Heart Beeps

Whew! Life has gotten the best of me lately. Between health issues, finishing up school, church callings, a sister coming home from a mission, trying to find a house, and...oh yeah...two kids, I haven't blogged in a bit. I'm not apologizing (okay, you thousands of readers?!), but merely stating the facts. I love my blog, despite how infrequently and inconsistently I keep it up. It is basically my children's baby books (Ember is a little more unlucky in this aspect. Sorry Sis!) and a record of what goes on in our family - moreso the emotions attached to things than the actual events, since I'm really terrible at timely updates of holidays, vacations, etc. and by the time I get around to writing about something we did, half a year has already gone by. I hope my kids get to read my words someday though and realize that we did have fun and I spent a lot of time with them - so much so, maybe, that they didn't leave me with a lot of time to write about it! I honestly do not know how people do it that post pictures of their happy little families in their happy little houses doing happy little crafts and making happy little recipes every.single.day of their entire lives. If someone knows THAT secret, please let me know! Because I have a feeling that the more kids that we have, the less time I will be able to devote to blogging. Anyways, it is a Friday and I am finally getting to sit down for a moment while Jason does some work next to me on his computer, and he suggested that I blog about a sweet little moment that happened tonight.

~~

Parenthood is funny. And unique. No two kids are alike, and no two situations with said kids are ever alike. If they were, then there would be no need for books on parenting, or even pediatricians for that matter. If it's happened once, we'd all be experts by the second or third time. Not so. And if it is that way for you, please don't tell me. Every day I find myself completely physically and emotionally and intellectually challenged as I try my darndest to raise these two completely unique and fascinating individuals.

Maybe it's because it is the eve of my oldest's birth, but I am feeling particularly sentimental and emotional lately about my children growing up. My baby is now over two years old and becoming less of a baby with each passing day. My oldest is beginning to write and read and just graduated from her first year of preschool. What?! Where did the time go? Pardon me if I sound cliche', but seriously - tell me where it went! It's not funny anymore. This is getting serious.

~~

We put the girls to sleep tonight as we normally do - together, at the same time. Although lately, they have been getting into all sorts of mischief after the lights go out. Reagan will generally climb into Ember's crib if they're feeling feisty, and bring all of her bedding and all of the stuffed animals that we own in there with her. The girls will then proceed to jump until their hearts' content, or until the pictures and decorations on the wall in their room come crashing down - whichever happens first. If I'm being honest, after long days (most days), all I want to do is to put them to bed and just sit down. Does anyone else feel that just sitting down is a luxury that they rarely get anymore?

As luck would have it, they were up to more antics tonight that involved all of the above, as well as multiple potty breaks, drinks, and uncontrollable giggling to the point that it is not all that funny or cute anymore. At least I have to pretend that I don't think so. Finally, I barged into their room and with all of the authority I could muster, I picked Reagan up and brought her out into the living room. I am a nice mom, but it was going to have to be time-out-time for Reagan for a little bit until Ember fell asleep. She stood there for a few minutes, at which point she needed to go potty again. It was a textbook defense mechanism against time-out, but I can never tell her that she can't go potty, so off we went. We are pretty close and open in this house, and while she was doing her thing on the potty, she had her arms familiarly wrapped around my neck. My heart immediately softened. I told her that I was going to rock her in the rocking chair until Ember fell asleep. She didn't have a choice in the matter.

I sat there, methodically rocking in the dark, while visions of sleep and the half-eaten doughnuts from celebrating National Doughnut Day that sat on my counter. Reagan's curly, sweaty little head lay on my chest, and her breathing became deeper and more relaxed. She abruptly looked up at me with a little smirk.

"Mama, I can hear your heart beep." (We have beeps, not beats in our house.)

I smiled as an electrifying wave of deja vu and emotions came rushing through the top of my head and out my fingertips that held tightly onto my big, almost four year old girl.

"Oh yeah? What does it sound like?" I asked.

"Ba-bum, ba-bum," she said with confidence.

Suddenly, I realized that no less than four years ago, almost to the very minute, it was my heart beep that she was hearing for the last few hours from inside of me, as we very (im)patiently awaited her arrival in the hospital. Maybe it was that same heart beep that kept her all warm and cozy and familiar in there, ten days after her estimated time of arrival. Reagan has always had a stubborn spirit about her, and even then I should have known that she was going to come out at the very minute that she saw fit. Her eternal schedule was written in black ink and no one but her could make changes.

She laid down on my chest again, and I willed my heart to beep its most beautiful beeps right at that moment, just for her. I sat surprised, and yet not, that this very natural source of comfort was making its rounds once again into our lives, four years later.

I told her about the night she was born. The taco salad I had for dinner that night at Nana and Bumpa's. The medicine that they gave me that made me so very sick. Daddy holding a bucket and my hair for me so I could throw up. My mom pacing back and forth to the contraction monitor. Iron and Wine and the theme from Cider House Rules playing in the background. The doctor and nurses scurrying about. Pushing. Pushing. Pushing. Praying. And pushing some more. The love that her daddy's eyes showed me as he coached me through those contractions, throwing up, and pushing. Reagan coming out, pink and purple (her favorite colors!) with an endearing cone head that she wore proudly like a crown. Her dark brown hair lining the back of her neck. Her nose. Her perfect upturned nose. Her shrill cry and the way it sounded like a choir of angels, celebrating new life. The way she nursed like she had been waiting on that meal for MONTHS. The way her sweet eyes looked up at me, knowingly, as if we had been friends all along. Her daddy giving her a first bath. The earthy, sweet way that she smelled. The way I raised my bed to the same level as the tiny crib they put her in, so that I could watch her chest raise and fall all night long, despite how much I needed sleep. The painful but wonderful soreness of my body from doing exactly as it was meant to do. I will never forget it. Any of it. It is engrained in my memory - etched into my cells. She was a part of me, and still is - but I am slowly letting those pieces fly like a kite. Strings attached, of course, but she is already soaring.

She taught me more the night she was born than I had ever learned prior in my entire life. Patience. Endurance. And wild, otherworldly love. Tonight, she taught me more. All while my heart went ba-bum, ba-bum. Just for her.

Are you my mother?

We've had a few mishaps lately of mistaken identities. Mine, to be exact. For whatever reason, my girls have recently accidentally run up and hugged total strangers in public, only to look up and realize it wasn't actually me. Can you imagine how horrible that must be? It's a deadly concoction of embarrassment, fear, and anger that leaves my girls red-faced and clinging to me like a baby sloth the rest of the day.

Ember did it first, last weekend. We were in Tacoma all day on Saturday, enjoying the Children's Museum in its new location - for free, I might add. The Seattle Children's Museum is most definitely NOT free, and I was delightfully surprised when the lady at the front desk kindly told us that they don't charge, only accept donations. Now, it's awkward (at least for me) to tell her, "No thanks, we don't want to donate, but my kids are going to play here all day," so we donated a small fee. Honestly, for how much fun the girls had exploring there, it was a bargain at any price. We decided to leave late afternoon, after spending a solid few hours there. The girls were exhausted from all of the stimulation. As soon as we got in the car, they zonked out. Jason and I talked about our possibilities, and we spontaneously decided to drive to Gig Harbor. It was a good chance to talk and enjoy the beautiful weather. We even had our windows rolled down for some of the drive. Our lease is up here in July, which is right before Jason's company makes a big move to North Seattle. Meaning that we need to find a place to live. There are so many options in the Seattle area - it is both exciting and overwhelming. Anyways, we enjoyed the beautiful drive up there. We got there right as it became dark, which was bad planning on our part. It was not even 5:00. I guess we had forgotten that it wasn't summer. It gets DARK there - hardly any streetlights. By then, the girls were awake, so we decided to stop at the Golden Arches - this really fancy establishment - for dinner. We waited in line for our turn to order. Ember, who had been at my feet, ran behind me and latched onto the legs of an unsuspecting elderly woman. C'mon, Ember...not only was she elderly, but she was in a polyester pant suit. Blow to the ego, right there. As soon as she heard the lady say, "Well, hi sweetheart," and pat her pigtailed head, she knew what she had done. She looked up, and sure enough, it was most definitely not me. I think that can be recorded as Ember's first experience with embarrassment. Her chubby little cheeks turned rosy and mortified, she buried her face into my shoulder, holding that position for about 15 minutes. There was no crying involved, which is rare for Ember, but I think she didn't know what to do with the new feelings she was feeling. Her emotion was tangible. I felt sincerely bad for her, but it was kind of funny.

Today, we went to the library for toddler/preschool story time. It is one of my favorite days of the week. After, we wandered to the children's book section to pick out our weekly books and movies. The girls sat at our usual table, thumbing through books quietly, while I wandered a couple feet away to try and find the Fancy Nancy books that Reagan has been requesting. Suddenly, Reagan wanted to show me something in her book. I heard her call for me, and then heard footsteps down the aisle next to me. Next I hear, "Well where's your mommy?" I quickly showed up, and Reagan dashed straight toward me, her eyes to the floor. Looking up, I was pleasantly surprised that Reagan had mistaken me for a super cute stylish mom, so that made up for Ember's mishap with the elderly woman last weekend. To her credit, we were both wearing Chuck Taylor shoes. Reagan doesn't handle embarrassment well. I sat down, told her I would never leave her, and held her for...well, the rest of the time. She wouldn't let me set her down. She didn't say a word, only clung to me for dear life. I felt the hot coming off of her cheeks like steam, and really empathized with her vulnerability. Reagan is such a busy-body that I actually enjoyed this moment probably more than I should have. It is rare for her to want me to hold her for that long. I sat and rocked her, my face buried into her hair, breathing in her signature sweet Reagan scent. I even closed my eyes, trying to remember when she was little and would fall asleep like this on me every night. How quickly we forget what those moments feel like. I always worried that she would never be able to fall asleep anywhere but my chest and now, I am practically begging her to sit on my lap for more than a few minutes. For some reason, today, I enjoyed holding her more than I normally would have. I didn't want it to end. Her strong little arms wrapped around me, and mine around her. For a moment, it felt as though I might absorb her. It was wonderful. That may be a strange thought, but I think that most mothers would identify with the feeling. I missed her touch - her needing me to just hold her and reassure her that I wasn't leaving anytime soon. When she finally decided she was ready to let go, she grabbed my face and smiled. We had a moment, her and I. For a brief second, she seemed much older and more mature than a 3 1/2 year old. Her look showed me gratitude. I felt loved. I needed that.

It does happen

Today is a day that I always want to remember.

It started out fairly normal. Actually, if I'm being honest, it started out worse than normal. I made eggs for breakfast. Reagan didn't want eggs. Reagan wanted to play a computer game on the PBS kids website. We didn't have time. It was "wear red" day at preschool. Reagan wanted to wear her big, fluffy Rapunzel dress. I was this close to just shrugging my shoulders and letting her go with it, but I decided that it would be too much of a distraction for not only her but the rest of the kids at school. She wasn't happy with me. We got to preschool. She wanted to ring the doorbell. Her teacher, Miss Alaina (who I LOVE), answered the door before Reagan was able to. Reagan threw a pretty solid little tantrum right there on the steps of preschool.

"Here - here is my child," I felt like saying, "Have fun and good luck!" while I ran away as fast as I could.

But I didn't. I knelt down and tried to explain that it was okay, and that maybe next time she could ring the doorbell. Miss Alaina was even so kind as to step back inside and let Reagan do her thing with the doorbell, but by then, the damage was done. Reagan is a girl who knows WHAT she wants WHEN she wants it. Luckily, the tantrum was short lived. I gave Reagan a kiss on the head and sent her on her way with an apologetic look to her teacher.

"Don't worry - I'll let you know how it goes," Miss Alaina said reassuringly.Like I said, I really love her. She is so patient and kind and always reassuring.

I got back into my car with Ember and drove back home. I was drained, and it was only 10 am. After straightening up the house a bit, reading some scriptures, and playing with Ember, it was time to pick up Reagan from preschool. Two hours goes by so fast! As soon as the front door opened, Reagan saw me and came running to me with a smile, showing off her Groundhog Day craft she had made. I hugged her, and shot Miss Alaina a look of thanks.

"Emily," she said, "Reagan listened wonderfully today. She had a great day."

I have to admit I was a little shocked. Reagan's emotions have been on red-alert lately. She is so passionate about what she wants and I often feel like she is a ticking time bomb. I do not, by any means, intend to be complaining about this. She is 3, and has been particularly challenging for the past few months. There have also been a lot of changes, so I don't place any blame on Reagan. We moved. She moved away from her friends, not to mention her Nana and Bumpa. New ward, new friends, new preschool, potty training, little sister who wants to do everything that Reagan is doing and with whom she must share mommy's attention with, etc. All normal, and to be expected.

After the morning we had, something today just clicked. The rest of the day, Reagan was absolutely delightful to be around. I made sure to lay the praise on extra thick, even making sure we called Nana right away to tell her how great she did bringing her "listening ears" to preschool. Today, Reagan did almost everything that I asked of her with a smile on her face and sans the usual tantrum. Not only that, but she actually suggested a couple times that we "clean up before moving on to something else." Seriously? I couldn't believe what I was hearing! She even asked for a special bowl of vegetables to enjoy after her actual dinner. She played doctor nicely with her sister before bed, and told Jason that, before they could cuddle and watch a little bit of "Tangled" together, she needed to clean her toys up. I overheard this in the other room and came out, so that I could make sure I heard what I thought I was hearing. Jason and I both just stared at each other in disbelief.

Is this it? Did all of the sudden the planets align and everything I have taught Reagan up to this point suddenly make sense? Admittedly, probably not. But one thing's for certain. This will be a day I will never forget. I had to write it down, if only for a reference on a particularly hard day. I need to remember that sometimes, things do go right! Sometimes, my kids do listen - and sometimes, they even do it happily!

After the girls were in bed tonight, Jason and I talked about what exactly happened today that was different, in hopes that we could re-enact it from now on. Honestly, both of us are pretty stumped. The only thing I had to offer was that I had been praying really hard lately to understand Reagan and be able to communicate with her on her level. And be happy. Honestly, sometimes you just want your kids to be happy. I wrote a blog entry about how my job is not to make my kids "happy" a while back. I meant that, but truthfully - sometimes them being happy is all I can hope for in a day. At the end of some days, if I was able to make them smile, then it was a success. My house might be a mess. I might not have gotten anything done. Perhaps my kids disobeyed and fought all day long. But if there were some happy moments, then I can go to bed knowing I did my best.

What I can take from today is that my prayers are answered. Not always on my timeline, but they are answered. I know that. I also know that not every day will go as "perfectly", but if I can remember these "kairos" moments, then every tantrum is so, so worth it. Bring on tomorrow! I am ready.

It must be noted: It is 11 pm. Reagan went to bed at 8:30 and has gotten out of bed no less than 10 times already, for various reasons. There she goes, humbling me again. Love her.

Don't Carpe the Diem

I read this article the other day, along with probably half of the modern world, but it really struck a chord with me, and so I wanted to share it. I am going to post the actual article, and not just the link, in fear that it may someday become a dead link. I plan on printing our blog at some point, and want to remember this article.

Don't Carpe the Diem

By Glennon Melton, Huffington Post

Every time I'm out with my kids -- this seems to happen:

An older woman stops us, puts her hand over her heart and says something like, "Oh, Enjoy every moment. This time goes by so fast."

Everywhere I go, someone is telling me to seize the moment, raise my awareness, be happy, enjoy everysecond, etc, etc, etc.

I know that this message is right and good. But, I have finally allowed myself to admit that it just doesn't work for me. It bugs me. This CARPE DIEM message makes me paranoid and panicky. Especially during this phase of my life - while I'm raising young kids. Being told, in a million different ways to CARPE DIEM makes me worry that if I'm not in a constant state of intense gratitude and ecstasy, I'm doing something wrong.

I think parenting young children (and old ones, I've heard) is a little like climbing Mount Everest. Brave, adventurous souls try it because they've heard there's magic in the climb. They try because they believe that finishing, or even attempting the climb are impressive accomplishments. They try because during the climb, if they allow themselves to pause and lift their eyes and minds from the pain and drudgery, the views are breathtaking. They try because even though it hurts and it's hard, there are moments that make it worth the hard. These moments are so intense and unique that many people who reach the top start planning, almost immediately, to climb again. Even though any climber will tell you that most of the climb is treacherous, exhausting, killer. That they literally cried most of the way up.

And so I think that if there were people stationed, say, every thirty feet along Mount Everest yelling to the climbers -- "ARE YOU ENJOYING YOURSELF!? IF NOT, YOU SHOULD BE! ONE DAY YOU'LL BE SORRY YOU DIDN'T!" TRUST US!! IT'LL BE OVER TOO SOON! CARPE DIEM!" -- those well-meaning, nostalgic cheerleaders might be physically thrown from the mountain.

Now. I'm not suggesting that the sweet old ladies who tell me to ENJOY MYSELF be thrown from a mountain. These are wonderful ladies. Monkees, probably. But last week, a woman approached me in the Target line and said the following: "Sugar, I hope you are enjoying this. I loved every single second of parenting my two girls. Every single moment. These days go by so fast." At that particular moment, Amma had arranged one of the new bras I was buying on top of her sweater and was sucking a lollipop that she must have found on the ground. She also had three shop-lifted clip-on neon feathers stuck in her hair. She looked exactly like a contestant from Toddlers and Tiaras. I couldn't find Chase anywhere, and Tish was grabbing the pen on the credit card swiper thing WHILE the woman in front of me was trying to use it. And so I just looked at the woman, smiled and said, "Thank you. Yes. Me too. I am enjoying every single moment. Especially this one. Yes. Thank you."

That's not exactly what I wanted to say, though.

There was a famous writer who, when asked if he loved writing, replied, "No. but I love having written." What I wanted to say to this sweet woman was, "Are you sure? Are you sure you don't mean you love having parented?"

I love having written. And I love having parented. My favorite part of each day is when the kids are put to sleep (to bed) and Craig and I sink into the couch to watch some quality TV, like Celebrity Wife Swap, and congratulate each other on a job well done. Or a job done, at least.

Every time I write a post like this, I get emails suggesting that I'm being negative. I have received this particular message four or five times -- G, if you can't handle the three you have, why do you want a fourth? That one always stings, and I don't think it's quite fair. Parenting is hard. Just like lots of important jobs are hard. Why is it that the second a mother admits that it's hard, people feel the need to suggest that maybe she's not doing it right? Or that she certainly shouldn't add more to her load. Maybe the fact that it's so hard means she IS doing it right...in her own way...and she happens to be honest.

Craig is a software salesman. It's a hard job in this economy. And he comes home each day and talks a little bit about how hard it is. And I don't ever feel the need to suggest that he's not doing it right, or that he's negative for noticing that it's hard, or that maybe he shouldn't even consider taking on more responsibility. And I doubt anybody comes by his office to make sure he's ENJOYING HIMSELF. I doubt his boss peeks in his office and says: "This career stuff...it goes by so fast...ARE YOU ENJOYING EVERY MOMENT IN THERE, CRAIG???? CARPE DIEM, CRAIG!" My point is this. I used to worry that not only was I failing to do a good enough job at parenting, but that I wasn't enjoying it enough. Double failure. I felt guilty because I wasn't in parental ecstasy every hour of every day and I wasn't MAKING THE MOST OF EVERY MOMENT like the mamas in the parenting magazines seemed to be doing. I felt guilty because honestly, I was tired and cranky and ready for the day to be over quite often. And because I knew that one day, I'd wake up and the kids would be gone, and I'd be the old lady in the grocery store with my hand over my heart. Would I be able to say I enjoyed every moment? No.

But the fact remains that I will be that nostalgic lady. I just hope to be one with a clear memory. And here's what I hope to say to the younger mama gritting her teeth in line:

"It's helluva hard, isn't it? You're a good mom, I can tell. And I like your kids, especially that one peeing in the corner. She's my favorite. Carry on, warrior. Six hours till bedtime." And hopefully, every once in a while, I'll add -- "Let me pick up that grocery bill for ya, sister. Go put those kids in the van and pull on up -- I'll have them bring your groceries out." Anyway. Clearly, Carpe Diem doesn't work for me. I can't even carpe fifteen minutes in a row, so a whole diem is out of the question.

Here's what does work for me:

There are two different types of time. Chronos time is what we live in. It's regular time, it's one minute at a time, it's staring down the clock till bedtime time, it's ten excruciating minutes in the Target line time, it's four screaming minutes in time out time, it's two hours till daddy gets home time. Chronos is the hard, slow passing time we parents often live in.

Then there's Kairos time. Kairos is God's time. It's time outside of time. It's metaphysical time. It's those magical moments in which time stands still. I have a few of those moments each day. And I cherish them.

Like when I actually stop what I'm doing and really look at Tish. I notice how perfectly smooth and brownish her skin is. I notice the perfect curves of her teeny elf mouth and her asianish brown eyes, and I breathe in her soft Tishy smell. In these moments, I see that her mouth is moving but I can't hear her because all I can think is -- This is the first time I've really seen Tish all day, and myGod -- she is so beautiful. Kairos.

Like when I'm stuck in chronos time in the grocery line and I'm haggard and annoyed and angry at the slow check-out clerk. And then I look at my cart and I'm transported out of chronos. And suddenly I notice the piles and piles of healthy food I'll feed my children to grow their bodies and minds and I remember that most of the world's mamas would kill for this opportunity. This chance to stand in a grocery line with enough money to pay. And I just stare at my cart. At the abundance. The bounty. Thank you, God. Kairos.

Or when I curl up in my cozy bed with Theo asleep at my feet and Craig asleep by my side and I listen to them both breathing. And for a moment, I think- how did a girl like me get so lucky? To go to bed each night surrounded by this breath, this love, this peace, this warmth? Kairos.

These kairos moments leave as fast as they come- but I mark them. I say the word kairos in my head each time I leave chronos. And at the end of the day, I don't remember exactly what my kairos moments were, but I remember I had them. And that makes the pain of the daily parenting climb worth it.

If I had a couple Kairos moments during the day, I call it a success.

Carpe a couple of Kairoses a day.

Good enough for me.

________________________________________________________________________

Amen, Sista.

Reagan

Reagan, my oldest little love. She meets the need for vivaciousness and feisty-ness in our family. In fact, I don't know that we have room for another family member quite as spicy as her! I admire so much about Reagan. She is bold and confident. She is assertive and intelligent. When I look at her, I see someone with qualities that will serve her so well throughout her entire life. I am so grateful for that! I have no doubt in my mind that her confidence and sense of who she is will come in handy one day! In Reagan's mind, they world is hers and everyone else is just living in it. I don't mean that in the sense that she is selfish, but she truly lives in her own wonderful and imaginative world. She takes life head-on and is never afraid to hide her excitement about learning something new, or meeting a new friend.

Reagan is in the midst of her first year of preschool, and she is loving it. She is an incredibly social little girl, and is most definitely the class clown. She loves to be around other kids, and considers even the older kids at school her very closest friends. She will come home with stories about who she made laugh that day, or what kind of dancing she did during snack time. Although I am certain that her outbursts of fun and creativity are not in the preschool schedule, her teachers are kind and patient with her, and are always telling me how fun she is. They also tell me how tired I must be. And they'd be right!

Reagan has a real knack for anything involving singing, dancing, and music. She has a great sense of rhythm and wonderful control over her body. I am sometimes surprised at how graceful she can move. We have looked into enrolling her in some kind of dance class. Ballet has come up as an option - I just don't want anything we sign her up for to stifle her in any way. I know that ballet is very structured - not that she doesn't need structure, but I think I am looking for more of a place where she is free to explore different kinds of movement. I know that she would eat it up, and it would be a healthy outlet for all that creativity.

Watching Reagan, you'd think she was in the middle of a musical or play at any given time. She sings most of her responses to me, and they are almost always accompanied by either a very beautiful or hilariously provocative dance move. This girl keeps us entertained and on our toes. There is NEVER a dull moment with Miss Reagan!

Reagan has the most beautiful naturally wavy/curly hair, big blue eyes, and fair skin. She used to be fairly tall for her age, but is currently one of the most petite in her class (which is exactly how I was). Her love for the Disney princesses is unwavering, but she also enjoys getting into any really good book with fierce, assertive characters she can relate to. She loves sports, painting, and building things. She is such a special little girl. Although she definitely challenges me, I also never have any doubt that she loves me. She is very loving and chooses her words carefully when expressing her feelings to others. Today she told me: "I love the way that you are as my mom". I love it too.

*Side note, just because I want to have this written down somewhere, for posterity's sake:

Reagan has MANY imaginary friends - most of them siblings. She has an imaginary older brother named Harlee'e (think Hawaiian). He is 16 years old, and apparently lives close, but not with us. She also has two sisters named Hymia and Mia. I am uncertain of their ages, but I get the feeling they are younger sisters. Then she has a friend named Ixing Wallentodder (I could not make this stuff up). Lately, she has also been singing about the "Rooda Hodda" (which I get the feeling is some kind of tribe) and "King Mabooda" (King of the Rooda Hodda? Maybe). I honestly do not know where any of these people or names come from, but it makes life pretty interesting around these parts. She often tells her teachers at church and school about her 16 year old brother, which creates a need for some awkward conversations and lots of clarification. No, I did not have a baby boy when I was 10, thank you very much! She is an intensely creative girl.

Ember

Ember is our family's little sweetie-pie. At 22 months, she still qualifies as the baby of our household. I've succeeded in embracing all of her "baby-ness" until recently. Her vocabulary has suddenly shot through the roof and this has brought about all sorts of independence. Suddenly, she is asking us questions: "Daddy funny?" "Reagan sad?" "Sissy dance?", saying prayers, and cracking jokes:

Ember: "Knock, knock."

- "Who's there?"

Ember: "Knock, knock."

- "Knock, knock, who?"

Ember: "Knock, knock, YOU!"

She is still the peacemaker of the family, though, and would do anything to make us happy. She doesn't like to see others hurt or upset, and often offers them things that are important to her to remedy the situation: blanky, drink, doll, etc. She adores Reagan in every possible way and her life goal to follow her sister around and mimic everything she is doing. She is the most affectionate of our children, always freely giving hugs and kisses. This makes her waking up all night not as bad as it could be, when she tells me "Mommy, yuv yoo" and squeezes me tight when I come to her rescue. She knows how to soften me up, that's for sure.

At almost two, she is still nursing. I have mixed feelings about this, but almost all of them are good ones. She calls nursing "ding". It is impossible for me to say no to her. It is the last bit of "baby" left in her, and I am more than happy to oblige to her one vice and consistent source of comfort. It will be gone soon enough and I am sure I will miss it.

Ember is also painfully shy and buries her head into my shoulder following eye contact with pretty much anyone. What a stark contrast this is to her older sister! It is so fun having two girls, because I am constantly in awe of how different they are. If I tell Ember "no", she melts into a puddle of tears. Anyone who has spent five minutes with Reagan knows that she is the exact opposite. Ember also cries if I sing any soft or pretty song to her. I promise I am not that bad! Sometimes I forget, and will start to sing a primary song to the girls, and Ember just loses it. First her lip will quiver, and then you will literally hear the heartbreak in her sobs. As sad as this is, it is also pretty funny. We have tried our hardest to pinpoint exactly why she does this, and the closest thing we've come up with is that she associates it with sleeping. She loves to sleep, but I think has very set ideas in her head about when it is supposed to happen. I have no idea if Ember's shyness or sensitivity will stick with her, or if it just a phase she is going through, but she is so darn cute either way.

Ember loves babies, Elmo, and of course, anything princess-related. She loves to dance and has a signature "gallop" that she does when she's really feeling the music. She loves food, and will eat anything we put on her plate, from vegetables dipped in hummus, to seafood, to yogurt, to cereal. Ember also has this thick head of blonde hair. We don't really know where this came from, but it is definitely different than her sister's hair. She has the sweetest, most genuine smile, and has squinty, happy blue eyes.

We love our Sissy-Goo. She brings peace, love, and joy into our home.

Jason & I

J-Bone

Jason is still working at the same company, and really likes it. It is a solid company. We have great benefits. He is learning a lot. We feel blessed. They are moving to a different part of Seattle next summer/fall, and so we are stuck with the decision of where to move to avoid a killer commute. We are hoping to find something North of Seattle that is: 1) A house, with a yard 2) Affordable. Don't laugh at the qualifications. The chances may be slim, but we are working on it.

I don’t say it enough, but I truly am grateful to Jason for providing so well for us. He works so hard at what he does and displays integrity through it all. Last week during Seattle’ s “snowmageddon”, he was only able to actually go into work one day because the road conditions were so bad and the busses were running hours late. The great part about it, however, was that he could work from home and get just as much (if not more) done. I might be old-school, but I still think it’s cool that he can do that, and we were definitely grateful that he was still able to work. The girls’ favorite time of day is when he walks in the door from work. They always maul him before he even has a chance to set his stuff down. Reagan’s world becomes whole again when Daddy comes home. Anytime anything is broken or she is sad, she says that she just wants Daddy to be home. Daddy can fix anything. Plus, I really really like him. Bonus!

Me

I am in the midst of my second quarter back at school since starting up again. Last quarter was difficult. There’s not much else to say about it. I got through it, however, and now don’t have to take any more math for the rest of college. I have gained my footing a little more this quarter and am actually enjoying it. It is still a lot of work. Most days, I don’t even get on a computer or look at my homework until after the girls are in bed, so this means many late, late nights for me. But, I am finally back in a writing class and feel a total sense of renewal and inspiration for why it is that I am doing this. I love to write. That is what I want to do. My love for writing dates back all the way to 4^th grade in Mrs. Palm’s class at North Bellingham Elementary. That’s when I fell in love. When I write, I feel this total sense of freedom. No inhibitions. I am learning a lot and improving and I am so excited about it. When I am consistently writing on a daily basis, I feel a greater sense of appreciation and presence in my daily life. I feel alive. It’s a really, really wonderful feeling.

Other than that, I am just enjoying spending time with my girls. They are the reason for everything that I do. They challenge me on a daily basis and most days it is hard, but if I keep a good perspective throughout the day, I am amazed that this is my life. They are the sweetest part of my world, and I can’t even put into words how much they mean to me.