Bucket-head Boston and Freedom Friday

On Thursday we kidnapped the kids out of their beds early and drove down to Provo for the Freedom Festival Hot Air Balloon launch at 6:30 AM. It was a pretty cool family adventure, plus, even with breakfast at McDonald's afterwards, Mark was still able to get in a full day's work. It was fun to feel the sun come up over the mountains. Leslie wasn't sure what to think about getting dragged out of bed (she stole Cooper's blankie and was trying to go back there I guess) but she still liked it.
You can see in this last picture Boston being off in lala land. We spotted him from the dining room and he was still doing this by the time we were out there with our camera. You can see the lack of briskly growing pumpkin plants around the sandbox. We had a little problem with some short guerrilla pulling out our sprinklers and using them as automatic weapons. So it just floods. Mark tried to fix it this weekend...we'll see how successful he was since he prefers chewing off his own foot to working with the sprinklers.
Potty training is going very well. Nuff said on that blankety blank subject.
The fourth of July was fun. We went to Mark's brother's house for a barbecue and the kids had a blast with their cousins, as usual. Then we came home to host our own neighborhood barbecue that evening. Lots of food, lots of kids, and only one bee sting. Oh, on the way home from Paul's house Boston blurted to us out of the blue, "It's Freedom Friday!" I was glad he picked that up because he kept thinking it was his birthday, what with the chocolate cake and the party and all.

The Big Parade

Here are some pictures of Leslie in her Veruca Salt costume, marching in the Lehi RoundUp Days Parade in our ward's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory float. Our float won best costumes award, so that was pretty cool. Leslie looked great but I think the Oompa Loompas won the judges over. She had a blast. Here's a shot of our homemade tent I mentioned before, and also a picture of Boston with the strawberries he helped pick last night. Our neighbor has a huge patch and had been gone for two weeks, so it was bursting. She called us to come pick as much as we wanted. The kids loved it and didn't even realize they could snack on them. We got a gallon ice cream bucket full and one of those pink hospital tubs they give you. The strawberries are really tiny and cute, like in old Victorian paintings. I made Strawberry Napoleons today. Tomorrow, maybe a pie with my rhubarb. Not much else is going on right now. I'm gritting my teeth going through the second worst part of parenthood with Boston right now. Potty training. (The worst part is the newborn sleep deprivation thing where you think you are going to die.) He has been so stubborn and belligerent about the whole thing. He yells and screams when I suggest a skip to the loo. I've pondered several times about why we as a society have to be so nicey nicey when we potty train. We are allowed to be strict with our kids with other things, but I somehow know I'm not allowed to spank him if he goes and hides in the toy room to do the job instead of where he should. We've tried everything, including bribery to the point of new toy cars for frequency and a chocolate Lindt truffle for a number 2. (You're starting to sense my desperation...) But one day this week he woke up and announced that he had to go, so I decided to try again in earnest. As my sister in law suggested, we got a horribly embarrassing and cringe-worthy Elmo video from library for him to watch, and the next day he agreed to wear underwear "like Elmo does". We quit diapers cold turkey. I realize that this method involves much more training of the parent than the child (you have to remember to take them if they aren't inclined to take themselves) but I had to start somewhere. The first day was flawless, without much argument from Boss. We even went to the movies with the kids. My spirits were soaring. The second day I remembered the whole one step forward, two steps back thing. I ask you, what child, except one who you are trying to potty train, has 4 poop jobs in one day?!? I only caught half of them. And now we are out of clean underwear, it's Sunday so I'm not going to the store or washing a load of bleach-soaked whites. So much for cold turkey. Wet turkey, maybe. We'll get back to the grindstone tomorrow. Wish me luck.

A Teenager All Over Again

I'd like to present to all of you some scientific observations I've made these last couple years. I am not very qualified to make a formal study, but I am married to a man who graduated with a BS in Sociology (shhh. It's our little secret...) before he went on to get an MBA. And he speaks French, therefore, has plenty of BS to go around. So here is my informal contribution to the academic world. I am calling my theory the Teenager Echo Effect. I always wondered at the strange behavior of my parents when I was a teen, as did my friends. Now as a parent of small children, some of their motivations are surfacing. Hypothesis: It's all about REVENGE. They want you teens to feel exactly as they felt while they were trying to parent you as small children. Whether they realize it or not, your frustrated, angst-filled being is an echo of their frustration with you, years before. You don't believe me? My observations are actually quite compelling.
*My experiences as a teen were not always typical.
**The typical teen noted does not always refer to my personal experiences, either.
***These are only lightly taken observations, leaving out much of the positive differences. I'm much happier as an adult, really.

The Teenager Echo Effect

You've all heard that having children makes you feel young again. Personally, my kids make me feel like a teenager. That's right. Here's why, in no particular order:
1. They never let me do anything.
2. They throw a fit if I'm not home by bedtime, and it's the same thing for all my friends.
3. I speak a different language than grownups. The original teenage years used strange words like "rad", "the bomb", "my bad" and "total hottie". Now in my echo teenage years, there's a lot of, "Did yo brudder bang you on yo chinny chin chin?" And "the bomb" refers to something much nastier.
4. I have to drive a nerdy car. Then, an old beige station wagon (ha ha Michelle!). Now, an old silver minivan. With a broken taillight. (We leave it that way so I can pick it out from all the other Honda Odysseys in the WalMart parking lot...)
5. Cute boys are crawling all over me. (Wait a second, this didn't ever actually happen the first time around. Scratch that one. But hey, they still talk like cavemen and burp a lot.)
6. They wake me up way before I'm ready. And they always seem really happy about it, too, that's what gets me. This one I think I will really enjoy taking my revenge on.
7. Back to that different language thing. Did your parents ever try out the "in" vocabulary and it came out totally misused? That works in the echo years, too. Mark gave Boston something at the table and Boston patted him lovingly on the hand. "Thanks fo' be my wife."
8. They bug me to get off the phone and interrupt me whenever I'm trying to carry on a conversation with a cute guy. (Mom....Youth Conference...1995....)
9. I try to tell them that it's the weekend and I should get a break, but they still make me do all this work.
10. Someone's always crying at the dinner table. (Um, Darcy? Hope you've stopped that habit now that you're in those echo years yourself.) The bad news about the echo years is that whoever is crying is generally too young to threaten with having to do all the dishes if they don't quit it.
11. They don't like what I wear. But in the echo years, instead of just giving the raised eyebrow, they completely destroy the wardrobe before I leave the house.
12. Oh, and they make me spend my money on responsible things like socks and underwear, and when I do finally get to go shopping for some new clothes for myself, they manage to completely embarrass me in the dressing room. (My mom wasn't crawling around into other people's stalls while screaming, but she still managed to get the job done thoroughly.)
13. They cry when I leave home. My parents are still trying to pull that one on me and I'm almost thirty, so I'm thinking I must have been a really attached baby.
14. Someone short with cold feet and sharp toenails is always crawling into my bed for nightmare recovery. (Hmm. Brooke would be the original guilty party on this one.)
15. I have to change diapers. Mom, working at the nursing home was not good practice for motherhood, no matter how many times I tried to tell myself that. It was just more diapers.
16. I have big plans for when I (I mean they) grow up.
17. The potty language I am surrounded by is way beneath me.
18. My friends and I have gone through wild hormone changes and are trying to recover by telling each other repeatedly how skinny we are looking.
19. Their mouth is movin', but I ain't pickin' up what they're puttin' down, if you know whaddimean.
20. They love me more than anyone and I know they are here to teach me to be like Jesus. So I guess the echo years aren't so bad, either.

Dream Big....

We've been enjoying the fabulous weather in the evenings lately. (Afternoons are on the hot side now, but the kids have had plenty of sprinkler time. Sometimes they get two baths a day.) Sunday evening we went on our first official family bike ride. The air was warm, clear and bugless (that means perfect). The boys were good in their little trailer and Leslie rode a long way without complaining, over around some ponds by the Jordan River. It really felt like summer. I've been trying to cram in a lot of everyday summertime experiences for my kids to remember; things that we just do a lot when it's summertime and a little lazier. Going for walks and bike rides, making and eating homemade popsicles (we're on our third batch in two weeks), running through the sprinkler, playing baseball in the backyard. Trying to remember a few more that I did as a child, I even made a fake clothesline tent with some twine strung between my deck's stair post and fencepost. I'm sure everyone driving by thought we were total white trash with the orange and pink flowered bedsheets hanging over a clothesline in the backyard. The funny thing was that I didn't even have any clothespins so I had to use those metal and plastic paper clamps. But it made great shade, the kids played in it all morning and picnicked there for lunch, and when I laid inside the breeze came through, billowing the sheets and making that warm Downy+grass smell that made me just a little homesick for my own childhood. (Of course, to make it historically accurate, I really needed Jake or Duke to run by at full speed and douse me with a squirt gun.)
I decided not to let the kids have all the summertime fun, so I planned a fun date for Mark and I. We mooched off of neighboring city Saratoga Spring's splash days celebration by attending their free evening concert after the kids were tucked in bed and with a babysitter. It was Ryan Shupe and the Rubberband, a local strings-instrument band now nationally famous for their big hit last year, Dream Big. Some friends of ours were also there and reserved us prime picnic blanket spots. The concert was in a big park up in the Harvest Hills neighborhood, so while we watched the concert and the sunset, we could see Utah Lake a little and the lights of Lehi below us. Once again, the weather was fabulous and perfect (that means bugless). The music was great and every once in a while a stray balloon from one of the families around us would magically drift up to the stars. Sigh. It was beautiful and we stayed for the fireworks afterward. That part actually made me laugh because I am not used to watching fireworks with a big ole set of amps behind me, blaring out a soundtrack of classical music and patriotic songs. The only soundtrack I've ever heard while watching fireworks on the fourth was my grandma oohing and aahing with us grandkids (I'm sure she was so bored of our amazement by the end of the show) with frequent accompanying bug slaps ("there was one one your face. Honest.") up on airport hill over the tiny town of Choteau, MT on the 4th of July. It really threw me when the Mormon Tabernacle Choir came on at the end. The fireworks ended before the song, and I wasn't even sure if I should cheer or clap because I didn't know if that would be reverent! Living in Utah after 10 years still brings a few suprises.

Leslie Wonka

Leslie is super excited today because she got asked to play the role of Veruca Salt, the bossy rich girl on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, for our ward's float in the Lehi Roundup Days parade. She gets to wear lipstick, lots of curls, a pink dress and fur stole. (That is, if I can scrounge up enough scraps of Boston's old Big Bad Wolf costume.) The gal in charge chose Leslie to do the part because they actually look alot alike. She had a picture of the girl from the movie and Boston thought it WAS Leslie.
Father's day went well. Mark got to take a nap AND have a nice lasagna dinner with peaches n' cream pie for dessert. I gave him some pictures of the kids, (since I realized that we have, like, none.) Here are the results of my photo shoot. Don't they all have the most gorgeous blue eyes?
Saturday night we went on our first family venture into American Fork Canyon. We got this cool magazine a while back explaining all the fun places to go there. So we got a pizza (the kids were too hungry to wait for a campfire) and took it up to Tibble Creek Reservoir, a little mountain lake, where I figured we would picnic and Boston could throw rocks 'til the cows came home. I've been to little mountain lakes before, you see, and they are always pristine, serene, and have no chlorine. I knew just what to expect. There was one huge flaw in my expectations. I am from Montana. The Last Best Place. The Big Sky Country. Lots of square miles. No...ah... people.
Sigh. That poor little lake was like WalMart the day after Thanksgiving, but with dogs and smokers, too. The view was beautiful and it was nice to be out of the house, and those were the remarks I tried to limit myself to while in earshot of the children. They don't know any better. Boss didn't get to do much rock throwing because we were worried he'd take somebody out. It's a good thing we weren't counting on a campfire. Every picnic table within 10 miles was swarming. I had brought a picnic blanket, but was kind of dumb about the whole thing because I've forgotten that I now have three children. (My picnic blanket is the one Mark and I used for sunset picnics on campus before we were married.) So Mark sits down, Leslie sits down, Boston squeezes in, I get Coopy out of the stroller and then ... all three of them look up at me like, "So where were YOU going to sit?" It was pretty comical. There wasn't a square inch left. Coopy went back in his stroller and I sat on a big boulder with a gopher hole under it to feed the baby his jar of food. And everyone's crusts. I guess Leslie and I need to finally start cutting up the old jeans I've been saving for years. Time for a new blanket!

House of Heavy

Boston was cute yesterday. The wind blew hard all afternoon. He hates wind. He won't go outside to play if there is any. (He would have had a miserable Montana childhood...) So, as we were enjoying the sunshine in our red room, he stands out the window at the tempest and muses, "We have a good house." I grin that he is realizing his blessings and agree with him. "Yes, Boss, we do. Our house keeps us safe and warm and dry. It takes good care of us." Boston nods happily, but then gets a little swagger as he walks over to the side window. He points his finger at the house next door and shakes his head. "That house...too heavy." Whatever that is supposed to mean. I need to go wake up Cooper but I am dreading it. The last month or two have been difficult with him. He doesn't want to play all nice and contented anymore, even if he is well rested and fed with lots of toys available. I think it's because he has entered his big time clingy stage. Mark paraphrases this stage by singing, "I only have eyes...for....you!!!!" So we get lots of crankiness (both of us) and following me around, standing up and holding to my legs. I think he would love it if I just carried him around all day, in fact, I think this may even be his primary goal in life right now. I hope he goes back to pleasant, mellow baby soon.

I Wanna Be Like Marjorie...

This week has been a little slower paced with some head colds in the family. Cooper and I are about the last ones (I hope...). Mark had a long day at work yesterday but came home in a subdued mood. He had just been on the phone for a long time with one of his business acquaintances who I met as we were checking out of Primary Children's after Cooper's last surgery. They were there with their daughter who had a double cleft palate. This daughter also had hips that never connected well and heart problems and others. She had been in the hospital for four months, and when the doctors tried a procedure to help her esophagus deal with some bad acid reflux, she had a cardiac arrest that left her partially brain damaged. Now she is home, but the doctors have said she probably has about 8 months to live. After a long day, it is so wonderful for us to look around at our boisterous, loud, whole and healthy children.
I've been reading the book Glimpses about Marjorie Pay Hinckley. I've always identified her with my own grandmother (also named Marjorie) who, although a tough-as-nails Montana tomboy, also had that fabulous gift of having everyone under her spell, telling her all their problems and feeling like they were the best, most important person in the world to her. I definitely do not have that talent, yet! Hopefully I can practice being more sweetmouthed and generous with my praises. I also need to be a better listener. I love a story in the book about Sis. Hinckley's daughter-in-law. She and the Hinckley's son were living out of town for a time, and they received a call from Pres. and Sis. Hinckley every Sunday night to check on them and share their love. Then, every Monday morning, when the men were safely tucked away in their offices, Sis. Hinckley would call her daughter-in-law again. "All right now, let's have some girl talk. So how are you really?" They became very close through those Monday morning phone calls.
My grandma heard lots of problems and secrets I don't think my parents ever caught wind of. My panic attack after my first solo drive when I couldn't remember which side of the road I was supposed to be on. (Hey, it's not so easy to remember when there aren't any other cars!!) My first big crush. My frustration at being a pre-teen girl placed in the Blazer's (for boys 10-12) primary class in our branch. There were only two students and they had asked my grandma to teach it. She actually refused this calling, I think because I was so upset. The name of my first child, whispered, the last time I saw her when I was 9 mos pregnant. No one else in the family knew.
I wonder what kind of tabs she keeps on me now. Anyway, I've definitely had lots of good examples to learn from, so there is no reason I can't change for the better.

The Case of the Top-Heavy, Hiccupping Swinger

Last night (now that American Idol is done for the season) we took the kids to a nearby park. Cooper had never been in a swing before. He liked it but it was pretty funny to watch him. He was in one of those baby swings that have the leg-holes on both sides, so they are kind of deep front to back, and we didn't bring his blanket for padding. So we leaned him against the back and tucked his arms behind the chains. He thought the swinging was great and, of course, got the giggles. Being Cooper, he had a severe case of the hiccups after about the third swing and they didn't go away until we were back in the car. The funny thing was that he leaned his head back--a little too far, resting against the edge of the swing, and then he couldn't pull it back up. So the whole time his little neck was straining against the G-forces. That is, until I stopped laughing and adjusted him in his seat better, arms in front of the chains holding onto the front of the swing. He's a little top heavy!
We had a fun weekend with Mark's family at the Day reunion in their original home, Fillmore, Utah. The kids had a great time playing on the playground and in the hotel pool with all their cousins. One night they even made rockets and shot them off of an air-pressure cannon. Mark and I took the kids on a few excursions ourselves, (propelled by Cooper's need to nap in the car) to the old Capitol building (where there was a quilt show, ladies...) and to Cove Fort. Both places were lovely and interesting. We went to Cove Fort Sunday morning before church and had the missionary tour guide all to ourselves. He was patient with our kids and let them sit up on the high seat of a covered wagon. Mark and I decided that if we had been pioneers, we would have liked the Cove Fort assignment. They were basically innkeepers for people going back and forth to St. George (including a special room for the prophet) and also kept a telegraph office for all the news, so way out in the middle of nowhere they had a peaceful place to live with lots of food and supplies and interesting company. (As long as I had help with all the cooking. Sister Hinckley baked about 40 loaves of bread a week.)
Today is Leslie's last full day of school. I'm dreading not having anything to keep her busy this summer, but I'm starting to remember the bonuses of having her around. Monday she sorted all the laundry in the house and even did a few loads herself. I'm also looking forward to having her around so I don't have to put Cooper in the shower with me anymore. I can't leave him alone with Boston, and we have a walk-in shower, so it was beginning to be a problem--wet clothes and all. So I gave up and just started putting him in with me. Good thing he loves water. He just plays on the floor of the shower and crawls in laughing circles around my ankles like a little puppy.

Look at Cooper's sweet little trusting face. Like a sheep for the shearing. I was so sad for him to get his first haircut because I love how soft and feathery his hair is against my face, but Mark kept making mullet comments and insisted that the job get done. Plus Boston needed one really bad, too. So we decided that was a good pre-birthday activity. See the two of them checking out their new crews? I thought Cooper's was way too short, (I requested a missionary haircut, not a buzz, but I guess there isn't a difference, according to my manly husband) but I guess it will grow. We had kind of a laid back birthday since it was Sunday, and we had really wore ourselves out the day before. It was our Stake Preparedness Fair, and I entered some Lion House Picnic Brownies in the Dutch oven cookoff. (If you are wondering, they didn't really judge them or anything, just let everyone taste test. But mine was the only chocolate thing, so that counts for something.) Then Mark had two softball games and his team ended up winning the Stake Championship. It was fun for him but a disappointingly short season because there weren't very many teams. Then came dinner, haircuts, and we let Cooper play in my great big tub all by himself for his birthday adventure. Kind of lame for the rest of us, but not as bad as you might think because Boston had a bubble bath in his tub and the two of them were good for an entire hour. Ah, tranquility.
I let Cooper open his first present the next morning before church. It was (strategically) a new board book of barnyard animals. Leslie and Boston were so sweet and excited for him. They knelt across from him and were pointing out all the different pictures and saying the animal sounds, etc. They were knelt in a little triangle, all three heads together, laughing and smiling. ( I of course, was doing neither of those less mushy emotions.) I am just so grateful that we have been able to have all three children and weren't forced to stop at one. I heard once that the greatest assets you can give your children are brothers and sisters.
We had a little party that night with Grandpa and Grandma Day. I made a last minute menu change from Sunbeam chocolate cake to white chocolate strawberry because we discovered this week that Cooper loves strawberries. He and Boston have been eating them like candy, and they are so cheap right now. I made two batches of strawberry freezer jam this week. Cooper messed up our family tradition by not wanting to blow out his candle with a whistle/bendy straw. But he was all about the cake. He ate almost the entire piece and just kicked his legs against his highchair in delight the entire time.

Restrictions Restrictions...

I learned a great lesson on mothering for Mother's Day. Everyone let me have a nap this afternoon and I had a dream that Leslie and I were out riding bikes. I hit a pothole (typical) with a start and woke myself up. Trying to pull myself out of the post-nap-grog, I suggested to Leslie that we go practice her bike riding. A little background here...poor Leslie got a bike for her 4th birthday. Her birthday is in February when it is too cold to try things out. So we waited until May or so, when I was 5 months pregnant. That was a bad idea, but she had training wheels, so it was still fun for her and I didn't feel too much pressure for her to learn. I'm the one feeling any kind of pressure at all, because Mark and his cousins taught themselves in one afternoon, so he was kind of expecting Leslie to do the same. Maybe our boys will... So then Boston is born, we move to a new neighborhood and we kind of mess around with having her up on one wheel, but it doesn't work very well and Boston doesn't walk or anything, so I have to stay by him and watch her struggle on her own. That was summer, age 5. Then we found out Cooper would be arriving in May, you are following correctly here; summer age 6 was pretty much shot because of a newborn in arms. So now we are almost on summer age 7. We've changed flat tires and adjusted seats. We've removed the training wheels. The weather has been frigid all spring. But today, well, today Mom had a nap, a dream, sunny weather and a sunny disposition to go with it.

THE MIRACLE OCCURRED!!

Back to the cool mothering lesson I learned. I tried something different with her today. Usually I run behind her on the sidewalk and try to keep her from steering into the grass every two seconds and hopping off, then starting over, etc. Today we ventured into new territory--an entire empty development loop just north of our house. Half a mile of newly paved road in a loop with nary a car or a house , surrounded by pasture and flanked by a pretty red stucco barn. (Yeah, that part's kind of weird, but the sun was shining, so hey.) I started her in the dead middle of the road. The first few attempts were a little rough, but exciting because she finally had room to ride into the S curve and correct her balance on the push off. She SSSd all over the street, sometimes doing circles. BUT SHE STAYED ON. By the time we got to the back side of the loop, she was going in a straight line, and was officially riding her bike, stopping and starting with no problems. All this time 'staying between the lines' was holding her back! She needed enough room to balance out and correct herself for her to learn how to do it. I think sometimes I impose too many restrictions as a mother. My kids need a little room to learn.

The 4 generation pedigree isn't so big after all...

I was thinking last night that it's pretty cool that Leslie gets to know three sets of her Great Grandparents quite well. My Grandpa Happy Jack Haynes and step-Grandma Shirley came and stayed with us last night. It was so fun to see my nearly 81 year old grandpa out playing kickball with Leslie and Boston, drop kicking it out into the yard for them to chase or pitching it to Leslie. He approves of our big yard. It was also funny for me to see him after a long time and, not living close to family anymore, realize how much his gestures and mannerisms match my Dad and even my brothers. While I was cooking dinner he and Leslie sat on the couch and thumbed through a book about Joseph Smith I had on the lamp table. He had her read some of it aloud and sat and explained some of the pictures, talking to her about his trip to Nauvoo when I was just a kid. She was so interested. He talked about meeting a young couple, also tourists, and the wife asked him which branch of the church they belonged to. "Well, uh, the main one." This couple was from the RLDS church and said they were on their way to see the Kirtland temple. The wife pointed out that their church still owned that one. Grandpa wisely asked, "Oh. Well, is it working?" The wife didn't know what he meant and he bore his testimony to her (and to Leslie) about marriages that can last forever. The young wife was in tears by the time he was done, and the husband hurried her away. Grandpa was in tears telling Leslie about it. It was so sweet. Then this morning he just sat and took the time to be her friend in ways that we don't, asking about her typical schedule at school, and her lunches. He sat and went over her calendar of meals for each day and gave her advice for which foods she should pick. "I'd go for the canned pears." Shirley had fun watching the boys play and smiling at Cooper. She's a well-known local artist and this trip she painted us a big oil painting. I was a little nervous to see it because she does a lot of rugged, old barns and wildlife and stuff like that, and my house isn't really fit for that style. But it actually turned out great and will look very nice on our "grand staircase". It's an autumn picture with lots of golden quaking aspen, some fir trees, a stream and a big sky of clouds. It reminds me of going on the Alpine Loop highway. It was nice to have them stay in the basement. 1. You can't hear my babies crying down there and 2. I suppose Grandpa couldn't hear us anyway, so I wasn't nervous about anyone getting woken up. It was a good thing, too, because Boston woke up with a nightmare. I can always tell when he's had a bad dream because instead of just sneaking in to get Mark (there's a great suggestion right there, ladies, have your side of the bed as far away from the door as possible...) he runs in and slams the door behind him so whatever is chasing him can't get in! So cute.

Martha and Me

Cooper is super cute right now. He loves to jabber, and for the last month, his favorite thing to say is "Buggabuggabuggabugga." We aren't sure what that is, but it probably spawned from Boston asking for something to be "bigga bigga". So, we think Cooper is simply commanding himself to grow. He will be one year old the eighteenth and is almost walking. (If so, he'll be my earliest walker. Boston didn't walk until 17 mos, the lazy bum.) Today he was standing and holding onto cabinet handles. I handed him a toy and he stood for several moments holding it without any support. Then he realized what was going on and started to cry because he was stuck and didn't know how to get down.
Boss said something extra cute yesterday, too. We went to our nephew Tate Laker's baptism. Boston loves Tate, who completely dotes on him. While we were waiting for Tate's turn (it was a huge baptism--six kids), Mark asked Boss, "Are you going to get baptized like Tate someday?" Boston looked all aghast. "Noooo." We, of course, were thinking it was because he's a little afraid of water. Mark asked him why he said no. He replied, pointedly looking at the row of children in white, "I not dressed!"
Leslie and I have been fun the last few days practicing to sing with a group of mothers and daughters for Mothers' Day. She is the loudest kid of the bunch, and I just grin and know that she is mine. She also wants to know why there is going to be a Father Son outing and nothing for the mothers and daughters. She told Mark that they should probably have something other than camping so the moms would want to do it.
I got called to be our ward's compassionate service leader last week, so I got released from my two music callings. I'm very much looking forward to getting to help people on a more personal, Christian level and bring in meals or babysit or whatever. I've been feeling pretty good about reclaiming my schedule and being able to accomplish a lot, with scriptures every morning and finally exercising a few times a week. But sometimes I get a little discouraged at the continual to-do list of a mother and sad that sometimes the time I look forward to the most--when the kids are in bed and I can finally put my feet up and eat bonbons (figuratively, well, most of the time) is so selfish and quite meaningless. I was wondering about this last night. Why do I work hard all day to finally be able to relax and watch someone else's life in a movie or read about them in a book. What about MY life? Why am I in such a bad mood? I finally realized that I've been tricked by the worst trickster. Why do I limit my own happiness to waiting for when I have everything done on my list, the house looks beautiful, a gorgeous centerfold meal has been cooked and obediently eaten, my children are playing quietly and not bothering me or each other, and I am lounging in the sun, sipping homemade lemonade and gazing out at my flawless, beautifully landscaped backyard? HELLO! That means NEVER! And I already really do lead such a charmed life, why have I trained myself to be like this? Good grief. I read again about Martha this morning. The Lord didn't tell her, as I've always assumed he meant, "sit down and listen to the scriptures being taught and we'll just eat later". With this reading of it, I've been doing okay myself. (I do this every day.) No. He gently pointed out to her that she was being careful (footnote says worried) and troubled about many things. That's it. Read here, "Martha, Martha, thou art being UNHAPPY." Hmmm. That's me right there, and I don't think He likes me that way at all. So I've decided to not get tricked into unhappiness again. Today has been SO nice. I've practiced just enjoying life with all of my senses, and trying to appreciate single interactions with others. My pretty solitary tulip. The sound of my daughter singing. The warmth and fuzziness of my baby's too-long hair. I've also noticed that it's way easier to be more loving to my children if I'm not worrying about my to-do list or my must-have-someday list. A happy mom is a loving mom. So let's all make this a good Mother's Day week so our kids actually want to smother us with love right back.

Last of the Red Hot Lovers

We are safely past the so-called seven year itch and this week celebrated our "Nine is Fi-i-ine" anniversary on Thursday. It also happened to be our ward's temple night (all three local teenagers were busy, as usual, and so should have been our neighbors). My sister Brooke deserted me to go to Texas for the summer, and her replacement, my brother Duke, has not yet arrived. Mark's sister's basement flooded and his brother's family was fixing up their fixer upper. (I'm imagining Boston with a hammer or wet paint...) We couldn't get ahold of Mark's parents (they were probably at the temple as well?) and it was looking kind of grim for our plans. But Mark's partner and his pregnant wife and their three kids saved the day, so we got to go out after all. And of course, Mark spoiled me, as usual. He came home way early from work (bonus #1) carrying, count them, five brightly colored gift bags. He spread them out all over the room so I "couldn't peek at one while I was opening the other." (While I watched I was relieved that I had last-minute decided to bake him some cookies that were still in the oven...) In each bag was some form of chocolate (Symphony Bars, bon bons, Pepperidge farm) and clothes from Kohl's. Everything fit, even the pants, and was color and style coordinated! This is extra funny to me because for the last eight years he has stubbornly refused to buy me clothes because our first year he bought me this ugly granny sweater for Christmas and I returned it. He is just so very charming. Then we went out to Mimi's for dinner where he insisted I eat half of his dinner since I didn't like mine as much as I thought I would. Then we went across the street to Barnes & Noble and he lounged around the business section while I scoured the bargain tables. He bought me a couple even though I just recently went to a $1 book sale at the library and have this enormous stack on my shelf, unread.
We had a nice ride in the car reminiscing about some of our favorite married moments. His were, of course, the important ones of the birth of our children and moving and our travels. Mine were more emotion ridden: PRIDE--when we were newlyweds and he got called up on stage at a comedy show and they tried to make him look dumb by making him translate something into French unwittingly and of course he oolala-ed them all and all the girls were screaming about my sexy husband. LAUGHING TIL I CRIED--when Leslie was a baby and we went on our first all day date up in Montana in all most a year and it was skiing and I seriously had no idea how bad of a skier Mark is even though he is so athletic at everything else and how much better I was that I seriously laughed at him all day long (for some reason this wasn't one of his favorite memories...). CRYING TIL I LAUGHED--when we were finishing our basement and I was hugely pregnant with Cooper and he was trying to show me his sketch of his plans for the toy room and Leslie's loft and I didn't get it and started bawling and couldn't stop crying even though I knew how utterly ridiculous and hilarious and hormonal I was being and then we couldn't stop laughing. Here's to the next 9 million years together. It will be a great adventure.