Photo Overload

Doug and I finally entered the 21st century two months ago when our extremely old phones finally died (in the tech world, five years is ancient). We can text! We can upload pictures to Facebook! And I do! So much so, that I forget to update our little family journal here. We've been a house of sickies for about 2.5 months straight, so not much has happened, but a little. However. There are a bazillion Instagram photos. So brace yourselves for the onslaught. Ready?

My awesome Dad took me on a daddy-daughter date to see Wicked. It was only the best Broadway I've seen, and I've seen a few good ones... I loved it so much! And we had a great time hanging out.

Our family colored Easter eggs and it was the first year the kids were old enough to be creative with them. They used crayon, dyed the eggs ombre style, and applied pieces of tape which they removed after dyeing to create effects.

Then we went to my Dad's for dinner and the Easter egg hunt.


Papa Scott givin' the rundown.


Cousins are the best!


Miss Evany at the bus stop with her lovely caramel colored hair and those gorgeous lashes.

While reading Bringing Up Bébé I was reminded of something I learned in French class: that children begin cooking in the kitchen at very young ages. One of the first things they learn to make is Gateau au Yaourt (Yogurt Cake). It is a very simple mixture and uses the yogurt tub to measure ingredients. Being a very simple base recipe, it's also easy to create custom versions. Here, Sterling is using a pomegranate yogurt to flavor the cake.

It was delicious.

My cute friend Rachel (center) had a birthday. All of us ladies went to the Cheesecake Factory. We laughed so much that our cheeks hurt and we had tears. Our ever-dwindling group of ladies is such a rare commodity. Such genuine camaraderie among so many ladies does not happen often. It is truly a gift.

On the nice days we've done a bit of work outside. Here's The Chubbs hanging out in his pack n play, discovering the sky and outside noises. He's such a doll baby.

Evany's Gateau au Yaourt was a Mango yogurt variation and we added some coconut. It too was delicious.

Doug's car that he's had since we were dating 14 years ago died last month so I've been commuting him around a bit. One day it was a doctor's appt across town in N. Portland, so the babies and I jaunted up the road to the Whole Foods to pick up some herbs and check out the pastry counter. The kids were enamored of this window display. We have a Whole Foods out here 2 miles away, but ironically, this one on Alberta is the only one I've ever been to- 13 years ago when we were living over there, and again two weeks ago.

Speaking of creams puffs...

Elam has been so stoic lately. I don't know what's up. Maybe it's a phase. Maybe it's just his little personality to be très sérieux. He still lights up and smiles for mama, so it's fine by me.
This one I call, Elam: Introspective. His copper curls and grey eyes just kill me.

My brother Cassidy and his girlfriend Erica came to visit. Don't be alarmed; the dog is not his girlfriend. That's Hyphy, the little mischief maker.

Hylton adores his uncles.

We went to the Farmer's Market on opening day. They have a little booth there with a gazillion varieties of tomato starts to choose from. I like to pick one or two unique varieties to try every year. And you can't leave the market without getting some of the fresh powdered doughnuts that literally melt on contact with your mouth.

Mon petite passed out halfway through. If I was that cozy, being wheeled around the market, I'd probably go to sleep too.

When we got home, we began hand-scraping the weeds out of a large portion of the old garden area to prepare for the play structure we bought from another family on Craigslist.

Hylton was helping with his Tonkas.

One of my many trips to pick Doug up from work. This time, we got there too early, so I let the kids get out to play in the courtyard. They had strict instructions to not run or get wet. ...Yeah...

Evie and I met a peacock on our way to DEQ the other morning. He crossed the street, crying. Evie thought he sounded funny. We could still hear him as we sat in the never-ending line.

Sterling climbing the walls. Literally. And one of the knights who say "ni" taunting him from below.

Daddy bonding time.


Lastly, Michelle, my dearest friend of 10 years, moved away two weeks ago. Why does 8 hours feel like the ends of the earth? There were several going-away parties in her honor: a beautiful tea luncheon (below), a movie/happy hour girls night out, and Rachel's birthday dinner was a combination of both due to timing.

Still sort of hoping she'll change her mind and move back...

Ma Charmante Mère

A couple of weeks ago, I suddenly found myself thinking about a journal entry I made long ago in grade-school. I searched through the various old school journals my teachers had had us write in to hone our expository skills until I found it. The assignment was to write about where we imagined ourselves in 20 years. Ironically, I thought of it again 20 years and 2 months later. It is a two-page spread, naturally.


It says: "In 20 years, I will be 31 years old, the same age that my mom is now. I think that I will look like my mom, have a husband and four kids. I will have a job either as a lawyer or a teacher. I will be out of BYU. And living in a beautiful log cabin in Sequim, Washington with a Siamese cat, and a Huskie dog. I'll live on a hill over looking the small town, with a beautiful back yard. And trees all around our house."

It feels rather personal to post this on my blog, but I think also it is a great way to honor my mom. You see, today is her birthday. She turns 52. And while this might be my journal entry, it's really about her.

My whole family is pretty competitive, whether we openly admit it or not. My brother cheats at cards, my sister plays dirty, I contrive, and my other brother reveals nothing. It's all in fun, of course; nothing sinister.  But we're all very sure that our sole person is my mother's favorite. And she's good like that; we all believe it. But the truth is we're all her favorites. And isn't that the hallmark of a good mom?

My point is, that I grew up thinking I was mom's favorite. There were very little barriers between us. I grew up telling her everything. She was my best friend; sometimes my only friend. At times, she confided equally in me. That's just the way we are. Kindred spirits. Different, but so very much the same.



I can remember the adoration I had of her as a child. I was proud she was my mom. My childhood friends used to say how cool she was, and how pretty, and that I was so lucky. And I knew it. She's pretty awesome. There is nothing, nothing, nothing she can't do. She fixes cars, and washing machines, and pours concrete, she gardens, cans food, sews, crochets, builds things, remodels, fishes, camps, cooks, works, and loves us. She didn't go to college, but she's smart as a whip! She'd do anything asked of her by someone she loves. She's playful and funny and independent and strong and beautiful.

Things haven't changed much with the passing of time. I still confide in her. She understands me. She talks reason to me. She comforts me. She loves me.

The day I wrote this journal entry, I wanted to be just like my mom because I loved her and admired her. It humbles me as I reflect on the kind of mom I am for my kids. Of course I want them to have their own dreams, but a part of me wants to know that they feel loved enough by me to inspire the same kind of devotion. Do I offer the same safe-haven? The same non-judgmental repository? The same unconditional love? Do they know they too can do anything? be anything? Do they know I love them all, each one, fiercely  with my whole being? I hope.

Mother, you charming soul, my sister spirit- I love you always. Happy Birthday.

Elam

Little one finally found his thumb! Now, we just need to figure out which lovey he wants and he can join the rest of the kiddos.



Large Bowl (tub) + Layers of Angel Food Cake (baby fat rolls) + Strawberry Topping (red hair, duh) + a dollop of Whipped Cream on top (shampoo foam) = Strawberry Shortcake (Elam. Also = delicious).



I am just so giddy that he is putting himself to sleep AND in his own crib that I can't stop taking pictures while he's sleeping. It's the best.



I love my other kids. I really do. I should definitely take more photos of them next time...

Tying Up Loose Ends

Sterling was our first baby, and therefore, our guinea pig baby. We had very little idea of what to do with the red, crying mass of cells that wouldn't sleep. We held him through naps, and co-slept, and sang, and bounced, and rocked, and swayed our way through five miserable months until he began night-waking EVERY 30 MINUTES. In desperation, we devoured sleep-help books and ultimately put him in his crib one night and listened for 3 painful hours while he cried himself into exhaustion and finally gave up the fight. By night three, he cried 15 minutes and slept through the night, but we swore we would never repeat the process that had brought us the brink of insanity.

Fast-forward 7 years, and three children later, and we have Church Baby Sleep Nightmare: Redux. Elam has been sleeping wedged up next to me for the last five months. We have held him for naps. We have tried cautiously putting him in his crib, only to have him awaken immediately or 20 minutes later and not want to go back to sleep. This kind of fragmented sleep is bad for all of us, but especially his little developing brain.

How did we end up here... again? I think it was pity. The poor little baby would wake screaming with tummy pain for the first few weeks and we had no idea why until I cut out dairy, and tomatoes, and anything more than bland. But even then, it wasn't a perfect fix, and by then the natural sleep patterns were disturbed and he had gotten used to the co-sleeping arrangement. We tried a couple of times to allow him to fall asleep on his own, but all we ended up with was a distraught baby and a wreck of a mother. Lately, he'd been waking me up every two hours at night to eat and in-between from his restlessness. Not one night-full of sleep in five months. And I need my sleep.

Three nights ago, we put him in his crib for the night at 8pm, much earlier than his usual bedtime with us, and he cried for a little while and fell asleep and did pretty well most of the night. The last couple of nights, he's waken to cry and I've either fed him or let him fall back asleep on his own (read: crying). Last night, he went to sleep at 7pm (target bedtime) and woke once for his middle-of-the-night feeding (where he flirted with me in the dark with wide-eyes and then quietly fell back asleep in his crib), and then I had to wake him at 7am this morning. It was GLORIOUS! Hallelujah! He even did well for naps yesterday. In fact, I felt bad making him learn so much at once, so I tried to rock him to sleep as usual two days ago and he wanted nothing to do with it! That's when I knew we were golden. Two mornings ago he woke up on his own at 9am, and laid happily in his crib until I came in to get him. It's AMAZING what a good chunk of sleep can do! ...Poor sleep deprived baby...

This was before sleep training. He had to be clutching me.

Now he thinks he's all big or something since he can sleep on his own and got upgraded to a big-boy car seat and got to sit with us at the dinner table last night in his high chair. He's rolling all over the floor to get things he wants. Evie usually sounds the alarm when he's getting out of bounds and I run back into the living room to plop him back onto his blanket, or at least somewhere he's not going to knock himself unconscious.

But look at his cute little baby face! I'm in love, I'm in love, and I don't care who knows it! (Yes, I quote Elf. Don't judge.)




Little Miss cracked us up yesterday when she called Hylton: Hylt, lylt, the shylt, wylt. She just busted it out of nowhere. I told Doug he must have genetically passed on his street talk to her. I swear the man is black and just doesn't know it.



We had a nice day last week when Doug was home and we were in-between illnesses, so we went for a ride in the park. The vitamin D felt great! We're seriously considering a relocation to a drier climate. I still love how green Oregon is, and I used to love the rain until I had kids... or maybe until I got older... but it can just be miserable sometimes! (Or should we say 9 months out of the year??)



I would miss the Trilliums, though, and the rainforests and the beach... sigh...



Whoa! Hottie alert!





Sterling has been dragging his feet when it comes to tying shoes (did you catch that?). He just really hasn't cared, until suddenly he did. He felt embarrassed that the other kids at school could tie their laces and he couldn't. Whatever motivates him, right? It took surprisingly little time, despite the tears of frustration in-process. Within a half an hour he learned my super-tricksy way of tying shoes that I learned from my sister who learned it from a swim-buddy in school. ...It's on the down-low. 'Cause that's how we roll. Yo.
It was so great to see his confidence soar once he figured it out. And I love, love, love that even though he wanted to give up, he didn't. And that is a very valuable life lesson! Do, or do not, there is no try. (Yeah, I quote Yoda too. What?)

My Loveys

There is absolutely nothing I love more than being a mom. Life is good. The End.

White River West

Last weekend, we went tubing at Mt. Hood. It was the first time for the kids, and the first time Doug and I had been on the mountain in the snow since before we had Sterling. Yeah, we don't get out much anymore. My parents brought the cousins up with them, so my kids were thrilled to see them and play in the snow together.

There is a whole lot of pink goin' on here!

Sterling and Jared took turns pulling eachother up the trail we had to hike to find a good hill.

Novie got the better of two grown men in this snowball fight.

Papa showin' Hylti the ropes when it comes to a good snowball (to throw at Daddy, of course).


We finally caught up to the Rowes who had been there playing for a while, despite us all leaving town at the same time. Lots of kids+long car ride+hungry baby= mind numbingly slow progress. Most of us camped out at the bottom of the hill and watched as the others went up and down.

Baby fell asleep off and on while being carried in the back carrier, but mostly I just sat in an innertube and held him while he slept. He didn't much care for the wind in his face, but he was such a little trooper and was very good.

The pile of snow to the left is actually Larry's dog Remi. I had to look at this for quite some time to figure out what it was.


Proper snow for a proper snow angel!


Doug and Larry played just as hard as any of the kids.


It was almost time to go and I still hadn't been down the hill, which was fine with me, but Doug pressured me into going. I'm not much of a thrill seeker. At all. I always picture how things will go wrong. In this case, the image of me hitting a bump, catching air off the tube and flying face-first into a rock-hard snowbank, thereby rendering me a quadriplegic for the rest of my life was forefront in my mind. Doug finally guilted me into it by playing on my motherly sensitivities. Evie wanted another ride before we left. So we went. And I contemplated my own death the whole way down.

Okay, maybe that's a little dramatic, but let's just say it's not really my favorite thing.

Note about the movie: The first clip is Doug trying to take a picture of himself and the baby, but he has the camera turned on and doesn't realize that the baby is silent-screaming.

Then Doug threatens to kick us down the mountain if I don't go.

Then Doug comes back to Sterling who goes down the hill, losing his sled, Jared comes down right after him (almost hitting him) and carries the sled with him, and then someone else comes flying down and almost hits Sterling again, and carries the sled even further.

Unfortunately, when Doug panned back to Sterling, he totally missed Larry taking the dog on the tube down the hill. The dog did not care for the ride, so he jumped off and Larry ran over him with the tube. I'm pretty sure Remi will never get on another innertube again.

The sun began to go down, so we went back to the parking lot. And since Larry does nothing unless he can go big, he had the generator set up and they cooked hot dogs and chili and hot chocolate.

Mr. Attitude.

And here's a couple more pictures of the fatty grub, for good measure:

My little copper haired, red eyed vampire baby sitting in his new Bumbo. Aunt Shell found it for him at the Goodwill for $3!

Yes, those cheeks are as soft and delicious as they appear on film.