We have been cured

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

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....

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...

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

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...

...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

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.