A Decision Made With His Aide

*Ha ha. I just realized my title rhymes.

I enjoy taking Malia to her dance class every Saturday morning for two reasons: the obvious, being that I love watching my adorable daughter run around in a tutu. The other is the fact that I get to enjoy adult conversation with the other moms. These women, although, come to think of it, I probably don't know any of their last names, have become a welcome social aspect of my week. We come from all different walks of life. Of the 5 of us who generally dominate the conversation, 2 of us are Caucasian, 1 is Hispanic, 1 is African American, and the other is Indian. 3 of them attend a popular Christian Church in the area. The other is an ex-Hindu who now claims to be agnostic. And I, of course, am LDS.

Aside from that, the other thing that I am also alone in is being a stay-at-home mom.

We talk about this a lot. Aside from "the agnostic" who absolutely loves her job, we all want to stay home with our kids, but I am the only one who claims to be able to make it work financially. ("making it work" is obviously a subjective perspective, of course).

A few weeks ago, we were talking about our career paths, and when it came to my "back story," the women seemed a little skeptical. I could sense they weren't quite sure a person would choose staying home over understudying the lead in a hit Broadway show in L.A. It also didn't help that I weigh (fill-in-the-blank) lbs. more now than I did at the peak of my performing age. And it also doesn't help that you're lucky if I even get out with any chap stick on, more or less, looking anything glamorous, to say the least.

People with talent... I should say, people with the talent to perform (everyone has talent of some kind), generally look a certain way, I've found. They usually keep up with the fashion trends; stay in good shape; overall, they keep their outward appearances appealing to the eye of a possible audience. Needless to say, on my average day, I just don't look the part.

But that's not the point of all of this (someday I will learn to mince less words... no I won't. Who am I kidding)?!

Last week, after a month of their prodding, I finally sang for them a small little ditty. And yes, it does feel weird to sing in intimate settings in front of a small group of friends. I much prefer a stage in front of thousands... that's normal, I promise.

They sat quietly for a minute and then one of them said, "Wow. I didn't expect you to be that good."

I was embarrassed, but pleasantly flattered.

Then another said, "Seriously. Why aren't you out there trying to get rich and famous? Your kids will understand someday. You don't want to sacrifice all that. I'm sure there's a way you can do both. "

I told them I knew I was doing what was best for my girls and that I was in the right place for me right now.

But, let me tell you - as often as I feel a little bummed once in a while about the supposed "sacrifice" I'm making to be home with my girls, I am grateful 1,000,000,000,000 times over that I have been blessed with the peace of mind knowing I am doing what's right for my babies. I don't credit myself with that... I don't profess to be some awesome woman who is totally at peace with her decisions. Not at all.

I credit God entirely. It's almost as if He has given some sort of shield to my heart so that, at those moments when certain questions arise again and again (as they always do), I am always overwhelmed with the peace I feel for making the decisions I've made up to this point. I thank God He has blessed me with that, because there ain't no way I'd be able to trudge through this without His calming influence.

Thanks for that , God.

Oh, and P.S. Thanks for these guys.

She's Baaaaa-aaaaack!

So... I had to go on a little "blogging va-cay" as the last 2.5 weeks of my life have involved a very sick, very irritable little girl.

A couple of weeks ago, Malia came down with, what I had ignorantly diagnosed as, possible allergies. David & I were both doing a little sniffling, and while Malia definitely had a lot more.... fluid... and was coughing quite a bit more then either he or I, I just chalked it up to that. (*warning:* any non-Mommies not fond of reading about bodily functions and/or the substances that come with them may want to stop reading).

We had a rough Saturday night where she was up all night coughing. That Sunday, her nursery leaders expressed a concern that Malia was quite grumpy, and that, while mostly well-behaved, that she was unusually touchy and that maybe there was something more. I now knew how other parents felt. My kid, the nursery favorite, actually had to get disciplined once or twice! *gasp* (I know - we're probably a little spoiled by her good-nature).



Two days later, it all began.

A little tug on her ear, a trip to the doctor, an ear infection diagnosis, and my child disappeared for 2 weeks. That is, to say, her body was here, but some unrecognizable, evil little "something-er-other" had replaced her wonderful spirit. For the next 2 weeks, we had a screaming, cranky, "must-be-held-constantly-and-only-by-Mommy-even-though-OB's-orders-are-Mommy-shouldn't-carry-her-anymore," doesn't sleep more then 2 hours at a time all night, Mommy actually had to bring her into her own bed 2 nights in a row (breaking my own cardinal rule), won't eat a thing and is losing weight, don't even look at me wrong, making it worse by not pooping at ALL no matter WHAT I do (although, that's actually nothing new), fever never dropping below 99.5 for 5 whole days, little monster. Joyous joys. It was a blast.

After 5 days of antibiotics as well as packing her full of Children's Tylenol - which I despise doing... am I the only Mom that lies awake at night, afraid her child is dead due to some freakish reaction to a pain killer...? - her pains seemed to get progressively worse until, finally, on a Saturday evening (of course. It is ALWAYS on a Saturday) we had to take her to the ER... or what I like to call "Purgatory." I'm telling you... if you want in and out as quickly as possible, you had better come in with a severed limb or a protruding organ or something. Malia's screaming was so loud and so constant that I had to sit outside with her while David waited inside to hear them call her name. I'm sure we were a sight: she & I sitting on a bench, both crying, her bundled up in her blanket, both hands pressing on her ears.

SIDE NOTE: This was the night of my high school 10-year reunion. Good thing I hadn't purchased the stupid tickets anyway. Meh. Who goes to those things anyway.... :(.

After 4 hours, she was "diagnosed" (even though they took no culture) with strep throat, where they gave her a shot that we then had to wait another 1/2 hour to make sure she didn't have any severe reactions to, and sent us home.

That Sunday, Malia fell asleep on me in Sacrament meeting. This, the child who must sleep in perfect conditions in her bed, in her room, at a specific schedule (which I created). The worst part was when she started asking to go to nursery. She acted as if I had completely broken her heart. "No, Lili-bug. Not today. You're too sick." "No, I not sick! I just fine! Want to see my friends!" Followed by a heart-wrenching pout, and then burying her snotty face in my sleeve and sobbing hysterically. Needless to say, I took her home and left David to fend for himself in Primary so that I could drug her with more Motrin.


Monday morning: I wake Malia and see that, on one side, her ear and her sleeve are completely covered in green, ear-waxy, almost like snot, "goop." There is also quite a bit on her sheet. Is this a good thing? Dunno. But hey, at least she smiled at me! I call the doctor to do a follow-up and he tells me her ears have begun to drain. He wants to prescribe more medication, and me, the anti-medicine-warrior that I am, ask if we can avoid anything taken internally. So he prescribes eardrops. What a novel idea! Let's give her something that actually goes right to the source! About freakin' time! (@#$%ing medical community).

For the last week, I've been having to get her to lay on one side at a time for at least 10 minutes per ear, 2 times a day. Let's just say, she hasn't loved it. And when each ear is done, I take a Q-tip and start cleaning away because, let me tell you, for such a little girl, there was a lot of crap coming out... a LOT. It started getting on my clothes and I came to realize why I generally avoid getting too primped for the day. Why bother.

BUT - we now see the end! She is herself! By herself, I mean, she laughs and plays and is happy and smiles... and obeys! (my personal favorite) And even goes to Daddy again! YAY!

Through all of this, she also became potty-trained and moved to a big-girl bed (I know - our timing of things couldn't have been better, right? We're cruel parents). I'll address those in a different blog.

But we survived, and I no longer have to consider putting her picture on a milk carton.

Welcome back, my little angel. We've missed you.

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

When Trials Become Blessings

Last night, I received a phone call from a newspaper reporter from my podunk hometown. Apparently, 3 of the 15 finalists for this "Wannabe Wicked" competition I'm doing are all from Apple Valley (where I grew up). The other 2 girls still live there. As he was asking me how I got involved in the competition, I was reminded once again of my experience with the show 2 years ago, when I was called back for Elphaba multiple times and found myself turning down any possible "opportunity" for the sake of being a mom to my wonderful Malia.

Some moms probably could've done both.

I am not one of those moms. Here's why -

Colic.

Colic. Colic. Colic.

Malia has been a joy to my life for 2 years now. But... she's 2 and a 1/2. There is a 1/2 a year of her life, at the beginning, where "joy" was the last thing I would've used to describe her. Harsh? Yeah - I know. But until/unless you've been there, you can't really understand.

But this post isn't about how hard colic made my life. I mean, I've dragged that through the mud and back... a few times. Besides, I don't think I need to talk about how crazy it was when pictures can be worth a thousand words:




Ah, the memories...

Last night as I was laying in bed, wide awake due to a wonderful head cold I've recently come down with and baby kicking me like Jackie Chan (so I had some chocolate... so what?) I was thinking back on how well Heavenly Father knows us. His allowing me to go through colic for as long as it was and as severe as Malia's case truly was, well, let's just say He knew exactly what I'd be learning from it.

I've decided to share the amazing blessings that came from the most tramautizing period of my life:

*I learned selflessness. My life was no longer about me. Of course, all mothers learn this lesson fairly quickly... but I think I was given the AP night school accelerated version of the class. All I wanted was to figure out how to improve Malia's life. My life was no longer a priority.

*David & I learned humility. It's amazing the horrendous things you are willing to say to someone you love when you have to do it at 3 in the morning in a voice loud enough to be heard over blood-curdling infant cries. We said sorry to each other... a lot.

*Being willing to apologize to a child. The multiple times I found myself apologizing to Malia for "letting her cry" and for looking at her with disdain and for desiring to physically do things (which I never did, mind you) were very enlightening to me as a parent. I hope I hold onto that perspective as she gets older. I want to be the kind of parent who is willing to step down from my place in order to say I'm sorry when it's necessary. I think children deserve that kind of honesty & humilty from a parent.

*Repentance. To this day I am still apologizing to God for the things I said to him in the wee hours of the night in my deepest, darkest anguish. But, the plus-side is... I think all the practice is making me good at it.

*Understanding what my purpose is. I had every intention of being a Broadway star. Even after Malia was born, I've pursued things briefly here & there. But I am always brought back to "ground zero," which is my little family. No amount of applause or fame could possibly compare to the fulfillment of being needed by my husband and child. There are days I lose that perspective, but I'll be darned if I don't always know it somewhere in the depths of my soul. It is so much better. I don't see it as a sacrifice at all... because I definitely have the better end of the deal. I am a wife & mother. Best. jobs. ever.

*I had to learn to take help. At this point, I want to give a shout-out to the most awesome ladies of the BEST ward in the UNIVERSE... Relief Society ladies of BYU 148th Wymount Ward 2005!!! Can I just say, they took my bitter rantings like a grain of salt. PLUS - they passed around a paper every week where they would sign up to take Malia for one hour every day so that I could find some semblance of peace in my life. I'm touched by it even just thinking about it, now. Those phenomenal sisters looked past my rugged, stubborn exterior and saw a desperate woman in need... a woman who is terrible at allowing people to help her do anything. I've always been far too independent for my own good. They wouldn't take no for an answer. Same time every day, a new sister would show up at my door and whisk the screaming child away. An hour later, they'd bring her back, Malia screaming at the top of her lungs, and the looks of pure apology on their faces were priceless. But they gave me a chance to miss my daughter. That one hour a day, I was given a chance to realize I did actually love her.

God really does know us...

I'm a Proud Mama... whatuvit?!

I had some pictures here & there of Malia that I was organizing through on my computer and I just wanted to share. There's no rhyme or reason to them other than that I feel like I have the most beautiful, amazing child ever! And while I do have a multitude of blessings, she is, by far, one of the greatest.

Last Easter, Malia received a very large package from her Grandpa filled with toys and candy... guess which part she liked the best?

Malia makes faces "on demand." I swear, it's true. The one above is her "sad face." She never holds the others long enough for me to get a good picture of them. One of these days....

The messier, the better it tastes, right?

Malia wanted to help me find our way through Disneyland... although, we've been there enough. She just likes to always take a map. /shrug

Malia at lunch at Downtown Disney after seeing her first movie, Wall*E, in the theatres. This is her response to, "Did you like the movie?" She's a total ham; I love it.

Playing "Pirates" with Grandma at Red Robin. She makes this face and says "Arrrrrrrrrrr!" Although, she struggles with the letter R, so the sound coming out is more like, "Awwwwwwwwww."

Trying on Daddy's "silly hat" from Japan.

"...while few human challenges are greater than that of being good parents, few opportunities offer greater potential for joy”
*President James E. Faust*

The Trip

Highlights of our trip (good & bad):

*Poor David stayed up until 4 AM tying up loose ends for work during our stop in Apple Valley on the first night.

*Stopping at Jan's house for Malia's nap! It was so much fun catching up with a dear friend and talking about shows of the past and our ideals of the future of our perfmorming lives. We've missed her. And she accidentally taught Malia her first swear word. Plus, David got to take a nap, too... bless his heart.

*Malia was really good about being stuck in the car. Watching "A Bug's Life" about 4 times probably helped. Also, me climbing into the backseat to give her my undivided attention didn't hurt either. Oh, and constant snacks... a God-send.

*Locking our keys in the car at a Cedar City gas station. Funny story... kind of. Depending on which of us you ask. I'll share it some time.

*Tina's dog tried to violate Malia. It was traumatizing at the time, but funny, now that we look back on it. Malia probably couldn't have cared less.

*Cafe' RIO!!!!! I had a list of places I was hoping to eat at while in Utah. This was the only one I had a chance for... but also the most important. YUM! And I only needed a TUMS for about 2 hours or so. (*grumble* pregnancy heartburn *grumble*)

*Observation: Utah gives me really chapped lips and my nose was always full of boogers. I didn't remember noticing that while I lived there... but it was driving me crazy during this trip! I borrowed chapstick from so many people. Who knows what kind of and how many diseases have now been spread.

*David gave Malia Hawaiian Punch in an open cup while she was wearing white pants... did he really think that would work? Really? Speaking of which, why did I not take any pictures the whole time I was there?!!

*David got some NASTY blisters on his back from his grandparents hot tub. They look painful. Like, open-wound-burn-blister painful. Not quite sure what to do for them...

*The wedding, of course. So awesome to be in the SLC temple with all of my siblings, their spouses, and my parents. When I got married, Tina couldn't attend because she was too young. No one was missing this time. AWE-some. And my Uncle Kent did the sealing... he has sealed all 3 of us girls, now. Very cool. He always says the most awesome things.

*Malia, the friendliest, sweetest, most outgoing & social child you could ever meet pretty much lost any semblance of herself for the entirety of the wedding day (which means I sorta', kinda' did, too). It had been 4 days since she'd even pooped, she hadn't been sleeping well, I forgot to pack her a lunch for the time we were at the temple so she ate 2 hours late, and then I had to discipline her for biting her cousin. My child has NEVER been a biter. I think she's crying in every. single. picture. Poor thing. It was not her best day.

*Cindy's hair wasn't 1/2 bad considering I just looked at some pictures on the internet and hoped for the best. I'm no professional, but I think she looked gorgeous... and I think I lost part of my fingernail in her hair. They're not fake or anything... it just cracked and then broke off. (Shhhhhhhhh - don't tell).

*I think I looked silly in my dress at the reception. I love the dress... but when I put it on that morning, I looked like I was concealing a squashed cantaloupe. I mean, who CHOOSES to wear a form-fitting get-up when almost 5 months preggers? Yes, folks. Me.

*Family, family, family. Usually I get sick of too much of them at one time. But it's been too long, so I definitely loved it. And they gushed over Malia, which I approve of, cause she rules.

*Malia pooped a TON on Sunday! (maybe quite literally a ton). HALLELUJAH! We finally had our little angel back after 3 days because of it.
P.S. Prune juice might make your poop turn green. Just sayin'.

*Playing Phase 10 with David's grandparents the last night until way too late. YIKES! But that cheesecake was soooooooo good!

*The majority of any drama occurring over the 4-day chaos was not caused by me! Quite possibly a family first. I'm all growed up.

*The girl at McDonald's in Beaver, UT saying, "You're talking to me like I'm slow or something!" at the drive-thru. We left and decided to go to Wendy's. I think I'll make a call and get her fired, maybe...

*Trying to get Malia to fall asleep in the car as we finished the last stretch of our drive home late last night. The kid was yawning and rubbing her eyes, she was in her PJs, in the dark, snuggling her blankie, but she just kept looking at me with wide eyes and a silly grin. THIS is why I will not share a bed with my children after they are 4 months old. GO TO BED, KID!

Overall - it was a success.... I'm exhausted... but that means it was a success, right?

The Rumor Is...

... we'll be having another girl!

Basically, the technician couldn't find any "boy parts" - and even with a lot of smooshing and pushing, we just couldn't get her to uncross her legs. (wonderful - I'm having another stubborn girl... just what this family needs). But, the technician felt that there were a few times she did see what could almost undeniably make it a girl.

This morning as I was telling my sister we were going in for an anatomy scan today, she asked me what I thought it was. I said I had no idea, that I'd been unintentionally referring to it as a "he," but that my gut said it was a girl. As we drove to our appointment, David said, out-of-the-blue, that he'd been feeling like it was a girl. So, we're pretty much counting on it.

The technician pointed some things out that told her she was a girl, and I could see it, so there you have it! In fact, we're so sure we have no intentions on there being any surprise of it being anything otherwise (i.e. I will be painting the nursery a feminine color next week - no turning back now)!

Of course, there was a tiny part of us hoping for a boy, if only for the sake of "balancing" out our little family. But I did always want a sister for Malia, and now they will be close in age, and that's just awesome, in my opinion.

This time around we even got to record it onto a VHS, which is way cool! We'll have to take it in somewhere and have a DVD made. So, for now, settle for some really awesome pictures. The technician said she was really "photogenic," which basically meant that the fluid levels were good and that she was being cooperative for the most part. 10 fingers & toes. A beautiful heart. A fully developed brain. A healthy spine. We couldn't be happier!

Isn't she pretty?!!

*proud mama*

Shell-shocked

It's amazing how some things in life never really phase us, and how some things blow us over harder then we could've imagined.

Today, as I was browsing through facebook and friends' blogs, I received some terrible news. A friend of mine who I knew at BYU, we'd had some classes in the MDT program together... and we bonded over similar reputations of lunacy... just went through an incredibly traumatizing experience.

We haven't "spoken" in a few years. But through mutual friends, pursuits, and the internet, we've still managed somewhat to stay in touch. She was always a very witty, talented, and spiritual girl. I admired her for her wisdom, her sense of humor, and her testimony. I like to think, maybe, we made each other laugh.

Earlier this week, her only little baby girl, (I don't want to name her or her child... simply out of respect for their current situation), choked on an apple while they were getting her into her carseat after Church. They tried the Heimlich, but were unsuccessful. This angel, only 6 months younger then my Malia, was then life-flighted to Primary Children's Hospital in Salt Lake. There, they removed the bit of apple from her lung with surgery. Problem is, she hadn't been breathing for over 20 minutes.

Over the week, they dealt with the thought that she would most likely be very brain-damaged, if she lived at all. Yesterday, her phenomenal parents - my friend - her mother - had to make the difficult decision to take her off of life support. The little girl, not even 2-years-old, has returned to her Heavenly Father.

I am sharing this story for 2 reasons. The first is selfish. When I heard about this, I was completely thrown. I don't know exactly what it was that did it to me, but I have been nearly inconsolable for quite some time now (thank heavens Malia is napping). I've written my friend a few messages here & there on the internet. But, for some reason, it is tearing me up inside. I felt that, if maybe I blogged about it, I could get some of the "owie" out of my heart.

The second reason, is the more obvious one. Please pray for them. I know I have left her identity unanimous, but I felt that I shouldn't talk about who they were due to the fact that this is a very hard and sacred time for her and her family. But I know the Lord knows who I am talking about, so I still think you can pray for them. Pray for their hearts to be comforted. Pray for their lives to be filled with as much joy as possible... so that the sorrow can't consume them. Pray for their perspectives.

She is a phenomenal woman and is already demonstrating incredible faith against all odds. I don't doubt she will be able to get through this. But I still feel as if any little prayer could definitely help.

I'm going to go retrieve Malia from her nap now... and hold her as tight as possible.

Dr. Tiffany Nutter, PhD. in Sleep

I read at least 1/2 a dozen books on sleep when Malia was little. (Yes, I read every single one of those pictured above.... cover to cover... some of them 3 or 4 times). Book in one hand, screaming baby in the other. Book after book after book, I was trying to find the magic answer to solve all the woes. I finally transferred to an awesome pediatrician (holla, Dr. Brinton!) who said to me, "Your child has severe colic. Probably the worst I've ever seen. Accept that these methods you are reading about will. not. work. for. her." So, it was a relief to know I wasn't just an idiot failing miserably, trying all of these things, and my child getting worse, instead of better. Turns out my kid was the lovely exception to all of the rules.

However, once her colic was miraculously taken care of by an amazing Chiropractor (holla, Dr. Thompson!), she had the most deplorable sleeping habits. The child had gotten used to waking up, literally - not an exaggeration - every 45 minutes to an hour all night long. So, I put my knowledge to work. I combined everything I'd read into what made the most logical sense to me. And, after about 3 months, things finally came to a glorious place (Malia still sleeps the maximum amount of hours for a child her age). I had even become the ward sleep specialist. I had moms coming to me with the sleep problems of their children... admittedly, it would get a little frustrating to hear that my advice had made differences for them overnight, whereas, it had taken me 3 months with my own child. Oh well. *sigh* Glad I could help.

HOWEVER, throughout all of my reading, I gained an incredible insight on sleep in general... not just for my child. Adults really do not truly understand the importance of sleep... especially American adults. It is crucial to our physical, mental, and emotional health. It really is! And I have become almost obsessive about getting my 8 hours of sleep ever since.

Problem is, ever since Malia was born, I've had a terrible time sleeping through the night myself. Even once she began finally doing it consistently, I have since become my worst nightmare: a frequent night-waker.

It sucks!!!!

Ok, so get this... 2 months ago, I slept through the night FOR THE FIRST TIME since Malia was born! She's 2 1/2, mind you. I was so HAPPY! I woke up for the first time since falling asleep, completely shocked that the sun was already up. I felt more tired then usual when I woke up, probably because my mind was thinking, "Yes, YES! More!" I was anticipating a great new change in my sleep patterns. Finally, I'll have the energy I've been lacking. I'll be a much more stable and happy person! Yes! SLEEEEEEP!

3 days later I found out I was pregnant.

I've been up every night since, already, with frequent trips to bathroom.

Some things are just not meant to be...

Introducing....

And THIS time around, we're aiming for no colic and blissful sleep from the get-go! (I can dream, can't I)?

... and anyone who knows me has to know how desperately difficult it's been for me to not say anything until we saw the ultrasound and the baby's heartbeat. I mean... it's been, like, a MONTH & A 1/2!!! That's big for me. This was the coolest thing, too, because we could see the baby so clearly. The machine was really new and the technician was incredibly good at her job. She had to tell me to stop moving a few times because she said the baby was all over the place and I wasn't helping (heh. Genetics). We even watched the little guy/gal do, like, a full-on bronco kick. It was incredible.

It really is miraculous.

A Postive Perspective

On this eve of Mother's Day (ha! Listen to me all trying to wax poetic).... I had some thoughts as I was lying (laying?) next to my daughter at bedtime, while Daddy read "Yertle the Turtle." (sidenote: when Daddy plays Yertle, he sounds a lot like Walter Mathou).

ANYWAY -

I was thinking about how us stay-at-home moms often feel we have to validate our jobs by reminding people of the numerous sacrifices we make, the unglamourous tediousness of it all, and the dozens of shoes we have to fill. We talk about how proud we are to be the mother's of our children... yet, all we can come up with is this lame and pessimistic perspective when defending our place in society.

So, for Mother's Day, I'm going to address all the totally awesome things I experience due to my "sacrifice" of being a stay-at-home. (I quote sacrifice, because, in conjunction with the theme of this blog, I'm approaching it with a positive twist).

BEING A STAY-AT-HOME MOM IS WAY AWESOMER THAN YOUR JOB BECAUSE:

*I'm the boss. I report to no one. Everyone in my house reports to me... well, everyone under 3 feet tall.

*Everything goes where I want it. I am not subject to anyone's organizational standards but my own.

*I don't have to "get ready" for work. I will not be fired because of a lack of work-appropriate attire, make-up, groomed hair.... or showering.

*My lunch break is all the time. I'm hungry? I want to sit down and veg for a minute? Go right ahead.

*Field trips are not only allowed... they're required. And they are often at Disneyland.

*I talk about poop & pee whenever I want and no one shushes me or asks me to watch my behavior.

*I can listen to whatever music I want, whenever I want.

*Running in circles and tickle fights are a daily occurrence.

*Talking to yourself shows brilliance, not insanity.

*I don't have to count on other people to flub on the tasks being done. I do them all myself, which means they get done the way they should.

*I never miss out on the hilarious antics and quotes that Malia produces at an alarmingly productive rate. The kid is pure comedy.

*I get more hugs in one day than any white-collar worker would get in a lifetime... and I usually don't even have to ask.

*When I'm having a bad day and need to cry, I don't have to go hide in a bathroom stall. I just cry. And then Malia asks, "Kiss it better?" And she does. And it works.

*I get to witness the miraculous speed at which a young toddler learns things and absorbs new information. It is truly a miracle.

Ok, so I'm running out of things... not because they don't exist, but because I'm pooped and a little brain dead from all the glorious things I get to do every day. But the most important thing in the whole wide world about my job that I know only Mommies know about:

*I am Malia's most favoritest person in the whole world. And even though I am constantly reminded "that will change," I don't care. Because right now I am. And it RULES!

Joy

My daughter is so many wonderful things. But, more then anyone I've ever met in my entire life, she encapsulates joy. I'm not referring to the joy she gives me, which is boundless and inexplicable. I'm referring to the joy she has within herself. She is pure "take-life-by-the-reins-and-ride" happiness.

Obviously, some of you are thinking, "Well, she's 2. Of course she's happy. She has no worries."

I have to explain to you, as her mother; as someone who spends every waking hour with her; as the one person on this earth who knows her best.... it's more then that. It's the nature of her beyond what I can nurture. It's who her spirit is.

When Malia was screaming 24-7, I had an incredibly inspired bishop once say to me that I needed to know to separate the spirit of my child from her body. She was in pain, and her body wasn't being very nice to her. However, her spirit was desperately fighting to please her parents and make them happy.

Even when she was a tiny bundle of loud wailing and agonizing sobs, I could see it in her eyes; in one of those quiet moments when the post-partum depression and sleep-deprivation were not in control of me. I connected with her, spirit to spirit. And it was as if she said, "I really am a good girl, Mommy. Just give me chance. I have so much to offer you."

And now that she is flourishing and able to really enjoy this life, that's exactly what she does. Enjoys. Completely. Whole-heartedly. No qualms or cares. But it's beyond a sense of being carefree... she is more then just a happy child. I watch other children around her, and while she may be a bit... loud, she overpowers them with her extreme elation. As if she knows a secret that is so yummy and none of us have heard it yet.

In her nature, her God-given nature, she is full of more joy then the average person. I think God sent her to me specifically to teach me to find joy beyond my search for mere happiness.

I now know what it means to have the roles reversed... for child to become teacher.

And I'm trying very hard to learn.

Hug Tag

So, a couple of weeks ago, Malia just started running back & forth between her room, (where Daddy was playing with her) & the office (where Mommy was briefly checking her e-mail). For about 10 minutes, she would come and give me a hug and then she would turn around, yell, "Daddy's turn!" and run to him and hug him. Then she would yell, "Mommy's turn!" and the cycle continued.

I didn't want her to stop doing it in the time it would take for me to get the video camera up & running, so I just grabbed the still camera and got these shots. It's not near as cute as it is in person, but I thought I'd share anyway:

A Malia Update

Usually I try to gather my thoughts into a cohesive dissertation of some sort, but not today, my friends! Why, you ask? (or don't ask.... whatever). Because I have some random and delightful pictures of Malia that are due to be viewed (especially by her grandparents). Thus, in no particular order of importance (i.e. they're just chronological), here she is:


You know? Malia really is such a gentle and sweet spirit. She loves people, puppies, plants... just about everything. But just as I'm about to jump overboard with how often people tell me she looks like her father, she reminds us once again that she's my daughter too... by shouting loud demands at perfect strangers:

We bought Malia a tricycle for her 2nd birthday. She even helped us pick it out. I was so excited for her to have a toy for playing outside and getting good exercise. I even envisioned myself getting some extra physical activity. And our new house is surrounded by a lovely greenbelt with sidewalks. Perfect for such playing! But she rides it like a Flintstone.... feet down, scooting along, ignoring the pedals completely.

This is what happens when I enfringe upon her freedom by trying to get her to use the pedals:

So, Malia has curly hair that is really difficult to manage, because it is also incredibly thick (not surprisingly, considering her genetic make-up). For the past month or so, I've been using a detangler to ease the situation. I noticed it was making her neck a bit red, but nothing too severe. Then, the other day, I used it on her hair when she was naked, and that evening, this is what happened to her legs after they'd been sprayed. So much for "Gentle on Baby."

Malia is wearing her dress that she got from Grandma April for Christmas after their trip to Mexico. And, yes. This is the EXACT face she makes EVERY time I tell her to "smile." And she is LITERALLY saying "cheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese!"

THIS shirt (below) came from Grandma Winkel (my mother). I took a picture of the shirt only because I wondered to myself if there was an element of brainwash in my family. I mean, does it really make Malia happy? Or is it something I will be forcing upon her with hours of tedious practice and lessons on weekends? I think the shirt would be more appropriate if it said, "Music WILL make me happy.... eventually.... or ELSE!"

Toddlers and colds

You would think the world is ending. Malia has tripped, bumped, bonked, and bruised almost all of her extremities, and it nearly never phases her. But give her the common cold... and LOOK OUT!

I don't know what it is, but at this age, it seems as if she gets sick at least once a month. Every time we overcome one and finally feel as if we are being settled back into normalcy again, a new one hits. And they always come back with a vengence.

Malia has a great sleep schedule. I mean, she OUGHT to. I only read through 10 books, went to a sleep specialist, survived colic, and worked my tail off to get her to that place. However, every time she gets a stuffy nose, we're doomed to night wakings. A couple days ago, Malia tripped and hit her head pretty hard. I mean, I heard it. I heard the sound of a head hitting the concrete. I picked her up and asked her if she was ok (I was convinced there'd be blood... there wasn't). She frowned a little, touched her head and said, "Bump da' head. Kiss it better?" So, I did, and she skipped off on her merry way. However, this morning, she has a little bit of snot trickling out of her nose and she is in pure MISERY. Where are these blasted viruses coming from?!

I blame nursery.

Ok... maybe that's a bit harsh. But where else is she getting the darn things?! I read something yesterday about how the firstborn in a lot of families are more prone to asthma and allergies because their immune systems are weaker and because parents are often overprotective of the first. Children who come along later apparently develop some sort of awesome immunities because they caught everything their older brother or sister brought home, when they were really young.

I've inspired myself. I'm going to take Malia on a walk.

... maybe let her eat some dirt or lick a sidewalk...

God Cherishes the Stay-at-home Mom

I've been pondering this a lot lately; especially since we've been living in California for over a year now, and it's so fiercely expensive. I may offend people, but I don't care anymore.

It is pure evidence that Satan wants to attack the family unit more then anything when mothers are no longer staying home. I am not commenting on the people who need 2 incomes in order to survive. I am more then empathetic to that situation. It's those who say, "Well, we couldn't afford our home if I didn't work," and they live in a 3,000 sq. foot home with a pool and a 3-car-garage! MOVE! Is it really more crucial to have a better home then the Jones' then it is for your children to be loved more then the Jones' kids?!

Anyone who knows me is more then aware of my desire to be out in the work force, whether it be performing or teaching. I feel as if I am a fairly creative person who, when given the outlet, explodes with enthusiasm to explore it. People who are close to me have heard over and over again how close I was to getting my dream job when we first moved here to CA. It was LITERALLY my dream job. And it paid well. And I could have stayed home with Malia during the day and then traded shifts with David as I worked nights. But as I thought about it, I imagined our daughter remembering her early years without ever seeing Mommy and Daddy at the same time. Not to mention the fact that it wouldn't allow for the possibilty of more children for a long time. So, I turned my back on the opportunity. And for a while, I was bitter. I felt like I had made an incredible sacrifice and I questioned it for a long time.

A few months ago, I pursued my dreams again. This time, instead of being offered the opportunity, I was flat-out rejected. I was concerned with how I would take it if that were to happen. I don't handle rejection well when it comes to my talents because, for the most part, I am rarely rejected. This rejection brought me an overwhelming feeling of relief. The moment they said "thank you" and I turned to walk to the car and head home, I was overcome with a calm, peaceful feeling. Something inside me said, "What are you doing? You HAVE a job. And it's the most rewarding and fulfilling job you will ever do. Sure it's hard. Sure it's humbling. Sure, it's pretty much the most unglamourous job a woman could have. But it's amazing and so worth it. And very few people realize this. How sad for them." As I held Malia that night before putting her to bed, I sobbed. But it was a happy cry.

All of my life, I wanted to be a star. I assumed I would be a mother, but that thought was put on the backburner because singing on Broadway consumed my thoughts constantly.

Motherhood came instead.

I have been given many opportunities to pursue the Broadway Dream and have called it a "sacrifice" when I turn it down. But it's not a sacrifice, because I got the better end of the deal.

So many smart, beautiful, gifted women are wasting their smarts, beauty, and talents on the rest of the world while their children do not get to reap the benefits of their strengths. They get the "I'm too tired. I've had a long day" Mommy instead. Dr. Laura says that Daycare will not love your children. They will take care of them. They will feed them and give them naps, sure. But they will not love them. If a mother thinks nothing of sending her children to daycare so that they can afford to have the best hybrid SUV money can buy, then they do not think their child deserves love. And that is not the case with any child. They all deserve to be loved.

It's important to remember that our children were first God's children. So, in truth, they are not really ours. They are His. They are on loan. And we are in agreement with Him to not only return them in one piece, but to do all the things necessary to return them at all. That requires that we love them and teach them about Him. And no nanny, babysitter, or daycare can really do that. Only a Mommy can truly help a child learn about their Heavenly Father.

But what irritates me the most is when people ask what I do for a living, and when I say "stay-at-home mom," they dismiss me. DON'T DISMISS ME! What I do is more important then any amount of lawyering or fashion designing or managing that you will EVER do. I may not be getting paid for it in salary, but the giggles, hugs, and "I love you"s I get on a daily basis are worth more then anything you could imagine.

What I do matters. Don't you DARE make me feel otherwise. There are not enough of us in this world anymore. If my family has to eat peanut butter and saltines for 10 years just so that I can be home with my children, so be it. You can drive your fancy cars, live in your big houses, and look down your perfect plastic noses at me all you want. But that just makes you ignorant. You are not worth enough of my time for me to help you realize I am much wealthier then you will ever be!

Malia's Milestones

Our little girl is amazing us every day! We're especially proud when perfect strangers stop us on the street to point out her beautiful eyes or her curly hair. Older women especially love her, commenting that she is just like "a little doll." Admittedly, we're proud... probably to a fault... but we just can't help ourselves. She is accomplishing so many things!

Some of her many, many words are:

"Mommy" & "Daddy"
"eese" = please
"doo doot" = thank you
"side" = slide
"gaykie" = blankie
"nah nite" = good night
"skak" = snack
"geenk" = drink
"puppy"
"sky"
"fries"
"ba-gah" = Grandma
"Sa-sehs" = Jesus & glasses
"buck" = truck
"cars"
"eat"
"no"
"yes"
"shash" = bath
"Lala" = water
& any word she can imitate, without knowing what it means

She also knows the names of some of her favorite toys/characters:

"Gickee" - Mickey
"Pooh"
"Buzz" (Lightyear)
"Dowa" = Dora
"Fee-fee" = Goofy
"Ga-Guck" = Donald Duck
"Ninnee" = Minnie
"E-yoh" - Eyore
etc.

She knows the animal noises for a cow, pig, dog, cat, monkey, bear/lion, horse, duck, sheep... and our personal favorite, is the elephant (we make her do it for strangers... "dance, Monkey, dance!") She can also basically read the book "Moo, Baa, La La La" entirely on her own (she has it memorized). It's pretty adorable. She also can point out and correctly name the majority of her external body parts. Our favorite is when she smacks her backside and says, "bum."

She knows the difference between letters and numbers. Although almost ALL letters are "B" and ALL numbers are "3"s. However, she can point out and name the letters "O" & "Y." WHen I wear my BYU shirt, she points to the letters (correctly) over and over "B. Y. B. Y." And when she counts, she points to items after lining them up and says :"2, 3, 2, 3, etc."

She likes to dance to music and she likes to sing with Mommy when I belt or when we sing in Church. She folds her arms for prayers and ends them with an entusiastic "A-MET!" (she ends a lot of words with the letter "T"). She loves nursery at Church and Sister Tawny tells us every week that she's incredibly well-behaved and never fusses.... unless an aggressive child pushes her down.

There are so many things she can do and we're constantly amazed at the things she learns, especially the things she picks up that we don't teach her. She definitely is a sponge. And children are a wonderful way to learn to censor yourself.

She is an amazing little spirit and gift from God and we thank the Lord every day for our little angel... especially our "post-colic" angel. People comment on how obedient she is and she actually sleeps more then the maximum average amount of hours for a child her age! Noone believes me when I tell them she screamed for 6 months. And I wouldn't have it any other way.