You snazzy dressers

"K guys, time to get dressed for school."

"OK, mom," sound of running feet.

     ...

"K mom, we are ready."

Before and after

This wig has had a workout. Thank you Grandma Crow!

Key in my pocket, lump in my throat

Sweet Henry,

You kept waking up at 5 am and coming into our room to play. I am not going to like you (or much else for that matter) if you keep doing this. So Daddy and Jayson went to Hippo Hardware to find us a skeleton key that would fit our old fashioned door locks.

They found one! So locking your room has been our answer to getting out of bed too many times or too early in the morning (and also the occasional violent lash or car thrown at your sister's head).

I always think of this when I am walking away from your locked door.

At night, you can't climb back into your crib so we put the mattress on the floor. The hope was that you would see the locked door and then go to bed yourself. Yeah, right! Instead you play with your cars until you pass out mid-brmmmm somewhere on the floor, and then we quietly come in and put you into your bed  much later.

Typical of the new sleeping arrangement.

The pass out positions we find you in are adorable. And BONUS!, I get a little mid-slumber snuggle time between picking you up and laying you in bed. Mmmm.

Note the truck at your head.

But now.

It is really time to get you a new bed.

We have been talking about it for a while but something about the thought constricts my breath and makes my knees weak.

You are growing up so fast, I almost can't stand it. You are the littlest boy I will ever had and you are getting so BIG!

Next month you will be turning 3.

Learning the ropes but hopefully not shaving quite yet

 You talk in complete sentences and count to 30 and haphazardly beyond. You can sing songs, do puzzles, and tell stories. What you know already is astounding!

Learning your way around a vacuum

And I swear your body grows every stinking day! Your shoulders are now wider than Lucy's and I can't guess from one week to the next where pants will hit the bottom of your legs. You keep saying "Mom, look at this trick," when you can reach something new with your extend-a-arms.

I didn't have to roll these pants when I put them on today.

No way can I keep calling you my baby.

The days Lucy can pick your costumes may also be numbered.

So it is more onward and upward. With me shedding more than a few tears on the way.

I love you my sweet Henry.

Please humor your strange mama as I hug you a little tighter, and we keep your ragged crib just a little while longer.

xo,
Mama

So are you allergic to church, or what?

We haven't taken you to church that much. Hasn't seemed like there was much point with you mostly squirming and sleeping and then hollering and wanting to run through the halls. Also, saying "I hate church" before, during, and after. Mmmm - so sweet and peaceful. Wait, what?

The fantasy.

Last year, our 1-4 pm church schedule was a death knell. Right over nap time? I don't think so. Attempts were brutal to say the least. Thou shalt not skip nap time has been added as the 11th commandment (and an important factor for preventing that killing one).

Closer to reality.

Starting this month, we have the favored 9-noon block. You're getting a little older and more able to sit still. We could try again, right?

Well, the trial run we had in Midway with Grandma did not go wonderfully. I had my suitcase bag of treats and activities that was supposed to bribe help you through in sacrament meeting. Instead, Lucy had pillaged all the food and Henry was crying and banging chairs before the bread got passed around. Lovely. I feel so good about myself.

I'm not the only one going in armed.

Mom was kind to point out that all of the other kids around us were awful too. And she was right!! It was funny and crazy to look around and see other families doing the same wrangling and bribing. And the quiet ones were mostly on iPads, iPhones and such; the sea of screens in her ward was almost funny. 

I mean - I'm Mormon, right. I grew up fidgeting in church and climbing under the seats for lost cheerios. But I behaved most of the time, right? And I mostly liked church. And I learned stuff. And my mom wasn't completely exhausted after church or anything. Or wait, was she?

Someone felt moved enough to turn this into art!

I guess this is just another example of how clueless kids are. I kind of thought Sundays with children would be uplifting and peaceful. But a a 70-minute(!) sit-still-and-be-quiet meeting with children is anything but!

I love that Googling "Kids in Sacrament meeting" got me this winner. Yup, that's how it is.

My poor mom. Getting 6 kids through church and fulfilling a calling or two must have been an absolute marathon. 

Anyway. This week, it was the REAL THING in our own ward.

And...

We weren't even close to ready in time for the 9 am meeting.

OK? Try again for primary at 10:10. 

Victory, we made it!

Until Henry was kicked out of nursery a few minutes later for scratching and biting the leader. 

Lovely.

So, straight jackets or atheism? What's your vote?

Welcome home, call me ravaged

The last day of our trip to Utah and the drive home was quite the doozy for your mama. We made it home but I have a sinus infection. And a double ear infection. GAH!!!!!!! Weep. Stumble sniff. Clunk down dead.

So, feel free to entertain yourselves (ha!) while I climb into bed for a week with lots of these.

xo
Mama

2013: Gratitude and Love

I wasn't going to make any resolutions this year. But after talking with my brother Will, I've chaged my mind. Maybe he will make these resolutions with me.

My 2012 has been a search for familial and inner peace. It's been a quest for life's answers big and small: the best neighborhood, the right school, the right parenting tactic, the optimal life/work balance...

Screw that. Definitive answers on the best/optimal/wise of anything are proving elusive. And will they really make us happier? Who knows.

So with the new year, I'm going back to some basics: love and gratitude.

#1: Take 5 minutes every day to write down things I'm grateful for. 

This could be one specific thing and thoughts about that: such as sisters or sleep. Or stream of consicousness gratitude: "I'm thankful for flattering mirrors. I'm thankful for puddle boots. I'm thankful for bacon." 

If gratitude is a muscle, this is it's exercise. It won't be written for anyone else but myself. No one needs to read about how much I love it when other people use mouthwash. But maybe taking time to recognize these things could have a profound impact on my life's joy.

The tricky part will be doing it every day. But If I don't have 5 MINUTES to be grateful for what I have, then what is the point. Really. 

Plus I feel my "gratidude muslces" DO make me happier. So why not.

#2. Write down 1+ unique things every day that I love about your dad.

I've done this before when things were difficult between us and it helped a lot. Right now, things are very good. We don't have a lot of time for each other due to the (rather intense) maintenance of two toddlers (ahem), a household, jobs, et al - but we cherish one another. 

So why now?

Well, the relationship I have with your dad is my single most precious asset. Yup - my numero uno favorite thing in the whole gosh darn world. It seems like nurturing that relationship should be a constant goal with more long-term benefits than padding the bank account or choosing just the right elementary school.

Today, "I love that Jeremy is a diligent handwasher which keeps him and our family healthier."

Too bad Henry doesn't seem to have the hand washing gene as I think he has just given me another awesome cold. Note: I am NOT really thankful for running nose snot smeared all over my shirt. Nope, not at all.

And lastly:

#3: Seek to be mindful of ways to bring this gratitude and love into the rest of my day. 

That's it, pretty simple really. But with potty training (a boy!), starting kindergarten(!!), getting us all through 10-20 colds/viruses/stomach bugs and 1 potential house move, I think that should be enough.

xoxo and Happy New Year!
Mama