Important Questions

Ever since Max could say "mama" and "dada," I've asked him this important question: "Who loves you?" Obviously the answer that I am going for is "Mommy." I feel that there must be some reward for the poop-filled diapers, sticky windows, misplaced toys, broken electronics and melted crayons. For a while now, when I would ask him he would say, "Daddy" and then giggle like crazy. He knew what I was wanting and thought it was hilarious to deny me. Today we are back to "Mommy" and I am quite pleased. Maybe he felt guilty about the brick he dropped in his pants today while we were shopping?

P.S. I just literally licked my plate. How old am I? Seriously.

Ella

Yesterday, I took Ella down to Sunrise Hospital to see her pediatric cardiologist. It was a check-up to make sure there wasn't any heart damage from her infamous bout with Rheumatic fever. She is fine much to my relief and hers. She wasn't worried about heart problems though, she was more concerned about getting "poked with a needle." Walking out of the Dr.'s office, with her hand in mine and the good news in my heart, I felt profoundly grateful for her little self. Sunrise Hospital is where I spent the worse week of my life. I was pregnant with Ella and the sickest I've ever been. Ella was not doing well. In fact, the neonatologist told me that I needed to have an emergency c-section one night or my baby wouldn't survive. (He was a charmer.) That news was absolutely devastating to me.

Kate's birth 16 months earlier had been difficult and filled with medical problems for both of us. Kate was not a happy baby. She was colicky and I was convinced she was always in pain. She was constantly sick and miserable. I don't know if I can fully explain how this made me feel. I felt guilt over her birth. Guilt that I couldn't breast feed her and that combined with a gigantic lack of sleep made my feelings overwhelming and haunting. I knew that I did not want to do that again. I wanted so much to give this new baby (Ella) a good start in life.

I prayed and prayed for her and for me. I thought about the blessing Robert had given me before he had left for NYC. I was able to decision influenced by the Lord it gave me strength to tell the Doctor that I was not having my baby that night. He told me all sorts of horrible things. It was weird because I heard the words but they had no affect on my feelings. It was if I was wrapped a couple of times in bubble wrap and protected from his words. I knew the decision I made was the right one.

And walking out of that building with Ella, hand in hand, discussing the type of treat she was entitled to after her "ordeal"--All those feelings came together for me again and I wanted to drop to my knees right there and thank the Lord for the blessing of my Ella.

And on a completely random, tone changing side note, here are a couple of things Ella has said lately:

Me: You kids stop your fighting. In fact, I don't want you to even talk right now. Your driving me crazy. (I was trying to get us packed and out of our hotel room)

Ella: But Mom, I am trying to work this out in a good way.

I listened for a minute, and she was! I stand rebuked.

She was funny at the baptism meeting the other night. They were talking about forgiveness and the answer to the question she was asked was clearly "forgive". Instead of giving the typical, memorized answer, she thought about it for a while (an uncomfortable while, I was sure I was going to have to whisper the answer in her ear and all the parents would think that I do not teach my children anything!) and replied to the scenario given that she would explain how she felt to this person, ask them not to do it again and then try to forgive them. She is so funny.

I love you Ella-beans!

Disneyland

Max had a thing for Goofy.

We waited way to long for this pic.

You can't go to Disneyland and not ride the teacups. Unless you are already sick from riding Space Mountain. :)

Kate training to be a Jedi. She successfully defeated Darth Mal. The force is strong with her.

G.G. and Mickey Mouse. It took a little convincing to get this picture.

This trip to Disneyland was wonderful. Robert was suppose to be in Singapore but surprised us at our hotel the night before so he could come with us. My Grandma came with us just like old times. The park was not crowded. The kids were happy. It was seriously awesome! I have to say that my Grandma went on Space Mountain. Yep, she's pretty cool. Jackson held Grandpa's hand on the scary rides, just like I used to hold my Grandpa's hand. I have such happy memories of good times at Disney land. This is one of them now.

California Adventure

The kids loved the parade at California Adventure. I think Max loved the Toy Story float because he knew the characters from his pull-ups. He also had an unusual fondness for Mr. Potato head that I cannot explain.

"My bubbies"

Parade watching

An exercise in faith. Max was the driver. He loved it! I felt a little out of control. Is this what it is like to have a teenager?

Grandma and Max=Love

Aunt Michelle, Max and me. Girls in the background. Merry-go-rounds are not boring.

My buddy.

A little bit of fancy, and an excuse...

So, I know that everyone (all 5 of you) who reads my blog wanted to see pictures of my dress. I am wearing it in a couple of the following photos but it is hard to see. I was going to have someone take a picture of me in the dress at the reception but I ended up chasing my toddler/5 year old around. Max had a great time grabbing strangers legs, helping himself to food, crawling under tables and following babies around. He also liked throwing himself on the floor at random feet and rolling. On a positive note, he played his role as a human lint roller well and kept the floor spotless! I guess that is what 2 days of no naps and a late bedtime will do and since I was sans husband there was no one else to chase the little beggar. Sorry, I do my best. :)

Isn't my sister beautiful? You can't even tell that her 3 year old daughter woke up at 5 a.m.

My sister's handsome little guy. Can you tell I'm about ready to take those cheeks on!

The wedding riff-raff.

The whole family minus a Robert.

I'm glad he can relax!

May I present to you...Mr. & Mrs. Hayes!

After a run-in with the law (this deserves it's own post) and a California-style blizzard, a Max-style temper tantrum, and a few whiny children I made it to Irvine for the wedding of my brother and his beautiful bride. It was wonderful to see my brother so happy! I loved watching him during the sealing. He couldn't keep his eyes off his wife. Ah, love.

Speaking of love, I hope Meredith will still love him when he leaves the toilet seat up and she gets up in the middle of the night to (ahem) and finds herself in a wet predicament. It has been known to happen before. Hopefully, she won't mind that he likes to bound across the room rather than walk. This can sound alarmingly like a herd of elephants if you happen to be in the basement while this event is taking place. Luckily, she will not have to worry about him yelling into the phone "It's a boy" whenever a member of the opposite sex calls her. Well, I guess since I still love him, she probably will too.

I love you, Mikie. Congratulations!

Meredith: Welcome, welcome to the family! I hope you don't mind that I didn't share the above information before. I didn't want to scare you off. I really wanted you for a sister. :) Always check the toilet seat in the middle of the night! Should I have told you this before the honeymoon? Love you!

Adventures in Religion

I walked in confident that everyone knew that I had purchased my boots at Marshall's, my shirt at the Gap and well, I picked up my jeans at the ward Christmas swap two years ago. The sales girls looked me over with a practiced eye and let me walk by. Normally, I might have felt awkward enough to turn around and walk out of the over-priced department store and return to the Target-corner from whence I came. But today was different, I had a little nugget of gold in the form of a gift card in my purse, a wedding in a week, a full fledged dress emergency and knowledge I would not return to this haven for all things pricey for many haute couture seasons. I made up mind while fingering a Louis Vuitton purse that I was going to enjoy this experience. How hard can it be to spend someone else's money? I picked up dresses with price tags that would normally bring a good gag reflex. I twirled around the racks while designer names I had never heard of before swirled around in my brain. I soon became dizzy and overwhelmed. Where was that familiar red dot? So when the sales lady asked if she could help me, I enthusiastically agreed. She was skilled, I will give her that. She took my measure in a glance and picked the absolutely perfect dress. I tried it on and it was true love. I felt skinny. I am not over exaggerating here. It was if I had met the perfect man, well almost perfect man. He, I mean, it was a couple inches too short. It was Jr. High at the Valentine's dance all over again--dancing with boys whose eyes were the same level as my chest. (Perhaps, the reason for my sudden popularity?) Curse my height! I knew I would never love another dress like this one. I expressed this to the kind but confused sales lady--Linda.

"You must have it. It was made for you!" she exclaimed.

"I know" I said, sorrowfully.

"Well, what's the problem, then?"

"It's too short."

"Really? With a pair of heels and some hose it will look fantastic."

Oh, how do I explain to my sweet Linda that no pair of hose will cover 2 inches of white garment hanging out. (I triple rolled them before Linda came into the dressing room.) How could I explain the horror of the temple matrons when I walked into the sealing room literally wearing my religion. I mumbled something about small children and bending over. Linda, smelling a disappearing sale, quickly suggested we call a tailor to see if the dress could be lengthened. It was the exact same feeling I felt when I realized the boys had finally grown and now I was looking at their chests. I grinned and said, "Okay."

Apparently in expensive department stores they don't want to give you much time to think/change your mind because the seamstress arrived almost immediately. With middle eastern european gusto, she explained that the dress could be lengthened a little bit but couldn't understand why I would want to change a beautiful dress. I believe the word, "matronly" came out of her mouth. Aghast, I explained about the bending, etc. Never, ever say the word matronly to a thirty-something!! Seriously, offensive. "It will be fine with hose." Did these two consult before they came in? Were they in cahoots? Nazi seamstress then demanded I try on the dress. I agreed but she would not leave the dressing room. I was mortified. There was no way I was displaying my religion. I had to ask her to leave the room while I changed. She gave me a weird look but complied. Could this experience be any more embarrassing? "It looks good. Why you change?" Finally, I explained about my religious undergarments, etc. She looked at me like I was a member of the Taliban. Nevertheless, Ms. Tailor decided she would help me.

I am now the fortunate owner of the dress, lengthened, of course. However, I may be scarred for life.