It's been three weeks since Asher broke our video camera. When we discovered it, I cried, heartbroken...how would we film all of his cute stages? Document the new baby? Preserve precious memories of us as a young family?
There's no happy ending here just yet...I'm still sad, and I don't think we'll be able to reinvest for a little while. Thankfully, I had just taped a few little Asher videos and uploaded them all to our computer before doomsday struck. So, SO happy we saved them before they were lost!
Here is the last surviving video from our ill-fated FlipCam, dated May 6th. It's of Asher playing around in the tub, while I prompt him to sing some of his favorite little songs. Grateful we'll always be able to go back and hear this sweet voice!
There. It's off my chest and now you know the truth.
But why must it be a confession? Why is it whenever the subject is broached, I always feel guilt mingled with shame? Is it wrong not to enjoy such a popular, wholesome activity?
Because here are my honest thoughts: I love nature. I love the smell of the campfire, roasting marshmallows, and the idea of sleeping under the stars. It's beautiful and romantic. But my, how I hate bugs. Especially ones that bite, suck blood, or big ones that crawl into my tent. And tents...I find them inferior to houses, and never sleep well in their care. Probably because I'm lying on the ground covered with my own sweat.
Pioneer I am not. I love running water, hot showers and clean toilets flanked with
fresh, soft toilet paper. I love my warm, cushy bed. And admitting this
makes me feel like a fussy princess, but hey - I gotta be me!
I'm bringing all this up because camping has been on my mind quite a LOT lately...Andrew was called to be Young Men's president earlier this year, which entails a good deal of scouting and camping. His first activity was a January campout called "The Freeze," wherein the boys camp WITHOUT TENTS to help learn survival skills. What??? Sounds like sadism to me.
Andrew loves to camp, and seemed to welcome the opportunity, but as he set off for what was sure to be hell (minus the benefit of heat), I wanted to cry. Would I ever see him again?
Andrew and I on our first camping trip together, before he realized what a priss he was marrying.
Then I was assigned to be our ward's Camp Director for Girl's Camp. In July. Eight months pregnant. Yikes. Should I have told them I have mild to moderate camping anxiety?
To be fair to myself, I think my distaste for temporary outdoor living is rooted in childhood experiences. My dad often took us camping as girls, but not normal camping. Civil War reenactment camping. That's right. Everything had to be period, which translates to uncomfortable. The smell of mildewing canvas is burnt into my memory, as is waking up shivering under damp quilts surrounded by daddy long legs.
Painful memories aside, I keep thinking about my aversion to spending a week in the wilderness, and wonder if it's okay, or if I need to readjust what's important to me. Again, the question: is disliking camping somehow wrong? Maybe, if it means you are too stuck up (or neurotic) to get outside and really enjoy God's green earth.
But maybe not. Maybe it really is just a simple matter of like versus dislike.
While Andrew and I were hanging out with another couple a few weeks ago, I confided all this slightly personal information. To my surprise, they shared my sentiment! They said not liking to camp was something they had to "confess" to each other too. Then they showed us the following Jim Gaffigan clip, which made me double over laughing and feel somehow vindicated.
Hilarious, right?
My sister just told me her friend from Ghana is completely confused by the idea of camping as a hobby. "Why would you do that? That is what poor people do."
So I'm starting to feel a little better. Still, I envy you women who are rugged, "cool" girls. Women whose husbands take them seriously as wilderness equals. Women who don't miss make up and face wash. Who are able to endure a few days of bad hygiene and really enjoy outdoor adventure. I want to be like you.
But can it be done? Is there time? Aside from our outdoorsy callings, the Steele Family Campout is just two weeks away. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something. Maybe I can get over myself, get a little dirty and learn to love this highly regarded pastime.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: low expectations are the key to life.
Due to the fact Andrew and I both have moms who celebrate their birthdays on or near Mother's Day (this year it was my mom who received double honors Sunday), we are pretty preoccupied with thinking about our own moms this time of year. So even though I've technically met the qualifications to receive Mother's Day recognition for a few years now, I still didn't expect to come downstairs to gifts and flowers.
I also didn't expect Andrew to wake up with Asher, bring me breakfast in bed, call his mom to find out how to make her roast, clean up after lunch, have me put my feet up and watch my new favorite show (Downton Abbey) with me, let me take a nap while he played with Asher, or surprise me with a pint of Graeter's Mint Chocolate Chip.
Honey, for the record, I love the 8 piece pyrex bowl set (truly, it was one of my heart's secret desires, and if that's not proof I'm a mom, I don't know what is). I loved the delicious lunch and the Gerbra Daisies. You know Kit Kats are my favorite, and that's why I destroyed the whole king size before the sun set. I loved all the thought and effort you put into making my Mother's Day special, when you SO didn't have to. I would have let you get away with a kiss and a card. :)
I love you, Andrew Steele! You are the most genuinely good, thoughtful, loving man, and I'm so grateful to share my two sweet little Mother's Day qualifiers with you.
Now, try not to take much of this to heart, and keep your expectations low for Father's Day. I have my work cut out for me! ;)
Being born and bred in Louisville, it's no wonder. Back home, May means picking horses, buying hats, hosting parties, and hanging rose garlands on front doors. Yes, it's totally unique, special, fun, and I love it.
So as the Run for the Roses approached, I wondered how Derby Day would be here in Columbus, where some people have never even heard of the event. I might be a sad island of Derby enthusiasm...I felt a touch melancholy to be away from home, where no one has to be convinced the Kentucky Derby is a big deal.
Then a mini miracle happened.
My friend Ally told me she was planning to host her first-ever Derby party. I about bubbled over with joy. She's actually been and loves it as much as I do. Glory be! And since her party was scheduled for a different night (she just recorded the race), Andrew and I decided a few days beforehand to have some friends from his program over to watch the fastest two minutes in sports as it aired.
It was pretty low-key...we ate, drew horses, picked our trifecta, let the kids play and had a good time watching those thoroughbreds run. I think we'll do it again next year, bigger and better!
Asher and his beloved Rob. Prizes on the mantle for the big winners!
Andrew indulges in a little Brazilian Lemonade - see our odds board in the background?
Andrew's incomplete baby gate group shot. I wasn't ready. :)
Okay, and here are pictures from Ally's ladies only Derby Party. Girlfriend knows how to throw a party!
I keep meeting these people out here who are incredibly talented and inspiring in so many ways...Ally has to be at the top of the list! Everything was ADORABLE and so much fun. Glad she's a photographer (among other things), and could capture it all so beautifully.
Ally and sweet Harper. The little hat was too much to handle!
I had to ask her to leave.
I left my hat on our kitchen counter...luckily someone had 8 extras. ;)
Last Thursday morning, we took a trip to the fire station with some church friends. It was really cute to see Asher go nuts over everything! Per usual, my pictures weren't great, but at least we snapped a few to remember the day by.
Love at first sight
Whoa...
Hi! I'm Asher and this is my fake smile.
All together
Revelation: holding Asher is no longer easy and cute.
As a sergeant held the door for us on our way out, Asher said, "Thank you, fire man!" Love that boy.
Here are more Asherisms from the past couple weeks. You have to imagine a two-year-old saying them... it almost seems unnatural. Anyway, even if these aren't cute and funny to anyone else, I want to record them! I've already forgotten too much. Enjoy!
As Mommy is in the passenger's seat, and Daddy is buckling him into his car seat:
"Hey! Where's my driver?"
While playing in the tub, as I attempt to begin washing his hair:
"No, Mommy! I'm busy right now!"
Daddy: "Asher, do you want a bite?"
Asher: "No."
Daddy: "You don't want a bite?"
Asher (hesitating): "No - yes. Yes I do want one."
Mommy: "Asher, look! The baby's kicking!"
Asher (scowling, lifting his foot in the air): "I kick the baby!!"
Asher on Ouchies:
Lately, when Ash Man accidentally hurts himself, he angrily runs to tattle on the culprit: "Mommy, Asher hurt me!"
We let him watch the famous YouTube video "Charlie Bit My Finger," a month or two ago, and all of a sudden, any time he gets a small ouchie, he says to himself in a British accent, "Ouch, Chah-lay!"
During a science center visit a few days ago, Asher and I were in a bathroom stall together during a potty training episode. He'd told me he needed to go, but acted a little reluctant upon seeing the dirty porcelain giant he was to use. Now, I don't know what motivated his next move - but it sure threw me for a loop.
He slapped his own bare bottom a couple times so it made a noise, then shouted, "Stop hitting me, Mommy!", so every stranger in the busy restroom could hear.
My jaw dropped open. When did my kid turn evil?
I don't know if he really wanted to make people believe I was beating him, but the act sure scared me. He wasn't angry with me, and has never done anything in that shrewd, deceptive fashion before or since, so I'm chalking it up to a slightly bored, uncomfortable toddler's attempt at creating a diversion. Please let me be right. Please.
Asher on Gender Confusion:
"I'm a girl!"
"I'm so, so, pretty!"
Mommy: "You're a big, strong boy!"
Asher: "Mommy's a big, strong boy too!
Mommy: "Pull up your underwear!"
Asher: "I pull up my panties!"
Mommy (trying to steer him away from the term): "Are those your underwear?"
Asher: "No, these are my panties!"
I love this child! He brings so much laughter to our days!
