earth right after rain

I am loving the sunshine today, but I actually really enjoyed the rainy days last week as well. We were able to put Baby G's raincoat and boots to good use, and I brought the camera out with us in case there were any photo-worthy moments. As I have looked (and looked and looked) through those rainy day photos I have had a song running through my head. "When I am Baptized" is my favorite primary song, and one of my favorite religious songs in general. The melody is simple and beautiful, and the words speak to me.

There is a quality in these photos that has caused me to ponder on the beauty of an earth made clean again and the symbolism in rain and baptism. I have thought about the absolute joy that playing in the rain puddles brought to my little boy. It is the kind of joy that can only be felt when you are free from the weight of mistakes and transgression. It is the kind of joy that God wants us to feel. Untarnished by the burden of guilt or sorrow, without regret of choices--big or little-- that have offended our spirits . I look at these pictures and feel so motivated to be a more pure and lovely version of myself. To let go of things that hold me back and to give up things that can keep me from the constant blessing of His spirit. The gloriousness (not a word?) of these thoughts lies in this sentence of the song: ...and I can be forgiven and improve myself each day. While there is such beauty in the "earth made clean again," how much more beautiful is the soul that is made new, clean, and fresh daily by honest repentance and forgiveness? I want my life to be as clean as earth right after rain. I want to be the best I can... I feel renewed today. Renewed to make my life more holy, to make my spirit brighter, to have days filled with the same pure joy as my little, perfect boy.

jesus is strawberry

I am not trying to be sacrilegious with that title, I promise. Let me explain. On Saturday our little family of three took a short drive to the store in St. George. On our way J started to talk to Baby G about Easter and Jesus. He was explaining that Jesus died and was put in a cave with a big rock over it, but that after three days Jesus was resurrected and wasn't dead anymore. I was chiming in with little phrases for Baby G to repeat. Baby G said, "Jesus died." And then I said, "Yes, Jesus died, but now he is risen!" and Baby G repeated, "He is risen!" So that was that. About ten minutes later I hear Baby G in the back seat saying, "Jesus died. Jesus is strawberry!" J and I looked at each other, a little perplexed about where he would've gotten that from. Pretty soon I realized that Baby G must've thought we had been telling him to say, "Jesus is RAISIN," not "risen." And then when he couldn't quite remember the right word he just plugged another fruit in its place, thus the "Jesus is strawberry!" We had a good chuckle over that one. We helped him say "risen" a few more times and then on Easter whenever someone would ask him about Jesus he would say, "Jesus died. Jesus is risen!" It was pretty cute.

Here are some photos from Easter Sunday:

His eyelashes kill me in this one (look closely). Praying that all my kids get their daddy's long, dark lashes.

We surprisingly got many cute photos of these two together all dressed up. They were very cooperative. Weird, I know.

His loafers. Nevermind that they are at least two sizes too big. I can't handle how much I love them.

This was the best family shot.

More and more people are starting to tell me Baby G looks like his daddy. Everyone always used to say he looked just like me, but he really is starting to have moments where I don't see me as much as I used to. I think he is probably just a pretty good mix of both of us and it is hard to distinguish. I love that I can see some of my features, but I also adore the thought of him looking like his handsome dad. What do you guys think now?

More like his daddy?

Or mommy?

I can't decide.

hint: we went to his name

Over Easter weekend we headed south to St. George to spend the holiday with lots of J's family. His grandparents and some aunts, uncles, and cousins live there and his parents have a house in Hurricane so it has become an Easter tradition in his family to gather together there. It was a quick trip, but so much fun for Baby G to be surrounded by so many kids around his age. 

Sadly Baby G now calls Logan "Ogan" and not "Elmie." I don't know exactly when he dropped Elmie, but I am kind of sad about it. At any rate, the cousins played great together and had fun making the air mattress flat by jumping on it.

They also dyed Easter eggs together, and, as you can see, had a hard time understanding the concept of one egg at a time. It was funny though, because the eggs they dyed ended up being some of the most vibrant and beautiful ones I've ever seen. I guess they knew what they were doing.

Grandma and Grandpa's backyard full of rocks is a complete dream come true for our little hurler. He could've stayed out there chucking rocks for hours. Love his expression in this photo.

Saturday afternoon was spent hunting for eggs with the other little ones. We let the smaller ones go out first. Here they are waiting to be let loose.

The bigger ones joined in and everyone got plenty of candy. Baby G loved finding and collecting the eggs, but really wasn't so much into eating the candy. While the other kids sat and devoured their loot Baby G spent his time gathering rocks and throwing them into the fire pit. He is definitely his father's son. You would've never caught me waiting even one extra second to dig in to my Reese's eggs.

Guess what else took precedence over eating? 

Kissing.

Now that is more like his mama. Kissing always was my weakness.

And check out little Prestley. I love a little girl who knows what she wants and goes for it!

There was also pinata smashing. Baby G was napping for this, but after rounds and round of the littles taking whacks at it, Kendall finally had to step in. Logan hadn't gone down for his nap yet, but it probably would've been better if he had. Once he saw Kendall smash the beautiful butterfly that had been his friend and companion for the past week, Logan burst into inconsolable tears. Hitting pinatas is one of those things that you don't really think of as being very strange until you look at it from the perspective of a toddler. We had just encouraged whacking something with a stick and then cheered when it broke. Kind of confusing for little brains.

While the kids napped one afternoon Lisa whipped out the nail polish and we decided to give each other pedicures. This was the part where four of us tried to fit into the tub to soak our feet at the same time.

Grandma and Grandpa's house is right next to Sand Hallow Reservoir (or is is a lake?). If the weather would've cooperated we would've spent lots of time playing, but instead we let the boys throw in some rocks before rushing back to the car to get out of the wind.

Luckily, the swimming pool and hot tub were warmer than the lake, so we still got to get wet. Baby G loves swimming with Grandma. He was freezing because he didn't want to get in the hot tub, but he wanted to stay in the pool and wasn't happy when I used my better judgment and got him out to get warm. 

The boys took a walk with Grandma early one morning so parents could sleep in. Sadly my sleeping in gene has been lost in motherhood, but it was very nice to shower and get ready without any small distractions running around. When they got back from their walk their shoes were full of red sand, so they got into the tub together before church.

I wasn't really planning on doing an Easter basket (horror!), but Baby G's daddy wanted to do one for him. We grabbed a couple of things at the store, but mostly filled up his bucket with stuff that Grandma had. Aunt Lisa crafted some homemade Easter grass, and voila! A perfectly lovely Easter basket. Baby G found his under the kitchen table.

Holding his goods.

The boys sat and examined the contents of their Easter basket while giggling at my husband.

Baby G was very focused on opening up a tootsie roll. One of his favorite phrases lately is, "Do it self."

After Easter baskets we got ready and went to church. I took a few photos of Baby G is his Easter finest, but I'll publish those in their own post. After Sacrament we went back to Grandma and Grandpa's for some hamburgers, (one of the best I've ever had, Grandpa. Seriously.) and then we hit the road. Baby G was exhausted and fell fast asleep with the beautiful red rock still rolling by. 

After his nap he woke up to a basket still full of Easter candy. I highly recommend keeping a fully stocked Easter basket in your car on road trips. It made the ride go smooth as silk.

We love our family and are so grateful for all the work people go to to create memories for our little boy. I think he'll remember it all. And if he doesn't remember the details, I am sure he will remember the feeling. It doesn't get much better than being surrounded by people who adore and love you. Baby G is a lucky little boy. Lots of people love him.

a sign

that I should probably move on to some heavier weights:

on again off again

So I haven't been blogging. Perhaps you noticed? It started with baking and frosting 250 mini cupcakes, turned into a week-long Montessori conference (in Honeyville!), and culminated with being seduced by the sewing machine. I have some pretty sweet fruits from my labors, but I sort of have a really tumultuous, hot then cold relationship with the sewing machine. I sew myself into a frenzied passion for about a week and then don't even glance in the sewing machine's direction for months. I think I'll be back to blogging regularly now until the sewing love affair resumes in oh, probably June. 

If you live in Utah and have small children please tell me you know about Babinski's Baby. I love almost every single thing in that store, but most of it is WAY out of my price range. My mom and I were there a couple of weeks ago and I spotted some darling little vests by Sandbox Rebel. I loved the casual, almost punkish look of the vests. But they were $35.00 for one little tiny vest. Anyway, I showed my mom and then I was like, "I could totally make one of these." Which at the time was all talk because I'm not a talented or experienced seamstress at all, but I knew I could figure it out. So the vest became my mission. I found a pattern that I sort of liked (in case you were wondering, finding patterns for boys' vests is a nightmare), altered it a little so the shape was more what I wanted, found the material (not exactly what I was going for, but it worked), and spent an afternoon ignoring my child, poor little thing. But he got a vest out of it! And it turned out better than I was expecting, so I went to Saver's and got some mens' suit coats for 99 cents that I can cut up and make some more out of. I'm pretty happy about it. Here is the vest:

(it has three different kinds of material-- the front is one thing, the back is another, and the lining is another)

Here is Baby G sporting his new apparel:

Since I was in the relationship with the sewing machine, I decided to go ahead and make an apron for Baby G. I have been wanting one for a while because he loves to help me cook and I knew he'd love one, but I hadn't found any cute ones for boys. I found some cowboy material and went to work. 

He especially loves the pocket. He likes to put mints in it and get one out to eat whenever he wants.

There were a few other items on the sewing agenda, but this is what you get for today. I have a few more blog posts brewing, so hopefully it won't be too long.

elmie

Baby G has a rather endearing habit of adding -ie (or -y, depending on how he spells it) to the end of many of his words. If something is cold, it's "coldie" or "freezy." His hammer is "hammy," his uncles Adam and Ben are "Andy" and "Bendie." Juice is "juicy," medicine is "medicie," and balls are "ballsy." And that's just naming a few. 

Naturally when we introduced him to Elmo, Baby G quickly took to calling him "Elmie." Makes perfect sense. When he first learned of Nemo, Baby G also called him "Elmie." I tried and tried to get him to say "Nemo," but it has always been "Elmie." I realized that "Elmo" and "Nemo" sound very much alike, so that explained why Baby G thought of them as the same name. So even though "Nemo" doesn't really sound like "Elmie," it is an understandable and forgivable nickname. 

But then there is Baby G's cousin, Logan. Ever since we started having Baby G try to say Logan's name, he was "Elmie." At first we thought he wasn't understanding what we were asking, but then it became obvious that "Elmie" meant "Logan" when Baby G started pointing at pictures of Logan and confidently labeling him "Elmie!" So it has stuck. We have absolutely no clue how "Logan" became "Elmie," but nonetheless, it has. We even try to break up the syllables to get Baby G to say, "Lo- Gan," but he outsmarts us by replying, "Lo-Gan, ELMIE!" So that's that, I guess. Elmie it is. He speaks in sentences and amazes us all the time by the funny little things that come out of his mouth, but for some reason he just can't seem to get past the idea that Elmo, Nemo, and Logan are all "Elmie."

 

Elmie and Baby G are getting along really well lately (Elmie is 4 months older and he used to like to beat Baby G up), and it is so much fun to know that they will grow up together and be best buddies. 

But old habits die hard, and occasionally some of the rough behavior from days gone by return, and Elmie decides to try and squeeze Baby G's hand off instead of just holding it gently. I love both of their expressions in this picture-- Elmie is in attack mode and Baby G is wide-eyed and surprised by the sudden violence, but not too concerned.

Elmie turned two a couple of weeks ago and we went for a swim to celebrate. Elmie is adventurous and brave so he had to teach the more timid Baby G the ways of water splashing, but they both had so much fun there together once Baby G warmed up.

I love this picture. Love it. Love the water splashing, love how hard we're laughing, love that it is me and my boy.

The expression on Baby G's face is pretty awesome.

I have a feeling this is only the beginning of hundreds of pictures like this one of these two little boys playing together.

Brave birthday boy Elmie jumping to his daddy.

Another party guest, sweet little Maggie. I just loved her little closed mouth smile and sparkley eyes in this picture.

Birthday boy and his mommy.

Grandma taught Baby G how to "swim." He was proudly doing the breaststroke all around the pool and the next day in the tub he started practicing again and said, "Swimming wif Gamma."

Thanks for the fun, Elmie. Please don't be mad when you are 16 and we still call you "Elmie," okay? It is here to stay, I'm afraid.

two peas

Sometimes I am genuinely scared to have another child. Baby G has been such a breeze thus far--I have been spoiled, and I know that my odds of getting another go-with-the-flow, make-my-life-so-easy kind of kid are slim. Perhaps one of the reasons that we get along so well is that he is so much like me. His personality mirrors mine (and his daddy's really-- we are all very much alike), and I think that makes it easy on me because chances are if I want to do something, Baby G probably would enjoy it, too (except for blogging. Baby G does NOT like me to spend time on the computer). Anyway, we really are two peas in a pod. 

 

He has my eyes, and even though he is starting to look more and more like his daddy, I love that I can see some of me in him.

He loves watching basketball (or any sport with balls). I love that we can continue to do things we like and Baby G can just come along (though we did need to have snacks in tow. And lest you think I am a perfect mother you should know that by the 4th quarter the strawberries and chocolate milk had deteriorated into Red Vines and gummy worms).

He entertains himself so I can get things done around the house or get ready for the day. I often find him in his room on the rocking chair reading a book. (Don't get the wrong idea completely, though. I also often find him in the living room throwing balls at my decorations, but hey, at least I can get ready, right?)

He eats whatever I eat. He loves the mahi-mahi with brown rice from Rumbi, an I LOVE that I don't have to order something yucky just so Baby G can share it with me.

He also eats veggie pizza like a pro. 

But he sometimes picks off the spinach.

One more little thing: he sends himself to his room if he does something naughty. I have reserved time-outs for situations where I have already given him a warning not to do something and he still does it (that is how I was able to keep my Christmas tree ornaments on the tree this past year). Time-out consists of me taking him to his room, sitting him on the floor, shutting the door and leaving for about 15 seconds. Any longer than that and he will forget why he is there and it will lose any effectiveness. When I go back in his room I talk to him about what happened and he says sorry and gives me a hug and we go on our merry way. This has been VERY effective and I have actually only had to do it 3 or 4 times. Anyway, the other day we were playing in my bedroom and he found a glass cup that had about an inch of water left in it from the night before. He picked it up and started drinking it and then casually threw the glass to the floor, spilling the remaining water on the carpet. I quickly went over to him and told him that it wasn't okay to throw cups when he was done with them. He said, "Okay, Mama," and that was going to be the end of it (because it's not like he has disobeyed or anything, I hadn't told him not to throw the cup). Instead he looked at me with earnest eyes and said, "Room?" I said, "You don't need to go in your room, just don't throw the cup again." But he insisted, "Room." So I said, "If you think you need to go to your room you can, but it's okay if you stay here with me if you want." He quickly turned and ran to his room and shut the door. I was giggling to myself and had to go in and see if he really was in self-imposed time-out or if he just went in to play. Sure enough, he was sitting in the middle of the room with his little arms folded just waiting for me to come tell him it was okay. I love this little boy and I hope that his conscience stays this active his whole life.