I have a question: Why is it embarrassing to admit that you have a clean house?
Last night while Visiting Teaching the sister that we visit apologized for the state of her house. Her fiance was moving his stuff into the house in preparation for their nuptials on Saturday. The TV cabinet was a work in progress and there were a few wedding gifts here and there, but otherwise it looked clean. My companion said that she had kids so her house was a disaster. I said that my house was much cleaner that it was before I had kids, but it was still a disaster. We all laughed and moved on with the visit.
But here's the thing, my house isn't really a disaster. It's lived in, yes. There is currently three days' worth of junk mail on the counter (next to the trashcan), a pile of waiting-to-be-folded laundry on my bedroom floor, and a scattering of Cooper's toys on the floor near his toy basket, but overall it's pretty clean. And it's true, my house is cleaner now that it was before the boys were born, mostly because they're into everything and I'm trying to keep them safe. From my experience lots of other houses look like mine.
So why do we want to out-do each other with who has the messiest house? Is this a competition you really want to win? Are we trying to prove that we're human and normal and not intimidating because of our many talents and skills? Or are we afraid someone will drop by unannounced and see dishes in the sink, the laundry half-folded on the couch, and the nest of blankets in the middle of the floor that your kids have been jumping in (are my kids the only ones that do this?) and judge us for it? So we have to prepare them in advance so that reality looks clean and tidy compared to the scenario of destruction we've painted in advance?
What are we afraid of?
Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
The Author
On Tuesday morning Peter told me he wanted to be an author.
Me: You mean when you grow up?
Peter: No, now.
He told me he wanted to write a book and asked if I would make him one. So I did.
Then yesterday morning he said he wanted to write another book, but he wanted it to be bigger.
Look, he has a quarto and a folio now.
They're both called Peter's New Friend the Thin Fish. The large version doesn't have much content yet, but the smaller one has some delightful illustrations.
After he drew this he told me that he was in both pictures. And that he had really long arms.
I thought for sure he would ask me to write the text or at least how to spell the words he wanted to write. But he didn't. I looked over at him while I was preparing dinner and saw him writing the title.
Me: You mean when you grow up?
Peter: No, now.
He told me he wanted to write a book and asked if I would make him one. So I did.
Then yesterday morning he said he wanted to write another book, but he wanted it to be bigger.
Look, he has a quarto and a folio now.
They're both called Peter's New Friend the Thin Fish. The large version doesn't have much content yet, but the smaller one has some delightful illustrations.
After he drew this he told me that he was in both pictures. And that he had really long arms.
I thought for sure he would ask me to write the text or at least how to spell the words he wanted to write. But he didn't. I looked over at him while I was preparing dinner and saw him writing the title.
Peter Noo Frent = Peter's New Friend
The letters aren't all in order, Peter's brain doesn't always follow a linear pattern. But I think that's some pretty impressive sounding-out skills for a three-year-old.
If he's an author and illustrator at the age of three, what's he going to be at age four?
If he's an author and illustrator at the age of three, what's he going to be at age four?
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Girly-Girl
Facebook has a bunch of quizzes going around right now. What kind of 80's toy are you? What Beatles song are you? What's your patronus? What else should you be doing instead of taking this insipid quiz?I've taken a handful of them. The latest was How girly are you? You want to see my results?
Hey, are you even a GIRL? You are 0% girly! You tend to resist against girly style, likes to stay cool and hang out with boys. But be careful, being girly and sweet is what boys like, and what makes you a girl!It's sad but true. Maybe it stems from having two younger brothers so close to me in age, but I have always hung out with the boys. And I really don't like the color pink. I've taken some moments of introspection to try to figure out why. I think it's because pink seems weak to me. Isn't that terribly prideful?
In my defense I do own three or four pairs of high-heeled shoes and a fully stocked make-up box. And I know how to use everything in there. I just don't.
I guess it's a good thing I have little boys. Otherwise Bryan might have to learn how to paint toenails and french braid hair.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Hush Little Baby
Friday was momentous at our house. We moved Peter back into his room and we had Cooper join him. Peter was excited about having a roommate. Cooper just thought it was funny that his bed was in a weird room. We had talked about the logistics of this new situation and had decided to put the boys down at different times, waiting until Peter fell asleep before laying Cooper down. I didn't feel great about this strategy though because although Peter falls asleep faster, Cooper howls louder.
We did put Peter down first. Bryan sang to him while I held Cooper in the next room, waiting. After a few minutes Bryan came in and asked for Cooper. I thought he wanted some good Daddy/Cooper snuggling, but instead he had decided to put Cooper in his bed with Peter still wide awake.
Cooper started screaming as soon as his head touched his sheet. Bryan said goodnight to both boys and left. I thought Peter would be out any minute to tell us that Cooper was crying. I was wrong though. After a few minutes I realized that Peter was singing Come, Come Ye Saints, one of the bedtime songs that we sing to him. He was trying to help Cooper calm down by singing to him. I was so touched by that sweet big-brother gesture that my eyes filled with tears.
Cooper kept wailing and Peter kept singing. As we listened from the living room we realized that Peter's words were slowing down and getting harder to understand. He was falling asleep. And Cooper had stopped crying. At one point we think Peter told Cooper a story, but we weren't close enough to hear the details.
After the singing and storytelling stopped we heard Cooper call to Peter. Cooper sings, it's distinct from when he's talking. As Cooper spoke to Peter it sounded for all world like Cooper was asking Peter to sing to him some more. Ten minutes later I crept to the doorway to check on them and saw that both boys were asleep. I'm fairly certain that counts as a miracle.
Of course the next two nights they cried each other to sleep, but I'll hope that that's the exception and not the rule.
We did put Peter down first. Bryan sang to him while I held Cooper in the next room, waiting. After a few minutes Bryan came in and asked for Cooper. I thought he wanted some good Daddy/Cooper snuggling, but instead he had decided to put Cooper in his bed with Peter still wide awake.
Cooper started screaming as soon as his head touched his sheet. Bryan said goodnight to both boys and left. I thought Peter would be out any minute to tell us that Cooper was crying. I was wrong though. After a few minutes I realized that Peter was singing Come, Come Ye Saints, one of the bedtime songs that we sing to him. He was trying to help Cooper calm down by singing to him. I was so touched by that sweet big-brother gesture that my eyes filled with tears.
Cooper kept wailing and Peter kept singing. As we listened from the living room we realized that Peter's words were slowing down and getting harder to understand. He was falling asleep. And Cooper had stopped crying. At one point we think Peter told Cooper a story, but we weren't close enough to hear the details.
After the singing and storytelling stopped we heard Cooper call to Peter. Cooper sings, it's distinct from when he's talking. As Cooper spoke to Peter it sounded for all world like Cooper was asking Peter to sing to him some more. Ten minutes later I crept to the doorway to check on them and saw that both boys were asleep. I'm fairly certain that counts as a miracle.
Of course the next two nights they cried each other to sleep, but I'll hope that that's the exception and not the rule.
The boys' room.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Favorite
Bryan was putting Peter to sleep last night when Peter asked a question.
Peter: Daddy did you know that there are lots of Peters?
Bryan: Yes, there are other Peters.
Peter: Do you know any other Peters?
Bryan: Yes I do, but you're my favorite Peter and I don't want any other Peters.
Peter: I don't want any other Daddies.
Peter: Daddy did you know that there are lots of Peters?
Bryan: Yes, there are other Peters.
Peter: Do you know any other Peters?
Bryan: Yes I do, but you're my favorite Peter and I don't want any other Peters.
Peter: I don't want any other Daddies.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Please Don't Feed the Peter
Cooper was nearing the end of his diaper supply so I decided to change our shopping day for this week from Friday to Wednesday. The boys and I were almost done when a sweet grandma lady who was handing out samples approached us. I hadn't even seen her until she spoke. She had two little cups of crackers in her hands and said she thought the boys wouldn't like the dip, but they would probably like the crackers. She had almost put them into the boys' hands when I said "NO!"
She jumped back and looked at me like I was crazy. I quickly added that we have food allergies. After apologizing she headed back to her table with a look of both guilt and sadness. I called to her and said that I was sure they would love the crackers if I could just read the ingredients on the box. She had already thrown it away. Oh well. I hope I didn't scare her too badly when I yelled.
I've always been on the fierce side about what the boys eat. When Peter was little I had a strong impression that he shouldn't start solid food until the six-month end of the recommended window for that particular milestone. I was also neurotic about introducing new foods at least three days apart. I had no idea he had food allergies, I just felt like it was something I should do.
After he was tested (which happened after an allergic reaction and a trip to urgent care) I became, if possible, even crazier about what he ate. It wasn't just because I wanted him to have a healthy foundation, it was because I didn't want him to eat something that might kill him. The egg allergy isn't a big deal. He breaks out in hives (which admittedly doesn't sound fun) but that's it. And he even has a chance of outgrowing it. But the peanut allergy - that's scary. There's no real way to gauge how severe a peanut allergy is. Your first reaction might be mild and your second might send you into anaphylactic shock. We carry and know how to use an Epi-Pen, just in case.
I know that there are other much worse ailments in the world. So he can't have peanuts or eggs, it's not the end of the world. No, it's not. But it's amazing how many people give children food without asking their parents or even consider food allergies. I've had to specifically tell Nursery Leaders and Primary teachers what not to give him, or better yet, to let me know in advance so I can bring something for him that I know is safe. And I anticipate having to do the same with each new class he is in, both at church and at school.
Bryan pointed out that Cooper could have had the crackers. True, as far as we know Cooper doesn't have any food allergies, but cross-contamination is fear inducing.
Peter knows what he's allergic to, we taught him that as soon as we found out. He even talks about being a daddy someday and out-growing his allergies so that he will be able to eat peanut butter. (That's a little heartbreaking. He probably won't lose the peanut allergy.) And peanuts, and other major allergens, pop up in the weirdest places. Wal-Mart brand cottage cheese? Processed on equipment that also processes peanuts. Vanilla Wafers? Totally safe. Nilla Wafers? They have eggs.
Sometimes I imagine that Peter is on display in a zoo with a big plaque outside his cage that reads, "Please don't feed the Peter."
So, to that sweet grandma lady who just wanted to give the cute little boys a snack: thank you for your kindness, but no thank you. I'd rather not visit the emergency room today.
She jumped back and looked at me like I was crazy. I quickly added that we have food allergies. After apologizing she headed back to her table with a look of both guilt and sadness. I called to her and said that I was sure they would love the crackers if I could just read the ingredients on the box. She had already thrown it away. Oh well. I hope I didn't scare her too badly when I yelled.
I've always been on the fierce side about what the boys eat. When Peter was little I had a strong impression that he shouldn't start solid food until the six-month end of the recommended window for that particular milestone. I was also neurotic about introducing new foods at least three days apart. I had no idea he had food allergies, I just felt like it was something I should do.
After he was tested (which happened after an allergic reaction and a trip to urgent care) I became, if possible, even crazier about what he ate. It wasn't just because I wanted him to have a healthy foundation, it was because I didn't want him to eat something that might kill him. The egg allergy isn't a big deal. He breaks out in hives (which admittedly doesn't sound fun) but that's it. And he even has a chance of outgrowing it. But the peanut allergy - that's scary. There's no real way to gauge how severe a peanut allergy is. Your first reaction might be mild and your second might send you into anaphylactic shock. We carry and know how to use an Epi-Pen, just in case.
I know that there are other much worse ailments in the world. So he can't have peanuts or eggs, it's not the end of the world. No, it's not. But it's amazing how many people give children food without asking their parents or even consider food allergies. I've had to specifically tell Nursery Leaders and Primary teachers what not to give him, or better yet, to let me know in advance so I can bring something for him that I know is safe. And I anticipate having to do the same with each new class he is in, both at church and at school.
Bryan pointed out that Cooper could have had the crackers. True, as far as we know Cooper doesn't have any food allergies, but cross-contamination is fear inducing.
Peter knows what he's allergic to, we taught him that as soon as we found out. He even talks about being a daddy someday and out-growing his allergies so that he will be able to eat peanut butter. (That's a little heartbreaking. He probably won't lose the peanut allergy.) And peanuts, and other major allergens, pop up in the weirdest places. Wal-Mart brand cottage cheese? Processed on equipment that also processes peanuts. Vanilla Wafers? Totally safe. Nilla Wafers? They have eggs.
Sometimes I imagine that Peter is on display in a zoo with a big plaque outside his cage that reads, "Please don't feed the Peter."
So, to that sweet grandma lady who just wanted to give the cute little boys a snack: thank you for your kindness, but no thank you. I'd rather not visit the emergency room today.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Freezer Burn
Last night and part of this morning were rough, but we all seem to be feeling better. Peter had the bug the worst, then Cooper, then me. Bryan seems to have escaped unharmed and was sweet enough to stay home from work this morning to take care of us.
Cooper's main symptom was a high fever, which is always a little scary. We administered Infant Motrin and then brainstormed about what else we could do to bring his fever down. Bryan had made some white grape juice popsicles for Peter the night before so we figured now was as good a time as any to give Cooper his first taste of some icy goodness.
It didn't work quite the way thought it would.
I promise he's okay, but he clearly was not a fan.
Cooper's main symptom was a high fever, which is always a little scary. We administered Infant Motrin and then brainstormed about what else we could do to bring his fever down. Bryan had made some white grape juice popsicles for Peter the night before so we figured now was as good a time as any to give Cooper his first taste of some icy goodness.
It didn't work quite the way thought it would.
I promise he's okay, but he clearly was not a fan.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Silence is Golden... and Fleeting
Someone told me recently that men don't talk as much as women. I looked at her incredulously and said, "Then you've never met any of the men to which I am related."
My dad and my brothers all have the explaining gene. They like to tell you what certain things mean and why other things are the way they are and how they came to be. Bryan and his dad have a different variation of this same gene. They like to explain how things work, be it mechanically or politically. Peter seems to have gotten both versions. Even Cooper likes to explain things to us (often with great inflection and facial expressions), even though we don't speak his language.
I like to talk too, which means someone is almost always talking at my house. I'm a tad obsessed with building the boys' brains, so I've been reading since Peter was little about how to teach him. Many of the resources that I found said I should talk to my baby often, tell him what I'm doing throughout the day. So I did. I would talk about why I was chopping fruit or why the trees were changing color. Apparently I have some of that explaining gene too.
Peter's vocabulary is a testament to the success of this method. He correctly uses words and phrases like 'otherwise', 'injury', and 'speaking of'. I will gladly admit that I am proud of his verbal prowess.
I used to think it was silly and a little sad when I would hear other parents say something like, "Can't they be quiet for one minute? Why do they have to talk all the time?!" Don't we spend a great deal of time and energy teaching our children to talk? Why would we want them to be quiet?
Yup, that's what I thought. Until recently. While we've done a fabulous job equipping Peter with the ability to express himself clearly, we have failed to give him a mute button. What I mean is, Peter is always talking. ALWAYS. Yesterday in church I had to keep reminding him that it was not his turn to speak, it was his turn to listen. As that didn't stop him at all, we spent the remainder of stake conference standing in the back of the room. He was still talking, it was just too noisy for me to hear him.
I'll admit, I was pretty frustrated when we got home. I just wanted him to be quiet. Just for a few minutes so I could gather my thoughts and calm my nerves. But then I realized something. He was being quiet. He had climbed into my big comfy chair and was just sitting there, quiet. I thought I had hurt his feelings by insisting that he stop talking so I sat next to him to see what was wrong.
I asked if he was okay. He said no. Cue mommy guilt. I asked if his feelings were hurt. He said no. Cue mommy confusion. It was then that I kissed his forehead and realized that he was burning up. I grabbed the thermometer: 102 degrees. The rest of the evening was filled with shaking from chills, glassy eyes, vomiting, a priesthood blessing, sleep, and a broken fever. He said almost nothing from about 4:30 on.
I got my wish. He stopped talking. And I missed it. Of course.
I hope he feels better today. In part because I hate to see my children sick. But also because I miss his little voice telling me the profound and funny things that often issue forth from his brain. I'll take those explaining genes over silence any day.
My dad and my brothers all have the explaining gene. They like to tell you what certain things mean and why other things are the way they are and how they came to be. Bryan and his dad have a different variation of this same gene. They like to explain how things work, be it mechanically or politically. Peter seems to have gotten both versions. Even Cooper likes to explain things to us (often with great inflection and facial expressions), even though we don't speak his language.
I like to talk too, which means someone is almost always talking at my house. I'm a tad obsessed with building the boys' brains, so I've been reading since Peter was little about how to teach him. Many of the resources that I found said I should talk to my baby often, tell him what I'm doing throughout the day. So I did. I would talk about why I was chopping fruit or why the trees were changing color. Apparently I have some of that explaining gene too.
Peter's vocabulary is a testament to the success of this method. He correctly uses words and phrases like 'otherwise', 'injury', and 'speaking of'. I will gladly admit that I am proud of his verbal prowess.
I used to think it was silly and a little sad when I would hear other parents say something like, "Can't they be quiet for one minute? Why do they have to talk all the time?!" Don't we spend a great deal of time and energy teaching our children to talk? Why would we want them to be quiet?
Yup, that's what I thought. Until recently. While we've done a fabulous job equipping Peter with the ability to express himself clearly, we have failed to give him a mute button. What I mean is, Peter is always talking. ALWAYS. Yesterday in church I had to keep reminding him that it was not his turn to speak, it was his turn to listen. As that didn't stop him at all, we spent the remainder of stake conference standing in the back of the room. He was still talking, it was just too noisy for me to hear him.
I'll admit, I was pretty frustrated when we got home. I just wanted him to be quiet. Just for a few minutes so I could gather my thoughts and calm my nerves. But then I realized something. He was being quiet. He had climbed into my big comfy chair and was just sitting there, quiet. I thought I had hurt his feelings by insisting that he stop talking so I sat next to him to see what was wrong.
I asked if he was okay. He said no. Cue mommy guilt. I asked if his feelings were hurt. He said no. Cue mommy confusion. It was then that I kissed his forehead and realized that he was burning up. I grabbed the thermometer: 102 degrees. The rest of the evening was filled with shaking from chills, glassy eyes, vomiting, a priesthood blessing, sleep, and a broken fever. He said almost nothing from about 4:30 on.
I got my wish. He stopped talking. And I missed it. Of course.
I hope he feels better today. In part because I hate to see my children sick. But also because I miss his little voice telling me the profound and funny things that often issue forth from his brain. I'll take those explaining genes over silence any day.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Sloth: The Comeback Tour
Do you ever have a day where your brain is just fuzzy? Well, not actually fuzzy (because that would be gross), just not at peak performance? Yesterday was one of those days. Every so often I would rouse from my daze and wonder what the heck was going on. Was I tired? (Regularly.) Was I dehydrated? (Possibly.) Was I just having an out-of-mind experience? (Probably not.)
I felt like I was walking through brain fog for most of the day. My responses were slower than usual and my verbal intelligence was sadly diminished. Why is it that I seem so prone to sloth? Seriously. Wrath? No thanks. Gluttony? Not so much. Sloth? Yes please!
Bryan and I were talking about this a few days ago as we lolled on the couch and stared aimlessly at the TV. We easily fall prey to sloth. I think it's because we run so hard during the day that by the time the boys go to bed our get-up-and-go has gone. Usually I can stave it off until bedtime. But yesterday, from quiet-time on, I was a zombie. I did push myself long enough to wipe Cooper's half mushed peas off the dining room floor and throw his toys into a basket, but that's it. I was even too out of it to turn on the TV. Bryan had to work late and I had decided not to watch The Office so we could watch it together later, but I didn't even have the energy to push that little button that changes the TV from one mind-numbing channel to another. Now that's just sad.
Here's hoping that my brain is fog-free today! At least until bedtime.
I felt like I was walking through brain fog for most of the day. My responses were slower than usual and my verbal intelligence was sadly diminished. Why is it that I seem so prone to sloth? Seriously. Wrath? No thanks. Gluttony? Not so much. Sloth? Yes please!
Bryan and I were talking about this a few days ago as we lolled on the couch and stared aimlessly at the TV. We easily fall prey to sloth. I think it's because we run so hard during the day that by the time the boys go to bed our get-up-and-go has gone. Usually I can stave it off until bedtime. But yesterday, from quiet-time on, I was a zombie. I did push myself long enough to wipe Cooper's half mushed peas off the dining room floor and throw his toys into a basket, but that's it. I was even too out of it to turn on the TV. Bryan had to work late and I had decided not to watch The Office so we could watch it together later, but I didn't even have the energy to push that little button that changes the TV from one mind-numbing channel to another. Now that's just sad.
Here's hoping that my brain is fog-free today! At least until bedtime.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Side Effects May Include...
...weight loss, decreased lethargy, and lower cholesterol. Results may vary.
Does this mean we have to keep them in a locked cabinet and administer them every 4-6 hours or as directed by our doctor? Cooper will not be pleased...
Does this mean we have to keep them in a locked cabinet and administer them every 4-6 hours or as directed by our doctor? Cooper will not be pleased...
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Meet Franklin
This is Franklin.
He's the main character of Paulette Bourgeois and Brenda Clark's popular series of books. He even has his own television show.
And he's Peter's best friend.
Franklin has been a part of our lives for more than a year now. He joined us shortly after Cooper did. For a while it was very sweet, Peter would tell me that Franklin was eating dinner with us or going to the store with us. Then it took a darker turn. Whenever Peter did anything naughty it was because Franklin told him to. Franklin has been grounded and sent home from the park. Multiple times. It's been better for the last few months. Peter even told me that Franklin was a good turtle now.
Last week Peter told me something shocking: Franklin had died.
Me: Peter, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?
Peter: Uh-huh. We sang a song for him.
Me: Did you have a funeral?
Peter: No. We had a funeral song. We sang a sad song for Franklin.
Me: Oh. Well, do you need a hug?
Peter: No, but Franklin does.
This was in the middle of last week. On Saturday we were planting our garden when Peter pulled out his cell phone (one of Bryan's old phones) and started talking.
Me: Peter, who are you talking to?
Peter: Franklin.
Me: But I thought Franklin died.
Peter: He did. He was resurrected. Has Jesus come again?
Me: Not yet.
Peter: Oh. Well he was still resurrected.
Oh, of course. Why didn't I think of that?
He's the main character of Paulette Bourgeois and Brenda Clark's popular series of books. He even has his own television show.
And he's Peter's best friend.
Franklin has been a part of our lives for more than a year now. He joined us shortly after Cooper did. For a while it was very sweet, Peter would tell me that Franklin was eating dinner with us or going to the store with us. Then it took a darker turn. Whenever Peter did anything naughty it was because Franklin told him to. Franklin has been grounded and sent home from the park. Multiple times. It's been better for the last few months. Peter even told me that Franklin was a good turtle now.
Last week Peter told me something shocking: Franklin had died.
Me: Peter, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?
Peter: Uh-huh. We sang a song for him.
Me: Did you have a funeral?
Peter: No. We had a funeral song. We sang a sad song for Franklin.
Me: Oh. Well, do you need a hug?
Peter: No, but Franklin does.
This was in the middle of last week. On Saturday we were planting our garden when Peter pulled out his cell phone (one of Bryan's old phones) and started talking.
Me: Peter, who are you talking to?
Peter: Franklin.
Me: But I thought Franklin died.
Peter: He did. He was resurrected. Has Jesus come again?
Me: Not yet.
Peter: Oh. Well he was still resurrected.
Oh, of course. Why didn't I think of that?
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Tether Ball Skills
Last night for Family Home Evening we read a story from The Friend (something we do for almost all our FHEs) and took a walk as a family. We watered our garden, got our mail, and ended the evening at the park. Our park is special, not just because it's across from our front door, but because it has a tether ball pole.
Peter and I have stopped at the tether ball before, but this was the first time that Bryan had been with us. Cooper and I sat on the sidelines as Bryan attempted to instruct Peter in the finer points of the tether ball. And by finer points, I mean to hit the ball and not swing on the rope. Bryan would hit the ball towards Peter and say, "Peter, hit the ball! Hit the ball!" And Peter would jump up and down and flap his arms while squealing with excitement.
I sat there watching, thinking, "Oh dear, I think he inherited my athletic ability. But wait, maybe I just don't try enough. We had a tether ball pole growing up. I can do this." So I hopped up, kissed Cooper in his stroller, and joined in the game.
Peter and I were on one team, Bryan on the other. Bryan grabbed the ball and gave it a smack. I told myself I was going to hit the ball. I reached my hand up and then pulled it back down. That ball was going really fast and I was imagining how hard it was going to hit my hand. I started laughing out of embarrassment. Then, still laughing, I kept jumping up, trying to hit the ball. After a few minutes of this I looked over at Peter and realized something. I was jumping up and down, squealing, and waving my arms as I tried to hit the ball. Just like Peter.
He really did inherit my athletic abilities.
Poor kid...
Peter and I have stopped at the tether ball before, but this was the first time that Bryan had been with us. Cooper and I sat on the sidelines as Bryan attempted to instruct Peter in the finer points of the tether ball. And by finer points, I mean to hit the ball and not swing on the rope. Bryan would hit the ball towards Peter and say, "Peter, hit the ball! Hit the ball!" And Peter would jump up and down and flap his arms while squealing with excitement.
I sat there watching, thinking, "Oh dear, I think he inherited my athletic ability. But wait, maybe I just don't try enough. We had a tether ball pole growing up. I can do this." So I hopped up, kissed Cooper in his stroller, and joined in the game.
Peter and I were on one team, Bryan on the other. Bryan grabbed the ball and gave it a smack. I told myself I was going to hit the ball. I reached my hand up and then pulled it back down. That ball was going really fast and I was imagining how hard it was going to hit my hand. I started laughing out of embarrassment. Then, still laughing, I kept jumping up, trying to hit the ball. After a few minutes of this I looked over at Peter and realized something. I was jumping up and down, squealing, and waving my arms as I tried to hit the ball. Just like Peter.
He really did inherit my athletic abilities.
Poor kid...
Monday, May 11, 2009
Thankful
I wrote last week about my family being in town, but I never wrote about why. Here's the reason:
My brother Ian, his wife Amanda, and their sweet daughter Clara were sealed for time and all eternity at the Salt Lake Temple. We've been looking forward to this since Ian and Amanda were married in 2007. I'm so thankful that they chose to become an eternal family.
I have a strong testimony of the importance of eternal families. I'm sealed to Bryan, Peter, and Cooper. I'm sealed to my parents. Having this eternal perspective reminds me of the necessity of building and maintaining relationships with my family. It helps me to stay calm on those days when my patience is running thin by reminding me of the big picture instead of the small moment I'm experiencing. It connects me to those members of my family that have come before me, and brings to mind those that will come after.
Congratulations Ian, Amanda, and Clara! We love you!
My brother Ian, his wife Amanda, and their sweet daughter Clara were sealed for time and all eternity at the Salt Lake Temple. We've been looking forward to this since Ian and Amanda were married in 2007. I'm so thankful that they chose to become an eternal family.
I have a strong testimony of the importance of eternal families. I'm sealed to Bryan, Peter, and Cooper. I'm sealed to my parents. Having this eternal perspective reminds me of the necessity of building and maintaining relationships with my family. It helps me to stay calm on those days when my patience is running thin by reminding me of the big picture instead of the small moment I'm experiencing. It connects me to those members of my family that have come before me, and brings to mind those that will come after.
Congratulations Ian, Amanda, and Clara! We love you!
Friday, May 8, 2009
Drumroll Please
This is a momentous post for two reasons. Not only is this my 200th post, but tomorrow is my blog's first birthday. So, to commemorate this joyous event, you get a bunch of pictures from when my family was in town. Huzzah!
Cooper and cousin Clara bonding. Or he's trying to escape from his stroller. I'm going with the first.
The whole gang, minus the missionaries.
When Bryan's family is visiting, Peter's shadow of choice is Spencer. When my family is here, it's my brother Jordan. Neither uncle seems to mind much.
And here's Peter doing a jig.
Finally, I have to include this picture that I took of the Salt Lake Temple. I rarely take such good photos. It would have been even better if I had rolled down my window. Oh well.
Happy Birthday blog! Here's to another year of cleverness!
Cooper and cousin Clara bonding. Or he's trying to escape from his stroller. I'm going with the first.
The whole gang, minus the missionaries.
When Bryan's family is visiting, Peter's shadow of choice is Spencer. When my family is here, it's my brother Jordan. Neither uncle seems to mind much.
And here's Peter doing a jig.
Finally, I have to include this picture that I took of the Salt Lake Temple. I rarely take such good photos. It would have been even better if I had rolled down my window. Oh well.Happy Birthday blog! Here's to another year of cleverness!
Thursday, May 7, 2009
A Breath of Fresh Air
Every year I set a goal not to turn on our air conditioner until July. I don't like to spend money, especially on something that I can do without.
Our first apartment had a slightly scary, highly ineffective AC/heating unit under the front window. We learned that it was okay to be slightly, or very, warm all summer.
Our second apartment (Wymount) didn't have AC at all and I didn't want to shell out the $200 to buy a window unit. Most of the time open windows and well-positioned fans were more than adequate. I do remember walking home from campus and lying on my bed in front of the fan, hoping my body temperature would return to a normal level so that I could be somewhere other than right in front of the fan.
Our third apartment was where Peter joined us. I finally broke down and agreed that a window air conditioner was an important purchase so we could keep the baby cool. Bryan, who is ALWAYS warmer than I am, was truly thankful. But we didn't buy it until July, thus the July rule was born.
We had no control over the thermostat of our fourth apartment. We were at the temperature-mercy of our apparently over-heated landlords upstairs. The AC turned on in March. I remember very clearly holding a newborn Cooper and thinking how nice it was that I could open the front door and let in fresh air through the screen when the air conditioning turned on. And it stayed on. Until October. I would open the windows every morning just to warm the place up.
And that brings us to our fifth dwelling place. I am currently sitting in front of an open window, taking in deep fresh-air breaths and basking in the late evening smell of the out-of-doors. I'm also wondering why almost all of my neighbors have been running their AC for almost a month now. Do we get a different breeze than they do? Are we the only ones that open our windows?
Do yourself a favor, open your windows today, even if it's just in the morning or evening. Fresh air is heavenly, and totally free.
Our first apartment had a slightly scary, highly ineffective AC/heating unit under the front window. We learned that it was okay to be slightly, or very, warm all summer.
Our second apartment (Wymount) didn't have AC at all and I didn't want to shell out the $200 to buy a window unit. Most of the time open windows and well-positioned fans were more than adequate. I do remember walking home from campus and lying on my bed in front of the fan, hoping my body temperature would return to a normal level so that I could be somewhere other than right in front of the fan.
Our third apartment was where Peter joined us. I finally broke down and agreed that a window air conditioner was an important purchase so we could keep the baby cool. Bryan, who is ALWAYS warmer than I am, was truly thankful. But we didn't buy it until July, thus the July rule was born.
We had no control over the thermostat of our fourth apartment. We were at the temperature-mercy of our apparently over-heated landlords upstairs. The AC turned on in March. I remember very clearly holding a newborn Cooper and thinking how nice it was that I could open the front door and let in fresh air through the screen when the air conditioning turned on. And it stayed on. Until October. I would open the windows every morning just to warm the place up.
And that brings us to our fifth dwelling place. I am currently sitting in front of an open window, taking in deep fresh-air breaths and basking in the late evening smell of the out-of-doors. I'm also wondering why almost all of my neighbors have been running their AC for almost a month now. Do we get a different breeze than they do? Are we the only ones that open our windows?
Do yourself a favor, open your windows today, even if it's just in the morning or evening. Fresh air is heavenly, and totally free.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Sleepover
Remember how I wanted to move the boys into the same room? Well, they're in the same room, although it didn't go down in quite the way we had envisioned.
When Bryan's family came a few weeks ago we moved Peter's little bed into our room and we all camped out so that others could use Peter's room. We knew that my family would we joining us soon so we didn't move him back right away. In the few days between visits we would say goodnight to Peter in his room in his big bed and wake up to Peter in our room is his little bed.
Our nightly sleepovers.
Bonus: the incredible blanket my sister-in-law Amanda made for Cooper. She looked at a map and then cut out the continents for the earth. Amazing.
My family left on Sunday morning and we still haven't moved Peter's bed back. It might sound odd, but Bryan and I both kind of like having him in our room. It's much easier to check on him when he's right next to us. And we agreed tonight that this is a great way to get the boys used to sleeping in the same room. We'll move them into Peter's (or "the boys'" once they're both in there) room at the same time.
But not yet.
When Bryan's family came a few weeks ago we moved Peter's little bed into our room and we all camped out so that others could use Peter's room. We knew that my family would we joining us soon so we didn't move him back right away. In the few days between visits we would say goodnight to Peter in his room in his big bed and wake up to Peter in our room is his little bed.
Our nightly sleepovers.Bonus: the incredible blanket my sister-in-law Amanda made for Cooper. She looked at a map and then cut out the continents for the earth. Amazing.
My family left on Sunday morning and we still haven't moved Peter's bed back. It might sound odd, but Bryan and I both kind of like having him in our room. It's much easier to check on him when he's right next to us. And we agreed tonight that this is a great way to get the boys used to sleeping in the same room. We'll move them into Peter's (or "the boys'" once they're both in there) room at the same time.
But not yet.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
To Meat, or Not To Meat?
Bryan is a carnivore. Okay, not really. He's an omnivore, but he leans heavily toward the meat. Polish sausage, pork chops, salmon, anything in roast form. But his favorite is beef, specifically steak.
I didn't eat much red meat growing up. My parents usually cooked with ground turkey. There was also the lentil episode where everything that could be replaced with lentils was replaced with lentils. We ate steak occasionally when we visited my Grandma, but only because she would prepare it for us, we never actually requested it.
Cooper eats just about anything we put in front of him. Custard, good. Jam, good. Meat, good. (We don't actually feed him custard, but can anyone name that quote?) He's not picky.
Then there's Peter. He our herbivore. The boy loves fruits and vegetables (just like his mom) and regularly refuses to eat the protein on his plate (not at all like his dad). Well, he does love beans, so not all protein is shunned. Just the kind that came from a cow and sometimes a chicken. We hope he's not anemic.
It's kind of hard on Bryan. His two favorite foods are peanut butter and steak and Peter can't or won't eat either.
I didn't eat much red meat growing up. My parents usually cooked with ground turkey. There was also the lentil episode where everything that could be replaced with lentils was replaced with lentils. We ate steak occasionally when we visited my Grandma, but only because she would prepare it for us, we never actually requested it.
Cooper eats just about anything we put in front of him. Custard, good. Jam, good. Meat, good. (We don't actually feed him custard, but can anyone name that quote?) He's not picky.
Then there's Peter. He our herbivore. The boy loves fruits and vegetables (just like his mom) and regularly refuses to eat the protein on his plate (not at all like his dad). Well, he does love beans, so not all protein is shunned. Just the kind that came from a cow and sometimes a chicken. We hope he's not anemic.
It's kind of hard on Bryan. His two favorite foods are peanut butter and steak and Peter can't or won't eat either.
Monday, May 4, 2009
The Cop-Out
Have you noticed a trend on my blog recently? I'll give you a few hints:
That's right, I've been doing cop-out posts. You see, I made a goal for myself at the beginning of the year that I would post something every weekday. At first I would write sometime during the day and hope that I got the post up before midnight. Then Bryan suggested that I write at night and schedule my posts for the next morning, that way I would guarantee that something was posted instead of hoping for a few free minutes to write.
Most of the time this works well for me. I write after the boys go to sleep, which means I have the whole day to think about what I'll compose that night.
Here's the problem though: sometimes I'm tired. (Gasp! The mother of two active little boys, tired? No!) And sometimes my brain just doesn't want to work. On these nights I pull out my camera and click through to find something sure to be on there: cute pictures of the boys. They're always good for a post. I try to do this one, maybe two, times a week.
The last two weeks however I've made some exceptions. Bryan's family stayed with us the first week. I worked hard to have the whole week of posts ready to go before they got here. But I failed. I think I only posted two blog enteries while they were here, which is pretty good. I wanted to spend time with them instead of with my computer. My brother Ian and his family came out from Hawaii this last Tuesday and we've seen them off-and-on throughout the week. My parents, grandma, and brother Jordan arrived on Friday evening. My week has alternated between spending time with my family, and cleaning my house in anticipation of spending time with my family. And I probably spent a lot of time being a wife and mother too.
In other words, being clever has not been a high priority.
And so you get cop-out posts, easy posts, veering-dangerously-toward-mindless posts. Seriously, who puts the Golden Girls theme song on their blog? I do, apparently. The pictures of Clara and the boys were definitely worthy of posts, but they could have a used a little more writing.
Dear readers, I know there may not be many of you left after my last few posts, but know that I will do my best to limit the cop-out posts to only one per week.
Maybe two.
No promises.
That's right, I've been doing cop-out posts. You see, I made a goal for myself at the beginning of the year that I would post something every weekday. At first I would write sometime during the day and hope that I got the post up before midnight. Then Bryan suggested that I write at night and schedule my posts for the next morning, that way I would guarantee that something was posted instead of hoping for a few free minutes to write.
Most of the time this works well for me. I write after the boys go to sleep, which means I have the whole day to think about what I'll compose that night.
Here's the problem though: sometimes I'm tired. (Gasp! The mother of two active little boys, tired? No!) And sometimes my brain just doesn't want to work. On these nights I pull out my camera and click through to find something sure to be on there: cute pictures of the boys. They're always good for a post. I try to do this one, maybe two, times a week.
The last two weeks however I've made some exceptions. Bryan's family stayed with us the first week. I worked hard to have the whole week of posts ready to go before they got here. But I failed. I think I only posted two blog enteries while they were here, which is pretty good. I wanted to spend time with them instead of with my computer. My brother Ian and his family came out from Hawaii this last Tuesday and we've seen them off-and-on throughout the week. My parents, grandma, and brother Jordan arrived on Friday evening. My week has alternated between spending time with my family, and cleaning my house in anticipation of spending time with my family. And I probably spent a lot of time being a wife and mother too.
In other words, being clever has not been a high priority.
And so you get cop-out posts, easy posts, veering-dangerously-toward-mindless posts. Seriously, who puts the Golden Girls theme song on their blog? I do, apparently. The pictures of Clara and the boys were definitely worthy of posts, but they could have a used a little more writing.
Dear readers, I know there may not be many of you left after my last few posts, but know that I will do my best to limit the cop-out posts to only one per week.
Maybe two.
No promises.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
