2

 Nothing like fingerpainting yourself and each other to celebrate your birthday.

Since all of our birthdays are pretty much within a month we tend to look for cake-less options so we don't get sick of it.  After running down a list of desserts Skyler made it clear that we needed doughnuts, especially ones with "sprunkles." 

 One of the toys that Skyler got was this cute little drill that would slowly spin so you could actually build stuff with it (Ben promptly sat down with it and built a house and a car among other things.  We kept joking "Ages 3 and up, Ben.")  Lily really got into it.  Nothing like seeing her in her "Punzel Dress" while woodworking. 

Skyler, today you are 2.  How on Earth my baby came to be 2 is still a mystery to me.  When did you grow?  Why don't you just stop?  I think that'll fix my problems.  Deal?

No?  Dang.

The biggest problem I have with you turning 2 is that you seemed to skip a year in development and you seem even older than that to me.  And I kind of, sort of hate how quickly you want to become "un-baby-fied." 

You speak almost as well as Lily.  You can identify every single letter of the alphabet (although you can't pronounce "w" and you call it "dah-duh") and a bunch of numbers, too.  You know your shapes, even though you call a triangle a "fangle."  You are the heaviest kid your size and it's no wonder why I always call you "My Little Brick."  You sport a faux hawk because you're cool like that.  And you always have your crib filled with your billions of stuffed animals. 

But those are just little things.  Here's what I ADORE about you:  You nuzzle your little head into my neck whenever you're sleepy.  You always plop down in my lap whenever you're not running around on your little chubby legs (I now hate the feeling of having nothing in my lap).  You sing I Am a Child of God with me before I put you in bed every day, even if you call God "Guy" and you say "hair" instead of "here" (but yes, God did send you with A LOT of hair, too...)  You still have that awesome spot on your head that smells magical.  I love that you give away kisses all the time (even if they are REALLY wet).  You want to do everything that Lily does, even if it means wearing fairy wings (you're pretty dang adorable when you wear those while running around, half naked, and screaming, "FLYING!  FLYING!"...... Sorry if you're reading this in 20 years by the way.  Don't worry, no one will remember..... maybe).

Sometimes when you're sleeping (when Daddy doesn't know about it, because he doesn't want me to wake you up) I'll pick you up out of your crib and I'll just hold you and listen to you breathe as I rub your back under your shirt.  Your face gets all squished up and pink, but you just snuggle away, continuing your sweet little baby dreams.  You rest your little head on my shoulder and I lean my head over on yours so I can smell all of your baby deliciousness.  Oh, and I squeeze your legs.

I love you, Captain Handsome Pants.  So does Daddy.  And so does Lily.  Here's to another awesome year with you a part of our family.

Learning

Things I've Learned This Week

•  My kids are deathly afraid of bubble wrap. 
• Skyler really really needs a haircut.  See picture above.
• When Lily's fingers get frozen while eating an otter pop (or Flavor Ice... whatever you choose to call it) she will make me kiss her fingers until they start regaining feeling.  She will also scream "KISS!!!!" at the top of her lungs as if she's freaked out they'll fall off.  And don't judge me that I haven't given them otter pops until this week. 

Whoever said that it's "the terrible two's and the terrifying three's" was sooooo right.  I have seen a dramatic change in Lily since her third birthday, almost as if she knew that was her cue.  I feel like I'm fighting a magnet all the time.  For example, she's really OCD about having clean hands, but now when I ask her to go wash her hands after getting gooped up she'll pin herself down and won't move, even though she actually wants to wash her hands.  Or she'll barely hurt herself and cry about it until I fix it, and when I say, "All better!" she starts up a fake cry and makes up another injury.  "Ummm, seriously Lily?  You think your leg is broken?  I was sitting right next to you on the carpet.  I know your leg isn't broken."  Then she'll smile andd run off happily. 

One of the things that I'm finally giving in to is letting her learn things the hard way.  Yesterday she kept pointing to my perfume and saying that she wanted to play with it.  I said no but to her that meant that she needed to try again, just louder.  I said no again.  Then she started screaming and tugging on my clothes.  I knew what she would do with it but I let it happen anyway.  I gave it to her.  She had that look of neener neener neener!  It took her about 5 seconds to figure out how to take off the cap and she said "ooooooh!" when she figured out how to spray it.  The next thing I know she's sprayed it in her mouth.  Everything has suddenly changed and I'm not the evil villain anymore.  I'm the one who can reach the cups so she can gulp down a glass of water. 

Everything I thought I understood about life has flipped upside down since I became a parent.  When I was younger I thought that Primary was a place where children are taught the gospel.  Now that I've spent my entire marriage in Primary I think that it is a place that's actually meant to teach and remind the adults what it's like to be childlike.  Before I thought that parenthood was when you have kids and you do your best to teach them right and wrong.  Now I think that parenthood is a reminder of how we must appear to our Father in Heaven, that we shouldn't be impatient with our kids if He's not impatient with us.  But it's a struggle for me, a real struggle.  If I don't completely scar my kids for life (or let them permenantly smell like perfume they sprayed in their own mouths) I will think that I didn't do too badly.  I guess we'll see...

Dear J.K. Rowling

WARNING: if you are one of the 3 people in the universe who hasn't read the final book of Harry Potter, be warned that this contains spoilers.



Dear J.K. Rowling,

I know you're never going to read this.  And that's okay because I know how many letters you get.... well, actually I don't.  I  just know it's a lot.

I wanted to thank you for writing Harry Potter.  I'm a 23 year-old mother of two and I'm not ashamed to say that Harry Potter has easily been my favorite book series.  Seriously, there is zero competition for that title. 

Last Saturday I went to go see the final installment of Harry Potter.  And I cried.  More than once.  And not when I thought I would.  I thought I would get emotional whenever I did when I read the book.  But nope, my worst moment in the movie was the very last minute.  I kept thinking to myself, this is a happy moment.  Why am I crying?  But I realized that it was because it was ending.  But let's not dwell on the ending, let's talk about the beginning.

I started reading Harry Potter just after the 3rd one came out.  My mom bought me the first three books together and I remember looking at the pictures on the cover and thinking, this book looks really cool.  Which now I realize was dumb because authors have pretty much zero control as to what their books actually look like.  I was in 5th grade and I remember keeping Azkaban open in my desk while I was supposed to be doing my schoolwork, which was strange for me since I'm OCD about getting all of my work done.  Ever since, I counted down days until each of the books came out. 

The only thing I hated about your books was that your world couldn't be real, and if I'm going to be honest, it's  definitely a good thing that they're not real.  Sure we do have our own modern day non-magical Voldemorts but I'm not so sure I could have handled drinking polyjuice potion or being in the same arena as dragons pumped with motherly hormones.  I wouldn't have wanted to see a huge Tupperware filled with expired, moldy food as my boggart.  Also, if I would have been put in Gryffindor I'm pretty sure I would have forgotten the password every other week and would have had to sleep in the hall.  And I'm pretty sure I would have died myself when I saw that Fred died.  The only reason I forgave you for that one is because you let George live.  Poor little one-eared George.

But I really really wanted to eat a chocolate frog -- so long as it melts in my tummy before it wiggles around everywhere.  And I would love to have an in depth interview with the sorting hat.  And I think scuba diving in the Black Lake during summertime would have been a blast.  And blowing all my money on Weasely Wizard Wheezes would have been fun, too.  And I may or may not have paid visits to Gringotts just for the ride down to my vault.  I would have loved to find out what my own patronus looks like (and if it would have been a whale that would be a real shame -- I can see it now: its blowhole whooshing away the dementors).

But I don't think that you're just cool because you wrote Harry Potter.  I think you're cool because you had the courage to.  I have a teensy bit of experience with writing a book (well, really, now there are two) and I know how hard it was to get past the thought of Am I crazy?!?!  You started writing when you were living on welfare in a really dark part of your life.  I started writing when my husband was unemployed and we were living with my parents.  I'm not trying to compare us (because let's get real, I'm no Jo Rowling) but I understand a little bit of where you're coming from.  Thanks for having the courage to create a world that got kids interested in reading.

In case my message isn't clear enough, I think you rock.  A lot.

Thanks for the ride.
Heather

Seasons

One of the things that Ben and I both firmly believe is that everyone should start out marriage and/or adulthood poor.  Like, really really poor.  As in you can tell stories about how crazy your life was "back then" because of how ghetto your life was.

So the picture above is that of our first home, which we have mentioned on our blog a few times.  We lovingly (HONESTLY!) called it "The Ghetto Shack."  So I'm going to take a minute and record a few things about it because it would seriously be a shame if I ever stopped remembering where we came from.

It was about 400 square feet.  It was actually in Sugar City, just outside of Rexburg, and it sat in the middle of farmland.  Our "front yard" was hundreds of acres and miles of potato fields that put nothing in between us and the Tetons, so every morning we had breathtaking views when we walked out our front door.  Our backyard was fenced in and sometimes our landlord would keep his horses back there.  So we'd go back and spend time with them, because, hey, when's the next time we're ever going to have horses in our backyard?  We also had a tree house back there, and a stream -- except it wasn't a stream, it was just an irrigation ditch, but to me, it was "my stream."  It was RIDICULOUSLY COLD.  As in, stick your feet in there for 5 minutes and you'll be hobbling home because you can't feel your feet. 

Sounds pretty ideal, huh?  I didn't even mention that it was only $400/month. 

But...... it was called "The Ghetto Shack" for a reason.  It was old.  Really, really old.  The front had some remodeling done, so you can't tell from the outside.  The ceilings were only 7 feet tall and Ben had to duck to walk between rooms.  In the winter time we could hear mice running through the walls and in the summertime we had hobo spiders living in the drain of our shower.  Thank goodness our shower curtain was clear because there were many times when I would get in, already be wet, and see a palm sized black blur behind the curtain and I'd jump right out and have to drown it.  Because of the remodeling, the hallway that linked the kitchen/living room to the door was c-shaped, which meant we couldn't get our sofa in.  So Ben had to saw it in half and sew it back up together just to get it in.  Our sofa and our love seat had to overlap to have room for each other.  And when it was hot (of course no A/C) we would stick to the green vinyl couches and our clothes would turn green.  Speaking of green, our range (from the 60's or 70's) was the infamous "avocado green."  It had a twist dial as a timer, and we were so scared of that thing being radioactive that we sacrificed literally half of our counter space to buy a new microwave.  In the winter time we could stand pretty much anywhere in the house, and feel the breeze from the negative temperatures outside.  Did I mention that that winter we got 2 actual-factual blizzards?  The drifts out in the country would sometimes go over our truck when we would have to attempt to drive through them.  For that itty-bitty house, we ended up paying $200/month to heat it.  We also didn't have trash cans and we had to take our trash to the dump ourselves.  So we bought a huge rubbermaid container and put our trash bags in there.  When they wouldn't fit we would put them on top and schedule a trip to the dump.  Almost every time we had trash on top, our neighbors dogs (a Chihuahua and a Yorkie) would run through the little hole in the fence that separated our houses, and rip open the bags and spread the trash when we weren't home.  But one day I was home, and I just watched.  I don't know why I didn't stop them, but it was worth it.  We had been given a whole fish from a family friend (well, he gave us TONS of fish really, but this just happened to be the one fish we accidentally let go bad), and it ended up in the trash on top of the bin.  I saw that little Yorkie get that frozen foot long fish in its mouth and try to go through that little hole in the fence with it.  It kept banging into the fence because the fish was too big (and rock hard).  Over and over again that dog would get knocked over.  Eventually it gave up, but it left me laughing. 

Oh the memories of that place.  We knew we'd have to leave since I was pregnant and that it wasn't the right kind of environment for a baby (mice and hobo spiders anyone?).  But Ben and I still crack up about that place, how wonderfully ghetto it was.  We seriously wouldn't change ANYTHING. 

Four years later, we live in our first official house.  It is definitely not ghetto.  And it's definitely not a shack.  I love this place, because it's more than I ever dreamed I would have at this stage of my life.  I have to remind myself that buying a house at 22 is so so so lucky.  In this house, Ben has a garage all to himself.  I have no desire to be in there so it's all his workspace -- quite the improvement since his last workspace was always the bed of his truck.  I have the kitchen of my dreams and the kids each have their own room.  Plus, now we have the castle and a garden.  Sometimes I feel like I have too much, but then I remember that Ben and I don't have cable.  We don't even own bunny ears.  We've decided to give up TV completely.  It's not a need, it's a want for us.  We only have one cell phone and no land line.  We keep a strict budget, we buy in bulk, and we're careful with what money we do have. 

For everything, there is a season.  And just like I love how seasons change throughout the year, I love how seasons change throughout life (although sometimes hurricane season, literally and figuratively, kind of sucks).  I'm so happy we had our ghetto season so that we were able to get to the point we're at now and be oh so grateful for the circumstances we're in. 

Gas

Lily's castle.  Don't ask me why she's pretending to eat it.  But she's eaten worse before... can't complain...

P.S.  So, so jealous of her complexion.  (Sorry, Skyler.  You got mine).

 Her super sweet new swimming towel.  Skyler prefers to wear his super hero style.  Thankfully his is not pink or princessy.







Lily has a thing with gas.  As in people-gas, not car-gas.  With potty training came the explanation of the difference between pushing gas and pushing poop.  Ever since, she has been in awe by this invisible noise.  Here are some examples:

(Lily was on a potty at church and there were other women in the bathroom)
LILY: *yelling* "I'm so gassy, Mommy!" *she cracks up*

Or this:

(It was Lily's last day of speech therapy when Miss Kim's arm made a noise as it slid across the coffee table)
LILY:  "You gassy, Kim?  I'm gassy, too!"  *elated* 
KIM:  Looks at me as if to say, "did she seriously just say that?" but then laughs

Every squeak on our leather furniture, every squeal from sliding the kitchen chairs, every little noise from Skyler (okay, never mind, that one's actually accurate) is apparently "gas" in Lily's world. 

*Sigh*

So.....

Dear Kidnappers,

You really don't want to steal my kids.  Believe me.  One can't stop talking about gas while the other one can't stop producing it (and believe me, it's almost fatal.  "Armed and dangerous" has never been more accurate).  Sure they're cute.  Sure they're smart.  Sure they can tell you through song what happens to the bus as it rolls through the town.  But at the end of the day you'll either need an oxygen mask or earplugs.  It's kind of one of those things that only a mom or dad could be fine with.  I'd give you 5 minutes.  We're not worth your time.

Thanks,
Heather

So Lily has already begun to horrify me with how open she is about gas in public.  What have your kids done to embarrass you?

Things I Break

Ben's really good at not breaking stuff.  I guess that's why I let him hold Skyler like this.

Here's a list of things I break:

1. Rules.  My favorite way to draw with chalk is by soaking them in the kiddie pool first.  I love to feel the fizz on my fingers or simply watch them float at the top until enough bubbles have escaped and then they drift down to the bottom.  Drawing with wet chalk on wet concrete makes pictures look WAY more beautiful, and when they dry they're so much more colorful.  Breaking rules can sometimes make life colorful.
2. Plastic.  I am not ashamed.  I am capable of breaking Gladware, Rubbermaid, Dollar Tree tupperware, containers that hold your mayo or other delicacies.... hand it to me, I can break it.  And I don't do it Napoleon Dynamite style.  I mean that I do this accidentally.  Breaking plastic can lead to lots of laughs in the future (but also unsalvagable freezer jam.  :( ).
3. Hearts.  Lots of them.  Nah, I'm kidding.  It's Skyler who does that.  Seriously the child is a womanizer.  I watched him Sunday as my friend Erin (his nursery leader) asked him for a kiss goodbye.  He pushed his little head forward with his lips puckered up just to turn his cheek and let her kiss land there instead.  The little man's got moves.  Breaking hearts can be a fabulous source of entertainment (coming from a toddler, that is). 
4. Dance.  Or not.  Either way, breakdancing can be fun to watch, or attempt as I lose all feeling in my feet.  And sense in my mind. 
5. Fast.  Every morning around 8.  Chocolate chip waffles are my favorite. 
6. Records.  Haven't you seen me in the Guiness World Record books?  Oh, I'm in there.  You can find me under "Woman who has cried the most times while reading Love You Forever and watching Tangled.  Perhaps this is more embarassing than the plastic thing.... Oh well.  Still worth it.

See, Ben?  Sometimes breaking stuff isn't so bad!  So even though, last night, you broke the first thing ever in our marriage (a jar of hot sauce), it doesn't mean that anything's wrong with you.  It means that you're just as sane as I am!  Now excuse me while I go celebrate this victory with all 6 of these things.  At the same time. 

Breaking things has never been so cool.

UPDATE: Less than 2 hours after I wrote this post I was making meatloaf for dinner and broke a plastic bottle of ketchup.  I've seriously got a gift.

Our Busy Birthday Week

Birthday week (Ben's on the 3rd and mine on the 8th) provided a very busy agenda for the kids.  Let's take a look at it, shall we?

[x] Broke Lily's dresser.  Then decided that since it was broken they might as well throw out every. single. piece. of. clothing.  It also smelled INCREDIBLE when I walked in to discover this.  Turns out that they had gotten their hands on my microscopic bath beads.  They were dispersed in her sheets, carpet, and in the clothing scattered all over her room.  LOTS of vacuuming followed.
[x] Tore down the "E" on her wall and renamed herself Lily "Jan."
[x] Cried endlessly.  As in I probably got a grand total of a whole hour each day without tears being shed.
[x] When I comforted then I must have looked like a fabulous punching bag.
[x] Drew on the walls with pen.
[x] Begged and screamed to go outside until we went outside and then they begged and screamed to go back inside.
[x] Requested specific food each meal (FINALLY!  THEY'LL EAT!!!) and then refused to eat any of it.

UGH.

By the end of the week I was ready to die/throw in the towel/eat a lifetime supply of chocolate.

BUT....

Sometimes fabulous things start happening. 

The night before my birthday we decided to go on a random walk around the neighborhood.  We went a way we've never been before.  At one point Ben asked me if we should take the long way or the short way.  Since the kids were so happy (and quiet) in the stroller I thought we should do the long walk.  What luck!  Ben and I started talking about how nice it would be to have some crape myrtles in our yard.  Then Ben said, "Do you know what would be awesome?  If someone let us cut off a branch and we could try planting them.  Do you know if you can do that?"  I had no idea.  Lo and behold we turned around a corner a couple of minutes later and WABAM!  Someone was trimming down their crape myrtles in the exact color Ben said he'd like to have them in.  They were throwing the excess away.  They saw us staring at them with our jaws dropped and they introduced themselves.  And of course they let us take as many branches as we wanted.  We stuck them in a bucket of water and found out that, lo and behold, you can start a tree from just a branch.  Happy birthday to me!

On Ben's birthday (a Sunday) we had just finished watching Legacy (a movie about the Mormon pioneers) and The Testament (a movie about Christ's life) when it was time to put the babies in bed.  Every night Lily asks for snuggles after we say family prayer so one of us will stay with her for a couple of minutes and then say goodnight.  That night Lily melted us with what she said: "Mommy, tonight I want to snuggle with Jesus."

Then on my birthday I neglected all housework and sat on the couch with the kids as we watched Tangled.  When Rapunzel talked about how it was her birthday Lily said, "It's not 'Punzel's' birthday!  It's Mommy's Birthday!"

Every now and then I have those weeks where everything is as crazy as a Johnny Depp movie.  Sometimes I wonder if I actually will laugh at this sometime or just try to erase it from my memory.  But it seems like when I have these rare weeks, I also get the really great gold nuggets from the kids that last forever. 

For example, sometimes when you've just about had it after dinner, take your kids outside and hand them a hose.  It'll be worth it: