There Is Sunshine In My Soul

Fall is coming. When I stepped outside this morning, the air felt fresh and new on my skin. The sun lit up the leaves in that slanted, pretty way that it seems to save for spring and autumn. The rows of clouds with their blinding white back-lit edges practically danced in the sky. Fall is coming.

On our way to church, Patrick and I drank in the morning. We talked about Virginia, because for some reason, whenever we see days like this, Virginia comes to mind. We miss those mountains terribly. When we moved, we both left a small piece of ourselves waiting there; someday, we’ll return.

As the months keep marching toward cooler weather, my little boy keeps growing. I’m beginning to learn who he is, now. He is watchful and observant, like his sister was, but he’s much quicker to break into a smile. I think of all the crying that poor boy has done in these three months—it lifts my spirit a bit to know that that’s not who he is. If I had to describe him in a word, it would be happy.

Oh, his smile. It’s an amazing smile, one of pure joy, not of jokes or simple amusement. It’s “Mommy, Daddy, I see you looking at me and that makes me happy. Cambrie, I hear you laughing and talking and singing to me and that makes me happy.”

This is the part of being a mom that fills up my soul just like the fall-morning sun, air, and leaves do. It’s lying in bed with my tiny baby, trying to get to sleep after a nighttime feeding, feeling his warm body in the crook of my arm and seeing his still, quiet eyes watching mine. All I can think, all I want, is for this little one to feel arms around him, to see my face and feel safety and love.

It’s sitting on the porch, my son in my lap and my daughter next to me, singing songs to the rustle of the leaves and the creak of the porch swing. All I can think, all I want, is for her to feel the joy of music, to know that her mommy loves to hear her voice and thinks her jokes and tricks and discoveries are amazing.

What a wonderful thing, in the middle of something as tiring and demanding and consuming and hard as motherhood, to remember that this is why. It's not about me. It's all for these two little people who need love and security and nourishment to grow up and take on the world to change it for the better. Now is my time to give, not take. I don't always remember that, but when I do, all the other stresses and pressures settle into a quiet sense of perspective.

Mid September, with its promise of cooler weather, new school semesters, and upcoming holidays, has always felt like a beginning to me rather than the beginning of the end. I'm so glad to have this fresh beginning again, this time with two little ones to watch learn and grow instead of one.

Fall is coming. Babies are growing. Mommy is learning. Life is good.

Three New Things

We all like lists. Lists are quick. Lists are easy. Well, here I have listed three things that are new.

Thing One: a new way to entertain a three-year-old who loves to help bake.

Once she had her own she didn't care as much about helping me with the pancakes I was making.

Yet another way almonds add joy to our lives.

A tired little girl basking in her happy, three-year-old messiness.

Thing Two: a new angle at which to admire little James in the viewfinder.

Check out that hair! Oh, and does he look like someone to you?...

Poor girl. Baby Cambrie looks a lot more bald when compared to toddler Cambrie and baby James.

...oh, and have I mentioned how cute my kids are? *mommy-happiness*

Thing Three: a new way to entertain a stir-crazy mommy desperate for some form of artistic expression to brighten up the daily grind.

Oh yes I did.

You can see Mr. Octopus, a school of carrot fish, a squinty-eyed crab, and a number of pathetic-excuses-for-cucumber-starfish. Unfortunately, for lack of green food coloring, the ramen seaweed was lost.

Until my next captivating list of random things, I wish you all a merry September and a happy new-school-year.

I Have a Question

"Mommy. Mommy!"

"What babe?"

"I hava quish...qu... ques-shtun for you."

That is a recent phrase for her. She must have discovered it's a good way to get our attention, but I don't think she realizes what it means. The habit she has of trying several times to get a difficult word right, however, is commonplace nowadays. I love to hear the syllables coming together, correctly, in her tiny mouth.

"Okay, babe. What's your question?"

Cambrie is sitting on a stool, leaning against the counter while I wash dishes. She's playing absentmindedly with this and that while we talk. "...Mommy?"

"What, babe?"

"A-Culios Geoge build a igloo ina house. A man a yellow hat sleeping a night."

"Yes, when the man in the yellow hat was sleeping, Curious George built an igloo inside the house. I remember that. Wasn't that silly?"

"Yes, was silly."

[small pause]

"Mommy, a-hava ques-shtun."

"Oh? What would you like to ask me?"

She pauses again, so I decide to help her out. "Hey, do you know what a question is? A question is when you ask somebody something. A question is something like, 'Do you like carrots?' or 'How far away is Christmas?' or 'Why is the sky blue?' "

"Oh." Another pause. "Mommy?"

"Yes, babe?"

A mischievous grin spreads across her face. "Why is the sky blue?"

Now I pause. I should have seen it coming. This is what I get for trying to be helpful. She repeats, this time her voice escalating into pure, two-year-old joy. "Why is the sky," big breath, then a huge exclamation, "BLUE!"

Oh boy. "The sky is blue because Heavenly Father made it that way."

Really? Is that the best I could come up with? I mean, sure, it's true, but even she is bored by my answer, barely acknowledging it. How is my daughter ever going to trust me to answer her big questions if I keep blowing the small ones off with the easy-road answers?

I try again.

"Hey, Cambrie, do you want to know why the sky is blue?"

"Uh huh."

"Okay, do you remember watching Sid the Science Kid when they learned about rainbows?"

"Uh huh."

"Okay, well remember how they got the rainbows by shining the light through crystals? Well waaaaay up in the sky there are lots of little water crystals, and when the light from the sun shines through the water crystals, it gives a blue color. So it makes the whole sky look blue."

Did I really just say all that to my two-year-old?

Yet another pause. I can't blame her, this time. Finally, ... "Oh."

I wait for more reaction, but as she starts playing again with whatever papers or tupperware or cups are sitting near her on the counter, I go back to scrubbing my pot. Well, for better or worse, that exchange is over. I'll be lucky if she remembers more than my reference to "Sid the Science Kid," but at least my mommy conscience is assuaged.

From the counter, though, comes that little voice. "Mommy?"

"What, babe?"

There's that little grin, again. It spreads slowly, the way it does when she knows what she's saying will get a reaction. My guess is this time, she's aiming for mommy's "flustered" reaction. "...Mommy, why is the sky blue? Blue! Why the sky BLUE!"

On she goes. By tomorrow, that phrase will be turned into a song she sings while she pushes her water-bottle-baby-brother around in her plastic shopping cart.

Well, I think it's safe to say my mommy conscience is no longer bothered. In fact, I think I've earned myself a good two more years of easy-road answers. Goodbye grammatical and scientific expositions, and hello "Because it is," and "Because I said so."

In the meantime, I'll just enjoy my little girl's musical compositions without saying a word.

This is Cambrie playing her "trumpet." Maybe she'll write in a trumpet part to "Why Is the Sky Blue?"

Straightening Up

Patrick and I currently live what I am generously calling a scattered lifestyle. It's a little bit of disorganization here, a little bit of clutter there, and a whole lot of great ideas that, while inspiring in the idea stage, get lost somewhere in the initiation and follow-through stages. I guess our redeeming quality is that we are constantly making little efforts at self-improvement, with...uh...varying degrees of success.

Today I get to share a few of our successes.

We'll start with Patrick. As he continues his recently revved-up search for what we are labelling a "legit" job, he's been struggling to come up with a system to track his efforts: people to contact, people and jobs to follow up with, and concrete outcomes he's seen. The last thing we want is for a good opportunity to fall through the cracks, and that, of course, requires (drumroll please...) organization!

Here's what the hubby came up with:



These are three of those four-to-a-pack little cork boards.



They're flimsy, so they're attached with screws to a scrap board found in the garage.

 I've got to give Patrick credit for this whole thing--all I did was ask that the horrible scrap-wood backing be invisible. The screws added a nice, rugged, manly look that I'm fine with, too. Mostly because I can't see the wood backing.

Here's his mini-project in action:



Who ever uses those encyclopedias, anyways? Okay, okay, so we were short on wall space...




One of the sections. Don't mind the pink push-pin. We're cheap, and he'll use what we already have. :-)

 This has been working great, so far, and it's a lot easier for him to stay motivated when he's got a list of opportunities in front of him. Even dead-end applications (our euphamism for rejections) are good, because they mean he's moving through the numbers. And, as we are often reminded, this sort of job hunting is basically a numbers game.


My own little success earns bonus points with me, because it's an idea that originated on Pinterest (you can see my board, here). For my fellow pinners, you understand that the joy of using an idea from Pinterest is not a pure one that comes from pleasant and creative idea-sharing with a worldwide community of friends. Oh, no. The joy comes from being able to validate hours of time wasted on that site to my husband. ("See!! See!! I used another Pinterest idea! Now you can't say anything when you see me on there!!")

So here is the fancy version:

original image source

Isn't that beautiful? Isn't it sleek, and functional, and eveything else just plain nice? Unfortunately, I know that if I'm going to get something done, I can't wait for cute, pretty, or nice if I have hope of getting it out of the "that's a nice idea" stage into reality.

Here's my 30 second sharpie version:

Laugh if you like, but this has been the most pleasant and motivating way for me to get the house clean. I've got everything in there in small, bite-size chunks, so that by the time I've gotten through them all, our place is spotless. If I only have a few minutes, that's fine. I pop through one or two slips of paper, and I know I've gotten something concrete and productive done.

An added bonus? Cambrie LOVES these cups. She loves to pick the paper out and have us read it, and then she rushes to help us do what it says. Yesterday we pulled "Vacuum the bathroom rugs." She couldn't wait to help me pull the rugs into the hallway, get out the vacuum cleaner and vacuum, pull the rugs back, then pick a new paper. Perhaps it helps that I snuck tasks like this into the cups:

She's got somewhere around a three in twenty-five chance of pulling out something fun, and that's enough to keep her better motivated that anything else we've tried. Let's put a little point up there on mommy's side of the board, shall we?

So my plan is this: if Patrick and I keep making little adjustments like this over the next twenty-five years of our lives, then by the time our kids are out of the house, we'll be perfect specimens of happy, productive, organized human beings. Right? Right? Well, that's what I tell myself. After all, I've never yet thought perfect was too high a goal to shoot for, as long as I've got the right time frame.    ;-)

Telling Stories

My life has been filled with stories, lately. Stories about families and holidays, stories with friends in them, stories we tell Cambrie, and, most definitely, stories to tell you. The problem is that, whereas sometimes the stories set up camp in my mind, words and descriptions floating around and demanding to be written down, many many other times they just slip quietly in and out of my life. During those quieter, less demanding times, it takes a little more discipline for me to sit down and commit a story to words.

But discipline myself I shall. And today’s story will be about nothing less than stories themselves. Let me illustrate…

“What do you want your story to be about, today?”

“Cambrie an’ baby Evelyn! And Nana’s house!”

“Okay. Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Cambrie. One summer she went to go visit her Nana in Utah, and at her house was little baby Evelyn…”

It started over Thanksgiving. While Patrick was trying to get Cambrie to sleep in my dad's house and a new bed one night, he decided to try telling her some stories instead of reading her a book. Since that moment, book reading immediately before naps and bedtime has all but disappeared. Cambrie will ask us to “read her a story” constantly—in the car, sitting at the table, while I’m folding laundry, and of course in bed.

I don't have pictures of us telling stories, but plenty of Cambrie, us, and books.

Since Patrick and I have slight limits on spur-of-the-moment storytelling, we usually ask Cambrie for some sort of guide… “What do you want this story to be about?”

Here’s a sampling of what we're given to work with:

“Cambrie climb a-apple tree!”

“Goggy…doggies. A-story ‘bout doggies!” (Oh yes, it is heart wrenching that she’s already correcting her little baby words into grown-up words!”)

“Cambrie an’ Pincess!”

“Bob.” (??? This is usually followed by, “What? You mean ‘ball’?” “Nope.” “Umm, ba.. ba..bowl? Like the soup you had for lunch?” “No. Bob.” Patrick’s method is then to tell something like the Three Billy Goats Gruff and say one of the goats is Bob. *shrug* It works.)

“Cambrie an’ mommy a go to store, an’ daddy a go to store, too, an’ a go to libee! [library]”

“Uncuh Andy an’ Aunt Leeanne an’ a-Yumi a-baby Melody a-Dampa Cottle a Kisten at a-Dampa Cottle’s house!!”

“Farm. An’ cows.”

“A big kitty an’ small kitty an’ mommy kitty an’ daddy kitty.”

“Honey. An’ Bob.” (That one became Bob the Bumblebee.)

And my all-time favorite: [Leaning over toward me, poking her finger at my forehead] “That!!” “…my, forehead?” “Uh-huh.” Oh boy.

Little Critter books are high literature. Our stories have a lot to live up to.

There are actually many advantages to the storytelling. After a while, books like “Go, Dog, Go” and “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish” begin to wear on mommy and daddy. Telling stories does require brainpower, but a kind of very silly, very low-pressure brain power that probably needs a little more exercise anyways. The variety is great, and the stories are apparently something both mommy and daddy can tell satisfactorily.

It’s also nice to tell stories about “a little girl named Cambrie” doing all the things we want her to do, like sharing, and saying “Okay Mommy” or “Okay Daddy” when she’s asked to do something, and trying new and difficult things over and over again, and being brave when things are sad or scary.

But the best part is the listener. I’ve never been able to keep Cambrie's attention as closely as when I’m telling a story. It baffles me, too, because there are no pictures, no rhymes, and hardly any plot to speak of. And still, we’ll both be lying in her bed, and there she’ll be, snuggled on her pillow, blanket pressed against her cheek, big eyes staring steadily at me and taking every word in. She hardly ever interrupts, and at the end of every story, her face will brighten up and she’ll say, “Read other story, mommy!” And so I’ll tell another, about playing with monkeys in the trees, or soaring through the clouds on flying horses, or a little dog family on a picnic in the woods, or a princess finding a giant tree with a staircase to the sky.

This is our little girl, and it won’t be much longer that she’ll be drinking in every word we say without question or disdain. I hope she remembers the stories, though, and how we loved to tell them. And I hope I never stop trying to share my words and stories with her.

A Crash Course in Labor and Delivery

My younger sister is due with her very first baby any day now. I wanted to do something to help her out--a break from the know-it-all, stuffy, medically-oriented books that all new moms read over at least three times before their baby's due date. So though I haven't recently given birth, I decided to pick the brains of my friends who have.

Thanks to my dear friends Sarah and Hillary (and little bits from me, here and there), here's a rundown of the labor and delivery experience from other first-time moms who had no idea what they were doing, either.

Labor and Delivery

Preparing for my induction. Well, as much as you can prepare, anyways.

What was the best part?

Sarah, whose little Ana was born February 4th, 2011, said, "The very best part of having a baby is the baby part. I was overjoyed the moment I saw my beautiful little girl. All at once she seemed both far too big to have ever fit inside me and far too tiny to be outside in the world. Her puffy, red face was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. My name instantly became Mommy. I’ve never felt anything so profound."

Hillary had little Zoie on September 26th, 2010. She continues to blog about her little girl and her family adventures. She said, "The best part for me would probably be right after she came out. I had a feeling of relief and when I saw Zoie, I saw a piece of heaven! Amazing feeling and probably the best way I (we moms) can get to feel the power of Christ's atonement."

What was the hardest part?

Sarah recalled, "My husband had to leave during the epidural. Not having him there to hold my hand through the contractions was definitely the hardest part. I had three very intense contractions before the needle was in. They were such vulnerable moments for me. It seemed too much to have to share with a stranger. Having my husband’s hand in mine would have made those moments much easier."

Hillary said the hardest part for her was "getting myself to relax. I struggled with that so much that I wasn’t able to dialate, so I spent 2 days with hard core contractions. So do your best to relax."

My baby, minutes after birth. Proof that babies can be
quite scary-looking and super-precious at the same time.

What do you wish you had known beforehand?

Sarah wished she "had known that the staff would keep the baby in the nursery until her temperature was stable. After they took her to the nursery to clean her up they put a diaper on her and laid her in a bassinette without blankets or clothing. She lay there for almost four hours before I saw her again, which was far too long! The nurse told me she still wasn’t holding her temperature well, but I just told her to bring me my baby anyway. I was her mother and if she was cold I would just hold her and warm her up. I wish I had said so sooner."

Hillary said, "This is silly but I wish I knew that I could have showered and cleaned myself up after delivering. I also wish I knew I could have put Zoie in her own clothes."

What do you wish you had done differently?

From Sarah: "I wish I hadn’t laid on my right side to watch the machine that recorded my contractions. The anesthetic drained into the right side of my body, and left the other side clear to feel the contractions."

And Hillary added: "I wish I would have brought some food for me to snack on in between the meals you get from the hospital. I also wish I would have taken the nurses up on their offer to keep Zoie in the nursery one night so I could get some sleep. I know as a new mom you want to keep your baby with you by your side at all times, but trust me--you would love and enjoy a night of sleep to relax your body from all the contractions, pushing, and all the other difficult and hard things it went through. Oh, and I wish I took more pictures after she was born--especially with me."

Sweet sweet baby Cambrie.

What are you very glad you did?

Sarah said, "I am very glad I got an epidural. I asked the anesthesiologist to give me a lower dose right from the start. That way I could still feel the contractions, so I knew when they were happening and for how long, but they felt more like cramps than unbearable pain. Having it made the entire experience much more pleasant. I had time to talk with my husband and just enjoy the anticipation without the interruption and pain of contractions.

"I’m also extremely grateful that we had a video camera. I had my husband film the birth, we strict instructions to record only from my shoulders up. Now we can look back and see the expression on my face the moment I saw our daughter come into the world."

Hillary had a very different experience: "I am very glad that I was able to do an all natural birth. It sounds scary, but I found that it made me a stronger woman."

I (Stephanie) would like to add here that for Cambrie's, birth, I was hoping to do it naturally. I wanted that experience of feeling I could do it on my own, and I was terrified of that awful needle. However, because of the super-long induction (and all the Pitocin and other drugs they used to coax my little on into this world), I ended up opting for an epidural. I still hope I can try for a natural birth in the future, but oh my goodness that epidural was 100% a gift from heaven. Seriously, I could hear the angels singing as the drug kicked in. :-)

What product or trick was super useful?

Sarah, whom I can attest is neither silly nor vain, said, "This is silly and vain, but the best product I used during labor was my makeup kit. I knew there were going to be pictures and I knew I would want to look at them in the future, and I didn’t want them to be too awful. Starting out with well-done makeup made me feel like I was prepared and had things under control. Besides, next to your wedding day, this is one of the happiest days of your life. Why wouldn’t you dress for the occasion?"

Hillary shared: "Doing yoga was very useful in delivery. Also, when you push use your abs and not your back. It’ll make pushing eaiser, quicker, and longer."

Thanks so much to Sarah and Hillary for their awesome advice! I know everyone's experiences are so different, but sometimes hearing these different stories helps prep us for our own impending visit to Labor and Delivery. Good luck, sister dear! We hope you get to meet your little girl soon!

Bitty Snores and Other Baby Blips

This past week, Cambrie had a small cold. It wasn't anything dire, but it was enough to give her a sore throat, a stuffy nose, and a few miserable nights of sleep. One evening, after she'd been in bed for a few hours, she cried out. It sounded sadder than usual, so Patrick and I went in to try to comfort her. By the time we'd gotten in the room, however, she'd already fallen back asleep. We watched her breathe a few heavy, congested breaths, when we heard it.

Our beautiful, tiny, precious, sick baby, did the cutest snore.

I don't mean a wispy, half snore. This was a real snore with strength and a firm tone; if she'd been playing a trumpet, I'd compliment her breathing and her embouchre. As ridiculous as it sounds, it made my heart melt. 

It was like the very first time your one-month old baby lets out a fart in the middle of a prayer in church. You know you're supposed to be embarrassed, but you can't help thinking to yourself, "That was so freakin' cute! That's my cute baby!" And then you sneakily look around to make sure everyone else is acknowledging how cute your baby's fart was, too.

Thanks to this little episode, I've been much more in tune to the little things Cambrie's been doing that makes being a mom so worthwhile. Here are a few of the things I've noticed.

Cambrie and Mommy playing under a blanket

She's very good at closing doors and putting things away. That includes taking one of Daddy's dirty socks, placing it in a drawer of clean clothes, and shutting the drawer.

 When Cambrie finds herself outside without her shoes on, she'll always pause in a half-concerned way then start to walk toward whatever rock, ball, or toy has caught her eye with tiny tip-toe steps. Sometimes she'll even run on her tip-toes, just because she doesn't have shoes.

My little twenty-month-old is finally getting a little curl. The other day, we went outside and I realized that she has enough (very fine) hair to get frizzy in the humidity! That's a milestone for the baby book...

It's there! I promise! A curl right in the middle of her head!

Cambrie loves to bounce on the very edge of her bed while holding onto the foot board. The other night, though, she threw me for a loop. She took her time getting all positioned and ready to bounce, then looked up at me with the sweetest smile and patted the bed next to her--she wanted me to bounce with her. *heart squeeze*

This morning when I went in to get Cambrie up, she immediately clambered up from the blanket she was playing with and pulled her self onto her early-morning-unsteady legs. Once she was up, with no good morning babbles or smiles, she lifted one foot in the air and demanded, "Shooos!"  "But Cambrie, you still have your pajamas on; why do you need shoes?" Her response, first thing in the morning? "Aoo-sai!" ["outside"--it's an obsession of hers].

Thanks, Cambrie, for being so darn cute! I will treasure these moments away against the tempers and tantrums of the upcoming terrible twos...

Stopping and Watching

This is my favorite part of being a mom.

Like all parents, I usually find myself caught up in the day-to-day, rushing, planning, cleaning, cooking, nose-wiping, tantrum-ignoring, and so on. My eyes are on the clock. Time for lunch? Time for nap? Is she up already? Time to make dinner? What time is it? Can I count down to bedtime yet?

But I love it when I can take the time to just stop. And I watch. New questions, like tiptoes, quietly cross my mind.

What is she thinking? What does she see? What is she tucking away in her mind about how the world works? What will she do with that rock/stick/leaf/book/toy? What is it to her? What is she thinking? What does she see?

Cambrie loves to touch things. I'm a toucher, too. I'm the person who has to touch all the interesting fabrics on the clothes racks while browsing and who likes to walk barefoot outside just to feel the concrete or grass on my feet. I love to picture Cambrie storing away these textures and feelings as she explores: Rocks are cool and rough, sticks are bumpy and light, last year's leaves are papery and crumbly.

I love to wonder as I watch her. For instance, this one afternoon we were outside, she went to every ledge she could find, turned away from it, slowly backed into it, sat down, smiled a little, then jumped back up and kept exploring. Why, I wonder?

She reminds me that I, too, love to watch and explore--something that's getting harder and harder to remember. It's refreshing to see the world with such new eyes. I start to find pictures like these cropping up on my camera, simply because something made me stop, look, and smile, and I don't want to forget what I saw. (Though I hate that it makes me think unromantic, materialistic thoughts like "I wish I had a better camera.")

I hope that even as my little girl grows and learns more things to fill her mind and occupy her time, she still manages to keep that curiosity and wonder for the world around her. In the meantime I'll just keep stopping and watching...

She's so tiny in the larger picture! So small!

...watching her, that tiny little human being, forging her way in this vast, beautiful, complicated world.

On Feeding Oneself

For breakfast every morning, Cambrie usually has one of two meals--scrambled eggs, or oatmeal. Months ago I discovered that eggs had a distinct advantage. Once cool enough, they are the perfect texture and shape for her to stab with a little toddler-fork and successfully transfer to her mouth. I can leave her in the high chair, wish her luck, and go about the kitchen making my own breakfast, eating it, and cleaning up.

Oatmeal used to be just as easy, with the exception that I would feed it to her. I felt so motherly, gathering up a yummy, nutritious breakfast for the two of us, setting our little corner of the table, tucking the bib around her soft, cute neck, then encouraging her to fold her arms and bow her head as we said a short blessing on the food.

After we were both ready, I would feed her small bites of that oatmeal she'd been waiting for all morning. She would jibber jabber lovingly with me, I would look adoringly at her, and, every now and then, I would sneak her a bite of my cereal, because I was a cool mom. Ahhhh, those perfect moments.

Then. Then, the independence kicked in.

A few mornings ago, she had oatmeal again for breakfast. Once everything was ready, I scooped up a baby bite of oatmeal, tested its temperature on my lips, and held it out winsomely for the wee one to eat.

"Ah bih-boh!" She swung her hands demandingly at the spoon.

"Okay, okay, I gotcha. Here. Eat it." I handed the spoon to her which, like someone shoveling coal into an engine, she hurtled into her mouth. Great! Success.

"Kay, babe, I'll get you some more." I held my hand out for the spoon to reload it for her.

"AAaa! Uh buhba bah." Her yell of protest was followed by a very definitive point to her tray. No, Mommy. Put the plate RIGHT HERE.

*Sigh* I'm in for it now. Whatever. Fine.

"Here you go. Please eat it with your spoon."

Cheerfully she complied. While I stood up to fix a bowl of cereal for myself, her not-as-chubby-as-they-used-to-be hands brought a decent number of bites to the general area around her mouth. But by the time I started back to the table, things started to change.

The spoon was tilted funny. The oatmeal wouldn't quite stick. It was yummy, and she wanted it, but it wasn't making it into her tummy. Her ingenious solution? Yes. Fingers. Never really thought of oatmeal as a finger food until Cambrie.

And now I was left with the same trivial battle I get into every time she eats.

Agh! Fingers are fine to start, but if she keeps going, soon I will be cleaning oatmeal out of her ears with a cue tip. But I have to let her learn how to use the spoon, I suppose, and if I don't, she'll never feel confident learning anything herself. On the other hand, I also have to teach her table manners, and if I don't do that, I'll have a harder time teaching her down the road. But you know what? Right now I don't even care about "down the road"--I just selfishly want to avoid giving her an impromptu bath in the sink after breakfast, AGAIN. Ugh. You know what? I'll just let 'er go at it. A dirty baby is a happy baby, right?

And so she does. While she dug and shoveled and finger-ed away, I resignedly ate my cereal. But this was not the end.

"Uh buhdah bah?" She waved her sticky finger at my cereal. Well, I knew it was coming. I scooped up some of my cereal, let most of the milk drain back into my bowl, then plopped it on her plate. She poked it around a little with her spoon before setting the utensil aside. Did you know soggy cereal is a finger food, too?

And so we finished our morning meal together. All in all, I was impressed--her fingers, hands and face were a mess and her tray was atrocious, but that was really all the damage.

"Ahh, buh dacackah. Buh BAH! BAH!" Cambrie chattered happily to me, to herself, and to the chirping birds outside. You know, I really have it pretty great. A happy, adorable baby who eats well, learns quickly, and loves the world around her. Life is good.

As though she could read my thoughts, Cambrie lifted her head in a joyful, jubilant grin and clapped. If you're happy and you know it... After those merry claps, with barely a half a second for me to intervene, those sticky, milky, happy hands swung back to grab two, big patches of her hair. The birds stopped singing. I wondered why I ever wished her hair would grow longer.

"Okay, babe, you're done." And I lugged my cheerful baby over to the sink for her impromptu morning bath.

You know you're a parent when...

You know you’re a parent when you find yourself in a hotel room at 10:30 at night having just arrived from skipping out on the last part of your brother’s wedding rehearsal dinner because of a sick and fussy baby (no surprise on the fussy part, considering how late it is); the baby is finally put to bed, and you find yourself eating the dinner you couldn’t finish at the restaurant on the floor of a hotel room (so as not to wake the baby) with a plastic knife and spoon (because that’s all you have).

So for those contemplating the jump from matrimonial bliss to mommy and daddy, here it is:

Bon appetit!

Playground Tales

We had a flash of good weather (50's and 60's) last week, so we hopped on down to the local playground.

This was the first time Cambrie really started to play on the playground. She climbed up onto the sprawling playground structures, poked at the little side-games in the walls (like the tic-tac-toe blocks you spin around), teetered across the wiggly bridge, and nearly got knocked over by older kids playing tag at least three times.

Since her birth, Cambrie has been intensely aware of the world around her. She's loves to watch, analyze, and observe, and it's part of what makes her seem like such a mellow, chill, well-behaved child. Though I've always loved this feature in her, I may have to train her to squelch it on command--the tendency to pause and watch can be treacherous on the playground. But with our coaching, she managed alright.

Our favorite part of the day was watching Cambrie navigate the slides all by herself. It's a little thrilling (can something be just a little thrilling?--this was) to see your baby girl willingly launch herself onto a low-friction surface where she'll have little control over where she ends up. Can she do that? Isn't it terrifying? Well, she did, and apparently not. Maybe next time I need a surge of courage (or blissful ignorance, I guess), I'll just look to my daughter.

All in all, the outing was a good one--refreshing, enlightening, and relaxing. It was exciting to see Cambrie slowly moving from being mainly a spectator to more of a participant. A player. I guess we'll just have to see what our next playground adventure holds...

Making Music

Today we went to the library. My favorite part about this particular library is that it sits, no joke, on Literary Lane. I took a picture to prove it.

Cambrie was being a little fussy in the backseat, so Patrick tried to pep her up.

"Cambrie! Hey, Cambrie, we're going to the library... won't that be fun? Woohoo! Li-brar-y! We're goin' to the li-brar-y!" The end of his pep talk had picked up a little rhythm and pitch, so after a short pause, he continued.

"Caaaaaam-brie! Caaambrie and the Liiiii-brar-y!"

She was quiet. It was working. I jumped in.

"Oh Cambrie, Cambrie likes the liiii-brar-y, she likes it 'cause there's BOOKS!"

(When singing improvised songs to an 18 month old, grammar is superfluous.)

So, Patrick and I, with awesome rhythm, no intelligible tune, and considerable random emphasis, sang a song for our daughter. It went a little something like this:

Cambrie! Cambrie and the Lii-brar-y.

Cambrie! Cambrie and the Lii-brar-y.

Cambrie likes the Library, 'cause

Cambrie and the Library are FRIENDS!

We're goin' to the Liii-brar-y.

And we're gonna read some BOOKS!

And we're gonna see the TURTLE!

THERE'S A TURTLE AND HIS NAME IS TUCK!

OHHHH TUCK THE TURTLE will be there.

Soooooo much fun to

read and look around and

play with the BIG STUFFED ANIMALS that are theeerrrrreeee!!!

OOOOHHHH Cambrie! Cambrie and the Lii-brar-y.

Cambrie! Cambrie and the Lii-brar-y.

Cambrie likes the Library, 'cause

Cambrie and the Library are FRIENDS!

About this point, we were pretty excited about our song. I turned around to gauge Cambrie's reaction. She was doing this:

Yup. Staring at her feet, playing with her untied shoelaces. Huh. So much for our adoring audience.

But at least she was quiet and happy, all the way to the library!

(Dang it, that's kind of catchy. Now I'm gonna have "Cambrie and the Lii-brar-y!" stuck in my head all day...)

Baking and Battle Plans

In the Carlson household, we are not counting down to this coming Saturday as much as we are Wednesday. T minus two days.

Wednesday morning, bright and early, we will begin our journey to Utah for Christmas. Normally, this would be a time of excitement, anticipation, and getting lost in a good book to the dull roar of an airplane engine. Now I'm worried we're entering a war zone.

So, to take the edge off this post while I describe our battle plans, I'm going to surreptitiously spread a little Christmas cheer by showing some goodies we've enjoyed the past few weeks (baking and feeding people is my solution to boredom).

Here is our challenge: keeping a generally calm but super inquisitive baby happy during a 45 minute drive, a 2 1/2 hour flight, a 1 1/2 hour layover, a three hour flight, then another 45 minute drive. Yes, I've adjusted for time changes.

Whew! That deserves some Pineapple Cake:

Since we'll be in the back seat with Cambrie for the car rides, we're not too concerned with those. She'll be able to walk around a little during the layover, if all goes well, so that shouldn't be too bad. But five and a half hours of plane? Are we really that crazy? She will not want to sit still for that long, and walking around to expend a little energy is not really an option. Cambrie is not cuddly and hardly ever falls asleep in our arms. We don't have a mini DVD player, and we don't even have a cool phone, so keeping her quiet by numbing her brain with screen time won't work either.

So what is our plan?

No, not cookies. Here's what we have in the arsenal:

• A newly put together "Family Book" with photos of all her family members. She loves faces and names, so maybe she'll know all her aunts and uncles by the time we get out there!
• A camera. This might be just as good as a portable DVD player, as long as the batteries don't die.
• New and unhealthy snacks. We're usually mean. I don't think Cambrie has ever had a goldfish cracker; store brand cheerios are cheaper and healthier. But specifically for this trip, we're breaking out the goldfish, sugary fruits, and dum dums (last resort).
• New toys. The Christmas section at Wal-mart had lots of $1 stocking stuffers, including a little wind-up Santa. I'm hoping that'll buy us some happy time.

We also have the basics:

• Extra sets of clothes, diapers, and wipes.
• Her blanket, pacifier, and cat.
• Pencil and paper, favorite storybooks, and baby doll.
• A refusal to care about the grumpy holiday travelers that could be sitting right in front of us.

I'm really terrified of her having a major blowout, me trying to change her in a loud, cramped airplane bathroom, her screaming and writhing because she's uncomfortable and scared, and getting poo all over an already gross public toilet.

*Think happy thoughts of Lemon-Almond Bread*

I just need to tell myself over and over: it has been done before. I'm lucky I have just one child and (at least on the way out), Patrick to help me. It'll be no problem. We'll see. I'll get the whole plane to sing Christmas carols with me if I have to and if it'll keep her happy.

Ending on a cute note: Some of these cookies were for a Christmas cookie exchange. I put a sign up protecting them. I'll have to start putting these signs lower, where Cambrie can read them.

See the cookie in her hand? I had my back turned for two seconds, and this is what she does. I wish she were less cute, so I could scold her, or do whatever it is a mom is supposed to do in this situation.

Be kind to me on the plane, baby girl! I hope you enjoyed your cookie!