Stop & Read the Roses

In Case I Forget, Again.

2012-01-26T00:20:00.000-06:00

I believe it is a common thing after the new year to have trouble remembering to write the date correctly, spending the last twelve months writing one number and then suddenly a ball drops and we have to start writing a new number.

How long is it acceptable to keep making this mistake into the New Year?

And just out of curiosity, how bad does it look if you write the year from two years ago?

About a week ago I was filling out a bunch of forms that I had to sign and date, and I kept writing 2010. Embarrassing.

I post this as a reminder to myself. The New Year is here. It is on its way to not being the "new year" anymore, but just the standard year that we all live in (until the next new year rolls around). You celebrated this "new year". Remember? You and Devin and the girls made party hats? And you marched around the house yelling "Happy New Year!" while banging on pots and skillets with wooden spoons? REMEMBER?

Ok, so stay with me, here's the important part. It is now the year 2012. Not 2011. And most CERTAINLY not 2010. So don't write that. Ever again.

New Year's Resolution for 2012: Don't Take Any More Sideways Videos

Let's Guess

2012-01-25T16:23:00.003-06:00

When do YOU think Heather will come?

For your consideration, Hallie was born on her "due date" and Hanna was born exactly a week early.

Also, if you are going to guess late you should be grateful this poll is anonymous... I'm just saying.

Good News, Bad News

2012-01-22T22:09:00.001-06:00

The good news is we got this done

before this happened:

Yes, that is blood on her face. She's wearing a coat because we were on our way out the door to get stitches. Thankfully, she was a pretty good sport about the whole thing:

The really bad news is that we missed their doctors appointment that we had scheduled for their birthdays. All the bruises on her face cleared up and she looked great and ready to go. I rescheduled the appointment, and then this happens. The doctor who stitched her up told me to expect bruising all down her nose, and a black eye. Awesome. I've been practicing my "story" since it happened.

Also, her birthday party was that morning. Happy Birthday, Kiddo.

A Letter

2012-01-20T09:46:00.001-06:00

Dear Wonderful People I Call My Friends -

Thank you for your comments on this sad post. Guess what? I actually slept pretty well that night, mostly ache-free and miraculously also heartburn-free, AND I think I only got up to use the bathroom four times (normal is 5-7). I don't know what little bit of magic that was and who worked it but I was mighty grateful for it.

Each of your comments made me either sit up a little taller, or make me tear up a little bit, and now on those long sleepless nights when snuggling up to my cash register* seems like the only thing left to do I can think of you guys instead. AND I can be grateful that my name isn't Horace**. There is always that, too.

And you know, today as I went about my mundane tasks and errands I told myself that to be fair I could probably think up some things about being pregnant that aren't completely awful, and I will have you know that I did come up with a few!!

Here goes:
1. Strangers are (generally speaking) quite nice to pregnant women: Holding doors, crawling under your car when the two year old drops something under it so you don't have to, and maybe Lincoln is the last oasis of good old fashioned family values (although I certainly hope not) but everyone is so supportive. "What a cute little family!" "You have such great helpers!" "Those little girls look so sweet!" and when they find out we're expecting another girl the people just go crazy. That's always fun.
2. Friends are extra helpful too. "Oh, don't bend over to pick that up!" "Let me carry that!" etc. etc. and shameless person that I am I let them. Pamper me, I don't mind.
3. My maternity clothes are cuter than my regular clothes. So even though I don't necessarily "feel" cuter because of this huge obtrusion sticking out of my front, my clothes themselves are, and that's nice. And perhaps an indication that I need to update my regular wardrobe.
4. Hearing the baby's heartbeat at appointments. The girls love it, I love it, we all love when we get to hear that tiny thump thump. It never gets old.
5. The fact that I am seeing a midwife this time. That is probably a whole different post if anyone wants to hear about it, but it is perfect for me.
6. Getting out all of the little clothes and toys and setting up the little room. Remembering when Hallie wore that, and Hanna played with this, and anticipating what this new little person will be like.
7. I even do sometimes daydream about those quiet moments at night, when it feels like the only two people awake in the world are you and this tiny new person, nestled in a cocoon of warmth and half awake drowsiness.

*weird Hello Dolly reference. Don't worry about it too much. My sister will get it.
**I don't know why I'm stuck on Hello Dolly right now.

Last Month

2012-01-18T23:04:00.002-06:00

Tomorrow is exactly a month before my due date. My sister's baby was born exactly a month early, and part of me is wondering: what are the odds that it happens to me? If I could only be so lucky...

I'm sitting in our basement exhausted, bored, and wishing I hadn't eaten that last tootsie roll. Thanks to that one morsel of pseudo-chocolate I can add heartburn to the list of things that will keep me tossing and turning all night tonight. Earlier today Devin said, "This baby better come soon, so that you can start sleeping again."

It is sad to think that I may actually sleep better with a newborn than I have been the past week or so. I lay in bed at night looking out our dark window and can't decide which would make me feel better: to actually fall asleep, or give in and cry at the frustration of not being able to sleep.

I know, I know, you're all so tired of hearing me complain about being pregnant. I'm tired of it too. The other night as I lay there rolling over and over searching for a position that was not painful I kept thinking about how there are women out there who claim to enjoy being pregnant. I suppose it is you women that I would really like to hear from now. I need someone to tell me what they like about being pregnant. I keep telling myself just to think about how great it will feel when this baby is out of my body and in my arms, but when she's tap dancing on my ribs at two in the morning, and the food I ate four hours ago is sitting in my throat it isn't enough. I need something positive about this experience as it is right now, and even if I have to feel it vicariously, I'm willing to do that.

So tell me what YOU like about being pregnant, and then when the urge to cry comes over me I will tell myself to think about "so and so" and how much she likes "such and such" about being pregnant. Can you do that for me?

You know what is really nuts, and perhaps makes me certifiable? I'm already thinking about how nice a family of four looks, and plotting future "H" names if it is a girl (that one we would do on purpose!!), and daydreaming about how handsome David Jonathon will be if it is a boy. Don't tell Devin. He really might have me committed.

It Ain't Easy

2012-01-16T22:54:00.002-06:00

Good art isn't easy to create. It takes extreme focus. It takes careful concentration. It requires devotion and emotion. Not to mention you should probably have enough of your daddy's t-shirts for your buddies to wear too.

Thanks for letting them come over to play with you Lydia!

Learning the Lingo

2012-01-11T00:54:00.002-06:00

Hallie and Hanna have recently become obsessed with lions. Hanna at random intervals will begin saying over and over, "Lions eats mans." translation: Lions eat men. I don't have ANY idea where this phrase comes from, but once she starts saying it she will repeat it over and over and over again. Also, the following statements have been overheard:
Hallie: We don't run from cars. We just only run from lions.
Hanna: Lions sharp teeth, eats mans. Sharp teeth. (translation: Lions have sharp teeth so they can eat men.)
Hallie: But there are no more lions on earth. They all just disappeared. Why did the lions disappear Mommy?

And no matter how much I insist there are still lions on earth, they will not believe me. I guess a trip to the zoo is in order. I would also like to add that I am doing my best to explain to Hanna that lions prefer to eat zebra, or antelope, but she is still fairly certain that "mans" is their meal of choice.

Another obsession of late is Heather.
Hanna will put her hand on my tummy and say, "Heather screaming Mommy. She screaming. Sister sad." and then she will give my tummy kisses. Sometimes she says, "Heather laughing Mommy." and again, more kisses.
Hallie asks me every day when Heather is coming, and why isn't she here yet. Hanna tries to say hospital, and it comes out "hopspistol" and they are both looking forward to their tour of the hopspistol to see where baby Heather is going to finally come out of Mommy, an event which to Hallie means, "then you won't sleep all the time anymore, right Mommy?" ha ha ha, if she only knew.

And last but not least, Hallie has given us all nicknames.
Hanna we call "The Baby with the Swoosh in her Hair". and while we do often use the full name, it is occasionally shortened to "the Swoosh" or "Swoosh baby". Again, don't ask where this name came from, I have no clue.
Hallie has dubbed herself "The Pink in the Pink in the Panther". Yes, oh yes.
She has decided that I am to be called "The Sweet Hot Pumpkin Pie". At least I am delicious.
Devin is "Gum." I'm not kidding. I think this one is funniest of all.

Yeah, we're pretty silly around here. She put that on her nose all by herself. Pretty good, eh?

My name is Mommy. And Amy.

2012-01-09T11:53:00.000-06:00

The children's librarian knows Hallie and Hanna. We go in to the library quite often, and she always takes a moment to talk with them, play with them, help them pick out stories. She is pretty great. One day she was talking to me about something and she referred to me in her statement as "Hallie's mommy."

It didn't bother me, I don't think I even noticed, after all, I am Hallie's mommy. But she instantly looked sort of shocked and said, "Oh! I mean, of course, you have a name too! You aren't just Hallie's mommy!" And I laughed, and said, "It's fine, I mean, I am Hallie's mom. Don't worry about it." and we continued talking, and it wasn't until I had left the library that I realized that that would have been a perfect opportunity to tell her my name, and gain my own individual identity with this woman, and I passed it up.

In so many ways I feel like I am just Hallie's and Hanna's mommy. Even the things that I personally enjoy doing and would do with or without children, I do for them now. And that's fine, and it makes me happy, but sometimes I wonder if or when they will ever see me as AMY. Not only that, what if by the time they are perhaps interested in learning those little tidbits of information that have made my life my own, I don't remember them anymore either, having spent so much time as Mommy? To that end, I make the following list. For them, and for me.

- My favorite class in high school was etymology, the study of words. I still have the Greek alphabet memorized (and when Hallie was little I used to whisper it to her over and over when I ran out of lullabies and she was still screaming)
- My other favorite classes have always been English class. I memorized Hamlet's famous 52-line soliloquy for extra credit I didn't need, all 52 lines, and I still have that memorized too. (When the Greek alphabet got tiring I would recite to Hallie poetic words of a man contemplating suicide. Probably a good thing infants don't know words like "fardel" and "bodkins")
- I was quite a dorky nerd in high school, but I also played softball and soccer and was on the track team, and generally had a great time - even though I was terrible at all those sports.
- Sharpie markers, rubber cement, and scissors make me very happy deep inside where I am still a child myself.
- I won third prize in my fifth grade science fair for my project "Does Peppermint Make You Think Faster". Your daddy makes fun of me for this project.
- While I had fun at prom, both the year I went alone and the year I went with a date, it was not the most magical night of my life. At this point it wouldn't even make my top ten.
- Likewise with my first kiss. Although to be honest that one might still be hovering around the top fifteen.
- My baby sister, your Aunt Mimi, is one of my best friends. So remember to be nice to your sisters even when they take your brand new shirt and get it stained before you have a chance to wear it. Someday you won't care about that shirt, or even remember what it looked like.
- My favorite place when I was little was a cottage in the woods in Vermont, or my Homer grandparents house in Fountain City.
- I love cats and dogs and it makes me sad that we can't have them and it's all (mostly) my fault.
- I love your daddy. I love you. Most of all, I love being your mommy, and I love being Amy.

I May Be Going Down

2012-01-08T17:12:00.000-06:00

Many, many dark moons ago when Hallie was younger and much smaller than she is now she was running, rather unsteadily, down a sidewalk to catch up to her daddy. Crash, boom, bang. She landed flat on her face and scraped it up pretty good. After much screaming and many tears and a couple of ice cream cones (Mommy needed a treat to recover) she seemed to be fine, and the whole incident may have been completely forgotten by everyone except for the awful gash just by her left eye. It was truly gross and horrific looking.

And not two weeks later she had a routine checkup with the friendly pediatric doctor. He checked her joints, her eyes, ears, mouth, asked me all the important developmental questions and then in an unassuming manner asked me how she had gotten that injury on her eye. I told him the story as quickly as I could, "Oh, she was running downhill and fell." Because, you know, that was the truth.

Sometime later that nice doctor moved and the pediatric practice called and asked if we would switch to a different doctor. I had no reason to say no, so they switched us. Sometime after that we went in for another routine appointment, and we all got to meet the new doctor for the first time. He looked Hallie over, checking all the usual places, poking and prodding like any good doctor. Then, looking me solemnly in the eye, he said, "Could you tell me how she got that scrape on her eye last year?" I'm not sure what I started doing first: twitching, sweating, rolling my hands, or whimpering. Ok, I didn't do any of those things, but I really don't know which thought flashed through my mind first: How does he know about that? Why is he asking me? What is going on here? What does he think happened?

I mean, there was obviously a note about it in her records. And if there was a note, wouldn't the note tell the story? And if the note told the story, why did he need me to tell it to him again? The scar was no longer visible. I did the only thing I could do, staring at him right back, I told the story again. "She was running downhill, to catch her daddy. She fell down and scraped up her face."

And as I left the office all I could think was "that was weird." Since then, for many reasons, I have decided to switch doctors at that office again, and this new doctor comes highly recommended by a couple of my friends who take their children to the same practice. Our appointment with this new doctor is next week.

Last week Hanna fell off of a chair face first and has two awful looking bruises, one on her cheek, and one on her forehead. I prayed and prayed that they would go away before this appointment, and encouraged Devin to pray for a miracle as well. They began to fade almost the next day and I was so grateful.

Today at church Hanna tried to carry a large stool (it's a silly story) and she tripped and fell, and as she went down she hit her face on one of the legs of the stool. She has an awful gash right by her now swollen, puffy left eye. Oh, and those bruises from last week? They have ceased fading and now, added to the new injury, just combine to make a really battered looking (yet still adorable) face.

I'm sort of terrified to meet this new doctor. What note is she going to write in my (ahem) Hanna's record that I will have to explain again in a year? I fully support doctors being careful and keeping an eye out for their patients and asking about their injuries, but is it really necessary to follow up on what is clearly your everyday childhood accident A YEAR LATER? Is that still on my (ahem) Hallie's record? Should I flee the country? No, that would just make me look guilty, television has taught me that much.

I'm thinking my best course of action is to come prepared with a file of character references. So if you could take a minute to jot down some notes about how sweet, even tempered, calm, rational, and unlikely to harm my children I am, I may get out of this unscathed. I'm sort of begging here.

But mostly I'm kidding. I hope, right? (nervous chuckle...)

It Worked Out

2012-01-04T21:00:00.000-06:00

You may remember a while ago I wrote a post ranting about my sewing machine and how it chewed up and spat out the flannel that I was using to make a quilt. Well, it got to the point where I had to borrow a friend's machine (thanks Natalie!) to finish the blanket, but everything worked out in the end - especially because it came the breakdown came right in time - cue music for awesome Christmas present. (Although it was not from Devin technically, thanks Grandma Boling!!)

My friend just sent me a picture (thanks Hannah!) of her lovely cutie pie, and it looks to me like she likes it! (You're welcome, Madelyn)

I am considering giving flannel a second chance on my new machine, but the irrational part of me is afraid that flannel is just plain evil and will destroy this machine as well...

When I Think About

2011-12-27T16:05:00.000-06:00

When I think about my friend Al, I think about Jon Bon Jovi and singing along to the instrumental songs on the Lion King soundtrack. I think about lobster and Old Soakers and the sound of the ocean. I think about delphinium and watering chickens. When I think about Al, my best friend from high school, I think about fireplaces and Frosh and cold frosty nights. I think about long cozy naps, and making Bubble jam. I think about eating doughnuts in a mad frenzied panic because we've crossed the wrong bridge in New York City, and that mistake costs us 9 dollars in tolls. (Thank you ever so much Throgs Neck Bridge. May I never see you again.)

When I think about my friend Al I think about loyalty, kindness, and how much a few simple truths can change a life. When I think about her I think about courage and determination and never giving up. I think about a purple pig on top of my fridge, and how it already (I repeat already!) has seven cents in it. Here we go!

Thanks for coming to visit me. I love you.

Christmas

2011-12-25T11:00:00.001-06:00

Last night was Christmas Eve, that holy night, that most holy of all nights. The stars were brightly shining. It was the night of our dear Savior’s birth. Long had lain the world in sin and error pining, till he appeared and the soul felt its worth. A thrill of hope, and the weary world rejoiced! For yonder broke a new and glorious morn. Fall on your knees, and hear the angel voices! It was a night divine, when Christ was borne. Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we, let all within us praise his holy name! Christ is the Lord, let ever, ever praise we. (1)

Our Christmas story started with the trumpeting of angels. “Glory to the newborn king!” They proclaimed. “Peace on earth, and mercy mild God and sinners reconciled. Joyful all ye nations rise, join the triumph of the skies with angelic hosts proclaim, Christ is born in Bethlehem!” (2)

Their audience was a group of lowly shepherds, guarding their flock of sheep in a field. While they watched their flock by night, far far away on Judea’s plains, those shepherds of old heard the joyous strains, “Glory to God! Glory to God! Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth good will toward men!” Those shepherds followed the star and it led them to the newborn babe. (3)

The little family so earnestly sought by the shepherds were in the town of Bethlehem because of a requirement to pay a tax in the city of their lineage. O dear little town of Bethlehem how still we see thee lie, above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by. Yet in thy dark streets shineth, the everlasting light! The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight. For Christ is born of Mary and gathered all above, while mortals sleep the angels keep their watch of wondering love. O morning stars together, proclaim the holy birth! And praises sing to God the king and peace to men on earth! (4)

Those seeking Him found the precious baby in that city lying in a manger, with no crib for his bed. The little Lord Jesus lay down his sweet head. The stars in the heavens look down where he lay, the little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay. The cattle are lowing, the poor baby wakes. But little Lord Jesus no crying he makes. (5)

When the shepherds entered the manger, they found Joseph watching steadfastly over his wife Mary, and her newborn son. The shepherds and Joseph watched Mary lovingly care for her newborn son, singing him sweet lullabies to soothe him back to sleep. Silent night, holy night, all is calm. All is bright. Round yon virgin mother and child, holy infant so tender and mild. Sleep in heavenly peace! Sleep in heavenly peace. (6)

And as she lulled her baby back to sleep, the earth itself rejoiced. Joy to the world! The Lord is come, let earth receive her king! Let every heart prepare him room, while saints and angels sing. Rejoice rejoice, when Jesus reigns, and Saints their songs employ! While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains repeat the sounding joy! (7)

There was another group of righteous men who also saw the star, and understanding its meaning set out to seek the Christ child. With wondering awe the wise men saw the star in heaven springing, and with delight in peaceful night they heard the angels singing, “Hosanna! Hosanna! Hosanna to his name!” By light of star they travelled far to seek the lowly manger, a humble bed wherein was laid the humble little Stranger. And still is found the world around the old and hallowed story, and still is sung in every tongue the angels’ song of glory! (8)

And that is our miraculous, beautiful story, of once upon a time in Royal David’s city when there stood a lowly cattle shed, where a mother laid her baby in a manger for his bed. Mary was that mother mild, and Jesus Christ her little child. It is our job to come all ye faithful! Let us be joyful and triumphant! O come ye, o come ye to Bethlehem! Come and behold him, born the king of angels! Let us sing with choirs of angels and let us sing in exultation! Sing all ye citizens of heaven above, “Glory to God, glory to God in the highest” - o come let us adore Him! (9)

President Uchtdorf said, “[Let us] celebrate the birth of the Son of God, the Creator, our Messiah. [Let us] rejoice that the King of kings came to earth, was born in a manger, and lived a perfect life. When Jesus was born, the joy in heaven was so great it could not be contained, and angelic hosts parted the veil, proclaiming unto shepherds “good tidings of great joy, . . . praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.” Wise Men “rejoiced with exceeding great joy. And when . . . they saw the young child with Mary his mother, [they] fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts.” It is only fitting that we—like the Wise Men, shepherds, and angels—take time to rejoice and celebrate that glorious first Christmas Day.” Close quote. (10)

President Uchtdorf also said about our modern Christmas celebrations, “We have in our minds a picture of how everything should be—the perfect tree, the perfect lights, the perfect gifts, and the perfect family events . . . nothing short of perfection will do. Sooner or later, something unpleasant occurs . . . the turkey burns, the sweater is the wrong size, the toys are missing batteries, the children quarrel, the pressure rises—and the picture-perfect Christmas we had imagined, the magic we had intended to create, shatters around us.

But then, if we are only willing to open our hearts and minds to the spirit of Christmas, we will recognize wonderful things happening around us that will direct or redirect our attention to the sublime. It is usually something small—we read a verse of scripture; we hear a sacred carol and really listen, perhaps for the first time, to its words; or we witness a sincere expression of love. In one way or another, the Spirit touches our hearts, and we see that Christmas, in its essence, is much more sturdy and enduring than the many minor things of life we too often use to adorn it.” Close quote. (11)

Today as we celebrate the birth of Christ I would like to encourage you to look past the minor things of life that we typically use to adorn the holiday, and focus more on the sturdy and enduring aspects of it: the message of Christ’s love for all of us. Do as Uchtdorf suggested and find a quiet moment to read the account in Luke, and ponder what it really might have been like for that little family on that night, and what it meant and still means to people all the world over. Play the sacred carols, and let their sweet melodies and joyful lyrics embed themselves in your heart. Don’t wait to witness a sincere expression of love—create a sincere expression of love! Smile, laugh, hug, play. Praise Heavenly Father and thank the Lord for the gifts they have given us this day, and every day. Renew commitments made to yourself, your family, and your Savior.

I know some of you are perhaps finding it difficult to feel the joy and happiness of this season. Life can be overwhelming sometimes, and pretty songs and lights don’t make problems vanish, as nice as that would be. The December issue of the Ensign has an article by David L. Frischknecht. In that article he tells of a time when he was Bishop and feeling weighed down by the burdens the members of his ward were carrying. He knelt to pray for them, and as he reviewed their individual troubles he felt the weight of their suffering literally pressing down on him. As he prayed he felt a clear and powerful answer that God was very aware of each individual and their needs. He felt comforted by the Holy Spirit, as if it said to him, “Bishop, let the Lord take these burdens. Rise up. Do the best you can. Things will work out for these people. You’ll be fine, too. Go be their bishop. The Lord will be their Savior.” I have spent a lot of time this month thinking about that. Christ’s sacrifice is for each of us, that precious baby who grew up to be our Savior knows us and our pains and troubles, and He loves us, and we need to remember to let Him be our Savior. (12)

And so, on this glorious Christmas day, and any other day, if you, like so many right now, are feeling lost, or concerned with difficulties in your life, I would just like to remind you, in the words of Brother Frischknecht, that “Before and after He was a baby in Bethlehem and a carpenter in Nazareth, He was and is the God of Israel and the God of the whole earth. He was and is the King of kings and Lord of lords. He is the Holy and Only Begotten Son of the Living God. ... May we remember and believe that He has all wisdom and all power in heaven and in earth ... And may we have faith that He yet condescends to help and lift the least and the last, even you, even me.” (12)

There may be many things that you do not have this Christmas season. There may be things that have been taken from you due to the current economic situation, or a health situation, but there is something that can never be taken from you. This beautiful Christmas story is unlike any other story ever told: it has no ending, the characters are all real, and that precious baby lying so peaceful and sweet is our living Savior and Redeemer. When we know that, when that truth becomes real in our lives, no one can take it away from us, and it can compensate for all other losses if we allow it to.

I know he lives. I know he loves me and I know he loves each of you. I know that men are that they might have joy, and that Christ is the light which cannot be hid in darkness. (13) As today goes on and the sun sets, take a quiet moment to look at the lights on the tree, the lights on the houses, and let go your troubles, and let your heart be full of joy for Jesus Christ, he who is the light and the life of the world (14). Let him be a light in your darkest night.

(1) O Holy Night

(2) Angels We Have Heard on High

(3) Far, Far Away on Judea’s Plains

(4) O Little Town of Bethlehem

(6) Silent Night

(7) Joy To The World

(8) With Wondering Awe

(9) Once In Royal David’s City

(10) Uchtdorf, Dieter F., 2010 "Seeing Christmas through New Eyes," 2010 First Presidency Christmas Devotional, (December 5, 2010)

(11) Uchtdorf, Dieter F., 2011 “Of Curtains, Contentment and Christmas, “ 2011 First Presidency Christmas Devotional, (December 4, 2011)

(12) Fricshknecht, David L. “The Condesscension of Jesus Christ,” 2011 Ensign, December 2011

(13) Doctrine and Covenants 14:9

(14) Mosiah 16:9

Serious Talk

2011-12-21T15:54:00.000-06:00

I think it is time to get serious and discuss something that has been on my mind for a while. I need your honest input, and please try to stay objective and give me the straight facts.

I have three main discussion points that I would like to bring to the floor.

1. What is Spam really, have you tried it, and is it delicious?

2. How did Spam become SPAM, a word used for unwanted online messages? I mean, for posted mail we have "junk mail", and who/how/when/why did someone decide that for emails the word should be "SPAM"?

3. I get a ridiculous amount of SPAM comments on my blog. They used to always comment on really old posts, and I'd have to go through my archives, find the post, and delete the comment. Not only that, but they were also fairly to extremely offensive in nature (not to me personally, but to people of values and standards in general), and one in particular for some reason or another would not delete, and I started crying, and finally had to delete the entire post, copying and saving all of the comments, reposting the post, and then reposting all of my friend's comments. (Nerd alert.) But now Blogger has really improved their system, and there is a nice separate folder for SPAM comments so I can delete them before they ever show up on my blog for the public to see, AND since the update, even though I actually get MORE spam comments now, for the most part they have not been offensive. They usually start off by complimenting me on my creative/inspiring/aesthetically pleasing blog, and then there is a long link to some website where you can buy GREAT cell phones for CHEAP!

This one in particular made me smile, and if whoever wrote it is by chance an actual reader of my blog who just happened to also be a salesmen of GREAT cell phones for CHEAP, then to that person I would like to say, thanks for the sweet comment.
"Never thought blogging could be sooooo fun and interesting. Man you know how to do it brother." and from the link it looks like this person wants to sell you an Android.

In comparison, this is what most of the SPAM comments I get lately look like:
"Thanks on creating one of the most stylish blogs I have come across in a long time! It's truly incredible how much you are able to take away from some thing simply because of how aesthetically gorgeous it is. Youve created a fantastic be site fantastic graphics , structure. site!"
and this one wanted to sell educational toys for kids, actually. A departure from the cell phones!

So my question on this third point is, do you get SPAM comments like this too, or is my blog somehow targeted? Occasionally I get 100 hits a day from Pakistan, all to the same post... and then the next day that post will have a spam comment.

Just To Be Clear

2011-12-20T23:17:00.001-06:00

I would just like to clear something up. I even took pictures so that you wouldn't have to take my word for it. Those of you who live around here, and see us frequently throughout the week, might have developed the opinion that I spend more time on Hallie - her hair, her outfit, the cleanliness of her face. Because when they stand side by side when we are out and about it often certainly looks that way. I would just like to state here, for the record, that when we leave the house they are in equal states of cuteness. While it's true that I don't spend as much time on Hanna's hair as I do on Hallie's, that is just because it is much shorter and so I really have only three options: comb it, ponytail it, or pigtail it. Which I do. Every day (or nearly...). And every time while we are in the car on our way to wherever we are going, she pulls it all out. That's why when we arrive Hallie looks great, and Hanna looks like I have let birds nest in her hair.

To reiterate: Hanna really is cute too, I promise.

Child's Play

2011-12-17T22:52:00.000-06:00

What they don't tell you about being a stay at home mother is that sometimes it is boring (or am I the only mom who feels that way sometimes?) When Hallie was old enough to play, but refused to play by herself, I would at times sit down and "play" with her. But at that age her playing wasn't all that involved, it wasn't all that interesting, and day after day of it, I think you get the picture.
She's older now though, and much more willing to play on her own, and she loves imagining and playing pretend. She comes up with the craziest stories, and she gets involved in the most intricate role playing scenarios. And as she has grown up her favorite type of playing also happens to be what I enjoyed playing most when I was a little girl. That's why, even though I made this for Hallie, it's usually me that ends up playing with it most.

Here you can see the fire truck on its way to save the day, and the pig on his way to the market. Bacon. Nice. You can see the parking lots I made, and the various buildings we have in our town, usually an assortment of grocery stores, schools, houses, etc.

Here you can see in the corner the swimming pool, which Paula Purple is driving home from, right next to the lake and beach with fish (that's my favorite).

Here's the farm, probably where the pig was born and raised. I need to get more farm animals... that horse looks kind of lonely.

They usually have a zoo set up too, but we didn't get to that this time. Excuse their jammies, I was so excited to play I didn't even get them dressed until after...

Who knows what we'll come up with next!

Thanks Pinterest! (I got the idea from here.)

Five Years Ago

2011-12-17T10:52:00.000-06:00

Five years ago today was a special day for me. It was the day that marked the culmination of four and a half years of hard work, and I was proud of myself for what I had accomplished. My classmates, peers, and friends gathered together in robes and silly hats and waited for their turn to walk across a stage, their name scrolling across a large screen, to collect a piece of paper in front of a crowd of hundreds of people, filled with their own friends and families.

On that day, five years ago, I was not in a robe. I was not in the auditorium. I was not with my classmates, and none of my family was in the audience. I remember I was sitting in a chair in a building on campus we referred to as the Institute. The Institute is a building that only a very small percentage of Purdue students know about, and yet it will always be the most special one over there to me. The students who are lucky enough to discover it find a safe haven, a place to study, eat, nap, laugh, socialize, fall in love, take religion classes, and even attend church on Sundays. I'm sure I spent many more cumulative hours there than anywhere else on campus during my years at Purdue University.

And even on the day of my college graduation that's where I sat. Waiting for something even more exciting and important to me to happen. In eleven days I was going to marry my favorite person in the world, and I was going to marry him in the Nauvoo temple. And I was much more caught up in thinking about wedding dresses than graduation robes.

this picture is from here.

In order for that to happen though, first I had to meet with a couple of people, who would make sure that I was living in a certain way, because only those who are willing to make and keep the promise to live this way can enter this building. I waited in the chair and reflected on my life. I don't smoke, I don't drink, I don't gamble, I keep myself morally clean, I am honest in my interactions with others, I donate 10% of my income, and I do my best to be the best person I can be. I was ready for this interview.

You might be wondering why I scheduled my interview for the exact same time as my college graduation. Yes, a good question. The man that I had to see is an incredibly busy man, and when the time came for me to schedule an appointment with him, he was gone to various places in Europe all but a few days out of that entire month. I couldn't be terribly choosy, he did after all also have a family that wanted to see him at least a little bit the few days he was home.

And not once in five years have I regretted missing my graduation. Every single day for five years I am glad that I sat in that chair and waited. It has been a beautiful five years.

If you want to know more about the temple and why it was so important to me to go there, click here.

Snowman Yoga

2011-12-16T20:03:00.000-06:00

Two weeks ago on Saturday we got a couple of inches of fluffy, beautiful snow. Hallie begged and begged all morning long to go out and play in it. When we put Hanna down for her nap I talked Devin into taking her out. I sat on the couch and watched them stomp and romp and finally get down to the business of building snowmen.

This is actually Devin with Hanna, she went out for a few minutes when she woke up.

At first they built just a little baby one. After that one was done they came inside for Hallie to go potty, and she was very concerned that the little snowman didn't have a mommy. I told her to tell Daddy he needed to make a mommy snowman for the baby one. So of course, good man that he is, he built a mommy snowman.

Every morning Hallie and Hanna would check on baby snowman and mommy snowman like their very existences depended on the well being of this little snowman family. Then one morning, after a warm(ish) night, mommy snowman looked a little different. The girls were all riled up, until Daddy and I explained that she was just bowing.

Then we had another warm(ish) night and the next morning her forehead was almost touching the ground. This time I told the girls that the mommy snowman was doing yoga. She continued to do a downward dog in a more and more extreme position for about a week, until finally one morning we woke up and there was nothing left outside but sticks. A pile of sticks. I guess if we go out and pick up those sticks before it snows again we can recycle them when we make our next snowman family.

Much better yoga than I could do, even when I am not in my current physical state of limitations. Devin was very impressed that she was somehow defying the law of gravity.

Hallie's Talk

2011-12-14T21:06:00.000-06:00

We've been staying after church for a couple of hours every week the past few Sundays while Devin does tithing settlement. I realize that I could come home with the girls, but it seems to me that they are easier to entertain when there is a huge gym with basketballs, and rooms to explore, and drinking fountains, than at home with their same old same old dolls and whatnot. So we stay.

Hallie likes to stand at the pulpit in the seminary room and give talks. I managed to write down this one as she gave it last Sunday:

Thanks for my heart because it helps me think of my brain.
When it comes to love you can see again.
Don't ever cry over toys, just always say please.
On Tuesday we go to church and then on Monday we will be taken to heaven.

The only part about this that makes me nervous is that I really do go to church on Tuesdays, twice actually, in the morning for Music Makers and in the evening for activities with the young women...

what if this is an "out of the mouths of babes" type thing?

Santa Baby

2011-12-12T20:41:00.001-06:00

Santa loves me, yes he does.

It is unclear which of us is having the most fun, but I dare say I think it is me.

Devin and I like to give ourselves the big presents early, apparently.

So for the people who like to know details: It is a Schmoller and Mueller. Don't worry if you've never heard of it, it was a local piano store in downtown Lincoln, I don't know when they went out of business but this particular piano is about 50 years old. We bought it at a music store that was right next to the Schmoller and Mueller piano company, when they were still in business. It is the perfect piano for our little sticky-fingered, still- learning- how- to- play family. Although, since having it I've been playing about an hour every day and if I can say so, I am much better than I thought I was. Merry Christmas!

Deal With It

2011-12-06T21:43:00.001-06:00

Hallie never took a pacifier as a baby. She was more than happy to suck on one if I was willing to hold it in her mouth, but the minute I removed the pressure keeping it in her mouth, it fell out, and she never showed any signs of missing it

Until she was two years old. She found some of her pacifiers that I had been saving in case Hanna wanted one when she was born (she didn't) and suddenly Hallie had an intense and constant need for one. At first I thought it was just a phase, and I thought it was kind of funny and cute, and whatever. I let her have it. But when it became really clear that she wasn't going to give it up, it became an issue of frustration for me: I'm going to have to deal with weaning her from the pacifier when I had never enjoyed the benefits from it when she actually "needed" it as an infant.

We went through a few tantrums and now I just keep them hidden out of her sight, because if she sees one lying around (as I prepare for Heather - do you think she'll take one?) she pops it right in her mouth and another fight ensues, and I am so so so tired of that fight. I mean, it just seems really especially useless since she never wanted one as a baby.

That being said, I think what we're entering now is worse. On Sunday she would not stop sucking her thumb. ?!?!?!?!?!

Now, I'm fine with thumb sucking in general for babies and young toddlers. But like with the pacifier, I never once saw Hallie put ANY of her fingers in her mouth at any time, in fact sometimes when she has some food item on them and we are somewhere without napkins (say, in the car and she's had a sticky candy) I tell her to suck on her fingers - and she will not. She just never seemed to understand the concept. Until now, apparently.

And so, much like with the pacifier, I find myself with an almost four year old who never sucked her thumb when that could have come in handy as a soothing technique, and now I'm going to have to wean her from that too.

I am hoping and praying it doesn't become a big deal, when Devin saw her do it he got into a big fight with her about it, a battle of wills. When I saw Hallie do it later I didn't want to get caught in that, causing her to suck on it just to spite me (which she would totally do) and so I pulled it out of her mouth and I said, "What do you have on here? Strawberry jam?" and I thoroughly inspected her thumb. She stared at me like I was crazy, and popped it back in her mouth. I pulled it out again and said, "Oh, do you have something stuck in your mouth that you are trying to get out? Let me see." And I tipped her back and pretended to try and look in her mouth while tickling her. This distracted her enough that she did not put it back in... but will this work every time?

AND last, but not least, where did this come from?! Is it normal for kids to pick up these behaviors at the age when I would have thought they should stop them?

I Believe in Someday.

2011-12-03T13:40:00.001-06:00

One of Devin's colleagues enjoys taking pictures, and has an entire studio-like setup in his basement. He and his wife invited us over for lunch and to have family pictures taken. Given that we are so bad at taking pictures of ourselves, how could we pass up this opportunity? Not to mention the fact that they are from Sri Lanka, and the food was fantastic and delicious. I've been craving it ever since...

I never really saw the pictures that he took, because not only are we bad at taking pictures we are bad at printing them, looking at them, cherishing them, etc. But I found them today! And some are kind of funny. I present you, Rose Family circa Spring 2011.

Waiting for Mommy to be ready, or something.

I'm really not sure what I'm so excited about.

If only Hallie smiled like this for all pictures, we'd be set. Hanna is finally looking less bored with life too!

Someday we'll try again to take family pictures. And someday I just know we'll have a good one.
Someday. I really believe in it.

Winners Announced!

2011-12-02T00:05:00.000-06:00

The winner of the tutu is: Tarver Family
The winner of the hair accessory is: Karin
The winner of the yellow watercolor by Hallie is: mimihalley
The winner of the green watercolor by Hallie is: Grandpa
The winner of the strawberry watercolor by Amy is: Alison
The winner of the Thanksgiving magnets is: "M"
The winner of the Autumn magnets is: The Plant Princess
The winner of the everyday magnets is: MJ
The winner of the Mary Kay makeup is: The Maughan-sters
The winner of the homemade chocolate covered peanuts is: Kim Davis

Congratulations winners, and thanks for playing everyone! I had a lot of fun. I need the winners to send me their addresses to my 14 roses email address, that's at gmail and there are no spaces.

Thanks!!

Snowmen

2011-11-30T12:10:00.001-06:00

I've certainly had my issues with Pinterest, but there is no denying that it is a great place to find great ideas. About a week or so ago one of my friends pinned a snowman that you could cut out, and he had some accessories that you could cut out as well that you (or your toddler) could use to dress him. I have a fondness for snowmen, and so I immediately printed one off and began scheming. I knew that between the three year old and the one year old that live here a paper snowman with paper accessories would not last long, even if I printed him on cardstock. And I wanted this snowman to really live, you know, Frosty style.

So I printed two for Hallie to color and cut out, she loves cutting things, and that kept her entertained the entire time I was working on mine. I printed off two sets for myself, and colored one with silver and blue accessories, and one with green and red accessories. Then I laminated all of his accessories. Then I traced and cut the snowman part out of felt. Then I glued him onto another piece of felt, and then stuck that onto a piece of foam-board stuff, to give him a sturdy feel, but keeping him soft. Then I glued pieces of flannel to the back of each of his accessories so they would stick on to the felt snowman.

He was a huge hit at the doctor's office yesterday. I had my glucose test, and so not only was it an appointment, but I had to wait to drink the stuff, get really sick, then wait for my appointment, then have the appointment, then wait for the blood to be drawn, then get four tubes (FOUR) drawn, and THEN we could go home. Needless to say, we were there for a while. Frosty saved the day.

Blogger won't seem to let me upload any pictures, so I will try again later. Until then, thanks Frosty.

We have two snowmen, one for each girl. They have two top hats, two snow hats, two scarves, two ties, and three pairs of gloves. The blue pair of gloves looks like that because I stole one of Hallie's that she had colored on and put blue sharpie over, because I decided last minute he needed a blue pair of gloves.

Original Snowman Cut Out Here.

5th ARFAFGHMP

2011-11-26T23:56:00.001-06:00

(Less than a week left until I work out the winners for the ThanksGIVEaway! I'm getting so excited... Devin taught me how to create a random number generator. Wee!)

'Tis the season for traditions, and we've been celebrating our favorite traditions big time around here lately. We started off with the 4th ARFAFTR (Annual Rose Family and Friends Turkey Run), and then we quickly followed it up with our 5th Annual Rose Family and Friends Gingerbread House Making Party. Each year we invite different people, and this year we invited Devin's graduate students. One is from Colombia, and one is from China - needless to say this was a new experience for both of them. Devin said he thinks they spent quite some time googling "Gingerbread Houses" before coming over so they would know what kind of candy was appropriate. (We always make our guests donate a bag or two of candy.) You won't want to miss the surprise decoration Devin put on his and Hanna's house...

Hallie and I worked together on our house.

Devin and Hanna worked together on this one. Devin stuck Hanna's leftover pizza on the roof. I know, right?

4th ARFAFTR

2011-11-24T21:07:00.000-06:00

(What do you want to win on my ThanksGIVEaway?)

Devin recently heard somewhere that the average American consumes 3,500 calories during their Thanksgiving meal. When I double checked that number with him and asked him where he had heard it, he said he couldn't remember, but that yesterday on the radio he heard that the average American consumes 5000 calories on Thanksgiving Day. So, take from that what you will...

Devin has also recently heard that between Thanksgiving Day (or Halloween?) and New Year's Day the average American will gain 9 pounds.

Devin says that I should not quote him as my source, but it doesn't really matter what the numbers are or whether or not they are strictly true. I think we all know that a massive amount of eating occurs in the holiday season, and most of it delicious sweets and treats.

That is not why Devin and I started the ARFAFTR (Annual Rose Family and Friends Turkey Run) but it sure is a motivating factor! Last year Hallie ran 3/4 of a mile, not all together but when you add up her little sprints we're estimating that's about what she did. I think she walked the rest, totaling 2 miles for the day. Not bad for little tiny legs! Hanna was, of course, in a stroller last year, seeing as how she didn't know how to walk yet and it was extremely, ridiculously cold last year. That's also the reason I have no pictures from last year. I wouldn't have been able to hold the camera with my three pairs of gloves on.

But this year the weather was nice. This year Hallie did a mile and a quarter, and Hanna ran about a 400, but did a mile if you count riding on shoulders. For the record, Mom did 1/2 a mile at a slow jog, and Daddy clocked in 10 and a quarter miles. Way to go Rose Family Runners!

What Thanksgiving Traditions do you enjoy? And what do you do to keep holiday pounds at bay?

Teaching

2011-11-21T11:22:00.001-06:00

(Win something on my ThanksGIVEaway.)

I have a degree in elementary education, which is what I had wanted to do my entire life, ever since second grade when I got to write on the classroom chalkboard. Devin and I got married eleven days after I graduated, and while I did work for one semester, we then moved from Indiana to Iowa to the Netherlands to Illinois and then to Nebraska, during which time I had two babies.

Needless to say, my degree had gotten kind of dusty hanging on the wall. I mean, you don't really have to teach kids the alphabet or their numbers or colors, they learn those things well enough just from every day life, but Hallie is old enough now that she wants to start writing and reading. Now there is something I can really sink my teeth into. I can't express the joy it gives me to go back to drawing those D'Nealian style letters on the chalkboard, learned from hours practicing my Zaner-Bloser handwriting (a course which I aced, naturally). And that joy is surpassed when I watch her little fingers gripping her pencil making shaky lines in imitation of mine. While I find it a delight to teach any child to do something new, it is incredible watching your child do something for the first time.

Especially when it spells Daddy. What do you love to do?

ThanksGIVEaway

2011-11-16T15:06:00.001-06:00

In a week we will find ourselves feasting with family and friends. We will reflect on and share with each other the good things in life that we are grateful for. And I think that's great, to give thanks.

My heart lately though has been leaning in a slightly different direction, I've felt an emphasis on a different part of the name of next week's holiday. My heart is filled with gratitude to people who have reached out in love, sympathy, and support when they see others in need.. Those who have voiced prayers, and kind thoughts and words on our behalf, and on behalf of people seeking comfort everywhere. The people who have watched children, sent flowers, made meals, and done so much more to try and ease burdens. And my thankful heart wants to GIVE back to these people, as a small way of saying Thank You.

So today I present you with my ThanksGIVEaway. You know those big fancy blogs that are sponsored by corporations and have big fancy giveaways with hundreds of people vying for the awesome prize? I am clearly not one of those blogs, but what I give comes from my heart. I will be giving away 10 prizes, and since I have only a handful of readers your chance of winning is through the roof. The deal is as follows: leave a comment, telling me which prize you'd like to win. If you hope to win more than one, please leave it in a separate comment so I can keep myself organized. Devin with his statistical know how will help me choose random winners (he assures me that pulling a name out of a hat is not statistically random, so trust me when I say that it will be a much more highly sophisticated method than that) and then I will announce who has won what, and you will email me your address so I can mail you your goodies.

The ThanksGIVEaway will open Thursday, November 17 and close on December 1. That's one week before Thanksgiving and one week after. So check to see if you have won anytime after midnight on December 1. The prizes I am going to give away are as follows: a tutu from Tangerine Tutus, a hair bow from Tangerine Tutus, a watercolor by Hallie, a watercolor by ME, a set of magnets for holiday use, a set of magnets for seasonal use, a small collection of Mary Kay makeup, a box of homemade chocolate peanut candies, and a set of magnets for everyday use.

Strawberry Shortcake Tutu from Tangerine Tutus (available in sizes newborn to 5t)

Black and Pearl Satin Lollipop Flower Hair Accessory from Tangerine Tutus

YELLOW - a watercolor by Hallie Rose

GREEN - a watercolor by Hallie Rose

Strawberry Shortcake - a watercolor by Amy Rose

set of Three Thanksgiving Magnets

set of Three Autumn Magnets

Mary Kay I Love Lashes mascara (in black or black brown), lip gloss (beach bronze), a set of four eye shadows (honey spice, sienna, blue metal, vintage gold), and Creamy Frosted Vanilla body mist in a gift bag

NOT PICTURED:

set of Four Everyday Magnets (I couldn't take a good picture. Sorry.)

box of homemade chocolate peanut candies (you want them fresh, don't you?)

GOOD LUCK TO YOU!

Something to Smile About

2011-11-16T01:02:00.001-06:00

Just in case you, like me, needed a little prompting for something to smile about.

Devin and I were going through the pictures again, looking for gems to include on the Christmas letter. (Which, by the way, if you don't get one is because Devin is a self-acknowledged Grinch and he is putting my limit at 45. Forty five! That barely covers my family. Crikey. Ahem, oops, that was not in the spirit of this post, so please forgive me.)

ANYWAY, here are some classic pictures that made me smile. They insisted on being shared.

Devin said, "Doesn't it look like Hallie had an accident?"

Clearly, it was just an ill-advised painting on the bottom of the kiddie pool.

I wish I had words to express how much I love this picture, but I don't. There's just something about her little bum, and the hat, and how it all comes together...

I don't know why this picture is upside down. It was not oriented this way when I uploaded it... Anyway. Meet my father, and the infamous Bubbles. He's possibly the oldest cat around. He was my favorite napping buddy when I was in high school. Here you can see him pestering my father.

Apparently I took too long getting Hanna's lunch this day. Sorry kiddo.

Thanks for keeping Hanna warm, Mom.

I think Hallie's hair is like a miracle of nature, or something. How else does it still look good, even while swinging a bat? You know she didn't get that hair from me.

I love this look that says, "I think, actually, that I will wait until I am 16 to go on dates."

Best part of my day: Finding my girls like this. I just wish it happened more often...

It Goes On

2011-11-12T13:02:00.001-06:00

Outside Devin is pushing Hallie high on the swing.
The grass is still green, and the sky is blue with puffy white clouds. I can hear her shouting gleefully, fully enjoying her special moment with Daddy. The flowers and garden are all withered and brown, except for those sturdy ones in special out of the wind locations.

Inside the sun is streaming through the windows making warm spots on the carpet.
The washing machine is humming, and the clock is steadily ticking the passing seconds. Hanna is softly asleep upstairs in her bed, snuggled up in her blankets. There is bread dough rising in a bowl on the counter.

I see and I hear and I feel and I know all of this is going on around me, and yet inside myself I am stuck in time, last Saturday. Last Saturday I had no idea where my girls were, or what they were doing. Last Saturday I was adrift in a sea of tears, embraces, shaky smiles, bouquets of flowers, condolence cards, hugs from family and friends who traveled both near and far to comfort us all.

Somehow I have to figure out a way to catch back up to today. Put on my shoes and go swing outside with Hallie. Or crawl into Hanna's room and lay down beside her.

Thank you for all of your prayers and kind words and thoughts. Thank you to the people who watched my girls so I could be with my family, and for those who brought meals so I didn't have to worry about Devin worrying about dinner. These past few weeks I have been reminded that there is an abundance of wonderful people in this world.

Thank You.

Halloween

2011-11-10T11:22:00.002-06:00

Well I still don't have any words, but I needed to put something new on my blog, not to cover up the last post, but to remind myself that time really does go by, and life does go on. I racked my brain trying to come up with something, and there is still nothing there. BUT some friends took pictures of the girls at Halloween, and so if you will forgive me for posting them so late, I know there are at least 6 people who respond to various forms of the word "grandma" or "grandpa" that will be interested in seeing them.

This is at the ward trunk or treat. Hallie and Hanna are ballerinas, it was kind of chilly so Hallie has pants on and they are both wearing jackets, but their tutus are still cute. Devin is a scarecrow, you can't see his awesome patches, but he's a raggedy little scarecrow. My costume came together in the last fifteen minutes before we left, honestly I hadn't been feeling very well and wasn't sure I would go at all, but everyone was so excited it was contagious, and we pulled this together for me. Devin called it "misguided fairy", although many people thought I was trying to be an angel... which I thought was interesting. You can't see it in the picture, but I have silver eye shadow on up to my eyebrows, and purple eye shadow on half way up the eyelid. Pretty intense.

On the actual night of Halloween we went trick or treating with Hallie and Hanna's cute little buddy Cole. She plans on marrying him someday. A few minutes before it was time to get dressed Hallie insisted on being Clifford. Thank goodness she still fit in it from last year. Hanna is a ballerina again, and their buddy Cole is Professor Harold Hill, from the Music Man. That's his hero.

Hold Them Closer

2011-10-31T12:54:00.002-05:00

It is strange for me to sit down with a blank screen and the intent to write and have no words come. Especially when last night I could not fall asleep for all the words crowding my head. Especially when words are what I use to understand myself and what I am feeling.

I guess all I really want to ask is that you do two things for me today. Pray for my family, especially my brother, Dan and his wife, Rachel, and to hold your babies close. Hold your loved ones tight for as long as they will let you.

(I am sorry I cannot explain, to understand what I am talking about please see my sister's beautiful post here.)

Mystery

2011-10-28T17:06:00.000-05:00

I've been going through our photos looking for good ones to include with this year's Christmas Letter. I came across this one that I took last winter, and it reminded me of the Mystery I Never Solved.

Every morning I would come downstairs, look out my back windows, and see new paths in the snow. I realize that that is not strange, and I think they all must have been bunnies. We have only ever had one squirrel visit our backyard that I've ever seen, and somehow a large dog did get in once, but other than that I think our snowy visitors were pretty much just bunnies.

Normal animal (bunny) tracks through the snow.

Then one morning I came down to see this. The tracks went straight from our side gate to the play house. Naturally I just assumed it had been Devin, who had for some reason gone out the front door, then around back through the gate, and into the play house, and then somehow... had come out again and back inside... without... leaving... any second set of tracks...

But I called Devin, and he had not gone into the play house at all that week.

So then I said, well, I guess it was just an extra large bunny.

And then I wondered why a bunny would make a beeline from our gate to our play house, and how it got back out... without... leaving... any... second set of tracks.

The whole thing sort of creeped me out, so I took a few pictures to document the weirdness, and then blissfully forgot about it. This morning though, this morning of Halloween weekend, I came across it again, and sat staring at it... wondering what had happened in the middle of that night last winter.

Happy Halloween.

Boys and Flannel: Two Lessons Learned

2011-10-27T15:45:00.001-05:00

I have recently learned two things about myself, about life, about the difference between boys and girls, or perhaps just the difference between any two people, and I learned about my own limitations.

The first lesson involved a quilt that I am making, a baby blanket, out of flannel. The flannel was an impulse choice, I was walking around sort of aimlessly, looking at the fabrics, when I saw four colors grouped together in a way that made me happy, and so I took a yard of each color, not sure exactly what I would do with them, but knowing it would satisfy something deep inside me to do it. Ah, it might have satisfied if only it had been any fabric but flannel - not knowing then what I know now and all.

Here are the things I have learned about flannel:
1. It is a stretchy fabric. It is quite willing to pull and give and wiggle its shape all over the place. You have to be very stern with it, poking and prodding it with pins to show it who is boss.
2. It is also a very sticky fabric. This means that when you place one piece on top of another, you know, to piece the quilt together, and then you have to make some small adjustment, it sticks and sticks and then according to some law of physics, it suddenly jolts apart much farther than the minute amount you wanted it to move. And so you start over, it wiggling and stretching and sticking when you least want it to.
3. It garbles up my machine, filling it with lint and essence of flannel until my machine is coughing, choking, spitting, gagging, poor old thing. Although, actually, my machine kind of does that with a lot of fabrics.

My second lesson is about boys. A friend of mine has two young boys, one recently three and the other 15 months old. She had somewhere she had to be most of yesterday and all of today. I told her I would watch them for her, this long before I knew I was pregnant, and long before the hernia had started bothering me again. But the day for them to come dawned bright and I was feeling really good. They are good boys, and didn't really give me any trouble either day - but sakes alive am I exhausted. I still would have offered to watch them, I'd watch them again next week if she needed me, but I definitely learned something about boys. (or, again, is it just a difference in personality?)

Here are the things I've learned about boys:
1. They are a force of nature. They are tornadoes, hurricanes, elephant stampedes, thunder and lightning, they are stone walls. Which, in all honesty, I think makes their affection that much sweeter, when they lie soft and still, or cuddle their heads into that spot between your neck and shoulder, when they smile at you with their big cheeks covered in chocolate from warm gooey cookies - it warms you inside in a way that I don't get from my girls.
2. Force of nature, yes. Whining, complaining, high pitched squealers they are not. I think the phrase I currently use most often with Hallie these days is, "Try saying it again. No whining this time." I have yet to hear these guys make a single whining sound.
3. All little kids have energy, but it seems to radiate off of boys in a different way. Like, the energy from girls radiates in transverse waves and boys in longitudinal (I remember a few things from college).

I guess this experience has just really heightened my appreciation that we are having another girl. Don't get me wrong, little boys are great, and these little boys especially are genuine sweeties, well behaved and good natured. The thing is that I feel like I've been trained in girldom, and to have a boy suddenly thrust upon me would shatter everything I know about parenting. Like
if you had spent your time training to run a marathon, only to be told that the test would be whether or not you could shoot 90 out of 100 free throws.
if you had spent years studying 15th century Spanish poetry, only to be told that the final exam was only going to cover nuclear phsyics.
if all of your sewing experience was with cotton, and suddenly you were trying to make a blanket out of flannel.
if you had spent all your life on Venus and were suddenly told you had to move to Mars.

Now, I realize that millions of parents the world over have both boy and girl children. I guess those parents are the ones that excel at the triathlon, or get double majors in Psychology and Calculus, but I don't think it's me. Because apparently, all I can sew on is cotton.

I guess my best hope is that if I do ever have a boy I can also find a crash course in Mars-living. And in flannel-sewing too, I guess, you know while I'm at it.

Braid

2011-10-22T09:09:00.002-05:00

*Note: I have added pictures of the bunk beds to this post.
In Nebraska we get gale force winds. I guess it is all part of the package deal of living in the prairie with no trees or mountains (and by no trees, obviously I mean as in forests, we have trees in our yard and such.) The other factor is that Hallie has fairly long hair, for a three year old. When you combine these two seemingly unrelated items, what you get is a girl who gets very frustrated going outside because the wind whips her hair into a frenzy and she can't see and it gets all tangled and then she cries when I comb it out. For those of you who are now thinking that I should just be rational and cut all her hair off in a normal three year old cute cut, I just can't. I have only cut her hair once, and I think it will probably take me another two years to get up the courage to do it again.

Hence, we've discovered braids. I mean, I always knew about braids, but since living here I have learned that you average everyday quick braid, nor your typical French braid are enough. Her hair will be pulled loose by the wind if I don't do something extra, so to say. So I've been experimenting with braids and styles and mixing styles (the ponytail braid is our favorite, for swimming, when we went on the airplane, long car rides, nothing holds little girl hair back like the ponytail braid.) Sometimes when I am sitting around with nothing important to think about, I think about Hallie's hair and different ways I could braid it that might be even tighter, stronger, better. Then I try to remember this idea long enough to try it on her hair, and then at times it works and at times it doesn't. When it does work, you'd think that I would take pictures, or notes, so I can remember it to do it again. I don't. So I almost never am able to do the same braid more than once. Which I guess is good for my creativity (necessity is the mother of invention, yes?) but on harried mornings (ha ha, get it?) it would be nice to just have a go-to quick braid, in addition to the ponytail braid, that I could do.

A few weeks ago Hallie let me experiment on her hair and I came up with this one. AND I DID ACTUALLY TAKE A PICTURE! Now, here's where you come in. This braid ended up kind of loose, because I was doing it in the basement and didn't have extra hair ties or bobby pins, and I was just playing around. I would love to practice it more and see if it can be a viable option for windy days. This is where you come in though. I have studied this picture, and tried to recreate it, but I just can't figure out what I did. Yesterday I tried to duplicate it, and failed. The resulting braid was pretty, and I did leave it in, AND I TOOK PICTURES OF THAT ONE TOO. (this bits in all caps are your cue to be impressed that I took pictures of something) So I'd like you to please, please, please compare the two pictures and tell me where I went wrong, or just look at the first one and tell me what I need to do to make it happen again. Surely if my brain came up with it once I should be able to come up with it again, but when you factor in Heather feeding on my brain juices all bets are off.

Original braid.

My attempt at recreating the braid.

Although now that I examine the two in the pictures, I think I got closer than I thought I did. One missing link is that I didn't French braid all the way down, I don't remember how I did that and made it look good...And does it look like I merged the two French braids into one braid, and then braided the remaining hair all together in one big one? Am I making any sense? Please, help. And please remember that the initial picture was just a loose attempt, without a comb or anything so forgive its lopsidedness.

Ruffy

2011-10-18T20:06:00.001-05:00

I tell Devin everything. That's good in a strong marriage, right? It occurs to me however, in hindsight, that perhaps he doesn't need to know every single little thing that I hear/read/see/think about.

When I was growing up we always had pets. Cats, dogs, fish, rabbits, ferret, and usually quite a few at a time. I was also sickly as a child. Like, all the time sick. I don't know when it first dawned on me and my family that I was allergic to cats and dogs, but at some point we saw the light. We kept the pets. I love cats and dogs, and wouldn't have wanted to get rid of them just because I had a sniffly nose and bad cough. I had always had those things, I didn't really know what life was like without them, so I didn't see what the big deal was.

Then I moved away to go to college, and lived cat and dog free for four years. And while I still got sick a normal amount, for the most part I could breathe. I had no idea how effortless breathing was for most people! It slowly began to sink in that maybe a life without cats and dogs would be the better option for me, but I still clung to some hope of having a non-allergenic pet of some sort.

Devin grew up without pets. Not a cat, dog, or reptile in sight. Oh wait, I take that back. They had some hamsters when he was little, but I don't think from the stories he tells that he was altogether fond of them. As a runner he has developed quite a strong distaste for dogs, and I don't know exactly what his beef is with cats but they definitely rub him the wrong way.

Hallie has gotten it into her mind that someday she will be the proud owner of a dog named Ruffy. For weeks she was confident that any day her daddy would come home with Ruffy in his arms and hand the fluffy little puppy to her, for her to love and care for all of her days. No matter how much Devin insisted this would never happen, every day she told me it would. Then she learned (somehow) about animal shelters. Now every day I hear her asking me when we are going to the animal shelter to get her Ruffy. Hallie is so convincing in all her details about this dog and what he looks like that one of her friends asked me a few weeks ago if she could come over and play with Ruffy. Whenever Hallie sees a dog like the one above (a lab) she tells me that is what Ruffy looks like. Every single time.

Sometimes Hallie gets so downhearted that she doesn't have her dog yet that it breaks my heart. She never whines, or complains, or throws tantrums. She just keeps asking me "when" - with the utmost faith of a child that it is not a question of "if" she will ever get this dog, but "when". It would be easier to say no if she'd holler and be a brat about it.

My sister has two cats. They are really cute cats, and Hallie and Hanna love them to pieces when we go visit. (I get a little sick, but I love the kitties too.) My sister wrote this post earlier this week and I told Devin all the gory details. He said, "We are definitely never getting a cat." Oops. What compelled me to tell him that story?

At least it was about cats, and not dogs. While I would probably prefer to have a cat as a pet than a dog (they seem like less maintenance, what say you?) the dog was what Hallie really wants most, and what I could most likely talk Devin into (it will stay in the backyard all the time, promise!)

So please, don't tell me any dog horror stories because I might not be able to stop myself from telling them to Devin.

If You Give A Man

2011-10-15T18:00:00.000-05:00

Having spent most of his adult life living in apartments, with little to no need for powerful power tools, the extent of Devin's selection of tools was fairly limited. I had a small collection of tools of my own when we got married, my dad had bought me an electric screwdriver, another some sort of screwdriver, and my mother had bought me a set of small tools including two types of pliers, a wrench, a hammer, and yet another screwdriver. This set was painted. With flowers. Devin mainly tried to avoid using these tools.

When we bought this house and moved in, Devin keenly felt the absence of a drill. I would hear him saying things like, "If only I had a drill, my life would be complete." In all honesty, he has absolutely never said anything like that, but if you take out the female sentimental undertones you can get the gist of what he was saying.

Enter Father's Day 2010. We had a gift card from Sears, courtesy of the nightmare experience of buying our washer and dryer from them (please, don't ask. The story has the ability to raise my blood pressure to an unhealthy level) and as Devin has solemnly sworn to never make another purchase from Sears as long as he lives, I knew that I could use that card however I wanted, and what I wanted was to buy my man a drill.

And we lived happily for months with our fancy, shiny new drill. Then I began to hear whisperings of "what I wouldn't give for a saw." (again, my words) We had many other items for the house demanding our money (dehumidifier, mulch for the yard, a treadmill, new running shoes, and whatnot.) But, holidays come around every year and soon enough it was Father's Day again. This time I had a gift card to my local Ace Hardware Store, you know, the friendly place? In I waltzed and bought my man a saw.

A few months later Devin celebrated his birthday. I came up with a hundred and fifty brilliant ideas for his birthday present, things that I really wanted to give him that I thought he would really like. He turned down all of them. He ended up with a power sander that he picked out himself.

This is when things really started to pick up around here. I made Devin stay home from work when we got back from Pennsylvania because the girls were in serious need of some daddy time. But Devin has to have something to do. So I gave him a list of options for the day, including: going to the park, going to the library, going to the Children's Museum, or going to Home Depot and letting the girls ride in the race car cart.

Devin, of course, chose the Home Depot option. Which meant that he spent the morning wandering around the house with a tape measure trying to find projects that he could do that day, especially now that he had a drill and a saw. With a few projects in mind as options for the day we went off to Home Depot. We wandered around that store, looking and evaluating what we wanted most versus what we wanted soonest versus what we were willing to spend money on, and we came home with 27 pieces of wood, in various sizes, some screws, and some wood stain.

All this, just to tell you that if you give a man a drill, and then you give him a saw, and then you let him pick out a power sander and many pieces of wood in differing sizes, he just might - I say he just might make your daughters bunk beds. Hanna is still too young to sleep in hers, but Hallie is crazy about her new bed.

A Look Inside

2011-10-13T14:24:00.000-05:00

If you had knocked on our door at dinner time on Monday evening, and if we welcomed you in (of course we would have welcomed you in, silly) you might have noticed the following things.

The pumpkin pie almost certainly would have caught your attention first, because of the amazing aroma wafting from it. Hallie's favorite book right now is called "The Little Green Witch" and it is a Halloween version of the Little Red Hen, wherein the little green witch finds pumpkin seeds, goes through the whole thing by herself, and ends up eating the pumpkin pie all by herself. Well, first she turns the ghost, the gremlin, and the bat into little red hens. Every time we read it Hallie asks me why she does that. I tell her that they should have helped. Anyway, ever since this book became number one on her list she has wanted to go to a pumpkin patch and get her very own pumpkin for pie-making. We made it out to Martin's Hillside Orchard (an orchard, I know, but they have a very nice patch, and it is my favorite in the area) and she picked out the perfect pie pumpkin. Well, Sunday night came and I was very sick. Devin stayed home from work on Monday and as part of his campaign to keep from going stir crazy with "nothing to do" he and Hallie made her pumpkin pie. I'm sad I missed it (I slept all day, literally) but Devin told me that as Hallie slid her pie into the oven she said, "I"m a little green witch!" Once you manage to divert your attention from the pie, you might have seen:

Hanna, clearly enjoying her food. On her plate you will see her fourth serving of mashed potatoes with chicken gravy, and a few remaining green beans, which she did finish. This girl knows how to eat.

Once you've moved past her cute little cheeks, you will see my firstborn. Please note her bib, "I Love My Big Sister". Clearly we're not too concerned with technicalities around here. On her plate you will see a huge pile of green beans (which I think she did eventually eat, she does actually like green beans) and a pile of mashed potatoes, and behind her cup you would have seen a pile of the chicken gravy. I think she had three helpings of the chicken gravy, but she would NOT let us put it on her potatoes. Throughout the meal she kept telling me, "Mommy, I love mashed potatoes. They are yucky stink. Throw them in the trash. Don't touch it. But I just love them mommy." Huh. At least she ate the beans and chicken, yes? Oh, and, that is Hallie trying to smile for the camera. School pictures are going to be AWESOME.

Here's the man who makes it all possible. He didn't want me to take his picture. But you certainly would have seen him had you been looking around our table, so I don't know what he's fussing about. He was so thoughtful to make a meal that is easily digestible, soft on the throat, and my all time favorite - even though he doesn't like mashed potatoes at all. (Crazy, I know. He has funny taste in food sometimes.)

AND he had even less to complain about because I let him take a picture of ME: sick, pregnant, and kind of gross looking. You can barely see that my plate is scraped clean, of every last bean and morsel of potato and gravy. Thanks Devin.

Oh, and the pie, which we ate after family night, was delicious too.

Thanks for visiting. Come again anytime.

And Sarah J (from high school, not Lincoln) - I totally had already written this blog post BEFORE we talked last night, isn't that funny? It doesn't get much more "real" or "honest" than a picture like the one of me above, am I right? Wow.

It's Abstract

2011-10-12T10:46:00.001-05:00

I know very little about art. Even less about photography. I know that there is an abstract movement in art, but is there one in photography?

Devin was clearing the table from dinner a few nights ago, and when he picked up Hallie's plate he said, "Honey! Look what Hallie made with her dinner!" and laughing I told him to run and get the picture, because she had created some form of art, so it seemed to us.

For dinner that night she had carrots dipped in ranch, part of a jam sandwich, and berries that finally ripened in our backyard. From these elements, can you see what she crafted? Or are Devin and I losing it?

Hope this brought a SMILE to your face, like it did to ours. Have a great day!

Temporarily Permanent

2011-10-09T19:22:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I really panic. (No surprise to any of you, I'm sure.) I get stressed, and worried, and anxious and stumble around in a confused state of mind consumed by this thought that has taken over my being and made it impossible for me to focus on anything else. Right now the disabling concern is that this state of being that I am currently in, physically, not mentally, is permanent.

In one part of my brain I know, of course, that the headaches (I got one every day this week), and the backaches, and the nausea (every morning still, although I do not vomit THANK GOODNESS), and the acid reflux (a new nightly problem), and the sheer, absolute, bone numbing exhaustion are pretty much all neat side effects of making a new person. That side of my brain knows that in a few short (relatively speaking) months I will feel like myself again, healthy and strong and able to do what I want with my body.

And yet, in another side of my brain, I am terrified. What if this is who I am now? What if my existence has been reduced to twenty minute bursts of energy, followed by regretting I had ever gotten up to do anything because that brief amount of activity had exacerbated the (fill in the blank with one of the above pregnancy complaints).

Basically, I lay awake at night unable to sleep because running around and around in my brain like a hamster on a wheel is the worry that this pregnancy will never end. February will never actually come, and/or if it does, the symptoms will not go away and life will continue on like this for me, every day miserable and emotional and overwrought.

Completely irrational, right? As I write this, it is the other side of my brain that is in control, and that side of my brain is embarrassed that I am even talking about this. That side of my brain is mainly the one that is in control, but when both girls are fighting over one toy, or when I need to make their lunch but I don't know how to get off the couch, or when Devin is ten minutes late coming home from work, the other side of my brain stages a swift coup d'etat and I am helpless. I am powerless, lost in the abyss of a tortured mind that confuses something that it knows is temporary by fixating on it as permanent.

AND so, to unite the two parts of my brain, I make a solemn resolution, and I do it here in front of all my friends. I will take a deep breath, and remind myself that
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die...

...a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance... (Ecclesiastes 3:1)

And as I remind myself I will tell myself that if I need to break down, I will break down. And then I will build myself back up and get on with my life. If I need to weep, weep I will. If I need to laugh and dance, please, come over and laugh and dance with me. And most of all, I will remind myself that this baby will have its time to be born, and I will feel better once more.

But, I will also remind myself that, in the event that something catastrophic happens and my life is filled with endless days of physical discomfort or pain, that too shall pass in time. I will remind myself that

My [daughter], peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high... (Doctrine and Covenants 121:7-8)

So my mantra becomes "even this, is temporary."

The H Factor

2011-10-03T13:48:00.005-05:00

I never thought I would be one of those families that has some themed system for naming their children. I don't think there is anything wrong with it, I just never thought that I would be coordinated enough to pull it off. So imagine my surprise when people keep asking me if we are going to "stick with the H's", because, shocker though this may be, we did not do it on purpose. It is kind of fun the way it has turned out, though.

My parents did have a system for naming their children. As I understand it, my dad picked the names for the boys, and chose the names of his two best friends. My mother picked the names for the girls, and picked names of friends that she liked (the names, not the friends. Of course she liked her friends.) She wanted to go with Patricia for either my sister or I, but my dad said no. So, we ended up with Peter, Daniel, Amy, and Michelle. Then they each gave us a middle name beginning with an H, perhaps because both of my parents have middle names beginning with an H (once my mom moved her maiden name to her middle name, that is). For middles then we were Hurn, Helaman, Heather, and Halley.

Now to my first pregnancy. We found out it was a girl, and Devin wanted to name her Heather. I was not so keen on the idea. Not at all. But I have always liked my sister's middle name, and so we agreed on that, and I changed the spelling to reflect my mother's name as well: Vickie. Thus, we had Hallie.

When we were pregnant with Hanna, we knew that if it was a boy we would name him David Jonathon. When we found out we were having another girl, we were in serious name trouble. Devin brought Heather up again, and again, I was not so keen. We struggled. Then one day I was talking to my friend Hannah on the phone, and after hanging up I asked Devin what he thought of that name. He liked it. Yippee! Baby girl had a name. It never entered my mind that we now had two H's, until other people mentioned it. As for the spelling on that one, one day Devin was practicing writing it to see how it flowed (he's a funny man) and I noticed that he kept spelling it H-a-n-n-a, with no 'h' on the end. When I asked him why he was spelling it like that, he informed me that hello, that is how Hanna is spelled. I asked him what happened to the 'h' on the end. He said there is no 'h' on the end. I told him that it is MY friend whose name is Hannah, and there is most definitely an 'h' on the end. We ended up looking the name up in a name book, and lo and behold, you can spell it both ways. Go figure. Thus, Hanna, and our second H, was born.

Along came this pregnancy, and yet again, we knew that if it was a boy we would name him David Jonathon. (I'm actually sort of beginning to miss this person that has never existed, my little David Jonathon. Where is he?) Devin had the temerity to again bring up Heather, if we found out it was a girl. Now it has been four years that he has been talking about "his Heather". Four years is a long time to say no to your husband. I began to think of the baby as Heather, in my head. Then one day I made the mistake of telling Devin that. That's when I knew the discussion was over, and so, slightly crossing my fingers that it would be a boy - if only for the David Jonathon vs. Heather bit - we went to the ultrasound.

I couldn't stop laughing when they told me we were having another girl. Heather.

That's how we ended up with three H's, and why, if someday we do have a boy, his name WILL NOT begin with an H. But, if it satisfies you, he will have the same initials as Devin. Happy? Well, I am.

Ready... Or Not?

2011-09-28T20:05:00.000-05:00

Sometimes these little people send quite the mixed message.

Devin decided a while ago that Hanna seemed ready to start potty training. She shows a lot of interest in the potty, and that Hallie doesn't wear a diaper. She likes to pull on Hallie's panties over her pants and rock out like that. Devin doesn't think I should let her do that, but who am I to say no to hilarity?

I wasn't quite sure if she was ready, because she never wants me to change her diaper, and I thought one of the signs that a child is ready for potty training is when they want the dirty diaper off... fast. But maybe I made that up? Anyway, she fights me and fights me at diaper changes, which, admittedly, does make the idea of her going on the potty very enticing.

So, we got out the old potty chair and put it in the bathroom, and at night when Hallie is going her pre-bedtime you-know we have Hanna sit on the little potty chair. She loves it. But it's really more of a game for her. She'll yell "wee-wee!" and sit on the potty for two seconds. Then she jumps up and yells "done!" then when you try to put the diaper on she rushes back onto the potty and yells "wee-wee!" Until you tire of this and force the diaper on her.

This afternoon, while Hallie was still napping but Hanna had woken up, she decided she wanted to sit on the potty. I took this as a sign of progress. "Wee-wee!" she kept yelling, pointing to it, as I took off her diaper. She sat down and I wondered if we would end up just playing the usual game. Yep. Two seconds down. Jump up! Repeat and repeat.

Hallie woke up from her nap and came stumbling into the bathroom. I smoothed back her hair and talked to her for a minute, sort of ignoring Hanna and her potty routine. Just as I was turning my attention back to her, she peed all over the floor. "Wee-wee!" She yelled, to which I immediately started saying, "Potty!" and trying to shove her little bum onto the potty while there was still something coming out. "Diaper! Diaper! Diaper!" she responded, at the top of her tiny lungs.

She would not stop yelling diaper and pointing at the wee-wee (to use her word) on the floor. So, I wrapped her little bum up in a clean Elmo diaper and sent her on her way. I can't help but wonder what this means. Clearly, when she originally asked me to go to the potty she really did have to go. Did she know that, or was that just dumb luck? Because if she did know that, and asked to sit on the potty, that is clearly a flashing sign saying "READY!!" But, if it was just dumb luck and at the first sign of wetness coming from her body she wanted a diaper, that is clearly a flashing sign saying "NOT READY".

I'm stumped. You?

Results Are In

2011-09-27T22:42:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time...

There was a man and a woman, named Devin and Amy. They started out building their family by adding a little girl. Two years later they had another little girl.

And, it looks like, come February, we'll be having

another little girl. The girls came with us to the ultrasound, and at one point Heather (yes, Devin is finally getting his Heather) waved her little arm at us. It was pretty sweet, Hanna said "arm? arm?" When she first showed up on the screen we got a good shot of her head and Hallie said, "Head? Is that the baby's head?" It is always so fun to see these little babies and feel like they are really starting to be a part of the family. I'll put up a picture of the ultrasound tomorrow.

For my own notes, the final vote on this poll was 61% voted boy, 38% voted girl. Which doesn't actually add to 100...?

41 Hours To Go

2011-09-25T17:51:00.002-05:00

There is a comfortable silence that sometimes falls between couples that have been together for a while. In our home I am frequently recognized as being "the talker", but lately when we have lapsed into silence it is Devin that breaks it.

"Our lives are going to change forever on Tuesday." He will suddenly say, his voice unable to conceal his excitement. At first I thought this statement was overly dramatic, something more in line with what I might say than Devin. Yet as I have heard him say it over the past few days as we get nearer and nearer to 10:15 on Tuesday I can't help but agree.

When we find out if we are having a boy or a girl so many of our thoughts will begin to revolve around that new knowledge. If it is a girl, Devin worries about creating a "sorority" somewhere in the house for all the girl stuff, (his big plan is to have them all bunk in the basement once we get it finished. Wouldn't they love that?!) If it is a boy, then he has to worry about teaching him how to be a good man.

I think about things like: if it is a girl, then I don't have to worry about getting a lot of new things, we're pretty well set in that area. But if it is a boy then I get to go shopping! SHOPPING!

When we ask Hallie if she is getting a new brother or sister, without fail, every single time she tells us that it must be a brother because she already has a sister.

On my poll (you can still vote!) Devin voted that we were having a girl, because that is what he would like to have again (because by now he is familiar with their ways) but he actually thinks we are going to have a boy (scary new territory).

People keep asking me what I think we're going to have. I think I have purposefully tried to avoid thinking about it, because I don't want to feel disappointment with whatever we find out. Boy or girl, I will love this little baby.

I did however, vote girl on my poll - but I was just trying to even out the numbers. You know me.

The Past

2011-09-23T22:07:00.001-05:00

Is it coincidence? Is it an accident? Just plain, dumb luck?

When I go to the library, sometimes I have a planned list of the books I am going to look for, books that are on my to-read list over at Goodreads. But if I haven't had the time to sit down and look through that, then I just head to the library and quickly browse for titles that look interesting, meet my content criteria standards, and take as many of those home as I can find.

And I don't know what it is, be it pure chance or fate. The first time it happened, I came home with two random titles, and they both ended up being novels about mermaids. Huh, I thought to myself. Then a while later, I came home with a stack of books and two of them were about women who lived through tragically horrible building fires. That's when I really started to question just how random the picks of these books really were. This most recent trip to the library, I came home with a really huge stack (most of which I had actually requested the librarians get together for me based on my goodreads to-read list). And as I was reading through these books the last week or so, I noticed yet another trend. Nearly all of these books were set in the late 1800s or early 1900s. What, I ask you, WHAT are the odds of that? I can't help but wonder what theme of novel I will come home with next.

As I read book after book set in this time period I noticed another trend. Each one filled me with some sort of undefinable longing. The more I read, and the more I thought about what I was reading - and in particular thought about the lives of the women described in this stories, the more I was able to begin defining this longing. It pretty much boils down to this: sometimes, I wish I had been born in that time period.

Call me crazy. I mean, I know and I am grateful for the wonders of the modern world. I am happy to have a dishwasher, washer and dryer, refrigerator, hair dryer, car, modern medicine. Yes, I recognize the advantages of having these and I am appreciative of the luxury they are in life.

But... but... but...

I wonder if I would appreciate my days more if they truly ended when the sun went down. Would I appreciate the beauty of a good night's rest more if I could see the stars winking out my window? Would my daughters value their possessions more if they only had one toy? Would I think more about how and where I spent my money if each dollar - even each nickel - still had actual value?

I guess what I'm muddling my way through trying to say here is that I do appreciate my life. I know I have it easy, and I know I have it good. I just can't help but wish that I could appreciate it more. Live it more. Embrace it more.

And that is why, I have made the final decision. If ever faced with the option of transporting into a fictional place, or past time, I would choose the late 1800s over Narnia, over NeverNeverLand, over the Shire, over any other place or time ever written about. The Shire comes in second though, just so you know.

Family

2011-09-21T21:39:00.000-05:00

You know, friends aren't the only ones who can play that multiplication trick. Families do it as well.

It is a simple formula really.

You take this:

and introduce them to this:

and almost five years later you can easily get this:

*Results are not guaranteed.
(From left to right: Emily, Hanna, Tabitha, Hallie, Daniel, Annibelle, Jill, Callie)

This time, I searched for about ten seconds to find old pictures. But don't worry, my sister didn't fail me. She sent me some pictures of the three of us in high school. Thanks, Meems.

Sometimes, late at night, when I don't think anyone will hear me, I cry for that hair.

I think Sarah looks exactly the same as she did ten years ago. (Pictures in reference to this post.)

Friendship

2011-09-20T22:20:00.000-05:00

Isn't it amazing how three people, in a matter of a few short years can go from this:
(and here I really REALLY wanted to put a picture of us in high school, but, and Sarah will probably praise the heavens for this, I couldn't find one and didn't search longer than three seconds. Maybe Mimi will send me one?)

to this:

note: there is one small person missing in this picture. I think Daniel was already sleeping?

I love your cute little family Sarah, and it was so good to see you. Let's try not to make it four and a half years this time, yes?

What We Did

2011-09-15T22:38:00.000-05:00

So yes, my last post was probably a little depressing. And the fact of the matter is, even though we found out the tragic reason we had been sitting there/would sit there for so long, we still had four small people to keep happy.

The girls really did do a pretty good job of entertaining themselves. All things considered.

Don't you love how happy something as simple as taking them out of their seats can make them? I mean, check out Daniel!

Levity

2011-09-12T12:10:00.000-05:00

I returned home last evening from a little vacation. My mother had been planning it for months, and we had been looking forward to it for just as long. The plan was that I would fly from here to Ohio, where my sister would pick me up, and then we would drive from Ohio to Hershey, Pennsylvania. In Hershey we would meet up with my mother, and my two sisters-in-law. Oh yes, and all the babies. For those who haven't been keeping track, or don't know my family, that's seven girls three and under, and one bubbling, bouncing baby boy. We'd spend a week in Hershey, eating chocolate and whatnot, and then I was to drive back to Ohio with my sister, and then catch a plane back home, where there would be a happy reunion with Devin. That was the plan.

Isn't there some sort of phrase about the best laid plans? The thing about plans is that you really only have so much control over life. There comes a point when, after having made your plan, you just have to let it play out as it will... and sometimes the outcome is not at all what you had planned it to be.

The drive from Ohio to Pennsylvania was supposed to take us ten hours, and we left at six in the morning, anticipating that we would get to our destination in time for dinner. It was fairly smooth sailing, until we hit mile marker 119.3 on I-70, I-76. I suppose someday I will forget the exact spot, but right now that's hard to imagine. There was a flashing sign warning us that traffic was stopped up ahead, followed by two police cars pulled off on the shoulder with full lights and sirens blaring to alert us that we needed to slow down and prepare to stop. And stop we did. For three hours.

Did I mention it had been raining all day? There is not a whole lot to do with four children in a van on the freeway in the rain - especially when said children and adults had already been in said van for seven hours. We got out coloring books and colored for a while, we shared m&m's, and then when it became desperate my sister found an umbrella and took the little people for walks in the rain. We watched a numerous host of men wander over, across the muddy grass to the fence, and women all up and down the freeway cursed nature's inequality.

My sister and I took pictures of the kids and we tried to keep a lighthearted attitude, making jokes about plans for awesome blog posts with titles like "What to Do with Four Babies in a Van in the Rain for Three Hours". These jokes pretty much stopped when we learned why we had been sitting there for so long.

Apparently someone on a motorcycle had been going 90 miles an hour, despite the rain and fog and general low visibility and slick roads. The car in front of him put on his brakes and the motorcyclist did not have time to stop. The smiles vanished from our faces as we heard about this. My sister took the kids four cars down to meet a nice dog and I sat in the van watching the drops of rain slip down the windshield. I couldn't help but wondering why he had been going so fast in such awful driving conditions. Was it a desperately important errand, as in he had just learned of a loved one in the hospital that he was rushing to see? Or was it an errand of over inflated importance, such as being late for a job interview? Or was it something incredibly trivial and ridiculous, such as the bike being new, and he was young, and doesn't it feel exciting to have the wind and the rain rushing by so fast? I will of course, never know why he was going so fast, and so close to the car in front of him. I will never know what family he left behind, and in what situations they now find themselves. I suppose all I can really do is pray for his family, pray for the person in the car in front of him who had braked who has to deal with what happened, and urge caution for people everywhere when traveling. Wherever you are going and for whatever reason, don't you think the most important thing is that you get there? So please, make sure you get there.

Extra Verses

2011-08-31T20:58:00.000-05:00

Hallie and Hanna love singing. They love when I sing. We sing a lot. Sometimes I get tired of the same verses over and over, and so I make up new ones. Sometimes Hallie requests a song, and I have no idea what she is talking about, so I make one up. In case you are in need of a new song or new verses, I will share them with you:

She begged and begged for a song about butterflies, but I knew no butterfly songs, so I came up with this.
The Butterfly Song (to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star)
Flitter flutter, butterfly
You look so pretty in the sky
Come land on me and we will play
Together on this sunny day
Flitter flutter, butterfly
You look so pretty in the sky.

Hallie and Hanna are on a huge "Leafy Treetops" kick right now, and I got tired of singing the only two verses that I know over and over, so I came up with two more.
Extra Verses (to the tune of Leafy Treetops)
In the soft green grass the bunnies are hopping
Be nice to all your friends
Be nice to those you see
in the soft green grass the bunnies are hopping.

In the warm sunshine the bees are buzzing
We have some work to do
we must start right away
in the warm sunshine the bees are buzzing.

Now, the "Old Grey Mare" song is only two lines long, and Devin thought that was simply ridiculous, so I came up with a few new verses for that one. This one was really fun for us to come up with.
Extra Verses (to the tune of Old Grey Mare)

Oh the jumpy little goat
knocked over my fence again
over my fence again
over my fence again
the jumpy little goat knocked over my fence again
I'll sell him to the zoo.
sell him to the zoo.
sell him to the zoo.
Oh the jumpy little goat knocked over my fence again
I'll sell him to the zoo.

Oh the old red rooster
crows in the morning
crows in the morning
crows in the morning
The old red rooster crows in the morning
and all the way through the night
All the way through the night
all the way through the night
Oh the old red rooster crows in the morning
and all the way through the night.

Oh the sweet brown cow
gives lots of good milk to us
lots of good milk to us
lots of good milk to us
The sweet brown cow gives lots of good milk to us
every day of the year.
Every day of the year
every day of the year
Oh the sweet brown cow gives lots of good milk to us
every day of the year.

Oh the soft little hens
make egg after egg for us
egg after egg for us
egg after egg for us
the soft little hens make egg after egg for us
morning, noon, and night.*
Morning noon and night
morning noon and night.
Oh the soft little hens make egg after egg for us
morning, noon, and night.

Oh the squealing pink pigs
eat all of our leftovers
all of our leftovers
all of our leftovers
the squealing pink pigs eat all of our leftovers
and soon we'll have bacon
soon we'll have bacon
soon we'll have bacon
oh the squealing pink pigs eat all of our leftovers
and soon we'll have bacon.

Oh, and don't forget the "Honey Song" that I made up when Hallie was desperate for a honey song, and again I didn't know one, so I made some adaptations to the infamous "Bunny Song" from Veggietales.
The Honey Song (to the tune of the Bunny Song)
The honey, the honey
Whoa! I ate the honey
I don't want my soup or my bread
Just the honey
I don't want a salad
I don't want a steak
I don't want a fork
And I DON'T WANT A PLATE!
The honey, the honey
Whoa! I ate the honey.
But now I feel sick
in my tummy
from the honey.

Happy Singing!

*I have no idea how often hens lay eggs.

Why Why Why

2011-08-29T14:27:00.000-05:00

It doesn't take much to get her started. Today, it began with nothing more exciting than a picture of a man driving a bus.

I thought that I had already mastered the art of deflecting the "why" questions, but today I was really tested - and I don't want to see my grade.

"Why is that man in the bus, mommy?"

"Because he is the bus driver."

"Why is he the bus driver?"

"Because that is his job."

(I will now forgo the quotation marks, and the separating per line, I think you get the picture.)

Why is that his job? Because that is what they pay him to do. Why do they pay him to do it? Because he needs the money. Why does he need money? So he can feed his family. Why does he feed his family? Because he loves them. But why does he feed them when he loves them? Because they get hungry. Why do they get hungry? Because they need to eat. Why do they need to eat when they get hungry? Because their bodies need food. Why do their bodies need food? Because that is where we get our energy to do things. Why do we need energy from food? Because that is the way God made us.

It is exhausting. I feel sort of like my brain has just had a workout on one of those hamster wheels.

Love and Happiness

2011-08-27T23:33:00.000-05:00

I found a scrap of paper a while back on which I had written some moments when I feel God's love, and just generally am very happy.

I feel God's love when I hear a child laughing
It is eating cornbread hot with butter and honey.
It is seeing your mother's eyes in a brand new face.
It is bursting in fireworks in the night sky.

My sister added her thoughts as well:

I feel God's love when I see my baby's sleeping face.

It is smelling freshly cut grass.

It is watching "dead" plants come back to life in the spring.

It is catching my husband's eye and smile at the dinner table after a long day.

It is the part of me that I will never lose.

When do you feel God's love, or what never fails to make you happy?

Today

2011-08-25T21:57:00.002-05:00

Today was the kind of day that starts off with all signs pointing toward awful, and you wonder desperately how you are going to get through it.

Yesterday was a good day, Hallie had some friends over and while they played the moms and I discussed our plans for play school this year, and it was so fun to have a houseful of friends - for the girls and for me. The bad news is, I spent a great deal of time bending over picking up toys that had migrated from the toy room to every other room of the house. Having 10 kids over will do that. Bending over to pick up toys shouldn't be a problem, except for my little friend. Remember my little friend? Apparently I really aggravated it yesterday, because for most of the three and a half years that my little friend has been with me it hasn't bothered me more than a day or two here and there, but only during the last months of pregnancy when my belly is big and hello, things are stretching.

And so to have it hurt so much when I'm just over three months into this thing was disconcerting to say the least. It got worse as the day went on, until at bedtime last night every breath I took felt like someone was beating me with a hammer, and every move I made felt like someone was skewering me with a sharp knife - from the inside. I cried all night.

That is what made today's outlook so bleak. This morning Devin asked me what I was going to do, how can I get through the day if not only can I not bend over but I can't pick up Hanna - can't put her in her high chair, car seat, CRIB - how can I be a mother if I can't even hold her to read her a story? Hold her when she cries? Because doing all of those things = intense, unbearable pain.

And yet, I am here to tell you that I actually had quite a lovely day. My friend Kristen called this morning and said she was coming over to take care of me. An angel on earth, I tell you. She came and was here from 9:30 this morning until 4 this afternoon. I pray that blessings from heaven rain down on her head. She fed my children, she carried them around, she read to them, played with them, and was basically mommy today while I... sat on the couch, and later while I... took a nap in my bed (because finally I could lay down without too much pain). My friend Brooke came over as well and provided another pleasant distraction for me from the pain.

This is why today, which had all the earmarks of being one of the worst days on record for me personally ended up being quite nice. I mean, raging internal pain (and subsequent headache) aside. Let's hear it for friends!

Don't know what a hernia is? Mine is an umbilical hernia, and it means that there is a hole in my stomach muscles through which some of my stomach fat is bulging. Yes, you can see it, and yes it is gross. And, also if you were wondering, originally the surgeon said I could wait to have surgery until my child bearing years were over, just to be safe, because it was very small then, but the hernia is at a point now (much larger) where I should not delay having surgery (obviously once this baby is born).

Sweet Peaceful Moments

2011-08-23T22:34:00.000-05:00

Yesterday when I was finished doing the girl's hair I was on my way out the door to go brush my own teeth and get myself ready for the day. Hanna wanted to read Go Dog Go, but so did Hallie. Hallie had it first, and so I asked her if she could please just hold it so Hanna could see it also, and read it out loud to her. (Hallie has many of her books memorized from hearing them so many times.) Hallie said she didn't want to read it to Hanna, she just wanted to look at it. I asked her to just please be nice and let Hanna at least see the pictures too.

Then, leaving them to their own devices (at certain points they have to work out their own relationship, don't you think?) and hoping that Hallie would, at least, decide to let her sister look at the pictures with her, I went to brush my teeth. When I was done with that I saw that I still had about fifteen minutes before we had to leave to go wherever we were going, and so of course... I laid back down in bed. I picked up my scriptures to read, because the house was quiet and you've got to grab those moments when you can, ya know?

So I'm reading in bed, enjoying the quiet, when I begin to hear sounds from the girls room. I lowered my book to listen. I hear Hallie say, "The light is red now. Stop dogs stop!" followed by Hanna yelling, "Stop!" Then I hear a page turn, and Hallie's voice, "The light is green now. Go dogs go!" followed by Hanna yelling, "Go!".

Thank you so much Hallie, for giving mommy that sweet peaceful moment, and thank you for "reading" to your sister. She loves it, and so do I.

The Winker

2011-08-21T22:48:00.000-05:00

A man winked at me at the library a few weeks ago.

But that isn't really the beginning of this story.

I knew that I wanted to marry Devin approximately five minutes after I met him. When I knew for sure that we were going to be married, my friend Al printed off pages and pages of rings, wedding and engagement, and I went through and circled the ones I really liked, exed out the ones I couldn't stand, and so gave her a feeling for what I wanted. And I really only wanted one ring. One very simple ring that I could wear first as an engagement ring, and then as my wedding ring.

Devin called Al up and asked her if she would help him find a ring that I would like. They found the perfect one. As a 17 or so year old girl at a church activity we had made wedding cans, where we put all our hopes and dreams and plans for our ideal wedding into a can, sealed it, and never opened it until we were engaged. When I opened mine after Devin proposed, I found inside a picture cut from a magazine that was the mirror image of the ring he had given me.

It was a very simple ring, just a band with a string of small diamonds running across the top, inlaid into the band. I was very particular about not ever having a diamond scratch any future babies I might have. The bad news is that Devin proposed in August, and so when I went to have my finger sized (so Al would know what size to tell Devin to get - we were all so sneaky sneaky behind everyone's backs) my finger was summer-plump. Yeah, I don't know if that is a medical issue for most people, but my fingers (apparently) swell considerably in the summer.

And so, I quickly learned that I had to take my ring off in the fall, when it got cold, go without it all winter, and could only put it back on in the spring when it began to warm up again. Because if I tried to wear it through the winter it would fall off at random times: while trying to eat dinner at a restaurant (I had to crawl under the table), while waving goodbye to friends, while doing anything that involved moving my left hand. Which, I use considerably less than my right but is still in fairly frequent motion.

This system of wearing it only in the summer worked great for me, and Devin and I joked about it because he can't wear his ring in the summer. (a long story for another day) And so I was ringless in the cold months, and he ringless in the hot. What a couple we were. But as I said, we got used to this system and moved our merry way through life. Until an unexpectedly cold Saturday in March. I had decided that it was finally warm enough for me to put my ring back on, and so doing I then went out to work in the yard. I put on my gardening gloves and worked for hours. It wasn't until the evening of the next day, Sunday, that I noticed it was missing. I had gone for months without wearing it, remember, and so the naked finger didn't bother me immediately, but an awareness that something was wrong slowly overcame me until I figured it out. And started crying. Devin searched everywhere. He combed through the grass. The flower beds. He turned the gloves I had worn inside out. We never found my ring.

I would occasionally think that I should get a new ring, but it felt like a betrayal to my old perfect one, and it felt like admitting defeat. That in buying a new one I was acknowledging the complete loss of the old one, and I was not prepared to deal with that.

Enter the library winker. I had at times previously wished that I had a ring on my finger - that comforting symbol of marital status. But it had never really been an obvious issue, as no one had paid much notice to me either way. And then out of nowhere, I'm standing at the checkout line, helping Hallie check out her books, when I happen to look up and see a guy that I've seen at the library often turn at the same moment to look at me, and wink. I'm sure it was a harmless wink, just a sort of nod your head gesture, or friendly wave, but geek that I am I totally freaked. Not knowing how to respond I gave a sort of non-committal half smile that was certainly more of a grimace than anything else, scooped up Hallie, Hanna, and my books, and took off.

I was determined to get a new ring. Granted, he probably was not flirting with me. But I knew that I would feel better with one on my finger. And, as fate would have it my friend invited me to a Lia Sophia party. So I went, planning on only spending the birthday money my Grandma had sent me. (Thanks Grandma!) But then I saw a small, simple, shiny little ring calling to me and couldn't resist. Take that Library Winker, I thought as I ordered it. (Actually, I wasn't thinking about him at all. I was thinking, "I hope Devin doesn't mind that I just picked out my own "wedding ring" without telling him...")

It's true, this ring probably cost a fifth? a tenth? of what my original ring cost. But as I have felt it safe and secure on my finger (I ordered two sizes smaller than my original ring), and each time I look down and see its bright and perky shine on my hand, I can't help but feel happy.

And Devin says that now that I've finally gotten a new ring I'll find the original one in the yard tomorrow. I wish.

What is Happening?

2011-08-20T23:35:00.000-05:00

When Hanna was still waking up regularly at night and I would have to get out of bed and go to her, I would occasionally find Hallie curled up in a tight ball, asleep. The strange part was that she would be asleep on the floor, in the middle of the hallway, sometimes right in front of our door.

Now, Devin and I don't lock our door at night. Hallie frequently comes in when she is sick, or even just when she has to go potty. She'll wake me up, I'll say, "Ok, go use the potty then get back in bed." She says "ok", she goes into our bathroom, does her business, flushes and then goes back to bed. I tell her good night as she goes out the door. So I know that she knows she can come into our room if she needs something. So why in the world do I find her on the floor in the hallway?

One time I was in a deep sleep, but was suddenly jolted straight out of it. I don't know if Hallie made a noise or if my subconscious just became aware of her presence, but one night I woke up to find her standing two inches from my face at the side of the bed, just staring at me. I think I screamed, and jumped two feet in the air. My socks might have flown straight off my feet. I tried to calm down, and said, "Hallie, do you need something?" She didn't answer. "Hallie, go back to bed." She turned around, and walked back to her room. I presume. I wonder now if she didn't just go lay down in the hallway, curl up on the floor, and fall asleep.

One time I was awakened in the middle of the night to the sound of her crying. It was not her normal cry, and I lay in bed for a minute just listening to it. Then I got up to see what she needed. Imagine my surprise when I found her sitting, head in her hands, at the top of the stairs. "Hallie, what's wrong?" I asked her. All she would say is that she needed her dog. She never sleeps with a stuffed animal. But, since it seemed to be important that night I found her a dog, and put her back in bed. It scared me though, that she was sitting there at the top of the stairs. Did she know where she was?

I think I have caught her sleeping this way five or six times in the past few months, and I never thought anything of it, until last night. I assumed toddlers sometimes just got out of bed and wanted to see what it was like to sleep somewhere else. But last night as I came up the stairs and saw a dark lump on the carpet and thought to myself "gee, I don't remember leaving anything on the floor right there", and upon closer investigation realizing that it was my daughter I began to wonder if this was, in fact, normal behavior. Do children do this? I don't know much about sleepwalking, but is it possible that she is sleepwalking?

This is totally normal though, right? Your children and your friend's children and your sister's children - they all do this too, yes?

Momma Said

2011-08-18T23:28:00.000-05:00

What's that old saying?

Something about not judging someone until you've walked a mile in their shoes?

Unfortunately for me, I guess that means my children can judge me now.

Note to self: Start hiding shoes.

A Description

2011-08-17T14:18:00.000-05:00

I like to read. I think most of you know this. I recently finished reading Sherlock Holmes (collection) by Arthur Conan Doyle. What impresses me most about these authors of the long - gone era, including Jane Austen, Wilkie Collins, and you know the kind of author I mean, is their incredible ability to describe their characters. I refer you, as I did in this post, to Wilkie Collins' description of one of his characters: "Some of us rush through life; and some of us saunter through life. Mrs. Vesey sat through life. ... A mild, a compliant, an unutterably tranquil and harmless old lady, who never by any chance suggested the idea that she had been actually alive since the hour of her birth."

Nowadays, it seems that when an author wants to describe their character it goes something like this: "She looked at him, and she saw him. He had brown hair, and chocolate eyes. He was hot. So hot she trembled." (Not a paragraph from an actual book... but I've read similar statements.)

Now, is it just me or do you feel much more connected to Ms. Vesey, even if all she does is sit through life, than to this random hot guy with chocolate eyes? I mean, who is he? Why do we care about him? Just because he made her tremble with his smoldering good looks?

And so as I read these descriptions of characters I can never help myself but wonder how they would describe me if I were to be a character in one of their books. If I were to be a side character in a Jane Austen, what would she have said about me? If I were coming to Sherlock Holmes for help in solving, say, the case of the cut finger, how would Sir Arthur describe me as I came in through the door of Baker Street? I have no illusions that it would be entirely complimentary, if at all. These authors sought for honest, real characters and they weren't afraid to show their faults and weaknesses. And so, I present to you my attempts at making myself into a character in a novel.

"It was evident from her haphazard, staggered manner of breathing that her body had long ago forgotten how to inhale and exhale in a normal, repeatable pattern. Her body clearly suffered from frequent attacks of anxiety. Based on her outward dress and overall appearance the cause seemed to be a gaping chasm between the organization of lifestyle she craved, and the actual chaos within which she lived."

Or perhaps, this one:
"She had a comic air about her, in a tragic sort of way. The details of her appearance suggested a deep disconnect between her mind and her body. The disappointment evident in the lines of her features provided evidence that the factions were at war, and her body was not the victor. Her limbs seemed to move of their own accord, as though the body were desperately trying to be engaged in doing something productive, an effort which was stymied by the disordered contents of her brain that demanded she do nothing, nothing at all."

I hope you know that I write these as representations of myself as I am right now. And perhaps as I am in just the first trimester, too.

My Brain

2011-08-15T22:46:00.000-05:00

To give you an indication of just how much I am struggling, I will give you some key indicators.

a. We have lived here for almost a year and a half now, and I still think of our zip code in Peoria when writing our address. They aren't even close to being the same.

b. I frequently can not remember our phone number. Again, a year and a half I've had this number. So please don't ask for our cell phone number, I don't really know it.

c. Every time I have to go somewhere, if I don't give myself an extra ten minutes to search for the keys, we'll be late. I always find them in the most random spot and think "why in the world would I have put the keys here?" I so wish I could blame this on the girls...

My main question as I lay awake at night is this: am I going to recover use of my brain in nine months, or is this permanent? I mean, I remember mommy brain with Hallie and with Hanna, but right now I really feel like I'm sailing at half mast. Does that even make sense?

A Riddle. Just For You.

2011-08-13T23:42:00.000-05:00

When is a medium shrimp not a medium shrimp?

Any guesses?

None? None at all?

Come on, somebody?

All right. I'll tell you.

A medium shrimp is not a medium shrimp when it is being used as a visual aid to represent the approximate size (this week) of our as of yet unborn third baby.

Last week, it was a lime. I think I liked last week better.

We're thinking February 2012.

(But we have high hopes for January -- wouldn't that be crazy?)

(AND to my dear friends who may have felt neglected lately, I sincerely apologize. I haven't been well.)

The Mystery of the Cut Finger

2011-08-10T22:25:00.000-05:00

I was downstairs on the computer, on the phone with Devin trying to work out his hotel reservations as he drove around Minneapolis hoping he wouldn't have to spend the night in his car.
My sister-in-law Rachel was upstairs, nursing baby Tabitha. My brother Dan was on the top floor in the bedroom laying down.
Hallie (3 yrs), Emily (2 yrs), and Hanna (1 yr) were entertaining themselves, for the most part.

I came up the stairs when I was done on the phone/computer with Devin and sat down on the couch to talk to Rachel. I was about to start in on how Devin had accidentally reserved a smoking room, and the hotel had no non-smoking available yadda yadda yadda, when my little niece Emily came over to me, her face puckered up and sad. "Finger hurt," she said to me, holding up her bloody index finger for evidence. I sprang to my feet midsentence, picked her up and rushed her to the bathroom so I could wash the blood off and see how deep the cut was.

Having washed the cut, I applied pressure to stop the bleeding so I could put a princess bandaid on her poor little finger. As I did this, I tried to figure out what had happened. "Emily, how did you hurt your finger?"
"Right there," she said, pointing to the spot where I held the toilet paper pressed down. "But how did this happen?" I tried again.
"Finger hurts. Finger hurts," she repeated. Realizing that I wasn't going to get much more information than this, I put the bandaid on and went back out to survey the scene, and try to figure out for myself how she had cut her finger.
We had played with paper and scissors earlier, but I had been very careful to pick up all the scissors again. I double checked, but there were no scissors in sight. I looked at the kitchen table and felt my stomach sink. There was a very sharp knife still sitting on the table from when we had been cutting some cheese earlier. Why didn't I put that away? "Did you get the knife, Emily?" I asked her. "Finger hurt," she said to me, frowning. I apologized to her mom for having left the knife out, and leaving it at that we went upstairs to get ready for bed.

At which time we realized that Emily also had a cut on the same hand, on her thumb. I went back downstairs to get another bandaid, and looked closely at the knife while I was there. No blood anywhere. On the knife, the chair, the table, no sign of blood. She had been bleeding enough that there should have been blood. I put the knife in the sink and went back upstairs. "It couldn't have been the knife, it was clean, and how would it have cut her index finger and her thumb?" I said to Rachel, completely perplexed and feeling bad that her child had hurt herself. I sat and pondered as the girls put on their pajamas.

I suddenly remembered a sharp pair of sewing scissors that I have whose blades overlap a little, and that had given Hanna a nasty cut once a few months ago. I explained this theory to Rachel, and she said that was likely it. Emily is a bit of a climber, and certainly could have gotten ahold of my scissors. So, we put this theory to Emily. "Emily, did you get the scissors?" "Scissors, yes finger hurt," she said, and we breathed a sigh of relief. We had found the culprit, and while I felt bad that she had hurt herself on my scissors at least I could put them away on a higher surface and no one would get hurt anymore. But just as I was settling in to my relief, Hallie piped up. "It was the pumpkin," She said. "Pumpkin?" I asked, incredulous. Why was Hallie talking about pumpkins? "Emily hurt herself on the pumpkin," Hallie said, looking at me with sincerity in her face. I had no idea how to respond to this, how could you hurt yourself on a pumpkin? I dismissed her statement and finished reading her stories.

Once the girls were in bed I went to investigate the table where my sewing was laying out. Unfortunately for my investigation, the scissors were hidden underneath a pile of fabric, paper, and assorted other things and none of that stuff had any blood on it either. I racked my brain trying to come up with the solution. Something in my house was hurting babies, and I had to find it. I looked around again for a lone pair of scissors, or a different knife. Nothing. I could see nothing that was sharp. Sighing, I went upstairs to go to bed myself.

The next morning we were setting out breakfast, and I noticed the bright orange pumpkin sitting on the counter. I had picked it from our garden the week previously, and I was so pleased with its cheerful autumn self. Hallie caught me looking at it and said, "Emily hurt on the pumpkin." Hallie seemed so insistent on this idea that I looked more closely at the pumpkin. Now, I don't know if it is all pumpkins or just the variety that we grow in our backyard, but they have some vicious thorns on their stems. These thorns remain when you pull the pumpkin off the vine. Not to mention that the stem is just about the width of little Emily's hand, fitting snugly just about where her index finger and thumb would wrap.

And so, based on the expert testimony of one Hallie Rose, and the evidence of the thorns on the pumpkin, in addition to the width of the stem and the positioning of the cuts on Emily's hand, I had to conclude that she had tried to lift the pumpkin by the stem in one hand, and had cut herself in the process. Certainly the best theory we had so far.

Except for one thing. There was no blood anywhere on the pumpkin, counter, or on the chair she had used to climb, either. I'd like to send this in to "Unsolved Mysteries" and let them have a crack at it.

Farmer Tan

2011-08-07T10:50:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was Saturday. This means that Devin and I (and my brother and his wife, because they are visiting us, and visitors are not spared - ask anyone who has visited us over a Saturday, they'll tell you tales) spent hours in the yard, trying to tame the wilderness that disgruntles our neighbors.

Usually I put on sunscreen, because as most people know, hours in the sun cause sunburns, and repeated sunburns can cause skin cancer. I am hoping to avoid this, and so we lather up the girls and ourselves before heading outside. Now, to be clear and honest, usually when I lather up I put the screen on my face and arms. I leave my legs alone, because those poor things never really see the light of day, and when they do in my cut-off-yard-working jeans I like them to catch a few rays. Not that I've ever seen any evidence of them catching any at all, but hope dies hard and I just keep trying. Yesterday was no exception, my legs were completely screen free, ready to take in any and all rays the sun sent their way.

Once we felt satisfied with our work yesterday, we came in to take showers and get ready to go get some ice cream. Hard work should be rewarded, don't you think? My turn in the shower came last, and as I looked down at my legs, I noticed a DISTINCT color difference on the skin of my calves, between my feet, where my socks had been, and my thighs, as my shorts had gone, of course, to my knees. Colored skin can only mean one thing, my legs had finally caught up to to the color on my arms, which is not to say, strictly speaking, a tan, but something a shade darker than the glow-in-the-dark color I had been sporting on my legs.

Upon closer inspection however, I came to the sad realization that it was just a fine coating of dirt. When it all came off in the shower I knew for sure. There was no real tan here. Thus, I nominate a second definition for the term "farmer tan". Farmer tan: noun, a coloring of the skin resembling a tan caused by a fine layer of dirt resulting from a day of hard work in the yard.

Anyone to second my nomination?

Long Enough

2011-08-05T22:11:00.000-05:00

It has been hot. And I have been tired. These are my two excuses for staying away from my blog for so long. But I can resist no longer, even though with the heat sucking all my energy away I have none left to write anything witty or creative or even interesting. So I leave you with this picture, and the charge to come up with something fantastic to say about it yourselves, if you would like. Otherwise, just enjoy the moments. That's what I did.

Hallie is reading the complete works of Jane Austen, Hanna is reading the last installment of the Harry Potter series. These ladies know how to pick 'em. (Was that witty? Creative? Cute?)

Don't forget to take us!

(This one, not so witty or creative right? Totally lame? Oh well.)

Let it Go

2011-07-16T20:53:00.000-05:00

I have a tendency to have pretty high standards for what I will let the girls out of the house wearing. I never knew myself for a control freak, but I see now that I kind of am. I'm talking their clothes have to be matching, down to the socks, their hair has to be combed, and preferably Hallie's will be in a braid.

But you know what? Maybe this is a lesson you all learned long ago. Sometimes, (prepare yourself) there are things in life that I can't control. I'm just guessing that its the same way for you. And in those times, I've decided, its best to let it go. Let it GO man.

Just in case you need to learn this lesson, too.

Another life lesson learned on this occasion: The Culver's butterburger is INDEED delicious. Indeed.

A Letter to Nicole

2011-07-11T22:55:00.000-05:00

Dear Nicole -
Would you like to hear about my trip to Moab for the Rose Family Reunion? It was a near perfect vacation, except for one small thing. You weren't there. You're probably wondering why you should have been there. A fair question, since you aren't a member of the Rose family.

When we drove into Colorado Devin and I were playing a game called, "How far away is that structure, or landmark?" And then we'd watch on the odometer until we went past it to see how far away the farthest thing we could see was. (The farthest we got was 14 miles or so.) As we played and marveled at the distance we could see across the landscape, Devin said, "Yeah, but really the farthest we can see are those mountains." And I said, "We can't see any mountains yet." And Devin said, "Yeah we can, they are right there." Now, in my defense, I was driving, so my focus was really mainly on the road, not the horizon. As he said that though, I looked to see what he saw, and at first all I saw was land met by endless blue sky. But suddenly, like one of those 3D pictures, the mountains popped out at me, and I could no longer focus so well on the road, as my gaze kept being redirected back to that first incredible view of the mountains. I wished you were there.

As we drove further into Colorado we kept seeing signs for Greeley and Estes Park. I wished you were there. How can I drive through Colorado without you?

When we got to Moab we went on some hikes, climbing up the rocky mountainside. It was strenuous, and beautiful, and the view was breathtaking. I wished you were there. Who else jumps and dances while hiking?

We had sandwiches every day for lunch. I will have you know that I am a reformed peanut butter spreader. The memory of you sitting so patiently impatient as I made my sandwiches those long ago summer days made me smile as I prepared lunch for Hallie and Hanna, and I wished you were there. You would be so proud at the speed with which I can put together a pb and j these days.

We went swimming almost every day also. The girls like the water, but they really could have benefited from an experienced, personal swimming instructor who comes complete with Jiggly Puff impressions. I wished you were there. You still do Jiggly Puff, I hope...

We did swim in regular pools too, but here are the girls with Grandma in the Colorado River.

On the way home we stayed with Melissa's in-laws. It was so nice to stop for the night, and to have a real home to stay in complete with delicious dinner and breakfast. Obviously the best part was getting to see Melissa and meet her little boys (how did I not get a picture?) The only problem was I just kept feeling like we should have been in a barn, just blocks away from the ocean, with Al, Mimi, and Toby, Old Soakers and ice cream. Obviously, I so wished you were there. Reunion someday?

Well, all in all it was a fantastic vacation. All I'm saying is that maybe next time I can pack you in my suitcase? Or there's always plan B. I have two girls, you have two boys, surely we can get a match in there somewhere. Do you want to see more pictures of some hikes?

At the top of our hike. For a little perspective, that's our car.

Devin and his brothers at Delicate Arch. Yes, the famous one on the Utah license plates.

This picture was an accident. AND I love it.

Thanks for a wonderful vacation, Rose family. It was just what we needed. Can Nicole come next time?

Marlboro Man Revisited

2011-07-01T22:17:00.000-05:00

(Please excuse this brief departure from my regularly scheduled posts about THE TREK.)

Today in my mailbox I had not only a large envelope letter from the Marlboro Man people, I also had a box package. What are they thinking? I wondered. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, check out this post.)

Well, after I wrote about the series of letters and packages that they had been sending me some of you left comments saying that you couldn't believe I hadn't opened any of them, and that you wanted to know what was inside. So, even though I felt a little strange opening it, I did it for you. And so, without further ado, if you are still curious what the Marlboro Man people are sending me, read on.

The large envelope contained a chance to enter a drawing to win a large LED flashlight, and 1000 dollars. It also had one coupon, and a large foldout brochure inviting me to join one of their ten "Preserve the Land" projects. My favorite of these included the "Preserving Dakota's Wild Mustangs" project, and the "Protecting Birds of Prey" project. The others were all about land preservation, restoration, and clearing and upgrading various land projects. Strange. BUT like I said, I might be tempted to be involved with the first two projects, as long as I didn't have to smoke...

Now, don't get too excited. This was not the largest box they have sent me, this was a small to medium sized one. But let's open it. Believe it or not. BELIEVE IT OR NOT, it was a birthday present. Seriously. I kid you not. The box says, "May the trails always twist in your favor, May the tales always end in good light, May you have more friends than one campfire can hold, and May they all be with you tonight. HAPPY BIRTHDAY." First, three small screws fell out. Then I lifted the flap and inside was an awkwardly shaped piece of metal. I showed it to Devin and he said, "Who do they think you are?"

I have no idea who they think I am, but somehow they know my birthday and they seem to think that I am a smoker, and a beer drinker because we finally figured out what that oddly shaped piece of metal is, and what the three screws are for. It is a bottle opener, typically used for beer, I would imagine, and you screw it onto your wall. How convenient. If you drank beer. Which, along with smoking, I do not do.

It does make me more curious than ever what was in my big package though. Because come to think of it, I think that one came near my birthday too. Oh well.

When I get back from a small vacation I will return to my regularly scheduled posts about THE TREK.

Animals on the Trek

2011-06-29T10:56:00.001-05:00

We spent the first night of the trek at a farm. The people who owned the farm were gracious enough to let 100 people invade their property, put up tents, and make a general raucous. As I walked down their long driveway to where we were congregated, I couldn't help but notice some of their animals. I particularly like goats, ever since living in the Netherlands.

I spent some time sitting with the goats. I liked those animals at the farm. The animal I did not like was the rooster, and I think I could be happy for the rest of my life if I never hear a rooster again.

You know I always thought that roosters crow in the morning, to celebrate the coming of the sun. Our schedule said to get up at 5:55 am, eat breakfast, take down our tents, repack our handcarts with whatever we had used for the night, and then begin walking. So when the rooster crowed the first time, even though it was clearly still completely dark outside, I thought that meant it was only a matter of time before I had to get up, and even though I felt exhausted I began preparing myself mentally. You'll have to get up soon, and be cheerful. You can do it." But no one else was stirring, so I fell back asleep. For about half an hour, when the rooster crowed again. And so it went, him crowing, me thinking I had to get up soon, falling back asleep, and then him crowing again. Until I finally started to go a little crazy and checked the time. It was 4:00 in the morning. I think he had started crowing sometime after 2 am. And continued. all. night. long. The rooster may easily be my least favorite animal.

Or wait, that may be coyotes. Before the rooster started crowing, when I still thought I might get a good nights' sleep, I lay there with my head snug on my pillow and began drifting off into the peaceful world of slumber when my quiet was shattered by something eerie and bonechilling. Have you ever heard coyotes at night? It is not the beautifully haunting sound of wolves you might be imagining. It sounds wild and fierce and makes you want to cry a little at your own vulnerability. We heard them both nights and nothing on the trek was as horrible as the sound they made at night.

One of the boys on the trek wandered off the trail, and near into some farmers' farmland. I scolded him to get back on the road, and he said, "but don't you hear it?" so I stopped and listened, and there was the tiniest, faintest, pitifullest meowing you ever heard. He continued toward it and out of the bushes came the sweetest, prettiest, tiniest little Calico cat imaginable. Some of my girls later somehow captured it and one of them swore she was going to take it home for a pet. She was fairly warned that it was a wild cat, probably had worms, and would need a lot of care for being so young. We saw some other wild cats on our trip, but none so young or sweet as that one.

There were a few horses on the trek as well, for the trail guide to ride, and for other various reasons. At one point the horse and rider came up alongside me, and I continued walking not worrying too much about the large beast at my side, until he slowly began edging me off the road. That was a moment of excitement until the rider noticed and began edging him away from me again.

AND while I don't think I got any mosquito bites, I got some sort of tiny little bites all around my ankles. Chiggers? I pray not, but what else could it be?

Tune in soon to hear about more of my trek experience.

What I Just Did

2011-06-29T10:43:00.001-05:00

I just went on a Pioneer Reenactment Trek. It was a youth conference for the youth in my church, ages 14 to 18 to have an opportunity to experience some of what it was like for the Pioneers who walked across the country from Illinois to Utah. The plan for our trek was to go to Winter Quarters Temple, Visitor Center, and cemetery the first day, get our handcarts ready, camp, then begin pulling early the next morning. The first day we were to walk 15 miles, and 10 the second. That was the plan. That's what I did last week.

I wanted to record some of the experiences while they are still fresh in my memory, and I kept thinking I would write it in my actual journal - but let's face it, now that I'm used to typing on a keyboard, writing things out by hand just feels tiring. Call me lazy, but I walked 15 miles last week, so whatever.

I wasn't sure at first how to organize my thoughts and feelings about the trek, but after some consideration I have decided to write about it topically. So I believe I will have a post for: animals, weather, food, pain, clothing, and maybe some others that I haven't thought of yet, but that's probably it.

Simple Brown Carpet.

2011-06-22T22:13:00.000-05:00

I knew when Devin told me he had a conference in Indianapolis that I was going to make him take me with him, and that I would make him go to Richmond to see my family there. Growing up we moved frequently, and my grandparent's house in Richmond always felt like a safe haven. We returned there year after year, sometimes staying an entire summer. It did not feel like vacation, it did not feel like a second home, it felt like the place I belonged most in the world. I had a library card to the local library.

But since this conference in Indy that Devin had, I had not been back there for two years. Not since my grandmother's funeral. On my agenda for this long awaited trip was to visit with my aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandpa, and to go out to the house where my grandpa and grandma lived. That house, in the place that owned my heart, was home base.

I thought I would be fine going over there, helping my grandpa sort through odds and ends, and just wandering through memories. I drove, and as I drove I could feel myself in the backseat seeing the scenery fly by as I had as a child. Left turn on New Garden. Past the tiny church. Past the cemetary. Over the little bridge. Past the house where the man keeps kangaroos. Left turn. Check mailbox after mailbox until! The big blue house appears, surrounded by what must have been countless hours of labor in a yard full of love. I was fine through all of that.

I got out of the car, and looked around. I saw where my grandpa had built the trolley. I saw the pond that used to have ducks. I saw the front pasture and the back pasture where I used to ride with my grandpa on the riding mower. I saw the garden where I used to sit, weeding in the sun, trying desperately to think of an excuse to go help grandma in the kitchen instead. I saw the place where the swing set was, and the trampoline. I saw the old barn where we had to go to the bathroom one summer when we had overloaded the toilets. I was fine through all of that.

We walked to the door, and the first thing I saw as the door opened was the carpet. Simple brown carpet. And for a while, as my eyes teared over, that was the last thing I could see. Why carpet? Of all things that held memories in this place, why the silly brown carpet?

That brown carpet holds the memories of countless dreams as I napped on it while my cousins raced cars and played cards around me. It held the images of a thousand movies watched while lying on its floor, surrounded by family, munching popcorn as we smiled at the Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. That carpet held my knees for a thousand family prayers, after which I would get up and kiss my grandma on the cheek, and give my grandpa a big hug.

I think what hit me hardest about the carpet though, was its very stability. It's consistency, its constant just being thereness. The duck pond came and went, the trampoline wasn't up every year, I seldom actually went in the barn, and there was always some new adventure to be had at Grandma and Grandpa's. But that carpet, it never changed. And in my childhood, and into my teenage years, when I was uncertain who I was or where I belonged, when I sat on that carpet I knew exactly who I was, and I loved being exactly where I was.

Thank you Grandma, for those perfect childhood summers, for your simple brown carpet, for always loving me. I am glad that I know exactly where you are, and I can meet you there someday. What I would like to know is do they have brown carpets in heaven?

One Of These.

2011-06-20T20:28:00.002-05:00

I so want one of these.

A nap, that is.

AND a love sack.

AND (not pictured) a brownie.

Requisite Father Post.

2011-06-19T20:36:00.001-05:00

I have known

three fathers

in my life.

The father of my youth

watched me grow

and taught me to value truth.

I am older now

and so, I suppose, is he.

I see my baby sitting on his knee.

The Father of my soul

watches me grow

He knows that

returning to live with Him

is my Earthly goal.

The father of my babies

is the man I chose.

He’ll teach them about God

and about honesty,

and that is why I love

my Mr. Rose.

Head Over Heels

2011-06-08T08:10:00.007-05:00

Back in September I wrote a post about how I had fallen in love with this guy. Over Memorial Day Weekend I finally got to meet him!

I took his picture in an effort to preserve the special moment forever.

I think the ONLY thing that is clear here is that I have a long way to go before I can use photography as a means of preserving memories. Apparently it is not one of my natural talents. You'll just have to take my word for it then that the moment was magical, and that he is a definite cutie.

Oh, but you know what, there is one fly in my ointment. The one small kink in my plan to marry him off to Hanna and reign forevermore as MOTHER IN LAW is this little princess. (That's Kristy's sister Kelly's baby.) She's a worthy contender, which you would be able to tell if I could take a picture that wasn't blurry.

Hm Hmm Good

2011-06-06T07:52:00.004-05:00

Hanna loves chocolate pudding. Hallie loves to laugh at the chocolate mess on Hanna's face. I didn't have the heart to break it to Hallie.

But I do love the irony, ya know?

Saying Goodbye

2011-06-05T19:50:00.000-05:00

Do you know how hard it is to say goodbye to these faces?

But how can you help yourself when it's been two and a half years since you've seen THESE faces?

It was so good to see you guys!

And thanks to good friends in Lincoln who made it possible for me to leave...

Bellies

2011-06-04T00:20:00.000-05:00

When Hallie was just a baby I was often panicked about whether or not I was a good parent, and if I would be a good parent as she got older and the parenting issues became more complicated and with longer lasting implications.

My heart fell into my feet yesterday, and I stared at Hallie willing myself not to cry, not to overreact, but to think the moment through slowly and figure out an appropriate response as she stood there and stared at me, perhaps not realizing the bombshell she had just dropped on me.

She's just over three years old. We were getting ready to go to the lake to play with some friends we were meeting there. She was so excited, and had been running around the house all morning practicing swimming like a turtle. She even taught Hanna how to do it. I got out their swimsuits and put them on, because I wanted to make sure that we had suits that fit, this being the first time we've gone swimming this season. Hallie was bouncing off the walls full of exuberant toddler energy. Satisfied that the suits fit well, I left to go take care of other things, packing towels and sunblock and a picnic lunch. She's just over three years old. Did I already say that?

Hallie found me, and had a sad look on her face. "I need a new swimsuit." She told me. "Why?" I asked her. "Because this one makes my belly look big."

I just stared at her. Does she mean that? Does she know what she is saying, or is she just parroting something she has heard other people say? (Me? Have I said that?) I took a deep breath, told myself to relax, and said, "Hallie, your tummy is beautiful."

"No, mommy. This swimsuit makes it look too big. I need a new one." She said, as she compulsively ran her hands up and down her precious toddler belly. Again, I just stared at her. What is the appropriate response here? Part of me was sort of glad that we were having this conversation when she was three, because if she had been thirteen I have a feeling she would have been talking about it to her girlfriends and not to me, and what would they say? It scares me...

I said, "Hallie, I think that your tummy is perfect. I think it is beautiful, and I think... I think... I think I am going to have to put some kisses on it now." And I leaned in and blew raspberries and kisses all over it, tickling and hugging her at the same time. It worked of course, and she was off like a rocket, giggling and squealing. But she came back a minute later. "Is your tummy big, Mommy?" I looked down at mine. Sure it was bigger than I wished it was. But I thought about the response I had given her about her tummy, and it made me think of what my mom would say to me if she were here. 'Your tummy is perfect. I think it is beautiful." So I was being honest when I told her that I thought my tummy looked just fine. And I'm going to try really, really hard to remember that when I look in the mirror. For her sake, and mine.

And part of me still worries, and wonders. Was that the correct response? Should I have done differently? What will I do if/when she faces these worries again later, when she might really mean it?

Story of a Couch

2011-05-27T23:00:00.000-05:00

Sit down and get comfy. I'm going to tell you the story of our couch.

It started out life in the Runyon home, in Illinois. When one of the fair daughters left home to seek her fortune in the world, the couch made its way to Indiana, where it reigned supreme for two years. That is when I gained possession of it, and how it came to be in Nebraska.

This is no ordinary couch. It is a keeper of dreams, the proud sponsor of a million and two naps. It is the hostess with the mostest, providing comfort to many overnight guest who have slumbered on its cushions. It is a healer of childhood ailments - it has seen it all, the digested and undigested, and with the aid of baking soda has born it well. It is a storyteller, if couches could talk, it would tell a tale of keeping me anchored to the real world as I have spent hours lost in literature. It is the birthplace of romance, the place of my last first kiss.

And while I do look forward to the day when it isn't the only piece of furniture in my home, I will also be a little sad. It will truly be the end of an era, the end of something a little magical.

Round Two

2011-05-26T23:00:00.000-05:00

Dear Mom and Dad,

How are you? How is the weather in Michigan? We have had nice weather during the day, and stormy nights. The roads are quite dry during the day when I am driving around, so that's nice. And the rain at night waters all my plants and yard, so I don't have to, and that's nice.

Speaking of my yard, there are a few new things in bloom and I thought you might want to take a peek. Thanks so much for all the help you give us when you come visit. It is invaluable.

This little guy came as a surprise. I didn't remember him at all from last year. He is to the left of the garage in that tiny little area in the front yard.

This is the columbine that popped up all over that Mom encouraged me to save. It is a bright spot of color all over the yard.

We had fresh chives on our dinner the other night. Yum.

This is the iris in the sunken garden, I thought Dad would want to see this.

These are the irises that are by that tree that is center in the backyard.

This is the rhododendron by the 'playhouse'.

Tiny things are popping up in our garden! Get ready...

I think I was told last year that these are peonies?

And look! One of my rose bushes is blooming. Hello pretty!

And this is that flower on the mound that I asked you if it was dianthus, I know it isn't but for some reason that's what I kept thinking it was. Anyway, it has bloomed now. Do you know what it is?

And I tried to take a picture of Hanna. Maybe next time.

Love you, have a great weekend. Amy

Fun to Do

2011-05-24T23:42:00.000-05:00

Going to the zoo is fun to do!

Devin is a pro-picnic packer.

Popularity is a funny thing.

With goats, it is directly proportional to how much food you have in your hand.

Hanna is obsessed with penguins.

Hallie wouldn't get on this giant thing until Hanna did.

Hallie smiles for the camera.

And I figure

if I just keep smiling

we might get a good picture.

Train Ride!

Correction

2011-05-24T13:16:00.000-05:00

I'd like to make a slight correction to a blog post I wrote a few weeks ago. In it I stated that a woman spends at least 90% of her time waiting. Now, as I stated in that post the algorithm used to come to that statistic was based more on emotion rather than logic, but this correction is based solely on factual information. Namely, the pain in my feet and back.

See they are forcing me to reconsider that statistic, and reminding me that there is something that I spend considerable amount of my time doing. When I am not waiting for something to happen, I am moving things from one place to another.

You know, moving the food from the grocery cart to the car to the cupboards and fridge to the stove to the table, and then back to the fridge.

Moving the clothes from the rack to the car to a closet to a body to the hamper (floor) to the washing machine to the dryer to the hamper (floor) to the closet.

Moving toys from here, from there, from everywhere, back to where they started.

Moving tiny bodies from this place to that place and back again.

So, to amend my previous statement I'd like to have it now go on record that I think women spend 50% of their time waiting, and 50% of their time moving things around.

What do you feel like you spend all your time doing?

Sharp Dressed Man

2011-05-22T22:42:00.000-05:00

Look, here's the deal Daniel. I finally finished these for you. They will be in the mail first thing tomorrow. First thing around here means as soon as I get everything else done that I have to do so the three of us can walk out the door. Sometimes that doesn't happen until first thing Tuesday. Get the picture?

But look here's the deal. I started trying to make these for you a few weeks ago, but I hit some serious snags with the one on the left.

So look here's the deal. You're gonna be a sharp dressed man when you wear these, but the thing is you might have grown out of them by now, seeing as how you are a baby and that's what you do best.

Listen up now, cuz here's the deal. You need to keep eating, so your mom stays calm and doesn't know what is up, but try really hard to not use any of those calories to grow, ok? Put them all towards, you know, like getting smarter, and growing out your fingernails. Just don't get any taller, and don't get any wider. At least until your mom gets this package in the mailbox, which is gonna happen as soon as possible (see above), and then you can start growing again, what do you say?

Is it a deal?

But seriously, I think you've already grown out of them. So just tell your mom to give them to... some tiny baby she knows.

LOVE YOU.

Barbecue Sauce

2011-05-15T21:41:00.000-05:00

I guess I always liked barbecue sauce as much as the next person that has casually dipped a French fry. I never craved it, or particularly sought it out, but if it was available I would certainly enjoy eating it.

When I first met Devin I had the impression that he would eat anything. He was in the habit of cooking something to eat for dinner, and then eating the leftovers for lunch the next day. When we started dating I would sometimes eat lunch with him and I would see these leftovers, and I was always impressed with the variety of his meals. One day I remember he was eating something that didn't look particularly appetizing to me, and I expressed some admiration that he liked so many different foods. He looked at me and said, "Well, I don't really like this." And I, in some surprise, said, "Oh. Um, why are you eating it then?" And in humble sincerity he said, "Because it's what I cooked last night." This is what cemented in my mind the idea that Devin would eat anything put in front of him.

Boy, was I wrong. Take barbecue sauce for instance. I don't know how long we had been dating before I discovered his aversion to barbecue sauce. I shrugged it off as merely interesting, and went on with my life. It was not a deal breaker because, as I previously mentioned, I have no deep love affair with the sauce myself.

Then we got married. And Devin still never wanted barbecue sauce, and I didn't think about it much, at first. But as we were walking past the barbecue sauce selection at the grocery store yesterday, all the years of pent up, subconsciously hidden longings boiled over and I suddenly lashed out. "Don't you think it's time you tried barbecue sauce again? Maybe you'd like it now. You haven't had it in years." So, sweet sweet man that he is he let me pick out a bottle of barbecue sauce. I stood in the aisle for a long time deliberating my brand and flavor style. This would be my first barbecue sauce in years, the one that would sway Devin, and be my daughters introduction to a whole new world of flavor, so I had to be careful. Did you know that some have coffee listed as an ingredient? That one went back on the shelf in a hurry, don't you worry.

That evening Devin had to go in to the church to get some clerk-y stuff done. As he was leaving he said, "It would be nice if you could have dinner ready when I got back." I was desperate to make something with my new barbecue sauce. So I looked up recipe after recipe trying to find something that would make him fall in love with this delicious All-American sauce. And I think my brain must have been flying at only half mast or something because I settled on making barbecue meatloaf, and mashed potatoes with barbecue sauce gravy. This meal plan was problematic for several reasons.
a. Another food that I discovered after marriage that Devin does not particularly like is meatloaf.
b. He does not particularly like mashed potatoes and gravy, either.
c. Devin thought eating barbecue sauce (albeit gravy) on potatoes was incredibly strange.

So basically I was trying to get Devin to like an ingredient by cooking two food items he doesn't like to begin with, and combining them with other ingredients that he thought was strange. I was off to a great start.

As it turned out, the mashed potatoes and gravy were a big hit. I loved them, he loved them, the babies loved them. Way to go Amy. The meatloaf? Well it's hard to say exactly what went wrong there. I tried to sum it up after the meal, "It's strange. It has so little flavor, that I think if you were to eat it with a blind fold on you wouldn't even know that you were eating anything."
Devin summed it up this way, "It has so little flavor, you wouldn't even be able to remember what you had eaten just before the meatloaf."

Hard Work

2011-05-13T23:13:00.000-05:00

Don't we make hard work look so

well, I couldn't think of a clever word. But we do it. Hard work that is. However we make it look. Even when we're tired. Which I am right now. Because I need to go to bed. So I can sleep. To have the energy I'll need to work. Hard. Tomorrow.
Oy.

Love It.

2011-05-10T11:17:00.000-05:00

I love my parents. I love nachos. I love ice cream. I love Peoria. I love Theo's.

If you ever find yourself in Peoria, IL make sure to find time to stop at a little place called Theo's. You'll be so happy you did.

Thanks.

2011-05-09T22:36:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I get so disheartened by the news, and stories I hear, and the angry faces people make as they drive around in their cars. I worry about Hallie and Hanna playing in the front yard; who is driving past, and what kind of thoughts do they have as they see my babies running and jumping? I stress about people they may or may not meet in the future, bullies, drama queens, mean teachers. What will the older kids that sit in the back of the bus say to them, too low for the bus driver to hear? Sometimes I get a little overwhelmed with this flood of worrying about the people they will meet in their lives, and knowing that I have absolutely no control over how any of those people will treat them.

And then, then something always happens that restores my faith in the human race. When I am at the peak of my anxiety doldrums, someone somewhere always steps up and reminds me that most of the people in this world are good people.

In my mailbox today, shining in the sun, was a white, square package. My heart leaped (leapt?) (was leaping?) within me. I love white square packages in my mailbox. (Except when they are from Marlboro). And I just knew that it was from my friend Heather, and I knew that it had baked goodies inside.

You probably don't know my friend Heather, so let me tell you about her. Heather is curly hair. She is soccer practice and marching band. She is Logansport, Indiana. She is a restaurant I will never eat at called the Happy Buddha. She is the bravely noble Fighting Pickles. She is a musician, and a finder and sharer of great music. She is baked goodies in a white square package for no reason other than because she likes to bake, and I sent her a message on facebook saying "please". Did I say please Heather? I hope so.

Anyway, this is me saying thanks. Thank you Heather. And thank you to all the good people, and the mostly good people, and the sometimes good people, and the want to be good people, and the considering being good people.

On behalf of my daughters, and the joy of eating baked goodies, Thank You.

Chicken Soup for the Soul

2011-04-26T08:47:00.000-05:00

I think I have every one of those chicken soup for the soul books. I certainly have books one, two, three and four. I also have chicken soup for the pet lover's soul. I even bought myself Chicken Soup for the Golden Soul, and didn't figure it out until halfway through what Golden** meant. I think that one is one of my favorites though.

We got to have Devin's parents here for a few days last week, and as I watched them with the girls it seems to me that grandparents are chocolate chip cookies for the soul.

And they are great for helping with yard work.

**Apparently a Golden soul is a soul that occupies a body that has lived on this earth for 65 years or longer. (According to the chicken soup people.)

Translations

2011-04-24T20:46:00.000-05:00

I love what spring says to me.

And just in case you aren't sure what it is saying, I will translate for you.

Don't give up.

It's never too late.

It will be ok.

You can do it!

Don't worry.

Life is good.

Try, try again.

Peace, be still.

I hope you had a nice Easter. If you want some good Easter reading, these are my favorite two things to read at Easter. Favorite One. Favorite Two. Enjoy.

Free Mani/Pedi!

2011-04-22T23:08:00.000-05:00

From time to time we all need a quick pick me-up. A little personal renovation. Some color to brighten our lives. Are you in need of a free pedicure and manicure? If so, you have come to the right place! I am here to offer you a free manicure and pedicure! I can only give away a limited amount of manicures and pedicures for free (one), so don't delay! There are two ways to win this incredible offer:

1. You can call this toll-free number: 1-800-Hallie (please don't call this number. It is not a real number, and if it is it probably does not deal in manicures and pedicures.)
2. You can leave a comment right here on this very blog and Hallie will choose one winner for her free manicure/pedicure.

Frequently Asked Questions:

Do I get to pick my own color? It is highly unlikely that you will be allowed to pick your own color. The stylist is stubborn, and independent. It will be easiest on all involved if you let her choose the color. Thank you for your cooperation.
Do I have to be local to win the free manicure and pedicure? Absolutely not! Hallie is willing to have you travel here to Lincoln NE, where she will even give you a place to sleep if you can't make the return trip the same day.
Will I look like an extra for a horror movie when she is done? If the comments from my husband can be trusted, yes, you will look like an extra from a horror movie.

Good luck, I hope you win the free manicure!!! The offer for this FREE manicure/pedicure closes on April 25, 2011 at the stroke of seven (Hallie is in bed by eight, you know). We'll let you know who the winner is the following day. Thank you!

Popcorn

2011-04-20T20:15:00.000-05:00

I looked out my window and what did I see?

Popcorn popping!

I truly never understood the reference in this song until this spring. (I don't know how I missed it last year, given that every house on our street has one of these trees in their front yard, but I'll blame it on the boxes I was unpacking.)

That's my friend Megan driving down the street.

Hi Megan!

Cowgirl

2011-04-19T18:04:00.000-05:00

To be quite honest, I don't mind if my girls grow up to be princesses, or cowgirls. I like both kinds of head-wear.

Yes, Please

2011-04-18T13:47:00.000-05:00

Treat, anyone?

Don't mind if I do.

Waiting

2011-04-16T16:10:00.000-05:00

I decided yesterday that women spend at least 90% of their lives waiting. (The algorithm used to come to this statistic is more an equation of emotional, rather than mathematical origin.)

As children we wait for the things that all children do:

We wait for summertime to come so we can go swimming.
We wait for winter to come so we can go sledding, and Christmas!
We wait for Halloween so we can go trick or treating.
We wait for the Fourth of July so we can watch the fireworks.

But as women we really set ourselves apart in the waiting department when we grow up.
We wait for someone to ask us out on our first date.
We wait for someone to ask us out again.
We wait for someone to ask us to marry them.
We wait nine months (or much, much, much, much longer) to have children.
We wait for husbands to come home from work.
We wait at our doctor's appointments, and those of our children.
We wait while our children try to figure out how to make a number two on the potty.
We wait for the bread to rise.
We wait for the water to boil.
We wait for the flowers in our yard to bloom.
We wait for the mail to come.

We wait and we wait and we wait.

Bruises and a Picture

2011-04-13T09:58:00.000-05:00

But don't worry, it's not a picture of the bruises.

We were at the library, oh, a month and a half ago? First thing we always do is return the stack of books that we have read, in preparation for taking home another stack of books. There are always a handful of Clifford books, the odd assortment of books for me, and maybe a Clifford DVD or two. Hallie likes to help. I put the books on the little shelf next to the drop box, lift her up high so she can reach, and then she slowly, one by one, drops each book into the box.

Hanna wanders all around the library, touching people, touching books, eating things off the floor, and all I can do is watch while Hallie takes her sweet time. I think the librarians pretty much all know me by this point, and the children's librarian in particular loves Hanna, and it is a mutual thing. But I keep a close eye on her just in case she does something that I would have to respond to.

So my attention is always divided between making sure Hallie is continuing on with her job (she is easily distracted) and making sure that Hanna isn't getting too deep into anyone's personal space (she is easily lured into personal spaces). On this particularly fine afternoon, I was wearing flip flops and Hallie lost her grip on one 300 or more paged hardcover book. There is a law of gravity that dictates that heavy books when dropped by toddlers hovering just above their mother's feet that the book will land on its corner, on the delicate bone structure of the upper foot.

And, not one to defy the laws of gravity, this book did just that. I'm not sure what I yelled, I don't think it was coherent, but I can tell you that it was vaguely reminiscent of what I yelled just as Hallie was born into this world. Every single person in the library turned to stare at me in time to see me drop Hallie** and try not to cry.

Ever since, whenever I wear flip flops my left foot really hurts, and it took me a long time to connect it to the book dropping incident. A month and a half later the flip flops still hurt, and I'm wondering when this will heal.

On Saturday we went to a home improvement store, and Hanna was perched safely high up on the cart seat. She was playing with a small can of PVC pipe cement. Anything handy to keep them happy at the store on Saturday morning, know what I mean? I really should know better than to wear sandals by now, but crashing down onto my right foot was, you got it, the heavy can of PVC pipe cement. And for whatever reason it doesn't hurt when I wear flip flops, but tennis shoes are unbearable.

So thanks babies. Now flip flops and my sneakers are no longer options. How long will this go on? Shouldn't bruises heal eventually?

**I didn't really drop Hallie, but she was not put down as gently as she has become accustomed to, that's for certain.

And, as promised, a picture.

Grandpa and Bubbles waiting patiently for lunch.

Invisible

2011-04-11T21:02:00.000-05:00

Back when I wrote my post about BRAGGing, I was working on a baby blanket for my little nephew. I must admit that I have little knowledge and less experience with sewing in general, so most of my success at sewing in the past should be attributed to enthusiasm, a never-quit attitude, and having many people in my life who do know how to sew. AND just so you know that I am not dealing in false modesty here, last week I tried to make a surprise pair of pajama bottoms for Devin. What I got was yoga pants for me. Incredibly ugly yoga pants. It's not good.

That said, I wanted to make this blanket for my nephew and I thought it would be so simple. It was just one panel of fabric, that I would sew onto a length of brown fabric, bring the brown over the top to bind, and then quilt it somehow. I wasn't too worried about the details of the quilting part, in my typical gung-ho fashion I just went ahead and did the part I knew how to do and thought I'd figure out the other details later. By which I mean I'd show it to someone who knows how to do these kinds of things and have them give me suggestions for how to finish it.

So that's what I did. I sewed it up all nice and tight and then just had to figure out a way to quilt it. The top was mostly green and blue with jungle animals in the middle, and the bottom was brown. I didn't want to quilt it in squares or anything like that because of the animals, and I am not confident about free hand quilting on my machine. And that's how I ended up quilting it with invisible thread by hand. And that's why when it was done it was so hard to give it away. Have you ever made something by hand that you are ridiculously happy with, and then had to give it away?

If you don't know I love you by now little sis, there's nothing more I can do for you.

I put my initials and the year on, so that when it is displayed in a museum 100 years from now I will be famous. This is how I plan to live forever.

The animals on that blanket match the animals on this blanket. Am I too much, or am I too much?

List

2011-04-09T20:42:00.000-05:00

A 16 year old girl that I know has a list of 100 things that she wants to do before she dies. She has shared a few of the goals on her list with me, and it appears to be a truly fantastic and thorough list.

1. Sing with Justin Bieber
2. Organize a fundraiser.
3. Go skydiving.
4. Attend a movie premiere.

That's all I remember. But I started thinking what I would put on a list, if I were to make a list of things I want to do before I die. So, here goes. I don't think I'll ever get to 100 of them, but here are 10:

1. Write in this blog until dementia or paralysis sets in, or blogs become extinct, whichever comes first.
2. Bake cookies for Hallie and Hanna to have warm when they come home from school at least once a week.
3. Go to Hawaii with Devin.
4. Go on a mission with Devin.
5. Maintain an environment in my home that is welcoming, accepting, and comfortable.
6. Sew Hallie and/or Hanna an Easter dress.
7. If the Easter dress goes well, sew more.
8. Take Devin to the Amazon, and Hotel do Fraje? Frade? How was that place spelled?
9. Run a half-marathon.
10. Trippin' 06... in '16.

Do you have a list? Any suggestions for my list?

Blood and What I've Learned

2011-04-06T10:56:00.004-05:00

This is where Hallie drew on the wall with a ball point pen:

This is where Hallie drew on the wall with a crayon:

This is where Hanna drew on the wall with a dry erase marker:

This is the wall where I first noticed the blood:

And this is the floor where there was more blood:

And somehow she got more blood all over the fireplace:

And blood all over the bench:

What's that you say? There's no blood in these pictures? Oh, you are so clever.

When Hallie drew on the wall with the ink pen, I thought I should really call my mother and ask her how to get it out. When Hallie drew on the wall with crayon I thought again that I should talk with my mother. When Hanna drew with the dry erase marker I shrugged my shoulders and added it to my list. But when I saw the blood**, I leaped for the phone, and called my mother. "MOM! How do you get blood stains off of a wall?"

And, trusting that the people who read my blog have no intent to ever do bodily harm to another being and will not use the following knowledge to clean up their mess, I will tell you what I have learned, about children, the universe, and myself.

1. That little fingers with small injuries can bleed a lot.
2. That while she got blood all over four different types of surfaces, she somehow managed to avoid getting any on the carpet, even though she went halfway up the carpeted stairs, and all the way across a carpeted room - bleeding the entire time. I believe in miracles.
3. That cleaning my walls is only a priority if the mess involves blood.
4. That Hallie is always one toddler-proofing step ahead of me in height and cleverness.
4. That if the blood is fresh, it is no sweat to clean it up. Just a little hydrogen peroxide, one paper towel, and you are good to go.
5. That it is impossible to keep a bandaid on a toddler. I put one around her little cut, another on top of that, and then a third around her two fingers. She sucked them all off. At least by then the bleeding had stopped.
6. That moms are the best creatures ever. And by that I mean my mom, not myself. Although it occurs to me now that I will someday be "that mom" for my daughters. I better study up.

**First of course I checked to see where all the blood was coming from. When I discovered nothing but a tiny cut on her index finger, I washed it off, cleaned it up, put the aforementioned trio of bandaids on and THEN called my mother.

Walkin' On Sunshine

2011-04-04T08:25:00.002-05:00

Or on air, as the case may be.

Do you remember the first pair of shoes that you really fell in love with? The first shoes that I remember forming an emotional bond with were my Airwalks, in ninth grade. That's right. My brother had a pair, and so I had to have a pair. Call me Cool, cuz I so was. Not.

Anyway, you never forget that first love.

This baby knows how to rock her Airwalks. I guess she got that from her Uncle Pete.

Close Ups

2011-04-02T20:24:00.000-05:00

When my babies go for their close ups, they want it to be close.up.

I mean, how about that milk 'stache, eh?

The Missing Face

2011-03-20T22:28:00.000-05:00

I wrote this post a few days ago. It was very nice and sentimental. Devin looked at it when he got home from work that evening, and he said to me (paraphrasing, of course) "This is a very nice post, honey. But I notice that of all these pictures of people you love, I am not in any of them." So I said something clever like about how I wanted to put a picture of him on there, but the only picture we took while my family was here he would have hated and blah blah blah.

So I'm fixing that now. Because of course I love this face. Of course I want this face to be with me in heaven. This is the face that I would follow anywhere, to the Netherlands when I'm pregnant, or to the side of the Mississippi in Iowa, or to *gasp* Nebraska. This is the face that my babies stream around corners shouting and laughing to see every day at approximately 5:45. This is the face that I hope to watch grow old alongside me.

Well, that's that. Love you Mister.

AND I would like to point out that there are many, many people that I dearly love whose pictures were not represented on that post.

YAY!

2011-03-18T08:00:00.000-05:00

Baby let your hair hang down!

It's Friday!!

If Only

2011-03-16T14:19:00.000-05:00

If only my life were filled like this all the time, overflowing with people I love.

See those socks I'm wearing? My Stacy gave me those socks, and I wore them when Hallie was born, and I wore them when Hanna was born. I think it's safe to say that they are my favorite socks.

If I could have one wish it would be to pack my life with the people I love, all the time. I would bring in all grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, my brothers and their lovely, beautiful wives, my sister and her (some complimentary adjective) husband, and of course, my friends. I'd want friends from all parts of my life, those ones whose faces are a little blurry from having only seen them once or twice in the past decade, but whose names are like warm blankets, the memory of knowing that you were loved for the first time outside of your family.

When I was in fourth grade, and preparing to move again, I used to dream of a neighborhood full of the people I had known and loved up to that point in my life. I've since had this discussion with other friends of mine, how nice it would be to just congregate all in one place the people you hold dear and live out your lives feeling safe and secure.

And I truly can't believe it has taken me this long to figure it out, but it just now occurs to me that this is the appeal of heaven. And while I hope I have another strong sixty, seventy years down here, I'm happy knowing that someday this vision of mine will come true.

And, for no other reason than that it is just so funny, this is my niece Jill "closing her eyes." I'm not kidding. She thinks her eyes are closed. It makes me laugh every single time. It really never gets old. Never.

And this is Hallie, trying to mimic a face I had made earlier. Also never gets old. My sister told her this is what she should do if a boy tries to kiss her. Yikes.

Peas, a Dog, and Shallwe

2011-03-15T12:28:00.000-05:00

They're just three peas in a pod. And their dog.

I'm not sure which one thought to cover up the doggy, but I'm certain he appreciated it.

Thanks for coming to visit us, Jill Bean and Shallwe*! It was so good to see you. (In the swing Daniel is showing off the blanket I made him. That's blanket number one with invisible thread. Number two is still in the works.)

*We were all sitting at the dinner table. Daniel was fussing. My mother had finished eating, so she took Daniel from my sister and said, "Let's take a walk, shall we?" and Hallie looked up from her meal and said, "Do you call him Shallwe?" Hallie then continued to remind Grandma all week that she calls him "Shallwe". Isn't that a great story?