QAPTAIN MOMMYPANTS

Gotta Share!

2012-01-28T13:39:00.002-07:00

My cousin Chela shared a link to THIS ARTICLE, and I love it. I'm not even finished reading it, and I love it.

January Creation

2012-01-28T12:40:00.000-07:00

January Creation:

I actually made these paperdolls when I was 14 or 15, and the coolest thing about them is that they're double sided. As 3D as paperdolls can get-- their backs are finished, and the clothes I made for them have two sides that connect with slits and tabs. It was all very satisfying to make them, and even though I knew I was "too old" for paperdolls, I loved the process. My little sister and I had fun playing with them, too-- we have fond memories of the stories we made up, laughing so hard we cried. There was one more paperdoll that seems to have vanished; my first attempt at a man...he was hideous, and we cracked up whenever we played with him.

So for Christmas, I made copies of these dolls and laboriously recut them out, along with several outfits and way too many hairstyles (I went crazy and did every single hair color for every single style when I first made these dolls...but seriously, green hair? I'll pass this time). But I have only yet given them to one niece and my youngest sister-in-law...hope they like them!

Here's an example of a clothed paperdoll with her wig of choice:

By the Way...

2012-01-28T12:02:00.003-07:00

If you read this in Reader, you're missing out! I've changed the setup of my blog. Check it out!

And pretty soon, I'm going to have to make a new header doodle...Ender's no longer a baby, and he's not the only kid anymore! So I'll invite you Google Reader faithfuls to come see.

I love to read blogs on their actual blog pages. It makes it more individual, more blog-like. In Google Reader, I feel like I'm reading a mass email or something. It's just not as fun. Or as pretty. The look of a blog has a lot to do with the content, I feel. Maybe I put too much into it, but I really enjoy seeing the different styles across different blogs.

I think Reader is boring. :D

December Creation

2012-01-28T11:56:00.000-07:00

December Creation (2011):

Michael and I were shopping at Burlington Coat Factory when we saw some really cool paintings.
I thought "I could do that..." and took pictures with my phone.
Those pictures sat in my phone for about 6 months before I finally did something about them.
Maybe it's weird to paint pictures of ladies as a Christmas present for my husband, but we love these. And I'm excited, inspired, and a little proud that I actually could do that...

So I completely copied these. And I guess that's naughty...? How does that work? I will never sell them or pretend they're my idea. Plus, I'd totally flaunt the artist's name if I could have read her signature...so it's not totally my fault, right? I even did a Google Image Recognition Search, and all I got was models in blue cocktail dresses. And one more thing: I know these are not expertly framed. I know that. I have to swallow my pride in showing the world that these are wrinkly pictures in poorly-fitted frames. The paper is an awkward size (18" x 13"), we can't afford custom frames, and I'm so new at watercoloring that the paper wrinklage was unavoidable.
I have read how to fix it, and I will...but for now, this project is finished.

One Saturday, when Michael would be at work all day, I realized it was probably my last chance to do this very secretly for Michael. Scarlett graciously took a 3-hour nap, and I worked in a mad rush. She awoke just as I finished cleaning up my mess.

I printed my shoddy phone pictures across four computer pages each. I taped those together and then taped each picture on our living room window. Then I taped a sketching paper over each one. I sketched like mad while the winter light dwindled.

When I finished sketching, I sat down to practice some watercolor techniques. Years ago, my Aunt Vicki taught me how to paint darling little flower wreaths and delicate flower vines climbing stone walls. This would be different, I knew. And I couldn't find my professional watercolor paintset, sadly. So I used a little set from Germany that originally belonged to my little sister.
After sketching and after painting, I hairsprayed the pictures. Yes, I did. I know it's kind of weird, but I learned that trick from someone who did it to their sketches to prevent smearing. I probably overdid it, but it actually really helped to "set" everything.

I cleaned up all evidence and hung the paintings to dry with magnet clips in the furnace closet (a terrible place!) and prayed that Michael wouldn't suddenly decide he needed to look in there.
The next day, while we were wrapping presents, I zipped between the furnace closet and my desk and pressed the paintings flat in my sketchbook. Then, I took advantage of a few tiny minutes when Michael went to buy tape or something, and I rolled the paintings under a wrapping paper tube. We packed that tube with our presents when we left for my parents' home, and Michael just thought I was being weird and bringing my own wrapping paper. So he thought nothing and said nothing.
:)
I'm so tricky, right?

I learned so much from copying these pictures. I don't know exactly what, but I saw inside the artist's work in how she got this look. It was so exciting to mimic and feel enlightened. I felt like a student. I even feel like it opened a doorway into that method and style so that I can execute my own ideas of this sort.

Faith

2012-01-21T16:51:00.003-07:00

My middle name is Faith.

I've always loved it.

Even to the point of protecting it.

Once, in 6th grade, some friends of mine were guessing middle names, and I gave them a hint that mine started with an "F." They had a hard time coming up with something, so I teased them that it was Fredericka. They were convinced, though! So when I busted up laughing and told them the truth, they weren't sure they could believe me. A nickname grew out of it all, and they started affectionately calling me Fred. I loved it. I loved being special enough to have a silly nickname, and I loved the idea that my middle name was still...safe.

Having the middle name Faith has been interesting for helping me learn about myself. Sometimes I felt shy to admit to people that it was my middle name, because I knew the story my parents told about it; while pregnant, my mother felt that I had a lot of faith, or that I would help the family with my faith. It was important enough to her and my papa to stray from tradition and give a daughter a middle name (something my parents didn't otherwise bother with for girls).

I never wanted anyone to think I was better than they just because I had my significant middle name.

So I protected it (lovingly). I simply kept it private.

But for whatever reason, the door's open today. My talking tap is on.

I do have faith. And even though I know it's tiny in many ways, it's also what helps me to live an optimistic life. My faith helps me to change my attitude and perspective. My faith helps me not to worry. My faith makes me happy. While making dinner tonight, I've been wondering what specific kind of faith it is that's behind everything else. I figured it out while comparing my relationship with my papa to my relationship with my Heavenly Father.

I commented on one of my sister's posts written on my papa's birthday. Without thinking much on it, since it's simply the truth, I said that I grew up feeling like I was my papa's favorite daughter. Yet somehow, I knew that each of my sisters was also his favorite daughter. And I was utterly content with this knowledge. I was aware that it didn't make much sense literally, but I knew it was true.

I've come to realize that I feel the same way about Heavenly Father. Every time I pray or receive a priesthood blessing--or simply notice something beautiful in nature that is surely there for my pleasure--I feel that Heavenly Father absolutely loves me. The most wonderful thing about that? He also absolutely loves you.

Each one of us. So dearly, so wholly.

Having faith that Heavenly Father loves you is...healing. It gives you the strength to understand yourself, the bravery to become better, and the comfort you need as you learn to forgive yourself.

Just trying to believe it will help the sense of love bloom in your heart. He loves you.

He loves you.

And the more you understand that, the more you will feel blessed and happy and full of love for everyone...including yourself.

November Creation

2012-01-20T15:55:00.001-07:00

November Creation (2011):

Mickey Mouse

Christmas present for Becca

(daughter of Abby, who blogs here)

Becca absolutely loves Mickey Mouse, so I really wanted to try my hand at it.

I had to improvise a lot, but it was very fun and rewarding!

October Creation

2012-01-20T15:51:00.003-07:00

October Creation (2011):

Kitty Princess

Christmas present for Savanna

(sister of Jaxon, see previous post)

This girly kitty came with a purse that can open and hold little things.

She also came with instructions for how to make a shoebox castle.

I wish I could have made the castle for Savvy too!!!

September Creation

2012-01-20T15:40:00.003-07:00

Yes, I did still do it! I just didn't blog about it. :) So here it comes in a bundle!

September Creation (2011):

Blizzard the Lizard

***

Christmas present for Jaxon

(son of Rae, who took this picture and blogs here and here).

Blizzard is a superlizard. He has a cape and even superman undies (every superhero needs those).

He came with a cityscape to fly over and a flaming blanket to rest on.

He was so fun to make!

A Lesson Long-Awaited

2012-01-20T11:35:00.002-07:00

Growing up, we always had the option of using whole wheat; it was just part of our food storage. It took a little work with our old fashioned hand mill, but I never considered its value beyond that.
After getting married and starting a family, I began to feel like wheat flour was a luxury. I never bought it because it was expensive, and I was afraid it would go bad before I had used it all. I never bought the wheat berries because I never had something to grind the wheat with. I'm sure I had friends who could have helped, but the idea of wheat just loomed in front of me like some inaccessible wealthiness I'd have to keep waiting for.

I got my Blendtec blender just over a week ago, and I've used it every day without exception. The most exciting thing I've used it for? Grinding wheat. I bought an enormous bucket yesterday and easily spent an hour with my cookbooks, planning out new recipes to try with wheat.
So this morning? I made whole wheat pancakes. Ground the wheat right with the ingredients. Well worth the trouble it took to pry the lid off my wheat bucket (I'll just say it was excruciatingly hard and took the length of Michael's shower). My fingers still hurt.

I feel like such a good wife and mommy...I fed my family wheat! I have been making them green smoothies! I have been making dinner every night for two weeks (minus two nights we ate out, but that was planned). I still haven't used (or found) flax seed or agave nectar or metjool dates (erm, no thanks), but we eat quite well. And I feel so happy to be providing for my family in that way.

It was never as obvious before, but I've noticed: we are all happier. Ender doesn't have tantrums anymore, besides the occasional struggle when he's emotional because it's bedtime and he's SO ready (and SO doesn't want it). Scarlett hasn't seemed frustrated at all with our nursing, which could have been from teething except that I'm convinced her teething is worse than ever right now-- and our nursing is going as well as it ever has. I haven't had to worry about my milk supply even while I've been sick, tired in the extreme, or suffering through a monster period. To me, that's a huge deal. I'm pretty sure Michael has felt better, too. :) He's always wonderful.

So, another thing to admit? I feel like it has taken me the nearly 5 years we've been married to really figure out daily dinner.
Oh, I feel sheepish.
There are unmarried girls who seem to have the hang of it already, and some married women who are extremely dedicated in making meals when it's all for them and their husband-- no kids to feed yet! I went through spells where I managed to make it happen for a week, and then I fell off my menu plan and got stuck again with last-minute, late dinners made of...stuff.
And I always let myself feel bad for it. I wanted to hide the fact that I wasn't good at it. I insisted that I was a good cook---when I cooked. I never really mentioned it except in passing, as an off-the-hand, laughable thing. I was pretty embarrassed. Because it meant so much to me.
There are probably a number of things that came together for me to feel the change going on. And I want to share them, because they're applicable to anyone who has ever felt the way I did, I think.

Your worth is not tied to your baking. Yes, I feel good when I make meals for my family--I feel REALLY good. But I should not beat myself up if I don't make meals for my family.
I figured this out watching The Blind Side. It struck me both as funny and sweet that the wealthy mother never cooked homemade meals. The movie is wonderful for so many reasons, and it stuck with me for a long time. That little detail about the mom just swam around in my head until I finally got it. She was a good mother, even though she never made homemade meals. And I think that even our society (as in, along with the culture of the Church) shoves it into our heads that homemade means you care. Once I realized what is possibly very obvious for everyone else, that you can be an excellent mother without ever learning to cook, I felt less pressure.
Dinner can be easy--I mean really, dinner doesn't have to be exciting. You don't have to have a lot of side dishes (or any, some nights). As long as it's food, call it dinner. The idea is developing the habit of mealtime. So even if it's one of those embarrassing assortments of whatever was hidden in the back of the fridge when you've needed to go grocery shopping for a long time, the meal is happening. Who cares what the meal is.
I probably learned this more completely when we lived with Michael's family. When dinnertime came, people had to eat. So even if things had been chaotic that day, Michael's mom stopped wondering about dinner and just threw it together. Sometimes we had grilled cheese sandwiches, sometimes breakfast-for-dinner. It didn't matter. And before living with the family, I had always thought Michael's mom made Sunday Dinner every night.
I do wish I had been more helpful. At the same time, I wasn't the same back then-- "dinner" was still daunting to me, and the idea of making dinner for a large family (not to mention my HUSBAND's family) made me feel really nervous. I tried to fight that, and even though I didn't come around all the way, I learned a lot.
It helps to make a comprehensive plan that extends over a week or more, but even if you don't do that, think about dinner in the morning. Perhaps while you shower or make breakfast or do dishes. Try to at least have dinner decided before the middle of the day. Sometimes, if I feel like I won't be able to make up my mind, I decide on a back-up dinner (something boring but easy that I KNOW I can do), and then the stress of a deadline is gone so I can feel at ease while I wonder what I'd really like to make for dinner.
I learned that recently while using a menu plan. I woke up thinking "today we'll be having soup!" I felt excited about it. Then, on days that I didn't really want to do whatever was on the menu, I knew early on in the day, so changing it wasn't a big deal. One more thing: if I wasn't excited about dinner but never thought of a different meal, I made what was on the menu anyway. THAT was helpful, too.

That's all. Is that helpful even for you women who seem to have it all organized??? ;) (I know, what others see is rarely the whole picture).

Well, my kitchen smells like whole wheat flour. My tummy is full. Ender had TWO helpings of pancakes and was sad when I put the leftovers away. Michael had two servings. I'm just blown away!

I even had an extra (read third) serving, which might not be so awesome. And now that Scarlett is dozing in my arms, I will clean up the dishes. With a smile-- I want to do it. (Oh! So maybe all those years I never minded dishes, I should have realized that the women who made meals every day probably dreaded dishes...)

This is a happy sight to me because it means we ate together.
We had a yummy meal!
Dishes are just a reminder that I fed my family.

I Did All That?

2012-01-14T18:01:00.000-07:00

Superwoman isn't the one in the high heels looking awesome while she does her house chores.
That's just...I don't know, Incurably Cheerful Woman or something.
No...this is Superwoman:

"I did all that?"

Superwoman is the one who does it all without getting angry even though she's so tired it's painful to keep her eyes open. Plus, she's on her period and dealing with a cold that is making her voice all crazy.
Yet somehow (how?!), she managed to clean the entire house, wash the dishes, do the laundry, rearrange furniture, organize cupboards, and make a treat for some guests coming tonight.
Oh yeah, and clean up poopy Mr. Ender and nurse a teething baby. That counts for a lot.

I don't expect much sleep tonight, but tomorrow, after my visiting teachers come, after I feed everybody, after after after...

...maybe someday I'll get a nap...

Blast From the Past: Imaginary Friends

2012-01-11T07:00:00.000-07:00

It seems most kids' stories of imaginary friends are sweet and nostalgic, like the video for this beautiful song suggests.

My story is very different. It is dark and morbid.

I was always jealous of Rae's imaginary friend. Clausha. She looked something like this, Rae said:

I know, she's so weird! But I thought she was the coolest thing. Rae told us that Clausha was an alien. Clausha told stories about her planet and always had so much fun with Rae.

I wished Clausha were my imaginary friend.

Since I couldn't have her (Rae was adament we couldn't share), I made up my own.

Elaine, with her golden ringlets and flouncy pale green dress, was so perfect.

I felt sure Elaine was better than Clausha. My imaginary friend was real, not an alien.

Elaine hid in the hallway linen closet so I could have her all to myself.

Whenever I was alone, I snuck away to the closet, opened the cupboards, and talked with her.

But pretty soon all I did was stare at her.

She had such perfect hair.

She even had green eyes to match her green dress.

I wanted that dress.

I wanted her hair, too.

As punishment for having what I wanted, I left her alone in the linen closet for a very long time.

When I finally visited her, weeks later, I told her she could leave.

And she did.

And then what did I do? I arranged secret meetings with Clausha.

What does that say about me??? Hahaha!

O, Christmas Letter, We Ever Forget Thee...

2012-01-10T14:29:00.001-07:00

I love reading family Christmas letters! Oh, and individual-letters like what Lynnae did. I'm impressed! I've NEVER done a Christmas letter!
I imagine it will happen someday. Probably before I know it. Someone will say "Hey, I loved your Christmas letter!" And I go, OH! It finally happened!
Nahh....hahaha, that must be the crummy joke of the day. I'm foggy-brained today both from sleepiness and EXCITEMENT (wonderful Jenn is bringing my Blendtec blender today!!!! EEEEEE!!!!)

*ahem*

Back to the topic: our Christmas letter this year is not really something I care about. I mean, I'd rather say "Merry Christmas! Follow my blog or email me or whatever. Love, Q."

At the same time, I love the tradition of New Year's Resolutions (having it as part of my birthday probably helps a ton). It's just funny to me what things I resist.

I resist (for no particular reason):

free-style cooking/baking (I LOVE to measure everything out, it's like...fun)
Christmas Letter writing (bah humbug)
starting an Etsy shop (it's a good idea...)
Weekly schedule program additions. As in, stuff I "should" do every week with my kids. I take Ender to the Bean Museum to see the live animals (we don't care about the story time part, it's all about the animals) pretty much every week, and we go to the library just about weekly, too. And I feel like a darn good mom for doing just that. Join a playground group? No. Enroll him in some kid activity thing? Ugh. It's probably safe to say I won't be a ...what are they called? Those moms who are more involved in their kids' schools than the kids are?
Things with deadlines.

That's it for now! :)

Names

2012-01-10T14:06:00.001-07:00

I love it when reading other blogs gets my wheels turning and my brain churns out ideas! Sometimes it's what I would call "sympathetic blogging," where I run a parallel of thoughts with what I read, and other times it's something my comment spurred.
Here's a little sympathetic blogging: Janae is enjoying picking names for a baby on the way, and it got me thinking about why I love my children's names!

Ender is Elias Anders.
We decided on each of his names quite backwards. We knew we liked the nickname Ender long before we knew the gender of the baby.
Michael and I were on a road trip (I don't even remember where), and we were reading Ender's Game aloud to each other. We were constantly impressed by the boy's ability to stand up against so much pressure and so many expectations. He has to save the world! And no one is shy in telling him that. He's given seemingly unachievable tasks, but somehow he does even more remarkable things than expected.
Michael and I can't help but expect so much from our oldest child. Our expectations come from our hope. We believe in him, we want him to grasp his full potential and live a full life, be the kind of person who is complete in his values, integrity, happiness and strength. Ender. Ender lasts through the challenges and emerges champion. Ender is a finisher of incredible feats.
And I think Life is an incredible feat. And I think my son will not only survive but come through as a hero.

Eventually, we settled on Ender's middle name. Anders. It's a family name on both sides. Originally, we'd thought of using the name Andrew (which is the book-Ender's real name) so that his nickname would be legitimate. During my pregnancy, my sister Liz had her fourth child and named him Andrew. Aside from the copying of the name, I really just felt like my son was not Andrew.

Finally, two weeks before Ender was born, we fell in love with the name Elias.
Michael came to me with his Bible open to the Bible Dictionary and pointed at "Elias." Bold emphasis added, this is an excerpt of the entry:

Elias. There are several uses of this word in the scriptures. Elias in [some] instances can only be the ancient prophet Elijah whose ministry is recorded in 1 and 2 Kings. Elias is also a title for one who is a forerunner, for example, John the Baptist. These passages are sufficiently clarified to show that anciently two Eliases were spoken of, one as a preparer and the other a restorer. John was sent to prepare the way for Jesus, Jesus himself being the Restorer who brought back the gospel and the Melchizedek Priesthood to the Jews in his day. In this particular instance there is reflected also the comparative functions of the Aaronic and Melchizedek priesthoods. The title Elias has also been applied to many others for specific missions or restorative functions that they are to fulfill.
Thus the word Elias has many applications and has been placed upon many persons as a title pertaining to both preparatory and restorative functions. Only by divine revelation to the Prophet Joseph Smith is this topic brought into focus for us who live in the last days.

Elias is one who can prepare people for the coming of the Lord. I think of this in many ways; Ender can be an example to his siblings (well, he has just one so far but I'm thinking ahead) and others--including Michael and me--for the coming of Jesus Christ not only literally but symbolically, in our hearts. Then, someday as a missionary, Ender can prepare others more actively. I guess I should say that the "symbolic" preparation is the same as the literal preparation. I probably just think of a mission as a more on-purpose approach.

That is my son. He is a leader, he has been a righteous example from the start, and he is incredible.

Scarlett Estelle...
It's funny to me that everyone seems to hunt for a nickname for this little dolly. Sometimes we sing her name like "Scarla-larla," and we do it often enough that I can't even remember if I did it first or Michael or Ender did.
At a family Christmas party, someone said that with a name like Scarlett and her full head of hair to match, I'd better watch out! That made me laugh. Because I probably had better watch out. I mean, she's a girl...she's MY girl. Yes, I'd better watch out even if her name is something like, um, Fancy Lolly (!). Hah! Okay, that was... we're moving on.

Scarlett Estelle actually means Red Star. Considering Michael's background with Russian and studies of Communism, that's pretty hilarious. But we dismiss the silliness when it comes to why we really love her name.

Scarlett is a color.
My favorite color. Red. Red, symbolically, is powerful.
Red is passion. The passion of love, love deep enough for the most humanly-impossible sacrifice: the Savior's Atonement. Red is like His blood, and His blood was shed in ultimate love.
The more I ponder this, the deeper all the many meanings become. Scarlett, to me, means absolute Love.

Estelle is French for "star."
This holds a menagerie of meanings for me. Stars...stars on one hand mean to me the promise Heavenly Father has given us of countless blessings for living a Christ-like life. Stars are promises of happiness.
Stars are beautiful. They inspire in the hearts of all mankind the dreams to expand knowledge, reach higher, think bigger, and in all, become more God-like. Stars deepen our thoughts.
Stars are lights. They can be seen even better on the darkest of nights. They are used for guidance and navigation. They can be looked to for direction and comfort. They shine.

Scarlett Estelle is my Love Light. :)

New Year! 2012

2012-01-04T13:33:00.001-07:00

I've tried to simplify each year, and I think I'm getting better! :) It's hard sometimes. There are so many ways I could improve. This is more of a fun angle on resolutions for me.

Resolutions 2012:

Continue creating something every month! This time, I'll aim for art-y (like doodles, et cetera!) rather than something that just fulfills my artistic desires (like moving furniture...).

MORE baking and cooking. Period.

Learn more hair styles.

Practice more often, aiming to learn new harp songs. Try to find more harp students.

Do an anonymous service every month. For anyone, especially including Michael. For my kids only if it's a big deal, unusual compared to what I do for them all the time.

This was an anonymous note to Michael from highschool. I'm using it to emphasize ANONYMOUS.

Read more. Yeah, I'm serious! :) That could seem easy, but I know the truth...

Prepare to run a marathon. For me, this means really regular exercise at the beginning of the year, and then around springtime I'll start more focused training. I'm aiming for the October St. George marathon. If I don't make it for that, I will at least run my own private marathon before the year is over.

Oh, Oh, Oh, it's Magic! Or Just Murphy's Law.

2012-01-04T12:02:00.000-07:00

Every time:

As soon as I sit for some computer time, the kids suddenly become either epic-ly bored or epic-ly needy. Of course, epic-ly bored is pretty much the same as epic-ly needy.

*sigh*

It's no mystery why I haven't blogged much, then, is it?

Take That, Staring Men!

2011-12-16T13:39:00.000-07:00

Hi, guys! Wow, I've missed blogging!

But between internet problems, the end of a semester, two kids, and making Christmas presents, it's no wonder I've been absent.

I have had something sticking to my brain that I have to share, though.

When I go to the pool, men stare at me.
Even when I'm with Michael. Like, very obviously WITH Michael.

And, sadly, this is the reaction I've gotten since high school. Men stare at me. So my tactic has always been to ignore them, not give them my attention except for some angry looks.
But you know what? That won't stop them. I've realized that ignoring them simply gives them permission to keep staring.
And that makes me angry.
Like, if I could illustrate how angry it makes me, it would look kind of like this:

Plus some fire.

So upon realizing that ignoring is not the way to go, I determined I would never be so passive again.

The next time I went to the pool, I was only lucky---no wait, HE was only lucky that Mr. Staring Guy of the Day was on the other side of the window in the gym. As soon as I caught him staring, I sent fiery darts at him, silently snarling my loathing disgust.

He kept staring.

And kept staring.

As I furiously thrust through my laps, I began think-praying. Basically, I was rationalizing to Heavenly Father that it wouldn't be so naughty to flip him off for staring at me. After all, how else would I get the message to him if he wouldn't STOP? I was ready to do it. Guiltlessly.

But when I came back, he had moved to another machine (from which he could barely peer through the window) (but he was still trying). I thought "Oh...yeah...well Heavenly Father is doing us both a favor, I guess."

And I grumpily finished my swimming.

When I recounted this to my papa, he said "I know something you can say next time a guy does that to you."

I listened eagerly.

IF YOU DON'T STOP STARING AT ME, I'M GONNA KICK YOUR BUTT SO HIGH BETWEEN YOUR SHOULDERS, YOU'LL HAVE TO TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF TO POOP.

Yeah.

>:D

Now I can't wait to catch some jerk staring...

Plethoric Momly Snappishness

2011-11-10T15:35:00.001-07:00

It should probably be a rule that cashiers don't comment on the amount of junk food you buy. But maybe this one couldn't help himself when I showed up at his register with 10 truffle bars, 2 six-packs of Hershey's chocolate bars, and two bags of giant marshmallows. All for adding to the collection of chocolate waiting at home for me already.
PMS has hit me hard this time. A stab in the gut (like miniature contractions), a pounding to the head, and not one ounce of patience left. I'm moody, cranky, hot-tempered, and so tired I've been rendered nearly useless as a mommy. I regained the pound I lost, I grew a beard of zits, and my throat hurts from the number of times I failed at keeping my voice in a reasonable talking range (my excuse? Ender was opera-sobbing so loud he couldn't hear me to even start being comforted...and I was far away trapped on the couch nursing Scarlett) (I still don't feel justified about it). I admitted to Michael that I hate having neighbors on days like this because I'm sure they can hear me...
Arg! And my legs are hairy again! Didn't I shave recently enough?
Being "sick" when you're a mom is so hard. Duties never do end. I mean, the kids live with you, and their kind of living needs more help than I ever thought before I was a mom. Days like today, I feel like all I really can do is make sure they keep living. We're down to basic survival here. Curled up on the couch. Ugh.
The only thing keeping me from hauling out the carton of chocolate ice cream is that I don't want to share.

Doodle Day: Sleeping Reality and Possible Doodle Fail

2011-10-27T07:00:00.000-06:00

Here come the doodles. First up, Sleeping Reality. Because who looks that good when they're sleeping?

And this one...is kind of evidence of how strange my humor comes out sometimes. When I told Michael my idea, he wasn't sure everyone would get it. Or that it would work, really. So if you don't get it, my apologies...I'm just weird!

Random Q-toids: Voices and Faces

2011-10-26T07:00:00.000-06:00

1. I love to read with different accents. It got me through many boring homework assignments (Christopher Columbus was more genuine with a lisp, and the long studies of economics went by much nicer with a Spanish anchorwoman's smooth voice).
2. One time, Maddie and I pretended we were British friends with carefully chosen aliases for a plane trip. We were a little too giggly to pull it off very convincingly, but we imagined we surprised at least some people.
3. In London, I psyched myself up to order lunch with a British accent (I'm sure I'm not the first "tourist" to get that idea). When it came time to perform, I was uncharacteristically nervous about it, and I whispered out my mumbled order with red cheeks and hot ears. I couldn't tell if the look I got was for my shyness or my badly executed accent.
4. My favorite way to play a board game is when I'm hyper and with people who understand that I may not take the game seriously. It's especially better if I feel free to sing little tidbits stuck in my head, speak in different voices, and laugh so hard I snort. What good friends to tolerate that!
5. I make faces. All the time. But I especially make faces in the mirror...literally. I highly recommend storing a dry erase marker in your bathroom drawer (it's good for love notes, too). Check this out, and do try it at home:

(I love the incriminating notes above the woman's head...)

I look good as this guy. ;)

Qusings: Running

2011-10-25T12:00:00.000-06:00

I just realized.
I don't really have a love-hate relationship with running like I thought before. I actually LOVE running, everything about it, but it has to be a solitary thing.
That's why I don't always come away from running with the feeling that I loved it.

I'll run with Michael when we work out in the mornings, and I love his company. But I don't really care one way or the other about the elliptical machine.
I'll run by myself on the elliptical at the gym, and it's better with my music on, but I'm still in a room full of stinky, sweaty people.
I'll run with a friend, and I sincerely enjoy the laughter and conversation, but I'm not alone.
I'll run with a stroller...but that's not alone, either.

I relish the chances to shut down and lock up. I'm jealous for time with myself, just as much as I'm jealous for time with Michael. Would you believe? Sometimes Michael and I resist going to events or being with friends because we want each other all to ourselves. It's so true.
But I can get just as greedy for time with Me.

When I think of running in the most ideal way, I think of myself on a trail wide and open, with no one in sight (nothing, preferably). Ideally, I would have a stretch of beach to myself. I adore the ocean, especially when it's cold. A cold ocean is private. Hot oceans equal crowds and parties and lazy vacations. Cold oceans I get all to myself.
So putting it all together, I would run along a freezing cold shoreline with no other people in sight. Alone. Blessedly alone.
Because that's when I can finally let my brain eject its possessions. That's like my secret chance to climb into the attic and unlock my treasure chest without worrying about intruders. I get to cry ugly, I get to laugh ugly, and I even get to sing ugly if I feel like it. I get to be ugly, and no one will insist that I'm not.
I'd feel the cold wind whipping pink into my cheeks, throwing my hair into a flying mess, making my fingers brittle. And I'd feel the sand puffing under the pounding of my legs, making my toes numb because I would run barefoot, my absolute favorite way to use the shoreline...it feels like a more honest way to run, too.

The freedom running, as I've come to think of it, would be medicinal in so many ways. I would be allowed to feel bitter, depressed, lonely, and then-- my thoughts would evolve into the most honest of prayers, and I would feel raised to such a feeling of joy and fulfillment.

Running for me is supposed to be a time that I can take out the garbage. But the garbage is so personal, the running has to feel secret. It has to happen in my secret world.

I would leave the beach with a new level of privacy. Clean, rinsed out, relaxed, with a secret adventure of self discovery and self revelation behind me. Left safe behind me, the treasure chest locked once again, though feeling light as if it were empty.

I am an undeniably introverted person. I live on the inside, and then I project, instead of living on the outside and then internalizing. But I'm also extremely picky about my projection. Who, where, when, what. Picky, picky, picky, picky.

I thought for some time that I hated running because it didn't always give me what I wanted. The physical part wasn't as much a big deal as the mental part. And if the running didn't bring an emotional purge, what was it for? So I thought I hated it. Rather, I loved it and hated that it didn't "work" for me as it seemed to for others.

I'm practically itching to gear up for a marathon. It's laid out in my mental calendar, waiting for me. And I'm waiting for it. I get so into the idea I wonder why I'm not doing it now, but then I remember I have to wait. Because I have a new, nursing baby. Because my husband is in school. Because, because, because. And unfortunately, they're such good reasons that they're not excuses.

Questions for Q: Ask Your Kids

2011-10-24T14:00:00.000-06:00

This is a different take on how I'll normally do this. I couldn't resist this little interview! Christy did it first, and Rae copied...and I copied!

Questions with Ender (he is 3½ years old)

1. What is something Mommy always says to you?
You say "yes you can watch a movie, Ender!" Sometimes you say that.

2. What makes Mommy happy?
Make you smile! You make me happy and then I am happy.

3. What makes Mommy sad?
If I cry if you don't. You make yourself when I cry. When you're frus-chated.

4. How does Mommy make you laugh?
She makes me laugh! Sometimes she blows up balloons.

5. What was Mommy like as a child?
You were being really quiet to the stories from Grandma!

6. How old is Mommy?
Three when she's three. Three when Grandma read you some stories when you were a kid.

7. How tall is Mommy?
When you grew big, you were into my mommy!

8. What is Mommy's favorite thing to do?
She loves to do...what do you love to do, Tate? (Qait)

9. What does Mommy do when you're not around?
We go sometimes and Daddy! I'm gone when I drive inside my home.

10. If Mommy becomes famous, what will it be for?
Hm?

11. What is Mommy really good at?
You're good at ...she loves to...you love to do...to draw a house. And you love to draw a rocket.

12. What is Mommy not very good at?
She sings that she has to write at the computer.

13. What does Mommy do for her job?
You do for building a giant, GIANT ROCKET!!! You make balloons. Sometimes you make three balloons. Sometimes you make butterflies out of balloons.

14. What is Mommy's favorite food?
Your favorite is ....uh...chicken.

15. What makes you proud of Mommy?
Because I'm proud of you. That you came home.

16. If Mommy were a cartoon character, who would she be?
Ferb! That would be funny.

17. What do you and Mommy do together?
We and I help us make ourselves eat popcorn and then watch a movie with popcorn!

18. How are you and Mommy the same?
We and I match like the same as our clothes!

19. How are you and Mommy different?
We and I are not ...the colors are not the same.

20. How do you know Mommy loves you?
Because I very love you too.

21. Where is Mommy's favorite place to go?
You love...what do you love to go to? You love to go to the grocery store.

Blast from the Past: The Count of Monte Cristo

2011-10-24T07:00:00.000-06:00

I went to summer school once.

But let me explain! I wasn't a delinquent!

I was an Army Brat.

There's a difference.

Each school I went to treated me like a permanent student, so if I didn't have all the same classes other kids my age had, I had to make up for it because each school wanted to believe I'd graduate in that school.

So at Pleasant Valley High School (it's just as valley and snobby as it sounds), I was "behind."

And instead of wasting my time with taking those classes during the school year, I decided to get them behind me and do it in the summer!

Here's a little assignment I found. It kind of makes me laugh...I'm not sure why...oh I see why. Because I don't agree with the teacher's last comment. But that's okay! :D
I think we were just supposed to draw a portrait of Dantes and then talk about his character?

I saw the Count of Monte Cristo as a darker man than portrayed in the movie and on the published book cover. Edmond Dantés seemed to rid himself of his innocence after the suffering and turmoil he endured in the Chateau d'If. Gaining intelligence and strong knowledge, his countenance changed. The torment he underwent transformed his entire being. His image, eccentricity, and confidence presented somewhat of a threat to his enemies and an idol for his admirers.
In forming this portrait, I tried to render both the bitter anguish the count held and the kind deity he possessed. A regal figure, I wanted him to look strong and independent. The Count looked to God for direction in how he led his life. Because of this, nearly all his acquaintances looked to him as their leader.

teacher's remarks:

Excellent portrait --
You definitely capture the anguish of Dantes.

That book meant a lot to me, actually. I still love it. I recommend it to anyone...but you might be better off with the abridged version. You're not missing anything.

Blog Newness!

2011-10-23T13:19:00.001-06:00

IN HONOR OF 200 POSTS

There will be some changes here-- more like additions to and an organization of what's already here!

I'm excited, and I hope you are, too!

We all know I'm busy, so I'm not going to glue this to myself like a promise, but I'm hoping to do a collection of posts each month, falling under the following themes. I will still blog outside of those themes and continue as usual, so this is mostly going to bulk up what I already do.

Stories, pictures, memories!

Something doodled by me and perhaps other doodles that I find hilarious.

I sure hope this one will be interesting for you...

Posts written by others! So far, I have no rules in mind.

Pieces of ponderings - this is what I often blog about, but these will be more specific vignettes.

Short snippets, random blips! Just like it says!

This has been going on all year, but I will now have this doodle (which I am unabashedly proud of) to mark these creation posts.

What do you think, my beloved readers???

Emotional Salad

2011-09-28T17:31:00.000-06:00

I am an emotional salad today. It's not fun.
There's a little bit of everything, and it's all tossed together:

peace
happiness
crankiness
depression
humor
frustration
etc.

I feel bipolar in the way I can be calm and exuding peaceful vibes but then explode the instant I discover I've walked into a puddle of pee in the bathroom. There goes that happiness, in comes utter frustration (accompanied by a battle of trying to help Ender understand WHY it is not cool to pee on the floor just to take a bath...while Scarlett cries, desperately hungry...and I have to change my now pee-soaked pajama pants). It's almost warthog level. But warthog level doesn't have confusing moments of joy or bliss. I almost prefer that to this emotional toss-up (spin the wheel, what will it land on?) because I at least get what's going on.
And no, it's not something I can blame on birth control. (Although I CAN blame it on my period...oh that lovely Monthly of mine).
:'( I've been stressed. This week, my milk supply has suffered. Not exactly sure why, but I think I can pin it on forgetting to eat (honest, I'm not trying to miss meals), being stressed with Ender's recent renewal of whining and wetting, being stressed with what seems to be teething for Scarlett already...and not getting enough sleep, at all. I think part of Scarlett's discomfort is that my milk wasn't as plentiful, but she really does have the symptoms of teething, along with a little hint of tooth under the gums.
In my pumping this week, I've managed to get 2 oz in 20+ minutes (4 oz. when I did it in the morning once) instead of my used-to-be-usual 6+ oz. in about 10-15 minutes. This is too early to dry up...I just can't stand the thought of drying up yet! Nursing has gone so well this time...
I've read up some ideas to get the milk coming back. Nursing less frequently (you'd think otherwise, but I was going at it every hour thinking she was going through a growth spurt). Normally, I'd think nursing more often would help give my body the signals to make more milk. That's just how it works. But doing it so frequently, my body never really had the chance to make enough for Scarlett each time (which was hard for her), and she wasn't getting the better, nutrient-rich milk like she should have. I'm also pumping every night again. And I'll take my dietary supplement Lactation Ease, even though that's not the same as straight fenugreek. And we're praying...

I don't like feeling so unpredictable with my emotions. :( I'm not even sure exactly why I want to share all of this except that maybe there will be some comfort in reaching outside the walls of my house today.

Oh, haha. I just realized a joke in all of this. I'm calling myself an emotional salad...but aha, salads are good for us, aren't they.
That's not really what I want to hear.
But I'll try to learn from all of this.
I can't WAIT for Saint Husband to rescue me this time with his unfailing magic...

He DID Care! ...and 200?

2011-09-22T09:29:00.001-06:00

Remember this recent post? Guess what. A week later, while driving to pick up Michael, Ender announced, "Mommy, we're too far. Will you say a prayer?"
:) He got it! He did learn the lesson!
Of course, I had to explain that we were not lost this time, but we had a nice conversation about how we can always pray for help when we are lost (and that when we are not lost, we can pray again that we're thankful).
That just about made my day. I said my own little prayer of gratitude that Ender had actually paid attention.

Oh. Woops...apparently, this is my 200th post, and I had something cool planned for that. But on my blogger home page, it says I only have 198 posts. Maybe I'll go by that number...erm, in the meantime, Yay! Congratulations to me, and Thanks to you! My blog is now Mature (hehe!).
Here's what I wrote for the 100th post. Did I maybe not notice it was the 100th? Because why would I choose to celebrate potty training as my 100th post? And if I'm wrong and the 100th post was actually the next one, I really couldn't have known, because there I'm talking about my bad-mommy-ways and bemoaning a day-long poop catastrophe while struggling to maintain my wits. REALLY? But...but...then I missed it! I never noticed when the 100th came and went!
*sigh* It's probably not a big deal to anyone else (psh, 100? Piddly), but it makes me proud to blog. I love blogging. So it's an accomplishment. Which means! My 200th post will bring about a change to my blogworld!

At least, if this one isn't the 200th. Seriously, Blogger's a little off with its math.
(For the record, I'm quite certain this IS the 200th post, but I'm not exactly ready yet, so I'm pretending I agree with the home page).

August Creation

2011-09-22T09:11:00.001-06:00

I almost feel like I should let that last post settle, you know? Give it breathing space. Because I think it's incredible. I keep coming back to it.

As expected, in August I did not try to be Martha Stewart with any creations. :) I simply rearranged the furniture so that Ender and Scarlett can share a room and have the other bedroom freed up for my sewing machine and bookcases and the TV. Nothing fancy! Although, it was sweat-inducing work.

So here's what you get to see... my messy house! :D It's not terrible, but it's not camera-worthy. Everything was clean after the arrangement, but I've obviously taken so long to even mention my August Creation that there was plenty of time for that to change (we all know it only takes moments, don't we).

There's Scarlett waving her hand in her crib!

Ender didn't want me to take a picture because his hair isn't spiky. Hah!

I didn't want to take a picture because there's stuff all over the dressers! Including a weensy bundle of a diaper. Yes. The diaper genie is full (plus, I was lazy about it--that's the deeper truth).

But my laundry is folded, so it's not the worst mess to capture in a picture, is it! :)

July Creation

2011-09-22T08:33:00.001-06:00

Scarlett is my July Creation. That isn't cheating, by the way-- I didn't count being pregnant all those months as my monthly creations, but giving birth? TOTALLY COUNTS.
Scarlett's birth story isn't necessarily graphic, but if you're ever uncomfortable about these things, skip (if you MUST). Because I don't try to be subtle, I don't try to abbreviate or euphemize.

I present to you...THE BIRTH STORY OF SCARLETT ESTELLE! I first started writing it July 26th, and finally finished today with a "third installment." Because I worked that way, there are just a couple things I repeat. Shouldn't matter, but they're separated into visible sections. In my rolly cursive, it takes ten and a half journal pages, and it's amazing to me to see Heavenly Father's love in all of it.

Incredible photography by my sister Rae (I can hardly express my thanks-- it means so much to have these moments preserved for revisiting. I am so deeply grateful she was willing to do this for Scarlett's birth).

1.
It takes time to process a "birth story." I've felt like I could pound out the medical half but that the emotional half is perhaps beyond words.
Friday, July 15th, began with very few, very irregular (and sometimes very mild) contractions. They didn't get my hopes up. I went around the house doing normal chores, talking with Ender and pretty much chilling. Finally the evening seemed slow enough that I figured I might as well try to start some labor! It would be nice to have Michael home from his last shift at Radio Shack. Since nipple stimulation had worked a bit before, I got out the breast pump and settled myself with some no-bake cookies and the "Nanny 911" show. I pumped for about 2 hours, and the contractions started really grabbing my attention-- I'd sit up and say "Oh..." and breathe carefully to divert my attention from the pain.
I thought of the contractions as waves or surges. A great, swelling feeling, which I could depend on to recede. I focused on the recession of each and didn't allow myself to think anything negative (non "pain" or "can't" words).
So as the pump-induced contractions seemed to pick up and burn through my lower back, I decided pumping wasn't fun anymore (since Michael wasn't with me and would still be at work a while). I figured I had done my part, so to speak, and labor would simply come or not.
The contractions slowed considerably. Michael came home, and we folded laundry while we watched Mystery Science Theater 3000 (after putting Ender to bed). Once in a while the contractions were very strong...and finally, we could tell they were not going to go away!
Once we realized that, there was a great buzz of excitement in our home! We happily bustled around, checking the overnight bag and grinning at each other. It was only at that point that Michael started timing the contractions. They'd become much stronger and more frequent. I sat at the harp and played through my favorite songs; it was funny to me-- my contractions either made me play faster or very clumsily! Once or twice I stopped playing.
It seemed like I had no true concept of time! I'd mention that I thought the contractions had slowed down, and Michael would laugh and say "It's only been [two] minutes since your last one!"
We were giddy with excitement! I couldn't stop smiling! We called the midwife, and she said we should head over to the hospital! Michael and I looked at each other... it's happening!
2.
As soon as Michael's grandma came over to be with Ender (asleep, of course, at that point), we left. And it seemed as if the contractions stopped. I kept glancing at Michael, biting my lip and raising my eyebrows. He reminded me that it still hadn't been long. But for the 20-minute drive, I only had one strong contraction and perhaps two super mild ones. Somehow I still felt sure.
We arrived at the hospital about 2am.
I forgot to mention something. It's important, too. Michael gave me a priesthood blessing before we left. We were assured that I would have the strength to give birth naturally, unmedicated, as I hoped. My blessing called Scarlett and me eternal spirits, and I felt a deeper bond with her than ever before. I felt like her sister, her equal, and just as I felt honored to be her mother and teach her what I've learned, I felt honored that she would be teaching me as well.
3.
I love the feeling of peace combined with excitement. The times I've felt that way are the best times of my life-- my very first time in the temple, all subsequent times, getting married, having babies, and performing a well-prepared harp piece.
Earlier in the day, my emotions had crashed. I had done so well keeping patient, but I suddenly felt a great wash of...what would you call it? I felt exhausted of Waiting. There's so much anticipation, and it had reached a peak. I started to cry. I wanted my baby here.
Knowing it would calm me, I washed my face and prayed. After sobbing my feelings to Heavenly Father, I felt the familiar comfort that it would be alright. I knew everything would happen "soon enough." Even if that meant more waiting, I was comforted. I dried my face and proceeded to do my makeup and curl my hair.
Writing this part 2 months later, I don't remember everything that happened before the contractions really started. I think I washed the dishes, checked email, and went about my normal daily doings. But my house was moderately clean when we left, which helped me feel even more ready for the hospital.
When a nurse checked me, I was dilated to 5, I think. That was exciting, and things were picking up (the contractions, I mean). It was exponentially harder to lie in a bed during the contractions, but I grabbed hold of my sanity before it ever seemed at risk of panicking. I breathed the contractions in, out and away. I imagined the waves receding the moment they surged.
Michael and I grinned at each other the whole time. Michael tuned into my body and knew what its signals meant. He watched the clock and watched me. I felt his happiness, pride and concern. I felt his presence the entire time, whether he was touching me or not.

My sister Rae and my mother arrived, and we wasted no time getting into laughter. We all grinned at each other. I fed off the sparkles in their eyes, the sound of their voices. It was even funny--it was like a party in our room, and my midwife seemed in awe, delighted with the atmosphere.

We all chatted about numerous topics, sometimes random and always comfortable even switching from humorous to spiritual. At one point, Michael said "You should be having a contraction about now...," interrupting me with a note of concern. I laughed. "I am! Just trying to talk over it!"
We were sitting on the floor. I sat cross-legged with Michael behind me. As the contractions built, he pressed my hips while I breathed and rocked. It felt beautiful, and my midwife praised us. She said I was built for childbirth and made it look easy.

My midwife and the nurse were perfect for me. Kim, the nurse, went about her business unobtrusively, allowing us to keep a consistent, natural flow of events. And my midwife, Jennifer Walker, was everything I needed her to be. She talked with all of us in easy conversation, coming and leaving seemlessly. When she was in the room for good (things were going fast), she let me dictate the way things went. As she put it, she just sat back and let me have a baby!
I moved pretty frequently. The floor worked well for a good part of the time, and it helped to stand with Michael or Rae wrapping their arms around me, pressing my hips or shoving down on my lower back.
I'm not sure what time it was when I decided I'd like my water broken. It was a simple choice. I thought on it long enough to gear up for the faster pace it would bring on, and I knew I could handle it. I was ready for the next step.

It really did kick things up a notch! And while the excitement persisted, that was when I let everyone else carry the conversation. I formed a world of focus in my mind. I turned my body's work exclusively towards the task at hand. I felt so aware of my own body that rather than noticing much of my physical environment, I felt the strength and love of the spirits around me.

Michael, always there. Rae, watching every detail. Mother, loving me with all her might. Jen, confident in my body's instinct. Kim, quietly keeping things smooth.
I stood with Michael behind me. I pressed his hands on my hips. I rested my head back on his chest, against his chin. He didn't have to talk or whisper much. We danced; I rocked my hips in a circle, breathing and softly moaning, and he held me, rocking with me. It was timeless. Beautiful.

The contractions became one long ache. I never did let myself call them contractions. I didn't let myself think the words "can't," "hard," "pain," etc. Instead I would think about how I knew what my body was doing, and how I wanted to let it do that. My thoughts became progressively abstract.

At some moment, I needed music. I needed its wordlesspower to lift my mind into a higher plane of peace and endurance. I needed more than breathing. As the music filled my mind, I fell into my mother's arms and let her rock me while my body crouched and flooded with an inner weight aching to be released. I felt so much love from Michael, his presence the most constant support. I felt so much love, it was everywhere, even inside me.

My body felt heavy with pressure. I gripped my mother's shoulders and knew she understood the world we were wrapped in together. As the Danse Profane by Debussy climbed to climax, so did the tug of birth. Gravity hugged me in a wash of pain--though I called it desire. I felt like my body was reaching for Scarlett, furiously strong in its coaxing. I breathed her name, wanting her.
We moved--everyone around me--closer to the bed, and I crouched deeper. As my moans picked up, they got higher in pitch, and I felt like I was singing. My midwife (and everyone else for that matter) coached me into lower moans, even moaning with me. But I decided I didn't want things to happen that way. My moans were too distracting if I had to change the way they wanted to come out. Everyone helped me onto the bed. Scarlett was close, I knew it.
Again, I felt surrounded by love, by strong and supportive spirits. But my mind went to a secluded place. In a jungley garden of green, I was Eve. Giving birth to the first baby of the world. I roared like I had seen the leopard do. I bent and pushed with my entire body. I roared through the searing burn of things spreading. I was Eve because I was mother. I was letting my body take over, feeling the deepest reality of Nature and Life.
I roared and roared. My body burned, raging in heroic strength. "Push," they told me, "one more time." And could it be I wasn't done? She wasn't here? That last push had been everything my body could do! But I pushed again, again, willing it to be bigger. Roaring. In sudden delight, everyone exclaimed "We see her hair!" And everything halted. I opened my eyes.
"She has hair?!" I asked.
And with new ferocity, I mentally opened my body, and I roared Scarlett into the world.
* * * 5:07am * * *
The world changed that instant. Holding my wet little girl, I basked in the mother-euphoria. My legs were warm with blood, and I learned later that it was more blood than anyone had seen with a birth. I heard the midwife's calm concern about getting the placenta to deliver, but beyond obeying her murmured requests to push, I ignored her and gazed into Scarlett's eyes, the darkest blue.Neither of us had words; we shared with our souls, feeling the after-peace of what we had just been through. Michael and I smiled at each other, love in our eyes. I cried quietly.
I felt so good. Even hungry. I even enjoyed the fact that my throat was sore from roaring (I did not exaggerate). Perhaps tired, but sleep was almost impossible the next 24 hours at the hospital. I was just so pumped full of natural birth adrenaline.
Michael slept (sharing my hospital bed), and Scarlett slept, curled on my chest. And I lay there with a smile on my face, so in love.

Oopsy!

2011-09-19T16:10:00.000-06:00

Do you know...I read a woman's blog that makes me laugh every time. And she recently did this post where she mentions "farting loudly in public." Specifically, that she almost never does.
Me too, I thought.
It reminded me of church yesterday.

Michael and I were a little late for Stake Conference, so we sat in wooden overflow chairs. Yes, wooden chairs-- you see where this is going!
And I just...tilted...

I didn't even try to be subtle. My wickedness had me laughing to the point of tears. I looked at Michael helplessly, gasping I was laughing so silently-hard, and he widened his eyes at me. "QAIT!" he whispered, trying not to smile. (After all, I'd done him no favor-- if anyone looked at us, they'd just as easily wonder if he'd done the crime). And this time, it wasn't the sort I could "pass off" (haha) as the kids' faults. No way.

The end.

Oh, PS: I did it three times.

A New Faith Experience

2011-09-14T16:19:00.003-06:00

As expected, I'm busy enjoying my new baby (who is now two months old! GAH!), so the blog piece of my world is somewhat dormant. I don't care. :D
But I have thought about all of the blogs I follow, and I've even written posts in my mind.
I haven't forgotten my monthly Creations (in keeping with my New Year's resolutions), I'm just taking my time. Like a good girl.
(And sometimes it is HARD to slow down like this; I'm very pleased with myself).

But I feel like sharing today, at least as long as Scarlett stays happy resting her beautiful head on my arm while I type.

Monday came with a chunk of stress wrapped up in the middle. We started our schedule kind of late, but it wasn't a big deal since we still managed to get our full our of exercise at the gym. After dropping Michael off at school, the kids and I left for our errands. Between a couple of them, I took a wrong turn.
Complete surprise! I'm fine with directions, and when I get lost, I neither panic nor stay lost for long. It's just not a big deal. But that day, it all seemed so unfair and crazy that I couldn't orient myself. And what luck: I'd forgotten my phone that morning.
I saw that I was on the right road, but I couldn't tell which direction I was heading (except that it was unfamiliar and wrong). But before I could correct myself, the lane turned into a left-turn lane, and I was suddenly on I-15.
I could feel the stress seeping into my mind. I prayed in my mind-- constantly, actually-- and still couldn't seem to shake the awful feeling of being in the WRONG direction.
I figured I'd take the first exit I saw, no problem. The first exit didn't come along until I was two cities away from where I needed to be in under an hour for Scarlett's 2-month appointment. And that exit was closed for construction.
I finally decided to pray aloud, which might be a great lesson for Ender...except that with Scarlett crying (and a window secretly open a half-inch that I had no idea about, adding so much wind noise to everything), I had to yell a few times before Ender understood that I wanted to pray...and then he just didn't care. He didn't want to pray. So I felt a bit lonely in my prayer, lonely depending on my faith alone. I'd wanted Ender's perfect little simple prayer to help us get unlost. But I had to say it (yell it, practically).
The strangest thing to me in all this is that I experienced a new flavor of faith. I don't think I have ever felt this way, and it's almost embarrassing to admit. All my life, the way I've understood faith and life and the gospel, I've been able to calm myself with the belief that everything will work out. I pray, and even if things don't go the way I hope, it works. It just does. Sometimes it works in rough ways, but it WORKS. So I don't have to worry, stress or be afraid.
Monday, I couldn't shake the stress. I actually cried about being lost. I never stopped praying, but I also never waited for the feeling of peace to come, the assurance that I wouldn't stay lost forever. I prayed and prayed. I felt so awfully helpless.
But right after praying aloud (and trying not to let Ender know I was crying--enough that my chin wobbled, guys, and I rarely cry to begin with), I felt like my attention was tugged towards a sign that said a familiar street name with the next exit. Saved!
I kept praying my thanks, and still I felt like I wasn't finished being lost yet. I had to get there before I could feel the relief. Scarlett's appointment time was growing closer, and I couldn't predict yet how far I was from getting there.
When I told Ender finally that we weren't lost anymore, he didn't really care. He didn't know the difference, he was just enjoying looking out his window (so like me as a kid). I said a thank-you prayer aloud and kept saying more in my mind.
We had time for the briefest stop at home so I could run in and grab my phone before we headed to Scarlett's appointment (we were 10 minutes early).
My phone wouldn't turn on. That was just dumb.

So everything seemed fine. Oh yeah, except that Ender accidentally peed on his clothes while trying to pee in the toilet (and I mean a LOT), so he had to wear one of Scarlett's diapers stretched over his bum (poor guy. He was such a good sport about it, not in least embarrassed even though I knew he hated it).

I don't know if the doctor was inspired, but it was so good to hear what he had to say. We talked about how Scarlett still nurses every 2 hours but how I was sure that was normal since she sleeps through the night and has for a month now (shhh! Pretend you didn't hear that if it makes you hate me). He said he thinks that babies kind of feed off their moms--ha, literally!--in the way that if mom is calm, baby is calm. He said I seemed really calm and comfortable and that it must play a part in how I feel like Scarlett is such an easy baby, easy to comfort and easy to care for.
I laughed a bit about how I hadn't been so calm that day, but I knew what he said was true. Our family is not a very stressful one. Even when we do feel the stress (and we do), we seem to handle it alright. But I really needed that reminder, that compliment. I had felt so wound up until then.
I suppose I needed the assurance, too, that I hadn't lacked faith. I still felt apologetic to Heavenly Father about how I hadn't really left room in myself for comfort, but I did pray. I knew He could help me, so even if I didn't know whether He WOULD or not, I knew He was the one to turn to. That is faith. It just felt scarier. And today I'm grateful for Monday.

To wax even longer, I'll tell you a bit about Scarlett, if you don't mind. :)

Scarlett is patient. When she is hungry, she does cry, but as soon as she understands that I'm about to feed her (holding her, getting the boppy, sitting down), she is quiet. She waits. And this morning she even grinned before she latched on, which made me burst with happiness.

Scarlett loves music. I can tell she's listening. She gets such an intelligent, deep look in her eyes. I held her while I taught a harp lesson yesterday, and she furrowed her brows thoughtfully and held absolutely still. I expected her to be asleep every time I glanced at her. She had a look on her face that seemed to say "I know this sound!" I would love it if she wants to be a harpist...

Scarlett loves her brother and already seems content to let him be her leader and protector. He talks sweetly to her and laughs at her smiles, and she doesn't mind at all when he squishes her face or pats her tummy to burp her. She's not just tolerating it...she may even like that he's playing with her!

Scarlett is happy. She is easy to comfort; she responds immediately to us when we hold her and help her. This, I think, is a gift for all of us. She smiles so often. Michael got her to laugh when he was being goofy for her, and it was such a cute intake of breath (not a belly laugh yet) I heard it from another room. She seems to enjoy us.

Michael and I have talked about possible reasons my pregnancy with Scarlett was so easy...the labor was better, too (even though I love my birth stories equally, I prefer the unmedicated experience I had with Scarlett). Nursing is a new experience the way it's going so well, and she's a very different baby. I'm sure my confidence is much higher, and I realize that makes a considerable difference. But Michael and I have pondered the way things went with Ender, and we feel like our blessings are not chance.

When I was pregnant with Ender, I had some really serious kidney problems. I was induced because my doctor worried that if I went any longer, we might be looking at an emergency kidney transplant following the birth. I don't usually mention that part because things obviously went well, and my kidneys healed perfectly. But we realized that if I my next pregnancy went the same, it would be unwise to have more children. And we wanted more.
Knowing what we might be getting into, we prayed and felt sure about having another baby. We prepared by studying special kidney diets and talking with the eurologist and OB-GYN. I ate well and exercised. I practiced the kidney diet before I was pregnant to be sure I had the discipline to do it (and so that it wouldn't be too scary/weird of a change later). We prayed and prayed. In priesthood blessings, I was assured that if I kept taking care of myself, we would have a healthy pregnancy and a healthy baby.
At the very beginning of my second pregnancy, I felt the slightest bits of pain in my kidneys and was careful to be less lenient with my diet. The pains never came back.
I threw up a total of ten times, and nearly every time I knew the reason (I'd gone too long without food).
I felt good. I felt flexible, I felt energetic, I felt happy. I was more emotional, that's for sure. But those times came and went with little or no damage. :) And there was about a week that I had some extremely uncomfortable heart-burn-like sensations. I had air trapped in my throat, and I do not wish that on anyone. I suspect I have a small esophagus like my papa. It's a good thing I eat slowly and chew my food as diligently as a cow! ;)
The labor also went well, and perhaps just as significantly, so did my recovery. After I had Ender, I couldn't get up without passing out (is this normal? Seems to be). It was so bad, though, that they wouldn't let me have Ender with me. Can't tell you how annoying that was. Anyway, after Scarlett was born, I got out of bed just fine, and I felt fantastic. I was ready to go home! Ready to show Scarlett off! Ready to do anything I wanted!
Not climb Mount Everest. I'm not that crazy. Besides, I don't really want to climb that mountain.
Nursing Ender was a pretty difficult experience. I never even realized until now that I never felt my milk let down (too graphic for a blog? Go away!). And how weird is that! I had milk, but I wonder now if I ever had very much, because I never got engorged, and I was never able to pump more than about two or three ounces. I nursed him for long periods because I was never sure he was getting enough (and he fussed SO much if I stopped before he felt ready). All of that, and nursing hurt. I'm grateful (and rightfully proud) that I kept it up until he was 9 months. And I'm grateful, too, that I supplemented with formula-- it gave me a break and comforted me that at least somehow I'd know he was getting enough. It may have played a part in my drying up (which could be why Ender stopped at 9 months).
So! Nursing Scarlett? Easy. SO easy. And so wonderful. I never really felt that whole "bonding" thing through nursing before, and I absolutely love it.
And...Ender cried a lot as a baby. He spit up a lot, he fussed a lot, bla bla bla. Scarlett doesn't fuss much at all. And of course I love both my babies and I'm not comparing their...I don't know, their Coolness. They are awesome kids.

But in all? We wonder if Heavenly Father has rewarded us for having the faith to have more children while knowing it could be quite the trial.

That's all very personal, but I hope you understand what I mean. Things may not work like that for other families--but that makes sense because the gospel really is personal. Because Heavenly Father knows us perfectly.

Even if my next pregnancy is rough like the first, I feel so happy to have had it easy this time. Now I know what it can be like on the other side of the spectrum, and that's enough for me. And I feel like I believe with even more conviction that I am meant to be a mother, meant to have these children. I always knew, but now I feel even more suited for the task.
I AM MOTHER.
I love it.

I'm fairly busy loving it, too, so you may not hear from me again soon. Who knows? So I hope that was a big enough chunk to fill the void in my blogging (not that you've noticed, but I have).

Time Capsule: Questionnaire by Maddie

2011-07-28T14:31:00.004-06:00

While I get the birth story together (three pages in my journal and still not to the part where we went to the hospital), here's a little treasure from the Time Capsules of Storage. You will see a lot of treasures from there, I think-- my parents, finally in their own home with retirement in full bloom, have gotten their things from storage, and that includes several boxes of my own things!
My things include TONS of notebooks. Most of them are only half-filled, too!

So today's treasure? An "interview" with my sister Maddie on one of our many road trips. Get ready for some 14-year-old-Qaitness with a funny (and increasingly bored) Maddie! (She's the best part of it all). Too bad I can't include the little faces we drew along with comments. The classic ":)" doesn't really cut it.

Maddie

(probably 13 or 14 here, as opposed to 11 or 12 at time of questionnaire).

MADDIE: Sorry I said you stink on car trips. You don't usually, and even when you do, it's mainly because of gas. :)

QAIT: I don't care- it was a PMS hormones moment. If I smell like a sack of kaka, oh well. "IT'S ALL IN THE CRAMPS," said a wise woman (?). Gas is awesome.

Well I thought you might be slightly surprised/hurt when I blurted that, cause I would have been. Besides, I'm sure I stink really bad sometimes on car trips! I'm glad you're not hurt/mad. PS: I just passed gas.

Just your breath and on occasion your armpits. ;) Ask me a question.

Question: If you were a fairy, what color and season would you be?
Answer: I would be a plaid winter fairy.

Q: What is your least favorite kind of candy?
A: Cotton.

Q: Say you and your hubby go on a camping trip (you're married for now). Which is bound to annoy you more?
1. his B.O.
2. his tired laziness
3. his sardine breath

Q: Which is more likely to get you out of bed in the morning?
1. You hear Nigel give a strangled meow. All his meows sound strangled.
2. You smell your favorite breakfast.
3. The bed is cold and uncomfortable. Ask me a question I can answer in my own words.

Q: What would make a haunted house scary to you? (Satanic stuff doesn't count).
A: Someone I can't see grabbing me.

Q: What's one of the most annoying things pubert boys do?
A: Pick their faces? I don't know!

Q: Would you pick a huge wedgie in front of a crowd of hot guys if it meant you would never get a cavity?
A: I've done it before...and I don't have any cavities! >:)

Q: What color panties are you wearing?
A: Zebra again (fresh of course).

Q: What is your least favorite flavor of flouride?
A: Bubblegum.

Q: Which kind of deformity do you think is scariest?
A: Fire melted skin.

Here I must say sorry to all burn victims. But all the other deformities I could think of were things people might be born with...or something like the loss of a limb, which just doesn't rack up to "scary." So it's more the horror of having been burned than the actual burned person that scares me the most. And if I were to worry about becoming deformed, I think my vanity would suffer the biggest blow if my skin were burned.

Q: What's one of the most annoying things Dentists do?
A: "Let's be best friends" stuff.

Q: what makes movies really dumb to you?
A: Macho guys (who are just stupid) and ditz girls who get in the way of the plot...ill planned humor...plus bad acting!

Q: I'm sure this is funner for you than for me. What is a job you would love to have that is kind of corny?
A: Detective-- a female James Bond.
That's not so corny!

Q: My butt hurts. Does yours?
A: It's unconscious. X(

Q: Why do you think coyotes howl at the full moon?
A: Cramps. :\ Because it awakens their spirits and the connection to the heavens is sharpened. They sing out their souls, with whatever extreme emotion they feel (maybe). ;)

Q: Which supernatural power would you most like to have?
A: Invisibility...and flight...

Q: You know I can hear you crunching your carrot. Or did you know?
A: Doesn't matter. I only wanted something to nibble (tastes gross).

Q: If you had to give up one of your talents (say, for Nini's life) (that's nigh-nigh, Nigel) which one? It can be minor. Oh, and why?
A: Future predicting (ESP). It bothers me sometimes. :)

Q: What makes hotels heaven to you?
A: Cozy beds, balconies, big TV, beautiful bathrooms.

Q: Do you have to potty?
A: Not at all. Bladder's dead.
Mine too.

Q: Would you like an apple pie with that?
A: Perhaps.

Q: And how do you like your teeth?
A: Clean please.

Q: Tell me, is it natural to you when you burp after soda, or does the soda make you?
A: Soda makes you. (Bubbles and stuff).

Q: Oh, and why do you write in caps?
A: It's cool. I don't like my other handwriting right now.

Q: I see. Very interesting. You know, I think it'd be cool to have star shaped eyes. Your opinion?
A: Enchanting!

Q: I knew it! I just knew it! Do you think [BOY] will hug you when he first sees you? (I do).
A: Maybe. He might hesitate, though!

Q: Oh. Weirdo. Do you hope he'll be really hot?
A: I don't know. I think I do.

Q: Am I giving you enough space to write your answers? A: Q: hahaha! Goodnight. PS: How dare you fall asleep while I strive to think of questions to ask you.

I was just waiting, not sleeping. But I was also wishing I could run along the beach in Italy with Blake. Ridiculous, isn't it? One second it's all about Heath, then Blake, then Jared, then whoever is next! Makes me feel evil! :( Is it bad? I don't mean to like so many guys at once.

Hey...I have a confession. I miss Mark and Josh and Allen like heck! And I'm thinking about Josh a lot...wishing I wasn't so dumb when I had the chances to talk to him. I like him! =[ And, about you wondering whether it's wrong to... I don't see why, cause you're just friends, BUT! If it's friend...friendlier...friendliest--LOVE! (What d'ya know!) then it seems a bit ___? to me.

I like Josh, too. He's the coolest kid outside our family. ;) Just email him. He would no doubt answer and you could ask for Mark's email. :)
I'm BLEH...

[cut]

Are you predicting you'll be hyper in the hotel(s)? I can feel it stirring in me... :)

Who knows. Periods can kill me. I'm actually in terrible pain but you don't know that. I might get hyper, I mightn't.

THE END! What do you think of Maddie's creativity?! Huzzah, Maddie! Huzzah! Even though you seemed to have orthodontia on the mind, you came up with some pretty interesting questions!

Scarlett's Arrival

2011-07-28T13:32:00.000-06:00

I would love to share the story of Scarlett's birth. But it hasn't molded itself into words, yet. It's all so BIG in my mind, full of such incredible elation and love that it won't fit yet. :) My mind needs time to soak it up.

Scarlett Estelle

8 lbs. 1 oz., 19.5"

16 July 2011, Saturday at 5:07am.

She is beautiful. We are all smitten.

Soon, Whatever That Means

2011-07-11T12:48:00.002-06:00

I should be showering right now--scratch that, I should be eating right now and then showering--but the blog is sending its powerful forces of persuasion while I'm already taking a moment at the computer.

At my delightful baby shower, I had fun joking with all the women about how we get so READY to have the baby that we're a little on the desperate side. We talked about ways to induce labor, what it's like to be in labor, etc. But I've realized after surprising everyone by making it to church yet again that I don't mind. After all the fun of saying how much I'd love to have her NOW, I've realized I actually still feel patient.
So does Michael.

We're okay with waiting, with letting ourselves be surprised when it finally happens. We still pray that she'll come "soon," which once in a while has made me feel a little silly since I realize that technically, any time she comes is soon. But I don't feel like Heavenly Father thinks I'm silly. Even though He surely gets bazillions of Pregnant Prayers with the same request, I think He's excited, too! This will be an incredible occasion, monumental and vastly important! The arrival of Scarlett is no light matter! She will be sent to us with great joy, and we will receive her with great joy! A little bundle of a bright spirit. Darling Scarlett Estelle.

So we're admittedly hoping for the wonderful surprise of having her NOW, but it will be wonderful whenever the moment comes!

When I was pregnant with Ender, I did not feel patient. It didn't help when people tried to encourage me with the promise that it wouldn't be forever, that it never is. Once I hit 36 weeks, I felt like I might as well be done and have him. It was a fairly rotten pregnancy, too, but I felt like I was clawing at the due date. I couldn't make the days go fast enough, and the last weeks seemed completely superfluous to the pregnancy. Why bother with them if it would be medically "safe" to have him earlier?
I remember many occasions that I broke down and bawled in my prayers to Heavenly Father and begged Him to bless me to go into labor right away. I felt so very done with the pain, the exhaustion, the wait. One specific breakdown was brought on by a little accident on my way to the car between classes. It was winter in Rexburg, and that Tuesday morning I had decided to look a little nicer for devotional and forego my everyday snow boots. I chose some shoes that were appropriate for a skirt but honestly very ugly: my non-slip shoes. I was trying to be wise, you see.
Alas! My non-slip shoes failed me, and I slipped in the parking lot! My backpack swung off my shoulders, my skirt got yanked up, and as I blocked my stomach with my arms, I scraped my left leg across the asphalt, winding up with a huge gash up my shin and knee. It was ugly. I looked around for perhaps a little help, but no one else was in the parking lot. So I stumbled to my car, got in, and promptly started to cry my guts out.
I prayed and cried and prayed and cried for half an hour, at least. I felt so miserable. Plus, my leg hurt.
Some default comfort kicked in finally, my automatic timer Optimism telling me I ought to be done and simply buck up. I cleaned my leg as well as I could with some stashed fast food napkins, and I limped to my French class holding my skirt up so it wouldn't stick to the wound. I felt like apologizing, as if I were trying to show off my scrape.
I'm so glad my teachers were understanding and lenient when I had days like that. I tried not to, so it only happened a few times, but I'm glad it was never an issue, academically speaking.

This time it's like I'm allowed to feel that way, but I'm surprised to find that I really don't feel that way. I'm not hoping to push the date away out of fear or nervousness. Like I said, NOW would be awesome. But it's okay if I make it to my chiropractor appointment. It's okay if I end up seeing the midwife again to be told that I'm not dilated past 3 yet. And it's even okay if I wind up at church on Sunday and make it through primary another week. Besides, singing time is already planned.
(The only disappointment there? I will NOT be there the last Sunday of this month, and singing time for that Sunday will be SO fun! I actually wish I could do it!)

We're not even 100% sure what my due date is. On one record, I've got today. On another, tomorrow. My original math told me it would be the 18th. According to a newer calculation from ovulation, it's the 15th.

Soon...that's good enough!

June Creation

2011-07-02T16:28:00.001-06:00

Aah! It almost got away from me! I meant to do something for Scarlett in June. I mean, something project-y. I did a lot of "nesting," so it's not like I wasn't creative, but here's what I'm counting for that month:

I'm the primary chorister, so this will aid me in teaching July's song "I Love to See the Temple."

I covered a box (with packing paper I saved from IKEA boxes...I love big blank paper). The steeples are made from "book board," which is super heavy duty. It's also meant for fancier projects, but I've saved it for something like five years now and done nothing else with it, so I couldn't be too sorry about using it like I'd use cardboard.

I think this Angel Moroni is very cute. :)

This is to show you the way it's kind of shimmery since I didn't catch it in the bigger pictures.

These are covered cards from a regular deck (regular except that they're Elvis themed, as a prank gift from Maddie! Hah! Elvis and the temple?). The numbers will be used in a game for the songs.

I used numbers instead of actual song titles so it could be reusable with other songs or games.

Tada! :)

New Post

2011-06-24T14:14:00.000-06:00

Apparently my creativity is taking it easy, too-- no special titles came to me this time, not even a good Boring one! Hahaha!

Why is it that taking it easy means a messy house? :D

I usually have to force myself to sit down and take a break, especially with all the nesting going on here! I've had so much fun applying my nesting instincts to every corner of the house! But yesterday and today, my body is driving me back to chairs and couches, being very persuasive in the cause of Relaxation.
I admit I like it. The messy house? Not so much, but it makes me smile because it means I'm taking it easy.
(Although I'd probably smile even more if taking it easy could happen WITH a clean house! Wow!)

I haven't blogged much, and it's not even because we've been busy. Life has taken on an air of anticipation, which completely changes even the busiest atmosphere. I feel like I'm floating* through the days of Waiting, all in a good way. We're close! Scarlett's close! And until she's here, that's probably all I could blog about! :D

*I know! What a choice of words! This belly's definitely not floating! But my mind is, my heart is! Weee!

Who'd Have Thought?

2011-06-16T13:52:00.001-06:00

There are a lot of things I feel so grateful for during this pregnancy! It's not only been amazing compared to my first, it's amazing as far as probably any pregnancy goes!

I...

do not feel huge like a whale.
have thrown up a total of only 10 times (all a long time ago by now).
sleep quite well and hardly notice anymore the times I wake up to turn over.
feel great both during and after exercising.
feel very mobile and energetic.
feel patient, not in any rush.
feel a particularly strong bond with Scarlett.
feel at peace (and excited) about the upcoming labor and delivery!
am not worried. When I do think about some concerns I could have, I'm comforted to know that everything is in Heavenly Father's hands. I trust Him.

I'm grateful for the experience I had when I was pregnant with Ender. There's no way--this should be a "given" fact--that I would trade any of it for anything. And I'm grateful that this time is different! Especially because it has helped the rest of the family feel at peace. Their worries are soothed. I'm still not sure I grasp just how much the family could have worried about me with Ender. There have definitely been worse pregnancies, but we had some pretty serious stuff going on.

What has struck me the most lately is the patience part. I really, honestly feel so happy with the pace this pregnancy has taken! All along it's been just fast enough that I'm always pleased to count off yet another week but not so fast that I feel like I can't handle what's coming. And it hasn't felt slow, ever. I personally find that incredible.

This hasn't been to brag. It all feels like such a nice surprise, almost, that pregnancy can be so lovely! Women have talked like that, and I trusted that for some women it was just that way. But I never really thought I could "have it all." Or at least feel like I do. Sure, my feet get ugly-swollen, but I don't have preeclampsia, and if I stop being nutsy and just sit down, it helps. Who could complain?

(Okay...I could...did...but only once or twice!)

Yesterday, I told Ender to look at my belly while Scarlett did some gymnastics. He saw her make a triumphant wallop of a kick, and I said excitedly "See?! Scarlett moved, Ender!"

He smiled and said "She did."

And he went back to playing with his LEGOS while Scarlett thumped around.

How about that! I was still watching. I still think it's cool every time she moves.

Momming

2011-06-14T21:14:00.000-06:00

My parents finally live close by! Not an hour away! HALLELUIAH!

I am loving it (we all are).

I'm especially loving the fact that I still learn so much from my mom; we were looking at a photo on my fridge of a girl's graduation announcement, and I said "I'm surprised her mom's okay with her showing so much cleavage in this picture."
My mom said "Maybe she's not."
Me: "Oh yeah...I just assumed..."
My mom smiled and said seriously "Never do that."

Oops! Thank you, Mom, for the much-needed reminder! Really. I'm so glad she reminded me of that "little" lesson because it's actually quite important!

Another time? I mentioned that Ender had taken to screaming for the entire time period we'd put him down for a nap. She said understandingly "Yeah...sometimes a book can help..." and I just nodded unthinkingly.
But the next day as I put Ender down for his nap, I thought "Oh! A book! She's right!"
Ender looked through his book, quietly singing the ABCs to himself, and quickly fell asleep.

A long time before, I had considered the book idea but cast it aside--a bit selfishly, because I didn't want to relinquish my control...I wanted it to be clear that nap time was sleep time even though I claimed that I didn't mind if he simply "rested." It's truer now than before that I don't mind if he doesn't sleep, but it's also true that Ender still needs those naps.
Books are now part of every nap, so he's more likely to be quiet (and therefore more likely to sleep just about every time).

I'm so glad to have my mom here! So glad that she's still momming me. :) Especially when that includes a nice foot massage for my poor, puffy, pregnantly-swollen feet!

Yours FREE!

2011-06-04T07:00:00.003-06:00

Mini Story Time:

At bedtime, it's part of the routine to give Ender a hug, a kiss, and a "nuzzle." That's rubbing noses (he got the idea from Corduroy the Bear, whom he calls "Pocket"). Sometimes I have lipstick on, and he understandably refuses a kiss then. He thinks it's funny. But he also likes it-- he will often come to me in the day, study my lips, and say "You need red lips." :D

The End.

I'm in an odd mood this time. Prepare yourself. It might be a little overwhelming. Sometimes when I get like this, I don't know how bad it is for people on the other end.

* * * * *

I got a letter in the mail from Parenting magazine that says "For Ms. Kate Wahauast only."
Hm. Maybe it has money in it. Or maybe it's the deal of a lifetime. I guess I'll never know, since it's not for me...
Of course I opened it. The deal of a lifetime? If you buy a one-year subscription to the Parenting magazine (the Resource for Moms with Young Kids!), you get two years free and a "special" diaper bag--yours free! Guess what's included in this incredible offer?

The diaper bag, yours free!--excuse me, Parenting Bag, yours free!--which is a free gift with your paid subscription,

3-year subscription for the price of a 1-year subscription (if you can't do math, that's 3 years for the price of 1! You get 2 years free!),

And for that unbeatable price, everything that's in the magazine is INCLUDED! Yeah! Don't worry, you'll actually get the magazine content as part of the deal!

Really, it's marketed that way. Item, Description, Rate... so of course, when you buy the magazine, the "tips, tricks and strategies proven successful by moms like you" are INCLUDED.

There's more. But I'll spare you. I probably should have spared you a little more already.

Does anyone else get a kick out of that stuff? Seriously, who are they going to convince? I ended up with a bazillion free issues of Parenting and AmericanBaby and Baby magazines when I had Ender and I never asked for any of them! Aren't they the kind of magazine made for the waiting room in a doctor's clinic?

...am I on dangerous ground here? Are there some very devoted fans who will unleash their fury on my magazine-directed guffaws? I'm not sure I can bring myself to apologize.

If it consoles your magazine loving conscience, be assured that I've always been a little weird when it comes to magazines. They bore me. Even the cool magazines (which are...?). I'm like my cat Nigel: he didn't like catnip. What cat doesn't?! And what person doesn't like magazines?!
I did go through approximately two phases where I enjoyed perusing magazines. They were, respectively, Brio and Seventeen (Brio was sent to us solely because my papa was an Army Chaplain, not because we were anywhere near being Evangelical Christians). What a contrast, eh? Who remembers Brio, raise your hand! Anyone?
Anyone?
...anyone?
....Beuller?

I browsed those magazines as if I were on an urgent hunt for nuggets of teen wisdom. All I remember is a story from an anonymous boy writer who said one time he and his friends were having fart contests in the locker room and he made the mistake of pooping instead of farting. He was only wearing a towel. His folly was witnessed by all as it...um....
And he was scarred for life. Apparently I was too!

But finally I was overcome by boredom with all the ads and shallow non-nuggets-of-teen-wisdom, and I went back to my deep-thinking Hardy Boys. That is, with the Brio stage. After the Seventeen stage, I went back to my deep-thinking breakfast cereal boxes and "clean-harlequin" Dragonwyck (how's that for an oxymoron? Clean harlequin...aww, I still have a soft spot for that one. Fiery Miranda and her agonizing love triangle had me reading all through the night and waking up in a panic to get back to reading when I accidentally fell asleep for ten minutes).

My point? I know how to pick thought-provoking literature and make the best use of my reading time. :D Why ever in the world would I read a magazine? Who wants to be interrupted by all those ads about the right diaper shape for your baby's unsquare bum and how to get the airbrushed look with walmart creamy foundation? And all those deals for things that are yours free if you buy something?

And who wants to read about a boy propping his leg on the locker bench with just a towel around his waste to let loose what he thought would be the most record-breaking fart of the century with all his chili-scarfing preparation only to surprise himself and his circle of admirers with a massive poop?!

Pff. Magazines. I have better things to read.

Like my Rice Krispies box-- we're good friends. I've almost got it memorized! And the only yours FREE thing it advertises is a movie ticket for "Cars 2" if I buy 4 more boxes of cereal at the price of $3.99 per box!

My Babies

2011-06-03T17:53:00.001-06:00

Today I got to rock Ender to sleep while I read "The Little Prince" by Antoine de Saint-Exupery aloud to him. He needed me, and I needed him. I read it to him when he was about 1-- this time around, it's really fun to see what bits and pieces catch his attention and just how much he does understand. We're perhaps more than halfway through with this having been our second session. Each time he has urged me to keep reading when I've put the book down. It's a favorite of mine; this won't be the last time we read it.

I have always loved rocking Ender to sleep. I love to hold him and help him relax. This time, he was so very tired. But he claimed he was hungry (erm, he screamed that he was hungry), so rather than making it a battle, I let him have a little bowl of cheetos, the only solution to his hunger, in his mind. And he was so sleepy that he fell asleep several times with a cheeto in his hand and finally with the last cheeto in his mouth, sticking out halfway. If only someone else had been home to grab the camera for me!
I love to gaze at his dark, long lashes. They were still a little wet from his tears. And he had cheeto crusties all over his rosy little mouth.

Somehow in this last week, it has been more obvious to me how little Ender is. I'm usually impressed with how much he's growing and how big he's becoming (especially when I remember how tiny newborns are in anticipation of meeting Scarlett). Lately, instead, I've been struck by his small features. His perfect little face. His darling childly ways. My boy, my baby. I love this child more than any other in the world, and it's going to be incredible to love another like this and see them love each other. I already know it's going to squeeze the throbs out of my heart.

I do already love Scarlett. It's not even an abstract love, and she's just as bound to my heart as Ender is. But I do think that love will get to leap to a new level when the baby can be cradled in my arms and we can swallow each other with our eyes. Oh, Scarlett. You are loved. You are eagerly awaited.

May Creations

2011-05-30T13:18:00.004-06:00

This month's creations happened a little more smoothly (and legitimately) than last month's. After all, I was sick for most of April.

First off: a most embarrassing endeavor to create a booster seat cover.

Yes, you may laugh. I plunged into this project with a measure of irrational recklessness. Not only had I finished a heroic undertaking of cleaning the kitchen floor (vacuuming, sweeping, spot cleaning, mopping, drying...it was so perfectly spotless and breathtaking that it was the first thing Michael noticed when he got home)..Oh, here's a picture of the loveliness which was much better in person...

...I had also just cleaned out inch-thick layers of grime from the grooves in his booster seat, and I felt that this would be the solution. I jumped in without planning and just hacked into a plastic tablecloth and old towel with my scissors. I made a crazy mess.

A couple weeks later, I ripped it off of Ender's chair. It was getting torn, it was actually HARDER to clean than the booster seat, it kept slipping around, and it looked really stupid. Besides, the kitchen floor had returned to "normal." Bah. So this project = FAIL. But it makes me laugh finally, so whatever. And I am so willing to be the first to admit that I have projects like this. Total rejects. Projects that could have been done better in a bazillion different ways. Or shouldn't have been done at all! Yeah, it happens.

On a better note, I had a wonderful success of a creation this month when I completed a doodle for Rae's (and therefore, my) friend Sarah. Tada!

My scanner's screen is too small to take it all in--it's about 18"x13" I think. That's why the top part is a little smeary looking (the paper wouldn't lie flat on the screen without me creasing it). If I get a better picture, I'll share it. I'm very happy with this doodle! It took me about 8 hours from start to finish. That might sound insane--I don't know, does it?--but I have a process.

Start: I consider whatever my Doodlee (uh, client?) wants in their picture; I ask questions, we talk about personalities, hobbies, etc.
Reference: I collect photos of my Doodlee(s), especially face shots and family group pictures.
Research: I do "research" on their hobbies or favorite things. For example, with this picture, I wanted to make sure I knew what Captain America's outfit looked like. I wanted to get the right shape for Tinkerbell's wings. I looked up the Disney castle and various attractions at Disneyland for the signpost.
Sketching: I practice by sketching the various things I've researched. I also practice sketching faces. That part can be tricky; if I'm not already familiar with the faces, I have to figure out what features are the most defining and which of those fit in a doodle face. It can be hard. It's often the most intense, brain-consuming part of the task.
Composition: This is where I figure out where everyone will be. It usually comes pretty naturally, but there's always some tweaking with spacing and placement.
Doodle! Here I repeat my sketches onto the main paper (which I haven't touched until now). It involves a lot of erasing! :) I noticed when I was finished with this one that there was a massive collection of eraser gloobies on the floor by my chair. I thought they were bugs at first. It made me laugh.
Outline: After my pencil marks are finished and satisfying, I trace over with a fine permanent marker. Sometimes this is stressful because marker, no matter how fine-tipped, is just not as precise as a mechanical pencil. It's okay though. I just have to pay attention. It's maybe the next-most intense thing I do in the whole process because the time for mistakes has generally passed.
Color: So fun. I use anything from crayons to permanent markers. My art supplies are not fancy, but I sure love them. There might be last minute touch-ups, but I'm typically finished with a careful scribble of my signature. It's a very good feeling.

This month I've had some bouts of nesting that got me to rearrange Ender's room, organize closets (is that a never-ending thing?), and end up with room for a crib or cradle finally. It makes me smile when people ask what we're doing for the nursery...*sigh* If we had an actual nursery, I'd sure have lots of fun decorating. But that's not how it works in our apartment. A crib is as far as Scarlett's very own space will go. And that's okay. Babies don't mind, and neither do we.

Nevertheless, I have hopes for a very pretty June Creation that will decorate Scarlett's little area. :)

I'm Asking Politely

2011-05-13T19:33:00.000-06:00

...um...why...why do Mexicans all seem to like the same music? And why do they all seem to like blaring that music with their car windows down as they drive by?

Please, I'm trying so hard not to come off as racist or something. I love these people. And I'm sure that what I'm seeing (hearing) is a generalization...but then why does it happen all the time?

I have to laugh when the Doppler effect makes the Mexican music warp as they drive past. One time the driver's CD even had a skip, and for some reason that made Michael and me laugh like crazy.

It's hard for me to imagine being so tied to such a defined culture that I would be so exclusive about something like music. There are certain things tabbed as more American than other things--beyond music, too--but the whole point of being American is having variety, diversity. So it's really hard for me to imagine being anything but.

Am I narrow-minded?

Tents and Bad Logic (thankfully unrelated)

2011-05-13T12:04:00.001-06:00

As a very early birthday present, I bought Michael a tent. I was going to save it as a surprise...but it was too exciting! And the cool part is it was all paid for by money sent with surveys in the mail (gee, thanks)!
Last night, we dropped our schedule down a few notches by having a snack between breakfast and lunch and then having a late lunch...so we had a late dinner.
It was so nice outside, we decided to play with the tent and put it up while the pork sirloins sizzled on the grill...with baked potatoes, it really felt like a campfire dinner (even though our campfire was some candles we had to bring out since it was already dark by the time we ate)!
It didn't take long to convince ourselves we should sleep in the tent, too. Ender was committed long before we said anything about it. He wanted to bring his whole bedroom out to the tent! Every toy he owns! All of his pillows and blankets!
We even completed his experience by letting him pee on a tree. Woohoo...

We finished the evening off with mini ice cream snacks, family scripture study by flashlight, and a very cozy family prayer.
It was a late bedtime for Ender, but 10:30 is a luxury for us. It took me a long time to fall asleep (having taken a mid-day nap), but I enjoyed listening to Ender's gentle snore and Michael's even breathing. I didn't mind the uneven ground too badly, either. I woke up every time I had to turn over, which was often, but that's not far different from any night. And even though I felt wide awake every time I woke up, it was pleasant to hear birdies or enjoy our closeness and the simple excitement of being in a tent. The only time I worried was when I woke up to hear sprinklers. :| Thank goodness it was the neighbors'!

I drank a glucose drink this morning for a test, chugged it down and tried to doze off again until it was time to head out to the lab. As I settled back into my pillow and blanket, however, I realized that my planning was not so brilliant. All I had in my mind was that I should do the test as early as possible in the morning since I'm not supposed to eat before it's done. I knew the lab opened at 8am, so I took my drink the hour before. What I realized (too late) as I laid down again was that the lab is barely opening at 8am, and they may not be ready to go for me the instant I arrive. And the test should be done as closely within the hour as possible. Oops.
One other thing? I had to pee so badly. And I thought I might have to do a urine test, so I held it all in. I sat on my foot the entire drive. When I got to the lab early, I paced in front of the door as casually as I could manage for about three minutes and finally got back in the car so I could sit on my foot again. Someone finally arrived and informed me that I could go to the bathroom. Oh.

If I have to do it over, I don't mind, actually. The glucose drink is disgusting, but I don't have to suffer much if I drink it all fast. And the needles for drawing blood don't bother me. But really, if I have to do it again, I won't torture my bladder.

Why didn't my brain work? Why is my logic so warped when I'm pregnant? I don't like bad-logic days. They throw things off. Like when I'm supposed to bring Michael lunch quickly, and I think about some groceries I need for his lunch, so I do the grocery shopping first (thinking it's such a great idea) instead of making something else for his lunch. Argh. Duh, Qait, duh. Don't do that.
I don't blame it ALL on pregnancy. I have bad-logic days anyway. But when I'm pregnant, it's worse and more frequent.
And it's different from blonde days or blonde moments because I actually TRY to think logically and sort out a great plan for the order of my errands or whatever. :(

All blondeness aside, tenting was very fun. It's made the weekend feel longer, and it left us feeling cheerful and adventurous. Even breakfast still felt like a camping thing, pancakes and fried eggs. And so far, it has been a genuine experience! I have yet to shower or brush my teeth, and I'm still wearing the clothes I slept in. :D

April's Creation

2011-05-13T11:26:00.002-06:00

I can't say I slacked off because I'm always busy. But my creations were a little less artsy in April. My qualification is that it needs to be artistically satisfying. Our bedroom was mostly a March thing, so I don't feel like counting it. In April, we bought a filing cabinet, and I sorted and shifted from room to room making lots of space and organizing all of our closets and putting things where they belong-- I can't believe what a big difference it makes to just put the papers away!
So the house got most of my attention, in organizing ways. It really was artistically satisfying. I still want something more fun to show for the month, though. :) This isn't especially exciting, and it's not even my own artwork (boooo!), but that's okay. April's work was a different sort.
Here's Ender's new potty chart (and yes, I found the image online...is that not okay? It's a potty chart...). I meant to do this ages ago! And I meant to hand-draw it, since that sounds the most fun to me. But Ender really loves Thomas the Train...

He's got two stickers so far, and he wants more.

I really hope this works.

This month, I'm working on a Doodle for Rae and another for her friend, Sarah. :D And maybe something else...(I'd LOVE to, we'll just have to see).

The Guts to Speak

2011-05-09T13:11:00.006-06:00

As promised, this post contains subject matter far more serious than poop.

Ender was cranky on Mother's Day, but I felt calm about that. I figured "Well, I'm a mother, so even though it's Mother's Day, that will mean being my best self despite Ender not being his best self, and I will be able to feel good for doing my best and honoring my roll." That involved clamping my hand over his mouth during the closing prayer while Michael was still sitting up at the organ. Ender was trying to scream. And wrestle me. I felt terrible for him, but I was gentle. I could even feel the expression on my face, and I knew I was being kind. Of course, who would like having their mouth covered? I'd normally just take him out to the hall...but it was in the middle of prayer! Afterwards, I had to carry him to nursery because he played the noodle-legs game and wouldn't walk. He ended up leaving nursery early as well, Michael told me.

An older man said as I walked to primary that his wife could totally relate and that her son was exactly like that when the man had to be up on the stand. I smiled and thanked him...and I felt grateful that Ender's behavior wasn't his norm (although it's kind of becoming more frequent).
There's a very stupid movie called "Anger Management" with Adam Sandler (don't bother), and the one thing that makes me laugh when I remember it is that the anger therapist recommends saying "goooz frabbaaaa" when you're angry. It's so ridiculous it works. Think it would work with Ender?
He is cranky today, too. Cranky is maybe a mild word for it.

Michael, however, took the reigns with Ender as much as he could yesterday and made the day what I needed it to be: a day of rest! LOTS of rest! I took a huge nap after church...several hours. I woke up for a late dinner, read a little bit, and fell asleep again. Then I woke up around 2am to "get ready for bed" and ended up very awake.

So I finished my book: "Speak," by Laurie Halse Anderson.
And when I finished, I cried a little and thought a lot. I didn't fall asleep for a while.
It is on my mind, and I want to share.

(I describe the book in spoiler style; back off if you must, but I trust it would be just as beneficial a read if you knew the story. It's that kind of book)

You only suspect what's happened at first; you don't get the whole story of why Melinda is suddenly very unpopular and hated by her once best friend. She's become a reject, and on top of that, she's become very withdrawn--to the point that she doesn't talk to anyone about anything. All you know is that Melinda called the cops and busted an end-of-school party she was lucky to attend. But you learn later that she wasn't calling the cops for that. She wasn't calling to tattle on the seniors' drinking. She was raped, and she was so afraid and confused that she couldn't even say anything to the woman on the phone after dialing 911 in an automatic reaction. She snuck out of the party unnoticed and walked home alone.

The school year goes by, Melinda fails her classes, makes a mild yet desperate attempt to make a friend or two, and freezes in terror every time she sees the guy she thinks of as IT. Andy Evans. The guy who raped her, a guy who roams the school halls with a carefree smile, flirting with the girls and being so nonchalant as to twirl Melinda's ponytail if she's in range.

I'm not shocked by rape, not by its existence I mean. This book didn't "teach" me anything, it just opened a typically closed door into a very sad world to which I offer much sympathy. What did shock me was coming to a point in the book where Melinda suddenly wonders "was I raped?"

I gasped. Oh, this question. The fact that a girl is left to doubt. A girl will think that unless she was superwoman and managed to drop-kick the guy across the continent, maybe it was her fault. Maybe it didn't count because she wasn't clear enough in her plea. As if saying "no" isn't enough. Melinda had only been able to choke out a whispered "no" before the guy smothered her mouth with his palm. She couldn't conjure a scream.

I'm uncomfortable with the strange connection between IT's action and my own--covering the mouth to stifle a scream. Thank goodness I know my intentions were pure and the situation wasn't even comparable! My son was being cranky and trying to scream during prayer! But I thought I'd mention the fact that I'm aware of the apparent parallel. And I want to make it clear that I'm not trying to connect the dots. It's an unfortunate similarity in the recalling of the two different stories.

Guys can be too good at convincing the girl she misled him. They can be very persuasive in their argument that they thought she wanted it, that they didn't understand. Even a small "no" is a no, but I believe there are so many girls who feel that because their defense was weak, it didn't count. They think that if they brought it up, the guy would win the case. IF they brought it up.

Melinda finally gears up the courage to write a note to her once-best friend in the library. She finally tells her friend the real reason she made that call at the party. She tells her friend because there's a sudden, new urgency--IT is dating her friend. Melinda is left crying in the library when her friend lashes out in disbelief, claiming that Melinda is jealous. Just sick and jealous.
In further desperation, Melinda writes on the wall in the privacy of the girls' bathroom:
GUYS TO STAY AWAY FROM:
Andy Evans

And at the end of the year, she discovers an endless list of agreement from various anonymous girls in the school. They didn't add names, they added comments and paragraphs and exclamations. And Melinda feels like she could fly...she no longer wants to hide.

There's an abandoned janitor's closet Melinda used all year to disappear to when the need for solitude grew too strong. She returns to the closet a last time to clear it out, leave it untouched, "unclaim" it and be done with hiding.

That's when IT finds her. The girls in school have started talking about him, and he hates it. He knows she started it because the anonymous rumor of his attack on a 9th grade girl at a party is not so anonymous to him. He's just as bad as before, locking the closet door behind him. But this time, Melinda pushes through her strangling fear to scream. To fight. She breaks a mirror and grabs a shard of glass as a convincing weapon to convince IT to finally back off. A passing hockey team still in the school pounds on the door, comes to the rescue. And Melinda's free. Hurt, still healing, but free.

(Guess what? That kind of resolution is rare. Revenge on the rapist? Hardly ever happens. Just like girls hardly ever speak up. Girls trap themselves in the past with the what-if cycle, wishing and wishing and wishing they could alter history).

Rape is ugly. That's no reason not to talk about it, though. I'm grateful among all the information that managed to break through to me as I grew up, what impacted me the most was the fact that so many women say nothing. I grilled it into my head that if anything, anything like that happened, I would speak up. I would talk, I would tell.

But I still know the feeling of withdrawing into a silent world. The damage is an awful kind. I have not been raped. And isn't that bold...to put it even as "vaguely" as that. But as with any abuse, there's an undercurrent of spiritual damage that can be so crippling. It's so hard to get past it. It separates you from feeling normal anymore, and you want to be invisible. It's too frightening to be noticed by men because suddenly you understand that danger could be anywhere, anyone. Even if a girl is left with her virginity intact, her virtue is sensitive enough that being forced or hurt at all leaves her sense of virtue in a fragile, vulnerable state. The instinct is then to protect. And the instinctive way to protect? To hide. It's easy to let life become a layered existence, working behind a mask that feels like a shield.

That's why I felt shocked yet again when I read through the author's Q&A section at the end of the book.

"Have any readers ever asked questions that shocked you?

I have gotten one question repeatedly from young men. These are guys who liked the book, but they are honestly confused. They ask me why Melinda was so upset about being raped.

The first dozen times I heard this, I was horrified. But I heard it over and over again. I realized that many young men are not being taught the impact that sexual assault has on a woman. They are inundated by sexual imagery in the media, and often come to the (incorrect) conclusion that having sex is not a big deal. This, no doubt, is why the numbers of sexual assaults is so high.
I am also shocked by adults who feel that rape is an inappropriate topic to discuss with teenagers. According to the U.S. Department of Justice, 44% of rape victims are under the age of 18 and 46% of those victims are between the ages of 12-15. It makes adults uncomfortable to acknowledge this, but our inability to speak clearly and openly about sexual issues endangers our children. It is immoral not to discuss this with them."

If we won't talk with our children about it, where will they turn? Likely nowhere. Perhaps a peer can listen with some sympathy, but they're likely as helpless as the victim feels (catch that please--feels, not is). I would mention here, in case a silent observer has found this, that the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network (www.rainn.org) comes highly recommended as a source of help for victims who have been assaulted, both recently or long ago. Especially if they're holding back from talking about it.

I think one reason girls don't want to talk--(it happens to boys too, I recognize, but I would rather use the word "victim" less often because it sounds so helpless)--is that people rarely want to hear it. Doesn't it make you uncomfortable? When a girl begins to launch her story, doesn't it make you cringe, ducking into your seat? You don't want to know. Because rape is ugly.

Another reason, like Laurie Halse Anderson said, is girls are afraid of being brushed off-- with that very painful evidence of boys not understanding what the big deal is. That was my main reason for shedding some quiet, rough tears last night. Boys...oh, boys. You uneducated boys. I suspect they don't even mean to be insensitive-- they probably posed their question with deep honesty: What's the big deal? I don't understand.
It's all wrapped up in a person's agency (appropriate substitute word in clarification here: rights) and chastity (beyond virginity--though I believe a great percentage of rape victims are virgins, less apt to grasp the situation or know how to react in the horrifying newness of what's going on).

What's been lost in the sexual media avalanche is the fact that sex is an intimate, private thing. It ought to be the exclusive (and wonderful) right of a married couple, yet here it is for the world to devour as a pleasure activity common like dessert. Uncomitted like a vacation. Shared like a phone number, and sometimes even less guarded than that.

There are all sorts of problems rape could trace back to. It's not all pinned on the media. But for an average teenager who hasn't had to deal with family problems, pornography, abuse or even the growing confusion of gender roles, the outrageously incorrect message is still being broadcast that sex is not a big deal. The matter of consent or age plays only a side role in media attention. That's the yucky side, so no one wants to hear about it. It's usually presented as soap opera scandal if it's ever addressed--overdramatized and nicely resolved so that you can forget about it when it's over.

Don't get me wrong: I am grateful that "Speak" presents a closing that involves hope, because hope is why victims are not helpless. If they can dig out of the overwhelming despair long enough to simply believe hope exists, that's all the access they need. I don't think resolution would be possible without the Atonement. In fact, I know it. That kind of spiritual scarring is not eraseable with a self-help book or classes in yoga. No amount of positive thinking and deep breathing will do any good without the healing love of the Savior, the very one who knows your heart through the core. Because He understands (perfectly) and because He loves (purely), all victims of rape or abuse have someone who can lift them up and make their spirits whole.

It's not easy (can someone say DUH?). It's not exciting or desireable--a lot of soap operas give drama-hungry girls the idea that rape is a thrilling, awful tale to add to your list of what makes you an interesting person. Rape usually has the opposite effect, making its victims withdraw from life and abandon confidence.
In fact, even with remarkable healing, rape leaves stubborn scars. Those scars burrow deep into the brain. They're ugly, and they don't go away without a fight.

Is there any way to further convince those uneducated, confused boys that it's a BIG DEAL? If they only thought a little harder, allowed some room for sensitivity, wouldn't they see that? Are they really so blind that there's no hint in their minds of the seriousness of it all?

As much as it has the potential to "get old" in assembly halls of high schools like abortion and drug abuse, the effort has to keep moving on. It takes bravery, it takes guts, to talk about it as it really is. To say WHY, not just WHAT. They all know what rape is. But how is it they don't all know why it's a big deal?
I think of the title of this book as more than just an action. It's an order.

SPEAK.

The Reveal

2011-05-07T12:04:00.008-06:00

First, check out the BEFORE.

The headboard here is actually the front of our old antique piano (the only bit we have left of it).

We love it--a better picture would be nice, of course. It has beautiful, detailed carving.

Maybe we'll use it as a headboard on a guest bed someday.

This dresser is part of a bedroom set Michael grew up with (the remaining pieces are in Ender's bedroom, and this dresser is now our makeshift TV stand in another room).

The mirror was free at a trading event our stake organized a year ago.

Michael and I have never been ashamed of our bedroom...it's a great place to be.

And we've always done what we could to make it beautiful and inviting. We were given great advice as newlyweds; I don't remember if it was a book or a friend, unfortunately (the two are much the same thing in my mind). The advice: don't leave your bedroom as the last thing to get attention in your home. It's easy to make other rooms a priority since anyone visiting your home will likely see the living room first and you probably spend a lot of time in the kitchen. But the bedroom should be a room you and your spouse love to be in, a room that shows your personalities (and yours only--don't bother with pictures of the kids) and is something of a sanctuary even from the rest of the home. Your marriage is of utmost importance, and since the bedroom is quite a strong symbol of that unity, respect it.

Over the years, we've made little changes to dress up the atmosphere. We finally had the opportunity to do that in a big way this year, and the only thing that is the same between the Before and After is those mirrors in the corner! We're still not finished, but that's the way this kind of thing goes. Bit by bit. We're just glad we could jump in with a big change for once.

With a big thanks to IKEA,

The AFTER:

We absolutely love our plant. It completely changes the atmosphere...and it makes us smile.
It hangs over the bed just enough to give the romantic illusion of a canopy without invading the room.

The bed features sliding night stands--they're like miniature bookshelves that can recede into the headboard. They are pictured halfway out.

Our mattress can be raised at the foot and/or the head for better reading comfort. I loved this feature for when sitting up was the only way to keep my cough subdued, and it's very nice to have the option of lying on my back without the full weight of the baby crushing my ribs. We'd do it more if it weren't a little awkward for Michael to sleep that way!

Obviously, our room gets a lot of light now!

What you can't see is that the white, sheer curtain has an artsy pattern to it. Somewhat floral. The lighting in this picture might not also show how the red tinge of our record player and jewelry cabinet compliment the red on our bed (and the green of the plant).

I LOVE the way the plant's leaves curve into view with the round mirror.

This dressing table was added to our new furniture collection at Michael's insistence.

I didn't fight hard-- but it really feels like a gift to me because I love makeup, and Michael loves that about me. He thinks it's wonderful when I can pamper myself and dress up.

I love being able to sit down and relax while I spruce up (even though my pregnant belly keeps me from pulling the drawer out while sitting).

With a view of our boring closet doors, :) here is our full-length mirror over a storage trunk.

I know it's hard to see details--blame it on me!--but that's a bowl on the trunk.

We put little slips of paper in the bowl with romance ideas for dates and favors.

We even have a cute little name for it: the Desire-a-bowl.

Yes, we are cheesy. No, we are not ashamed.

The mirrors are a project in the works; we have more to add to the walls in a similar pattern.

The idea currently on display here is that it makes our plant look deeper, and since that corner is one that draws your eyes when you come in, it plays with the light just enough that you don't feel like your eyes have walked into a corner when you walk into our room.

Figuratively speaking. Whatever.

As for further ideas in completing our room, we plan to add portraits of ourselves, hem the sheer curtain, put up more mirrors as mentioned, and perhaps play around with some more lighting tricks (specifically targeting the ceiling light). What you couldn't see for my lack of photography skills is our lamps on the bed and dressing table. They're like this, in varying sizes.

Ahhh.

We love our room so much.

Oh Wow...

2011-05-06T13:32:00.001-06:00

That's a lot of poop-themed posts at once, isn't it?
Hm. I'll try to have more intelligent thoughts next time.
The mommyness must be getting to me.

Poop or Chocolate?

2011-05-06T13:27:00.001-06:00

I came to the bathroom to discover a long smudge of brown on the toilet seat cover.

I thought if Ender had made the effort for once to actually poop in the toilet but wasn't fast enough, I could forgive him. Because that would be progress in the potty training saga.

But if it were chocolate? What was it doing on the toilet seat cover?

On closer inspection, I discovered what had to be crushed peanuts in the brown. We had eaten some chocolate covered peanuts with Grandma, after all.

But what if he'd just pooped some of the peanuts?

Um...

I bent low to smell it...nothing.

(And I did think of a certain movie where the mom actually TASTES the brown when her son won't answer her question of whether it's poop or chocolate...but no, I did not get that adventurous).

I think this has happened a number of times. Oh plus there was that one time that my toe kicked some dark little ball across the carpet, and when I investigated more closely, I discovered it was a poop pellet. Aren't animals supposed to be the ones who leave pellets?

Eventually we learned it was indeed chocolate (further evidence of a brown smeared hand towel helped solve the mystery).

I'd have taken a picture except it looked so remarkably like poop that I couldn't bring myself to risk it being mistaken for poop.

Well, and I just never got around to it.

Ballet West's Bolero

2011-04-27T19:57:00.000-06:00

I convinced Michael to write about the

beautiful experience

of attending Ballet West's performance of Ravel's Bolero!

You've got to read about it.

It would be even better if you could attend a performance of it,

but Michael's description is wonderful.

Monkey See Monkey Do?

2011-04-25T17:26:00.000-06:00

Being a parent is hard.

I feel a little brave saying that, too, because it seems like--in the church, especially--it's tradition to call it something else. We say parenting is a challenge. Or it's "a little rough sometimes" or just that it takes a lot of work. It seems like I've encountered lots of euphemisms. But it's true, isn't it? I'm not one to dwell on the negative--never have been--so I can see how these "euphemisms" are ways to think healthy, be positive, and rise up champion. Still...parenting is hard.
I'm feeling a bit ground down by it lately. Maybe that's the wrong way to say it. But I'm at a point where it's hard to see how well I'm doing.
I suspect I'm being a good mommy, but sometimes that's not quite enough encouragement!

When Ender poops his pants, he seems completely oblivious to every approach I take in trying to help him understand why he needs to poop in the toilet. Today he had a little victory and pooped in the toilet--we celebrated, we praised and congratulated. It was very exciting. And then he pooped in his pants. And his attitude was exactly the same about it all.

Lately, Ender has become a picky eater. I try to see the ways this is normal, since I know there are lots of picky eaters among children. Kids often like plain food, and they often narrow it down to an exclusive list of what plain foods they like. But I've had a hard time putting any meals together with this pregnancy. I don't blame it all on the pregnancy, it's always taken a little more work and effort for me to do what most mothers seem to do naturally when it comes to mealtimes. So when Ender's hungry, I feel guilty somehow, and then I have the problem of figuring out how to feed him a meal that he'll actually eat so he doesn't starve.
I'm all about encouraging him to just eat what's put in front of him...but if he doesn't think he'll like it, he won't touch it. He'll sit at the table forever and never once touch the food.
I'm kind of worried that it has become a control issue, even though I've always been wary of that and done everything I can think of to avoid that problem.

I was a slow eater as a kid, and I'm still comparatively slow. I was never aware of it bothering my mother. I remember being the last at the table pretty much every meal. But I was eating...and I knew my mother's gentle rule of at least trying a bite of whatever "weird" foods were part of the meal. The only way it ever became a problem was that sometimes I felt rushed in our lunch period at school, and eating fast is simply less enjoyable to me.
Ender is a slow eater. Especially when it comes to lunch time. He knows nap time comes afterwards, so he's in no rush to begin with. And he's sometimes sleepy already, so he slows down even more. I've thought about ways to flip the schedule, but he really does take a better nap when his tummy's full, and the nap is more likely to happen after lunch than before (and if it's later in the day, he won't go to bed on time, so that's not an option I like to take).

Things have been like this for something like a year, probably. I've mostly just dealt with it, in various ways. But lately Ender has a geared up temper, and it hurts my feelings when my "fruitless" efforts are met with yelling or something. I'm so sad to see Ender get angry. I feel like it's my fault, even though I know I try so very hard to not be the example for anger. I make a valiant effort in controlling my own voice, and even if I have to restrain him firmly, I'm ever diligent in making sure that I touch him with gentleness. I often tell him to look at me when he gets angry so he can see that my face is calm...and so that hopefully he sees the love in my eyes. Sometimes my voice strains in the effort to keep calm, but honestly, I rarely break! So when Ender yells "LOOK! Look at me!" and then talks back with alarming attitude, I feel almost mocked. I feel hurt. It makes me wonder if the way he's acting is what he sees in me.

And then I feel upset that I'm upset...as if the way to better deal with it all would be to remain unaffected. I probably set myself up for that, thinking that my success is based on how much I let his actions bother me or rile me up. That's what parents are often told, right? To remember that your kid's just being a kid, this might be a phase, don't let it get to you, bla bla bla. Am I wrong in actually feeling hurt then? Because I do! Sometimes, parenting is hard, and sometimes, parenting hurts.

Plus...I just have to throw this in...I want so badly for these main problems to be behind us by the time Scarlett's born. Ender shouldn't be having regular outbursts of anger like this, and I hope he'll be at least a little better about eating (and pooping in the toilet). I know I'll have to deal with things like that once in a while, but I guess I mean that I worry about Ender's temper becoming a habitual problem.

My son's not a bad boy. I'm not, for example, embarrassed by him. I know he's an innocent 3-year-old sweetheart, and I know his spirit is an especially tender one. Maybe that's why it hurts when he gets like this...it's just so not normal for him.

I know I'm not alone! Other mothers have faced this! But I've never heard them talk about it...

It's just gotten especially tiring, I suppose. I hope it's not tiring for you to read about. I suppose I just want a little sympathy, since I feel like my efforts have been all but ineffective with getting him to eat well and to close the poop chapter on potty training. Michael and I have had some encouraging discussions, and he's ever loving and supportive in what I do as Ender's mother. I've already cried on his "cellular shoulder" today (while he's at work, on the phone), so I don't mean this as a plea for help outside of his help. It's not like the burden is impossible with only the two of us (and our prayers). Not impossible, but maybe it could be lightened with a little extra help...
Maybe I don't even know exactly why I came to my blog for this. After all, it made me cry again. We all know I don't like crying.

*sigh*

My apologies for getting lengthy on the personals.
And...my love to you for reading. Thanks.

I'm going to take advantage of this beautiful thunderstorm and curl up with a book. I have a gloriously enormous stack of books from the library (I doubt I can get through all of them before the due date). It's wonderful.

POOP!

2011-04-19T10:27:00.000-06:00

This is funny:
When I think Ender's doing something sneaky and I ask "What are you doing?"
He says "I not doing."

This is not funny:
When Ender and I have a pleasant, seemingly understandable conversation about pooping in the toilet instead of his pants, he does it again. Not five minutes later.

I tried to be patient. My irritation still made itself evident in my voice. Ender said "I love Daddy."
Yeah, me too.

Hmmph. >:(

4th Anniversary

2011-04-16T16:05:00.000-06:00

After such a continuous streak of posting, I actually miss blogging with the very few days I've "missed." Hah, how many days would that be...two? That is silly. :)

But the fact is: I am sick. I have been sick since Sunday, and what began as a head cold has turned into something very nasty. I'm stocked up on medicine till I get to see the doctor on Monday. In the meantime, being up gives me monstrous coughing fits that leave me sore and exhausted (those infamous "cardboard coughs," which have morphed into the worst of their species by now). At least my medicine is helping me breathe through my nose finally! I let myself get distracted while putting together some food for Ender and me today and cleaned out the fridge a little bit, being up for a total of 30 minutes or so, and that completely wiped me out. After I ate, I dozed on and off for a couple hours.

Ender is very good at following his daddy's instructions in taking care of me. This morning, he came in and kissed my arm (better than the face right now!) and said "You will sleep now." Then he went out and closed the door. I heard him laugh, and he opened the door and said "not so loud!" like it was so silly of him to forget and close the door roughly. So he tried again, a couple times, and finally managed to close it without making a sound at all.
He's been very polite and sweet with me all day, very patient with my tiredness.

We were graced with a little miracle this week, though: I felt markedly better on our anniversary. We reserved a room in the Peery Hotel for a great deal (it's a lovely, quaint little place over the Macaroni Grill where we had one of our meals on our honeymoon--coincidentally). We ate in wonderful restaurants and went to the ballet. The Ballet West performance of Ravel's Bolero was perfect! Incredible! So artistically inspiring. I'll convince Michael to write about it on his blog.
We had a wonderful time! The little miracle really was a blessing, an answer to prayers--the very next day, my body crashed back in to full sick mode!

Do you know...people used to look at us incredulously when we'd mention that Michael and I have never argued. They'd say "Oh, give it a few years. You're still newlyweds." Guess what? We still have never argued, and even though 4 years may seem like nothing to the couples who have been married much longer, it does stand behind our word quite nicely. Long before we ever met, President Hinckley said he and his wife had never argued. Both Michael and I were impressed by that and wanted the same in our eventual marriage.
I used to say that Michael and I are just not the personalities to argue, but it's more than that. We have simply made it a priority to communicate as clearly as possible from the very beginning, and it's fully worth it.

We don't consider ourselves better than other couples for not arguing. But our marriage is sweet, everything it should be...and we know our efforts to communicate have been a big part of that.

Four years! Four really beautiful years where we've honestly grown to love each other more and more! Even with difficult trials, there's been no strife between us. That's made these four years happy.
I love Michael. He loves me.
Our anniversary was the sort that makes us even more excited to spend the rest of our lives together!

That's all I wanted to say, really. :)

DAY30 - A Picture of Me Today and 20 Goals I Want to Accomplish

2011-04-14T07:00:00.007-06:00

QAPTAIN MOMMYPANTS

Gotta Share!

January Creation

By the Way...

December Creation

Faith

November Creation

October Creation

September Creation

A Lesson Long-Awaited

I Did All That?

Blast From the Past: Imaginary Friends

O, Christmas Letter, We Ever Forget Thee...

Names

New Year! 2012

Oh, Oh, Oh, it's Magic! Or Just Murphy's Law.

Take That, Staring Men!

Plethoric Momly Snappishness

Doodle Day: Sleeping Reality and Possible Doodle Fail

Random Q-toids: Voices and Faces

Qusings: Running

Questions for Q: Ask Your Kids

Blast from the Past: The Count of Monte Cristo

Blog Newness!

Emotional Salad

He DID Care! ...and 200?

August Creation

July Creation

Oopsy!

A New Faith Experience

Time Capsule: Questionnaire by Maddie

Scarlett's Arrival

Soon, Whatever That Means

June Creation

New Post

Who'd Have Thought?

Momming

Yours FREE!

My Babies

May Creations

I'm Asking Politely

Tents and Bad Logic (thankfully unrelated)

April's Creation

The Guts to Speak

The Reveal

Oh Wow...

Poop or Chocolate?

Ballet West's Bolero

Monkey See Monkey Do?

POOP!

4th Anniversary

DAY30 - A Picture of Me Today and 20 Goals I Want to Accomplish

Story Time: A Kidney Stone Adventure

A Gloomy Car Day

DAY29 - In This Past Month, What Have I Learned?

DAY28 - A Picture of Me Now and Last Year - How I Have Changed

DAY27 - Why Am I Doing This 30 Day Challenge?

DAY26 - Places I Want to Visit Before I Die

This Dream Came From MY Brain?

Scarlett Estelle

DAY25 - What You Would Find in My Bag

DAY24 - Share a Story From My Past of Which I Am Ashamed

A Little Educational Rant

DAY23 - What is Something I Crave?

DAY22 - What Makes Me Different

DAY21 - Share a Picture From My Day

DAY20 - If I Had 3 Wishes, What Would They Be?

DAY19 - My Nickname and Its Birth

DAY18 - Plans/Dreams/Goals I Have

Caring Within Boundaries

Laundry Day is Enforced

DAY17 - Someone I Would Want to Switch Lives With For One Day (and Why)

March Creations

DAY16 - Something I Could Live Without

DAY15 - Share First 10 Songs Played on Shuffle

DAY14 - Something I Ate and 10 Confessions

DAY13 - Write a Letter Telling Someone Something I Could Never Tell Them

DAY12 - A Picture of My Room (w/out cheating and cleaning) | Share a Secret

DAY11 - A Picture of Something I Dislike

Oh, Just Tell it to My Face!