one down, one to go

It is a good thing three year olds are so easy to please.  At about 5:30pm yesterday I felt a sense that I had failed to provide the birthday for Eli that I had wanted.  Richard was quick to point out that Eli didn't notice anything lacking.  Isn't that often the way it goes?  We don't live up to our own elaborate expectations but our children never know the difference.   Or maybe they even appreciate the difference.  The simplicity.  Let this be a lesson to me.

**Thank you to a thoughtful nursery teacher for the balloons. 

three years

I have never blogged as if I were speaking to my child.  I see that on blogs quite a bit, but I didn't think it was my style.  But for the sake of variety I'll give it a go. 

To ELI:  On your third birthday

Your dad and I noticed the other day how sensitive your senses are to the world around you. 

Your big brown eyes are so sensitive to the bright sun.  You wear your sunglasses all the time.

Your often cover your little ears to protect them from loud noises, and you especially hate when the wind blows and makes your eardrum quiver. 

Your adorable little nose does not spare you from the farm-ish smells of Kuna and you don't spare us from your complaints about it.

Your small hands love the sensation of bubbly soap and warm water and you would wash and wash them forever.

Your refined palate has zero tolerance for tastes and textures it does not approve of, resulting in your stubborn refusal to swallow these foods until they drip out of your mouth or you spit them into a napkin. 

These are the things we remember when we look back on this last year of your life.  We love these things about you.

We love you Eli Pie.

a photo story about yet another Eli injury

Eli has a nickname with my father in-law.  Horrible Headwound Harry.  Today while racing with Cameron there was a collision and this was the resulting damage. 

In retaliation against Cameron for his role in the tragic events, Eli refused to let him see the wound.  This must have been very satisfying because it drove Cameron absolutely crazy.  Although he hates the sight of blood, he still posesses that bit of human nature that compels us to look.  After about 45 minutes of secrecy it was getting difficult to accomplish small tasks with only his left hand available. 

So for a brief moment he exposed the gash for Cameron's curious gaze. 

But it didn't last long. Soon he was back to concealing the injury. 

 I love this picture though because it demonstrates something about Eli's stubborn nature.  Very often he persists in doing something for so long he forgets where he began.  Nearly an hour after the incident he continues to put forth the effort to stand his ground but makes himself into a joke by neglecting his original purpose completely. 

**It is worth noting that I am tremendously grateful that this injury wasn't nearly as traumatic as it could have been. 

the great thumb sucking debate

Richard and I had given in to the idea of Miriam being a thumb sucker. She seemed to have her heart set on it and for days it appeared as though she had mastered the skill. I had some reservations but it is so darling  and convenient I gave them little thought. At bedtime and naptime I would place in her in crib, wide awake, and in a matter of seconds, with thumb in mouth, she would be off to dreamland.

Ours was a happy (and well rested) home.

Then the dynamic changed in a strangely coincidental way.

I am dental hygienist and therefore somewhat familiar with all things oral, including the repercussions of thumb sucking. At work on Monday I made the obvious mistake of bringing up her habit in the company of my dentist-boss. He gave me a disapproving (but understanding since he has children too) glance. I asked him straight out if it was his professional opinion that I should stop my precious baby from sucking her thumb.

“Break the habit now.” He said without hesitation.

A coworker must have seen my well-rested being droop in disappointment and she responded.

“Don’t worry Jo, that is what orthodontists are for!”

For hours I thought of the cruel methods by which I could prevent Miriam from perpetuating this bad habit. Making her wear those little baby mittens or putting that icky stuff on her tiny thumb. It all seemed too awful. By the end of the day I had determined I could not rob her of that peaceful place she resides with thumb in mouth. Even at the risk of orthodontics. Statistically speaking she is likely to need them anyway.

Then on Tuesday Miriam quit sucking her thumb. It was as though she had forgotten how. All of the sudden she relied once again on the binky. That meant every nap and bedtime involved frequent intermissions where I had to return the binky to her wanting lips. So much for well-rested. Midnight trips to her bedroom to replace the binky were disrupting my once blissful sleep cycles.

I know I should have been grateful that she voluntarily gave up.  The goal was accomplished without my having to execute any of the cruel antics I had been  imagining.  Nevertheless, I was crestfallen.

This morning I put her down for a nap and knowing that she would cry as soon as her binky fell out I retreated to the shower where I could not hear her sadness. When I returned to check on her, I found her fast asleep with thumb in mouth.

I can not say for sure that she will return to her old ways. Perhaps it is another phase. Secretely (or I guess it is no secret anymore) I am hoping she resumes her self-soothing.  What I can’t decide is if my desire for her to suck her thumb is entirely selfish, or only just 50% selfish. 

I guess I’ll just go with it. See what happens. And be sure to keep it a secret from my dentist-boss.

birthday parties

Several years ago Richard and I decided (and by that I mean I decided and Richard shrugged his shoulders as if to say "Sure. Whatever.") that we would allow our children to have an organized birthday party (where they could invite friends and I would entertain them) twice, at ages five and eight. 

That sentence was a grammatical nightmare. But I'm too lazy to go back and fix it.  I wouldn't know how.

Next week Cameron turns five.  He has requested a dinosaur birthday party.  I have one week so today I consulted my best source, the web.  Much... too... overwhelming.  I had no idea the extent to which some people go for birthday parties.  I have neither the time, ambition or the funds to expend such energies.  Internet, you failed me.

So I think we'll just stick with musical chairs, dropping clothespins in glass jars and maybe pin the tail on the T-Rex.  I might actually buy a dinosaur cake because the idea of trying to make one causes me to hyperventilate.

One more thing.  I decided that I would request that the preschool age guests not bring gifts.  Is that tacky/offensive/totally bizarre?  I just can't stand the idea of more toys around this place.  And I feel bad asking other children's parents to spend money on him in these "tough economic times". I told Cameron that his friends wouldn't be bringing gifts and, well, if you know anything about Cameron you know what happened. 

Tears. Whining.  Banging of limbs against nearby objects. 

It was all enough to indicate that gifts are the last thing the child needs. But never fear mothers and fathers whose hearts are breaking for the poor child.  He will get gifts.

There is a swingset being secretly stored in a friends backyard with his name (and Eli's) all over it.

a [sensitive] kindred spirit

In the book The Secret Life of Bees there is a character named May who I can identify with in small part.  She had a problem of taking ownership of others problems.  Any time May heard about tragic events in the world she would launch into deep dispair. 

May's coping mechanism was a stone wall she built.  She would write down the stories she heard on slips of paper, deposit them into the stone wall, and weep until she could let go of her grief.

Recently I have heard sad stories from the lives of people around me. I have felt anguish and sorrow on their behalf.  I told Richard I needed a wall like May's.  A place to let go of all the problems I observe that I am not capable of solving. 

But he pointed out that it didn't really work for May. 

I have quoted it before and will likely quote it again, because the Serenity Prayer is my default wisdom for times like this.

"GOD, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference...

Taking, as He did, this...world as it is, not as I would have it..."

Have you completed your census questionnaire?

Person 4 made an art project out of the return envelope on our census questionnaire.  It ought to give the government some insight into the occupants residing at this address.  When Person 1 showed it to me I responded:

"They will understand once they open it and review the enclosed data."

**I think instead of coming up with clever names or using just the first letter of the names of my family members for privacy, I'll just refer to them as Persons 1-5, after the manner of the census commission, in ascending age order.  Much simpler.

some people are nice, some are not

I have become so accustomed to people thinking I look too young to have children that I was speechless the other night at the grocery store when a man assumed otherwise.  As I made my way toward the eggs and milk he said to me "This must be a nice break for you!"  Since I had none of my three children with me I was utterly bewildered as to how he would know that.  Maybe it was the items in my cart, but most likely it was the leisurely pace at which I perused the aisles truly relishing my time alone. I responded "It is!" with a smile and he gave me a pleasant smile in return before continuing down the aisle. 

He was so nice.

Contrast that with my experience at Hobby Lobby yesterday when I had all three children with me.  Ironically I was feeling quite good about how well the kids had behaved in the store and we were just about to pay. Eli got distracted looking at something and fell behind while I went with Cameron to supervise his treat selection.  A woman approached Eli and asked, in a voice resembling the wicked witch of the west "Little boy, where is your mother?!"  I stepped into view and calmly stated "I am right here. Come on Eli." He walked toward me and showed me the item in hand. I asked "Where did you get that?" (So we could return it to its proper place.)  And the cranky woman with cold eyes of steel snapped at me "What would you care!" She then stomped away and out of the store leaving me, once again, utterly bewildered.

She was not so nice. 

I hope I am the kind of person who can bewilder people with kindness rather than cruel judgement. 

**Side note:  If you remember my post about the late twenties you might find it humorous to know that when I made another delivery to D.I. yesterday the guys on the collection dock were listening to none other than Beyonce.  And let me put it this way, it wasn't the "sharp looking young man" that had been there before.

totally scattered, probably not worth reading

I'm feeling a little insecure that I can't blog today about some cute things I did for St. Patrick's day for my family.  Something festive like green pancakes or corned beef and cabbage for dinner.  I'm just not that kind of a mom yet.  Someday. 
So all I have are three thoughts that had nestled into my head as it hit the pillow last night.

1.  I feel healthy when I eat bread with sunflower seeds in it.  Something about that nutty crunch convinces me I am doing my body a favor.  I have been looking for a quality wheat bread for awhile and I think I found it in the bakery at our local Paul's.   It is cooked right there in the store and BONUS: it has sunflower seeds.

2.  I generally use pens for all my writing needs.  Which, it just so happens in this technological world are very few.  In fact, I found a few weeks ago as I finally got around to writing thank you gifts for Miriam's baby shower, that my writing skills have greatly declined and I made many mistakes.  Nevertheless, last night I grabbed a mechanical pencil to scratch out my grocery list and I was delightfully reminded of my love for mechanical pencils.  Something about the way the lead makes a nice little angle causes my handwriting to drastically improve.  Note to the Easter Bunny: How about some mechanical pencils in my basket this year?

3.  I love the smell of cilantro.  At the grocery store last night the herbs weren't labeled so I took my best guess as to which was cilantro.  One giant olfactory inhale and my estimate was confirmed.  I may have stuck my nose in that plastic bag several more times before it came to rest in the refrigerator.  Mmm cilantro.

all love olives

Some things seem to be just a part of a child's nature.  Olives on fingers.  Doesn't need to be taught.  Earth's magnetic force just draws them there. 

the big race

I am avoiding organized sports for my children as long as possible.  I am not ready to make the time committment.  But since I want Cameron to be involved in "extra-curricular" activities of some sort I thought for awhile about what he might enjoy that wouldn't involve weeknight practices and Saturday games. 

Cameron loves to run.  Perhaps I am one of those delusional parents who has convinced myself that my child loves something just because I want him to.  Nevertheless I am convinced he loves to run.  When I was pregnant I would go walking with a friend and would allow Cameron the choice between riding his bike or jogging along (to keep up with us). He most often chose the jogging.  When he was three we went on what was supposed to be a three mile hike that, due to poor map reading on my part, was closer to five miles.  He had rests but walked or ran most of the way. 

So a few weeks ago I signed him up for a children's one mile fun run.  I told him about his "race" and each day he asked how many days until the race.  We did a few practice runs here and there but nothing close to a mile.  I warned him it would be long but he was up for it.   Our only hesitation was that he had his heart set on winning.  We worried that when he saw all the older kids take off ahead of him he would give up.

Saturday was the race and we woke up to snow on the ground and gusty winds.  His excitement did not wane.   Neither Richard or I were dressed to run with him (I didn't know that was an option) so he ran with some friends from our ward.   As soon as the gunshot sounded he took off with a look of pure determination.  He wasn't the youngest there, but pretty close to the smallest. 

Our friend told us he ran the entire time.  When the finish line was in view he broke into a sprint.  It was so great.   I told Cameron that after the race we could go out for a treat and he requested a milkshake. So my parents came along and bought him a giant milkshake. (Others of us were more in the mood for something a little warmer...)

When his Uncle James heard about the race he promised to come with a big sign for Cameron.

I know that not winning was good for him.  (This kid has no shortage of self-confidence.)  Before the race Richard had tried to explain that since this was his first race and the big kids would probably be faster it would be good practice for more races down the road when he would be bigger and faster.  On the way home he said to Richard

 "That was a good practice race Dad.  When is the next race?"

am I overreacting?

One of life’s complexities is knowing the appropriate level of reaction to any given event in my life. I find that I often overreact to events in my life. But I can also think of examples where my reaction is not sufficient enough to initiate change or remorse.

Few things are more frustrating than when someone calls you out on your reaction. When they accuse you of being too upset or not caring enough.

But how does one decide what is the proper response? We are told that we have control of our responses, but is that the same as having control of our feelings? Can we really stop sadness/frustration/guilt from coming? Do we want to?

There were three difficult events in my day today. All three were totally unrelated and probably did not justify the same reaction. Yet, after each I found myself equally upset. I said good-bye to a good friend. I flaked out and neglected to provide something important for someone I had stewardship over. I acted selfishly as a mother and in doing so unintentionally caused my baby daughter great discomfort.

By the end of the day I was emotionally spent, and sufficiently humbled. I found myself wondering if perhaps I was feeling a bit too sorry for myself.

But now, with some objectivity I can look back on all three events and I can clearly see the hand of the Lord in my life. I also see the tender mercies I am so undeserving of, but so appreciative of.

And how can I not smile when I look at a face such as this?

don't know what you have, 'til it's gone

My friend is moving 3,000 miles away today. 

I am realizing that I took it for granted, having her so close.  I should have called her more.  I should have filled up my canteen with Tisha-love before this long desert ahead of me.  If we were still in high school or college we would make outrageous promises of how often we would get together.  But the realities of adulthood make me aware that although I am confidant I will see her again, it won't be as often as my heart desires. 

I am really sad. 

Love you Tisha.

Eli's quirk: part II

What do you think Mom? Do these shoes go well with my birthday suit?

Talk about putting the cart before the horse.  You might notice he made an effort to relace his own shoes.

an Eli quirk

When Eli unties his shoes to take them off, he really does the job.  You can imagine my frustration when I am frantically preparing the three children to leave the house, because I am usually running late, and I find that I have to relace his shoes in addition to tying them. 

Another reason to love Crocs or to stick with velcro.  Also another parenting lesson I am apparently still learning. It always takes longer than you think it will to get out that door.

craft binge

At the outset of 2010 I determined to do another year of homemade gifts. That is, I determined to last the whole year this time.  My apologies to all my family members whose birthdays fell after, oh about April.  I sort of burned out a little too early.  Part of my burn-out last year was the difficulty of coming up with ideas for certain family members.  So to prevent a relapse I have come to a compromise.  Where possible, I will make the gift.  But I would rather not have it be homemade than just ignore the birthday altogether.  I've tried to compensate for lack of homecraft by being more thoughtful in my gift giving.  The gift I'm most excited about was a pair of tickets for my brother-in-law to see the play "Jack in the Beanstalk" with his little boy in their hometown of Las Vegas.  The tickets were inexpensive (sorry Will!) but required a little time on the www to find.

**As a side note. For my birthday a friend of mine put together a playlist on iTunes of her favorite songs, paid for them and then gave me the download code.   It was so thoughtful.  My sister did a similar thing and made me a cd of her favorite running songs to get me motivated.  My mom used her talents to sew new cushions for our rocking chair, pictures of that coming soon.

Anyway, I did make this gift for my sister.  It is a journal of sorts.  It's a box with labeled months. Behind each month is a number of lined slips of paper for recording daily activities, funny moments, short little thoughts, children's milestones, etc.  I liked the idea so much I started recording my own little entries.  Now I just need to make myself a box. 

           

These were more of those crystal light/wylers containers that seem to be multiplying around here.  I just mod-podged wrapping paper on them for some V-day treats.

This was not my idea.  I learned how to make these here.  I made a few for my sister-in-law's birthday. (Ignore the tacky yellow t-shirt. I was too lazy to change for my photo.)

Cheers to thoughtful/homemade gift giving!

active ingredients

Eli has what my family describes and "active ingredients".  He expresses all of his emotions in extremes.  When he is happy he is delightful.  He makes us laugh and I just can't hug him enough, he is so adorable.  When he is angry he is like a firecracker.  It is best to keep your distance until he starts to fizzle out.  When he is tired and grumpy he'll cover his head with a blanket, sending the message "Leave me alone".   The other morning he woke up too early and had a meltdown in the living room.  He leaned over on the couch, covered his head and promptly fell asleep. 

It reminded me of when he was little and he used to do this.  He would crawl to his blanket and just bury his head in it as best he could. 

Coincidentally this picture was taken almost exactly two years ago. 

three months

Yes Mira, I'm sad that you are getting older too. 

I would say that she is growing, but mostly she is just getting older, and slightly bigger. And thankfully, gaining a little more muscle control.

Richard and I can't believe how committed she is to sucking her thumb.  At first it was cute, but now we are a little nervous.  It is her one skill.  Spit out the pinky (an Eli term for the pacifier) and shove in the thumb.  Cameron went through a phase like that but she seems a little more intent than he was on creating a naughty habit. 

so long February!

El Nino has exhibited itself in Boise as a mild winter with more rain than snow.  For weeks the boys have been asking me when they could build a snowman.  In January I remained optimistic that it would snow again and reassured them the opportunity would come.  But last week as February was winding down I had lost hope.  When a pathetic snowfall covered the ground in just enough white stuff for the boys to notice I couldn't deny them the opportunity I had promised.  We bundled up and headed out.  Unfortunately it didn't take long to realize this snow was not snow, but rather slush and a snowman was out of the question.  But they still had a good time.  I only lasted about as long as it took to take these pictures and then my feet were soaked and I was ready to go inside.