Our Father, Who Art in the Studio, with headphones on.

 Being that today is fathers day, it causes me to reflect and ponder on my experiences with 'fathers'. 

There is my Father-in-law Sam:

Sam Attaya is seriously, one of the best people ON THIS PLANET! He is the kind that will sit and listen to all your problems and really be interested in what you are saying, no matter what other important thing he has going on. He is kind and generous, and always has a piece of advice for you. He is also the type who will turn EVERYTHING in to a teaching moment. It is so sweet to see him holding my little boy and pointing out a tree or a cloud or a toy animal, and telling him something about it. 

   Then there is my wonderful husband Robert:

Robert has only been a daddy for three years, but he has (in my COMPLETELY un-biased opinion) done a fantastic job! He takes such meticulous care of our babies. I feel pretty pleased with myself for picking such an  outstanding father for our children!

Then, of course, there is, My Dad:

Paul Shiver is one of the most unique individuals you will ever run across, as well as one of the HARDEST people to shop for when it comes to fathers day/birthday/christmas gifts! I always ask him what he wants, and he sits back, looks thoughtful and says, "You know, I don't know!" which is the MOST un-helpful answer EVER! 

My father has made my life more interesting and great than I could ever imagine otherwise.

Here are a few examples of why MY Daddy is better than YOUR daddy! (Okay at least different from your daddy!)

• I am the oldest of my siblings and so when my mom was pregnant with me she and my dad had alot of  fun picking out names. One day, out of the blue he was sitting in the bathtub (yes I just said the bathtub) and yelled to my mother from across the house "THNUR!!!" my mother reacted appropriately "Huh??" My father responded "I thought of the perfect name! Thnur! Thnur Albedo!!" -Thank you Daddy, for NOT naming me 'Thnur'
• When I was about five years old my dad bought the original Nintendo console, for "us kids". He set it up in HIS bedroom.......... I remember sitting on my parents bed while my dad utilized every cheat available in Super Mario brothers and 'Saved the Princess' in under ten minutes. -Thank you Daddy for teaching me how to get the flute in Mario Brothers 3 so I could feel cool around my friends.
• When we lived in Millington TN. there was a really cool playground that had a slide built on a downhill slope. It was probably 20 feet long, metal, and was kind of wavy. Truly it was the coolest slide I think I have ever seen. When I was about eight years old, my dad drove us to the park and pulled out a can of 'turtle wax' he then proceeded to take about 45 minutes and wax the entire slide, TWICE! we spent the next hour FLYING down that slide! -Thank you Daddy for doing silly/fun things with us so we could have an awesome childhood!
• Dad is and always has been a musician as well as music-lover. We would sit in his studio for HOURS at a time just listening to ALL kinds of music! As a result of this I have an INCREDIBLY varied taste in music. From Journey, to Chicago, to Tears for Fears, to Seal, to the Mama's and the Papa's, to name just a few. -Thank you Daddy for exposing me to all kinds of music, and teaching me to listen to everything before I make a judgement on it!
• Dad has a sweet tooth. I cannot tell you how often I have heard "HEY! I want a 'sweetie treatie' and after searching the kitchen, gets into the car to drive to the store for ice cream/hostess cakes/cookies. -Thank you Daddy for teaching me the importance of dessert!

So there it is. Happy Father's day to all the great dad's out there! (but not the mediocre ones) 

An Attempt at Good Parenting.

I remember all through my childhood, watching my parents and other adults, and taking notes on what they did, as 'grown ups'. I remember thinking that there were some things that I was DEFINITELY going to do differently when I was the 'grown up'

• I was NEVER going to watch "the news" instead of cartoons.
• MY kids were going to be allowed to stay up as late as they wanted.
• I was not going to be the 'boring' grown up, and not talk to or 'be friends' with kids.  

Well......fast forward to now. I am 25 years old, a wife, and a mother of two small children. I guess I can safely call myself a "grown up" now. (though for the life of me it is still WIERD!!)  I look back on my juvenile expectations of adulthood and I realize that, I have fallen victim to whatever happens to kids when they grow up that makes them, not what they thought they would be. This is not to say that I am a completely boring grown up, I have put forth a great deal of effort to stay somewhat relatable to my kids at the very least. However, 

• I DO watch the news instead of cartoons, and do not find it mind numbingly boring (as my younger self did, and felt that she would forever) I do still watch some cartoons though if anyone remembers this post, you will understand how I feel about the cartoons being made today.
• I concede that my parents were.......right, and in a valiant attempt to maintain some semblance of sanity, I work very hard to enforce a bedtime.
• I still do my best to be friendly to people of all ages, including children, so this plan hasn't changed. I had many friends as a child who were grown up and I have fond memories of these people, I hope I can have the opportunity to impact some 'young people' as well

I spend most of every day attempting to do the very best I can for my small, impressionable children. I want nothing more than for them to look at me someday and feel warm, snuggly, fuzzy feelings about me, not unlike my own warm feelings towards my own awesome parents ( Love ya Momma, and Daddy!)

  This past week I feel that I have been tested in the paradoxical nature of this desire. This past week, both of my children have been keeping me busy. Andrew started with these horrid coughing fits that were causing him to gag, and also had a pretty gnarly runny nose. I got him in to the doctor of course (again trying to keep up the whole "good mom" thing)  and naturally he was diagnosed with an upper respiratory infection, as well as, bronchitis. We got the good cough syrup, and antibiotic and were good to go. He got through it quite nicely. Aubrey of course, did not allow me quite the same level of ease.

MISERABLE baby girl!

 She (naturally) came down with the very same illness three days later. I knew it was the same because the coughing was the same. Being that she is not quite six months old though, she was hit significantly harder. I went ahead and got her into the doctor as well, and, whaddaya know, she does, in fact, have the same infection as her big brother! She was SO miserable! I have never seen her so lethargic! We got the antibiotic, but the doc would not give us a decongestant because of her age. I knew that I would have to resort to the aspirator (a.k.a 'the nose sucky thing' a.k.a. 'the blue, device of ultimate torture'))

light, blue, rubber, torture device

There is nothing more heartbreaking than listening to my baby daughter, hot with a 102 degree fever, trying to breathe through a nasal passage, that is almost entirely flooded with nasty, thick, gooey, mucous, unless it is trying to hold my miserable, sick baby still, while I jam a little rubber tube up her nose and essentially vacuum out the terrible, nasal viscosity. The look she gets in her little, blue eyes, makes me want to cry! It is a look of complete, and utter terror!  I feel like the monster living under the bed, come to life and reflected in my petrified baby's eyes. I apologize fruitlessly. I know that doing this ( clearing my baby's airway's so that she is able to breathe) is   a GOOD thing, and makes me a caring/good parent. However, I cannot help the feeling of rotten-ness, in the infliction of this ultimate discomfort to my little baby girl! This is my paradox! I wish I could make her understand how important and necessary it is! But alas, all she knows is that the horrible, blue, torture device makes her life even more of a living hell, while she feels so miserable!

I wish I could explain that I am just trying to be helpful! I like to think that she might look at me, smile a little, sniff, and say, "I know Mom, you are doing what I cannot do for myself, and really, it does make me feel better!"  However if I am realistic with myself I know that what she would actually say is, "Mom, not cool.......not cool AT ALL! I don't see how ramming that thing up both of my nostrils is supposed to be ANY kind of 'helpful'. I think you are sick and twisted and, you had better be getting things all situated under your shirt with that nursing bra, right now, because.....you owe me.......BIG TIME!"

*sigh*

 I AM a good mom, I AM a good mom, I AM a good mom.................

An Ode to a Sunday Afternoon Nap.

On this lovely sunday afternoon, I have been pondering pleasant, sunday afternoon activities. As a child at my church we all learned the "appropriate" activities for a sunday afternoon:

- Write in a journal

- Write a letter 

- Read Scriptures

- Read other books

- Watch a quiet movie

- Avoid on pain of spanking, fighting with siblings

and my dad's personal favorite:

- TAKE A NAP

I was brought up thinking that it was practically mandatory to sleep on sunday afternoons! As a smaller child who, by nature, detested naps, I avoided and resisted them. As I got older, I learned the virtue of a really good nap and learned to really enjoy it. Now that I am the parent, we still do sunday afternoon naps, but not always. I have realized though, that, all of us REALLY enjoy our sleep. Also, that my little family sleeps ADORABLY! 

Case in point:

They learned quickly, this is days after Aubrey was born!

See how peaceful they appear!

This is what you call, "playing till you drop"

Even awkward sleep is cute!

The great, baby burrito, and daddy.....asleep!

"beautiful dreamer....."

look at this and TRY to think of something cuter!!

This was an ACTUAL sunday afternoon nap!

Baby asleep on mommy's chest LOVE IT!!

And just in case, you were wondering.........Yes, I too have been caught on camera.......asleep.

...in my defense I was pregnant at the time.......

  

Grant Me Serenity....

   In the short 5 1/2 years of my marriage I have found that the best way to center myself, when I am feeling chaotic, is to clean and organize my house. (*note* this does NOT work with other people's houses, I know this because I had a job as a maid for a few months and it did not elicit the same level of satisfaction....so no snarky comments about how I should "come 'center myself' at your house" Kay?)  during my first two years of marriage living in our tiny, little, one bedroom, matchbox apartment, if I was going to do a thorough job, it took me about an hour and a half to do a REALLY good job. I would then sit peacefully admiring my work. Today, living in a somewhat (but not too much) bigger place, it takes me most of my day to get it clean to my liking, I am not slower at scrubbing, oh no,

                                               THIS ladies and gentlemen, is the culprit!

(Extra points if you can spot the extreme Andy-Panda
close-up)

I have two small children who don't just want my complete attention, they DEMAND IT! Andrew is typically easy to entertain, just pop in his flavor-of-the-week movie and he is good for a while. Aubrey, however, feels that it is my purpose in life, to hold her ALL THE TIME and keep her entertained and/or fed, whichever she feels is appropriate at the time. Unless she is napping I can hardly put her down for more than 15 minutes at a time before she becomes bored with life and needs me to attempt to convince her that her bouncer is INDEED fun! *sigh* some days I just give up and plop on the couch, baby on my lap and flip through channels. Not today, today I persevered and got my house clean! Success! Victory! Yay me! Because.........it REALLY needed it!

Kitchen Before.....

Kitchen AFTER!

Bar/Andy's toy area before...

Bar/Andy's toy area, AFTER......(ok its not PERFECT, but
seriously I DON'T know what to do with all those toys!)

Dining room  before.....

Dining room AFTER (yes the table did get smaller, I took
     the leaf out, it makes the room seem bigger, and therefore cleaner! )

Living room before......

Living room AFTER!

Red hair, Mother's day, and a hole in my foot

Before: Boring, run-of-the-mill, plain-jane, easy-to-overlook...

I have been pretty predictable in my 25 years on this planet.  I was never what you might call 'rebellious' or 'interesting' during my adolescence and young adulthood. No weird piercings, tattoos or vibrantly colored clothes for me!  And so, after many years of being, well, lets face it BORING, I decided to do something about it!  A tattoo was too permanent for my liking so that was out. Similar reasoning for no more piercings, but I have the added deterrent of two young children who would likely pull and tug on them, so that was out. I could have worked on adding some bright colors to my wardrobe, but come ON now, lets not be CRAZY people! I
finally settled on something that I have always really, wanted to do. I dyed my hair.....RED! Not like a'ginger kid' red, a fiery, intense, 'Ariel from the Little Mermaid' red! Of course being that I am a brunette to begin with it looks more burgundy, but I LOVE it!! It is just enough fun and whimsy to give my look a lift and when I am ready to be boring again, all I have to do is dye it back!

After: Fun, Fiery, Vibrant!

Though, from the comments I have been getting from people, I may keep it this way for a while!
 
I feel that this new color change, (in addition to the work I have been doing to improve my 'post baby' figure) may help to contribute to my goal of being a "hot mama" we shall see..........................

And with THAT lovely segue, Mother's day was this past weekend. Which means, my brother (who is serving a mission for our church, in the Philippines) got to call us!!
First: a little back-story. In early February there was a really bad storm that knocked a tree over in my parents yard. It hit the roof when it fell and caused some damage. After calls to the insurance company and a good roofer, my parents got set up to get a completely new roof. This past weekend they got started, ripping the existing roof off leaving lots of roof debris and nails and stuff all over the yard. The new roof is almost complete (and it looks very nice)
So we have all been anxiously waiting for this phone call, since we haven't gotten to talk to him since Christmas. I write him an e-mail each week and he writes and tells us all the fun and/or crazy and interesting things that happen to him. Since we only get to talk to him on the phone twice a year, I was pretty excited to get to talk to him for a few minutes. I had gone grocery shopping the morning of the day he was scheduled to call. He was supposed to call us around 4:00 in the afternoon so I thought I had plenty of time to get home and be there for "the call". Well I am driving home at 3:30, and my sister calls to tell me that Stephen is ALREADY on the phone!! I rushed to get my cold groceries in the fridge/freezer and then to my parents house to get on the phone. WELL.....remember all the debris in my parents yard? I had been carefully watching where I walked EVERY other time I had been there since they started on the roof, but this ONE time, when I was in a hurry to get inside, and did NOT watch where I was walking....I stepped on a nail. It went right up through my shoe and stuck me in my heel! I was SO frustrated, and it hurt! I would post a picture of it, but really, who wants to see a picture of THAT? its gross! (also, I did not take a picture of my punctured foot)  So, today I had to make a trip to my doctors office to get a tetanus shot since it has been a LONG time since my last one, and now I get to limp around until my foot no longer feels like it was hit with a mallet!!

Battling the 'baby' bulge

    So, since my baby was born four months ago, I have had the deep desire to return my "post-baby" body back to its former goddess-like state........Okay, so it was never 'goddess-like' but it WAS better than the deflated, and smushy aftermath that childbirth left me with. Don't get me wrong, it was worth EVERY pound I gained, to have my baby healthy. BUT, did you know that out of all the weight  you gain while pregnant, you only lose like 10 pounds of it when you give birth!! Carry around a big sack of potatoes every day and at the end of nine months, take out about three of the potatoes. That is what its like!
        I searched and found a breakdown of where the weight comes from, and its all two to three pounds here and there. Extra blood volume, amniotic fluid, uterine increase, and then of course the weight that belongs to the baby herself. It adds up to a tidy little number......until you add, the FAT STORES! it is supposed to be something like 8-10 pounds, at MINIMUM!   THAT is the culprit people!  I will grant that I got very lucky with my last pregnancy and did not gain more than was required. I was VERY happy with that.
          But now, here I am. four months later. STILL working on that STUPID 8-10 pounds of FAT STORAGE!! I want it gone and then some! SO, I make myself do something that I have always, ALWAYS loathed, despised and abominated............I work out. I find that the irritation frustration unadulterated fear, of how I look in a swimsuit outweighs my deep hatred of exercise. I WANT to look decent again, I WANT to look down and NOT see the little bit of tummy pooch that is stubbornly still there! And so, I don my shorts, SUPER, supportive, sports bra, a t-shirt, find my ipod and get my shoes on. I then begin to psyche myself up. I stretch, contemplate eating a cookie, do some crunches and push ups, get up, center my chi, take one wistful glance at my sofa, turn on my ipod, take a deep breath AND....... begin running. The first minute or so is the easiest. Then my asthma kicks in and I have to focus on regulating my breathing pattern so I don't collapse. Then I turn to ignoring the pain in my hips/lower back, leftover from being pregnant. After a little while I fall into a relatively pleasant pattern (BREATHE *step* *step* *step* BREATHE...) Before I know it I have reached my one-mile-marker and I think "hmmm, I can go a little farther...." so I do. Each time I go I feel like I can go just a little more. Eventually I have to stop  running (because of the asthma thing) and start walking. I continue walking for probably another two miles and feel like a warrior of some sort, perhaps a ninja or samurai, or maybe a knight, battling the 'dragon' that is my baby weight! (Take THAT you self-esteem killing, beast living beneath my stretch marks!) I make it back to my house, and down water and gatorade, as though I were Bear Grylls who had just spent the past three days in the sahara. I feel triumphant! I have CONQUERED my work out for the day! I feel like I might just be a 'normal' person who can just casually 'go running' on a daily basis. I resolve myself to be that way, and go about the rest of my afternoon.
   By the next day the whiny little kid in me rears its defiant little head, and I have to start the process all over again......

Little Victories, or, Adventures in Amateur Barbering.

  Something I have learned since becoming a parent, is that it is the little victories that sometimes feel the best. Your baby learns how to roll from her back to her tummy and from tummy to back. Your toddler feeds himself with a spoon all on his own and only gets MOST of it in his hair and face. Things like that. Andrew, I am pleased to say has passed many of these little milestones (though potty training eludes us still........)

After a haircut (did a good job didn't he?)

 


 About two years ago my husband decided that, since his haircuts mostly involve putting the clippers on the smallest guard and buzzing it over his entire head, we would invest in a set of clippers. It has saved us money on the monthly haircuts for Rob, but I was still faced with the task of finding someone to cut Andrews hair.

When Andy was born, he had NO hair. In fact the first words out of my adoring husbands mouth after he cut the umbilical cord were, "WOW, he has my hairline!!"


As he grew though, (thankfully) his hair did grow. On his first birthday his baby-fine hair was getting longish and looked a little scraggly, so I decided to take him in, and let him have his first haircut on his first birthday. It was exactly what you might think it would be. He squirmed and wriggled and, ultimately his hair got cut, but it took a ridiculous amount of effort to do it.  I  wasn't so worried because the person doing it was my little sister's best friend. She, was a top-of-her-class cosmetology student, and did my hair all the time so it was fine. She continued doing it for us for nearly the next year, then she left for college. I had NO idea where I was going to take Andy for a haircut until I realized that I could do it!!  isn't that what mothers do? cut their children's hair? OF course! So I tried it......with a pair of haircutting scissors. Rob had to hold literally hold him still by bracing his chin and the nape of his neck so that I didn't cut his ears! He fought, and screamed and cried, the WHOLE time! I felt like I was cutting the hair of one of those calves they want the cowboy to chase at the rodeo! In my attempt to do it right I ended up cutting my own finger, pretty bad! I  was glad to have it done and out of the way, but part of me dreaded having to do it again in a month! When the time came to cut it again I once again employed my husband with the task of holding our son still. Once again, he writhed and fought and made it absolutely difficult to accomplish, but once again I did it. The next time, I was telling Rob to get ready to hold Andy down again, and Rob (being the genius that he is when I miss the complete obvious)  asked, why don't I just use the clippers on him...........*facepalm* I pulled out the clippers and began the SLIGHTLY easier task of cutting my son's hair. It was only "slightly" easier because NOW he wriggled and squirmed with laughter, because the vibration of the clippers, tickled him! AHHHRGG! It did go monumentally faster with the clippers however.
  The clippers "tickling" him has been the biggest thing we have had to deal with as far as haircuts go for Andy. ( I am SO excited about NOT cutting Aubrey's hair and just letting it grow!)

  So, Today, my Papa (grandfather) calls and asks if I will cut his hair for him. Of course, I do. We sit on the deck out back so that clean up is as easy as sweeping the hair off the deck. When I am finished (and have done a FABULOUS job cutting his hair :) Andrew walks up to the chair and looks at me and says, "Mommy, my turn?" I was aghast! He was ALWAYS slightly terrified to get his hair cut! Even when it just ticked him! I asked if he really wanted Mommy to cut his hair and he smiled and said Yes! I had him climb on the chair and turned the clippers back on............Lo and behold, my son sat still through an entire haircut.................VICTORY!!!!

Andy with a brand new haircut!!

.....The back even looks good! Go me!!