Dear Malia...

Dear Lili-bug,

Today you used the potty! The joy that this brought to the depths of my soul was shocking. I've heard from other mothers that this would be the case... and I know the road doesn't end here (you are FAR! from "potty-trained"... once does not a new trick make), but this is quite an accomplishment, especially for you. From birth, your digestive system has not been your best friend. Pooping is something that has always been difficult for you (and I can just picture your beautiful face glowing with embarrassment as you read this 10 years from now). Because of this, our attempts at beginning the potty-training process have all failed. You are almost scared of it.

We've purchased a little seat to make that big hole not seem so daunting. It even has little yellow duckies on it and bubbles that glow-in-the-dark. We've purchased a hot pink step-stool to make it so that your feet have somewhere to plant themselves and not dangle in the abyss. There is even a large jar of bribery M&Ms sitting right next to the toilet (which I'm sure has been the cause of great confusion of any recent guests). I've promised you dance lessons, which you've been asking for daily, once you master this crucial step into being socially acceptable. You have a "potty" in your own room that sings songs to you, lights up, and praises and applauds you when you push the flusher. None of these things have made using the potty appealing to you.

However, today, you were standing in the shower, playing with your toys as I got dressed when, out-of-nowhere, I heard the most magnificent 7 words ever. "Mommy! I need to use the toilet!" After pinching myself, I ran to your aid to see your soaking little nekkid body in the shower with your hand covering your little places and a look of concern on your face. I hoisted you up as quickly as my bulging belly would allow and set you on the toilet. And there, Niagara occurred! The joy that tinkling sound caused in my heart was insurpassable. All of this without any of those gimmicks we've spent far too much money on! After I helped you wipe, flush, & wash your hands, I gave you 2 M&Ms and a big hug. I told you how proud I was and the grin on your face was priceless. It was almost as if you were more proud for making me proud than I was of you. These are the moments that make the bond of a mother & child unbreakable... until you're 15 and hate me.


On Sunday, your father had a Priesthood meeting, and to pass the time, you & I took a walk. The moon was out and full and looked larger than usual. As we walked, hand-in-hand, you shouted with excitement, "Look at the moon, Mommy! It's so BLUE-tiful!" You made this statement at least a dozen times throughout our walk, with each time full of as much vigor as the last. It was inspiring to me. The simple things. You appreciate them in a way I've forgotten how. Thanks for the reminder, kiddo. I'm learning a lot from you.

You also were convinced that the moon is a living, breathing friend of yours. You shouted out to it, "C'mon, moon. Wanna' hang out with us?! It be fun!" I had to explain to you that the moon had an obligation to light up the night sky and that maybe it would play with you later. I am finding my poor excuses are working less as you get smarter, as you woke up the next morning and asked me, "Will the moon hang out with us today?" I just smiled. I was too tired to have a clever explanation.


Whenever we are in the car, you ask me over & over, "What're you gonna' DO today, Mama? A' gonna' DO today?" I usually tell you, but it doesn't stifle the questioning. Five minutes later, you ask again. The only time my answer seems to suffice enough for you to stop asking is when the answer pleases you. "We're going to play at Disneyland, Malia." "Yes. We are!" And then a lovely, peaceful quiet the rest of the way... until we pull into the parking structure, which usually then elicits run-on, yet somehow incomplete, sentences about which rides you intend to go on. You've definitely inherited that ability from me. You begin to speak, but it's as if your mouth is going faster than your brain, and you say the first few words to your sentence about 1/2 a dozen times before you figure out what it is you were trying to say. Sometimes you get distracted by another thought and your sentence detours in that direction. It drives your father nuts as he now lives with 2 women he can't communicate with.


I've noticed lately that most children your age are not very obedient. You are, and I am blissfully aware and grateful for this. When we are out & about, I will hear a parent shout demands and warnings to their children multiple times as the child completely ignores them and continues on their merry way. Not only do my commands usually immediately stop you in your place, but if you didn't hear what I said, you will turn to me, squint one eye, and pull up the corner of your mouth on that same side, which gives you a very adult-like perplexed expression, and say, "Wha' you saying, Mama?" Then I am given the chance to repeat myself and you obey. Honestly, could it get any easier?

Whenever I make a little noise and grab my belly in reaction to being kicked by your future (and incredibly powerful) little sister you will say to me, "Your belly hurts, Mama? 'ecause baby sister is kicking your belly. Be nice, baby sister!" I know the day will come when the 2 of you will be in cahoots against me, so for now, I appreciate your concern more than you know.

Love, Mommy

Dear Malia...

DISCLAIMER

I've decided to steal this idea from my friend Liz, who does this on her blog for her little boy, because I think it's an ingenious way to keep memories... for as terrible as I am at journal-keeping, blogging is slowly mending that.

Dear Lili-bug:

There comes a point in every mother's life where she finds that the one thing she had all the answers to, she no longer does. As I once considered myself the unofficial sleep expert, you have now come to prove that you can challenge me beyond any of my prior knowledge. You have gone from being the most wonderful little sleeper (i.e. I close the door and never hear a peep until I decide it's time for sleep to be done) to now letting me know exactly how things will be done. Just as I was beginning the great debate of whether or not to move you to a "big-girl bed" because my gradually expanding belly was beginning to make bending over a crib a daunting daily task, you have come to remind me that there is nothing wrong with the brilliance of a "cage" that you cannot escape without my aid. Otherwise, I fear your father and I would be getting no sleep at this point. In the past, when we'd lay you down at night, we'd hand you your blanket, turn out the light, shut the door, and you were banned from our presence until morning... which you were once fine with. Now, you call out to me the moment the door closes, asking me to "Fixed it. Fixed my blankie, please!" or "I wanna' lay on my tummy!" or "I'm done sleeping!" (the latter being my personal favorite). Naps were my sanctuary, as they were still perfect... until yesterday. You have officially begun playing the "I need Mommy!" game for those, as well. All of this happening at increments of 10 minutes for a good 1/2-hour to 45 minutes. I wonder if this is your way of telling me you need less sleep now, which I'm aware was inevitable. I guess I was just hoping that wouldn't happen until your little sister was already born and sleeping through the night.
You are already quite the little actress. We took you to an acting school the other day, just out of curiosity, and the owner/director wanted to enroll you so badly that she was even willing to offer you a partial scholarship into her VIP program for 1/2 price! (only a million dollars instead of a billion)! While you father and I appreciated having our instincts about you validated, we decided we could probably teach you anything they could and more. You already say and do whatever we ask as long as there is an audience present ("Dance, monkey! Dance!"). You love applause to the point that you squeal with delight whenever it's given. You've even mastered "bowing." You have absolutely no inhibitions with strangers of all ages and often frighten small children with your lack of the concept of personal space. You look at me in shock when you've introduced yourself nose-to-nose to another child only to receive a smack or a shove. It breaks my heart because I see the betrayal in your face as you try to register why your approach has gone unappreciated. We'll have to cover all of these social graces before grade school, I think.
Now that Mommy's annual Disneyland pass is no longer blocked because the summer is... sort of.. over, it's hard to go a day without you bringing up the possibility of going. I never thought someone could love the place more than I do. However, it's a much more difficult trek now that I'm getting awkward and you are getting bigger. The heat doesn't help. Last night we were able to convince Daddy to go for FHE. That made it so much better as he did most of the carrying when you were too distracted for us to get through the crowds at a desired pace. The best part of the night was watching you on your Daddy's shoulders as you frantically and desperately waved for acknowledgement from Tinkerbell in the parade as it passed.

Everything is "beautiful" to you these days. "Look at the giant moon, Mommy. It's so beautiful." "See those cars? They are beautiful!" "Oh, Mommy, a fly, see? It's so beautiful!"

Your new thing is imitation. Well - I shouldn't say "new"... I've been having to watch what I say for almost 2 years now. But the other day, as we were pulling through a McD's drive-thru, I opened your window as well as mine (it seems to keep you more entertained) and as I ordered, you repeated everything I said to the intercom in as loud a voice as possible. Fortunately, it didn't confuse the order.

You really have picked up being polite quite well, which amazes me, because I've never considered myself as good at that as I'd like to be, myself. Your "pleases" and "thank yous" come out with ease and you are also very good at saying, "Oops, sorry. Excuse me" when you accidentally bump into a stranger in public. I beam with pride as the stranger acknowledges you and smiles, impressed with what a little lady you are.
I purchased your Halloween costume already. I know it's not even September, but last year, it took me forever to find the Tinkerbell costume I wanted in the right size because people pick away at them so quickly. When I found they had exactly only one in your size yesterday, I snagged it! You have pretty much been wearing it ever since. I have to make you take it off when we go places, because it does need to last at least 2 months from now. Your favorite accessory are the gloves. You've been saying, "I'll be Minnie Mouse for Halloween!" every morning for about 2 weeks now. "And Daddy be Mickey and Mommy be Pluto!" You've also begun "casting" other family members. Yesterday you decided that Grandma will be Donald and Grandpa will be Goofy. Good luck convincing them. Although, you're such a charmer, I've no doubt you'll get farther than anyone else ever has...

Love, Mommy

To the Bestest Daddy in the World

(The above video has music so be sure to turn off the main music at the right)

I couldn't ask for a better person to be the example and strength you are for our children. You work so incredibly hard to provide us with the necessary temporal means needed to survive in this mortal life which gives us the incredibly under-rated blessing of me being able to stay home with our children. Their success in pursuing eternal life is that much more possible because I have you to share the challenge with. And I'm excited to continue the task with you for baby #2. I know the Lord is at peace with sending us His children because of you and His trust in you.

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

Ode to Davey

I was noticing that the majority of this blog contains 2 topics: Malia's Milestones & My Rantings. David doesn't post on the blog (despite my best efforts to encourage him to do otherwise) and so, if you only knew our family through our blog, you might assume he didn't even exist.


Thus, the reason for this next post. Some of this will be old news to many of you. But a small handful of you might find it both enlightening and entertaining. I am mostly doing it to embarrass the heck out of my husband (as if I don't already do that on a daily basis... HA!) And because he needs the occasional affirmation of how awesome and appreciated he truly is.

When David and I met, we were on the other side of the world and we were both spoken for. That was the beauty of it. There was absolutely nothing that spoke of a possible romance between the two of us. We had both just been cast as performers at the then newly-opened Universal Studios Theme Park in Osaka, Japan. He had left a girlfriend behind back at BYU in Provo, and I had a missionary in Brazil. Our first impressions of each other were... less then spectacular. I had already been at the new place for a day, and he had just flown in that morning. I had been informed of "another Mormon" and was very excited to meet him. To be honest? I was hoping for a temporary fling while my missionary was gone. However, when David and I met for the 1st time just outside the elevator of the 8th floor, where we both would be living for the next year, we wrote each other off almost immediately. I saw him as shy, boring, and incredibly behind on the fashion times. (mind you, he was still somewhat fresh from the mission field). He saw me as loud, intimidating, and somewhat obnoxious... which, I suppose, isn't too far from the truth. However, in spite of, or maybe because of these reservations, we became fast platonic friends. He was even called to be my home teacher, which was convenient since we lived 3 doors away.

To cut to the chase: After 4 months of pure best-friendship, David and I started dating (he and the other girl had mutually parted by this time). Our relationship had it's ups & downs. But, for the most part, it was the easiest, healthiest relationship I'd ever had.

But the purpose of this was not to tell you how we met (I know, "Could've fooled me!")

The purpose is to shout to the world how grateful I am for the sacrifices he's made for Malia & I. If you are a regular reader of this blog, then you are more then aware that I chose Mommyhood over what may've been a potentially successful career on the stage. Well, when David & I were dating, he had goals to be a successful film actor. I told him that until he changed his plans, we could not discuss getting married. (hey - I was looking out for my future offspring, ok?!)

The long & the short of it? David currently has a Physics Masters Degree with an emphasis in Acoustics and a BA in Japanese and he works for a scientific research company as an Engineer so that he can put bread on the table and so that I can stay home with Malia.

BO-RING!

And he does it because he is an incredible human being. He is selfless, thoughtful, generous, righteous, all those other things I find myself lacking in.... the "Yin to my Yang," so-to-speak.

This is for him.

David, I love you, admire you, and am grateful, every day, to God,

for the gift of you.

You are my greatest blessing....

aside from the ones we've created together.