"See, even Gamma listens to what your mom says," Gamma said tonight at my house, trying to reinforce to my kids to listen to their parents.
"Yep, everyone listens to what Mom says," I said.
"Even Daddy," said Bekah.
"But who does Mama listen to?"I asked, trying to imply my husband.
"Herself." chimed my daughter.
"Daddy," I corrected.
"Is that right?" asked my husband.
"No." sang both kids in unison. My husband busted up laughing.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Couple picts
I took these one afternoon with 3 very squirelly kids, but the camera takes pictures quick. Love the new camera! No photo shop even... just a little help with iphoto.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Some enchanted evening
We are not great celebrators. Yes, we go out to dinner sometime within 2 weeks of our anniversary, but that's about it. We never celebrated 1 month together, 6 months, a year, when we met, when we got engaged (which was about when we met), or anything romantic like that. Even birthdays are kind of low-key. I bought my own present.
But one tradition that Rob decided when we were first married was that on Valentine's, we would have a nice, really gourmet, dinner together. With my lack of cooking passion, this tradition would have gone by the wayside. But no, every year Rob comes up with a fantastic menu, he has even gone grocery shopping in years past, and he does most of the cooking. One V-day, he even bought a blow-torch to make creme brulee (my husband knew I have a thing for food on fire). This year, he came home early (which was a feat in itself) and made a fantastic parmesan chicken over pesto and angel hair pasta. Asparagus with a sauce that called for 3 sticks of butter (he did not use that much, but obviously was delicious... I was scraping my plate). And then for dessert, we had parfait. Oh, it was fabulous! The kids loved it to... we ate a WHOLE MEAL with them only getting up off the table once. Okay, maybe twice... but only twice. We ate by candlelight (this was on principle... not quite so romantic when a child kept complaining that it was too dark) and listened to Rachmaninoff.
Then my man surprised me by suggesting we watch Enchanted April, the movie, he reminded me, that we saw our first Valentine's Day married. And he rubbed my feet. In the words of the movie, Moonstruck, "isn't it romantic!" (sounds a lot better when the cute old man in the movie is singing it).
But one tradition that Rob decided when we were first married was that on Valentine's, we would have a nice, really gourmet, dinner together. With my lack of cooking passion, this tradition would have gone by the wayside. But no, every year Rob comes up with a fantastic menu, he has even gone grocery shopping in years past, and he does most of the cooking. One V-day, he even bought a blow-torch to make creme brulee (my husband knew I have a thing for food on fire). This year, he came home early (which was a feat in itself) and made a fantastic parmesan chicken over pesto and angel hair pasta. Asparagus with a sauce that called for 3 sticks of butter (he did not use that much, but obviously was delicious... I was scraping my plate). And then for dessert, we had parfait. Oh, it was fabulous! The kids loved it to... we ate a WHOLE MEAL with them only getting up off the table once. Okay, maybe twice... but only twice. We ate by candlelight (this was on principle... not quite so romantic when a child kept complaining that it was too dark) and listened to Rachmaninoff.
Then my man surprised me by suggesting we watch Enchanted April, the movie, he reminded me, that we saw our first Valentine's Day married. And he rubbed my feet. In the words of the movie, Moonstruck, "isn't it romantic!" (sounds a lot better when the cute old man in the movie is singing it).
Friday, February 11, 2011
Love is in the air
You know how with your first child, everything is amazing. They smile, you laugh. They poop, you cheer. Everything is new. Your child is incredible.
By three, it should be pasee. Not only do I not know how to spell "pass-ay", but it isn't anyway. I just spent the last 2 hours laughing at Number 3's brilliant impersonation of a bobble head, wondering what he kept staring at right next to me for 15 minutes, and sighing at his sweet baby sleep.
I am not alone. My whole family is in love. "Say ARR, say ARR!" My daughter loves to lean over in his face and try to get him to talk. Last week, as a 7 week old, he said "aarrr" when hungry 3 times. My daughter happened to hear him after the first, and she believes his next two "aarrs" were actually in response to her prompting. So now, along with her incessant need to touch his head every chance she can (mostly I think because it drives me nuts), she also constantly practices saying arrr with him. My son (who can hold still for at least 2 minutes), loves feeding him a bottle and will lay down next to his little brother and encourage and talk to him whenever there is tummy time. As a bonus, this baby is quiet, he even cries quietly! That alone makes him extra special in this house.
Absolutely sappy, true. But I just cannot get over the fact that even though I've done this before, it is still so wonderful and new because it is all new to him!
By three, it should be pasee. Not only do I not know how to spell "pass-ay", but it isn't anyway. I just spent the last 2 hours laughing at Number 3's brilliant impersonation of a bobble head, wondering what he kept staring at right next to me for 15 minutes, and sighing at his sweet baby sleep.
I am not alone. My whole family is in love. "Say ARR, say ARR!" My daughter loves to lean over in his face and try to get him to talk. Last week, as a 7 week old, he said "aarrr" when hungry 3 times. My daughter happened to hear him after the first, and she believes his next two "aarrs" were actually in response to her prompting. So now, along with her incessant need to touch his head every chance she can (mostly I think because it drives me nuts), she also constantly practices saying arrr with him. My son (who can hold still for at least 2 minutes), loves feeding him a bottle and will lay down next to his little brother and encourage and talk to him whenever there is tummy time. As a bonus, this baby is quiet, he even cries quietly! That alone makes him extra special in this house.
Absolutely sappy, true. But I just cannot get over the fact that even though I've done this before, it is still so wonderful and new because it is all new to him!
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Changing
My closet is now littered with half-opened boxes. Sweaters, almost-fitting jeans, summer shirts. Instead of being put on shelves, neatly organized, many of them or folded into large piles, some out of reach on the highest shelf, others piled on top of boxes on the floor.
You have to understand, I love order. I CRAVE it. I own a label-maker (a successful mother's day gift from my husband), and have lovingly used it in linen-closets, storage room, etc. I come by it naturally... both my parents love order. And if you go to my mother's mother's home, you could open any drawer or cupboard and find things in rows and neatly labeled. She may lose her mind, but she will not lose anything else. Previously my own closet was organized by color... which sounds complicated, but since most of my tops were white, black, or blue, it really didn't take much to keep up.
But first came a move with a new closet, then another move, then pregnancy, with it's new wardrobe, and then post-pregnancy, another transition. And as I am now moving in to fitting more of my clothes (fit into another pair of jeans yesterday! Now I have 3 to rotate thru), I am needing to pull out more of the boxed winter clothes. Since the the official ground hog in Punxsutawney, Pa failed to see his shadow, winter is on it's way out, and with it, another wardrobe change. But judging from the mess on my closet floor, I'm not exactly sure what to do.
So what the heck? Why am I writing about my closet? While my closet has been in transition the last year and a half, my life has even more so. The transitioning has seen me through a new job, a new home, a new baby, new car, new body, new friends. And now I am given the gift of thinking time... as I spend hours feeding my baby each day, my mind has shifted to thinking about all of this shifting, and wondering where I want to be. And just like my closet, I'm not exactly sure.
Along with organization, I love goal setting. Just ask my husband. When we were first married, I would regularly fenagle him into discussing personal and family goals. It seems like every time I was in charge of FHE, I would excitedly talk about the importance of goals, and wrench out of him a couple, much like pulling teeth. Come to think of it, maybe that's why we weren't super good at having regular FHE...
By the end of January, I normally have a list of well-thought out goals for the year in my planner. And normally, there are little checks down most of the list by the end of December. But not this year. There are no goals yet. I don't even know what I want. I am still in transition, and I'm not ready to run out and commit to anything until I know what it is I want.
And that is where my closet and I sit. On the brink of something wonderful. I can feel it. I'm about to transition into someone new... I feel God's tugs trying to point and push me. I'm just not sure where. But I know I'll figure it out soon enough. It just takes a little while to get organized.
You have to understand, I love order. I CRAVE it. I own a label-maker (a successful mother's day gift from my husband), and have lovingly used it in linen-closets, storage room, etc. I come by it naturally... both my parents love order. And if you go to my mother's mother's home, you could open any drawer or cupboard and find things in rows and neatly labeled. She may lose her mind, but she will not lose anything else. Previously my own closet was organized by color... which sounds complicated, but since most of my tops were white, black, or blue, it really didn't take much to keep up.
But first came a move with a new closet, then another move, then pregnancy, with it's new wardrobe, and then post-pregnancy, another transition. And as I am now moving in to fitting more of my clothes (fit into another pair of jeans yesterday! Now I have 3 to rotate thru), I am needing to pull out more of the boxed winter clothes. Since the the official ground hog in Punxsutawney, Pa failed to see his shadow, winter is on it's way out, and with it, another wardrobe change. But judging from the mess on my closet floor, I'm not exactly sure what to do.
So what the heck? Why am I writing about my closet? While my closet has been in transition the last year and a half, my life has even more so. The transitioning has seen me through a new job, a new home, a new baby, new car, new body, new friends. And now I am given the gift of thinking time... as I spend hours feeding my baby each day, my mind has shifted to thinking about all of this shifting, and wondering where I want to be. And just like my closet, I'm not exactly sure.
Along with organization, I love goal setting. Just ask my husband. When we were first married, I would regularly fenagle him into discussing personal and family goals. It seems like every time I was in charge of FHE, I would excitedly talk about the importance of goals, and wrench out of him a couple, much like pulling teeth. Come to think of it, maybe that's why we weren't super good at having regular FHE...
By the end of January, I normally have a list of well-thought out goals for the year in my planner. And normally, there are little checks down most of the list by the end of December. But not this year. There are no goals yet. I don't even know what I want. I am still in transition, and I'm not ready to run out and commit to anything until I know what it is I want.
And that is where my closet and I sit. On the brink of something wonderful. I can feel it. I'm about to transition into someone new... I feel God's tugs trying to point and push me. I'm just not sure where. But I know I'll figure it out soon enough. It just takes a little while to get organized.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
a blast to the past
This weekend we went back to my alma mater. Between going to the basketball game and the art museum exhibition, I stopped by my old stomping grounds... passing by my old freshman apartment. It was already dated when I went (clean, but dated), so adding a few years or even, say, 50, doesn't change it all that much. There was a printer now in the basement lobby, but other than that, by all essentials, it was the same. And if you were to come on cleaning day, you would assuredly smell the same vinegar and lysol cleaner smell. Two girls walked out of my old apartment, and other than height, weight, and hair color, they looked exactly like I once did. I even stood by the same tree that my roommates and I had once taken pictures by and it was... just the same. It was all the same... a new generation doing and being exactly the same. It seems as though I could step through a time portal and somehow be back exactly where I was. Or actually, it seemed more like I shouldn't even need a time portal to step back... I should still be there.
The only difference was that now I was standing, looking at myself in the mirror outside the door with two children by my side (and another one with my husband). And the two children called me "mom" (which still sometimes wierds me out). And I am now over 15 YEARS older. WHAT!?
But I guess it's okay, because after that we went to the creamery for ice cream, which I never used to do because I couldn't afford it back then.
The only difference was that now I was standing, looking at myself in the mirror outside the door with two children by my side (and another one with my husband). And the two children called me "mom" (which still sometimes wierds me out). And I am now over 15 YEARS older. WHAT!?
But I guess it's okay, because after that we went to the creamery for ice cream, which I never used to do because I couldn't afford it back then.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Baby love
I must say that I was scared. In fact, I was more nervous with this third child than even the first. Probably because after my sick number 2, I had a much better grasp of just how hard it could be. Number 2, bless his heart... that was a dark time in my life... difficult pregnancy that moved right into difficult infancy. I love him dearly, it's true, but it took me about 4 years to even hold another baby willingly. So I was scared to the point of tears.
Number 3 will be 2 months next week, and how has it gone?
Fantastic. Really fantastic. While number 2 already had surgery by this age, we have dealt with not much more than suctioning noses (which as a pediatric nurse, I could probably do in my sleep). In the beginning, I was stressed out about nursing and poor weight gain (while my husband tried to gently remind me that it has happened with EVERY one of my children, so accept that I will never be a poster child for the La Leche league). By now, the hormones have settled down a little and I've settled down, too. One definite perk is that formula fills up a baby longer than breast milk, so other than when Rob is out of town, this baby usually sleeps really well at night (this baby feels that he needs to wake up frequently and keep me company whenever Rob is gone). So with some sleep, life has been grand.
The kids adore him, and bless his heart, he has been okay with all their adoration. No eyes have been poked out yet, knock on wood. Speaking of eyes, one cute little one is making eyes with me, so I better go do some oogling.
Number 3 will be 2 months next week, and how has it gone?
Fantastic. Really fantastic. While number 2 already had surgery by this age, we have dealt with not much more than suctioning noses (which as a pediatric nurse, I could probably do in my sleep). In the beginning, I was stressed out about nursing and poor weight gain (while my husband tried to gently remind me that it has happened with EVERY one of my children, so accept that I will never be a poster child for the La Leche league). By now, the hormones have settled down a little and I've settled down, too. One definite perk is that formula fills up a baby longer than breast milk, so other than when Rob is out of town, this baby usually sleeps really well at night (this baby feels that he needs to wake up frequently and keep me company whenever Rob is gone). So with some sleep, life has been grand.
The kids adore him, and bless his heart, he has been okay with all their adoration. No eyes have been poked out yet, knock on wood. Speaking of eyes, one cute little one is making eyes with me, so I better go do some oogling.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Highs and low
This weekend,
St George highs: 60 degrees
Las Vegas highs: 65
Los Angeles highs: 75
Salt Lake highs: 37
Chicago highs: 31
A friend and I were reminiscing about midwest weather today. You know, chiselling ice off the car, seeing the sun for 2 hours total in January, wind blown snow drifts. It reminded me of how great I have it here. But that sense of gratitude is wearing off tonight. I want to just up and drive south.
St George highs: 60 degrees
Las Vegas highs: 65
Los Angeles highs: 75
Salt Lake highs: 37
Chicago highs: 31
A friend and I were reminiscing about midwest weather today. You know, chiselling ice off the car, seeing the sun for 2 hours total in January, wind blown snow drifts. It reminded me of how great I have it here. But that sense of gratitude is wearing off tonight. I want to just up and drive south.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
masses
Several years ago, in the middle of our 7 year graduate-school stint, Rob came home excited. "I calculated it out, and we can be millionaires by 45 if we can just put $30K in savings every year."
"That's great honey. Now we just have to make at least $30K". "
So now that we have a real job, Rob's brain is starting to plan. Just before Grandma died, while aunts and uncles were sitting around talking, Rob approached one uncle to ask for any investment advice. "Now that we are entering a new phase of life and beginning to amass wealth..." (meaning that we are now able to buy Costco blueberries more than once a year). What was heard was something about us "accumulating a mass of wealth". The aunts and uncles had a good chuckle about our mass of wealth.
It's true. I've used like 6 $3 off coupons for formula.
"That's great honey. Now we just have to make at least $30K". "
So now that we have a real job, Rob's brain is starting to plan. Just before Grandma died, while aunts and uncles were sitting around talking, Rob approached one uncle to ask for any investment advice. "Now that we are entering a new phase of life and beginning to amass wealth..." (meaning that we are now able to buy Costco blueberries more than once a year). What was heard was something about us "accumulating a mass of wealth". The aunts and uncles had a good chuckle about our mass of wealth.
It's true. I've used like 6 $3 off coupons for formula.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)