To Be Two Again. . .

Today our condominium had the grounds crew come and remove the gigantic leaf piles that have been hanging around for a while. This involves a truck with netting over an arched wire frame in the back, and giant crimped hose vacuum which violently spews the leaves inside the frame.

It makes a gigantic amount of noise, is large and powerfu, and is a two year old boy's dream come true. This is especially so when the truck parks itself right in front of our balcony.

Everett was fascinated for a long time, telling me excitedly about how the men were sucking the leaves inside the truck, and all about the wheels. He was glued to the window. When I suggested that we go out on the balcony to watch, he ran to get his shoes and coat faster than I'd ever seen. (He was much less happy about coming in to take his nap, but that's just how it goes.) When we got outside he spent a lot of time waving to the crew, the truck, and probably the leaves.

Seeing as Thanksgiving is tomorrow, it was a nice reminder to me that we have so many things to be thankful for. I am thankful that my boy is healthy and interested in the world around him. This is something I want to cultivate for all my children. I am also thankful that we have so many trees here (but I can say that because I don't have to personally rake all the leaves), and I am thankful for the smell of the crispy fallen leaves. I am also thankful that we live in a place that we feel safe and happy in, and that the ground crews generally do a good job keeping things neat.

Grateful. . .

Is what you are when you realize you were (with divine help), down to the milisecond, able to keep your toddler from burning down the house and/or permanently mutilating himself.

You discovered this when, after finishing folding the laundry, you walked into the kitchen in time to see him standing in front of the stove on a stool he had dragged from his room. AND, you saw that he had placed a dishtowel on one of the gas burners. AND, he was in the act of turning said burner on. AND, as soon as he saw you, he didn't, but reached and flipped the back one on instead, the sudden roar of blue flame missing the dishtowel by about an inch.

All in the time it took you to walk three feet forward to reach him.

Which is far shorter than the time it takes for you to give him a lengthy--in toddler minutes--discussion about the dangers of fire, that fire is hot, and that we never, never turn those knobs (all the while watching him nod solemnly and wondering whether he is going to remember this talk tomorrow.)


. . .Not that I would know this from personal experience.

We're finally admitting that

. . . we actually are mean parents. All that niceness you might see? It's a facade. This is what we do for entertainment in our spare time.



Because, you know, it's so much fun to see a baby cry. (As a side note, is it wrong for me to say that I love Ashley's cry? It sounds so sweet and pitiful and she always looks like you have just hurt her feelings, but I know I can only say this because I am her mother).



But we don't only torment Ashley. We're equal opportunity bullies around here.

This is Everett, at about six weeks old (and please don't mind the Christmas day mess in the background):




And, lest you think we don't let our children have any fun, here is a happier video from the same night as the first one.



So, you see, Ashley is over it and perfectly happy, although after Joel scares her she does seem a little nervous for the next couple of minutes when he looks at her. The worst part about it is that Everett seemed to think it was funny and enjoyed going up to her and scaring her, so we took these videos after he was in bed. Hopefully by today he has forgotten how fun it was for him to see his scaring roar actually elicit a reaction from someone.

Awww. . .

My good friend Natalie has nominated me for a blog award. Wasn't that nice of her? I think so, even though this award isn't prestigious--it is more of a pass-along award. But it is the thought that counts. And I would definitely link back to her, because I love her blog, but is is private! So sorry, you'll all have to miss out on this one. Natalie and I met back in our BYU married student ward when we were thrown into the Primary Presidency together. She and I, and the two others in the presidency, hit it off and have kept in contact ever since, thanks to blogging. Natalie is kind to everyone and is very unselfish. She also loves to laugh and has the kind of presence that brightens the room. She is also the mom of two small boys: Jayden 19 months (?) and Ethan, 5 months. She is busy, but she is raising happy boys so she must be hitting the mark. I wish you all could get to know her and love her.

Here's the way the "Blog Awards" work:
1. Whomever I nominate gets to put this same picture on their blog.
2. Link back to the person who nominated you on your post.
3. Nominate 5 other blogs.
4. Link up to them.
5. Leave a message (comment) on those blogs to let them know they were nominated.


Ok, this is going to be tricky because I have a lot of blogs I love to read. Some of the ones I really like are private, so I can't nominate them (all of my sisters-in-law, for some).

1. Rebecca Clark. I met her through visiting teaching in my current ward, and I have loved being able to visit her. She has a great perspective and a great sense of humor. She also has a good head solidly resting on her shoulders, which I love. Her blog is one of my very favorites; she is always posting interesting thoughts or making me laugh.

2. The Sjolseths. Sheila is also in my current ward and has a son named Everett who is three weeks older than my Everett. She also just had (as in, three days ago) an adorable little boy named Merritt, who I am so excited to get to know. She has an interesting take on a lot of things and always writes with a sense of humor. She is an educator and an amazing mother, and that shows through on a lot of what she writes.

3. The Browns. Jessica, the writer of the blog, was another member of the Primary Presidency in my married student ward. In fact, she was the President and she was an amazing one at that. She had a special love for the children, but she has a special love for everyone. She has a sweet girl named Olivia who is 10 days younger than Everett, and she also has a little boy on the way. She lives in Washington and I am always so excited to read her take on the area and the people she meets. You'll come away from her blog feeling happy.

4. The Jameses. Tori was one of my freshman roommates at BYU. We had a wonderful time together and with our other roommates. We actually shared a room, and she never even got on my nerves (I don't know if I can say the same for me bothering her)! She is very smart and loves to read, and lately she has been really into sewing and crafting. She is good at relating to anyone. She also has an amazing baby named Katrina who is only a few months older than Ashley is.

5. The Redferns--therhouse. Okay, I admit it, I don't actually know Lindsey in person (am I a blog lurker? maybe). But she is the daughter of my just-released Bishop, and she has a remarkable story. She and her husband have two amazingly cute adopted sons, one who has only recently joined their family. They have very open relationships with the birth mothers, and she and her husband do a lot to publicly advocate adoption. She has a lot of inspirational, honest posts, and she also includes great articles. She makes experiences with infertility more real and tangible to those of us who have not yet had to deal with them.



Well, those are a few of the blogs I follow. A part of why I picked these was that they are updated frequently. Have fun perusing, if you would like. And thanks again, Natalie. I wish I could send people over to you!

The Johnson Family Theatre

We have a new production currently in progress. Curious to know what it is?
We decided to revive an old classic. . .

Well, ok. I didn't decide to revive it; my boss did. In fact, I was 100% opposed to this idea, but my boss, being exceedingly short and exceedingly forceful and loud, sometimes gets me to accept a lot of ideas I wouldn't normally consider, like pulling the shopping cart with the blue police car out even though it is waaay in the back of the line. But that's a whole other issue.

So far the production is going terribly. We get no audience attendance and to be honest, we're kind of a hyde-freaks-out one act deal sort of thing. It's really not that pretty. And Mr. Hyde? Well, he's really only interested in chocolate chips and the movie Bambi. I don't know what's going on with that. And I'm not going to even mention the fact that today he ate no vegetables except for a couple of grape tomatoes.

I'm really trying to give my boss the benefit of the doubt here. He does have a rather awful cold. But to be honest? Is it a little understandable that I am tired of asking him something, anything, and be answered with no less than a roar-yell-cry of 1450 decibles? It's enough to make me want to start a workers' union. And then, THEN, when I am just getting sick of it all, he gives me the look. It's a look of pure trust and adoration, and if I'm feeling optimistic I'll think I see some undying appreciation thrown into the mix.

I think it is these moments that keep me on this job. Sometimes these nice moments are worth the headache (literally sometimes) of trying to work with a boss who thinks he is right all the time, and therefore has to get what he wants. Or he. will. just. die. We're not even going to talk about mandatory snack time.

Romances? Nope. We don't have any of those around here. Just Major One-Act Productions. (About everything)

Get back to me in the morning. Maybe the boss will call an early curtain on this production. Don't worry, I won't be disappointed--but let's keep that between you and me.

I am short.

Betcha didn't know that, did you? I don't mind being short. I really don't. It feels very normal to me to have to look up at everyone when I want to carry on a conversation. The only thing I don't like about it is that because I have a very young-looking face, being short just adds to the fact that I easily look like I'm still in high school and worrying about whether I should wear the blue sweater or the red sweater today--and oh, maybe that boy in my math class likes me.

I feel like if you see me from the back, you automatically assume I'm still 16 and idolizing my fresh new driver's license (or maybe you think I'm twelve, in which case, I have nothing more to say about that).

One comment I get a lot--that is, everywhere I go--goes something like this:

Person A: Wow! You are really young!

Me: (Laughs) Yes, I know (hoping the person won't ask the next question that only some are polite enough to refrain from).

Person A: (Looks at the two kids I have with me and debates whether I'm the mom or the nanny). So, how old are you?

Me: (thinks briefly of claiming I just have a good plastic surgeon) Oh, I'm 22.

Person A now has multiple scenarios running through his or her mind: That I had the kids by accident and possibly had a shotgun marriage because of it (this is if they check for a wedding ring); that I am in way over my head and my kids will grow up to be juvenile delinquents (this could possibly be true); or that I am either some sort of crazy anomaly or just stupid.

After all this (quick) thinking, they come out with something like: ...Oh! Well, aren't these vegetables/clothes/dog food a great price?

Sometimes they seem to feel the need to give me some advice. I try to not assume this is because of my age, but it probably is. Sometimes they feel the need to talk about how wonderful motherhood is, which is something they would say regardless of my age, I would think. But sometimes they say it in a very particular way--that is, eying me as though to say: don't think about reverting back to your partying days just because this gets hard.

For as big of a deal I am making this sound, I really do take it all with a grain of salt. I am confident in my choices; I know they were right for me. I also feel very fortunate because I know many people out there who would make better parents than I, but who are finding having kids to be a little more difficult than expected, for whatever reason. I hope my age isn't a slap in the face to them, but I understand if it is.

I get a little picky about whether strangers are judging me based on my age or on my actions. Does this matter? No. But I think it bothers me because if you see me making a mistake with my children, I would rather you think "Oh, she shouldn't do X because of Y," not "Oh, she's young and immature and doesn't know any better." That's my oldest-child-syndrome pride for you.

But the one thing that makes me laugh is evidence of how youth-obsessed our culture it. For instance, you would never find me (or anyone else with a basic sense of decency) saying to a mom, "Wow, you look really old! How old are you?" I think we can all guess how that conversation would go. But it is okay to ask someone that bluntly about being young. I understand all the reasons why, I do, and I'm happy to accept them. I just wish people would realize that maybe I feel as self-conscious about my young age as many people do about their old(er) age.

(And for the record, just because I'm 22, I don't think people in their 30's are old.)

Someday I'll have wrinkles and gray hair and wonder why I ever thought so much about how I am so young and already at this stage of life. But until then, I'll indulge myself, and practice the decorum it takes to smile warmly and reply, "yes, I'm 22."

Stats

Ashley had her 4 month well-visit, complete with immunizations today. These are her stats:

Head: 65th percentile
Height: 50th percentile
Weight: 25th percentile

The only thing I found to be remarkable was that her weight is at quite a lower percentile than her height. I am not worried about this because she is obviously a healthy baby, but this is definitely not something I'm used to seeing with Everett's numbers.

Let's see, at this age, I think he was in the 95th percentile for just about everything (at 18 months he was at 10th for height and 40th for weight, so we'll see what they say at his two year check-up).

But I just thought this was interesting. None of my babies had these kinds of numbers before this. (wait, isn't it annoying how I say "none of my babies" as though I am on my twelfth child and all of this is old hat now?)

Oh, and just in case you are wondering--no, I do not obsess over these numbers. I think about them the day of and then never even think about them again. That is, unless I'm writing a blog post about it, which probably completely negates my disclaimer here.