More on The E-Man

The E-Man is a serious minded little guy. Still, he says some pretty funny things.

My kids think they can determine the age of a ladybug by counting the number of spots. E-Man, checking out a card I bought said, "This ladybug is twelve-years-old!" "Wow!" I said. "How do you think she survived twelve winters?" His look read, "Duh," as he said quietly, "It's just a card mom, it's not alive."

Again, on St. Patrick's Day, he would not be fooled by my imaginative mind games. Photoguy magically produced green oatmeal. E-Man was balking at eating oatmeal (like he does every morning). "Look, E-Man, it's green! Ooooh . . . it looks like green rice crispy treats," I said trying to get him excited. I got the look again, and he said, "Just because you put green food coloring in it doesn't mean I'm going to like it." Yep, five-years-old and already the magic is gone.
It's been mysterious they way I'm always finding clean pairs of socks on E-Man's floor in front of his dresser and picking them up to put them back in the drawer. One day, just after he'd dressed, he saw me returning a pair of socks to the drawer and said, "Wait! Don't put those away. I got them out for tomorrow."

Which I guess is kind of like my nephew's sentiment to his mom, "But, I just don't want to go to the bathroom every day."

Then, there is his honesty, like the other night when we took the kids to the movies I asked E-Man to slide over one chair so I could sit by Photoguy. He outright refused. Photoguy was touched. Later that night, he said, "Hey, E-Man, thanks for wanting to sit by me at the movies tonight." To which E-Man replied, "I just wanted to eat your whoppers."

Poor Photoguy. I say poor him, because he finally succumbed to all the strep throat that has been passing through the rest of our family. That makes this officially the second time he's been sick in the nine-years we've been married!

My Sweet Guy

Last December, much to our sorrow, our dear little nephew Donaven passed away of SIDS. My brother and sister-in-law decided that it would be nice to have the cousins from both sides of the family (ranging from ages 3-10) carry the casket. This was really a special experience for our E-Man who had just turned five-years-old. He took the job very seriously.
A month later, when our special Prophet and great leader of our church, President Hinckley passed away, I wanted to take the kids down to the viewing in Salt Lake City. I sat them down and talked to them about what it would be like, and E-Man, with a serious face said, "Okay, I can help carry." His childlike innocence about the situation touched my heart.

The other night, I was laying with him at bedtime and he was acting all silly. I decided to sing him a little song (I was making it up) that went "I love you better than . . . " and then I would fill in the blank with ice-cream, beaches, and other wonderful things. But, I wanted to really pick something that was special to him so he would get the message loud and clear, so I said, "E-Man, what is your favorite thing?" For, just a second, his pointer finger touched his chin in thought and then aimed directly at me as a shy grin crossed his face.

Wow, that was really powerful. Time to slow down and really cherish these moments while I can still be that high on my kids' list of favorite things!

Baby Steps to Better Eating

I've been a slacker about my family's diet for the past several years. I think it began with the incapacitating sickness of pregnancy #3. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that is when giving the kids a bowl of cold cereal for dinner while I curled up green-faced on the couch became acceptable.

With the first two, as soon as the pregnancies ended, I could not wait to get back to my "regular" eating habits. Vegetables become strangely intolerable to me when I'm expecting and I remember scarfing down salads even in the hospital, hours after my deliveries saying, "When has a salad ever tasted SO good?" And, feeling amazed and grateful for my returned ability to eat one.

For, some reason, after baby #3, it was more like, "Hmmm . . . I guess I just like junk food now." And, somehow we slipped from my first two kids thinking that a squirt of honey in a warmed glass of milk was a "hot chocolate," granola bars were "candy bars," and water was the beverage of choice to a steady diet of real hot chocolates, real candy and not so infrequent visits to the evil empire, McDonald's.

I've had a wake-up call. I'm so thankful that somehow, I was able to realize that my values about good nutrition are emblazoned in my core. What am I doing? Why am I feeding myself and my family garbage?

It's a culmination of research over the years finally being put into action. For one thing, I came across Layne, a gal I knew during the days at USU. She and her family are living on a rural piece of land, milking their own goats, raising their own meat, growing vegetables, making their own soap and otherwise doing things that are good for their health and the environment.

Reading about this flipped a switch inside of me. And, after Photoguy helped me to realize that we aren't going to move to our own mini-farm, I began to see that there are many things that I can do without being quite that drastic.

So, I begin down this journey to see what I find. I began with an inventory. First to go: Pink syrup in the milk. I believe in my core that red dye is one of the worst things we can consume. Further inspection revealed that Ovaltine also has red, yellow and blue dye. Goodbye Ovaltine, hello honey in warm milk. My kids haven't balked one bit.

That was easy, but then came the fishy crackers. How can we live without fishy crackers? Those will have to stay around for a bit longer while I give it some thought.

I've ordered a yogurt maker, which I'm very, very excited about (more to come on this). And, today, the kids and I drove out to have a look-see at Johnny's Dairy. We've been buying this brand of milk for a few years. For one thing, it's local. For another, it tastes so much better than most milk. In a bold maneuver, I picked up a gallon of raw milk -- completely unpasteurized and non-homogenized. The kind where you have to mix in the cream before you drink it. Pretty exciting stuff!

Next on my list of business is finding grass-fed beef. I found out today, it may not be so easy. It's not sold in any stores in the area (that's the verdict for now). I could probably buy a quarter from a farm, but, that would most likely require me to buy a larger freezer. Or, I can have it shipped from Missouri. More to come on this.

Photoguy promised to help me fence the backyard and finally plant a garden. I've planted two completely unsuccessful gardens since we've been married. Three is the charm, right?

Horton Hears a What?

I am a big fan of Dr. Seuss, but I have to admit, when it comes to this particular book - notsomuch.

In fact, I got so annoyed after a few readings, I actually gave our copy away years ago (shhh . . . don't tell them).

Photoguy wants to know why? Apparently, it's a childhood favorite to him. Is anyone else with me on this?

I just don't understand. What is the theme? "A person's a person no matter how small." Is that referring to tiny babies? Or, is it a metaphor for people who seem insignificant? Midgets? People with small voices? Help me out here.

Tonight we took the kids to see the movie. Yes, we are feeling better and I've even been able to cut the pain meds to only half the barely non-lethal dose to be able to swallow. So, we cleaned the house, visited the dentist, tried a new Chinese place, and took the kids to the huge Megaplex.

It is a delightful movie and very well done for sure. Plenty of silly stuff for the kids. Our viewing was packed with kids and they were all laughing loudly, so that proves it is a pleaser. I enjoyed it. Soph and E-Man gave it two thumbs up -- way up. And, Soph tried to help me out by explaining that the theme refers to Leprechauns. Yes, E-Man added, and the Leprechauns are friends with the tiny Whos. So, that cleared up a lot of things for me.

But, I still don't understand what is up with that Kangaroo? Why is she so nasty? And, why are all the animals so inexplicably bent on torturing Horton and seizing the speck? There are too many questions for me with this one. I believe even the producers were at a loss which is why they had all of the animals break out into "I Just Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore," at the end. I deeply love all other Seuss books I've read, even "Horton Hatches the Egg." Can anyone help me out with what I am missing here?

My Girls -- G and M&M

Last fall, I filled the role of "mom" to two extra girls "G" (far left) and "M&M" (left, next to "G"). They've been on my mind a lot, and I've decided to dedicate this post to them.

We met G and M&M when we moved to China, Fall 2006. Not by coincidence, they lived only a few buildings away. They were almost the only children our kids saw on a regular basis during the months we lived abroad.

Their father's work took them to France when G was very young, and that is where M&M was born. When M&M was one, they moved to Tianjin, China (again for their father's work). Their parents later divorced and said father died young of a heart-attack two years ago, but the girls and their mom remained in Tianjin, and so, we met.

I was broken-hearted about leaving the girls when we decided to move back home at the end of January 2007. It was particularly hard because their mom was in the states on a vacation that was extended because of a serious illness. I knew that those girls needed us.

I was pleased when, only a few months later, the girls and their mom moved to Oregon. I think being able to go to American schools is one of the best things that has happened to them.

In the Spring, they ended up at our house on a visit for a few days. All of the kids were delighted by this reunion.
Their mom also flew them out for a 3-week visit at the end of the summer. They spent the first 10-days with us and we were on the go doing every fun thing we could imagine every day. We even celebrated AiAi's second birthday with them. They went to their paternal-grandparents' home after that, but, when M&M developed the flu, no one in her large extended family (the grandparents are understandably old and in fragile health, but I couldn't understand about the myriad of aunts, uncles and adult cousins living nearby) wanted to care for a sick child. So, I ended up retrieving the girls, and cleaning up M&M's barf (a true act of love considering my feelings towards barf).

Several times, the girls would give me a hug, grasp my hand, or look me in the eye and say, "You feel like a mom to me." And, once M&M said, "If my mom passes away, I want you to be my mom." It makes me tear up even now just to think of it. A seven-year-old saying such a thing! Of course I would be their mom. In a heartbeat.

After the flu passed through all five children, we were off for more fun adventures and even a camping trip in Idaho (thanks mom and dad for helping me make that happen what with Photoguy working that weekend).

When the girls finally left to go home, my kids were devastated by the loss. Soph was all tears and E-Man was stoic until a few minutes after they left when he choked out, "My throat feels like crying," and dissolved into tears also.
Through a series of events, the girls were back with us a short time later. This time, for two months.

We got them mid-October, in time to celebrate M&M's 8th birthday. Let me just say a few words here about M&M. When she was only two, she was once left in the care of her father who left the room and came back to find a strange pile in the middle of the floor. Upon further inspection, he discovered it to be all of the keys from his laptop mixed with hair -- her hair, which she had cut off.

When, I picked the girls up at the airport in the summer, I took all three of my kids with me because, I didn't realize that I would have to take all of them through security (and take all of their shoes off), and wait in several long lines. Nor, did I realize that AiAi would jump right out of the baby backpack and climb up on the the luggage scales and do a monkey impersonation. All of this, just to go pick the girls up at their gate. I was exhausted by the time we retrieved their luggage at the baggage claim and after we had walked a very long way to the exit I turned and saw that M&M was lugging along a suitcase too. G and I had taken the only two bags that belonged to them. Where did this strange third suitcase come from? Trying to be helpful, she had just grabbed a bag (belonging to someone else of course) and dragged it all that way. Of course, I had to run it back before it was reported missing (or, more appropriately "stolen"), all the while with a baby on my back (struggling to get down) and one eye on four kids with strict orders to not move from their spot by the exit.

I drove the crew straight to the Dinosaur Park to get the day started off with an adventure, and before I had even checked in at the front desk, M&M, intrigued by a clock on the wall, had accidentally made the pendulum fall off.

While we were enjoying the nature center a few days later, the kids started throwing rocks into a picturesque lake. M&M decided to spin around with her eyes closed and then hurtled her stone right into E-Man's eye giving him quite the shiner. I think you can imagine the type of child I am talking about. Near and dear to your heart, but still . . .

So, it was no surprise on her birthday, while she helped me make the cake and I let her crack the eggs for the batter, instead of dropping one egg on the floor, or getting shells in the bowl, she knocked the whole container of the remaining eleven eggs onto the floor in the process. Truly, it was just hilarious, and I pretended to be mad in an overly dramatic way. But, now I wish I would have just burst into laughter, because for a brief moment I saw fear register on her little sweet face. I assured her right then and there that I loved her so much more than eggs, but still I wish I hadn't tried to be funny that way. Kids just don't get adult humor and irony.

Next, came Halloween.
One day we were driving around and "G" who was nearing her twelfth birthday inquired about trick-or-treating. "When would she be too old?" She wondered. "Well, I guess this might be your last year," I said. She seemed rather downhearted, and then, it occurred to me that this was the very first Halloween she would be able to trick-or-treat in all her memory if ever since she was so young when they moved overseas. "Well, probably at least one more year after this," I corrected myself.

I felt so privileged to take M&M and G on their first night of trick-or-treating. It was also kind of a first for my kids too. The true first for AiAi, and the first time Soph and E-Man could really "get it" since the last time they had been they were only 4 and almost 3 (we had missed a year of trick-or-treating the previous fall). We had such a great time with the kids getting SO excited for each new doorbell that I didn't realize hours of trick-or-treating equals enough candy to last through February until it was too late.
Next came E-Man's birthday, and a wonderful Thanksgiving at my mom's. We had so many adventures because I bribed the kids into sleeping through the night with an outing every week. Don't underestimate my need for sleep and the thought of being woken up multiple times each night by someone who is homesick or scared (it had been a problem in the past) for two months straight just didn't sit well with me. It's bad enough getting up with a two-year-old once in awhile (he's not old enough to "get" the bribe yet).

Somewhere along the line, I talked the neighborhood elementary school into enrolling the girls. I loved having them at home with me and we worked on reading and ABC's (with M&M) and times tables (with G). But, two months is a long time to be out of school, and all of the kids who came to my home were so much younger than G.

So, G got to do a school musical while she was here and we all had sloppy sundaes afterwards to celebrate. The girls got to do gymnastics with my kids, which G said had always been a dream of hers. The girls were even still around when the Christmas Lights and our town's elaborate Christmas Village went up in December. We had a lot of adventures indeed.

The emotions were a mixed bag when they left us once again. It was heartbreaking to see them go, yet good to get back to our normal lives. We look forward to the time when M&M and G will enter our home again.
The matching clothes were a gift from my mom for the kids to wear in the annual Primary singing performance at church. More on her love of shopping to come . . .

How Our Spring Break Began

Rewind to last Monday, one week before the week-long school vacation called Spring Break.

Soph: "Mommy, it hurts when I swallow."

Me: "Well, are you sick? Do you need to stay home from school?"

Soph: (Wild dramatic shrieks) "No! No! Don't make me stay home from school I am NOT sick!"

Me, figuring she wasn't that sick, sent her to school. She briefly mentioned the swallowing thing on Tuesday. Wednesday afternoon she said:

"I almost fell asleep at school today. Why is the piano so loud? Why is everything so loud? Why is the sound of you washing the dishes hurting my head it is SO loud?"

I felt her head and decided that she could possibly have a very small low-grade fever and figured at the very least she had a headache. One dose of children's Motrin later, and it was like the whole "everything is SO loud" incident never happened.

She never missed a day of school and it never occurred to me to take her to the Dr., so mild were her symptoms. I had one crazy of a busy week and wasn't surprised at all when I woke up in the middle of the night Thursday with a mildly sore throat and aches and chills. "I guess I have Sophie's cold," I thought.

I took some cold medicine, went back to sleep, and when my ride for the gym came in the morning I was feeling so fine I was wondering if it had all just been a dream.

Ten minutes into my workout, I realized it hadn't been a dream at all. I returned home from the gym freezing and sweaty and aching. Note to self: Don't workout when you're sick.

After getting Soph off to school, settling the boys in front of the T.V., and taking more Tylenol and Motrin, I spent the next few hours sweating off a fever in bed. The great part about my day was that Photoguy had the day off from working (after an insanely busy week of us barely knowing he was even in town). He took care of the boys from 10 a.m. on, and it was like a real mommy sick day. Moms never get sick days! But, I got a true to life day off to be sick. So, I rested and figured things weren't so bad . . . until I went to bed that night.

I woke up in the night feeling like someone had removed my tonsils with a dull knife, no anesthesia, and then cut their initials into my throat just for fun. See, it's not only kids who are dramatic about illness :)

I took the maximum levels of Tylenol and Motrin possible without being fatal and just lay there and moaned for a few hours. In the morning, I took more pain meds and Photoguy (being the awesome husband he is) bought some Chloraseptic. In the past, this spray has been like a miracle on a sore throat, but this time, it barely took the edge off. Swallowing was excruciating.

Photoguy had to go to work, but mercifully took the kids to his mom's (thank-you, thank-you mom and dad N!) since I couldn't even sit up, I was so dizzy with fever. I now knew one thing, this had to be strep throat.

When I was a kid, I loved getting strep throat. It never made me feel very sick, but I had to miss two days of school to make sure I was not contagious. One of those wonder illnesses where you can stay home from school and still feel good enough to play the whole time. And, I could even take bubble gum flavored medicine for a whole week. Yes, my friend, things didn't get much better than strep throat.

Then, I got it once my senior year of high school. I had a temperature of 103.7 and my throat felt about like I just described a few paragraphs ago. "This is strep throat?" I asked bewildered when the test results came back. Surely, I had to be dying, I felt so bad. And, so it has been, the two or three more times that I've been afflicted with strep as an adult -- a horrible, horrible, hideous disease.

I crawled out of my bed and dressed, determined to get a culture and antibiotics as soon as possible. It seemed the only road to relief. I looked up two clinics that I knew took my insurance, neither listed hours for Saturdays. So, I chose an after-hours clinic that houses my kids' pediatrician. Unfortunately, it didn't open until 10 a.m. It was only 8 a.m. and I bemoaned the two hour wait.

At 9:45, I got into the car and drove to be the first patient in line. Once there, I asked if they took my insurance. "We don't." The receptionist said. "That's fine," I said, "I'll just private pay, I'm really sick and I have to be seen." The receptionist looked at me obstinately and said something that I'm pretty sure is a complete inaccuracy, but she said it anyways, "Well, if you have insurance, and we don't take that insurance, then, we can't see you at all. We would have to have prior written authorization . . . blah . . . blah . . . blah . . . and a waiver . . . out of network . . . blah . . . blah."

Me: (incredulously) "But the clinics who do take my insurance aren't open today. What am I going to do?"

Her: "Well, M---- Clinic is open on Saturdays even though they don't have the hours listed."

The bright side to this scenario, I thought as I got back into my car, was that the expense would be less if I went to the clinic that took my insurance.

I pulled up at M----- Clinic and went inside. After waiting in a line, the receptionist said, "I'm sorry, but the Dr. is SO busy there is no way you can be seen today."

"What?" I choked. "But, the people at the other clinic said I had to come here because of my insurance. They won't see me either. I'm really sick. I have to be seen today." I could not dissuade him. "Well, maybe if you had been here at 8 a.m. when we opened," oh the irony. "Try this clinic," he said, handing me yet another paper with a list of clinics and addresses on it.

I could not believe that no one would perform a simple strep culture on me. Here I am, in the most advanced nation in the world medically speaking and not one person will take my cold hard cash to stick a swab down my throat. Are you kidding me? I was beginning to think that I would have to go to the ER (where, by the way, my insurance is accepted) just for strep throat. How ridiculous is that?

I arrived at the third clinic. The busiest so far (judging by the length of the line and the crowd in the waiting room). Instead of waving an insurance card around, I just said I needed to private pay. For the bargain price of $70 and after a two hour wait, the culture confirmed what I already knew - strep. Finally, at 1 p.m. I returned home to rest with that great little prescription clutched in my hand.

At times like these (when there is sickness in our family), I feel especially grateful to live here instead of China, or anywhere else for that matter. There is something comforting about being able to speak English to your Dr. and being familiar with the way things work when you are feeling sick. In retrospect, it may have just been easier to pick up some antibiotics at the pharmacy around the corner (no prescription needed) the way we did when we lived in China. But, I still feel grateful at times like these to be in my home sweet home, America.

I stayed on top of the pain meds all day, and even woke up every few hours in the night to take more. Still, but 8 a.m. (today), I had that same knife sensation in my throat and had to take a major megadose of Tylenol and Motrin and drink a cup of Chloraspetic. Still -- just pain and misery.

Later in the morning, the boys had fevers and sore throats. I called the on-call Dr. who (bless him) spared us the long wait at the after hours clinic and just called in the prescriptions for us. He said we should treat Sophie too, since she is the one who started it all, just to be sure the bacteria has completely left her body (otherwise it could settle in her heart and cause damage -- scary!). So, this afternoon, Photoguy came home with a big bag full of Amoxicillan and all of my kids could be heard saying, "Mmmm . . . bubblegum."

So, our spring break begins. With any luck we'll all be feeling better and ready to party by tomorrow!

The bright side of all the misery is: A sick day for mom (Friday), no kids during the long wait at the clinic (Saturday), two meals brought in by my mom (thank you, thank you mom), Photoguy has been the most awesome amazing husband waiting on all of us sickies hand and foot (thank you, thank you, thank you Photoguy -- you are the best!) and, we've gotten to watch the Bee Movie twice.

Here Comes the Sun (little darlin')

Yesterday, it was finally warm enough to walk E-Man to preschool. I enrolled him in a neighborhood program in January (the first time I've done something other than Joy School). So far, I have loved it. And, it's only about 1/2 mile away. A nice two-mile jaunt for me after walking both ways round trip and a good workout for the E-Man on his scooter. I tried walking him to school once before. But, his scooter wouldn't scoot through all the snow and since his school is in the direction of the canyon, we were blasted by a strong arctic canyon wind for the last block. Being the non-fan of cold that I am, I vowed never to ever, ever break my winter hibernation rule and try walking anywhere in the cold ever again for the rest of my life. Wow, that was cold! But, not yesterday. Yesterday was beautiful and signs of spring were everywhere.

For the first round trip and on the way to pick E-Man up, I pushed AiAi in the baby jogger because, well, why do we push kids in strollers and joggers when they are old enough to walk? I'll tell you why. For our own convenience. Have you ever tried to walk a half-mile with a two-year-old? It can take days.

On the way home, AiAi jumped out and demanded that he would walk. This kind of defeated the whole "I missed the gym this morning so at least now I'm getting some exercise" plan, but it proved to be it's own kind of magical experience. Though we moved along at a painfully slow snail's pace (at least E-Man could ride circles on his scooter when he got too far ahead), it was fun to watch my littlest discover every small detail for the first time as we went along. Our children make the world new to us again. Of course, he had to walk in every snowbank that we passed by. Why do things the easy way? Some of the gutters were filled with water from the melting snow. Murky brown water and lots of leftover leaves from last fall. And, he just had to splash through every gutter too.

It was hard, as a mom, to resist pulling him out of the gutters. On the one hand, he did have his rain boots on. Why do I buy my kids rain boots if not for the fact that I wholeheartedly believe in puddle jumping? I guess freshly fallen rain puddles are more my style than murky leaf-filled gutters. In the end, I conceded that it was harmless and a whole lot of fun. We did, after all, have many changes of clothes waiting in the drawer at home.

Then, we came to the grassy incline. AiAi ran up to the top, stomped through a patch of snow, and then ran down the grass where the snow had already melted. E-Man, tired of riding his scooter in circles, came back to urge his brother onward. But, in the process, he too became caught up in the small hill and started to roll down. AiAi immediately followed his example. Meanwhile, I watched on and actively restrained myself from stopping them. "Don't roll down that hill!" I thought. "You'll get all grass stained and maybe even muddy." I worried. "How can I let you do that?" I wondered. But, at the same time, how could I not?

Super Seven

I can't believe my first baby turned seven today. She seems so grown-up. She seems taller, more graceful in movement, more mature in her thoughts. She's been explaining the properties of water to me and telling me about Abraham Lincoln.

The other day, she sweet talked my mom into taking her to the dollar-store and buying a bunch of St. Patrick's Day decorations. She came home and hung them up all over the front room. It looks really nice. I'm so glad to have someone in the house who will decorate for the holidays. It's in her blood.

My little Soph also loves to plan every last detail of parties. When she was born, of course, she was our first. And, we were such eager parents that we had to throw a huge first birthday party. By the time she was two, she was already making requests, "A snowman cake, please." I could handle all circles so I happily complied.

For her third birthday, we booked a party room at the children's museum in town for a delightful princess get-together. I wasn't really intending to throw a big party every single year, but by the time she turned four, she was really into the planning.

At four, she planned a "heart party," hanging dozens of homemade heart decorations on the walls. We had heart shaped cookies, heart shaped pizza, and gummy bears (don't ask me about the gummy bears, it was her party). I got heart plates and cups on clearance after Valentine's day, and we played with pink gak and did all the games she wanted, and had a great time.

At five, she was on a soccer team and planned a soccer themed party. At six, she created a Hawaiian luau. As all this went on, I had two more kids and started to feel less and less enthusiastic about the huge parties every single year. If Sophie had a huge party, I felt inclined to throw everyone a huge party. And, it wasn't just the elaborate party with friends. For each child, I would end up doing the big party plus a party with my side of the family plus a party with Photoguy's side. Whew! It wore me out just baking that many cakes!

So, this year, I decided it was time to break the cycle. It was hard, because the parties mean so much to Soph. But, we were successful in having a fun birthday. Photoguy and I picked her up from school to take her to lunch (McDonald's - her choice). We made special treats to pass out to her class. The whole class presented her with a giant envelope of handmade birthday cards. After school, there were presents. Then, Photoguy had to go teach a class, so my mom and I took her to do whatever she wanted. We played at the children's museum, went glow in the dark mini-golfing, and blew a bunch of tokens on ski ball and other games. Then, we met up with my dad and the boys for a nice dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, Jeremiah's (her choice again). They even brought her a huge slice of apple pie a'la mode. And, there were more presents.

She gets cake and more presents on Friday night (family party) and more cake and more presents on Sunday (another family party), so somehow I think she is still pretty spoiled even without "the party." What do you think?

What Goes Around Comes Around

We have been so excited for AiAi to finally make his voice heard. He first started using words around eight-months-old, then we moved to China when he turned one and the speaking abruptly stopped.

When we moved back to the States, we started him in speech therapy. While it seemed reasonable to blame his sudden speech regression on the move overseas, that's also frighteningly similar to what happens with Autistic children. Better safe than sorry, we figured.

After months of no verbal expression, AiAi finally began to speak and the interesting part is that he used Chinese terms such as "jeguh" and "neguh" for "this" and "that," and "gei woh" for "give me" at first. Still, for the most part, he remained insistent on not using language. For a long time, he would never use a word such as "drink" or "milk," but, when thirsty, he would climb up to the cabinet for a cup and come lugging it along with a full gallon of milk into the next room and hand it to me. He could definitely get his point across. But, I was always bewildered thinking, "Is it really that hard to say drink?" Now that we've been home for a year, he's finally decided to speak (in English no less).

It has been so fun to hear his voice. Of course, the things on his mind aren't always pleasant. He's often heard saying, "let go of me" or "don't touch me" when he's being restrained from doing something he wants to do. More recently, his favorite commands are "give me a hug" and "give me knuckles (like a high-five)." I especially love the "hug" one. Sometimes, I'll be busy doing something and he'll sneak right onto my lap and wrap his arms around my neck. It's like I'm on autopilot keeping up on my task, until I hear that sweet voice say, "give me a hug." I just melt, I love it so much.

AiAi has also been our difficult eater. We just can't seem to find the trick to make him eat most of the time. Today, Photoguy and I took the kids to McDonald's. AiAi refused to touch his food. Suddenly, in a spark of brilliance, Photoguy grabbed the plastic troll guy that came in the Happy Meal and made it walk across the table, saying in an ogre voice, "You'd better take a bite of that food!" AiAi perked right up, looked troll guy in the eye seriously, and promptly obeyed. Troll guy flew backwards across the table. Every time AiAi swallowed, troll guy re-appeared from behind the drink cup repeating, "Hey, you! You'd better take a bite right now!" AiAi happily obeyed.

Tonight, right before bed, I said, partly to myself, and partly to AiAi, "I need to take a shower." Then, I started reading some ads. A few minutes later, a gruff voice said, "Take a bath!" I looked up to see AiAi holding the green troll, aiming it right at me, and repeating in an low voice, "Hey you! Go take a bath!"