As you've probably noticed, we take a lot of pictures. Hundreds. Thousands even. We have over 10,000 digital pictures and videos on our computer--a little over 100GBs worth.
Most of these are stored on Nancy's computer, which has a measly 18 GB hard drive. Last year we bought a 160 GB external hard drive for long term photo storage since both our computers were getting cramped. It worked perfectly for holding all our valuable archived information, documents, videos, and photos.
Note the past tense. Three weeks ago the hard drive crashed and died, taking with it our thousands of files.
In a normal situation, all hope would have been lost. Hard drive recovery can cost upwards of $1,000 and is not guaranteed--you have to send the drive to some Indian company and hope that it doesn't die a more complete death during shipping.
Luckily, back in February we decided to start using Mozy.com, an online backup company that offers unlimited storage space "in the cloud" for backups. You install their program on your computer and it automatically uploads anything you deem important up to their servers, distributed across the world. It then runs every day and backs up any changes you make, giving you constant access to all your files.
The initial upload of 90+ GB took a week and a half to finish, but the daily backups only take 5-10 minutes, adding our newly taken photos and updating anything we changed. After the initial upload, we ignoredMozy and let it run its course.
When the hard drive crashed, all our stuff was saved securely on Mozy's server. It took 5 days to download everything back to our newly-purchased-from-Costco 500 GB external hard drive. Nothing was lost. Nothing. It was a miracle.
I hate to imagine what we would have done had we not started using Mozy.
Moral of the story: have some backup system; some "data insurance." You will need it. Use "the cloud" for sure safety. Even if our house burns down, there's a massive earthquake that completely destroys Utah, or whatever, our files are safely backed up.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Saying Bye-Bye: Rachel at Nine Months
Rachel in her pyjamasPart of our morning ritual is to see Daddy off to work. We give him hugs and kisses and wave bye-bye at the door and then we run to the window and knock on it while he gets in his car.
Rachel is pretty consistent with her kisses. She always is sure to give Daddy a big, slobbery one before he leaves. And usually she's okay with waving bye-bye, wildly flapping her arm...but only after Daddy closes the door. Her favorite part is definitely looking out the window. She licks the glass and bangs her forehead and fists on it and smiles at Daddy (and anyone else who happens to be watching the show).
This morning started out unlike any other. Rachel played with Daddy for a few minutes until it was time to go. After family prayer Rachel got to snuggle with Daddy and then he passed her off to me so that he could put on his backpack. We went to the door as usual and Daddy stood outside waving at Rachel while she and I stayed inside waving back.
"Say bye-bye," we prompted her.
Much to our surprise, Rachel put out her hand, gave a little wave, and said, "Bab bab!"
"That's right!" I said, "Say bye-bye!"
"Bab bab!" she said again, waving.
"Bye-bye!" said Daddy.
"Bab bab!" said Rachel.
We waved and said bye-bye for quite a bit longer than usual, we were so caught up with Rachel actually waving before the door was closed and that she was saying something that sounded similar to bye-bye.
Eventually Andrew really did have to leave, so we went to the window to wave and she kept saying bye-bye to Daddy while waving her little heart out. Quite an exciting start to the day.
I'm not sure that I'm convinced that she knows what she's saying yet. She's been mimicking quite a lot lately. Yesterday we were making a crossword puzzle with her blocks. First we spelled 'Rachel' and then we spelled 'Daddy' using the 'A' in 'Rachel.' Next we tried to spell 'Mommy' but were having a hard time finding enough ems.
"M, M, M," I said, "Where's an M? Is this an M? No. That's an H. Where's an M? Do you have an M?"
"EM!" Rachel yelled, showing me a sideways T.
"Close," I said, "We want an M though, not a T. Where are all the ems?"
"EM!" She said again (that should make Auntie Em happy--Jacob, keep working on making her say "Juh." Good luck.) after digging through the pile of blocks.
"No, that's not an M. That's a Q. Where are all the ems? M, M, M."
"Em, em, em," she repeated.
Playing with the blocksSo, Rachel's repertoire of words now includes mama, dada, bye-bye, em and the occasional amen. Although all these syllables are more often than not also involved in nonsensical babbling, there are times when she says them and means them. Except for em. I don't think she knows that M is a letter of the alphabet. I think she thinks it means something along the lines of, "Is this the block you were looking for, mom?"
Rachel is also starting to take notice of facial features. She loves to point out noses, mouths, and eyes in the mirror (it's a great way to pass the time while she's sitting on the potty). This morning she was lying in bed holding onto both of her ears. Andrew went and picked her up and she held onto her ears until she was sitting up in his arms. Then she reached out and grabbed hold of his ears.
Milk baby!She also likes to stand. Yesterday when Daddy came home from work she crawled right over to him, pulled herself up and then let go and just stood there with a look on her face that said, "Yes, I know I'm awesome." Then this morning she was crawling over to me to give me a hug but stopped a few paces in front of me and held out her hand. I held out my hand and she pulled herself up, took a few steps forward (while holding my hand), let go and fell into me with her arms wide open and gave me a big bear hug!
The longest she's stood up by herself, that we know of, has been about a minute. She loves to show off to other babies. At church on Sunday Andrew took her out in the hall and there were two little baby boys playing on the floor: Russel and Braiden. Rachel got down to play with them and they all ended up in a triangular dogpile, each using the other to push up into standing position while being pulled down by whoever was trying to use them as an aide.
She still loves to crawl, but also enjoys walking around holding onto our hands. She squeals with delight everytime we take her outside and loves to go to the park.
Let's see...what else does Rachel like to do?
She likes for me to help her balance things on her head. She'll hold very still for a few seconds and then will tip her head to the side so that whatever it was will fall off.
She loves water. She loves drinking water from cups, sippy cups, bottles, the bathtub, and any other source--I've had to stop her from drinking from puddles. The only thing she hasn't mastered is the straw but she'll figure that out soon enough, I'm sure. She loves the water guns we have, both being sprayed by them and drinking out of them. And she still loves bath time and showers passionately. I hear that the pool in Lehi has lifted the diaper ban. We'll have to try to take her there this summer.
She's getting a lot gentler with books (we're still working on the people thing) and hasn't completely mutilated a magazine in quite some time. Instead she'll flip through and point at the pictures. That's a nice change. She'll often choose a book from her shelf and bring it over to us so that we'll read it for her.
She loves playing with keyboards, both piano and computer. She loves opening and closing drawers and cupboard doors (our pots and pans are in constant disarray). She loves turning on and off the lights. She'll eat anything: cantaloupe, pickles, salsa, random things off the floor. She likes to help feed herself. She can crawl up the stairs. She loves to try to ride tricycles and climb up the slide at the park. She loves to try to unplug things from electrical sockets and try to stick her fingers in them, even though this is strictly not allowed.
Open up that program, please!She loves to stick her fingers in anything small, actually.She doesn't dump the toy boxes out as often and instead will choose one toy to play with. She likes to try to pull the toys out through the small holes on the bins, which is very frustrating for her because nothing really fits through those holes, except for her fingers.
Me want food!She doesn't like getting her diaper changed or getting dressed. She's scared of big animals and her grandpas. She doesn't like being told no but enjoys shaking her head emphatically back at us.
We continue to be amazed with how fast she is growing up. I miss my little baby Rachel, but it's been fun to watch her grow up so far. I just wish she'd slow down a little bit sometimes.
Monday, April 21, 2008
The Landing Pad
We have a little table that sits by our front door where Andrew dumps everything out of his pockets upon arriving home. He calls it "the landing pad" and he loves it.
It used to work well for keeping keys, wallets, cell phones, receipts, coins, etc. out of Rachel's reach when she first started pulling herself up on things. She was very content to just pull herself up on the couch and hit the cushions, or pull herself up on the table and bang on the glass. Eventually, though, she got bored with that and started seeking out challenges such as the kitchen stools, the TV stand, and the wall.
One of her challenges was the landing pad. It is rather lightweight and unstable and she has tipped it over more times than I can count. Sometimes she would tip it over and just fall onto her bum. Other times though, things ended much more painfully. She would pull it right on top of herself, landing backwards, smacking her head on the hardwood floor, with the table landing on top of her.
A less traumatic ending to a fall
It used to work well for keeping keys, wallets, cell phones, receipts, coins, etc. out of Rachel's reach when she first started pulling herself up on things. She was very content to just pull herself up on the couch and hit the cushions, or pull herself up on the table and bang on the glass. Eventually, though, she got bored with that and started seeking out challenges such as the kitchen stools, the TV stand, and the wall.
Rachel and the landing padOne of her challenges was the landing pad. It is rather lightweight and unstable and she has tipped it over more times than I can count. Sometimes she would tip it over and just fall onto her bum. Other times though, things ended much more painfully. She would pull it right on top of herself, landing backwards, smacking her head on the hardwood floor, with the table landing on top of her.
A less traumatic ending to a fallOn one of these more painful occasions, I rushed over to pick Rachel up and comfort her. She was screaming her "I'm HURT!" cry so I couldn't resist. Usually she just screams at the table offendedly, "How DARE you drop ME?!!" and she doesn't sound hurt at all. This time, however, I watched her fall flat on her back and the table beamed her in the forehead. Obviously it hurt.
While I was comforting Rachel Andrew went to clean up the mess. I can't remember quite when it happened--it was quite a few weeks ago--but it must have been a Saturday because Andrew was home and all of his pocket-things were on the landing pad when it fell over. His cell phone landed by the toy box, his keys flew over by the computer, and a number of other things had flown across the room.
He started walking towards the landing pad, tripped on Rachel's stroller, and landed on the upturned table, smashing it to pieces. It was also a bad fall. He was lying face down, with his arm twisted awkwardly underneath him, his face crammed against the door, and his legs resting at tortuous angles. He looked oddly like a chalk outline of a homicide victim. Before seeing him sprawled out like that, I had never imagined that a body could actually be in such an awkward position.
"Are you alright?" I screamed over Rachel. Andrew's fall had started her up again.
"Ow," was all he said.
After a few minutes we got him up from the floor.
"That's the end of the landing pad, I think," I informed Andrew.
"Wait a, OW!" he bent over the wreckage, "Minute."
There was a little bit of splintering, but the table had only come apart at the joints so he was able to put it back together in minutes. So perhaps it really was a sturdy table, just a little wobbly and prone to tipping.
The interesting thing is that I noticed, a few days later, that Rachel could pull herself up on the table. She was very ginger about it, balancing herself using one hand on the table and one hand on the couch and very slowly moving from a squatting position to standing.
I watched her balance for a few minutes and then, once she was feeling confident that the table wasn't going to tip, lift herself up on her tip toes in order to bite the table top. Only then did the table start to tip over. Teething for Rachel is painful in more than one way, although she hasn't knocked the table over for quite some time. Perhaps she's learned something.
While I was comforting Rachel Andrew went to clean up the mess. I can't remember quite when it happened--it was quite a few weeks ago--but it must have been a Saturday because Andrew was home and all of his pocket-things were on the landing pad when it fell over. His cell phone landed by the toy box, his keys flew over by the computer, and a number of other things had flown across the room.
He started walking towards the landing pad, tripped on Rachel's stroller, and landed on the upturned table, smashing it to pieces. It was also a bad fall. He was lying face down, with his arm twisted awkwardly underneath him, his face crammed against the door, and his legs resting at tortuous angles. He looked oddly like a chalk outline of a homicide victim. Before seeing him sprawled out like that, I had never imagined that a body could actually be in such an awkward position.
"Are you alright?" I screamed over Rachel. Andrew's fall had started her up again.
"Ow," was all he said.
After a few minutes we got him up from the floor.
"That's the end of the landing pad, I think," I informed Andrew.
"Wait a, OW!" he bent over the wreckage, "Minute."
There was a little bit of splintering, but the table had only come apart at the joints so he was able to put it back together in minutes. So perhaps it really was a sturdy table, just a little wobbly and prone to tipping.
The interesting thing is that I noticed, a few days later, that Rachel could pull herself up on the table. She was very ginger about it, balancing herself using one hand on the table and one hand on the couch and very slowly moving from a squatting position to standing.
I watched her balance for a few minutes and then, once she was feeling confident that the table wasn't going to tip, lift herself up on her tip toes in order to bite the table top. Only then did the table start to tip over. Teething for Rachel is painful in more than one way, although she hasn't knocked the table over for quite some time. Perhaps she's learned something.
More teeth coming soon
For those of you, including us, who thought that Rachel would only have two teeth for the rest of her life, rest assured. She's now getting her top middle four teeth in all at once. I tried to take a picture of them, sitting just below her gums, but that proved impossible since she is always chewing on something.
She's been remarkably stoic about the whole situation, still sleeping through the night (for the most part) and hasn't been too whiny. At least, not anything compared to when she got her first two teeth in...three months ago. I think part of the reason she's coping better this time around is because she's a lot more self sufficient. She doesn't have to wait for us to hand her things to chew on. She's perfectly capable of getting things herself.
This morning she was sitting on the floor chewing on a toy. I said something and she turned her head to look at me, moving her other hand as she did so to put her brush in her mouth. She only took it out of her mouth to follow Andrew into the kitchen to watch him get breakfast.
He came out of the kitchen but she didn't and I could hear some suspicious noises so I went to go check on her and she was chewing on a spatula.
"Did daddy give you that?" I cooed, "What a lucky girl!"
"Did daddy give her what?" Andrew asked.
"The spatula she's chewing on," I reminded him, thinking that he had just given it to her.
"I didn't give her anything," he said.
That means she must have opened the drawer, picked out a utensil, and then closed the drawer again. None of the drawers were open and we haven't used that particular spatula in quite some time so unless Andrew gave it to her, which he didn't, she must have gone searching for something to chew on.
Not that finding something to chew on is particularly difficult for her. I'm pretty picky about what I'll chew on: gum, food, fingernails, pen lids, etc. Rachel, on the other hand, is perfectly comfortable putting nearly anything in her mouth. She chews on tables, paper, clothes, toys, flip flops, other babies, books, chairs, sticks, leaves...anything that she can possibly get her mouth on becomes a teether.
When she stands up in her crib she can chew on her crib bars if she stands on her tip toes, which she does frequently. She hasn't been wanting to go to bed lately and will cry for me to come and give her one last snuggle before bed. When I walk into her room she'll be standing up, holding her favorite blankey, and gumming her crib bars while crying.
The other night she was screaming, as per her usual, and I walked in her room expecting her to be standing on her tip toes with her chin shoved in between the bars so that she could chew on the underside of the top bar. Instead she was reposefully gnawing on the top of the crib bar; she was a whole lot taller than I expected her to be, having to hunch over slightly to put her mouth on her crib.
I was a little confused until I picked her up and found that she had pulled the box of wipes off of her changing table and was standing on it!
In a way, I suppose it is a good thing she's waited this long to get her next few teeth. That was she can worry about how and what she chews on things and I don't have to be her only source of comfort.
She's been remarkably stoic about the whole situation, still sleeping through the night (for the most part) and hasn't been too whiny. At least, not anything compared to when she got her first two teeth in...three months ago. I think part of the reason she's coping better this time around is because she's a lot more self sufficient. She doesn't have to wait for us to hand her things to chew on. She's perfectly capable of getting things herself.
This morning she was sitting on the floor chewing on a toy. I said something and she turned her head to look at me, moving her other hand as she did so to put her brush in her mouth. She only took it out of her mouth to follow Andrew into the kitchen to watch him get breakfast.
He came out of the kitchen but she didn't and I could hear some suspicious noises so I went to go check on her and she was chewing on a spatula.
"Did daddy give you that?" I cooed, "What a lucky girl!"
"Did daddy give her what?" Andrew asked.
"The spatula she's chewing on," I reminded him, thinking that he had just given it to her.
"I didn't give her anything," he said.
That means she must have opened the drawer, picked out a utensil, and then closed the drawer again. None of the drawers were open and we haven't used that particular spatula in quite some time so unless Andrew gave it to her, which he didn't, she must have gone searching for something to chew on.
Not that finding something to chew on is particularly difficult for her. I'm pretty picky about what I'll chew on: gum, food, fingernails, pen lids, etc. Rachel, on the other hand, is perfectly comfortable putting nearly anything in her mouth. She chews on tables, paper, clothes, toys, flip flops, other babies, books, chairs, sticks, leaves...anything that she can possibly get her mouth on becomes a teether.
When she stands up in her crib she can chew on her crib bars if she stands on her tip toes, which she does frequently. She hasn't been wanting to go to bed lately and will cry for me to come and give her one last snuggle before bed. When I walk into her room she'll be standing up, holding her favorite blankey, and gumming her crib bars while crying.
The other night she was screaming, as per her usual, and I walked in her room expecting her to be standing on her tip toes with her chin shoved in between the bars so that she could chew on the underside of the top bar. Instead she was reposefully gnawing on the top of the crib bar; she was a whole lot taller than I expected her to be, having to hunch over slightly to put her mouth on her crib.
I was a little confused until I picked her up and found that she had pulled the box of wipes off of her changing table and was standing on it!
In a way, I suppose it is a good thing she's waited this long to get her next few teeth. That was she can worry about how and what she chews on things and I don't have to be her only source of comfort.
I Won You!
Andrew's family took a little trip to Elmo, Utah over Spring Break. There is nothing of note about Elmo--about 350 people live there--they just went to say that they had been. Since they were down in that part of Utah and discovered there was little to do in Elmo, they visited the dinosaur museum in Price.
While walking around they had a discussion about Utah's state dinosaur, which apparently used to be the Allosaurus but is now the Utahraptor. Having just ended the discussion they stumbled upon the Utahraptor display, whereupon Jacob whispered to Emily,
"What's a Uta-ha Raptor?"
Utah, Jacob, Utah. Not Uta-ha.
He's lived here, in Utah, his whole life, which only adds to the hilarity.
Of course, I wouldn't doubt that, having been a Utah resident for almost seventeen years, he's picked up on the phrase "I won you!" to express a triumph, where others might say, "I beat you!"
That phrase has always bothered me. I first encountered it while playing games with a group of friends shortly after moving here. Since I was the only non-native Utahan in the room, I was severely outnumbered. I don't remember much about the game, except that I didn't win.
Whoever it was that won declared, "I won you!"
"Don't you mean, 'I beat you?'" I asked naively.
Everyone in the room was quite sure that the correct phraseology was in fact, "I won you!"
I have yet to be swayed, but I do like to use the phrase periodically in derision. Such was the case tonight. We were playing Triominoes. We like that game.
I had just won three games in a row and, contrary to Utah-belief, I didn't win Andrew at all. I won the game. I beat Andrew. I beat him over and over and over again. He was feeling a little sad so decided to challenge me to a "winner takes all" match, which I promptly declined. That would be like putting all my bragging rights on the line.
"What are you?" he asked, "Chicken? Come on, double or nothing!"
"That doesn't even make sense," I said calmly, "We're not gambling."
"Chicken!" he accused.
"Fine," I said, "If you get up and dance around the room like a chicken, I will think about it. If your dance is good enough, I'll play."
Apparently he really wanted to play another round because he stood up so fast that he chair fell over. His first attempt at a chicken dance was a little pathetic, due in part to the shock of knocking his chair over. I told him it was a no go. He got much more enthusiastic after that, flapping his arms just so and bawking at just the right time.
He was busy strutting around, bobbing his head, and pretending to peck at invisible feed when I finally gave in to his request under the condition that even if he won this round I would maintain my bragging rights.
And wouldn't you know it--I lost! But I'm perfectly fine with that because the truth is that I beat him fair and square in 3 of 3 games and he danced around the kitchen like a chicken for a good five minutes. He may have beaten me, but I certainly won him!
While walking around they had a discussion about Utah's state dinosaur, which apparently used to be the Allosaurus but is now the Utahraptor. Having just ended the discussion they stumbled upon the Utahraptor display, whereupon Jacob whispered to Emily,
"What's a Uta-ha Raptor?"
Utah, Jacob, Utah. Not Uta-ha.
He's lived here, in Utah, his whole life, which only adds to the hilarity.
Of course, I wouldn't doubt that, having been a Utah resident for almost seventeen years, he's picked up on the phrase "I won you!" to express a triumph, where others might say, "I beat you!"
That phrase has always bothered me. I first encountered it while playing games with a group of friends shortly after moving here. Since I was the only non-native Utahan in the room, I was severely outnumbered. I don't remember much about the game, except that I didn't win.
Whoever it was that won declared, "I won you!"
"Don't you mean, 'I beat you?'" I asked naively.
Everyone in the room was quite sure that the correct phraseology was in fact, "I won you!"
I have yet to be swayed, but I do like to use the phrase periodically in derision. Such was the case tonight. We were playing Triominoes. We like that game.
I had just won three games in a row and, contrary to Utah-belief, I didn't win Andrew at all. I won the game. I beat Andrew. I beat him over and over and over again. He was feeling a little sad so decided to challenge me to a "winner takes all" match, which I promptly declined. That would be like putting all my bragging rights on the line.
"What are you?" he asked, "Chicken? Come on, double or nothing!"
"That doesn't even make sense," I said calmly, "We're not gambling."
"Chicken!" he accused.
"Fine," I said, "If you get up and dance around the room like a chicken, I will think about it. If your dance is good enough, I'll play."
Apparently he really wanted to play another round because he stood up so fast that he chair fell over. His first attempt at a chicken dance was a little pathetic, due in part to the shock of knocking his chair over. I told him it was a no go. He got much more enthusiastic after that, flapping his arms just so and bawking at just the right time.
He was busy strutting around, bobbing his head, and pretending to peck at invisible feed when I finally gave in to his request under the condition that even if he won this round I would maintain my bragging rights.
And wouldn't you know it--I lost! But I'm perfectly fine with that because the truth is that I beat him fair and square in 3 of 3 games and he danced around the kitchen like a chicken for a good five minutes. He may have beaten me, but I certainly won him!
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Discovering Pencil Crayons
Every time I turned around yesterday it seemed that Rachel was chewing, sucking, or chocking on some small, taboo object. A little piece of string, a carpet fiber, a dried up piece of hot glue, a cantaloupe seed, a piece of cheese, a little dust bunny.
Finally we called an official timeout from studying, playing, and dishes in order to do an emergency vacuum/sweep/mop job. Andrew stopped studying to vacuum, I stopped doing the dishes to sweep and mop, and Rachel stopped playing in order to watch daddy vacuum (that machine is so interesting).
Unfortunately, even after we had finished cleaning our floors Rachel was still finding odd little things to eat. I think she keeps a stash of contraband choking hazards somewhere in her bedroom. I'll have to check under her mattress or something.
We were both sick of prying her mouth open to dig out soggy bits of paper and other treasures so decided that she was hungry and fed her. That didn't work either. She continued to find little things to stick in her mouth after she had eaten.
It was like that was her one and only goal, to roam the house and find any bit of anything that the broom and vacuum missed.
She was still busy scavenging when I started preparations for dinner last night. I could hear her singing while she crawled around the house; her music only stopped when she was putting something in her mouth so that was my cue to find her and dig whatever it was out.
"La la ma ba *pause* ba *suck* ba *suck* la," I would come and dig out a soggy ball of string and something rather unidentifiable, causing a few tears to be shed.
"Ma ma ma da ga ka *pause* mruph *suck, suck* ktp ba *gag*," I would come and make her spit out a small rock and some dust fluff. She'd cry for a minute and then would cowboy up and go on the hunt again.
We went on like that for quite some time until instead of a short pause I heard a long pause followed by a tinkling sound. I ran to the bedroom and found Rachel, sitting on the floor by the night stand with my scriptures in her lap. In them she had found a little box of pencil crayons, which she was violently shaking, raining down pencil crayons all around her.
When they were all out of the box she grabbed a few and stuck them in her mouth.
I got some paper and showed her how to color on it and then helped her make a few marks on the paper herself. She had fun but, since most of her fun came from putting the pencils in her mouth and ripping sheets of paper off the pad, I don't think we're quite ready for coloring yet. At least it distracted her from her quest for small things long enough for me to get some work done.
Finally we called an official timeout from studying, playing, and dishes in order to do an emergency vacuum/sweep/mop job. Andrew stopped studying to vacuum, I stopped doing the dishes to sweep and mop, and Rachel stopped playing in order to watch daddy vacuum (that machine is so interesting).
Unfortunately, even after we had finished cleaning our floors Rachel was still finding odd little things to eat. I think she keeps a stash of contraband choking hazards somewhere in her bedroom. I'll have to check under her mattress or something.
We were both sick of prying her mouth open to dig out soggy bits of paper and other treasures so decided that she was hungry and fed her. That didn't work either. She continued to find little things to stick in her mouth after she had eaten.
It was like that was her one and only goal, to roam the house and find any bit of anything that the broom and vacuum missed.
She was still busy scavenging when I started preparations for dinner last night. I could hear her singing while she crawled around the house; her music only stopped when she was putting something in her mouth so that was my cue to find her and dig whatever it was out.
"La la ma ba *pause* ba *suck* ba *suck* la," I would come and dig out a soggy ball of string and something rather unidentifiable, causing a few tears to be shed.
"Ma ma ma da ga ka *pause* mruph *suck, suck* ktp ba *gag*," I would come and make her spit out a small rock and some dust fluff. She'd cry for a minute and then would cowboy up and go on the hunt again.
We went on like that for quite some time until instead of a short pause I heard a long pause followed by a tinkling sound. I ran to the bedroom and found Rachel, sitting on the floor by the night stand with my scriptures in her lap. In them she had found a little box of pencil crayons, which she was violently shaking, raining down pencil crayons all around her.
When they were all out of the box she grabbed a few and stuck them in her mouth.
I got some paper and showed her how to color on it and then helped her make a few marks on the paper herself. She had fun but, since most of her fun came from putting the pencils in her mouth and ripping sheets of paper off the pad, I don't think we're quite ready for coloring yet. At least it distracted her from her quest for small things long enough for me to get some work done.
What are you looking at?
I think I need a different color
Hmm, let me see here...
Just about right
I'm just going to start overQ Hall Reunion
During his freshmen year at BYU Andrew lived in Deseret Towers, Q Hall, room 607 with his friend from elementary school, Ross. Nathan Dyer, who served in Andrew's mission, was also in their hall, as was Beryl. After their missions, Ross, Beryl and Andrew shared an apartment, but not for too long.
Andrew only lived there for a few months before he moved back home to save up money before we got married. Ross and Anna got married about a week after we did, so Ross wasn't in that apartment too long, either. Dyer got married back in August.
Andrew and Ross both graduate this semester and since we'll be moving to Egypt and Ross and his family will be moving to Pittsburg, we figured we should have a little get together.
So two weeks ago I started planning a party. I emailed everyone to see what day and time would work well and I thought I had it all figured out until Beryl talked with Andrew on Thursday and said that he couldn't come because he had a final scheduled. I have a sneaking suspicion that he didn't want to be the only single person at the party.
We had a good time without him, though. We had a pot-luck taco dinner. Andrew and I supplied meat, beans, toritilla shells and a few other things and our company provided taco toppings, beverages, and dessert. I think it worked out well.
Rachel had a fun time with Ross' baby. They dumped out almost all the toys and enjoyed poking each other. Rachel did most of the poking, by far. (We are really working on breaking that little habit of hers.)
Rachel poking...of course
Andrew only lived there for a few months before he moved back home to save up money before we got married. Ross and Anna got married about a week after we did, so Ross wasn't in that apartment too long, either. Dyer got married back in August.
Andrew and Ross both graduate this semester and since we'll be moving to Egypt and Ross and his family will be moving to Pittsburg, we figured we should have a little get together.
So two weeks ago I started planning a party. I emailed everyone to see what day and time would work well and I thought I had it all figured out until Beryl talked with Andrew on Thursday and said that he couldn't come because he had a final scheduled. I have a sneaking suspicion that he didn't want to be the only single person at the party.
We had a good time without him, though. We had a pot-luck taco dinner. Andrew and I supplied meat, beans, toritilla shells and a few other things and our company provided taco toppings, beverages, and dessert. I think it worked out well.
Rachel had a fun time with Ross' baby. They dumped out almost all the toys and enjoyed poking each other. Rachel did most of the poking, by far. (We are really working on breaking that little habit of hers.)
Rachel poking...of courseThe party was a little short lived, which was unfortunate, but it is finals week and Andrew and Dyer, who are in the same Italian class, have a 7 am final and a big research write-up due tomorrow, and Ross and his family had to get home to put their baby to bed. It was nice to get to see them, even just for a little while!
Friday, April 18, 2008
Reaching New Heights
Our little Rachel is quite the daredevil. She isn't afraid of anything (except the occasional cow or two) and is always teaching us new lessons. This evening she taught us that we need to find a new place to keep her "drum." Since it is a Tupperware container it might go better in the kitchen but she plays with it everyday for a number of her little games so we keep it in the living room.
Andrew was busy doing some last minute research on his computer and I was busy finishing up the blog post about our trip to the farm. Rachel was happily strewing toys all over the floor. There I was in my own little world, typing away, when Andrew yanked me out of it by exclaiming,
"Oh, my goodness!"
"What?" I asked, looking over my shoulder at him. He pointed to the baby and I turned my chair around so that I could see her, too.
"Oh, wow!" I said as I got the camera put back together as quickly as I could.
She had climbed right up onto her "drum" like she'd done it every day of her life and she was so proud of herself for doing it. She didn't stop there though.
We keep the non-baby friendly books (ie: paperbacks and library books) on the third shelf to keep them out of harm's (ie: Rachel's) way. We leave her board books on the second shelf, which she's been able to reach for a long time. I guess Rachel thought that she didn't have enough selection on her shelf and figured she'd help herself to the next shelf up.
Ironically enough, I was reading about Alain Robert yesterday. He climbs tall buildings solo (ie: without equipment) just because he can and for some reason Rachel reminded me of him this evening. His name is henceforth and forever banned from our home. (No offense, Alain, I just don't want Rachel to get any ideas).
Andrew was busy doing some last minute research on his computer and I was busy finishing up the blog post about our trip to the farm. Rachel was happily strewing toys all over the floor. There I was in my own little world, typing away, when Andrew yanked me out of it by exclaiming,
"Oh, my goodness!"
"What?" I asked, looking over my shoulder at him. He pointed to the baby and I turned my chair around so that I could see her, too.
"Oh, wow!" I said as I got the camera put back together as quickly as I could.
She had climbed right up onto her "drum" like she'd done it every day of her life and she was so proud of herself for doing it. She didn't stop there though.
Look at me, mom!We keep the non-baby friendly books (ie: paperbacks and library books) on the third shelf to keep them out of harm's (ie: Rachel's) way. We leave her board books on the second shelf, which she's been able to reach for a long time. I guess Rachel thought that she didn't have enough selection on her shelf and figured she'd help herself to the next shelf up.
Ironically enough, I was reading about Alain Robert yesterday. He climbs tall buildings solo (ie: without equipment) just because he can and for some reason Rachel reminded me of him this evening. His name is henceforth and forever banned from our home. (No offense, Alain, I just don't want Rachel to get any ideas).
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Those Scary Cows
For playgroup today we headed out to Thanksgiving Point to play on the farm. Heather has a pass and any guests that she takes get in for half price, which was really nice for everyone who came!
When we came through the barn we immediately headed towards the nearest animal: cows. And of course, since there was a little baby calf we all crowded around it. It was a rather friendly and curious calf, staying close by the fence and poking its little head through to greet all the children. Rachel usually likes animals. She squeals with delight whenever she sees a puppy or kitty and loves to touch them or have them bark at her. The cow, however, was a little too scary for her.
I tried putting her close to the fence so that she could look at the cow, and touch it (if she wanted), but she just stuck her little bum out and put her arms straight in front of her, rather defensively. She kept scuttling away from the cow, trying to get back into my arms, all the while letting off nervous giggles. She wouldn't touch the fence, she wouldn't stand up. She was so scared, petrified might be a better word choice, she was almost shaking.
She just takes after her Great Grandma Conrad, I suppose. Poor Grandma had a hard life. You see, she, too, was afraid of cows. Now, ordinarily this wouldn't cause too much of an issue, but Grandma grew up on a dairy farm so it was kind of a big deal. She heard once that you could communicate with animals, so she started talking to them while she was out doing her chores. She would look the cow in the eyes and say firmly, "You don't want to come over here." And for the most part the cows listened and left her alone. Of course, cows were never really known for being very social...or aggressive. Mostly they just sit around and chew their cud and give milk.
But I suppose everyone has to be afraid of something. And cows are really big, I'll give you that!
She was a little leery of the llama as well, but she started to warm up to things after we'd been there a while. She got used to the fact that everything there was several times her size, excluding for the pygmy goats (two little kids were born recently and they are so adorable!).
Rachel liked the sheep but she wouldn't go up to their pen until they went to see some visitors on the other side. Then she waltzed right up and grabbed onto the gate like she was the bravest girl in the world, which everyone might have believed had she not flipped out when the sheep came back.
Rachel and sheep
After we had lunch we went on a wagon ride, which I'm sure Rachel would have thoroughly enjoyed if she hadn't been sleeping the whole time. She fell asleep during lunch and napped right through the wagon ride, which was fine with me since it was well into the afternoon by this time and she hadn't taken a nap yet.
A couple of huge Belgians pulled the wagon, each one of them weighing close to a ton! In my opinion horses are much scarier than cows. Not only are they several hundred pounds heavier than a common dairy cow, they are a lot more curious about people. As a general rule, if you don't bother a cow, it won't bother you. The same thing cannot be said of horses. They are much more high maintenance than cows are, always wanting treats and to be brushed and other such things. They seek out company.
I don't know about you, but it's much scarier for me to have a 2000 pound animal sniffing me for treats than it is to have a 1200 pound animal lazing about in a field. Not that I'm really afraid of either...it's just that being afraid of a horse makes more sense to me.
Rachel, however, doesn't seem to agree with me. She thought the horses were much cooler than the cows, even though they were sticking their heads over the fence and socializing. One of these huge horses even licked one of the twins' head (I don't recall which one).
Before we headed back into the barn to learn and play some more, I took some pictures of Rachel with the tulips. Thanksgiving Point also does a little tulip festival, which we haven't gone to, and I think that this little bed of tulips was supposed to be an advertisement of sorts for that. Rachel thought they were very pretty.
When we came through the barn we immediately headed towards the nearest animal: cows. And of course, since there was a little baby calf we all crowded around it. It was a rather friendly and curious calf, staying close by the fence and poking its little head through to greet all the children. Rachel usually likes animals. She squeals with delight whenever she sees a puppy or kitty and loves to touch them or have them bark at her. The cow, however, was a little too scary for her.
I tried putting her close to the fence so that she could look at the cow, and touch it (if she wanted), but she just stuck her little bum out and put her arms straight in front of her, rather defensively. She kept scuttling away from the cow, trying to get back into my arms, all the while letting off nervous giggles. She wouldn't touch the fence, she wouldn't stand up. She was so scared, petrified might be a better word choice, she was almost shaking.
She just takes after her Great Grandma Conrad, I suppose. Poor Grandma had a hard life. You see, she, too, was afraid of cows. Now, ordinarily this wouldn't cause too much of an issue, but Grandma grew up on a dairy farm so it was kind of a big deal. She heard once that you could communicate with animals, so she started talking to them while she was out doing her chores. She would look the cow in the eyes and say firmly, "You don't want to come over here." And for the most part the cows listened and left her alone. Of course, cows were never really known for being very social...or aggressive. Mostly they just sit around and chew their cud and give milk.
Rachel "milking" a cow--you squeeze it and water comes out...But I suppose everyone has to be afraid of something. And cows are really big, I'll give you that!
She was a little leery of the llama as well, but she started to warm up to things after we'd been there a while. She got used to the fact that everything there was several times her size, excluding for the pygmy goats (two little kids were born recently and they are so adorable!).
Rachel liked the sheep but she wouldn't go up to their pen until they went to see some visitors on the other side. Then she waltzed right up and grabbed onto the gate like she was the bravest girl in the world, which everyone might have believed had she not flipped out when the sheep came back.
Rachel and sheepThe goats were much easier for her to admire because of the link-type fencing that they had attached to the rails. I think she recognized that there was no possible way for the goats to get her.
Rachel and a goat
After we had lunch we went on a wagon ride, which I'm sure Rachel would have thoroughly enjoyed if she hadn't been sleeping the whole time. She fell asleep during lunch and napped right through the wagon ride, which was fine with me since it was well into the afternoon by this time and she hadn't taken a nap yet.
Rachel and me on the wagon rideA couple of huge Belgians pulled the wagon, each one of them weighing close to a ton! In my opinion horses are much scarier than cows. Not only are they several hundred pounds heavier than a common dairy cow, they are a lot more curious about people. As a general rule, if you don't bother a cow, it won't bother you. The same thing cannot be said of horses. They are much more high maintenance than cows are, always wanting treats and to be brushed and other such things. They seek out company.
I don't know about you, but it's much scarier for me to have a 2000 pound animal sniffing me for treats than it is to have a 1200 pound animal lazing about in a field. Not that I'm really afraid of either...it's just that being afraid of a horse makes more sense to me.
Rachel, however, doesn't seem to agree with me. She thought the horses were much cooler than the cows, even though they were sticking their heads over the fence and socializing. One of these huge horses even licked one of the twins' head (I don't recall which one).
Before we headed back into the barn to learn and play some more, I took some pictures of Rachel with the tulips. Thanksgiving Point also does a little tulip festival, which we haven't gone to, and I think that this little bed of tulips was supposed to be an advertisement of sorts for that. Rachel thought they were very pretty.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Baby Fortress
After lunch I pulled all the cushions off the couch so that I could vacuum under them since we haven't done that since we got the couch (shhh! don't tell) and there were plenty of little treasures hiding under and between them.
Rachel had a great time climbing over and around them while they were piled up on the floor. When I was all finished vacuuming, Rachel and I built a fort. Mostly I built it and Rachel played in it, but that's beside the point.
We read Teeny Tiny Tingly Tales, a book of (not so) scary stories, in the dark of our fort. Rachel thought the pictures were pretty silly.
Then we played some rousing games of peek-a-boo, rub-your-head-on-the-roof, and knock-the-door-down.
Rub your head on the roof
More head rubbing
Knocking down the back door
Knocking down the front door
Rachel had a great time climbing over and around them while they were piled up on the floor. When I was all finished vacuuming, Rachel and I built a fort. Mostly I built it and Rachel played in it, but that's beside the point.
We read Teeny Tiny Tingly Tales, a book of (not so) scary stories, in the dark of our fort. Rachel thought the pictures were pretty silly.
What's this? A pair of yellow pants, with nobody inside them!
Old Dr. Wango Tango gets blown awayThen we played some rousing games of peek-a-boo, rub-your-head-on-the-roof, and knock-the-door-down.
Peek-a-Boo, I see you!
Rub your head on the roof
More head rubbingWe had to brace the supporting walls of the fort against the couch and the table because the first time Rachel knocked down the door the whole fort collapsed on top of her, which she didn't really enjoy. She found knocking down just the door pretty enjoyable, though.
Knocking down the back door
Knocking down the front doorAfter about a half hour of playing Rachel was pretty worn out (and all staticky from rubbing her head on cushions) and I was wondering if it was fair that I was having this much fun while Andrew was stuck at work all day. And then Rachel needed to go potty and, while I wrestled with Rachel to get a diaper on her after she was finished, I remembered that motherhood, as much fun as it can be, isn't all fun and games. Still, I'd rather have my current job than be away from my baby all day long!
What's this pillow doing on my roof?
I'm waiting...for the one I love...to find me...today...
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