Culinary Delights

When one is in transit, one chooses only the highest in quality to fulfill their dietary needs. And then, of course, they conduct themselves with the utmost in decorum.

Moving Day

Today is the day. We've got the truck reserved and the Elder's Quorum notified. Thanks to help from our families, our earthly possessions are neatly packed.

As an aside, I realized this week that I have no problem telling other people what to do. I've been doling out jobs to my siblings and Bryan's siblings for a few weeks now. Perhaps I could say that I'm bossy, but that sounds negative. Instead, I'll say that I have excellent delegation skills.

And since I can't lift ANY of our boxes full of stuff, I'm off to delegate some more.

35 Weeks

I am 35 weeks along today. Other than slightly swollen feet and the constant need to eat, I'm feeling pretty well. I'm hoping she stays in for the next 5 weeks so we have a chance to get settled in our new house. And, you know, so she can keep growing.

Civil Disobedience

Yesterday was a tough day for Cooper. There were many tantrums. Bryan's sister suggested that it's because his routine has been so disrupted with company and moving. That could very well be. He reached his breaking point at dinner last night. Perhaps it was a reflection of the water conversation last week, but this time he remained cordial.

Cooper: May I have some mustard (meaning Honey Dijon vinaigrette)?

Me: You still have some on your plate.

Cooper: (Much louder) May I have some mustard?

Me: (Pointing) Cooper, it's right there on your plate.

Cooper: (Nearing a full-fledged screaming tantrum) MAY I HAVE SOME MUSTARD?

Me: No Cooper, you still have some.

At this point he grabbed a handful of food to throw at me. I got a hold of his hand before he could chuck it. This made him even madder.

Cooper: (Now crying and very mad) May I hit?

Me: What?

Cooper: MAY I HIT?!

Me: Oh Cooper, you're tired aren't you? No, you may not hit.

Cooper: (Lots of tears)

I'm hoping that he feels better today.

But hey, at least he was polite.

Movin' On Up

We are not homeless!

And even better, we don't have to change wards. Or neighborhoods.

We hadn't spent a great deal of time looking in our development because everything seemed to be more expensive than what we had been paying. So the past two weeks have been filled with driving ten to twenty minutes one way to look at houses in other cities.

Then on Thursday a condo in our development opened up. Bryan emailed about it immediately and we saw it on Friday at noon. We took the application home, filled it out right away, and Bryan emailed it from work. Lucky for us, we were the first ones to apply, which is why we got the condo.

It's very much like where we live now, except that the layout is flipped (reversed?) and it's upstairs, which will be an adjustment. The stairs are part of the condo and carpeted as opposed to outside and concrete like some of the places we looked at, so I can live with it. Also, the walls are kind of a dark gray color and I'm just a little bit worried that it will be a lot darker than where we live now. I prefer to keep the lights off and the blinds open. I'm not sure how well that will work in the new place.

But dark and a place to live sure beats homeless with plenty of sunshine.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go pack.

Wild and Crazy Guy

My brother, sister, and grandma left our house on Tuesday morning to return to California. I loved that they came to visit and was sad to see them go. That same afternoon Bryan's mom, two sisters, and one of his brothers came to stay for a few days. Bryan's mom brought a small notebook for each boy (among other grandma goodies). Peter has been using his to write a story. He dictates and Nana Shari acts as scribe.

The shadowy cover of Peter's new book.

Now, for your reading pleasure, chapter 1:

Once upon a time there lived a cow named Crazy Guy Kukumusu. He lived in a blue house. His mom was named Margot. His dad was named Katrimi. There was a big monster who ate up their house after they moved. Then they found another blue house. Crazy Guy liked to play all the instruments in house. There was a guitar and bass and a piccolo and a microphone. And he had 12 cats, 100 dogs, a dozen fishes & fish tanks. The end.

He's on chapter four right now. I'm curious to see what's going to happen to Crazy Guy next.

Staypuff Marshmallow Mom

For the last two weeks I've had a problem with my feet and ankles swelling. A lot. They would go down at night only to return to their sausage-like state over the course of the next day.

I realize that this is probably a normal thing for most pregnant women, but I haven't experienced it since Peter was about three weeks from being born, and it was at that point that I was put on bed-rest for preeclampsia-like symptoms.

My feet never did this with Cooper.

A few days ago I awoke to discover that my feet were still puffy. My ankles had gone down in the night, but the tops of my feet had not. Not only was it worrisome, it was uncomfortable. I had to wear flip-flops to church on Sunday because nothing else would fit.

Tuesday night I went to Girl's Camp. Not to sleep (that would have been insane), just to participate in the skits. I knew I couldn't wear flip-flops, so I reluctantly pulled-out my sneakers and squeezed them onto my too-full feet. With determination I was even able to tie them.

I worried throughout the evening about my feet. I snagged a sitting role in our skit (one of the perks of being the director) and tried my best to stay off my feet, but I still had to walk around quite a bit. What would they look like at the end of the night? Would I be able to get my shoes off?

When I finally sat at my kitchen table at 10pm and began the process of pulling off my shoes I realized that although I was tired, my feet weren't sore. I got the shoes off, then went for the socks. Much to my delight, my feet looked normal. I mean, not-puffy-at-all normal. I could see my regularly bone-y and vein-y feet just like I used to. I think pulling the shoelaces tight over the tops of my feet helped squish out the extra water.

It was fabulous!

My ankles still look like they have small doughnuts around them, but I'm counting this as a victory.

Peaches For You, Peaches For Me

On Saturday night my Grandma, my sister, and I took lots of these:


And made this:


And these:


The peach jam is sweetened with honey and fruit juice and is oh-so-good. And, bonus, I now own my own water bath. It was a belated happy birthday present to me from my Grandma.

Since then I've been thinking about all the other things I could can. Strawberry jam, sliced peaches, tomatoes...

I'm very excited about it.

Is That Your Final Answer?

While running around his room after his Uncle Isaac, Cooper worked up quite a thirst. He paused from the chase and brought me his empty water cup.

Cooper: I need some water.

Me: (trying to elicit a particular polite word) What do you need to say?

Cooper: I need some COLD water.

Not exactly what I was going for...

Error Message

Question:

Has anyone else been having trouble loading movies to blogger recently? Not embedding them from YouTube, that I can still do. I mean uploading them from the computer or the memory card. I have been trying for the last week to upload a handful of clips and have been thwarted. And they're very cute movies, at least, they are if you're one of Cooper's grandparents. Or possibly an Aunt.

Any ideas?

The Man Your Grades Could Be Like

Remember this?

Now there's this:



Hurray for alma mater!

Ghost Writer

Have you ever written something fabulous and then sat there, pondering about what famous author's style you most take after? Well my friends, you are in luck. Bryan sent me the link to I Write Like, a delightful website that analyzes your writing and tells you whose style yours most resembles.

I entered three recent posts and found out my style is most like Vladimir Nabokov, Stephen King, and Ian Fleming. Huh, I would not have guessed that. I've never read any of these authors, so at least I can rest assured knowing I'm not plagiarizing anything. Also, does that mean my daily adventures with the boys are reminiscent of an intense horror novel? Or a thrilling spy adventure? I like to think we're more Chitty-Chitty Bang Bang than Carrie.

I also analyzed my brother Isaac's work (hello James Joyce), my sister Paige's work (here's looking at you Kurt Vonnegut), my Grandma (Dan Brown; perhaps she could be a best-seller too), and Bryan (while he does enjoy science-fiction, I've never read anything he wrote that resembles an Arthur C. Clarke story, but maybe I'm not familiar enough with Sir Arthur's work).

I'm curious, who do you write like?

Under Pressure

I've been sitting here, trying to think of what to write, but all I can think about is that we're almost to the middle of July.

And we have to be out of our house by the end of July.

And we still haven't found a place to live.

I have a big stack of properties to look at today, so maybe we'll find our next home this morning.

I hope.

To quote Bryan, "I just don't want to be homeless or living in a hotel."

Yeah, me neither.

Thoroughly Modern Grandma

Remember this post about all of the awesome things my Grandma Bonnie does? Well, I have a new item to add to the list:

Rockband

She played guitar on both Lego Rockband and Beatles Rockband, for about an hour.

That, my friends, is a look of pure concentration.

It was thanks to my brother Isaac that she even consented to join us. He kept trying to get her to play and she kept saying that she didn't think she could. Isaac finally wore her down and she gave it a try. And she had fun.


Does your Grandma play Rockband?

Friends with Children

My friend Charlynn put this on her blog. I thought it was worth re-posting. The question the person is asking the advice columnist: what do stay-at-home moms do all day? The columnist does a good job answering the question.

I think it's interesting that we, no matter who we are, often have to justify how we spend our time to someone else. Those without children seem to have copious amounts of time when viewed by their friends with kids. Those with kids who stay at home might seem to have endless leisure hours from the perspective of their working friends. Why is that? Is it a "grass is always greener" mentality?

You'll have to click on the article (which my friend got from the Washington Post) to read it. Do, and let me know what you think.

Two Years Later

My two youngest siblings

The day they both went into the MTC

are home from their missions and are at my house right now!

This morning at about midnight, sitting at my table.

Huzzah!

The Story of a Toy

We're having a "staycation." Yes, that is a made-up word (Bryan HATES it). Because we're here and not in California we've been trying to find fun stuff to do locally. Our big morning activity yesterday was something brand new for both boys.

We went to a movie.

In a theater.

And we stayed the whole time.

We took the boys to see Toy Story 3. In case you're wondering, all the positive reviews are true. It was a wonderful movie. And I cried. A lot. Not as much as I did during Up, but still quite a bit. Bryan told me that he got misty-eyed too. The boys really enjoyed the movie, especially Peter. Cooper stayed in his seat almost the whole time and sat on my lap for the few minutes he wasn't. Granted, many Red Vines and Smarties were required to maintain Cooper's cordial demeanor, but it was a special occasion, right?

Peter, totally enthralled in the previews, taken on Bryan's phone.

There was a moment toward the end of the movie that got particularly intense. Peter started to cry and shout, "What's going to happen to Woody? What's going to happen to Woody? I don't want to be here anymore!" Bryan pulled Peter onto his lap and held him until the scene passed. Peter was fine after that.

Cooper, digging his theater-provided booster seat, also taken on Bryan's phone.

I'm pretty impressed that Cooper stayed for the entire movie. I went expecting to have to take him out for at least part of the time. Also, we went at the perfect time. It was the first showing of the day. There weren't very many people there and those that were there were young families; I doubt that anyone was going with the expectation of complete silence.

Bryan and I agreed that it was the perfect first movie for the boys. And Peter has been asking questions about it ever since the movie ended. Lots of "why did this happen?" and "why did that happen?" He also pointed out that the voice of the pig was also the voice of Mac from Cars. He's already identifying actors and assembling their body of work in his head, which is further confirmation that he is my child.

I hope today's activities go as well as yesterday's did.

Friends: The Next Generation

While we are sad that we didn't get to go to California, there are two major bonuses to staying here this week, other than looking for a place to live.

1. Our house is wonderfully clean. We spent Saturday morning cleaning. Bryan mopped. This has been my job in the past, but I told him that pushing the mop around was almost more than I could think about doing at this point. I think he may have a new job around the house considering that he performed the task much faster than I do it. Of course, I always let Peter help me, so that might account for the additional time spent.
2. We got to see our fabulous friend Janet who we haven't seen in FIVE years.

The last time we saw her was when she and her husband graciously let us crash in their studio apartment when we visited them in Manhattan. At the time they had one baby. Now they have three. And we got to meet the other two.

Peter and Cooper made fast friends with all three kids. We got to go watch fireworks with them on Saturday night, because this is Utah and the Fourth of July was on a Sunday. Here are four of the five. The baby was asleep and therefore did not make it into the picture.

We also took some pictures of our family while we watched the fireworks. Or, at least, we tried. Most of them looked like this:

How is it the one with a background in theatre is the only one not pulling a funny face? We got one good one:


And here are Janet and I at the end of the night, which is why I look, well, I'm not sure how to describe the look on my face. Really tired? Frozen into a painful and awkward smile? Blinded by a series a camera flashes?

Thank you for spending the evening with us Janet! It was wonderful to see you again and to meet your boys, and to see how big all of your kids are.

Peter asked me today if we could move to Manhattan. When I asked why, he said it was so he could be close to his friends.

Yup, they were definitely a big hit.

500

This is my five-hundredth post. That boggles my mind. Five hundred. Have I really put that many thoughts done for others to read? Apparently.

I sometimes wonder if this blog is the best use of my time. I mean, almost every night I have to set aside thirty to sixty minutes to write. That's time that could be spent reading, cleaning, house hunting, packing, or even better, spending time with Bryan.

But then I look back at past posts. There are so many things I would have forgotten if I hadn't put them on here. Things the boys said and did, my own random thoughts. In a way, this is the best journal I've kept in a long time.

Good Things to Come

Oh LeMira, I'm so thankful that you put this on your blog on Friday. How did you know it was exactly what I needed?

It's Raining, It's Pouring

You know the phrase, "When it rains, it pours"?

Well, I think I need a better umbrella.

We've been planning for a few months to go to California for the 4th of July and the following week. We were going to stay with my family, go to the beach, and make our first-ever trip to Legoland.

Notice how I'm using the word "were" and not "are"?

On Wednesday we took our car in for a pre-trip check. Wednesday evening we got the call that the car checked out, with one exception. The transmission was giving a danger code. We're not sure what the code meant because this was not a transmission shop, but they could tell enough that there was no way we should take the car on a long trip. They referred us to a transmission mechanic and sent us on our way.

When we got home from retrieving the car Bryan and I were brainstorming solutions. Could we take our other car? No, it's in worse condition than the first. Could we fly? I'm not sure what the no-flying cut-off is for pregnancy, but I didn't think I would be welcome on a flight as far along as I am. Could we rent a car? We decided that that was our best option.

Less than an hour after we got home from picking up the car, we got a voice message. It was our landlord. Since it was the last day of the month and our rent is due on the first, Bryan wondered out loud if he was calling to tell us our rent was going up.

No, but in retrospect that would have nicer.

One of the hazards of renting someone else's house is that they can decide to kick you out at pretty much anytime.

Any guesses what the phone call was about?

It turns out that the fellow who owns our condo wants to move back into it. Which means that we have to move out. By the end of July.

When Bryan relayed the message, I laughed. It was a slightly crazy, you've-got-to-be-kidding kind of laugh. We had just learned that our car could require extensive repairs, and now we were being told we might be homeless.

Awesome.

Here's a fun fact: counting our impending move, we will have moved during each pregnancy. I was almost halfway along with Peter during that move and eight months along with Cooper during that move. I'll be close to eight months with this little girl by the time we move this time too.

We've known for some time that they might raise our rent, but we figured that the choice to move would be our own. This is the second time we've been told that we had a month to move because someone else wanted the house we were renting, whether it was the bank or the owner. I'm growing weary of living in someone else's home.

So, we've begun the search. I'm sorry to say that our current abode is so nice, we are now thoroughly spoiled. I remember writing the same thing about our last place, but this time we've had a garage. And a garden. And really wonderful friends and neighbors that I'm going to miss. And the boys' closet is the size of a small room and has acted as a toy room that we could lock at night. I might miss that the most. It's much harder to leave this neighborhood than the last one.

We told the boys on Wednesday night that we had to move. Peter cried. Based on his reaction we really didn't want to tell him the other part of our bad news: that since we had such a short time to find a new house, we had to cancel our trip to California. We reached this decision after much prayer, so we knew it was right, we just didn't want to see him cry again.

You know what? Both boys took it really well. We told them the trip was just postponed for a while, not really canceled.

And now, in addition to not seeing my family or my beloved Pacific ocean (which I miss terribly), Bryan and I will be spending most of our waking hours looking at listings for a place to live. We drove around and checked out our first batch last night. Nothing promising. We'll keep looking.

And praying.

Enlarging My Talents

I feel like my to-do list has a major deadline. I must have all projects for the year done by September 1. There are a handful of things I've been working on. So far, one of them is done.

I crocheted this afghan for my niece. That blue color is actually lavender in person. It's the biggest thing I've crocheted so far. I learned a lot while doing it, and now realize some things that I should have done differently. I think the next one I make will be much better. Oh well, I've got to learn somehow, right?