Reaching for the Past

Every once in a while I wonder what the people I knew in high school and college (undergraduate and graduate) are doing. Well, the other day I typed some names into the WWW—in other words I googled them—and I was happy to see some things and not so happy to see others. One friend, still active in the church, is living in NYC with his family and is pursuing the theater. Many more are not active, which saddens me. Maybe it is naive to think of them as the somewhat innocent people I knew in high school, but I am saddened by some of the hard shell that I see in their public image. Of course, I may very well present that same type of shell to others.

I wonder about the etiquette of googleing someone. Are you allowed to/supposed to comment? Do you identify yourself in the comment? I'm not sure what I'll be doing with this, but I'm glad to know that they still are alive and seem happy (even if I don't agree with their form of happiness).

* * *

That said, our older guy has become fascinated with dinosaurs. We picked up two books from the library (All Aboard the Dinotrain and How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight?), and he has been obsessed. Today he held his (invisible) green dinosaur's hand as we walked into the rec center for gymnastics. He also insists that he is going to have a green dinosaur birthday cake for his birthday "on Friday." (Try telling an almost-three-year-old that their birthday isn't for 3 weeks; they just don't get it.) We looked up some pictures on-line (tyrannosaurus rex, triceratops, brontosaurus, stegasuarus), but he couldn't decide which were right. He'd say, "This one, Mama," and then change his mind. He also plays dinosaur. It is all pretty funny because we don't have a single dinosaur in the house—at least not yet.

The little one has a new favorite place: he loves to eat the recipe books of the bottom shelf of the baker's rack. He has shredded two magazines and the family cookbooks. It is funny to see him so content there.

Pretty Pictures

This Post Brought to You by the Letter O

Our biggest guy has started learning his letters in a haphazard fashion. We sing random variations on the alphabet song, where, instead of repeating the letters, we come up with examples on a theme (ABC foods, or ABC names). It is fun, but there are surprise letters that always trick me. (Our guy also loves to help with suggestions: I'll be singing "C is for carrot and cauliflower." He will suggest, "And for Harry the Dirty Dog.")

We know the letters on the bathroom stool, sort of: everything stands for his name, or his friends' names (Q stands for Emmy, R stands for Azul). Occasionally he'll point out a letter on a sign or in a book. Sometimes I'll point to one I'm sure he knows—like S—and he'll be totally off.

About a week ago he came up to me in the kitchen with this:



"An O," he said.

I was immediately impressed, and took the picture. Then a video. I guess that for an hour or so I could brag that my son is a genius.

The Newest Book Group Member

I hosted Book Group this month—we read Cohelo's The Alchemist It was a great discussion; I appreciate the book now, while I really didn't like it after reading it. I wanted to make authentic Spanish cuisine. I thought of making tortilla española and paella, but decided on gazpacho, baguettes, Spanish cheeses, and torta de Santiago. (It wasn't my best version of baguette or torta, but the gazpacho was tolerable.)


My boys were sick of cooking by the end of the day, but after the little guy went down, the big guy helped put everything out on the table. It was so cute—he unstacked everything, and put the pieces of bread into the little cups (instead of the big bowl). Then he stayed up to help host. He commented on the book—"I think so, maybe."—and asked questions—"What is green?" All in all it was a joy, but I was grateful when his father came home and put him to bed.

Father's Day

This year for Father's Day, some friends and I decided to make matching ties for our husbands and sons. I bought the patterns and started down the road of problems. But the result for Stake Conference was great. Here are the ties, with all their problems.

Kicking at Independence

Our oldest boy has started declaring his independence from us:

(1) He went four days without an accident (waking up dry from naps and nighttime) and then followed with 3 days without urinary success (today he stood on the table while I explained why he wasn't getting his potty treats and rewards, then looked at me and said, "I'm going to have an accident," and peed right there on the table.)

(2) He has started being defiantly disobedient--if I say don't, he does. During baths if I tell him not to splash Friedrich, he starts splashing him worse. If I tell him not to jump on the bed, he does.

(3) He refuses to go to sleep at bedtime. He calls for "a drink of water," asks "wrap me Mama," and then, if I let him fuss, he screams and then, laying on the floor on his back, he starts kicking the door. Tonight, I decided I was just going to let him exhaust himself with, when the upstairs neighbors start stomping on the floor to tell us to be quiet. If my husband were home I would go upstairs and explain the situation--throw a little "your not letting me be a good mother" at them--but he isn't, which of course makes the situation a little more volatile. A little more fuel on the fire comes because he is so tired because he won't let himself fall asleep. I'm trying to find a happy medium between "get your butt in bed" and "I love you no matter what," especially hard since he is so sweet when he finally decides to go to sleep ("I love you, Mama, good night," and "Are you happy, Mama?" are the most common comments).

I don't know how to deal with this. I keep hoping it is a phase, but I'm sure it will last for a while. My mom says that he is smart because he knows exactly what to do to get me so mad. I wish I could figure out how to counter it to throw him off. But I'm stuck. Wish me (us) luck.

Moving and "Ma Ma"

The littlest guy is really growing up. He may still be the smallest of the group born in the last quarter of last year (or even the first quarter of this year), but he moves better and talks more than any of them. (Not that it is a competition.) He speeds along the floor, headed for his favorite things: shoes, electrical cords, paper, and the bathroom.

Today we returned the full-sized baby swing that we had been borrowing (the owners are moving at the end of the week) and pulled out our travel swing. It is mcuh closer to the floor, and the little guy thinks that it is his new toy. Shoes, electrical cords, paper: nothing will stop him from putting his hands on the swing and, keeping his feet on the ground, bouncing up and down.

He also says, "Mama." It actually sounds like "Ma ma ma ma ma ma" and refers to any person around. Yesterday he was saying it while sitting on my lap and looking at his older brother. After a while, his older brother insisted, "She's here. She's here." He didn't understand that his little brother was calling him "Ma ma." All I can say is that they grow up too quickly.