Nursery-bound

Yesterday I took Alexander to Relief Society with me. I haven't taken him to class by myself for several weeks now and it made me feel very glad that he will soon be in nursery because he was quite the handful.

Are you ready for me to blow your mind? Because I just checked the calendar to see how many weeks of church we have to endure with him and the answer is one.

He has one week before he goes into nursery (the last Sunday in March). The week after that is General Conference weekend and then, magically, it's April 14 and he'll be 18 months old (which is old enough for nursery, though imagining that he'll just waltz in there is laughable (he's not going to like it, not one little bit))! That baby is such a momma's boy!

The Domino Effect

Today we celebrated Riley's birthday, though he won't actually turn four for a few more days. We don't go to his house often (in fact, I think the last time we went to his house was for his third birthday party) but the kids always have fun when we do because there are so many little people to pal around with.

I was pregnant with Benjamin at the same time that Cory's sister was expecting twins (if my memory is serving correctly) so when we all get together we have 5 rather rambunctious children—the 3 six-year-olds, Riley, and Zoë (plus Alexander and a motely collection of older cousins). It's pretty fun—so fun that Zoë even faced her fear of dogs so that she could play in the backyard with all the kids.

When we arrived Riley was already out in the backyard with the twins and his dog. Benjamin made a beeline for the backyard and Zoë trailed along behind him like she always does, but when she saw the dog she immediately backtracked and quickly closed the door behind her. There was no way she was going out there!

She sat forlornly for a few minutes, watching the children outside playing their little hearts out. Then she turned to me and said, "Mom, I think I'll go outside 'cuz you know what? Puppies don't bite people. They just run around and scare people!"

And with that she ran outside to join the passel of children in the backyard.

Abby (the dog) was having a blast playing fetch with some of the older cousins and wasn't paying the little kids any attention at all, so Zoë was pretty safe (Abby didn't even come up to sniff her).

We went through the typical birthday activities: pizza, presents, and cake.

Here's Riley opening a few gifts:

Labial Frenectomy III

Poor Alexander seems doomed to have no very good stories to tell...ever.

On Tuesday when my mom stopped by to pick Miriam up for organ (which we're so grateful for because I don't know how we would have been able to have Miriam take this organ class without my mom's help), Alexander tripped while walking and landed flat on his face, partially tearing his little labial frenulum.

"My! He's a fragile little guy!" my mom remarked.

I mean, first he breaks his arm while crawling and then he trips, face plants, tears his frenulum and bloodies his lip. Sheesh. It really doesn't take much for this kid!

Today he finished the job—giving himself a full frenectomy—and still without a very cool story to tell.

He hadn't attempted to climb onto the roof of a couch cushion fort, causing it to collapse and propelling him into the organ bench, thus severing his frenulum (like Rachel). Nor did he tumble down the stairs of the deck to do so (as Benjamin did).

No, nothing quite exciting or adventurous as that.

You know it's been a long and trying semester when...

...you pull the calendar up on your phone to see if anyone has signed up for office hours with your professor husband and tell your children, "I'm just checking to see if Daddy can come over a little earlier today."

And by over I naturally mean home because he lives here, duh.

Even if sometimes it doesn't feel like it.

Guess what? Ahoy! Benjamin bikes! He's a biker! He bikes!

I've been trying to teach Benjamin how to ride a bike for quite some time. He figured out the tricycle pretty fast but lacked the patience required to learn how to ride a bike. Or a scooter. Or even to pump on a swing.

You'd think that those sorts of things would be attractive to my active little boy, but you'd be wrong because my little boy was too active to sit still long enough to learn how to do any of them!

He couldn't sit on a swing long enough to learn how to pump his legs (though he did manage to figure it out this past summer). Whenever I'd try to get him to try he'd sit for all of five seconds before popping back off the swing so he could run around.

We had the same issue with his scooter (though he did manage to figure that out earlier this year on a warm winter day). Whenever I'd try to get him to try he'd furiously pound his pumping leg against the sidewalk for five or six steps, then throw his scooter aside and start running around.

Likewise, I could not get him to sit on a bike for more than a few seconds at a time before he'd hop off and start running around like wild.

(Spoiler alert: While he was working with Benjamin today, Garrett wondered aloud how Benjamin hadn't learned to ride without training wheels "yet," but this is why—I honestly couldn't get him to sit still long enough to sit on a bike).

It was frustrating because very clearly he is a child who needs this sort of outlet, but he pushed against learning anything. He seemed to lack the coordination, the balance, the determination, the desire to learn any of it. It wasn't quite as frustrating as trying to teach him to eat was (hello, NICU days) because this wasn't a matter of his survival, but it was still rather frustrating because it was a matter of my survival (or at least my sanity).

Learning to swing was a marvelous thing for him.

Learning to ride his scooter was even better (I can't tell you how many "scooter walks" we've gone on recently (he scooters (and Zoë scooters) and I push Alexander in the stroller)).

Learning to ride his bike would make this a childhood trifecta! His summers could be carefree and glorious if he would just sit. on. his. bike. long enough to learn how to pedal.

An artsy-fartsy weekend

Growing up, f-rt was considered such a vulgar word in my home that to this day I cannot hear it without cringing. Andrew's home was the very same way. So very naturally, the word still goes largely unused in our home (though, weirdly, many of our siblings use it with reckless abandon, which, I mean, like, to each their own, but...how?! How does it not grate your ears, guys?!).

Oddly enough, however, the phrase "artsy-fartsy" does not bother me in the slightest, so that would be the one use of the word f-rt that I would consider appropriate.

And that's just the kind of weekend we had—an artsy-fartsy one! It was a long weekend because the children didn't have school on Friday and BYU had Friday off for spring break day. It felt marvelous to get to take things slow Friday morning. Rachel went to the temple with some friends. We puttered around the house. And then we headed out to the Springville Museum of Art, which we've somehow never been to even though it's amazing!

Alexander at 17 months

I missed writing about Alexander at 16 months, which is a shame because that's right when he learned how to walk! Oh, well. He's 17 months old now, which means we're just one month away from entering nursery (not that I think he'll go without a fight).

Rachel's Cinderella

Rachel was kept hopping on Wednesday and Thursday with four performances of Cinderella! We skipped her matinee shows and instead hit her evening shows. Andrew had to work late on Wednesday so Grandpa and I took the little ones and saved seats for Naanii and Auntie Josie. On Thursday Andrew and I took the kids again (since Andrew hadn't seen it yet and I didn't want to stay at home with all the kids). 

Not Rachel

An Eggs-tra Special Pi Day

I made quiche for dinner on Thursday—Pi Day—with Zoë's help, of course. I can't seem to do anything in the kitchen without her help (except when it comes to putting away the clean dishes, which is her actual kitchen job). 

I cracked fifteen eggs into a bowl (because our family is somewhat ginormous) and let her whisk them up. I added some spices, some milk. She kept stirring while I went to check on how the pie crust was coming along. Because we were in a rush to get dinner on—Rachel had curtain call for her school musical at 5:00—I decided we'd make mini quiches in a muffin tin (which I would refer to a as a tart: a small "open pie" (with no crust on top), but definitions of pie vary wildly, it seems, so you might not refer to it as a tart simply because it's a miniature pie). Tarts bake much faster than pies!

Anyway, Rachel and Miriam were given the task of filling muffin cups with pie dough but, being the inexperienced pie makers that they are, they were taking forever to get it done. Miriam was working the dough so much in her hands it was warm and goopy by the time she pressed it into the muffin pan; Rachel was stretching her dough so paper-thin that she kept poking holes in it. So I showed them (again) how to quickly make a ball and flatten it and spread it in the muffin cup. We were all three rolling dough in our hands when I heard a slurping sound from behind us. 

ssssssssssllluuuuuurrrp!

Thankful Tree 2018

We put up last year's Thankful Tree on Canadian Thanksgiving—October 8, 2018—and just took it down today—March 15, 2019. We got distracted from it for a while (hello, November) so I don't think it ever got quite as full as it could have. But also it was nice to have it stay up as a reminder that we have so much to be grateful for. But considering it outlived Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, and Valentine's Day (and St. Patrick's Day and Easter are right around the corner), it was high time for it to come down.