About Me
I'm a busy woman who absolutely needs to take the time to write my thoughts and feelings down so I can remember what I was like yesterday. It's getting to the point that I can't start a sentence without forgetting how it's going to end.
In a nutshell, this is my therapy. Thanks for stopping by.COUNTER
Frozen Bananas
New Parents
My brother and his wife just had their first baby this past week. He is an adorable, brown-eyed, tiny, sweet baby boy. My brother is just over the moon with his new baby. I can tell because I've seen several opportunities for him to make snide remarks or sarcastic comments, and he let's them pass without even making a face.
Watching my brother and sister-in-law with their new baby has reminded me of what it felt like to be a new parent. Sleeping with my hand in the bassinet so I can feel her breathing, watching her sleep for hours at a time because I thought it was the only thing keeping her alive while the housework caved in around me, letting others hold her but suffering a silent panic attack every time she whimpered in their arms. At the same time trying to deal with an overwhelming surge of love for this tiny human being who, at least in the beginning, only cares that you keep her comfortable and fed. It was the first time I understood the meaning of unconditional love. Such a wonderful and scary time of life.
I'm very proud of these kids (yes I still think of them as kids). They are going to do a great job. There are some men in this world who are okay without raising kids of their own, some who have the title of 'dad' thrust upon them, some who learn as they go and end up doing a great job, and some who just go through the motions. But then there are some men in this world who were just meant to be dads, and I've always thought that to be the case for all my brothers. Even as teenagers they were great with younger children. As they got older, they all made wonderful uncles to my and my sister's kids. And now that they all have kids of their own, I've been able to see how they all have fit into the role of 'dad' like it was a comfortable mold. Something I'm sure they all learned from our own dad.
Little Girl, Huge Anxiety
Little H has been going through some stuff lately. It started back in December, and I just blamed the excitement over the holidays. I incorrectly thought she would go back to normal after Christmas. She is having a hard time going to bed without sobbing over something every night. Plus, she cries any time we are separated for some reason. She goes to preschool, she cries. I go to a church meeting, she cries. I go downstairs to work in my dungeon when Dan gets home, she cries. And it's not just when I leave or she goes to bed. No, she will start crying spontaneously over the most ridiculous things. Here's how one of our conversations went the other day:
Little H: Mom, I have a secret.
Me: What is it, hon?
Little H (tears welling up in her eyes): You know how sometimes people tease me about having a crush on Justin Bieber?
Me: Sure.
Little H (tears streaming down her face): I think I really do. And I just want to cry about it.
Me: Okay, that's fine. Why does it make you cry?
Little H (sobbing at this point): Because I kept it a secret, and I didn't tell you right away.
But it's not just Bieber who has her crying. Oh no, she is crying over crushes on her preschool teacher's son, two kids in her preschool class, her cousin's cousin (no blood relation), some kids she saw in church, and her uncle (definitely a blood relation) to name a few. It's so weird. Plus she's always needing reassurances that we won't be the victims of a tornado or volcano. Thank goodness she hasn't learned about earthquakes, yet. She couldn't sleep one night last week because she overheard a conversation between Dan and I about a cousin of mine who was in the hospital. I have always tried to be open and honest with her when she has questions, but lately I feel like I want to lie to her if the truth doesn't paint the world in rainbows and sunshine. Somehow my baby girl has taken on the weight of the world, and I don't know exactly how to lift it off her shoulders. I hate thinking there is something I should have done to prevent it. I've even wondered if a pediatric therapist might help. One day at a time, though, right?
A Brand New Year
I don't know how 2011 passed my by so quickly. I don't usually make resolutions, but I decided to give it a try this year. The problem is that I've come up with a list about a foot long of things I'd like to work on. I should probably narrow it down, but I'm not sure how. Losing weight, having a regular family night, finishing Buster's baby book, keep up with this blog (ha, ha) etc. They all seem so important. So for now I'll just try to do them all until I burn out by the end of January.
We brought in the New Year quietly at home with the family this year. My parents, sisters, and my sister's family came by, which was really fun. Our neighbors were nice enough to set off fireworks at 10:30 so the kids were actually able to see some of the celebration before we made them go to bed.
2011, I'll remember you as the year I lost my Grandma H. (for now, at least), the year I gained three beautiful new nieces, and the year I attempted to grow my hair out (an experiment still in process), among many, many other great and sometimes not-so-great things. Although, I'm sure we'll still be seeing each other intermittently until I can get used to writing 2012, so long 2011!
Christmas 2011
December started out with a horrendous storm in Northern Utah with 100 mph winds that tore down signs, ripped out trees, and knocked out power for 50,000 homes and also completely messed up the Christmas lights I had just put up.
Flying Fairy Ball
Yesterday my kids were fighting over a bouncy ball. Being the proactive mother that I am, I decided to interject after about a half hour. Assessing the situation, it appeared that Buster wasn't fetching the ball up to Little H's standards. I told her that she needed to give Buster the ball since it belonged to him. She decided to not just give it to him but actually launch it at his head. Fortunately she 'throws like a girl' and it landed beside him on the couch. Buster, having no idea that the ball was meant to incapacitate him, laughed and threw it back to her. Little H got into the game, and they ended up throwing the ball back and forth for the next fifteen minutes. She called me back into the room after about five minutes to witness the two of them getting along:
Little H: I think Buster and I just invented a new game.
Me: Wow! Maybe you should call it 'catch'.
Little H: Why would we call it that?
Me: You're right, that was a bad idea. What are you going to call it?
Little H: I think 'Flying Fairy' because the ball flies through the air.
This "new" game has actually been keeping the kids happy for a few days now. Why had I not thought of this before?
Halloween 2011
Halloween is absolutely my most favorite holiday. Or at least tied for first with the 4th of July. This year, when I started planning costumes two months in advance, Little H told me that she wanted to be Candace from the Disney cartoon Phineas and Ferb. This being one of the few cartoons that I really like to watch with the kids, I was pretty happy. Plus I could pick a costume for Buster that could go along the same Phineas and Ferb theme. As easy as it was to put a costume together for Little H, finding a Platypus costume for Buster proved rather difficult. Eventually I found a pattern for a crocheted hat that I thought would work. The only problem was that I didn't know how to crochet...
So I called my grandma and asked her to teach me. No problem. I am very confident in my abilities and knew I could learn to crochet in just a couple hours. My grandma is ambidextrous when it comes to crocheting so she's one of the few people I knew that would be able to teach me left-handed. The lesson was very eye-opening and made my hands hurt. It also made me realize that I was going to need to spend every spare moment working on this hat. But I took my needles and yarn (I had bought the wrong kind on my first attempt) and continued to work at home. It was a necessary part of the costume. Without it, people would be thinking "did that little boy just get back from the gym?" according to Little H.
Four days later, I got an e-mail from my grandma telling me she had made the hat and was almost done. She was letting me know that I could stop for now, and she also mentioned that she would probably start me out on a dishrag instead of a hat. I swear I wasn't slow and physically challenged on purpose to get my grandma to make the hat, but I also wasn't completely surprised that she made it. She's just that kind of person.
Only Thirteen Years To Go
I have a mental countdown going on because I'm pretty sure that as soon as my girl turns eighteen, she'll leave us in the dust. It's not just a hunch, either. She used to tell me all the time that she was going to move out as soon as she was old enough. Some of those times I would silently agree and tell myself that I would gladly pack her bags when the time came. Lately, though, it seems that she is so pleasant and sweet. I don't ever want her to leave me. I'm not sure if her personality is subconsciously becoming more agreeable to counteract her brother, who is becoming a little misfit hellion, or if she is just growing out of her craziness, but it has been so nice.
And the five years has just flown by. It seems like Dan and I were just barely at the hospital staring at this tiny little dependent alien creature. I remember being scared to death and overwhelmed with happiness all at the same time. Anyone who knows me was probably justifiably concerned about what kind of mother I would make. And five years later, judging by the result, I must say, I've raised exactly the kind of kid I would love to have. Either that, or God knew just the right kind person to send that would fit in perfectly with our family.
She's smart, beautiful, sarcastic and sweet. She's a great big sister/second mother to Buster. Despite my best efforts to the contrary, she loves princesses and wants to be a cheerleader. As a concession, she's told me that although she doesn't want to play soccer, she will cheer at the soccer games. She still likes to cuddle sometimes. She's super-creative can keep herself occupied for hours with just some crayons, paper, and scissors. I could just kiss her face off every time I see her. In spite of her feminine characteristics, she loves to wrestle and tells just about everyone that she knows karate. Oh, I love that girl. More and more every day. My only dilemma is that I'm not sure how much longer I'll still be able to call her Little H.
Let the Memories Begin
Dan and I have been talking about going to Disneyland for a little while now. The kids have developed an unhealthy fascination with the over-commercialized cartoon characters - with Little H's love of the princesses (despite my best efforts to push her in the opposite direction), and Buster knowing all the names of Mickey and his friends and preferring the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse song to any traditional lullaby at bedtime. So really, what better way to exhibit excellent parenting skills than to feed their obsessions, right? And on a more selfish note, I've never been before, either.
Dan had a conference in Las Vegas at the beginning of the week, so the kids and I tagged along. It made the perfect cover in surprising the kids with a trip to the Magic Kingdom. It really is quite the place. Each day seemed like a whirlwind, and each night we all passed out in our filthy clothes, too tired to move. (Sleeping in our clothes actually worked in our favor, since the hotel turned out to be lacking a laundry room.)
On the first day, we accidentally put Little H on a roller coaster. How were we supposed to know that Thunder Mountain might be a little scary? It looked like a train ride, and she met the height requirements, plus Dan went with her. It kind of set the tone for the rest of the trip as far as what rides she was willing to go on. Not too high, and not to fast... It seemed that meeting the characters was her favorite part, anyway.
There was so much to do there. I don't think it can be covered in three days. Plus it was super-crowded on Friday and Saturday. At one point, when I was holding Little H's hand in a huge crowd of people, I looked down to see her wiping her face on my shirt. I said, "Gross, are you wiping your nose on my shirt?" She motioned me closer to her and seriously whispered, "I'm not wiping my nose. It's just that my face accidentally ran into that lady's butt." I'm so glad I don't have to worry about that. What an unfortunate height.
As an added bonus, we got to spend some time with the kids' California cousins and Washington grandparents, and I think they enjoyed that even more than Disneyland. On Saturday morning, John and Kelsi took us out to Balboa where we bought overpriced taffy made in SLC and found the home of the 'original' Frozen Banana. Arrested Development doesn't do the area justice. It was a very nice place.
Overall, my favorite part of Disneyland was dinner in Goofy's kitchen. Little H got to meet a couple princesses, Buster fell in love with Pluto, and Dan and I got to sit down. The trip was great, and we hope to go again sometime, like when we won't need to bring a stroller and the kids are tall enough to go on the bigger rides. That will probably give us just enough time to recover.
They're about to pass me up...
I feel like my kids are here for my entertainment until they get older; after that, they are here to support me in my old age. And that is the reason I want them be smarter than me. Which some how has happened sooner than I'd anticipated. And in spite of Little H already assuming she knows everything, I think there may be a little more to learn beyond counting to ten in Spanish and knowing how to write out her name in all caps. Maybe not, though. We'll see.
In the meantime, Buster is also starting to make such great progress. Especially with the words he's been learning. After we got past that strange stage when he thought his name was 'Diaper', and then 'You', and then said 'Welcome' instead of 'Thank you' for a couple months, his vocabulary started taking off. Also he's very good at identifying his colors (except for 'green' which seems to be the default color when he's not really sure). That means I've about maxed out my vast knowledge with him, too. As soon as I can get him potty-trained and counting to twenty, I'll have done all I can do.
The End of Summer
So I survived my first summer being home with the kids. (Not entirely full-time I guess because I do have a small reprieve working in the basement.) The summer was something I was looking forward to with excitement and dread. Last year my little sister watched the kids the majority of the day while Dan and I worked, and they had a blast. I, on the other hand, am not nearly as fun and creative as their aunt Bailee. I hate to admit it, but a lot of the things that I planned, I did more out of obligation to the kids rather than thinking it would be fun for me.
I had to make a special effort to get out of the house (especially when it was so hot) to go swimming and to the park and to wherever else we went. I think we did alright for the most part. We have gotten into the bad habit of turning on the t.v. when we first wake up, but it's PBS so it's basically like school. With Little H starting preschool next week, I can't help but be a little sad that summer's over, though.
In addition to losing summer, one of my best, long-time friends just moved out of state this week. Not so far that we can't visit, but a lot further than she used to be. Our friendship has already survived the period Dan and I lived in Washington, so I'm not too worried, just a little sad. I guess our daily phone calls will just have to last a little longer. Before she left, we were able to take our kids to the zoo together one last time...for the summer, I mean. (That sounded awfully foreboding — I'm sure we'll go to the zoo together again. Like next year. When her husband gets a lucrative job offer in Utah. Because I'm using the power of positive thinking to get her back.)
