July 17, 2011 FB Pics

 

And Millie was the queen of bubbles.

Poor Braden had to get food and hold Tommy at the same time - good practice for when he's a dad. 

Cayson would open both windows laughing hysterically, Tommy would get scared and back up giggling like a mad man.

Millie loved to show Tommy how to play. "now you go INSIDE the house"

And Cayson thought the house was the coolest thing ever.

Jobs

At night Tommy and I read stories in bed. 

Tommy's in charge of animal sounds (rrrrraawwwwwrrr!!!!), and I'm the boss of page turning.

Memories of Millcreek

After Josh and I got married we rented this old house from this old couple who lived in Millcreek.

Deal & LaMat (those are seriously their names), were serving a mission for the LDS Church somewhere in South Africa. While they lived under mosquito nets and hiked for clean water, we whined about washing dishes by hand and played badminton in their backyard.

I think that's called the circle of life.

Today we found ourselves near "our old neighborhood" and Tommy and I wandered the streets looking for "our old house".

I was surprised by how much I'd forgotten, and how much I never knew.

The people on the corner have the most enormously beautiful shade tree on the whole street. We never even met the Corner People. And until today I couldn't have told you if they even had grass much less any other living thing in their backyard.

The people 2 houses down have a cat at least 2 times larger than our current neighbors dog. I think it might have been a bobcat.

The next door neighbors still have grown children coming and going like their parents run a shopping mall - or a drug house. Whatever. (Hi Marchants!)

Here's what's surprising to me: we lived there for a year and a half and I think today was the first time I walked down the street that leads to ours.

In our current neighborhood I can tell you which houses have the biggest shadiest trees, where the water pools in the gutters and where every utility cover is along the whole street. That's because in our current neighborhood Tommy and I regularly go on walks and these are the important things to him.

In the old house the important thing was where I kept the car keys. There was nothing important about the neighborhood.

We had lived there for just a couple of months when our neighbor asked me why we were never outside. I was taken aback (that's right - aback) and stammered some lame answer about being "really busy". It took me days to realize that when you move into a neighborhood when you're the only non-retired folks, you stand out. Your lack of flowers, the slightly less-green shade of your lawn, the fact that you don't sit on your front porch in the evenings to watch the "traffic". (On a street only 5 houses long, the single car passing by every 45 minutes can hardly be called traffic.) We were certainly odd in that neighborhood.

We loved our neighbors, we loved the people on the street, we loved the ward, and Josh even challenged the kids down the street (and the only other people on the block less than 50 years old) to the biggest baddest waterfight there ever was. But we simply didn't know the neighborhood well. We knew next-to-nothing about the people around us. So although we thought they were the coolest old people we knew, I can hardly remember their names now.

When we first moved into that house I dreamt of bringing our first baby home there. I could hardly wait to lay on the front lawn with my newborn child and watch the "traffic" go by on our slightly less-green lawn. I imagined rocking him to sleep in the bedroom connected to ours. I worried about the noise he'd make during church. I had no idea my dream would wait until long after we left that house.

I love our neighborhood now. I love our neighbors especially. But today I sortof miss Millcreek.

Knock Knock

When Tommy wakes up from his nap (or first thing in the morning), he goes to his door and knocks.

He has usually made some noise by then, so I'm waiting just outside the door to knock back. He knocks, I knock, he knocks and then I open the door to see his smiling face and he runs into my arms. I pick him up, he wraps his arms around my neck and rubs and pats my back and I do the same to him.

Usually I carry him back into his room and we sit in the rocking chair for a few minutes to talk about whether or not he "had a good snoozin'?"

He usually did. But we have an unspoken agreement that we don't really need to say any other words during our cuddle time so he doesn't answer verbally. Just with a quiet pat on the back.

He started this "I'm dong sleeping" routine 30 minutes into his nap today. He's whining and crying at the door knocking our secret knock every 3 or 4 minutes and I'm boycotting his decision to end nap time so early.

But I love the routine so much that I almost wish I could go do the routine, read another story and have 2 naps this afternoon. But only almost.

Channeling My Inner Rachel

Rachel is a friend of mine. She reads more books in a month than I do in a year. And it's just because she likes it.

When you ask her what she's currently reading she usually lists at least 3 books. Then tells you about "But I can't wait to start....." and lists 3 or 4 more which she just bought and put on her "to read next" shelf in her beautiful home.

When you ask her if she saw So You Think You Can Dance last night, she says "no, but I read ______" and it's always true. She reads instead of watching things. She reads instead of playing things. I'm willing to bet that she reads while she eats too. But my favorite is that she reads in nature. She reads while her husband hunts and fishes. She reads on the boat and in the trailer. She reads under trees and on mountain tops.

That's why I took this picture while we were camping.

Because when you're all Rachel-y you should probably document it. Sometimes the more like Rachel you can feel, the better.

Da Belly: 23 Weeks

You want the terrible truth about 23 weeks? Really? The honest-to-goodness no-holds-barred truth? 

23 weeks is mostly awesome, except for the shrunken bladder syndrome. I'm tired, I'd like to take a nap, and  I don't always want to eat what's in my fridge. However, I'm capable of staying awake all day, and able to go far more than 24 hours without puking, so I really have no room to complain. 

NBE however, has PLENTY of room to complain or do whatever else he'd like to do. I've made sure to expand my belly at a record-breaking rate just so he doesn't get too squishy in there. I'd hate for him to be uncomfortable you know....

Part of the reason we chose to camp at Affleck Park this year was the bathrooms. When you pee 9,000 times a day you don't want it to be on the ground. But in the middle of the night, the hike to the bathroom seems hardly worth it, because the bushes are much much closer. That's the honest-to-goodness truth. 

Also the night that Tommy slept with us he did an awful lot of kicking me "ugh - right in the baby!" and the baby did an awful lot of kicking me right anywhere he wanted. I think I felt NBE more times in one night than I felt Tommy through the entire pregnancy. 

He's calmed down since then and I feel him maybe only once a day, but that's still WAY more than Tommy. Which is fine by me. This NBE and I are gonna be friends. I can feel it already.

Affleck Park

Here's what you need to know about camping with Tommy.

His favorite hobby is throwing rocks into bodies of water that will go "splash".

Rocks are most often tiny pieces of gravel. Bodies of water that go "splash" are often as small as 3 drips.

And he can't miss even one opportunity.

Also he is good at helping set up the tent.

Until he realizes there are some rocks he hasn't picked up yet.

We all had our first priorities upon arriving at our campsite. My top priority had to do with Josh lighting our dinner on fire so we could eat it right away. Tommy's top priority had to do with picking up the (cold) coals from the fire before ours and rubbing them all over his face.

We played games and read books (me) and went for walks and licked the dirt (Tommy) and ate food and tickle tortured our child (Josh) and it was a beautiful thing.

I like being the 3 of us dirty and stinky and uncivilized. It suits us.

 

The first night Tommy wasn't thrilled about going to bed. He stayed awake (and quiet) for nearly an hour before Josh dared to check on him, and found him standing in the pack-n-play staring at the window in the tent as if he was just waiting for someone to come and play with him. When Josh pulled a fast one and ran the other way Tommy was MAD. By the time we went to bed we were done listening to him whine and whimper and just let him sleep with us in our sleeping bag. Which he did.
Sideways.
All. Night. Long.

The next day the Hales showed up bringing cold water (have you ever noticed how desperately you need cold water while camping? No? Just me?) and entertainment for Tommy.

We spent the day playing more games, eating more food, and telling the children to "Stay away from that fire!!!!"

Spencer spent his entire night as master of the fire because he felt some need to burn a week's supply of wood in 24 hours. Which he probably did.

 

Tommy was apparently tired enough not to care where he slept that night, and he went down just beautifully sleeping for 12 hours!!!

If it wasn't for the wicked violent rainstorm in the middle of the night, Josh and I might have slept at least 3 hours in a row which would've been some kind of record - but it did rain, enormous LOUD drops of rain. It was beautiful. And wet. Which made for a perfectly soggy cool mountain morning. Perfect for pancakes and MORE FIRE!!! (insert Tim Allen man-grunt here)

Tommy sat reverently on the picnic table and folded his arms while we cleaned things up. Oh wait, no. That's not what happened at all. But you would never believe that, because who is going to side with me against a face like this?

Sunday morning we packed everything up (in record time!) and raced home for church.

I think we all wished we had just one more day, reminding Josh and I that a 3-day work week (as a nurse) just might be the greatest invention of all time.

[chants: school is worth it. school is worth it. school is worth it.]

A Difference of Opinion

One person in our house thinks that blowing lemon-scented bubbles in the kitchen until you are lightheaded has the same effect as mopping with lemon Pine-Sol. (Wet, slippery, lemony.)

One person in our house does not.

I'll let you think whatever you want about who is who.

The Truth

My baby loves me.

Exhibit A:

But what you can't hear is the "goodbye" song on Blue's Clues coming from the living room.

Because that's the real reason Tommy is blowing kisses - they aren't for me, they're for a drawing of a dog and a dude in a striped shirt. It's all he can do to not make out with the tv he loves them so much.

*sigh*

Camping

Last year when we went camping Tommy still didn't know how to walk.

Or eat rocks.

That's my excuse for not telling you all about the details the day we got back (today).

I'm tired.

And Tommy's full of rocks.

But you're really gonna love it when I get around to telling you all about it.

Because camping with a pregnant lady and a toddler is awesome.

Dress Code

I've only lived/worked/schooled 1 place that really had a dress code. At least one that actually changed the way I dressed and that was when I worked for the LDS Church. They made me wear nylons. Every. Single. Day.

So sometimes I wonder about the dress codes for other places.

Like the 7-11 in West Valley.

While Josh was fixing an issue with the Redbox there, I got to watch people come and go. And I think I learned the dress code.

If you are a woman ("woman" is temporarily defined as any female 12 or older) you should be wearing a strappy tank (like what I think is an undershirt) or tube top which you should be falling out of. Even if you're 12. Also booty shorts.

If you are a man ("man" is temporarily defined as "male") you should wear some kind of tank top. Probably a t-shirt with the arms torn off is best, and basketball shorts (or pants if you're over 70). At least one article of clothing should be black. It doesn't matter if you're playing basketball or not, this. is. the dress code. Also it doesn't matter if you're 2 years old, or 85. This. is. the dress code.

Footwear is optional, but if you choose to cover your feet instead of quick-tip-toeing across the parking lot, you should wear either flip flops or big fat puffy basketball shoes.

At first I started grumbling about how "if I see one more bra strap today, I'm gonna....." and then a woman whose bra straps would have been showing had she been wearing a bra, meandered in front of my car. And suddenly I was grateful to have seen SO many bra straps.

I suppose it mostly makes me grateful for my Mom Dress Code. Which is...
Clothes if you're going out, bathrobe if you're staying in: burn all your nylons.

However, the best dress code I know is Tommy's. (As borrowed from his friend Ollie)
Pants. Are. Optional.

Sleep Elevated

When we got Tommy's mattress I thought it was great to have him on the floor because when he fell out it didn't even count as a fall.

But the more times I knelt on the floor to snuggle him in bed, and the more times I grunted when I got up, and the closer he got to beating me to the door when I tried to sneak out....the harder I looked on ksl for a real (cheap) bed.

Last weekend I found the perfect one.

Tommy loves it. It has drawers. And most importantly I can get out of it without feeling like I'm 80.

He is now sleeping in the biggest big boy bed there ever was.

Grownup: Peaches

Usually I'm a 12 year old trapped in an ever-aging (and these days growing) body, but every now and then I feel like a grownup.

Because once in a while, I do grownup things, like...

shop with a grocery list that doesn't include candy & popsicles.
cook dinner for my family and serve it on a plate at the table.
pay my bills.
sit on the side and watch my child have all the fun at the splash pad instead of getting all wet with him.
work.

Yesterday was one of those grownup days.

I had a case of peaches on my kitchen table just waiting to be taken care of.
I had talked for days about needing to "do the peaches" (which is an old lady phrase in and of itself) and since I could smell them getting riper by the second,  we borrowed Josh's mom's big canning pot and I got everything ready to go.
I started the stuff boiling, I washed the bottles I already owned (you know, cuz I'm a grownup and grownups have bottles) I set up the stations, I rinsed the fruit and removed the stickers.
I invited MIL to come and "play" and she brought Tommy's favorite uncle, so while the boys bounced balls in the living room, we women put up the peaches.

We wore aprons, we each took a phone call continuing to blanch and cut the peaches while we talked with the phone in the crook of our neck. We dripped peach juice to our armpits (OK maybe that was just me) and we tripped over tiny baby bodies under our feet. We talked about recent trips and upcoming events. And at the end of the day, I had some beautiful bottles of peaches. ALL of which sealed (miraculously!) and quite simply, I feel grownup.

I've bottled lots of things before (my mother grows a garden that simply requires bottling & freezing things) but I've never been the boss of it.

Because being the boss is for grownups.

On Our Walk

Tonight we went for a family walk so we could convince Tommy that he was tired enough for bed.

On our walk we chatted with neighbors about upcoming events in their lives. We pet other people's puppies and we ran into people we knew and cared about. We waved "hi! hi! hi!!!" and "buh-bye" to our friends' houses. We   got jealous of the night swimmers at the pool and ran through someone else's sprinklers.

When we moved into this neighborhood we thought "this is a great starter home" and we loved the neighborhood. We didn't think we'd live here for long, and we thought we'd move on before we got too attached.

We never imagined in a million years that this place would feel so much like home or that we'd be so comfortable here.

4th of July

Sometimes on a "day off" Josh and I pretend we're hermits and just want to stay home doing nothing all day long.

And that's when I worry about Tommy's knowledge of holidays.

What if he goes to school and finds out that on Christmas morning you're supposed to open ALL of your presents and not just however-many-you-can-open-before-mom-&-dad-get-bored and put the rest away for future gifts?

What if he's in high school before he knows that there is a holiday in the summer where you light stuff on fire?

What if he's married and his wife tells him there's a whole holiday where he's supposed to buy her stuff because he loves her?

He'll probably be permanently scarred from all the pinching that will go on before I teach him about wearing green for St. Patrick.

Bottom line: I'm naturally a holiday slacker.

So yesterday I tried to repent.

I dragged Josh to a parade in Clearfield in the morning. Josh does not love parades. Or salt water taffy. But Josh does love Tommy. And me. 


I love this picture because sometimes I think that Josh & Tommy's brains are linked. And sometimes the things in Josh's brain come out in Tommy's face. Like this:

"K mom. We're at the parade. We're smiling. You took a picture for the blog. Can we go home now?"

But that parade is where we earned our candy for the day. We brought home enough taffy to last us until New Year's at which point we'll throw out the leftovers because we're gonna eat salad every day for the rest of our lives. Or at least until Josh's birthday on Jan 2nd.

It only took 2 firetrucks before Tommy figured out that cheering = candy. And that candy = picking stuff up off the street and eating it. But then he got tired, this is his 'lazy clap'.

After naps (and a bit of a boring afternoon) I convinced Josh to go to Sandy for the festivities there.

So we watched another (better) parade with significantly less candy due to the small crowd of 7-16 year olds standing right in front of us.

The parade is where we learned that Tommy can and will drink the whole backpack of water without ever stopping to breath - or share. Rude!

This is also where we learned that his mother is just selfish enough to snatch it out of his mouth, put him up high where he can't reach it and take the rest of the water for herself. And NBE - cut me some slack.

Afterward we wandered around the booths, which is how we learned that a cup of ketchup and a snowie is a perfectly acceptable dinner for a little boy who is already full of taffy.

And then we sat down and waited for the concerts.

The concerts were lovely. The firework show made Josh say "I'm so glad we came, these are amazing!" no less than 20 times before we even left.

Plus Tommy thought they were cool enough to keep him from having a complete meltdown even though it was hours past bedtime.

THAT my friends, is what we call holiday success.

22 Weeks: Toothbuds & Whining

Baby Center swears that NBE is developing toothbuds beneath his gums as we speak.

I'm in denial.

Considering that Tommy didn't have any teeth until nearly his first birthday, and when we figure that every tooth he has came out and in and out and in at least 3 times.....I think it's reasonable to assume that my babies are not so quick in the tooth department.

It is nice to pretend that NBE could come fully toothed. Imagine a whole baby with no teething. Ever.

I think that might be heaven.

While NBE is busy working on being in pain for the next 2 years of his life, I've been busy working on whining about the weather.

Have you noticed that it's hot? And did you know that kids don't care that it's hot? They don't mind being stinky and sweaty and covered in sand? They don't cringe as their tender perfect skin turns pink. They don't notice that they haven't had anything cold to drink in more than an hour and they slide down the slide even when it's HOT HOT HOT!!!

Plus, they think it's funny to take off their shoes and put their smelly feet in your face.

I don't remember hating the sun this much when I was pregnant with Tommy, but I'm certain I did.

I also don't remember being as big as a barn, but I know I was, and this time I'm feeling it early.
That spot so low on my back that it can really only be described as my butt, aches & throbs all day long paralyzing me anytime I try to lay down.
The swelling has begun and soon I'll have to turn in my wedding ring.
The constant bending over has me holding my back as I stand back up and looking like I'm 80.
Exhaustion has set in and I simply can't be expected to stay up later than 10:30 (unless of course Jack Bauer needs me.)

I'm nowhere near the "big as a barn" 3rd trimester, but I feel like this child could come shooting out of me any minute. Or maybe that's just my lack of bladder control....

Wishes

Baby #2 has sortof stopped going by "David". It's one of things that sounded less perfect the more we said it, and finally Josh said "I don't think he's gonna be David." one day and that was the end of that.

Back to the drawing board.

But just because He Who Cannot Be Named doesn't actually "go by" anything doesn't stop me from hoping for him just as much as I hoped for Tommy.

In addition to all of the hopes I had for Tommy, I now hope for Tommy-related things. It makes me wonder, with each child do your expectations and dreams grow? Because I know some people with a lotta kids (Hi Duggars!) whose youngest probably has a dream list 10 miles long......

I hope NBE will be best friends with his big brother. Because his big brother is the coolest kid I know. 


I hope that NBE can tell when it's Tommy banging on my belly "beeee beeee!!!!!" and doesn't think his mother is abusing him.

I hope NBE isn't known as He Who Cannot Be Named for much longer.

I hope NBE is as loved as Tommy. I'm secretly terrified that this won't be the case because so many people loved Tommy so much that I have a hard time thinking that as many people will care as much the 2nd time around.

I hope NBE learns all the brilliant things from Tommy and none of the naughty ones. Brilliant: cars say "beebeep!" Naughty: potties double as hats.


I hope that NBE is as good of an eater as Tommy. But only until he becomes an obnoxious teenaged boy who is eating me out of house and home. Then I hope he becomes as picky as our neighbor Cole. (Is he still picky Ashlie?) Because I think I might be able to afford a diet of grilled cheese sandwiches and bran muffins.

I hope that Tommy doesn't teach him how to run, because if he does and they both go in opposite directions at the same time, this tired mom will just lay down in the middle and pray they come home eventually. You know...because mom is the guardian of the popsicles.

I hope NBE understands the power of the popsicle! What if he doesn't care about popsicles? Will I have any power at all??

But again, I mostly hope that he is happy and healthy and knows where he came from.

Because that will be enough.

A Dirty Dirty Day

Sometimes I go to bed feeling just as clean as when I got out of the shower in the morning.

Yesterday was not that day.

Josh works this weekend (including the 4th) so we decided to do something fun yesterday. But also we're a little broke, so "fun" also had to mean "free".

We started our morning with a little hike around Silver Lake. We originally thought we'd also go out to Lake Solitude and enjoy some peace & quiet, but we remembered what sissies we are, and how short Tommy's legs are and how many of the pinecones he insisted on picking up along the way (100%) and that while Tommy had a jacket "on the off chance it's a little chilly", neither of us were dressed for hiking up through the snowpack. And it was COLD. 52 degrees cold. So, we stuck to Silver Lake.

Remember last year when we hiked to Donut Falls through the snow and Tommy was barefoot? It was slightly better than that. All of us were wearing shoes & Tommy was dressed the most warmly. See? I'm learning how to be a better mom!

First Daddy showed Tommy how to splash in the water.

That's why we had to drag him out of every puddle along the trail.

And why he ran looking like this toward every "next one!"

Click to blow up this picture, if you don't think it's adorable I'll give you all your money back.

It was cold, and he was wet, and I was seriously (over)concerned about him getting frostbite.

But before long, he discovered the joy of a dock. I think he would've stood out on the dock making fishy faces and throwing in every stick and rock in site for the rest of the afternoon if his parents weren't so mean (and cold).

Josh we excited to teach "the boy" about worms. Tommy was excited that he could make his mom go "eeeeeewwwwwww!!!!" and shriek anytime he wanted.

Tommy's favorite new game has to do with pinecones and throwing them over the edge.

Josh's favorite new game has to do with making sure Tommy doesn't fly over the edge with the pinecone.

I was there too.

There were "revegetation" signs all over the place to keep troublemakers *cough*Josh*cough* off the stuff. But even Josh wasn't tempted to "travel beyond this sign".

The ducks however were a different story.

By the time we got back to the car, we were ready for our picnic, and the sun had come out. So we got comfy on a picnic table and shared our lunch with squirrels.

It was a beautiful walk around a beautiful lake.  Just what we needed.

But hiking followed by the zoo followed by a trip to the downtown Walmart makes for a DIRTY DIRTY day. I came home feeling 100% disgusting and ready for a bath!