Sunday Photo

I try to take a photo of all my girls together each Sunday. Maybe I can collect them someday. And it helps force me to get them together in a photo at least once a week, far more than I ever did before. I just can't believe how quickly I will add one more to this group. Four? Am I equipped to handle those kind of numbers?

This weekend, Lill's language really exploded. It's shocking when your baby has lived on this earth for 20 months. All that time listening and learning, holding back, and on a random Saturday in her 20th month, something clicks inside her brain and she starts saying words on her own. Instead of repeating everything.

I gave her socks to put in her room and she said, "Ooh-Day!". And I almost collapsed. My squeals were heard around the block. We were driving and she saw an airplane in the sky. She pointed out the window and very clearly stated "Eh-Bane!" Jake almost ran off the road. We're so proud of her. So proud of the fact that this weekend was big for her. And she doesn't even know it. She went from talk-through-the-binkie-English to really taking control of her vocabulary. Somehow I think she was happier inside. Accomplished. Proud even of herself. What a little nugget.

All is good. We are lucky. Another week awaits us. There will be tantrums, both adult and child. Jake's birthday is on Tuesday, Ruby's on Thursday, and Grace's next Saturday. This equals excitement and joy for everyone but the mom. This equals more stress for me. That will hopefully equal excitement and joy when it's happening (or when it's over).

But I'm ready, bring it on.

New little haircuts

And that rim of chapped skin around Grace's lips? Exactly what I had when I was little.

Working from home.

My daughters are in love with their Dad. I mean, seriously. When he's home, it's heaven for them. Our littlest one even takes calls for him in the morning, how nice of her... He only works from home in the wee morning hours and then he heads to his office.

Some tidbits:

-Lillie is obsessed with food. She eats all the time. You cannot sit on the couch for longer than five minutes without her whining in despair at the foot of the pantry door. She loves eating. Jake and I think it's "hilarious". Sometimes.

-I am making 2009 into a blog book. It's so great to see my book take shape. Four years of blogging and I finally made a book. I'm using blurb.com. It's nice to have pictures printed along with text. Stories throughout our year, pictures flashing by so quickly that I can't believe a year is gone, just like that. I'm so glad I live in this age where I can blog. Would I ever print 500-something pictures, scrapbook them, and journal little bits of nonsense under each one by hand as the days go by? NO WAY. But I can print all of it out in a book. I kind of can't get over it.

-I'm in the market for a baby carrier. I have a bjorn but I want something more swaddly and closer to my body. I think I'll wear this baby a lot... I want a comfy way to strap her to me. And I usually swaddle my babies for months so I would like one that's snug and it can hold in the baby's arms and legs pretty good, but one that I can also use when she's older. If you have one that you LOVE, let me know which one and why you love it.

For my booshy girl.

Ruby,

Our relationship has a soundtrack. Beautiful music, some fun, some slow, some funky. Your music comes from your chest, pouring out of you, and wraps around me like a cocoon.

Did you choose me? Or did I choose you? Were you nervous to come here? Did you know how we would adore you?

Last night you and I went to the store together. You had a particularly emotional day and I wanted to get you alone. You're so dimensional. Like a planetarium. I could just stare at you and listen and wonder for hours.

You're a million shining stars.

You wanted to sing Christmas songs. But not the ones that most people know. These were the made-up kind. Where you sing in some convoluted melody and mixed in are words not of our language. They're formed somewhere in the back of your brain, only allowed to display themselves when you don't think many are listening. I laugh and you wonder what's so funny.

Today at a routine check-up, the pediatrician asked me lots of questions about you. I wish you could have seen yourself through my eyes. Some things are just so clear. The way he said you were, "75th percentile for height and weight and you look plenty healthy to him...". I measured you with my eyes, weighed you with my soul and your limitless potential swirled its way around my head. I felt heavier and lighter at the same time. How can I raise you? How can I not?

One moment I feel I don't deserve to be in the presence of someone so intricate. And the next, I want to clutch you so close to me that no living soul will realize how outstanding you are. If they did, they'd want your constant companionship, and I wouldn't give that up for anybody.

There are lots of reasons why I love you. The fact that you draw for hours and all your people have fingers and eyelashes and bows and headbands. The fact that you bite your nails, get canker sores, hate jelly, love pickles and cucumbers and broccoli, and how you tell me that you're pretty. The fact that you are in love with your daddy and draw pictures of him bringing you flowers. I love your skinny fingers and lips. I love how you give your life to Grace.

There are lots of reasons. But most of all, it's your mammoth-sized heart.

Friends

My best friend growing up, Laurel, visited me this weekend from Idaho. She came down with her two kids and stayed the whole weekend. I was in heaven. Mostly at night because the kids went to bed and we could binge eat and talk for hours and hours.

I am so lucky to have a friend like Laurel. When you know someone that long, there are no pretenses. There are no awkward silences. We know everything about each other. And it takes only a day or two to get caught up on the time we've recently spent apart while we lived on the east coast. Women need women. To open their hearts to, to share the little and the big, to commiserate, understand and empathize. I love it. She drove off an hour ago and I miss her already.

Laurel,
You're rad.
Thank you for coming.
Let's take better pictures together when my double-chin-from-chocolate goes away.

Gluttony.

27 weeks

It's hard work, gluttony. Takes focus, concentration, and deep breaths during meals. It's not an easy task gaining all the weight that I do. Sometimes after the kids go to bed, my Kitchenaid makes me treats. Often cookies. Sure, I have to measure the ingredients out, but Kitchie, she goes to work stirring my concoction, her motor running along with compassion and empathy. My finished product is then consumed anywhere from 9p.m. to 12a.m. And for breakfast and perhaps after lunch.

It's hard work, I tell you.

Most of the time.

My three treasure troves. All lined up watching a movie. All under one roof, still entertained by similar things. Lillie just starting to care about movies, Grace still interested in cartoons. mmmm. I imagine sitting on the couch in a few months, fifteen feet away, with my newborn daughter lightly breathing into my neck. It's going to be great. Most of the time. And I'm fine with most of the time.

Do you ever look at your babes, really look at them, and let their beauty wash over you? It's too much to handle most times. I think it's their milky white skin. Or how deep their eyes go. The way their hair sticks to their forehead. And my love for their lips is quite a heavy weight. And they deliver. They let me kiss them half to death. Especially that Ruby, she always has.

Grace goes back to school in the morning. She gives me a smirk when I bring it up, every Sunday evening, while I do a fake cry about her returning in the morning. She rolls her eyes a bit, giggles, and asks to make sure I'm including a juice box in her lunch.

And life just goes on and on.

Way too special for Kindergarten.

This girl. This little one. She's got mystery for brains. Jake and I are constantly shocked and surprised at the way she lives her life. Including the moment when she prayed to God for a new mattress. If that doesn't make us want to get one for her, I don't know what would.

The other night she told me that Moms are boring and Dads are fun. I know this is a fairly common sentiment among young children, so I didn't take it too personally. But I wanted to get to the bottom of what made her feel that way. So I asked her. She said I am mostly boring because I don't bend over and get things for her and I don't dance like a rock girl.

When my siblings come over to visit us, we turn on Youtube and go to town. We take turns dj-ing: Beyonce, Cyndi Lauper, Black-eyed Peas, Jay-Z, Regina Spektor. The kids dance, my family dances, we all throw out a couple of moves and do a little shouting. It's the way to get your weekend energy out on a Sunday evening. Apparently she's noticed that I don't dance exactly like Michael Jackson like my energetic, super-in-shape, non-pregnant brothers do. In her mind, it's a fair comparison.

She also mentioned to me that she likes my brother Gideon the best because he dances like a "rock guy" and Jared doesn't. Jared was very hurt. But I don't feel that bad. Jared, just be grateful that you worked your way into her subconscious somehow, that your name was even brought up. Because it takes effort with Ruby.

Sledding is dangerous.

I mean, they go FLYING down that hill. So fast. I swear they can't even breathe. It scares me, but they're in those bucket-like sleds and it helps them stay a little safer.

But who knew sledding would be dangerous for me? Especially when I don't even ride a sled. When we decided to leave, I walked across the cement pavilion and tripped over a metal hook that stuck up from the ground and fell straight onto my knees and hands. I was holding Lillie's hand and she biffed it as well. Her eskimo jacket narrowly saved her from injury.

I sustained traumatic emotional wounds. Including but not limited to falling when I'm pregnant (scary, risky, scary), and smashing the front of my 50mm lens which was attached to the camera hanging from my neck. It doesn't focus now. I was (am) heartbroken. Now I have to shoot everything in F/4 for the time being. Super duper lame.

On a lighter note, after an overwhelmingly exhausting week, we went to the Visitor's Center on Temple Square and happened to watch a wonderful video presentation upstairs on the values of family. I learned that the most important things to teach our babies, our children, is that they're loved. And that they're a Child of God. How simple is that?

That I can do.