Heissatopia

Un-news

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 05:58:00 +0000

Back in November, Andrew had his in-person interview for the PMF. They told us they'd let us know by January 24th. At first I wasn't sure how we'd survive until then because waiting is akin to torture. However, with Thanksgiving and Christmas and the New Year (a little something I like to call 'the holidays' so am in no way offended when people wish me 'Happy Holidays,' just as a side note) we were carried quickly through the rest of November and on through December. By the time January rolled around I had so entirely pushed the idea of the PMF out of my mind that it didn't even bother me. At least not much.

I still had that date in the back of my mind, but only in the back.

We were quite surprised, then, when Andrew got an email last Monday telling him that he was one of 628 finalists to have been selected from a pool of 9,100 applicants. Monday was the 23rd—that's a day early!

In reality he got it late at night on the 23rd so I think it was technically the 24th in DC.

Still. For us? It was a day early.

If we decide to go that route he has a year (from January 24th) to find a position. But we don't know if we want to go that route, necessarily. We're still waiting to hear back from grad schools. But this morning we got another exciting email, this time from Duke University. They wanted to have a phone interview with him...today. So at noon, he sought solace behind some dumpsters outside the Tanner building (because he had booked a study room but when he got there it was locked and he didn't have time to hunt down the keys) and interviewed with Duke University. He said they sounded very interested in how he wanted to mix his research in Middle East Studies with research in Public Administration—he had to describe twice what his research focus would be, once as if he was talking to MES people and once as if he was talking to public policy people. They will be making decisions in the next couple of weeks.

Truthfully, we weren't sure we'd hear anything positive back from Duke. Andrew had emailed a couple of professors over there and neither of them had written back to him. Everywhere else he applied the people he contacted returned his emails with advice or encouragement or what have you, but from Duke we got nothing back. We still finished applying even though we thought it was a bit of a long shot.

And, lo, they are the first school to contact us with a bit of cheery news. Even if it is simply to say that they haven't made any decisions yet but are certainly interested in Andrew's research. That's not a no...which is all we got last time.

We're still waiting to hear anything from the University of Indiana, Bloomington; Ann Arbor, Michigan; and the American University in DC.

It's been an exciting couple of weeks for us, filled with un-news: Andrew's a PMF finalist, which is kind of a big deal, but he still has to try to secure a position; and Andrew interviewed with Duke University, but they still have yet to make an admissions decision.

It feels good to know that people at least are thinking about wanting us...it feels much better than flat out rejection.

Harry Potter

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 03:36:00 +0000

Somehow tomorrow is February. I'm not really quite sure how that happened.

We finished reading Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's [The Philosopher's] Stone this evening. While we were reading, Miriam fished the Mr. Potato glasses out of the toy box and said, "Look at me! I'm Harry Potter! Me has Harry Potter glasses!"

Then, because their favourite character in the story is Hermione, the girls had to show me their Hermione faces:

Rachel begged and begged to start Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets but I told her we had to wait until tomorrow. I feel like I spent half the day reading to her. I read two Dr. Seuss books to her (which Grandma keeps in her bedroom, apparently so that when the girls get tired of jumping on her bed they have something else to do so they don't get bored—Rachel told me so) which took like half an hour (because Dr. Seuss was rather prolific in his poetry). Then we had to do some library books. And some short stories from our own collection of books. And Harry Potter.

Besides reading we did a bit of lounging on the couch—we're still recovering from being sick—and watching television. Rachel stayed true to her word and stayed in bed (my bed) with her eyes closed, not talking...until she was sure that I had fallen asleep and then sneaked off downstairs to beg Grandma to put some cartoons on for her.

That sneaky Rach!

Grandma made her lie down to watch cartoons, though, so she was still resting...I suppose.

Andrew's promised Rachel that she can watch the second Harry Potter movie after we finish The Chamber of Secrets. Both sets of our parents feel that they're equally scary.

In the first movie you have trolls, Snape, Wizard Chess, Devil's Snare, unicorn blood, Fluffy, and a man with a face on the back of his head.

In the second movie you have gigantic spiders, blood, petrification, a giant snake...and I can't remember what all else.

I don't know. It seems to me like the second movie is a little bit scarier than the first (where everything scary happens at the end, really, in a big rush and the rest of it is rather tame). I suppose we'll see how she does as we're reading the story. She's a pretty active listener so chances are if something scares her she'll let me know about it...

In sickness and in...more sickness

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 06:26:00 +0000

We had another sick day at our house today and are planning on having another one tomorrow. Rachel's cough has gotten progressively worse over the last few days instead of getting better. She also developed a rash today...on her face and arms and legs and back and stomach...but not like fifth's disease...and not like scarlet fever...and not like chicken pox... I don't know what it is.

Miriam's still coughing as well.

And they're both getting fevers off and on.

They were both incredibly grumpy today. Miriam's sad and she doesn't know why but I think it's because she's sick but keeps trying to act like she's not because she's been sick for so long and just wants to be better. The other night she was up crying and I said, "Why are you crying, baby?"

"'Cuz I'm really, really sad," she sniffed.

"And why are you really, really sad?" I asked.

"'Cuz I'm crying," she told me.

Both of them had multiple fits today and although Miriam took a nap Rachel refused to even though she, too, really could have used one.

For lunch we had soup. Rachel wanted tomato soup (as always) and Miriam didn't (as always) so I brought up tomato soup and what my girls like to call "Tangled Hair Soup." Ordinary people might call it Ramen or Oriental Noodles or Ichiban, but those people are boring and unimaginative because clearly it isn't noodles at all but Rapunzel's hair turned into soup. Miriam didn't see the package of Tangled Hair Soup, though, and only noticed the can of tomato soup.

"What?!" she said angrily. "Not do I like tomato soup!"

"I know," I said, flashing the package of noodles, "I also brought some Tangled Hair Soup for you. I'll make them separately."

Miriam looked at me suspiciously.

"What's separate?" she asked.

"It means not together," I told her.

"Oh! Hey, Rachie—Mommy's making separate soup! We're going to have separate soup! She's making it separately!"

She was so excited she even did a "separate soup" dance, right on the spot. We enjoyed our soup (which I laced heavily with garlic) but wanted a little more for lunch. We've been eating a lot of grapefruit recently and the last one was sitting on the counter and, as Grandpa would say, it was lonely, so I suggested to the girls that we share it because grapefruit is full of good vitamins that help people get better when they're sick.

"Not is a grapefruit a vitamin," said Miriam.

"No, but they have vitamins in them!"

"How do they make vitamins then?" Rachel asked. She sat and thought about that for a moment and then said, "You know, I think they probably must take the grapefruit and squish it down really well and then carve a dinosaur out of it and that's how we get vitamins."

"I don't think it works quite like that," I said. "But I do know that there are vitamins in grapefruit that will help you get better so let's eat it!"

The girls were totally on board. They're actually usually on board for eating grapefruit, but only in moderation. Miriam's limit is about three pieces (when you cut the grapefruit in half and then spoon out the segments—so three half segments) and Rachel's limit, while higher than three, is still a limit.

"It's too spicy," they say after a while.

I'm just impressed they'll eat it at all because when I was little I remember thinking grapefruit was basically poison and couldn't imagine how anyone could eat it—it's too spicy! I love grapefruit now though.

"Maybe we could have an apple," Rachel suggested. "Do apples have vitamins in them?"

"They do," I said. "In fact, there's a saying that goes: An apple a day keeps the doctor away."

Rachel washed the apple and then I sliced it. Every time Rachel took a piece she'd say, "May I have another vitamin?"

Miriam, on the other hand, was rather intrigued by the idea of apples keeping doctors away.

"Do apples keep nurses away, too?" she asked. "'Cuz nurses give shots. Not do I like nurses."

I told her that apples keep both doctors and nurses away. She helped herself to another piece of apple.

After lunch came nap time for me and Miriam. Rachel watched television. That child refuses to nap...but at least she was resting, right? Grandma kept her busy with The Berenstain Bears and who knows what all until Miriam and I woke up and then because Rachel was looking like death and Miriam was groggy and feverish we sat and watched a few short shows.

Eventually we had to start making dinner and continuing laundry and doing normal household things like that. We had some BYU kids coming over for dinner—but just a few—so we added a leaf to the table and brought up the girls' princess table set that Auntie Sarah gave them for Christmas. I'm not even sure quite what brought it on (well, Grandpa had just been chasing the girls around the house but he claims that's irrelevant) but Rachel was about to sit down on her chair when she was struck with a tremendous coughing fit.

If you can't guess what happened next then I'm afraid you don't know Rachel very well—she's like the Old Faithful of upchucking.

Yes, she vomited.

All over her princess table, all over the floor.

I was doing the dishes.

"ANDREW!" I yelled.

I rarely yell or use his name so when I yell and use his name he knows to come quickly. He steered Rachel, dripping with vomit, into the bathroom, stripped her down and plopped her in the tub (where she threw up twice more in rapid succession).

Meanwhile, Karen corralled Miriam (I think) and Reid grabbed some towels, disinfectant wipes, and the mop. I wiped up the majority of the throw up and quickly ran down to the washer before I lost my stomach contents myself, Reid mopped and helped clean off the table, Andrew bathed the girls and deposited Rachel's clothes in the washing machine, Karen kept Miriam from having fits and still managed to keep dinner on schedule. Can I just say how wonderful it is to live in a house with four adults? If I had had to do all those things at once I think I would have pulled out my hair.

I'm just glad it happened on a Monday (when both Andrew and Reid were home) instead of a Wednesday (when they'd both not be home)!

The dinner ended up going smoothly in spite of all the chaos that went on minutes (okay, like a half hour) before the "big kids" were due to arrive.

What's funny is that the girls were determined to have a pyjama day today but I told them they had to get dressed because we had company coming over, so reluctantly they got dressed. But after Andrew gave them their bath he put them in pyjamas so when the "big kids" got here the girls were back in the exact thing I asked them not to be in! Not that it's that big of a deal. I just thought it was funny.

Rachel will not be going to school tomorrow but we made her promise that she'd have rest time while lying down with her eyes closed without talking or moving... We told her that she didn't have to sleep if she didn't want to, but that if she did sleep that it would be okay because our bodies heal themselves when we're asleep which is why it's perfectly alright to take a nap when you're sick when ordinarily you'd be much too mature and grown up for such a babyish thing as napping.

Here's hoping tomorrow involves lots of resting and very little vomiting...

Sew much work

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 05:44:00 +0000

Rachel has been making Valentines like crazy. There are seven of them sitting on my desk—little cards that she folded, and then drew skiwampus (but beautiful) hearts and carefully penned the names of her little friends onto. Today we made a special card for Grandma—and our plan was to add it to the pile on my desk, but Rachel was so proud of it (and Grandma was so available) that Rachel delivered it today.

Inside it says, "You tug at my heart strings!"

Rachel sewed the heart herself even though, in her words, "sewing's not really [her] thing."

She has those little sewing toys—you know, the cards with the holes punched in them that come with shoelaces so that you can practice "sewing?" They frustrate her to no end. She ends up going all over the place and creating huge knots instead of making a nice "seam."

Today I told her that sewing takes a lot of patience and concentration—it's not something you can just do. You actually have to focus.

Once I'd clarified that Hermione Granger enjoyed sewing (elf hats...) Rachel decided she'd give it a try.

We printed off a template and I poked the holes for Rachel and sat her down with a blunt-ended tapestry needle and some embroidery thread and set her to work. It took a while for her to get the pattern down (up and down, up and down, front and back, front and back) and she kept wanting to skip holes when the only rule of making the heart was that she had to choose a spot that was "next door" to the hole she just came through. By the time she was finished with the heart she seemed to actually be getting it.

When she finished, though, and I asked her if she wanted to make another one she said, "Not today. I'm just feeling a little sick is all. I don't really feel like doing a lot of work today and sewing is kind of like working so I think I'll just take a rest."

She won't be going to school tomorrow so perhaps I'll see if she'd like to make another card tomorrow. She needs something to keep her occupied...

British Drama

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 04:24:00 +0000

Sometimes family history work can be rather confusing. For example, I am a descendent of Charles Layton. The Layton line is well documented and goes back for generation upon generation—the problem is that Charles, at least biologically speaking, shouldn't hold the surname Layton. His mother, Bathsheba Layton, was an unwed mother—she was engaged to a sailor by the name of William Martin, who disappeared before the birth of the baby. Some sources presume he died at sea while Bathsheba was expecting Charles (1810-1831). Other sources say he lived to be a ripe old age (1810-1884).

It's somewhat of a mystery to me.

I suppose it doesn't really matter if he ran away from his responsibilities or if he died an untimely death. Either way, he wasn't in the picture by the time Charles came along.

Bathsheba later married Nathaniel Denton (sometime in the 1830s, according to my family tree on family search).

Charles, meanwhile, it seems was raised by his uncle Christopher, who was the founder of Layton, Utah.

I'm not clear when his uncle adopted him, but he's known on several records (and in most family stories that I've heard) as his "adopted child." Christopher joined the church and went to America and later Charles joined him—I found one account of his conversion story here although I think I would like to find a more detailed history of his life, if one exists. I frankly don't know.

Charles and Bathsheba were both sealed to Nathaniel Denton, though on family search, this wasn't completed until 1933 (Charles died in 1901—any parental figure he had died before him so this work was obviously done vicariously...and in Cardston, no less...one of Charles' sons, Samuel, immigrated to Canada and settled in Alberta. I descend from Timothy, who stayed in Utah. Irony would have it that my dad later moved to Alberta where we were good friends with the Laytons who descended from Samuel).

On my family tree, it lists Nathaniel Denton as Charles' father. However, if Charles was born of William Martin and raised by Christopher Layton, I fail to see why this should be. But I can't exactly add William Martin as a husband for Bathsheba because they were never married...and I'm not sure at all how to list adopted parents...but Nathaniel Denton was an adoptive father to Charles at any rate.

So I don't know what to do and I'm terrible at finding documents, though I have found Charles' name on the passenger lists of a couple of ships sailing from Liverpool to New Orleans as well as on a few surveys and things. He's relatively easy to find, actually. It's his parents that are more difficult to document—though Nathaniel Denton came to America in 1874 so I kind of presume Bathsheba came then, too... Many of their children stayed behind in England.

Anyway...the long and the short of it is that I have no idea which line to follow. What I really want to know is all the mystery and drama surrounding William Martin.

Perhaps I've been watching too much Downton Abbey...

Rain, rain, go away!

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 04:49:00 +0000

The other night when I went into the girls' room to check on some nighttime problems, I noticed that Rachel's blanket was wet...with droplets of water. She assured me she hadn't wet the bed and I believed her because wetting the bed doesn't usually leave droplets of water on the top of your quilt. Neither of us could think of a good answer, it being the middle of the night and all, so we decided to just ignore it and go back to sleep. Whatever had originally woken Rachel up had been taken care of and the water was a minor wasn't weighing on my mind as much as getting back into bed was.

In the morning, Rachel said, "Mom, I think I know how my blanket got wet last night."

"Oh, really?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said. "It's a pretty easy answer—it's been raining in my room at night."

"You know that it doesn't rain in the house, right?"

"Well, yes, but I have felt it rain in my room at night and come look at this!"

She took me into her bedroom and showed me some condensation on her windows.

"See? It really has been raining in my room. I know it's weird but it's happening."

"That's just condensation," I told her, "Probably from the humidifier."

"It is raining in my room," she insisted. "Just come and stay in my room all night and that way you'll know right when it starts raining. I don't know how it happens but it does!"

A simple...and altogether terrible...solution. I told her I would get to the bottom of it.

So last night before Andrew and I went to bed I went into the girls' room to see if it had started raining yet. The humidifier had already been running for a few hours so I went to feel Rachel's blankets. They were a little wet.

I climbed onto her bed and touched the ceiling. It was also a little wet. Wet enough that little water droplets were forming and dripping onto her.

So it has been raining in her room.

The condensation seems only to gather where the ceiling's already had some moisture damage—along what Rachel used to call the "ghost line" on her ceiling. The girls have been sick and coughing for so long that I think they still need the humidifier in there but we decided we could turn it off before we went to bed instead of having it run until it shuts off automatically (whenever that is). Hopefully that will lessen the frequency of Rachel's nighttime downpours because she refuses to sleep with her door open so the steam just gets trapped in her room...

Sink bath

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 04:19:00 +0000

The last record I have of Miriam having a sink bath was just over two years ago—on January 20th—she was three months old. It was much different than the sink bath she had today!

After dinner Rachel asked if they could have a bath and originally I said no because they should have one on Saturday so they'll be clean for Sunday. And then I realized that today is Saturday (darn it all; I thought it was Friday again) so quickly changed my mind and asked the girls to get ready for a bath.

Miriam quickly stripped off her clothes and then ran into the kitchen, laughing, "I'm lake-ed!"

I love how she say lake-ed instead of naked.

Grandpa swooped her up and told her she was going to have a shower in the sink. This is a common little game of theirs—he'll dip her head in the sink and sprinkle her with water. She also enjoys asking him for a "sink-rink!" (or "sink-drink," for those of us who can pronounce all our consonant clusters).

Anyway, because she was so fit for a sink shower she ended up having a full on bath in the kitchen sink.

She thought it was both hilarious and enjoyable.

When she was all squeaky clean and grandpa had toweled her off, she ran off to join Rachel in the bathroom.

"Me want a big bath now!" she said.

I have a feeling that this was one of the last sink baths Miriam will be taking...unless we get a bigger kitchen sink.

Also, I was mistaken about both children being asleep before 9:00—Miriam is most definitely still awake and now she's out in the living room entertaining some "big kids" who came to visit with Grandpa.

Saturday is a special day

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 04:01:00 +0000

Another weekend's come and gone and we have very little to show for it, though I did spend the morning going through toys and clothes (we ended up ditching two garbage bags full) and Andrew spent three hours working on a single statistics problem (which incidentally ended up being unassigned—bummer...now he still has to do his homework after spending all that time on that tricky problem).

The girls had Emily over to play and got along nicely, for the most part. Grandma got a package in the mail yesterday and gave the girls the box. It was kind of funny, actually.

Grandma regularly donates blood at the Red Cross and she earns points throughout the year for doing so. At the end of the year she can cash her points in for a prize and this year she chose a Red Cross camping chair, which they said would ship in 8–12 weeks. Grandma gave blood on Thursday and yesterday was showing the girls the rectangle the phlebotomist drew on her arm so that he'd remember where to poke her after sterilizing the area and then Grandma said, "I wonder when my camping chairs going to get here..."

And the doorbell rang.

Rachel ran to answer it and there, instead of a person, stood a tall cardboard box.

It was from the Red Cross and inside was a camping chair.

The timing was impecable.

And the girls have really been enjoying that box. They coloured it with Emily today and were all sitting in it so cute so I ran to get the camera but by the time I came back, something tragic had happened and instead of capturing a beautiful moment I captured Rachel screaming, "YOU RUIN EVERYTHING!" at Emily. Fun times...

And then I made Rachel come upstairs to cool down and Emily came upstairs, too, for some reason (maybe Emily really does ruin everything—she managed to even ruin time out! ...just kidding...) leaving Miriam in the box alone. A few minutes later we heard, "Grandma! Grandma! Help me! I'm in a box...and I can't get out!"

It was pitiful.

Grandma helped her out and then we had lunch—bean burritos, bananas, oranges, and string cheese. Miriam just had a quesadilla because she doesn't like beans in her burritos. She opened it up to check and said, "What the hiccup!?"

This threw Rachel into a fit of giggles.

"She meant to say 'What the heck!'" Rachel laughed, "But instead she said 'What the hiccup!'"

It's actually rather hilarious, barring the fact that my two-year-old was trying to say 'What the heck?' I know it's a Utah phrase but I don't think it's one that I use all that often, so what the heck's going on here?

After lunch, Miriam went down for a nap and Rachel and Emily went to play at Emily's house. Then we ran a bunch of errands, including a stop at the library. The girls had a blast picking out books—Rachel would grab one and say, "Oh, this one looks good!" And then Miriam would grab one and say, "Oh, this one looks good!" And then Rachel would grab one and say, "How about this one?" And then Miriam would grab one and say, "How about this one?"

Miriam's quite the little parrot. I think that's why she talks so well already.

By the time we got home, Auntie Katharine, Uncle Todd, and Kayl were over to make a birthday dinner for Grandma—her birthday is on February 14th, so it's a little bit early but who says no to a meal they don't have to cook?

The girls were thrilled to have Kayl over and taught him the charming game of running around the house like wild animals.

Shortly after this picture was taken Rachel and Kayl lost their balance and face planted on the floor.

It ended up being a pretty fun day, I suppose. And the kids were so exhausted that they were asleep before 9:00 so I'm not complaining!

I think I broke it in my sleep

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 17:15:00 +0000

A couple of nights ago just as we were turning off the light to go to bed, a child called out in their sleep.

"MOM!"

I sucked in some air and held my breath. Neither Andrew nor I moved until we were sure the moaner was really asleep and not actually calling out to me.

"I think they're asleep," Andrew whispered eventually.

"How come whenever they call out it sounds like they're saying mom?" I wondered.

"Because that is what they're saying," Andrew correctly told me.

Sometimes it's hard to have demands be thrown at you all day—and all night—long and sometimes I wish someone else could take a turn. Living in a house with three other adults does allow me more undemanded time than I would get otherwise—for example, the girls are downstairs "helping" Grandma do her morning exercises—but still.

Last night at about four o'clock in the morning I woke up to someone screaming.

"DAD!"

Did they just say...

"DAD!"

Awesome. I was under no obligation to rush into the bedroom, banish the monsters, cuddle the child, soothe the sore throat, clean up the throw up, or do whatever it was that needed doing. I could stay in my nice, warm bed.

For once.

*poke*poke*poke*

I poked Andrew but waking him is like waking the dead. He didn't even roll over.

"DAD!"

The screaming was getting desperate—and very high pitched.

I went into the girls' room and found Rachel sitting up in bed—and Miriam wide awake, sucking her thumb and pulling her ear—and holding her foot, which, she told me, "hurts so bad I think I broke it in my sleep! I need Daddy to fix it!"

"Oh, I don't think you broke your foot. I think you probably just slept on it funny and it fell asleep—that just means it didn't get enough blood and now it probably feels a little bit prickly, doesn't it?"

She nodded. I rubbed her foot a little bit and then she asked for a cold cloth (which is the Balm of Gilead for almost any pain Rachel has had in her short little life). By this time Miriam was well awake so I invited her to come with me to go potty—may as well...we were already up. Rachel decided that she'd better go potty, too, and limped slowly to the bathroom after us, complaining that I never carry her and that Miriam should be walking because Miriam didn't have a broken foot. Never mind the fact that Rachel weighs twice as much and has been walking for twice as long as Miriam...

I got the kids back in bed but then Miriam had a terrible coughing fit and asked for a cough drop. Fortunately her coughing fit was terrible enough that it woke up her daddy, who I sent in to fix Rachel's foot because she was in bed insisting that she still needed her daddy to cure her foot.

I cuddled Miriam while she sucked on her cough drop—it makes me nervous to put her to bed with a cough drop in her mouth. A few days ago I caught her chewing up and swallowing her cough drop and told her that we're not supposed to "crunch it up." We're just supposed to suck on it so that the medicine can slowly go down our throat—it doesn't do our throat any good to have the medicine in our tummies! So she stopped crunching them up. Yesterday morning she was sucking on one and then accidentally swallowed it. She came up to me and said, "Mommy—my cough drop is gone. But not did I just crunch it up. Just did I choke on it. Okay?" And that's why putting her to bed with a cough drop in her mouth makes me nervous. Have you ever accidentally swallowed a cough drop? I have. And there have been times when I thought choking on a cough drop would be listed as my cause of death.

Anyway, so I cuddled with Miriam while she sucked on her cough drop and Andrew magically convinced Rachel that if she would just go back to sleep all would be right in the morning and then he came and took Miriam from me and she screamed the whole way to her room about wanting her mommy and then he magically got her settled back into her own bed, too.

He did it all within five minutes of getting out of bed, too!

Of course, I had already massaged, rocked, pottied, and soothed the children for several minutes prior to him getting up. But still—that has got to be a new record for getting sick children back in bed.

Now if only I could get him to react to hearing his name being called in the middle of the night like I do for mine—I always sit bolt upright in a state of panic when I hear my children shriek like that. He just sleeps through it. What gives?

Also, how can their middle-of-the-night wakings not affect their morning wake up time at all? Because when I wake up in the morning after being up in the middle of the night I usually feel like I got hit in the head with something...

Snowy days

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 21:37:00 +0000

It's finally started snowing, which is really alright with me because it's also still fairly warm. Walking home from school, though, is now a half hour venture. We have to stop every few feet to fall in the snow or jump in a puddle or pack a snowball or...

The girls have fun doing it, though.

Miriam is a very gentle snowball fighter. She'll come right up to you and say, "You ready? I'm going to throw this at you now. You ready?" And then she'll only throw it after you say yes.

Rachel is less gentle and her aim is killer. Today I didn't dodge one fast enough and she pegged the side of my face.

She got Miriam multiple times because Miriam doesn't know to take cover when Rachel calls her name. Sometimes she's lucky—like in the picture below, she just "caught" Rachel's snowball in her elbow.

Other times she's not so lucky—like today when Rachel smacked her in the face with a snowball that was easily as big as her head. Miriam developed a bit of a bloody nose after that...

Before we went inside for lunch we made a snowman in the backyard. The first one of the season.

Rachel was a big help this year—last year she wasn't quite able to roll snowballs by herself. This year she was a pro.

Miriam was a little less helpful...but she did what she could.

Our snowman ended up being more than three balls high because rolling snowballs ended up being much more enjoyable than I had originally thought. For some of us anyway. I was alright with quitting. Rachel and Miriam kept on going.

We had to make the head more than once because we accidentally knocked it off a couple of times...

We ended up with a grand, if not a little melty and mushy, snowman.

Quoting one of our storybooks, Rachel gave him a hug and said, "He's my favourite winter friend."

And then I went inside and made lunch and the girls stayed outside and continued to play in the snow. I love it when they play on their own!

Tuesdays and Thursdays

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 21:17:00 +0000

This semester the Tuesday thru Thursday stretch is a little bit taxing. Andrew comes home after dinner but just in time for bedtime on Tuesday. On Wednesdays he's gone before anyone wakes up and comes home after the girls are (hopefully) asleep. On Thursdays he comes home just in time for dinner. If it wasn't for Tuesday and Thursday mornings I'd probably have gone crazy already.

Andrew doesn't have class until noon on Tuesdays and Thursdays this semester so I convinced him that it should be his job to take Rachel to preschool since those are the days he goes. He seemed reluctant at first—parking is difficult unless you get to school super early so he likes to be there by 8:00 everyday so that he can park in the Tanner building parking garage. Otherwise he has to walk a ways.

I totally get this. It's cold outside.

But, uh, how exactly do I get Rachel to school? I walk her there. In the cold. Yup.

I'd rather not have to get up and get ready and get Miriam ready and get Rachel ready and leave the house with enough time to walk in the cold to get Rachel to school on time, especially when I'm pregnant. Getting up is getting easier now that I'm out of the first trimester but still...it's cold in the morning! By noon, when I pick her up from school, it's usually warm.

We went to the Lewises' house for FHE a couple of weeks ago (our friends from Egypt who live here now) and I was talking with Sara (no h) about being pregnant because she was also recently pregnant (but sadly ended up with an angel baby—she is my hero in more than one way: she has handled this so well and she's also overall amazing) and she was assuring Andrew that my energy drain was no joke. Then she told a story about how once when Kevan was doing his master's degree he didn't have class until later in the day and she was pregnant so he let her sleep in every morning while he got all the kids up and ready for the day and off to school.

Andrew hasn't complained about taking Rachel to preschool since that visit.

Not that he complained a lot about it before; he didn't. But I think his attitude changed after talking with Sara. Now he's just planning on getting up with the girls on Tuesday and Thursday mornings so that I can sleep for an extra hour before he leaves for the day. It's nice for me and it's nice for them and it's nice for him—we don't have evenings together during the week so we may as well use the mornings for Daddy-time.

Anyway, Miriam and I had the morning to ourselves today, like we usually do. We spent some time looking at Miriam's baby pictures on the blog, which she loves doing.

Then we returned the bumble-bee-teddy-bear shepherd to its post at the nativity in the girls' room. They refuse to dissemble it and when Miriam found that the bumble-bee-teddy-bear shepherd wasn't in the right spot she just about died. I love so much about this nativity: that the holy family is made of pine cones, a snail (sitting on top of the lamp) plays the part of the angel, and that the admirers of the baby Jesus are a couple of carrots, a camel, a duckling, turtle, and a bumble-bee-teddy-bear.

Miriam is always leaving toys on the toilet paper roll. It's a very inconvenient shelf for everyone but her.

And she asked if she could get something from my nightstand. I thought she said water bottle (budda-bodda) so I said yes but it turns out she said thermometer (buma-budda). When I heard the beeping I asked her to put it away. She jammed it in the case upside down and got it stuck. When I pulled it out part of the thermometer stayed wedged in the case. That was fun to fix.

It wasn't a bad morning. And I think it won't be a bad semester, either—not with Andrew getting Rachel ready for school in the mornings!

Rewards of Motherhood

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 05:30:00 +0000

Yesterday morning the girls crawled into bed and cuddled with me, completely ignoring their dad until I pointed out that he might be a little jealous.

"You're the bestest, bestest, bestest mommy ever, ever, ever!" they crooned, stroking my hair and patting my cheeks. I think Rachel said it first and Miriam parroted it.

So far that day I had done nothing to deserve the compliment considering we were all still in bed. Why turn down a compliment though, right?

When I told them they should give some love to their daddy, too, Miriam simply said, "Me jump on you!"

And then she pounced on him.

Tonight I was cuddling Miriam while she was sucking on a cough drop (when she should have been in bed...but she's sick so she wasn't).

"Sweetie Mommy," she said, patting my cheek. "You're the bestest, bestest, bestest mommy ever!"

Sometimes being the mom has it's rewards.

And hearing that is one of them.

Unbecoming the baby

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 05:22:00 +0000

I'm not sure Miriam's ready to give up being the baby but that's alright because she has a few months left of it. My mom asked her once what she was going to do once her mommy had a new baby—at the time, Miriam was cuddled in my arms (as she often is).

"Oh, just keep it in my Mommy's tummy," she said.

A few days later my mom asked her the same question. This time she had a better answer (in my opinion).

"Me share with it!" she said happily.

Miriam's so tiny and cuddly that it's going to be hard giving her up as my baby, but there are a few habits we've been changing and that've been helping her to grow up. One of her most annoying habits (that we've been working on breaking) is her desire to cuddle...cleavage. Her fascination started after I weaned her in...July? August? I can't remember when we finally ended it but once she understood that it was over she decided that just because she no longer got milk it didn't mean that she shouldn't get access.

She'd cuddle on my lap, suck her thumb, and stick her hand down my shirt.

I'd pull her hand out.

She'd stick her hand down.

I'd pull her hand out.

She'd stick her hand down.

It was a constant battle and she had many excuses about why she should be allowed to do it.

"But me sad!"

"Not my ear is working!"

"Not me feel good!"

Anything to get me to cave.

It was a very annoying problem. I tried to convince her to seek comfort in other ways—she could hold my neck (that's what my mom eventually trained my little brother to do) or stroke my cheek or...whatever...just...come on!

Right around Christmas we took a turn for the worse when she figured out that ALL FEMALES HAVE THEM!

Karen's sister Linda came over to stay right around finals week. She picked Miriam up, Miriam's hand shot down the front of her shirt.

We went to Reid and Karen's BYU ward Christmas dinner and Miriam went around busily sticking her hand down the shirt of every girl who dared to hold her!

The world was her oyster. And it was beginning to be a very serious and embarrassing problem.

We've worked on it and worked on it and worked on it and we're finally able to control it a bit better. Now instead of putting her hand down the front of my shirt she puts her hand up my shirtsleeves—anything to get at some unexposed and "off limits" skin. Going up my shirtsleeves is much better than plunging down my neckline, though, I think.

Shortly after my grandpa's funeral in December, Miriam was rubbing my legs (up my pantlegs) when she announced in a hushed tone, "Know what, Mom? Once 'pon a time...I touched a dead body."

I was a little shocked to hear that come out of my two-year-old's mouth and I, frankly, have no idea if it's true or not. I was not always the one toting her around at the viewing and it's possible...that if she went up with some cousins...I don't know. But it was still a little shocking...and kind of creepy...especially since she thought to tell me that as she was stroking my legs.

One of the side effects of our no-cleavage training has been that Miriam has started sucking both of her thumbs. She still favours the left but will switch sides in order to minimize chapping and to better facilitate ear pulling. She used to do this funny cross-over thing where she'd stick her right arm under her left arm (the thumb of which was in her mouth) so that she could pull her left ear when her right ear would "stop working." Now, though, she'll suddenly stop sucking and pulling and will switch, so she'll be sucking the opposite thumb and pulling the opposite ear. Right, left, right, left. It's kind of funny.

Hopefully it's a habit she'll give up without a fight but after working so hard to eliminate some of her other bad habits, I'm not so sure she will give it up willingly. We've joked about cutting off her thumbs a bit at a time until there's nothing left to suck on (you know, like they do with soothers...or binkies (if you're from Utah)). You should have seen her panic!

Mind you, we were only joking about that method.

I'm not too worried about it yet but once we start thinking about kindergarten for her she'll have to quit. Fortunately for her that's years off.

Sometimes I Facebook Instead of Blog

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 04:53:00 +0000

Even with twenty posts under my belt so far this year, I feel like I have been slacking in the blogging department. My girls say so many funny things and I usually jot them down on Facebook simply because it's fast and easy and everyone tells me how great it is (while I usually get no comments here). But I feel like this is where the real record is kept—this is where I someday plan to pull material from for our family annals (not that we've ever succeeded in making a book but we certainly do intend to one day). Without further ado, here are a bunch of random funny things my kids have said that I have failed to blog about because I most often choose napping to fill my spare time over anything else (eventually I'll quit that, I hope)...

January 17th:

On Sunday we gave one of our (three) gingerbread houses away. This morning Miriam said, "Hey! One of our houses is missing!" I'm pleased she can do subtraction but am amused it took her so long to notice.

Andrew stopped by the store on his way home from school today. Miriam unpacked for him—toothpaste for the girls, razors for me, shaving cream for Andrew.

"Is it like Christmas!" Miriam exclaimed, passing out toiletries and hugs.

Andrew's been wanting to try a new recipe for quite some time—he sent it to me months ago. You just wrap a piece of pepperoni and some cheese (or whatever pizza toppings you'd prefer) in a bit dough (pizza dough or biscuit dough or whatever) and roll it into a ball and throw it into a bunt pan. It ends up like "pull aparts" or "monkey bread" or whatever you'd like to call it, only dinner instead of dessert. You dip it in marinara sauce. It's not too complicated but it is time consuming to stuff all the little dough balls.

"I'm going to start making dinner," I said.

Andrew knew what I was going to make and thought the girls would have fun helping so invited them to do so.

"What are we having?" Rachel asked.

"Pizza Monkey Bread!"Andrew said all excitedly.

"Ew," Rachel said, wrinkling her nose. "Does it have monkeys in it?"

My little helpers opted not to help and I spent a good half hour rolling silly little balls before Andrew made the mistake of wandering through the kitchen. I roped him into helping me finish.

January 18:

We've been playing with play-doh quite a bit lately. Miriam finally can make a snake and a ball, which means she can do way more than just rip the play-doh into shreds. Rachel's entered the world of butterflies and pottery and many complex things. Miriam's talent is obviously a bit more limited.

I remember opening the box of play-doh on Christmas Eve so we could put it in the girls' stockings. There was a warning on the box that I thought was hilarious: Moulded results may vary depending on the age and skill level of the children involved.

Or something like that.

I snickered about the sad state our world is in that a company actually has to warn caregivers that their children might not be wonderful at something in order to save themselves from lawsuits. It's certainly true, though. Rachel is much more creative and skilled than Miriam at this point.

Miriam was rolling ball after ball after ball. I asked her what she was making (because we had rolled a bunch of balls earlier and turned them into a snowman since there is no snow to be found on the ground). I thought perhaps she had some creative idea in mind.

"This is a ball," she said, holding up a marble-sized ball. "And this," she said, holding up a ball about half the size of the first, "Is a giant, giant, giant, giant booger!"

Creative idea, indeed.

Rachel is still as obsessed with Harry Potter as ever. She recently had a duel with some of the BYU kids when they were over for FHE or something a couple of weeks ago. She only knows innocuous spells such as "Lumos!" and "Alohamora!" and "Wingardium Leviosa!" but will occasionally throw in a "Swish and Flick!" or two even though we've told her time and again that isn't actually a spell. Not that any of them are.

Miriam has picked up on Rachel's passion. Her favourite spells are "Alohamora!" and "Harry gaurd 'em! Let me rose ha!" Rachel is always very quick to correct Miriam's pronunciation.

The other day she decided she'd taunt Miriam by telling her she was in Slytherin House.

"You're in Slytherin," she said.

"No! Not I am dressed up in green!" Miriam pointed out. And this was true; she had asked me to help her into her red flamenco dress minutes before so that she could be in Gryffindor.

"Well, you're still in Slytherin, so there!"

Miriam ran to me, crying. "Mom! Tell Rachie—not I am in Slytherin!"

"Rachel," I chided lazily, "Quit telling your sister she's in Slytherin."

"But, Mom!" Rachel whined, "That's where all the bad kids are!"

"But Miriam's not bad," I pointed out.

"Fine," Rachel huffed. "You're not in Slytherin."

Miriam has a secret weapon to get back at Rachel, though, and that is using Voldemort's name. Sometimes she'll whisper it at night and Rachel will freak out about it and I'll have to go in and ask Miriam to please instead say "He who must not be named" or "You-know-who." I think she does it to terrify Rachel on purpose. And I can't say Rachel doesn't deserve it.

January 19:

The girls have had colds for a while (as you probably noticed and I like to think that's why I haven't been doing as much blogging because when they caught these colds they gave me a new cold and I was just getting over my old one, too). They've been upset about having to blow their noses so often—they're getting chapped and sore.

"I have a scratchy nose," Miriam told me today. "Can you just put a bandaid on it or something 'cuz it hurts!"

It took a long while to convince her that I can't just put a bandaid on her nose...right over her nostrils (because that's where she wanted it).

January 20:

The girls seemed to be getting better so I let them go over to the neighbour's to play. Miriam stayed until nap time and Rachel stayed the whole live-long day. It was warm outside so they played and played and played. Finally I guess the neighbours had enough of Rachel and they sent her home. You can see our house from theirs so we just let her walk by herself. She had a bit of trouble, though, and explained it to me when she got home.

"Did you know I saw a robin on my walk home today? But then I hit that jingly music thing [the chime] in Grandma's tree to make it fly away so it wouldn't distract me anymore because it was singing and stuff and I was like, 'Ah! I can't remember to walk home when you're singing at me!'"

Distract-o Girl could be one of her nicknames, I suppose. You can tack an -o onto just about anything and it makes a good nickname. Destruct-o Baby is one we use when the small people in our home ruthlessly destroy something.

Miriam's play date actually ended when the cat, Wellington, decided to investigate the children. Her cries could be heard all the way up at our house so...she came home.

"Me did go outside and a cat did popped out and me scared of it," she explained.

Friday evening we had dinner in the Tanner Building (for a rockin' MPA party/talent show). The Tanner Building is all decked out in world flags and Rachel was asking which countries the different flags belonged to. We were answering her to the best of our ability. Eventually we got to Romania.

"Romania!?" Rachel squealed, "That's where Ron's brother Charlie works! He studies dragons..."

Once we figured out what she said, our table-mates were thrilled. And thus yet another wonderfully in-depth conversation about Harry Potter was initiated between our four-year-old daughter and college students. Grad students, no less.

At first we couldn't tell what she said because her r's come out as w's and her ch's come out as s/f/th.

"That's where wum...Brudda S/F/Thawlee works!"

We thought she was saying something about Brother...Folley? That's not a last name that is unfamiliar to
her.

The talent show went well. We sang Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam with some other young families in the program and tossed our kids in the air.

There were a lot of funny acts, really, but my favourite was when this one guy marched in with his bagpipes. We were in an auditorium-style classroom so there were stairs leading down to the stage and Miriam, who had gotten tired of sitting, was playing on the stairs.

All of a sudden this 6-foot-something (tall!) guy bursts into the room, Scottish music blaring from a dangerous-looking instrument...

Miriam flipped out.

She couldn't get back in our row because Andrew was filming and his legs are so long that his knees were touching the seat in front of us and the only other place he could put them was in the aisle, but that is where the bagpiper was walking and he didn't want to trip him. I had to lean over Rachel and pull Miriam over Andrew into the safety of my arms where she continued to cry for quite some time.

Luckily bagpipes are so loud that I don't think anyone else heard her. But the look on her face was priceless as she watched this giant of a man marching down the stairs straight at her.

January 22:

Miriam handed me a toy water gun (the only gun (toy or otherwise)) in our house.

"Don't shoot me," she advised. "Shoot Rachie!"

Never were there such devoted sisters...

January 23:

I left a pitcher full of water on the counter—we use it to fill up the humidifier in the girls' bedroom on a nightly basis and I was just finishing up the dishes and figured I'd fill up the pitcher while I had the water going. Very efficient, I know. Because it would have been much more difficult to do it any other time...

"What's that for?" asked Grandpa, who was carrying Miriam around.

"The 'fier in my bedroom," Miriam told him.

He looked a little confused about this. I told him that there was no "fire" in her room but a "humidifier."

Somehow shortening humidifier to "fire" makes things sound a lot more dangerous than they really are, though I suppose a pitcher full of water is useful in both those scenarios.

And that wraps up my neglect of the blog...for now.

The weekend

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 03:48:00 +0000

On Saturday we got our first real snowfall of the season, meaning that it fell and it stuck. It rained all morning and half the afternoon and then suddenly the rain turned into huge, fluffy snowflakes. The girls wanted to go outside to play, even though the snow was mostly slush when they went out.

Neither of them were feeling great so they only stayed out for a few minutes but long enough to soak through their winter things—snow doesn't take long to soak through when it's already halfway melted.

Saturday evening brought a last-minute run to the InstaCare for Rachel, who started to complain about not being able to swallow. I looked in her throat and it looked pretty...nasty...so we began to wonder if it was strep or tonsillitis or something. Turns out it was neither but we got a prescription from the doctor, anyway, since he was worried about her having a fever after being sick for so long (she's been sick for like a week and a half). It was a good thing because that night she spiked a fever and was completely lethargic and too weak even to walk.

We found a substitute for Sunbeams and I planned on just staying home with the girls—Miriam's out with a sniffle, cough, and fever, too. Rachel's fever had broken by Sunday morning and she was feeling much better but we decided what we all needed was a real day of rest, anyway.

Andrew still had to go to church because he's the organist and no one else will play and while he was getting ready to go in the morning he said something about needing to hurry.

"No!" Miriam shrieked. "Not are we going to church today! Are we staying home and watching church movies!"

She was a little bit excited at the prospect of watching movies all day while snuggled under blankets. We watched Legacy. And then I let them watch Angelina Ballerina for a little while, even though it's not a church movie, because Miriam is obsessed with ballerinas lately. She's been wearing a tutu for three days.

Daddy came home from church and helped with lunch and nap time. Surprisingly, I was the only one who napped. Miriam was supposed to—and we thought she would because she's sick—but she didn't. Rachel never does but she had quiet time.

We're still a little sick today but at least we're functional. I think Rachel will be well enough to go to school tomorrow and Miriam certainly had more energy today than she did yesterday so hopefully she'll be feeling better by tomorrow, too.

Valentine "Stained Glass"

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 03:34:00 +0000

A few days ago a friend sent me an invitation to Pintrest. So I joined. I didn't really think I'd like it but lo and behold...I do like it. So far I have made Winger's Sticky Finger Sauce (which was beyond good and way cheaper than actually eating there), popped popcorn in the microwave in a brown paper bag, and today the girls and I made this craft that I found (I think it was originally from Martha Stewart).

It was really pretty simple but difficult for my girls. We just sharpened some crayons onto a sheet of wax paper, folded the wax paper in half, and ironed it before tracing and cutting out our hearts.

Rachel found sharpening crayons to be a difficult task. Miriam's job was selecting which crayons to sharpen—she thought that was relatively easy.

But the bonus was that we had pointy crayons when we were finished, which meant that the girls spent the next who-knows-how-long colouring with their like-new crayons.

We did it twice and then when we were finished I used a needle and thread to tie a loop on each heart so we could hang them in our window. It wasn't a very sunny day—we had our second real snow storm of the season today—but you can see the light shining through our hearts (and the stained glass hummingbird that my dad made for Rachel when she was a baby).

I imagine they'll be even prettier on a sunnier day.

Coccinellidaephobia

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 18:20:00 +0000

This morning our neighbours came over to invite the girls to play. Again. They've called on us just about every day this week but for some reason Rachel was loathe to accept the invitation. Today they invited both Rachel and Miriam over to play and the girls were both very excited about that—strength in numbers, I guess. I asked Rachel why she was so against playing with Emily this week when during Christmas break she practically lived at Emily's house.

"I did not!" she said.

"You were over there all the time," I pointed out.

"But I slept here still so this is where I lived."

Good point. Still—it's just silly that she's been refusing to go over to Emily's house since then. I was excited that she was finally excited about going over there.

Unfortunately we were still in our pyjamas eating breakfast—I made a deal with the girls last night that I would read them stories if they wouldn't come bug me in the morning (since it was way past their bedtime by the time we got home from Relief Society) and they totally followed through on their end of the deal. They didn't come into my room until 9:00! It was lovely. But it made for a late morning so we said we'd finish eating breakfast and then get dressed and then walk over.

Rachel thought it would be fun to wear their matching outfits. Grandma got Rachel's outfit a while ago and Auntie Sarah gave Miriam her outfit for Christmas. It was a happy coincidence that they matched.

Miriam wore her outfit on Christmas day but hasn't worn it since.

She's recently become terrified of ladybugs. She keeps having nightmares where ladybugs and/or love bugs eat her. Yesterday when she woke up from her nap she was virtually unconsolable for a half hour—no one had any idea what she was talking about...until I caught "love bug" and "sharp teeth." Ah—another nightmare.

It's such a silly one because ladybugs are anything but vicious and love bugs are anything but real.

We got her into the ladybug outfit but the minute she realized what she was wearing she dissolved into tears. She was absolutely sobbing by the time I decided to just give up convincing her to wear it and let her chose something else.

It's kind of sad because it's such a cute outfit.

There are times in a young mother's life when she dreams of having her little girls wear cute, matching outfits—like for family pictures or when going to a party or just because it's ridiculously adorable.

Unfortunately, until we kick this ladybug phobia I don't think it's going to happen in the near future.

Good evening

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 05:41:00 +0000

I went to Relief Society this evening. It was great because A) it got me out of the house, which meant that I put something other than sweatpants on, and B) it was demonstration of quick and easy meals and dinnertime has been such a rut for me lately that having a whole list of ideas in my hand couldn't be anything but great.

The ideas really were quick and easy. What surprised me was that everyone seemed genuinely excited about them. I kept looking around the room and everyone was nodding their heads and spouting out suggestions and looking really thrilled about each and every recipe.

And I thought to myself, "Self, maybe you can cook."

That's kind of a revelation.

I think of myself as a survival cook, mostly—I eat to live, not the other way around—so my meals are generally quick and easy and perhaps even a little...boring.

But here is this whole room of women getting all excited about recipes that I know I can make. So if they're eating what I'm eating and I think what they're making is good then what I'm making must be good, too, right?

If A=B and B=C then A=C.

That's a thing, right?

For dinner tonight, before Relief Society, I made lasagna soup. It's a pretty easy recipe. Especially if you just ixnay the eatmay like I do. Cooking with meat is not my favourite so mostly I just don't do it.

Most of the recipes we talked about tonight were just as easy and just as quick, which is a good thing if you're like me and never remember to think about dinner until it's time to eat—I realize that problem would be eliminated if I would just make a menu but right now my appetite is so unpredictable that I can't confidentially plan meals farther in the future than the present. Who knows what I'll want to eat tomorrow or if I'll want to cook at all? If I don't want to cook and Andrew's home, he cooks. If I don't want to cook and Andrew's not home then we have frozen burritos or good ol' PB&J or something in that strain. Cooking while pregnant? No thanks.

I kind of want to try the recipe for Shepherd's Pie and Green Bean Casserole because I know that certain people in my family actually like green beans.

Truthfully I didn't like any of the samples tonight...except the grapes. *sigh*

I went to pick my girls up from the nursery when we were finished and said, "Hi, girls! Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah!" Miriam chirped. "And I peed my pants!"

I checked. She had.

"Why didn't you use the potty?" I sighed. "It's right there."

It seriously is right there. In the same room as the nursery. Kid-sized toilet and all.

"She did use the potty," the babysitter said. "I helped her go!"

Well, she obviously went again at some point because there she was, soaked through all her many layers (of pants, skirt with shorts sewn on them, and a dress—at least her t-shirt was dry, right?). I assured the sitter it wasn't her fault and ran off to get the diaper bag so I could change Miriam before going home.

What was funny was how happy Miriam sounded about having wet her pants—like it the mark of a good evening (which I'm sure it was because she usually only wets her pants when she's too busy having fun).

When we got home we got ready for bed...relatively quickly. I wasn't very enthusiastic about helping the girls get ready for bed because I felt that Andrew should be helping (given that he was home) but he didn't—he has some huge project that has to be submitted for review tomorrow and he just found out that it has to be translated into Spanish before it can be reviewed (so, yeah). I didn't know that or I wouldn't have nagged him so much, but he managed to ignore me long enough that the girls were all ready for bed (and then some) by the time we were able to peel him away from his project for family prayer and scriptures.

Rachel was actually excited for bed because Andrew finally made a CD of Harry Potter music for her—she's been begging for ages. He has the MP3s (legally) on iTunes but the girls have a CD player in their room so it's just easier to let them listen that way. Anyway, after I read her a page and a half from Harry Potter (one of her favourite parts, when Hermione makes the feather float using Wingardium Leviosa) and singing one lullaby to each of the girls they settled down without a peep.

It was a good night all around.

Random stories

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 20:17:00 +0000

Miriam loves getting herself dressed. Her outfits may be a little crazy sometimes but at least she usually has clothes on. Rachel was the opposite when she was two and was usually found running around naked instead of running around with three or four dresses on.

A couple of nights ago Miriam was getting herself ready for bed when she confused her pants and shirt. She was very frustrated with how things were going.

Miriam's got a fantastic memory (which sometimes involves remembering things that I wish she'd forget—like whether or not I promised dessert on any given night). On Saturday when we were driving home from Josie's concert, she whipped out her cell phone to text a friend or something. Josie's old cell phone had died (probably from over-texting or something) and so she's been using David's cell phone (which he left here when he went off to Leeds). Miriam got really concerned and asked Josie, "Why you has Uncle David's cell phone?"

"Because," Josie explained, "My cell phone broke."

"Oh," said Miriam. "And Uncle Patrick still has his cell phone?"

"Yes, he does."

David and Patrick have identical phones—well, I guess now Josie and Patrick have identical phones. But Miriam hasn't seen David with his phone since September, at least, so how she was able to take one look at a phone and recognize it as his was quite amazing.

My girls are getting better at playing with each other, which is really nice. Rachel still likes to have "alone time" in her room, which bothers Miriam to no end because Miriam can't open doors yet. She'll stand at the bedroom door and knock and knock and knock while saying, "Is it my room, too, Rachie! Is it my room, too!" Usually Rachel won't let her in and I have to try to convince Miriam to go off and play somewhere else but occasionally Rachel will succumb to guilt (because it is Miriam's room, too) and will let her join in whatever game Rachel is playing.

The other day they were playing blocks but then moved on to some sort of baby game. They made beds on the floor and in the doll crib.

They also started playing with their "WowWee Alive" animals that Grandma got them for Christmas. They're stuffed animals with sensors sewn in so that they can tell when they're being interacted with. Rachel has a white tiger cub that purs when you pet it. Miriam has a koala joey that makes happy koala noises when you pet it.

Miriam was so afraid of her koala when she first got it that she asked me to take it away. It stayed in our room for a while. Rachel was much braver with her tiger and even teased Miriam for being so afraid of a toy—she took her tiger to bed with her on Christmas night just to show how brave she was. But then, about half an hour after they had been put to bed, the girls' bedroom door opened and there was a thud in the hallway.

I went to see what it was—the tiger had been thrown out of the bedroom.

Perhaps it was a little scary, after all.

Now, though, they're both used to their animals, more or less, and have even named them. At first Rachel named her tiger Abra (after my sister), but then the tiger meowed and Miriam thought it sounded like the tiger said Maya so Rachel changed the tiger's name to Maya. I then asked Miriam what her koala's name was and she said it was Abra. It's days later now and the names seem to have stuck so I think we'll have Maya and Abra around for a while.

All State Honour Choir concert

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 18:12:00 +0000

On Saturday Josie participated in Utah's All State Honour Choir—they performed up in Roy, which is a little over an hour away. Miriam, my mom, and I went to watch. Rachel wanted to come so badly but she's been coughing so hard that she's been throwing up and I couldn't really imagine trying to deal with that in the middle of a concert so she had to stay home. At first she was a little upset by the idea but eventually we were able to bring her around to accepting the idea—she'd get to stay at home with Daddy and he'd let her watch Harry Potter. It wasn't a bad deal.

But then my mom came to pick me and Miriam up and Rachel got upset all over again. My mom had brought a new colouring book as a surprise for Miriam (for entertainment purposes at the concert) but instead decided to leave it with Rachel, who had followed us out to the car in a last ditch effort to convince us to take her with us. She cheered up quite nicely after the colouring book was in her hands.

The drive to Roy was relatively uneventful but I think half the traffic on the freeway was going there. The auditorium was packed but we found some nice seats on the front row. We were hoping we'd be able to see Josie on stage, and we did. But only for a minute.

After the rest of the girls filed onto stage we had no hope of seeing her. I think two or three (and maybe even four) rows came to stand in front of Josie's row, which was already standing on the floor.

The choir sounded great though, considering they'd only been practicing altogether for two days. The men's choir sang first and then the women's choir and then they sang together. Most of their songs were slow and melodic, which was fine except that the man next to me kept falling asleep. I'm sure he wasn't the only one. The last song for each choir was a lively song but I think they should have had more.

When the combined choir sang, the boys came and stood right in front of us (because we were on the first row) while the girls remained on the stage. I'm not sure that was a great idea because the boys completely overpowered the girls (at least from our aural perspective). I think they should have had half the girls move onto the floor and had half the boy go up onto the stage...but that's just me.

Also, Josie's director instructed the kids to wear their choir robes but all the other schools had their students wear suits and dresses. Josie's school kind of stood out, but that's alright. Perhaps next year her teacher will let the kids just wear regular clothes.

Miriam wasn't too keen on visiting with Josie after the performance (she was getting sick, I think, so was a little grumpy) until Josie told her that she had to go onto the school bus to get her things. Miriam got to go on the bus with Josie and was thrilled to pieces about it.

Josie rode home with us and was so exhausted that she didn't say much—she'd been up since 6 AM after coming home from practice at 10 PM the night before. They'd been practicing nonstop for two days. I think she was happy to have the opportunity to sing and was equally as happy to have it all end.

Tonight's bedtime prayer

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 03:48:00 +0000

"Alright, Miriam. It's your turn to pray—go ahead. And remember to say something new," I prompted.

"Dear Father," she began, "Bless a day. Something new. And...Rachel it's not your turn! Stop folding your arms! It's not your turn to pray! Mom! Rachel's praying! It's my turn to pray! Hey! Hey! Hey! Stop that, Rachel!"

We're getting there.

Slowly.

But we're getting there.

Night soil

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 19:08:00 +0000

"Hold your hair back," I called out to Rachel as I ran from the bathroom gasping for breath. It was under the guise of getting a glass of water for her that I left her to throw up on her own.

I'm such a good mom.

I've dealt with enough throw up lately even though, admittedly, we've been given a decent break. I almost can't remember those six-ish weeks my girls took turns throwing up through November and December.

Just kidding. I remember it a whole lot. Worst first trimester ever!

I've yet to throw up due to pregnancy. I've thrown up while pregnant due to stomach flu or food poisoning but I have never thrown up just because I'm pregnant. And while that sounds nice enough it doesn't mean that I don't ever feel nauseated or that I lack a gag reflex (because I sure was gagging this morning while I took care of Rachel).

I was also gagging yesterday while I cleaned out Miriam's little potty. Whether she likes it or not (and she doesn't) I've been transitioning her to the big potty for the simple reason that I can't stand to empty her little potty anymore. The only times she uses it are when she takes herself or when her daddy takes her. And maybe I'll talk to him about being devoted enough to hold Miriam on the big potty because he doesn't like emptying her potty and usually leaves it for me to do and right now it's a chore that I can hardly get through.

We've been discussing human waste a lot lately, anyway.

Recently Andrew found out what projects he'll be helping with when he goes to Ghana. They work with the church every year (last year they did some research for the Perpetual Education Fund) and also help a non-profit organization with a project (last year they did some research on market hierarchies). This year their non-profit organization is SainTerre. They'll be helping to develop marketing strategies for the Soilet, "a simple, innovative and sustainable sanitation solution built in the developing world for the developing world. The Soilet digests human waste in a...mini ecosystem."

"Oooh, like PeePoople!" I said, when Andrew explained it to me.

I told you we discuss human waste a lot—not only do we have a potty-training two-year-old but we have a strong interest in developing countries. The topic of poop comes up...often.

SainTerre got second place in BYU's Social Venture Competition in 2009. Since their aim seems rather remarkable—potentially solving sanitation problems for 40% of the world—I asked Andrew who won first place. He said it was 2 ft Prosthetics, a company that makes affordable ($25) prosthetics, but he was mistaken—they didn't win until 2010. Still, they're both brilliant ideas and work to solve a very specific problem which I believe (and I think William Easterly would back me up on this) is a good thing. The things people think up are simply amazing.

So, in class, they discussed the Soilet at length—how it works, the worms needed to break down the solids, how long it takes, how you have to scrape out the compost in the end, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. All of it is sounding rather gross to me.

Then Andrew said, "And then Aaron asked the class to decide if they'd rather work with the church or with SainTerre. He asked everybody who wanted to work with the church to raise their hands..."

"And let me guess," I said, "Everybody raised their hands."

"No! Nobody raised their hand—everybody wanted to work with the Soilet!"

Andrew said he then explained that while they're in Ghana they'll get to do research for both teams and that what team they're on really only matters when they do the final write-up. So they were able to convince some people to stray from the Soilet to the church (with the promise that they'd be able to work with the Soilet as well).

When Andrew first decided to apply to return to Ghana I really wanted to tag along with him. Financially it wasn't feasible but I kept looking for a way to make it work, anyway. But then I got pregnant and the option of going to Ghana literally flew out of the window—the yellow fever vaccination is not recommended when you're pregnant and it's required to enter Ghana, unless you get a waiver from your doctor. However, pregnant women are particularly tempting to mosquitoes so they're at higher risk for getting bitten and thus contracting yellow fever and/or malaria, neither of which is particularly wonderful to get when you're pregnant, so the chances of getting a waiver during pregnancy is not particularly high, especially when the trip is not mandatory and I can avoid being exposed to pathogens simply by not going.

Besides, I'm not sure I could spend three weeks discussing how to create sanitary night soil without gagging the whole way through it.

Cookies and eggs

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 22:27:00 +0000

The girls were in the kitchen this morning making cookies with Grandma when Rachel decided she'd better pray over the cookies before eating one. This made Miriam quite upset since we'd already said family prayer and had prayed over our breakfasts but Grandma explained that it's okay to pray anytime about anything—even cookies.

So Miriam said a very thoughtful prayer of her own.

"Dear Father," she said, "Bless a day. Name of Jesus Christ—bless the cookies—amen!"

Usually she only ever thinks to say "bless a day" and we have to coax and prompt her to say anything else so the fact that she thought to add anything "extra" to her prayer at all was special.

Now that Andrew's back in school he misses out on a lot of our cooking endeavors—he isn't home for dinner on Tuesdays or Wednesdays, for example. Yesterday I made lentil soup since Diana said she was making lentil soup and that sounded good. Andrew came home and heated some up and then decided he wanted a little something to go along with it, so he opened the fridge and looked around.

There were three eggs that were sitting in the door, separated from their peers in the egg container, in what he figured was a very conspicuous manner. Obviously, he figured, these eggs were leftover hardboiled eggs from when his mom had made potato salad for the BYU kids. He took out an egg, walked over to the counter, and smacked it to break the shell. Much to his surprise (and disappointment) it was not a hardboiled egg.

Egg went everywhere.

He said, overall, that he's glad he decided to eat that tempting "hardboiled" egg at home because he had thought about throwing it in his nifty Star Wars lunchbox to take to school. And it just so happened that he had eaten lunch in class, which meant that he would have been smacking that egg on his desk to break the shell.

That would have been much more embarrassing and much more difficult to clean up, not to mention disruptive.

Somehow just thinking about it makes me giggle though.

I totally jumpstarted a car today

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 03:58:00 +0000

We had to jumpstart our car this morning. It's a good Sabbath morning activity, don't you think? I went into the kitchen with the girls to get breakfast and Karen said, "Did you see the note about the battery?"

"No," I said.

Then she told me that the green car wouldn't start so Reid had taken the van to work. Andrew was the last one to drive the green car and, for some reason, had turned the lights on...even though he had run down to campus for one class on Friday. He drove home at noon. Who turns their lights on at noon?

This is not the first time he's done this.

I went to find him and said, "You're in big trouble. The green car won't start."

So after he'd showered and gotten dressed for church (because—obviously—you should work on your car after you're in your Sunday best) he started to work on the car.

First he verified that the car wouldn't start. It wouldn't. Then he pulled his mom's car alongside the green car.

Meanwhile I researched how to jumpstart a car (because, truthfully, we've never done this successfully before—the last time he killed the battery he killed it good and we had to buy a new one).

Then Andrew looked for the booster cables.

"Where are the booster cables?" he asked.

And then I found the booster cables for him.

Then Andrew stood there holding the cables and looking confused.

So I said, "Red—positive. Black—negative. Go!"

And then he stood there looking confused.

So I said, "You seriously didn't research this before you started? Put the red clamp on the positive thing on the dead battery. Then put the other red clamp on the positive thing on the good battery. Then put the black clamp on the negative thing of the live battery and the other black clamp on the negative thing of the dead battery."

He did that.

It sparked a little.

"Now you turn on the good car and then I can't remember what you do."

I ran back inside to check.

Do not attach the black clamp on the negative thing of the dead battery, I read...or at least something along those lines, unless you want your car to explode.

I ran back outside.

"Stop!" I yelled. "We hooked it up wrong. The car might explode or something...we have to hook the black clamp to 'something metal' on the engine, not on the battery."

He quickly turned off the good car and then unhooked the black clamp. But then we couldn't figure out where to clamp it and suddenly became very nervous about accidentally exploding the car.

"Do you want me to call a man?" I asked Andrew.

"No," he said.

I went inside to call a man. Unfortunately the man I called wasn't at home but his wife volunteered to come and help us (thanks, Sister Gillespie). We showed her what we'd done and she told us that was all right. And then we said we were too scared to continue. So she told us to put the black clamp on the negative thing on the dead battery. And we told her that we read that it might explode. So she helped us find a metal part to clamp the last clamp onto (even though she said she'd started cars using the negative node of the dead battery before).

It sparked.

"That means it likes this spot," she assured us.

Then we turned on Karen's car. And Sister Gillespie told us to try the green car.

And the engine roared to life.

And we were all very happy.

And then it was time to remove the clamps.

"So we'll just take these off," Sister Gillespie said, yanking the clamps from the good battery.

I gasped—because I read that you have to take them off in reverse order—but nothing bad happened...so...maybe the whole process isn't as complicated as the internet makes it out to be.

We left the car running until we were ready to go to church so that the battery could fix itself and then we took the booster cables to church just in case it decided to die on us again. But so far, so good.

I totally jumpstarted a car today.

Another laugh

noreply@blogger.com (Nancy) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 05:11:00 +0000

I've actually been feeling incredibly sick today so Andrew's been putting me down for a lot of naps. Seriously. He let me sleep in this morning and then right after he put Miriam down for her nap this afternoon he came into our bedroom, turned off the light on me and shut the door. I came out of the room and said, "Uh, did you just put me down for a nap?"

"Yes, I did," he said.

"Sweet!" I said and went to lie down in our now-dark room.

And then he did homework and Rachel played with Littlest Pet Shops, which my friend Sara once lauded as being the very best toys in the whole world. I'll admit, I was skeptical (probably because when she told me this I only had one child who was still very much into swallowing small, inedible objects like Littlest Pet Shops accessories) but Grandma got some for Rachel for Christmas and they have already provided hours of entertainment. Hours. I don't know why she can sit and play with these little animals for hours without needing anyone to interact with her but she can. It's like magic.

Miriam and I got up from our naps at around 4:30. They were late naps because we went to the baptism and everything. Anyway, then I sat around trying to make a menu of meals for our poor family to eat (which I failed at miserably because I just don't feel good). Then it was dinnertime so I made a measly meal of sweet potato fries and apple slices and a motley assortment of leftovers that no one really touched. It was seriously the most pathetic meal I've "cooked" in a long time.

Grandma and Grandpa came upstairs and rescued my poor children by feeding them bagels with cream cheese. I couldn't bring myself to eat one.

Then I gave the girls a bath and then I let Andrew get them in their pyjamas while I slumped in my chair and did nothing and then we had scriptures and prayer.

I read a few verses and then said, "Okay, Rachel, your turn."

I put my finger under the words she was supposed to read.

"And..." she said. "Ummm...and...and...and...uhhhh..."

Yup. The first word was "and."

And—guess what!—my child can't exactly read yet. Duh.

I burst out laughing. Andrew did, too. And then the girls joined in, even though they had no idea why we were laughing.

"What's so funny?" Rachel squeaked out between giggles.

What's so funny is that Rachel can't read and I've known that for years (because she's my daughter and she's only four years old) and yet I somehow spaced that and expected her to just take her turn without prompting her at all. Usually I run my finger under the words and say them so that she can repeat them.

I don't know what I was thinking.

Probably I wasn't thinking.

But we all enjoyed the moment thoroughly.

And then I read Harry Potter to the girls for a half hour (interspersed with various board books that Miriam decided should be read to break up the monotony of novel-reading, which she's really too young to handle) and then finished up the evening with lullabies.

It was a good day.

And now I'm kind of hungry again because sweet potatoes and apples? Apparently those digest somewhat fast.