THIS four-year-old.
THIS cute girl.
THIS moby wrap (but especially the girl in it).
THIS song.
THIS song.
and the fact that we are going to Utah in SEVEN DAYS!!!
Monday, December 12, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Lucky
What a lucky girl I am to get to see these two adorable faces every day!! Ahh, I love being a mommy :)
Monday, November 28, 2011
I want pie.
Today was one of those slap-you-back-to-reality-after-Thanksgiving-break kind of days.
Pumpkin pie withdrawals abound.
Trying to convince my son that we can't lie around watching Christmas movies all day was almost as hard as convincing mySELF to not stay in my pajamas and lie around watching Christmas movies all day.
My piano student arrives while my baby is napping and son is in "quiet time." Her lesson ends with Little Miss in my arms, barely holding back the tears, and Big Brother (having just slid down the long staircase on top of a slippery sleeping bag) snuggling in his sleeping bag in the doorway while snoring loud, pretend snores during my student's rendition of "Silent Night."
Little Miss must be held at all times, making getting things done quite tricky. (Wait, I'm supposed to actually get things done again? I want to just laze around and flip through Netflix while eating pumpkin
pie.)
Husband returns home after school and practically falls asleep at the dinner table.
Later my house is still, everyone is asleep, and I am about to climb into bed, when I realize that I never even completed the first thing on my to-do list today (Sad, right? I did do some other things, I swear!). I take about a minute and clean the toilet, then hop back into bed and check it off my list.
Whew, I'm ready for Christmas break already!
Pumpkin pie withdrawals abound.
Trying to convince my son that we can't lie around watching Christmas movies all day was almost as hard as convincing mySELF to not stay in my pajamas and lie around watching Christmas movies all day.
My piano student arrives while my baby is napping and son is in "quiet time." Her lesson ends with Little Miss in my arms, barely holding back the tears, and Big Brother (having just slid down the long staircase on top of a slippery sleeping bag) snuggling in his sleeping bag in the doorway while snoring loud, pretend snores during my student's rendition of "Silent Night."
Little Miss must be held at all times, making getting things done quite tricky. (Wait, I'm supposed to actually get things done again? I want to just laze around and flip through Netflix while eating pumpkin
pie.)
Husband returns home after school and practically falls asleep at the dinner table.
Later my house is still, everyone is asleep, and I am about to climb into bed, when I realize that I never even completed the first thing on my to-do list today (Sad, right? I did do some other things, I swear!). I take about a minute and clean the toilet, then hop back into bed and check it off my list.
Whew, I'm ready for Christmas break already!
Monday, November 14, 2011
sometimes I miss living in the dorms...
I was just remembering these great videos my brother made at BYU, and missing him as he is a missionary for the Mormon Church in Oaxaca, Mexico. Although I don't get the inside jokes in the video, it is totally reminiscent of living in the dorms at BYU - so you gotta love it! Enjoy!
oh and p.s. my brother is the awesome one playing the piano/singing. Miss him!!
oh and p.s. my brother is the awesome one playing the piano/singing. Miss him!!
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Friday, November 4, 2011
jeans on
It must be documented that little Ella Bay wore her first jeans today. Because of the "cold" Texas weather (ha), I decided to break out some clothes I bought for her to wear in Utah at Christmas time.
I think we may freeze when we get to Utah...
Oh but look how cute she is.
I think we may freeze when we get to Utah...
Oh but look how cute she is.
Choices
Today as I stood in my messy kitchen cooking dinner, mind rushing from task to task - things to check off, lessons to prepare, housework to be done - I saw my sweet boy playing on the rug, rolling silly putty into a looong snake, and my baby girl swinging in her swing, eyes big and taking in her world around her. I decided that these two little people were much more important than any dish I could wash or table I could set or piano student I could prep for. I hurriedly plopped the potatoes into the boiling water and picked up my girl. We had a nice cuddle. I visited with my three-year-old. We listened to music and sang along. We quickly cleared an end on our cluttered table, and served up our chicken and potatoes in bowls (nothing fancy tonight). We talked about things that make us happy. We ate all our dinner without a hint of whining. I sat on the bedroom floor with my two little pajamaed buddies and played two rounds of "Hi Ho Cherry-O" (I lost both times). Room cleaned, prayer said, book read, baby fed, both kids quiet in their beds. I tiptoed back down the stairs. I smiled at the mess, grateful that I let it be so I could spend a perfect evening with my children.
Monday, October 17, 2011
my life
Life with two young children is a beautiful mixture of sweet, heavenly times and hard, frustrating, pull-your-hair-out times. The hard times keep you humble and the sweet ones keep you from going absolutely crazy.
Our sweet girl cuddles up against me and falls asleep, sighing sweetly. I should put her down but I just can't.
At the end of a long day, I try to tackle a few things around the house (like that huge mound of dishes in the sink) so I put her down in her swing; immediately she cries hysterically. I sigh and pick up my mama's girl and she just grins.
Teaching my three-year-old patience is seriously testing my own.
Without fail, he always needs something while I am trying to feed Ella. Getting him to wait patiently is almost impossible.
My son dumps a whole bowl of sugar in my lemon butter cookie dough.
He locks his bedroom door and shuts it from the outside.
From his mouth is a constant stream of "Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?" and "Why? Why? Why?"
He warms my heart with questions like, "How did Jesus make Texas?"
He gives me the best hugs.
My son sweetly talks to my baby daughter and kisses her head.
My sweet Ella smiles and smiles at me and “talks” away. She has so much to say. I wonder what she could tell us if we could understand her?
There is a “Rrrrrip, rrrrip” sound coming from the piano room. There are strips of coloring book pages all over the rug.
A three-hole-punch is opened and its full contents of little paper circles are emptied all over the floor.
He rips a page right out of a library book (but could that be our fault from quoting that line from the movie “Up?”)
As my son takes his bath we sing songs and play. He smells so good and looks so nice after his bath, I just want to hug him.
We drive to dinner at the home of some friends’. I have two plates of cookies in hand that start sliding around as Daddy turns sharp corners (we are a little late, as is common with two young kids). I express my concern over his driving. James, who tends to stand up for his mommy, worriedly and frantically yells at his Daddy for the rest of the drive to be careful of the cookies! We try not to laugh.
Nightly dinner-time battles with our picky eater leave us frazzled and exhausted. Especially when we are guests for dinner at the home of friends, and James whines throughout the meal.
Nightly bedtime prayers and scriptures recited by our little boy leave us grateful and humbled.
You can only hear “but Mommy…” so many times before you lose your cool.
Sometimes I need a time-out more than my son does. And sometimes I take one. Quiet time is also a must.
Constant needs, incessant whining, never-ending messes abound.
Cute faces, sweet smiles, simple prayers, loving siblings, good boy, adorable girl, happy home. It’s all worth it.
Our sweet girl cuddles up against me and falls asleep, sighing sweetly. I should put her down but I just can't.
At the end of a long day, I try to tackle a few things around the house (like that huge mound of dishes in the sink) so I put her down in her swing; immediately she cries hysterically. I sigh and pick up my mama's girl and she just grins.
Teaching my three-year-old patience is seriously testing my own.
Without fail, he always needs something while I am trying to feed Ella. Getting him to wait patiently is almost impossible.
My son dumps a whole bowl of sugar in my lemon butter cookie dough.
He locks his bedroom door and shuts it from the outside.
From his mouth is a constant stream of "Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?" and "Why? Why? Why?"
He warms my heart with questions like, "How did Jesus make Texas?"
He gives me the best hugs.
My son sweetly talks to my baby daughter and kisses her head.
My sweet Ella smiles and smiles at me and “talks” away. She has so much to say. I wonder what she could tell us if we could understand her?
There is a “Rrrrrip, rrrrip” sound coming from the piano room. There are strips of coloring book pages all over the rug.
A three-hole-punch is opened and its full contents of little paper circles are emptied all over the floor.
He rips a page right out of a library book (but could that be our fault from quoting that line from the movie “Up?”)
As my son takes his bath we sing songs and play. He smells so good and looks so nice after his bath, I just want to hug him.
We drive to dinner at the home of some friends’. I have two plates of cookies in hand that start sliding around as Daddy turns sharp corners (we are a little late, as is common with two young kids). I express my concern over his driving. James, who tends to stand up for his mommy, worriedly and frantically yells at his Daddy for the rest of the drive to be careful of the cookies! We try not to laugh.
Nightly dinner-time battles with our picky eater leave us frazzled and exhausted. Especially when we are guests for dinner at the home of friends, and James whines throughout the meal.
Nightly bedtime prayers and scriptures recited by our little boy leave us grateful and humbled.
You can only hear “but Mommy…” so many times before you lose your cool.
Sometimes I need a time-out more than my son does. And sometimes I take one. Quiet time is also a must.
Constant needs, incessant whining, never-ending messes abound.
Cute faces, sweet smiles, simple prayers, loving siblings, good boy, adorable girl, happy home. It’s all worth it.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Heritage
I awake in the middle of the night to feed my baby daughter. These 3 am feedings can be harsh on a tired mommy. As I feed my sweet Ella I turn on my iPod to stay awake, and I read family letters from my parents - old letters from their law school days when I was just a baby, and emails sent today from across the world in Siberia.
I can't put these old letters down, identifying with my parents as they happily struggle through school with a young family, raising little ones, couponing, serving in the Church, facing the future with faith, relying on each other, Dad studying away while Mom took care of everyone. Food on the table, house cleaned, children taught, husband happy. Can I be a wife and mother as she was? We are in their shoes. I can't stop the smiles as I realize that I, once that chubby little girl with cereal on her head who wouldn't say a word, am now the mother - feeding, teaching, raising, quizzing my husband before exams, shopping on a tight budget, taking care of it all. I wonder if I can do it all as well as she did.
And I read their letters now - devour them, really - blinking back my tears as they step out of their comfortable world, out of the life they have always known, into the vast and cold land of Siberia, to serve the Russian people - preaching amazing sermons in halting Russian, visiting tiny congregations in ancient Russian cities, sleeping on Arctic trains, bringing the Gospel to sweet people in old Soviet apartment buildings, bidding farewell to tiny congregations of Saints who, with tears in their eyes, thank them for coming and visiting them in distant cities. Teaching, serving, building, testifying, parenting and grandparenting from afar, doing the work of our Savior across many miles of Siberia, sharing His love and His message and His work.
I now run to my son's bedside as he awakes from a nightmare with a fright. I hold him and utter a quick prayer to put his mind at ease. My tiny baby daughter sleeps in her bassinet at my bedside, full and content. My husband in the bed next to me sleeps, probably dreaming of optometric terminology in anticipation of his exam tomorrow. As I am about to close my eyes for some much-needed sleep, I at once feel gratitude for my blessings, for the examples of my noble parents, and for this season of life I am in just as they once were, despite all the sleepless nights, long days, tiny bank accounts, dishes and laundry piled high, children needing me every moment.
Life is wonderful. And I am grateful.
I can't put these old letters down, identifying with my parents as they happily struggle through school with a young family, raising little ones, couponing, serving in the Church, facing the future with faith, relying on each other, Dad studying away while Mom took care of everyone. Food on the table, house cleaned, children taught, husband happy. Can I be a wife and mother as she was? We are in their shoes. I can't stop the smiles as I realize that I, once that chubby little girl with cereal on her head who wouldn't say a word, am now the mother - feeding, teaching, raising, quizzing my husband before exams, shopping on a tight budget, taking care of it all. I wonder if I can do it all as well as she did.
And I read their letters now - devour them, really - blinking back my tears as they step out of their comfortable world, out of the life they have always known, into the vast and cold land of Siberia, to serve the Russian people - preaching amazing sermons in halting Russian, visiting tiny congregations in ancient Russian cities, sleeping on Arctic trains, bringing the Gospel to sweet people in old Soviet apartment buildings, bidding farewell to tiny congregations of Saints who, with tears in their eyes, thank them for coming and visiting them in distant cities. Teaching, serving, building, testifying, parenting and grandparenting from afar, doing the work of our Savior across many miles of Siberia, sharing His love and His message and His work.
I now run to my son's bedside as he awakes from a nightmare with a fright. I hold him and utter a quick prayer to put his mind at ease. My tiny baby daughter sleeps in her bassinet at my bedside, full and content. My husband in the bed next to me sleeps, probably dreaming of optometric terminology in anticipation of his exam tomorrow. As I am about to close my eyes for some much-needed sleep, I at once feel gratitude for my blessings, for the examples of my noble parents, and for this season of life I am in just as they once were, despite all the sleepless nights, long days, tiny bank accounts, dishes and laundry piled high, children needing me every moment.
Life is wonderful. And I am grateful.
Monday, October 3, 2011
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