Frozen, take two

I'm guessing my previous post title didn't make sense. I'd meant to include this video of Evelyn singing "Let it Go" (by now, her 2-3 time daily hearing of the soundtrack means she's got all the songs pretty much memorized), but the video was taking too long to load.

Anyway. Here, in all her glory, is Evelyn. She's pretty funny, though I think it's safe to say  no one in our family has a future career in music . . .

Frozen

Last weekend, for MLK day, we decided to take advantage of our National Parks pass to go hiking in Zion National Park. We spent the morning in SG: Dan and I attended a temple session while the kids played with cousins at the condo, followed by lunch at In-N-Out with Sarah and family.

Then we headed to the park--only to discover that it was a fee free weekend and we didn't need our pass anyway. Luckily, despite the fact the temperatures were very mild for January (50-60 degrees), the park wasn't too crowded. We followed the Watchtower hike, one we've never done before, and the kids were real troopers about it, despite the 2 hour hike. We had some spectacular views of the park, crossed a frozen waterfall, and generally enjoyed ourselves. (With the possible exception of Oliver who didn't like that he had to be carried in a pack). The only mishap occurred on the way back to the visitor's center, when Evelyn tripped on the trail and skinned her knees pretty thoroughly.

Accidents aside, it makes me happy to think that we're raising a new generation of kids who enjoy hiking and appreciate the outdoors.

The rest of the week passed pretty quietly: Dan went to work, I taught my classes, the kids went to school, Oliver puttered around the house (and this morning managed to once again find the toilet unattended: this time he filled it with all the shampoo bottles, etc., from the bathtub).

I did have a minor freak-out Tuesday after my class; after reading a response one of my students wrote about how isolated he was, I was sort of convinced that he might be deeply troubled. This persisted until I talked to the student services the next day (the student was already on their radar, but not for the same reasons) and then talked to the student himself--amazing how actual conversations can help humanize people!

I fell down on my picture-taking responsibilities this week, but I did get this gem (what Oliver thinks underwear are for, apparently):

Toddlers, pudding, and birthdays

One of Oliver's newest obsessions is with silverware--specifically, with wielding it himself. He's pretty dextrous with a fork, which he can use to spear things, but less adept with a spoon. Last week, he was clamoring for some pudding (he'd seen one of the older kids with one) and pretty soon insisted on trying to feed himself. Since we had lots of time, I let him. It started out pretty well, but then he tried drinking out of the cup--and using his fingers. By the time he finished, he was a mess. But a happy mess.

 

 

Mess seems to be Oliver's operative word this week. On Wednesday, the kids had a couple of friends over (a brother-sister pair who are in my kids' classes at school). They were playing together happily, and I assumed Oliver was playing in his room with Evelyn and her friend (where I'd seen him only minutes earlier). That is, until Evelyn called out, "Mommy, Oliver is in big, big trouble!"

Her voice was coming from the bathroom. My heart sank. I had some inkling of what I would find before I even got in there. (Those of you who saw my Facebook update on Wednesday know what I'm talking about).

Sure enough, there was Oliver, happily filling the toilet with anything he could reach. Mostly, this was stuff from the garbage can we keep in the bathroom: a wet diaper, tissue paper, feminine hygiene stuff. For good measure, he also added one of Andrew's gloves, his toothbrush, a Duplo lego and a few other things. I banished him from the bathroom (he cried), and set to work pulling everything out and then cleaning up. I think being a parent has increased my grossness tolerance, but this was stretching my tolerance pretty well. At least Oliver didn't think to try and *flush* all of that!

In other news, this week we signed both kids up for several new experiences: Andrew will be attending a "Fun-gineering" class (legos plus robotics) at the school, swim lessons (in February) and piano lessons (finally!). And Evelyn, courtesy of her newfound love of belting out show tunes, just started a music theater class that combines dancing and singing. We'll see how it goes.

And yesterday, as many of you know, was my birthday. I had a truly lovely day--even though I wasn't particularly thrilled about this particular birthday. As Dan pointed out, I can't really claim that I'm in my mid 30s any more. I'm not sure what happened: I don't feel any different than I did as a college student, though on the outside I've changed and my life has certainly changed (for the better: a great husband, cute kids, work that I enjoy).

Anyway. For the big day, we started with breakfast at the Little Brick House with Bubby and Poppy. I had a terrific omelet, and the others seemed pretty happy with hashbrowns, french toast, biscuits and gravy, etc. Andrew wound up with a stack of 3 pancakes that was bigger than his head. He ate about a third of it, and then he, Evelyn, and Oliver had leftovers for breakfast this morning (and still couldn't finish them!)

Later in the day, while Evelyn was at a birthday party (Frozen themed, appropriately enough!), Dan took the boys so that I could have some uninterrupted writing time--enough for me to finish sketching out some plot revision ideas for my novel. I took Oliver for a walk and talked with my mom; we played Just Dance as a family (I won most of the rounds!), and then in the evening Dan and I went to see Saving Mr. Banks, which was charming.

Hard to top that, in terms of birthdays: the perfect mix of family time and me time. :)

Here's to another year . . .

Januaries

We've spent most of the week adjusting to routine again: school, work, housework. Somehow it's never easy after vacation to plunge back into the banal that makes up most of our lives. We managed to enjoy the week anyway: my parents stopped by on their way back to Arizona full of stories of rocks and good food they'd eaten. We got outside to ride bikes and enjoy unseasonably warm weather (in the 50s), even while the people on the East Coast stayed inside to avoid the polar freeze. (Somehow I don't manage to feel as guilty about that as I should).

I don't have a lot to say today, but since this is my weekly effort to record our family's life, record I shall. If it weren't for that purpose, I think I would have bagged this blog long ago, since almost no one reads it anymore. Not that I'm complaining! This isn't why I write it. I write so that we can remember, ten, twenty, thirties years down the road, what it was like to have small children and a house that's never quite clean and a to-do list that may take years to complete.

I wanted to share a story from a couple of weeks ago, on the power of prayer and a child's faith. The day of Andrew's birthday party, he came to me when I picked him up for school, quite upset that one of his friends couldn't come because his mom had to work. Could we, he asked, give his friend a ride?

Of course we could. Andrew ran off to tell his friend so, and it wasn't until Andrew got back that my brain clicked in: where did his friend live? Andrew didn't know--"somewhere in the Cove, in a cul-de-sac?"--but I assumed I'd be able to find it in the phone book.

Only I couldn't. I couldn't find it online either. I called the boy's cousin (I knew the mom slightly) and got a phone number, but no one answered. I was starting to feel frantic--the party was going to start in half an hour and I kept picturing this poor kid waiting with his swim trunks for us to come.

I saw Andrew creep away to say a prayer and my heart sank. As an adult, you know that sometimes prayers don't get answered: sometimes God can't (or won't) do something about sheer human stupidity (like getting the address before the kid left school). I tried to tell Andrew that the prayer might not work.

"Couldn't we just drive around and see if we find his house?"

Um. No.

An idea--a far-fetched one, true, but an idea--flashed into my head. I went downstairs to the computer again and searched for the boy's mom on Facebook. I wasn't friends with her, but I sent her a message, hoping she'd see it in the fifteen minutes before we needed to leave. I didn't really think it would work, but it was the only other thing I could think of.

When I darted down to check the computer one last time before we left, I couldn't believe it. There it was, the message from his mom with their address. (As it turned out, she was planning on bringing her son, only a little late because she had to get off work first. But she was willing to let us pick him up earlier).

Andrew's prayer reminds me that sometimes I need to have more faith--even when things seem impossible.

* * *

On a totally unrelated note, Oliver shocked both Dan and I the other day. I gave Oliver some food on his tray and asked, "Do you like that?" He said, "I like that." At least, that's what Dan and I both heard, clear as day. Quite possibly it was just him mimicking the sounds of my words, but it gives me hope that someday this child will be as verbal as his siblings.

On second thought, maybe I don't mind if this process takes a while.

* * *
Dan took Evelyn to see Frozen yesterday (her second time; she'd gone once before with me). She loves it so much. She's been listening to the soundtrack repeatedly since we got it earlier this week, and Dan said she sang through most of the songs. She's been drawing princesses with sparkly ice dresses and throwing her heart into the story. She makes me laugh.

Andrew's baptism

Andrew's baptism yesterday capped off a long, lovely week full of family adventures.

Of course, Andrew's baptism was by far the most significant event of the week--and we are so very proud of him: for making this decision himself, for reading his scriptures and working hard to understand the covenant he was making with God. Today, he stood up to bear his testimony about how he felt peaceful during his baptism and he knew that was because Heavenly Father wanted him to understand what he was doing and that it was right. He was such a funny, solemn little kid up there that he about burst my mama-heart into a million tiny pieces.

Our stake does late baptisms, so his baptism began at 5:00 p.m. His dad baptized him, with his grandfathers as witnesses. Afterward, we hosted all the family who came (my youngest brother and his four kids; my sister and her three kids; Dan's sister with her four kids, and both sets of grandparents) for a potato-bar dinner. Andrew's choice. There's a lot more I could say about his baptism but I won't do it here because this is still a public forum and much of what I felt was private.

New Year's day, we drove down south with Robert and Trisha. The plan was to hike in Grafton, but the road was muddy and impassable, so we opted for a trail just outside Zion National Park, with beautiful views of some of the cliff faces. The kids are getting to be pretty good troopers about hiking--except for Oliver, who pretty much just wanted to climb out of the harness and/or pull my hair. Afterward, we had lunch in the parking lot: peanut butter sandwiches for the kids and bahn mi (a Thai style sandwich) for the adults.

Of course, now that I'm writing all this, I remember that our week *wasn't* perfect. Oliver was up half the night on New Year's--with croup (for the second time this winter). We took him to the doctors Thursday morning and got a steroid injection and he did much better after that.

Over the break, Oliver has also discovered chocolate. Once he got over being sick, he perfected the art of running after anyone who carried a small, shiny-wrapped package (usually chocolate) and begging for a taste.

Some pictures of the kids, just because I can.