Popping corn at 7 am

On to catching up...

This event occurred back in the middle of Dec 2012, but since it was in my drafts list, I still wanted to write about it.

On the morning of Dec 18th, I came downstairs to the smell of pop corn and a very accomplished child. My mind raced back and forth as to how to handle the situation. On the one hand, I was very impressed at E.'s autonomy, problem-solving strategies, and self-motivation. On the other, I was concerned about safety. I opted to praise his self-reliance and admire the humor of the situation, considering that the little kid probably had been dreaming about pop corn enough to wake him him. Very gently though, I expressed my concerns about his safety, especially at placing one small chair on top of the other. He understood that he could have fallen and hurt himself, but hopefully that did not negate how pleased I was to see him do something on his own. That is yet to be determined, as in the last six months he has not tried to do it again.

I loved this experience. My little boy is growing up and becoming more self-sufficient. It was impressive that the popcorn was perfect and he was careful to handle the hot bag. E. even got out the hot sauce and had one very tasty treat for breakfast!

I found this experience to be a perfect analogy for parenting. How are parents supposed to balance their influence while allowing their kids to try new things on their own? How does one praise courage and daring despite possible ailments with just enough caution to keep our little ones from harm? How do we assess risk, both short- and long-term? It is obvious that if E. had fallen, bumped his head, or burned himself, this experience would have been awful. My mind races through those collapsed potentials and I am so thankful that he was safe and sound and happily enjoying his treat. Maybe we ought to believe more that most times things turn out ok. I don't mean to throw caution to the wind, but maybe I ought to embrace risk a little more and let the possibility of harm be just that, one out of many outcomes.

I guess I fear too much. My actions are often bound by the believe that we are not untouchable, and I try hard not to tempt fate. But, is there something to be learned from this? Am I "keeping him safe" at the expense of nurturing a more confident child? Who would have imagined these are the thoughts that came to me that morning and six months later I still have not resolved them.

Happy daring child. I ought to let him, just a little bit more.

This is my puppy

It has been six months since I last posted anything. I guess my blogging stamina quickly faded once the holidays hit (yes! I'm taking about the holidays in June) and apparently I had new projects and what nots with the new year.

I have been meaning to get back, and today, I finally took a look at all of the drafted posts. So while I don't promise to make up for the last six months, I do plan on catching up a little.

This is my puppy. His name is Bruno.

My puppy will turn nine years old next month.

Bruno has such a special place in my life. He was competing with my husband for my love the first five years we had him. Then the boys came along. I can tell when I have not spend enough time with him because he gives me those puppy eyes saying, "love me!!!" along with the skeptical look that says, "feel guilty!"

Originally I had wanted to write about Bruno because he is an integral part of our family and with every passing day the idea that he is not going to be here forever sinks in a little deeper. He looks like a pup but he is no spring chick. I want to think of him always with a sparkle in his eye, but even that is beginning to dim. Last winter was rough. He got an infection in his eye and was acting really strange. He started with cold-seeking behavior, where he begged to go outside in frigid temperatures, in the middle of the night, and sit there for hours on end. I became really worried about him. We treated his infection and tried to be more conscientious of him. He got better, and by the time spring came, he had a beautiful spring in his step again.

But with Spring, his allergies have become aggravated. For a dog who is allergic to EVERYTHING, he is doing well. Bruno is allegic to fish, chicken, and beef. He suffers from seasonal allergies in the Spring and Fall, and has even had some localized reactions to vaccines. He is a little neurotic and will bark at nothing as much as strangers and people leaving. But he is MY best friend, and I love him dearly.

Bruno loves, loves, loves to sunbathe. Ever since he was a puppy he would follow the sun light patches and lazily lay there. I love it when he rolls onto his back, with legs bent and spread, and head completely angled; eyes three-fourths shut, and tongue stuck out between his teeth. He sleeps so soundly in this position, until some small noise wakes him, and immediately reverts back to normal dog shape. Then he gives me "the eye", the accusing look that tells me his annoyance at being woken up.

I must confess that last night, he was cuddling sweetly next to me, when I sneezed, and made him jump so high! It was so funny! I laughed out loud but I don't think he found it too entertaining...

These pictures are from early spring. I'll post more recent ones since I feel like there is so much to share about this pup. But for now, here is to Bruno! The fluffiest member of my family!

E likes to draw

For a while now I have been wanting to show casing some of E.'s work. Coming from someone who loves to draw, it is very exciting to see my little one starting to do so. I feel pretty proud of him. Maybe all parents go through this, but I simply can't resist. 

I found him on the steps. I believe every child needs one of this magnetic drawing boards. So much drawing without so much paper.

E. told me he drew "baby S." I love the details. The arms, legs, hair, even eye brows. It's great!

 Ok. So I have to explain the following pictures. A few months ago I had bought an art pass for watercolor classes with a neighbor. Months went by and I only used two out of ten classes. So we figured that E. could take over my pass, and go through "art camp." He really liked going to "Melissa's" and drawing. I try not to draw in front of E. because then he just asks me to draw for him. I want him to draw, but then he says, "no...you do it." But from time to time I will. On the third or fourth class, the emphasis was on learning to trace. The next morning, I found E. doodling on the dry eraser board. I drew a stick figure boy (the one on the far right, right next to E.'s head in the picture below), and told him that was him. He then asked me to draw "mommy," which I did (lady in dress next). Then I told him that it was his turn, but he was hesitant. So I guided his hand as we drew "daddy" (next stick figure) together. E. added the hair all by himself.

At this point, S. needed something that I needed to tend. I told E. to go ahead and draw baby S. When I came back, he had! The stick figure to the left was all E.! Hair, eyes, mouth, and limbs, all him. I was so impressed and E. was thrilled. "Who else, who else?" I said, "Bruno! Draw Bruno." So the little figure below baby S. is Bruno. I love it. E. talked the entire time he drew. "This is Bruno. And his eyes, and his nose...Then his legs." I was so impressed that he drew 4 legs! Lastly, E. drew in the floppy ears. Can I just say how much I love this?!

I took these pictures, but later E. drew grandma and grandpa on top. Man, it just thrills me that he likes to draw. Maybe all kids do, but as he is my little guy, it tickles me. And I think he's pretty observant. What do you think?

The first gifts

Christmas started early this year. By the first week in December, we had already received some gifts from Grandma M from "Sheorshia". I was not fast enough to keep prying eyes away from the box, and so out came the play doh. E. loved it! He played with it nonstop for three or four hours that day. Happy Christmas little boys!

I wish I knew what he was wondering right at that moment. Is that not the most quizzical look ever?

Too bad the play doh was left out and started to dry. I love toys like this. Both boys had so much fun, and I loved seeing them play, even if I ended up sweeping bits of dried play doh for days. They loved it. Gracias Abulita!

What child is this?

How can you get a million different expressions from your child? Just put a slightly large hat on him, of course! Here is a tribute to the many expressions of S. boy.

My funny favorite. He makes this face all-the-time. He's pretty loud...

I love that nose! Me la como!

35 seconds and the hat is gone.

I guess the better question is, "whose is this child?" and I am so happy to say, "this child is mine." Love him to pieces.

Christmas Devotional

I'm going to do something that I said I wasn't going to do, and that is play a bit of catch up. The month of December has flown by. As I look at the posts, I realized that I entirely skipped over Thanksgiving and my birthday, and if I don't do a bit of catch up, Christmas and December as a whole will be going into oblivion. So here is to December!

I'll start off with the Christmas Devotional. It was such a crazy experience because I had been planning for it for weeks. The idea was the B. and I would go together with some friends, as I had scored four tickets. The tickets are really hard to come by on most years, but this year I was just able to order them online. The issue arose the evening prior to the event. My sitter all of a sudden dropped off. I tried in vain to look for a replacement. No luck. B. had to stay and care for the kiddos. I even tried to give the tickets away, but on short notice, nobody seem to want them either. What to do? What to do? I ended up going as the third wheel. Good thing my friends are pretty awesome, otherwise, I would have missed a really great experience. 

At the Conference Center, ready to hear the message of Christmas. My favorite was about being a good recipient. Great perspective always, Elder Uchdorf. 

Here is the First Presidency, getting ready to speak.

It was a great night. The weather was not too bad, and the Temple looked beautiful.

The lights at Temple Square are so fun. I missed B. terribly though. I wanted oh so bad to hold his hand. It would have been such a romantic evening had he come...

As great as it was, the best part was coming home to this smile!

Next year I'll try to get 6 tickets, and I'll have a back up sitter so that B. can come with me.

I too, hold my sons a little tighter

Today I also hold my sons a little tighter, a littler closer, a little more desperately. It has been a few days since the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary and I am finally daring to streamline my thoughts into words on a sentence. My heart aches, my eyes well up. I'm trying so desperately to not allow the hysteria from rising. I am more than two thousand miles removed from where this tragedy occurred, and yet I cannot but feel fearful. My heart longs to find comfort in all of the familiar ways, but tragedy seems to be creeping closer, closer, closer. There was a time when those horrible things were unheard of, were a thing of war and distraught places. This land was impervious to many of the evils that pervaded other lands. That's why we moved here...To escape, to find a safe zone. I find myself going through the same waves of emotions that I remember when the September 11th attacks occurred. There is no safe place...Thou knowest neither the day nor the hour...This tragedy, much like 9/11, tears me into thinking that the worst comes most unexpected. At least with war, you live in that constant fear. You know that that day may be your last. You know that danger encases you, and the adrenaline in your body seems to run consistently high. This is the stuff of anxiety. But when one is living life, having arguments, and kissing good-bye with a peck; when one's mind is bogged down with grocery bills and silly things, when one seems to make a life out of living, then the blow is so hard. One is not prepared. I was not prepared. I heard the news on my way to work, and my mind was tormented. The unknown fatalities, the children, the possibility of a coordinated attack...the children...the parents, the agony of time, the children. CHILDREN for God's sake! Children much like my children, just a few years their senior. I am blown to bits.

The conditions are so typical, a quiet town, the excitement for winter break, the conversation about the events of the prior day...It could happen anywhere. IT happens anywhere and everywhere. I feel like this life has a destiny that likes to play Russian roulette. My family and I are not out of range. Much like those parents, who were told to sit down before disclosing that 20 children had been killed. Twenty children, out of the billions of children in the world, who aren't coming home for Christmas. "Your child is not coming home." How bitter the hope of things that did not come to pass.

I sit here, composed, typing my thoughts away. Yet there are those parents, siblings, and friends, who cannot fathom what just happened. Those parents whose tears continue to streak their cheeks, unaware of the world that keeps revolving. Those siblings whose inquirying minds cannot understand their playmate lays cold and unmoving. Those friends, lucky to be alive, yet cursed. I feel for them. I feel for each of their struggles from the core of my being. It is not okay. Don't tell me (or them!) that it is going to be okay. No. The madness is in full swing.

Yet, the days pass. The sun rises, the moon follows. The chill of the wind hits my face. I get dressed. I eat. I sleep. At some point, other thoughts occupy my mind, because unlike those very closely affected, I am at liberty still. My job demands my attention. My kids, sound and happy want me to hold them and read them stories. It's a tricky balance of function and emotion. How desperately I want to grant them every wish for fear that tomorrow I may not get to. Still, the likelihood of another day is high, and my motherly duties grab the disciplined no and make me utter it. "No, you can't have blue fruit punch at breakfast." Luckily their tantrum-stained tears dissipate quickly and opt for milk or orange juice instead. There is time still...

Right after 9/11, there was a flurry of phrases noting, pleading not to forget. "Remember 9/11." As the nation mourns and heals, it moves toward forgetting a little. It's part of returning to normalcy. The struggle is to move on without forgetting, because those families, those frantic mothers looking for their unaccounted sons and daughters, they, THEY will NEVER forget. And I? I will look into my children's faces on their seventh birthday and think of those who never grew up to see it.