Forget a major breakthrough—it seems as if someone waved the “big-girl” wand over Rachel.
In addition to conquering her playground fears yesterday she also dispensed, used, and properly disposed of her toilet paper after going to the bathroom by herself. That’s the ultimate of potty-trainingness right there. She can do the whole process by herself.
She’s spent the whole day today in the basement playing with the dollhouse. By. Herself.
After it stopped raining this evening we went for a walk with my mom, who happens to live very close to a playground. Rachel knows this so while we were walking to Naanii’s house she suggested that we play at the park in at least ten different ways.
That was our first stop after picking up Naanii.
A few days before Auntie Sarah got married we went to Andrew’s work party, which was also my mom’s work party, and my brother’s work party (but he didn’t come). We joke that the library is a family affair—Andrew’s dad and uncle worked there during their undergrad; I worked there as a student as an actual staff member; my brother David took over my old job after he graduated and I quit to have Rachel, he also worked there as a student; Patrick works there; Emily works there; Andrew worked there while he was an undergrad student and now he’s working there again as a quasi-staffer. As you can see, staggering numbers of people in our family have worked there. It’s just the place to be.
To celebrate the 24th of July—also known as Pioneer Day—we went to a neighbourhood picnic, which was a lot of fun. Rachel, however, hasn’t seen many picnics in her day. In fact, I think the only picnic she’s ever been to was a teddy bear picnic we had in Cairo with some friends. It was pretty much a new experience for her.
We spread our blanket on the ground to claim our spot and then got in line for the food, which was plentiful. There were hot dogs and steak, corn on the cob (which Rachel loved—it was her first time eating corn on the cob and she probably had like three), salads, fruit, breads, desserts, a whole smorgasbord of dishes. Potlucks are fantastic.
Among the desserts was a beautiful strawberry cake. I took a piece, making room on my plate by crowding my actual dinner to the side. Andrew also took a piece, but he put his piece on a separate plate.
We returned to our blanket and began the juggling act that eating a picnic dinner with a three-year-old is. We didn’t even have Miriam at the time because Grandpa had walked off with her. Trust me, it was difficult enough with one child, drinks, plates, and feet to worry about.
I went running today for the first time in years. It was a short two-mile loop but my thighs are already screaming at me. When I walked in the door, dripping with perspiration, and panting like a dog Andrew greeted me with, “You’re back already?”
Yup. Fifteen minutes of agony and I’m back “already.” Thanks for keeping things in perspective, honey.
On Tuesday Rachel turned three. I promised her that I would make her a cake but have I done it yet? No. And frankly I’m not sure that I’m ever going to get around to it. What was I thinking promising her a cake on the one month anniversary of us moving across the world—and a pretty, pink, pig cake that tastes like strawberries at that? I wasn’t thinking we’d be this busy, that’s what I was thinking.
With Sarah’s wedding on Friday and Jacob’s farewell on Sunday there was very little time to think about Rachel’s birthday celebrations. Uncle Jacob was set apart as a missionary on Tuesday evening as well, which meant that we were sharing that day with him, too. But although I haven’t made that blasted cake yet I think we managed to squeeze in a nice celebration, anyway.
I almost forgot about this until this morning. Rachel is in the kitchen making banana bread with Grandma--we have a lot of leftover bananas from the wedding. Grandpa was just in there teasing Rachel (under the guise of eating breakfast) and this story came up so I thought I'd jot it down.
Shortly before Sarah got married we were all downstairs in the basement playing when Sarah came downstairs halfway and poked her head over the banister. She started gushing about this and that and that and this, as only Sarah can. Rachel still hadn't seen Sarah a lot since Sarah was working all day and spending all evening with Cory, only to return far past Rachel's bedtime, so Rachel wasn't too sure what to think about her yet.
She sat there listening to Sarah blather on for quite some time before looking up at her and saying, "You talk a lot."
We had a lot of fun this year I think, in part, due to the fact that we’ve just returned to the States and have been enjoying a constant stream of cold cereal. With Sarah’s wedding reception out of the way it seems our luck with continue—there were about seventy bags of cereal left over. I know this because today I made Rachel help me carry them downstairs to the storage room as part of a punishment for throwing a royal tantrum when I asked her to wash her face.
The way she was acting you would have thought I was forcing her to carry sandbags. In actuality each bag weighed maybe two pounds.
As I mentioned, we’ve been sick. We’re all doing much better now, thank you. Rachel is completely over her cough, Miriam is sleeping for much longer than forty minutes at a time, and my sinuses are almost cleared up. And it’s awesome.
Miriam was probably the sickest of us all. She ran a fever for a couple of days and then was stuck with this horrible, hacking cough that would shake her body from head to toes. After she finished coughing she’d whimper.
*Cough!*Cough!*whimper*
She was, in a word, pathetic. And things only got worse at night.
