Oh Mannion!

And the Winner is . . .

2012-01-26T10:15:00.000-08:00

Commenter #7, Marcy, who I once upon a time only referred to as Mrs. Owens, my sixth grade teacher. And I don't think she's aged a bit in those (gasp) 23 years. How wonderful to see you again! If you'll email me your address at ruth_mannion@yahoo.com, I'll get Scrappy in the mail to you. Our winner was selected by my random number generator, also known as my husband, Bracken. I was planning on using one of my children, but the only ones here right now would give me numbers like "I don't want to!" and spit up.

As a consolation prize to all of you who entered and didn't win, here is a picture of me circa 1989 when I knew Marcy. I went from sweet mullet to rad perm. With bangs. And high waisted overalls.

For the record, I started out as a pretty cute kid, if I do say so myself, but then I got hit with a mullet, glasses, and giant grown up teeth all at about the same time. And then began an awkward stage that lasted for such a painfully long time.

Thank you all for the wonderful comments. I feel so warm and fuzzy inside. I mainly write my blog for my own amusement, and to journal the crazy and sweet and poignant in my life, so I'm glad it reaches others, too. Lately I've been seeing new readership on my tracker, so I just wondered who all was out there. I hope to do more giveaways in the future. Keep your fingers crossed that Rosie starts sleeping better, enabling me to be more creative.
If not, you'll just get more crazy. And that can be fun, too.

I Heart You, and thus, a Giveaway!

2012-01-22T14:08:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine recently found this cute tutorial on Pinterest for a beautiful ruffled felt heart shaped wreath. She shared it with me, and I loved it. Then, she went a step bigger and better and braved the lines at Joann's to get me all the necessary supplies to make it. This was super fantastic because it meant that I would actually be able to make it before Valentine's Day. So, I sat down last night and whipped out this beauty in about 2 hours.

After making this wreath, I found I had a couple of tips and some information to add to the original tutorial.

I used a 12" styrofoam heart wreath.
I cut about 150 3 inch circles, and used up my entire 3/4 yard of felt.
This means you'll need at least 150 pins. I bent several of them while I was assembling my wreath, so I was glad I had extra.
I bought flat head pins in case the heads showed, but they don't show at all. I'm sure you could use round head pins, and they wouldn't hurt your fingers so much when you push them in. I quickly started using my leather thimble to protect my fingertips. Now I'm trying to convince my daughters that the thimble is a tool, not a finger puppet.
Instead of tracing 150 circles onto the felt, I cut one circle out of craft foam, then held it in place as a pattern on a double layer of felt while I cut. This saved a lot of time, plus I didn't have to be super careful to keep my tracing line from showing when I cut them out.
It's important to place the circles close together, but don't pin them too closely or they'll get crowded quickly. Instead of luscious ruffles, you'll have flat folds of fabric. Space your pins about 1/2 to 1 inch apart. After I had a few inches covered on my wreath, they started looking too dense so I pulled a few of them out and placed them elsewhere.
Fluff the circles to fill in any thin areas.
Hang it on your front door, then keep going outside to admire how cute it is.

When I was finished, I found I had a large pile of concave square pieces of felt, the scraps from between the circles. I also had a spare 9 inch foam heart, so I decided to put those pieces to use. I call this little guy Scrappy. He reminds me of flames of love, and I think he's charming.
If you decide to recycle your scraps like me, I would recommend using flat head pins. They are more likely to show since your pieces of felt are smaller and more randomly shaped. I did end up cutting some most of my scraps of felt into appropriate pointy shapes to fill out this wreath. As with the circles on the first wreath, I folded the pieces into fourths before pinning them on the heart.

And I've decided to do something fun with it. I'm going to host my first giveaway on this blog I'm going to give Scrappy to one of the six of you reading this. Leave me a comment telling me why you read my blog, and I will randomly pick a winner from the comments. The giveaway will be open until Wednesday, January 25, 6pm pst. Good luck!

Fever

2012-01-20T08:49:00.000-08:00

When I was 8, my family moved to Whitehall, Wisconsin. I'm not surprised you haven't heard of this town. I just checked and the population is about 1600. It was even smaller when I lived there, though I did live there at the same time as Newt Gingrich's current wife, Callista (which I just learned, and isn't really a claim to fame). Every year, the high school cheerleaders would host a cheer-leading camp for the elementary school girls, at the end of which the girls would get to cheer at a high school basketball game. In an attempt to help me make friends, and not because I showed any aptitude toward cheering, my mom signed me up.

Having not yet learned that thick-legged, uncoordinated girls do not the best cheerleaders make, I was thrilled. I enthusiastically learned the routine to "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" (which also initiated my love of George Michael). I diligently scrunched my cheap little pom-poms in an effort to make them as big and beautiful as the big girls' pom-poms. And I put on my best approximation of the high school girls' uniforms. We were the Vikings, and our colors were black and orange. I had a black leotard. And I had some red shorts that fell slightly into the orange spectrum. There were all I had, and if you looked at them in the sun, they would work.

The night of the big game, I proudly arrived at the school, only to learn that the rival team's color was red. By the time I marched out onto the basketball court, I had been teased so much by the other girls that I was sure all eyes were on me and my embarrassment of an outfit.

Undeterred, the next year I signed up for the clinic again. This year as I diligently practiced, my mom diligently sewed. She was determined that I wouldn't suffer the same humiliation again, and made me a fabulous cheer-leading outfit while juggling the demands of six kids, including a small baby. I don't even know how she got the fabric given how small our town was and the pre-existence of the internets. It was orange, with black godets and our viking logo embroidered in black on the front. And it was awesome. I tried it on as often as I could in the days leading up to the game.

The morning of the big day I woke up hot. And I'm not talking hot like in this picture. I'm talking hot as in fever. Though my mom had a strict rule about not sending us to school with fevers, if I didn't go to school that day, I couldn't cheer. I was heartbroken, and I'm sure my mom was, too. Since it was a low grade fever, and I had no other symptoms, my mom decided to let me go to school and keep her fingers crossed that I would be fine.

I got home from school that day, excited to cheer that night. Unfortunately, my mom had been on the phone that day and learned that the chicken pox was going around. How did you know if you had it? A low grade fever. My mom checked, and found the first few pox hiding around my hairline. I wasn't able to cheer that night. I'm sure it wasn't out of spite over not being able to wear my fantastic outfit, but I diligently infected all 5 of my siblings, including my 6 month old sister. Thankfully, she was young enough that the scars she got when another sibling picked all of her scabs off don't show.

I still got a lot of wear out of that outfit, accessorizing it with legwarmers, heels and a rainbow belt. And yes, I did have a mullet to top it off. Though I rocked it (see above), I never forgot the injustice of not being able to wear it and perform that night. It was my first clear experience with irony.

Chloe's birthday is July 2, so she never gets to celebrate her birthday at school. And unfortunately, her half birthday is January 2, usually the last day of Christmas vacation. Still, she wants to be able to celebrate her half birthday at school on whatever the closest school day is. This year, for whatever reason, I just couldn't get my act together. Weeks had passed and I still hadn't gotten a treat together. Finally, yesterday, I decided it was time. Chloe and I baked cookies. I found my last sheet of labels and printed up tags for the ziploc bags we'd put the cookies in. Nothing fancy, but it was enough for her to feel special.

And then she coughed. A rattling, painful cough. And confessed that her throat had been hurting all day. I cringed, and hoped it was just the change in the weather. I checked on her last night, running the temporal thermometer across her forehead. Fever. As she whimpered and rolled over, I said a silent prayer that she was just hot in her blankets and she would be fine.

This morning I went in to wake her, thermometer in hand. She sat up in bed and said, "Mom, my throat hurt, but I coughed and now I feel fine! I'm better!" But her eyes were too bright and her cheeks too red, and when I scanned her forehead, her fever was even higher. It broke my heart to tell her she had to stay home. "But I was so excited to share my treat today!" she said as her eyes filled with tears. I assured her that we could put the cookies in the freezer and she could bring them when she felt better, and she smiled.

I'm so glad there's such an easy fix for her fever crisis. Her gratification with be postponed, not cancelled. I just hope my mom, who passed away 12 years ago this month, knows how grateful I still am for that cheer-leading costume I never got to cheer in.

It's my potty and I'll cry if I want to

2012-01-11T20:35:00.001-08:00

As a mom, I've found there are three very important keys to a successful outing with kids.

Make sure they are well rested
Make sure to bring plenty of snacks
Make them use the bathroom before leaving the house and at every convenient interval thereafter, whether they think they have to go or not. And especially if they insist they don't need to go.

These rules are not just for kids, but for dads and moms and aunts and anyone else on the outing. And they are especially important when all of your children are female and require an actual toilet to relieve themselves.

I recently was very, very pregnant, and therefore had to use the bathroom quite often. Pretty much every time I left the bathroom I needed to turn around and go back in. After my baby girl arrived I was overjoyed to have my bladder return to its former capacity. And I got cocky. One super busy day I failed to adhere to rule #3 and found myself stranded on the freeway behind a car accident trying very hard to not think about the fact that I hadn't used the bathroom in 8 hours. I recommitted to stick to rule #3 in the future.

My little sister came out to visit after Christmas and we decided to take a trip to the city. We rode BART into San Francisco with all the kids. We explored Union Square, then rode the trolley down to Fisherman's Wharf. I kept the children fed and pottied (though they continually complained, through mouths full of food, that they were starving). We had a delicious lunch, then wandered over to look at the seals on Pier 39. As we headed back toward the Musee Mechanique, we passed the fully automated, free standing bathrooms. I've always given them a wide berth, not fully understanding how they worked and fearing for their cleanliness. However, this time, despite the hordes of holiday crowds, there was no line. As I realized that it was time for a potty break, and this was our best option in the area, I decided to give it a try.

I pushed the button on the wall, and the mechanical door slid open. Leaving Maggie with my sister, with Rosie strapped to my chest in her carrier, Chloe, Addie and I entered the bathroom. It was very clean, and full of all sorts of buttons, ones to open the door and turn on the water, and a kickplate to open the door for those who prefer not to touch the buttons. However, after Chloe relieved herself, I realized there was no button to flush the toilet--it would only flush after the room had been vacated. (Cue ominous music) Since we were already in, I had Addie go. Then, remembering rule #3, I also decided to use the bathroom.

Perhaps it's better that you don't know this wasn't the first time I had used the bathroom with my baby attached to me, but I figured this was my best option for the moment. And I have often shared a stall with my girls, though every time it's a race to get my pants back up before they decide it's time to unlock the door. As I quickly did my business, the girls started getting restless. Chloe started dancing around. I watched in horror as her foot, seemingly in slow motion, banged into the kickplate. Frozen in terror, I was helpless to stop the large door from sliding open, exposing me, quite literally, to the crowd that had gathered to wait for the bathroom.

Time stopped. I aged several years as we tried to locate a button that would close the door before discovering there was no button that would close the door. The only way to close the door was to get off the pressure sensitive floor, which could only be accomplished by leaving the bathroom. And I was literally caught with my pants down. The line of people politely backed away, out of sight. I called to my sister and had her move my double stroller in front of the door to give me a little bit of a shield. And I thanked my lucky stars that I had chosen the bathroom that faced the ocean, and not the one that faced the street.

As quickly and discreetly as I could, I got my pants up and got out of there. One of the people waiting, another mom, commented on how calm I was. She said, "I would have been screaming at my daughter." Oh, I was definitely screaming inside, but I didn't want to do it out loud because I really didn't want to attract more attention. So I laughed. This was the sort of thing that could only happen to a mom, and because I've been a mom for some time now, it hardly even phased me. Easily the most embarrassing moment of my life? Yes. But was it something that in future years I would look back on and laugh about? Yes and no. Because I really couldn't do anything but laugh about it right then. It was hilarious.

Not that I want to repeat the experience anytime soon.

My Crazy

2011-12-11T18:46:00.000-08:00

And no, I'm not referring to this little grinner as "my crazy."

For the record, I come by my crazy totally honestly. My sister got married in October of 1999. My mother had been battling stiff-person syndrome for 13 years and was nearing the end of her fight. She stayed in the hospital up until a few days before my sister's wedding so she could be as healthy and stable as possible for the big day. For months leading up to the wedding, she sat in her hospital bed with all her candy making tools on the bedside table, making chocolate cups for the wedding reception. She also needed to make the wedding cake when she came home. Had she ever made a wedding cake before? No. But that didn't slow my crippled mother down in the least. And the cake she made was in the shape of the Mt. Timpanogos t emple. With stained glass windows. My mother passed away less than 3 months later. She was literally dying and continued to make things seemingly beyond her skill set simply because, as she had once said while contemplating the construction of her first (and only) man's suit, "I think I can do that."

Forward 13 years to yesterday. Our ward had announced that there would be a gingerbread house competition at the annual Christmas party. There would be categories for children, youth and adults. Now, we make a house every year. I've posted instructions as to how we do it. I've often made gingerbread for more than one house a year, but only because we've often hosted gingerbread house parties. We've never made more than one for ourselves. But I heard the word "competition" and my crazy went into overdrive.

I had hoped to get the gingerbread made before Saturday. But I ended up doing an arrangement for a funeral, and making a shepherd/Jedi robe for a nativity play, attending a Christmas party back in Citrus Heights, and oh yeah, taking care of a cute little 6 week old girl and 3 other children. And so, Saturday morning I started making gingerbread. I put together a house for the girls, then completely stepped away as they decorated. I did this so I could, one, get the pattern for my house printed and enlarged, and two, so they could have complete creative control without my control freak tendencies stepping in. It kind of was a mistake to stay so far out of it. I put out a lot of candy for them to use, and very little ended up on the house. Whoops.

The little "garden" out front was Chloe's pride and joy.

Then I started making my house. I used a pattern from a book, not realizing quite how large the finished product would be when I started. It was easily 4 times as large, and 4 times as complicated as anything I have made before. But I said to myself, "I think I can do that." 3 batches of gingerbread later, I finally had all the pieces baked, complete with stained glass windows. I kept those sheets of gingerbread moving in and out of the oven as fast as I could, watching the minutes ticking away, realizing there was no way I could get this done in the time I had left. I ignored my sad baby who really wanted Mom and not Dad. I started to sweat. And yet I pushed on because I was too invested to give up. A piece broke as I started to assemble the house. I baked a new one. I got all the walls together and the house standing. I hurriedly decorated walls.

And then I put the roof on. I realized as I placed the second roof piece that it was slightly undercooked. But I had no time to make a new one. I've never lost a piece of gingerbread yet, and trusted that even if it was a little soft, it would still work. I added extra icing, and started to decorate. Then the back slid off, and the front started to collapse. I pushed the back up, and enlisted Bracken to hold it and my baby while I finished the final details. 15 minutes after the party started, I threw on some clothes, tied my hair into a bun and loaded everything and everyone into the car. As we drove, I touched up the makeup I was still wearing from the night before. And listened as the roof of my house fell apart in the back of my van.

We arrived at the party, and I jumped out of the car to survey the damage. The front of the roof was in pieces, but had conveniently crumbled inside the house. The back had slid completely off, and cracked down the middle. I debated whether I should bring it in. I also apologized to my husband for all the chaos the creation of this behemoth had caused. Ultimately, I decided to display it, adding a note that "heavy snow" had caused the cave in. I was more than a little embarrassed, but decided that I was illustrating the idea that it is better to try and fail than to never try at all. I happily cheered for my daughters when their entry won first prize in the children's category. I was shocked when my entry won in the adult category. I'm not sure if I won out of pity, or just for the sheer size of the monster. Maybe the judges were afraid of the lingering crazy they could see in my eyes.

As we drove home, I attempted to tell Bracken a joke about how tired I was. Halfway through, I stopped because it really wasn't funny, and I couldn't remember how I was going to end it. When we got home and got all the girls down, I collapsed into bed. I was wakened in the night by the cold I had been fighting rearing its ugly head. I managed to get a little more rest, but when Rosie got up to eat at 5, I couldn't get back to sleep. Instead I got up, made another batch of gingerbread, and reassembled the roof, decorating it with candy I had salvaged from the original. I also made muffins, cleaned the kitchen a bit, and cut up some fruit (to help remedy the damage wrought by unsupervised candy gorging). Because I am crazy. And now, for the rest of the holiday season, I will be able to look at the physical evidence of my craziness.

In actuality, though, I am kind of grateful for this episode of crazy. Truth be told, the creative crazy had been completely absent throughout my entire pregnancy, and I was a little worried that it was gone for good. Though I sometimes struggle to recognize my limits, and my projects get a little out of control, I love creating and making and having projects to do. So, welcome home, Crazy. You have been missed.

I'm pretty sure the little Rapunzel doll she's holding will find her way into the house before the holiday is over.

Lately

2011-11-22T10:28:00.000-08:00

Deep thoughts from Chloe

On tears: Mom, I might cry a little, but it's not because I want to go to bed. It's just my hot cocoa is so hot.

On jealousy and Rosie: I think she looks sad because she thinks you're going to get mad at her because she winked at me and not you.

On obesity, after I told her to stop eating candy: But why, Mom?
Me: Because eating too much is unhealthy.
Chloe: And it can make you fat. But you wouldn't make fun of me if I was fat.

Dramatics from Addie

When her sister refused to kiss her: I just want to live in a world where people love me!

When I insisted she eat her dinner: I have a ridiculous life, I just want to die!

When she couldn't play with the toy she wanted: I just don't feel special. I don't want to live here anymore. (And then she went and opened the front door. I talked her back into the house, mainly because I knew I didn't have the energy to find her later.)

When I insisted she take a nap today: I don't want you to be my mother anymore.

Performance art from Napoleon Maggie-mite
(who refuses to acknowledge the existence of any other shoes in her closet)

I guess she wanted to listen to the sound of crunchy autumn leaves.
I asked her to change her pullup, but didn't follow through to make sure she did. I had no idea her pajamas had such wicking power.

Rosie's birth story

2011-11-06T10:52:00.000-08:00

I need to get this written down before I forget, since it's already becoming a blur. This may get a little long, but that's because it's mainly for me, and Rosie.

Our little girl was due to arrive on 14 October. Given the fact that I was induced with all three of the other girls, I really didn't expect her to come on her own. But I had a little bit of hope, mainly because I just really wanted to feel what it was like to go into labor on my own. I also was nervous about being induced this time.

The day after my 20 week ultrasound, I got a phone call from the genetics department at the hospital. During the ultrasound, they had found that my umbilical cord only had one artery, instead of the two it was supposed to have. Single Umbilical Artery (SUA) is a fairly common condition, but is often accompanied by other birth defects, so they needed me to come back in for an additional, more thorough ultrasound to make sure everything was okay. Two days before our move, when I was already more than a little stressed, I went back in for another ultrasound. Thankfully, everything looked fine. I had also opted to do the additional genetic testing with this pregnancy, which I had opted out of with the previous ones, and all those test results looked normal as well.

Me at 41 weeks. The shirt was a gift from my sister and reads "Pregnant is the new sexy." I was definitely feeling it.

However, this reminded me that there had been an issue with Maggie's umbilical cord, so I called my previous doctor to find out exactly what it was. After Maggie was born, and they were examining my placenta, they discovered that there was a velamentous cord insertion. This means that rather than the cord inserting into the middle of the placenta, the cord inserted on the edge. The cord is then less protected and more prone to damage, and possibly hemorrhage. Everything is usually fine, but when I read that there is an increased risk of velamentous insertion with SUA , that sometimes the cord can get snagged if your water is broken by the doctor, it made me nervous. And then I googled more, which is very unwise, and learned that the medications often used in induction, particularly when ripening the cervix, can negatively impact a baby with SUA. Although generally I felt like things were going to be fine with this little girl, these other worries kept nagging me, particularly as I got closer to my due date.

That is a big belly.

My due date came and went without any action on my part. I was having contractions here and there, and my cervix was still a 1. My insurance provider's policy is to not induce before 41 weeks, so I was grateful (though nervous) when I was able to schedule my induction for 41 weeks and one day. Not that that made the time pass any more quickly. As the week wore on, my mood declined. I started avoiding leaving the house because I was tired of answering people's questions about when my baby was due. Then I found out there was a good chance the hospital would be full on Saturday, and I might not be able to come in that day. I was supposed to call the hospital at 5, and was very relieved when I got a call at 2 inviting me to come into a different hospital at 4. I didn't care where I had this girl, just as long as I had her.

We ran a few errands, loaded up the car, and drove to Antioch. This was actually a newer and nicer hospital, though just a little further away. They admitted us right away. We had brought all the girls with us, and they were sure excited and interested in everything going on. The nurse got my IV started immediately. She did a great job, but it was very stressful for Addie to see me getting poked. Even the next day when she came to visit, Addie was still very concerned about my IV. The midwife checked my cervix and decided it looked favorable enough to start the pitocin without having to ripen my cervix first. This was a big change from my previous inductions. Typically, they insert a misoprostyl pill, which I respond very well to, but it's at least 6 hours before they can actually start the pitocin. So, not only did my induction get started faster, but my worries about the medications used in the induction were lightened.Bracken left and brought the girls to our generous friends who kept them overnight. I got started on the pit, and my contractions started right away. Bracken returned and we played card games while my contractions intensified. At about 10:00, my water broke on its own. I've never felt that sensation before. It was another huge relief to me that it broke by itself. They checked my cervix shortly thereafter and found I was about a 5, and since the pain was getting pretty intense, I asked for my epidural.

As always, the longest part of labor was the amount of time between when I asked for the epidural and when the anesthesiologist actually arrived. But once she finally got there, it was the fastest, smoothest epidural I've gotten. Once it kicked in, my whole body relaxed. In fact, when they checked my an hour later, I had dilated from a 6 to a 9. 30 minutes later, I was complete. I started pushing at 1:40, and things moved quickly. I got to reach down and feel her head as she crowned. At 1:54 am on 23 October 2011, Miss Rosemary Ruth Mannion arrived.And that's when things got a little interesting. I remember sitting in a birthing class back in 2005, eight months pregnant with Chloe. I raised my hand and asked, because it had been weighing heavily on me, "How often are babies born with the cord around their necks?" The instructor quickly replied, "Not very often. It's nothing to worry about." Well, 4 births and 3 cords around the neck later, I do know that it is nothing to really worry about, but it does happen often! Rosie had the cord around her neck, but it hadn't tightened. She got an 8 on her first Apgar, and a 9 on her second. And it turns out, the cord was slightly velamentous again. It's a good thing I'm not planning on making any more umbilical cords because I am not good at it! Either that or I'm just too creative at it.

Then they weighed her. Because of the SUA, I'd had an extra ultrasound to monitor Rosie's growth. Though everything looked fine at the 21 week ultrasound, there is still a concern with SUA babies and fetal growth restriction. At 30 weeks, she was right on target for size. My other babies all weighed within 2 ounces of each other, and I gained about the same amount of weight, so I thought it would be pretty obvious if her growth had been affected. As always, I laughed when the midwife checked my belly and told me she thought the baby would be about 7, 7 1/2 pounds, but definitely nowhere near 8 1/2 pounds because that is what I have been told every single time. But still, I wondered. When they finally weighed Rosie, about 2 hours after she was born, she was 8 pounds, 11.5 ounces, and 20 inches long. My heaviest baby by 3.5 ounces. Take that, SUA. We beat you on every front (knock on wood). The nurses kept commenting on how big she was, but she still looked tiny to me.The most dramatic part of the delivery, though, was what went on in those two hours between when she was born and when Rosie was finally cleaned and weighed. Though I only had a first degree tear this time, for some reason, I started hemorrhaging after Rosie was born. I had to have extra medication, and some extra procedures from the midwife to get it to stop. All the nurses and midwife kept blaming it on the fact that I'm a redhead, but it's never happened to me before. Is it because I've given in and started dyeing my hair redder? I really don't know. Thankfully, the bleeding did stop after I'd lost about 3 pints of blood. I felt awfully calm throughout the whole process. Maybe I was just super tired, or maybe the whole process was just surreal because it was so much shorter than my other labors (only 8 hours!), but I was peaceful during the drama. Given how short my labor was after I finally got the epidural (only about 2 hours), I've wondered if I really needed it. However, I know it did speed my labor up, and the more I reflect on everything that went on after the birth, I'm glad I had that buffer against the pain in place, because otherwise it would have been rather rough.
We are so glad Miss Rosemary Ruth is here. She is named for Bracken's aunt, and for me, obviously. Since our daughters' hair has gotten progressively lighter with each one, it seems fitting that thus far she seems to be blonde with a hint of red. I was actually hoping for a blondie this time, and Chloe had been praying very earnestly for a "yellow-head." Her eyes seem to be blue, but I won't put any money on it until she's at least a year old. What I do know is that we love our little girl and know our family wouldn't have been complete without her.

Things I love about my newborn

2011-10-28T20:05:00.001-07:00

Since I know this is our final baby, I've been noticing more of the little things that make newborns so entrancing, and savoring the little moments with Rosie. Some of my favorites are

When she caught onto the whole nursing thing, and suddenly started opening her mouth as wide as she could to latch on, pretty much whenever she wasn't already actively nursing.

The way she starts rooting at my arm if I don't get the nipple there fast enough.
How her eyes dart back and forth as she latches on, like she's found the most wonderful thing in the world and is afraid someone might take it from her.
The way her lips purse and sometimes pop when I remove her sleepy head from the nipple.
The fur! Heaven help me, the fuzz on her ears and shoulders just kills me.
The various grunts and grimaces and awkward faces she makes as she goes about the business of being a baby. And she snores.
The wonderful smiles in her sleep, that even sqwunch up her eyes. I can't wait until she smiles those smiles awake.
Her delicious smell, and her yummy skin.
The forehead wrinkles.
How she doesn't build to a full cry, just suddenly lets loose with an ear piercing squawk.
The way she gazes at me, just trying to figure it all out.
The bobbly head
The spastic arms
The sweetness she brings that attracts everyone in the house to her.
And I really love how every one of my babies has looked so familiar to me the moment they are born. We try to analyze it, say they look like so and so, but each girl really just looks like herself. I think they are familiar because they are mine and always have been.

I'm sure there will be many more things to add to this list, but rest assured, this little one is adored. We are so glad she's here.

A Guide to Your Feelings

2011-10-07T09:03:00.000-07:00

Today I am 39 weeks pregnant. This means I look kind of like this--

Only with more belly, less makeup, and stretchy pants. This also means that within the next couple of weeks, I will be sitting in a hospital bed, starting the final countdown for my baby. Chances are very high that I will again be induced, and will be debating whether I am in enough pain and grumpiness to justify an epidural yet. I may even be forced to stare at the chart below in order to figure out just how much discomfort I am in.
Or maybe I won't. Chloe was preparing a talk for church recently, and conveniently happened to draw up some very helpful Emotion Identification pictures for me. And a brief disclaimer--obviously we were very on top of that whole "kids lose several months of education over summer vacation" thing. I guess we should have spent a little less time breaking in the cable TV and a little more time practicing writing. But the pictures--the pictures are very helpful.

Happy

Sad

Mad

And my personal, most favorite,
Cinduv
or for those who spell traditionally,
Kind Of

I feel like I've been in Cinduv for quite a while now. I'm mostly ready for this little one to arrive, but I also realize they are much more work outside than in. However, I've reached the point where my general pregnancy malaise and lack of motivation also includes random contractions and sleeplessness, so it would be nice to feel like myself again. I've kind of missed me.

On Breastfeeding (and I will be discussing nipples, graphically)

2011-09-21T09:09:00.001-07:00

Me, on the Haunted Mansion ride at Disneyland, informing Bracken that this is not the best time to take a picture of all the girls.

Since I am due to have a baby in about 3 weeks, many things are on my mind. One of my random google searches was for preparing my nipples (and we're off) for breastfeeding. Since this is my fourth child, I have, of course, nursed before, but I was curious if there was any new information out there. The answer is no, but once again, I was completely angered at the misinformation most of the breastfeeding advocates put out there.

Don't get me wrong--I am pro-breastfeeding. I have spent three full years of my life nursing 3 different children and plan to spend another year at least doing the same for this new one. I support the right of women to nurse their babies whenever and wherever they see fit, though I also advocate being considerate of those around you (and I'm mainly talking about teenage boys here, though I have been oogled by a 7 year old). I tend to nurse covered myself unless I am only around other mothers and children. I also find that once my babies are old enough to start moving around a lot on their own, it's not really effective to try to nurse in a public place. It's just too distracting for them.

And here I'll confess something. I get the stigma about public breastfeeding. Despite all the time I've spent with a baby at my breast, when I am not lactating, I have often found breastfeeding creepy. I have caught myself looking at a 9 month old and thinking, "That baby is way too old to still be nursing," when I have nursed all my babies far longer than that. Hypocritical and prudish, I know. What I don't know is where that knee jerk reaction comes from.

I also try not to judge those who don't breastfeed. It's a very personal choice, and there are a lot of factors in why a woman will or will not breastfeed. I personally have had a very easy time of it, and I recognize that. I'm a stay at home mom, my milk comes in on time, I make enough but not extra, I have very rarely been engorged and I've never had an infection. I'm not going to go into all the scientific reasons why breast is best because even though I know it's been proven to be the healthiest choice, I also don't feel that giving your baby formula is equal to filling their bottles with soda. I also know I've saved a lot of money with all the formula and bottles I haven't had to buy. That said, I had two babies who completely refused the bottle, so I really had no other choice. The one child who would take a bottle weaned herself the earliest.

But here's where I have my real issue with the nursing nazis. As I visited half a dozen different breastfeeding sites, I found they all told the same lie. "Nursing will not hurt if you are doing it correctly." That is a steaming pile of poop. Sure, after a month or so, once you're used to it and your milk supply has regulated, nursing shouldn't hurt. But no matter how good your latch is, no matter how many times you switch positions, no matter that you follow every rule in the book, THE FIRST TWO WEEKS WILL HURT LIKE HELL.

Yeah, I said it. Your poor nipples have never been though abuse like this, unless it was the last time you nursed, and since then the callouses have worn off. It will start out fine, and the baby will latch on in the hospital, and maybe you'll have the lactation consultant come in and help you out a little and you'll feel like you've got it all under control, and they will send you home.

And that's when it really starts. Your nipples will start to feel uncomfortable, and then they'll get a little blistered looking. Then they will scab, scabs that will be loosened or pulled off with every feeding session. Every time your baby latches on your feet will lift from the floor as you attempt to silence the screams building up inside. If your husband tries to talk to you while your baby latches on, you will have to control the urge to punch him in the throat. And your baby will be latching on constantly, because they seriously do nothing but eat and sleep and poop, and often all three at the same time. But in about two weeks, your nipples will have become leathery, the scabs will have fallen off, and with great surprise you will realize that the tear trickling from your eye as you feed your baby is from love and not because your breast feels like it is on fire.

I seriously wonder how many moms give up too early on breastfeeding because they think they are doing it wrong, because they have been told it will not hurt at all. I'm sure it takes longer than two weeks for some people, and maybe there are some miraculous people out there who can escape that two week window of hell. For the majority of women, though, I know it's going to be a rocky start. I promise you, in most cases, it will get better. So much better. And you will look down at your sweet little baby, milk drunk and grinning in her sleep, and realize these are some of the best moments you will have with her.

So I encourage you novices to endure, and I thought I'd share a few of the products that have helped me the most.

Lanolin cream-- I have always used Lansinoh brand, but as long as you get something thick and protective, I'm sure it will work. I will usually start applying it to my nipples about a month in advance, just so I feel like I'm doing something, but where it really comes in handy is once baby arrives. It's safe for baby's consumption, so apply it to your nipples after every feeding and it will aid them in healing, protect them and keep those fresh scabs from sticking to the inside of your bra. And don't even think about stepping in the shower without putting a thick layer on. Trust me.
Post Partum support belt-- I bought my first one of these before I had Maggie. Amazing. Not only was I wearing normal pants a couple days after childbirth, and didn't look like I was still pregnant, but it kept all my jiggly bits contained every time I had to lift my shirt to feed her again. And even better, when I was wearing it, I didn't feel a single after pain. If you don't know, after pains are bonus contractions you have for a few days after the baby is born as your uterus tries to shrink back down. You probably won't feel them with your first, but if it's your second or later, it's like a punch to the gut every time your baby nurses. I have this support belt, but there are other, cheaper options out there I haven't tried. Mine did run large--in clothing I usually wear a large, and the medium belt was the only size I needed.
Breast pads-- I'll confess, I'm not much of a leaker so I don't usually end up with those nice wet spots on the front of my shirt that many new moms have. But for the times when I am full, I do love these Lily Padz. They are not absorbent, but they compress your nipples so they don't get a chance to leak. Be warned, though, if you are a big milk producer I've heard they don't work so well. Where I really love them, though, is on days when I'm wearing a thinner bra and a snugger shirt and I don't want to look like I'm smuggling grapes (because nursing nipples definitely are beyond the scope of raisin smuggling), these discreetly smooth you right out.
Nursing shirts-- I just bought some of these half-tee's to wear with maxi dresses and other shirts that are easier to access from the top. Obviously, I haven't actually used them for nursing yet, but I'm thinking they'll be great for those times when I don't actually want to lift my entire shirt up.
Neck pillow-- There will be a lot of nights, and days, when you just want to sleep through feedings. A supportive pillow for your head helps a lot.
Baby support pillow-- A Boppy, or a Breast friend (If you can say it without laughing) is very handy for supporting baby, especially post caesarian. I've only had a Boppy, and it continues to come in handy for tummy time, and practicing sitting and stuff.
A sleep bra-- Nothing is worse than waking up from your precious moments of sleep because your very full and unsupported breasts are throbbing in pain and leaking all over your sheets.
Special K lips-- My first lactation consultant told me this--that my baby's lips should look like the Special K "K" when she latches on. This advice has never done me wrong.
A good place to sit.
A spouse who will get up and change the baby and bring her to you in bed. And maybe change her again after the feeding.

And now I'll get off my soapbox. I just needed to get that off my chest before my chest is consumed with more pressing matters. Breast of luck! Anyone else have any good ideas to share?

(None of these brands know me, I'm just sharing what has worked.)

Awesome Zucchini Carrot Muffins

2011-09-21T08:35:00.000-07:00

I picked this recipe up last year when we were driving through South Lake Tahoe. We stopped at this place that looked like a total hole in the wall, but was actually quite a fancy little soup place. They had this recipe on the counter, and I thought it looked quite tasty. I did modify it a little, adding salt for instance (Baking without salt? Come on! Don't the 4 cups of fruits and vegetables in the recipe make it healthy enough?). These muffins are incredibly tasty, have really good texture, and are perfect for using your end of season garden harvest.

Zucchini Carrot Muffins

2 cups carrots, finely shredded
1 cup zucchini, finely shredded
1 cup apples, peeled and chopped
3/4 cup flaked or shredded coconut
1/2 cup chopped almonds
2 teaspoons orange zest (or 1/2 t. orange extract)
2 cups flour
1 1/4 cups sugar
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
3 eggs, lightly beaten
3/4 cup vegetable oil
1 teaspoon vanilla

Gently toss together carrot, zucchini, apple, coconut, almonds and orange peel. Set aside.
In a large bowl, combine flour, sugar, cinnamon, baking soda, baking powder and salt.
In a separate bowl, combine eggs, oil and vanilla. Stir into dry ingredients until just combine. Batter will be very thick. Stir in carrot mixture.
Fill greased or paper lined muffin cups 2/3 full. Bake at 375 for 20-22 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean.
Cool in pan 10 minutes before removing to wire rack.

So simple, so yummy, and healthy. But just remember, if you get to work early one morning and make these with your preschooler for her class snack, don't include the nuts. Otherwise, when you pick her up later, you will feel really stupid when the full container is returned to you and your disappointed preschooler, and you might even burst into uncontrollable, embarrassing, pregnancy tears. Not that I would know from experience or anything.

English As She Is Spoke, by Addie

2011-09-09T10:28:00.000-07:00

A long time ago, I read about a book titled "English As She Is Spoke" According to Wikipedia, it "was intended as a Portuguese-English conversational guide or phrase book, but is regarded as a classic source of unintentional humour, as the given English translations are generally completely incoherent." I have thought of this book often since I have been a mother. Sometimes I'm not sure English is my children's first language. However, while Chloe and Maggie have thus far been content to adapt pronunciations to suit their own needs, Addie prefers to completely create new words out of the ether. Sometimes I can figure out a definition, but not always. Here are a few of my favorites:

Toring. This refers to being moved back and forth, like on a sharp turn in the car. "Mom! Stop toring me!"
Crinky. I think this means dirty and uncomfortable. "Mom, my bum is crinky." (We're working on wiping better.)
Blurking. As in, "Mom! Maggie's blurking at me!" I'm not sure what this means exactly, but it's obviously worthy of a tattle.
Also in common usage for a while were Smaking (with a long "a"), Crunking, Blurping and Porping. No clue what they mean, but if someone did them to Addie, I heard about it.

Lately, Addie has moved on to longer words. At least four syllables. These words typically only get used once or twice, but hey, if you need the right word for a certain situation, you need the right word. They include such winners as Expitating, Conferating, and Flusterated. Flusterated actually makes perfect sense to me.

Wow, what a . . . smile? The dead tooth in the front really makes it pop. Oh, Addie girl, you do make me laugh. And shake my head. As Addie once said to Maggie, "You get what you get and you don't get upset. And many moooorrreee!!"

I'll let her dance you out.

A language guide for understanding Miss Maggie

2011-09-09T09:47:00.000-07:00

Our little Maggie Moo is quite the little talker, and always has a lot to say. And like her sisters before her, she plays pretty fast and loose with the English language to better suit her needs. For instance, she likes to make one pronunciation work for multiple words. For instance:

Muggie might mean Maggie, or monkey, or occasionally Mommy.
If she asks for a boo bup, you have to follow up with additional questions to determine if she's asking for a flip-flop or a pull-up. Do not confuse the two.
Woda is either Soda, or Yoda, who we talk about more than you would expect. I guess they both have sparkling personalities? (I'll be here all week.)
And the very worst offender is, "Naaaaah." If you ask any Maggie any yes or no question, the answer is usually, "Naaaah." Which sometimes means no and sometimes means yes. So you have to ask a follow up, "No or Yes?" to which she will respond with a definite no or yes. It is more than a little frustrating at times, though I have noticed that the longer the "naaaaaah" goes on, the more likely it is to be yes. But not always.

She has a lot of other little phrases she uses that I love. Such as:

"By my wose," which means, "By my self." I'm not sure how self morphed into wose, but there it is. In general, Maggie does have a tendency to substitute the "s" at beginnings of words with a "w," so there is that, but wose? Whatever. It's super cute.
The phrase, "By my wose," is often followed by, "I need Pie-a-see!" I actually love this combination of phrases because it means someone is going poop on the potty, and there are few things in the parenting of a two year old better than that. She isn't making it to the potty for all of her pee-pee yet, but 99% of the poop is in the toilet, and that is just fine by me.
"Ah-Oh, Dabetti-oh," is pretty darn cute when she makes a mess.
She loves to sing "I Am a Child of God," but mainly just the "Weed me, died me" (Lead me, guide me) part. She also is a big fan of singing, "What's gonna work? TEAM WORK!" over and over again. She's only seen the Wonder Pets a couple of times, but obviously it made an impression.

Finally, Maggie is not a fan of adjectives, at least when used to describe her. I'll ask, "How did you get so cute?" Response? "I not cute, I Maggie!" in the same vein, she will get angry if called any other name than Maggie. Margaret Melissa--who is that? Also, do not call her a baby. As far as she is concerned, she is just as grown up as her sisters. Thankfully, though, she is still small enough to love and cuddle on as much as I want. She really is the best cuddler I've had.

And one more super cute thing about Maggie. Whenever she sits or lays down, she always crosses her ankles. It kind of kills me.

All right. Enough. I'll let her dance you out to close this blog post.

Questions I can't answer

2011-08-24T16:40:00.000-07:00

Why aren't there arm restraints for children in shopping carts?
Why are store aisles so narrow?
Why do I let my children convince me to get the plus sized shopping cart that seats three and is about four miles long, every time?
If I accidentally injure a store employee while trying to maneuver my gargantuan cart down a miniscule aisle, while attempting to prevent little hands from stripping every item they can reach off the shelf, is it really my fault?
Why is the alarm button on the elevator always right at toddler level?
Why are the hairs that grow out of moles so disturbing and wrong?
Why do I have one of those moles on my face?
Why can't my children wait for me to finish pulling my pants up before opening the door in a public restroom?
Why do my child's diapers sometimes smell like cat poop even though, to my knowledge, she has never eaten cat food?
Why does another child feel it's her personal duty to do her doodie in every public restroom we visit?
How can my children completely thrash a perfectly clean living room in the time it takes me to walk into the kitchen?
Why, when I am the least physically capable of doing physical labor, do all the things I need to do in a day involve physical labor?
Where do I find a doll who's hair doesn't immediately turn into cotton candy mess as soon as my children open the package? Was doll hair that much better when I was a child? (When I was nine I had a really cheap set of wigs to put on my Barbies. They were all short and curly, and I used to plop them on top of my Western Barbie's long hair to make her look like Dolly Parton. Barbie wig mullets. True story).
Should I put my short wig on top of my long hair and rock a killer mullet for Halloween? I could wear a snug tank top over my super squishy, hopefully postpartum body. Has inspiration just struck?
Will any of my creative energy return once I'm done channeling every ounce of possible inspiration into creating this new little person?
Will I leave the hospital with a child without a name?
Did I really hear my child say a word, twice, during a recent temper tantrum, that she shouldn't say, that I know she learned from me?
What is it about being a vessel for an angelic creature, straight from heaven, that makes me want to curse like a sailor?
What is stuck to the bottom of my foot? I can't see down there.
I have been very grateful that my children wake up early, and that getting them up for school won't be much much of a struggle, but how on earth can I survive not sleeping in until 8?
Why are my recent early morning dreams always accompanied by house/techno music? Is my subconscious attempting to prepare me for the day I'm going to have, or is it merely the most appropriate closing credit music for insane dreams I've been having lately?
Why would a child who has just been injured by another child, keep putting herself within arms reach of the injurer (who is in time out)?
When can I go to bed?

Ketchup and Mustard

2011-08-22T11:33:00.000-07:00

School is starting soon at our house. Chloe will be starting first grade and Addie will be starting preschool. There have been preparations made, including buying new socks and underwear. The girls old unders were looking a bit dingy and worn, and some were rather stained, and they all were snug. The practical part of me considered just passing Chloe's underwear on down to Addie. But then I reconsidered. After all, everyone likes to have new skivvies to wear. And since Addie prefers to wear dresses everyday, people tend to see her underwear a lot.

So now I'm left with a bag full of used girls underwear. And I don't know what to do with them. There is still some life left in them, and there may be a family out there who would benefit from them. I grew up in hand-me-downs, and so have my kids, and I would love to be able to share our excess with someone else. But underwear?

All this pondering of old undies brought up a very specific memory from my childhood. Our family had been given a bag of used clothing. The bag was emptied and sorted into the appropriate genders/sizes. I can't remember what all came in the bag, but I do remember one particular item. It was a pair of boys underwear, red with yellow trim. I remember thinking, "Really? McDonald's themed underwear?" And then I didn't think much more about them. I know I folded them when they came out of the laundry, and that they seemed to need to be folded quite often, but that was it.

Years later I found out that this pair of underwear had been dubbed "Ketchup and Mustard," and were quite the hot ticket amongst my whitey-tightey clad brothers. I know at least two of them would race to laundry and fight over who got to wear them next. At least I hope they waited until they'd been washed to re-wear them. I don't want to think too much about it. All I know is by the time those pants were finally retired, they probably deserved a 21 gun salute. They had done their duty.

None of the recently retired underwear at my house is as colorful or as memorable. I tried posting them for free on craigslist, but immediately my ad got flagged as inappropriate. Really? Who has the dirty mind now? So I guess the panties will just go to Underwear Heaven, if there is such a place. Maybe they will run into Ketchup and Mustard there.

Toast

2011-07-28T12:47:00.000-07:00

This morning, at half past breakfast when my tummy rumblings had started to escalate, I gracelessly heaved myself off the couch and headed to the kitchen. I popped one slice of bread in the toaster for Maggie, and one for Addie. Chloe, preferring her daily breakfast of chocolate shredded wheat, declined. The toast popped up, I buttered and jammed it, cut it into triangles and passed it to the girls. I then put two pieces of bread in the toaster for myself.

No sooner had my toast popped up when I heard, "Mom, I'm done, I want more!" from Addie. Being the noble, self-sacrificing mother that I am (and because I had not yet entered the "I'm going to pass out if I don't eat right now" stage of pregnancy hunger), I passed my first piece off to her. I then prepared the second piece with butter and a generous helping of strawberry freezer jam. As I brought it to my mouth to take my first delicious bite, I heard, "Mom! I done! I want more!" from my littlest daughter. Again, I passed my breakfast to my starving offspring. I sighed, put two more pieces of bread in the toaster, and waited for them to brown.

As soon as they popped up, Addie again asked for more. This time, I declined her request and directed her back to the half eaten apple she had abandoned earlier because it, "Made her tummy hurt. " Apparently it was still not a good option because then she turned her eyes to Maggie's still untouched second piece of (my) toast. Fighting ensued. And so I excused myself to the other room and enjoyed my toast at last, whilst ignoring the bickering from the kitchen table. I finished my breakfast, returned to the kitchen and found they had abandoned the table for the great outdoors. The toast sat on the table, seemingly untouched. I remained in the kitchen and washed the dishes while chatting on the phone with a friend.

When the kitchen was clean, I started to walk through the dining area to check on the backyard. To my horror, I discovered half a dozen very gooey, very jammy footprints on the floor. Where had they come from? Where did they go? HOW DID THE BOTTOM OF FEET GET COATED IN JAM? The toast looked untouched, and each footprint seemed to contain an amount of jam equal to the original jam on the bread. Horrified, I checked the carpet but could see no continuation of the trail. It was a mystery, one I'm afraid I will never solve. However, I will ponder it every time I stick to the kitchen floor until I finally am grossed out enough to mop it.

I can tell you the final ending for that last piece of toast, though. Hours later, Addie rediscovered its existence and asked if she could have it. Maggie saw that Addie was eating it and was immediately enraged and desperate to eat the toast herself. Addie shared, a little. Both parties ended up wholly unsatisfied with the results, which led to yelling and threats, which I may or may not have participated in.

Tomorrow I will tell them we are out of bread.

Some moments of late

2011-07-10T19:45:00.001-07:00

It's been a while since I've blogged. We have been up to many things, most notably, moving from Citrus Heights to Concord. And let's not forget that I am still pregnant and woefully unmotivated. Today I felt very vindicated in my laziness, though, since my decision to not shave resulted in my wearing my longest and most attractive maternity dress, and my decision to put my wet hair up in a bun before bed resulted in nice wavy hair.

But, in an effort to overcome my blogging ennui, here is a collection of moments from our recent life that don't warrant a blog entry of their own. (And so you know, I just typed "glob" twice in a row while trying to type blog.)

Here is Miss Addie, very focused on a foam block sculpture. I was very impressed with the thought that went into her design.
Chloe has lost two more teeth, for a grand total of four. Now, I knew kids with missing teeth was cute. And I knew little kids with grown up teeth was not so cute, but a necessary part of growing up. However, I was totally unprepared for the awfulness of loose top front teeth. Chloe does not want any outside help with her teeth coming out, so those two front teeth got looser, and wigglier and moved around in her mouth. At times she looked liked Nanny McFee with one tooth peeking out from between her closed lips. I really couldn't look her in the face. Finally I convinced her to let me have one try, and I got the top right one out.
Yet still, that left one hung in there, pointing sideways at times. And she wouldn't let me touch it. I was awfully grateful for our 60 degree pool party with Josh and the monkey business that finally knocked that tooth out. Thankfully Chloe was not upset about losing her tooth to the depths of the pool. And the tooth fairy accepted her note in place of the tooth, although it took a panicked 5:30 am wakeup for the tooth fairy to remember her job.

My little toothless vampire in the pool. The first front tooth is making its way in, and looks like the poor girl will be inheriting my special front teeth.

This is a picture of the saddest end I've ever seen a ladybug come to, even worse than the weekly lawnmower massacres.

Why is it that a child who screams and fights to get out of her car seat for the entire trip, will refuse to get out of the car once we arrive at our destination?
Look, Mom. I helped Maggie get dressed! And I dressed myself!
Do not interrupt me when I'm reading.

Yes, I loaded up that truck and drove it 90 miles by myself. Because I'm nuts. And a bit of a Hoarder.
Chloe's last day of school. Awfully bittersweet. How dare she grow up so much?
Dear Maggie, thank you for being so entranced by the TV, for at least a few minutes, while I packed. P.S. You are cute.

"Mom, MOM!!!" calls Addie as I attempt to sneak off to the bathroom. "Maggie's dead!" In vain I scream back, "No she's not! DO NOT WAKE HER UP!" I return from the bathroom to find a very much alive, very sad Maggie.
Pretty solid photographic evidence that Maggie is her Daddy's girl. And still, very cute.
Our new back yard is significantly smaller than our old one. It also has significantly less grass. Like none. I made the mistake of setting up the wading pool in the dirt. Did you know that the dirt in Concord is much lighter and softer than the dirt in the Sacramento area and turns into great mud with very little effort?

I won't soon forget.

Addie thinks it makes a great facial.
I love that Chloe can read now. So does Maggie.

Our Lady of Perpetual Packing, as recreated by Addie. That's an upside down wall sconce with a washcloth wimple.
Gee, I wonder what Maggie would like for lunch?
Hopefully there will be many more blog entries to follow in the near future. And they may even have individual themes. Or, I may just take another nap.

A few things on my mind today II

2011-06-02T10:07:00.000-07:00

For those who are interested, it's been a long time since I've shared a "few" things. The first time was here. I'm pretty sure there's less of a theme to this list. But after all, I'm pregnant.

The girls are currently playing some sort of prison game. I'm sure there will be a riot soon, but for now, all is quiet. I would like to join them. I would be the model prisoner. They could lock me in my room all day and I wouldn't make a peep. I'd even give myself a homemade tattoo. To the outside world, it might just look like stretch marks, but I'd know it signaled my membership in a pretty hardcore gang. Plus, I already go the bathroom prison style.
I'm thinking hard about packing my clothes today. On the surface, this seems like a pretty easy job, but there are categories of clothing that need sorting. So far I've come up with Small Maternity, Large Maternity, and I Really Don't Care Anymore Maternity. Though, I did catch a glance of some overalls on a cute girl on 90210 the other day (the new 90210, not the old one), and thought, "Shoot, now wearing my overalls everyday come September is going to look like I'm still trying." After the maternity clothes comes Large Nursing, Smaller Nursing, Attempting To Do Weight Watchers, and Will Number 4 Wreck Me So Badly That I Will Never Be Able To Fit Into These Clothes Again and Should I Just Give Them Away Now?
I sat in the bathroom, contemplating packing while picking my toes and my thoughts wandered to the Pioneer Woman, who also waxes contemplative while picking her toes. I realized the train of logic must go as follows. Pioneer Woman picks her toes. Pioneer Woman used to be a ballerina. I pick my toes, ergo, I am graceful. It makes perfect sense.
I had a big achievement in the bathroom the other day, and no, it has nothing to do with with my Hoarders problem. Lately, the shower has had a hoarding problem, and despite my best attempts to get it to drain and large quantities of hair removal, nothing has worked. Saturday I busted out the adhesive floral clay. 1 ball of it on the end of a hanger grabbed the shampoo lid Maggie had dropped down the drain. 2 balls on the ends of a pair of tongs secured the toothbrush. So now I have fixed a washing machine with floral wire, and plumbing problems with floral clay. Ladies, forget becoming photographers on the side--become a part time florist.
I discovered the origin of the giant pile of dry baby wipes that keeps mysteriously appearing behind the trunk in the living room. I entered the room the other day to finding Addie cleaning her hands with a wipe. I then asked her to help me with something and she said, "Just a minute, Mom. Let me throw this away." And then she tossed it in the corner. I love when my children have been doing something the wrong way for so long that they will now blatantly do it in front of me.
Here's another logic problem for you. If the maternal grandmother of your baby is the second of four sisters, and the paternal grandmother of your baby is the third of four sisters, how high is the probability that your fourth baby will be a girl? Or we can approach the problem from a different direction. If your husband is known for being incredibly consistent, a man of deliberateness and routine, was there any chance that after he produced one gorgeous little girl, he would try anything else?
Do you know what's worse than trying to scrub dried shredded wheat cereal sludge off the inside of your sink after a helpful child has dumped her bowl all over the sink? Discovering that the child didn't make it to the sink and not only didn't eat any of the second bowl of cereal she requested, but managed to spill it all over the floor, the cupboards and the trash can on her way to the sink. And then you left the house without seeing the mess and returned 2 hours later to find it had permanently adhered itself to those surfaces. At least it wasn't this again.

Hy-PO-tension

2011-05-18T14:51:00.000-07:00

If any of you had been here this morning to witness the little meltdown I had (and I'm awfully glad you weren't), you would probably be certain that I had a problem with high blood pressure, a.k.a. hypertension. Truth is, it was probably the closest my blood pressure has come to normal in a few weeks. Like 19, if you're counting. Every doctor's appointment I go to, I'm complimented on how great my blood pressure is. And I nod, and laugh, and quip the same joke about how hard I work at it. I'm starting to rethink that response. Because low blood pressure doesn't always equal great blood pressure.

I remember waiting in line to pay at a store when I was about this pregnant with Addie and suddenly feeling dizzy and faint. When I mentioned this to my OB, she told me it was just my blood vessels relaxing in anticipation of the increased blood volume that my pregnancy was bringing. Because it was my second pregnancy, my vessels already knew what to do and were either

1. Eagerly anticipating their increased job responsibilities.

Or, and I feel this is the much more likely option,

2. Slacking off and "relaxing" early just because they could. Incidentally, they decided to get my intestines in on the action. Those intestines of mine are so relaxed about doing their job I'm thinking we could shoot a whole episode of Hoarders up in there.

My blood vessels have gotten increasingly lazy with each pregnancy. With Maggie, I ended up needing to teach all my lessons at church while sitting in a chair because I couldn't stand for more than a minute without feeling woozy. But this little fetus has taken it to a Whole. Notha. Level. It has completely cut off the blood supply to my brain.

This pregnancy, I get light headed when standing still for seconds. Without the movement of my legs, my body can't be bothered to get the juices flowing all the way to the top. I end up bending down quite regularly to "play with my kids" while waiting for Chloe after school when in reality, I'm debating just completely laying down on the sidewalk to clear my head. For the last 4+ months, I've been too lazy to even get mad at myself for being so lazy. I sleep 9 hours a night and wake up craving a nap. I stood under the water in the shower this morning, rinsing my hair, and couldn't remember if I was rinsing it in anticipation of washing it or if I was rinsing it because I had just washed it.

I leave gallons of milk on the counter for hours. Last night I put the dinner leftovers away in a container, then brought the pan over to the sink to wash it, along with all the pots from the last three night's dinners. I'm hoping I actually remembered to use soap when I washed them. When I finished, I turned around to find that despite thinking I had put the leftovers away, I had actually left the container on the table with the lid off. I'm sure pretty soon, something I've forgotten in the kitchen is going to give me a nasty case of salmonella. But hey, that might be the wake-up call my bowels need.

Even funner, I've been getting some really nasty headaches throughout this pregnancy. I've come to realize it's not my body telling me how desperately badly it wants Dr. Pepper and is actually my brain telling me it needs blood. Then, just this week I've started having a stiff neck and upper back pain. Initially I thought it was because I was spending too much time playing Bubble Blaster on my phone, but on a whim today, I googled "pregnancy hypotension" and guess what? Fatigue, light headedness, headaches, stiff neck and sore upper back are all symptoms. So, I took my afternoon rest with my feet propped up on the back of the couch. And now my back doesn't hurt as much.

Basically, I'm just looking for a way to justify all my bad behaviors this pregnancy. I'll keep googling until I find a diagnosis that also covers "extremely short temper" and "loss of ability to cook." But in the meantime, expect to find me lying on the couch with my feet over my head, cursing at angry birds while something in the kitchen smokes.

(And I will bring it up with my doctor at my next appointment, though I'm sure the response will be, "Just take it easy and drink more water and have your partner give you a back massage.")

Booger McSnottyface

2011-05-02T15:48:00.001-07:00

For the second week in a row, I took Maggie home from church early because I didn't want to share the products of her nasty nose with the rest of the nursery. You're welcome. I will also admit I was eager to come home early myself because

I had the beginnings of a really special headache coming on.
Sacrament meeting had run about 20 minutes over, which in kid time equals 3 extra hours of trying to keep them "reverent."
I love to ditch church. Yeah, I said it.

I still wasn't clear as to whether or not my motives in coming home early were entirely pure (i.e. Maggie really was sick) until this morning. Here's the thing. Maggie gets colds like I get colds. We both start to feel rotten for a day, maybe have a scratchy throat, a little mucous, nothing super specific.

But day two, the faucet opens. Seriously. My nose runs so hard and fast, it's all I can do to stem the tide. The snot pouring from it is the consistency of water, and if I don't keep a tissue in hand at all times, is likely to just flow forth onto all surfaces. I once had a roommate remark that I wasn't using my tissues very "effectively" because she couldn't believe how many I was going through. During this portion of my colds, I have often had to resort to sticking tissues up each nostril just to do basic household tasks, or even go to sleep. You're right. I am very, very sexy.

After day two, the tide usually stems and the flood thickens, allowing me to function for a couple days until it thickens so much that it glues my throat shut and I have moments where I can't breathe. On those days, I use one of these. If you haven't tried one for allergies/colds/sinuses, you really should.

Today when I went in to get Maggie up for the day, I knew I was right in keeping her home from church. Because she looked like this.

Like an old man in a toddler suit. I say old man rather than old lady because her hair growth still puts her more in the old man category. Although Maggie is usually very willing to let me wipe her runny nose, and can even blow it when I ask her to (Unlike Addie, who still sucks in. Special.), I am not there to help her in the night. And in the night, she rubs that runny snot over every last inch of her face, right up into her hairline. And as a result, when that mucus dries and cracks, she looks like she's aged 70 years.

I've spent all day chasing that little monkey with a tissue, but I'll admit, I haven't worked very hard at cleaning the rest of her face. I'm kind of hoping if I let it build up, by tomorrow morning I will be able to find her work as a circus freak.

In the Fishbowl

2011-04-25T16:15:00.000-07:00

For Chloe's first birthday, I bought her 3 small 10 cent fish. I think they died before we even reached home.

I refused to be defeated and bought her one more expensive fantail goldfish. His name was Fish. He was orange and white, and Chloe loved him. She loved him so much that at 18 months, she figured out how to scale the front of her dresser and get on top of her changing table so that she could reach the fishtank. One day I found her up there, something clenched tightly in her little hand. It looked like a hairbow sticking out of her fingers, so I didn't worry about it until I noticed the water everywhere, and the piles of gravel, and finally, the empty fishtank. How she caught that sucker I'll never know, and how he survived the ordeal virtually unscathed is nothing short of a miracle. Sure, he always swam upside down after that, but he moved with us from our apartment to our first home and swam cheerily inverted until one day when he choked on a large bite of food. I think. Chloe's not talking.

A few months after Fish passed, Chloe won a little fish at a party by throwing a ping pong ball in his bowl. His tiny, little bowl. Nemo lived in that bowl for several months, in increasingly cloudy water, until I realized he actually was going to stay with us. I went out, bought a new, bigger aquarium and a couple buddies for him, and now we had Nemo, the feeder fish, Tinkerbell, the calico fantail, and Gill, the Black Moor.

Addie and Chloe took turns doing this to the tank.

That's about half a can of flake fish food in there. And yes, the fish are actually in there, too, somewhere. You can see Nemo at the top. He's looking pretty bloated.

That batch of fish stayed with us for a couple years. Gill gradually changed color from black to gold, and grew to dwarf the other two fish. When they died several months ago, I'm pretty sure he had something to do with it. But he's not talking.

So now, giant, orange Gill has the tank all to himself. Until Maggie decides he needs extra care. Whereas the other girls were content to just encourage the other fish into obesity, Maggie has concern for his entire well being. For instance, the other day he must have looked like he had a cold because I found half a box of tissues floating in the top of the tank.

Another day, he looked bored and illiterate, so she provided entertainment.

Not only did she give him a book to read, but she drew pictures on the outside of the tank.

Maggie also likes Gill to feel a part of our holiday celebrations. A few weeks ago I discovered several small plastic carrots, collected from other Easter decorations, resting on the the bottom of the tank. I decided to leave them there. I figured they wouldn't dissolve, and Gill's big enough that if he decided to eat one, I think he really could get it down.

Most recently, one day I decided to break out of my usual morning lethargy and do a little gross housekeeping, namely cleaning out the shower drain. I removed several large, cheesy looking hairballs from its depths, then went to check on the kids in the kitchen. As I walked past Gill's home, I did a double take. I saw something resting on the bottom of his tank that I could have sworn I had just placed in the garbage can in my bathroom. I looked closer and realized that Maggie had now decided to share her favorite breakfast cereal with Gill.
Am I wrong in thinking that looks like something that would generally be found in a drain? I think not. This particular mess turned into several days of cleaning because even after I had removed all the shredded wheat and cleaned the entire tank, the water kept clouding up. I choose to think that it was leftover from the initial cereal hairball, and not because Maggie was pouring her milk in the tank. But I could be wrong.

(In case you don't know, you can now buy Chocolate Frosted Mini Wheats. They are delightful. And my kids love them. They (and the fish) eat more of them than I do. Plus, nutritionally, they are healthier than a bowl of Raisin Nut Bran (I did a comparison for Bracken's sake when he started complaining about how good our kids have it). But seriously, healthier chocolate cereal that actually tastes like chocolate. Have you tried the Special K Chocolately Delight? It tastes like death.)

At least my hearing is good

2011-04-12T16:27:00.000-07:00

I am often amazed by the different sounds I can identify throughout my house during the day while in another room. For instance, I know which child just hit which other child just by the sound of the slap. I also know each and every time a certain child got up and snuck into the bathroom after bedtime the other night (4 times over the course of 2 hours), and I also know, just by the sound, that SHE DID NOT ACTUALLY HAVE TO GO. She just didn't want to go to sleep (and thanks to her antics, my sleep schedule got thrown off, too). I can hear when toilet paper is joyously being unrolled straight into the toilet by a toddler. And interestingly, the other day I was clearly able to distinguish exactly which knives that same toddler was pulling out of the knife block. One of my favorite sounds is the moment a child goes from pounding on the bathroom door with a fist, to lying on the floor and kicking the door. It is accompanied by the sound of defeat, in case you were wondering.

The one sound I truly cannot determine, though, is the silence after I emerge from a solo shower. And by solo, I don't mean that I was singing, I mean by myself, with no other people. And if I indeed had the opportunity to shower by myself, chances are, I took my time. And I probably sat down on my shower bench for a while and contemplated the wall. I would blame that little hobby on my pregnancy, other than I do it all the time. Sure, my mind occasionally wanders with concern that my children are up to something, but generally I am able to calm myself by thinking, "It's probably too late to stop them now, I might as well take my time."

However, once I leave the shower and can actually hear, then I start to worry. I turn off the water, I turn off the exhaust fan, I may even turn off the ceiling fan in the bedroom, and I cock my ear to the bedroom door. Silence. But what kind of silence? Is it the sound of happy children, playing quietly and contentedly in the other room (wishful thinking)? Is it the sound of brain dead children, immobile in front of the television (realistic wishful thinking)? Or is it the sound of children who are no longer able to speak, and are barely breathing in the aftermath of the havoc they have wreaked during the 15 (30) minutes I was ignoring them?

The simple answer is not so simple. It seems obvious that I should just open the door and see what is going on. But alas, despite the fact that my children cannot hear their own name shouted at them from 2 feet away, they are intimately tuned into the sound of my bedroom door opening and will come running as soon as it is cracked. Then, as I attempt to complete my daily beauty regimen, I will be subjected to many questions, such as, "Why are you wearing that? What is that for? Why does your body look like that?" I will also have to fight the toddler for every makeup brush and product I attempt to use. I will have to fish things I don't want thrown away out of the trash can and/or toilet. And I will have to break up fights. Assuming, of course, that this is a day when I actually groom myself. The chances of that happening decrease dramatically with each additional child in my room.

Also, if I leave the room before getting dressed, and they are indeed near death, I know I will immediately become consumed with life saving tactics and concern for their well being, and will be physically and mentally unable to dress myself at that point. And that means 911 would be showing up at my house to find that not only was I neglecting my children, but I like to be nude while I ignore them. I'm thinking being fully clothed, maybe even in a coordinating outfit, would make me look much better.

So I try to find a happy medium. I try to at least get my underwear on, and some of my clothes. Because it is not so easy to try to wipe the bottom of a toddler who has taken off her poopy pullup and started trying to climb onto the potty by herself when you are also trying to hold your towel up at the same time. And, as I learned today, it is much easier to clean a lot of chocolate shredded wheat out of the fish tank while wearing pants.

True Grit

2011-04-05T19:08:00.000-07:00

A couple months ago, Bracken and I saw True Grit in the theatre. Bracken immediately put the original on our Netflix cue. Although I had been raised on a steady diet of John Wayne by my father, somehow I had never seen it, and neither had Bracken. As much as we enjoyed the Coen brothers' adaptation, we felt we should watch John Wayne's Oscar winning performance for comparison.

And I ended up being much more interested in Kim Darby. First, I noticed that she had the ever sexy Julie Andrews hairdo.
Then we noticed that not only had she stolen her hair, she'd also completely ripped off Maria's traveling outfit in The Sound of Music.
Yup, right down to the special skirt and boots.
However, there was definitely less singing in True Grit.
However, I was (mostly) able to overcome my distraction with Kim's tribute to Julie, until Bracken turned to me and said, "It's got raisins in it . . ."

"You like raisins."

And then, the comparison was all over for me. I vote for the new True Grit. Not only did it not have Kim Von Trapp in it, but that running scene at the end . . . .

Announcing

2011-03-23T18:15:00.000-07:00

And here we have the reason I haven't been blogging. This production has consumed me, and made my only real interest of late finding more time to sleep. But we are excited to welcome this fourth, and final, installment to the Mannion family.

And, as always, it was such a relief to find there was only one baby in there. Though the doctor did remark on how busy this little embryo already seemed to be.

Firsts

2011-02-05T17:38:00.000-08:00

We had some significant firsts in our house this week.

Maggie peed in the potty for the first time! Hooray!

Addie cut her own hair for the first time! Boo!

And Chloe said "Damn it!" for the first time! Boo?

No repeats on this afternoon, please!

2011-01-07T16:28:00.000-08:00

Dear 2:10 Version of Myself,

There you stand, making chocolate milk for Maggie and Addie who slept until 2:10, thus ensuring that they had the longest nap possible, but also giving you enough time to get them loaded in the car easily to go get Chloe from school. In a few minutes you're going to put them in the car, along with Chloe's afterschool snacks. You'll get them both in jackets, shoes on all the feet, and you'll even remember the form you need because you need to stop by the doctor's office to get Chloe's TB test checked on the way home. Little do you know the agony, humiliation, disgust, shame and sadness that await you.

A few minutes into the drive, your stomach will start to grumble. By the time you park outside the school, you will be in full fledged gastrointestinal distress. You'll hobble to the kindergarten classroom, and the usual two to three minutes you have to wait for the kindergartners to emerge will stretch into hours. But you'll paste a cheerful smile on your face because even though you're in pretty desperate condition, the way your daughter's face lights up when she sees you, and the fact that she immediately reaches for your hand still bring joy to your heart.

You'll hustle with her to the car, and then sit, and sit, and squirm and squirm as you wait for all the after school traffic to clear. You'll call your husband to try and get your mind off your discomfort, and it helps, but nausea is now building because this nightmare has to leave your body somehow. Somehow, you'll make home. You'll pull into the garage, turn off the car, close the garage door, and tell the kids you'll be back as soon as you can, asking them to please stay in their seats. As you leave the car, unbuckling your belt as fast as you can, Addie will start begging to make a Santa's elf RIGHT NOW. You tell her she has to wait.

After a lengthy visit to the bathroom, you'll emerge feeling somewhat better, but still not totally well. You'll climb back into the driver's seat, open the door, and reopen the garage door. Addie will sobbing in the back seat, hysterical not because she missed you, but because she really needs to make an elf. You'll offer her a snack, then realize your travails in the bathroom are not over yet. You'll toss Addie a snack, close the garage door again, then run back to the water closet.

You'll feel pretty normal after you leave this time. You'll open the garage door yet again, climb in the car, and head for the doctor's office. As you drive, you'll start to smell something awful. You'll wonder if it's something lingering from your bathroom visit, or if it's just in your head, or perhaps something festering somewhere in the car. When you pull up outside the doctor's office, you'll realize it's the third option. When you go to take Addie out of the car, you'll discover that she's covered in her own vomit. While you were being torn apart in the bathroom, she had worked herself up into such a state that she threw-up. Not because she missed you, or because it was dark, but because she wanted to make an elf, RIGHT NOW. Chloe didn't see it happen because it was too dark with the garage door closed and the gloomy gray outside.

You'll have no clothes to change her into, and you can't just take off what she's wearing. You decide to bring her in as she is, because you just want to confirm that Chloe does not have tuberculosis and be done with it. If you miss this check, she'll have to get poked again, and that was enough of an ordeal the first 1 1/2 times. You wipe Addie off as best you can, but with every step you take you are aware of how vile your child smells. Once you are seated in the waiting room, the smell will become overpowering. Addie will ask you to read a book, and you'll agree, because if you are reading, you are not breathing in, and you don't have to smell it. You pray that everyone else in the crowded room is not breathing either, and that the smell is not as bad as you think, and no one is even noticing you. But then you'll realize that you are reading really, really loudly to cover your nervousness, and everyone is paying attention to you anyway.

Fortunately you'll get called back quickly, and you will be helped immediately instead of being shut in a small, warm room. Even the big, open room you are in fills up with stench quickly. You decide not to acknowledge it, and hurry everyone out as soon as you get the papers. Once back in the car, you'll put in a new air freshener and turn the heat off so you have to smell as little as possible. As soon as you get home, you'll strip Addie and immediately begin cleaning the car. You'll be grateful again for your carpet shampooer, but question again why

Mom's aren't immune to the scent of their own children's vomit
There are spaces in the car that can accomodate fruit snacks and pieces of cracker but can't allow a vacuum attachment.
you keep trying to vacuum up Fruity Flakes with the Power Paw attachment on the vacuum. Because even though they are 100% fruit, they will clog it 100% of the time.

It's now 4:30 and the car is clean. I'm sure the incident will come back to haunt you some time in June when the car has been sitting in the sun all day, but for now, you'll have done all you can. I wish I could tell you a way that this all could have been avoided, but alas. All I can tell you is to savor 2:10, and know that by 4:30, it will all be over. I hope.

Love,
4:30 Ruth

I know where the time went

2011-01-04T08:24:00.000-08:00

Periodically throughout the holiday break, I thought about blogging. I thought about keeping everyone up to date on our events, or at the very least, backlogging blog entries so that when I slurp them this year and finally print them, they can all be dated correctly.

Alas, this did not happen. And here's why. Chloe's last day of school was the 17th. That gives us 16 days of holiday. And in those two weeks plus two days, we:

Had 8 different houseguests, who slept a total of 6 nights at our house.
Spent one night, and two days away from our house.
Had one semi, and one very, boogery nose in the family.
Hosted a Christmas Eve dinner of Ham and all the trimmings.
Hosted a Christmas Day extravaganza, featuring my first Prime Rib and lots and lots of wrapping paper.
Were kept busy by many church activities and responsibilities.
Made gingerbread houses.
Looked at Christmas lights.
Visited the lighted Folsom Zoo.
Visited Old Sacramento.
Visited Stockton, and the Children's Museum there.
Had a girl's night and stayed up until 2.
Played at the beach and explored tide pools.
Made two trips to Ikea, and updated the girls' bedroom.
Switched from 12:30 church to 9 am church (hooray). Chloe is now in CTR 5, Addie is a Sunbeam, and oh, blessed day, Maggie is in nursery.
Taught one Relief Society lesson.

And after church on Sunday, the last day of our "vacation," instead of starting in on all the New Years plans I have, I firmly planted myself on the couch. And there I stayed for the rest of the day, intermittently dozing. And I thought to myself, "Blogging, schmogging." And it was good.

Pictures to follow, eventually.

A few morsels for you

2010-12-10T12:02:00.000-08:00

Chloe and I were discussing privacy today.

"Chloe, if I tell you I'm going to take a shower, and go into the bathroom and shut the door, it means I need some privacy. I don't want you coming in unless it's an emergency."

"Like if I finish my apple and I really need a string cheese?"

No, not like that at all.

Addie and I were discussing Christmas presents.

"Mom, I really, really want Santa to bring me my big Ariel doll. I'm a really good girl. I'm so good, I'm so good I'm two girls!"

I wonder if both girls will fight over the one Ariel doll on Christmas morning?

Then there's Maggie. She likes to help lately. She picked up the tea set all by herself, as long as I said, "Yay!" every time she put something in. Then she dumped it all back out. Afterward, she moved onto the bathroom. I heard the toilet lid shut, and found she'd dipped my Swiffer duster in, and was merrily "cleaning" the bathroom with it. Those dusters hold a lot of water.

And finally, my win for the week. I was reposting an ad for my girls' bedding on craigslist. I didn't pay much attention as I uploaded the pictures because this is the umpteenth time I've reposted this ad (stupid, flaky people). When I got an email about the bedding a short time later, I was pretty excited until I read that she just wanted to let me know that the pictures attached to the ad were not of bedding but of this
When you hear CPS came by, you won't have to wonder why.

Hello, Beautiful

2010-12-05T18:37:00.000-08:00

I finally just couldn't stand it any longer. I could no longer resist the temptation. I needed to know the answer to a question that had been burning inside me for quite some time.

What would Addie look like with mascara on?

She's got these long, long lashes, but in true redhead style, they have almost no color. I just wanted to see what she would look like with lashes that showed. The answer is, stunning.

We started with cute, then moved on to other emotions, like surprise.
Self satisfied.
Morose
Artistic
Demonstrative
And finally, so freaking cute I just don't know what to do with myself.
I know, like all girls, she will resent and probably even hate me at times throughout her teenage years, but on the day when I let her start wearing makeup for reals, she will LOVE me.

Happy 60th Dad!

2010-12-05T18:02:00.000-08:00

My dad celebrated his 60th birthday on Friday. My brother put together a collection of 60 memories for him, gathered from family. I didn't get to attend the surprise party where it was presented to him, but here's what we contributed.

Chloe loves Grandpa Geilman because he has Cassie and she loves to pet dogs. She loves when she slept at his house. Last year, when we made apple juice, Grandpa lifted her up so she could help. She loves him because he’s always nice, has a collection of glowing balls, and he’s fun to play with. Chloe talks about Grandpa Geilman all the time, and gets tears in her eyes when she talks about how much she misses him. Chloe would love to go fishing with Grandpa Geilman one day.

Addie loves Grandpa Geilman’s toys. She loves the piggies he makes (everything lately has to do with Piggies). Addie loves eating ice cream at Grandpa’s.

Maggie also loves Grandpa Geilman for his dog.

Bracken's memory of Wayne Geilman.

Asking your future father in-law for his first born daughter’s hand in marriage can be an interesting thing. I remember it quite vividly. I had never learned to drive a stick shift, and during a visit to Utah Ruth told me how good her father was at teaching people to drive a manual transmission. I had tried learning from my own Dad, but he was not very patient and explained how to drive a stick shift by saying, “you just do it”.

However, Wayne, knew just what to say and do. I felt the whole time that this would be my one opportunity to talk to Wayne about my intentions during our trip. Let’s just say I felt a little nervous and distracted trying to not stall the car and catch the gears in the right “spot”. Wayne talked about the intricacies of a manual transmissions, I tried to pay attention figuring out how to talk to him about Ruth and our futures together. The fact that Wayne is this big imposing guy (at least I felt that way at the time) added to my nervousness. After a while of driving around and lots of nice words of encouragement, it was decided to just make circles in a nearby church parking lot. Eventually Wayne decided to get out of the car and let me practice on my own.

At the time I thought he was done with me, but now I think he knew that I was nervous and that the best way I would learn would be on my own. None the less, after our driving lesson, we found ourselves walking back into the house. There were only a few more feet before the front door and we were no longer alone. My opportunity would be gone. I needed to talk to him alone. I don’t remember what I said but I just remember stopping him in the front of the house in the most awkward of places. I made my last ditch effort to mention to Wayne my intentions to marry Ruth and that I would soon be proposing to her in the coming months and that this would be my only opportunity to talk to him in person before that time.

I really don’t recall whatever excruciatingly awkward words emanated from my mouth. But I do remember what Wayne’s response was. Wayne paused for a moment (I think he was a bit surprised at what I was saying most likely because I hadn’t mentioned anything during the entire driving lesson) and said, “Bracken, we would love to have you as part of our family.” I immediately felt at ease. We entered the house and Ruth was fixing her hair in the bathroom or something. “How did the lesson go?” Wayne, made some casual banter and then we shared a knowing look unbeknownst to Ruth. The rest is as they say history.

I love you Wayne. Happy Birthday!

Your son-in-law,

Bracken

And finally, me.

It’s really hard for me to sift through all my memories of Dad and come up with just a few to share.

My earliest memories of Dad are of him coming home from work, or school, when we lived in Wellsville, and playing airplane on the living room floor. Dan and I, and eventually, Sarah, would take our turn to fly, land, and then quickly run back around for more. In my memory, these sessions would last forever, but Dad would keep playing with us no matter now tired he was. And we are always accompanied by “Barbara Ann” and “Do Wa Diddy.”

Another significant memory I have of Dad actually involves what I don’t remember. We were living in Mississippi, and Dad was trying to speed through his doctorate. So, he was going to school full time, occasionally traveling out of town to consult, taking care of Mom when he was home, and serving at church. What I don’t remember is him being absent. I don’t know how he did it, but even with all that on his plate, he was always there. And I’ll never forget, when that dissertation was finally done, sitting around the kitchen table helping him assemble it. We had gotten our first computer while he was in school, but were still using an electric typewriter for the printer. Every line had to be measured to make sure it didn’t extend too far into the margin. Every graph had to be cut out, glued in placed, the edges taped over, and white out dabbed over the lines so that the seams wouldn’t show when it was copied. The smallest mistake could result in his dissertation getting rejected. But I still remember having fun as a family as we helped him.

I remember driving with Dad to early morning seminary in San Luis Obispo. As we drove around town, picking up various kids before we headed to the church, I’d often slip a tape into the tape deck of Toad Wort. The volume would usually be pretty low, and I could often barely hear the music. As far as Dad was concerned, it wasn’t even music. More than once he would ask us all to be quiet so he could hear better because he was sure the car was breaking down judging by the bad noises he thought were originating in the engine. In my defense, it was only U2’s Achtung Baby that usually caused him alarm.

Once we got to the church, Dad would work in his office while we were in class. Then we would all load back up and he would take us to school. If we happened to rest our eyes on the way, he would silently detour off of California Blvd. over to Pepper Street, and speed up a little. We sure woke up quickly when our heads hit the roof of the car as he caught air on that hill. And yet once I started driving, he wasn’t impressed when I told him how you couldn’t even feel the speed bumps in the school parking lot if you drove over them fast enough.

When I moved to Los Angeles after college, Dad followed a few weeks later with a trailer full of my stuff (sound familiar to anyone else?). When he arrived, he asked me to call the Elder’s Quorum President and ask him for help unloading the trailer. Having not hit it off well with the EQP, my response was, “Dad, I’m stronger than he is.” In retrospect, maybe Dad was inspired in wanting to enlist the help of my future husband, but somehow we managed to move a 500 hundred pound (give or take) desk up two flights of stairs and into my apartment all by ourselves.

Once Bracken and I had started dating, though, it was super important to me that I get Dad’s approval of him. Though my patriarchal blessing tells me to follow the advice of my parents, as always, I’d had to learn the hard way to follow that counsel. Though I wanted them to meet as soon as possible, I couldn’t convince Bracken to come to Utah the day after Christmas for Dad and Vicky’s wedding. So Dad and Vicky stopped by for dinner on their honeymoon. I still remember what I served that day, and I apologize. I have gotten much better in the kitchen.

The day after Bracken and I got married, we stopped by the house to pick up our gifts on the way to our honeymoon. As he did every school year, or at other significant times, Dad decided he needed to give us father’s blessings. Bracken’s dad is not a member of the church, but because we had been sealed in the temple, Dad could now give Bracken the first father’s blessing of his life. I felt so blessed to have a father who both honored his priesthood and felt impressed to share that power with my husband.

Finally, my most recent favorite memory of Dad came last Christmas. We were staying at his house for the holidays. It was Maggie’s, and Emma’s, first Christmas. We were all downstairs, trying to keep the girls as quiet as possible, for as long as possible, so as not to wake Dad and Vicky. Little did we know Dad was upstairs, eagerly listening for any sound, impatiently whispering to Vicky, “I think the girls are awake! I think they’re going to come upstairs soon!” I’m really not sure who was the most excited about Christmas that day.

I sure do love you, Dad. I’m so grateful for the example you’ve been to me, the love you’ve shown me, and the many ways you’ve blessed my life. I know I wouldn’t have found such a great husband if I hadn’t had your example to lead me. I’m a better parent because of your guidance. I wish I could be there to celebrate with you, but know I’m thinking about you from here.

Ruth

Caramellow Crisps

2010-11-20T08:51:00.000-08:00

You know how sometimes, a whole is greater than the sum of its parts? This is definitely the case
with these treats. Which I can eat a million of. Thankfully, I had completely forgotten they existed. That is, until a friend recently reminded me of them, and now I can think of little else. I have a half a bag of giant Campfire marshmallows calling to me. I'll let you know how they turn out after I reemerge from the sugar coma.

Caramello Crisps

1 can sweetened condensed milk
1/2 c. butter
1 bag (8 oz.) caramels
1 bag (10 1/2 oz.) large marshmallows
5 c. Rice Krispies

Melt caramels, butter and sweetened condensed milk in top of double boiler. Dip large marshmallows into mixture (stabbing them with a fork helps, though you could also put a popsicle stick in each one and make a fancier treat) and roll in Rice Krispies. Store in the freezer for extra tastiness.

A short tribute

2010-11-12T17:34:00.001-08:00

Dear Maggie's Smile,

Thank you so much.

Love,
Mom

The final Halloween post

2010-11-12T16:31:00.001-08:00

Picture heavy post--beware.

For starters, this is not a picture of Chloe's Halloween costume, but it is the only thing I sewed this year. I decided not to make Halloween costumes. I figured I had two that would fit the smaller girls, and Chloe had a pricey dance costume that had only been worn once. However, I did hook Chloe up with a sweet hippie costume for Red Ribbon week at school. What's a former costume designer to do? (But really, School, "Say Peace Out to Drugs?" Irony, much?)
A couple days before Halloween, we carved our pumpkins. Maggie thought this was awesome.
I thought both Chloe and Addie were enjoying it, too.
But something went very, very wrong for Addie.
She tried really hard to pull it back together, though.
Yeah, that's a real smile.
Maybe not. But this one sure is.
And I sure do see that mischievous smile a lot.
The girls had a great time designing their pumpkins. Addie's design got quite intricate and dense.
Chloe kept her face pretty simple, then filled the back of the pumpkin with hidden messages.
And I got to carve them all.
They turned out pretty cute, I think.What a shame we only managed to light them up once. We forgot to do it before heading out to the Trunkless Treat (trick or treating around the church building). And Bracken didn't want to do it Halloween night since we weren't going to be home and he didn't want to mislead trick or treaters and incur their wrath.

Halloween finally arrived! Or, at least, the night of the ward Trunkless Treat arrived. I left early to go decorate my room in the church building. Bracken wrangled the girls into their costumes, and tried to get a picture.

Isn't Maggie to young to be giving us this look when we put her in a silly costume?
Here's Minnie Mouse and Jet the pony. Sort of.
This would have been an awfully cute picture. If it were in focus.
And Maggie's thinking everyone looks a little silly.
And we can't see Addie's face.
They all cooperated for the shot where we can't see their faces.
And then it didn't quite work out when they turned around.

At this point Bracken gave up and brought the girls to the church. I didn't get to see him much--I was till decorating my room with Shauna. I'm awfully glad she signed up to decorate with me because she really had all the cool stuff. Black lights, red lights, skull candelabras, rats, crows. All I really had was the Pirates of the Caribbean ride music on repeat. But together, we made an awesome pirate's lair.
We made the kids dig for treasure, while warning them about the rats.
Here's me and my co-pirate. I'm so glad I have to many piratey items in my costume boxes. And tooth black in my make-up kit. Though I wish I had upped the resolution on my phone before taking pictures. Love our creepy eyes. Glittering with treasure lust perhaps?
And here's my whole family. Even Bracken dressed up. Can you guess what he is?
He's a liberal. IT'S FUNNY!
And to round out the Halloween crazy, here are a few shots taken in negative mode on my phone.

Methinks we should do more teeth brushing after eating all that candy.

True Story

2010-10-28T09:59:00.000-07:00

In honor of Halloween and freak accidents, we're now going to play a game of Two Truths and a Lie. Let's see if you can figure out which of these things did not happen to me this week.

On Friday, as I bent down to get something out of a low cupboard, the power cord that plugs into the Dustbuster brushed my eye. As it is supposed to do, my eye quickly blinked shut. As it was not supposed to do, my eye blinked shut with the plug inside it. Time seemed to stop for a couple seconds as lights started to flash and my eye started to twitch. I couldn't move fast enough to pull that sucker away. There was no lasting damage, other than I kept shaking my head, wondering how that could have happened.
On Sunday, we had dinner with some friends. I turned to throw away some trash Maggie was snacking on, and accidentally tripped over Maggie who had shifted position right under my feet. As I attempted to regain my balance without doing further injury to my child, I started to fall. I caught hold of the wall, but not before I cracked the bridge of my nose and my left cheekbone on the edge of the bar. It didn't turn into a major shiner--I just look like I'm really, really tired in my left eye. And have jaundice across the bridge of my nose.
And then this morning, I lay in bed, trying to get the motivation to get up and deal with the canning mess I'd left in the kitchen last night (One jar lost its bottom, and another lid came completely unscrewed and spilled all its contents in the canner. How does that happen?). I was also trying to process a dream I'd had where I'd voted for Harry Reid and Bracken came unglued, and I was like, 'But you were the one who marked the sample ballot.' And then, the metal candle holder mounted on the wall above the bed decided that it had had enough of being ignored. It crashed into my right cheekbone. I look forward to watching this new bruise develop--I hope I can now look as tired in my right eye as I do in my left.

We were supposed to have family pictures taken this weekend. I was praying for the scabs on two of my daughter's noses to heal in time. But given my recent lack of gracefulness, I'm glad we had to cancel.

Say what?

2010-10-20T17:09:00.000-07:00

Here's a few of my favorite things the kids have said lately.

Addie replaces some of her h's with c's. As in, "Mom, we're all cumin beings."
At least we're well seasoned.

Chloe said to me at the table yesterday,"Mom, there are two testaments."
"Yes, there are, in the Bible."
"No, Mom. In our bodies. There are two testaments. The small one, and the large one. For digesting our food."

And Maggie, not to be left behind, has added Addie's name to her vocabulary. The other day she woke up from her nap before Addie, then ran down the hall calling, "Add-nn, Add-nn!" It was pretty cute, and a welcome relief from her enthusiastically inflected, "Uhhhuhuuuhhhuhh," and my personal favorite, "AH AH AH AHH AHHH AHHH!"

Yesterday

2010-10-20T16:16:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so . . . well, ever present. No matter what I tried, I just couldn't get ahead of my problems. Or, rather, my children.

At 6:30 when I rolled out of my bed, awake all on my own without the help of tears or doors slamming or my name being called loudly, I hoped it was a sign of good things to come. I even had time to say my prayers on my knees before the first of the girls came trotting out to greet me. Maggie didn't wake up until 7:30! We read books for an hour, I made the big girls' beds, I did all the dishes, I really felt good about my day. I didn't even let the "train" of cars, chairs and luggage strewn across my kitchen bother me. I took a shower, got dressed, did all the grooming, got the kids dressed, teeth brushed.

And then, as I stood there, turning in circles, trying to remember what the next needful thing I should be doing was, Maggie brought me her diaper. Full of poop. While I started attempting to clean up that mess before she made it bigger, Chloe burst into tears. She had been eating an apple and knocked her wiggly tooth a bit looser, causing it to bleed. She was inconsolable, with huge crocodile tears pouring down her cheeks and pinkish drool dripping from her mouth.

We got her calmed down, and then I attempted to print up my coupons for the shopping trip I had planned during kindergarten that day. The computer froze up. The computer froze up. The computer froze up. I gave up. I loaded the kids in the car, and then Chloe exclaimed, "Mom! We didn't do my homework!"

I got her out of the car. We did all the handwriting stuff at the table, then I loaded her back in the car with a lap desk and she completed the coloring and glueing as we drove, as Addie yelled, "When are we going to Errands?" repeatedly. Chloe finished her homework in the school parking lot, we found some spare sunglasses for Sunglasses Day, and I sent her in as the bell rang.

I went back home, fed Addie and Maggie, printed my coupons and headed out. Except that I had to stop in the driveway and run back into the house for 1 sympathy card, 1 birthday card, and three thank you cards, plus stamps and addresses. Except I only had 1 thank you card in the house so I added those to the list. We made our first stop, oil change for the car. While we waited, the girls repeatedly emptied the diaper bag while I tried to fill out my cards. We finished the change, I collected the mess and we went to the next stop.

The drugstore was like wrestling buttered monkeys. Addie could not make herself stop grabbing things. Maggie repeatedly attempted to leap out of the cart. I called the shopping trip short and headed for checkout. The cashier thought Maggie was the cutest thing as she emptied the cart, all products now crushed and dented, onto the belt. Then, before the cashier could scan it, Maggie put it all back in the cart. I took it out again, pulled out my coupons, then picked them all back up off the floor after Maggie swiped them to the ground. This repeated several times, though that didn't stop the cashier from spreading them all out in front of Maggie every time.

Meanwhile, Addie found gum. Found gooey, chewed gum stuck to the side of the register and stretched it all over her hands. The cashier noticed and encouraged her to put it back in her mouth. I said it wasn't hers. I cleaned her up, we moved on. The one ray of light was that the cashier couldn't believe I had three kids, and wasn't even thirty. Then again, this was the same cashier who didn't see the big chunk of gum stuck to her register.

We stopped for ice cream which we ate in the car. I had both the girls sit down, gave them each a spoon, and they both decided at the same time to feed me. I immediately had two spoons flying at my mouth at alternating intervals, neither giving me time to swallow or stop the process. Eventually Addie tried to shove a giant glob of neon blue cotton candy ice cream into my mouth and missed. The glob hit my arm, her dress, her leg, her shoe, and then the carpet of the van. Fantastic. Then she decided she no longer wanted to eat her ice cream--she only wanted to eat mine. I then noticed Maggie had some of Addie's special gum all over her spoon. How that happened, I have no idea, but I decided we were all done with ice cream at that point. I buckled them in, then sat in the car and filled out the new cards I had just purchased. By the time we made it to the post office down the street, both Maggie and Addie were asleep. Dang it.

We went to the school and I left the girls in the car while I grabbed Chloe from kindergarten. When I opened the door to let Chloe in, Addie woke up. By the time we got home, Maggie woke up. So that's 15 minutes of nap for Addie, 25 for Maggie. None for me.

Chloe then opened her homework folder to show me the homework notice she'd received. Because after all that rushing, I had neglected to sign one piece of her homework. Stupid rules. I'm going to have to teach her how to sign my name sooner than I'd thought.

I started cooking dinner as my children alternately fought and cried. Dinner ready, our guests called to say they'd be late. Dinner overcooked, we made our guests laugh with stories of our day. Guests left, kids bathed and in bed by 7. I sat on the couch and did this. At 7:45 I got up and got in bed. I was asleep by 9.

Today has been more of the same. More crying, more bleeding, more touching, more fighting. Bring it on.

Catching up

2010-10-17T20:36:00.000-07:00

I have been a bad family historian. I was going to say I'd been a bad blogger, but I've been fairly regular on that. What I haven't kept up on is the day to day happenings in our family. Which is not that important to people outside of our family, but it is important to me since I don't scrapbook, this is the only journaling I do, and my memory is getting ever less reliable. So I'm going to try to improve. So, there may be some random, out of chronological order posts showing up here in the next little while. At least until I lose my motivation again.

And so, here is a random collection of pictures. I will caption them, but I will not try to make them cohesive.

This picture seems wrong to me. Everything is green and lush, and then there are pumpkins. Three on the table, and one in the chair. Could her hair be more orange? I have been physically craving this fall, and yet it has not yet been fall. Until today (hooray, rain!)
I set these pumpkins out for decoration, and Addie immediately found them (in her Ariel nightgown) and started acting out some little scenario with them. There is always something going on in that brain of hers.

Unfortunately, for the last couple months, that brain has been set to "Whine." It's like she's totally forgotten there is any other way to talk. And I have not been nearly patient enough with her. Occasionally we see glimpses into a world of sweetness, where she thanks me for making dinner as I sit down to the table, and says cute little prayers without prompting. I just have to hold onto those moments and ride out this 3 year old year.

Here are a couple more pictures from our anniversary trip. We went up to Squaw Valley, and got massages and holed up in our hotel. It was delightful. I loved the rain, and the giant rainbow we saw, but it did put a damper on our plans to visit Tahoe's beaches.

Chloe had a kindergarten hoe-down at school. It was quite the event. There were 8 stations the kids rotated through. I manned the "Dramatic Reading" station where I read the same book for 2 hours straight. But the kids had fun. I have to admit, I've had a hard time adjusting to the whole kindergarten, helicopter parenting thing. I'm not alone, though. The kindergarten teachers had to take a moment to request that parents stay at their assigned stations and not follow their kids from place to place.

Because I was reading Big Pumpkin for hours, I didn't get the chance to snap a picture of Chloe until after she'd been painted like a witch. But I assure you, she was an awfully cute cowgirl.
Here's part of the crowd.
I can't believe this grown up girl is mine.
This one is mine, too.
What a little poser.
Who has mastered the cheesy grin.
But even she realizes it's over the top sometimes.
This girl loves her daddy.
That, my friends, is adoration.

Once upon a bathroom

2010-10-17T19:22:00.000-07:00

When we first bought our house, the hall bathroom looked like this.

Awesome, I know. But since we were already repainting the rest of the house and doing various other projects, and I was majorly pregnant with Addie, and we knew we were going to have to gut the entire bathroom if we did anything in it, we decided to just leave it. The color was the only tolerable paint color in the house, and we figured we could live with it for 6 months or so until we got around to updating it. And then reality set in, and time passed, and money got spent on other things. We painted the vanity so we didn't have to stare at that ugly brown, and left it alone.

Fast forward 2 years. I was once again super pregnant, the bathroom was even more visually disgusting, but now various parts of it had ceased functioning properly. The shower diverter wouldn't stay up, the shower head leaked, the toilet leaked, the sink leaked . . . . We knew family would be coming out for the blessing of this soon to arrive baby, and we needed to have a functioning bathroom. Plus, Crap on the Curb day was coming, so with hardly a look back, we started the process.

Behold the final pictures of our awful bathroom. The stained linoleum.

The awful, hot halogen light fixture. The small medicine cabinet mirror.
The faux marble vanity top. The white plastic shower surround.
In my defense, it did look a little better than this. But I had taken down all of the decor before I remembered to take "Before" pictures. Bracken and friends got a sledgehammer and went to work. Before we could change our minds, the destruction passed the point of no return. We took everything but some drywall out. And then all this stuff started coming in.

This is what a crazy person looks like. This is a 9 month pregnant with crippling carpal tunnel syndrome, control freak crazy lady setting tile for the first time ever.
But we got it done. And then I had a baby, welcomed family for the blessing, had 2 surgeries, life, life, life, and I never posted pictures of the finished bathroom. Part of the hold up came because I was looking for just the right shelf to hang under the cabinet above the toilet. Then I questioned the mural I had painted on the wall and didn't want to post pictures until I had added more flowers. And I never got a new shower curtain. But I decided the other day when I finally gave my bathroom a good cleaning, that I really needed to post pictures of our home improvement project, perfect or not. So here it is--our finished (enough) bathroom. (Cue the triumphant music)

Obviously, the bathroom is small (about 5' by 7') so we couldn't change the basic layout or do anything fancy. But we are happy with how it came out.

The bathroom is the main bathroom our kids, and our guests use, so I wanted it to be inviting, but also fun for the girls. I had them each paint a small canvas, so they'd feel like it was their own.
This faucet was the first piece we picked for the bathroom. I just loved how the water poured out of it. That choice led to the Asian influence in the rest of the choices we made.
I also love my sink. It makes me happy, and is easy to clean. And this light fixture is sooo much better than the old one. It doesn't make me sweat.
Here is our shower. I subway set the tile, and ran it all the way up to the ceiling. We hung a curved rod for extra space in the shower.The main reason I haven't replaced our shower curtain is because this one is so great. Not only does it have mesh storage compartments which give the bath toys a home and allow them to dry, but we've been using for 3 years now, and it's still in great shape. I thought about getting a fabric curtain to go over it, but I think it would clutter the room too much.

Look at that sparkling water pouring into the deep soaking tub. We replaced the standard tub with a soaking tub that still fit into a standard 5' x 30" space. The elongated overflow allows you to fill the tub even deeper. It is also an incredibly comfortable tub. Installing the tub and shower plumbing was the only work we didn't do ourselves (thanks again, Logan).

Bracken, who had never been known for his skill as a handyman, did most of the demo, installed the toilet (and has since installed 2 more toilets), did the plumbing on the sink, and installed this light/exhaust fan combo all by himself. He's getting pretty handy now, I'd say.

I painted this cherry tree on the wall, next to which is our ever growing collection of hair clips for our ever growing collection of girls.
And finally, long gone are the days of stained linoleum. Now we have this lovely diagonally set tile.
And there you have it. Our bathroom makeover at long last. Really, I think the most impressive part is that I'm posting this a year after we finished the project by ourselves AND EVERYTHING STILL WORKS! Hooray!

Halloweenie 2

2010-10-15T19:16:00.000-07:00

I wanted to find a way to write this post so that it actually seemed cute and witty, and not show-offy, but I can't. And truly, most of you probably have cuter displays at home, but I'm really enamored of my new decorations this year.

So here is my finished mantle, with the spooky animals I made and the fun banner I printed out. I talked more about that here. I looked all over my house, trying to find spooky books to use, and was about to print out some cute labels like my sister-in-law did, but I really was feeling lazy. Then I finally remembered that we have A WHOLE BOOKSHELF of Alfred Hitchcock books that are more than appropriate for Halloween.

I also love my black painted sticks. Glossy black spray paint is my friend. Especially when it costs $0.97 at Walmart.
And I still love Dollar Tree also. Because when I went back I found cute black glittery friends that I added red gemstone eyes to. And then there are my favorite flowers. I had let a few of my artichokes bloom, because they are beautiful (really, they are. Google it.), and then I let them die and dry out on the plant. I finally was pruning things back and cut off all the dead blooms, with no plans for them other than throwing them in the compost. And then, I had the epiphany. The wondrous thought, 'I could paint these black and they would be cool.' And they were. Amen.

This little guy and his creepy pet greet you as you come in the door.

These fellows have been with us for a few years, but were simple to make and still twist spookily in the wind.
And this sucker can still give me the willies.

The girls and I made this friend last weekend. I can't tell you how many times I have been walking to or from my front door and been totally startled and convinced there is a person sitting in my patio. The girls think he looks just like me. Awesome.
And finally, there's these friends. We made them tonight, and I think they're about the cutest little skeletons I've ever seen. They will be so cute out waving in the breeze in front of my house, but we ran out of daylight.

It wasn't until I was looking at the pictures that I realized I had unintentionally left our little boy one a little more masculine than I had intended. Better fix that.

Here's the skeleton tutorial, if you're interested. You definitely need 4 milk cartons.

Happy Halloween!

Happy 8th Anniversary!

2010-10-04T11:52:00.000-07:00

Engagement Picture, 2002

Sometimes I think my husband has Stockholm S yndro me. The other night I had a massive temper tantrum. The next morning, when I apologized and vented some frustrations, he gave me a big hug and told me how wonderful I was and how he doesn't know what he would do without me. Sounds like a "hostage expressing adulation and having positive feelings towards his captor that appear irrational in light of the danger or risk endured by the victim, essentially mistaking a lack of abuse from his captor as an act of kindness" to me.

Wedding day, 4 October 2002

But seriously, I am so grateful for my husband. He puts up with a lot, and still thinks he's got something good. I know I'm the one who really has something good here.

First Anniversary at the Madonna Inn

Every day, Bracken makes sure the dishes are washed and put away before heading off to work. He also does about 90% of the laundry, including folding and putting away.

Second Anniversary, Monterey Bay

Bracken is a very involved dad. Since Chloe was a baby, he's been in charge of bathtime. So every night, he gets the girls bathed and pajama-ed and usually gets their room all cleaned up, too. He often stops to tell me how much he loves them for various reasons. When I went to New York for "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire," he took care of the girls all by himself, a feat which would have many dads I know quaking in their boots.

December after our 3rd anniversary. I know there's a picture of us on our actual date, but I sure can't find it right now. But I know I was wearing that same sweater.

Bracken is wonderful at supporting whatever my latest whim is. He takes the girls when I fly to New York. Whenever I go to deliver flowers, usually leaving the house strewn with leaves and stems and small pieces of wire and ribbon, I return to find it neatly swept and vacuumed. He is always encouraging me to take time for myself, to go out by myself or with my girlfriends for an evening. He ignores the works in progress that clutter the house, and keeps his mouth shut even though I know it drives him crazy.

Anniversary 4, I think we're at Gunther's? I was going to guess Leatherby's, but they only give you half a cherry on your Sundae.

Bracken has a short memory. I'm often frustrated by it, but there are many times when I am incredibly grateful for his ability to forgive and forget and move forward.

5th anniversary, celebrated early with a trip to Reno for a Michael Buble concert.

Bracken is dependable. He works very hard to fulfill the responsibilities that he has been given, at work, at school, at church, at home. He is also stubborn. This frustrates me, but I am grateful for it also. I am a control freak, and I tend to think I'm always right. But I'm not. I'm glad Bracken can and will stand up to me when I need him to.

6th anniversary, spent on the couch watching General Conference

Bracken likes to bake. He will gladly step up and make the rolls or cookies or cake. On more than one occasion I have had to defer a compliment paid me for something he actually made.

October 2009. No pictures of the actual anniversary, but I finally remembered what we did (we spent a lot of time on our recent getaway trying to remember, but couldn't come up with anything). We went to dinner, and out for ice cream, but I canceled on our movie plans because I was just too tired. But it was a lovely date which Bracken had thoughtfully planned.

Bracken is long suffering. He allows me to dress him up in costumes (which he has hated since childhood) when I decide we need a family theme, or there's a theme at work (and he ends up winning second prize). He puts up with my projects and pitches in when I let him.

Anniversary date #8, a weekend getaway to Squaw Valley

Bracken is complimentary. He always tells me how beautiful I am. Sometimes I have a hard time believing him (like first thing in the morning when my hair is crazy and my mouthguard is giving me an overbite) but I know he always means it.
I sure am grateful that we found each other. Bracken, I love you. And now, to prove it, I'm going to go clean the house and do the dishes. And if, when you get home tonight, for some reason it doesn't look like I actually did those thing, remember that I thought about it, and it's the thought that counts, right? Happy Anniversary!

How to Clean the Couch

2010-09-24T13:33:00.000-07:00

I figure since everyone is posting all sorts of tutorials, I'd go ahead and add one of my own. It had reached that point in my house where simply dabbing at spills on the couch was no longer enough. It was time to clean it FOR REALS. And, because I am so awesome at this, I'm going to share my handy tips with you. I've broken it down into 33 handy steps, each of which is very vital and important.

How To Clean the Couch

Begin by properly motivating yourself. I found that making a healthy smoothie (Fine, it was a milkshake. I was out of yogurt) for your 3 year old and putting it in a cup that tends to leak is a good place to start. The 3 year old will then leave the cup where your toddler can find it, and then, when your back is turned, the toddler will conveniently place the cup on its side, right on the crack between the cushions of your couch. If you're child is as gifted as mine, she will chose the crack in the couch that is over the crack between sections of the couch, enabling the smoothie to drip all the way to the floor. It is best if you wait until the day after, instead of the day before, your garage sale to do this.
Wipe up the liquid as best you can, pull the cushions apart and leave them to dry until you can find the time to clean the couch properly.
Enter the living room the next morning to find your children piling the cushions on top of each other AND THE OPEN COMPUTER. Time out.
Return from dropping your 5 year old off at school to discover your house has a distinctly funky odor. Decide you have found the time to shampoo the couch properly.
Drink a Dr. Pepper. Do not eat lunch.
Put your remaining children down for naps.
Pull the cushions off the couch, pretreating any funky spots you find as you go along. If you discover ball point pen marks, rubbing alcohol will take them right out, even if you've been letting them set for months.
Vacuum a family size box of Fruit Loops, a half a dozen crayons, 3 popsicle sticks, 3 pressed pennies, 5 hair clips and other assorted items out of the couch.
Be disappointed that you didn't find any Dove eggs from Easter like the last time you cleaned the couch.
Pull the sections of the couch apart. You might need to use some muscle to do this if you find the hardware is sealed together with dried sugary saliva.
Discover that in addition to more Fruit Loops, some insects have also made their home in the joints between sections of the couch.
Gag.
Be grateful you didn't eat lunch.
Feel deep shame and remorse. Swear you will never let it get this bad again.
Vacuum it all up.
Pull out your handy dandy carpet shampooer with the upholstery attachment and shampoo all your cushions, as well as the frame of the couch. Wonder for the millionth time how your sainted mother survived 7 kids without a carpet shampooer.
Remember that she was still a better housekeeper than you. See #14.
Move all the sections of the couch away from their current location. Find a curtain rod, a stick, a cardboard tube, a dowel, a yardstick and a princess crown behind the couch. Pat yourself on the back for finding such a great place to stash all long and narrow items that your children like to hit each other with.
Discover that the windowsill behind the couch is covered in dead gnats. And there are dried boogers on your sheers. Again. Decide to take them off and wash them.
As you are taking them off, discover the colony of spiders that has taken up residence on the backs of your drapes. Contemplate leaving them there, because after all, it is almost October, the magical month when spiderwebs and dust are considered decorations. Decide to vacuum them up anyway.
Wonder how your angel mother up in heaven, who had a soft spot in her heart for Halloween, feels about how well you're doing as a homemaker. Worry that perhaps your failings are keeping her from eternal exaltation.
Attempt to find the parts for the vacuum hose, but your 3 year old has now woken up from her nap and is using the tubes as a sword. Take it back and contemplate stashing it behind the couch with other long and narrow items.
Clean off the webs and vacuum the floor. Start to put the couches back in their proper place, then notice that your 3 year old is now spraying spot cleaner all over the sections of the couch you just cleaned.
Leave everything to dry while you rush back to pick up your kindergartner. Get smacked in the head with a stick the three year old found.
#14
Return home, retouch spots on the cushions that are still stiff and nasty because they were so saturated with goo.
Give up. Watch your children play on the disassembled couch like it's an amusement park.
Walk away, return to find Addie has again found the spray bottle of pretreater, filled all your vacuum attachments with it, and re-saturated another of the couch cushions.
Kick all of your children outside.
When everything is dry, move the sections of couch back into their established grooves in the carpet and reattach them. Replace all the cushions.
#14
#14
Repeat in 6 months.

You're welcome.

Goodbye, Sabrina

2010-09-17T19:51:00.000-07:00

As long as we've lived here, this Sabrina poster has hung on the wall. When we moved in, we weren't sure how to decorate the kitchen/dining area, so we just hung a couple vintage posters Bracken had since college on the wall and called it good enough. At least they were vintage. Three plus years later, nothing had changed. Here are Addie and Chloe dyeing Easter eggs this last year.

Here's another shot of Addie and the Sabrina poster.
Here's the real winner, though. While hunting for a good "before" shot of the wall, I found this shot of Addie with the Sabrina poster 2 years ago.It's AWESOME! But not awesome enough for me to not update my dining room.

Since we really don't have the budget for anything major, I've been collecting at yard sales and using coupons (Thank you Kohl's and JCPenny for those $10 off your $10 purchase deals). I got a shelf for free, which I repainted with paint we had in the cupboard. I wanted a real apple-ey green, but didn't have enough yellow, so I'm fine with what I did for free. I picked up some cute milk glass dishes, a vintage plate and some little birds (which I decided not to paint black for Halloween) at yard sales, added a couple pieces of memorabilia from my life and some herbs from my garden, and . . . .

Voila! One excited Chloe!I'm excited, too.

I'm really quite pleased with myself.
Now I just have to keep my fingers crossed that I'll win that set of Fiesta Ware.

It's the tooth

2010-09-17T18:16:00.000-07:00

A little over a month ago, Chloe's tooth started wiggling. She told me it was loose, and I didn't believe her, mainly because I just wasn't prepared to have a child old enough to lose a tooth. But I stuck my finger in there, felt that it was indeed rocking a bit, and immediately welled up with tears.

And then got stressed because I was in the middle of all sorts of craziness preparing for my brother's wedding, and knew I needed to get a tooth fairy pillow made now also. I know, a special pillow is unnecessary for the whole process, but I have that special kind of crazy that dictates that I must have it done for the first one or I won't be able to do it for the next one. I had seen this darling thing before, and got right on making one for the Mannions. I got it done, then had Bracken pick up a roll of gold dollar coins so we would be ready. No scrambling for cash in the middle of the night here. And then the tooth didn't fall out.

We wiggled and wiggled and prodded and pulled and bribed Chloe to let us stick our fingers in her mouth again and again. No go. Then this week I looked in there and saw that not only had Chloe grown in her first big girl molars, she also had a new tooth growing in behind the wiggly one. That would not stand. We doubled our efforts to try and get that tooth out before she started looking too much like a shark. One night ended with Chloe sobbing because there was blood in her mouth, and the tooth still firmly in place. At that point we decided we needed to just let nature take its course and back off, full size permanent tooth in place or not.

A couple days later, after a couple bribed attempts at the tooth, it was still there, but so loose that every time she opened her mouth it was pointing a different direction and making me hear banjos when she smiled. And then she brushed her teeth Wednesday morning.

As they brushed their teeth that day, Chloe and Addie bickered as usual. But this bickering elevated into shoving and ended with a full cup of water splashing all over the bathroom. I sent them both to time out, and as they went, noticed Chloe didn't seem to have a loose tooth anymore.

Please disregard my child's yellow teeth. I swear we brush.

I went to check on Chloe. The tooth was indeed gone. We rushed back to the bathroom to check the sink, but no tooth. I unscrewed the drain cap, still no tooth. I realized that after all the trouble we'd gone through to get this sucker out, it had painlessly exited Chloe's mouth and slid down the drain. And I was going to have to go after it. I waffled for a few minutes, trying to decide if it was really worth it. But then I remembered my crazy (see above), and thought about the pillow that had been waiting for a tooth in its mouth for a month, and decided to go for it. I took that sink apart, praying that the trap had done its job.

And it had! In a slush of nasty water, I poured that tiny little tooth into my hand. That tiny little tooth that had arrived 5 years ago with 3 of its friends all in the same month. A month in which I had a lovely battle with pneumonia. This was a significant tooth. We cleaned it off and put it in a bag to show Dad when he came home.

We did show Dad, then took some pictures and put that little tooth into the mouth of the tooth fairy pillow and tucked it into bed with Chloe. She went to bed, and instead of the silence we were expecting, we heard tears. Bracken went in to check on her and found her sobbing over how much she was going to miss her tooth. (Anyone else thinking future Hoarder here?) He told me later that he had consoled her by telling her how it was the tooth fairy's job to collect teeth and if she couldn't get Chloe's tooth, she would be out of a job and she would die. Lovely. Somehow, though, it did the trick. She went to sleep, we snuck in and made the trade, and the next morning, a very excited little girl found a nice shiny gold coin the the tooth pillow's pocket.

She was so excited, in fact, that I'm concerned that she's going to help other teeth leave her mouth a little ahead of schedule. In the meantime, I'll just enjoy listening to her cute little, tongue in the empty space lisp.

I'm not sure why she's holding everything over her right eye, but we'll just go with that theme.

Tuesdays at Lunch with Addie

2010-09-14T11:32:00.000-07:00

We pulled into the garage after dropping off Chloe at school. I unbuckled the kids and set to work rearranging the carseats in order to provide Addie with her very own row where she can not in any way molester anyone else.

I was almost done when she informed me she needed to go to the bathroom. I helped her out of the front seat of the car, and noticed there were drops of liquid all over the console. I assumed they were from the bottle of water in the console. Until I found Addie in the bathroom with soaking wet pants. I changed her out of them and asked her to get some new panties. The fact that she chose plastic lined training pants doesn't bode well for the rest of the day.

We then sat down for lunch. Here are some snippets.

"Addie, please don't talk with food in your mouth."

"Mom, Luke Skywalker's dad talks with food in his mouth. And Aunt Veru is his mother."

"Mom, I have a brother."

"No, honey, you have two sisters."

Becoming very agitated and bouncing in her seat, "NO! I HAVE A BRO-THER!"

"Really? Who is it?"

"It's someone else I don't know."

"Mom, I want more macaroni."

"We don't have anymore right now."

"Mom, I want toast."

"Do you want brown bread or white bread?"

"I want . . . Brown!"

I get out the brown bread.

"No, I want white."

I put back the brown bread, pick up the white, and--

"No, I want brown."

I put the brown bread in the toaster.

"Mom, I want a sandwich."

"No, I already put the bread in the toaster, you're having toast."

"NO! I want A SANDWICH."

"No, you're having toast."

"I want a toast sandwich."

"Okay. What kind of jam do you want?"

"Um, pear."

She then polishes off the sandwich before I can blink and says, "Mom, strawberry jam is my favorite."

Fine.

Lately Addie has been very whiny and prone to tantrums which appear out of nowhere leaving me wondering how the conversation went so wrong. I finally figured it out. Addie never stops talking. Ever. So, what happens is, she starts talking, telling you something very important to her, and perhaps even asking a question about it, but doesn't ever pause for you to answer her or respond conversationally in any way. Then, still without slowing the stream of words pouring from her mouth, she starts to wind up and whine and soon she's yelling and frustrated because you haven't responded to her, BECAUSE SHE NEVER GAVE YOU A CHANCE TO! This realization has actually made me feel much better about myself because I was really starting to think I wasn't paying enough attention to her.

But for now, we're both going to take naps, so that we can start another round this afternoon, and hopefully I can get some insight into how to limit Addie's influence over this one.

I'm having a love affair with this potato salad

2010-09-08T15:45:00.000-07:00

I really can't get enough of it. It is so delicious to me, and so light and tasty, especially when compared with traditional potato salad. I've only ever made it with dill pickles instead of cornichons, I substituted a shallot for the onion last time, and I love using this seedy dijon mustard I got at Trader Joe's. And, I think I may have left the oil out, and it was still super tasty, and even better for me. And of course, I must credit America's Test Kitchen for the recipe.

Austrian-Style Potato Salad

Serves 4 to 6

The finished salad should be creamy and loose, with chunks of potato that keep their shape but are very tender. If you can’t find cornichons, chopped kosher dill pickles can be used in their place. To maintain its consistency, don’t refrigerate the salad; it should be served within 4 hours of preparation.

Ingredients

2 pounds Yukon Gold potatoes (about 4 large), peeled, quartered lengthwise, and cut into 1/2-inch-thick slices
1 cup low-sodium chicken broth
1 cup water
Table salt
1 tablespoon sugar
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 small red onion , chopped fine (about 3/4 cup)
6 cornichons , minced (about 2 tablespoons) (see note)
2 tablespoons minced fresh chives
Ground black pepper

Instructions

1. Bring potatoes, broth, water, 1 teaspoon salt, sugar, and 1 tablespoon vinegar to boil in 12-inch heavy-bottomed skillet over high heat. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and cook until potatoes offer no resistance when pierced with paring knife, 15 to 17 minutes. Remove cover, increase heat to high (so cooking liquid will reduce), and cook 2 minutes.
2. Drain potatoes in colander set over large bowl, reserving cooking liquid. Set drained potatoes aside. Pour off and discard all but ½ cup cooking liquid (if ½ cup liquid does not remain, add water to make ½ cup). Whisk remaining tablespoon vinegar, mustard, and oil into cooking liquid.
3. Add ½ cup cooked potatoes to bowl with cooking liquid mixture and mash with potato masher or fork until thick sauce forms (mixture will be slightly chunky). Add remaining potatoes, onion, cornichons, and chives, folding gently with rubber spatula to combine. Season to taste with salt and black pepper. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Halloweenie

2010-09-08T15:28:00.001-07:00

I do realize that it's still early September, and I'm way behind on blogging all sorts of other important things, but instead I'm starting some Halloween crafting. I wanted to make these last year, when I saw them on some cute crafting blog that I can no longer find (sorry, I can't give you credit), but never got around to it. And it has haunted me ever since. Which means it must be a really awesome idea.

You start out with some small animal statues. I got most of these at the Dollar Tree. I've also been hunting at garage sales, which is why you should get started now if you want to get these made before Halloween.

Now here's the tricky part. You spray paint them glossy black. I used the 98 cent spray paint from Walmart. Then you glue on red rhinestone eyes. Instant spooky little decoration. I know the pictures aren't great, and I haven't fully decorated for Halloween yet (I'm going to add some black painted branches), but I wanted to get the idea out there now.
And all these cute little pumpkins? Totally got them at the Dollar Tree too. I heart the Dollar Tree.

Next I'm going to start working on this.

Butter Cookies

2010-08-05T21:47:00.000-07:00

Because a friend recently requested the recipe, and because I've never posted it here, and because they're awesome and I really shouldn't be eating them on my diet, I will now share with you my butter cookie recipe in the hopes that you will indulge for me. They are divine, and sinful, all rolled up into one.

My family got the recipe from a sweet little Danish woman named Katherine Baccigalupe. We must always give her credit for the deliciousness.

Katherine Baccigalupe's Butter Cookies
1 lb. salted butter, softened overnight
2 cups sugar, sifted
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 cups flour, sifted

Beat butter and sugar together well. Beat in egg and vanilla until mixture lightens in color. Gradually sift in salt and flour (sifting is very important for your dry ingredients for both texture, and to ensure that the dough doesn't clog the cookie press). Mix until well combined. Fill cookie press using rectangle disk (it produces long, thin strips of dough. Usually has one flat side and one ridged side). Press out into long strips on cookie sheet. Bake 10 minutes at 375 degrees or until golden and just starting to brown at edges. Remove from oven and immediately cut at an angle into 2" strips with the edge of a spatula while still on tray. Transfer to cooling rack and let cool completely.

Bracken likes to melt chocolate, and dip the cookies into the chocolate and then into chopped nuts. I've tried making them in other shapes, and unfortunately, the dough is so buttery that it's difficult to get them to stay on the tray--they tend to get stuck in the press. Plus, the long thin cookies are crisper and tastier.

The Prize, and the Price

2010-08-05T08:41:00.000-07:00

The prize

The price
The prize
The price
The prize
The price--Several months ago as I was rummaging through the spices in the cupboard next to my stove, a glass jar fell out, hit the edge of my glass cooktop, and cracked it. It cracked across the smallest burner that I use the least, and I figured I could make do with only 3 burners on the stove. Then this week, I put a hand on the cooktop as I leaned over to help Chloe with her workbook, and cracked it right across the biggest burner that I use all the time. Suck. So, now I'm down to two working burners on my stove, and no budget to take care of it at the moment. And I need to can, because ripening produce waits for no one. So, I stuck my canner on the burner on the grill outside, which actually kept my kitchen much cooler. So, it ended up being a win. Except that I would prefer to keep my canner outside and yet still have a working stove inside.

But here's your helpful hint for the day. Boiling water takes out fruit juice stains. Just pour it over and they are gone, immediately. I'm amazed every time.

Pioneer Day Camping

2010-07-27T20:15:00.000-07:00

We recently celebrated Pioneer Day. If you don't remember what that is, read here. This year we decided to camp out at our stake center the night before. The girls were very excited, as you can see below.
My very favorite moment of the whole campout was when I was walking with Chloe to the bathroom shortly after we arrived. We passed some drooping Lilies of the Nile and Chloe said, "Mom, I think those flowers are bowing to me. I think it's because they think I'm a god." There are no words.

There were a variety of other people camping out, but no other families from our congregation. Losers. It was fun camping. There were bathrooms nearby, grass to camp on, a movie with popcorn and homemade rootbeer (though I will admit, we ditched the movie because the kids were tired and it was Legacy, and Legacy hurts my testimony). The only wild animals were the packs of preteen boys roaming around, and one strange man who we heard state, "Since my wife left, my spirituality has increased like, 200%.

Even Maggie was very pleased with the experience.
The next morning, Addie woke up dry, and then when I took her to the bathroom, she went #1 and #2. It was pretty exciting. I also learned during that visit to the bathroom that 3 out of 4 children cannot flush toilets with the button flusher on top.

After getting dressed, we joined the crowds for the pancake breakfast. After breakfast, the activities started. Our stake really goes all out. There was a petting zoo, which Maggie thought was awesome.
We all got to touch a chinchilla for the first time.
Maggie just wanted to get back down with the animals.
There were 3 different bounce houses.
There were many crafts.
There was face painting.

There was a cotton candy machine.
Everyone enjoyed that. Well, it took a little coaxing with Maggie. In fact, Bracken had to pinch her nose so she'd open her mouth, then he shoved some in. We are wonderful parents.
There were horseback rides. Here's Addie on Janice.
Chloe was reunited with her beloved horse, Jet. She rode him last year on Pioneer Day, and has identified every brown horse she's seen since as "Jet."
There was slip'n'sliding.
There was sleeping on little hands, leaving finger marks on little foreheads.
I had a pie in competition over at the pavilion, and I won that blue ribbon!
It was all so exciting that even after we came home, Maggie wouldn't take a nap in her crib. She finally conked out, sitting up on the couch.
For those of you who could have attended, but didn't, you should pencil it in for next year. Chloe told me multiple times that it was the best day ever. Of course, she has said that about every day since her birthday, but hey, she's got a great life.

A new post, wherein I discuss irony, and lady business.

2010-07-16T14:47:00.000-07:00

I woke up with a start at 4 this morning. I reached down a hand and discovered that despite doubling up on extra protection, Aunt Flo had extended her visit and soaked through my sheet and thick mattress pad. I woke my husband up with a swear word. (Never fear, though, somehow my muumuu escaped unscathed.)

On a normal day, I would have been irritated, but would have immediately thrown the mess in the wash, after my husband woke up for real. But not today. Today I just bent over and took another beating from the irony stick.

On Tuesday, as I was waiting for the 6 yards of eyelet I had just dyed navy to finish washing, I noticed things inside the washer weren't spinning. I pulled the fabric out, hoped it had been rinsed enough, and threw in the dryer. I tried starting a couple different cycles on the washer, but to no avail. The tub just wasn't moving. And it probably hadn't been moving for a while, because when I checked on the fabric in the dryer, I found it had dyed the whole tub blue. That was easily fixed. The washer not so much. No repair person for a week.

So we vowed to try and make it a low laundry week. Bracken was even going to cut back on his fresh towel every day habit. This vow, of course, meant that Addie immediately had an accident on the bathroom rug. And has pooped in her panties every day since. There was one day when she pooped in the potty first thing in the morning. I thought, Hooray! We're in the clear for the day, since she usually only poops once. Except that that day, with irony coaching over her shoulder, she also pooped in her swimsuit and her panties. Any consideration I ever gave to cloth diapers is now gone. I can't give up on the potty training since it has taken us so long to get this far and on the whole, she really is doing well. But everyday it gets harder and harder not to call the poop by it's bluer name.

And then I go and make the biggest mess my sheets have seen since we were newlyweds.

Tonight, for the first time since I was a missionary, I will be trucking all the worst stuff down to the laundromat, or washeteria as they were known in Texas. I know I'll get some looks when I wear gloves to load all my stuff. I might even have to go outside to escape the looks, and the smell that will probably linger. But right outside the laundromat is our favorite doughnut store, and I really don't need that temptation, so . . .

But all these messes are not the biggest irony. No, not by far. On Sunday night I was chatting with a couple friends online. It turned out one, who has 6 small kids, had had a broken washer for some time. The other friend let me know where we could pick up a free one that night. I sent Bracken out with friend #1's husband and they went and picked it up. As I was chatting with her, I said, "I can't imagine have 6 kids and not having a working washing machine."

And while I was still patting myself on the back for helping this friend out, BAM. Down came the irony stick.

In the future, I will only use the phrase, "I can't imagine . . ." in potentially positive situations. Such as:

I can't imagine having a million dollars.
I can't imagine being trim and fit and not having to work at it.
I can't imagine feeling well rested.

I'm still hesitant though. That irony stick is sneaky. I bet it will still find a way to brain me. And this time, it might hurt my muumuu, too.

I still burn easily

2010-07-14T09:12:00.000-07:00

I am a redhead. This may not be so obvious now. Aging and pregnancies and life have not been kind to my original hair color. I know I always said I wanted curly hair, but I never imagined I would get it in the form of white, curly hairs that sprout wildly from my straight, brownish locks.

Physically, my Addie is my clone. Bright blue eyes, straight, screaming red hair. I look at the picture above and see she even has the same baby teeth I had. Addie also has the whitest skin. I am continually amazed at how pale it is, unless she's running, and then, like her mother, she turns bright red and gets immediately drenched in sweat. No matter how much sunscreen I apply, she burns for nothing. Put Addie in the sun, and she is immediately a tomato.

And that is where we differ in our coloring.

From my mom, I got my red hair. From my dad, I got skin that tans. And eyebrows that are not invisible. I can handle sun exposure better than the average red head. As long as I'm careful, and don't spend too long in the sun at any one time and wear sunscreen when I can, I don't burn. And if I do burn, it usually turns tan in a day or two. Very rarely do I get bad burns any more.

I wish I could say the same for my insides.

Generally, I'd say I'm a pretty confident person. I wasn't always, but I think I am now. I try to do the best I can, cut myself some slack when I can't, and try to allow others the same leeway. I try to take this quote from Brigham Young to heart,

He who takes offense when offense was not intended is a fool, yet he who
takes offense when offense is intended is an even greater fool for
he has succombed to the will of his adversary.

I try to reach outside myself, put myself in situations where there is the potential to be burned, and generally, I emerge unscathed. I'm often even better for it. I try to start conversations with people when I'm feeling shy, host playdates when I'm feeling reclusive, and have a sense of humor about the various and sundry humiliations that come with being human.

Sometimes I get a little burned. Sometimes my efforts are rebuffed. Sometimes invitations are not reciprocated. Sometimes I am ignored. Sometimes others are offended when I intended no offense at all. I try to apologize, forgive and forget and the burn turns into a tan.

But there are times when I feel like I fell asleep on a reflective raft in the middle of of a sparkling lake in the full sun on the longest day of the year wearing a skimpy two piece (which would have been a mistake in an of itself) and now I have second and third degree burns all over my body and they're contemplating doing grafts. Days when I feel like I have no real friends, that I am replaceable in my family, that my efforts to give service have been reciprocated with a slap in the face. Days when I vascillate between thinking I'm just too needy and wondering if I my efforts to look like I've got things kind of together make it look like I'm not needy enough. Days when I just feel lonely, and wish someone would reach out to me.

Days like today.

I realize this burn, too, will heal. I know with time, I'll be able to pull long strips of dead tissue away, and maybe even enjoy the process. But today, today I think I'd better stay out of the sun.

Sandbox

2010-07-11T18:08:00.000-07:00

At first I was all, good times in the sandbox. Good times.
And then I was all, now I'm cold and gritty and I got sand where?

Improvements

2010-07-06T08:55:00.000-07:00

I've been working a few facelift projects around the house lately. Nothing major, just little things that brighten the room a bit.

Three years ago I made these throw pillows. This blue pattern was never my favorite to begin with, but was made worse by a mistake. We learned the hard way that if you wipe spit up and other child goo off this shade of blue fabric with a baby wipe, the dye comes off, too and you end up with pink. How blue turns into pink, I have no idea, but that is not a kool-aid stain on that there pilla.

So I decided that I should make a couple new shams. They were inspired by this sham at West Elm, but using fabric I already had. Depending on your perspective, my fabric choice was either very good or very bad. Either it's very tacky that I used the scraps of outdoor fabric I had recently reupholstered by outdoor furniture in, or it's genius that my front room is coordinated with my back yard!
Either way, the couch looks much improved. So then I decided to clear off this table. It's right by my front door, and while I love looking at all the pictures of family and friends, it had gotten decidedly busy.

So now it looks like this.

Now for the best one. As long as we've been in our house, the wall by the front door has bothered me. I have a beautiful picture of Christ that I love, but I also have had an ugly alarm box that is not connected and throws off the balance of the whole wall. I finally took a hint from another blog, which I would credit but I can't remember, on how to hide ugly thermostats on walls. I took a before picture with my camera, but can't seem to locate it anywhere. I took a new one today of the halfway finished project. Bracken took the good camera to work today, so I had to resort to using Chloe's new VTech kidzoom camera. That accounts for the low quality of the pictures. Really, it's not just my poor photography skills.

I even put a little frame on it just to prove my point.
Here's the alarm box with a pirate hat, which still didn't make it cute.
So, as you may have noticed, I added a little shelf (a shelf that came to me free from my brother's new house, plus a couple coats of paint) under the alarm box. Then I added a picture and some candles and voila! A lovely decorative moment, and no more ugly alarm box. Now if only I could move the airconditioner intake vent.

And now for the final improvement. You see these big and beautiful muffins (Seriously, that's the name of the recipe, plus some of my own streusel topping)? Well they are history. As in I ate all of them. Okay, I didn't actually, but I AM going to be seriously limiting my consumption of them. In preparation for my baby brother's upcoming nuptials in August, Bracken and I are embarking on a weight loss/fitness journey/competition. We are both in desperate need of this improvement, though I must say, when Bracken weighed in this morning, my first thought was, Wow, for the first, and probably only, time in our marriage, my husband actually outweighs me by about 20 pounds! I might be a little sad to lose that glimpse of feeling like a small, dainty woman. But hey, hopefully I will be smaller and daintier for real soon. However, I will still have tree trunks for legs. It just goes with the territory.

While you were gardening . . .

2010-06-08T10:53:00.000-07:00

It's a beautiful day. I put my Maggie down for her nap, my Maggie who has 8 teeth and took her first steps on Saturday, and went outside to plant my new hydrangeas. As I was digging and weeding and enjoying myself, I kept ignoring the prompting to check on Addie. Chloe came outside and I asked her where Addie was. She didn't know. And yet I was so enjoying myself that I still didn't go in to check on her. Eventually, I popped my head in the door, checked the baby monitor, saw the back of Addie's head watching TV, and went back outside.

A few minutes later, I hear the door open and this comes out.Wait, that's not quite it. It had a whole lot more black on it. I think it was more like this.

Yeah, that's more the expression it had, too. It was a slightly messier application. It might have been a post modern interpretation of KISS, but it certainly didn't look like my Addie. I immediately asked her what she did it with. First she took me to the whiteboard markers, which scared me greatly. We're about to go on a trip, and I'd prefer to do that with an unmarked child. It didn't look like marker, though, so I decided to look in my room. However, I put her in timeout first.

A note--my bedroom door is always closed tightly, with a child proof cover on the knob as added security. Addie has proven in the past that she is just not to be trusted. But as I walked down the hall, I saw this.

I went in my bathroom, and saw this. Sneaky little child. She had put everything away, but there was still evidence of her mischief.

I opened the bag and found this. Another note--this mascara is awesome and I'll tell you why. Forget the cheesy "beauty tubes" commercials. I haven't paid attention to whether or not it actually lengthens my lashes. What I love about it is that it doesn't smudge and it doesn't cry off. However, it does come off easily with warm water. So, waterproof mascara that is easy to remove when it's time to take it off. The one disclaimer is that the "beauty tubes" do collect in little clumps and look like dead spiders in your sink. But it's worth it.
Here's the inside of my make up bag. Hooray for mineral powder foundation! Really, I do love it, but it sure does spread easily.
I left the bathroom, shaking my head at her ingenuity, and noticed this.
And then I saw the splash on the doorframe. Addie is nothing if not thorough.
By the time I finished inspecting and photographing her work, she had also worked up some fake tears and smeared off most of her artwork. I really am disappointed that I didn't get a better picture of it.
These next few are pretty awesome in their own right. Apparently ingesting and/or painting that much makeup directly into your eyes makes you a little slow.
And unable to close your mouth.
Oh, Addie.
I sure love you anyway.

Hello?

2010-05-19T21:16:00.001-07:00

Um, yeah, so it's been a month and a half since I posted. I am awesome at blogging. But maybe this picture will help you forgive me.

It's been a pretty busy month and a half. I still haven't posted about Disneyland. Or my trip to Utah with all three girls all by myself. Or getting ready for a baby shower at my house justifying the facelift of my entire backyard. Or finally finishing the bathroom remodel. Or my baby sister visiting.

But I will.

Just not tonight.

Tonight I will mention a few favorites.

Addie singing, "SupercalifragilisticGetMeOutOfHere!" No idea where she came up with that.

Maggie growling, "Uh-Muh," in Cookie Monster voice while I'm getting ready to nurse her.

And Chloe telling me what she wants to perform for the Primary talent show is a rock star dance. I'm a little afraid. Because though I have not taught her these moves, she already knows how to drop it like it's hot and back it up.

Remember St. Patrick's Day?

2010-04-09T21:42:00.000-07:00

The night before St. Patrick's Day, we sat down to make our Leprechaun trap. We bought Lucky Charms to bait it with, which brought out the Irish appetite in all the Mannions.

Can I Lucky Charm you?
Oh, yes I can!
The girls got down to serious work.
And Daddy helped, too.
They set up the trap in a new spot.
And in the morning, there were green footprints!
And this little stinker. Why am I even trying to catch another leprechaun?
They followed the path . . .
all the way to the trap.
Rats! He got away again! But he did leave gold and movies and Irish potatoes.

Chloe didn't take the loss of the leprechaun lying down. Next year, leprechaun, next year.

Easter Eggstravaganza

2010-04-09T20:39:00.000-07:00

The night before Easter, while Bracken was at Priesthood Session, we dyed our Easter eggs. I asked the girls to pose for a picture. Addie, as always when given directions, went deaf. And Chloe gave me, "Really? I am so beyond this?" And I was like, "Really, you are 4. Four! Smile for the camera!"
At least Maggie gave me a wonderful smile.
Oh, her dirty, runny nosed smile. With one ear that sticks out. Dang, she's cute.
As I was mixing up the colors, I discovered one of the tablets was brown. Seriously, brown. Who wants brown Easter eggs? Well, Addie for one. I couldn't keep her eggs out of the brown dye. And when I told Bracken about it, he shared with me that she'd told him earlier in the day that she wanted to dye her eggs brown. And the point goes to the egg dye kit manufacturers.
And Chloe condescended to give me a hint of a smile.
The next morning, she was definitely excited, though. And look how cute the back of Addie's head is. And her little slippered feet.
Maggie was excited with her haul, too. We got her some fruit squeezers from Trader Joe's--they are the bomb. Totally saved our bacon at Disneyland.
And as the girls sorted through their goods, Chloe was most excited about--the grass?
We watched General Conference that morning while snacking on candy. Bracken also took the girls to see his mom in the hospital--she spent the holiday being treated for a variety of problems, but is generally doing much better. That afternoon, the rest of Bracken's family, and our friends the Morris' came over for dinner and our annual egg hunt. Here are all the kids waiting while the eggs are hidden.
"So, Will, do you think we hid enough eggs?" "I don't know, Bracken. I can hardly see any."

And here are our happy hunters, getting last minute instructions from Bracken. Notice the use of the hand.
They are so excited.
And they're off. Look at that cute Gigi. Oh, I could squeeze her.

Chloe got right down to business.

Addie needed a little help.
Me and my cute husband. Sure love him and all he does for us.
Autumn and Syrus
Is that a pink one, Mom? I only want pink ones.
Grandpa Jack, Gigi and Eden.
Daddy helping Addie
Chloe, Isaac and Autumn, and my lovely green garden.
And then they went inside and dug in. Addie ate herself into a stupor, then left half a Cadbury Creme egg, sticky side down, in the carpet.
Bracken helped Chloe empty all her eggs.
Isaac and Autumn, with Addie and Gigi passed out in the background.
And let's not forget this sweet little grinner. She was napping during the official hunt, but has been constantly on the prowl for stray treats ever since.

Pasta with Ham and Peas

2010-04-09T20:03:00.001-07:00

This recipe is a fast favorite. It's great if you have leftover ham or leftover pasta.

8 oz. uncooked pasta--we like bowties, or "butterflies" if you ask Addie
2 T butter, give or take
1 T olive oil, or so
2-3 cloves garlic, minced (and by minced, I mean use a garlic press on it. Who really wants to mince garlic, besides the Pioneer Woman?)
8 oz. ham cut into 1/2 to 1 inch pieces
8 oz. frozen peas, and/or french cut green beans
2-3 T lemon juice
zest of one lemon
1 T fresh basil or parsley, minced
Parmesan

Bring med pot of water to boil, season with salt and add pasta. While pasta is cooking, melt butter and olive oil in large saute pan over med. high heat. Add garlic and cook for about 30 seconds, until garlic is fragrant but not brown. Add ham and cook and stir until heated through and slightly browned. Stir in frozen vegetables and cook until thawed. The pasta should be about done by this point. Drain cooked pasta and add to pan with ham and veggies (or add your leftover cooked pasta and heat through). Add basil, lemon zest and juice to taste. Season with salt and pepper to taste. At this point you can either stir in the Parmesan, or sprinkle it over individual servings. Very simple, very fast and very tasty.

Accident Prone

2010-03-31T07:53:00.000-07:00

From the beginning, my girls have been little monkeys. They love to climb and explore and test the limits of their physical skills. Clearly imprinted on my brain is the image of the skinny little leg of an 18 month old Chloe sticking out of some tall playground equipment as she contemplated whether or not she could leap from that height. I learned to stay back and let them explore. The only times Chloe ever got hurt were when other people interfered and "helped" her. I learned one caveat to that rule on our trip to Disneyland this last week. When my girls get tired, they get very, very accident prone.

Despite our best efforts to keep the girls well rested during our trip, there is just too much excitement at Disneyland. The third night we were there, we stopped in at the Golden Horseshoe and caught the Billy Hill and the Hillbillies show. After the show, I got in line for dinner. While paying for my food, Addie was monkeying around on the rope barriers. Suddenly, there was a huge crash as she fell from the ropes, and the back of her head connected with the brass base of the pole. I'm pretty sure everyone in the restaurant heard it as I scrambled to collect her, and Chloe and get my card and receipt from the cashier who was frantically waving it at me as if it was the most important piece of business going on right then.

I got Addie calmed down and we ate our dinner. We started cleaning up and getting ready to go. Out of the corner of my eye, I registered that Chloe was rocking in her chair, seconds before it crashed to the ground and she smacked the back of her head. It didn't make nearly the sound Addie's did--hard wood doesn't reverberate like hollow brass--but her shrieks of pain and shock more than made up for it. We immediately packed up and headed back to the hotel for the night.

The next day, we played at Disneyland and played at the beach, and all the girls got naps. It soon became obvious that the naps were not long enough. After dinner that night, and before bedtime, we headed back to the park for a couple more rides. In the line for the first ride, Chloe suddenly started crying and I looked to find blood pouring from her bottom lip. Apparently, she took the name of the ride, Heimlich's Chew Chew Train, quite literally. After I refused a trip to First Aid for her, she got the consolation prize of an "Official Citizen of Disneyland" button. So, blood=citizenship. Remember that one folks.

We rode the ride, then went to the next one. While waiting to ride Flick's Flyers, the kids were again climbing on the line barriers. And suddenly, there was another one down. Addie was flat on her back, another near miss concussion. After the ride (no matter how severe the injury, we can't skip the ride!), we immediately headed back to the hotel.

In all, we spent 5 fun filled days at Disneyland. We got home from the park yesterday, and as I was unloading and unpacking the car, I thought about the fun that we'd had and the new information I had about my girls' limits. I wondered just where they got this exhaustion fueled attraction to disaster from. Then, as I opened it, I smacked myself hard in the face with the car door.

I wonder how many naps I will need to take before the knot on my forehead goes down?

Lovely

2010-03-21T20:15:00.001-07:00

I took a few minutes to capture my girls this morning before church because they were all just so cute.

Addie came running in declaring, "Mom, I put my tights on all by myself!"

It's hard to see in these pictures just how baggy and elephant like her legs were since she had not put on her tights, but Chloe's tights.

And she refused to keep her skirt down while I photographed her. But doesn't her hair look cute?

Then Chloe came out and started posing. As a result of her dance classes, she can now do the cutest curtsies.

And I love her smile. I love all my girls' smiles.

Though for some reason, no one is really smiling in this picture.

And here, no one is actually smiling at the camera.

But this little girl loves to smile at the camera. She just loves to smile, period.

And be just plain charming. Oh, how my heart melts.

It melts for each one of them, each doing their own thing, in their own way.

And then there's this girl

2010-03-16T15:38:00.001-07:00

My Adelicious. She certainly keeps me on my toes. Was she supposed to be gorging herself on See's suckers? Of course not. And if I'd asked her what they tasted like, I know she would have replied, "Stawbries." Occasionally, something tastes like mint, or lemonade, but most of the time, it's strawberries. Which fortunately, are, "Too-isus."
Is she supposed to be running wild with rings during gymnastics class? Nope, not that either. But isn't her little leotarded body the cutest?
I have to remind myself how cute she looks and how good the experience is for her because most of the time, I just find it exhausting. She seems to go deaf as soon as we enter the gym and though her Mommy and Me class is very loosely structured, it still seems to be too rigid for her. And she can't jump on the trampoline. She squats and kind of hops, but doesn't really clear any air. Kind of like watching a duck try to jump. So she returns to running around in circles on her tiptoes.

This is her daily uniform. Whatever she happens to be wearing, be it pajamas, jeans or a dress (and she would usually prefer it to be a dress), she always adds princess shoes, a purse on each wrist and a baby under each arm. While she tends to be much more of a bruiser than Chloe was, Addie also loves to dress up, take care of baby dolls and play with Barbies much more than Chloe ever did. For all of her wild child leanings, she really can be very sweet. And a ham.
This was a special day.
She painted the bookshelf, the bins and the books, fortunately with washable paint. I made her stay in timeout the entire time I was cleaning it up, then sent her outside to prevent further indoor destruction. Once outside, she found the paint roller Bracken had partially cleaned and she painted our porch with interior latex. I managed to scrub that off, then went out front to take a look at my flowers. She started climbing the rough wooden wall that separates our driveway from our neighbor's, which for some reason she calls "Lesson Number One" (that's the name of her favorite song from Mulan II, but I don't get the relation). She fell off said wall and ended up with multiple scrapes as well as half a dozen splinters. She was very patient though, making the splinter removal the easiest clean up of the day.

And there's that grin again. It's the only one I can ever capture on camera.
But I love her smile, no matter what kind of trouble she's using it to get out of.
This outfit was a personal favorite. It's her standard uniform, but the dress and the hat with the long beads are such a 20's win. If she'd had her way, she would be wearing the BCBG pumps I found at the thrift store the other day. I couldn't get them away from her for a couple days. Girl knows a quality pair of shoes when she sees 'em.
Another favorite Addie-ism lately is "company." As in "Babies are very soft, warm and company (cuddly)." Every day when she takes her nap, I read her a book in her bed before she goes to sleep. She then cuddles with the book and rereads it until she falls asleep. Because she is my daughter. I'll often take the easy way out and deliberately choose a short book. We've read "Babies" so often that she has the entire text memorized and can recite it with a minimal amount of prompting.

For all her crazy, I sure love this kid. She never stops surprising me and making me laugh.

And I will take full responsibility for this outfit. "Welcome to Music Town" anyone? I know, totally inappropriate, but I couldn't help myself. I guess I know where Addie gets it after all.

And this girl

2010-03-09T19:54:00.001-08:00

My sweet Chloe girl. I haven't blogged nearly enough about her lately. Part of the problem is that seemingly overnight the age of "everything that comes out of her mouth is totally hilarious" ended, and the world of "big girl who is usually more wise than funny, and prone to bursting into spontaneous tears when you laugh at her when she doesn't mean to be funny" began. Seriously, the crocodile tears are amazing. Almost instantaneous, overflowing eyes as soon as her feelings are the slightest bit dented. I worry that she will become dehydrated.

The other problem is that she is my oldest daughter and a wonderful helper and all the small acts of service she performs all day often go unannotated. I swore that as an oldest daughter myself I would never abuse the gift that an oldest child can be, but I'm afraid I often take Chloe for granted. I don't know what I would do without her. There is no way I could handle all three of them (assuming desperately trying to keep up with Addie can be considered "handling" her) if I didn't have Chloe by my side. She is a mini mom in so many ways. As exemplified by the picture below, proving that I am spending a little too much time on the computer.

In an effort to better document the inner workings of her "head brain," I took notes the other day while we were having lunch. Unfortunately, my notes and my memory aren't that great, and her trains of thought are quite inventive, so I can't piece it all back together. But the randomness of the notes themselves is pretty representative of the whole. We discussed

Long nails
How snail trails help the earth (how different things help the other is a major topic of conversation)
The need to be gentle on soft bones because they are the only bones we have
"I think Maggie thinks it's medicine"

Then she looked out the window and exclaimed, "Mom, it's snowing!" I looked out and saw the wind blowing the petals of the almond blossoms across the yard, and had to agree.

Tonight at Costco, someone mentioned how cute Addie was, and I, exhausted after dealing with a child in the throes of 2 1/2 year old dependent independence, told the woman she could have Addie. To which Chloe added, "But if you take her, you have to love her!"

Chloe also desperately loves Maggie. She is always asking to hold her and carry her around, even if Maggie is not interested in the trip. It is amazing helpful, though, to have someone around who can pick up Maggie and bring her to me or remove her from danger if need be. Or run and get me a diaper or a glass of water. And who can get her own snacks, since she needs a snack at least every 20 minutes. And who will "read" stories to both of her sisters when Mom is busy. It will be very exciting when she can read for real. She did sound out and spell her first word the other day. She drew a picture about "The Emperor's New Groove" and labeled it Cosco (Cuzco). I was impressed.
Chloe is very aware of relationships with boys and girls. This is her and her friend Josh in a box. Her friend Josh who she prayed for months would decide not to be a firefighter and just be a dad. Dads are very important to Chloe.
We were at Old Navy the other day, and I had the two younger girls loaded up in the stroller. A male employee walked by and jokingly asked if he could have a ride. With a smile I replied, "Only if you promise to stay in your seat and not touch anything!" As soon as he was gone, Chloe turned to me and said, indignantly, "Mom--you're not supposed to talk to other boys--only to Dad!"

She is becoming quite competitive. She only wants to do things she can win at. Which doesn't remind me of anyone who lives inside my head at all. Every night she and Addie race to see who can get into their pajamas first. Last night she was excitedly celebrating her victory when she stopped and said, "Ooops. I forgot to put on my underwear!"

I need to remember that incident, not just because it was funny, but because she actually forgot something. This child has a memory like an elephant, unless it's related to what happened at church that day. Then her mind goes extraordinarily blank. But I know it's sinking it. There's a church song she loves that says, "I am a builder, working each day, to build my family." She certainly does that, whether it's helping set the table and fill the glasses every night, or praying every day that my hands will feel better, or begging to help a little more with Maggie, my Chloe is certainly doing her part to build our family.

Oh, this girl

2010-03-04T19:34:00.000-08:00

If you can tell me how this kid could be cuter, please don't. Because I just don't think I could stand it.

She has the best cheeks for kissing and squishing.

And this smile, oh, this smile.

And this smile, with gums tightly pressed together, the new teeth that arrived the last week of January peeking out.

And the nose all wrinkled up as she smiles at Chloe.

And she loves to eat everything. Seriously--not a rejected food yet. She was a little hesitant about cereal, but she's warming up to it. However, when it comes to drinking, she absolutely rejects formula. As in gagging, dry heaving, rejects formula.

And then there's her personality. I have long maintained that 3rd children are either angels or demons, multiply and replenish or birth control. This one just couldn't be sweeter. We started gymnastics classes for Addie and Chloe in January. Addie's class is a Mommy and me class, so I keep Maggie in her seat, give her a bottle of juice, and hope for the best. And every week, she stays in her seat, drinks her juice, and watches the class, hardly making a peep.

She loves to entertain herself, and will just play and play as long as her sisters don't take away all her toys. They're going to have a harder time doing that now that as of today, she is officially crawling. And I'm going to have to become a better housekeeper.

Also today, as Bracken was walking out the door, he said, "Bye-bye." It was amazing. Okay, fine, it wasn't amazing. What was amazing was that Maggie then said, "Buh-buh," in reply. We were shocked. At the risk of making her think we were getting rid of her, we told her, "Bye-bye," a few more times, and she replied, "Buh-buh," every time. How did she get so big?
And cheesy?

I'm sure glad she came to stay with us. And so is Chloe, because now she eternally has someone to photobomb .