Sci-Fi Indoctrination
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Eric decided we should reward Jane (who took a nap!!!!??!?!!) today with watching a "family show" (.i.e. a show that doesn't annoy mom and dad), something she loves to do. Eric presented it as "the best family show ever" and Jane asked with a cocked eyebrow "Is it Star Wars??" Yes, my dear, it is. The time has finally come, according to Eric, for Jane to be exposed to that very special world.
Not the Post I was Wanting to Intend to Write
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It's about time that lame-o, sad sack, boo hoo post be replaced by something. And I've started a few online and in my head to replace it. I was sort of hoping for a small phoenix kind of moment, maybe not the whole bird, but maybe some glitter found in the ashes. I'm sure it's there, I have faith that it is, I just haven't found it yet. Or I'm too tired to give the ashes a good scouring. Or maybe there are still some embers burning and it's still too hot to go looking.
I do know that all healing takes time. Today in my lesson to the 12-13 year old young woman of our congregation, we went over the steps of repentance (a word I still misspell). As children, we were all just taught a handful of steps, all R words for remembrance sake. Today we went over 8, all from a conference address by Elder Hales, one of those was "Allow Time." I really wish I had learned that one in primary. I think there is sometimes this expectation that we can get up from our knees (or journal, or scriptures, or blog post) and have everything magically better. So, yeah, I need to give myself some time, continue to work through all this. But let's face it, I'm impatient.
I met up with an old friend at church today. This guy is someone my Dad loves to give me a hard time about. He didn't move in until high school, and he ended up being our valedictorian (hence the ribbing, since I was not) and we were both not only smart, but intellectuals, something very strange here. We were never terribly close, but I think we had a mutual respect for each other and we've kept tabs on each other and congratulated each on life as we've lived it. Anyway, he's at MIT, all but dissertation, already accepted a job in Seattle that will start next January. He has just the sweetest, beautiful, animated wife and two amazing girls, pretty close in age to mine. He asked what we were up to. And I told him honestly, without apology, without false optimism but not pessimism what we are up to. It sounded something like this:
Well, Eric graduated from law school last year and passed the bar last fall. And he's still looking for something more permanent and steady.
My friend knowingly responded how tough the legal market is right now, thank you Wall Street journal for putting that out there (%50 of Eric's class are not employed in a real, legal, full-time job 9 months post graduation), can I tell you the number of family and friends have, essentially asked me "did you know it was that bad??" Yep, I sort of had a clue! And then he asked what kind of law Eric wants to do. So we talked about that and how that influences things. And I kept my straight-forward, easy way of conversing until he asked:
So what about you?
THEN the hemming and hawing began. THEN there was the looking down and the hesitancy and the sudden mental rush of turning inward and grasping at straws.
and then he followed up with:
I'm still waiting for that book of yours.
Now, there is no "The" or "that" book. Just that my identity for so long was bound up in words. I was definitely an English nut, romanced by nearly everything I read in Mrs. Kempton's class, and swooning over a good turn of phrase, a well-made metaphor, tidy parallel construction, and, ahhhhh! symbolism! Unlocking texts for their deep truths to be laid beautifully before me was a delicious pursuit. How many 16 year olds read The Crucible on their dinner break from their part-time job at Subway? How many read it more than 20 times?
I have become friends with an older woman in our neigborhood, she has some serious chronic pain issues that have far reaching effects on her emotionally and mentally, and she is amazing at coping, and very misunderstood, I think. She is still having her honeymoon with the word. She reads, and reads, and reads, and she tells me all about it, and I enjoy it and she gives me books and books to read, and I don't read them and I find myself wondering if that part of me is just gone. Or if it wasn't ever really that big of a part of me, just one I emphasized or pursued because I was pretty good at it and it was easy enough for me. Have I moved on or am I broken?
I know that grad school "broke" me in a sense, at least burned me out. It took me a long time after to want to read anything, for fun or otherwise. So maybe my relationship with writing or me and literature, or me and theory could be better expressed by Miss Jane Austen:
"When [Jane] was only fifteen, there was a gentleman at my brother Gardiner's in town, so much in love with her, that my sister-in-law was sure he would make her an offer before we came away. But however he did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were.''
``And so ended his affection,'' said Elizabeth impatiently. ``There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!''
``I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love,'' said Darcy.
``Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Every thing nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.''
One good Masters entirely starved it away!
So, since my friend asked me about this phantom book he expects me to write someday, an expectation I've had of myself since I was at least 5, I've been hemming and hawing with myself internally. Why am I NOT a writer? We had a family party here yesterday and my 11 year old niece had finished Shannon Hale's Books of Bayern series I lent her a while back, she was admist her own love affair with them. And we were having a great time talking about all the characters and all the possibilities of plot, etc. I saw myself in her, and I saw the value of what Shannon Hale and others like her do. And since I read Shannon Hale's blog regularly and since I "know," in theory "how she does it, I know what a writer looks like.
Incidentally, in Sunday School today, our lesson began with "what is the most important question you can ask?" The answer is "How" because once you know how, or choose to ask how, everything else is easy...still processing that one, feels very deep at the moment.
Shannon Hale has four young children, I think the oldest is only just school age, and the youngest two are toddler twins. She writes every day. She has a sitter come in for 3 hours or so and goes to her back room and writes. And that's how she does it. And she makes it very clear there are lots of other things she chooses not to do or to let go. But that is who she is. When I read that, I remember talking to Eric about it, about whether or not I could justify that kind of time. And whether or not I could justify it, was the underlying problem that I didn't WANT to. I can't stomach leaving my children for that length of time, even if part of it was naptime, or downtime, or whatever, everyday. 3 hours everyday! I know it's not that much time, and I'm not passing judgement here on anyone except myself. For me it feels un-doable. At least right now.
Shannon posted (Are you Hardcore?) about what kind of writer she is not too long ago, which I will excerpt a bit below. In college she did a travel abroad in Mexico and discovered an unknown ability to run, longer than she thought possible, an hour was a breeze. When she got home to SLC, she had a different experience:
After five minutes I began to wheeze. After ten minutes I collapsed. Was I ill? Perhaps dying of consumption? I tried the jogging thing a few more times before I realized that while I flew at sea level, I flailed at 4200 feet. Did I push through it and get stronger? No, I quit. It turned out, I was a gravy runner. I was no where near hardcore.
I've discovered that I can be hardcore as a writer. I write when the words are flowing. I write when they're not. I write when the story delights me and I can't wait to see what happens next. I write when the story is murky and sticky and complicated. I write when I'm energized and feeling great. I write when I'm sick, pregnant, have newborns, am grumpy, sad, confused, angry, and so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. I'm hardcore, baby.
I've thought about her post a lot since I read it. I'm not sure what it means for me. And this post isn't about (OK, I have no idea what it's about) whether or not I'm a writer, exactly. But I think it's more of an attempt to figure out, yet again, what I am, and also, my relationship with writing and how it has changed without me understanding it. If I haven't posted thoughts of this kind, I've certainly journaled them and mused and nursed them a lot in the past, but I think a huge part of my problem is that I WANT to be hardcore, at something. I have a deep desire for excellence and excelling at SOMETHING. And while I am a Jill-of-all-trades, and I love all the things I'm interested in, I am, in practice, a gravy Jill. And right now, I'm too tired to be anything more.
I am not, however, a gravy Mom. I'm hardcore, baby. And there is no gravy in my commitment to my faith and family. And I know that. And it's not going to change, no matter how weary I might feel. And I think it's OK that I take a certain amount of comfort in that.
There are few aspects about motherhood that I wasn't prepared for: the pure physical demand of it, the depth and breadth and height of joy of it, and how much I would wrangle with myself again, just like in my cute teenage and single college years, with who I am, what that means, and how to do it.
So that's all for now. Here's hoping that was less of a downer than my previous post. I am less down, regardless of how it sounded ;-) Thanks for reading. And I'd love to hear thoughts from all my insightful readers. The end.
I do know that all healing takes time. Today in my lesson to the 12-13 year old young woman of our congregation, we went over the steps of repentance (a word I still misspell). As children, we were all just taught a handful of steps, all R words for remembrance sake. Today we went over 8, all from a conference address by Elder Hales, one of those was "Allow Time." I really wish I had learned that one in primary. I think there is sometimes this expectation that we can get up from our knees (or journal, or scriptures, or blog post) and have everything magically better. So, yeah, I need to give myself some time, continue to work through all this. But let's face it, I'm impatient.
I met up with an old friend at church today. This guy is someone my Dad loves to give me a hard time about. He didn't move in until high school, and he ended up being our valedictorian (hence the ribbing, since I was not) and we were both not only smart, but intellectuals, something very strange here. We were never terribly close, but I think we had a mutual respect for each other and we've kept tabs on each other and congratulated each on life as we've lived it. Anyway, he's at MIT, all but dissertation, already accepted a job in Seattle that will start next January. He has just the sweetest, beautiful, animated wife and two amazing girls, pretty close in age to mine. He asked what we were up to. And I told him honestly, without apology, without false optimism but not pessimism what we are up to. It sounded something like this:
Well, Eric graduated from law school last year and passed the bar last fall. And he's still looking for something more permanent and steady.
My friend knowingly responded how tough the legal market is right now, thank you Wall Street journal for putting that out there (%50 of Eric's class are not employed in a real, legal, full-time job 9 months post graduation), can I tell you the number of family and friends have, essentially asked me "did you know it was that bad??" Yep, I sort of had a clue! And then he asked what kind of law Eric wants to do. So we talked about that and how that influences things. And I kept my straight-forward, easy way of conversing until he asked:
So what about you?
THEN the hemming and hawing began. THEN there was the looking down and the hesitancy and the sudden mental rush of turning inward and grasping at straws.
and then he followed up with:
I'm still waiting for that book of yours.
Now, there is no "The" or "that" book. Just that my identity for so long was bound up in words. I was definitely an English nut, romanced by nearly everything I read in Mrs. Kempton's class, and swooning over a good turn of phrase, a well-made metaphor, tidy parallel construction, and, ahhhhh! symbolism! Unlocking texts for their deep truths to be laid beautifully before me was a delicious pursuit. How many 16 year olds read The Crucible on their dinner break from their part-time job at Subway? How many read it more than 20 times?
I have become friends with an older woman in our neigborhood, she has some serious chronic pain issues that have far reaching effects on her emotionally and mentally, and she is amazing at coping, and very misunderstood, I think. She is still having her honeymoon with the word. She reads, and reads, and reads, and she tells me all about it, and I enjoy it and she gives me books and books to read, and I don't read them and I find myself wondering if that part of me is just gone. Or if it wasn't ever really that big of a part of me, just one I emphasized or pursued because I was pretty good at it and it was easy enough for me. Have I moved on or am I broken?
I know that grad school "broke" me in a sense, at least burned me out. It took me a long time after to want to read anything, for fun or otherwise. So maybe my relationship with writing or me and literature, or me and theory could be better expressed by Miss Jane Austen:
"When [Jane] was only fifteen, there was a gentleman at my brother Gardiner's in town, so much in love with her, that my sister-in-law was sure he would make her an offer before we came away. But however he did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were.''
``And so ended his affection,'' said Elizabeth impatiently. ``There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!''
``I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love,'' said Darcy.
``Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Every thing nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.''
One good Masters entirely starved it away!
So, since my friend asked me about this phantom book he expects me to write someday, an expectation I've had of myself since I was at least 5, I've been hemming and hawing with myself internally. Why am I NOT a writer? We had a family party here yesterday and my 11 year old niece had finished Shannon Hale's Books of Bayern series I lent her a while back, she was admist her own love affair with them. And we were having a great time talking about all the characters and all the possibilities of plot, etc. I saw myself in her, and I saw the value of what Shannon Hale and others like her do. And since I read Shannon Hale's blog regularly and since I "know," in theory "how she does it, I know what a writer looks like.
Incidentally, in Sunday School today, our lesson began with "what is the most important question you can ask?" The answer is "How" because once you know how, or choose to ask how, everything else is easy...still processing that one, feels very deep at the moment.
Shannon Hale has four young children, I think the oldest is only just school age, and the youngest two are toddler twins. She writes every day. She has a sitter come in for 3 hours or so and goes to her back room and writes. And that's how she does it. And she makes it very clear there are lots of other things she chooses not to do or to let go. But that is who she is. When I read that, I remember talking to Eric about it, about whether or not I could justify that kind of time. And whether or not I could justify it, was the underlying problem that I didn't WANT to. I can't stomach leaving my children for that length of time, even if part of it was naptime, or downtime, or whatever, everyday. 3 hours everyday! I know it's not that much time, and I'm not passing judgement here on anyone except myself. For me it feels un-doable. At least right now.
Shannon posted (Are you Hardcore?) about what kind of writer she is not too long ago, which I will excerpt a bit below. In college she did a travel abroad in Mexico and discovered an unknown ability to run, longer than she thought possible, an hour was a breeze. When she got home to SLC, she had a different experience:
After five minutes I began to wheeze. After ten minutes I collapsed. Was I ill? Perhaps dying of consumption? I tried the jogging thing a few more times before I realized that while I flew at sea level, I flailed at 4200 feet. Did I push through it and get stronger? No, I quit. It turned out, I was a gravy runner. I was no where near hardcore.
I've discovered that I can be hardcore as a writer. I write when the words are flowing. I write when they're not. I write when the story delights me and I can't wait to see what happens next. I write when the story is murky and sticky and complicated. I write when I'm energized and feeling great. I write when I'm sick, pregnant, have newborns, am grumpy, sad, confused, angry, and so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. I'm hardcore, baby.
I've thought about her post a lot since I read it. I'm not sure what it means for me. And this post isn't about (OK, I have no idea what it's about) whether or not I'm a writer, exactly. But I think it's more of an attempt to figure out, yet again, what I am, and also, my relationship with writing and how it has changed without me understanding it. If I haven't posted thoughts of this kind, I've certainly journaled them and mused and nursed them a lot in the past, but I think a huge part of my problem is that I WANT to be hardcore, at something. I have a deep desire for excellence and excelling at SOMETHING. And while I am a Jill-of-all-trades, and I love all the things I'm interested in, I am, in practice, a gravy Jill. And right now, I'm too tired to be anything more.
I am not, however, a gravy Mom. I'm hardcore, baby. And there is no gravy in my commitment to my faith and family. And I know that. And it's not going to change, no matter how weary I might feel. And I think it's OK that I take a certain amount of comfort in that.
There are few aspects about motherhood that I wasn't prepared for: the pure physical demand of it, the depth and breadth and height of joy of it, and how much I would wrangle with myself again, just like in my cute teenage and single college years, with who I am, what that means, and how to do it.
So that's all for now. Here's hoping that was less of a downer than my previous post. I am less down, regardless of how it sounded ;-) Thanks for reading. And I'd love to hear thoughts from all my insightful readers. The end.
Cousin-Friends
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Harmony Kids Spring Sing 2012
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The girls again sang with Grandma Julie in her singing group, Harmony
Kids, this year. This is the whole group, ages 1-15. Here are a few pictures from their Spring Sing.
The girls are in a class with two 4 almost 5 year olds, Raegan and Joey.
Emiline's favorite song, by far, is "Your Momma Don't Dance and Your Daddy Don't Rock and Roll." You should see her stomp her foot! Both girls really like "I'll Be Nice," and it helps that there are maracas for that one. Props go along way when you are three and not quite 2.
Thanks Grandma Julie for letting them join in the fun!
Totsiens
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...that's Afrikaans for "goodbye," or so Google tells me.
Last night I said goodbye to one of my favorite people in the world--my little sister. I can't say she is THE favorite, what with having a husband and kids and amazing parents and five other pretty fantastic siblings, etc, etc. But can I say what a balm to my soul she has been in the weeks she has been staying at the homestead?
Hollijo is pretty amazing stuff. She just left the army after five years of diligent work and service. And she is right now on a plane to South Africa to live out a dream she's had since she was a kid. I will always look up to my little sister.
Last night I said goodbye to one of my favorite people in the world--my little sister. I can't say she is THE favorite, what with having a husband and kids and amazing parents and five other pretty fantastic siblings, etc, etc. But can I say what a balm to my soul she has been in the weeks she has been staying at the homestead?
Hollijo is pretty amazing stuff. She just left the army after five years of diligent work and service. And she is right now on a plane to South Africa to live out a dream she's had since she was a kid. I will always look up to my little sister.
Going There
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So I'm just going to put it out there--I'm not OK. Frankly, I'm not sure what I am, but this uncertainty I think is the real reason that I have remained functionally mute in so many ways for so long. Why functionally? Because my degree of muteness is impairing my ability to function. I don't journal. I don't blog. My prayers are piddily. My Go-To girls from Minnesota I would usually employ in absorbing all the blather and dithering from my mouth are, well, in Minnesota (or moved to states that are not Idaho). I can't write anything, not even Facebook Status updates (not that I was ever very good at that). And more, I can hardly create anything anymore, it seems. I've always been an idea girl, and I still have them on occasion. Before they would flash in the pan, get me excited and moving, and then if they didn't come to pass it was because I had another idea, or already had too many before and it's just not possible to follow through on all the ideas. Now, its I get some flashes and before I get very far, the fear or the rejection that feels like my life settles in and I think something I haven't really thought a whole lot in my life "I can't."
And IT'S BEEN A YEAR! Seriously. I have been in this Netherland of Unknown Limbo-i-stan for more than a year.
I haven't wanted to write all this because I haven't wanted to complain or whine or solicit pep talks. I am so blessed right now. My kids are amazing. My husband is so sweet and diligent and hilarious and wonderful. We have food, clothes, and shelter. We are all healthy. We are supremely thrilled with Baby Boy's impending arrival. My parents are the best housemates you could imagine. I feel like we are doing all that we know how and just keep hitting the wall and my bruises are getting bruises. And now I'm at the point were I keep looking for the magic pill, for the thing that will get me out of this boggy mental quicksand I'm in. I feel like every struggle is pointless. I catch glimmer of something that might just work to shatter the wall, and then I can't seem to make myself follow through and give it a try. "Just Try" is a family rule. Or as Dory says "just keep swimming..." And I can't. Or don't. Or won't. See, my muteness has gummed up my ability to even use verbs properly.
Please, no comments on this one, K? This one was just meant to go out into the universe and echo around, but not be answered. I would have put it on the secret blog, but this part of our life is a story of our lives. Definitely a story that is causing lines on my face, I'm just hoping they aren't all those confused "what-the-..." lines I get on my forehead and in between my nose when I scrunch up my face like a pug dog. Unless, of course, you want to tell my you liked my writing, that I had a particularly nice turn of phrase or image, in that case, comment away.
And IT'S BEEN A YEAR! Seriously. I have been in this Netherland of Unknown Limbo-i-stan for more than a year.
I haven't wanted to write all this because I haven't wanted to complain or whine or solicit pep talks. I am so blessed right now. My kids are amazing. My husband is so sweet and diligent and hilarious and wonderful. We have food, clothes, and shelter. We are all healthy. We are supremely thrilled with Baby Boy's impending arrival. My parents are the best housemates you could imagine. I feel like we are doing all that we know how and just keep hitting the wall and my bruises are getting bruises. And now I'm at the point were I keep looking for the magic pill, for the thing that will get me out of this boggy mental quicksand I'm in. I feel like every struggle is pointless. I catch glimmer of something that might just work to shatter the wall, and then I can't seem to make myself follow through and give it a try. "Just Try" is a family rule. Or as Dory says "just keep swimming..." And I can't. Or don't. Or won't. See, my muteness has gummed up my ability to even use verbs properly.
Please, no comments on this one, K? This one was just meant to go out into the universe and echo around, but not be answered. I would have put it on the secret blog, but this part of our life is a story of our lives. Definitely a story that is causing lines on my face, I'm just hoping they aren't all those confused "what-the-..." lines I get on my forehead and in between my nose when I scrunch up my face like a pug dog. Unless, of course, you want to tell my you liked my writing, that I had a particularly nice turn of phrase or image, in that case, comment away.
Aunt Holli, World Traveler
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My girls have been so lucky to have extended time with their Aunt Holli before she heads off on her world adventure. They have learned so much from her. Here they are "helping" her pack.
Some Recent Stories
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I'm BAA-AACK!
Has it really been that long since I wrote? There are a few really good reasons for this:
-I have really given up sitting. Like, I try to only do it when I have to (sans dinner time). I'm kind of undergoing a health revolution, again, and part of that means, for me, computer time = destroying my health. I'll blog about it in more detail later. Hopefully. At any rate, I basically feel like I'm rationing my computer time all the time, which is sad because there is a lot of fun to be had on my ungracefully aging laptop.
-I'm pregnant!! I'd thought to wait to announce this til I had an ultrasound pic to go with, but who knows when that will be. We are due end of August (16+ weeks) and we are all thrilled. Point is, I've been pretty sick for the last three months or so, and it's been much worse then my other two (and I didn't just forget). Started a lot sooner, lasted a lot longer. I shouldn't even be typing this, I should be sleeping...
OK- now on to the stories that compelled me to sit down right at this moment.
I should start out by saying how beautiful today was! We get one really nice out of ten during March in Idaho. The rest of the time it blows constantly. Oh, how I detest the wind! So I threw the windows open nearly first thing this morning and just ate up the sunshine and the only slightly frigid air coming in.
We have been potty training again. And yes, we gave up before because I was too sick to do it right. Emiline has this uncanny ability to keep her night and naptime diapers dry. One day last week, we went through 5 panties and pants but both her diapers that day were dry! Grrr!!! It's a matter of motivating her to announce that she needs to go, which I figured out today. We had some gorgeous weather and so this morning we all went for a walk. I told Emiline that if she had an accident on our walk she'd get really cold and sad and it wouldn't be any fun. On our way home through a field she told me, I whipped off her pants and held her up while she went! Then Grandpa took us all to McDonalds (for the outdoor playground, again, the nice weather) and I told her if she had an accident, she would get in trouble, wouldn't get to play on the toys and would have to sit in the car. She did great. I did not, however, communicate the consequences at the hardware store, but I made her experience the consequences a bit while there. I made her stand in her mess (I cleaned up the puddle, not her) and we kept on shopping and she felt left alone while my dad went for the emergency bag out in the car. The section of the store we were in was all low counters so I could walk where she couldn't see me but I could see her. She cried and kept saying "I don't like to be wet!" It worked well for us, but I'm sure the people in the store were glad when we left ;-)
Back to our morning walk- we tend to do a version of the same basic path a lot these days. We walk through the backyard and explore my dad's junk pile of old wood and things and then back to the two "balance bridges" that cross the two ditches at the back of the property and then we climb out a low spot in the fence and take the ditch road a ways. Jane loves to walk in the ditch, it's such an adventure of shells and random hills of sediment and weeds. Today we made it to a portion of the ditch that is full of snow all winter because it is the drifting spot of the field next to it and it's angle towards the sun. They thought it was so neat to walk on "waves of snow." Then we crossed through a field to circle back home. It was delightful, even though we didn't stop at the church to play Hide and Seek like we often do, much to Jane's disappointment.
Our scrappy cat, Kafi Achilles Bandit always comes with us on our walks. She thinks she's a dog. There is a tomcat that is starting to think he lives here, too and sort of picks on Kafi and today that tom kept showing up on our walk, too. I'd chase it away and tell the girls what a mean cat it was. They would comment on how it should be nice, etc. Anyway, shortly after Emiline pottied, the cat showed up again and then Jane started singing a song, "Lullaby" from our church's children's songbook. I've sung it to them since they were babies but change the words all the time. So she starts singing it and I'm not really listening but I think there were things in there about sharing and kindness and loving. When she finishes, she turns to me and says: "Mom, I sang that song so that cat would fill the spirit and be nice." Sort of blew me away! I have told her often when I feel the spirit during music and she's been learning in church how the spirit helps us choose the right. But she put them together.
We had a great, long, walk. I pushed them on the swings, we jumped on the tramp for a bit, then ran inside for a potty break and a snack. While upstairs, I hear this strange fluttering noise and notice some things from on top of the very tall armoire on the floor. Then I see out of the corner of my eye the fluttering and hear a "Bang, bang, bang" as a starling that got in to the house, I'm assuming from the windows I threw open earlier, tries to get out a shut window. Jane and Emiline think it's the coolest thing ever and Jane wants to keep it and hold. I call my dad up and luckily it flies down from the vaulted ceiling and for another window in the half bathroom. My dad, quite deftly I must add, catches the thing and as I got to open the door to let it out he says, "or we could just feed it to the cat." I tell him no and that the cat should catch it's own food and the pretty bird goes free. Quite an exciting end to our morning. More exciting was finding little "presents" from the bird the rest of the day. We had been identifying cow and horse poop on our walk and we got to identify bird poop afterwards at home!
Later today, we went back outside to ride bikes. I knew how it would go, that I would be pushing them most of the way and probably carrying the bikes, a Radio Flyer tricycle and a simple toddler ride-on push type toy. But we went over to the church anyway. It's sure nice to have such a long bunch of smooth pavement to play on. Emiline couldn't figure out how to make herself go forwards on the ride-on toy. But Jane did much better than I expected on her tricycle, except she kept stopping to ring the bell to "warn" everything, "all the cars," the church, me, Emiline, the cat, the tomcat. It was nice little memory we made. Then, on the way back, Emiline's shoe slipped off while she was running at full speed and she smacked hands then face into the pavement and just howled. So I ended up carrying the bikes and Emiline back home. But it was nothing kisses and a Popsicle couldn't fix.
And, here's the icing on the cake (except I don't like icing, so we'll say fruit topping and cream on the cake): No fights at dinner. Both girls ate what was basically new/not a standard/accepted meal from their repertoire, with grace and timeliness. It helped that there was an unfinished Diego episode waiting for them. And they just had to find out how Diego would save the baby humpback whale.
After they were in bed, I made a circle cowgirl skirt to add to the dress up box. Here's the other way we are upping the potty-training ante. Every time Emiline announces she has to go potty BEFORE she goes, she gets a potty present, something to add to her dress up box. She earned a pirate hat and a cowgirl hat today and hopefully she'll get the skirt tomorrow. I've been finding things here and there for at least a year now that I've been hanging on to til they were really ready to appreciate dress up. Now is the time!
Other fun recent things: On Monday I was feeling GREAT. The first real, totally good day I've had this pregnancy, so I demoed my parent's half bathroom, took down the wallpaper and tile. And, note to self, wear gloves when demoing tile next time...I had a fabulous time actually doing something productive and physical. Can't wait to put up the tile, paint, and put in new floors!
Tuesday was Idaho's republican primary caucus, the first one we've had. We got a babysitter so it was also date night, and we both went. It was exciting at times, really neat to have that many people gathered all together. But also frustrating as there were some technical hiccups. Sorta needed a dress rehearsal, I guess ;-) It always amazes me how much more connected I feel to Eric when we spend a few hours together away from the house and kids. Even if we don't talk much or do anything interesting. It was nice. So for those of you interested, the breakdown of votes in Cassia County of Southern Idaho were 144 Santorum, 143 Ron Paul, 28 Gingrich, and 1200+ for Romney. I didn't catch the rest of the number as the crowd was too loud and the announcer too quiet. But he won by 80% so there was only one round of voting and we went home early. We also sat in front of some high school kids who were voting for the first time and didn't know a thing about the candidates "Gingrich was speaker of the house?!?" or what was going on "Wait, we're voting tonight?" and we heard all kinds of stories about the exploits of teenage hicks for an hour "Yeah, she's mad at me because I showed up for our date drunk..."
Wednesday was also a fun day, more fun in retrospect. It was my turn to teach preschool and one of the topics this month is nutrition. I stressed a bit on how to teach this to 3 and 4 year olds but in the end came up with something fun. We talked about babies and who had babies in their house and who used to be a baby and what babies eat and how they grow up. Then we talked about the different kinds of food and what they do for our bodies and how they help us grow. I called grains "energy food," dairy and protein "strength food" and fruits and veggies "grow food" and I made up a little action for each. We all pretended to be tired and then found some energy food. I had bowls of a bunch of different kinds of grain and pasta and cereal and rice and let them glue them to their first puzzle piece. Then we talked about Strength foods and ran and jumped and hung and swung from the pull up bar. They really liked it. We glued a picture of a muscle on the next puzzle piece. Then I pulled out coloring sheets of fruits and veggies, like 20 different ones on each paper and we identified them and their color and talked about how they help our bodies grow, and colored them and I had this cute rainbow graphic that was made up of fruit and veggies. We glued that to our last puzzle piece and then stapled them to a paper plate and put a magnet on the back so they could stick it on their fridge. It was a hit...OK, it was a hit with 2 of the 5 all the time and a partial hit for 2 more and just a walk for the youngest. But Jane, and even Emiline, really liked it and we've been using it since to help her understand she needs lots of different kinds of foods, and less cheese and more "grow foods."
Now that I've completely sabotaged myself by staying up and hour and a half later, I'm going to go and finish my evening with some HGTV and a bowl of cereal before I hit the hay. That blood sugar is my tyrant!
Has it really been that long since I wrote? There are a few really good reasons for this:
-I have really given up sitting. Like, I try to only do it when I have to (sans dinner time). I'm kind of undergoing a health revolution, again, and part of that means, for me, computer time = destroying my health. I'll blog about it in more detail later. Hopefully. At any rate, I basically feel like I'm rationing my computer time all the time, which is sad because there is a lot of fun to be had on my ungracefully aging laptop.
-I'm pregnant!! I'd thought to wait to announce this til I had an ultrasound pic to go with, but who knows when that will be. We are due end of August (16+ weeks) and we are all thrilled. Point is, I've been pretty sick for the last three months or so, and it's been much worse then my other two (and I didn't just forget). Started a lot sooner, lasted a lot longer. I shouldn't even be typing this, I should be sleeping...
OK- now on to the stories that compelled me to sit down right at this moment.
I should start out by saying how beautiful today was! We get one really nice out of ten during March in Idaho. The rest of the time it blows constantly. Oh, how I detest the wind! So I threw the windows open nearly first thing this morning and just ate up the sunshine and the only slightly frigid air coming in.
We have been potty training again. And yes, we gave up before because I was too sick to do it right. Emiline has this uncanny ability to keep her night and naptime diapers dry. One day last week, we went through 5 panties and pants but both her diapers that day were dry! Grrr!!! It's a matter of motivating her to announce that she needs to go, which I figured out today. We had some gorgeous weather and so this morning we all went for a walk. I told Emiline that if she had an accident on our walk she'd get really cold and sad and it wouldn't be any fun. On our way home through a field she told me, I whipped off her pants and held her up while she went! Then Grandpa took us all to McDonalds (for the outdoor playground, again, the nice weather) and I told her if she had an accident, she would get in trouble, wouldn't get to play on the toys and would have to sit in the car. She did great. I did not, however, communicate the consequences at the hardware store, but I made her experience the consequences a bit while there. I made her stand in her mess (I cleaned up the puddle, not her) and we kept on shopping and she felt left alone while my dad went for the emergency bag out in the car. The section of the store we were in was all low counters so I could walk where she couldn't see me but I could see her. She cried and kept saying "I don't like to be wet!" It worked well for us, but I'm sure the people in the store were glad when we left ;-)
Back to our morning walk- we tend to do a version of the same basic path a lot these days. We walk through the backyard and explore my dad's junk pile of old wood and things and then back to the two "balance bridges" that cross the two ditches at the back of the property and then we climb out a low spot in the fence and take the ditch road a ways. Jane loves to walk in the ditch, it's such an adventure of shells and random hills of sediment and weeds. Today we made it to a portion of the ditch that is full of snow all winter because it is the drifting spot of the field next to it and it's angle towards the sun. They thought it was so neat to walk on "waves of snow." Then we crossed through a field to circle back home. It was delightful, even though we didn't stop at the church to play Hide and Seek like we often do, much to Jane's disappointment.
Our scrappy cat, Kafi Achilles Bandit always comes with us on our walks. She thinks she's a dog. There is a tomcat that is starting to think he lives here, too and sort of picks on Kafi and today that tom kept showing up on our walk, too. I'd chase it away and tell the girls what a mean cat it was. They would comment on how it should be nice, etc. Anyway, shortly after Emiline pottied, the cat showed up again and then Jane started singing a song, "Lullaby" from our church's children's songbook. I've sung it to them since they were babies but change the words all the time. So she starts singing it and I'm not really listening but I think there were things in there about sharing and kindness and loving. When she finishes, she turns to me and says: "Mom, I sang that song so that cat would fill the spirit and be nice." Sort of blew me away! I have told her often when I feel the spirit during music and she's been learning in church how the spirit helps us choose the right. But she put them together.
We had a great, long, walk. I pushed them on the swings, we jumped on the tramp for a bit, then ran inside for a potty break and a snack. While upstairs, I hear this strange fluttering noise and notice some things from on top of the very tall armoire on the floor. Then I see out of the corner of my eye the fluttering and hear a "Bang, bang, bang" as a starling that got in to the house, I'm assuming from the windows I threw open earlier, tries to get out a shut window. Jane and Emiline think it's the coolest thing ever and Jane wants to keep it and hold. I call my dad up and luckily it flies down from the vaulted ceiling and for another window in the half bathroom. My dad, quite deftly I must add, catches the thing and as I got to open the door to let it out he says, "or we could just feed it to the cat." I tell him no and that the cat should catch it's own food and the pretty bird goes free. Quite an exciting end to our morning. More exciting was finding little "presents" from the bird the rest of the day. We had been identifying cow and horse poop on our walk and we got to identify bird poop afterwards at home!
Later today, we went back outside to ride bikes. I knew how it would go, that I would be pushing them most of the way and probably carrying the bikes, a Radio Flyer tricycle and a simple toddler ride-on push type toy. But we went over to the church anyway. It's sure nice to have such a long bunch of smooth pavement to play on. Emiline couldn't figure out how to make herself go forwards on the ride-on toy. But Jane did much better than I expected on her tricycle, except she kept stopping to ring the bell to "warn" everything, "all the cars," the church, me, Emiline, the cat, the tomcat. It was nice little memory we made. Then, on the way back, Emiline's shoe slipped off while she was running at full speed and she smacked hands then face into the pavement and just howled. So I ended up carrying the bikes and Emiline back home. But it was nothing kisses and a Popsicle couldn't fix.
And, here's the icing on the cake (except I don't like icing, so we'll say fruit topping and cream on the cake): No fights at dinner. Both girls ate what was basically new/not a standard/accepted meal from their repertoire, with grace and timeliness. It helped that there was an unfinished Diego episode waiting for them. And they just had to find out how Diego would save the baby humpback whale.
After they were in bed, I made a circle cowgirl skirt to add to the dress up box. Here's the other way we are upping the potty-training ante. Every time Emiline announces she has to go potty BEFORE she goes, she gets a potty present, something to add to her dress up box. She earned a pirate hat and a cowgirl hat today and hopefully she'll get the skirt tomorrow. I've been finding things here and there for at least a year now that I've been hanging on to til they were really ready to appreciate dress up. Now is the time!
Other fun recent things: On Monday I was feeling GREAT. The first real, totally good day I've had this pregnancy, so I demoed my parent's half bathroom, took down the wallpaper and tile. And, note to self, wear gloves when demoing tile next time...I had a fabulous time actually doing something productive and physical. Can't wait to put up the tile, paint, and put in new floors!
Tuesday was Idaho's republican primary caucus, the first one we've had. We got a babysitter so it was also date night, and we both went. It was exciting at times, really neat to have that many people gathered all together. But also frustrating as there were some technical hiccups. Sorta needed a dress rehearsal, I guess ;-) It always amazes me how much more connected I feel to Eric when we spend a few hours together away from the house and kids. Even if we don't talk much or do anything interesting. It was nice. So for those of you interested, the breakdown of votes in Cassia County of Southern Idaho were 144 Santorum, 143 Ron Paul, 28 Gingrich, and 1200+ for Romney. I didn't catch the rest of the number as the crowd was too loud and the announcer too quiet. But he won by 80% so there was only one round of voting and we went home early. We also sat in front of some high school kids who were voting for the first time and didn't know a thing about the candidates "Gingrich was speaker of the house?!?" or what was going on "Wait, we're voting tonight?" and we heard all kinds of stories about the exploits of teenage hicks for an hour "Yeah, she's mad at me because I showed up for our date drunk..."
Wednesday was also a fun day, more fun in retrospect. It was my turn to teach preschool and one of the topics this month is nutrition. I stressed a bit on how to teach this to 3 and 4 year olds but in the end came up with something fun. We talked about babies and who had babies in their house and who used to be a baby and what babies eat and how they grow up. Then we talked about the different kinds of food and what they do for our bodies and how they help us grow. I called grains "energy food," dairy and protein "strength food" and fruits and veggies "grow food" and I made up a little action for each. We all pretended to be tired and then found some energy food. I had bowls of a bunch of different kinds of grain and pasta and cereal and rice and let them glue them to their first puzzle piece. Then we talked about Strength foods and ran and jumped and hung and swung from the pull up bar. They really liked it. We glued a picture of a muscle on the next puzzle piece. Then I pulled out coloring sheets of fruits and veggies, like 20 different ones on each paper and we identified them and their color and talked about how they help our bodies grow, and colored them and I had this cute rainbow graphic that was made up of fruit and veggies. We glued that to our last puzzle piece and then stapled them to a paper plate and put a magnet on the back so they could stick it on their fridge. It was a hit...OK, it was a hit with 2 of the 5 all the time and a partial hit for 2 more and just a walk for the youngest. But Jane, and even Emiline, really liked it and we've been using it since to help her understand she needs lots of different kinds of foods, and less cheese and more "grow foods."
Now that I've completely sabotaged myself by staying up and hour and a half later, I'm going to go and finish my evening with some HGTV and a bowl of cereal before I hit the hay. That blood sugar is my tyrant!
Dressing Up
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We've been doing lots of potty teaching and training, here and there, for at least a month plus now. I think this picture accurately depicts how it's going. Emiline can hold it and she can release it on command most of the time. But I think she more likes the idea of wearing panties, like for dress up, than for continually keeping dry. She gets distracted and busy with her life. So we've decided to just take her regularly and keep making it an exciting, positive thing and wait for her to decide she's ready to go to panties full time or I'm ready to handle it positively and consistently.
Pics from Christmas Card Photo Shoot
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How I adore my girls! (Most of the time) I can't get over how much joy they bring into my life. I feel like the harvest comes pretty quickly with children in some ways. For me, the tiny baby phase (til about 6 months) is like weeding the garden. It just has to be done. Sure there are enjoyable moments here and there, but for the most part, for me, it's just a whole lot of work (can you tell I didn't enjoy gardening as kid/teenager? I have yet to plant my own garden, so I may change my tune soon...) But then, late summer hits and you kind of get overwhelmed with all the bounty. Having more zucchini or apples or tomatoes than you know what to do with is a good problem. I'm salivating right now remembering how good our apples were this fall, how amazing fresh zucchini lasagna is or my sister's fresh bruschetta is. I kind of feel that way about my kids right now. They make me salivate ;-)
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