2 Years-old

It's amazing to me that my baby is two. What's more amazing is that she won't be my baby come June. There will be a new little face around these parts (I still am having loads of trouble wrapping my mind around this). In fact, my heart at once bursts and breaks when I think that Ada won't be my only child soon. Is this normal? I'm such a swarm of conflicting feelings. On one hand I can't wait to add another little person to the mix. I can't wait to see Ada as a sibling. I can't wait to cuddle and new warm baby and introduce it to the wonders I've slowly discovered the last two years with Ada. On the other hand, the thought of dividing my time further, of spending even less with Ada and Mike and art is a complicating and conflicting thought.

But back to my darling Ada girl. She knows her ABC's and can almost count to 20 unassisted. She can sing all the words to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and knows several other tunes that she puts most of the words to (Jesus wants me for a Sunbeam, Stars Were Gleaming, Mary has a little Lamb, Row, Row, Row your Boat, Elmo's World Theme Song . . .) She describes things with several adjectives, "Ada wants her purple ciucio with tiny, purple stars." Literally. She has said this to me on several occasions. She speaks in third person 100% of the time and often narrates everything she's doing or experiences. She mimics nearly every word I say. She picks up quickly on emotions. She loves to draw and paint and can do it for several hours a day. She loves Elmo. She seems to prefer book stacking to book reading these days (but perhaps it's because she's tired of our selections at home. . .) She can build the train track by herself but gets frustrated easily when the pieces don't line up on the first try. She loves wearing dresses and necklaces and hats but also loves to run and jump and climb, throw balls and play at the park.

She is a completely different baby than she was when we moved out here in August. In fact, I don't think she's really a baby at all anymore. This growing up business is even harder to watch from the outside. She's more and more fun by the minute (and often more challenging) but the phases pass so quickly and she's shooting up like a weed I'm not sure how much more growing I can take.

Can't we just put things on hold for a bit? A little bit? Please?

Ada, I love you so much my insides turn to pieces. You are the brightest joy of my life. Happy 2nd Birthday, sweetie.

Inauguration Day

The days leading up to the inauguration were crowded in DC. We went out to dinner for my birthday the Saturday before, and called half a dozen restaurants the Wednesday before that to get a reservation at a regular dinner hour. ("Hi, would you like a 4:00 or 9:30 reservation? Everything else is booked." "Um..." We ate at Tabard's Inn and it was an excellent—even romantic!—meal at a normal 6:00 hour.)

I got all sorts of emails about road closures and extra security measures to take (like, write your and your child's personal information on a note card and fix it to their person if you plan on taking them Downtown. Yikes).

The day of the inauguration, Capitol hill was eerily quiet. Either people were all already on the Mall by mid-morning or they were smart enough to sleep in, have brunch and take the day off. We were neither.

We opted to not leave the house at an ungodly hour and wait in the cold with our toddler just for a good seat, so at 10—and calling upon the strength of our pioneer stock—we left the house for the day with a tin of peanuts, a package of licorice, a PB&J and a few water bottles.

"We don't always agree with the President, but we always pray for him (1 Tim 2:1-4)"

I sort of regret not buying an "Official Inauguration" something. I'm so not a souvenir person, but it would have been fun to wave a flag or something. Right?

The walk down was a cultural slice of life. Being a non-ticketed attendee meant walking, and walking, and shuffling past vendors and closed streets and innumerable police men. The entrance at 7th Street (above) was close by the time we got there—minutes before the speech began. The group dynamic of being collectively rerouted was interesting to say the least. There was a collective sigh as people regrouped and figured out where to go. It was like being in a river of people. When a we came upon a roadblock, we trickled out in a dozen different directions and white capped on occasion. There were numerous frustrating moments when I questioned the authority of nearly every cop who said, "Sorry. This road is closed. Walk two blocks to the south and then over 5 blocks and up two more blocks and you'll be where you want to be." "Grrrr..."

Vendors lined the streets and back roads that snaked through the maze-like city. At one point Mike commented that maybe all this extra rerouting and walking was some secret part of Michelle Obama's Let's Move! campaign. I think he may be right . . .

Our view. I know. High quality photo.

We walked over 25 blocks down to the Washington Monument where we caught the tail-end of the inaugural address. It was actually nice to not be pressed up on by a thousand people like I heard the view a few blocks closer was. We heard enough, ate our peanuts and licorice, ran around a bit, took a few pictures and then started the mass exodus back east (when I swear even more roads were closed...) towards our house.

Hooray we made it!

Awesome mothering tip: give your kid licorice constantly and they'll be happy as a clown in their stroller all day.

 People have asked me, "Are you glad you went?" I answer, "Totally. It was a great experience...to do once." I don't think I'll ever have to make the trek again (unless I had awesome tickets and handwarmers).

There were moments that I don't think I'll ever forget, like watching the pride on a black woman's face as she glaced over a row of Obama Calendars, fixed her eyes on a picture of the First Lady and exclaimed over and over, "Michelle is gorgeous! Just gorgeous!!" I agree. She is. And I like her haircut.

Or the guy selling Romney and Obama condoms. Or the vendor who used the back of an old Romney/Ryan campaign sign as the backing to his sign advertising Obama inauguration gear. How resourceful.

Or Ada watching the horses before they took off for the parade. Or how sweetly she would ask for "More licorice, please." After getting reminded to use her manners 20 times first and "Ask nicely."

It was a 6 hour outing. Needless to say we stopped for a pizza on the way home.

So much trash every where. The can on the left is long before the ceremony actually began.

Inauguration porta-potties anyone?

Christmas kink

The day after Christmas we packed up and headed to Heber for two nights at a cabin with Mike's family. The cabin was beautiful and spacious. We rented snowmobiles that everyone was anxious to try the next day. We packed sleds and dufflebags full of gloves, scarves, hats, thermals, coats, snow pants and boots. It was to be 3 days of snow play, cozy fires, hot cider, games, and family bonding.

We arrived around 4 and had pizzas for dinner. After, the family all headed downstairs to play air hockey, watch the grandkids wrestle and play. Soon the kids were ready to watch a movie (or a moomie, as Ada calls them, though she's never sat through more than 10 minutes of one so I'm not sure what her fascination is...) I headed upstairs to make popcorn and before the microwave dinged Mike was carrying a crying Ada up the stairs.

She had climbed up to the second rung on the bunk bed ladder (only about the height of a kitchen chair), slipped, and taken the full impact of her fall onto the tile floor with her right arm.

(L) waiting at the Instacare, in the middle of saying, "It huuuurts." (R) Didn't hurt bad enough to keep her from using that arm to color with. She the bend in it? Her other arm looks totally straight by comparison.

It was readily apparent to me that something was more wrong that just a routine bump on the head. I noticed what I initially thought was swelling in her right arm right away as I held her, but had a gut feeling it was worse. I went to the couch, pulled up her sleeve and knew immediately her arm was broken. Her arm was very bowed and after comparing it to her left arm, I knew we needed to suit up, brave the snow and head to the hospital.

On the drive there was sang a few primary songs which calmed her down almost immediately. We drove 10 minutes the wrong way on Highway 40, too flustered to follow a map, before turning around and getting to the hospital.

Too happy to have a broken arm, right? Or just loopy because it was after 10 pm at this point.

The wait was more miserable for us than her. The x-ray confirmed it was a greenstick break in both bones so they paged the orthopedic surgeon to come and set her arm. We opted for sedation so we wouldn't have to listen to our screaming baby as they bent her bones back into place. She fell asleep, with her pants down, ready for her shot just minutes before the anesthesiologist came in.

Still coloring with her broken arm (after pushing the ER doc away with it...my little toughy).

They gave her a dissociative anesthetic that caused a temporary disconnect between what she felt and what she remembered. She tried so hard to talk through the whole thing.

Gradually as the drug too affect her speech became slower, more slurred, her eyes started ticking back and forth like she was in the car watching telephone polls zoom by out the window. Eventually she was catatonic and the orthopedic surgeon came in to set her arm.

I was at her side, watching the whole thing up close. Mike said he was surprised that the guys just grabbed her arm and with his hands straightened it all out. I found that particularly comforting, actually. Sometimes I feel like medicine is too removed from our bodies. Everything is done with machines and not much is left to intuition and personal care and trusting our hands.

As the doctor set her bones she let out the saddest, slowest moan I've ever heard, "Ooooooooooooooouuuuch-eeeee." I felt my heart break a little further every second she sustained her slow-motion-cry. As she came out of the affects of the drug, he began hallucinating. The anesthesiologist said adults who are put under this way often talk about strange hallucinations. Ada hallucinated about bubbles. She raised her arm and began popping the imaginary things. Minutes passed and she recognized me, wanted to talk about mommy and her cousins and daddy.

All was right. Except for her purple fingers. Oh, and her broken arm.

We went back a week later for the hard cast. Hot pink. She began crying the second we stepped foot in the hospital. "Gee-na car!" (Get in the car!") "Bye bye! Gee-na car!"

She basically screamed the whole time we were there. But she got a stale sucker and a teddy bear out of the experience so it couldn't have been THAT bad. Plus, now she examines her cast with pride every time she undresses and says, "Ada's cool cast. It's pink."

I asked her last night if she wanted to take it off on Friday. She immediately cradled her arm and said, "No take it off! No take it off! Ada's cool cast! It's pink!"

(With any luck cast comes of tomorrow!!)

Featuring an ugly red coat

The last few days in Washington were spent cleaning and packing and organizing so coming home from our holiday in Utah would be a pleasant, relaxing experience. Everybody knows you need rehab after a vacation. Somehow they often leave you feeling hung over from all the happy memories made.

We left fairly cold weather in Washington (with those mums still holding on for dear, numby life!) and arrived in mounds of snow in the frozen Utah tundra. Ada couldn't have been happier. I couldn't have been colder.

A few days after arriving she somehow got us all out of the house before 10 and on a sub-arctic walk around the neighborhood. There's a spot from one of our home videos growing up that has my sisters and I playing in the snow on the deck of my parents' Grandview home. My mom is playing commentator while we chase each other and catch snowflakes in our mouths. She says something like, "There's some sort of golden rule where the amount of time it takes to get ready to play in the snow must be twice as long as the time the kids actually play in it." I thought about it every time we got suited up to head outside. Did I mention that Utah is like an arctic subcontinent?

Ada walked off the plane wearing a sign announcing our big news around her neck. It was fun to wait and announce my pregnancy until we were there with our families in person. At nearly 14 weeks I felt super proud of our secret-keeping skills. It took everyone a little bit to realize what Ada was wearing. Seeing their faces was priceless.

I've been feeling relatively good, but more sick and tired than I did during my pregnancy with Ada. I'm sure half the fatigue comes from tearing after my toddler day in and day out and not having the luxury of sleeping in any more (oh the days of sleeping in!!)

We've drilled the phrase "Ada's going to be a big sister because Mommy's having a baby!" into Ada's head. I've heard her say it to her toys (and while she leaves out half the words it still never gets old). We're excited and hoping to build up how great babies are so Ada doesn't get too jealous when the little bundle arrives at the end of June.

Merry & Bright

Shout Hooray!

Before the month is out I've made a goal to catch up on our November happenings.

To kick off the month Mikey had a birthday (on Guy Fawkes day, or, as I like to think of it, My Foxy Guy's day). The celebration (rightfully) lasted for what seemed like a week. The Friday before his birthday we went on an afternoon lunch date and one of my good friends took Ada for several hours so we could have some much needed time on our own.

We met up downtown on our bikes and rode to our lunch spot. After we headed to the National Gallery of Art and stayed there for hours and hours. We quickly glanced over the early Italian altar pieces and stopped by the DaVinci before hitting up some Dutch work and then the Modern gallery in the East building. Seeing the gilded altar pieces with the embossed crowns and faces kept simple with crude features, I was instantly transported to our time Bologna where we saw so many things that looked so similar. We, once again, tossed around the, "I can't believe we lived there" ideas and reminisced a bit about what a year it has been. Then our minds raced forward, trying to see where we'll be a year from now: graduated, some place where Mikey is working and we're setting up more of a permanent home. It feels like we've been nomads for so long.

After a few hours our feet were achy and our eyes were tired. We walked to our bikes and pedaled up Capitol Hill, passed the pond, the Capitol, the Library of Congress and onto Lincoln Park, then home.

Tuesday was his actual birthday. Wanting to do something of a surprise for him, I had two plans in mind: making the dinner he has talked about since we got married, a dinner of appetizer-type dips and a variety of things to dip in them, and, knowing he wouldn't get to see Ada because of the 12-hours worth of make-up classes he had (Happy Birthday, Love, Sandy) making a short, simple video of Ada saying, "Happy Birthday Daddy." What should have taken 20 seconds took all day, and I didn't even finish. Between my time in the kitchen and chasing the little one around, it sadly didn't make the cut. But making its debut below: Our worst-ever happy birthday tribute video to Dad. 

By the time he finally got home, Ada was asleep and the dinner was set with dips and dipees and his requested birthday "cake" of homemade snickers. Oh this boy of mine...

I'm so grateful for my Michael Neal.

Halloween

Picking up where I left off, here's a bit of Halloween-ing (three weeks late).  To be fair, Ada still wears her "La-ba-ba" around the house, so we're kind of still celebrating over here.

Saturday before the holiday we had an impromptu ward primary/nursery party at the National Arboretum that was loads of fun. I admittedly scoffed at the idea of bringing non-sweet treats for the "trick-or-treating." I quickly learned, however, that they are way more awesome to a nearly-two-year old.

Ada had more fun with stickers, little toys, play doh, etc. and after actual trick-or-treating and seeing what a couple of fun-size Milky Ways did to the kid, I was grateful for wise parents who encouraged us to bring popcorn, dried fruit (yogurt covered raisins have for toddler-nirvana), clementines . . .

A reference photo, for those of you who need it.

Mike and I were invited to a Halloween bash with several couples in the ward. Everyone's costumes were amazing and I have never eaten such tasty creepy-looking food. You know the whole peeled grapes routine? It was like that but about 10 times better looking and 100 times more delicious. Mike was a little unsure about our costumes, but soon a girl walked in and said, "FRIDA!" and I felt totally justified for wanting to pull off a silly art costume.

On Halloween we had a particularly festive meal of left-over-clean-out-the-fridge stuff and then went to Eastern Market for the annual Hilloween bash. There were hay-rides pulled by big Clydesdale horses, bounce houses, face painting, balloons, and magicians. It was a bit of a mob scene, but fun to feel a part of the community. Ada got the only thing she wanted: A bright red balloon. It made me realize why parents wait in line 20 minutes for a free balloon—watching your kids light up is magic every time.

The red balloon and sharing her Halloween spoils with Lamby, Giraffey, and Sisi, her most loyal friends.

She trick-or-treated ("Kih-kee-keet!") at about a dozen houses before and after our stop by the festivities. We ended the night at a friend's house where we put kids down and had a little murder mystery dinner with the adults.

It seemed like Halloween lasted forever (oh wait, it's the middle of November and I'm reliving it again) but it was such a fun week of dressing up and watching Ada's stuffed ladybug-bum waddle around the house.

Bursting

We carved pumpkins last night while listening to Kate Nash's Pumpkin Soup (I know the lyrics have nothing to do with Halloween, but I listen to it every October nonetheless), and Ben Gibbard's Thriller cover.

I took over the small pumpkin, while Ada and Mike tackled the big guy. With a Sharpie.

Yikes. It was so ugly. And to make it even uglier, I added glasses.

We all laughed. Me at the pumpkin, Mike at me, and Ada at the two of us.

We had hearty bread, with jam and spreads, chili and squash. While I was washing up Ada and getting her ready for bed, I came into the kitchen to see Mikey separating out the pumpkin seeds. He left them in the big stainless colander and I assumed I'd put them in after running to the grocery store. When I got back the house smelled like roasting seeds. That Mikey. What a keeper. He seasoned them with a few spicy spices (of course) but they're addictive. Like, I'm contemplating buying another pumpkin just for the seeds.

Today Ada and I biked to the National Mall and went to the Museum of Natural History. It's probably our favorite. There's lots of space to roam and wonder. On Tuesdays the Butterfly Pavilion is free. We got our complimentary ticket and hoped in line before taking a walk through the greenhouse-like tunnel absolutely brimming with butterflies.

Have I mentioned how magical Capitol Hill is in the fall? Every time we go out I can feel my heart filling with grateful thoughts. By the time we get home it's nearly bursting. The ride home together was perfect. The leaves in the District are just beginning to change and fall. We pedaled up Jefferson Drive, along the Mall, and had the street nearly to ourselves. We passed the pool in front of the Capitol Building and watched dozens of seagulls land and take flight again. We rode up the hill on the grounds of the Capitol, and finally ended up at the top where a hundred tourists had their cameras out.

East Capitol may be the most pleasant street to bike down in the whole District. We stopped at a traffic light and waved to the police man parked on his motorcycle. We cut through Lincoln park on the way home and all the while I kept thinking, "Man I have it so good. How do I always find so much to complain about?"

Today was one of those days that are so calm and reassuring that you're sure something crazy is about it hit. I hope the craziness is just more calm perfect crisp Autumn days. Wouldn't that be wild?

Plaid and Pumpkins

Clad in plaid, we headed out Saturday morning for some pre-conference pumpkin picking. Shagel Farms was only a short drive away and while I didn't think Ada would get a grand snooze in the car I was hoping for a few minutes of shut-eye. No such luck.

But the farm. . . the farm! Picture perfect and tons of fun. Ada had a blast in the corn bin. We looked at the animals and gave the horses nose a good pat (and who knew turkeys were so terrifying!) She did a bit of the hay bale maze, took several plunges down the slide and spent so much time swinging she nearly missed the tractor ride out to the pumpkin patch.

It was one of those we-really-are-our-own-little-family type mornings and as we packed our pumpkins—two of the orange variety and one of the baby variety—in the backseat I couldn't help but fill with gratitude.

Then we got to listen to conference and eat for a solid weekend.

What could be better?

17 months, 1000th post and a giveaway

Yesterday Ada Lou quietly went from 16 months to 17 months. My girl is growing before my eyes. Nearly every time I lay her down to change her diaper or unbundle her wet, towel-wrapped body I marvel at how long she is, how much she has changed since that first day I un-swaddled her in the hospital to reveal a tiny, newborn body. She's becoming increasingly independent and entirely convinced that she is speaking to you in full, comprehensible sentences. She is still so curious, loving to explore with all her senses. She makes me laugh and has a perfect sense that she's the center of my world.

Yesterday also marked my 1000th post. I can't believe how my life has evolved since that Summer day in 2007 when I thought, "My life is about to get wild. I should start a blog." And so my first post was born in a half-packed bedroom a few days before starting college.

In celebration of my Ada and 1000th post, I wanted to do give away one of my "Bite-sized Bologna" paintings. To win, visit my Etsy shop and tell me which painting you would like. For additional entries, mention the giveaway and my shop on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram and come back letting me know you've shared. Enter before 12:00 AM MDT Wednesday, July 18th. The winner will be drawn at random and announced next Wednesday, July 18th.

Also, use the code 1000THPOST for 20% off anything in the shop through the end of July.

Via Muri, oil on paper, 5" x 7"

Happy 4th, one week late

On the night of the 4th we came home at about 10:30 and went to bed. It had been a long day of festivying and plus, Mikey had to work early the next morning. Our day had been full, beginning at 5:30 AM when Mikey got up to ride his bike up Provo Canyon with his brother. I couldn't fall back asleep, but it was fine since I had to make a run to the parade route and pick up the tents and extra blankets from the night before. My little brother saved our spots right in front of the Provo Library. We rewarded him with pizza money.

The parade was almost as magical as I remember it from my years and years of growing up sitting on the front row of the parade route, throwing poppers and clapping for the floats. My grandma would always bring chocolate donuts from Dunford Bakery and a few gallons of milk. We had a variation on the theme and ate chocolate banana muffins and chocolate milk while watching the marching bands, state troopers, old cars, dancers, floats, horses and politicians roll on by.

Next it was the BBQ circuit. Lunch with my mom's side followed by a water fight and then a beautiful party hosted by Mike's parents. It was so beautiful and festive, even the straws had red polka dots. After dinner, dessert, and playing what seemed like several hundred rounds of "Tah-rah-rah-boom-dee-aaae" we drove to my grandma's house for more dessert, more games, and more celebration.

See why 10:30 seemed like an adequate time to call it quits?

It wasn't until a few days later that we realized we hadn't watched a single firework. Oh well. It was a Happy Independence Day all the same.