Annie was kinda 'flitting' around the kitchen, holding her baby doll, half dancing/half skipping. I told her, "OK kiddo, we're going, let's get your shoes at the back door . . ."
She happily danced her way over to the front door, kinda oblivious.
"Um, Annie . . . the back door."
"Oh," then the BEST little blonde valley girl-ish giggle you've ever heard, "sometimes I just get confused!"
I know this is totally 'had to be there' kinda moment, but it was hilarious.
Unrelated: My deepening panic over swine flu (and our trip to Southern California coming up).
This has me mildly freaked out. Sure, intellectually I know and understand that like a handful of people in ALL of Southern California have swine flu, and we're like 10 times or better more likely to die on our drive there then of the flu (there's a pleasant thought for you). We're probably more likely to die of being struck by lightening on the Matterhorn or something. I know that 36,000 people died of the regular flu last year, yet here we are all, alive and well. But I can't help dwelling on it. Mainly this: How does one keep their allergy-prone-constant-nose-dripping toddler from rubbing her nose and eyes?! Sure, the washing their hands thing seems like a good idea, and easy enough. But, have you ever noticed how much an allergic child rubs their face? CONSTANTLY. Non-stop. I had a very real, physical, reminder of this earlier today, when Annie was painting. When done with her project, she proudly showed me her paper. I showed her her own face in the mirror . . . which was COVERED in paint. She thought it was hilarious that the entirety of her eyelids, and all the skin under her eyes, were light green. And under her nose was rubbed in mass amounts of red and purple and green paint. All I could think of was that she had just rubbed paint from her forehead, to under her chin. In like 7 minutes. And yeah, I gotta keep her from rubbing a deadly strain of the flu she'll pick up on the Tea Cups ride into her own eyeballs. I don't think there's enough hand sanitizer and wipes in the world.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Bedtime at Our House
I've mentioned before that Greg is the Annie-designated-bedtime-parent, while I handle the nursing, changing and dressing of Ellie. We have a system. And occasionally, the system gets shot when one of us goes to Elders Quorum meetings. (That'd be Greg.) Well, Greg can get Annie to fall asleep in her own bed in under a half hour. I don't know how that's possible, and haven't accomplished such a feat myself. I suspect his bedtime routine includes chloroform, but I have no real evidence beyond the fact that she's asleep. Anyway, me left to my own devices and no powerful drugs, am usually in for an hour or two of bedtime misery. And Annie's screaming and wailing always wakes up Ellie. And then both of them are screaming from their rooms. Then I kinda curse Greg for leaving me alone to put them both to bed, promising to myself to send Annie along to his next meeting. Ellie screams from her bed, which is OK, 'cause I can just leave her there until exhaustion kicks in and she finally gives up. (If that sounds mean, then you haven't had two kids who hate sleep more than life itself). It's nice having one kids who's fairly immobile. Annie on the otherhand, will walk around her room, peak out the door, try and come down the hall to my room. I've watched my fair share of "Super Nanny", so I just bring her back in to her bed and set her down, no real fuss, just set her back down without saying anything and leave again. For like the millionth time. The last few times Annie and I have done this, she's ended up dragging her blankets, babies and pillow out into the hall, laying down and falling asleep. And, I'm kinda cool with that. As long as she sleeps. I thought she looked pretty cute in the hall tonight though, so I got some pictures of her self-made bed.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
My Mind is Reeling . . .
I'm having a hard time right now. My mind is racing, my emotions are running a little wild. I'm heartbroken, and just sad. We found out yesterday that Greg's cousin, Rachel, who was 41 weeks pregnant, had just found out that her baby had passed away. She had carried her sweet baby clear to term, and then lost her before birth. Her and her husband had marveled the night before at the rolling, kicking antics of their daughter inside her mother's stomach. Then the next morning, she was gone. I can't even fathom. They induced her labor, and about 12 hours later they got to meet, and say goodbye to, their precious baby girl, Abigail.
I imagined going home to an empty nursery, and my eyes welled. I think of the heartache of going home without your baby, and it makes me physically ill. I can't even comprehend the pain, the loss. This baby she'd wanted, dreamed of, nurtured and grew, planned a life for . . . and before she even got to hold her, she was gone. I believe that God has made families in such a way that there is a connection that goes well beyond this brief sojourn in mortality. But that doesn't really mitigate the pain and emptiness that comes with the loss right here and right now. I am sure Rachel and her husband will find great comfort in their faith, that their little girl is somewhere better, somewhere happy and whole, somewhere that's peaceful and beautiful, whatever it is that awaits us beyond this . . . but right now, that has to do little to fill empty arms and aching hearts.
Yesterday started off as just such a bad day for me. Before we'd heard about anything going on outside our own home. Annie was just on one, terrorizing our household. There were new messes every time I turned around, and at one point, she slapped her baby sister across the face. That was the last straw. I was so upset with her. I stuck Annie in her room and told her she was going down for a nap, and she was not leaving that room until she slept. After about 45 minutes of screaming she actually snuck out (I should have suspected something when it got quiet) and rubbed makeup all over her hands, arms, clothes and the carpet on our stairs, but was quickly deposited back into her bed (once she was changed and cleaned up a little) where she cried for another hour or so. Then she finally fell asleep. When Greg got home from work I was exhausted, and agitated. I was still upset from how the day had gone, and I was surprised at how angry I felt at my little girl, at the messes that still had to be cleaned, and especially at her vicious strike against her little sister earlier in the day. Fortunately, Ellie had finally fell asleep around this time, and Annie was still napping, so I got to decompress a bit in a rare moment of 'both kids are sleeping' (it doesn't happen at our house often). Then I really started to think. About how lucky I am. How beautiful my daughters are. How much I love them. How wonderful my sweet husband is to me, to all of us. And how fragile life is. How fleeting. Tragedy is lurking at anytime, we just don't know when it will strike. Someone we love will announce they have cancer, a grandparent will succomb to old age, a neighbor will be in a horrific car accident. Someone will lose a job. Lose a home. These things happen every day. And you never really know when your 'day' is. I've been thinking about this a lot lately. How blessed my life is. How perfect it all seems. And I'm by no means a pessimist, waiting for the other shoe to drop; I'm just acutely aware that there are no guarantees. Except that there will be tragedies, trials and heartaches. They are part of life. Not our favorite part of life, but an important part. Our dealing with trials is what helps us to grow as human beings. Dealing with our own tragedies helps us to be empathetic and of service to someone else dealing with the same thing. I look at my Mom, who lost a baby to SIDS so many years ago, and see how one of the hardest things she's ever had to deal with has shaped her life. My Mom works with Rachel. She's been asking me nearly every day since Rachel went out on maternity leave a week or so ago if I've heard anything. When I called her and told her about what I'd just learned about Rachel's baby, my Mom cried. She then told me, "Tell her I'll talk to her anytime, when she's ready." Unlike most of us, she really does know what Rachel's going through. At least on one level. It was only a few months ago when I had a sweet woman come up to me and ask to hold Ellie. I had never met this woman, but there were big tears welling in her eyes as I handed her my little girl. She stroked her arm, touched her fingers, and handed her back to me when Ellie started to fuss. She told me then that her own infant daughter had just died a few months back. Unexplained crib death. We talked for quite awhile, with me sharing my own family's story of dealing with SIDS. I then got her phone number and told her I was sure my Mom wouldn't mind talking to her. My Mom called her the next day and they talked for hours. I think, in that situation, to find someone who actually knows what you are feeling, at least on one level, must be such a huge relief, a validation of all the crazy emotions and the very real, very human, grief process one must go through. I don't know what it's been like for my Mom to have not had the opportunity yet to raise one of her own daughters, but I do know that she's learned a lot about herself, about what family means to her, about her own faith, and about reaching out to 'mourn with those who mourn', in a way she would have never learned otherwise. My family is different because of my little sister's death, it is part of what makes us the family we are. Even the makeup of our family is directly related to my parent's losing their third child. Would we have Cody as part of our family, would my parents have stopped with less children if April was still alive? Talina wouldn't have been born just 14 months later. How would that have changed things? One of the greatest tragedies my parents faced leaves us where we are now. And we're happy. We are where we should be. I'm kinda just rambling now, I don't even remember where I was going with this, I just have racing thoughts, trying to gather them into a place where they'll hold still long enough to process.
When Annie finally woke up from her nap yesterday, I gave her an extra long hug. We apologized to each other, and I just held her for awhile. I marveled at her little curl falling on her forehead and thought to myself, "I am the luckiest person in the entire world." Last night, our well-rested little toddler decided that 7:30 was way too early to go to bed, what with her earlier nap and all. Her and Greg cuddled up and watched an extra Disney princess movie, and then we put her down an hour past her normal bedtime. She wouldn't fall asleep, so after awhile, I had her cuddle up with me in bed and I just held her for awhile. I just stared at her, taking in the way her nose upturns. The soft curls swept back behind her ears. Getting a little teary when she'd open her eyes, look up and smile, stroke my cheek with her little hand, then close her eyes again. I didn't even mind when it was 10 o'clock at night and she was still awake. Greg offered to take her to bed, but I just needed to hold my baby for awhile longer. It was probably around 10:30 when our little one got to bed, but I needed to hold her, cherish her and she needed to be held after a long day of trying to deal with her toddler emotions.
I don't know what I can really do for Rachel. Hers is a long, tough road ahead, as she comes to terms with this major road bump thrown in front of her life plans. Tragedies, no matter how difficult, unexpected or hard, at least bring people together. Remind us to be kinder than is necessary, help us to remember others and think outside of ourselves. It is also a time for all of us, even those most effected, to take stock. To count our blessings. To be thankful for the many wonderful people and things in our lives. All that is going right. Rachel and her family are in our thoughts and in our prayers. And by all of us being there for each other, we can all get through whatever we're faced with.
I imagined going home to an empty nursery, and my eyes welled. I think of the heartache of going home without your baby, and it makes me physically ill. I can't even comprehend the pain, the loss. This baby she'd wanted, dreamed of, nurtured and grew, planned a life for . . . and before she even got to hold her, she was gone. I believe that God has made families in such a way that there is a connection that goes well beyond this brief sojourn in mortality. But that doesn't really mitigate the pain and emptiness that comes with the loss right here and right now. I am sure Rachel and her husband will find great comfort in their faith, that their little girl is somewhere better, somewhere happy and whole, somewhere that's peaceful and beautiful, whatever it is that awaits us beyond this . . . but right now, that has to do little to fill empty arms and aching hearts.
Yesterday started off as just such a bad day for me. Before we'd heard about anything going on outside our own home. Annie was just on one, terrorizing our household. There were new messes every time I turned around, and at one point, she slapped her baby sister across the face. That was the last straw. I was so upset with her. I stuck Annie in her room and told her she was going down for a nap, and she was not leaving that room until she slept. After about 45 minutes of screaming she actually snuck out (I should have suspected something when it got quiet) and rubbed makeup all over her hands, arms, clothes and the carpet on our stairs, but was quickly deposited back into her bed (once she was changed and cleaned up a little) where she cried for another hour or so. Then she finally fell asleep. When Greg got home from work I was exhausted, and agitated. I was still upset from how the day had gone, and I was surprised at how angry I felt at my little girl, at the messes that still had to be cleaned, and especially at her vicious strike against her little sister earlier in the day. Fortunately, Ellie had finally fell asleep around this time, and Annie was still napping, so I got to decompress a bit in a rare moment of 'both kids are sleeping' (it doesn't happen at our house often). Then I really started to think. About how lucky I am. How beautiful my daughters are. How much I love them. How wonderful my sweet husband is to me, to all of us. And how fragile life is. How fleeting. Tragedy is lurking at anytime, we just don't know when it will strike. Someone we love will announce they have cancer, a grandparent will succomb to old age, a neighbor will be in a horrific car accident. Someone will lose a job. Lose a home. These things happen every day. And you never really know when your 'day' is. I've been thinking about this a lot lately. How blessed my life is. How perfect it all seems. And I'm by no means a pessimist, waiting for the other shoe to drop; I'm just acutely aware that there are no guarantees. Except that there will be tragedies, trials and heartaches. They are part of life. Not our favorite part of life, but an important part. Our dealing with trials is what helps us to grow as human beings. Dealing with our own tragedies helps us to be empathetic and of service to someone else dealing with the same thing. I look at my Mom, who lost a baby to SIDS so many years ago, and see how one of the hardest things she's ever had to deal with has shaped her life. My Mom works with Rachel. She's been asking me nearly every day since Rachel went out on maternity leave a week or so ago if I've heard anything. When I called her and told her about what I'd just learned about Rachel's baby, my Mom cried. She then told me, "Tell her I'll talk to her anytime, when she's ready." Unlike most of us, she really does know what Rachel's going through. At least on one level. It was only a few months ago when I had a sweet woman come up to me and ask to hold Ellie. I had never met this woman, but there were big tears welling in her eyes as I handed her my little girl. She stroked her arm, touched her fingers, and handed her back to me when Ellie started to fuss. She told me then that her own infant daughter had just died a few months back. Unexplained crib death. We talked for quite awhile, with me sharing my own family's story of dealing with SIDS. I then got her phone number and told her I was sure my Mom wouldn't mind talking to her. My Mom called her the next day and they talked for hours. I think, in that situation, to find someone who actually knows what you are feeling, at least on one level, must be such a huge relief, a validation of all the crazy emotions and the very real, very human, grief process one must go through. I don't know what it's been like for my Mom to have not had the opportunity yet to raise one of her own daughters, but I do know that she's learned a lot about herself, about what family means to her, about her own faith, and about reaching out to 'mourn with those who mourn', in a way she would have never learned otherwise. My family is different because of my little sister's death, it is part of what makes us the family we are. Even the makeup of our family is directly related to my parent's losing their third child. Would we have Cody as part of our family, would my parents have stopped with less children if April was still alive? Talina wouldn't have been born just 14 months later. How would that have changed things? One of the greatest tragedies my parents faced leaves us where we are now. And we're happy. We are where we should be. I'm kinda just rambling now, I don't even remember where I was going with this, I just have racing thoughts, trying to gather them into a place where they'll hold still long enough to process.
When Annie finally woke up from her nap yesterday, I gave her an extra long hug. We apologized to each other, and I just held her for awhile. I marveled at her little curl falling on her forehead and thought to myself, "I am the luckiest person in the entire world." Last night, our well-rested little toddler decided that 7:30 was way too early to go to bed, what with her earlier nap and all. Her and Greg cuddled up and watched an extra Disney princess movie, and then we put her down an hour past her normal bedtime. She wouldn't fall asleep, so after awhile, I had her cuddle up with me in bed and I just held her for awhile. I just stared at her, taking in the way her nose upturns. The soft curls swept back behind her ears. Getting a little teary when she'd open her eyes, look up and smile, stroke my cheek with her little hand, then close her eyes again. I didn't even mind when it was 10 o'clock at night and she was still awake. Greg offered to take her to bed, but I just needed to hold my baby for awhile longer. It was probably around 10:30 when our little one got to bed, but I needed to hold her, cherish her and she needed to be held after a long day of trying to deal with her toddler emotions.
I don't know what I can really do for Rachel. Hers is a long, tough road ahead, as she comes to terms with this major road bump thrown in front of her life plans. Tragedies, no matter how difficult, unexpected or hard, at least bring people together. Remind us to be kinder than is necessary, help us to remember others and think outside of ourselves. It is also a time for all of us, even those most effected, to take stock. To count our blessings. To be thankful for the many wonderful people and things in our lives. All that is going right. Rachel and her family are in our thoughts and in our prayers. And by all of us being there for each other, we can all get through whatever we're faced with.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Quick Trip on the Potty Train
I was listening in as Annie was in the bathroom (we're on a 'I'm wearing panties' kick today). As she emptied her little potty into the bigger toilet, I heard her sing her own little song . . . you have to imagine a very peppy tune (at the end of the song it morphed into something that may be more familiar to those who spent anytime in an LDS Primary):
"We put the pee pee in the potty! We wipe the pee pee off us but we gotta be careful, 'cause pee pee and poo poo are the kinda stuff you never want to touch! Then you have to wash your hands! Never touch pee pee or poo poo, at home, at school, at play."
Earlier today, Annie was playing on Disney's website. I noticed it was the Disney site when I kept hearing familiar Disney characters calling her by name. Apparently, it had asked her to type in her name, which she apparently can do no problem, and since then the computer was calling her Annie. The monkeys on the site then asked Annie for the email address she wanted to send her the virtual postcard she'd just created to . . . at this point, Annie called me over, "Mom! I need to ask a grown up for help with this part!" By the time I got to her, she'd already typed her own name in the first line where it asked for a name. Except that it said, "annie2". I asked her why she had a '2' on the end. She looked at me like I was stupid and replied, "Because I'm two years old Mom." Oh, of course. Just call me Hilary29. My favorite part though, was on the next line it was asking for an email address. Annie pointed out that she didn't know what an email address was, but she'd already typed in the first 3 numbers of our street address in the box. We ended up having to have the 'you don't ever share your personal information with people online . . . even 'Ooh' and 'Ahh' or other Disney characters' conversation a lot earlier than I'd ever imagined. "OK Mom," she responded, "we'll use your email address then." Ha.
We then went back to the beginning of the postcard making process so she could show me all the options she'd had. Back on the first page again, she exclaimed, "I used the rectangle one . . . I hadn't realized there were FOUR shapes to choose from!" I hadn't realized she now used the phrase "I hadn't realized!"
"We put the pee pee in the potty! We wipe the pee pee off us but we gotta be careful, 'cause pee pee and poo poo are the kinda stuff you never want to touch! Then you have to wash your hands! Never touch pee pee or poo poo, at home, at school, at play."
Earlier today, Annie was playing on Disney's website. I noticed it was the Disney site when I kept hearing familiar Disney characters calling her by name. Apparently, it had asked her to type in her name, which she apparently can do no problem, and since then the computer was calling her Annie. The monkeys on the site then asked Annie for the email address she wanted to send her the virtual postcard she'd just created to . . . at this point, Annie called me over, "Mom! I need to ask a grown up for help with this part!" By the time I got to her, she'd already typed her own name in the first line where it asked for a name. Except that it said, "annie2". I asked her why she had a '2' on the end. She looked at me like I was stupid and replied, "Because I'm two years old Mom." Oh, of course. Just call me Hilary29. My favorite part though, was on the next line it was asking for an email address. Annie pointed out that she didn't know what an email address was, but she'd already typed in the first 3 numbers of our street address in the box. We ended up having to have the 'you don't ever share your personal information with people online . . . even 'Ooh' and 'Ahh' or other Disney characters' conversation a lot earlier than I'd ever imagined. "OK Mom," she responded, "we'll use your email address then." Ha.
We then went back to the beginning of the postcard making process so she could show me all the options she'd had. Back on the first page again, she exclaimed, "I used the rectangle one . . . I hadn't realized there were FOUR shapes to choose from!" I hadn't realized she now used the phrase "I hadn't realized!"
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Annie's View of Things
Here's a few things Annie's said this morning . . . just in the hour or two before Church:
Reading herself a book outloud this morning, about Christmas:
"Then it was Christmas, and Santa came, and he said, "Everyone, GIVE UP!" (Apparently he had them at gunpoint . . . at least that was what her tone implied.) Then, "And then he told the deers, 'FLY Reindeer!' And then we made him lots of nummy food, because he likes that, and you do what he says."
I don't remember the "Santa-as-mercenary" thing around Christmas time, but apparently he left quite the impression.
Later, she was looking at her eyes in the mirror . . . then pulling the bottom lids down to expose the red inside of the eye socket (something that makes me squeamish, I have to look away), exclaims, "Look Mommy! I look like an astronaut!" So random it cracked me up.
Along another random vein, she was singing to herself and I hear, "South Africa! Oh, South Africa!"
I asked, "Annie, what are you singing about?"
"South Africa." Duh, Mom.
"Do you know what South Africa is?"
"A country." Duh again, Mom. "Of course, I don't know what a country is."
Reading herself a book outloud this morning, about Christmas:
"Then it was Christmas, and Santa came, and he said, "Everyone, GIVE UP!" (Apparently he had them at gunpoint . . . at least that was what her tone implied.) Then, "And then he told the deers, 'FLY Reindeer!' And then we made him lots of nummy food, because he likes that, and you do what he says."
I don't remember the "Santa-as-mercenary" thing around Christmas time, but apparently he left quite the impression.
Later, she was looking at her eyes in the mirror . . . then pulling the bottom lids down to expose the red inside of the eye socket (something that makes me squeamish, I have to look away), exclaims, "Look Mommy! I look like an astronaut!" So random it cracked me up.
Along another random vein, she was singing to herself and I hear, "South Africa! Oh, South Africa!"
I asked, "Annie, what are you singing about?"
"South Africa." Duh, Mom.
"Do you know what South Africa is?"
"A country." Duh again, Mom. "Of course, I don't know what a country is."
Dang, Double Dang
So, I'm kinda 'little black rain cloud-ish' right now. I just have this little knot in the pit of my stomach. I'm thinking about Annie, and some of what she has ahead of her.
Annie's always had a runny nose, we're already on daily asthma inhalers, and we've had run-ins with hives. Since infanthood she's had 'allergy shiners'. (Kids with chronic allergies tend to have dark circles under their eyes a lot of the time. Our new allergy doctor was impressed when I used the term at Annie's first consultation with him, but this is just a part of the life and lingo of my family.)
But see, Annie had her first bad allergic reaction yesterday. She was playing at her friend's house, and despite spending time around cats in the past, this seemed to be the time where her allergies finally kicked into high gear, and she had one heck of a reaction. Her eyes were swollen and puffy and painful and red and awful. You know the 'inside' part of your eyelid . . . like when you pull your eyelids down and there's the reddish-pink part underneath there, well hers was so inflamed and swollen that it was covering part of the whites of her eyes. It was actually kinda creepy looking. It was mildly painful, but more scary looking than really bad. With some time and some Benadryl the swelling went down, and it doesn't seem to be bugging her now. They're still a little swollen, but no real harm done.
It's just that, I've been there. I had my eyes swell almost all the way shut more times than I can count. As a little kid, not much older than Annie, I had to get drops in my eyes when this happened. They were painful and stung and I hated them . . . but they made things better. I would get the drops out and bring them to my Mom when my allergies started bugging me. Then I'd run and hide and would have to be forcibly held down to have them administered. But I'd always go and get them, because part of me understood they'd make me feel better. I've been hospitalized a handful of times because I spent a little too much time around furry four legged creatures. My eyes itched, my asthma flared, my nose dripped and I coughed and sneezed more than most of my friends. I had several embarassing snot-related incidents as a kid. I hate allergies. Even more, I hate that my daughter has them. I hate that we give her an inhaler every day just to keep her from coughing all night long. I hate that Annie's had hives, or that both of my daughters constantly battle excema. I hate what yesterday's reaction means for the rest of her childhood. Worrying about how much time you can spend at certain friends' houses before things got 'too bad' (for me, longer at dog-houses, shorter at cat-houses, rodent-houses depended on the level of cleanliness . . . but all left me with itchy eyes and a runny nose for the rest of the day.) Skin crawling after playing with someone's cute new puppy. Always begging to sleep over at a friend's house that had cats . . . finally wearing Mom down, then having to go to the emergency room that night. And now I know I've passed this onto her.
Stupid genetics.
Annie's always had a runny nose, we're already on daily asthma inhalers, and we've had run-ins with hives. Since infanthood she's had 'allergy shiners'. (Kids with chronic allergies tend to have dark circles under their eyes a lot of the time. Our new allergy doctor was impressed when I used the term at Annie's first consultation with him, but this is just a part of the life and lingo of my family.)
But see, Annie had her first bad allergic reaction yesterday. She was playing at her friend's house, and despite spending time around cats in the past, this seemed to be the time where her allergies finally kicked into high gear, and she had one heck of a reaction. Her eyes were swollen and puffy and painful and red and awful. You know the 'inside' part of your eyelid . . . like when you pull your eyelids down and there's the reddish-pink part underneath there, well hers was so inflamed and swollen that it was covering part of the whites of her eyes. It was actually kinda creepy looking. It was mildly painful, but more scary looking than really bad. With some time and some Benadryl the swelling went down, and it doesn't seem to be bugging her now. They're still a little swollen, but no real harm done.
It's just that, I've been there. I had my eyes swell almost all the way shut more times than I can count. As a little kid, not much older than Annie, I had to get drops in my eyes when this happened. They were painful and stung and I hated them . . . but they made things better. I would get the drops out and bring them to my Mom when my allergies started bugging me. Then I'd run and hide and would have to be forcibly held down to have them administered. But I'd always go and get them, because part of me understood they'd make me feel better. I've been hospitalized a handful of times because I spent a little too much time around furry four legged creatures. My eyes itched, my asthma flared, my nose dripped and I coughed and sneezed more than most of my friends. I had several embarassing snot-related incidents as a kid. I hate allergies. Even more, I hate that my daughter has them. I hate that we give her an inhaler every day just to keep her from coughing all night long. I hate that Annie's had hives, or that both of my daughters constantly battle excema. I hate what yesterday's reaction means for the rest of her childhood. Worrying about how much time you can spend at certain friends' houses before things got 'too bad' (for me, longer at dog-houses, shorter at cat-houses, rodent-houses depended on the level of cleanliness . . . but all left me with itchy eyes and a runny nose for the rest of the day.) Skin crawling after playing with someone's cute new puppy. Always begging to sleep over at a friend's house that had cats . . . finally wearing Mom down, then having to go to the emergency room that night. And now I know I've passed this onto her.
Stupid genetics.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Truer Words Have Never Been Spoken
It's bedtime at our house. Greg is mid-project out in the garage, so I'm flying solo tonight. Usually Greg takes care of all of Annie's bedtime routine, so I'm trying to fill some pretty big shoes. I get Annie snuggled up in bed, with the appropriate blankets and baby dolls. I'm at the door as I turn to watch her squirm, wiggle, toss and turn, murmur and moan a little. (Surprising, no tears though.) Finally, a sweet little voice calls out, "Mommy?"
"Yes, baby?"
"I don't think I'm very good at going to sleep."
It must be genetic . . . Ellie's been screaming for 10 minutes now (despite having already fallen asleep while nursing; she's protesting being set down.) Annie told me, "I would fall asleep, but Ellie's trying to keep me awake with her crying."
"Yes, baby?"
"I don't think I'm very good at going to sleep."
It must be genetic . . . Ellie's been screaming for 10 minutes now (despite having already fallen asleep while nursing; she's protesting being set down.) Annie told me, "I would fall asleep, but Ellie's trying to keep me awake with her crying."
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Whistle While You Work
This week has been busy. Really busy. My parents are moving into a new house, and there's been enough cleaning, scrubbing, disinfecting, exploring, unpacking and organizing to keep the whole family busy. (And we're really just getting started! We're moving most of the stuff tomorrow and Saturday!)
The upside of all this has been a lot of time spent with my family. And you know how much I love spending time with my family; my sisters in particular. Laughing and talking with my sisters makes anything go by faster. Actually, only Star was there tonight, but seriously, we're all pretty much interchangeable . . . it could've just as easily been Lacy or Talina (Lacy would've just been a tad more offensive than Star, Talina a bit nerdier.) :-) (Greg just said, "It's true.")
Tonight my Mom, Star and I had the task of unpacking and organizing my Mom's new kitchen. Her beautiful new kitchen, that is unfortunately significantly smaller than her old, spacious kitchen. It was tough. But we perservered. And threw a lot of stuff out. (Usually with my Mom's back turned.) I came across a small ceramic hand that had been busted off it's original sculpture, carefully tucked into a dish for safekeeping, "Can you throw nothing away?! We're keeping severed Jesus hands now?" I asked.
"Well, I love that statue you guys gave me, I really do want to try and fix it," she said.
"Um, you do realize we bought that for like four bucks at the Dollar Store by Cody's soccer field, right?"
"Oh."
She did end up keeping it though. Mom's are so sentimental. (I should know, I have the first thing Annie ever colored on hidden away in my top drawer.)
It is hard to get that woman to throw anything away though. "Mom this expired in 1999. That's not even in this century. That is TEN years ago. It's going in the trash." "Mom, this lazy susan doesn't even FIT in your new cupboards! And looking at the tag on the bottom of it, you got it for fifty cents from the D.I. . . . send it back from whence it came!" (Of course, it could be worse . . . we have to get my Grandpa out of the house, then execute a stealth raid on his basement, throwing out trash, empty boxes and soiled mattresses that are older than I am. Then we tell him, "Oh, we just straightened some stuff up," when he asks if anything is missing.)
At one point, Star came across not one, but two 'Root Beer Concentrate' bottles. I can't even remember the last time we made root beer. "Seriously Mom, TWO Root Beer concentrates?" Star asked.
"Hey, that's stuff's hard to come by," my Mom offered as a lame excuse.
"Yeah, so's crack." Star smartalecked.
I added, "Doesn't mean you need to stockpile it in your kitchen."
Things got progressively wackier as the night drove on, and I could recount a bunch of stories . . . but they run the gamut of 'you had to be there to find them funny', slightly offensive, mildly sacrilegious, highly embarassing, inside jokes or visual gags. It was funny though. At one point Star was laughing really hard at something she'd just said (which cannot be repeated in such a public, albeit private, forum), and she giggled, "I am SO funny." It's true. Y'all just missed out. Don't you wish you'd been cleaning, organizing and unpacking all evening? If you want to swing by Friday or Saturday, I can't promise it'll be the funnest thing you'll do all weekend, but it just might be!
The upside of all this has been a lot of time spent with my family. And you know how much I love spending time with my family; my sisters in particular. Laughing and talking with my sisters makes anything go by faster. Actually, only Star was there tonight, but seriously, we're all pretty much interchangeable . . . it could've just as easily been Lacy or Talina (Lacy would've just been a tad more offensive than Star, Talina a bit nerdier.) :-) (Greg just said, "It's true.")
Tonight my Mom, Star and I had the task of unpacking and organizing my Mom's new kitchen. Her beautiful new kitchen, that is unfortunately significantly smaller than her old, spacious kitchen. It was tough. But we perservered. And threw a lot of stuff out. (Usually with my Mom's back turned.) I came across a small ceramic hand that had been busted off it's original sculpture, carefully tucked into a dish for safekeeping, "Can you throw nothing away?! We're keeping severed Jesus hands now?" I asked.
"Well, I love that statue you guys gave me, I really do want to try and fix it," she said.
"Um, you do realize we bought that for like four bucks at the Dollar Store by Cody's soccer field, right?"
"Oh."
She did end up keeping it though. Mom's are so sentimental. (I should know, I have the first thing Annie ever colored on hidden away in my top drawer.)
It is hard to get that woman to throw anything away though. "Mom this expired in 1999. That's not even in this century. That is TEN years ago. It's going in the trash." "Mom, this lazy susan doesn't even FIT in your new cupboards! And looking at the tag on the bottom of it, you got it for fifty cents from the D.I. . . . send it back from whence it came!" (Of course, it could be worse . . . we have to get my Grandpa out of the house, then execute a stealth raid on his basement, throwing out trash, empty boxes and soiled mattresses that are older than I am. Then we tell him, "Oh, we just straightened some stuff up," when he asks if anything is missing.)
At one point, Star came across not one, but two 'Root Beer Concentrate' bottles. I can't even remember the last time we made root beer. "Seriously Mom, TWO Root Beer concentrates?" Star asked.
"Hey, that's stuff's hard to come by," my Mom offered as a lame excuse.
"Yeah, so's crack." Star smartalecked.
I added, "Doesn't mean you need to stockpile it in your kitchen."
Things got progressively wackier as the night drove on, and I could recount a bunch of stories . . . but they run the gamut of 'you had to be there to find them funny', slightly offensive, mildly sacrilegious, highly embarassing, inside jokes or visual gags. It was funny though. At one point Star was laughing really hard at something she'd just said (which cannot be repeated in such a public, albeit private, forum), and she giggled, "I am SO funny." It's true. Y'all just missed out. Don't you wish you'd been cleaning, organizing and unpacking all evening? If you want to swing by Friday or Saturday, I can't promise it'll be the funnest thing you'll do all weekend, but it just might be!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Girly Girls
So, after trying my new red lip gloss (all over her face) and getting that cleaned up, Annie decided it was time to get her hair done for the day. Who knew you could fit so many bows on top of one little girl's head? Ellie did her part by trying to eat any and all bows, clips or barrette's left out. This is why I try to keep them put away in the bathroom, in a closed cabinet, in a lidded rubbermaid . . . of course, these precautions are useless against a three year old who wants to get into them . . .
(It may just be me . . . but I swear they look more and more like sisters every day.)
(It may just be me . . . but I swear they look more and more like sisters every day.)
Terrible Threes?
I'd heard all about the Terrible Twos . . . I'd geared up for them, I was ready. I figured after the terrifically hellish first year of non-stop screaming and never sleeping that was Annie, than the Terrible Twos were something I could handle. Then two came. And she was good. Like, really good. I mean sure, she still freaks out and has monstrous meltdowns from time to time, but she's a toddler not completely in control of her emotions or body, and that has to get frustrating. And she's independent like you wouldn't believe, but relatively reasonable in her independence, if that's possible. She gave up naps early, despite still needing them, and occasionally became a little crazy person in the afternoon due to sheer exhaustion. And despite all that "you let them cry asleep and they learn to sleep on their own" crap I've been fed, Annie still cries every single night before bed. Usually starting as soon as she realizes it's bedtime. But all in all, I was shocked to watch this well mannered, sweet, fairly even tempered two year old walking around claiming to be my daughter.
Now we're closing in on three. And OH MY GOODNESS . . . the child has gone insane. EVERYTHING is a battle. The tired afternoon crankiness has escalated to daily four hour plus stretches of sheer torture for all involved. Tantrums that last FOREVER. I used to be able to calm her down, get her to take deep breaths, cuddle in my arms and allow herself to settle down a little, or put her in her own space and she'd descalate on her own. Now each and every attempt to help her find her center is seen as a direct attack on her own personal free will, and she freaks out even more. Putting her somewhere secluded leads to us getting to listen to a very angry kid scream and throw stuff for 20 minutes or more. She has to do EVERYTHING on her own now, but often just won't. You can give her 15 minutes to pick out her own shoes, when it's finally past time to go and you just go and grab shoes and put them on her, she can scream for a good thirty minutes before someone is able to calm her down (usually not me). She can be so tired after a whole morning playing outside, that she can barely put one foot in front of the other, and yet if I put her down for a nap, she can scream and rant and throw things around her room for a good hour and a half. Never falling asleep . . . I just finally give up. She's started really freaking out in the car whenever we try to go somewhere. Either we didn't let her get in the right door, didn't let her get into her carseat the way she wanted, didn't strap her in the correct way (she never informs of this until we've made a 'mistake'.) The other evening, on a little Monday night family excursion, she wigged out as we drove down the street. I had Greg pull over and we tried to give her a chance to calm down. Finally, I unstrapped her, got her out and walked home with a shrieking (nearly) three year old and put her in bed (where she stayed for two hours, never falling asleep), while Ellie and Greg went out for some 'family time' minus half the family. The one that throws me the most though, is we had a nearly perfect transition from only child to older sister . . . she has always been either super sweet and helpful, or at the least just disinterested in Ellie. Lately (probably due to Ellie's new found extreme-mobileness) she has gone out of her way to 'put Ellie in her place'. Yesterday even getting a time out for just knocking the poor baby over. Just went up to her as Ellie was standing up against something, and shoved her over. Um, what?! She's never been like this before. She's constantly getting mad at Ellie. For touching her toy. Looking at her toy. Thinking about looking at or touching her toy. If Ellie cries (which is often) Annie yells at her to stop. If Ellie laughs loudly (which is often) Annie yells at her to stop. She's also turned on poor Greg. She is so tired and grumpy and overwhelmed in the afternoons, what with the no napping and all, but no matter what I've tried (short of driving to Provo, and that even only works half the time) she won't sleep. A lot of the time when Greg comes in from work, she happily greets him, or engages in a game of 'hidden Annie' and laughs and squeals in delight as she's found and tickled. But now, the other part of the time, she's moody and standoffish, and has, at times, swung at him and yelled, "NO! Go away!" Seriously, this kid worships her Dad . . . Mommy's not allowed even near the bedtime rituals now because she so prefers all things Dad at night, but lately she's just gotten, well, mean. Sleeping has become even more of a nightmare than before (which is saying something). I mean, seriously, THREE YEARS OLD next month and we still have crying it out every single night. And it takes forever, unless Greg goes in and holds her hand or sits next to her (which I think it a 'control' issue on her part) . . . but then she just wakes up in the middle of the night, comes in and informs me that Daddy left her room and needs to come back, or she just wants into bed with us. We had MONTHS of none of these problems. Her sleeping through the night without leaving bed (although, she never has gone to bed without crying, that's been a problem since birth . . . and I can kinda imagine the kid in her freshman dorm, sobbing about how nobody loves her, she's afraid, or she just wants ONE MORE BOOK read to her.)
I know, that like all things (except the sleep thing, seriously, I'm no longer sure she'll EVER outgrow it) it's a phase. She'll grow out of it, grow up. Probably too quickly. She's still a sweet kid, she 'mothers' all her little friends who come over (especially the little boys), she's polite and usually very respectful, can be such a caretaker, she is genuinely concerned about other people and their feelings. She can be so sweet and loving to her little sister, and to her parents. I think she's just possessed the other half of the time. It's the only explanation that makes sense.
Note: I heard her scold, "Don't look at me, Ellie! NO!! Don't look at me!" when I first started writing this. Poor Ellie looked confused. But by the end, let's say 5-10 minutes later at the most, she's singing Ellie songs she's made up and 'teaching' her a little game she just made up using a flashlight she just found under my bed. Of course, in the time it took to write that last sentence, she changed dramatically, and yelled, "Ellie! Don't drop it! I told you that! If it lands on my toe it would hurt me BAD!") Now they're laughing. I think toddlerhood is inherently bipolar.
Now we're closing in on three. And OH MY GOODNESS . . . the child has gone insane. EVERYTHING is a battle. The tired afternoon crankiness has escalated to daily four hour plus stretches of sheer torture for all involved. Tantrums that last FOREVER. I used to be able to calm her down, get her to take deep breaths, cuddle in my arms and allow herself to settle down a little, or put her in her own space and she'd descalate on her own. Now each and every attempt to help her find her center is seen as a direct attack on her own personal free will, and she freaks out even more. Putting her somewhere secluded leads to us getting to listen to a very angry kid scream and throw stuff for 20 minutes or more. She has to do EVERYTHING on her own now, but often just won't. You can give her 15 minutes to pick out her own shoes, when it's finally past time to go and you just go and grab shoes and put them on her, she can scream for a good thirty minutes before someone is able to calm her down (usually not me). She can be so tired after a whole morning playing outside, that she can barely put one foot in front of the other, and yet if I put her down for a nap, she can scream and rant and throw things around her room for a good hour and a half. Never falling asleep . . . I just finally give up. She's started really freaking out in the car whenever we try to go somewhere. Either we didn't let her get in the right door, didn't let her get into her carseat the way she wanted, didn't strap her in the correct way (she never informs of this until we've made a 'mistake'.) The other evening, on a little Monday night family excursion, she wigged out as we drove down the street. I had Greg pull over and we tried to give her a chance to calm down. Finally, I unstrapped her, got her out and walked home with a shrieking (nearly) three year old and put her in bed (where she stayed for two hours, never falling asleep), while Ellie and Greg went out for some 'family time' minus half the family. The one that throws me the most though, is we had a nearly perfect transition from only child to older sister . . . she has always been either super sweet and helpful, or at the least just disinterested in Ellie. Lately (probably due to Ellie's new found extreme-mobileness) she has gone out of her way to 'put Ellie in her place'. Yesterday even getting a time out for just knocking the poor baby over. Just went up to her as Ellie was standing up against something, and shoved her over. Um, what?! She's never been like this before. She's constantly getting mad at Ellie. For touching her toy. Looking at her toy. Thinking about looking at or touching her toy. If Ellie cries (which is often) Annie yells at her to stop. If Ellie laughs loudly (which is often) Annie yells at her to stop. She's also turned on poor Greg. She is so tired and grumpy and overwhelmed in the afternoons, what with the no napping and all, but no matter what I've tried (short of driving to Provo, and that even only works half the time) she won't sleep. A lot of the time when Greg comes in from work, she happily greets him, or engages in a game of 'hidden Annie' and laughs and squeals in delight as she's found and tickled. But now, the other part of the time, she's moody and standoffish, and has, at times, swung at him and yelled, "NO! Go away!" Seriously, this kid worships her Dad . . . Mommy's not allowed even near the bedtime rituals now because she so prefers all things Dad at night, but lately she's just gotten, well, mean. Sleeping has become even more of a nightmare than before (which is saying something). I mean, seriously, THREE YEARS OLD next month and we still have crying it out every single night. And it takes forever, unless Greg goes in and holds her hand or sits next to her (which I think it a 'control' issue on her part) . . . but then she just wakes up in the middle of the night, comes in and informs me that Daddy left her room and needs to come back, or she just wants into bed with us. We had MONTHS of none of these problems. Her sleeping through the night without leaving bed (although, she never has gone to bed without crying, that's been a problem since birth . . . and I can kinda imagine the kid in her freshman dorm, sobbing about how nobody loves her, she's afraid, or she just wants ONE MORE BOOK read to her.)
I know, that like all things (except the sleep thing, seriously, I'm no longer sure she'll EVER outgrow it) it's a phase. She'll grow out of it, grow up. Probably too quickly. She's still a sweet kid, she 'mothers' all her little friends who come over (especially the little boys), she's polite and usually very respectful, can be such a caretaker, she is genuinely concerned about other people and their feelings. She can be so sweet and loving to her little sister, and to her parents. I think she's just possessed the other half of the time. It's the only explanation that makes sense.
Note: I heard her scold, "Don't look at me, Ellie! NO!! Don't look at me!" when I first started writing this. Poor Ellie looked confused. But by the end, let's say 5-10 minutes later at the most, she's singing Ellie songs she's made up and 'teaching' her a little game she just made up using a flashlight she just found under my bed. Of course, in the time it took to write that last sentence, she changed dramatically, and yelled, "Ellie! Don't drop it! I told you that! If it lands on my toe it would hurt me BAD!") Now they're laughing. I think toddlerhood is inherently bipolar.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
She Loves Her Daddy
This happened a few days ago, but I keep forgetting to put it on the blog, but I definitely don't want to lose this story . . .
The other day Greg called from work to say 'hi' during the middle of the day ('cause he's just sweet like that), and Ellie was fascinated with the phone while I was talking, repeatedly reaching for it and 'talking' loudly towards it. So, I took the phone and held it up to her ear and Greg talked to her. She just grinned from ear to ear and thought it was the coolest thing ever. I took the phone back after a minute, said my 'goodbyes' and hung up. Ellie stared at me for a second, obviously miffed, then grabbed the phone with her two little hands and loudly exclaimed, "Da da!!"
The other day Greg called from work to say 'hi' during the middle of the day ('cause he's just sweet like that), and Ellie was fascinated with the phone while I was talking, repeatedly reaching for it and 'talking' loudly towards it. So, I took the phone and held it up to her ear and Greg talked to her. She just grinned from ear to ear and thought it was the coolest thing ever. I took the phone back after a minute, said my 'goodbyes' and hung up. Ellie stared at me for a second, obviously miffed, then grabbed the phone with her two little hands and loudly exclaimed, "Da da!!"
Monday, April 20, 2009
If I Could Reach Through This Phone . . .
So, I've been plagued by some telemarketers lately. I'm not so good at getting rid of them (like Greg is), never quite forceful enough to convince them my 'not interested' really means 'not freaking interested'. Case in point, the 'you've won a free vacation, all you need to do to claim it is come into our little presentation this weekend' people. (I've won it, you say? But apparently my 'winning' it is contingent on my age and household income falling within appropriate ranges'?) Now, I'm not entirely against going to a time share presentation to get some free stuff, I'm just not in the mood for it right now. I did the (wimpy), "I'd need to talk to my husband about it," thing, even suggesting they call back when we was home (so he could get rid of them -- sorry, hon!)
Anyway, they called me back this morning, asking if I'd had a chance to talk to my husband about it. Honestly, I'd forgotten to even mention it to him, but I responded, "You know, he really wasn't that interested." (See how wimpy I am, I can't even just tell them, "No thanks" of my own accord. Bad Hilary.) The lady took this really disappointed tone, and was all, "Really? Your husband isn't 'interested'? In a free vacation?" At this point she honestly seemed to be headed into a "he must not be too bright" tangent that would mightly piss me off, being that I married one of the single smartest people I've ever met. But then she really shocked me by basically implying that my husband just must not really love me.
"I hear little ones in the background . . . that has to be hard being home all day with them. Are you really saying your husband wouldn't want to give you a vacation? I think he needs to think of you. Sometimes we just have to tell our husbands that what we want is more important than what they want, and they need to think of us first every once in awhile! I really can't believe he wouldn't want you to be happy . . . " Seriously, I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle the lady. My sweet, always-puts-me-before-anything-else-in-the-world, husband is being bad mouthed by this woman, and it made me want to pimp slap her into tomorrow. Instead, I 'politely' told her we were done talking and hung up. But, seriously? The nerve.
Anyway, they called me back this morning, asking if I'd had a chance to talk to my husband about it. Honestly, I'd forgotten to even mention it to him, but I responded, "You know, he really wasn't that interested." (See how wimpy I am, I can't even just tell them, "No thanks" of my own accord. Bad Hilary.) The lady took this really disappointed tone, and was all, "Really? Your husband isn't 'interested'? In a free vacation?" At this point she honestly seemed to be headed into a "he must not be too bright" tangent that would mightly piss me off, being that I married one of the single smartest people I've ever met. But then she really shocked me by basically implying that my husband just must not really love me.
"I hear little ones in the background . . . that has to be hard being home all day with them. Are you really saying your husband wouldn't want to give you a vacation? I think he needs to think of you. Sometimes we just have to tell our husbands that what we want is more important than what they want, and they need to think of us first every once in awhile! I really can't believe he wouldn't want you to be happy . . . " Seriously, I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle the lady. My sweet, always-puts-me-before-anything-else-in-the-world, husband is being bad mouthed by this woman, and it made me want to pimp slap her into tomorrow. Instead, I 'politely' told her we were done talking and hung up. But, seriously? The nerve.
Random Pictures
I finally got around to downloading pictures from both of my cameras on Sunday. I only had a couple new pictures on our main camera, since we'd downloaded all of Easter's alrelady . . . but we have a smaller camera (that Annie likes to play with and take pictures with), and it apparently had photos going back two weeks on it. So, here's a bunch of completely random, unrelated, no-story-behind-them kinda pictures.
Ellie was in on the dress up adventure down in the basement, but since none of the clothes actually fit her, she just came up clutching a wand and some jewelry.
Dress up outfit #2. I love that she's at an age now where the accessories matter. When she was littler, you slapped a dress on her and she was happy . . . it's hilarious now that she sifts through all her stuff looking for matching shoes, bracelets and a tiara.
Here's Ellie looking up at me, while talking on the cell phone and holding onto a bag of Doritos or something . . . they grow up so fast. (OK, actually, it's a bag of all organic crackers, and they weren't even open, she just likes the sound the bag makes . . . Doritos just sounded cooler.)
Ellie playing up to our mirror before we got it mounted on the wall.
Annie and Ellie watching me out the door while I ran outside for something. Annie LOVES these monkey pajamas . . . we're running into the problem that she wants to wear them every single day, but her mean Mom insists on washing them (and is not organized enough to make sure they get washed and dried during the 10-12 hours Annie doesn't actually have them on her body.) It's caused a couple even-uglier-than-usual-bedtime-scenes.
Annie hurt her hand the other day, getting a little scrape. She was kinda whimpering and telling me it stung. I told her I was so sorry, but that it would feel better soon. She looked at me miserably then just wailed, "NO! It'll hurt FOREVER!" Saddest thing ever.
Of course, about a half hour later, she wandered over to me and casually mentioned, "Mom, my wrist doesn't hurt anymore . . . maybe you were right. It didn't hurt forever. Just for a little bit ever."
I love Ellie in these little blue pajamas . . . they're 'less babyish', in that their not the zip up kind, and when she toddles around the house in them (while holding onto furniture), she just looks like this miniature person wandering my house.
Here's Annie just laughing while lying on the bed . . . she'd possibly just been tickled.
Annie playing dress up.
Ellie was in on the dress up adventure down in the basement, but since none of the clothes actually fit her, she just came up clutching a wand and some jewelry.
Dress up outfit #2. I love that she's at an age now where the accessories matter. When she was littler, you slapped a dress on her and she was happy . . . it's hilarious now that she sifts through all her stuff looking for matching shoes, bracelets and a tiara.
Here's Ellie looking up at me, while talking on the cell phone and holding onto a bag of Doritos or something . . . they grow up so fast. (OK, actually, it's a bag of all organic crackers, and they weren't even open, she just likes the sound the bag makes . . . Doritos just sounded cooler.)
Ellie playing up to our mirror before we got it mounted on the wall.
Annie and Ellie watching me out the door while I ran outside for something. Annie LOVES these monkey pajamas . . . we're running into the problem that she wants to wear them every single day, but her mean Mom insists on washing them (and is not organized enough to make sure they get washed and dried during the 10-12 hours Annie doesn't actually have them on her body.) It's caused a couple even-uglier-than-usual-bedtime-scenes.
Annie hurt her hand the other day, getting a little scrape. She was kinda whimpering and telling me it stung. I told her I was so sorry, but that it would feel better soon. She looked at me miserably then just wailed, "NO! It'll hurt FOREVER!" Saddest thing ever.
Of course, about a half hour later, she wandered over to me and casually mentioned, "Mom, my wrist doesn't hurt anymore . . . maybe you were right. It didn't hurt forever. Just for a little bit ever."
Friday, April 17, 2009
My Waste of Time
I've gotten into a couple conversations lately about blogging. I've been told, ever so sweetly, how it's absolutely baffling how young mothers, like myself, are able to 'waste so much time' blogging these days.
Here's the thing . . .
I have never wasted one single second of my life blogging. On the internet, yes. On facebook, oh heck yes (it's a time-sucking vortex that is ever so addicting). Twitter was such a waste of my time for me that I've already cancelled my account. But blogging, not a single second wasted. If I take five to thirty minutes of my day recounting Annie's latest antics, Ellie's newest milestone, or even my own crazy ranting, I have not wasted my time (yours maybe, but not mine.) I love to write.
Before blogging I was known to send long, rambly emails to my best friends. I'm valued to friends and family afar off as quite the letter writer . . . her first Christmas back after an LDS Mission, my sister Star gave me a giant three ring binder, filled with all the letters I'd sent her on her mission. It's the greatest journal one could ever keep.
I was a note passer in school, and am still known to pass my fair share of notes during Church even now (I know, it's bad). One of my most prized possessions is a little notebook I kept in my scriptures the first year Greg and I were married. At times, I would (being the bad influence I am) write back and forth with him during Sacrament meetings. I would write little love notes for him to find and read later in the book. I love going back and reading it. Captured in that book are some of my fondest, most personal memories of my first year of marriage. To me, written language is an unparalled asset. The ability to share and communicate through writing is nothing short of a gift of God. I love to write. I love to read. Greg's grandfather recently published an autobiography, and I personally think having a 90+ year old grandparent write and publish their own book is the coolest thing I've ever heard of. It makes me wish all of my grandparents were similarly motivated. My sweet husband caught onto my affection for the written word early, and is amazing about randomly sending me his love on a piece of paper (my personal favorite was when those love letters came on green engineering graph paper . . . it was somehow even more touching and personal when the very paper itself was a very visual reminder of the person I married.)
Every month I print out my blog. I add more personal notes, explanations and various 'in hindsight' kinda comments and print it, three hole punch it, and add it my family journal. Before blogging I kept a handwritten journal for my girls. A few times a week I would write and write and write until my hand hurt, catching up on all the amazing things I'd experienced as a mother in the prior few days. Now I can type, a time or two a day in a few minutes what used to take me much longer to hand write, and since I've made it more of a daily habit, I don't forget what exactly was said, or the little nuances that made the situation so funny. I have captured hundreds of little stories and quotes on my blog that would have otherwise been lost. In my mind, it's been worthwhile. And again, I just love to write. Even if I kept this blog completely private, not sharing it with anyone at all, I would still write. I haven't really delved into the realms of the deep nitty gritty on my blog, mainly sticking to the lighter fare of Annie-quotables, but the very act of writing, of recording my family's own history, is cathartic, rewarding and worthwhile in my own eyes. I have not wasted a single second.
(Edited to add: For me, the 'journaling' aspect of blogging is what makes it such an important use of my time. But, if I had a blog entirely about, say, underwater basket weaving, because that was my passion, that would also be worthwhile. I have a cousin who has her family blog, as well as a blog about natural birth practices. I think sharing her passion is probably an important emotional, mental and spiritual exercise that makes her a better, more well-balanced person and mother. Just wanted to qualify my statements, that just the act of writing about what is important, is worthwhile . . . not just if it is a journal of sorts. That make sense?)
Here's the thing . . .
I have never wasted one single second of my life blogging. On the internet, yes. On facebook, oh heck yes (it's a time-sucking vortex that is ever so addicting). Twitter was such a waste of my time for me that I've already cancelled my account. But blogging, not a single second wasted. If I take five to thirty minutes of my day recounting Annie's latest antics, Ellie's newest milestone, or even my own crazy ranting, I have not wasted my time (yours maybe, but not mine.) I love to write.
Before blogging I was known to send long, rambly emails to my best friends. I'm valued to friends and family afar off as quite the letter writer . . . her first Christmas back after an LDS Mission, my sister Star gave me a giant three ring binder, filled with all the letters I'd sent her on her mission. It's the greatest journal one could ever keep.
I was a note passer in school, and am still known to pass my fair share of notes during Church even now (I know, it's bad). One of my most prized possessions is a little notebook I kept in my scriptures the first year Greg and I were married. At times, I would (being the bad influence I am) write back and forth with him during Sacrament meetings. I would write little love notes for him to find and read later in the book. I love going back and reading it. Captured in that book are some of my fondest, most personal memories of my first year of marriage. To me, written language is an unparalled asset. The ability to share and communicate through writing is nothing short of a gift of God. I love to write. I love to read. Greg's grandfather recently published an autobiography, and I personally think having a 90+ year old grandparent write and publish their own book is the coolest thing I've ever heard of. It makes me wish all of my grandparents were similarly motivated. My sweet husband caught onto my affection for the written word early, and is amazing about randomly sending me his love on a piece of paper (my personal favorite was when those love letters came on green engineering graph paper . . . it was somehow even more touching and personal when the very paper itself was a very visual reminder of the person I married.)
Every month I print out my blog. I add more personal notes, explanations and various 'in hindsight' kinda comments and print it, three hole punch it, and add it my family journal. Before blogging I kept a handwritten journal for my girls. A few times a week I would write and write and write until my hand hurt, catching up on all the amazing things I'd experienced as a mother in the prior few days. Now I can type, a time or two a day in a few minutes what used to take me much longer to hand write, and since I've made it more of a daily habit, I don't forget what exactly was said, or the little nuances that made the situation so funny. I have captured hundreds of little stories and quotes on my blog that would have otherwise been lost. In my mind, it's been worthwhile. And again, I just love to write. Even if I kept this blog completely private, not sharing it with anyone at all, I would still write. I haven't really delved into the realms of the deep nitty gritty on my blog, mainly sticking to the lighter fare of Annie-quotables, but the very act of writing, of recording my family's own history, is cathartic, rewarding and worthwhile in my own eyes. I have not wasted a single second.
(Edited to add: For me, the 'journaling' aspect of blogging is what makes it such an important use of my time. But, if I had a blog entirely about, say, underwater basket weaving, because that was my passion, that would also be worthwhile. I have a cousin who has her family blog, as well as a blog about natural birth practices. I think sharing her passion is probably an important emotional, mental and spiritual exercise that makes her a better, more well-balanced person and mother. Just wanted to qualify my statements, that just the act of writing about what is important, is worthwhile . . . not just if it is a journal of sorts. That make sense?)
Thursday, April 16, 2009
I'm Getting Old
I bought a minivan on the same day I left a hockey game early because I was worried about the babysitter (my Dad) staying out to late. When did I get this old? :-)
I turn thirty this year, but I really don't mind. I feel good. About my self. My life. Where we're at and where we're going. Thirty isn't so scary. It's kind of exciting. I'm a lot happier heading into my thirties than I was into my twenties.
But I was definitely feeling nostalgic (again) at the hockey game last night. I had a lot of fun, especially with the cheering (and cuddling) with my husband, just the two of us. It made me think back to when it was always just the two of us. And it reminded me of how much I love sporting events. It's funny how sports (such as hockey, and college football) actually define certain times in my life. I love the crowds, the excitement, the enthusiasm, the soundtrack of awesome songs really best heard in 20 second bursts (it fits perfectly with my music A.D.D. . . . I mean, seriously, who needs to hear more than 30 seconds of "Welcome to the Jungle"?) But it had me thinking back to a decade or so ago. I used to go to a lot of hockey games. Like nearly all of them. I loved hockey. I miss being an avid fan of something. Whether it was a few 'glory' years of the Jazz, a couple seasons of the Utes football team, or Grizzlies hockey of the late nineties, there have been times where I've devotedly followed a team. And you know, being a rabid fan is a lot more fun than being a casual fan. Knowing the players by name, who's the best at what, being able to cheer for someone beyond, "Good job goalie!" is a lot more satisfying when you know what's going on. I used to 'get' hockey. I knew the rules (mostly). I understood the game. I felt out of practice last night. Watching the puck fly from side to side, it felt almost random. I missed understanding the flow of the game, seeing the strategy, getting the purpose of certain plays. It made me long for something I don't have anymore. (Plus, they kept showing teasers for the Depeche Mode concert that's coming to the E-Center. Hockey and Depeche Mode make up a core of memories from my late teens/early twenties.) But seriously, there is no way my thirty year old self could allocate the kinda budget needed to be so devout to a sporting cause. When I was twenty, it was much easier. Now it's like, "Catch a game? Or pay for preschool?" Feeling out of touch with hockey, oddly enough, kinda made me feel old. That, and leaving a tied game going into overtime, because I knew my girls were terrorizing my poor Dad and wouldn't sleep well when not at home (or at all, since Annie was up past 10PM last night.)
Then there's the minivan thing. I am so excited to have bought a van. And that makes me feel kinda old. I remember back to the days when I was all, "Why in the world does a family with one or two kids need a minivan!? You need at four kids, minimum, before such a purchase is warranted!" Oh, how wrong naive twenty-something-year-old-Hilary was! A vehicle that allows us to not only haul all our own crap, but an additional THREE bodies is deserving of all kinds of awards and accolades. We had been saving since before Ellie was born, so that we would be able to buy a minivan before we had a third kid. We just got antsy, a third kid being at least a year away. And we'd gotten so close in our savings, and we found SUCH an amazing deal, that we just couldn't help it. Plus, heaven help the person who told Annie we weren't buying that van once she saw it!
So, I have to admit . . . I kinda feel oddly lame 'announcing' my minivan. Partly 'cause it's not the 'coolest' van on the block (you know, with as cool as minivans can be). I've had more than a few people, upon me excitedly telling them about our purchase suddenly interrupt in an almost horrified voice, "A Kia? You bought a Kia?" Then I feel dumb trying to 'justify' my purchase.
But, yep, we bought a Kia Sedona. And really, I couldn't be happier about it. I researched the heck outta this decision, and I am 100% convinced we got an absolutely amazing deal. (Not that I would turn down a Honda Odyssey . . . but sometimes a girl can only dream . . .) Although I was worried upon hearing some (many) bad reviews pre-2006, I've found nothing but good stuff about the newest batches of Sedonas. (Here I go with the justifying . . . ) What really convinced me (besides the amazing price, thousands and thousands less than all of the other 2008's we looked at), was the reviews I read on autotrader.com, Kelley Blue Book and Consumer Reports.
Here's my favorites:
"The 2008 Kia Sedona minivan is a consumer's best friend and a nightmare for rival manufacturers. In just a few short years, Kia has transformed the Sedona from a middle-of-the-road minivan into a first-rate people mover. "
"If you like saving money but won't sacrifice much to do so, you'll be excited to see just how well the lower-priced Sedona stacks up against the category's best." (And if this doesn't sum me up, I don't know what does.)
"With horsepower near the top of its class, a "Top Safety Pick" rating by the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety (IIHS), seating for seven and a 10-year/100,000-mile powertrain warranty, it's hard to argue with the Sedona. "
"Except for its vertical tail lamps, the Sedona doesn't carry itself much differently than a Toyota Sienna, which wouldn't be impossible to mistake for a Honda Odyssey. The Kia is also about the same size as those competitors, if not a little longer, taller and wider than both."
It doesn't have a lot of the 'bells and whistles' of some of the decked out newer minivans do, but it's safe, reliable and in awesome shape. I don't particularly care for the body style, but then again, almost none of the minivans are what I would think of as 'attractive' (I do like the look of the Nissan Quest the best though). And even Greg, Mr. I-think-we-should-get-a-crossover-because-I-don't-know-how-my-ego-will-handle-a-van, was completely sold as soon as he drove it. It's remarkably car-like, and it has SO much power, and is amazingly quiet. And it seemed all around to be a fantastic deal, so the bargain hunter in me was well satisfied.
And of course, Annie is beyond in love with it . . . she talks nonstop about how it has "Lots of rows! A middle row for Annie & Ellie, a front row for Mommy & Daddy, and a back row for Grandmas and Grandpas!" She keeps telling people how we paid for it so it's ours now and can come to live in our house.
I turn thirty this year, but I really don't mind. I feel good. About my self. My life. Where we're at and where we're going. Thirty isn't so scary. It's kind of exciting. I'm a lot happier heading into my thirties than I was into my twenties.
But I was definitely feeling nostalgic (again) at the hockey game last night. I had a lot of fun, especially with the cheering (and cuddling) with my husband, just the two of us. It made me think back to when it was always just the two of us. And it reminded me of how much I love sporting events. It's funny how sports (such as hockey, and college football) actually define certain times in my life. I love the crowds, the excitement, the enthusiasm, the soundtrack of awesome songs really best heard in 20 second bursts (it fits perfectly with my music A.D.D. . . . I mean, seriously, who needs to hear more than 30 seconds of "Welcome to the Jungle"?) But it had me thinking back to a decade or so ago. I used to go to a lot of hockey games. Like nearly all of them. I loved hockey. I miss being an avid fan of something. Whether it was a few 'glory' years of the Jazz, a couple seasons of the Utes football team, or Grizzlies hockey of the late nineties, there have been times where I've devotedly followed a team. And you know, being a rabid fan is a lot more fun than being a casual fan. Knowing the players by name, who's the best at what, being able to cheer for someone beyond, "Good job goalie!" is a lot more satisfying when you know what's going on. I used to 'get' hockey. I knew the rules (mostly). I understood the game. I felt out of practice last night. Watching the puck fly from side to side, it felt almost random. I missed understanding the flow of the game, seeing the strategy, getting the purpose of certain plays. It made me long for something I don't have anymore. (Plus, they kept showing teasers for the Depeche Mode concert that's coming to the E-Center. Hockey and Depeche Mode make up a core of memories from my late teens/early twenties.) But seriously, there is no way my thirty year old self could allocate the kinda budget needed to be so devout to a sporting cause. When I was twenty, it was much easier. Now it's like, "Catch a game? Or pay for preschool?" Feeling out of touch with hockey, oddly enough, kinda made me feel old. That, and leaving a tied game going into overtime, because I knew my girls were terrorizing my poor Dad and wouldn't sleep well when not at home (or at all, since Annie was up past 10PM last night.)
Then there's the minivan thing. I am so excited to have bought a van. And that makes me feel kinda old. I remember back to the days when I was all, "Why in the world does a family with one or two kids need a minivan!? You need at four kids, minimum, before such a purchase is warranted!" Oh, how wrong naive twenty-something-year-old-Hilary was! A vehicle that allows us to not only haul all our own crap, but an additional THREE bodies is deserving of all kinds of awards and accolades. We had been saving since before Ellie was born, so that we would be able to buy a minivan before we had a third kid. We just got antsy, a third kid being at least a year away. And we'd gotten so close in our savings, and we found SUCH an amazing deal, that we just couldn't help it. Plus, heaven help the person who told Annie we weren't buying that van once she saw it!
So, I have to admit . . . I kinda feel oddly lame 'announcing' my minivan. Partly 'cause it's not the 'coolest' van on the block (you know, with as cool as minivans can be). I've had more than a few people, upon me excitedly telling them about our purchase suddenly interrupt in an almost horrified voice, "A Kia? You bought a Kia?" Then I feel dumb trying to 'justify' my purchase.
But, yep, we bought a Kia Sedona. And really, I couldn't be happier about it. I researched the heck outta this decision, and I am 100% convinced we got an absolutely amazing deal. (Not that I would turn down a Honda Odyssey . . . but sometimes a girl can only dream . . .) Although I was worried upon hearing some (many) bad reviews pre-2006, I've found nothing but good stuff about the newest batches of Sedonas. (Here I go with the justifying . . . ) What really convinced me (besides the amazing price, thousands and thousands less than all of the other 2008's we looked at), was the reviews I read on autotrader.com, Kelley Blue Book and Consumer Reports.
Here's my favorites:
"The 2008 Kia Sedona minivan is a consumer's best friend and a nightmare for rival manufacturers. In just a few short years, Kia has transformed the Sedona from a middle-of-the-road minivan into a first-rate people mover. "
"If you like saving money but won't sacrifice much to do so, you'll be excited to see just how well the lower-priced Sedona stacks up against the category's best." (And if this doesn't sum me up, I don't know what does.)
"With horsepower near the top of its class, a "Top Safety Pick" rating by the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety (IIHS), seating for seven and a 10-year/100,000-mile powertrain warranty, it's hard to argue with the Sedona. "
"Except for its vertical tail lamps, the Sedona doesn't carry itself much differently than a Toyota Sienna, which wouldn't be impossible to mistake for a Honda Odyssey. The Kia is also about the same size as those competitors, if not a little longer, taller and wider than both."
It doesn't have a lot of the 'bells and whistles' of some of the decked out newer minivans do, but it's safe, reliable and in awesome shape. I don't particularly care for the body style, but then again, almost none of the minivans are what I would think of as 'attractive' (I do like the look of the Nissan Quest the best though). And even Greg, Mr. I-think-we-should-get-a-crossover-because-I-don't-know-how-my-ego-will-handle-a-van, was completely sold as soon as he drove it. It's remarkably car-like, and it has SO much power, and is amazingly quiet. And it seemed all around to be a fantastic deal, so the bargain hunter in me was well satisfied.
And of course, Annie is beyond in love with it . . . she talks nonstop about how it has "Lots of rows! A middle row for Annie & Ellie, a front row for Mommy & Daddy, and a back row for Grandmas and Grandpas!" She keeps telling people how we paid for it so it's ours now and can come to live in our house.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Good Day
We're leaving in an hour or so to go and buy a new minivan. I am so excited I can't even believe it. Who knew I would one day be so excited about owning a minivan? I sit here, just thinking, "All that cargo space . . ." and nearly start salivating. Annie has done nothing by talk about the new van ALL day today, "Mom, we will have THREE rows of seats . . . in the middle will be Ellie and me, you and Daddy can be in the front, and other people, like Grandmas and Grandpas, can go in the BACK row! That is SO exciting!"
As soon as we're done with all the paperwork, we'll drive our new van over to my parents house, to show it off and ditch the girls with them and Greg and I will take off for the hockey game. It's been awhile since I've gone to a game, especially with no kids in tow . . .
I'm pretty excited, a new vehicle with TONS more room than our current one, and a date to a hockey game with the hottest guy I know . . . it's gonna be a good day!
As soon as we're done with all the paperwork, we'll drive our new van over to my parents house, to show it off and ditch the girls with them and Greg and I will take off for the hockey game. It's been awhile since I've gone to a game, especially with no kids in tow . . .
I'm pretty excited, a new vehicle with TONS more room than our current one, and a date to a hockey game with the hottest guy I know . . . it's gonna be a good day!
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
"I Hate Our Old Car!"
So, we went out minivan shopping today (no decision yet on whether or not we're getting one), and Annie was hilarious the whole time. I think the dealership wanted to hire her.
"Oooooh! I LOVE it! It's beautiful!" was her first response to the van as we walked up to it. She promptly hopped inside and started to walk around the van like she owned the place, all the while making comments like, "Oh, I like it Mom," and "It is SO pretty!" She excitedly showed us, "This would be my seat, that would be Ellie's seat, and my friends can ride in back!" One of my favorites, "Ooooh! The seat folds up. That's amazing!"
We did the whole test drive thing. Annie made helpful, gushing comments the whole time. Upon returning to the dealership, she started to cry, "No! I hate our old car, I want the van! I LOVE the van! I don't like our old car!" She nearly threw herself to the ground and did the whole 'toddler tantrum' thing, but thankfully was able to reign herself in.
Well, that's one member of our household who's decided on the "do we or don't we" car buying question! The rest of us (i.e. those in control of purchasing decisions) are still up in the air.
It was pretty though.
"Oooooh! I LOVE it! It's beautiful!" was her first response to the van as we walked up to it. She promptly hopped inside and started to walk around the van like she owned the place, all the while making comments like, "Oh, I like it Mom," and "It is SO pretty!" She excitedly showed us, "This would be my seat, that would be Ellie's seat, and my friends can ride in back!" One of my favorites, "Ooooh! The seat folds up. That's amazing!"
We did the whole test drive thing. Annie made helpful, gushing comments the whole time. Upon returning to the dealership, she started to cry, "No! I hate our old car, I want the van! I LOVE the van! I don't like our old car!" She nearly threw herself to the ground and did the whole 'toddler tantrum' thing, but thankfully was able to reign herself in.
Well, that's one member of our household who's decided on the "do we or don't we" car buying question! The rest of us (i.e. those in control of purchasing decisions) are still up in the air.
It was pretty though.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Easter Weekend
Seriously, this was pretty much the funnest Easter weekend ever.
I love holidays. I love the festivity, the planning, the shopping, the get-togethers. I LOVE being surrounded by our families. I'm a huge fan of all things 'traditions'. I love the food, the company, the meaning behind it all. I love what holidays mean to my family, bringing us together, helping us to grow closer, and what so many of my favorite holidays mean to me personally and spiritually and that awesome power they have to make me stop and reflect on my life and realize how wonderful life truly is.
This Easter weekend was just about as perfect a holiday weekend I could have hoped for . . . I loved every minute of it. We spent time with so much family, enjoying meals and conversations and watching our girls play with the people we love the most.
I've already posted some pictures from Saturday, when our girls had a blast hunting eggs and playing with new Easter toys at Greg's parents house. So now it's time for Sunday's pictures . . . we went to my Aunt Judy's house for my Mom's family's annual Easter party. It's one of my favorite holiday gatherings of the year. Especially with the girls. (For a few years there, it was a tad lame, with all the grandchildren grown and a bunch of us twenty-somethings hunting for eggs in the backyard.) :-) My siblings are some of my very favorite people to hang out with, and this party was the epitome of why. We had violent soccer games, inside jokes, bantering, a chocolate fountain, competitive volleyball, painful hair removal, and a ton of people who love and adore my girls, all in one place.
Aunt Lacy and Ellie (with a very snotty nose)
Annie flying by Uncle-David-power.
My brother Cody flattening my sister Lacy in a 'friendly' game of soccer. Star claims that my husband Greg broke her toe in this same game.
Annie hunting for eggs.
Ellie and Daddy tracking down those tricky-hiding eggs (vs. the rest of Ellie's eggs, that were pretty much just laying out in the grass.)
Cody, just chillin'
Annie running . . . she ran more today than I think in the rest of her life combined! :-) She would run from one side of the yard to the other (and it's a huge yard), to bring people their eggs, or to come back to me to show me her loot.
Ellie, proudly displaying her latest find.
Star, 'striking a pose', or something.
My adorable family
Ellie had almost as much fun as Annie did. Ellie's eggs were filled with Cheerios, and she loved shaking them and hitting them together.
"I think I hear something in this one!"
How freakin' cute is this kid . . . this is while she was looking through her Easter presents from Grandma Karine.
It's not a family get-together until someone gets out the tweezers and Star shapes up all of our brows . . . (and this time she also did Lacy's leg hair. Ouch.)
This video should probably be titled: "Annie Excitedly Running."
I love holidays. I love the festivity, the planning, the shopping, the get-togethers. I LOVE being surrounded by our families. I'm a huge fan of all things 'traditions'. I love the food, the company, the meaning behind it all. I love what holidays mean to my family, bringing us together, helping us to grow closer, and what so many of my favorite holidays mean to me personally and spiritually and that awesome power they have to make me stop and reflect on my life and realize how wonderful life truly is.
This Easter weekend was just about as perfect a holiday weekend I could have hoped for . . . I loved every minute of it. We spent time with so much family, enjoying meals and conversations and watching our girls play with the people we love the most.
I've already posted some pictures from Saturday, when our girls had a blast hunting eggs and playing with new Easter toys at Greg's parents house. So now it's time for Sunday's pictures . . . we went to my Aunt Judy's house for my Mom's family's annual Easter party. It's one of my favorite holiday gatherings of the year. Especially with the girls. (For a few years there, it was a tad lame, with all the grandchildren grown and a bunch of us twenty-somethings hunting for eggs in the backyard.) :-) My siblings are some of my very favorite people to hang out with, and this party was the epitome of why. We had violent soccer games, inside jokes, bantering, a chocolate fountain, competitive volleyball, painful hair removal, and a ton of people who love and adore my girls, all in one place.
Uncle Cody & Annie up above the sandbox . . . sending Hot Wheels speeding to their death down the slide . . .
Aunt Lacy and Ellie (with a very snotty nose)
Annie flying by Uncle-David-power.
My brother Cody flattening my sister Lacy in a 'friendly' game of soccer. Star claims that my husband Greg broke her toe in this same game.
Annie hunting for eggs.
Ellie and Daddy tracking down those tricky-hiding eggs (vs. the rest of Ellie's eggs, that were pretty much just laying out in the grass.)
Cody, just chillin'
Annie running . . . she ran more today than I think in the rest of her life combined! :-) She would run from one side of the yard to the other (and it's a huge yard), to bring people their eggs, or to come back to me to show me her loot.
Ellie, proudly displaying her latest find.
Star, 'striking a pose', or something.
My adorable family
Ellie had almost as much fun as Annie did. Ellie's eggs were filled with Cheerios, and she loved shaking them and hitting them together.
"I think I hear something in this one!"
How freakin' cute is this kid . . . this is while she was looking through her Easter presents from Grandma Karine.
It's not a family get-together until someone gets out the tweezers and Star shapes up all of our brows . . . (and this time she also did Lacy's leg hair. Ouch.)
How cute are my sisters!? (Lacy's much cuter in person than she appears here.) :-)
Here is my family playing "Ninja." Have you played it? So much fun! Nothing better than an organized excuse to try and slap one another. (I think there's almost as much violence in our interactions now that we're adults than there was when we were kids . . . now it's just without the malice!)
Here is my family playing "Ninja." Have you played it? So much fun! Nothing better than an organized excuse to try and slap one another. (I think there's almost as much violence in our interactions now that we're adults than there was when we were kids . . . now it's just without the malice!)
This video should probably be titled: "Annie Excitedly Running."Hope everyone had a Happy Easter!!
Sunday, April 12, 2009
So Let it Be Written . . .
Sorry, the title was a little cheesy, I just watched too much of "The Ten Commandments" last night . . . anyway, during Church today while Annie was coloring, she decided to write her name. She's been writing A's for awhile now, but this was the first attempt at her whole name, and I was so excited when I saw what she'd done I used my phone to photograph it and text message it to a bunch of people. Soon after receiving a text from my sister, exclaiming, "That's so great! She's amazing! So, where exactly are you sending this from?" OK, so it was during Sacrament meeting. Oops. :-) I promise, I actually did listen to a bunch of Conference, and texting during Church isn't my normal modus operandi. Anyway, here's the masterpiece:
(I loved how she added the two little lines on top of the n's, and her e was ridiculously impressive to me . . . that was the letter she had the hardest time with, and she made me write one on another piece of paper first for her to 'study' before she attempted this one. Good job Annie!)
Here's some Easter pictures of the girls in their dresses before Church this morning:
(I loved how she added the two little lines on top of the n's, and her e was ridiculously impressive to me . . . that was the letter she had the hardest time with, and she made me write one on another piece of paper first for her to 'study' before she attempted this one. Good job Annie!)Here's some Easter pictures of the girls in their dresses before Church this morning:
Noisy Baby
I have yet to get video of Ellie actually growling at me . . . but here's an example of her vocal nature. (This was a few clips put together . . . it ends up being a couple minutes long . . . I really only expect people who share some kind of blood relationship with my kids, or have known me 10 years or better, to make it through the whole thing . . . she is adorable and talkative/laughing the whole time though, so I think it's worth it!)
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Easter Egg Hunt with Grandma & Grandpa
Earlier today we headed over to Greg's parents' house to participate in pretty-much-an-Annie-only-Easter-Egg-Hunt (since the rest of us were either adults, or Ellie . . . and the other eligible grandchild lives in Indiana and gets to do his Easter Egg hunt next week when Grandma goes to visit). We also had pizza and the girls were spoiled with some really cute Easter gifts.
Here's Annie with Aunt Andrea and Grandma . . . and Andrea's camera that makes me a little jealous.
Ellie drooling all over Greg's head
Annie finding eggs . . . my camera creating super vibrant colors, although I now have no idea what setting I'd had it on (it was pretty dreary outside, so my pictures weren't turning out all that well, so I kept randomly trying new settings to see what would happen.)
Mommy & Ellie
Uncle James and Ellie
Annie insisted we bring along her new tricycle to show off to Grandma and Grandpa. Annie can't quite reach the pedals consistently yet, so Grandpa K.C. had been pushing her around for awhile, when he realized he was exerting a lot of energy and probably tweaking his back by walking around that long while hunched over, so he rigged up this awesome bungee cord system, and Grandpa and Annie happily played in the driveway for awhile!
Ellie and Grandma Ruth
Grandpa found it was much easier to carry Annie and her bike over the grass, rather than pull them through it.
Here's Annie during the actual Easter Egg hunt . . . with a lot of 'subtle' hints from everyone, she actually found them all!
Ellie and Grandma Ruth
Grandpa found it was much easier to carry Annie and her bike over the grass, rather than pull them through it. 
Here's Annie during the actual Easter Egg hunt . . . with a lot of 'subtle' hints from everyone, she actually found them all!
Here's Annie with Aunt Andrea and Grandma . . . and Andrea's camera that makes me a little jealous.
Ellie drooling all over Greg's head
Annie finding eggs . . . my camera creating super vibrant colors, although I now have no idea what setting I'd had it on (it was pretty dreary outside, so my pictures weren't turning out all that well, so I kept randomly trying new settings to see what would happen.)
Mommy & Ellie
Uncle James and Ellie
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