Potty Training, Day Four

Again, I was worried about how the day would go based on how the morning went. She did go on the potty, but she fought me . . . a lot. Then, as if by magic, after about 11:00 she was cheerful and did AWESOME! In fact, she told me when she needed to go every time for the rest of the day. No accidents until just before bed at about 8:00, but I think that was because she was distracted by Dave coming home after being gone for a few days. She did great. I actually can't wait to see how she does tomorrow. Our relationship (Audrey and I) has greatly improved these last couple of days now that we've finally started working toward a common goal. She's been incredibly sweet, saying things like "I love you so much, Mommy," "You're my favorite girl," "You make me so happy." And she's made me laugh a lot today just being so dang funny. I'm so proud of her.

Potty Training, Day Two

This morning she had me a little worried. I put her on the potty first thing in the morning, but this time she gave me a fight and said she would go potty tomorrow and that she wanted a diaper today. :S Well, finally I bribed her to go potty and she did pretty well. She refused to go every 20 minutes, but I asked her often enough (and she said yes often enough) that she didn't have any accidents until the evening when she was tired. And she told me about it, then finished going in the potty. So, that's pretty good. She refused to poop in the potty, but maybe tomorrow. A great day. She even went to Nana and Oompa's today and used the potty a few times there. I think we're finally doing it. I thought it would never happen.

And speaking of breakthroughs, Jane has been going down to sleep no problems, in fact she's not even crying now when we put her to bed. Those nights she usually does better sleeping through the night, but we've still gotta work on that one.

And my house? Still a total mess. But, hey, we're workin' here.

A dance picture that WASNT in The Box

I saved the best for last. I didnt have this dance picture on my last post because it wasn't in The Box; but I thought it would be okay for me to add it as a separate post. This is the picture from the only dance I went to with Crystal before we were married. We have been to a few since then.

She's the most shiny of them all.

Stuff from The Box: Part II

This is David. Again.

Prepare yourselves for that most basic of all food groups in everyone's "Box"...the DANCE pictures.

Were we out to find romance?
Were we just being nice and saying "yes" when asked?
Usually, there was one of each kind in most every couple at the dance.

And usually I was the first one.

What tragic, awful things are dances.

I have to preface this with a brief explanation of high school dances in Rexburg.

First of all, there's at least 5 per year. So, if everyone starts dating when they turn 16 (which they all do), then you can comfortably fit at least 15 high school dances in. These are split evenly between girl-ask and boy-ask.

I can't remember which of the following dances was girl-ask or boy-ask, but if you look at the group, you can usually tell. Ask yourself: on the whole, are the girls prettier than the boys? Or are the boys prettier than the girls? That should usually give you a pretty good idea of who asked whom.

High school dances at Madison were all-day affairs. Sometimes they started at 8 in the morning and went till 3 the next morning. That's ridiculous. NOBODY wants to spend that much time (or money) on someone who they are "just friends" with. Trust me.

And, of course, asking your date to the dance was an event in itself. You had to spend almost as much time and money finding a creative way to ask as you did on the actual date. This is, of course, also ridiculous.

I saw a book once that purported to contain "100 creative ways to ask for a date." I am quite certain that this book is only sold in Idaho and Utah. I don't think the book was very effective. As I glanced through the pages I saw some strange ideas:

62) give your date a jar of dum dum suckers with a note that says "don't be a dum dum, go to the dance with me!"

so...insult the girl? check.

89) saw a 2 x 4 board almost all the way in half and go to your date's house in a karate outfit. When she answers the door, say "if you don't go to the dance with me, I'll be very dissapointed" and then break the board with a karate chop.

Threaten the girl? You could go to jail for that.

Why not combine these two "power-moves"? Insult her AND threaten her. She'll love that.

Send her a picture of a donkey with a note that says "hey jackass, go to the dance with me or I'll break your arm, how does that sound?"

You'll be her knight in shining armor. She'll love you FOREVER.

Of course in Rexburg--here's the best part--she would still probably say yes anyway.

This was my very first dance. The rest of the pictures are not in order. I can't remember the order, but this was my first one.

I look SOOO young.

And Will Jennings looks SOOO much like a vampire (not the kind with glistening skin--just the old dracula kind).

I never went to another dance with Jill, but we are still close friends to this day.

Edgar looks like a Guatemalan Barak Obama in this picture. "Can I dance with girls that are taller than me? YES I CAN!"

Next:

I think this dance was sometime during late junior or early senior year. I don't remember much about it. I do remember we played tennis for the date. Which was a bad idea because my date, Carly, was a tennis pro and I had never really played.


Did I mention I am very competitive person who does not like to lose? Think of the snowball-fight scene in "Dumb and Dumber." Sparks definitely flew on this date.


We played doubles. Boys against girls. Also never a good idea. Carly was good, and Elaine was pretty good too. I was not, and Marco was an exchange student from Brazil. You know, the other country. The one where everyone plays soccer.


Apparently they don't play a lot of tennis in his part of Brazil.





I have NO idea what we did for the date or when this was, but Jared cracks me up in this picture. I don't think I ever saw him in a tuxedo before or since this night.


By the way, have you ever noticed that girls are SOOO....shiny.



Classy.

Elaine was probably THRILLED with this picture. You can tell she is cursing me through clenched teeth.

I am of course wearing my 80's clubbing shirt again. I only had about 4 shirts in high school, including my tuxedo, so...we'll be seeing this one again and again.

I also don't remember this date, but I'm sure it was awkward--what with Margie and her cradle-robbing date from the grade below us. You just don't do that where I'm from.

This is back when Jill was dating Micah. I didn't really know hiim at all.

This picture got damaged, obviously--some glue or something must have gotten on it.

Anyway, weird theme, right?

Camping. I can't remember what the photographer said, but it must have been something like "okay, you in the back can all stand normally like friends, and you two, sit awkwardly inside the tent together."

This was one of those "matching shirt" dances. I liked those. I needed as many new shirts as I could get.

Another matching shirt dance. Cara Hart asked me to this one. She is above me in the picture. I am SURE I had a crush on her at the time, which is why I decided to comb my hair like Andrew Jackson.

I guess I thought that would work for me. I'm thinking now that it probably didn't.

Notable couples from the past: Eli and Ashleigh, Mel and Cory, Jill and Micah again. Ah, "strangers we might have married."

These people were all in the grade below me. I didn't really know them too well. Actually, I didnt even know the girl who asked me very well, but I do remember this ended up being a really fun date.

Probably because they all felt compelled to laugh at my jokes because I was older than them. In high school, being a year older commands some respect. When does that end?

I remember this one because everyone on the date was more popular than me.

I don't know if I actually wore my baseball hat IN the dance. Probably did. Very classy.

This dance was in Rigby. I worked with this girl over the summer and she asked me to their dance. I thought I was pretty cool, getting asked to another school's dance, but then I realized the level of her desperation when she asked "do you know anyone who can go with my friend?"

Wow. Maybe I wasn't so cool.

I hooked Edgar up with her friend. And he wore his hat in the dance. We're like brothers or something.

Again, rocking the squid hair.

I don't know what happened to the group shot from this dance. Don't even remember who was in the group. I DO remember that we watched the "new" X-Files movie on a projector screen (which was an impressive novelty at the time) in the school gym.

I also remember that I tried to hold her hand in the scary parts, but she apparently wasn't scared.

I tried the old arms-folded-push-one-hand-way-out-on-the-side thing. You know how it goes, your fingers brush her arm in the dark and let her know that you want to hold her hand. If she holds your hand, great. If not, you push your hand around to scratch your own back and act like it was an accident.

I scratched my back so many times in that movie she must have thought I had some kind of rash.

Another dance with people who were cooler than me. This was probably the only date I went on with Kri. We were pretty good friends, but I can't remember any other dates. It was a halloween dance, obviously.

We were told to dress like dead backstreet boys.

I didn't know how to look "dead," so I just went with "severely beaten." I DID know how to dress like a Backstreet boy. In fact, as we all know, I had the perfect backstreet boy shirt.

I consented to show my shoulder in this photo in the heat and energy of the moment. This could NOT be the result of rational decision making. But then, neither could Kate Hill's makeup in this photo.

OOOOHHH, I remember this one. I don't remember why we grouped with these guys--we weren't particularly good friends. But I DO remember this date. It was pretty bad.

We went snowmobiling. My date didn't seem to have fun at all. It was a LONG day. The dance wasn't much better. But then, a few days after the dance, she was all smiles and flirty again. What?!?

Girls. They may be shiny, but they are ALSO confusing.

We saw each other about a year ago in Rexburg. We said hi; but other than that, we didn't really speak to each other.

I can't really remember this one, but it LOOKS like it was fun. I am pretty sure we MADE our corsages and boutonnieres for our dates, on the date.

I esspecially LOVE the tennis shoes I was wearing with my tux. I can't remember where I got that tux, but I should have worn it more often.

My wedding would have been the perfect venue.

Another one where I didn't really know anyone on the date. I knew my date, but that is about it. I remember we ate Italian food. So...there.

Apparently the theme in this date was to ask the tallest, skinniest guys possible.

Senior Prom or Commencement or whatever its called. I remember this one. After all, it was my LAST high school dance.

We went scuba diving in a pool in Idaho Falls. I had never been. And I have never been since. My ears hurt all day afterwards, but it was fun.

We went to Yellowstone to see Old Faithful and to eat at that fancy lodge restaurant.

That's right. Spare no expense.

I am pretty sure I made my date split an entree with me, because I'm poor and because I know how to make a girl feel special.

We went to the dance in the back of a pimped out moving van with a disco ball and some couches.

This picture cracks me up:

Ghostly Josh B,

the eerie Eli / Ashleigh kiss from the past,

Rueben (who apparently thought we were actually supposed to be crawling),

Edgar and his almost-was, Camille,

and me...making a "west side" sign like the gangsta that I am. "I'm from the west side of Rexburg, Yo! HIBBARD 4 LIFE!!!"

Why do high school boys try so hard to be dangerous?

After the dance we took our "limo" back to Eli's house and ate midnight pancakes till about 2. It was fun.

BUT . . . it was wrong. This dance should have been different.

I had promised months before this dance to ask Elaine to Commencement and I didn't. So, not that she cares any more, but the truth is that I have always felt bad about hurting her feelings like that. So, for what it's worth, I am publicly apologizing--it was thoughtless and cruel. Sorry.

On that note, let's leave the drama of high school and move on to the drama of college.

Can I say I dated a cheerleader if there was no real sports program at BYU-I? Technically she was on the squad. I say that counts.

This girl was my friend Marie's roommate. I suppose I did have a little crush on her for a few

weeks, but I knew it would never go anywhere. She was about half my size. I guess I could have snuck her into movies in my pocket or something, but other than that, our relative size disparity would have been a disadvantage.

Another classy one.

It was supposed to be funny, but it came out looking like I'm a huge perv.

I don't remember this girl's name either. (Man, it seems like there are a lot of those.) She was in my social dance class. Maybe Reuben remembers her name. He was in that class too. Anyway, I'm sure she was nice, but if it wasn't for this picture, her memory would be totally lost to me. I can't remember what we did on the date, I can't remember any conversations I ever had with her.

All I have left is a creepy picture of me looking like a perv.

This is probably her only memory of me, as well.

UGLIEST. PICTURE. EVER.

Of me.

Everyone else looks just fine in it. I look like I got into my mom's rouge or some war paint. I look like I just got slapped.

I think I probably look like that because I had just finished doing some sweet breakdancing moves and I was breathing hard and sweating. Again--I knew how to show my dates a good time. What is more attractive than a tall, white kid who can't really breakdance embarrasing you in front of everyone as he rolls around on the dirty floor and comes up sweaty and looking like a vaudeville showgirl.

Girls LOVE that.

Classy. Again.

At least this made it easy to find our pictures from the table of sameness stacked with thousands of pictures after every dance.

By this time, I had given up on "impressive" dates--I am pretty sure we went to McDonalds for dinner. Some kind of scavenger hunt after that. It didn't much matter anymore.

I was all danced out.

That's it for now. Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion of "The Box."

Stuff From The Box: Part I

This is David.

Ever since I finished the bar, I always get the same questions from everyone: 1) "how do you think you did?" 2) "So, what do you do with all your time now?" and 3) "What happened to your face?"

All good questions.

1. I think I probably squeaked by on the bar. Probably didn't get the highest score in Texas; but I feel like I did the best I could.

2. I am playing with my daughters, hanging out with my wife, and slowly becoming a legendary guitar hero.

3. Nothing. I was born this way. Jerk.

Back to number 2. Today, I did something different.

I opened..."The Box" [cue ominously descending music: dum dum dum].

You may think you don't know what "The Box" [dum dum dum] is, but you do. Everyone has one. "The Box" holds the knowledge of the past, the power of the present, and the secrets of the future [dum dum dum], and it is yours to use for good or evil.

Or...The Box is just a tote with a bunch of junk that, at one time or another, I admitted that I didn't need to see on a daily basis, but also thought I could not throw away for some reason.

NOW do you know what box I am talking about?

I told you. You have one. Everyone does.

Some people have one box, some people have many. I have half a box. Crystal's old junk (I mean "meaningful treasures") fills the other half.

My Box is dark blue (befitting its role as keeper of the dark mysteries of my subconscious mind--which I imagine being blue), and not so big as to be unwieldy for a man of normal strength (alas, I cannot move it alone, but when Crystal helps me we do okay)--it's about 3' x 2' x 2'.

Of course, I never look through "The Box" unless I have 3 months with nothing to do and I am already getting bored. I don't need to tell you this doesn't happen often. But, it happened today. The Box called to me, and I was taken in by its siren song:

"David, I'm full of a bunch of old garbage...Look inside...Look inside...You know you want to see who you are...where you came from...open me and find out why you are the way you are...find out what happened to your face..."

I knew I never really had a chance against the awesome seductive power of The Box. It was only a matter of time before I gave in.

So since I have now wasted the whole day looking through the box instead of productively honing my guitar hero skills, I have decided that only if you, dear reader, waste some of your time too, I will feel better. So today is your lucky day. I am going to show you some highlights from The Box.

Buckle up.

The truth is that I was not ALWAYS the wise, articulate, popular, athletic, chiseled Roman God you see before you today. Shockingly, I used to be...are you ready for this?...a big fat loser. I know, I know. You are shocked.

Well, actually, I was a small skinny loser--but that might be even worse. At least fat losers can protect themselves from unnecessarily-fast dodge balls with their built-in extra padding. Skinny losers are not so lucky. (Our only evolutionary defense is that we are harder to hit.) I had a VERY difficult childhood.

Exhibit A: Seventh Grade.

Our story begins just before I moved from the Tri-cities, WA to Rexburg, ID. I was 12 years old, squeaky voiced, palpably awkward, and probably a tad strange to the other boys.

Why?

Because, unlike the other boys, I could do the so-called "chinese splits," and I had the gall to actually reveal this fact to my peers. For those who don't know, "chinese splits" are the splits that Barbies can NOT do. The sideways ones.

Yes, I did just refer to Barbies to explain the splits. But I am not a loser anymore. I promise.

I take you back to the Seventh Grade only because that's where the pictures start. I guess my mom has the earlier ones. (I shudder to think that they are out there...somewhere, waiting to be found by archeologists in thousands of years who will think that all 20th century humans were freckly, buck-toothed, puffy-haired, chinese-splitting freaks with no friends. Sometimes I think archeologists tend to rush to hasty conclusions.)

This was my 7th grade yearbook. 1995. Truly a dark time for the whole world: Oklahoma City bombing, Unabomber's Manifesto, Yahoo is incorporated, and the Grateful Dead break up.

Where was I? Drumroll, please.

This is what I imagined Voldemort looking like as a child (until I saw the latest HP). Turns out, Voldy wasn't nearly this scary as a child. Look again. The pain and shame behind those eyes makes it clear to me: THIS is the face of a future dark wizard.

But...since I have no magical skill (that I know of), I had to settle for being an attorney. Close enough. We both use poorly-pronounced Latin to destroy people. And we both hide pieces of our souls in random objects so that we can't be killed. (Well, maybe wizards do that more than lawyers, but I bet it still happens sometimes. ERISA lawyers mostly, probably. They hide the pieces in obscure provisions of the tax code where they will never be found.)

Next:

Yes, It's true: I played football for one year. I tried to take my aggression out on the field. But it wasn't fun because the other guys were just so much more...aggressive than me.

Eventually I landed the glamorous job of attacking the opposing team's kicker after he had kicked the ball. Now, I don't know a lot about the nuances of football, but can someone please tell me--Is that even a thing? What is the point of attacking the kicker after he kicks the ball? I don't get it. Which is why I didn't play again the next year.

But I wasn't only in football. I was an all-around athlete.

I did not write the "macho wrestling man" comment about myself. Honest. If I had, I would tell you because THAT would be pathetically hilarious.

I wrestled for two years...with the decision to give up wrestling. Finally, I admitted that short, stocky types are simply more suited to singlets than tall, bony, red-headed types. To this day, I have never seen a farmer put a singlet on a scarecrow. And if he did, I don't think the crows would be scared. I know my opponents weren't.

Actually, I do remember winning a few matches--very few. One in particular haunts me to this day. It was my first match, and I was supposed to wrestle a boy who (I did not realize at the time) was actually retarded. I am serious. I am not making this up.

I beat him. Very quickly. I was pretty happy about it at the time. I am not so happy about it anymore. It is actually one of my top 5 regrets. A list we don't need to go into right now. Suffice to say, I really wish I would have let him win. But then, I am older now and more mature, and I have the wisdom of having watched "The Mighty Ducks" enough times to know that winning isn't everything. And to know that I wish I was hard core like that Banks kid.

But enough sadness, let's see something that will make EVERYONE happy except me. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, the coup de grace. The crowning shame of my junior high career.

I give you, the only boy on the gymnastics team.

That is not photo-shopped. That is real. And the pain is also real.

Please, never mention this to me in person.

In my defense, I can still do a standing back tuck, which few 27 year old men can say. I feel pretty good about that. I can NOT still do the Chinese splits.

But see, I wasn't a total loser. Some random people I don't remember signed my yearbook.

And even some not random people. "Friends," I believe they are called. See how LONG they wrote--they either REALLY liked me or they had NOTHING else to do, which explains why they would have been my friends.

So those are all the gems from my 7th grade yearbook. Moving on.

In The Box, I also found a small box of baseball and basketball cards. 240 cards, to be exact. Couple of good ones in there, too. But it's sad how little you can get these days for a good Larry Bird card. Probably not worth selling.

Back in "The Box" they go for another 20 years or so. (Is this how I subconsciously "get back" at athletes for being cooler than me? Probably.)

So anyway, then I moved to Rexburg and had the chance to re-invent myself. Did I take that chance? Was I any cooler in Idaho than I was in Washington?

Unfortunately, no.

I was not any cooler. But I was quite a bit different. For one thing, I stopped living the lie that was my football career. After all, I had to free up the fall for my new sport: cross country.

Running for fun. It has never made sense to me. In fact, if you look closely at this photo, you can see the confusion evident on my face.

I am wheezing just looking at this picture. But that may be because I am laying on my back with the laptop on my chest.

So why did I join cross country if I didn't enjoy running? Because there were girls in cross country. And--much like there is no crying in baseball--there were no girls in football.

Except that one weird one that is at every school. Making waves. Being weird and unattractive.
Not unlike that weird guy who joins the gymnastics team. Weird and unattractive.

Shockingly, after I moved away, I still volunteered for one more season of wrestling humiliation--hoping against hope to have another dream match with another retarded kid. Which reminds me, I actually met one of my best friends at wrestling practice. Jared Olson.

That "deer in the headlights" look is not just THIS picture. He always looks like that.

We were both losers who sucked at wrestling (and at sports generally--no offense, Jared) so naturally we each found the other to be an acceptable sparring partner. Neither one of us would ever win--we would just go until we were both too tired, then we would "truce" or something, I guess. Things were going fine until the coach made our duo into a trio by assigning the only girl on the team to join our little sparring club.

Was it because we were lightweight like her? Or because we were socially inept, like her? I may never know. We both quit the team shortly thereafter and happily never stepped foot in a singlet again. She, however, finished the season with an unbroken string of losses and a couple of wins by forfeit. She was clearly made of tougher stuff than Jared or I.

It was cross country where I became best friends with my other...well...best friend.

Justin Timberlake.

Seriously, based on the pictures of my friends, isn't it clear that I was much cooler in Idaho than I had been in Washington? I mean, LOOK at these people. No wonder its called the Gem State.

Unlike me, Edgar was actually GOOD at running. He always beat me, literally "by a mile." Which makes perfect sense because his legs are about a foot shorter than mine, so...that's why...

I am just not very good at sports, okay?

I did more than sports, though. As I strolled down the amnesia lane that is my senior yearbook, I picked out the highlights:

I talked a lot. Whoopie.

A dubious honor. Notice, the award is not for the "funniest" or the "person that people liked listening to the most." It's just the person who wouldn't shut up. Nice.

I occasionally dressed like a girl to be funny and to win worthless little trophies.

I posed for pictures in scenic locations wearing matching clothes with people who were cooler than me.

I wore trippy 80's clubbing shirts even though I was at a high school in Idaho and it was the very late 90's.

And, finally, I greazed up my hair to look like a dead squid sitting peacefully on my head. A brilliant ruse to keep girls from liking me.

Yes, little, awkward David would be proud of what big, awkward David became by the time he graduated from high school. I never got any cooler than that little gymnastic brace face. I have spent my life in his lonely leotard. (what?!? what time is it?)

Can we all admit that this didn't take too much brain power.

And that this took even less.

I will write more tomorrow. We are only half way through The Box [dum dum dum].

Potty Training, Take Fifty, Day One

I think it was a huge success! I decided to just put her in panties. Then I set the timer for her to try to go potty every 20 minutes. We made it a very loud and exciting time when the timer went off. She only had two accidents the whole day, the first when Josie came to take over for me while I took a nap, and the second when she was super tired and getting in big trouble for hitting Jane. She has a much harder time when she's tired, and when she's getting in trouble . . . combine those two and who can blame her. She peed lots of times and pooped once. She did awesome. I think today is the first day she's finally realizing the benefits of going in the potty and not in a diaper/pullup. And her favorite of those benefits is probably how happy Mommy and Daddy are that she's doing it! Tomorrow I think she'll do even better. Hopefully by the end of this week we won't have to use the timer and she'll be able to tell us when she needs to go.

Response

I wanted to post in response to some of my comments, particularly those of my mother. :)

She's absolutely right. I should just let Audrey chew her nails until she realizes that it's socially unacceptable and everyone tells her she's being gross. It's not like it's going to kill her.

And I just read a potty training article about pull-ups and how they're from the devil . . . it's true.

And of course the laundry issue . . . don't remind me about ironing. I avoid it at all costs. That's why I love having a dryer. I know all the tricks to use the dryer so I don't have to iron a dang thing. And if it's a major ironing job I . . . (sh, don't tell anyone) . . . take it to the cleaners. When they iron it, it lasts longer anyway. Have I shamed you, Mom? :)

(By the way, the clothes are still not put away. It's the sabbath after all, right?)

My lesson today was bearable, barely. I got a lot of confused looks, especially when I asked them why they couldn't date until they were sixteen. I forgot that they were only 13 and couldn't even go to church dances. And it became apparent to me that they aren't really interested in dating or getting to know boys . . . so there were no questions or comments really. Just . . .

SO, it could have been worse I guess.

Good news about my talk, though. I just finished writing a really good draft of it. I decided to write about how each of the young women values helps us obey the law of chastity. It's so much easier to write something when you have a framework that breaks it down into neat little compartments that you just add a few paragraphs to. Maybe I'll post a final copy so you all won't have to lament when you have to talk on chastity. I'll let you plagiarize.

About David's distructive nightmare, he watched Coraline the night before, in case you were wondering. Go watch the trailer. Scary. And we thought it was a kids' movie. After watching the preview, I opted out. Good thing.

Anyway, right now David is at his parents' house. He took the girls so I could work on my talk. I love being alone. I'm just trying to decide what I'll do next. :)

Oh yeah . . . the crazy thing that happened to me yesterday

Dave punched me in the face last night.

Yep. Punched me right in the face. Gave me a huge fat lip.

Last night at approximately . . . the middle of the night . . . I am awaked by David sitting up in bed, doing what could only be called "freaking out," pulling off all the covers on our bed onto the floor, turning on all the lights, all while frantically panicking about something, and somehow in all the hysterics he accidentally hits me in the face. And dispite my fury that he's being nuts, ruining my warm cozy bed, waking up the baby, and hitting me in the face . . . he is convinced that there is a spider the size of a dinner plate somewhere in our bed. (He told me the spider part the next day when I asked him what in the heck happened last night.)

Not only did he do all those things, but after I turned all the lights back off, calmed the baby and put the bed back together, he still wasn't relaxing at all. In fact, he got so worked up that he had to rush to the bathroom to throw up.

Was I weirded out? Definately.

Did he have an explanation? Not really.

Does he do this often? Not really.

Am I going to let him watch semi-scary movies before bed anymore? Absolutely not.

Stuff

I was going to blog just because I felt like it, but now I don't really have anything to say. I'm kindof in a rut where I only blog when I have pictures. But not every significant thing in my life has pictures for it . . . although sometimes I get carried away . . .

My biggest concerns right now:

#1 Potty training Audrey. It's pretty much the worst thing that's ever happened to me (and it seems clear that Audrey hates this part of life also), but I'm ready to do some serious work with her this next week.

#2 Jane is successfully going to sleep in her OWN BED dang it. However, she's trainer herself to wake up in the night still. She's getting too old for this for crying out loud! And when she does wake up, she gets very mad about the fact that she's in her bed and not in ours. SO, that's our next order of business. Yuck.

#3 My sister and her husband are moving in with us (and they'll stay when we leave in November) so I have to clear out the office so they'll have a room. They're trying to transition at the right time since she's pregnant and they're changing jobs and starting school soon. Prepare for a non-stop party. (Or just lots of poker and guitar hero . . . )

#4 My house is always a disaster.

#5 I'm reading a good book right now called The Rythmn of Life (It has a subtitle but, strange as this sounds, I can't read what it says . . . ). It's a really fantastic book about how to become the best version of yourself, living the life you'd always wanted to live. Very good. The title seems peculiar to me though since it doesn't say anything about the rythmn of life or anything like that. But very good.

#6 I have to give a talk on Chastity . . . And I've got nothin'. Don't get me wrong. I think chastity is a good thing, but I can't think of a dang thing to say that hasn't already been said about a brazilian times.

#7 Even worse, I have to give a lesson to the Beehives tomorrow about group dating. ? ? ? Soooo, basically it's going to be a lesson about not dating until you're 16 and what you're supposed to do and not do in the meantime.

#8 Did I mention my house is always a disaster? However, today David was so kind as to steam clean my couches. A big job, yes, and it looks great.

#9 I have a small mountain of clean laudry in the middle of my bedroom floor right now that needs to be put away. And there is no exaggeration when I say "small mountain." I'd take a picture of it if I weren't so ashamed.

#10 We're starting to think about our move and relocation to Dallas. :( It'll be nice for Dave to finally be working and we can start hacking away at the massive school debt we have, but . . . it would just be so lovely to stay here. Out of the question, but lovely. And I always get stressed out when we move, for dang good reason. I'm just not looking forward to it. Perhaps I just need to change my attitude and get good and excited about it.

#11 Audrey still chews her nails until there is nothing left. You people who invented that Thums stuff for kids to stop chewing their nails are full of bologna. I'm going to have to bring out the big guns soon . . .

#12 I got to spend the day (a couple days ago) at the "spa" getting pedicured and manicured, getting my hair conditioned and cut and styled, getting a facial. Great stuff. And it only cost me 32 bucks. Word to the wise, if your husband won't pay for you to go to a real spa, go to the local beauty college and stay until your heart's content. You'll both appreciate it.

#13 I love my bed. It's the best bed ever invented. It's one of those latex, spring-free guys with the pillow top. Heaven. I'll be sleeping in it very soon.

#14 I miss my friends. I got to see a few of them these last couple days, and it really made me start to miss all of them. It's a small tragedy that life has to change so much when things are so good. But, c'est la vie.

#15 I'm really good at Guitar Hero. Just FYI.

#16 We went to a luau hosted by some close family friends, their son is going on a mission to Fort Worth. Anyway, the hula dancers were so good. Audrey LOVED them. She somehow found a grass skirt and all the hula garb (someone clearly outfitted her) and proceeded to stalk the hula girls for the rest of the night . . . into the bathroom, their dressing room, around the cultural hall. They were sweet enough to say goodbye to Audrey waiting in the car to go home while they were working on carrying their things out to go home themselves. She really had a good time. And so did we! Gotta love a party.

#17 Funny. At the beginning of this post I thought I didn't have anything to say. Turns out I was wrong.

The Swedish Fish Experiment

According to a Stanford study, the "key to success" is delayed gratification.

The study (which is NOT a new study at all) took a bunch of kids (age 4-6) and sat them in a room alone, each with a single marshmallow. They were told that they would be left alone for 15 minutes and if they did not eat the marshmallow when the proctor came back, they could have another one. About 1 in 3 of the kids waited the whole 15 minutes. Some of those kids were sorely tempted--licking it, sniffing it (almost hyperventilating). And some, of course, just shoved it in their mouths immediately after the door closed. The study followed up with the kids 15 years later (so they would be about 19-21) and it concluded that there was a high coorelation between the "waiting kids" and certain objective measures of "success," including money earned, grades achieved, etc.

Well, we were curious about Audrey. Terrified. And curious. So we decided to conduct our OWN little experiment. MUUUHHUAAAAAAAAA [cue lightning].

We didn't have marshmallows. And she's not big on them anyway. But we did have a box of large Swedish Fish--you know, the 2 inchers...for serious fish lovers only. We had bought them for the parade but as I posted before, the parade was about 14 seconds long, so we didn't finish the whole box. Anyway, we took her to her room and gave her a fish. We told her that if she waited till we came back and did not eat the fish, she could have another one. We took great pains and much repitition to make sure she understood the concept. In the end, we still were not sure if she got it, or if she was just waiting for the fish in hand and the door closed. She LOVES swedish fish.

We closed the door and waited about 5 minutes (since she's younger than the other kids, and since swedish fish are way better than marshmallows. ;) Then, we went in.

We were SHOCKED to see her standing by the door waiting for us to come back, fish in hand. We could not believe that she had waited 5 minutes alone with the fish. It amazed us.

So, there you have it, Audrey has inherited DAVID's ability to delay gratification to achieve success. Although, David developed this ability later in life. As a 3 year old--even as a 14 year old--David says he definitely would have eaten the fish.

We are proud of our little gratification delayer. She's already a success to us.

It should be noted, however, that--sadly--a few hours after this experiment was conducted, Audrey pushed a chair over to the counter and climbed to where the fish were kept and polished off the rest of the BOX by herself.

Success comes in many forms.

Here's the link to the video of a few of the kids from the Standford study. It's hilarious.

Major Award

Dave entered a legal ethics writing contest a while ago that was hosted by Notre Dame Law School. It was open to all law students at all law schools in the US and Canada. And David won. He found out about it the day he finished the Bar. It was a good day for him. We got the check in the mail last week. Very exciting. We taped the check up in our front window so everyone could see it from the street . . .

Funny Things Audrey's Said

We were riding home one night and we saw some fireworks in the distance. We asked Audrey if she'd seen them. She said, "Yeah! . . . I eat fireworks. I ate them when I was a baby. I was a fire baby."

Audrey was playing quietly by herself in the livingroom. Suddenly she stood up and announced, "I need to go study." Then she marched up to her room and shut the door . . .

When we were in Vegas with our friends, we spent a lot of time with just all of us hanging out in the hotel room. The kids were on one end and the parents on the other. Jane was tormenting the older kids, so Mo (Jared's wife) picked Jane up and started to bring her over to the parents' side. Audrey, very concerned, shouted, "Hey! That's my mommy's baby!"

We were driving along one night on the way home. I asked Audrey what she wanted to be when she grew up. She said, "I'm going to be a taller, Taller, TALLER . . . and taller and taller, and then I'll be a big princess woman." Unfortunately, she'll probably get her wish someday about the taller thing.

Today: Fair Parade and Outing at the Park

Today we just hung out and relaxed in our own house . . . which was great after so much excitment the past couple of weeks.

The Madison County fair started and we watched the cenntenial parade. It was just a lot of horses and wagons and tractors and vintage cars--we're celebrating our agricultural heritage, and this fair is supposed to be "huge." We'll go tomorrow and see what all the fuss is about.

We grabbed some candy from the Walgreen's behind our bench there. That was Jane's position while she watched. She definately has a sweet tooth.

This was a little creepy. I wonder if there's a dead body in there . . .

Ah, small town life. I love it. As we walked to the park David and I were talking about how great this little town really is. We wish we could just stay, but . . . we need to do our time in the big city before we can settle down in a little town like this.

Jane squeezed herself through the gate there and had a little hay day. :)

But Daddy rescued her.

And tossed her into the air, which all damsels love.

She then decided to play in the rocks. Sometimes she would bend down so far she'd just decide to rest her head down for a while.

What a cute baby.

There were lots of little rocks in her diaper when we got home. Notice Audrey in the background climbing that yellow thing? It takes her a million years to get all the way up it, and she goes VERY slowly, but she is very excited and yells "ISN'T THIS FUN!?!" the whole time. Silly girls.

Finding more rocks in the grass.

Moving to a new spot to start the process all over again.

Tonight I decided to finally work with this old shirt I'd set aside for a nightgown for Audrey since she likes it so much (it's got stars all over it). It's been way too small for me for a long time, so I cut a slit in the neck and fed a ribbon through the collar so I could make the neck smaller. Worked like a charm, and looks so cute.