She and I have been enjoying some serious mother-daughter bonding time.
Things I love about Elsa:
Her hair. Baby mullets are fabulous.
That she has no qualms about belching as loud as she can. I love an uninhibited soul. Well, her uninhibited soul.
Eyes the color of denim.
Quivery little chin.
Monkey toes! I think she could definitely wrap her toes around a tree. A very, very small tree.
Soft breathing noises. Sounds like the coo of a dove.
Slinging her around. Most of the time.
She’s filling out, but is still small enough that she isn’t breaking my back.
Lovely little dresses. With contrasting diaper covers.
How unconcerned she is about her baby acne.
How concerned she is about everything else.
Little brother Nate starts school at BYU on Monday. He’s the 11th of 11 from my family to attend the BYU. My sister and I were given the job of moving him into his dorm since my parents are at Jess’s wedding reception in Oregon.
We gave him the royal treatment: a tour of campus, lunch at L&T Produce, two nieces dressed for the occasion, and a couple of scoops of blue and white ice cream from the creamery to top it off.
Remember, Nate, cougars don’t cut corners!
Another wedding! Another in-law! Another cute young couple! We’re so happy for Jess and Derek. Aren’t they gorgeous?
Elsa and her cousin Lydia rocked it in their little dresses and red flowers.
As you can see, Elsa was a little bit concerned about stealing attention from the bride and groom, so she spent most of the day hiding under the nursing cover. Lucky me. If she doesn’t weigh 20 pounds by the time we get back to New York, it won’t be for lack of trying. That’s for sure.
I suppose we should count ourselves lucky that we made it 5 years in New York City before we had anything stolen. We know people who haven’t even made it a week. And, I’m sure, there are people who live here for decades without having their belongings snitched from their personal space. Sadly, we are not one of those people.
We went to the city on Saturday to participate in Summer Streets (where they open up Park Ave. and Lafayette Ave. to bikes and runners and there are all sorts of fun things going on along the street – like the climbing wall we were hoping to climb, but didn’t because we got there just as they were taking it down). Somewhere along the line my phone was plucked from the diaper bag. The culprit turned it off so we couldn’t track it using the “Find My Phone” app. Blah.
I feel a little silly because I saw signs in the subway warning people that phone theft is on the rise and to be careful, but I thought that nobody would look in the diaper bag and see the little homemade bag I keep my phone in and think there was anything worth stealing in there, so I didn’t put it in a zippered pocket. And because I didn’t do that, I lost my contacts, my camera, the book I was reading, the games the boys like to play among other things. It’s really the loss of the camera that burns me, of course. I use that way more than I use the phone.
Today I got a cheap phone to replace my “real” phone until November when Micah gets a phone upgrade and we won’t have to pay $500+ for a new one. But I only have one contact in my phone, and that is Micah. So don’t be offended if I don’t know who you are when you call or text. This is only the 4th time I’ve had to start over with my contacts in the past two years . . . way to go Me.
We haven’t forgotten about the name game, but we haven’t gotten around to scoring it yet, either. If all goes well we’ll have it done before I go to Utah next week. Stay tuned!
Five years ago we drove a rented Ford Explorer through the Holland Tunnel, down Canal Street and across the Brooklyn Bridge. It was 2:00 in the morning and the car was so filled with our belongings that there was hardly room for three-month-old Simon.
We found our apartment, found a place to park, and spent the next hour hauling all of our stuff up two flights of stairs that looked and felt as though they might crumble under our weight. We were soaked through with humidity induced sweat when we finally collapsed on the floor to sleep.
The next day we drove to IKEA, bought a bed, a couch a crib, a table and chairs, a couple of bookcases. We assembled our furniture. We started unpacking. That night a thunderstorm rolled in. I woke up with a start that night at the sound of thunder.
In the morning we braved New York City traffic to return our rental car, then descended into the subway to find that tunnels were flooded, trains were behind schedule, and we were entirely overwhelmed by the prospect of getting home. Our branch president and his wife visited us later that day. “Buy yourselves a couple of fans,” they said as we all sat sweating in our air-conditionless apartment. I had never been so miserably sweaty in my entire life. The humidity was unreal.
But we survived. And even thrived. Since then we’ve moved twice, added two more kids to our family, held a couple of full-time jobs and freelanced for periods as well.
We’ve trained for races and pushed our kids countless times around Prospect Park training for those races. We’ve cursed public transportation (and our reliance on it) and thanked our lucky stars that we don’t need a car.
We’ve tromped through piles of snow and felt the shake of an earthquake. We’ve worked through a graduate program and attempted to navigate the New York City school system (jury’s still out on whether we’ve succeeded or not).
The thought of leaving this place is both a dream and a nightmare. But whichever it is when that time comes, we’ll be glad for the time we’ve spent here.