Let's run in the sun for fun!

This week has been a pretty quiet one--Andrew and Evelyn both had colds, so we were necessarily home-bound more often than not. This also meant that we were a little more creative in entertaining ourselves, like creating this homemade lava lamp from this month's Family Fun magazine (using water, food coloring, vegetable oil, and an Alka-Seltzer tablet).

Earlier in the week, Andrew and I went to get Evelyn out of her crib following her nap and found her trying to climb out. She hasn't succeeded yet, but it might be time to pull the toddler bed out again.


Friday, the kids finally felt well enough for me to take them to a play-group organized by a woman in Bubby and Poppy's ward who knew Dan (actually, to be strictly accurate, who *dated* Dan) in college. The other women there were also college friends; between the three of them, they all either knew Dan, his brother Matt, or both of them. It was kind of fun to hear some old stories about them. Mostly, though, we talked about kids. I was also glad that the play date was indoors, since we woke that morning to a good four inches of snow.

The snow was especially disheartening since, a few days earlier, I'd signed myself and Andrew up for a local 5k/1k, called "Hearts for Haiti," where in lieu of the typical race donation they were collecting used clothing and other supplies. Andrew was really excited about his first "race"--it was the first thing he asked Dan about when he got up that morning.

Unfortunately, actually getting to the race ended up being a little more adventurous than we'd expected. The flier I'd seen only gave the name of the park (Canyon Park Trail); full of confidence, we arrived 15 minutes early and found that no one was there. We drove back to the sporting goods store where we'd made the donation, reread the flier. It said the same thing, so we drove back to the park. Again, no one. By this point, both Andrew and I were getting pretty antsy (and Andrew's anxiety certainly didn't help me!). I made Dan drive back to the sporting goods store one last time before giving up on the race. I was hoping that maybe there was an address in the fine print. No address, but the store employees were opening the store as we drove up, so I asked someone. He explained that the location meant was slightly different--the trail was the same one we were thinking of--it just started somewhere else. We arrived just as the race was about to start. Dan dropped Andrew and I off at the registration table just as they blew the starting horn. Poor Andrew just about expired on the spot when I made him wait for me to sign in and pin our numbers on. So, we were a minute or two late getting started (I like to blame this for my slower-than-usual finishing time). At least this gave Andrew the pleasure of running past all the walkers.

Also unfortunately, I didn't know anything in advance about the race set-up. I had assumed that the 1k race would be run separately from the 5k, as it had been at my single previous experience with a race. Instead, the 1k runners ran the same route, at the same time, just not as far. I didn't really realize this until we came to the turn-around point for the 1k race. Then I faced a dilemma: obviously, I couldn't send a four-year-old back on the trail by himself (even if it wasn't very far). Nor would he be able to make the entire 5k route with me. I initially thought I might find a kind-looking person who was also doing the 1k, and ask them to take Andrew back with them, but the volunteers at the 1k station, seeing my dilemma, offered to watch Andrew for me until the route brought me back by the same spot. So that's what we did. Andrew seemed to enjoy watching all the runners come by (especially since the volunteers--a couple of teenage boys--three snowballs at one of their friends as he passed). And when I got back, he ran the last half of his race with me. This meant, of course, that he didn't have a hope of placing in his race (shh, don't tell him that!), but it was pretty motivational for me--I kept thinking as I ran that I couldn't stop to walk because Andrew was waiting for me to come back.

So here's a picture of Andrew and I nearing the finish line. I was pretty proud of him for running most of his race (and I didn't even mind slowing down to run with him near the finish!). The weather, as you can tell, was less than ideal, but at least the sun was shining and most of the ice on the trail had melted off by the time I made the return run.

Evelyn, of course, as cute as always in her spectator role.

And that, my dear readers, pretty well sums up our week--a slow, meandering start, and a race to the finish!

Reflections of an erstwhile (?) wallflower

(Dan went to bed early tonight and while I know I should do the same thing, I'm going to postpone that for a minute to blog. I should also note that this post should probably go on the blog that I have so far created only in theory--still working on a title--so if you're looking for a post about the kids, you may want to wait and come back tomorrow).

Confession: I was a wallflower in high school. Er, maybe that's not much of a confession. It won't surprise anyone who knew me back then, and will probably surprise few of you who know me now. Dances alternately fascinated and repulsed me. I went--all my friends went--but I hated passionately those awkward moments when a slow song came on over the speakers, and so I would make an excuse to go get a drink, use the restroom, anything but stand around, waiting with my heart pounding, for no one to ask me to dance. Things did get better as I got older: in college I stopped caring quite so much about getting asked to dance and concentrated more on just enjoying the music and being with friends. (Surprisingly enough, I also got asked to dance a little more often in college. That probably helped).

But feeling out of place, unwanted, wasn't always just limited to the dance floor. In retrospect, I suppose this is a common feeling in adolescence (how can anyone really feel like they fit in when they don't know yet who they are, much less who they are supposed to fit with?). At the time, however, feeling out of place was extremely painful. I remember one occasion, early in high school, when some friends of mine had been invited to a party and I hadn't. They tried to persuade me to come with them, explaining that they thought the party was pretty much an open invite to anyone who wanted to come. But, being the oldest child (and therefore having had no exposure to that kind of party), I refused to go with them. I still remember the strangely intense revulsion I had toward the idea of going somewhere where I was not wanted. (Instead, I stayed home and cried. Now, what seems saddest to me is not how sad I felt, but how pointless my reaction was. I could have gone, and no one would have cared.)

Another confession: I still feel like a wallflower sometimes, not sure where I fit in. I always thought that by my thirties, I would get over that kind of self-consciousness. Now I'm starting to wonder how old you have to be to be fully comfortable in your own skin. I've gotten good at finding something to do at ward activities to cover the fact that I still don't know everyone. And I am getting better at not caring what other people think. But not always. Sometimes I still find myself longing to get invited to that select book club, to this particular play group. Even now, I still want to be liked.

But I'm also (re)discovering something that you'd think I would have learned long ago. (Sometimes I can be a slow learner). Being a wallflower is at least partly a choice. I may not get asked to dance (or invited to that book club), but I can find someone else who isn't dancing and strike up a conversation. In other words, if I feel out of place in a community, I can start by crafting my own community in its place. If I feel lonely, it's up to me to reach out. And I have to confess, I've made some real strides toward that recently.

I've been a little envious of a friend's easy participation in an online community of smart, literate LDS women (Segullah, among others); and I've been intimidated by some of the amazing women profiled at the new Mormon Women Project (including the editor, who was a candidate for the presidential scholarship at BYU the same year as I was). In other words, I found myself reenacting the wallflower role, passively wanting to be part of something.

This week, I decided to do something about it. I contacted the editor at the MWP and told her I wanted to help--we're supposed to talk on Monday about what I can do. And I submitted a guest blog post to Segullah that they accepted (!). I'll let you know when it comes out.

Forgiveness and Judging

Since we (or, more accurately, I, since Dan got a new calling) teach the twelve-year-olds in our ward during Sunday School, I've started using that week's topic as the topic for my personal scripture study. This week's topic is on repentance, and I read a profound talk by Elder Lynn Mickelson (sp?) yesterday that I wanted to share. In the talk, Elder Mickelson suggested that we need to be careful about "airing dirty linen," since making certain sins unnecessarily public can make those sins harder for individuals to repent of (the exception, of course, is of sins committed against a public, which require public restitution).

What I found most interesting about this talk, though, was the way he linked forgiveness to judgment. Too often, he said, we're tempted to air other people's dirty linen in public for them--in other words, to present the unsavory things we know about them for public scrutiny and (our) judgment. This is wrong, he suggests, precisely because it goes against what we know of forgiveness. The Lord said that we are required to forgive all men--not just those who have sinned against us, but we are required to forgive those who have sinned, period. It's part of showing charity or empathy towards them. I thought this was insightful view of the importance of forgiveness, and I'm hoping to use this principle to show a little more empathy, and a little less judging.

musings (and some knock knock jokes)

In a desperate attempt to put off doing class prep for tomorrow's class . . .

Last night at dinner Andrew and Evelyn kept us in stitches for a full fifteen minutes with their knock knock jokes. Evelyn, of course, doesn't get it at all. But she does know one joke--well, to be technical, she knows part of one. It goes like this:

Evelyn: Knock, knock
Me: Who's there?
Evelyn: Nana. (Banana)
Me: Banana who?
Evelyn: (giggles and starts over.) Knock knock.

She keeps doing this because, since she's so cute, we keep laughing when she misses the punchline.

Andrew was a little more inventive. That still doesn't mean his jokes make any sense, but he laughed uproariously over all of them. I mostly enjoyed the strange insight into how his little mind works. Over the course of the evening, among others, we got the following:

Andrew: Knock knock.
Me: Who's there?
Andrew: Sky.
Me: Sky who?
Andrew: Uh oh, we blasted up to the sky!

Andrew: Knock knock.
Me: Who's there?
Andrew: Nail.
Me: Nail who?
Andrew: Don't worry, you won't get nailed. The hammer is nailing you right now.

(I think we can take the opener as a given at this point, so I'll omit that from the next three.)

Andrew: Axe.
Me: Axe who?
Andrew: An axe is cutting your house down. (Pause.) That was hilarious!

Andrew: Snowman.
Me: Snowman who?
Andrew: We're building a snowman in the summer.

Andrew: Golf ball.
Me: Golf ball who?
Andrew: Golf ball. Daddy's going golfing.

***********************

On a completely unrelated note, I'm thinking about starting a new blog. No, don't worry, I'm not abandoning this one. It's just that lately the urge to write has been creeping up on me (and write things other than academic papers, emails, and weekly updates). There used to be a time when I was actually pretty good at personal essays (I even won first in a BYU essay contest, years ago), and I've been hankering after that kind of writing again. I envision the blog more as a place to explore my inner musings--the kind that I periodically inflict on my readers here. But since most of the readers of *this* blog are really just interested in the kids, I thought that if I wanted to do that kind of posting more frequently, I should probably create a separate space for it.

Trouble is, I'm horrible at titles. Everything I've thought of so far is either too cutesy, too serious (I thought about "Opening the Windows of Heaven," for one, but that implies way more than the blog is likely to fulfill), or just not me. Although I might borrow part of the title of a recent post: Pigtails and Persuasion. But I don't know.

Any ideas?

vacations in springtime -or- a week's worth of dancing

In addition to containing the ides of March and the first official day of Spring, this week happened to be the university's Spring Break. Which meant two important things: first, that we saw more of Dan than usual during the week, and second, that we did a LOT of stuff.

We started off the week by taking the kid's to the local bouncy house. It was much nicer to go with two parents--I didn't have to worry about keeping a close eye on Andrew while simultaneously helping Evelyn negotiate each new slide (maybe by next winter she'll be able to climb up by herself).

Andrew, of course, is pretty near fearless on the slides.

For Family Home Evening treat that evening, we decided to celebrate the incipient arrival of spring with . . . popsicles. But don't be deceived by the mellow evening sun: although the weather was warmer than the snow storms of the previous week, there was still a brisk wind and you'll see the snow piles in the background of some of the pictures. But the kids enjoyed it, and we managed to contain the stickiness outside (aside from a few doorhandles).

On Tuesday, Dan went into work for a few hours. After preschool and naps, I took the kids outside to ride their bikes. We presented Evelyn with her birthday bike a couple of months early because I was tired of her and Andrew fighting over our single big wheel. I was so excited to give the bike to her--Dan put the bike together and then we set it up in the living room where she would see it first thing. And what did she do? At Andrew's excited urging, she came into the room, and made an immediate beeline . . . to the couch. Granted, she was pleased when she discovered the bike (eventually), and more excited when she got to take it outside, but the initial encounter was somewhat lackluster. Of course, that afternoon she rode her "bike" all the way to the end of the street and, when my most winning efforts at persuasion failed to convince her to stop and turn around, I was forced to resort to physical means (I carried her in one arm and the bike in the other all the way back to the house).

On Wednesday (I know the chronological arrangement is not the most exciting, but it helps me keep my facts straight), we drove down to Las Vegas for the day. Actually, I had an early flight out the next morning, so we thought we might at least make a mini-vacation out of it.

I have to pause here for a brief shout-out to my husband, who fearlessly took on the task of watching our kids for four days and three nights (with some help from his parents), so that I could go to 4Cs (a big academic conference in my field). He is pretty amazing. And I am pretty lucky to have found him!

Anyway, back to Vegas. After an uneventful drive, we tried to cram as much into our day as the kids could handle. We went to Trader Joe's with a list of requests from Dan's family; after which we had lunch at a nearby Jewish deli (probably not kosher, though, as both Dan's lunch and mine had cheese on top of meat). We still had an hour or so to kill before we could check into our hotel, so we went to the outlet mall (I know, Sarah, I wish you could have been there too!), looked around for a while (Evelyn fell asleep in the car just before we arrived, so she spent most of the time asleep in the stroller) and, amazingly, managed not to buy very much.

After checking into the hotel, we went to the strip. We stuck to mostly kid-friendly stuff. We went to the shark aquarium at Mandalay Bay, which was admittedly a little pricey, but beautifully done, with some impressive exhibits. My favorite is one where viewers walk through what appears to be a sunken ship, with windows above, around, and below you where the sharks and other marine animals swim. The kids both really enjoyed it (and luckily, they were both free).

After the exhibit, we took the tram up the street to MGM Grand, where we made dinner reservations at the Rainforest Cafe (I'd wanted to try it, because I thought the kids would like the jungle ambience). Since we had a little time before our reservations, we went to M and M world up the street. This wasn't entirely what we expected, at first. Dan and I both had visions of Hershey World, in PA, so walking into a store full of M and M merchandise wasn't quite what we discovered. Finally, on the third floor, we found what we were looking for: an interactive 3-D video. The video wasn't ultimately that exciting (I found the 3-D glasses really hard to focus through--Dan told me afterward that taking off my glasses might have helped. Except then I wouldn't have seen much of anything. Evelyn wouldn't wear the glasses at all, and Andrew got bored halfway through it). But the little factory-like walk before the video was kind of cool, and we got to watch this impressive dance exhibition while we were waiting for the doors to the theater to open. (That's Andrew and Evelyn, if you couldn't already tell. They put on quite the show for *everyone* who was waiting).

I'm going to skim briefly over the rest of the week, since it was all about me and the conference, which I enjoyed. I went to some interesting panels (and some not so-interesting ones), started thinking about different ways to incorporate multi-modal genres into my classes, and--most importantly--saw several of my favorite professors and colleagues from graduate school (I had dinner with my advisor and her publishers on Thursday night, which was a lot of fun), and several friends that I've met along the way from various institutions (like my friend Catherine). Best of all, I ran into some of my colleagues from working at BYU's writing fellows program (Beth Hedengren, Lauren Johnson--my then assistant coordinator, and Kristine Hansen, who originally helped me decide what rhet/comp programs to apply for) and spent a terrific evening with them.

Things got more interesting on Saturday, when I tried to come home. My initial plan was to fly to Chicago (from Louisville, KY), fly to Las Vegas, spend the night in Vegas (my flight wouldn't get in until 11 pm), and then take the shuttle north in the morning. Unfortunately, because of snow in Chicago, our flight was delayed three hours, by which time I had missed my connecting flight, and wound up spending the night in Chicago instead. While all of this was pretty grueling while it was going on (I don't deal well with uncertainty), there were some silver linings.

First of all, I was re-booked on the first flight to Vegas in the morning--in first class. Definitely a better way to spend a four hour flight. Second, although I had initially canceled my morning shuttle in favor of an afternoon one (I wasn't sure I'd make it in time), I was dreading the thought of spending five hours in the airport. I suppose I could have gone downtown, but what would I have done? It was Sunday, after all, so there wasn't much I'd feel comfortable doing. As it turns out, we got into the airport with half an hour to spare before the morning shuttle left. I called the shuttle service, but they were booked full. Still, they told me I could go ahead and go down and see if someone failed to show--and someone did. So I ended up getting home the same time as originally planned, if not exactly in the original mode.

As for the dancing part of this week's title, Evelyn has recently really gotten into dancing. You could probably tell that from the M and M world video. But, for any of you who may be dying to see a cute little girl figure out her moves, check out the following.She's also starting to get really into finger plays and songs with movements. Although she's not very good at either yet, she's a crack-up at two familiar primary songs: Once there was a snowman, and Popcorn Popping on the Apricot Tree. (These are posted mostly for the grandparents. The rest of you are welcome to view them, but just so you know, you're not really the intended audience. Sorry.)

half sick of shadows

Although I'm no Lady of Shalott, I am growing sick of shadows. Or, perhaps more appropriately, of the shadows of the perpetual string of snowstorms. This is what our backyard looked like Tuesday morning. By Friday, most of the snow was gone, courtesy of a few days of actual spring weather. This morning, we woke up buried under another 5 or 6 inches. Seriously, when do we finally get to enjoy Spring?

This week has been . . . another week. We've tried to mostly stay indoors (see above), but we're more than ready to get outside again. And more than ready for Spring break--hurrah! I'm actually heading out of town this week for a conference (the national conference on college composition and communication, if anyone's interested), but I will enjoy a few days off before then, and Dan, I'm sure, is looking forward to three undiluted days with his kids. (Right, Dan?)

I just read a NYT article about the evolution of mommy blogs, away from the old-school scrap-book nature of blogging about kids to blogs that promote and advertise various special deals, and where the blogger's persona and relationship with her audience actually become a marketable commodity. Interesting article, but makes me glad that this blog is still old-school (no pressure for sponsors here!) and that those of you who read this do so because you're interested in us (or our kids), not in the nuggets of wisdom or freebies I may be able to hand out. (Although, the narcissistic part of me has to admit that there would be a certain attraction in having an adoring fan-base--an old friend from high school, and the author of the C Jane Enjoy it blog, has certainly done a good job of making a career out of blogging, and I have to confess that there is a part of me that is jealous of that kind of success).

But enough about me.

Friday, I watched our neighbor's triplet girls for a couple hours in the morning. They are nice, well-behaved girls, but I was certainly glad to hand them back to their mother and glad to no longer be the sole supervisor for five children four and under. In between errands, their mom stopped by for a little bit (along with a young woman in the ward who is expecting a baby any day now, and for whom the triplet's mom is acting as a kind of doula). Andrew, of course, ratcheted up his entertainer skills for the unexpected audience. The women were particularly impressed by the following conversations:

One of the triplets brought a small animal into the room and told her mom it was a unicorn. Her mom gently corrected her, saying that it was a goat. Andrew, looked up at that and, none too gently corrected, "That's not a goat! That's a gazelle." Luckily, my neighbor thought it was funny. But it's so typical of Andrew to insist on exactness in language. (Hmm. I can't imagine where he gets that from).

The second time, one of the women asked Andrew what was on his shirt. Andrew told them it was a dinosaur. I suggested that they ask him what kind of dinosaur, so they did. Andrew said, "This is an Allosaurus." And then he proceeded to explain why it was an allosaurus and not a tyrannosaurus rex, because it had three fingers on its hands instead of two. Sometimes it is fun to be the mom of a smart, inquisitive little boy. (And I have to remember those times, because other times make me want to pull my hair out).


Yesterday we went down to SG in a spirit of optimism. Friday had been such a beautiful day that I was (who knows why) convinced that Saturday would be nice too--and of course, SG would be that much nicer than here. So I dressed myself and my kids in short-sleeves. I did bring jackets, but I hoped we wouldn't need them. Not only did we need them, but I wished (for myself) that I'd brought my coat! Most of the day was cold, windy, and wet with intermittent hail. And, of course, it snowed here.

We went down for Dan's cousin's daughter's wedding--we left the kids with a baby-sitter and enjoyed a lovely ceremony. Unfortunately, we didn't enjoy the wedding luncheon nearly as well, mostly because I'd retrieved our kids and by the time their food was ready, they were no longer willing to sit still. This is what lunch looked like, for me: Evelyn refused to eat, and Andrew wanted me to feed him, so I did (only because I thought he'd eat something this way--he didn't seem too enthusiastic about the food). While I encouraged Andrew to eat, Evelyn discovered my fork and proceeded to eat part of *my*lunch. By the time Andrew was done, Evelyn was too, and so my own meal consisted of one or two bites at a time, during which time Evelyn would have escaped through one of the two doors (you have to love folding chairs; they make it so easy for toddlers to escape) into the church gymnasium. Two more bites, then up again to fetch my daughter. And so forth, until we finally decided we were done, and I took Evelyn back to Bubby and Poppy's condo for a naptime. Luckily, by this time she was tired enough that she only put up a token resistance, despite the fact that we were missing her binkies.

And today, of course, we're looking forward to a nice meal with Bubby and Poppy, and of course, pies--because how else do you celebrate pi day?

A circle of quiet

Sometimes when I sit down to write for this blog, my mind reflects an appalling blankness at me. What to write? I know that we've just lived through another week (habit is a great thing), but what is there of that week that's worth recording? What is there funny, profound, insightful, tragic? Some weeks, there doesn't seem to be much of any of these, although I suspect it's more the fault of my faulty memory than actual events.

This week is one of those weeks. We seem to have a lot of these weeks. And when I thought about this idea, the first thing that popped into my mind was the phrase, "we live lives of quiet desperation" (from our friend H.D. Thoreau's Walden). But I don't think that's true. I think our life--at this point anyway--is more reflective of an idea that L.M. Montgomery put into many of her novels: the happiest people, like the happiest countries, have no history. And so I'll take our lack of excitement as a sign that we are living in a blessed circle of quiet right now. In saying this, I'm not trying to tempt fate--only to acknowledge that it is, in fact, a blessing to live a quiet life.

Having said all this, there are a few moments that stand out to me.

After finally starting to rejoice at the advent of spring, Thursday morning we woke up to snow flurries that, by mid morning, had turned into a near white-out blizzard. Within an hour we'd received at least two inches of snow (not lots, I know--it was more the intensity of the snow). To give you an idea of how bad it was--if briefly--Evelyn and I ran some errands while Andrew was in preschool, and when we came out to our car in the parking lot, the wind and snow combined were so fierce that we literally could not breath when the wind blustered our way. Also, I had two students email me that day to say that they would not be in class because of the aftermath of car accidents (one student rolled her car several times and said she was lucky to have walked away). Of course, by Friday the snow was only a faint memory in a few shadowy areas of our lawn.

Saturday we went down to SG where the kids were able to enjoy the balmy weather with their Grandparents and Dan and I went to the temple. We happened (not entirely accidentally, but not exactly on purpose either) to be in the same session as Dan's cousin's eldest daughter, who was taking out her endowments before her marriage next week. Somehow, knowing that she was seeing everything for the first time helped me appreciate a little more the symbolism of the ceremony. Mostly, though, I was mildly entertained by watching the three sets of engaged couples in our session, who were sitting across the aisle from each other. I couldn't see the girls, who were in front of me, but I had to smile at the expressions on the faces of the boys, who would occasionally look across the aisle as if someone had given them the greatest gift in the world and they couldn't believe their good fortune. (And maybe they had. And couldn't.)

This week I've been working on a wreath for Bubby, for a birthday present. (Lest you fear that I'm spoiling her surprise by writing about it, let me add that this was her request when I asked what she'd like). Andrew was inspired by my wreath-making to make this wreath for her. (Unfortunately, it has since been recycled into something new, so this is the only view Bubby will actually get of it!)

On a side note, I was saddened to find out when we went to our local Roberts to pick up supplies for the wreath that the company is planning to close this store. Since this is the only craft goods store in the area, I'm not sure what exactly all of the Mormon women in this town are going to do once it closes! I also apologize for the weird angle of the picture--Blogger kept automatically rotating the picture for me and I couldn't figure out how to stop it.

More pigtails on Miss Evelyn, for church this morning. (We'll see if they survive her nap).

Yesterday, Dan came home to find that his house had been taken over by a couple of monkeys. Literally. Here's one flying through the air; below you can see the two of them creeping across the floor.