Tuesday, September 30, 2008


It is interesting to note the trials people are asked to go through, and to wonder what mine look like to someone on the outside.

Stephanie Nielson was severely burned in a plane crash. She was a physically beautiful young woman. She will never look the same again. Her face was burned and they had to rebuild her nose and ears from cartilage from other parts of her body. She is now undergoing skin grafts in an attempt to recover her body. You can't tell me that physical beauty isn't important. People will stare at her wherever she goes because of the way she will look. This bothers me more than anything else. Her children will not recognize her when they finally get to see her. This is a tragedy. Are there parts of this accident that should bother me more than this? I don't know. I think that we (I) identify ourselves so much by the way we look that, were it to happen to me, I don't know how I would react to not seeing myself in the mirror. How would I react to my daughter expressing fear at the way I look? Would I be able to find myself in this new face? I want so much for her to be okay, and to look normal. I hope she will.

My friend Christian Adams died last week from heart failure, completely unexpectedly. He was 34. He leaves behind a wife and 2 little girls and a third on the way. He was a wonderful man. Unfailingly kind, sweet and happy. He had his trials, this I know, but he overcame the major ones. His lovely wife, she has had her trials as well. Big ones. And she overcame them. And now this...I can't imagine how she must feel right now. He was away from home when he died, wanting nothing more than to finish his business trip and get back home to his girls. I am comforted in my sorrow for his family with the knowledge that he is watching out for them from wherever he is. I know he loved them more than anything. What I don't know is why he had to go.

These things make my heart hurt.

Sunday, September 28, 2008


So, I haven't done much of the bloggety-blog on the crafty crap, it seems The Small One has been occupying all the bandwidth here, so I shall shift her to the side for a mo' and update the maybe one person who cares what I am working on.

I have just recently (almost) finished a delightful sweater based on a pattern I knit for the Ravelympics and which is posted somewhere on this blog. I don't yet have pics, as it isn't quite done. You see, it was knitted on some rather cheap size 8 circs, and being rather cheap, they have a stiffish cable, which is not at all useful for the magic looping. I tried to knit my sleeves on it, to no avail, I ended up with the most dreadful laddering, so I gave up. However, in transit to me, from the delightful shop known as Knitpicks, are the lovely Options interchangeable circs, which, I have been assured have a lovely not stiffish cable, but one that is nice and flexible with little memory, such as I desire and need for magic looping. I have also been assured by one in the know, that these needles do indeed rival Addi Turbos. Now, Addis being my most favorite needle in the world, I take that with a grain of salt. But, if they are even somewhat close to being as good as Addis, I shall be happy. This sweater is a thing of good report and praiseworthy and I am quite pleased with how it has turned out. Among other things, I look HOT ( in a good way) whilst wearing it.

As I am still waiting the arrival of said Options circs, I decided to go ahead and start my next sweater, which is a thing of beauty and a joy forever. Or it will be when I finish it. Last night, when I ought to have been doing myriad other things, I decided to dye some yarn for it. So, I skeined all my naked wool, put it in a pot and dumped some dye in varying shades of orange and brown on it. Lovely, lovely. I got a delightful semi solid in a nice rusty tone, pretty nearly exactly what I was going for. The only thing I would change? I wish I had made the dye a little more concentrated so the color was a touch darker. But, it is pretty! And, the thing I love about Kool-Aid/cake color dyeing? Completely non-toxic,which means I don't have to track down my dye pot or use non-food utensils, cause Kool-Aid is a food. Right? Also, not dangerous to the small one.

Now that I know I can actually knit a sweater in a decent amount of time, my head is teeming with ideas. What fun. All those Anthropologie sweaters I can't afford, I can just make! Damn, it is fun to be handy.

Small Steps

Small news to the world, but big news to us, The Small One is potty training for real!
She has been aware for some time (like a year) of her bodily functions and able to hold them when she chooses. Lately, she has become even more cognizant of said functions and decided that perhaps she can fully control them. (plus, she likes the little underwear!)
So, yesterday, we decided to give it a try for real. Gramma made The Small One some tiny unders, as said Small One's bum is extremely tiny. And for some reason, underwear doesn't come smaller than a 2T. Her blessed little bum is nowhere near a 2T. Gramma brought the underwear over, but I didn't put it on baby right away. I left the room to do something, and whilst gone heard grunts and groans and sounds of frustration. Returning to the front room, I found The Small One trying to put on the new unders (they were striped) over her pants and shoes. I asked if she would like to wear her new unders. Emphatic nods. So, I stripped her down and asked if she would like to go potty. Once again, emphatic nods and off she runs to the bathroom. She plants her Blues Clues potty seat on the toilet and lets me put her up and went potty. She always applauds herself after going. Awesome.
So, she got to wear her stripey unders, of which she is very proud, for the whole afternoon. Toward the evening, she did have one accident, but ONLY one. Yeay for The Small One!

In other news, it appears we have a budding artist on our hands. Oh yes, it's true. Yesterday, we lunched at JCW's burger place with Gramma, Papa and Uncle Jamie. The Small One had a corn dog (of course!) While we were all involved in eating lunch and talking politics, The Small One decided to be artistic at the window. I glanced over to see her painting the window with the fry sauce on the end of her corn dog. At least it wasn't my fault as she wasn't sitting next to me. Gramma grabbed the corn dog and we all giggled surreptitiously. Jamie glanced over at a nearby table where two guys had apparently been watching The Small One for quite some time and were laughing their heads off. Lovely. I think I will get her an easel for Christmas.

We lunch at JCW's rather too often. They have a killer chef salad that I am quite addicted to. The caramel cashew shake is nothing to shake your head at either! Apparently, The Small One is very friendly. After we sat down yesterday, a gentleman came up to tell me that The Small One had waved at him on another day and then waved again yesterday. He was very pleased that she recognized him. I think she is a little flirt. Takes after her dad, that way.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

A Pleasant Morning

When The Small One rises in the morning, her day begins at regular speed. Which is fast. There is only one time when she goes at slow speed, and that is...you guessed it, when I want her to hurry.

She is like a small fly, buzzing around the place, alighting here and there for a brief moment, before going merrily on her way again. To be sure, she is somewhat less annoying than a fly, as she doesn't actually buzz. She does sometimes alight on me, though.

The Small One is like a mini-tornado, she can wreak havoc wherever she goes, moving from place to place and causing trouble before you even know what has hit you.

But...once in a while, oh yes, once in a while, she slows down very pleasantly. This most often happens on mornings where she wakes up a wee too early. I am sitting at my computer, earlyish in the morning, when I hear, Mamma! Mamma! Instistent and sweet, her little voice calls me away from my email, or surfing, or what have you. If I don't answer immediately, the little voice takes on a pathetic questioning tone. Mamma? This, I cannot resist. I go into the room and say Good Morning! Did you have good sleeps? She puts out her little lip in a pout and holds out the skinny arms to be picked up. And, of course, I do just that. She lays her little head in the crook of my neck and pats me on the back and I take her out to the front room.

As is usally the case, I set her down and off she goes. But a few seconds later, she is at the couch, imploring me with her wide little eyes and her skinny arms, I pick her up again. Again, into the crook of my neck goes her head and she pats my back.

I am tired myself from getting up a little too early after not sleeping well. I lay down on the couch, with The Small One in my arms. She scoots around a bit to find a comfortable position, lays her little hands down and places her head gently on them. Every once in a while, she reaches up and pats my face, as if to reassure herself that mamma is paying attention to her, and only her (she is jealous, is The Small One), I kiss her and let her know that she is my sole concern right now.

I know we should be getting up. Lilly has an appointment for pictures this morning, but the cuddly, still baby is so rare anymore, that I can't give up the time. We lay there for a while, me being reminded of when she was new and used to lay on my chest like this while I slept. Adding to this illusion is the fact that daddy used the same lotion on her after tubby that she used to wear as a newborn. I love that smell.

But, she is a big girl, now, so after about 10 minutes, up she gets, and off she goes.

Friday, September 19, 2008

Stephanie Nielsen

For those of you who may not have heard, my friend Christopher's little sister and her husband were involved in a private plane crash. Stephanie was burned over 83% of her body, but survived. Her husband was burned over 33% and is doing very well, all things considered. Their four small children are living here in Utah Valley with a sister.
If you are interested in learning more or in contributing to the recovery fund, please go to www.cjanerun.blogspot.com

The Small One

The Small One is 17 months old now. Well, 17 months and some change. But not according to her. In her mind she is at least 2 and a half. She has officially decided that she is a big kid, and therefore must be allowed to do the things big kids do. That means that she must walk, not be carried. Unless, of course she is tired. Everyone knows that big kids need a break, too.

That means no sitting in high chairs, after all, how many big kids do you know that sit in high chairs? Oh, no. It must be a booster.

She says Hello, not Hi, because of course, big kids use bigger words. And let me tell you, the little tongue poking out of her mouth to say her "L" is adorable.

She seems to have decided to potty train, at least part way. She loves to go sit on the big toilet to go to the bathroom. Sometimes it isn't successful, but what can you do?

Big kids choose their own clothing, mama does not choose it for them. Fortunately for all concerned, the Small One has excellent taste.

Since she is a big kid, she will kneel and fold her OWN arms for prayer, thank you very much. She doesn't need your help.

Also, she is growing up quite tech savvy. Daddy and the Small One like to text from time to time.

Ah, but don't worry. There is still plenty of baby left. She still likes to lay on Daddy's shoulder when she is sleepy. Binky is her best friend at bedtime. Cuddles and kisses are nearly always welcome. And of course, she is still very wee.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008


I turned 34 today. Very strange. I remember being a teenager and thinking 34 was quite old. To be sure. When my mom was 34, I was 12. Now I am 34 and Lilly is...17 months. Bit of a difference there. I don't feel 34 and I don't feel old. But I do feel a bit introspective, so here we go.

Back in the day (high school) I was very ambitious as far as my career goes. For as long I as I can remember I wanted to be a doctor. By my sophomore year I knew the specialty I wanted to study, neonatology. I was fascinated by science, especially biology, and tolerably good at math. I wanted to go to BYU, although I applied to and was accepted at a few top tier schools, I wasn't good enough for a scholarship at any but BYU. My final year of high school was, well, we'll call it unpleasant and leave it at that. High school wasn't unpleasant, but everything else was.

By the time I got to college, I was tired. Tired of taking care of things it wasn't my job to take care of, but which seemed to land square in my lap. I got my first semester schedule, loaded with science classes and sighed. This is what I wanted, right? I made it through the first semester, then looked ahead to the twelve long years that would be required for me to actually be a neonatologist. And I gave up. I switched to fashion design, then to costume design, had a fabulous time in college and graduated in 3 years with a good job waiting for me. I had big plans. I would be a famous costume designer. Or better yet, a famous makeup artist. Or even better yet, I could make a career out of a side job I had had since high school. I would be a wedding gown designer. The next Vera Wang. I worked towards it, built up a pretty good name for myself, had ads in local bridal magazines. A few years later, I got married, to a wonderful guy who fully supported me in my career ambitions.
And then, a number of years later, I created my masterpiece. As I beheld it, all of my ambition to be Vera Wang dissipated, melted away. I could create nothing better than this, the pinnacle of my existence. You see, what I had created, was this...

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Lilly storm pic

And here, as promised, is the pic of Lilly in the storm. Sadly, rain does not show up in pictures, but is was POURING!

It Doesn't Quite Cover the Subject or Musings on a Miniskirt

When Mr. Spencer, my 11th grade English Literature teacher was posed the question, "How long does this paper have to be?" , he would often answer, "About a miniskirt." "What?" queried the confused student. Mr. Spencer would smile and explain. It should be about the length of a good miniskirt. Long enough to cover the subject, but short enough to be interesting.
The miniskirt is a modern invention, especially the micro-mini. Though the idea behind the fashion at the time of its birth was that of providing freedom to the wearer (this at a time when corsets and girdles were discarded as being too confining), the modern mini-skirt can seriously constrain the freedom of the even slightly modest wearer. It requires (hopefully) the wearer to behave in a more discreet fashion, to sit properly, walk carefully and constantly check one's back in the mirror. How I wish this held true more often!
Though the very short skirt went out of fashion for a "short" time, it has returned with a vengeance, being worn by old and young, tall and short, skinny and fat. Not only has the short skirt returned, but it returns with a bit of a twist. No longer is it just narrow and body hugging, providing at least some coverage. Oh no, the current popular miniskirt is very short and either pleated or gathered and at the mercy of the slightest wind or quick turn by the wearer. Also rather dangerous is the vantage point provided by stairs and escalators. I was recently flashed at a shopping mall by a young lady several steps above me on the escalator. More often than I desire, I have been privy to the color of underthings the poor victim was wearing. The miniskirt makes the old admonition to always make sure you have on clean underwear more important than ever, you never know what you might be showing!
Not only is the visibility of unmentionables a hazard to the viewer, but the desire to wear miniskirts of those whose figures are perhaps not built for them. Good legs are a very important asset to those who wish to wear short skirts successfully, unfortunately, it seems only a few are aware of this. Worsening this aspect is the apparent need of many to wear above the knee socks with even further above the knee skirts, thus exposing several inches of compressed flesh.
Truthfully, I have nothing against miniskirts, and have even been known to wear them myself ( a number of years ago!) More often than not, however, miniskirts do not meet the requirements set by my high school English teacher. Though they may be short enough to be interesting, it seems they are rarely long enough to quite cover the subject.

Courtesty of Kaytee

Apparently the answer is yes, it does work. Until I try to post this one, no doubt.
I am tired and I should be in bed. The problem? I am not sleepy.
So, here is another survey thing, courtesy of Kaytee.

I am... tired and a little overworked.
I think... that life is pretty damn good, most of the time
I want... Mike's company to make more money.
I have... what I need, if not all I want.
I wish ... that finances were never a problem
I hate... not being able to control my temper
I miss... interpretive dance with Mary and Lex.
I fear... losing Lilly.
I feel... stressed
I hear... the sprinklers running outside
I smell... cinnamon apple oil.
I wonder... how Lilly will turn out.
I regret... not much
I love... love darling baby girl.
I always... kiss baby more than she likes.
I am not ...the kindest person in the world.
I believe... that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and my saviour.
I don't always... keep my mouth shut when I should.
I win... at Trivial Pursuit and Jeopardy.
I lose... when playing against Emil.
I never... make my bed
I listen... when my friends need me to.
I am scared of... being in real debt.
I read... all the time.
I am happy about... my life.

Thanks Kayt! That was entertaining.
Does this thing work? I have lost 3 posts now due to blogger being lame.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Modern Medicine

I was up very late last night (this morning) chatting with my dad and have no idea how we got on the subject, but it occurred to me that had I had Lilly 100 years ago, we would both have died in childbirth. That is a very strange and rather frightening concept.

I love surveys

I stole this one from Mary's blog. Hope she doesn't mind!

20 years ago I was:
In 8th grade at Orem Junior High.
Trying to decide where I wanted to go to college. ;)

10 years ago I was:
Working at BYU
Getting tornadoed in Wisconsin and having a nervous breakdown.
Living with Jolene, Mary and Lex. Fun times!

5 years ago I was:
Working at BYU (still)
Trying to get a bridal design business off the ground
Still adjusting to being married.

3 years ago I was:
Considering getting pregnant but having health issues that prevented it.
Making custom wedding gowns.
Buying my house.

1 year ago I was:
Having a baby.
Adjusting to said baby.
Losing 20 lbs on Weight Watchers

This year I am:
A designer for Eternity Bridal.
Still trying to lose more weight.
Having a great time with my Lilly.

Yesterday I:
Went to the State Fair with Mike, Lilly, Ethan, Mom and Gary.
Went to a wedding luncheon.
Worked on Fall 2009 designs.
Yakked with my dad until 3:30 this morning.

Today I:
Went to church.
Am exhausted (thanks, Dad!)
Worked on designs for Fall 2009.

I have a meeting where said designs are due.
Have 3 dresses to alter.
I am making pizzas on the grill. Yum.

Next year I:
Will hopefully only have one job.
Might consider getting pregnant again.
Had better be down to my pre-Lilly size.

Friday, September 12, 2008


I have a minor anxiety disorder. Okay, it is minor when it isn't bothering me. I remember exactly when it reared it's ugly head. It was a slow rearing, like a monster looming slowly out of the depths, then finally exploding through the surface.
I used to work in theatre, doing summer stock in the summers (obviously). One summer I decided to take a job at a theatre in Wisconsin, near Madison. Some friends were working there as well, so we chose to rent a house rather than trust to theatre housing. We found a delightful farmhouse at the top of a lovely hill a few miles outside of a small town and about 30 miles from the theatre. It was beautiful there, a wood on one side (with foxes in the woodpile, no less) and rolling greenness everwhere. Green, so very green, such as we are not used to here in the desert.
We arrived one afternoon and began unloading the moving van. I was only staying a few months, so my belongings were quickly emptied into the house. The friends had more permanent job arrangements and so had actually moved there. I stood in the kitchen, putting dishes away and not paying much attention to the world when I noticed that I felt...odd. My head felt very full and my ears were plugged. I looked up, uncomfortable, to notice that the light had changed. I went outside and looked around. Funny clouds in the sky and the air was an unearthly, weird green, and silent. I knew what this meant. My heart began to beat a little faster and I called to my friends. They came outside and the boy said the evil word. Tornado. They turned and went back into the house. What?!? Didn't they care? Weren't they worried? No, it seemed. Okay. So, I went back into the house to continue what I was doing, all the while keeping an eye on the weather. Finally it rained and the sky returned to normal.
A few days went by and I went down into the town to run some errands and look around. While walking down the street, I was assaulted by an unholy wail that made my heart stop. What in the world was that? I ducked into the nearest shop to find out and was told, oh, don't worry honey, that is just the tornado siren.
I'm sorry, the what? Don't worry? Don't those go off when someone has spotted a tornado? I wasn't sure what to do, so I stayed in the shop till the wailing stopped and then I beat it for home. Again, the weird sky, the air pressure change. Then, the rain and things returned to normal. I was informed that this was unusual for two to occur so close together. That was a relief. Ah, but this was not to be a normal summer.
As the weeks went by, the tornadoes kept coming. At least one a week. My nerves began to fray, I kept my radio on all the time listening for warnings. I wouldn't stray too far from shelter for fear of being caught out in the open in one. Then finally, it broke through the surface. I was at work, in the "barn" at the theatre. That was where the costume shop was located. On top of a hill, of all places. A very unsecure place. The weather darkened and turned windy, the radio was tuned to a weather channel, we listened quietly as the tornado watches were increased to warnings, and as the towns listed as needing to take cover neared ours. I grew more nervous, but tried to hide it. No one else seemed to care much. Finally, the boss came upstairs and said, Those of you who live outside of town may want to head for home, it is getting ugly out there. I dropped my stuff and bolted outside. Relief. It didn't look too bad, so I jumped in my car and headed down the hill, hoping to beat the storm home as we had a storm cellar there. I reached the bottom, tore through the town and up the next hill to descend into the valley in which I lived. When I reached the top of the hill, horror met my eyes, it was black as pitch. Did I keep going? Turn around? The other cars around me carried on, so I did as well. I flipped my radio on and heard what I did not want to hear. If you are in the Dodgeville area, seek cover immediately. But where? I was right inbetween the two towns, where could I take cover? Cars around me kept driving, so I did too. Then I saw ahead of me a weird swirling grey. What was it? Not the tornado, I could tell, but what? Then I reached it, rain. Insane, slashing, whirling rain. I could hardly see out of my windshield, but I noticed the car in front of me pull over, so I did the same. We were in the lee side of a hill, the safest place to be, but not safe enough. The radio kept saying over and over, if you are in the Dodgeville area, please take cover immediately. But I couldn't! I hunkered down to ride it out, numb, but thinking over and over, take cover, take cover! A painful roaring sound, louder than the rain drew my attention and I looked up, unwillingly, through the windshield and I saw it. The funnel. True terror swept through me and I was positive I was done. Branches whipped through the air and the rain fell in absolute torrents and then it passed over me...and was gone. I wasn't dead, the sky cleared and I could see the road full of cars pulling out from the side. I pulled onto the road and drove home. When I reached our place, the dirt road was completely washed out, so I left my car at the bottom and walked up the hill to the house. My friends through the door open and ran out, wide eyed. We weren't sure you would make it, they said, the theatre called to tell us you were on your way home, ,but you didn't come! How long? I asked. Two hours. I had no idea how long I had sat on the side of the road.
I went into work the next day to find the temporary "buildings" ripped to shreds. Cars had the windows completely shattered out. Worse, Taliesin, at the bottom of the hill, had lost 50 huge trees when the tornado touched down.
Okay, I thought, I lived through it, I am fine. I can deal. Hah.
A few days later my first contract ended and I had some free time at home. I was there alone when the next one blew through. It reared it's ugly head. I was done, I couldn't deal, I wasn't fine. I had to go home, home to my lovely desert with thunderstorms and earthquakes but no tornadoes.
I called my mom to have her come to Chicago and drive home with me. The friends decided to drive to Chicago with me and make a weekend of it. I picked my mom up at the train station and we drove to the hotel. That night, a tornado blew through and put the power out, I left the next morning. We drove to Nauvoo. Though I desperately wanted to get home, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. I may as well have, I got nothing out of it, having spent the entire time watching the sky. At the hotel in Nauvoo, I kept looking out the curtains to make sure I could still see stars. If I could see stars, I was okay. Are you alright? asked my mom. No, I wasn't. I was far from it and in such a state that I wasn't sure I would be alright ever again. I was in a panic and could barely function. Over what? Wind?
We drove home, I drove all the way, though I was dead tired from lack of sleep. There was a tornado out the window most of the way home. When I finally drove into the mountains in Wyoming, I let out a sigh of relief. It smelled different, mountain air. And it kept the tornadoes away. I relaxed and drove the rest of the way to Provo, confident that I would be okay.
Shortly after returning home, the weather gave us a grand summertime thunderstorm and I cowered in my bed. I love thunderstorms, but all I could think of was that horrible swirling rain and a funnel cloud threatening to hurl me who knew where. But my rational mind told me I was fine, we didn't get tornadoes here.
A few days later, I watched the news to see a small tornado rip through Salt Lake City, killing one person and damaging several buildings.
How unfair.


So, Mike was getting baby ready for her tubby before bed. He took off her socks and shoes, her shorties and her dress and left her in her cloth diaper and cover. She turned to look at me with an inquistive look on her face with her little hands on the velcro closure. I nodded, off came the cover. One to go. Hands struggled to find the smaller velcro tabs on the diaper, tried to just pull it off, no luck. Finally, success, she pulled off one of the tabs and shook the diaper from her other leg (fortunately, just wet). Leaving the diaper on the floor, she took off for the bathroom. "hey", calls dad, "Put your diaper in the pail!" She looks at him, he repeats, she walks over, picks up her diaper and...goes to lick it. Ewwww. I haven't seen Mike move that fast in a long time. I guess Lilly won't be disposing of her own diapers for a little while yet.

I think she may be getting close to potty training. She runs around naked rather often and so long as someone is holding her, she won't pee, she holds it. If her diaper is wet and she thinks she can get it changed, she won't poo, she holds it. However, if she is not being held, she will pee with impunity, for instance, the other day, I was sitting on the couch, surfing the net and she had just gotten out of the tub and was having a bit of naked time. She came over to the couch to watch what I was doing, grew bored (I wasn't paying attention) and I noticed her looking down. I looked down as well, to discover that she had peed in my shoe. Lovely.

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Yet again

Hey look, another entry! Already?

I just didn't finish last night's post because baby was fussy.

So, Lilly has a ton of teeth right now, more than most babies her age, so now we have taught her to show her teeth. Here is a pic of her showing her teeth, except she started giggling before I could snap it.

We went to the "water park" here in St. George today. Which really is a park with a water feature. There is a little rock wall with water running over the rocks down into a concrete "river" with big rocks in it. They also have one of those fountains that squirt up from the ground that you can run through. Anyway, Lilly loved it. She loves water anyway, so this was super fun for her. She got tired pretty fast, though, only played for half an hour or so.

The other day we had a HUGE rainstorm. It was super windy and the rain was just whipping around. I had put laundry out on the line and forgot it was there until about half way throught the storm. Mike went out to get all of the clothes, which had gotten blown right off of the line. Well, Lilly stood in the back door for a second and then decided to join him outside. It was awesome. She stood on the back patio with the rain just whipping her with her hands up to the sky, just squealing! She thought it was so great. It was cold, but she did not want to come in the house, finally I had to drag her inside and she was absolutely soaked. She LOVES wild storms. I have a pic of her out in it, but it is on my camera and I don't have it with me.

Friday, September 5, 2008

Blah, blah, blah...

Okay, update time!
We are currently down in the land of (way too hot) eternal summer, St. George, Utah. My SIL, Kaytee, is having her baby blessed this Sunday, so we came down for the celebration. And to bring down the dress, which I made. It is so pretty, very simple, but lovely white silk with a baby pink sash. Lilly had a bit of a hard time with the drive, it was 4.5 hours, which is too long for a baby to be strapped in a car seat. We ended up stopping at a rest stop so she could play for a bit. Tomorrow we are going over to the city park, which has a fountain and little river, very shallow, that she can play in, I think she will like it alot.
Last weekend, two of my little nephews stayed with us while their parents went hunting. I adore the older one, I used to be his nanny when he was a wee one. I did not know the younger one terribly well, as I don't see him that often, but he is awesome and adorable. Such a funny little boy and he talks so much. It was very fun to have them there for the weekend, I miss having my boy around. They were crazy and rowdy, but Lilly loved having them here. I think she was very glad to have them go home, though. She doesn't like having to share her mamma and her grandma. Ashley (the younger one) is very active and kind of a bully. Lilly is also a bit of a bully. Okay, they aren't really bullies, they are just kids who like to get their own way, and if no one argues, they will take their own way. Anyway, the two of them were hysterical together, fighting non-stop. A couple of times, I had to take one or the other of them over to my mom's because they wouldn't quit fighting. Tristan (the older one) was sweet and mellow and I wanted to keep him. He is my boy, I had him from the time he was born, due to my brother being in a major car wreck and his wife having to work.
When their parents came to pick them up, Tristan didn't want to go home. He is comfortable at my house, it is like home to him.
We were all sitting in the front room hanging out and at one point, Ashley and Lilly started fighting again. Lilly reached up to claw Ashley's face (a VERY bad habit of hers, which we are trying to break). He didn't appreciate it, so he bonked her in the face with the toy drill he was holding. Both Sean and Monica jumped up, expecting Lilly to start crying, since it was a pretty hard bonk. Lilly just gave Ashley some major stinkeye and went back to what she was doing. At that point, Sean just started to howl with laughter at her. She looks like a delicate little angel flower, but she isn't. She is a little toughie and a daredevil.
Must go, baby is very fussy and needs her meds.