Susanna's Milestone

Spunky Susanna riding a pony at the Kansas State Fair.

Little Miss Susanna is 17 months old and hit a milestone that is too funny to forget.

Tonight we were in the middle of our family worship when she asked, "Cup. Cup. Cup."

I told her, "You want a cup. Let's sing first and then we'll get a cup."

She looked me in the eye and said, "Noooooo." It wasn't rude, simply factual. It seemed like she was saying, "No. You get me a cup now."

Sigh. My dad has been telling me for over a year that Susanna is going to be a handful. Once I asked him when I should start worrying and he said, "Now! Start right now!"

Oh, Little Miss. You are such a spunky, sweet little girl. You are so full of love and we enjoy your hugs and kisses every day and - I'll speak for myself here - I enjoy your sassy take-no-prisoners attitude. You are a beautiful little blessing of a daughter and I'm glad you're mine.

Happy Birthday

Tomorrow is the day anniversary of the day we were given the biggest decision of our lives. After four days of mixed message from doctors and nurses at St. Luke's, we were told that my mom's stroke was serious. It happened right in the smack middle of her brain leaving her paralyzed, unable to speak, unable to even stop her saliva from going into her lungs.

Her doctor called a family meeting and at 2:00 on July 14, 2011 she told us that she believed my mom would never regain any function. With time and physical therapy she would be able to blink once for yes and twice for no. The doctor thought she was "locked in" - intellectually in-tack, simply unable to move or speak. She said, "You don't have to make the decision now, but withdrawing support is an option."

We asked a few questions, and in less than 15 had a unanimous decision. We all knew that my vibrant mother would never want to lived "locked in". We all knew that given the choice, she'd choose to see Jesus. We decided that Dad would tell her and that we'd make the change the next morning.

I wonder what Dad said to her. He told me that he wanted her to have one more sunrise. I wonder how sunrises look in heaven. The nurses said they would skip some of their overnight vital checks so she could have a good night's sleep. I wonder how well anyone could sleep knowing they were going to die tomorrow.

I've only seen three people actually dying. One looked excited, like she couldn't wait to go. One looked scared. She seemed lost somewhere between this world and the next. My mom looked peaceful. Honestly, she looked like the dogs and cats at the clinic. She looked like she knew where she was going, that it was going to hurt, but she would dig in and do it.

Thirty years ago, she was sort of in the same situation. She was in labor with me. Because my parents didn't have health insurance, my mom opted for a home birth. When I was facing labor with Ben, she told me, "You just have dig down and do it." I have never been nearly as tough as my mom.

At her visitation, a couple came up to me and told me their version of my birthday. They said they were signed up to bring a meal that evening and when they knocked my mom answered to door - she was wearing white shorts and bubbly. They were surprised to see her up and about, but she said, "Come on in. Jack and Jackie are sleeping - they're exhausted, but I just got done cleaning the house."

I believe that my birthday was one of the best days of my mom's life. She told me she wanted me. She told me the first time she felt me move was on Valentine's Day. She was laying on her bed reading and felt my first flutters and thought it was such a sweet Valentine. Every single day of my life, I felt my mom's unconditional love.

I also believe that the day my mom went home to Jesus, was unequivocally very best day of her life.

On that Friday morning, I sang camp songs to my mom. She looked like she was sleeping, but as I finished the last verse of For Those Tears I Died, I started crying and so did Mom.

You said you'd come and share all my sorrows 
You said you'd be there for all my tomorrows 
I came so close to sending you away 
But just like you promised, you came here to stay 
I just had to pray 



Chorus And Jesus said, "Come to the water, stand by my side
I know you are thirsty, you won't be denied 
I felt every tear drop, when in darkness you cried 
And I strove to remind you, It's for those tears I died" 


Your goodness so great, I can't understand it 
And dear Lord I know now that all this was planned 
I know You're here now and always will be 
Your love loosened my chains, and in You I'm free But Jesus why me? 


Chorus 


Jesus I give You, my heart and my soul 
I know now without God, I'll never be whole 
Savior, You opened all the right doors 
And I thank You and praise You from earth's humble shores Take me I'm Yours! 

Somewhere around 9:30, we stepped out of her and they unhooked all the machines. With all the tubes gone, Mom's lips were cracked and bleeding. Her face was bruised and swollen. My dad told her she was beautiful. 

We listened to Michael Card (one of her favorite artists), held her hands, prayed and gave her our blessing. The day was long, but Mom worked diligently. Around 5:00, my dad and brother took Mom's hands and began to pray. I started singing God Be With Till We Meet Again and Mom took her last breath.

A dear friend told me that my mom and I sort of share a birthday, only her's is an eternal birthday. I guess that seems true and sweet for someone I love so much. So Mom, I wish you a very happy eternal birthday. I love you dearly. Till we meet again.

An Anniversary...

Tomorrow is the anniversary of my mom’s stroke and as this day has been approaching, I’ve been reliving last year’s events. My heart has been anxious and honestly, I’ve been dreading this time.

It sort of feels like you’re watching a movie you’ve seen a dozens times before and you know that it’s sad. You know you’ll cry, but you keep watching. I wake up early and run this movie in my mind over and over again.

On July 9th last year, I drove Ben and Susanna to a splash park on the west side of Independence and talked with my mom on the way. She was cleaning her back porch and she was talking about how much she loved her family. We said goodbye and I love you and I headed to the fountains.

An hour and half later my dad called me and said, “You’re mom had a stroke. We think she’s ok.  She’s in an ambulance on its way to Centerpoint.”

I was frantic, it took me twice as long to pack up my kids as it usually does and Danielle offered to keep Ben. I took Susanna to the hospital and found a welcoming committee including my long-lost Uncle Chris, and many of Mom’s friends from church.

We went back two at a time and I watched mom “recover”. She went from out-of-it and slurring her words to her normal self.

They said she might have had heat stroke, or a TSA and they’d keep her overnight. She was moved to room and talking with a doctor before I left for the evening. She seemed fine. She was holding a pink teddy bear and even made a joke that the bear had a bad leg and needed treatment too.

When I came back that night, she was writhing, moaning and had totally lost control of her body. Her right side would go limp and her left side jerk. She’d say, “My tongue feels funny.” And “I’m having a stroke.”

We watched her writhe for five hours before they finally gave her morphine. We asked for blood thinners and they said no it might cause more problems.

The next morning, a Sunday, I took Susanna back to the hospital and was coming in when they were wheeling Mom out for another MRI. I picked up my mom’s Book of Mormon and opened it to page 450, thinking I’d read to Susanna. This is what I read:

The soul shall be restored to the body, and the body to the soul; yea,
and every limb and joint shall be restored to its body; yea, even a
hair of the had shall not be lost, but all things shall be restored to
their proper and perfect frame. Alma 19:58

At that moment, I knew that God would totally and completely heal my mom… on His side of the veil. At the time, I honestly thought she would not walk again or would lose control of some of her speech, I had no idea that I would lose all of her.

I asked her doctor to look at her again while she having an “episode”. He said that she was just having an anxiety attack and ordered a psychiatrist for Monday morning. Looking back, that was a total waste because by 7:00 pm that night, my mom would never speak again.

The day progressed and they continued to not treat her. She basically had a fatal stroke in a hospital as an entire staff, her family and friends watched. I feel like I let my mom down so badly. When the
doctor said not to give blood thinners because it could cause other problems, my mind was screaming, “No! She needs this.” When the doctor said she was having an anxiety attack, I knew that wasn’t true.

But at the same time, I honestly feel like this was God’s will for her life. Every single person who is born will someday drink from that bitter cup and I truly believe my mom’s earthly work was complete and it was time for her to graduate.



And as it is appointed unto men once to die… Hebrews 9:27

This is harder than I thought it would be. I don’t think I can write everything all at once. There were seven days between when my mom first had her stroke and when she passed away. In the scriptures, seven means completion.

Hmmm.... What to Wear?

Today is a red-letter day for Susanna. She picked out her clothes for the first time. Whoo hoo!

I pulled a pair of purple shorts out of her drawer and she grabbed them out of my hand and threw them back. Then she dive-bombed for a white tank with fruit artwork.

I asked her, "Do you want to wear this today?" And she clutched the tank grinning. I took that as a yes and off we went.

Great choice Susanna. You are adorable. 

I'm equal parts proud and scared. I love how confident she is and how much she knows her own mind. She never second guesses a decision and it's fun to be around a person like that.

However, she never second guesses a decision, even if Mommy says no. I know it's just a matter of time before we have some true battles of will. I just hope I'm tougher than she is. Sometimes I'm not sure.

Happy Mother's Day

This was my first Mother's Day without my mom. I found myself thinking about her all day.

I bought my mom a Mother's Day card when I picked one up for Barbra and Wilma, Chuck's mom and grandma. Then I sat down and wrote her a letter. I have resisted "writing" to my mom so far. Even though there are things I want to say, actually writing seems pointless.

But on Sunday, I poured my heart out and it felt healing. I asked her forgiveness. I told her how much Susanna reminds me of her (I wish so badly they could be together - I know they would be best friends). I told her how much we all still miss her. Finally, I asked her to pray for us.

Then I asked my family to visit her grave on Mother's Day and they lovingly agreed. I'm drawn to her grave and sometimes take the kids. They recognize it and make themselves at home running/crawling around, but it never feels like home to me. I'm looking for my mom and it just doesn't feel like she's there. Still it's nice to have a place to look.

Ben and Susanna visiting Grammy's grave.

Even though it feels as though she left 30 years too soon, I'm so thankful for the 30 years I had with my mom. I'm so thankful for her love, guidance, generosity and instruction. I'm thankful for the fun and friendship we shared. Her faith and vibrant testimony still seems to be shining, and I'm mostly thankful for that.

Mama, I love you. I miss you. "Till we meet again... at Jesus' feet."

Proverbs 31:10 & 28-31
10) Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. 
28) Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. 
29) Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all. 
30) Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain; but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.
31) Give her the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.  

It's Only 10:00 am

This morning I cleaned human poop out of my kitchen pantry and that's not even the worst part of the day.

We are working really hard at finally getting Benny potty trained. It still seems like failure most of the time. I really think he would do fine if his mother was more competent. I get busy and forget or I miss signs until it's too late and we have accident after accident.

This morning after breakfast, I let him play for a mere three minutes and then had him sit on the potty. He said he didn't want to try and wiggled off. So I set the oven timer for 5 minutes, which turned out to be one minute too long.

He was running around, peering in the pantry - I'm not sure why because as I said before, we just finished breakfast - when he yelled, "Bean go pee pee!"

"Ok, hold still, I'll come clean you up. Oh, you pooped too. That's ok, we'll try again."

Ben is upset. He's flailing and crying so I'm trying to be loving, encouraging, what the books say you're supposed to do. But like I said, he's very upset. So as I slide his Buzz Lightyear undies down his legs, he begins scissor kicking wildly flinging poop into my kitchen pantry. The you-know-what literally hit a fan.

Grrr! You essentially threw poop on our food. Thankfully it was just a box of Corn Chex that nobody likes and Brandy's dog food tin, but for crying out loud. Get a hold of yourself and do not fling poo. Never. Ever. Under any circumstance will it ever be ok to throw poop. And especially not where we keep our food!

Why is this so hard? Is it this hard for everyone? I feel like I either want to cover most of my house in tarps or keep Ben outside. I truly wish my mom was here, she could potty train a puppy in under a week. She would have had this all wrapped up by now.

As everything is cleaned up and I'm calming down, I make my signature mistake and say, "That is seriously nasty. I can't imagine anything more disgusting than poop in your pantry."

In literature this is called foreshadowing - the author gives hints about what's to come. I'm not sure why I compulsively doom my life with this little trick, but I always do.

I take the kids downstairs to play outside and find something even more horrendous - the small and large intestines of what I guess is a bunny. My only clue is the large patches of fur blowing in the breeze. Gary, the ruthless assassin, has stuck again... and now he's eating his prey.

Ben opens the door for Brandy and she starts sniffing it. We have to dispose of this quickly!

Chuck offers to help and gives me my choice of holding the bag or welding the pooper scooper. I choose the bag. As he picks it up, he says, "Ugh, it's heavy!" I lose it and start heaving. Chuck starts yelling, "Close your eyes! Close 'em now! You know that if you throw up, I'll throw up! Close your eyes!"

As I avert my eyes, I get a glimpse of my watch and realize that it's not even 10:00 am. Sigh. I don't want to live in my house anymore. Someone, please take me away from here with the all the poop and dead bodies.

Confession

I know I'm not supposed to say this - actually I'm pretty sure I'm not even supposed to think it - but I here we go.

I hate recycling. I mean I really really hate it. It is my most aggravating chore and I change at least three poopy diapers a day.

I know. It's un-American. It's selfish. But it's also really annoying.

First off, you have to wash your trash. It already feels like I spend half of my waking hours washing dishes (and trash). It would be so much easier to turn 45 degrees and simply throw the trash away. After all, it is trash. But no, you have to wash the trash, walk it to the garage and sort it further.

Second, we have to dispose of it ourselves. I know what you're thinking, "Just pay the extra $7.00/month and let the trash company pick it up. No wonder you hate recycling, Cheapskate."

But it's not that simple for us. Our trash company (mandated by our home owner's association) does not offer recycling services. We could use another company for $11.00/month, but they only take plastics 1 and 2.

Only 1 and 2? Are you kidding!? That excludes our newspaper sleeves, shopping bags, PediaSure and baby food containers. After a month of sorting the plastics - in addition to sorting recycling in general - I gave up. Despite my best efforts, there were always PPVs in with the 1s and 2s.

Which brings me to my next point, it's annoying to sort your trash. I don't sort my laundry this well and I'm going to keep and wear these clothes again. This is garbage, it seriously should not be so complicated.

But the straw that breaks the camel's back is the actual disposing of the recycling. We have to load mounds and mounds of trash into my vehicle (Chuck won't use his) and drive it to not one, but two different drop-off spots. We take most of it to a school that supposedly gets money for the recycling they bring in and we take the glass, steal cans, and batteries to an actual recycling center. (You might note that the hours are also extra lame - Sundays until 4:00 pm and Mondays till 6:00. Really?)

Because I'm short on time and cheap when it comes to gas, I load up the van with the intent of dropping it off on my way to another errand. But someone always poops their pants right when it's time to leave and I end up saying, "I'll just drop it off on my way home."

Which never ever happens because one of my two children is bawling on the way home. So I say, "I'll do it tomorrow when I go into work."

And that never happens because at that point, it's been about 30 hours since I loaded the car and I've totally forgotten there's three cubic feet of garbage in the back of my vehicle. Until I open the hatch and realize despite all my washing, trash is still trash and a little on the smelly side and now I'm officially driving a "Trash Van".

Recycling both runs and ruins my life. Sometimes I actually don't buy something because I don't want to deal with disposing of it or the bag it comes in.

The only thing worse than recycling is the bone-crushing guilt of not recycling. You win Recycling. I'll keep washing and driving most of my garbage around town. You win.

11 Months... Already

Today Susanna is 11 months old and I truly don't know where the time went. So, here's an update on her little life.

Little Miss is beginning to add words to her vocabulary and loves to test them out on her world. So far she says:

1. Dada (This was her first word. I guess technically she said, "Hi Dada." I think she thought the phrase was Chuck's name.)
2. Hi. (She says "Hi" or "Hey" depending on what someone has said to her.)
3. Mama (This was her third word and she only uses it when she's angry. As in, "Mama! Get me out of this car seat!")
4. Ga (She clearly means Gary as she crawls after him pointing and hollering. However, this is a broad term she uses for Brandy and pretty much all dogs and cats.)
5. At (I'm almost positive this is, "Cat.")
6. Amen (She actually said, "A-ma" but said it at the end of a prayer and it seemed so intentional, Ben was in stitches.)
7. Yeah (I really think she says, "Yes" sometimes.)

And that is a good thing because she also likes to shake her head "No". At first I thought she was just mimicking me, but then she threw a green bean off her highchair, looked me in the eye and shook her head no without any prompting. Someday, I think this baby is going to give me a run for my money.

Currently, she's keeping me on my toes because she's on a suicide mission with the nasty/dangerous things she puts in her mouth. Here's the short list:

1. Dirt
2. Grass seed
3. Dandelions (like a dozen)
4. A live worm
5. A dead worm (She was extra angry when I took this one away.)
6. Landscaping stones of all sizes
7. Jagged concrete chunks
8. Leaves
9. Sidewalk chalk
10. Dog food
11. Tissue paper (Trying on shoes at Dick's Sporting Goods)
12. A band aid (Also from the floor at Dick's - Ew!)
13. Approximately $2.53 in change (This is cumulative)
14. Aluminum foil
15. Pretty much anything else that will fit.

I remember my mom telling me that she had to call Poison Control four times before Joseph was three years old. She said she was sure they were going to take him away from her. I haven't called Poison Control yet, but I did go ahead and save the number in my phone.

I love you, Miss Ba-Nan!

Dandelion Face

Name 10...

Chuck was out playing church-league softball during dinner so he had to fend for himself when he got home. He was hungry and fussy so he when he found an empty butter box in the fridge, he lost it.

Chuck: I need marg-a-rine! (He seriously pronounces margarine like that.) Who put an empty marg-a-rine box back in the fridge?! I know you did it. (I, of course, deny it.) Oh, so Susanna did it?

Jackie: We have more butter, I'll get it for you. And by the way, we don't eat fake fats like marg-a-rine in this house.

Chuck: We don't eat enough lard in this house. (Seems like a pretty big jump, but I guess lard is a real fat that I don't ever purchase.)

Jackie: If you can name 10 foods you'd use lard in, I'll buy it.

Chuck: Icing.

Jackie: One.

Chuck: Frying.

Jackie: Two

Chuck: Frying burritos. Fried chimichangas. French fried fries.

Jackie: You're still at two. You can't just name fried foods that you like.

Chuck: Fried chicken. Fried chicken patties. Fried chicken nuggets. Fried chicken tenders. Fried chicken tenderloin. What am I up to now?

Jackie: Two.

Don't tell him, but if I counted his way, he'd only need one more.

Chuck only likes "Man-food". His perfect meal would
be steak with a side of bacon.

Proud to be an American

Today we're meeting Nanny Barbra at Coco Key and Benny was so excited he picked out his own clothes to get things moving. We think he really hit the nail on the head.

Excited!

Even though this doesn't technically "match", I'm going to let him wear it. Now everybody knows that he loves both America and Missouri - or at least the state fair. Way to go Benny!

I always enjoy letting Ben come up with his own outfits, not because I think it builds self-esteem or whatever else psychologists might say but can't prove - but because I think it's funny. I like to laugh at him.

Last summer, he picked out this "Going-to-Branson" outfit.

Sorry this is sideways - I was having technical
difficulties last summer :(

I think he just put on all this favorite things. Benny, I love your bright mind and enthusiasm. I love you!

Bracketology

I filled my bracket out this morning in about 12 minutes - it would have been 10, but I had to take Ben to the bathroom. Here it is!

Chuck took one look at it and said, "This is pretty funny."

Just in case anyone would like a glimpse into my thinking, here are the methods I used:

1. Evaluating ranking and regular-season scores.
2. Guessing.
3. Shout-outs to friends. Creighton is for you Christi.
4. Imagining what would be awesome. I'm really not that big of a MU fan, but this year the competition is fierce so... Let's go Missouri!

I only hope that my record is better than Chuck's.

First Soccer Practice

Even though it was a mild winter, it still seems like we've been waiting for spring forever! That's partly because three-year-olds have no concept of time.

We went to the very last Royals home game of the season last year - September 21st - and Ben has asked, "Yet go Ro-Ro game one more time," almost every single day since.

• He wrote a song. "One, two, bee. One, two, bee. Yet go Ro-Ro game."
• He asks if "Ro-Ro Stadium" is open every Wednesday when we pass it on our way to NAET treatments.
• He was briefly deterred by Christmas, but then my dad bought partial season tickets and rekindled both Chuck and Ben's excitement.
• Then Chuck told him spring training started. Sigh.

We decided to venture into league athletics, and basically started the same process with soccer.

• We decided to sign up with friends. "Where we going, Mama? Play soccer Ryder Weston?"
• We saw cousin Chaise play at the Independence Events Center. "Bean play?"
• I forgot to mail our check in, so Ben and I dropped it off the very last day. "Bean play soccer?"
• We went to buy cleats, shin guards and socks. "Bean play soccer?"

Today was FINALLY the day. He got up from his nap and got ready for soccey game!

The Cheetahs. Roar!

 

Ben waiting his turn.

 

Goal!

 

This is how Susanna spent the evening.

 

Ben sad his soccer practice is over.

 

In fact, he was so sad, he's currently sleeping with his new soccer ball. Here's to a fun season! Let's go Cheetahs!

 

 

The Beginning of the End

Today I took Ben to a preschool screening and found out that he qualifies for speech therapy. I can't say that I'm surprised. Yesterday a two-year-old told Ben, "It's not a taw-wee; it's a tower." But I am a little disappointed.

I'm not upset that my son needs extra help and I don't feel like we have a negative label, but I like his funny little words and I'm not ready to let go of them. (I know, this is super-selfish.) But once they're gone, they're gone forever and that makes me sad.

Even without speech therapy, I've known this day was coming. Lately, Ben's been calling himself "Bun." I laughed at first, mostly because he yelled it when he was crying, "Waaahhh! Bun!!"

 

Secondly, what's up with the food theme?

1. Bun
2. Bean
3. Beany Coco Chicky Nono

At first I thought Ben simply couldn't pronounce his name and that he's lucky his name isn't "Gabriel" or "Alexander." But it turns out that "Bun" is just a stepping stone to actually saying "Ben". Shortly after "Bun" showed up, he started saying "Ben" once or twice a day and I know it's just a matter of time before the "Bens" outnumber the "Beans". Then one day he'll just stop saying it altogether.

I won't even get a heads up to treasure the last time I hear his little voice call himself "Bean". We'll just realize that he hasn't said it in a couple of days, then it'll set in that he's growing up and out of that phase and I'll probably have an irrational meltdown.

I know I'm being silly, but I love his voice and language. It's a funny mix because he's so sure of himself and speaks with such conviction, but he's usually talking crazy.

Here are some "Bean" Examples:

1. Bean do it. (I hear this 50 times a day regarding anything from making coffee to putting on his shoes.)
2. Bean do it all Bean-self. (You get this little gem if you insist on doing something he said he wants to do.)
3. Bean need my work. (Work is pronounced "whork" and it's a little spiral-bound book in which he makes tiny squiggles with a Mickey Mouse pen.)
4. No kiss Bean! (I should know better at this point, but I don't.)
5. Bany (Brandy) licking Bean chair! (Well, you're the one who let's 30 percent of the food that touches your lips fall to the floor.)
6. Watch this Mama, 'Beany Coco Chicky Nono.' (Did you give yourself a nickname? Yeah. It's kind-of long, but I like it.)
7. Change Bean diapy. (We just sat on the potty!)
8. Bean all done. (Wait Benny. Please just try to go pee pee. I know you can do it. No! Bean all done!!)
9. Bean! (Usually used when he's picked up against his will.)
10. Watch this Mama, Bean touching my pee pee. (Uh... ok.)

"Mama, you need come in my op-ip."

 Beany Coco Chicky Nono, please don't grow up too quickly.

Merbaby

Many mornings when I retrieve Susanna from her crib, I find this:

A baby mermaid!

I'm not sure how she's actually able to accomplish wedging both of her legs into one jammie leg, but she's fairly consistent. She does it so often, I started calling her Merbaby.

Ben tried to get in on the new nickname too, "Yook Mama, Baby Doodana Mer... Mer... Mer... (sigh). Yook Mama, Baby Doodana Mer..." (It's like listening to a CD skip and it can last for a solid minute.)

The more I called her Merbaby, the more she reminded me of a fish. And not a cute little baby mermaid, more like a catfish.

Exhibit A: Bathtub Kicks. Ironically, while in the bath, she looks like a fish out of water. Kicking and flopping like a catfish on a dock. Every time you lay her back to rinse her hair, she seems genuinely confused by what's happening and responds by failing. She does a barrel roll if you try to wash any part of her face, breaths in a bunch of bath water and gasps for air. Seriously, just like a fish on a hook.

Exhibit B: No-look Bites. Susanna will eat anything. (She literally pooped wrapping paper the day after Christmas.) At the table, she pops her little mouth open and waits for someone to spoon something into it. It doesn't matter what that something is, just spoon it in.

It sort of reminds me of feeding Carp, which, if you've never done, you should try.

Those Carp are tearing that popcorn up and even though Susanna only has two bottom teeth, I bet she could demolish some popcorn.

Bean-isms

Note: I found this draft saved April 11, 2011. I was probably looking for a picture before posting, but then I got busy having Susanna and whatnot. I'm feeling nostalgic and want to post it today.

Ben is finding his voice and really saying some funny things these days. Here are some examples:

1. I'm trying to get him to say, "Benjamin". He likes to say, "Bean Bean Bean."

2. "Cue me". I have not been working with him on saying "excuse me" so it came as a shock when he said it to Gary. He says it to the pets, toys, other kids, and anyone standing between him and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. This phrase is also accompanied by him waving his little arm in a get-out-of-my-way-or-else fashion.

3. "Mmm. Bean eat Bean." Although, this sounds cannibalistic, he really means, "Yum! I can't wait to eat these refried beans!"

4. "Bean cook money." I had to teach Ben how to push his old highchair over to the sink to wash his hands because I couldn't pick him up anymore. This was both the best and worst thing I've ever done. On one hand, it's nice not picking him up, but on the other hand Ben uses his new skill often. One day, I turned around to find Ben at the stove stirring 87 cents in a pot. "Mmm, Bean cook money."

No, don't cook money. Please, go play with your toys.

5. Open It: This is my very favorite. We started talking to Ben about the baby in Mama's tummy and about what's going to happen when she's born. He knows where she'll sleep, which clothes are  hers, that she'll ride in a car seat. Often when we're talking about the baby, he pats my belly and says, "Open it." If it were only that easy. Sigh.

When I told him the baby wasn't ready to be born yet, he started saying, "No baby, no weady yet?" He checks in every few days to see if the baby is "ready yet".

I hope he likes being a big brother and I hope he loves his little sister. And I can't wait to see what he has to say when she gets here.

Susanna Update

Susanna is almost nine months old and a little spit-fire these days.

Susanna and Chuck at Animal Kingdom.

She's crawling, pulling up and even cruising a little. She's not super fast at crawling yet, but she's determined and moves with purpose. She seems to think huffing and puffing like a scary stalker helps.

She has two bottom teeth and likes to use them on carrots and avocado.

She's also babbling a whole lot these days. She says: mama, dada, baba and once looked me in the eye and said, "Mom." It almost sounded like she was annoyed with me and I'm a little scared of what the future holds.

Her hair is losing some of it's baby softness and that makes me sad. It's getting thicker and starting to feel like hair. And even though she's still a long way from a first haircut, here's a little gem I found on my mom's computer.

Ben looking cross-eyed and crazy for his very first hair cut :)

Just like her namesake, she loves animals and squeals with delight when she sees Gary or Brandy. She crawls over to Gary and pounds him in jubilation, her sticky little fists collecting clumps of cat fur. Then she freezes, concentrates, sticks out one tiny forefinger and thumb and waits...  What's she doing? It looks like she's planning something, but you can't tell what she's looking at.

With lightning speed, she strikes like a snake. She's got one white whisker in her little pinchers and she's pulling it as fast as she can to her mouth.

Ha! Gary's met his little orange match. I'm embarrassed to say, but Gary makes me so crazy that I usually just let her abuse him.

In any case, Susanna is sweet and sassy and sure making us happy. Little Miss, your daddy says that you're as funny as you are pretty. We love you, Sugar!

Surviving the rain at Epcot January 2012

Ben and Susanna at Micah and Brittany's
wedding Jan. 7, 2012. That's Sprite in
Ben's cup.

Banana hates her car seat so much that when
she finally falls asleep she's literally
hanging on for dear life.