Sock it to me

Last night after Rachel went to bed it was still a little too early to put Miriam to bed so I let her stay up. I told her that we could do something together but she didn't know what so I suggested a reading lesson (since we've been slacking in that department the past couple of weeks). She thought that was a great idea and was so excited that Daddy would be home during her reading lesson so that he could listen to her read. When it was time to read the story, she ran and got him before sounding out the following story:

He said, "Give me a rock or a sock." So she gave him a sock on his nose.

He said, "I need socks on the feet, not on the nose." So she gave him socks for his feet.

Andrew praised her good reading and the went back into his office while she and I did a second reading of the story, this time with comprehension questions sprinkled throughout her reading.

My mind was blown when the book prompted me to say, "What did she give him?  She must have hit him on the nose. Is that what he wanted? Nobody wants to get socked on the nose."

Socked on the nose? Do people still say that?!

We don't at our house. I know that I, for one, thought that "she" must've put "a knitted or woven covering for the foot" on his nose. That's what automatically comes to mind when I think of the noun sock.

I suppose "a vigorous or violent blow" is also a valid definition for the word and I realize they were trying to throw a pun in there for comic relief but...really? My four-year-old didn't get your joke.

When I think of socking (as a verb "to hit forcibly") I think "1920s gangster," not "four-year-old child sitting on the couch next to me." She's never encountered that meaning of the word in her life. The closest thing she's heard is probably DST (Dirty Sock Treatment, a nasty little prank Grandpa Reid enjoyed playing on his children where he takes off his socks and dangles them in front of their faces (I think it also might be a jibe at Grandma, an Arizona girl who detests DST: Daylight Savings Time)). Actually, DST might explain why our household so readily made the connection between cozy footwear and delicate noses.

Interestingly enough, when she was doing her reading she'd sound out "gaaaaavvvvvve" and then say, "gived!" She just couldn't bring herself to use the proper past-tense of the word give, I guess, but I'm sure she'll work that out eventually.

Anyway...

Is it just me or does this story sound antiquated to you? When's the last time you heard 'sock' being used violently?

Nursery

Due to Rachel's 103°F fever, Andrew and Rachel stayed home from church today. Using your powers of deduction you probably know this means I went to church with Miriam and Benjamin, alone. I spent an hour trying to keep them reverent quiet during sacrament meeting. Our bishop issued a bit of advice that parents try to keep their children's feet off the floor and I was a bit skeptical of this advice (since the bishop hasn't had to deal with an unruly toddler in over a decade) until a friend wrote a blog post extolling the very same advice—and she's right in the thick of the young-parent gig herself—so I thought I'd give it a go.

Miriam was fine (though I did let her colour kneeling down on the floor rather than sitting on her seat (because I believe children can listen and colour at the same time)) aside from the few time she decided to snatch toys from Benjamin (eliciting some shrill cries from him). Benjamin, though, was a handful!

He's too little to be very self-sufficient in any quiet activity. He can't colour without help. He can't be trusted to flip quietly through the hymn book. He can't even be handed a board book (because he'll likely toss it at the people in front of us). This means that I have to constantly be guiding his activities, which takes my attention away from the speakers.

We did our best this week, though I must admit that I did let him wander up and down the bench a few times while I relaxed and listened to what was being said. Next week is sure to go better...maybe.

Next week is our primary presentation. Once a year the primary children (ages three through eleven) put on a program for the rest of the congregation. They sing songs and each say a little part. It's fairly adorable, though it's quite the circus getting it ready!

NaBloPoMo

It's NaBloPoMo, that time of the year when you post every single day for an entire month.

I suppose I'll officially declare myself a participant. Andrew noted I was slacking this year—my average number of posts per month is down significantly compared to previous years.

I think there are a number of reasons for this:

1) I might be writing longer posts. I haven't really checked, but I do feel like a lot of my posts are lengthier than my earlier posts. (Andrew says he can get me a word count within half an hour; we shall see (because he also says he's pretty busy with other projects)).

2) We have three children. No explanation necessary...except that I always swore I would record my children's lives equally because my mom kept rather detailed journals for my older sisters. She made beautiful baby books for my older brother and me and kept slightly less-detailed journals for us. I think she may have even started a baby book for my younger brother. But my poor little sister? She has a box of unsorted pictures and a journal-thing half filled out. I don't blame my mother for this. Things get hard to keep track of.

3) We no longer live near family. When we lived in Utah (and only had two children) my mom would sometimes offer to take the girls to the playground so that I could write for a minute or two. Now all (or at least most) of my writing happens after the kids are in bed, which is when many other things are supposed to happen (such as the cleaning of the kitchen). Now we have three kids and only the two of us to provide for their every little need.

4) A lot of stressful things happened this year. Does anyone else feel like we got bombarded with bad news the past few months? Raise of hands? Yeah. We were busy dealing with other stuff and even though writing is my outlet sometimes there isn't even time for outlets.

5) I edited my mom's dissertation and a friend's book, which used up a lot of my writing time (but was also a lot of fun).

So, expect to hear more from me in November. A lot more, apparently, since I've already completed a third of my monthly average and it's only the first week...

Temple Date

Now that I know Benjamin will tolerate being left with a babysitter we're planning on going out a lot more often. We went to the temple again this morning to celebrate my friend's son's first birthday. He was born with half a heart and deemed too weak/little to be operable. My friend was told he'd die within a few hours of birth, but he didn't. He's been fighting ever since!

He had an operation a couple of months ago to put a stent in to help open his arteries. The doctors are hoping they'll strengthen/enlarge so they can do full-blown heart surgery.

So far, though, this little guy is going strong. He's a medical marvel. For some reason, against all odds, this little guy just keeps staying alive.

His mother attributes all his progress to faith and prayers. Prayers to heal the baby. Prayers to guide the medical experts. Prayers for their family unit to thrive despite all the stress of being in and out of the hospital.

Little moments

While Daddy was gone the girls were so good to me and to each other. Here they are colouring the puzzle Miriam got for her birthday (and, yes, Miriam has one dress on backwards with a jumper over top—it's sure to be the next big craze).

A bit about Benjamin

Benjamin likes to run his hands through his hair while he eats. I don't know where he gets that from. (Actually I do: From me. He gets it from me.) What's he wearing on his face tonight? Mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and green beans. He didn't touch the meatballs. I think the only thing that made it into his tummy were the olives (and he ate a ton of them).

Miriam's first big haircut

Ever since she decided not to be Rapunzel for Halloween, Miriam has been talking about cutting her hair. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it...until it got long enough to sit on and kept getting caught in all the wrong places and she started to refuse to let me brush it for days at a time.

This evening when I was bathing Miriam and Benjamin her hair got all wrapped around his arm so he was freaking out trying to get it off and she was freaking out because he was pulling her hair and I said, "Maybe it's time for a haircut." And then her hair got tangled in the limbs of a toy alligator and she said, "Maybe after bath time we can have haircut time."

So that's what we did.

She wanted it "as short as Rachel's but not as short as a boy's." We went for ten inches (so that she could donate to Locks of Love) but ended up cutting off about a foot.

She is quite pleased with the results. And I suppose I am, too, though part of me wants to lock her inside a doorless tower for the rest of her life. Or at least until she's twenty.

Halloween 2013

Rachel's teacher has a "pumpkin day" in his class every year, embracing Halloween as an educational opportunity rather than trying to ignore it while also trying to keep the children's attention. He is such a great teacher. He even sent home a note inviting Miriam to come participate in pumpkin day as well. She was thrilled to bits and pieces; Rachel was equally excited.

Miriam wasn't the only preschooler there (though Benjamin was the only baby). The teacher had invited a few other future-students to participate. He says that he loves having the little kids visit his class because (a) it's good for the students to read to younger kids, (b) the teacher thinks it's fun to show current students pictures of themselves in his classroom from days of yore, and (c) he figures it's better to have the parents with little ones there rather than not have enough parent volunteers.

Visiting Rachel's classroom worked out really well for us this year because when Andrew came home on October 29th I had to tell him that we had no pumpkins and no candy because all we'd done while he was gone was cough, sneeze, b;ow noses, change diapers, throw up, and stay up all night screaming (while also managing to turn the house into a complete disaster). I was hanging onto sanity by a thread. Pumpkins? Candy? Ain't nobody got time for that!

So here was an offer to get two pumpkins (one for each child who cared about such things) for $4 and all I had to do was show up and help 50 kids measure and weigh their pumpkins (and then stand back and pray no paint splattered in my direction)? Deal.

Enos

Andrew's amazingly skilled at guessing scripture references. This always impresses me because I'm hopeless when it comes to scripture references. I can quote passages of scripture just fine...until it comes to remembering the reference. This probably stems from having an inadequate scripture marking system (Andrew's is far superior).

Sometimes I will read him a random scripture and then quiz him on where to find it, just for fun. He's usually spot on for the book and chapter, though his verse identification could use some work. But who am I to talk, really, because I use him as my living, breathing topical guide when I'm too lazy to look up a scripture on my own.

Last night I read to him a passage from Enos, which, by the way, is a single-chapter book of scripture.

"And after I, Enos, had heard these words, my faith began to be unshaken in the Lord;" I read, then asked him sarcastically, "Where's that scripture?"

"I dunno," he said.

"Wha-ha-ha-hat?" I laughed.

"You caught me," he said sheepishly. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Let me read it again," I offered. "And after I, Enos, had heard these words, my faith began to be unshaken in the Lord."

"Oh, that's embarrassing," Andrew said. "Could it be...Enos 1?"

"And the verse?" I probed.

"Ten?" he guessed.

"So close. Eleven, but I'm also going to read twelve. And I prayed unto him with many long strugglings for my brethren, the Lamanites. And it came to pass that after I had prayed and labored with all diligence, the Lord said unto me: I will grant unto thee according to thy desires, because of thy faith."

Out of gas

On Wednesday night we had our ward Halloween party, which started at 6:30. I knew we'd be crunched for time since we had to eat dinner and get all costumed up, especially since Rachel's had a substitute bus driver this past week—which means her bus has been running about half an hour behind schedule. She didn't walk off that bus until 4:30 in the afternoon and—did I mention that's awesome because that used to be her regular time but there was some kid on her route who gets car sick so they reversed the route and now she is supposed to get dropped off at around 4:00.

I think I did a happy dance when I got that letter from the transportation department.

Anyway...

She wanted to play with the neighbours when she got home, so I told her that she was welcome to...until Daddy got home because then it was going to be time for dinner. I expected him home on time because we had this party to get to. But he was late.

I watched the minutes creep by on the clock.

5:05...

5:10...

5:15...

5:20...

5:25...

5:30...

Where was he?! He's not exactly the best at communicating when he's going to be late (eek!).