Why are You Wearing Your Pajamas? They're Not Pajamas! It's My Warm-Up Suit. Why Do You Need Warming Up For? For Doing Stuff. What Kind of Stuff? Super-Cool Stuff You Wouldn't Understand. Like Sleeping?

My beautiful daughter is almost 4 years old. She loves to talk. She LOVES to talk. She also talks quite loudly. She is very talented at projecting her voice. This is great for plays, not so great for grocery shopping. For instance:

There is an employee at the supermarket using a sticker gun to put "organic" stickers on each individual banana.
Ash: "Hey! What is that guy doing? Is he doing stickers?"  Of course this loud enough that the guy (and half the store) can hear. Everyone is polite the guy smiles, I explain what he is doing.

Two minutes later there is an employee at the supermarket unloading produce and stacking the empty boxes in a very tall stack.
Ash: "Hey! That guy is making a tower! He is making it too tall! It will fall and make a big giant mess!" The guy laughs and nods at Ash.

 We get in line at the checkout counter. The woman that gets in line behind us is wearing eyepatch. I see it at the very same time Ash sees it. I do not have time to avoid it. Oh Noes.
Ash: "Mommy! That woman is a pirate!"
The woman blushes and apologizes for looking strange.
"No!" I say. "She thinks it's awesome. Huh, Ash? You want an eyepatch, too?"
"Yeah!" Ash shouts. "I want one like her."
Phew!

But the best one came later, when we were over at our neighbors house. Our neighbor was holding Alexa, when Alexa started to fuss.
Neighbor: "Are you hungry? You want some food?"
Ash "No! She only eats Breastmilk! You need a boob!"
The comeback was just as good:
Neighbor: "You know, when I was twelve years old that would've made me cry."

I've Got Sand in Places I Didn't Even Know I Had

Since we live half an hour from the beach, you would think we would frequent it much more than we actually do. After several beach trips, I find myself thinking that I am not a big beach person. I like it once I am there, but driving out there, finding a parking space, and then hauling thirty pounds of beach chairs, beach umbrellas, towels, sand toys, a picnic basket, boogie boards and water bottles, not to mention a small child, is exhausting.

Our ward does a weekly beach day. Not wanting to brave the beach with two children and no husband, I did not attend. Suddenly seized by an adventurous spirit, I decided we would go this week. I tried to only pack priority stuff. We ate lunch right before we went. We went early to find a parking space.

Alas, I got so lost, so by the time we found the right beach, we were ten minutes late. I couldn't find a good parking space and had to park down the street. I put the baby in the sling, then lugged everything to the beach while trying to encourage mt preschooler to walk at something faster than a snail's pace.

We made it! Out of breath, I dumped all the stuff, then set up our little camp. The trek had left Ash thirsty. I happily produced her spill-proof children water bottle from my bag and handed it over. She took one sip, then accidentally dropped it in the sand, covering the mouthpiece. I hadn't brought more water. She was still thirsty. She started to cry.

This is why I'm not a beach person.

Dentist? You Said We Were Going Dirt Biking Through the Cemetery.

Here is a random fact about me: I have never lost a tooth. I had a loose tooth once, but the dentist pulled it out before it fell out. He was pulling a few other teeth and decided to throw that one in for free. That's how all my baby teeth came out: Being pulled by the dentist. This was done in an attempt to give me straight teeth. Apparently my mouth was way too small, and the orthodontic work needed to start before I had permanent teeth.

So I don't suppose it comes as a shock that I'm not a big fan of the dentist. Not that I've had a really bad experience or anything, just that I feel I've already spent way too much time in a dentist chair. My mother had to drag me to the dentist as a teenager. The last time she did that was when I was seventeen years old. I have not been back since. 

Last week we finally got dental insurance. During a fit of adulthood I actually made an appointment for myself. I was secretly hoping that my teeth would be too rotten to salvage so they would give me fake teeth which would mean no more dentist trips ever. 

Alas, no. My teeth are awesome. Besides the fact that the hygienist nearly fainted when I told her it had been ten  years since my last cleaning, things went smoothly. I have one new cavity.  Thank you, parents for giving me awesome genetics for teeth. Sadly, Drek's genetic's for teeth trumped mine with Ash. I fear she has inherited his terrible teeth, and my terrible mouth. We might just have to move straight to the fake teeth for her. 

How Did Your Brain Even Learn Human Speech? I'm Just so Curious

I went into an unfamiliar superstore to do my grocery shopping. After spending way too long searching for each food item in the expansive layout I still needed to find the molasses. It wasn't down the baking aisle, or next to the honey or the syrups. Not sure where else it would be I flagged down an employee and asked him. 

"Where is your molasses?" 

"Molasses?" 

"Yes." 

"Uh..." he looked around him, then back at me. "Is that like a drink?" 

I was startled. I had been prepared for him not knowing where it was, but not knowing what it is?! I laughed, shook my head and said I would just keep looking. A few aisles over I flagged down another worker and repeated my question. 

"Molasses?" 

"Yes." 

"I don't know. What is it?" 

"Um...processed Sorghum?" Which of course was very unhelpful. "It's a dark, sweet syrup used in baking." I quickly added. 

"Oh! Try the baking aisle!" 

Yes. Thank you. Very helpful. 

I never did find it.  Is molasses really that uncommon of an ingredient? Or is it the fact that it is an ingredient and not an end product that makes it so unknown? 

It's About to Get Very Cold In Here

I do not like to be cold. I order my water without ice. I'd rather have tap water than refrigerator water. I don't like Popsicles. I can only eat small amounts of ice cream.

I love leaving the car in the sun, and then getting in after the heat has been trapped inside; especially when I've been inside an air conditioned building. I can feel the cold being pulled from my skin. I love that feeling.

So it's not really a surprise that our house has not had air conditioning. I like the house being in the lower eighties. However, I do feel bad when we have guests over for dinner or games and everyone is sweating despite the windows being open and the fan running. I feel even worse when we have guests sleep over, and a tiny bedroom fan does little to keep them cool during the summer months, especially when they have to close the window at three in the morning because of those horrible roosters.

After a heat wave that send Sunland into record high temperatures, Drek decided it was time to get a repair guy out to see if he could fix the air conditioning unit. The guy was so overbooked it took him two weeks to finally come over, but he did, and within an hour he had our surprisingly efficient air conditioner up and running. Drek was at work at the the time, so I sent him a text:

Good News! The air conditioner works!
Bad News: I'm cold. Can I turn it off now?

At least we'll have it for guests.

Who's Flying This Thing? Oh, Right. That Would Be Me.

In May I flew back to Hometown. We flew out of a tiny airport, which has the benefit of really short security lines, and no awful Backscatter machines.

I carried Alexa in a sling. This particular sling doesn't press her to my body, but keeps her more open so I tucked a blanket in around her body to keep her warm and protected. Using the sling kept my hands free to deal with Ash, and all the stuff you have to do to get through the security line.

First, we had to show our ID and tickets. While we were doing this, a man who was ahead of us, and already passed that checkpoint and in the process of taking off his shoes and preparing to go through the metal detector, was told he couldn't take his water bottle. Instead of throwing it away, he stopped, opened the bottle and chugged it. This wasn't a problem, as there was no one else behind him waiting to go through. Actually, besides all the many guards milling about, Waterbottle guy and my group were the only ones around. The problem came after he was done; he looked around confused, then came back and asked the guard checking our IDs if he knew where he could recycle his bottle. The guard was startled, not used to being approached from the back.

"What?"
"I have a bottle. Where do you recycle?"
"I don't know, man."
"The bottle. I need a recycle can. Is there one out there?"
"If you go our you'll have to come back through security again."
"I need to recycle my bottle."
"Ok, man, knock yourself out.

So he pushed passed us in search of a place to recycle his bottle. The guard finished with us and I took Ash's hand to guide her to the conveyor belt. While I was putting all metal things into the bins, taking off my shoes and balancing the baby in the sling, WaterBottle guy came back, and plopped he bins down right in front of ours on the conveyor belt. H then just sort of stood there, looking back toward the first guard. I hesitated, not sure what to do. The X-ray guards were waiting for someone to put there stuff through, and the metal detector guards were waiting for someone to walk through, but I could't get around this man, and he didn't appear to have any intentions of moving. After a few seconds of looking at guards, looking at the man, and then looking at my bins, then back at the man, he looked at me in and in in a surprised voice said

"Oh! Did I cut in front of you?" I smiled but before I could answer he added:   "I'm sorry! I thought you worked here."

It was one of those moments when you open your mouth, and then close it again, then open it again, then close it again. What could I say to that? I had a baby in a sling, a three-year old on one hand. I'm barefoot and juggling a carry-on, a diaper bag and the bins. So I said nothing while he kindly moved his bins to the other (empty) conveyor belt so I could move through security.

On the other side of the metal detector (which I did NOT set off, by the way) a female guard pulled me aside to get a closer look at the sling. Alexa was clearly visible, but I'm she wanted to make sure I wasn't hiding anything else in there. She poked the blanket with a gloved hand.

"What's up with the blanket?" she asked in a hostile tone.
I was taken aback. "What's up with your face?" I almost replied, but luckily my self-control kicked in and I kept my mouth shut. I simply removed the blanket to show her that it was covering the body of a tiny newborn, not a metal exploding device.
She glared at the sling, then at the blanket. "You should have put that thing through the X-ray." She snapped, then turned around and walked off. I wasn't sure what she meant by "thing." The blanket? The sling? The baby? In all three cases, she was wrong, and in any case, she was gone, so I shrugged, tucked the blanket back in, and tried to balance the Alexa and Ash while putting on my shoes.

In the meantime, WaterBottle guy made it through the other metal detector. He came and stood next to me, doing nothing, just looking around. A woman, apparently the travel companion of WaterBottle guy, Stood next to the other conveyor belt.
"Your stuff is over here." She called to WaterBottle guy, pointing to his bags and bins waiting on the conveyor belt.
He didn't move.  I finished repacking all my stuff. He was still standing next to me.
"Hey! Your bags are right here!" The woman called again.
He didn't show any sign of hearing her, so, despite the risk of him thinking I really do work there,  I smiled and pointed to the his stuff. He looked in the direction I was pointing and made a nod. I walked off to find my gate.

Later, I saw him get on the same plane I was on. It's too bad our seats weren't together, but then, he may have been confused as to why I wasn't flying the aircraft.

I Decided to Sleep in the Car so My Snoring Wouldn't Bother You, and I Left a Tape Recording of My Snoring so You Wouldn't Know I was Gone

My baby is three months old today.

When I had Ash I didn't realize I would have to recover. I didn't realize babies took up SO MUCH time. I tried to jump right back into life. For the most part I did, although it resulted in a really, really long recovery time. The first three months were physically and mentally exhausting because I never gave myself any down time.

With this baby; I wanted things to be different. I pictured staying in bed for the first month, doing nothing but feeding and caring for the baby. I pictured slowly getting back into life, only leaving the house after the three month mark.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha.

That just doesn't happen if you don't have help. No matter how much you WANT to stay in bed, if you are the only one watching a three-year-old, you have to get up. So you have a kidney infection that turned into a life threatening antibiotic resistant kidney infection that makes you writhe in agony? Too bad. You still have a three-year-old, and no one else to help out. Life marches on and so must you, no matter how much you love the newborn and are desperate to soak up every single minute enjoying your baby while she is still small.

And so we jumped back into the swing of things about two months, three weeks and four days ago. Some of that jumping was voluntary, so was be being thrown in kicking and screaming in protest.

But, here we are at three months, so now there is no reason why life can't get back to normal. I'm fully recovered from the birth (finally) and the stuff I'm taking for my infection seems to be working; I'm only in pain if I miss a dose. It will take a while for the infection to clear out, but I'm sure it will be a full recovery.

So I guess I should start posting on my blog again. I do have some great stories. Stay tuned!

Recovery was moving along. Things were healing and getting better. Until suddenly I had all the misery of a UTI with the bonus of excruciating back pain.

After spending the night not sleeping, even though for the first night my newborn was sleeping, we went to the E.R. Drek waited in the waiting room while I went it. After a simple test and some quick questions it was declared a massive kidney infection and I was given a shot of antibiotics and a prescription of more antibiotics. 

I went out and found Drek. We got into the car. Before he even turned on the engine I blurted out "they gave me a shot" and burst into tears. I sobbed all the way to the pharmacy, the whole time drek was inside getting it filled, and all the way home. 

Not so much because of the shot (although for a few minutes the injection site hurt more than the kidney pain) but more because of lack of sleep and hormones and such. Also I was still in excruciating pain. 

But a three hour nap and one pill later I felt much better. And we're back to recovering nicely. 

Yesterday was my birthday. It was very mellow; a few texts, a few phone calls. I took a nap. I took a shower. Drek got me a non ticking wall clock (hooray!) and made me the most wonderful trifle from scratch. He also stayed home from work all day just to be with me.

Well, ok maybe not just me. A lot of it might have to do with the best birthday present that arrived two days before: our little baby was finally born.

Everyone is doing well. Life is wonderful.

Happy Easter (a day late)!

Yesterday we celebrated by getting up super early to go to the Annual Easter Sun Run Marathon! I signed up to do it last year, not realizing the condition I would be in when the race actually came around. But, still no baby, so I decided to go ahead and do it!

It was cold:

Some people wore bunny ears (I assume they handed these out last year?) but I didn't get the memo. 

Still, by the time race started I was ready to go! 

And GO! 

The amazing thing is not that I actually finished, but that I actually ran the whole time. The last few miles I was DYING. Mostly at that point I was too out of it to do anything but keep going. I had been running with a few very peppy people for the last few miles, and at this point they started saying things like "We're almost done!" and then the thing that really caught my attention: "Come on guys, if we push it we will qualify!"

Yeah, so this marathon was a Boston Marathon qualifier. At that point they really took off, leaving me in the dust, but it was motivation enough to keep going. And going. And going. I crossed the finish line.  AND I ACTUALLY QUALIFIED (barely). Sadly, we won't be buying the tickets for the flight to the Boston Marathon in two weeks because hopefully I will have a newborn by then.

EDIT on April 2nd:

Yesterday morning Drek and I walked the quarter of a mile to find a road with an actual gutter. We picked a spot 10 yards long for me to "run" while Drek took pictures. He made me do it three times. I was DYING. Yes, there are amazing people who run marathons while pregnant, but let's face it, I don't even exercise while pregnant.

While at the peak of my training, I could not run a half marathon in the Boston Marathon qualifying time. At 41 weeks pregnant I'm doing good if I'm on my feet long enough to get dressed and brush my hair.

so, APRIL FOOLS!

Go to My Brethren, and Say Unto Them, I Ascend Unto My Father, and Your Father; and to My God, and Your God

I love Easter. Growing up, Easter was always a big deal in my family. To me, Easter means coloring dozens of Easter eggs, having a huge Easter egg hunt (for real eggs, none of that plastic filled with sugar nonsense)  and brunch with neighbors, friends and family on Easter Saturday, and an Easter basket with new church clothes (and hopefully a chocolate bunny!) on Easter Sunday.

 I want that for my family, but I also want more. I want my kids to REALLY understand the reason we celebrate Easter. So, In an effort to make Easter more about Christ, Ash and I have come up with a plan to do an Easter activity every day starting the Sunday before Easter (Palm Sunday). 

Palm Sunday

We went to church! When the sacrament came around, I briefly explained the story of Easter. 

Watch the Lord's Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem

This is a fantastic Sacrament talk written about the use of palm leaves. It was great for me to read, and repeated a few simple concepts while doing this craft for the donkey, and simply cutting and slicing green (and purple, because it's Ash's favorite color. And why not? Purple is a royal color!) construction paper into palm leaves and then gluing them onto the paper.

Result:

Monday

For FHE we colored Easter Eggs! It's good family time. 

Tuesday

Watch Jesus is Laid in a Tomb and Jesus is Resurrected

We printed out and colored this coloring page. We talked about Christ being resurrected  and how that made Mary happy, and how Christ dies and was resurrected for Mary, and also for Ash, and also for me. 

Wednesday

This is about as fancy as I get with crafts. First, we colored and cut out the tomb and stone from the image below. 

Then, inspired by this craft,  we cut a paper plate in half, stapled the two halves together, and pasted the tomb onto the paper plate. We then cut out the door of the tomb and glued He is Risen by Del Parson  inside. 

Result: 

All the while we talked about the Resurrection, and how Jesus dies and was resurrected so when we die, we can be resurrected. 

Maundry (Holy) Thursday

Watch the movie The Last Supper

Color and cut out the images below, the whole time talking about Jesus's Last Supper and the sacrament. 

Good Friday

Today we decided to try watercolors! We painted the images below, talking about the story or the atonement, the crucifixion, and the Resurrection. We then cut them out and glued them on Popsicle sticks!

Result: 

We also made Hot Cross Buns. They were cooked too long, so they turned out harder and crispy on the bottom, but they had such great potential! 

Easter Saturday

Easter Egg hunt and Easter Brunch! 

Easter Sunday

Go to church! In the March 2008 Friend, on page 30, is the Story of Christ. Print out on cardstock and fit together with a metal band. Give to Ash right before church. Read it during Sacrament meeting and look at the pictures during the Sacrament. 

This morning I got a text from a number I didn't recognize. It said: "I'm on my way"

I didn't remember setting up anything with anyone for today, and I didn't have anything on my calender.

I'm going to say that text was from the baby.

You're Wasting Your Time, Man. If You Pick the Lock on a Halliburton, I'll Put You on My Back and Fly us to L.A. You Better Find Yourself a Runway, Daddy, 'Cause there Ain't a Lock I Can't Pick

Guys, I've been so good lately! I haven't lost my keys in over a year! I haven't lost my credit card in over four years! I haven't lost my purse, and I've even managed to hang on to my phone!  I lost Drek's keys for a few days, but not mine, so it doesn't count!

And so every streak must end.

First, let me just say that Ash has really been on a power struggle lately. She will argue with everything I say, no matter what. I've tried to teach her to say "Yes, Mama." whenever I tell her to do something, instead of arguing, but it's not working to well. The other day she offered me one of her grapes and I said "No, thank you." and she said "No! You say 'Yes, Ash!'" Sigh. I've been having a hard time figuring out where the line is between "pick your battles" and "be consistent."

Ok, enough excuses. On to the story:

Ash and I went to the post office. We needed to wait in line to mail a package, and then ring the little buzzer to pick up a package. The former usually takes a while, the latter takes around a minute.

So we got out of the car, struggled to take the boxes inside, and waited in line. It was our turn and Ash was tired of waiting  so I gave her my phone. She has a few Sesame Street episodes on the phone so she happily watched those while I finished up with the clerk. Upon finishing, I realized I didn't have my little slip to pick up the package, so we went back out to the car and I dug around in the front seat and emptied out my purse until I found it. During that time, Ash (who was absorbed in her show) had climbed from the front seat to the back seat, and buckled herself into her car seat (because she is just that amazing). After I found the paper, I realized what she had done, and told her we actually weren't ready to leave and had to go back in to the post office. She argued. Of course, she argued. She told me she would wait in the car.

I think I've had Ash wait in the car once. Actually, now that I think about it, twice: once when she was a baby, asleep, and I was dropping off dinner to someone, and then once a few months ago when I needed to run inside the post office and drop of a package in the package drop. Both took less than two minutes. I really don't like having her wait in the car because I am afraid with our tinted windows, someone will steal the car without realizing there is a child in the backseat.

But I was tired. I'm very pregnant and walking around the car to unbuckle her (she can buckle herself in but can't get herself out) and argue with her for a less than two minute errand didn't seem worth it. It was a nice cool day, so against my better judgement I locked the doors and ran inside, leaving Ash in the car to watch her show.

You see where this story is going.

I came back out, around a minute later, and realized when I emptied out my purse, I had emptied out my keys. My car keys were locked in the car. Along with my daughter. And my cell phone.  Worst. Parent. Ever.

So I tap on the back window to get Ash's attention and explain she needs to unlock the door. She tries reaching, but of course can't reach the button from her seat. I tell she needs to unbuckle herself from her car seat. She sets the phone down and follows my directions for about a minute, until she announces "No, I don't want to. I want to watch my show." She picks the phone back up and ignores me.

Well, at least she isn't panicking, unlike me.

I go back inside the post office and ask to borrow someones cell phone. I call Drek at work and tell him what I have done and where I am. He doesn't have the car, but says he will borrow one and come rescue us.

I go back out to the car, find two bobby pins on the ground and spend the next twenty minutes alternating between trying to pick the lock on the trunck, and trying to convince Ash to get out of her car seat. I am unsuccessful at both attempts.

Finally Drek shows up. He seems surprised at how calm I am, and even more surprised that Ash isn't screaming and crying from neglect. He unlocks the door, opens it, and Ash looks up and blinks at him.

"Oh! Hi, Daddy! Do you want to watch this show with me?" The inside of the car is a comfortable temperature and she didn't appear to be suffering from malnutrition or dehydration.

Lesson learned: it doesn't matter how secure your car is against thieves if you can't get in either. Just avoid the whole thing and don't leave your kids in the car. Especially if you have a history of losing things and very especially if you have pregnancy brain.

I Suppose in the End, the Whole of Life Becomes an Act of Letting Go

Happy Pi Day!

For obvious reasons, I didn't have a party this year. Although we did have shepherd's pie for dinner with fresh blueberry pie for dessert.

Still no baby. We were hoping it would come today. If he was a boy, we would name him Percival Ichabod (First name after the Scarlet Pimpernel; can't get a better hero than that) and he would go by his initials. And for his birth announcement it would say: Introducing the Life of Pi. And every year on his birthday we would celebrate Pi's day.

Sigh. These children. They just never cooperate.

Breastfeeding in Public

The really worried over is breastfeeding thing.  I couldn't breastfeed my first, but I am determined to breastfeed this next one (whenever it decides to show up!) Breastfeeding this one will mean the opportunity to breastfeed in public. (Breastfeeding in public means not using a cover or a blanket when you breastfeed in a public area or in front of other people. It can be very discreet, but not hidden). I feel that breastfeeding in public is a very personal choice, and there isn't a right or wrong decision. If given the choice, I will choose to breastfeed in public. And this is why:

Back in the 80's, in a zoo in Ohio, a female gorilla born and raised in captivity gave birth. That gorilla had never seen another mother gorilla feed a baby gorilla. Her instincts told her she should, but she had no idea how. Unable to feed it, she killed it. A while later, this same gorilla became pregnant again. The zoo keepers, not wanting this newborn to be killed, decided to try something new.  They called the local La Leche League and asked for volunteers. Those volunteers came to the zoo, sat on one side of a glass wall, and breastfed their baby in full view of the female gorilla who watched from the other side of the glass wall. This was done throughout the gorilla's pregnancy. When the baby gorilla was born, the female gorilla could do what she was unable to do with the last baby: breastfeed it.  Monkey see, monkey do.

I feel a lot like that gorilla. Before my baby was born I never saw a woman breastfeeding. I knew breastfeeding was important to me. I knew I wanted to breastfeed my baby. Yet, when my baby was born, I couldn't. I utterly failed at breastfeeding. How could I have been expected to succeed when I had never seen it done?

For thousands of years, women breastfed their children. It was, and still is, the natural thing to do. Historically, breastfeeding was never an issue of modesty. In certain cultures walking around without a shirt was completely unacceptable, but in those cultures, having one breast exposed to a suckling child was normal. That's how babies ate. There was nothing immodest about it. That holds true for the Mormon pioneers. Exposing your ankle was immodest but exposing a breast to feed a baby? No one thought anything of it! They believed very strongly in modesty, but breastfeeding your child in full view of other adult males simply wasn't an modesty issue. It was normal! LDS Women openly breastfed in sacrament meeting and while crossing the plains.

Why? Why didn't they think that exposing a secondary sexual organ has anything to do with modesty? Because it's just that: a secondary sexual organ, just like a mouth. You eat with your mouth in full view of others and don't think anything about it being modest or immodest, because it's not a modesty issue. Babies eat with a breast (so to speak). It's the same thing.

The more you read the scriptures the more you get the idea that God thinks a breastfeeding is a beautiful, wonderful, GOOD sight.

"Even by the God of thy father, who shall help thee; and by the Almighty, who shall bless thee with blessings of heaven above, blessings of the deep that lieth under, blessings of the breasts, and of the womb." (Genesis 49:25)

"O that thou wert as my brother, that sucked the breasts of my mother! when I should find thee without, I would kiss thee; yea, I should not be despised." (Song of Solomon 8:1)

Rejoice ye with Jerusalem, and be glad with her, all ye that love her: rejoice for joy with her, all ye that mourn for her:
That ye may suck, and be satisfied with the breasts of her consolations; that ye may milk out, and be delighted with the abundance of her glory.
For thus saith the Lord, Behold, I will extend peace to her alike a river, and the glory of the Gentiles like a flowing stream: then shall ye suck, ye shall be borne upon her sides, and be dandled upon her knees.
As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you; and ye shall be comforted in Jerusalem. (Isaiah 66:10-13)

Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee. (Isaiah 49:15)

Clearly, God does NOT think breastfeeding is immodest.

Early LDS men and women picked up on that language and held the image of breastfeeding in high regard, as we can see in LDS works of art which are prominently displayed at Seagull Monument in Salt Lake City; in a wall mural in the Cardston, Alberta temple; and even in the Book of Mormon Reader (That image is on Page 31 [Enos 1:11-12] if you want to look it up yourself!).

So what happened? Formula has been around since the late 1800's, but  it was generally considered  inferior to breastmilk. In the 40's and 50's science was the hero of the modern world. In 1951 scientists announced that formula was the better than breast milk. If you wanted the best for your child, you gave them formula, not breast milk. And who wouldn't want the best for your child? Every parent wanted to do the best thing, and most parents thought the best thing was formula. But formula was expensive, and not every mother could afford it. Suddenly, a mother could not breastfeed her child in front of other, because that would be admitting that she wasn't feeding the baby formula; she wasn't "giving her baby the best". Breastfeeding became a status of low income, or of the uneducated. It was hidden away in back bedrooms where the ashamed mothers could feed their babies without the disapproving looks of society.

And then, years later, scientists realized, "Hey, wait a minute. Formula is NOT better than breast milk. It's not even the same as breast milk. Formula is worse that breast milk. Breastfeeding is actually way better. For a lot of reasons. Sorry about that." But the damage was already done. Breastfeeding was no longer the norm and when mothers began to once again nurse in public, suddenly there was an issue of modesty. But  modesty was never the reason women breastfed in private.

Still, seeing a women breastfeed had become a rare sight, and seeing an exposed breast was no longer normal. In our modern society breastfeeding is once again becoming normal, but with nursing covers or with blankets. Especially in church, it a rare sight to see an exposed breast nourishing an infant. That makes it immodest in society's view, but not in God's. How do we change that? How do we make breastfeeding in public normal again? How do we overcome that bias of immodestly? We breastfeed in public. It wasn't so long ago that women wearing pants was considered immodest by society. How did that change? Women wore pants. Simple.

Why is that important to me? Why do I want to make breastfeeding in public accepted, encouraged, and considered normal?

Women need to see other women breastfeeding. Just like that gorilla, they need to see it so they can do it. They also need to see it to know that it's normal, that it's how babies eat. If more women breastfeed in public, more women will be able to breastfeed. That means saving billions of dollars and one thousand lives a year.

Little girls are taught from such a young age that their breasts are to tantalize boys. Everywhere they look women are sexualized. In the words of  M. Russel Ballard: "It is, unfortunately, all too easy to illustrate the confusion and distortion of womanhood in contemporary society. Immodest, immoral, intemperate women jam the airwaves, monopolize magazines, and slink across movie screens—all while being celebrated by the world. The Apostle Paul spoke prophetically of “perilous times” that will come in the last days and specifically referenced something that may have seemed particularly perilous to him: “silly women laden with sins, led away with divers lusts” (2 Timothy 3:1, 6). Popular culture today often makes women look silly, inconsequential, mindless, and powerless. It objectifies them and disrespects them and then suggests that they are able to leave their mark on mankind only by seduction—easily the most pervasively dangerous message the adversary sends to women about themselves."

We have to fight that! Little girls need to see breastfeeding to understand that breasts are not (only) for seduction! Breasts produce an antibacterial, antiviral liquid that nurtures babies with a perfect blend of nutrients. They make a liquid that builds immune systems, expands life expectancy and cures cancer. They are a completely green, renewable resource of food. Little girls need to see that so they can respect it.  So they can respect themselves. So they can demand more respect.

The sexualization of a women's body is everywhere. You cannot shield your little boys from all the graphic images, immodestly dressed women, and degrading videos seen everywhere.  Every little boy will be exposed to those images. The best you can do is to teach them how to respond to those images.

Little boys need to see breastfeeding so they can see the proper use of breasts. They need to see breasts in a context that is not sexual, but nourishing. Not degrading, but peaceful.  If little boys could see that as a common sight then when they saw a degrading image of a woman's breast they would not think that was normal. They would think something was very, very wrong. They would have a way to fight off those offensive  images. They might even have a way to avoid the plague of pornography.

This study showed that when a man sees a women in a bikini, the part of his brain that responds is the same part that responds when he sees a tool like a hammer. He doesn't see that women as a person, but as an object. In our society, scantily clad women are everywhere. That is all a man sees.

But when a man sees a women breastfeeding, he sees her not as an object or a tool, but a human being; as a mother. That is huge! He is looking at an exposed breast, and seeing a human woman, not an object. THAT is how we raise the level of respect for women. THAT is how we stop crimes against women.

I've never breastfed in public before, and the thought of it is scary, but I know that it is my choice to make. I am choosing to breastfeed in public becasue of these issues. I want to help other women breastfeed their babies. I want to help a little girl understand her value. I want to help a little boy grow up with respect for women. I want to help men understand that I am not a tool, but a human being. I think there are other ways to accomplish all of these things, but this is how I feel I can help change my little corner of the world.

What to Expect Says That Readying the Baby's Room is an Important Process for Women. It's Called "Nesting."

When I was pregnant with Ash I had a dining room set that needed to be sanded and stained. I'd never done anything like that before and was a little hesitant to take on the project. The day after I thought she would be born I dragged the eight chairs and table into the driveway and began stripping, sanding, varnishing  and whatever else you do to wood. My neighbor thought I was insane. I probably was. I just felt like AI had to get it done! 

Well, I didn't get it done. It was a huge project and the baby came before it was completed, leaving the sanded half-finished chairs in the garage to rot. I never did finish that project. 

This time around I've once again had that feeling that I just have to get things done! Since finding out I was pregnant, I've repainted the entire front room, kitchen, hallway, and bathroom. I really, really want to paint the doors in the hallway, but since I'm now full-term, I'm thinking I should wait until after the baby is born, lest the project go unfinished forever. 

The bathroom was a real challenge. I hated the way our bathroom looked. The whole thing needs to be remodeled, but that costs money. Paint is cheap.  Here are a few before shots: 

 And after:

I'm stuck on the towels. Should I have black towels? Cobalt Blue towels? White towels?  What do you think? I am obsessed with this towel thing. I MUST finish this project!

Do We Have Enough... Bread-Making Vikings, or Small Home-Repair Vikings...?

We've been in this house for one year, eleven months, and one week. During that whole time, I haven't had and oven, and the stove has been risky to use.  Also, the whole range is ugly: 

Well, after one year, eleven months, one week, lots of trips to Sears Outlet, a fantastic President's Day deal, a visit by the delivery and installation people, a visit by the propane company, a visit by Sears repairman, another visit by the propane company, and several phone calls to both Sears and the propane company, I have this:

And the best part is that IT WORKS. 

I will use this new power to bake cookies.  Or will, as soon as I get some cookie sheets. 

Dance, You Squealing Goat!

Drek finished the play structure last Saturday. This Saturday he bought sand for the sand box. He was supposed to just dump the sand in, but he wisely noted that that would add lots of weight to the play structure, and then it would be immovable.

The play structure is massive:

I thought it was immovable already. And why would we want to move it? 

Drek pointed out it would look better more to the right, and then we could have a bigger garden. Still, I estimated you needed at least ten people to move that beast. Where were we going to get ten volunteers together at the same time? 

I shouldn't have worried. I am married to a genius, after all.  With his technique, he could have built the pyramids all by himself. 

We moved it about fifty feet. Drek broke it down into three piece and moved it piece by piece.  My job was to move the slats under the structure so it would slide, and add support to the bridge so it wouldn't topple over while being scooted across the yard. Ash took the position of task master and yelled "SUPPORT!" from the porch whenever I wasn't supporting the bridge with both hands.  We both gave up our jobs at the end to film. 

And it worked! Drek assembled the three pieces back together and added the sand to the sand box. It really does look better on the right side of our yard. And it's easier to push Ash on the swings. 

And now we can make the garden bigger! That will be next Saturday!

*note: Several years ago Drek and I were watching the Ten Commandments. At one point the Egyptian task master yells at the slave making bricks to "Dance, you squirrely goat!" Drek and I thought that was so funny. We've quoted it to each other several times over the years. Today, when I looked up the quote to use as the title, it turned out to be "squealing" not "squirrely". Not nearly as funny. 

Erin Go Bragh

I wanted one last party before the baby was born. I also wanted to make St. Patrick's Day a big deal this year. So I threw a  St. Patrick's Day party at my house for all the mothers of young children in my ward. We had about fifteen adults and thirty kids. I held the party on March 1st, way to early for it to be a real  St. Patrick's Day party, but I wanted to make sure it happened before the baby was born! I tried to make it more of a "Irish Heritage!" theme. Well, more like attempted. 

The invitations said "please bring a healthy green, white, and/or orange snack to share!" (the colors of the flag of Ireland) I wanted to do a fruit salad, so I picked green apples for the green and white, kiwi for the green, and oranges for the orange. While making it I realized the oranges were more white then orange. I paused. This fruit salad was siding dangerously with the Protestants. Maybe I should use mandarin oranges? Mini oranges? What other fruit is orange? Carrots? Not a fruit, but would it taste good in a fruit salad? Are there really no other orange fruits besides oranges? Drek passed by after I had puzzled over this for a few minutes.

"Drek! What fruits are the color orange?" I asked. 

"Mangoes, cantaloupe, tangerines, papaya, apricots, peaches. " He rattled off without hesitation. 

My mouth dropped open. 

Drek shrugged "Orange bell peppers are technically fruit. Orange tomatoes." 

My husband is a genius. Sadly, I used his resource too late, as I didn't have any of those fruits on hand. I think it still turned out ok: 

Next time I would add some mangoes to have a little more Catholic representation. 

Honey, These Are Our Kids We're Talking About. They Deserve The Best!

Drek and I want to encourage our children to play outside. We live in Sunland, after all, they should get a lot of sun. 

Drek decided Ash needed a simple play structure for Christmas. One with a swing and a slide. He looked at prices, and decided to design and build one himself. 

Several Saturdays later, it was complete. Several more Saturdays later, we finally finished painting it: 

I had no idea he could build something so amazing. I'm trying to convince him that his next project should be a house.