Wheels and Time

As always, Joseph has found new ways to entertain us, and also teach us about our parenting. I offer four illustrations of this entertainment and enlightenment.

I. Wheels. There was a time when we heard talk of a certain nursery age child who spent most of nursery running a little red car back and forth. We thought it was hilarious.

And then our son became that child, and it became even more hilarious. I don't know that he's necessarily like that for nursery, but if we're ever in the church gym that is pretty much the only thing he does. Today I was at the church gym exercising, and each time I was trying to do a squat, there was Joseph, ready to run a red car through the tunnel I had created. Actually, he got a couple of kids to copy him, creating a brigade running beneath my legs. I felt pretty proud of myself.

But of course his obsession with wheels extends far beyond the walls of our holy edifice. Somehow, a little blue car made its way to our corner of the complex, and there it has remained. Joseph dubbed it his motorcycle, and for a few weeks he could spend a solid hour at a time just going around and around our little courtyard. At first I was annoyed with it because it made it impossible to really go anywhere without him insisting on riding his motorcycle. We didn't make it to the other side of the neighborhood for that whole duration.

But then I realized that I could finally achieve my dream of being a distracted parent outside, so I would sit on my front step with a book or laptop (still haven't mastered touchscreens enough to even consider a smart device) and gchat with whomever while watching my child go round and round and round. It was glorious.

Here is another child enabling his wheel obsession.

But the good times were not going to last forever. October came, and with it came a Thomas the Tank Engine bike from our neighbors in a purging mood. There is something about that sonorous children's television show that sucks all children into all of its merchandise. That, or maybe it's just that it was another object with wheels.

Either way, the motorcycle has been almost entirely forgotten.

Unlike the carefree motorcycle, this bike requires a lot of undistracted parenting. I have to get his helmet on him. I have to help him move since he can't quite push the pedals hard enough.

And I have to do it just right. None of this pushing the back of the bike with my foot. No, in order for this to be enjoyable, he insists that I have one hand on his back, one hand on the handlebar, and we need to stay at the proper speed, which is always a surprise. (I rarely last long.)

I keep planning to hide that bike. Maybe I should do it right now.

II. Puzzles. Our neighbors also bequeathed us several puzzles as they prepare to move. One of them was sort of sneaky. One day we suddenly found ourselves with a musical puzzle that plays "Old McDonald" as you put the instruments back into their proper spots. Yeah, I should probably hide that one the same place I hide the bike.

But the other recent puzzle they gave us has been pretty much the best thing ever. It's a 12 piece wooden puzzle, which means the pieces stay together once they match, but since it's a real puzzle it's a lot more interesting.

The best part about it though is how much Joseph loves it. He puts it together while giving commentary on all the animals on the farm, then takes it apart and does it again. The other day it was inching closer and closer to his naptime, and he still kept repeating it.

And then he did it lying down with his eyes basically closed.

I hope he loves this puzzle for a long time.

III. Supposed. There are some things that Joseph picks up that I can't quite trace. He's been jumping like a frog, and I'm not sure who taught him that. I'm not sure where he picked up some of his dance moves.

But I'm guessing he picked up "We're not supposed to" from either Kevin or me. Or maybe Daniel Tiger, but that's less likely.

"Joseph, do you want to go play somewhere else?"
"No, we're not supposed to."

"Joseph, do you want to draw?"
"No, we're not supposed to draw."

"You need a diaper change!"
"We're not supposed to change my diaper."

Sometimes, I feel like my hopes and dreams get a little dashed when he tells me this. I wonder if I'm supposed to not say "not supposed to" so much.

IV. Time. We can't really blame this one on anyone but ourselves. You say enough "It's story time!" "It's dinner time!" "It's bath time!" and eventually, your kid is going to rebel.  And he's going to know how to use the language.

"Joseph, it's nap time!"
"It's not nap time. It's donut time!" (He didn't get the donut, but nor did he take the nap.)

"We need to come in and eat dinner!"
"No! It's not time to eat dinner! It's time to ride the bike!!!"

Lately, I've been introduced to lots of different times -- Daniel Tiger time, cracker time, peanut butter swanwich time, shorts time, cake time, and mostly "time to play outside" after the sun has set.

Sometimes, when he's feeling less combative, he likes to respond with "Not right now." And speaking of things he's acquired from our Canadian neighbors, he says "now" in a Canadian accent. Which softens the blow, I'll admit.

Despite our adventures in new power struggles and battles of wills, he certainly keeps us happy, and it's always exciting to see him growing up.

And I really should go hide that bike now.

#ShareGoofiness

I dunno why, but today has been sort of a watch-goofy-YouTube-videos sort of day. For whatever reason, all the videos have been Mormon themed. Probably because General Conference is coming up.

Most of you have probably seen all of these, but if you haven't, they are all pretty great. And definitely worth a rewatch.

and last but not least, we ended Family Home Evening with a brief discussion of Proverbs that just turned into looking at Mormonadz here.

. . .  actually, I think we missed having the lesson altogether. Oops.

Canning

Today is the first official day of autumn, though here in Michigan it feels like autumn began sometime back in April, right after winter ended. Okay, we got a little bit of summer, but it wasn't ever particularly hot. Some days were downright cold.

And it's only going to get colder. Just when we thought that we had conquered the coldest winter since before sliced bread, now we hear that forecasters are predicting that this winter will be another cold one, possibly even colder than last year's.

Regardless of how accurate these predictions are (I refuse to believe them), it's a good idea to ask ourselves the same question the First Presidency Message asks, namely, "Are We Prepared?" Now is as good a time as any to prepare for cold days, snowy roads, and potential power outages by bolstering our food storage and emergency preparedness.

But there's another aspect of winter preparedness that I didn't realize until last year. About the middle of January, I was feeling increasingly isolated thanks to all those days stuck in the house. It was really hard to organize play dates (especially when people were sick), and I fought feelings of loneliness almost all the time. I thought to myself, "I wish I had canned up more socializing along with that applesauce."

And now that we're back to canning season, I'm determined to prepare accordingly. So, here are my suggestions on how to mentally prepare for winter while we still can.

• Start the routines now. Get weekly play dates going, get in the habit of going to play groups, and organize things that make you happy (game nights, etc.). You need to get these going well before December, because Christmas will throw everything off, and it's a lot easier to restart things in January if they already had a few months of precedent.
• Exercise as much as you can. Walk, run, bike, do yoga . . . teach your body to enjoy movement. But even more importantly, learn how to exercise in your house. Find enjoyable ways to get your heart rate up that don't take up much cubic space. I found that a small investment in weights and an aerobic step were huge factors in improving my mood.
• Get out and about now. Go to where the people are, and get to know them. Most wards have areas where people tend to gather. I can promise you, it's worth it to go there to mingle, even if you have to drive. That way, they'll still think to include you once it's cold.
• Find a few people to be gchat buddies. Or texting buddies, if you think your kid might hog the computer watching PBS shows. Either way, having people to spout off to or make fun of the multitudinous typos that occur with gchat makes for much less isolation. Plus, hey, you're keeping a journal now!
• Brainstorm ways to occupy your child's time that don't involve screens. Learn what works and what doesn't now so you'll know what's frustrating and avoid it in the winter. (But don't make your kid bored of it now.)

What are some other ways you've prepared socially and mentally for winter?

Odometer

One spring day when I was about 14, my mom announced, "Okay, everyone, time to get in the car! We're going on a quick drive!"

We piled in and she explained, "We are so close to hitting 200,000 on the van. We'll just drive around until we reach it." And so we did, up and down the streets of Providence, heading through the parts that I didn't even know existed. On our way back from the outskirts near the coyote research farms, my mom shouted, "Come quick everyone! Watch it change!" By the time I had unbuckled my seat belt to peer at the dashboard, it was too late.  But at least I had been there for a momentous occasion in our family.

Not too long after that, I was at the store with my dad talking about it, pointing out how weird it was to go on a drive dictated by the odometer. He smiled and told me that when he and my mom were fairly newly married, the old brown car was also about to reach 200,00 miles. And so they went for a drive until it hit 200,000 miles. And then once they reached 200,000 miles, they kissed.

"That's a dumb reason to kiss," I said.

"It was a great reason to kiss," my dad corrected me.

Today, all our little errands around town finally added up, and after visiting a family in the ward, we were sitting at 49994. (We don't drive much.)

"Kevin! I'm going to a baby shower tonight! You're not going to be with me when the odometer hits 50000! We've got to do it now!"

And so even though we hadn't eaten our own dinner yet, he was a good sport, and we drove around admiring the changing foliage and the changing mileage.

Then, right after the roundabout connecting Earhart and Geddes, the digital display suddenly changed from 49999 to 50000. At the next stoplight, we kissed to commemorate it.

And my dad was right. It was a great reason to kiss.

Party in the Midwestern USA, Part 2

As soon as the Toblers left, one of the blogs I follow published a series of suggestions of things to do in Ann Arbor. Although I feel like we had done a pretty good job of showing them the city (and, as I remind myself, people come to see us, not buildings and trees), I wished that that list had been published before we had visitors.

But, as fate would have it, Kevin reminded me that we were going to have more visitors, that our calendar for months had pronounced that on September 5th "The Clouses come to see the glorious place called Michigan." And so we eagerly awaited the arrival of Ian, Emma, and Abe. I mean, Ruprecht, Steve Martin, and Lyle. (Ian insisted on protecting the innocent with believable nicknames, and these are what he chose.)

On a dark and stormy and lightning-y Friday night, they completed their journey from Indianapolis. The next morning, we treated them to gourmet French crust, a delightful variation on French toast made from the bread crusts Joseph doesn't eat. Um, yes, I just admitted that. It's cheaper to freeze them and save them than use slices of fresh bread! And the same heat which kills the germs in raw eggs also kills the germs from our fingers which tore the crusts off the bread, so it's totally sanitary. Ian declared that they weren't "half bad," so that counts for something.

After a brief foray into 1940s children's literature by Abe and Joseph (see above), we were off to the arboretum! Kevin and I have the uncanny ability of timing most of our visits to the arboretum during 5Ks. Either that or they just always have 5Ks there every day. Luckily, the race was mostly done, and with the French crusts sitting comfortably in our bellies, we weren't tempted by all the snacks waiting for the racers. Instead, we just got to enjoy nature.

Joseph was supposed to be in this picture, but he left.

I think it's time someone wrote a new poem about roads diverging in the wood.

As soon as they weren't hungry and tired and possessive anymore, they became best friends.

Abe will probably be taller than Joseph.

As soon as we had our fill of nature, we walked down to Central Campus again. We were too busy soaking in the atmosphere of education to really snap any pictures (that or too busy chasing and holding little boys). We also stumbled across a few more weddings, though none with Lord of the Rings music this time. Near the end, we realized they might both fit in the stroller, which would save all our aching backs because Abe appreciated the novelty and Joseph appreciated the company.

We then went to Frita Batidos as recommended, and it was great. After swinging down by the stadium via Main Street,

we made sure the Clouses experienced another one of Ann Arbor's specialties: terrible roads. It wasn't necessarily the potholes so much as the storm-induced power outage that turned crowded intersections into even more crowded four-way stops. Eventually, we made it home, and the 11 minute naps in the car were sufficient to re-energize both boys for the rest of the afternoon. So, we went off to the playground and then took the bus to the wave field.

Crouching tiger, hidden Ian. Kevin, Joseph, and Abe had no idea what was awaiting them.

Once we got home, it was time for yet another get-to-know-you activity, this time sponsored by Northwood. The Clouses evaded the "Are you new?" questions by leaving the potluck swiftly, but we got to answer for them once they were gone. Alas, they had to go back to Indianapolis. But they're welcome to come again! As are any other visitors, even if you're not from the Midwest!

Even though this will probably happen once you leave.

Ps: the final count for awkward encounters is:

Number of weddings witnessed: 4

Number of 5Ks: 1

Number of get-to-know-you activities: 3

Party in the Midwestern USA, part 1

The past two weekends have been chock full of nonstop fun thanks to visits from some of our friends from our BYU days. It's been fun reminiscing and catching up, and it's always nice to hear Kevin's deep laugh that I just can't quite get out of him by making puns with the names of Eastern European countries at 11 at night, but that flows easily when talking with old friends.

The first friends to visit were the Toblers. We've both visited each other in Columbus and Ann Arbor since we moved out here 2 years ago, but we hadn't met their beautiful baby girl yet, so we were so excited.

The meeting of Hazel and Joseph. Hard to say what they thought of each other.

We set off Saturday morning to County Farm Park, primarily for Joseph's benefit. We considered going on some of the trails, but we got stalled at the playground.

I guess a picture of the Toblers would make more sense here. We took pictures of them with their camera.

After takeout from Palm Palace, we played Bang. Between late night talking and baby-soothing, playing hard at the playground, and getting stuffed with Mediterranean food, I don't think any of us were too heartbroken at dying if it meant we got to doze for the rest of the game.

Soon after that, we made taco soup to add to the chili-strone event put on by some ward members. The idea was for everyone to bring a can of soup to contribute to a giant pot. The result would be chili or minestrone or something in between. It sounded disgusting, but everyone was down for it, so we put the soup together pretty quickly and walked over.

The end result wasn't all that bad, at least until Joseph accidentally spilled some horchata in my bowl. Not my top choice, but definitely not the taste bud nightmare I was fearing. And the Toblers were very patient explaining to everyone "No, we're not new. We're just visiting."

We left that party early so we could catch Central Campus before bedtime. We wandered through the quad, past the train exhibit in the art museum, into the magical law library, and past tailgate-trash-littered yards near the fraternities (only worth mentioning because it was so unbelievable).

And this was the only picture I took.

Once we got back and got the littles in bed, it was time to pull out the time-tested Killer Bunnies. If you don't know how the game goes, it's hard to describe the sheer mania it descends into, how winning becomes less important than certain people not winning, how impossible it is to turn down weapons that destroy everyone else's bunnies, how long certain bunnies can survive being passed from player to player, and how a suggestion that "You've already shuffled the deck enough, Kevin," can cause a player to pick several "Play immediately" cards in succession, most of them killing off all your bunnies. It was pretty great.

The next morning, after church, there was a linger longer. Again, the Toblers were very patient in explaining, "We're just visiting." After naps, we headed to the Botanical Gardens. As we pulled in, the parking lot seemed strangely full.

"Are you here for the wedding?" people asked as we walked in. Loads of people were in suits, dresses, and formal clothing. Had we stayed in our church clothes, we would have fit right in. Although we briefly considered it, we opted for other parts of the gardens. (Not the greenhouse so much though. What feels great in an arctic freeze feels like being mugged by angry heat gods in August.)

Flowers in boots. "That's so silly." I think the Lord of the Rings music was still playing down at the wedding at this point.

Speaking of hobbits, we found this charming little house.

And Joseph insisted on taking one of the chairs with him everywhere.

It was eventually returned.

It was hot!

All too soon, the Toblers had to head back to Columbus for random things like classes and clinicals and real life. We considered joining them the next day for their ward's Labor Day BBQ, but we decided we were done with "Are you new?" "No, just visiting" conversations.

And, of course, we had to prep for our next Midwestern visitors . . .

Wise and Happy

Oh, I'd known for a few months that Kevin was going to be in Belgium for 11 days, but I had chosen not to think about it at all. There were other things to get through -- his trip to Hawaii, our trip to Utah, a four-hour meeting the day he left -- so it wasn't really until he left Joseph with me at the church and left for the airport that it really sunk in. He was gone. And I had no clue what I was going to do for the next week and a half.

We had brainstormed a bit before he left. "Maybe you could hang out with [friend 1]."
"She'll be in Virginia."
"Friend 2?"
"Also Virginia."
"Friend 3?"
"Actually, she's still in Virginia too."
"Friend 4?"
"Toronto."
"Friend 5?"
"Still not back yet."
"Friend 6?"
"Latvia, I think."
"Maybe you could get to know our next-door neighbors better."
"They just moved today. Back to Singapore."

Once Joseph and I walked into the dark, empty apartment, the magnitude of the isolation really started to weigh down on me. How were we going to make it through the next 11 days?

Well, we did! This was largely thanks to a quote by President Hinckley: "You can be wise and happy or stupid and miserable." Each time a decision came up, I learned to think, "Is this wise or stupid? Will I be happy or miserable?" Eventually I learned to usually pick the wise decisions, and things were better.

Throughout it all (though mostly early on), I did make some miserable decisions, such as these:

• Not giving Joseph medicine at the first signs of pain. He ended up cutting a molar the first few days and then had a sore throat the next few thanks to a cold we both caught, and it was the worst, especially when I hesitated.
• Getting mad. I came to realize that it was a choice, even if sometimes it was a choice that was really easy to make. And even though I was often justified in my anger, I felt better once I chose to be happy. (And then I would feel sheepish for ever being mad.)
• Not going shopping soon enough. We still had plenty of food for Sunday, but since none of it was the right food (eg strawberries or any other produce) it was stressful.
• Staying up late. I have no idea why I stayed up so late every night, but I did. And it was pointless. And usually boring. And it means that the days Joseph wanted to play starting around 6:20 in the morning were days that I was kind of grumpy.
• Eating food that Joseph had staked his claim on (such as a single chip or a sleeve of Ritz crackers). Usually I didn't know he had claimed it until I had chewed a little bit, but I learned to always ask.

Luckily, with President Hinckley's voice ringing in my ears, I was able to make better decisions too, such as these:

• Asking for help. Although my friend pool was seriously diminished, it was not depleted! (This is one of the best parts about being part of a ward . . . there are so many people to turn to.) Although I stopped short of admitting that Kevin was out of town on Facebook (I'm a little paranoid), I made sure people knew. If people offered dinner or babysitting, I said yes. And I invited myself over more than normal. (Thank you everyone who helped. I owe you all.)
• Letting Joseph do most anything he wanted as long as it wasn't destructive. Or, if I didn't want him to do it (eg watch another Daniel Tiger episode), I made sure I had a pretty good alternative. 
• Oh, speaking of Daniel Tiger -- having Joseph watch the episode about trying vegetables right before I made roasted vegetables was one of the best things that happened while Kevin was gone.
• Letting Joseph roam around like this (usually he had shoes, but not always). You pick your battles.
• Keeping the house clean. To my surprise, I kept it cleaner than when Kevin is around. Probably because 1) I realized no one else would do it for me, 2) I had a bit more company than normal, and 3) my goodness, I kept losing stuff! Toys and shoes and more shoes and I just had to hunt and hunt and hunt for them and while I was at it hey look let's organize the dresser! And let's just keep the counters clear while we're at it! So that was good for my sanity.
• Exercising was also good for my sanity.
• So was eating healthily. I had sort of expected to spend my evenings eating junk, but then when Joseph caught a cold I wanted to do everything I could to avoid it, even not eating sugar (some people say that lowers your immune system, and I didn't want to risk it). It didn't end up working, and I spent one Sunday horribly congested and sick and exhausted and I lost my sense of smell entirely for the next day and a half, but at least I was eating healthily! (I'm not anymore.)
• Flirting using bad puns over the internet. I am pretty sure that is actually my love language. (Quality time is probably a close second, so I am glad Kevin's back.)
• Keeping busy. We didn't end up doing any big grand adventures, but we did attend everything we could think of, including stuff we don't usually do like storytime at the library. 

And then, finally, last night we did the wisest and happiest thing yet and picked up Kevin from the airport. And it was glorious.