Thankful, a Little Late

I really wanted to write a Thanksgiving "thankful" post, but everything I was thankful for would have been a dead giveaway for what I wasn't ready to announce just yet. But since you now all know anyway, here's my thankful list for 2010. And it's must be said these things are obviously after more serious things like my family, my testimony, my Savior, and my ability to bear life at all:

*Tums

*Ginger ale (the real deal; none of this Canada Dry business)

*Humidifiers

*Apples, apples, and more apples (they are proving to be my magic nausea antidote)

*Tylenol PM, and the dear, dear nurse who told me it was safe to take it while with child

*The movie Australia. Found it on sale at Target on Black Friday. Don't know exactly why this movie is calling to me at this particular point in time, but there you go. Something about it makes me feel better.

*The fact that my nausea this time around seems to be mostly controllable

*So far, no migraines like I got in the 1st and 2nd trimester last time

Side by Side

So, it's funny when your child turns 1; suddenly, there's a buzz. Suddenly you can tell that people are just awaiting the announcement of a second child. The question, "So how are you today?" is loaded with implications and hopes that you'll respond to those implications. So it's not with a little snarky satisfaction when people come into my home, look around, and see this on the refrigerator:

"Oh my gosh! What is that?!" they exclaim.

"Oh no," I say sweetly, laughing, "That's Will's."

I have never gotten over having his ultrasound pics hung up for all to see. Even though pregnancy is an experience best left forgotten, I remember the day of that ultrasound as the day that I found out I was going to have a son. It was the day, for me, which began the transformation from being merely a pregnant woman to becoming a mother. This wasn't just a baby; it was a boy. A man-cub, a man-child. Something about knowing the gender made my role as a mother a little more clear.

Right now, Will is in the best stage. I've been saying that for about 6 months, but it's true. This phase is so rewarding. I love that he is talking and carrying on conversations. I love that when I'm not understanding what he wants me to go see, he will simply slip his perfect hand in mine and lead me there. I love that he is nice to other kids. I love that he has personality and silliness just spilling out of him every waking moment. I love that he believes he is capable of anything. I love his infectious belly laugh, his kisses, and his random need to strip down to his diaper. I guess it's short-sighted, but I can't imagine motherhood being more rewarding than it is right now. Even when I am tired and frustrated, there is a sweetness that pervades my relationship with this little guy. Loving him has never been an option; it simply is.

Therefore, it is with even more satisfaction that when people come into the house from now on, they will see this:

Can't wait to meet Tinglet #2. Coming July 2011. Woot!

Spaghetti

Why I Am Not a Painter

BY FRANK O'HARA

"I am not a painter, I am a poet.

Why? I think I would rather be

a painter, but I am not. Well,

for instance, Mike Goldberg

is starting a painting. I drop in.

“Sit down and have a drink” he

says. I drink; we drink. I look

up. “You have SARDINES in it.”

“Yes, it needed something there.”

“Oh.” I go and the days go by

and I drop in again. The painting

is going on, and I go, and the days

go by. I drop in. The painting is

finished. “Where’s SARDINES?”

All that’s left is just

letters, “It was too much,” Mike says.

But me? One day I am thinking of

a color: orange. I write a line

about orange. Pretty soon it is a

whole page of words, not lines.

Then another page. There should be

so much more, not of orange, of

words, of how terrible orange is

and life. Days go by. It is even in

prose, I am a real poet. My poem

is finished and I haven’t mentioned

orange yet. It’s twelve poems, I call

it ORANGES. And one day in a gallery

I see Mike’s painting, called SARDINES."

Today has been one of those days when it's difficult to remember the importance of what I am doing. I'm tired, and for the first time ever, I got tired of hearing, "Mama!" for the umpteenth time. I want a break with no responsibility more than hearing a massage therapist tell me it's time to turn over. But, as I keep reminding myself, all the tedious little parts of being a mom are important. All of them. It bothers me to ear the older sisters in Relief Society talk about how, looking back, they wish they had spent less time worrying about keeping the house clean, etc. The truth is, it's as important as any part of it. Kids respond to the atmosphere they live in. We can love them and teach them what is right, but if we don't have a home that is comfortable and inviting, our children won't feel comfortable there. And if they don't feel comfortable at home, chances are they're going to seek out wisdom from sources other than their parents.

I remembered this poem that I studied for one of my literature classes at the U. I loved it then, and it's taken on new meaning for me tonight. Something about how the seemingly insignificant and mundane things we do everyday still matter. In the end, there were no sardines in the painting and no oranges in the poems. If the titles of the respective artworks hadn't been "Sardines" and "Oranges," no one would have ever known those concepts had anything to do with the finished product, when, really, the original concept of them was instrumental in how the finished piece turned out. What brush strokes existed before the ones you see in front of you? Do they matter, or don't they? I'm inclined to think that they do, even if the ultimate, finished piece IS more important.

Sometimes I wish someone was here to bear witness of all the strokes, from the blank canvas to the finished product. I wish someone could see the living room for the first 10 minutes after I've picked up all the toys, or the kitchen floor before it gets re-muddled. It seems everything a mother and homemaker does can be undone again oh so easily. It takes some serious inspiration to have the motivation to keep going and to keep believing, every day, that all these little things make a difference. Some days, I admit, I don't think they do.

And then, just now, Will comes and wraps his arms around my neck and whispers, "Mama," so sweetly. A far cry from the demanding tone of the same word just an hour ago. And somehow I know, with just that one expression, that it DOES matter, that I AM making a difference, that somehow, somewhere in his tiny little body, all of these boring, mindless tasks are registering. Somehow they actually are communicating to him that he is a loved, respected, and valued member of this family.

He knows he's being taken care of. Somehow, it translates. Somehow, it's all worth it.

The Giants won the World Series. There was MUCH rejoicing in our home.

Will was a skeleton for Halloween, but as he is in constant motion, this was the best I got.

He has started a new phase; I'm not really sure what to call it, but is entails him stripping off all the clothes he knows how. This is was he looks like some days when the mood strikes him right:

And lastly, for more than a month now, at least one person in this household has been ill. I THINK we're starting to come out of it. But for a while, we all felt like this:

It's Autumn Time!

I love autumn time. The ONLY thing I dislike about it is the fact that winter is right around the corner. As we speak, it's snowing outside. Yuck and yuck. I love autumn-type things, though: roasting vegetables, apple cider, changing leaf colors, sweaters/jackets/long-sleeved t's, the crisp air. Most invigorating.

This year we spent fall break up in Washington with my parents. We (me and Chris) celebrated our birthdays there, and got to take Will to a farm/pumpkin patch. I haven't been to a place like this since I was little. Heaps of fun. Will loved it, and his favorite new word is pumpkin, pronounced "punkin."

On the flight home, I peeked out the window as we were landing, and found that sections of the Great Salt Lake had turned a vibrant pink. Wild, huh?

Cutest. Kid. Ever.

Well, two things are pretty much certain these days: 1.) my baby is no longer a baby, but a LITTLE BOY, doing and saying little boy things, and 2.) he's pretty much the cutest things you've ever seen. This little boy is such a joy to be mom to. I sincerely can't imagine a better kid. He's so very sweet and good natured that it even makes up for the fact that this last Sunday he took off running just as the sacrament was being passed, and Chris and I actually had to run up to the front of the chapel to surround and corral him. Mort-if-y-ing.

Here are some recent pics from my phone:

Some bits about this little guy:

*Loves to spit, thanks to Madagascar, which he calls "way, way" (Move It, Move It)

*"Punkin, punkin!" (It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown) is probably his favorite show ever. Half the day he wanders around talking about "Punkin, punkin." We're trying to get a good video; it cracks us up every time.

*Loves to clean up. If he finds a wipe or a dish towel, he begins wiping down whatever surface is nearest.

*Has an extensive vocabulary for his age, though half of what he says only Chris and I can understand.

*Loves to sing from the primary children's songbook.

*Has loved seeing Grandma Tingey, Grandma Higgs, and Pop-Pop all within the last few weeks.

We spent Chris's fall break in WA with my parents; I've got some great pics but want to edit them first. It was a great trip. Chris and I are so lucky to have come from such amazing families.

Lose For Good!

Hey, everyone! Every year the Weight Watchers organization has a charity drive called Lose For Good. The idea is that people who are trying to lose weight donate food based on how much weight they've lost. They collect can donations for local Food Banks, which are sorely in need of donations, especially as the holiday season will soon be upon us. Last year they raised a $1 million for a charity to help fight world hunger. This year, you can help.

TODAY ONLY, people can write blogs, "like" Lose For Good on Facebook, or comment on a blog post (like this one!) about the Lose For Good campaign. For every "like" they receive, or for every blog post like this one, for every comment left on this blog, Weight Watchers will donate money toward this Lose For Good challenge. So, go ahead! Leave me a comment. And if you're interested in getting involved in other ways, you can visit this Lose For Good link.

I've lost 5 lbs (yay!) on WW in the last couple of months. They're a great organization, so get involved!

Feeling Crafty

As I've mentioned in previous posts, I've got a bit of a yearning to be creative and crafty lately. Suddenly I want to learn how to do... well, pretty much everything: sewing, needlepoint, cross stitch, embroidery. You name it, chances are I want to learn it. Last night I was wandering through Joann Fabric, and it has totally opened my eyes to the possibilities of being able to create things myself. Right now I've got a couple of specific projects I want to make: a quilt of my favorites of W's onesies, and Christmas stockings. Yes, that's right, I said Christmas. But if I'm going to make them, now is definitely the time to get going on them.

I've been scouring the internet and boutique shops around town for the "perfect" Christmas stocking patterns, and I've come to two solid conclusions: 1. It doesn't exist, so I'm going to have to make it up myself. 2. I MUST learn how to embroider.

Some super creative people out there are blogging about their crafty talents, and showing this generation how hobbies that were once (sorry) old-lady-ish can be fresh and new and relevant in our modern world. Check out Feeling Stitchy. Seriously, people, I need to learn how to embroider. In my head, I'm envisioning a fine knit cream-colored stocking: one side embroidered monogram, the other some sort of decoration. Each stocking similar in template but individualized for each person. Lined on the inside to protect against years of holding chocolate and other candies; as well as to help the knit keep its shape. I think the embroidered owl would be cute for W's stocking. But this opens up a whole new world for me. And lots more blog searching.

Wild Card

One of my favorite things about being a homemaker is time flexibility. I love that, at the drop of a hat, my friends can call on me when they need something and I can come through for them. There's almost nothing that can't be put off until tomorrow. Positive procrastination. I think I'm on to something. I'm not "just a mom," I'm a jack of all trades, a wild card. I can be/do what someone needs me to be/do at (almost) any given time. I know a lot of people who probably look at that sentiment and roll their eyes--who wants to live a life solely to serve other people? Well, in truth, not me. I desperately miss my alone time to work on all my fun creative projects (oh knitting needles, we WILL meet again!). However, being able to help other people and just doing the simple things I need to do to keep my life and home in order provide me with immense satisfaction. For example, my amazing writer friend (Sheralyn Pratt, check out her books!) just got an in with Random House IF she can get her completed manuscript tomorrow. And guess who she asked to help her edit? C'est moi! Sheralyn's awesome. This is a huge honor. So, now I eagerly await her manuscript in my inbox.

Some things I've been able to do lately in my coveted role as Wild Card:

*Edit Sheralyn's drafts

*Take my pregnant friend to the ER when she had APPENDICITIS (yikes, can you imagine?)

*Organizing a mom/baby swim group for the cooler months

Other things the Tingeys have been up to lately:

*Me: Making FHE visual aids (and let me tell you, they make a difference!)

*Chris: Starting his new semester

*Will: Learning to say 'Sorry,' 'Please,' and 'Thank You.'

*Me: Writing an essay for an essay contest (grand prize $3,000 and a trip to NYC to meet the mag's editors!)

*Chris: Finding a new counselor for the EQ presidency. Done!

*Will: Singing songs out of the primary children's songbook

*Me: Couponing my way into hundreds of free/inexpensive items (just today was dbl coupon day at Smith's. $100 worth of groceries for $40? Yes, please!)

*Chris: Putting up (and ever so graciously) w/my insatiable appetite for girly BBC movies. The Anthony Trollope collection. The Elizabeth Gaskell collection. And, of course: Pride and Prejudice.

*Will: Holding mom's hand as we walk down the hall. Taking Curious George to the grocery store. Losing my Costco card while we were there today. Eating ever so many blueberries.

*All of us: Church, church, church. Hanging out with our families while they were here. Eating more nutritious meals.

What a great little family I have!

Hard at Work

Facts about Will:

*Loves to work in his "office" we've set up for him in the guest room (note the mouse doubles as his executive phone)

*Favorite song: "Downtown," by Petula Clark (which he sings while working in his office)

*Likes to lip sync to Chris Issak's "Pretty Girls Don't Cry"

*Tells jokes to himself in his car seat

*Likes to help fold laundry

*Loves his stuffed-animal monkeys, especially Ganz the gorilla

*Folds his arms at prayer times and sometimes helps say the prayer

*Adores his cousin Ethan and Auntie Debbie

*Is currently covered in Spaghetti-O's

Oh no

Will is dipping everything in ketchup. His peppers. His olives. His cheese quesadilla. I was afraid it would come to this.

And now he's mixing the ketchup with the honey mustard. Time to lock up the ketchup bottle before he can actually say the word and ask for it. I'm much more comfortable pretending I don't understand what he's talking about.

Guy With Guitar Music Summer Playlist: A Long Rant Followed by Some Exceptional Groovy Tunes

While growing up, it seems like my musical tastes were constantly shifting. I was listening to what my parents played because I was too young to buy music; or, when I could buy music, too inexperienced to buy music I'd still like for more than a few months. I guess finding one's long-term musical preferences is all part of the self-discovery of teen and young adult years.

I'll be the first to admit that I am heavily influenced by what the people around me are listening to. I used to worry this meant I was weak-willed, but I've learned that it has more to do with the fact that I like experiencing new things. I have always been interested in looking at things from new angles. Even if I don't agree with something, I enjoy the mental exercise.

That said, it does seem that I am starting to form a musical flavor all my own. I can say pretty confidently that I am NOT interested in bubble gum pop. It offends me not only because it sports with my intelligence (anyone with a rhyming dictionary could write those lyrics), but because in my opinion it's the wolf in sheep's clothing in the music industry. It is made to sound so innocent, so kid-friendly, all the while promoting promiscuity (what they call love) and a pervasive attitude that reaches beyond materialism and into the never-satiated state of mind of being glamorous. It's even on the Disney channel. These girls are, what, 13 years old? And they're already made up to look like sexual objects. Yuck. Does no one else find this disturbing?

Country is better, but the womanizing, honky-tonk, let's-get-drunk type songs just make my skin crawl. Pretty sure that sound isn't going to be making its way back into my musical lexicon any time soon.

Let's not talk about muzak, k?

A few months ago, Chris and I were discussing my musical tastes, and I was saying how I don't really know what I would call my style; I couldn't think of any over-arching term to encompass my cross-genre eclecticism. He sort of giggled under his breath, said, "It's guy-with-guitar music!"

Friends, this is pretty accurate, but I'd redefine the description as a propensity toward the singer-songwriter tradition. After all, I listen to Eva Cassidy, Carole King, Carly Simon, Grace Slick (pre Starship days), Janis Joplin, and Joni Mitchell as well. And it must also be said for the sake of my sanity that I also enjoy a healthy dose of classical music, jazz, MoTab and movie instrumentals.

But Guy-with-Guitar Music is definitely my favorite and I propose we make it an official genre starting...NOW! Whew. Summer time is especially filled with these troubadour types; something about the sounds just makes me feel like I'm on the beach, trying to block out my siblings' silly antics to get me to look up from my book. And so I thought I'd pass a long what I'm listening to this summer. I guarantee you'll like at least one of them.

Becca's Summer Playlist:

1. "Three Little Birds," Bob Marley & the Wailers

2. "Pretty Girls Don't Cry," Chris Isaak

3. "Brown-Eyed Girl," Van Morrison

4. "Who Loves the Sun," The Velvet Underground

5. "Invisible Sun," The Police

6. "Love Will Keep Us Alive," The Eagles

7. "Banana Pancakes," Jack Johnson

8. "Dusk and Summer," Dashboard Confessional

9. "Better Together," Jack Johnson

10. "Making Memories of Us," Keith Urban

11. "Going Back to Georgia," Adam Duritz & Nanci Griffith

12. "For What It's Worth," Buffalo Springfield

13. "Long Cool Woman," The Hollies

14. "F-Stop Blues," Jack Johnson

15. "Skinny-Dippin' Girl," Joe Purdy

16. "Lay Lady Lay," Bob Dylan.

17. "I'm Yours," Jason Mraz

18. "Any Colour You Like," Pink Floyd

So, there you go. Check it out. And let me know: What are YOU listening to this summer?

The Appendix: A 4th of July Metaphor

This last weekend, my dear sister Debbie came up for the patriotic festivities. We had plans to watch our latest fascination, The Way We Live Now, an extraordinarily captivating BBC movie based on the novel by Anthony Trollope (thanks, Renee!!). We had three more episodes to watch. On Friday night after W was asleep, we settled in to watch the next episode. Within just a few minutes, Debbie was crying and writhing in pain--not from the dramatic story, I'm afraid. Long story short, we were up all night in the ER waiting for her to get into surgery for an appendectomy.

For those who are unfamiliar with appendicitis, let me give you as much as I know. The appendix is a small organ roughly the size of your pinky finger on any average day. It has no use to speak of, but when inflamed, it swells and will spew deadly toxins into your body unless quickly removed. These days, if you undergo surgery for any other abdominal reason, it's fairly common to remove the appendix even if it's not causing any trouble (kind of like when you're in SoCal visiting relatives; you're there for one reason, but Disneyland is so very nearby, so you might as well): there's no reason to leave in a life-threatening, useless organ, right?

In any case, suffice it to say I was still recovering from the sleeplessness yesterday at lunch when we grilled hot dogs as part of our 4th celebrations. As we indulged in this all-American tradition, I began to wax poetic (as I am wont to do on very little shut-eye and on special occasions). Consider this: On the 4th of July, we celebrate the day we officially kicked the British out. The British (or at least the British sovereignty) had become an unnecessary appendage to to the thriving colonies on the expansive American continent; and the colonies were tired of living under the tyranny and oppressive taxation of a distant government they were allowed no part in. Rather like the appendix, no?

Something Tells Me It's All Happening at the Zoo, etc.

Lately I have been having so much fun being a mom. I think it's the stage Will's in. He's so curious and interested in everything and it's magical to be part of his discoveries. And he has a handful of words and does a lot of animals noises. He's interacting on a whole new level and I am loving it, loving him. I could just gobble him up all day long. Ask him what a birdie says, and you'll want to gobble him up, too. Yum.

So among our fun adventures these days, we've been going to the zoo with the zoo pass my parents gave him (and us!) for W's birthday. The first time, he loved the monkeys. Then it was the ostrich (he was in a FIT of giggles watching one of them eat. Seriously. People stopped and stared at W, because he was laughing so hard). Last time, the penguins.

This is how Will usually looks on marinara night:

Father's Day was lots of fun. Lately Chris and Will have been on a fort-building kick. Chris makes these really elaborate forts throughout the living room--they have tunnels and everything! He's a great dad.

Will still loves story time, but has a difficult time sitting still or reading just one book at a time.

In a couple of weeks, my mom will get home from Italy and will be coming to Salt Lake City for a culinary externship at Les Madeleines--and just guess who is going to hit her up for some free kouing aman? I am so excited for her to be here and hang out with her for a whole five weeks!

I also heard yesterday that James Taylor (my all-time FAVORITE!) and Carole King (whom I've never seen but would l-o-v-e to) will be here in SLC on July 15. This girl really needs to find a way to be there. Even if I have to go all by myself. I'd be in Heaven. Anyway. I think I've said quite enough. Hope you enjoyed the pics.

The New 'Do

So.... I was playing around with the new blogger templates today and changed mine to one that I was NOT at all crazy about...and have spent hours trying to figure out how to get it back to what it was. I couldn't. As mentioned in an earlier post, my computer skills leave something to be desired. Ahem. So I figured I'd try working with the new template system, not against it. And voila! Isn't this the cutest? As soon as I learned how to manipulate the new templates, I fell in love. Hard. So, this is the background for a while, but... I'll probably change it. As in, frequently. Because there were so many cute things to choose from! So. A new background for every mood. Congratulations to me.

Amster-, Amster- Sh, sh, sh!

So this was a special trip for my older brother Rob to show us around his mission. We went to the Netherlands, Belgium and Koln, Germany, but I somehow have no pics from the latter two places.

Dad and Rob in the rental car at the airport. See how excited we were to be there?

At the train station in Amsterdam (hereafter to be called A-dam, for brevity's sake). And this photo is important to me on another level, because pretty much everyone says I look like my dad, which is a compliment, but look how much my mom and I look alike here!

I've heard A-dam called the Venice of northern Europe, because it is a city of bridges. Therefore, we took a boat ride to tour the city and see what there was to see. Rob being punk on the boat.

Dad being punk.

I don't know what any of these buildings are, but I really appreciated the architecture in A-dam.

My sentiments exactly:

Several (if not all) of the buildings had these hooks at the top of the structures, because the buildings are so narrow and squished together: you can't bring furniture of the stairs, so you have to use a pulley and hoist them up and bring them in through the windows.

The tulip fields at Keukenhof (K-hof). We went in May, but apparently that's the end of the tulip harvesting season, because, as you see, the fields were bare. But there was still a beautiful park/garden to walk around.

This lady was making these HUGE bubbles. I'd never seen anything like it before and it was amazing.

Can you even believe that?

Pretty Mom!

Beating up Rob. What's a little sibling rivalry here and there?

View from our hotel in Noordwijk, which was actually my favorite stop on our whole trip and I didn't get any pictures! It was an adorable little coastal town, where I finally tasted bami, an Indonesian dish that is popular in the Netherlands. YUM! The food on this trip could take up an entirely different post. In fact I think the only bad meal I had on this trip was at an Egyptian restaurant in Antwerp (which, by the way, means "Hand-throwing" in Dutch). I tried lamb. It was rubbery. And I don't want to think about it anymore.

We also visited Delft, the setting for Girl with a Pearl Earring, which I read while I was there, not knowing it was going to take place there. That was a really neat experience. Delft is also origin of this well-known fashion:

We also went to the beautiful city of Brugge (in Dutch, Brugges to the French-speaking part of the city). This was another beautiful city of bridges and is lucky to be preserved. So much of the Netherlands and Belgium were damaged during WWII, but Brugge escaped bombing because this is where Hitler kept Eva Braun. And, alas, I have no pictures. But there we ate real Belgian waffles, and my mother fell in love with one of our waiters one night when he pronounced her name, "Juaneece." This is also the city where I infamously ordered the "Kass schotel" for dessert, thinking it was a cheese Danish. Imagine my surprise when they brought me out a GIANT platter of an assortment of cheeses. Which were very tasty, but nothing like a cheese Danish. My dad and brother still laugh when they recall the expression on my face. I mean, this platter was HUGE!!! Oh. And apparently, this city holds the cup of Christ's blood from the cross (along with a dozen other European cities, right?)