Going on Vacation

Airplane tickets:  purchased and confirmed
Condo rental: confirmed
Hotel reservation:  confirmed
Electronic gadgets to ocupy children:  purchased
Electronic gadgets to document children's delight:  found
Gifts for people we visit:  purchased
Enough appropriate clothing for everyone for duration of vacation:  check

According to my schedule, I would be cleaning and packing for the next two days before we leave on Saturday.

Big problem:  our destination is Tokyo, Japan.

Flights:  canceled
Condo:  canceled
Hotel:  canceled
Electronic gadgets for kids:  kids are playing with them
Electronic gadgets for documentation:  back in the closet
Clothing:  in a pile, still waiting to be washed

As it turns out, our family vacation is the least of anyone's problems. (In case you're wondering, my family is in the Tokyo area, safe from the tsunami. All accounted for, but struggling with the current situation. And scared to death for what the future may hold.) Though optimistic when I first heard the news, over the course of the weekend, I've come to realize that the situation is intensely bleak.

We, here in the U.S., we don't get the full effect of what has happened. We have NHK, a Japanese broadcaster, through our cable. Currently, it just plays news around the clock, with updates and reports regarding the tsunami, the earthquakes, and the nuclear power plant. When I sit to watch it, I just cry. When things get bleak, my silver lining is always that all things end at some point. This situation in Japan, hower, doesn't seem to end. Each new day has brought a new tragedy.

I have learned that (since an oil refinery blew up) there is no gasoline, even in Tokyo. My aunt is facing empty store shelves and packages not being delivered. She and her husband run the cafeteria of a dormitory, and there have been no food deliveries. Adding to this problem are the rolling blackouts. Twice a day, for three hours at a time.

Add to this, the fact that no one had reliable information. If you have been trying to follow this nuclear thing, you know that everyone is saying something different. It is becoming clear that no one is telling the whole truth. At this point, I'm hearing a lot of speculation.

So, dear friends, pray for a miracle.

Our last visit to Japan. That's little Ellie and my mom.

Not To Get All "Princess Bride" On You, But. . .

Jake usually calls me from work before he makes the daring drive home from downtown. After I hung up the phone today, Ellie asked me why I always tell Daddy to drive safe, "even if it's not snowing or raining or even if there's no tornado?" (Obviously, I need to have a conversation with her about her fears of the weather.) I gave her a totally lame explanation, but I was reminded of some enlightenment I recently experienced.

I remember an incident during my late teens, when I was at the height of my wisdom and maturity, getting upset with my mom because she had told me to drive safely. For the millionth time. And I was, technically, an adult. Also, it wasn't like I was going to drive unsafely on purpose. What a stupid thing to say. I'm sure some of you have had either a similar rant, or at least thought when you, too, were a mature and knowledgeable teenager. I think my mom said something to the effect that she was my mother and if she felt like she needed to tell me to be careful, then she was going to tell me to be careful. She totally put me in my place, but I really didn't get it at the time.

A few weeks ago, as Jake was leaving for his daily brave ascent into the city, I told hime to drive safely. It was then that things finally clicked. I realized that my mom was really saying, "I love you," every time she told me to drive safely. You see, my mom being Japanese and, on top of that, staunchly Japanese, she rarely explicitly expressed any emotion. I knew that's what she meant because that's what I mean when I tell Jake to drive safely. That's what I mean when I say many of the things that I say to my children.

That was my moment of love and enlightenment on this day after Valentine's.

Some random but somewhat related thoughts:

1. I crashed my car a week and a half ago. It was during a major snow storm. No one was injured. I probably could have avoided the accident, but, in my defense, no one told me to drive safe before I left the house.

2. In "The Princess Bride," Ellie figured out immediately that the Dread Pirate Roberts was really Westley. I think that when I saw it for the first time, I didn't figure that out until he actually took off his mask. I think I was 12 years old, too.

3. When Jake says, "Honey, I'm just really full," it really means, "Honey, your cooking really blows tonight."

4. When my kids say, "I love you, Mommy," it usually means they either just got something they wanted or they are about to get something they wanted. Either way, I'll take it.

Mormon Mommy Blog

Ellie made a covered wagon at school today. I guess it's cowboy week, and every day is a different cowboy theme. When Jake came home from work today, Ellie told him, "Daddy, this is my covered wagon. It does not belong in Mommy's bed." Ok, ok, so maybe I planted that seed, but it was funny, wasn't it? (In case you want to dig further into the undertone of this particular conversation, read this post by a dear friend of ours.)

To get down to business, I am writing in response to an article by Emily Matchar that is making a ripple in the Mormon community. It is, in a nutshell, about Mormon Mommy blogs and some of the people who are fascinated by them. (I would recommend skimming this article before reading further here.) This article made me wonder if this blog here would be considered a Mormon Mommy blog. Well, I can definitively tell you that, after perusing through a few of the blogs mentioned specifically in the article, my blog does not fall into this category. Ha ha. Never in a million years would this blog fall into that category. Yet, here I am responding. Here are a few thoughts:

(1) The truth is, I do have plenty in common with the bloggers of these Mommy blogs. I am a faithful and enthusiastic member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I cook. I sew. I make my own jam and can it, too. I'm a stay-at-home mom. I have a super-human compulsion to be thin. (Or at least thinner than I am.) The huge difference I see is that in my blog, you will find posts that include the above-mentioned exchange with my daughter. Here, you will also find interesting tidbits such as my son's usual diet ('Ucky Charms, tofu, and snot); how not to potty-train your toddler (or how to find Judd-pies all over the house); and why camping is totally inferior to sleeping in your bed at home (sleeping on the ground, not in a shelter--are you kidding me?).

(2) I'm not so convinced that this genre of blogging is unique to Mormon housewives. Martha Stewart and subsequent wannabes have made homemaking an insanely popular pursuit. I don't think it's just the Mormons who are participating in this!

(3) Ms. Matchar makes a point of the fact that she is highly educated, feminist, and atheist, thereby distinguishes herself from the authors of these blogs. I believe it is folly to believe that because a person chooses to stay at home with the kids and excel in her domestic pursuits, this person is a simpleton. I know plenty of "highly educated" housewives, myself included. Feminist? Ok, so let's be frank. How many American women are there who aren't, in some way, feminist? I think the majority of us are going to demand the same pay as our male counterparts in the workplace. (Please no one post comments regarding feminist theory--I totally won't read them.) So, Ms. Matchar, to what are you referring? Are you maybe trying to say that housewifery is inferior to non-housewifery? Feminists don't engage in stay-at-home-mom-ing? I also know some feminists who are stay-at-home moms, so that premise doesn't work, either. So far, to me, the only distinguishing characteristic between Ms. Matchar and Mormon Mommies is that you are an  atheist. Let's be frank, though. Ms. Matchar is only in her twenties. She has plenty of life left for that to change.

That's my two cents' worth. It's late and I've devoted too much time to this post. Time to get back to making awesome home-crafted stuff. Here's a photo of my awesome kids.

Happy 2011!

Dear Friends,

I apologize for my long, long absence. I'm sure you are thinking that I have not been faithfully documenting my family's life because nothing has happened. Ha ha. Actually, I haven't been blogging because too much seems to happen. Usually it's mountains of laundry, which is intensely boring, but nonetheless, it takes up my precious time.

However, tonight, I am dedicating a few moments to some random thoughts that I have had. Oh, Happy New Year, btw. (See, random thought right there.) I can do this because Jake is out of town, my kids are, by some miracle, asleep at this hour, and I've decided to ignore the state of the upper two levels of my house for just one more day.

First of all, this last year has been (1) busy; (2) tumultuous; (3) intense; and (4) INSANE, to say the least. Lots of shuffling around. We went through a people shuffle (what a vulgar way to put it!), then a car shuffle, then a car seat shuffle. My dear family and friends already know that in the past year, my grandfather passed away. Then my mother, then my aunt. But then, we gained family members--like my brother, who now lives with us. We were elated to welcome Luella into our lives also. I should also mention that we also welcomed a nephew into the family (Jake's sister's son).  Despite the heartbreak of having to say goodbye to our loved ones, we have also had more than our fair share of joys.

Let's not forget the car shuffle. We went from this sleek and sexy ride

to this.

Yup. We did it. It was necessary. And we definitely fill it up. No wasted space here. As for sex appeal? Definitely out the door. Down the toilet. Dissipated into thin air. Completely gone. But where it lacks in that department, it makes up in plenty of other ways. Sliding doors. LOTS of space. Powerful engine and 4wd (which was awesome today when I had to plow through a foot of snow to park at Ellie's school because here in Denver, snow plows are considered a waste of money).

Oh, and then my Corolla (or as Jake affectionately called it, the Crapola) started giving out, so I forced Jake to replace it. This is what he replaced it with:

Same color and everything. I would say I'm surprised at his choice, but if you remember Halloween 2008, you would know that I shouldn't be surprised at anything that man undertakes. Anyway, it takes care of our cummuter-car needs, mainly gas mileage.

Now I will get to the car seat shuffle. Oh the car seat shuffle. Luella is getting to be too big for her infant carrier car seat. So we needed to bump her up to Judd's car seat. That would mean that one of the older kids would need a new car seat. I was hoping to put one of them in a booster because they are much much cheaper than another regular car seat. The problem is, neither Judd nor Ellie is tall enough or weighs enough to qualify for the booster, so we had to purchase yet another full-on infant/toddler car seat. Here's where it got really maddening. Since we were going to have to pull out all the car seats anyway, Jake went ahead and gave the swagger wagon an awewomely thorough cleaning. All the seats were in the house, and I decided to give all the seat covers a wash. This left all the parts of the car seats exposed. Judd ATE the styrofoam head protector out of what would have been Luella's car seat. He ATE it! Well, more accurately, he tried to eat it, then changed his mind. Well, what's the point of a stupid infant car seat if the protective aspects have been removed? Even if you have owned said car seat since the birth of your first child and had really intended for such car seat to be an investment in the safety of all future children. Argh!!! Hence, the purchase of the second car seat--still waiting for that one to arrive. Oh, my son!

Which brings me to this final section of my long and (assuming here) long-awaited blog. Random thoughts:

(1) One should never give my husband a high-tech gadget, such as an i-pod, as a gift. That is, if you intend for him to actually use it. After two years, I have decided to take back said i-pod nano and gift it to myself. Next I think I will give him a MacBook Air.
(2) My son, who usually doesn't talk at all, asked me yesterday, "Mommy, do dinosaurs eat poop?" I told him no. Then he asked, "Do they eat animals?" I said yes.
(3) It's really not nice to say, "Hmmmm. So you decided to go with an open casket..." in a questioning and sarcastic tone to the family of the deceased. Yes, that really happened at my mom's viewing. Upon reflection, I'm thinking that woman was probably still angry about being fired from selling my mom's house five years ago.
(4) Altitude makes a huge difference.
(5) Three kids, all under the age of 5, will not pose for a photograph, unless you hire a professional. Here are some of our attempts:

Whatcha Gonna Do When They Come For You?

My son. He has an alter ego. I shall call him "Bad Boy." My brother, he wishes he had an alter ego. Or many, since he seems to have a love of all superheroes.

My brother goes to elaborate lengths to transform into whomever it is that he is that day. For instance, last week, he decided that he was Superman and biked to the park in a Superman T-shirt and red cape waving gloriously in his wake. What was particularly awesome about scene was that the kids and I happened to be attending playgroup, so there were many witnesses to Superman's arrival. Superman's existence at my house is no longer a secret. Then, he decided that the bike didn't give him enough of that flying feeling, so he hit the swings. I wish I had a photo of it. Picture a grown man, complete with mustache and cape, on his belly on a swing at the park, swinging with all his might and trying to keep his body stiff and straight as a board. That is my brother's transformation.

Or, sometimes he surprises me like this. At a party. A work party. Jake's firm's work party.

I definitely wasn't prepared to see this last night. Believe me, this guy was ecstatic to be the Incredible Hulk for the evening. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to convince him to wash it off before he went to bed.

That's my brother. On the other hand, my son's transformation to Bad Boy seems to be less self-controlled and more spontaneous. Something akin to a werewolf during a full moon or Bruce Banner turning into the Hulk. I have observed, also, that much like these fictional characters, Judd doesn't much enjoy his alter ego. It's a strange internal conflict.

Here's how Bad Boy operates. Judd is behaving well. I will call the good Judd "Juddy Buddy." Juddy Buddy is playing nicely. He is coloring with his big sister. He is kissing his baby sister. All is well. Then I am momentarily distracted, only to have my attention acutely brought back to the scene at hand by either (1) big sister screaming and crying; (2) baby sister crying; or (3) everybody crying. Upon investigation, I discover that Judd has either (1) yanked out a handful of Ellie's hair; (2) sat on Luella; or most likely (3) both and also pooped on the floor just for good measure. Did I mention that I hate poop? For more on my sentiments on poop, click poop.

That was an example of the transformation when if happens quickly. Today and yesterday, I witnessed, at a slower pace, the transformation as it was happening. Judd is playing nicely. He is Juddy Buddy.

He realizes that mom is not paying attention any more. He gets "the look" in his eyes. (I believe that all of the Rosses know about "the look.") Unbeknownst to him, I have turned her attention back to the kids and am now watching this change take place. As his hand slowly reaches out, undoubtedly to cause mischief, I hear him say, in a low, growly voice, "bad boy." At this time, I see that trouble is brewing and I stop him in his tracks. Sisters are spared, if only for the moment. Bad Boy is not happy to have been caught before he could have his fun. He screams, "bad boy!" and appears to be ready to throw a tantrum, but then turns back into Juddy Buddy. He giggles and continues on his way.

I believe I have a supervillain on my hands.

Random Trivia:

(1) I think Maki has about 5 Superman T-shirts.
(2) Yes, Judd has pooped on the floor. Totally used my hardwood as his personal toilet.
(3) Jake still holds his breath when he changes the kids' diapers. Not that I know for certain, but I don't think he does the same when he uses the bathroom . . .
(4) The biggest, baddest insult that Judd believes he can inflict upon a person is to call him or her a Bad Boy. He frequently calls Maki a Bad Boy. I have been called a Bad Boy on occasion.
(5) My brother and my son don't get along. I hear them fighting quite frequently, and it often ends with Judd coming to me to report that "Maki mean!" 

All About Judd

Today's posting is all about this guy.

He just turned 2. He had the same birthday cake on his last birthday, but it was a mini bundt cake. He got a full size bundt cake this time. This time, he didn't hate the cake--he seems to have come out of his anti-bread-and-cake phase.

I don't know if it's the new baby of if it's the terrible twos, but we've had issues with this child lately. Here is a sampling:

I guess it's no surprise that he would mess with his little sister. He is, after all, his father's son. Here is Judd's particular brand.

So, he doesn't always do obnoxious things to her, but he can't seem to ever leave her alone. Not even for a short nap.

He always seems to be in her face, but it's usually something sweet.

He likes to be involved in whatever I'm doing. I'm usually doing housework, so little Buddy also wants to do housework. Here's a shot of some freelance pants-free clean-up.

If you're noticing the big-boy underpants, don't be too impressed. He's wearing those over a diaper. Yeah, another way my little guy is unique.

Tantrums. Now I have two kids who throw tantrums. They are both really good at the tantrums. LOUD. The difference with Judd, though, is that, on occasion, the tantrum will resolve itself and I will find him in the most random place.

The other end-of-tantrum nap shot that I have is not publishable, unfortunately. It's one of my personal favorites. He was naked and sprawled on the bathroom floor.

It's not just his baby sister that he messes with. He's also always in Ellie's face. Or pulling her hair. Or hitting her. Or taking her stuff. Nothing is sacred or off limits with this guy. He even takes Ellie's makeup and puts it on. It's a little startling to see your little boy in full eye shadow and lipstick. It usually makes Ellie really mad, but there was one time when Ellie and her cousin gave Judd a full makeover. Shocking for me, but the girls really seemed pleased with their work.

This shot is at the end of a long, long day with this guy. He would not go to bed. Later, we discovered this. This is Ellie's bed, by the way.

Overall, the kid is a punk. But he's so darn cute, he just makes me laugh when he does something bad.