Changes

I keep changing the look of my blog. I'm just trying to find something that I really like...thats really me. This current one feels pretty good. We'll see how long it lasts.

I'm It

So my sister 'tagged' me earlier this week. I enjoy reading other people's blogs when they have been tagged, but I confess I'm not all that eager to do my own. But here goes. 

The rules of this particular game are that I have to link to my sister's blog, and then post 7 random or weird things about myself. Also I'm suppose to tag 7 other people. This I am not going to do because every other person I know with a blog either just did a tag like this or wouldn't do it at all if I did tag them. So this tag will stop with me. Sorry.

All right. 7 things. Here goes.

1. I firmly believe that the Word of Wisdom is a commandment and is good for us and I am committed to keeping it. However, if there was one part of it that I wish I didn't have to follow, it would be the no coffee part. I love coffee so much, I walk down the coffee isle at the grocery store just so I can smell it. I have to rush myself past Starbucks at the mall so I'm not tempted to go inside. Every week I talk myself out of buying coffee flavored ice cream. It truly feels a sacrifice to me to deny myself this pleasure. 

2. I rarely wear make-up and seldom put much effort into doing my hair. I tell myself that this is because natural is good and that I don't really need to paint myself to look good. The truth is that I don't really have the necessary skills to put on make-up and style my hair nicely. 

3. When Sam was born we hadn't yet chosen a name for him. We had a list of 3 or 4 names, but Samuel was definitely not one of the final contenders. However, when I got my first look at him, the thought popped in my mind 'Oh, he looks like a Hobbit!'. And since I couldn't name my son Bilbo, Frodo, Peregrine, or Meriadoc, he became Sam. It is Samuel, not Samwise, however. I am not completely crazy.

4. I love desk calendars. You know the kind that you rip off a page every day and there's something to read for each date? Last year I had a Farside one; this year is Mary Englebright. There's just something terribly satisfying at being able to rip off each day as it passes.

5. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love reading. It is as necessary as food, water, air, and sleep to me. I love new books, but what I love even more is rereading my old favorites. I can't even tell you how many times I've read 'Pride and Prejudice', 'Beauty', 'The Scarlet Pimpernel', 'The Anne of Green Gable Series' and many more. I almost always have an old favorite that I'm skimming through, hitting all my favorite parts, in addition to any new books I'm reading. 

6. I would love to be an artist. I'm not too particular on what branch of art; painting, drawing, music, sculpture, photography, writing, even quilting would be great. Actually, if I had to choose one medium, it would be painting. I would love to be able to sit down and just create something. Sadly, I have not the talent. My drawing skills are not much more advanced then Sam's. Someday I hope to take some lessons, maybe in watercolors. But I know I will never be the kind of artist I want to be. 

7. When I was in high school, a friend gave me the nickname of Springprincess. (19 more days!)

Well, there you are. Not terribly interesting, I know. But that's all I could come up with right now. Cheers

At the tone the time will be...

Within days of Sam's birth I found myself obsessed with time. I always was wondering what time it was, how long it had been since I had gotten any sleep, when was the last time I had fed Sam, how long he was sleeping, etc. We had clocks in our apartment, but they were all downstairs, and our bedroom, (and bathroom), which I lived exclusively in since a painful epesiodomy made stairs impossible, had just my little alarm clock which did NOT have a light on it making telling time at night impossible. It was becoming all-consuming, this need to know what time it was. Finally after about a week of fretting about it, I dragged Rob to Walmart (in the middle of the night) to buy a clock with glow in the dark numbers. Ahhh, bliss. To be able to know the time the instant Sam woke me up with his crying was wonderful. Sam waking me up with his crying was not wonderful, but that's another story. Not only did I know what time it was, but the clock had a radio so I could listen to intelligent conversation on NPR after Rob left for work and I was home alone with  a newborn.

I no longer have this obsession with time. Or maybe I do, but I don't notice it much anymore because in every subsequent apartment I have made sure that there is a plethora of clocks. In our current home there are very few places where you would have to do more then just turn your head to see what time it is. This makes being at other people's homes difficult for me. Especially when I'm there for longer then just a day. Visiting with my in-laws has been especially tough as they don't seem to have this need to know. Rob's sister Karen's house especially. There were only two clocks in her house, the microwave and oven clock, and they were right next to each other. It used to drive me crazy! His other sister, Susan, has a great big, lovely clock right in the central portion of the house that can be seen from many different angles and many different rooms. But it is always, ALWAYS, either not running or hours off. Rob does not share my compulsion, but he is sympathetic. Whenever we were at Karen's he would randomly tell me what time it was, just so I would know. And he got me a lovely watch for Christmas. Bless the man.

All this leads up to what I wanted to write about. We got Sam an alarm clock for Christmas in an attempt to head the 5:30 wake-ups off at the pass. For the last two months we've been drilling it into him that on school days his clock needs to say 6:30am before he can get out of bed, and we're trying to get him to wait till 7:00 on the weekends, with mixed success. He's been excited to have his own clock and loves that it has a night light and is battery operated so he can carry it around, but really, he didn't get time. The clock just had numbers that changed, usually when he wasn't looking. But about 3 weeks ago, he suddenly got it. Somehow the concept of measuring time clicked in his brain; his clock no longer just said six, three, zero, but actually said six thirty and he KNEW WHAT THAT MEANT! This is, of course, very exciting that my oldest understands this concept. What isn't so exciting is that he now feels the need to tell me what the time is ALL the time. Every few minutes he'll come running to me with the latest updates. He'll be playing in his room and then start yelling out to me, "Mom, its 3:30!", really excited and expecting me to be excited too. He'll run back and forth between the kitchen and my bedroom, watching the microwave clock and my clock to see if they change at the same time. And all this is getting really, really annoying. Rob says its just that understanding time is a new thing for Sam and it will wear off soon. I think it may be punishment for my obsessions when he was born. Somehow or other my preoccupation with time got into the breast milk, I just know it, and I'll be spending the rest of my life trying to get away from knowing what time it is!

Tub o' Love

Since a few people have asked about the tub in my header pic, let me explain. It is not our tub, more's the pity, but belongs to Rob's mom, or at least it belongs to the apartment that Rob's mom is renting. The apartment is a one bedroom that connects to this guys law office. Apparently he and his wife and two kids lived in the one bedroom for YEARS (two kids= boy and girl into their teenage years. Talk about hellish!) until he decided to upgrade and now rents out the apartment. Unfortunately the tub is pretty much the best thing about the apartment. Its really old and so mustily smelly; not in such a great part of town and is right next to a vet's office that has kennels for pet-sitting and in the summer time you wouldn't believe the racket!

Today at lunch

Sam: Mom, can we have wine with our lunch

Mom: Ummm, no

Sam: Ok

pause while mom tries to figure out if this is a teaching moment or not

Mom: So, how do you know about wine?  Were you talking about wine at school with your friends?

Sam: No, it was in the scriptures

slightly panicked mom tries to figure out where in the scriptures we were reading about wine.

Mom finally says something about the wine in the scriptures really meant grape juice which yes, I know is not true but will do for an explanation for a 5 year old. Later I realized that we read about King Noah being a wine bibber a few weeks ago which would have been a good story to review to talk about NOT drinking wine. By then the moment had passed. Alas