We found out last week that our second little one is going to be a girl. I'm not going to lie, I am absolutley ecstatic. I am so excited to be having a girl. My little princess. Yay!
Friday, June 8, 2007
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Friday, May 4, 2007
I realized today that I never posted the pictures that we used to announce that we are pregnant. It is probably because we e-mailed them to most of the people that check this blog, but I still want to share these adorable pictures. He's showing mixed emotions about his news . . .
PROUD
ANGRY
WORRIED
HAPPY
PROUD
ANGRY
WORRIED
HAPPY
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Brandon and I just put a house under contract. It was a long and stressful process. He lost 5 pounds and I didn't gain any (quite the accomplishment, since I am 12 weeks pregnant). We are relieved to know where we will be living come June, and even more relieved to find that we know that we can afford it! We were so worried about finding something worth living in, in our price rance. Let me tell you, this is most certainly worth living in! We love it!
I thought I would post some pictures. I am long overdue with my pictures of William, also. If there is anyone is this world that actually reads my blog, I'm sorry. If not, I guess I am just wasting my guilt and should transfer it to something more worthwhile, like the fact that William gets Dino Buddies for dinner way more than he should. Anyway, I here are some pictures of the house AND William, in order to appease any readers, or at least myself.
An article from Anna Quindlen, Newsweek Columnist and Author:
All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.
Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, have all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations --what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.
Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2. When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China . Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.
Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. T hey have all been enshrined in the, "Remember-When- Mom-Did Hall of Fame." The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, "What did you get wrong?". (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?
But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less. Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done.
Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.
Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, have all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations --what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.
Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2. When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China . Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.
Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. T hey have all been enshrined in the, "Remember-When- Mom-Did Hall of Fame." The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, "What did you get wrong?". (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?
But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less. Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done.
Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
Friday, February 2, 2007
Brandon and I are fast and furiously (OK maybe not fast, but at least furiously) trying to sift threw and edit all 600 pictures we took during the month of December. Yes, we took 600 pictures. Before you think we are too crazy, alot of them are repeats. You know how it is with a 1 year old. Take 600 pictures so that you can get like 2 where he is actually looking at the camera. Anyway, once we have gone through them I will actually be able to post some of William's first Christmas and his first birthday. In the meantime, I thought I had better at least verbally update my blog.
Brandon started work about four weeks ago. Just like any new job, it has taken about that long for him to get settled and actually start working. We are so thrilled to be starting his career. The 55 mile commute is tough, but only temporary.
School has been great for me. I am so grateful to be able to finish this school year. I was torn apart when I thought that I would have to quit this past December. Of course, some days, May seems a very long ways away. What keeps me going is knowing that there is definitely a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow! Brandon and I will be able to buy our first house. I can't even tell you how much I look forward to that.
And then there's William . . . dear, sweet, adorable William. I am amazed as my love grows each day. A mother's love is such a precious gift. One I feel so blessed to be given. When I look at my son I know that my Heavenly Father loves me. He is here for me as much as I am here for him. I know that it is my calling to teach William, but I often wonder who is going to teach who more. I have already learned so much in the past year. William has made me a better person and I know that he will continue to do just that.
I am getting sentimental and I am at work. I had better stop before anyone walks in my classroom and sees me crying. Until we meet again . . . hopefully with pictures!
Brandon started work about four weeks ago. Just like any new job, it has taken about that long for him to get settled and actually start working. We are so thrilled to be starting his career. The 55 mile commute is tough, but only temporary.
School has been great for me. I am so grateful to be able to finish this school year. I was torn apart when I thought that I would have to quit this past December. Of course, some days, May seems a very long ways away. What keeps me going is knowing that there is definitely a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow! Brandon and I will be able to buy our first house. I can't even tell you how much I look forward to that.
And then there's William . . . dear, sweet, adorable William. I am amazed as my love grows each day. A mother's love is such a precious gift. One I feel so blessed to be given. When I look at my son I know that my Heavenly Father loves me. He is here for me as much as I am here for him. I know that it is my calling to teach William, but I often wonder who is going to teach who more. I have already learned so much in the past year. William has made me a better person and I know that he will continue to do just that.
I am getting sentimental and I am at work. I had better stop before anyone walks in my classroom and sees me crying. Until we meet again . . . hopefully with pictures!
Monday, January 1, 2007
It is 12:30am, January 1, 2007. Another year has come and gone and I can't believe it! Brandon's grandma says, "Life is like a roll of toilet paper, the closer you get to the end, the faster it goes." Isn't that so true?
Although fast, this has certainly been a wonderful year. Brandon and I have been able to watch our little boy as he has gone from a tiny newborn to an energetic toddler. Well, he isn't quite toddling, but he is getting there. Heaven help us when he does!
We celebrated William's birthday yesterday. Is was a great birthday for him because we were at Disneyland. Brandon loves to refer to William as a "child of amazement" and yesterday he certainly did not disappoint. He spent the whole day with big eyes and an open mouth. All the lights and sounds and moving objects kept him amazed all day. My favorite ride with him was probably "It's a Small World." His didn't know which way to look because there was so much to look at. He would look right and then left, up and then down, forward and backward. He absolutely loved "the happiest place on earth!"
Although fast, this has certainly been a wonderful year. Brandon and I have been able to watch our little boy as he has gone from a tiny newborn to an energetic toddler. Well, he isn't quite toddling, but he is getting there. Heaven help us when he does!
We celebrated William's birthday yesterday. Is was a great birthday for him because we were at Disneyland. Brandon loves to refer to William as a "child of amazement" and yesterday he certainly did not disappoint. He spent the whole day with big eyes and an open mouth. All the lights and sounds and moving objects kept him amazed all day. My favorite ride with him was probably "It's a Small World." His didn't know which way to look because there was so much to look at. He would look right and then left, up and then down, forward and backward. He absolutely loved "the happiest place on earth!"
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