that doesn't mean that he should do it too.

Huh, maybe this is why he has refused to use the bathroom lately. Does that mean that Peter won't potty-train until Cooper does? That would not be awesome...

Buckle Up

Driving on the freeway heading home from Bryan's grandparent's house one evening last year I looked out my window and saw something that made me angry. Very angry. In the back seat of a car a fellow was holding a baby. No car seat, just his arms. I wanted to roll down my window and yell at him for placing his child (I assumed he was the father) in such incredible danger.

A few days ago I read about this car accident.

Yesterday Bryan sent me an article about a woman who was cited for nursing her baby while she drove. The mom was taking her other kids to school and it was time to feed the baby, so she did.

Honestly, how can someone think that is okay? I'm a big supporter of breastfeeding, don't get me wrong, but I in no way support acts of stupidity that endanger the lives of others. Car seats are wonderful and have a purpose. If you had a chance to keep your children safe, wouldn't you take it?

If your child is screaming and crying and you feel like you need to get them out of their car seat, pull into a parking lot and stop the car. Please.

Please Leave a Message and Someone Will Ignore You

I'm terrible at responding to messages. Emails, Facebook wall posts, phone calls, I have a hard time returning all of them. And the silly thing is that when I don't get that many messages I start to feel kind of sad because no one wants to talk to me. In reality they probably have left me a note and I just haven't written back yet.

I've been trying to figure out why I have such a hard time with this. Part of it is that I hate making phone calls. It scares me. I'm kind of awkward on the phone (More so than I am in person, although hopefully that awkwardness translates into funny individual who follows the beat of her own drummer. Or tuba player.) and I get anxious about what I'm going to say and who I have to talk to. I wish that everyone that answered phones would identify them self so that I don't have to make small talk trying to figure out if it's the person that I want to talk to or not. I'll often just ask straight out, even if I'm mostly sure it's the right person. Because I've been wrong before. (Once I thought I was talking to one of my eight-year-old Activity Days girls, but it was really her mom. Oops.)

My email and Facebook excuses are much lamer. See, I have this need to sound witty and clever (have you seen the title of this blog?) and often my brain is so tired from a long day of mommying that it's all I can do to slap together a blog post for the next day. (I write these at night and set them to post the next morning, just so you know.) By the time I finally check my email I'm barely able to form sentences, and not funny or interesting sentences either. And so I tell myself that I'll respond the next day. Repeat long day of saying things like "No Peter, don't throw your train tracks." and "People are not step-stools!" and I put off responding for another day. I get to the point where I can't remember if I wrote back or not because I was drafting a response in my head, but I'm not sure if it actually made it from my brain, out my fingertips, and into an email.

And how long is too long to send a reply? If something has sat in my inbox for six months should I just count it as a loss? Or should I still respond and hope that they forgive my extreme and lasting case of "mommy-brain"?

Please don't stop sending me messages, just know that it might take a little while to get a response.