Spicy, green candied popcorn!
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
St. Patrick's day observations
So, we didn't so much celebrate St. Patrick's day on St. Patrick's day this year. Sylvia had a class party on Friday, the 16th, and the closest we came to a remembrance on the day itself came in the form of green eggs for Sylvia's breakfast Saturday and potato tacos for dinner that night. We set a leprechaun trap that evening, though, and we did catch something...
Spicy, green candied popcorn!
Spicy, green candied popcorn!
Monday, March 12, 2012
Conscious of the world around her
This afternoon I went on a lovely walk with two of the women I work with in primary. Sadly, it turns out one of them (the president) is moving shortly, so we won't be working together much longer. Happily, she's not moving far away, so our regular Sunday afternoon walks may continue for a while. As an aside, I also probably won't be in primary much longer unless the new primary president asks for me as a counselor or in some other capacity.
Anyway, the walking was lovely, even with two kids in tow. Sylvia finally cajoled us into stopping to let her play at one of the playgrounds, which she took full advantage of. After really quite a while playing nicely on the playground, she made a break for the water, which I wasn't about to let her go into alone, or when it's barely 65 degrees (if that), so we continued back to cars and went home.
On the way we heard NPR discussing the killing of Afghan civilians by a US service member. Sylvia very pointedly, and specifically, asked why the man killed the women and children. I wish I had a good response. The best I could do was tell her I didn't know, but sometimes people do things they shouldn't do because they get too stressed and don't know how to deal with it. I have no idea of the guys has PTSD or some other mental instability, but at this point that's the most obvious explanation to my mind. I hope the explanation at the very least doesn't make Sylvia more worried.
It's scary how observant she's becoming, and how much more she understands about what's going on or being discussed around her. Most of the time I admit I giggle under my breath a little at the way she sees certain things, like today when she told me she didn't want to "get dead" in the parking lot so she was going to hold my hand (which she did at least most of the way to the car). Other times, though, it's heart-wrenching to hear her trying to make sense of things that just don't make sense, like a man killing unarmed women and children in their homes in the dead of night with no explanation.
Anyway, the walking was lovely, even with two kids in tow. Sylvia finally cajoled us into stopping to let her play at one of the playgrounds, which she took full advantage of. After really quite a while playing nicely on the playground, she made a break for the water, which I wasn't about to let her go into alone, or when it's barely 65 degrees (if that), so we continued back to cars and went home.
On the way we heard NPR discussing the killing of Afghan civilians by a US service member. Sylvia very pointedly, and specifically, asked why the man killed the women and children. I wish I had a good response. The best I could do was tell her I didn't know, but sometimes people do things they shouldn't do because they get too stressed and don't know how to deal with it. I have no idea of the guys has PTSD or some other mental instability, but at this point that's the most obvious explanation to my mind. I hope the explanation at the very least doesn't make Sylvia more worried.
It's scary how observant she's becoming, and how much more she understands about what's going on or being discussed around her. Most of the time I admit I giggle under my breath a little at the way she sees certain things, like today when she told me she didn't want to "get dead" in the parking lot so she was going to hold my hand (which she did at least most of the way to the car). Other times, though, it's heart-wrenching to hear her trying to make sense of things that just don't make sense, like a man killing unarmed women and children in their homes in the dead of night with no explanation.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
He so owes me
When Sylvia puked at her Uncle Philip's wedding, she'd been drinking a fruity, cherry-flavored beverage all afternoon, so her vomit pretty much smelled like cherries. Tonight, when Sylvia swallowed her cherry-flavored mouthwash and then puked it and what looked like everything she'd eaten all day, it smelled exactly the same.
I hate that smell.
Fortunately, taking care of vomited-covered bedsheets by myself is much easier at home, with a hose, than in an unfamiliar hotel by myself (Derrick was at the rehearsal--projectile vomit was only a valid excuse for the one of us with no active part to play in the wedding). After stripping Sylvia, bathing her, stripping her bed, and hosing everything off, I took a shower.
Paul enjoyed the shower, too. He's had a nasty cold for the past week that at times has left him wheezing in way that almost sent us to the doctor. Almost. Except for the whole, they can't actually do anything unless it's real respiratory distress (which it wasn't). In case you're wondering, he's feeling better. I have hopes that the shirt I wear tomorrow won't be covered with a network of snot stains.
I haven't told Derrick about Sylvia's puking. I probably won't for a while yet so I don't distract him. You may wonder why he's not experiencing this himself--at the moment he's interviewing for a real job at a university in New Mexico. It's pretty exciting. Even if he doesn't get the job (and he's apparently one of five candidates, so it's far from certain) it's still pretty exciting he's got an interview. I'm glad it'll be over soon, though. Since they informed him of the interview he's had an impossible time sleeping and has been so focused on his talk it's been pretty much the only subject of all conversations with him. Not that the bodily fluids of our children are more interesting to discuss (they're not) but it'll be nice to have him back and capable of listening to the rest of us.
I hate that smell.
Fortunately, taking care of vomited-covered bedsheets by myself is much easier at home, with a hose, than in an unfamiliar hotel by myself (Derrick was at the rehearsal--projectile vomit was only a valid excuse for the one of us with no active part to play in the wedding). After stripping Sylvia, bathing her, stripping her bed, and hosing everything off, I took a shower.
Paul enjoyed the shower, too. He's had a nasty cold for the past week that at times has left him wheezing in way that almost sent us to the doctor. Almost. Except for the whole, they can't actually do anything unless it's real respiratory distress (which it wasn't). In case you're wondering, he's feeling better. I have hopes that the shirt I wear tomorrow won't be covered with a network of snot stains.
I haven't told Derrick about Sylvia's puking. I probably won't for a while yet so I don't distract him. You may wonder why he's not experiencing this himself--at the moment he's interviewing for a real job at a university in New Mexico. It's pretty exciting. Even if he doesn't get the job (and he's apparently one of five candidates, so it's far from certain) it's still pretty exciting he's got an interview. I'm glad it'll be over soon, though. Since they informed him of the interview he's had an impossible time sleeping and has been so focused on his talk it's been pretty much the only subject of all conversations with him. Not that the bodily fluids of our children are more interesting to discuss (they're not) but it'll be nice to have him back and capable of listening to the rest of us.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
I didn't put him there
He's pulling himself up to standing position now. Not only can he scoot around on the floor, I think it won't be long before he's cruising.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Paul update
Paul is again measuring long and skinny. He's 17 lb, 3 oz (7.769 kg), which is about 30th percentile, and 27 3/4 inches (70.5 cm), which is about 80th percentile for length. He's growing well, developing well, and is happy, friendly (as long as he's in my lap), and a joy to have around.
And he's ready for Easter!
And he's ready for Easter!
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Blessed
I lost my wallet. A few months ago I lost my wallet while getting out of my car. I'm pretty sure it just fell out of my lap while I was getting out and, in the bustle of pulling out Sylvia and the In 'n Out I'd purchased for dinner I lost it. The wallet only had a few things of any value to anyone else--about $13 and a couple of gift cards--but it was enough someone took the wallet.
For a while I was angry that someone took it. I kept looking at my neighbors wondering who among them would keep the belongings of their neighbor, especially when my address and picture were right there inside. I eventually concocted a story for myself in which my wallet was lost because someone else, perhaps a young, impoverished mother, needed the few dollars to buy diapers for her child or gas to get to the job that keeps her in her meager, but sufficient livelihood. Such a trade would only be fair, after all--I've been blessed by someone else's loss similarly, and in times of significant financial stress. When I was in 5th or 6th grade I lost a bus pass and my parents didn't really have the money to replace it. Shortly after I found a $20 bill--exactly the amount I needed for a new bus pass. I didn't really stop to consider the person who lost the money, just that a problem of mine was now solved. Maybe the real finder of my wallet bears little or no resemblance to the person I imagine; maybe the cash was spent on candy or fast food; but imagining something positive coming from my misfortune gave me some solace.
Today I lost my wallet again. This time apparently nobody needed anything from it; this time someone returned it to me. I am thankful to be so blessed, grateful for people who are honest.
In the same vein, I am grateful for friends who just happened to be at Jack in the balfa and offered me a ride home so I and my two kids didn't have to walk home in the rain.
For a while I was angry that someone took it. I kept looking at my neighbors wondering who among them would keep the belongings of their neighbor, especially when my address and picture were right there inside. I eventually concocted a story for myself in which my wallet was lost because someone else, perhaps a young, impoverished mother, needed the few dollars to buy diapers for her child or gas to get to the job that keeps her in her meager, but sufficient livelihood. Such a trade would only be fair, after all--I've been blessed by someone else's loss similarly, and in times of significant financial stress. When I was in 5th or 6th grade I lost a bus pass and my parents didn't really have the money to replace it. Shortly after I found a $20 bill--exactly the amount I needed for a new bus pass. I didn't really stop to consider the person who lost the money, just that a problem of mine was now solved. Maybe the real finder of my wallet bears little or no resemblance to the person I imagine; maybe the cash was spent on candy or fast food; but imagining something positive coming from my misfortune gave me some solace.
Today I lost my wallet again. This time apparently nobody needed anything from it; this time someone returned it to me. I am thankful to be so blessed, grateful for people who are honest.
In the same vein, I am grateful for friends who just happened to be at Jack in the balfa and offered me a ride home so I and my two kids didn't have to walk home in the rain.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Sweet home San Diego
Remember way back when I said I was going to blog more so that I would feel like every day wasn't exactly the same? Yeah, then I went to Salt Lake and visited family and did some work there, so I kind of stopped having time to do said blogging. Oops.
We're back now, and it's nice, especially for the kids. Utah in a lot of ways still feels like home to me, but it's obvious my kids are really at home in San Diego. Paul chuckles whenever we do something he likes (he's got skilz when it comes to parent training) and he pretty much chuckled from the moment we stepped into the door. Sylvia, who had complained daily about going to school before our trip, made nary a peep about getting ready to go this morning, even though we got up at about 4 to finish the drive home. She took a (3 hour!) nap this afternoon, again, without complaint, and then ran around like a crazy woman when we went to visit friends for a few minutes. It's amazing. It's like my kids missed home.
There are some things I want to remember about this trip, so here they are, in no particular order:
1. Paul's belly-flop, leap-frogging crawl. Effective, and amusing to watch. I'm sure he'll figure out how to coordinate his legs, but in the mean time he's entertaining to watch.
2. Sylvia's super-smeller. She claimed to smell the dark.
3. A cousin (who shall remain nameless) telling me she didn't want any fish chowder because her morning sickness made it unappetizing.
4. Watching Downton Abbey with family
4b. Nacho eating about a third of a bowl of caramel popcorn during some movie I watched with Sylvia because we left for a few minutes and I stupidly thought the couch would be a safe place for it.
5. Listening to my Grandpa's funeral. My grandma read the essay I wrote (which was also used as his obituary) and I bawled through it. That was the only thing that made me cry, though--everyone else gave great remembrances of my Grandpa's life and example. I remember a couple of people complaining about the stake president who spoke at the end, and I see why they complained. My grandpa was a complex person with strengths and flaws, a very human man. The SP tried to reduce the man we all loved to something simple, perfect, and very faith-affirming, which just isn't grandpa. He was a colorful character and that's a lot of what we love about him. Not to turn this into a critique of someone I've never met, but some people I guess can't handle shades of gray in their heroes. Perhaps that's why so much of my family has a hard time finding teachings within the church that resonate anymore--all the complexity's been excised by well-meaning simplifiers.
6. Sylvia pulling out all of my Grandma's tissues and giving them to Paul.
7. Sylvia playing in the snow. Derrick hitting me in the face with a snowball while I was holding my camera. Grr.
8. Valentine's day Sylvia went with my mom and made us all valentines cookies. She then took the extra princess valentines and cut them up using Mimi's scrap booking scissors. Lots and lots of confetti ensued.
9. Blueberry scones of the Utah variety. Sooo good! For those of you not from Utah, fry bread filled with blueberry pie filling, covered with icing. Serious sugar rush.
10. Paul's leap frogging crawl all over the downstairs kitchen. He could only move a few feet, but man, the things he could get into in a few feet! Mimi has a collection of painted rocks. He was especially fond of pulling those out and eating them.
11. Derrick turning a beautiful paduk platter and turning into a carrot in the process. The beautiful platter is now almost fully obscured by his wooden rocks.
12. Princess party for Sylvia's cousin, L. Sylvia had fun, but was happy to hand over the dress and get back to being a tomboy once the party was over.
13. A day at Elisa's house. Beautiful light in her bedroom in the afternoon, so I took a bunch of pictures of Paul (the day after his half-birthday). A friend of hers was making a quilt and Elisa was going through old episodes of Glee to find her favorite songs. That night we went to the Blue Lemon (or something like that) for dinner. Elisa and Anna practiced signing as we ate. Across the restaurant was a table of hipster couples, all dressed like they'd just stepped out of a TV show.
I think people in (some parts of) Utah dress better than people in California.
14. Paul started out very worried about all the new people...
but by the end he'd grown accustomed to at least a few of his relatives.
15. Camping on a moonless night in the Afton Road campground, our tent filled with clean laundry to serve as insulation against the ground, the four of us covered by a single sleeping bag (fortunately warm!) and a couple of "blankets" I bought for the kids. The blankets were really 1 yard pieces of fabric from Joanne's. Paul needed a soft blanket to sleep, so he got a new orange blanket. Sylvia, not wanting to be left out, got a piece of polar fleece with skulls and purple roses on it--to scare away the monsters.
We're back now, and it's nice, especially for the kids. Utah in a lot of ways still feels like home to me, but it's obvious my kids are really at home in San Diego. Paul chuckles whenever we do something he likes (he's got skilz when it comes to parent training) and he pretty much chuckled from the moment we stepped into the door. Sylvia, who had complained daily about going to school before our trip, made nary a peep about getting ready to go this morning, even though we got up at about 4 to finish the drive home. She took a (3 hour!) nap this afternoon, again, without complaint, and then ran around like a crazy woman when we went to visit friends for a few minutes. It's amazing. It's like my kids missed home.
There are some things I want to remember about this trip, so here they are, in no particular order:
1. Paul's belly-flop, leap-frogging crawl. Effective, and amusing to watch. I'm sure he'll figure out how to coordinate his legs, but in the mean time he's entertaining to watch.
2. Sylvia's super-smeller. She claimed to smell the dark.
3. A cousin (who shall remain nameless) telling me she didn't want any fish chowder because her morning sickness made it unappetizing.
4. Watching Downton Abbey with family
4b. Nacho eating about a third of a bowl of caramel popcorn during some movie I watched with Sylvia because we left for a few minutes and I stupidly thought the couch would be a safe place for it.
5. Listening to my Grandpa's funeral. My grandma read the essay I wrote (which was also used as his obituary) and I bawled through it. That was the only thing that made me cry, though--everyone else gave great remembrances of my Grandpa's life and example. I remember a couple of people complaining about the stake president who spoke at the end, and I see why they complained. My grandpa was a complex person with strengths and flaws, a very human man. The SP tried to reduce the man we all loved to something simple, perfect, and very faith-affirming, which just isn't grandpa. He was a colorful character and that's a lot of what we love about him. Not to turn this into a critique of someone I've never met, but some people I guess can't handle shades of gray in their heroes. Perhaps that's why so much of my family has a hard time finding teachings within the church that resonate anymore--all the complexity's been excised by well-meaning simplifiers.
6. Sylvia pulling out all of my Grandma's tissues and giving them to Paul.
7. Sylvia playing in the snow. Derrick hitting me in the face with a snowball while I was holding my camera. Grr.
8. Valentine's day Sylvia went with my mom and made us all valentines cookies. She then took the extra princess valentines and cut them up using Mimi's scrap booking scissors. Lots and lots of confetti ensued.
9. Blueberry scones of the Utah variety. Sooo good! For those of you not from Utah, fry bread filled with blueberry pie filling, covered with icing. Serious sugar rush.
10. Paul's leap frogging crawl all over the downstairs kitchen. He could only move a few feet, but man, the things he could get into in a few feet! Mimi has a collection of painted rocks. He was especially fond of pulling those out and eating them.
11. Derrick turning a beautiful paduk platter and turning into a carrot in the process. The beautiful platter is now almost fully obscured by his wooden rocks.
12. Princess party for Sylvia's cousin, L. Sylvia had fun, but was happy to hand over the dress and get back to being a tomboy once the party was over.
13. A day at Elisa's house. Beautiful light in her bedroom in the afternoon, so I took a bunch of pictures of Paul (the day after his half-birthday). A friend of hers was making a quilt and Elisa was going through old episodes of Glee to find her favorite songs. That night we went to the Blue Lemon (or something like that) for dinner. Elisa and Anna practiced signing as we ate. Across the restaurant was a table of hipster couples, all dressed like they'd just stepped out of a TV show.
I think people in (some parts of) Utah dress better than people in California.
14. Paul started out very worried about all the new people...
but by the end he'd grown accustomed to at least a few of his relatives.
15. Camping on a moonless night in the Afton Road campground, our tent filled with clean laundry to serve as insulation against the ground, the four of us covered by a single sleeping bag (fortunately warm!) and a couple of "blankets" I bought for the kids. The blankets were really 1 yard pieces of fabric from Joanne's. Paul needed a soft blanket to sleep, so he got a new orange blanket. Sylvia, not wanting to be left out, got a piece of polar fleece with skulls and purple roses on it--to scare away the monsters.
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