three versus seven

We were talking about our family at the dinner table. One of the kids asked if we would have any more kids, and we told them no, and discussed some reasons why, and how that would change their lives if we did.

Without giving any details, I mentioned that we wouldn't have any more babies, because we were being very careful not to have more babies.

Babs thought about that for a moment, then said "Grammy wasn't very careful."

new attitudes about church

The boy did not want to go to church yesterday. He wanted to go outside and play in the sand. He cried as we headed to church. "I want to stay with daddy," he called out. I would then tell him (again) that Daddy was already at church, and we were going too.

"I not want to go to church!" he said again. Having grown up since Babs said the same thing every Sunday, instead of saying "we go to church, and that's what we do," I explained that we love Heavenly Father, and going to church is one of the ways we can show that. None of this made him want to be at church any more than before.

During Sacrament Meeting, he heard a baby crying. Instead of last week's sweet comment about the sad baby, but he's happy, he said the following: "Hear that sad baby? He not want to be at church." (I may have laughed a little.)

He was happy to be heading off to nursery after sacrament meeting though. Except the building A/C was broken, so we only had Sacrament Meeting. The kids were surprised when we told them we were going home. The boy recovered quickly when I told him he could play in the sand when we got home.

But Babs cried the whole way home, because she couldn't go to primary. She was so sad to miss her "little class." There was no distracting her from her sorrow. The crying was irritating, but it couldn't quite take the joy out of my heart that Babs actually wanted to be at church!

the cheshire cat

The benefit of the prophet getting older is that he gives very short talks, and I can make my kids listen to the entire talk. Which I did for the first two Mondays after General Conference. I gave exactly the same lesson both weeks, once to just Babs and the Boy, and then the week after to all three kids.

I had guessed that the second time through Babs would complain, but she didn't even seem to realize we were hearing it multiple times.

Then a few weeks later she was leafing through the Friend magazine, which had a picture of Alice talking to the Cheshire cat. "Hey," Babs told me, "here's the story Pres. Monson told!"

I was thrilled. She recognized the story. She realized it was associated with the prophet. She could read enough to identify the picture. Oh wow! We may make it!

you know you're sick...

Babs spent most of the month of April sick. First she had a headache. Then she had some sort of tonsil infection. Then a reaction to the antibiotics or a stomach bug, but definitely something that made her throw up. Then she had a headache and general weaknesses. She didn't go to church at all that month. She attended school at most two times each week. (We would think she was getting better, then, oh no!) She took her skinny little body and made it skinnier. And then she had been sick so long that she sort of forgot how to be well.

So we canceled her birthday party. Well, postponed it. We are in fact still waiting to have it. We think she is finally better. We did of course still have her birthday. And she got to stay home for it. What a lucky gal!

making plans

Babs loves a good plan. She especially likes to make a diagram so we can see just how the plan will work out. (I love this.)

Two Sundays ago, she had the markers and paper out on her bed, making a plan. She ran to the living room where the boy was, then shouted at him. He looked at her for a moment, then went back to his toys. "Hmm," she muttered, then ran back to her room.

She drew another plan, chortled, then, paper in hand (so she could refer to the plan) she came back to the boy, and did something else. Poked him maybe? Same bemused, quiet, reaction from the boy.

This process went through at least 5 iterations, possibly more. Finally, he could take no more, and when she bugged him again, the boy let out a yell of frustration.

"YES! My plan worked!" she triumphantly cried.

growing up

Babs stood on her tiptoes and hung a hanger in her closet.

"Wow!" I exclaimed. "I didn't know you could do that. You're getting so tall!"

The boy, who was in the room at the time, drooped his little shoulders and sighed, "I not."


He is in that awkward middle phase. Too small to do the things he wants to (go to school with the girls!), yet being told daily that he is a "big boy" because he uses underwear (mostly successfully). We don't know what size you are either, little guy.

with a wink and a smile

I volunteered in Babs' classroom the other day. As I was getting ready to leave, she smiled and said "have a good day, honey."

It was a good impression of me, I have to give her that.

their electronic life

My mom sent a text to the boy, after he wanted to facetime with her, and she was unavailable.

I have often been reluctant to share text messages to my children, wondering how on earth they could understand the idea of a message being passed from one of us to the other so quickly.

Then I thought, I never explained a plate to them, I just used the word of something that was clearly part of their life until they put the item and the label together. Same with phone call. A text for them is like a phone call for me when I was little. Just a part of life.

***

Yesterday when I was trying not to be a dragon for my kids (my husband was off the hook because he was making dinner), Babs replied "She can't be a dragon, she can only be the woman who looks at her phone." Ouch.

In my defense, I was reading an ebook. But is that really better than browsing the internet in how it looks to my kids? Also in my defense, we'd had two extra little people at our house all afternoon (an early release day) so I was a little frazzled. I also wasn't currently on my phone, but trying to set the table. After allowing enough of a gap that she wouldn't know that comment was what changed my mind, I was (briefly) a dragon.

In my attempts to find the right balance of how much time to be electronically engaged around my children, clearly in the last few days I've missed the mark.

I was looking for some pictures...

... to text my brother-in-law for Christmas. I thought one of my two poorly shot Christmas pictures would be appropriate.

I opened my camera roll to this:

This is only one of many series of the same subject.

(A note about selfies... When Kiddo was asked at the beginning of 1st grade to draw a selfie, she drew a full body shot, because she didn't know what a selfie was (she does now). Babs clearly understands the selfie spirit.)

family home evening success story

(Note the title is singular, I'm not anticipating this again any time soon.)

After yet another disheartening night of Babs being crazy while we tried to read scriptures as a family, and this sending her parent off the rails, when all was quiet my husband and I brainstormed how we could change things. Although we made no decisions, I mentioned I thought we should use a paper Book of Mormon (as opposed to the digital ipad version) so we could point to the words and Babs could follow along.

On Monday, we finally sat down for FHE at 7, which is yes, bedtime. So I wasn't expecting great things. But we got them.

First my husband led a discussion about how we keep the Sabbath Day holy. My favorite moment was when he reminded them that we don't go to stores or restaurants on Sunday. He asked them why not. Babs was sure she had the answer.

(I paraphrase, but not much.) It's to show Heavenly Father that we are thankful for what we have. We show him we don't need more food and we don't need more things, but that we have enough so we don't go get any more.

Wow. We both told her what a great answer that was.

Second, after the lesson we read scriptures. We pulled out a paper Book of Mormon, and sat Babs on her daddy's lap. She read most of her portion by herself. She even read the word "vineyard." (Yes, we're in Jacob 5. And will be forever.) And then she read for part of my turn.

Finally, as she was getting ready for bed, I had her kneel down to pray. She started on her own, giving thanks that she could finally read the Book of Mormon by herself.

yay at the dentist

Took these beauties to the dentist last week (clean dental bill of health!). As the dentist caught me up to speed at the end, he mentioned how much he likes to see their names on his schedule for the day. He gets excited about Kiddo, because he chose that name for his daughter and loves to see it in use. And Babs makes him smile because she is so clearly her own girl: fitted out in batman shirts and spiderman shoes.

prayer police

Often as we bless the food, each of us just clasps our hands, instead of folding our arms. But the Boy has learned from nursery (yay nursery, we love nursery) that one should fold their arms. So while we pray, he corrects us one by one. "No, not that way daddy, like this," until he improves his form, then on to me, then the girls.

This morning, as he quietly insisted "Like this [Kiddo]" throughout the entire prayer, I was reminded of another prayer police. Except when Babs was the enforcer quiet words were never enough.

thoughts from the park

School starts in 5 days. So I asked Kiddo if there was anything she'd like to do. "Go to the park?" she asked. Okay. So after the Boy's nap, off we went.

Part of the reason she wanted to go to the park is because she *finally* learned how to swing on her own, and wanted to practice. Because I am so ready to not push her any more, I wanted her to practice. She sang a happy song and swung for a really long time.

The Boy brought two books to the park. He was much more interested in being read to and wandering around the park with his two books than the swings, the slides, or climbing around.

And as I watch Babs emerge from the slide I thought: When did my little girl get so long and lean? Where did my little brick go? I guess she is old enough to go to kindergarten... even if I still wish it were half day.

tiny thugs

We were at my friend's house the other day with lots of little kids playing in their backyard. Many of the very little kids (by that I mean the boy's age) kept digging in the fairy gardens that belonged to some of Babs' friends. But not my boy, because we'd been here before, so he knew better, and I was watching, because I knew better.

But other kids did dig, and this upset the older kids (Bab's age) a lot, especially the twin owners of the fairy gardens.

Babs came to me crying: "My brother is leading a baby team to go dig in the fairy garden!"

"Sweetie, he's not in the fairy garden, I've been watching."

"But they say that he's doing it, and he's getting all the other babies to help him!"

I tried to calm her down while in my head imagining the complex operation of both organizing a gang of babies, and having a 22 month old as the leader.

But rumors are persistent... my friend is still trying to convince her girls that my Boy was not the ring leader too.

(He looks guilty, don't you think?)

popstar dreams

Babs got the movie "Barbie Princess and the Pop Star" from the library today. Since we have already read the book three or four times (also from the library), we knew the story line. As Babs heard the theme song, she was thrilled.

"This is the song from my guitar! It's a pop star guitar! You bought it for me mom, thank you!"

"Actually Grandma bought it for you."

"We need to send her a note to say thank you" she gushed. (Dear Grandma, thank you for the Pop Star guitar. If only mom would find it for me, then I could play it every day again. I love the Pop Star!)


She's had the guitar for at least two years. Before receiving the guitar, every time we'd go to Target, she would find it, and press the buttons on the display. She loved it. So I swallowed my distaste, and told Grandma it would be a perfect gift. I believe Grandma had to look at a few stores to finally get it. And it is well loved.


When we first moved into this house, before all the toys were unpacked, and the clutter reigned supreme, it was one of the girls favorite activities: They would march around our area rug, one of them "playing" the guitar while the other sang along. Hours and days of fun have come from the popstar guitar.


And tomorrow we get to watch the movie again. (I'm so excited.) Babs wants a Pop Star Barbie. And pop star boots. And a pop star dress.

She used to have a skirt that she called her pop star skirt. Since it was too small, I passed it on. But today, now that she better understands the awesomeness that is the pop star, she wants another one. Sigh.

medium mom

Babs hates it when we get mad at her (ironic, given that she is so good at making us mad). But, we've made a concerted effort over the last few months to not get mad at her, and deal with our flash points differently. Either we don't engage in the argument, or we do things differently so there are fewer opportunities to get stressed at each other. And it's working.

But a few weeks ago, it wasn't. We needed to be in the car so we could pick Kiddo up from school. And Babs wasn't doing her part. I finally yelled, or spoke sharply, or something that she needed to sit down this instant.

Vaguely cowering (finally now) in her seat, she said hopefully "Happy mommy?" because she wanted me to be nice again. I was still stressed, but trying to calm down. "Happy mommy is not available right now" I shot back.

"Medium mommy?" she countered. And then I had to laugh.


And thus "medium mommy" has entered the lexicon. I try to be happy mommy for their sakes and mine. But sometimes I'm too tired or frustrated to have her around. So then medium mommy comes for a while. It's a compromise we can all live with.

birthday present

A few days after her birthday, Babs asked me if she got anything from preschool for her birthday.

"Yeah, you got a 'happy birthday' pencil," I replied.

"You know I can't write!" she disgustedly replied.

the power of prayer

We try to teach our children to pray. Some days, when they are climbing all over us, and looking at each other the whole time it seems that no progress is being made. But sometimes I think we are.

Kiddo received a gift card for Christmas, but recently when we discussed using it we realized it was lost. She had taken it out of the box we put it in for safekeeping, and had packed it in one of her many bags for play one day. We prayed that we would find it, but we didn't. Many days later I was unpacking one of her bags so it could be used for something else, and there was the gift card. (Along with many, many other tiny things. That kid's like a magpie.) Kiddo exclaimed "We prayed to find it, and we did!" I was grateful that she immediately made that connection.

Babs is an odd mix of do-it-myself and you-do-it-for-me. She won't pray on her own in the evening; she expects one of her parents to feed her the lines. But, if we pray for the wrong thing, she won't say it. As we were recovering from the never-ending cold my husband prompted her, "Thank you that I'm healthy," because she was, and was about the only one right then. But, she had recently coughed, so that was not her perspective, so she changed it to "bless me that I will feel better because I'm still sick."

The Boy seems to have a special relationship with prayer. Even as a baby his behavior would often change in result of his parents fervent prayers, in a faster and different way than with the girls. (Of course, that could be because the parents are getting better at praying, but I think that's only a small part of it.) But he also loves to pray. He has folded his arms for a long time. And now he talks along with whoever is speaking. It's not uncommon for him to include at first truck noises, and now the word "truK" or "pane!" (plane). The other day as he accompanied a blessing on the food he specifically mentioned a plane. And right after one flew over our house, which he saw.

I firmly believe that was an answered prayer for my little boy. And I pointed it out as such to my family. Because surely Heavenly Father cares about my 20 month old's sincere prayer just as much as my prayers, possibly more.

about a month ago...

 After getting the boy out of his crib I went to the kitchen to finish up some dishes. It was so quiet, I finally wondered where he was.

The close up is so you understand both why he's lying on top of her, and why she's letting him.

birthday party

Babs is almost 5. I asked her if she wanted a birthday party, or just do something special, and she choose birthday party. "Because then I get presents!" She wants to know all about what she's getting. She keeps reminding me that she likes "boy stuff" and not "girl stuff." She wonders what presents she is getting. In fact, every time there is a lull in the conversation she says "Okay, so let's talk about my birthday again." I've told her she is actually getting a mix of "boy" and "girl" stuff. (Although I wish we had different words for that, I suppose it is how she understands the world of toys, given that I only take them toy shopping at target. I have hidden from them the fact that other stores have toys.) I'm pretty sure she'll be happy with it. And I've managed to invite a dozen little kids to her birthday party, so there will be no lack of new stuff. (Won't she be thrilled with the thank you card part of the receiving!)

We've also discussed what we will do on her birthday. "Why am I only getting six presents on my birthday?" she wonders. She's decided to have pickles for dinner that night, although I'm allowed to have something else because I don't like pickles.


Her sincere desire to get, get, get, was underscored today by her play. She fashioned a water selling station, which required actual money to get a tea cup of water (sometimes referred to as a smoothie though). After she had a few coins she sang, "I'm getting rich! rich! rich!"