the toothbrush bandit

I don't know what it is with this kid, but he has this strange fixation with toothbrushes (and chap stick, and dog food...but today we'll just touch on the toothbrush theme). No matter how high I put them up, or how well I hide them...he always gets to them. There isn't a cabinet he can't scale...nor a surface he can't pull himself on top of. He'll go to great lengths for a chance to put his little paws (and teeth, and tongue, and lips) on our toothbrushes. He'll grab a handful of them and carry them all around the house with him, which totally grosses me out if I I overthink it...like sometimes I imagine him swirling them around in the toilet, or using them like a brush on the dog's hair. I have no idea where those things have been. I guess what I don't know won't ever hurt me (unless I end up with e. coli or hepatitis or some other nasty bacteria). In conjunction with this somewhat annoying obsession, however, he LOVES to have his teeth brushed. So I guess I'll take the bad with the good, and pray he moves on to bigger and better things real soon... well, except for knifes. Asher please stay away from the knives.

frolicking in the clovers

One thing that drives me crazy about myself, is that I get these high expectations of how things are supposed to turn out...how I want them to be. I'm an idealist. I envision and dream...creating in my mind - perfect moments, perfect scenarios, perfect situations. I guess it's not necessarily a bad thing, per se; but because I have such a hard time adapting my expectations when things don't turn out as planned, I end up giving up and getting upset...which is never a good thing.

This morning I had set my alarm for the crack of dawn, for no other reason than to get everything just perfect for our annual St. Patty's Day photo. That was probably my first mistake...a St. Patrick's day photo is just not a legitimate reason to interrupt good sleep. So anyway, in the course of the morning, things went from bad to worse...from the camera malfunction, to the kids' snotty noses, to the dogs' pulling and tugging at their perfectly tied and thoughtfully placed green bows (yes I did say dogs, as in plural...we are dog sitting Zoe, our niece Karen's maltese - so cute...and even cuter with two green bows tied in her ears - which lasted all of two minutes), the sun was too bright, Ruby wouldn't cooperate, Asher was screaming...the list goes on...and on. So I finally threw my arms in the air and declared we're through, it's over. John just laughed, and totally didn't understand my frustration, which added even more to my chagrin. He left for work looking handsome in his green green shirt and tie, and I hung my head feeling defeated...and disappointed...and embarrassed for making such a big deal over something so trivial.

I asked Ruby to change out of her 'green' outfit (the one I let her pick out at the store last night - specifically for our awesome family photo), and into her dance outfit (the one that the two of us had put together - in honor of the holiday- and laid out the day before). After she got all ready, we tied green ribbons on green suckers for all the girls in the dance class, and even had some time left over for a few pictures. The only thing she was interested in, however, was picking flowers...which totally bugged me. She would not hold still for a single photo. She wouldn't even so much as look at me. I had dreamed about how darling these photos would turn out...she'd be sitting on the little white chair in front of the shower curtain (which I had envisioned would make the best backdrop), with the most beautiful little smile on her perfect little face. There I go dreaming my way into fantasy land again. She agreed to finally let me take some pictures of her, but only if she could dance, and she would only dance if I put on the Glee soundtrack for her. She is very particular with her requests. I was happy to oblige, and enjoyed watching her frolic in the clovers while I went crazy with the shutter button. Too bad Asher missed out on all the fun...poor guy was so crabby during our first attempt, giving me no other choice than to put him back in his bed.

So after all that, we get to Ruby's dance, only to find out that the studio was closed due to spring break. Defeated and beaten once again. Ruby turned to me with a sad look and said so mom, does that mean I get to eat all the suckers? That made me laugh...for the first time today actually - I laughed.

The day ended up being a great one, different than how I had envisioned, but in many ways - better. Better because there was no plan. Better because we could just do what we wanted, when we wanted, and for as long as we wanted. No agendas, no schedules, nowhere we needed to be, nothing we absolutely needed to do. We went and visited John at work and passed out suckers to him and all his coworkers, and then headed to the dollar store so that the kids could pick out a toy; and we came home and colored...and played...and enjoyed the rest of our afternoon together.

And the camera stayed on the shelf.

top o' the morning to you...

I had big plans for our traditional St. Patrick's Day family photo shoot...but everything that could have gone wrong - did - and I ended up throwing in the towel.

Maybe I'll try again later. For now, we're off to take Ruby to dance...isn't she just cute and festive?

the worst

I think one of the worst things that comes with being a parent, is having to watch your children suffer. Whether it be from a skinned up knee, a case of the 24 hour flu, or listening as they recount how their feelings were hurt earlier that day. As parents, we have an inherent desire to put our arms around our children and protect them...protect them from harm, protect them from danger, protect them from pain and discomfort...and of course, to protect them from ever getting their heart broken.

For as long as I can remember - starting when she was just months old, in fact - Ruby has suffered with respiratory problems...mainly croup. I can't even count the number of times we have awoken in the night to the familiar sound of a barking seal...followed by frantic gasps for air. This year alone, this infection has plagued her (us) 5 times. And last night was no less scary. In fact, in some ways, it was a lot more scary. We have a nebulizer, coupled with a year supply of little 3 ml vials of Albuterol Sulfate. We keep them in a container under our bed so that we can get to them easily and quickly if need be. It never ceases to amaze me how quick an attack can come on. Anyone whose child suffers with frequent bouts of croup will understand when I say that on many occasions, we have put Ruby to bed in great spirits - without so much as a runny nose - only to have her wake within 10 minutes...coughing...barking...crying...and gasping. As scary as it is, and as terrible as it always sounds, I know that we are well equipped with the supplies needed to provide quick relief, so I never worry too much. What made last night almost unbearable, however, was Ruby's own panic-stricken state. In between each convulsion for air, she would cry in trepidation I can't breathe! The more we tried to calm her down, the more frantic she became, contributing even more to the struggle for breath. We tried to explain to her between the yelling and flailing limbs, that if she would just calm down and take the breathing treatment - in a matter of seconds - it would become easier. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she struggled for air. That was the hardest part. We knew she would be OK. We knew that we had all the resources to make her feel better, but trying to get her to relax, to believe us and trust us...that was the hardest, saddest part of all. I don't know how it finally happened, but after what seemed an eternity, she finally relaxed long enough for the bronchodilator to work it's magic, and within minutes...she was fast asleep in John's arms. The struggle was finally over.

And then I went crazy with the camera.

just perfect

Today we went to the zoo for Ruby's field trip. It was an absolute perfect day to visit the zoo. The weather was beautiful - a bit chilly - but still sunny and pleasant. The kids were well behaved. The animals were as bizarre, and amazing, and intriguing as usual. I exchanged heartfelt conversation with a dear friend. And the kids slept the entire way home - allowing me the opportunity to reflect...and contemplate...and take it all in.

Perfect I tell you. Just perfect.

waiting...

The other day we stopped off at John's work to pick him up for lunch, and ended up waiting 30 minutes before he finally came out. While we were just sitting there, and to appease the doldrums of waiting, I snapped this picture of myself with my phone. I guess I wanted to see what my 'bored' face looked like.



After messing around with my phone for far too long, changing Asher's poopy diaper, and easing the kids' hunger pangs (by shoving candy in their mouths)...I surprisingly, still had time to do some pondering. While we waited, my wandering mind got to thinking about how much of my life is spent just waiting. Waiting in line at the grocery store, waiting on hold with the Dr's office...or the cell phone company...or whomever, waiting for John to get home from work, waiting for the weekend, waiting for test results, waiting for my children's obnoxious phases to end, waiting for summer to come, waiting for the next vacation, waiting for the sun to rise...waiting for this, waiting for that.

And then I really got to thinking about the world we live in...how fast-paced it has become, how instantly we need to be gratified, how restless and sometimes even annoyed we become when confronted with even the slightest delay. But isn't it good to have to wait for things? I think so. It teaches us patience. It teaches us self-restraint. It teaches us to really love and appreciate - all the more - that which we have waited for once it finally becomes ours. I think the most important thing to remember, is to not become stagnant while we wait. We should never stop going, and doing, and moving, and loving...we should never stop living.

I got a letter a couple of months back from a dear sweet sister in my ward. The same week our ward fasted for me, they also fasted for her. Her cancer had progressed to the point where she was bed-ridden and extremely ill. A few days after the fast, I received this letter from her, and would like to share just a portion of it which has had a profound impact on my life:
Being ill has taught me how precious living is; the greatest miracle of all, and is ours to enjoy every day.

A couple of weeks after I received this beautiful letter, dear sweet Jackie passed away. Even though I immediately wrote her back, I doubt she realized the lesson she taught me before she was taken from this earth. While she lay in bed, possibly 'waiting' to die, she mustered up every ounce of energy she possessed to write me a note, admonishing the enjoyment and amplification of life. Imagine that...serving to the very end. She reminded me, indirectly, of something I have always known but seem to forget on a daily basis...it's that amidst the delays, it's important to keep on living, and loving, and serving; and that before we know it, the vexatious waiting will be over. The last thing I want to do is wish and wait my life away.

So while I 'wait' for John to get home from work, rather than killing time on the internet, taking pointless self-portraits of myself, or mindlessly watching as the second hand circles it's way around the clock; I think I'll grab my kids...we have some laughing, loving, and living to do.

i take it back

So maybe I'm not really loving Ruby's artwork after all. Tonight she handed me this, and in her own words said, it's a picture of you, mommy, with a beautiful mustache...a Hitler mustache no less.

Ruby, grow up.

drawings

I just love Ruby's artwork. I think I'll be sad the day she actually starts drawing bodies. I kind of like how, from her perspective, everybody's arms and legs protrude from their heads. Actually, I just noticed that some of us don't even have arms at all, but at least we have ears and beautiful earrings...

Ruby, please don't ever grow up.

the new bed

that she hates, and absolutely refuses to sleep in...

is at least good for something.

There had to be a reason we paid $300 for a twin size mattress.

I mean the more expensive the mattress, the higher one should be able to jump, right?

i still love you

I tell you, this little sweetheart can make you feel like a million bucks. Tonight she overheard me complaining to John (like I do quite often) about how large I feel. He (like he always does) assured me that I'm not, and Ruby said it's ok mom, I still love you. It's good to know that even if I was as large as our house, Ruby would still love me.

An hour or two later, I was going through the whole bed time routine with her. She told me that she hated her new bed and only liked mom and dad's bed. I told her that she was breaking my heart because her daddy and I put a lot into that bed, setting it up and making it real special just for her. Then she said mommy, even though I sometimes break your heart...I still love you.

Guess where she's sleeping tonight?

Am I the world's biggest softy or what?

a child's prayer...

I love hearing Ruby pray. We call on her to pray over most our meals...simply because we can't wait to hear what she'll come up with. What I love the most is how she'll just go off on a tangent and start talking about her hopes and dreams...in the middle of blessing the food.

This was Ruby's prayer over breakfast this morning...

Dear Heavenly Father,

Please bless my mommy, and my daddy, and my little baby brother.

Please bless my mommy, and my daddy, and my little baby brother. (No, I did not make a mistake here...she asked Him to bless everyone in her family - twice. Something which she does quite often. I think it's her way of putting emphasis on the things she desires most.)

Please bless my doggy, too...and my balloon.

And Heavenly Father, bless Santa, and his elves, and his reindeer.

Do you remember that Santa brought me presents, and his elves gave me candy?

And I'm so sorry we didn't have a fire and a chimly.

And I really wish we had a fire and a chimly.

James (her cousin) has a fire and a chimly.

Maybe we can buy a fire and a chimly at Costco, because I saw one there yesterday.

And Heavenly Father, please bless the food....

Often times, she'll ask Heavenly Father to bless Jesus. That's probably my favorite thing to hear. I also love how she still prays that He'll bless mom's hand to get better (from my surgery). She is just so thoughtful and loving...and wants to tell Heavenly Father everything...and I mean everything. But isn't that what our Heavenly Father wants? For us tell him everything...our hopes and dreams, as well as our sorrows and disappointments? He's our loving Father, and even though he knows us even better than we know ourselves, and even though he already knows our hopes and dreams...sorrows and disappointments, I'm sure (just like any father and mother would), he just wants to hear it come from us.

Imagine how much better our relationship with our Heavenly Father would be if we prayed with such honesty, such sincerity, and such faith...if we really shared what was on our minds and in our hearts - like little children do. I'm grateful for my little Ruby, who is constantly teaching me important lessons of faith, charity, and love. It's no wonder the Savior taught us to"...become as a little child or ye can in nowise inherit the kingdom of God." 3 Nephi 11:37-38

cancer free...

This picture was taken about 5 days or so after I had surgery to remove the melanoma from my hand. It's kind of a weird picture that I took using the webcam. In fact, when John saw it, he said what is that, your knee? So in case anyone else is having a hard time making sense of this picture, it's actually my hand - just held up super close to the camera. I don't even understand how he got a leg and a knee out of this?...plus he of all people should know that I am so not capable of pulling off such impressive acrobatic feats.

So anyway, when I first found out that I had malignant melanoma, I was scared, sure - but I also remember kneeling down immediately and thanking my Heavenly Father for prompting me to get in to the doctor when I did. He blessed me in that moment with an overwhelming sense of peace...along with the assurance that everything would turn out ok. Nothing beats the satisfaction of knowing that your life is in bigger hands...even in the Lord's perfect, loving, healing hands.

My dermatologist's office gave me the name and number of a Mohs surgeon to call for an appointment. I have to admit that it was a bit disheartening to hear that I would have to wait 6 weeks for surgery. Even though I had received that strong assurance that everything would be alright, I sometimes couldn't stop the fear from setting in. I'm ashamed to admit that there were days in which I couldn't even see the point in living anymore. All kinds of scenarios entertained my thoughts....bad, ugly scenarios. Of course most of them centered around me not being able to beat the disease and leaving my children motherless, and my dear husband a young widower. Some days those thoughts (which I now totally recognize as coming from the adversary) got the better of me, and for a day or two at a time, I stopped being a mom and a wife altogether. I remember one day, just lying on the couch in the kids' playroom- staring blankly at a wall - while they entertained themselves...for hours and hours. I had to come to the realization that no matter what I was going through, or what the future held, I was still their mother...that I was still living and breathing; and that as long as that air was still filling my lungs, and as long as my heart was still pumping blood - I had a right, even a responsibility to be those kids' mom. So fortunately, I snapped out of the whole woe is me mindset, and returned to living, and loving, and enjoying life to it's fullest. Sure, in that 6 weeks leading up to my surgery, there were still days of uncertainty, maybe a little bit of fear...anxiety for sure. But most of all I was just anxious to be rid of such an intrusive disease. I hated the thought and feeling that something so horrific - even the very culprit of my own mother's death - was invading my body...albeit just a part of my body. It made me mad more than anything.

I was at home one Sunday afternoon with sick kids...it was a couple of weeks before my scheduled surgery, and I was starting to get anxious for John to walk in the door (seeing how it was already a good 45 minutes after the completion of our block of Sunday meetings). Finally, after about an hour, he greeted me in the family room - puffy eyed and splotchy faced. Through his tears he opened up to me about a lot of his feelings, along with some of his fears - feelings and fears which evidently had been plaguing him for weeks. I have to admit, I was pretty shocked. Not shocked that he was actually worried about me, or that he, too, was concerned and unsure about our future, as well as the outcome of my diagnosis; but maybe just a little shocked that he was just now opening up about it and sharing such raw emotion with me. John's not a big crier...at least not in front of me. It wasn't until a couple of years after we lost our baby boy, Isaac, that he shared with me how during that time he would wait til I had fallen asleep in my hospital bed -when it was dark and everyone had gone home for the night - to cry. And because he had to be strong and hold the tears back all day long, he almost couldn't stop the flood gates at night...and some nights, he told me, he would cry until the sun came up. I married such a tender man...he just doesn't very often wear his heart of his sleeve like I do. So anyway, he came home from church that afternoon, and was really, really upset. He told me that he was afraid, and that he didn't want to lose me, and that he didn't know what he would do it I was taken away from him. He explained to me that the reason he was so late getting home from church was because he was sharing some of these same feelings with our relief society president, and that afterwards our Bishop pulled him into his office and asked John what his thoughts were about holding a ward fast in my behalf. John was very touched...completely on board in fact, but warned the Bishop that he didn't think I would be too keen on the idea.

Sure enough, when John shared all of this with me, I was pretty reluctant to the suggestion. Not because I don't have faith in the power of fasting and prayer, because I do...especially when whole bodies of people come together and join their faith in one common purpose. I have literally seen miracles happen that way. So it wasn't because of any doubt on my part, or a lack of faith...it was quite simply, because of my own pride and embarrassment, because of the undue attention, and mostly because - even though I had been worried, and my family had been worried - I just didn't feel like this was a serious enough matter to bother the church members with. Living in Arizona, I'm sure that many of them had experienced exactly what I was going through, even worse, and we had never done a ward fast for them. After putting much thought into it, I finally concluded that I needed to let go of my pride. The Lord taught me through his Holy Spirit, that not only would this fast benefit me and my family, but that it would strengthen the faith of the ward members. That it would be good for them to come together, to unite their faith, and to witness the miracles of the Lord.

Not having my family close by, I - now more than ever - feel like I have a huge support group in my ward family - a giant family of members who have embraced me, loved me, and treated me like their own daughter or sister. That ward fast was the best thing that could have ever happened.

I went in for my surgery two weeks later. It was early morning, December 16, 2009. I wasn't scared. I didn't feel nervous. Actually the word excited probably best describes the way that I felt as John drove me to the surgical center. Excited may be a weird word to use in reference to surgery...but I think I felt that way mostly because I knew that at the end of the day, this whole nightmare would be over.

The surgery was performed under a local anesthetic, which means I was awake and alert for the whole thing, which means - because it was on my hand (and not my face or some other inconspicuous body part) - I was privileged (or ill-fated...depending on how you look at it) to watch the whole thing.

Mohs surgery is performed in 4 steps, and sometimes several stages are necessary (repeating each step) in removing all the cancer. First, they remove all the visible cancerous tissue, along with a small section of surrounding tissue. Then, they map the tissue by freezing and cutting it into microscopic pieces and shooting a dye through it. By staining the tissue, the pathologist is then able to study the sections on slides under a microscope, and determine where the cancer is traveling...if it is. This process if repeated until no further cancer is found.

For me, the actual surgery lasted only about 15 minutes, but we had to wait over 3 hours in the waiting room while they processed the slides. Fortunately for us, only one stage was required and I was pronounced "cancer free". After all those weeks of anticipating...of worrying and wondering, of praying and fasting, of crying, and almost even throwing in the towel...those two words were like sweet music to my ears. I felt relieved, and liberated, like I had just subdued the enemy...because I had. Cancer is my enemy...it's my big huge fat archenemy. It took the life of my very best friend - my mom. We all know and love someone who has fallen prey to this merciless disease. It seems to have no boundaries. So hearing the words "you're cancer free!", made me feel like I had overcome a lot...like I had accomplished something great. Of course I would feel very ungrateful if I didn't recognize my Heavenly Father's hand in all of this. Like I said earlier, it is so comforting to know that someone who really knows us, someone who is so much bigger and greater than we are, has us tucked safely in the palm of His hand.

And I'm especially grateful He's allowed me to stick around for awhile.

focabulary...

I might just be biased because she's my girl, but I've always been impressed with Ruby's vocabulary. She started speaking pretty early; and when she spoke, it was always easy to understand her. She has surprised me over the last year or two by adding new words, big words (relatively speaking) to her repertoire. Words like - absolutely, positively, fantastic, and wonderful - are some of my all-time favorites. I don't know, I guess they're not really big words, just words that aren't heard often from most 2 and 3 year olds. I think she picks up a lot of her vocabulary from her favorite cartoon show Charlie and Lola. It's about two little brittish kids (brother and sister), who have the most irresistible little english accents. It's enchanting to watch these two interact, and to hear some of the things that they say...especially Lola - she's hilarious. I know for a fact that it was at the hand of Lola that Ruby started opining everything to be her favorite and her best. "Mom," she'll say to me "this chocolate bar is my favorite and my best" or "mom, this book is my favorite and my best". She's also been known to combine words making her own special Ruby words. Fantastical is probably my favorite. She uses this one a lot. Back in October, after I had finished sewing my Wendy costume for Halloween, I held it up for Ruby to look at. I'll never forget her reply "Oh mom, (in the most drah-ma-tic little voice) it looks so fantastical and pretty"! She has used this one several times since. To her, something might be wonderful and fantastical, or absolutely fantastic, or positively wonderful...I simply love the combinations she comes up with.
I think she does a fairly good job of putting her sentences together and using her words in the right context, however there are several words that she just hasn't mastered yet. Here are a few:

fantastical (once again, my favorite and my best..ha)
gorilla bar for granola bar
alligator for elevator
tummy egg for tummy ache (This one is particularly funny because of how literally she understands it. She thinks that if you eat too much, rather than feeling those uncomfortable stomach pains from overeating (or a tummy ache), your stomach will actually take on the shape of a giant egg from all that excess food. You know- a tummy egg...duh!)
nakeup for makeup
net's go for let's go
nast night for last night
bunton for button
accinent for accident
valentime's day (I think it's funny that for as much as she uses the 'n' sound in words that don't have an 'n', she actually substitutes the 'n' for an 'm' in this one.)
oar for our
borilla for umbrella
colthd for cold
lose for use
olthd for old
yestuhday (refers to anything in the past, be it a day or a year)
hanatizer for hand sanitizer

Sometimes John will try to correct her when she uses some of the above words or phrases. I always stop him. I find it so endearing, so redolent of right here and right now, so characteristic of her age and her youth...which we all know will not last forever. Before we know it, she will make those corrections on her own. Of course, when that happens, I know we will just long for the days when she wanted to push all the buntons on the alligator, and when we ate so many gorilla bars that we got tummy eggs, and then headed back to oar house to escape from the colthd. Yes, before we know it - these days, these experiences - will be tomorrow's (and next year's) nast nights; and be thought of, referred to, and talked about as "the good olthd days" of yestuhday.

On a different note, Ruby has finally mastered writing her name. In fact, she leaves her little mark (one which she cannot blame on Asher) on just about everything. A couple of days ago she wrote her name on a pink balloon and gave it to me as a memento. I am her biggest fan, so it was quite an honor to recieve a personal autograph.

do you ever?

Do you ever have one of those days where you don't feel like doing a thing...except maybe curling up in your bed and sleeping the whole day away? The rain seems to do that to me. And today it hasn't appeared to let up...for even a second.
The kids and I set up a little table in the middle of the kitchen floor to eat our lunch. Now before you go thinking oh, she's such a fun mom, I need to confess that the kitchen table was covered with junk and I didn't have the desire, nor the energy, to clear it off so that we could eat. Luckily the kids weren't cognizant of that fact, and so they still think I'm the greatest mom on the planet. Now that they're both tucked away in their beds for a (let's hope) really long nap, I think I'll go and do the same.

That darn rain.

how do i look?

Tonight after spending a good chunk of the evening in front of the mirror, Ruby turned to me and asked, "How do I look, mom?". I couldn't help but laugh. She had two hair clips in her hair, one fastened to her neckline, and somehow she had managed to dangle a set of nail clippers to the fabric of her gown. And she was as proud as punch.

crush...

I loved spending the day with Ruby as we prepared for her preschool Valentine's Day party. We had the best time making sugar cookies topped with pink frosting and valentine nonpareils. Ruby's job was to deluge the sprinkles as I finished frosting each cookie. Of course, the best part was when we got to sample them.

I loved watching her as she decorated her valentine's box which I had wrapped beforehand in brown paper. I gave her an assortment of pink, red, and purple paper, a heart-shaped paper punch, and the glue gun. It was her first time using the glue gun, and I loved being witness to her excitement as she squirted huge globs of glue, and then stuck scraps of paper and cut-out hearts on each side and top of the box. We tied a big pink ribbon around the entire box, and then tied a bow at the top. It was a masterpiece.

Then it was on to the actual valentine's cards. She took pride in writing her name on each and every valentine. I don't think she even noticed that I went back through them all and rewrote her name (in parenthesis) next to each illegible chicken scratched "Ruby".

I thought it was cute that more than once throughout the day, she asked me about Kerry's valentine. Kerry is one of the boys in her class. She wanted to know which valentine card was for Kerry. And then she asked me if I thought Kerry would like her valentine, and then it was "mom, do you think Kerry likes purple? Or should we change his to green?"
Now, I don't claim to be an expert in the love department; but in my experience, one wouldn't worry and fret this much over a valentine...unless they had some kind of feelings for the recipient of said valentine. I asked Ruby if she had a crush on Kerry.
"What?" she asked, a bit embarrassed.
"Well, I mean, do you like Kerry? Do you think he's cute?"
"No mom! I don't! I like Bennett, I think he's cute, and I have a crush on him not Kerry".

Now normally I would think it was all good and fun...but the fact that Bennett happens to be her cousin, poses a bit of a problem. Not to mention the fact that cousin Bennett seems to have a bit of a crush on Ruby's best friend, Ava, as a hand-written "I love you" adorned the valentine card that he gave her. Sounds like a juicy love triangle if you ask me.

Later Ruby told me that she had a crush on Dix-d (our dog), so I'm taking it she may be a bit confused as to the precise meaning of the word. And pretty much in the same sentence she told me that she doesn't like boys at all, that she only likes girls. So I'm thinking we don't have anything to worry about...at least for a few more years (let's hope).

"puh bah"

Our sweet little Asher, bless his heart...still doesn't say much. Every once in a while he'll utter "mom"...and once in a real great while he'll mutter "dad"; but really that's about the extent of his vocabulary. One can only imagine my surprise, when after I rewarded his good behavior with puff ball, he exclaimed "puh bah". It's become his new (and pretty much only) favorite word. Sometimes I'll just let him add a puff ball to his jar for no reason at all...other than the fact that my heart melts every time I hear that high pitched little voice beam "puh ball". It seriously has to be one of the sweetest things I have ever heard.

Who would have thought this little nut could make me so happy?

making progress...

About 6 months ago (after learning that Ruby's friend, Ava - who is just 5 months older than she is, was beginning to read) I started feeling like a really bad mom. Up to that point, Im embarrassed to admit, I had never sat her down and worked with her on learning the letters of the alphabet, let alone the sounds associated with each letter. Our occasional singing of the ABC's was about the extent of her academic acuteness. I decided that is was high time we get busy, and do our best to make up for lost time. The first time I sat down with her was a complete joke. We started with the letter "A". I drew an "A", and next to it I drew an apple. See Ruby, this is an "A". An "A" sounds like this: a a a apple. I remember repeating it over and over again, and then having her say it back to me. We spent a good 10-15 minutes on the letter "A" before moving on to "B". Then I did the same thing. Ruby this is a "B" (with a banana sketched next to it). "B" sounds like this: b b b banana. After I was convinced that she had learned everything there was to know about the letter "B", I went back to "A". Okay, now Ruby, what letter is this, do you remember? "Ummm", she hesitated, 'R'? Like a a a banana?" Oh dear, I thought. But the thought also came to me, as I excused her to return to her princesses and baby dolls, that she simply wasn't ready...and that she didn't need to be either. Since then, I haven't forced the issue. I'll sit her down occasionally to see if she's picked up on anything at preschool, if anything that she's been taught has actually penetrated. Each time we sit down together, however, I find myself as frustrated as I was during our very first endeavor. I guess I just figured that because she's almost 4, and because she's been in preschool for almost 6 months now, she would be a bit more advanced than she actually is. A few weeks ago, I decided to come up with some ways to teach her the letters that would be fun and easier for her to learn. For example for "B", I said "okay, picture a bee buzzing around and coming up to the letter "B"...he gets excited when he sees the two holes in the letter "B" because he can fly in the top hole, and out the bottom one." For "O" I opened my mouth in an "O" shape, and just repeated "oh, oh, oh" over and over again.For "P" I said, "Look Ruby, the letter 'P' has an opening in the top that looks like a little potty...it should be easy for you to remember that, because you "pee" in the potty". I probably taught her 6 or 7 letters that night, which surprisingly, she still remembers. She is constantly on the lookout for familiar letters, and isn't ashamed to blurt one out as soon as she recognizes it. We were at the store the other day, and she excitedly exclaimed "look mom, you can go pee in the potty, that's a "P"! or "mom, the bee flies in the top hole and out the bottom, I see a "B"!A couple of weeks ago, she asked me if I could teach her how to write her name. She still isn't able to do it without my help; but she'll watch intently as I draw each letter, and then does a brilliant job of copying me...which makes me burst with pride because we are finally making some progress.