*WARNING: Potty-training story ahead, proceed at your own risk.*
I read a friend's status message on Facebook the other day that said something about her daughter wanting to potty-train that day, so she did. I'm not sure that Peter will ever be truly potty-trained. I mean, I hope he will (I think it would be awfully embarrassing to be in college and have your mom call to remind you to go to the bathroom), it's just hard to see that far ahead.
He may not be flying completely solo yet, but he is improving. He rarely has accidents during the day. That's progress. It might be because I prompt, prod, and implore whenever I realize it's been a few hours since he's gone to the bathroom. Just a guess.
I've heard horror stories about little boy's bathrooms. These are mostly due to *ahem* aiming issues. Peter has no problem hitting his mark. I thought this was great at first. It meant that I could send him into the bathroom by himself and not worry about having to wash down all the walls when he was done. However, Peter realized his awesome aiming power and decided it would be fun to purposely miss the toilet.
Not awesome.
We still dole out candy after he uses the toilet, but only when he reminds us, which is happening less and less. We had to make a rule, however, that if he ever relieved himself anywhere outside the toilet he would automatically lose his candy.
Last week Peter was using the Master bathroom and I was in my room pretending to do something else while listening to his progress through the door. You know, to make sure he was doing what he said he was going to do. Imagine my particular delight after the following exchange:
Peter: No candy, Mom.
Me: What?
Peter: I don't get any candy for using the toilet this time.
Me: (With rapidly growing apprehension about what I would find when I opened the bathroom door) Why?
Peter: Because I urinated in the trashcan by the toilet.
Oh boy...
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Sing, Sing a Song
When I was ten I was asked to sing a solo in Sacrament Meeting. At that age I didn't have a sweet little-girl voice. I had a really loud lower-register. When I went to the pulpit to sing We'll Bring the World His Truth from the Children's Songbook I pushed the microphone all the way back, as I had done in practice the day before. I didn't want to deafen anyone. A member of the Bishopric quickly jumped up and moved the mic back in front of my mouth. I turned to look at him as I again moved it to it's farthest position. And then I sang. I think it was decent for a ten-year-old. I know it was loud. One little girl in my Primary class, who delighted in tormenting me, had one comment about the piece when she saw me later, "It certainly was loud, wasn't it?"
I decided as a youth that I would always say yes when I was asked to speak or sing in church. Sometimes this meant getting a phone call on Saturday night with a request to sing the next day. Thanks to an amazingly gifted pianist in the ward, we could usually pull something off. These days most of my vocal numbers are performed for the select audience of those living in my house.
Two weeks ago I got a call from a member of the Bishopric in our ward, telling me about a special Sacrament Meeting we would be having on October 11. He said it would be all about church music and would have several musical numbers. Then he asked if I would be the last musical number on the program, singing a hymn of my choice. I said that I had been sick, but I thought I would be better in two weeks and would love to sing.
And then I got sicker. And sicker...
And then I lost my voice.
Something funny about my voice: whenever I would lose it as a teenager, it would come back slightly different than it was before. I remember once getting my voice back after being sick and suddenly having lots more vibrato to keep in check. I was worried that 1) I wouldn't get my voice back in time to sing; and 2) if I did get it back, it would be something new that I wouldn't be sure how to handle.
The Bishopric member called back the following Friday to see if I'd picked a hymn and to tell me who my accompanist would be. After explaining why I sounded like a chain-smoker on the phone I told him that I had picked a song, I Believe in Christ, but that he might have to find someone else to sing it. He asked me to give it a few more days. If I still had no voice on Sunday, a week out, then he would find someone to replace me on the program. I agreed. Although I was sad at the prospect of not getting to sing, I didn't want to torture anyone with my croaking.
I was shocked during the Sunday afternoon session of General Conference when I realized that I was singing the congregational hymn and I didn't sound like someone driving over gravel. Maybe I would have a voice by the next Sunday.
All week I practiced the song. Using my limited piano skills, I plunked out the accompaniment at home with Peter on one side changing the settings on my keyboard and Cooper on the other pounding away at the keys in the bass clef. I'm not sure how productive those rehearsals were.
Yesterday I got to church early to practice one last time with my accompanist. I had warmed-up, but my cold had started trying to make a comeback the night before and I was feeling it again as I went through the number. My voice broke a few times and a cough overtook me at one point. I had been praying since I started practicing the song earlier in the week that I would have a voice and that the message of the song would be heard and felt by those listening. After that final practice I prayed harder. I turned my brain to the two choir numbers I would be singing and hoped that they would be enough to clear my voice.
The program was lovely. There were five musical numbers in all, including a men's choir that sang a beautiful arrangement of Ye Elder's of Israel. The Ward Music Chair spoke just before I sang. He talked about the power of music. Then he said that there was something he would never be brave enough to do: sing a solo. He said he was so excited for the soloist that would come next and asked that the congregation listen closely to the words the soloist would sing.
No pressure.
Actually, I was glad that he asked the congregation to focus on the words. It's my job as a singer to convey the message of the song, to do my best to make the words as clear as possible. If I sound lousy, then it's hard to focus on what I'm singing, just on how badly I'm doing it. On the flip side, if I'm preoccupied with how awesome I sound and on soaring notes and trills, the words get lost. I have to be good enough not to distract, but not so fancy with embellishments that I detract from what the Spirit is trying to teach. I prayed that I would have a voice and that I would be calm.
And then I sang.
I have a strong testimony that the Holy Ghost is a fabulous singer, because I have had help on many occasions. I am at my best when I remember that it's not about me, it's about how the music helps people feel the Spirit. That's how yesterday was. I hit the notes, my voice was clear, but more than that, people heard the sweet testimony of the Savior contained in the words of that song. I'm thankful for the chance I had to pull that particular talent out of it's box, dust it off, and use it for good.
I decided as a youth that I would always say yes when I was asked to speak or sing in church. Sometimes this meant getting a phone call on Saturday night with a request to sing the next day. Thanks to an amazingly gifted pianist in the ward, we could usually pull something off. These days most of my vocal numbers are performed for the select audience of those living in my house.
Two weeks ago I got a call from a member of the Bishopric in our ward, telling me about a special Sacrament Meeting we would be having on October 11. He said it would be all about church music and would have several musical numbers. Then he asked if I would be the last musical number on the program, singing a hymn of my choice. I said that I had been sick, but I thought I would be better in two weeks and would love to sing.
And then I got sicker. And sicker...
And then I lost my voice.
Something funny about my voice: whenever I would lose it as a teenager, it would come back slightly different than it was before. I remember once getting my voice back after being sick and suddenly having lots more vibrato to keep in check. I was worried that 1) I wouldn't get my voice back in time to sing; and 2) if I did get it back, it would be something new that I wouldn't be sure how to handle.
The Bishopric member called back the following Friday to see if I'd picked a hymn and to tell me who my accompanist would be. After explaining why I sounded like a chain-smoker on the phone I told him that I had picked a song, I Believe in Christ, but that he might have to find someone else to sing it. He asked me to give it a few more days. If I still had no voice on Sunday, a week out, then he would find someone to replace me on the program. I agreed. Although I was sad at the prospect of not getting to sing, I didn't want to torture anyone with my croaking.
I was shocked during the Sunday afternoon session of General Conference when I realized that I was singing the congregational hymn and I didn't sound like someone driving over gravel. Maybe I would have a voice by the next Sunday.
All week I practiced the song. Using my limited piano skills, I plunked out the accompaniment at home with Peter on one side changing the settings on my keyboard and Cooper on the other pounding away at the keys in the bass clef. I'm not sure how productive those rehearsals were.
Yesterday I got to church early to practice one last time with my accompanist. I had warmed-up, but my cold had started trying to make a comeback the night before and I was feeling it again as I went through the number. My voice broke a few times and a cough overtook me at one point. I had been praying since I started practicing the song earlier in the week that I would have a voice and that the message of the song would be heard and felt by those listening. After that final practice I prayed harder. I turned my brain to the two choir numbers I would be singing and hoped that they would be enough to clear my voice.
The program was lovely. There were five musical numbers in all, including a men's choir that sang a beautiful arrangement of Ye Elder's of Israel. The Ward Music Chair spoke just before I sang. He talked about the power of music. Then he said that there was something he would never be brave enough to do: sing a solo. He said he was so excited for the soloist that would come next and asked that the congregation listen closely to the words the soloist would sing.
No pressure.
Actually, I was glad that he asked the congregation to focus on the words. It's my job as a singer to convey the message of the song, to do my best to make the words as clear as possible. If I sound lousy, then it's hard to focus on what I'm singing, just on how badly I'm doing it. On the flip side, if I'm preoccupied with how awesome I sound and on soaring notes and trills, the words get lost. I have to be good enough not to distract, but not so fancy with embellishments that I detract from what the Spirit is trying to teach. I prayed that I would have a voice and that I would be calm.
And then I sang.
I have a strong testimony that the Holy Ghost is a fabulous singer, because I have had help on many occasions. I am at my best when I remember that it's not about me, it's about how the music helps people feel the Spirit. That's how yesterday was. I hit the notes, my voice was clear, but more than that, people heard the sweet testimony of the Savior contained in the words of that song. I'm thankful for the chance I had to pull that particular talent out of it's box, dust it off, and use it for good.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Upside-Down
Our library offers Discovery Backpacks for check-out. These backpacks contain a few books, a game, and sometimes a toy. They are grouped based on subject matter. We've gotten backpacks about topics such as bridges, vehicles, and the alphabet.
For the last two weeks (usually just one, but I renewed the backpack so we wouldn't have to spew sick germs on everyone at the library) Peter has been enjoying the dinosaur backpack. It had a whopping four books, three dinosaur toys, and four small dinosaur jigsaw puzzles.
Peter loves doing little kid puzzles. You know the kind that I'm talking about. The ones with big shapes that fit into specific holes, usually painted to match the piece that you've just pulled out. He's a pro at these. He had never done a jigsaw puzzle before.
Turns out, Peter loves puzzles of the jigsaw variety too. This is the first one that he put together. He did it all by himself. All four were this size, just twelve pieces. He has spent hours doing these puzzles over the last few weeks. Each puzzle piece has a shape stamped onto the back (square, triangle, etc) so you can tell which pieces go together. At one point he discovered he could do the puzzles upside by putting like-shapes together. That hadn't occurred to me. I depend on the picture to tell me which piece goes where. What kind of intelligence does that take? Spatial?
A jigsaw puzzle is definitely going on Peter's Christmas list.
For the last two weeks (usually just one, but I renewed the backpack so we wouldn't have to spew sick germs on everyone at the library) Peter has been enjoying the dinosaur backpack. It had a whopping four books, three dinosaur toys, and four small dinosaur jigsaw puzzles.
Peter loves doing little kid puzzles. You know the kind that I'm talking about. The ones with big shapes that fit into specific holes, usually painted to match the piece that you've just pulled out. He's a pro at these. He had never done a jigsaw puzzle before.
Turns out, Peter loves puzzles of the jigsaw variety too. This is the first one that he put together. He did it all by himself. All four were this size, just twelve pieces. He has spent hours doing these puzzles over the last few weeks. Each puzzle piece has a shape stamped onto the back (square, triangle, etc) so you can tell which pieces go together. At one point he discovered he could do the puzzles upside by putting like-shapes together. That hadn't occurred to me. I depend on the picture to tell me which piece goes where. What kind of intelligence does that take? Spatial?
A jigsaw puzzle is definitely going on Peter's Christmas list.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
The Socratic Method
I'm hosting book club tonight. It's not actually at my house, but I picked the book and I'm leading the discussion.
I'm kind of nervous.
I went online to find discussion questions and instead came up with a bunch of negative reviews of the book I chose. Great. I'm reviewing the book today to try to come up with a handful of questions to get the group talking, but I'm worried I won't be able to come up with enough.
And so, I'm turning to you, my brilliant and well-read readers, for questions. Has anyone read the The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch and Jeffery Zaslow? What questions would you ask about it? Or, does anyone know of a good online source for discussion questions about literature?
I'm kind of nervous.
I went online to find discussion questions and instead came up with a bunch of negative reviews of the book I chose. Great. I'm reviewing the book today to try to come up with a handful of questions to get the group talking, but I'm worried I won't be able to come up with enough.
And so, I'm turning to you, my brilliant and well-read readers, for questions. Has anyone read the The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch and Jeffery Zaslow? What questions would you ask about it? Or, does anyone know of a good online source for discussion questions about literature?
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Helping Hands
I tried to keep the house clean last week despite being ill. (I think a clean house helps me feel like I'm not a total invalid, although I probably should have rested instead of cleaning.) Over the course of the week a few loads of laundry were folded and put away. I usually fold laundry where ever the boys are playing. On Thursday the back of the couch housed our folded clothes because the boys were playing in the living room.
I had just folded two kitchen towels when Peter called from another room for help. Instead of putting the towels on the back of the couch to keep them folded and out of the reach of small hands, I just laid them on the seat.
On my way back in from helping Peter I met Cooper toddling out of the living room, folded towels in hand.
Me: Cooper, may I have those towels please?
Cooper: (Shakes his head no and holds the towels closer to his person.)
Me: Oh. Did you want to put them away yourself?
Cooper: (Nods his head yes and grins.)
Me: (Moving out of his way) Okay. Go ahead.
And then I followed him into the kitchen where he walked to the correct drawer, opened it, and stuffed in the now somewhat-wrinkled-but-nonetheless-put-away towels.
I love having a helper.
I had just folded two kitchen towels when Peter called from another room for help. Instead of putting the towels on the back of the couch to keep them folded and out of the reach of small hands, I just laid them on the seat.
On my way back in from helping Peter I met Cooper toddling out of the living room, folded towels in hand.
Me: Cooper, may I have those towels please?
Cooper: (Shakes his head no and holds the towels closer to his person.)
Me: Oh. Did you want to put them away yourself?
Cooper: (Nods his head yes and grins.)
Me: (Moving out of his way) Okay. Go ahead.
And then I followed him into the kitchen where he walked to the correct drawer, opened it, and stuffed in the now somewhat-wrinkled-but-nonetheless-put-away towels.
I love having a helper.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
That Girl
Peter: (To Bryan, while listening to a talk about families during General Conference) Dad, did you pick that girl over there to marry?
Bryan: You mean Mommy?
Peter: Yeah.
Bryan: Yes, I picked her.
Peter: Oh.
I'm glad he got something out of Conference...
Bryan: You mean Mommy?
Peter: Yeah.
Bryan: Yes, I picked her.
Peter: Oh.
I'm glad he got something out of Conference...
Monday, October 5, 2009
Spiritually Fed
I love General Conference.
Three major themes stood out to me this time:
Elder Oaks' talk about love and obedience to the law was timely for me. Peter has been having trouble with obedience lately. A LOT of trouble. There have been times in the past few weeks when I've felt so beaten by the constant disobedience that I've thought, "It would be so much easier to just let him do what he wants and not insist that he obey." I would usually insist anyway, but the mental debate would rage on. Elder Oaks' talk was a solid reminder that truly loving your child means teaching them the eternal importance of obeying God's laws, which begins with obeying mom and dad's simple house rules.
Bold. That's the word that best describes Elder Holland's talk. He declared a bold testimony of the truthfulness and divinity of the Book of Mormon. I was also touched by his thanks to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir at the beginning of his talk. I have a strong testimony of the power of sacred music and I love that he pointed out the importance of the teachings in O Divine Redeemer.
Yesterday morning during breakfast the boys and I read about Lehi's vision of the tree of life and the iron rod. Imagine Peter's delight to hear that story recounted in two talks later in the day. When I heard Sister Dibb start to share Lehi's vision I asked Peter what she was talking about. He knew. It was the story of Lehi from our scriptures. I wonder if I would have paid as much attention to that section if I hadn't read it to the boys.
I didn't put up any decorations. I was too busy listening.
Three major themes stood out to me this time:
- Love (Love of God, love from God, love of your neighbor, love of your family)
- Listening to and following the promptings of the Holy Ghost
- Missionary work and service (These two go together in my head. Although service could also fit nicely with love.)
Elder Oaks' talk about love and obedience to the law was timely for me. Peter has been having trouble with obedience lately. A LOT of trouble. There have been times in the past few weeks when I've felt so beaten by the constant disobedience that I've thought, "It would be so much easier to just let him do what he wants and not insist that he obey." I would usually insist anyway, but the mental debate would rage on. Elder Oaks' talk was a solid reminder that truly loving your child means teaching them the eternal importance of obeying God's laws, which begins with obeying mom and dad's simple house rules.
Bold. That's the word that best describes Elder Holland's talk. He declared a bold testimony of the truthfulness and divinity of the Book of Mormon. I was also touched by his thanks to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir at the beginning of his talk. I have a strong testimony of the power of sacred music and I love that he pointed out the importance of the teachings in O Divine Redeemer.
Yesterday morning during breakfast the boys and I read about Lehi's vision of the tree of life and the iron rod. Imagine Peter's delight to hear that story recounted in two talks later in the day. When I heard Sister Dibb start to share Lehi's vision I asked Peter what she was talking about. He knew. It was the story of Lehi from our scriptures. I wonder if I would have paid as much attention to that section if I hadn't read it to the boys.
I didn't put up any decorations. I was too busy listening.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Pumpkins and Spiders and Candy, Oh My!
Pumpkins have been appearing on our neighbors doorsteps. There are cobwebs and giant foam spiders on one balcony in our complex. All of the grocery stores are stocked with candy and costumes. Do you know what all of these things mean? That's right, it's time for General Conference!
When I was in college I would get really excited about decorating for holidays. I think it was because I was always a little sad about the end of Summer. Putting up awesome (and by awesome, I mean whatever I could find for cheap at ShopKo and DI) decorations helped remind me about the redeeming aspects of the season. I had to make a rule for myself not to put up Halloween decorations on September 21 (or whenever the Autumnal Equinox fell). My rule: I couldn't put up any decorations until General Conference weekend. After many years I think I've made peace with Fall. But I've kept the rule.
Now that the wonderful weekend is upon us, I'm not sure I want to put up any Halloween decorations. I think I'd rather focus on the talks that I'll be hearing during General Conference. And I've discovered something recently: I like having a clean, uncluttered house. Decorations might feel more like litter than anything else.
I'll probably change my mind once Peter asks to hang our pumpkin lights.
When I was in college I would get really excited about decorating for holidays. I think it was because I was always a little sad about the end of Summer. Putting up awesome (and by awesome, I mean whatever I could find for cheap at ShopKo and DI) decorations helped remind me about the redeeming aspects of the season. I had to make a rule for myself not to put up Halloween decorations on September 21 (or whenever the Autumnal Equinox fell). My rule: I couldn't put up any decorations until General Conference weekend. After many years I think I've made peace with Fall. But I've kept the rule.
Now that the wonderful weekend is upon us, I'm not sure I want to put up any Halloween decorations. I think I'd rather focus on the talks that I'll be hearing during General Conference. And I've discovered something recently: I like having a clean, uncluttered house. Decorations might feel more like litter than anything else.
I'll probably change my mind once Peter asks to hang our pumpkin lights.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Happy October
Fifth day of illness + foggy sick brain + goal to post something every weekday this year = another video from YouTube
At least it's seasonally appropriate...
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