Quotes of the week

Ava came home early from school today. Apparently we didn't escape that stomach bug so easily. She is lying on the couch being pitiful and feeling crummy.

In her honor I share these two beauties from this past week.


"Mom, when we die and we get to heaven is there, like, someone there to help us, you know, get to the right cloud and stuff?"

And as she enviously watched her brothers running around footloose and fancy free while she got ready for school one morning:

"I wish I was still a kid." Which could have been funny enough to me right there, but she continued,

"They get to sleep in, they don't have to go to school everyday, and they don't even have to wipe their own bottoms."

Leah

Today I should be picking up my dear sister from the airport.

When I found myself heaving over the potty on Monday night, I worried that my unexpected sickness might put a damper on our time together. You see, we really got our money's worth from that fare sale. I went there, my parents went there, and now Leah was going to come here for her own few days of Mommy Vacation.

But just as quickly as that stomach bug came, it was gone. Phew!

Turns out though, that mine wasn't the only illness looming over us. Leah called the next day to say her travel plans were up in the air because Chris, her husband, was sick. For real sick too, not some fake cough he drummed up to keep her home. Antibiotics and rehydration were on their agenda but she let me know this morning that while he was improving, I wouldn't need to pick her up at the airport.

That stinks. I mean, I am sad that Chris is sick, I'm glad he's getting better, but I am sad that my sister isn't coming.

A few posts down I mentioned that I love all my siblings the same amount, just differently. Here is how I love Leah.

Leah is my closest sibling in age, 4 years my elder. Growing up, Aaron and Leah joined forces for tag-team abuse aimed at yours truly. There were many days we fought with a fever and passion. I might have left her a few notes of hatred on the mirror of our shared bathroom, penned with lipstick. Actually I know I wrote them, but now I can't remember if I ever had the guts to leave them up.

There were a few years where we were the only two kids at home. Those were the years where the fighting thinned out and the camaraderie blossomed. We shared rides and inside jokes. She left on her mission to the Dominican Republic my last year of high school. We wrote letters that year and a half. Those letters saw me through graduation and my first semester of college. Getting her letters always made me feel special, and in my opinion brought us closer than we'd ever been, even though we were farther apart than ever. She was up to date on my college dating track record, which was awful to say the least. I wrote about every ridiculous guy I came up with. And I can almost see her rolling her eyes when each one was more of a loser than the last. Until I could finally tell her about Dan. She always reminded me about what was important, and that first fall of college, I found her as a perfect confidant while I figured things out.

She came back and we lived in Provo just a few minutes apart. We both worked on campus and shared lunch most days in the office where I was a secretary. We took classes together, the most memorable probably being Anatomy, where the two of us clutched hands and willed each other through our cadaver lessons. Quite the team, we were. She'd come hang out with me when Dan worked his late hours.

And now as mothers of children about the same age, we provide the perfect listening ear or advice column for each other. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't call Leah. It's no surprise that I get teary just writing this about her.

Through our life together she always was the epitome of the things I lacked. She was studious, she was calm, she was smart, she was logical, she was a scriptorian. Once on a vacation in Mexico, as we sat next to each other getting our hair done in a thousand tiny braids, the Mexican ladies talked about us in Spanish as if we couldn't understand. Unfortunately, we caught most of what they said; our high school Spanish serving us well. They said I was the pretty sister and she was the smart sister. Which is not hardly accurate because she's not ugly and I'm not stupid.

But I wanted to be the smart one. I wanted to be seen as a bright person with insightful thoughts as people saw her. When my heart would make me crazy I wanted to have a little more of her head. I wanted to be like her in so many ways. I wanted to be like me and like her.

That's what it is. I am missing some of the things she's got. She missing some of the things I've got (though she's certainly not hurting in the pretty department, my Mexican friends). Put us together and what does that spell?! Pretty darn great, if I say so myself.

Maybe that's why I'm so bummed she's not coming even though I have been able to see her recently. We go together, we complement and balance each other, and well frankly, our time together is just pretty darn great. Together feels better than apart.

“There’s a special kind of freedom sisters enjoy. Freedom to share innermost thoughts, to ask a favor, to show their true feelings. The freedom to simply be themselves.” -Anonymous

Spiritual Bunnies

Firstly, Thank you! Thank you for all your advice! I really appreciated hearing the thoughts of some moms currently in the biz.

I never actually made it to buy a doorknob thing, though that was my plan. My jump rope worked great! I learned that trick from my brother, who growing up, used to wait until my mom would leave on an errand, put me in my room, and then tie my doorknob to the one across the hall, and leave me there until my mom returned home hours later. When he heard the car he would hurry and untie it. I'd run to my mom traumatized, where she would brush me off in disbelief. Some people think it's so easy being the baby in the family. Sure, I was spoiled but I put up with my fair share of torture to deserve it.

So, drawing on my otherwise useless store of experience, I remembered that old trick. And once Max figured out that escaping the crib didn't mean he'd be able to get out of his room, he stopped climbing out at all.

I will breathe a sigh of relief again and hope this battle is not revisited anytime soon or ever. But if I've learned anything being a mom, it's not to hold my breath.



So here's a picture of my new hair cut:


I'm still getting used to the wind on my neck, but I am starting to like it. At first I thought maybe I'd made a big mistake, but it is growing on me.


And here's a picture of our baby bunnies. There are three and they are the tiniest, softest, most precious little bunnies. They are getting pretty big though and one almost jumped right out of the nest when we peeked in the other day. I am guessing it won't be long until they are ready to go out on their own.



You can't exactly see them very good because my camera has not been easy to work with and I'm not sure how or where to get it fixed. I'm trying to convince Dan that this is the perfect opportunity to upgrade. Although in reality I'd much rather spend any extra money on lenses instead of a new body.


Tonight was the General Relief Society broadcast. President Uchtdorf speaks with such power while remaining very light and uplifting. When he first stood up at the pulpit tonight I knew it was going to be good.

After moving it always takes me a while to feel like I fit. This move has been no different. But almost a year later, on some days, I feel just as out of place as I did the day I moved in. I have felt lonely and insignificant. But tonight, an apostle of God reminded me that I am not forgotten. And the spirit with which he spoke hit my heart hard. I am loved by the Supreme Creator of the Universe and so are you. I might feel inconsequential and I might even be inconsequential to most people, but I am not forgotten.

Heavenly Father sees me and delights in my small successes. I can only strive to be someone who helps others feel that same love. I couldn't help but think of times I have been able to serve in the church and as I was set apart to do a certain job for a certain group of people, that the love for those people, ones I didn't even know yet, immediately filled my heart. I remember thinking and even saying to them, I know that God loves you, because He has made me love you. And if He loves them, He must love me too.

After the meeting, as we mingled around refreshments, I felt my phone vibrate in my purse. When I got to the car and pulled it out expecting to see a message from Dan, I found that I had a voicemail from my friend. My best friend from high school, Stephanie, who came out to Utah to college with me and then joined the church. We had been texting throughout the day about random things like cannoli's and haircuts. But when I listened to her message she said what she wanted to tell me didn't have anything to do with those things. She said she loved me. She said thank you for bringing her to the church. And she said thank you for being her friend.

I am not forgotten.

Not Going Down Without a Fight

Well, Max has taken pretty well to the loss of his beloved bottle, but now I know that his indifference was merely a place saver, while he was really very busy mentally planning his rebellion.

A month or so ago he fell/climbed out of his crib. It scared him, I put him back in, and he went right to sleep. And I breathed a huge sigh of relief that he didn't fight it and we wouldn't be having that battle.

Ava nor Luke ever made any attempt to get out of their crib. Up until last year, Ava didn't even get out of her own bed in the morning by herself. She'd call when she woke up just to ask and be sure, "Is it time to wake up yet?" She has never once gotten out of her bed after we've put her there. And I know that is not typical, but it has been very nice.

Luke was more normal, but still goes to bed very well. He doesn't come out of his room at night, though he does come out when he wakes in the morning, crazy kid.

When we first made the switch, I always warned both of them, they could sleep in the big bed, but if they got up and out and played, etc, then they'd have to go back in the crib. And we had very smooth transitions.

So yesterday, I put Max down for his nap. Not 15 seconds after I shut his door, I heard it open and I look to find him standing in the doorway with a sheepish grin. In shock, I walked over, picked him up, laid him back down, and he went to sleep.

Again, I wiped my brow and said a silent thank you that he was not going to keep doing it.

A few hours later, as I sat at the dining room table, helping my mom with some paper work, I look up and see him standing on the stairs. Same sheepish grin.

I lost count at 30 times I put him back in his crib last night. Approximately 5 seconds after I shut the door, it would creak open. Two eyes and a grin.

Pick him up, pay no attention, lay him down, walk out, shut the door. Count to 5. Creeeeaak. Two eyes and a grin.

Rinse and repeat.

Finally he gave in to another snuggle and song by his daddy and went to sleep.

So I've boiled it down to two options:

Buy a crib tent.

Or put him in a big boy bed and put a child proof handle on the inside of his door.

I can't handle the idea of him wandering around the house at night by himself and I can't handle the idea of standing guard duty at his door for 40 minutes every night, but my mom insists that neither of these options are humane.

But in my opinion, either one would be more humane than the jump rope I have tied between his bedroom doorknob and the bathroom right now.

Kind advice welcomed :)

Sobering Up

I should really pay more attention when I'm filling out forms for Ava's school. I got an email this week letting me know when the Room Rep training would be.

Room Rep training? Is that like a Room Mom? Why do I need to know when the Room Rep training is?

Oh that's right, because I SIGNED UP to be the Room Rep.

Apparently I got a little overzealous with my check marks on the Volunteer Survey.

I want to be involved in the school. I want to be a familiar face, I want to know what goes on there, etc. But didn't want to be Room Mom. At least I didn't think so, but I learned at my training this morning that there are actually three of us for the classroom and we can work together.

So now I can see my life coming in to focus: I change diapers. I drive a mini-van. I am a Room Mom, and I need to sign the kids up for soccer, stat!

Really, I kid. I saw a tiny portion of some weird show on TLC last night, My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding or some other such nonsense. But the narrator said something about how the girls in this culture only want to get married and take care of their kids and their husbands and along the way implied this was a backward notion. And I couldn't help but think that, in my opinion, that is where things have gone so wrong. When people started to believe that taking care of home and family was a bad thing, that surely a career outside of the home would be so much more important and fulfilling than staying home to take care of your family, that's where we've gotten off course as a society. Yes, women are good workers. Yes, women can do great and important things in society and industry. But, YES, taking care of your home and family is a valid, worthwhile endeavor. Worthy of a woman's time and effort, and certainly a job of importance and fulfillment. It's a shame that it's looked at as a "less than". I didn't settle to be a mom, I chose to be a mom and I chose to stay home. I understand that some people's circumstances don't allow the mother to stay at home, but I just wish that the view of those of us who do wasn't so skewed.

Some days I want to search the want ads, but it's not because I want a job, more because I want a break!



I bit the bullet and joined Pinterest this week. I had been trying to stay away knowing full well that I don't need any more reasons to peruse the internet. But I realized that not joining did not mean that I would suddenly stop perusing the internet and therefore I could save myself some trouble by at least being organized with it!

The truth is I really don't read many blogs, just the ones on my sidebar and a handful of others. But my little bookmark tab seems to grow by the day. So there you go, Pinterest.

I am converted. If you aren't familiar with it, you can click on that little button right over there, but beware, it is fun and stimulating and addicting. Enter at your own risk!

Speaking of addictions, when I got Max up to take Ava to school this morning, I could not find his bottle, which is his customary drive-to-school beverage of choice. It is also his all-day, any-time-I'm-feeling-sad/mad/frustrated/happy beverage of choice. Dan and I have been saying for a few months now that it's probably time to let it go.

That bottle has probably been our crutch as much as his. And as I have had more kids, things like bottles and paci's and thumb sucking and pretty much everything have become so much less of an issue for me. I really don't care. It will all come out in the wash in the end anyway. When my kid goes to college I am positive he'll be potty trained and binky free.

But, Max and his bottle were becoming a little much, even for me. Even though we'd only give him a couple of ounces at a time, it was like we were running a full day bottle filling operation. And he has been known to turn down food for the bottle. I know what you're thinking; that kid does not need to eat more food! But better, food than gallons of whole milk.



So today when I couldn't find it, I decided-- Today is the day!

He has now been bottle free for 18 hours. Sure, he was asleep for 11 of them, but those other 7, he's been a trooper! He thinks about throwing a fit when I remind him that his bottle is "lost" but then gives up on it mid scream.

I'm thinking this might be easier than I thought.

Still a Fan

When I open the back door I can almost hear the chorus of bugs celebrating from all over the yard, cheering for the arrival of their next meal:

"Wahoo! Here he comes! Look at those chubby thighs! Look at that soft, juicy skin! The plumpness, the sweetness! Dinner is served!"

Max is a mosquito's dream.


Even with bug spray, those nasty bloodsuckers can't keep their noses off of him. He always has twice as many bites as the other two. But if Max is dinner, Ava and Luke must be the appetizer and dessert. They have sweet blood, too.

Luke, however, is the only one capable of having a bug bite (ant, mosquito, spider?) go from bite, to allergic reaction, to full blown infection in less than 24 hours. Now that takes talent.

We're not sure who did the biting, possibly an ant, especially given his previous history. But as far as we can tell, we don't have any fire ant colonies in our backyard. In any case, he is now taking his antibiotics and sporting an infection tracking tattoo.



But no little infection can tame his fan-fueled happiness:

Some Things To Get Excited About

I started composing this list for its own sake, but as the morning has gone on, I am using it to cheer myself up from two dumpy things:

1. I went for my first run in 3 weeks today and only made it a mile before my knee was crying. And now it is so sore. Off to the doctor, I suppose.

2. My beloved camera is on the fritz. I have no idea what the problem could be or how or where to get it fixed. All I know is that sometimes (with increasing frequency) I push the button and tell it to take a picture and it completely ignores me. And I am suspecting that the light meter is a little off too.

So now onto the good stuff:


1. There is a wild bunny nest in our front yard! Ava came to me as I buckled Max into the car this morning, convinced that she heard baby birds chirping when she stood at a certain spot in the yard. Upon inspection we realized that she was standing on a baby filled rabbit hole. Hence the squeaking. Well, we didn't actually see the babies because there was something a little scary about sticking my hand down a hole. But I can imagine that as they grow this next little while we will be able to catch a glimpse and maybe get some pictures. Oh! My camera! Don't remind me! Moving on...

2. The unidentifiable death-like stench in my van that had been driving me crazy and making us all feel queasy for weeks has finally been located, identified, and eradicated! It just took one crazy hard stop to send the baggie of old cheese and apple slices rocketing from it's still mysterious hiding spot!

3. Ava has joined the ranks of the independent shoe putter-on-ers of America! I finally bought her some longer laces and that did the trick! She can tie her own shoes! In double knots even!

Happy Thriday!