One of My Favorite Things

This morning both kids were moaning and wailing and whining because they couldn't shake some major grumps. When I decided I didn't want to listen to them anymore, I told them they could read some books on my bed.

You'd think I just promised them candy.

This face. . .

. . . and this face

Soon turned into

these faces. . .

and these faces. . .

. . . and pretty soon, all was peaceful and quiet.

Then I put Ashley down for a nap, after which Everett announced that he was going to bed too, and laid himself right down on his bed with his stuffed doggies and dinosaur pillow.

Fine by me. No way was I going to argue with that logic.

Now the house is quiet and the kids are sleeping, and I had time to have lunch by myself without sad, starving, malnourished little faces pleading for bites.

A Little Bit About Joel

I think most of us know that Joel really loves sports. He loves watching sports, he loves playing sports, and he loves comparing everything to sports (a common phrase: Joel saying "it's okay; all that matters is that I can take him on the court.").

Our downstairs neighbor is a tennis expert who often likes to invite Joel to play. Joel would drop almost anything for the opportunity to have another good tennis match, and it always makes me happy to see him so excited to play.

Last Friday, Joel was planning on playing tennis with this neighbor. After he started throwing up at 2 am due to the same bad stomach bug the rest of us fought earlier in the week, I assumed his tennis match was a no-go. I checked on Joel at around 9:30 am, hoping he might feel up to some gatorade and crackers. All I got in response was a miserable grunt and half-opened eyes.

A few minutes later, I got a phone call from the tennis-playing neighbor. I was in the middle of expressing my regret that Joel had a stomach bug and wouldn't be up to a game today, when I hear a "Elise! Elise Elise Elise Elise!" reverberating off my bedroom walls. Joel came thundering out of the room with the energy of four kindergarteners; I laughed and told our neighbor that he'd better just speak with Joel. I barely had time to extend the phone to Joel before he swiped it out of my hand.

"Hello?" Joel's voice, having sounded earlier like it was dead and gone, must have made a miraculous recovery in the last fifteen seconds.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. No, it's one of those things that doesn't last very long. If you give me an hour, I'll be ready to play. 11? Sounds good. No, I'll be ready. Yes, I can do it. See you then."

Joel got off the phone, jumped in the air, and grinned wildly at me. I rolled my eyes. I was just glad I knew the key to abolishing all signs of illness from my husband--give him an opportunity to play a good game.

However, Joel's love for tennis or sports in general is no match for his love for basketball. When a favored team wins a big game, Joel spends the rest of the evening talking about how "we" did it, as though he scored the game-winning shot himself. Around November of every year, I start hearing about how March Madness is coming up. Joe Lunardi begins to absorb a larger part of his daily espn reading. Joel also begins compulsively checking game stats; when I ask him why a particular game is so important, he will quickly outline for me that if such-and-such a team wins this game, they'll have to play so-and-so, and if they do well, then they will go somewhere and play a certain team Joel likes. "That's gonna be a good game," he'll comment, his eyes momentarily glazing over with dreamy anticipation.

Last night Joel and I were looking at BYU's current basketball season. They're doing well. Some people hope they'll be a top three seed; as it stands now, they're already a three. For reasons I've forgotten, there is a chance BYU will play in some final games in Salt Lake City (if they make it to the final four, it will be in Indianapolis).

Being across the country when and if these games are held, when until recently Joel has always lived in Utah, will be torturous for him.

I saw the wheels spinning fruitlessly in his head as he considered his options for making it to the Beehive State. It's a two-day drive, one I wouldn't let him make solo. Plane tickets will most likely be prohibitively expensive once the games are announced.

Joel couldn't stop grinning. "I'll find a way," he said. I believe he would. I almost believe he would hitchhike to Utah if I wasn't here to stop him.

"This is going to be the best!" Joel commented excitedly. His grin was spreading; I suspected his face might actually get stuck that way.

Then I felt a little impish. "Yeah. . ." I agreed, "Almost as nice as you having another son."

The baby is due March 21st, just before the height of March Madness. Timing could be insurmountably bad.

Joel looked a little worried. "Oh yeah. That." He considered everything for a moment, turning the details over in his mind as though he was trying to find another side to a two-dimensional index card. Suddenly his face brightened. "Wait! Your mom and sister will be out here for the baby. I don't need to be here!"

I laughed and poked him in the ribs.

I know he wouldn't leave me to have the baby without him, and I know he wouldn't leave me a few days after having the baby (unless, perhaps, I did something to make it happen), but it sure would be a terrible strain for him to watch a BYU game taking place in Salt Lake City and know he could have been there in person.

But I am happy that Joel loves something this much. It makes me glad to see him get so excited, even if I could never match his enthusiasm. Maybe his energetic interest in sports will manifest itself in our children. If so, they'll always have plenty to do outside and I'll be glad they won't be messing up my house.

Win-win, I always say. I think having my husband and kids excited about the same thing will be a nice plus to their likelihood of inheriting Joel's very dominant competitive genes.

The Price I Pay

The other night when Joel was gone, I had to get my dirty, sticky kids in bed and clean up the dinner dishes. I decided to multi-task (as I always do), since the bathroom is right off the kitchen and I can easily hear anything that goes on in there.

But, this kind of efficiency comes with a price. If I am not physically in the bathroom, the kids have too much fun splashing and dumping cups of water various places until the floor in front of the tub is completely covered with a large puddle. I could come in every two seconds and discipline, but I'd rather get the kitchen done in one fell swoop.

Here are the little monsters. I am just glad they have fun together. I'd rather wipe up a puddle of bathwater than sit and supervise when I could be getting something else done.

The puddle you see here looks smaller than it is. In reality, the entire underside of the bathmat (and a good portion of the surrounding floor) is a sopping mess.

But getting the dishes done quickly is, without a doubt, worth every bit of the minute it takes to clean all this water up.

Four Years Young (and too sentimental for those of you who are hoping for a post making fun of Joel)

(my favorite wedding picture, which we have yet to enlarge past 4 x 6 inches, but which is currently hanging on our wall)

Joel and I celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary last week on the 30th (how we got here--four years married with 2.8 children--boggles my mind, but I am glad this is our place right now). Someday we will be celebrating our fortieth wedding anniversary, and when we look back on this time in our lives, we'll think: "How naive we were! How little we knew about each other! How did we get to forty years all of a sudden?"

Well. I know I'll be thinking that. I think we've established that Joel's sentimentality level is at an approximate negative 3.

My parents gifted us Christmas morning with some date money, which is probably one of the all-time best gifts you can give some graduate students. I debated a little--a lot--about how to use it. (Joel? He doesn't debate. He just does. Yes, I need that in my life.) Do we use it at a later time? After the baby comes? Before? Do we blow it all on our anniversary?

We (I) finally decided. A fancy dinner at an "affordable fine dining" restaurant, because let's not kid ourselves here, we're still students. When is the next time we'll be able to do this? I reasoned. After a large plate of chorizo-ed mussels, a couple of jokes about aphrodisiacs, and two fantastic entrees, Joel declared the meal to be exceptional.

This is big, people. Joel doesn't like spending lots of money on food. It isn't worth it to him and he cannot enjoy a meal when it is expensive. So forget the mussels; his raving enthusiasm was all the aphrodisiac I needed.

Last week I reviewed the events of our anniversary in my mind. I recalled taking the time to do my hair in a special way, taking extra care with my make-up, and trying to make my pregnant belly look littler and cuter and my legs longer than they actually are. I suddenly realized upon review that one key element of the night was missing, and I quickly informed Joel.

"Hey Honey," I said with a tone of significance, "You know what I just realized about our anniversary?"

Joel, who actually has a good sense of intuition, must have known that was I was about to say was not positive. "What?" he said somewhat lightly, but unsuccessfully disguising the awkward heaviness to his response.

"Well, it's not a big deal. I mean, I didn't even think about it until today--"

"Just say it!" Joel urged.

"You did have fun, didn't you?"

"Of course I did! I always have fun with you. I wouldn't have wanted to do anything else."

I accepted his answer--I already knew that was how he felt; I didn't need to hear it, but I was just beating around the bush. Joel knew this very well and prodded me further:

"Would you just say it?"

I took a breath. "Well, do you realize that during the whole night, you never once told me I looked nice?"

I almost heard an audible gulp coming from his throat. He sighed. "Yes. I thought about that a few days ago, and I feel really bad about it." His response hung in the air, laden with remorse.

I smiled and kissed him. He told me I had looked great. But I knew he thought that--the man had given me his undivided attention throughout our date. This is, perhaps, why I hadn't considered his verbal miss before last week, and why I felt less like an expectant mother and more like arm candy that night than I expected to.

Joel looked relieved with my leisurely review of his so-called "blunder." I was just glad he had been the one I could be out with.

I feel exceptionally blessed in my marriage with Joel. It has been easy, so far. We will have a lot of bumps in the road, I know, but I'm glad we still like each other. We have our days, sure. Sometimes we'll go an entire day without saying very many words to each other, either because we're absorbed in our respective activities or because we are taking turns being irritated with one another. Sometimes the things that bother us about each other seem more glaring and important. Then there are the many moments when Joel will look at me with unabashed fondness and tell me he loves me deeply. Sometimes we'll lay awake for an extra hour, or two, talking and laughing and examining the world as we see it. Joel and I have complimentary personalities, and our relationship reflects that.

He teases me, I banter with him, we are free with our kind words and restrictive with our hurtful ones; this forms the base of our friendship and attraction.

I wouldn't have it any other way (and the best thing is, I haven't had to.)

Official Un-official Poll

The kids and I had a WIC check-up appointment this morning. I never look forward to these because the office is always very slow, even though we usually try to get the very first appointment, and then they always tell me that my kids are overweight and I need to do such-and-such (which we're usually already doing, but that is a whole other post).

Today, though, the nutritionist told me something different. She asked how much milk Everett drinks every day, and I told her I limit him to two cups--which he doesn't always drink--of milk. If he drinks more than that, he doesn't eat at mealtimes, plus he doesn't need more than that for his age. The kids drink several cups of water during the day, and I only let them drink water with dinner. If I don't, they drink their entire glass first and don't have room left to get enough nutrition from the actual food.

She told me that this is actually the opposite of what is recommended now--I should only be giving the kids water between meals and only giving them milk or juice with their meal. It is supposed to aid digestion.

I can see her point. However, I also want my kids to eat their veggies, and that only happens if they don't fill up with drinks first. She asked me if I understood, and I said yes. It is a good thing she didn't ask me if I am going to implement this strategy, because I would have wanted to lie. I don't mind if their snack consists of a glass of milk and an orange. I do mind if they don't eat their dinner (lunch and breakfast--not so much of an issue, as they usually are fine having other drinks then). So that is where I stand.

Seeing as all kids are different, I was curious: Do any of you have preferences about what your kids drink during meal times? Have you noticed a difference in eating habits depending on what they're drinking? How do you like to do it?

Why I Like Candid Pictures the Best

Last week, Everett and Ashley made a train out of little plastic chairs and pillows at their Johnson Grandparents' house (add a wii remote holder and Everett was all set as the engineer). It was 100 percent their idea, and it was fun to see them enjoying themselves.

I tried to get them to pose for a nice picture, but all I got were random non-poses. But, this result is exactly why I always end up liking those better. They look so wacky!

. . .Because it Thrills Joel to Pieces When I Post Pictures Like This

We are still at Joel's parents' house, and the kids are having a great time in their playroom. I found a box with some dress-up jewelry and got it out, thinking that Ashley might like to dazzle herself up.

She didn't.

Everett, however, was thrilled. "Rings, Mommy!" He exclaimed. I explained the difference between bracelets and necklaces, and Everett claimed all of them except for the flowery lei, which he tossed aside in disgust. Jewels? Ok. Flowers? A bit too much for this three-year-old.

Fortunately I don't subscribe to any notions that letting Everett wear anything girly will make him permanently feminine. Joel, however, might need some convincing :).

Your Semi-annual, Un-requested Ashley Update

**disclaimer: you are under no obligation to read this post**

Ashley turned 18 months old last month!

(Getting ready to jump! with her brother. Serious face is necessary to proper form.)

I've said it many times before, but Ashley has a delightful and sweet personality. This makes me happy for many reasons, not the least of which is that it makes her easier to parent. I'm all for the easy way out, see.

She has been very easy to put to bed. Last night I held her before bed and offered to sing her a song. . .but she just looked at me and reached for her bed. I made her stay with me for one anyway.

She was blessed during her baby blessing with a creative mind. I think we're already seeing evidence of this; she is very good at spacial reasoning and has always had a lot of fine motor coordination. She will sit and color or do a craft for a long time.

One thing has made me a little worried, though, and that has been her speech development. While Everett went into preschool for his speech, I couldn't fight the nagging worry that Ashley was not on track, either. Not only would she not say many words ("mama", "papa", and "up" were about it), she wouldn't even babble while she played. I thought about getting her evaluated, but I gave myself until after Christmas to see if anything happened. In the meantime, I worried and tried to encourage speech without forcing anything to happen.

But, BUT, she has finally decided to talk. I don't think I realized how thrilled I would be when this happened. At 18 months old, she certainly has a lot of time to get her words down. She was certainly still in the "normal" range. But I didn't realize how worried I had been until I heard her start to say more words and felt like a weight had been removed. (I was less worried at this age with Everett, but now that I know what his problem was/is, I was more sensitive (a little too sensitive) to Ashley's progress.)

I realize now that she is just a quiet child. Even when she plays now, she doesn't make much noise, and many people have commented to that effect. It will be interesting to see how she is as she get older--she doesn't seem to be shy and has no problem being left with strangers. She is just a quiet, contemplative toddler (until Everett takes her favorite toy!).

If you will indulge me, I'd like to list a few of the words she says now. I hear a new one every day, so this is by no means a complete list--I just would like to write some of them down somewhere.

Jump, hop, up, lap, jacket, milk, juice, drink, water, cup, cookie, grape, banana, pickle, cold, hot, stairs, car, truck, choo-choo, bubble, tooth brush, more, please, thank-you, dinosaur and many animals and their sounds.

Thank you. It gives me a little thrill each time I hear her use a new word.

And, to make this post even longer, here are some of the things she's learned in the last few months:

7 months ago: walking!

6 months ago: to demonstrate dexterity by taking a tiny sticker off the pad and sticking it to a piece of paper.

5 months ago: coloring with crayons is fun (and keeps her occupied for a long time); running is also fun, especially after taking one of Everett's toys, and throwing and kicking balls are a nice pastime.

4 months ago: to quickly determine which megablock fits best where, and to be able to create impressively balanced structures; pretend play becomes more appealing, especially when she can be an animal.

3 months ago: to drink from an open cup (not by my choice) and to use a fork, bowl, and spoon. Also, to "jump" without lifting her feet from the ground.

2 months ago: that she likes to throw things away, especially diapers, and is remarkably adept at determining what qualifies as garbage; to do her "make-up" next to me with an extra make-up brush and compact as I get ready for the day.

1 month ago: That she likes to talk! Also, that high heels make the best clip-clopping sound on hard floors.

On Sunday, Ashley will go to nursery for the first time by herself. I know we won't have any problems and that she will really enjoy it, so I have no apprehension. Joel is excited because this means he can actually sit through all three hours of church without having to worry about a toddler. Maybe this is just as much a milestone for him as it is for Ashley :).

Baby Namer

This post is not endorsed by Joel:

Everett is anxiously awaiting the arrival of our new little boy. He talks about him constantly and is always informing me of the baby's status. He likes to talk about the little diapers the baby will wear, the bouncer the baby will sleep in, and how the baby will drink milk.

Lately, he has been asking me if he can hold the baby. Tonight he even made room for the baby in his bed.

"William sleep with me?" he asked hopefully.

I explained to him that the baby is still inside my stomach and can't come out until March, when the doctor will help. "But," I said, "When William comes out of my stomach, I am sure he will love to lay on your tummy and listen to your heart beat."

"Yeah, Mommy, yeah," Everett said, smiling to himself. "William sleep right there," pointing to a spot on his bed in between his brown teddy bear and his left side. Everett laid back down contentedly.


Two months is a long time for a three-year-old to wait. While we are mostly ready for the baby, I hope his arrival does not happen before he is done developing. I do not anticipate any problems, but the worry side of me does tend to want to make the mental preparations for a catastrophe.

And, we have settled on a name. We will name the baby William Warren Johnson, after my Grandfather Warren Burton and my great-grandfather William Chugg. William is a nice, normal name and it is one Joel has finally come around to; I enlisted Everett's help in calling the baby William and it did the trick quite nicely.

I realize there are a few nicknames out there I do not like (Bill and Willy, for two) but I also realize that I have little to no control over what other people call my children. I like William, and I like Will, and those are the names we will use. If anyone else wants to use another nickname, that is their perogative, and it will not bother me at all.

With that, I'm finally putting up a baby widget, since I can never keep track of how far along I am.

Happy 2010!

I still remember thinking in the year 2000 that it would be strange to start the 2010s. Here we are. I've experienced so many new things in the past decade that I won't bother listing them, but it has been a good ten years. I hope the rest of my life will be comparable in some degree.

I have been thinking a lot about goal-setting during the last month or so. Every year around Christmastime, I find myself drawn to a little introspection. I try to remember that Christ is the reason for all my holiday goings-on, and I try to make myself a little better as a gift to Him. This year, I had a clear idea of what I want to work on over the next year (and for the rest of my life, of course).

There are an endless amount of things I need to improve on, but I know if I try to do more than one thing at a time I won't make any progress.

My goal this year is to speak with kindness. I do not like the feeling I get when I am curt or insensitive to my children. I don't like yelling. I feel bad about myself and I feel bad for my children after I have yelled, and this is not something I want to live with.

I had to ask myself: What is the worse offense? For my children or my husband to do something stupid, mindless, disobedient, or annoying, or for me to reply to the offense unkindly and brashly? Time and time again, I know I would have the greatest fault.

I have noticed a huge difference in the atmosphere of my home on the days I am more successful with my goal. I used to think that if I yelled at Everett it didn't affect him in a negative way. I would also see no change in behavior and no more eagerness to do the right thing. I realize from my own experience that after I am yelled at, the person who yelled at me may have gotten over his or her anger quickly, but I carry the hurt around with me all day long and throughout the week (obviously my next goal should be on forgiveness!). I never want to see fear (fear of me) in my children's eyes when I am dealing with them, and I never want to cause them to carry around that kind of hurt unnecessarily. I can't think of many day-to-day things that are more un-Christ like than hurting someone's spirit or treating them with disrespect.

When I am able to hold myself together and discipline with kindness instead of irritation or curtness in my voice, Everett responds more obediently. He is much less agitated and he listens to what I have to say more often. I think this is because then the discipline becomes more about what he might have done wrong rather than "mom is so mad." I think he can also feel that I still love him. This is all kind of a no-brainer but it is the self-discipline part that is tough to master.

So, now that you've spent the last five minutes of your time reading about something you didn't ask to hear, do you want to share what your goal(s) are? Do you set any goals at the beginning of the year? Do you just have an ongoing process? Are you formal or informal about your goals? If the holiday season hasn't sucked up all of your energy, feel free to spill some of your thoughts.