Monday, August 12, 2019
Weekly Family Photo
This is just real life: Reed, Holland, and Rachel all sick. Thankfully TJ is taking good care of us!
Monday, August 5, 2019
Tuesday, July 30, 2019
The Kids Are Talking -1-
As Reed's vocabulary expands (and we understand him more and more), we smile pretty often at the things he comes up with. Here are a few things he's said lately:
(This one was at the end of May) While on a drive, looking out the window: "Tiny diggers, I love you."
Last week, also while on a drive, over a particularly rough section of the road. When we hit bumps I often say, "Oh, that was bumpy," which he's started mimicking. He loves the bumps so after the road had smoothed out he said, "Me mo bumpies. Hana want bumpies." :)
He's got an impressive grasp on vehicles and will call out a number of things as we pass them (his current favorite being cherry pickers, which he yells out with such enthusiasm it sometimes makes Holland cry). I've pointed out semis and box trucks to him for some time but he's never caught on. One day last week it clicked and he happily called out "Semi!" over and over while we drove. And then we came to a stop light and he clearly hollered - accurately, and for the first time - "Box truck!"
Rachel: Okay, Reed, when we get home I need to change and feed Holland, so I'm going to turn on a show for you to watch.
Reed: Me mo music. Me mo Mack [Mack Wilberg, director of The Tabernacle Choir]. Arms. Red dress. [This is Reed requesting watching "Come Thou Fount" by The Tabernacle Choir].
Rachel: Reed, who's your mom?
Reed: Minnie.
Rachel: Mary?
Reed: Yep.
Reed: Mommy, kiss Reed. Lips.
(This one was at the end of May) While on a drive, looking out the window: "Tiny diggers, I love you."
Last week, also while on a drive, over a particularly rough section of the road. When we hit bumps I often say, "Oh, that was bumpy," which he's started mimicking. He loves the bumps so after the road had smoothed out he said, "Me mo bumpies. Hana want bumpies." :)
He's got an impressive grasp on vehicles and will call out a number of things as we pass them (his current favorite being cherry pickers, which he yells out with such enthusiasm it sometimes makes Holland cry). I've pointed out semis and box trucks to him for some time but he's never caught on. One day last week it clicked and he happily called out "Semi!" over and over while we drove. And then we came to a stop light and he clearly hollered - accurately, and for the first time - "Box truck!"
Rachel: Okay, Reed, when we get home I need to change and feed Holland, so I'm going to turn on a show for you to watch.
Reed: Me mo music. Me mo Mack [Mack Wilberg, director of The Tabernacle Choir]. Arms. Red dress. [This is Reed requesting watching "Come Thou Fount" by The Tabernacle Choir].
Rachel: Reed, who's your mom?
Reed: Minnie.
Rachel: Mary?
Reed: Yep.
Reed: Mommy, kiss Reed. Lips.
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
The Ball Doesn't Matter
Before we had kids TJ and I loved going on late night walks in the summer. It's so pleasant to be out in the cool air, watching the sun set, holding hands, and talking. With temperatures around 97 during the day, it's just a treat to be out when it's not so hot. We rarely get out for those late walks anymore: Reed typically goes to bed around 7:30 and we'd rather have him get his sleep and be cheerful the next day than watch the sun set. So we skip the walks for now. (I love to remember that life is long - those walks will be back before we know it).
On an atypically mild evening a few weeks ago we loaded Holland into the stroller and let Reed bring his new orange scooter for a walk. We're practicing teaching Reed about sidewalks and the road and not crossing without one of us, so we go way out of our way to stop at every street crossing (even in the neighborhoods) look for moving cars (had to add moving in there because that boy sees every vehicle, stationary or not), and then hold one of our hands to cross. All that to say, it's pretty slow going when Reed isn't in the stroller. :)
About halfway through the walk we turned onto a long street where two kids were playing on the sidewalk: they had two tennis rackets out and were hitting a ball back and forth. Since we were moving slowly we had time to watch them and figure out they were brother and sister, the boy a little bit older, probably around 8 or 9 years old. We passed them on the sidewalk and after we got about fifteen feet away heard the boy yell to his sister, "Stop! The ball doesn't matter!" I turned around to see that the boy - who had been facing his sister - had seen a car coming that his sister was blind to. When the ball had gone into the street she went to run for it and he yelled his warning (which she thankfully heeded). It hit me pretty immediately what a wise brother he was and what a profound statement he made.
I've thought about those words dozens of times since. TJ and I mulled them over the rest of the walk and he actually used that story in church the following Sunday.
So much to ponder: an older brother who sees things we don't see and warns us - sometimes urgently - "Stop! That doesn't matter." Maybe something we're worrying about is simply not significant in the big picture. Maybe we're spending time on things that are damaging our spirits. Maybe we aren't looking our kids in the eyes - truly looking at them, devices far away - and giving them our full attention. Maybe the things we read or watch are pulling us down instead of lifting us up. Maybe it doesn't really matter the last time the floor was mopped or the baseboards scrubbed or the flower beds weeded.
Are we taking time to think about what really does matter? Are we spending time on the things that are consequential? Don't get me wrong - I don't think the goal is to be going and accomplishing and doing the most possible each day. But I think it's good to pause every once in a while, reflect, and consider whether we are getting nudges about things that simply don't matter so we can adjust our course.
On an atypically mild evening a few weeks ago we loaded Holland into the stroller and let Reed bring his new orange scooter for a walk. We're practicing teaching Reed about sidewalks and the road and not crossing without one of us, so we go way out of our way to stop at every street crossing (even in the neighborhoods) look for moving cars (had to add moving in there because that boy sees every vehicle, stationary or not), and then hold one of our hands to cross. All that to say, it's pretty slow going when Reed isn't in the stroller. :)
About halfway through the walk we turned onto a long street where two kids were playing on the sidewalk: they had two tennis rackets out and were hitting a ball back and forth. Since we were moving slowly we had time to watch them and figure out they were brother and sister, the boy a little bit older, probably around 8 or 9 years old. We passed them on the sidewalk and after we got about fifteen feet away heard the boy yell to his sister, "Stop! The ball doesn't matter!" I turned around to see that the boy - who had been facing his sister - had seen a car coming that his sister was blind to. When the ball had gone into the street she went to run for it and he yelled his warning (which she thankfully heeded). It hit me pretty immediately what a wise brother he was and what a profound statement he made.
I've thought about those words dozens of times since. TJ and I mulled them over the rest of the walk and he actually used that story in church the following Sunday.
So much to ponder: an older brother who sees things we don't see and warns us - sometimes urgently - "Stop! That doesn't matter." Maybe something we're worrying about is simply not significant in the big picture. Maybe we're spending time on things that are damaging our spirits. Maybe we aren't looking our kids in the eyes - truly looking at them, devices far away - and giving them our full attention. Maybe the things we read or watch are pulling us down instead of lifting us up. Maybe it doesn't really matter the last time the floor was mopped or the baseboards scrubbed or the flower beds weeded.
Are we taking time to think about what really does matter? Are we spending time on the things that are consequential? Don't get me wrong - I don't think the goal is to be going and accomplishing and doing the most possible each day. But I think it's good to pause every once in a while, reflect, and consider whether we are getting nudges about things that simply don't matter so we can adjust our course.
| A few minutes after Holland was born - I love this picture that captures one of those moments when time stands still. Right here Holland is all that matters. |
Monday, July 15, 2019
Weekly Family Photo
Reed's jacket is from the Petersons and I tricked Reed into wearing it. He loathes new clothes so - after a whole lot of screaming - I told him if he'd just wear it for a picture so my sister and her son could see it, he could take the jacket off. What a great smile he did to get it off, right?
Friday, July 12, 2019
A Little Like Groundhog Day
As a sophomore in college I spent a semester studying abroad in Spain. I lived with a fabulous family who taught me so much: how to speak Spanish, certainly, but also how to serve and how to eat well and how to reach outside your comfort zone and really connect with people.
The center of daily life was a delectable, massive lunch each day with at least three courses. My angelic family must have doubled their food budget while I was there: I have never eaten so much food in my life. I simply couldn't get full. I'm not sure if it was all the walking or what, but it got to the point that they would pass dishes to everyone else at the table and let me have everything that was left (and they didn't know I had gone out to eat before I even came home from school!) We sat around the dining room table every day and ate and talked and listened and learned and connected.
After lunch my roommate and I sometimes found ourselves subject to watching our family's favorite American shows: The Simpsons (I loathe that show), Back to the Future (all of them - which is way too many...), and Groundhog Day. In fact, I hate every one of those shows. :)
But now that I'm home with two little littles I find myself thinking about Groundhog Day with some frequency. The rhythms of our daily life feel so darn consistent sometimes I feel as though I live on Groundhog Day.
The typical 24 hours:
- 6 AM - ish (heaven help me on the days it's 5:45 and I'm pleased as punch the days it's 7 or even 7:20) - Reed wakes up
- 4 minutes later - Reed pokes Holland and announces "Hana wake!"
- 7 AM - 8:30 - Mad dash for TJ and Rachel to shower and get ready
- 8 AM - breakfast - in mouths but also all over the floor and across all surfaces of the kitchen
- 9 AM - feed Holland, get her changed and dressed, Reed changed and dressed, clean some of the morning mess up, etc.
- 9:45 AM - try to leave the house to somewhere - anywhere! - so I don't lose my mind. Costco, Harmon's, the library for storytime, a walk, and the Bean Museum at BYU are all frequent stops. Reed and I love these outings. Holland is typically neutral.
- 11 AM - leave the location after about an hour and head for home
- 11:03 AM - both kids are crying, hungry, and ready for naps and we have miles to go before we're home ;)
- Noon - arrive home, feed Holland, cobble a lunch together for Reed, talk myself through the next 30-60 minutes.
- 1 PM - naps! It's the best when they both go down at the same time and I can blitz through various activities independently. Boy, it's starting to sound like I hate my kids. I DON'T!
- 3 or 4 PM - kids are up, we play games, work on dinner (Reed standing on his "watch" chair to help me), Reed often plays out in the dirt (scooping and dumping, as he tells me), feed Holland.
- 4:47 PM ish - TJ comes home! He is often given both children while I step away to read.
- 5:30 PM - dinner. Reed is getting better at eating! Holland typically sits at the table with us. :)
- 6:30 PM - start the bedtime routine: brush teeth, read scriptures, have prayer, get in jammies, find binkies and blankets and diggers to hold in bed.
- 7:30 or 8:30 PM - put Reed down - TJ typically takes this task, laying in bed with him to read a book before coming out to wait for him to get out of bed and go sleep in his tent. :)
- 8 or 9 PM - feed Holland, talk and play with her while she kicks and smiles.
- 9 PM - watch a show (usually a cooking show) together
- 10 PM - get ready for bed, read, get Holland in pajamas, etc.
- 11 PM - lights out
- 2 AM - Reed wakes up (about 50% of the time)
- 4 or 5 AM - Holland is up to eat
In the thick of it I can't help but wonder if I'm doing anything right. Where are all the enriching activities? What about our summer goal to read five books every day?
But we are all well fed. We're sleeping at night. We get out of the house most days and we've seen some neat places while we're out. The house is a mess but the kids know we love them. And we do love them. Even when it feels like every day is a repeat - they grow so fast. Hopefully some of the routines sink in and bless their lives somehow.
Thursday, July 11, 2019
Biggest Smile
It's an interesting thing to watch a baby grow. Each day I look at Holland and I look at Reed and wonder how he went from her size to his size so quickly. What an incredible, crazy miracle that these tiny humans grow physically, learn so quickly, develop mentally, and become their own little person.
It seems like every stage with Reed I think "Oh, this is so fun - I never could've anticipated the million little things he does and says that make me laugh," and then a month later, as we enter a new phase, I think that same thing again. To date, both TJ and I have found a whole lot to enjoy in each phase.
Don't get me wrong - there are absolutely times when I think I'm going to blow up in just one more minute (like when he threw a shoe at my face from point blank this morning...) But there are so many more endearing moments, like the times he just wants comfort and thinks he'll feel that best by having his cheek squeezed against mine, his soft skin held tightly on my face as he says "Mommy, right here."
Since he was teeny tiny Reed has been a pretty serious kid. He's a thinker. He studies things out. He watches other kids for quite a while before he joins them. He squats down to the ground and stares at something, then takes it apart to figure it out ("Mommy - did it!"). He just isn't one of the giggly, smiley kids - which is totally fine! But how I love to see him smile. :) He does smile - and often - just not constantly.
A few days ago I thought I'd see if I could get him to smile by challenging him to give me his "biggest smile." He consented and then tried his hardest to meet my request to smile, "Bigger! Bigger!" :) The pictures I got sure make ME smile. My biggest.
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