So Vanny, I have to tell you a funny story:
We do a lot of our shopping at Costco here in New York. The truth is, we'll probably always do a lot of our shopping at Costco, as long as there's one nearby. It's kind of a fun place. You love it there, maybe because of the hotdogs, maybe because the people who run the escalators always tell you how beautiful you are. This is all aside from the family loyalty we feel since Mimi has worked there for so long.
Well, when you shop at Costco, things come in really big packages. We're moving from here in less than a week now so we've been resisting purchases of enormous quantities unless we can finish them off here.
We can make it through an enormous amount of cheese or eggs or milk for example. We can even polish off a fair amount of broccoli. But it takes us several months to make it through a Costco-size package of toilet paper.
A couple of weeks ago towards the end of July, we came down to our last roll of toilet paper. I put it on my list and just thought I would grab a couple of rolls at the "regular" grocery store (Steve's C-town). But when I got there, it was expensive! So I didn't buy any. I didn't have an alternate plan, and you can't just live without toilet paper, but I couldn't bring myself to pay those prices!
So we ran out. For a couple of days we used baby wipes (too much information?) torn in half so as not to be too extravagent. And then came Youth Conference.
We believe that "There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated- And when we obtain any blessing from God it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated." -D&C 130:20-21
I also personally believe that when you are trying your best, and working hard, God has a sense of humor and throws in a little something extra that you may need. Like toilet paper.
At the end of Youth Conference, I found myself up to my ears in stuff. Extra pens, fabric, markers, books, papers, folders, wristbands that didn't get used. As I sorted through the piles of junk, I came across the extra supplies from the games. Among them, five or six rolls of unused, unopened toilet paper. Just enough to get us through.
Don't ever let anyone tell you that serving in the Church doesn't pay.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
Nervous
I'm sitting among boxes, thinking about packing, thinking about tidying and cleaning and preparing. But I just had to stop to write a little something.
We have finally passed the event that marked the end of the summer, the thing that stood between us and moving: Youth Conference. It was hard work. It was scary and overwhelming and at times felt like more than we could do. But it was a total success.
You handled it like a champ.
So this morning I woke up and knew that it was time to shift our focus onto packing up our little place, your first home, and getting ready to move accross the country. Close to family, close to the mountains and the ocean we love.
There are a million things to do and to plan and to think about. But as you rest, I just wanted to tell you that I love you. Tomorrow, you are finally going in for an MRI on your beautiful, big head. Your head has been growing more quickly than most babies and the doctors are worried. I keep thinking that if they knew you, how curious and friendly and smart and active you are, they'd know you need that big head to make a space for everything going on inside. But they just want to make sure. And I'm grateful they care.
I hope my feelings are confirmed. I can't help but feel a little bit nervous.
We have finally passed the event that marked the end of the summer, the thing that stood between us and moving: Youth Conference. It was hard work. It was scary and overwhelming and at times felt like more than we could do. But it was a total success.
You handled it like a champ.
So this morning I woke up and knew that it was time to shift our focus onto packing up our little place, your first home, and getting ready to move accross the country. Close to family, close to the mountains and the ocean we love.
There are a million things to do and to plan and to think about. But as you rest, I just wanted to tell you that I love you. Tomorrow, you are finally going in for an MRI on your beautiful, big head. Your head has been growing more quickly than most babies and the doctors are worried. I keep thinking that if they knew you, how curious and friendly and smart and active you are, they'd know you need that big head to make a space for everything going on inside. But they just want to make sure. And I'm grateful they care.
I hope my feelings are confirmed. I can't help but feel a little bit nervous.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Tonight
Tonight, I'm really tired and a little bit discouraged.
But do you know what I do when I feel this way? I sneak into your room and I watch you sleep. Sometimes I set on our chair in the dark and just watch the silhouette of your cozy little body rise and fall. Sometimes I stand over you, or stroke your hair, or talk quietly to you and remind you about all the fun things we did today.
Like crawling around in the muddy grass at Union Square until your hands and feet were filthy.
Or going into the fabric district and finding fun summery fabrics and some bright orange thread (which you thought tasted pretty yummy)
Or going to Wendy's with Valerie to get a Frosty (which you also thought was pretty yummy)
Or watching people sing on the street corners
Or passing the peddlers with their art
Or laughing. That was my favorite part of the day. Valerie and I had gone into a fancy paper store just west of Union Square called "Kate's Paperie". You were ready to be done with your stroller and were not being subtle about it. You started in with your high pitched squealing scream. So I danced for you. I ran in place with scissor legs and arms and danced like a fool and you thought it was so funny. You laughed from your belly showing all your fancy teeth, and I laughed too because my heart wanted to pop with love for you.
Yeah, that's what I think about when I feel this way. And then I feel- good.
But do you know what I do when I feel this way? I sneak into your room and I watch you sleep. Sometimes I set on our chair in the dark and just watch the silhouette of your cozy little body rise and fall. Sometimes I stand over you, or stroke your hair, or talk quietly to you and remind you about all the fun things we did today.
Like crawling around in the muddy grass at Union Square until your hands and feet were filthy.
Or going into the fabric district and finding fun summery fabrics and some bright orange thread (which you thought tasted pretty yummy)
Or going to Wendy's with Valerie to get a Frosty (which you also thought was pretty yummy)
Or watching people sing on the street corners
Or passing the peddlers with their art
Or laughing. That was my favorite part of the day. Valerie and I had gone into a fancy paper store just west of Union Square called "Kate's Paperie". You were ready to be done with your stroller and were not being subtle about it. You started in with your high pitched squealing scream. So I danced for you. I ran in place with scissor legs and arms and danced like a fool and you thought it was so funny. You laughed from your belly showing all your fancy teeth, and I laughed too because my heart wanted to pop with love for you.
Yeah, that's what I think about when I feel this way. And then I feel- good.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Dropping the Ball
Things are a bit busy around here these days. I'm taking a lot of classes learning how to teach yoga (something that will hopefully be familiar to you and a part of our daily lives by the time you're reading this). Dad is working hard for us. He has two jobs which keep him away until midnight some nights.
We have a good life. It's interesting because we have everything in life that is truly important.
We have a safe, comfortable place to live. It lacks certain amenities we'd like... the kitchen doubles as a mudroom, the bathroom has water damage and is hard to keep clean, there aren't any windows... but we have warm comfy beds and a place for you to crawl and play when it's raining outside.
We have yummy food to eat. This is good, because these days you can't seem to get enough. You could eat all day and still reach for any food you see. You are moving all day long, so that explains part of it. You seem to have inherited your dad's metabolism and need for exercise (specifically climbing).
We have water to drink, which most days goes without much notice and too little appreciation. But this is the main shortage that keeps people in poverty throughout the world, and kills so many innocent children. We are very blessed to have abundant water.
We have each other. We play together and jabber to each other all day long. We go to the park, we play with your friends, we wait for Dad, we listen to music, we make music.
We have the gospel. This is what really puts everthing in perspective. It's what helps us realize what we have. It reminds us that most things in life are fleeting and impermanent. Things are really tight for us right now Van. It is a huge cause of concern to look in our pockets and look to the future and not really know how the two can possibly work together.
But we have a rich life. It's important to stop and see these things because they get lost in the daily rhythm of days. We are in a transition period right now. We're approaching the end of our life in New York and looking forward to a new one in California. We're sad to leave behind what we have come to love: good people, beautiful culture, and a unique way of life. But we're happy to leave the pace and excited to be close to family and to the land we love.
Transitions will happen throughout the rest of your life Van, and it's easy while they are occuring to think that things aren't good, that there's not enough. But if you make good choices, choices that will keep good things near you, like family, clean water, enough food and the gospel, you'll come out right.
Sometimes that's what faith is like.
We have a good life. It's interesting because we have everything in life that is truly important.
We have a safe, comfortable place to live. It lacks certain amenities we'd like... the kitchen doubles as a mudroom, the bathroom has water damage and is hard to keep clean, there aren't any windows... but we have warm comfy beds and a place for you to crawl and play when it's raining outside.
We have yummy food to eat. This is good, because these days you can't seem to get enough. You could eat all day and still reach for any food you see. You are moving all day long, so that explains part of it. You seem to have inherited your dad's metabolism and need for exercise (specifically climbing).
We have water to drink, which most days goes without much notice and too little appreciation. But this is the main shortage that keeps people in poverty throughout the world, and kills so many innocent children. We are very blessed to have abundant water.
We have each other. We play together and jabber to each other all day long. We go to the park, we play with your friends, we wait for Dad, we listen to music, we make music.
We have the gospel. This is what really puts everthing in perspective. It's what helps us realize what we have. It reminds us that most things in life are fleeting and impermanent. Things are really tight for us right now Van. It is a huge cause of concern to look in our pockets and look to the future and not really know how the two can possibly work together.
But we have a rich life. It's important to stop and see these things because they get lost in the daily rhythm of days. We are in a transition period right now. We're approaching the end of our life in New York and looking forward to a new one in California. We're sad to leave behind what we have come to love: good people, beautiful culture, and a unique way of life. But we're happy to leave the pace and excited to be close to family and to the land we love.
Transitions will happen throughout the rest of your life Van, and it's easy while they are occuring to think that things aren't good, that there's not enough. But if you make good choices, choices that will keep good things near you, like family, clean water, enough food and the gospel, you'll come out right.
Sometimes that's what faith is like.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Just a List
Here are a few of the new things you are doing lately...
Slithering backwards down the stairs
Laying your head on my shoulder after you finish your bottle before you go to bed (thank you)
Letting go of things and standing for a few seconds
Loving babies, kids and dogs
Waving
Hugging (oh how I love this one)
Eating--not really a new thing, but you do it in a new way. You eat pretty much what I eat (minus the chocolate, maybe I should follow your example on that one)
And after a few rough days (see previous post), you seem to have returned to your sweet self. You are still stubborn and want to do everything yourself. You are still intense and constantly in motion. I still have to chase you to change your diaper (although at least these days you usually lie still until I at least get you wiped off-huge improvement).
But you are so vibrant and full of curiosity and joy. It makes me want to see the world like you do.
Slithering backwards down the stairs
Laying your head on my shoulder after you finish your bottle before you go to bed (thank you)
Letting go of things and standing for a few seconds
Loving babies, kids and dogs
Waving
Hugging (oh how I love this one)
Eating--not really a new thing, but you do it in a new way. You eat pretty much what I eat (minus the chocolate, maybe I should follow your example on that one)
And after a few rough days (see previous post), you seem to have returned to your sweet self. You are still stubborn and want to do everything yourself. You are still intense and constantly in motion. I still have to chase you to change your diaper (although at least these days you usually lie still until I at least get you wiped off-huge improvement).
But you are so vibrant and full of curiosity and joy. It makes me want to see the world like you do.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Hey. Where'd you go?
I think you're hiding. But I don't know where and I'm ready for you to come out now.
Over the last few days, while my smiley happy boy has been hiding and playing a trick on me, a little monster moved into my house.
He cries a lot. He wakes up crying sometimes.
I didn't know baby guys did that. I thought wake up time was happy, smiley, I love you Mommy time.
He whines a lot. He keeps his mouth closed tight (like maybe he's getting new teeth in the back?), and he says, "Mmmm, mmmm, mm, mm, mm, mm." And bounces at the same time.
I think he's demanding something. Though I'm not sure what.
He get's tired early. The other day I got home from my class at 6:30 and he had been asleep for half and hour! That was when Dad told me he'd come for a visit. I wanted to play with him anyway, but no such luck for me.
He's still pretty cute and I love him too, but I have to say that I miss you and hope you come back soon. I'm getting a little worn out and could use a squeeze.
Over the last few days, while my smiley happy boy has been hiding and playing a trick on me, a little monster moved into my house.
He cries a lot. He wakes up crying sometimes.
I didn't know baby guys did that. I thought wake up time was happy, smiley, I love you Mommy time.
He whines a lot. He keeps his mouth closed tight (like maybe he's getting new teeth in the back?), and he says, "Mmmm, mmmm, mm, mm, mm, mm." And bounces at the same time.
I think he's demanding something. Though I'm not sure what.
He get's tired early. The other day I got home from my class at 6:30 and he had been asleep for half and hour! That was when Dad told me he'd come for a visit. I wanted to play with him anyway, but no such luck for me.
He's still pretty cute and I love him too, but I have to say that I miss you and hope you come back soon. I'm getting a little worn out and could use a squeeze.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Mother's Day 1
You're sleeping. Again.
That's usually when I write, because if I wrote when you were awake you'd climb something, or eat something, or explore something, or attempt something while I was distracted.
Tomorrow is Mother's Day. My first. Because of you.
I'm so glad it's you. I'm glad that you have a smile for every stranger and face you meet. I'm glad that you laugh and talk with such delight to anyone who will take a moment to talk and laugh back. I'm glad you love exploring and moving. I'm glad you are starting to tell me what you need and what you like and how you like it. I'm glad you love babies and kids, there will hopefully be many more in this family. I'm glad you love the water. I'm glad you love music. I'm glad that you seem glad to be alive.
You make my life so rich and beautiful and full. I still can't imagine really being mad at you. I'm sure that day will come, but the feelings won't last long. They surely won't last beyond the flash of your beautiful smile and the sparkle of those big blue eyes.
Whatever it is you will do that will make me so frustrated or scared or angry, I forgive you. It is only because I love you so much that I want you to be happy and safe. That's not always possible, but I want to protect you. Forgive me for the times when I think I know what's best and I'm wrong, I'll come around.
You have a strong, independent, determined spirit. I hope I can teach you to trust your instincts to act on that. You have a tender, open, loving heart. I hope I can encourage you to continue to nurture and accept and love all the people and creatures you meet.
I love you Van. This Mother's Day I dedicate to you, and all you have helped me become and cherish during your short stay in my life. I hope we have many more Mother's Days to share.
That's usually when I write, because if I wrote when you were awake you'd climb something, or eat something, or explore something, or attempt something while I was distracted.
Tomorrow is Mother's Day. My first. Because of you.
I'm so glad it's you. I'm glad that you have a smile for every stranger and face you meet. I'm glad that you laugh and talk with such delight to anyone who will take a moment to talk and laugh back. I'm glad you love exploring and moving. I'm glad you are starting to tell me what you need and what you like and how you like it. I'm glad you love babies and kids, there will hopefully be many more in this family. I'm glad you love the water. I'm glad you love music. I'm glad that you seem glad to be alive.
You make my life so rich and beautiful and full. I still can't imagine really being mad at you. I'm sure that day will come, but the feelings won't last long. They surely won't last beyond the flash of your beautiful smile and the sparkle of those big blue eyes.
Whatever it is you will do that will make me so frustrated or scared or angry, I forgive you. It is only because I love you so much that I want you to be happy and safe. That's not always possible, but I want to protect you. Forgive me for the times when I think I know what's best and I'm wrong, I'll come around.
You have a strong, independent, determined spirit. I hope I can teach you to trust your instincts to act on that. You have a tender, open, loving heart. I hope I can encourage you to continue to nurture and accept and love all the people and creatures you meet.
I love you Van. This Mother's Day I dedicate to you, and all you have helped me become and cherish during your short stay in my life. I hope we have many more Mother's Days to share.
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