Sasha

I figure it's only fair to do an All About Sasha post.

Sasha doesn't currently have any new stuff going on that's outside of himself. He is, however, having a lot of internal changes. First, he's really mastering the three-word sentence, and even four worders are coming out of him. Take last night. 3:47 AM. "Mom! Mom! Mooooommmm!" I stumble into his room. Then he says, "Mom! Binkie! I found it!" and rolled over and went back to sleep. Great. Glad I got up for that newsflash. Still, despite my drowsy state, I was a little prideful about his advanced sentence construction.

Sasha is also having a much easier time lately with Raiden's existence. It was hard for a while, although he was always completely sweet and loving to him. He's down to about two tantrums a day, a vast improvement. Usually he just needs food or sleep.

Speaking of Raiden, Sasha asks every day to "hold him." Then he smiles at his little brother as his head lies on Sasha's lap. He will also get right in Raiden's face and says, "Hi, Rai-den." So pre-cious.

Sasha also loves nursery. He runs right in (he never walks anywhere, it's always full speed ahead) to play with the kitchen or cars. He's a friendly little guy who isn't afraid of much. Plus, he's so cute! Check it:

(Okay, it's an older picture, but dang, he's CUTE!)

All About Sabrina

There are just some kids who just shouldn't play soccer. You know who they are, they're the flower pickers, the kids who are so busy with dandelions that they forget there's a ball on the field. Zane and I call them the "flower pickers." Yes, that is a creative name. Anyway, Zane and Sabrina were practicing soccer in the backyard a couple days ago, and as she was running to the ball, she pointed to the ground and said matter-of-factly, "I need to pick that flower." I was laughing so hard I was crying.

Sabrina started preschool today. I have no idea how it went. She happily went right in and downstairs with the other kids before I could even say goodbye. When I got there to pick her up, she just about cried (We don't need to cry, Sabrina) because I was 10 minutes early and they were playing I Spy. I could wait, I told her, and the tears went away. At the same time, she refused to put on her seatbelt, fought with Sasha the second we got home, and threw a tantrum when I pulled her out of her room so Sasha could take a nap. So, she has fun but is also stressed with the change to being a big girl? I think so. She also woke up in the night, which I attribute to the same thing.

Next week Sabrina also starts preschool tumbling. She already likes to pose in the front room (Mom! Look at me!), and I made her a ribbon stick like in the rhythmic gymnastics in the Olympics, and she's getting really good (Mom! Watch my dance!) at swirling it around without stepping on it. Basically, she's getting to be her own little person, and it's scaring us both!

A week without

For the past week, Zane, Sabrina, and Spencer have been in Lake Powell. Not wanting to be home alone, I stayed at my parents' house from Saturday until Wednesday. Here are some random thoughts.

Sasha sleeps better in his own bed. Two nights he insisted on sleeping with me instead of on a bed of his own. Both nights he fell out of the bed onto strategically placed pillows, where he remained for the rest of the night. Sadly, he woke up early due to his position on the floor.

My parents have easy-open doors. Sasha learned to open them. Sasha can now open doors here. Goodbye, nap. (sob)

Raiden sleeps through the night wherever. Just give him his hands to suck on, and he's good. Love that boy.

Although I like having my own house and all, there are benefits to living with your mom and dad. For example, home-cooked meals I didn't have to cook, free entry on a grandparent season pass to the zoo, a one-to-one ratio of kids to grownups at the zoo (no Sabrina + no Zane + one grandpa = yay!), and more adoring adults to love my kids.

I have sort of felt like I was on vacation as well, what with Sabrina gone and Zane on vacation. I really need to establish my own identity, or something. But I have not wanted to clean or do other work-like stuff since I've been home. I have, though. Props to me. (BTW, "props" is short for "proper respect." Yeah, I didn't know that either.)

With luck, Zane will be home in a few hours. The house is clean, Spencer's bed is set up (for the THIRD TIME. I TOLD YOU SO), and I'm all ready to do laundry. I miss my family.

Olympics

Thought this post was going to be about the London 2012 Olympics, right? Well, they have been very exciting, and I don't care what people say, I'm all about Oosa pride. I even taught Sasha to say "Go oosa." I tried "Go USA" at first, but he didn't really get it. He's only to 3-word sentences now, so it was too much. And I've been following Gabby Douglas a lot too. She trains at the same gym Karen, my sister-in-law, occasionally works at, so I feel all connected with her. And also, every time we pull away from China in overall medal count, I get all excited. I mean, do you know how many national resources they put into beating us? And yet, we totally hang with them. Except in diving, where they are freaking amazing. And table tennis and badminton. But whatever. We win at volleyball.

Regardless of the previous paragraph, I've been depressed about our Froerer Family Olympics. These are an annual tradition at the Froerer Family Compound. Since I've had three kids in 3 years and 10 months, I've been pregnant for two of these Olympics, and then this one, 8 weeks postpartum. When I was pregnant, I was okay with being the slowest runner, the most awkward jumper, whatever. I also was okay with winning the soccer kick and (most importantly) the dessert competition.

This year, I was feeling good enough, recovered enough, to not be okay with any of these things. I didn't even take part in the situp competition, and a good thing too. That night, I tried do do some. Eight. And that was with severe cheating. My abs didn't burn and ache, they just DIDN'T EXIST. They weren't there. "But Molly," one might say, "you had just had your abs stretched out and CUT IN HALF. It's okay." Yeah. But I'm not that girl. I'm not the girl who can't do nine situps. I reject that girl.

In that spirit, I've been doing situps every day. I'm up to 35! More than my age (barely). I've also started exercising every day on our former clothes rack, the exercise machine. I'm still plateauing with my weight, but whatever. I'm getting sweaty almost every day, and soon the weight will come off. You hear me, weight? You're coming off! And next year? I'm totally kicking everybody's butt in situps. Even Karen. (fingers crossed)

Candy's Wedding

So, Candy got married to Ben on Saturday with the reception the night before. A good way to do it, I think. Then you're not so tired for the wedding night!

The reception was really nice. But that girl does not mess around with her wedding colors! (Wedding colors always make me think of Steel Magnolias: "My colahs ah blush and bashful." "Yoah colahs ah pink and pink.") Her colors were pink, teal, and purple. There was a candy table with candy of those colors, streamers and ribbons in those colors, and a purple chocolate fountain. Ben is a good sport.

The wedding was at the Bountiful temple. With Salt Lake closed for 7 (seven!) weeks and Ogden being remodeled, there were approximately 64,000 weddings at Bountiful. Still, it was very nice. I found out Ben's full name is Benjamin Joseph Alexander Neals (sp?) Nicholls. Whoa. Also, MY brother's name is Benjamin Joseph, and my son's name technically is Alexander. Double whoa.

Ben was very sweet at the ceremony, and sadly most of us are sympathetic criers. Good thing I had waterproof mascara. However, I was a little bugged by the sealer. He gave a talk at the beginning, and that's just what it was. It was totally a memorized, rote speech. Not really what you want at a wedding. Well, not really what I want. Fortunately, Uncle Don sealed me and Zane, so I got personal, loving advice. "Candace and Benjamin" didn't, so much. Also, there was so much talk about children! What if they have trouble getting pregnant? Or want to wait a few years? And (not to complain too much), the sealer was very traditionalist, talking about the joy that Ben will have bringing forth his lovely wife in the resurrection, just like he (the sealer) will do for his wife and sons. But not his daughters. THEY will be resurrected by their husbands. It all felt very "women are property-ish" to me.

The wedding dinner, however, was nothing less than stellar. The tables were all set up as African animals, as Ben is from Zimbabwe. Or "Zimb." So, there was the baboon table, giraffe table, zebra table, and so on. We all got a little zebra or giraffe key chain, handmade from wire and beads. The food was great, the company was great, and the speeches made everyone cry. What more could we ask for? Just that Karen did not have to leave right after it.

Congratulations Candy and Ben! Welcome to the family, BJANN.

Happy Birthday Baby Girl

Four years ago today, Sabrina came into the world. For the previous nine months, I had controlled what went into her, what she heard, what she felt. I've heard children have a hard time differentiating themselves from their parents until they're about 2, but it was the other way with me. I could not tell a difference between us. When she had a milk sensitivity, I was confused. We love milk!

Now, I know we're different people. (For one thing, I was never that snotty at 4, I'm sure.) But that doesn't mean I truly feel separate from her. Someone tells her they won't play with her? My heart breaks in two. She cries because Daddy is making her eat her noodles? I want to hold her and tell her she only has to eat one half of a noodle. She is afraid of the water? Just let me hold you. Don't be scared. I know I can't give into these impulses, but I feel her pain like mine.

Of course, there's the other side, too. She goes down the water slide? My heart bursts with pride. Her squealing delight at successfully completing Fruit Ninja on the Xbox Kinect makes me laugh out loud. "Mom, I DID it!" when she sounds out mmmmm and sssss is so unbelievably joyful.

I don't want to be the mom that makes her children think it's their job to make her happy. It's not. It's my job to be happy. But dang, girl. You make it easy.

Happy birthday baby girl. I'm so glad you're my daughter.

Family Reunion

A few weeks ago, we went to a Sargent family reunion in Washington. (We were near Forks, but we didn't see any vampires. Probably because it was miracle weather with sunny skies every day. Not common, I understand.) It was great in almost every way.

It was great because the setting was amazing, the beach was fun, and the food was great. It was fun to have Mom and Dad there to take the older kids, especially. With a newborn, it was nice to have some other grownups delighted to take my kids. Who am I kidding? It's ALWAYS nice to have grandma and grandpa around to spoil my kids! I also loved the airshow Uncle Wayne did, seeing Amanda in her helicopter, and watching the little kids.

It was also really great to see all my family that I haven't seen in years. Here's the problem: I wanted to hear more about Uncle Jerry's new business, Aunt Gay and Uncle Peter's new stores, my cousin's new jobs and kids and houses, and sit and visit with all the aunties (and Uncle Dale, honorary auntie). Sadly, I had kids with unreasonable demands, like wanting dinner. It meant I just didn't get to have the same reunion as my childhood: playing on Grandpa's hay, making tiny dollhouses, doing talent shows, making capes (i.e. having a cape made for me), and so on. Those were the days, my friend.