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.

And the verdict is...

I tell you it's been a long school year of law school applications and decisions with a lot of waiting in between. It's been quite the process. Anyhow, it seemed that things just started falling in and out of place this week.

We had our choices narrowed down to Ohio State, The U, and BYU (even though we still haven't heard back from them). Then on Monday we found out that there was no way we could get an increase in student loans at Ohio without lying and saying we were sending our kids or day care. Pretty much it just took Ohio off the list. It was actually sad and surprising to me, as I really thought we would "go away" for school. Not to be, however.

Monday and Tuesday began the serious debate whether to wait it out for BYU or accept the scholarship offer we'd been given at the U. We have until Friday to accept the scholarship (it's actually not much money, but something). Accepting means we make a binding decision to attend their school. We could reject the scholarship and still leave ourselves open to going there, but we would not likely be able to get the money back, or be considered for more money. By accepting the scholarship, we make ourselves available for the second round of scholarship offers and hopefully will get more. But because it's binding, we have to withdraw from every other school we have an open application at (which still included BYU, Ohio, WASHU, Alabama, and Georgia).

Seriously, this has been a stressful few days. After much (MUCH) debate, prayer, study, and deliberation, we have decided to accept the scholarship and go to the University of Utah. Whabam.

This means we have withdrawn our application at BYU and will never know if they would have let us in (I have my doubts). The good news is: we are staying in Utah! And we will be attending a good school (ranked 42nd--equal, actually, with BYU). It has a lot of good clinics and programs, produces a fair amount of clerkships, has good job placement (particularly in Utah, but also outside of Utah). It is in a place neither of us have lived, so will still be somewhat of an adventure, but close enough that we'll still get to see lots of family and friends. And I must say I am thrilled at the prospect of getting to go the Salt Lake Temple regularly.

You know, from the start I told Jeremy we would end up going to a law school that we least expected. That's the way these things usually work, isn't it?

At least for me, that is how I feel like the final decision turned out. While the University of Utah has always been on our list, I never actually thought we would end up there.Being a true blue BYU fan myself, and loving little Provo, I was sure that if we stayed in Utah, it would not be at Utah.

But now that the decision is made, I'm actually really excited about it. And extremely relieved that the decision is finally (FINALLY) made. Hooray!

On things that matter most.

I've come to a couple of realizations in the last week or so:

1. If I don't like something, I should change it (if I can). A few times in the last week I found myself getting edgy about the chaos in the house. So what did I do? I closed my book (ahem) or stopped whatever else I was doing, and started singing the clean-up song! Hello. It was like a revelation. Pathetic, I know. But honestly, sometimes I just let things get under my skin (rock, rock, rock, while thinking about how all the mess bugs me) instead of being proactive and pulling out the vaccuum. No use putting off for later what I can clean right now if I need to!
2. I live for sunshine. Those cloudy overcast days give me the most horrible temptation to drag my feet about life. Therefore (I've redetermined) I cannot live in places that are forever overcast (like the upper northwest). I glory in the sun shinning through my windows!
3. Exercise is essential to my soul. Really and truly. I have been racking my brains out for the last four months trying to figure out how to get more aerobic exercise. In the winter. With two small children. Without a double stroller.  (Anyone want to donate a double stroller to the cause? Just kidding. Kind of). My current solution? Disco music and everything I can remember from the aerobics class I took in college. So far so good!
4. Life for me is plain no good if I'm not getting good scripture study in every single day. I'm more grouchy. I'm more irritable. I'm more down on myself. I was in a really super great scripture reading routine before Ginny was born. It's been a scheduling challenge to get it back to where it needs to be. I'm getting there.
5. And (not a new revelation to be sure) I really hate life decisions. We had really really hoped and planned on knowing where we were going to go to law school by the end of March. It's still looking fuzzy and the deadlines for deposits creep steadily closer! The dart-board method is looking pretty attractive. I almost don't even care anymore. Almost.

And that about sums it up, folks. Today the sun in shinning. I got aerobic endorphins. My house is semi-clean. I've been watching the Young Women Broadcast. And all is well with [my] world.

(And I've been giving my babies exuberant amounts of kisses. Nothing better than a squishy little cheek to make life worth living!)

speaking of redheads

Right as I was about to start typing I was temporarily distracted by the fact that my feet are purple. Does this happen to you? I have extremely poor circulation.

Speaking of blood flow, did you know redheads are bleeders? Neither did I until Valley View Medical Center staff told me so every single time I had to have any sort of blood work done in the last two and half years.Funny thing is, at least in my case, it's true.

Redheads also (supposedly) bruise easily. Also true in my case.

Speaking of redheads, I think general we get a pretty bad wrap. You know, the whole personality-matches-the-hair bit. (I guess blondes have it worse, though. I shouldn't complain.)

Just last week I had a whole conversation with the checker at Wal-Mart about Raymond being a redhead. You know, feisty and fiery. We made small talk about his temper.

And as I walked away, I thought about how I don't agree with what I just off handedly said about my son. That he has a personality to match his hair.

Because while he can throw a pretty good tantrum when he wants to, I don't know a toddler who can't. Redhead or otherwise. I don't really think it has much to do with his hair.

But speaking of Raymond, I must say that boy really does get cuter every day. Today he got a hair in his mouth (ahem, one of my very own red hairs) and came running to me with his tongue hanging out and said (as best he could in that position), "gross!" I laughed.

He seriously says the funniest things  (or maybe they are just funny because of the way they come out of his little boy mouth.) He kept trying to say strawberry tonight.Endearing in every way.

Speaking of strawberries,  I'm pining for summer and walking weather and short sleeves. Last night the wind got up to 50 mph around these parts. I'm serious.

And for a last unrelated note, I have decided that I love to dress "Baby Birginia" in pale pink more than any other color. Even red! It suits her so well. I was sure I wasn't going to be a only-dress-my-baby-girl-in-pink kind of mom. But I purposefully do laundry to recycle my favorite pink outfits faster. Maybe it's because she isn't a redhead. (And the stereotypes continue.)

And there you have it.