Sugar High

Christmas Eve Jammies...

And here are some quick pictures from Christmas day.

We opened way too many gifts and ate way too much food.

My children encrusted themselves with chocolate. It was great!


(P.S. You may notice the much nicer quality of the last three pictures as opposed to the first. Ben sneakily bought us a new Nikon!)

Ho Ho Ho. Does Anyone Have a Sharp Object On Which I Could Throw Myself?

I need a servant. Someone to go shopping for me and clean my house and give me pedicures. Yes. That is what I need.

I do not need one more ounce of stress. If one more family member hacks up a lung in my general direction, I'm jumping off a cliff. If one more "cheery" holiday shopper cuts out in front of me in their car or with their shopping cart, my head will explode. And if I think of one more thing to add to my gargantuan list, I will quickly forget it and pretend I never remembered in the first place. Ahh, denial. Works every time.

As it is, I have a ton of stuff left to do. And the really sad part of it all is that I don't really make Christmas that huge. I can't imagine what I'd be going through if I did all of those extra nifty things that earn you lots of points for your mommy badge. Like sleigh rides and knitting everyone matching Christmas sweaters with my toes while I write an enthralling Christmas letter to send out with our hand-crafted Christmas cards.

Nope. Unfortunately, even with the minimalist traditions that we do have, I am still overwhelmed.My kids wouldn't notice if we had Christmas a couple of days late, would they?

C'mon. Lie to me.

This Just In

Breaking News: Apparently Ben is not completely devoid of all Christmas cheer. He just watched The Simpson's Christmas Special and laughed. Repeatedly.

4 Months Old

To my sweet baby daughterYou are 4-months-old today. I can't believe it! You are growing up so very quickly. You roll over and eat your toes and play with toys. You're even starting to do that scooty combat crawl. You laugh, but only for me. You smile and coo and chew in your fingers. You love it when your daddy sings to you. You love to play peek-a-boo with your brother and sister.And today you have a bad cold. You've been sick since Thursday night. I've held you almost constantly since then. Your feverish little head is resting on my shoulder right now. You seem to feel better when you're next to me. And that's ok with me. I hope that you always feel that way, because I'll always be ready to hold you whenever you are sick or sad.I love you forever, my sweet baby girl.

It's All About Perception

The other night, I took my children to watch a movie. It wasn't at a normal theatre, but at the Visitor's Center at the LDS Temple near where I live. The movie is called The Testaments. It depicts what was happening in the Americas at the time of The Savior's crucifixion.

The next day, Ben asked my son what the movie was about. My son went on and on about what had happened in the movie and gave a pretty impressive account of the whole thing. Then Ben asked my 2-year-old daughter what she thought the movie had been about. "Hmmmm" she said. "Batman and Robin....and Scooby Doo!"

Well alrighty then.

Why I Love This Time Of Year

I'm sure that soon many blogs will have, if they don't already, posts about the true meaning of Christmas. Or posts of frantic shopping expeditions or much loved traditions. Or even posts about how much their authors hate this time of year. Even careful avoidance of the subject of Christmas will be like and elephant in the room, leaving readers to wonder about the author's stance on the whole holiday. The entire spectrum will, undoubtedly, be covered.

My first instinct is to shy away from this as I feel inadequacy well up inside of me. How can I ever put into words what I feel in my heart? I have never been accused of writing eloquently. So instead of trying to be witty and charming, I will simply write what I know to be true.

Since having children, I feel that I can understand my Heavenly Father's love for me much more clearly. There is nothing that I wouldn't do for my children. All I want is for them to be happy. I would give my life for them. And in a way, I do. Everyday. Almost all of my time is spent caring for them, helping them to grow and be happy. And the rest of my time is spent in worrying how they're growing and if they are happy. If I feel this way about my children, I can better understand how my Father in Heaven feels about me. When my children argue or fight, I can better understand how my Father in Heaven feels when two, who think they are strangers, wrong one another. And my heart breaks a little. When I feel my heart swell with pride when one of my children accomplishes a new task, when they reach a new goal all their own, I better understand how much my Father in Heaven wants me to be all that I can. To be the happiest that I possibly can be. And I can better understand just how much He is willing to do to make my happiness and growth a possibility. So it's not hard for me to understand why My Father in Heaven would send His Son. And while I can't even begin to fathom what it would be like to let one of my children serve as a sacrifice so that all may be saved, I do understand the lengths that I would be willing to go to so that all of my children might have all of the happiness that I could possibly give to them.I don't doubt His existence.

I don't doubt His love for me. I do doubt myself, and my ability to do my part. That is why I love this time of year. It renews my resolve to dig a little deeper. To work a little harder. To be a little more. And it helps me to remember that there is One who is doing all that He can to help me do my part. Who was willing to give all, so that I might have all

Joseph Steps In

Last night was one of many family Christmas parties. For most of my life, this party has always included a live nativity and the reading of the Christmas story from the Bible. My older daughter was asked to be Mary.

She was very happy, because this meant that she'd get the chance to hold my baby, who was a shoe-in for the role of Baby Jesus. Well, at the last minute, my normally calm and mellow baby decided to save herself from her sister's "helping" by crying hysterically when anyone who wasn't me held her. So, in a desperate the-show-must-go-on attempt, my aunt wrapped a package of Brawney napkins in the blanket and tried to pass it off as the Baby Jesus. My 2-year-old was having NONE of that. It's a good thing that my cousin's 3-year-old, who was playing Joseph, stepped in and saved the day.

Even if she herself was above holding this lousy excuse for a Baby Jesus, she was most surely not above telling others how they should do it.She made sure that he knew that it was very important to keep the baby covered! and, no no! hold him like this! she said with authority.

My baby is no dummy. She knew exactly what she was saving herself from.
And in other Nativity related events:
My son, when asked if he wanted to be a shepherd, said: "Sure. Only, I'm not sure what shepherds do, really. And why do shepherds wear pillow cases on their heads? What's up with that?" I don't know son, I just don't know.

I Am Sad

Glenn Beck is performing reasonably near to where I live, this Tuesday. I think he's hilarious. I agree with a lot of what he says. I really wish that I could go. That is all.

10 Things I Took For Granted Before I Had Children

10. Sleeping in. And don't think that giving your children breakfast and turning on educational TV will buy you more quality sleeping time. It won't. I tried.

9. How little laundry I really create.

8. Eating a whole candy bar. All by myself.

7. Showering with no interruptions. The instant I head in the direction of the bathroom, I'm swarmed. My attention suddenly becomes absolutely necessary to everyone under 4'5". If only I could use my powers for good.

6. Never having anyone else's snot anywhere on me. Like, for example, in my hair.

5. Always knowing where the TV remote is.

4. Smelling good. I currently (and constantly) smell like baby barf. Aren't you jealous?

3. Going to a non-kid movie in the movie theatre.

2. How easy my life really was. What was I complaining about all the time?

1. How much I was missing without my sweet babies.

Silly faces only a mother could love:


(If my baby looks slightly troubled in that picture, it's because her older sister is sitting beside me waiting to "help" her. And my 2-year-old's "help" can be enough to make a grown man cry.)

The Angry Toothfairy

My two-year-old is a force to be reckoned with. The other day, my son brought me this:

He said that it was a letter to "The Angry Toothfairy". This is exactly what he said as he read his letter to me."Dear Angry Toothfairy,Please stop coming to little children's houses and leaving mud underneath their pillows and taking their teeths anyway. Why oh why would you do this? It is mean. It makes them cry. When I loose a tooth I do not want mud. I want money. If you do this to me unfortunately I will have to tell my sister. She is mean. She will get my tooth back for me so that the REAL toothfairy will bring me some money for it. My sister will scratch your face like she scratches mine. It would be a better choice for you to just leave my tooth alone."

Watch out, Angry Toothfairy.

Me

I feel like such a dork! I didn't even realize that this had posted here! I was trying all day yesterday to get some software downloaded so that I could host this pic online and put it in the "All About Me" section of my blog. My computer kept blocking the download, or so I thought.

The title says "Our Happy Family", not "Our Perfect Family", Folks.

Lest you think that I was being smug when I chose the URL for my blog, I will put your mind at rest right now. While we are, for the most part, a happy family, we have our days. Like everyone does, I suppose. If you had been a fly on our wall last week, you would've witnessed Ben and I having our Annual Christmas Argument. (Yes, I've titled it.)

My husband can be a grouchy seventy-something trapped in a twenty-somethings body when it comes to holiday functions. Every year since we've moved back to the area where we grew up, this has been a fight. Ok, who am I kidding. It's always been a fight. But when we lived too far away to go, Ben was off the hook. He doesn't like to go to family parties, you see. I'm not exactly sure why, either. And then, to add insult to injury, he says agrivating things to me in regards to the parties, just because he can. For instance: Both of my parents' sides of the family have a Christmas party. So rather than saying "no I won't go" or (my personal favorite) "yes I will go and I will have fun! And I'll even be my wonderfully jovial self that everyone knows and loves just because I love you soverymuch!" Ben says, "I'll go to one party. I'll flip a coin to decide, even! You know, because I'm all about being fair." So it's come down to he's not going, and I am going... alone. And nothin' says Christmas like being alone. It makes me so completely sad. It's so hard for me to undersand why he equates a family party with being stabbed with hot pokers. There will be yummy food, and family that may ACTUALLY WANT TO TALK TO HIM, and ohmygosh, GAMES. Not those! And WHAT IF PEOPLE SING SONGS??? What will he do then? There will be presents (for him, even!) and general holiday cheer. I hate that part the most, myself. When people are all hollidayish and cheery.

I wish with all of my heart that he would just go! So I'm not looking forward to the 12th and the 21st, when I get to go to parties that I would normally be looking forward to, but instead get to go as a lonely holiday widow who's husband just couldn't stomach going for her. Merry Christmas to me.Yeah, yeah, cry me a river.

It's Murphy's Law, Or Karma, Or Something...

Why oh why do I say things like: "Oh, yes, she is doing so well with potty learning! Hardly ever has an accident. Decided to start using the potty herself, even! Isn't she amazing? Aren't I the perfect mommy?" (O.K., so I didn't say the last one out loud, but c'mon, who wouldn't feel the eensiest bit of parental pride if their two-year-old decided, all by her own little self , that it was time to learn to use the potty?) Well apparently she sensed the deep pride I was beginning to have in myself and decided that I needed to be taken down a peg or two. Or maybe three. She peed her pants three times today. THREE! On purpose! I'm almost positive that the first two times she did it because she loves to take showers and knows that into the shower she'll go if she has an "accident". (That originally started out sort of as a punishment. She really didn't like showers that much. She now loves them. Drat. Foiled again.) Which brings me to the third "accident". She was angry at me for bringing her in from the car. She wanted to stay there and sleep. And you know, I'm so terribly rude and made her come in, because I didn't want her sleeping out in her car seat in zero degree weather, in the dark. I'm just mean like that. So she laid on the floor in the entry way and peed her pants. On purpose. If this is how she is at two, I refuse to ponder what her teenage years might be like. I sure hope she's over the whole retaliatory peeing thing by then.

And while we're on the subject of saying things that come back to bite you later, what sane mother ever dares utter the words: "Oh yes, she is a great sleeper. Sleeps all night long. And takes several looooong naps during the day." I mean, C'mon. I have three kids. I know better. Or I should, anyway. No naps for my baby today, unless I was holding her. Which I can deal with, except for the fact that she would prefer that I not move during said naps. At all. Thankyouverymuch. And bedtime? Why mother, what is this thing you speak of? Why oh why would I want to sleep, when I could just stare at you and smile and squeal and chew on my chubby fingers and be oh so very cute? Bedtime schmedtime.

My son got to experience a little Karma of his own today as well. We (the kids and I) were walking into the fabric store. The parking lot was pure ice. I told him, at least 5 times, to walk carefully and to hold my hand. "I know, I know!" he said. He then started to go on and on and on about how he couldn't possibly slip because he was wearing his very special GI Joe boots that his grandparents gave to him. Did I say he was going on and on? Yep, you guessed it. No sooner had he said "Mommy, if you had boots like mine, you wouldn't be so worried about fall---" THUMP. His sister thought that her brother's pain was absolutely hilarious and started laughing and promptly fell right over too. Then she got mad and tried to hit him, because she had fallen, which was of course all his fault and she's just oh so loving like that. And so she fell over again. Which made my son burst out laughing so he fell again. And then I heard myself saying the words my own mother would be proud to hear me say: "Well, if you would've just listened to me, none of this would've happened."

Random pictures for your viewing pleasure. And yes, I know my camera sucks.

This picture of my sweet baby is especially for my nephew who requested a picture of her smiling. So here you go. And since you didn't say that you wanted to see her whole head, I didn't bother taking a picture of it. No, seriously though. She's one wiggly girl, so this is the best one I was able to get. I hope that you like it.

This is a picture of my beautiful older daughter. It's amazing that I got her to hold still long enough for the camera to snap her picture.

This is a picture of the very best son a mother could ever have. Except for when he sneaks up on me and gives me wet willies and then laughs hysterically when I scream and jump in surprise.
That I could live without.

This is a good demonstration picture of how I make my children dress like Ralphie's kid brother from the movie A Christmas Story.All of this snow happened in one day. Less than 24 hours before, the ground was completely clear. Gotta love the Rocky Mountains!

We decorated our Christmas tree last night. (And yes, my children are wearing aprons. My son said "Mom, we must wear these aprons or it will be impossible to decorate our tree!") Rofl.This is a picture of what my 2-year-old described as "Me helpied you mommie! Me helpied you make the tissmus tee look so pitty!" Ah, yes. 7 mini candy canes hung in a row on my wooden beads.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Pillow Talk of the Insanely Brilliant

This is the conversation that Ben and I had at 1 am this morning:Ben:"Do I know all of the loosing vice presidential canidates for all of the presidential elections?"Me:"Do you know what?"Ben:"I think I do, let's see..."

This is the point in the conversation that my eyes glazed over and I wished I was in a coma.

He did end up listing them... ALL. Do you know how long it takes to do that? It was a conversation too painful to reiterate here. (That's code for "there's no way in the world I could ever remember all of their names in order to type them out for your reading pleasure" ) He then proceeded to quiz me on all of the past presidents. I must say that I did pretty well, considering that by then it was nearly 2 am, and I'm not really known as a presidential history buff.

It's times like these that show exactly why my husband has a place to be a contestant on Jeopardy. (Not joking, he really does.) Only future Jeopardy contestants take time at 1 in the morning to "jog their memories" on "interesting" things like this. LOL

3 Months Old

She's 3 months old already. Where does the time go? Our sweet baby girl is such a joy. I don't know how we ever lived without her.

Ginger Bread Houses

Ginger Bread House Fun

The calm before the storm of sprinkles...

I gave them the frosting and candies and set them loose. My momentary lapse of sanity proved to be lots of fun. I assure you that I will bring this fun day up, ad nauseam, during their teenage years when they complain about what a terrible mother I am. And fortunately for me, I have the pictures and the blog entry to prove it, Mwahahahaaahaa!

I snapped this picture in the point 2 seconds that she wasn't "just tasting" her "dinjerbed house".

He told me at least 50 times today that he had "So, so, so, SO, SO much FUN!!"
And then he asked me if we could do it again tomorrow, because, as he said: "My sister is gonna eat her whole ginger bread house, and then there's no way mine's gonna be safe!"
And the boy knows what he's talkin' about. I'm sure that a future post will be entitled: "The Ginger Bread Massacre of '05".

Don't lie to me, I know you're on the edge of your seat.

Picky Eaters and the Not-So-Picky Ones

My 4 year old son is a picky eater. The list of things that he won't eat is too long to mention. His reasons for not eating most of the things that he doesn't like are really quite funny. Like last night, for example. I bought a pizza for dinner. He'll only eat pizza from one place, and only one kind of pizza from that one place. So I of course, being the good mother that I am, buy that exact kind of pizza. He picked it up and started to take his first bite, but quickly returned the pizza to his plate. "Why didn't you take a bite of your pizza?" I ask. "Because, mom, my pizza sounds funny!" He replies. "Your pizza sounds funny?" I say. "Yeah, and there's no way I'm eating pizza that sounds like that."

Good Grief.

My 2 year old daughter, on the other hand, will eat almost anything. Like plant dirt, for example. She's also been known to open the fridge just to get out a bottle of my husband's hot sauce so that she can drink it straight from the bottle. And today she made a tortilla chip and fruit loop sandwich for herself. With remarkable speed, I might add. I had just come back into the kitchen from changing the baby, and there she was, munching away on a piece of bread that she had put tortilla chips and fruit loops in the middle of before she folded it over and smashed it all together. She ate the whole thing, and then asked for another one.

Yummy.

I'll Give It A Try Because He Won't Think that Batman is Cool For Forever

For me, blogging is a really fun way to record all of the things that will soon be just the memories of my children's all too fleeting childhoods. A way that won't bore me out of my mind and cause me to contemplate beating my head against the wall repeatedly. No scrapbooks for my kids. I'm just not that nifty. So they shall have a blog to remember their childhoods by instead. That's not too terrible, is it?

We have a 4 year old son. He is quite the boy. He wanted to be Batman for Halloween. His grandmother was kind enough to sew his costume for him, and to his exacting standards nonetheless. When it arrived in the mail, he tore open the box and put it on instantly. He was running around the house, "being Batman", (read: "rescuing" his 2 year old sister and getting hit repeatedly by said 2-year-old who had no desire whatsoever to be rescued, thankyouverymuch) and I called him by his name and asked him to come into the kitchen. Moments later when he arrived, breathless, I said: "Wow! Good for you for coming right away when I called!" He replied: "Moooooommmm!!! You can't forget that now my name is Bruce Wayne! And no matter what, you must not reveal my true identity! I am Batman. And with that, he returned to doling out his vigilante justice.

Well alrighty then.