What is he trying to tell us?

Lately I'm beginning to think Little Dude is secretly a Muslim. He keeps saying "Allah" and "halal".

Then this afternoon it sounded like he was chanting "A Jew, A Jew".

Hmm...

Happy Valentine's Day to Me?

This is another post about my health problems, so if you don't want to know, stop reading now.


I just got off the phone with the nice receptionist at the outpatient surgery clinic and I have an appointment to see a surgeon on Thursday. The good news is, there is one procedure that they may be able to do right then that will solve the problem without cutting. The bad news is, from what research I've done I don't think it's the right thing and that I probably still have to have surgery on my bum. I really don't want to have surgery on my bottom, but if it will clear up the problem, I guess I can deal with it. They don't have any openings for operations until at least February 13th or 14th, which means I have would to wait two weeks. I secretly hope that I'll get there on Thursday and he'll decide that I shouldn't wait that long and do something about it now. (Oh, we realized the other night that we still had a few days to add me to Master Fob's student insurance. Not the cheapest solution, but it works out best in the long run, especially since coverage started January 1). I went back in to Urgent Care on Sunday morning because I developed bleeding, and they told me to come back if that happened. After nearly three hours, they sent me home again with a referral for surgery and a prescription for super, mega-strength cortisone cream. The pain is actually nearly gone, unless I touch it or I have to go to the bathroom. The thing that scares me is that I've been bleeding since Saturday and it hasn't stopped. It's not a lot, but it's definitely something not normal and very disturbing. I've been trying to take it easy, but that's pretty difficult with my life right now. I don't want to wait two more weeks while avoiding standing, lifting, and pooping. That's just impossible. So far 2007 is not doing a very good job of outdoing 2006 for stress and trauma.

Eight Months

I've been trying to write a little bit about each month of Little Dude's life, so that someday I will have some sort of record of his first year or so. I probably won't get around to doing a scrapbook or anything like it until he's at least in college, so this will have to do for now. Little Dude's eighth month has not seen any major milestones, but he is slowly growing and maturing. He can now sit up quite well, but rarely does it because he would rather be scooting across the floor on his tummy. He continues to ignore his toys in favor of electrical cords, books, and stale cheerios from under the table. He is almost crawling and will often get up on his hands and knees, but then decides that it's faster to just drag himself around by his elbows. Little Dude also started eating Cheerios this month; his pincer grasp isn't very well developed, so he just mashes hand fulls of them into his mouth and manages to get one or two of them in (the rest end up in his clothes, on the floor, in his seat, etc...). Also, if anyone tells you that babies "can't choke on Cheerios", they don't know Little Dude. So far it hasn't been serious, but he's scared me a few times by forgetting to properly mash them up in his mouth before attempting to swallow. I'm a little nervous to give him any other finger foods to try just yet. He still loves to babble, especially when we are already talking (or singing, like in this video). Little Dude has a bit of a shy side and takes some time to warm up to new people. This has been a little new for me, since S-Boogie wasn't ever like that as a baby. Once he warms up though, he has a great little smile and the sweetest little laugh. I'm happy he's our "Dr. Jiggle" and he's been a lot of fun to have around this month.

To Blog or Not to Blog

I haven't posted for most of this week, but not because I haven't had anything going on. Unfortunately, I've had a lot of things going--mostly rather personal health issues. I've been debating whether or not to blog about them. Then I remembered that I spent most of my pregnancy last year whining about being constipated and having hemorrhoids. It's been a while since those days, so I guess it's time for a little trip down memory lane. My parents are in town for a few days, so on Wednesday evening we decided to head down to a nearby wetlands area for a sunset nature walk. It was beautiful: we saw an eagle, Mt. Ranier in the sunset, a heron, and lots of Canada geese. As sometimes happens after a lengthy walk, my bottom was feeling sore when we got home. Only this time it got progressively worse. I won't even describe what's going on down there, but it's really not pretty. According to the internet I should have a doctor take a look at what's going on to make sure permanent damage is not occurring. The only flaw in that plan is that I don't currently have health insurance. According the bureaucrats at the state health department, my application is still not complete even after five weeks of waiting. This morning I decided that the pain was too intense and I went in to see urgent care at the hospital. After two-and-a-half hours of waiting, a very nice female resident came in, looked at my "bottom area" (as she kept calling it), and informed me that I really should consider surgery. Thankfully it's not bad enough right now that I need to pay for emergency butt surgery out of pocket. But it's getting to the point where I not only have to go to the butt doctor, but I'm going to have to have him take a knife to my bottom. I just hope my insurance comes through soon and that my current inflammation subsides a bit before then.

The moral of this story is to eat plenty of fiber, drink lots of water, and make sure you have good health insurance. Oh, and I think that pictures of fourth-degree prolapsed hemorrhoids would make good pregnancy prevention tools.

Thoughts from the Mall

If Abercrombie and Fitch is trying to sell clothes, why aren't the models wearing any?

Even though I think seasonal dishes are a frivolous waste of my money, I really like these ones from Pottery Barn. Especially the rick rack design on the glasses. I'm a sucker for Valentine's Day.

If I had money to spend on clothes, I'd probably buy some from Eddie Bauer. I really like their clothes. Does that mean I'm a geek? Or just a fifty-year-old woman who likes gardening and boating?

I also like the clothes from Anthropologie, but I can't imagine myself ever wearing them.

Williams Sonoma had a display of Moroccan spices and tagines, and I missed my sister. And I felt a little jealous of the fact that she lives in a place less dominated by commercial interests. But I have clean running water, so I guess I'll be happy where I'm at.

I really can resist the smell of warm, freshly-baked pastries. Especially when I leave my wallet at home.

I enjoy window shopping at the mall most when it's still closed and no one is there.

So Much Trouble in the World

28 And it came to pass that the God of heaven looked upon the residue of the people, and he wept; and Enoch bore record of it, saying: How is it that the heavens weep, and shed forth their tears as the rain upon the mountains?
29 And Enoch said unto the Lord: How is it that thou canst weep, seeing thou art holy, and from all eternity to all eternity?

32 The Lord said unto Enoch: Behold these thy brethren; they are the workmanship of mine own hands, and I gave unto them their knowledge, in the day I created them; and in the Garden of Eden, gave I unto man his agency;
33 And unto thy brethren have I said, and also given commandment, that they should love one another, and that they should choose me, their Father; but behold, they are without affection, and they hate their own blood;

--Moses 7

This is one of my favorite passages of scripture; I love the image of God weeping in heartbreak as he watches His children. LDS theology has some distinct views on the nature of God and the nature of good and evil. A central problem in philosophy is the origin of good and evil; if God created everything, then did he create evil? I don't have all the answers, but I feel most comfort with the idea that evil and good are eternal problems that existed before God and will continue to exist forever. God is bound by eternal laws that are greater than He is; who created these laws, I don't know. More mysteries upon mysteries. I also believe that we are both spirit and body and that one of the main purposes of this life is to test our spirits and help them grow. God has given us agency, which is not just the freedom to choose, but the power to act and to be held responsible for our actions. I also believe that someday we will be judged for our actions, but not in any sort of judgement of the type that we know here on earth. Our goal here is to spiritually mature, not just accumulate righteous actions or to somehow earn celestial points or something like that. God repeats throughout the scriptures that we are supposed to become something different.

So, we know the cliche about how this life is a test. That would explain all the pain and suffering in the world, right? We often hear talk about how the Book of Mormon was prophetically "written for our time". I've realized more and more that the situations in it too often reflect what we find in our contemporary society: racial prejudice, a society constantly involved in war, struggles by religious leaders to truly guide the people, poverty and wealth juxtaposed in a single society, etc. I read in Alma about a group of Christian women and children who were burned alive in front of their husbands and fathers. When the missionaries who had taught this group cried out to God in horror, his answer was to let the killing continue. God allowed innocents to die in order to truly prove the depravity of their killers. According to the Book of Mormon, God allows evil as the ultimate test of His people. How can we tell the depths of evil that a person can find if he is not allowed the freedom to choose? And if innocent people are hurt and killed, we believe that their spirits will be saved and they will have passed their test valiantly.

This sounds rather glib, and the truth is that it is a pat answer. It is easy to figure out the equation that freedom to act now will bring eternal consequences. The hardest part is figuring out what to do about life here on Earth, where pain and suffering surround us every day. I think for many people their test during this life is physical; they are born into poverty, war, slavery, etc. But at the same time, I realize that I am being tested too. I will probably never have to endure civil war, sexual slavery, displacement, torture, or any of those things. Given my education level, mental health and family support, I probably won't even be homeless or jobless at any point in my life. I think the true test for many of us is what we do when we are faced with the suffering of others. What is my reaction when I see movies like Hotel Rwanda, The Constant Gardener, or Schindler's List or read books like A Problem From Hell? Do I calmly keep eating my popcorn? Do I cry during the credits and then go write a post like this one about my guilt? Do I sell my stuff and move to Africa? Do I donate extra money to the "right causes"? Do I put all my stuff in storage and join the Peace Corps? (Go Skye!) The truth is, I don't know what I can or should do. But I do know that I want to do something. If I believe that my test here on Earth is to refine my spirit to become like God, then I must do something. I can't kill off all the wicked people with a flood. I can't change centuries of corruption and exploitation that pervade human history. I'm fully aware that there are many problems that increased foreign aid and even international intervention cannot fix.

And here is where I always get stuck. What to do besides watch movies and read books about the suffering of others, while I am surrounded by my nice warm house, my healthy children and my plentiful food. And I know that there is plenty of suffering to go around, even right here in my own neighborhood. Homeless people freeze to death down the street from me and I saw a woman on craigslist selling her children's things so she can pay her rent. I barely have enough money to pay my own rent most months. I'm still trying to figure out how to truly become like God. I live simply and help others when the opportunity crosses my way. I occasionally try and seek out those opportunities. But most of the time I just end up feeling frustrated that I cannot do more. I really do want to be like God; most days, I just hope that "shedding forth [my] tears as the rain upon the mountains" is a step in the right direction.

That thing with feathers

First of all, thank you to everyone who has commented or emailed or called to lend me support. I appreciate knowing that people care; I did keep my appointment today. Actually, Master Fob and I decided to go in as a couple and do mostly couple work initially. I think it was a good choice for us. The counselor noted (fairly acccurately, I think) that many of my stresses and anxieties have built up due to my inability to talk about my emotions and needs with anyone. And Master Fob and I have several major issues that we have been avoiding for a while. The other day I was messing around on the internet and ran into a post on "Feminist Mormon Housewives" that was called "renavigating your marriage". I really liked it; it was specifically about the adjustments made as spouses wax or wane in their commitment to the church, and generally about how marriages call for a lot of adjusting over time. I think it wasn't just coincidence that I clicked on that post just a few days ago and have had time to think about it a lot before this morning. Hopefully over the next few months we can make some progress and move on to a better phase in our lives. This is going to take a lot of emotional work both from me and from both of us. I don't know if I'll blog about it much, since even though I appear to be fairly open about my life, I'll be making a lot of changes and exploring a lot of things that I don't want to make part of the permanent, public record. I think I'll start writing in my journal again, since I haven't done that for a few years (and then I'll burn it).

So, I didn't die and Little Dude had a great time at the babysitter's. He only cried for a few minutes and he managed to take a fairly lengthy nap for her (she has a quiet bedroom that is on a different floor from the playing children--what a luxury). Master Fob and I both like the counselor a lot and feel comfortable with him. Tonight I feel happier, more confident, and in general "lighter". This evening a friend called and needed my help on a dark day of her own. I was glad that I was in a position to help, and I felt honored to be needed by someone. I think it was also a confirmation to me that I will only be able to serve others after taking care of my own needs. I've been trying to avoid doing both of those things for too long. I think we're going down a good path here; I hope we can stay on it and that it leads to somewhere better than where I've been at for a while.

Has anyone seen my motivation?

It seems to have slipped out the back door when I wasn't looking. This morning I turned off my alarm instead of going out walking. Also, I've now managed to blow two "no treat days" in a row this week. Yesterday someone offered me a brownie and I scarfed it down without thinking twice. About an hour later I realized that I was supposed to be saying "no" to treats all day. Then tonight S-Boogie and I had dinner from Jack in the Box. I'm not sure if it counts or not, though, because it wasn't a pleasant experience. I only do fast food once every few months, and each time I remember why I hate it so much. Tonight I was supposed to meet a lady after she got off work in order to buy a baby bunting she was selling on craigslist. It's a pretty nice thick bunting from REI, so it should keep Little Dude warm for the rest of the winter. After picking up the bunting, I realized that we were only a few blocks away from Jack in the Box and that we didn't have any leftovers waiting at home for us. So I decided to go through the drive through to get us dinner. My first mistake was forgetting that going around the block to get to the restaurant would take an insanely long time due to the wacky one way streets and the evening traffic. By the time we reached the drive through Little Dude was shrieking inconsolably. Then I had to order from the menu. One of the reasons why I hate fast food is that I'm terrible at making quick decisions under pressure. I haven't eaten at Jack in the Box since sometime in the mid-1990s, so I have no idea what's on their menu. Plus I only had eight dollars on me, and I quickly realized that it wasn't going to go very far. I got S-Boogie a kids meal and ordered myself a shake. The screen was adding up the total for me, and I realized that I had less than two dollars to get myself something to eat. Cars were lining up behind me while I scanned the dollar menu. I decided on the two tacos for a dollar deal, since I know several people who are big fans of Jack in the Box tacos. Then I got to wait an insanely long time at the window while Little Dude wailed and S-Boogie shouted "Drive the car, mom" over and over again. And then on the way home we got kind of lost because I forgot about the stupid intersection where you aren't supposed to turn left for some unknown reason. By the time we got home Little Dude had fallen asleep, but was still gasping and hiccuping with sorrow. I hope no one I know was in our parking lot and heard me shriek "dammit" when I realized that S-Boogie had taken off her shoes and socks and had locked her door from the inside. I also hope that S-Boogie doesn't pick up that particular word from her frazzled mommy. So we eventually got inside, where I discovered that S-Boogie's kid meal didn't come with any sort of toy. Luckily she didn't care, since the novelty of curly fries was amusement enough for her. Then I opened up my tacos. I think they surpass the grossness that was the Thai food we tried from the Seattle Center food court on Monday. Picture a tough and greasy corn tortilla sealed around pasty meat (it felt like refried beans but tasted vaguely like beef), a few limp strands of warm lettuce, and violently spicy hot sauce. Are all Jack in the Box tacos this bad, or did I hit them on an off night? I choked both tacos down with the help of my Oreo shake (at least that was tasty) and then finished off S-Boogie's untouched chicken nuggets. Add that to my fish stick lunch and my grease quotient for the day is more than filled.

The truth is, I think I've been off kilter all week because we have an appointment to see a counselor on Friday. I'm dying from the stress already, and each day closer to Friday it gets worse. Part of it is the stress of arranging for someone to watch our kids. Thankfully we can shift S-Boogie's school schedule around, and I found a good friend to watch Little Dude. I'm worried about him, because lately he's had major stranger issues and will freak out when anyone besides me or Master Fob holds him. I worry that he's going to sob uncontrollably the entire time we're gone, and that makes it even harder to resist picking up the phone and chickening out on my appointment. I don't think Master Fob is going to come every time, but the counselor wants us to both come in for the first appointment. I'm feeling really freaked out because I majorly stress about discussing my problems and feelings with anyone. But this is why I'm going in--because for too long all my frustrations and stresses have been stuffed inside and they're leaking out way too often these days. I just hope I can keep myself together until Friday. It's a good thing I don't have TV right now, because all I want to do is curl up on the couch with a big bowl of Golden Grahams and vegetate. Since that's the best way to get my motivation back, after all.

Making a new pie

Today in Relief Society our lesson was on the plan of salvation and the purpose of life. Our bishop's wife taught it, and she did a wonderful job. She's a smart, confident woman with a lot to share. We were talking about the purpose of life and what we're supposed to do here on earth, when she told a little story about something that had happened to her years ago. She had started the tradition of making a special mincemeat pie for an older gentleman in their ward for Christmas each year. One year she had the pie all warm and ready and placed it on top of her car for a moment while she unlocked the door. As she did that, the pie slid off and shattered all over the garage. She says that she stood there stunned for a minute and thought about what to do. She could go buy a new pie, or even just call her friend and explain what had happened and hope he understood. Instead, she cleaned up the mess and went inside to make a new pie. When she took it to her friend he was overjoyed and thanked her profusely for her kindness. Even more importantly, she said, she felt a deep sense of joy and satisfaction at having done something hard. The first pie hadn't been much of a sacrifice, but the second one was.

For some reason today, this simple story hit me hard. Maybe it means nothing to some of you, but I like to bake. It takes a lot of time and effort to make a good pie. I could just picture standing there with pie shattered all over the garage. I'd probably scream and kick the car and spend all day being mad about it. Or I'd sulkily make the new pie and hope my friend knew what kind of effort it took to make. Maybe she did sulk about it for a while. She didn't say. I realized today that for too long I've been sitting around staring at parts of my life that are shattered like that pie. Staring at the pieces and getting mad about them isn't going to put them back together. It's time to sweep up the garage and get back in the house and try and find a new recipe that will work with the ingredients I have left. It may be hard, but life is hard. I need to stop hiding from the hard things in my life and turn them into something good.

All the Boys I've Loved Before--Part 2

I was excited to start college my freshman year at BYU, but also a little nervous because I had been warned by a number of people that I would be plagued by RM's who would want to marry me before my first semester had even ended. In a small way, this also excited me because I had precious little experience as the object of male affection and looked forward to a change in my dating life. Unfortunately, I was the only one of the six girls in my dorm room who ended the year with virgin lips. And I kept those virgin lips until shortly after my twenty-third birthday. But that doesn't mean I didn't have a few crushes along the way.

My biggest crush my freshman year was on a fellow teammate from College Bowl. Not the famous one, and not just the other freshman guy who sort of dated me. That was a crush too, but it's not quite the same because we actually did go on a few dates, talked on the phone a lot, and even snuggled in the BYU van on the overnight drive to Berkeley. No, the other guy I had a crush on was an RM and worked at the library. He had served a Spanish-speaking mission, so I asked him if he could be my conversation partner for my Spanish 102 class. We would get together in the Maeser building before College Bowl practice and go over the inane exercises in my copy of Hablame!. I don't know if he knew I had a crush on him or not, but he was nice enough to humor me. I also have a lot of respect for him because he accepted an invitation to go to Preference with me, and ended up in a big group date that consisted entirely of freshmen (besides him). By the summertime my crush on him had faded and I still don't know what happened to him. He probably has three or four kids by now.

I spent my sophomore and junior years of school in the same off-campus apartment and therefore lived in the same ward for nearly two years. I had passing crushes on various guys in my ward from time to time. For a while I had one on a guy was the son of the president of Ricks at the time--yep, Elder Bednar's son (no, we didn't go on any dates). Then I had a crush on this other guy, who I think was the object of admiration by most of the girls in the ward. He got engaged to a very nice girl and everyone thought they were the perfect couple. Then she dumped him the day before the wedding and went on a mission. I hope he found someone else even nicer than her. My junior year I had a crush on one of my home teachers. He went with me to Preference in November, but when I tried asking him on other dates he always politely declined. He continued to be a diligent home teacher and even helped me move my stuff to my aunt's house in April before I flew home to spend the summer getting ready for my mission. Later that summer I was in Utah visiting family and got on a plane to fly back to Maryland to finalize my preparations. I ran into my home teacher on that flight; he was flying from Utah to Saint Louis for his wedding. Yeah, he had been engaged for most of that year. I spent my flight feeling really embarrassed that I had spent so much time crushing on a guy who was seriously dating someone and even engaged. But then again, it's weird that he never said anything to me about it, even when I was trying to ask him out.

I moved home at the end of April and didn't leave on my mission until the end of August. And of course I had a crush on a guy in my home ward for a while before I left. My brother moved out to Utah shortly after I got to Maryland, and this guy had been hanging out with him so I think I ended up as a substitute for my brother. Plus I was over 21 so I could go clubbing with him. And we did go clubbing and out to movies and stuff. I was partially attracted to him because he was cute and partially because he was kind of "bad" and would listen to Sublime really loud when we were driving in his car. I think it was just exciting to let loose a little after three years in Provo. Don't worry--he was really excited that I was going on a mission and very protective of me when we went out dancing and stuff. I ended up chagrined again when the only response I got from my first letter to him was an announcement that he was engaged to marry another girl from my home ward. They're very happy together and I'm glad I ended up where I'm at now.

Then we get to the mission. No, I'm not going to skip this part--I will confess to having crushes on elders while on my mission. I hang my head in shame right now.

First there was the elder in my MTC group. I was in a threesome (why does that always sound dirty?) with two companions, so the dynamic there was a little weird. And this guy's companion didn't get along with him that well, so the two of us hung out quite a bit. Don't worry, we were never alone together or anything, but we did have a tendency to separate ourselves from the group a bit too much. When we were in the MTC in Madrid we had contests to see who could eat the most arroz con leche. I once ate four bowls of the stuff, even though I was already stuffed from dinner. The only time I feel a little bad about our friendship was when we went to the Prado museum on P-Day and the two of us were totally not paying attention to our companions. Hey, we liked art and they didn't. He went to a different mission in Spain and we didn't stay in touch.

Then I had a crush on my first district leader. I think that was partly due to the fact that my trainer idolized him and was always talking about how wonderful he was. Even weirder is the fact that several years later when I was teaching at BYU, his brother showed up in one of my classes. They look a lot alike, and it was a little strange to have him in my class. I actually did not have a crush on Master Fob during the mission, even though we were in the same district for a number of months. He does like to tease me because I had a rather pathetic crush on his companion. His companion was from Barcelona, and rather good looking. He also had nice clothes and a very sexy Spanish accent. I'll admit that I fantasized once or twice about moving back to Spain and marrying him--I'm not sure if I was in love with Spain or him or both. He wrote me some letters after he got transferred to another area, but I was good and didn't reciprocate. We wrote a bit after I came home, and he even sent me one of his name tags as a memento from him. I have no idea if the attraction was mutual (he had a girlfriend back home); his attentions were probably just due to the fact that Europeans are much more sentimental and outwardly emotionally expressive than Americans.

And then I came home and started emailing Master Fob. And I had a crush on him. And then I panicked because he liked me back, and actually showed it. It was my first reciprocated attraction and after a while got to be a lot less scary and a lot more fun.

And now you now that I really am just a giddy girl whose life has been a long series of lusting after people who refuse to return her affections. And I'm a naughty missionary who had crushes on the elders (only some of them; some of them I hated and kicked in the shins).

I don't think there's a moral to this story.

Preschool Days

S-Boogie completed her first full week of preschool today. She spends four hours at school on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings and is really enjoying her time there. I feel much better about her going than I did before she started. I was feeling guilty because the initial decision for her to go to school was precipitated more by my needs than hers and before she started I felt a lot of anxiety about this being a good idea. It turns out that it is, and I've been able to use my mornings for getting a lot of work done on thesis research (hopefully I'll start writing soon; I tend to do a lot of planning before writing). I had wanted to find a setting that was a little more "school" and a little less "day care", but I've realized that the two aren't necessarily mutually exclusive. She is attending a child care center and most of the kids are there all day. But she has two wonderful teachers and their schedule is filled with a nice mix of learning activities. She gets to play outside every day, a chance to practice social skills by learning in a group, and actual academic input (this week they are talking about the letter "n"). I think I would feel bad if she were there every day all day; she would miss a lot of opportunities for individual attention and personal interaction that she really can't get with a ratio of seventeen kids to two teachers. But on the other hand, I don't feel bad about her getting the kinds of experiences that they can provide and I can't.

Today as we were walking home we had some fun little conversations. The center is located on the second floor of one of the buildings in the shopping center behind our house. We walked by Victoria's Secret on the way home (nice, I know). She was excited to see all the "ladies" in the window and thankfully didn't comment on their lack of clothing. Then we looked at the little waterfalls which were turned off today.

S: "Mommy, where the water go?"
M: "I think it's hiding because it's too cold."
S: "Is the water happy or sad?"
M: "I don't know, what do you think?"
S: "I think it's sad because it had to go away"

Then,
S: "There's a bird up in the tree. It's so high up, I cannot reach it!" (she says this while jumping)

And later she saw our apartment building, which has a big letter "J"

S: "We live at J, Mommy!" "Oh look, it's a J umbrella!" "Is J for umbrella, Mom?"

Most days I can see her starting to grow out of her defiant, two-year-old stage, although it still rears its ugly head at times. She usually doesn't defy just for the sake of conflict any more, there's usually a reason for misbehavior and she can usually explain it. That doesn't mean I give in to tantrums any more than I used to. She also loves to help lately and is getting more and more interested in playing with "Tiffy" and reading to him.

The school thing is a little bittersweet, because there is a portion of her days that I'm not participating in. A baby's life is so intertwined with yours that after a while you don't even realize how much you are aware of their needs rather than your own. But then before you know it they're gone for hours and the only thing they can tell you about what they did is "I eat sanwiches and carrots and dips and I play outside". We're on the slippery slope to "My day was fine" and "I'm taking the car, see you later". I just hope her roots and her wings are strong enough to carry her through.

All the Boys I've Loved Before--Part 1

Since Master Fob has been doing a series on his girl crushes, I decided to follow his lead, however painful it might be for me and the parties involved. I know I've already written on here about how my love life pre-Master Fob was a series of unrequited crushes and painfully awkward attempts at connection with guys. Now you get the full story with all the ugly details.

I don't remember having any crushes until fourth grade. When I was in first and second grade, my friend and I would spend recess "cockroaching" the boys--we would chase them around, and if we managed to touch one, they were "cockroached". Not sure where we came up with that one. In fourth grade I was living in Mountain Home, Idaho and I had a crush on a guy in my primary class. His first and last name started with the same letter and I loved the alliteration. Also his big sister taught me piano lessons, so every week I got the chance to sit in his house on his couch and even use his bathroom! Ooh, the thrill! I never did anything about this crush except think about how cute he was and how cool his name was.

By sixth grade I had moved back to California and I got a crush on a guy in my class. Again, absolutely no attempts on my part to do anything about it. His house was located along my paper route, and I would always pedal furiously past it lest he wake up at 5:30 AM and catch me in my pink sweat pants and dorky bike helmet. By junior high my crush on him was waning, but I continued to like him through most of seventh and eighth grades. I added a second boy to my crush list; his last name came right after mine alphabetically and we often ended up sitting by each other in classes we had together. This boy precipitated my first attempts to reach out and do something about my feelings. At the end of eighth grade we got to take a trip to Magic Mountain. This boy and I ended up sitting near each other on the bus and hung out for the first part of the night. Unfortunately we got in an argument about what ride to go on and parted ways. At the eighth grade graduation dance, I tried again by asking him to dance. He ignored me, so I persisted. He ended up hiding under a chair with me pulling on his arm trying to get him out. Finally I went outside for a while and his friends tried to talk him into coming out from under the chair. He did come out and dance with me for one dance, but I was so embarrassed that I could barely look at him or talk to him. I'm not sure what happened to him in high school, since we never saw each other or talked again.

In addition to my school crushes, I had a brief crush on a boy at church during this time. We had a little "etiquette dinner" for a combined YW/YM activity and he asked me to dance. It was fabulous; I even remember the song we danced to and for years would get excited when I heard it on the radio (totally cheesy song, by the way). My mom was Young Woman president at the time, so we have photos from that activity in our family album. There's one of us dancing together that I used to get giddy from looking at. Another time I ended up at this boy's house for a few hours before going to a church activity. I don't quite remember why I was at his house. I remember trying to look cool while jumping on his trampoline in a dress--trying to act flirty by showing a little leg, but not slutty by showing off my panties. That was kind of hard to do.

By the time I started ninth grade, I was pretty much down to one school crush and one church crush. My school crush was on a guy who ended up in most of my classes; his name starts with A. Unfortunately, by sophomore year A had a girlfriend. Her locker was right by mine. The entire school year I had to see them making out right in front of me every time I went to my locker. Sigh. The biggest thrill I got was one time my junior year when I was cleaning my glasses and A said "Hey, you look really good without those on". Sigh.

My sophomore year of school I fell in love with my best friend's little brother, which was kind of a combo of school crush and church crush. He was a freshman and we were both in marching band. It was the first time I really got to be good friends with a guy. We'd hang out at band practice and on band trips all the time. At church we'd act goofy by doing things like trading shoes with each other. I spent a lot of time with my friend anyway, so the three of us did lots of fun things together. When I was in my "crushing" phase with her brother I always felt weird sleeping over at her house and hanging out in my pajamas with him. By the end of my sophomore year things cooled off considerably with us. People teased us both for liking each other and I think he wanted to hang out with boys more than with his sister's dorky friend. But we keep in touch and I still consider him a good friend, without any of the lingering embarrassment that surrounds any of my other crushes. (Now I hope he's not reading my blog).

I guess I sort of had a crush in the guy I went to Prom with. He was really the only Mormon boy my age who went to my school and we had Spanish class together. He was very nice and reasonably cute; the only problem was that he wasn't very academically gifted. I know that's a horrible thing to say and I still feel bad about it. But I was a terrible academic snob in high school. I probably still am. The truth is, I really wanted to go to prom with my friend's brother, but he wasn't sixteen yet Not only was I an intellectual snob in high school, I was very uptight about following all the rules (I don't really regret that too much, though).We moved away before my senior year, so I didn't get a second chance at going to prom.

I spent my senior year missing my friends in California and occasionally crushing on the missionaries, but I don't remember any major romantic action on my part. When I left to go to BYU I was terrified of the predatory RMs that are said to stalk freshman girls. Little did I know that no one, RM or not, goes for the dorky freshman girls.

More about that next time...

The Grocery Store Game

As I've mentioned on here before, our apartment complex is conveniently located right next to a large shopping center. I quickly figured out that it is nearly as far to walk to my car as it is to walk the other direction to the grocery store, so driving to get groceries would be pointless since it would still involve hauling the food from the car to our home. Right after we moved in I bought us a folding metal grocery cart, and it has worked out really well for shopping trips. Our faithful cart can hold two gallons of milk and several bags of groceries, perfect for one of our little biweekly trips to the store. I do end up going to the store more frequently because our cart doesn't hold as many groceries as my trunk, but I've learned to spend less on each trip and we've been able to increase our consumption of fresh fruits and veggies by buying them more often.

Unfortunately, our little shopping system has started to hit a snag. Little Dude is getting too big for me to wear him in the snuggli. Not only is he long (his head hits my chin) and heavy, but he's also gotten grabby and wiggly and doesn' t really like to be in there any more. Master Fob can still wear him comfortably in the sling, but no matter how many times I try to use it, I can't get the darn thing to work right on me. Sometimes I take Little Dude with us in the stroller, but the basket isn't big enough for milk and I can't fit more than one or two bags on the handles. And I can't push the stroller and pull the cart at the same time. I will often take a trip out in the evening after Master Fob is home, but sometimes I want to go during the day. Like today, when we're supposed to be getting a massive storm with wind and rain this evening.

So now I'm trying to figure out my options for transporting myself, my children, and my food to and from the store with ease. I think today I'll give the sling another go. I had considered just carrying him to the store and bringing the cart home with us, but that feels trashy and it's illegal (and our apartment managers have asked us not to do that) I've often seen people advertising hiking backpacks on craigslist for cheap, so I might try getting one of those. Our neighbors wear their baby in one all the time and he looks pretty happy perched up there. I worry about the akwardness of carrying him that way and the weirdness of looking like a pack mule. We now have a double bike trailer/jogging stroller (thank you, thank you to Master Fob's generous sister) that might work for both kids and groceries. But then I'd have to lock it to the bike rack at the store, take the kids out and then load them up again after shopping. It seems like a bit of a pain to me.

Sigh. I think I've been thinking about this a little too much!

Notes from the Weekend

We had an enjoyable Dia de los Reyes party on Friday night with some friends. Their little boy Dylan brought his Batman cape and mask, so S-Boogie got out her Supergirl cape and they had a great time fighting crime together. It's too bad we couldn't convince them to fight crime anywhere except in the living room. I think it will take me a while to get used to the fact that Master Fob now has Friday nights off after working Fridays for the last three years.

I didn't get anything productive done yesterday. I spent way too much time online. I think I spend several hours most days browsing the internet. Yes I read a lot of news and I love to keep up with my friend's blogs, but it's getting to be a little excessive I think. The problem is I haven't figured out yet how to bottle feed and read a book, but I can sort of hold the bottle and use the mouse. And the internet requires small fragments of attention wheras books do not. But, I think my escapism is reaching problem levels, so I need to cut the addiction a little.

Last night we watched The Motorcycle Diaries and I really liked it. I think I want to move to Peru (well, maybe go for a visit). It's not your typical film in that it's lighter on plot and heavier on scenery, but it was interesting as an attempt to translate autobiographical writing to film. I would recommend it to anyone--the R rating is for words in subtitles and there isn't any sex, nudity, or violence on screen. It was nice to watch a movie that was "adult" in its sentiments and content without finding the need to shock through gratuitous sex and violence.

S-Boogie spent her first day in Sunbeams well; I couldn't get much feedback about her lesson, but Primary passed without incident and she's been singing "Here We Are Together" all afternoon. Sacrament Meeting was very pleasant too, so I think we're all grateful for 9 o'clock church.

For the last three days Little Dude has surprised me with a two-hour afternoon nap. I hope this trend continues. I also hope the jagged little corner of tooth sticking out of his bottom gum will complete its emergence sometime soon so we can celebrate.

Resolutions

I actually did set some goals for this year, even if I didn't get around to posting them before today. Master Fob and I have been pretty good about setting goals for the last few years, and even moderately successful at achieving them. I like to set some global, general goals for the year, and then we make up charts with specific, quantifiable goals for the next few months. So, my big goals for this year are:

1. Finish my thesis and graduate
This is a big goal, and I really hope it happens during the first part of the year. Right now I'm trying my darndest to devote free moments to study and writing. Unfortunately, I don't get very many free moments. And I keep doing things like hosting parties (last night) that use up my time on things like cooking and washing dishes. We did have a fun party, but I think our next will not be happening until after the thesis is done.

2. Lose some weight and get in better shape.
The good news is, I'm only about 15 pounds off from a healthy weight for me. The bad news is, I've been that much overweight for about ten years now. My body doesn't shed weight easily. After both pregnancies I've returned back to this point easily, but no further. When I was in high school I was just as tall and weighed twenty pounds less than I do now, so I know it can be done. The hardest thing for me with this goal is the required changes in eating habits. I know I have a good start, like I don't drink soda, I don't like most fast food, and I really like fruits and veggies. But I have a great love for cheese and other high-fat dairy products and I love to bake. One goal for the next few months Master Fob and I are trying is three "no treat days" a week where we don't eat any sweets or other fatty/sugary things. I don't know how well it will work, but I hope it will at least help me break the habit. And I'm still going walking three days a week. Again, these are just small steps and I know I need bigger ones, but maybe when I get my thesis out of the way and the weather starts getting warm I can work harder.

3. Get more "in shape" spiritually
I have really been neglecting my scripture study, prayer, and general spirituality habits for a while now. I've set a renewed goal to study my scriptures every day. I can always find time for blogging, but never time for scripture study. Hmmm....And we have a goal to read the New Testament as a family. We were going to do it as couple time, but decided to include S-Boogie as well. The other day we were reading about the wise men "falling down and worshipping" and she became concerned about them getting hurt. A good introduction to scripture language.

So, I only set three rather modest goals for myself. But I'd rather have realistic expectations with a clear plan than nebulous things that will just make me feel worse for not achieving them. We'll see how I did when December rolls around.

I shall be thrust down to hell

When I picked up S-Boogie from the Fun Center at the store today, the nice lady in charge said something about three-year-olds cutting their own hair. At first I didn't quite catch what she said, but even when I understood I didn't make any effort to correct her and just mumbled something affirmative. Yes, my pants are officially on fire. But I'm too embarrassed to admit that I can't cut hair any better than a preschooler.

I didn't know you could do that!

It's funny how kids will do something and you'll realize that they've never done it before and that they are just as excited about this new step as you are. Tonight we were eating dinner and Little Dude was playing with his new favorite toy, the plastic place mat that came with the feeding chair. For some reason he loves holding and mouthing thin things, like the edge of the rug, the changing pad, and any tags or labels he can get his hands on. So he was playing with his place mat and held it up over his face. Then he took it away and started giggling. Then he put it back again. He played peekaboo with us for a while, until S-Boogie and I were totally giggling too. It was amazing--I've never seen him do that before. It was also amazing to watch his little face light up as he realized his power to do something on his own. I also can't begin to describe how beautiful his little laugh is. It's still a somewhat rare occasion, but it is so welcome after the months and months of screaming we've left behind us.

The other day S-Boogie found a coloring page with a snowman on it. The snowman didn't have a face, so I suggested she draw one. And she did--two very realistic circle eyes, a nice big nose, and a smiling mouth! I've never seen her do that before either. I've been trying to find the snowman paper so I can save it. Today was also her first day of preschool. She actually just went for an hour or so while Master Fob and I signed the papers and had an orientation. I think it will be a good fit for her--she marched right in and joined their circle in singing "I'm Going on a Bear Hunt". I had been nervous about her going potty by herself, but they have a nice potty room with little toilets and a little sink that she can use on her own. The teachers really encourage the kids to take care of as many of their own needs as possible, like clearing their lunch dishes, washing their hands, putting away toys, etc. We try to encourage those kinds of things, but our home isn't always set up for little people in the way a preschool classroom is. It was fun to see how she interacts with other kids and with her teachers. I still can't believe how big both my kids are getting!

Resolution

I am never going to try and cut S-Boogie's hair again. I tried to trim her bangs this morning and they look horrible. I had to stop before they got any shorter, but now she gets to go to preschool tomorrow looking like an urchin. Maybe they'll give us a scholarship.

I guess it's time to start shelling out money for real haircuts.

An Auspicious Beginning

My first meal of 2007 was caramel popcorn.

I hope this is a good sign.