Why Men Think being a Stay-At-Home Mom is Easy

Today was my day to sleep in, a pleasure I insist on only when Zane pressures me to stay up late ("It's Saturday tomorrow!" Yeah, talk to me when the kids are teenagers). When I got up (at 8:40 because the kids came in to wake me) I had three projects for my OTHER other job. During this time Sabrina, with the instincts of a 3-year-old, found the graphite Zane has in his capacity of Cub Scout Leader And Pinewood Derby Fuhrer. Fortunately there was not much in there, because Sabrina (did I mention her 3-year-old instincts?)had previously emptied much of it. However, there was still enough to spread all over herself, the floor, and, of course, Sasha. Baths were in order, but Zane had to "go get wood for the fire."

I finish my projects, to find the kids have not eaten, but Zane has managed to play video games. While I showered, the kids emptied the remains of TWO cereal bags of the nasty end-of-bag crumbs. While video games were being played.

My hypothesis is, the men do whatever fun things they normally do, with little attention paid to diapers, meals, or bedtimes, and none at all to cleaning. Then they wonder why we don't have more time to work for their office. Silly men. To quote "An Arthur Christmas," "Thanks to my wife, who does whatever women do while men are at work."

P.S. I hope this post sounded affectionate and slightly patronizing, not irritated. I feel affectionate and patronizing, not mad. In case you were wondering.

Jemonis

This morning, Sasha woke up at 5:30. I think he has a cold, or at least is plugged up because of teething. Anyway, he was basically up, despite binkies, hugs, and (don't tell my dentist!) a bottle in bed. Fortunately for me, Spencer was with us last night, so Zane had to get up in time to take him to school. So, I got to sleep, er, stay in bed, until 7:45. Bliss!

I keep asking Sabrina what she wants to name the baby, hoping she'll come up with a good name that I can tell people about, and they'll say, "Oh, how cute!" Usually she just comes up with the name of another baby she knows, like Ross or Samuel. Today, though, she came up with "Jemonis." Sadly, though, this would be naming the baby after Sabrina's father, who died. According to her. She had a whole story about him being in the hospible, and "I can't believe it." It was cute, if a little morbid.

As you may know, my house got broken into yesterday. The criminals cleaned my house and left dinner. So, if that's you, can you come back? I made Christmas cookies last night.

Christmas Elf

Dear Christmas Cleaning Elf,

I got home looking forward to making dinner after cleaning the kitchen, and collapsing in a messy house. I was confused as I opened the garage, though. Why was it so organized? I knew Zane hadn't done it! Maybe Zane Sr. helped.

So, I brought my kids inside. There were some diapers that I knew were in the garage for the past three weeks. They were inside. Weird.

Then...the kitchen. Clean. With a note. "You've been kissed by the Christmas Cleaning Elf." Elf, psssht. You're an angel, no question. My house has been picked up, vacuumed, and dinner has been prepared.

My only regret? All those garments, the ones that are destined for the fire? Yeah, they were sitting there on the couch. You can just pretend those weren't there.

With gratitude,

Molly

Emerging

I know it's been a long time since I last posted. I feel like I'm emerging from a kind of dark place, where I didn't want to blog and cried a lot. Could this be my third pregnancy in 3 years in the winter, or the long-awaited Sargent genes making their appearance? I don't know, but I think it's some of both. Regardless, the light is coming back and I don't cry ever hour on the hour anymore, so onward and upward!

Sabrina is in the throes of potty training. I'm not sure exactly what "throes" means, but if it means tiny trickles in the potty, followed by a treat, followed by a big dump in her panties, well, that's the throes. Really, I feel I'm not doing a good job at this potty training stuff. She also hits her brother a lot. On the other hand, she shared with no prompting her candy cane with him that Santa gave her last night. I guess she can be on the "nice" list.

Sasha, in the past week or so, has had an explosion of talking. Not only can he say "mama" at 6:48 AM when I wish he'd practice "dada," but he can also say deer, dog, woof, kitty, keys, Sasha, grandma, grandpa, Dora, Spongebob (just kidding mom. Ha ha!), cow, meow, juice, bottle, and binkie, and many more! He recently came out with "Santa." Also, he now recognizes and can say "Jesus." Aw.

Yesterday I took the kids to see Santa. Sasha had fun until he actually had to sit on Santa's lap, at which time he started screaming. Sabrina, on the other hand, spotted Santa getting hot chocolate before his house opened, and just went and stood right next to him, staring up at him. Good thing he's so jolly! She went right up to him when it was her turn, sat on his lap, and said "I want a beautiful doll." She has also been known to say "I love Santa." I'm trying to impress upon her that Christmas is Jesus's birthday, but it's not sticking. Half the time I ask whose birthday is on Christmas, the answer is "Santa Claus." Well, she'll get it soon. Maybe when Benn is acting it out on Christmas Eve with the nativity scene.

My baby, growing up

Although Miss Sabrina is still crying and whining more (way, way more) than I want her to, she is just so sweet, and she's growing up good. The other day she came in and said, smiling like she knew how cute she was, "You make my heart super happy." Awww.

And lately, when being pregnant, having two kids, having full responsibility of the house and taking care of every bit of crap in my life, a job, another job, another job, and trying to keep clean clothes not just in my house, but actually in closets, kids throwing up and having diarrhea, having a cold, feeling alone, when all this seems to much and I resort to either weeping or tantruming, she says, "You be okay, Mom." In a sweet voice, while petting me and nodding. I feel so unworthy of her, when it's my own weakness that is driving her to comfort me. I'm supposed to be the grownup, and instead it's the 3-year-old. Yeah, that makes me feel good. I think I'll go talk to my daughter to feel better.

At the Doctor

I had my last doctor's appointment on Halloween. Yup, I'm pregnant. Not that there was any doubt, I just sometimes still can't believe it, despite the fact that I look about twice as pregnant as I am. Anyway, my doctor said with a very professional face, "Next appointment you'll be 15 weeks. There are some tests that check for fetal abnormalities that we can run next time." Well, I'm no pregnancy novice. I've played this game before. I asked him if there was a point to having the test done. He said, basically, you can find out if the child has Down's or spina bifida, so you can terminate. I then said, "So there's no point to having the test." I wouldn't say that he looked relieved, but you could tell doing abortions -- or referring out for abortions, whatever -- was not his favorite part of being an OB. He agreed there was no point to the tests, and besides, it's not a really accurate test.

I would be sad if this baby were physically imperfect. It would be really, really hard. But she, or he, is still my baby. That is all.

Halloween

We started as all good Americans do, by carving pumpkins. Sabrina told me the shapes, and I complied, as all good mothers.


Sasha was sooooo cute. I dressed him up as his daddy. Perfect, don't you think? I drew in the goatee and glasses with eyeliner. I think it turned out well.


Sabrina got a Snow White (No White, in Sabrinese) costume from Harmony. Hooray, I thought, Halloween done! Besides, I have a No White costume too!



I took Sasha to a few houses. He was really down with getting candy from the bowl, but wasn't so good at just getting one. He was really, really excited the first time he got some M&Ms. (By the way, did you know that one M&Ms is still plural? I think it should be one M&M, but no. I still refuse to say, "Give me one M&Ms." It just sounds wrong.)

Once I took Sasha home, Sabrina and I went out for ANOTHER HOUR. Every time I suggested she was tired or we should go home, she insisted, "I want more trick-or-treating!" She was very good at saying "trick or treat" and "danks" at every house. By the end she was asking me to carry her pumpkin because it was getting heavy. HER PUMPKIN WITH CANDY IN IT. You KNOW that means she was not in her right mind. That means I took her home.

Overall, it was a good Halloween.

Stake Conference

For a family with two little kids, stake conference can also be known as "Sunday vacation." Today was such a day. But...President Monson and Elder Anderson were speaking at the Dee Events Center. A terrible place to take kids, I'll tell yah, but I wanted to go. Solution? Let Zane sleep in and, and my mil says, "tend." I call it parenting, but regardless, Zane stayed home with the monkeys, and I went to conference.

There were a couple of things I didn't like. Let's get them out of the way first. Okay, there was only one thing, really. Elder Anderson is an apostle of the Lord, right? So he must have some cool, uplifting things to say, right? I'm sure he does, but we didn't hear any of them. We heard a tribute to President Monson. Honestly, I felt like we were at his funeral. Plus, he was sitting right there! Awk-ward. I would hate that, if I were the prophet.

What I liked: honestly, there were so many. The Primary General President spoke (I forget her name). And while her white ruffled super-high necked shirt was unfortunate, I'm not going to comment on it, at all. She gave a nice talk about being a good parent without just addressing the children, who wouldn't have been listening anyway, especially if they were home being "tended" by their father, or being sing-songy. Elder Marlon Jensen also gave a nice talk about the Holy Ghost. Oh, and a woman gave the closing prayer! Now if we can just get a little feminine equality going on during GENERAL conference, that would be great. Then, their was President Monson. Wow. You know how he speaks. What you might not know is how amazing he is in real life. I was in tears several times during his talk. He is just so tender, so kind, so genuine. He spoke on helping people surrounded by difficulties, especially in the context of coming back to church or the family. I've heard he's getting a little...old, but he was right on his game today. I feel very lucky to have been there, and without having to entertain anyone. A good Sunday.

Normal

On Saturday, Mom and I planned for her to come up for a visit. I was remembering, I swear...until Saturday morning, of course. I was doing some transcription work, we were cleaning the basement, and it slipped my mind. So Mom called and said, basically, you remember I'm coming, see you in 45 minutes.

Then, I did what every red-blooded American woman would do: freaked out at the state of my house and cleaned until she got there. Seriously, my house was a disaster. Let's just say: I had the previous week off, it was the weekend, and Spencer had been there for three days already. Yeah. The 45 minutes I had, which fortunately ended up being an hour, was just enough for me to not be humiliated. Yay for moms who give advance warning!

We also went shopping for fabric. I want to make Sabrina a quilt for Christmas (I KNOW!), and we needed our basic supplies. It took 2 1/2 hours. That's a long time. But I'm happy with what we got, even though now I have to do it!

Sabrina has been waking up during the night again and coming into my bed. She then keeps coming in until I let her sleep on my floor. Well, last night she went back to sleep in her bed, but it's frustrating. I kind of blame Zane for this, because he has always been afraid of the dark, so his "bribe" to make Sabrina go to bed is to leave the light on. In her room. Or the door open with the hall light on. In other words, he is teaching her to be scared of the dark! She was totally, totally fine until he started that garbage. At least in going to bed. I worry she's waking up a little in the night, and then getting "scared" because it's dark. Dang it. I hope she stops it soon. Especially now that my fall break is over. I have a feeling 6 am is going to come real early on Wednesday!

Illness

When you think Scarlet Fever, what do you think of? Personally, I think of Little Women, Beth, and eventual death. Apparently, it's not like that anymore. Who knew?

Scarlet fever is caused by a bacteria, which is why there's no vaccine, and also why it's totally curable and no big deal, now that we have penicillin. It's caused from the strep bacteria, actually. It has a short cycle, with only 2-4 days between exposure and death. Er, before symptoms present. Geez, it's hard to forget about Beth!

How do I know this? Alison's (she's my babysitter) youngest might have scarlet fever. So of course, I looked up all the symptoms and watch my children vigilantly for signs of malaise (they feel bad) and rashes on their necks. None so far. I also looked up scarlet fever on the Internet to find that yes, it can cause all sorts of bad results, if you are retarded and don't take your sick kid with a high fever and bright red rash to the doctor. Phew! I'd do that. At the very least, I'd call Mom, who would say "Don't be retarded! Take that child to the doctor!" That's what she said (more or less) when Sasha had RSV.

It's not that I don't want to relive ANY Little Women (grand tour of Europe, balls, general 19th century life all sounds cool for awhile) but Beth's death? Yeah, I still cry when I read that. Who doesn't?

Primary Program

Next year, the Primary program will be way more interesting, because Sabrina will be in it. However, I'm a teacher of the evil 5-year-olds (semi-evil), so it was pretty cute today too. We started and ended with the classic "Scripture Power" which is way, way exciting. The cutest, of course, are the Sunbeams. We have some twins that live near us, and they knew their lines perfectly, including "stripling warriors." That got a good laugh. The other good one was a "great big giant Goliath." That was a little ad libbed.

I sat next to a rather immature 4-year-old, who liked to clap, count, and bounce. Two kids kept asking me if it was time to go yet, and I had to keep telling the kids to sit down and stand up. But at least I had the words to the songs. On the plus side, the kids were really prepared, and most of them had their lines memorized. Better than the 10-year-olds, who acted like they'd never seen their lines before, some of them.

During this time, Zane had to take Sasha home, because he can't really get through church. It's his nap time, and let's face it, church was not designed for babies, despite the "spread the faith through reproduction" plan. But Sabrina wanted to stay. So she got to sit with Makenna and Avery while I was on the stand. She was fine, happy, and I never heard her. She was better behaved than when I'm with her! She's becoming so big and capable. I can't wait until next year when she gets to say something like "big giant Goliath."

Updated tech!

Well, it's been a long time since I was a good poster. Let's not lie, it's because Zane's laptop was on the fritz, and so I had to go downstairs into the cold, spider-infested basement away from my kids to post. What's changed? It was my birthday. Zane asked what I wanted. A new purse, or shoes. Maybe some kitchen gear, like a kneading cloth (did I mention I bake my own bread now, without a Bosch? That's right, I knead it. My great-grandmother would be confused as to why I need plaudits for this). Zane said these things were boring, so he bought me a new laptop. Then he got jealous when I had the laptop for approximately 16 seconds, so I think the office is buying him an iPad. Right now.

The other reason I've not been posting a lot is that I'm working again, and that's making me more efficient with the time I do have. Monday = Laundry Day, Tuesday = Clean the House, Friday = Bathroom Cleaning Day. When is blogging day? Now that I have a laptop, it's every day! Well, more frequently.

Finally, the reason I may not have been blogging much lately is that I want...to...talk...about...being pregnant! I'm only 9 weeks, and there seems to be some sort of ban on talking about it before people can tell/you are past the first trimester. Let's face it: baby #3 in less than 4 years = you can tell at 8 weeks, if you care to look. Also, I haven't told my work yet, so it seems a little odd to talk about it when they (you! if you're from SLArts) don't officially know.

I'm kind of panicking sometimes about this pregnancy. I thought, for some reason, that it would take awhile to get pregnant this time. I mean, it took 2 months for Sabrina and 1 month for Sasha, so this one would probably take, like, six months, right? Nope. Zane and I are the most fertile people in the world, apparently. TMI? Anyway, Sasha will be 20 months when the next is born, and Sabrina 3 1/2. 3 5/6, I guess. Still, not old. What was I thinking? Huh? I'll give you a clue: 35. I'm currently 363 days from "advanced maternal age." That biological clock was getting pretty dang loud, and I did want to have one more. Success, I guess. No need to panic. Everything is....pretty good.

Sasha

One year ago yesterday, my baby boy was born. In the past year he has learned to roll over, sit up, crawl, pull himself up, and take steps. He has gone from whimpering to babbling to saying "woof." He used to be happy to be held, but now only mama and dada will do -- sometimes. He would sleep through church, then flirt with old ladies, then tried to play the piano throughout Sunday school, now can't get through a meeting.

I remember the tiny "honking" baby of 9 pounds, 2 ounces who really did look so small and defenseless in the big baby crib at the hospital. I can't imagine where he went.

I remember feeling so relieved that he was going to be born. His due date was the 12th, and the 13th was a very depressing day for me. I didn't even try to look cute. No, the husband's old t-shirt for me that day. Fortunately for my sanity, Thursday the 16th was chosen for his birthday. Despite my easy birth with Sabrina, Sasha needed a c-section. Or, as Shakespeare put it, "Ripped untimely from my mother's womb." Extra credit if you can name that play.

I feel so lucky to have this boy. He sleeps well (at least until 5 am, when he wants MOM!), plays well with Sabrina (except when I'm holding them both, when he wants just me), and loves his daddy (which is the best of all sometimes!).

Happy birthday little one. I love you so much.

Daddy?

At church yesterday, I was substituting as Singing Lady (this is the official title of the calling, even if a man holds it. Children's Chorister my !@%$). Therefore, Sasha went to Priesthood with Daddy. Ergo, Daddy had to take Sasha home after Priesthood. Was Sasha really being inconsolable? Maybe. He did fall asleep on the 4-minute drive home.

So, Daddy was not in Sacrament Meeting. However, a bald man with glasses facing away from us WAS. Sabrina called out "DaddyDaddyDaddy!" and ran to him, putting her head on his lap. It was not Daddy. She did not realize it for a few moments, then looked up. Then she was as eager for Mommy as she previously had been for Daddy. Bwaaaahahaha! Sorry, baby.

I did the same thing when I was about her age. My own Daddy took me to his school, West High, and was standing around talking to his basketball players. Let me tell you, when you are only three feet high, all denim-clad legs look the same. It wasn't my fault that the leg I grabbed was some sophomore jock. Anyway, Sabrina, I totally relate!

School, Gardening, and Leaving my Kids

Today, I harvested my potato crop. If you can call it that. The grasshoppers have decimated the tops of the potatoes, leaving them wilted, with just the veins in the leaves still extant. So, I dug up eight potatoes, the largest of which was the size of my fist, and the smallest a bit smaller than a large marble. I think I planted more potato mass than I harvested. Oh well. My mother-in-law will provide with garden produce. I think I need more fertilizer. However, I did make tacos with my own, home-grown onion yesterday.

On Wednesday, I started school. Since I'm teaching Wednesday, Thursday, and some Fridays, the kids had already been to school for two days when I started. I have to say, I loved it. I think my students will be really fun, although there's a lot of Boy Energy (BE) in my afternoon class. BE is great and fun, but a little goofy, and let's be honest, a little goes a long way for a teacher. Still, it should be an adventure.

In the grand tradition of Salt Lake Arts Academy, however, a student was transferred from my class on Thursday, and I wasn't told. I didn't THINK he was sluffing on the fourth day of class, but you never know with BE. I emailed the office, who called him down to the office, who then sent him to tell me he'd been transferred. Honestly, I can't think that the BE in my class will diminish much. My other class doesn't have much BE: there are 18 girls and 7 boys. Poor things.

Sabrina was happy as could be both when I dropped her off at my cousin Allison's for babysitting and when I picked her up. I think she has a cousin crush on Harmony. Sasha, though....But remember, he's 11 months and has been babysat about five times total, including twice this week. I'm sure he'll be fine. He just has to start taking naps longer than ten minutes for Allison.

Overall, a successful, productive (ha!) week.

Growing up

Sasha is getting so big! In the past week or so, he has started to say, like, three words! Not a big deal if you're 30, but when you're only 11 months, it's a big step into the brand new world of communicating! So, his first word was "woof." And he says it when he hears dogs, sees dogs, and even occasionally on command. Just not when anyone else is around, of course, because no kid performs on command. Sasha can also say "boom" as in "boom, I just knocked down another tower and so now I'm going to laugh maniacally," and he also does a sort of "hchchchc" growl thing when he wants another bite of food. Sparticus taught him the first word, Grandpa Joe the second, and he learned the third from Mommy. Because I'm verbal like that.

Sasha has also started taking steps. He lets go of stuff and takes about one step before a) falling, b) dropping to his knees to crawl, or c) leaning forward, head first, and expecting to be caught. So far we've caught him every time, but I'm not looking forward to the betrayed wail of the uncaught, crashing baby.

So keep it up little man! Before I know it, you'll be running away from me, taunting, "You gotta catch me" like your big sis. I love you forever.

First word

Sabrina's fist word was "quack." And her nickname was T-Bone. Sasha just said his first word, and it is "woof." And his nickname is Sashimi. I'm sensing a pattern here!

Sasha can also wave, stand up, and just took his first step. I'm not quite sure where the time went. I swear, I had had Sabrina a lot longer when she was 10 months than I've had Sasha! Also, I'm starting to think about future kids, but I feel Sasha was just born! And he's still a baby! I can't want another one, can I?

Sasha has also learned to climb down stairs the right way (backwards, that is), but he can only do a stair or two. On Sunday we were at Mom and Dad's house, and Sasha went off exploring. After a few minutes I heard him crying. Oh, whatever, I thought. He's fine. Turns out, he wasn't fine. He had climbed up their stairs and was sitting at the top, unable to get down. Poor thing!

Happy Birthday Baby!

I can't believe it's Sabrina's third birthday today. She's getting so big, but she's still my baby! I've been telling her the story over and over about the day of her birth. Tonight as I put her to bed she said, "Tell about Brina as a baby."

This year Sabrina (aka T-bone) got a little brother, Sasha (aka Sashimi -- do I have a thing for food? Yes). She's been a great big sister. She shares and loves and worries when he cries. She also takes things from him and hits him sometimes, but hey, we can't be perfect ALL the time. Overall, though, she has handled the addition of a brother with sweetness and love.

Sabrina is able to do so many things now. She ran all the way down to the end of the street today, ate her spaghetti by herself (I made her take off her clothes first), and even used the potty several times this week. I'm happy, and sad. I never thought I could love someone this much.

Spencer's New School

Spencer did not do well the last half of 4th grade. But, because he comes from a stable home and is a good kid, the teachers, principal, and school didn't care that he basically failed almost every subject. Well, darn it, we care! All four of his parents care! Therefore, we have enrolled him at a charter school, Quest Academy, in Roy. Quite a few of the local kids go there, and it will go up to 9th grade starting next year, so he can stay there until high school.

Mari, Spencer's mom, and I went to visit the school. I'm really excited about a lot of things. It has certified teachers, a new building, two computer labs plus four mobile computer labs, and a bunch of other cool stuff. They are very focused on academics as well, with specific reading and math strategies to help both low and high kids. I feel good about it.

While Mari and I were there talking with the principal, though, she introduced us to one of the 5th grade teachers as "Spencer's two moms." I had to quickly jump in to say we were not gay, or polygamists, but mom and stepmom. Phew! Glad THAT got cleared up!

Cop out

It's been awhile since I posted, so I'm doing the cop out blog post and catching everyone up instead of being witty and clever. Here goes.

We just got back from a week at Lake Powell. Karen and her family were there as a last hurrah before Austin starts year 2 of med school. It was great to be with them, and everyone else. Sabrina was generally great, and so was Spencer. Sasha tended to wake up two or three times a night, and since you can't let a baby cry when 32 other people are sleeping on the same houseboat deck with you, to say nothing of the 30 or so other people on the other houseboat nearby, so I just nursed him back to sleep. Hopefully I won't pay the price for this very long, but he hasn't slept through the night since.

When I got home, I found I had made a radish. A radish! Too bad I don't like them, but I did it! I mean, I planted, Apollo watered, and God gave the increase. So to speak. Well, while I was gone I guess God watered too, because I couldn't get anyone to water for me, but it rained three or so of the seven days I was gone. It looks like I'm also making tomatoes successfully, as well as onions. The carrots, potatoes, squash, and pumpkins are still just leaves, but maybe I'll make those as well. It's looking good.

My poor car

In cleaning out my car yesterday I found:

Six water bottles
Five fuzzy blankies
Four pairs of boots (plus shoes and sandals)
Three long-lost binkies
Two loads of laundry
And an overdue library book (doo doo dooooooo)

Time to clean out the car? I think so.

9 months

I took Sasha to his 9-month checkup last week. Because of a change in insurance, I had to go to a new clinic. They started asking me all these questions: Does he walk, does he point, can he feed himself with a spoon? No, no, and no. Um, you know he's 9 months, right? Oh, 9 months? I think these are the 12-month questions. Ooops. No wonder Sasha seemed so behind! Three months is a third of his life! That's, like, 11 years for me! It turns out despite not walking at 9 months, he's just fine. That's what you get for having a PA student do the exam as practice before the official, full-fledged PA comes in.

Also at the appointment, the student PA asked if Sasha has teeth. Nope, no teeth. I hope he gets some soon. I feel for teeth. Oh! There are two! Two teeth came in simultaneously the day of his doctor's appointment. He'd better not bite now!

Lagoon

We went to Lagoon last week. I'll get pictures up eventually (probably) but imagine this: a beautiful, sunny day. Friends and family. A screaming daughter who is too scared to go on the boats. A screaming daughter who won't ride the whales. A screaming daughter who wants to go home before we've even gotten into the park. And an angelic son who hung out in his stroller all day without crying.

Sabrina would not ride the whales at all, but she did ride the boats with Kellen (who is her "best friend" now). She cried for the first two times around the "pond" but only looked really sad and scared during the last one. She rode the Kon Tiki boat with me twice. The second time, when it was over, she said, "I'm okay, mom." When asked if she wanted to do it again, she said "no." Really fast. Sabrina did ride the horrible Music Express with Zane, and didn't cry. She also watched me ride the wonderful Rocket that shoots you up in the air and then drops you, and that scared her.

Sasha fussed when I put him back in the stroller, but that's all. He is perfect. I think he already has the middle child personality. Not that he is going to be the middle child anytime soon, I'm just sayin'. He's so mellow and sweet, and just goes with the flow. Unlike my (almost) 3-year-old.

Crying and other news

Will the crying never end? The whining, the sobbing, the hitting in a tantrum...Dealing with 7th and 8th graders looks better all the time! Sabrina is crying because she is 2 and sleep deprived, Sasha is crying because he just woke up and was hungry, and I wanted to cry because it just wouldn't stop. Judicious feeding and timeouts, however, have held crying in abeyance for now. If it comes back, we'll need another timeout. For me. One minute for every year of my age. 33 minutes in the bathroom by myself, baby! Timeouts are such a good strategy.

In other news, Spencer tried out for and made a state-level soccer team, Rampage. In other words, $500 plus $30 a month plus tournaments. That's the bad news. The good news is that this means Spencer will great coaching (we assume) that is not his father, or ANY father on the team, and will really progress as a soccer player. I think this will be really good for him.

Sasha just finished off Sabrina's cheese sandwich. Wheat + dairy, plus an egg in the bread. Sigh. 13-year-olds can eat anything AND feed themselves with a minimum of mess, at least that I have to clean up. Of course, they're not nearly as cute as my boy.

Such a good reader.

Sabrina didn't want me to leave last night as I was putting her to bed, and asked for another story. (Incidentally, she's been asking for things "one more time" a lot lately, but hasn't got the concept that you only get to ask that once.) So, since I was heartless and would not read "Are you my Mother" to her, she read it herself. I need to get it on tape, but it went something like this, at least in parts:

"Where my mother? Looook up (look up here). Loook down (look down here). I go look for her. Down, down down. I can walk. You my mother? No. No cat, no chicken, no dog, no moo (cow). Do I have mother? Yes! Look way, way up. Look way, way down. A nort! (snort) I want my mother! Oh, a nice nort (pats the nort). Back in the nest. There my mother (puts her "wing" around my neck)." Needless to say, this got her out of going to bed for a while. Twice.

Backyardigans

It's been a crazy week in our backyard! First, we had a backhoe clear out a new terrace for the playhouse and trampoline. Then, I moved some of the lovely, lovely topsoil from the mountain where it was dumped to my garden. Today, Zane Sr. rented a trencher and my Zane started a sprinkler system while I moved more dirt and planted my tomatoes. We were outside all day.

When we got the tramp up, Spencer got right on and began jumping. Sabrina watched closely until we suggested she get on. Then she ran for the house. I think she's had too many experiences of trampolines with older cousins. Anyway, we convinced her to get on and hold Zane's hand as she walked around. Then, she started toward Spencer, got scared, and ran back to Zane, sort of like a cat who gets scared halfway across the road. But soon she was even jumping by herself. So brave. Anyway, we hope to have a functioning yard by the end of the summer. Yay!

Car Mystery

Because I am awesome, I drove over the curb as I left the bank yesterday. Immediately, a buzzing type sound started from the rear of the car. Turn off radio: nope. Too easy. Go faster, go slower, shift into park at a stoplight: no change. Honestly, I'm getting kind of worried. What did I do to my poor car?

So, I get to Costco and turn off the car, and lo, the noise does not stop. This should be comforting, perhaps, but it is not. I go to the back of the car. The noise is louder back there, and seems to be coming from the space under the seats. In moving items on top of the opening, I move Zane's electric razor, which has been in the car since our trip to St. George two weeks ago. It is vibrating, and the source of the noise.

Phew.

Gardening

The prophet said to plant a garden. I'm hoping he didn't actually say to harvest anything from it, though. Here's why:

I've never planted a garden before. This is all new terrain (heh)for me.

Also, despite months of promising, Zane did not rototill my garden area. So, besides being clay-y, it has also never been cultivated, so I'm essentially planting onions in clay blobs big enough to make a pot with.

This is Eden, and not The Garden Of. It could still freeze this year, and could freeze in September. Most plants that we eat are known for dying if they freeze too much.

So, there you have it. Points for obedience, none for eating the fruits (oh, I'm killing me!) of my labor.

A Good Helper

Reasons it's good to have Sabrina "help" me mop, using a Swiffer mop without a pad:
1. She thinks mopping is fun, a lesson she'll quickly unlearn as soon as she's old enough to do it herself.
2. I never need to put MY mop in the bucket, because there is plenty of water on the floor already.

Reasons it's bad to have Sabrina help me mop:
1. I take a lot longer because I keep having to move Sabrina out of the way, and remopping areas she mops after me.
2. I never need to put MY mop in the bucket, because there is plenty of water on the floor already.

It's a tie. I guess I'll keep letting her help me, because she is so dang cute telling me, "Mommy, I mopping!"

A Getaway

Zane has to get 20 or so hours of CLE each year. I couldn't remember what it stood for -- Continuing Learning Experience? Mom pointed out with surprisingly little smirking that it was probably Continuing Legal Education. Right. That's what I meant. Anyway, to get 5 1/2 hours in two days, Zane went to a long day in St. George, and it was a great time for us to get away from the Daily Grind. We went down for one night. With our two kids. Let's just say, with the four of us in one hotel room, there was no time for US time.

Still, it was fun. I learned things I really didn't know. Like Sabrina hums herself to sleep like this: breath in, hum out, breath in, hum out. It was quiet, and very cute. Sasha didn't really want to sleep, he would crawl a few steps? Crawls? whatever. Then lay his head down. Then crawl a little more. By that time he was at the edge of the bed, so Zane had to grab him and put him back in a safe place, where the process would repeat. Oh, and Zane slept with Sasha and me with Sabrina. I repeat what I said about co-sleepers: crazy.

Anyway, the late night meant they had a 2- or 3- hour nap on the way home, which was great. It's nice to be home, though, with the kids in their own beds.

Who are we?

I am glad, glad, glad that Osama bin Laden is dead. He's a bad man with a lot of charisma, which is a really scary combination. Think Mao, Pol Pot, and (yes, wait for it) Hitler. I wish he would have died years ago and I'm glad he's dead now.

And yet....

I was disturbed watching the celebrations outside the White House. It bore a disturbing similarity to the al-Jazeera footage of Palestinans celebrating the death of Israeli soldiers, or Muslims celebrating 9-11. Except our citizens weren't also shooting AK-47's into the air. The gatherings at Ground Zero of people holding each other, crying, relieved, that was more...I'm not sure. American? Civilized? Dignified? Tasteful? Can you be tasteful when celebrating the death of someone?

I'm satisfied. I'm glad he's dead. I'm glad he's not going to hang out at Guantanemo or be tried in Pakistan (ha! that would be a JOKE)or New York. But I don't like the wild celebrations of 20-year-olds who were 10 when 9-11 happened. I just don't like them. It makes me question who we are.

Slides

Remember Sabrina crying because she didn't want to go down the slide? Remember? I bribed her with candy to go down? (By the way, Marilyn says it's a reward if it's for them, a bribe if it's for you. So, this was a reward. A bribe would be candy for being quiet in Sacrament meeting. I've never done that. Ever.) Anyway, at Spencer's soccer game today, Sabrina wandered over to the playground and went down the slide. Repeatedly. Over and over. Perverse child.

She then went to the top of the big slide and looked down it, then went away. About five minutes later she came back and went down. It was a little fast for her, so she ended up sitting on the ground looking a little startled, but then Zane and I, who she did not know was watching, started cheering and clapping loudly. Once she realized she was so fabulous, she started jumping up and down and clapping and smiling and laughing. Adorable child.

Sleeeeeep

Sasha has been waking up screaming for an hour lately, when he's not sleeping through the night. That's our two options: sleep through the night or scream for an hour. Last night he slept all night!

BUT: the dreaded door creak happened at 2:00. Suddenly, without my being aware of it, Sabrina was snuggled next to me. This is so dang cute in theory and so dang tiring in reality that it's always hard to solve. So, for about a half hour I did nothing except enjoy her little self. Then the squished-ness, wiggling, and turning overwhelmed the cuteness of it, so I took her back to bed, where she demanded a song, got a few whispered stanzas, and went to sleep.

Likening the Scriptures

Let's say, in 1977, you disagreed with the Priesthood ban. You thought Blacks should be ordained to the Priesthood. Were you right or wrong? As I see it, from the perspective of 2011, there are three options:

1. You are right, because the Priesthood ban was "the wisdom of man," specifically racist man of the 19th century.
2. You are right, because God Himself said so a year later.
3. You are wrong because the time isn't right yet, and God will do all things in his time, not yours. This means you'd be wrong to believe in the Priesthood ban after 1978.

I'm not going to judge between these answers, because I think good, believing Mormons can go with any of these three. I think it would be pretty harsh, though, to just say "You're wrong," since President Kimball himself was not all that jazzed about the ban.

Okay. So, if you disagree with the Priesthood ban in 1977, what are your options? You can:
1. leave the church.
2. bury your feelings and live with the cognitive dissonance.
3. speak loudly and often about how wrong the church is.
4. pray. You can pray to understand the ban, or for God and His leaders to change it. Or both.

I think for most Mormons, the obvious "right" answer is #4. You pray. That's what President Kimball did, too. He prayed a lot for God to change the ban. And his prayers were answered pretty definitively in 1978, when the ban was rescinded and all worthy males were allowed to hold the Priesthood. I think it's important, though, that there were many Saints praying for the end of the ban, not just the Prophet.

Here's the "likening" part. If you don't like that women don't pray in General Conference, or *gasp* don't have the Priesthood, or some other thing in the church, you may be wrong. I think God will let you know. Or, our descendants or future selves may go back to my first three points at the beginning of this post. Maybe we're only wrong from our time-bound perspective, one which God does not share, or maybe we're right. So, whatcha gonna do? Leave the church? Speak up loudly and apostately? Speak up quietly and lovingly? Pray? Honestly, I don't think anything is going to change until we, as a church, are ready. So, if you think something needs to change, go back to the Primary answers. Pray, and see what God tells you.

Being Prepared

Mom used to work with a woman named Kitty. Kitty was always prepared. Going to see Haley's comet? She had hot chocolate. A softball game in June? She had a blanket in the car. I always wanted to be like Kitty. But I am not.

Sabrina, Sasha, and I went to the park on Tuesday. It was a beautiful day, and we'd only be gone an hour. They had coats and blankets, but I didn't want to take the diaper bag, because we were walking (or riding in a stroller, depending on our ages and ability to walk) and it's a pain to take everything. You know where this is headed, don't you?

Blowout. Back, legs. Practically as soon as we got there. I know Kitty, and I'm no Kitty.

We had fun anyway. Sabrina was terrified of the swings (even though she liked them a year ago, that's a third of her life ago) and of the slide. But I told her she could have candy if she went down the slide alone, so she did. Anything for sugar! Sasha liked the swing, though.

Cool Kids

I was thinking about "the cool kids" the other day. All right, it was while talking to Karen. I think it's hard to be a teenager, and everyone has it rough. But in my experience as a teacher (and therefore with a better perspective from when I was a teenager myself), cool kids aren't quite as self-assured as the non-cool kids think. They have more drama, get into drugs and sex more quickly than their regular-kid counterparts, and cry more in the counselor's office.

Naturally, I'm not saying all cool kids are druggies. It's just that teenagers tend to look up to, admire, and want to be liked by the popular kids, but everyone has problems, and very few teens are comfortable with themselves. Even the cool ones. I wish everyone could know that when they're wishing they could be different from what they are.

Apparently I'm feeling philosophical. Enjoy.

7 months!

Sasha is 7 months old. I think I had Sabrina a lot longer when she was 7 months than I've had Sasha. Regardless, he is extremely advanced. He can now crawl, although not very quickly. Pretty soon he's going to be unstoppable! He also claps, in a sort of one-handed way, and can feed himself baby cereal bits.

With Sabrina, I was so excited to give her "real" food. That was before I realized how messy and inconvenient it was. When she was only 5 months I was already eagerly spooning rice cereal down her somewhat unwilling throat. Sasha, though, has been ready for food since 5 months, but I've only recently summoned the courage and energy to do it. He really, really is happier with food though. He will happily sit for 20 minutes eating his baby candy while I eat my food and feed Sabrina, because she likes to be a "baby" and have me feed her. She's even shown interest in, how do I put this, eating like Sasha. If you get my meaning.

In a few minutes Sasha will wake up from his nap, and doubtless amaze the world with his continued progress. Meanwhile, I will try to get Sabrina to stop regressing and feed herself. The life of a mom.

Things I don't have a testimony about

Here is what I don't have a testimony about.

Women are more spiritual than men.
Women are better nurturers than men.
Men are better leaders than women.
Men are worse than women and should be castigated in GC.
Women are better than women and should only be praised and put on a pedestal in GC.
Not wanting to be bishop is a good reason for women to not have the priesthood or be in real leadership positions. (Anyone who wants to be bishop is a psycho and probably wouldn't be a good one, for one thing.)
Women should not pray in General Conference.
Women should not be in the Sunday School Presidency on any level.
Women should not be the finance clerk for the ward.
Bishops should be able to override a Relief Society President's choice for counselors. (YW and YM Presidents'? SS President's? SUre. RS President, HP Group Leader, EQ? no. Make suggestions or discuss? Yes.)

These things that I lack a testimony of have no bearing on my testimony of the GOSPEL. And I don't think they should. I'm just so sick of some of the cultural...stuff...in the church.

Lunch and other fun.

Yesterday, Dad made the drive to Ogden to go to lunch with his grandkids. Oh, and me. We went to Applebee's, also known as Appbees. I will tell you, it is not easy to go out to eat at naptime with an almost 7-month-old (wow! It goes by SO MUCH FASTER with your subsequent kids!) and any time with a girl who is "two anna HALF." Sasha needed to be fed and go to sleep, of which he only got half. Sabrina needed to climb on Dad, talk to the people at the table next to ours to tell them she is two anna HALF and that her name is Brina and a lot of other semi-unintelligible comments. And, of course, as soon as Dad was holding Sasha, "Papa, hol me?" Fortunately, Sabrina is so cute doing all these things all we can do is dote on her.

The other fun I had was last night. Zane woke up in the middle of the night screaming profanities because bugs were eating the box. The box. The, what's it called? The box. The FILING CABINET. It was somewhat amusing even when I had just been wakened from a deep sleep, but it was even funnier in the morning when we could both laugh about it. Actually, we were both pretty hysterical about it. I really like that Zane can laugh about himself, 'cause this was freakin' hilarious.

Measles?!

There is measles in Utah. Probably at least 10 cases, and likely more to come. You know the common thread between all cases? THE KIDS WERE NOT VACCINATED!! WHAT A SURPRISE! I'm sorry, but not immunizing your kids, at least by the time they are in school, is just irresponsible and freeloading. And it puts Sasha at risk, because he's not immunizable age. Yeah, HE probably won't die of measles, but he'll be plenty miserable, which will make ME miserable, besides having to quarrantine myself for TWENTY-ONE DAYS so the non-immunized freeloaders don't get it! Plus those immunosuppressed kids who could DIE if they get measles.

I'm sorry, but if your kids are 5 or older, get it done!

Now my rant is over. For now. You can tell it was a bad one because of all the caps.

Modoc: a review

For our sisters book club, we are reading "Modoc: the greatest elephant in the world." Or some subtitle to that effect. Anyway, I have some thoughts I thought I'd share while it's fresh in my mind.

First of all, this really was an amazing elephant. Besides saving the lives of almost 30 shipwrecked people, helping people out of a burning circus tent (I kid you not), working as a teak elephant, being taken captive by communist soldiers, getting lost-and-then-found in true Black Beauty style, and dying just after her life-long trainer, she was also a movie star. I cried. I was so gladit was a happy ending.

All of that said, what fun is a review without some complaints?

My sister-in-law Victoria has taken to editing her books--sharpie-ing swear words, etc. I find this distracting, because I keep trying to figure out what badword works there. HOWEVER: I'm on her side in this one. She said she ripped out one whole page because it describes elephants breeding. This sentence is true in the same way "Playboy shows people having sex" is true. It does not tell the whole story. Do I want to hear the length of an elephant's EDITED or how he EDITED the female elephant? No, I do not. I don't find human porn appealing, so think how much less I want to read elephant porn. And honestly? Unnecessary to the story, which is a great sin. Elephant sex just for elephant sex? No, thank you.

Also, I have the same problem with almost all books of someone's whole life. You either skim everything or leave a lot out. Some things got skimmed in this book and others got left out. This is not the fault of the book, it's just what happens. But we get a really good story, which abruptly ends and five years go by in a sentence. I prefer books to go into detail about one event, but that's tough in a true story.

Sometimes I couldn't tell if something was a flashback, or was a vision, or was a dream, or we had skipped ahead...Maybe I shouldn't have tried to read it late at night. Additionally, I wanted more real information. Give me a map of where Modoc lived, in what country she was a teak elephant, what years she lived, and so on. I wanted to be able to tie the story to the real world more effectively.

Modoc. She was quite an elephant. Even though I have some issues with the , I sure can see why she was a worthy subject for one. I think I'll look her up when I made the Great Cross-Over.

Gray, Gray Days

In Eden, the Garden of, there were never this many gray days in a row. In Eden, UT, I feel I have not seen the sun in days. As in, a thousand years is as a day to God. That kind of days. Oh, March teased us with 60 degree weather, but it's back to snowing yesterday and today. WHAT HAPPENED TO SPRING?

All joking aside, I really need some sun. We're above/away from the inversion up here so we didn't have the horrible yellow days where you practically have to wade through the air, but it's been a long, gray, cold winter. I wish for global warming and glorious, glorious summer days. Please remind me of this when I write my blog this summer on not being able to sleep because it's so hot. Right now it seems like a fair trade.

When will it end?

Last night I got to bed about 11 since Zane had a late soccer game and I had to give him a play-by-play of the RSL game when he got home. (That's Real Salt Lake, the soccer team. They're in the CONCACAF championships, and just advanced to the final round, the first US team to ever do so. In other words, we are awesome.) At 12:30, Sasha woke up. At 1:30, Sabrina appeared in my bed and took a lot of doing to get back to sleep. In fact, she finally agreed to let go of my hand when I suggested she sleep on the floor in my room instead of in her bed. At 3, Sasha was up again. And also at 6:30. Today, I was not very happy.

I was talking to my sil Victoria this afternoon about the problems our kids will or might face, like bullies and sexual abuse and gangs in schools and teachers who don't like them and difficulties with grades...and I wondered, are these the good ol' days? The days I don't get enough sleep because the kids are home, instead of the days I won't get enough sleep because I'm waiting for them to come home?

Sometimes people say they wish they could be a baby again since all they do is eat and sleep, or a kid because they don't have to worry about earning a living, or whatever. (Of course, no one ever wants to be a teenager again, unless they peaked too early and their best days were in high school. Those are some sad specimens.) The problem, of course, is that babies don't really have it any easier than the rest of us. Sasha has only been breathing, pooping, and seeing things for six months. That's a lot of work if you've never done it before! We are all faced with developmentally appropriate challenges, which means that once we've mastered pooping or fractions or whatever we don't think they are real challenges anymore. But they are, to the people who are only just now getting to them.

How does this all tie together? Well, the grass is always greener, for one thing. Right now I long for the days of worrying if Sabrina gets a 1590 on the SAT. But when she and Sasha and possibly other future babies are teenagers, I may think I never had it so good as when I had only two kids who were both safely in their crib/Dora bedtent at night. Also, I think both kids and parents go through development together. I guess right now I just have to deal with the developmental stages of my kids, and try to enjoy them as best I can. Even on what feels like 90 nonconsecutive minutes of sleep.

Sealing

Today I got to go to a first: a sealing of an already-married couple, my friend Jared and his wife Amanda. They also got their son, Paul, sealed to them. Here are some thoughts:

1. Yay for eternal marriage! How great to be together forever!

2. There is no way Sabrina would have put her hand on mine and Zane's for the 20 or so seconds it would take for the sealing of her to us. Especially with all those strangers around! No, she would say "no" and pull away and want to be held. There is something, after all, about a 4-year-old instead of a 2-year-old. Paul did a great job of getting sealed and being the subject of about a million pictures afterward.

3. Most of the people there were relatives of the bride, a few relatives of the groom, me, and (surprise!) a friend of mine, John, that I have barely seen since high school. But we have known each other since we were six, were in the same ward and schools, and hung out a lot. So, as the only non-family memebers and since almost everyone else was, for lack of a better term, old, we spent the whole time catching up. It was funny how the years didn't matter. We were just Molly and John.

4. Sometimes, just being Molly and John was a bad thing, because I think I, at least, reverted a little to 17-year-old Molly. As the sealer droned on just a wee bit, my mind drifted to some of the inside jokes we had. If you don't remember, inside jokes of 17-year-olds tend to be, well, not really temple appropriate. This did not keep me from giggling silently before focusing my attention on the chandelier and forcing my mind back to holy things. Fortunately, that became easy once the ceremony really started.

So, congratuations Jared and Amanda! I'm really happy for you.

Reflections, er, Expressions

A few weeks ago, I was asked to judge the written portion of the Reflections contest at the local elementary school. Except since the school is not associated with the national PTA, it's not officially Reflections, it's Expressions. Clear?

Here are some of the gems. I wish I'd wriien them down when I had them in front of me, but these are just those I remember. The theme is "If I had a wish."

"She came slowly. (It's very hard to run fast when carrying a heavy ladder.)"

"And when I went to the moon I took my Zhu Zhu pets."

Okay, I can't remember any more. Dang, I should have written these down when I had them! My favorite, the grand prize in the 5th-6th grade category, was poem that went something like this:

If I had a wish I'd wish for a thousand shelves and I'd fill them with my stories.

If I had a wish I'd wish for a thousand books and I'd read them all.

Etc. Except hers was way better. Dang, this is what you get for planning a great blog entry in your head and then not writing it until the words are all gone and all you have left is a great idea. Well, I hope you are all good pretenders. I gave out one grand prize, then a maximum of five first prizes and five second prizes for each of the three grade categories. Some had obviously written theirs the night before, but some were really good, or really cute. Not usually both, but hey, they're kids. I'm too used to junior high-aged essays for some of their stuff, I think.

Poop Chronicles

Warning: once again, this post should not be read by the squeamish or any non-parents. Unless you like poop.

So, Sasha has had very few foods in his life. He has, however, had antibiotics, which may be the reason he did not poop for five days. I know what you're thinking: no poop for a week or longer is normal in newborns. (What? You're thinking "gross, poop! Where is my "back" button to get to another website? Where is your sense of adventure?) But Sasha usually poops every day, so five days is a long time. At Marilyn's house last night, she encouraged me to give Sasha a suppository. For those of you who don't know (I didn't), this is a laxative put directly into the...well, you get the idea. It didn't make him poop.

So, all night, even in my sleep, I'm hoping the boy is pooping. Hoping, praying, imagining awful scenarios. This morning, the least awful scenario came true. Poop everywhere. Legs, back, front, pjs, blanket, sheets. And what a happy boy we had today!

It's really Sasha's fault...

Broke another rib. Yep. Playing indoor soccer again. Umm-hmmm. I'm convinced my last pregnancy just LEACHED the calcium from my bones. Or I'm getting old. Or both. I need to get some calcium to try to make up for my increasingly fragile bones. However, I have gotten a meal from a visiting teacher and one from my mother-in-law, so it's not all bad.

Today I actually feel pretty good, but the night after it happened I woke up positively whimpering in a very undignified manner. Zane got up and got me some Tyelenol, bless him, but then Sasha needed feeding. I made it to the living room chair to feed him, but then I had to call Zane because I was really about to faint. I didn't, but it was a near thing. All very embarrassing.

I posted the information on my mishap on Facebook. My favorite comment was cousin Jason's, who said that I need to take up biking because breaking one rib at a time is so inefficient. That's true. I really should just get all my bone-breaking done at once and get it over with. Thanks, Jason.

Being a Mommy

AT about 1:30 this morning, Sasha started to cry. Naturally, I staggered out of bed to his crib, where I picked him up. As soon as he was in my arms, he stopped crying and all the tension went out of his little body and he relaxed against my shoulder. It was like, "Oh, Mommy's here. Now I'm taken care of." So tender.

Right now, Sabrina is playing outside. She loves being outside. Yes, last I checked it was 32 degrees. What? That's way warmer than it has been this winter. Mom once said if she didn't know where I was she knew I was probably in my room reading and making crumbs on the sheets. Ah, what is better than good food (graham crackers with peanut butter and chocolate chips) and good literature (Little Women, et. al.)? I'm afraid, though, that when I can't find Sabrina she'll be chasing cows off our property or climbing in the barn or exploring the back edges of our property. Not as easy to find that kind of girl, eh?

Today I love being a mommy.

Cleaning: A Test

A few months ago (when Zane was a little irritated with me and taking it out in a passive-aggressive way) he told me that lo these many years ago (like, one) his mom mentioned that he and I are kind of messy. I can't be offended because a) it's true, and b) Marilyn and I have different cleaning styles. I have developed a test to determine if you are a Marilyn or a Molly.

1. In two hours I can
a) clean my house.
b) clean the bathroom, if I really rush and don't get interrupted.

2. When my child uses my lipstick as a crayon in my bathroom, I'm angry because:
a) that was a really good color and a free sample to boot and I threw it out before I could check the name.
b) I have to clean it all up.

3. If I'm having people come over, I
a)am still cleaning 10 minutes before they come by throwing toys into the kids' rooms, because I figure by the time the guests see the kids' rooms we can blame the mess on current playing.
b) organize cupboards in the kitchen in case someone needs to bake cookies.

4. I'm more likely to see
a) that the carpet has been vacuumed this week -- look! lines on the carpet!
b) dust.

5. Before the cleaning service comes
a) you have a cleaning service? Lucky!
b) you clean.

So, count up your As and Bs. If you have more As, you're like me! Congratulations! You have a messy house > 50% of the time. If you have more Bs, you're like Marilyn! And you have a clean house pretty much all the time. Oh, and she doesn't have cleaning service now, she has Vienna. I'm just assuming what would happen if she did.

RSV Update

On Thursday night Mom called, worried about Sicko. After listening to his breathing over the phone, she ordered me to take him back to the doctor the next day. So, of course, I did. There is an RSV clinic at the hospital designed specifically to keep kids out of the hospital. The only thing they had to do for Sasha, though, was clearing out his mucus. If you're not a parent, you should stop reading right now and go to a happy site with no bodily fluids mentioned.

If you're still reading this, here's what happened: deep suctioning. They took a long catheter and, while I held my precious baby's hands, stuck it down his nose and suctioned out disgusting, oxygen-limiting mucus out of him. After a few minutes of crying and struggling they finally let him go and tested his oxygen. Above 90 is okay, but they like to see about 96. He was 99. Yay for mucus-removing treatments! He's a little wheezy again this morning and I may take him in for a repeat tomorrow, but I think he's getting better. Still, this has been a serious, disgusting adventure.

Sick Boy

I took Sasha to the doctor today because he has been wheezing. And snotty, and coughing. But happy, always happy. After testing his oxygen levels, looking in his ears, suctioning out his nose, and an Advair treatment, it was diagnosed: RSV and a double ear infection. Well, it's just a probably on the RSV, we didn't get the snot tested. Why? Because who cares if it's RSV or another virus that also can't be treated? Not me. So the upshot is: poor baby, and don't drop by unexpectedly unless you want RSV. I kept thinking he was immunized against RSV, but no, that was rotavirus. Anyway, he's on antibiotics for the ear infections, and I've been warned to bring him in again if he turns blue. Did not need to be told that.

Carl Bloch

Mormons all know Carl Bloch's work, even if they don't know they know it. His work is used all over, and is in all sorts of manuals and picture collections. So, I was planning on enjoying the BYU exhibit. I didn't expect the WOW factor.

As you walk in, the first painting you see is the Doubting Thomas. I literally stopped in my tracks. There's something about actually seeing a painting that just isn't communicated in lovely 3x5 prints. It's larger than life, and Bloch did something to make the background receded and the figures really stand out.

Then, just around to the right is my favorite picture of the exhibition: The Daughter of Jarius. The notes next to the painting (which someone was calling a photograph, which is kind of the point--it's not one) said most paintings of this story show Jesus after he has raised the daughter from the dead. This one has the mother sitting next to her dead daughter and Jesus in the door, as yet unseen and unacknowledged. I've noticed many of the really great artists tend to portray the moment before, like Michelangelo's David. He holds his sling, waiting, but has not yet killed Goliath. Whatever it was, this painting kept me coming back several times.

Sasha was a little fussy and a lot heavy, and Sabrina was giggling and running in circles around chairs, set up for quiet contemplation of the pictures. But Aunt Kathleen, who Sabrina dubbed "other grandma," watched the kids for a few minutes at the end, and I wasn't even sorry they were there. Amazing show.

A heritage of high intelligence

A heritage of high intelligence. That's what Sabrina has. That refers to Grandma Maughn, of course, she has that coveted high intelligence. So, joking aside, Sabrina is so smart! In two days she's learned three letters! Yay! she knows S, O, and C. She can spell soc! It's okay that it's spelled wrong, because she's only two. And a half. We were reading Dinosaur ABC tonight, and she would find those letters. She's good at S and O, but C we learned tonight so it's a little harder. Anyway, we saw one dinosaur with a big fin on its back, and Sabrina told me, "It gets warm by the sun." That's right! At least, that's what the book says. I told her that a couple days ago. Oh, and at the Carl Bloch exhibit she looked at a picture of the ar-teest and said "That's Joseph Smith." Well, not Joseph Smith, but how did you know about Joseph Smith? Must be nursery. We talk about Jesus plenty, and Heavenly Father, but we have yet to delve into church history.

And speaking of the Carl Bloch exhibit, it was amazing. It deserves its own post, so I'll just say now: Wow.

Poor Japan

Poor Japan. That was one huge earthquake, and it's made all the more poignant for our family because Sendai, the city nearest the epicenter, was Zane's mission. He says one of his apartments was likely destroyed by the tsunami, because it was only about 100 yards inland. I'm sure it had a great location and all, unless you consider the 33-foot walls of water that come to visit.

Watching the videos of people in the earthquake was really...moving. Ha ha. But seriously, just seeing their faces and the mundane tasks they were doing when all hell broke loose made me really realize how barriers of race, language, and location are nothing to our shared humanity. And I'm sorry if that sounds trite. Okay, I know it sounds trite. It's still true.

Binkie Loss

At one time, I had five of those newborn pacifiers, you know, the ones that are blue/greeen and are round and look kind of funny? Yeah, Sasha really liked them, so I kept good tabs on them. Then I lost one at Zane's office, I think. One was under the crib. One I had. Two I KNEW were in the house. I knew it. But I couldn't find time, and I've cleaned, looked under couches and chairs, everything. Couldn't find 'em.

Yesterday, Sabrina comes into the room with TWO of them! Sadly, one was from under the crib, but the other must have been stashed somewhere in her room, in a box or purse or something. Not in her toys, or books, or bed, or dresser. I have no idea, but now I have three again. These are the things that make me excited these days.

I'm starting teaching again next year. I'll get to be excited about 12-year-olds writing essays again, as well as getting binkie joy. The best of both worlds?

Forgiveness and stuff

In Sunday school last week, we were supposed to be studying Matthew 6 and 7. Good chapters, the second part of the Sermon on the Mount. So, naturally, we spend the first fifteen minutes talking about Matthew 5. Also a good chapter, but was well covered last week. You know, when we were supposed to be studying Matthew 5.

The next fifteen minutes (for those of you counting, that's 30/45ths of the class. And yes, I can reduce that but I don't want to) we talked about forgiveness. Specifically, we talked about how lovely it was that Brandon Davies of BYU who (I've heard) got his girlfriend pregnant was "forgiven" by 22,000 fans at a BYU basketball game and given a round of chanting his name. Now, a show of support is nice and stuff, but let's face it: it's super easy to forgive someone famous/good at stuff/a male for sexual sins because their sins don't actually affect us/we have a double standard. Even the most rabid BYU basketball fan is minimally affected by Brandon being suspended. I wonder if his girlfriend with the big stomach and no wedding ring will be equally as forgiven, or if she will be blamed for "seducing" him (let's not get me started on that one. No, really) or be otherwise shunned for HER part in this. I'm guessing not.

/rant ends

Catch up

Okay, I know it's been a long time since I blogged. Let's just say, I did not do great in the "don't be idle" goal. I don't know, maybe putting quantifiable goals as subgoals is not the best thing for a mother of a two-year-old and an infant. I think that just depressed me. So, onward and upward! I'm honestly not sure what this month's goal is, probably because I got a FAIL on February, but hey, that's why I have monthly goals instead of yearly ones!

Today Dad came up for lunch, i.e. he brought KFC. I mean, I'd cook for him, but he volunteers to bring the good stuff. Who am I to ruin his fun. Sasha was sitting on his knees, and Dad flapped his (Dad's) arms up and down, and then Sasha flapped his (Sasha's) arms up and down. It was hi-larious. Sasha's really getting interactive and fun, not a sandbag anymore. When Dad was leaving we told Sabrina to say goodbye, and she ran to the door. Dad thought she was ushering him out, but she spread all 2 foot 10 or so in front of the door to prevent him from leaving. That's how the grandkids feel about Grandpa Joe.

Happiness

Scene: my lovely, warm bed that I had to leave altogether too many times in the night.
Time: 7:14 am
Down the hall, a door squeaks open. Whimpering is heard. Little footsteps come down the hall. More whimpering.
"Mama, I need juice." Whining. "Mama, geeup." Whining. "I need ceeral." Whining.

That is how my days have been starting lately. With the dreaded door squeak and the cursed whining. I coulnd't take it anymore. So, yesterday we went to timeout with every second whine. And when I say "we" I mean "Sabrina." I usually gave her one chance to say it again in non-whiny voice, and guess what? She was so happy all day long. It's like, when she's forced to sound happy, she is happy. That's a lesson I need to take to heart.

Four months old, size 6-9 months

Sasha's four month appointment was yesterday. The doctor confirmed what I already know: I have a perfect giant. 91st percentile in height, 84th in weight. In other words, skinny! Okay, not skinny. Enormous. But not enormously fat. Big. Very, very big. 17 pounds. Only five less than his sister. They are now (as soon as his size 2 diapers run out) in the same size diaper.

Oh, and he cries for 10 seconds with shots, and doesn't get sick that day. Basically, except from an I-have-to-carry-him standpoint, he's perfect. Oh wait -- he also wakes up once in the night usually. So, basically perfect. He has the most amazing smiles, giggles and laughs, loves to have his diaper changed, coos at his mommy, and waves his arms around frantically. He plays with paper, pulls my hair vigorously, takes his binkie out of his mouth, and pets the cat. I love my boy.

February Goal

My goal for February is "cease to be idle." I hate this goal. Anyway, here are my subgoals. Or, as teachers say, here is what "cease to be idle" looks like:

1. Spend two hours a day doing work around the house,at least one of which is cleaning.
2. While watching TV (Gilmore Girls is on at 3!) do something productive, i.e. laundry, exercise, or blogging.
3. Regrout the tile in my hallway from the garage.
4. Put numbers on my house. I bought them last month, but they need to be put up.

Oh yeah, and want to know how January's goals went? I cleaned out the garage and Zane is parking there, which is good because it's Canada weather lately. I cleaned out the car and it's still clean, although I probably need to do a vacuum/glass cleaning/make sure every last thing is out job every month or so. I decided not to sell things on KSL because we put the rug downstairs with the computer and are getting Marilyn and Zane's old couch so we need the slipcover, and those were the main things I wanted to sell. I got a FAIL on cleaning the downstairs, partly because we didn't get all the shelves I needed for Christmas so I felt like I didn't have anywhere to put stuff. I'll try to get more shelves over the next few months and take care of that. So, not bad overall. I also got caulk and Zane caulked between the tub and floor in the bathroom. I give myself a B-. On to February!

Water Additives

I've been thinking about what they put in our water, and not because I believe fluoride in the water is a communist plot to control our minds. No, it's because a) Sabrina takes fluoride now because the denizens of Weber County DO believe fluoride in the water is a communist plot to control our minds, and b) I"m convinced Weber County puts an additive in the water. Chemo. I'm pretty sure. It's to keep us from getting cancer, I know, but it also makes my hair fall out. I'm sure it has nothing to do with being postpartum. My vacuum: full of hair. My laundry: ditto. My shower. My sink. My bathroom. Hair. Gross.

Singing

Both my kids sing. Sasha's singing is more aaaAAAAA. aAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEaaaaa. These are also the noises Sabrina makes when asks "What do babies say?" Sabrina is a little more conventional. The other day she was singing, "and HEEEE has sent me here. Santa Claus is coming to town." I guess God=Christmas=Santa. Makes sense, I think.

Sabrina is also taking a speech leap. She can tell whole stories. A couple of days ago she called "Team Umizoomi" on her "phone," which was actually a folded piece of cardboard. She explained to the Team that the baby's binki was missing, and to get in the Umicar to come find it. Umizoomi, if you didn't know, is a kid's show that's all about numbers, and usually the Umis are called to find or get something. In the Sabrina epidsode, it was Sasha's binki. First it was sounds, then words, then sentences, now whole paragraphs. She'll crank out a thesis sentence any day now.

Ribs

It's official. My rib is broken. At least, it's as official as it can get without x-rays and with the only doctor to look at it an oncologist who is my mom, who said after feeling it, "yup, it looks broken." After all, Mom is a doctor of internal medicine, and what is more internal than a rib? If your ribs are external, you don't need a doctor to tell you they're broken. It happened while playing indoor soccer, and the guy I collided with was at least twice my size, and the collision was my fault. I. Am. Awesome.

New Year's Resolutions

It's been awhile. I really didn't know having two kids could make me such a lazy bum! Also, I think I cracked a rib at indoor soccer on Tuesday, but that's just a recent reason to lie on the couch and read my new Kindle. Which is awesome. Am I stream-of-consciousnessing?

So, here's my new year's resolution: to create the House of God described in the D&C. I'm taking one part of the scripture each month and focusing on that. This month I'm working on creating a house of order. So, here are my weekly goals. 1. Clean out the garage (at least to the point Zane can park in it). Percent complete: 75. 2. Clean out car and keep it clean. Percent complete: 75. 3. Clean up downstairs. Percent complete: 25 (although I may need to buy more shelves to really get this goal done). 4. Sell nice but surplus stuff on KSL. Percent complete: 0.

I also have monthly goals to improve the house. This month is to buy caulk and seal the space between the tub and bathroom floor. Because not having it done means rain in the basement if any gets sloshed over the side of the tub. Did I mention I have a 2-year-old? So yeah, such things are disturbingly common.

There you have it! I will practically have a temple by the end of the year, I'm sure.