Toe Jam Messes

Bible reading time has recently become more of a rest for my body than for my soul. I sit down to read and zonk! I'm asleep. Now while I will admit to being slightly more irritable than usual, I certainly have NOT been going around cursing all the little messes that are accumulating as my "Bible reading time" gets longer and less productive.
So why is my adorable little todler running around the house pointing out all the "dam" messes on the floor!? It's entirely his father's fault. From beginning to end, it's his father's fault.
Now before you berate my wonderful husband for swearing in front of a baby, let me just assure you that he has not.
We were looking at pictures of family members going over names with Clark. We got to Uncle Sam, and Clark happily pointed to him and said "Dam!"
Ian was right there with us, so why in the world would he try to teach him to say toe-jam!? So this morning when Clark was insistently pointing to his toes and saying his own version of "jam jam jam jam jam," I naturally panicked a bit and asked Ian why in the world my baby was using profanity. Ian explained that he knew what toe-jam was and didn't like it in his toes. So I picked it out and put it on the floor. At this point, I guess the problem sort of became my fault. I've been spending so much time "reading my Bible" that I haven't vaccuumed in several days. Every single crumb or piece of lint on the floor became toe-jam. After spending the morning hearing about every single one, let me just tell you, the floor is vaccuumed and there are NO more toe-jammy messes anywhere in this house. This is a great time for an unexpected visit! -- except that I'm planning to go read my Bible soon ;)

So Thankful!

All I can say is that when Ian is your husband, you are one super happy little lady. My parents sure knew what they were doing when they gave me to him. I must thank his parents for raising him to be so manly! I'm so proud that Clark wants to be just like him - and so blessed that Ian likes it and welcomes it when Clark follows him around doing everything Daddy does. It makes for one energetic, testosterone-y tot, but hey :) I'll take whatever comes with the territory to end up with a man like him for a son! In the words of my happy, energetic, snow-shovelling, mail-getting, trash-taking-out-ing, not-letting-mom-carry-anything-heavy-ing, wrestling, football-playing, running-in-the-house, crazy boys --- "HEY!!!"

Still The Same Ol' Clark!

We bravely ventured back to church today. It's been a LONG time. But now that morning nap is a thing of the past (brief moment of silence in memory of morning nap time), we can go!

So we got to church and were a wee bit apprehensive about Clark trying to sit still AND be quiet at the same time for a whole hour and a half. We packed a bottle, a bunch of number magnets and his little mouse hoping these favorite items would help him during church.

He was really sweet and good! We had our moments though, and they had me fighting giggles so hard I had tears springing up.

First, he laid belly-down-bum-up in the air on his chair to take a little rest... then he noticed the nicest lady behind him! So he'd peak up, smile really big and then lay down really fast. Cute yes, but we rescued the kind stranger as quickly as we could.

I gave him a couple magnets and showed him how they stuck the the side of the chairs. He could have cared less that they were magnets. He had to show his daddy the number 8! Rather loudly. I squelched my pride that the whole building knew he knew his numbers and shh'd him.

He played super nicely, snuggled, cuddled his mouse, and then remembered that the lady behind him seemed to enjoy peek-a-boo, so he peaked up to make sure she was still there, and then slowly peaked his mouse over the chair and loudly told her "MOUSE!"

Then the preacher said "in closing," or something to that effect. Clark got super wiggly and I started thinking how comparatively well the day had gone! The last time we had gone, Clark was so anxious for his meal that he pulled my shirt back and practically jumped in!.. not to mention that at 8 months, he knew what his meal was called and said it rather loudly. I thought I'd never go back.

Anyway, we stood up to sing the last song and realized that even though Clark wasn't trying to nurse, and had behaved very well for a LONG period of time, he was still the same ol' Clark. We had him dressed so nice and cute... so he peed through. And I didn't bring him a change... same ol' me.


In other news, Clark and Daddy shovelled the snow when we got home. It was absurdly cute and I was extremely disappointed that I straightened up the house instead of snooping on them sooner. Take a look at what I was missing!

"Good job, Dad! You're a big help, buddy."

Out With the Nalgenes, In With the Potatoes!

Ian needs help. I'm pregnant AND reading books. When I read books I usually say something like "guess what I just learned!!,'' "Look at how terrible this is for you" or "Ooh! New recipes for vegetables you boys might like! Oh and this says we shouldn't eat potatoes, so no more potatoes!" Poor Ian. He puts up with it like such a trooper and usually helps me find a happy medium until I realize that Lefse has potatoes and I certainly don't want to live without that! (we threw out that book around Lefse season come to think of it!)

When I'm pregnant, I second guess everything and stop wearing deodorant or styling my hair. So now I'm reading a book about organic pregnancy. Poor beloved Ian. The cover of the book implies something is wrong with sleeping on a mattress. Clark keeps coming up to me when I read it, saying "No." and closing my book. The nerve! I bet his father put him up to this. Such nerve like that is only carried on Y chromosomes.

In the meantime, farewell my beloved Nalgenes and goodbye dishwasher.

Actually, help ME! Ian makes me stick to stuff like this. Forget him and his potatoes! I need my dishwasher! Who cares if the detergent is extremely toxic and bad for my babies?!? oh yeah... I do. Handwashing it is. You see what these terrible books do? Thanks a lot Mom for making me like to read. Oh wait! I know a way to get my dishes done!

Mom... I'm feeling a little morning sick. You don't by any chance feel like coming over and doing some dishes do you? While you're thinking about it, Clark wants to say "hi..."

Hank's a Girl!

Hank's a girl! And a very modest little one at that! She turned her full face to the camera and showed us how cute she is when she snuggles into mommy, then refused to show us much else. It took a lot of coaxing. She gave one little peek and then wiggled away and stuck her hand in front of the camera as if to say no to the paparazzi. Love that little cutie!!

I'm so relieved she's a girl! Poor thing if she had been a boy! I've called her a girl since day one... and have called her Hank since about day 7. Besides, it would have been really hard for me to switch over to our boy-name, since Hank was only our girl-name :) Oh yes. You think I'm joking. I'm not. You may call her Hannah if you must. That's what all the Grandparents are doing. We will call her Hank though. My lovely (inside radiating out) Mother has been called Buck since she was little and it has always been amusing to hear such a natural beauty called Buck. I want Hank to be exactly like her. Of course, we can't name a little girl "Buck," so Hank it is.