so mazing

This morning as the kids were just starting to stir in their beds I was out plugging the van into the battery charger and changing laundry over at my mom's.  There's a monitor at my mom's house so that I can listen for my kids.  When I got back Cumorah was out of bed, so they had noticed my absence.  But it didn't concern them much, it's happened before.  Sometimes they'll come out on the deck and peer through the railings waiting for someone to come and take care of them.  So while I was changing Sidon's diaper Rivers struck up a conversation from her seat on the potty.

"Mommy, where did you go?"

"I went and plugged in the van so that it can work again and then I went to Grandmommy's house to put the clean laundry in the dryers and to put your wee-wee blankets into the washer so they can be clean again."
(It was one of those nights when I awoke at 1 am to a small cry for help and the realization that I had forgotten to put Rivers panty-diaper (our fancy name for pull-up) on after her shower.)

"Wow.  You are the mazing one."

It's nice to get compliments and appreciation from your two-year-old every once in a while.

getting out

Today we went to the Folsom City Zoo and Sanctuary.  The zoo and the library and the park are all right next to each other.  When you're children are ages 3, 2, and 1, any time that you can park in one spot and enjoy several different activities is a very good time.  That getting in and out of a car with so many little seatbelts routine is a real big pain.  We bought a season pass to the zoo in the spring and we haven't used it as much as I was hoping.  I'm not real good at getting out sometimes.  Most of the time really.  So today I was feeling pretty good about life.  The zoo was great today.  It was a gray, cool morning.  The animals were actually up and about instead of hiding from the heat.  The zoo is very small.  Most of the animals are not so exotic.  Most are native wild animals that have been injured or lost their mothers as babies or something.  But there are two tigers and a handful of monkeys.  The mountain lions and the bears are my favorite.  After the zoo we went to the library.  After a couple stories and 8 checked out books and a potty trip, we got all buckled up in the car.  We were ready to head to Target next.  And then I discovered that I had left the lights on and my car wouldn't even think about starting.  Dead.  After I hit my head on the steering wheel a couple of times I called AAA.  We waited an hour.  Wasn't so bad really.  My kids were already strapped in, the girls had a pile of new library books they were happy to read and after I most gratefully found a binky hidden under one of the seats (I figured there had to be one somewhere in the car) Sidon slept for most of the hour.  But the AAA man couldn't jump my car for me.  Darn you big-diesel-monster-of-a-living-room-two-batteried van.  So after 20 minutes of trying to start the car we waited for another 40 minutes for the tow truck.  We towed it all the way back home.  We have AAA plus because we're that sort of family.  We walked to the swings to wait for the tow truck there.  Cumorah was so nervous about the tow truck coming.  I kept trying to assure her that all was well and that she didn't have to worry about anything, but when the truck showed up she almost started crying.  Poor girl.  My mom and Pearl came down in the rescue minivan so we wouldn't have to ride in the tow truck.  They did bring out the double cab for us.  But moving one car seat into Amy's van instead of three car seats into a stranger's tow truck was a whole lot nicer.  When we all made it home and Brian heard about the double cab he said, "And you didn't ride in the tow truck?!?!!  That would've made an awesome blog post."  I'm glad that I don't make all my decisions in life based on the awesomeness potential of my blog posts.

the missing paragraph

So I do have a birthday present for Brian.  I just forgot that I did.  Cumorah found part of it for me and I've now remembered that the rest is under my bed.

It has come to my attention that a paragraph of my last post is missing.  The internet crashed while I was typing it and that paragraph must not have made it.  I'm telling the truth.  Let's see if I remember what I wrote...

For our fifth anniversary just this past summer Brian was (surprise, surprise) gone.  It happened to fall on a Monday, the first day of his rotation in Arizona.  He went into the hospital that morning and found out that he was not scheduled for a shift until Thursday morning.  He got in the car and drove all day to make it home just as I was putting the kids to bed.  That was one of our sweetest reunions.  Though probably not as sweet as our reunion in New Zealand after he had been in Antarctica at the South Pole for four months of our seven month marriage.  We didn't have any kids back then and we were still newly weds and we were vacationing in New Zealand and he had grown a really big manly beard that was surprisingly soft and that is totally unrelated to what I was typing in the first place.  It seems we've had a lot of reunions during our marriage.  So, he made it home to tell me happy anniversary in person and he gave me a present.  I already knew he had a present and I knew he was excited to give it to me and I knew he was pretty sure that I was going to love it.  He was totally right.  In fact, I cried when he gave it to me.  Because I'm a hopeless romantic.  It's true.  He gave me a locket.  He spent some time finding one that was pretty and that I would like.  He put pictures in it and everything.  My kids love it.  Cumorah and Rivers really like to look at the pictures of Mommy and Daddy and open and close it over and over and over again.  Sidon likes to eat it, which led to a change in pictures since the first ones were completely slobberfied.  It's not an airtight seal when closed.  I've especially liked to wear it while Brian has been gone because it makes me feel like he's close.  Sort of.  Because I'm a hopeless romantic.  I mentioned that already.  


I'm pretty sure the paragraph changed quite a bit, but at least it has the same story of our fifth anniversary in it and that is the important part.

random thoughts on romance

 

Still Holding Hands.

Brian gave me this card for our fourth anniversary.  It's one of my very favorite cards I have ever received.  

Many, many months ago I happened to have read several different blog posts written by various friends and acquaintances on the subject of their husbands.  They were all very complimentary, almost to the point of nausea-inducing.  And they made me think, kind of reflect I suppose, on my own husband and marriage.  I love my husband immensely.  I really do.  I have loved him a ridiculously silly amount since we began dating and that love has grown and deepened.  And I expect, as this is still only the beginning, that it will continue to, but reading those blog posts made me wonder, are your husbands and marriages as romantic and perfect as all that, for real?  Around that time I asked my husband as we were driving in the car somewhere...

"Am I your best friend?"

"Ummmm, (I could tell he was trying to figure out what the right answer was and that he was trying not to laugh at me too hard), uhhhh, yeah, I guess, I don't know who else would be."

"Really? Truly?"

"Oh, wait.  No.  Gabe's my best friend."

"Oh, yes.  I wasn't thinking of him.  Of course, that makes sense."

This is Gabe and Brian flying a remote controlled bird at my parents' place five years ago last month.  He is a good friend of ours from our dating and courtship years.  In fact, he drove with Brian to Monterey on my twenty-seventh birthday to find me on the beach while I was watching the 4th of July fireworks.  On the way he helped Brian to compose a poem to recite to me to make his proposal of marriage a little more memorable.  It went something like this...

The sky is blue, a lake is blue, your eyes are blue, I really want to marry you.

I will forever be grateful for Gabe's influence in our early years, so he can be Brian's best friend.  That is just fine with me.






While making plans for me to fly out to Michigan recently, Brian mentioned how he had to clean the apartment he was currently staying in for the rotation he was doing before he left to drive with me to the southwest corner of Michigan.  He suggested that I might be able to help him.  At which point in the conversation I was quiet for a moment and then replied, "Let me see if I understand this correctly, You are flying your wife halfway across the country so that she can clean your apartment for you because goodness knows she just doesn't get to do enough of that at home with your THREE small children.  You, Mr. Taylor, can clean your own *#$@%^$$#^&%& #%^%#@**! apartment."  OK, so in reality there weren't any expletives, but he laughed his my-wife-cracks-me-up-but-she-also-makes-me-a-little-nervous laugh and he cleaned his own apartment.


While on that same trip, but in Ohio instead of Michigan, we went out to dinner.  We called ahead, made a reservation and still ended up waiting for a very long time when we got there.  I was hungry.  Sidon was restless.  I got a little grumpy.  Brian was smiling and being nice like usual.  He looked at me and said, "Just stop.  Don't be rude, honey."

To which I replied with simply a smile.


He just shook his head and continued, "Sheesh, sometimes I'm embarrassed to be with you when you're like this."

I laughed, "I'm not being rude.  I haven't even said anything."

"You don't have to say anything.  Your eyes just burn holes through people."

They did give us free dessert that was quite delicious, and I never did say anything and I never did reduce anyone to a pile of ashes with my laser beam eyes.  And I forgive my husband for being embarrassed of me.



Brian and I are two very different people with very real imperfections and idiosyncrasies.  In fact, at some point as we were driving from Michigan to Ohio I ended up exclaiming in mild frustration, "We don't really make a very good team!  We really just don't.  We don't communicate well, we don't understand each other, we don't work well together and we have completely different ideas about what should happen and how it should happen."  Brian was laughing at me, yet again, and he tried to appease me by saying something about how we did make a good team when it comes to the really important things in life.  And I suppose that's true.  We have made three really cute babies together and we actually do agree on most things when it comes to raising those babies and we also are very united when it comes to our faith.






My husband sometimes drives me crazy.  And even though I'm sure I have some redeeming qualities, my husband is often bombarded with my everlasting horrific perfected brattiness.  That's the truth.  But we still love each other.  He's tall, dark, and handsome.  And when he's particularly annoyed with me he'll tell me that I'm beautiful (I think it makes him feel better).  And he has a bag for his scriptures made out of an oatmeal box and duct tape.  It's one of the reasons why I married him. 

Brian has a gift when it comes to working with people.  Everyone loves him.  He's charming and charismatic and nice and very, very convincing.  He's good at sales.  That's another reason why I married him (that he works well with people, not the good at sales part).  The curse of his life, for here and everafter, is that the one person who he has the hardest time convincing of anything is his wife.  Poor Brian.  I'm super proud of him.  He's done really well these past almost four years of medical school.  I am glad I'm his wife.

Today was his birthday.  He's well into his thirties now.  Sooo much older than me.  And I didn't get him a present.  But if he's nice to me I'll make him an ice cream cake and give him a kiss when he gets home next week.  Because he's actually coming home next week.  And he's not scheduled to leave again.

another one

This is my baby.

He's pretty much perfect.

So cute.

So mellow and easy going.

 So happy all the time.

 If he is hurt or sad he's even more cute and sweet.

Even if he's just whiny or fussy, he's still so cute...













that his mommy gives him whatever he wants.

He loves his mommy very much.  The mostest.

In fact,













now I get kisses.

Today was his first birthday.  But we're having his party tomorrow.  He gets to eat his first cupcake.  (I'm kind of a sweet-nazi when it comes to the babies even if I have been lax about the cookies at Great G&G's)











Huh?

Cupcake?!?

Da?  Da?

You'll never believe what that lady you left me with said.  She says I can have a cupcake.  Cake, Da, can you believe it?

some people look for pictures in the clouds

Rivers sees pictures elsewhere...let's just say I haven't posted about this particular peculiarity of my beautiful little daughter because it's kind of strange and awkward to relate.  But I just can't not record this, especially after the last time.

If you've ever dealt with potty training or newly potty trained children before then you might have heard a toddler so proudly counting, "Look, one, two, poops!"   Or maybe they comment on the size of their poo.  Or maybe even, "Look, a mommy and a baby poop."  Or something similar.  You get the idea.  Rivers is a little different.  At first I didn't think much of it, I didn't really pay attention.  But then I began to notice that she was absolutely spot on, and it was rather hilarious.  When I come back to the potty in answer to her calls for assistance she sometimes declares to me what kind of poop she made.  As in, "It's a bunny."  Sure enough, it does look kind of like a bunny  "It's a frog."  You are so right, Rivers, it looks like a frog.   My all time favorite was, "Look Mommy, it's a baby seahorse poop."  And you know what?  That little tiny poo in the toilet looked just like a baby seahorse, curly little tail and all.  I'm sorry, you don't have to read this you know.  The list goes on, carrot poops, duck poops...


So the other day, she tells me that her latest deposit is a dragon poop.  I was rushed and only took a quick glance as I was doing my motherly duties and thought, "Whatever, it looks like poo to me."  But for whatever reason, Rivers repeated herself and pointed very deliberately, "See, mommy."  So I looked again.  And she was absolutely, completely right.  She continued, "See his wing? and mouth?"
It was a dragon poop, and not just any dragon.  It was a gronckle.   The perfect side view of a gronckle.  And yes, I did see the wing and the mouth.

And how does my two-year-old know what a gronckle looks like?  Well, I made the mistake of thinking (without even previewing) that How to Train Your Dragon maybe wouldn't be quite so scary to my super scaredy-cat little girls and we went next door to watch it with our older cousins who had seen it in the theaters.  My girls were leaning waaaaay back in their seats.  I invited them to come sit with me and a few minutes later I suggested we go home and watch a different movie.  They jumped on that idea.  So we watched Peter Pan and fast forwarded all of the scary parts, (ie. pirate parts, indian parts, etc.).  It didn't take very long to watch.  The next day they begged to see the dragon movie and promised they would be brave.  I said no way.  I did tell them that the dragons really were nice dragons though, and that the people learn to ride them.  They didn't have nightmares that I noticed.  So I don't think I've permanently damaged them.

pook-a-boo

At our house, it's not peek-a-boo.  It's pook-a-boo.  'pook' rhymes with 'book'. 

Not sure why, it's just one of those things.  Thought I'd like to remember.  The girls hid behind their kitchen this evening and pook-a-booed Sidon and I.

halloween weekend

 Halloween this year was just that, a whole weekend.

On Friday we went to trunk'or'treat at the church.  The girls were in awe of all the commotion and strangeness.  Last year the girls only went trick'or'treating to a very few neighbor's houses.  They did enjoy the whole candy factor and ate it unchecked for a little while.  Rivers even chewed through an unopened package of fundip like a little rodent.  It was easy to keep track of the girls in all the darkness and crowdedness because they were literally little puffballs.



On Saturday we went on the neighborhood hayride with our cousins and the Larsen family.  We rode on one of two decorated and lit up trailers being pulled by trucks through the neighborhood.  We're kind of in the country here so the houses are not right next to each other.  It was super fun.  The girls loved it.  We (the Taylor family) only went on half the ride.  Grandmommy dropped us off at the starting house and then we got off at our driveway.  It was perfect.  Thank you to Tami for helping me herd my little fairies around and up and down from the trailer.  The girls got LOTS more GOOD candy (several of the houses hand out specially packed treat bags) and we had a little candy eating party on the floor together when we got back home.  Even Sidon thought it was exciting with his bag of animal crackers and all the little crinkly packages to throw around.







On Sunday after church we got dressed in our costumes one more time, so that I could finally actually take pictures.  They were a tiny bit soiled with random candy drool dribbles and Sidon had to wear a different pair of pants due to the mashed in animal cracker paste, but it all worked out.  We were able to trick-or-treat at one more door, Great Grandma and Grandpa Hulbert's.  I'm so grateful we've been able to live out here for many reasons, and one of those reasons is that we get to be near not only grandparents but great grandparents.  I have fond, albeit limited, memories of my Nana and Granddad and that fascinating creature that was my Great Grandma Christensen.  I hope that at least some of my children will have memories of their Great Grandparents as well.  My babies love to go visit, dance around and amuse their great grandparents for about 2.3 minutes and, most importantly, get a cookie.  The same type of cookie (Mother's oatmeal cookies) that have been in that same jar for as long as I can remember.

About the costumes...I made the fairy tutus with a stash of tulle I already had.  The wings are just wings from our costume box (the blue ones are from Disneyland when Brian and I went on a family reunion trip with his family during the short month for which we were engaged, they used to light up).  The other random accessories were designed by grandmommy with the help of my input and requests.  Cumorah has some super special "water drops" (chandelier prisms) on her costume.  I cut Sidon's beard from white fleecy material about 10 minutes before we left for trunk'or'treat.  It just ties around his neck.  And grandmommy made his hat around the same time after I told her what I wanted because it was obvious that my time was running out.  She just cut a cirlce and then a slit and then glued it at the appropriate spot.  We were winging it.  The blue wand was lent to us by cousin Pearl because we only have pink.  Rivers too-big sparkly silver shoes were hand-me-downs from our friend Hannah from church.  Cumorah's too-big sparkly silver shoes were actually brand-new from Target so that she could match her sister.  Lucky girl.  They wear them practically every day.  And just so you're sure to know...

Cumorah is a water fairy and Rivers is a flower fairy.  It's important.  Like Silvermist and Rosetta.  You know?  We like the Tinkerbell movies around here.  But I wouldn't dress Sidon up as Terrence.  Brian wouldn't like that.  Sidon is a gnome.  Anybody ever seen the Gnome-Mobile?  That was a random thought.  I remember seeing it as a kid.  I think I want to find it and watch it again.

 The garden gnome...

eats rocks and dirties his beard,

plays with sticks,

and crawls away a lot.

Marching and singing fairies.

Silly fairies.

Balancing fairies.

Flying fairy.

Moody fairy.

Cute knees fairy.

Racing fairy.

Jumping fairy.

I'm not sure what they're doing.

Standing fairy.

The gnome steals the fairy wand.  He LOVES fairy wands.

Helpful fairy.

Running fairies.

The water fairy found water.  She's happy.  Mommy's nervous.

Knocking fairies.

Great Grandpa and the fairies.

Looking at the wild turkeys.  There's a lot of them.  They're big.

Dance of the cookies.

Forget the dance, the gnome is serious about eating the cookie.

More running fairies.  The little fairy has to do EVERYTHING the not-as-little fairy does.

Hi Daddy.  We love you, and we're letting Mommy take pictures of us just for you.

Fairy bottom.

Sitting fairies.

Hugging fairies.

Um, Mom....

We are so done.