Monthly Archives: March 2010

Jokester

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In this first video, I am trying to convince Megan to tell her joke. She finally does at the end.

So after the first video, I asked Megan if she wanted to watch what we had just recorded. She said yes. After we watched it, she said she wanted to tell her joke again. Enter video two.

I sure love this girl and all her silliness!!

P.S. Sarah and Anthony, oh how I miss your camera!!

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S-M-U-T

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Okay.

For those of you who aren’t aware…

And even for those of you who are aware but are not fully aware…

Megan LOVES to read.

I mean LOOOOOOOOOOOOOVES to read.

And there isn’t anything she can’t read.

Anything.

Think you can stump her by pulling out your husband’s “Indroduction to Electrodynamics” textbook???

Think again.

Way back when Megan first expressed interest in reading (when she was only O-N-E year old) I gave myself little to no credit for her UH-maze-ing ability. When people asked about her “gift”, I would reply, “I introduced her to the alphabet when she was about 18 months, and it became immediately apparent that she had a passion for letters. She just kind of took off on her own.”

I have recently decided that that is not 100% true.

Yes, Megan is beyond gifted when it comes to reading, but I think it’s time to stop selling myself short.

I have worked hard to foster Megan’s love of letters. We read together: all the time. We talk about words and letters and their sounds and meanings and uses. And from purchasing her plenty of reading related: games, books, toys, etc., to making sure that the subtitles were rolling whenever she watched television: and EVERYTHING in between, I have definitely done my part.

In the past couple of weeks, however, an unacknowledged factor in Megan’s reading ability has made itself boldly known.

I, myself, am always reading.


It’s true. I am always working my way through a stack of books. And while awaiting my attention, said books reside on my nightstand, in plain sight of little wandering eyes. And there is always one book open and lying around, just waiting to be snatched up whenever a moment may allow.

And Megan…well, she’s noticed this fact.

And not only has she noticed this, but she has taken a very strong interest in what books mommy has taken a very strong interest in.

And so, my books are getting snatched up A LOT lately.

And not by me.

But by my three year old who is actually reading them.

Truer words could not have been said than those spoken by my sister Sarah:

“Good thing you don’t read smut.”

So, for you parents who want your children to read…

Who wouldn’t mind if you have a gifted and talented early reader…

Then YOU read.
Let them see you reading.
Show them that reading is important.

And above all:

“Seek ye out the best books”.
Doctrine and Covenants 88:118.

After all, you wouldn’t want your three year old reading smut,

would you?

you don’t need to remind me…

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Today, during sacrament meeting, Megan was sitting between Adam and me, quietly reading a book. All of a sudden, she stood up on the pew, plopped herself down on my lap, and continued reading.

Up until this point, I had been doing a really great job paying attention to the speakers. But with Megan so close that I could smell her strawberry-watermelon-2-in-1-shampoo-conditioner-combo; my mind began to wander.

I have felt sorry for myself a lot lately. I’m so sad that Jack died. I am so sad that I was so excited to find myself pregnant last October only to miscarry in November. I am so sad that I am not currently pregnant, and don’t know when or if I will bear anymore children.

However…

Even amidst my own private and personal little pity party (wow, how’s that for alliteration?) I have not been foolish enough to overlook the fact that I have a very healthy, very beautiful, very sweet, happy, pleasant, smart, and PRECIOUS child of my very own. I did, in fact, carry her in utero for nine months and she has, in fact, been a great joy to my every waking, breathing, walking, and sleeping moment.

While my heart still aches for my Jack, and while I still long to hold another beautiful and precious child of my very own…I can not justify pining away after what I do not have:

When I have so much.

If

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Lately I have been missing Jack.

A lot.

No one around here knows about Jack and in some ways that makes him seem less real. People see Adam, Megan, and myself and have no idea that what they see is an incomplete image of our eternal family. And what’s more, they do not know what we know of pain, heartbreak, and sorrow.

I am sure that in time a few people will become familiar with our story; it is hard to know when the appropriate or “right” time is to share such a story.

Anyway, this post isn’t going the direction I intended, so here goes.

I have been thinking a lot lately about what it might have been like had Jack lived, albeit with disabilites and delays.

When I was pregnant with Jack, the thought would often cross my mind “what if there is something wrong with this baby?” I imagine many pregnant women worry about the same thing, but it was very persistent in my mind. I don’t think that it was a worry so much that my son would be so sick that he would die, but more a worry that I would have a handicapped or developmental delayed child.

Remember, I had no reason to suspect that Jack would be born with problems. We had every reason to believe the opposite, that our baby would be perfect and healthy…like most babies are.

I told myself during that time that I wouldn’t be able to handle it if my baby was born with learning difficulties. I had never been a person who was comfortable around people who were “slow” or handicapped, and I knew I would really struggle if I was a mother to such a child.

And then Jack was born.

We will never know for sure (or maybe “someday” we will) but there is a good chance that Jack would have indeed suffered developmentally: had he lived.

Now, when I look around and see other boys who have developmental delays, I always think of Jack. I always wonder if that is what Jack would have been like.

And I wish that I would have gotten to raise him. Handicapped, delayed, slow, retarded, whatever: I could not care less.

Well…I guess there is part of me that is grateful that he didn’t have to suffer through a life like that. He does not have to endure human cruelty, or frustration, or a constant feeling of being incapable.

But my goodness no mom would have loved their son more.

And then there is the part of me that wonders if he would have been perfectly normal and healthy.

But again, we’ll probably never know. The “what if” won’t be nearly as important when he is in my arms again, so I don’t know if I will even care to ask.

Recently I saw a scene from a television show where a pregnant mother learns that her baby in utero will either die or will be born with learning disabilities. As they wheel her into surgery to try to save the baby’s life, she imagines what it would be like to raise a child with such severe problems. And she, like me, doesn’t think that she could handle it. But the dream sequence shows her how much she would just love her son, and how rewarding and wonderful such a challenge actually would be. After surgery, she is so excited about the prospect of raising such a special son.

In the end, however, her baby dies. And she is heartbroken. What might have been always haunts her and she is devestated.

It’s just a silly television show, but it had me in tears.

Because the dramatized pain she felt was oh-so-real.

At least for me anyway.

I’ve included a video clip of the scene from “youtube”. It is not the best clip, and the music is a little annoying, but at least you’ll get an idea of what I mean. The clip is only the woman’s dream sequence.

Story Time

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Today I took Megan to the Provo City Library for Story Time.

I was a little apprehensive at first because the parents do not attend with the children and I didn’t know how Megan would act – especially since it was her first time.

Lucky for me, there is a video monitor outside the room so I could watch what was going on inside. Megan did excellent. She got a little antsy about halfway through, but she stayed where she was supossed to, and listened and participated when appropriate. I was so proud of her!

When she came out, I told her so. I said, “Megan! I’m so proud of you!” She replied, “Of us. Not just me. I mean, of course me, but we’re a team now. You’re so proud of us.”

I have Monsters vs Aliens to thank for her reply.

I look forward to making Story Time a part of our weekly routine. It was nice for me to just sit and read while I waited for her, and I am sure she will benefit from the small break away from mom. She’s definitely growing up.

And I am proud of her.

Luck

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She might not have any Irish in her blood…

But you won’t find a cuter Leprechaun!

Happy St. Patrick’s Day to all…and especially to my BFF Trudi…you can’t get any more Irish than Trudi!

And Trudi is “Lucky” in more ways than one. Tomorrow she will welcome her first child into the world! Congratulations Trudi and Tyler. I wish you “luck” and can’t wait to hear all about Baby Boy Matlock!

P.S. Every night after Megan is in bed I change my “Happy Everything!” blocks to something new. It’s the first thing she sees when she comes upstairs in the morning. She loves discovering each new phrase, and it’s always a hint to what her day has in store for her.

Confession of a Shopaholic

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When we arrived at out new place and began unpacking box after box of our belongings, I began to really wonder how much we really needed so much of the stuff we had collected over the course of our marriage (and even before). I decided that if I didn’t need it or really want it, then it had to go.

As a result, we ended up donating about five large boxes of stuff to D.I. I felt really good about getting rid of so many needless things. And, I have yet to completely comb through all our things to see what more I could do without.

In the past, I would have been much more hesitant to get rid of things that we hadn’t used in – oh – maybe three to FIVE years, mostly because it would be a “waste of money” to just throw it out. But now, not only was I able to get rid of things that served no purpose without worrying about what they “once cost me” but I also find that I have more control over purchasing things that will probably one day be in that “needless things” category.

Like I said before, I felt really great about getting rid of stuff. But then, I decided to go through my clothes. Now you have to understand something about me…I have A LOT of clothes. Shopping for clothes is my BIGGEST weakness. Whether it be for myself or someone else, I just really enjoy doing it. But the thing is, it has taken me years and years (and years) to learn how to shop right i.e. to find classy-stylish-clothes that suit my style and my body type (and I still don’t have it totally down pat yet). So in the meantime, I have accumulated lots and lots of clothes, most of which I have only worn a couple of times…if at all.

So while I was on my “get rid of it!” crusade, I really began to realize just how much money I have wasted over the years on clothes.

And it made me sick to my stomache.

Ready and waiting are three garbage bags full of D.I. bound clothing. Many of which are in “like new” condition and most of which are name brand. The sick feeling in my stomache grew stronger as I counted each item that I had never worn, or had hardly worn, or would never wear.

There were fifty-seven items.

I’ll let you estimate their worth and do the math. But even at five dollars an item (which is NOT what I paid for them), you still come out with a nice chunk of change.

That I will be flushing down the toilet.

I was pretty upset about this fact. And I resolved that I would no longer waste money on clothing that I do not need, or that I will not wear and that I do not really have the money for. I feel confident that I can overcome this past weakness. I know that there were many times that I used shopping as a sort of therapy when I felt sad or had a poor body image. I see now how wasteful I have been. I don’t think it will be a problem anymore.

I am feeling a little better about it now, as I have decided to try and sell my gently used name brand items (which constitutes all but about eight of my throwaways) to Plato’s Closet. I am not going to get my hopes up about getting any huge check in return.

But maybe I’ll get enough to buy a new blouse.

Just kidding.