Memorial Day was pretty chill this year, which is fine by me. We had a little dinner party thingey at Nat's house. Here are some pics.
Pete likes to make this face when I take his picture. Why smile when you can make a scary face?:
By the way, what he's eating there is Mississippi Mud Bars, courtesy of Nat. Ohhh, were those good...
Nat, whose eyes match her shirt:
Dad, whose eyes match his shirt:
Dylan was grumpy that Jake wasn't letting him ride his bike. I told him to call whine-one-one for the waahmbulance:
Ben, in the following picture, serving all of us. I think he lost a bet or something, which was why we elected him to serve us. But I can't quite remember. I was too drunk. JUST KIDDING!!!
Don't worry. Ben and I still have our jobs. :) Our occupational therapist actually "fired" Micah.
Micah used to like her just fine, but for some reason, when I started working, he went through this weird Stranger Danger phase, and he got over it with everyone else except poor Aimee. When she comes over, it's an hour-long cryfest. Even if she doesn't touch him. Just the fact that she's in the same room with him makes him so angry. He casts all of these withering looks at her and just cries and cries. She has me do all of the exercises with him, under her tutelage, and then sits far away, not even looking at him, because that seems to exacerbate the situation, but he still cries the whole time.
So finally, after a particularly exhausting session this last Tuesday, she called me and asked if we would be okay with she and another therapist "switching" clients. I feel so badly. What is his problem? He is just fine with his developmental therapist. And I can't figure out why. They both do the same kinds of exercises with him. And I honestly think Aimee is really cool and very sweet. I just don't get it.
Here is a picture of Aimee and Micah, in happier times, last fall:
And Carrie, I think you and Aimee graduated together. She remembered you. I can't for the life of me remember her maiden name, but you should recognize her, probably.
Here's hoping that Micah will like the new gal better.
Sadie always says, "Happy Birthcake!" instead of "Happy Birthday." I think it's really cute.
Anywho, my little Micah turned one last Saturday! I cannot believe it. My baby is now a toddler. Who doesn't quite toddle. But he seems to be transitioning into that toddler mentality. The other day, I was playing with him on the floor, and Sadie came and sat on my lap, and he got jealous. He was trying to claw at her arm to get her to go away. And so it begins. Sigh.
We had a little family par-tay that night. Here are some shots.
Dylan helped Micah to open his presents:
Bows are always more exciting than the gifts when you're a one-year-old:
My mom got Micah the same push-top toy that she got Ivy. Those are crowd-pleasers with the one-year-old set:
Ben got Micah these toy cars called Automoblox. They are a lot of fun:
I was really, really tired. I had spent the day scrubbing my house:
Ivy sat on my dad's lap and kept pulling at his arm hairs. She was fascinated with them:
Ben made Micah's cake. Actually, I should say "cakes," plural. He wanted to make Micah his own little cake to attack:
Plus a big one for the family to eat:
He came up with the powdered sugar thing himself. It turned out so cool. And score that I didn't have to bake.
Here's Micah, in the middle of eating his cake:
He was so funny. He ate it like Dylan ate his first birthday cake. He lowered his head and didn't really involve his hands at first. He just put his head down like a horse to a trough and started sucking on it. My video of it wouldn't upload to here, but I'm considering putting it on YouTube so that I can then embed it to here from there. We'll see what my free time is like this evening.
Displacement: the transfer of an emotion from its original focus to another object, person, or situation.
Lately, when I say something Sadie doesn't like, oh, for example, "You can't go play with your friends until you eat your lunch," she yells, "I'm stupid!" or "I'm an idiot!" I know she really means, "You're stupid!" or "You're an idiot!", but she knows that if she says that, she'll be in deep doodoo. So this is how she expresses her anger toward me. :)
I usually do tons of blogging, as you know. But my blogginghood has been stymied for the past week or so, because I've been cooking. And cooking. And cooking.
Evidence:
I baked a few strawberry/rhubarb pies, and I took a couple of pieces over to my friend Megan. And she blogged about it and took this gorgeous picture! (Which totally made my day, Meg.)
Here's the thing. When we moved into this ward, I was immediately put into young women's, and when you're in young women's, you just don't really completely know what's going on in the ward. I got released (something about which I'm still mourning) a couple of weeks ago, and suddenly, there I was, in Relief Society. And I knew like three people in there. So I decided to get all gung-ho and sign up for every dang thing that's coming up, because I need to get to know these ladies! I can't do a lot of the activities - some are in the day, when I'm working, and I've skipped some of the nighttime activities, because I feel guilty about spending time away from my hubs and kids, because I work so much, and I want to stay home and spend time with them. So, because I feel really guilty about not going to every single activity, I keep signing up to cook stuff. So I cook stuff on my days off, and that way, I feel a little bit better. And I keep signing up for too much, I think. And then I get really stressed out, and my kitchen is in a perpetual state of stickiness. But I just can't stop.
And I'm a perfectionist. And there have been times when I've had a baby, and people sign up to bring meals, and um... they never showed up. Or a couple of times, people brought their "meal" over, and it was a small noodle casserole the size of a salad plate, intended for our entire family. And that's it. So whenever I bring a meal to someone, I'm like, "No one is starving on my watch!!!" So I bring in a three-course meal, a drink, and a dessert. Big-time overkill.
I also visit-teach four gals, three of whom are inactive and never, ever return phone calls. And I feel guilty that I don't get ahold of them, so I always cook yummy desserts and drop them off at said girls' homes with a nice note every month. (Megan is one of my visiting teachees, and she lets me into her house, but I bring her food just because she's fun and cool.)
My friend Kara had a baby. So I made a three-course meal for her a couple of weeks ago, plus a drink, plus dessert. Aaaaand, this month, it was May, and strawberries have been in season, and I thought to myself, I will make some strawberry/rhubarb pie. And I ended up making three pies. One for my family, and two (cut into pieces) for the myriads of people in the ward who are having a hard time or sick, plus my visiting teachees, plus my visiting teaching companion (I felt guilty that I haven't given her a baby gift yet, and her baby is now two months old), plus my grandpa and dad, who love strawberry/rhubarb pie.
Whew.
And then our young women had a fundraising Mexican meal, and an accompanying silent auction of baked goods. And because I'm still in mourning over being released from young women, and since I felt guilty that I couldn't afford to go to the Mexican fundraising meal, I signed up for the silent auction and made some homemade rolls for it (which were SOLD! [mallet pounding] for $12! Not bad...). I arrived to hand over my rolls like 30 seconds before the activity.
Whew.
Then I had some cute girls to whom I used to teach Sunday School (Did you get a load of that sentence structure, Mindy? A thing of beauty...) come over for Sunday dinner, and of course I had to do this complicated, three-course meal for them. And then Nat had us over for a lunch thing yesterday, and I brought this huge thing of pretzel salad. And tonight I made a complicated, three-course meal for cute Emily in my ward.
My kitchen is a catastrophe!!!
And my nose is burning, because I chopped up a bunch of jalapenos and anaheim peppers, and then rubbed my nose, and weird, potent pepper juice went up my nose. My eyes and nose are streaming right now...
I'm wondering if I need therapy to get over my guiltissues, because they're running me ragged!!!
My grandma used to have like three charm bracelets, each completely full with charms from trips, milestones, children, etc. They were actually stolen sometime in the seventies, I think, and they were probably worth hundreds of dollars, because each charm is like 20 bucks. She gave each of me and my sisters charm bracelets when we were little, and then she would give us charms every year for our birthday and Christmas gifts, each charm signifying something that was happening in our lives. I loved it. We also got charms as souvenirs when we went on trips when I was growing up. The Christmas after Grams died, my mom got each of my sisters and I a charm that says "Grandma." It's a heart. I need to start buying myself charms, now that Grams isn't here to do it for me! Or if I ever go on a trip, I will have to buy charms for my bracelet.
Dylan LOVES my charm bracelet. He always asks me to get it out, and then he asks what each charm stands for. Sometimes I let him wear it for a minute, if he's very careful:
If charms weren't so girly, I'd start him on his own charm bracelet.
She is so pretty, I think. And cute and very smart. Pete calls her Ivylicious Def. Kind of a takeoff on that song "Fergalicious," the part that goes:
Fergalicious def. Fergalicious def. Fergalicious def. Defdefdefdefdef... Fergalicious definition make them boys go crazy..."
That song makes me shake my booty. Anyways. We had a leetle party for her about a week ago. Here are some shots from that evening.
Brock helped her open all of her presents. Ivy was more interested in playing with the bows from the presents anyways:
Dylan was playing with some glasses from their Mr. Potato Head toy, and Jake told him he looked like Dr. Octo. Is that the name of the bad guy from Spiderman 2? I can't remember. That's my guess:
Nat got Ivy the book, A Fish Out of Water. I had forgotten about that book, and when I saw it, all of these old, good memories from when I was very, very small came flooding back to me. I can't describe it. It was one of my very favorite books, and I haven't seen it around my parents' house since I was like five. I don't really know what happened to it. And I forgot about it until I saw Ivy open it. And it made me so excited!
It's like when you smell something, and it brings you back to your childhood. I love when that happens. Last night, we were at Mom's house, and she was cooking some bacon to put in a salad, and suddenly, I realized that my grandma and grandpa's house always smelled like bacon. I don't know why it took me this long to realize that, because I cook bacon all the time, but it just hit me like a ton of bricks. It smelled like my grandparents' house used to smell. And it brought back really good, happy memories. I told Mom that, and she said, "Yeah, Grandma used to cook bacon for breakfast every single morning." I never knew that!
A couple of weeks ago, I went to pick up Sadie from preschool, she was working on a puzzle of humpty dumpty. It was the exact same puzzle I had when I was very small, and I just got chills and started squealing. I love when that stuff happens. I wanted to ask if I could buy the puzzle, just so I could have it again.
So here I am, looking at my favorite childhood book. I'm gonna have to get it for my kids:
Sorry I look so gross. I just got my jog in right before we went over there. And sorry you can see my garmies. I forgot to put my belt on, so my pants were falling down, of course. Again, because I have a flat butt and no hips (no matter how fat I get), my pants are always falling down. I could be 300 pounds and my pants would still fall down. Just the way it is.
Here is Dad, describing Lexi's knee:
Lex no longer has a miniscus, and she's missing one of her ligaments. She is going to have surgery next month, with parts from a cadaver! Ewwwww!!!
Here is Sadie. She was soooooooooo dirty that night. It was that night I was telling you about, where she looked like our nappy neighbor girl, Ashlynn:
I just didn't have time to clean her up before we went over.
And, parenthetically, Ashlynn was running around with a t-shirt and nothing on her bottoms a couple of evenings ago. No underwear whatsoever. Just hanging out there. She's five years old. Ben opened the door and yelled at her: "Get in your house and put on some underwear, Ashlynn!!" And her brother, H.B., looked down sheepishly and said, "I'm not wearing any underwear, either..." He at least was wearing jeans, but he was going commando, apparently. Ben came in and muttered, "There is something majorly wrong in that household..."
I love my mom's crow's feet. I love it when she has this expression on her face. I just think she's cute:
We sang to Ivy, and then Brock really quickly blew her candle out. Jake was yelling at him in this shot. I think it's really funny:
Ben and the kids were so sweet on Mother's Day. Ben let me sleep in, and then he brought me breakfast in bed. Then, when I came upstairs, Dylan gave me the gift he made at school:
I love little school-made gifts like this. And the little Christmas ornaments that they make at school. They are the best. My parents still have a bunch of crap that I made them when I was in elementary school. :) Dylan purposely painted his handprint purple, because he remembered that's my favorite color. How cute is he???
He also made me a card:
He is such a babe.
At church, all the moms got dianthas. I need to figure out where to put mine. And quick:
Mom invited us over to her house for a little Mother's Day barbecue. Lex made her an awesome necklace:
It says "Best Mom Ever Award." She made it with tin foil and then put clear boxing tape over it. It made me giggle.
And I gave mom some 5X7's of the professional pictures my family got taken in December:
Ben couldn't afford to get me a Mother's Day present, and I was kind of sad about that for a few days (even though I didn't say that to him). I just... so desperately need some clothing. All of mine is in tatters. Literally. And stained. I look so shabby, and I keep wondering if my office manager is going to say something to me. I do clean and iron what I own, but I don't know if that can make up for the little holes in all of my shirts, or the fact that my black shirt now looks kind of grey and splotchy. So I was hoping for some clothing action, and I was sad that Ben couldn't do that for me. Aren't I a huge, materialistic brat???? I feel really guilty about feeling sad about no physical gifts from Ben, because truly, the best gift ever on Mother's Day is the knowledge that I have these three gorgeous, sweet, amazing children. They are so smart and they give me so much love. The fact that I'm able to have children, and that they're healthy and happy, is a huge, huge blessing. So I'm trying to get over myself. :)
Micah's occupational therapist wanted us to switch from Gerber 2nd foods to the chunkier Gerber 3rd foods, and the transition hasn't been pretty. He HATES the taste of the 3rd foods. There seem to be a whole lot of tomato sauce and spices in most of the little meals, and he fights eating them, tooth and nail. He's supposed to eat, like, a whole jar at lunch, and then half a jar at dinner, and we're lucky to get an eighth of a jar in him each time. And it takes 45 minutes to get that eighth of a jar in him. With much fighting:
I had to go to the grocery store this weekend, and I was naughty and went back to buying Gerber 2nd foods. I'm terrified of him losing weight again and being even farther behind than he already is. Maybe we can revisit the 3rd foods again in a month. For now, I want him to maintain his healthy weight. Micah's occupational therapist stood us up today, and I'm kind of glad. I didn't want to have to tell her that I'm going against her wishes...
As far as real human food, Micah is doing a little bit better about bringing food to his mouth. He used to never, ever do that. And now we're getting him to bring some foods to his mouth and gum them up with his little gums. So we're still working that angle, as well. Most kids at his age are full-on eating grown-up food, but he's just not there yet. His cousin, who is only two weeks older than him, can eat a whole piece of pizza by herself! I'm in awe of her...
One of the first movies my family ever owned was An American Tail. I LOVE this movie. There is a part on it that always makes my sisters and I chuckle. A lady with a speech impediment is telling some dude that they need to throw a rally. But she can't say her r's or l's, so it sounds like "wowee."
Rich Lady: We need to have a wowee. Drunk City Official: A wowee? What's a wowee? Rich Lady: You know... a gathewing of peopoh... foh a weason. Drunk City Official: Oh... you mean a rally. Rich Lady: That's what I said. A wowee.
I actually found a clip of this conversation on YouTube. Classic. If you want to skip to the dialogue from above, it's at about one minute, 35 seconds:
We had an opportunity to attend a wowee a couple of weeks ago.
This is one of my bosses, Donevan:
He's a therapist. He actually calls me "Boss," which I think is kind of funny. Anyways, he works with a lot of teens and with a few tweens, as well, and a lot of his clients have had issues with being bullied in school. So he decided to have an anti-bullying campaign. He spoke at a few schools, and put posters up all over area schools that say, "No Bullying Zone." And then he sponsored a poster contest. The big winner would get a Nintendo Wii.
I told Dylan about the contest, and he was convinced that he was going to win the grand prize. I love those delusions of grandeur that kids have. It cracks me up. I forgot to have him work on it until the day it was due. I was at work that day, so I told my mom to have him make the poster.
She and Dylan talked a lot about it, and Dylan decided that maybe some kids bully because they are lonely and don't know how to make friends with people. I think there may be some truth to that. So Dylan came up with this:
Probably the dang cutest thing ever. In case you can't see his writing (or read it), it says, "If you don't push me down, then I will be your friend." I love it. I actually never saw the poster, because he took it to school that day.
My boss, Donevan, gathered the posters up from all of the schools - there were 1800 posters submitted!! And then he turned them directly in to the committee of judges, which was made up of superintendents from both school districts and also the mayor. I'm not sure who else.
I got a phone call the day before the wowee from Dylan's teacher, Miss V. She said that Dylan had won a prize, but she wasn't sure which one. And I promise that it wasn't rigged, even though Donevan is my boss. He never even looked at the posters. Just picked them up and handed them over to the judges.
So we went to the wowee at the public library the next day.
It turns out that Dylan won the first prize for Kindergarten boys in the entire city!! So he didn't win the grand prize - that went to a sixth grader, I think - but he was still thrilled:
He got a chance to shake hands with the mayor and some state representative that came over:
I'm so political, aren't I? "Some state representative..." I'm so clueless!!
The mayor spoke for a few minutes and talked about how he had been bullied in elementary school. I thought that was interesting. And Donevan told me that Dylan's poster was the mayor's utmost favorite. :)
Here's a picture of all of the winners:
And Dylan's certificate:
One of our local news channels actually interviewed Dylan:
They interviewed him for, like, five minutes, but it only showed a teeny blurb of him. He is on for a moment at one minute, two seconds:
Here's a little newspaper article about the event:
Dylan's teacher, Miss V, was there with her fiance:
After the wowee was officially over, Ben took some pictures of the kids playing around on the lawn area:
Micah was soooo tired and grumpy:
Wilson Rawls wrote Where the Red Fern Grows while he was living here in Idaho Falls in the fifties, so there is a statue showing the main character and his two dogs on the lawn at our public library:
Oh, and I forgot the most fun part - Dylan's prize. He won the movie, Kung Fu Panda, and also a certificate to Barnes and Noble. We actually went to Red Robin to celebrate after the wowee, and then straight to Barnes and Noble. Dylan got two books about dinosaurs.
This was really a good thing for Dylan. He needs as many positive strokes as he can get. He's soooooooooooooo difficult sometimes, so I try to shower him with affection and love and time whenever possible, to offset all the times he's in time-out and in trouble. :) He's extremely smart, and I think he gets bored easily. And that's when he is a troublemaker. If I was able to spend every second of the day one-on-one with him, he would be perfect. He's very well-behaved when he has constant attention. But if I'm making dinner or helping one of the other kids, he is usually naughty. So it was good for him to have something positive happen. I hope this will encourage him to continue exploring art. I did art while I was growing up and entered many contests like this, and it was a great part of my childhood and teen years. So we'll see what happens.
