Consistency

They (those officious parenting experts) always say that CONSISTENCY is the most important aspect of parenting.

Areas in which we are not the most consistent:

1. Maintaining a behavior reward system (I did buy the makings of a ten-step chart, once upon a time).

2. Remembering the tooth fairy.

3. Eating a diet high in fruits and vegetables and low in sugar.

4. Flossing.

5. Annual family pictures.


Areas in which we are very consistent:

1. Bedtime.

2. Santa Claus.

3. Doctor appointments, brushing, and bathing.

4. Eye drops, eye patching, hugs and kisses.

5. Making baby boys.

And now you know why this was my favorite song from the Glee finale.

Night Out, Conference, and New Blog

Ugh. I'm falling rapidly behind on the Best of 2009 Blog Challenge. Must be why it's called a challenge.


December 5. Best Night Out. Much Ado About Nothing at Sand Harbor. My husband watches Shakespeare with me and likes it. I love that man.

December 6. Best Conference. Special Stake Conference with Elder David Bednar. Out here in "the mission field," we don't get many visits from General Authorities, much less one of the Twelve. The last apostle to speak in our stake was some 18+ years ago. Elder Bednar was well worth the wait.

My favorite idea, among many: "Do not be weary with well-doing." I was feeling pretty weary at the time, with a new baby and a big responsibility calling. It was a good reminder that "well-doing" is always a good thing.

Another highlight of the conference was the fire alarm which necessitated evacuation and inspection by the fire department before Elder Bednar could speak. I swear my boys were all accounted for.

And thanks to Jake's persistance, we waited in line to shake Elder Bednar's hand. The boys were very mature as they exchanged solid handshakes, Dan said a few words, and I was speechless. But luckily I had Pete on my hip (then a mere 24 lbs of adorableness), and Elder Bednar said, "Oh he's a bruiser, isn't he?" Then he squeezed Pete and asked, "You want to play ball with me, don't you?"

(It's good I have this blog challenge so I can record these memories, since you all know how far behind I am on baby scrapbooks.)

December 7. Blog Find of the Year. Andelin Empire. Carrie was my first friend when we moved back here, originally because we had the only two kids in nursery and then because we had a lot of fun together. We lost touch when they sold (when the market was high, smart cookies) and moved to Idaho. I found her blog this year and reconnected. I love the photos of her life on the ranch, the one room schoolhouse her children attend, and the fun crafts she somehow finds time to do. I savor imagining a simple life away from everything and everybody, even though I know life on a ranch is hard work. What can I say, I'm a sucker for escapism.

Best Article and Book

December 3: Best Article.

At first I couldn't think of a single article. Most of what I read in magazine occurs in such a stop and go pattern, it's a wonder I remember having read anything at all. While lamenting to my husband, he reminded me of this article from Outside: "They Call Me Groover Boy." Tales from one man's life at the helm of a Colorado River latrine raft.

It was filled with fascinating facts:

"Every summer, about 25,000 people opt to ride motorboats, oar rafts, or dories down all or part of the river corridor through the [Grand Canyon], a route that stretches 277 miles from the eastern head, at Lees Ferry, to the western terminus, on the shores of Lake Mead. These trips usually take between one and three weeks, and because the average person will produce an ounce of excrement for every 12 pounds of body weight each and every day, the river-running industry generates more than 100,000 pounds of human waste per year. Inside a narrow canyon that receives less than nine inches of annual rainfall and endures summer daytime highs in excess of 110 degrees, it doesn't take much to imagine how ugly things could get if waste weren't handled with extreme care."


With scientific discoveries:

"A Flagstaff-based biologist, [Steve] Carothers completed his first canyon trip for the Arizona Academy of Sciences in the spring of 1971. He was so horrified by what he saw that he set out to devise a better way. He quickly realized that a WWII rocket box, which could be purchased at any army surplus store for $10 to $15, offered an ideal container system. The trick was figuring out how to control the methane, a by-product of anaerobic decomposition, to prevent overheated boxes from detonating. (After cooking in direct sunlight, the expanding miasma of methane is capable of blowing the lid off the groover and enveloping an unsuspecting boatman in a blast of superheated crap. It's happened before; boatmen tremblingly refer to this phenomenon as a "pooplosion.")

Carothers performed rudimentary tests involving glass jars, pipettes, and methane-generating contributions from his office co-workers. (Don't ask.) He discovered that an ounce of formaldehyde was "extremely effective at retarding the gas production." In the fall of 1976, he published an article in Downriver Magazine called "It's Time for Change, Let's Haul It All Out!" which featured detailed instructions on the rocket-box system. In 1978, the Park Service made his technique mandatory—and, with only minor modifications, the system is still used today.

"What a tremendous difference it's made," says Carothers. "This is probably the most significant contribution I've made to science and wilderness in the last 31 years.""

And with philosophy:

"Despite your best efforts, it is not always possible to deal with your shit responsibly. But every now and then? Your shit will just take care of itself."


Maybe it was because this was the article that convinced us to renew our subscription, or maybe it was because I spent the better part of 2009 dealing with an anal retentive, chronically constipated three-year-old. At any rate, this article made the best of 2009 list for me.


December 4: Best Book.

I was going to put "The Book Thief," but Goodreads proved I read it last December. So I'm going with "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society." This book was an absolute delight. One of my favorite parts of this book is the letter from the fisherman Eben Ramsey when he discusses his favorite sentence from William Shakespeare.

"I wish I'd know those words on the day I watched those German troops land, plane-load after plane-load of them--and come off ships down in the harbor! All I could think of was damn them, damn them, over and over. If I could have thought the words "the bright day is done and we are for the dark," I'd have been consoled somehow and ready to go out and contend with circumstance--instead of my heart sinking to my shoes."



Literature give us words to describe our lives. I was reminded of the time I truly understood what Robert Frost meant when he said "I have been one acquainted with the night" and how that phrase comforted me. I loved this book for its style and story, and for providing an example of how books literally saved people during the German occupation.

And yes, I was on a WWII kick for 2009.

December Countdown

Yesterday I read a blog that encourages a December countdown of favorites from 2009. Since I'm so far behind on blogging, I thought this may be the thing to spice things up around here.


December 1: Obviously the best trip of the year was the San Francisco adventure. It was so good that I'm still writing about it. Four. Months. Later.

Let me sum up our last day in the city with this piece of advice: DO NOT take a trolley ride (even if it's freeeeee! with your city pass) while parked in two hour parking.

Dan and I had never rode a trolley (horrors!). Neither had the kids. Since boys love all things vehicular, we decided it would be the perfect end to our vacation (the promise of an ice cream sundae for lunch at Ghiradelli Square was also persuasive). We felt decidedly urban when we parked the massive Yukon two blocks up from Ghiradelli and walked down to the nearby trolley turnaround.

We didn't panic while waiting in line for 45 minutes, even though Nate ate all the teddy grahams I was doling out singularly to Pete to keep him happy in the stroller (a nice lady sacrificed her emergency graham cracker packet from her backpack for Pete).

We also didn't panic as we went up, up, and up and over the city to Union Square. However, when we got to Union Square and were told, not once, but thrice, that this was the end of the line, we started to panic. See, a turnaround trolley stop doesn't mean that one can simply ride through the turnaround.

(Dan is starting to panic.)

Every one must exit and reboard. Duh. And the line at Union Square was at least an hour long. Add three hungry kids and an overtired baby to a two hour parking space and you get UGH.

Had we been truly urban, we would have gotten off the trolley at any one of the dozen stops along the way and simply boarded the next trolley heading back where we came from.

Since we weren't, we hiked a couple blocks up, hoping to get six people and a stroller loaded onto the next packed trolley. I wasn't too keen on the boys hanging onto the outside poles (trust me, they were), so we accepted the offer of a limo driver with a Slavic(?) accent, who may or may not have had a legitimate license, to drive us all back to Ghiradelli Square for $20. I use the term limo loosely, for although that's what the automobile was, it had definitely seen better days some thirty years ago. On the bright side, the boys were completely impressed with "THE LIMO!!"

Our snazzy ride was punctuated:
1) by Pete's screaming until he fell asleep (and yes, it was one of those times I was more than okay with letting the baby scream),
2) by the driver stopping every two minutes to solicit more passengers, and
3) by the driver offending a heavier-set African American woman by telling her to "Squeeze over! I can fit four Asians in your spot!"

Of course he thought we cheated him when we handed him the twenty.

But the bright side is that Dan sprinted up to our parking space and discovered . . . wait for it . . . NO TICKET! He moved the car, and we thoroughly enjoyed our sundaes.

We left the city via the Bay Bridge (another cheap thrill for the boys) and Oakland. For some reason, Jake was fascinated with Oakland and couldn't wait to see it. I'm sure we saw its best parts on our way by.

December 2: Best meal in a restaurant . . . The Training Table in Salt Lake City. So it's not the classiest joint, but for artery clogging goodness you can't beat a Blue Bacon Burger with Cheese Fries and the Ultimate Dipping Sauce and a gallon-sized Diet Coke. Plus it brought back so many memories from our college days: to-go orders as a freshman, the night we got engaged before watching BYU men's volleyball beat Stanford, and the lunch with all my law school friends after our last final exam. And once every couple years shouldn't kill me, right?



Still working on the linky-loo to the best of 2009 blog. Thursday morning--wahoo! I got the link hooked up. Now onto the button.

Day 4--More San Francisco

***I know, I know. It's incredibly pathetic that I'm still trying to finish the summary of our family vacation from August and it's nearly Thanksgiving. I am pathetic. And a loser. Just ask Sara how far behind I am on my sewing projects--by Christmas, I promise! But enough self-flagellating, for now . . . and on with the show.



We planned incredibly well for our second full day in the city by the Bay. We packed lunches and snacks and scouted out parking. We made it to Pier 39 for the first morning Blue & Gold Fleet Bay Cruise under the Golden Gate Bridge and around Alcatraz.

We roared at the famous sea lions.

It was one of those San Francisco mornings that brought to mind Mark Twain's famous saying, "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco." We were glad we brought sweatshirts, but they weren't enough. At least the cloud cover helped for some good pictures.

And what is it about motherhood that brings out the constant fear of impending death? Here I was, with a tight grip on Pete, but still planning how I'd have to jump in after him if he fell overboard because of course, he'd sink. I suppose it's best to always be prepared.

Under the bridge, downtown.
(Sorry, I couldn't help singing the Red Hot Chili Peppers.)

Do you recognize "The Rock?"

After the bay cruise, we cruised through the Aquarium of the Bay in 45 minutes flat. There were some highlights--

like the jellies,

and the shark that Jake touched who decided to take a snap at him--but I definitely would have been disappointed if we'd paid full price for admission.


We ate lunchables in the car, fed and changed Pete, and moved on to the Exploratorium. This was AWESOME! Picture a massive science fair, with super cool exhibits. Kids were running around like maniacs, but only with crazed fun and excitement.

There were giant bubble makers.

Does this guy really think he's helping?

A gyroscope.

A reflections exhibit.

Do you see that? I almost missed it too. I've never seen my butt look so small.
I think I need one of these mirrors at home.

Magnets.

A pedal generator.

A jacob's ladder.

Not to mention loads of other really fun, hands on activities. If you are ever in the bay area with elementary school-aged kids, do not miss an opportunity to visit the Exploratorium. Another bonus? Free parking.


Afterward we walked through the Palace of Fine Arts and took pictures of our offspring in, where else, a tree.



We finished the day by driving over the Golden Gate Bridge, not once, but TWICE. The carpool lane is my favorite.

Another highlight for the boys? Going through the tunnel four times while mom and dad tried to find the right exit.

Well, Hello There . . .

Baby Number 5, at twelve weeks.

Isn't this AMAZING?

It was still too early to tell the gender, though my mom tried to get the doctor to hazard a guess. He wouldn't. I can't wait to see the next ultrasound!

Halloweenie

It was a crazy day, and we didn't take nearly as many pictures of our costumes as we should have. But we had fun!

Harry Potter, the Seeker

Luke Skywalker

No! I'm the real Buzz Lightyear!

The overactive puppy.

Eight Days a Week

It appears that turning eight is reason enough to celebrate for over a week.

Two Fridays ago we celebrated Gabe's 8th birthday with his school friends. I only do a "friend" party every other year; I'm trying to maintain some sanity. This year Gabe wanted a bowling party.

This being Nevada, of course the bowling alley was attached to a casino. Which wasn't a big deal, except that Nate asked one of the seniors heading into gamble if he could give him some money (for the arcade). The man declined. Nate was confused, probably because whenever the kids ask us about casinos, we tell them that's where people go to throw away money.

My bowling ball cupcakes. I tried. Oh, and they're chocolate.

We celebrated his actual birthday on Monday by sharing chocolate cupcakes with his class and by eating out at IHOP with his grandparents and Aunt Valerie and Uncle Rob. Don't think we were shortchanging him--it's his absolute favorite restaurant. But we also didn't tell him that kids ate free.

After dinner it was cake and presents. What goes well with chocolate chip pancakes? Chocolate cake! Whose kid did you think he was anyway?

And his favorite present? The one from his brothers that Jake helped pick out with the declaration "Gabe's going to be so happy, I think he might even hug us!" The truth must be told that I had originally vowed not to purchase any of these toys when the kids paused TV and skipped back to show me the commercial. Water? Check. Mess? Check. Potential for mold? Check. Mom needs to clean up? Check. However . . . it was on sale, and Jake convinced me to cave. Four little boys and a couple big ones were fascinated.

On Tuesday Gabe attended his first ever pack meeting. I'm thoroughly convinced the BSA is engaging in some serious price gouging.

Thursday was costumes and Halloween parties at school. For you non-Nevadans, that's because Nevada Day is October 31st, and we always get a day off school. Isn't my little seeker the cutest?

So, that left Friday with no school and no work for Dad and Gabe's uncles. So we scheduled Gabe's baptism.

He's so cute, I mean handsome, in his sportjacket. And the refreshments? Chocolate cookies and milk, of course.

We really need more practice taking family pictures.

And we still had to go trick-or-treating that night!! (In the capital city, trick-or-treating is scheduled the day before, so as to not interfere with the Nevada Day Parade.) Costume pictures coming up next.

"The world must be peopled."

--Benedick, Much Ado about Nothing, Act II, Scene III.


We couldn't think of anyone better for the job.


It is with excitement, a little trepidation, open arms and crowded closets that we anticipate the arrival of number 5 next May.



And I can finally get this chorus out of my head.



It also explains why my blog has been such a blahg lately. Like that? I just invented a new word. Always multitasking.

Quirky Sayings

I know, I know. I'm bored with the travelogue too. I will finish it eventually, just for posterity's sake.


Some things the kids have said lately that I don't want to forget.

Nate, upon seeing a picture of his cousin Anne: "Hey! That's Sam's little baby girl brother!"

Jake: "Say 'toy boat' three times fast. That's called a tongue twister. Wanna hear another tongue twister? Say 'Brigham Young University.'"

Gabe, while jumping up and dancing while playing a game on the iphone: "I can't help it! I get so excited I just get all skippy!"

Nate, explaining the three large fingernail scratches down his brother's back: "It was an accident! I tripped and I was just trying to save myself." His fingers were still in a claw.

Day 3: San Faa-cisco

At least that's what Nate dubbed it.

We went totally touristy in the city by the bay. The city passes were a great deal (kids under 5 are freeeee!). Check online for city passes in your next vacation destination. (I should get paid for these promos, shouldn't I?)

The first day we went to the California Academy of Sciences. The city pass said the best time to visit was in the morning, but seriously, that place was more crowded than a Costco on Saturday morning. Almost claustrophobia-inducing. However, once you elbowed your way past the mob and looked past the 500 million displays on global warming, it was pretty cool.

The aquariums (fresh, salt, swamp, and jellies) were awesome!

Who knew some fish give birth to live ones? We waited for 20 minutes, but her labor stalled, so we took off.

The albino alligator was cool, but he didn't move, so the boys didn't think much of him.

The outside area where we ate snacks was also a highlight.

Here are the boys pretending to slalom ski down the hill--acting out a new Wii game.

And playing with giant stone cats.

And what's up with us picking benches I've visited before?

The rain forest was, well as one would expect, hot and muggy. There were tons of butterflies and nearly as many signs reminding you to wipe any butterflies off yourself before you left in the elevator. There was even a guy sweeping for butterflies under strollers, etc. at the last door. When Dan asked him how many butterflies he found each day, he said about one or two a month. It must feel good to know you are doing such an essential job. That's job security.


And the most exciting thing about the living roof?

The elevator.

There was also a planetarium show, which we missed because 1) strollers weren't allowed in, and 2) we didn't pick up the tickets first thing, so we wouldn't have been able to get into a show until 6 pm.

It would have been a good idea to pack more snacks, since we spent much longer there than we expected. Hungry kids and parents make for grumpy travelers. We spent the rest of the afternoon driving around SF looking for parking and debating what to do in the time we had, and finding emergency potty stops for Gabe (which is much easier in the mountains). We were all happier after a meal at Romano's Macaroni Grill. I know, I know, all the great restaurants in SF and we ate at a chain. But in our defense, it's more than a little daunting to try an unknown restaurant with four little picky eaters.