Sunshine

I'm feeling slightly desperate for throw-open-the-windows-and-breathe-in-the-delicious-warm-air weather. To make myself feel better I dressed Phoebe in a watermelon-clad shirt.

Doesn't it make you feel better too?

Change is In the Hair

My hair is long. Really long. I go through this cycle with my hair:

• I grow it out as long as I can because I know I'm getting older and maybe I'll be too old for long hair soon so I should have it while I can.
• My long hair just lays their because it's insanely fine.
• I get tired of my long hair.
• I chop off my long hair.
• I enjoy my short hair for a time.
• I miss my long hair.
• I grow out my hair.

Can you tell where I'm at in the cycle right now? I think it's time for a cut, but I'm not sure how short.

Suggestions are welcome.

It feels longer than it looks in this picture. Also, I'm wearing the same shirt I wore in this haircut picture. I did that on purpose. Well, it's really that I was wearing make-up and I was having a particularly good hair day, but I was at least aware that it was the same shirt.

The Nutty Professor

Can you tell what Peter is holding in these pictures?

We met with a new allergist a few weeks ago and got amazing news. After conducting both skin tests and a blood test we've discovered that Peter is not allergic to tree nuts! Wait, let me do that sentence justice.

PETER IS NOT ALLERGIC TO TREE NUTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is huge for us. He has since eaten almonds (the item Peter is holding in the pictures), pecans, and walnuts. We've discovered that most tree nuts are processed with peanuts, so it's been tricky finding other nuts that are safe, but we're still looking.

The allergist told us that Bryan and I are the only ones that should give Peter tree nuts. She said she's seen well-meaning friends and adults give peanuts to children thinking they were other kinds of nuts. I guess the assumption is that the parents will be far more conscientious than anyone else, and I think there's something to that. So when he starts kindergarten in the fall we will still need to tell his school that he needs to avoid all nuts.

In total Peter was tested for nine things: walnuts, cashews, pecans, hazelnuts, pistachios, peanuts, eggs, shellfish, and cats. He got a positive result on two of those: peanuts and cats. And another bit of good news? His score on the peanuts was really low. So he is allergic to them still, but not very allergic. He certainly can't eat them, but being in the same room as a peanut probably won't be a problem.

Hurray for tree nuts!

What Goes Up...

Peter is in the other room and I'm tied up for a few minutes. I can hear objects hitting the wall.

Me: (calling from the other room) Peter, stop throwing your toys! (thud)

Peter: I'm not throwing them! (thud)

Me: Peter! I can hear them hitting the wall! (thud)

Peter: No, I'm not throwing them. (thud) I made a lever and I'm putting the toys on one end (thud) and jumping on the other end and then they're flying through the air! (thud)

I'm glad that he's learning the wonders of science, but I really don't care for projectiles.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

I have this slightly irrational phobia. For some reason I think people won't remember who I am. Maybe it stems from my childhood (and adolescent, and young adult) ambition to be famous? Perhaps I think that because I'm just a regular person that people won't remember me?

Maybe it's because I've been called Megan more times than I care to remember, or that lots of people don't say my name correctly. I would never change my name, nor its spelling, but I have heard lots and lots of Margitts, Margotts, and Margretts. Is it that I think because they don't say my name right, they won't remember me?

This oddness exhibits itself in a handful of ways. One is at church. I'm continually amazed when people know my name. Or when they remember something I've done or said in Relief Society.

Another way is on Facebook. I'm one of those that only befriends people I've known in real life. So, in theory, I should feel comfortable commenting on or liking anything anyone on my list says, right? But I don't. I start to type in a comment, then I stop myself. I think, "Wait, has someone already said this? Am I being redundant? Do I comment on what they say often enough for this to even make sense? Have I established a strong enough feeling of familiarity between us for it not to be weird that I'm commenting?" Lately I've deleted most of my comments before I hit the share button.

Am I going through an identity crisis?

A few weeks ago I was feeding Phoebe and reading stuff on the computer when one of my Facebook friends opened a chat window with me. This is a girl that I had a class with at BYU, and I went to high school with her husband, but we don't really have a Facebook-chat kind of friendship, so I was a little surprised. She asked me if I could sew. Not really, was my reply. Turns out she was starting a long-distance quilting bee and she thought it would be great if I joined. I said I really wasn't a great seamstress, but she could send me the information in an email and I would make an informed decision.

I was flattered to have been invited (it's always nice to feel included), but I was a little perplexed. Why me?

I got the email a few minutes later. The moment I opened it and saw the first word, my phobia was realized. She had addressed it to my middle name. Now, I use my middle name on my Facebook page and my middle initial is part of my signature, but I have never ever gone by my middle name. Did she not remember who I was? Why on earth had she accepted my friend request? I think I just happened to be online when she was online and she was short participants.

Maybe it's not an irrational fear after all.

P.S. I'm not doing the quilting bee. Those examples she sent me (or that she sent my middle-named alter ego) were way beyond my skill level. You know, in case you were wondering.

One More Month

Do you know what happens one month from yesterday?

SPRING!

I've been reminding myself of that fact all day today. I can make it one more month.

One more month...

I'll Be Back

Cooper has an interesting dialect. This video doesn't do it justice, but we think he sounds quite a bit like the recently replaced governor of California.

Do you hear it?

Sibling Revelry

My brother is an opinion columnist for his University's newspaper. He wrote this. It's really good. I think you should read it.

That is all.

Spell Check

I was commenting on a blog post last night and wanted to use a word that I couldn't spell. This happens more than I would care to admit. My verbal vocabulary is, well, above average. My spelling skills? Not so much. Often I can just use spell check and move on. But sometimes I use words that the spell check doesn't know. It's not a problem though, because I have the nearly endless World Wide Web at my fingertips. Just a hop, skip, and a jump over to dictionary.com for the correct spelling.

That was where I journeyed last night. I pulled up the familiar site. But wait, something was different. It was fancy. There were games, helpful language-related tips, and sitting on the left-hand side of the page was the word of the day: uxorious. It was not the word I was looking for, but it was amusing. "Well," I thought, "this is kind of fun."

Then I typed my word into the search bar: dalliance. Actually, I typed 'dalience,' but I was directed to the correct spelling. And since I wanted to double check that that was really the word I wanted to use for this particular comment, I clicked on the link to take me to the definition.

I was directed to the page describing the origin of the word. Okay, that's interesting, now on to the definition. Except I couldn't get to the definition. All I could access for dalliance was the origin.

Really dictionary.com? You're not going to tell me what a word means?

Ladies and Gentlemen, may I direct you to Merriam-Webster's website for all your word defining needs?

Epilogue:

I looked up dalliance at dictionary.com again while I was writing this post. I was given the definition this time. I have no idea why it didn't work before. Maybe because I had misspelled it and the website deemed me unworthy to know the meaning of a word I couldn't spell?

Also, this post made me think of the one and only show I've seen on Broadway. Here's a clip from their performance at the Tony's in 2005. They really did bring an audience member into the show for every performance, although when I saw it the Reverend Al Sharpton was not in attendance.

V Day

We had a festive Valentine's Day at our house. Peter spent the better part of the morning making Valentines for, well, everyone he could think of. These are my favorites.

This is the one he made for Bryan. From left to right it's Peter, me, Phoebe, and Cooper, but you could probably tell that based on height. I love that Peter and Cooper are both holding the heart.

This is supposed to be me. A few weeks ago I taught the boys how to make a heart shape with their fingers so that's what Peter depicted here. And for the record I do not now, nor have I ever, had a uni-brow. Thank you.

We ate pink Malt O Meal (which is cheaper but not nearly as tasty as Cream of Wheat) for breakfast, we read all the Valentine's Day related books we could find in our collection, and we wrote out Valentines for some of our neighbors. Bryan made us a fabulous dinner of steak salad. He had asked each of us what we wanted to eat. Peter said steak, Cooper said chocolate pie, and I said strawberries. We each got what we wanted. It was delicious.

I think the best part of the day for the boys was when I let them eat chocolate/butterscotch chip cookie bars BEFORE breakfast. Or maybe it was the mini-chocolate pudding pies that Bryan made for our Family Home Evening treat, thus fulfilling Cooper's request.

Based on the look on Cooper's face, I think those were pretty successful. Either that or he's in a lot of pain.

Or he's a pirate.

Nothing Says Happy Valentine's Day Better...

...than a slightly blurry picture of a beautiful baby girl wearing pink.

Yes, I said pink.

Three's Company

Child's Play

What do you think the purpose of school is? Is it to learn facts? Acquire information? Become a critical thinker?

I read this article today about two different educational styles. It should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me that I'm a big fan of the play-based approach. (What? Someone with a degree in theatre education supports dramatic play? Really?) Although a combination of the two styles would probably be most effective.

What are your thoughts?

Bye Bye, Brain

Due to teething, Phoebe has decided that she prefers sleeping for two hours at a time. And that is all. The night goes like this:

• Feed Phoebe for an hour, maybe two
• Forget how tired I am and bask in the glow of holding a sleeping baby, for an hour
• Put Phoebe in her bed and try to get as much done as possible on my to-do list now that I have two free hands and three sleeping children
• Finally go to bed
• Wake up an hour later
• Feed Phoebe for an hour
• Sleep for two hours
• Feed Phoebe for an hour
• Maybe sleep for another hour, if the boys don't come wake me up

I'm not trying to complain (well, maybe I'm complaining a little), I'm just trying to illustrate the point that I am entering zombie territory here folks. Not the brain-eating-post-apocalyptic kind of zombie. More like the doing-dumb-stuff-and-falling-asleep-standing-up zombie.

Last night I went to have my pre-bedtime bowl of cereal. I opened the pantry to find a box of Life. Hmm, I thought to myself, I thought we finished this off during lunch (the boys woke up before I did yesterday morning and had a hearty and nutritious breakfast of vanilla wafers and goldfish crackers, so we bumped cereal to lunchtime) and I don't remember getting out another box.

I pulled it out and discovered it was full of the garbage I had cleaned off the table after lunch.

And I had put it away in the pantry.

I hope those teeth cut soon and that Phoebe starts sleeping more, because I miss my brain.

Say Ah

We waited until the boys were six months old to introduce solid food, but when I told our pediatrician about how Phoebe would lunge for our plates and chew as she watched us eat, he said he thought she was ready. She's five months old now, and was more than happy to eat some very watery rice cereal.

My favorite part about this movie? That the boys are way more excited about the food than Phoebe is.

Survivor

Last week my patience, creativity, and ability to juggle many responsibilities were tested. How was this exam administered? Bryan was on a business trip from Wednesday afternoon until Saturday morning. That meant that I was on my own with all three kids overnight for the first time.

We all survived.

My biggest concern was bedtime. Bryan is great at sending all of our children off to dreamland, but I can't get the boys to sleep. They fight and play and yell and have on occasion brought me to tears, all during the bedtime routine. It's awful. The few times I've tried to do it since Phoebe joined us, she's screamed the entire time I was reading books and singing to the boys.

See why I was nervous?

I devised a plan. I figured the only way to make bedtime work was to divide and conquer. First was Cooper. I read our two books and sang him a song as he was tucked in his bed, while Peter sat in the living room reading books. Then I joined Peter in the front and read him his books out there and prayed that Cooper had drifted off to sleep while I was with Peter. Then I walked Peter into his room, tucked him into his bed, and sang him his songs. Finally I fed and snuggled Phoebe, who was usually totally hysterical by this time because she really, really, really wanted to eat.

One key to the puzzle was making sure that Cooper didn't have a nap any of the days Bryan was gone. I felt kind of bad doing that to him, but on the days he naps he stays awake until ten, and that would have put a serious wrench in getting him to sleep before Peter. So every evening Cooper got to an amazing level of crankiness due to lack of sleep. But on the plus side, he was asleep within minutes at bedtime and didn't wake up during the night at all.

Peter did a great job of reading to himself and waiting for me to finish with Cooper.

We were all very happy to see Bryan on Saturday morning.

I don't like it when he has to be away, but it was kind of empowering to know that I can keep things together in his absence.

Dinner and a Movie

Cooper doesn't know the days of the week yet, at least not by their proper names. He does, however, know that each day has an assigned event. That's how he keeps track of what day it is. Saturday is bath night, Sunday is church, Monday is Family Home Evening, Tuesday is another bath night, Wednesday is when the trash truck comes, Thursday is the final bath night (yes we only bathe them three times a week; it's very dry here), and Friday is movie night.

Last year Bryan told me that he wanted to start having a weekly family movie night. I resisted at first, probably because I prefer to keep the TV turned off, but agreed that we could try it. Now, after having done it for about six months, I'd say that next to Home Evening, it's the best thing we do as a family all week.

We gather in the living room on Friday evening, spread an old blanket on the couch, and enjoy our traditional dinner of pizza while watching that night's film. And we take turns picking the movie. One tricky thing is that Peter is terrified of scary movies. What scares him doesn't really scare the rest of us. Some of the movies that Peter has deemed frightening:

• Iron Giant
• Up
• The Wizard of Oz
• The Incredible Mr. Limpet
• Mulan
• The Polar Express
• Beauty and the Beast

All of those movies do have intense moments (except for The Incredible Mr. Limpet, Peter was just freaked out that a man could turn into a fish) so I understand being a little scared. He tends to demand that we turn the movie off and watch something that he deems appropriate, like Bob the Builder or something with Thomas the Tank Engine. We very rarely comply.

It was my turn this week and I picked Beauty and the Beast. After lots of very loud complaining that he didn't want to see it because it was too scary, Peter sat down on the couch with me and Cooper. I asked the boys lots of questions while we watched, in part to test their comprehension, and in part to diffuse the tension that Peter was feeling.

About twenty minutes before the end of the movie Peter said, "Tonight I did what I did when we watched The Wizard of Oz."

My first thought was, "What, freak out?" But I didn't say that. Instead I said, "What was that?"

He answered without taking his eyes off the screen, "I was brave."

Dueling Readers

BFF

A few days ago we were all playing in the boys room. Cooper came to give Phoebe a kiss, as he often does, and told her, "Phoebe, you're my best friend."

Yesterday Cooper walked over to Phoebe for a hug and said, "Phoebe, I'm so glad you're here."

I think Phoebe is a very lucky little girl to have such a sweet big brother.

Priorities

I had great plans for tonight. I was going to fold the laundry I washed today, write up my posts for the rest of the week, maybe even bake a batch of bread.

Phoebe had a different idea.

She's been cutting her first two teeth and hasn't been feeling great for the last few days. Tonight, each time I laid her in her bed, she woke up crying in pain.

So I'm holding her. I've been holding her for the last three hours. Yes, I'm getting sore. No, I haven't done any of the things I meant to do tonight. It's hard to accomplish most of those tasks with a sleeping baby in your arms.

My list of chores can wait.