Happy 4th of July!

We headed to South Carolina for a 4th of July cookout yesterday. We had heard that fireworks are legal there, so we figured it would be more fun than just bumming around here. When I talked to Mindy (the friend hosting it), she said that we'd eat and then let the kids do sparklers, and that there would be some fireworks in the neighborhood we could watch. There were several other families invited (including Hen(g)ry's, much to Mabes' delight), and dinner was great and the kids had a blast.
As it got darker, we headed out front for sparklers, and noticed the occasional firework getting shot up. This was a whole new concept to me--back in the day, Fremont allowed firecrackers, and we had a blast with sparklers, piccolo petes, that spinning rose thing, etc. This is what I had been expecting. But in South Carolina, everything is legal. It's insane. From where we were, we could see 4 other displays in the neighborhood. And then a few of the men in our group pulled out their fireworks, and we got to watch some pretty cool fireworks right above our heads, along with some other crazy things they did in the street.
Mabes was thrilled. She had refused to nap earlier, despite my best effort to explain that if she took a good nap, she'd be well-rested and more able to enjoy the fireworks. Silly, Allison, when will you realize that your logic is lost on a two-year-old? Nonetheless, she was in a great mood and loved the fireworks. We had tried to explain it beforehand, but decided it would be best for her to see it for herself.
She ooohed and aaaahed (while Hen(g)ry covered his ears) and clapped and asked us if we saw the fireworks.



She was a little nervous about the closer ones, but was still intrigued.


As they were finishing the fireworks, she was ready to go home and kept talking about how she just wanted to get in her bed. But she had a blast and excitedly talked about it this morning, telling us how the fireworks went up in the sky and then "boom," demonstrating the explosion with her arms flailing.
So we've decided that Jeff--and maybe Dad and Doov--should book their tickets now for next 4th of July. I mean, given the time and money that Dad puts in to lighting up the house at Christmas, I'm sure he would have no problem spending $450 on 240 fireworks (again, these are the giant fireworks you see in real fireworks shows), and Jeff would have a ball setting them off.

You were warned

Remember my rant about the stupid milk here?

Looks like the crazy jugs will soon be sweeping the nation. You've been warned, and you might want to go out and get a few funnels to make pouring easier.

And I keep thinking I need to post more hilarious stories about Mabes. But we've been dealing with crazy mood swings ranging from whining/crying during the walk home from the pool ("Holdge me, mommy, holdge me! I'm scared!" I still don't know of what.), moaning during time out "I want to be happy!" (Okay, then stop crying!), and lots of hugging and cuddling (narrated, of course), so I feel like we don't have much hilarity right now.

We did get to venture next door yesterday to meet a new family that moved into our ward. Mabes was having a great time until she had the first accident she's had in weeks. And it was bad. Fortunately, I didn't realize the extent of it until we got home (she didn't soil the neighbors' apartment--phew!), and my heavens. I won't go into detail--I'll save that for a family dinner or something--but let's just say that when a child who has never been constipated due to having perhaps "looser"-than-usual stools has an accident, it's not pretty. I have a new "grossest poop ever" story. Dave has assured me that since the neighbors have four kids, they've probably experienced poop issues before, and they'll remember the dozen fresh chocolate chip cookies we took over more than the fact that Mabes is literally a party pooper. I'm still embarrassed, though.

And since I don't want to end with a poop story, here's my first attempt at braids. I need to work on it, and it will be a long time before I attempt French braids.

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.