From the Basement

Nathaniel Trivia

2012-01-17T14:26:00.000-08:00

Here are a few things you might not know about my super duper awesome husband:

1. He had a beard. It was our last Christmas break with Nathaniel in school (and therefore our last real Christmas break). Yes, technically the honor code forbids men to go even a day without shaving, Christmas break included. But I liked it, and I miss it. And then there is this quote from Hugh Nibley:

"The worst sinners, according to Jesus, are not the harlots and publicans, but the religious leaders with their insistence on proper dress and grooming, their careful observance of all the rules, their precious concern for status symbols, their strict legality, their pious patriotism... the haircut becomes the test of virtue in a world where Satan deceives and rules by appearances."

2. He will throw your stuff away if you're not looking. Sometimes living with Nathaniel reminds me of living with one of my nannies. I totally had to watch my stuff, and if anything went missing, there was a good chance it was in the trash. Nathaniel isn't that bad, but he really loves throwing stuff away. If I can't make a good case for keeping it, it's gone. Good thing I'm not a pack rat.

3. He has a moral opposition to excessive sweets. Nathaniel is not a sweet hater. He likes specific, high-quality sweets with long intervals in between. Popcorn balls do not make the cut (madness, I know). He highly disapproves of eating cookie dough as well. Good chocolates do make the cut, but as evidenced by the fact that his Christmas chocolates are sitting in a closet untouched, he keeps sugar comsumption at bay until he really wants it. I am simetaneously in awe and totally annoyed at this fact.

4. He bought an Eminem album and listens to it regularly. We heard an interview on NPR and he's been a fan ever since.

5. He loves Mormon Stories podcasts. His favorites are Richard Bushman and Terryl Givens.

6. He was made to be a dad. Seriously, he is amazing. He is always thinking of little tricks and games to keep Summer entertained, and she loves him for it so much. He is also more than willing to change bums, clean up her room, teach her to do chores for herself, etc. It's just the best.

7. He hates it when people don't listen. If you want to get on Nathaniel's good side, listen to what he says. He usually doesn't make people listen to things he doesn't think they'd want to listen to, but of course family is an exception. Lucky for me I really do want to know his thoughts on everything, including his thoughts on running races, law school scheduling, and dreams, becuase really he has some awesome thoughts.

8. He loves minimalist, modern decor. I didn't think he cared, but I was tickled when he liked the couch I picked out that wouldn't look out of place on the set of Mad Men and the (arguably not the greatest) Tulip table knock-off we have. I like lots of different styles, but I would have been sorta sad if he was all about ugly stuff.

9. He is sort of obsessed with technology. I'm hesitant to use the word "obsessed" to describe Nathaniel, because he does an exceptional job compartmentalizing his life, never letting one area go neglected. HOWEVER, if Nathaniel is wasting time on the internet, there is a good chance he's looking for information about iPhone 5 rumors.

10. He does not like too much attention. There are a thousand reasons I am crazy in love with him, but he would never let me blog about them. I admit, this makes sense. But this is my way of getting around it. Ba ha ha.

Voicemail

2011-12-07T19:34:00.000-08:00

Summer left me a cute voicemail and I thought I would share it. Not much happens after the first 30 seconds so don't keep listening in the hopes that something interesting happens at the end.

Transcription:

Summer: Daddy . . . Daddy . . . . Daddy . . . Can you not hear me?
Dorothy: He can't hear you.
Summer: Um, what's that?
Dorothy: Nothing.
Summer: Is it an Oreo?
Dorothy: No.
Summer: What is it? Could I see?
unintelligible
Summer: What does it say?
Dorothy: T E R R Y S, Terry's
Summer: Oh.

I don't know what Terry's is or how Dorothy managed to distract Summer from the Oreo.

A Real Announcement

2011-11-29T05:21:00.000-08:00

Except that it's probably not an announcement. Most people know that I'm pregnant anyway. So maybe this can be a blog post about another sort of announcement.

Announcement: I just puked and the first part of pregnancy really sucks and blogging while pregnant is no fun so here are a bunch of pictures from the past couple months:

These are all out of order so lo siento for that. We had a bit of a snow and Summer tried to make a snowman. No, you can't really see the snowman:

Hats from Sterling in the mission field (Nathaniel's brother):

Totally inappropriate post-thanksgiving behavior:

Out exploring rocks. This was such a fun little family outing:

I wasn't feeling too great, so one night I had nothing to suggest for dinner. Summer took matters into her own hands and opened the fridge, grabbed a bag of carrots, and took it upstairs. We had ourselves a carrot party. Summer, ever the resourceful one, decided to put the remaining carrots to good use and became a snowgirl:

Helping dig:

How do you teach your kid to smile?

She was soooo good getting her nails painted!

Making friends with the BYU Cougar:

I feel completely confident saying Summer's favorite pastime is hanging:

Okay, maybe somersaults too:

Chilling in Mona:

Do we take too many pictures of Summer?

Lawnmower rides at the Halloween party:

Her chosen pumpkins:

Walking at some lakes around Mona:

This is actually just Summer hanging out at the park with Nathaniel. But I like it.

I don't know what this picture is.

Law school Halloween party:

Horseback riding:

No more horseback riding:

Oh, I guess that's the end. There you go. Pictures for the grandparents.

No, seriously, thanks to those who bugged me to blog because although I did not particularly enjoy doing it, I'm sure I'll be really glad later that I did it. Love you all. Muah.

An Announcement

2011-09-14T20:08:00.000-07:00

You guys, my computer is broken. Not very broken, since I'm typing this on it right now. But I dropped it - well, I actually unintentionally threw it off the counter - and now the most important 20% of the screen is black. It's pretty creepy.

I always thought it was lame to write a blog post about not blogging, but here we are. Actually, I think I've done it before. anyway, yeah, writing a blog post on this computer is so annoying I won't be doing much unless I really have something to say.

But since I'm here, might as well give you an update.

Nah, there's not enough going on for that. Nathaniel does school, I read books from the library and play with Summer, and Summer alternates between driving us crazy when we forget to feed her to being a sweet little princess. Speaking of Summer, do any of you know how she learned the phrase, "Oh my gosh?" I'm so curious...

DC Recap

2011-08-29T22:20:00.001-07:00

Full disclosure: I almost never read blog posts that have "recap" in the title, especially when the subject matter is an event that happened a while ago. And that's exactly what this blog post will be. So if you don't want to read it, I completely understand. I usually don't believe in catching up, in a journal or a blog, but DC was so special that I have to record some thoughts about our time there.

Also: overenthusiastic blog post alert. You've been warned.

Okay. Here we go.

I've heard stories, and I bet you have too, of Provo moms who tag along with their husbands to an East Coast city and complain the whole time. No family. No friends. No Cafe Rio.

I don't fault these women for feeling this way (except the Cafe Rio part), but I didn't want to be one of them. I knew this would be my only time in DC with no obligations except taking care of one easy-going two year old, so I made a goal to have one outing a day in DC. I made a list on the sidebar of this blog of the places I wanted to visit and if I ever wondered what to do for a day, I just checked it out and we went somewhere on the list. Well, we didn't do something touristy every day. Some days, the outing was Costco or something equally pedestrian. But we did some awesome things.

And I hardly took any pictures. Goodness, I'm lame.

Anyway, we hit all the big museums. Summer's favorite, by far, was the Museum of American History. The "Invention at Play" exhibit was there and my little girl and I got to play with fans, balls, magnets, laser-type thingies that change depending on the pitch in your voice, etc. The museum also has a rad exhibit featuring transportation throughout the ages. We saw cool, old, trains! And metros! And cars! It's amazing to me that places equally as enchanting to a 28-year old and a 2-year old actually exist. We had a blast.

My favorite museum was the National Gallery of Art. Not because I'm an art buff - I wish I was. What was so special about this place was the building itself. Walking through the museum, I felt like I was transported into another place, a place far more beautiful (and blissfully air conditioned) than anywhere I'd visited in a long time.

See? Doesn't it remind you of a palace? So pretty. I could spend all day there.

We went to the zoo four times. I almost died of the heat every single time. I don't know how those people wearing jeans survive. Still, it was worth it to see a baby panda slumped over sleeping on a rock.

We also managed to squeeze in a couple of weekend excursions outside the city. The first was the cardboard boat races in Oxford, Maryland, on the Chesapeake. They do it once a year, and when I found out it was during our time there and Nathaniel was free, there was no question about whether or not we would make the trip. Everyone in a beautiful, sleepy town on the Chesapeake comes out to shore and joins the visitors to watch, well, a bunch of cardboard boats do races. The best part was watching the unfortunate souls whose boats capsized swim along, dragging their boats. Maybe there was some sort of rule about not giving up, EVER. If so, I'm glad, because it was hilarious.

We also visited Nathaniel's (famous) friend in New York City. We ate some really big pizza, and some really big chocolate chip cookies. And we rode the subway a lot, and walked a lot, and our legs just about fell off. Central Park was great. I like that method of entertainment because you pay IF you're entertained. And if you have some cash in your purse.

If anyone reading this blog post happens to have options of a number of cities, and DC is one of them, I highly recommend DC. Yes, housing and food are expensive in DC. But entertainment? Free. Only once this summer was I subjected to a playground, and never did I pay to enter a museum or a zoo or any other amazing attraction. The suggested donation for a morning at the Met in NYC? Twenty bucks. DC is the right choice, so choose the right choice and be happy, you must always choose the right.

I have one major regret about my time there. Despite my love for sugar, I'm sort of obsessed with nutrition and I'm fascinated with the ways the government influences what we eat. At the Archives, there is a temporary exhibit about the, well, propaganda the government has used to influence American's diets. How did I not go to that? I missed the poster that explains that one of the major food groups is butter and fortified margarine. And the one encouraging Americans to eat carp. Tragedy.

Our summer in DC was really a special time for me. I'm not sure exactly why, but it was.

Late one morning, I was walking on F street, I think, looking for some food. I was waiting for the light to turn green when a man in a suit with a kind face looked at Summer and laughed. I looked at her and discovered that she was out cold. "Tired her out, huh? Too many museums, probably."

The guy seemed so nice it didn't bother me that I apparently had "tourist" written on my forehead. But I was bummed that Summer was asleep, and that the most reasonable thing to do was go home. I turned around and headed back toward the mall where I was parked.

As I walked, I realized that I didn't have to do the most reasonable thing. Sure, there was no chance that she would take a good nap in her stroller, and because of that would likely be grouchy the rest of the day. But I was in my favorite place in the whole world with a sleeping toddler. I could do anything. I could go ahead and get some food - something that I couldn't get anywhere else. I could return to the art gallery and actually sit and enjoy the indoor gardens. I could see the food exhibit at the Archives. The possibilities, while not endless, were many, and tantalizing.

As I walked, I looked down at my comfortable gray dress and metallic flats. The humidity was making a mess of my hair, despite my attempts to tame it with a braid. Tourists streamed out of buses and passed me on either side, speaking a variety of languages I didn't recognize. Rain started to trickle down, and I watched a few drops fall on Summer's hair.

Sometimes I reflect on the summer before I got married with aching nostalgia - I want to go back to the dance parties, the days spent by the pool, the belly dancing, the tingling excitement of new love. But that day, as I walked down Constitution Avenue, pushing Summer's cheap blue umbrella stroller, I felt like I had hit another high - a new standard - a time I would want to return to again and again and again. This was the good life.

The rain woke Summer up and I didn't get to do anything of those things I still dream of. But when people ask how our summer was, I have to reign in my excitement and say, "It was awesome. I can't wait to go back. Only two more years." Let the countdown begin.

Because I Don't Want to Go to Bed

2011-08-23T23:14:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's because I spent most of the day barefoot and in the kitchen, and it still doesn't look particularly clean. Maybe it's because my best law school friends are scattered throughout the country and none lives near me. Maybe it's because I have finally realized that Nathaniel's legal skills are currently far superior to mine and fundamental principles of specialization dictate that I should give up trying to practice. Maybe it's because Pita Pit is making way smaller pitas than they used to. Maybe it's because Provo is just really weird. Whatever the reason, I'm felling pretty blah.

So there's only one thing to do. Make a list of all the things in my life that are super awesome.

1. Summer is alive. This is my proudest achievement to date. She had a check-up today and she is doing great. She's in the twentieth percentile for weight (25 lbs) and the tenth percentile for height (33 inches). The doctor was very impressed with her verbal skills and told me to keep doing what I'm doing, which actually involves quite a bit of sweets and at least an hour a day of Curious George. Hey, doctor's orders...

2. Nathaniel was home early today, which is always wonderful. Nathaniel, for those who are unaware, is the most perfectest husband for me.

3. I got a Bosch. My house smells like bread and I have several loaves waiting for my little fam when they wake up. I'm sure Summer is going to be so delighted with the mini loaves. If anyone wants some bread, just ask! I make no guarantees as to quality, but I promise I'll have a great time making it.

4. In my (functioning!) freezer I have two "ice cream" sandwiches made from coconut milk. Heaven.

5. I know cool people in my ward here. I was nervous to come back, but it was so nice to see many familiar faces at church last Sunday.

6. Summer and I went to BYU today to drop off Nathaniel's helmet and mail off a package, and Summer decided to wander into the arcade. So we played a few rounds of ski-ball. You guys, you totally want this girl on your team when you play. She has mastered the art of climbing up the ramp and under the steel net to put the ball in the highest hole.

7. My mother in law, besides being awesome in general, is an amazing gardener and is also very generous. Today I ate tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, carrots, thyme, and green beans from her garden.

Okay, so do I feel better? A little. But going to sleep would probably make me feel best. Why didn't I think of that earlier? Okay, I'm off.

I'm Alive!

2011-08-19T16:40:00.000-07:00

You guys, we don't have internet at home. I'm typing this at the law library at BYU. I'm sure that when the powers that control the purse strings decided they needed computers that the public could access, they totally had little bloggers like me in mind. So here we are. Wanna know what our little family has been up to lately? Good.

Summer is just being adorable. And totally obnoxious, cause she's two, you know? But we are seriously best friends and we make each other laugh and I can't get enough of her. Most of the time. Her new favorite phrases are "I'm too special" (she does not know what this means), "I love it," and "We need to have another baby." Her concept of us having another baby sort of involves finding one and returning it to its mommy, a la Dora and the baby blue bird.
Nathaniel is doing all this boring law review training stuff. He really loved being a summer associate, so the adjustment back to law school is going to be rough for him.
Speaking of rough adjustments, I'm pretty bummed to be back in Provo. Sorry to be a downer, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't having Smithsonian withdrawals. But hey, we'll be back in just two years!
We'll be back in two years instead of one because Nathaniel got a clerkship for a judge in SLC. So we'll be in Provo for a year, then Salt Lake/Farmington for a year, then to DC for, well, ever, hopefully.
I've been a vegan for a week and it's going really well. I feel awesome and all happy and whatnot. If you want to talk to me about it you should totally call me because, yeah, no internet.
Oh, and my phone isn't working right now because we are moving back into a new (and waaaaay better!) apartment and our crap is all over everywhere and we do not know the location of my phone battery. But I'll find it, and then we'll chat when you call me because I have no more phone numbers because I have a new (worse) phone, too.
I've been contemplating making crab apple jam and plum jam from all the fruit trees that surround our apartment complex. The only thing is jars. I have to buy jars. That seems so wrong.
I think I have somehow turned into an introvert and I'm really nervous to go back to church in our old ward. I used to be the relief society president - are people going to expect me to, like, talk to people? The thought makes me anxious. I guess this is how my dad feels all the time. I really wish we were going to a new ward were I could just slip into obscurity.

And that's it! Oh, and I had a birthday that involved driving through Virginia, Maryland, West Virginia (ugh), Pennsylvania, West Virginia again (?!?), Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri. I experienced, for the first time, a desire to be in Indiana. I was driving late at night attempting to reach our final destination before 2:30 AM (we failed), when I realized that I had no idea where I was and I hoped Indiana was it. Alas, we were still in Ohio. I don't think we're going to do that again.

On Patriotism

2011-07-19T10:06:00.000-07:00

When I was in third grade, I was riding in the back seat of my mom’s car. We stopped at a red light and I looked up. I beheld an American flag: not billowing in the breeze as much as I thought appropriate, yet still demanding respect. I placed my right hand solemnly over my heart and said the pledge of allegiance as many times as I could while my mom waited for the light to turn green. I mumbled under my breath quickly and went through five or six repetitions. It wasn’t a display of exuberance; I was merely doing what duty required.

Every force must be met with an equal and opposite force. Well, I suppose this isn’t completely true when it comes to matters of childhood indoctrination, because I don’t hate the United States. I’m glad I live here. I do think I could be equally happy in the UK, but not as happy in Somalia. Of course I’d be happiest in Hawaii, which is basically part of the US of A. Anyway, the point is that I don’t hate the US, but I don’t love it either. It’s just a country, with lots of good qualities and lots of bad qualities. The US is not my husband. It’s not my daughter. It’s not even the dog I had before the animal-loving part of my heart turned into stone. It’s a country: too vast and complicated and multi-faceted for words like love.

To me, if I said I loved my country, I would be simplifying things too much. Do I love that people here can start businesses relatively easily? Yes. Do I love our public education system? No. Do I love my freedom to vote and walk around wearing basically whatever I want? Yes (and I choose sleeves and knee-length skirts). Do I love subsidies for corn, soybeans, and oil? No. Do I love Costco? Yes. Do I also love Carrefour? You betcha.

Maybe something in the patriotism part of my brain is broken. But when I sit by the Air Force Memorial watching fireworks erupt next to the Washington Monument, looking around at the massive crowd decked out in red, white, and blue, I start thinking that France and Singapore and even Argentina probably have a similar ratio of good to bad things. (Okay, I’ve eaten Argentinean food before and I take that one back. Replace it with New Zeland.) There is nothing wrong with celebrating America’s good qualities, but does America have to be THE BEST? If China beats us in various economic measures and gymnastics, aren’t we secure enough in our own good fortune (and our belief that karma will someday be problematic for those cheaters) to not worry about it? And is it necessary to use the same terms to describe this country that I reserve for family and pets that were tragically sent to the pound twenty years ago? Is it okay to just like America?

I understand why some people love America. If I came here from the USSR pre-glasnost my love for America would probably come in at a close second to my love for my family. And while I may not understand why people who know so little about other countries love America so much, it doesn’t bother me that they do. (I will say, though, that hyper patriotism does seem a little insensitive after living in a place like Romania where most would gladly leave their lives there just to have a shot at a good one here. And I believe that unless you don’t have access to the internet you should never admit you’re not sure where Iraq and Iran are on a map – but that’s not patriotism anyway, right?)

Anyway, what got me thinking about this subject was Japan’s win in soccer. A large portion of their country was just devastated by an earthquake, and tsunami, and a nuclear disaster of unprecedented proportions. It was a devastating blow to their country. Looking at pictures of celebrations in Japan after their win over the US, I can’t help but be happy about their win. Go Japan.

Summerisms

2011-06-25T18:08:00.000-07:00

Right now, Summer is supposed to be asleep. But she's not. She's in our bedroom, in her pack and play, sort of crying, sort of shouting, sort of playing with her stuffed animals. "No thank you, Mommy," she just cried out. "I'm a busy little girl." I have no idea.

Today on our road trip we saw a helicopter land in a field close by. After we hit the road again, Summer said, "Mommy, pleeeeease can I fly a helicopter? A little red one? And a BIG purple one? Please?" I think she was very satisfied by our little pretend helicopter ride.

Summer has given me many names: Mommy, Mommy Dorothy, Dorothy Allison Ward, etc. But I think my favorite is Mister Mommy.

And in case you didn't hear on Facebook, Summer's likes to talk about "the mischievous little Jefferson Memorial." This one really confuses me.

But maybe my favorite thing that Summer has been saying lately is that I'm her best friend. I love to hear that.

How we did family stuff together mostly

2011-06-09T11:31:00.000-07:00

So I finally put our pictures on our computer, and this is what we have:

Summer in Provo being cute in the car:

Mother's Day flowers:

I wasn't joking when I said that Summer eats butter whenever she can get her hands on it:

Then we took a trip in the car from Provo to DC. Summer pooped and we have the diaper-change-in-a-random-field pic to prove it:

And Daddy Nathaniel brushed her hair:

And forced her to give him a hug:

I was trying to get some great shots of the scenery (I love wide open flat spaces - I can't help it). The problem was that I was driving. Nathaniel got sorta mad.

Summer was a doll on the way. See?

Nathaniel hooked up the ipod to the back of the driver's seat and Summer was good enough to let Curious George entertain her the whole way:

Cars wasn't quite as successful:

Nathaniel, mad that I'm taking pictures of him:

Me:

I love windmills:

Here is one being shipped in on a truck. I get a big kick out of this sort of thing:

We ate at Cracker Barrell and Summer loved the food but what she really loved were the rocking chairs:

And our new apartment! Summer prefers to eat on the floor:

We went to the zoo and saw a cheetah:

And lots of other stuff, but we got sick of taking pictures. Summer did show everyone that I'm Mormon, though:

I made this:

And Summer is cute.

And here is our sectional that no longer smells like dog:

And I went to Georgia for my 10-year high school reunion and this is the only picture I got there:

Hmm, here Summer is being cute...in Utah:

I'm taking tips from Haley Rencher and grabbing a camera instead of screaming and throwing crap at the wall (luckily, I don't care at all about this lipstick, so I picked a good thing to start with).

And this is from President's Day weekend:

Yeah, families are good.

How I Fell Asleep Cuddling a Juice Box

2011-06-02T09:21:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I planned on going to the pool with Summer, but she had a bit of, well, the runs, so I decided not to make everyone's else's pool day really lame and we stayed inside in the air conditioning instead.

Isn't it funny that a stay-at-home mom's day consists of outings? Teaching kids that the important things in life are outings so that they stay entertained and fed. JK. A little bit.

Anyway, so instead of going to the pool, we decided to make pizza. Ha, yes, we sat down together and went through our options and mutually decided that pizza was our best plan B. Okay, so it was all my idea, but I'm sure Summer was on board once she got to watch a couple of hours (yikes!!!) of Thomas the Train and then when we had ourselves a little meal of gooey, fatty, melted fresh mozzarella on crispy crust. Yum, I might have to make another for lunch.

So what was Nathaniel doing while we made pizza and cleaned up the gigantic mess it created and watched way too much TV? Wine tasting. That's right; part of his job as a summer associate is to go sample wine and food pairings, except since he's a practicing Mormon, it turned out to be a water and food pairing event for him. And a pretty lonely night for me. I think Summer had good company in Thomas and friends, though. And Nathaniel did have a great time, so on average we are a pro social event family.

So you're probably wondering how - when we have only one car, and the public transportation in DC and the surrounding area is really lame after a certain hour - does Nathaniel get home from these social events? Yes, I knew you'd be asking yourself just that. The answer is that I, the ever dutiful wife, head out into the city and pick him up. It's not far and it's a beautiful drive, but the hours are tough on Summer. Last night she got to bed at 10:00 PM. Awesome.

So when Nathaniel got home, I made him some pizza, because apparently the food they give you to pair with your water isn't so filling. The technique I followed for making the pizza called for heating up a cast iron skillet in a 550 degree oven , then placing the pizza on the skillet. And of course, when I took it out, I burned myself on a 550 degree skillet.

Yeah, it was pretty painful. I nursed my finger with a frozen cold pack and went to bed. But it's actually quite difficult to go to sleep when you've got something frozen on your hand. So I got up and watched Salt. Then I watched An Education. Then I read every blog I could think of. I read two pages of The Prince for this month's book club. I seriously tried to get into the Bible, but by that time it was 4 AM and The Good Book just wasn't doing it for me. So I watched No Reservations. By that point, I could keep my finger away from the ice for thirty seconds before the searing pain started, and I was really quite tired so maybe the desire to sleep could overcome the desire to avoid pain. Also by that point, the cold pack was warm. Luckily, I caved to Summer's demands for juice boxes and have 29 frozen ones in the fridge.

So I went to sleep cuddling a juice box.

Are you bored yet? Sorry, but KEEP READING! This next bit is the best part of this arguably awful blog post!

Nathaniel typically takes the metro to work. There is a shuttle that takes him from our apartment complex to the metro, except not him because either he or I or Summer stalls him every morning and he misses it and we drive. But it's a three minute drive so hey.

But one attorney who lives in the same area drives the whole way to work. He's not into the metro, which takes at least 35 minutes from the Pentagon City metro to the office. We were curious how that would be with the traffic, so we left at eight and gave it a go.

How long did it take this morning to commute from our apartment in Arlington, Virginia to his office in downtown DC? As a frame of reference, driving to BYU Law from our place in Provo took anywhere from 10 to 15 minutes, depending on lights. Last year, the commute from our place in Maryland to downtown DC took Nathaniel an hour and 10 minutes.

So how long did this one take? EIGHT MINUTES! In TRAFFIC!

It still blows my mind. I think it's fair to say that Summer and I will take the extra ten minutes out of our day to take Nathaniel to work a bit more often.

I mean, how is that even possible? If we lived in an apartment building in that area for about four thousand dollars a month, walking to his office would take the same amount of time.

(Walking would create a smaller carbon footprint, though. I'll drive less to make up the difference, I promise. Cause dang it, it's so fun to drive past all those landmarks and take Nathaniel to work, and then turn around and go home, knowing that you have just have a day full of outings ahead of you.)

(Except today, when we missed playgroup because Summer is very uncooperative when she goes to bed two hours past her regular bedtime. )

The End! Finally!

Except one more thing. For the first time since I was maybe 16 years old, I bought a giant fountain drink of soda to keep myself awake. Except now Summer's sleeping, and I can't because I feel like this:

Summer Speak

2011-05-25T11:27:00.000-07:00

So, Summer loves to talk. She said her first word at eight and a half months old, and people are constantly commenting that she speaks better than a lot of three-year olds they know. She doesn't just parrot - she is constantly forming complex sentences she has never heard before. I love it, because it's so fun to have conversations with this girl that aren't one sided. Plus, I have a good idea of what's going on in her head.

I've tried not to blog about it too often. Once we had lunch with some friends and another family. The other family had a boy who was about six months older than Summer, and Summer spoke significantly better than he did. Later, we found out that the family was sort of embarrassed that their son couldn't say anything.

But in doing that, I think I've lost many wonderful memories of the hilarious things Summer says. This girl's speech is constantly making us laugh and making my heard burst with love when I learn what she's thinking and feeling. And I hardly remember any the specific phrases she has said. I know that a journal is probably a more appropriate place for this sort of thing, but I think I'm just going to have to face reality and recognize that my big journaling days are over.

Plus, people should know that early speech has no relation to later intelligence. More importantly, it has no relation to happiness, or kindness, or spirituality, or tenacity, or any other trait that really means anything. So basically, Summer's speech ability doesn't matter.

But it's fun! It's so fun to hear her say, "Hi, I'm Summer. And these are my friends, Mommy and Daddy!" And I want to remember all these phrases that describe a bit of her little world.What I write is just a sad imitation of the real thing, because so much of the humor and sweetness of her phrases comes from her inflection. But I'll do my best to convey her tone.

And I know that this is going to be so much more interesting to myself and Nathaniel than anyone else in the whole world. And that is totally okay.

Anyway, here is today's gem. Summer pushed a chair up to the kitchen counter and climbed up it, only to fall down a minute later. I grabbed her and let her cry in my arms, and after a minute of wailing she said, "I tried to put the sugar in mommy's bowl, and I was sad, and I fell down...on the counter." Oh, the sad life of a two-year old!

And here is a lovely conversation that took place in the car:

Summer: "It's Ponyo's school! It's Ponyo's school!"
Nathaniel: "Ponyo's school?"
Summer: "Yeah!"
Nathaniel: "I think Ponyo's school is in Japan, and we're in Virginia."
Summer: (looking confused) "Yeah."
Nathaniel: "Are you a Japan girl?"
Summer: "No, I'm a California girl! I need to buy some stuff!"
Nathaniel: "You need to buy some stuff?"
Summer: "Yeah. Some chocolates...some peanut butter...and some candy..."

Here is another favorite. After finals ended, Nathaniel had two heavenly weeks off from almost everything and Summer got pretty used to him being around. Now, he's gone most of the day (a grueling 8:30 to 6:30 - we're getting spoiled) and I've had to explain what he's doing. Here's how she understands the situation:

"Daddy had to go on a train to go to work. A chugga chugga choo choo train! He has to go to work to get some money so he can buy stuff...some screwdrivers."

Oh, I really wish I could get these on camera. I'm really not doing them justice.

Anyway, just know that if you see a lot of Summerisms on here, I don't mean to brag and say that she's the smartest kid in the world. It's just so that I'll remember, and so that I'll have fun stories to tell her when she grows up.

Arlington

2011-05-22T19:17:00.000-07:00

As I type this, I'm lying on a sectional that smells like dog. However, everything else about my life right now is pretty fantastic. For starters, for the first time in our married lives, we have enough room in our apartment for a big comfy sectional. Also, this sectional cost only 150 bucks, and after I reprogram my brain to associate the light dog smell with images of my beloved first pet Shannon, a sweet dog that I had before I became sort of anti-dog, I'm sure I'll love it.

Another thing I love: the new place is only a one bedroom, but our closet is almost big enough for Summer's pack and play, so we decorated it with glow in the dark star stickers and that's her new little bedroom, and she feels at home in there.

I love that we see the Washington Monument and the Pentagon every day. I love that when we make a wrong turn we run into Arlington Cemetery, or the Jefferson Memorial, or some other amazing landmark. And Nathaniel's firm's office building is down the street from the Capitol.

I'm sure many seasoned DC residents would roll their eyes at my enthusiasm, but I can't help it. I've never lived in a place with so many interesting things to see and do and if we wind up living here I hope I never lose my appreciation for that. Tomorrow, Summer and I could see the Jefferson memorial, or the WWII memorial, or visit the National Museum of Art or the Museum of Natural History (a likely winner, as dinosaur bones make a memorable cameo in Curious George).

On Friday, we made a little family trip to the zoo and saw a cheetah (walking, not running, unfortunately), a pride of lions sunning themselves, a tiger looking solitary and stately, orangutans walking on wires high over our heads, a gorilla that scooted up right beside us and stared through the glass right at Summer, and plenty of other animals, including prairie dogs, which I was surprised to see being from a place where people shoot prairie dogs for fun and because they're bad for crops or something.

And the food! I have to restrain myself, but I have a long list of food places I want to try while we're here. Let me know if you know of more! (We're on Columbia Pike, in Arlington.) There are some great (and pricey) farmer's markets too, but when I want to splurge on sorrel or pasture-raised eggs, I know where to go. And, full disclosure, there's a Costco close by, and we're happy about that.

I am a little nervous, being in a new place. I hope I make friends and can find something useful for myself to do, because I have no hope of getting an 11-week job. I decided that I can't make money, but I can help people, so I'm looking for more of those opportunities. Luckily, we are in a great ward and I'm already being put to work.

Oh, and our ward! Never have I seen such efficiency at church! I had no idea there were wards where you check your kid into nursery, like daycare at the gym, except with a much better adult-kid ratio and Gospel lessons. They have three different rooms that the kids can just go between as they choose for much of the time, and Summer had a blast. And Bob Bennett is supposedly our Gospel Doctrine teacher? I guess he was out of town today. Or something. I was sort of lost during that part of the conversation because I was marveling over the fantastic nursery. Also, I was told that if I want to have fun and meet people, I have to go to Zumba, which is held at the church on Wednesday nights. And the Relief Society gave me chocolates as a little welcome treat.

So, I think we're going to have a good summer.

Amazing

2011-04-20T07:16:00.000-07:00

I'm blogging about these lemon bars because I don't think anyone should go another day without knowing about them.

I have no desires to meet any celebrities because I imagine the conversation that Billy Corgan or whoever and I would have and it's always really, really, awkward. David Lebovitz is the exception. I'm reading his book, The Sweet Life in Paris, and I've been reading his blog since Nathaniel and I got an ice cream maker three years ago and I stumbled upon his amazing ice cream recipes. His writing is addicting: not only because it's about all my hobbies - baking, foreign languages, and France - but it also makes him seem like such an fun guy to chat with, despite his claims that he's best enjoyed at arm's length. And I admit, I love it that he's gay and he doesn't hate Mormons. Oh, and he was a pastry chef at Chez Panisse for thirteen years and has written several cookbooks, so you can always trust his recipes.

So when he tells me to put an entire lemon (minus the seeds) into my lemon squares, I do it. I don't need the comments from the blog post that say, "These lemon bars were DIVINE!" and "Finally a lemon bar that tastes like my fantasies," and "I'll never use another recipe." I just do it and feel so happy that I made something so beautiful and delicious. And that I only used one lemon that the juice of half of another lemon, instead of the four I usually need for other recipes.

David's Lemon Squares. Mine looked just as good.

Here is the link. If you're going to make lemon bars, please just forget about your old recipe and use David's. (Yes, in my head we're on a first-name basis.)

She Can Pray

2011-04-15T19:58:00.000-07:00

Prayer is important. It's one of my favorite rituals - a time to stop and remember there's a lot to be grateful for, and a time to remember that God is involved in the details of our lives and is willing to help us every step of the way if we just ask. It's been really fun teaching Summer about prayer. I really wonder what exactly she thinks we're doing when we pray. Regardless, every night and before meals we pray. Sometimes we can get her to say it, feeding her the words and directing her attention to the good things in life. Sometimes, she'll say the whole prayer herself without help, which always goes: "Heavenly Father, thank you for this day. Amen."

Until last night. Last night, as we sat down for dinner, I asked Summer to say the prayer. She said, "Heavenly Father, thank you for this food. Thank you for the chicken, and the tacos, and the water, and mommy. Bless our bodies. Amen."

I think she was really hungry, because tonight when I asked her to say the prayer, she said, "The ball! I get the ball and I put it in my crib."

Eh, whatever. She's cute.

Is My Daughter Normal?

2011-04-12T12:11:00.000-07:00

Things Summer likes:

Onions (plain or cooked)
Eggs over easy
Cucumbers
Hunks of plain butter
Broccoli
Zucchini
Oatmeal (this she gets really excited about)
Plain yogurt

Things Summer doesn't like:

Ramen
Mac and cheese
Chicken nuggets (unless they're from McDonald's)
Scrambled eggs

The sad story of our camera and hair success!

2011-04-07T08:09:00.000-07:00

On President's Day, we went to Idaho to hang out with Nathaniel's friends and go snowmobiling and live like cowboys. It was great fun. Nathaniel dressed Summer up in her snowsuit and she looked like a little purple marshmallow. He took pictures, and since then we haven't seen our camera. It's so sad. I can't tell you how many times I wanted to grab our camera and capture a memorable moment, like yesterday when Summer got into bright fuchsia nail polish at Forever 21 and decorated her face, hands, and tummy with it before I realized what happened.

However, we have awesome neighbors who are willing to entertain odd requests like "will you please take a picture with us and e-mail it to me?" It's not a favor I would usually ask for, but this was an important moment in our family history and I had to have photographic proof.

Summer and I were hanging out on my bed, and she started brushing out my pony tail. We were just talking, when she suddenly decided she wanted something. Eventually, she directed us to the bathroom where we keep her completely unused mini elastics. She picked up it up and said she wanted it!

I've always felt like a slightly sub-par mother (but not really) (but a teeny bit) because I never do anything with Summer's hair. Once I was determined to give her a pony tail so I captured her, held her in between my legs, and did my best. After about three minutes of intense screams and sobs (Summer's, not mine), I gave up.

Is it weird that putting a little elastic in Summer's hair in about ten seconds, with not hatred or terror but delight and excitement from Summer, made me so happy? If I want to do her hair, I just need to put mine in an elastic and, because she's confused and has a lot to learn, Summer wants to be just like me! Yay!

Behold, Summer's hair:

Sure, it's a little crooked, but I was not about to take any chances with a re-do.

I promise I tried really hard to get Summer to smile. And yeah, I probably had too much fun with color fill and contrast.

These pictures also make me think I should try to put myself together a little more. Maybe do something with my hair and wear something else besides black t-shirts.

Nah.

By the way, thank you so much for everything you all said about the miscarriage. I really felt a lot of love. You guys are so great.

The Bright Side

2011-03-27T20:29:00.000-07:00

I had a miscarriage last Thursday. The pregnancy felt a lot like the pregnancy three years ago that ended in miscarriage, so it wasn’t a shock like last time. But still, it’s sad. Today I made a big effort to be grateful for all the good things in my life, instead of worrying about the fact that I’ve been pregnant three times and only have one child. And I found out that there are lots and lots of things that make me really happy. You want to know what they are, right?

My husband is hilarious. He can always make me laugh. I can’t remember any particular moment, but I know that I laugh a lot and I have Nathaniel to thank for most of those moments.
My daughter is also very good at making me laugh. I can’t tell you how awesome it is to sit in the front seat of the car and hear your child ask you to give her a “foot snuggle.” Or to hear her sing “I Am a Child of God” at the top of her lungs.
I'm in a great ward. We had an activity this past week and it was so fun. We watched home videos that people submitted. My favorites were the 1^st counselor’s video of himself and some friends lighting things on fire and the Elder’s Quorum President's slow-motion video of him attempting (and failing) to jump over a trash can. Well, then there was the 2^nd Counselor’s video of him, in full missionary attire, trying to ride a bike over a jump and failing grandly. And then the sister missionary singing an entire song with a helium balloon voice. Yeah, there was some good stuff. We have a great ward. You should move in. :)
Hydrocodone and Dilaudid are evidence that God loves His children. Sure, drugs make me a bit loopy, but how awesome is it when pain just goes away?
My mom came out and hung out with Summer while I was on bed rest. I don’t know what I would have done without her. Summer loves her grandma so much. It’s really sweet.
I am grateful I have the abilities that I have, and I’m excited to use them more.
Book clubs through Facebook messages are brilliant. I have loved it so much. Facebook me if you want to do one. They’re really exciting, unless you don’t like read a bunch of my opinions.
People have been so nice. I really appreciate it when I’ve been asked how I’m doing. I have felt a lot of love.

This list could go on, but not without getting really cheesy and possibly nearing Charlie Sheen levels of enthusiasm.

Life is really great. I’ve read a couple of reviews of The Book of Mormon – the musical, and one song in the musical really intrigues me. I think it’s called “Unfeel” or something (I just looked it up and it's called "Turn It Off," which is a much better title) and, from what I understand, it’s about Mormons’ uncanny ability to not feel bad emotions. I don’t think I have this ability, but from what I know of my culture I understand why people would think that of Mormons. Of course, it’s important to deal with negative emotions. Anyone who reads this blog knows that I don’t shy away from experiencing them. But it’s also okay to choose to look for the good in life and focus on that. Maybe someday I’ll have something more profound to say about the difference between “unfeeling” and optimism, but I’m still a bit drugged up and can't quite think. Not that I’m complaining.

Blasphemy

2011-03-20T21:59:00.000-07:00

A few nights ago, Nathaniel kneeled down beside our bed and addressed his prayer to Jimmer.

I asked him if I could write a blog post about it.

"No," he said. "It's too cliche."

Why Women Who Want Kids Should Not go to Law School

2011-03-17T00:25:00.000-07:00

This is a blog about my life – my thoughts, happenings in our family, cute shots of my toddler, etc. I have no idea why I’m going to spout off career advice, especially when pretty much no one who reads this blog is deciding whether or not to attend law school.

I guess I want young impressionable women about to get sucked into the law school trap to learn from my mistakes.

My first two weeks of law school, three if you include orientation, were awful. Awful not in the sense that I wasn’t enjoying myself, but awful in the sense that, because of unfortunate dating choices, I was not applying myself. I found myself in the career services office before the drop deadline, asking if it wouldn’t be a good move to defer my legal education for a year. Without realizing it, I had gotten far behind my classmates and I knew I wasn’t likely to do particularly well given my late start.

“Do you want to work for a law firm in a large city?” the counselor asked. “If you do, you need to be in the top ten percent. Otherwise, your grades don’t really matter. You’ll get a job no matter what.”

Awesome, I thought. I can focus on pre-marital counseling and working things out with my boyfriend. I’ll just sort of get through law school.

And I absolutely loved law school. I loved the class discussions, I loved my professors, I loved the friends I made (I still love you guys!), and I even loved the reading assignments when I did them. I didn’t worry too much about test-taking skills and how to get on law review. Why would I, when I could get a job no matter my grades? When I really liked the subject I did very well, but usually my grades were a respectable average. I constantly heard people complain about how much they hated law school, and I pitied them for their misplaced ambition. Didn’t they know that we were all going to get jobs?

And then the financial crisis hit, and even lawyers with stellar credentials were laid off in droves. I also got married (to another guy – it’s a long story) and, a year later, got pregnant.

I made the choice to go to law school in a world where I was single and able to work a full-time job anywhere in the country, and in an economy that had jobs just waiting for BYU Law graduates to snatch them up. And now, I find myself looking for part-time work in the same city my husband needs to be in for his schooling, in an economy suffering from an overabundance of lawyers. Oh, and I’m tens of thousands of dollars in debt.

I thought part-time work would be pretty easy to find. Part-timers don’t require benefits and can help attorneys out with a lot of tasks that paralegals can’t. I was totally wrong. When law firms hire attorneys fresh out of law school, they have to train them. It’s not worth it to law firms to hire part-time attorneys with no previous experience because it takes much longer for part-timers to get the hang of things and start being valuable to the firm. Also, when a firm does decide to get some part-time help, guess who they hire? Not the people in the bottom half of the class with no previous experience. Not in this economy, anyway.

So, if a woman who wants kids does decide to go to law school, she better get the best grades possible. I’ve heard men complain about women who do well in law school because they’re taking a good spot away from a man who needs a good job to support a family. Ignoring the general ridiculousness of the statement for a moment, I want to point out that it’s just wrong. In a household that follows traditional gender roles, everyone sacrifices for the husband to get a job. The family relocates, the wife looks after the kids so the husband can job hunt or start a practice, etc. My husband is not going quit law school so that I can brush up on my legal skills to make myself more employable. That scenario would require us to give up money for the chance to make much less money.

And by the way, when we relocate, guess who has to take another bar exam in order to have a chance at getting a job? My husband won’t have to because of reciprocity between states, which only applies to full-time attorneys. The legal profession isn’t very kind to wives and mothers.

In order to avoid wasting the money spent on the wife’s education, she needs to make her resume the best she possibly can so that employers want to train her, even for part-time work. She needs to do way better in school than most of those future breadwinners.

So here’s what it takes to do well in law school. Not that I know from personal experience, but I have seen my husband, a current 2L, do well. To get great grades, you should work 12 hour days 6 days a week. Twelve is a minimum, at least for the first year. You can’t just spend this time studying for classes, though that should take a big chunk of your 12 hour day. You also need to spend time figuring out how to do well in law school. It’s a skill, and it takes time to learn. People who do well in law school figure out who did well in classes before them and ask them how to take tests.

Oh, and 12 hour days does not mean just spending 12 hours at the law school, chatting with friends or watching Hulu. It means really working for 12 hours. And you need to do this for months without a break. This, by the way, is extremely difficult.

Some people don’t need to study for 12 hours a day. But those people are really special, and most people are not that kind of special. Twelve hours is pretty much a guarantee of good grades. Of course, if you go to Harvard, 12 hour days are not necessary.

So unless you are a male, or you are a female who is willing and able to spend 12 hours a day studying for tests, or you have a large trust fund, or you're going to Harvard or Stanford or Yale, I don’t recommend law school.

Of course, some women work full-time. Or they think they don’t want to have kids. But most women, no matter how undesirable childbearing might sound when they begin law school, eventually want to have kids. And that usually leads to wanting to spend time at home with them, particularly if the husband has a full-time job. So don’t count on always being able to pick up and get whatever full-time job comes your way.

Another option is to delay childbearing until you are settled in your career. This is a good option, if you can delay childbearing, because if you already know what you’re doing, employers will want you. But who wants to stave off the baby hungriness for a few years while you wait to get settled in your career? Why do that when you could just take care of your career by kicking butt in law school?

I really like my life as a stay-at-home mom. And I don’t know that I can say that I regret going to law school, because it changed the way I think about life in invaluable ways. I’m also very lucky to be married to an amazing person who is willing to pay off my student loans. At the same time, I wish I could work a couple of days a week to earn some money, have a break from my wonderful daughter, and improve my legal skills. I keep applying, and one of these days I think an employer will recognize how awesome I am and hire me. But I don’t want others to make the same mistakes I did, so I’m trying to at least give them fair warning.

Pride and Shame

2011-02-16T13:25:00.000-08:00

Things that make me feel foolish:

Yesterday I got really frustrated with Summer. I recently heard someone say that she believes in slamming the door when she's angry because it makes her feel better. I was in the kitchen, so I slammed the oven door and somehow smashed my pinky finger. Yep, it hurt and I was mad. Then I remembered a New York Times article about how swearing makes women (but not men) feel better. So I swore. Intentionally. For the first time since tenth grade (12 years ago, if you're curious). Hopefully it'll be the last time, too. My finger felt better, but probably just because my idiocy was distracting me from the pain.
Today, after working up a sweat in the gym, I went over to the spot on the floor where my stuff was, picked up my hoodie, and pulled it over my (sweaty) face. Only, it felt really big and unusually soft. Yeah, not my hoodie. I really hope it didn't belong to the guy who gave me a funny look as I rapidly gathered up my things and left.
Here is a list of things I've left on top of my car prior to driving: a cinnamon roll, a cup of water, a large stack of important papers, a set of keys, and Summer. Just kidding about Summer. But I did drop her when I slipped on black ice the other day. Still waiting for that maternal protective instinct to kick in.

Things that make me feel awesome:

I'm sticking to our food budget. It's weekly instead of monthly now, so the plan is to do the bulk of the shopping at Winco once a week and fill in the gaps here and there (especially with Buy-Low's Wednesday produce). It helps that Winco is so far away, and that the people who shop at those stores usually look at least as frumpy as I do (I don't know why that helps, but it does). It's only been three weeks, but I think this is a plan I can actually stick to. Unlike couponing, which makes me want to crawl under the bed and never come out.
I have drastically lowered expectations. Yeah, I've heard a million times that if I'm just doing the best I can, I'm doing all right. I guess I just need reminders that even though I can't do a full Insanity work-out, if I just do the warm-up, that's awesome! If I don't feel like cleaning the entire house but I do the dishes, go me! I'll might never be as skinny as Shakira, but if I make a batch of cinnamon rolls and I avoid eating them all myself, that's a victory!
I think I'm less judgey than I used to be. In church last Sunday our awesome Stake Relief Society president gave a lesson about garments. One girl raised her hand and asked about all those girls who wore leggings under short skirts and whether or not that was that okay. Sister Hicks said that that was something that was a personal matter and every woman just had to figure it out for herself.* She added, "Everyone does different things. If you see people doing something that you would do differently, don't judge them. They are good and righteous and daughters of God." It was the only time she got sort of stern. I can remember my first years at BYU, and I would look at others' clothing choices and decide that they were wrong - too tight, too low cut, too sheer, etc. It's hard to love others when you can't stop condemning their clothes. I'm sure I still judge based on appearance, but I'm much more interested now in what people are feeling and thinking and doing.

*The honor code says differently, I know. I pretty much hate BYU's honor code. The dress and grooming part of it. Another blog post for another day.

Untitled

2011-02-14T22:16:00.000-08:00

My family tree is a grab bag of mental illness. You name it, someone in my family has probably been diagnosed with it. Once, I was talking to my dad about that and he said, "You know, Dorothy, there is a good chance you have some sort of mental illness. If you think that might be the case, it's okay. We'll work it out. There is no shame in that."

My dad is really great.

I don't think I'm clinically depressed. But I do sometimes wonder if it's harder for me to avoid feeling depressed than it is for others. I've always had to put forth a lot of effort, it seems.

Before I became a mom, if I was feeling depressed, I pulled back from the world. I dropped everything and went to the temple at three in the afternoon. Or I spend a few hours reading scriptures in a special place where no one could find me. I wrote in my journal a lot too. Going to the gym for a couple of hours was also really nice.

How do you do things like that when you're a mom? And your husband studies/slaves at law review a lot and you have no money for babysitters? (And wouldn't it be weird to get a babysitter so you can write in your journal in the canyon?) Am I just being incredibly unrealistic and spoiled to think that I need several hours of alone time every day to function? Summer is twenty-one months old. It's been almost two years, and I feel like I've no made progress in figuring out that tricky balance - making my needs as important as hers.

Last week, I got to see some great friends from law school and we talked about being moms. One of my friends said, "If I don't work two days a week, I get so depressed."

Don't you love it when people are honest? I do. I love that talking about the difficulties people have with motherhood is okay. Yay, I'm not the only one!

Sometimes I wish I could go back to the times before I was a mom. But I can't, and even if I could I wouldn't because I am crazy in love my daughter. I have to remember it's not a matter of whether or not to be a mom, it's learning how to be a mom the right way.

I'm working on it. I've checked out daycare, I've discovered the inconsistency of babyswapping (although I will sing its praises if you give me the chance), I applied for the one part-time job that was advertised, I've offered attorneys my own part-time work, etc. I have a research job, but it's on an as-needed basis. Anyway, I think I'll figure it out.

But in the meantime, I struggle. Sorry this isn't one of those blogs that makes Mormon motherhood look like shiny happiness all the time. It might be for some moms. And motherhood is often bliss for me too. But today, not so much.

Until I watched a couple episodes of Modern Family. Is that the answer? Really funny TV?

I guess this is just a post to remind me that I need to be more careful. I need to plan better and make sure that I'm taking time for myself. Yeah. That's it.

The end.

Discipline

2011-02-14T07:33:00.000-08:00

I know Summer shouldn't be allowed to get into the fridge, open an egg carton, grab an egg, and crack it on her highchair, all while I'm on the phone.

But sometimes I'm just so impressed with her that I can't feign disappointment. An unbroken yolk? You go girl.

P.S. Yes, we're eating the egg.

True Love

2011-02-08T23:37:00.000-08:00

Here they are: the people that I love most. Families are awesome.

Accepting the Things I Cannot Change

2011-02-07T23:12:00.000-08:00

Lately, I was reminded of the serenity prayer: God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Trite? Probably. Helpful when applied? Yes.

I know I have things I should probably accept and stop worrying about, but lately I've been thinking about how awesome it is that I'm not worrying about something.

Nathaniel is better than I am at most things.

A sampling: Nathaniel placed much higher than I did in the Moot Court competition. He gets better grades. He is more organized. He speaks Russian better than I speak Romanian or Spanish. He is better and more consistent at cleaning. He folds clothes better than I do.

And my favorite: He does Summer's hair better than I do. Yes, try as I might, I can't do my daughter's hair very well.

I always thought that when I had a girl I would just learn to do her hair and I would make it beautiful every day. I didn't anticipate a wiggly toddler with a low threshold for pain and me as a mother with little patience for learning to do hair.

Maybe this is something I could change. Maybe I should add a line: "Help me start with the most important changes." Sometimes I cringe when I see Summer's bad haircut (yes, I cut her hair) and accompanying lack of bows or clips or flowers or ponytails, but most of the time I just see pretty, straight, strong brown hair. Actually, when I look at Summer, what I usually see are her eyes - full of mischief or questioning or happiness or love or pain or excitement. And sometimes a blank stare. But no matter what her hair looks like, I think she's beautiful and I'd rather show her maps in our atlas and tell her stories of ships sailing across the sea than wrestle with elastic bands. And let's face it, I should probably get organized before I worry about pigtails.

I think it's wonderful that Nathaniel is so good at so many things. I'm not going to let that fact make me feel superfluous, because I'm not. If it weren't for me, Nathaniel would starve.

Life Is Not Fair

2011-02-05T15:31:00.000-08:00

Today I heard about another mom who is going back to school to get her degree. I want to do that! I want to got to classes and discuss interesting things and learn more! I'll even do correspondence classes. Sign me up!

The problem is that I already have a Bachelor's. And a Juris Doctorate. And when you've got tens of thousands of dollars you need to pay off for the education you have, there is no justifying plunking down another five hundred for that awesome Shakespeare class.

Why didn't anybody tell me I would want to keep going to school? Maybe then I wouldn't have been in such a rush to finish.

Another Bad Mom Card?

2011-01-25T17:46:00.000-08:00

Sometimes Summer bugs me. There are a lot of great things about her: she never had separation anxiety, she eats veggies, she says the most hilarious things, etc. Of course I adore her and I'm so grateful to be her mom, but every once in a while, she bugs.

Like when she made me pick up a ton of little ice pieces up off the floor of Costa Vida. Or when she tells me to put away the toaster or close a cupboard. I can't tell her to mind her own business because these are things I should do, so I have to just do them. And it's annoying because I was planning on closing the stupid cupboards and putting the toaster away, but I don't like doing it at the command of a 20-month old.

Another thing that bugs me: she drinks my Slim-Fast. I can't drink it in front of her without her having at least a sip, which makes it hard to know how much I drank. (By the way, I'm not trying to lose weight, I just like Slim-Fast [okay, that's a lie.])

Tonight, when I got home from the gym, I made Summer some cinnamon toast and myself a slim-fast. She was really into her cinnamon toast until she accidentally tore it apart, which always makes her super mad (yes, another thing that bugs). I try to ignore her fits, but I don't always succeed. I offered her some Slim-Fast, which stopped the tears immediately. As she drank it, I had some of her cinnamon toast. Pretty soon, I had eaten all the cinnamon toast and she drank my entire shake. It's like it was her plan all along. Or was it my plan all along?

Anyway, yes, for dinner I gave my daughter cinnamon toast and a Creamy Chocolate high protein Slim Fast shake - complete with whey protein isolate, gum arabic, and acesulfame potassium. Am I awesome or what?

Proof:

The end. Don't click on that read more thing. Sorry about that.

Reslut

2011-01-19T10:36:00.001-08:00

My favorite typo. I also really like "abou tit."

Gender Roles

2011-01-11T12:59:00.000-08:00

Summer is a very maternal person. Or maybe she is simply responding to the nurturing part of her feminine nature. Or maybe we have unconsciously indoctrinated her with traditional gender roles and she knows that she's socially expected to change diapers. Either way, we are all very relieved that this bee's diaper has been taken care of:

Because You Know You Want to Watch a Music Video or Two

2011-01-04T22:25:00.000-08:00

Tonight, as I was driving home from the gym, I was listening to our local top 40 station. Yep, I like the Top 40 stuff. Actually, since Summer started repeated the words she hears in radio music and the radio is now set to Classical 98.1 whenever she's in the car, I would say I love Top 40. It's my little adult indulgence and, now that I think about it, it should really motivate me to go the gym more often. Sure, by the time Nathaniel gets home and I can actually go to the gym, it's dark and icy and only seven degrees, but I can listen to all the Lady Gaga I want.

Anyway, as I was listening to the radio, I started to think of European music. I have always really liked it (I wrote "loved," but then deleted it because someone who loves something actually makes an effort to experience it, which is not the case when it comes to me and music one would hear in a club in Munich [ps why do we spell München Munich?]). I know this is very poser-y of me to say, but Euro music sounds so sophisticated and exotic and cool to me. I will never actually go to a club and be hip like that, so I experience it vicariously through the music. I loved European techno-type stuff when I visited my English nanny when I was in high school, I loved it when I lived in Spain as an undergraduate, and I really loved it when I was a missionary in Romania and I heard it everywhere - in the internet cafes, the buses, the grocery store, the cabs, people's houses, etc.

As I listened to the radio, I thought about manele (Roma, [or, if you're politically incorrect, gypsy]music) and how much I like it even though it's considered filthy by a lot of Romanians. I decided that I really need to brush up on my Romanian for our trip out there this Summer. I thought of an Elder on my mission who just today made me sick with jealousy when he posted a bunch of pictures on Facebook of his recent trip to Romania, and how I can't wait to go back.

I started listening to the song that was playing, and realized that I was driving slower so I could listen to the whole thing. When there was a yellow light, I slowed down and made no effort to make it before it turned red. It was in that delightful Euro style, something unusual for this station. I started memorizing some words so I could figure out what it was when I got home.

Guess what? It's Romanian. I feel like an idiot for not having heard it before. The music video of the song has 90 million views on YouTube. If you don't mind watching some hot chick prancing around in wellies and her underpants on the beach, check out the music video. I actually really like it. Except, you know, the big ad during the final moments when the hero and heroine unite.

(Did you watch it? Did you notice how the woman in this video is gorgeous and the guy inspires a rousing "meh?" And he's wearing red pants and a vest with some shirt he got for free at his work holiday raffle underneath it? Welcome to Romania.)

When I was in Romania, the big hit song was Dragoste din Tei, which, if you watch the hilarious music video I've embedded below, might sound familiar because T.I. and Rhianna borrowed from good ol' Romanian OZone. It's weird to me and kind of sad that Romania has moved on, if that makes sense. Not that I consciously expected the country to avoid progression after I left, but I thought I understood a lot of its culture. And perhaps I did, but the fact that a huge international hit originated in Romania a year and a half ago and I just heard it tonight tells me that I definitely don't know the country anymore. But it's all good. I can only keep up with so much pop culture in a lifetime. Plus, we're going back this summer.

Anyway, enjoy this video!

Resolved

2011-01-01T00:07:00.000-08:00

I am going to smile at a stranger every day this year.

Bad Mom Cards - Christmas Edition

2010-12-24T22:35:00.000-08:00

Have you heard about Bad Mom Cards? They're a group of cartoons from the New Yorker, with depictions of bad moms and an explanation of the deed they did that was so terrible to merit a collectible card. One says "#35 Martina F.: Didn't put up St. Patrick cards one year." Another says "#61 Deborah Z: Has never even tried to make Play-Dough from scratch." My personal favorite is #89 - I don't want to spoil it so you have to click over and look at it. The illustrations are hilarious, too.

I love them because it's a good way to get rid of mom guilt. All moms make mistakes, and the things we do that we feel the most guilty about are probably not a big deal. When I do something worthy of a bad mom card, I remember those cards, have a laugh about it, and try to do better next time.

So here's mine: "#96 Dorothy W.: Did not get child a stocking for Christmas."

I feel so bad about it I kind of want to cry. I really meant to get her a stocking. I planned on getting her a really cute one and ironing on a pretty "S" and filling it with cool candies and little toys and fruits and nuts. But I didn't like any of the ones I saw when I went shopping for one a couple of days after Thanksgiving. Then I contemplated sewing one myself (I've never really sewed anything in my life and I don't have a sewing machine, so who knows why I thought that might be an option). Then, these past couple of days, I planned on doing it for sure. But Nathaniel needed the car to get to school to work on his paper, and by the time he got home it was dark and cold and snowy outside and who wants to go to Walmart then? So today, I thought I'd get one after we got to Nathaniel's parent's house. But by the time we got to Farmington, ate Christmas Eve bread and cheese dinner, and filled up the gas tank, Walmart was closed. It was 9:20 PM on Christmas Eve, so I wasn't surprised. I just drove through the parking lot, feeling tears well up in my eyes, imagining my daughter who has been a model child this past year waking up on Christmas morning to see everyone else joyfully dump out the contents of their stockings and then realizing there wasn't one for her.

So I went to 711. I figured that even if Summer couldn't have the beautiful stocking I'd envisioned, she could at least have some good candy. I bought her Pop Tarts, Pringles, Nerds, honey roasted peanuts, Ritter Sport chocolates (okay, those were at least partially for me), TicTacs, and some of those dumb plastic bracelets that change shape. I went home and put it into a plastic Christmas bag we used to transport my homemade crackers. So lame.

As I wrapped Summer's Pop Tarts, I thought what a bad mom I was and remembered the Bad Mom Cards. Okay, so it's really lame I didn't get it together enough to get Summer a freaking stocking. But when I ask Summer what Christmas is, she says, "Jesus burfday." When I ask Summer what song she wants me to sing her, she says, "Jesus Christmas music." She likes the trees and the ornaments and the lights, but I think I've done a good job teaching her that the reason behind Christmas is the Savior, and it doesn't matter if her stocking is a used plastic bag.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Brown-Eyed Girl

2010-12-23T17:44:00.000-08:00

Summer is constantly sleep-deprived, and she has the tired-looking eyes too prove it. Today, I told Nathaniel she took a three-hour nap (turns out I was wrong, but that's irrelevant). Nathaniel came home and after playing with her for a bit, said, "Let me look at your eyes, Summer."

Summer obediently turned toward Nathaniel and said, "They're brown."

Like, "Dad, don't waste your time. I know this."

She's really cute.

Patronizing Emails

2010-12-07T18:49:00.000-08:00

When we moved into our apartment, the walls had not been patched or painted and looked pretty ugly. The carpets had not been cleaned and looked awful. I sent an email to the landlady letting her know that we thought the apartment was junk and she never responded. Four months later (yesterday), I got an email from my landlady's local "manager" (i.e. the person who gets cheaper rent because he's willing to deal with disgruntled tenants so that the landlady doesn't have to). I've been debating how to respond. I can write back the little helper and tell him this is ridiculous. I can write the landlady and tell her this is ridiculous. Or, I could post the email on our blog and tell all of you that this is ridiculous. I think I might do all three, but here's to the last option:

Hello Fantastic Tenants,

Just got off the line with [landlady] today. There are some units that are lacking extra paint to match the current walls, and as such, lack the ability to cover up any needed cover-ups! As such, she felt it most efficacious to have any of you who are need of paint take a small one or two inch section of paint from an unobtrusive spot in your unit to the nearest paint matching store (Walmart, Home Depot, Lowes, etc...) and buy a quart of matching paint. Then, send your receipt to her with your next months rent and she will reimburse you by taking off that money from your NEXT months rent. She feels this will be a better process than having a paint shop have to come out and get a sample form each unit and then provide the paint, as that would be MUCH more expensive! Let me know if any of you have any questions. Thanks for being so great, and have a VERY Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas indeed. I can't wait to spend it scraping paint samples off the wall, matching it at Lowes, and painting our piece of crap walls with it. At least this alternative is MUCH cheaper for the landlady!

The Story of My Life

2010-12-02T22:14:00.000-08:00

It's very easy, if you are a stay-at-home mom, to completely forget how to talk to people who are not parents. My life has exhilarating moments, heartbreaking moments, hilarious moments, and tenderly sweet moments. And nearly all of them revolve around my daughter. If I'm not careful, here is what a conversation with a non-parent looks like:

Me: Summer did the cutest thing today! She picked up a stick and said, 'Question mark.' I looked at it and it totally looked like a question mark.

Non-parent: Oh, cute.

Me: Oh, and today I started singing Christmas music to her, and she looked at me and stuck her fingers in both ears.

Non-parent: Ha, that's hilarious.

Me: I know, right? She loves Christmas music, though, and she loves it when I sing it to her at night. When I'm putting her to bed, she always wants me to sing to her in the chair in her room. So I sit down and ask her what song she wants me to sing. Tonight, she said, "Jesus," so I started singing her a Primary song about Jesus, but then she interrupted me and said, "Christmas." So I sang Away in a Manger and Silent Night, and she loved it.

Non-parent: That's so sweet.

Me: Oh, she can say so many things! When we read No More Monkeys Jumping on the Bed, Summer always supplies all the 'No more monkeys jumping on the bed' parts. And, when I was singing the Dora theme song, after I sang, 'Swiper no swiping! Swiper no swiping!' she said, 'Oh, man!' I hadn't even sung that with her before! It was soooo cute!

Non-parent: Awesome.

Me: But being a parent can be rough. Today, as I was putting her down for a nap, she grabbed both of these huge, ridiculous earrings I was wearing and pulled as hard as she could. I yelled at her to stop, but she didn't and just yanked them out of my ears.

Non-parent: (horrified) Oh, gosh!

Me: Oh, it wasn't that bad. She didn't rip a hole in my ear or anything. And she's usually really sweet. She is teething right now, and it's unusually rough on her. She's getting three of her smaller molars. All at once.

Non-parent: Oh.

Me: But she pooped in the toilet, so that's good! Before she refused to sit on it, but I guess all she needed was a Dora potty seat cover, 'cause now she wants to sit on it all the time!

Non-parent: Huh.

Me: So, yeah, being a mom is great. Um, so, how is school going?

I know that reciting all the goings-on with Summer does little to foster a relationship with another person. I used to be good at making friends and conversation, but I am so rusty I fear I've lost the art. The sad thing is that it was a talent I had to work for. In middle school I had a reputation for being stuck-up, but the truth was I was deeply insecure and scared to talk to people I didn't already know, and when I did talk to people I knew I pretty much only talked about myself, because that's what insecure people do. I got better at that, but now I'm afraid my social skills are the same as they were when I was thirteen and I got a boyfriend and broke up with him the same day. I hope to get better at it, but it's easier to say nothing, so that's usually what I wind up doing. That or talk about Summer's Dora potty.

Blogging is sort of similar. I haven't done it as much lately because I've been insanely busy with work and raising a kid (and baking mini banana cream pies). I feel bad that Summer is progressing so much and I have done so little to document it, but I'm not too interested in writing a milestone blog, because I know they can be uninteresting to read if the kid isn't related to you. And while I can turn Summer's funny/sad/cute stories into something funny and worth reading, I don't have the time. (I have to make mini banana cream pies! And eat all of them even though I made them for the ladies in my ward whom I visit teach!)

So that pretty much sums up my life: hanging out with Summer which is awesome (except for today when she was awful because of her teething), working, and baking. Hopefully soon I'll get the guts and find the time to make new friends and write awesome blog posts, too. Or maybe I'll get the guts to write the posts I want to write and not worry about what people will think. Or maybe I'll just realize that the internet is a colossal waste of my time and I'll disconnect it and live a very happy life. Who knows?

P.S. I represented a client in court for the first time yesterday. It was....okay.

Creepy Jimmy Wales

2010-11-24T06:08:00.000-08:00

Every year when Wikipedia asks me to donate money I get creeped out by Jimmy Wales and his personal appeals. What's with his super intense pictures? Am I supposed to be so awed by his image that I'll want to donate to Wikipedia? Feels like a lame attempt at a personality cult. Or it could be Big Brother watching me read Wikipedia articles. Creepy.

Playing In the Leaves

2010-11-07T17:35:00.000-08:00

This is a very Summeresque picture: super pensive.

Healthy Food Ideas

2010-11-02T12:00:00.000-07:00

I'm usually a pretty healthy eater. Some of my in-laws may laugh at this statement, because I do have a sweet tooth. But generally, I try to pick fruits and veggies over bacon cheeseburgers and hot dogs.

This time of the year, though, it gets hard. I eat low-fat, minimally sweetened yogurt with frozen blueberries and it makes me so cold I want some hot chocolate to wash it down. Last year I ate a lot of pot roasts and roasted chicken, and while those are awesome, I'm looking for some healthier ideas. Anyone got any ideas for warm healthy food? It'd be great to have both quick little meals and recipes. I aim to eat one fruit, one vegetable, and one protein at every meal, so anything that helps with that goal will be cherished forever.

In case you're curious, here are some thing I've been eating:

Baked sweet potatoes (although regular baked potatoes are awesome and I still eat them)
Red peppers at breakfast
A healthy version of cole slaw to go with soups
Lots of homemade soups - lentil, tomato, African peanut...yeah, kinda sick of soup.
Frozen veggies sautéed with some grana padano
Boiled eggs (trying not to think of that one office episode...)
Roasted acorn squash
Whole-wheat pasta with a quick homemade tomato sauce and fancy Kraft parmesan in the green shakey can.

I also have big plans to make these crust-less quiche/frittata thingies and freeze them.

Adoption

2010-10-24T20:09:00.001-07:00

I didn’t give up a baby for adoption. I probably won’t adopt any kids. But adoption is such an important part of my life that I can’t imagine where or who I’d be without it.

I know very little about my biological grandmother. I know her last name. I know she had red hair. I know she passed away many years ago. I know that she was in a mental hospital around the time my dad was adopted. And I know that she made what I can only imagine was an unspeakably difficult decision: the decision to give my father up for adoption.

My dad never shared my curiosity about his birth mother. To him, he has a mom and a dad who both had brown hair, who were (and are) good strong Mormons of pioneer stock, who were poor but gave more love than I can fathom. My grandmother adored children and took in those who needed her love and care. My dad was one of those kids and was so blessed to be adopted by Elmer and Tressa Hatch, of Springville Utah. Grandma and Grandpa Hatch gave my dad the blessing of being a Mormon, of examples of hard work and sacrifice, of love and kindness, of a happy childhood, of unwavering support and confidence, of adoring brothers and sisters, and, later, loving grandparents to his children. They gave me the blessing of the opportunity to learn about the LDS Church, the blessing of their examples, my pioneer ancestry, and their love. Because of them my dad is the amazing dad he is. I can’t imagine what my dad’s life would have been like had he not been adopted. I thank God for the red-haired woman who let my dad be raised by grandma and grandpa.

My mom did not have such a happy childhood. When she was nineteen, she found herself pregnant and unmarried, with no chance to marry the father of the child she was carrying. There was a woman - a kind and loving source of strength to my mother since she was a child - who was LDS and who suggested my mom give the baby up for adoption through LDS Adoption Services. My mother should really be telling this story. Anyway, the point is that my mom started going to church to see how her baby would be raised. Later, she was baptized.

I am so grateful to be a Mormon. It is because of my faith that I have everything that is dear to me, and it is because of adoption that I have my faith. So thank goodness for adoption.

Study Music

2010-10-22T07:43:00.000-07:00

The Rules

2010-10-20T13:51:00.000-07:00

In our house, we have rules. They're not too strict, and they're not written in stone - or even written down, until now - but they exist. And here they are.

The Rules:

1. Hot dogs, canned pasta, and boxed mac and cheese are not consumed here. But ice cream, cookies, apple crisp, pie, etc. are encouraged. By Dorothy and Summer.

2. No Disney. Veggie Tales, Sesame Street, and Teletubbies are acceptable.

3. You may not mix up there, their, and there. The punishment for breaking this rule is merciless teasing.
UPDATE: I thought I fixed the theres, but apparently I didn't. Feel free to tease me.

4. Back up your argument with sound reasoning. Logical fallacies, formal or informal are not tolerated. This includes the appeal to emotion.

5. No eating outside the kitchen if you're under three feet tall. There is no punishment for breaking this rule.

6. No legalese or otherwise pretentious language.

7. You may not exit the shower without drying off first.

8. Be nice. To everyone. (We're working on this, especially in the contexts of driving and nursery.)

9. Get the amount of sleep appropriate for your age group.

10. Work hard, unless your name is Summer or you're having a bad day.

It's been so interesting to watch our little family culture develop. There are so many rules I'd like to be there but are not, like "read lots and lots of books" or "never leave crap out on the kitchen counter." I want to do a lot of things better and keep improving our family and develop great traditions. But I like us, as imperfect as we are. And, as silly as some of our rules are, I like them, too.

I'm curious - what are your family rules?

Off

2010-10-17T09:10:00.000-07:00

Summer read her first word today. She was sitting on a chair playing with a CD case for Microsoft Home and Office saying "off...off...off...on off, on off." Dorothy got really excited when she realized that Summer was was pointing at the word "office" while she was saying this. I wasn't sure if this was for real, so I got out the "Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed" book (apparently this is where she learned to read the word "off" in the first place) and made Summer point to "off." She did it! So, little Summer can read "off."

We reenacted part of the event for you:

Nathaniel's Weekly Update -- Installment 2 (last one was a year ago)

2010-10-09T19:09:00.000-07:00

This was supposed to be the coolest week ever, and it ended up being super poopy. Let me tell you about it.

I didn't have any classes this week. Sweet, right? Yeah, should have been sweet. Last Sunday night Dorothy and I, in our "weekly" planning session (that happens more like once every four months), decided that I would spend the whole day at school Monday through Thursday. This would give me plenty of time to get caught up in my classes and maybe give me a fighting chance to pass my finals. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were all going to be spent chilling with some of our favorite friends in California. Seems like a great plan, doesn't it? Work really hard for the first half of the week, play really hard for the second half.

Well, Monday I spent pretending to be a research assistant by trying to do some research (I figured that was a pretty good way to pretend). I figured I had about 10 hours worth of work to get done and that I could be finished with it by the end of Monday. Well, plot spoiler, it's 8 pm on Saturday night and I'm still sitting in the law library trying to divine a better method for pretending to be a research assistant. So, what happened in between?

Dorothy got strep throat on Tuesday. Yeah, I thought only little kids got that. Turns out (according to the doctor), kids Summer's age almost never get it but adults are fair game. Unfortunately, Summer, while protected from the awful hell Dorothy has been going through, got something that is apparently not strep throat but that causes a fever, coughing, runny nose, ear infection and tonsil swelling. So, I spent the bulk of Tuesday through Thursday taking care of my girls. When I wasn't doing that, I pretended to be a research assistant again.

We cancelled our would-have-been-awesome trip to California. Instead, I spent all of Friday in the library playing pretend. Friday night, Dorothy and I went and watched the Social Network, which I 100%ly recommend. And today (Saturday), I've been alone with my self in the library. Over the last couple of hours I've noticed this nagging pain in my throat. Can't wait to get diagnosed on Monday. Oh, and not only have I not got caught up on my classes, I haven't done any of the reading for Monday.

Exciting News! - for people who care where Nathaniel is going to work next summer

2010-09-27T16:12:00.000-07:00

Nathaniel accepted an offer with Jones Day in DC! Nathaniel loved the firm and is excited to spend ten weeks there next summer. The interviewing process, from what I could tell, was a lot like dating. The law students check out the firms and the firms check out the law students, while both sides do their best to impress. Of course, unlike dating, the firms have significantly greater bargaining power. Or maybe that is like dating if you're dating out of your league?Anyway, if they like his work as a summer associate, they'll ask him to come back after he graduates. If not, we're in trouble! But we won't worry about that right now. We're just grateful everything worked out and we're excited to go back to DC this summer.

Muzzle

2010-09-09T23:41:00.000-07:00

Ready for some random thoughts? Let’s do this.

Yesterday in WalMart, Summer wiggled out of her lap belt. I slowly stopped the cart as she stood up. I told her to sit down. She promptly sat down on the back rest, out of my reach. As I was walking around the cart to pick her up, she fell back into the main part of the cart. Her screams were deafening. I counted about five people who saw the whole thing. As I consoled Summer, I wondered how it was possible that I am allowed to be a parent. As in, shouldn’t they have a class on how to properly strap your child into a shopping cart before you can be allowed to have complete responsibility for a human being?
Summer was fine.

I didn’t get a job I really wanted. I’m okay with that for two reasons: first, there were 73 applicants, so they didn’t even look at people like me who don’t have bar results yet. Even if I really wanted to take the rejection personally, I couldn't. Second, though the hours would be flexible, it was full-time, which would have been rough. Staying home is great in a lot of ways, especially now that Nathaniel decided to take it a little easier at school and give me a break from Summer for a couple of hours every day. I have the best husband in the world. Sorry, TAMN. It’s true.

You know how people who cook fall into two categories, bakers and, um, cooks? Well, they do, and I decided I’m a baker. Cooking is great because I can eat whatever I want and it provides a fantastic sense of accomplishment. But when I measure baking powder and sift flour, when I create the perfect pastry cream or crust, when I pop something into the oven and then check it for that golden-brown color, all the craziness of life just fizzles away and my mind is clear and I am calm. Way less stressful than, say, making lasagna.

Speaking of suspect self-classifications, I love this article from the New York Times. I remember in junior high trying to decide if I was right- or left-brained, and thinking that I was a little bit of both. I think I was the only one in my class who said that. The teacher even tried to teach to our supposed right- and left-brained tendencies. Same for a high-school physics teacher who gave us a quiz to figure out what our learning styles were. I just decided that I would be different from everyone else in my group and be auditory.

We are sort of decorating our apartment, and it definitely looks better than any other apartment we’ve been in. Of course, that’s not saying much. I don’t have a color scheme or a theme or any words on the walls, but we do have a filing cabinet that we’re using as a side table, and I did make an ottoman. With Velcro. It’s ghetto. I want to take a picture of our little living area and post it, but I want it to be “finished” before I do, and considering our moving history and how often I have days in which I do pretty much nothing, finished will never happen. But here is a link to the sofa we bought, if you’re interested. We paid 1/7^th of the price. And there was a big rip in the middle seam but Nathaniel bought heavy-duty thread and an upholstery needle and sewed it up perfectly and it looks awesome. See? I really do have the best husband in the world.

I still like the Smashing Pumpkins. Muzzle is my favorite song. It has been since I was in eighth grade. I also still wear t-shirts, jeans, and converse like I did in the eighth grade. Luckily, I don't live in Vernal, Utah anymore. So things do change for the better.

Um, What's a Blog?

2010-08-22T20:26:00.000-07:00

So in the past few months, I've flown to Utah, taken the bar, flown back to DC, driven to Utah, moved into an apartment, and supported a husband in his first week of law review. During that time, I've completely forgotten how to live my life. Today I made crappy no-bakes. I haven't cooked dinner in a week. And I haven't blogged. What kind of SAHM am I?

So here is a Summer update. She's basically the cutest, sweetest, funnest (yes, that's a word), smartest, and all around bestest (also a word) little girl in the whole world. We just adore her. She says everything now, which makes communicating with Nathaniel difficult. We have to spell words like outside and chalk and trailer (we got a bike trailer for her). Her favorite things are trash, trucks, birds, dolls, and ice cream. I had no idea a fifteen-month old girl could be so obsessed with trucks. We put hers in her crib, along with all her stuffed animals, and I swear she just plays with it for half an hour before she wakes up. And if she's in her carseat and can see trucks, she's happy.

Here are a few pictures. Please don't make fun of her hair. It's a sensitive subject for me. I don't know what to do with it. Any ideas would be appreciated.

My brother bought a drum set for his daughter and Summer had a go:

Summer really loves the bunny:

For the first time ever, Summer ran away from the camera rather than trying to grab it. But it's okay. She came back.

Yep, we're keeping her.

Slightly Disappointed

2010-06-28T18:39:00.000-07:00

Ever since Summer was teeny tiny, I have desperately wanted to know what she was thinking. So I did everything I could to encourage her to talk as soon as possible. I read to her all the time. I talked to her even when she was a blob and she had no idea that my voice was in any way distinguishable from the sound of a vacuum cleaner. I took Omega 3 supplements.

And I got lucky. Summer talks. All the time. And do you want to know what's going on in the head of this little girl?

"Button. Light. Flower. Button. Hi. Ouch. No. Eyes. Ice. Clock. Dot. Button. Bug. Ball. Ball. Ball. Pool. Dog. Kitty kitty. Trees. Shoes. Daddy. Dance. Block. Button. Light. Yes. Ball. Dog. Danny (the Schaerr's son). Eat. Apa. Baby. Down. Up. Button. Toes. Poo. Bye. Out. Dot. Book. Door. Moon. Dirt. Hat. Hair. Earring. Nose. Button..."

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe, "Mommy, I love you. You are so good at doing what you do and I really appreciate it." Or "A couple of years ago, I was living with Our Father in Heaven and He said..." Or even, "Mama."

But random nouns and prepositions are cool, too.

Neglect

2010-06-21T06:31:00.000-07:00

Dear Blog,

I've been a bad blogger as of late. I've been neglecting you. I'm sorry.

I have a good excuse, though. I'm studying for the bar. It's really hard because I'm doing it my myself, instead of paying thousands of dollars for a class. And if I don't pass, I'll die of shame. So I won't really be spending much time with you until after I take it, which happens the last week of July.

Don't feel bad. You're certainly not the only area of my life that I've been neglecting. I haven't exercised for months. The only pants I can wear have holes or were made for doing yoga.

So don't feel bad.

Love, Dorothy

13 Months

2010-06-02T10:15:00.000-07:00

Summer is 13 months old today. Martha, the woman we're staying with, told Nathaniel that little Summer has grown a ton this past month. I didn't realize it before, but now I can see it. Here is a sampling of her milestones:

Walking. This girl is walking pretty well. When we got here, it was a few toddles and lots of falls. Now, her falls are more rare, and therefore funnier. She can also go pretty fast, which is great for those "I'm going to get you" games.

Talking. Summer talks. The cutest thing is the talking that just sounds like she's speaking her own foreign language, complete with lots of different sounds and voice inflections. But she also says several words, including ball, tree, "what's that?" eyes, button, dog, eat, book, dot, no, yes, clock, and apa (water in Romanian). She understands plenty of words and phrases as well, like "give mommy the _______", "turn around," fingers, toes, chair, tongue, "where do you want to go?" "give ________ a kiss," "where's Summer?" (after which she covers her face with her hands" and "I'm going to get you." It's fun stuff to see her grow.

Um, I don't know what other milestones there are besides mobility and speech.

Anyways, this girl loves to move. People always says stuff like, "wow, she's a wiggly one," or "I don't think I've ever seen her still." We use Nathaniel's big leather belt to strap her into her high chair, which sometimes keeps her from getting one leg out of the high chair or attempting to crawl onto the kitchen table. Now that she can walk, there is a lot of moving going around. I don't really mind it, except during Church. I think we're going to start to lay down the law. I feel really bad for anyone who wanted a pleasant Sacrament Meeting.

She loves books. I frequently find her just sitting down, flipping the pages and pointing at the pictures, while talking to herself in that special language of hers.

This girl is adorable. She just has the sweetest smile that brightens everyone's day. Summer is a joy.

Pictures Later.

The Chair

2010-05-14T06:18:00.000-07:00

Isn't this chair awesome? Martha, the woman we're staying with, received it from her grandmother.

This is Summer's favorite spot.

Lunch with John Paul Stevens

2010-04-30T13:14:00.000-07:00

I'm leaving for a cross-country road-trip with my Mom tomorrow. She's helping us drive our car to DC, and Nathaniel is going to fly out next Tuesday with Summer. So we're super busy with packing and getting things ready, and what better time to blog?

During placement break my 1L year, I took a trip with my grandma to meet John Paul Stevens. Well, to have lunch with him. The first time I met him I was in high school. He took me in his office and I informed him I wanted to go into politics and that I was really impressed with the big books in his office. I'm sure I made a great impression.

The next time was better. I got to hear oral arguments in two cases: one was Microsoft v. AT&T and the other was a Fifth Amendment case. Justices Alito and John Roberts looked straight at me, probably wondering what I was doing in Ms. Stevens' seat.

We sat next to the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Brazil. My mom informed her that men in Brazil treat women poorly. The Chief Justice heartily agreed.

After oral arguments in the Microsoft v. AT&T case, my grandma, my mom, and I went to Justice Stevens' chambers for lunch (my mom calls him John Paul, but since I'm sure he wouldn't recognize me if I said hi to him on the street, I call him Justice Stevens). We ate BLT sandwiches and potato chips with soda. Justice Stevens ate saltine crackers and cottage cheese with water.

He asked my grandma about their family members on the west coast, where she lives. He asked my mom about her job, and he asked me about school.

"In class, do you see anyone play spider solitaire?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Do you ever play?"

"Yes," I said, embarrassed. I decided against explaining to him that spider solitaire helped me focus on the lecture, especially when I sat far away from the professor.

"How many different suits do you play with?"

"Two," I said.

"Next time, try four. That's what I do and I'm have a ten percent win rate."

I'm so sad that Justice Stevens is retiring. I have loved reading his recent interviews and news articles published for his retirement. I don't agree with all his opinions, but his legal mind is unparalleled and I don't think we'll ever see another Supreme Court justice that's as good as he. And that's my completely unbiased opinion.

Summer's First Birthday Party

2010-04-28T10:32:00.000-07:00

Summer had her first birthday party yesterday.

She won't turn one for another four days, but on the second I'll be with my mom driving through Kansas. So we did a little something yesterday.

I spend all my time making food and decorations and didn't get around to making Summer's mop of hair look good. Sorry, little girl.

After eating, we sang happy birthday to Summer and let her go at a cupcake. She really liked the frosting...

Finally, she figured out she cold eat the whole thing and gladly did so:

Then the dress went back on and we opened presents.

So that was Summer's first birthday party, and I think it's going to be her last. I don't like throwing parties. When people leave it's such a bummer because I don't feel like I really got the chance to talk to anyone, even when the party is small. In the future, we'll just have several separate birthday dinners with good friends, because making food and eating it with friends is awesome.

Okay, here are some recipes for those interested.

We ate Asian pasta salad:

Dressing:

1/3 c. red wine vinegar
1/3 c. soy sauce
1/2 c. oil (part sesame oil, part salad oil)
3 T. sugar
1/2 t. salt & pepper
1/4 c. toasted sesame seeds

Bowtie Pasta
red & yellow peppers, sliced
baby spinach
cilantro
chicken
almonds

Bean Dip with Chips:

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/giada-de-laurentiis/white-bean-dip-with-pita-chips-recipe/index.html

I forgot about the pita chips, so we just had them with tortilla chips. They would have been better with the pita chips.

We also had sliced strawberries. I have decided that, in the future, I'm always getting my fruit from costco unless I can sneak a sample before buying. Fruit at Costco is more expensive, but they've never sold me bad fruit.

For dessert, we had sugar cookies and strawberry vanilla cupcakes.

When I decided to make cupcakes, my only goal was to make a cupcake that Nathaniel liked. Nathaniel is not a sweets person. He enjoys them on occasion, but he could probably go his whole life without eating anything sweet and would be fine. Okay, well, I suppose most of us would be fine in that scenario, but you know what I mean.

Nathaniel is more than indifferent when it comes to cake. He's actively opposed to cake. When he is served cake, he usually refuses. Sometimes he accepts, though, and then is reminded why he usually refuses in the first place. So, if I was going to make cupcakes, I wanted them to be so good that Nathaniel would actually eat one. Why? I don't know. But that was my goal.

A while ago, I saw a today show clip and Giada made cupcakes topped with a strawberry glaze, which was just strawberry puree and powdered sugar. I thought a strawberry glaze sounded brilliant and so I decided to use that as my frosting. Then I decided on this recipe for the cupcakes:

http://simplyrecipes.com/recipes/double_vanilla_cupcakes/

It turns out that recipe is ridiculously complicated. I spent all day making the dumb things. It probably would take most people less time, but I kept forgetting to buy ingredients and I had to go to the store to get them.

So then I made the strawberry glaze, which just tasted like powdered sugar (I used fresh, not frozen strawberries, btw). So I added 2/3 of a stick of butter, a little vanilla, and a little lemon juice, and much more powdered sugar. Sorry, that's all I know about that frosting.

Anyway, the cupcakes were a big hit. Nathaniel ate, like, three. But if you're going to do that cupcake recipe, I would skip the vanilla bean. The strawberry frosting (which was really incredible) will atone for any sins of the cupcakes.

For the love, please help!

2010-04-21T16:49:00.000-07:00

Friends, please help me. Summer can get out of her high chair. I turn my back for three seconds and she is standing up, one leg out, attempting to get down. Either that or baby suicide. I don't know.

So I've been feeding her on the floor. I put some food on a plate, put it on the floor, and sit her in front of it. Once, when Summer was heavily distracted by an open refrigerator, I whistled to get her attention. Nathaniel promptly chastised me.

By the way, is there a real Mother of the Year award? Because I'm planning on nominating myself if there is.

Anyway, it turns out that feeding a child who is not strapped into a chair has significant disadvantages. When Summer got distracted in her high chair, it was no big deal, because the food was right in front of her and it always caught her attention again if she was hungry. But now? Now she can crawl away in the middle of a meal. And she does. She crawls everywhere. I've tried setting her on my lap and feeding her, but she'll eat a bite or two and then blow me off.

I'm going crazy trying to get this girl to eat. I used to think babies would eat if they needed it. If this were true, it would relieve a lot of stress in my life right now. Unfortunately, this thinking got me in trouble with the pediatrician.

So do y'all have any advice? Should I try rigging a belt that's stronger in place of the one she can get out of? Should I make sure she's starving before I try feeding her (I kind of think I'm doing that already, though). Should I feed her a diet of pizza and chicken nuggets? Help.

The Ghost of Facebook Past

2010-04-13T19:22:00.000-07:00

I deleted my Facebook account when Nathaniel and I were dating. I decided I didn't want to waste time on it anymore. But then my family members joined and I had a hard time keeping in touch with friends, so I tried to get back into my account after I got married. For whatever reason, I couldn't and so I created a new account, which is what I've been using since.

But a couple of days ago, I accidentally logged into my old facebook account. It was pretty fun to see my messages from way back when-especially my banter with Nathaniel from our dating days. Oh, and there are some people who have blocked me or de-friended me. But only the new me. Not the old me. So now, I can rest easy knowing that I can see more Facebook walls than ever before.

The pictures I have on there are ones I haven't seen in a long time. Some I love. Like this one:

I took it when I went to visit my dad on a business trip to Chicago. It's actually a giant, reflective bean in the middle of the city. So cool. It brings back memories of the Chicago heat and Greek food with my dad and exciting city lights.

I also love this one:

No, I'm not gay. I just wanted to get a picture with a law school buddy and someone told us to be goofy. So I decided to give my friend a kiss on the cheek (we were already hugging), and then I started falling over right as someone took the picture. And I like it that there's a couple in the back of us, and my hair is almost the color of that girl's dress. That was a fun dance. It was the only time I've actually used the few belly dancing moves I learned.

I don't really get this one:

It was a profile picture. I remember when was getting over Robby and was sad about it I googled "cute animals" and I would look at pictures until I felt better. But why I decided to use a monkey as a profile picture, I don't know.

Please don't think less of me for this one:

I was an insecure kid. Cut me some slack.

With this one, feel free to think less of me:

The caption says, "What I do in criminal law." Okay, how embarrassing is that? I always think it's kind of funny when people take random, low quality pictures of themselves, pick the best one, and post it on the internet, when they already have a perfectly appropriate, recent, profile picture. Like, oh my gosh, I'm insecure, and so I want someone to tell me I look decent, and so I'll dress up for no reason, take 100 pictures, pick the best one, and sit back and wait for people to comment on it and tell me I'm attractive so I'll get a buzz off the superficial confidence boost. And yeah, guess what this picture is? But, not only did I do that, but I did it in criminal law. What was I looking at? I don't know, but it wasn't the professor and it wasn't the computer. Minus ten points for me.

The roller coaster ride continues

2010-04-07T18:13:00.000-07:00

And now I'm at the top. This reminds me of my journals from my early college years: I only wrote when things were either amazing (a boy liked me) or terrible (said boy didn't actually like me). Sorry about that.

Conference was good. I feel a bit inadequate as a parent because of all the parenting talks (um, nurturing is supposed to come naturally to me?), but overall it was very reassuring and helpful and awesome. Plus, now that Summer is FINALLY getting over her sickness, I have been able to see other people and it rocks. I am so lucky to have such thoughtful, intelligent friends. Too bad I'm moving to DC in a month and neither of them will be here next year.

But there is something I need to change. From the comments y'all wonderful people left on my post, I think my problem is that I'm a bit one-dimensional. It's funny, even though I've wanted to be a stay-at-home mom for a long time, and even though the church I love and believe in preaches that it's the most important job ever, a day spent doing just stay-at-home mom stuff is not fulfilling. No matter how many smiles I bring to my daughter's face, no matter what new milestones I have helped her reach, no matter how good my cooking is or clean our apartment is, a day of doing just that leaves me feeling, well, not good. That's so weird to me.

I think that in order for mothers to be the best they can be, they need to spend a little time doing non-mom stuff. For me, it'll be studying for the bar (awesome, right?). It's hard because Summer never lets me focus on anything except her, unless we're in a new place. She'll play by herself, as long as I'm paying attention to her. If she catches me looking at my computer screen she starts bawling. So I have to study during naps (which, by the way, have gotten lots better - two 1.5 hour naps a day. Thank you, God, for answering my prayers).

I love my baby so much, but frankly, I get tired of her. It's the same with Nathaniel: I love him more than I thought possible, but I don't want to be around him all the time. When we are together, our time is special and meaningful. And when Nathaniel takes Summer and I get a break from her, when I come back, I fall in love with her all over again and she is the sweetest, most precious being on the face of this earth.

So I'm going to study for the bar. Right now I'll have to suck it up and just study during Summer's nap time, but when we go to DC, we'll get a babysitter for a couple of hours a day so I can do what it takes to pass this sucker. I'm not using a bar prep course, but I have gotten what seems like good advice from some people I know who've studied on their own. I think I can do it. I have to do it. And then, I'll be a real life attorney. I plan on practicing here in Provo when that happens and the thought thrills me.

Oh, and about cream of condensed soups: they're fine. I've eaten many a good meal with cream of condensed soup. I don't use them because only once have I cooked something containing a cream soup that was actually edible. Since then, I've found a better way to make that particular thing. But if you offer me funeral potatoes, I will jump for joy.

Oh my goodness, could this post get any more random? Of course it could. And it will. Here are some pictures:

Summer likes cords.

And she can throw a fit when she doesn't get her way.

Nathaniel got second place in the 1L moot court competition. This makes me happy, but also annoys me because unlike Nathaniel, I actually tried to do really well and I was only a quarter-finalist. But I still love my husband.

She points.

And she's really cute.

The end.

Well, Crap

2010-04-02T21:42:00.000-07:00

For six months I've been looking forward to my mission reunion, only to realize that I missed it. I thought it was tomorrow. It was tonight.

I wanted so badly to go. I wanted so badly to connect with amazing people I met on my mission. I wanted a break from my present routine.

Life as a mom is nothing if not a roller coaster. Some days I think I'm the luckiest person in the world because I get to stay home with my little Summer. Other days, I just think of ways that I can get out of my present situation.

I remember so well reading a talk that was maybe from General Conference. It was some time ago, and I can't find the text, so we'll just have to go with my hazy memory here. Whoever was speaking at General Conference met some young mothers in the park. They all had at least a bachelor's degree and maybe some had more education. She asked them how it was that they were able to turn their backs on careers be so happy being mothers. The response? "We know who we are and we know our purpose."

I always thought of this tableau when I contemplated motherhood. I thought I would just talk with my friends outside on a blanket while our babies played sweetly and the sun shined warmly. It seemed much better than working eight hour days in an office where people who don't really care about you order you around.

But that quaint scene is not my reality. Summer has been sick for three weeks now and so, even if I had a group of friends who basked outside in the sun with their babies, and even if Utah got basking appropriate weather, I couldn't go. And what did I think these women were talking about anyway? Sorry, but I can only talk about diapers and coupons and dinners that involve cream of condensed soups for so long before I go crazy.

Sorry if that was mean. But I have had such a hard time connecting with people since I've had a baby. I feel lonely. When you're working in an office, you work with other people. I'm a social person and I'm sure that even if I didn't like work, I'd get the social interaction I need. It's hard with a husband who is gone all the time and a little baby who demands most of your time and attention.

I understand that Nathaniel needs to be gone. We have a frightening amount of student loan debt that needs to be paid off and the legal market is tough. So I basically want him to be away from 7 in the morning to nine at night. I want him to get great grades so we don't have to declare bankruptcy.

So as Nathaniel is gone, I hang out with Summer. I meet our basic needs. I feel like I just survive.

It's so easy to isolate myself. It's so easy to fill my days with stroller rides and patty-cake and feedings and grocery shopping and a little facebook and some blogs here and there. It's so easy to pass weeks and barely speak to another soul aside from Summer and Nathaniel. It gets easier when, in the course of interacting with someone, I realize that my social skills have atrophied along with my belly-dancing muscles and I am now one of the more awkward people I know.

I do have friends, some of whom are mothers, and for that I am grateful. I actually have a basking friend who is really cool. I just need to take the initiative more. I know. And I know this post underestimates mommy groups. I'm probably just too cynical and proud and I haven't tried hard enough to make more friends. I probably just need to figure out who I am and what my purpose is.

For Leslie

2010-03-17T10:19:00.000-07:00

Thanks for the clothes!!!

Yay for Husbands

2010-03-10T06:19:00.000-08:00

This might be my favorite thing about motherhood:

I was in the middle of doing something when I looked out our front window and saw Nathaniel outside with Summer. He had plopped her down in the grass and she didn't look too sure about it. I could hear him encouraging her, but she didn't go for it and just climbed onto his lap. Unfortunately, this is the best picture I got of that little moment.

Why is it just the sweetest thing in the world to see the man you love more than anyone play with the baby you'd do anything for?

Part Seven

2010-03-04T13:00:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I'm still doing this.

You know that feeling that you get when there's someone in your life? When you find someone who makes you happy and who likes you, too? Your heart seems to beat a bit faster. Food looses its appeal. Sleep becomes an unwelcome intrusion and thoughts of that special someone take its place.

After Nathaniel and I became a couple I just couldn't shake that giddy feeling. I didn't want to feel like that. I wanted to stay on top of my emotions and ensure that reason prevailed. But I guess I didn't want that badly enough because I abandoned myself to the excitement. I let myself smile like a fool whenever I thought of Nathaniel and our moments together. I couldn't help but stay awake into the night, re-playing our every interaction until sleep finally took over. At the GAL's office I could do little else but stare at the file I was supposed to summarize and daydream.

Nathaniel was, as far as I could tell, as close to perfect as anyone I had met. He could see the heart of the issue in every conversation we had. When he knew what he thought on the subject, he never hesitated to voice his well-reasoned opinion. When he didn't know, he unabashedly stated so. But his rationality was tempered with a generous dose of empathy. Nathaniel always tried to look at a situation from someone else's point of view and really tried to understand others. I had never in my dating life encountered someone who could be so logical and yet so caring and dang it, that was sexy.

I was so amused by the things he got excited about. Nathaniel doesn't care for candy bars, but when, at work, they gave out candy bars as a reward, he was determined to get as many as he could. He said he wanted to get enough candy bars to have a drawer full. I told him I thought it was silly. He agreed and abandoned the idea. I wish I hand't said that. How fun it would have been to see him reach his goal and have a drawer full of candy.

Oh, and about work, Nathaniel's abilities to do it bordered on superhuman. He had one of the worst jobs I could imagine: he cold-called people and asked them abut their finances. He hated it, but he willingly worked eight-hour days and more when he could. His attitude was nothing new: he worked on a paper route when he was young and had held a job ever since, including a grueling stint in an asphalt refinery.

I don't think it has every occurred to Nathaniel that there was something he couldn't do. Except, maybe, fly. Or nurse Summer.

I wanted to go into how much I loved talking to Nathaniel about the gospel, but I need to get to the point. The point is this: for a few blessed weeks, I went along as Nathaniel's girlfriend, thinking he was so rational and amazing and wonderful and then, suddenly, he shattered that image during a fight we had about Dryer's Slow-Churned Double Fudge Brownie Ice Cream.

When on a double date, we were given the task of getting some ice cream from the store. As we walked down the ice cream isle, looking at all the tantalizing frozen delights behind the glass doors, Nathaniel said sweetly, as any good boyfriend would, "Pick whatever kind you want."

My last boyfriend and I stumbled on what we believed was the most amazing ice cream ever: Double Fudge Brownie. I quickly fell in love with the creamy vanilla ice cream with chocolate swirls and toothsome chunks of brownie. It wasn't until we ate several bowls that we discovered it was low-fat. But we didn't let that stop us and we ate the entire carton way too fast.

I found the correct carton and picked it up. Nathaniel looked at the carton and immediately saw the "1/2 the fat!" logo. "Low fat?" he asked skeptically.

"Yeah, but it's really good. I don't want it because it's low fat. I just like it."

"Wouldn't you rather have something..." Nathaniel stared at the endless alternatives, not finishing his sentence. I waited.

"I hate low fat," he finally said. "If you want to loose weight, just eat less."

"Have you ever tried losing weight?" I asked.

"Yes, and I didn't eat low fat crap." I had forgotten I was talking to a former intense high school wrestler.

After we discussed it a bit more, I said, "Well, whatever. We can get a different one, but this would be my pick." What a brat I was. But he had, after all, said I could pick the ice cream.

He bought it. Looking back, I can't imagine many things Nathaniel would rather NOT do than spend his heard-earned money on low-fat ice cream. He was pretty upset.

"Why are you so against low-fat ice cream?" I asked him on the way to his friend's house.

"Because! It's not real!" He said this as though he was explaining to me why it's wrong to kill people. "It's mixed in with a bunch of chemicals that supposedly makes it taste better. Why do you want to eat chemicals when you can have the real thing?"

"Well, me, I just happen to like this ice cream a lot. But some people, when they want to loose weight, low-fat options are good because then they can eat as much as they usually do and still loose weight."

"That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard. I'm pretty sure full fat ice cream is healthier than chemicals. If you want to loose weight, just eat less. It's not. that. hard." His tone of voice told me that we were having our first real argument.

I laughed. "I can't believe you're getting so worked up over low fat ice cream. If people want to eat it, who cares?"

If I'm upset and someone asks me why I'm getting so worked up about it, well, let's just say it's not a good idea. Don't do it.

But Nathaniel smiled. "I don't know. But I hate it."

I don't remember when we got over our little argument. But it wasn't on the way home. I think we just didn't bring it up the next day and went on our merry way, being sure not to bring up Double Fudge Brownie.

By the way, I've read a lot of food blogs since then, and now I think Nathaniel was totally right. No extra chemicals in my ice cream, thank you very much.

Ten Months

2010-03-02T19:53:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty sure we have the cutest ten-month old ever. And that is a purely objective opinion, I assure you. I would take a picture to prove it, but our camera is somewhere not here. But, really, a camera isn't necessary because it's not just Summer's looks that make her so irresistible. It's not just her sweet brown eyes, her dimples, or her four new teeth. It's not just her generous mane of hair (that's hopefully not red or Nathaniel will freak out) or the way her body looks so teeny-tiny.

Summer is the cutest ten-month old ever because, when she's in a room full of people who start clapping, she stops whatever she's doing and claps along with them. Because when we're in church and during a quiet moment, she lets out a good, long toot and then cracks up with everyone else. Because of her adorable "ba ba bee da, ma ma ba" noises she makes as she crawls around, usually carrying something in her fist like toy or a pair of earrings, or, in today's case, a hammer.

I love this girl so much. When I was younger, I always thought it amazing that of all the people in the world, I was me. It's even more amazing that Summer is her own little person, sent to us from heaven. I feel so lucky to have her and to get to really know her. And yay, she's ten months old.

P.S. We had another weight check. She gained 4 oz in the past month. Not so good. So we're going back in a week to check her weight again. In the meantime, we're working extra hard to fatten her up. I made roast chicken for dinner tonight and Nathaniel and I gave Summer (among other foods) bits of bread smeared with butter and then slathered in chicken juices. She loved it.

I left our camera in California

2010-02-28T21:18:00.000-08:00

A few thoughts:

A while back, I took a logic class from this awesome hippie teacher: Chris Foster. He said that he was so annoyed when Americans acted as though the world owed us gold medals. He pointed out that in small countries, people dance on the streets when they win a medal. The United States already has enough going for it. We don't need to win the most gold medals. So I'm glad Canada won tonight's hockey match. It was their Olympics and their turn to shine.

I kind of hate Russia. I love their ballet, but the Kremlin scares me. I'm sad the Olympics is going to be there next time. I hope the US kicks their trash.

Summer now has four teeth, all of which have come in in the past two weeks. And to celebrate, Summer decided she needs to grind them together. Just the thought of that noise gives me the heebie jeebies, or however you spell that. If anyone has any tips on how to prevent babies from grinding their teeth together, pretty please let me know. (The internet basically says not to worry, it probably won't hurt her teeth. But I worry not for her teeth, but for myself and my sanity.)

People have been requesting pictures with Summer's teeth. I really don't think Summer is just going to smile and show the world her teeth when I take a picture, but when we get our camera back, I'll try.

When I was at Ikea a few days ago, I noticed that the rocking horse that Summer was playing with was not, in fact, a horse, but instead a moose. An employee walked by and I almost asked him, "So, you guys have a lot of Moose in Sweden?" Am I alone in thinking that all the employees of Ikea are Swedish?

What is the plural of moose? Moose? Mooses? Moosen?

What we did last weekend.

2010-02-20T17:33:00.001-08:00

This is what we did last weekend.

How To Lose Weight

2010-02-17T16:44:00.000-08:00

From the time I was about six to the time I was 22 or 23, I was considered a chubby person. I don't think of myself as a lean mean machine now, but back then it was pretty bad. At one point as an undergrad, my BMI was 26, which is well into the "overweight" arena. This would be fine if I worked out and ate healthy, but I didn't. I remember buying a bag on mini twix, planning on sharing them with my friends and eating a few myself. An hour later I was staring at an empty bag in the library. My behavior was a hazard to my health, also. A friend had to do some body assessments for a class, and my blood pressure and heart rate had tipped into the unhealthy range.

I felt awful about my body. I wanted so badly to be skinny. I tried various diets and though they did have some effects, I always fell off the wagon and started eating like before. I felt like I had no willpower and no self-control.

I even tried diet pills. Yeah, soooo pathetic, I know. One time I bought some at Wal-Mart from the self check out line because I was so embarrassed about it. It totally backfired because in order to buy diet pills you have to show that you're over 18. The self check out guy came over to me when my register beeped and said, "I'm pretty sure you're 18, but I don't understand why you want to buy diet pills." I glanced at the people behind me in line who were, of course, staring at me. I got out of there fast, leaving my receipt behind. Naturally, I was carrying something that made the anti-theft alarm beep as I was leaving the store. When the octogenarian security guard made a huge (and loud) fuss of everything, I wanted to die. So that was my last time buying diet pills.

But that's not the point. The point is this: eventually I lost weight. I didn't do it by going on some diet. I did it by changing the person I was and refusing to allow a number on the scale to dictate whether or not I felt good about myself. The changes came after I broke off my engagement and without realizing it, I starting following the recommendations in this book:

It is awesome. I decided to write this post because I've been telling so many people about it. Really, I think everyone should know about it. Here are the 10 principles taken directly from their website:

10 Principles of Intuitive Eating

1. Reject the Diet Mentality Throw out the diet books and magazine articles that offer you false hope of losing weight quickly, easily, and permanently. Get angry at the lies that have led you to feel as if you were a failure every time a new diet stopped working and you gained back all of the weight. If you allow even one small hope to linger that a new and better diet might be lurking around the corner, it will prevent you from being free to rediscover Intuitive Eating.

2. Honor Your Hunger Keep your body biologically fed with adequate energy and carbohydrates. Otherwise you can trigger a primal drive to overeat. Once you reach the moment of excessive hunger, all intentions of moderate, conscious eating are fleeting and irrelevant. Learning to honor this first biological signal sets the stage for re-building trust with yourself and food.

3. Make Peace with Food Call a truce, stop the food fight! Give yourself unconditional permission to eat. If you tell yourself that you can't or shouldn't have a particular food, it can lead to intense feelings of deprivation that build into uncontrollable cravings and, often, bingeing When you finally “give-in” to your forbidden food, eating will be experienced with such intensity, it usually results in Last Supper overeating, and overwhelming guilt.

4. Challenge the Food Police .Scream a loud "NO" to thoughts in your head that declare you're "good" for eating under 1000 calories or "bad" because you ate a piece of chocolate cake. The Food Police monitor the unreasonable rules that dieting has created . The police station is housed deep in your psyche, and its loud speaker shouts negative barbs, hopeless phrases, and guilt-provoking indictments. Chasing the Food Police away is a critical step in returning to Intuitive Eating.

5. Respect Your Fullness Listen for the body signals that tell you that you are no longer hungry. Observe the signs that show that you're comfortably full. Pause in the middle of a meal or food and ask yourself how the food tastes, and what is your current fullness level?

6. Discover the Satisfaction Factor The Japanese have the wisdom to promote pleasure as one of their goals of healthy living In our fury to be thin and healthy, we often overlook one of the most basic gifts of existence--the pleasure and satisfaction that can be found in the eating experience. When you eat what you really want, in an environment that is inviting and conducive, the pleasure you derive will be a powerful force in helping you feel satisfied and content. By providing this experience for yourself, you will find that it takes much less food to decide you've had "enough".

7. Honor Your Feelings Without Using Food Find ways to comfort , nurture, distract, and resolve your issues without using food. Anxiety, loneliness, boredom, anger are emotions we all experience throughout life. Each has its own trigger, and each has its own appeasement. Food won't fix any of these feelings. It may comfort for the short term, distract from the pain, or even numb you into a food hangover. But food won't solve the problem. If anything, eating for an emotional hunger will only make you feel worse in the long run. You'll ultimately have to deal with the source of the emotion, as well as the discomfort of overeating.

8. Respect Your Body Accept your genetic blueprint. Just as a person with a shoe size of eight would not expect to realistically squeeze into a size six, it is equally as futile (and uncomfortable) to have the same expectation with body size. But mostly, respect your body, so you can feel better about who you are. It's hard to reject the diet mentality if you are unrealistic and overly critical about your body shape.

9. Exercise--Feel the Difference Forget militant exercise. Just get active and feel the difference. Shift your focus to how it feels to move your body, rather than the calorie burning effect of exercise. If you focus on how you feel from working out, such as energized, it can make the difference between rolling out of bed for a brisk morning walk or hitting the snooze alarm. If when you wake up, your only goal is to lose weight, it's usually not a motivating factor in that moment of time.

10 Honor Your Health--Gentle Nutrition Make food choices that honor your health and tastebuds while making you feel well. Remember that you don't have to eat a perfect diet to be healthy. You will not suddenly get a nutrient deficiency or gain weight from one snack, one meal, or one day of eating. It's what you eat consistently over time that matters, progress not perfection is what counts.

Wow, that was a really long quote. Sorry.

Anyway, get the book. You can get it for, like, five bucks on amazon.com.

Man, it's so hard to write a good blog post when you've got a baby yanking on the laptop screen.

A tooth! Finally!

2010-02-15T18:11:00.000-08:00

Six months is the average age for babies to get teeth, so we've been checking every day for a tooth for the past four months. Every day, nothing. But this morning, at nine and a half months old, Summer finally got a tooth. On her top right. I was starting to think we'd need to put her in special education, so you can imagine my relief. Last night was great and she wasn't any fussier than usual today or yesterday. So all those times she was upset and we were sure she was suffering teething pain? I'm thinking we were drugging her for no reason.

Oh, and there will be no picture of this tooth because Summer has serious issues with people looking at her mouth. Just ask her doctor who got repeatedly kicked in the face when she tried to look in our little girl's mouth.

Oh, and we're visiting Paul and Amy in California! Yesterday we went to see some redwoods and to Santa Cruz, which had some amazing waves. Today we went to San Francisco and ate some sourdough bread, which is actually better than the stuff you get at Wal-Mart. Then we went to half-moon beach? bay? where Amy learned how to surf once upon a time. Nathaniel picked up a massive piece of seaweed and decided to use it as a whip. We changed Summer's bum on the beach and I think she was grateful to get a little fresh air down there.

We brought a camera and had lots of good intentions, but no pictures. Maybe we'll get some from Paul and Amy and post them later.

UPDATE: This blog is clearly going downhill.

Measuring Cup

2010-02-06T14:51:00.000-08:00

Summer,

That measuring cup was in the drawer. The drawer was closed. How did you get in the high chair?

Love,

Mommy

Apparently I'm Starving My Child

2010-02-02T19:40:00.001-08:00

Summer turned nine months today. Can you believe she has survived? I'm such a slacker that I am very impressed with myself. People thought I was nuts for being super paranoid when she was younger. I guess I should have explained to them that I knew I was going to slack off later, and I figured that when you average super paranoid with totally too relaxed you get just about right. But I probably wasn't paranoid enough.

I still have toxic poison in the cupboard below the sink. I really don't know where else to put it, but if I just started thinking about it instead of writing about it I'm sure I could find a solution. I felt pretty guilty about that until I read that the French are totally relaxed about child-proofing, and since I pretty much want to be French, I figure I'm doing all right.

And that's not all. Not all the outlets are covered, we have lamps that are just waiting to be shook and then toppled over, I have no idea what's on our floors, and the bathroom is basically a toxic waste dump. Oh, and I really have no idea when I feed Summer.

I nurse her when she wakes up and when she goes to bed, and then pretty much anything goes from there. I think, maybe, I sort of nurse her four times a day and feed her twice a day. As far as the times of these "meals," I have no idea. If she's hungry, I nurse her, unless I've nursed her recently, and then I give her solids. She seems happy.

Earlier today, I realized that Summer is just getting pickier and I'm going to have to plan meals for her the same way I plan meals for us. Which is rarely, but I have really good intentions to do so. And right now, I have the ingredients for a dozen different meals, so I feel prepared.

Anyway, the point of this post, aside from celebrating Summer's amazing survival skills, is to say that at her 9-month check-up, the doctor was worried about Summer's weight.

Oh, my goodness, the m key is sticking and of course I have a daughter with not one but two ms in her name! Let's just call her little one.

Her weight has gone from the 10th percentile to the 35th percentile to the 47th percentile to the 53rd percentile to the 27th percentile and now to the 10th percentile again. The curve does not look like it's supposed to.

Apparently, the rolls on her legs and her massive cheeks don't mean much.

So I get interrogated about how often I feed my child. I am not good with interrogations. I get nervous and confused and I always look guilty. If I ever get framed for murder, I'm screwed.

I felt so awkward about not knowing how much I give this child to eat. I just feed her until she seems okay. How much water do I give her? As much as she wants. Little babies know how much they need, right?

Ugh. So, I'm going back in for a weight check in a month, and I'm supposed to feed her three square meals a day, give her snacks, and be careful not to overdo the water.

But seriously, does this baby look like she's deprived to you?

P.S. I love being a mom. I love playing hide and seek with this girl. I love watching her gobble up her food after she smushes it in her hands. I love the way she absolutely refuses to allow the doctor to examine her mouth. I love the way her eyes light up when she sees her daddy. I love the way she will play with her book for minutes on end. I love Summer.

New Environmentalism

2010-01-31T16:42:00.001-08:00

Here are my thoughts for the day:

Neal A. Maxwell: “True disciples … would be consistent environmentalists – caring both about maintaining the spiritual health of a marriage and preserving a rain forest; caring about preserving the nutrient capacity of a family as well as providing a healthy supply of air and water…. Adam and Eve were to 'dress the garden,' not exploit it. Like them, we are to keep the commandments, so that we can enjoy all the resources God has given us, resources described as “enough and to spare” (D&C 104:17), if we use and husband them wisely."

Summer's First Word

2010-01-29T10:15:00.000-08:00

There is one good thing about having a rather large, possibly dangerous, mole in the center of my chest for everyone to see: Summer loves it. When I hold her , she points at it with both index fingers and babbles. A few days ago, I started calling it “mommy’s dot.”

When I was browsing in a store, Summer starting pointing to the mole and saying “ba ba ba ba.” I starting saying “dot” over and over again. She looked at me and then started saying “duh duh duh.” Hmm…

This morning, when I woke up, I showed her the mole and pointed to it. She pointed to it too, and said, “duh duh duh duh.” (The sounds were sharp and staccato – it didn’t sound like she was suggesting I was dumb, by the way.) I didn't want to get my hopes up, but I really wanted her to have made some progress in the language area. I was totally excited.

Later this morning, I picked her up and she pointed to my mole and said “dot.” In a very baby-ish way, but it was there. I was thrilled. So was Nathaniel. We danced and hopped around like idiots.

So this is why I think “dot” is Summer’s first word. Knowing her, I probably won’t hear it again for a long time, but I had to document it.

By the way, after hearing Summer say “dot,” I flipped through What to Expect The First Year to see if it’s really possible that an 8 ½ month old baby would say something (very unlikely, according to the authors, so I’m probably making the whole thing up). A section on toilet training caught my eyes, and I couldn’t help but share this gem with you guys:

“Children are great imitators, particularly of people they look up to. So instead of barring baby from the bathroom while you use the toilet, invite him in for a live demonstration, accompanied by a running commentary on the goings-on.”

This coming from the same people who eschew the word “poo” in favor of the more delicate “doo doo,” presumably to avoid offending their gentle readers.

Helping Haiti - A Step Toward Unselfishness

2010-01-27T07:33:00.000-08:00

As I was writing the last post (you know, the one when I wanted to become foam), I felt a bit silly writing about how awful and terrible my life is when all signs suggest otherwise. I have a perfect (for me) husband, a beautiful, easy-going daughter, wonderful, giving friends, and two incredible families. Even though we live off student loans, we have a great apartment (relatively speaking) and we always have more than enough to eat. I am blessed to be doing almost exactly what I always wanted to do with my life (full-time mom, part time law clerk, soon-to-be attorney). I love my church and my Crohn's hasn't acted very badly in months. Life is awesome. (And so are parentheticals.)

But I forged ahead with the rant because I think it's important to validate feelings. If you feel bad, it's healthier to acknowledge it, as silly and unjustified those feelings may be, than to brush it under the rug.

So I acknowledged and went to bed and felt 100 times better the next day. And then, with a great night's sleep, I saw clearly what I had been only a vague inkling in the back of my mind: Summer had almost nothing to do with my terrible day. It was all me and my selfishness. I wanted a day when I could do what I wanted and I wanted to do it easily, and couldn't, so I got upset and placed the blame where it didn't belong. I was only thinking about myself.

I should know better. How many times in church, personal study, family home evenings, firesides, etc., have I heard warnings against self-centered thinking? And how it leads to misery and divorce and war and pretty much everything that's wrong with the world except physical illness and pleated pants?

So when I stopped thinking about myself, I started thinking about Haiti. When I first heard about the earthquake there, my heart sank. I hated it that there was so much suffering going on and I couldn't be there to help somehow.

So Nathaniel and I donated a little money to the disaster relief fund of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. It wasn't much, but I figured every little bit helps.

Later, after I decided to try and stop being selfish, I saw this. The Church was calling for more donations to help Haiti. We don't have a lot of money (well, none, really if you consider our debt), but we can forgo something that's not that iportant (Avitar in 3D? A dinner at Communal? A new dress? My first-world needs are so silly) so that our brothers and sisters in Haiti can get the help they need.

So I recommend that if you can donate to Haiti, you do so through the LDS church. Just click here. First, they actually put 100% of your donation to disaster relief (I can't figure out what the Red Cross's percentage is, but I know it's not 100). Second, their relief efforts are extremely well-organized and efficient. Areas that have suffered disasters often have a problem with organizations who are trying to help but are really just in the way because the supplies they bring are one big mess. But relief workers are always happy to see the Mormons come.

Also, as the request for more funds stated, people need more than food and water and shelter. They need our prayers. So everyone really can do something.

Just Breathe

2010-01-25T20:37:00.000-08:00

Today was bad. Very bad. I had big plans to put off my work project and head to the store for some parchment paper, because I really wanted to make graham crackers and I needed parchment to do it. I planned to read my scriptures when Summer was taking her morning nap and then take off as soon as she woke up.

It didn’t work. Summer decided that rather than sleeping, she would just whine and cry and fuss in an exhausted, serotonin-fueled state. All day long. Thrice I attempted to let her cry herself to sleep in her crib, and thrice I failed.

What did this mean for me? No getting parchment paper. No earning money. No taking lunch to Nathaniel. Nothing but attempting to placate my child for hours on end in a 10 x 12 living room. And two and a half long hours of listening to my beloved child scream her head off.

If you haven't had the experience of listening to a baby cry for multiple hours in one day, I sincerely hope you never do.

As I lay on my bed, listening to Summer's cries, I wanted to sink into the mattress pad. I wanted to become the foam – no ears, no emotions, no screaming babies.

On days like today, I have to tell myself to just breathe. I have to tell myself that it’s okay to me frustrated and mad. It’s okay to feel inadequate and long for another life. Sometimes, things happen that make the life of foam look enviable, things that make you wish that you could check out of motherhood just for the day. But you can’t. And you wouldn’t, even if you could, because these days don’t last long, and really, life is actually amazing.

Sometimes you just have to complain about your husband

2010-01-20T19:39:00.000-08:00

Today, I checked the mail and pulled out a package. Our address is on Wymount Terrace. The package was addressed to "Wymount Ter."

When I see Blvd., I think boulevard. When I see St., I think street. When I see Rd., I think road. When I see Ter., I think turd.

I have explained this to Nathaniel, and he refuses to stop.

But I forgive him, because he does stuff like this:

The inevitable spit up pic

2010-01-12T21:26:00.000-08:00

You should click on the picture to really appreciate its glory.

When I look at this picture, a few things come to mind:

1. It was taken right after we bragged to our friends that Summer almost never spits up.

2. I love Summer's look of triumph - like she's saying "I never spit up, huh? Ha!"

3. My husband is very attractive, even with spit up on his face.

Not A Happy Post

2010-01-08T08:53:00.000-08:00

Warning: many might find this post a tad bit depressing. Feel free to skip it.

I had a miscarriage in March of 2008. It was the most devastating experience I’ve ever had to go through. I was working at the Attorney General’s office in Salt Lake City when I started spotting. I remember as I was driving home I prayed, crying to God that he couldn’t do that to me because a miscarriage was the one thing I couldn’t handle. I loved that baby so much and losing him or her was unfathomable. Before that day, I thought that I could deal with a miscarriage. My mom had a miscarriage and she explained to me that sometimes things just aren’t working right and a miscarriage is nature’s way of taking care of it. I hadn’t realized until then that she could talk about like that because it had been over a decade since she lost her baby.

The next day, when I started having intense contractions at 11 weeks, I wondered why God would do this to me? To us? Why would he make me think I had a baby on the way, only to take it away from me? With every other trail I had experienced, I found a way to make sense of it: I learned an invaluable lesson, I came out of the trial with more empathy for and understanding of others, I was a stronger person, etc. But I could not, and still can’t, understand the good in losing a pregnancy.

One of the most difficult things in losing my baby was that people downplayed it. No one was rude, but comments that were meant to be helpful like “You really need to rest more,” and “That sucks. Well, at least you’ll have more time to study,” and “Maybe you weren’t really pregnant,” hurt. Most just pretended everything was the same, even thought I had already told everyone about the pregnancy. Some people were wonderful. My mother said, “I don’t know what to say, but I just really love you.” That was exactly what I needed to hear. My gastroenterologist, of all people, was also very validating. He left me a voicemail saying, “I’m sorry about your baby.” He didn’t say “Sorry about what happened,” or “Sorry about the miscarriage.” He recognized that I had a baby and the baby died. A woman from work gave me a hug when I returned and said, “No one really understands until they’ve been through it.” Nathaniel, of course, was wonderful. He just let me cry on his shoulder and cried with me.

One of the worst things about a miscarriage is blame. That’s why well-intended comments like, “Next time, you need more rest,” can hurt so much. Women who have had miscarriages constantly second-guess their every action, wondering whether or not a different decision at some point would have saved their baby’s life. This morning, I read a blog post about how the author miraculously avoided miscarriage, through prayer and faith and the grace of God. I am so glad she didn’t have to go through the loss of her pregnancy, but I do hope no woman reads that post and wonders if an extra priesthood blessing or more faith would have resulted in a different outcome. Well, I hope no one aside from me feels that way.

I spent a long time in the temple and although I cannot understand the reasons for losing a baby, I made my peace with what happened. But I have to renew that all the time. It’s easy to go back to being angry at God, but prayer helps the peace return.

When I was 7 months pregnant with Summer, I was chatting with a friend from high school about the bar. He mentioned something about my being a mommy, and I replied that I wasn’t a mommy yet. “I’m Catholic,” he responded, “and for me life begins at conception. So you’re a mommy in my book.” I liked that. So in a way, I’m a mommy of two.

I said I don’t understand why God would let me loose a baby, but perhaps I’m starting to make sense of it. Soon after the miscarriage, I was listening to a radio program about caring for trees (not something I would ordinarily do, btw). In response to a question from a listener, the host of the show explained that in order to properly care for a fruit tree, the blossoms should be plucked for the first couple of years so that the tree can grow strong and be prepared to bear fruit. When I heard that, my thoughts immediately went to the baby I lost. But I shoved aside the notion that God would let my baby die so that I could grow up a little more before I was charged with caring for one of His children. I’m still not sure that that’s the answer, but every time I think of the little one I lost I think of that experience. So maybe that’s part of it. I’m not sure. And now, that’s okay.

Toy Station

2010-01-06T07:54:00.000-08:00

Thanks to my mom, we have an extra dresser. (Why is this centered? I really shouldn't use programs I don't understand.) Here's what we did with it.

I'm pretty proud of myself. So I'm bragging on the internets.

Yeah!

Going Private!

2010-01-05T21:49:00.001-08:00

Hahaha....just kidding.

My wife is trying to kill me...

2010-01-05T20:39:00.000-08:00

I'm starving...almost dead. Why, you ask? Because my wife is starving me to death. Here's the story:

I was in the middle of wasting time on the computer by looking at some blogs and improving my facebook-me by making nice comments on other peoples' statuses when I noticed my hands were shaking. No, it wasn't because I was nervous my facebook-friends wouldn't like the comments I was making (they always love them)...it was because my body does not have enough food in it. Now you want to know why the heck my body doesn't have enough food in it....well so did I! As I stared at my shaking hands I thought, "wow, I'm really hungry." Thankfully (and contrary to my wife's diabolical plan) that thought persisted and I did something about it (well, honestly I haven't yet eaten but I'm going to right after I post this). I'm pretty sure that my wife was hoping that I would never make myself food and I would slowly die of starvation. No, I have no idea why she would want to kill me, I'm perfect in every way. But that's beside the point. Here's how she was trying to kill me:

Step 1) Make food for Nathaniel on a regular basis.
Step 2) Make food for Nathaniel so often that he never makes food for himself.
Step 3) Make Nathaniel absolutely dependent on the food that I make him.
Step 4) Stop making food for Nathaniel
Step 5) Hope that Nathaniel has forgotten what hunger feels like so that when it hits him he won't respond by making his own food but will die instead.

I thwarted her plan on step 5 (again, technically I'll thwart it by eating as soon as I'm done typing this post with my shaky hands). I will live another day, wife! Better luck with your next evil plot.

The End.

Update:

Yes, I love to use parentheticals and yes, my wife is making me food while I'm typing this...does this mean she thinks her plan might still work?

A letter to Summer three days after she turned eight months old

2010-01-05T19:05:00.001-08:00

Dear Summer,

Three days ago, you turned eight months old. And I'm sorry, but I did not write a post about you on that day. I was really tired. Oh, wait. You're only eight months old. You don't care. Goody.

You've been crawling for a couple of weeks now, but it's nice and slow so you can't get into too much trouble. And you stand up and cruise a little (which is when you get around by holding the side of the couch or something). Sometimes it's really cute when you crawl to me and climb up my legs, just standing there, waiting to be picked up. Sometimes it's awfully inconvenient when you do that while I'm holding a knife and have raw chicken all over my hands. I haven't quite figured out what I should do at that point because you can't stand up all by yourself and it seems a little mean to walk away and let you topple over. Good thing daddy was there.

And speaking of your daddy: Summer, we need to talk about something. Your daddy loves you just as much as I do. He is just as good at holding you, and probably a little bit better at playing with you. When I give you to him so that I can go to the bathroom, you are in safe hands. There is no need to scream when I leave the room. As much as I need a break, I promise I'll always come back when I go to the bathroom.

See? Here he is, feeding you a bottle. Oh, and this picture was taken the day you turned eight months old.

What? You don't like the lighting? Neither do I.

Today I fed you blueberries. As it turns out, it's not a very good idea to give messy babies something that stains almost black. Maybe we'll save them for when I don't have to puree all your food. Or maybe not, because you didn't seem to like them that much this time. So I gave you leftover chicken and dumplings. I'm not sure if you're supposed to give babies stuff like that, but you loved it, and that's good enough for me.

Today, I tickled you for the very first time. Well, I've tickled you before, where my hands start about a foot from your tiny body and they slowly inch toward your rib cage. That, coupled with threats from the tickle monster (me), usually gets a laugh.

But today, as you were laying down on my lap looking at our new cool orange rug (or maybe the wall, I'm not sure), I just gave you a simple tickle just above your tummy. I was rewarded with a dimple in your cheek and a nice upward curl in your lips. I did it again and got a laugh. We just sat and laughed for a few minutes. It was so great.

Your favorite game is full body peek-a-boo. I love how I get a big smile and laugh out of you when I jump around a corner or hide under your chair, then back again. And you look for for me when I hide out under your high chair. You are so fun.

Well, most of the time you are fun. Sometimes, it's very difficult dealing with a baby who is teething. You're just not your happy, smiling, laughing self, and you want to be cuddled and carried a lot. I'm sorry you're so uncomfortable most of the time. I'm sure I'd be a big grump too if I was dealing with that.

I just love you so much. I am so glad to have you in my life. You are the perfect eight-month old.

Love,
Mommy

Sometimes I think Summer's head looks massive

2010-01-02T21:54:00.000-08:00

But I sure do love her!

Our Early Morning Adventure

2009-12-30T23:23:00.000-08:00

Last night/early this morning, Nathaniel and I took Summer to the ER. It was totally unnecessary. Of course, we didn't know that before we got there. Summer is generally a good sleeper at night, but she woke up several times before 10pm screaming, loudly and for long periods. So we went and got her, figuring she was teething and shouldn't have to suffer alone and in the dark any longer. She was dripping tons of snot, so we sucked it out with a sucker. Then she threw up. Then she started making these "ehhhhh" screechy-sounding noises. Then she felt hot. Then her temperature measured 102.3 or something. That was on Tylenol. I freaked out. We gave her more Tylenol. A while later, Nathaniel took the thermometer out early and it measured 102.8. That was when we packed up and headed to the ER.

When there, a nurse got Summer's vitals. The main reason for writing this post is to remember how cute it was when she wrapped a blood pressure sensor around Summer's tiny big toe. Summer just sat there, looking at it, lifting her foot up and down. So cute. The nurse took her temperature, which had decreased to 102.2. Good sign.

Then we waited for a room. We waited. And waited. And waited. Forty-five minutes into the wait, Nathaniel said, "We should bail." Looking back, I had no idea why that isn't what I did. Summer looked thrilled to be up so late and in a new place. She did not look like a sick baby.

An hour and fifteen minutes after our arrival, we went back into a room. A nurse greeted us and asked us more questions. And then we waited. And waited. And waited. At one point, Nathaniel had a nice little nap in the chair while I showed Summer all the fish in the room. Definitely not a sick baby.

The doctor came, and he said that the fever meant there was an infection in the body. It was likely viral, and because she was over three months, she had immunities and could fight it off. There was a slight chance it was a urinary tract infection, which could be really bad, but it was likely related to all the snot coming our her nose.

Why could the internets not have told us that a few hours earlier?!? Why did we need to spend two and a half hours in the ER in the middle of the night to have a doctor tell us that? Google, you have failed me.

The nurse came in and checked her temp again: 99 degrees. When she told me that, I felt pretty dumb for being there.

On the bright side, Summer got a cool new toy strapped to her leg:

Christmas Break

2009-12-23T07:14:00.000-08:00

Hello, friends. I’m sorry I haven’t blogged in forever, not because I labor under the illusion that my short absence from blog-land was a source of stress, but because I fear I’ve given people the false impression that my last post – you know, the one where I was freaking out about momhood – represents the current state of my mind. Your comments were truly so helpful – so helpful that I decided that I’m doing great and I’ve been living it up ever since. I do have freak-outs, but fortunately they don’t last weeks.

Nathaniel is done with finals. Blessed day. It’s been so wonderful having him home. This week, I have taken a nap every single day. So not only am I sleeping through the night, but I also am sleeping during the day. I haven’t done that since…yeah. It’s been a long time. The sad thing is that naps don’t really make me feel better. I think I’m like a 21-year old who insists on drinking every alcoholic beverage in sight: sure, it makes you feel like crap, but you have to do it just because you can. Also, it’s been so much fun to just hang out with Nathaniel. Turns out, he’s really funny and cool and witty and stuff.

Since my last blog, I have thought of a gazillion posts and this is my attempt to condense them. We’ll see how it goes.

I’ve been thinking a lot about two words: cheesy and ironic. They don’t have anything to do with other, so they each deserve their own paragraph. Hmmm, this isn’t going so well…

Cheesy. I was listening to the radio a few weeks back and the lame, generic, Top 40 station I listen to (can you tell how proud I am to listen to those stations?) advertised itself by describing the mix of music it plays. There was some rock, some hip hop, maybe some eighties, but the last line was “with a little bit of cheese,” or something like that. I thought it was interesting that the station admitted to playing cheesy songs. My first reaction was something like, “How sad that they have to pander to the general public who laps up lame music.” Yeah, ridiculous reaction, I know, because who is a member of that general public lapping up cheesy tunes? Me. While I haven’t plunged into the country music arena, I do like cheesy music. For example, I love Taylor Swift. I love to hear about the guy who makes her cry into her guitar. I’m so happy for her when I hear about the guy who has talked to her dad and tells her to pick out a white dress. I love almost any song that celebrates love and life and happiness, or that wants to but is thwarted.

And this isn’t just about songs. Movies, books, stories from friends/acquaintances/people I don’t know: if they’re cheesy, chances are I’ll love them. My blog? Full of cheese, too. Sure, I can get annoyed when people are freaks about love or happiness or whatever, but I suspect I have a much higher tolerance for this sort of thing than others. So I decided that "cheesy" no longer contains any pejorative connotation for me.

Anyway, I typically tone down the optimism and gushing in my blog (I know, can you believe it?), and I will continue to do so a bit, but I think I’m going to let it fly a little more. More spurting (I need a synonym for “gushing”) about Summer, about Nathaniel, about my church, about my family, about Nathaniel’s family, about friends, about life. I’ve always loved life. Life is great.

Wow, okay, I’m tired. Irony and feminism will have to wait for another day.

Seven Whole Months and a Confused Mother Trying to Balance Her Life

2009-12-02T18:47:00.000-08:00

Summer was born seven months ago today. I'm amazed how fast these months are going. I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see her monthly posts so close together.

I know these monthly posts are so unoriginal, but I feel like I really need to do them because this is as close as I get to a baby book. I have to do something to remember her when she's little and all her milestones.

And speaking of milestones, Summer finally crawled. Not really, though. She did one crawl-step and then plopped down on her tummy again. She has her army crawl down and she goes really fast when she does it. Plus she's been rocking on her hands and knees for over a month now, so it's about time she just give it up and crawl like all the other babies are doing. Wow, look at what a great mom I am, encouraging my child to hop on a bandwagon. Summer won't have any issues, I'm sure.

She loves to get under the exersaucer, and because she's too young to understand when I'm laughing at her I get a good endorphin boost when she tries to get out.

Clearly, Summer gets her amazing muscle tone from her dad:

These were taken a couple of weeks ago.

Okay, Summer, can you get out?

Okay, arms out. Now try the legs!

Hey, little one, you have to use your right arm.

Nice.

And these were taken today. I know this is a ton of exersaucer pics, a plethora really, but I just find my baby adorable, and I know there are grandmothers looking at this blog who love to look at this girl's mug almost as much as I do.

Mmmm, I swear she's usually wearing pants.

I have conflicting feelings about being a mother. I really don't feel like I'm very good at it. I enjoy my life, but sometimes I feel like Summer just tags along with me while I go about my business. I always planned on being a very proactive, involved mom, even when my kids were really young. And I was, to a fault, until it drove me crazy and my life collapsed around me and Nathaniel told me that Summer really didn't need all the attention I was giving her. I think now I've gone into the other extreme.

I just don't know how to keep the house clean and feed my family and work and do the little hobbies I want to do and have a relationship with my husband and be a good friend and good member of the church and be a good sister/daughter and take care of a baby. When I look at the list, I think something's got go give, but there's nothing I want to let go. I remember a lesson by a former bishop who asked us to draw a little pie chart and put in it all of the different commitments we have. In that chart, we were to put how well we thought we were doing in each area.

Bishop Klein said, "You're never going to have 10s in every one of these areas. In fact, you probably shouldn't. If you have an eight in every one, you're doing amazing. Most are going to be fives or sixes." Or something like that.

That's pretty much what I had. I went from feeling like a failure to feeling like I was doing okay.

Now, I feel like a failure. I just look around me and it seems like everyone is able to do so much more than I do. I really think they're just more efficient with their time. Just now, it took me four hours to make dinner and that doesn't include washing the dishes. It's so hard for me because I can't keep my focus on something with a baby in the background, so I constantly have to re-group and remember what the crap I was going to do with the frozen vegetables and knife that are sitting on the counter.

So how do you do it?

Tiger Woods and High School Proms: a post so awesome it needs no pictures

2009-12-01T12:12:00.000-08:00

Apparently, the National Enquirer “reported” that Tiger Woods was having an affair with someone. Woods calls these statements malicious rumors, or something like that. Other “news” outlets picked up on that and one went so far as to suggest that Woods go public about his affairs a la Letterman.

Woods might be having an affair. I don’t know. I probably know as much about the whole situation as the goober who reported on it from the National Enquirer.

We all have a hunch that the National Enquirer is full of crap. Except me. I know. Here’s how.

Back in 2000 (remember that year?), Christina Aguilera came to my prom. I was a junior, it was my first year at the school, and I was on the high school newspaper staff. All of this meant I would be attending the prom date-less, covering it for the school newspaper and some other local papers.

I snapped some pictures and got an autograph. The event was a bust. You can read my rather pathetic article in the Augusta Chronicle here . There’s also a picture of what I looked like back then, if you need a good laugh.

A few days later, the advisor for the school newspaper called. A woman showed up at the school on a Saturday, looking for pictures of the event. She said she did freelance for the New York Times, the Chicago Tribune, USA Today, etc. I told her no problem. (Stupid!! I probably could have bought a gym membership with the money I got from those pictures.)

A week or so later, an article about the event appeared in the National Enquirer, accompanied with my pictures (grr!). Here is an excerpt:

"Christina was rude, crude, selfish and disrespectful," Bebe Bala, who helped out at the "Prom of Your Life" told the ENQUIRER. Dorothy Hatch, a Greenbrier High School junior who covered the prom for the Augusta Chronicle, reported, "It could not have been the prom of Colin's life..(He) was in the back most of the time, mostly standing by himself!" Continued Bebe, "It was clear that the prom was the last place Christina wanted to be. While getting ready, she kept hissing: 'I can't believe I'm going through with this! I can't go out there!'--Christina and her road manager had a huge fight over whether she'd do two or three songs. And she gave strict orders--"If the DJ plays a Britney Spears song, I'm out of here!" She was so busy complaining, she was 45 minutes late to the stage. A prom guest fumed, "After her ridiculously short performance, Christina was ushered to an interview area to meet with Colin. He gave Christina a rose, but she barely remembered this poor guy was supposed to be her prom date. She said, 'Oh you're the kid who won the contest', handed him one of her CD's and moved on. Her whole visit amounted to two quick songs and a cloud of dust!" Concluded Bebe: "Christina may be a big star, but she's a real zero in Augusta!"

I’m pretty sure I didn’t say those things. Okay, it’s possible. The poor guy did stand in the back most of the time. But Bebe Bala? He/she/it does not exist. Whoever wrote this article totally made up a source. And Ms. Aguilera wasn’t late because she was throwing a fit. She was late because she had the flu. Really. I found out later from her mother that she threw up in between the two songs. Poor girl.

So the National (every time I write that I accidentally write “Nathaniel” first) Enquirer wrote this completely bogus story, which got picked up by other bogus sources. An excerpt from “Christina Aguilera: A Star is Made: An Unauthorized Biography:”

Dorothy Hatch a writer for the high school newspaper claimed, “Colin [the contest winner] gave her a rose and said something like “Oh, you’re the kid who won the contest’ and gave him and his friend a CD and that was it.” [sic]

Lies!

What can we learn from this? Pop stars do not belong at high school proms. Amen.