What!

I asked India what she wanted for Christmas.

India: "Another costume."

Me: "What kind of costume?"

India: "A Hannah Tanna dress costume."

Me: "A WHAT? Where did you learn about Hannah Montana? Which of your friends has a Hannah Montana costume?"

India: "Not Tristan. Him don't wear dresses. He not a GIRL!" (lots of giggles)

Now fess up. Who taught India about Hannah Montana?

Soccer & Preschool

Ammon got an amazing BARGAIN on Real soccer tickets to 3 games! Thanks Dad and Mom - awesome birthday present to Ammon. We cuddled and cheered sans kids on the 3rd and 4th row. I liked going to the Real vs. Chivas game better because I didn't understand all the Spanish swear words. The referee-ing was TERRIBLE, which meant about 6 fights, 10 yellows, and 2 or 3 reds. No exaggeration. People were going nuts.

Every time India sees the Real mascot she remembers, "I shake him hand!" It's been a highlight of her life ever since.

I survived my rotation of preschool teaching. And it has been so much fun! I haven't asked the other mommies if I could put pictures of their kids on the blog, but believe me, they are super duper cute too. (And so far better behaved than India).

Pirate Jack finishing off a pumkin sugar cookie in Ammon's Sunday shirt. Arrgh!

India and Jack AFTER preschool (after a sugar cookie . . . with lots of frosting . . . and a treat from the skeleton's belly) showing off the 5 senses song.

Brag Brag Brag

I gave my old boring yellow clock a makeover, and I love the results! The new background is a piece of taped-on scrapbook paper, old-school keys from a craft store, and some of my index finger skin (from gluegun burns). Hooray for did-it-myself projects!

Catching Tigers in Red Weather

As an English teacher, I'm often asked what my favorite book is. I sometimes tell people I have many. That is true. Equally as often, I make something up. You know -- just for fun. Really, what difference does it make? Are they any more likely to actually think that because I like the book, they should go read it? If my theory holds, they are no less likely to look for and become disappointed trying to find a book that I made up. Give it a shot. Next time a person asks you what your favorite book say something like "I just read Next October by Emmanuel Gildtren . It is amazing and hauntingly familiar." I am willing to wager that not one person will ever come back two days later and say "You shamblanker. I searched everywhere including the interweb, and that is categorically a farce of a book." First, they won't say that because shamblanker isn't a word -- yet. Second, they didn't really want a book recommendation to begin with. Third, when you say something like "hauntingly familiar" people get intimidated even though it doesn't mean anything. Neat trick huh?

Okay so you don't think I'm a complete shamblanker, I'll share a poem instead. It's much easier to share a poem -- smaller package, less shipping and handling, and easier to copy and paste.

This poem contains one of my favorite images from all poetry. (Okay you caught me. I haven't actually read all of poetry.)

Disillusionment of Ten O'clock

by Wallace Stevens

   The houses are haunted
   By white night-gowns.
   None are green,
   Or purple with green rings,
   Or green with yellow rings,
   Or yellow with blue rings.
   None of them are strange,
   With socks of lace
   And beaded ceintures.
   People are not going
   To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
   Only, here and there, an old sailor,
   Drunk and asleep in his boots,
   Catches tigers
   In red weather.

I like to re-read this poem whenever I feel like I'm stuck -- in life that is.  I suppose if I was stuck in the snow or mud, it wouldn't really console me very much.  My favorite is the last image of the sailor catching tigers in red weather.  I haven't figured out exactly what red weather is yet, but it sounds awesome.

I guess what I like the most is the idea that living the kind of life that I often find myself living is safe, but ultimately that safety is paradoxically haunting -- perhaps even because of its familiarity.  Though the sailor is drunk and asleep in his boots, he's doing something.  When did life get so monotonous that Friday night excitement is falling asleep by Ten O'clock? Don't get me wrong, I like sleep plenty.  And no, I'm not going to join the navy to become a drunk sailor. I just wonder if it is possible to reconcile the two seemingly opposite lives. Is it at all within the realm of the possible to have red weather and safety?

I hope so.  

The Label Doesn't Fit The Reality

I am expriencing a strange change today. I didn't have soccer practice this afternoon for the first time since the beginning of August and am accordingly left with a little extra time. So here I sit with no excuses remaining. Actually, I've wanted to write for a little while, but have been too busy or tired when not busy. Now that I'm neither of those, I have something on my mind that I'd like to air. I'm uneasy with the knowledge that this post may raise some pertinent questions without answering any. On the other hand, I don't think that is necessarily bad. I think that too often we are afraid of questions. We shouldn't be. That's what I try to teach my students, yet too often I miss that lesson in my own life. I too often have an answer and seek to make my life conform to that answer. That is backwards.

So what am I talking about? I know that often I'm too obtuse, but I think that this time it's appropriate to be so. I don't feel like sermonizing in this post, and I'm afraid that this topic lends itself to that. I've had a few people in mind lately, and don't want to offend by discussing the topic directly. I hope the point isn't lost in the abstract.

This week I've had a couple experiences I'd like to share in benefit of specific friends in precarious situations. I want to share two experiences. It's funny how when I have a problem life teaches me the answer -- if I listen carefully. Too often though I'm so attached to the now that I am not paying attention to the lessons around me.

First Lesson.

Obfuscation:

I have a student who struggles with everything -- literally. She is a very bright, capable, and driven student who had this week somewhat of an identity crisis. She found out that the political party she grew up thinking that she believed in isn't what she thought it was. She took an objective political test and in her mind completely failed. I tried to explain that it isn't possible to fail that type of test. That it just asks what you believe. That there are no wrong answers. That both ends of the political spectrum contribute to society. She was devastated to learn that the label she hoped for wasn't the label she got when she put in her beliefs on topics. That's right, she sided with the "wrong" political party. I thought I was about to witness a true existential meltdown. Two good things came from that. First, she had to break down the two seemingly opposite labels and find out what each label actually means. I don't think she's completely finished. This type of thing takes a while. Second, she had lengthy discussions with her parents about topics they have never discussed before.

Elucidation:

Breaking down labels is positive. We too often define ourselves by these essentially meaningless labels. We also tend to define and assign value to these labels in binary. Think of a term like mother -- a label that we are familiar with. It's a good example to illustrate a point. There are so many ways to define that word. So many different mothers. We could say that it is feminine of father, but that too is abstract and only muddies the water. An honest person would say that there isn't only one way to define that word. Isn't that exactly what we do though? In a self defeating way. We set up an ideal around that word. Hold it up on a pedestal and worship it with holidays and songs. We say that if you are a woman, the ultimate good is to be a mother. We then further define that label by saying that a mother has to become so naturally and in her youth.

Setting up this type of label and letting our mind continue to assign value by binary is potentially destructive in its consequences. If for a woman "Mother" is the ultimate good, being woman and not mother is the ultimate bad. Instead, why can't there be many good ways to become mother in all its many conceptions? And woman for that matter? That way, when life and nature get in the way, as they do, a woman who for no choice of her own or by her own choice doesn't make herself evil for not having a particular label.

When the situation in our life doesn't have the label we want, is our life less meaningful? Perhaps only by our own definition -- because in the end we created what that label means.

Second Lesson -- One From the Little Ones

Obfuscation:

India came to me today with a sincere request. There was nothing wrong with her request. She wasn't asking for anything that would hurt anyone else. It just happened that I couldn't do what she wanted me to do. She came to me and said that her doll's dress had broken and asked me to fix it. I actually felt a little bad. I tried to figure out a way that I could make her request work, but it just wasn't possible. It's not that I wanted her to suffer. I just could not do it. She cried because I, in her understanding, just wasn't helping her. She told me that I could fix it and said please in the most sincere way. She had complete faith that I could fix it if I wanted to. I had to let her know in final terms that it wasn't possible. After a couple of minutes, she came back with another dress for her doll that suited her needs just fine and she wasn't sad about the first dress anymore.

Elucidation:

Sometimes things don't go my way. Once again, the label for my life that I chose doesn't work. I try to figure out a way to make it happen. I just can't understand why such a worthy goal and desire is left unrewarded. I've thought of everything. Letting me have this wouldn't hurt anyone. Everyone else I know has the thing that I want. Why can't I have it too? In the end after all of the bargaining, and deal making, and praying, and swearing, and deciding there isn't a God who listens, I come to find that I just might not get what I really want. There may be a reason that I just am not aware of yet. I struggle to understand that there are limitations to what even God can do. I don't know all of the reasons. I don't understand the laws. I have to make another plan and continue to make plans until I get the right one for me. Perhaps that God who is limited also has anxiety for me. ( I really did want to fix that dress) I guess the wrong question to ask would be "how can I continue to have faith and hope?" Isn't that exactly what faith and hope require -- not getting what we want and trusting that we'll get what is right instead?

Erin often teaches me that I don't have to know the words to any song in order to sing all of them. If I don't know the words, I think it is wrong to let that lack of knowledge keep me from singing.

I hope that all makes some kind of sense.

Expensive Dating

Ammon took the day off work to go on a date with me . . . to the dentist. Our last trip to the dentist was 10 years ago for Ammon and 6 years ago for me.

12 x-rays, 2 cleanings, 6 cavities, 4 shots, another appointment in two weeks, and $525 later, we walked out numb-mouthed and tongues the size of gorilla fists. I lucked out marrying Ammon because I didn't fully realize the quality of genes he has hopefully passed on to our children. He had his first and only cavity filled today. I had the other five.

Guess which one of us brushes her teeth 4 times a day AND flosses? Guess which one of us brushes his teeth maybe once a day and NEVER flosses? Guess which one of us has thrown up at least 300 times when she was pregnant? Thanks a lot for ruining my teeth offspring!

Sarcasm aside, I am so grateful for modern times and modern medicine. I won't lie. I wanted Ammon to hold my hand while I got 3 shots in my mouth. But I didn't. And I didn't pass out! I just pretended the shots were like epidurals - the most expensive and amazing thing I've ever used. In fact, I wish I could pack an epidural in my 72 hour kit.

Anyway, we recouped the cost by selling our Honda. (Which we were going to anyway - now we don't have to take money out of savings). Back to being a 1 car family - like the newlyweddish days.

Grumpy Ballerinas

We girls have been in a TERRIBLE mood this week. But we (and by "we" I mean me) decided to play dress-ups anyway. I had to bribe India with new markers, my wedding "crown", and velcro hair jewels from my prom to get her to even look at the camera. Our photo session ended in tears (I wouldn't let India wear pants under her tutu because I'm so mean), but I snapped the following 4 nano-seconds of joy.

Product Placement.

Naked Baby.

Not exactly the right way to tie pointe shoes.

Pas de deux: slight uncertainty from Maya and a genuine smile from India.

It's been a while since . . .

I've posted videos! The first video is acceptable teasing of Maya, and the second video is Maya demonstating her newest trick. All your girls miss you now you're back at work, Ammon.

The Taste of Summer

As I approach the completion of another summer break, I do so with some trepidation. Perhaps not trepidation, but certainly some disequilibrium akin to trepidation. Maybe this is because I've grown accustomed to the nicety of staying up late, sleeping in late, and lately, spending good time with my best friends Erin, India, and Maya.

I've also had some time this summer to spend some time with me. Is that strange? I don't know. I do know that it is necessary to get to know oneself once in a while. That getting to know, for want of a better word, could come in some of the most expected of cliche ways like climbing Everest I'm sure. I don't even like climbing stairs. Or I'm sure running a marathon could do it, but look at me -- I'm not really running any marathons.

For me, that meeting occurred when I recently connected with the milieu that is summer food. One food. No, one bite of one meal struck a resonant chord, and I was instantly connected with the essence of summer break in a way that I haven't experienced in a long time. We tried, with limited success to grow a garden last year. This year, our success was much greater. We were able to grow tomatoes. I know what you're thinking "any idiot can grow tomatoes." But it was tough for me so BACK OFF. So anyway, we did. We are proud of ourselves. So, for the first time since the last summer on Cherry Street [that's in Illinois where I grew up] I made my favorite summer treat.

For some people the taste of summer may be snow cones on the corner, corn dogs at the fair, or kool-aid on the back porch. For me, the taste that brought back memories of summer was a tomato and cucumber sandwich on toasted bread spread lightly with mayonnaise. Simple right? That's the beauty. The memory fits that simplicity. Summer used to be that. Remember if you can.

We used to wake up in the morning when we wanted to, and in the afternoon if we didn't. Only, in those days, we usually wanted to. We would watch cartoons and eat cereal on the couch. After not too long, we would call some friends and ride our bikes to the pool. Sometimes we stopped at the park. Usually, we didn't. We swam for hours. Actually, we sat for hours watching others watching others watching one or two people actually swimming. It was some kind of a strange merry-go-round of people watching people.

Eventually, we succumbed to the only force great enough to tear us from that primal force which makes us stare -- hunger. We hopped back on our bikes peddled as fast as the heat of the day would allow, and arrived home to find nothing to eat. After looking in the same refrigerator several times, coming just short of resigning ourselves to death by starvation, someone -- instinctively I'm sure-- remembered the garden. Maybe there was something there. It was always the same, cucumbers and tomatoes. Simply put -- the taste of summer.

I connected to that forgotten memory of me, and it was good. Perhaps, that is what I needed this summer -- to mingle with the memory of what life used to be. What life used to mean. It was simple. And it was good.

Dessert Night

Maya enjoyed her first red vine with lots of friends and neighbors.

And here is the cake recipe that Ammon made - thanks Royers for introducing us to the best chocolate cake EVER!

1 pkg chocolate cake mix (without pudding in the mix)

4 eggs

3/4 cup vegetable oil

2 cups sour cream

1/2 cups liquid hazelnut coffee creamer

1 small pkg instant (regular flavored, not milk or white) chocolate pudding

6 oz semisweet chocolate chips

Mix all ingredients except chocolate chips until smooth. Add chocolate chips and pour into a sprayed bundt cake pan. Bake 1 hour until done at 350. Top with anything you like.

Girls

Our Maya-girl is adorable. Just adorable. And in the last month she has finally turned into a person. So let me introduce you to Maya. Maya crawled "for real" at 6 1/2 months. At 7 months she started pulling herself to standing, which now makes her India's official partner in crime during naptime. They goof off and refuse to sleep because they're having way too much fun. Maya's two bottom teeth have just poked through. Like India, Maya is a GOOD baby. However, she mostly only wants me just all of the time. Lucky me. Maya is not a crybaby, but she is emotional and sensitive to Ammon and India's teasing, pretend-yelling/mad, and scaring. (No wonder she wants me all the time - I'm the culprit that turned her into a mommy's girl by being nice to her). Maya will sometimes give open-mouth kisses. She teases India by pulling her hair and teases me by pulling my glasses. Maya shakes her head no. Maya plays laughing games with all of us and pretends to hide. She will sit and play with toys. She will even let me read books to her! Finally, Maya will eat everything in sight, including garbage.

I love this stage!

India is just getting so darn big. She has graduated to Barbie dolls whose names are Belle and Aunt Brittany (who is a nurse Barbie). When she's not teasing Maya, she is taking such good care of her. India is so teachable right now. She has decided we sing a hymn every time before we read scriptures. And she sings them too! India prays to go to school every day. Every morning she asks if we are going on a run or a walk. Finally, we are teaching her about earning, saving, and paying tithing, so she divides up her earned money every Saturday.

Finally

she crashed.

#6

Ammon, we did it again. Happy 6th Anniversary (yesterday)! It was more of an accomplishment than a celebration this year, so good on us for doing hard things! I had a lovely time swimming at the Scera Pool with our girls for our family birthday, watching the lightening on the porch, shopping for "old people stuff", and having a delicious kid-free lunch (as in getting a babysitter --- not devouring children).

I love you.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Free Book

Colum McCann's new novel, Let the Great World Spin, is free to download through Wednesday, August 5th! You have sign up to become a member to oprah.com, (Ammon - don't panic, I'm not converting to Oprah-worship) and that's free too!

Secret Crush

Ammon told India she needed to take a nap after lunch.

India: "Ok. I'm going to dream about Josh."

Ammon : "Which Josh?"

India: "Kenna's Josh."

Ammon: "Why?"

India: "Because I love him silly."

You wouldn't know it because she's a bit shy around Josh, but now we know why! We've already given Family Home Evening lessons on kissing rules since India kept snogging neighbors and nursery friends. Sheesh.

Featured above is Kenna & Kenna's Josh. They have started a blog explaining who they are and why they are choosing to adopt. Click here or the box on the side to read more!

We love you Shumheads! Keep persevering, stay strong, and someday all those tears will be worth it.

So if you haven't heard . . .

I left my sleeping girls with my sleeping husband since it had been a late night. On the way home from my morning walk with Sarah and Lauren, I saw 2 police cars in front of Cheree's home on 200 East. I distinctly remember saying, "Let's go see why the police are here because I'm nosy."

Turns out they were there for me: Cheree was holding a very frightened India. The officers ask if I am the parent of this child. A wonderful lady (who I do not know but would love to) found India, called the police, and I'm guessing dropped India off in front of Cheree's house, which isn't exactly just around the corner from our apartment. The police took my and India's name, birthday, address, and phone number. I thought they were going to arrest me or fine me or both for being a dummy.

When we came home the door was open, and Maya and Ammon were still sleeping. India claims she left the house to look for me because she knew I was on a walk without her. Needless to say, the girls will be coming with me on all walks and runs from now on.

More Firsts

I'm so sad our pictures always turn out so dark. Someday, maybe an upgrade. Anyway, Maya sat up BY HERSELF for the first time (yesterday). We can hardly keep her down. Like when she's supposed to be napping.

Also, Maya has started sticking out her tongue when she is the most happy such as when Ammon and I come home from work, or when she gets to take a bath, or everytime she sees India.

And, of course, whatever Maya does, India proves she still CAN do. Believe me, she is NOT deprived of attention.

Cute Maya and adorable baby Olivia - our neigbor who is 6 weeks younger than Maya. I couldn't get both girls to look at me at the same time. So I had to post one of each.

Oh yes. I forgot to mention that Maya got her first of many to come dorky bangs haircut by me! It's a rite of passage in motherhood. I'm glad she doesn't know and isn't going to lock herself in her room for the rest of the day.

Silliness

Last night the sandman played a mean trick on Maya. Our crib has gap between between the end and mattress since there is only fabric on one end of the bed (see teddy bear demonstration). At 11pm Maya is crying because her head, shoulders, arms, and torso had become stuck upside down in this gap. I've deployed a teddy bear brigade to protect Maya from further incidents onto the floor via the gap in the crib fabric. Luckily, Maya is fine and decided to celebrate life by being extra cute and talkative and staying up with Mommy and Daddy till midnight.

Team Goofy. Clearly, one binky is not enough for Maya. And pigtails make the girl look so grown up at 6 months.

A different day I heard Maya whining in the living room, but I ignored it because I was busy. The whimpering didn't stop, so I investigated and saw this:

I asked India if Maya had sat up by herself. But no, India had "helped" Maya do the splits just like her. Good thing kids are so cartilage-able/ish/y (choose your own suffix for my newly invented adjective!).

And for fun, here is Uncle David obviously not feeling well at all. My mom, who just put in new, creme carpeting, told him to get a bowl and not to miss. And that's Uncle Jared in the corner practicinghis deer- in-the-headlights look. I'm such an awesome photographer.

Hearts & 6 Months

-Conversation with India after listening and comparing heartbeats-

What does Daddy's heart say?

Bump, bump.

What does Maya's heart say?

Bouncy, bouncy.

Officially 6 months!

15.2 lbs and 25 inches

After four shots and literally three seconds of crying, Maya slept for twenty two hours, waking only for a few feedings. We must have bought a magic binky, which I am going to let her keep until she turns 21.

Mmmmm

She likes it! Rice cereal that is. And she likes to feed herself.

Her aim is pretty good and very messy.

I love this stage. She sits up by herself. She's not crawling but remains a scooting maniac, which is great because she can get to where ever she needs, but not fast. She is a good, good baby. Today I cleaned the church and left her in the stroller. She made not a peep until we reached the two hour mark. She will watch me work out and scoot over to grab my hair if I'm on the floor.

I thing the biggest difference between Maya and India at this stage is that Maya has turned into a mommy's girl and is going through stranger anxiety. She doesn't cry at every stranger. It's been a bit random. But Great Grandma Parker found a way around stranger anxiety in the form of a bowl of icecream!