Gravity

I've heard it before: "It's no use crying over spilled milk." Well, what about crying over a shattered glass of Diet Coke splattered all over my kitchen counter, floor, cupboards, walls, and rug? I'm hoping that I am justified in at least a few tears of frustration especially considering that this is probably the tenth time this has happened over the last few months. It hasn't always been Diet Coke, mind you. We've had apple juice (an entire gallon at one point), Sprite, Gatorade, and Diet Coke creating a sticky, icky mess all over my house. (Unfortunately for my kitchen rug, no water.) I'm down more than I care to know in glassware and I'm sick and tired of having to play Twister in my kitchen as I try to maneuver around an ever-expanding waistline. Why is it that pregnant women have to deal with clumsiness along with all the other inconveniences? It's just been one of those days/weeks. Grrr.

Getting Ready

I know that I was originally a little skeptical about having a boy...but I think I've finally begun to be excited about the little guy. After spending several years immersed in the pinks and purples of the world I decided to devote some time to the blues and greens. Here's my first official baby blanket for "Junior". It was so much fun to make and it turned out so cute! Big thanks go out to Holly, my quilting guru, for her invaluable advice. It's somewhat of a relief to know that he won't have to go out in public wrapped up in any of the girl's old blankets. Whew! 

Curses!

Welcome to the battle of "happy supportive wife" vs. "irritatingly geeky husband". Ian has been pestering me (in a good-natured way, of course) for over a year to let him replace our home computer (previously a PC) with an Apple Mac Mini. I fought it tooth-and-nail for quite some time. I finally caved just before Christmas...mainly because I want to get a new kitchen table and figured a little "scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" might help my cause.

Fast forward a couple months. I have tried. Really and truly I have. I have stepped outside of my comfort zone and I feel like I've made a herculean effort to like (and use) this new computer. But today...I'm ready to take this teeny tiny geeky silver box and smack Ian over the head with it. AARRGH! Meanwhile it is quite depressing to know that, at least in TV world, I am portrayed as the goofy suit-wearing nerd and Ian gets to be the cool dude. Blast that darn marketing strategy!

And no...I still don't have a new kitchen table.

Grateful

I usually don't feel compelled to share too many of my own personal thoughts on my blog...somehow it seems a little easier to be cynical than sincere. But I've been thinking about a recent challenge issued by Elder Ballard and this seemed a perfect opportunity.

I'm not the most eloquent person, particularly when it comes to expressing my feelings, but there are a few simple things I'm grateful for today. I'm grateful that our Heavenly Father loves us enough to provide us with prophets who lead, teach, and inspire us to live lives that will help us return to Him. I'm grateful to know that today Gordon B. Hinckley has returned to live with our Father in Heaven and our Savior, Jesus Christ. I'm also thankful to know that he has been reunited with his sweet wife. I'm grateful to know that the role of prophet and seer will not end with his passing. I know that the Lord will continue to direct the lives of his people through the leaders of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and a new prophet will be called for these days and times.

President Hinckley's example has taught me many things over the last several years. I've learned a lot about the power of love, the importance of humor, and the joy of life. I can only hope and pray that I will remember these lessons even as the daily grind of this world tries to make me forget. But for today...I'm simply grateful for a man whose life was lived in the service of others. Thank you, President Hinckley.

Five Years Already?

It's hard to believe that we have a 5-year old in the house! Lindy was so incredibly excited about having a birthday. Never one to walk away from attention, she thoroughly enjoyed having a day that was all about her. She really, REALLY, wanted to have a birthday party this year. I was hesitant...the thought of a houseful of little girls running around seemed somewhat daunting. But, our Lindy is nothing if not persistent so we ended up having a Hello Kitty birthday party on Saturday. It was actually a lot of fun. Her little friends were so cute (not to mention well-behaved). We played a couple games, ate pizza, had cake, and opened presents. What's not to like about that?

Happy birthday, Lindy! You have kept us on our toes and tested our parenting abilities more than we thought possible, but we feel so lucky to have you in our family. We love you so much!

Father Of The Bride: Part I

I very nearly blew out my sinuses by snorting Diet Coke up, through, and out of my nose. For some reason, as I was in the middle of a rather tasty glass of ice cold caffeinated goodness, Ian decided it was an appropriate time to speak to our 4- almost 5-year old about his newly established rules for dating. He called Lindy over to him and proceeded to inform her than she cannot date until she's 16 but, in addition to that, she will not be allowed to date the same guy two times in a row. She will have to go on a date with someone else in between. Now...I'm not saying that it's a bad rule. I'm not even saying that I won't actually try to enforce stricter rules of my own at some point. However...the look of pure confusion on that little girls face almost made me spew like I've never spewed in my life. Luckily the beverage made it down the right venue and I was able to breathe, however labored, through several minutes of good old-fashioned laughter. We have been provided with further proof that Ian will be giving Steve Martin a run for his money during Lindy's future dating life. Wish her luck.

What Kind Of Home Training Is That?

Earlier today I helped Lindy put together a puzzle of Mickey Mouse and friends. She was very proud of her accomplishment and has left it on the counter all day because she wants to show her dad.

I walked into the kitchen later on to find her staring intently at the picture. She then announces, "Daisy is the boss of Donald and Minnie is the boss of Mickey." Of course I have to get to the root of that one and ask, "Why do you say that?" She then informs me, "Because you're the boss of daddy. Moms are always the bosses."

Should I have disagreed with her?

The Enforcer

I've spent quite a bit of time today trying to teach Lindy that she is not in charge of her little sister and I would appreciate it if she'd let me be the mom. I feel like I've been drilling it into her for hours upon hours. This evening I started to get after Ellie for getting into things she wasn't supposed to. In the middle of my parenting moment Lindy began to lecture as well. After a deep, soul-reinforcing sigh:

Me: "Lindy, you are not the mom."

Lindy: "I'm not trying to be the mom, I'm just trying to help you be the boss."

So apparently the child now thinks she's my sidekick. Now if Robin could just figure out how to help Batman take care of some of the cleaning, cooking, and other tasks around here we'd be set!

Parenting Is NOT For Sissies!

Now, I think it's only fair to my kids to acknowledge that I'm fully aware that I've never been what you would call a laid-back parent. The self-diagnosed OCD often has the upper hand in any and all parenting. I'm not the mom who lets her kids pull out the paints, markers, play-doh, scissors, glue, or other mess-making paraphernalia unless extremely closely supervised. I typically don't let them run around out-of-doors, particularly if there's a chance that snow, mud, sand, or other children will end up coming back indoors with them. It's even difficult for me to let them step out of the house without their hair done and their clothes clean (and matching). I cringe inwardly (sometimes outwardly) when my children aren't as polite, respectful, quiet or well-behaved as I believe they should be in any given situation. So, needless to say, much of the stress of being a mom is probably self inflicted.

This morning I decided that the Lord sent Lindy into our home as a contradiction to all of the above-mentioned reasons. (To be fair, I should say that I will probably feel the same way about Ellie given time.) In spite of the instruction, lectures, threats, and begging I still seem to find drawings on my walls, furniture, and TV. I mysteriously find nail polish on my bathroom counter, floor, and toilet. I still endure screaming, hitting, and crying fits in response to even the simplest request (i.e. can you please clean up that wrapper you just threw on the floor?) And...I consistently find myself saying things I swore I'd never say. "Just you wait until your father gets home", "Because I said so", and "Would you like me to give you something to cry about?"

This just means that at the end of each and every day I sit back and try to determine where I went wrong. I try to pinpoint the exact moment of departure from the well-constructed plan I had laid out for the day. I then determine the "new plan" for tomorrow...which ends up chuck-full of new methods and tricks. I vow to be more patient. I tell myself that I'll be more loving and understanding. I promise to pay more attention to the kids and less attention to whatever personal treats I've had in store for myself. Some days my plan is to have no plan at all. So far...nothing works. Each evening produces the same results: a frazzled, irritated, and confused mom and two misunderstood, dramatic, and often crying girls.

I was once told that being a parent would be one of my most challenging responsibilities. Well, here we are. Challenged.