Come Visit

These past couple of weeks have been hard. Maybe my most difficult weeks of parenting yet. But, in those hard times, there have also been extremely beautiful and sweet times. Isn't that the way it always is? We learn that there must be opposition in all things. Easy to hear in a Sunday School lesson. Harder to experience. However, we also learn that we must have heartache to experience true joy. Trials to appreciate when life is running smoothly. This was one of those moments.
Our morning hadn't started out so well. My eyes stung with sleep deprivation. I was scrubbing "potty" from the floor. (It was day 1 of potty training.) My shirt was soaked with baby spit-up. Ember's cough sounded like a barking seal. I had a long list of appointments to make and responsibilities to fulfill. My fridge and cupboards were sparse. I was missing my sister more than usual. Jason was out of town. In other words, it was "normal mom day" for many people that I know, but for some reason it was getting to me more than usual, I think mainly due to lack of sleep. I had resigned to letting Reagan watch more "Cat in the Hat" than I usually do, so that I could finish cleaning up and re-grouping. All of the sudden, cutting through the noise of the TV, my barking baby, and the dishwasher - a voice. Sweet and innocent the words came, like wind chimes, and settled deep into my soul, warming the cold and bitterness that feeling sorry for myself had created just moments before.

"Heavenly Father, please come visit us. Please come visit us? Please? Please? Amen."

Reagan has fairly recently started saying her own, very simple, prayers. But this one...this one cut me to the core. Simple and juvenile the words may have been, but deep and poignant was their meaning. Her sincerity hit me like a ton of bricks. We needed a turnaround and her simple prayer brought one. We needed the spirit in our home, and our spiritual appetites were craving a "visit." It took my 2 year old's simple plea to a Heavenly Father that she knows, with stalwart faithfulness, loves her and listens to her to make me realize that I had been doing it all wrong. I stopped feeling sorry for myself right then and there. I am grateful for my children whose sweet spirits, smiles, and simple words bear testimony of a loving Heavenly Father who wants to help if only I remember to ask. Thank you, Reagan.

Patty Murray

This woman,

now in her fourth term as Washington State Senator,
was called by my daughter,
a "blobie girl."
And I quote: "Patty Murray's a blobie girl."
This is still one term that Reagan uses that we still haven't quite figured out the meaning.
But, judging solely based on our feelings after Thursday's senate results,
it's less than complementary.
Sorry, Patty.
By the way, who else is glad that the endless attack ads are over?? (At least for a short while.)
Can I get an AMEN.

Side note:
Poor Dino Rossi can't catch a break. Reagan's concerns and political analyses weren't limited to Patty. Anytime she heard anyone (TV, Radio, casual conversation) mention Dino (GOP running for senate against Patty), she would always think they were saying "Do you know...) As in, "Do you know Rossi?" Her reply, "Yes, I know Rossi!" =) Yeah, she makes us laugh.

We did it

Last week, I decided to buckle down and get my big girl Reagan potty-trained. She has been ready for a while, but I never really made up my mind 100% to do it. I don't know what did it for me this time. It was a combination of things. I was really sick of changing diapers all day. Two kids go through a lot of diapers. I sympathize with octo-mom. I think it was also encouragement from others going through the same thing that I could, in fact, do it. Reagan took to it like a champ. Some told me pull-ups don't work, but for us, they worked like a charm. Pretty "big girls" (undies), stickers, and cheap little trinkets left over from her 2nd birthday party, and we were set. She still gets excited when she goes, and still announces to everyone, no matter who is in the room, "Hey guys, I did it. Wanna see my pee?"
I have also not spent that much time in the bathroom since I was pregnant with Reagan, spending many a night hugging the porcelain throne. I have to say that the bathroom has made it up to me and he/she and I are now friends.
The only thing I would have done differently is doing it sooner. I think when she was first showing signs of being ready, I should have just gone with the flow, and not worried SO MUCH about the fact that I was pregnant and due in a couple of months. I think she would have done just fine. But I find that, with all things in parenting that I have experienced thus far, these things always seem scarier and much more daunting than they actually are. I also picked the absolute wrong week to do it, due to multiple wakings a night on Reagan's part due to who knows what. (We are both still averaging only a few hours of sleep a night.) But alas, I figured might as well deal with all of the yuck in one week. And I am glad I did. It's weird what a difference being (mostly) potty trained makes in how "big" my girl seems. It is sad, but it is happy. We're ready for the next big challenge to come our way! Proud of that little girl.

Jack Johnson

Way back at the beginning of October (time is flying SO FAST lately), we did a "one last hurrah" trip with Haley over to George to see our favorite, Jack Johnson, perform at the Gorge amphitheater. Tickets were purchased back in June as an anniversary gift to me. At the time, I thought that October was SO FAR AWAY. I should have known better. I had a 3 month old then. I have a 7 month old now. Did I even blink? Silly me. I have to be honest, in those first several months of "figuring things out" as a new parent to 2, those Jack Johnson tickets really gave me something to look forward to - an "escape," if you will. Any time I was exhausted, sleep-deprived, in-need-of-a-shower (which fairly accurately describes most of my days), those tickets danced around in the back of my mind and made me giddy with anticipation. On several occasions, I even got excited that I might be able to shower before the concert.
Well, it happened. We went, and you'll be happy to know that I was in fact able to shower before the concert. Such a fun group - Jason, Haley, Ember, and I. We partied hard, listening to conference on the drive over from our phones. Have I mentioned that I love technology?

We even stopped on the way there and filled our car with 20 pounds of Honeycrisp (aka Nectar of the Gods) apples for $15 for a friend. Can you believe that price? We laughed, sang, danced, and snacked on hummus and crackers the whole way there. To be honest, we could have headed home once we got there, and the trip would have been completely worth it. It was one of those moments in life where everything just felt happy and perfect - like we were right where we were supposed to be. I was more "high off of life" on that day than I had been in a long time. I can't say that life was the only thing that our fellow concert attendees were high off of, but we had a really wonderful time regardless. You can't beat watching that sunset, over that gorge, with those people, all the while being serenaded by Jack's sweet like honey voice and delicate guitar strummin'. When I think of the elements that make up a perfect summer/verge-of-Fall day, that day had just about all of them...minus having Reagan there, as I did miss her.
Concerts make for prime people watching, which we did a lot of. I love watching people let loose and let the rhythm take over their bodies, or as Jack would say "move like a jellyfish." My reasons for loving this are two-fold. 1) Man, there are some confident people out there. 2) It helps me to let loose also. I love it. One woman came up to us with her son who was about 5 or 6, and commented that her son was Ember's age when they went to his first Jack Johnson concert. She seemed like a very conservative mom-lady. But boy, was that first impression wrong. As soon as the sun went down and the lighters went up, this lady, mom-jeans and all, was up at the front, just singing and dancing like it was nobody's business. Her son was nowhere to be seen (worried? Maybe.) as she moved and grooved to the soulful tunes. Some of her dance moves were totally risque' too, and she was sharing 'em with the world! I was loving it. Haley and I even got up next to her and busted a few moves...nothing too risque', as my daughter was watching. We had so much fun, and our sides hurt from laughing so much and so hard. I had tears in my eyes, some from laughter, but some because it was just such a beautiful day to spend with my sister, my daughter, and the love of my life. There is something about good music that just magnifies the love and beauty all around us. A memory for the record-books.

Sister Haley

Ask Haley or me if we got along when we were younger, and you will most likely get laughed at. This laughter is no offense to you; it's not your fault for asking, but, if we are being honest here, our childhood relationship left something to be desired. And by something I mean hugs and kisses, sharing, general kindness and cooperation, maybe even an agreement or two thrown in there for good measure. It would be an understatement to say that we weren't the best of friends growing up.
The almost 4 year gap between us didn't bode well when it came to that typical, tempestuous sibling relationship. We were close enough in age that we were always in competition (although, looking back at it, I would have to admit that it was most likely one-sided competition on my part. Haley's generally fairly easy-going and I USED to be, generally, NOT), but far apart enough in years that there wasn't a whole lot of understanding going on behind the scenes. In fact, that past misunderstanding has most certainly left us with fingernail scratch scars on our backs and perhaps a few handfuls of missing hair to prove it. Embarrassing.
In fact, there was once a year-long battle over nothing but a white t-shirt with a sparkly 'California' decal on it. We wrestled it off of each other in a jealous, possessive, rage, on more occasions than I am willing to admit or even remember. Classy, ain't it? That T-shirt now has a permanent home in a keepsake cedar chest, because it is not only quite hilarious to reminisce about, but also represents a "coming of age" for both of us as sisters, and eventually, friends. Best friends, actually.
Ask us how our relationship is now, (what? You don't want to because you were laughed at before? Don't be scared.) and we will tell you that our battle wounds are now beauty marks. Our past arguments and word-wars (and fingernail wars) now provide our family with hours of entertaining anecdotes to be told and fights to be laughed over.
Since those "dark ages" of our relationship, we have spent hours on the phone and in person, laughing and crying with one another over many of life's triumphs and heartbreaks. When I needed someone to talk to at 3 am about a decision I was pining over, Haley was only a phone call (and an ocean, no big deal) away. When Haley needed relationship advice or was feeling lonely on her island out in the Pacific Ocean, I made it a point to answer her cries. She has held my hand and acted as the "bigger" sister as I have wept on her shoulder out of loneliness, confusion, fear, sadness, and happiness over the years. We have shared deep secrets and had hearts-to-hearts in the quiet hours of the night where hidden thoughts and feelings come out of their cobwebbed corners.
She has become a very real part of who I am, and I can only hope that the feeling is reciprocated. She has mothered my girls, and told them they are beautiful. She has calmed their cries and mended their broken hearts when no one else could. She is my sister, and the love that I have for her is really more than even the most beautiful words could ever hope to explain.
That sister, my closest friend, was dropped off at the Missionary Training Center (AKA basic training for missionaries) last Wednesday. Due to their new "drive by drop offs", we decided to forgo the trip to Provo and said our goodbyes at my parents' home last Monday night after a very tender family home evening together. I would be lying if I said it was an easy goodbye for me. Easy, I suppose, in the way that I couldn't ask for anyone to take better care of her than a Heavenly Father who always knows better than I do. But, hard in the way that it is difficult for me to imagine anyone needing her more than I need my sister. That irrational and completely incorrect, but very tangible, feeling has caught me off-guard already on more than one occasion. I keep having to remind myself that I can't keep this beautiful soul to myself. I beam with pride, however, that I have had some, albeit very small and seemingly insignificant, part in teaching her to be a "Sister."
Now that she is "Sister Pratt," I have realized that her job as a missionary will not be too far away from what my "Sister Haley" has been for me all along. A sister teaches learning from mistakes, as she has taught me to do from my own, on too many occasions to count. A sister teaches forgiveness, as she has taught me, as well as given to me, despite my cruel words or actions. A sister teaches joy and happiness in living the gospel, as she has taught me by example. A sister holds your hand, despite being younger in age and perhaps experience, as your cry because of mistakes you have made or at the beautiful cruelty of life. A sister laughs and celebrates with you as you rise triumphant over life's trials. She will be celebrating so many victories as a "Sister" to the people of the Philippines as she helps teach them repentance and forgiveness, and brings them into the fold. She magnifies the sacred calling of "Sister," and I couldn't be happier or more excited for those that they get to experience all that is 'Haley' for the next 18 months.

Who is the mother here?

Reagan is both a free spirit and a wise soul. Sometimes I look at her and I have to ask myself if, possibly, long before this life existed, she was perhaps older and wiser than me. I like to think that she took care of me, and we laughed at the idea that I was actually going to be her mother, changing her diapers, and teaching her the ABCs, and not the other way around. Although she is spunky and very, very funny, she has this sweet countenance that shines through on even her "naughtiest" days.
She loves secrets, and will whisper the most sort-of-non-sensical-but-sweetest-things-you've-ever-heard that just make my heart melt.
"Hey mommy. I need to love your heart."
"Um...probably you and me are a princess and Jesus is in the temple."
I love that, despite her lacking vocabulary, she expresses herself so well.

She has grown really close to my Grandma Pratt lately. Grandma Pratt calls herself "Grandma Great" which, logically, translated into Reagan language, is "Grandpa Grape." We were even eating grapes the other day, and she asked me if they were from Grandma Grape's house. This bond that have formed between them could not have come at a better time. I truly believe that children sense things that they couldn't have possibly known otherwise. If I was a skeptic before, Reagan has made me a believer that even the "littlest" folk have insight on many of the deepest and most serious situations that occur in life. My grandma has been having serious health issues (she is doing a lot better now, thank goodness), and literally the week that we found out about them all, Reagan started explaining to me, in her words, what was wrong with Grandma Grape. She got an old doll out of my cedar chest that my grandma made for me years and years ago and has been sleeping with it since. She won't let go of it. She has asked to go visit Grandma Grape every single day, and the last time we did (right after she had surgery), Reagan just wanted to lay next to her in bed and hold her hand. It is a beautiful thing when souls connect beyond just our day-to-day earthly relationships, and I feel priveleged to get to watch it happen between these two.

I had to share these pictures that Reagan drew. She drew them in the bath, so, sadly, I will not get to tuck them away into her baby book. I thought I would take pictures before I washed them off of the tub walls. However, I just can't get myself to do it yet. So precious. I am so excited for her that she is starting to be able to really draw faces and people, with eyes, noses, mouths, hair, arms, legs, and yes, even bums...all of the important body parts. =)
The whole masterpiece:

"Mommy" (with all of her body parts)...see the cute arms and legs?

The bigger one is Reagan, and the little one is Sissy. Notice her little arm reaching out to hug Reagan? How cute is that? It's even cuter when you're having it explained to you. =)

I got punk'd

Someone played a mean trick on me today. The alarm on my phone went off, as it does every morning, and I hit snooze, as I do every morning. But, before I could fall back into that uncomfortable, in-and-out of consciousness, knowing that I have to get up any minute now anyway because my kids will need me, sleep....the date caught my attention. September 27th...the 27th...Sissy was born on March 27th. That means sissy is...gasp...6 months old?! This isn't happening to me!
My NEWBORN all of the sudden turned 6 months old. In the blink of an eye. I should have known better; all of the signs were there. She is a rolling, scooting, sitting pro. She gobbles up her baby food and growls for more. She coos, she squeals, she laughs at everything her big sister does...and yet, I could have sworn she was only a few weeks old. Like I said, someone must have played a mean trick on me. Oh well, she is pretty dang cute no matter how old she may or may not be.
Tonight, right before her bedtime, we were doing our nurse-burp-cuddle routine. Jason hadn't yet left for work, and was sitting next to us. Sissy's eyes were getting heavy, and she had finally succumbed to resting her little (big) head on my chest. Just as she was millimeters away from drifting off to dreamland, she suddenly lifted her head and gave Jason the HUGEST grin I have possibly ever seen on a small (big) baby. With a smile on his own face, Jason said, "That face just made my life."

That statement, right there, pretty much sums up her role in our family. She is the most joyful baby. Her smile is like a big, warm, cuddly, blanket. No matter what kind of day you are having, the minute she sneaks you that enormous Joker-esque (except it's on a baby so it's cute and not at all scary, except when she paints her mouth red and says "let's put a smile on that face"...) smile, it just makes your hour, your day, your life, whatever...she is precious and jolly and makes us feel warm and fuzzy all over. We love her.