Both kids have had colds and subsequently ear infections over the last couple weeks.  Buster was the first to fall victim, but Little H followed rather quickly.  Last weekend I was able to join Dan for the last part of his Las Vegas business trip.  It was our post-Valentine's, pre-anniversary trip, and it was so nice.  We went and saw Phantom of the Opera.  I've never seen the show before, but I must say, that it was excellent.  (Have I mentioned how lucky we are to have two sets of grandparents who are great about watching our kids?)

Anyway, while my dad was waiting for us at our meeting point to get the kids, Little H woke up and started crying that her ear hurt.  My dad thought she must have slept on it wrong, and asked her if that was why it hurt.  She responded, "No, Papa it's not my fault.  And also, my sense of smell hurts."  ???  When we got to the parking lot, my dad apologized that he was returning our little girl to us with only three of her five senses in proper working order.

During Buster's doctor visit we found out that he's actually lost weight.  It makes me a little sad.  He's moving like crazy, though, so it was bound to happen.  His favorite thing right now is the tub.  He slips and falls and climbs up and starts over again.

                                

He spends a lot of time there, for obvious reasons.

                  

I also wanted to post this picture of Little H.  I bought her a summer dress a little prematurely, and she wears it all the time around the house.  I have to hide it from her when she takes a bath or else we'd never get it washed.  One lazy weekend I think she wore it day and night for at least 48 hours.  In this picture, I told her to pose and I'd take her picture.  Doesn't it just scream trouble?

                            

On our way to Costco the other day, out of nowhere, this is what we hear from the backseat:

Little H:  We are not supposed to eat poison, huh, Mom and Dad?
Me:  No we are not.
Little H:  Good thing we don't have any poison in our house, huh?
Dan (wisely picking up on a teaching moment):  Well, we have some things in our house that are poison.  We have to be careful not to eat them.
Little H:  Like what?
Me:  Like the things that we clean the kitchen and the bathrooms.  If you eat them they can make you really, really sick.
Little H:  Soap is poison?
Me:  Some soap is poison.
Dan:  Eating any soap can make you sick.
Little H:  Then why do you guys always tell me that I have to eat soap after I get out of time-out?

Well, she got us there.  Tricky little girl, fooling us with her logic. 

And for the record, we have yet to follow through and actually make her eat soap.  Not that I'm against it.  Heaven knows it didn't kill me.

Little H has pretty much quit taking naps altogether.  I'm torn on whether to be happy or sad.  I guess it all depends on if you ask me at 1:00 p.m. when she would usually be asleep but is running crazy instead, or if you ask me at 7:30 p.m. when she's fallen asleep an hour before bedtime in my lap.  This has created a bit of a problem, though, because she always wants to fall asleep in the car on the way home from the babysitter's house.  If she crashes, then we're screwed for the night because any nap that lasts longer than 15 minutes will result in an extra hour trying to get her to sleep.  We used to just poke and prod her to keep her awake, but that resulted in a lot of screaming because when she gets upset, Buster follows suit.  Nothing will make him cry like hearing his sister crying.  It's a nightmarish 10 minute drive with two screaming loons in the backseat.

Our next ingenious idea was to tell Little H stories on the way home.  It works really well to get her imagination going and is noticeably less noisy.  Our stories always have to be about something that happened at work (i.e. the building was completely flooded with water, or an elephant was loose in the lobby, or King Kong tried to kidnap our receptionist), and most of the time we are saved by Little H in the form of a super hero.  Dan introduced a new villain a couple weeks ago named Frank the Monkey, a mean little primate who is always trying to throw one of us off the building until Super Little H comes to our rescue.  This is Little H's favorite storyline.  The only problem with this routine, is that lately, we are both feeling like our imaginations are completely tapped out.

Enter our new "car" book.  I found this cute book at the scary used bookstore down the street from my work.  This way, we can read to her on the way home and we all end up a little happier.  We've only gotten through one story so far (and I have to admit that I prefer Disney's version of The Little Mermaid way better than the original in this book), but I do feel a little bit better that Frank the Monkey has somehow not managed to escape the zoo for a record four days.

                                             

Buster's fourth tooth finally broke through all the way on Friday, and we've had three good nights of sleep.  I'm so glad.  I was getting desperate.  My grandma always says the best way to get the teeth to break through is to rub the gums with your wedding ring.  I didn't go quite that far, but was rubbing the top of my fingernail over that tooth several times a day toward the end.  He's so much happier now.  We are all so much happier now.  I'm actually feeling rested enough to get this post up tonight.

One evening a couple weeks ago, Little H and I were driving home from the store.  I was singing "Mary had a Little Lamb" in order to keep her entertained.  She interrupted me half way through the 27th time I was singing it (thank goodness) and said:
"Mom, when I get to be an explorer like Dora, can I have a lamb?"
"I'm sure you can have whatever you want as an animal sidekick, but doesn't Dora have a monkey?"
"Well, I think I can handle all kinds of animals when I'm an explorer."
"Like what?"
"Like lambs, and monkeys, and giraffes, and crocodiles, and leprechauns..."
"Wait—did you say leprechauns?"
"Yeah, like the kind we saw when I went to the zoo with Daddy's grandma and grandpa when me and Daddy went to see them!"

So I'm not sure what kind of weird zoo / tiny prison George and Judith took Little H to when she went to visit last April, but I'm hoping we can find it again next time we visit.  I'm always up for a good leprechaun zoo.

My brother and his wife had their baby earlier this month.  She is so sweet.  I forget how tiny they are when they're first born.  I always worry when holding other people's newborns that I'm going to hold them too tight or drop them.  I thought that feeling would go away after having kids of my own, but it doesn't.  Little H was pretty excited to see her new cousin, but she was disappointed that we had to give them back their dog when they came home from the hospital.  Apparently Atticus (the dog) is her "best friend that she ever had."  Poor puppy was probably so happy to get home.  Between Little H chasing him all around the house and his paralyzing fear of Dan, I think we completely wore him out.

             

The other day I caught Little H in front of the mirror admiring herself and making "snake food", which really just consists of filling the sink with bubbles.  When I asked what she was up to, she told me, "Mom, I'm the smartest girl in the whole world."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because, at church, I guessed that right now Jesus lives in heaven and I was right!  So that means I'm the smartest girl in the whole world."
We probably feed her ego way too much, but I really think she's amazing.  I guess everyone does that with their own kids.  Sometimes I really think she is a genius...and then there are other times when I catch her in the beginning stages of trying to fill up the laundry basket with water because she wants a swimming pool in the hall.

                                

And Buster is really getting around now.  He can stand up on his own, but he's still not sure about taking that first step without holding onto something.  He's nine months old today!  We took him to his doctor a couple weeks ago and he's finally withing the charts for height and weight (95 percentile), but his head is still not measuring in line with normal kids.  It's huge.  The doctor looked at the chart comparison and just sort of glossed over it when he saw how big it was.  I'm not too worried, though.  Little H always had a big head, too (literally and figuratively as evidenced by the above story).  They get it from their dad, who has never been able to comfortably wear baseball caps or find sunglasses that fit.  Buster has gotten three teeth and has been working hard on pushing through one more on the top for about three weeks now.  I don't think anyone in the house has slept well since the teething started.  In the meantime, we've come up with a new nickname for him — Cletus.  The resemblance is uncanny.

    

Starting with Thanksgiving, we went to dinner at my Aunt Jana's.  It was fun to see everyone, and it will make a good memory looking back now knowing that it was the last one with Grandpa.  After that, we went to my grandparents' home on my mom's side and had pie with everyone.  That was where I snapped this pic of Little H with her cousin.  I'm not sure where she's looking because I'm pretty sure I was the only one with a camera.

                     

That weekend, we went to see the lights on Temple Square with Dan's parents.  We went to dinner at Trolley Square where Little H had her first encounter with Santa.  She wouldn't talk to him and just stared at the candy cane bucket the entire time.  Finally, when he asked what she wanted for Christmas, she just pointed to the candy canes.  She was disappointed to find out that they were the "hot" flavor which was pretty much comparable to getting coal.  Luckily she would have another chance to talk to Santa later on.  The lights were very nice.  The kids were not so much.  We started out with two well-behaved children, one in the stroller and one walking, and ended up with two little stinkers, Dan and I each carrying one and Dan's mom pushing an empty stroller.  Ah, well.

 

At some point around this time I got this picture of Buster in all his chubby, naked glory.  You wouldn't believe how hard it is to bathe him and get in under all those folds and crevices.  My favorite is the fat that hangs over and hides his knee.  So cute!

     

For Christmas we went up to Washington to Dan's folks.  We got to spend it with both his brothers and their families.  Little H was thrilled to see all her cousins, and Buster loved being surrounded by so many kids.  Those kids are like little tornadoes.  From what I've heard the house survived, but I'm not sure what the total collateral damage ended up at (sorry, George and Judith).  Santa fortunately is a good friend of Grandpa and Grandma and was able to stop by on Christmas Eve.  Little H was so happy to see him, unlike year's past, and kept trying to hone in on all the other kids' lap time, even after her turn was over.  I tried my best to subdue her, but Mrs. Clause finally intervened and said, "It looks like this little girl has something important to say, Santa.  What's your question?"  Little H responded, "Why do you have a naughty list?"  Santa answered, "Well, sometimes kids don't mind their parents, or sometimes they misbehave."  Little H, knowing full well she fell into this category, countered with, "Well I always make my baby brother laugh, and when he cries, I always sing to him."  One of the other adults chimed in, "It sounds like she's pleading her case."  Which is exactly what she was doing because since Christmas, she's told Dan and I that she doesn't have to be good anymore because she has all the toys she needs.  We'll see if she changes her tune next December...


 
                            

New Year's Eve was fine.  Dan and I were going to go to bed early but ended up accidentally staying up until 12:30 watching a movie.  We were able to skype with my brother and his wife in Spain earlier that evening.  Those crazy kids were still at a party at 5:30 a.m.  I don't remember the last time I pulled an all-nighter that didn't involve nursing or bottles or sickness.

Yesterday we had a baby shower for my sister-in-law who is later this month.  She and my brother are going to make such great parents, and I can't wait to meet their baby.  She might kill me for posting this picture, but I think she looks so beautiful and sweet.  Everyone sees it except the person who's actually pregnant, right?

                                 

Dear Grandpa,
I'm so glad I had the opportunity to know you.  I'm sorry it has taken me so long to deal with my grief.  I feel like I've done everything to put off thinking about your death, but it's like a giant road block in my mind.  I've tried going around it, but the only way to really get past it is to push straight through.  Anyway, maybe if I deal with it like a civilized human being, I'll stop breaking down at strange times and places over stupid things.  So here I am, forcing myself to think about how much I'm going to miss you, and how I wish my kids had gotten to know you better.

The last time we visited, I was surprised at how you came and took Buster from Grandma just because you wanted to hold the baby.  I think you were a little shocked by how heavy he actually was when you initially picked him up.  I don't remember you being overly affectionate as I was growing up, but you were always very attentive.  When the adults were all having their own conversations, you seemed to always be aware of what was going on with the children.  And without fail, you would stand up for a hug when it was time for us to leave.

There are so many things about you that are a mystery, but I know a lot about you just by the way you acted.  Mostly I know you must have been a great father because my dad is also pretty great, and he has so much respect for you.  I know that my dad inherited his strong work ethic from you, and did his best to pass it on to us.  I must have gotten my dry (and sometimes inappropriate) sense of humor from you through my dad because I can't really credit it to anyone else, and I'm not sure anyone else would really want to take credit.  You weren't too religious by any means, but you had your principles and we all know that you stood for what mattered.  You loved family, hunting, the outdoors, and John Wayne, I most recently learned.  I'll never forget the handheld poker games you and Grandma played.  You guys never acted bothered when we kids wanted to push the buttons and completely ruin you scores.

I know your mind started slipping a little these last few years.  It was probably hard for you, and I know it was hard for the rest of us to see you struggle through without being able to offer much help.  On the other hand, I also noticed that you lost a lot of your inhibitions and I got to know a new side of you.  (Who knows, maybe one day you and I will be able to laugh about the time you ran away to Elko to win the poker tournament you'd been watching on TV.)  I feel very strongly, that dementia or no, you were very aware that you were surrounded by so many people who loved you when you passed on.  I am honored to have been there for that oh-so-peaceful moment to feel the spirit that we all felt. 

People have been telling me how lucky I am to get to my age and only have lost one grandparent.  I'm sure they're right, but it doesn't really feel lucky right now.  It feels pretty tragic at the moment.  However, I'm happy to know that this isn't the end, and I'll be able see you again.  I love you very much.

Love,
Megan

                    


Robert (Bob) Clyde Hadley, 78, surrounded by his loving family, peacefully returned to his Heavenly Father Wednesday, December 9, 2009 at McKay-Dee Hospital.

Last week on the way home I asked Little H if she was excited for Christmas.  She responded by saying, "Yes!  I wonder what I'll get!  I wonder what I'll get!  I wonder what I'll get!"

I was more than a little disturbed that my daughter wasn't taking in the true meaning of Christmas, so I asked her, "Do you know how Christmas even began?"

Of course she said, "No."

Using this window, I wisely stated, "Christmas isn't just about getting presents.  We celebrate Christmas because it's Jesus' birthday."

Her response: "Oh darn it (pronounced dawn it, and no I don't know why she tags this phrase onto every sentence), is Jesus in Santa's tummy?"

Dan started laughing so hard that I had to just drop the subject for the time being.  I guess we'll get another chance when we pull out the nativity set this weekend.  Although last year Baby Jesus kept getting stolen from the manger so he could keep Little H's stuffed dog company its fluffy pink carrying case.  Wish me luck!

I have a two-year-old adrenaline junkie nephew who is constantly testing his limits.  He is always climbing on things, balancing on edges and doing just about anything to freak out the adults around him.  For a while, for no apparent reason, he would just close his eyes and walk around and over and under whatever he came across.  His antics aren't without consequence, though.  He gets banged up and bruised often enough, but it doesn't seem to slow him down.  This picture I took over the weekend seems to capture his personality perfectly.

                         

Last Sunday we were on our way home from visiting relatives, and Dan and I were talking about something or other when Little H pipes up from the back seat:

Little H:  I wish I could go trick-or-treating by myself.
Me:  Maybe when you're older, but right now you always need a grown-up with you.
Dan:  Plus, you wouldn't know the way back to Papa's and Grandma's.  (Because we'll be up at my parents' this year.)
Little H:  I don't know the way?
Me:  No, you don't know the way.
Little H:  Only the prophet knows the way?
Me (Long pause until I realize she's been learning Follow the Prophet in nursery, and then I have to sing it in my head until I get to the lyrics, "He knows the waaaayyy."):  Right, only the prophet knows the way.
Little H:  Oh.  Could the prophet take me trick-or-treating?
Me:  I'm not sure he can, honey.  He's really busy.
Little H (hopefully):  But he could dress up like an alligator...
Me:  I'm pretty sure he wouldn't dress up like an alligator.
Little H:  Why, because he would have to crawl on the ground?
Me:  Exactly.

There's really no point in me trying to explain any further.  Sometimes the explanations she comes up with on her own are way better than anything I could do.  Can you imagine poor President Monson crawling around in an alligator costume?  Honestly, child.