Mary at the park

Last Saturday morning we squeezed in an hour at the park before it rained. Here are a few pictures of Mary.



David was there too, but he was too busy to have his picture taken.

Thankful

Tonight during Family Home Evening we talked about all the things for which we should be thankful to our Heavenly Father. We listed flowers, giraffes, houses, bears, church, snow, the moon, pineapples, and owls. We also talked about how we can tell God in our prayers what we are thankful for.

Later, when I was putting David to bed and getting ready to say a prayer, I thought to stop and ask him what we should be thankful for. "David, we should tell Heavenly Father what you are thankful for. What do you want to thank Heavenly Father for in your prayer?"

Without skipping a beat, he exclaimed, "Jesus!" To be honest, I was a little surprised--we hadn't specifically talked about being thankful for Jesus, and I was expecting something more along the lines of garbage trucks or pancakes. But when he said it, he knew he had thought of it on his own, and he knew he was giving me the ultimate answer, which indeed it is. He had said it with such simple sincerity too. I had to give him a big hug.

I am thankful to David for reminding me to be thankful for Jesus!

John 3:16

Date night

Every Friday is date night!

It consists of a grocery store, two children, two shopping carts, and two separate lists.

I like our date night. Here's why.

1. I feel no obligation to do the weekly grocery shopping alone with the kids during the week. (If this were the case, we would probably starve. Or eat out every day.)
2. We don't have to wonder what we're going to do Friday night.
3. We avoid the hassle and expense of a babysitter.
4. We get to bed at a reasonable hour on Friday night, since our kids haven't yet learned that Saturday is for sleeping in.
5. Did I mention that because of date night I don't have to grocery shop alone with the kids?
6. Date night is a very efficient way to grocery shop--the whole two lists, two carts thing.
7. I don't have to carry in the groceries, or put them away, for that matter.
8. I feel a sense of camaraderie with the other couples with young children who spend their Friday evenings the same way we do. (There are quite a few of us, I've noticed.)
9. Greg has an opportunity every week to stock up on packaged cookies (like Oreos or ChipsAhoy--yuck) and choose his own PowerBar flavors.
10. It's actually kind of a fun family outing. If we go to Meijer, David can blow kisses to the lobsters and ride a horse, and I can buy a 32 oz. fountain drink for 99 cents. And if we go to the commissary...well, I hate the commissary, so I enjoy having the company, especially the adult conversation in the car on the way there and back.

You may sense just a hint of sarcasm, and that I can't deny. But I have to say, without any irony, that I really don't mind "date night" in its current form. Sure, Greg and I laugh about how pathetic our lives are right now. But we also know that this won't last forever. Life is one phase after another. I have come to realize that it's easier (and more enjoyable) to embrace the phase you happen to be in, rather than fight it. Friday night grocery shopping has become a happy little family tradition. Someday we'll have "real" date nights, but, for now, we are fine with sharing date night with our kids in a grocery store. So if you were wondering if I have plans for Friday night, the answer is yes.

Love affair

I am crazy, madly in love with Mary. I want to squeeze her and hug her and kiss her to pieces.

And she never ceases to amaze me. Yesterday while we were rolling around on the floor during David's nap, she invented a game. She would suck on her pacifier, take it out, give it me, I would grab it from her, and she would grab it right back, stick it in her mouth, suck on it, and start all over. This was hilarious, for her and me. But the point of this post is not how clever she thinks she is, or how brilliant I think she is:

I only want to say that I love, love, LOVE my baby girl.

Air Force wife

This afternoon David, Mary, and I went to the Air Force Museum again. (David woke up with that need to "drive" an airplane.) As we were wandering around the planes, I felt a kind of affection for them. Yes, affection. I was a little surprised, and then I remembered that I am, indeed, an Air Force wife. I don't often think of myself as an "Air Force wife"--mostly because there are other things that I think shape my identity more (and, also, I was once traumatized by a poem printed in a retirement program).

As an Air Force wife, I feel that I should have certain rights and privileges not afforded to my civilian counterparts. For example,

1. As an Air Force wife, I know that the sign at the Air Force Museum prohibiting food and drink does not apply to me. (But I am discreet with our water and graham crackers.)
2. As an Air Force wife, I should get 2 votes in the November election. (And if I get 2, Army wives should probably get about 12.)

Most of all, I feel that Secretary Gates should consult with me personally on a regular basis. I could give him some advice on, say, the refueler tanker contract, privatized housing, or the fighter-jock culture. So what if all of my information comes from The New York Times and my husband? Those are better sources than our current president uses for his decision-making. Secretary Gates seems like a reasonable, no-nonsense kind of guy, and I think we could get along well. I feel that I am an obvious resource for the Pentagon, and I'm a little surprised I haven't been called yet. Who knows. Maybe I will be the new Secretary of the Air Force, seeing as how things didn't work out so well for the old one.

For now, though, I am an Air Force wife. More specifically, I am an Air Force Civil Engineering Officer's wife, which, as my friend Teresa taught me, is probably more important than the Secretary of the Air Force. But I'll save those explanations for another day because my phone is ringing, and it might be the Pentagon.

Fall leaves (in July)

Yesterday I spent the afternoon holed up in Mary's room sorting baby clothes: 0-3 months, 3-6 months, gender neutral clothes, clothes for this fall, stuff for Goodwill, stuff for the trash. I had half a dozen piles of carefully folded clothes on the floor. All that remained was bagging them and putting those bags in the appropriate places.

Then in wandered David. His eyes grew wide with excitement. "Leaves!" he shouted. And before I could stop him (as if I could have), he was jumping for joy in the piles of "leaves" and throwing them in the air. His excitement was infectious, so Mary and I joined in--burying one another other in leaves, throwing them around, filling up "buckets" and dumping them out, jumping off the bed into huge piles, rolling around. The fun lasted a long time.

So, yeah, I have to admit that I'm proud of myself for not freaking out, for letting loose, and gleefully joining in on the imaginary play.

But I also have to admit that I feel demoralized about the wreckage of my afternoon's work. I did manage to sort out most of Mary's dirty clothes (the contents of the laundry hamper were included in the mix of leaves), but the rest of the clothes are strewn about her room. And they probably still will be two weeks from now (that's how demoralized I feel).

Memories...I'm hoping that will be consolation enough?

Lame

David will grow up with the stories of how when he was a baby he completely melted down in the Valley of the Kings, or walked across the U.N. Buffer Zone in Cyprus on his own two feet, or got lost with his mom in search of Pompeii, or looked for Jesus in Byzantine frescoes, or was kicked out of the tour group in that Bavarian Castle, or was included in a special tour of the Topkapi Harem thanks to good old-fashioned Turkish bribery, or almost fell off the ferry to Greece, or ate cheesy bread at Nuri's, or played with Elif in Cappadocia, or puked in Austria, or rushed his parents through the Uffizi, or any number of other adventures.

Then Mary will ask, "What did I do when I was a baby?"

And we will answer, lamely, "You went to Target."

The weatherman

When Greg and I were deciding what we should do tomorrow (he has the day off!), I suggested we check the weather, so we headed towards the computer. But David interrupted us and firmly declared, "I'll check the weather myself!" He stomped over to the window, stared out for a moment, then turned and announced, "No snow!"

It's official. It's July 6th and there is no snow in Dayton, Ohio.

From here to eternity

My sister-in-law recently posted this, and my first thought was, "Wait until you have two." I didn't leave her that comment because

1. I remembered how unhelpful it was when Mary was born and mothers of three children would say, "Wait until you have three."
2. I remember a similar feeling after David was born.
3. I'm not much of a comment-leaver anyway. (And why start now with a piece of really trite, bad advice?)

But I did get to thinking about how amazing life is. It's not only through our big trials and major tribulations that we grow stronger, but also, and even primarily, through everyday living. When Paul writes that "all things work together for good to them that love God" (Romans 8:28), I think he really does mean all things--the joys, the heartbreaks, and even the banalities of daily life.

God has given us the opportunity to continually learn, progress, and gain new perspectives. Sometimes our personal growth is so gradual that we don't realize it until we look backwards a few years and see how far we've come. I think a lot about that scripture in the Book of Mormon: "I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then I will make weak things become strong unto them" (Ether 12:27). I used to think that this never happened to me and that this transformation--a weakness becoming a strength--would be dramatic and fast-acting. But most of the time it's not. We grow stronger slowly, over time, almost imperceptively, until we can't even remember the weakness and we simply take for granted our new-found strength. When I stop to think about it, experiences in life, often mundane, have helped me find inner strength I never knew I had.

I think life is pretty wonderful. I think it's pretty neat that I'm stronger than I was 5 years ago. I also think it's a good thing that I'm not, right now, the person I will always be. God has given me the opportunity to change and become better, forever. Eternal progression. That's the plan, right?

Summer break

Summer is hard work: constructing elaborate railways, building a zoo, practicing your T-ball swing, digging in the sandbox, fixing the barn, pushing the wagon down the hill, surviving a full-blown power tool war. Phew! Sometimes you need a break:

Licking popsicles in the shade.

Vegging out on the floor.

Quintessential summer, or what?

[David was lucky to hang out last week with Aubrey and Jonathan, who will very soon be embarking an awesome overseas adventure, with their beautiful brand new baby sis. We'll miss you, Ball Family!]

Mind the Gap

This year, for the Fourth of July, we went to the Gap.

Yes, that's all we could manage. I've had a cold, and, even though I try to convince myself every day that I'm better, I keep getting worse, until yesterday I completely collapsed. This afternoon I pulled myself together long enough to accompany the family on a trip to the Gap to make a return and check out the sale. Two bad things happened which were actually good things.

The first is that Mary puked. Not just a spit-up--but a full-on, empty-the-contents-of-your-stomach, puke-your-guts-out, smelly explosion of vomit. She hasn't been feeling too great either. But she felt much better after she threw up--that's why it was a good thing.

The second is that David had to pee and he was wearing nothing under his shorts but his thin little undies. At this point I had taken Mary to the car to change her out of her vomit-soaked clothes, and Greg had the pleasure of David's company in the fitting room. Just as Greg took off his clothes, David looked at him and said, "Pee-pee." This was an amazingly wonderful thing because David has never ever before told us that he needs to pee. Sure, he goes most days without accidents, but Greg and I get the credit for that since we drag him into the bathroom so often. I was near the verge of declaring failure with the potty training business because, even though he obviously has bladder control, he did not seem to fathom the idea that he should/could tell us when he had to pee. (But at least it's no longer a celebration when he pees on the floor--it was a little demoralizing when he would shout for joy at the prospect of getting to help me clean up his pee off the carpet.) So there he was, trapped in a fitting room at the Gap with his half-naked dad, and he said it, "Pee-pee." Greg threw on his shirt quicker than you can shake a stick, scooped up his son, and sprinted through the mall with his long runner's strides towards the family restroom. And they made it! Hooray! So that's why that was a good thing.

So no church picnic (I felt too crummy), no fireworks (David chickened out), not even some sunshine (it's been rainy today). But we do have a little girl who is feeling a little better and some progress in the potty arena. And a shopping bag from the Gap.

[Truthfully, the really exciting thing about the 4th this year is our new computer, which Greg set up this morning. Greg and I are very good at keeping computers on life-support for way too long. This is the first new computer we've ever bought as a couple! It's super fast--almost as fast as Greg in the mall today. This is my first post from our new computer! May the new computer treat me well...or you may stop hearing from me.]

A craving

For a long time we had been planning to spend the month of September in Park City, Utah. But then we realized that the Air Force Marathon is smack dab in the middle of September, so we decided we would just spend a week and a half there. But then we learned that, sure, Greg might technically not have classes during that month, but he would be a freaking fool if he didn't use the time to work on his thesis. So we're not going to Utah. We had hoped to visit friends and family, so we were a little sad we wouldn't be going.

Then we learned from my mom that there is now a Cafe Rio in Park City. Now we're really sad we're not going. Is is possible that my real motivation for making the Mormon pilgrimage to Utah is not friends, family, my alma mater, or even Temple Square...but Cafe Rio?

Yes. It's possible.

Hey, I still have my card--it might be 5 years old--but I still have it and I only need three more stamps to earn a free meal! (And, by golly, when I get that third stamp, even if it's twelve years from now, they sure as heck better let me redeem my card, or there's going to be a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth.) And to those of you in Utah who are itching to tell me that Cafe Rio is no longer the it place like back in '01 or that the food has gone to pot now that there are 5,000 locations, keep it to yourself. If you tell me that Cafe Rio is now crap, then what reason would I have for coming to Utah? I'd never see you again! I don't want to hear one complaint about Cafe Rio. For just one of your Cafe Rios, I would trade all the grody Skyline Chiles in the entire Buckeye State...plus my firstborn child...plus my second born child. (A Cafe Rio and no kids! A bargain for me, I'd say.)

So, yes, for years, years, I have been craving a pork barbacoa salad with creamy tomatillo ranch dressing. Do you have any idea how hard it's been? (I went through two pregnancies with that craving.) And, still, no end in sight.

Oh, well...I guess I'll just have to hang on to that card a little longer.

Chili sandwich anyone?


P.S. Okay, so I've never even eaten at a Skyline Chile, so I don't really know if it's grody. It just sounds unappetizing to me--a fast-food joint that serves chili and cheese over spaghetti? And I don't even know if they are an Ohio thing.

P.P.S. For those of you who would suggest that the kids and I fly out to Utah without Greg: Why would I want to spend 2 grand to travel half-way across the country with a loose-canon three-year-old and an actively mobile baby only to play the single mom once I get there? No thanks. Not even the tortilla soup can persuade me on that one. Greg and I aren't enjoying 18 months of full-time-student/no-military-deployment bliss only to spend it apart. I'll have more than my fair share of single-mom-ness come graduation.

P.P.P.S. My one consolation here in Ohio? Graeter's! Gloriously gourmet ice cream...introduced to me at the perfect time, when I was nine months pregnant. (Thank you, Rebekah.) I suppose every state has its perks.

Happy now

This morning Greg took David to the Y. David wanted me to take him. I simply told him that Mary was sick so I was going to stay home with her.

He explained this to his dad: "Mary sick. Mommy stay home make Mary feel better. Mommy stay home make Mary happy."

An hour later, when they returned, David ran through the door, gave me a big hug, and asked, "Mary happy now?!"

Quality time?

By a turn of events, David and I had three hours of one-on-one time yesterday: no Mary, no Daddy, no play dates, no errands to run, or projects to finish. I think this was the first time since Mary was born that we have had this much time together, just the two of us:

1. First we typed numbers and letters on the computer, especially D-A-V-I-D. But that ended when the F-function keys became more interesting than finding the letter D.
2. Then David suggested we play Legos. But that ended when he cried because I couldn't build a tower like the ones Daddy builds.
3. Next, David wanted to play Candy Land. If you think Candy Land is boring (which it is), you should try playing it without any rules--it's even worse, I promise. So Candy Land ended when I mistakenly tried to insist that, if nothing else, we at least take turns.
4. Next, I suggested we play the Diego matching game, and David eagerly went along with my plan. But that ended when all he wanted to do was throw the pieces around the house.
5. So I suggested we play outside together. But that idea fizzled when it met with irrationally fierce resistance.
6. Finally, I decided to follow the counsel of Elders Ballard and Uchtdorf, and invite David to clean the house with me. But that ended when David sprayed himself in the face with Pledge.
7. Last, David suggested that we play cars. But that ended before we even started when he pooped in his pants.

By this time I was in a foul mood, and we'd only spent a whopping 45 minutes together, so when David asked if he could watch a video about riding a train across Canada, you can bet what my response was.

David's first action figure

A few years ago I received one of the best gifts ever, a Jane Austen action figure, complete with quill, book, and writing desk. (A big thank you to my very thoughtful and very cool mother-in-law!) It sat in its box until we moved here to Ohio. David came across it, and he immediately insisted that I open the box so he could play with it. My first instinct was, "No way! This is such a great treasure that it must remain unopened and hidden in a closet for next 20 years." But when I saw David's enthusiasm, I reconsidered, opened the box, and bequeathed my Jane Austen, accessories and all, to my eager two-year-old. That is how Jane Austen came to be my son's first action figure.

Jane Austen was a fun novelty for a few days, especially her little book, which is now lost. Even now, nine months later, she occasionally shows up in random places throughout the house, like on the train table or under the bed. Recently, during a complex and bruising version of peek-a-boo, which included, in addition to the Jane Austen, a tow truck, a baby sister, and a BYU blanket, she was snapped in half (thank goodness for glue). She is by no means a favorite toy--I think David likes the stupid musical American Idol toy from his Happy Meal better--but he has certainly played with her.

There is no doubt that David is drawn to more mainstream action figures like Spiderman and Optimus Prime, even though he has no clue what they are. (Is it some inherent little-boy trait to be drawn to that stuff, or is there an invisible tractor beam coming from that aisle that targets little boys?) Luckily for me, these days he is easily distracted by a Tonka truck or a pile of Legos. I'm sure the day will come when we'll have our fair share of Transformers (or whatever) strewn about the house. But nothing can ever change the fact that David's first action figure was a Jane Austen! (And it was entirely unplanned.)

Extra Credit Question: What is David's middle name? (Hint: It's not the capital of Texas.)