Kentall

We have been cured

2012-01-25T21:54:00.004-06:00

Top shelf: all the drugs we consumed this past week. Awesome.

After a week of illness (strep for Thomas and I, double ear infection for Abby - lots and lots of fun), I am happy to say that the antibiotics have run their full ten-day course, and we are now healthy and germ free. It's nice to see Abby back to her happy self and not have to shove medicine down kids' throats (although, Thomas quit resisting the meds once we let him give them to himself in a syringe). It's also nice to be able to swallow without searing pain. And, Kenta? That lucky guy managed to escape the week o' illness with nary a cough or sneeze.

Quarantine is over. Y'all can come over and play!

The Primary Colors are one, two, three: red, white, and blue

2012-01-22T15:31:00.005-06:00

I'm really behind on posting stuff, mostly because we're recovering from the worst week of sickness in the history of our family...and partially because I'm a bit lazy. Okay. Mostly because I am lazy.

So, the outcome of yesterday's primary in South Caroline has made me pine for the days when Newt Gingrich was seen for the despicable human being that he really is. You know. Like last week. Don't know what went down in SC for people to suddenly think, "Hey! This ethically challenged adulterer would make a FANTASTIC president!!", but we do things right in NH. As in: Newt did not win here.

I'm still a little fired up and disappointed about yesterday's outcome, but you know what? That's what makes America great. We have the freedom to express ourselves at the voting booth, and while the system is not perfect and mistakes are made (Iowa, anyone?), it's still - in my opinion - the best system in the world. I am proud to be an American. Even when 40% of voters in SC yesterday voted for THE WORST (again - my opinion) candidate to represent the Republican party. If that's what the people choose, that's what they get. And I have to be okay with the fact that the majority of South Carolinian voters yesterday do not share my dislike of Newt Gingrich. It still makes me sick to my stomach, though.

Anyway....because I'm just so dang giddy about this beautiful republic that we live in, I wanted my kids to get a taste of how the process works. So I took them to the polls with me. Our very first NH presidential primary.

It felt really great being able to take part in this process. Did my candidate* win? Nope. Not by a long shot. But I don't regret my vote. I felt that I voted for the person that best reflected what I want in a president. There wasn't a candidate out there that didn't have flaws, of course, but I voted for the one that I really thought would be best. Sure, I still disagree with him on some issues, but I picked the one that I thought was closest to what I want in a president. There is no perfect candidate out there. Nor will there ever be.

It just saddens me that so many people are willing to overlook the fact that a candidate is morally bankrupt...and vote for them anyway.

Sigh. I did my part. Please do yours.

*If you really want to know - because I know you really do - I voted for Rick Santorum.

One day....

2012-01-15T19:03:00.004-06:00

One day I will look back on this day and think, "Remember that time when Abigail was sick? And Kenta stayed home from church with her? And I was feeling a tad sketchy myself, but attributed it to having been up with Abigail so many times during the night, so I decided to take Thomas to Stake Conference by myself anyway so I could get out of the house? And 30 min. into conference, Thomas looks up at me and said, "Mommy! I need to burp!"? And I grabbed him and ran out of the chapel because I almost threw up in Stake Conference once (morning sickness with Abby...I barely made it to the ladies' room on time) and didn't want the same to happen to him? And we had someone go back in and get our stuff so we could leave early and get him home? And our car was boxed in, so we were stuck? And we found a quiet classroom with a ~~barf bucket~~ trashcan and he fell asleep on the floor?

Looking back, I really should have known this day would be doomed when I checked the weather and saw this:

Oh, man. Some day I will look back on the events of today and possibly laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Thankfully, we made it home sans burpisode. Temperatures were checked (Abby, Thomas, and I are all hovering around 101 degrees...nice...), medicine administered, and naps partaken. Kenta has been the lone survivor. He took care of everything - even made us all chicken soup - while I whimpered in bed. I really hope his health continues to be spared. Kind of amazing how quickly illness can strike. And kind of amazing how much MORE you appreciate your good health when you (or your kids) are sick.

On having 9 AM church...

2011-11-27T13:23:00.009-06:00

There was a time in my life that I didn't really care what time church started.

Then I had a baby.

At that time, church started at 1:00 pm. For the first few months (maybe it was only weeks?) it was great. We could sleep in, leisurely eat breakfast and get ourselves ready. At church, Thomas would sleep in our arms or the car seat. Life was good. Then he started not sleeping in our arms or the car seat. Life (at church, anyway) became very complicated. Seasoned parents all around is said, "Ohhhh...1:00 church is really hard on the little guys. 9:00 AM is SO much better!". I was excited to finally experience the wonderment of 9 AM church.

Then we moved.

And guess what?

Our new church started at 1:00 pm.

After another year of enduring a cranky, nap-deprived child at 1:00 church, it was finally our turn for the coveted 9 AM time slot.

And guess what?

I've had nearly a year of 9 AM church....and I still don't think it's any better. Granted, I now have a baby that takes morning naps and (obviously) cannot take her morning nap very well on Sunday. If it were just Thomas, we'd be spreading the good news about how wonderful 9 AM church is.

Truth be told, there probably never is a good time for church when you have a napping child. Church is always going to interfere with someone's nap, whether it's your child, or the child that is antagonizing your child in nursery because they are sleep-deprived. Somebody is going to get the short end of the stick. If you have a baby that no longer naps peacefully in your arms or in the car seat, you will probably spend a good deal of church pacing the hallways, so as to limit the amount of noise your fussy child will inflict upon other churchgoers.

When my mom was a young mom, she was once out in the foyer with my oldest brother (he was barely one year old) and my sister (she was a newborn) and a man asked her, "Why do even bother coming to church when you end up sitting out here for most of it?". This upset my mom so much, she vowed right then and there to never let any excuse keep her from attending church - even if it meant spending the majority of it out in the hall with her children.

I thought about this every Sunday when Thomas was a baby, as I walked the halls with him in my arms. I think about it now when I walk with Abigail.

Did I get to sit through an entire class at all today? Nope. But I did make it to the last 5 minutes of Sunday school. I might have missed the entire lesson, but I did deduce that the class had been discussing the Book of James. I left the class thinking, "Hmmm...I should really study James when I get home". I would have missed out on that inspiration if I had chosen to just stay home today.

After Sunday school, I ended up back in the hall again with Abby. I saw her point at a picture of Jesus on the wall and smile. Shortly after, we went to pick up Thomas from nursery and he came running to me with a picture in his hand And said, "It's Jesus, Mommy!"

This is why I go to church. Never mind that Kenta was sick today and I had the kids by myself and we had three epic cheerio spills all over the pew and aisle within the span of about 30 seconds. I was where I needed to be. And even though Kenta was sick, he was super helpful getting the kids ready......even if he didn't exactly know how a cardigan is supposed to be worn. And Thomas looked dapper, as usual, because his daddy always ties his ties with the utmost care:
I thought we'd try and get a group shot, but things got out of hand(don't know what's with the creepy baby cataracts...maybe my lens is dirty?)
really quickly
Maybe next Sunday?

Tough decisions

2011-11-23T13:06:00.005-06:00

After an epic battle between Thomas and I over sitting on the potty, I was trying to decide whether or not to a) skip Thomas's nap so he would go poop in the potty or b) take a risk and put Thomas down without him pooping first. (sorry about the poop talk - if you've potty trained a kid, you know it can be a huge obstacle in pt-ing, if you haven't potty trained a kid....just you wait! MWHAHAHAHAHA). Anyway, I couldn't make up my mind what I wanted to do because what I REALLY wanted him to do was just go poop in the dang potty, but obviously, I couldn't force that. So while I was stewing in the kitchen and Thomas was stewing in the living room, I noticed that it had become eerily quiet from his end of the house. Uh, oh. Alarm bells were ringing. Silent children are never up to any good. I dropped what I was doing and ran into the living room and this is what I found:

I immediately forgot how frustrated I was with him and remembered the last time Thomas fell asleep like this:

Thomas, July 2010

Coincidentally, this also occurred after a tantrum.

So, thank you to my adorable son for making a tough decision easier for me today by making the decision himself.

That said, my fingers, toes, and eyes are crossed that I won't find any unpleasant surprises in his bed when he wakes up.

It's only taken him 8 months...

2011-11-15T19:28:00.007-06:00

...but Thomas has FINALLY figured out how to get his little digits properly arranged in response to the oft asked question, "How old are you?"

It seems like a very small accomplishment, but we're all about celebrating the little things around here. We've endured months and months and months of guiding his little fingers into their proper position...only to have him let his thumb go loose and straighten out his ring finger and pinky. It always looked like he was telling people he was five years old (instead of two).

His little fingers are getting tired of me trying to take a good picture.

To save ourselves the trouble of having to explain that Thomas really isn't five (or two, since we FINALLY got that one figured out), we've been thinking ahead to the next birthday:

You'd think he'd be happy to mug for the cameras and show off his new skillz. Ha! Do something that I request him to do? NEVER! Luckily, I'm not opposed to marshmallow bribes.

I might have stuffed this in his mouth while he was throwing a fit. Also, please enjoy the sticker that he had Kenta tape to his left hand.

I suppose I'd be a little resistant, too, if my mom kept letting the flash go off in my face.

Conversations with Thomas

2011-11-14T13:24:00.004-06:00

This morning while I was getting the kids dressed, I paused what I was doing to rub my eyes a bit (you'd rub your eyes a lot too, if your baby was waking up at 5:00 a.m.). Apparently this concerned Thomas and the following conversation ensued:

T - Mommy, are you sad?

K - Nope. Just rubbing my eyes.

T - Are you happy?

K - Yes, I am. Are you happy?

T - Yeah!

K - Why are you happy?

T-Because I'm not sad!

Ahhhh....the joys of a simple life. To need nothing more than the absence of sadness to declare oneself to be happy! No wonder Christ told us to become more like little children.

It was a good weekend

2011-10-12T12:54:00.003-05:00

I know it's been a few days, but in case you haven't heard, we beat Texas again. It was a happy day here en la casa de Hood. This was Abby's first OU/TX. She may not have been "Sooner born" but she is definitely "Sooner bred":

If her onesie looks familiar, it might be because Thomas wore it two years ago (when the Sooners, unfortunately, did not fare as well):

Yay for awesome hand-me-downs....and BOOMER SOONER!!!!!

Neglect

2011-10-08T20:09:00.004-05:00

Three years ago, I would have wept at this sight.

In case you can't see what is so gut-wrenching: there, my friends, lies not one, but TWO broken harps strings. I'm not even going to out myself by mentioning how long they have been this way.

In my BC life (or "Before Children" life) these strings would have most likely broken while I was a) practicing or b) getting ready to practice. The broken strings would then have been promptly replaced, and a record of it would have been kept in my "string replacement journal" (yeah - I used to keep track of which strings would break, so I knew which ones were needing replacement most often so I could always have spares handy). In short, broken strings would NOT have gone unreplaced for more than a few hours.

Unfortunately, this beautiful creature currently isn't getting the love and attention she deserves. I look at her and long to spend time with her, but my attention is pretty divided these days. My goal is to change the strings tomorrow. And if I change them, I have to tune them. And if my harp is tuned up, I might as well strum a few chords. And if I'm strumming some chords, I could mix it up and play some arpeggios...and as long as I'm doing that, I could just go ahead and play some real music, right? Right.

I'm already feeling better about forgoing my Sunday afternoon ~~game of fruit ninja~~ scripture study for a little quality time with the old gal. I've missed her.

Conference: a review

2011-10-05T12:11:00.004-05:00

I am always grateful for the advances of modern technology, but perhaps the time I am most grateful for this is during General Conference. In my pre-kid life (or, as another mother once told me "my B.C. or 'before children' life"), I was a diligent, get-dressed-in-my-Sunday-clothes-and-go-to-the-church-with-notebook-in-hand-for-all-four-sessions-of-Conference type of attendee. I think I started attending all four sessions when I was about 14 or 15 and with very few exceptions (a few Saturday sessions on my mission and Saturday morning during my race), I haven't missed watching a session of Conference live. Since having kids, we have only watched Conference at home (either our home or someone else's). In some ways, it's nice being able to watch Conference while the kids nap upstairs. In other ways, it makes it sooooo much easier to get distracted and not pay attention (or fall asleep on your couch). And when the kids are awake? I'll just let the picture speak for itself:

Kenta, trying to calm Abby (who was having a major meltdown) with a round of "Ito maki maki" while Thomas drives trains in the buff (he apparently likes to get REALLY comfortable while watching Conference). So...yeah. Bits and pieces were definitely gleaned, but my first thought at the end of Conference was, "Wow. I really need to listen to all of that again. And again. And again."

All of this to say, I am very grateful for the speediness at which Conference talks are available for reviewing after a session has ended. On Saturday while Kenta was at his Priesthood meeting, I watched part of the Saturday morning session that I had missed. When I was growing up (well...the pre-internet years of my growing up) we had to wait a few weeks for the Conference talks to come via the Ensign. Now, you can almost immediately access them on the internet. And as I've started listening to Conference again, I can't help but thinking, "where much is given, much is required". We have all of these inspiring messages, readily available to review and share. What am I doing with them? Am I reviewing them? Am I applying them? Am I sharing the messages with others?

While there were so many good talks (as there always are at Conference), there was one in particular that touched me. Boyd K. Packer specifically addressed the "rising generation" (and I still include myself in this group) with some very wise counsel. He spoke of personal experiences, such as his reaction to the news of Pearl Harbor when he was a senior in high school. He was very unsure of his future, if he would live through the war, or if it was "the beginning of the end", as far as the world was concerned. Hearing him speak about his concerns and uncertainty during this time, I was reminded of my own concerns and uncertainty right after 9/11 - when I was a senior in high school. And here he was, 87 years old, having lived (and still living) a long, full life, despite living through troubling times. With all the uncertainty and turmoil in the world today, it was a good reminder to me that I need to look forward with faith. I do not know what tomorrow or next year or the next decade brings for me, my family, my country, or the world, but I know in Whom I trust and Whose side I am on. What a beautiful message of hope that is for all of us.

And now, a word from Abby:

2011-10-02T19:14:00.004-05:00

"Hey - wanna listen to some pretty music with me?"

"It's the Mormon Tabernacle Choir"

"Dontcha love Conference?"

Race report

2011-10-01T19:29:00.001-05:00

I finished the Applefest 1/2 Marathon today. After Abby was born, I set a goal to run it as a way to motivate myself to get back in shape. I actually started (finally) getting back into running right around the time I got pregnant with Abby. I had registered to do the Applefest last year, but when I found out I was pregnant, I decided to run the team 1/2 marathon, with Kenta as my teammate. Here was me at the Applefest a year ago:

And here I was today:

I totally chose the picture where I wasn't looking, but Abby was.

Abby was a passenger last year. I was more than glad to leave her with her daddy and run alone this year.

It was a cool, wet day. Nearly perfect running conditions. I felt pretty good starting out, but around mile 5, I really started hurting. And getting thirsty. There were water stops every 2 miles, but I was needing them every mile. I started to feel better again then things really started to go downhill around mile 8. Correction: things starting going UPHILL - I just started going downhill at that point. The hills really kicked my butt today. I walked. A lot. Am I disappointed that I had to walk? Yes....and no. I was not feeling well, and the walking did give me a temporary recharge, but walking is seriously the kiss of death. Once you give in, you can't stop. You just want to walk. And walk. And walk. Around mile 9, a very kind lady came up beside me and pulled me through the next 1/2 mile of hills. She was so very nice. I never found out what her name was. But she chatted with me and told me that she has four kids and started running about 5 years ago. She asked me if I had run a 1/2 before (yes, one) and I asked her if she had run the Applefest (no, but this was her 14th 1/2!! Pretty impressive). And she offered me some of her Gatorade. I happily obliged. I wish I could have stayed with her because she was being so nice and I felt bad letting her down when I had to walk, but I sent her on ahead.

Kenta was awesome. He played with the kids in the back of the minivan because it was wet and rainy outside:

Behold the hypnotic powers of Thomas the Tank Engine on the iphone. Thomas wasn't looking at the camera in a single one of these pictures.

Then he packed them up in the trailer and biked to the top of the hill at mile 10. It was so good to see them. I felt like a huge disappointment because of all the walking I had done, but I forged ahead, knowing that the end was pretty near.

I did eventually finish. I think my time was somewhere around 2:05. Not my best time, but I was just happy to finish......at least I keep trying to convince myself that I'm happy about it.

warning: the next few paragraphs contain serious Debbie Downer material. May not be suitable for happy people. Or any people, for that matter. Viewer discretion is advised.

I should feel good about having just run 13 miles, but the truth is - I'm really not. Back at the beginning of the summer when I started training, I was really excited about the Applefest. I could feel myself getting faster and stronger each time I ran. Then I got injured in August and couldn't run for almost a month. That was supposed to be the peak of my training, and I could.not.run. At that point, my emotions went from excitement to concern. I was worried about being able to run at all. I rested and eased back into training and had a really good training run about 2 weeks ago, and started to feel the excitement come back. Then I got sick and hurt my back late last week. So I went from excitement to dread. I felt like the energy and life had been sucked out of me. I knew I HAD to finish the race, but the way I was feeling, I was not looking forward to 13 miles. This week I mostly rested. I went out for one run. I wasn't feeling bad on the run, but I wasn't feeling awesome, either. I just knew I would be able to finish. After all I had been through with injury and illness, I really didn't care how long it took me. So, I was feeling pretty apathetic about the whole race in the days leading up to it. Probably not the best attitude to have if you want a good race. I just wanted to finish. And finish, I did.

I'm not writing this because I want anyone to feel sorry for me - I (mostly) ran 13 freakin' miles! That's a huge accomplishment! I could have NEVER done that 9 months postpartum with Thomas. I'm just disappointed that I really let the hills get me today. They royally spanked me. And I'm feeling very "blah" about the whole thing. I've never felt this way after a race. I usually feel like I can conquer the world. Instead I'm feeling like I wasted Kenta's time as he hauled the kids around the course in the bike to cheer for me in the rain. Not a legit way to feel, but I really let myself down, so I guess I feel like I let everyone else down.

When I got injured, I told myself that I should probably adjust my expectations, but I thought, "nahhhhh...I got this! I can gain that endurance back in three weeks!". It was more of a setback than I realized. Missing out on those long runs really hurt me today. I hate that I'm feeling so disappointed, but it is what it is. I guess I just need to write all my feelings down so Future Kendall can look back at Present Kendall and say, "Girrrrrrrl...you need to lighten up and GET.OVER.YOURSELF. This isn't the last race you will run. Learn from it and MOVE ON". And that's what I intend to do.

I try not to take myself too seriously when I run (three words: green, sparkly skirt). And I try to "enjoy the journey" as much as possible while I'm training. I have accomplished something great. I might not have PR'd today or broken 2 hrs. (that was my goal, pre-injury), but I am in way better shape now than I would have been if I hadn't chosen to train for the Applefest. And we'll be around here for a long time. I see many Applefests in my future.
And one last photo:

This is my awesome midwife, Autumn. She's looking pretty awesome for having just run 13 miles - after staying up half the night at a birth. She amazes me.

There you have it. I did it. Hooray! I've had a few hours to mull over the events of the day. I know I should (and absolutely do) feel lucky that my legs are capable of carrying my body 13 miles. It's just that feeling of disappointment that comes when you set a goal, work really hard for it, and it slips through your fingers. But life is all about overcoming challenges. Maybe this is why I keep getting sucked back into endurance races. There is nothing that feels quite as good as knowing that you did something hard and knowing that you did your best. There is also nothing that feels quite as disappointing as knowing that you stared a challenge in the face and let it smack you around like a rag doll. So, that's what I'm dealing with. Being a smacked-around rag doll. With really sore legs.

And the mother of the year award goes to.......

2011-09-30T12:49:00.000-05:00

In the past 24 hours, I have:

1) Hit him in the face with a tennis ball during a game of catch
2) Exposed him to cat dander, which, apparently he is deathly allergic to
3) Caught his belly button in his zipper while putting his jammies on (the hazards of being an outtie)
4) Stepped on his fingers while chasing after a ball (during another game of catch)
5) Left a bottle of "Easy to Open!" ibuprofen within reach of his curious hands*
6) Hurt his feelings more times than I can count

* All the pills were counted and we calculated the number of missing pills that I know I have taken in the past three weeks. We are pretty sure he didn't ingest any, but poison control was called anyway. Note to self: don't leave medicine on the counter. Even if you think your 2 yr. old can't reach it. And buy childproof bottles.

And after all of this, he still loves me.

Okay. It took a little bribing.

But I maintain that he would have loved me anyway.

2011-09-29T05:57:00.004-05:00

I really appreciate that Thomas loves tomatoes so much

I just wish he wouldn't swipe them from the displays at the grocery store. And then proceed to take a bite out of them.

Just a friendly reminder

2011-09-26T12:19:00.005-05:00

Christmas is only 3 months away.

Thomas would like you to know that he (apparently) is in need of some new trains.
Despite having to raid the silverware drawer amidst the train shortage, he found it in his heart to spare one to share with his little sister.

It really makes this mama's heart sing to see Big Brother learning how to share his toys. It's been a long time coming.

Remembering

2011-09-11T18:01:00.004-05:00

I actually wrote this post three years ago. Since then, I have had two children and have forgotten a few of the details. How grateful I am that I wrote this down before my memory got fuzzy. I never want to forget how I felt on September 11, 2001. And I want my children to know how I felt on that day, too. Ten years has passed, but I still feel these emotions so vividly when I read or hear about events that took place that day. Here is my repost of my memories of 9/11:

I am going to deviate from my usual light-hearted posts and comment on something that has been on all of our minds today.

I usually describe myself as having a "swiss cheese brain": lots of information enters, but most of it escapes through the holes. However, there are some experiences and moments that I will never forget - and September 11, 2001 is one of those moments.

I remember driving home from my early morning seminary class to eat breakfast before I went to school. Right before I got home, I heard about a plane that had crashed into the World Trade Center. I mistakenly thought that it was a small cessna that had had some unfortunate accident. I went inside and my mom was watching Fox News (that is the only TV that she ever watches). In between the time that I had heard the news report in the car and the time that I saw the news at home, another plane had crashed into the towers. They appeared to have been commercial airliners. At that point, I began to doubt that it had been an accident.

I drove to school in a haze, not really processing what was going on. Most everyone was still confused about what was happening. I did not yet realize that it was a deliberate act of terrorism. I got to school and found my brother who had gone early that day for a marching band practice. None of the band members knew about the planes. I told him quickly what had happened and then I rushed off to class.

My first class that day was AP Biology with Ms. Hill. She had a reputation as being kind of a "tough chick" - I always imagined her as Rosie the Riviter - but on this day she was particularly quiet. Nobody could really concentrate on school work, so she found a teacher that had a TV in their classroom and we all went to watch the news. That's when I saw the towers fall. As I saw them fall, I felt as if my whole future was crumbling along with them. I couldn't hold back my tears and Ms. Hill put her arm around me and gave me a hug. She was crying, too. Here I was, a senior in high school and I thought my life was over. As with the rest of America, I felt fear and vulnerability for the very first time.

The rest of the day at school was spent listening to or watching the news. We heard about the other planes and the Pentagon. We slowly learned that it was a planned terrorist attack. We still couldn't understand why it had happened here - America! - the place that was supposed to be the "land of the free and the home of the brave". I remember watching the news at home that night and thinking, "Do I even bother applying for college? Will I even be able to go? What is going to happen to us?". My sister Maren had just left on her mission the month before (as did Kenta - but I didn't know him yet). Would she be okay? I remember talking to my oldest sister on the phone a few days later and she told me about the nightmares that she had been having. She was so worried for her children. What would the world be like when I had children? Would I even get to have that opportunity? I really felt like my future was gone.

With all of the concern and uncertainty that I was feeling, I remember being anxious to hear General Conference. I wanted to hear the Prophet. I wanted to hear reassuring words that would bring peace and comfort to my soul. I remember clearly President Hinckley's remarks:

"Now, brothers and sisters, we must do our duty, whatever that duty might be. Peace may be denied for a season. Some of our liberties may be curtailed. We may be inconvenienced. We may even be called on to suffer in one way or another. But God our Eternal Father will watch over this nation and all of the civilized world who look to Him. He has declared, "Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord" (Ps. 33:12). Our safety lies in repentance. Our strength comes of obedience to the commandments of God.
Let us be prayerful. Let us pray for righteousness. Let us pray for the forces of good. Let us reach out to help men and women of goodwill, whatever their religious persuasion and wherever they live. Let us stand firm against evil, both at home and abroad. Let us live worthy of the blessings of heaven, reforming our lives where necessary and looking to Him, the Father of us all. He has said, "Be still, and know that I am God" (Ps. 46:10).
Are these perilous times? They are. But there is no need to fear. We can have peace in our hearts and peace in our homes. We can be an influence for good in this world, every one of us."

How grateful I am to live in this chosen land. I am grateful for all the freedoms and opportunities that we enjoy as citizens of this great nation. I am so thankful for the men and women today and throughout history, who have given their lives to preserve those freedoms. I hope that I will always remember the way I felt on September 11, 2001 because it changed me forever.

Do you remember?

We lost a member of our family this week...

2011-06-29T12:33:00.001-05:00

A loved and revered member of our family met a premature death at the hands of a toddler this week:

These are the remains of Thomas's first bouncy ball. It was the first toy that captured his attention for more than thirty consecutive seconds. He learned how to walk by pushing himself to a stand while holding onto the ball and then picking up the ball from the ground. Thomas and this ball shared some good times:

Untitled from healthyfatboy on Vimeo.

And when Thomas inherited a basketball hoop from a friend, this was the ball he learned to dunk with. However, the thrill of dunking in a hoop three feet off the ground was pretty short-lived. Which is how the bouncy ball met its demise here:

in the top of the floor lamp - Thomas's choice for a more challenging basketball hoop. It might have gone undiscovered for some time if I had not turned the light on, heard a huge POP! and the immediate smell of melting plastic. (and yes, that is me on the floor. I've sloooooooowly been tackling the huge task of painting all the trim in our house white - more on that, later.)

We were sad to see the little guy go. The ball really was a huge part of Thomas's babyhood/transition to toddlerhood. Thankfully, bouncy balls are in abundance and we soon found a replacement for our fallen friend:

But no bouncy ball will ever be the same as The Original. RIP, Bouncy Ball. You were the best $1.50 that I ever spent.

Addendum to "The Experiment"

2011-06-27T20:13:00.003-05:00

Okay, so I had a comment suggesting that putting the wet item in the dryer for four minutes might work just as well so I did another experiment! I also commented on using a dry iron. I appended it to the bottom of the original post so see the previous post for the extras. I figured this was the best way to get it out. If it's not up, then please check in the morning as the video is still uploading and may take a little time to be completely ready.

You think you do not understand boys...

2011-06-25T20:55:00.022-05:00

This was a long time coming but I FINALLY got around to trying it out.

So, in response to this post, I decided to defend my idea and do a little experiment. For those that do not remember, read the post.

In my attempt to keep people from nodding off at my description of the experiment, the experimentation process, and the experiment itself, which would ultimately become WAY too long to even care to read, I decided to make a video. Yes, a video. I tried to keep it as short as possible but it still ended up being 7 minutes long so forgive me and my boringness, although if you watch it all, you will be treated in whatever way I could think of on the fly with what I had available to me in the man cave.

I present, The Experiment...

View on ExposureRoom

So, there you have it. The result is in the video for all the world to see, or those who faithfully read our blog. So, do you understand boys any better now?

Disclaimer: If you ever decide to try this out, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE make sure there is no metal or anything that can melt on any piece of cloth you put in. The microwave does bad things to metal and melty things. Now, if you're in for a show, and like sparkly things, by all means, stick something metal in BUT I do not take any responsibility and should not be liable for what happens to you, your microwave, your article of clothing, your house, or anything else you may own that may be damaged in the process. In other words, DON'T DO IT!

One more thing, just to be safe, don't leave the microwave unattended if you try this out yourself. In the off chance something happens, you want to be right there to catch it just in case.

You thought you could get the result without watching the video huh? Mwa ha ha ha...and yes, we have a microwave in the basement, but it's a spare.

ADDENDUM:

View on ExposureRoom

Sorry I wasn't up to doing much during the actual experiment so I fast forwarded really fast during the four minutes this time.

There was one more comment that using a dry iron would do the trick. I think it would do a fine job but only if the iron was already on and hot. If it is cold, I think you're going to wait a little for it to heat up and then you have to dry the piece of clothing so in a bind, it's probably not the fastest way to dry something BUT if the iron is already hot, I think it will be fine. I still prefer the microwave (assuming it's clean) since I can just throw it in and do something else as I watch it on the side, but that's just me being lazy. Yes, I am a man and admit to my laziness.

Last week was a very good week.

2011-06-19T15:28:00.006-05:00

After my last post about not getting anything done these days, I was blessed with a flurry of activity during Birthiversary week.

Kenta and I had already given each other a gazillion dollars (did you know we were gazillionaires? more like multi-gazillionaires.) worth of food storage. Kenta had packed it all back in April, but we made a special trip down to the basement on our anniversary to admire his handiwork:

Celebrating 5 years of wedded bliss. (And, yes, that is a microwave in our basement.)

Because we have blown most of our cash on such frivolous things as a house, a baby, and food storage, we decided to keep the gifts simple for our/my birthiversary. The kids gave me AN ENTIRE THREE HOURS IN WHICH THEY WERE SIMULTANEOUSLY NAPPING IN PEACE with which I managed to do a little painting, priming, and mending. In fact, I regifted Kenta a shirt that I had given him for our first anniversary. It had gotten a hole in it prematurely, so I patched it up and gave it to him. It's pretty much brand new since it spent the last two years or so sitting in my mending pile. How's that for a thrifty present?

The birthday part of the birthiversary was truly an occasion to remember. My good friend, Jenn, had given birth to twins earlier in the week (one late Monday night, and one ten minutes later - on Tuesday morning! Soooo cool!) I had signed up to feed her family dinner on my birthday months ago (as in, make the food and drop it off to them), but she insisted that I bring my family and celebrate my birthday with them. Uh. Seriously, Jenn? You just had twins and you are offering to host my birthday dinner? But, for anyone who knows the lovely Jenn, there is pretty much no refusing her kindness - the only thing you can do is work out a compromise of sorts. So I made the dinner, Kenta grilled it (kabobs - my favorite!), and she volunteered her husband to make a delicious funfetti cake:

Action shot of the candle blowing (check out the streamers in the back ground - her little girls decorated - so cute!):

The funfetti masterpiece, complete with a layer of strawberries in the middle. (and no, I am not 23 - we used our imaginations to morph the "3" into the proper number).

Thank you, Jenn and family, for the memorable birthday celebration: family, friends, fun, and food. Perfection!

Kenta - not to be out done by the kids' awesome nap gift - declared a celebratory trip to IKEA. Yay!!! We packed everyone up for a trip down to IKEA, so we could find a new computer desk and browse the sofa department. I have no photographic evidence that this trip took place, but let it be known that it was Kenta's idea to gleefully and willingly take us all to IKEA. Thanks, Kenta!!

So that's that. I've finally stopped, uh, "celebrating" my birthday. It usually takes me a week to get the celebrating out of my system ("pssshh..I can have a piece of chocolate after breakfast - it's my birthday chocolate!!"), but all the birthday goodies are gone, the kids are back to their non-simultaneously napping schedule, the special treatment is over, and it's back to life as usual. But it's a great life and I feel extremely blessed to be living it. Happy birthiversary to me!

Foiled again!

2011-06-05T13:38:00.005-05:00

I just sat down to finally finish documenting our vacation (that we got home from six weeks ago!!). No sooner had my backside hit the computer chair, when a siren went off via the baby monitor. Most of this post was typed with a nursing baby in my arms. And I am so ridiculously slow at blogging when pictures are involved, I just can't do it very well when the little people are awake. This is just the latest chapter in my recently entitled memoir, Why I Never Get Anything Done During the Day: Reflections of a Mother With Young Children.

I'm pretty sure kids are built with a productivity alarm - as in "Oh no! Mom is being productive! I must stop this at once by causing a major disruption!!"

It seems like every time I get my hands covered in raw chicken or get shampoo lathered on my head or sit down on the toilet, I hear weeping, wailing, and/or gnashing of teeth that need my IMMEDIATE attention. And I only have two kids. I feel pretty lame that I can't get more done.

BUT

Even if I can't cram in the "extra" things I would like to do during the day - blogging, painting, practicing (sad that this is an "extra" in my life right now), finding Thomas a pair of new church shoes, looking for a sofa so we have somewhere to sit - the kids are always fed, clothed, and relatively happy. And that is the season I am in in life right now. I am working on managing my time better so I can fit in a few "extras", but even if I've been on task all day and still haven't made a dent in the to-do list, I'm trying to remind myself that it doesn't mean the day has been a complete waste.

I kind of felt that way yesterday, but then I saw this picture of the kids

and was reminded that no day could ever be considered a waste when it has been spent taking care of their needs.

It might take me a year to paint my downstairs, and I'm trying to come to terms with that. I will never be able to log as much practice time as I did in college. And that's okay, too. There was a season for that, and that season may come back again some day.

However, Thomas really does need some shoes that fit. If I find him a pair of shoes this week, I'll consider it to have been a wildly successful week. Kind of funny how your definition of "success" changes after you have kids.

I got absolutely nothing done today

2011-05-24T15:32:00.004-05:00

Naptime was a complete bust today. It was pretty much like a game of whack-a-mole: as soon as I got one child settled, the other one would get up (too soon). Then I would try and get the one that got up too soon to go back down, only to have the other one wake up (again - too soon) before the other one got settled again. I'm usually frustrated when this happens, but I decided to take a different approach today. Shorter naps meant more time to run errands in the afternoon (a much-needed Costco run and some returns at Old Navy) - and even some time to whip up a batch of cookies for a church activity tonight. I very well could have been grumpy about a virtually napless day, but I've actually thoroughly enjoyed the company. Thomas is the best errand-running buddy a mom could ask for. He produces a constant stream of chatter and we totally rocked out to Primary songs and nursery rhymes in the car. And he's quite the sous chef:

I secretly enjoyed the napless day. How could you not when you've got that face to keep you company?

I do not understand boys - #3

2011-05-08T19:43:00.005-05:00

It's Mother's Day, so I should really devote this entire post to recounting the awesome ways in which I was pampered by my family. I'll get to that. But first, I must recount a troubling conversation before church today:

Kenta is super-helpful on Sunday mornings getting the kids ready so we can get to church on time. We usually go Splitsville on getting the kids dressed and fed: I take Abigail and he takes Thomas. I had forgotten to iron Thomas's church shirt last night, so I was frantically doing that this morning while Kenta was getting the rest of Thomas's clothes on. The iron had some red junk on it (I have no idea where it came from - maybe some red fabric that I ironed last week?) that got all over the sleeve of Thomas's clean white shirt. It looked like crayon. I tried washing it off and ironing it again, placing another piece of cloth between the shirt and the iron so it wouldn't rub more red on it. The addition of an extra layer did not help with drying the wet sleeve up, but we were almost running late, so I just tossed the shirt to Kenta, told him it was a little wet, and ran upstairs to fix my hair. Twenty seconds later I hear this:

"Kendall?"

Me - "Yes?"

Kenta - "Can I stick it in the microwave?"

Me - "Stick wh----" *immediately realize he is talking about Thomas's shirt, throw down my hair straightener, and race to the top of the stairs* "NoooooOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!"

Kenta - "Uh. Okay. Sorry. It's just really wet."

Me - "Ack! Don't stick clothes in the microwave! Use the blow dryer instead!"

Kenta - "Well, I thought it would just help the water evaporate more quickly...."

Me - *imagining the buttons on Thomas's shirt melting in the microwave before the whole things goes up in flames* "Okay, maybe the microwave might work, but I've never heard of microwaving clothes before, so let's not do that. Here's the blowdryer."

Crisis averted....or not?

Now that I've had a few more hours to process this event, I'm really wondering: is it safe to microwave clothes? Has the male species taught me a more efficient way to dry clothing in a pinch? All these years I have been using my blowdryer...should I have been using a microwave instead? Anyone have experience microwaving clothes? How did it turn out?

The time I took the kids on vacation for two weeks and left my husband at home by himself - Part 1: Air Travel. Alone. With Kids.

2011-05-05T19:06:00.001-05:00

Friends, the title says it all. We're back from a two week vacation, in which a lot of playing and not a lot of sleeping happened. We are still trying to recover. And the sun (and our kids) rising before 5:30 a.m. is not hastening that recovery time. Anyway, when we got home and I looked through all the pictures I took, I realized that I captured very little of the fun. I guess I was too busy with the kids to really be able to document it on camera. But I want to remember the vacation in as much detail as I can. So, I'm going to have to break it down.

Before I left on our trip, I was super nervous about traveling by myself with the kids. After hitting up all my Facebook peeps for advice, I realized that I was probably worrying a leeeeetle too much. Pretty much everyone assured me that there would be super nice people to help out along the way. Which turned out to be true.

Here is a picture of The Load. For posterity and such.

Me with a) Abby strapped in a Bjorn on my front b) a big honkin' Britax carseat on my back c) pushing a stroller d) Thomas in the stroller e) my backpack one hung one handle of the stroller and f)Thomas's backpack hanging on the other handle of the stroller. Obviously this was not taken in the airport, as we all look very happy and relaxed (and there is a frog potty in the corner of the room). I didn't have actual airport footage of me with my load, but I decided it I needed a visual reminder of why I never want to do this again.

We were quite the spectacle. In fact, as we neared the security line for our departure, the TSA agent informed us that Kenta could have gotten a gate pass to get help us through security to our gate. We didn't have enough time to go back and get one, but I made a mental note to DEFINITELY take advantage of this on the return flight.

Getting ourselves on the plane was a little tricky, but lucky for us, there was a sweet flight attendant that was more than happy to strap Thomas's car seat in for me, almost amputating her hand in the process. We had a very nice lady sitting on the other side of Thomas, who endured 2+ hours of Thomas driving toy bulldozers across her notebooks and "accidentally" dropping pretzels in her lap. I actually have a picture of this nice lady which, coincidentally, happens to be the ONLY picture I took of all of our air travel.

Thank you, nice lady.

I was super nervous about making our connection in Atlanta, but a small miracle happened when I discovered that our connecting flight was 7 gates away from where we landed. I might have pumped my fists in gratitude towards the heavens and softly yelled "Victory!" after I discovered this news on the terminal monitor. I'm pretty sure a few people heard.

The second flight was quick. There wasn't a nice stewardess to install the car seat, but there was a really nice steward (????) who, when I asked him if he was okay holding a baby, responded, "uhhhhh, I can't remember the last time I held a baby". I promptly handed him Abigail, so I could get the car seat and Thomas situated. It was the happiest she had been the entire day. I let him know that.

The trip home wasn't quite so smooth. I was cutting it extremely close getting to the airport in enough time to get through security. The kids and I had been partying a lot and sleeping little for two weeks, so we were T.I.R.E.D. I was banking on getting my sister-in-law a gate pass to help us through, but no dice. The ticket agent said that because of security, I didn't qualify for help "just because I had a baby" (never mind the OTHER kid, stroller, car seat, and two carry-ons). I made my way grumbling to security. I was running late and trying to get through quickly, when we were stopped because of a "suspicious" item in our carry-ons. Actually, two suspicious items: water. I had forgotten to empty Thomas's sippy cup and my bottled water. I just threw my water away, but I had to unscrew Thomas's cup so they could examine the contents (for what? I have no idea). Once we were deemed to not be a threat to national security, I then gathered all of our belongings and tried to find a place where I could put my shoes back on. My hands were shaking because I was running so late, so I could barely buckle, snap, or tie all the things that I needed to. I was a mess. I might I have mumbled "airport security can die in a hole" as I scrambled to our gate.

Thankfully, all flights to Detroit were running a little behind, due to weather. I was grateful for a little breather. When it was time to board, though, I realized it was one of those little planes that you have to walk out on the tarmac to board. Bless all those beautiful strangers who scooped up my stroller and carry-ons so I could focus on getting my children safely on to the plane. Really, they were the best.

And it didn't stop there. The passengers on our last flight were just as amazing. After Thomas entertained everyone at the gate with his break-dancing skills (I'm sure some people were staring at me in horror for letting my child roll around on the floor - whatever), it was time to board our last plane. The flight went fairly well, for the most part. The lady across the row from me held Abby while I tried to snuff out a major tantrum that was brewing. Thank goodness for the magical bribery powers of mini M&Ms.

Before we knew it, we were home. If I hadn't had so much strapped to me, I would have knelt on the ground and kissed it. And I have never been happier to see Kenta. Okay. Maybe the day we got married I was happier. But this was a close second.

I might travel by myself with the kids again, now that I know what to expect. I'm going to need a little while to recover from it. And never again will I judge the noise level of a child on an airplane. And never again will I see a mother traveling alone with children and not offer to help in some way (assuming that I am also not traveling alone with kids.....).

So, all in all, traveling wasn't too terrible. I survived. Thomas earned his wings

And when one of your little travelers is this happy:

Why not give it another shot some day?

I do not understand boys - #2

2011-04-10T14:30:00.002-05:00

Boys and girls are different. I'm reminded of this fact every day. I'm coming up on nearly five years of very close observation of the male species (and, no - the previous 20+ years of having a younger brother doesn't count because he came after four sisters and we pretty much girlified the manliness out of him from an early age). Anyway, I digress. I'm always amused by the things that Kenta does that make me scratch my head and think, "Wha.....???". Boys are peculiar creatures sometimes.

For example, Kenta is unable to perform multiple tasks at once. Do not ask him a question while he is driving. He will either wreck the car or completely ignore the fact that you are talking to him. I, on the other hand, am pretty amazing at multi-tasking. I can nurse a baby while dragging a toddler to timeout WHILE I am on the phone. Am I awesome, or am I awesome?

Anyway, a while back we were busy writing thank-you notes for friends who had helped us out after Abigail was born. Kenta and I divided the list up and got to work. I was chatting away as I wrote my notes. After a little while, I noticed that the conversation was very one-sided. I kept talking anyway, until Kenta said:

"Ahhh! Stop talking to me!"

Me - "Why?"

Kenta - "I keep messing up"

Me - "Huh....?"

Kenta - "Yeah. I've already misspelled two words"

Me - "What have you written so far?"

Kenta - " 'Daveys, Thank you' "

Me - "You wrote three words-"

Kenta - "Yes."

Me - "-and you misspelled TWO of them?"

Kenta - "Yes."

Kendall - "....."

Kenta - "...."

Kendall - "BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!"

....and I pretty much haven't stopped laughing since. I die laughing every time I think about it. And then it reminds me how I always wanted to marry someone who could make me laugh every day. Mission accomplished.

Life would be so boring if we were all girls.

Three months!

2011-04-06T13:25:00.004-05:00

That's right. Our baby girl hit the big 0.25 this week. She is getting so big and her little personality is coming out. She loves to observe the world around her. Her little tongue is always sticking out and tasting things: her fist, my shirt, a blankie - if it's close to her mouth, she'll lick it. I forgot how much drool little babies produce.

She is so cute, I almost can't stand it.

Trick question

2011-03-27T15:45:00.008-05:00

Q:When a two year old asks you for spinach - what do you do?

A:High-five yourself for raising such an awesome kid and give it to him (of course).

Thomas Likes Spinach! from Kenta Hood on Vimeo.

Oh, well. I knew that when he asked for it, it was a little too good to be true.

But he actually did ingest some. I swear.

When he is good, he is very, very good, but when he is bad....

2011-03-20T19:54:00.004-05:00

I love my boy. He is a cutie pie and super-sweet. But some days - oh, my. Watch out. Now that he is officially two, tantrums have been kicked up a notch. Or ten. Take last Friday for example. Thomas wanted to help me make some bread. Basically he just wanted to lick flour off the counter. He was making a huge mess, but I didn't mind because he was HAPPY!!! When I tried to get a picture of the glorious, floury mess, things started out okay:

Until I asked him to "say cheese!". After that simple request, this was all I got:

*No children were harmed in the documentation of this tantrum

*Sigh*. I wish I could understand what was going on inside his brain a little better. Then maybe our days would be filled with far fewer frustrating moments like this.

Maybe I'm a bad mom for taking pictures of my tantruming child, but honestly - being a few days removed from this event - I can laugh now at just how utterly absurd most of his tantrums are. And maybe some day Thomas can laugh at himself, too.

And I promise next time I write something about Thomas, it will be filled with pictures of a cheerful, compliant child (nevermind that that child will probably be Abby.....)

Today I am grateful....

2011-03-14T15:06:00.004-05:00

...that at least one of my children has decided to take a nap.

Please don't ask what the other child decided to do instead. I don't think there is enough room on the internetz to recount all the mischief.

Semi-happy Birthday

2011-03-13T13:07:00.011-05:00

A few weeks ago, Thomas celebrated his 2nd birthday. I was really hoping that he would be having one of his "good days" (i.e. a day where he has been sent to timeout less than 10 times),but unfortunately, most of the day ended up being pretty bad. An appropriate way to usher in the "terrible twos", I suppose.

I started a family tradition of taking pictures of the birthday boy/girl first thing in the morning when I see them. Thomas is not a morning person, as was evident in his "good morning" birthday picture on his first birthday

As it turned out, the passage of an entire year did nothing to improve his morning disposition. But I still tried to get some pictures of the birthday boy in all of his "I-just-woke-up-get-that-camera-out-of-my-face" glory.

Did I mention that I can't take one-handed pictures? They are always blurry.

I thought maybe after I got Thomas dressed, he would be feeling a bit more chipper.

Nope. Aaaaand....

..definitely nope. (These were actually two-handed pictures. Credit Thomas's supersonic limb flailing for the blurriness).

The day wasn't entirely bad. There was a happy moment when he ate strawberries and ham (pronounced "HAIM") for breakfast.

Not something we usually eat for breakfast, but it was his birthday, so hey - anything goes.

My memory is a little fuzzy, but I think after breakfast there were a few timeouts and some tantrums. I was really hoping that lunch and a nice long nap would snap him out of it:

Negativo.

Thomas isn't the only one who should be blamed for having a crummy day. Let's not forget how I baked the birthday cake and thought, "Hmmmm, we've had this mix for awhile and saw this:

As my niece pointed out, Thomas's birthday cake was actually older than him. Niiiiiiice. So I debated as to whether or not I should throw the cake away and get a new, unexpired one or just take my chances with the possibly harmful one. But I really didn't want to drag the kids outside to go to the store (I LOATHE going to the grocery store for ONE thing, plus it was pouring down rain all day), so I consulted the internetz, which then had me worried that my family would die from eating the cake because of possible mold spores. So I called my mom, who assured me that she fed us expired stuff all the time and none of us died (that I'm aware of...). So I decided to just feed us the expired cake. I slapped some white buttercream frosting on it and it didn't look a day over 3 months from its expiration date. And we are all still alive. Win.

Anyway...back to the actual birthday day. Kenta came home and things immediately got better. Thomas helped make "happy birthday pizza" and all was right with the world again.

Then it was time for cake and a skype date with Grandma and Grandpa:

Thomas received a much-anticipated birthday gift of TRAINS!!!!!! We didn't take any pictures (just a really long video) of the train opening, but believe me - he was stoked.

So now that Thomas has trains to play with, his life is complete and he has nothing more to complain about and we are living happily ever after. The End.

Hahahahaha!!!! Just kidding. Learning how to mother a toddler is quite an adventure. We have good days and bad days, but even on the worst of days, there is always a good moment or two with Li'l T.

Happy Birthday, little dude - we sure do love you!!

Blessed

2011-03-10T12:28:00.009-06:00

Ahhh...I'm sitting here listening to my Ray Lamontagne Pandora station while the kids are both upstairs napping. It's been a nice peaceful time for me to reflect on how truly blessed I am. It's also a time to reflect on Abigail's baby blessing and how that happened over a month ago and I still have not posted anything about it (or any pictures).

She was blessed on a cold Sunday at the end of January. We were nervous about our parents getting into town that week because there were snowstorms like every other day in the month of January. Thankfully, everyone made it into town for the big day:

We were lucky enough to have Jiichan and Baachan

AND Grandma and Grandpa there for the special occasion.

My mom came a week early to help out with the kids and make Abigail's dress. It was beautiful dress for a beautiful day!

I've been scrolling through all the photos and there are some doozies. I guess that's what happens when you try and get two little kids to smile for four cameras after sitting through an hour and a half of church. Here are the best outtakes:
Abigail's had enough of the paparazzi gettin' all up in her face
Don't get too distracted by my laughing face - check out Thomas's expression
Thankfully he was in good spirits...
...unlike his little sister.
He's always loving on her.

A lovely day, made even more memorable by a lovely blessing from Kenta to Abigail. It's pretty amazing to think about all the potential these little people have when they come join us here on earth. Abigail was blessed to accomplish many great things in her life. It was an important reminder to me of what a tremendous responsibility we have as parents to teach our children (as the Primary songs says) to "walk in the light". I sometimes feel like I'm not worthy of such a task, but then I realize that I need my children to teach me important things (patience, selflessness, unconditional love, etc.), just as they need me to teach them. And here I am getting all teared up about it. I blame the Pandora station (and the fact that I love my kids so much, it makes me a little verklempt to talk about how special they are to me).

Here's some up close pictures of Abby in her dress:

Oh, my. Those eyes! I'm so in love.

Two months!

2011-03-06T13:14:00.012-06:00

To celebrate Abigail's two months on earth (and to satisfy the demands for "more pictures!!"), I am FINALLY going to post some pictures from our, uh, recent photo shoot. Okay. Fine. The pictures were taken when she was a week old, so they really aren't all that recent. But they are cute. So here they are:

Thanks to Therese Plant for being our awesome photographer! We so appreciate you letting us come down for a bonus shoot, due to Abby's unwillingness to sleep long enough for us to get sleepy shots the first time around! They turned out great and we are so happy to have this fleeting moment documented in an artistic and professional way.

Interesting and completely unrelated fact: Blogger apparently hates me. Or likes to watch me suffer. It seriously just took an hour to post these pictures, due to some glitch that wouldn't allow me to post more than two (occasionally three) pictures at once. The things I do for Abigail's adoring fans. Now I need some ice cream.

I do not understand boys

2011-02-23T13:41:00.004-06:00

Recently I've been given a new responsibility at church. I'm now partially "in charge" of the 14-15 yr. old girls, which means every Tuesday night I have youth activities and Kenta is in charge of bathing Thomas and putting him to bed (Abby stays with me, for now). Thomas is super easy at bedtime, but lately he's been staying up, talking to himself about cars, airplanes, and trains for quite a long time. Anyway, when I got back from church last night, I asked Kenta how the night went. The following conversation ensued:

Me: "How was Thomas?"

Kenta: "Oh, he was GREAT! I put him down and he didn't make a peep."

Me: "Really? He must have been tired."

Kenta: "Well, actually I had given him half a cookie earlier. He loved it. He carried it around forever and only ate about 1/4 of it before I had to put him to bed with it."

Me: "You put him to bed..."

Kenta: "hmmm....?"

Me: "With a cookie?"

Kenta: "Yes."

Me: "....."

Kenta: "....."

Me: "Well, that explains why he didn't 'make a peep'. "

Kenta: "I just figured it was easier to let him keep the cookie, than try and take it away from him. He would have thrown a fit."

Me: "Hmmm...I guess that also explains why Thomas likes you more than me."

I've since decided that Thomas won't die from going to bed with a cookie one time (I've been assured that this won't happen again).

However, the first thing Thomas said to me when I got him out of bed this morning was, "Big cookie?". To which I responded, "How about some oatmeal? Or scrambled eggs?". It's all fun and games when Daddy's in charge. Not so much when Mommy is.

(Lest you think I am ripping on Kenta's parenting skills, here's some proof that he really is a good dad):

Ohhh...boys. I do not understand you.

(not so) Great Expectations

2011-01-20T20:19:00.004-06:00

Today was my first day at home, alone with the kids. Here was my "To Do" list for the day:

1) Take a shower

Aaaaaand....that was my list. I figured if I got even that much done, the day would be a success. Anything that I achieved beyond that would just be considered a bonus, pat-myself-on the-back-and-give-myself-a-cookie achievement.

My philosophy to set very low expectations proved to work in my favor (at least for today). Today was a wildly successful day. I got my shower. I did laundry. I washed a pile of dishes that had been accumulating in the sink for three days. I even wrote a blog post. I attribute the success of this day to the above-average cumulative amount of sleep I got last night.

Don't worry. I'm not going to go crazy and set my expectations too high. With a newborn, you just never know in advance what amount of sleep you will be required to operate on the following day. My "To Do" list remains the same for tomorrow:

1) Take a shower

(okay, maybe I'll aim a *little* higher and shave my legs? naaaaahhh...)

Here's to the children that come into our lives and completely turn them upside down and inside out (at least for the first few weeks).

They are totally worth it.

In other news, Abigail is two weeks old today. Can you believe it? Me, neither. In some ways it doesn't seem like it's been that long, but in other ways I can't seem to remember what life was like without her. We sure are happy to have her here with us.

Abigail Hiromi: our water baby

2011-01-11T14:20:00.001-06:00

For those of you who are uncomfortable with childbirth narratives, you can just skip this post and enjoy the pictures in the next one. For those of you who love a good labor tale, buckle up - 'cause I like to tell a good story. Warning: it's absurdly long and detailed, but I wanted to write everything down while it was fresh in my mind. You know - so that thirteen years from now when Abigail gives me grief, I can remind her about the day she came into the world.

I guess the birth story really starts about three weeks ago (the Tuesday - Thursday before Christmas) when I had fairly intense contractions over the space of three days. It was uncomfortable enough that I couldn't sleep, but they never increased in length and intensity or got closer together. I was extremely frustrated when, after three days of no sleep and no progress, everything seemed to stop. I was 39 weeks pregnant at this point and expected to have my baby any day. Ha! I still had a long wait ahead of me....

Fast forward to Wednesday, Jan 5th...six friends of mine (including my sister) who were all due after me, have all had their babies. I had convinced myself that labor would NEVER happen spontaneously and that I was going to hit the dreaded 42 week mark with no baby and a slim chance of a VBAC attempt. I decided to throw myself a pity party, which Kenta refused to attend with me (smart guy). Three hours after I cried myself to sleep, I woke up with my first REAL contraction (1 am on Thursday, Jan 6th). I pretty much couldn't believe that I was actually in labor.

I spent the next three hours timing contractions. I called my midwife to let her know that things were happening and she told me to just hang tight at home and that I still had a long way to go. I knew I would be seeing her in a few hours anyway, as I actually had my weekly appointment scheduled for that day at noon. I secretly hoped that when I went to my appointment, that labor would have progressed enough that I could just stay at the birth center. We weren't really sure how long labor would last, so we decided to go ahead pack up the boy and send him off to play with his buddies for the day - and possibly - overnight. Here's his last picture as an "only" :

Our last photo as a family of three:

Around 10:00 am, I noticed that the contractions seem to drop off in intensity when I would lie down, so I forced myself to move around to keep things going. Silly me. At my appointment, my midwife explained to me that during the day, our body's natural circadian rhythm slows down, so contractions will often time lull and then pick back up around late afternoon or evening. I wanted to kick myself for not having rested, so I vowed to try and go home and rest before things picked back up. At this point, I was thinking I would probably have the baby in the wee hours of the morning.

I tried to nap between contractions from about 1:30-3:00. Yeah, right. Have you ever peacefully slumbered when every five minutes you had 45 seconds of searing back pain? Needless to say, it was not very restful. Between 3:00 - 4:00, it became unbearable to lie down. I took a bath, hung out on the birthing ball, walked around - basically I tried everything I could to get comfortable. The pain in my lower back was super intense. Kenta tried to rub it during contractions, but that was no longer helping. The only relief I could get was the warm water in the bathtub. Unfortunately, the tub was too narrow and too shallow to give me the relief I needed and the side of the tub was cooooold when I leaned up against it. I needed something warm on my back. I dreamt of a heating pad that existed in someone else's house (not my own) and vowed to purchase one as soon as possible for future labor usage.

About this time the contractions got strong enough that I had to yell. Loudly. We live in an apartment building, and I didn't want to scare my neighbors, so I tried to hold it in as best as I could. Kenta was awesome. Every contraction, I wrapped my arms around his neck and yelled into his shoulder. He wasn't quite sure what he needed to do to help me, but just standing there, letting me hang on him was THE BEST thing he could have done for me. Kenta gets an A+ for his birth partner skillz. Plus, he told me that my breath smelled bad, and I should probably brush my teeth before we headed to the birth center. I was grateful for his honesty.

By this time, the contractions had intensified and gotten closer together, but hadn't consistently been hitting the 1 minute mark. We called the midwife a little after 5:00 pm and I begged her to let me come sit in the birthing tub and scream to my heart's content, even though I wasn't *quite* "4-1-1" (contractions four minutes apart, lasting for a minute for at least one hour). She happily consented. At this point, I cursed myself for living so far away from the birth center (only a 1/2 hr, but it seems like an eternity when you are in the throes of labor). I made another promise to myself - next time we are staying at HOME and the midwives are coming to US. Plus it was cold outside and I had to get dressed. Modesty was pretty much the last thing from my mind, but I didn't want to get arrested for public indecency. I broke every rule of fashion as I yanked on the closest clothing items near me. Of course I needed a photograph to document the ridiculosity:

Capris with socks AND crocs? And don't forget the hand-me-down Norman High School swim team hoodie, circa 1993. Yikes. Kenta laughed at me. I told him to shut up (don't mess with a laboring woman - 'nuff said).

The drive to the birth center was every bit as dreadful as I expected. We hit every red light and my contractions peaked as soon as Kenta accelerated and joltingly shifted gears. I didn't care if other people at the red lights could hear me yell - I did it anyway because it felt good and seemed to help. We arrived at the birth center a little after 6:00 pm. I heard another woman laboring in the other birth room across the hall from where our room was. It's pretty rare to have two people in the center at once and our arrival was the third of the day. Three babies in 12 hours - a new record! I was happy to be a part of such an eventful day.

As soon as we got in the room, I happily hopped in the tub. Kenta pulled up a chair (actually, it was a birthing ball, I think) next to it, and we continued the pattern of "grab, wrap, scream" (grabbing his shirt, wrapping my arms around him and screaming - you won't find it in the Bradley book, but hey - it worked for me). This lasted for about an hour. Then I had a contraction that was like NOTHING else I had felt. I lost all control of my limbs and nearly pulled Kenta into the tub with me. I created a massive tidal wave that soaked him and knocked my Gatorade on the ground. It felt like something had broken inside of me and I let out a sound that I did not know I could make. It got the midwife's attention because she scampered in from the other room (where the other mom was about to deliver) and asked me, "are you pushing?". Uhhhh. What the heck does pushing feel like? I looked at her and said "I have no idea. How the heck will I know if I am?" Ha! I soon found out what pushing is all about.

We determined during the next contraction that I was, in fact, ready to push. It was about 7:00 pm. I had no idea how to work with my body during the contractions and all I could think of is all those crazy testimonials that I had read in birthing books about how "pushing is fun!" and "it was the easiest part!" and "my baby came out in one push!". I wanted to kill those women, but I did not know them, and besides, I still needed to figure out how to get the baby out the rest of the way. I heard the baby being born across the hall and I was so happy for the new parents. I did feel very badly for their little baby that had to listen to me scream for the next hour (what a traumatic way to begin life) but the sounds erupting from my throat were pretty much beyond my control at that point. In between contractions, I was completely rational being, but once I felt a contraction coming on, it was like I was transformed into some wild animal. My friend, Suzanne describes childbirth as "primal". I could not agree more.

Anyway, back to pushing. The midwife and her assistant were both super helpful. They helped me figure out which muscles I need to be concentrating on and helped encourage me. Kenta was rock-solid, as always, telling me how great I was doing and forcing me to take sips of water. The only time I got mad at him was when he was patting my arms and I snapped, "Rub! Don't pat!!"

At this point, I broke my first "I'll never...." promise: I used the mirror. I was so not into the mirror thing before I went into labor. But man, that little mirror was quite useful. Yes, it was depressing to see the head emerge, then disappear, but it was encouraging all the same to know the baby was SO CLOSE. The assistant then gave me a little bit of coaching that helped speed things along even more. She suggested that instead of throwing my head back and yelling out during contractions, that I instead tuck my chin to my chest and keep the energy in. Holy cow. I wish that had been explained to me an hour earlier. After that nifty trick, I felt like I was really making progress. All of a sudden, the head came out and the baby was out, and then it was all over!

I held the baby in my arms and repeated, "Wow. It's over. I can't believe it's over!". Then I remembered that we still didn't know if it's a boy or a girl, so I lifted up the baby and Kenta declared "it's a boy!" and I said, "You dope. That's the umbilical cord. It's a girl" (totally kidding - I didn't call him a dope, but I did make fun of him). And she was so quiet. She just blinked her eyes and looked around. Abigail Hiromi was born Jan. 6, 2011 at 8:24 pm, weighing a respectable 9 lbs and measuring 22 " long. I guess she needed to cook an extra week to out-size big brother (he was 9 lbs, 21.7"). I feel like I can really "own" the fact that I've had a 9 lb. baby now. She is so chubby and awesome.

Oh. And the other "I'll never...." promises? I touched the placenta. Gross, right? It was actually pretty cool to see what had been sustaining little Abigail for the past nine months of life. Kenta broke an "I'll never..." promise, too: he cut the umbilical cord. Props to him for stepping WAY out of his comfort zone and supporting me in the ultimate of childbirth experiences. What an awesome guy I married.

Kenta asked me at one point between contractions near the end of labor if childbirth was harder than running a marathon. I answered that question with a resounding "YES!!!!!" It is WAY more intense, but far more rewarding all the same. In a marathon, you can stop and walk at any moment, or say to yourself, "This activity no longer seems awesome to me" and drop out altogether. Not childbirth. You are committed, whether you like it or not. That baby has to get out. You can't just up and quit. I'm sure there are marathon moms out there who disagree with me, but I'll take a cute baby in my arms and the recovery of childbirth ANY DAY over the bragging rights of finishing a marathon and the recovery from pounding 26.2 miles of pavement.

And did I mention how great it was to be able to have the natural birth that I longed for with Thomas? Having now experienced the two extremes of childbirth, I can say it was a beautiful thing being able to back up our bags and head home five hours after Abigail was born. I don't even think I could speak in coherent sentences five minutes after Thomas was born. Let's do a little comparison:

Holding Thomas for the first time, 30 minutes after he was born:

Holding Abigail for the first time, 30 seconds after she was born:

In which photo does it look like I've been run over by a semi? Hint: it's the one where I look stoned out of my mind. (and yes, all you observant ones - that is the same red sports bra. I will probably be retiring that soon. It's served its purpose. Twice.)

About an hour after Abigail was born, we called our friends to see how Thomas was doing. Turns out he gorged himself on applesauce and cheerios for dinner and spent THREE HOURS talking to himself in the crib when they put him down (he didn't fall asleep until 11:30!). I guess he was super excited about his little sister.

Heading home with our baby girl, about five hours after she was born (about 7.5 hours after we first arrived):

We picked Thomas up the next morning and brought him home to meet baby sister. He was so cute with her. He pointed out all her face parts ("eyes!", "mouth!", "nose!") and wanted to hug and kiss her. He frequently asks to "hold it?" and hold out his arms for us to put her in. We couldn't be more pleased with how he has transitioned to big brotherhood.

It's nice to know that Abigail has big brother's stamp of approval:

Seriously. We couldn't get him to pose that way again if we tried. I'm pretty sure even a bribe of applesauce and cheerios couldn't do it.

A tremendous thanks to all the midwives/assistants/staff at the Birth Cottage (I forgot to take a picture of our birth team! That will come shortly). They gave us the support, encouragement, and peace of mind that we needed to have such a beautiful birth experience. Seriously, I'm tearing up writing this. They helped create such a beautiful, safe, and loving environment for our little Abigail to be born in. When I think back to when our journey towards a VBAC began (almost two years ago when Thomas's breech status was obviously not going to change and a c-section was imminent), I am so grateful that our paths crossed with these outstanding women. I knew I would need extra encouragement because of the perceived risk factor of a VBAC, and they provided above and beyond what we needed in terms of information and support. Thanks to all of them from our little family!!

She's here!

2011-01-09T19:31:00.004-06:00

At long last, our little Abigail arrived last Thursday.

Here are some favorites from Baby Abby's first day of life:

Thomas was so excited to meet his little baby sister:

We are so in love with our baby girl:

Waiting....and the Boat Cup

2011-01-09T13:23:00.007-06:00

Let's just pretend, for the sake of my lazy blogging, that I haven't had a baby yet. Close your eyes...imagine that I'm still 41 wks. pregnant with no end in sight...okay. Now you may read this post:

Although reaching 41 wks gestation is a feat that fewer and fewer women these days can claim (what, with all the handy dandy inductions), I found myself incubating a week longer than I had planned. I wish I could say it was the best week ever and I didn't complain or feel sorry for myself, but that would be a lie. I did feel sorry for myself. My mom was in town until the 27th, but a snow storm kept her here a few days longer. I thought that she would end up being here to help when the baby came, but not so. Baby Hood had other plans and I wasn't quite sure that I liked them all that much.

It wasn't until a few days past my due date that I realized, "Hey. This is really cool. Kenta gets time off of work for the holidays and it's just us here at home with Thomas. We'll never get a chance to have this time with just him again". So, I had a change of heart and decided to embrace each "extra" day we had with our little dude. The weather even warmed up, so we got to do something that we have been planning since last spring:

BOAT CUP!!

A little back story: in a game of Trivial Pursuit, my brother-in-law, Brady, got a question wrong about what the name of the most famous regatta was in the US (or something along those lines). It was a multiple choice question and he couldn't decide between "America's Cup" and the "Boat Cup". Of course, he chose "Boat Cup", for which we laughed him to scorn and have never let him live it down. (side note: if you know Brady, next time you see him, ask him about Theodore Geisel.)

Anyway, last spring we planned a Boat Cup of our very own, to honor the memory of many a fantastic Trivial Pursuit match between team Kendall/Rika and team Kenta/Brady. We never got around to it back then, but a big snow, followed by a few sunny days, provided just the right conditions for a winter Boat Cup.

Kenta found the youtube video and folded the boats while Thomas supplied the paper

Thomas loved looking at his little boat.

Next, we went out to the little stream in our apartment complex to launch the boats. We scoped out a good location - a location that we BOTH agreed would be best, as the boats would not have to pass through a ton of rocks and potentially get stuck and waterlogged. Kenta decided after I started recording to go to a location further back from the agreed upon starting point. I'll let you listen to my "I told you so" voice and watch the Boat Cup in all of its glory:

View on ExposureRoom

I am such a bossy wife, aren't I?

Had ourselves a merry little Christmas

2011-01-03T19:35:00.006-06:00

Christmas was a pretty low-key celebration for us this year. With the impending arrival of Baby #2 (who still isn't here yet), we decided it would be best to keep things simple.

Traditionally, people hang stockings by the chimney with care and put presents under a tree. Not us. We just pile everything up around a secondhand toybox. How's that for holiday cheer?

Keeping with my family's Christmas morning tradition, we weren't allowed to open any gifts until after we consumed.....

CREAMED EGGS ON TOAST!!!

What is that nasty sounding concoction, you may ask? It's just a basic white sauce with hard boiled eggs in it, served over toast. File it under the category of "don't knock it 'til you try it". It tastes a lot better than it looks/sounds.

Oh, look. My mom showed up for breakfast. Actually, she had been here for a week at that point. My dad left a few days before Christmas for a business trip in Saudi Arabia. Since my mom was orphaned, we invited her to stay with us.

Thomas approved of the creamed eggs.

After breakfast, it was present time. Some of the greatest hits from 2010 were:

A pirate ship from Jiichan and Baachan. This amazing toy has the ability to play every annoying tune you could possibly think of. Naturally, Thomas loves it. Surprisingly, it doesn't grate on my nerves like I thought it would. Probably because I love to watch him dance to the music.

Books! Thomas loves books:

Grandma and Grandpa gave him his very own copies of "Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel" and "Where the Wild Things Are" - must haves for all little boys.

The baby didn't show up to open his/her gift, so I did the honors:

Thanks for the OU gear, Uncle Kenji!

And Kenta got me some cankle cover-ups:

Christmas threw up on my feet. I love it.

I got Kenta some awesome Lego salt and pepper shakers. I can't seem to find a picture of them....but I did buy him an awesome argyle sweater that he wore to church the very next day:

Thomas wouldn't let go of his new cars during the post-church photo shoot:

Thanks for coming, Grandma! Sorry the baby didn't want to come out and play while you were here!

One more Thomas picture. Just because he's cute. That's all.

Twelve Step Program

2010-11-24T20:05:00.009-06:00

Do you ever wonder if you are capable of great things? Have you ever wanted those around you to stop and take notice of your extraordinary abilities? What if I told you that I hold the secret to single-handedly evacuating your entire apartment building? What? You say that's impossible? That it can't be done? That no one can accomplish such a tremendous feat? Well, I'm here to tell you that it CAN be done. Here are twelve easy steps to achieving your maximum potential of greatness and getting the whole world (or at least your entire apartment building) to recognize how unbelievably capable you are:

1) Saute some veggies in a frying pan. When sauteed to your liking, dump veggies onto a plate.

2) Leave the frying pan on the back burner with the spatula still in it.

3) Decide that you MUST have some potstickers to eat with your veggies

4) Place a pot of water on front burner to boil the frozen potstickers

5) Quickly choose a burner and turn it on high (it will help the water boil faster, right?)

6) Get distracted: check your email, change a diaper (diaper must be wet and or/dirty enough to involve complete disrobing of the child) while you wait for the water to boil.

7) Notice a strange smell and quickly dismiss it (it's probably just something that is on the burner from the last time you boiled something over...right?)

8) Hear a strange noise and dismiss it (water sure makes funny noises when it boils sometimes....)

9) Notice that the smell has gotten more potent. Also, the air inside the apartment has gotten hazy.

10) Run to the oven and discover a plastic spatula sizzling in the frying pan on the back burner (you know, the burner that you turned on HIGH)

11) Run to open the patio door and the front door that leads to the outside hallway

12) Realize there is a smoke detector in the hallway and scramble to shut the door...three seconds before all the alarms in the building go off.

13)* Watch your neighbors stream out of the building and look inside your apartment (the patio door is open, remember?) as you are trying to dress your son who still is not wearing any clothes.

*bonus step

Boys and girls - it is just that easy!

On a slightly more serious note...my neighbors were pretty cool about the whole incident. They laughed and assured me that it was "So nice to have an excuse to be out in the sunshine!" (um...it was like 40 degrees outside and WINDY). The fire department had to come, even though I called the apartment office and explained what happened. They showed up with three trucks, and a troop of firefighters in full fire-fighting gear. Most of them paraded into our apartment, while one stayed behind to interview me. When asked if anyone was hurt in the incident, I responded, "No one was hurt - just my pride, that's all". After inspecting the damage (the frying pan and spatula), they declared the building to be "safe" and we were allowed to go back inside. Thomas and I waited outside the door while the firefighters finished airing out our apartment with their awesome fire-fighter grade fan. I thanked them profusely and apologized over and over again for causing such a scene. They assured me that it was "fine" and they were "just doing their job". I still felt so foolish.

On one hand, I feel like a complete idiot for disrupting a lot of people's lives this afternoon. On the other hand, it's good to know that I can count on our local fire department for a timely response in case there really IS a problem some day.

Oh. You want to see the damage, don't you? I thought you would never ask.

RIP Favorite Frying Pan. On a happier note, I finally have an excuse to replace that spatula....

Bottom's Up!

2010-11-21T10:17:00.001-06:00

Good news, everybody! Baby's head has found its way into my pelvis. We are so delighted that this little one was comfortable with the idea hanging out upside down for the final weeks of gestation. You might recall the drama I went through trying to get Thomas to turn. I really could have spared myself a lot of emotional turmoil if I had just been able to see what life would be like a few years down the road. Now that I've had 20+ months getting to know Thomas, I can say with certainty that there was no amount of bargaining, pleading, reasoning, or coaxing that would get him to change his mind. It didn't work in utero and it still doesn't work today. Thomas does things on his OWN terms (even if my way is easier and better). What can I say? I'm happy to have a kid with conviction. I won't have to worry about him following the crowd or getting pushed around.

Anyway, after THAT emotional roller coaster, it feels good to be (almost) completely sure that this little kid is a little more cooperative than Big Brother and will probably stay head down until the end. And the best part about all of this good news? We got to see the baby again.

Oh, hi. What's up, everybody? Just chillin' in here where it's warm and cozy. I'll come out and party with you guys really soon. Oh, and hey - can you feed my mom lots of pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving? Yeah. I really like that stuff. Okay, thanks. Bye.

We're really excited about meeting our new little friend. Especially Thomas:

So, Halloween happened like two weeks ago...

2010-11-14T19:59:00.007-06:00

....and I'm finally getting around to blogging about it.

I think I exhausted all my energies and creativity into making costumes, so it took me a few weeks to recover enough to document their epicness. But first things first:

PUMPKIN PATCH!!

You may recall last year's trip to the pumpkin patch. I decided to be a better mom this year and take my kid before only reject pumpkins were left. I had visions of cute pictures of Thomas and pumpkins dancing in my head. This is what I got instead:

Okay, okay. He didn't hate every minute of it. There were moments of happiness. Like when he cradled a gourd:

and threw the little pumpkins behind the big pumpkins:

And sat in the wagon, watching the tractor roll by:

And after all that, we didn't buy a single pumpkin. Apartment dwelling has left me less-than-inspired to decorate for holidays. Or decorate for anything, for that matter. Sad day. Luckily Thomas did not care.

Lest you think I am the Grinch that stole Halloween, I will show you just how much I put into Halloween costume preparations this year.

Remember how I live in an apartment? And I have no place to store extra things? Or space to decorate? HA! That didn't stop me from concocting the most AWESOME HALLOWEEN COSTUMES EVAH!! It took weeks of planning and a week of spray painting on my porch (by the cover of darkness, so my neighbors wouldn't report me), but I was able to transform Kenta and I into:

Mother Hood Barbie and her KENta doll. We won second place in the costume contest at the most legit Halloween party I have ever attended. Our prizes: dinner for two at Chili's and tickets to a movie of our choice. It was worth every penny I spent on that blonde wig (that will probably never be worn again), every minute of sleep I forfeited sewing my shirt and apron, and every brain cell I lost from inhaling hot pink spray paint fumes.

I had no energy left to even think about making a costume for Thomas. Lucky for me, he inherited a costume from cousin Abe, which was worn at the trunk or treat the following week:

I take absolutely no credit for the creation of the monkey costume. Props to my sister, Stephanie, and her mad sewing skillz.

I abandoned the Barbie box most of the night. Abandoned cardboard boxes are kid magnets. Every kid wanted a turn in the box. Thomas was no exception:

(he's peeking out of the armhole)

Kenta took Thomas out beg....uh, "trunk-or treating" for candy while I manned our candy station. He felt really guilty about making the rounds with Thomas, knowing full well where most of that candy would end up (our bellies). So after a few stops, he called it quits and came back to hang out with me.

Kenta basically foiled my Halloween plans with his honesty, but I did manage to ration our candies well enough while handing them out to have a stash of Skittles afterwards. (totally kidding - I over bought and ended up with an entire unopened bag of Skittles). Mmmmm...Skittles...

Hope your Halloween was as fun as ours!

A bicycle built for.....four?

2010-10-16T18:37:00.011-05:00

Back in August, Kenta's dad gave us a call to ask us if we would be willing to pick up a bike for him in Philadelphia if he won a bid on ebay. Assuming that Philadelphia was just a few hours away (isn't that how everything is on the East Coast?) we said. "Sure!!!".

Then we got on to Google maps and realized that it was a little further than a few hours away (more like 6+) and would require Kenta to leave work early and an overnight stay. Oops. But we were happy to take the little trip because we weren't just going to pick up any old bike - it was a TANDEM bike. Plus, it's Philadelphia. What's not to love about the opportunity to visit some awesome historical sites and eat a real Philly cheesteak sandwich?

The drive down was totally fun. We got to see New York City from afar for the first time (okay...small lie. I went to NYC when I was four but I don't remember it, so it doesn't count):

(somebody help me out...I have no idea what bridge this is)

I let out a happy shriek of excitement when we passed this bad boy on the interstate:

Riding the Fung Wah is one of the most recent additions to my bucket list.

As always, Thomas was the best little backseat driver a parent could ask for. He basically sat in the backseat and exclaimed "Cars!! Cars!!" the entire time he was awake. He was happiest when a semi was following us. On a completely unrelated note, I have no idea what he smeared in his hair, but it looks nasty.

Due to some incompetent Quizno's employees at a New Jersey turnpike rest stop, it took longer than the expected six(ish) hours to reach our destination.

Oh, and the fact that our back door decided to quit latching at said New Jersey turnpike rest stop didn't help speed things along either. Luckily Kenta found some random ropes to jerry-rig something to keep the back door shut so we wouldn't have to worry about the back of the van flying open as we sped down the interstate:

The hotel was super nice (thank you, priceline!) and Thomas loved the view:

There was even a Betsy Ross and Ben Franklin sighting in the hotel lobby:

Random.

Lucky for us, it was only a short walk to Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell.

Of you look closely, you might be able to tell that these shadowy figures our actually us. (Just your run-of-the-mill failed photo op, courtesy of a fellow tourist)

We actually got to take a tour of Independence Hall where the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution were drafted and signed. It was pretty cool to be standing in the very spot where, essentially, America was born.

Thomas, as usual, was overjoyed at the prospect of seeing old rooms full of old furniture:

he didn't pull too many shenanigans during the tour:

I came to Philadelphia hungry for something to feed my nerdy love of American history. The tours left me completely satisfied. Kenta's stomach, however, was still grumbling for something else....

PHILLY CHEESESTEAK!!!!

He had to scarf that puppy down so we could get back on the road again, pick up the bike, and head home.

The ride home was pretty uneventful, other than some major traffic in NYC. The back door didn't fly open, however, so we really had no complaints.

Once home, we were excited to try out the bikes. Life was busy, so it took a few weeks before we could find time to take it for a spin. We headed to the local bike trail and had ourselves a good time:

And to give you an idea of how long the tandem PLUS the bike trailer was:

Yay! We were happy to ride it at least once before the weather got cold. And that back seat will need replacing. Even with my "natural" padding, that thing was hard and uncomfortable. Ouch.

(And word to the wise: don't try riding a tandem bike when you are six months pregnant. Your sense of balance is already sketchy, at best, so your tandem experience will be quite stressful.)

Lego Maniac

2010-10-06T12:24:00.003-05:00

Kenta has a friend at church - a kindred spirit, if you will - who shares his love for all things electronic and gadgety. Last weekend, this friend introduced Kenta to the wonders of Lego mindstorms. He's pretty much been talking about legos non-stop ever since, trying to convince me of their undeniable usefulness. Last night was no exception:

Kenta - I just saw this awesome youtube video today.

me - Hmm....

Kenta - Yeah, this guy had programmed his lego robot to solve a Rubik's cube.

me - Hmm...how can a robot do that?

Kenta - He programmed it to recognize colors.

me - Hmm...really.

Kenta - Yeah! Think of all the things I could program the robots to do!

me - Like what?

Kenta - I don't know. What would you want a robot to do?

me - (glancing at the sink, overflowing with piles of dishes) Huh. I want a robot that will wash the dishes for me

Kenta - uh...Kendall...

me - Yeah?

Kenta - They've already invented something for that

me - ......?

Kenta - It's called a dishwasher.

Doh!

So much for my short-lived interest in lego robots. Kenta hasn't given up his efforts to convert me to lego robotism. He emailed me this video today:

I'm trying to decide where I would store something like that.

Train up a chid in the way he should go

2010-10-04T19:31:00.004-05:00

This past weekend was busy around these parts. The first weekend in October brought us General Conference and - much to the chagrin of LDS Longhorn and Sooner fans - the annual OU/Texas football game. Being the pious types that we are, we taped the game and watched it after we enjoyed the Saturday sessions of conference - and didn't even sneak peeks to see what the score was. That takes an amazing amount of willpower, my friends.

Thomas had spent the morning absorbing the messages at conference (yeah, right), so we thought it would be good to balance out the spiritual knowledge that he had recently gleaned with a little secular football knowledge. Here he is, showing off his mad verbal skills:

(A little background on the video - "banzai" is Japanese for "hurrah!". It's something that (I guess?) Japanese people say to their kids, so they'll lift their arms up. It helps when you're changing clothes. Anyway, Thomas recently learned how to say it and is now always asking me to take his shirt off. Which I don't do.)

View on ExposureRoom

So there you have it. Our kid is a genius. And he got to experience, for the first time in his young life, the sweet taste of victory over the evil Texas Longhorns.

Lest you think we only watched football with Thomas on Saturday, he did watch Conference with us and pointed out every Jesus he saw on the computer screen. But mostly he just drove his cars around the living room floor. Lucky for us, he loves naps and cars. They kept him pretty well occupied while we watched Conference, so we actually got more out of it than we thought we would (parents of small children everywhere know what I'm talking about). Does that mean I have a notebook full of profound Conference quotes and insight that I gained while listening to the messages? Uh...I wish.

Unfortunately, there are lots of doodles of hearts,flowers and my name spelled in about a million different fonts (block letters, cursive, all caps, all lower case - you get the point). There are even some words in my actual notes that are only halfway spelled with the word ending in a crooked line (written as I dozed off and my hand slid off the page). So, I'm not the most alert Conference watcher. I couldn't tell you a lot of what was said. But I can tell you what I remember most - the most GORGEOUS arrangement of "Dear to the Heart of the Shepherd". So beautiful.

Since I don't remember a lot of the specifics of Conference, I've decided to choose one talk a week to focus on and study in depth. I'll double up with the shorter talks some weeks, and by the next Conference in April, hopefully I will have been able to internalize a little bit more.

In short: 8 hours of church (10 for Kenta)+ 1 Sooner victory + 1 new, useful word learned by Thomas = an exciting weekend!

Li'l T v. the Tomato

2010-08-24T07:40:00.004-05:00

This is what happens when you leave a garden fresh tomato, unattended, within arms' reach of a breakfasting child:

You'd never guess that this same child is currently refusing to eat his scrambled eggs. Ahhhh....the joys of toddlerhood.

In case you haven't heard....

2010-08-17T08:44:00.005-05:00

...there's a baby in da 'hood. Mother Hood, that is. Baby should make his/her appearance sometime around the end of the year. That makes the pregnancy a little over halfway over. I only barfed twice (one time was fried-clam-induced, so I can't really blame the baby) and am feeling great! Cravings have included: fresh pineapple, pizza, and Walmart Fruity Smiles.

This pic is from the ultrasound last week. Thomas kept pointing at the baby's head on the screen and saying "ball! ball!" Ummmm....I hope that he learns the difference before baby comes home.

We're happy to "officially" be sharing the news with everyone! Sorry I was holding out on the announcement, but that's the way Angelina Jolie does it - and like I've always said: what's good enough for Angelina Jolie, is good enough for me :)

We went on vacation....like a million years ago

2010-08-12T17:49:00.010-05:00

I won't even mention my lack of up-to-date blog posts, (other than mentioning just now that there is a lack of up-to-date blog posts). With that said, I bring you Speed Blogging, in the form of random pictures from our vacation with captions that may or may not be entirely accurate due to the amount of time that has lapsed since said pictures were taken.

Thomas watching the Southwest employee grill burgers on the tarmac (it was the 4th of July)

This was the only happy moment of our flight out to Missouri. Thomas happily watched the grilling and the passing luggage cars for about ten minutes of our layover. The other three hours and twenty minutes, he was throwing himself in a screaming heap on the ground as I tried to prevent him from boarding other airplanes. Luckily, he wasn't too bad on the actual flight.

I have discovered that traveling with a toddler is like wearing people repellent: nobody wants to sit by you on the plane (Soutwest, so no assigned seats) and people will quickly scoop up their laptops and carry-ons and move to the furthest seats away from you at the gate, just to get away from you and your screaming child.

Once we made it to Missouri, there was a lot to keep him occupied and plenty of space to run around:

Thomas at the dock, watching the catfish eat

Playing with the dollhouse. This was probably after breaking up a fight between him and [insert cousin's name here] for the umpteenth time.

There was a lot of (potential) cousin bonding time. I say "potential" because Thomas probably hit/bit/shoved every single one of little cousins at least six times a day (each). Needless to say, they were all avoiding him like the plague after a few days.

Thomas and Molly

Don't let that smile fool you. He would have probably eaten Molly for breakfast if he had not been restrained in the high chair.

One of the babies jumped in the water, so they all wanted in. Luckily they had their own individual pools - Owen ended up pooping in his.

Overall, it was a good visit with the baby cousins (and their siblings). I can't believe how much they've grown in the past year:

July 2009

July 2010

Please note that they are all wearing tie-dye shirts. Please also note that Thomas is slyly twisting Owen's arm.

Thomas also got to hang out with his grandmas:

Grandma (my mom)

Great-Grandma (my mom's mom)

After a week in Missouri, we headed down to Oklahoma with Soren, Natalie, and Owen. I sat in the back seat between Thomas and Owen (someone had to keep those two separated).

It was a long drive and the kiddos were tired.

Owen stared at me for most of the four hour trek (we stopped for the night with Natalie's parents).

Thomas ate a cheese stick to keep his mind off of how tired he was:

While Owen willed himself to stay awake:

These kids worked really hard at not sleeping in the car. Obviously.

Thomas read his truck book:

Owen played with his car:

At 10:00 p.m. these boys were still going strong. So, of course, I entertained them with the flash:

I finally got a smile out of Owen:

When we got to Oklahoma, we spent the rest of our vacation with Kenta's family. It was SO STINKING HOT in Oklahoma. I don't know how I put up with that kind of weather for 25+ years. I had forgotten just how hot it was, until I realized that Thomas was only wearing a diaper in like half of the pictures:

Watching cars and dealing some serious crack

Playing in the sprinklers

The heat must have friend my brain in Oklahoma - apparently I forgot to take pictures. I don't have a single good one of him and his cousin, Dane. For shame.

Before we knew it, it was time to get back on the plane and go back home:

Saying good-bye to Ojiichan and Obaachan

Luckily Kenta was with me this time. The plane ride/layover went a lot more smoothly:

As nice as it was to visit family and friends, it was so nice to be back home again. Dorothy was right: there's no place like home.

Communication breakdown

2010-07-01T20:00:00.003-05:00

It's rough being a 16 month old.

You want stuff you can't reach. You try and tell your mom by pointing your finger and making frantic, indiscernible shrieks. She just looks at you and starts offering you everything BUT the one thing you are pointing at. So, of course, the next logical step is to to throw yourself on the ground, turn up the decibels a few notches, and launch a full-out tantrum. You know - so your mom understands the urgency of how much you really need THAT ONE THING.

After screaming and writhing on the floor for twenty minutes or so, your mom is pretty sure that you have actually forgotten what it is that initially made you upset. Now you are crying and carrying on because you are mad and it really feels good to let that frustration out. How does she know this? She may or may not have this problem herself.

You won't let her touch you. Every time you look at her, you start crying harder because she reminds you of what made you mad in the first place (whatever that was....). Yet, she continues to sit nearby, keeping an eye on you, making sure the path is clear of any potential hazards as you pitifully throw your body about the living room floor. She patiently waits for your sobs to subside and for you to crawl back to her for a hug, like you always end up doing. She would hug you right now, but chances are you would throw your head back and whack her on the chin. She knows this because you've done it before (MANY times). So she waits.

After awhile, you decide to choose a spot and settle there, still sobbing, but no longer screaming. The sobs subside, and your mom readies for the long-awaited embrace. But you don't come crawling back. So she approaches you instead. And this is what she finds:

so she gently picks you up and places you in your crib where you peacefully sleep for nearly three hours.

She is so happy that you were able to settle down. But she is also so sad because she never did figure out what you wanted. And she knows that, inevitably, it will happen again.

It's rough being the mom of a 16 month old.

May Madness

2010-06-06T18:11:00.014-05:00

This poor, sad, little, neglected blog. I kind of gave up on trying to do anything with it in May because it was such a busy, busy month. I really did have time to update it. The problem was I had so much going on, all of my creative juices (and motivation) were completely sucked dry. But June is here now, so I'm feeling a little rejuvinated. Plus, I found out my sister-in-law reads it (among other assorted relatives and friends) and I don't want to disappoint. So, thanks for the kick in the pants, Mika. I'm back from the dead and ready to blog.

What were we busy doing in May? Well.....

We went to Cape Cod!

We decided to beat the summer rush and go on a little road trip to the Cape in early May. It was lots of fun, but very windy. We visited some historical landmark about something:

We saw a lighthouse:

Kenta showed his bravery by standing next to a cliff

and stepping in freezing water:

We also drove by....

Hyannis! We didn't see any Kennedys, nor did we flip off Ted Kennedy's grave (per Kenta's dad's request). But we were close enough that we could have, if we wanted to.

What else did we do? I taught a class at church on how to bake whole wheat bread. I didn't take any pictures, but I just wanted you to know that so you could be impressed at my domesticity. Also, I arranged and performed a harp piece for Mother's Day at church. Again, no pictures. I'm just documenting proof of my awesomeness for posterity. Seriously, though - these were probably the two most exhausting/time consuming activities of the entire month.

While I was busy doing stuff, Kenta took a nap:

Okay, okay. In all fairness, Kenta tweaked his back (probably from helping some friends move) and had to come home from work early one day because it hurt so bad. It was just too good of a photo op to pass up. Thomas and I documented our mischief while he slept.

Me, accidentally forgetting that the camera was still zoomed in after taking Kenta's Sleeping Beauty photo:

The second attempt(after I zoomed back out):

My glasses, apparently, are in a perpetual state of sliding down my nose.

Thomas learned how to walk. Finally. I was starting to think he might be crawling to school on his first day of kindergarten. This video is really long, but the first couple of seconds should give you an idea of how awesome his walking skillz are now.

View on ExposureRoom

It's fun watching him rediscover the world on two feet.

Back to May...I made stuff with my sewing machine. A cute hairclip holder for a birthday party for one of Thomas's girlfriends:

I discovered the joys of elastic thread and made this dress...

..and a coordinating bowtie for Thomas. Please excuse my massive biceps. I'm pretty sure the camera adds like six feet to their circumference. Also, the hair. I have no excuse for that, other than Kenta didn't tell me to fix it before he took the picture. Stay tuned for more of my sewing (mis)adventures.

Other May happenings....Aunt Rika went to Morocco and brought back some awesome souvenirs. Here's Thomas modeling his:

Thanks, Aunt Rika!!

Thomas celebrated 15 months of life with a trip to the doctor for immunizations. They sent us home with some band aids and a handy printout with all his measurements and percentiles. We're happy to report that his head circumference is in the 4th percentile. While we're not sure if his small head is an indication of his brain size, we do know that "simple minds, simple pleasures" is a pretty accurate description of him:

View on ExposureRoom

So that was May. At least the highlights, anyway. Hope you enjoyed the summary!

Patriot's Day

2010-04-29T20:05:00.007-05:00

Kenta got an unexpected bonus when reviewing his holiday schedule at work when we first moved out to New England. All the usual national holidays were there, but we were elated to discover a BONUS state holiday in April - Patriot's Day! It's the same day as the Boston Marathon, so it only makes sense to make the day a holiday since there is a major influx of thousands of people coming into town to run all over the streets that commuters need to drive on. And it happens to also be the anniversary of the "shot heard 'round the world" (the first shot of the Revolutionary War). So it's a pretty unique holiday.

So how exactly do you celebrate Patriot's Day? Apparently reenactments are HUGE around here. When I heard that my first thought was "NERDS!!!!" and I envisioned in my mind that it was something akin to a Trekkie convention with people decked out in full Spock regalia. My curiosity was definitely piqued. I was dying to see 21st century men wearing three-cornered hats and powdered wigs.

The "official" reenactment of the Battle of Lexington and Concord takes place on Patriot's Day at like 5:30 am. We decided it would be a bad idea to try and go see that (even though Thomas is usually waking up around then). As luck would have it, there was a dress rehearsal the week before. We made it to the battle green just in time for the festivities.

Thomas had a quick snack before things got underway:

This colonist appears to be playing "duck, duck, goose", but he was actually in charge of crowd control:

Sportin' all his nerd gear - minus the powdered wig (and pointy Spock ears)

Two minutemen discuss battle strategy while the ~~angry mob~~ crowd looks on.

THE BRITISH ARE COMING!!!!

Kenta was brave enough to catch some footage of the battle:

View on ExposureRoom

I'm still not sure why so many colonist fell down. I only heard one gunshot. Maybe they were playing dead?

So that, in a nutshell, is Patriot's Day. Perhaps your state has a special holiday of its own as well: 89er Day (Oklahoma), Pioneer Day (Utah), Secession Day (South Carolina), Texas Independence Day (Texas) 4/20 Day (Boulder, CO). There are probably others, but I don't know what they are, so sorry if I left you out.

Anyway. Happy belated Patriot's Day from us to you!

Of mullets and men

2010-03-28T10:19:00.014-05:00

Warning: this post is not for the faint of heart. As a general rule, the fad that I will be discussing is by and large accepted as one of the most vomit-inducing hairstyles to have ever graced the heads of humankind.

Though they are disgusting beyond anything you will ever behold, it is worth noting that the mullet holds an important place in the evolution of male (and female - let's not forget the "femullet") hair styling. I mean, seriously, think of the most popular celebrities from the 80s/early 90s - there are a plethora of mulleted celebs in this era. Having some trouble remembering? Let me help you jog your memory a bit:

Billy Ray, sporting the "Kentucky Waterfall"

Uncle Jesse. I might have had a crush on him, despite that unsightly growth on the top of his head

Don't hassle the Hoff

Mrs. Brady - the token "femullet"

I have nothing to say about this one. Just enjoy it in all of its long, flowing, receding hairlinededness glory (totally made that word up)

Definitely had a crush on him. MacGyver totally rocked that mullet.

I have been perusing the internets in search of the most horrid celebrity mullet I could find and - congratulations! - Bono won. I hope this doesn't offend anyone. It was a little offensive to my eyes.

Okay. Have I made you sick yet? Word to the wise: never do a google image search for "mullets" - it will make you queasy. Now that I've properly established the significance of mullets in history, I think I can succinctly describe my hopes of them returning to mainstream hair fashion in one word:

NEVERMORE

With that said, imagine my horror when I gazed upon my darling son and discovered that, yes indeed, he was sporting the classic beginnings of "business in front":

"party in the back":

The horror! The shame! I had to do something about it. We whipped the scissors out and nipped that sprouting mullet in the bud.

Cutting a squirmy baby's hair was harder than I thought. We gave him his toothbrush to keep him occupied:

That worked for about thirty seconds. So we strapped him into his high chair:

which was good for an additional thirty seconds. After a little brainstorming, we came up with the winning combination:

Thomas, in the highchair, with the toothbrush, watching Muppet Bohemian Rhapsody. I began to de-mulletize the boy, while Kenta snapped some shots:

mullet remains:

At this point, I realized that I was replacing the mullet with some kind of uneven, terraced landscaped kind of hairdo. I gladly let Kenta take over and finish the job.

After watching Muppet Bohemian Rhapsody five or six times, we were finally done. And Thomas was pretty much done at that point, too. We did manage to snap one semi-decent shot of his new 'do:

After that, he pretty much refused to comply with our efforts to produce a satisfactory shot of the entire finished product.

Any guesses as to where Thomas went to celebrate his new haircut? Yeah, this little boy went straight to bed.

So, there you have it. I fought the urge of many a mother to hold onto that last scraggily bit of baby hair. If ignored for another few weeks, we could have had a full-blown mullet on our hands. Crisis averted!!

Maine Attraction

2010-03-22T19:42:00.002-05:00

This week we enjoyed unseasonably warm temperatures up here in New England. When Saturday rolled around, we decided it would be a good time to stay at home all day and clean....

AS IF!!

We packed the boy up and skipped town. Destination:

Maine!!!

We planned to hit the beach and check out a lighthouse. It sounds like a supercool and far away trip, but in actuality, it was only an hour away (however, it was, by our observations, still supercool).

First stop: Nubble Lighthouse

At first we couldn't find it. But we did find this (which I loved, for obvious reasons):

The lighthouse wasn't too far from this intersection. We couldn't wait to get out of the car and breathe in some of the salty sea air:

It was nice to stand on the rocks and watch the waves crash against them, but we wanted to get a little closer to the water.....

.....and that just wasn't going to happen here. A nice family told us about another beach about ten miles away in Ogunquit. Kenta didn't bring the right shoes, so I took Thomas out to sea by myself. The water was FRIGID, but it was fun being out near the ocean.

We also stuck Thomas in the sand for the first time. He wasn't quite sure what to think about it.

The only thing cuter than baby toes are baby toes covered in sand.

Being in Maine, the lobster mecca of the universe, you'd think we'd find some cool lobster shack to eat lunch in. Um...no. Not us. Kenta hates seafood (I love it), but I hate making decisions about places to eat, so we usually just go with what sounds good to Kenta and I find something that I will eat there. We ended up eating at some gas station quasi-restaurant ("Anthony's Food Store"). Super classy. Wasn't my first choice, but they gave me a turkey sandwich and gave Kenta a hot dog and a slice of cheese pizza to share with Thomas. Next time we go to Maine, I'll do a little more research on good places to eat so we don't end up at another "Food Store".

All in all, it was an awesome day. We hung out at the beach, came home with plenty of time left in the day to clean the house, have friends over to drive RC cars, go for a jog, write a talk for church, do a load of laundry, make a batch of cookies, and watch some NCAA basketball. Yes, a very productive day indeed.

I have lived for so long in a place that is completely isolated from all that is interesting and worth doing, that I feel very lucky to be up here where there are so many things to do and so many things to see. We have lots of trips planned for the future - stay tuned!

And now - for your viewing pleasure - I present to you TWO Thomas videos (which really have nothing to do with Maine, but are supercute, and therefore, worth posting):

Thomas Driving from Kenta Hood on Vimeo.

Disclaimer: Kenta didn't tell me how loud my voice would be on camera. You might need your earplugs for this one:

Daddy from Kenta Hood on Vimeo.

Birthday Boy: Chapter 2

2010-03-13T21:25:00.008-06:00

Did you think there was only going to be one chapter? Sillies!! Thomas had such a great birthday, we had to blog about it TWICE!! I'm sure the suspense is killing you.....

Here's how the day went:

Apparently Thomas was super-stoked about celebrating his first birthday, so he decided to wake up at 4:30 a.m. with a poopy diaper. Not cool. I let him go back to bed and he slept in until the GLORIOUS time of 7:15 a.m. (about 1.5 hours later than usual). I decided it was time for a little pay back, since I was so rudely awakened earlier that morning:

We couldn't start the festivities without Daddy, so we got him up, too:

After a tasty breakfast, we let Thomas open a few of his presents. Not really something I ever did growing up, but I needed part of his present to take to church with us, so we just let him dig in.

Turns out he's a pro at present unwrapping. The hardest part was keeping him focused on the task at hand (opening new toys) and not getting distracted (playing with old toys)

Getting distracted:

Attempt at refocusing:

Refocused:

What could it be????? It's a.......

hazardous piece of plastic!!!

and.....

...........

A soft, fuzzy Thomas blanket!! (Thanks Ojiichan and Obaachan)

At about this moment, we realized that we weren't taking any video, so here is the video that we took (warning: if you are not a grandparent of the birthday boy, you might find the following videos extremely boring):

View on ExposureRoom

And here's the second gift:

View on ExposureRoom

Notice that that is the same box. We decided to throw some books into it while he wasn't looking. We're cheap like that. Don't judge. Thomas didn't know the difference and was quite excited about his new church entertainment. Trucks and tractors keep little boys reverent. Who knew?

And he did look quite dashing in his birthday suit:

(Zip decided to make a cameo on the birthday blog post.)

After church, we came home and partook of some delicious birthday foods. We had yummy spaghetti and, of course, birthday cake. Actually, Kenta and I didn't eat the cake because it was some kind of "healthy" raisin, carrot, applesauce concoction. Imagine a birthday muffin of sorts, if you will. We just stuck a candle in it, so it looked pretty legit:

Seriously - you aren't fooling me, lady. That thing better not have bran in it.

Kenta and I snacked on some ice cream and homemade hot fudge. We want to hold off on introducing him to REAL junk food. That way, there's more for us. Besides, Thomas seemed perfectly content gnawing on his Texas-sized birthday muffin.

psssshhh....birthday muffin is so much better than ice cream.

Afterwards - more presents!! Unfortunately, the unveiling of said presents is documented in some painfully long videos, so I'll just summarize what he got: lots and lots of Thomas the Tank Engine gear! Shirts, sweatshirts, shorts...this kid will be decked out in train outfits all spring, summer, and fall. Thanks again, Ojiichan and Obaachan!

Well, that does it. It was a great birthday. Good times were had by all. What will the next year bring for our little man? Upright mobility? Coherent speech? Maxillary and mandibular canines? We'll keep you posted. Until then, one last shot of our little dude:

Love you, buddy!

Birthday Boy: Chapter 1

2010-02-28T19:15:00.016-06:00

I can't believe our little guy is a year old today. It just blows my mind how quickly time has passed and, in a way, it makes me a little sad.

Okay.

A lot sad.

Remember when he was just a young sapling:

and was so teeny tiny:

and would sleep anywhere:

and loved to be cuddled by his mommy

....(most of the time)?

We are so lucky to have a kid that's always so happy....

....well, except for the times that he's not...

Now he's a big boy. Or thinks he is, anyway.

He reads books

and plays ball

and drives cars

and brushes his new MOLARS

and styles his hair

and flirts with the ladies

Where has my baby gone?

I always wondered if I'd be one of those moms that would cry on the first day of kindergarten. I pretty much knew that I would be when Thomas was like two days old and I looked at Kenta tearfully and said, "He's growing up too fast!" If anyone ever finds that fountain of youth, I'm all over it. I'd fill my kids' sippy cups with it just to keep them small and adorable. Kenta and I have talked about Thomas and his cuteness and wondered - when does the cute stage end? When he starts getting snaggle teeth? When he gets an attitude? When he turns two? All I know is that, genetically, this kid is doomed to have to endure the awkwardest of awkward years. I guess you'll know when his cute stage is over because I'll quit posting pictures of him. KIDDING!!! I'm not that shallow. Until then, we can all enjoy his cuteness, as this blog has basically become a shrine to it.

What this world needs is a lot more pictures of happy babies like that.

Happy birthday, Thomas!

On the road again...

2010-02-18T12:56:00.033-06:00

Remember when I used to update this thing? Like on a regular basis? I'll be trying to do that again now that we are settled in.

If you hadn't heard yet....we've moved! Near the end of January, we packed up our apartment, said good-bye to our ghetto-fabulous neighborhood and hit the road. After some tearful good-byes with our Oklahoma friends and family, we set out on our journey of epic proportions. Our goals? See some family along the way, stay ahead of the bad weather, find a geocache in every state that we passed through (okay, not really my goal - obviously) and beat the moving truck to our new place. All goals were accomplished.....except for the geocache, thanks to a sleeping baby and a wife that would not allow her husband to stop in the state of Pennsylvania for fear that the baby would wake up (In my defense, we were only in Pennsylvania for like 30 minutes and Thomas had just fallen asleep and he ALWAYS wakes up when the car stops). But who wants to listen to me blabber about it? Adventures are so much more fun when they can be experienced second-hand through my mad photography skillz.

Our first stop: The Homestead. We actually have very little evidence that we were even in Missouri, except for a few pictures of Thomas discovering the basket o' balls:

Me finding a cute little boy in the clean laundry:

and Thomas getting brain freeze from frozen blueberries:

So, we didn't even get a shot with Grandma and Grandpa. Oops. We were on a tight schedule. Next stop:

IOWA!!!

To visit my big sister, Linley (who is actually two inches shorter than me and shrinking) and her family. We got to visit with some old friends and hang out with Linley and the fam for an evening. They fed us a tasty meal and put us up in their finished basement for a night (it was the best night's rest that Thomas had the entire trip!)and 6 yr. old Meredith was kind enough to force her barely loose front tooth out of her mouth while we were there so we could be a part of the tooth fairy excitement. The next morning we were up early so we could hit the road again. This time, I put my skillz to work and actually took a picture before we left:

Thomas had lots of fun with his cousins. We were sad to go, but there was still a lot of Iowa left to see on our journey eastward. Linley, however, did not let us go empty-handed. That's not her style. She sent us off with a traveling companion. Meet Zip, our 8" long ball of synthetic, furry fabulousness:

He is actually part of my nephew's elementary class project. All the kids are supposed to send their stuffed animals on a journey with someone they know. The animal is supposed to report back on their adventures, etc. The little critter even came equipped with his own passport. We were more than happy to take part in the fun. This kitty made quite the trek with us. He mostly just hung out on in the sun on the dashboard (typical cat), so you'll see him in a lot of pictures. Back to the journey. Where was I? Oh, yes. Iowa.

Friends, don't be fooled. There's more to Iowa than just corn and bad football.

There is a noodle factory:

The World's Largest Truckstop (with a Dairy Queen - bonus!!!!)

The National Animal Disease Center (which we unfortunately didn't get a picture of)

And endless fields of snow:

Before we knew it, we were crossing the Mississippi...

..into....

ILLINOIS!!

Okay. Story time. I guess more accurately, it would be "story within a story" time (since this entire post is a story). So, as soon as we enter Illinois we start seeing all these signs that say "CHICAGO!!!!" on them with arrows pointing the direction to Chicago and other signs that said "CHICAGO ONLY 4,930,384 MILES AWAY!!" (okay - maybe that's not entirely accurate). Anyway, Kenta kept saying "AHHH!! GET A PICTURE OF THAT SIGN THAT HAS CHICAGO ON IT!!!". And of course he was saying this as we were driving UNDERNEATH the sign. Needless to say, I was tired and frustrated and not feeling super Christlike, so I kept getting mad at him as I was struggling trying to stop what I was currently doing and grab our ancient camera in time for it to turn on, focus (which takes about 3 years) and - finally - take the picture. So at the pinnacle of my frustration with the forced documentation of how close we were to Chicago, Kenta says, "A CHICAGO SIGN!!!!!" and I took this picture...

...as my sandwhich was sliding out of my lap. Then I proceeded to say some not-nice things to Kenta (which I apologized for and still feel badly about). I realize that if I had driven the 2,000 miles, that would have left his hands free to take as many pictures of roadsigns as he wanted to, but since he was making the greater sacrifice by doing all of the driving, I was kind of being a jerk. So this picture reminds me that I was a jerk. I did, however, manage to take a beautiful picture later on when I was feeling more Christlike and less jerky:

Ahhh...isn't that lovely? The only thing prettier would have been a picture of the actual city. However, we apparently were never close enough to snap a shot because we were still straining our necks and eyes looking for Chicago when we suddenly found ourselves in...

INDIANA!!

Our plan that evening was to make it to South Bend (which we did) and have a restful evening. After brinner at IHOP, where Thomas flirted with the waitress and the table full of old ladies next to us, we went back to the hotel for some rest. The next day we got an early start and headed a little off course so that Kenta could find a geocache in nearby.....

MICHIGAN!!!

Add another state to your passport, Zip. We were barely two miles north of the Indiana border, but it still counts, right?

Thomas was so good in the car this day. He ate books:

and slept a lot:

When he finally woke up, he looked like Quasimodo:

It didn't take very long until we found ourselves in...

OHIO!!!

And this time, we actually did see a big city:

Which made Kenta very happy.

This made me happy:

and so did this:

I tried to get a shot of Lake Eerie, per Kenta's request, but this was the best I could do:

We took another tiny detour so we could make a quick visit to historic Kirtland, OH. and snap some shots of the temple:

Then it was back to the road. Apparently we passed through:

PENNSYLVANIA!!!

But I honestly don't remember it (even though I took this picture). Twentiesh minutes later we were in:

NEW YORK!!!

Now it was my turn to take pictures of road signs:

That's seriously like the closest we got to NYC. I was surprised to see how rural and wide open New York was. It was really quite beautiful.

I knew we our journey was winding down when I started seeing signs that said:

BOSTON!!!

and it was all but over when we entered...

MASSACHUSETTS!!!

At this point, I had pretty much stopped taking pictures because Kenta's iphone was far more entertaining. I don't remember driving through much of Massachusetts, but I'm pretty sure I read every article on CNN.com and checked my email at least 468 times.

When I saw that we had entered...

NEW HAMPSHIRE!!!

I wanted to collapse on the ground and cover it with kisses. 'Twas, by far, the sweetest moment of the entire journey. I might even frame that picture of Zip and the New Hampshire sign. It just means that much to me.

So there you have it. We survived. We made it to our new home and, so far, we quite like it. I'll be posting some pictures once we get stuff cleaned up and organized completely. Until then, a reminder of why we won't be making any major road trips again any time soon:

I swear. There really was a hole back there for him to breathe through.

A Tale of Two Cities

2009-12-18T15:05:00.007-06:00

The following story is a novel - NOT a picture book. That means there are lots of words and no pictures. You've been warned......

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Menta*. He fell in love with a girl named Mendall* and got married. Shortly after they were married, Menta was promised great riches if he and his lovely wife would move to the far-ish away desert land of Tucson for a summer. Off to the desert they went. It was a great adventure and both Menta and Mendall became enamored with the kind people and curious landscape of the American southwest. They became acquainted with the dangers of the desert flora (SEE JUMPING CHOLLA) and learned that they could tolerate near drought conditions and 100+ degree weather. New friends were made and old friendships were rekindled . The football team at the local university was coached by one of the Brothers Stoops, immediately helping them to feel right at home. A trip to nearby California to visit Menta's Grand Pa and Mendall's brother, along with a visit from Menta's sister from Utah, assured them that family was still not too far away. As their summer adventure in Tucson came to an end, they were again promised even more riches if they would return after two years and permanently live there. Menta and Mendall were eager to return and establish themselves in the desert. They would live the American dream of owning a faux-dobe house with a lava rock yard less than 100 miles from the Mexican border. Yes, life would be grand for them in the desert.

Over a year into Menta's studies, Mendall gave birth to a beautiful baby boy named Vhomas*. Mendall dreamed of raising her baby boy in the desert. As she shopped JBF sales, she thought, "I will never have to by my darling child a heavy winter coat!" So she didn't. Instead she stocked up on 6-12 month t-shirts and swim trunks. Yes, life would be quite simple raising a child in the desert, as they would probably be naked or shirtless at the swimming pool nine months out of the year.

One day near the end of the two years of studies, Menta came home from work and mentioned that he had sent his resume to MIT Lincoln Labs near the far away land of Boston. Mendall, thinking that he was talking about lincoln logs, gave it no further thought. A short time later, a man from Lincoln Labs contacted Menta and asked him if he would be interested in flying out to Boston for an interview. Seeing this as an opportunity to travel east of the Mississippi River for the first time in almost 28 years of life, Menta enthusiastically accepted the invitation. Mendall said good-bye to her husband and was grateful for the opportunity and experience for him to be interviewed by such a prestigious company. Then she proceeded to continue looking online for the perfect faux-dobe house, nestled in a patch of cacti, for their sweet little family.

After Menta returned from the far away land of Boston, the couple waited to hear back from the company that had offered them great riches in the desert land Tucson and the hard-to-pass-up-shot-in-the-dark job in the far away land of Boston. When both companies contacted Menta with their final offers, it became obvious to the young couple that they were going to have to make an agonizing decision.

West or east?

Far away or really far away?

Sort of near family or nowhere near family?

Long, hot summers or long, cold winters?

Suns or Celtics?

After much deliberation and a poll on Facebook, it was decided that the young family would establish themselves near the far away land of Boston. Menta was very excited for the opportunity to work at MIT Lincoln Lab. Mendall was excited about being able to make sweaters and scarves. They soon realized, though, that moving to the far away land of Boston would be far different from their previous plans of moving back to the far-ish away land of Tucson:

Average high temperature in Tucson in January: 66 degrees
Average high temperature in Boston in January: 33 degrees

Proximity to closest family member from Tucson: 600 miles
Proximity to closest family member from Boston: 1,000 miles

Proximity to closest Stoops brother from Tucson: 0 miles
Proximity to closest Stoops brother from Boston: 600 miles

Average age of houses for sale in Tucson: 2 years
Average age of houses for sale in Boston: 200 years

Number of friends in Tucson: at least five
Number of friends in Boston: zero

Distance to Mexico from Tucson: < 100 miles
Distance to Mexico from Boston: 2,000 miles

Menta and Mendall quietly kissed their dreams of owning a lava rock-yarded, faux-dobe house good-bye and began to embrace the reality of a few more years of scrimping and saving and apartment renting . They would not be making great fortunes in the far away land of Boston, but they knew that that was where they were supposed to go. Yes, little Vhomas would grow up a Northeasterner.

As Menta and Mendall began their preparations to journey to the far away land of Boston, they realized what tremendous blessings they had received in the land of their youth: Oklahoma. Though most outsiders found this land to be particularly desolate and boring, both Menta and Mendall had sad and heavy hearts as they thought about leaving friends and family behind. What wonderful memories they had made there! They vowed to themselves that as long as friends and family remained in Oklahoma, they would return to visit and share tales of their adventures in the far away land of Boston. Between visits they would document the happenings of their lives on a blog (ahem...the one you are reading) and keep anyone and everyone who cared informed about their semi-exciting lives. Yes, they decided after all, moving away to the far away land of Boston was just the adventure that they needed.

What will happen to Menta and Mendall and baby Vhomas as they haul a harp cross country in a minivan? Will they find a place to live? Will Menta enjoy his new job? Will they be able to endure their first New England winter? Will they faint when they see the price of milk? Stay tuned for the exciting continuation......

*names have been changed to protect the innocent

And did you guys honestly think I was going to make you read that without rewarding you with some cute Thomas pictures? Puh-leez! You guys know me better than that:

Our li'l Santa Baby. Seriously. So. Cute.

Happy Thanksgivoween!!!

2009-11-29T19:24:00.006-06:00

Now that Thanksgiving is over, I thought it was about time that I posted photos of our Halloween costumes (as promised). Yes, I realize that -except for a few lingering pieces of "reject candy" (i.e. smarties, tootsie rolls, dum dums, laffy taffy, etc.)- most of you have forgotten about Halloween by now. Well, I'm bringing it back. We're going to go on a little trip back in time to show you how Halloween went down here in the 'hood.

Disclaimer: I might have to do some fudging on the details since it has been so long and I have forgotten most of what we actually did. I will probably exaggerate and make things up. Now, if Kenta were the primary author of this blog, you would have already heard about Halloween in great detail at 10:30 p.m. on October 31. He would have covered such important topics as: what we wore, where we went, who was there, what the temperature was outside, the windspeed, barometric pressure, what time the sun set, what the trip meter was at in the car when we hit our final destination, the price of gas, our blood pressure, white blood cell count, and how many trick-or-treaters knocked on our door (oh, wait - I actually do remember that: ZERO).

I decided way back before we even had a baby that themed costumes were totally the way to go for Halloween. Naturally, I spent months thinking about a costume for three. After some brainstorming, I thought, "Yes!! I have it! We'll be Fruit of the Loom!!". Kenta, however, was far less enthusiastic about that idea and promptly shot it down (much to my dismay). So I continued to think: Alvin and the Chipmunks? The Three Little Pigs? Ariel, Sebastian, and Flounder? I just couldn't get excited about anything, until I had this idea:

ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS!!!

Thomas: "The Rock"

Group close up. (sorta). Thomas's shifty eyes and lack of mouth are hilarious in this picture. If you don't believe me, enlarge the picture. If you still don't believe me...we must just have different senses of humor or something.

As you can tell, it was way awkward trying to get a group shot when:
1) Kenta's costume was on his back
2) Kenta had to hold Thomas (otherwise the dowel rods at the top of my costume would poke Thomas in the face)
3) Some random dude at the Weather Center was taking the picture (I could have bossed him around and been really picky and made him take pictures over and over again until we got a decent one, but I didn't know him, so...whatever).

We met up with Kenta at work to take these pictures because this was like three days before his thesis defense when he was still "living" at the Weather Center. Thomas is obviously too young for real trick-or-treating, but we did attend a trunk-or-treat and managed to take no pictures (yeah...lame, I know), but we did wear our costumes a third time for - what else? - a 5k race!!

In 2007, I ran a 5k called the Monster Dash, dressed as a candy corn.

Last year I was out of town (and pregnant) for the event, so in 2009, I decided to make it a family affair. Kenta and I had made a goal this year to run a 5k together and this was pretty much our last opportunity. Naturally, I made him run it with a pair of giant cardboard scissors strapped to his back. It didn't help that some kids thought they were fairy wings, but he was a good sport about it (well...mostly, anyway) I pushed Thomas the entire 3.1 miles in the jogger whilst listening to Kenta complain about the scissors/fairy wings prohibiting him from running in a completely upright fashion. Luckily my sister, Maren, was also running the race (sans costume) and was able to document us in all of our post-race glory.

Back view. Maren's camera skillz are so amazing that it is actually almost entirely impossible to tell what the words say (it says "Runs with Scissors" haha...get it?)

This picture turned out much better. Thanks, Maren!

We finished the race in 32 minutes. Not a bad time, considering we were dressed as over-sized office supplies. Besides us, there was only one other adult racing in a costume. I'm not sure if we finished before or after Gumby did, but we chatted with him afterwards and he complimented us on our awesome outfits.

So that was our Halloween. Was it worth waiting to hear about?

2009-11-10T19:28:00.009-06:00

Sorry, kids. Life got really busy and this little blog went by the wayside. Honestly, I didn't mean for it to happen. I had a post about college football awhile back that I didn't finish writing due to the untimely death of the 2009 OU football season. Then I went to Missouri for a week during Applesaucepalooza 2009. Then my husband neglected Thomas and me for a month while he lived at the National Weather Center finishing his thesis. Then Thomas grew teeth and decided not to take naps. Then...I can't remember. I'll just blame Kenta's thesis. it basically sucked the life out of our family for a few weeks. My creative juices were not flowing, thereby rendering me completely useless at blogging..

I've learned that blogging is a lot like flossing your teeth. You're really good and consistent at it for awhile, then you skip a day....then a week.....then a month...then you decide it's really not that important and quit altogether. You can't really see the immediate benefits of flossing. You don't really know if it's been worth your time until your dentist compliments you on your nice teeth at your check-up. The same with the blog. I put a lot of time into each post (don't ask - it's a little embarrassing how much time I spend) and wonder who actually reads it. So I get neglectful and people I didn't even know were reading it start asking me to update. I feel so loved. I solemnly swear I will never go AWOL again.

I mentioned we were busy. Kenta's been the busiest of all. He defended his thesis last week and PASSED. Huzzah! I now present to you:

Masters of the Universe

Master Yoda

Phil "Zen Master" Jackson

Master P

and the newest Master.....drumroll, please.....

.....Master Kenta

Doesn't he look so distinguished? That's what averaging 4-5 hours of sleep a night for six weeks will do to you. While Kenta was busy working on his thesis and not sleeping, Thomas was busy growing teeth and not sleeping. And, as usual, he was busy being very cute. I have pictures to prove it.

I realized on Halloween Eve that I had yet to take Thomas to a pumpkin patch for some pics. I'm a bad mom like that. Luckily there were about 4.5 pumpkins left for Thomas to pose with.

Caught by a huge gust of wind.

His hair is now long and plentiful enough to blow in the wind. Please take a moment to enlarge the picture and experience the cuteness for yourself.

I didn't have any snacks on hand, but Thomas found something else on his face to snack on. You might not want to enlarge that picture. Ewww...

Speaking of Thomas's face, here are the aforementioned teeth:

We are up to five now.

The obligatory "My Baby is So Cute in the Bathtub Picture":

( I may or may not have parted his hair that way)

And a bonus "My Baby is So Cute in the Bathtub" video:

The battery died after 20 seconds, which was extremely upsetting. He laughed for probably five minutes. It was the cutest thing ever and, of course, Kenta was at work when it happened and Thomas has not done it since.

You might remember that Halloween happened a few weeks ago. So as to not bore you with more blabber and self-indulgent Thomas pics, I will save our Halloween post for another day. But here's a preview:

to be continued.....

Sick and Tired

2009-09-22T17:09:00.007-05:00

...is how I would describe the current state of my little boy, in three words or less. This is a first for us. His first time being sick and my first time taking care of a sick kid. Poor little guy.

I'm not quite sure what it is that he has. I can tell that he is way uncomfortable because he's been super-whiney and that's how I get when I'm sick and uncomfortable. Yesterday there was a drippy nose and eyes and the sniffles. I thought it might be allergies. He woke up less drippy today than yesterday, so I took that as a sign that he was on the mend. This excited me because I had plans to start a project and needed to make myself a Hobby Lobby run. Halfway to the Lob, I heard some painful cries from the backseat and then a horrible wretching noise. I've smelled some awful things in my young life, but I have discovered that banana barf is particularly offensive to my olfactory senses. Mission aborted: I turned the Hoodmobile around for the most direct course back home.

After I got the little guy cleaned up and took his temperature once again (negativo on the fever, so I ruled out The Swine) I suddenly realized that I didn't know what to do with my sick child. I waited for some motherly instincts to kick in, but they never did. So I called my mom.

Isn't it funny that no matter how old we get, when we are sick and not well, we still want our mommies? I remember a time when my younger brother got sick. My parents had just moved to Missouri. I was starting my sophomore year of college and my brother (almost 19) was starting his freshman year and living on his own for the first time. He got really sick and needed some serious TLC. I went over to our sister's house to meet him (she actually lived in my parents' old house with her family) and he was sitting on the front porch, crying, with his face in his hands. It was a pitiful sight. He was sick and needed his mom. But she wasn't there. So he went looking for another mom -my sister- to help him feel better.

So, as I'm contemplating a mother's ability to comfort a sick child, I'm wondering when this super-power kicks in because I know I sure don't have it yet. Poor little Thomas is probably suffering immensely because of it, too. Sorry buddy - I'm doing my best!

Since I can't figure out what to do with my sick baby, I thought I'd just take pictures to document how totally cute he is, even with drippy eyes and horrible banana barf breath.

Here are some of the "Best Ofs" from the sick Thomas photo shoot:

*A click on the above images will magnify his face in all of its goopy-eyed, crusty-nosed glory. You've been warned. Yummy.

Get well soon, little dude.

09-09-09

2009-09-09T19:22:00.026-05:00

Well, with the date being 09-09-09, I thought it would be fun to do something that would be memorable and I had something nice just fly into my hands. It was the the Stevens Aero SQuiRT!

So, I signed up about a year and a half or so ago to be a pilot for Wings Across America (WAA) to help fly an r/c airplane in every state in the US. They started it last year in Virginia and it's finally made it to me. I was pilot number 155. Yesterday, I met up with Jim who was pilot number 154 and we made the hand off in Moore. It was nice to meet a fellow pilot and I was able to get a picture with him. Since I didn't ask his permission to post the picture, I'll hold off on it although if you really want to see it, you can get to it through the WAA website in a round-a-bout way. Anyway, he explained to me a little about the plane and what I needed to do to get it set up and what was in the box. After a few words and pictures, we loaded up the box into the car and I headed home hoping the weather would cooperate enough to let me fly it quickly to get it to Jim, pilot number 156. Maybe I'm supposed to name my next son Jim.

Anyway, I got the box home and we were both very impressed with how nice the box is. There are stickers all over the sides of the box of various r/c clubs that have participated.

There are signatures of every volunteer pilot registered to fly for WAA on the top of the box as you can see in that last picture.
I'm even on the website for WAA as having possession of the plane. You can see for yourself if you go to www.waa-08.org before Saturday afternoon.

Anyway, today, I thought it would be nice to try and fly the plane and hand it off the Jim #156 as soon as possible. I was online at work and saw an article on CNN about how people did some interesting things on September 9, 2009 (999) and I thought, "I should fly the plane on 09-09-09!" I looked at the weather forecast to see if I could fly today and saw the wind was pretty low at the time and that it would be picking up after 3:00 pm. I was originally planning on flying after work one day when the weather was nice but with the winds calm right then, I decided to take off at lunch to go fly it and then go back to work.

I got home right before Kendall did, as she was out running errands, and got the camera and video camera ready to go. Kendall was hoping to go but it was almost time for Thomas's nap so she was a little disappointed. Since this was a rare occasion and it wasn't going to take long, she made and exception decided to come along with Thomas for the event.

I first had Kendall snap a picture of me and Thomas with the SQuiRT in front of the apartment.

Then we packed the plane back up and headed to the park to go fly. As I was getting it put together in the back of the van, I found the wind was stronger than it was supposed to be. I had the thought in the back of my mind, "Don't do it" but I really wanted to fly on 999 and I didn't know when else I would be able to fly soon because of everything going on with school (that's another story) as well as the fact that there was a 20-40% chance of rain for the next 4 days. Yes, I know, 20% - 40% chance of rain in Oklahoma doesn't usually mean a thing but it's completely unpredictable, as I'll prove in the coming months, and I didn't want to take chances.

So, I got everything ready, Kendall sat in the back of the van ready to take pictures and Thomas sat in his car seat.
I did a range check, lined up the plane to fly into the wind, got behind the plane, and hit the throttle to get going and it just went in a circle. I tried again, and went in another circle. I repeated this several times.

You see, with a tail dragging plane, there are issues when you try and take off. Unless everything is just perfect, you tend to turn one way or another. The trick is to just throttle up the plane so the tail doesn't drag and if it's trimmed right, you'll go straight. I was nervous doing that though because it was windy and in addition to that, it wasn't my plane and there are about 150 more people after me that need to fly it, so I couldn't take unnecessary risks.

Well, I finally got it up in the air and started a circuit around the parking lot in the air. By then Thomas had started crying so Kendall had to get him and take care of him so all the pictures of the plane were taken while taking care of Thomas. Quite the feat if I may say so. Some were great shots.

Some were not quite that great.

Where's the plane?

She did a great job. I like the one where it's just taking off. You'll have to click that first picture to see the details.

Anyway, I got up in the air and realized, "It's a lot windier up there than it is down here!" but it was too late to jump ship. I had to fly it and get it down somehow in one piece and I could only fly for 5-6 minutes on a pack before the motor could have cut out. Definitely not nearly as serious or important as what Chesley "Sulley" Sullenberger had to do to land in the Hudson river

but I was pretty nervous.

I wanted to get the plane down so I did one circuit around the parking lot and tried to bring it in for a landing and was way too high to land closely so I throttled up again to gain altitude and do another circuit. Well, same thing again. I came in too high so I throttled up and tried to get it back North flying with the wind to get in position and lost control for a second and the wind turned it left (I was trying to go right) so it lost altitude quickly but finally turned North and went where I wanted it to go. I made sure to give it a little down elevator and got it low enough to land. The wind was strong enough that I probably could have floated it down and landed like a helicopter but I didn't care to try so I just landed the best I could and I landed it just fine.

Kind of hard to see there but it landed just fine even though it may look like it might crash.

I was quite relieved that it was back down on the ground in one piece. I took it back over to Kendall relieved that I had been able to fly it on 09-09-09 and also get it back down without any problems because I really thought I was in trouble when I was in the air.

This evening, I finished off the rest of my responsibilities. I was supposed to write my experiences and any advice to the next pilot(s) in the log book

and sign the top of the box as I was one of the volunteer pilots.

It really was a lot of fun to be able to participate in Wing Across America. If I end up in Arizona in the next few months, I could have the opportunity to fly it again which I believe will be a first for the journey, to have the same person fly in two states, but I could be wrong.

Here's the video of the flight. Sorry for how bumpy it is. If you zoom in closely where I'm flying to plane in the picture where it's taking off, you'll probably be able to see I have a hat on with a camera mounted on it so I can record where I was looking. Obviously, I missed the plane in some areas but I didn't care at the time because I was more concerned about getting the plane back in one piece. It was just a bumpy recording since I was moving around with it on my head. Image stabilization would be nice but you come to appreciate how well your body does it when you move around. You can click on the link below the video for a large version if you want to see the plane a little better.

View on ExposureRoom

Here's the final hand-off with Jim #156.

What did you do on 09-09-09?

I'm showing off Thomas if you can't tell.