So, last night, we had family home evening. We're talking about the articles of faith, and we were on the second one (I know, we just started.): "We believe that man must be punished for their own sins and not for Adam's transgression." The discussion went something like this (after defining "punished" and "transgression" and introducing them to who Adam was):
Mom: Josh, do you think it would be fair if I stole a car and you had to go to jail because of it?
Josh: No
Dad: And Emmett, what if Josh stole a candy? Would it be fair if we took away your bike because he stole it?
Emmett: No
Mom: That's kind of what we're talking about. Adam did something he maybe shouldn't have, and we don't believe that we are punished for it. We believe that we are only punished if we do something bad, not because someone else did something bad.
Josh: So, it's like if Dad took off all the doorknobs and glued all the doors shut, we wouldn't get in trouble for it?
Dad: ...??...
Mom: ...??...
After a ponderous silence: Yes, Josh. That's right. If Dad removed all the doorknobs and glued all the doors shut, we wouldn't get in trouble for it.
Ha! I'm still laughing! Hilarious!! Josh definitely gets the random award of the week!!
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Thursday, September 13, 2012
One month old!
I have noticed that women love to regale the world with our child-bearing/birthing experiences. In fact, I have a friend in Twin Falls whose husband has a theory: get 3+ women of child-bearing age together for more than 15 minutes, and someone at some time will bring up their birthing experience(s). It's totally true! And since I am no exception, I'll just get mine out in the open right here...
It was a dark and stormy night...
Actually, I think it was.
Ryan and I went to see the Bourne Legacy on a Friday. We even got a baby sitter. I was huge pregnant and trying to do anything to go into labor. (At my last OB appointment, I burst into tears because she wouldn't let me have the baby early.) You can imagine my excitement when halfway through the movie, I started timing my regular contractions (10 min-ish), and was getting ready to tell Ryan "it's time, honey!" by the time the movie ended. Well...I got up to walk out, and my contractions ended. Completely. I could have run a marathon (that's set up for huge pregnant women--hmmm. Imagine that.). Since I had already had my heart broken by my unfulfilled pregnant-free expectations (ie, I really hoped I would have the baby) earlier that week (see above comment--the bursting into tears one), my hope was a tentative one anyway. By way of consolation, I told myself that at my doctor's appointment on monday, there was no way she would let me go home because I would be dilated enough to have the baby that day (hey, it happened with Emmett!). So, we skipped home, sent the babysitter away, and went to bed. No contractions on Saturday or Sunday, either. Until.
Sunday night. Not dark and stormy. Just dark.
I was up with contractions for 3-4 hours. Some were 5 minutes apart, some were 15 minutes apart (I should tell you here that since I have a tendency to go fast, my doctor recommended coming into the hospital when the contractions were 10 minutes apart). Again, I was getting ready to wake Ryan up with those age-old words, but decided to make sure I was really in labor by getting up and walking around a little. Contractions stopped. Again. I don't think my heart could have taken any more disappointment. Sigh.
So, when the contractions started again in the morning after I had awoken, I decided to ignore them. I had a doctor's appointment at 2:00pm, and I was pretty sure I would give birth that day. So I decided to just be patient. As Ryan was walking out the door at 8am, I casually mentioned my contractions ("Oooh, that one hurt."), and he stopped and looked at me: "Should we go to the hospital?"
Me: "No, they'll just send me home. Well, okay, if I have another contraction before you leave, then we'll go....Okay, that one hurts, too."
Ryan: "Are you playing solitaire?! Get up, let's go!"
Me: "Okay, I'll just take a shower and pack some things."
Contractions did NOT go away. In fact, they got faster and harder as I moved around. So I made Ryan hurry. He sent the boys to the neighbor, and I tried to breathe while sitting in the passenger seat as we ran red lights, weaved in and out of traffic, and in general broke a few traffic laws (and got pulled over--no ticket, just a slow, deliberate lecture about how speeding doesn't actually get you to where you want to go any faster than following the speed limit. And did I want an ambulance? No, thank you, I think we can make it the block and a half left to go...!). I was in the delivery room for about 45 minutes. The delivery went very quickly and smoothly. I even had time for an epidural. It was a wonderful experience, and like I said, I fell instantly in love with my new baby girl.
However, if Ryan had not stopped to ask if I needed to go to the hospital, I'm 95% sure that I would have had a home birth. Accidentally. Or maybe a car birth. I'm so glad I didn't!
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Aren't I awesome?
Having the boys gone for nearly a month...well, it was hard. I hated having my family split up, even for just a few weeks. But, as they say (I'm pretty sure), "That's how the cookie rolls!" (I love mixing metaphors.)
I missed things like Josh taking me on a tour of the Dinosaur Park in Ogden saying things like "Don't touch that. It's the itchylickitus. It will make you itchy for days." Or "This dinosaur was from 1982" (a very long time ago). I missed knowing where he is emotionally and physically. And knowing that I've got a plan for dealing with his various issues, whatever they are. Same goes for Emmett. Understanding your children, I've found, doesn't come naturally. It takes a lot of time and thinking and effort.
Oh, and Emmett. He's the funniest kid. Seriously, funnyness just comes out of him. When he was a baby and just learning how to walk, he could make people laugh by just stepping 5 steps in a row. That's talent. Lately, he's been discovering his own self-worth, which I find very endearing--and sometimes downright hilarious. Like when he found his toy under the driver's side seat and proudly announced it with an "Aren't I awesome, Mom??"
So, anyway, they were gone FOREVER (= 3 1/2 weeks). I would find myself bursting into uncontrollable, sobbing tears in random places like the garden or the shower or the church's restroom. But I got myself through it, and this is how:
New baby coming = nowhere for toys or playing. So, I
1. Kicked the cats out. (Ahhhhhh...) (It might be a pregnancy thing. Because I didn't dislike them this much last year.) (Arg. Cats. They throw up, and stink, and jump on your lap like it's their property, and tear up carpet, and get their hair all over you when they rub up against your leg...bleh. Lindsay, I love you, but I don't know how you do it.)
2. Cleaned up junk and old furniture and stuff and either donated it or threw it out.
3. Cleaned up old cat carpet. (I probably should have used a face mask for that. My throat was itchy for days.) (Oh yeah, I think I'm allergic to cats, just to throw that in.)
4. Made a plan.
5. Painted cement floor in basement.
6. Put up old fabric to cover insulation.
7. Trip to Lowe's. They cut the long cuts for me on their vertical table saw. (Pretty cool set up.)
8. Built and painted three cabinets/shelving units (Really, this should be about 18 steps, because it took the longest.)
9. Bought $35 couch from DI. It's in pretty good shape.
10. Had Ryan do all the heavy lifting.
11. Oh yeah, built a chalk board out of left over backing and 2x4s. And chalk paint, of course.
12. Imagined curtains (because I haven't put them up yet.)
13. And, of course, transplanted all the toys from the baby's room to the new play room. (That probably deserves more than one step, too.)
Here's the result:
Aren't I awesome?
I missed things like Josh taking me on a tour of the Dinosaur Park in Ogden saying things like "Don't touch that. It's the itchylickitus. It will make you itchy for days." Or "This dinosaur was from 1982" (a very long time ago). I missed knowing where he is emotionally and physically. And knowing that I've got a plan for dealing with his various issues, whatever they are. Same goes for Emmett. Understanding your children, I've found, doesn't come naturally. It takes a lot of time and thinking and effort.
Oh, and Emmett. He's the funniest kid. Seriously, funnyness just comes out of him. When he was a baby and just learning how to walk, he could make people laugh by just stepping 5 steps in a row. That's talent. Lately, he's been discovering his own self-worth, which I find very endearing--and sometimes downright hilarious. Like when he found his toy under the driver's side seat and proudly announced it with an "Aren't I awesome, Mom??"
So, anyway, they were gone FOREVER (= 3 1/2 weeks). I would find myself bursting into uncontrollable, sobbing tears in random places like the garden or the shower or the church's restroom. But I got myself through it, and this is how:
New baby coming = nowhere for toys or playing. So, I
1. Kicked the cats out. (Ahhhhhh...) (It might be a pregnancy thing. Because I didn't dislike them this much last year.) (Arg. Cats. They throw up, and stink, and jump on your lap like it's their property, and tear up carpet, and get their hair all over you when they rub up against your leg...bleh. Lindsay, I love you, but I don't know how you do it.)
2. Cleaned up junk and old furniture and stuff and either donated it or threw it out.
3. Cleaned up old cat carpet. (I probably should have used a face mask for that. My throat was itchy for days.) (Oh yeah, I think I'm allergic to cats, just to throw that in.)
4. Made a plan.
5. Painted cement floor in basement.
6. Put up old fabric to cover insulation.
7. Trip to Lowe's. They cut the long cuts for me on their vertical table saw. (Pretty cool set up.)
8. Built and painted three cabinets/shelving units (Really, this should be about 18 steps, because it took the longest.)
9. Bought $35 couch from DI. It's in pretty good shape.
10. Had Ryan do all the heavy lifting.
11. Oh yeah, built a chalk board out of left over backing and 2x4s. And chalk paint, of course.
12. Imagined curtains (because I haven't put them up yet.)
13. And, of course, transplanted all the toys from the baby's room to the new play room. (That probably deserves more than one step, too.)
Here's the result:
Aren't I awesome?
Monday, May 7, 2012
Monsters
It's been a while...
Let me catch you up:
December wasn't so good. I was sick for all of it and January, too. Before you ask, yes, I'm pregnant. But then, morning sickness doesn't last six months, so... I really don't have much of an excuse for not blogging (journaling) regularly except that my soul was so starved for sunlight and exercise this winter that I feel like I'm recovering from a massive trauma.
But things are looking up, except that whenever the weather is not so good, I sort of suffer from PTSD and relapse. Luckily, the nice days have outnumbered the bad, hence, I'm alive a little bit more than I was a month ago.
So, onto life:
Last night Ryan and the boys and I drove home from Twin Falls where my dad officially celebrated a long and successful career as a dentist. I could write a whole blog on how his work ethic has affected my life, but I'll save that for another day (in six months???). Getting the boys to bed was a top priority for Ryan and I after hearing two hours of teasing, yelling, and in general, 4 and 5 year old rebelliousness rearing its head. So, I summoned every ounce of patience I had left (after sternly lecturing the boys on "listening the first time"), read stories, tucked them in and ran out the bedroom door to the bath tub. (Ryan was running a quick errand at the time, so I had the whole quiet house to myself.) As I stripped down and put in bath salts, I heard a couple of small voices outside my bathroom door saying "Mom, we had nightmeers." (I think it's cute that they mispronounce some words.) It had been literally 4 minutes since I left their room, so I knew their "nightmeers" were fabrications. But, like the good mom I am, I gave them hugs and put them back to bed. (Okay, maybe I didn't hug them.) Then, just as in the past, whenever I'm frustrated and at the end of my rope with the boys, they do something that makes me laugh and wonder how I'd ever get along without them. Josh starts twitching and saying "owowow" and groans, "Mom, I'm having another nightmeer." Totally confused now, I ask him, "What is a nightmeer?" He replies, "You know, when the full moon is out and it makes us turn into a monster!"
Yes, indeed, they are monsters. But funny ones.
Let me catch you up:
December wasn't so good. I was sick for all of it and January, too. Before you ask, yes, I'm pregnant. But then, morning sickness doesn't last six months, so... I really don't have much of an excuse for not blogging (journaling) regularly except that my soul was so starved for sunlight and exercise this winter that I feel like I'm recovering from a massive trauma.
But things are looking up, except that whenever the weather is not so good, I sort of suffer from PTSD and relapse. Luckily, the nice days have outnumbered the bad, hence, I'm alive a little bit more than I was a month ago.
So, onto life:
Last night Ryan and the boys and I drove home from Twin Falls where my dad officially celebrated a long and successful career as a dentist. I could write a whole blog on how his work ethic has affected my life, but I'll save that for another day (in six months???). Getting the boys to bed was a top priority for Ryan and I after hearing two hours of teasing, yelling, and in general, 4 and 5 year old rebelliousness rearing its head. So, I summoned every ounce of patience I had left (after sternly lecturing the boys on "listening the first time"), read stories, tucked them in and ran out the bedroom door to the bath tub. (Ryan was running a quick errand at the time, so I had the whole quiet house to myself.) As I stripped down and put in bath salts, I heard a couple of small voices outside my bathroom door saying "Mom, we had nightmeers." (I think it's cute that they mispronounce some words.) It had been literally 4 minutes since I left their room, so I knew their "nightmeers" were fabrications. But, like the good mom I am, I gave them hugs and put them back to bed. (Okay, maybe I didn't hug them.) Then, just as in the past, whenever I'm frustrated and at the end of my rope with the boys, they do something that makes me laugh and wonder how I'd ever get along without them. Josh starts twitching and saying "owowow" and groans, "Mom, I'm having another nightmeer." Totally confused now, I ask him, "What is a nightmeer?" He replies, "You know, when the full moon is out and it makes us turn into a monster!"
Yes, indeed, they are monsters. But funny ones.
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