Thursday, February 28, 2008

Short Stories (for Norah and her posterity)

My oldest, Norah, is at the inquisitive age where everything is new, consuming and dissecting information is paramount, and the skills with which punishment is avoided are polished daily.



Witnessing a child work through information logically, at least the logic they are familiar with, is fascinating. Maybe it stands to reason that only the parent(s) of the child find it fascinating, but this blog was created for my family, so proceed at your own risk.

Story 1.
Norah wants to watch a video, as she approaches the the VCR/DVD player she says, "I need to push the big button on the CTR." I say, "It's a VCR." She says, "I know...remember my VCR ring?"

Story 2.
Each child in Norah's primary class presented a short explanation of where their name came from and how it was chosen. Norah's name came from my grandmother, Norah Bernadine. My grandmother and I were very close and she died when I was 12.
Norah was given a picture of my grandmother for class to use as a visual aid as she told her story. A few days later, as we were eating lunch, Norah was looking at the picture of grandmother Norah. Norah said, "I miss my grandmother, when can I see her?" I say, "Someday you will see her." Norah says, "Did she take care of me when I was a baby?" I say, "No, she died a long time before you were born." Norah asks, "Where is she now?" I tell her, "She is in Heaven." Norah asks if she can call her, I tell her no, there are no phones in heaven. She says, "Doesn't grandma have a cell phone?" I tell her no. She looks perplexed for a while, like this scenario is unbelievable. Finally, she asks, "Doesn't grandma have a purse?"

Story 3.
On the way home from Grandma and Grandpa's a few Sundays ago, we drove by the temple. As we drove by the temple Norah asked me if Heavenly Father was Jesus. I explained to her that they are 2 different people, that Heavenly Father is our Father, and Jesus is His son and our brother. I tell her that They are very similar because They are perfect in Their love for us (or something more understandable to a 4 year old). She asks me if They know her. I tell her that They know her better than anyone knows her. She asks if They know where she lives, I tell her They do. She wants to know if They know which house is hers, I tell her that They watch over her all the time. She then asks if watching over her is kind of like They are babysitting her. I wish, it's hard to come by good babysitters in our neck of the woods.

Story 4.
At breakfast Norah wants to know if Jesus protects us from monsters. I tell her that He does. She then asks if He also protects us from ghosts. I said that He does. She then asks, "Well why doesn't He protect us from the ghost at church?" Just as I was about to ask her "what ghost at church?", I realized she was speaking of the Holy Ghost.

Story 5.






Yesterday, as all 3 children played in the basement, I mopped the kitchen floor. While mopping, I heard a loud crash accompanied by a shattering sound. I ran down the stairs to find a narrow table which displays a plant under the window, tipped over and the plant base broken, with dirt and fertilizer projected a good 3 feet beyond the broken bits of clay. I asked what had happened (it was pretty clear to me that someone had climbed onto the 3 ft. high table and knocked it over, I'm observant and smart like that). I received no answers. I asked who did it. Norah and Lulu yelled, "Abram". Since it was pretty much near impossible that Abram climbed onto the table, I asked the girls again who did it. Norah said, "Lulu did." I asked Lulu if she did it and she said yes. I put her in time out and when time out was over I made her help me clean the mess up. Through all of this Norah watched as Lulu cried.
Later that night, when Brad came home, Brad noticed a large bump and bruise on Norah's arm. He asked me where she got it, and I said I didn't know. We asked Norah where it came from and she hung her head and said, "Momma, I didn't tell you the truth". I sure hope that Lulu forgives me someday.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Update

Last night Abram awoke for his usual early morning temper tantrum. His nightly fit does not begin with a mild whimper or whine and then crescendo into a full blown wail. His howling begins with the intensity of an angry European/South American soccer fan and fails to reach a diminuendo until someone gives in. This someone is usually me.
At 4am this morning, Abram turned a corner and allowed his father to calm and feed him. While Abram gulped down his creamy sedative, he stroked the rugged whiskers of Brad's beard. And to think that just last week I asked Brad how long he planned to keep the goatee (this question was heavy with the implication that he had already kept it too long).
Good thing I have a husband who generally refrains from listening to my implications.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Apologies & A Lustful Declaration

I am sorry about my negligent blogging behavior, but, I am soooo tired. Not just normal pregnancy tired, it is more like an all out "I don't give a rat's @*$" tired.
I began 2 posts with exceedingly high expectations only to reach the halfway point and find I was much more interested in lying on the couch than finishing a story about a merciless storm and valentine's dinner recipes and gifts.
I also need to apologize to my former foe, the highly abused and addictive drug; caffeine. I have had great disdain for you, and have disrespected you all of these years. Although I still do not trust you, and will undoubtedly abandon you after this trying period is over, I am grateful for your strength and forgiveness. Thank you.

Onto the good stuff. As awesome as my husband is, I have taken a lover. We rendezvous as often as possible. I place myself carelessly, in precarious and tempting situations where I am often overcome with desire and lust. This lust consumes my thoughts, day and night. There is a satisfaction that comes from indulging my fantasies and allowing the flesh to be weak. I wish I could say that I am penitent about my baseness, but I am pretty much guilt free.
Of course, I am speaking of the greatest of all lovers; food. Food and I are having a really good time. And boy oh boy, do I have a type. I consistently crave a heavy on the garlic, caesar salad (and I have the breath to prove it).
I have never experienced this sort of lust for food, let alone a salad. It is like I cannot get enough of the romaine, Parmesan, anchovies, and croƻtons. Beyond the garlic, I'm not even sure there is much nutritional value in a caesar salad, but somehow, it satisfies. I wonder what is behind pregnancy cravings? This is the first pregnancy in which I have been consumed by a specific dish for such a lengthy period of time. Am I alone? Was there rhyme or reason to your cravings?

OK, onto a very serious situation. Abram is finally weened, but he is still not sleeping as well as I had hoped. Now that I have finally convinced him that cow's milk is just as delicious as breast milk, he wakes at 3am demanding a full bottle of milk (please don't give me any crap about him using a bottle at 15 months, he knows how to drink out of a cup, he doesn't take a bottle to bed, and he is a small boy who needs his 24 oz. of whole milk anyway he will take it). Because he is small, and because he will actually drink 9 oz. at 3am., I feel pretty guilty about denying him. The problem is I need some sleep. Brad is willing to give him the bottle, but Abram is unwilling to accept the bottle from Brad. Abram has a habit of stroking a lock of my hair while nursing (or bottle feeding). To me, there is an easy solution. Brad just needs to grow a rat's tail off to the side of the neck which can drape over his shoulder in order to provide easy access for Abram's stroking grasp. I know a rat's tail is unsightly, and slightly out of style. And a rat's tail may not be a very professional do, in fact, I don't think I've ever seen any attorneys on Law & Order with a tail, but it would be a small sacrifice for the good of the whole (the whole of course, being me).
So what do you think?



Who votes for a rat's tail?

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Valentine Prayer



On this day set aside to celebrate my love, I fall short.
For true love is not solely for my love,



or for my other loves,







but for all mankind.



So I pray for His perfect love



to someday complete my inadequate heart.
Please replace my pride with humble grace.
Please fill my soul with unconditional warmth and acceptance.
Please bless me with the desire and ability to embrace all without judgment or reservation.

For I have been given more than enough to share, and really, it is all about love.

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

On Voting



This is the disrespect my 'I Voted' sticker received today.

I am familiar with a number of people (I'm not going to name names) who have a cynical, jaded view of politics in this country and choose not to vote. As much as I can empathize with that point of view, I don't subscribe to it. I know that there are many in the state of Utah who choose not to vote because they feel their vote doesn't count because of Utah's redness, I don't subscribe to this point of view either.

I view the opportunity to vote as a blessing, perhaps even a bit refreshing (or maybe it's just the cooped-up house wife in me). Hey, when you march into an elementary school in Lehi, Utah and ask for a Democratic ballot, the response you receive is much like the response you would receive if you had marched in 9 months pregnant and asked those nice old ladies for a pack of Luckies. But that is not really the point. The point is that we have been given opportunity, an opportunity that many don't have. An opportunity that many people sacrificed greatly for. My voice is counted, regardless of whether or not it is represented in the electoral college. And regardless of whether I am a bit cynical, I am still grateful. I am grateful and humbled by who has come and fought before me. My vote is a thank you and I will always be grateful for the blessings I enjoy today that were denied so many for so long. Thank you, thank you, thank you!



My brother Bob is really the hero of this day. He drove 25 minutes to babysit for 20 minutes so that I could slip out and vote. Thank you Bob!