You Can't Make This Stuff Up

Well here we are at July 31st and my 31st post for the month. (Did you notice I made up the two I missed?) I've never posted so many times in a month before. I also had more hits on this blog this month than any other month for the past year. For some reason you people kept coming back day after day to hear me blab about whatever I felt like. Joking aside, I just wanted to say thanks for all of the nice comments. I love to hear that you like my blog. It makes me want to blog even more. :)

After tonight I'm going on a little posting haitus. Don't worry, it's just for the weekend. I wanted this month to go out with a bang, though. So I hope you enjoy this FOR REAL phone conversation Steve had with a woman on Sunday night. I promise I didn't make any of this up.

***Oh, and for those of you who were babies in the 80s, Steve Perry is also the name of the lead singer of Journey.

The phone rings at 10:45 PM. I pick it up and look at the caller ID, not recognizing the name or number. It didn't seem like a solicitor, so I hand the phone over to Steve.

Steve: Hello?

Pause.

Susan: This isn't the Steve Perry, is it?

Steve: No I guess it's not. But it's one of them.

Awkward pause

Susan: I've been trying most of my life to find the Steve Perry.

Steve chuckles

Susan: It's not funny. . . . Well, I guess in a way it is.

Pause

Steve Chuckles

Susan: You're not a musician are you?

Steve: No.

Susan: Do you happen to know how I can find 'im?

Steve: No

Susan: You're in California, aren't ya? So you ought to know . . .

Steve thinks, "Ok, so I'm a Steve Perry in California, so therefore, I MUST know THE Steve Perry."

Steve: I don't even know if he's in California.

Susan: Do you like his music?

Steve: Not when he went out on his own. I liked him when he was in the band, ‘cause they rocked.

Susan: You must be in my age group then. ‘Cause I did feel sorry for him when he went out on his own.

Susan: Well, if you ever decide to give in and give up his number, give me a call.

Pause.

Susan: This is Susan.

Steve: Have a good night, Susan.

Susan: You, too.

Click.

We hope you find what you're looking for, Susan in Atlanta.

More Thoughts on Privacy

Thanks for all of the comments!! I was glad to hear good, reasonable opinions for both sides of the private/public blog issue. I got the impression, though, that most of you have private blogs just because you want your privacy -- not necessarily because you're afraid of weirdos. I guess that never occurred to me because I'm a pretty open person. Like, really open. If you pick the right topic, I'll talk your ear off and probably tell you more about myself than you'd like to know. (Thus, I'm really bad at keeping secrets, but if I tell just one person, I'm OK. Luckily Steve is a vault. Or forgetful. Ya, he probably forgets. We're a great pair.)

So, for now I decided to keep my blog public, but try to keep it as separate from my food blog as I can. I may either move this blog to Wordpress or have a separate Blogger account for Perrys' Plate. Logging in and out of Blogger for two different accounts might drive me batty, though. Sigh. I'll think about it some more.

Oh, and one final matter of business and also a case-in-point for my argument against private blogs...

BETH?? Are you there, Beth??

You've told me a couple times that you don't have my email address to invite me to your newly private blog. Because I can't get to your profile anymore, and I don't have your email address, I couldn't send you mine. The only way I can contact you is posting on my own blog. (Sorry if I'm embarrassing you.) So . . . I'd love an invite! And I'm sorry again for forgetting to leave a comment before your blog went underground. To find my email address . . .

Click over to my food blog from the "What's on the Plate?" widget on the right.
Click on the "Contact" tab at the top.
Voila, there's my addy.

I'm sure you won't mind a couple of clicks to find my address because I'll be clicking on your blog more than I ever did when it was public. *wink*

Thoughts on Privacy

I've been thinking a lot about privacy and blogs lately. No, I'm not going to make my blog private (. . . yet. But the thought has crossed my mind.)

Over the past year I've gotten a lot of traffic to my personal blog from my food blog via my profile. I've taken my personal blog off my profile, then put it back on, then off, then on, then off, then back on today. I can't decide if I should be paranoid that some random person searching for Applebee's Fiesta Lime Chicken (that's the most popular Google hit) wanders over through my profile, clicks on my personal blog and sees pictures of my kids. Most people who wander over are probably harmless, I'm sure. I can't imagine many pedophiles search for recipes online.

I'm usually good about not giving out exact locations or any identifying information about us. It helps having a Google-proof husband, too. (Try googling "Steve Perry" and see if you find him. I dare you.) And I think of the thousands, if not millions of blogs out there, many of which are family-oriented. With all those blogs out there is someone really going to search through my blog to find a slip-up or honestly try to find me? I doubt anyone would be able to find my blog if they happened to find a piece of garbage with my name on it, either. I've also had problems with spammers leaving comments, but all they want to do is advertise some lame website. Putting comment moderation into place elminated those entirely. But still . . . the unknowns sort of eat at my brain.

Private blogs drive me crazy, though -- mostly because you have to manually check them instead of letting a feed reader do the work. (I have over 200 subscriptions in my reader. There's no way I would be clicking on all those sites everyday if I had to.) And half of the private blogs that I have in my bookmark folder aren't even updated more than once every few months.

I guess what I'm trying to say, is . . . I want your opinions. If you have a private blog, why did you do it? Do you really feel threatened? If you're blog isn't private, do you feel completely comfortable that way? Why?

Thanks Honey

Dear Steve,

Thanks for letting me sleep until 8 this morning. I promise I wasn't being lazy. A gigantic T-Rex with razor-sharp teeth was chasing me up a mountain, and I needed to reach the top to go through the exit portal back into our dimension. I could have hidden from him, but in his eyes, I had a fluorescent green aura around me. Luckily I made it in time.

Thanks for bringing me breakfast, too. I love toast and eggs -- especially when someone else makes them for me.

It was because of you I was in a chipper mood and didn't completely lose my head when Sophie gave Ivy her first bloody nose at 8:30 AM. I ran upstairs to grab the laundry basket just in time to hear frantic crying. I should have seen it coming when Sophie fanned me with her puzzle board right before I went upstairs. I guess she tried to cool Ivy off, too.

Now there are blood stains next to the sippy cup stains on the couch -- right next to the ginormous hole that we constantly try to cover up. Don't worry, we'll make that poor couch last a couple more years.

I just remembered that you were going to call me this afternoon, and that I need to turn my phone back on. It's been off since last night.

Love you,
Me

Mother-in-Training

This is something that a lot of toddlers do, I'm sure. What is funny to me is how she holds the blanket at the end -- just like mama. She's a very observant little girl. :)

(Sometime around 7 AM, when she usually wakes up.)

I Feel Like a Beatnik

After nearly a year of having bent, broken, and/or duct-taped glasses, I finally got a new pair. Now you're either going to love them like I do or think I'm nuts. Yes, they're loud, but the girl at the store talked me into getting them. They were initially my favorite, but I chose another pair that weren't quite as cooky. She told me I should get the black and white ones instead because the shape of the ones I picked out wasn't right for my face. I really liked her. I appreciated her giving me her opinion, and because she'd worked there for 10 years, I figured she knew what she was talking about.

Ivy's "just woke up" face.

This one's for you, Mary. I think new glasses, as well as new hairdos require a kiss-face pose. And no, that's not a mole on my chin. it's chocolate. From making these.

Saturday Part 2

I'm guessing no one noticed, but I missed another day yesterday. Only two so far, but luckily the month is almost over, and I can go back to posting once a week. OK, maybe twice a week. Posting every day has urged me to post a lot of things that I might not normally write about (I hope you enjoyed the black poop!), but I have to draw the line somewhere. Like when it's 11:30 at night, I wake up from falling asleep trying to put Sophie to bed ("Mommy nay-down! Mommy nay-down! aka "Mommy lay down!"), and I have to choose between blogging and cleaning up my kitchen because if I don't start off clean in the morning, I get further behind and cranky. If I do both, I go to bed around 12:30. Sorry, but blogging gets the boot.

Anyway, after our Pioneer Day BBQ and some extra long napping, we took a picnic dinner up to the temple and ate on the grass. It's something we love doing together. And Sophie loves to see the temple.

Hmm. . . I'm gnawing on a carrot and you have a strawberry.

Trade me!

Because I can't remember the last time I posted a picture of Steve by himself. I love it when he keeps his facial hair under control. I guess all of my complaining about being gauged in the face is finally paying off. Muah. Thanks hon. :)

Pioneers and Coconuts

If you live outside of Utah, you really have to make an effort to celebrate Pioneer Day. There isn't a day off of work, a parade, or fireworks. I actually forgot yesterday was Pioneer Day until my grandma called me and told me about the BBQ they were having with my brother and his family. I suppose there are a couple of perks of living in Utah. :)

Every year our stake throws a Pioneer Day BBQ. This year there was lots of food and games for the kids. Like a ring toss. Unless you're two, then it's "put the ring over the horse's head".

"Coo Gow" (Cool Girl)

We're lucky to have a Samoan ward in our stake, so every stake activity has some island flavor. Pioneer Day shouldn't be complete without cutting coconuts with gigantic scary knives and drinking some hot coconut rice drink stuff. (kind of strange)

After they whacked open some coconuts, one of the Samoan missionaries straddled a wooden bench with a long, metal thing on the end and scraped out the flesh from inside.

Oh, and I finally got a decent family picture of us. The girls were tired, but at least we were all looking at the camera at the same time.

Tidbits

I think it's easier to post everyday when I get on and just start spewing things that come to my head.

A really cool thing happened today.

Eating a half a pound of blueberries = black poop. (No, that's not the cool thing. You have to click on the link.)

Sophie's latest creations include milk-soaked Cheerios on banana bread and yogurt-covered blueberries on toast.

My bedroom smells like "fried". Thanks, neighbors.

... or my internet must be down.

Happy Pioneer Day!

Forgiveness

A couple of months ago we had a little episode (multiple times a day, usually) where Sophie smacked Ivy in the face with something. I usually sent Sophie upstairs to her room for a couple of minutes and then I would bring Ivy up and have Sophie apologize to her and give her a kiss. This time I sent her up the stairs and she stopped halfway, sat down, and continued to cry. I picked up Ivy, who stopped crying soon after, and walked over to the stairs. When I got within a foot of Sophie, I glanced over at Ivy and she was smiling and reaching for her. Sophie said, "Sa-wee Ivy", kissed her on the head, and then we all went back to what we were doing.

Ivy's reaction really stuck with me. Before Sophie even apologized, and while her eyes were still red from crying, she had forgiven her sister. I was still upset, and I wasn't the one who got smacked in the face.

I think about this little incident sometimes and the counsel of the Savior to be as a little child -- humble, meek, forgiving. I certainly have a lot to work on, and I'm glad that my kids remind me that I need to be more Christlike.

Collages

I don't take enough pictures on Sunday morning when the girls are dressed for church. It's usually a mad rush out the door

I was messing around in Picasa today, and I wondered how a cropped picture pile collage would look in a blog post. Now I know. I kinda like it.

I also wonder if I could make a header out of a Picasa collage, because I've been itching to change my header. I love that picture of the two of them, but Ivy is leaps and bounds from that motionless lump in a blanket.

Totally unrelated -- I was summoned for jury duty. Thanks to Ivy, I can postpone for year because I'm nursing. Hopefully I won't be nursing her a year from now, but if she has her way I probably will be. Sigh.

Tidbits

I hesitate saying this publicly, but I'll do it anyway. I'm getting tired of pink. Getting the girls dressed in the morning is more often than not deciding what shade of pink to put on them. When I buy clothes for them, I gravitate toward pink because it's cute. And I know it'll match other things they have. But day after day of pepto-colored clothing is starting to wear on me. Don't get me wrong, I won't hate pink forever. I just need a break. Or a baby boy. No, just a break will do for now.

We picked up a bed off of Craigslist last night (Solid oak for $40. Sweet.) for Sophie and have yet to get a mattress or bedding for it. I've been looking around the last few days, but due to my temporary aversion to pink, I'm getting frustrated. I can't seem to find something that's relatively cheap, doesn't have Hannah Montana or Disney Princesses, isn't prissy looking or entirely pink. I ordered a set today, so I'll let you know if it flies.

Steve's officially in the clinic!

My wedding ring is giving me a weird eczema-like rash on my fingers. I haven't worn it since the 4th of July and it seems to be doing better.

Sophie dropped a bunch of raisins on the kitchen floor this afternoon and said, "Eh, Heck!" (translation: What the heck?) She also said, "Dane-it" (Dangit) yesterday, too. I'm glad I don't usually swear (unless I'm really mad), or else this could be a lot worse.

We ate a lot of popsicles when it was hot. Sophie liked the coconut-lime ones. It's not supposed to get above 75 until Saturday so Mom's a happy camper.

Culinary Creativity?

Sophie was snacking on some blueberries one afternoon when suddenly she goes,

"O's! O's!"

"You want some O's?" I asked.

"Ya. In white bowl," she said.

I put some Cheerios in a clear (she calls it white) bowl and set it on the table next to her blueberries.

"Milk! Milk!"

"You want milk in it?"

"Ya."

I pour a little milk onto her Cheerios then she immediately transferred all of her blueberries from her purple bowl to her "white" bowl.

Not a bad idea. Although, I was surprised she thought of the Cheerios while she was eating the blueberries and not vice versa.

Another concoction of hers (her first, actually) is mixing applesauce and yogurt together. Now she asks for it together, "applesauce-yogurt". One day she mixed THAT with her oatmeal. Um. . . weird. She at it all, though.

I can't say it doesn't excite me that she plays with her food like this. ;)

Entertain Yourselves, Please

When I was pregnant with Ivy people would say, "Oh, you'll love having two so close in age! They'll play together all the time and be the best of friends!" All of the smacks in the face, being dragged across the floor, having toys taken away, and getting hourly pokes in the eyes (all Sophie's doing, although Ivy's getting pretty good at gauging eyes) made me wonder if the girls would ever play together, much less be best friends.

Yes, yes, I know. Patience. Now that Ivy can sit up by herself and scoot around a bit (she started going forward today), she's more than a doll to Sophie.

Sophie's favorite thing to do is take the bucket full of random puzzle pieces and blocks and dump it in Ivy's lap. It keeps Ivy happy, and I'm allowed to leave the room for a few minutes without her crying.

Girls Day at the Pool

We had a fun little afternoon at our friends house last week! The girls were darling sitting all in a row on the pool. Who needs boys?

Josie, Hallie, and Sophie. Such little hotties.

Sophie had her first Otter Pop that day. Most of it ended up on the lawn or down the front of her swimsuit.

Sometimes moms show up on the blog once in a while. Just sometimes.

As soon as I typed the title, I remembered that little Gavin was there, too. One man in a sea of women.

Ivy and Gavin are just a month apart. Ivy's older, but you'd probably never guess. Just a short time ago they were still just little buns in the oven. . .

Heather Webb and me, October of last year.

Aw, Man . . .

I totally dropped the ball. I had a lot on my mind yesterday and blogging totally slipped my mind. I'll post twice today to make up for it. Fair?

Some of you have been asking about Sophie. She still has a couple of blisters on her feet, but otherwise, she's back to her "normal" self. . .

Clap

Ivy started clapping last week. She does it on command now, and we don't even clap ourselves to show her. I love it when they reach these stages because it's like, "Wow, she understands!", but we don't have to spell anything or make up different names for stuff yet. "Cold white stuff" (ice cream) and "P-O-P-C-O-R-N" are the most popular with Sophie. Not that we don't give them to her, I just don't want her hearing me ask Steve if he wants ice cream or feels like popping popcorn in case he says no. Once she hears it, it's all over.

OK, here's my little clapping pixie . . .

She also says, "Babababa" sometimes if we say it to her. That's what I was doing, too.

Snowmen Need Accessories, Too

Play dough time (and coloring, too) sometimes becomes "tell mom what I want and she'll make it".

Orange Snowman . . . check.
Pink eyes . . . check.
Pink necklace . . . check.
Pink heart on the necklace . . . check.

I wonder if this snowman has a date?

Nope, just going to church with the other snowmen.

(P.S. There was a church-shaped cookie cutter along with an egg, a chick, and a rabbit in the Easter set I got a while back. It's good to know that commercialism hasn't completely taken over. . . yet.)

Alert

I went to the bank recently, and for the first time didn't have Sophie strapped in a stroller. (Brave, I know.) As I stood in line, she climbed on the soft chairs and played quietly -- until the wait became more than she had patience for (longer than 4 minutes). Suddenly she took off running with a little shriek to the other side of the bank. Luckily there weren't too many people in there and they all smiled sympathetically as I took off after her, leaving Ivy's carrier to hold my place in line. I wasn't too surprised. She does this everywhere we go.

An older woman (like 90s old), who had been watching the whole thing asked me how old Sophie was. I told her she was two. Then she said,

"She's alert, isn't she?"

Alert? That's a huge understatement, but sure. . . she's alert.

Feeling Better (Sorta)

Our night started off like this:

Sophie woke up crying. Steve goes to put her back to sleep.

Ivy gets woken up and screams until I latch her on to sleep.

Both go back to sleep.

Repeat every 30 minutes or so for 4 hours. And that was before Steve and I went to bed. Ivy isn't even in the same room as Sophie, but she's a light sleeper. We're still working on "going to sleep without nursing" and I think we've made some progress. I have to let her fuss, but just for a few minutes now. It's getting better, I think.

A much needed nap after an hour of almost non-stop crying about everything.

Sophie felt better today, and moved on to mashed potatoes and oatmeal. (After she ate about 8 bowls of yogurt and applesauce mixed together -- a favorite concoction of hers.) She wasn't as emotional as she was last night, but we've still got some healing to do.

This little stage of her "two's" that she's in has made this HF&M thing especially difficult. She's gotten more emotional lately in general and if she senses we want her to do something, she does the opposite. She's also started whining/crying a lot more for stupid reasons (like asking for more fruit) or no reason at all. I swear I say, "Don't fuss at me! Just ask!" about 239,998,129 times a day. Couple that with the pain she's in and not feeling well in general. . . let's just say I'm glad she's extremely cute.

The infamous little bumps.

Ice Cream Makes Everything Better

So . . . Sophie's sick. Thursday she had a fever and a canker sore on the tip of her tongue. Friday she had two more cankers, one on each side. Today we noticed she had weird blister-like bumps on the palms of her hands and on the bottoms of her feet.

I called our doctor's office and spoke with an advice nurse. When I told her Sophie's symptoms, which also included fatigue and lack of appetite, she thought it over and said,

"It sounds like she's got Hands, Feet, and Mouth Disease."

I thought, "Huh? Is that even real? I think she either made that up because she doesn't know what's wrong or she's telling me some extreme layman's terms for what it really is."

Yes, it's a real sickness caused by a virus. I'd never heard of it until now, and luckily it's not going to hurt her. The bumps don't bug her at all, it's just those canker sores that make it painful for her to eat. Every time a fork or a straw grazes her tongue in the wrong place, she cries full-on for 10 minutes. It's hard to watch. To keep her hydrated, we've been feeding her smoothies (Snuck some of Ivy's butternut squash in there. SCORE!) and ice cold water. And ice cream.

To be continued . . .

Dr. Steve

One night earlier this week Steve put on his white clinic coat and asked me if I thought it needed to be ironed. My usual response is, "Do you want me to throw it in the dryer with a wet towel?" (I iron about twice a year.) So that's what I said to him. He got a funny look on his face and said that it probably needed to be ironed, which was his way of asking me if I would do it.

I was feeling particularly wife-y that night, so I told him I would. . . if he got the ironing board out for me. (It's between the fridge and the wall and requires moving about 4 things to get to it. That's why I iron twice a year.) I knew that he had his clinic entrance exam coming up in a couple of days, and he wanted it to look ironed, not "thrown in the dryer with a wet towel".

I mentioned to him that night that I wanted a picture of him wearing his white coat. Wednesday morning at about 7 AM, he came into the bedroom, wearing his white coat, marched over to the bed where I was lying with both girls (somehow Sophie had snuck in around 6:30), and handed me the camera. I was half asleep and contact-less. After a couple of tries, Steve suddenly picked up Ivy and held her. Luckily I managed to get a good one, and wished him luck on his big nasty exam.

Sophie Says

Since Sophie began stringing words together a few months ago, I've been anxiously waiting to hear some "Sophie-isms". Here's one of my favorites. . .

Since finding a ginormous black spider on my yoga mat the other day, I no longer keep it behind the couch. It's rolled up in the corner in plain view of my curious little one. She pulled it out today and played with it. By played I mean unrolling it, then running back and forth across it.

Did I say yoga mat? Pardon me -- I meant "yogurt mat". I have so much to learn from her.

"Op-i-tiss"

Wow, ants stir some pretty strong feelings out there. On to something a bit lighter . . .

This is how Sophie and Dad cooled off during the few days it got in the 90s. (Yes, just the 90s, but apparently insulation wasn't popular in 1950, when our place was built. Neither was air conditioning. It's seriously like living in a tent.)

Anyways, Sophie loves her little "Op-i-tiss" (octopus). It's perfect for toddlers because it shoots out really strong mist instead of full-on sprays.

Nope, you're right. She doesn't match. Somehow the camera always seems to come out on laundry day.

On Ants and Sugar Scrub

The thing about posting every single day is that I run out of things (or photos) to post about. It's only day 7, and I'm about to tell you about ants. Ants. Despite how it sounds, ants are a popular topic around here.

But I'm also going to tell you about about sugar scrub and a sweet Etsy friend named Janell, so hopefully this will give my post some redemptive qualities.

Here's what happened. . .

Nat likes Janell.

Nat likes Janell's shop.

Janell starts selling sugar scrubs in her shop.

Photo from Janell's shop (hope you don't mind I swiped it :))

Nat likes sugar scrubs.

Nat buys a bottle.

Nat puts the sugar scrub in the shower.

Meanwhile . . .

Nat's house is full of ants.

Nat kills ants.

Steve kills ants.

Sophie says, "Ant on arm! Ant on arm!"

Nat killed two ants on Ivy just today.

Ants love sugar.

Sugar scrub has lots of sugar.

Ants find sugar scrub.

Those ants are dead.

Steve added water to the pink cup.

None have come back.

Tonight . . .

Sophie also loves sugar.

Sophie finds sugar scrub.

Sophie eats sugar scrub.

Sugar scrub is no longer in the shower.

The End.

Birthday BBQ

We found ourselves in Sacramento at Steve's sister's place again for the 4th of July. This time it wasn't just America's birthday we were celebrating, but her little guy Nathan turns one on the 8th. We were here last year, too, and Nathan was just a few days from being born. Ivy wasn't here yet either, and Sophie was a lot smaller. She seemed to fill the tugboat better this time. And we even brought her a swimsuit.

Aw, family picture in the pool. A first for us and probably the last for a while. I really need to do some work before I put on a swimsuit again.

The only photo with all of us, but Steve's mom (Judi) is hiding behind Sophie. Steve's sister, Jennifer is between Judi and Rick. Rick is holding the birthday boy, Nathan. Yes, I know, Sophie's swimsuit is, er. . . a little low-cut. It was big around her chest and the straps kept falling off. (I should have brought her other one just in case.) Ivy's fit her perfectly, though. Thanks mom!

Going Strong . . . Sorta

This daily blogging thing kills me. Don't get me wrong -- I love blogging, but it's hard to get posts done when there's so much going on, and the kids (Sophie) are destroying the house, and I've got cooking/cleaning/laundry/unpacking/killing ants to do, and I'm tired and want to collapse into bed.

So, I'll tell you about our 4th of July tomorrow. We ate, we shot off some fireworks, we ate some more, and one of us put on a swimsuit for the first time in four years. Guess who that was?

(OK, it was me. Four years wasn't long enough, I think.)

Until tomorrow . . .

Happy Fourth!

Before I head to bed I just wanted to wish everyone a happy Fourth of July. Every year I get a little sentimental at night, and last year it ended up on my blog. As I sat and watched the illegal firework competition between our group and the group down the street, I thought of the things I was grateful for most at the moment. Ivy was swaddled in a blanket asleep in my arms, and Sophie, who told us she was "all done" after a few firecrackers went off, was inside the house with Steve's mom.

There will be a lot of things I think about on 4th of Julys to come, but a few things will always come to mind and stir feelings of gratitude and happiness. And sometimes make me cry. Not tonight, though. (It's not as emotional without Neil Diamond singing something patriotic and narration about our forefathers. If you've seen the fireworks in Idaho Falls, you'll know what I'm talking about.)

I think about Steve a lot on this day. I think about 2003 when he proposed. Then I think about 2004 when he was serving our country in Afghanistan. Then I think about 2005 when he was home safe and sound and we watched the fireworks together up in I.F. where he had proposed two years earlier.

Mostly I think about how grateful I am that he's home safe and sound. And then my heart goes out to all of the men who weren't able to return home to their families. I'm grateful for their service and for the freedom we have to stand up for what we believe in.

God Bless the USA :)

(Because we really need it right now.)

Marathon Sleeper

Amazing things happen sometimes.

Ivy took a three hour nap yesterday. So did Sophie (but she usually does). There was only a 15 minute overlap of their naps, which means . . .

I only had one kid to worry about at a time for six hours straight yesterday. Yes, I was stuck at home all day, but the trade off was worth it. If only Ivy would conk out that well at night.

Here's another little clip of just Ivy. I don't think she gets enough attention all by herself. Probably second-child syndrome.

The second part of this clip was right after she woke up from her 3-hour nap.

Oh, and by the way, she's started scooting on her stomach. Backwards, but scooting nonetheless.

More Yosemite

OK, I'm jumping on the "post something on your blog every single day in July" bandwagon. After seeing that I only posted five times in June, I thought it would be a good kick in the tush. I really hope that I'll be able to do this (and not have to change my dates. . . you're a cheater, Sare. :)) No promises, though.

Here's a clip of the girls and some photos my dad took from our Yosemite trip. . .

. . . a preview of much giggling yet to come :)


Ah yes. Camping :)






This picture is funny to me. . . how we're kind of spread out. I like the trees.

Progress (and lack thereof)

Her choice of reading material is interesting -- it's the textbook from a weight training class I took at BYU. Wrong kind of training, kid.

Yep, we've got a toiler reader. Not a toiler goer, yet, though. We have to bribe her with M&M's just to get her to sit on it, which is only once a day now.

She sleeps in a "bigur bed" (big girl bed). We put her crib mattress on the floor for now. We're waiting for our neighbor to get back from vacation so we can borrow his truck to get her a real bed. He just doesn't know it yet.

Ivy doesn't get excited about food. It breaks my heart. I've tried giving her 4-5 different things and changing up the texture, but her reaction remains the same -- scrunched nose, awkward tongue movements, spitting, and sometimes shivers. She LOVES to suck on big pieces of carrot, though. (And cantaloupe and apple, if I hold them for her) So. . . I got to thinking. If she likes sucking on big, cold things instead of eating warm mush, maybe she'd like eating her pureed food in frozen chunks.

I broke off some pieces of butternut squash puree that was in the freezer and fed it to her in pea-sized chunks. While I didn't get the kicking, excited reaction I always got from Sophie, she at least didn't scrunch up her nose. She even opened her mouth and reached for it. We have a long way to go, I think. I really hope I'm not nursing this time next year. Seriously, where did this child come from? She is the polar opposite of Sophie in every way. (Except for her size.)

By the way, if anyone is interested in making their own baby food (it's not that hard), WholesomeBabyFood.com is an excellent resource.