Holls: Age 2

Don't worry—her lip is black because she is a thief and managed to sneak some licks from her birthday cupcake when we weren't looking (she will do this with any baked good you leave within her reach)

Hollie had a birthday and now she is two. She is energetic, lively, curious, stubborn, clever, and silly. She still loves lions and the moon. She still loves books, though she tires quickly of frequently read titles, and I think there will be many more library trips from here on out. She loves singing songs, and knows many church songs and Yo Gabba Gabba songs by heart. She also knows "Home on the Range," the song my father always used to sing to me when I was a wee baboo.

Riding her bike with two of her "best friends"

Her "best friends" (as she calls them) always come in pairs, and she picks a new pair each morning. Frequent "best friends" include Grover Mouth (as opposed to Fluffy Grover and Mama Grover—Fluffy Grover has extra curly hair, Mama Grover is my old Grover doll, and Grover Mouth has an exceptionally wide open mouth and he is Hollie's favorite), Big Bunny (the stuffed rabbit formerly known as "Whiskers" from my childhood), and Hopkins (a Signing Time stuffed frog from my Cousin Erin). Recently inducted into the "best friends" circle is her new stuffed Muno doll, who has been a constant best friend since Hollie's birthday on Wednesday.

Going on a walk with her superhero cape.

Holls loves to count (we heard her counting to eleven over and over this morning until Dave got out of bed and let her out of her room, and she surprised us tonight by counting backwards from eight while we were getting her birthday cupcakes ready) and she loves to recite the alphabet (which she commonly calls the "now-I-know-my-ABCs-won't-you-sing-with-me song").

She also loves making funny faces and funny noises.

She loves the Japanese anime Totoro and we let her watch it about once every two weeks or so. She calls the little totoros "bunny balls" and every time it reaches the part where the family is taking a bath in the dark, she freaks out for some unknown reason and runs out of the room until we skip the DVD ahead to the next scene. It is weird and oddly endearing? And a little sad because Dave and I both fantasize about having a Japanese-style bath in our house someday, but maybe Holls is deathly afraid of them? We don't know?

Hollie ranges between "picky" and "adventurous" eater and I can really only describe her as "unpredictable." If you ask her what she wants for dinner, she will always say pizza. We had Papa John's for her birthday, and I sort of felt like a slacker mom. Sort of. She also loves bacon, pickles, and chips (even though we have bought potato chips maybe once ever since she's been born and it was on the fourth of July). But she also loves avocados, "straw-babies" (as she calls them), apples, bananas, grapes, noodles (any kind), red peppers, yellow peppers, white peppers (onions), rice, salsa, mashed potatoes (if she can eat them on her fingers), and fish sticks (if she can dip them in "cat-syrup," or ketchup). She'll eat Indian curry and Mexican food but she won't eat hamburgers. Like I said, "unpredictable."

She likes broccoli 2 out of every 5 times she considers it.

Hollie loves to laugh and dance and jump and slide and shout. She can jump high. She will run and slide on her knees across our wooden floors for hours at a time. She practices pushing herself around on her new tricycle all day long. I've never seen such athletic stock in a kid before, and I am completely alien to the attribute. As soon as she is old enough, I'm sending her off to ballet class and soccer camp so somebody who actually has coordination will help her hone these talents! I literally stress out sometimes that the only person she ever has to dance with is my sorry self who still thinks the Cabbage Patch is advanced choreography! (Fortunately David is quite a bit more suave and sportsy than I am.)

Jumping!

Sliding!

Running!

Holls sometimes get into trouble, and she has her very own time-out chair (a green fold-up chair we keep behind her bookshelf). When she knows she has done something wrong, she will ask, "I'm going to time out?" When she received Muno on her birthday, she was feeding him milk and some of it spilled on the floor. She held Muno over the small puddle and said, "Muno, do you see what you did? Let's clean it up?" So I suppose she is "getting" it.

She's also a lounger. She can lounge on anything.

We had a whole birthday party planned for her this morning: finger painting and cupcakes (homemade pumpkin cupcakes and snickerdoodle cupcakes, our Grover family specialty) with all her little kid friends. Yesterday she came down with a 102-degree fever, so we had to cancel everything at the last minute, tragically. She didn't mind. But I'm still a little sad. (We're planning to reschedule in a couple of weeks and just call it a finger-painting and cupcake-eating party.) So since we didn't have cake on her birthday, we bought three mediocre grocery store cupcakes and celebrated over them. Hollie picked out her ghost cupcake by herself (but we all three ended up eating from all three).

The morning Hollie was sick, she fell asleep sitting up. I didn't know what a mom should do in this scenario, so I just propped up a pillow next to her and put a blanket on her. 

Our little girl is a sweetheart and we love her like crazy. She still tends to prefer David, but I don't mind. I wouldn't change a thing. Happy Birthday, you old Hollie-wallie-doodah. You old Babaloo. You crazy old coot. We can't wait to see what you become this year.

Coloring with Dad.

Feeding Grover Mouth (just like her mom used to feed her Grover doll)

Wearing Mom's socks and slippers (a favorite pastime)

Sleeping in her "purple backpack"

She gets jealous when I take pictures of Charlie on the Boppy, so sometimes we follow up Charlie's monthly photo-op with some of his big sister in the same pose.

And sometimes we end up taking pictures of Hollie's "best friends," too.

Holls, you are an imp and a clown and we love you!

Here's a quick video of the birthday song for our family who want to see it!

Charlie's Baby Blessing

In Latter-day Saint churches, we like to give babies special blessings in church about a month or so after they are born. It's sort of like a christening, but we just call them "blessings." They are performed by a church member who holds the priesthood, usually the baby's father or another family member or sometimes another male member of the congregation that the family knows and loves. A circle of invited priesthood-holders stand in a circle and all help to cradle the baby in the middle. The person giving the blessing listens for inspiration from God as he speaks, so he knows what to say. It's very special. Hollie was blessed by David when she was a baby, and last Sunday Charlie got to be blessed by his Grandpa Sam (Dave's dad). 

Smiley Charlie

I love baby blessings. It's tradition to dress babies in white, and we dressed Charlie in this hysterical little white tux with short sleeves and short pants that my brother William had been blessed in when he was a baby, 21 years ago. (Hollie was blessed in the white dress that I had been blessed in as a baby. My mom is the complete opposite of a hoarder, but she does keep really good care of a few select things, and blessing outfits are one of those things.) It was really neat that Dave's dad gave Charlie his blessing, too (even though David waited until church had begun to ask his dad if he would be willing to do it! We're so grateful he said yes!). My favorite part, I think, was when Charlie was blessed that he would grow up to be "kind, obedient, and fun." It was a blessing full of love, and I am excited to see our fun little boy's personality grow in the coming year.

Charlie's Grandma and Grandpa Grover, his Aunt Liz, Mary, Sarah, and Uncle Angelo all got to come visit for the weekend, and our house was momentarily filled with way more stories, jokes, laughter, and Texas sheet cake than Dave or I could ever create with just the two of us, and, consequently, Hollie was SUPREMELY happy. Dave and I are far from boring, unless you are an almost-two-year-old, in which case I'm afraid we get to be desperately boring. So for three happy days, Hollie had a handful of people who were completely interested in everything she had to say, followed her from room to room, chased her around the backyard, and smothered her in tickles and kisses. Her Aunt Sarah gave her an enormous pink-and-white striped pig that is taller than she is, and Hollie fell immediately in love (pictures pending). It was a glorious weekend.

Hollie and her Aunt Mary having way too much fun.

Anyway, here are a million gazillion pictures of taking the family to the South Plains Fair (a last minute decision that meant leaving for the fair at 5:20 p.m., coming home at almost 8 p.m., making dinner and then eating it at 9 p.m. and putting Hollie to sleep at almost 10 p.m. AND IT WAS ALL WORTH IT!) After the fair pictures are a variety of family pictures taken outside of our church that will be interesting to nobody but our family, so feel free to skip all those if you want to! Or feel free to look closely at how my hair was clearly wet when I slept on it the night before and I'm pretty sure it didn't even get brushed out that morning. I blame 9:00 a.m. church. 

Appreciating prize-winning produce

We're so grateful for Sarah being willing to take Hollie into the petting zoo. Such a fabulous aunt!

Petting sort of sad-looking goats. We mean you no harm, little goat!

Hollie woke up Sunday morning asking to see the bunnies again.

First carousel ride! She *almost* liked it!

First carnival game! I sort of can't believe I let Holls stick her hand in that nasty butt water and touch those rubber ducks. I'm pretty sure if you looked at gonorrhea under a microscope, you would see something like these nasty old rubber ducks.

But it was worth it for this awesome PURPLE MONKEY! She looks apathetic here, but she was gaga about that monkey for the next 48 hours.

What could be better than grandparents and a fair? NOTHING! (Except maybe being old enough for the rides.)

Oh yeah, Charlie was there, too, wearing blue jeans for the first time in his life.

And now, without further ado, a selection of several family pictures in various combinations of church-clothed people:

Come back and visit soon, Grover fam!!

Thoughts at the End of September

I've tried to update this blog for months now. There's so much to record, I can't fit it all in, nor do I know if this is even the proper venue for recording all that I'd like to keep. It's been a month full of all kinds of thoughts, and they contradict each other constantly, so writing down any one thought feels sort of dishonest since I'll likely be thinking a contrary thought in the next moment.

So let me just get some stuff out there so I can move on in this blog and stop feeling like I have to play catch-up whenever I want to say something.

You can't tell here, but his eyes are steel blue.

#1—I Had a Baby

Our Bonnie Prince Charlie either came late or right on time, depending on which due date you think was accurate. Two days before I went into labor, he made a royal flip (that I felt, in the middle of the night) and decided he'd try to come feet first. The doc gave him 24 hours to change his mind and right himself, but I went into labor before this change and before we could schedule the necessary C-section.

A tender mercy: I went into labor literally one hour after my mom showed up. My sweet mom, whom we all thought bought a plane ticket way too late, that surely the baby would be three weeks old by August 8th, but who came right on time after all. 

Mom played with Hollie for a few glorious days, just the two of them: Grandma Hollie and Little Hollie. It couldn't have been more perfect; they couldn't have more cute together. She was a million times better behaved for Grandma than she ever is for us.

Dave and I went to the hospital at midnight on August 8, and I had a C-section at 3:00 a.m. on August 9. My water broke as they wheeled me into the operating room. It was maybe the most uncomfortable and freaked out I've ever been. The spinal block calmed me down, even though it made my arms spasm uncontrollably (I hear that some women have their arms restrained with belts—I'm glad I didn't, even though it was unnerving to see my hands flopping about like fish out of water).

David loved wearing surgical garb. He looked like Jack Shephard from Lost and kept making Jack faces and saying Jack lines to keep me calm and entertained ("I don't believe in miracles, John!" "I need to bury my dad!" "I'm a surgeon, not an anesthesiologist!").

Dave reading Ryan North's Choose-Your-Own-Adventure version of Shakespeare's Hamlet, To Be or Not To Be. It came in the mail the day I went into labor. It is brilliant and funny and made the sleepless nights more manageable. Note how properly disheveled we look. And note the bright sunflowers my doctor brought for me from her own garden.

Finding out I would need to have a C-Section was hard to swallow. It felt a little bit accusatory, like, "You aren't a real woman with a body who can handle having a baby. We need to help you. Also, if this were the medieval times, you would be a dead woman. Thanks and here's your bill." But fortunately my doctor is lovely and I also had lovely friends and family shower me with support and advice. It was all worth it when they finally pulled Charlie out (feet first, after all, just upside-down) and announced his boy-ness. (Also, David saw my uterus outside of my body. He probably doesn't want me publicly announcing this, but I can't help myself. It's too weird. It deserves utterance. Also, he said he wasn't going to look but then he did anyway.)

#2—I Love Being a Mom

Charles Roscoe has been a pleasure and a joy. The boy sleeps in his cradle at night! He still wakes up for feedings, but it is nothing like the 24-hour trade-off schedule that Hollie had us on. David and I took turns for six months taking turns holding her all day and all night, watching obscene amounts of Netflix (and way too many episodes of How It's Made and My Name is Earl). 

Chaz eats like a speed demon and then falls right back to sleep. I'm less anxious this time around, so I feel like I am enjoying his babyhood more than I did with Hollie. I loved Hollie as a baby, but I was so scared and panicky, especially at nighttime. Now I just feel sleepy-drowsy and hungry at night. I feel a lot more relaxed, and he really is such a good baby. He's easy to pacify, he rarely cries. He smiles at me every morning. It's lovely.

And Hollie is hilarious. I can't believe she's almost two, and I promise to devote a whole post to her on her birthday. Suffice it to say that she keeps us entertained and on our toes. She hasn't tried to kill Charlie yet, either, which is nice. She has such a big personality that I spend the day thinking of her as a fellow adult, a child, and a baby all at once. I love 'em. I love these crazy kids.

#3—I Wish I Were a Better Mom

I found myself wondering these past two days whether I am a stay-at-home mom or not. Our kids don't go to daycare. David and I split the work 50/50 or 50/50ish. We both spend some time on campus and some time at home during the days. So are we both SAHMs? Are neither of us?

Dave's been sick for two days, so I've been the sole baby-wrangler except for when he swooped in this morning to change Hollie's poopy diaper and swooped in again tonight to put her to bed (David doesn't really know how to be sick). It's been hard. I can't believe how often I take for granted putting Charlie in Dave's hands while I go for a run (or even go to the bathroom). I suddenly feel guilty for realizing how hard it is to do a thing that many of my girlfriends do full-time everyday.

So I wonder...am I not so great of a SAHM?

There's more I could say here about a lot of things. I consider myself a feminist, but this has been a pretty loaded word, especially in my church of late. I look at Hollie, who is picking up on the stuff of life like some kind of psychological kleptomaniac, and I wonder how to instill in her both the values of a feminist and the values of a stay-at-home mom (again...am I a SAHM? Isn't there some kind of online quiz or something I can take that will tell me?). Or if not a SAHM, then something close. 

I want Holls to feel both limitless and reasonable. I want her to feel free but to also recognize the ideologies we all subscribe to in order to function in American society. I want her to rebel and concede, to socialize and be independent, to question and to believe. I want her to be faithful and skeptical all at once, even though these traits often bring my own heart and soul into anxious turmoil. 

I don't want her to feel anxious turmoil. I don't want her to worry. 

I want her to be all confidence and all humility. I want her to know herself but to never be so cocky or self-assured to admit it.

I also don't want to hold her to any of these expectations, because I never want her to feel that I'm disappointed in her.

So that's where I'm at. 

I had another baby. I love my babies. I don't know what's best for them or how to be what's best for them.

And those are my thoughts here at the end of September.