Great Grandpa Ken

Last night we attended a party in honor of Greg's Grandpa Ken. I've had a huge soft spot in my heart for Grandpa ever since I met him, and have enjoyed talking to him and hearing his stories of raising his own family, years spent as an educator, and of the wife he misses so much. (Grandma June passed away before I married into the family, so I have yet to meet her.) I feel my family is incredibly blessed to be surrounded by numerous grandparents. My girls are able to enjoy NINE grandparents in their lives, all of whom live within an hour drive of us.

One of my very favorite pictures of Annie, is from when she fell asleep on Grandpa Ken's lap after a long Christmas morning when she was a year and a half old. Annie was always the worst sleeper, and would never fall asleep for me anywhere but in bed, so to see her look so peaceful and to just drift off in her great grandfather's arms was so touching.

It has been hard to watch Grandpa Ken age so rapidly this last couple years. But at 92 years old, he has lived a full life, complete with a family who adores him and history of heroic patriotism. He is a naval submarine veteran and last night, hospice put together a party in his honor and in honor of his service to this country. It was complete with family, friends, neighbors and veterans. An army chaplain came and said a few words, reminding us all of the sacrifice Grandpa Ken's generation made. That these young men in WWII went to war, to either win or die. There was no coming back, there were no terms to their service without either victory or death. He spoke specifically of a submariners life, the challenges and sacrifices, and the great work they did in the war. He read the Submariners Prayer, then blessed the occasion, Grandpa's remaining days, and the food. A young boy scout troop came and performed a flag ceremony for Grandpa and the guests. Annie participated in the Pledge of Allegiance, as she's been learning it at school, and it made me so proud. Fox 13 news was even there to film the event, and interview Grandpa and his sons. Grandpa was very emotional, suddenly crying often, and repeating how wonderful it was that everyone was there for him. I was able to take some four generation photos with him, as I've foolishly been putting it off. It was a wonderful evening to see family, to remember sacrifices made of those who came before, and to spend some time and create more memories for me and my girls while we still have Grandpa with us. Nobody knows how much longer Grandpa has on this earth, but I know when it is my time to go, I can only hope to have touched as many lives, to have left a mark, to have been loved by so many, and to have lived such a life that I can be so at peace with my Maker as to welcome the opportunity to be reunited with my family who has passed on before me and with God.

Here is Annie and I (with Greg and Ellie in the background) before the party started.

Ellie hanging on Greg, much like a monkey. :-)

Grandpa K.C. introduced the girls to cheetos. They are hooked for life. Ellie spent most of the party trying to get her little orange covered hands on more. He promised them there would be cheetos at his house on Sunday for Conference . . . Annie remembers that and has mentioned it twice already . . .

Here is Grandpa Ken and Grandpa K.C. being interviewed by Fox 13.

One of our four generation pictures that we took. It's amazing that there is more than a 90 year span here!
And the gold gym dividing wall (found in many older LDS Church buildings) is hard on the flash, and really threw off my color in a lot of the pictures, but I'm just glad we were able to get more current four generation shots!

At one point during the evening, Grandpa got to talk on the phone with his grandson Chris (Greg's brother who lives out of state with his family). I don't think Grandpa liked my small cell phone, as it was hard to hold and didn't feel right in his hand. He just had Greg hold it for him.

Ellie loved the cake.

I tried to convince Annie that if she was just going to pick it up to stick it on her fork, we could probably just skip the fork step altogether, but she's a stickler for manners. :-)

Ellie too. :-)

What you don't see here is Annie nearly in tears, as this was her piece of cake Ellie suddenly grabbed and shoved into her mouth.

There were a few veterans in attendance, and all came up to shake Grandpa's hand . . .

Greg and Ellie talking with Grandpa.
Annie with two of her Grandpas.
Grandpa with the boy scout troop that came and performed the flag ceremony.
After it was over, Grandpa K.C. got out the giant push broom to start cleaning up. The grandkids (and great-nephews, in Jimmy's case) were fascinated by this and were eager to 'help.' It slowed K.C. down a lot, he's so great with all the kids!

Grandma Ruth joined in (to lend a hand of support to Ellie, as she kept tripping while they were pushing), and we joked about sweeping becoming a 'five man job'. . . .

Not Quite the "Biggest Loser", but a Loser Nonetheless

Week one of our family "Biggest Loser" competition has come to an end.

Everyone lost weight (which makes me proud of my family, but a little concerned about the competition), including me. Which was actually kinda shocking to me, to find myself 1.8 lbs. less than last Wednesday, as my unstable hormones and moodiness the last week pretty much demanded at least one meal a day consist entirely of chocolate. Sometimes, with ice cream for dessert. Exercise was also kind of non-existent, as my mood was more of a 'lay in bed and wallow in self-pity' than 'go on a walk'. I made sure to eat breakfast though, preferably a high protein one. And I ate my fair share of fruits and veggies. My body, despite it's crankiness as of late, apparently decided to cut me a break and work with me on this one. And I still can't believe I lost nearly 2 lbs.

I'm excited to see what actual effort will produce this week though . . . cut out the M&Ms for lunch and I may drop another couple pounds!

Not everyone has reported in their exact weight to Lacy, keeper of the excel spreadsheet. But, I'm estimating I'm right about in the middle of the pack. Not quite the amazingness of Lacy's weight loss, but a loss nonetheless. I'm actually going into this next week very encouraged . . .

The "M" Word

So, miscarriage.

Why is it that it's so rarely talked about? It happens, a lot. Some estimates put it as high as one in every four pregnancies will end in miscarriage. Most women will experience at least one in their child bearing years, yet we hear so painfully little about it, or its effects on our lives. Why has it been relegated to silence, something rarely talked about, at least not openly or in polite company? Someone going through one may feel as if they are alone, yet when they timidly bring it up among other women they are almost instantly shared a dozen of stories of similar situations. If it is so common, why is it talked about so little?

It's personal, that's part of it; and can be quite tragic and painful for people. Some may see it as merely a road bump on the road of fertility, a set back. Some may even see it as a bittersweet blessing, ending a surprise or unwanted pregnancy. Some may be angry, feeling betrayed by a body that isn't supposed to spontaneously spit out a baby that they'd started making plans for. And all of these reactions are as valid as the next, but when you're going through it, your feelings (mixed with insane hormones) can make you feel a little isolated, alone in your thinking and feelings. And you start to think, "You know what'd be nice, if miscarriage wasn't treated like a four letter word . . . something I shouldn't say or talk about in front of others . . . "

A friend recently sent me an email that ended with this line, "Miscarriage has unfortunately become a big part of my life. But it's easier when you know that it happens to other people too." As with all things in life, I believe challenges, trials, disappointments and traumas are easier when the load is shared. When things can be talked about. When you know you're not alone.

When I found out I was pregnant four weeks ago, I was already starting to bleed fairly steadily, so the writing was on the wall. And yet, the very people I would have typically found myself calling to tell I was pregnant, I was debating whether to call them to let them know what was happening to me. Was I burdening them? Was it weird, morbid, sick or freakish to call someone just to let them know I was probably losing a baby. But I wanted to talk about it. My feelings were fairly conflicted. And I was shocked. (Both to be pregnant and to be miscarrying). I hadn't had time to 'get excited' about being pregnant, before a pretty sure realization I wasn't going to be pregnant much longer hit. I was just kinda, well, confused. It was an odd realization, that I was pregnant, and yet not for much longer, to be hit with all in the same moment. I hadn't been planning on getting pregnant yet, so that was a shock . . . and nobody ever plans for a miscarriage, so that was adding to my feelings of discombobulation. I told my husband, sisters (both blood and in-law ones), and parents without so much as shedding a single tear. Yet, a day later when I had to tell a neighbor that our meeting for our Super Saturday committee might need to be cut short 'cause I had to go to the doctor's, I started to cry. For the next week, I didn't absorb much of it (although, I did cut half my hair off -- remember that?) Then the next week, I accepted that this whole pregnancy thing really was over, and started to move on. I'd had one mini-breakdown in Greg's arms, ranting about my stupid body and its stupid inability to do one of its basic functions and just carry a baby without major complications, and about my guilt about never having 'gotten excited' about being pregnant (and not having really wanted to be pregnant that month, since it didn't work with our 'plan', or our supplemental insurance), and wondering if I was 'doing this right' (as if there's a way to go through a miscarriage 'right' -- but I constantly wondered if was I grieving or mourning like I was supposed to, 'cause much hadn't changed.) I felt guilty that I had gotten pregnant so easily, when I hadn't even wanted to, when I had friends having the opposite problems. I felt even guiltier that I had felt so little going through the miscarriage, as I have recently had more than one friend whose whole worlds have been turned upside down my repeated or late miscarriages. But all in all, by the end of that week, I was done. Ready to move on.

Then something happened. Still have no idea what exactly, but my best guess is the killer-miscarriage-hormones-of-death. Oh my goodness, how my world has been flipped upside down by these pesky hormones-of-craziness. I feel pregnant . . . sick, fatigued and so emotional and easy to upset. Stuff even smelled bad. And yet I'm not (trust me, I'm spending half our grocery money on pregnancy tests just to 'assure' myself that there really is no actual physical reason for my new found insanity, it's just all mental . . .) It has been like PMS times 10 or something. The only thing I want in this world right now is to feel like myself again, to not be riding this hormonal roller coaster anymore. I keep thinking, "Any day now, this has to end . . . this can't go on much longer . . . I am so sick of crying at stupid commercials and magazine articles!" I was fully and 100% unprepared for what miscarrying would do to my body, the horrific hormonal aftermath that has made me the short tempered, weepy Mom my girls still love but are completely baffled by.

So anyway. Long story short: I miscarried. It sucked. It will hopefully be the last time it happens, though there's no guarantees. I don't want to go through that again though. But I got off easy, not having seen ultrasounds and heard heartbeats and waited expectantly to get pregnant only to have all my hopes dashed . . . my pregnancy was as surprising as the miscarriage that shortly followed. But they've left their mark. And now I'm just ready to get back to living among the normal . . . for my body to be returned, unharmed; raging hormones a thing of the past.

And I think I'm getting there. Things feel better than they did yesterday. And yesterday felt better than the day before. I have not cried once today. Yay, me! :-)

And just so y'all know . . . I always found the 'don't tell anyone you're pregnant during early pregnancy' thing confusing. I don't know about you, but that was when I needed the most support and understanding from friends, family and coworkers. I didn't tell my bosses at work for a long time when I was pregnant with Annie, 'cause it was like you were just asking to miscarry if you announced something like that at work before 13 weeks. Sometimes I just wanted to be like, "Um, I promise I'm not a bad worker, or chronically ill, or anything else that should concern you about my aptitude or dedication . . . I just have to keep running to the bathroom every 30 minutes 'cause I'm convinced I'm gonna puke 'cause I'm in my freaking first trimester. Which makes me tired and nauseous. And grumpy." And yet, I stuck with that whole 'no major announcements' about my pregnancy 'rule' until I was 'safely in my second trimester (as far as work, Church and casual friends went). Basically, what I'm saying is, whenever I do get pregnant again, I'll probably be announcing here sometime around 5 or 6 weeks. I just can't keep quiet that long. Some may find that kinda tacky or against the unspoken 'pregnancy announcing' code, but frankly, I'd want to talk about it. I don't suffer in silence all that well, and morning sickness is suffering. And, if I somehow ended up miscarrying after that point in time, I'd be needing to do some serious writing therapy about that as well, so you'd end up hearing about it one way or another . . .

Edited to add: I can already hear someone I know, speaking in my head, "These young Mommy bloggers today! Nothing is sacred! They'll talk about anything on their blogs!" Yep, I went there . . . used the 'm' word. Then talked about my feelings about experiencing a miscarriage myself. And will announce my next pregnancy sometime before the second trimester mark. And I mentioned hormones, PMS and bleeding. "That Hilary -- raised in a barn." :-)

I Am a Domestic Goddess

So, yesterday I spent more than my fair share of time in the kitchen. But I'm fairly pleased with the results.

I canned tomatoes.

That would be my first experience with canning (other than creatively avoiding my Mom for days as she worked on canning her homemade salsa she made for years while I was still at home). It took a long time, and made a huge mess, and I believe would not have even been worth my effort had I not been given all the cans, lids, supplies and tomatoes for free. But I'm really pleased with the fact I now have a shelf of freshly picked tomatoes ready to go anytime I want to make homemade spaghetti sauce. I've had some really sweet neighbors who lately have kinda taken me under their wing (and given me free produce!) and started teaching me all manner of useful stuff. Canning tomatoes was my first solo attempt at these new found skills. And I didn't screw anything up, so I'm really pretty happy with the results.


I also made some semi-healthy brownies with Annie. (Not really healthy, but just healthier than normal).

Did you know that you could take a can of black beans, drain off most the liquid, top it off with water so the can is full again, blend it all until smooth in a blender, then dump the liquid into the brownie mix, stir it altogether and bake according to the package instructions.

I have finally found a use for beans in my kitchen! (They're not my favorite).

And they weren't funky at all, no recognizable bean taste. The texture is different, more cakey, I guess . . . but top a warm one with whipped cream or ice cream, and it was really pretty good. And more nutritious and packed with way more fiber than your typical brownies. It was kind of a fun new experiment, and I was pretty pleased with how it turned out.


And now here's some random pictures of my girls from this morning. Annie was playing up to the computer before breakfast, and Ellie decided to join her. This is usually fun for a minute, until Annie just ends up yelling at Ellie for standing up instead of sitting down, for touching the mouse/keyboard/screen or for taking up too much room on the oversized office chair. This morning though went much better than normal, and it was cute to watch them while they were getting along so well!


At one point, due to the fact that everything else on the computer table is off limits to poor Ellie, she started to play with a lint brush. I think the only thing that made sense to her was that it must be a hair brush. So, she sat there and 'brushed' her hair with it for the next several minutes.



When her big sister, aka 'the Enforcer', wasn't looking, Ellie snatched up some lotion and had this very mischievous "I'm getting away with something" face going on . . .

Super Cheap 11x14 Photos

OK, um, so to move past all the 'mopeyness' from my last post, I thought I'd share a really cool deal I found and ordered online today. A fantastic bargain being one of my natural highs (high, high, high) and all.

(Oh, and thanks to everyone who commented or emailed all the sweet and supportive things! I'm sorry that you all have to have bad days too, but it is nice to know I'm not alone :-) And I feel a little better today. My sister in law Liz is great, 'cause she lets me call and vent and whine for like hours at a time, even though she's running around after two toddlers herself. And then I feel better. I really think that given a little time, things'll be back to normal.)

So, anyway, a cool update from PYP today informed me I needed to checkout artscow.com. It's a photo printing place (think snapfish.com) and apparently they're running a special for four 11x14 prints for only $3.99. Including shipping. We just got our CDs with all our fantastic family photos recently, so it was easy for me to pick out to replace some older pictures framed around our house. I thought about getting some done for Christmas presents for people, but totally ended up finding four pictures I wanted printed all for myself. Bah humbug.

All the info and the code are over at PYP . . . if you were planning on getting any prints done any time soon, check it out. You can't really beat 11x14 sized prints for a buck a piece!

Not Much to Say

So, I haven't been in a 'blogging' kind of mood lately.

My kids have been really, really difficult lately, so I have completely missed anything fun, cute, sweet or funny that they've said or done. (Except, Ellie's been hugging me a lot. And I appreciate it.) I've just been hiding in the fetal position in the corner, ditching them with whomever shows even the slightest bit of interest in them. (At a barbecue last night surrounded by family, I pounced on anyone who looked our direction, "Ha! You made eye contact with Ellie, now you have to take her outside on a walk! Yeah, yeah, I know she's screaming bloody murder, I'm sure she'd love to go with you . . .") People'll always bring 'em back after a few minutes, but at least for a little bit nobody is screaming directly into my ear. I feel bad, because they're just getting to me. So much. And I think they're a little overly tired, adding some grumpiness to their typical attitudes. Ellie's gums are bulging with a bunch of teeth that'll hopefully cut through sooner or later. And Annie has just been so obstinent lately, and refuses to nap despite barely being able to keep her eyes open. But, I can't help but wonder how much of their 'difficult-ness' is more about me. It's me who's not holding it together. Who's not patient. Who could usually handle all of this just fine, but I just am not handling it right now. I'm stressed. I'm hormonal. I'm weepy. I'm tired. Oh, so tired. Does 'fatigue' sound more tired than just tired? If so, I'm fatigued. My body is sore and tired and crappy feeling. (And no, I'm not pregnant. Although, I'm not 100% sure my body knows that, 'cause it's acting awfully pregnant . . . oooh, maybe I'm having a hysterical pregnancy, just like the lady on "Glee"!)

There are moments I almost sink into a despair, thinking, "I cannot feel like this all the time, I can't function like a good Mom at this level," or "I can't do this day in and day out if this is how I feel." I know, I know, this is temporary. I don't feel like this all the time, and everything is temporary, and this will pass. My kids will find their sleeping patterns and get some more rest, it's just a time of adjustment (it's happened before and it'll happen again, and it always shakes out fine). Ellie'll finally get some teeth in and not be the world's most demanding, weepy baby in the world. Things with my new calling will smooth themselves out as I figure things out. People may even come to the activity I'm planning. Or not, but either way, there's only four more weeks of planning left, then it'll happen no matter how much I may or may not have screwed up the finances for it. Halloween will come, and that'll be fun. Greg's company will most likely not strike this week (at least, they better not.) I don't need to be stressing as much about money as I am, I just need to remind myself that things are fine, and I'm worrying more than I need to.

Annie just walked up to me and asked me why I'm crying. Then she crawled up into my lap, gave me a hug, then said she'd be right back after she got me a tissue. I hate that she saw me like this. I hate that I'm crying. I hate that I can't seem to keep it together right now. I just need this to be over. I just need to feel like myself again. I just want to feel better.

I just need a nap.

This too will pass.


Making me smile though, Annie is sitting across the room from me, drawing Ellie a 'map of the stars', explaining the big dipper to her little sister. Ellie seemed fairly disinterested, but Annie was so enthusiastic explaining the stars to Ellie, telling her all about how Daddy and Annie laid outside under the stars with blankets last night and looked at the night sky. Annie is just so happy about what she learned, and is just bursting to share it.

And Ellie said "Zebra" completely unprompted yesterday while pointing out a toy she wanted to her Dad, adding a very clear new word to her vocabulary.

Annie just offered to change Ellie's poopy diaper for me. That was sweet of her. :-)

And I really do know that things are going to be fine. I don't know why there's this 'funk' right now, but I do know that it's temporary. And that crying occassionally, or losing my cool, with my kids is not going to scar them for life. They still think I'm pretty much the most amazing person in the entire world. And that's pretty cool.

Where's Annie?

So, we were playing 'Hide and Go Seek' as a family at (well, past) bedtime last night. First Annie and I hid under a blanket (on the bed), and giggled the entire time Daddy and Ellie 'searched' for us. Then Annie insisted that Daddy leave the room and count to 10 while we hid again. She quickly tried to summon me back under the blanket (on the bed again) to hide, but I had a slightly better idea. I stuck her on the top of our 7 foot armoire and told her to curl up and duck down.
Greg came in and started looking for her. She, of course, couldn't help but giggle as he called her name, and I think he was a bit surprised when he turned around and looked up to see her hiding . . . especially since I'm the one who's usually getting after him for throwing the girls up to high in the air, and here I've left our 3 year old to fend for herself on our tallest piece of furniture. Annie thought it was hilarious, and Ellie just kept pointing emphatically up towards Annie in an attempt to point her out to their Dad.

Ellie, not quite sure why her Mom and Dad haven't figured out her sister's whereabouts yet and just rescued her already . . .

Annie curled up and hiding.

We found her! :-)

Then, just for good measure, here's a few more pictures. Just to document the rest of the evening -- 'cause the kids were being particularly cute (probably 'cause we'd gotten them all riled up by crazy games of hide and seek well after bedtime . . .)

Ellie has gotten into the habit of letting us know when it's time to pray . . . either at bedtime or when we put her in her high chair, she adorably folds her arms and smiles at the rest of us expectantly . . .

The adorableness of the cooperative praying one year old lasts for approximately 10 seconds or less though, then she's bored and on to a new activity. In this case, while the rest of the family was saying nightly prayers, Ellie was hoping off Greg's lap, crawling across my bed, and putting on a hat . . . which is exactly how we found her when we all said "Amen" and looked up again.

Annie found this hilarious, and immediately ran into her own room to grab another hat, so they could be twins.

Annie-ism

Upon seeing a huge flock of birds of some kind out in a field, Annie let out an excited squeal and said, "Holy my goodness, that is like a ton of birds or more!"

Pillow Talk

Annie had dance yesterday, and has since been walking around singing something that closely resembles the following tap song:

"Ellie the elf, sitting on a shelf, full of mischief as she can be.
Ellie the elf, all by herself, plays tricks they blame on me.
She takes scissors and cuts my curls, then she breaks poor Mommy's pearls.
When my Daddy dear tries to nap, takes my shoes and makes a tap, tap, tap . . ."

It's all very cute, and Annie thinks it is sooooo funny that the elf is named after her little sister. She is now referring to Ellie as an elf on occasion. Then laughing about it for like two minutes.

Anyway, last night Greg and I were getting ready for bed, and the song was totally stuck in my head. I started by humming it, but then I actually started singing the parts I could remember. At one point Greg (probably in an effort to get me to stop singing children's songs in bed) observed, "That's one evil elf, interrupting Daddy's nap."
"Um, in case you didn't notice, she also cut off all of Annie's curls and broke my pearls! I think tap dancing through Dad's nap is a fairly slight infraction . . ." I said. Plus, it's not like Dads can't sleep right through that . . . Greg can sleep in the middle of the day with both girls crying, crawling all over him, and screaming his name . . . and yet I can't have the TV on when he's ready to go to bed at night 'cause it 'keeps him awake.' Anyway, off topic.
Greg argued, "No way, messing with Dad's nap is by far the worst offense."
"Then cutting hair and breaking expensive jewelry? Whatever," I said, "either way, I think it's kind of the point of the song. This is obviously an evil goblin type creature, bent on destruction; not one of those sweet cookie making kind of elves."
"Ah, so like a Keebler elf."
"I have no particular elfen brand loyalty, I just like cookies. And any elf that makes me cookies is OK with me. There's no need to be a elf snob, Greg," I said mildly condescendingly.
And then my mind was stuck on cookies. I totally think I dreamed about cookie making elves last night, but the details are fuzzy by the light of day. (I also had another dream where I pinned my sister Star to the couch with my knee to her chest and told her that if she ever did that again, I would kill her. I don't know what happened that pissed me off so much, but I was fairly angry in my dream. Um, yeah. It was weird. Hi Star!!) So, last night I thought about asking Greg to go to the store to buy a package of the mint grasshopper cookies that the good tiny folks at Keebler make so well. (Even if the sanitary conditions inside a tree are questionable.) But between it being 11:30 at night, and having that stupid "Biggest Loser" competition going, he was off the hook. This time.

Forts, Static Electricty, and ANOTHER Fat Lip

Annie and Ellie built a giant blanket fort on and around my office chair. My favorite part by far was every time Annie would pop out to see me, her hair would be sticking up in each and every direction!

What surprised me though is how much Ellie's hair stuck up all over the place!
Her hair has JUST gotten long enough to need to be tamed now . . . I have to wet it and smooth it down now (I use a tongue brush, is that odd?) My little girl is getting so big! At this rate we may even be able to pull it back into impossibly small ponytails when she's two!

Today on the slide Ellie biffed it and fell onto her face, her little tooth cutting into her lip.
She developed her second fat lip in three weeks (albeit a teeny tiny small one, that barely showed up in photographs, which is too bad).
If you look (really closely), her lip on top, on the left side, is a little puffier than the other side.

Here she is showing off her adorable near-toothless grin . . . she has her two bottom middle teeth, and then the two to the side on top . . . what's funny is that she'll throw off her whole bite, keeping her bottom jaw cocked to the side, to 'line up' her teeth. I hope her other teeth come in soon so she doesn't throw off her bite permanently! :-)

Playing peekaboo with me.

Annie huffing a candle.
It was pumpkin spice, I can't blame her.

The Heat is On

My family has just instituted a new "Biggest Loser" contest.*

Weigh-ins: Wednesday mornings**

The Prize: Winner is excused from helping with dishes on Thanksgiving.

Bring it, baby. That is all the motivation I need.


*Due mainly to the fact that many of us have many of those same pounds to lose again. Oops.

** 'Cause there was much whining last time with it being on Monday mornings, right after the weekends, which are fundamentally harder on diets and therefore were discouraging for some of our weekend warriors. Also, we wanted the contest to end the day before Thanksgiving, so we could all guiltlessly gorge ourselves on carbs, as is the tradition and all.

Brrrrr Baby It's Cold Out There

(Unrelated, but my family will find that title amusing, nobody else will understand the reference, but that's cool).

Anyway, we went on a walk this evening. And froze our butts off. I love this weather, what with jackets, sweaters and all that. But when you pile the kids into the wagon, bundled in blankets that they won't keep on, wearing just tee shirts and pants underneath, it's not long before you have two frozen daughter-cicles! My kids were nice shades of red and purple by the time we got back, but neither way happy about being home, as both would have rather froze and played than be warm and in bed.

The one distraction from the cold on the way home was counting, (we would count and clap, it got blood circulating, and took our minds of the bitter winds.) And counting happens to be one of Annie's favorite past times. This Sunday she started counting everyone in Church until she was suddenly like, "You know Mom, it's just a lot of people." And although this will be interesting to pretty much nobody but myself, and I'm including it merely for journaling purposes, I decided now was a good a time as any to jot down Annie's version of counting.
OK, so here's how it goes:
Annie: "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 18 . . ."
I interrupt with, "Seventeen." Annie tends to refuse to acknowledge 17's existence, but I have heard her slip it in on accident a time or two now, which is promising.
"17, 18, 19, 20, 22, 23"
She also apparently has issues with 21, as it gets left out almost as often as 17. "Twenty-one, Annie."
"21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, twenty-seventeen, twenty-eighteen, twenty-nineteen . . ."
"Annie, it's just 26, 27, 28 . . ."
"Oh, 28, 29 . . ." Then, half the time it's "Thirty," and the other half it is "Twenty-ten."
Then from there we can pretty easily make it to forty, except she does sometimes slip into the 'teens' again in the high 40s, but for the most part, once we clear 30, we're good 'til about 50. Then she usually gets bored.

Crybaby

So . . . I had a complete and total emotional meltdown at Church today. It was, um, impressive . . . sobbing uncontrollably, mascara streaming, eyes blotchy and red for a good half hour afterwards. And it wasn't a "I'm so overwhelmed with spiritual feelings" cry fest, but an "I've reached the end of my rope after a really long, stressful week, and something finally tipped me over the edge, causing me to make a tears-streaming exit from the Relief Society room, hiding my face by burying it into my 16 month old's body, diving into the nearest 'empty' room to get control of myself, only to find women in there actually nursing their babies, surprised by the sudden appearance of a weeping, blotchy faced stranger. It was all very classy, let me tell you.

The plus side of my public humiliation . . . when I came home an hour or so later (I had a meeting that kept me at Church a little later), my husband felt so bad for his hysterical wife, that he'd totally done all the dishes. It was almost worth it!

I actually feel a lot better after crying, I'm less stressed and I've calmed down. But in the future, I'm shooting for my cathartic crying spells to hit in places a little less public. Although, I don't know if non-public-meltdowns warrant the dishes being done for me . . . that may be something to consider . . .

(Edited to add: Greg further proved his amazingness by taking the kids to his parents house for Sunday dinner while I stayed home and laid in one spot. Without moving. Before he left, I informed him, "I am not moving from this spot," while laying in our bed. He laughed and said, "Yeah, right, the laundry will be done and the bedroom will be clean . . ." Well, three and a half hours later, I woke up in that exact same spot and called to let him know I was just waking up and had not yet moved. He was very impressed, as I am usually the worst napper in the entire world (wonder where my kids get it from!). And now he's on his way home with my children, and I am typing this blog post addendum, then getting started on some folding on the laundry. There will not be time to get the bedroom clean, but it turned out we were both kind of right.)

Jesus Said I Could

I recently bought Annie a bag of beads and some hemp thread to make necklaces. It's brilliant, 'cause she can literally string beads for hours and be completely occupied. It's less brilliant 'cause beads are little and get everywhere and take me hours to clean up. (Well, they would take hours to clean up if I didn't just vacuum up all the little stragglers and throw them out.)

Today though, I had carefully picked up as many as I could find and put them back into the bucket we keep them in after she'd finished playing with them. Or so I thought. Not 20 minutes later, Annie had poured them all out again on the bed, and was laughing about the ones that had rolled off the bed and onto the floor. A tad annoyed, I sighed and said, "Annie, why do you have to make such messes? I just cleaned that up . . . "
Ignoring me, she continues playing. But I hear her mutter under her breath, "Jesus loves when I make messes. Jesus loves to make messes too." Um, I don't know how to argue with that one with a three year old. I just told her that Jesus likes to clean up His own messes when He's done.

~~

Unrelated to the divinely sanctioned trashing of Mom's room, Annie's been singing all day. This isn't unusual. She likes to narrate her life through song. As she walks through the kitchen there's ballads about the messy floor or Ellie's high chair. When she's in her room, she sings sweetly to her baby dolls. And you can often hear her in the bathroom loudly belting out something along the lines of, "I am going potty! I am such a big girl! I can use the potty, but Ellie can't, 'cause she's little and uses diapers and I'm big and wear panties!" But I caught one little song that made me laugh, and I typed it up before I forgot it.
To the tune of "I've been working on the railroad":
"I'm the lea-der of our house! The leader of our house! I'm the lea-der of hou-ouse, just because I'm Annie!"

Ring Around the Rosies

Nothing makes me happier than watching my two little girls play like the best of friends. (Well, that and individual slices of carrot cake with lots of cream cheese frosting and nuts and raisins purchased at the Reams out in Magna). And since Ellie's new favorite thing to do is drag any willing participant into endless rounds of Ring Around the Rosies with her, there's been a lot of sisterly bonding time as of late. Last Saturday morning, our whole little family of four did nothing but play Ring Around the Rosies in the frontroom for 40 minutes after breakfast, long after Greg and I were dizzy and immensely sick of the song. But, it made her so happy to have the whole family playing, we just couldn't stop. As soon as one round ended, she'd quickly grab our fingers with her little hands to drag us back up into an upright position so we could start the game all over again. A week or so ago, I even got roped into playing this with her for 15 minutes in the doctor's office waiting room while I was waiting to get some blood work done. And not the pediatrician's office, my doctor's office. People would either smile over at me and nod, or kind of avoid looking at this grown woman falling on the floor every 30 seconds, being dragged around by a little 18 lb. runt who would not let the game end, while silently chuckling to themselves.

Anyway, back to my original point. The girls play Ring Around the Rosies a lot, and it's adorable. Ellie is always the instigator, and will forcefully drag you out into the middle of the room to play with her. I shot some video of them.

Carseat Driver

OK, this is completely evil, and probably makes me a bad wife, but an exchange between Annie and Greg last night is still making me chuckle.

To preface, poor Greg is married to a bit of a backseat driver. Somehow he managed to survive to 25 years without me in the car, but I'm only imagining that without my careful and nagging tutelage in the art of driving, he'd have probably killed himself and many others by now. Fortunately, I am there to tell him that his lights aren't on, his turn signal wasn't blinking, that we check blindspots when driving my van, that he should have merged over like five minutes ago, that his children are in this car, that children run on these streets, that the speed limit is 35, and that we should just let that person over already before they angrily plow into us. He isn't outwardly that appreciative of my help, but I'm sure deep down he's really grateful I'm there for him. (This is where Greg'll point out he's never once been in an accident, and I've been in three (NONE were my fault!), but that is beside the point. He also likes to mention how he drove through the aggressive streets of Mexico for two years and survived that just fine. Even without me. The fact that he is probably a better, more experienced driver than me is also beside the point.)

Greg takes this all in stride, rolling his eyes on occasion, but never actually kicking me out of the car and leaving me on the street corner to be picked up by my parents later on, as he would probably be justified in doing.

But I couldn't help but laugh when last night we were leaving the store in the evening, right as the sun was starting to go down ande hadn't gone more than a few blocks, when from the backseat, Annie pipes up in her best 'teacher' voice (you know the one, right? I couldn't think of how else to describe it, as it wasn't quite condescending, but almost . . . anyway . . . ), "Daddy. Do you need to turn your lights on?"

I laughed for several minutes. And I bet Greg was thinking to himself, "Oh great, now I have two of them." There's just days I bet he looks at all the girls in his life and thinks, "I'm surrounded." But what would he do without us? (Well, besides drive in the dark with no lights on.)

We're there for you hon!

Playing Mommy

Annie tied Ellie's booster seat from the kitchen table onto the back of her scooter, rigging up a kind of 'car seat' for her babies to trail behind her on her jaunts across the kitchen and front room. She came up to me, pointed to her 'carseat' and proudly said, "Mom, I have a child and her name is Aurora," then adding in a conspiratorial whisper, "actually, it's totally a Barbie doll of Princess Aurora, but I'm saying it's my child." Then she nodded at me knowingly, and took off across the room again on her scooter, her 'child Aurora' in tow.

Sugar High

Most people who know me well know that I obsess a little about my kids eating habits. Having battled with my sluggishly slow metabolism most of my life, it was imperative to me that my kids learn how to eat well from a young age, (including junk food in moderation, as I had no intention of cutting it out completely from our lives), all the while trying not to make a big deal out of it, or put an unhealthy amount of focus on foods. And for the most part, we do well with this. Lots of whole grains, tons of veggies and fruit, healthy proteins. Annie will even eat raw onions and peppers for snacks. But, of course, these kids also inherited my sweet tooth. Which means there are some mornings when I leave the room for a minute, and my kids find and sneak into my hidden M&M stash, and Ellie drools chocolate all over half my bed.
I find such incidents are a good reminder that it's time to wash all the bedding again.





Then Annie wanted in on the picture taking, so she started striking random poses and making faces.

(She's shoving a Starburst in her mouth with one hand . . . which was also in the candy stash, and probably left over from Easter, so it may have been a little hard . . . and has M&Ms in the other.)

More Family Portraits from Wheeler Farm

Sorry, more pictures.

I posted awhile back with some of the preview pictures from our photo shoot with Megan at Lindsay Jane Photography. Well, now I have the whole CD, and am posting more pictures than possibly anyone but my sisters want to see, but I like 'em saved on blogger as a backup in case my computer crashes and dies, along with my backup hard drive, so here's a bunch more pictures.
(And sorry if I posted some of these before, but now I have the full size files, and wanted to get those up and saved before I forget about 'em!)

Enjoy the adorableness that is my kids, nephews and family!