I've been wondering a lot about parenting recently and reading lots of things. And I've come to the conclusion that what I do doesn't really matter. It probably helps that I just finished reading Freakonomics and that's one of the conclusions that they draw: it doesn't matter what you do, but who you are as a parent.
Sometimes I read things about all these activities parents do for their children. I like to play with Rachel and we do that everyday. Sometimes we do more organized activities like crafts and things, but certainly not everyday. Sometimes when I read about what some moms do and then think about how I'm not doing that I think that I might not be a good mom.
But I don't have to organize her whole day for her to discover the world. She does a fine job of that on her own. Sometimes it's nice to sit back and observe her playing and discovering the world without my interference.
Yesterday Rachel was building a block tower while I was reading my book. More specifically she was building a red tower using only red blocks. Her crown piece was a rubber duck.
"Rwwwwwed! Rwwwwwwwed! Rwwwwwed!" she yelled each time she added a block, and when she put the duck on top she screamed, "DUT!"
Today she made a mosque/house with a door to knock on where people could pray "in-ere" that had a nice big tower in front. She gave me the full tour. In case you are wondering, Rachel's prepositions include: up, down, out, and "in-there."
When we were at the Masons on Sunday she spent nearly the whole time making soup. She had some measuring cups and some sorting shapes and was making all kinds of soups: apple soup, honey soup, red soup, bread soup, and banana soup. She went around the whole evening making people try her soups.
Perhaps cutest of all, in my opinion, is that Rachel now understands the "got your nose" trick and has expanded it to a full-on face stealing game. She was sitting on my lap a few days ago and I grabbed her nose, put my thumb between my index and middle finger and declared, "I've got your nose!"
She looked at me like I had gone crazy.
"Look! Right here! It's your nose! You don't have a nose anymore because I have it right here!"
The blank stare didn't go away, so I put her nose back and decided to try that trick again later.
Then yesterday she climbed on my lap and stared intently at my face for a few minutes before grabbing my ear, tugging it gently, and then clutching her hands to her chest.
"My!" she said, "My! Mama ear! All gone!"
We've been playing that all day. From this she's learned the words "steal" and "take," which are probably vitally important in her vocabulary at this point in her life.
It doesn't matter that I don't sit down with Rachel and quiz her on colors daily, or if I don't make up little educational games for her to play, or if I don't read to her for x-amount of minutes. Sometimes we do those things and sometimes we don't and it just doesn't matter because there is no magical formula for raising a perfect child.
What does matter is that we are loving parents, that we try our best, that we create a Christ-centered home, that we encouarge education through our example, and we show Rachel how to be a good person.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Rx warnings
I need a label on my forehead that reads something like:
Warning: Moody when pregnant. Contents under pressure. Do not provoke.
It could also have some small print that reads something like:
Offer plenty of cupcakes and lengthy naptimes.
I'm actually doing fairly well this pregnancy. This is only my second large-scale irrational emotional outburst. The first was in the Khan before we were telling that we were expecting but I was still definitely experiencing pregnancy symptoms; not only did I want them to take my meat back to cook longer...I needed them to. World peace and eternal happiness depended on it, I'm sure.
It's been weeks since that original meltdown and I haven't even cried very much this pregnancy, so I'm really doing fairly well.
Andrew and I were talking about it last night after our friends, Josh and Carolee, left in a hurry. It wasn't even that big of a deal, nor is it even that great of a story. It was going on 2 am and we had already played Danger 13 and Fluxx. We were then playing a round of Killer Uno or Cutthroat Uno or whatever you want to call it. Things were going along well, but I could tell I was tired and grumpy. Not that that's unusual. As a pregnant lady I am typically tired and usually somewhat grumpy.
I was controlling things well until I ended up drawing 8 cards. And then 6 cards. And then someone went out.
I counted out all the cards worth 20 pts, which were a lot. I think I lost count at around 80 or 90. And I still had a handful of cards. And it was 2 AM. And I, frankly, didn't want to add them up. I was fine with them being added to my score for me and continuing with the game but, I'm pregnant, you see, and at that exact moment I couldn't add them.
"I'm not counting these," I warned, putting my cards down, "You do it."
"No, you have to count them," Andrew said.
"I'm. Not. Counting. Them." I said again firmly.
Unfortunately for everyone, I repeated myself a third time, scrambling my cards with Andrew's and reaffirming that I, indeed, was not going to count them.
"Well, now I can't count them," he said.
And that was the end of the game. Probably a good thing since it was 2 AM and I had lost my mind. The Schillings probably think I'm a freak now, but hopefully they'll understand later on when Carolee is expecting. Not that she is. But later she probably will be because having babies is what normal married couples try to do in our religion.
I felt pretty stupid about the whole thing, but we were talking about it and decided that I've actually been pretty emotionally stable this pregnancy, so far. I mean, I lasted through several games before I threw a fit. Andrew swore off Scrabble during pregnancies because we played once when I was pregnant with Rachel and I think I threw the board and screamed at him within the first 3 words played. He was playing words like, "Astrophysics" and I could only think of words like, "Goo-goo" and "Gaa-gaa."
I can also cook this pregnancy. Last pregnancy I would cry over dinner almost every night. You know those jokes you hear about the pregnant lady who cries because the water doesn't boil fast enough? That was me. The spaghetti sauce splattered on the stove? Enter crisis mode. Spilled some milk? There were definitely tears over that. Heaven forbid I actually burn anything.
It was probably a great blessing when my pregnancy nose kicked in and our kitchen "smelled so bad" that I couldn't even set foot in there. Andrew did all the cooking for a while because I just couldn't be in the kitchen.
I also could hardly get dressed in the morning without bursting into tears. I have yet to cry about the task of matching an outfit this pregnancy.
Andrew theorizes that the number of fits thrown during pregnancy predicts the temperament of the yet-unborn child. If his theory is correct, then this kid is going to totally rock!
Because do you know who can't get dressed in the morning without throwing a fit about something? Rachel.
Do you know who can't let me make dinner without throwing a fit about something? Rachel.
Do you know who can't let me get through a game or a blog post or brushing my teeth without throwing a fit (unless she's already in bed)? Rachel.
We could just be heading toward the terrible twos, or it could be that Rachel is an emotionally high-strung person who had me crying the whole pregnancy by sending her emotional vibes coursing through my body.
When Rachel is good, she is very good, but when she loses her temper she turns into a wild, rabid animal. It's pretty crazy!
Part of me hopes, for Rachel's sake, that this is just the terrible twos starting. Part of me hopes, for my sake, that our next child throws fits only once a month. That would be awesome!
Warning: Moody when pregnant. Contents under pressure. Do not provoke.
It could also have some small print that reads something like:
Offer plenty of cupcakes and lengthy naptimes.
I'm actually doing fairly well this pregnancy. This is only my second large-scale irrational emotional outburst. The first was in the Khan before we were telling that we were expecting but I was still definitely experiencing pregnancy symptoms; not only did I want them to take my meat back to cook longer...I needed them to. World peace and eternal happiness depended on it, I'm sure.
It's been weeks since that original meltdown and I haven't even cried very much this pregnancy, so I'm really doing fairly well.
Andrew and I were talking about it last night after our friends, Josh and Carolee, left in a hurry. It wasn't even that big of a deal, nor is it even that great of a story. It was going on 2 am and we had already played Danger 13 and Fluxx. We were then playing a round of Killer Uno or Cutthroat Uno or whatever you want to call it. Things were going along well, but I could tell I was tired and grumpy. Not that that's unusual. As a pregnant lady I am typically tired and usually somewhat grumpy.
I was controlling things well until I ended up drawing 8 cards. And then 6 cards. And then someone went out.
I counted out all the cards worth 20 pts, which were a lot. I think I lost count at around 80 or 90. And I still had a handful of cards. And it was 2 AM. And I, frankly, didn't want to add them up. I was fine with them being added to my score for me and continuing with the game but, I'm pregnant, you see, and at that exact moment I couldn't add them.
"I'm not counting these," I warned, putting my cards down, "You do it."
"No, you have to count them," Andrew said.
"I'm. Not. Counting. Them." I said again firmly.
Unfortunately for everyone, I repeated myself a third time, scrambling my cards with Andrew's and reaffirming that I, indeed, was not going to count them.
"Well, now I can't count them," he said.
And that was the end of the game. Probably a good thing since it was 2 AM and I had lost my mind. The Schillings probably think I'm a freak now, but hopefully they'll understand later on when Carolee is expecting. Not that she is. But later she probably will be because having babies is what normal married couples try to do in our religion.
I felt pretty stupid about the whole thing, but we were talking about it and decided that I've actually been pretty emotionally stable this pregnancy, so far. I mean, I lasted through several games before I threw a fit. Andrew swore off Scrabble during pregnancies because we played once when I was pregnant with Rachel and I think I threw the board and screamed at him within the first 3 words played. He was playing words like, "Astrophysics" and I could only think of words like, "Goo-goo" and "Gaa-gaa."
I can also cook this pregnancy. Last pregnancy I would cry over dinner almost every night. You know those jokes you hear about the pregnant lady who cries because the water doesn't boil fast enough? That was me. The spaghetti sauce splattered on the stove? Enter crisis mode. Spilled some milk? There were definitely tears over that. Heaven forbid I actually burn anything.
It was probably a great blessing when my pregnancy nose kicked in and our kitchen "smelled so bad" that I couldn't even set foot in there. Andrew did all the cooking for a while because I just couldn't be in the kitchen.
I also could hardly get dressed in the morning without bursting into tears. I have yet to cry about the task of matching an outfit this pregnancy.
Andrew theorizes that the number of fits thrown during pregnancy predicts the temperament of the yet-unborn child. If his theory is correct, then this kid is going to totally rock!
Because do you know who can't get dressed in the morning without throwing a fit about something? Rachel.
Do you know who can't let me make dinner without throwing a fit about something? Rachel.
Do you know who can't let me get through a game or a blog post or brushing my teeth without throwing a fit (unless she's already in bed)? Rachel.
We could just be heading toward the terrible twos, or it could be that Rachel is an emotionally high-strung person who had me crying the whole pregnancy by sending her emotional vibes coursing through my body.
When Rachel is good, she is very good, but when she loses her temper she turns into a wild, rabid animal. It's pretty crazy!
Part of me hopes, for Rachel's sake, that this is just the terrible twos starting. Part of me hopes, for my sake, that our next child throws fits only once a month. That would be awesome!
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Easter Friday Talks
Since I couldn't invite my mom to come and hear me speak, I thought I'd put my talk up here. Most of the content was pulled from Elder Wirthlin's talk from last conference and from one of President Monson's talks from this conference. Andrew thought my talk was too short but I swear it was at least 15 minutes. Besides, he made his talk last long enough to cover the rest of the time so it all worked out.
Andrew based his talk on Presiden Holland's talk, which was also beautiful. If you missed it, you can either find the transcript on the church website or watch the summary below.
We're the Heiss family and although we aren't new, this is our first time speaking in sacrament meeting so I'll take a minute to introduce our family, which, unfortunately, is rather small.
We babysat the Lewis children this past week, which added 5 children to our household and more than doubled the size of our family; and on Sunday when we were watching conference we had 2 of the Penrod children over as well. Altogether we had 8 kids running around, making watching conference a loud and trying experience. I couldn't help but think, while I tried to pay attention to the speakers, how nice it would be to actually have 8 children today.
That way when I introduced our family in sacrament meeting I would take up all my time doing that and wouldn't have to worry about preparing a talk. As it is, we're a rather small and young family. I'm sure you all know us, but I'll go ahead and give our introduction anyway.
[And then I introduced us.]
I was specifically touched by President Monson's talk in the Sunday morning session, which, remarkably enough, happened to be the very session during which we had 8 children running around wild.
He said, "It would be easy to become discouraged and cynical about the future—or even fearful of what might come—if we allowed ourselves to dwell only on that which is wrong in the world and in our lives," and urged us to "focus instead on our blessings as members of the Church"
He then quoted 2 Timothy 1:7, which reads, "God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind."
When I pondered on that scripture and on the idea of enduring through life's trials focused on our blessings, I was reminded of two things. First of all, Elder Wirthlin's talk from last conference and secondly about an experience I had recently with Rachel.
Most of my experiences recently revolve around Rachel. I still consider myself a new mother, even though Rachel will be 2 in July, and even though I love motherhood, it's a real challenge for me. Motherhood is hard and you never get a break. We're actually expecting our second baby at the end of October so I've been reflecting a lot more on motherhood and wondering if I can be a mother to two children. I find being a mother to Rachel overwhelming sometimes. Often. I don't know how I'll ever get used to taking care of two children.
I found that Elder Wirthlin's talk was along the same lines that President Monson spoke about. He also addressed the topic of overcoming adversity. He says, "If we approach adversities wisely, our hardest times can be times of greatest growth, which in turn can lead toward times of greatest happiness."
"How can we love days that are filled with sorrow?" he asks, "We can’t—at least not in the moment. I don’t think my mother was suggesting that we suppress discouragement or deny the reality of pain. I don’t think [my mother] was suggesting that we smother unpleasant truths beneath a cloak of pretended happiness. But I do believe that the way we react to adversity can be a major factor in how happy and successful we can be in life."
He was referring to how his mother would say, "Come what may, and love it."
Recently Rachel and I went to Greece for a week, without Andrew. I thought it was going to be a really fun trip and I was going to have Jaehee along to help. Things were going to be fine. However, this was the longest amount of time that we hav eever been apart as a couple and the first time, really, that I'd ever been alone with Rachel for more than 1 night.
It was our first day in Greece and we were already rather miserable. Rachel had, of course, stayed up all night long on the plane. Anyone who knows anything about Rachel knows that she takes any opportunity to stay awake and uses it to the fullest. The first thing we did upon arriving in Greece was find our hotel where we promptly settled in for a 2.5 hour nap, which isn't nearly enough sleep for a toddler (even for Rachel) or for a pregnant mother. We didn't want to waste a whole day, though, so we went out anyway, even though we were rather grumpy.
We were walking and I was pushing Rachel in the stroller when she lost it. She started screaming and wouldn't stop no matter what I tried. I was pointing out flowers and birds to distract her. I offered her snacks. I offered her water. I tried getting her out of the stroller. Nothing was working and I was starting to go a little crazy myself.
We stopped in a little park and Rachel continued to scream and scream and scream.
I wasn't having very happy thoughts. I was embarrassed and I was frustrated and I began to wonder if it wasn't my parenting that was making Rachel misbehave so terribly. I could recall nothing but perfect behavior from Rachel when we went on vacations with Andrew.
Then for some reason, I felt prompted to take a picture of Rachel screaming in her stroller. So I did, and when I did, several memories flooded back to me of Andrew and I taking pictures of Rachel doing the exact same thing on previous exursions that we took her on.
I instantly felt better. Her bad behavior didn't stop and truthfully our day didn't get much better, but I realized that no matter how miserable I was right then, I would eventually only have good memories of the trip.
I learned a lot being with Rachel for that long alone. I learned that I can do hard things. I learned more about her. I realized how much I appreciate and depend on Andrew and how often I take him forgranted. And, perhaps most importantly, I learned that happiness far outweighs unhappiness.
"The dial on the wheel of sorrow eventually points to each of us," said Elder Wirthlin, "At one time or another, everyone must experience sorrow. No one is exempt."
But, as it says in D&C 121:7-8, "...Peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes.”
When I heard President Monson relate the story of the woman in Germany who had to burry her children one by one using a tablespoon to dig their graves and, when her last child died, having to dig the grave with her bare hands, I thought of how trivial many of my problems seem.
I was dealing with a whiney child, but at least I still had her and didn't have to dig a shallow, unmarked grave somewhere in the wilderness of Greece.
This dear sister had remarkable faith and used that to get through her trials. She said, when prompted to "get down on her knees and pray" that she had "nothing left but faith in Jesus Christ."
"I feel," she prayed to Heavenly Father, "Amidst the desolation of my soul, an overwhelming gratitude for the atoning sacrifice of Thy Son, Jesus Christ."
I don't think my soul has ever been desolate. I have my family, I have my home, I have countless blessings, and I have my faith. That doesn't mean, however, that my life is easy or perfect or challenge-free. In fact, it is far from that.
President Monson said, "None of us makes it through this life without problems and challenges—and sometimes tragedies and misfortunes. After all, in large part we are here to learn and grow from such events in our lives. We know that there are times when we will suffer, when we will grieve, and when we will be saddened. However, we are told [in 2 Nephi 2:25], 'Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.'"
President Monson shows us the answer to finding joy, again, in the scriptures. D&C 86:6 reads, "Wherefore, be of good cheer, and do not fear, for I the Lord am with you, and will stand by you."
The key to living a life of "good cheer," then, is having faith in the Lord. The Lord says in John 16:33, "In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world."
In this world we have tribulation, trials, sorrow, sin, and sickness. No matter what hardships we face, the Lord has overcome it already, and by having faith in him and his ability to succor us according to our needs, we will also overcome our trials.
One of my favorite scriptures is found in Romans 8:28, "We know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose," and in verse 27 it says, "He maketh intercession for the Saints according to the will of God."
Jesus Christ is our Savior. He suffered for our sins and our sorrow in the Garden of Gethsemane and He is always there to help us through our trials.
As President Monson says, "This attitude is what will pull us through whatever comes our way. It will not remove our troubles from us but rather will enable us to face our challenges, to meet them head on, and to emerge victorious."
2 Nephi 9:18 read, "Behold, the righteous, the saints of the Holy One of Israel, they who have believed in [Him], they who have endured the crosses of the world, . . . they shall inherit the kingdom of God, . . . and their joy shall be full forever."
What wonderful promises: to emerge victorious, to have joy forever!
Just as the woman from Germany found happiness in knowing "that God lived, that Jesus is the Christ, and that He died and was resurrected so that we might live again," so, too, can we find the same joy through faith in Christ.
In closing I want to share President Monson's testimony that "our promised blessings are beyond measure. Though the storm clouds may gather, though the rains may pour down upon us, our knowledge of the gospel and our love of our Heavenly Father and of our Savior will comfort and sustain us and bring joy to our hearts as we walk uprightly and keep the commandments. There will be nothing in this world that can defeat us."
And as Elder Wirthlin urged, may we all learn to say with faith, "Come what may, and love it!"
I know that Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world and that he atoned for our sins and conquered death so that we can all return to live with our Heavenly Father. I know that the gospel was restored to the prophet Joseph Smith and that he translated the Book of Mormon. I believe the Book of Mormon to be the word of God. I know we have a prophet today, President Monson, and that he recieves revelation from Heavenly Father. I am so happy to be sealed to Andrew in the temple for all eternity. I'm so grateful for the gospel, and especially that we are able to meet together as Saints in Cairo, Egypt! In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
Andrew based his talk on Presiden Holland's talk, which was also beautiful. If you missed it, you can either find the transcript on the church website or watch the summary below.
**************************
We're the Heiss family and although we aren't new, this is our first time speaking in sacrament meeting so I'll take a minute to introduce our family, which, unfortunately, is rather small.
We babysat the Lewis children this past week, which added 5 children to our household and more than doubled the size of our family; and on Sunday when we were watching conference we had 2 of the Penrod children over as well. Altogether we had 8 kids running around, making watching conference a loud and trying experience. I couldn't help but think, while I tried to pay attention to the speakers, how nice it would be to actually have 8 children today.
That way when I introduced our family in sacrament meeting I would take up all my time doing that and wouldn't have to worry about preparing a talk. As it is, we're a rather small and young family. I'm sure you all know us, but I'll go ahead and give our introduction anyway.
[And then I introduced us.]
I was specifically touched by President Monson's talk in the Sunday morning session, which, remarkably enough, happened to be the very session during which we had 8 children running around wild.
He said, "It would be easy to become discouraged and cynical about the future—or even fearful of what might come—if we allowed ourselves to dwell only on that which is wrong in the world and in our lives," and urged us to "focus instead on our blessings as members of the Church"
He then quoted 2 Timothy 1:7, which reads, "God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind."
When I pondered on that scripture and on the idea of enduring through life's trials focused on our blessings, I was reminded of two things. First of all, Elder Wirthlin's talk from last conference and secondly about an experience I had recently with Rachel.
Most of my experiences recently revolve around Rachel. I still consider myself a new mother, even though Rachel will be 2 in July, and even though I love motherhood, it's a real challenge for me. Motherhood is hard and you never get a break. We're actually expecting our second baby at the end of October so I've been reflecting a lot more on motherhood and wondering if I can be a mother to two children. I find being a mother to Rachel overwhelming sometimes. Often. I don't know how I'll ever get used to taking care of two children.
I found that Elder Wirthlin's talk was along the same lines that President Monson spoke about. He also addressed the topic of overcoming adversity. He says, "If we approach adversities wisely, our hardest times can be times of greatest growth, which in turn can lead toward times of greatest happiness."
"How can we love days that are filled with sorrow?" he asks, "We can’t—at least not in the moment. I don’t think my mother was suggesting that we suppress discouragement or deny the reality of pain. I don’t think [my mother] was suggesting that we smother unpleasant truths beneath a cloak of pretended happiness. But I do believe that the way we react to adversity can be a major factor in how happy and successful we can be in life."
He was referring to how his mother would say, "Come what may, and love it."
Recently Rachel and I went to Greece for a week, without Andrew. I thought it was going to be a really fun trip and I was going to have Jaehee along to help. Things were going to be fine. However, this was the longest amount of time that we hav eever been apart as a couple and the first time, really, that I'd ever been alone with Rachel for more than 1 night.
It was our first day in Greece and we were already rather miserable. Rachel had, of course, stayed up all night long on the plane. Anyone who knows anything about Rachel knows that she takes any opportunity to stay awake and uses it to the fullest. The first thing we did upon arriving in Greece was find our hotel where we promptly settled in for a 2.5 hour nap, which isn't nearly enough sleep for a toddler (even for Rachel) or for a pregnant mother. We didn't want to waste a whole day, though, so we went out anyway, even though we were rather grumpy.
We were walking and I was pushing Rachel in the stroller when she lost it. She started screaming and wouldn't stop no matter what I tried. I was pointing out flowers and birds to distract her. I offered her snacks. I offered her water. I tried getting her out of the stroller. Nothing was working and I was starting to go a little crazy myself.
We stopped in a little park and Rachel continued to scream and scream and scream.
I wasn't having very happy thoughts. I was embarrassed and I was frustrated and I began to wonder if it wasn't my parenting that was making Rachel misbehave so terribly. I could recall nothing but perfect behavior from Rachel when we went on vacations with Andrew.
Then for some reason, I felt prompted to take a picture of Rachel screaming in her stroller. So I did, and when I did, several memories flooded back to me of Andrew and I taking pictures of Rachel doing the exact same thing on previous exursions that we took her on.
I instantly felt better. Her bad behavior didn't stop and truthfully our day didn't get much better, but I realized that no matter how miserable I was right then, I would eventually only have good memories of the trip.
I learned a lot being with Rachel for that long alone. I learned that I can do hard things. I learned more about her. I realized how much I appreciate and depend on Andrew and how often I take him forgranted. And, perhaps most importantly, I learned that happiness far outweighs unhappiness.
"The dial on the wheel of sorrow eventually points to each of us," said Elder Wirthlin, "At one time or another, everyone must experience sorrow. No one is exempt."
But, as it says in D&C 121:7-8, "...Peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes.”
When I heard President Monson relate the story of the woman in Germany who had to burry her children one by one using a tablespoon to dig their graves and, when her last child died, having to dig the grave with her bare hands, I thought of how trivial many of my problems seem.
I was dealing with a whiney child, but at least I still had her and didn't have to dig a shallow, unmarked grave somewhere in the wilderness of Greece.
This dear sister had remarkable faith and used that to get through her trials. She said, when prompted to "get down on her knees and pray" that she had "nothing left but faith in Jesus Christ."
"I feel," she prayed to Heavenly Father, "Amidst the desolation of my soul, an overwhelming gratitude for the atoning sacrifice of Thy Son, Jesus Christ."
I don't think my soul has ever been desolate. I have my family, I have my home, I have countless blessings, and I have my faith. That doesn't mean, however, that my life is easy or perfect or challenge-free. In fact, it is far from that.
President Monson said, "None of us makes it through this life without problems and challenges—and sometimes tragedies and misfortunes. After all, in large part we are here to learn and grow from such events in our lives. We know that there are times when we will suffer, when we will grieve, and when we will be saddened. However, we are told [in 2 Nephi 2:25], 'Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.'"
President Monson shows us the answer to finding joy, again, in the scriptures. D&C 86:6 reads, "Wherefore, be of good cheer, and do not fear, for I the Lord am with you, and will stand by you."
The key to living a life of "good cheer," then, is having faith in the Lord. The Lord says in John 16:33, "In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world."
In this world we have tribulation, trials, sorrow, sin, and sickness. No matter what hardships we face, the Lord has overcome it already, and by having faith in him and his ability to succor us according to our needs, we will also overcome our trials.
One of my favorite scriptures is found in Romans 8:28, "We know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose," and in verse 27 it says, "He maketh intercession for the Saints according to the will of God."
Jesus Christ is our Savior. He suffered for our sins and our sorrow in the Garden of Gethsemane and He is always there to help us through our trials.
As President Monson says, "This attitude is what will pull us through whatever comes our way. It will not remove our troubles from us but rather will enable us to face our challenges, to meet them head on, and to emerge victorious."
2 Nephi 9:18 read, "Behold, the righteous, the saints of the Holy One of Israel, they who have believed in [Him], they who have endured the crosses of the world, . . . they shall inherit the kingdom of God, . . . and their joy shall be full forever."
What wonderful promises: to emerge victorious, to have joy forever!
Just as the woman from Germany found happiness in knowing "that God lived, that Jesus is the Christ, and that He died and was resurrected so that we might live again," so, too, can we find the same joy through faith in Christ.
In closing I want to share President Monson's testimony that "our promised blessings are beyond measure. Though the storm clouds may gather, though the rains may pour down upon us, our knowledge of the gospel and our love of our Heavenly Father and of our Savior will comfort and sustain us and bring joy to our hearts as we walk uprightly and keep the commandments. There will be nothing in this world that can defeat us."
And as Elder Wirthlin urged, may we all learn to say with faith, "Come what may, and love it!"
I know that Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world and that he atoned for our sins and conquered death so that we can all return to live with our Heavenly Father. I know that the gospel was restored to the prophet Joseph Smith and that he translated the Book of Mormon. I believe the Book of Mormon to be the word of God. I know we have a prophet today, President Monson, and that he recieves revelation from Heavenly Father. I am so happy to be sealed to Andrew in the temple for all eternity. I'm so grateful for the gospel, and especially that we are able to meet together as Saints in Cairo, Egypt! In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
Branch Easter Party
This evening was our branch Easter party. We made some brownies for dessert from a mix that Lydia gave us. It was my first time making brownies. Ever. And no, I didn’t eat any.
We asked Rachel if she wanted to help decorate it, which she did. Andrew moved the cake down within her reach and the first thing she did was stick all five of her fingers in it at once. I think she was planning on grabbing a fistful, but we stopped her before she could fully clench her hand together.
She must have heard “Do you want to help decorate it?”
And she was quite upset when she was stopped from having it. In the end, though, she learned that dumping sprinkles on cakes can be fun. Perhaps not as much fun as eating them, but still fun. Our brownies ended up looking like Easter had exploded on them.
We got to the party a little early and Rachel clung to me the whole time. She wouldn’t get off my lap until Finn arrived. Then she hopped right off, ran across the yard, and gave him a huge hug!
Soon after that we got prepped for the Easter egg hunt. Some of the youth had hidden some 70 plastic eggs around the backyard of the meeting house. Eleven children showed up for the hunt so they were each allowed to find 6 eggs. After they found their 6 eggs they could stop and eat their candy or they could help the younger children (ie: Rachel, Finn, and Loei) find the rest of their share.
Rachel actually did fairly well. She found four eggs all by herself and put them in her little Easter sack that the Bestor girls had made up for each of the kids. Those four eggs all happened to be laying on the ground; I was impressed that she didn’t stop after finding one egg, though.
She actually knew exactly where the eggs were that she wanted to find because she had found them when she was hunting around the bushes before everyone got there.
“ED!” she yelled, pointing to a little yellow egg with a stick she had found.
We made her leave it there, but explained to her (for about the millionth time) that when she was allowed to pick up the eggs she should go get that one and then find some others.
She had a good time but it took her so long to find those four, laying in painfully obvious sight, that there were only hard eggs left when it was time for her to find her last two. I helped her find one on top of a lamppost and Rebekah helped her find her 6th egg. I have no idea where they found it.
Before we found those two, Rachel tried robbing Sarah’s basket. Sarah was not too happy about that but her dad thought it was hilarious.
I’m so glad that the Houses have moved into the branch. All their kids adore Rachel and she loves spending time running around with them. Plus, they’re keeping our primary alive.
Rachel had a great time running around with all the big kids. It’s nice to have so many people around that love her so much! It’s almost like she has little aunts and uncles around. They all take such good care of her!
Even with all the attention she was getting from the big kids, Rachel didn’t forget that she was friends with the little kids, too. She spent a lot of time playing with both Jacquie and Finn.
In the end we all said goodbye to the Penrods. They leave in the wee hours of the morning tomorrow. The Schillings are also leaving, but not for a few days still so we didn’t say goodbye yet. I hate saying goodbye.
It was a fun evening. We gorged ourselves on lasagna and salad and had a lot of fun visiting with each other while doing so. The Cairo branch is definitely really special. It’s my family away from family.
Thank You, Penrods!
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, my friend Lydia Penrod was getting ready to move back to the States. Although I found myself deeply saddened by the turn of events, wishing that the Penrods could stick around for another year, wishing Lydia and I could take another belly dancing class together, wishing for another year of having Jacquie at playgroup and in nursery, wishing for another wonderful New Year’s party, and wishing for several other things, it was not to be. The Penrods date of departure loomed closer and closer.
As unhappy as I find most of myself, there is one facet of my being that is rather ecstatic about saying farewell to the Penrods. It’s the hoarding side of myself. The kind of selfish side that wants a year’s supply of everything. My food storage has never been happier, at least, not in Egypt. I think the Penrods dropped off around eight boxes of food.
Lydia even tucked in a little package of Easter treats for Rachel in this last shipment of stuff. She’s so thoughtful. And, she probably doesn’t know it, but she’s dropped off at least 3 or 4 meals for after the new baby is born: Progressive Soup, Progressive Soup, Progressive Soup, and…Progressive Soup. So easy to prepare you don’t even have to add water! I’m sure Andrew will be able to open up a can of soup and heat it up on the stove or in the microwave for dinner while we’re in the throes of post-partumdom. I can handle opening a can of soup post-partum so I sure hope he’ll be able to.
Anyway, here’s a big THANK YOU to the Penrods! Good luck in Idaho/Iraq! We’ll miss you guys so much, but our cupboards will forever remind us of you!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Flashback Friday: Easters past
We just had a yummy Easter dinner. My friend Lydia is moving back to the States and she gave us a few boxes full of foodstuff, including a complete Thanksgiving dinner. Cranberry sauce, stuffing, instant mashed potatoes, gravy. Even little pumpkin pie thingies. I was telling Sara about that, and how everything expires this May so we were planning a random little Thanksgiving dinner sometime in May. And then Sara said two words: Easter dinner. Oh, yeah.
So we broke out Lydia's food storage this evening and made a scrumptious Easter/Thanksgiving dinner. Mostly Andrew did it because Rachel was in a cuddly mood and it's hard to get anything done when I have to hold her. He did a great job.
Also today we made cute little Easter nests as part of our primary lesson. Phyllis made no-bake cookies and shaped them into nests. I made sugar cookies in the shape of eggs and chicks. Michele dyed coconut green for grass and brought some jelly beans with her. And then we had the kids assemble and eat their Easter nests. They really enjoyed it! Our lesson before our activity was similar to this one. Phyllis filled eggs with items relating to part of the Easter story and the kids guessed about the reason she chose that item and then we read a scripture about it. It was really fun.
I've been thinking about Easter all day and have come up with a few Easter memories.
My earliest Easter memory is one of two stories. I'm not really sure which one happened first...
Once when we were living in Burnaby, before I started school, my sisters woke me up on Easter morning. I was very excited to go and find my basket until they told me that I had slept right through Easter and then I was in tears. I was kind of a sensitive child. To make it better they helped me find my Easter basket, which was hidden in a little side table with doors (that my parents still have) among some records (like vinyl ones that you listen to). All three of the girls (me and my two older sisters) got Barbie dolls in our Easter baskets, not grown up dolls, but children dolls. My sisters played Barbies with me to help me feel better (because I still hadn't recovered from the shock of thinking I had slept through Easter even after finding my basket).
I have no recollection of receiving any candy.
Also when we were living in British Columbia, and I think when we were still living in Burnaby, we went to my Aunt Tami's house in Bellevue, Washington. I always liked going down to the Seattle area because we usually got to go to visit the temple grounds for a little bit, and I liked that. Anyway, we had gone down to her house sometime around Easter, perhaps even for Easter dinner, and I was a stress-case yet again.
My sisters had told me that the Easter Bunny might not come because we weren't going to be at our house on Easter, ergo he might not be able to find us. Luckily the Easter Bunny did find us and he left for me that year a little brown stuffed bunny. It was so small it fit in my hand. It had a pink nose and a yellow ribbon. I still have the bunny, although the ribbon has long since gone missing.
Again, I have no recollection of recieving any candy. Either I didn't care about candy or my siblings didn't want me to get hyper and confiscated it all. I'm not sure in what order those stories happened or if the details are even all correct. I was under the age of four both times, so I think I deserve a break.
Another one of my favorite Easters was when my little sister Josie was born. She was born on April 7, 1994--just a few days after Easter. She was a beautiful Easter gift! I'd been waiting for a little sister for so long!
Sometimes we'd do Easter-themed birthday parties for her. That's what you get when you're born close to a holiday!
My memories of my later childhood Easters all kind of blend together. I remember having to wait out in the van after church while Mom and Dad went inside to "check" if the Easter Bunny had come. He usually came while we were at church.
I remember dying eggs every year and always having an Easter egg hunt of sorts.
Once when we were having an Easter egg hunt, my brother David hid an egg in a hole in the wall at the top of the stairs (in our PoCo house) that he had either punched in or kicked in or rammed in with a hockey stick some weeks earlier. I don't remember how the hole got there, but I remember that he hid an egg by balancing it it in the hole.
Other popular spots were the central-vac outlets, the mantel, the bookshelf, on top of the curtain rods. We usually had to have several rounds of egg hunts so that we could all take turns hiding and finding the eggs. We weren't allowed to eat any candy from the egg hunt until everyone had taken a turn.
Of course Easter would be followed by days and days of egg salad sandwiches.
When we lived in Alberta we'd sometime spend the Easter weekend at my Grandma and Grandpa Conrad's house. I remember one time that my grandma was boiling water to make the eggs and it was taking forever so she sent us all to the park to play. She said it would take 12 minutes to make the eggs, but I have a feeling they let us play at the park for a lot longer than that because I remember wondering for a long time when they were going to come and get us to dye the eggs.
Later, my grandma brought out some cotton balls, glue, construction paper, egg cartons, and foam packing pieces. I created a whole carton full of little cotton ball/foam animals: chicks and lambs and rabbits. We left it there when we went home.
In subsequent Easters we'd see little cotton ball creations decorating grandma's house during Easter.
My mom recently went through a box of my grandma's stuff. Inside was a little paper lunch sac with "Nancy" written on the outside. It was full of my cotton ball creatures. My grandma kept everything!
I believe that when we lived in High River was when we started the tradition of making Easter Story Cookies. They're mostly just merengue cookies, which no one in my family really likes, but it's a fun activity and we could handle eating merengue cookies once a year. They only make one batch so it's not like we were eating them all day. We just would bite into them to see that they were hollow. I believe my mom's friend Kathy Loos sent her the recipe in an email or something.
When I was 12 I gave a talk in sacrament meeting about Easter. That was the first time I really stopped to study the Easter story. I still have my talk, though not with me right now. It would be interesting to go back and read it sometime.
Also, when we lived in High River, we went down to Utah for an Easter vacation once. In Alberta we get a long vacation around Easter because there are so many Catholics there. I believe we went down for the blessing of one of my nephews--either Matthew or Andrew. I can't remember which one, although I'm thinking it may have been Andrew since we had been in Utah for Matthew's birth around Christmas. I don't see why we'd then drive back down for his blessing. Andrew's birthday is March 1st, so it's very possible that it was his blessing.
Or maybe I'm combining two memories. I don't know. (Okay, for sure I'm combining more than one memory because by the time we went down to see Andrew I think Grandma and Grandpa were already in their new house...hmmmm...)
My Easter memory in Utah, though, is from when my grandma and grandpa Layton were still living in the basement of their old house that they had sold to Uncle Cory. We were all staying on blow-up mattresses around the pool table and we played several rounds of darts because my grandpa had gotten a new dart board recently. I had forgotten my pyjamas and slept in one of my grandpa's t-shirts.
For Easter we each got a big purple cup with bunnies on it (those cups are still in my mom's cupboard although the bunnies have mostly rubbed off by now) and they were filled with jelly belly beans. I love jelly belly beans. (I wish that I had some right now).
That's my first candy memory, really. I mean, we usually got a chocolate bunny (I would usually get a white chocolate bunny), which was fine, but really, if I could just have a big cupful of jelly belly beans every Easter, I'd be happy.
Another big Easter for me was the Easter I spent in Russia. We had taken a trip through the Baltics right before Easter and spent Palm Sunday in...Latvia...I think. If I had my journal with me I could check the details.
Anyway, we visited an orthodox church, which was really quite neat. Instead of using palms, people were waving pussy willows around. And a priest was going around flinging holy (?) water on everyone. We really had no idea what was going on, although it was neat to actually celebrate Palm Sunday.
We were back in Russia the following week, which meant that we still got to celebrate Lent. In Russia they eat a whole lot of pancakes during Lent, which is great because I love Russian pancakes. We had an Easter party at the church on the Saturday before Easter and even ate kulich, which was good. After that we were able to attend the midnight mass at a local hram. We went with all of the missionaries in the district we were in, not that we were missionaries, but they had permission to go and were taking an investegator, so trekked from the church (where we had just had an Easter party) to the nearest Russian Orthodox hram for the festivities there.
It was very helpful to have an investegator with us because he was able to tell us what was going on, what we were supposed to do with the candles, what the girls in white dresses circling around the altar represented, and other traditions. We felt a little bad that we had already eaten kulich that evening since everyone else at the hram had apparently been fasting all day and at midnight people started breaking out kulich and other goodies that you were supposed to wait for Lent to be over to eat. Oops.
My host family also had some kulich for me on Sunday morning and showed me the eggs they had dyed with Alosha while I was at the branch Easter party. They dyed their eggs red with onion skins. It was a very interesting Easter.
Our first Easter as a married couple was lowkey. We had, truthfully, completely forgotten about getting anything for Easter, but it worked out alright in the end because Andrew's parents invited us over for Easter dinner and Karen had some nice Easter baskets made up for us, something she's continued to contribute to in subsequent years.
In 2007, Easter was on Josie's birthday. I was pregnant with Rachel and we weren't really planning on doing much. Josie is the youngest child, though, and no one wanted to dye Easter eggs with her at home so she and my mom came over to our apartment and hung out and we dyed Easter eggs. It was a lot of fun!
Last year was Rachel's first Easter. She went to an Easter egg hunt at her friend Maggie's house and we had the first-ever Heiss Family Easter Egg Smack Down, a tradition we intend to carry on this year.
This year our Easter celebrations have only just begun. Andrew starts spring break on Sunday, which means he doesn't have to go to school for a whole week or something like that, which is awesome. If we had eggs, we probably would have dyed them already so we could do our Easter Egg Smackdown, but we don't have eggs. I used the last one yesterday when Rachel and I made all those sugar cookies for primary. We'll have to go get some tomorrow.
So we broke out Lydia's food storage this evening and made a scrumptious Easter/Thanksgiving dinner. Mostly Andrew did it because Rachel was in a cuddly mood and it's hard to get anything done when I have to hold her. He did a great job.
Also today we made cute little Easter nests as part of our primary lesson. Phyllis made no-bake cookies and shaped them into nests. I made sugar cookies in the shape of eggs and chicks. Michele dyed coconut green for grass and brought some jelly beans with her. And then we had the kids assemble and eat their Easter nests. They really enjoyed it! Our lesson before our activity was similar to this one. Phyllis filled eggs with items relating to part of the Easter story and the kids guessed about the reason she chose that item and then we read a scripture about it. It was really fun.
I've been thinking about Easter all day and have come up with a few Easter memories.
My earliest Easter memory is one of two stories. I'm not really sure which one happened first...
Once when we were living in Burnaby, before I started school, my sisters woke me up on Easter morning. I was very excited to go and find my basket until they told me that I had slept right through Easter and then I was in tears. I was kind of a sensitive child. To make it better they helped me find my Easter basket, which was hidden in a little side table with doors (that my parents still have) among some records (like vinyl ones that you listen to). All three of the girls (me and my two older sisters) got Barbie dolls in our Easter baskets, not grown up dolls, but children dolls. My sisters played Barbies with me to help me feel better (because I still hadn't recovered from the shock of thinking I had slept through Easter even after finding my basket).
I have no recollection of receiving any candy.
Also when we were living in British Columbia, and I think when we were still living in Burnaby, we went to my Aunt Tami's house in Bellevue, Washington. I always liked going down to the Seattle area because we usually got to go to visit the temple grounds for a little bit, and I liked that. Anyway, we had gone down to her house sometime around Easter, perhaps even for Easter dinner, and I was a stress-case yet again.
My sisters had told me that the Easter Bunny might not come because we weren't going to be at our house on Easter, ergo he might not be able to find us. Luckily the Easter Bunny did find us and he left for me that year a little brown stuffed bunny. It was so small it fit in my hand. It had a pink nose and a yellow ribbon. I still have the bunny, although the ribbon has long since gone missing.
Rachel playing with my little brown bunnyAgain, I have no recollection of recieving any candy. Either I didn't care about candy or my siblings didn't want me to get hyper and confiscated it all. I'm not sure in what order those stories happened or if the details are even all correct. I was under the age of four both times, so I think I deserve a break.
Another one of my favorite Easters was when my little sister Josie was born. She was born on April 7, 1994--just a few days after Easter. She was a beautiful Easter gift! I'd been waiting for a little sister for so long!
Me with our nextdoor neighbours (my best friends) and JosieSometimes we'd do Easter-themed birthday parties for her. That's what you get when you're born close to a holiday!
That's me leading the Bunny Hop at Josie's 6th birthday partyMy memories of my later childhood Easters all kind of blend together. I remember having to wait out in the van after church while Mom and Dad went inside to "check" if the Easter Bunny had come. He usually came while we were at church.
I remember dying eggs every year and always having an Easter egg hunt of sorts.
Once when we were having an Easter egg hunt, my brother David hid an egg in a hole in the wall at the top of the stairs (in our PoCo house) that he had either punched in or kicked in or rammed in with a hockey stick some weeks earlier. I don't remember how the hole got there, but I remember that he hid an egg by balancing it it in the hole.
Other popular spots were the central-vac outlets, the mantel, the bookshelf, on top of the curtain rods. We usually had to have several rounds of egg hunts so that we could all take turns hiding and finding the eggs. We weren't allowed to eat any candy from the egg hunt until everyone had taken a turn.
Of course Easter would be followed by days and days of egg salad sandwiches.
When we lived in Alberta we'd sometime spend the Easter weekend at my Grandma and Grandpa Conrad's house. I remember one time that my grandma was boiling water to make the eggs and it was taking forever so she sent us all to the park to play. She said it would take 12 minutes to make the eggs, but I have a feeling they let us play at the park for a lot longer than that because I remember wondering for a long time when they were going to come and get us to dye the eggs.
Later, my grandma brought out some cotton balls, glue, construction paper, egg cartons, and foam packing pieces. I created a whole carton full of little cotton ball/foam animals: chicks and lambs and rabbits. We left it there when we went home.
In subsequent Easters we'd see little cotton ball creations decorating grandma's house during Easter.
Not from Easter, but it's a picture with my family and grandparentsMy mom recently went through a box of my grandma's stuff. Inside was a little paper lunch sac with "Nancy" written on the outside. It was full of my cotton ball creatures. My grandma kept everything!
I believe that when we lived in High River was when we started the tradition of making Easter Story Cookies. They're mostly just merengue cookies, which no one in my family really likes, but it's a fun activity and we could handle eating merengue cookies once a year. They only make one batch so it's not like we were eating them all day. We just would bite into them to see that they were hollow. I believe my mom's friend Kathy Loos sent her the recipe in an email or something.
When I was 12 I gave a talk in sacrament meeting about Easter. That was the first time I really stopped to study the Easter story. I still have my talk, though not with me right now. It would be interesting to go back and read it sometime.
Also, when we lived in High River, we went down to Utah for an Easter vacation once. In Alberta we get a long vacation around Easter because there are so many Catholics there. I believe we went down for the blessing of one of my nephews--either Matthew or Andrew. I can't remember which one, although I'm thinking it may have been Andrew since we had been in Utah for Matthew's birth around Christmas. I don't see why we'd then drive back down for his blessing. Andrew's birthday is March 1st, so it's very possible that it was his blessing.
Or maybe I'm combining two memories. I don't know. (Okay, for sure I'm combining more than one memory because by the time we went down to see Andrew I think Grandma and Grandpa were already in their new house...hmmmm...)
My Easter memory in Utah, though, is from when my grandma and grandpa Layton were still living in the basement of their old house that they had sold to Uncle Cory. We were all staying on blow-up mattresses around the pool table and we played several rounds of darts because my grandpa had gotten a new dart board recently. I had forgotten my pyjamas and slept in one of my grandpa's t-shirts.
For Easter we each got a big purple cup with bunnies on it (those cups are still in my mom's cupboard although the bunnies have mostly rubbed off by now) and they were filled with jelly belly beans. I love jelly belly beans. (I wish that I had some right now).
That's my first candy memory, really. I mean, we usually got a chocolate bunny (I would usually get a white chocolate bunny), which was fine, but really, if I could just have a big cupful of jelly belly beans every Easter, I'd be happy.
Another big Easter for me was the Easter I spent in Russia. We had taken a trip through the Baltics right before Easter and spent Palm Sunday in...Latvia...I think. If I had my journal with me I could check the details.
A picture from our Baltics trip--probably in Sweden, not LatviaAnyway, we visited an orthodox church, which was really quite neat. Instead of using palms, people were waving pussy willows around. And a priest was going around flinging holy (?) water on everyone. We really had no idea what was going on, although it was neat to actually celebrate Palm Sunday.
We were back in Russia the following week, which meant that we still got to celebrate Lent. In Russia they eat a whole lot of pancakes during Lent, which is great because I love Russian pancakes. We had an Easter party at the church on the Saturday before Easter and even ate kulich, which was good. After that we were able to attend the midnight mass at a local hram. We went with all of the missionaries in the district we were in, not that we were missionaries, but they had permission to go and were taking an investegator, so trekked from the church (where we had just had an Easter party) to the nearest Russian Orthodox hram for the festivities there.
It was very helpful to have an investegator with us because he was able to tell us what was going on, what we were supposed to do with the candles, what the girls in white dresses circling around the altar represented, and other traditions. We felt a little bad that we had already eaten kulich that evening since everyone else at the hram had apparently been fasting all day and at midnight people started breaking out kulich and other goodies that you were supposed to wait for Lent to be over to eat. Oops.
My host family also had some kulich for me on Sunday morning and showed me the eggs they had dyed with Alosha while I was at the branch Easter party. They dyed their eggs red with onion skins. It was a very interesting Easter.
Our first Easter as a married couple was lowkey. We had, truthfully, completely forgotten about getting anything for Easter, but it worked out alright in the end because Andrew's parents invited us over for Easter dinner and Karen had some nice Easter baskets made up for us, something she's continued to contribute to in subsequent years.
In 2007, Easter was on Josie's birthday. I was pregnant with Rachel and we weren't really planning on doing much. Josie is the youngest child, though, and no one wanted to dye Easter eggs with her at home so she and my mom came over to our apartment and hung out and we dyed Easter eggs. It was a lot of fun!
Josie dying an eggLast year was Rachel's first Easter. She went to an Easter egg hunt at her friend Maggie's house and we had the first-ever Heiss Family Easter Egg Smack Down, a tradition we intend to carry on this year.
Rachel showing off the eggs she found at said party
The winner of the Easter Egg Smackdown
Rachel with GrandmaThis year our Easter celebrations have only just begun. Andrew starts spring break on Sunday, which means he doesn't have to go to school for a whole week or something like that, which is awesome. If we had eggs, we probably would have dyed them already so we could do our Easter Egg Smackdown, but we don't have eggs. I used the last one yesterday when Rachel and I made all those sugar cookies for primary. We'll have to go get some tomorrow.
Rachel making sugar cookiesA good Good Friday
Today is Good Friday, so I thought it was appropriate for Rachel to wear her “Easter Sunday” dress today, since we go to church on Fridays here. It’s a hand-me-down from my friend Mary Kay’s daughters and I think it’s so adorable! It’s been sitting, waiting, in Rachel’s closet for her to get big enough to wear it. (Her hair clip is courtesy of Auntie Emily and the shoes she chose to wear are from Jacqueline).
I wasn’t sure if it would even fit her yet since it’s 2T and she still wears some 12 month (and sometimes smaller) clothes, but sizes are irrelevant, I guess. She has some 18 month capris that she still wears that I started putting her in when she was like 9 months old because I thought they were pants. Then my friend Natalie said, “Oh, Hailey had pants just like those…only she wore them when she was about a year and a half…and they were capris, not pants.” So that’s why they were so short. Got it. Those particular pants have had a lot of wear.
Anyway, back to her Easter dress…
She tried it on last night and was so excited to wear it to church the next day. She kept twirling around in her room and looking at herself in the mirror.
When we were ready to go to church this morning I couldn’t help but take some pictures of her. She looked so adorable and grown up!
I asked her if she was ready to go to church and she yelled, “NO!” and ran off. A few seconds later she emerged again carrying a copy of the Book of Mormon. Her favorite song right now is “Book of Mormon Stories.”
“Boot a Morma,” she said. And then she was ready to go to church. She carried her little scriptures the whole way (we even made it on time) and sat so nice and still during sacrament meeting, folded her arms, sang the songs, and said “Amen!” at all the right times.
She was excited because Mommy and Daddy gave talks today. I was worried that she would cry when I went up on the stand but she sat nicely on Andrew’s lap. It was definitely a good Good Friday!
Thursday, April 09, 2009
It's not funny!
Sometimes Rachel thinks she's hilarious but, very much like my little brother Patrick, these are often the times she's not very funny at all. For example, she thinks bonking her head into my collarbone is gut-wrenchingly comical. She'll do it over and over again and expect me to laugh. The only thing is, I don't find it funny.
She also thinks that pretending to burp or cough is funny. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't.
When she's really funny, though, is when she isn't trying to be cute or funny. She's really funny when she's just being herself (which is when Patrick is also his best comedian-self).
Yesterday we were at the Lewis' still and we made macaroni and cheese for dinner. The kids were all rather excited. I think this was only Rachel's first or second exposure to mac'n'cheese, at least the boxed kind, and she loved it. The only problem was, we only made one box.
We should have known better, but in our defense it was family-sized.
We scooped some out for each of the kids, some of whom voraciously gobbled their helping and ignored their carrots (and later learned they should have eaten their vegetables first), and others who nibbled on theirs between bites of carrots saving the "best" for last (that's what we call smart). Rachel didn't get carrots because she chews them up and spits them out, which I find exceedingly nasty. I let her try one every now and then just to see if she has changed her mind about them, but she always just does the same thing: chews it to a pulp and then spits it out.
She never swallows her carrots and I don't understand why because if she can keep one in her mouth long enough to chew it to a pulp then obviously the taste/texture can't be that offensive to her so why doesn't she just finish the job and swallow already?
Anyway, soon everyone had finished their noodles and were vying for more, so Andrew went to make another box. Rachel kept asking for more and asking for more and asking for more and my answer was always the same,
"Just wait. Daddy's making more."
Eventually the need for cheese got to her. She picked up her plate and started licking it, which is kind of a traditional thing to do in the house I grew up in. It was a pink plastic plate and translucent enough that we could see her face through the dish. And she wasn't really holding the dish still and methodically licking it clean with her tongue. Oh, no.
She plastered the plate to her face, her two little hands smashing it up against her nose. She was smearing it all around, the whole time her tongue lolling out of her mouth. And she was making little noises like, "Ahhhllllaaallllaaahhhaalllahhh."
I don't know what happened, but suddenly everything else stopped and all 12 eyes in the room (mine and 5 other kids) were on Rachel. We stared at her for a minute and simultaneously cracked up laughing.
If Rachel could talk in complete sentences she would have wailed, "It's not funny!" And if she could have gotten off the chair by herself she probably would have stormed out of the room. But she was stuck in her chair and she can't really talk in complete sentences yet. So, struggling to communicate with words, what with the tremendous pressure of a whole room laughing at her, instead of talking, she growled.
"Grrrrrrrrraaaawr!"
And then she screamed.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"
And she was pretty much broken for the next hour or two. Her pride was seriously injured, poor girl, but it was just so funny!
She also thinks that pretending to burp or cough is funny. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't.
When she's really funny, though, is when she isn't trying to be cute or funny. She's really funny when she's just being herself (which is when Patrick is also his best comedian-self).
Yesterday we were at the Lewis' still and we made macaroni and cheese for dinner. The kids were all rather excited. I think this was only Rachel's first or second exposure to mac'n'cheese, at least the boxed kind, and she loved it. The only problem was, we only made one box.
We should have known better, but in our defense it was family-sized.
We scooped some out for each of the kids, some of whom voraciously gobbled their helping and ignored their carrots (and later learned they should have eaten their vegetables first), and others who nibbled on theirs between bites of carrots saving the "best" for last (that's what we call smart). Rachel didn't get carrots because she chews them up and spits them out, which I find exceedingly nasty. I let her try one every now and then just to see if she has changed her mind about them, but she always just does the same thing: chews it to a pulp and then spits it out.
She never swallows her carrots and I don't understand why because if she can keep one in her mouth long enough to chew it to a pulp then obviously the taste/texture can't be that offensive to her so why doesn't she just finish the job and swallow already?
Anyway, soon everyone had finished their noodles and were vying for more, so Andrew went to make another box. Rachel kept asking for more and asking for more and asking for more and my answer was always the same,
"Just wait. Daddy's making more."
Eventually the need for cheese got to her. She picked up her plate and started licking it, which is kind of a traditional thing to do in the house I grew up in. It was a pink plastic plate and translucent enough that we could see her face through the dish. And she wasn't really holding the dish still and methodically licking it clean with her tongue. Oh, no.
She plastered the plate to her face, her two little hands smashing it up against her nose. She was smearing it all around, the whole time her tongue lolling out of her mouth. And she was making little noises like, "Ahhhllllaaallllaaahhhaalllahhh."
I don't know what happened, but suddenly everything else stopped and all 12 eyes in the room (mine and 5 other kids) were on Rachel. We stared at her for a minute and simultaneously cracked up laughing.
If Rachel could talk in complete sentences she would have wailed, "It's not funny!" And if she could have gotten off the chair by herself she probably would have stormed out of the room. But she was stuck in her chair and she can't really talk in complete sentences yet. So, struggling to communicate with words, what with the tremendous pressure of a whole room laughing at her, instead of talking, she growled.
"Grrrrrrrrraaaawr!"
And then she screamed.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"
And she was pretty much broken for the next hour or two. Her pride was seriously injured, poor girl, but it was just so funny!
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
A typical Sam-Rachel Dialogue
Rachel (singing): Maisy, Maisy, Maisy, Maisy, Maisy... *
Sam: No, Rachel! Don't say Maisy!
Rachel (giggling slightly): Maisy!
Sam: RACHEL! Don't say Maisy!
Rachel (smiling manically): MAISY!
Sam (bellowing): NO NOT! RACHEL DON'T SAY MAISY!
Rachel (belly-laughing): MAISY!
Sam: NO NOT! NO NOT! NO NOT MAISY!
Rachel (compliant but still mischievous): O-tay, Mas. Happy!
Sam (calm again): No, Rachel. You not happy.
Rachel: Happy!
Sam (insistent): No, you NOT happy, Rachel!
Rachel: Yeah! Happy!
Sam: NO NOT! YOU NOT HAPPY, RACHEL!
Rachel: Happy. Maisy. Happy. Maisy. Happy. Maisy. Happy. Maisy.
Sam: NO! You not happy! Don't say Maisy! Maisy not happy! RACHELLLLL!! Thithter Heith!** Rachel saying Maisy!
How quickly children adapt to the roles of older and younger sibling. Never ceases to amaze me.
*Maisy is a show that both Rachel and Sam like. Sam has a DVD of it and we borrowed it once. The chorus of the theme song is so repetative that it makes you wonder 3 things: who wrote it? did they get paid to write it? and could I get paid to write something like that?
The chorus is as follows: Maisy, Maisy, Maisy, Maisy, Maisy, Maisy, Maisy, Maisy, Maisy Mouse.
It's kind of like the songs from Dora the Explorer. Take the map song, for example:
I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map! I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map! I'm the map!
Or, if you prefer, the backpack song:
Backpack! Backpack! Backpack! Backpack!
Suffice it to say, Rachel knows the words Maisy, map, and backpack very, very well.
** Sam lisps, which is not only amazing because his name is Tham, but also amazing because Sister Heiss has so many esses in it that it is absolutely impossible for Sam to say. Thithter Heith. So cute.
Sam: No, Rachel! Don't say Maisy!
Rachel (giggling slightly): Maisy!
Sam: RACHEL! Don't say Maisy!
Rachel (smiling manically): MAISY!
Sam (bellowing): NO NOT! RACHEL DON'T SAY MAISY!
Rachel (belly-laughing): MAISY!
Sam: NO NOT! NO NOT! NO NOT MAISY!
Rachel (compliant but still mischievous): O-tay, Mas. Happy!
Sam (calm again): No, Rachel. You not happy.
Rachel: Happy!
Sam (insistent): No, you NOT happy, Rachel!
Rachel: Yeah! Happy!
Sam: NO NOT! YOU NOT HAPPY, RACHEL!
Rachel: Happy. Maisy. Happy. Maisy. Happy. Maisy. Happy. Maisy.
Sam: NO! You not happy! Don't say Maisy! Maisy not happy! RACHELLLLL!! Thithter Heith!** Rachel saying Maisy!
How quickly children adapt to the roles of older and younger sibling. Never ceases to amaze me.
*Maisy is a show that both Rachel and Sam like. Sam has a DVD of it and we borrowed it once. The chorus of the theme song is so repetative that it makes you wonder 3 things: who wrote it? did they get paid to write it? and could I get paid to write something like that?
The chorus is as follows: Maisy, Maisy, Maisy, Maisy, Maisy, Maisy, Maisy, Maisy, Maisy Mouse.
It's kind of like the songs from Dora the Explorer. Take the map song, for example:
I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map! I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map! I'm the map!
Or, if you prefer, the backpack song:
Backpack! Backpack! Backpack! Backpack!
Suffice it to say, Rachel knows the words Maisy, map, and backpack very, very well.
** Sam lisps, which is not only amazing because his name is Tham, but also amazing because Sister Heiss has so many esses in it that it is absolutely impossible for Sam to say. Thithter Heith. So cute.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
5 things I love about being a mother
Andrew sent me a link about a blog that is trying to get "around the world in 80 clicks" by finding mommy bloggers all over the world. The meme is to write 5 things you love about being a mother and then tag 5 people to complete the tag. I guess somehow you're supposed to let them know that you did this, but I'm not sure how.
1) I love cuddle time. For this to happen, Rachel has to be in a remarkably good mood and not in trouble so usually it ends up happening right before bed, right after baths, and right after she wakes up. We sing songs and play hand games and just snuggle. We aren't in a rush to do anything and are simply enjoying each other. I also love sporadic cuddle time when Rachel comes to give me a hug and a kiss just because she needs or wants to.
2) I love (sometimes) how much Rachel needs me, and now that she is talking quite a bit, I love that she reminds me how much she needs me. I love hearing, "Help me!" and "Hold me!" and "Up!" and "Hands!" and "Play!" She often wants me to do things with her, which is fun. It's kind of like having a mini-best friend and I know that probably won't last forever because eventually she'll want privacy and independence.
3) I love potty training. Perhaps I don't like the actual training part, but I certainly like it when it's over. We are still using nighttime diapers, but hopefully soon we won't even need those anymore. I think my love for potties stems from my hatred of diapers.
4) I love sleeping children. I love sneaking into Rachel's room to peek on her sleeping. She looks so angelic when she's sleeping. She often looks angelic when she's awake as well...but doesn't always act that way! Sometimes I like to listen to her while she chatters and sings herself to sleep. A few days ago at nap time I caught her singing, "I cha-cha-chaya Gog!" and it just about melted my heart.
5) I love when our days go so smoothly that, not only did I not yell, I didn't even have to try to not yell. Days like that rarely happen. We like to be happy in our house and so when Rachel's having fits I put her aside somewhere and tell her she can come and find me when she's ready to be a happy girl. Now she's constantly telling me when she (or anything else) is happy.
I tag Catherine in Jordan and Christine in Turkey, specifically. I also tag all my sisters/in-law and mom/in-law and anyone else who wants to do this.
1) I love cuddle time. For this to happen, Rachel has to be in a remarkably good mood and not in trouble so usually it ends up happening right before bed, right after baths, and right after she wakes up. We sing songs and play hand games and just snuggle. We aren't in a rush to do anything and are simply enjoying each other. I also love sporadic cuddle time when Rachel comes to give me a hug and a kiss just because she needs or wants to.
2) I love (sometimes) how much Rachel needs me, and now that she is talking quite a bit, I love that she reminds me how much she needs me. I love hearing, "Help me!" and "Hold me!" and "Up!" and "Hands!" and "Play!" She often wants me to do things with her, which is fun. It's kind of like having a mini-best friend and I know that probably won't last forever because eventually she'll want privacy and independence.
3) I love potty training. Perhaps I don't like the actual training part, but I certainly like it when it's over. We are still using nighttime diapers, but hopefully soon we won't even need those anymore. I think my love for potties stems from my hatred of diapers.
4) I love sleeping children. I love sneaking into Rachel's room to peek on her sleeping. She looks so angelic when she's sleeping. She often looks angelic when she's awake as well...but doesn't always act that way! Sometimes I like to listen to her while she chatters and sings herself to sleep. A few days ago at nap time I caught her singing, "I cha-cha-chaya Gog!" and it just about melted my heart.
5) I love when our days go so smoothly that, not only did I not yell, I didn't even have to try to not yell. Days like that rarely happen. We like to be happy in our house and so when Rachel's having fits I put her aside somewhere and tell her she can come and find me when she's ready to be a happy girl. Now she's constantly telling me when she (or anything else) is happy.
I tag Catherine in Jordan and Christine in Turkey, specifically. I also tag all my sisters/in-law and mom/in-law and anyone else who wants to do this.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)