ramblings of a possible lunatic

These are not the lunatics. Okay, maybe a little. I love this picture.

I was just thinking someone should do a study on what your blog background says about your current mental state or personality or something. I'd be interested since I'm feeling conflicted about what to do with ours.

I've finally finished grades. I know, procrastination. I feel like I'm a perpetual student because I always have these deadlines at the end of the semester and I procrastinate them. SO to those of you whose nightmares involve never graduating or something, I can understand that. Although I do love being on a school schedule. You can't beat it. I think that's one secret to why people stay in education even though they are totally equipped to make billions in other industries. Take it from me. Heh.

My procrastination ended up being an even worse factor this year because, of course, the kids got sick right at the same time. I'm talking the kind of sick that had me doing laundry like 7 times a day. Poor Sammy had the worst of it, because he has a more sensitive stomach--has always "lost it" easier than Miranda--and because his gave him more diaper trouble too. In fact, he was having a little trouble the other day and was leaning against my leg as I was typing at the computer, and I felt this serenity and stillness, and looked down...HE WAS SLEEPING STANDING UP, barely perched against my leg. Oh man. I have never seen the likes. Poor kid.

Plus Miranda prayed immediately after throwing up the first time (even before she let the goop be washed out of her hair) that she would not throw up again. And she has faith. So the first time was the last time and she's fared pretty well in all of this yuckiness.

The house felt like quicksand for a few days there, but people seem to be doing better now and we are going to claw our way out today and enjoy the sun and fresh air. And obviously I'm posting a new blog post so that's a good sign.

In less emerging-out-of-the-abyss news:
Just wanted to give a little shout out to my Bro and Sis-in-law who had their baby last week and gave our kids their FIRST COUSIN and made me and Fernie AUNT and UNCLE for the first time. YEAH! awwww isn't he soooooooo cute?!

Unintentional Advice on Parenting: from the PARENTED

This morning Miranda wanted to play "The Grinch." Sammy recently chose a stuffed toy Grinch for fifty cents as one of his purchases at our Church's Young Women's Group Humanitarian Fundraiser Yard Sale (probably had a shorter name, also really well done), so I think she noticed the toy again today and that sparked her decision.

She played young Martha May Who, the Grinch's love interest in elementary school and beyond, and I, of course, played:



The role comes naturally to me.

Sam wasn't really involved, but he was likely cast--happily--as Max the dog. Another naturally fitting role.

She kept the Grinch game going as we drove around doing errands. She likes to add drama to otherwise sufficiently dramatic stories so she wanted me, as the Grinch, to talk about my feelings about my treatment by the other Who's, my feelings that I was too ugly to warrant her affections, and my disdain towards Christmas.

I lamented in my Grinchy way that I didn't understand Christmas, that it was all about stuff and presents and decorations and I didn't like all that. Martha May paused, thinking intently about how to teach me about the true meaning of Christmas.

"Mommy," she said as an aside to the dialogue, "This is the Grinch 2, where Martha May knows about Jesus."

The Grinch 2...perfect. This would allow Martha May to give me, the Grinch, a spiritual insight and thus change me to the nice Grinch (which is, I think, the true meaning of the Grinch story...that the love of Christ or charity enters into his heart and makes it grow...alas, I wax philosophical...you can't fool me with your fanciful language and innocent rhymes, Dr. Seuss).

Anyway.

Miranda added, as an aside, "Because in most movies they don't really care about Jesus."


I got the message. Media isn't just influencing the young (and the rest of us) through what's there, but through what's missing. Any 3 year old can tell you that.

Emergency Training

Fernando: Miranda, okay. What would you do if Mommy fell down and her eyes were closed and she seemed like she was asleep, and you couldn't wake her up?

Miranda: Uh...let her sleep.

Fernando: No, what would you do if you thought she might be sick or something?

Miranda, getting it: OH! Call 1-9-9



I'm in good hands.

BatSam Begins

I think any only boy with a sister or sisters probably learns some invaluable lessons from the experience, like how to locate the key information in a too-detailed story; that the female ability to predict how long something will take or to define what on-time means can be different than the male version; and how what you say to a girl might be interpreted differently by her than how you meant it or how it would be interpreted by a guy: "What happened to your hair?" for example. Or the response: "Nothing." This discrepancy has led my husband to the phrase: "I actually mean what I say."

I think my brother learned some valuable things from being the only boy among Katie and I. He learned how to sense and avoid drama pre-episode, how to endure tedious and probably embarassing theater, music and dance performances, and he learned the pleasure of scaring a girl really, really bad. I hope he realizes the debt he owes us.

I fully expect that Sammy, whether he gets brothers in the future or nay, will be able to trace countless benefits to the fact that he was born closely after Miranda, whom you can find by googling the term "girly girl." Okay not really but you get the idea.
But I should note that he's also experienced some drawbacks associated therewith.

One of these is "lack of boy dress-ups coupled with an overabundance of girl dress-ups." Owing to the generosity of relatives and friends sensing Miranda's propensity for drama (not difficult to detect, I might add), we have two drawers plus a couple of fancy hanging pieces of sparkly, floofy, high-heeled, accessory laden, feminine dress-ups.
I must acknowledge here the recent donation by our Stake President's wonderful daughters: gorgeous Mulan, Snow White, and Cinderella hand-me-down dress-ups. The Cinderella dress even doubles as Christine's dress when Miranda is playing Phantom of the Opera. (Fernando made a Phantom mask from half a white paper plate. The sheer genius.)

And although she sometimes comes up with less-princessy combos like this,

Sammy has been left scrounging amongst the dress-ups for unisex hats, scarves...heels...
And we love our son. So for his birthday his Daddy and I got him...

the 10 dollar Batman costume from Walmart. The pants and sleeves had to be hemmed and the mask is a bit big and droopy, and we didn't buy the more expensive version with the puffy muscles (puhleeze people...fake muscles with the genes he's inherited? Scoff!). But he LOVES it. And when he's not wearing the mask he puts it on the front of his playskool car as a hood ornament and we have "The Batmobile." That's ingenuity the likes of the real Batman, I'd say.

And he's never even seen Batman. That's how much he was longing for boy dress-ups.
Way to assert your manhood, son.

tell it like it is

This is Miranda (and Sam, in a cameo) in front of the library. I picked out her clothes (she would NEVER pick out jeans--too stiff) but let her dress herself. So as you can see I am a very trusting mother because she has her pants on backwards. Yeah. And this is as we are LEAVING the library after a length of her prancing about that way. So I guess I need to up my game when it comes to protecting my kids from embarrassment.

But she got me back. And at the Library...sweet irony.

We went to storytime at the library, and all the kids were seated in the middle of the room raptly absorbing pictures and words. The moms were all seated in chairs around the periphery of the room observing in auto-pilot mode.

The storyteller introduced a new book:


"This book is about a bird who was grumpy," the storyteller said. "Do you know what grumpy means?"

Silence. One little girl said, "angry!" Another yelled, "mad!"

"Yes..." the storyteller replied, "when people are acting that way or when they are in a bad mood or seem upset, that's called 'grumpy.' Have any of you ever been grumpy?"

All the little pinky cheeked perfect little angels shook their heads no in silent assurance that they had never behaved in such an abhorrent manner. Miranda broke the silence:

"My MOM has."

Laugher from all the mom's and fiery blushing from me.

The mom next to me said, "Someone's been tattled on!"

"It's me," I fessed. "And sadly, it's true."

So, I am sorry to say I am sometimes grumpy. But at least we're working through it in the group therapy session called "Library Storytime."

St. Patty's Day Belated

We're a little Irish, you know. Well, some of us are. The non-Fernando portions.

And although he supports our Irishness, Fernando was at a Scout meeting. So we went with Pa and KT to the SLC St. Patty's Day parade, like we usually do. It may have been the longest parade known to leprechauns. But we're a little Irish, so we stayed, clad in our green finery, for most of it.

We loved the dogs most of all. We loved candy being thrown to us, and we loved the dogs, and we loved a little girl driving a green coffin like a car down the road. Those were the highlights. Miranda said she loved the "Potato Ladies" which were scantily clad and majorly stuffed ladies, older ladies, dancing atop a float, so maybe I should be worried. But we're a little Irish, so what can I expect?

SAMUEL IS 2!

Today SAM the MAN is 2!
We love your crazy tackling energy and war cries.
We love your cuddles and pretend baby talk.
We love your sense of humor.
We love the phrases you say over and over again.
We love your faces.
We love your empathy.
We love your forgiveness.
We love your calmness.
We love your smile.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the PERFECT little kid for our family!