What Makes Boys and Girls Different

Peter (unprompted): There are boy unicorns and girl unicorns.

Me: Oh yeah?

Peter: Girl unicorns are pink and purple. Boy unicorns have flames.

Halloween Train

We Are All Enlisted

Have you read the talks from the Priesthood Session of the latest General Conference? Tonight as part of my scripture study I listened to Elder Jeffrey R. Holland's talk We Are All Enlisted. It is a powerful call to arms for missionary work.

While it was directed at the men, this talk hit me more than any other talk from those two days at the beginning of October. Could that be because I'm a mom to boys and so any talk to the Young Men about serving missions makes me pay extra close attention? Possibly.

Two quotes stood out to me, both near the beginning of the talk.

Number one, Satan, or Lucifer, or the father of lies—call him what you will—is real, the very personification of evil. His motives are in every case malicious, and he convulses at the appearance of redeeming light, at the very thought of truth. Number two, he is eternally opposed to the love of God, the Atonement of Jesus Christ, and the work of peace and salvation. He will fight against these whenever and wherever he can. He knows he will be defeated and cast out in the end, but he is determined to take down with him as many others as he possibly can.

As President Boyd K. Packer taught this morning, Satan cannot directly take a life. That is one of many things he cannot do. But apparently his effort to stop the work will be reasonably well served if he can just bind the tongue of the faithful.

If you haven't read it, do. Or you can watch/listen to it right here, without even opening another tab. It's worth the fifteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds.

Some of the Tools I've Been Using the Last Few Days

Slip of the Mind

I forgot to post today. Or rather, yesterday, since it's now after midnight and technically Tuesday. I kept putting it off and then I got wrapped up in a project and completely forgot about the blog until I looked at the clock and saw it was 12:03.

The project involved my sewing machine.

Pictures coming soon...

There and Back Again

Bryan took this picture of the St. Louis Arch on Monday morning. This week he's also been in California, Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, and Utah. He's been in every time zone of the contiguous United States.

We're glad he's home.

Clarity of Thought From an Alert Mind

The last three nights I got a proper amount of sleep. Eights hours Monday night, eight hours Tuesday night, seven hours Wednesday night.

Tuesday, Wednesday, and today have been the best three consecutive days I've had in ages.

I know that I keep learning this lesson over and over again. Sleep is good. Sleep keeps the crazy in check. Sleep helps me see my children as cute and sweet and funny, while lack of sleep has the opposite effect. Why can't I hold on to this oft repeated epiphany?

Little No Longer

Cooper woke up screaming about an hour after he went to sleep tonight. This happens occasionally. It takes time, but after we figure out what the problem is we can help him calm down.

While I tried to understand the unintelligible yelling that was coming out of Cooper, the still-awake Peter started getting antsy. Minutes before I had thought that the evening's bedtime routine had gone exceptionally well.

Peter asked if he could lie down in my bed while I helped Cooper. My initial response was to say no. Phoebe still sleeps in there (I haven't carved out the time to move her into the office and the office into our bedroom) and Peter is not a quiet child. The very real possibility of having all of my children awake and grumpy at that hour was not appealing to me.

But I stopped myself. I looked at him and said, "Yes, but only if you're completely quiet. No words. No sounds. Okay?"

He agreed and I scooped up his blanket and walked him in. He climbed onto my bed and under the covers and I kissed him goodnight.

Cooper calmed down. I never did discover what was wrong, but I guess snuggling and being sung to can cure any ill.

Peter kept his end of the bargain. He was silent. Phoebe did wake-up, but it was from an unhappy tummy and not from a loud older brother.

I just moved Peter back into his room. I picked him up and staggered under his lanky, fifty-pound frame.

When did he get so big?

How To Tell If You're Over-Using a Word

Your three-year-old starts using it.

Tonight at dinner Cooper picked a piece of Romaine lettuce out of his taco salad and said, "See, it gets all funky and wet when you put it in this."

"This" was ranch dressing.

Perhaps I use the word funky a bit too much?

The Perfect Dress

We went wedding dress shopping this weekend. My sister is getting married at the end of the year (which we are all thrilled about) and flew up for a quick dress-shopping visit. That means that the kids spent a long time stuck in strollers, not allowed to touch anything. A loooooong time.

I can happily report that we were successful! I took lots of pictures, including a few of the dress that won, but, just in case my almost-brother-in-law finds his way to the blog, I'm not going to post any of those. I will, however, post a few of the kids while they exhibited amazing amounts of patience.

Phoebe was entertained by her shoes (as long as I kept putting them on so she could take them off again) and Paige's very-small hairbrush. And all the pretty dresses. This girl does like clothes.

The boys were not at all entertained by the dresses. We brought the iPod loaded with movies and that kept them occupied. Well, it kept Peter occupied, Cooper spent most of his time attempting to grab dresses, wrapping his headphone cord around the bar of the stroller (until I took it away), and asking me when I was going to get married. We've had this conversation several times, but he can't seem to remember that Bryan and I are already married and have been for quite some time. Oh, and he sang. Quite loudly.

The boys were rewarded for their patience by getting to run through this awesome fountain. They were good and drenched by the time we left.

And Phoebe was rewarded by falling asleep minutes after we left the bridal shop. When a girl is so tired she can't even finish her vanilla wafer, well, then you know a nap is in order.

Apple Orchard

Blessings of Service

Not Enough Hours In the Day

This week = insanity.

That is all.

Book List

I'm currently reading:

The boys are enjoying:

What are you reading?

A New 'Do

Phoebe loves having her hair brushed and washed. But she hates having anything else done to it. Hair clips are immediately pulled out, headbands pulled off, and sweatshirt hoods yanked from their perch.

I've recently made several attempts at a ponytail. She is a wiggly girl and gets quite angry if you try to restrict her mobility. But today, I was successful. She was distracted by her coloring book, so I swooped in. She even left the ponytail in for an hour.

I think she would make a darling Cindy Lou Who, don't you?

Pumpkin Patch

Double Dipping

All day yesterday I thought about my writing assignment. Topic ideas would float through my brain as I went about my business. But I never made time to sit at the computer and write. Since the day was full of other activities, I decided I would write after bedtime.

As we were brushing teeth and putting pajamas on the kids, I mentioned to Bryan that I was missing an MBASA activity that night. He asked what it was. Oh, I told him, something about emotional health for women. He stopped what he was doing and looked at me. "I think you should go to that. It could be really helpful."

Bryan knows me well enough to understand that I have my own kind of crazy that comes out sometimes. I think everyone does. That's why I took his prompt to go to the activity as a helpful suggestion, not as a dig. I threw myself together and made the trek down to BYU. The evening was helpful; I'm glad I went.

But all that time I had set aside for writing? Gone. I got home close to eleven at night, both body and brain tired from the day. My internal battle was this: do I submit something I've already written so that I make the deadline, or do I write something new and miss the deadline completely?

I did a little bit of both.

I took this post about choosing Phoebe's name and cleaned it up. Editing past work is a funny thing. When I look at something I've written previously my brain catches all these mistakes that it missed before. Or I realize, as I did last night, that I use filler words. Many, many filler words. Most of what I did was getting rid of superfluous words and changing descriptions so I showed more than I told.

I emailed it off at one-thirty this morning, thus missing the deadline by an hour-and a-half. But, at least it was waiting for everyone when they woke-up this morning.

We're meeting next week to give feedback to each other. I'll wait to post my revised version until after I hear their thoughts. They may have insights I had missed. Or maybe I'll end up keeping it just as it is.

Writer's Block

I went to my first meeting of the MBASA writers group a few weeks ago. I got lost looking for the address and walked in a few minutes late. Introductions had already begun. Among other things, we were to say why we wanted to be in the group.

A few people were poets and songwriters. One loved journaling and family history. Another wanted to write a children's book. Two had written novels.

I was feeling slightly flustered from walking in late. When my turn came I said that I loved to write and that I'd been writing this blog almost every weekday for more than two-and-a-half years. I don't remember what else I said, but it was enough that when I got in my car after the meeting was over I was hit with an awful thought, "I've oversold myself. There was too much hype. They're going to expect something fantastic."

Cue stress.

Last week at the MBASA book club someone told me they were really looking forward to reading my writing. I'm sure she was trying to be sweet, but it did not ease my nerves.

My first assignment is due today (well tomorrow since I'm writing this on Tuesday night). I'm supposed to turn in something written in the style of a memoir. I was the one that suggested that for our first task. We're all used to writing in journals, I said, it should be easy.

And now I sit, computer on my lap, not an idea in my head, seriously considering submitting a past post from the blog. Except I'm pretty sure that would be cheating, so I won't really do it.

Should I write something light and funny? Something from deep in my soul? A huge, life-altering event? A mundane moment?

It has to be sent to the members of the group sometime on October 5. That means I have until midnight, right?

Letting Off Some Steam

I did it! I conquered my fears!

I used my pressure cooker!

Bryan and I have decided that during graduate school beans and rice will be an integral part of our diet. I cooked my first MBA pot of beans two weeks ago. They tasted great, but even after twelve hours of soaking and three hours of cooking, they were kind of hard. Bryan asked a friend of his from Brazil how to get the beans to the right level of mushiness. His answer? The pressure cooker.

So this week I read a bunch of bean recipes online and decided I just had to jump in and do it. My pressure cooker had been in the cupboard for so long that it was covered in dust. After washing it and rereading the directions twice, I started throwing in the ingredients. I made sure I stayed nearby as the beans cooked (which was made possible by the boys creating Halloween decorations quietly at the table) and listened to the gentle rocking of the pressure gauge. It was tricky getting the fire at just the right height so that the gauge rocked, but didn't threaten lift-off.

Bryan made a huge deal out of the fact that I made beans in the pressure cooker. It was sweet. I think it's both funny and a little sad that it's taken me ten years to finally cook Brazilian food. My Portuguese-speaking husband is quite pleased.

And the best part? I didn't blow-up my kitchen! I didn't even get beans on the ceiling.

Homebody

Each night after the kids go to sleep I have a list of things I need to accomplish. I thought I was ahead of the game tonight. The most time consuming thing, making bread, was practically done. All I had to do was punch down the dough, put it in bread pans, and bake it. Other than that I needed to do my post for the day and fold three loads of laundry.

I decided to fold first. I was afraid that if I sat down at the computer to write that I wouldn't get up again.

And so I began to fold.

About halfway through the pile in front of me I noticed I was moving slowly. Really slowly. And my jaw hurt. And my shoulders. And my head. And my back. Instead of taking an hour, my job for the night took two.

I finally ambled in and scrounged some acetaminophen off of Bryan (the big bottle was in our bathroom, which connects to our bedroom, and I didn't want to wake up Phoebe) and tried to put away the finally-folded clothes.

What I couldn't figure out was why I hurt so much. I had a good night sleep last night, so it wasn't from being tired. Other than a walk to Peter's school and a few times up and down our stairs I hadn't done anything particularly strenuous.

And then it hit me: we went to the library today.

Cooper loves to run away from me, especially at the library. Peter often does it too. That means that in order to leave with some shred of sanity intact (not to mention with books and all of my children) I have to be able to grab both boys at a moment's notice. Carrying Phoebe in the Baby Bjorn has been my trick to making this happen. But my sweet girl is getting bigger. I've known that our time with the Bjorn was limited, but I'm afraid she may have outgrown it. At least that's what the majority of my muscles are screaming at me right now.

And that means I'll never be able to go anywhere with all three children ever again.