Philadelphia Part 2

We went to see the Liberty Bell. Security there is no joke. They look through all and every bag (even the see-through kind) and they have everyone open their coats so they can see inside. There is no way they will let you out the entrance way. They were wholly unimpressed by my kids being junior rangers (rats!).

It was really neat to see the bell. I think it would have felt more awesome if everyone in the place were using their inside voices, but hey, it was still neat. I love being in places where what has happened there seems to seep in and speak to your soul, especially when extraordinarily wonderful things happened there---the Constitution, the Declaration of Independence, a bell standing for life, liberty, and happiness.

It seems to be another testament that we have a Heavenly Father that loves us so much to give men the insight, determination, and courage to stand for liberty and establish a government based on good, true principles. Each morning growing up saying the Pledge of Allegiance each morning it felt as if I was giving the whole country a big hug--because most days ;) I meant every word.

Hunger stuck like a clapper in a bell. We went to the building nearby that boasted a food court. We got pizza. R had suddenly reached the end of his patience (which happens to all of us when we are crazy hungry or tired). He decided that he would sit on the ground by the pizza place with a huge frown on his face.

Determined to let him have his moment of self-time-out I sat with S and T at a nearby table. He sat there for a good 10 minutes and I had gotten T out of the stroller to eat. I saw the pizza man looking down and talking to him. R gave him an instant of eye contact and no more. Realizing this could be hurting the man's business I reinstalled T into the stroller (pathetic tears and all--can't have him run away while I talk to R) went over and talked with R. He told me he was hungry and that I didn't listen to him. He said I only paid attention to S and T and never to him. :( He said I hadn't even asked him what he wanted to eat.

I determined with him that I would pay more attention to him and he just needed to tell me what he really wanted to eat so I could see if we had money for it. We went and ate a little pizza and some pudding. Then we walked over to the shops. I only had $2 cash on me at that point. I told him that is what he could spend.

He went, of course, to the pastry shop. We looked at the pastries for a good 10 minutes before we noticed something crawling on some of them. There was a cock roach in with the pastries (a baby one albeit). We told the lady at the counter--I don't think she really understood us well at first. Finally when she figured out there was a bug in there she took out one small column of pastries and attempted to get the roach with a rag. We coached her (which helped but may have made the poor lady feel even more uncomfortable).

R had apparently decided the roach meant nothing, but after seeing it crawl over half the pastries in the window I had determined it may be better to get something elsewhere. We discussed the fact that we were not interested in eating a stray bug (or it's tracks) and went back to the Independence Center, got a toasted bagel with butter, and watched the Independence movie.

During the movie S decided she needed a bagel too, threw a small fit, and fell promptly to sleep in my arms. T decided it was time to run and ran around the theater (I attempted to get S into the stroller so I could capture and hold T but it was nearly impossible. Some guy was standing close to the stroller and I was a little worried about leaving S and my purse. T was in eyesight, so I wasn't too worried. Sorry for our family rudeness people watching the movie with us.

One lady started clapping during the movie when Abigail Adams said we women need rights to voice our opinion and that they had better put it into the Constitution and that if they did not we would be stubborn and brutal so we would get our way eventually (which I am grateful for). I did not clap. . . I felt grateful.

Oftentimes when I see women fighting voraciously for womens rights and such they make we women seem like men--I love our rights--I would fight for them too, but I don't want to be a man. I love being a mother and I feel like women can do more good as mothers than those that are out spending their entire lives fighting for gallant causes. Motherhood is the most gallant cause ever. I feel like many of these women look down on mothers that don't work full time or engage in politics as subordinates because we don't see things as they do. . . and then there are women who claim to be for womens rights that are just ducky with pornography and such---which makes a woman seem an awful lot like an object of lust--not a person that values herself.

Stepping off the soapbox, pardon me.

W called soon after that to inform us he was finished (delighted cheer). I stopped my mind when into autopilot and I assumed T was in the stroller for a brief minute as I talked. Suddenly I realized S was in the stroller and T was nowhere in sight.

My brain screeched, "Noooooooooo." My eyes searched the entire place. I had been watching the doors so I know he did not exit the building. Up the ramp. . . . .RUN. . .T had run about 200-300 feet ahead of us laughing and giggling. . . why is it toddlers never sense the seriousness of the situation? Do not let those little legs fool you, they can run like the wind.

I did not put him down until we got to the car. . . silly autopilot needed rewiring. I blame it on the lack of sleep. Three and a half hours of sleep with a 2-hour-drive, sight-seeing, lunch, fits, etc. and any body's autopilot may need an overhaul.

I got one after we had walked the eight blocks back to the car, loaded, up and left with W (I got to sleep for 45 glorious minutes). We got home and I relaxed.

Philadelphia Part 1

Today Wayne took one of the major tests of medical school. We were really worried and he studied very hard and we prayed exceedingly fervently. We will not find out the test results for awhile, but until then we will continue praying.

We got up at 4 am. For some odd reason I still am having a bit of trouble getting to sleep at night until a very late hour (well after 12, usually). Last night was no exception and I was the designated driver. Yay!

The kids of course woke up the minute I got them into their coats with the prospect of the bitter cold (feels like 8 degrees F). S talked to me all the way to the car. Pretty much we put them in the car in their jammies. They stayed awake for about an hour and chatted with me until we got to the part of the highway where it splits and I got into the wrong lane and had to wait for about 100 cars to drive by before I could get into the right lane.

It started out with a lot of excitement but by the time we actually reached Philadelphia (about 1.5-2 hours) they wanted to go home.

We had a glorious time waiting at 7-11 until Wayne was ready for his test.
We dropped him off. T started wailing the minute W started getting ready to go. W walked up the steps and R turned and said to me, "Mom, he's done."

I acted like I totally believed him and I said, "He is?!?"
Then S said, "Yes--with the steps."

After that we went to find a place to park and ended up driving around all of the historical district. We went to breakfast at McDonalds (which I don't normally do). S had to go the bathroom immediately and at first they told me there was no way they could let us use the bathroom unless we had purchased food. I promised faithfully that we would buy food, but she didn't believe me until she saw S (she was probably dancing).

It was the dingiest Golden Arches I have ever been in. It had a sign on the wall that said something towards the effects of, "Loitering is prohibited. Paying customers may stay 20 minutes." It is almost as if they are saying, "Welcome to our restaurant. Please leave."
Please leave."

After we made a stop at the Kmart to pick up some more snack food we headed to Independence Center and Hall. R and S had a glorious time doing the ranger booklet. R was thrilled to receive a golden badge that read "National Parks Ranger" "Independence." S patiently wrote a lot of the things and then had me write a little. Normally they don't give packets to 4-year-olds so she felt pretty special.

When the lady ranger handed R the badge he was beaming, until he noticed it was plastic. To which he replied to the ranger, "I want one like yours."

She smiled disconcertingly--shocked at his supposed ingratitude (he believed from the beginning he would be a true ranger--after all he took the oath). Then she said, "You can get one like this when you grow up."

When we walked away he said, "Mom, you need to do one of those booklets, then you can get a badge."

I explained, "Would you want me to live and work here while you lived in Brooklyn?"

He looked at me perplexedly and said, "No."

I continued, "They don't give grown-ups badges unless they are going to work here. We can get more of the badges you got today at other places around Manhattan and Brooklyn. OK?"

I do not think our conversation alleviated much of his determination. I asked him if he wanted to work as a ranger when he grew up, he said, "I don't know, maybe."

Christmas Party

Christmas away from extended family can feel lonely, depressing, and overwhelming (does that sound like an ad for depression medication? Come on, I know you can here the pathetic music in the background and the scene in black and white).

This year, some good friends invited us over for a Christmas day party (color returns--music is super cheerful and happy--like my marvelous time at the Christmas Party).

To me, it felt like I was with family. Sure I don't have any great childhood stories with these people, but it felt so warm and welcoming. Each moment was enjoyable.

The 10-11 year old girls pulled S aside and put their Christmas gift of make-up on her (make-up=happiness to S). They did her hair. They played house. . . bliss for S.

Later the 10-12 year old boys showed up. They brought video games. . . bliss for R.

Everyone gleefully kept an eye out for T and his boyish-stroller (I painted the pink polka dots dark blue) zipping through the hallways. They smiled even when he kept pushing it into their legs--over and over again. They smiled when he turned off the karaoke machine (I rushed to rescue the situation--as did Cherry and others. They smirked gleefully as he emptied half of the water tank onto the floor (thanks to all those that helped clean that up). In short. . .bliss for R.

Thank you to Nancy, for singing with me. Thank you to Cherry and dear family! The food was delectable and the company divine. Bliss for M.

(Please note: spending time with friends can cause happiness, laughter, gladness, cheer, and in 99.99999 percent of the cases does not cause death. Drive with care after attending--your smile maybe so big your eyes may squint so much to make it so you can not see well--like me when I laugh and the picture of R below--which I adore).

Ummmmm

Note to self:

A healthy serving size of Almond Roca (or any other other Christmas candy) is NOT a whole canister.


Maybe just the nuts. Rinsed.


Ughhhhhh.

Brooklyn Children's Museum

About a month ago my friend Kristin Taylor and I took our kidlets to the Brooklyn Children's Museum. It was so fun for them (and it was nice to have some adult chatting time). There were 2 sandboxes, fish tanks, reading nooks, act like gophers, a toddler grocery store (complete with real looking food--do not go hungry), a pizzeria (fake food), post office, travel agency, Mexican bakery, and a MTA bus. In short toddler/little kid heaven.

When we got there S had just been rudely awoken and refused for a stroller ride and was loudly expressing her displeasure with rolling tears. We walked in the door and she stood by it a moment longer wailing. Then she stepped toward what I think she thought was me and was still hollering. Only, it wasn't me, it was a peeved mother (peeved for several reasons, I believe). Suddenly that mother reached her breaking point and screamed at S "WILL YOU STOP SCREAMING BY MY SLEEPING BABY?!!!"

Yes, I felt the heat rise to my face and the boiling on my insides. . . but for some odd and blessed reason I was toooooooo angry to talk to the woman and pulled S aside to calm her (for the nth try). Maybe it was the rudeness of the woman, but S snapped out of it in a matter of minutes and began to look at things in a somewhat calmer light (note to parents--those minutes can seem like hours).

It is hard to realize when A: you have no children and B: your children are not older (so you assume the mother of the child in question has complete control of her child at all times, even when they are not-calm-able) that other children are NOT perfect and therefore at times may feel the need to vent for extended periods of time. To parents-to-be, parents-of-young-babies, parents-with-older-children, people-with-no-children-and-no-desire-whatever-to-be-parents I say:

CHILDREN HAVE MINDS OF THEIR OWN. It is a scientific impossibility to have complete control over every situation every moment of any day. Kids can be jovial and sweet one instant and rude and scathing the next. . . don't be too shocked if you should notice this in nearby children. This is only amplified if (like S) they are over-tired, hungry, and a bit sluggish for a few moments.

To that dear mother that hollered at my crying child. . . just you wait. You'll see [Evil laugh--followed by a subdued sigh].

Most likely my favorite moment of the day was on the way home. It was raining rats and roaches (of which, there are many more in NYC than cats and dogs--but please, I did not mean literally--it was truly only rain).
















Pierson, my friend's son is very affectionate towards R. Probably because they are both boyish boys (trains, cars, NO dolls, etc.). He was giving ample amounts of brotherly hugs and kisses on the side of his head. R let it go for a few moments and then ducked his head and screeched, "Stop kissing me."

The stopping commenced followed by a small awkward silence.

S coyly offered, "You can kiss me."

Oh, dear. Four years old and already having the kissing conversation. . . .

"Maybe Christmas Doesn't Come From a Store"

Last week in Relief Society (a group of women, in our Church, in the area) Ashley Jensen talked about this talk by Elder Holland entitled "Maybe Christmas Doesn't Come from a Store."

Interestingly enough, I wasn't there but I have heard a lot of good things about her lesson (with a wonderful recap from my visiting teacher, Martha) and decided I had better read the talk myself. It was actually before Elder Holland was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve.
For some reason it really struck a chord and seemed to speak to my soul. Maybe you'd like to read it.What was your favorite part?
I really liked how he related the pressures that Joseph and Mary must have felt(especially knowing that the babe was Jesus, the Savior of the World), yet they had the courage and determination to press forward and do what the Lord had asked. I think of how it was when I had my kids and I feel like I did the best I possibly could to ensure they would be born in ideal circumstances.
The pictures are really old child-wise (if you couldn't tell). The first one is the kids holding a pile of animals they would have loved to have taken home. The second is for the "why" effect, but also for the toys and books in the background (as in--Christmas is not all about stuff). The last one pleads for the writer/reader of this post to think about Elder Holland's talk, sleep on it and then arise and act.

Love to Laugh

This clip was made in July. Don't I have an awesome brother?! We love you Gary!

T is laughing non-stop.

Y M C A Interview

You know what happens when you get to thinking, "I think it would be cool to . . ." I thought it would be really cool to watch for a short time or an extended amount of time to watch a crew film something and to watch or participate in a real interview process for filming media. It's not that I want me or any member of my family to be a movie star--I don't think I would like fame. Admittedly the idea of fortune is . . . [you can now imagine a grand rendition of "If I were a Rich Man"] . . . nice.

I thought for sure I would get my opportunity to do both since S was asked to audition and then to participate in a filming of a YMCA Family commercial-ish thing. Call me corny, but the idea of taking care of my kid and watching this at the same time was somehow appealing. So we did it.

Did we get a whopper pay check in the mail? Well, if you consider the $50 travel stipend a whopper pay check--sure. I think that would be a Jim Dandy hunk of cash for a 4-year-old.

After outfit inspection from the head honchos and the sub-head honchos we waited for a brief period playing the regular keep-your-child-quiet-they-are-filming-downstairs-games. A hushed version of "I Spy" and the hand game "Here is the Church, Steeple, People" as well as a grand drawing that looked like a pop-version of the torch the Statue of Liberty holds (from S). They called us downstairs for S's interview. We sat in the room in which we normally research for them (for a story and $25 travel stipend).
Then after they called "CUT" and it seemed like the entire building let out a breath it was holding the aptly named outfitting person came to S and found some odd paper towel or napkin with which to wipe her face (oops-I forgot). Then they told me to wait in the room 20 feet from the filming place and I waited. Sometimes my non-timid side slaps me in the face with, "Hello, this is your conscience speaking--don't you want to ask if you can watch it be filmed? Wasn't that the idea all along?" Drat! Please excuse my strong language.

S saw the snack table for the people working there and immediately gravitated to it after her hard work (a 3-minute-interview) was complete. She immediately inquired if it was for her and then if she could have some. She began to reach in to take a complete bowl of grapes. I stopped her, grabbed a napkin and attempted to get the ones she had touched. Knowing they were striving to squeeze 20 kids into a two-hour-filming chunk of time we promptly thanked all of them we could and left the building.

Oops, I forgot to mention that as we were leaving the first room the guidance counselor through this, Melanie Pal, also known as some sort of producer (and really nice) told me that S is very polite--(secret high five to myself).

We then walked over and saw Santa at the South Street Seaport Mall. Santa gave the great Santa speech and then some to S. Then as we were walking away S turned around ran back to him and gave him a big hug. Silly camera wouldn't start up again in time. After that we watched a choir called the Big Apple Chorus. S fell asleep right before they started singing and I began to feel like being home with my family singing around the piano would be a dream come true right about now.

Nooooooooooooooo. . . . .

When recently trying to revamp my blog I lost a lot of the links to my dear friends both in Brooklyn and UT/ID. I just wanted to let you know they should be back up pretty soon!