Mad Props

I was going to email this to Sarah and Laura, but I decided to post it here for all to enjoy. I particularly appreciated the paragraph on "it is what it is"--if you say that near me, I may well punch you. He doesn't mention "think outside the box," probably because that has moved into its own category far beyond the four mentioned.

Which catchphrases should be "thrown under the bus"?

And while I'm talking about random non-Mabes-related things, why aren't all pencils #2? Why is there a 2 1/2? I think they even make a 2 3/4. Why? These are the pointless discussions we have at 11 pm, preventing us from getting to sleep at a decent time. I got the puttering gene from Grandma O.

Talk like a Mabes

More and more, Mabes is making up words when she doesn't know the name for something. Or just when she thinks a different word should be used. Breasts are "stuff," tampons are "smackers" (and their sole use is as drumsticks), poops are "floppies" (which apparently jump out of her booty and into the toilet--she narrates everything), elevators are alligators, cicadas are pisgetti (?), and anything she doesn't know a word for is some variation of "mayo." When I had a cold recently, she'd get mad at me when I sniffed and told me not to "skonk." Interesting, as when I was that age, I called things in your nose "stonks."

Anything that can somehow be related to her much-adored and much-admired cousin Ainsleigh, will be. String cheese from Trader Joe's is Ainsleigh Cheese--it used to be Ainsleigh-Dono cheese, but Dono got dropped. Sorry buddy. A big girl bed is an Ainsleigh bed, a single ponytail is an Ainsleigh ponytail, and a pretty dress is an Ainsleigh dress. Actually, she pronounces it "Ainswee," but you get the idea. She loves her cousin.

And I don't know if it's the heat, a phase she's going through, or what, but she is napping right now, and has napped 4 out of 5 days this week. Suh-weet! I was beginning to think I was crazy, as I have also been ridiculously tired the last few weeks. I had no clue why (no, it's not the first thought that popped into your head--and yes, I'm sure). I've been averaging close to 7 hours of sleep a night, which for me is awesome, eating more fruits and veggies, and I've been fairly active. And yet I feel like I'm dragging all day. But seeing how tired Mabes has been this week--it must be the heat. If anyone has a miracle energy boosting ideas, I'm all ears.

Like two peas in a crazy, crazy pod

Becca (aka Bacon) came to visit this week, the last of our steady stream of visitors from my family. A couple of weeks before her visit, we realized that her visit coincided with Dave's annual trip to Amsterdam, which got bumped up a week this year, so they would completely miss each other. Boo.

Becca and Mabes get along great. Becca refers to Mabes as her mini-me, which surprised me because if you take away the curls, Mabes is my mini-me. Personality-wise, though, she is a lot like Becca. As we were heading to the airport, Mabes was talking about getting Becca and then I realized she was saying, "And I'm going to say 'BLAAAAAA' to Becca!" (Because if you ask her what Aunt Becca says, the answer is "BLAAAAA!" That's what they're shouting in this picture.) When we got Becca, much madness ensued and there was lots of yelling and screaming with Becca yelling "I'm so happy to be here! I'm so happy you remember me!" and Mabes yelling "Yay! Becca's here!" Becca was pretty close to tears but was also laughing really hard. They were both really wired and happy, and Mabes kept saying "Thank you, mommy, for getting Becca from the airport!" As if she'd been living there and we finally decided let her stay with us.

The next morning, Mabes was up bright and early at 6:30, excited to take us up on our promise to go swimming. AHA! There's one difference between Mabes and Becca: Mabes isn't a fan of sleep, and Becca needs more sleep than a 2-year-old. We headed to the pool, where we spent a good chunk of the week.
We also headed to South Carolina, so Becca could add one more state to her "been there" list, and to pick peaches, as strawberry picking season was over. Much to my disappointment, we got there and found out that there weren't enough peaches to pick our own, but we were able to buy some already picked. Needing something beyond a basket of peaches to justify the drive, we decided to get some homemade strawberry ice cream and eat it on the store's porch. I felt bad that Becca missed out on the fruit picking experience, but she assured me that eating ice cream and watching cars drive by on a country road was much more fun. (The picture is a bit shady, but this way you can see all the trees and how cute the area is.)

Since Becca's birthday was a couple of weeks ago, we decided to celebrate while she was here. And by celebrate, I mean eat cake and wear party hats. We're all about finding excuses to eat cake. Mabes was thrilled with this, and slightly disappointed that there were no presents. She didn't understand why giving Becca money to buy a popcorn popper was the greatest present ever. She'll get it someday. Nonetheless, helping Becca blow out the candles and then eating the confetti cake made her day. I think she enjoyed it more than Becca.
On another day, Mabes and Becca were coloring and Becca got this idea that she was going to make a special drawing for Mabes. She kept shielding her work from Mabes, which then made Mabes all the more determined to see what it was. "It's a surprise, Em, just wait!" Yes, Becca is 21. She just reverts to a 6-year-old when coloring. After shoo-ing Mabes away several times, Becca proudly announced that the picture was done and handed it to an eager Mabes, whose reaction was priceless. She studied the work of art for a minute, her eyes lighting up as she realized what it was. "Mommy! Look! She drew Becca and Mabes...and we're HOLDING HANDS! And wearing dresses! And there's a rainbow! And we're holding hands! It's Mabes and Becca! Oh, I LOVE it!" And thus continued the gushing, and she ran over to Becca and held her hand, looking at the picture to make sure she had the pose just right. "Oh, it's cute. I love my surprise!"
So it was a fun, crazy week, with much happy yelling and running around. Becca left yesterday and I think Mabes was a little annoyed with how boring and quiet it is when it's just us. Sorry, kid. Dave will be home soon, though.

Happy Father's Day!

(pictures from June 2007)

Mabes would like to take this opportunity to wish Dave a Happy Father's Day. Unfortunately, Dave is traveling for work right now, so this blog post and the card we ever-so-secretively snuck into his suitcase are the extent of our Father's Day celebrations.


I asked Mabes why she likes Daddy, and her response was a simple "He play with me!" She went on to talk about playing hide and seek, playing trains, coloring, and going on walks. I was trying to think of something beyond that, like "he's supportive and I know he loves me unconditionally." But then I remember she's 2.

But she knows that after dinner is playtime with Daddy, and Saturday mornings are Daddy/Mabes time while Mommy sleeps in. She knows that if Daddy's watching TV, she can grab a book and he'll happily read to her. She knows that when Daddy sees her after a long workday, he's happy. And she knows that even if Daddy isn't home to tuck her in at night, he loves her and wishes he could be there.

So while she may never understand how much her father loves her, she knows that he spends as much time as he can with her. And for that, he's already her hero.

Mabes with the picture she colored today--she's shouting "I love you, Daddy!"

And Happy Father's Day to my own dad. I'm sure Laura or someone will post a picture of my dad and his supplementary angle pose (come on, someone has that, right?), which perfectly highlights his silly side. You see, my dad has an awesome sense of humor. He can be witty and sharp one minute, then completely silly the next. From an early age, I marveled at how smart he is--he knew all the answers on Double Dare, and most of the answers on Jeopardy--and those questions were really hard. When he turned 35, I was really surprised he didn't run for President. I mean, he was old enough, everybody liked him, and he was so smart surely he could end the Cold War, so why not? My 8-year-old brain couldn't figure it out.

While the intelligence and humor are great qualities, I think I appreciate his honest advice and listening ear the most. Even if he doesn't tell me what to do, there's something about talking things through with him that leaves me with a sense of calm and the ability to handle problems I'd previously thought were impossible.

Happy Father's Day, Pappy.

8

Today is our 8th anniversary. I feel like I should write Dave a love letter proclaiming my feelings for the world (or the 5 people that read this blog) to see. But I'm not that kind of person--anything beyond smacking a sister's butt mid-hug is the extent of my public displays of affection.

I will say that the last 8 years haven't been what I expected. It's been a lot harder, and I certainly wasn't expecting it to be easy. We've dealt with things I never could have imagined, both happy and sad. But I also don't think I expected marriage to be this fun. Silly, since my parents seem to have quite a bit of fun together. Dave is truly my best friend, and there are times I'm quite convinced that no one else laughs as much as we do.

He puts up with me--believe me, I'm not an easy person to live with. Just ask my sisters or former roommates. He would argue that my random quirks are worth it for the chocolate chip cookies, popcorn, and tri-tip, but I still think I got the better end of the deal.

He's an amazing dad and Mabes couldn't love him more. He's incredibly hard working and always putting others first, evidenced by the fact that he worked all day (through the anniversary dinner I prepared--I'm not bitter, I understand, and he feels bad so this isn't a guilt trip, just an illustration of my point) then ran next door and spent 2 hours helping a new family in our ward move in, and then he'll go back to work for a while.

Reminiscent shout-outs to Wendy and Jeni, thank you for dragging me to his and Brett's apartment nearly 10 years ago, to Emily and Cami for helping to hatch the very 7th grade "scheme" (with a script!) that was ultimately responsible for us getting together, and Andrea and Catherine, two of my best friends growing up, for taking a break from studying for finals and flying across the country (respectively) to wait outside the temple when we got married and experience all the other joys and craziness of an LDS wedding. You'll never know how much that means to me.

And of course my parents and Grandpa Ostler, for all their advice. There's nothing I can write that could capture their brilliance and wisdom, but I truly appreciate all they've done. My family is awesome. I just feel the need to brag about them occasionally. As I was cooking dinner, I was wondering if it was weird that I feel the need to eat red meat on special occasions. Because that's the way Ostlers roll.

Sweet!

Because Mabes hasn't been napping, it has made her nighttime sleep worse and caused her to wake up earlier and earlier. This morning, she was up at 6:15. I woke up with a sore throat and general achiness, so when seeing if she'd play quietly in her room didn't work, Dave played with her while I tried to go back to sleep until 7. But the sore throat made that difficult.

It's been hot (mid-90s) and humid (ewww) lately, so I decided the best thing to do would be to head to the park before it got too hot and then go grocery shopping at Super Target. It was ridiculously hot when we got to the park, but oh well. Mabes had a blast saying hello to the turtle, hello to the duck and her ducklings, and playing in the sand with a new friend. I was chatting it up with new friend's grandma when the girls decided they were ready to leave the sandbox. Friend went to her grandpa, Em ran to the swings. I was saying good-bye and heading towards Mabes when she started screaming. Now, if there's one thing to know about Mabes it's that screaming/general loudness is very common when she's excited or mad, but not when she's hurt. When she gets hurt, reactions range from "Ow, I bumped my elbow" and it's bleeding now or crying for a whole 30 seconds when she scraped up her face. So I immediately started sprinting towards her because it had to be something serious.

Instinctively, I blew the giant black bug off her leg before getting a good look at it. I picked her up and she was sobbing, but I think it probably only lasted maybe a minute and then turned to little whimpers. The grandma came over and was looking at it, and I was just wondering if it was a bee sting or a wasp--and what do you do in those cases? There was no swelling, though, no stinger and her leg looked fine. The grandpa said, "Oh, it was probably a horsefly! Those things hurt!" What? They bite? When he said that, it made sense--it seemed like the bug looked like a giant housefly, but why on earth would Mabes be screaming about a fly on her leg? But as we were walking out to the cars, the grandma swatted something away and said, "Yep, it must have been a horsefly--one just landed on me!" Poor Mabes; in reading up on horsefly bites, they don't sound fun.

Thankfully, due to the heat, I had packed our drinks in one of those collapsible coolers with ice packs--that was great in helping her leg feel better. Guess I'll be toting one of those all summer, since you never know when you'll need ice water or an ice pack! Then Mabes decided that she needed to swing, and she was completely fine after that.

Then we headed out to do some grocery shopping, and I was rear-ended. The lady was really nice, though when we pulled over she was really concerned about Mabes. Showing what a great mom I am, I hadn't really thought about that. In my defense, it was a really just a bump and Mabes said, "DUDE!" (as she does whenever I slam on my breaks) and then "Oh, that's a crazy noise! Freaky!" So I guess I had just assumed that since she was saying dude, crazy, and freaky, she was fine. We exchanged info and the damage is very minimal, but I don't like dealing with any car issues.

Rather than looking at it as the pickle on the crap sandwich that has been my day, I'm trying to be more positive. You know, "when you've reached the end of your rope, tie a knot and start swinging!" (Let me clarify that this is a bit of an inside joke that Dave quotes often and makes me both laugh and want to punch him in the face--just so you don't think I've turned into a total sap who would like a copy of "14,000 Things to be Happy About" for Christmas.) So for the good things: Mabes is taking a nap, which automatically boosts my day by about 1000 points, I love air-conditioning, I'm making a "summer dinner" using a new pasta salad recipe and pairing it with watermelon and corn on the cob, and I got ice cream sandwiches at Target and I plan on devouring all of them tonight. Okay, maybe not all, but I reserve that right should my afternoon not go well. Oh, and DDO (aka Dancey Dance Off, aka So You Think You Can Dance, but it's easier to type DDO. All possible future references to the show will be DDO) is on. It takes a simple person to be satisfied with reality TV and ice cream sandwiches, but hey, I never claimed to be complex.

And a special birthday shout out to Becca--happy birthday, poops! We called and sang to her voicemail, and Mabes wanted to make her a cake and have a party, but that will have to wait until she comes to visit next week. And I'm putting one picture at the top of this post because it makes me happy, and therefore should be the first thing you see. Not the most flattering picture (sorry, Bacon!) , but it perfectly describes their relationship--Becca and Mabes are kindred spirits. It kind of scares me, but mostly I just laugh. Becca is awesome, and I'm so glad she pulled out of that annoying/selfish/bratty teenager stage (not a slam against Becca, we all acknowledge we had an annoying age), because I now consider her one of my best friends. We always thought Mom was slightly delusional, if not completely full of it, when she said someday our sisters would be our best friends. As always, Mom was right. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BACON!

And a high-five for Doov in passing his driving test and getting his license on the first try. Sorry, Dave, I didn't see your text until today, so congratulations! I can't believe you're driving. When I was looking at the license of the lady/girl that hit me, she was saying something about dropping her daughter off at daycare and I saw that according to her license, she was born in 1984. My first thought was, "How can you have a daughter, you're 16!" Then I realized that she was actually 24, and I felt old. And now I feel even older knowing that "little Dave" is driving. Just be careful and don't rear-end anyone.

Two things

First, Mabes' nursery lesson today was "I am thankful for my eyes." Awesome. Even better that the teacher brought sunglasses for each child to remember that they are thankful for their eyes. As you may have been able to tell, Mabes loves sunglasses, so this lesson went over extremely well.

Here she is, with her sunglasses and Rocket, courtesy of Laura.

Second, I have to apologize to all those movies/tv shows I made fun of, when people run out in the rain and get soaked after a minute. I always thought that was hilarious because rain is never like that. Maybe once a year, but come on, what are the odds? Well, this week, I was set straight.

I've lived in North Carolina for less than a year and despite being in a drought, we've had crazy downpours like that many, many times. Dave says that's normal. And I'm feeling like a big ol' idiot because seriously, it almost never rains like that in California. I mean, we had "showers," but the rain on Wednesday was like an actual shower. And don't get me started on Oregon--yes, it seems rainy, but it's more of a constant drizzle. When people complained about the rain, Oregonians were all-too eager to point out that it doesn't rain any more in Oregon than it does in New York. Our good friend and New Yorker Nyea would quickly retort, "Yeah, well, in New York, it rains like it means it one day, then it's sunny for 5 or 6."

And it serves me right. I was so proud of myself for getting all cute--skirt, cute top, dangly earrings, cute flip flops, sleek hair--and I was soaked to the skin in the few seconds it took me to run from Target to my car. Seriously. I had to squeeze the water out of my skirt and sit on a plastic bag in my car. And why did I bother with a skirt when it was going to rain? Because it was warm, and it never rains when it's warm. Unless you're in Hawaii or Florida, but that's vacation so it doesn't count. Dave just laughs and says "Welcome to hurricane season!" Heh.

So is this how it is everywhere on the east coast? Everywhere but the west coast? This is madness, I tell you. Madness.