planes, trains, and automobiles....and boats

By the tender age of six months old, Garrett had traveled by car, moving truck, bus, subway, railroad, and airplane. With the exception of perhaps a tractor (which, in order to let him ride on one of those, we'd probably have to move back to Indiana), pretty much the only mode of transportation missing from this list is a boat. Now, living by the sea like we do, this was a situation not to be tolerated. And so today we made an excursion for a ride on the...


...Staten Island Ferry.

Because, really, why not? It's free, it's at our fingertips, and the weather, if a little chilly and windy, was not too shabby for the last day of the year.

Here are a few pictures of our outing:

Manhattan as we pulled out of the docks

Both the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges, as well as downtown Brooklyn (they aren't that lopsided in real life...in case you were wondering)

Our neighborhood and the Verrazano Narrows Bridge as seen from the ferry

Catching a glimpse of our neighborhood from the Staten Island side

Staten Island Borough Hall

Lady Liberty, standing majestically

And now, at six months and one day old, Garrett has been for a boat ride.

two letters for my two boys

Dear Garrett,

It is bittersweet watching you grow up. I miss my tiny baby, but I love my talented six-month-old. They say that six months is a pivotal age, and I couldn't agree more. Everyday, it seems, you surprise me with another new trick. Here is a little of what you've been up to lately.

Your happiness seems to have exploded. You laugh spontaneously, and listening to your ticklish chuckle makes me want to giggle right along with you. You smile more, now, too. I adore it when you, while sitting in my lap, crook your neck and wrinkle your brow to look up at me and, once you're assured that I'm still there, burst into a mile-wide grin.

You've recently become more vocal, as if you've discovered that you like the sound of your voice. I often catch you babbling to yourself as you play and singing to yourself as I feed you. And speaking of eating, you're no small fry in that department! Despite an initial look of disgust when I give you a new food to try, you nevertheless gobble it all up. Your favorites right now include the Rice Cereal with Bananas Combo and sips of ice water lapped out of a big boy cup.

Like most babies your age, your mouth is a magnet for everything. You gnaw and chew on anything you get your hands on, and you do so quite ferociously. Though you'll take anything you can get, you seem to be partial to chewing on your burp cloth, your Lovey, your overall straps, and the bill of the new duck toy Aunt Chelsea gave you for Christmas. When I hold you close to my face you dive in and chomp down as if to eat my nose. (I laugh when you do this and like to pretend you're attempting to kiss me, albeit rather viciously.)

You're so close to sitting all by yourself, and you've mastered rolling over from your tummy to your back. (Though I'm sure you could do it if you were willing to try, you could also roll from your back to your tummy, but why stay on your stomach longer than necessary, you reason.) You recognize it when we call your name, and you're ever entranced as you watch people walk around the room. You love to play with your toys, especially those that squeak and rattle, and you are getting much better at holding on to them.

You're a smart boy. And we've had a good first half of the year together. I don't know about you, but as much fun as the first six months have been, I'm greatly looking forward to the next six. I love you!

Love,
Mama


Dear Blake,

Twenty-seven already, huh? Happy birthday! I've got some fun plans in store for you today, which I think you'll enjoy. (Anything involving eggnog, hamburgers, hot fudge sundae cake, and presents can't be bad, right?)

I want you to know, dear, how much I love and appreciate you. You are a hard-working man, a patient husband, and a sparkling father. Garrett and I are very lucky to have you. You encourage the both of us to be the best we can and I only hope we are living up to the potential you see in us.

I love you, Blake. Very much.

Love,
Lindsay

we went back to the met...

...and decided to take you with us:

home again - with a few christmas trip highlights

The festivities are over, the friends have been visited with, and the family has been waved goodbye to. We took a red-eye flight home last night, arriving back in Brooklyn early this morning. I've taken a much needed nap, have made my errand to the post office to retrieve our mail, and have unpacked our bags, and I think that now I finally have a few moments to sit down and share some highlights with you of our Christmas trip.

- I think -- no, I know -- that the absolute best part of this vacation is that my entire family was all together at home for the holidays for the first time in more years than I can keep track of. I don't know if I can even describe how fantastic it was to get to sit down and ALL eat dinner together; to gather in the family room chatting, playing a game, or watching a movie; to all get to spend a beautiful Christmas morning together in the living room around the fresh-smelling and weighted down with ornaments tree. I finally got to sit down and get to know my two sisters-in-law, Amanda and Chelsea Sr., better. Everyone got to meet (and coo over and play with) Garrett. It was really, really hard to have to say goodbye.

- It's been a few years since I got to participate in the our family Christmas Eve Extravaganza, but nothing much changed in my absence - except, perhaps, that our nay-tivity was a lot more reverent this year and also Blake, Garrett, and I, probably because it was convenient, got to play the Holy Family (Garrett deserves an Oscar for his utter adorableness in his portrayal of the sleeping baby Jesus). We still ate clam chowder, we still did the Nutcracker dance and the "Merry Christmas Polka," and we still exhibited our meager talents. We even, by way of a webcam, got to include my cousin Julie and her husband, Ethan, who couldn't join us from their home in Texas due to the first little addition to their family scheduled to arrive in February (and who, by the looks of things, has turned my cousin into a glowing and darling expecting mama).

- On the Saturday before Christmas we got to participate in the sealing of Blake's sister, Kimberly, to her now-husband, David, in the Manti Temple. It was all beautiful (bride, ceremony, clear blue day), but bitterly cold. Garrett didn't so much like have to be outside for the post-ceremony pictures, and I'm still wondering why I had to trek up AND down that treacherously icy set of stairs with my big, awkwardly sleeping bundle of baby (it was close, but we survived). The day before the wedding the two families joined together for a fabulous dinner at the Chef's Table, where I pretty much scarfed down the most delicious (and not to mention my very first) duck dinner ever. So good! And the blackberry lemonade and chocolate hazelnut mousse dessert that came with it? Divine. It was a whirlwind visit with Blake's family, who drove up from Texas to marry their daughter off, and while it was wonderful to see them all, I wish our time together could have been longer (and not to mention less wedding-stressed).

- In spite of the mini-blizzard that suddenly churned up that evening, I thought I had a pretty good turnout for my little blog party. It was great to see old friends and their spouse and infant additions, as well as to meet some blog friends for the very first time. Thanks, guys, for coming! It was also equally as great to get to visit with a few of you who couldn't make to the get-together. I really feel blessed to belong to such a varied and kind circle of friends.

- Garrett was an Angel Baby once again on our flight home. He slept the entire way. I don't think I could be more proud.

And I think that's all I'm going to write about our trip because, let's be honest with ourselves: the pictures are so much better.

It's strange to be back, and I have to admit, I was a little nervous to return from Life In Provo With Family and Cars, to Life in Brooklyn, Just the Three of Us, On Foot. But after venturing out for a few post-vacation errands in gorgeous un-December-like weather, I'm feeling confident again that I can, in fact, go back to real life.

later 'gator

Being surrounded by family, friends, and festivities apparently turns me into a lousy blogger. Just hang tight, though, guys: we'll chat later.

a tiny christmas miracle

One year ago today I received a magnificent Christmas present. On December 18th, 2006, in a little ultrasound clinic in Muncie, Indiana, I learned, after four miserably long weeks, that the miscarriage I was told to expect wasn't viable - that I was, in fact, pregnant.

Last year, two days before Thanksgiving, I called my doctor to find out how concerned I should be over a tiny bit of bleeding I was experiencing. I had known for two weeks that I was pregnant, and still hadn't been in for my initial appointment. Though he wasn't especially concerned, he encouraged me to go get checked out at the Emergency Room to make sure everything was as it should be. I followed his advice and left work early.

I spent the next six hours at the ER undergoing blood tests and multiple ultrasound tests (transvaginal and abdominal). Blake waited with me as long as he could, but eventually had to head back to campus. I was sitting there alone, feeling vulnerable and slightly nauseous, when a gruff doctor with what I considered to be very poor bedside manners came in and bluntly told me that my hormone levels were lower than they should be, and though the ultrasounds proved that my placenta was growing, they could detect no fetus. I was, in short, experiencing a blighted ovum miscarriage and could expect to be back in the ER in a few days when the bleeding got heavier. Naturally I was very upset to hear this news and was more than a little miffed when this doctor didn't even think to offer me a tissue to wipe up the waterfall cascading out of my eyes.

As soon as I got my discharge papers I hurried up to campus to cry on Blake's shoulder. Later that night we cried over the phone to our families, and the next day, partly because of all the drama going on and partly because I continued to feel more and more nauseous, we cancelled the Thanksgiving plans we'd made with my high school kindred spirit, Emily, and her husband, who had recently moved to a drivable distance from Muncie.

Even though I was heartsick and stomach-sick, we went ahead and cooked our Thanksgiving feast. We had, after all, a lot of food needing cooking sitting in our refrigerator. But I could hardly eat anything. I chalked the nausea that was daily getting worse up to the fact that, like the doctor said, my placenta was still growing, but my body didn't yet realize that the pregnancy had been aborted, and therefore morning sickness was likely to happen.

My doctor was out of town for the holidays and the first available appointment I could make to see him was Monday December 4th, almost two weeks after the ER visit. During that time I continued to lose my breakfast shortly after I arrived at work each day, I cried with my wonderfully gentle and understanding visiting teaching circle, and I waited (and waited) for the heavy bleeding I was told to expect to happen.

I assumed that at my appointment, since this miscarriage was not progressing naturally, my doctor would schedule a D&C. However that is not what happened. My doctor was surprised to hear that I had not bled any more than that tiny bit two weeks before, and he was even more surprised when I told him that I was feeling incredibly nauseous. He decided to run a few blood tests to check my hormone levels and told me not to give up all hope quite yet. When he called me later that afternoon with the lab results, which were consistent with a pregnancy at eight weeks gestation, I couldn't help but feel an odd rush of hesitant relief. He told me to go ahead and come back in two weeks - December 18th, at what would have been my initial prenatal appointment. At that time he would check to see if he could hear a heartbeat.

So I was cautiously optimistic - no, make that cautiously ecstatic. After I wrote in my journal about the day's happy turn of events, I flipped back a few pages to read about the day I learned I was pregnant. It was Election Day, and I was coming down with a horrible cold. Blake had given me a Priesthood blessing, and in that blessing he told me that both me and the baby would be healthy and that the baby would grow to full term. Remembering that blessing prompted me to write a few more lines in my journal, mostly relating to the faith I knew I now had to cling to.

Waiting for two more weeks was hard, especially with my several-times-daily trips to bathroom to...you know...which was hard to keep doing because I didn't know for sure if there was a good cause for them. I know I wouldn't have been able get out of bed each morning if it weren't for Blake and the faith and prayers of both of our families and the few friends who knew what was going on. I was especially grateful for Nancy, the best sister I could have asked for to be on my visiting teaching route. Every time I saw her, she topped off my faith and confidence with her own and reminded me that even if things didn't work out the way we wanted them to, even though she knew they would, it would be what Heavenly Father was intending for me.

And then, December 18th! At last! The first thing the doctor did was pull out his Doppler stethoscope to see if he could hear a heartbeat. At only 10 weeks along, we would be lucky to hear something, but he thought he might try anyway. Unfortunately he couldn't hear anything. "Don't give up yet," he told me, "this doesn't necessarily mean anything bad." He gave me a routine prenatal exam and still couldn't determine if I was truly pregnant or not. He left the room for a moment, leaving Blake and I on pins and needles. When he came back he had with him an order for an ultrasound (stat) at a clinic across town. We'd all waited long enough to find out what was going on, he said.

So we drove to the clinic and as we did I chugged the biggest bottle of water I could buy from the vending machine in the office lobby. Because of my doctor's rushed orders for the ultrasound, I got in right away. As she jellied my belly up, I explained to the tech the reason for the ultrasound. She commiserated with me for a moment before she said, "Well, there's definitely a baby in there!" And there was! It was mostly head and heartbeat, but it had squirmy arms and legs...and it was swimming around so vigorously there was no doubt that it was alive and, by all accounts, thriving. Naturally I was thrilled to hear this news and was definitely pleased when the tech, who had very good bedside manners, handed me some tissues to wipe the waterfall cascading out of my eyes.

And now, one year later, I have the most adorable five and half month old baby boy in all of creation, my own tiny Christmas miracle.

'tis the season

A few items happening in my world as well as a few thoughts floating around in my head over the last few days as I have feasted on this holiday season:

Music

• Heaven bless the music teachers (and the echoy mall accoustics) who can make an elementary school choir sing like angels; the middle school orchestra teachers who are able to make beginning string students not sound screechy; and the piano teachers who can create an atmosphere of professionalism at an amateur recital.
• I realized for the first time the other night that my old piano teacher, who is currently instructing my youngest sister, really is amazing. I was lucky to have been taught by her and only wish I'd practiced with more dedication when I was in lessons.
• The Mormon Tabernacle Choir & King's Singers Christmas concert was fantastic (which, yes, translates to mean that I'm very grateful I had a few tissues with me). What an amazing production - though I can't help but agree with my mom that, while extremely talented, those King's Singers do mark an odd but striking resemblence to one Andy Bernard. Also, who knew that Luke 2 sounds so much better when recited by Brits?

Food

• Last night was my parent's ward Christmas party, which we made an appearance at mostly just for the turkey dinner being served. We skipped out early because...
• At long last, I was in town during one of my brother, Tyler's, Gourmet Hot Chocolate nights. His talented wife, Amanda, whipped up the most delicious scones, and both were incredibly hospitable as we all raided their festive little apartment.
• My mom must think I'm a little talented in the kitchen, too, because since my arrival I've become a bit of an asset in the kitchen. The other night I was in charge of throwing together a buffet-style meal of pigs in a blanket, pasta salad, and potato chips with French onion dip. Tonight I'm making French dip sandwiches in au jus sauce and creamy mashed potatoes.

Family & Friends

• I love being surrounded by family. And though it's, I'm sure, a little overwhelming, Garrett loves the attention he's been getting from his adoring aunts, uncles, and grandparents. I don't blame hime, though, if he a little confused and/or freaked out by all the new people in his face all the time.
• At Tyler and Amanda's hot chocolate night we got to also visit with our friend, Gabriel, and his wife, Erin. Gabriel is one of the most personable, upbeat, charismatic people you will ever meet. It was good to see him again.
• My brother, Riley's, wife, Chelsea Senior, (to seperate her from my youngest sister, Chelsea Junior) works at Albertson's and called yesterday to let us know that Santa would be at the store for a few hours and would Garrett like to come see him? I don't know if Garrett wanted to, but his mama sure wanted him to. I'm proud to say that he was much braver than I was as he sat on that jolly lap.
• Just a quick reminder to all you friends and readers out there of my little blog party this Thursday evening beginning about 5:00. I hope to see as many of you who can make it there!
• Tonight Blake's sister, Kimberly, her fiance, David, and brother, Eric are all going to come back to spend more quality time with their nephew. It will be fun when the rest of Blake's family arrives in town for the wedding -- and especially when Blake arrives. He presence during all these holiday festivities is sorely missed. Only a few more days, dear!

good old terra firma; or, we survived the trip

I hope you can all gather from the fact that it's Thursday and I'm posting to mean that I survived Wednesday's flight well enough to sit here and tell the tale. (Or is that type the tale?) Anyhow, according to the flight attendants, I have an Angel Baby -- the kind who sleeps, coos, plays, and, except for the time when he needed a poopy diaper changed, does not cry during a 5 1/2 hour flight across the country. I'm pretty sure, though, that it was because I had two empty seats next to me and could let my Angel Baby spread out that elevated Garrett's status up from simply Cute But Anxiously Squirmy Baby.

The pleasantries couldn't last forever, though, and by the time we got to Provo and started sending Garrett through what were, according to him, the five million, in-your-face introductions to his adoring uncles, aunts, and grandparents, we had one cranky baby on our hands. Or on my hands. (I miss Blake.) I'm surprised, though, that I wasn't equally as cranky. What with that unmentionably early wake-up to get to the airport on time, not being able to sleep myself en route because of the bizarre position in which Garrett decided to konk out in my arms, the transition from New York time to Utah time, and the dealing with the above-mentioned cranky baby (whose lungs, I swear, get more powerful by the day), I was awake for nearly 24 straight hours. I think it's safe to say that last night's full and almost uninterrupted sleep was extremely beneficial to both Garrett's and my well-being.

But despite the sleep-deprived crankiness, we've already been served a full plate of vacation fun. My mom, Garrett, and I stopped at the mall yesterday afternoon to listen to my old elementary school choir, the Grandview Choraleers, perform their Christmas concert. And yesterday evening we settled in at the middle school to hear my sister, Chelsea's, orchestra concert. Just before we threw in the towel and called it a night, Blake's brother, Eric, his sister, Kimberly, and her fiance, David, stopped by to meet The Nephew. It was fun to see them, and good to meet this fellow who in nine days will become my brother-in-law. And now, with a few morning errands behind us, I think I can call it wraps on my Christmas shopping.

And lest you think the full serving of fun has already been swallowed, let me assure you that there is plenty left for seconds. Looking briefly ahead, tonight is Chelsea's piano recital and tomorrow night we get to head up to Salt Lake City to hear the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing with the King's Singers at the Conference Center (except for Garrett, who will be better off with babysitters, Uncle Riley and Aunt Chelsea, Senior), and at some point we'll decorate the tree that was bought last night. So stay tuned...there will be more to write about soon.

new heights

Tomorrow, at an unmentionably early hour, the car service I reserved will drive Garrett, myself, my mental and physical support system (a.k.a. Blake), two bags for check-in, one bag for carry-on, a diaper bag, a car seat, and a stroller to the airport. Assuming my baby and I survive the security checkpoint with all our faculties and sanity intact, the wait for take-off, as well as the 5 hour and 39 minute flight, and the drive from the Salt Lake City airport to my parent's home, I will feel free to at last say goodbye to the butterflies that have been calling the pit of my stomach home for the last few days and hello to the excited grandparents and equally (though probably not painfully) anxious aunts and uncles who have been waiting for nearly five and a half months to meet their nephew.

So join with me as I raise my parting glass (of delicious hot chocolate, of course): Here's to surviving not only my first solo flight with an infant, but my first flight with an infant period. (Wish me luck.) Here's also to spending a fabulous Christmas - the first in several years - with my family on the home front. And here's to finding time to get back online every now and again to fill you in on our holiday adventures.

Merry Christmas!

feeling famous

Until today I'd never heard of BuzzFeed.com. But when I noticed a little while ago that I was getting about a bazillion hits referred to me from this site, I had to investigate.

From what I can tell, BuzzFeed is similar to Digg.com. And I'm not quite sure how, but apparently this post has been bouncing up and down the ranking of the 10 Best Links for Holiday Store Displays.

For a while, even, I was ranked Number 1:


How cool is that?!

playing hooky

My last post on motherhood was apparently real swell and all -- at least it struck a chord somewhere, causing quite a few of you to crawl out of the woodwork to comment (thanks, by the way, for sharing your thoughts...I love the warm, fuzzy, popular feeling I get when you chime in) -- and I promise that I meant every single word of what I said, but last night, for the first time in five months and nine days (i.e. since the day before Garrett was born), this mama played hooky. Last night Blake and I went out on a date.

About a week ago, the secretary to the CEO of the company Blake works for handed Blake an envelope from her boss which contained two complimentary Knicks tickets. So we hired a pair of babysitters, told Garrett to be a good boy...

...and then we got really nervous about leaving him for, essentially, the first time since he was born (we're not counting the couple of times a visiting family member has kindly volunteered to watch him while we escaped for an errand). Would he be a happy, playful boy, or would he be ridden with reflux-induced screams and nervous stranger anxiety? Had we left clear enough instructions? Did we remind our friends that it was important not to drop him?

Of course he'd be just fine, we reassured ourselves as we walked to the subway. Scott and Ashley are responsible, baby-loving adults who, armed with the instructions we gave them and the few tricks we tucked up their sleeves, would do fine. And of course we knew that they knew not to drop him.

It was still strange, though, to be riding the subway without Garrett in tow.

We stopped first for dinner at the New York Burger Company, which was oh, so good and faintly reminiscent of the glories of our favorite burger joint in Provo, Jerry's, which has since, sadly, kicked the bucket.

Well fed, we then walked the few blocks north to Madison Square Garden which, we were reminded several times throughout the evening, is the most famous arena in the world.


The Knicks were playing the Philadelphia 76ers, and I can't boast that I'm familiar with current basketball stats and rankings, but I can tell you that the Knicks could have played a lot better. I, who had been their number 1 fan for all of three hours, was incredibly disappointed. (Hopefully, their season will improve. After all, we're going to be New Yorkers for a while and we need a decent team to support.)


Despite the fact that our team was consistently shooting well under par (both literally and figuratively), we still had a lot of fun. It was Kids Night at The Garden (which, again, in case you forgot, is the world's most famous arena), and that for some reason made me feel okay about leaving Garrett at home. Though I really can't claim a logical explanation for this reasoning, it might have had something to do with the fact that I was surrounded by game-going children who made me feel right at home. Or maybe it was the excellent dance performances by the Knicks City Kids, who, with their ability to outdo the competition in acrobatics, were more entertaining to watch than the Knicks City Dancers (a.k.a. the cheerleaders).

Sometime during the first quarter, I received a nice message from Ashley: "Hey! Everything is going great. He is being a good boy and he ate all his carrots." At halftime I called to check in and was reassured that the only crankiness he had exhibited was due to a dire need to go to bed.

So, my baby was apparently doing just fine without me. And while on the one hand I felt relieved, on the other I felt a teensy bit slighted.

A few minutes into the fourth quarter, amid chants of "Fire Isiah! Fire Isiah!" we decided to cut our losses and get ahead of the crowds. Our Knicks were down by a pathetic 20 points, so, apparent fair-weather fans that we are, we left them to fend for themselves. (We looked up the score later for confirmation that we'd made the right decision. And we did: they lost 77 to 105.)

Because good dates, according to Blake's way of thinking, come in threes (meal, activity, dessert), and because it was chilly, we stopped at a nearby Dunkin' Donuts for some hot chocolate, which we sipped as we walked back to the subway. The train ride home was miserably slow, and we were almost evacuated while we were riding over the Manhattan Bridge (a train ahead of us was stopped on the tracks, and the train we were in had to pull the emergency brakes, thus triggering the automatic announcement preparing us passengers for evacuation. It was a moment of anxious excitement, to be sure). While we sat waiting (and waiting) for our train to start moving, I turned to Blake and thanked him for a swell evening out. "Don't thank me," he replied, in much the same manner as his co-worker account manager does after taking Blake out for lunch,"thank the investors."


We arrived back home to the pleasant scene of our baby snoozing in his crib and our babysitters looking decidedly non-frazzled. I, for one, had a fabulous night on the town, and am relieved to know that our son, at least for the time being, knows how to be good for the babysitters. So, thanks, Scott and Ashley, for helping us out! We're sad our new favorite babysitters are moving back to Idaho. You know you're more than welcome to fly out to New York and watch Garrett any time.

on motherhood

After watching some of my nursery children scamper about my living room while I hosted playgroup this morning; after reading this month's Ensign, with its timely First Presidency message and artwork featuring the love a mother has for her children; after reflecting upon both Mary's responsibility to raise the Christ child as well as my own new responsibilities as a mother; and after reflecting on the wonder of childhood, I have found myself simultaneously feeling both an overwhelming weight of the responsibility and trust given me and an exhilarating rush of awe and gratitude for it. And, I must admit, it has reduced me to a few tears over the last couple of days. So here are a few sentiments which I have both read recently, as well as a few which have penetrated me for years on the beauty of motherhood.

"I love these little people; and it is not a slight thing when they, who are so fresh from God, love us. "

Charles Dickens

"When God wants a great work done in the world or a great wrong righted, he goes about it in a very unusual way. He doesn't stir up his earthquakes or send forth his thunderbolts. Instead, he has a helpless baby born, perhaps in a simple home and of some obscure mother. And then God puts the idea into the mother's heart, and she puts it into the baby's mind. And then God waits. The greatest forces in the world are not the earthquakes and the thunderbolts. The greatest forces in the world are babies."

E. T. Sullivan

"O sisters, too, how may we do, For to preserve this day This poor Youngling for whom we sing; By, by, lully, lullay."

The Coventry Carol

"It is the nightly custom of every good mother after her children are asleep to rummage in their minds and put things straight for next morning, repacking into their proper places the many articles that have wandered during the day. If you could keep awake (but of course you can't) you would see your own mother doing this, and you would find it very interesting to watch her. It is quite like tidying up drawers. You would see her on her knees, I expect, lingering humorously over some of your contents, wondering where on earth you had picked this thing up, making discoveries sweet and not so sweet, pressing this to her cheek as if it were as nice as a kitten, and hurriedly stowing that out of sight. When you wake up in the morning, the naughtiness and evil passions with which you went to bed have been folded up small and placed at the bottom of the your mind, and on the top, beautifully aired, are spread out your prettier thoughts, ready for you to put on."

J. M. Barrie in Peter and Wendy

"Behold your little ones, and see within them the wonders of God, from whose presence they have recently come."

President Gordon B. Hinckley

"Motherhood is near to divinity. It is the highest, holiest service to be assumed by mankind. It places her who honors its holy calling and service next to the angels."

Elder Russell M. Nelson

"Whatever the era, whatever the times, one thing will never change: Fathers and mothers, if you have children, they must come first. You must read to your children and you must hug your children and you must love your children. Your success as a family, our success as a society, depends not one what happens in the White House, but on what happens inside your house."

Barbara Bush to the graduates of Wellesley College

and then i added hydrocortisone to the regimen

I thought that maybe moving to a coastal climate would help. I'd hoped that radiators created a different sort of heat. But no. Winter hasn't even officially started and my hands are cracked and bleeding; the skin on my face looks like a parched, flaky desert; the skin on the rest of my body has turned rough and calloused; my hair has turned brittle; and my lips are chapped and peeling.

It sometimes feels like I've tried everything:

Skin on my face: Cetaphil face wash, St. Ives Apricot Scrub, Cetaphil face lotion

Skin on my hands: a variety of "dermatologist recommended" moisturizing lotions, lotions with shea butter, lotions with cocoa butter, Aquaphor healing ointment, lathering my hands in petroleum jelly each night before bed and wearing gloves while I sleep, and, most recently, hydrocortisone cream for the itchy dry skin rash that decided to develop this year.

Skin on the rest of my body: I'll be honest...with my hands as sore as as they are and obviously needing most of my attention, I tend to neglect to the rest of my skin. But when I do remember, I usually treat it similarly to how I treat my hands.

Lips: moisturizing ChapStick, medicated ChapStick, Burt's Bees stuff

Hair: In the summer I can get away with cheap-o Suave shampoos and conditioners, but about a week ago, when my hair started to break off in places I wish it wouldn't (think spikes along my part line), I quickly switched to that Dove Advanced Care Sheer Moisture Therapy stuff. I love Dove stuff (I'm addicted to their white beauty bar), and last winter their shampoo/conditioner didn't fail me. Here's hoping for a repeat.

But alas...I'm still parched, cracked, bleeding, itchy, red, and flaky.

I wasn't always this way. Growing up, my skin, though adolescently prone to oily shine and acne, was fine. This seemed odd to my desert-raised peers who were just as addicted to lotioned-up hands as I was lotion-free hands. But then something happened: I started my eastward migration. And my skin hasn't been the same since. Which is odd because you'd think (or, at least, I'd think) that moving from a dry climate to a humid one would be nothing but beneficial to my skin. Guess I can chalk that one up to a failed experiment with the scientific method.

Is there something out there I'm not trying? Some miracle cure that can see me through till spring? Or am I just doomed to be a walking winter desert for the rest of my life? I'm willing to consider just about anything (anything, that is, except living out the rest of my days as a walking winter desert).

and so i sewed

Today I buckled down and finally unburied my sewing machine, which had been hiding in the bottom of my closet since I stashed it there while we were unpacking. The sewing itch has been tickling the back of my neck for some time now (or was that just my hair desperately needing a trim?), so (sew?) today I tackled a simple, though certainly not smallish, project: I made sashes to tie back my curtains.

And now instead of this...


We have this...


And behold, there was light. And a fire escape. And some lightly falling snow.


So the sashes are made. And this morning I went back to this place (with their fahbuhlus head and neck massage disguised as a "shampoo," and their amazing ability to cut my hair just right despite the fact that, because I don't speak a lick of Chinese, most of my instructions are given by hand motions) for that much needed trim. But there's still an itch tickling the back of my neck. Maybe it's time to finally pull out the pile of fabric squares I've been salvaging from old clothes and leftover project scraps and buckle down already and sew the rag quilt I've been planning to make.

Daunting? A little, yes. Maybe leaving my sewing machine out instead of burying it back in my closet will help me scratch this itch once and for all. (Or maybe I'm just looking for a good excuse to keep from having to go back in there and clean up my mess...)

come play

The competing interests of two families in town, a wedding, and Christmas have not succeeded in preventing me from finagling a few hours to spend visiting with friends, both old and new, while we are in Provo. So if you are reading this, and can finagle it yourself, we (and by "we," I mean "Garrett and I"...Blake will not yet have arrived from New York) would love to see you (and by "you," I mean "old friends I've known for years as well as blog friends I've yet to meet") at a little open house gathering.

When: The evening of Thursday December 20th
Where: Provo. Email me for the address/directions.
Perks: I'm pretty sure that I can splurge for some hot chocolate. Also, you will get to meet Garrett. (Note: the earlier in the evening you are able to drop by, the more likely it is that you'll get to meet Happy, Playful Garrett, as opposed to Cranky, Tired Garrett. I'm just sayin'.)

So I hope to see you there! And so does this guy:

(Really, how could you say no to a face like this?!)

toasty

For longer than I think is healthy to admit, I thought that the words to the Christmas song "Winter Wonderland" were:

Later on we'll perspire
As we dream by the fire

But honestly, can you blame me? Fires are hot. It made sense.