Caroline

I Got Two Dogs by John Lithgow

I Got Two DogsI Got Two Dogs by John Lithgow
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
View all my reviews

Here is what you all didn’t even know that you were waiting for: the inaugural “Good Reads for Kids by Kids” post. I am excited to share my kids’ reviews for their favorite books. Reading is one of our favorite forms of entertainment. I love kids lit! I love the fun illustrations. I love the simplicity of topics. I especially love the fact that they teach really good life lessons in a way that keeps not just the interest of children but of every age group .

Caroline and I go to the library once a week. She picks out about twenty books and then LG and I each take a turn every other night reading three to her before bed. We have done this with all our kids and consequently they all love to read. I personally believe the most influential thing a parent can do for the kids education is to read to them. So far, so good. Our kids are smart.

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At the library on Tuesday I was excited to find a book by John Lithgow. I love him as an actor and so I had high hopes. The cover looked like it could be a winner. Yeah, I judge books my their covers all the time.

LG got to read on Tuesday and so when I snuggled in with Caroline last night I wasn’t surprised that even though Daddy had already read it with her, out of her twenty choices, she wanted to read Lithgow’s book with me again. When that happens it means she really likes the book.

We read it together and I also loved it. It’s fun. It’s funny. The illustrations are great. It keeps your interest with the catchy rhymes. Then, as if I needed an additional selling point, Caroline asked me if we could listen to the CD. Dad had promised.

Oh my goodness, I fell in love with John Lithgow all over again. What a fun and catchy song! Kids can listen to the song and use the book to help them with their sight reading. It’s genius.

If you need any more selling points:

1- The book is about dogs. All kids love dogs.

2- The book can be used for a great comparison lesson. How are the two dogs the same? How are they different?

3- The book could be turned into a really fun skit or puppet show.

4- Kids can participate with the well placed OOOOOO’s.

I give the book 5 stars. Caroline on the other hand gives it 6. Six out of five.

Check it out. I didn’t rig it. If you watch the video from this morning all the way through, you’ll hear her grade the book for yourself.

I am thinking about re-posting her with the CD and book in a few days. I am pretty sure she will be able to sing every single word to the song. The real bonus will be that she will probably also be able to sight read every single word in the book too.

Nicely done John Lithgow. Nicely done.  Although I do kind of feel sorry for those other 19 books from the library this week. I don’t think they will get half as much attention.

The Baby Syndrome {vlogs by Caroline}

caroline preschool

I don’t know if I will ever stop calling Caroline “baby” even though she has been telling me for over a year that she isn’t a baby anymore. I always remind her that she’s “my baby.” And she is.

I am a middle child and so I know little about babyhood. In fact, I am pretty sure I came out of the womb totally grown and responsible as I had a sister one year older than me and a brother one year older than her. My next sister was born by the time I turned four and another brother shortly after her. I have always had this inner dialogue that if I wanted anything I would have to get it myself. I don’t know what it would be like to be showered with attention even though I have this super annoying inner instinct to fight for it.

Watching Caroline I am actually stunned by the reality of babyhood. She oscillates between being showered with attention, fighting for attention, and not getting any at all. It must be challenging to be the baby. She’s spoiled rotten yet kind of ignored. I can imagine that may confuse a person. I need to read up on it so I can help her be healthy in her baby syndrome. I don’t want her to grow up all confused and needy.

Today Caroline started her second year of pre-school. I love the mornings that I can go and do whatever I want alone for a few hours. Unlike other parents that talk about missing their kids while they are at school, I look forward to Caroline’s kindergarten and beyond so that I will have a little more time to pursue my own goals without kids at feet. Call me selfish. I think you can just call me honest.

I took a video of Caroline this morning asking her about preschool.

Caroline in her babyhood has taken a real liking to the video camera lately. Here are some other vlogs that she has created. I make a true to life cameo in the first soccer video with my mean adamant mom-voice “NO.” It think I have perfected it if I do say so myself.

I am sure you noticed that I have taught my daughter to chomp on her gum just like me. Just a few weeks ago while driving alone in the car along a country road with no radio reception, I rolled down the windows and chomped away, just because LG wasn’t there to tell me the habit was annoying. It is amazing how chomping helps one to have something on which to focus when bored.

Other side-note: I so loved the Latin man on the sideline at the game. He just seemed to make the soccer game that much more authentic. It was fun to be close to him for one half of the game, but the second half we moved to the other side as his incessant cheering became a little cumbersome even with his fun futbol-inspired accent.

Swim Lessons Confumed {vlog}

We were on our way home from swim lessons yesterday when Caroline requested that I turn off the loud music. I asked her why she didn’t want the music on. She said, “It just makes me so confumed.” I loved her made up word. At four years old she combined confused with consumed. What an appropriate way of communicating the way the music was making her feel. If we all could just be so eloquent.

Today at swim lessons I got to watch a mom try to wrangle, manipulate, and beg her four year old to participate. The instructor dragged him into the pool for a bit but ended up bringing him back to his coddling mom on the sideline when he just wouldn’t be consoled. The kid never deviated from his standing shivering and screaming “it’s too cold.” I wondered why in the world his mom just didn’t wait another year to sign him up.

For twenty minutes he cried. I thought “what a cry-baby I wonder what that mom is doing wrong”…and then I realized my arrogance and changed the thought to “Wow, that mom must be amazing because God sent her that kid. He knew I couldn’t handle that kid. I should try to be more awesome.” At the given situation, I was exasperated and she was totally calm. I smiled at her and gave her a thumbs up while I read an appropriate line from my newest favorite book Carry On Warrior.

Be confident because you are a child of God. Be humble because everyone else is too.

Really the mom could be screwing the kid up, but guess what? I am too. I looked over to see Caroline insist that she be the motor boat every time. She didn’t think those other kids needed a turn. She’s the baby 6 years younger than the rest of her siblings. She’s kind of spoiled and there’s nothing I can do about the way God timed it.

At swim lessons it’s an equal toss up between chatting with another adult or reading a book while my kids are entertained. You can’t really go wrong with either one if your kid is willing to get in the pool.

Chocolate Milk Bottle Sippy Cup

Photo Jan 11, 12 13 59 PM

Caroline turned 4 -years-old last week.
I am so glad we have her. She keeps us on our toes.
There is never a dull moment with her.
She makes all of us laugh all the time.

When she was really little she liked to ask for her bottle of milk. “Can I have my milk bottle mom?”

Then my mom introduced her to Quik (the chocolate powder) and she changed her question to, “Can I have a chocolate milk bottle?”

Shortly after she got that question down, we transitioned into sippy cups and every day, all day, it seemed, I would hear her sweet little voice, “Mom, can I have a chocolate milk bottle sippy cup?” We’ve been in that stage for several years. We probably should have given it up over a year ago.

The older she became the more demanding the request became, “Mom, get me a chocolate milk bottle sippy cup. NOW!”  Oh the terrible twos and threes. She wants milk all the time. As a family, we consume four gallons a week, three of which can more than likely be attributed to the smallest of us.

Last week, on her fourth birthday Caroline’s sisters used the occasion to encourage more independence from the breathing dementor (uh I mean demander). “Caroline, you are four, now you can get yourself dressed. You can wipe yourself on the potty because you are four. You’re a big girl, you can put on your own seatbelt.” The biggest change that they wanted to see happen is the sippy cup. They want her to graduate from it so they no longer have to hassle with the ordeal of pouring the milk, adding the Quik, warming it in the microwave to the perfect temperature, finding the lid and the plastic sippy part, putting on the lid, and shaking it up to hand it over. I find it fascinating that the girls are as encumbered with this task when they do it so rarely in comparison to LG and I, but I completely appreciate their help in the matter and love to watch them mentor Caroline. I readily admit that we should have at the very least quit warming up her milk two years ago, but what can I say? I’m almost 40? I’m tired? Wouldn’t that sound too extremely lackadaisical? Why yes it would. And it would be true.

I digress.

So, when LG got home from work one day last week, the girls were explaining to him their encouragement of Caroline’s independence. Caroline proudly proclaimed, “Daddy, I don’t have to drink out of a sippy cup any more because I am four. I’m a big girl. Now I drink a chocolate milk bottle sippy cup in a cup.”

LG first supported by saying, “Way to go Caroline. You are a big girl”, and then he observed, “And that name of what you drink  just keeps getting longer and longer, doesn’t it?”

Abigail responded in typical Gold humor, “Yeah, when she turns 5 we are going to make  her drink a chocolate milk bottle sippy cup in a cup with a straw.”

As we all laughed hysterically, for one second, I felt the true joy of motherhood. My kids are wonderful.

And then Caroline spilled the milk all over her dinner plate (not literally) and we went back to sippy cups. (honestly, we did.) The End.

P.S. Thanks to the great pearlsforgirls for linking back to my Father of the Year post.

Father of the Year

Photo courtesy of Wave At The Bus.

daleI just read a wonderful article about a bunch of great dads. It is a must-read. It’ll get your tears flowing in gratitude for so many wonderful men around the world.

The article highlights one of my favorite dads on the planet: Dale Price of WaveAtTheBus fame. He resides close in Utah and has a lovely wife whom I adore.

The article also brings to light some other pretty awesome dads who do things like…

  • photoshop ewoks into family vacation photos.
  • hack Donkey Kong so his daughter can play as Pauline to save Mario.
  • build a spaceship simulator.

and

  • draws amazing art on his kids’ lunchbags.

As I read through this article this morning I was stunned by my realization:

These best dads didn’t do anything totally out-of-this-world. They did things that any other dad with the same talent could do. They did simple things that accentuated the positive that they already possessed. The difference between them and other successful men in this world was that they used their talent/interest towards their children not away from them. They used their creativity to show their children that they loved them; they included their children and honored their children.

I am the lucky daughter of a dad like that. When I was a kid, there was a newspaper article written about him entitled, “A Man Who Always Has Time For the Children.” My dad did always make time for me and my 6 siblings, and our friends, and a lot of other kids who needed a father figure. He didn’t draw us things or build spaceships or dress up silly but he built awesome tree houses, and left donuts for breakfast, and included us when he was working on the cars (which was often). He spent a lot of time with us in the ocean, installed industrial sized toilet paper dispensers, and videotaped EVERYTHING.

My hubby is also one of the greats out there. He hasn’t hacked Donkey Kong (well at least not that I know of) but he has shared his love of electronics with our daughters, teased them incessantly, taken way more daddy/daughter dates then one can count, and helped with homework. He watches the show Psych with the girls just so they can quote back and forth the funny lines and he has passed along his love for gumballs, beef jerky, and bacon as well as the bands The Beatles and Fun.

The moral of the story:
If you want to be a good dad (or mom),
be good at what you love and be good WITH your children.
You may not get five minutes of fame but you will be called “Best” by the ones that matter most forever.

lg

My job

This weekend the message came to me for the thousandth time.
It was a clear as a bell, like it always is when I stop to listen.
It was an answer to my two pages of questions to God.

It came from Bruce D. Porter and was entitled Beautiful Mornings.

I do this every 6 months. I write down all the life struggles that I am having in form of questions to God and then I spend a whole weekend listening to living prophets, and I listen for the answers. They always come through the gift of the Holy Ghost. God whispers them directly to my soul. This time there were 18 specific answers all small parts to my journey back to Him, and all connected to one another.

My questions varied from how can I afford to go back to college to should we move to a cheaper place to save money. How can I strengthen my marriage? What is my life mission and how do I accomplish it? How can I be happy in my calling? (I meant my job at church but had no idea until I listened intently that I also needed this answer for my calling in life)

All the answers pointed to my most important title: mom

Pleasing God needs to be my first priority. When I make pleasing God the top priority in my heart, my husband and children rightfully earn their places at the top of my to-do lists. If pleasing God means that I have to quit my job and live on rice and beans, so be it. If it means that I don’t get to go back to school for another year or two, it’s o.k. I need to live my life on God’s timetable and with his rules because He is where I will find the greatest happiness. If I never get the dream house or the coveted vacation because I limped through hubby’s law school and supported him through the aftermath (and beyond – for the next 40 years of student loan payments) and encourage my children’s extra-curriculars it will be to my glory: eventually.

For me the answer is always that MY JOB is to nurture my children and support my husband. My job is to let go of my need for approval in the eyes of others. I have to let go of the Western culture of acquiring wealth. I even have to let go of my need to achieve certain things because if I am doing it for me and not for Him, it’s wrong. It’ll never be right no matter how wonderful.

It’s so ironic that after recommitting myself and finding inner peace,
my beautiful morning looks like this:

“Mom, do you know what this is?
It’s my job to do.”
“Mom, move out of my way!
…..
I’m looking for something important.
Can you help me find it?”

Who knew inner peace would be so loud?

or rainy?

and disguised 
as one mess after another
for me to clean?
Once again I am brought to my knees.
Please God, help me to understand.
Help me be humble.
Help me love my job.
Help it to make me happy.
And I just found this on facebook and must include it
for my Mormon friends.
I guess things could always be worse.

Daddy’s Baby
I guess LG had been trying 
to grow his hair out again.
I hadn’t noticed
until a few days ago he
lamented to me,
“Alice, I forget how far back
my hair has receded
until I grow it out.”
Bad for LG.
Good for me.
I love his hair buzzed.
Imagine my surprise
today
when Caroline
brought this photo to me
and said,
“Mom this is so strange.
Dad doesn’t have pokey hair.”
LG I guess
you are going to have to 
keep
your
hokey pokey
style.
We’re you trying
to grow it out
at hopes of
revisiting
those newlywed days?
Better luck next time.

Newga
This little lion has been with Caroline from birth.

It was a baby shower gift.
Thanks Aimee!!
Caroline named her
sometime in her first year.
Her name is 
New-Gu
or Newga.

Every night before this sleeping angel goes to sleep
we have a routine.
We go potty, change into clean panties and p.j.’s, and read three books.

We then give each other big kisses
and I say,
“I love you the mostest.”
She then repeats it back to me
anywhere between 5 and 10 times.
Then I pull out Newga
(the last step til sleep)
and proceed to shower Caroline
with kisses from her favorite lion pal.
Caroline always tells Newga to “Stop it Newga”
while trying to hide under her covers.
Newga promises to behave,
Caroline comes out
and gives her a kiss
and then shares with lioness
her favorite pink blankie.
As I walk out of the room
I say
“Goodnight Caroline.
Goodnight Newga.”
Thank you to
Ms. Sunshine
(the pre-school teacher)
for a very permanent reminder
of how powerfully
this nightly ritual
speaks love
into Caroline’s heart.
Caroline brought this home on Valentine’s Day.
I am so glad Ms. Sunshine
wrote down exactly what
Caroline told her
even if she had no idea
what she was talking about.
We all knew
exactly who Caroline
loves.
I am so grateful to God
for giving me Caroline.
She is spoiled rotten.
We all love her so much.
Thank you God for Caroline
and for Newga
as a nightly reminder of
how blessed I am
to love and be loved.

I need a mom.

I am sure you have all noticed my lack of posts this week
because I know you all come here every day with super high hopes
because I am the world’s most amazing blogger.

O.k. o.k. I’m not, I know.
I may not be the world’s best blogger
and I am most certainly not the world’s best mom,
but guess what I am all they’ve got.
They’ll get over it eventually,
after some good therapy
that I will hold off on as long as possible
so they have to pay for it themselves.
I mean really
if the choice is between therapy
and cold cereal,
I am pretty sure the shredded mini wheats
or the more appreciated at the moment.

What am I good for anyway?
I’ll tell you what.

I always throw away the empty bottles in the shower.
I always make sure that everyone is fed.
I always make sure everyone has clean clothes.
I am always the first one to hand over the trashcan when someone is sick.
I buy all the food.
I buy all the toiletries.
O.k LG buys it, but I purchase it,
and you all know that it’s not the easiest task
to keep household items in stock.

We never (I mean NEVER) run out of toilet paper.
(O.k. we do all the time in our bathroom where
at least a roll a day escapes through the floor vent
and can never seem to replace itself. This always seems to happen
when I am done with my after-run #2. I always get a little mournful when I notice that once again I am up sheeshcreek – and my husband has absolutely nothing to do with the disappearing TP or the empty dispenser and it really isn’t his fault that he’s at work when I am the most in need. I love bargaining with a three year old ever so carefully to bring me a roll of the most necessary item in the hygienist’s closet that is missing from MY bathroom!)
But it is never missing from the house all together,
and that is totally because I am awesome.

Caroline came home from pre-school today highly disappointed. She has been talking about kangaroo zoo for a month and they finally got to go today but after playing on the blow-up bouncy toys for the hour with her class, she turned to her teacher, and said, “This isn’t a kangaroo zoo. There aren’t any kangaroos.” She was so totally bummed.

I brought her home and gave her cheetos and an orange and then bought her some bubble gum.

I got dinner ready, cleaned the house, showered off my running filfth, and even had two minutes to spare to write this post before running off to work for the fourth night in a row. When I come home tonight too tired to even check my facebook, I will realize for the hundreth time

that I need my own mom.
Every mom needs a mom.
It’s too bad mine lives in kangaroo zoo.