Ah, Spring

I think it may have finally stopped snowing. (It snowed last week. LAST WEEK.)

These are some of the results of my attempt to take cute pictures of the girls in their matching shirts that Auntie Brook gave them. I have lots of mom friends who have photography businesses. They stay my friends because, wisely, they do not fear competition from me.

Evie has two favorite games.

One is called "Try and pull up on everything." This is played just like it sounds.

The other is called "Mommy puts things in a box and Evie takes or dumps them out." It's very complex, and I don't have room to describe the rules here. But be assured, it does not matter what box is involved, or what the contents are. Evangeline is very versatile in her amusements.

And despite the fact that the nearest volcano is 150 miles away, not to mention extinct, the floor is still lava.

Evie Takes a Stand

Last night, Evangeline pulled herself up on Abby's wagon 'o blocks. She stood there for perhaps ten minutes and was absolutely delighted with herself.

Spring/Easter

Some Hatchings Hurt

I remember throwing a fit when I was a child, for some reason I can't recall, when my mother was helping me write in my journal and committed the heinous sin of writing the date on the page. I have no way of knowing why that was so upsetting, but I know I screamed and cried and scrubbed out the ink with an eraser before I was done. (I'm anticipating with delight similar episodes with my own children. Poor Mom.)

I'm feeling appallingly mediocre tonight. It seems like I can't do anything really well. (Please don't compliment me; this isn't a fishing trip.) I tried to explain this to Regis, and jumped down his throat when he tried to make me feel better, so I get to add "wife" to that list too. Earlier we talked about why so many great painters, writers, etc. were depressed, and I theorized that content people rarely try to change things. I'm hoping that this means my brain is gearing up to do something great. Like come up with the magic answer for potty training, perhaps.

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.