Today while waiting for our oil change to get done, which I don't know
about you, but wow, is it my most favoritest thing to do in the whole
wide world to sit on a sticky, rickety chair in the corner of a dingy
gas station with three writhing girls in my lap, Ruby asked what we
were doing for the Fourth of July.
"We're either hitting up some parties around here or we're going to
Ohio. It depends on Daddy and if he gets out of surgery early enough."
And as I'm saying this, I'm watching Ruby's eyes practically pop out
of her head. "We're going to Ha-why-oh!!!"
"No, not Ha-why-oh. Oooo-hi-o."
"But Ohio is still in Hawaii, right?"
"No. Unfortunately not."
Man. IF ONLY the Midwest was actually a tropical island...med school
would have been sooooo much better.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Bedtime Blog for Today
There have been times in my life when I've heard really big-deal news
and will never forget where I was, like today learning that Michael
Jackson had died. This was a huge deal for me. As a child I loved the
icon and his music and his moves. My favorite songs were always his I
remember "moon walking" for my grandparents when I was like 4, which
was basically just walking backwards and moving my shoulders up and
down, one at a time. My first show-and-tell in kindergarten was my red
tape player, with MJ's face airbrushed onto the speakers. Annie are
you okay? I always thought he was singing about me and when i was old
enough to know he wasn't, I still pretended he was. Michael Jackson
was a big part of my childhood. Today, after walking out of an evening
Zumba class completely spent, I overheard two guys talking and looking
up at a tv and caught that someone had died. It's weird in moments
like these--all of a sudden, you totally start talking to complete
strangers and there's this really raw, intimate exchange, you share
the exact same moment with someone you don't even know. So I ask the
guy who died, he tells me and then his friend chimes in and we sort of
stand around and talk about Michael Jackson for a couple of minutes,
in total shock, then we all kind of snap out of the same shocked
reverie then just sort of mumble "Take care" or something just as
trite and wander off. And you'll always remember that exchange you
had with two total strangers after walking out of Zumba class.
and will never forget where I was, like today learning that Michael
Jackson had died. This was a huge deal for me. As a child I loved the
icon and his music and his moves. My favorite songs were always his I
remember "moon walking" for my grandparents when I was like 4, which
was basically just walking backwards and moving my shoulders up and
down, one at a time. My first show-and-tell in kindergarten was my red
tape player, with MJ's face airbrushed onto the speakers. Annie are
you okay? I always thought he was singing about me and when i was old
enough to know he wasn't, I still pretended he was. Michael Jackson
was a big part of my childhood. Today, after walking out of an evening
Zumba class completely spent, I overheard two guys talking and looking
up at a tv and caught that someone had died. It's weird in moments
like these--all of a sudden, you totally start talking to complete
strangers and there's this really raw, intimate exchange, you share
the exact same moment with someone you don't even know. So I ask the
guy who died, he tells me and then his friend chimes in and we sort of
stand around and talk about Michael Jackson for a couple of minutes,
in total shock, then we all kind of snap out of the same shocked
reverie then just sort of mumble "Take care" or something just as
trite and wander off. And you'll always remember that exchange you
had with two total strangers after walking out of Zumba class.
I still remember what the woman looked like who told me that the World
Trade Center had just been hit by an airplane that morning on the
subway. She had orange bifocals. At one point while walking the NYC
streets minutes after it happened, after emerging from underground, I
ducked inside a sandwich shop and witnessed the deli guy watch his
little TV in the corner and silently cry, right there in front of me.
"Can you believe what just happened?" we asked each other. It was so
odd, that exchange.
When Elizabeth Smart was found, I was at Go's med school weight
lifting competition. A guy who was off to the side on a computer
suddenly blurted out "They found her! They found Elizabeth Smart!" I
ran over to his computer and read the page. I didn't know him, but
there I was right over his shoulder, breathing down his neck, tears
streaming down my race, totally unabashed.
But now that I think of it, maybe it's weird that we don't have more
moments like these--that we are so closed off from each other that it
takes something so emotionally jarring for us to have a real momentary
connection with another person when we wouldn't otherwise. It's just
weird. ...Goodnight.
Sent from my iPhone
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Recent Ponderings on Things of Angst
Lately I'm having a hard time with:
-My children growing older: I just put away Olive's newborn clothes and brought out the next size up. Sad. And May is so not my baby anymore, which is also sad. And I worry for Ruby as she ages, mainly her self esteem. As she's gotten older, she isn't as sure of herself as I think she deserves to be and because I don't know what else to blame it on, I blame myself but without a real reason. Raising girls is scary. Insights on raising well adjusted, happy, secure girls are welcomed and encouraged.
-Go's schedule: long hours, tired bones, missed dinners, lots of studying, not a lot of time with him. Sick to death of it. I miss him.
-Keeping my house clean: I can't seem to keep up with my kids' wake of utter destruction. I feel like all I do is bark at them to clean up their messes. And clean. And bark. And clean some more...without anything actually getting clean.
-Losing the baby weight: it's slooooow going. Not back into my jeans nor most of my skirts yet. Kind of bitter about that.
-Finding no time for hobbies: I'm actually ok with this one. My arts and sewing and silly do-dads are better for when I'm cooped up inside during winter anyway.
-Training for an upcoming 5K: yes. Training for a 5K. Pathetic. But my body doesn't know how to run and fights me every step of the way. And lately it's especially screaming "NO!" everytime I start so much as trot. I think I'm just really, really exhausted between extreme sleep deprivation, nursing Olive, and teaching spin/working out as hard as I have been, to get on that tread mill and try to hit the marks I've set for myself...it's just not happening.
-Trying to be grateful for having the many things I need (and more) and trying not to need the many things I want: is fighting materialism as much of a constant battle for everyone else as it is for me?
-My children growing older: I just put away Olive's newborn clothes and brought out the next size up. Sad. And May is so not my baby anymore, which is also sad. And I worry for Ruby as she ages, mainly her self esteem. As she's gotten older, she isn't as sure of herself as I think she deserves to be and because I don't know what else to blame it on, I blame myself but without a real reason. Raising girls is scary. Insights on raising well adjusted, happy, secure girls are welcomed and encouraged.
-Go's schedule: long hours, tired bones, missed dinners, lots of studying, not a lot of time with him. Sick to death of it. I miss him.
-Keeping my house clean: I can't seem to keep up with my kids' wake of utter destruction. I feel like all I do is bark at them to clean up their messes. And clean. And bark. And clean some more...without anything actually getting clean.
-Losing the baby weight: it's slooooow going. Not back into my jeans nor most of my skirts yet. Kind of bitter about that.
-Finding no time for hobbies: I'm actually ok with this one. My arts and sewing and silly do-dads are better for when I'm cooped up inside during winter anyway.
-Training for an upcoming 5K: yes. Training for a 5K. Pathetic. But my body doesn't know how to run and fights me every step of the way. And lately it's especially screaming "NO!" everytime I start so much as trot. I think I'm just really, really exhausted between extreme sleep deprivation, nursing Olive, and teaching spin/working out as hard as I have been, to get on that tread mill and try to hit the marks I've set for myself...it's just not happening.
-Trying to be grateful for having the many things I need (and more) and trying not to need the many things I want: is fighting materialism as much of a constant battle for everyone else as it is for me?
Monday, June 22, 2009
Three Way Random Memories I've Had as of Late, Conjured Up For No Good Reason At All
- During the summer of 2000, I acquired an aquarium that came with a humongous olive green frog who I named "Mother," but pronounced it like someone from Brooklyn: "Muthah." He was a beautiful animal with skin that looked exactly like the gorgeous gloves Michelle Obama wore on Inauguration Day. Tell me you saw them; they were fabulous. Now, after seeing last season's Project Runway, I would have named that frog "Leather," pronounced "Leathah" in honor of Blayne's imitation of Stella and her love of leathah. Because Muthah looked like Michelle Obama's leathah gloves. That looked like buttah.
-I went on a couple of blind dates in college, all of which were arranged by various aunts of mine. One auntie in particular, who shall remain nameless, decided to give my number to this guy she swore up and down was great. We talked on the phone a couple of times. He was funny and I could tell he was smart, so I agreed to go out with him despite the fact that he was way older than I was, which was something of a turn-off, for fear he was desperately seeking a mate, any mate. But he seemed pretty cool, so I was like "Why not? Free food," which is basically my life's mantra. The day before we were supposed to go out, he called and it came up that the next day, for the 8 hours prior to our date, I would be at work all day long which I wasn't looking forward to. "Oh, where do you work?" he asks. "The Game Center," I reply. (The bowling alley/arcade/pool table place at BYU.) I'd like to note that I did not say where I worked with even a milligram of enthusiasm. We talk a little while longer and at the end of our conversation I ask what we're doing the next evening. I want to know how to dress. See if I can finally wear those black leather chaps I've been saving for something special, of course. "It's a surprise." Ok. So the next day, I work at the Game Center all day long spraying lemon scented poison into sweaty bowling shoes, getting greasy bowling balls unstuck from the pin ring in the back while totally smashing my fingers in the process, refunding perturbed customers after the Misses Pac Man arcade eats their quarter even though it says "Out of Order" in a big, bold printed sign taped right on the freaking machine's screen, listening to the same sappy Air Supply whining from the jukebox, and inhaling that dreaded Game Center odor of dust, sweat, drug store cologne and post-mission angst. I hated that place. So I come home, shower off the second-hand stench of fake rotten lemons, dust, sweat, cologne and angst and get ready for my date. The guy arrives, he's ok looking--a little "Peter P" for my taste but I don't hold it against him too much. We get in the car and he's like "So do you want to know where we're going?" and I'm like "Sure," and I kid you not, HE TAKES ME BACK TO THE GAME CENTER FOR OUR DATE EVEN THOUGH HE KNEW I HAD JUST LEFT THE STINKING PLACE NOT EVEN AN HOUR BEFORE, AFTER SPENDING LIKE AN ETERNITY THERE . And I didn't even try to be cool about it. I totally protested. Profusely protested, in fact. Like totally begged to go somewhere, anywhere but there. But dude wanted to bowl. Needless to say, I did not bother answering the phone when he called a couple of days later. Thanks for that gem by the way, Auntie.
- In high school I had a strict midnight hour curfew. Because nothing good happens after midnight. At the time, I thought it was like, so totally lame, you guys that I had a curfew. But looking back, my parents were oh-so-wise and my girls are totally having having a midnight curfew. Anyway, at midnight, and not a minute past or there was hell to pay, I would come in the door, kick off my shoes, which were always something kick-offable: Birkenstocks, suede Simple clogs or flip flops and sit up on a red bar stool. During the summer months, all the windows would be open, along with the screen door and the scent of oranges and jasmine would waft inside from the orange groves and jasmine bushes across the street. I would ramble on about the evening's shenanigans while consuming an entire watermelon with my Dad while we would sit side by side slicing off chunks. My Mom, with a red and white plaid dish towel thrown over her shoulder and an apron tied tightly around her waist of course, would be putting away dishes. The crickets would be chirping, my dog would be snoring upstairs. My brothers would be upstairs in the bonus room watching The Jamie Foxx show and howling with laughter. My Mom would start the dishwasher, filling the house with a rhythmic hum and swish song. Those were really good days.
-I went on a couple of blind dates in college, all of which were arranged by various aunts of mine. One auntie in particular, who shall remain nameless, decided to give my number to this guy she swore up and down was great. We talked on the phone a couple of times. He was funny and I could tell he was smart, so I agreed to go out with him despite the fact that he was way older than I was, which was something of a turn-off, for fear he was desperately seeking a mate, any mate. But he seemed pretty cool, so I was like "Why not? Free food," which is basically my life's mantra. The day before we were supposed to go out, he called and it came up that the next day, for the 8 hours prior to our date, I would be at work all day long which I wasn't looking forward to. "Oh, where do you work?" he asks. "The Game Center," I reply. (The bowling alley/arcade/pool table place at BYU.) I'd like to note that I did not say where I worked with even a milligram of enthusiasm. We talk a little while longer and at the end of our conversation I ask what we're doing the next evening. I want to know how to dress. See if I can finally wear those black leather chaps I've been saving for something special, of course. "It's a surprise." Ok. So the next day, I work at the Game Center all day long spraying lemon scented poison into sweaty bowling shoes, getting greasy bowling balls unstuck from the pin ring in the back while totally smashing my fingers in the process, refunding perturbed customers after the Misses Pac Man arcade eats their quarter even though it says "Out of Order" in a big, bold printed sign taped right on the freaking machine's screen, listening to the same sappy Air Supply whining from the jukebox, and inhaling that dreaded Game Center odor of dust, sweat, drug store cologne and post-mission angst. I hated that place. So I come home, shower off the second-hand stench of fake rotten lemons, dust, sweat, cologne and angst and get ready for my date. The guy arrives, he's ok looking--a little "Peter P" for my taste but I don't hold it against him too much. We get in the car and he's like "So do you want to know where we're going?" and I'm like "Sure," and I kid you not, HE TAKES ME BACK TO THE GAME CENTER FOR OUR DATE EVEN THOUGH HE KNEW I HAD JUST LEFT THE STINKING PLACE NOT EVEN AN HOUR BEFORE, AFTER SPENDING LIKE AN ETERNITY THERE . And I didn't even try to be cool about it. I totally protested. Profusely protested, in fact. Like totally begged to go somewhere, anywhere but there. But dude wanted to bowl. Needless to say, I did not bother answering the phone when he called a couple of days later. Thanks for that gem by the way, Auntie.
- In high school I had a strict midnight hour curfew. Because nothing good happens after midnight. At the time, I thought it was like, so totally lame, you guys that I had a curfew. But looking back, my parents were oh-so-wise and my girls are totally having having a midnight curfew. Anyway, at midnight, and not a minute past or there was hell to pay, I would come in the door, kick off my shoes, which were always something kick-offable: Birkenstocks, suede Simple clogs or flip flops and sit up on a red bar stool. During the summer months, all the windows would be open, along with the screen door and the scent of oranges and jasmine would waft inside from the orange groves and jasmine bushes across the street. I would ramble on about the evening's shenanigans while consuming an entire watermelon with my Dad while we would sit side by side slicing off chunks. My Mom, with a red and white plaid dish towel thrown over her shoulder and an apron tied tightly around her waist of course, would be putting away dishes. The crickets would be chirping, my dog would be snoring upstairs. My brothers would be upstairs in the bonus room watching The Jamie Foxx show and howling with laughter. My Mom would start the dishwasher, filling the house with a rhythmic hum and swish song. Those were really good days.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Thirty Present Simple Pleasures
1. This American Life podcasts
2. Fiber One bars
3. Zumba
4. Ceiling fans
5. The nightly Conan O'Brien/Jimmy Fallon line up
6. Paste magazine
7. Short stories
8. The anticipation of "Gentlemen Broncos"
9. Aveeno facial sunblock
10. Nifty Fifty lens
11. Wool felt
12. Method products
13. Paper chains
14. Edamame
15. Tshirt sheets
16. Izze drinks
17. Fast drying nail polish
18. Olive's coos
19. Ruby's "inventions"
20. May's outfits
21. Extra Gum
22. My peony bushes
23. Fresh herbs
24. The colors yellow and green
25. Venus razors
26. Baby lotion
27. Real Simple magazine
28. Food Network
29. Summer fruit
30. Forever stamps
2. Fiber One bars
3. Zumba
4. Ceiling fans
5. The nightly Conan O'Brien/Jimmy Fallon line up
6. Paste magazine
7. Short stories
8. The anticipation of "Gentlemen Broncos"
9. Aveeno facial sunblock
10. Nifty Fifty lens
11. Wool felt
12. Method products
13. Paper chains
14. Edamame
15. Tshirt sheets
16. Izze drinks
17. Fast drying nail polish
18. Olive's coos
19. Ruby's "inventions"
20. May's outfits
21. Extra Gum
22. My peony bushes
23. Fresh herbs
24. The colors yellow and green
25. Venus razors
26. Baby lotion
27. Real Simple magazine
28. Food Network
29. Summer fruit
30. Forever stamps
Friday, June 19, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Lunchtime Authors, Part 1
One of my plans for this summer was to read to the girls while we ate lunch. But then I had a better idea: we're going to write our own book. Every day for the next couple of weeks when we eat lunch at home, we're going to work on it. While the girls take their "rests" afterward, I'll spend some time on the illustrations. Not much time--they'll be pretty simple and quick , but I think it will be a fun summer project.
Here's what we have so far:
Here's what we have so far:
Friday, June 12, 2009
Bird Party
Would you think I was lying if I told you Ruby is thrilled to be six years old?
Me, like a month ago: Rubes, what kind of birthday party do you want?
Ruby: A butterfly party!
Me: Ugh. Allright.
For a couple of days, I let this simmer and actually came up with a cute way to construct a butterfly cake. As for activities, all I could come up with was wrapping the kids up in toilet paper, mummy style and let them break free from their "cocoons." Though that kind of sounded like fun, I wasn't coming up with much else. I'm all for letting my kids have creative reign (May's outfits are proof) but I thought I'd suggest something else and see how it went over: a bird party. I had thought of all kinds of fun things and to my delight, Ruby was into it.
I wish I took pictures of the invitations we made, but I didn't. Picture gardeny paper with a simple wool felt bird shape adhered to the front. Trust me, it was cute.
Yesterday we drew birds all over our walkway "just in case people don't know it's a bird party," said Ruby.
Olive supervised.
Ruby made sure to wear her favorite skirt, just in case anyone was still confused as to the party's theme:
Each girl got a feather clip to wear:
The activities:
We played a Baby Bird Game: Each girl partnered up and all were given a string wrapped around a gummy worm. They took turns while one girl held the string up while the other girl ate the gummy worm like a baby bird. (If you ever do this, I suggest you have the strings tied around the gummy worms before the party starts, otherwise you'll be frantically tying strings onto wiggly worms while 20 bouncing little girls majorly invade your personal space.) I wish I had gotten a picture of this but I was busy tying strings and having my personal space invaded.
We made bird feeders:
the supplies:
the finished product:
They went on an egg hunt: also not pictured. But Go and his buddy Dan (who held Olive the entire party, bless that man) hid a bunch of candy-filled plastic eggs outside. Some of the bigger girls got out the door before the rest so some ended up with tons and others ended up with very little. I'm still feeling badly about this...
They went on an egg hunt: also not pictured. But Go and his buddy Dan (who held Olive the entire party, bless that man) hid a bunch of candy-filled plastic eggs outside. Some of the bigger girls got out the door before the rest so some ended up with tons and others ended up with very little. I'm still feeling badly about this...Then we ate cake:
(Can you tell what I was aiming for? A nest with eggs inside?) And yes, I know the Peeps came out back around Easter but luckily for us, they have a shelf life roughly of the same life span of a giant redwood tree. Or Barbara Walters.
Then we played.
After that, we went back inside for present opening and more playing. When it was time to go, everyone left with a bird house filled with chocolate eggs.
I think she had a good time.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
If You Have the Means, I Highly Recommend Picking Yourself Up a MayMay
joking. I hope you all have a MayMay- equivalent in your own life.
We Went Strawberry Picking Yesterday
"Dis strawberry has a weird bottom, Mama."
When you're missing your two front teeth, eating on of the side of your mouth is out of necessity.
Behold: yesterday's outfit. Not pictured: very old white patent-leather church shoes.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Happy 8 Years of Mah-wage to Us
Dear Go,
I not only love you, but I really, really like you as well.
Love,
Me
I not only love you, but I really, really like you as well.
Love,
Me
Lindsey Buckingham, I Applaude You, Your Crazy Fingers and Your Girly Name
I've never really been into Fleetwood Mac,
but how on earth have I lived almost 29 years
without being aware of this RAD song?
but how on earth have I lived almost 29 years
without being aware of this RAD song?
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Still Shooting Up the Place
I know I haven't said anything about photography in awhile, but I'm still doing photography gigs when I can. The photography blog has now been updated after a hefty hiatus. There will also be more to come as I have four more shoots in the next couple of weeks. Splendid! Click the "annie reynolds photography" link on the sidebar if you dare. Or if you care. Bear. Share. Mare. Hair. La-la-la-la-la.
Friday, June 05, 2009
All Three
Ruby: It was her last day of school today. She said she's both happy and sad. Happy "that she gets to take naps again" but sad because she "won't see her friends every day." Ruby loves to sleep. She's actually sleeping right now.
The First Day of Kindergarten: August 2008
The Last Day of Kindergarten: June 2009
May: The fashionista. She dresses herself everyday, from head to toe and decides on the hair style/accessories. I never know what she'll put together and very rarely do I make her change. I do, however, insist that her bottom crack not show, which happens most of the time because she has the smallest bum ever. Oh, she sooooo got it from me. (said very, very sarcastically)
Still trying to grab the foot.
I love it when she makes this face.
I love them.
"I want to weeeear my froggy boots, Mama.
Do you want to weeeear you boots?
I wike you boots, Mama.
Do you wike my boots?
Dey have froggies on dem."
Do you want to weeeear you boots?
I wike you boots, Mama.
Do you wike my boots?
Dey have froggies on dem."
Her current favorite pose.
It looks almost natural when she's sitting down
but not so much when she's standing,
but that doesn't stop her.
Olive: This one loves attention. Oh my. The flirting with the random public has officially begun. She smiles with her whole body--simultaneous wriggling and smiling. She sings/coos to the radio and has turned into a great napper but has started waking up more in the night than she used to. She's also an early riser--ready to party at 6 am every morning, which of course is a horrible combination for me but I'm hoping this will end soon and she'll settle back into only waking up once a night or not at all opposed to every 3 hours. She's working hard on sitting up and grabbing her feet. She's just about there with the grabbing but the sitting still needs some work.It looks almost natural when she's sitting down
but not so much when she's standing,
but that doesn't stop her.
Yes, Mom. You are seeing a faint dimple there.
There's another one on the other side, too.
Rejoice!
There's that foot I was talking about.
There's another one on the other side, too.
Rejoice!
There's that foot I was talking about.
Still trying to grab the foot.
I love it when she makes this face.
I love them.
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Lately
Our wedding anniversary is coming up--eight years. Most of the time, it seems to me that Go and I have been married a really long time. That wasn't meant as a hee-hee-hee-playful-yet-loving-jab-in-the-ribs; we've been through a lot during the past 8 years, so it seems like even longer than that to me most of the time.
Tonight though, I was lying on our bed with the girls, getting ready for our nightly prayer/hug ritual. We were waiting for Go and I found myself mentally putting "eight years" into different references, like "That's the length of high school and college combined!" and "That's the length between ages 11 and 19!" It was just weird, as I lay on the bed surrounded by my girls and thought about all that had happened and what had been produced in that length of time. Suddenly, it seemed like just yesterday I was standing there at my wedding reception, very young and stoked to realize that I had just married a guy who had longer hair than I did. I couldn't have been happier and neither could he.
So it's been eight years and we're still in sync, even when we don't mean to be. Today it was discovered that we had inadvertently been working toward the same goal: to be happy whatever we're doing, wherever we are.
His goal stemmed from a work/home standpoint. When he's at work, he should focus on enjoying the process of cutting people open and sewing them back together in an aesthetically pleasing fashion rather than focusing on how long he's been there, how tired he is and how many days its been since he's seen his girls. And when he's home, he needs to let go of the stresses of work and bask in the golden glory of the Reynolds women.
I, on the other hand, have been trying to live in the moment and enjoy each day, despite the issues I have with my current location. I need to quit the ever-going internal "I Don't Belong on the East Coast" pity party and realize it's not where I am, but what I am that matters. For me, this stems from the knowledge that Olive could be my second-to-last baby. That sentence sounds ridiculous, but really, just thinking about it makes me verklempt. I love my babies--I love all babies, period and I don't want it to end. If I could hold babies for the rest of my life, I'd be in heaven. I remember confessing to my room mate back in college, Katie, that I didn't really want to get married, I just wanted a baby. This was before I met Go. Oooobvsiously. Katie laughed, probably thought I was kidding, perhaps an attempted slam against the male race, which wasn't something out of the ordinary, but I really wasn't joking; I was completely serious. I wondered how many girls were there at BYU wanting a baby more than a husband, like I was. I wondered if they had the same sudden urge, when they were just walking around campus maneuvering through the sea of smiling faces, trying not to take anyone out with their giant art portfolio and of course not cutting corners, when out of the clear blue Utah sky, SLAM! they wanted, no, NEEDED to hold a baby, any baby. Right then. Did they NEED to shmush chubby smooth skin, kiss a soft velvety cheek and run their hands over a crop of fluffy hair? Did they NEED a tiny but strong grasp around their finger and to be looked at with clear, bright eyes? My whole body would just ache to hold a baby, but there I was, shlepping around Provo, totally babyless, much to my Bishop and my parent's delight/relief.
This feeling actually first began with a chimpanzee when I was probably 10 or so. My brothers and I were watching some show and the guy carried around a monkey in a diaper. It was like lightening had struck. I HAD to hold a chimpanzee. I physically yearned to carry around a diapered monkey. I remember professing this to John and Joe and they were both like "Yah! How cool would it be to just walk around holding a monkey?" I like my brothers. They get me.
So that's what I'm doing--realizing that what I'm doing right now, every day, is exactly what I wanted my whole life. It doesn't matter that it's not where I want to be, but it matters what I'm doing and who I am. Even though I still have never held a monkey wearing a diaper, I'm a mother of three ridiculously fun girls and I married a guy who used to have longer hair than me and I love it. This is the life I wanted all along.
Summer is approaching and I have loads of things planned. This summer, I want to teach my girls how to make the most of each day and bask in the glory that is right now and enjoy being who we are right now. This is their childhood. These are the years our family will look back on and long to have back. So right now, I think I'm going to go kiss Go and tell him that these past 8 years have been rad and I love who we are right now.
Tonight though, I was lying on our bed with the girls, getting ready for our nightly prayer/hug ritual. We were waiting for Go and I found myself mentally putting "eight years" into different references, like "That's the length of high school and college combined!" and "That's the length between ages 11 and 19!" It was just weird, as I lay on the bed surrounded by my girls and thought about all that had happened and what had been produced in that length of time. Suddenly, it seemed like just yesterday I was standing there at my wedding reception, very young and stoked to realize that I had just married a guy who had longer hair than I did. I couldn't have been happier and neither could he.
So it's been eight years and we're still in sync, even when we don't mean to be. Today it was discovered that we had inadvertently been working toward the same goal: to be happy whatever we're doing, wherever we are.
His goal stemmed from a work/home standpoint. When he's at work, he should focus on enjoying the process of cutting people open and sewing them back together in an aesthetically pleasing fashion rather than focusing on how long he's been there, how tired he is and how many days its been since he's seen his girls. And when he's home, he needs to let go of the stresses of work and bask in the golden glory of the Reynolds women.
I, on the other hand, have been trying to live in the moment and enjoy each day, despite the issues I have with my current location. I need to quit the ever-going internal "I Don't Belong on the East Coast" pity party and realize it's not where I am, but what I am that matters. For me, this stems from the knowledge that Olive could be my second-to-last baby. That sentence sounds ridiculous, but really, just thinking about it makes me verklempt. I love my babies--I love all babies, period and I don't want it to end. If I could hold babies for the rest of my life, I'd be in heaven. I remember confessing to my room mate back in college, Katie, that I didn't really want to get married, I just wanted a baby. This was before I met Go. Oooobvsiously. Katie laughed, probably thought I was kidding, perhaps an attempted slam against the male race, which wasn't something out of the ordinary, but I really wasn't joking; I was completely serious. I wondered how many girls were there at BYU wanting a baby more than a husband, like I was. I wondered if they had the same sudden urge, when they were just walking around campus maneuvering through the sea of smiling faces, trying not to take anyone out with their giant art portfolio and of course not cutting corners, when out of the clear blue Utah sky, SLAM! they wanted, no, NEEDED to hold a baby, any baby. Right then. Did they NEED to shmush chubby smooth skin, kiss a soft velvety cheek and run their hands over a crop of fluffy hair? Did they NEED a tiny but strong grasp around their finger and to be looked at with clear, bright eyes? My whole body would just ache to hold a baby, but there I was, shlepping around Provo, totally babyless, much to my Bishop and my parent's delight/relief.
This feeling actually first began with a chimpanzee when I was probably 10 or so. My brothers and I were watching some show and the guy carried around a monkey in a diaper. It was like lightening had struck. I HAD to hold a chimpanzee. I physically yearned to carry around a diapered monkey. I remember professing this to John and Joe and they were both like "Yah! How cool would it be to just walk around holding a monkey?" I like my brothers. They get me.
So that's what I'm doing--realizing that what I'm doing right now, every day, is exactly what I wanted my whole life. It doesn't matter that it's not where I want to be, but it matters what I'm doing and who I am. Even though I still have never held a monkey wearing a diaper, I'm a mother of three ridiculously fun girls and I married a guy who used to have longer hair than me and I love it. This is the life I wanted all along.
Summer is approaching and I have loads of things planned. This summer, I want to teach my girls how to make the most of each day and bask in the glory that is right now and enjoy being who we are right now. This is their childhood. These are the years our family will look back on and long to have back. So right now, I think I'm going to go kiss Go and tell him that these past 8 years have been rad and I love who we are right now.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
So, uh, big gulps huh?
Today I took in cookies to Ruby's classroom. I wore Olive in the
BabyBjorn (and got totally mauled by grubby little kindergartners). A
liitle boy shoved into the crowd and tugged on my shirt. I looked
down, said hello and the kid goes "My sister has a baby!" and I said
something like "You're an uncle! That's awesome!" and he's says very
matter-of-factly, "No, not really. My sister's really young. She's
only 18."
BabyBjorn (and got totally mauled by grubby little kindergartners). A
liitle boy shoved into the crowd and tugged on my shirt. I looked
down, said hello and the kid goes "My sister has a baby!" and I said
something like "You're an uncle! That's awesome!" and he's says very
matter-of-factly, "No, not really. My sister's really young. She's
only 18."
"Hiking"
This week marked the official beginning of Go's plastic surgery training and official ending of his general surgery training. These last three months, he's had elective rotations and has had an AWESOME schedule, meaning: Monday through Friday, 8 to 5. This may be normal to the rest of the modern world, but to our family, it's been a whole new world. A new fantastic point of view. Yes, it was that good. Disney-song good. It was grand. It was glorious. It was dishes being done by someone besides myself. It was having him home for dinner every night. It was having him carry the girls upstairs up to their beds at a normal bedtime hour. It was being able to stay up late with him whenever we wanted. It was, well, fantastic. Aaaand all that came to a screeching halt yesterday as he started his plastic surgery training, woke up at 5 am, worked all day and night, didn't get home until almost midnight and woke up this morning at 5 to do it all over again. This will be the next 3 years of our lives. Just stating the facts. I'm excited we're halfway through residency but will miss him after being spoiled for three months. See ya in three years, Go. It's been real.
This past weekend, we went on what Ruby kept calling a "hike," but really, it was more like "a walk somewhere besides our neighborhood." Here are some pictures from our strenuous hiking adventure. Disclaimer: these pictures were taken with a point and shoot and most of them, not by me. Not that they're bad...again, just stating facts...
Aw. How tender.
This past weekend, we went on what Ruby kept calling a "hike," but really, it was more like "a walk somewhere besides our neighborhood." Here are some pictures from our strenuous hiking adventure. Disclaimer: these pictures were taken with a point and shoot and most of them, not by me. Not that they're bad...again, just stating facts...
"Mom! Come sit in here with us! It smells like poop!"
Well, by all means. What better place to take a rest?
This shot was taken after Ruby, because her blood sugar was high, had to pee really, really bad. A bathroom was no where in sight on our hike through the forest.
I helped her hang herself over the railing and got sprayed with urine.
I'm pretty sure I know why this little hut smells the way it does.
Well, by all means. What better place to take a rest?
This shot was taken after Ruby, because her blood sugar was high, had to pee really, really bad. A bathroom was no where in sight on our hike through the forest.I helped her hang herself over the railing and got sprayed with urine.
I'm pretty sure I know why this little hut smells the way it does.
The girls looking out the poop-hut's windows. "Look, Mom! I can see my pee from here!"
A man and his baby.
The girls.
"AAALL-LUUUUV!"
translation: "Olive!"
this shot was taken during the "luuuuv" part.
translation: "Olive!"
this shot was taken during the "luuuuv" part.
This is what I do all day long, just not usually in the middle of a forest.
Refreshment.
Aw. How tender.
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