I have friends, I definitely have friends...

There are times in my life when I think I'm pretty awesome. And there are other—and perhaps more frequent—times in my life when, honestly, I don't. Lately I've been feeling unlikable, which I keep trying to talk myself into believing is not true. I think I'm just at a phase in my life where my social circles feel a little depleted. And making new friends is hard! For example, step four in this article on how to make friends as an adult is "assume people already like you." Like that's easy or something.

Andrew reminds me that I have some good neighbourhood mom friends, and that's true. Our neighbours are so, so good. 

And my friend Crystal and I had a wonderful phone chat not too long ago...but it had been forever since we'd talked before that because...we're thousands of miles away from each other...and are quite busy being moms. 

(Man alive! We thought being moms to a bunch of toddlers was busy. No one warned us how busy things would get when those toddlers grew into teenagers and young adults! ...Well, maybe they did warn us, but did we listen? Ha!)

We had dinner with Reid and a new friend of his, which was lovely, and I'm excited to watch that relationship blossom (because it'll mean one more friend for me, right? That's step three of the article "make friends through friends you already have").

I can't ever talk about friends without talking about this song from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (because making friends as an adult (or kid) often feels very much like this):

But this week's most beautiful tender mercy was a little trip my friend Amanda planned to come out for a visit. It has been years since we've seen each other. She hasn't met Alexander or Phoebe and I haven't met either of her children (who go by Prima and Secundo online). That means it's been at least six years, but it's probably been more than that. In the intervening years, she moved to Japan (and sent us the sweetest little "care package" filled with Japanese goodies), had a baby, moved to California, moved to DC, and had a baby. I moved to Spanish Fork, had a baby, and moved to Georgia, and had a baby, and completed my master's degree. It's...been a while. 

Get yourself a man who...

Since Marshmallow died, Benjamin's terrarium (or vivarium, as he prefers to call it) has been sitting empty, reminding him of his bereavement. He's been begging for a frog, but frogs just seem so...high maintenance to me. Having to find live prey for them to eat? That basically means keeping pets...for a pet. 

So I suggested some Madagascar hissing cockroaches. Because anybody can keep a cockroach alive, right? They just eat kitchen scraps, basically, and are less...delicate...than their frog counterparts, a little more forgiving of their environment. 

But no one was particularly excited about that idea, including Benjamin. 

Last night, however, we were reading Shiloh (Phyllis Reynolds Naylor) and we got to the point where David Howard (the protagonist's best friend) shows him his new pet...hermit crab! And it didn't hit me right away, but it eventually dawned on me that a hermit crab might be the middle ground we're looking for!

I approached Andrew with the idea after the kids were in bed. 

"...so I thought we could get Benjamin a hermit crab."

"Oooh!" Andrew, clearly enthused (an 1827 backformation of enthusiastic). "That's a good idea! But where would we keep it?"

On Friday

It was warm (and dry) enough to run yesterday, so Benjamin and I put in a 5k, which was easier than we thought it would be considering the long-ish break we took during that cold/wet snap. I know that earlier I said that I'm more of a winter runner because I'm opposed to getting all hot and sweaty (I grew up in Canada where getting hot and sweaty isn't the norm) but I also don't particularly love running when it's cold outside (and I'm rather disinclined to obtain cold-weather running gear since...we live where we do...), nor when it's raining cats and dogs (though I rather enjoy running in a light rain). So what we could say is that I'm a unicorn runner. I run between x and y degrees, otherwise I'm hibernating or at the pool. 

After our run, I took the kids (Benjamin, Zoë, Alexander, and Phoebe) to the library where we picked out some new stories to read. Andrew created a website to track what we read, so now the kids—who have long (but inconsistently) been keeping track of what they read on spreadsheets—can see a real-time count of how many books they've read so far this year (as well as how many books their siblings) have read. It's been a real motivator around here! The kids are each determined to out-read one another. 

Needless to say, they were all quite excited about visiting the library. 

While we were walking through the parking lot, the kids were thrilled to come across quite a magnificent an oil splotch:

Botulism at the Iron Rod

On Sunday the youth speaker brought a can of beans up on the stand with him, specifically black-eyed peas. I wasn't sure what he was going to speak about per se, but when he held up the can and said, "I just have a can of black-eyed peas here," and set it down beside the microphone, assuring the congregation that "those are for later," I figured that...maybe he was going to talk about New Year's Day. Setting goals, welcoming new opportunities, things like that. 

After all, down in the south, eating black-eyed peas on New Year's Day is said to bring good luck. The speaker himself was raised in the south, but his parents were/are Mexican immigrants, though, so I wasn't sure if he would have grown up with the tradition of eating black-eyed peas on New Year's Day. My own children are of non-southern heritage themselves and we haven't adopted the tradition of eating black-eyed peas on New Year's Day. Many in our congregation are transplants to the south. But maybe there's, like, a Mexican New Year's tradition surrounding black-eyed peas...or beans in general...it's possible.

I spent quite a lot of time speculating about those beans, but everything I hypothesized was way off.

He spoke about the Vision of the Tree of Life and the importance of holding to the iron rod, which, in Lehi's vision, symbolizes the word of God.

"So imagine this Book of Mormon is the iron rod," he said, placing one hand on the book and lifting the can high into the air with his other hand. "And this can of beans represents temptations and things. But if I just hold fast to the iron rod..."

And with that he brought that can of beans down onto his hand. *BAM!*

It was...shocking.

"I'm just fine," he said. "But the can, you can see, is dented. Actually, my pinky hurts a little bit. But, like, only a little bit. It's fine, really. My hand is fine. Because I was holding to iron rod, see?"

I mean...I don't think it's a sacrament talk that we'll soon forget...that's for sure and certain.

And when we got home we had to see whether, in fact, this was an actual thing that people can do to themselves and emerge unscathed. So we watched a few YouTube videos (like this one) and then we went through several cans of pears. 

But evidently it's a thing you can do (it's physics!); we all did it and lived to tell the tale (though evidently it's better to use one finger than it is to use all your fingers like we did).

Here's a video of Andrew and Rachel trying it:

More Phoebe stories

While we were reading Romeo and Juliet yesterday, Phoebe was supposed to be quietly playing with her puzzles. Instead she was loudly announcing the name of each puzzle piece (e.g., cow! train!) as well as its accompanying sound (e.g., moo! choo-choo!) and banging them on the table. 

"Phoebe!" I complained. "You need to be quiet while we're reading, remember?"

"Otay, Mommy," she said. "Sorry, mean to."

"It's okay," I assured her. "Just play quietly if you want to be at the table with us, okay? Otherwise you can go play in the other room."

"Otay!" she cheerfully agreed. 

She climbed down from the table and ran off into the other room, so I figured that was the option she was choosing for the time being, but no! She soon scampered back into the dining room, having donned some noise cancelling headphones. She then recommenced playing even more loudly than before because to her altered perception she was being quieter.

I have to hand it to her, that was a creative (if ultimately ineffective) solution! 

Let's get together, yeah, yeah, yeah!

I won't say that I'm not jealous that I wasn't able to attend this gathering because I do wish that I could have been there. I'm sure Patrick and Josie feel the same (to some degree or another). We haven't managed to all be in the same country (let alone the same room) at the same time in decades. 

Decades, plural.

Multiple. Decades. 

One day, perhaps, we'll accomplish such a feat (perhaps we never will). In the meantime, I still think it's pretty cool that I saw every single one of my siblings within one calendar year (2023). Sure, it only took 13 days(!) of driving, a few international flights, hundreds of dollars in passport fees, and thousands of dollars between gas, hotel, and airfare. But it was worth it. 

So I'm not entirely jealous that I wasn't able to attend this gathering because my feelings of joy that these people got together overwhelms any amount of self-pity or longing that may have initially twinged in my heart. Look at these beautiful people!

Once there was an iceman...

We've been in the middle of—what for Georgia is—a deep freeze. But although the world is freezing, there's nary a snowflake to be seen, and the kids have thus been feeling a little shortchanged. We have a tradition of building a snowman with the first snowfall of the season (at least, or, when we live in the south every snowfall of the season). Benjamin was determined to use the cold weather to do just that, even if the cold weather wasn't offering any supplies. 

He grabbed a laundry basket (that he and his friend found in the back-backyard; my backyard is filled with junk they've found in the back-backyard) and trudged into the back-backyard to harvest some ice from the creek. He knows I worry about him when he's back there, but he's pretty good at being home in time to "check in" at our designated hour (whatever it might be), and right on target I looked out the window and saw Benjamin lugging his basket full of ice home.

Miriam on "Mighty Mo" and a belated Christmas "recital"

Yesterday Miriam's organ teacher invited her to attend "The Mighty Mo Tour" at Fox Theatre in Atlanta with her. I imagine its name comes from its manufacturer—the M.P. Möller Organ company—but I haven't really verified that. 

At the theatre, they listened to Ken Double (the organist) play some pieces and also got to go on a tour of the stage. Mighty Mo's console apparently lives in the basement, but can rise up when needed. It was originally built in 1929—but has undergone some extensive restoration work since then—and is currently the "second largest theater organ, [and] it utilizes 3,622 pipes ranging from the size of a ball point pen to 32 feet tall and wide enough for a man to stand in." Miriam tells me its pipes stand in 47 ranks and that it has 415 stops (which is a lot of stops).

She was very impressed! It's been a while since she played an organ of such a grand instrument, though to be fair...

She played on the Aeolian-Skinner organ that was once int he Trinity Church in New York (but which now resides in John's Creek United Methodist Church) about a year ago, and it has 120 stops and 161 ranks.

She's also played on the organ at the Tabernacle at Temple Square (formerly known as the Mormon Tabernacle), which is one of the largest in the world. It has 206 ranks (11,623 pipes)! The Conference Center organ is smaller (7,708 pipes in 130 ranks). 

Anyway, here she is playing Prelude and Fugue in F Minor by Bach:

Sunday, Sunday

We had a busy Sunday (again) this week. After sacrament meeting Miriam was sustained as the first counselor in the YW class presidency. Then we rushed off to primary to listen to Zoë give a talk. From there we headed to YM where Benjamin was ordained a deacon. Busy.

Zoë started writing her talk on Thursday night (I didn't find out about her talk until Thursday morning) and she wrote a very lovely paragraph retelling the story of Nephi and his brothers heading back to Jerusalem to retrieve the brass plates. I told her it was lovely, but that it could use some...further thought...because of course people think of 1 Nephi 3:7 when given the prompt of "I will go and do as the Lord commands." 

We spent some time talking about it over the dinner table, sharing stories about when we've "gone and done" and other scriptures that connect back to 1 Nephi 3:7. And then Zoë and I revisited her draft. Sometimes she dictated and I typed. Other times she asked to sit in the pilot seat and type for herself. 

This was the final product:

Floppy

I made Phoebe a Bluey doll for Christmas, which she simply wasn't very excited about even though it turned out pretty cute. What she was really excited about was a tiny "Floppy" that came with a Bluey action figure set that she got. Now, I knew that she loved the episode "Sleepy Time" but I had not realized how much she loved Floppy. Floppy is just a...toy...though I suppose Floppy comes to life in Bingo's dream scenes. 

Phoebe has been carrying around that tiny figurine ever since Christmas, which means she's also been losing it left and right. One of her most common phrases these days is, "Where Floppy? Where are you, Floppy? Where Floppy? Where?" It's a miracle we still know where Floppy is! 

Sooner or later, however, that tiny toy is going to disappear into thin air, so I decided that the best thing to do would be to crochet a Floppy doll for her, so I've been working on that for the past week or so. I finished late last night shortly before Phoebe stumbled into my room, so proud that she managed to stay in "Phoebe own bed" all night. 

"Oh, you didn't stay in your own bed all night," I said. "It's still the middle of the night, so you've got to go back to bed."

"Back to bed?!" she wailed. 

"I know," I said. "But it's still sleepy time. Do you want to go potty?"

She absolutely did not. We don't make her go in the middle of the night because she can get quite upset when we make her try while she's busy "staying dry" so we let her choose. She usually manages to stay dry all night, so whatever. 

"Do you want a little drink before you go back to your bed?"

She did. And my water bottle was sitting on my desk so (contrary to all advice to not share water bottles), I carried her over there and let her take a sip from my water bottle. There she spied the finished Floppy. 

"Floppy!" she said, thoroughly impressed. "Nice!"

"Do you want to take Floppy to bed?"

She did. So we grabbed Floppy and went back to bed. 

Phoebe has finally figured out that if she says, "Guess what!" she has to follow up with exciting news. On the one hand, this has been nice because I was tired of her leaving me hanging when I'd ask her "What?" and she'd just...walk away. On the other hand, she hasn't quite figured out what exciting news is so she usually just tells us something random. 

"Guess what, Mom!" she said, after I'd tucked her back in.

"What?"

"Floppy has eyes now."

"That's right. I finally finished making Floppy's face. Floppy has two eyes that are so tired. Floppy wants to go to sleep. Can you help Floppy go to sleep?"

"Yeah."

"Great."

"Guess what, Mom!"

"What?"

"Mommy made Floppy me!"

"I did!"

"Floppy so nice! And Mommy so nice!"

"Well, thank you, baby! It's time for sleeping now, though, okay? So hush-hush."

"Mommy, guess what!"

I eventually had to call Andrew up to take over for me because she was not going to stop talking to me. She woke up not in Phoebe's own bed, but in Mommy and Daddy's bed, where she continued to gush about Floppy (even though she'd left Floppy behind when she came to find me). I got up with her and we went downstairs where she found her small Floppy and asked me to take a picture of her and Floppy and Floppy.