Mother's Day on Saturday

On Saturday our family had a rare treat: a Daddy for a whole day! The girls couldn't have been happier. They got to:

1. Eat doughnuts for breakfast!
2. Play at the park... with Daddy pushing the swing, instead of Mommy with her weak muscles.
3. Hike Y Mountain... and eat more doughnuts at the top.
4. Watch a movie.
5. And go to a "ball" at the local stake house.


By the time we packed and got to the mountain... M had fallen asleep.

So had GQ.

All us girls at the base of the mountain.

E's favorite part of the trip was when a ladybug flew along and landed right on her. I think this is probably because we were walking so slow the ladybug thought we were scenery.

She was a little concerned that it was orange instead of red.

At the top of the mountain the girls sat and put rocks in an empty water bottle. M was so entranced that Justin had to tell her I'd found her a bug for her to even remotely look at me for a picture. Once she saw I had no bug, she went back to what she was doing.

She also asked if she could have the food another family had brought instead of ours. They had strawberries and M LOVES strawberries.

"Mommy, I want that food!"

GQ and Daddy. I carried GQ up in the sling, so it was nice to have a break. Both of the girls walked all by themselves without being carried. They didn't even whine.

So, I suppose the apple did fall far from the Jamie tree. Just ask Uncle Mark.

GQ wanted to eat rocks.

The girls really enjoyed each other on the trip... which was great considering the usual bickering.

E insists on growing up. Come on. Really?

Hanging out in his sling.

A stop along the way.

Hiking with Daddy.

We had a great time. I'd never gone before because someone told me my freshman year that I "had" too, and I have this thing with people telling me I "have" to do something. Anyway, I finally decided to go since we're leaving the valley soon. Justin was quick to jump at the chance. It was a great day, and only got better than night when E insisted on wearing her red flamenco dress-up to the ward party.

Didn't have a problem finding her in the crowd.

I wish we had video of THAT... but I didn't think we'd need it.

Seeing E at moments like that makes me think she'd really love a beauty pageant: dressing up, talking, doing a dance, having people clap for you.

Heaven forbid she ever finds out about one of those!

The Boy in the Green Pajamas

This story actually began on Tuesday.

Or Monday.

Or last year.

But mostly on Tuesday.

You see, on Tuesday, Justin and I had some interviews at the Stake Center. When I went to get dressed, I found an empty closet. (All my clothes were in the laundry basket downstairs. I'd put them there after pulling them out of the dryer, and was allowing them to fester in wrinkles for fun and sport.) Anyway, I ended up wearing: opaque black tights (my other nylons had a run in them), a black skirt, and a grey and purple sweater. Styling, I tell you what. Over the top, I wore my blue coat in an effort to cover it all up.

By the way, this is one of the few times this week that it has not been Winter in Orem. So, I was hot.

Sitting at the Stake Center, I was told that they needed to take a picture of my family.

While Justin, E, and GQ were dressed normally, M and I were not. She was sporting some "leggings" under her dress. These were sparkly white with lace on the edges and had been stolen from the dress-up box. (They are supposed to be princess gloves - though they have no hands.. myself I've never understood that).

By the time I was interviewed, I was so flustered (GQ had needed his diaper changed, and had left with Justin, and I was being interviewed with E and M in tow) that I couldn't stop blinking. This made it seem as though I answered every question with a full-out lie. And, that I was a horrible liar.

Great.

So, on Wednesday when it was time to get ready for a family wedding I was in the mood not to look like an idiot.

The best laid plans of mice and men....

First, I gave the girls a bath. Then, I dressed them in regular clothes and packed their dresses. Since it was nice and sunny outside, I picked two of their summer dresses. We were going to Grandma's first, so I didn't want them to get dirty.

Oh, I was planning ahead.

GQ, on the other hand, does not play outside, so I dressed him in his semi-nice overalls and a collared shirt. I even "did" his hair. Done. Check. Double Check.

Then, I got dressed. I actually did my hair. I actually picked something cute. I actually shaved my legs. Wow.

Then, we went to Salt Lake and visited.

Grandma had bought a new high-chair for GQ, so we put him in the eat and fed him. In true infant fashion, he used the moment to complete some of his own business. So, after a while, I took him out to change his diaper.

But first, in an effort to save my mom some vacuuming time, I held him and shook him over the garbage can.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

Yes, this is important.

Then, I discovered poop running down his leg.

On his clothes.

On his shoes.

And then, I noticed it on my dress and leggings too.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

Just where I'd shook him.

This, of course, meant that the only two individuals without a change of clothes, were now covered in poop.

Lovely.

It was about an hour until we should leave for the wedding, and I was an hour away from my house.

So, GQ was cleaned and smartly dressed in:

his green froggy pajamas.

And I got to check out Olivia's closet, which is actually much more exciting than mine.

I think my favorite part was how no one at the party dared to ask why I had brought GQ in green froggy pajamas.

Or why my shirt had pink pom poms on the front.

Useless

Actually, this picture is fuzzy.

And actually, I realized it's from before his haircut.

Oh, well.

I'm sure I'll take another picture sometime soon.

But, for now:

... take that.

Haircut

On Sunday morning, I got an itch to cut GQ's hair.

Now, it's true that GQ doesn't have much hair, that is if you're talking about volume. And certainly his hair has no color to it... kind of an invisible brown blonde type of thing. I suppose it has slightly red glints in extreme light - but those may be a complete trick of the eye. Anyway, the hairs he does have, regardless of amount or color, were getting long.

They dragged in his eyes - all two strands - and hung on his ears.

So, I decided to cut it.

And if you think I'm paying someone else to cut his hair over the next six years instead of doing something much more useful like buying myself lunch, you should kid yourself no longer. If he has any hope as a seven-year-old, I've got to start practicing now.


We got in the bathtub for the experiment since it is apparently STILL winter in Utah, and we could not go outside. This was slightly problematic since all GQ had to do was look down to keep me from making the cuts. I will spare you the pictures of myself in all my morning glory.

M was obviously skeptical about the affair. I have actually never cut her hair. I have only cut E's once. I also got E's cut once for free with a coupon. I have been planning to "trim" E's hair - she won't let me cut it - and cut off M's baby mullet for sometime but.... it is STILL winter in Utah.

As for the end result:

If you ask Justin, I cut it too short in the back. And it's true, we did have to use the razor to do some cleaning up back there. So, next time I won't go quite so short there. The front and top looks good though. I'll post a picture of it above... I don't want to mess up all the spacing in this post and I'm still to lazy to follow Anna's advice and download Moxilla.

GQ seems fine about his hair. He does rub his neck on the floor often... kind of like a dog who has had it's hair cut.

Congratulations

This is the only picture I have of my sister. It is from my wedding. You see, we don't take pictures in my family. Anyway, under danger of death, I am posting this picture because today my sister is officially finished with her Master's program.

Wow.

That is an achievement.



So, congratulations. And I promise not to post any more pictures of you from six years ago ever again.

Once Upon A Time, May 1st Was Warm

The first year we were married, we learned not to fight over whether or not it was good to clean the house with Windex.

The second year we were married, we promised to recite over and over the mantra: "Never buy a dog, never buy a dog, never buy a dog."

The third year we were married, we discovered who was really in charge. Just in case you were wondering, it starts with an E and ends with llie.

The fourth year we were married, a red-headed snippet arrived to give E a run for her money.

The fifth year we were married, we apparently learned nothing, since I can't think of anything clever at this point.

And the sixth year we were married, we got a GQ to squirm about the house.

I'm glad it was sunny then. It's been a fun six years. For the next six we'll be discovering Iowa.

*******

As an aside: look how cute these two were. Now, they're all grown up.

Actual Pictures

E and her cousin Annie had another performance together this year. This year they were Crows in The Wizard of Oz.

Don't get Libbi started on the costumes.

Siblings

Before M was born, I went to the store to buy her a blanket. It was pretty much the only thing I bought her. Everything else she would inherit from E. I looked and looked for the perfect blanket. It needed to be the right kind of soft. It needed to be different from E's pink blanket. It needed to be something she could drag around with her until I insisted it was disgusting and "lost" it.

I picked a magenta minkie blanket with silky edges.

I hung it on her crib and waited for her to love it.

Of course, M only ever touched that blanket when she was an infant and had no decision-making power of her own. Since then it has languished in the linen closet (along with the red blanket I made for E before she was born).

Instead, M waited until she was almost a year old to attach herself to a yellow receiving blanket my mother had acquired from who knows where. This blanket has old paint stains on it (hopefully not lead based) and ugly patterns of strange looking giraffes.

It is the only blanket M likes.

So, when I became pregnant with GQ, I contained myself and bought no blankets.

Instead, we wrapped him in boy-colored blankets from Emily and sometimes used pink ones when those were dirty. Now that he is no longer bundled at night, I try to give him one soft blanket in his bed, usually a white or green one (purchased as replacements for E's blanket. I couldn't find pink and thought she wouldn't mind... ha ha).

Just recently, GQ picked the blanket he liked most.

It is dusty pink and worn around the edges.

He will cross the room to get it, and then roll around in it until it is wrapped around his little body.

He loves it the way M loves her yellow blankie.

He loves it the way E loves her pink blankie.

In fact, his love is just a little too similar to E's.

Because, you see, GQ has chosen E's pink blanket as his favorite.

As you can guess, this is somewhat problematic.

E is NOT a fan of this development.

When GQ gets her blanket she screams at high levels in high pitches and has mini fits.

I think GQ will have to reconsider.

*****

Yesterday in the car:

E: Before M was born it was just me and you guys, and we went on lots of fun trips.
Dad: Yes, but don't you like it better with M?
E: Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Dad: Never mind.
Mom: I know you like it better with M because you are always happy when she wakes up from her nap. You are excited to play with her.
E: Yes, I like her. And she doesn't hit me as much anymore.