Payback

A couple years ago, a kind soul gifted us her daughter's outgrown Fisher Price dollhouse. Evelyn was pretty young at the time, and when I saw how big it was, I was certain we would be passing it on within a week. It immediately became the most loved toy in our apartment. Two years later, she still plays with it every day.

Since we received the house used, some of the various accessories were missing. Notably, the father and the children. So, last Christmas (2009), we gave Evelyn a family for the house. The former childless, husbandless Mommy became the Careen (probably because my sister is the only person Evelyn could think of with redish hair).

Everyone got along fine for a couple of months. Then, one day while we were living in Washington Heights, I realized that the new Mommy was gone. I asked Evelyn about it, and she seemed unconcerned but had no idea where the doll was. I kept an eye out for a few months and was convinced she was truly lost.

This was problematic because, in the interim, the Careen started doing all sorts of things she should NOT have been doing. Like, sleeping in the bed with the Daddy, for example---always fully clothed, and usually with robes on, but still! Hussy.

Luckily, John rediscovered the real Mommy during our move back to the east side. She happily took her place as cohead of the household once more, and things were fine again. But that Careen always had a certain glint in her eye, a kind of look that made me think she didn't like being shoved aside for the second time. I could sense a tension, and I figured the Careen and the Mommy would have to have it out eventually.

A week or so ago, Evelyn brought this to me after quiet time.

Unfortunately (ahem) I was unable to repair the damage.

Score one for the home team.

Pop quiz

Question 1: Which baby goes with which father?

Fathers:

Babies:

(Yes, we did take 3 children to Johnny Utah's to watch their fathers ride the mechanical bull. I think this makes us either awesome parents or terrible parents, but I'm not sure which one. Does the fact that we watched from the doorway instead of from the bar swing it towards awesome?)

Question 2: Which child is appropriately dressed for January in New York?

Note: These are not trick questions.

Faith

I am a girl who likes to have a plan. Right now, I can roll off when I want to have my next child, then the child after that. I already know what furniture I want to put into my bedroom a year from now and the kids' room a year after that. I want to buy a car, but not until early 2013. I have vacations scheduled for one, two, and three years from now. I am an obsessive planner. Life seems determined to beat it out of me, and I am apparently just as determined not to let it.

Faith is a tricky thing for those of us who like to have a plan. Today, someone close to me received good news. In this news, I could finally see how God had arranged many intricate pieces to fit together in a simple, elegant solution to some troubling problems. I could see how things that seemed like trials at the time (and were!) led to blessings that would not have been possible otherwise. I realized what He had been aiming for all along, and I felt a little guilty for second-guessing from the sidelines a few times along the way.

So today, for a moment, I listen. I am still. I acknowledge, once again, that He is God.

The irony

Last weekend, John and I ordered this chair for our living room (upholstered).

We liked this one better,

but it didn't seem that child friendly.

Which is why it's ironic that I'm thinking of getting two of these toddler-sized chairs for Evelyn and co.

Welcome to tummy time

Hated past-time of babies everywhere.

Worth every penny

I tend to be either a drastic saver or a drastic spender. When we were first married, I think I went almost 2 years without buying a single item of clothing. Lately, I've been living more on the "spending" side of that line, but it's hard to harbor any regrets since everything I've bought recently seems destined to make my life better in meaningful ways.

I have developed a testimony of properly fitted European bras. If you live in the New York City area, do yourself a favor and visit Intimacy on 64th and 3rd or 90th and Madison.

Saturday, we bought a chair and ottoman for our living room. When our home teachers come over three months from now, maybe we won't have to all sit awkwardly on the couch together. Here's a word problem for all you elementary school math nuts out there: If I ordered furniture on December 27 with a 11-15 week lead time and then ordered more furniture on January 22 with an 8-10 week lead time, when will two trains leaving Ohio and North Carolina meet in New York?

Formula? Expensive, yes, but Hyrum gained 3 pounds in his first 6 weeks on the stuff (while eating only the minimum amount of fluid his pediatrician says he needs) making it worth its weight in gold, or chub, I guess.

Earlier this month, I bemoaned the expense of dating. This weekend, John and I went on the first of the dates he planned as a Christmas present to me. As a result, topping my list of recent spending that was worth every penny?
Two taxis,

two macarons,

two planetarium double feature tickets,

two sandwiches,

and four hours of babysitting.

Miscommunication

This morning, John was in the shower while I was brushing my teeth. We were talking about the kids. During the conversation, he said, "I'm learning so much about how to be a better parent from you."

Unfortunately, I heard, "I'm learning so much about how to be a better parent than you."

I hate it when that happens.

Distressing

A couple days after Christmas, John and I ordered a new table+chairs and a coordinating freestanding island. This relatively large furniture purchase has been on our list since we bought our apartment and its tiny kitchen; the island will almost double my kitchen cabinet space.

When it came time to pull the trigger, the big remaining question was "distressing." We ordered the furniture in maple, which has a very smooth grain. The Amish craftsmen sand it until the finished product has an almost mirror-like sheen. Very beautiful. Also completely impossible to maintain for those with children who like to bang or spill or color.

The question was this: Should we pay an approximately 10% premium to have it systematically distressed for us or just wait and deal with an awkward finish for a couple years while our kids complete the process in a less organized way?

Friday night, Evelyn and I were having a dance party, grooving to the ABC stylin' of Hyrum's Christmas present when she slipped fell against the side of our coffee table. Thanks to a good friend's referral, we spent about an hour at a wonderful, kid-friendly doctor's office and got her face stitched up by a fully trained plastic surgeon instead of waiting five hours to have an ER resident do it.

Later that night, we surveyed the damage.

After checking out her face,

John pointed to a new battle scar the side of the coffee table. "This where she fell?" he asked. Yep, that's it.


We bought our cherry coffee table pre-children. It was not distressed then. It's coming along nicely.

The dating game

When John and I got married, I was thrilled to be permanently finished with the dating game. Without detailing enough of my dating history (or lack thereof) to embarrass myself any further than necessary, let's just say I was never much in demand. By the time I graduated college (at 21), my mom was convinced I would never get married. I'm still a little shocked that I did, sometimes, since dating leads to marriage and I was pretty much an utter failure at dating until John.

Those first few years of newlywed* dating were bliss; I congratulated myself sometimes on snagging such a great date - for good.

What I didn't know then was that the dating game would reappear, full force, once we had children. This time, the tables have turned, and I'm the one doing the asking (and the paying).

For some reason, I often have trouble finding babysitters. Between seminary and school, the teenagers in our ward are pretty much booked for weeknight dates. On Friday night, the unofficial date night of Mormons everywhere, they have youth group. Saturday is the best night for finding sitters, but John has 5:30 meetings the next morning most weeks. It's complicated.

Last Saturday, we went to the temple with a few friends. I asked 7 people if they could babysit before finally getting a yes. Luckily, the yes was a great teenager I've been meaning to initiate into the kids' bedtime routine for awhile, so the fact that he appeared so deep in the pool was more indicative of my laziness in not wanting to explain everything again, less indicative of how competent he is as a sitter.

Dating once you have kids is also expensive. For example, we can pay $70+ to see a movie in the theater, or we can wait four months, then pay $5 to see it on pay-per-view. In theory, the fact that we're paying for a sitter should make us go on somewhat less expensive dates to compensate. In practice, it doesn't seem worth paying for the sitter unless we're doing something substantial, which usually means something that costs more money. Going to the temple is probably the exception that proves the rule, although temple dates tend to begin or end with dinner for the same reason. It's sad to pay $40+ for a sitter and not even get a meal out of it. Why not pay $70 and at least go to dinner, right?

This second-round dating angst has made me realize something. When I was in high school, I always had a satisfying list of customers eager to have me over on date night. So, as it turns out, I wasn't as much of a dating failure as I thought during my college years. Apparently, I just peaked early.

This time around, I am getting a lot more practice than I did last time, so I have high hopes of my skills improving. For example, when I realized last Thursday we needed a babysitter for that Sunday as well, I only had to ask twice before striking gold.

By the far the best part of this stage of the dating game, however, is not being in it alone. For Christmas, John gave me the best present I never could have asked for. He planned 11 dates for 2011, about one a month for the next year, and he arranged all the babysitting in advance.

----

*Personally, I consider any pre-Evelyn time as part of the newlywed phase.

In response to Anonymous

Someone commented on my January doldrums post asking whether I should reconsider entering the paid workforce since my blog often gives the impression that I would really like to return to work. When I get comments with questions, I sometimes email the commenter in response to their question. However, since this question was left anonymously, and since I think it would be nice to air the issue a little anyway, I thought I'd respond here.

If you know me very well, it will not surprise you when I say that I am not and do not ever aspire to be perky. The first time I told John he was "unique" (said with vocal inflection implying the quotes), he got a little offended. But in my family, and especially among my sisters and me, "weird," "odd," and "unique" are compliments. "Perky," however, is something we avoid. We have some dear friends who manage to be perky but not shallow, who avoid pride and retain sincerity despite their perkiness. It's not a balance any of us can strike, so we shy away.

I have a sort of radar that goes off when a blog post gets too sickly sweet or too braggy. I know some of my posts are that way, but I try not to overdo it. As a result, the section of my life presented to the world here is more venting, less basking in the glory of how fun it is to be me; it's an incomplete picture of how I feel about my life as a whole.

The moments that warm a mother's heart, and they happen every day, often do not find their way onto this blog. The best ones are crafted into little notes I send my kids for them to read later. My line between what is and is not too personal to share with the WWW is drastically different from that of many people I know. I'm much more likely to put stories out there about the bad and ugly than about the good. So, this blog would likely leave readers with the impression that I'm a little dissatisfied with my life whether I were working or not.

In fact, at this point in my life, I am more confident and happy in my decision to be home with my children than I have ever been. That's not to say I wouldn't like to return to work someday. I fully plan on doing so. If my profession were one where I could work a few hours a week, spend minimal time away from my children (no more than 2 short to normal-length days), genuinely enjoy what I did, and still make some money after paying for my taxes and childcare, I would strongly consider it. I have yet to find anything that comes close to meeting those requirements.

Even if a plush opportunity existed, I would have to think long and hard about taking it. You won't hear me talk much about my personal feelings on the issue of parents staying home here or anywhere else, but I do have strong feelings on the topic as it relates to those in my particular situation. (If the previous sentence in any way offends you, just assume you're not in my particular situation; that was about as politically sensitive as I could make it.) On a more practical level, I think any marriage can handle 1.5, maybe even 2 jobs well. John's commitments often amount to what seems more like 2.5 jobs. It's a lot, and I think trying to add onto that would significantly decrease the happiness level in our home.

Just because I choose to stay home, however, doesn't mean it's always easy. If I worked, that wouldn't always be easy either. There are frustrations and challenges no matter which path you choose, and with regards to the last post, specifically, I don't think ANYONE likes to spend hours on the phone with customer service representatives, pay hundreds of dollars to replace something that was working fine 8 hours ago, or take small children to department stores. My husband did some of these same things over the break, and he was about ready to pull his hair out, too. Working outside the home wouldn't make any of those tasks less annoying, and they would still all need to be done.

Everyone has to find a way to get through the tough days and the rough patches. For me, what I personally most want when stuff happens is just to feel like I'm not alone. So, I call a friend, or I call my mom, or I write a story about how annoyed I was that someone cursed at me for taking my kid on the bus, and I send that story out on the internet. Maybe someone will read it and tell me they've been there. Or maybe someone will read it who hasn't been there, and then, when it happens to them, they won't feel so alone. And maybe, just maybe, that can make it a little easier for all of us.

Why we don't like January

In the past three days, I
-cleaned up from having guests
-took a load to the storage unit and ran a 10-foot freestanding ladder/staircase into my foot, then switched all our stuff into a different storage unit by myself with a screaming baby
-did all the laundry from having guests
-dropped my phone in the bathtub while bathing pee-covered baby at the same time I was getting Evelyn breakfasted and dressed for school, then spent an entire day trying to get it replaced for something less than full retail value (no insurance)
-deep cleaned most of the apartment
-made an exchange at Macy's, which involved taking both children to three different floors looking for the item, then having several deep philosophical discussions with the salesman on thrilling topics such as "Why didn't your husband see this ink on the sleeve when he bought the coat?" and "Are you sure this slightly smaller size of trench coat will still fit him?", after which I waited approximately half my life for him to find his manager, interupped partway through by going to a fourth floor to find a bathroom for Evelyn, which led to another meaningful discussion about "Why is it so stinky in here?"
-started the process of getting one of my two broken strollers fixed
-missed my husband (away for two days on a business trip), my inlaws, and my sister+husband+baby. Lots.

Although I wouldn't exactly have called it restful, I really enjoyed the last two weeks of December and much prefer vacation to most of January so far. I think I'd like to trade in real life for more vacation, please.

Good thing we're headed to Utah for a week next month. Hopefully, the trip will involve more family jammie time and less interaction with customer service representatives than the past three days.

Gloria

And behold, there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon; and the same man was just and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel: and the Holy Ghost was upon him.

And it was revealed unto him by the Holy Ghost, that he should not see death, before he had seen the Lord's Christ.

And he came by the Spirit into the temple: and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him after the custom of the law,

Then took he him up in his arms and blessed God, and said,

Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to they word:

For mine eyes have seen thy salvation,

Which thou has prepared before the face of all people;

A light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel.

And Joseph and his mother marvelled at those things which were spoken of him.

* * *

Today, my mind is with my friend MaryBeth and her daughter Lily. And I cry when I think what it will be like when she sees her baby again, and I marvel once more at the child born so long ago, He who reaches through the centuries and 2000 years later, still brings peace, light, and glory.

1/1/11

We've been putting Careen and Mark to work. We figure, we've had 2 kids : 2 adults for months now, so it's their turn, right?

And yes, Hyrum is sad to be 2.5 months older but about 7 pounds lighter than Dillon. Although he is very proud to have gained 2 pounds, 3 ounces in the last 31 days (since starting formula). He is now almost back to the 15th percentile in weight at 7 months, after a hungry road down to the 5th percentile by 6 months. Long live formula!