My nephew, Noah, is a funny kid. He is two years of complete mischief wrapped into the cutest package you've ever seen. Don't let the wispy baby hair, round blue eyes, and garbled words deceive you--this kid is smart!
A few months ago, my daughter Maia and I visited Sarah and her husband, Adam, in Chicago. Noah was about 18 months old at the time. They had just moved to Chicago and didn't know anyone, yet. The one visitor they had was the pizza delivery boy.
Sarah said that Noah knew the pizza man was coming every time the doorbell rang. I thought that was funny but pretty hard to believe. He was 18 months old, after all. How could Noah know the pizza man was coming just by the sound of a doorbell?
Later that day, we had ordered pizza and were sitting at the table waiting for it to arrive. As expected, the doorbell rang. "Pizza!" Noah called out, clear as a bell. And I just about fell off my chair.
Pavlov's dogs aren't the only ones that can be classically conditioned!
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Pregnancy Cravings
Jeff and I are contemplating having another baby. Like most women, pregnancy is not my favorite time of life, so I have to REALLY want another baby to go through nine months of . . . well, you know.
But I miss pinching fat baby thighs and watching adults pull faces trying to get a laugh from a newborn. I miss the new baby smell and the tiny little feet. I miss the complete ridiculous euphoria I feel when I get my baby to laugh for the first time. So I think it's time.
Naturally, when I think of pregnancy, I think of being sick. And after four kids, I've tried just about everything to keep the sickness at bay.
I've tried indulging in my cravings. With Jake, it was imitation crab for breakfast, until a bumpy ride down a dirt road after inhaling half a pound of crab meat cured me of that craving forever. With Maia, it was everything. Food, food, and more food. With Lizzy, it was pickled ginger. And with Jenny it was Diet Coke. Some people wonder why Jenny is so hyper. Not me.
I've tried just letting myself get sick. I remember a particular time at Bagel Shack, when I ate half my bagel sandwich, threw up in the bathroom, and came back to eat the other half (much to the horror of my companions).
I've also tried medicine. Zofran is my best friend.
To keep my anxiety at bay, I'm on the search for the perfect stomach soother. But until then, I'm keeping my Zofran close and my Diet Coke closer. And I'm crossing my fingers that soon I'll be able to pinch that baby fat and cuddle that bundle--and still sleep through the night.
But I miss pinching fat baby thighs and watching adults pull faces trying to get a laugh from a newborn. I miss the new baby smell and the tiny little feet. I miss the complete ridiculous euphoria I feel when I get my baby to laugh for the first time. So I think it's time.
Naturally, when I think of pregnancy, I think of being sick. And after four kids, I've tried just about everything to keep the sickness at bay.
I've tried indulging in my cravings. With Jake, it was imitation crab for breakfast, until a bumpy ride down a dirt road after inhaling half a pound of crab meat cured me of that craving forever. With Maia, it was everything. Food, food, and more food. With Lizzy, it was pickled ginger. And with Jenny it was Diet Coke. Some people wonder why Jenny is so hyper. Not me.
I've tried just letting myself get sick. I remember a particular time at Bagel Shack, when I ate half my bagel sandwich, threw up in the bathroom, and came back to eat the other half (much to the horror of my companions).
I've also tried medicine. Zofran is my best friend.
To keep my anxiety at bay, I'm on the search for the perfect stomach soother. But until then, I'm keeping my Zofran close and my Diet Coke closer. And I'm crossing my fingers that soon I'll be able to pinch that baby fat and cuddle that bundle--and still sleep through the night.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Phone calls to God
The other day, Lizzy (age three) couldn't find her blanket. It's her absolute favorite item on the earth--she can't sleep without it and wants to know where it is at all times. I'm actually surprised that she misplaced it. But it was lost, and she was upset.
Thinking that this would be a great moment to teach her about prayer, I said, "Lizzy, Heavenly Father knows where your blankie is, and He can help you find your blankie."
This is where the conversation degenerated.
"Heavenly Father took my blankie?"
"No, sweetie, Heavenly Father didn't take your blankie. But he knows everything, so he can help you find it."
"Okay," she said. "I need to call him on the phone."
"Well," I said patiently, "You can't talk to Heavenly Father on the phone."
"So . . . " I could see the wheels turning in her head. "He's a pretend father?"
"No," I couldn't help but laugh. "He's a real father, but he's up in heaven so you can't see him."
"So I need to call him on the phone."
"Well, that's why we need to say a prayer. That's how we talk to Heavenly Father, just like on the phone. When you close your eyes and fold your arms, that's the same thing as talking on the phone to him. That's how you call him."
"Okay," she said, and we said a quick prayer together.
Ten minutes passed, and we still couldn't find the blanket. As I was searching the family room, I caught a glimpse of Lizzy. She had her play cell phone in hand and was talking to Heavenly Father about her lost blanket.
I found the blanket a few minutes later.
Even when you think your kids have the prayer thing down, you never know. Like the time when Maia said the following prayer: "Heavenly Father, Thank you for this day. Please bless that I can help save people . . . because I'm a spy."
Thinking that this would be a great moment to teach her about prayer, I said, "Lizzy, Heavenly Father knows where your blankie is, and He can help you find your blankie."
This is where the conversation degenerated.
"Heavenly Father took my blankie?"
"No, sweetie, Heavenly Father didn't take your blankie. But he knows everything, so he can help you find it."
"Okay," she said. "I need to call him on the phone."
"Well," I said patiently, "You can't talk to Heavenly Father on the phone."
"So . . . " I could see the wheels turning in her head. "He's a pretend father?"
"No," I couldn't help but laugh. "He's a real father, but he's up in heaven so you can't see him."
"So I need to call him on the phone."
"Well, that's why we need to say a prayer. That's how we talk to Heavenly Father, just like on the phone. When you close your eyes and fold your arms, that's the same thing as talking on the phone to him. That's how you call him."
"Okay," she said, and we said a quick prayer together.
Ten minutes passed, and we still couldn't find the blanket. As I was searching the family room, I caught a glimpse of Lizzy. She had her play cell phone in hand and was talking to Heavenly Father about her lost blanket.
I found the blanket a few minutes later.
Even when you think your kids have the prayer thing down, you never know. Like the time when Maia said the following prayer: "Heavenly Father, Thank you for this day. Please bless that I can help save people . . . because I'm a spy."
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Dora Hypnosis
Today, Jeff and I were watching Dora the Explorer with Lizzy and Jenny. Jenny, age 2, is just learning how to talk.
Dora decided to start discussing shapes with the television viewers and asked her toddler fans to repeat the shapes after her. "Rectangle"; "Triangle"; "Penatgon!"
Jeff, being the good father that he is, tried to help the girls learn their shapes by repeating Dora. Jenny and Lizzy, being the good little girls that they are, repeated him.
"Say 'rectangle.'" Jeff singsonged.
"Rectangle."
"Say 'triangle.'"
"Triangle."
With each word, the sounds became more and more monotonous until the girls were in a trance that rivals the best hypnotist.
"Say 'pentagon.'" Jeff said.
"Pent-a-gonnn" the girls droned.
At this point, I couldn't take it any longer and burst into giggles. I didn't know which was funnier--the girls repeating Jeff, or Jeff repeating Dora! Maybe there is something to subliminal messages!
Dora decided to start discussing shapes with the television viewers and asked her toddler fans to repeat the shapes after her. "Rectangle"; "Triangle"; "Penatgon!"
Jeff, being the good father that he is, tried to help the girls learn their shapes by repeating Dora. Jenny and Lizzy, being the good little girls that they are, repeated him.
"Say 'rectangle.'" Jeff singsonged.
"Rectangle."
"Say 'triangle.'"
"Triangle."
With each word, the sounds became more and more monotonous until the girls were in a trance that rivals the best hypnotist.
"Say 'pentagon.'" Jeff said.
"Pent-a-gonnn" the girls droned.
At this point, I couldn't take it any longer and burst into giggles. I didn't know which was funnier--the girls repeating Jeff, or Jeff repeating Dora! Maybe there is something to subliminal messages!
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Lizzy and the Bruiser
My little girls are 2 and 1. Totally different. Totally cute. Lizzy, the two-year-old, is a girly-girl. She is tenderhearted, sweet, and obedient. Jennifer, my little bruiser, is FUNNY. That's the only way to describe her! She is totally disobedient, bites everyone she meets, but does it with a deep guttural laugh and infectious smile--so no one really minds. Except Lizzy.
Two days ago, I walked into the bedroom, where Jenny and Lizzy were watching t.v. on my bed. Lizzy was whimpering, so I went over to see what was the matter. Jenny had her full weight on Lizzy and was doing the "dead man" just to bother her. Lizzy, between whimpers, cried, "Jenny's sleeping on me!" I, of course, told Jenny to get off of Lizzy and not to "sleep" on her, anymore. But it was hard to hold in the laugh. Who knew a 19-month-old could tease so well!
Two days ago, I walked into the bedroom, where Jenny and Lizzy were watching t.v. on my bed. Lizzy was whimpering, so I went over to see what was the matter. Jenny had her full weight on Lizzy and was doing the "dead man" just to bother her. Lizzy, between whimpers, cried, "Jenny's sleeping on me!" I, of course, told Jenny to get off of Lizzy and not to "sleep" on her, anymore. But it was hard to hold in the laugh. Who knew a 19-month-old could tease so well!
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Chuck it out!
Just watched the new season premiere of Chuck. Loved it!!
So for those who are not familiar with the show, Chuck is a smart dude but got downloaded with super CIA secrets by his roommate. Now he's a liability and two spies have to protect him. Sara is a hot blonde (he falls in love, of course!) and Casey is a Rambo dude without the accent.
Chuck unwittingly gets himself into a lot of trouble show after show until--at the end of the season--he downloads the spy secret update. Now he not only knows secrets, but he can access knowledge like (1) how to do kung fu, (2) how to box, (3) how to do acrobatics past a series of laser beams to get to a secret safe, and (4) how to speak a foreign language.
In the meantime, Sara and Chuck have a tumultuous relationship. They are both in love with each other but aren't supposed to have feelings because the #1 cardinal rule of spy is "don't fall in love."
Action, adventure, comedy, romantic tension--this show has got it all. check it out!
So for those who are not familiar with the show, Chuck is a smart dude but got downloaded with super CIA secrets by his roommate. Now he's a liability and two spies have to protect him. Sara is a hot blonde (he falls in love, of course!) and Casey is a Rambo dude without the accent.
Chuck unwittingly gets himself into a lot of trouble show after show until--at the end of the season--he downloads the spy secret update. Now he not only knows secrets, but he can access knowledge like (1) how to do kung fu, (2) how to box, (3) how to do acrobatics past a series of laser beams to get to a secret safe, and (4) how to speak a foreign language.
In the meantime, Sara and Chuck have a tumultuous relationship. They are both in love with each other but aren't supposed to have feelings because the #1 cardinal rule of spy is "don't fall in love."
Action, adventure, comedy, romantic tension--this show has got it all. check it out!
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Sticking Out in the 5-star Resort
If you ever stay at the Wynn in Vegas, make sure to wear evening attire and come with proper luggage. We didn't--and stuck out, badly.
On our way back to California from Utah, Jeff and I decided to stay in Las Vegas. We got a smokin' deal on Priceline, so we decided, "What the Heck? Let's bring our two-year-old and one-year-old to a five-star, five-diamond resort--the only one in Vegas!"
We got to the Wynn around two in the morning. Lizzy and Jenny had slept most of the way down, so they were awake but bleary-eyed with crazy hair. The dried chocolate smeared all over their mouths (falling asleep while eating candy will do that to you) completed the picture. I didn't want to haul all of our bags into the hotel for such a short stay, so I packed one change of clothes for each of us into a plastic bag.
We walked into the casino awed by the glitz--and surprised that there could be such a variety of short black cocktail dresses. Dressed in jeans and sweatshirts, we carried babies in arms through the poker tables, past the indoor pond, across the mosaic floors, and into the registration area. As we waited for the attendant to register our room, we were greeted with curious stares as the babies twirled and jumped from Jeff to me to Jeff and back again. I have to admit that I gave a few curious stares of my own to the woman with tattooed pawprints up and down both arms.
Finally our room was ready. We gathered our babies, and Jeff reached to pick up the plastic bag. As he picked it up, the handle broke, spilling our clothes out into the middle of the intricately designed plush carpet. An unidentified, stifled "gasp!" disseminated through the purified air. The woman behind the desk, with matching organza on her slate blue dress, tried to be helpful: "Can I get you another plastic bag?" Red-faced but amused at each other's trailer park aura, we just smiled and said, "Sure, thanks!"
The plastic bag she came back with was much too small to be of help, but we thanked her for the effort and made our way to our room with clothes in one hand and babies in the other. We were so embarrassed by our lack of class, we made sure to get a new plastic bag for the return home.
On our way back to California from Utah, Jeff and I decided to stay in Las Vegas. We got a smokin' deal on Priceline, so we decided, "What the Heck? Let's bring our two-year-old and one-year-old to a five-star, five-diamond resort--the only one in Vegas!"
We got to the Wynn around two in the morning. Lizzy and Jenny had slept most of the way down, so they were awake but bleary-eyed with crazy hair. The dried chocolate smeared all over their mouths (falling asleep while eating candy will do that to you) completed the picture. I didn't want to haul all of our bags into the hotel for such a short stay, so I packed one change of clothes for each of us into a plastic bag.
We walked into the casino awed by the glitz--and surprised that there could be such a variety of short black cocktail dresses. Dressed in jeans and sweatshirts, we carried babies in arms through the poker tables, past the indoor pond, across the mosaic floors, and into the registration area. As we waited for the attendant to register our room, we were greeted with curious stares as the babies twirled and jumped from Jeff to me to Jeff and back again. I have to admit that I gave a few curious stares of my own to the woman with tattooed pawprints up and down both arms.
Finally our room was ready. We gathered our babies, and Jeff reached to pick up the plastic bag. As he picked it up, the handle broke, spilling our clothes out into the middle of the intricately designed plush carpet. An unidentified, stifled "gasp!" disseminated through the purified air. The woman behind the desk, with matching organza on her slate blue dress, tried to be helpful: "Can I get you another plastic bag?" Red-faced but amused at each other's trailer park aura, we just smiled and said, "Sure, thanks!"
The plastic bag she came back with was much too small to be of help, but we thanked her for the effort and made our way to our room with clothes in one hand and babies in the other. We were so embarrassed by our lack of class, we made sure to get a new plastic bag for the return home.
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