Because I can do hard things

So yesterday, after writing that post about my total lack of picture-taking skills, I forced myself to take pictures. Because  weaknesses can become strengths, right? Or at least I can swallow my pride and frustration with the whole thing and do it anyway.

And because this was too wonderful not to document.

So I believe I've mentioned before that my mother is a seamstress. She really and truly is phenomenal. Her sewing skills are not only vast, they are deep. She does many things. And she does them all well.

One of my favorite types of things she sews is heirloom children's clothing. Hand smocking. Piping. Lace. Pleats.So so darling. My childhood was littered with dresses sewn by my mother. To my fifth birthday party I wore a yellow smocked dress... with lace on the edge of the puff sleeves. I thought that lace was so elegant and pretty (even as a five year old). I vividly remember the year we all wore various styles of pale green dresses for Easter (and took pictures in Grandma and Grandpa Snowball's backyard). My first-day-of-school dress in first grade was a purple dress with a smocked pinafore. My favorite doll (also made my mom) had a matching dress (she still wears it). Second grade was a blue dress with a big red apple appliqued on the collar.

My memories of these and other dresses are so tender to me. They are associated with love and the devotion of my mother. I would give anything to have one or two of them back in my possession (anyone know what happened to them all? Mom? Are they in a box somewhere??).

So you can imagine how thrilled I was when my mom called to tell me she had just bought material to make Miss Virginia an Easter dress. Delighted. I held my breath in anticipation.

And oh. my. She did not disappoint. Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present (despite my poor photography skills) Ginny's Easter Dress.

(I love it so much I wanted to cry every time I looked at it on Ginny on Sunday. It is beautiful.)

 (Can you tell she's been crying? I was frantic to get the pictures taken before Raymond woke up from his nap, however. I'm just grateful she's not screaming in these pictures.)

 (Almost a smile. I'll get one with a real smile someday!)

 (If this last picture hadn't turned out blurry, it just might have been my favorite. I adore those big blue eyes and jowls.)

My name is Carly Christiansen, and I am habitually bad at taking pictures.

I just can't seem to forgive myself for not being a picture-taker. It is a source of unending guilt for me. I constantly feel bad that I am simply NO GOOD at remembering or successfully taking pictures at important events or holidays. Not even to mention the quality of the photos when I do take them.

And honestly I curl up inside at the continual realization that I simply FAIL at this. Over and over. Holiday after holiday. Ordinary day after ordinary day. I am ashamed of myself. Embarrassed. And annoyed.

Seem melodramatic? Perhaps. But really and truly true. True that my inability to successfully record the everyday events of our lives constantly nags at me.

Picture taking, my friends, is not my gift, talent, or even capability. I do not aspire to it or really want anything to do with it. Try a new recipe? Sure! Experiment with my sewing machine? You bet! Read a new book? Any day! Take pictures? I can't even find my camera.

I have no desire to get a nice camera, learn about natural lighting, or have a camera in my hands during any given exciting moment. I really would be oh so happy with a magic picture fairy would show up and do these things for me. But I don't think it's likely.

I am honestly at a loss as to how to resolve this problem in my life. My desire to have pictures conflicting with my urges to take them, that is.

Sigh.

Who's child is this?

Raymond is a social butterfly.

Disclaimer: he can be very slow to warm up sometimes, especially in new places or situations, right after taking a nap, or around people he doesn't know. He will be a little introvert until he's comfortable... and then watch out!

Seriously though, this boy loves to be around kids his age. We were first to arrive at play group at the park today, so we just sort of did our thing for a while. Raymond wasn't too excited about the swings, the slide, or the dandelions (which he usually loves to find and pick). It was a little windy and chilly and overall blah.

And then Micah showed up. And WOW Mr. Social Butterfly came out of his cocoon. He was talking and running and ecstatic to do any and everything the park had to offer.

And the more kids that showed up, the more animated Raymond got. No one was more excited to go down that slide, more eager to run across the grass, more ready to dig in the dirt than Raymond.

I didn't think kids this age really "got" the whole friend thing. I thought they were still pretty independent players. And maybe so, but Raymond is much happier about it all when a few little guys his age are around.

Really and truly he thrives off social interaction.

And to be honest I can't for the life of me figure out where  it came from. I was super shy as a child. Jeremy claims to have suffered from mega anxiety as a child when left to play at other kids houses. Nope, this is all 100% Raymond personality shining through. He has been this way from just about the time he could look over my shoulder and makes faces at people in church.

It makes me excited for a year from now when Ginny will be much more of a little playmate for him. I have high hopes that the two of them will love playing and being together. And maybe Ginny will meet some of his social needs... either that or I am going to have to be much more proactive about setting up play dates for the boy!

The Count Down

I have been counting down to THIS WEEK for weeks now.

It's Easter week! Dying Eggs! Eating Jelly Beans!

My mom and dad and Paige are coming! 

It's time to start packing!

My new glasses are coming!

As you can see, there are quite a few things I am utterly ecstatic about. Really and truly ecstatic. I thought this week really would never arrive. Clearly I lead a normally very boring life. Because none of these things are really all that exciting. My company will only be here for an hour or so as they travel up to Provo for some BYU baseball games. And who gets excited about packing? (Answer: this organization freak. There is true satisfaction in carefully and methodically filling up boxes)

But really and truly all these things have been giving me hightened feelings of anticipation for a long time. Many weeks.

The only bummer is that except for the packing (which I have thrown myself into with gusto), the next soonest thing to come true is Thursday. THURSDAY...

Sometimes I think I just might go crazy with anticipation!

OH the possiblities

This morning my little sister Paige called me in a panic because she thought her freshman registration started this morning (at BYU, her soon-to-be new hangout). She was ubber super stressed about the whole scary process. (Registration, it turned out, isn't today after all.)

And since once upon a time I worked for Freshman Academy (now Freshman Mentoring), she called me first. Even though that was um, some ten years ago that I worked there. And I definitely don't know the ins or outs of freshman registration any more.

Anyhow, my total ignorance soon surfaced in our conversation as I was racking my brain to remember what American Heritage is all about.

Since Raymond was occupied watching his daily dose of Elmo on our computer (somebody shake me for ever letting that boy anywhere near that obnoxious fuzzy red monster), I couldn't get online and be really helpful to her. You know, figure out how Freshman Mentoring works and what the GE requirements are.

But have no fear, as soon as I miraculously got both of my children asleep (mornings walks work wonders for nap time) you better believe I was doing my sisterly duty and browsing through BYU's academics pages.

And I remembered anew just how much fun registering for classes can be. I don't think a single semester went by during my stay at the said BYU that I didn't get giddy over registration days. I mean giddy. I love me a new schedule of classes, full of hope and possibilities and learning.

And Paige, well she's just staring out. There are so many options. Floral Design! History of Jazz!  Masterpieces of American Literature!

My heart skips a beat at the thrilling prospect of any or all of those classes! Gosh and golly, Paige, I am just so excited for you!!  Can I come? Can you pack me in your laptop bag and let me sit in on a few? Because, man!, you are in for a treat.

It's been a while

Since some mirror pictures have graced this space. Today definitely wasn't my best photo-shoot (although that isn't stopping me from posting the results--proceed with caution), but it does showcase a few things I love:

1.Sweet Virginia with all her four and a half month  grown-up-ness. She was desperately trying to see what was happening on the camera screen. Can you believe how big this cute girl is? She is super-dee-duper alert and active. She loves to get one-on-one attention, play with Raymond's pirate doll (as in, she adores this doll), go for walks in the increasing spring weather, and eat rice cereal (I know! I can't believe I caved and started already either. But she loves it, so I guess I'll forgive myself).

2. My Baby K'tan. I cannot sing the praises of this baby sling enough. I love, love, love it. And so does Ginny considering she likes to be totted around almost everywhere I go.  (And um, yes. She does have a mullet. I keep debating whether or not to cut it. I will also admit that her hair seems to be growing in much more red than it was at birth. Or maybe all the dark hair is just falling out and leaving the few scattered red ones to fend for themselves? Only time will tell.)

3. And we couldn't leave Raymond John out of the  mix. Only he wasn't very happy I wouldn't give him the camera. Sorry dude. (And yes, this boy's hair gets curlier and curlier. I love it with my whole heart.)

Sorry I didn't get a single good picture of either of my kiddos smiling. They do smile quite often, however. You'll just have to take my word for it.

A very merry unbirthday...

...to ME!

Well, half birthday, actually. Today I am quite officially twenty eight and a half. Yea for benchmarks.

After I had already moved out of the house my mom started an impromptu tradition with some of my siblings still at home. On their half birthday she would pay for half of one item (up to $50) and they would pay the other half.

If such an offer were made to me today, I would get this skirt (in black) since pretty much none of my (non maternity) skirts can be comfortably zipped up yet. And I am so over either wearing maternity skirts or being uncomfortable on Sundays. Alas.

But wish-lists aside, I must say that I am happy today is a middle-mark day. I like stepping back and taking stock in where I am in life. Good things have happened in the last six months. Sweet Ginny of course. The law school decision is made. The last semester at SUU is just about ended.

And so much good is coming! Moving and then more moving. A trip to the zoo (my one undying request for moving to Salt Lake).  Raymond turns two. Law school starts with a new rhythm and swing.

I am looking forward to all of it.

And I am looking forward to today and the little everyday gifts it has to offer. Baby kisses at the top of that list.

What is at the top of your wish-list? What are you looking forward to today?


As an unrelated note, I will confess that hardly a post is ever written in which I don't worry and wonder and stress over the idea that I might offend someone with what I write. Definitely not ever EVER my intention. I hope that yesterday's post did not in any way offend.  I was simply outlining what our game plan is. I know everyone has to figure out what works best for them. I am a big believer in doing what works best for you, your family, your circumstances unapologetically.

It shouldn't be hard...

...to sit very still
And think about Jesus, his cross on the hill,
And all that he suffered and did for me;
It shouldn't be hard to sit quietly.
It shouldn't be hard even though I am small,
To think about Jesus, not hard at all.
Primary Song Book, pg 71

Key word here: shouldn't.  Oh but it is, isn't it?
 

I have a friend who has asked me a few times how we keep Raymond reverent during sacrament meeting. I'm sure every single time I look at her surprised and incredulous... because I wasn't sure there were many specific things we were doing to make it happen. And besides that, I'm not sure I think Raymond is always very reverent. He loves to make faces at anyone and everyone sitting behind us (a true little charmer), he likes to try to get to the bench behind us by any means possible, he has been known to start vocalizing his frustration when he doesn't get what he wants immediately.

But by and large, I will say Raymond is a pretty calm little fellow, particularly in public or around people he doesn't know. This means that at Church he can be much more introverted than at home, and will fairly quietly observe everyone and everything around him.

And on top of all that, he and I read books together all day every day. We spend (literally) hours and hours looking at books together. Every day. Thus, when we get to church and his church bag is full of books to look at, he knows what to do. He is very used to that sort of entertainment.

But the question from my friend prompted an in-depth conversation between Jeremy and I on our philosophies about sacrament worship with kids. And while we are not perfect, we are idealist who work hard at putting their ideals into practice. It was interesting to put to words the things we have been almost subconsciously doing with Raymond. I thought I would share what we've learned in the past (almost!) two years.

1. We believe that the goal of sacrament meeting with kids is not to simply keep the children quiet so mom and dad can get something out of the meeting. I'll say it again: the goal is not to make them quiet. The goal for us is to teach reverence. And there is no better time and place to teach than than actually during the meeting. This means we are not stressed out about no longer being able to take notes, hear the whole talk, or otherwise be spiritually uplifted. I mean obviously we want those things to be possible, but know that in the grand scheme they won't always. And that's ok.
2. We work hard to spend the meeting teaching Raymond reverence. We do that by involving him actively in what is going on. For his whole first year of life, Jeremy was in a bishopric and thus never helped with Raymond. When that ended, we shared the responsibility. Now Jeremy takes full custody of Raymond and I of Ginny. So for now, this applies mostly to Jeremy (since Ginny still likes to cry all during Sacrament meeting, I am either at the back of the chapel bouncing her in my arms or in the mother's lounge). Anyhow, Jeremy will sit Raymond on his lap and talk to him through most of the meeting. Pointing out and discussing what is going on during Sacrament, singing hymns and pointing at the words together, pointing out the bishop, and looking at books about Jesus. 
3. We are super ridiculously strict about what our kids are allowed to do during sacrament meeting. The point for us is we do not want to trap ourselves into behavior that will be inappropriate in the future. For example, he is not allowed to eat (he can drink water from his sippy cup, however). We don't do cheerios, raisins, or fruit snacks. He will not starve for an hour. This means we purposefully feed him right before we come. And before he went to nursery, he did get snacks during Sunday school and the third hour. Obviously I know that snacks work for keeping kids quiet, but there's nothing worse than watching seven, eight, twelve year olds eating their way through the meeting too. It's a bad habit we don't want to start. This goes for toys and games too.  We are even getting stricter about coloring or drawing. 
4. We provide other appropriate materials to help him get through the long meeting. For Christmas this year my mom made and assembled church bags for all the grandkids. They are FANTASTIC. She bought quite a few books at Deseret book and we have a few others we rotate into the mix. Since Raymond likes reading books (mentioned earlier), this works great for him.When he sees the bag, he knows it's time to go to church.
5. We teach as clearly as possible that being in the meeting is always better than being in the hall. Jeremy and I both work hard at making being in the meeting more "fun" than getting taken out. Obviously Ginny is too young to really learn this yet, but pretty soon, she will. We started very early with Raymond making the hall a no-good place to be. He gets held tightly in Jeremy's arms with no talking and very restricted movement. No walking in the halls. No looking at pictures. No talking to other people. While being in the meeting means he can move anywhere on our bench (we take a whole side bench). whisper with mom or dad about what's going on, look at other people, read his books. I can't even remember the last time we took Raymond out (unless it was to change his diaper). He knows he would rather be in the meeting.
6. We are diligent about getting to church early. This might seem like a bad idea since it just prolongs the whole meeting, but it actually makes reverence better. Raymond is allowed to stand on the bench and watch people come in (he loves to do this). He shakes the bishopric's hands. He can eat the piece of candy the high counselor gives him (only before the meeting starts). The prelude music really does get him in church mode. It is a calm and quiet transition for him.
7. At five after, if the speaker has not stopped speaking, we don't restrict or hold him back any more. (Well, obviously we wouldn't just let him scream or anything). But if the meeting goes long, we lighten up a little. And hope the speaker takes the hint!
8. We believe nursery is inspired. Hooray for play time after all that reverence!!

It's definitely a work in progress, with some Sundays much better than others.  We'll see how it goes as Ginny begins getting older and as more children get added to the bench. Maybe we'll learn that all are efforts really don't amount do much and it's just Raymond's personality that seems to make it more-or-less work. That and that fact that so far there are only two of them (and two of us)!!

Anyhow, what do you do to teach reverence to your little ones?

Speaking of things I enjoy doing

Growing up, Sara was the neat one. She liked to have all her things in their places, which made me scared to touch anything in her room. In comparison, I never really considered myself as neat or organized.

But I think in some respects, I always have been made after the same mold as Sara. As I think back on my childhood, I was pretty meticulous about putting my things away in their places too. My American Girl doll (Molly) had her special suitcase that I kept neatly under the bed. I always put books back on the shelf from exactly where I got them (and prided myself on knowing where every book in the house was). I have always hung my clothes in the closet facing the same way, organized by color or shirt type etc. I have never been one to leave my clothes strewn about the bedroom (shudder).

I think I have always been an organizer without realizing it.

And now, I accept the label wholeheartedly. I devise plans in the middle of the night for how I want to better organize and utilize our limited space. I truly find pleasure in rearranging, refitting, and cleaning out cupboards, closets, and living spaces. I find it wholly satisfying to fit everything into place just right.

Or maybe I'm just OCD?

Regardless, I tell you, since becoming a full-time stay at home-er, my mind is constantly reeling with plans to organize and reorganize. Jeremy will sometimes ask me in the morning, "What are you going to do today?" and a typical response is, "reorganize the vacuum closet."

A few weeks ago we needed to make some serious changes in our bedroom. On either side of our bed were desks that Raymond gloried in climbing onto from our bed. After writing in permanent marker all over the comforter (pen obtained from Jeremy's desk), I knew the set-up had to change. I think it took me two or three days to get it right.  I would sit in the rocking chair and work out plans in my head of where to put what.

It's almost like doing a puzzle. How I can I put things to make them easily accessible when they are needed (and out of Raymond's reach)? And then, when circumstances (ahem, Raymond's ability to reach) change, I actually enjoy going back to it, rethinking it.

I love having things streamlined, ordered, smooth, neat. And quite honestly, I love the process as much as the product.

(Don't get me wrong though, there is still plenty of room for improvement in this apartment; plenty of "clutter spots" that haven't been figured out yet!)

Who would have thought?

My mom, while undoubtedly good at it, is a utilitarian cook. As in, she cooked because she had to. Six kids and all. I really don't remember her complaining much about it. I think it was fulfilling for her (maybe?). She makes some killer lasagna roll ups. And I will always love her chocolate chip cookie recipe best.

But it most definitely wasn't her thing. (Sewing, on the other hand, most definitely was. Is.)

So while I spent my entire growing up helping her make dinner (browning the hamburger was always my favorite job), I never gave much thought to cooking. It never really caught my interest or attention. I had to look at the directions on the box the first time I made macaroni and cheese as an adult, I was that oblivious to the art of cooking.

In college I never had time to cook (hello way too many credit hours and time consuming part-time job. With only my two legs to get me around town).

Single and working (the Blanding year) I had no motivation to cook (oh the sweet nothings I could write about microwaved low fat kettle corn. I bought boxes at a time).

It wasn't until I was married that the need to cook really arose. And to put it frankly, I was more than nervous about the whole proposition. I entered the kitchen with trepidation, uncertainty, and full out intimidation.

But almost three years later, guess what? I actually, whole-heartedly like to cook.

I'll say it again. I like to cook. (!!)

Now don't get me wrong. There are definitely days when I look at Jeremy and say: you are in charge of finding some sort of nourishment for yourself. Days when boxed mac and cheese is about all I can muster up.And days when I am overjoyed to learn that Jeremy has a work meeting at some local restaurant and I am off the hook when it comes to dinner.

But in between those days, I honestly and truly get pleasure out of fixing dinner. Shocking, I know! It is calming (even when one or more of my children are screaming. Ok, not always). But there is some sort of calm creativity involved in the creation of food. It is satisfying to make something wholly from scratch. To adapt and fanegle a recipe to meet our budget, our healthy living goals, our taste preferences. I even, surprisingly, enjoy kneading bread dough by hand (something I've take up since my kitchenaide sputtered and died).

I am so used to the idea of cooking being a chore, that I sometimes have to remind myself that it's ok to enjoy it. And by and large, enjoy it I do!

Who would have thought?

Ode to sleep

Ginny showed all the signs of being a great sleeper as a newborn. Sure she still woke up quite a bit at night, but she was a newborn.  She took long naps. She slept any and everywhere. Very early on she seems to be able to put herself back to sleep with little fuss.

I was a happy mom.

But something happened between now and then. Once upon a time didn't I even write in a blog post that she would sleep from about 7pm to 2am every night?

Where did those nights go, I ask you?

Because somehow this little lady has become the lightest sleeper ever. Ever.

I'm talking, open the door, she wakes up. (Which is a problem considering she's in my bedroom still. With nowhere else to go.)

Most nights this week she's gotten up roughly every two hours (or sooner) from the time she goes to bed to the time she gets up for the day. For a few nights I made her cry it out every other waking, but the crying! The screaming! The duration! I couldn't handle it after a few nights and resumed the unearthly amounts of waking up. Jeremy has been sleeping in a sleeping bag on the living room floor (with ear plugs no less), it's gotten so bad.

And day sleep, if it's possible, is worse. She takes 20 minute naps lately.  Not that that counts as a nap. I jump for joy if she sleeps longer than a half hour. (Without being attached to me, of course. Because probably she would sleep all day long if I let her nurse and sleep. If I didn't have a toddler, that is.)

Anyhow, she really is a very happy baby considering how little she sleeps. (And I think I am actually a very happy mama considering how little I sleep). She laughs and coos and has the most adoring eyes. She delights in sitting up and rolling over. Her cheeks are as soft and chubby as ever.

But, sleep, (oh sleep!) I miss you so. I look forward to your company again someday. Please don't make it too far away.

And YES I have read Happy Sleep Habits, Happy Child by Marc Weissbluth all the way through twice. I let her cry it out for at least five days... and to no avail. I can only handle so much crying when my nerves are raw from so little sleep.

Oh and please do NOT ask me (not matter how well intentioned) if she is getting enough to eat. Nothing  stresses this breatfeeding mama out more.

On reading

This afternoon a friend from a few doors down showed up on my doorstep wanting to borrow a book. She'd never been to my house to know that I have a few bookshelves. We'd never even talked books before. She just had a hunch that this might be a good place to start.

Do my heart good.

I'm sure my eyes lit up with anticipation of sending her home with something good to read.

The past four months or so I have been a reading manic. Since my sewing machine is in the shop (my mom has loaned me an old machine of hers... but it isn't the same), and my alone time is minimal at best, I've found that there's nothing better than a good book these days.

I nurse and read while Raymond explores (and tears apart) the house. Or he reads a book of his own on the couch (seriously darling). We all lay on our bellies on the floor with a book (or toy) at hand. When the babelins are finally sleeping at night, I curl up on the couch and read and read and read.

And so pass the days.

I have always been an avid re-reader. I honestly don't remember what happened in a book just weeks after finishing it. (Contrasting with my dad who will remember minute details years after reading a book).

Most of the books I've read most recently are just ones I've picked up off my own shelves and decided to read again. To Kill a Mockingbird (heavens, how many times have I read that book?). The Emily of New Moon series (borrowed from Sara). The Chronicles of Narnia.

The funny thing is, I am often surprised by things I simply don't remember from a previous reading. Things are familiar and comfortable, but fresh. I love that about a well-loved and oft-read book. They are like old friends whom I haven't seen in a while. Somehow the conversation always is new, but the feeling the same.