Prince Tolleeee

When Ptolemy was born, he was so perfect and precious.  I don't know how he did it, but he got more perfect.  He is so perfectly adorable that it's hard for anyone to get anything done.  All we do is watch Ptolemy, laugh at him and then tell each other what he just did that was so cute.  There is a constant stream of commentary on Tolly's every move.  "Did you hear Tolly?  He said 'I wanna get candy!'"  "Did you see Tolly?  He climbed up on the counter and then laughed at me!"  Whenever he learns a new word, everyone claims to have taught it to him.

I recently heard Tolly in his crib, crying.  When I picked him up, he said, "Ooooh Mama!  I cryin'!  Oooooh, Mama!  I cryin'!"  He used the same "It's OK" voice that I use when I'm comforting him.  It was so cute that I kept telling people about it.  Ptolemy started getting embarrassed and ran to a corner to hide.  Now, when we tell funny stories about him, he covers his eyes.  Cuuuute!

Suddenly, this little guy speaks in complete sentences.  His all-purpose phrase is "Ayannna,"as in "I want."  Ayanna go!  Ayanna see!  Ayanna cookie!  Cake!  Ayanna donut!  Ayanna get out!" He is very polite.   Whenever you give him something or do something for him, he says with gusto, "Thank you!  Thank you, Mama!"  He says, "Hep you!  Hep you!"  when he needs help climbing up on something that's too high or opening something he shouldn't be opening.  He broke a doorknob hanging on it screaming, "Owside!!  Owside!!  Ayanna go owside!!  Obenit!!  Obenit!!"  (Open it, another frequent request.)  He goes around the room demanding high fives from everyone.  "High fie!  High fie!"  Because everyone is always trying to get Ptolemy to say things, he tries to teach the dogs to talk.  The other day, he was trying to get Star to say "yummy."  He took a bite of a cracker and said to Star, "Say yummy, Star!  Yummy!"

He mimicks everything he hears, so that if two people are having a conversation, the last word of each sentence is echoed is a darling, cheerful, enthusiastic voice.

Golda, did you get your ballet shoes?
Shoes!!
Yes.  Is is time to go?
Go!!
Yes, go get in the car.
Car!!
But I can't find my script for play practice.
Pay pacsik!!
See if Ruby has it.
Meebee hab it!!

There's so much cuteness in the air all the time, it's intoxicating!

Another favorite of Ptolemy's is, "No night night."  Now at bedtime, he says, "No night night.  A show!  Ayanna watch a show!  A fun!"  We were listening to music in the car, and it went from fast to slow.  Ptolemy said, "No music night night!  A fiano no night night!"  So funny that he thought the piano might have to go to sleep if the music was soft.

I guess I've made it clear that Prince Tolleeee, fabulousleeee (sung to the Aladdin song Prince Ali) is everyone's favorite baby.  As soon as I finish this post, it will be outdated by the latest thing PT has done.  He is learning so fast and having so much fun doing it, he makes life a song.  A fast song, because we don't want to think about going night night.  It's too sca-eee!

By The Way

Who is this adorable baby girl??

I can't help it.  I just can't.  Amy Chua's daughter has a blog, and I love it.  The tiger cub speaks!  Check it out.  Oh, and Xanthe had a(nother) birthday party.  It was a Sugarplum Fairy party because she planned it back in December, and it was adorable.  I kept it to an hour because that's about the maximum length of time you can entertain kids with absolutely no advance planning.  Golda, Ruby and Ari dressed up in some old ballet costumes and did the girls' hair and make-up.  They got a little carried away with my expensive eyeliner and drew pictures on everyone's cheeks, but hey.  The girls loved it.  Aunt Michelle kept watch on the boys in the basement at their completely separate Bey Blade party.  The two groups came together for cake and ice cream at the end.  It was fabulous!  Grandma made a beautiful cake, for which I was very, very grateful.  Every child got a frosting flower and everyone was happy.  Thank you, Grandma!  The funniest part of the party was that Xanthe could not, for the life of her, blow out the candles.  After each failed attempt, she cracked up.  After several tries, the other kids stepped it.  It looked like she was aiming wrong.  I wondered about her depth perception with the bad vision in her left eye, but it was a hoot.  Oh, that kid!  Love her!

Good Eggs

As the big Easter Egg Hunt approaches, bags of candy-filled eggs are multiplying like rabbits at our house.  Every time I get home, there are bags on the doorstep and more bags in the pile in the entryway.  Today, Ptolemy discovered that those brightly colored "balls" are, indeed, as fun as they look.  There is candy inside!  I guess it's time to move the whole stash to the back of the car where Tolly can't pillage the eggs for treats.  Freestone, Jake, Ari and Xanthe have been working today on our share of the eggs.  We do 50 dozen extra eggs because, even though everyone is generous with their contributions, it just works out that way.  Once, I didn't do extras and I was sad;  it seemed like a lot of kids didn't get enough eggs.  We want overkill, people, OVERKILL!  It's challenging when Ptolemy opens the eggs and eats the candy as fast as the kids fill them, but it's all so much fun.  He brought me a piece of candy this morning and said, "Hide it!"

We also have a more delicious variety of eggs, the malted milk kind in the chocolate coconut nests, courtesy of Aunt Michelle.  We have had the opportunity to have Michelle and Jake move in with us for awhile, hence the proliferation of delicious dinners and fancy treats.  There is something to be said for having an extra mom in the house, especially one who is a gourmet chef and loves to hang out on the floor with kids, playing games and talking about topics like how the turkey was once going to be our national bird.  Freestone moved into the "attic" with Golda, and Ruby moved into the Panda Princess Palace with Xanthe, transforming the purple room into a little treasure box of hot pink and bright orange.  Freestone's vast collection of stuffed dogs has been hard on Golda's tidy sensibilities, but I heard the two kids discussing baptism and other topics late at night the other night, and I realized the two of them were going to be fine roommates.  Golda has never had the chance to be on the receiving end of Freestone's endless nighttime conversation, and she gets a kick out of it.  Michelle and Jake have a cute little suite downstairs, including the newly-tiled bathroom, a bedroom each and a cozy living room. 

The new living arrangement has been beneficial all around so far, between the delicious dinners Michelle has prepared, the extra driver to get the kids around, the incentive of a built-in friend to play with after homework and practicing is done, and the unique opportunity to strengthen our relationships with Jake and Michelle as well as among the siblings who now share rooms.  Golda was scrounging for a snack to eat on the way to her band festival last night.  I suggested an apple.  Then Michelle said, "Here, why don't I just give you one of these (homemade!) pesto mozzarella chicken wraps to go?"  No doubt about it, my kids are in heaven.  As a "party of ten," we are as snug and content as eggs in a carton, and looking forward to more eggciting adventures together.  Sometimes when you think life is throwing rotten eggs at you, it turns out the eggs are really full of sweets.  We love you, Michelle and Jakey!  You're good eggs.

Hurricanes

Araceli, Araceli.  She is a hurricane in a little girl's body.  Sometimes you get the calm eye of the storm, and sometimes the gale-force winds rip you to shreds.  From the moment Araceli was born, she was beautiful and she was loving.  And from the moment she could hold a pair of scissors or a permanent marker, I have been reading parenting books on how to bend her will to mine, to protect not only her hair and the walls, but my sanity.  If a relationship with Ari requires more effort than most, the return is a hundred-fold, if you can figure out how to get it.

I have learned many things through my journey on the Araceli Express.  First, her will is un-bendable.  Thank heavens she has a loving disposition, and strives to make her parents happy.  I have also learned that the amount of attention each child needs is not the same from child to child or from day to day, and life can never be equitable that way.  A child who comes home from school in a spitting, screaming rage because "All my friend cares about is HARRY POTTER!" requires more attention than a kid who comes home happy and gets right to work on her homework.  Ari has been both children, so I'm becoming equipped to deal with whichever one walks in the door.  Ari is like Springtime; the weather is volatile and changeable and unpredictable, but the energy in the air makes you want to sing.  Of course, there are times when the sky darkens and the storms beat down and you forget that night can't last forever.  The air is charged with electricity and no bird dares fly.

Ari waits out those dark times by creating things that I have learned not to regard as "messes."  Rows of baby cribs with dolls carefully tucked in, collages of beads, papers, glue and sticks; stacks of love notes to her parents and friends, expansive kitchen experiments of sugar, food coloring and flour.  These are outlets for the floods that course through her hurricane mind.  Yesterday, Ari got in trouble for stepping on Xanthe's sash and being a hysterical nuisance.  She was sent to her room to take a deep breath.  I heard her sobs ripping through the air, and I peeked in and said, "I hear you crying.  I know you're upset."  A few minutes later, the sobs were replaced by a chord on the cello.  Then another one.  Then a song, and another song.  I have never felt so much gratitude for music.  Through all the growing pains, Ari has never seriously demanded to quit cello, or refused to practice.  I think she knows as well as I do that her music can save her when she has grown out of the doll cradles and collages.  I am thankful to have such a creative, passionate, amazing daughter.  Without her, life would be a desert.

Manly Mommy Blog...Check it Out

You hafta look at this hilarious blog, the manly Mormon Mommy blog...or somethin'.  Especially scroll down and watch the video on "The Man Cold."  hee hee hee...

Oh, Brother!

Are you looking for good ways to hemorrhage money while getting nothing fun in return?  How about replacing two corroded water heaters?  One of ours started leaking all over.  Scott was panicked about the water ruining the carpet and flooring.  He had blankets and towels all over the floor, soaking up the leak.  He was practically up all night babysitting the water in the utility closet, directing it politely toward the drain.  He was worried sick.

The next morning, the plumber came over, took one look and said, "Yep.  It's shot."  He then reached his arm up to a giant, red lever at eye level on the hot water heater, turned the giant lever a quarter turn to the left and said, "OK, now I've turned the water to this heater off, so it won't leak anymore."

Duuuuuuuuh!

The lever practically said, "OFF!  ON!" With arrows.  A baby could turn it with one finger.  We wouldn't even have had to borrow a tool from Ross up the street to turn the water off ourselves.  But sadly, we were too home-improvement-challenged to realize that.

I have to give Scott credit, though, for not only saving our carpet with his heroic vigil, but also learning how to tile and grout this week.  He and his brothers, dad and mom tiled our two downstairs bathrooms over the course of three very long evenings, plus an extra day of hanging cement board for Bruce and Marlene.  I can't even thank them enough.  On the third night, I got home from teaching at about 9:30 to find a row of cars lined up in front of my house.  They guys were still working, and I knew their families were at home, they had come straight from work, and they were getting up early the next morning.  Their time is precious, and they shared it with us, no questions asked.  Thanks, Mom and Dad, Ryan,Jer, Jeff and Clint.  We really appreciate you.  It kindof makes me want to have two more sons, in case Freestone and Ptolemy ever need a helping hand turning off a water valve or tiling a bathroom!

Families Are Forever

I (and others) have been given the question of how to impart to our young women the notion that getting married and having a family are central to God's plan.  Whoa.  Does that sound archaic and frumpy and slightly embarrassing, and maybe even mean and exclusionary?  In the climate of our culture, it does, a little bit.  I am almost afraid of this discussion because it's so easy to devalue the choices people make in order to justify your own choices.  I don't think we should teach the young women to feel judgmental or self-righteous, nor do I think it's good for them to feel as if "the world" is targeting them for their beliefs.  I don't want the girls to believe that people who choose differently than they do are the enemy.  I just want them to be strong enough in their convictions that they can live a life centered around family, probably staying home with their kids, while not feeling threatened by others' opinions. That being said, I am increasingly grateful that there is a voice for domesticity, with so many voices saying it's an outdated idea, an oppressor of women. 

Recently it seems like it's disingenuous to suggest that life can be happy.  Talking about the hard parts or the bad parts of life is equated with honesty.  Read this article from Salon,com, if you haven't already.  The author describes herself as "your standard-issue late-20-something childless overeducated atheist feminist."  (I know a LOT of over-educated stay-at-home-moms.  Don't flatter yourself, lady.)  The author can't figure out why she is so attracted to "Mormon Mommy Blogs," where life just seems so rosy.  She is suspicious of the contentment and the simplicity of life when she contrasts it to the stress of her own. 

Why are we so skeptical of happiness?  Why are we so cynical about faith?  What I want to impart to all the young women in my group is this:  That a happy, family-centric life is a possibility, it's a reality for me and many women around me, and it can be a reality for you.  In fact, it should be your greatest desire.  Everything you undertake in your education, your training, your relationships with other people, your personal fulfillment, can be with your future family in mind.  What do I want to be prepared to teach them?  What kind of environment will I be prepared to create in my home?  What opportunities will I be able to provide for my children?  What will my children perceive as important to me?  How will I show them that I am happy about my decision to raise a family?  How will I be an example to them of a strong, educated, thoughtful, engaged, charitable, spiritual woman?  How will I continue to learn and grow as I manage a family?  What kind of example will my marriage be for them?  Ladies, raising kids isn't about baking cookies and sewing Halloween costumes, as Salon.com suggests.  You can do all that and love it, but parenthood is infinitely more.  It is an eternal partnership with God, the father of the children who are in your care.  It's a pretty big deal.  Believe that there is not a more important role for you in this life, and plan accordingly and prayerfully.  This is a personal journey.  You won't attain happiness by comparing yourself to others, but you will always find answers in prayer.  Things will happen that are not ideal.  Divorce, financial constraints, work schedules, maybe years and years of waiting to find a spouse, infertility.  I want you to prepare for the life you want so you can face challenges with a full arsenal of tools.

I talked to both Golda and Ruby about this subject tonight.  I asked Golda if she would really give up a successful Broadway career to stay home with her children.  She quickly said she would, and gave her reason:

"Because a family lasts forever and Broadway doesn't."

True or false?

Hey You! Join the Hunt!

Click picture to enlarge.  Sorry it's sideways.  You might have to tip your head.

Weight a Minute

Ptolemy weaned himself a couple of weeks ago.  One day when it was time to nurse, he looked up at me perplexed and said, "It's gucky."  And that was it.  Complete rejection, and not a moment too soon.  If a kid can actually articulate why he wants to stop nursing...?  Yeah, I know.  But he's my last baby!!

Anyway, I've been ballooning up since the weaning, and now I'm NINE pounds overweight.  Only through the strictest self-discipline was I able to put that thought out of my head all week while I was pounding back cookies and Seacoast Pizza at the beach.  28-inch chicken-bacon-garlic-ranch pizza.  Grease was dripping off my chin.  But don't worry, the cookies absorbed the grease.

Now I'm back to my senses and not enjoying my thighs being twice the size they should be. So this is (maybe) the last picture you'll see of me (for awhile) snarfing down junk food as fast as I can.  Once I'm down to my usual size, however, you could see me once again with a giant bag of kettle corn, freshly popped, or a big bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough, or a buttery dose of Kaysville Theater popcorn, extra extra butter.  Or just a big stick of butter.

Until then, it's all veggies and fruits and lots of water.  If you see me, would you be so kind as to ask me if I've lost any weight?  Avoiding public humiliation is a big motivator, despite what my kids might think when I go out of the house with mismatched socks and magenta hair.  Thanks for your help!

It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To

"It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To" is the perfect song for Xanthe.  She is such a high-strung kid, her birthday celebration today (real b-day is Sunday) was equal parts misery and elation.  The misery was the waiting for the cake, the pizza, the party, the presents.  On a day that was forecast to be rainy in San Diego, we had clear, blue skies for a beautiful walk on the pier.  Xanthe dragged herself around like a wet noodle, moaning about how hungry she was.  She has been working on smiling and being "likable," so she got lots of chances to plaster on her fake smile as she suffered through the parts of her (fake) birthday that didn't involve food.  (FYI:  I promise, we FEED her!  ALL the time!)

At least she had her dollar-store faux hair braids to flip around.  Every stranger on the street today got their own personal hair-braid-flip from Xanthe.  She felt like hot stuff, our little six-year-old!  She told me after our little party that her favorite part of her birthday was "cake and ice cream and lunch."  Surprise, surprise!  :)

As Xanthe gets older, more of her personality reveals itself.  Xanthe is not a giver as far as love and affection.  She is very guarded about showing smiles or revealing her feelings, unless they are feelings of discontent or hunger.  When a true smile cracks her face and her eyes transform into twinkles, Xanthe is a different girl.  It has been five years since Scott and I met Xanthe and saw her first tentative smile.  Not wanting to give away too much, she would just stick out her little tongue to let us know she was in there during those first few days we were together.  Xanthe is still a closed book in some ways, with an extremely strong padlock guarding her true self.  Sometimes I look into her eyes and imagine the generations of steely, courageous Han warriors who came before Xanthe.  Her ancestors had to be warriors for their bloodline to result in our courageous fighter.  I cry for her family's loss, and for Xanthe's, but I celebrate the inclusion in our eternal family of this spicy little girl.  I imagine that behind all Xanthe's might, there is a fragile little flower.  That is the girl I try to nurture when I'm dealing with the girl who is the iron mask with the megaphone voice.  Every girlish giggle is a victory, and we had lots today.  Happy birthday, Xanthe Mary Mei!  We love you!