(this happened a few weeks ago, but I forgot to post!)
Nativity and Toddlers Post 2012
(...to distinguish from the post here, and the one here):


I was in the kitchen, doing the breakfast dishes.  George, who hadn't been awake when we were decorating the house for Christmas the night before, had just discovered the nativity set on the side table in the family room.

George, running into the kitchen holding one of the figures: Mommy!  Who's this?
Me: That is Mary, she is the mother of Jesus.
George:  Oh!  Jesus' Mommy.

(runs back to the nativity)

George, grabbing the baby Jesus, and holding Him up: Mommy!  Who's this?
Me:  Who do you think that is?
George, excitedly: A BABY!  It's a baby!
Me: Yes!  That's the baby Jesus.  Jesus when he was just a little baby.
George: Oh, Jesus baby.

George, setting Jesus down, and picking up someone else: Mommy!  Who's this?
Me: That's a shepherd.  He came with his sheep to see baby Jesus.

George, setting shepherd down, picking up wise man:   Oh.  Who's this?
Me:  That's a wise man.  He brought a present to baby Jesus for being born.
George: Oh!  A present?!?  For baby Jesus.

George, picking up yet another one:  Who's this one Mommy?
Me: That's another wise man.  He brought a present for baby Jesus, too.
George: OH!  He brought him a hat! (I'm guessing whatever that wiseman is holding looks like a hat)

George, catching on, picks up another wise man:  Is this a wise man, Mommy?  He brought a present for Jesus?
Me: Yes, that's a wise man.

George, picking up another one:  Who's this, Mommy?  A wise man?
Me:  No, that's Joseph.  He was Jesus's father on the earth.
George, trying to wrestle the staff out of Joseph's hand to give to the baby Jesus:  Him brought Jesus a present too!  Look Mommy!  It's right here!
Me:  Please try not to break it.
George, immediately putting Joseph down: OK, Mommy.  (that's a first, right there)

George, picking up the last piece:  Who's this Mommy?
Me:  That's an angel.  She came to tell everyone that Jesus was born.
George:  Angel brought a present too?  She brought Him a car?
Me, not sure I heard correctly:  What--did you say a car?
George:  Yes, him brought Him a car.  Lightning McQueen.  Do you think Jesus would like my Lightning McQueen, Mommy?
Me, pondering a bit on this development:  Yes, I think Jesus would have liked your Lightning McQueen...

George, getting more and more excited:  McQueen would like Jesus!  McQueen would
like to go see baby Jesus!  See, Mommy?!?  McQueen is seeing Jesus!

(...at which point, could tell that I was going to need a camera, so I grabbed it and ran into the family room...)

Look Mommy!  So is Salty!  And Mater!  They all want to see baby Jesus!

And so, I bring you, this year's Nativity:

 A little later, after McMissile showed up:

Since that time, George has been OBSESSED with Mary and Baby Jesus' and "Big Jesus."  I must say, these are some of the best people to be obsessed with always, but especially at Christmastime.

He continues to re-arrange the nativity, a la toddler, and frequently carries Mary and Baby Jesus around with him on his adventures (see the second half of Nativity post 2008, if you do not understand what I mean by this...)

   Let us all crowd in to see this baby!

One of his favorite things to watch this year is a depiction of Jesus' birth and life, set to   "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" arranged by The Piano Guys.  It is beautiful.  And George LOVES it.  All it takes for him to come running is the first 3 notes.  He knows exactly what it is.  "The Mary show!"  Mom, "It's the Mary show!"

 

Mary, Baby Jesus, Holly Shiftwell from Cars, and George,

all watching "The Mary Show. on my iPhone"

Merry Christmas! 

My One, My Only, Political Post for Election 2012

Sometimes on Facebook I post "benefits of having a two year old."  Well, I have discovered yet another one:

The Human Political Call Answering Machine

George is very much into answering the phone.  The other day, the phone was ringing, and I could hear the computer voice saying "call from Washington, DC, call from Washington, DC."  This is normally when I jump up, and chat with my dear friend, Mitt Romney.

On this particular day, I just didn't have the energy.  "He's going to have to get through this on his own," I thought, "I have no more ideas for answers to debate questions, or lines for speeches."

So, I decided to ignore the call.  Well, George does not ignore calls.  EVER.  He ran over, and grabbed the phone.

George: "Hello!  This is ME!"

(I'll mention here, that in addition to being "very much into answering the phone," he is also "very much into himself."  He assumes that everyone who calls is calling to talk to him.  Probably because everyone who calls DOES talk to him--trying to somehow get an adult on the phone...)

George's face went from "happy and excited" to "confused and slightly annoyed" (the same way we all feel when we answer the phone and realize it is a political message).

The "person" on the other end did not enthusiastically say, "Hi George!" or ask him how he was doing (answer: "I'm two!").  He didn't even ask if he could speak to George's mommy or daddy.

Instead, the "person" launched into a whole bunch of words and did not stop talking.

Despite his confusion, George continued to listen patiently.  At one point, he looked at me and said, matter-of-factly,  "Only three dollars, Mommy." (Only three dollars?!?  Either some politician is getting desperate, or George mis-heard $30--or $300, for that matter)

The recording ended, and George handed me the phone.  "Here, Mommy, it's for you."

Thanks, George, I'll happily take it from here.

I Know You'll Be Pinning This

Do you suffer from insomnia?  Have you been looking for something to do while you are supposed to be sleeping, yet aren't?

Well, look no further!  We have discovered a fabulous activity you can do to keep yourself diverted from the fact that you aren't sleeping...even though you are supposed to be.  Sleeping that is.

And the best part is that you can do this using items you may already have around your house!

Step 1.  Find a long, sturdy implement.  Like a bat or a large stick.  If you have neither of these handy, do the following:  Remove the mattress from your bed frame.  If you are lucky, you will find wooden slats that the mattress rests on.  Grasp one of the slats firmly and pull.  Don't be afraid to pull hard.  Sometimes the slats are bolted in, and you may have to work at it.  But eventually it should break free.

Step 2.  Look around the room you are in--at the walls in particular.  Is there art hanging on the walls?  Basically, you are looking for something that is at least partially made of glass (like a photo frame), or other ceramic material.  In this case, we chose the antique china plates hanging on the wall above the guest bed.

(Note: these are not the plates we used, but are hanging in the same room as those we used.  

If we'd had a ladder, they would have been our next choice, I'm sure.

Step 3.  Now comes the fun.  Once you have your stick, or bed frame slat (as the case may be) and have selected the art on the wall you wish to use for your project, you are set to go.

Take the slat and knock the art off the walls.  It doesn't matter if you don't manage to break the art as you are knocking it off, because you will have time for that in the last step.  Just get it off the walls and onto a sturdy surface--the ground, or even a firm mattress works well (what we used).

Note: the antique plates were a nice choice for this project because they came off the wall easily.

Step 4.  Now that the plates (or art of choice) are off the wall, here is your chance to really go at it.  Take your slat and just beat the crud out of everything you knocked off the wall.  If you are doing it correctly, the plates (or picture frame, or whatever you chose), will break into many, many pieces.

There you have it!

I hope the experience is as rewarding for you as it was for George--I mean, us.  It was really fun to see the whole project come full circle like this--starting with me, going from antique shop to antique shop, painstakingly collecting plates one or two at a time.  Then ever so carefully arranging them on the wall to look "just right."  Followed by having them hang on the wall for a few years, and then, finally, when the time was right, having them broken into a bunch of shards.

If you want a taste

of Heavenly Father's time frame, just think about how long it took your child to go from 16 minutes old to 16 years...

Happy Birthday, Beanie Baby!

Decisions Made Ahead of Time

I learned, again, today, that it is not a good idea to leave a 2-year old alone for very long. OK, ever. Even when it seems like he is completely engrossed in his "Thomas the Tank Engine" episode. So engrossed that you think, "OK I'll just quickly go (fill in the blank here) in the other room and come back before he knows I am gone."

Those of you who read this blog are thinking, "you STILL haven't learned that lesson? Haven't you read your blog posts on this child?"

So I'm a slow learner.

Anyway, George was ENGROSSED in his "Thomas the Tank Engine" episode...well you get the idea.

I was in the other room, and heard, "Mom!!! Mommy! Mommy! Mom!!!!! Mommy!!! Mommy! Mommy!!!"

The calls did not sound like distress, so I called back "Son! What, son? Mommy is in here! Son!...," thinking he would come and find me.

All I got back was, "Mommy!!!! Mommy! Mommy!, etc., etc."

So I decided to see what the situation was. I walked around the corner to the kitchen just in time to see a chubby little hand let fly a bunch of white flakes that landed all over the counter, joining the other white flakes that were already all over the counter, the stools, and the floor.

Oatmeal. Dry Oatmeal.

He was throwing dry oatmeal, in what looked like an attempt to make a snow globe out of the kitchen. He had taken the lid off the oatmeal canister all by himself.

And he was extremely proud.

He wasn't calling me because of a problem. He was calling me to show off his discovery!

He saw me, and the enthusiasm ramped up--he went into his gibberish that he still uses when he is excited and needs to talk really fast. Every 5th or 6th word is intelligible. "Mommy! alskd jflsakjg oiu aerh wrjlxz cmvlkjs Mommy! ekwlul vnoie alhepo gks djk Mommy!"

He was telling me all about it as he continued to throw little handfuls of "snow" hither and yon; the cutest happy and proud look on his face, as if to say, "see this amazingly fun game I have discovered, Mom?"

Have you ever had a surreal moment when time slows down and you can see what is happening, but other thoughts or ideas run through your mind at the same time, so that in a split second you are basically processing two things at once? That is what happened here.

As I watched him, all I could think about were the Mormon Public Service Ads where the kids are playing in the mud with a hose and they accidentally spray the dad, or the kids accidentally start the car rolling down the hill backward into a ditch, or the kid spills spaghetti all over the floor. And every time, the PSA cuts to the parent who is standing there, obviously upset, but also considering whether running in and beating the children is really the best option...

Of course they don't ever choose that option (let me add here that neither would I, nor have I). What kind of PSA would that be?!?

If you have seen the PSAs I'm referring to, you will know where I am going with this...

I thought, "If I am to follow the example of those PSAs, this is where I run in, grab handfuls of oatmeal and start tossing it all over the room with my son, while flakes drift down in slow motion, feel-good music plays, and a guy comes in with the voice over: "Family: isn't it about TIME?" Cut to George and me, having the time of our lives in the messiest dry-oatmeal-snow-globe-kitchen ever. But we don't care! Happier faces have never been seen!"

Then I snapped back to reality and started laughing because I LOVE those PSAs, and this situation would have made a FABULOUS one at that.

I looked at my kitchen, and realized* that this was not going to be one of those times I join the child and make a huge mess. A huge mess had already been made, and we have a party here tonight. One that does not involve skating through dry oatmeal covering the wood floor. Though maybe that is an idea for the future.

Thankfully, the options in life aren't simply: 1) yell at the child or 2) make a mess with him.

I went for something in between: 3) Me with a smile and feigned excitement: "Son! Are you having fun? Wow--that is a giant mess you are making! Cool! How about you come in Mommy's room?" ("Where I can keep an eye on you..." I thought.)

Fortuitously, it turns out that Chewy likes to eat dry oatmeal,** so he has been helping with cleanup.
___________________________________




*"realized?" As if I had to think about it for more than a nano-second, and then "come to the conclusion?" I didn't "realize" anything--I already knew the second I came around the corner that I would not be throwing oatmeal anywhere.

In fact, not throwing oatmeal through the air may have even been, for me, one of those "decisions made ahead of time." This is where a person makes a decision long before they ever get into a situation where making the decision may be tough. For example, deciding at age 8 that, "I will never do drugs." Or at age 23 that, "I will never eat octopus." (Though making the octopus decision during the "octopus-eating-opportunity" situation probably wouldn't have been hard--even with peer pressure.)

Yep--I'm pretty sure I made the decision long ago (in pre-mortal life, even) not to throw dry (or wet) oatmeal around any room. I feel in my bones that this is true. Because, when the moment arose, BAM! There I was with my decision: No oatmeal throwing. It is a very liberating feeling, knowing exactly what not to do.

This is why that surreal "vision of the Mormon PSAs" was so weird--I already knew what I planned to do, yet at the exact same moment, I was running those TV spots through my head, and people were throwing mud, and getting spaghetti wiped on them; I was throwing oatmeal, etc.

Hmmm...after seeing how much fun George was having, I may have to re-think my position on the oatmeal throwing.

(Don't worry. I still won't do drugs. Or eat octopus. I had to adjust my squid decision--I accidentally ate some in Korea. But the octopus decision I was able to hold completely firm on during that time.)




**We already know Chewy likes cooked oatmeal. He hangs out underneath George, in the hopes that George will throw some his way. Which George does. Every time. Because he loves to feed Chewy.

Too bad this also means that the dog is covered in stuck-on, hard-as-a-rock oatmeal until he gets to the groomer (the groomer loves this, btw). Because George, in addition to enjoying feeding Chewy, also likes to drop food on top of him--for sport. And Chewy doesn't mind. What's a little (or a lot) of oatmeal in the fur, when you have the chance at getting people food for breakfast?

I'll tell you though, it is not fun to pet Chewy after an "oatmeal for breakfast" day.


I couldn't find one of the ads I was talking about, but I LOVE LOVE LOVE this one:

Other than when he was a brand new baby, I can count the number of times he has fallen asleep on me on one hand. Two--maybe three times.
Once he could hold his head up well enough to look around, he was too busy to be falling asleep--or even cuddling, for that matter--on Mommy. He has not been a snuggly baby in the least. Just busy, energetic, enthusiastic, happy (except for those few, choice colic-y months) and, well, destructive. :-)

As he is getting older, he is becoming more and more affectionate; though still preferring enthusiastic patting of people on their bottoms over kisses (hey--it's where he can reach when people are standing up). And he does like to give hugs if it involves running to the person and hugging/getting hugged really hard.

I must disclose here, that there is a line of "enthusiastic patters" and "hard huggers" that I descend through--it is called "being a Herd." Or maybe that should that read, "being 'Herd'," because those of us in this family line also tend to laugh loudly and can be extremely exuberant in our interactions with people.

Many of you will know exactly what I am talking about, others of you won't, other than remembering that you have been either hugged hard, or patted to death, by me. Or both. Can't keep my hands off people, apparently...

Anyway, he comes by his "signs of affection" honestly.

I'm hoping he begins to enjoy giving kisses--he certainly gets enough of them, but he is very judicious in handing them out. Maybe this is so the receiver appreciates them to the fullest. I know I do when I get one.

I guess I digress. Today he woke up from his nap angry. I sat down with him and started (what else?) patting him. Two amazing things happened: 1) he snuggled. 2) HE FELL ASLEEP. I was shocked. I had Goose grab the camera and document the whole thing, because it may not happen again.

I did my best not to move, and relished every second of the half hour he slept on me. One of those "Mommy Moments" I will remember forever.