Punkins in the Dirt

Josh was pretty pumped to get in the car and drive to the pumpkin patch. He kept talking about it the whole way there, but we could tell it was just because he thinks pumpkins are awesome, not because he knew what a pumpkin patch was. When we arrived at the pumpkin patch on Vine Street (I think they should take advantage of the name of their location, personally), Josh looked out and said, "Oh! Punkins in the dirt!" Exactly.

When we got out of the car, Farmer Pankratz handed us some scissors and informed us that all of the pumpkins within sight were half green, and if we wanted one that was "plumb orange", we'd have to ride behind his tractor to another area of his field. He was sorry about that, but we were pumped. I mean, way to enhance our Fall experience!

Here we are, starting our journey to find the perfect punkin in the dirt.

For some reason Josh was embarrassed to pose for the camera while Gary cut the pumpkin from the vine. But after we loaded up the pumpkins to go back, he was very proud of them. We did not tell him to pose by the pumpkins, he just figured that would be the best place to sit.Poor Noah is hidden behind his gadgets in every photo, but he was a proud pumpkin-owner, too.

And then we rode off into the sunset . . .(Josh was hypnotized by our flash.)

Picture Tag

Go to your Pictures file. Open the fourth folder and post the fourth picture. My friend Christina is the one who did this one, and I did it because I was curious as to how it would turn out. Not as cute as yours, Chris. (This is taken from inside our tour bus on Catalina Island this summer.)

Party Like It's My Birthday

Thanks so much for the birthday wishes! They made me feel VIP-ish all day.

This is really an Ode to Gary, because blogging about the nice birthday he put together should put a smile on his face, right? It started out with Gary going to work late so I could sleep in until 8:00. Best gift ever, right there! He then surprised me with flowers and breakfast from McDonalds, which I think is the ultimate gesture of love from a man.

Gary had planned to surprise me by taking me out to dinner, just the two of us. He had gotten someone to baby-sit and everything. Then my thoughtful sisters called him and asked what he had planned to do for me, and it turned into a little party at The Mayan. Since we knew the kids would love it, and there would be others there to defray the impact of bringing kids out to eat, we brought them. Good choice - it was so much fun to have everybody there. The Mayan is a theme restaurant in Salt Lake. It's decorated all Mayan-like and features cliff divers in the middle of the dining area, or as Josh would say, people "doin' jumpin' in the water jumps." Here some of us are at our table - the fence behind us keeps us from accidentally doin' a jumpin' in the water jump. (The guy on the far right is Dave's bro, Steve.)

We are displaying the happiness that comes from good food, good friends, and cliff diving. It was actually cool, and Josh was absolutely transfixed by it. It was a little scary, though - it seemed as if the margin of error for the divers was very small. One inch to the left, and major spinal trauma. After one particularly daring jump, where 3 people dove into the small pool at once, Gary said, "I can't believe this place is still in business." The cliffs and pool in question.I had to show the attendance of my friend Anna, and what better way to do it than showing her "typing" on what is labeled as a "priceless antique." How many of you vote that it really is priceless and they displayed it right there in the waiting room to the restaurant?This behavior is adorable and cute, if it is not your child. So, you can tell that it was Anna who took the picture. Now that it's a photo, I also say it is adorable and cute.Anna's husband Joe with Noah. Joe was worried that we had confused Noah by making him think it was Monday because of his bib.Last, but most certainly not least, my mom came down on Sunday to wish me happy birthday, and sparked a family gathering. Gary made sure there was lots of steak and sauces to dip them in, and he and my sister Hannah both made cakes. Fantastic since they each made a different kind, I got the best of both worlds, and I love to eat cake for breakfast. (Sick, but true.) There is no darling group photo of the event, but there is this shot of me and two cakes. It serves as proof of my mom's visit.

Bonus Josh stories: All day on my birthday he said to me, "No, it's MY birthday." Never did he concede that the birthday was not his. Also, when my family was at our house, Josh was having too much fun to eat. After everybody left and we put him to bed, he went to his door and pathetically called out, "Dad, I didn't eat steak." After about 3 minutes of hearing that again and again, Josh's dad brought him steak-in-bed.

Quirky Smirky

New York is quirky, like me. (Yeah, I know, huge stretch, but I gotta have a photo. Aren't we happy little honeymooners?)

This is the revelation of 8 quirks I don't mind admitting (to steal the words of my friend Michelle, who tagged me for this). Smirky doesn't have anything to do with it, but it rhymes with quirky in such a fun way. It's a good rhyme for teaching kids the words in the "irky" family. Anyway, on to the quirks . . .

I'm a rebel. When I was in college I had a pack of Days of the Week underwear that I wore with utter disregard as to which day of the week it was. When Josh was born I was given a pack of Days of the Week bibs, and I'm sure you can guess what I do with them. That's right, Noah wore the Sunday bib today.

I am easily amused. Little phrases like, "gold Peruvian shawl" or "refreshing peach scrub" can be just the thing I need to feel silly inside. This is a good thing since I'm such a stress-head most of the time. And if there's nothing I can find to smile at, the dusty bum story never fails to bring a giggle. (I hope I've told you that one.)

There's something about bulk. When I see things in bulk, I really feel like I need to do something with it. In a craft store I think, "Bolts of felt! I'm sure there's a whole lot I can do with that." In a hardware store I think, "So much wood! Must build." In Sam's Club I think, "Who do I know that wants a giagantic tub of Cheez-ums for Christmas?" I'm serious, I can't help myself.

I just can't stop. When I feel socially awkward, I talk more to fill the supposed silence. I know I'm saying odd things, but I feel like I need to keep making up for what I just said. Again and again and again and . . . yeah, time to stop.

The phone is scary. I get really nervous to call people a lot of the time. This is most likely because of the last item.

De-junking is such sweet sorrow. I LOVE getting rid of things. Big bags of things. More space for me! However, I have a really hard time parting with some things I've collected. Gary just barely convinced me to get rid of my spray-painted-gold Barbie (It was an award!), but every time I go through my VHS tapes, "Mystery Science Theater 3000 - Prince of Space" stays. Sure I've had it for 6 years and never watched it, but I'm positive it's a good one.

I've got high standards. 6 years ago I declared that the man I would marry would be the kind that would play with me in the corn box at Hee-Haws (yeah, another corn maze experience). This was important to me at the time, but I never did test it out, until exactly two seconds ago when I asked him about it. He said if we went, he'd play. Phew! We're made for eachother.

Go big or go home. When I see in my mind what needs to be done, I feel like I need to do all of it. Now. So, I dig in, and then either I burn out or the day does. So, I end up with personalized booklets for each student in my class, but no lesson plan for tomorrow, or a pristinely organized pantry and every dish in my house piled in the sink.

I tag mom (yep, it's time to blog it up for you), Christina, and Ashley. I'd really like to read some quirks of my sister and brother in-laws, and YOU, too, but I shan't bestow an official tag on anyone who doesn't desire one. Unless you want me to.

Right after I got that tag, I got a similar tag from my friend Anna. I've already done the quirks part of that one, but there was another part to hers where I need to say 6 nice things about the person who tagged me. Gladly!

1.Anna is a fantastic person to talk to if you're having a tough time.

2.Anna was awesome when I was dating Gary - so encouraging and happy for me.

3.Anna is generous - I always had something to wear when I was her roommate.

4.Gary says Anna is complimentary. I agree.

5. We both love laughing with Anna.

6. He also says she's thoughtful and kind. I agree and I agree. We could keep going!

You Goin' Football Game, Too?

We have taken Josh to BYU football games ever since he was in utero, so I shouldn't be shocked by his level of fanship, but I am. He was only 18 months old when we took him to the last home game last year, so surely there was no way he would really remember, right?


Well, two months later I was wearing a BYU t-shirt to bed, and he pointed to it and said, "football." Not too much later, he started pointing to the letter Y in random places (like the word "SONY" on our radio) and saying, "football." Fast forward to last month when we went to the BYU vs. UCLA game as a family. He nearly hyperventilated with excitement when he saw the huge Y on the stadium. I was still thinking there was no way he really knew what the whole football game thing meant. Then Gary said, "Hey, Josh, we're going to the football game. Do you want to come?" Did he ever! While I got things ready with Noah, Josh ran around the parking lot yelling, "Goooo, Cougars!" and "I go football game. Sit, watch football game!" It was very cute, but we already had plans in place for when he just couldn't sit anymore . . . but it never happened. He was excited to watch the WHOLE GAME. Such a feat earned him lots of popcorn and candy from older people around us.

Josh has been talking about "go cougars football game" ever since. We had the chance to go to another game this weekend, and his level of excitement has not waned. Every time the band played he'd stand up and dance, whenever the crowd would stomp on the stadium floor to make noise Josh would kick his little feet furiously (even though they were a few feet from making it to the ground), and whenever the fight song was sung he would rise and shout with the best of them. He'd say the words he knew, "Out", "You", "Strong", "Y-U!" He's especially enthusiastic about the rah, rah, go cougars part, and luckily for me I brought a camera this time. Here he is clapping along to the fight song. What he'd been waiting for weeks to do - "Goooooo, cougars!" (Josh and Gary)My family was at the game, too. My dad is at all of them actually. I swear we have not spent time coaching Josh to be a BYU fan, he just loves it. I think it goes to show that there is a gene for fanship, and I could probably make bank by isolating it and publishing my findings. Anyway, we all have fun with it, and here we all are (Sarah, Josh, me, Kristen, Kayla, Hannah, Dad, Katie, and Noah - photography by Gary). My dad took us to eat beforehand (thank you!!), and Josh was asking everyone, "You e-cited football game?" and "You goin' football game, too?"Finally, this is Josh's reaction to my request that he smile for the camera while he was trying to watch the game. Oh, and Gary and I also were present and talked and laughed and had a good time, in case I've left anyone in suspense.

p.s. Don't hate my child if you're a Ute or an Aggie or a Seasider or whatever. Genetics is genetics, he's just a boy.

Editorial: Whose Kids Are the Best

Note: This is on the edge of something that would normally be in my journal instead, but since it is a commentary on some things I blog about, I figured I could share it with anyone who will bear with reading it. I love that by calling it an editorial, it supposes that the other posts are fair and balanced reporting. I'm the editor, though, so if I say it's balanced, it's balanced!

So far in this blog, my children are adorable and innovative little scientists that evolved from monkeys. Fair assessment. Having been a kindergarten teacher, and hearing all of the things people said to me about their children is part of what makes me reflect on how I portray my own. For example, lots of people felt it necessary to tell me all about how brilliant their child was before school ever started, pretty much giving me a, "You'd better do a good job, missy," ultimatum. I decided I don't ever want to be like that, which is good, because I might have been had I not had the teaching experience. (Side notes: There are a few parents of former students who occasionally look at this blog, and no, you were absolutely not like that. Also, I know one person whose child is an actual genius, and you handle it well and should absolutely talk to the teacher about it. Hope everyone feels better. :) )

So, do I think my children are the best? Yes, absolutely! But do I think my children are better than everyone else's children? Not seriously, but one fun caveat of mother/child relationships, I think, is that everyone needs someone to think they're the best, and if your mother doesn't think so, it's tough a lot of times to find someone who does. Then kids can always know that even if they're not the best soccer player, times-tables memorizer, writer, dancer, and on and on, someone sees how wonderful they are, and thinks they're the best. I remember when Josh was about 3 weeks old, holding that tiny baby and and having an overwhelming feeling that he is a wonderful, special boy. I thought he was the greatest. But then, I started to tear up thinking there will come a time where he will face others who don't necessarily think so. I couldn't take it. "Oh, please see how wonderful my baby is," I whispered through my tears. I hope that even if he turns out to be shy or obnoxious or has funny teeth or something, people will love him.

That experience changed my perspective on teaching. I had loved the children who came through my classroom before, but after that I wanted to make extra-sure that I was trying to see each child the way their parents would. Or more than that, as Father in Heaven would. This is not an easy thing to do, in general, but I hope I'm getting better instead of worse at least. I understood more what those parents were saying, and I really don't want to be an "ultimatum" parent, but that's only a few people, and even those are just loving their kids.

Now, I'm not a classroom teacher, but I talk to people everyday about their kids and mine. I don't want to compete. I actually really don't like it. I want to be able to be happy about the successes of other kids, and let their parents know their kids are the best. And in turn, it's fun to share my stories and have other people cheer me on in my bumbling efforts to parent. My neighbor is really good at this. She gave Josh a high-5 the other day when I told her he went potty, and was really happy, even though she wishes her child would do the same. (Note: Josh is extremely random in his bathroom attempts, so this is in no way a brag.)

So, when I blog, I'm being silly about a lot of things, but I hope, as their mother, I do my job of showing how my kids are great. A job's a job, man.

Enjoying Our Local Canyon

We went up the nearest canyon on Friday night and had a cookout with some friends from our neighborhood. It was great to depart from our usual ice cream-and-TV Friday night routine (although I still love the routine, seriously), and great to get a chance to get to enjoy the gorgeous fall and chat with great people. (Yes, great is my adjective of choice, currently.)

While talking, the men determined who will win the next presidential election, the women determined when the right time is to reveal a pregnancy, and the children determined how many marshmallows and glasses of Diet Pepsi they could have before their parents caught on. It was also determined that if Gary and I want to continue naming our children after Old Testament people (which we didn't set out to do on purpose, by the way, we don't consider ourselves theme-namers yet), we will probably somewhere along the line need to name a child Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz. (Sp?) Here are my boys lounging in the great outdoors.
Josh and the other little boy bonded over marshmallows and the phrase, "Go, Cougars!"

Fun friends . . . (okay, one of them is me, but there were other friends there.)

The kids in cahoots. (Alternate caption: Josh is already experiencing the ratios enjoyed by Mormon college guys. He's probably asking who wants the chance to make him some cookies.)

Good times. Special shout-out to Liz for photography and getting me out of the house. You're so much better than I am at getting people together.

Enhance Your Blog-Reading Experience

Lately, each time I make a comment on a blog, I try to pronounce the randomly generated letters (you know, the security ones that make it so hacker programs and monkeys can't comment) as I type them. Give it a try, it could just add a little kick to your day.

Look Quickly Before He Grows Again

My brand new baby is 4 months old! (I am allowed to be sappy about my baby.) His visit to the doctor yesterday revealed that he is 16 pounds, 26 inches long, and "perfect", to use the doctor's words. He cooed adorably and batted his large eyes at her to get her to say that. 26 inches long is apparently in the 90th percentile, so Josh, whose height is merely average, had better start weighing the consequences of each object he drops on Noah. Here are pictures of Noah at 2 weeks, 2 months, and 4 months (the other day). If you scroll down fast enough, you can actually watch his cheeks grow.

letter to Ashley

I found this letter recently, and I hope it's long enough ago that it's okay if I publish it (almost 2 years ago on a blog . . .) I have felt really strongly lately that I need to keep track of our family history, and I feel like stuff like this shows what I was thinking a feeling at the time. So, if you get this off the RSS feed, ignore.

Hi Ashley!

Hope you are having a great week! I am jealous that you have a basement. I really want a place to send the kids and toys where people can't see the second they walk in my door. That's okay, I feel pretty lucky to have a house, so welcome to my mess!

I took a parenting class at BYU where one of the things we talked about was how we were parented. Oh, goodness, a ton of people in that class had stories of things they had to overcome. Doesn't make it any easier for you, but sometimes it's good to know you're not alone. My mom always talks about me being her "experiment" because I was her first child, and she apologizes to me, but whatever. No one is perfect, and no matter what, I always felt loved. That's the most important thing, that I have always known she loved me, even if there was a day she yelled at me a lot. I really don't remember a lot of those, because none of them matter to me. If you're doing you're best, your children will feel that, and it IS a step in the right direction that the hole is in the wall. You can't just erase your past or change your inner feelings with a snap of your fingers, but you can do your best to consciously make sure you don't do things you'll regret. It's a huge thing! I truly believe also that as you try hard and pray for the atonement to help overcome your weaknesses you will be granted more patience, little by little. The steps are small, but when you look back after a few years I know you'll see a lot of progress.

Yes, I was a kindergarten teacher for 3 years. I had a hard time when we first moved to this house and suddenly I was a stay-at-home mom. I loved being with Josh more often, and seeing all of the growth he was making, but I didn't really know what to do and I didn't have anyone to talk to for most of the day. I missed having something I could really sink my teeth into, and I felt bad that I didn't get a chance to keep making improvements as a professional. I started going to play group and enrichment as much as I could to try and get to know people, and little by little I started to have people to talk to. As for talking to the neighbors first, I realized after a while that I couldn't just wait around for people to come to me. I have actually just started to try to get to know new people more, and as I think about things to do for people, just in the last couple of weeks I've thought of more than I can actually do. Every time I go out and say hi to a new person I come back feeling better. I had an idea a while back that Josh and I could make cookies together and then go deliver them to meet new people. I like doing that, except I've realize that cooking and delivering has to happen on two separate days for us. I always go to the local library to see when story time is for something to do. Turns out, here in Tooele county, they run on volunteers, so I volunteered to do story time every now and then. I also signed Josh up for a music class. It was fun, and it gave me ideas. I went home and took some toilet paper tubes (the cardboard in the middle), filled them with various things (rice and dried beans), and taped cardstock on the ends. Voila, shakers! Then, I took empty oatmeal containers (not instant, the oats that come in cardboard cylinders with plastic lids), and taped the lids down. Drums! We turn on music and dance around and play our instruments. Josh loves it. Now that it's nice outside we go to the park more often than other stuff. I try to ask someone to come with us, although it doesn't always happen.

Having activities to do helps, but I am also trying to change my heart/attitude. I got a strong feeling last year that as long as I read my scriptures and exercise I will feel good. When I do well with those things I do well overall, so I know that was personal revelation for me. Sometimes I do better than others, but I try to make goals. You know, just try. My husband comes from a family of 10 children. I asked my mother in law (who lives in LA, where my husband is from, and I love her) how she survived. She said she just had to make up her mind to devote her life to her children. I'm trying to take that advice to heart. It changes my attitude from, "Why can't you just sleep!" to, "Okay, I'll read and sing to you for as long as you need." Don't think I'm there yet, I'm really far away, but it helps to try to think that way.

I haven't been in contact with Sister Chaston for a while, although I think about her. I went to her bridal shower, and haven't seen her face to face since then. I'm going to try to get in touch again. Elders Ibiam and Perkins have beautiful wives and cute little children (2 each, I think), Elder Kreitzer passed away, and I would love to hear what Wolfensberger is doing. Deeds, too. I talk with two of my companions you wouldn't know (Leek and Onstott), and have recently been thinking of all of them.

Well, speaking of LA, my husband is a huge Dodgers fan, and they're doing well tonight. Hope my email isn't too rambly as I try to think in spite of it!

Love ya,

Emily