Jane Austen Rules

Last month I devoted myself to all things Jane Austen. She was one terrific writer. Do you think when this life is over that I can request to just to Jane Austen? I think we could be friends. I've now read her entire complete works because I think there are a few books she didn't finish and there are still her journals. Here is how I rate her books:

#1 Pride and Prejudice.

This story never gets old. Elizabeth Bennett is such a great character. I love her wit and Tim loves her cleavage in the BBC movie version. Heck, even I'm a little impressed with her bosom. She is the idyllic heroine.

#2 Emma

Emma is such a close second to P & P but just can't quite beat it out. Emma is funny and clueless and really has a good heart. I love that Mr. Knightly brings her back to earth.

#3 Mansfield Park

Fanny Price is such a weird heroine, but one that only Jane Austen could make work. She has no physical strength but you contrast that with her moral strength and you've got an awesome heroine. This one is not as funny as the first two but Mrs. Norris is a fun study in hypocrisy. The love story in this one really leaves much to be desired and yet I'm satisfied with the novel on a whole.

#4 Persuasion

Again, given my mood, you could switch Persuasion and Mansfield on any given day. Persuasion is unique because the heroine in this novel has made a big mistake. And the hero holds it against her. I love it! By the end she more than proves herself worthy of Captain Wentworth. I really like the BBC version of this novel.

#5 Sense and Sensibility

This one was so difficult for me to get through. I think because she has a split heroine. The Dashwood sisters together make a good heroine but separately there isn't much I admire. The movie with Hugh Grant really helped me put the puzzle together and I think if I had seen the movie first and then read the novel I would have liked it better. That is almost never the case that I like a movie better than book.

#6 Northanger Abby

This is where things get dicey. I liked Northanger a lot. It is a quick read. Shallow. Lighthearted. But how to compare it to the other Austens? I can't. It gets the 6th position out of default. I think that Jane must have been on a bender when she wrote this novel. Catherine is one dimensional and dumb and easily controlled. I don't love that. But she is lovable. Like a big dumb golden retriever. I can't help but like her.

I am officially worn out with Jane Austen. But I feel so smart when I read her novels and then I start saying words like, indeed, scruples, and shocking in my every day language and it gives me a little kick to the day.

Hill Air Field Museum

Last weekend we took the boys to the Hill Air Force Base Museum. I learned a few things. First, I know nothing about planes. This kindly WWII vet stopped and started talking to me and he had great stories from his reconnaissance missions on the pacific during the war and he asked me if I had any questions about the planes and I know so little I couldn't even formulate a question. Second, I learned that Tim knows a lot about planes and really enjoys seeing them. Who knew? Not me. Third, that all the boys in my family and possibly all boys in general are drawn to planes like the moth to the flame. When Tim said he wanted to take the boys there I was really skeptical that it would interest the boys. I was wrong. They loved seeing all the planes and bombs (my personal fav) and missiles. The reason I think it might be all boys in general is because when Tim told his family, that we had gone to the museum, at a family dinner the next night, all the men seemed to know all about the planes. It was B2 this and SR something that. Tim felt like he performed a fatherly duty by correcting Gage's thought that all the guns on the planes were laser guns. He had to break the news that laser guns aren't real. At least he has bullets and bombs to put in their place. And, I had to break it to Luke that we couldn't just buy one of the helicopters. I was pleasantly surprised with our trip...we had a real rootin tootin time.

Even Grandpa Burt likes planes.

What could be cooler than sparks?

Grandpa got some first hand knowledge of just how heavy Claire is.

Look at those nerds.

I'm not really taller than Tim.

Accident Prone

I've always been accident prone. I tease with people that I'm all arms and legs and they think that I'm being self deprecating but what they don't know is, it's the honest to gospel truth. I broke both my arms my sixth grade year about six months apart. The doctor called child protective services. I fell down an entire flight of stairs at the U because I saw a cute guy. I got his attention alright when I was sprawled at his feet amid various forms of exclamations like, "oooooohhhhhhh!" Don't even get me started on church ball. Just because I'm 5'10" doesn't mean I'm good at basketball! The first time I went skiing I spent more time on my behind then up on my skis and of course I had a spectacular fall in the middle of a group of cute guys. Oh yeah, I was getting on the ski lift. This is just a few of my many acts of clumsiness. In my adult-hood, I flatter myself that I've gotten my clumsiness under control. Mostly because I avoid sports or other places where I can make a fool of myself.

The last couple of weeks I feel like I'm an adolescent again. When I got dressed this morning and I caught a glimpse of my legs in the mirror I wasn't just horrified by the spider veins and cellulite, I also saw that my legs were covered in bruises. All in various forms of coloration. I looked like rainbow bright. I seem to be running into everything. The corner of the couch, counter, dresser. Today I was running upstairs and the big toe on my right foot got caught in the pant leg of my left foot and I went down. Really, who does that? I smacked my shin on the tile and both my arms feel tweaked. No broken bones this time. My face got all red just thinking of someone seeing me do something so stupid.

My worst act of accident-ness was tonight. While I was backing up the van I heard a horrible crunch. This is the second time in as many months that I've heard a crunch while backing out the van. Last time it was because Gage thought it would be soooo much faster to ride Luke's scooter the ten feet from the door to the van and he conveniently left it behind the van unbeknownst to me. "I didn't plan it mom," was his excuse. So when I heard the crunch tonight I was already cursing that dang Gage in my head. Then I got out and realized that I had left the back hatch open from taking out the stroller and I had backed into the garage door. It had broken off a piece of the back. Tim was able to snap it back on thankfully but when I went to close the garage door it was all ski wampy, higher on one side than the other, and it wouldn't close. That's just great. Did I go back in time somehow? Is this some kind of trick where you think you aren't a lurpy 13 year-old and then bam! Mother nature laughs manically at you while you fall down the stairs and crunch perfectly good mini-vans? Throw me a bone here!

Will Blog For Comments

I tend to be a bit negative when it comes to all the ways we "connect" via technology. Some of it seems so shallow and superficial. But when it comes to my blog I hope you know how much your comments mean to me. At the risk of sounding very sappy, my last post was written in a haze of negative emotion, but when I started getting comments it was like a little hug from somebody who cares. It really made a difference in my day and I wanted to say, "Thank you!"

We Interrupt This Blog to Bring You Jessica's Whining

Disclaimer: This post is dedicated to my own personal pity party. You read at your own risk.

I always feel bad when I write posts like the one I'm about to write. But when I was thinking about it, I wondered, if the Handcart Pioneers had recorded nothing but rainbows and butterflies in their journals would I have come to appreciate the sacrifice and the strength that they possessed? The short answer is no. So, I'm committed to recording the good, the bad, and the ugly of my life. One sentence needs to be addressed to my dear sweet daughter who I hope when she reads this post in the future will have enough wisdom to know that I couldn't love her more if I tried and that raising her has been a joy.

Ok, so I got all the PR out of the way now I can get back to my pity party. People always tell me, "Oh, I always wished I had chubby babies." Only someone who hasn't had a truly chubby baby would wish for one. There is chubby and then there is Claire and her brothers before her. The child is 9 months old and she weighs 25 pounds. The average for a child her age is 14 1/2 pounds to 17 pounds. I'm not so naive as to think that all children are average, but 8 pounds is a lot. Especially when carrying her feels like carrying a 25 pound water balloon. She is total dead weight that is shifting and flopping and I'm consistently trying not to drop. The only thing worse that having a chubby baby is having a chubby baby that is so attached to you that she wants to be held...a lot...and who cries when others even look at her!

Last night I hit the wall. I didn't just hit it....I slammed into it wearing roller skates and no helmet. Gage has Karate on Wednesdays and by the time I rushed to feed the kids and picked up our neighbors I had had no dinner after a small lunch. Claire cried because my neighbor talked to her and I had just gotten her calmed down when some man asked me if I needed help lifting her stroller up the stairs. I don't know...I guess he might have looked at Claire and that is the end of the world apparently. She insisted on being held the entire lesson. I tried giving her to my friend so I could at least get one picture of Gage at Karate and she let loose with hysterical sobs. By the time I got the kids into the car I just sat there. Feeling like I didn't even have the strength to start the car. I called Tim, on the way home, with the hope that he would be home when I got there but it was not to be. He was still with his mistress, otherwise known as work. I could barely control my tears at the thought of lifting Claire out of the car seat and then up the stairs to her room. (evil split entry) The one bright spot was that Gage and Luke must have seen that I was at the end or they had hit the wall too because both boys got into their pj's and did their bathroom business without me even asking them to. They practically put themselves to bed and it truly was heaven-sent.

After all the kids were in bed I just sat there assessing my body. My arms and legs feel like jelly. My hands feel like I just tried to open a big pickle jar that won't budge. My pelvis feels like it did when I was 9 months pregnant. My head ached from gritting my teeth to lift Claire. I didn't even have the energy to cry until Tim got home after 10 pm and I wanted to talk to him but I can't control my emotions. So I popped some Ibuprofen and went to bed.

You know how after you go on the first hike of the season how you feel wobbly and really tired. It feels good to me because it's the first time I've felt that way all winter and I really enjoyed the hike. I feel like that...only I know that tomorrow and the next day and the next day I'm going to go on the exact same hike and that my body will never feel any stronger for the effort. It is depressing. And then there are all the people who just love chubby babies who really don't understand the physical fatigue of caring for one. Such is the Primary Presidency. I had an early morning meeting this morning that lasted for 2 hours, but that's another story, and they all just love Claire. And the President offered to give Claire some pretzels and I said, "NO, she doesn't need to eat anything else! (jokingly) She needs to go on a diet." They all look at me like the monster I am. They all think I have an eating disorder anyway and they now picture me doing that to Claire. But what they don't realize is that I eat plenty but when you go on a 30 mile hike with a 25 pound water balloon each and every day that you tend to be quite thin.

I just finished Jane Austen's Persuasion, have you read it? It's a good one. Anyway, the main character is Anne Elliott. And she is 28 and when she sees her previous lover, Captain Wentworth, who she turned down 8 years previously, he says, "She was so altered that I shouldn't have known her." Austen calls it, "loosing your bloom." I look in the mirror and my bloom is gone. Once it is plucked I don't think you get it back. So on that depressing thought. I'm done. I don't know how this post was for you, but I feel better.

Surprise You're A Mommy

I was at my cousin's baby shower last week and the entire time I was watching her open her gifts I thought, "What a sucker. She has no idea what she is in for." I remember my baby shower for Gage and how it was so exciting and how I had no idea what it really meant to be a mother. I was like a lamb going to the slaughter. I pictured motherhood at that time like this: I would be kind and patient always and my kids would be grateful and I would enjoy reading to them and playing with them for hours on end and at the end of each day we would hold hands around the dinner table and sing Kum-ba-yah. I wasn't prepared for a lot of the realities. By this point I feel really professional on the infant through toddler stage, but since Gage has gone to public school it is a whole new world of moments where I think, "I didn't know mommyhood was going to be like that." So this post is dedicated to all the surprises of motherhood:

Before I Was A Mother I Didn't Know:

*That every bodily fluid would at some point be on my shirt, down my shirt, in my hair, or on my person.

*That I would cry a lot easier.

*That I could forget just about anything.

*That other people don't discipline their kids like I do and that that sometimes means your kid will get picked on while their mother watches unaware.

*That all the things I said I would never allow my kids to do they have probably done.

*That you have teach your kids how to sleep.

*That I will never sleep through a whole night again.

*That other moms will look you up and down to see if there is evidence of you carrying a baby in the recent past. And that they freely make comments on your body.

*That moms compete with you about how your kids look, how smart they are, how talented...etc. (personal pet peeve)

*That your kids will pay the price for mommy politics.

*That I am totally unqualified for mommy politics and that I can't stand them. From now on I'm mommy Switzerland.

*That little milestones could brighten my whole day.

*That the sight of little pudgy hands and wrists are perhaps the cutest things ever.

*That the sight of my kids blood makes me feel like I'm going to throw-up.

*That little boys smell. Period.

*That little boys think saying poop and pee is very funny.

*That I would feel so much guilt for my mistakes.

*That I would make so many mistakes. I was sure my mom knew what she was doing.

*That I would have to push my kids to be the best they can be.

*That Murphy's law states that food will fall every where except where the bib is covering.

*That changing a diaper isn't that bad.

*That I will never be able to ride a bicycle again. Ever. Well maybe if it has a really padded seat

*That my mom wasn't kidding when she said that when she jumped on our tramp she felt like she was going to pee her pants.

*That spending an hour cooking a great meal doesn't mean the kids will like it or eat it.

*That I would cheer and applaud for everyday tasks. You got your shoes on? Great!!!!!

*That I would be able to read my kids thoughts just by looking at their faces.

*That getting a snuggle could make me so happy.

*That three kids can make so much noise.

*That I would worry so much about my kids fitting in and making friends.

*That when my kids wake up in the morning or from a nap is when they look their cutest.

*That I could love another person so totally.

Ok, this is just some of them. What are yours?

It Really Stinks Being The First Born

I firmly believe in the birth order theories. And, I firmly believe that Gage will seek therapy at some point in this life to undo all my wrongs. I'm such a greenie when it comes to Gage! Everything is new with him. I'm sorry buddy!

I worry and nag about the dumbest things. I know they are dumb. I know I nag. Yet, I keep doing them. For instance, when Gage started Kindergarten he was reading at the level they expect them to be at the end of the year. With all the kids in his class that didn't even recognize the letter A, I had convinced myself that his teacher would just neglect Gage and that he wouldn't progress at all in his reading. So I nagged. We read and read and I thought he was making no progress. This thought is the same as not realizing your kid has grown 5 inches, because you see them everyday, until someone who hasn't seen them in a year clues you in.

Parent-Teacher Conferences were last week and I was all jazzed up to tell his teacher that she wasn't helping him progress in his reading when she bursts out the chart that shows that Gage is reading at above a 1st grade level. How could I have missed that? When I look back on it I realize how much easier reading is for him and that I've gotten harder books from the library to read but like some idiot I think he hasn't progressed?

I was so proud of him and upon seeing a father, leaving the school, who was soundly reprimanding his 3rd grader for not doing better work; I commanded the scene to memory and thought how I hope I always dwell on what my kids do well and never ever publicly reprimand them....even if they deserve it. I may nag. I may worry. But I hope I never cross that line.

No Longer A Blob

Claire is no longer a blob unless of course you mean the blob of fat on the back of her foot. She's really turned the corner into a thinking, moving, feeling human being. I know I've done this two other times but for some reason it just really amazes me with her. Maybe because I feel like I'm a pro now with the whole mom thing that I've had time to sit back and watch the human experiment that is raising children.

Claire seems to change from day to day. I don't remember the boys changing so rapidly all at once. She is such a little talker and it makes me laugh. She says Mom and Dad. Once my kids start saying that, it always marks a turning point were I feel like my kids love me back. Is that weird? I love watching her look outside because I think I can actually see the wheels turning in her head. I think she is going to be a smarty. On Friday she started pulling my hair and the look on her face said, "I know what I'm doing and that you don't like it." I told her "no" somewhat sternly and that really brought her up short and again I could see she was thinking about it. She tried a few more times to pull my hair....harder this time...and I said no and she stopped. At church she started pulling again and I said, "No" and she laughed out loud and I'll be if she didn't say "no" herself! Her little voice is so delightful to me and I can't help but look at her in wonder that not 9 months ago she was a helpless blob and now she grasping language! Amazing. Her two top teeth broke through this week and nothing is cuter than those four little teeth when she smiles.

I always worry that my kids are so behind in crawling and rolling over and walking. Claire is no different. She forgot how to roll from her stomach to her back and has never rolled from her back to her stomach. Today though she was very close on both and she has leaned forward a few times and I've thought she was going to get on all fours but alas the heavy head wins every time and she face planted. She tried to pull herself up today on one of those toy table thingys and it just wasn't designed to support her girth and she face planted. She loves to stand and she was standing against our arm chair playing and I was sitting behind her and she turned suddenly and this time it was me who was not ready for her girth and you guessed it....she face planted and this time there was blood....all over me, all over her. I thought her nose was broken but it didn't even bruise. I think I need to invent some kind of device that would lighten the load of her head.

Threats...Sometimes They Work

As I have lamented many a time on this blog, nothing healthful passes Luke's lips in any given day. Unless you count the tomatoes in pizza sauce...which I don't. I really stress about him eating well and I'm sure he loves to control me by not doing what I want so badly. Little rascal. The score on the number of food battles I have won has stood like this,


Luke: 1 trillion

Mom: zip...nada...goose egg....zero.


Until this week. Now it stands,


Luke: 1 trillion

Mom: 3


On Thursday Luke wouldn't eat his Mac n' Cheese. It really gets under my skin. I was in a good mood, I know shocker, so I jokingly said, "You can either eat that mac' n cheese or you can eat this slop." I was feeding Claire at the time and how else could you describe baby food than slop! Luke took me seriously and he vigorously ate his entire bowl of mac n'cheese. I thought I must be onto something, so at dinner I cut one slice of an apple and peeled it and put it onto his plate.

We were like two desperado's meeting in a duel...all that was missing was the passing of a tumbleweed, some swanky music, and the call of some distant bird. I made my threat. This time Claire was eating Peas. "Luke you can chose to either eat that apple or this green slop." I could see he was thinking about calling my bluff, but when I got close to his mouth with the spoon of peas he picked up the apple and licked it. Then he nibbled it. Then he ate it! It is a small victory but I was so ecstatic you'd have thought I'd just won the lottery. That's when I realized in motherhood it's the little victories that count. The threat has worked two other times....this time on broccoli....which he actually asked for more of.