First Primary Talk - check!

The Dude and I have been working on his Primary talk all week. After brainstorming and crafting his talk on service together (I asked him leading questions; he answered them in his own words), we selected visual aids. He helped me pick "pretty" pictures of Jesus, of people hugging, and also contributed some artwork:



(a very abstract picture of Jesus that I decided should remain unlabeled), and handwriting:



(He wrote it all himself, but decided to ask me for help in spelling "you" and "thank").

He's been increasingly excited about giving the talk all week. We practiced it a couple of times, and he woke up this morning ready to Go! We made it into Primary uneventfully - but during the scripture, the Dude bonked his head on the bench and proceeded to howl. He bleatingly made it back to where I was sitting and sobbed into my shoulder. Certain that he would be asked to give his talk any minute, I tried to calm him down because I did NOT want to end up giving his talk. Thankfully, they decided to insert all sorts of announcements right then, and he was raring to go again by the time they announced his talk.

As I knelt by him, I immediately regretted all the cautions I had given him about speaking too closely to the microphone because he spoke quietly and too far away from the microphone (it didn't help that his sister decided to raise her voice about then, too). After urging him to speak louder after every couple of sentences, by the end of the talk he was audible. He did a great job reading (even though I inserted one last-minute change on him), and was so sweet and earnest and eager that I almost started crying a couple times.

I think giving a talk in Primary was an important milestone I hadn't even realized was a milestone, but it made me very aware that my little boy is getting less little every day. When I take the time to really look at him - observe that his face is looking more boyish and less babyish, I am just overwhelmed with the thought that he is going to be gone before I even notice that he's grown up.

Right now, I think I'll just content myself to looking forward to the end of his current obsession with dying. I think the Big O will be grateful, too.

Sheared Son

The Dude desperately needed a haircut. But it is always so sad to say goodbye to my fluffy-headed darling and meet the growing man-child that appears after the haircut, so I put it off as long as possible. Interpreted: he starts screaming a lot because his hair keeps getting in his eyes.

So here he is:

Before




After



Yes, he is rubbing his eyes. It is because he's fake crying to avoid getting a picture taken, not a hair-related cause.

Carrots, Roasted

The Cita has always loved carrots.

She doesn't like them to be in little pieces, raw or cooked.

She just wants to gnaw them.

And suck ranch off of.

Mostly suck ranch off.

Tonight, she discovered the joy of roasted carrots. She's had them before, but her mama committed the cardinal sin of cutting them up. They were tossed to the floor with great vim (Joining the dregs of cheerios, half-chewed raisins, potatoes, chicken, and sprinklings of rice).

This time around, the Rosita got them whole (I figure it's easier clean up if nothing else). And she loved them. She ate at least 10 baby carrots (which for a one-year old is pretty impressive). At first, she just enjoyed being able to bite through a carrot on her own, but soon she spotted some excess dressing on my plate and demanded that I dip her carrot in it. Six carrots later, she took a break for a couple bites of brownie, but had to finish her meal with 2 more ranch dipped roasted carrots.

The moral of the story: There are better things than chocolate?

Happy First Anniversary!

A whole year of blogging under my belt. Wow.

Thanks to all of you that have stuck with me for all that time, and thanks to all you who have joined in since then (whomever you may be).

This hasn't turned into the blog I was expecting it to be, but I think I like it.

What?

An anniversary present for me?

Oh, no I couldn't.

Really.

Well, since you insist: for my anniversary present, I think I'd like you to tell me which post you like best.

Just go back to sleep..... or not

You know the day might be tough if: you were up reading The Diary of a Whimpy Kid online until 2 am (blame Roni), your children wake up around 7:15 when you were counting on them waking you up earlier to be somewhere by 8 am, your three-and-a-half-year-old spends the first 10 minutes awake shrieking like you bullwhipped him when all you did was comment, "I heard you yell this morning," and your 1-year-old decides to latch onto your leg when you're trying to do a roundhouse kick (no injuries).

You know the day might have been worth it when: the new dinner you tried was delicious (and it uses squash!), the two children are in bed by 7:30 pm, they laugh themselves to sleep, Netflix delivered a the start of a new series to watch, and there's Hagen Daas Amazon Chocolate ice cream to share with the Spozo.

There's a reason the Big O still wants a sister...

Thank you, Jesus!

I have heard people say, "Thank you, Jesus!" many times and many places. I never expected to hear it as part of my exercise routine. Maybe I should have been wary when I got the Tae Bo believers' workout, but I really wasn't expecting Billy Blanks to exhort me to shout, "Thank you, Jesus!" whenever I threw a punch.

I apologize in advance to anyone who says,"Thank you, Jesus!" around me. I might just punch you in the face. Nothing personal, of course.

Bi-Weekly Blood Rite

The Dude seems determined to draw blood from his own body at least twice a month. His biological clock must have an alarm labeled "bloodletting." When it goes off, a hormone is released that makes him clumsy enough to fall or fly or jump or dodge just the wrong way in order to fulfill the requirement.

Usually it involves teeth and lips; very rarely does it involve knees or elbows or any other easily scraped up or bangable part that would normally be associated with childhood accidents. (Although I am very glad he did not inherit his uncle's alarm labeled "stitches needed.")

Innovation of this week: involving the tongue. I can't say I'm attached to this addition. It meant a lot more blood. Which got on him, on me, and on the cement. Which meant more panic. Which meant more screaming. Which took more time to calm down to actually see the damage. Which turned out not to be horribly bad.

Yes, the tongue was not bitten through and did not require stitches. Although not severed, it still requires some special care. The poor darling has to have more milkshakes than usual. (I'm hoping this doesn't fall under positive reinforcement.)

On the bright side: now I know what bloodstained pavement looks like! Can't wait to bite my own tongue to have a good excuse to have a (chocolate) milkshake of my own!

Ratatouille!

I shucked off the motherly mantle for a few hours this morning (gracefully draping it across the Spozo's shoulders before I left) to go see Ratatouille with Jane Dough. I haven't had a girls' only activity for a very long time, and it was so nice to just laugh and talk without having to have one part of my brain keeping Constant Vigilance for dangers lurking nearby that I need to distract the Rosita and the Dude from enjoying.

I was infinitely glad to have a friend along because otherwise I would have been laughing alone quite a bit of the time, and I wouldn't have had anyone to make asides to during the movie.

Favorite scenes: the granny with the shotgun. linguini dancing while bitten by remy. the documents chase. the flashback scene. the rollerskating waiter in a snooty french restaurant. hmmmmm.... everything?

Be warned: you may have an irresistible urge to visit The French Laundry afterward. Luckily, the waiting list is over 5 months long, so you'll probably get over it by then.

Unless you watch the movie again.

I don't know if we can afford to own Ratatouille!

Life's a bit rosier now

I taught the Rosita "Ring Around the Rosy." I didn't, however, tell her it was all about the Black Death.

So I've been dizzier than usual this week.

But not as dizzy as when I get spun in this.

Apple of my eye

Considering that I married a computer nerd over 5 years ago, the fact that I have resisted the siren call of new gadgetry for as long as I have is somewhat astounding.

And now, it has happened. I am in the throes of passionate computer lust for the first time in my life. I might have wistfully envied before, but now I am desperately longing for the new mac mini with iLife 08 on it! The new iPhoto is just amazing. I can't wait to get my hands on it.

And of course, since I'll have such a cool new photo program, a new camera is imperative.

Insecurity

I want to thank Lady Steed for making my day yesterday.

All it takes is one compliment (and a cake stand) then I'm putty in your hands.

still on a YA fix

A Summer of Kings by Han Nolan

I recognized the name of Han Nolan, but I still can't remember what other book of hers I've read. Darn. A good book. Set in the 1960s at the height of civil rights with a young black man teetering between following Martin Luther King or Malcom X. Felt a bit preachy at times - a bit strained. But I enjoyed the relationship between Esther and her friend King-Roy and especially the tension over how they felt about each other individually as opposed to how they felt about each other's race.


Nothing but the Truth (and a few white lies) by Justina Chen Headley

This. was. hilarious. Headley made me believe in Patty Ho and all her worries, crazy mamas, belly-button divinations and not-fitting-in-ness. I loved the Kung-Fu hi-yah! and the Proofs she did. A great coming to feel comfortable with yourself and be strong girly book. Definitely going to be on my list of books to have the Cita read when she's a teen.


La Linea: A novel by Ann Jaramillo

I am all for novels that try to capture immigrating from Mexico and the hardships, but the few I have read so far have been lacking. Add this one to the list. The characters were wooden and the author used no imagery and evoked no emotion. When Miguel was mad, the description was, "Miguel felt so mad." I mean, really! An infinitely more entertaining (and non-fiction!) quick read on the (illegal) immigration issue is Coyotes by Ted Conover. Much more worth the time.

The Work and the Glory

I admit to one nasty laugh when I read, "'the work and the glory' isn't simply a set of serialized LDS novels but a sprawling, global effort that involves many more people than the Steed family and their 'Who's Who among Early Latter-day Saints' friends." (Trenton Hickman, Assistant Professor at BYU).

I further confess that I have read all nine (at least, I think there were only nine!) of Gerald N. Lund's Work and the Glory series AND his Kingdom and the Crown series.

I enjoy them for what I understand their purpose to be: making Church History a bit more accessible (and enjoyable) to many members that wish to know more about the founding years of the church (in both dispensations) but find it hard when faced with a list of boring dates and facts.

BUT

They are Not Great Literature. They are the Soap Opera version of Church History; the only reason I read all of them was because I had to know how they ended.

My question is this: Does anyone know of a Great Mormon Novel? One that explores the Saints' experiences without trying to make everything.. so rose-tinted? The closest thing I've encountered so far is Orson Scott Card's (appropriately named) Saints. But I'd like to think there are more out there.

Hypothetically speaking....

Say someone very nicely changed a dirty diaper. Say that same someone lobbed said diaper across the house just for the fun of it. Say the diaper is still there because it is beneath someone else's dignity to properly deposit it in the trash (especially when the someone else was the intended victim of said lobbing).

Hypothetically speaking, of course, do you think blogging about it would make someone decide to place the diaper into the proper receptacle?

Update: It worked!

Accepting Christ: a svithe

One of the hardest things for me to do used to be to accept help from people. Anyone! I was very self sufficient, and had complete confidence that I could get through anything on my own (which is generally true). I didn't realize how that very self-sufficiency created a barrier with other people or how well-rooted in pride it was.

Now, I know self-sufficiency is one of those good things we're supposed to work towards, but let me just put forth that excessive self-sufficiency is just another form of pride.

Obvious example: There is no way to salvation without Christ.

Yes, we're supposed to be working as hard as we can to Become like Christ, but we cannot forget that without him, no matter how good we are, it is not sufficient.

The phrase, "I will give away my sins to know thee" intrigues me because it seems so counter to what I understand as part of knowing God and accepting Him in my life. Why would He want all my sins? Weren't those the things he wanted me to do away with? How would giving them away help me?

I think the key here is humility. Simon Peter shows exactly how dedicated to Christ we can be, but how unwilling we are to actually partake of His great sacrifice. When Jesus was washing the apostle's feet, Peter declared that he would not have Jesus do it for him. Peter, more vocal than most apostles in declaring that they understood Jesus was the Son of God, still did not understand that to truly accept Him, he had to let him touch his most dirty members so He could wash them clean.

That unwillingness to let Christ to clean us is that old enemy, Pride. We all shrink from letting others see our weakness, our "dirty parts." It takes a lot of humility to admit that we are not completely clean - that we are not entirely self-sufficient. It is hard enough to admit it to our fellow men with all their own weaknesses; it is harder still to admit it to those Perfect beings who know it anyway.

But that is what we must do - admit our weaknesses, submit to humility, and surrender all our sins. Then, and only then, can Christ make us clean.

Finished: 7 am

After waiting in line (and helping it move along) and making it home by 1 am, I stayed up all night reading. I haven't done a true all-nighter (no naps at all!) for 10 years. I'd hear some small noise, look at the clock and realize two hours had passed since I last looked up. I cried a lot. I laughed a lot. I feel smart because some of my guesses were right and some more were almost right. Some I had completely wrong.

My brain is a bit fried, so I'm going to bed. I'm not going to say more than this because I don't want to spoil it: It ends the only way it could. Now finish it so I can say more!

More Rapid Reviews (Young Adult Version)

I like Young Adult Fiction. I like that I can read a book in a couple of hours. I like that there's less swearing and sex and violence. And if there is any, it's pretty tame. I read a lot of it. So here's my take on the most recent three (not counting re-reading favorites).

A Step From Heaven by An Na

I picked this one up because it had a pretty gold sticker on the front. Imagine being the immigrant daughter of an abusive drunk father. It doesn't sound pretty. But An Na's wonderful prose as she takes Young Ju through childhood into the cusp of adulthood is worth all the melancholy and bittersweet ending.

Kingdom of the Golden Dragon by Isabelle Allende

You don't need to read City of the Beasts first, but I'd suggest you do. Action! Adventure! Mysticism! Fighting ascetic Tibetan monks! Treasure to protect! Girls to rescue! Kings to save! It's all here, and it's great fun. I really need to read it in the original Spanish. I'm still glad Allende decided to take a stab at writing YA fiction even though it's not quite as good as her other works.

The Princess Academy by Shannon Hale

As usual, the awkward girl of the village gets to save the day as she sets her mind to win the Academy Princess-ship and first chance at wooing the Prince. Only she doesn't get the Prince! (To her relief.) Wary of all things "princess," I only read this because of the pretty silver sticker on the front. And as princess things go, it's a good one. I'd like some of that linder stone!

You will lose... everything

The new Harry Potter movie isn't perfect. But it's pretty gosh-durned excellent! Book purists will probably not like it, and people who haven't read Book 5 (yes, you!) will be confused because it doesn't take your hand to guide you into the world.

I remember thinking when Prisoner came out, "Wow! Dan Radcliffe can act!" I felt a similar sort of leap in ability when I saw him in this film, "Wow! He can ACT!" The same cannot be said for Miss Watson. She's using the same huffiness and eyebrow twitches that she's been (over)using for the last 3 films. I don't believe her - ever. Ok, I believe her when she's laughing during the post-first-kiss chat.

The sets were beautiful and amazing. Especially the Ministry. And everything exploding in it. The effects for the wizard battle were cool. The montage of the D.A. meetings (and outsmarting Flich) were great fun.

Times I laughed out loud: Many. Especially when Umbridge announced that students must maintain an 8 inch distance from each other. (Ever measured that BoM length?)

I liked Evanna Lynch as Luna Lovegood, and I agree that Imelda Staunton almost stole the show.

What most disappointed me was the music. Goblet of Fire had glorious music. I had hoped Patrick Doyle would be back again. This time, the music was fine when it was well in the background, but when it was being showcased, I cringed. It clashed with the general tone of the scene and lacked an epic quality which I've grown accustomed to (starting with John Williams).

The 2 scenes that fell far short of my expectations were when Umbrige gets carried off by the centaurs and when Harry and Dumbledore are talking in D's office after the Ministry. But I've never really liked Michael Gambon as Dumbledore anyway.

Most interesting additions that weren't in the book: Voldemort egging Harry on to use Avada Kedavra on Bellatrix after she's killed Sirius and Harry telling Voldemort he felt sorry for him.

Go see it. And then see Ratatouille!

Just like Magic!

After laboring like Cinderella after a hard day, the Wife hopes to hear something like:

"Wow! The house is clean! And you washed, folded and put away everyone's clothes! And there's dinner on the table! And the children are alive! May I just say that I am not worthy of you! Is there anything I can do?" and then perhaps get a kiss on the nape of the neck.

What really happens: The Husband walks in, wolfs down the food, then meanders into the living room to collapse in front of the Screen. The next morning, he's getting dressed and he thinks, "Looks like the Laundry Fairy visited again! Cool!"

Center of the Universe located in the Bay Area

Today the Dude proclaimed himself the "winner" of the "race."

Never mind that it was against the Cita, who just started walking 2 weeks ago.

Never mind that she doesn't understand the idea of winning. Chasing, she's got chasing down. She thinks she's winning if she's being chased.

Never mind that he made it so only he could win according to his rules.

Carpe diem, my boy! Your days of total supremacy are numbered!

Beauty of the Earth

Camping in the Redwoods was wonderful. Hiking through them was even better. Something about being surrounded completely by God's creations without too much tinkering... and thereby distancing from the original was just thoroughly relaxing.

I hadn't even thought of myself as particularly tightly wound until I began to unwind. One hike in particular, I felt all my anxieties and frustrations being siphoned off into the Greatness that I was surrounded by - like some type of stress osmosis. An overwhelming peace with simply Being that I don't find in my day-to-day life in the hustle and bustle of Getting Things Done.

I feel refreshed, and that is a lovely feeling. It makes me appreciate why God called His prophets up into the mountains to speak to them. I also appreciate all of our modern (in)conveniences, but there is something irreplaceable about being somewhere His work is so abundant that I don't feel in the urban jungle, no matter how well-tended it may be.

Jiggity Jig

No, we haven't dropped off the planet. No, we were not brainwashed to believe that computers are evil. We actually have been doing things. Interesting things. Really!

The most impressive one: We lived away from the internet for a whole week, and not one head imploded from withdrawal symptoms. (Although a lot of books were read and sleep caught up on.)

Then we lived in a house with only one computer for 6 internetting adults. And we didn't get into wrestling matches over whose turn it was. The Princess Tent provided the necessary incentive for us to behave decently.

America the Beautiful

"Whose birthday is it today, Mommy? Is it Daddy's birthday?"

"No, it's our country's birthday."

-Blank look-

"It's America's birthday."

"Oh. Is she coming over to share the cake with us?"

Recent Readings (Rapid Review)

Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

Two thumbs way up. Unless you're not married. Then I suggest you wait. Otherwise, a compelling read and a sweet (unorthodox) love story. I sympathized with the characters and the time traveling, which in other hands might have been more science-fiction-y feeling, had a depth of reality to it. Out of the entire book, I didn't like two scenes. Gomez was in both of them. One of them I just didn't get until I thought it over for a couple of hours, and even though I don't like it still, I can see why the author included it.

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

Really! I've never read it until now. And honestly, I don't like it. I never connected with Jane's insane attraction to a grumpy, brusque and deceitful man. I'm glad that he became decent-er before she married him, but..... not the tang I want in my romances.

Criss Cross by Lynne Rae Perkins

Cute. Favorite paragraph: "The hardworking necklace couldn't believe it. It let out an inaudible, exasperated gasp." I liked the drawings and pictures and quirkiness. But classic material it is not. There's no inspiring theme to it. It is cute.

My Turn

I'm sick and tired of being sick.

And of my children being sick.

It means we're the pariahs of playgroups and can't go anywhere except when absolutely necessary for survival. The Rosita has taken to scavenging for food. The Dude lives off a diet of applesauce, yogurt, and crackers with a random fishstick.

It means I've had minimal contact with friends for a month. It means we're starting to chat with the walls just to relieve boredom. It means that my head is about to explode from a combination of sinus pressure and whining leaving the aforementioned walls covered with a lot of blood and some snot.

At least it will give them something new to talk about.

My First (Official) Rant

I've been flip-flopping about whether to send the Dude to Kindergarten or not. The Spozo Maravilloso is all for the Dude going to Kindergarten, but not having attended Kindergarten for a significant amount of time, I really don't see the point of it.

Case in point: Here are just some of the curriculum requirements for reading:

Decoding and Word Recognition
1.14 Match all consonant and short-vowel sounds to appropriate letters.
1.15 Read simple one-syllable and high-frequency words (i.e., sight words).
1.16 Understand that as letters of words change, so do the sounds (i.e., the alphabetic principle).

AUGH!!! The dude can read "carbohydrate" from the cereal box. He would be soooooo bored. And when he's bored, he acts up. I understand that it's a good thing (especially for the teachers) to have children learn to sit down and be quiet even (especially?) when they already know what's going on, but honestly, I don't think it's in his best interest to go to class where he knows everything already.

UNLESS the teacher was someone awesome that understood what was going on and would find a way to make it worthwhile for him to go.

BUT I think that is really hard considering that the poor teachers are becoming increasingly bound by rules and regulations about what they can teach and how they can teach it.

I'm beginning to feel nostalgic for one-room schoolhouses where you just moved up in your lessons if you were ahead (it wasn't age based), but you were still in a social atmosphere where you could play with kids your own age.

What really set me out on this rant was that California Legislature is trying to pass a law (AB 1236) to make Kindergarten compulsory and to start government-run "Kindergarten Readiness" (ie-preschool) programs - AFTER the people of California just voted against this program. It is another example of these lovely lawmakers deciding they know what's best for us poor unenlightened souls that don't know what's best for ourselves.

AUGH!!!!

Phew! I feel much better now.

Forays into properties of baking soda

I had one of those "this is worth it" moments of parenting a couple weeks ago.

We had a music leader substitute and she brought cups with mysterious clear liquid that specially selected kids got to choose which spoonful of mysterious white powder they put into one of said special cups. (Think grade school science project volcano) All of them changed colors when the white powder was added, but if you got a fizzy cup, then you got to choose your favorite song for everyone to sing.

Many many cups were filled with mysterious white powder and changed to a different color, but by the end of singing time, only one fizzy cup had been discovered (it being kind of a disappointment because no one could see it fizz). Everyone waited with bated breath as the last child was chosen. The Dude won the honors (he deserved it - he had been singing every word he knew as loudly as possible).

He turned to me and shouted, "Mommy, I get to pick! I get to pick!" and then ran his way up front. After selecting his spoon, he quickly dumped it into a cup (a little too quickly for the music leader) and stirred.

Fizz! FIZZ! FIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

His joy could not be contained as red foam escaped all over. Laughing, he cried, "I got the fizzy! I got the fizzy!" Dancing back to his seat, he sought me out to smile glowingly at, just as if he had slain his first dragon. That smile (and the fact that he chose me to bestow it on) was the moment. I confess to temporary watery vision.

Of course, this meant that he completely forgot about choosing his favorite song and was way too excited to pick one. But as every little kid there knew - it wasn't about singing - it was about getting the fizzy cup!

Church - (sick child + spouse) = Enlighenment!

Today, for the first time, I went to church and the SM stayed home with a sick child.

I only had to get one other person to pay attention during church instead of the usual three. (ok, ok, two... we don't require attention of the rosita yet).

My enjoyment of church was increased by at least threefold.

Maybe I should wish for a child to be sick every week.

Or not.

Love, True Love

What makes a marriage work has been on my mind recently. What with a brother-in-law and a brother getting married a month apart and considering what's been going on in our extended families, it's shocking that it hasn't consumed my every thought.

I dated the SM briefly before his mission, but had been friends with him for most of our freshman year (amazing the allure of free food on the hungry young male - and I used that power most ruthlessly). After a whirlwind affair of IMing and emailing, he entered the MTC. I promptly "Dear John"ed him the first letter I sent to him as a missionary.

Why?

Because I decided that I didn't love him "like that." Ergo, the relationship should be terminated. I mean, every young girl knows you're supposed to be in love with anyone you're dating and considering to marry.

Of course, I still wanted him to be my best friend. And since he was desperate for mail (and he's such a stellar guy and he knew how stupid I was being) he didn't flush my address down the drain even though he was advised to do so by everyone in his missionary cohort.

Fast forward almost 3 years. I'm on my mission, he's been home for a little over 6 months. I get a letter from him, and I'm reading it on my bed. In a moment of shocking realization, I get dizzy with revelation. Here is a boy I don't have any romantic inclinations toward, but I'm writing him pages more than I write even my most loyal friends. He is the person I share my inmost thoughts with. And in that moment, I understood what a sham the necessity of being in love for a relationship to work - no, more than work - thrive is.

I think it is one of the biggest problems facing marriage today - people decide to terminate their marriages daily (and please understand, I'm not saying ALL marriages end for this reason) because they're not in love with their spouse anymore.

Being in love is a very wonderful feeling, but it is also (forgive me) a fleeting and shallow one. Being in love is also a selfish feeling - it is all about how you feel when you're around them. Or to use another limp phrase: how they make you feel. Considering how self-centered our society encourages us to be, I'm not too surprised that the importance of being in love has risen in prominence.

Love, True Love is the antithesis to being in love. It is a selfless feeling because the people you love are more important to you than you. True love is maintenance intensive and often exhausting.

A couple weeks ago some news place (CNN? MSNBC?) had a piece on arranged marriages in India - with the underlying astonishment that something as backward as arranged marriages would happen in our day and age. Especially since it was between two intelligent, consenting people!!! (They both had master's degrees). The man was excited about marrying a girl his parents had found for him. The woman was no less excited about marrying a man her parents had chosen for her instead of someone she had found herself. Both were given final say in whether they wanted to marry that particular person or not - so some choice was still involved.

Part of me is equally shocked that people are OK with their parents choosing their spouses. But most of me wonders what the dynamic of the couple would be where you know that you didn't choose each other. I wonder if somehow their marriage is more viable because it begins on a rational decision to unite instead of a hormonal rush. I wonder if they will be happier in the long run than many people who choose their own spouses because they aren't in love - they know they have to cultivate love for it to become Love, True Love.

I wonder.

The forgotten begotten

The Dude said, "You forgot me, mommy!" without any prompting yesterday. I miss hearing "You begot me, Mommy!" already.

At least he still says "basagna" and "what nelse?" to keep me entertained.

Today's misspoken word: "Mr. Crap" instead of "Mr. Carp" while reading A Fish Out of Water.

I laughed.

Was that wicked of me?

Reading, Writing, and 'Rithmetic

Cautionary note: You might want to skip this post if you are not related to us by blood or marriage. Contains gratuitous parental bragging that might make you not like me.



The Dude surprised me on our recent road trip. To keep him occupied because he had read and re-read all the books in the car (OK - all HIS books, he hasn't gotten interested in books without pictures yet), I started drawing pictures for him to color (not having had the foresight to bring a coloring book). I handed back a very well done Apatosaurus to be luridly colored. A few minutes later, the Dude called out, "Here, Mommy!"

I reached back, fully expecting to give him some (enthusiastic, but not necessarily entirely truthful) compliment upon seeing the page.

For a second, I wondered why he hadn't really colored in the dinosaur. Then it dawned on me: he had written "DiNO" across the bottom. Being a perfectionist already (I am deeply sorry he inherited this tendency), he had scribbled some of it out. We did the game a bit longer, but he got too frustrated, so we stopped.

I decided not to push him, because I really do worry about making him feel that he can't do things unless they are done perfectly.

But this past week, I turned from the computer to find him writing his name phonetically (if not accurately) into my notebook. He then charmingly wrote out "MOME" and "DADE."

I guess we only have to tackle 'rithmetic and then we're done with his schooling.

Home again, home again

I have just returned from spending almost two weeks in the company of my in-laws. I can honestly say I enjoyed myself.

Firstly, they complimented me on being such a wonderful mother and that my children were absolute angels. Although this was not true all the time, they were generous in finding good excuses for when they were not. It also helped that the Rosita loved her Grandpa and had him wrapped around her pinky finger tightly (having never been subjected to female wiles of a younger generation before, he was especially susceptible). Of course, one of the worst lapses into demonic temper happened when the Open House was in full swing and the Dude imploded.

Secondly, they let me boss them around quite a bit. I got to tell them what to eat and how to eat it. I rearranged their furniture just how I wanted it. I reeducated them on how to ask for things nicely. =)

And, thirdly, they deferred to my superior judgement in many matters. Of course, that was why they asked me to be there. To add an "arty" touch to the affair. Within reason.

We also fulfilled one of our most important goals of the week: No blood was drawn.

So now you may all know me as 'Sposita: Open House Arranger Extraordinaire! Excellent, tyrannical, nearly painless service!

Extra-Credit Svithe (in lieu of Sunday Conference)

So, after such spectacular attention during the Saturday sessions, it seemed improbable that I would actually get to listen to the Sunday sessions. And it wasn't. And although I had my husband break the Sabbath to buy cake ingredients (I had made a commitment to make this cake); and although I didn't listen to a lot of Conference because I was making said cake, I must declare: it was some d@*# fine chocolate cake with peppermint mousse filling and ganache!

I have to say there were some !!! talks: Elders Dallin H. Oaks and Henry B. Eyring gave spectacular talks that I will probably read and re-read. (I couldn't type their names without the middle initial. I tried, really I did!)

To make up for the lack of stimulating Conference coverage, I offer an additional thought that I had upon listening to Bonnie Parkin's talk on gratitude.

She mentioned at some time the 10 lepers and how only 1 of them came back to thank Him for the cleansing miracle that had taken place. It seems that when these lepers are discussed in various Sunday School lessons, the "how could they not?" aspect of the 9 "ungrateful" lepers seems to be a central theme.

I started thinking: What if, instead of looking at this as an event in the life of Christ, it was one of His parables?

My interpretation of this "parable" would be something like this:

Think of the 10 lepers as representative of the many blessings we recieve from Heavenly Father. Think of the 1 grateful leper as the percentage of thanks we give back to Our Father for all the many great gifts He gives to us that we have asked for. Does He revoke our blessings because we don't thank Him for them? Or worse - we don't even recognize them as blessings from Him? We write them off as happy coincidences or even claim we brought it about through our own merits. But no matter what, He lets us enjoy our blessings.

Each of us receives so much from Heavenly Father. We could thank Him all the day long, and it still wouldn't be long enough to thank Him for everything that we should be grateful for. (Sound King Benjamin-esque?) And the majority of the things we should be most grateful for, we don't usually think of thanking Him for.

I re-realized this when the Dude and I looked over an anatomy book and traced the various systems all over the body while I explained (in a vague sort of way) what they did and how they did it. Later that night as we prepared to say bedtime prayers, the Dude declared he didn't know what to be thankful for. I started listing all the things that we had learned about our bodies that day, and ended with this very impressive conclusion: "Heavenly Father designed our bodies to have all this cool stuff happen without us having to think about it. Isn't that cool?" He agreed and inserted some of those cool things into his prayer.

But it made me think: When was the last time (if there ever was a first time) that I thanked Heavenly Father for thinking of white blood cells? (the Dude was particularly impressed with them)

I am grateful that Our Father is willing to keep giving us gifts and giving them and giving them even though we don't notice nine tenths of the time. Although I don't consider myself ungrateful, I don't think I have earned my "Gratitude" Godhood patch, and certainly not my "Giving without Hope of Recognition or Reward" patch (or would that just be under the "Charity" patch requirements?). I'm glad He's got them and keeps renewing them. Eternally.

Saturday afternoon session, General Conference

Our two hour break goes too quickly and we wolf down lunch during the first couple of minutes instead of listening closely. They are in the Tabernacle!!!! We are watching via BYUTV internet connection - which seems to work better than the direct lds.org video connection, but not quite as good as the sound only connection.

The choir sounds so much better - the Tabernacle is a much more pleasant place to sing in - you can fill the place and not feel like it's disappearing into the void. Although it is a nicely furnished void. And much more comfortable.

President Gordon B. Hinckley presiding

Come come Ye Saints (beautiful, haunting, beautiful!)

Elder Boyd K Packer

Elijah. Nephi. Hmm... the Still Small Voice? Power in Music - not separated from Voice of the Lord. Ah. An elegy for the MoTab? No, all things Tabernacular.
Wait, now we're on the Word of Wisdom?

the RC is trying to smile her way to destruction. the Dude says the beetles are naughty and can bite your head off.

Now the destroyer is after us. Back to the Tabernacle - and the Choir. Stands as a standard.
As the Dew from Heaven Distill- traditional closing song of Choir's weekly Broadcast.

Elder Earl C. Tingey

History - past and future.
Brigham Young - a pioneer
The Dude is describing how various insects will hurt various members of our family to his daddy, and now he's decided he's had a very long time with him and has come to grace me with his presence.
One of America's Grestest Colonizers - the Perpetual Immigration Fund - education!
God is at the Helm - You stick to the ship, don't worry about anything else. The ship guided by Him. Do your post, get there safely.
Heber J Grant - practically an adopted son

President Hinckley
Brigham Young looking over Pres. Hinckley's shoulder - don't ask me what to do, ask the Lord - it's His work!
missing missing skipping stalled paused dying? hm. no spinning beach ball.
and we're back!
youth love Pres. Hinckley.... and it's gone again.
AACCK! missed the rest

Presiding Bishop Burton

The reconstrucion of the Tablernacle - more knee room! more music room! 14 coats of paint! The walls speaking - 1918 Pres. Joseph F. Smith "I have not lived alone these 5 months" received revelation of work for the dead.

Great Depression - Church Welfare Program - curse of idleness done away - self-respect help people help themselves. Work is reigning principle

1964 Elder Lee Parental Responsibility
We talk about the weather, don't do anything about it. - FHE 50 years old, not really done. (and still.... for some of us!)

stuck stuck stck Elder McConkie - testimony of Jesus' atonement

1995 - women of the church forewarn - Proclamation of the Family

SING!!SING!! I don't know this hymn that well - the melody is familiar, but I don't know many lyrics

HOW FIRM A FOUNDATION!
the kidlets are really restless - the Rosita goes back and forth between her mommy and daddy. The Dude monologues to his two Thomas books.

Only one verse! I feel cheated!

Bonnie D. Parkin (recently General RS President)
women of the church share many great and glorious privledges
attack of the Cita! no power cords for you!
express gratitude - oblivious to Lord's hand. Don't murmur! universe permeated with Richness of God - see Him everything
live in thanksgiving daily
Dude says I should read the Spanish Thomas book to her because she wants it
the grateful leper (interesting the 1 in 10 ratio, eh?)
gratitude is acknowledgement of Lord's hand in our lives
be grateful for trials - more than surface gratitude

Elder Marlin K. Jensen

memory, remember
The RC has self-induced pain while exploring the house - and just entered the bathroom. I hope the toilet is closed! It must be because she exited immediately.
phone call from someone who forgot about conference
i'm sorry, Elder Jensen, but your talk is lost on me.
Ah! the First Vision! Memorizing scriptures!
much screaming as the SM tickle tortures the Dude (it's a toss up as to who's more bored)
look to past and future to live righteously in the present
Forget yourself and go to work!
the SM puts forth movement to banish children to their bedroom
most important: always remember Jesus
get spirit when take sacrament - spirit brings all things to remembrance

President James E. Faust

kudos to the presiding bishopric for restoration of tabernacle.
the Dude is singing "you are my friend" to RC as he waves two books in her face
early temples not big enough to hold all members who want to attend - outdoor meetings by temple in the grove people sat out in grove while listening to Prophet Joseph
tabernacle contemplated for Navoo inspiration for the Salt Lake Tabernacle

President Tomas S. Monson

Storytime!
8 years old Baptism - not as common for fathers to baptize their children
the Dude attempts to load the rest of the cereal box we cut up for the Friend Conference dial on his back to haul to the trashcan
Speedy Repentance - Vietnam War?
The Dude gets his yogurt and the RC gets cranky that she didn't get any!
No, she is just tired beyond all reason
Misty deciding to get baptized.
Time out for nursing the RC to oblivion, sweet oblivion
Oblivion didn't last.


President Hinckley!!!!

reminisce
Dedicatory Prayer for the Tabernacle

The Spirit of God (Mac Wilburg again!) the RC adds her shrill soprano screams to the rendition
It would be a lot more impressive without all the blips inserted by the poor streaming. Still inspiring. Not a performace.

Benediction

Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring!!!! This has been one of my favorite musics for many moons - I hear the Joy in it.

Until tomorrow!

General Conference (Saturday Morning Session)

~
I decide to appropriate Theric's idea of blogging General Conference.

9:00 am! We have already gorged ourselves on the traditional sacrificial donuts. MMM! Crispy fatty goodness. Especially the chocolate old-fashioned.
The SM is cuddled in his blue fluffy.

Glory to God on High!
President Thomas S. Monson: We're so glad you all can hear us.

Sweet Hour of Prayer - I haven't prayed for an hour for a really long time. Years. The SM says hour is metaphorical. Duh.

Agreed: We need a better couch to sit on for extended periods of time

Statistics in the morning? I thought it was always the Saturday afternoon session!
The Dude learns the joys of sustaining General Authorities.
President Monson's Spanish accent is so cute.
We're losing the RS General Presidency and the YW General Counselors!!!!! Well, at least it's not too many new faces. =) Unanimous in the affirmative as usual.

Auditing Guy
Everything is legit. Your tithing goes for things good and great. Don't complain or doubt.

Growth and Activity 2745 stakes! 344 missions! 630 district 27475 wards! 12,868,606 members! 53164 missionaries! sacramento temple dedicated! (and helinski) total temples: 124.

Cita Bonita twitches her way to sleep without too much complaint.

Elder Richard G. Scott
Prayer

Converse! Prayer good for everyone, anytime. Motives trump flowery language. Father is listening. Ask the right questions - honestly seek what He wants for you. Never too unworthy to pray! Vocal prayer important. Learn from Pres. Hinckely's prayers - prayed from heart (hem,hem opening prayer-talkers!) Complete responses not the norm - come in packets - like a treasure hunt! Exercise faith! Answers seldom during prayer itself.
Why prayers not answered as wished? Sometimes hard to recognize what is best in long term.

Both the Rosita and the SM are napping now.

When have no response - express thanks? - Heavenly Father trusts you to make decisions in the moment.

The Dude decides cleaning is more exciting than listening to Elder Scott.

Testify: Father will always answer prayers in best way for your Eternal Good!

MoTab: Put Your Shoulder to the Wheel - I don't like this extremely legato and calm version - it's like work is something to dream about.

Elder Jenson

Hymns = sermons. Nearer to the Lord through music than any other thing except prayer. Music a performance when it brings attention to itself instead of bringing revelation.
Hymns of the Restoration: Praise to the Man, Come Come Ye Saints, We Thank Thee, O God for a Prophet, and others. Nourishing hymns lead to conversion.

Hymns and appropriate music at home. Sing hymns as lullabies. Be punctual and listen to prelude music. Exit meetings reverently to extend spirit of meeting. SING! Listen to Hymns more frequently in homes.

Elder ?

Addressing the youth. I exempt myself from strict attention: I am no longer a youth, and my children are nowhere near youth age.

The Dude experiments with the vacuum and attachments. Without power. He then declares, "Mommy, you need raisins!" I defer and request a drink of water instead. He complies.

Stand and Sing! WE THANK THEE O GOD FOR A PROPHET!

Elder Jeffery R Holland

By words that all things are done. Power and sanctity of words.
Quoting the apocrypha! Stinging whips. Ouch!
Tongue a little member: set on fire of hell - untameable, deadly, poisonous tongue.
Perfect man - husbands! greatest gift = wife. voluntarily gave herself to you - think of her as your queen! Cold, caustic words - that which cometh out of a mouth defileth a man. Verbal and emotional abuse against wives (and vice-versa!) biting and acrid - drive people love futher away NO CATTY REMARKS, gossip, etc.
Children shaped by how we speak to them. and their faith in us and their faith in God - be Constructive. Never compare children (even if think are right). Praise child for what they are. Keep away from culture of comparing, competing. See only complaint makes us all miserable. Don't complain and moan - in Golden Age - everything too yellow! Nephi -- hit me, I can still hear you!
Maxim for living: no misfortune is so bad that whining about it won't make it worse.
BE YE KIND ONE TO ANOTHER.

The Dude distracts by reading me an animal babies book.

Speak by tongue of Angels. Speak with a new tongue - full of faith, hope and charity.


Elder David Bednar
Parable of the Pickle

Orchards and veggies - canning season! Temporal Self-reliance, provident living.
Cucumber to Pickle as We are to Being born again in Christ
1. Preparing and cleaning.
2. Immersing and Saturating in Brine (steady, sustained, complete for curing to happen correctly)
3. Sealing - all impurities removed.
CANNOT BE HURRIED OR SKIP STEPS
Mortal life to be changed, transformed. New creatures in Christ.

1. cleansed by Aaronic priesthood ordinances - and REPENT (preparing)
2. Spiritual rebirth - gradually and imperceptibly motives become aligned with God's)
SALT=covenants baptism - walk in newness of life sporadic and shallow dipping won't produce spiritual transformation to picklehood
3. Purified and sealed by Holy Ghost consecration

Search Ponder and Pray - this is one of the primary songs that I know. The MoTab seems lacking in passion today.

The Dude practises couch diving. SM and RC briefly awake during Dude tantrum, then fall asleep again.

President Thomas S. Monson!
We're trailing clouds of glory again
crucify Christ anew - denying divinity of Christ.
Man trying to deny Christ eventually came back to faith - wife died. Not her - soul gone.

Dude exiled for kicking.

Storytime - family of muscular dystrophy
reality of resurrection
Die we must. But the end it not be.
Easter - He is Risen!!!!!
Somtimes I think he's been general authority for too long because he speaks in cadences that lullabic in nature - more so than any other speaker I know.

Come Thou Fount
The men sound like they mean it for the first time today and now the women do, too - and I Feel it. The SM wakes to listen to it. We love Mac Wilburg!

The SM and I agree that we liked Elder Holland's remarks best - probably because it was most applicable to us. I wonder if we're spiritually masochistic.

Spoza claims Victory!

We have become online Settlers of Catan addicts. As soon as the kidlets are tucked away for the night, we each gravitate to our separate computers and open a game of Catan. Many man-hours of productive time have been lavishly wasted.

Tonight, I finally claimed victory because I grasped this amazing concept that to win demands that I be ruthless! Utterly ruthless! And when the SM begs for some commodity, I turn him away empty handed. And when I have a development card that is really quite cruel to use, I play it anyway and delight in the wicked false laughter.

That, and the dice were kind. I'd like to take credit for this, too, but I don't think I can claim my brainwaves caused the dice to "roll" in my favor. Although I have some pretty nifty brainwaves.

Hmmm... a game that encourages ruthlessness and selfishness... I think I may need a new hobby.

Can you Feel the Love?

SM: I really love you because sometimes I'll close my computer... just for you.

me: That's love!

zoom! zoom!

The Spozo Maravilloso declared that today, rain or shine, he was going to test drive a Mazda 5. So we all piled into our car and adventured into downtown Oakland. I knew it was all part of his plot to convince me that we need a new car, but I actually liked this car (in theory) and I was looking forward to meeting it in person.

Earlier in our marriage, I did something that made the SM very happy. I worked for GM in one of their call centers. Now, the fact that I had a job in general made him happy but he was, in general, exceptionally pleased with the results of that summer. In particular, the fact that now I actually had opinions about how cars looked and could now join with him in lamenting the lack of innovative design available from most manufacturers.

Yes, the SM loves his cars. But not Porsches or Corvettes or really any other traditional guy cars to like - he likes to obsess over family sedans and minivans. And alternative energy cars - his new love is the Tesla roadster (a sporty car - I don't understand his rules, but he has them and adheres to them strictly).

The only lasting evil of my GM experience: I call all things with wheels "vehicles" which drives (ha,ha) him absolutely batty. Why, he has yet to explain adequately.

Back to our experience today: We loved the sliding doors on both sides. I liked the fold-down seats in the back. I liked the hatchback. Minuses: the "sport" version (read: no bells and whistles) only comes with one interior color option: black. It's like they want every particle of dirt to show so you can feel like you're "sporty". Even if you're not. I guess having kids would make me "sporty" because it would look dirty all the time.

And they barely come in manual. Apparently, you have to special order it.

Darn.

Which makes my dream of buying one used (with all the gizmos how I want them) to be an even more impossible dream.

We confused the Dude by taking it for a whirl. Before we buckled in, he was saying, "Daddy, I like this car. We buy it now?" While we got lost, "I'm so much taller! I like our new car." And once he realized it wasn't ours and it wasn't going to be ours, "I'm hungry."

What a pragmatist. At least there's one in the family.

Book Group Report

After an eight month hiatus from book group, I got to go to one tonight. I had read the book (thanks, Lady Steed!), and that helped my enjoyment greatly. But tonight's book group was especially fun because there were other Really Cool people there that were willing to make comments and have favorite parts of the book.

Before, I always felt like I was dominating the discussion, making loud remarks, and being either the bane or blessing of the person in charge of leading the discussion. Tonight I wasn't the only one speaking out about what tickled my funny bone, gave me pause, or provoked deep thought.

And I gave two of those Really Cool People a ride home.

And there were delectable brownies.

Most interesting discussion topic of the night: Are humans capable of more cruelty towards other humans than "demons"?

I'm older than I've ever been

I didn't realize that I am so old that when I was little there were no cars. Apparently that was what one of my students told his mom after our Primary lesson (he was quite adamant about it).

He must've missed the part of the story that I was on my mission in another country (where the majority of people do not have cars).

He also missed the part about me getting better with no complications after having surgery in a ... well, not a third world country, but imagine the U.S. in about the 1950's. Put it this way: the entire hospital had one phone; which I was wheeled to in order to convince my parents that I was very much alive and nowhere near dead.

Also according to him, I never got better. This concerns me, because the whole point of the story was that it was a kind of miracle that everything went well. I really hope my other students didn't have such garbled facts to repeat to their parents or my release from Primary is imminent.

Or maybe he really thinks I'm that old and sickly.

Beware! Sharp!

After much wailing and gnashing of gums, the Rosita Chiquita has two teeth!

Finally!

zing!

I've been craving lemon bars for the past week. I'm not one to crave lemon bars. Usually it's brownies with ice cream and fudge sauce.

But then, I just found a great recipe that brings superior results according to lemon bar afficionados. It also helps that I have an excellent source of fresh (and free!) lemons thanks to Lady Steed.

Chocolate has lost its allure for the time being. Too much of a good thing and all. Perhaps I'll nibble some infrequently. Purely for it's health benefits, of course. I'm sure the old passion will re-ignite soon enough.

Until then: Lemon bars, anyone?

it ain't no Harry Potter

So, I just finished reading Magic Street by Orson Scott Card. I've been wanting to read it for a while and it finally got old enough that the library had it on the shelf.

I enjoyed reading it. The plot was twisted enough, the main characters believable and decent, the fantasy of it interesting (although I've decided that describing appearances is not Cards' forte)

But... there was something fish-out-of-water-ish with it. Although I felt Card captured the emotions of people pretty well (as he usually does), I just cringed at his "African-American" dialogue. He made several in-story references about how the neighborhood kids learned their "ebonics" from the TV, kinda like he was explaining away the stiffness they spoke it with - like it was a foreign tongue.

I felt better reading the acknowledgments where he explained the genesis for this book because he knew it wasn't perfect. He tried his best.

But it was still written as an outsider. I didn't feel he caught the soul of the African-American community. Not that I would really have any experience with that, but I really felt that although mentioned, the passion or soul or fire that I feel from my African-American friends is lacking in some essential way.

Except, interestingly enough, in the preaching parts. There, I found the dialouge completely compatible with the setting. And I always love it when Card throws in some religious discussion without making it seem forced or trite - well, except in Children of the Mind. But that's a different story.

That said, I thought he did a good job of capturing the difficulties that African-American youth deal with when going to school - having to be labeled as a "tom" or an "oreo" or a "traitor" (which were all definitely used on the students in my classes at school) if you excelled.

All in all.... a good read. But not Card's best.

I scream, you scream.... Man, I need some ice cream

Today I almost threw in my mommy towel to head for the hills.

The Dude has been especially whiny for the past week, but today he overwhelmed and vanquished my tolerance for screaming. I haven't decided whether this is a new stage of sibling rivalry (because whenever the Rosita Chiquita squawks, she gets picked up and cuddled until she stops) or if this is just a new level of "terrible three"s, or if it is his new favorite way of getting instant attention.

If it were over not getting what he wanted, it wouldn't be so bad. I can handle that and even feel a little good that I am being a good parent and NOT bowing to his even whim. But the instigation of every screaming session is some minor hurt: a finger in the door, the RC accidentally (it really was an accident this time) pulling his hair, tripping and falling on a knee. I guess this could be because he got so much attention for his spectacular fall the other day that made him look like Dracula for several hours because he kept bleeding. We had to call the doctor, make a special trip to the store, check the injury every so often.....

Whatever it was, it seemed like most of my day was spent holding one screaming child or the other or BOTH. In the afternoon, I lost all sympathy for the Dude's wails and consigned him to his bed until he stopped screaming and would TELL me what the matter was.

In between the screaming sessions he was a good helper and very cheery and sweet. He especially enjoyed cleaning the kitchen table off with his spray bottle and cleaning cloth. We read The Ugly Pumpkin ( a long-time favorite) with great gusto. The RC had a very a happy time exploring the interior of our car and gumming the Tic-Tac container to death (so the container survived fairly well, but the Tic-Tacs themselves will never recover).

It was these delicious moments that fueled me until they finally, blessedly, went to bed.

Huzzah!

the great shoe caper

The Spozo Maravilloso has been venemous towards my shoes for a year now. Not that I loved them - or even liked them, but they were functional and didn't let the rain get my feet wet. Apparently, the SM took it as a personal affront that his wife would be running around in shoes like that. He also laments that I don't have any pointy-toed shoes. So after many months of plotting, he finally succeeded in shoving me out of the house (sans kidlets!) to San Francisco with a woman that he trusted to get me some fashionable shoes.

Luckily, the woman he chose is very fun to go shoe-shopping with, and we were looking forward to hanging out (sans kidlets!) She whisked me into her favorite shoe shop (Steve Madden) and started picking out shoes for me to try on. Something strange has happened with my feet - or the sizing, because I used to be at least a 9, but I was fitting into eights and eight-and-a-halfs.

I shocked even her by asking to try on the really three-inch heels instead of the dinky ones. Even more shocking is that they felt MORE comfortable.

I dithered about spending so much on shoes and also about the SM liking them so much that she called him to wrench the promise out of him that since she approved of them, he would be happy no matter what. She also divulged some top secret information: I could go over budget and he wouldn't care. So I did. By a shocking amount. I felt encouraged that another girl in the shop bought the same pair of shoes as me - without even consulting my friend!

What really soared my fashionista soul occured in Payless Shoe Source.

I wanted some real walking shoes, too, so we decided to check out Payless (which, both of us reckon has to be radically different than the other Paylesses around - maybe being in Nordstrom's building has something to do with it). She pointed out (in her Canadianness) a couple pairs of suitable "runners," but I was drawn to some green with lavendar trim and laces beauties.

They are completely impractical but very fashionable (seems to go hand in hand), and get this: she ended up buying the same pair (in a different size, of course). I thought it charming that she asked my permission to get the same pair - apparently true fashionista code demands that friends can't buy the same thing. Luckily, I have a fairly mild strain of fashionistaness, so I took it as a compliment instead of an affront.

My only advice to shoe-shoppers: don't wear the fashionable shoes immediately to hike up San Francisco hills. Blisters may result.

So now I can't wear my fashionable shoes for a couple days.

Darn.

The First Step (a Svithe)

I always love hearing a convert's testimony, so when the Primary manual asked that I get someone with a strong testimony of Christ to share their feelings with my class, I immediately thought of a dear sister in the ward who got baptized last year and has been a faithful member since.

She was delighted to be asked.

After I introduced her to my class, she gave the most wonderful testimony that she could have to my 4-5 year-olds. She even sang "Jesus Loves the Little Children" for them. I started crying because of how passionately she could speak of her love for Jesus in simple terms.

Of course, my class thought I had gone batty.

It made me reflect that great testimonies are not made with many flowery words or nice anecdotes or even quoting nice scriptures. Great testimonies come because of great faith. That's why even leaders in the church can say the same, simple words, but the impact of them is greater because their underlying faith is at least the size of a mustard seed.

Where as of right now, mine would be closer to a vanilla seed. But growing....

Advisory Notice

Do not put your cleaning toothbrush (you know, the old toothbrush that you use for scrubbing poo out of your baby's clothes with stain remover) in the bathroom with your current toothbrush.

Especially if they are the same color.

Yea.

Progress Report

After listening to first-time mothers rave over how their babies (younger than my daughter by quite a bit) have "favorite animals" and how much they loved seeing them at the zoo, I felt alarmingly guilty that I didn't know her favorite animal, etc. Let me be honest: I felt guilty that I hadn't even thought of her having a favorite animal.

Last night, I had the Dude in bed, and the Rosita had just woken up from a nap, so we enjoyed some rare mommy-daughter time. I know many things about her, don't get me wrong, but I didn't realize how smart she is! =)

We played Up! Down!, an extremely complicated game which involves standing, sitting, lots of exclamation points, and giggling. I was amazed that she would purposefully sit down then look up expectantly for me to say "Down!" and then laugh her head off when I did. I had forgotten how smart babies are.

Which is really shocking, especially since she has shown herself to be a notorious penny-finder-putter-in-mouth-er and a very picky only-want-to-eat-big-people-food-er (how she tells this is beyond me).

And although I might not know which is her favorite animal, I do know she favors whichever animal her brother is playing with at the moment.

Which he does not appreciate.

I guess he hasn't heard that "imitation is the sincerest form of flattery" bit.

Or perhaps (perhaps!) he doesn't know what "imitation" "sincerest" and "flattery" mean.

Yet.

The Grass is Greener

I've discovered that it's better not to know what's on the other side of the hill sometimes. That ignorance truly is bliss.

I was completely fine with the fact that my children wake up between 6:30 and 7:30 every morning in the winter and between 5:30 and 6:30 during the summer. So maybe not completely fine, but it was "normal" and I could handle it.

But I've since discovered that some children sleep in until the blessed hour of 9 every morning. Every morning!

I'm trying very hard not to imagine what life would be like if I had that much more time every day sans (awake) children. I could take a shower in peace. I could read a book. Use chemical cleaners. Write a letter. Exercise. Plan menus. Think. Breathe.

Whew! Excuse me while I banish those provocative images from my mind and return to basking in ignorance.

For your amusement

I was going to post some class assignment poetry from high school, but I can't find the anthology book. It was a very sappy love sonnet in a Shakespearean style, truncated because I didn't like the last couplet and didn't spend the brain-time to rewrite it. But up next to the rest of the high school love poems (I love you so much, I'd give up my sneakers for you), it sounded quite good.

Maybe I'll find it later.

Entering the Shadow

It's the one kinda illegal thing I do - or is it?

I started up again because I missed the thrill.

And the money. I haven't done it since returning to California, and it is much more profitable now, let me tell you! I could triple my previous rate easy!

In a couple weeks, I'll be living the easy life.

Ok, so not really, but I'll have some extra pocket money. And that's not all so bad.

Life Goes On (a svithe)

Sometimes we depend upon the Resurrection too much.

Not that it won't happen. Not that our bodies won't be perfect. But that because our bodies are perfect, everything else will be perfect. I suspect that we'll be surprised at how imperfect our souls still are (although it will be easier to follow Our Father).

We'll probably be surprised at how much our afterlife is just a continuation of our current life.

We hear a lot about how this life is a preparatory state. I don't know why, but that makes me feel as if perfection is supposed to be a long way off - and I can keep putting it off. I don't feel the urgency to change, and being the procrastinator I am, I require that rush of adrenaline to finish (and then crash). Perfection being the longest of long-term projects, I feel like I'm doomed to failure.

I was reading through a Madeleine L'Engle quote book, and (now I can't find it) she said something about how heaven will be familiar because we will have been living it. And that bringing heaven to earth is what being Christian is all about. It made me reflect on how un-heavenly I've been recently.

So, I'm going to stop putting off my heaven on earth. Tomorrow.

Bambi meets train and wins

While visiting the Grandparents over Christmas break, the Dude obsessed over his trains. The tracks covered all the available floorspace of an entire room. He wanted to play all day. This is not a problem. That he wanted someone to play with him all day was.

In consequence, the "train shift" came into existence. All adults in the house were expected to do their fair share and play trains with the Dude at least once during the day.

Nearing the end of one day after a late dinner, the Dude began, with his best polite asking voice, to ask if someone would like to play trains with him. Having gotten (polite) refusals from Grandpa and me, he turned to his daddy. The Spozo Maravilloso, not wanting to say a direct no to the Dude, stalled, saying, "You just want someone to be really nice and play trains with you, don't you?"

The Dude paused thoughtfully for a moment. He turned to Grandma and asked (still in his nicest voice), "Grandma, are you nice?"

Grandma went and played with him.

After we all laughed for a good five minutes.

Burying Talents

I did it! I finally did it!

Let me preface this with the fact that whenever I get in front of a group of people (unless it is immediate family only) to do something by myself (whether it be piano or singing or speaking), I am sick for the entire day before. Physically ill. In the bathroom. When the performance begins, I only have about 30 seconds before the jitters set in. I jitter so badly, I have to guess where my fingers will hit the next note (and sometimes I guess wrong since I can't replicate the conditions when I practice at home) or my knees feel like they are about to jitter away from by body entirely.

So, when the Christmas Musical Fireside I organized seemed to be low on musical numbers and I had written a number of (unsuccessful) pleading emails inviting others to perform, I gulped and signed myself up for a solo (and also got a quartet together). I enjoy singing in groups. I have had a lot of people tell me I have a beautiful voice. But I grew up in my mother's shadow.

She has always been rather proud of her voice. If she sings in a choir, you can hear her well. If she sings in a congregation, you can pick her out. She has a beautiful voice.

I never got praise for singing from her. I distinctly remember coming home for Christmas break one year. I had been in a section of University Chorale that semester. I was practicing for our family Christmas program and singing along with one of the Hymns. Mom came in and said, "Your singing has greatly improved since you left." That was the solitary compliment I ever got from her.

My sudden burst of confidence came from a sweet older lady who recently informed me that I had almost been asked to perform a solo for a funeral, and that the other person who was considered (and asked) is someone who teaches voice lessons. If said voice teacher had been able to come, I most certainly would not have attempted to sing.

So I practiced, but mostly when the SM wasn't around because even HE made me nervous (he was in Men's Chorus for several years and has a great voice). The Dude and the RC really enjoyed it, and even asked for encore performances.

So I did it. I stretched my comfort zone. And I didn't fall over. And I didn't screech. And I didn't lose my place.

So I'm glad I did it.

I don't know if I'll do it again.

Limited Edition DVD

~Behind the Scenes~
~Soundtrack~

The Spozo Maravilloso has been working diligently on our annual photo and movie DVD. The background music for the slideshow is usually the hardest part of the project. The movies: we just pick the ones we like. The photos: we just pick the ones we like. The music: has to fit the pictures. can't be too sad or depressing. can't be too alternative. can't be too quiet. can't be too loud. can't have dynamics.

I discovered a new limitation this year: The SM declares a unilateral ban on music that sounds "too country."

The SM has been asking for suggestions of music. Since I happen to like some country-ish type music and it is not too sad or alternative or quiet, I mention them. With a scowl and rolling of eyes (which the SM will swear he Never Does), it is rejected. Forcibly.

Musical differences aside, I think it is going to be great, although I'm not sure if our parents will keep the sound on while the movie is running. (The music diverts from the traditionally classical past editions).

~Marketing Shpeel~

The limited edition Catanzaro Family 2006 DVD (sure to be a great hit with the fans of the Dude and Rosita Chiquita) will be available only through select channels starting tomorrow! Reserve yours now!

the Dude turns Three!

Today was the birthday.

Unfortunately, it was also the choir practice and church Christmas Party day.

So, sandwiched in between these activities, we had a small party for the Dude. Rosita Chiquita didn't even attend (due to an unavoidable appointment with a nap). Then again, the Dude probably appreciated sole attention from his parents. Probably the best birthday present she could've given him.

He didn't blow out his own candles since we can't convince him that blowing out has no "f" in it. (We've tried, we've really tried! Any suggestions?) We've only recently convinced him that three has no "f" in it. Good thing, too, or he'd go around saying "I'm free!" and I'm sure someone would snatch him up because he's such a deal.

He ate his chocolate cake with chocolate mint frosting that he helped make. He opened presents.

He was completely satisfied.

So why do I feel vaguely guilty?

Comparative Satisfaction of Old Shirts and Birthdays: A Complete Analysis

The more birthdays you have, the less exciting they are.

I don't know if it is simply because as you accumulate more of them, the less the glamour of having yet another wears off. It is all about diminishing returns.

The first triple fudge brownie sundae with mint chocolate fudge sauce is really great, but the second isn't so great. Perhaps birthdays are more like shirts. The first few are really great, but after a certain point, they're just overflowing out of the drawers and closets and littering the floor. And then you get another. Yeah.

I'm to the overflowing drawer (singular!) stage of birthday satisfaction.

Too bad you can't get rid of birthdays like you can old shirts. Then I could just make room for more and enjoy the next as much as I did my first five.

Not that I didn't enjoy my birthday. The Spozo Maravilloso exerted himself to make sure my birthday was wonderful. He spent way too much on my present (as usual), made a scrumptious carrot birthday cake with ginger orange cream cheese frosting (highly unusual), and also "helped" the Dude pick out a gift for me (a first!).

The Dude was so excited to give me a present. He made sure that I opened his present first. Seeing his excitement made me enjoy opening presents all over again (So, maybe having young kids around helps you get rid of some of those old shirt birthdays. Hey! Now I understand why grandparents conspire to have grandchildren around come Christmas day).

SM was also quite excited for me to open his present because it represented the fruit of a year-long search! (See below) The perfect gift (for me)! He determined (with consensus) that it is not only beautiful, but it also reflects my personality perfectly. He hasn't explained the specifics of why. Not that I disagree, I'm just curious.



What do you think?

Chasing Cousins

Trying to catch these two is like capturing an electron in its probability cloud around an atom. (In other words, good luck!) So, just like them, what we get is an approximation of where they might be at any given time. And it's kinda blurry.

Stripped Bare

The Dude is relishing his role as older (and wiser) brother. Today, he determined that Rosita Chiquita had soiled her outfit sufficiently to merit changing it. Without consulting his superior (me), he unsnapped and had successfully removed 3 of 4 limbs from the sleeper before said superior noticed what he was up to and queried his logic.

I discovered that the garment was not badly soiled at all, and determined that it was mostly for the fun of removing someone else's clothing (instead of us removing his clothing) and that it lead to a long-time favorite of his elder brotherly activities: choosing her replacement clothing. Since the RC was enjoying the process as well, I didn't protest his precipitous action.

Another activity the Dude particularly enjoys is lugging Rosita around (very short distances) by picking her up under her armpits. Under close supervision! I can imagine that having someone smaller than you that you can move around is quite thrilling when you've been moved around by people bigger than you for as long as he has.

Ah, the joys of siblinghood!

A Pain in the Rear

While in the final stages of dinner preparation yesterday, the Dude came up behind me jabbering away. I confess to parental inattention until he latched on to my leg and yelled, "Great green grabber bug monster!" (courtesy of More Bugs In Boxes) He quickly earned my whole attention when I realized he was trying to bite me! In the rear! Before I could set the spoon down, turn around and wrench him away, he succeeded.

With my most commanding mommy voice (tinged with consternation and anger), I sent him to his room. Normally, this might cause some distress, but he was downright in floods about it. As I perplexedly turned back to spooning in the last of the potato cake, trying to fathom the reason of why (besides that he was tired beyond all reason) he would bite me, I realized he was probably not trying to inflict damage.

With dinner in the oven, I went to console the still sniffling tragically Dude. After hug, a snuggle, and an explanation of how to "pretend bite" (I hope you other parents know what I'm talking about - you know the nibbling on toes or neck to incite hilarious laughter?) with NO TEETH, life was bearable again.

As Christmas and Birthdays Approach

The Dude and I share the unfortunate circumstance of being born in December. I've discovered that for most people figuring out two things to get us is just too taxing in such a short (and admittedly already overshopped) season. Most luckily for me, I married someone that loves excuses to shower me with expensive frivolities, and laments that there aren't more occasions.

Since the Dude is really too young to come up with his own list... Scratch that. He probably would be perfectly able to have a list if he were more commercially savvy. Since we don't own a TV, he doesn't think he needs tons of stuff. Understand correctly: he always likes more new stuff (his favorite of the moment is almost invariably the most recent acquisition), he just doesn't have a list of things that he's been dreaming of because some marketer knew how to appeal to three-year-old boys.

Advantages: I choose the mayhem that enters my house. I don't have to harden my heart against his pleading Bambi eyes.

Disadvantages: I have to divine which things he will like. This is harder than you might think. I worry about becoming one of those parents that gets what I want to get him instead of what he really wants.

Lately, I've taken to letting him loose in the toy department and seeing what he gravitates toward. Unfortunately, it is usually something loud that eats batteries at the same rate I devour dark chocolate. Or it only comes in pink (make-believe irons, anyone?)

So I sent off a list yesterday to all concerned. And already I've thought of some things that he'd greet ecstatically come present-opening time. That I forgot.

Oh, well.

There's always next year.

The Great Turkey Conspiracy

Let me get this straight: I love my grandmother.

She just doesn't get things done on time. She almost missed my parents' wedding! In recent years, we have taken to telling her family functions start 2 hours earlier than everyone else. She still shows up an hour late. So when I discovered that she was doing the turkey for Thanksgiving dinner, I couldn't believe it. It would be scrumptious, but everything else would be stone-cold (and mashed potatoes & gravy are so much better warm) by the time we would be able to eat it.

I talked my mother out of making another Turkey, but suggested that some ham might be nice for variety (that way we won't be meatless). I further instigated my mother to start the Great Turkey Conspiracy. Today was recruitment day. The Uncle Bs would be happy to revolt. Uncle K may, too. Various cousins may yet join.

What, you may ask, is the aim of our Conspiracy? To have Thanksgiving dinner ON TIME, even if the Turkey isn't done yet! No waiting! Warm gravy! Hot rolls! Cold salads! Fluffy mashed potatoes that still melt butter for everyone! Join us! It is time to test our strength against the years of tyranny, oppression, and tradition!

Quite revolutionary, I know. But drastic times call for drastic measures.

I'm hoping I don't get into too much trouble for this.

It is easier to die

Firstly: don't worry! I'm not suicidal!

While reading Ben Okri's The Famished Road (kinda like Shakespeare doing African Magical Realism without iambic pentameter), I found: "It is easier to die than to love."

Having never died, I guess I'm not really an expert on comparative easiness of death versus Other, but I have loved, and I find it rather difficult some days. Death is such a final act. There's no reversing it (immediately, at least), and it's a one-time deal. You die, that is it. The End.

But love, love is found in unending acts of forgiveness and sacrifice and service. There is no end to it. You can die for love, of course, in an act of ultimate sacrifice (or stupidity), but living for love, I think is even harder. Loving live people is the hardest, because their imperfections are constantly colliding with our own imperfections - hence friction!

So go out and love someone today - it might be harder than dying, but you'll enjoy living more because of it!

A (revised) Hair Cut Above

It must be an indication of how bad your hair looks when your husband in desperation calls the salon to book your appointment with HIS favorite stylist.

In my defense, it is impossible to go with 2 children during the week, and weekends seem to always be taken up with things other than getting one's hair cut. But I will admit to looking a bit shaggy.

I find it ironic that usually hair stylists' hair is... well, scary. All the dying and frizzing and shortness and zany-ness that comes from having to experiment mostly upon oneself or fellow hairsytlists that take pity on you. More likely is that they agree to destroy each other's hair - a mutual destruction pact. I'm sure hair styling the only profession where destruction deals like this exist. However, the jury is still out on the correlation, if any, between zany hair and good hair stylist is positive or negative. My data point for this haircut: zany = good.

One random fact I learned: there really are tofu turkeys for vegetarians. I thought that was just a joke! Supposedly, they're good. I think I prefer my turkeys meated.

Anyways, after much trimming of hair (the usual 3 sweepings somehow unneccessary), I came home.

My husband declared the haircut "swooshy" (the highest accolade in his style vocabulary). Great praise indeed.

Skinned Knees

You would think, wouldn't you, that a mother of 2 children would be past the stage in life where she got skinned knees? Well, apparently, I'm not. Alas, Alas. What's even more frustrating is that it wasn't doing anything exciting or daring. I was walking. Ok, so I was walking balancing a baby on one hip (don't worry, she's undamaged) and a diaper bag on the other shoulder while holding my son's hand. Granted, that's how we travel everywhere nowadays.

So I ripped my pants, skinned my knees and had to impose on a friend for band-aids so I wouldn't bleed all over myself until I got home. I would like to state that I am extremely grateful that we usually don't have to use alcohol to sterilize wounds. Usually. Zowie!

A note to the skinned knee crowd: Bactine is lovely to spray on (ah! no pain!) but the skinned knee (for some perfectly rational chemical reason) starts producing water in large quantities. At least, Band-aids get drenched fairly quickly.

Anyways, I got a lot of sympathy for the day. The Spozo Maravillozo lamented my wounds, but he was almost as upset about the pants. They were his favorite pair. Oh, well. I guess that means I have to search out another pair of pants. I just went through that ordeal a couple of weeks ago and had rejoiced that I wouldn't need to do it again for a long while. I guess I counted my pants before they were patched.

My, What Big Teeth...

Halloween was moderately successful this year. We did another family themed year: Rosita Chiquita was Little Red Ridinghood, the Dude was the Woodsman, I was Grandma, and the Spozo Maravilloso was (supposed to be) the Big Bad Wolf. Unfortunately, our costumes were too subtle for the general populice to understand the inventiveness of it all. And noone really understood what in the heck we were doing unless we pointed out that the RC was Little RR. Sigh. Maybe if the SM had looked more wolfish it would've helped our cause.
Sigh.
At least we did a jack-o-lantern this year! I was at a loss to explain the SM's reluctance to carve pumpkins (I mean, who doesn't like scooping out pumkin guts, using knives to carve some gruesome (or not) image into recently living flesh, and putting a candle inside to watch the eerie orange flickerings?) UNTIL I discovered during the pumpkin slaughter that he had never done it before. I have to admit, it was dumbfounding. But who ended up lighting the candle and putting it outside and taking 16 pictures of it on all different settings to capture our Jack-o-Lantern just right? Yes, Who? Not Me.

Ravel's Bolero is Erotic!

So, the spozo maravilloso has discovered the blog. And commented that I haven't done anything in awhile. Hohum. He actually discovered it a long time ago, and decided to tell me in the dark of night so I wouldn't be able to see his smug smile even though I could still feel it smugging up the air.

Last night the SM gave me leave to go to a concert with a friend. Several other friends are in said concert, so I felt it expedient that I attend. It was a free concert. And I don't want to hurt my (very musically talented) friends' feelings, but you know the saying "you get what you paid for"? Well, I recieved payment in full. Blame it on the brass section. Pretty much everyone else did "good," but the brass just sounded sour and paltry. Having a world-class violinist as your soloist makes the contrast even starker.

The one piece of the evening that I had been particularly looking forward to was Ravel's Bolero. Now, I don't know how anyone can listen to this and not feel the eroticism throbbing away, but one of said very musically talented friends expressed surprise when I pointed this out. Now she is fully converted to the idea. Unfortunately, last night's performance was devoid of the passion I expect the Bolero to be played with. Upon recalling that this was a church-organized symphony, I realize that eroticism is probably not what they were aiming for.

If you haven't listened to Bolero and have no idea what I'm talking about, then go get a copy. ....And listen to it with someone you wouldn't mind snogging with.

A note on snogging: If you don't know what this is, I pity you.

Jesus is Satan's Brother

So, reading on Evangelicals for Mitt, I happened across a post that connected to this site. Here, I read about some queasiness regarding a belief that Jesus could be Satan's brother. I guess it doesn't bother me much because I think that each is an extreme example of our potential to become. We can choose to become as much as possible like Jesus, or we can choose to become like Satan.

We all have that amazing potential to become as influential as these two in the lives of the people around us. Are some people afraid of that potential? Or they just don't think that two diametrically opposed people could possibly be made from the same "stuff"? I think we've all known families where the kids - children of the same two parents - are as unlike each other as night and day. So, why not another pair of brothers? One has made ALL His choices in line with His Father's will, and the other has chosen to think that he knows a better way (basically letting his pride guide him).

Or is it that we are afraid of the power that we have in Choosing? That we, insignificant mortals, can make choices that can elevate us to the divine or thrust us down to hell. I guess that could be pretty scary to people who don't want to believe they can have consequences for their actions - or resposibility for making good choices.

Personally, I'm glad to have the choices, and I know which brother I'd like to emulate.