Aunty Jeanna Reviews Some Stuff

Since, as we all know, I have an opinion about pretty much everything (correction: I have an opinion about pretty much everything that is frivolous; I refrain from opinions on…say…politics and philosophy), it’s about time for me to share a few. These are some recent items that I couldn’t just keep to myself.

The IKEA bunkbed (http://tinyurl.com/2pclt4). We bought this when we moved to Maryland so that the toddler could have a big girl bed. And it’s awesome. It’s reversible: you can use it as just a single bed or flip it to use as bunkbeds. We’ve used it both ways, although for now the area under her bed is for playing. Eventually, we’ll move the baby in there to sleep on the bottom. I think they will love being together. This is a fantastic, versatile bed that we’re very happy with. It took some work to put together, but IKEA furniture is generally remarkably easy with reasonable instructions.

The Hamilton Beach ice cream maker (http://tinyurl.com/3e82w7y). Just takes up a little room in the freezer. Makes one lovely little serving of ice cream for each of us (sometimes not so little). Awesome.

Little Pookie. We love Sandra Boynton books. They’re silly and wacky and have good meter (mostly). There are now five Little Pookie books, and they are all reasonably entertaining. But the very best (and completely fantastic) is What’s Wrong, Little Pookie? Have kids? Read it. Don’t have kids? Read it anyway.

Tiffany Aching books. Generally speaking, I dislike coming-of-age novels. I’m not sure why. Perhaps we could set me on a therapist’s couch for a few hours to figure it out, but… no. However, the Tiffany Aching novels (starting with Wee Free Men) by Terry Pratchett are, in my opinion, too delightful to pass up. Yes, they’re partially frivolous and silly, but they’re also partially meaningful. They’re about responsibility and taking your place in the world. Oh, and also about dealing with boys, drunken fairies, frying pans, and the end of the world. So … good times.

Dug’s Joke. Possibly the best joke a dog has ever made. If you have not seen Up, you really really really should. I mean really. Pixar has turned out some really wonderful movies, and this is no exception. But, ahem, now for Dug’s joke: “A squirrel walks up to a tree and says, ‘I forgot to store acorns for the winter and now I am dead.’ Ha! It is funny because the squirrel gets dead.” True.

I was also going to review Wuthering Heights to, you know, give a little balance to all this gushing. But then I realized that if I got going, I might never stop. I might also find myself unable to repress the urge to start throwing things. And since my children are asleep, I don’t really want to wake them with the sound of breaking objects. So perhaps I’ll review that one next time.

Heffalump

Today I was a mother heffalump, caught in a trap with my little baby heffalump. At first I didn’t mind too much. My baby was with me, and the blanket that was spread over our heads seemed relatively harmless.

But then I began to worry.

What did the three-year-old heffalump catcher plan to do with us?

Timidly I asked her, “Are you a nice heffalump catcher? Are you going to eat us for breakfast?”

She wandered off to the kitchen before answering, and I sat in my trap, calling for some handsome, manly rescuer to come save me and my baby. Just such an individual came into the room, but before he had a chance to release us, the heffalump catcher came back and answered my question. “I have plenty of heffalumps in the refrigerator, so I don’t need to eat you for breakfast.”

I’m sure you can imagine my relief.

Carnivals and Pictures

A few weeks ago, we went to a carnival here in Maryland. Coriel and Brice rode on things (well, mostly Coriel), and I tried not to melt. Then, the next weekend, we had our ward carnival, for which I made balloon animals. I was practicing for a while beforehand, but I sure did learn a lot about what it takes to do balloon animals in a time crunch. Actually, I hope I get the experience again some time because it was really fun and I think the kids liked it. Maybe I’ll have to become a street performer at the local festivals and such. Yeah, right.

I shall now proceed to post a plethora of pictures.

Some of our amazing harvest a while back

The mutant cucumber

Addra looooves to eat pretty much everything.

Doing big girl hairstyles with her Aunt Dawnerhead

At the carnival, playing one of the games

"Look at this awesome stuff I won!"

The banana slide Coriel and Brice went on about a million times

Yes, those are fried Oreos. What's a carnival without disgusting carnival food?

"This is my lovely bride." (Yes, that is a direct quote from my sweet daughter.
You can tell she's the boy because she's wearing the boy hat. Her bride is wearing the girl hat.)

Preparing for a carnival ride

It's a teddy bear, in case you were wondering.

More carnival rides

This girl loves to dress up. Sometimes she goes through seven or
eight outfits a day. (I try not to throw a temper tantrum.)

Ward carnival--the watermelon-eating contest. Sadly, Brice did not win.

Some of my practice balloons

What I really love about this picture? It looks like Addra's upper
body has just completely disappeared.

Brice's manly pizza. There's another full layer of pepperoni beneath that cheese.

Taking care of her baby, carrying it around just like her mommy

Ignore the clutter. Focus on the adorable child.

Face painting day. Coriel drew these lovely people on me.

It's a monkey. In a tree.

Six Years

Six years ago yesterday, the rain poured down as Brice and I stood inside the temple, waiting for my brothers to buy some umbrellas. We had just been sealed for eternity.

What to say after six years that hasn’t already been said at least once or twice? Not a lot, probably, except that every day I am more grateful for this marriage to this wonderful man. Where else could I find someone who would laugh with me instead of getting angry when our daughter smears poo all over him—or when our GPS suddenly thinks that we’ve gone airborne? Where else could I find someone who would make me want to be a little better every day (sometimes a lot better)? Someone who is never intimidated by my intelligence and who can more than keep up with me? Someone my children love to see at the end of the day—and someone who loves to see them too. A man who would use the word “aplomb” in the same sentence I would and who knows the color mauve. I could go on and on, but suffice it to say I like him an awful lot.

On that day six years ago, the rain cleared up, leaving it cool and gorgeous for pictures and just for enjoying the day. It sprinkled later on our outdoor reception, but not much. Not enough to mind. It felt a lot like life has been overall: brief, torrential moments of misery and panic but mostly sheer loveliness.

Looking forward to more of the same.

I love you, Brice!

Sisterly Love

Addra's birthday

No one can make my little one laugh like her older sister can. No one delights her as often or as greatly. One day recently I was headed into the bathroom and Coriel was headed into her bedroom. Addra sat in the hallway, trying to decide what to do. She crawled a few steps toward me. Then she looked back and crawled a few steps toward Coriel. Pause. She looked at me briefly one more time before making her choice and heading off to play with Coriel. It touched my soul to see that bond they share.

Sure, I know there will be tough times. Already there are some difficulties with, ahem, sharing. And sometimes Coriel gets so overzealous in her affection that she knocks Addra over (which Addra doesn’t seem to appreciate). And to even think about the future, with two teenage girls in one household—well, I try not to.

But these little moments are so sweet. There is a wealth of love between them, and I am grateful for these gorgeous little spirits.

Coriel is giving Addra her toy giraffe, Poppy, and her
very first doll, Peachy. And also about a thousand blankets.

A snuggle

A snuggle gone bad

Good golly goodness they loved this box.

We'll throw in a Daddy for good measure.

The Great American Memo

Since starting to write a blog, I have noticed how more and more of the world around me looks like a blog post. It’s like that phenomenon where you’ve never heard the world “schadenfreude” before, but as soon as you learn what it means, you suddenly hear people using it everywhere.*

My toddler will say something, or my crawler will chew on something particularly amusing, and the hubby and I will say to each other, “That looks like a blog post!”

What I’ve noticed, though, is that a single moment or a funny line doesn’t necessarily translate into much more. And yet they are sitting in my brain, dying to be shared.

This, my friends, is their moment in the spotlight.

This is the day of the Great American Memo, a tribute to a few ideas and one-liners that are never going to merit a write-up on their own.

1. The Great American Memo. When I was younger, and significantly more delusional than I am now, I daydreamed occasionally of writing The Great American Novel. Full of symbolism and angst and sheer epic-ness. Then I realized I didn’t even like reading most of these novels all that much, so there was no way I was actually going to write them. So I downgraded my daydreams from Epic to Entertaining.
   Recently my sister gave me possibly the most awesome pen I have owned for a very long time. It is pink. I mean really pink. It has feathers. And a crown. Sheer awesomeness. We laughed and laughed. I’ll never use it to write The Great American Novel. But perhaps, at least, The Great American Memo.

2. No-Touchback Germ Warfare. The toddler has a cough again. What a shock. I hope that she got it from the crawler because that would mean that the crawler is not in danger of getting sick again. It’s like Tag, you know? No touchbacks.

3. Scooby-Doo and the Ghoul School. Where do all the really bad monster puns go to die painfully and repeatedly? They go to this movie. I envision a roomful of screenwriters sitting together one night, probably charged up on a lot of caffeine and too little sleep. They are all feeling nostalgic for the many terrible jokes they’ll never find a movie for.** And thus is born Scooby-Doo and the Ghoul School. Take every awful vampire/werewolf/mummy joke you can possibly imagine, and shove them all into one movie. Ta-da. Tragically, we own this movie. The toddler loves it, so I’ve seen it about 7 million times. I have not yet “accidentally” crushed it with a sledgehammer, so I think I deserve nomination for sainthood.

4. Mr. Potatohead. It was a while ago, and the hubby had just shaved his head. I’m not sure what he was doing, but suddenly the toddler said, “Your head looks like a potato.” Need we say more?

5. Give a baby a fish…and she will gnaw on it for hours. Imagine a room full of toys. Brightly colored toys, balls, puzzles, dolls, wooden blocks. They squeak, they play music, they light up. And off in the corner, a small piece of faded, dirty cardboard. Now insert my baby into that room. Imagine which item will immediately enter her mouth and be slowly dissolved in slobber. There is something magnetic about stuff your baby shouldn’t chew on.

I believe this ends Round 1 of the Great American Memo. Stay tuned in a couple of months for more ideas I will never write up on their own.

*Is there a word for that phenomenon? That would be cool. 
**Not unlike me, I fear, feeling sorry for my little moments that will never be good enough for a full post. Am I my own sleep-deprived screenwriter? Gack!*

Blog Post FAIL

So, immediately after my immense spate of blog posts the other week (note, sadly, that once again it has been more than a week since I last wrote; curses!), I went into the kitchen to talk to Brice.

“Guess what I was just doing? Blogging like mad!” I said. “And I even wrote newsy posts this time!”

I then began to tell him in general terms what I had written about.

“Oh, and I wrote about our tomato guardian…. Well, okay, that’s not really very newsy. But I wrote about the ROUS…. I guess that’s not all that newsy either….”

Then I started to think a bit. And I realized that the “Why?” posts also weren’t exactly newsy. In my brain they were—I was communicating about Coriel’s current behaviors and all—but I’m just not sure they came out that way.

So in the end, it turns out that even when I try to write newsy posts, I only succeed about 43 percent of the time. FAIL.

And now that I have used the word “newsy” so many times, it really sounds weird.

Happy

Dear wifey, thank you for making our blog interesting and beautiful (kind of like you!). That is all. ~B