Am I Ready For This?

For the most part I think of myself as a very relaxed momma.  A person could easily go crazy thinking of 'what ifs' and 'what thens' when it comes to children.  Especially raising children right to be outstanding citizens.  Children that know they came from a loving family in heaven, have a purpose on this earth, and a place to go when they leave their mortal body.

It's too scary.  So I don't think about it and know that everything will fall in to place as it should.  And if nothing else, I pray that none of my children need to go to jail to get their lives sorted out for themselves.

But I do get scared.  I get so scared that I start to hyperventilate about the future.  About Alaska going to school her first day.  About her going over to a friend's house.  Her first birthday party even.  And by first I mean the one that is going to be here in 5 months.  I know, it shouldn't be scary, but anything in the future is scary.  Anything that I don't know about right now is scary.  Anything where Alaska has to make a decision and I hope that I have taught her well enough to make the right decision hounds on me and takes my breath away.

I remember when I used to be so scared for her to sit up.  When I was holding that little baby that just wanted to sleep all day and snuggle I got nervous about her walking.

Silly, right?

Yes, totally ridiculous.  After having watched her roll over and sit up and now crawl I have realized that everything comes naturally and at it's own pace.  I think perhaps babies learn things in steps not for them, but for their parents.  Us.  Wouldn't it be a heart stopper to have your 3 month-old tell you, "Momma, stop kissing my cheeks.  You're making me claustrophobic"  Yes.  It would.

When Alaska's first day of school comes around, even though I am not ready for it now, I am sure by the time it is here we're going to be waiting for the bus half a hour early because we're both so excited.  Or, let's be realistic, we're going to be yelling and crying as I try to get her pigtails just so on her head as she squirms in excitement and I am going to pull too hard and she's going to cry and I am going to say something about how if she would just sit still... And then the bus will come and the bus will go and she'll be driving in the car to her first day of kindergarten.

I Don't Want to be THAT Momma

I am having a little bit of a hard time right now.  We've been to Oregon, family from Oregon has been here, and we've been back to Oregon all this summer.  School is going to start and the trips back and forth are going to slow down until the holidays.  Which means I am going to be low on adventures to tell people.  Which then causes me to talk about the thing I know the most about, Alaska.  The baby girl, not the state.  

And believe me when I say, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, more boring than hearing someone talk about their kids.  Unless their kids do really embarrassing stuff.  Then I don't mind at all because a good story is a good story, despite the main characters.  But I don't want to be that momma.  I want to have my own things to talk about.  After all, I wasn't always a momma and just because I can wipe spit-up on my own jeans off Alaska's mouth with my bare hand does not mean that my world needs to totally revolve around her.

I am on a quest.  A quest to continue to be my own person.  Let's relay the pitfalls first, though.  'Cause after that, anything is possible.  One) Handsome Husband doesn't have the same day off every week.  Two) Handsome Husband never has Saturdays off.  Three) Handsome Husband cannot be relied on to come home at the same time every day, let alone before 7 pm.  Four) I have a baby.  Five) I don't want to leave her with someone to watch because One) She's almost getting into everything.  Two) I have no money to pay someone to watch her.  Three) How much and what do you pay a babysitter anyways?

So... now that you know the problems and I have them typed out for myself... let the brain storming begin.  Ummm... zumba would be really fun.  Or water aerobics.  Or taking a painting class or a cake decorating class.  Dance.  Reading to kids in the elementary school.  Volunteering at a pet shelter.  Going to city council meetings.  

We have a solution.  Number one: Tell Steven to beg for the same day off a week.  Number two. Find one of those things to do that is on a week evening.

And because I am just that awesome and I would love to have two things to talk about with people... Number one: Offer to trade babysitting hours with someone in the ward.  Number two: Find one of those things to do that is on a week day.

First Mission: Crawl. Second Mission: Run

Well Alaska Paska... this one is for you.  Our little punky.  This is the story of how you learned to crawl.  Now before you knock it as "Momma's being too sentimental" you must understand that I am going to need to re-read this a few times when you are terrorizing the house at full speed.  And then I will remember that I knew it was coming.  There was a time I was prepared for your little fingers into everything.

You started at a baby's normal rate of army crawling it across the floor but all the while you would always ALWAYS be up on your hands and knees first.  You knees would move according to theory and would run into your hands bending you in half.  And then when you couldn't figure out how to move your hands forward you would flop into a belly crawl and scoot yourself to where you wanted to go.

This would happen over and over again.  A few days later you were moving your hands according to theory as well as your knees but it was common for you to trip over yourself.  You still wanted to move faster than you were currently able.  So you would start off crawling, trip, army crawl, decide crawling was faster and back up to your hands and knees you would go.

This all happened remarkably fast.  I have made it a rule to never compare you to any baby ('cause, let's be honest, they don't have a fighting chance) but sometimes I can't help but notice obvious differences.  Like how alert you were from the very beginning, how you never banged your head around - you were always in perfect control - your very precise leg exercises and now your crawling learning curve.  You are pretty awesome and I have a feeling you are going to achieve some pretty awesome things.

So go get 'em baby girl.  In no time you're going to be running all over the place and peaking into drawers and slamming your fingers in cupboards.  It's bound to happen and right now, I am ready for it.

Seven Months with Alaska

Favorite Things: Pink painted toes.  You love them.  I'll be cooking dinner and stay still just a little too long and your little fingers have pounced on my toes before I know you're even there.

Special Talents:  You certainly didn't mess around with any kind of army crawling.  You are up and moving and getting faster every single day.

Favorite Pastime:  Following your momma around the house.  I can keep you quite busy just by moving room to room as I pick up and do laundry.

Nickname: Your sweet personality is starting to show through more than ever but you've got a strong will.  Right now you are most often called 'punky' as I scoop you into my arms after you have told me all there is to know about how much you hate going to bed at 7:30.

Sleep:  Thank goodness teething hasn't caused any problems to your night sleep.  I can still count on you sleeping 7:30 to 7.  Your naps are slowly coming back and you are ready at 9 and at 1 for a good mood booster.

Crying: I am pretty sure you bonk that noggin of yours every day and you cry a little each time.  You need more and more attention and let us know with little hyperventilated gasps.

Dislikes:  Food.  The first time I gave you anything in a spoon you swallowed like the good child that you are but clamped your lips shut tight and would back away if I came at you with a spoon again.

Likes: You still get baths in the sink and I let you play in the water until you get bored enough to start searching for things outside of the sink to play with.  You have been known to stretch yourself across the counter to grab a measuring cup.  You also like practicing with your sippy cup.  You can hold it correctly and get the right parts in your mouth but you still struggle lifting enough to get the water in the right place.

My favorite part:  You have so much energy and are so curious about everything.  When we go on car rides you are so anxious to get out that you push with your arms away from the carseat after I unbuckle you.

Toothpaste Etiquette

Handsome Husband and I rarely get ready for bed together.  I know, you say, "How unromantic!"  But seriously, we're avoiding cracked ribs and bruises in all seriousness.

You see, whoever is the last one in bed has to turn off the light.  I hate turning off the light.  It's always a big race as to who can get done brushing the fastest and out the door.  Believe me, I can brush my teeth the fastest.  Steven has to take his contacts out before he starts brushing.  Something about 'rule of the routine'.  But getting out of the bathroom?  That's another story.  I always always always get pinned against the mirror on the opposite wall and if I can get my hips out from around him my feet can't keep up and I get pinned against the door.  Then I am lost.  You can guarantee I will have bruises come the next day.  So then I take a last attempt chance at sneaking the other way and maybe landing a 'soft, playful punch' in the tummy for the blockade in my way and then one punch deserves another so I end up even more bruised and still not able to escape.  And I lose.  I have to hit the light.

Yesterday was a night where I was being sneaky and wasn't rushing my teeth brushing to get ahead and Steven didn't even know we were racing.  I won.  But only after getting pinned into a discussion about toothpaste etiquette.  I know, right?  Classic married problem.  Yuck.

But really.  I squeeze the paste from the bottom, put the cap on the toothpaste, clean my brush so it doesn't get nasties everywhere and I always rinse the sink after spitting.  Who could complain?

It wasn't good enough.  I wasn't putting the cap on tight enough.  Apparently there's air in the tube and if I don't create a seal then the toothpaste falls to the bottom.  I had no idea!  And I guess I do have a problem of twisting things on enough.  Which is why soy sauce was sprinkled over our whole fridge at one point.  I had merely twisted once instead of screwing it on.  I digress.

So, I learned some bathroom etiquette and beat Steven to bed.  All in a evening's work.

My Thoughts on Global Warming and Oregon and Staying in Utah

In college I had to do a research project on global warming.  I was taking geology because I couldn't stomach physics or chemistry, but let me tell you, it was no walk in the park.  The teacher must have known that words like chemistry and physics turn otherwise happy, partying, havin' a good time students into pillars of fear.  She wasn't giving any of us a break and looking back now, perhaps I could have gotten a better grade out of physics.

Our final project was to do a research poster on global warming.  I had to fight my way through a lot of questions to get my topic approved... global warming in the oceans.  And by oceans, I secretly meant whales, though I could never say that outloud.  This wasn't biology for goodness sakes, as the teacher kept reminding me.  But in the end I won.

I did my report on the ocean aka beluga whales.  It starts in the ocean, as you can suspect, as the belugas are wintering in the arctic they are eating krill.  Krill feast on a certain algea that cannot survive in water that varies even one degree.  It is a very small margin and everything must be perfect for this certain algae to grow and if there is no algae, there is no krill and with no krill there is no beluga.  And you know what?  That temperature change is happening and the algae isn't growing like it used to.

But, to bring this more back to home... Oregon is changing.  No 'global warming' is happening, that's for certain, but something is most definitely changing for the colder.  Whether anyone has scientifically looked into this or not, I have no idea, but I think they had better if they don't want to miss it.  'Cause right now we know that just one degree difference can send a chain of events into place that perhaps we would rather avoid.  And someone is going to be sad some day in 20 years when strawberries won't even grow in Oregon and everyone is asking 'when did this happen?' and the scientists look at their charts and say, oh... 2012.

Right.  You think I am fibbing?  I was married in 2010 and the reason I remember the change in the weather so well was that the seeds that we planted to have flowers ready for the middle of summer rotted in the ground.  It was that rainy.

The next year, 2011, The strawberries weren't ready until a week or two after school let out.  When I was picking strawberries we were out there after school in the evenings picking flats of berries.  Just a few of us.  But they were there.

This year, 2012, the berries rotted on the ground.  There just wasn't enough sun to turn them red (seriously, strawberries are more like humans than most believe) and there was too much rain.

I don't know what's going to happen next year, but it sure isn't going to be pretty.

Steven hollers every time I say this, but I really don't want to go back to Oregon.  It is soooo cold and wet!  And I don't think it's going to be changing anytime soon.  Sure, the Oregon I left in highschool was pretty awesome.  It was green, in more ways than one, people were weird and friendly, the weather was mild... it was all you could ever want.  But now, when I go back and it's too cold for shorts the end of July, I don't want to go back.  When Alaska is in need of a whole new wardrobe to visit her grandmas because here in Utah she runs around in a onesie all day we've got a problem.

There, I've said it.  I am not hating on Oregon.  After all, it made me the awesome person I am today, but it definitely isn't the same state I left it 6 years ago.  So, Oregon, clean up your act if you want me back.  Or... perhaps I will live in Oregon but where the rain isn't so frequent.  Like say Pendelton.  To do that I'll have to purchase a couple of horses as well.  You can't live in the biggest rodeo city and not have a horse.  Or maybe I'll stay in Utah forever.  Shhh, don't tell Steven.  But seriously, this has got to be the craft capital of the world.  Not to mention all of the modest clothing and the dry weather that allows your straightened hair to stay straight all day, even in the dead of winter.  It's bliss.