More Career Options

The other day, over breakfast, Bentley began explaining to me that he thought Lucky should be a firefighter. I thought this was interesting mostly because Bentley has also decided that Lucky is a girl. I was pleased to see that he has no problems with female firefighters.

Bentley has already decided that he wants to be a policeman when he grows up-- a fitting career, since nothing infuriates him more than other people breaking the rules. He's constantly talking about giving tickets to people who drive too fast and stopping bad guys. (Interestingly enough, he has no problem with himself breaking rules, and is devastated whenever anyone tries to tell him he isn't supposed to be doing something.) Yup, sounds like a cop. Why not have a fireman, too?

Following this conversation, I turned to Kendra and asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up.

She looked out the window for a moment and then answered dreamily, "Um, the moon."

Nice. I like it.

It helps that one of my favorite songs by Gilbert & Sullivan is "The Moon and I" from The Mikado. (If you watch the video, you can probably just skip the first 56 seconds of monologue before it launches into the song; but be sure to notice that actress also plays Moaning Myrtle!)

I'm glad my kids think big.

Basic Healing

Over the last few years, I have found three home remedies that sound really silly, but work well enough to be worth sharing (especially with cold & flu season just around the corner!). So I'm sharing them here. Then I want to know about yours. Is it a deal?


1) Sore Throat: hot jell-o. Yup. Just make instant jell-o like you normally would, but rather than putting it in a container and then into the fridge to set, pour it steaming into a mug and drink up. It coats your throat nicely and tastes way better than cough drops. (I learned this from evil ex-boyfriend. This and his spaghetti carbonara recipe are probably the best things I ever got out of that relationship...)


2) Cuts, Scratches, or Anything that Looks Ugly on Your Skin (yes, including zits): vitamin E oil. Just dab it on with a q-tip. It will heal way faster with less scarring. (This one I got from the Hogan clan-- thanks, Hogans! You've saved my skin on so many occasions since learning this!)


3) Canker Sores: teething gel for babies. Okay, so it might be slightly embarrassing buying it at the store (unless you actually have an infant), but if it works, why not? And it does-- better than any of the medicines we've ever found that are actually designed for canker sores. Try it! You won't regret it! (This one Craig figured out in an act of desperation. Poor guy. But at least now he has something that works!)



So what are your favorite home remedies? And where did you learn them from?

Who Needs Skills When You've Got Friends?

The good news is that I've got my book slings all finished and hung up and everything. The great news is that they look fabulous. (Pictures to follow, once the comforters I ordered that will hopefully look really good with the book slings are delivered. I promise.) I really couldn't be happier with them. The only bad news in all this is that I somehow managed to pull this off without lifting a finger. And I feel slightly guilty about that. But not guilty enough to stop enjoying how much I love the book slings!

I had every intention of forcing myself out of my fear-of-crafts shell. I really did. And I did buy all the stuff I needed (although I did make Craig come along for moral support-- I'm just not good at shopping). And then Jen was so sweet and offered to let me do this at her house with her. That was nice, as I'm a firm believer in safety in numbers. She also suggested we go ahead and sew them, since they'd probably hold up better that way. Jen has a sewing machine and said we'd be able to make it work. And because I hate to leave anyone out of things like this, any person I talked to pretty much got invited to come along.

Which was how we ended up having Nina there, too! And it took about thirty seconds of watching Jen and I ponder aloud how best to cut our fabric before Nina announced that she had actually worked as a seamstress. In fact, she had sewn the costumes used by the BYU-I Ballroom Dance team. Yeah. Just for the record, I did NOT know that when I invited her to come along. Had I known, I would have had some awful inner debate over whether it was better to invite her, knowing full well that I would end up letting her do all the work, or whether I should try to actually do it myself and possibly learn something. But since I didn't know that, no inner debate ever took place, and I did what comes naturally to me. I let Nina do everything.

And she did a great job. Her seams are all really straight, and she even hemmed it for me since I didn't have pinking shears when I cut the fabric. And watching someone sew who actually knows how to use a sewing machine is really fun. I'm so impressed. Some day if I ever have time and money, I want to hire Nina to teach me a few lessons-- nothing complicated, just the basics, like how to thread the needle. If that goes well, I might ask her to show me how to thread the lower needle, too. (But that is admittedly a very big "if.") It's also interesting to me how people who do know how to sew have no concept of just how clueless someone like me is. Every time Nina would do something I didn't know how to do, she'd laugh as if I must be kidding because how can you not know how to thread the needle on a sewing machine??? Trust me, I don't. I wasn't exaggerating. At all.

Anyway. I still don't know how to sew. Nina very graciously offered to show me how right then, but I declined. Too much pressure with not enough warning. (And Jen had already been planning to show me, so I have two really awesome, talented friends right here!)

But I do have two really lovely book slings and the kids are thrilled. And Craig hung them up for me yesterday and everything. (I never had any intention of hanging them myself, so I don't feel as guilty over that. Craig did offer to let me do it, but I just laughed at him. I know he's too much of a perfectionist to risk me putting them up crooked!) So the project is already finished!

And I wasn't lying when I said I didn't lift a finger.

The funny thing is that, as much as I love these slings, what makes me even happier is knowing that I've got all these friends with so many great skills that they're willing to share.

Thanks, Nina and Jen! And Craig! And everyone else for your general encouragement! We should do this more often!

Making Dreams Come True

This is cooler than I can even properly describe. Craig submitted a random email he'd gotten to failblog.org and they're considering using it!!!! I'm so proud of him. (And people thought we'd always be a couple of poor school teachers. Ha! We're showing them!)

Go see it and vote on it so it will make it to the real website! Do it! Now! Right here.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

I don't usually bother with people's birthdays on my blog-- it feels like too much pressure to try and do that each year for every single person who I love. Especially since our birthdays all seem to cluster together, which means every few months, I'd have to write several posts like this in a week or something! But this morning I'm feeling inspired, so here goes anyway.

This is my Mom holding Bentley a few days after he was born, and it's one of my favorite pictures of her:

Bentley, caught mid-stretch, looks pretty goofy, but oh, well...

And this one, obviously, is from my wedding day. I was thrilled when I saw it and realized I have my Mom's same nose! All my life I thought I had my Dad's nose-- which looks fine on him, but seemed a little large for my face. This picture was the Beginning of Acceptance for my nose.

Anyway. Just now I was doing dishes. I can't wash dishes without wearing rubber gloves-- something I learned from my Mom-- and one of mine just ripped, so I found another one to replace it. That's all good, but now the two are mismatched (one blue, one yellow) and different sizes. For some reason, staring at these gloves reminded me of the time I was grocery shopping with my Mom and she needed a new pair of rubber gloves. Looking at the store's selection, I commented that I didn't know the rubber gloves came in different sizes.

"Would you like me to buy you some in your size?" my Mom asked, using her best waitress smile.

But I was too quick for her, "No. Then you'd expect me to do the dishes all the time."

And my Mom grimaced because I had totally caught her at her game. She must not have looked too crestfallen or anything, though, because I mostly just remember feeling really smart right then. My Mom has always been good at making me feel smart.

When I was an awkward teenager who seemed to barely be able to make conversation with my peers-- somehow I'd always end up talking about some weird thing that no one else had ever heard of-- my Mom always assured me that the problem here was that I was just too smart. No one could keep up with how quickly my brain jumped from topic to topic. (Looking back, I think I was just weird and that my tastes were too eclectic for any normal person to have a clue what I was talking about. But my Mom's explanation still made me feel better.)

My Mom has instilled in me a lot of those eclectic tastes, actually. I love to read a good mystery, or any decent novel, for that matter. I love opera. I like Rush Limbaugh and Michael Medved. I'm starting to love Russian history and early British history, all favorites of my Mom. I have more than adopted the snobby standard she set for my sisters and me with music (although it has since broadened out to include literature, too,) when she declared that she would rather we listen to really good classical music than mediocre church music. (Amen, sister!) I can appreciate a cool, grey day as well as a sparkling, sunny one. I still think there's nothing much funnier than Stan Freburg Presents the United States of America.

And more and more, I realize that the way I try to mother my own children is exactly how I remember my Mom taking care of my sisters and me. I don't remember my mom playing on the floor with us much, or doing art projects with us. But I remember her just being there with us all the time and enjoying our company. And that's how I feel about my own kids: I just like being with them. I like them for who they are. I like peering over my book and seeing what games they're playing together. They make me happy.

And of course, I remember occasional bouts of absolute silliness that still make me laugh-- my favorite was the time we were all watching TV in the kitchen while my Mom cleaned up, and suddenly a commercial came on for Cream of Wheat. In the commercial, a crowd of people were all holding boxes of Cream of Wheat high above their heads, shaking them and chanting, "Cream of Wheat! Cream of Wheat!" My Mom just happened to be putting the same thing away and found herself with two boxes in her hands, so she began shaking them and dancing around the kitchen joining in the chant, "Cream of Wheat! Cream of Wheat!" My Mom can be wonderfully goofy sometimes. I hope my own kids will get to see that side of myself as well. Not all the time, mind you-- just when I absolutely can't resist.

This isn't the stuff that Hallmark cards and parenting awards are made of, but I distinctly remember having a very happy childhood, which I appreciate more and more these days. If I can give my own kids a happy childhood, then I'll call myself a success.

Just like I think of my own mother.

Happy birthday, Mom! I love you!!!

Invitation

So after all this positive feedback and a little extra enthusiasm that I'm borrowing from my good friend Jen, we have decided to get together and make those book slings. With a little moral support and someone to point out if I'm doing anything wrong, I think I can totally do this. So here's the question: Do you want to come and join us? We'll do this Monday morning, 9:30 at Jen's house. If you hurry, you should have plenty of time to get your supplies all together. Come to Jen's house and be crafty with us! (This will also be a great chance for Jen to show off her lovely new home, so really, please do come! I mean it!)




*If you don't know where Jen lives, leave a comment and I'll email you her address. Even though this blog is private, it seems sort of obnoxious to give out my friends' personal information over it!

Identity Crisis

I am deeply concerned. There is clearly something very wrong with me.

This morning, when Craig got up, I found myself lying awake thinking about: crafts. This is so beyond not normal for me I can't even begin to explain. The ONLY crafts I have ever done in my life were ones that were forced on me by the Church, either at Girls Camp or else at Homemaking (which then became Enrichment, and now doesn't exactly have a name). And most crafts, once I make them, end up sitting in a closet because even if they turned out okay, I don't usually know what to do with them. (There are a very few exceptions which are deemed worthy to be hung on my walls, but not very many...) It's not that I hate doing crafts, it's that I'm not particularly good at it, and I have absolutely NO imagination to come up with any of this stuff on my own. And I never think to look at blogs that tell me how to do these things. So pretty much the only way I do crafts is when someone shows me exactly what to do, and lets me go to it surrounded by friends with whom I can chat the entire time I'm working. Otherwise, I'd probably just rather read a book.

So what in the world is going on with me this morning? Why was I laying in bed plotting a trip to Michael's and possibly the fabric store? There are a bunch of women in my ward who I blame for this-- Nancy, Andrea, Delilas, Angie, Shalane, Emma, and Lia, to name a few. And Jeni and Laresa, although not in my ward, can share some of the blame, too. These women love nothing more than to pop out some ridiculously complicated item, talk about how simple it was, and then post pictures on their blog to prove how insanely talented they are, leaving people like me wondering what planet they must be from. It also doesn't help that I am currently in the throes of attempting to plan a super Saturday crafting day for these SAME WOMEN, who clearly already know way more about this stuff than I ever will. That's definitely gotten my brain going places it normally wouldn't bother with.

But the real kicker was this awesome book sling that Nancy mentioned on her blog. I originally dismissed it as being way out of my league. But the more I thought about it, the more I really, really wanted one. Two, actually, I want two. One to hang over Bentley's bed, and one to hang over Kendra's. I couldn't stop thinking about how perfect these would be. And so then I showed it to Craig. And when I showed it to him, I realized (how dense am I???) that this didn't even require sewing!!! Which is really good, because I can cut and paste and stamp and stuff like that, but I really cannot sew to save my life. But with this realization, it just seemed possible that I might be able to make this book sling after all.

And I also really want to try and make a Batman cape for Bentley's pajamas (they came with one, but I didn't realize what it was and threw it away. Now I feel guilty for that). (Again, no sewing involved-- just cutting some fabric into a bat-like shape and adding the velcro to the shoulders. That should be easy, right?)

And now I think I may have to try both of these.

What's become of me? Who am I turning into???

In case you missed my facebook update...

...on Friday I was the guest blogger for the Peanut Gallery Speaks! Check me out here!

Camp Songs

I just remembered that I forgot to tell you my favorite story from the camping trip! But, as is often the case with my stories, this one has a whole long back-story that I have to explain for it to make any sense. So here goes.

As a kid, I developed a complete obsession with whales. We're not talking about a simple sort of "Oh, I think whales are cute," thing; we're talking crazy obsession where that was pretty much all I ever thought about. Craig just began to understand this as he watched me sorting through boxes of stuff from my childhood while we were in Seattle. Whale calendars. Notebooks filled with every picture of a whale I ever came across in a magazine or newspaper. Letters written to Sea World asking how I could become a whale trainer some day. Glass figurines. Rubber stamps of whales. Stationery. Clay sculptures I'd made myself. Hundreds of drawings. Reports for school. Every box revealed more about just how much I lived and breathed whales as a kid. For years I planned on being either a marine biologist or a whale trainer (how I ended up as an English/humanities major is sort of a mystery, but that's how life goes sometimes).

One of these boxes contained a can with three bean-bag orcas inside it for juggling. I handed those out to the kids and for a few days, it was Bentley's favorite toy. He and Kendra had also been given killer whale shirts from Grandma Patrice. Yes, I'm hoping they will take up with my passion.

The icing on the cake was our plane from Seattle to Chicago: it was a Shamu airplane. Oh, yeah. The pictures we took of it aren't particularly good, but I'll put them up anyway so you can get the idea:

See? The plane on the left-- it's painted to look like Shamu. And yes, I noticed this from the little bit of paint I could see through the walkway as we stepped onto it. And yes, I was excited.

So, yes, orcas = big deal to me. (They are my favorite whales, along with humpbacks.) And now I'm making them a big deal to my kids, too.

So back to the point of this post, which has to do with our camp-out from a few weeks ago. When I woke up Saturday morning in my tent, Kendra was standing in her pack-n-play singing a song about killer whales. Which meant that I woke up to my sweet little girl, singing a tune that sounded approximately like Haydn's Surprise Symphony (told you I was a humanities major!). Unfortunately, she was so caught up in the singing, that she sort of left off the word "whale," so the lyrics consisted of, "Killer, killer, killer, killer!"

I snuggled into my sleeping bag and wondered if the other people around us (all members of our ward, mind you) could hear this and were worried about us at all...

Our Good Friend Braxton Hicks

Today I read an article on Babycenter.com about *Braxton Hicks contractions. It recommended that if you aren't at 37 weeks yet and have more than four of these in an hour, to go see a doctor. I can only begin to imagine how much my doctor would love me if I called him every time that happened! Okay, okay, so really I've never actually paid enough attention to count how often they're coming. I just know they happen all the time, especially if I do anything strenuous like, say, standing up. Or walking. Trying to walk at the same pace I would walk before I was pregnant really brings them on. Picking up children. You know, the stuff I do all day long.

Just now I had one and Craig happened to put his hand on my tummy to see if he could feel the baby kick. It was classic. He looked slightly bewildered and asked, "Why is your stomach so hard all of a sudden?" Welcome to my world, dear. When I was pregnant with Bentley and would have them, I used to think he was just pushing his head against my stomach. I used to laugh and say, "No, baby, you can't come out there." (Little did I know!) It wasn't until I was pregnant with Kendra that I figured out what was really going on.

Yeah, Braxton Hicks contractions are annoying. But I really can't complain too much. When I was at seven months with Kendra, the doctor checked me and I had already dilated to a three. I remember walking out of the doctor's office feeling like perhaps I needed to walk carefully because apparently I had a big hole in me. I also considered telling my mom to get on a plane right this minute 'cuz this baby might be coming any day now. As it was, Kendra was only a week early, so my initial panic was (mostly) unwarranted. But I do think that her easy labor was due at least in part to the fact that I was a third of the way there before I even began.

So I try to not mind the fake contractions too much. It's just saving me that much work later on, and it doesn't even hurt this time! Best deal ever!

28 weeks down, only 12 to go! (11 if I'm lucky! And we all know this baby is Lucky!)



*Any of you read the Thursday Next series by Jasper Fford and laughed at Thursday's boss named Braxton Hicks? Hilarious!

Camping

Last weekend, we went camping. This has become something of a tradition in our ward-- one of those unofficial activities where more and more families get invited every year. I love that. Some day I hope we can get the whole ward attending. Of the four years this has been happening, this was our third year attending-- we missed the second year it happened because we'd just bought our house and were too busy trying to get it ready to move in. I kind of feel like we're insiders, which is a rare thing for Craig and me, so I think that makes me enjoy it even more!

The funny thing is that I grew up in a strictly non-camping family. I think the closest my mom ever does to camping is staying at a Best Western. So when Craig and I bought a tent shortly after getting married and I proudly announced this news to my sisters, they all reacted in exactly the same way, "Um, we don't camp, Alanna. Remember?" And then I would remind them that maybe they don't camp, but I do. I actually spent a month camping out in the bush in Namibia shortly after my mission. And again, each sister responded exactly the same: "Oh, yeah... You're weird like that."

And I guess I am.

But here's the thing I love about camping: Craig gets to do all the work. (I didn't have it this good in Namibia, since I didn't know Craig back then; Namibia would have been way more fun if he'd been around!) Craig made the foil dinners the night before. He packed up the car. He set up the tent (and even let the kids "help"). He cooked those foil dinners to perfection. Seriously! I didn't even know it was possible to have foil dinners that were cooked all the way through without being burned AND that tasted good. But he did it! And I can usually even get Craig to toast a few marshmallows for me, although this is one task I don't mind doing for myself if I have to. All that work done for me instead of by me? Small price to pay for sleeping on the hard ground for a night!

So yeah, I like camping. Although I will admit that it's more fun when I'm not pregnant and don't have to get up to find the bathroom several times in the night. But even pregnant, I still manage to enjoy myself! So here are a few of my favorite pictures from it all:

I love the smile on Craig's face for this picture. He's in heaven. Notice, I'm just busy documenting. No work here!

Kendra's smile just makes me laugh.

This is a better smile, but it isn't quite as funny...

The next morning, Kendra got grumpy for a bit. I'm not really sure why, but it sure looked funny!

Pretty butterfly that Craig found.

I love this picture of Kendra and me. Nice view, too, huh?

Bentley thought it was too sunny to smile, but Kendra was enjoying herself! Her smile just keeps changing in the next few pictures, so I had to include them all.

Daddy took the kids on a "hike" while Mommy sat in the car and read her book.
Everyone was happy.

On the way home, we had to stop at Burger King for lunch. Good times!

Gotta love paper crowns. Does it get any better?

I'll admit, the long, hot shower when we got home felt really nice. The two hour nap on a soft mattress felt even better.

Salad

I'm going to be a bloggerly coward and write about salad instead of the tragedy that I have been trying to deal with this week. I'm sorry that my blog, for now, has the emotional capacity of a flounder. Perhaps later I can try to remedy this, but not today.

Salad.

The other day, I happened to mention to my sister Leah that I'd bought a watermelon. Watermelon are one of those things that I really like, but they always seem like a lot of work, so I keep telling myself I'll buy one next week, and then suddenly it's the end of the summer and if I want any watermelon at all, I'd better hurry up and buy one right now. So I did. Bentley was really excited by this, although I'm not sure he knows what watermelon is or if he even likes it.

Leah suggested I make watermelon salad, something she and her husband had had at a restaurant and loved and begun making for themselves. It sounded simple enough, so I made it along with dinner tonight. And Leah was right-- it's wonderful! So you should try it, too, before all the watermelons disappear! Sorry this doesn't have precise amounts. That usually drives me nuts because I am someone who has to measure everything exactly to be sure I'm making it right. But even without measurements mine turned out just fine, so I'm sure you can do it, too!


Watermelon Salad
Place bite-sizeish pieces of watermelon on a large plate
Pour small amount of olive oil over watermelon
Grate goat cheese around the sides of the plate (the more the better; goat cheese=small piece of heaven)
Put arugula on top
Sprinkle salt over everything


Enjoy! Even Craig, who was pretty skeptical about the whole thing was pleasantly surprised by how good it was. You'll love it!