Why We're Getting A Baby Gate

Dear Son,

I'm really glad you're learning so much and growing up to be a curious, adventurous boy. I'm sure the world is a fantastically interesting place to you, with new experiences to be had every single day. You have no sense of fear...which, I imagine, you will use to your advantage as an adult.

However, Sweetheart, I must admit that this climbing on the kitchen table thing is getting a teensy bit wearing. Catching you fishing in the cookie jar a while ago was pretty darn cute. Catching you fishing in the peanut butter jar last week was, I have to say, slightly less endearing. And that thing on Sunday where you individually mashed into the floor a whole bag's worth of grapes while we weren't paying attention? Left a big, sticky mess, Honey. Yesterday when you dumped a bag of cereal all over the floor in the seconds it took me to get your sister a clean pair of socks...you know, that was kind of a hassle to clean up. And let's not even talk about Friday when you helped yourself to fist-fulls of freshly-baked pumpkin chocolate bundt cake right before my friend's baby shower. Yes, I cut out the part you mangled and took it anyway, and yes, the chocolate stains you made in the living room will probably come out, but that's not the point.

The point is, enjoy your freedom tomorrow...because party's over, bud.

-Mom

Your Quiz of the Day

1. Find the DVD player remote.
2. Identify which helpful toddler tried to put it away for us.
3. Guess how many hours of searching it took to find it.

Hand in the cookie jar

B. is a climber. If he sees an opportunity for a higher vertical vantage point, he never lets it pass. I've seen him standing on the topmost edge of the little slide climber toy on our porch, with one foot on top of the other...because, you know, that extra inch might just make a difference.

Naturally, this is bad news for Mom and Dad:

And good news for B:

E: "a hundred million snails!" & B: "ROAR!"

One of the problems with blogging is that it is subject to what M. and I call the "home teaching effect". Say you're a well-intentioned home teacher (or visiting teacher), but you get busy and miss a month or two. Naturally you feel guilty about it and mean to really do a good job next month. But then, you want to do such a good job that it'll take more time than you typically have, so you put it off. Pretty soon you're pushing it out of your mind because it makes you feel bad...and then even avoiding your teachees in the halls at church. The only real cure for this self-perpetuating problem is to face up to the fact that you're never going to get around to doing a really great job, kick yourself into at least a phone call, and try to regain some semblance of self-respect.

I have this issue with blogging. (And thank-you cards, but that's another post altogether.) I keep meaning to post birthday photos, back-to-school photos, this awesome video compilation of our Disneyland trip from last December...etc. And I think, "I can't post something new if I haven't posted X yet!" But...alas, obviously this strategy isn't working for me. And so, I humbly offer a few recent photos and videos. If I get to it, I'll post that other stuff. And if I don't, at least there will be these.

This video is of E. presenting her poster in her kindergarten class when she was Friend of the Week. Notice her request at the end. When she asked, her teacher looked at me to see what I thought, and I shook my head because E. and I hadn't prepared for it. I wanted us to have another day or so to practice so everything could go smoothly. But...

Use the password: "keepsafe"

...but E. was so crushed at the prospect of not getting her single Friend of the Week request of reading the book at storytime that we went for it. (We have a great teacher who was very patient and let us do it after E. was so visibly disappointed and I agreed to it.) And just so you know, this is long and pretty boring for non-grandparents, so I forgive you if you skip most of it.

Use the password: "keepsafe"

One more. B. went as a lion to the ward Halloween party, so we taught him to roar. He just decided last week that walking was the way to go (he's been able to walk for over a month, but until last week, preferred to crawl), and he's been upright ever since.

Use the password: "keepsafe"

GOAL: Catch a Bird

Yes, they came up with this themselves.

No, they haven't caught one yet. Maybe tomorrow.

Chaos

At our house we obey the laws of thermodynamics.

As time increases, we tend toward entropy.

Benji "Talks"

Benji is becoming quite the conversationalist. We've been teaching him baby sign language, and he's starting to grasp it bit by bit. Two funny stories:

The sign for "more" is kind of like clapping, with each hand's fingers together in a point. We make this sign when Benji is eating, then give him more of whatever he's munching on. The other day he was nibbling on cheerios and bits of cheese. I was sitting near him, absent-mindedly snacking on stray cheerios from his tray. He ran out of cheese, so I made the sign for "more" to see if he made it back (which would mean he was still hungry). He looked at me, paused, and then picked up and gave me another cheerio. What a good sharer!

Today, he was eating lunch and I decided to listen to some music while doing dishes. He got excited and listened attentively. When the song was over, he started fussing so I made a sign for "music". He immediately made it back, grinning. I put on another album, and he was very pleased. BUT, then I had the nerve to start the dishes again. I turned the water on and clanked around with the plates. A few moments later, he started fussing again, making the new "music" sign and glaring at me. Apparently, my dish-doing was too loud and was interfering with his tunes! Sheesh. :)

Help Their Miracle Happen!

Good things come to those who wait...at least that is the hope for Mike's brother and sister-in-law, Dan and Aranne. This amazing couple has been waiting for two years to adopt a baby into their loving home. I can't think of anyone who would make better, more dedicated parents to a very lucky child then they would. If you know someone who is considering adoption and is looking for an adoptive family to give a baby a wonderful home, please pass on the link to Dan and Aranne's blog: http://www.danielandaranne.blogspot.com. We pray that their miracle will happen soon!

Snips and snails and puppy-dog tails...that's what my little girl is made of.

The first year after we came to Berkeley, I decided to try my hand at gardening. I got myself a lovely plot in the community garden, worked hard to clear the brush, and planted a dozen rows or so of various produce. I watered diligently for several weeks and was pleased as punch as my pretty green sprouts came up. Several weeks later I noticed that my carrot seedlings looked just like my pea sprouts, which looked just like my parsley...in fact, ALL my seedlings looked identical! Identical to the area's most common weed, that is. What happened? Some sort of nasty pest ate all my tender little sprouts and so for weeks I watered the happiest weeds in the city.

Ellie loves growing things, though, so I thought we'd try again, this time with a smaller plot. We began with just a corner and planted two basil starts and six strawberry starts:


We soon discovered which pest probably did in my first horticultural attempt:


Now, Ellie has a thing for bugs and snails and all things Insecta (or rather, Gastropoda, in this case). She spent the entire gardening trip collecting snails with increasing zeal and joy. I don't mind bugs myself, but I was more than happy to let her grab up the handfuls (literally!) of snails that were hanging out in the corners of our plot. Altogether she found probably over 40 of them...and boy, was she thrilled!


These suckers are big! They are one of the varieties of snail that they eat in France. Apparently, some entreprenuring Frenchman brought them over to Oakland in the 1800's thinking he would make millions selling them as delicacies. Good for the snails -- they didn't catch on as the next tasty snack. Even better for the snails -- they LOVED our climate. Bad for the Frenchman, though: generations of gardeners now curse his name.

This is only some of Ellie's catch:


Here's my happy, happy snail girl:


Benji has learned to sit up. He likes balls. He likes holding them, chewing on them, rolling them, crawling after them, patting them, and giggling at them.

The many moods of Benji: thoughtful...


...amused...


...playful...

...and showing off... his new teeth, that is! He is just getting his third set in, bringing the grand total to six little white pearls. Looks like he has the same gap in his front teeth that Ellie has (courtesy of Mike's genes). I try not to think of our future orthodontist bills.


One last family photo, taken on the UC Berkeley campus. Can you find the scary, ferocious tiger? Hint: look for a gap in the front teeth.

Conversation between Ellie and our friend EJ

Ellie: You have red whiskers

EJ: I also have a lot of white whiskers.

Ellie: Why?

EJ: Because I'm getting old. When people get old their hair turns gray.

(Ellie doesn't see any white whiskers.)

Later....

Ellie: You do have white whiskers on the top. I'm going to miss you when you die.

Yes, we're still alive.

Want to know the secret to never posting on your blog? Decide that instead of just photos of your Disneyland trip, you really need to make a 10-minute video montage with all the highlights, the kids' reactions, and your favorite moments. Then, never find time to actually work on it.

...so, anyway, an update on us: Mike is still busy with the book editing project. He hopes to be done by the end of next week. The week after next he will be going to a political science conference in Chicago. He's talking in church on Sunday, planning our Messier Marathon camping trip next week, and bowling a bit better than usual.

I am keeping more than busy with the Village Residents Association. The University finally hired a fundraiser for Housing and Dining (hooray), so we are working with her to set up a campaign to benefit student families. I'm still working at the computer center, doing web design, and for the most part enjoying both. I've been shopping for a toddler bed for Ellie so that we can change Ellie's bed back into a crib and move Benji out of our room. He still wakes up and thinks he gets to nurse every 2 hours at night; I'm hoping that putting him in another room will help us train him to put himself back to sleep.

Ellie is doing wonderfully. I've been filling out school registration papers for kindergarten, about which she seems to have mixed feelings. One day she's excited, the next she just wants to stay home or at preschool. We'll be starting group violin lessons for her this coming week, and I think that will be good fun. She continues to LOVE bugs. A couple days ago she found FIVE potato bugs and was ecstatic about it. She tried to give some of them away to her little friends and was confused that they didn't want them.

Besides the night-time wakings, Benji is a wonderful, sweet, beautiful baby. He is still very calm, low-key, and easy to entertain. He just started eating cheerios and thinks they are the tastiest thing since...well, breast-milk. He can't crawl yet, but he can roll and scoot and wiggle himself around. The other night Mike left the room for a few minutes and came back to find Benjamin halfway under the futon, with one foot stuck in the frame. We're still not entirely sure how he managed that one. He seems to be a pretty serious child, not nearly as gregarious and outgoing as Ellie, but when he gazes at you with those deep blue eyes, it's like he's seeing into your soul.

Here's some photos:


Mike and Benjamin playing games. Benji was a good helper.

Maile and a friend from the ward playing "extreme jenga". Extreme because, well, have YOU ever played jenga while holding a squirmy baby?

We celebrated "Pi Day" on March 14 by inviting friends over and serving pie. Apparently Ellie was paying attention.

I went hiking with a friend today. I was only gone a couple hours, but this was what was written on the whiteboard when I returned. It's nice to be loved, but goodness, it's not like I was abandoning the family!


Ellie got a butterfly farm for Christmas from her grandparents. We watched the caterpillars grow, become chrysalises, and emerge as butterflies. This was the day she let (some of) them go.

They were quite pretty.


Ellie was quite happy.


We tie-dyed a sheet at the Village Art Fair to match the pillow case Ellie made last year. It turned out colorfully.

Benji likes kleenex. A lot.


He also likes the exersaucer that a friend lent to us.


My sweet, somber little boy.

I just can't resist my little blue-eyed sweetheart. I'm already jealous of future girlfriends. At least I have him all to myself for the next decade or so.

Dream

The other night I had a vivid dream. Ever since I was very young (6 or 7), nearly every dream I have remembered has involved some kind of corrupt government. Go figure.

Anyway, the dream started with Ellie and me in a concentration camp. There were many women there with their children. The men were held elsewhere. By chance, Ellie and I were able to escape. I remember running barefoot down a gravel road with her, trying to get away from the guards who were chasing us. Ellie complained about how the rocks hurt her little bare feet, and I wondered whether it would be kinder to let her slow down and risk getting caught, to force her to run as fast as possible, or to pick her up and carry her (which would also slow us down). I can still see the large, sharp gravel and the fields on both sides of the road...

I don't remember how, but we escaped the guards and miraculously met up with Mike. We didn't know how to find an American Embassy, so we headed for the nearest LDS chapel. (Apparently my subconscious sees the church as a refuge from corruption and evil.) As we expected, the members of the local ward were actively hiding and smuggling out families who were in danger from the government. I remember feeling incredibly grateful for the people who put everything on the line for us.

Our new friends were helping us find hiding places in the church building when we heard sirens outside and it became evident that the secret police had discovered that we were there. Mike hid on the bottom level of the building while Ellie and I hid upstairs. We heard the police yelling downstairs and knew they had discovered Mike. Then, someone saw me through a window and they came looking for us. Ellie was hiding on one side of the hall and I was hiding on the other. I had told her that it was vitally important that she stay completely silent, but she was so scared that she couldn't help whimpering a bit. The police came down the hall and I knew they would find us, so I stepped out and making the same kind of sound Ellie was, hoping they wouldn't notice her. Police were yelling and it was noisy and chaotic and I was terrified and couldn't tell what exactly was happening. There was so much noise everywhere...

A policeman put a pistol to my head and I knew it was the end. For a moment I thought desperately how much I wished this was all a dream, just a bad dream. I wondered what my life meant and who would remember me, and it occurred to me that I'd just had the bad luck to live when and where I did. In a way, my life was meaningless. Somewhere, someone in a safe, peaceful country would think about me and others like me and would feel sad and sympathetic for a moment, and then would forget us and push us out of mind because it's easier to think of nicer things.

All of this passed through my mind as I saw the barrel of that gun and wondered if my daughter would survive. And then the policeman pulled the trigger and I woke up.

..............

... And now here I am, living that dream in a way. Except that I am the one in the safe, peaceful country, while some other mother is in a war-torn nation with a gun at her head, her husband dead, and her child about to be discovered. There are so many mothers like her, and it is only luck that gives her the bad end of the stick and gives me my comfortable, peaceful life.

Will I just push these women out of mind? It's so much easier to think of nicer things.