Rub a Dub Dub

My girls love the bath. If there is ever a time that I want both kids to cheer up with little work on my part, all I have to do is toss them in the bath. I don't have to entertain them. All I have to do is sit by the tub to make sure no one drowns herself (or the bathroom). I also have to make sure to spot Phaedra so she won't have a bad fall, since I can't yet convince her to stay sitting in the tub. That's about it. They are happy as soon as they hit the water, and I just have to supervise.

Phaedra loves the bath so much she begs to get in any time we are in the bathroom that has the tub. Mentioning the word "bath" in front of her is like saying "ice cream" in front of Eleanor. She starts chanting the word, and if you don't get her there fast, it's as if you've broken a promise to her.

I think Phaedra has taken a total of two or three baths without Eleanor in her entire life. If Eleanor is ever saying she doesn't want to bathe, all I have to do is put Phaedra in and let Eleanor watch her happily swimming around for a minute. Eleanor can't resist joining in.

I love pictures of bath time. I love the cute baby pot-guts and the dripping hair. I think I took more pictures of Eleanor in the bath as a baby than I have Phaedra. That's probably because my camera wasn't so fancy back then, so I wasn't as afraid of a splash here and there. Also, with Eleanor in the tub with Phaedra all the time, I have to be careful to get "tasteful" pictures since Eleanor is getting older. I still think bath pictures are fun, though.

Don't even think about it, sister.

R.I.P. Lappy

Last night, not long after finishing my post about Eleanor's latest antics, we had a death in the family. My laptop gave me a message about a hardware malfunction, and then everything went black. Grant, my faithful surgeon, carefully took out all of Lappy's organs and tried to revive them. It was a massacre. Grant did all he could to save my dear Lappy, but he said it was just her time to go.

She was a good friend. I loved her guts. She was warm. She was sharing. She loved long walks down memory lane. She even had pretty decent taste in music. She stood by us during the tough times when we had to turn to her for all our entertainment --not because we didn't have a TV but because we lived in a small house with a daughter who was a light sleeper. Lappy was ever so careful to let us hear the movie without waking the baby. She has been a support through church callings, finances, and countless blog entries, but she wasn't just about the work. I think she especially liked it when we would take her to the beach house; we were cut off from the outside world, with nothing to do but play games and watch movies. Those were the days.

I will be in mourning for the next few weeks until her younger cousin arrives to release me. Lappy wouldn't have wanted me to dwell in sadness too long. Until then, I do have some friends who can offer support when they aren't too busy. Grant's tiny friend, Lapita, will get me through where she can. I don't know how to say this without being rude, but, well, she's a little slow. Mack is all business and hardly ever around. When I can catch him, I'm sure I'll have some relief, but sometimes it feels as if we don't speak the same language. No one will ever have a stronger hold on my memory than Lappy.

I'm sure Lappy has gone to a better place where she doesn't get dropped or jumped on by three-year-olds. I'm sure that wherever she is now, there are no one-year-olds who try to step on her to get up onto the couch. She won't overheat or get crumbs in her keys. I'm sure it is a better place where she has gone. Sleep well, dear Lappy.

If anyone would like to share a few words on Lappy's behalf, you are welcome to do so in the "shared thoughts" section below. Thank you for your friendship in this troubling time.

A Wise Older Sister

One evening this week, we had a financial planner come to our house to talk to us about retirement, insurance, etc. We were all gathered around the table to listen to what he had to say except for Phaedra, who was entertaining herself in the living room where we could see her.

Pretty soon, she noticed that Grant had set my cell phone on the arm of the couch where she could reach. We all knew when she noticed it because she calls the phone "Daddy" or "bye, bye," and as soon as she noticed it, she started chanting her names for it. She didn't go straight for it and grab it. She looked at us, nodded her head, took a step closer. . . Grant, who was closest to her, paused in his conversation with the financial planner to tell her a very nice "no, no." She continued to make sweet faces in our direction while slowly inching closer and closer to the phone. Each time, Grant would pause, turn to her and patiently say, "no, no, Phaedra."

Finally, Eleanor, who was on Grant's lap, had had enough. She told him, "Daddy, Phaedra won't listen if you tell her calmly." Grant had tuned Eleanor out and missed what she said, but I couldn't keep from laughing. I repeated it for Grant, and we all had a good laugh over the wisdom Eleanor has acquired in her experience.

~Finished Project: Another Baby Blanket~

I recently finished a blanket for a lady in my ward. She recently moved in, and I was assigned to be her visiting teacher. Her baby girl was born last Sunday, and it sounds like all are doing well. I thought it would be fun to give her a blanket. Here's how it turned out:

Hard Workers

Grant's dad was kind enough to pick up two loads of wood for us this week so we'll be stocked up and warm for the winter. (We can't thank him enough!) I'm assuming he did it out of the kindness of his heart and concern for our well-being and not just to keep us from moving in with them again ;)

He dropped off the first load Monday evening just before Grant was supposed to come home from work. We had just finished dinner, and the girls were so excited to see Grandpa. We went out and watched as Grandpa unloaded the truck in our driveway. Before he was even gone, Eleanor was stacking wood on the sidewalk leading to our door. My first thought was to let the wood wait until Grant could get around to putting it in the garage where it would stay dry. But as I watched my busy little worker bee in action, knowing she had no intentions of quitting what she was doing to go back inside, I decided we might as well make all her work productive. I cleared a little space in the garage and told her where to stack it. I alternated between working one-handed, holding a squirmy Phaedra and working while trying to watch/chase after Phaedra after I let her down. Eventually, I gave up and put Phaedra in the Baby Bjorn, which didn't make her very happy.

Grant was due home any minute, so I didn't figure we would work for very long before he got home and we started packing kids off to bed. It turned out that Grant ended up coming home later than usual, and by the time he was home, we almost had the whole load stacked. Eleanor loved every minute of it. She kept telling me proudly, "We are hard workers, huh?" Grant took Phaedra inside and ate dinner while Eleanor and I finished stacking the load of wood. Then, since it was already bedtime, I scrapped the FHE lesson I had planned and we talked briefly about service and how we had done Daddy a service.

The next evening was when Grant's dad droppped off the second load. We didn't put any of it away that night because it was raining and the kids needed dinner, so I just put a tarp over the wood. The next day, Eleanor was anxious to help me put away the wood. That day, it was like playing red light-green light. We would go out and start stacking just a few minutes before it would start to pour down rain. So we went in the house and watched the sky until we could go out again. We got about half of it stacked. Phaedra was better that time to play close to the wood and not get into too much trouble.

Eleanor loved "working hard" together, and asked me first thing the next morning if we could go "wooding" again. She kept wanting to wear gloves so she wouldn't get splinters, but the adult sized gloves are really hard for her to use. I had seen child sized gardening gloves in stores, but that was only in springtime. I went and got her some extra-small baseball gloves on sale that have leather on the palms and fingers. She just loved them. She kept begging me all that day to go wooding, but I was too busy with other things to go out and work with her. As soon as Grant got home, he asked her to go out and work with him. She was so happy. Phaedra joined them and had lots of fun doing what she had done the day before: playing with sharp sticks. They got it all stacked. As I watched them work, I got a big lump in my throat. I just love when something as mundane as stacking wood turns into a fun family experience.

The stack. This is mostly just the first load. Eleanor had to stand on a stool to reach the top.

Pausing for loves.

Playing with sticks.

Hard workers.

Showing off her new gloves.

Fun with Bokeh

I've seen several blogs by talented photographers lately challenging people to use Bokeh in their photography. So, without knowing much about the technique or whether I'm doing it right, I decided to give it a try. It was pretty fun to take pictures with a specific effect in mind. Here are the results: I love this one.

I couldn't believe I could take a picture like this. Pretty.

Doing Better

I feel bad that I haven't let people know how Phaedra is since her accident. Although, you probably haven't been worried since you've been looking at the cute pictures of her in the previous post. Actually, those pictures were taken the day of the accident, a few hours before it happened. It's like I turned back time to before her face was mangled. Eek! Maybe that means I'm the photographer that cursed her!

The point is she's doing better. She didn't have to have stitches (we didn't even go to the doctor). We just gave her Tylenol, held some ice on it, and gave her lots of love.

This was taken the day after the accident while she was oh-so-swollen.
"Aargh, matey!"

This is also the day after. She was really walking that day, as if that was the day she decided she was done crawling. I took this picture in the evening to show the bonk she got on the other eye, as if she was trying to even things out. It's pretty hard to see in comparison, but it was pink and a little puffy.

Cute, chubby face. This picture reminds me of one of my baby pictures. It's a close-up and just pure chub. If only I had a scanner.

This was taken last Thursday. Her wounds are looking better, and she's happy in spite of the face-plant she did in the garage that day. She was so excited Daddy was home that she didn't even pause for the steps; she just kept on walking, bonking her right cheek and forehead.

Happy and patriotic.

But a few moments later, she was sucking on ice after another injury. She became fascinated with putting the flag through the crack between the door and the frame by the hinge. I went into the laundry room, opening the door as wide as possible so she wouldn't go behind it. Sure enough, she came along and started to close the door. Then, she started to scream. She was pinching her pinkie and couldn't get it out. She just got a little pinch, but it could have been much worse if she didn't have the flag stuck in there at the same time.

Eleanor can't miss an opportunity to eat ice.

This is what she looked like yesterday. Her face is healing nicely. I was going to report that she had been injury free for a while, but this morning she smacked her face on the corner of a door frame. Now, she has a bruised line on her forehead just over her left eyebrow. I guess it's just the age, but I don't remember Eleanor getting hurt so much when she was this age. She's always been a cautious child, though. If Phaedra keeps this up, I'm going to have to buy her a helmet.

13 Months Old

My sweet little toddler.

I feel really guilty that I haven't gotten around to writing about Phae. I didn't even write about her the month she turned one. It was a crazy time. So is this, but I'm going to write a post about her if it kills me.

Since Phaedra turned one, she has been in such a hurry to grow up! It's as if she knew the exact day and decided she would no longer be a baby. She started walking more and more. Now, she's walking all around the house. She prefers walking and only crawls if she's in a real hurry. I'm sure she'll be running soon.

She is mimicking our actions all the time. She tries to do things like dance, fold her arms, give high-fives, and even blow raspberries on tummies. She has become insistent that she feed herself and eat the food we are eating. She is very communicative if there is something on the table she hasn't had the opportunity to try. I still feed her baby food because she still plays more than she eats, but she has to have something she can feed herself at every meal or she won't allow me to feed her.

She has been trying to repeat our words. It seems like she picks up a new word every day. Some of the words she can say/try to say include: mommy, daddy, dog, doggie, hot, cold, no-no, go go go!, eat, baby, bear, bath, nigh-night, please, po-po, squirrel, wow, owie, amen, light, and book.

Phaedra has been watching me do Eleanor's hair day-in and day-out all her life. She used to be content to just play around with the extra combs, but now she insists on having a turn. She'll pat her head and say, "bo-bo," which is how she says po-po, the term we use for hair accessories. She has actually held still for me to put in pig tails a few times, and afterwards, I take her to the bathroom and show her how pretty she looks. She loves it.

She has transitioned from big, slobbery, open-mouthed kisses to actually puckering up. I'm always sad to see the slobbery kisses go. They're just so precious. On the other hand, her little puckered lips can melt my heart pretty easily, too. Whenever we say it's time for loves and kisses at bedtime, Phaedra is so quick to go to her sister with her puckered up lips, saying, "Mmmm."

She still puts everything in her mouth. She's starting to get better about certain things we tell her to keep out of her mouth, other things not.

She has always been interested in books, interested in destroying them, at least. Now, she's starting to actually care about turning the pages, and sometimes, she brings them to me as if she wants me to read to her. We only make it through a page or two before she yanks it away from me. She knows how to open a regular book, but when she tries to turn the pages, she usually rips them. The board books are more difficult for her to get open and turn pages, so she usually settles for eating them. She has bitten big chunks out of the spine on most of our board books. She's constantly pulling all the books off the shelf in our family room. We always have books strewn across the floor.

Now, I thought I would remember this in more detail, but since I didn't write it down, the details are rather fuzzy. Phaedra cut 5 teeth in a matter of about 4 weeks. There was the tooth she got on the bottom just after her bee sting. Then, I think she cut her first top tooth the week before we left to go to Utah. Her other top tooth came through on the drive to Utah. Poor girl. I thought she was just cranky from being in the car so long. No wonder she calmed down as soon as she had a chunk of apple to gnaw on! Then, she cut another top tooth on the way home from Utah and another just a few days after our return. She was popping out teeth like crazy! She now has 4 on top and 3 on bottom, so she's a little lop-sided.

Phaedra continues to bless our lives every day with her happy, playful, sweet spirit. She is a pleasant, loving daughter and an adoring younger sister. I would say I wish she could stay this little because she's so fun right now and she is growing way too quickly, but the more she learns and grows, the more fun we have together.

Four Years Old

My little girl is four.

She's happy to finally be four like Caillou (one of the shows she watches on Netflix streaming --I love not being a slave to TV schedules). She's been "pretend four" almost the entire month. She couldn't wait to be "real four."

She was so excited for it to be her birthday, especially when she had to endure it being Phaedra's birthday first. It's probably a good thing I moved up her friend party by a week. Even with moving up the party, she was anxiously waiting for it to be her real birthday so she could be four.

Last Sunday, she had a part in the primary program in our ward. She went right up to the microphone and delivered her part that she had memorized. "Family prayer strengthens my family, and I pray for my sister." She was so excited to talk into the microphone. She didn't hesitate at all. For the rest of the program, she could be seen waving her feet around in the air and finding new and interesting ways to position herself on her theater-style folding chair. She's four; what do you expect?

Eleanor plays so well on her own. She's very good at entertaining herself. I love to listen in when she's playing with toys, because you never know what scenario she'll be imagining for them.

She loves to clippety-clop around the house (crawling without using knees or taking actual steps --it looks more like an awkward frog), pretending to be a horse or a dog. Practically every day, she has spent some portion of the day pretending to be a horse or a dog. It can be challenging because she always seems to be underfoot when she's doing this. I have tripped on her or nearly stepped on her many times.

She is so unpredictable when it comes to food. I don't think she has a favorite food (excluding desserts and soda). I can never predict whether she will eat something or not. One day, she might love tacos, but the next time we have them for dinner, she won't touch them. Not even peanut butter sandwiches are an actual garauntee, and she eats a lot of peanut butter sandwiches. We tend to offer them as a back up any time she doesn't want to eat a meal that is being served. She loves berries and most fruits, but I can't think of one actual meal that I can feed her any given time and she will happily eat it. Her preferences are constantly changing.

Several months ago, she finally figured out how to buckle her own seatbelt on her carseat. Now, she insists on doing it herself every time, and we can't move the car until she is buckled (my rule, but she picked up on it). She would get in a big panic if you started the car while she was still doing her buckles, so we developed a policy that we don't start the car until she says, "Ready, get set, go!"

She has found her competitive side, and we are using it to our advantage as much as possible. She likes to race Phaedra to get jammies on at bedtime, and then they race to brush their teeth. Of course, Phaedra always loses; poor girl. One time, they were getting dressed in the morning. I hadn't chosen anything for Eleanor to wear yet (she is just barely showing the slightest interest in choosing something for herself --believe me, I've offered to let her choose for a long time). So as I was dressing Phaedra, I was telling Eleanor to get out a pair of panties, shorts, shirt, etc. I hadn't said anything about them racing because I wasn't going to wait around for Eleanor to get dressed when I was almost finished with Phaedra. Just as I was slipping Phae's last arm into her shirt, Eleanor declares, "I'm going to win first!" Then, she looked at Phaedra and lost it. I don't even want to talk about how long she cried over that one. Eleanor needs to learn to lose. Now, if I know she won't win, I make it very clear that we are NOT racing. I won't even let her think about racing at mealtime, or we would all be stuck waiting for ages to finish our food after her. She says we're pretend racing when we eat, and I don't bother to care who pretend-wins.

Four must be the bragging age, because anytime Eleanor wins a race, she likes to point out how Phaedra lost. She hasn't seemed to brag about anything before this month. Also, as soon as it was getting close to Eleanor's birthday party, she told Phaedra, "I'm the birthday girl now, Phaedra. Not you."

Eleanor has been so lovey-dovey lately. She randomly wraps her arms around me when she's sitting next to me. She gives us kisses on the cheek, the head, and any odd place that might get a laugh out of us. She wants to hold Phaedra when she's sad even though Phaedra only wants Mommy.

Coincidence or Curse?

Remember THIS?

Well, on Saturday, we had our family photos taken. Phaedra was as cute (and difficult to photograph) as could be, and I can't wait to see how the pictures will turn out. As of this evening, our dear little Phaedra looks like this . . .

We couldn't help but notice that our niece smashed up her face just after having her pictures taken, and Phaedra also smashed up her face after having her pictures taken. Do you think it's the photographer's curse?*

*Disclaimer: There have been no other reported cases of young children having similar injuries after having their picture taken by our photographer. It is much more likely a Matthews curse if there be a curse at all, similar to the curse that took away any singing abilities the men might have had, or the curse that prevents any planning or scheduling of events until 24 hours prior. Our photographer is not actually cursed, and if you don't catch the teasing tone of this post and you avoid her because of it, you probably don't deserve to have a talented person like her take your picture anyway.

Phaedra fell off the side of the couch tonight. She fell face first onto a toy. I was right there, watching her, but I couldn't catch her in time. You can probably guess how much I'm kicking myself for that one. All the girls in the house were crying. Eleanor screams every time she is forced to look at her two-faced sister. It wasn't a very pleasant evening.

I told Grant that if this is the rate at which the intensity of injuries increases on subsequent children, we can't have another one.

On a lighter note, if you want to see an adorable picture of Eleanor, taken by our curse-free photographer, follow this link. I can't wait to see the rest of the pictures she took. I want to take pictures like she does when I grow up. She's amazing!