Because I Don't Want to Go to Bed

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. 

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I'm Alive!

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. 

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On Patriotism

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. 

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Summerisms

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. 

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How we did family stuff together mostly

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.

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How I Fell Asleep Cuddling a Juice Box

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:

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Summer Speak

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.

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Arlington

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.

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Amazing

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.)

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She Can Pray

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.

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Is My Daughter Normal?

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

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The sad story of our camera and hair success!

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.

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The Bright Side

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.

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Blasphemy

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."

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Why Women Who Want Kids Should Not go to Law School

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. 

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Pride and Shame

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.

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Untitled

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.

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Discipline

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.

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True Love

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

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Accepting the Things I Cannot Change

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.

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Life Is Not Fair

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.

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Another Bad Mom Card?

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.

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Reslut

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

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Gender Roles

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:

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

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!

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Resolved

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

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Bad Mom Cards - Christmas Edition

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.

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Brown-Eyed Girl

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.

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Patronizing Emails

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!

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The Story of My Life

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.

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