Happy Birthday Samuel F. Seminario

Sam turned 1! His birthday was yesterday the 23rd but as it was Easter we had a separate celebration on Saturday, and here I am writing about it subdawn on Monday. So, like a good birthday should, it has spread itself over several days.

As you can see, Sam's a real party animal.

Just after we'd all eaten his cake,

he woke up , threw up his birthday lunch, got washed, and then sat in his diaper on the table opening presents and eating chocolate covered strawberries.

I'm glad he understands my personal creed that no matter how horrible you feel or how tired you are, the party must go on.


I also wanted to post some pictures of Sam's first year. I recognize the great blessing Heavenly Father gave me in allowing me to be Sammy's mom, because every day I get to experience pure, undiluted goodness. Seeing him smile impresses me with the responsibility I have to make sure his joyful soul stays whole and unscathed. My heart is so much bigger because of Samuel. Thank you little Sambo!

Adventures of Mulan and Mulan's Grandma

Rosie is visiting and she took Miranda to Disney Princesses on Ice. Nancy and I dropped them off and WOW obviously Disney knows what they're dealing with which is billions of little girls who own miniature Disney princess outfits and are looking for a venue at which to display them. Nancy even saw a pregnant Mom dressed like Snow White. Of course princess wear should come in maternity sizes. Why didn't I ever realize that before? Why isn't there a Snow White II: Motherhood on the market? I want you to know that I'm resisting typing out a script summary that's forming in my head right now. Yes, I realize that some things are just too much for the readers of this blog.
Miranda wore her Chinese clothes she got from Patrick and XiaoYu and some of the workers said she was the ONLY Mulan they had seen! To avoid creating a situation where Rosie would feel like she had to buy 12 dollar popcorn and the like, I had packed Miranda's bag full of fruit snacks and etc. I told her right before dropping her and Rosie off that if she got hungry, Rosie had food in her bag, so she didn't need to buy any of the food there.
My mother-in-law is ideal in that she considers my directions for my kids law, even when she surely knows that I'm an idiot about many of the decisions I make concerning her descendents. This means she did NOT buy any of the food at the Ice show because I said not to. So, afterwards, Miranda kept telling us that she had wanted cotton candy but Rosie said NO. Rosie felt bad and I felt bad for making Rosie feel bad. Until Sunday.
We were sitting in Sunday School and somehow a discussion of Isaiah resulted in a sweet old lady talking about how her son spent 40 dollars per ticket (which we did not spend and much squinting occurred as a result)at Disney on Ice and then he also bought his daughter a present at the event on top of the 40 dollars and then he ALSO bought her spun sugar (Cotton Candy)!!!! At this point in the story there was a sort of inaudible gasp that swept through the Relief Society room.
Of course feeling the guilt of spending money on such frivolity, we immediately sought reprieve from our conciences. We looked at Rosie and said, "See, you didn't buy the cotton candy!" And we felt much better.

the sample store

We call it the sample store. I love it for the free lunch for all but ESPECIALLY because they have double-wide kid seats in the carts. Simple brilliance, really. THANK YOU COSTCO! (How many times have these words been uttered around the country, I wonder?!)


Of course there's always the negative side. You can't live at Costco. Luckily we all have a good handle on our emotions.

Oh Sam

I love this picture of Samuel because he is generally smiling and this shows a different side of him. The "don't bug me" side. Although I should say that as he nears 1 year old (on Easter) he is developing an expert ability to complain without words. I remind myself here it is a skill to be celebrated and not something to complain about WITH words. Emotional IQ, that's what Fernando calls things like that.

I will write a story here about Sam that it has taken me several weeks to be able to write. Some of the things people say, "You'll laugh about this someday," you actually do have to wait awhile to laugh about.

Miranda had just hopped off the potty when I put her in timeout for some reason or other and sent her to sit on her bed. Usually after she finishes using the potty she goes through an entire postscript of removing the little Dora seat, closing the lid(the bold font should be taken as foreshadowing), flushing (it takes both hands. Don't take flushing with one hand for granted people. Appreciate your strength!), moving her little step stool, and washing her hands (there must be suds or it has not been done properly for Miranda). Well, she must have done something I was seriously set on correcting, even though of course I'm sure it was really important since I can't remember it now, because I sent her STRAIGHT to time out without allowing her to go through that postpotty ritual.

I was deep into defending my thesis in the "time out talk" in her room when I realized...hmmm....I have two children. News flash. Where is Sammy?
I then said aloud, "Where is Sammy?!" and went to the bathroom. Yes, he was playing in Miranda's pee pee and perhaps that would be enough for some people reading this for me to end and have a good story on my hands, and how I wish it were so. But NO.
I took his hands out and picked him up only to snatch a glimpse of something black and silver sunk to the bottom of the latrine.

It was our new digital camera.
AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
All thoughts of germs on my little child and myself evaporated as I plunged my hand in and pulled out the camera by the strap. Near tears and fighting the feeling of sending my innocent little boy to time out as well I rinsed the germs off as gingerly as I could and set about trying to dry the camera. Perhaps I should have paused to celebrate the pace of Sammy's exploit...going to my purse, drawing the most expensive and fragile object to his little mits, and dropping it happily with a sploosh before his mommy had even launched into "What should we do next time, Miranda?" in the neighboring room. What finesse! What dexterity! What creativity! None of these thoughts went through my head as I blow dried the soggy piece of technology.

Of course I removed all the innards, opened all the hatches, and shook and pressed all the moisture out that I could. To no avail. Nothing could coax the on button to affect any function of the camera.

I waited all day to try again. That night the camera turned on, and then zapped off again with a dramatic buzz, just to make a point. The happy ending and the only part of the story which allows me to write about it at this juncture is that the next morning I was sitting at the computer before the kids woke up, sending an email for work, when Fernando stuck his head in and took a picture of me. It took me a minute for the blissful realization to set in, and then I yelped, and fired 20 questions at him about if everything worked. Of course at the beginning he said, "Yes, everything works," but I still had to ask about each specific function. Why did I do that? Perhaps the topic of another post.

So, yes, Sammy, although he brings nothing but joy and happiness to our lives, is still a boy.

obvious

Why a grandma's house is always more beloved than your own house: You get to wear or not wear anything you want, and

For Sammy, or should I say SAMSON, fun activities at grandma's have even included

Even with all my entertainment experience, as a mom I will never compete with EITHER of my kids' grandmas (thank you Rosie for the package this week!). It doesn't hurt one bit because I remember feeling the same way about my grandmas' houses (truth be told I still feel that way about my grandmas' houses). I mean, where else could I have scraped fudge off the road and still served it to people (thanks Grandma Baugh) or splashed uncooked red Jello into every drawer and corner of the kitchen and fridge (thanks Grandma Howell) without negative repercussions? I can only hope that by the time I have a "grandma's house" I've improved significantly in EVERY way.
This video says it all. (Laugher sponsored in part by XiaoYu Belnap.)

even though he's not mexican

Before my brother met Fernando (Patrick was on his mission), he pictured Fernando sounding like the Hispanic general authorities sound, well not the rhetoric but the accent. When we had Fernando talk on a tape after we got engaged and sent it to Patrick, he heard the real Fernando who conjures up no comparisons to Antonio Banderas or Speedy Gonzalez when he speaks (when he does other things, well, of course he's very comparable). Patrick later admitted to being disappointed.
I have also thought it strange that even though I'm married to Fernando I don't get to go Salsa dancing once-a-month. He doesn't even like spicy food. What's up?! None of my preconceived ethnic stereotypes have panned out.
Luckily he has of late produced a talent that (although it is truly and rightfully credited to his father, Fernando Sr., for having and passing down multitudinous artistic abilities) I will attribute to his Latin heritage.

He makes pinatas.
(I can't insert the proper character for the enyay which is the "n" in pinatas so please forgive, por favor.)
And I'm not talking simple patterns or pinatas requiring the minimum amount of creativity and work, no. He is a serious pinatamaker.

I count it irrelevant that he's only made two so far. He is a pinata genius. The first was my family cat Rusty made from a Panetone box (Fernando's favorite Italian Christmas bread). The beauty in this first edition of his fine pinata work was in the details: the fur was small pieces of orange construction paper in strips cut into smaller strips curled a-la-elementary-school with a pen. It took him quite a while and BOY was it worth it. And it was difficult to hit since it was so nice.

His second quest was a whole-body Ratatoullie for Xiao Yu's birthday. He first created a skeleton (yes, I thought he was crazy) out of cut strips of a diaper box from costco, then proceeded to cover it all in newspaper, and actually spray painted the thing with the same stuff that's on our railing in our house. I was very impressed. It's nice that my spouse keeps coming up with random ways of impressing me without even trying. The end of that story is that Xiao Yu refused to break it so it's still in her room with a belly full of air heads which were leftovers from Halloween. (I didn't say that the candy was top-notch, just the craftmanship.)

This video is a bit random but it does give a nice 360 of the pinata and a good view of my son throwing a fit while I look on languidly.

So, until I convince him to quit his job and start a full-scale production online specialty art pinata company, my husband's rare and cultural gifts will only be used to express love to his family and friends on their special days. And they will say thank you by beating the expression of his love with a bat until all the hours of his precious time are busted open to reveal candy that no one wants to eat. Ay carumba.

Shake your booty or Go to your room!

Katie was over for dinner and after dinner Sam pointed at the CD player in the kitchen Fernando got me for Christmas and said some version of one of the words he can say, "Dance." I know, very masculine word for him to say. But he loves dancing.
We turned on something with a beat and Katie and I and Miranda and Sammy were gettin' down in the kitchen. Miranda kept pulling a sassy face and saying, "Shake your poo poo, Shake your poo poo!"
She's been saying poo and poop and versions of the same a little too much for our liking lately. So, I calmly said, "Miranda, say something else, like Shake your booty. That's better. Don't say 'Poo Poo.'"
I'm not sure WHY I thought "shake your booty" was better than "shake your poo poo." I guess I thought it would be an easy transition from poo poo to booty, but I think booty is probably actually worse so I'd better clean up after that one. Anyway, she didn't say anything for a while and we kept boogying.
After a few minutes of dancing, she was really getting into it and having a lot of fun, so she said, "Shake your poo poo!" I repeated, seriously, that she needed to say "Shake your booty" instead. Well, she waited about 6.4 seconds and then started saying, "Shake your poo poo," over and over again. And I just LOVE it when my child deliberately disobeys me, so I was a bit upset.
I stopped dancing (the music was still playing and Sam and Katie still dancing), leaned down to her level and said, in my most serious, you-better-believe-I-mean-it mom voice, "'SHAKE YOUR BOOTY'" OR GO TO YOUR ROOM!"
I waited, stonefaced and still, for her to make the choice to disobey one more time so I could take care of that kind of 2-year-old rebelliousness by a prompt trip to time out, but Miranda just started dancing again, so I thought the problem was over and started dancing again.
Then I heard Katie laughing. I looked over, and said, "What?"
She was laughing hard now, bent over, and looked up and said, "Shake your booty or go to your room?" and raised her eyebrows. I thought of how it sounded. A new Seminario mandate: SHAKE YOUR BOOTY OR GO TO YOUR ROOM. We take dancing very seriously in this family. I started laughing too, so hard. Katie and I laughed over that for 10 more minues, which made for some flimsy dancing. I don't know what it is about siblings that can make you just weak with laughing. So now Katie will look at me at random and say, "Shake your booty, or go to your room." I hope Miranda learned her lesson.