Night One

Goal: Get T to sleep in his crib in the kid's room

Ways to accomplish goal:

• clean room (Herculean task)
• bedtime routine
• sit while he cries until he goes to sleep
  
• go out victorious

So tonight was night one of the separation. I don't know how the rest of the evening will play out but I can tell you how the bedtime part went. I got the room clean (thunderous applause) because I cannot sit in there in all those clothes and misplaced toys that the kids accumulate covering the entire floor without going mad. :) Now it is relatively clean. YAY!

After we did our routine I gave T a quick hug and set him in the crib fully expecting him to holler and cry for a good half hour at the very least. Nah--not tonight anyway--he snuggled under the blankets, inserted his thumb and went promptly to sleep. Nice.

Random

Today when I was walking to do my last minute visiting teaching when I saw this guy. He looked like Goliath's hairy first cousin once removed (as in David and Goliath and removed because he was skinny).

I felt like shouting "Hey, how's the weather up there?"

As we walked closer I assumed my glasses shielded my gaze and thought as I stared, "How tall is that guy?"

Now, this is the weird part, he must have seen my face and somehow assumed I was staring and laughing in my head because as I walked by he leaned down toward me (and just for those who don't know me, I am not three feet high, but felt so) and with a high pitched voice said, "Ha, ha, ha."

Awkward.

Just a quick note on prayer.

When I was in college at BYU in Provo my roommates and I made it a goal that every morning (or so) we would have roommate prayer--meaning we would all get together and pray--like family prayer. I was known for my marathon prayers--that would go on and on . . . .and on. I think on one occasion I even had one of my roommates come to me and tactfully show me the scripture 3 Nephi 19:24 (scroll down). It talks about not using a lot of words when we pray.

Well dear roommates (and they really are dear!) you'll be happy to know most of my prayers are now under a minute--sometimes under thirty seconds--thanks to three excellent reasons (namely, R, S, and T). Hopefully they are just, if not more, heartfelt.

Dear roommates:
Thank you for your patience and kindness.
Reflectively yours,
M

Three kids and a museum

Yesterday my brother and I took the kids and went to the American Museum of Natural History in Manhattan. It was for my bro, rather an eye-opener to the joys of parenthood and the amount of energy it takes to be a parent. By the time we got there we were both tired and somehow everyone was starving, even though I packed a multitude of snacks, so we went to the cafeteria and had some food. It was delightful to see the displays, chase children, act like we were getting eaten by giant mosquitoes, talk through tantrums, feed the hungry--again, make faces at the masks, take pictures, and stroll the baby.

On the way home I forgot which station to change trains and we switched trains four times instead of two. By that time I was exceedingly exhausted and the only thing I could do to keep S awake was to read a story as animatedly as possible--I swear half the car was listening. Of course some people rolled their eyes and acted as if I was an idiot, but hey, that seems to come with the territory. I don't care as long as I can keep my kids awake long enough to get them home to sleep. I love reading. I love reading out loud. I love the feeling that when you are reading you are giving their imagination a ride on the express envision train. I love to have people feel like when I am reading to them they can see everything that I am reading happening in their minds. Does that make sense? I feel like as a mom, I can do this every day!

I think I got that from my Mom and Dad and the neighbor across the road. My Mom and Dad would read to us--and have us read to them. My Dad's favorite thing to say was, "Loud and fast, M. Read it loud and fast." Our neighbor across the road is a drama director/teacher at BYU-Idaho and whenever he read or spoke it was like it was like he felt that every word was a piece of delicious German chocolate and every word was to be tasted delicately and thoughtfully; almost as if it were a sin to snarf it all down without a second thought.

Anywho--At the end I could not bear to read one more princess story, so, very like my father (who is an expert story teller in my opinion), I told them a story about an ant that lives at the American Museum of Natural History, witnesses a robbery, and solves the crime--and then has to tell the humans about it. It was great. No one on the train where I was sitting was asleep--especially my kids and they went to bed with little difficulty.

Happy St. Patty's Day

When you live in Brooklyn, there seems to be a never ending amount of surprise just waiting to be uncovered. For instance, did you know there was a huge Irish population in NYC and still is apparently.

When I was walking R home from school today with S and T in tow we were passed by a car booming Irish music. The only other time that I have seen this happen is when I was growing up and was passed by one of those cars that was booming distasteful (at least to me) music. Then I would turn the speakers up in my car, turn it to the classical station--which sometimes played Irish music-- and boom it right back (as much as a minivan could, of course). I couldn't help but smile to myself.

There are people all over the place just plastered with green. The high school kids seem to really take this to heart--they are the pride and joy of the area where I live. Green glasses, neon green tight pants, green shirts, headbands, lipstick, eyeshadow, shoes, earrings . . . you get the idea.

We also went to one of my favorite stores, Trader Joes, and they had Irish music playing inside. When I walked to school with one of the other mothers, originally from the Philippines , asked me if I was from Ireland or England because we are so fair. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall . .." :)

For some reason I can't get the Irish accent in my head. Sometime while I am fixing dinner, I plan on using it and fixing something Irish--like green waffles. :) Okay, maybe just green. :)

Just found this clip from the camera. I love R singing. This was one of the songs his kindergarten class sang last year. The next one is R and S painting and eating goofy cookies. The next one is T dancing with Tigger. Then Wayne playing with the kids while they are swinging. T was walking across the park and ran into R's friend Samuel. All of these happened in March of 2009. Blessed. Blessed. Blessed.

T Updates

You cannot tell, but he is hugging R's foot (he likes to hug whatever is available--legs, arms, feet, etc.)

He's my valentine in warm jammies (it was one of the really cold days that our heater wasn't working properly). Oh yeah, our hallway has antiqutious wall paper.

Walking confidently
Says "ca coo" = thank you
"ee-ah"= Nelta (we were trying to find her at her complex and called her name because I didn't know where she lived.
"ah-oh" =R
"uh-oh"= uh-oh
Tries to make sounds like the animals (especially dogs)

Loves to:

• Read books, especially when he can skip to the end, the middle, and the beginning in five seconds or less
• Follow his current parent of choice around the house non-stop
• Crawl under me when I am doing yoga or pilates and then laugh because he thinks he is so clever (I love that)
• Eat yogurt--any kind, any where
• Take R and S's favorite toys for test runs
• When he crawled, crawl around the house with a car in his hand making the car noises upon occasion
  

Has a fit when:

• He is removed from his bath (bath time is really long because he loves it)
• The phone is removed from his grasp when talking to Grandma (he usually gets to talk 2 or 3 times)
• His toy of choice is delegated to someone else (usually when it is not his or not as safe for him).
  
• His nose is soooo stuffy he can't stand it (these are the most miserable)

It is amazing to see how much he is learning and growing. R took the top two photos.

Are You Like This?

Does the morning when you are trying to get your kids off to school or yourself off to work do you feel stressed? This morning it went like this. Do you have your shoes? Do you have your snack? Get it in the bag. Okay, there's the doorbell. I think they are two minutes early. (Open the door-rush down the stairs--open door one--zip up coat--open door two). Then I say kindly, "Please stop hiding behind the door, they've got to go." Then I notice he is backpack-less. "Where is your backpack?!" I start looking around frantically. R looks at me with this you've-got-to-be-kidding sort of look, then says, "It is in your hand."