Dirty Diapers and Preschool Jokes

Preston finally started walking a few weeks ago! Which is to say, he's capable of taking 6 or 7 steps but still crawls most of the time.

He is 15 months old...and getting super heavy to carry around (cut to us after church yesterday - Andrew had a meeting, so I was carrying 3 big bags, a scripture case, the nursery snack container and 28 pounds of man child encased in a puffy winter coat. Poor Asher tripped and fell in the snow trying to keep up. I felt bad, but since I was on the verge of dropping everything, just shot him a big smile, said, "You're alright!" and kept walking). So his mobility is quite welcome.

Until I'm trying to change his diaper.  Then I wish he was a paralytic.

Preston's outgrown his changing table, so we're in the stage of diaper changes on the ground.  For someone who's a little obsessive about floors, the experience of removing a feces-filled bundle from a writhing child over carpet is slightly stressful.  Although almost always without incident.  Anyway, a couple days ago I was in the process of changing Preston, who per usual, was rolling away like a tumbleweed with a train to catch. Asher was on the scene in order to perform his ritual shaming: 

"Oh no, Preston! No!!" 

(shakes his head and purses his lips with mock concern)

"You have to learn to go poo poo on the toilet, like me!"

"I'm a big boy, but Preston isn't." 

I'll often have Asher try to distract Preston with silly tricks, and this day, exasperated, blurted out, "Asher, tell Preston a joke!"

Of course, I didn't really expect him to.  He's three.  But to my surprise, without missing a beat, he said,  "Why do chickens sit on their eggs? (pause) 

Me: "Why?"

Asher: "Because they don't have any chairs!"

Hahaha, what??  I had no idea where he'd heard that.  Maybe not the best joke, but it was so cute and well delivered.  I suspect that little guy will keep us laughing our whole lives long.

Cannot imagine life without these two boys!

P.S. Edgy alternate title for this post: "Sh**s and Giggles".  Too bad I'm so darn classy. 

Dream a Little Dream

Anyone who thinks being a stay-at-home mom is easy has never been one.  My days are filled with dirty diapers, runny noses, temper tantrums, public humiliation, skinned knees, scattered toys, sippy cups and snack requests.  I constantly tend to the basic needs of two little boys, and beyond that, labor to see they are being played with, read to, kept clean, taught, taken out, tickled, hugged, and kissed.  The days are long, the nights are short, and usually punctuated with the cries of a distressed child.  There are always errands to run, meals to make, messes to clean, laundry to be done. Where is the fabled couch-sitting, bon bon-eating housewife? I could use her help.

Caring for our children is a joy. I love it.  Homemaking may not win society’s esteem, but nowhere are my efforts more important now than here with my family. While I am deeply grateful to be afforded the luxury of nurturing our children during these tender years, I do have life goals outside the home.  For nearly a decade, my dream has been to obtain my master’s and doctoral degrees in order to become a college professor when our children start school.  Most days found me wondering about how and when I’d obtain my education.  But “someday" thinking never satisfies.

I must have bemoaned this fact to Andrew one too many times, because he filled out the request for more information about master’s degrees primarily done online. It might have been a harried attempt for peace more than an act of love, but either way, I’m glad he did it.  Otherwise, I’d likely still be in a holding pattern within my comfort zone.

I started my master's degree in Communication Management through Gonzaga University in March and will graduate around the same time Andrew does in the spring of 2015. So I'm about a third of the way through. The realization life only gets busier really compelled me to knock it out now while I still only have two children who both nap (plus Preston also takes a morning nap while Asher is in school...score). I figure they sleep roughly 28% of my waking hours, so I have to make good use of this time! I want to be prepared and qualified to take care of our family in case something ever happens to Andrew. I want to use my mind and become a more substantive person, better able to contribute to my family and community someday.

Over the past few years I have developed a deep admiration and respect for all good women. Rather than feeling divided by faiths, cultures, career choices, parenting styles, etc., I feel closer to others knowing that life is hard for everyone, and we're all just doing our best.

We all have different paths and this is mine. It has been really stressful at times, and I have struggled to find balance between school, family, church, friends, fitness, etc. But I have learned to rely more completely on my Savior, better manage my time, and appreciate more fully what a wonderful, giving husband I have who always picks up my slack. He is such a beautiful constant in my life....and is never more beautiful than when seen cleaning up dinner, bathing children, or putting away laundry I have neglected for a week. I love that man. 

So here's to working towards dreams, and the people in our lives who make achieving them possible.

Gratitude Frontier Style

I have a lot of friends who are good about posting something they're grateful for every day of November.  I don't really have the social media presence for that. Still, I've been thinking a lot about little things I'm especially thankful for this time of year, and thought it would be nice to list a few. I have a big-time habit of thinking about early settlers and pioneers and the contrast between our experience and theirs. These items stem from those musings.

Image from Google.com

1) Fleece sheets. It was 10 degrees outside last night, and our over-the-garage bedroom is always pretty  chilly. I picture a drafty log cabin on the same sort of night and think of shivering atop a straw-stuffed mattress beneath thin, musty quilts. As I crawl onto our pillow top queen with snugly soft sheets that smell of Downy, I realize I am living the life of a princess.

2) Food that actually tastes good. I made a batch of pumpkin chocolate chip bread yesterday, and eating a piece warm out of the oven, thought, "This probably tastes better than anything an early settler ever ate in their entire lives." Not that I'm some great cook...there's just only so much you can make with cornmeal, lard, and squirrel meat.

 3) Christmas music. I have learned pre-Thanksgiving Christmas music is a very polarizing topic. Some people are intensely devoted to keeping Christmas outside of November, but we're okay with a little preseason spirit around here. Anyway, if settlers wanted to hear music, they had to make it themselves, spy on neighboring cabins, or sponsor an event featuring local talent - which is always a gamble.

4) Hot water heaters. Our boys love baths, and get them even when they're not really dirty. I think about a frontierswoman with a brood of dirt-crusted kids who had to heat water over a fire to bathe her little ones in what soon becomes a tepid tub of filth. And I'm sure the water didn't always get heated...can you imagine wrangling screaming children into a cold bath? A hot shower is a simple pleasure I don't take for granted.

5) Body wash, toothpaste, and deodorant. Because sometimes you want to smooch your man with the confidence you smell better than the livestock.

6) Washers/dryers/microwaves/dishwashers/refrigerators/vacuums, etc. I love them all so much. I wonder if  matronly homesteaders ever fantasized about these sorts of devices as their hands cracked and bled doing laundry in the cold creek. I push my buttons in their honor.

7) Our reliable cars. Olden day folk had to mount (or hitch up) an animal if they wanted to go into town. Or walk. Which wouldn't be so bad if they weren't wearing such terrible footwear. Pieces of leather and raw hide cobbled together offers little in the way of cushion or arch support. You know those things gave crazy blisters! Which leads me to our next item:

8) Comfortable shoes and clothing.  I bet there were some good homespun offerings, but not THAT good. Your lumpy wool sweater may be warm, but it itches and is likely ill-fitting. Give me cotton polyester blends produced by the professionals in Malaysia.

9) TOILET PAPER.

10) Communication technology. I get that technology is a double edged sword, but the ability to send reliable messages and talk face-to-face with family living thousands of miles away is pretty incredible. True, the pony express may have enjoyed a better reputation than the U.S. Postal Service, but before these were well established, correspondence had to be one slow, miserable headache wrought with doubt and uncertainty. Is William a bad letter writer, or was he trampled by buffalo? Meanwhile, I get annoyed when Andrew doesn't text me back.

I could write a long list of why our predecessors were better off than we are, but instead I'll just revel in the incredible comforts and conveniences the 21st century affords. HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Master P: Full Throttle

Preston is 15 months old today! I am blown away by the fact that at the very beginning of last year, Asher was technically 1, and Preston was just a glob of cells. Even though time is moving fast, I have quickly forgotten the implications of having a mobile child who wants to experiment and discover, but doesn't understand English. This is a post from when Asher was Preston's age. And while Asher had just turned 2 when this doosie happened, Master P has already created a similar scene.

Preston's little personality seems to be blossoming at high speed all of a sudden...and by personality, I really mean attitude. This boy has always been the sweet, easy type of baby who only cries when he's tired, hungry, or cutting a tooth. Once highly agreeable, his own little will seems much more defined lately. He gives off the air of an early colonist who wants to declare independence, but stays his hand for fear the motherland will put a trade embargo on goldfish. He needs us for now.

Our number two has a problem with talent for biting and hitting, which are excellent skills for settling the savage-filled new world......oh wait, Asher is the only person he sees. Poor, peace-loving big brother is often the object of Preston's non-malicious, albeit aggressive exploration. It can be painful.

The silver lining for Asher comes from watching me scold someone who, miraculously....isn't him. The following scene unfolds on a regular basis: I hear an incensed shriek from the play area, and drop what I'm doing to find Asher with a wet, indented ring on his arm. As I approach, Preston looks up with eyes full of exhilarated delight at the taste of human flesh, and continues the assault by repeatedly smacking his brother.  He is full of joy throughout the attack. I storm over and reprimand a most innocent-looking guilty party, and catch sight of a suppressed smile playing at the lips of the victim. Finally: Asher has a companion with whom to split my wrath. There's a new bottom in the time out chair.

"I'm not in trouble! HE is!"

Here are some images from Preston's birthday celebration with my family - three months and four teeth ago.

We'll have to learn how to navigate this independent streak and love of playful violence.

And this face will continue to ensure we fail at being too stern.

The Boys: Everything You've Wanted to Know

These little boys make life so full. I keep saying to Andrew - "Are we not SO lucky?!" We get less sleep, have more messes to clean up, more laundry to do, more noise to quiet, and I have food and human tears in my hair right now, but we are totally living the dream. Seriously grateful for this family of ours.

 

And since these little men are are always changing so quickly, I thought I'd record what they are like at this moment in time.

 Can't believe how big Asher looks here

Asher...

- Is three and a half, but really seems four.

- Enjoys school, can write his name, and LOVES sounding out words.

- Has daily fights with a kid named Jacourion (sp?) over sitting on the "A". Reminds us that "Jacourion is NOT my best friend."

- Continues to have a wild imagination.

- Has started saying "Yes ma'am" and "Yes sir" after just one family home evening lesson on speaking kindly   a few weeks ago. We'll take it.

- Loves playing Angry Birds

- Sings the pop songs "Everybody Talks" by Neon Trees, and "Gone, Gone Gone," by Phil Philips. The latter he divides into alternating parts and tells me which he'll sing and which I'll sing.

Belting it out

- Has a ridiculous memory.
- Loves bath time with Preston, but freaks out if P migrates to "his spot" next to the faucet. He insists little brother occupies the "caboose." When I take Preston out of the tub, always shouts, "Don't take Preston! He's my best friend!"
- Still takes an afternoon nap
- Loves the show Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood (kind of an updated tribute to Mr. Rodger's Neighborhood - we love it)
- Continues to love his snowman blanket from great grandma Yvonne
- Is obsessed with Subway, of all places. We never go there, but he notices every time we pass one. "MOM! A SUBWAY!!! Can we go to that place sometimes?" Andrew and I ate Subway 5 times a week in college, so *dry heave*...maybe.
- Has a preoccupation with things on the right. Example: I hand him half a sandwich, and he looks at it uncertainly and asks, "Is that the one on the right, or left?" If I answer left, he shakes his head, waves his arm and says, "No thank you, I just want the one on the right."
- Despises being called "bud." Prefers to we call him "sport".



Preston...
- Is 14 months old....but really seems 9 months. In fifth grade, I distinctly remember my friend saying about a boy in our class, "He can talk the talk, but he can't walk the walk." She was wearing a Taz sweatshirt, but I believed her anyway. Preston also talks the talk...among other things, he says "hi", "ball", "eyes", "more", "that", "car", and "gentle." But he still doesn't walk the walk. He crawls, climbs and has begun standing, but seems to be in little danger of walking soon. We have decided to post pone a full blown freak out until he's18 months (although I realized Andrew and I were talking about it too much when on our walk yesterday, Asher asked, "What's 'gross motor'?"), and are enjoying not being in the bumps and bruises stage.
- Is a fantastic eater. Current favorites are carrots, cheerios, blueberries and broccoli.
- Has the sweetest way of always laying his head down on you.
- Thinks everything is funny - especially Asher.
- Says, "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" when something novel presents itself.
- Loves to color and usually even holds a crayon the right way.

 

- Steals my phone and face times people who I know to varying degrees. We were in a study group together 6 years ago? Thought you might like to see me with no make up and meet my family.
- Is very interested in tools and how things work.
- Likes to re-do what he undoes and put things away (plugging things back in, putting blocks back in their bucket, etc.). Somewhere there's a baby girl who's going to be very happy someday. 
- Is super cuddly
- Loves "driving" toy cars around, throwing balls, flipping switches, and pushing buttons
- Always wants to go outside.
- Could play with an open dishwasher for hours.
- Is very into feeding you, and is not fooled by fake bites. He will not relent until he sees you are actually chewing that mucus covered banana.
- Still thinks mommy hung the moon.
- Loves giving open mouthed kisses, preferably on the lips
- Doesn't know his own strength. It's tricky, because one second you're enjoying a tender moment with your baby, and the next he's head butted you so hard you can't remember your zip code and need cosmetic dentistry.
- Will let you wipe his nose and even tries to blow.
- Has a talent for accessorizing - actually likes to wear hats, sunglasses, etc. The other day I heard giggling coming from my room and found he had gotten into my jewelry, made a headdress out of a necklace, then began laughing wildly at his new reflection.

- Loves playing with mommy's make up. Gets visibly upset when it's taken away.

 

  Sweetest brothers sharing a chocolate shake

This is what our happiness looks like. They make every day so much brighter.

Halloween 2K13

Halloween is a holiday I either dread or look forward to each year, depending on whether or not I've thought of our costumes. I would say "we", but finally realized this year that Halloween costumes are ultimately my responsibility. Andrew is a fantastic sport and will always play along, but will never start the "So what should we be this year?" conversation. I think this is due to the fact he's a man.

We've had some costume fun for several years now, thanks to Andrew's mullet (see montage below), but trying to think of inexpensive costumes for a family of four that coordinate AND incorporate the hairpiece is a tall order.

Here is what we came up with this year...I brainstormed this idea in bed one night and started laughing so hard as I imagined Andrew that I woke him up. 

A cop, convicts, and our back of loot. We had everything already but the orange jumpsuits (which came with handcuffs), plastic badges (one dollar for a four pack!) and fake money to pin onto Preston's re-purposed potato sack. We wore these to our ward's Fall Festival a few weeks ago, and people literally did not recognize Andrew. He looked like the world's sketchiest investigator. I dared him to go running along the side of the road in this get up, but he was too scared the police dispatchers would get slammed with calls.

Asher loved being a police man. He is at this magical age where he isn't insisting on being a superhero, and will basically get excited about whatever we tell him he's going to be. Bad parents?

 Preston has no idea what's going on. So it's perfect.

The night of Halloween, it was super blustery and rainy. I had to bring our jack o lanterns inside because the wind kept blowing them out. Andrew got home late from clinic, after [the dedicated] kids had already been trick or treating for a while. This was actually great, because Asher LOVED getting to had out candy to trick or treaters. Anytime there was a lull, he'd ask "Are more kids gonna come, mom?"

When Andrew finally arrived, he threw on his costume, we snapped a few quick pics, then we divided and conquered. He and Preston headed in costume to Chipotle to get $3 "Booritos" for our dinner, and I took Asher trick or treating around the neighborhood. Last year we had similar bad weather, and so I kept then-baby Preston indoors most of the night while Andrew and Asher collected sugar from strangers. It was fun to take a turn.

Honestly, it was such a good time. I love to see my child get so excited, knock on friends' doors, and meet new neighbors. We only stayed out for a half hour, then headed home to eat our discounted dinner. Andrew bolted to use a free haircut coupon (he'd been keeping his hair long to enhance the appearance of his mullet :) that expired that night, at a place that closed in 25 minutes. Asher got to pick 3 treats ("because I'm 3 years old!"), and we did a quick bath and bedtime routine. 

Then I assessed our candy situation. I realized I am a giant idiot for buying Snickers and Kit Kats (my favorites) to hand out.  As I noticed the six empty wrappers next to me and felt disgusting, I vowed to go the Bit O Honey route next year.

 Preston holding up a sucker in his skeleton PJ's - I love how slimming they are.

And behold, a mullet montage of our costumes in years past. The shotgun wedding, Russian gymnasts, NASCAR fans, and convicts. 

We love Halloween. 

But will dread it until we think of our costumes for next year. Let me know if you have any suggestions. :)

Color Me Old

So my body is breaking down. The decent into old age has begun, as evidenced by my grouchiness toward street youths, joint pain, and love of hard candies.  But I've decided not to surrender without a good struggle...I am dedicated to slathering my face in creams, eating foods that grew on a plant, and to staying active. 

I like to run. Traditionally I do it in an effort to be less fat, but lately, what's motivated me more than anything else is the thought that someday I might not be able to run. At least not without hurting a lot later. So I want to soak up the feeling of my own legs carrying me swiftly (or not so swiftly) anywhere I please.

I do not aspire to ever run a 26.2 mile marathon, but I did a half a couple years ago that I enjoyed and would do again. I'd never run any other race, so conference weekend, ran a little 5K with some friends. I only went on a couple runs to "train," but I am always really good about carbo loading every day in case something like this comes up. Have you heard of Color Me Rad? It's the race where people throw color bombs (dyed corn starch) at you throughout the course, and everyone gets completely hyped up about it like it's the best thing to ever happen to them. 

I was surprised to discover I don't own a white t-shirt...so had to borrow a giant ugly one from Andrew the morning of.

 It was pretty fun...and they did a good job of pumping you up beforehand by blasting Zumba music and having pro dancers going crazy onstage. I love to dance, and do it almost involuntarily anytime the music is right. But when someone took a secret cell phone video of me busting a move - I mean, really going for it - then posted it to our Relief Society Facebook page, I realized I was not a gifted dancer. Like...at all. 

Suddenly I felt pretty good about old age robbing me of my ability to move.