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 :).