Sunny Side Up

The highlight of my day was when I went into the girls' room this morning. We shut their door to block noise (from both sides) and Abby hasn't yet mastered opening it, so when I hear either child in the morning, I go in. Today Abby greeted me at the door, saying, "Evie's awake and she's singing to me!" Sure enough, Evie was happily cooing away. What a nice way to start the day.

Don't Nominate Me

I really won't be winning Mom of the Year in 2010.

Last week, I walked a couple of steps out the door in order to clean out our vacuum filter. Abby, who like many toddlers loves routine, shut the door behind me and locked it. Not just the knob lock, the deadbolt. She has obviously picked up on our family's incessant door-locking. I stared through the window at Evangeline lying on the floor, and hollered, "ABBY! OPEN THE DOOR!" Her response was, of course, "Why?"

"Because if you don't, I'm going to spank your bottom!" (Yes, I know that wouldn't work. I was a little frantic.)

She did eventually get the deadbolt unlocked, with help from a stool and despite her mother's raucous wrath and muttered imprecations. I was still really mad when I finally got in, and she got a lecture (but not a spanking). It's hard to explain to a two and a half year old child why she shouldn't lock the door when Mommy leaves.

Later that day, I was emptying our paper shredder, which Abby loves to help with. I got all the shreds into a plastic bag, and as she grabbed it, told Abby to "go put it by the front door." She took off down the hallway to our bedroom instead. Frustrated, I yelled that she had three seconds to put the bag by the front door, or (there's a theme here) I would swat her bottom.

"One! . . . Two! . . ."

Abby cheerfully yelled back, "Three!"

Obviously, that method is not effective. I stomped down the hall and administered the swat. She cried. I started to explain why I was angry, when a little voice in the back of my head pondered, "Does she know where the front door is?" Guess what? She didn't. We played a fun game of Run to the Door (Where's Abby's door? Where's the closet door?), and now she knows.

This is the main reason I'm not winning. If I've talked to you lately, I've probably moaned and groaned about how Evangeline doesn't sleep through the night and is generally a grouch. Every night, she would wake up at least once and scream for at least an hour before going back to sleep. This did not make for a happy Mommy. Talking to a friend a few days ago, she mentioned that her son gets cold in their 68 degree apartment at night, so she puts socks and a onesie on under his pajamas. Our apartment is kept colder than that. I decided to dress Evie warmer that evening. When Regis got home, however, I learned another important lesson. Evangeline screamed and screamed and would not be comforted, so Regis decided to try and feed her. She ate about twice what we normally feed her at night before she finally stopped yelling. That night, she slept like an angel. The next day, I consciously tried to feed her more than I usually do, and guess what? She was an angel baby ALL DAY. So no, it wasn't just that she was teething, although she does now have two sharp ones. Evangeline was grouchy and sleepless because she was tired of living on a mere subsistence diet. Guess how that makes me feel? In a word: STUPID.

Don't go outside without your keys. Make sure she knows what you're talking about before you punish her. And maybe try feeding the baby once in a while.

Motherhood is meant to make me humble, I guess.

Production Floor

Let's start determining productivity by how messy the house is. That way my day has already been amazingly successful.

I love you. Now let go.

Evangeline is in a very frustrating stage. She's driving me absolutely bonkers. She has this misconception that she is my only child, as well as the only thing I have to pay attention to all day.

So here's me, bumbling along, trying to get Abby potty trained, the house clean, my calling done, the dishes put away, and all my other little ducks in a row. I carry Evangeline around, tucked in one arm, until I run out of things I can do with only one hand. Then I attempt to set her down, on a comfy blanket, with lots of diverting toys.

Evie: "WAH! MOM! I AM SO ANGRY! PICK ME UP IMMEDIATELY!"

Me: "Look, Evie, what I'm doing isn't really thrilling for you, and I need both hands to-"

Evie: "WAAAAAH! THE FLOOR IS LAVA AND IT BURNS!"

Me: "Oh, for heaven's sake!"

Abby: "Oh, fow 'eaven sake!"

Abby's stage is a bit less frustrating. She likes to repeat what I say, and to ask why. And she at least sleeps through the night.

Babies!

This is Evangeline with her cousin Alice, in their Christmas outfits. We love Alice. Her eyes always make her look like she's fascinated by you, which is of course very flattering. Yet another example of someone we love who we wish lived closer. :)

Once there was a snowcave, snowcave, snowcave . . .

After Abby and Evangeline each had some turns on the sled, we repurposed it as a snow shovel and built ourselves a lovely snowcave. It was probably the most fun I've had in the snow as an adult. I guess it's not all bad. :)

Miriam

This is my friend Miriam, and I think she should write a book about herself because I would love to read it. In fact, I would love to pre-order that sucker right now. She used to be my neighbor, and if it weren't for the increasingly evident fact that we're outgrowing this apartment, I would try to convince her to move back.

. . . Gimme an "N"! What does it spell? Extortion!

Dear Grandpa,

Abby really needs a cheerleading outfit.

Compliments to the Chef

This morning I was delighted to hear Abby, unprompted, remark, "Yummy french toast, Mommy. Thank you, Mommy!" I'm pretty sure that means we're doing something right.

Even if that something is just the way I cook the toast.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

My new assignment in church is to "edit" the newsletter for the Relief Society, the women's organization. The RS president encouraged me to "put [my] personality into it."

Bless their hearts. I think they will be glad that I didn't.

Christmas

I hope you had a wonderful, merry Christmas. It was wonderful to be with my family.

Unfortunately, there was a terrible tragedy in my extended family on Christmas Day. My cousin's baby son passed away. Please please remember not to leave any baby unattended on a soft surface, especially with pillows or other soft items around, even if he or she has never moved around or rolled before.

Snowmen

Here are Abby and Regis with their "'nowmens," as Abby calls them.

See PROFESSIONAL, A5

Our local paper recently reported that "the economy sucks." On the front page. Another reporter referred to women whose "hair is always perfectly quaffed." The second I find amusing; the first is reprehensible. If this is the quality of writing we can expect from newspapers, perhaps their demise is not as tragic as I've been led to believe.

Brrrr!

I got stuck in the snow for the first time on Sunday night. It was an interesting experience. I felt pretty embarrassed, and more than a little helpless. Luckily, I was in a neighborhood where probably 75% of the residents are in my ward. A couple of nice brothers pushed me out. When I got home and told the story to Regis, Abby was listening and had a good time repeating "Mommy 'tuck inna 'now!"

I'm ready to go to California for Christmas. It's supposed to get up to 60 degrees there tomorrow. The high for Provo today is lower than the low for my hometown.

Kids these days!

I just heard the following on the radio:

"Getting into the single digits now--it's supposed to be 11 degrees tonight!"

Someone needs to find that man's parents and elementary school teachers and slap them.

Fun with Fire Alarms

As I was cooking dinner this evening, I set off the fire alarm. Because I'm that good.

The fire alarm is situated right between the two rooms where Abigail and Evangeline were napping.

NEITHER OF THEM WOKE UP.

Should I be worried, or just feel really really blessed? :)

Hazards of Parenthood

If you are a fervent admirer of my brother, Court, you've probably already read about his dumpster diving experience. For the benefit of the rest of you, I'll summarize: My mom entrusted to Court the Christmas stocking she had painstakingly designed, sewn, beaded, and embroidered for Evangeline, adjuring him to take good care of it and deliver it safely to me. You can imagine his horror when, on his way to our place for his birthday dinner, he couldn't find the stocking anywhere. After an exhaustive search, he was forced to conclude that someone had thrown it away. Disregarding his distaste, he dared the depths of the dumpster, digging through the discarded detritus until he discovered, despite delay, the decked out decoration. And it wasn't even dirty.

Well. This evening, on my way to go grocery shopping, I looked around for my phone. Considering we had given the apartment a thorough cleaning earlier in the day, it should have been easy to find. It wasn't. I searched, Regis searched. We checked the car, the creases of the couch, all pockets, Abby's room . . . . Nope. Finally, Regis wondered if it could have fallen into one of the storage totes he'd taken to our storage unit. As he went out the door to check, I half-jokingly suggested he call my phone and stand outside the dumpster, too, with Court's experience in mind. If you have any prescience at all, you know the rest. Evidently Abby, who has something of a passion for boxes, had dropped my phone into the empty box of baby wipes, which she then helped Regis carry out to the dumpster with the rest of the garbage.

So, as a warning to the rest of my family: If you can't find it anywhere, you know where to look.

It's in the Blood

Abby's paternal grandfather farmed for many years. (We designate him as Grandpapa, as opposed to her maternal grandfather, Grandmapa. Regis' grandmother is therefore Grandpapama to Abby, which we love.) His mother, Grandpapama, still herds cows on her property. Well, I don't think she actually does the herding, although it puts a smile on my face to imagine this fiesty, 80-something-year-old woman smacking a few cows around.

Last week, we took the girls to the Thanksgiving Point Farm Country, and Abby just had a BLAST. Stupidly, we forgot to bring the camera, so all we have to remember it by are some fuzzy pictures on Regis' phone. (If you know how we can download those, let me know.) However, we didn't repeat the error on Saturday when we took her to see my uncle Glenn's chickens, and she was similarly delighted to feed them bread and even collect the eggs. She got a little nervous inside the henhouse, what with the chickens clucking and sneaking around and the roosters chasing the hens, but she had a good time.

With that kind of influence from both sides, we expect her to be a full-fledged farmer in a few years.

Abigail and Evangeline

My Little Gourmand

So you think your child has strange eating habits? You've already heard about the bamboo shoots, but try these on for size: raw cubes of butternut squash, and plain fresh cilantro.