A Public Commitment

I'm done.

I'm sick of reaching the end of a day and--looking around at the dirty dishes, piles of laundry, and just plain messy house--vaguely wondering how I spent the last 12 hours.

I've had it with complaints from my children, my husband, and my soul that I don't spend enough time with them.

I'm sick and tired of waking up exhausted before I even get out of bed in the morning.

I'm moving forward.

I'm taking control of my life.

I'm organizing my life into routines that provide rhythm as well as momentum to my daily activities.

I'm setting aside time to play and read with my children.

I'm making time to spend with my husband.

I'm finding time for ME--to exercise, study and quietly meditate, pursue hobbies, and connect with friends.

I'm going to get those dishes done, that laundry back in the drawers, and those messes picked up.

I'm going to stop procrastinating, focus on the task at hand, and prioritize.

This is my life.

I'm going to live it.

(Probably, it can't be done. But I'm going to at least try.)

The Baby Food Battle

Becca just ate a whole quarter of a cheese quesadilla! I haven't seen her so interested in food since she suddenly decided baby food was for sissies about three weeks ago and pretty much quit cold turkey. Ever since, I've been struggling to find things to feed her. All the finger-food standards have been rejected by my newly picky baby: peas, cheese, grapes, egg yolks, canned fruit, all of it spit out and thrown on the floor. She's pretty much been subsisting on bottles, bananas and baby yogurt, gnawing raw carrots and apple slices, and only occasionally succumbing to my sneaky-mother tricks that distract her just long enough to shovel a little baby food into her preoccupied mouth.

None of my other children were quite this picky. Nathan was picky, but at least he had his standard favorites that I could always rely on him to eat. Matthew, true to his adventurous nature, will try anything new including food. Maggie ate everything that everyone else was eating as a baby and only recently started refusing unfamiliar foods (probably because she noticed that one or the other of her brothers didn't like it). But Becca takes the cake, as far as picky eating is concerned (she probably wouldn't even eat cake.)

So now I can add cheese quesadillas to the very short list of foods that Becca will eat, thanks to my sister Tori's suggestion (she has a picky-eater baby of her own). If anyone else has more ideas of foods to try, let me know!

Snow, Ice, and Boys

Last Saturday, Brian took the boys ice fishing up at Strawberry Reservoir with some friends. He forgot the camera, of course, but they all had a great time snowmobiling, climbing rocks, drinking hot chocolate, and even managed to catch some fish.

Matthew said he found one that didn't have any slime or blood or guts on it and carried it. And then he demonstrated how some of the fish were flopping around because they were still alive. And then he told us he put the non-slimy fish on his head. It's hard to tell where the truth turns to story in his mouth. He did manage to fall in a half-frozen auger hole in the ice and got soaked up past his knee within the first few minutes on the lake. Brian put a handwarmer in his boot and he managed to survive the day in the cold with all his toes intact.

The boys were well conditioned for cold by all the skiing they've been doing this year. Besides a week in McCall, Grandpa Camper took them skiing at Deer Valley as part of a mini family reunion the Saturday before last. And he remembered his camera.

Nathan, then Matthew, snowplow down the mountain.

The boys skiied a black diamond run that was used in the Olympics (second slope from the left). Matthew was really proud that he didn't fall in the "show".

Two happy skiers.

"I'm just a fool, a fool in love with you"

We don't celebrate Valentine's Day at our house. We celebrate The Day After Valentine's Day. It's a long story, the particulars of which no one really remembers--I think it has something to do with cheap flowers--but it's kind of become our own special day, a day to remind each other how much we love each other. This year it seems to have lasted all week, The Week of the Day After Valentine's Day, I guess.

On Sunday, Brian came home with a big bouquet of red roses and chocolate (you can never go wrong with the classics). But the best part was when he spent the rest of the day scrubbing bathrooms and doing laundry. There is nothing sexier than your man wielding a toilet brush.

I surprised him with a "Comfy Cra*per Kit". Ever since we moved to this house, you see, our master bath has been a black hole of beige and for some reason comfortable bathrooms really mean a lot to Brian. So I found plum colored towels and rugs and even splurged on some fancy candles and bath salts so he can really enjoy a good, girly soak. Oh yeah, and there's also a new plant stand to put his laptop on--one time the candles fell off the back of the toilet and dripped wax all over his laptop keyboard and ruined it. Really, I don't get what he sees in baths, I think they're lame, but he loves his comfy cra*per and has been using it all week. It's not quite finished, there's some gray-blue accent paint and framed photos in the works, but it's much more cozy than it used to be:

And then there's all the compliments he's given me this week...things like "It's okay, you can't help it if you're a boring person. But I still love you." So sweet. Also, "I feel like I'm bashing my head against a brick wall." Yeah, that was a memorable conversation...

And then, after watching a few seasons of Big Love, Brian has decided to start living "the principle". He keeps trying to bump me to third wife after Couch #1 (main floor) and Couch #2 (basement). I keep pointing out to him that it's like birth order, once a first wife always a first wife, so come to bed and let your couches take care of themselves.

Thursday night, we went out to dinner at a fantastic restaurant downtown with Brian's friend, Ray, and his wife Rosie. Poor Brian kept accusing Ray of not "following the script" because it pretty much turned into make-fun-of-Brian night. What did he think would happen if he got his wife and best friend together? Then we tried bowling again for the first time in years. Ha! Let's just say that we suck at bowling, especially me--the gutter likes my bowling ball too much to share it with the pins. But we had a great time laughing at ourselves...and each other.

And finally, last night I dragged Brian to the Daybreak Prom. It's an adult-only dinner and dance put on by our community--some people really get into it with full prom regalia and professional photos and everything. We met our neighbors, Andrea and Tim, there and while we didn't go the full formal-wear route, us girls were just hoping for a nice evening with our hubbies. Unfortunately, Brian didn't keep his end of the bargain and while the food was really pretty good and the live band was fantastic, he put his foot down and absolutely refused to dance. And so, of course, did Tim. So when Brian mentioned that he would dance if they played "Earth Angel" (as in Back to the Future, of course), Andrea ran up and talked to the band. Just as we were finally giving up and walking out the door to leave, the first few notes of "Earth Angel" started playing and the lead singer said into the mic, "Elly and Brian, come up here, this song's for you..." And everyone in the whole gym turned and looked at us. So we laughed and Brian was caught and had to dance with me, just that one dance. He even sang because the band singer didn't know the words. And Andrea and Tim got their one dance, too. It was all very romantic. And then we thanked the band and left. And I think the whole evening was worth just that one last dance.

I love you, baby.

I'm totally dragging you to the Daybreak Prom again next year.

My Bulimic Baby

Becca has discovered that if she makes gagging, choking sounds, she gets immediate attention. So she sits in her highchair and sticks her finger down her throat every 30 seconds. And I still panic every time I hear that sound.

You might need an armed guard at your computer desk...

Nathan made this in the computer lab at school yesterday:

Transcription: "WANTED BADLY

Bob has ate every mouse in Utah. He also ate all the mouse and computer factories. Luckily, he ate the mouse trap factories, so we still have mouses. Reward: $10,000,000,000,000,000"

Personally, I love the photo of himself eating a mouse...an electronic one. And hey, he got the adverb right!

The Three S's

Strep
Stitches
and
Second-degree burns

Yeah, February hasn't been the best month for us so far.

Last Monday, Maggie started running a fever. When she threw up Tuesday, I figured she just had a stomach bug and let it run its course...and run its course...and run its course until she woke up Friday morning still running a high fever. So I finally took her to the doctor and it turned out to be strep throat. Argh! Instead of spending the week comforting the invalid day and night with drinks, medicine, and back scratches, we could have actually had a week! If only I'd gotten her on antibiotics earlier... There was one day last week when I got up in the morning, sent the boys to school, went to the gym, put Becca to bed, and, exhausted from getting up every hour all night long, sat down on the couch with Maggie and Brian--the next thing we knew we were all waking up three and a half hours later!

And then, just as Maggie started behaving like a normal child again, she flipped off the little ride-around car (actually, I think Matthew pushed her) and split her chin open on the tile. Hooray. And of course, Brian wasn't home...and our neighbors have stomach flu...so I threw shoes and coats on all the children and herded them into the car while Maggie was wandering around, crying and bleeding. I dropped the kids off at some friends' house where Brian was getting ready to head out to his rec. league basketball game, and Maggie and I raced for the Insta-care. She ended up with seven stitches that give her a nice little goatee, but she was brave and didn't cry or struggle while the doctor (the same lady who took care of Becca's thumb) sewed her up. And now we've got our needy invalid back again.

That was last night. Tonight, Becca burned her thumb and index finger on the space heater Brian keeps in the basement. Funny thing is (actually, not so funny), not ten minutes before she burned her hand, I asked Brian if that heater was safe to touch and he reassured me that while it wasn't, Becca would never touch it. Whoops. After a few futile attempts to help her calm down and ease the pain from the blisters that were developing on her poor little fingers, we filled a tray with cold water and let her splash away. She made a huge mess, got both of us soaking wet, and cheered right up. Then I tried to bandage it up, as per the instructions in my Health and Wellness book. Let's just say that any aspirations I ever secretly harbored about becoming a nurse have pretty much been shot down. Even with leftover self-adhesive stretchy bandaging tape from her stitches holding it in place, that bandage was a mess and lasted all of 2 minutes before Becca managed to pick it apart and unravel the whole thing. Then she was crawling around with the long string of gauze trailing behind her...and then she tripped over it and landed on her face. But even without anything covering her poor little hand, she doesn't seem to notice the injury since she got it good and numb in that freezing cold water. Poor, poor baby.

I wonder what's going to happen tomorrow night.

Becca's Lullabye

I snuck in her room today and discovered how Becca falls asleep: Laying on her back with her eyes closed, she holds a corner of her blanket on her face with one hand and hits herself on the forehead with the other hand while her legs kick in rhythm as she hums, "Mm-mm-mm-mm."

Her future husband is going to LOVE sleeping with her.

And Tomorrow We Will Do This All Again