The end of an era

Lately I have been thinking about the history I am keeping of and for my family. Taking pictures and writing about my kids has been one of my priorities as a mother. I treasure the photos and the stories I have compiled over the years. Scrapbooks, photo albums, seven years of family newsletters, and six years of blog books fill a book case downstairs. Those books are the first material possessions I would try to rescue if a fire broke out in my home.

My life has transformed in the last year. I don't have the luxury of free time. I am always behind, overwhelmed, and scattered. I am pulled in a hundred directions. When Kate was born I was so determined that I wouldn't let my blogging passion go as my life got busier, but the reality is that new priorities have surfaced. I don't like sitting at the computer. I feel duty-bound, rather than inspired, to blog. What was once a joy has become a chore. 

Social media has also changed. When I started blogging, it was a very social, interactive activity. I loved getting feedback from friends and family about my life experiences. I reveled in the validation I received after posting crazy stories and pictures. I'm choosing not to take it personally that my blog doesn't get much traffic anymore, and that comments are few and far between.  My once-fulfilling pastime has fizzled, and that's OK.

And so I retire as a blogger. I am a little sad about it (especially because of the sweet things people have said to me since I casually mentioned my plan to stop blogging), but I am also glad to give myself permission to walk away from something that isn't working anymore. Moving on and changing direction is just part of life.

Thank you to the family and friends, near and far, who have shared my little corner of the world for the last six years.  I love you!

22 photos on the 22nd

I'm long on pictures and short on words, and as such I present: 22 photos on February 22nd.

Our Valentine's Day Feast.

Pretty in pink before a preschool party.

"You make my heart glow" Valentines.

Zach asleep on the couch (inaugurating the sleepy teen years?).

Lexi asleep on the floor during dinner (renewing the sleepy preschooler years?).

Gavin and Lexi asleep in their "nest" on my bedroom floor during Tyler's birthday party.

Kate asleep in the van (I hid in there with her for awhile).

I have a love/hate relationship with TV.  This is the "love" part.

I took this picture for our new time capsule. Let us remember the anomaly of Zach's clean bedroom.

Grocery receipt.  Gavin guessed our bill would be $108.07.

Laundry mishap.  Waa.

Zach's Court of Honor bling: Second Class and First Class ranks; Fingerprinting and Citizenship in the Community merit badges.

Ugliest double pie crust ever.  Haha.

I was part of a digital use study last fall and now the researchers are talking about me in webinars, apparently because I blog when I'm emotional.  Ha.

I'm selling a jacket. Ten bucks.  Anyone?

Ice cream with Valentine's Day gift cards. #dessertonmark

A blizzard-ish night when I took an hour-long walk outside (crazy? yes).

Beauty Salon by Gavin and Lexi.

1996 Mesa High yearbook snapshot.  Memories!

Last Friday's view from the treadmill.

Apparently my get-ready-in-20-minutes routine doesn't include enough foot lotion.

The end.

Using my brain

Just before I graduated from BYU, a professor (one of my favorites, actually) told me I was wasting my mind by choosing home and babies over graduate school and a career. While that judgment really hurt at the time, I don't care about his opinions anymore.  Sometimes I wonder about continuing my education, but that prospect seems highly incompatible with my life right now.

Anyway.

Some of my 2014 resolutions are in the "mental" category. Originally I had two (as I do in all of the other categories), which are to read 15 books aside from my scriptures, and to take an online class this year. My book goal may not seem lofty to some, but it is to me.  So the books below are on my nightstand right now.  I got through half of "I am Malala" before I had to return it to the library, but I plan to finish that, too, once I'm up on the waiting list again (currently #119).  I am open to suggestions on what else I might read this year.  Has a book changed your life or made your heart sing?  Tell me about it.

I have heard that BYU offers free online classes.  I'll also look into the community college here and see what jumps out at me...but maybe not until Fall Semester...when I have five kids in school!  (Can I get a resounding "hurrah!"?).  (That's a lot of punctuation all together.)

The last goal in my "mental" category is to pursue more activity on the piano.  I want to learn something hard (to me). And I want to keep tinkering with the newly-discovered composition side of my brain.  I have just finished a hymn arrangement that I like, and I have a couple other ideas in my head.

So maybe I'm not an associate professor or a career health scientist, but I'm trying to use my brain anyway. 

What I Did Right

When I look back at 2013, my natural instinct is to see all the ways I fell short.  I didn't do this and I meant to do that and I was a total failure in these 500 ways.  This is my knee-jerk life view: the glass is mostly empty, and I am just not good enough.

I was thinking about this as I vacuumed the floor at about 10:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve.  We had just watched a "family classic" Christmas movie that turned out to be really inappropriate, despite its PG rating, and I felt it had ruined the spirit of the evening.  I was mad at myself for sharing with the family a movie I had not screened, and then not turning it off when it wasn't a good thing to watch.  I was negligent in the first place and then a poor example to my kids.  Lame, lame, lame, lame.

But then a voice came into my head: It's OK. You haven't ruined your kids' lives.  You didn't even ruin the evening. They loved dinner and they loved the pillowcases you made for them, and they loved that you shared your precious Candy Cane Oreos with them, and they loved the Christmas songs you sang as you tucked them into bed.  I realized that despite my mistakes, I had also made some great choices, both that night and throughout the year.  I had done some things right.

With this perspective, I look back on this year and offer a list of 13 Things I Did Right in 2013.  It was really hard for me to come up with this list, but here it is for all the world my blog readers to see.  I know that in the future I will need a reminder of my successes this year.  So, in no particular order....

1. I completed (or will, in the next few days), a daily journal. I only wrote a sentence or two each day, but I already treasure the snapshot of my life.  I'm look forward to daily entries for the next four years, all in the same book.

2. I shared my love of the LDS Church with friends.  My testimony of Jesus Christ is something near and dear to me, and I always love the chance to share the joy I feel in the gospel.

3. I tried my best to be a good Young Women leader.  Despite some difficult setbacks in my own life, I think I was always "there" for my girls and my fellow leaders.  I learned a lot as a teacher and made some treasured friends.  I look back fondly on my year of service in that organization, and I miss my girls.

4. I advocated for myself in a number of ways.  It's so easy for me to just do what people tell me, especially medical professionals and people at church, but I am learning to set boundaries and be brave enough to quit or change something that just isn't working for me.  That's a skill set I hope to keep developing.

5.  I blogged a LOT.  I'm happy that I am keeping a good record of our family life, both the good and the not-so-good. I love the therapy that blogging gives me and the validation I get from all of you that I'm not alone in this crazy world.  And it helps me find humor in everyday situations.

6.  I nurtured my marriage.  Garry and I have been on more dates this year and attended the temple together more often than in years past, and finally took a trip together.  I tried to connect with him more and put his needs first.  I'm certainly not great at any of this, but effort counts for something.

7. I tried to make new friends.  Is it normal for this to be hard for someone my age?  Well, it is for me, but I worked on it a lot, and I am pleased to report some improvements.  I learned that friendships come and go, that some people just don't fit well together, and that it's usually not personal when someone else just walks away.

8. I wrote a song and arranged a couple of others.  I like experimenting with this new, creative part of my mind.

9. I completed full 72-hour kits for each member of my family.  It's time to update them again, but still...

10.  I did fun things for holidays and birthdays with my kids. I often refer to this as earning "cool mom points," but really it's more about making happy memories together.

11. I spent some of my time serving others, which is and always will be one of my favorite things.  I plan to make a tradition of doing random acts of kindness on my birthday.

12. I realized that my limitations don't have to define me.  I recently learned that someone I love has a heartache I know all too well.  I look at her and see how fantastic she is and all that she can be and do, despite her struggles.  That made me realize that when people say positive and encouraging things about me, they are true.

13. I read The Book of Mormon twice.  I listened to dozens of sessions of General Conference while I worked out at the Y. Feeding my soul with the good word of God is one of my top priorities, so it definitely needs to make this list.

...

In my favorite Calvin and Hobbes comic strip, Calvin complains to his father about being cold in the house one winter.  His dad explains the cost of running the furnace, which Calvin thoughtfully considers and accepts.  Then, as Calvin walks away, his father says, "...and being cold builds character."  Ha!  Of course there is always an uncomfortable lesson in every cold part of our lives.

I'd be mixing my metaphors to talk about under-performing furnaces and half-empty glasses, so I'll just end with this: Here's to a warm and full 2014!  

Self-reflection

Recently I participated in a two-week study on all things digital--my tools and devices and social networks--that I use on a daily basis.  Participating in this research made me much more mindful of the way that digital communication dominates my life.  Things like Facebook and Instagram and blogging and texting connect me to people in ways that feed my sense of belonging and help me be part of others' lives that isn't possible any other way.  For a long time I have justified my addiction to such things, but I am starting to re-examine my behavior.

Another thing that has been on my mind is my need for validation from my peers.  When I have a little experience or thought, whether frustrating or funny or strange or happy, my immediate impulse is to share it on Facebook, through my blog, or via text to a friend.  When I don't get a response, or don't get one that I am expecting or needing, I feel frustrated or hurt or even embarrassed for being vulnerable in such a way. Why is that?  Why do I feel such a need for feedback from friends and acquaintances through social media? What does that say about my confidence and self-worth?

And then there are the big experiences.  Sometimes I share too much and feel the sting of regret (my Oct. 31 post is the perfect example).  People just don't need to know about my mental status or when I lose my temper.  Some of the dark corners of my life are better left in the dark. I can be honest without over-sharing. I need to work on that.

I think this behavior and attitude extend into my non-digital life.  There have been many times in the last couple of years when I really wished someone would reach out to me on a bad day instead of me soliciting some form of help.  I have never understood why that hasn't happened in my hour of need.  Yesterday a friend who knows about those feelings told me that there is danger in such an expectation.  I tend to agree. Perhaps there are times to be alone instead of surrounded.  Perhaps there are times to be still and private instead of expressive and public.

At the moment I don't have answers to any of my questions, but I do think I will be stepping back at least a bit from my digital life.  I will continue with my blog, as I enjoy the family history it creates.  I feel a connection to my posterity, those who might learn something from my experience or at least get to know their ancestors--my little family--in a somewhat meaningful way.  But that exercise will be just for me.  If you want to join my journey, I'll enjoy your company.  You just might have to tell me in person that you're coming along for the ride.

I am enough

Some things I learn about myself the hard way.

Yesterday was just another day.  Got Zach to school at 7:00. Shoved Gavin out the door with Tyler at 8:00. Skipped a shower for myself (hat day isn't just for school spirit) and helped Lexi get ready.  She was too comfortable on the couch and steadfastly refused to put on her fantastic costume for the preschool Halloween party.  Kate was happy to costume herself and happily frogged to the car.  I finally gave up the battle and let Lexi wear a play dress-up, leotard, and boots.  She looked cute.  Yay.

I spent preschool time at the piano.  I've had a hymn humming through my brain and decided to write a women's arrangement out of it.  Kate played with a piano app on my phone.

Between feeding and monitoring her, the time flew and I was late picking up Lexi. We zipped home for lunch before ballet lessons, which also included a Halloween party.

After a quick banana and bowl of mac and cheese (for the girls--how do they like that stuff?) we were out the door.  I got the girls back in the car and ran back for my purse, keys, and sunglasses.  You might imagine what happened next.  No keys.

What you might not have imagined is the temper tantrum I had while looking for them.  A quick search became a frantic one as the minutes ticked by.  Lexi was going to be late.  I was an idiot...we'd only been home 25 minutes. I yelled (not mumbled) at myself as I retraced my steps and looked in awkward places. The self-deprecation spiraled down from there. After 30 minutes of searching it was clear that ballet lessons were not happening. I apologized to Lexi, who gave me a sweet hug through her tears because I was crying, too.

Kate and Lexi ran off to play, but I couldn't let it go.  This wasn't about the keys anymore.  I was a loser, a dumb mom who couldn't hold it together for 25 minutes. It's bad enough when I do something stupid that only affects me, like buying an ill-fitting pair of jeans at a store 45 minutes from my house.  But making Lexi miss a party and a dance lesson that she anticipated all week long? Who does that?  I kept yelling (not mumbling) at myself and finally put myself in time-out in my closet.  I paced in that tiny, crowded closet.  Feeling claustrophobic made me angrier--so much so that I kicked a hole in the wall.

Great.  Real mature, Heidi.

That little act of anger was a reality check.  I finally got a hold of my rational self.  I cried some more, this time out of shame and sorrow.  I am so frustrated that I can't be the kind of person and mother I want to be.  I am upset with myself for reacting badly to a very minor and normal stress of life. I am also a little mortified that I am sharing such things in a public format.

Here's why. No one is perfect.  I am trying to be my best self every single day, just as I imagine you try to be your best self every day.  I have physical and mental limitations I really don't like but those things don't have to be a detriment to my happiness, and they are not an excuse for my bad behavior. I need a better outlet for my emotions. Perhaps that should be my next project, because heaven knows stress comes my way rather often.

For example, around 4:00, while I was sitting at the piano again, Kate got into the nail polish.  She painted her toenails a pretty pink and purple.  The attendant casualties were her clothes, face, hair, and her bunny, plus my pillowcases, sheets, and duvet cover.  Apparently painting toenails is best done in Mommy's bed.

Well, I didn't throw a fit.  I calmly changed Kate's clothes, let her scream in her room for a while, and tried in vain to remove the stains from all that fabric. And later, when Gavin and Lexi found my keys ON THE HOOK WHERE THEY BELONG, I cried a little, composed myself, and then made dinner.

In the immediate wake of kicking the wall, I had confessed, via text, my bad deed to a friend. I knew she would validate and understand my situation.  She did, and later she jokingly suggested that I find some low-hanging art work to cover the damaged wall.  Instead, I have decided to leave it exposed and unrepaired.  I need a visual reminder that nothing is important enough to lose my temper. I am stronger than my emotions, and I can start again today at the impossible task of being my best self.

Brene' Brown is one of my favorite authors.  Through her books she has started a movement to embrace the gift of imperfection and vulnerability.  I need to remember these truths, so I am doing as she has recently done: remind myself that despite my weakness, I am enough.

Even when lost keys make my child miss a party.

Feast

Tonight I made Chicken Pillows for dinner.  They were tasty. Mmm...definitely a treat for this house. Garry also made an amazing cake for dessert.  Delish.

Our meal was symbolic of our weekend: a feast.  For ten hours of the last 48, we tuned in to LDS General Conference. I look forward to Conference every spring and every fall.  It always seems to come at a time when my stamina is waning and I need relief.  The messages this weekend didn't disappoint.  I feel uplifted and strengthened and encouraged.

For those who know me, it's no surprise that my favorite talk came from Jeffrey R. Holland.  I probably shouldn't have a favorite apostle, but he always seems to give the best messages.  This time, his shout-out to the mentally ill struck a chord in my heart.  I cried through the entire thing. I appreciated his honesty and his candor and his unwavering testimony that God loves people like me.  I remembered that I'm doing my best to read the scriptures and pray when it doesn't seem to make a difference in my day-to-day life, and that counts for something.

During my (only two) morning workouts this week, I listened (three times) to a talk that Elder Holland gave in the April 2011 General Conference: "An Ensign to the Nations."  I was struck by this passage:

"Perhaps you already know (but if you don't you should) that with rare exception, no man or woman who speaks here [at General Conference] is assigned a topic.  Each is to fast and pray, study and seek, start and stop and start again until he or she is confident that for this conference, at this time, his or hers is the topic the Lord wishes that speaker to present regardless of personal wishes or private preferences. ... Consider the variety of the messages that you hear--all the more miraculous with no coordination except the direction of heaven. ... In the wide variety of sermons given is the assumption that there will be something for everyone. ... If you listen to the spirit...some one of us will touch on your circumstance, sending a personal, little, prophetic epistle, just for you."  

It turns out that Elder Holland's talk from two years ago was just as helpful to me this week as it was back then, but it was made all the more poignant when his address yesterday was sent so personally to me.  I know I'm not the only person who wept during his remarks.  I know I'm not the only one whose tortured mind dictates so much of their existence.  Still, my soul lifted when Elder Holland said: "We are infinitely more than our limitations or our afflictions."  I am more than my illness.

There were many other Conference speakers who touched me.  Uchtdorf.  Ballard.  Dube. Oscarson.  So many.  But for me, Elder Holland was the icing on the cake...the best part.  

I've already listened to his talk a second time, and I look forward to listening to the entire conference again as I begin another week of early-morning exercise (I promise, I'm going to get up when my alarm rings).

After all, a feast wouldn't be a feast without second helpings.

Happy feet

Have you ever walked into a shoe store and found EXACTLY what you were looking for? Like exactly what you pictured in your head, and exactly how you wanted them to feel on your feet, and exactly the price you were willing to pay?  That happened to me today.

I have been looking for white sandals for months.  I have not made an intensive search or anything, but I usually walk through the shoe section of a store I happen to be visiting. Granted, Costco, Target, and Walmart aren't exactly shoe stores, and I don't usually find footwear at Dollar Tree or in a medical building, but white sandals have been on my radar since summer shoes hit the stores.

A pair of white sandals has been in my closet for a long time.  They are actually pretty cute, with flowers and sparkles and a cork insole, plus they are comfortable.  Why replace them?  Well, I'll tell you.  Every time I put them on--literally, every time--I think about being pregnant.  I wore these sandals during the long, hot, vomity summer before Kate was born.  They were one of two pairs that I could shove my fat feet into at the very end.  I got rid of the other pair long ago, but I held onto these because they are so cute.

Guess what?  They are not cute anymore.  They are not sentimental in a happy sort of way.  I suppose this is the PTSD talking, since I'm a little fixated on sandals being the trigger for mental unrest.  But today, when I walked into DSW and saw my new shoes twinkling on the shelf, I knew I was ready to say good-bye.

So good-bye, silly sandals.  We've walked a lot of miles together.  May we both rest in peace.

I'm glad I was born

It's my birthday.

I haven't been a huge fan of birthdays in the recent years, but I tried to change my attitude this time.  Luckily I have inspiring friends who, without knowing it, helped me along.  Last year one said that on her birthday she tried to make people glad she was born.  Another did 39 acts of kindness for her 39th birthday.  Don't I have cool friends?  I decided to copy them, and the plan made for a great week.

Last Monday I set out to do 34 random acts of kindness for my 34th birthday.  Some were super simple, like holding open a door or offering a compliment or writing love notes on the bathroom mirrors. Others were a little more involved, like writing letters to a teacher and a friend, and mailing a care package to a dear one far away.  I donated to the Young Women garage sale, left a big tip at a restaurant, took the kids to McDonald's, and contributed a little more than usual to my church.  My kids loved the day they came home to neatly made beds and no chores to do.  My favorite acts of kindness were the most random: taping a $5 gift card on a gas pump, leaving encouraging notes on windshields of cars at the Y at 6:00 a.m., and tucking $1 bills in bins in the dollar spot at Target.  I hope that at least 34 people walked away smiling after receiving a random act of kindness.  I know I sure did.  I think I'll celebrate this way every year.

I was truly touched by friends who remembered and celebrated my birthday with me.  A temple trip, a dinner out, and dessert and shopping with friends were all delightful.  My family spoiled me, and I got awesome cards from my kids.  I am definitely glad I was born.  I'm a lucky girl.

Where I've been

I'm not sure when or how my life became so full. It seems like just yesterday that I was jogging around Beaverton with a friend, who had three children at the time, and listening to her talk about her hectic, noisy household.  Since I only had a small Zach in my care, her comments were incomprehensible to me.  A loud house? No time to vacuum? Always in the car? What?

Well, I get it now.  Ten years later, I am either running or I am asleep.  I don't spend as much time running for exercise as I would like (I have an issue with my knee right now), but it seems I am always in a hurry.  Our morning school schedule is crazy.  Then it often happens that I am out all morning, between taking Zach from middle to elementary school, dropping off Lexi for preschool, running errands, visiting teaching (for which I must find childcare), attending church meetings, or going to a medical appointment or shopping or serving of some sort.  Then it's preschool pickup time, or home to receive Gavin after preschool, and then lunch and a little cleaning or more errands before nap time.

I can't decide if I'll be sad or glad when Kate gives up napping.  Of course I love the break each afternoon, and she certainly needs the sleep.  But instead or relaxing myself, or spending the time engaged in a project or studying for a lesson, or working on Young Women stuff, or blogging, for heaven's sake, I am mostly just trying to keep Gavin and Lexi quiet enough that they don't wake up Kate!  While I do enjoy playing with them, I think they are plenty old enough to entertain themselves quietly for 90 minutes.  They think otherwise.  Sometimes during nap time I collapse on the couch or in my bed because I'm just.so.tired.  Getting up early to exercise takes its toll in the sleep department.  I absolutely love--and need--to have my gym time each morning.  I don't feel complete without it, especially because that is often my scripture/Conference/study time for the day, and my days are invariably better when I take the time to exercise my lungs and my mind and my soul before jumping into the day at home.  But I'm really tired.  And whenever I nap, I wake up to some kind of mess or trauma.  I usually regret napping, even on days when I am desperate for sleep.

After school there is homework and piano practice and a few chores for the kids.  On Wednesday Lexi takes ballet lessons.  On Thursdays Tyler takes art lessons.  At least every couple of weeks I make sure to fit in the boys' piano lessons (I know, I know...it should be more often).  One Thursday evening our family had four places to be at the exact same time. We picked two. Until last week, Tyler and Zach had basketball practice in the evening. We just finished basketball season, and I am relieved.  Garry is probably more relieved than I am, since he largely handled Saturday morning games.  I participate in a church choir that is preparing a beautiful choral/instrumental program for Easter weekend (you should come!).  Practices are from 9-11 on Saturday mornings, and while it has been a sacrifice for all of my family members, that is sacred time for me.  I love it and I need it, and I will really miss it when it's over in a couple of weeks. Then it will be soccer season.

Tuesday afternoons/evenings are especially intense with Cub/Boy Scouts and mutual (youth group) for me.  I am responsible, with the help of my youth class presidency, for planning and executing activities for my girls each week.  During the last six weeks, my group has been in charge of activities for the other young women and sometimes young men, as well. I absolutely love being a youth leader (my girls are the BEST!) but it is a time-intensive responsibility. For three or four days a month, creating the ward newsletter is a busy thing, too.

And then there are Sundays. Sundays are supposed to be days of rest, right?  Hahahahahaha....!  Last week, I had a meeting at 7:00 a.m., followed by three hours of church, followed by a song practice.  During church, Garry was home with a sick Kate, and Gavin did this for about 90 minutes:

Awesome.  I love belonging to and serving for my church, but the lifestyle sure is busy.

Of course my mind is often occupied with the needs and concerns of my children.  Zach is firmly entrenched in the tween years, where he is opposed to bathing and deodorant but obsessed with his hair and his clothes.  I worry a lot about his friends at school, his resistance to church attendance, and his general defiance and attitude.  He is getting old enough to stay home with the rest of the kids for short stretches of time (longer if I take one of the Littles or if Kate is napping), so that shows some responsibility and maturity that I like to see.  He loves Boy Scouts and works hard (and has fun) at the weekly meetings.  Tyler is generally happy, he loves the privacy and freedom of having his own bedroom, really likes school, and has a best friend in our ward who I love.  He is thriving on the piano (and would even more if I was a better teacher).  But he has severe Little Brother Syndrome, picks fights with siblings for no reason, and generally craves more attention than I can give him.  I often worry about his emotional well-being.  Gavin is always a concern.  Is he watching too much TV?  Getting enough cuddle/love/attention time?  Are his fine motor skills falling behind?  Is his place as the middle child the source of his craziness?  Will he EVER stop sneaking food and leaving a mess behind him?  Lexi has started crying/clinging when she goes to preschool, a friend's house, the YMCA, and her Primary class.  What is that about?  How can I help?  Should I give in to her emotional manipulation? Her eczema is getting out of control again, and she's had a crazy rash and bouts of hives again this week.  She also had two bad ear infections recently.  We are all tired of medicine around here.  Kate is equal parts charming and exasperating.  She climbs on EVERYTHING.  She gets into EVERYTHING.  She never, ever sits still.  But I love seeing her curiosity and her energy.  She is starting to talk a little more ("no" and "mine" are now prominent words), and that is lots of fun.  She's a major Daddy's girl.  That's cute...and hard.

So of course the kids are a big source of my busy life.  Sometimes I struggle to pause and savor the moment.  I have a running joke with a friend about losing my keys.  Whenever they are missing, I send her a text about it.  She guesses where they will turn up, and then I report the hiding place.  During the latest episode she offered some advice: SLOW DOWN. Yeah, I know! I did take the little kids to the park the other day and captured one moment in time that made me really happy.  Doesn't she look like bliss personified?

Garry is the workhorse of the family.  He does everything--working and cooking and clean-up and bedtime and playing and grocery shopping and the finances and all things IT for our household (and sometimes our friends).  I really don't know what I'd do without him, which is why my recurring dream that I'll be a young widow is freaking me out.

I am mostly doing better in the mental health department.  It's a nice change for everyone!  I'm figuring out what I like and who I like and how to be a friend and a mom and a wife again and how to balance my responsibilities.  I know that my challenges are not unique. Everyone is busy with their own stuff, and everyone experiences heartache, and everyone has good days and bad days, and most members of my church feel the same joys and stresses I do related to their testimonies and callings.  It's all good.  I love my life and my family and where we live and what I'm doing.  It's just BUSY.  And I need new glasses. I might get some red ones. Aren't theses picture funny?

So my house is a mess and my laundry is never done and I eat too much chocolate and I don't follow up on all the good thoughts I have and feel perpetually behind in everything I do.  I rarely blog anymore, and that makes me sad for a number of reasons.  I miss it, and I miss you, my online friends.  So here I am, saying hello.  I'm not sure when I'll be back, but I'll be thinking of you.  And my to-do list.

Talk to me

A picture of my sleeping baby--the only time she ever holds still.

Confession: I don't want Kate to give up her binky.

At her 15-month check-up in November, Kate's doctor expressed some concern that Kate wasn't talking.  At that point, she had four words in her vocabulary: mama, dada, hi, and uh-oh.  I attributed that completely to Kate's pacifier use.  (I know, I know...)  Dr. Yochim urged me to help Kate ditch the binky, at least during the day.

Turns out I'm as dependent on the pacifier as Kate.  It's such a wonderful soothing tool. Combined with Bunny Hopscotch, it's a mini-miracle.  Kate giggles when she gets her favorite loveys, and she'll melt into my chest and we can just sit on the couch and BE.  I love it.  Of course I worry that my method of soothing her will translate into an emotional eating habit later in life.  That's something to face another day, right?

Anyway.

I have tried valiantly to limit the pacifier's presence in our daily life, and, as expected, Kate's vocabulary has blossomed.  We are working on signs as well as words, and it's amazing how a little communication has impacted our household for good.

We're starting with the basic signs: drink, milk, help, please, and thank you.  Kate is pretty consistent with those signs, especially if I prompt her.  But she also has some new words that we love: hello (ey-yo), apple, Daddy, help (hup, combined with the sign), shoes, coat, and yeah.  Kate has developed very vigorous and deliberate head shakes for yes and no. She is definitely good at asserting her opinion, and she is thrilled when we understand her communication!

"Uh-oh" is also working in our favor.  Kate always says that in response to dropping something on the floor, but she also knows that hearing it when she is doing something naughty (usually climbing), she needs to cease and desist.  Sometimes when we say "uh-oh" as she sits in front of my computer, she will set her head down on her forearms and cry.  I personally love it when Kate approaches something she knows is forbidden and says "uh-oh" herself.  I guess our Love and Logic training is beginning to work!  However, Kate is developing a few tantrum tactics, as well as what I term the "wet-noodle resistance move."  This girl is a little spitfire and prone to dramatics.  She is definitely my daughter.

Kate loves her play kitchen.  She is also interested in the doll house, baby dolls, our various musical toys, her play tent, books, and the piano.  She dances to all sorts of music.  Kate is our best putterer.  She can entertain herself for long stretches, although she loves to be close to me and participate in whatever I am doing.  I think the next words I'll teach her are "sweeping," "laundry," and "dishes."  If I could get my house under control, then maybe I--ahem, she--wouldn't need a binky.