newborn adoration

This week was Thanksgiving, and so, like millions of other Americans, we made the long trek elsewhere to be with family for the holiday.

Not, however, without a little adventure first. Our faithful readers will already know about our geyser (this happened Tuesday, the day before we were set to leave--luckily, the kind man who's working on remodeling our downstairs shower fixed it for us when he came in to work).

Monday evening, we watched the neighbor kids for a couple of hours while their dad was in surgery. I think Andrew thoroughly enjoyed it (although neither of our overtired kids slept all that well that night). Isaac is well able to match him in terms of energy--and Isaac isn't afraid to speak his mind. When, at one point, he told his sister, "I don't want to play with Andrew. He's too wild!" I was glad that Andrew was in the room to hear it. Since he has a tendency to get wound up when he's around other kids (I've started to wonder if maybe this child of mine craves more socializing than either of his introverted parents. Maybe we need more play dates?), he needs to know that not all kids respond well to that.



We had a wonderful Thanksgiving--not a lot of specifics to say about that, except that we had some good food and enjoyed spending the time with my parents and my sister and her family. Friday was more family. My mom and I braved the Black Friday sales, while Dan took the kids up north for the morning to hang out with Sarah and the gang. And, contrary to popular belief, the sales weren't that crazy--probably because we weren't dead set on any particular item, and we didn't try to beat the crowds just as the stores opened. (Although I have to admit that my mom went out much earlier than I did--at 4:30--and stopped by to pick me up shortly after 6, after my kids were up).

That evening, my brother Jared came down from SLC with his family, and we hung out for a while--the adults mostly chatted and ate. I think the kids ate, but probably not much--they were definitely more interested in playing. And I *think* my dad's sanity survived all the rowdy revels of his grand kids, but I'm not positive about that . . .

Saturday and Sunday morning we spent with Dan's family, hanging out at Sarah's place on Saturday and then attending baby Maggie's blessing on Sunday. She sure is a sweet baby--and still so tiny! It's almost hard to believe she's real, she's so delicate and doll like. My kids are both big fans. I spent a considerable amount of time on Saturday holding the baby (I'd forgotten how much I like newborns . . . it almost makes me want another one, until I look at Evelyn and realize that I need to let my baby grow up a little more first!). I was a little worried that Evelyn would be jealous--she's quite jealous when I hold Andrew and usually tries to yell at him and push him away from me. Surprisingly, she wasn't--mostly, she just wanted to pat the baby and kiss her.



Andrew was likewise smitten and kept wanting to hold her. But then, he was like that with Evelyn too, when she was small--now that she's a little older, he's no longer so enamored with her!

Geysers

You know you've had an exciting day when the first thing your son tells his grandma (who's come to watch him for the afternoon while his mom teaches) is: "Bubby! We had a geyser in our back yard!"

Geyser indeed (although I--perhaps fortunately--didn't get to see it). In fact, I was pretty much oblivious. Andrew was at preschool and Evelyn was napping, so I was downstairs with the sound of the heater and the washing machine in my ears and missed our neighbor's pounding on the door upstairs. I only knew something was wrong when I heard Dan's voice (in the middle of the day! Apparently, our kind neighbor, unable to rouse anyone at the house, called the only person he knew to contact--Dan's dad, who promptly told Dan to get home asap).

As first time home buyers, we have occasionally learned some home truths about home ownership the hard way. (Like, check the date on your water heater when you buy the home.) Today, we learned another one. You really do need to turn off the outside water before it freezes, or the pipes will burst. One of the exposed pipes outside our house burst; thus the geyser. (It must have been pretty impressive, since the neighbor who saw it lives across the street, and the geyser was in the back of the house).

Dan and our neighbor tried to find the shut-off valve in the basement and came up empty. Our neighbor managed a temporary fix for the broken pipe, and we've got a plumber lined up for early next week (he was supposed to come today, but an exploding toilet took priority). We called the previous owners and found out that there is no outside shut-off valve, only valves that turn off all the water in the house. I confess, I'm a bit bemused by this. By what weird quirk of fate does it work out that the previous owners had nearly 10 years in this house, with no problems with broken pipes (and clearly, without shutting off the water to the outside, since that isn't possible)--only for us to deal with the broken pipes within weeks of the first freeze?

Oh well, at least it was taken care of quickly and will--hopefully--be solved equally swiftly.

Primary program

The annual primary program at church is always one of my favorite points of the year--I love watching the kids get up and say their parts, all entirely earnest. (Somehow, it's harder to be cynical and/or sarcastic about what children say--I almost always come away moved by something that was said). This year, however, was a different ballgame. See, Andrew is now *in* the primary program, and where before I could enjoy the performance without any qualms, this time, I had to worry about Andrew (and yes, let's be honest: it's hard to escape the sense that your child's behavior is somehow a reflection on you as a person and a parent).

I realized, yesterday, when I went to the rehearsal for the program, that we had woefully under-prepared Andrew. He knew his two short parts, but we hadn't talked at all about appropriate behavior when one is performing. At the start of the meeting, Andrew rolled all the way down the aisle into the foyer, and then insisted on rolling all the way back. After the rehearsal, we had a little pep talk about things that should not be done during the performance: don't roll on the floor; stay in your chair while people are talking; keep your hands out of your pants.

The good news is, he managed to do the last of these three things. The bad news is that he didn't manage to do either of the others. And I realize that it's hard to sit still for the better part of an hour when you're three . . . but that doesn't help a lot when your kid is the *only* kid who seems congenitally unable to stay in his seat, who rolls (on his stomach) off the platform that the sunbeams (the 3-4 year old class) are seated on, who sits when he should stand, and lays on the ground when he should sit . . . Sigh. At least he got his parts right! And several people told me that he was really cute. Granted, there's almost always at least one of the sunbeams who keeps the audience entertained with his antics--I just hadn't realized that the antics were a lot less funny when it was your kid, and not someone else's.

One of our neighbors told me that he'd heard that 4 was just the terrible twos squared. If that's true, then we may be in for it . . .

. . . and as proof, I offer the following picture. One day this week, Andrew refused to get dressed. Since he likes his pajamas, this wasn't too unusual. However, when I sent him to his room to get dressed, this is what emerged . . . (I'm not sure how much you can see in the picture, but he has underwear on his head, socks on his hands, and at least five pair of underwear layered over the original pair on his bum).



On a more positive note: One day this week, Andrew decided that he and Evelyn needed to watch for their daddy to come home, so he made a little nest out of his blanket and collected a handful of books for them to look at while they waited.


When Dan got home, the kids got their reward: some quality one-on-one time with dad while he read them stories.

smirks and smiles

Not much to report from the home front this week: life goes on. We had a fair amount of snow on earlier this week (now I can't remember if it was Tuesday or Wednesday)--enough that I bundled up the kids and took them outside while I (with some help from Andrew) shoveled off the sidewalks. Evelyn wasn't quite sure that she liked all the white stuff--she kept falling down in it and losing her mittens. Andrew, of course, had a wonderful time, flinging snowballs, making snow angels, shoveling snow, and generally being a typical almost four-year-old boy.

Jodi (Dan's cousin) brought her kids over later that morning while she attended a meeting on campus, and Andrew and Zach had a good time playing together, although I think Andrew was a little high energy for Zach on occasion (though his mom tells me he's used to it, since his big brother Kade is the same way). Evelyn and Sam had a good time playing near each other, but not quite with each other.

Yesterday, we went to the temple and took turns watching the kids. We finished off our expedition with a trip to Costco, whereupon I decided that we need to avoid the store until after Christmas. Normally, I enjoy our trips--even when they fall on Saturdays (which they inevitably do, since we don't have the time to make the drive to SG during the week). But there were just too many people, and I think it will just get worse between now and Christmas.

For the rest, I'd rather substitute pictures for words. Having given a talk today in church and co-taught a lesson (Dan did the same), I'm feeling that I've achieved my quota of words for the day.

My darling daughter and her shoe fetish. Now that she's officially hit 18 months (she was in nursery for the first time today--but only lasted a few minutes after she realized that I'd disappeared), she's starting to show increasing signs of independence. One of these, is manifesting a distinct opinion about what pair of shoes she wants to wear at any given time. A pair of shoes that had won favor with her for days previously may be capriciously discarded for another without warning. She may even disdain a pair that she'd worn happily earlier in the day (note: because Evelyn only keeps socks on if she has shoes over them, we've rescinded [for her] our general policy of no shoes in the house). Luckily, thanks to her mom's overzealous bargain shopping, she has plenty of pairs to choose from.

If you listen carefully to the video, you'll hear her oft-repeated favorite word.

Various iterations of Evelyn's smile. She's recently discovered hamming it up for an appreciative audience, and I think her squinty face is adorable.

(And no, the flower in her hair did not last long after this photo shoot. But at least she now has enough hair--barely--for barrettes!)


And, so he won't feel to neglected, a picture of Andrew. Dan and I were talking tonight about how much calmer Andrew has been in recent weeks. His new discovery of the pleasure of art (mostly scribbling quick drawings and then cutting them out--his paper shavings can be found in almost every room in the house) has done a lot to alleviate his boredom, I think.

More Andrewisms

Andrew is generally such an energetic, active little boy that he catches me off guard with occasional glimpses of sensitivity. The other day, as we were sitting down to lunch, he started talking to me about a star, and got so choked up and emotional that I couldn't understand him. I calmed him down and made him start over. This is what emerged:

"When we were at your race [the 5k from a week or so ago] I made friends with one of the stars in the sky. But then he disappeared and now I'll never see him again!" Followed by, of course, more tearing up.

With some difficulty, I resisted the urge to laugh, and reassured Andrew that the same stars were in the sky here in Cedar City. But who knew that my son was so imaginative? Or so sentimental?

Andrew also shows an alarming tendency to manipulate language to his own ends (something that alternately amuses and horrifies me: what will he be like in 12 years?). We've been having some issues with him cutting the covers off of his paperback books, so we've laid down the law: you don't rip/cut/tear books. And paper is the only thing you're allowed to cut up. So, when Andrew presented me yesterday with the cover of a coloring book that he had just cut off, I was more than a little angry.

Me: "Andrew, what did you do? Why did you cut the cover off? You know that you're only supposed to cut paper!"

Andrew: "But the cover was paper!"

I had to laugh at that. And I realized that we also need to be a little more explicit with our little literalist.

Some thoughts on pride

Dan and I have been asked to give talks in church on Sunday--on the topics of humility and gratitude (not surprising, given the season). When I thought of my topic, I immediately thought of President Benson's classic talk on pride, where he argues that pride is essentially enmity between us and God, and us and our fellowmen. Ultimately, he suggests that the only real antidote to pride is humility.

I find, though, that as with so many talk preparations, what begins as a primarily intellectual exercise (although it shouldn't, I know!) ends up being something profoundly spiritual. As I reread President Benson's talk, I found myself increasingly convicted by his examples of pride. Jealousy? Unfavorable comparisons of myself to others? Check. Reliance on the praise of the world? Check. (Not for nothing was the graduate student association at Penn State called EGO, and their softball team the EGO-maniacs; something about intellectual attainments seems concomitant with an increasing ego). Someday, I hope, I will have a sense of self derived wholly from my relationship with God--but I confess, I'm not there yet. I still rely too much on the praise of those around me (particularly praise of my intelligence) to affirm my sense of self worth. I've been like this as long as I can remember: I remember as an overwhelmed freshman in college walking around BYU's campus and reminding myself that I must not be stupid, because after all they'd given me a scholarship to be there. (But only constant self-reminders served to convince me, sort of, that I had a right to be there). I'm not proud of this. I hope someday to out grow this tendency.

And I suppose I find myself also convicted of a kind of pride that uses an inflated belief in one's own intelligence to justify a sense of superiority. Yes--on occasion I have been known to be a snob. I suppose that is why I was so moved by this passage by Elder Maxwell (reprinted in the December 2008 Liahona): "Since knees often bend long before minds, holding back this 'part' deprives God’s work of some of mankind’s very best intellects. Far better to be meek like Moses, who learned things he 'never had supposed' (Moses 1:10). Yet, sadly, brothers and sisters, in the subtle interplay of agency and identity, there is so much hesitation. The surrender of the mind is actually a victory, because it then introduces us to God’s stretching and 'higher' ways! (Isaiah 55: 9)." We don't rescind our claim to intelligence when we bow ourselves to God's will; we enhance it.

This is what I want: the kind of mind and will that puts itself wholeheartedly in the service of God, laying aside lesser questions of self, and in the process becoming much more. In another talk I found, Marlin K. Jensen includes a powerful quote by John Ruskin about humility: "the first test of a truly great man is his humility. . . . I do not mean, by humility, doubt of his own power. . . . [But really] great men . . . have a curious . . . feeling that . . . greatness is not in them, but through them. . . . And they see something Divine . . . in every other man . . . , and are endlessly, foolishly, incredibly merciful." This, I think, is the kind of person I would hope to be.

Why do I even bother?

(appropriate Eeyore accent, of course, for the title!)

Not that I'm exactly cynical, or even gloomy right now. It's just that I have nothing really to report for this week, so nothing but habit has me writing.

I mentioned last week that the kids had been sick, and I was starting to feel so--and then, of course, I got sick with a vengeance. I could tell I was finally starting to feel better around Wednesday, when I actually cleaned for the first time in days. But needless to say, we didn't get out much this week, which was a pity since the weather was actually quite glorious.

I did take the kids to the park on Friday, as a kind of atonement . . . only to find that Dan had come home early that day and missed us by minutes. The park would have been much more fun with two grown-ups. Since Dan had to go to some kind of schmoozing/recruiting dinner that night, this meant that we didn't see much of him that evening.

Saturday, of course, we caught up on all the chores we've been neglecting for the last several weeks: we finally raked up all the leaves on the yard and off of the driveway, and Dan used our fancy lawn-mower to mulch the leaves into the grass (which was much easier than trying to wrestle them into garbage sacks--and more eco-friendly too!). We also cleaned the house, and generally enjoyed having a Saturday at home.

Hope all our readers have enjoyed a similarly peaceful weekend!

A much feted (fated?) occasion

After two months or more of non-sick children, the childhood illness gods apparently decided that we had circumvented fate long enough, and visited with a vengeance. As a result, we've been house-bound most of the week. I was planning on running a 5k (my first!) on Saturday, so I was hoping to be spared this particular plague, but there's only so much hand washing can protect you from when your children insist on sneezing and coughing directly on you. Friday morning, I felt the first signs of a scratchy throat--today I am definitely in the grips of the head cold my children have been fighting all week. Not fun.

Aside from that, the week hasn't been too bad. In an effort to keep my housebound children entertained, we've been doing a few more baking/crafting projects than usual. On Thursday, I kept Andrew home from preschool. To assuage his grief, we made up a batch of homemade clay, broke out the Christmas cookie cutters, and baked some ornaments. (I'm sure my students--the ones who were paying attention--wondered why my hands were died various shades of vermilion. This was the direct result of trying--somewhat unsuccessfully--to die the dough before shaping it). Why Christmas ornaments? Well, we didn't have any Halloween cookie cutters that were small enough, so Christmas it had to be. In any case, it kept Andrew happily occupied for the better part of the hour, so it was well worth the mess, and the inevitably questions about why we can't decorate a Christmas tree NOW. (In these cases, it helps to have a husband who doesn't mind being a bit of a holiday crank--I just tell Andrew that his daddy won't let us put up the tree until after Thanksgiving).

On Friday, the impending Halloween holiday moved me to try making some Halloween treats from a recent Family Fun installment. I used a pumpkin cookie cutter for Andrew's cheese sandwich, and painstakingly carved the middle out of an orange for this lovely "snack-o-lantern." And while Andrew was admittedly thrilled with the result (I think his exact words were, "This is the happiest day of my life!"), he didn't eat more than a bite or two of either. Sigh. Next time I'll know better than trying to cook creatively. (Although I did try making a sweet potato soup earlier in the week that was surprisingly good--spicy too, for those who like that sort of thing. You can find the recipe here.)

Saturday, of course, was Halloween. It was also the day of my first 5k, when I'd find out if the past 8 weeks of training actually worked. In the event, the answer was: sort of. The day dawned beautiful and clear (a nice change after several days of clouds--and snow even! We must have had 3 inches Tuesday night). Unfortunately, my outlook wasn't quite so clear: I was definitely coming down with a cold, and the sore throat was worse. I decided to go ahead with the race anyway--after all, I had trained for it.

The race was sponsored by the Big Brothers and Sisters of Utah (at least my registration fee went to a good cause) and started from a nice little park just outside St. George. Not knowing what to expect, we arrived a good 45 minutes early--luckily, the park had plenty to keep the kids occupied.


Here I am, just before the race started, squinting into the sun. (Lovely picture, isn't it?).

The race itself started with a shorter loop through a residential area, then a longer loop on a trail circling the park--the second mile was mostly downhill; the last mile was all uphill. Urgh. This fact, combined with my incipient cold, and the fact that most of my training has been running on an indoor track, meant that I didn't actually *run* the entire 5k--I couldn't quite manage the last uphill mile, and had to break to walk a few times. I wasn't very happy about that, but it seemed like a better alternative than passing out or throwing up. (Plus, when I figured out that I could walk that stress almost as fast as I could run it, there didn't see much point in killing myself). At any rate, I'd hoped to run the race in about 30 minutes, and I came in just a few seconds after that (I don't have the exact time, since I somehow missed the foot high numbers at the end of the race, and Dan had to tell me my time later). I think I'd like to try again--sometime when I'm not sick and have trained a little more thoroughly!

This is me, just before the finish line, trying desperately to smile for the camera. (Luckily, the sun's behind my head, or you'd see something more like a pained grimace).

Afterwards, we went to the local Costco (where we were thrilled to discover the "Hummus Man" was in town and stocked up on hummus and pita bread), then home to rest before the Halloween festivities.

Andrew decided months ago that he wanted to be a pterodactyl--luckily, he didn't suffer any last minute changes of mind. Evelyn didn't have much say in her costume: Grandma got it for her a month or two ago. Unluckily, we didn't notice until too late that the costume was only 12-18 months; by the time Halloween rolled around, she barely fit into it. (That didn't seem to bother her much--she was pretty pleased with herself and the costume. When she found it on the couch this morning, she insisted that I put it on her again).






I took the kids Trick-or-Treating while Dan stayed home to hand out candy (apparently I woefully over-estimated the number of kids in our neighborhood, since we had tons of candy to spare. More on that in a bit.) Dan assumed that we were canvassing the entire ward since we were gone so long; in reality, we only made it up and down our street and partway down one other street before the kids got tired. They seemed to enjoy it though; Evelyn especially. She was a little hesitant at first, but once she understood that people were holding shiny stuff out for her to take, she quickly got into the spirit of grabbing whatever she could reach. I'm sure if she was older it wouldn't have been nearly so charming, but I have to confess that she was pretty cute (and I wasn't the only one who thought so). At any rate, we were more than ready for bedtime when it rolled around; much less excited about the whole getting up early thing. (Whoever believes that Daylight Savings in the Fall buys you an extra hour of sleep must not have small children--my kids have *never* slept in until they were supposed to.) In the event, though, Dan took pity on me--I must have overdone things a little yesterday, since my cold was much worse this morning--and took the kids downstairs so I could sleep.

The kids and I stayed home from church today (the kids not so much because they were still sick but because they were exhausted and because I was staying home). All of us took much needed naps, and then whiled away the time until Dan came home by making a Thanksgiving advent out of our leftover Halloween candy (in theory, there's enough candy for each kid to have one piece a day until Thanksgiving--more likely, for Andrew and one of his parents--but in reality I wouldn't count on it. Evelyn kept trying to steal pieces as we worked, so I'm not exactly sure what the final count ended up at). Isn't our candy Turkey lovely?