Introducing...

Baby Claire!

Born Sunday, December 19th at 1:58 a.m. 6 lbs 5 ounces 19 1/2 inches long




More pictures to come! She's adorable, she's happy, and she's finally here! We're in love with her!

The Baddest Mom

I have a confession. I've done some bad things today. Maybe the worst things I've ever done. And I have done some pretty bad things in my life...

Like when I was in second grade and repeatedly tried to tempt my neighbor and fellow classmate into eating holiday treats and singing holiday songs, knowing full well that she was a Jehovah's Witness and was not permitted to do such things.

And when I was ten, I was on a baby-sitting job, chowing down on my fourth popsicle when I heard the parents come in the door. Too embarrassed for them to see that I'd raided their freezer, I shoved my popsicle under the couch before they walked into the living room. (I know, I'm an idiot.) I wonder if they were able to get the unsightly purple stain out of the carpet when they moved out? I guess I'll never know...

Anyway, my actions this afternoon have been much, much worse. At this moment, both of my daughters are in their rooms wallowing in their misfortune of having me as their mother. I said no to cookies for breakfast. I vetoed Katelyn's wardrobe selection because I felt it was missing something (like... sleeves?) I refused to give Emily paper and crayons unless she asked politely, and also wouldn't allow her to wear her new church dress while scribbling with markers. Oh yeah, and I also forbid them to jump off the couches or stick their fingers in the candle that's burning on the mantle. Like I said, terrible, TERRIBLE things...

It's no wonder I was just crowned with the title as "The Baddest Mom". In the mean time, I'm making the most of the silent treatment the girls are giving me. (Is that supposed to be a punishment? Ouch.) I wonder what they'll think of me when I tell them I'm putting them to bed at 6 o'clock tonight.

Close

Lately I am really glad I had these two so close in age. They are best little buddies and they just love each other. They have their sisterly squabbles and like to push each other's buttons, but mostly they are inseparable. They have come a long way since the days when Katelyn used to suggest taking Emily to the zoo with the intent of having Emily get eaten by the bears.

File This Under "Creepy"...

Just when I thought I had everything I need for my new little bundle, in come these incredibly odd (and rather disturbing) products on the market.


Baby Bangs- Look how natural these look! I'm sure that infants without hair are very insecure. Really? I will laugh out loud at the first parent of a baby I see wearing this.


I can appreciate the concept of wanting to keep your baby close and cozy, but I'd prefer to find another way that doesn't make me look like I'm in a scene from an alien movie.


How safe does this look? This looks like some sort of torture device. This straps onto a single hook in public bathrooms to keep your arms free. Yikes. I'm thinking, RECALL. And LAW SUIT.


Could this get any creepier? Pillows designed to "resemble human hands" to keep baby secure. Whose hands and arms look like this? Hot dog fingers. This image is nothing short of haunting.

To Brighten Your Day...

Some days a girl just needs to throw all her motherly guilt out the window and laugh a little. Anne Taintor's work always does it for me. My mom and I get the biggest kick out of these. Here are a just a few.. Enjoy!

Ick

What used to be my favorite day before I had kids.... is now my LEAST favorite day. Setting our clocks back tonight means that when Emily rises at her usual 6:00 in the morning tomorrow, it will really be 5:00. I'm girding up my loins for a VERY. LONG. DAY.

Brut

Still in the Halloween spirit, I conjured up a memory from a high school costume dance I'd roped some poor sucker into going to with me my junior year. We had pizza and pop for dinner at someone's house, and all the girls were taking turns in the bathroom getting freshened up to head to the dance. While in the bathroom, I decided that I smelled a little gamey. Having little sense of respect for other's property, I rummaged through the bathroom drawers looking for some sort of scented lotion or body spray to mask the stench of myself. I finally came across a tiny bottle of unmarked perfume and helped myself to a few dabs of it on my neck. Much better. My date and I piled into a minivan with three other couples and started driving to the school.

After a couple of minutes in the car, one of the guys said, "Man, what is that smell? " We all sniffed around, trying to identify the aroma in question. "It smells like Brut cologne," said another guy. A third opinion voiced, "Yeah, that's what it is. Who is wearing Brut?" I shifted in my seat, sorely wishing I'd have actually taken a whiff of the "perfume" before applying it so generously. I have decided though, that this mishap may have been a blessing in disguise. For this dance, I was donned in my full chamoflauge gear and arm tattoos, and maybe looked darn near irresistible. And I am certain that without the offensive repellent of Brut coming off my skin, my date would probably not have been able to keep his distance from me as well as he managed to that night.

Doctor Visit

Yesterday morning Katelyn woke up with a swollen shut eyeball. It was puffy, red, and sealed closed with orange goop. (Is that graphic enough for you?) Her condition required a special trip to the doctor, which is always a favorite. I've decided that the doctor's office should adopt the same policy as Domino's pizza: "30 minutes or less, or your appointment is free." I'm not much more well behaved in the waiting room than the girls are. I chuckled at the sign on the wall which read "No Food Or Drink", and thought if they actually expected us to refrain from eating for an hour and a half they were crazy. I let the girls go to town on my purse full of goodies.

The doc was concerned that Katelyn's symptoms could be the beginning of cellulitis. This sounded like a proper term for the disease that is currently plaguing my thighs, but apparently it something entirely different. And it had potential of becoming serious. Long story short, the nurse came in and told Katelyn that she was going to give her two shots "that would really, really hurt." Apparently it's one of the most painful shots they administer. Judging from the screams and tears coming from Katelyn, the nurse was right. I hate needles and getting shots myself, but what's even worse is watching your own child have to experience such "discomfort."

Boo-Yah!

My Grams had a Halloween party last weekend. The three little girls all went as butterflies- really cute ones, if I do say so. The Saturday night trick-or-treating experience left a lot to be desired. It was sprinkling on us when we headed out at 5:00. By 6:00 it had turned into a shower. Each of the girls were carrying an umbrella in one hand (no, Eric and I were NOT allowed to hold the umbrellas for the girls) and their loot bucket in the other hand. The details of the trek are not important. I'll just make note that in 45 minutes we only knocked on ten doors. Then the girls had had their fill, so we called it a night. On the upside, the downpour kept trick-or-treaters from ringing our own doorbell, which left us with no other choice but to make sure that the candy we'd purchased to hand out did not go wasted.

Grandpa and the 3 Little Butterflies - Katelyn, Bayla, and Emily


Ready to knock on some doors!


Happy Halloween 2010!

Saying Goodbye...

Is hard. Today we had to say goodbye to our family dog of 13 years. Sleep well, Rocky. We love you and we'll miss you.
(Most of my recent pictures are of Emily and Rocky. They were never far from each other when we visit Grandma and Grandpa's house.)


Emily joined Rocky in his dog bed occasionally.


Emily always has treats. Rocky loves treats. So Rocky loves Emily.


Just Good company.

Letters To Life

I have seen this done on several blogs, so of course I am copying. Since I feel incapable of coming up with something original these days. Here are my letters to life:

Dear Next Door Neighbor,
I know perfectly well that the in-n-outs of mysterious cars throughout the week are your drug dealers. I'm not as dumb as you think I am.

Dear Linoleum Floor,
You are disgusting. Even though I just mopped you. You are, and forever will be, Gross.

Dear Noodles& Company,
Thank you for feeding me every week. And for not scolding me when my girls go hog wild with the salt and pepper shakers on your tables.

Dear Baskin Robbins,
I am so glad you are my neighbor, making it so easy to consume mass amounts of your mint chocolate chip.

Dear Church Calling,
You are my favorite. Ever.

Dear Jeans,
I'm glad you don't fit me so I have an excuse not to wear you.

Dear Warm-Ups,
You're always there for me when I want to be comfy. In short, you are ALWAYS there for me.

Dear Maternity Store,
Please stop asking me for the following whenever I visit you: my due date, phone number, address, email address, facebook account, social security number, urine sample... (Ok, I'm getting a tiny bit carried away. Just let me buy my stretchy pants and get out:)

Dear YouTube,
I've discovered you to be useful as you provide me with several rerun episodes of Frasier every night before I go to bed.

Dear Katelyn,
Stop growing. I'm not ready to let you out into this crazy world.

Dear Emily,
How did you master that smile that so often gets you out of trouble?

Dear Baby Girl,
I hope you're easygoing, cause you've got two high maintenance big sisters. But you'll love them.

Dear Jack Bauer,
Please just ONE more season? Please, please!

Dear Comcast,
I'm sorry for writing RIP-OFF CABLE in angry, bold letters on my checks every month. But really, how can you charge that much for finicky internet?

Dear Hair,
Someday maybe I will stop making you be something you are not- blonde.

Dear Treadmill,
I'm sorry you are getting very dusty. And lonely. Someday my friend, we will spend more time together.

Dear Neighbors,
Why must you all have big, noisy dogs? Is it your way of getting back at me for having such loud children? At least I don't let them wander through your yards and leave messes.

Dear Target,
Could you please start doling out child sedatives at your entrance to make my shopping experience more enjoyable?

Sincerely,
Me.

Don't Disappoint Me

It's come to my attention that one of the most classic movies of all time is undergoing a remake. It's no secret how I feel about True Grit. I did in fact grow up with a large painting of Rooster Cogburn on my bedroom wall (which didn't exactly blend well with the soft pink and green tones), and there still hangs an epic portrait of Rooster in my family's basement. Respect the Marshall. I could be a tad overdramatic by labeling this remake a travesty. But in my opinion, there has yet to be a modern day movie remake that lived up to the original film. I personally don't think True Grit should be tampered with. I have nothing against Jeff Bridges, but I have my doubts as to whether he can live up to the roll of Grit. Arguably, no one can ever replace The Duke. Could I watch this new take without comparing him to John Wayne? I don't think I can. (Fun fact: His actual name is Marion Morrison. Betcha didn't know that!) Anyway, I'm afraid I could be in for a disappointment. Some things are better left alone.

The Son and the Moon

I need to post this Katelyn-ism before I forget, even though it's technically old news. Before our ultrasound, Katelyn asked me one night if I hoped the baby would be a boy or a girl.

Me: "It doesn't matter. I love having girls, but since I already have two, it might be fun to have a son." (I was trying to maintain a neutral front.)

Katelyn: "Huh?"

Me: "I said, it might be fun to have a son."

After thinking about it for a minute, Katelyn looked up at me and asked, "Does that mean that me and Emily are your moons?"

I'm still laughing about it. I do love my two moons.

Life's About To Get a Little More...

Yep, baby girl #3 is on her way! She'll be here just in time for Christmas. Should I have been disappointed that it's not a boy? Because I'm not:) I've always wanted a house full of girls. As for Eric, well... he's getting used to the idea. We can't wait to meet our third daughter!



Safe journey, little one!

Sunday Pains

Don't let this fool you:



Whoever said that "Sunday is a Day of Rest" clearly was not the mother of toddler. The prospect of preparing for sacrament meeting with Emily each week gives me anxiety. My main objective on the Sabbath is to simply make it from the opening hymn to the closing prayer without any major meltdowns. This involves pulling out all the stops. New toys, candy, whatever.... It is only a matter of survival.

Today I barely managed to make it. No sooner did Emily and I enter the chapel to join Katelyn and Eric on the bench they'd saved for us, did outbursts ensue. Sometimes I think I gave birth to the loudest child on the earth. And her volume in a quiet chapel seems magnified by fifty. My bribes of chocolate and Skittles did nothing to console her. After several choruses of shrieking whines, I figured I had to get Emily out of there before the bishop came down and threw us out himself. Hard as I was trying to keep my cool, I'm afraid the manner in which I seized Emily off the bench, followed by our exit of perhaps irreverent demeanor, gave members of my ward family the impression that Emily would not be returning alive.

The sacrament was brought out to us in the hallway, though heaven knows the terrible things going through my head could have disqualified me from partaking of it. Once Emily had settled down (and her mother as well), we gave the meeting another shot. Immediately upon seating ourselves, Emily empties a box of Care Bear cards and uses them as confetti.

"I am quitting church!" I hissed at Eric. No argument from him. And I'm almost positive that the family in front of us was nodding in joyous agreement at my statement. I'm certain the poor families who are seated by us each week would fully support my decision to never darken the doors of the chapel with Emily again.

Any other moms out there feel like THIS on Sundays?

Memoirs of the Fourth

We actually CELEBRATED the fourth this year, by letting Katelyn stay up late and go to the fireworks at USU. She LOVED it, and had this magical smile on her face the whole time. (My eyes were more on her than the fireworks, cause I've never seen her look quite that way before. It was a hoot to see her reaction.) We already can't wait for next year, and maybe we'll take Emily along for the fun next time.

In the afternoon I took Katelyn up to my Grams' house for a little bit of "Kid's Camp". My Grandma Brown opens up her home every summer for 2 weeks (sometimes more) for all her grandkids to come and stay for some fun. She plans games, picnics, activities, treasure hunts, crafts, you name it. Did I mention that she also makes three square meals a day for EVERYONE? She's been doing this since I was about 6 or 7. Twenty something years later, she's still doing it. For a LOT of grandkids. Tell me that she doesn't deserve some kind of award. She's the best, amazing. Some of my youngest cousins are Katelyn's age and they're great to include her in everything. I still love going up for a bit of Kid's Camp, but it always makes me nostalgic- and homesick for my childhood.

A few shots from the fireworks:





Katelyn- looking completely natural


Eating brownies with cousin Kaura


Sparklers.... the extent of Emily's celebration

Dads

I feel guilty because I dropped the ball on doing this for Mother's Day. (But my mom knows I couldn't get along without her and that she is undoubtedly my best girlfriend EVER:) A shout out to the dads in my life:

First, this one: Greatest Dad


There is no one who does not like my dad. If there was such a thing as "Too Nice", he would be it. He is everyone's friend, mentor, counselor, and go-to guy. My brothers and I joke that he is everyone's dad, because wherever we went as kids, my dad befriended every other child in the vicinity and included them in our activities. (While their own fathers lazily sat by and watched.) At family gatherings, my dad is the man who's not reclining in a lawn chair, but rather playing and making up games for all the young cousins and showing them a good time. Several of my high school friends admitted their jealousy at how lucky I am to have this Dad. And I'd have to agree. (You've got to admit, my mom married quite a handsome fella:)

And to the dad of my daughters:




Eric was raised in a home with- in his words- "emotional women", which has given him superior training in handling female drama. There is no better man to be a father of girls. He has never ending patience, and willingness to listen to chit chat for hours on end. I have a feeling this will come in very handy as our girls grow into adolescence. It already comes in handy when it comes to listening to every random thought and story I want to share. Lately, there have been two things that he's been especially good for. 1- Throwing the girls 15 feet in the air (the first thing the girls beg him to do when he gets home.) 2- Storytelling (particularly tales from J.R.R.R.R. Tolkien.) Who else is going to tell Katelyn about the Lord of the Rings Trilogy? Certainly not me.

Everyone needs a good Dad in their life. Happy Father's Day!

Locked Out

Today when we returned home from Katelyn's swimming lessons, I unlocked the side door to let Katelyn and Emily in the house so I could unload my purse and Happy Meals from the car. Anxious to get inside and make a quick trip to the bathroom, I heard the side door close with a click. Emily had locked me out, and was in possession of my keys. I jiggled the doorknob, and knocked on the door. "Emily!" I called. "Let mom in!" After several failed attempts, I shouted for Emily to get Katelyn to unlock the door.

"Katelyn in her room!" Emily yelled back.

"Go and tell her to come out!" I heard Emily run to the other side of the house and bang on Katelyn's door. Judging from Emily's frustrated screams, I knew Katelyn had refused to open her bedroom door and most likely told Emily to go away.

This scenario repeated itself 10 times- Emily running away to retrieve Katelyn with no success and returning to scream for me through the door. I banged on the door and shouted (as loud as I dared, knowing some of my neighbors were home) for one of my daughters to unlock the bolt and let me in, to no avail. I nervously looked over my shoulder to make sure none of my neighbors were catching a glimpse of me beating the door and doing as mild a potty dance as I could manage. As ten minutes ticked by, I wondered what on earth was keeping Katelyn in her room for so long. If only she knew that I was locked outside, holding her Happy Meal and on the verge of an accident.

Fifteen minutes later, the side door opens, with Katelyn standing proudly on the other side.

"Where have you been?" I asked her. "I've been locked out here this whole time!"

"I know," she said. "Sorry, I was just trying to find the right outfit to wear."

I paused and turned to look at her with wide eyes. "You KNEW I was locked outside?"

"Yeah," she answered, in a (Duh, of course I knew) tone.

"You should have let me in," I semi-scolded.

"I TOLD you, I was trying to find the right OUTFIT to wear!" She shrieked, exasperated.

"So what did you do, order it online and wait for it to be delivered?"

"Huh?" She answered.

I sighed heavily, and scribbled myself a note to make another spare house key.

No Soliciting

Our neighborhood gets hit pretty hard by door-to-door salesmen, especially in the summertime. I've developed a soft spot for these hard workers, having a little brother who's done summer sales and knowing how tough this line of work can be. However, being at home alone with the girls most of the time, I'm not exactly comfortable opening my door to complete strangers. In order to save myself from having to hide in the bedroom or simply pretend I don't speak English every time one of these salesmen comes to my door, I recently created my own "No Soliciting" sign and stuck it by the doorbell. Imagine my surprise when my doorbell rang the other day, and I opened it to be greeted by a trio of neighborhood girls.

"Want to buy some lemonade?" They asked eagerly.

"Sorry ladies," I answered. I shrugged my shoulders helplessly and jerked my thumb towards my "No Soliciting" sign. One of them let out an exasperated huff, and another just frowned at me.

"But you KNOW us!"

"Oh, all right," I sighed, turning to go into the kitchen to fetch a quarter. When I returned and presented my payment, I was responded to by a look of complete insult.

"THIS lemonade costs 50 CENTS," they informed me. I sized up the serving of liquid and ice inside the cup they were selling me.

"Fifty cents!?" I made another trip to scrounge up a second quarter. (You know you're in a sorry financial state when you have to buy your neighborhood lemonade on TWO payments.)

"You can keep the cup," one of them offered generously.

After wrapping up our business dealing, I took a sip of what I suspected to be a helping of tap water flavored with a couple squirts of lemon juice. "How do you sleep at night!?" I cried out as they skipped down the sidewalk, fifty cents richer, and no doubt pleased with the outcome of their sales pitch. I think a need a bigger sign.

Mall Musings

For a lack of something better to post about:

The biggest obstacle of going to the mall is dodging all of the kiosk workers once I'm inside. They remind me of the Lagoon game employees who always jump out at you, brandishing oversized pink giraffes in your face to rope you into shelling out $5 to throw a ring around a bottle.

Usually I can manage to avoid these pesky mall salesmen by speeding down the halls with both of my girls in the double stroller and avoiding eye contact. Today when we got to the mall, I groaned when I opened the trunk and saw that I only had my single stroller on hand. Meaning Katelyn would have to go on foot. Meaning we'd be moving at a snail's pace. Meaning, I would be an easy target for the kiosk pests. Like a lame tiger in the jungle; I wouldn't stand a chance. Sure enough, Katelyn's speed had us all moving as slow as cold tar, giving the impression that I was just out for a leisurely stroll. Every sales pitcher's dream. Little did they know, my only point of interest in the entire mall was a stop at the food court for hot dogs on a stick.

We moved like a herd of turtles as I shot down one amazing offer after another. Mineral face masks, nail polish that changes color in the sun, Asian art, Asian neck massage (which I'd have considered had I been alone), and bejeweled coin purses. It was clear through Emily's back arching and impatient snorting that she had had quite enough of the stroll. But could that stop the persistent kiosk nerds? NEVER!!!

Tell me, what is it about a mother with a fussy toddler that says, "Stop me and attempt to give me a 15 minute demonstration on how to attach hair extensions?" The only welcome peddler we encountered was a woman from the Nordstrom cafe, who approached us with a tray full of strawberry smoothie samples. Now that I can handle.

Yes, I Can!

To all of you naysayers who claimed I could not pull off a Carol Brady coif, I say you to- BEHOLD! Admit you were wrong. Because this is hot. Hot, I tell you!



I've come to the conclusion that I could handle the 'do's of many other lovable T.V. mothers. Feast your eyes on the breathtaking possibilities...


Lucy Ricardo- Why have I never thought to go the redhead route? Stunning. Absolutely stunning.


Claire Huxtable- I do believe this style suits me nicely


June Cleaver- I may not wear pearls while I vacuum. Ok, I may not even vacuum at all. But how very demure this looks.


Kate Gosselin- Everyone's doing it. But they really shouldn't.


Halle Berry- Not exactly a TV wife/mother, but I couldn't resist this one.

Where's Alice When I Need Her?

My mom will probably read this and wonder why I'm complaining, since messes didn't bother me in the least when I was growing up under her roof. What can I say? I've matured to develop an intolerance for extreme clutter. And I seem to grow more incapable of keeping up with my two destructo daughters. I am only one woman. And I'm no match for my offspring. No sooner do I finish mopping up a puddle of chocolate milk does a bowl of goldfish crackers suddenly appear (ground into the carpet). I swear that our Fisher Price Little People are multiplying and replenishing the living room, because there's no way I could have picked up the SAME ONES 10 times today.... could I? I love Emily's artwork- just not on the walls. Katelyn's obsession with changing outfits repeatedly throughout the day is endearing- the extra laundry is not. I'd decided that enough was enough the other day when I walked into the kitchen and stumbled over a pile of plastic princess figurines and nearly collapsed onto the sticky, juice spotted linoleum. "I am hiring a housekeeper!" I snapped, as I forcefully chucked Cinderella, Ariel, and Snow White into the living room. "That's right," I confirmed the fear in Eric's eyes, "I'm losing it!"

That night as I gathered up the princesses I'd launched, Cinderella seemed to look up sadly at me with her painted on eyes. "I'm not sorry," I told her indignantly. "You of all people should know how I feel."

I asked myself how mothers with more than 2 children manage to keep a tidy house? Like Carol Brady, for instance. Then I remembered that Carol Brady didn't do a dang thing. She had Alice. Wasn't Alice terrific? She was so perky and chipper, (most likely from the harsh cleaning fumes she's been sniffing), but what does it matter? She cooked and picked up after six kids, put up with Mike's dim-witted jokes and moronic inuendo about her boyfriend Sam, and made meatloaf full of lard. And even though I thought the Brady house was hideous, it was always spic and span. Thanks to good ol' Alice. How I wish she'd dust off her baby blue uniform and blazing white orthodox sneakers and come work for us.

I'm almost convinced that if I had one of these:


Eric and I would be as happy as this:


With any luck, the hours I'd save on cleaning would allow me time to achieve Carol's perfectly coifed hairdo.