The mountains, the rolling hills, the meadows, the daffodils...and the mosquitoes...

Two weeks before we left Utah for our new home in Missouri, we went camping with my parents and sister in American Fork Canyon. I will freely admit that I'd pushed for this to happen, but my parents are pretty game for camping most of the time, and Jeremy is always game to make me happy--especially when I'm preg-a-nant. So we loaded everything up into our cars and my parents' swank tent-trailer and drove an arduous 20 minutes into the canyon.

The site was lovely, and the distance was ideal for my dad, who had to drive home to work during the day. We stayed for two nights, and I think of the seven people in attendance, our average level of enjoyment, on scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the most fantastic, ranged from a low of about .05 to a high of 10.

The lowest of the lows was me--and probably my mom--when we were abandoned with my sister and Jonathan for the better part of a wretchedly hot day with no car and no possible means of escape. Added to the wretched heat were the swarming mosquitoes who found my flesh desperately appealing. I finally took Jonathan into the trailer, stripped him down into his shorties, and played about a million slow-motion games of Crazy Eights with him. My mom kept coming in and making me drink water. Megan sat in the shade and read a book (which is why she probably wasn't feeling the .05 like my mom and I. And Jonathan loves being in his underwear and seems more or less impervious to heat, so he was pretty happy.

Of course, I have to give Jeremy a shout out, since one of his lowest lows happened to correspond to what was probably one of Clara's highest highs (though that's hard to accurately describe, since I have never seen a happier camper--literally--than my Clara). Jeremy surprised Clara with a trip up to Timpanogos Caves. She was so excited to go, and probably would've hiked most of the quite steep trail up and down if the ranger hadn't given so dang many stern warnings about rockslides, snakes, mountain lions, and other sure-fire-tales-of-death-and-maiming. So Jeremy carried her on his shoulders the whole way up and the whole way back. This was happening while I was bordering on heat exhaustion back at camp. By the time he got back, he could barely walk. But Clara was absolutely thrilled with her excursion. In fact, in the first cave, the ranger asked for volunteers to identify the formations on the wall. After several incorrect answers from the other tourists, Clara bravely raised her hand and said, "Those are fossils." She was right. That's my good little geologist.

Other than those long and painful hours--and later than night when my dad melted the anti-reflective coating on his glasses while cooking foil dinners, which he hates to make and which I also requested ("Seriously," he said, "I could sautee the same ingredients in a pan with the same taste and a lot less effort")--we had a pretty good trip. Jonathan and Clara loved hiking and exploring, and Jonathan in particular was always happy to sit on a bench and watching the rushing water in the creek. Megan is always great fun to be around, and my parents are great about making things enjoyable and fun for their offspring. Plus, my mom will do just about anything for a legitimate excuse to make S'Mores. Seriously, she's an absolute fiend.

I'm really glad we went camping, especially since I don't see myself (at this point) becoming much of a Missouri camper--unless I somehow come to grips with relentless humidity, chiggers, and not having actual mountains to camp in. I miss the arid West already (but am pleased to report that we seem to have largely replaced mosquitoes and hornets with fireflies).

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I like this picture, because even though I have no makeup on and am really quite filthy, I look deceptively slim. I could show you some more accurate pictures, but I won't (like the one of me hiking downhill with Jonathan, which Jeremy took from a vantage point below me, despite the fact that I have told him countless times to never take pictures of me from below when I'm pregnant).


I like this picture because it is classic Meg-man. Love it.




Jonathan and Clara were perpetually sticky the entire time. My mom is the kind to wipe messy children down; we are the kind to reduce stickiness by covering it with dirt and dust.




And I had to end with this one, because I couldn't decide whether I liked this one or the opening photo most. They're a good-looking pair, those two!

While the cat's away...

It's Jeremy's first full day at work (though he won't be an "official" employee until mid-August). Nevertheless, we're missing him on his first big day away and want to keep him posted on our activities while he's gone. In the last hour, we've gone on a walk (with much crying and whining; the kids also seemed unhappy), and done a little bit of city building and piano playing:




Why Clara seems largely incapable of keeping her eyes open or looking at the camera in a picture is beyond me, but we only had one shot.

In other news, we're starting to feel more settled after our first week in Missouri. House pictures to come (so look forward to that, Mom!).

Oh, how lovely was the morning!

I spent so much time not blogging that I now feel far behind in writing about things that mattered to me and were important to our family. Here’s a first effort at rectifying that situation.

A week or so before we left Syracuse, Jeremy’s mom came to visit. Before she left, we decided to take a day trip to Palmyra. Jeremy and I had been there many times before, and even Clara came with us several times as a baby. But between the winter that would not end and the morning sickness that also would not end, we didn’t have a chance to go this time around until our eleventh hour in the ’Cuse. And since spring is an unpredictable season, we ended up going on a warm but misty day.

The first awesome thing about our trip was that Jeremy got to ride for an hour and ten minutes each way in between the kids’ car seats in the Golf. I wish I’d taken a picture, but the poor guy looked pretty cramped and pathetic (no offense, JB). When we arrived, he unfolded himself from the car and emerged in all of his glorious lankiness, and then we went to the Hill Cumorah visitors’ center. This picture is taken at the foot of the Christus statue, and I really appreciate that Jonathan is holding a paper towel tube, which he carried with him all the way from Syracuse. It’s those little details that make events like this more meaningful, don’t you agree?

After our visitors center tour, we drove to the top of the Hill Cumorah and enjoyed the rain and mist. Really, doesn’t it look like the ideal day to spend outdoors? Ah, New York…

It was at the top of the Hill Cumorah that we first tried to get Jonathan to have his picture taken with his arms away from his face. For some reason (I blame Clara), he thinks that he looks cuter when he puts his hands up to his mouth. I don’t know what he’s trying to do. But he also seems to have no idea how to respond when we ask him to put his hands down. He ends up looking pretty unnatural. That’s our boy!

We drove from the Hill Cumorah to the Joseph Smith Farm, where we toured the two farm houses and then walked through the Sacred Grove. Clara and the “Girl Missionary” (as Clara called her) who did our tour became fast friends, and eventually Clara became her little missionary companion, helping to ask questions, lead the group around, and lead everyone in a hymn (I should interject here that our group was quite small and comprised entirely of Mormons, which made for a different kind of tour than we’d been on in the past, when we’d been in larger groups with people of all faiths. They’re both great groups to be in, but I thought it was pretty neat to be in the small group on this trip. It was almost like being at church, but better since we were outside and seeing interesting things.)

By the time we walked through the Sacred Grove, the rain was coming down a bit harder, but we stayed pretty dry amidst the trees. It was a nice walk. The kids liked it, and we even tried to get a few more pictures of Jonathan. First we asked him to put his hands in his pockets, which he did not appreciate. You can see for yourself what happened next.

Silly boy.

Sorry for the travelogue-style post. I am not feeling very amusing or clever at present, but I figured I might as well start somewhere with my blogging. Also, if you are unfamiliar with Joseph Smith or the history of the LDS church in New York, I’d invite you to learn more at mormon.org.

I'm so glad when Daddy comes home!

Since U Been Gone

So I’m pretty well behind on my blogging, as you may have noticed. You will not be surprised to learn that I have a good excuse, though it’s one you’ve likely heard a few times over the last year: we’re moving/have moved/are in the middle of moving. Again. But get this, dear readers: although we’re in a period of transition to mark our third (fourth?) cross-country move in the last 12 months, when we settle in at the end of this transition, we are settling in. That’s right: I will now reveal something we’ve known since the end of February: Jeremy has a tenure-track job as a geography professor. Is that not good news? I know it can barely be considered true or real until it’s posted on a blog somewhere, so here it is. We’re moving to Missouri in July, and who knows? Maybe we’ll be there forever. Well, I at least plan to be there until a pesky twister delivers us to Oz in the middle of the night one night. Ah, the Midwest.

And can I just say that although I am still undecided about whether to reveal our precise location on my blog, that it is certainly in the Midwestern part of Missouri rather than the Southern part of Missouri. And yes, I do have a “thing” about not wanting to live in the South. Don’t judge me.

At any rate, I am currently hunkered down with my kids at my parents’ house while Jeremy is wrapping up a few things, like spending a week in Cincinnati reading AP Human Geography exams. He’ll roll into town next week, then we’ll hang out for awhile until we’re ready for our big drive to the Show-Me State.

Since we are apart from Jeremy at present, I’m going to start my blog catch-up by posting about things we’ve done since we’ve been apart. We sure do miss our dad/husband around these parts.

It’s unrealistic for me to think I can catch up on everything in this post, so I’ll go for the most recent first: a little trip to Thanksgiving Point’s Farm Country, where my offspring were able to unleash their inner farmhands (although at this point none of us are interested in poultry farming. Fowl=foul, in a stenchy kind of way, if you catch my drift. And I think you do).

I have to end on this picture of Jonathan because it fills my heart with joy. Who eats an ice cream cone like that? I really like that kid.

Happy Easter!

We very much enjoyed our Easter weekend as a family. We love watching the kids through all of their excitement, fun, and learning, even though both Jeremy and I think holidays are a lot harder now than they used to be. Just this morning I said to Jeremy: "When I was younger, I just remember holidays being fun and relaxing. I guess that's because my parents were doing all the work."

I guess so.

But really, the work is worth it to see our little charmers full of life and fun. They were both quite excited about the impending visit from the Easter Bunny. Clara fell asleep right away, as she is wont to do, but Jonathan was just too full of anticipation to fall asleep easily. At one point he came out and said, all nervous-like, "Where's Clara?" We went in and found Clara hidden in her bed. She was lying on her back and had the covers tucked up to her chin, and she had put her pillow so it was almost entirely covering her face. I told Jonathan she was there, readjusted her so she was on top of her pillow, and left.


This morning, we asked her why she fell asleep like that. Her response? "I was trying to look like a bed so the Easter Bunny wouldn't see me and she'd be surprised." That's right: she was trying to pull a fast one on the Easter Bunny. Clever Clara.


The EB was pretty light on the candy this year, since one of our children (I won't say who it is, but it isn't Clara) is an absolute fiend for candy. Seriously. He's like an unstoppable rebel force out to conquer all the candy in the universe. Or, perhaps more accurately, he's like one of those truffle-sniffing pigs who can find truffles hidden anywhere in the dank of the forest. The boy can find candy, and then he will eat it all, so we thought we might as well limit his options. Neither of them seemed to think the offerings were light, though, so all said it was a good time.


We also truly enjoyed our time at church today. Both of the kids had meaningful lessons on the Resurrection of Christ in their little classes, and Jeremy and I were able to teach an Easter lesson to our Gospel Principles Sunday School class. We were both touched deeply by the Holy Spirit both as we prepared the lesson and as we shared it with the class. I'm grateful for this special day where we can take time to reflect on the miracle of Christ's life, death, Atonement and Resurrection. I know the Savior lives, and that he loves us. Everything I have in my life that has brought me goodness, peace, and joy stems from my faith in Christ. I'm grateful for that knowledge.

In addition to these realizations and memorable moments, I will say that we also very much enjoyed this year's Easter dinner. Jeremy and I worked hard to make a ham steak (buying a whole ham seemed silly for our little family, particularly since we only ate about a third of the ham steak), monkey bread, deviled eggs, asparagus, fluffy strawberry salad, and creamed new potatoes and peas. Hard work makes food tastes even better, I think, and we enjoyed sitting down to the fruits of our labors. Clara was also gratifyingly hungry and appreciative. Jonathan was also there. I think he was full of candy.




And I will admit that one of my favorite things about the day was wearing matching Easter dresses with Clara. I matched us last year for Mother's Day and this year for Easter, and I figure I'll keep having us be twins once a year until she thinks I'm too dorky. I might only have one more year left! I am pretty dorky--something that will no doubt be easily discernible by our discriminating girl!



Also, you may notice that I look a bit, well, large-ish in these pictures. Though this may be a surprise to some of my dedicated readers, we are having another baby in September! We have a lot to celebrate these days...


Happy Easter!

That's what friends are for!

Three of the most dreaded words uttered in our house these days are "Let's play friends!"

I know what you're thinking: they sound innocuous enough, but when you are lazy parents like we are sometimes hearing the words "Let's play friends!" just sends a bit of a chill down the spine.

So the game goes like this: one of the kids (usually Jonathan; it's kind of his special game) comes up to you carrying a handful of small toys or stuffed animals. These are the "friends." Once you've been handed a "friend" (or usually two or three friends), you then spend the rest of the game (duration: unknown) talking to the other friends. It's kind of like living in the movie Avatar but without the perks of living on a magical planet, riding mystical creatures, or being able to destroy mercenaries.

Rules to consider:

1. As the adult, it is your responsibility to come up with topics of conversation. Acceptable topics include: favorite foods, names of "friends," hobbies and interests, etc.

2. At no point may you directly address the holder of the "friend." For example, if you somehow accidentally address Jonathan instead of Sky High or Dog-dog or Monkey or Crispin's Crispian, you will be swiftly rebuked--usually by having one of the friends thrust directly into your face with a stern admonition to "talk to mine friiieeeend!"

3. The game has no ending. You may need to grab a snack or use the restroom or tear out chunks of your hair, but the moment you turn around, a little boy will be standing there holding the little friends and waiting to tell you about his favorite foods. Again.

Once, Jeremy made the mistake of saying to Jonathan, "You know, Buddy, sometimes I don't want to talk to the friends. Sometimes I just want to talk to you!" To this, Jonathan responded by thrusting out his lower lip, widening his eyes, then darting away into his room to have a good cry into his pillow.

But now that I've written all of that and shown that charming picture, I know you're thinking what I'm thinking: that little face is impossible to resist. We play a lot of "friends" at our house.

My love is like a red, red rose

So I've been staring at the computer for the last 20 minutes, trying to think of something to write about. Then, five minutes ago, Jeremy came home from teaching his evening class. I said, "Dude. What should I blog about?"

He said, "You could always blog about your love for me."

Silence.

The silence, of course, was not because I thought it was a bad idea. Rather, I was contemplating all of the many wonderful ways in which I could express my undying love for him. That's not quite the way he took it.

"I see that doesn't inspire you," he said.

Pause.

"Maybe I could write about National Poetry Month.... No. That's pretty boring."

He left to heat himself some dinner.

Then, like a potato exploding in the microwave, it hit me: I could combine my love for Jeremy with National Poetry Month. Perfecto!

So here, in honor of Jeremy, my undying love for him, and National Poetry Month, I offer you my favorite love poem: Shakespeare's Sonnet 116.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me prov’d,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.


Fantastic! True love, idealism, and beauty--all in 14 compact lines.

And since I'm no poet:

I love you pretty well, JB. I do indeed.