Four.

Kiki=Four.

(Gasp.)

It's not possible. It truly doesn't seem to be, anyway. The memory of her actual birth day still seems so fresh in my mind, but maybe all the drugs I was mainlining that day have enhanced my memory a little. Which is ironic, since the four years following have gone by in a blur.

Her birthday fell on a Sunday, which was a good excuse to celebrate all weekend.

We started on Friday night with our friends the Wolfley's and Wynn's. We went to Asian Star and then the U of U gymnastics meet. We were late to the meet, somewhat intentionally, but we won't be next time because my kids were FASCINATED.

Janet and Alexis.

Saturday was Janet's little boy Kyle's 5th birthday, and since we didn't tire of each other on Friday, we just kept hanging out. We went to lunch (because it's Saturday) at Mi Ranchito.

All I want is a picture of the birthday girl with her family and she gave me nothing but grief.

See her head poking out by Kate?

I guess technically I got what I wanted, then.

Kyle said to Kiki, "It's our birthday. I'm the birthday boy and you are the birthday girl."

Kiki replied, "Okay, then let's not hate each other."

She has her mother's sentimental nature.

We went ice skating too.

Kate and Lex were eager to get suited up and get going.

Bruce's face gives his real feeling away.

Fortunately, the kids seem oblivious.

Kiki spent some time down here.

This is what my face looks like when someone is pressing their nose into my bum crack.

And, no, that's not a punchline or a cute turn of phrase: look close.

We started to get the hang of things.

Kiki was worn out. When we left ice skating she said, "I'm tired of being the birthday girl...I just want to be a regular girl..." in a sleepy sleepy voice.

Kate was desperate to give Kiki an amazing birthday. She made her cards, and a huge banner, and on Kiki's birthday morning, Kate came into the bedroom with a big blanket saying, "...so what I'm going to do is put this blanket over ALL of Kiki's presents and then when she goes into the living room she won't see them and what I'll do after that is WHIP! off the blanket and we will all say SURPRISE!" She'd clearly put a lot of thought into it.

Kate also wanted to make sure that one of the birthday presents was from her alone, and I had bought a Barbie doll and an outfit with that exact same notion in mind, but Kate felt that was unacceptable, and she pestered and pestered until I caved and let Kate "give" Kiki the alpha gift:

The Barbie Cruise Ship.

She was really jazzed about all of it.

My family came to Sunday dinner to celebrate- Kiki was thrilled and I think she is too young to realize how completely awesome it is to have a family who will come and spoil a kid with time and presents just because she's four. I know how awesome it is though, and we really appreciate it.

This is a note for posterity:

Dear Kiki: If you think you can blame me for this insane hairstyle, you can think again. You did this to yourself, and I swear to you that if you ever bring scissors to your hair again I will make you pay and pay dearly. That said, I love you lots. Also, being a beautician is not in your future. It has to be said. Love, your mother.


Kiki wanted a cherry pie AND a chocolate cake for her birthday. Because she spoiled, I homemade the cherry pie. Because I'm not completely insane, the cake was store bought.

This was going to be a really good picture until Dave stuck out his camera at the last second.

I bet HIS picture turned out really good though.

After everyone left, things got a little kinky.

About my four year old girl:

Kiki's humor is a frequent topic on this blog, and her birthday weekend was no different.

#1:

Kate and I got in a little discussion. The topic is not important but things did get a little tense. Kiki interrupted us saying, "Guys! Guys! Let's just talk about caterpillars!"

#2:

Kiki has a wart on her hand. I've recently started treating it with Compound W and it is kind of turning brown. (I've no idea if this is what is supposed to happen or not. If this answer is "not" how about one of you all shoot me a little warning?) On the way home from church yesterday, Kate said to Kiki, "Your wart is REALLY BROWN," in a disgusted tone of voice. Kiki casually replied, "Yeah. Probably it's going to grow a big long hair. Then it'll be like (at this point she waved her little wart hand in my face), 'HELLOOOOOOOO LADIES!"

#3

We've been working on her not saying "Hell." It's my fault. I say it all the time but I'm working on it. She said to me the other day, "I know I should say oh my heck but I think it's funner to say oh my hell."

Kiki is one of the happiest kids around. She loves to play with her farm and her animals and her dolls. I love to listen in on her playing because her pretend conversations are very enlightening. She loves to eat macaroni and cheese, scrambled eggs, and cottage cheese. She loves the library and Spongebob. Her favorite clothes are shorts and tank tops. She had her first pedicure last week and thought it was stupid. She sings all of the time. I hope her fifth year is as much sheer fun as the years previous have been.

Quadruple Piercing

Kate decided she wanted her ears pierced. I've never had a set age in mind that I wanted the girls to wait for to have their ears pierced. I know some think 8 years, some say 12, and I've always thought, "Who cares? Whenever they want." Kate wanted. I spent a day or two "educating" her about what was to happen, and Wednesday we went to the mall to have it done.

While we were there, Kiki said she wanted her ears pierced too, so I figured I might as well get the 6 weeks of ear cleaning over with all at once. I did tell her that it was going to hurt, that she had to watch Kate get it done first, and that if she got one ear pierced, no matter how bad it hurt, she was sucking it up and getting the second one done.

Kate was a trooper. She whimpered a little but no tears.

Kiki flipped. She was really crying, but she sat tight and took it, just like she had promised she would. Although, when the gal who pierced Kiki's ears for her picked up a hand mirror and asked Kiki if she wanted to see her earrings, Kiki said, "NO!" and her tone clearly insinuated that she thought the ear-piercing woman was a real bitch.

Waffle cones soothed frayed nerves and now they are both extremely pleased with their new jewelry.

Too Late To Do The Right Thing?

On our long drive home from Phoenix on New Year's Day, Bruce and I spent quite a bit of time talking about what goals we had for ourselves, both individually and as a couple, in the new year. Two of the goals we set were financial: We wanted to increase the amount in our emergency savings by $5000, and we wanted to pay off our Sequoia as soon as possible.

When we arrived home I began sorting the two weeks' worth of mail our neighbor had collected for us, and among it was a plain white envelope from Bruce's business partner/former close friend. (To recap, Bruce started a business with a friend a couple of years ago and I guess the fact that I just called him "former" should clue you in to the fact that things didn't end well. We were bought out for an amount significantly less than what we felt we were owed, but the relationship between the two of them had gotten so bad that we just wanted to get the hell out.) I jokingly said to Bruce, ""You've an envelope here from R, so I guess we are getting sued or something."

Bruce opened it. Shockingly, and I do mean SHOCKINGLY, the envelope included a brief note and a check. The note was only a couple of lines long and said something along the lines of, "At the time we split I didn't know if the business was going to survive so I couldn't pay you, but here it is now. Hope all is well." You could have knocked me over with a feather. The check was for the difference between what we were paid and what we felt we were owed at the time of the buyout: an amount that allowed us to get our savings account exactly where we wanted and pay off all but $1000 of the truck.

Let me say a few things about this: This man was under no legal obligation to pay us this money. We signed a contract saying we sold our portion of the business for an agreed upon amount and he paid us that. Did we think we deserved more? Yes. But we were the ones who had decided that it was better to take the offered amount and be done with a situation that was painful and ugly. We haven't gone about feeling like he "owed" us anything, and as we have looked back on the situation our attitude has been "Well, there's something that didn't go quite as planned," and not "That bastard really screwed us over." I don't think either Bruce and I continued to hold any anger over the financial part of the transaction.

Although, let's be perfectly honest: The emotional part of the transaction, because it was a friendship, has been a little more complicated. Bruce felt like one of his closest friends turned on him; put a price on the friendship; valued money more than a person who had been in his life for a decade. So while the loss of the money stung for a little while, the manner in which the friendship dissolved has been significantly painful for my husband. I don't know if I'm a total hypocrite for trying to say these two things together, but A) I'm not angry at this guy, and B) I think he is a Class A Jackass. It's just a fact. Like that he has brown hair. It's just how he is and maybe he can't help it. There's no use being mad about it, but I also can't forget how horrible this was for Bruce.

I also have to say though, that we are really grateful for this unexpected gift. I appreciate that this man thought back on this situation and tried to make it right. That took some courage on his part, courage that I don't know I would have had were our positions reversed. We did not expect this in a million years and the money has been put to excellent use for us. We expected our financial goals to take all year to reach and we have been given a way to reach those goals before the first month is even out. It feels like a blessing and I suppose I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

While grateful, though, it still doesn't feel like things have been made right. I'm a jerk for even saying that, I guess, but I feel like the worst part of the whole situation was the conduct of a friend, and that's something money can't fix.

Kiki's First Dance Recital and Kate's Last Dance Recital

Friday and Saturday night Kate and Kiki had their dance recitals. Kate has been a proven performer, but I knew Kiki could go either way, so I started bribing her early in the week (with Squinkies, in case you're curious as to what it takes to guarantee her compliance).

They were very excited to get to wear makeup. I even let them wear eyeliner, so that was a Big Deal. Kate and I agreed that this would be her last recital: she has been in both dance and gymnastics and I wanted her to choose her favorite. She chose gymnastics, and I think that was a good choice on her part. She really loves gymnastics a lot, and I think she's progressing better in gymnastics anyway.

But, she's learned some dance skills for sure.

Grandpa Jack and Grandma Kay gave them real live flowers.

For a mere $35 a month, plus a costume fee, plus a recital fee, plus the cost of shoes, tights, and leotards, your child can learn the grace and carriage of a dancer:

Money well spent, I say!

Kate was a turtle and a flower.

Kiki was a baby clam and a hedgehog (The theme of the recital was Alice in Wonderland).

Maggie is the 3rd from the left.

Totally synchronized.

Kate as a flower: she's about dead center.

Kiki as a hedghog: she's on the right end.

Big finish.

Really. It was a big finish.

They both did great. We are very proud of them.

As For the Other One...

So Kiki comes up to me holding this little baby black lamb toy that she is "feeding" with a toy bottle, and gives me one of those looks that moms give each other when they are about to tell a story that starts with the phrase "Get a load of this..." and says: "I have to feed this baby TWICE a day. Morning. And. Night." Then she sighed and walked away.

*******

We were in the car on the way home from Target, and Kiki asked why only ladies could have babies. (I should preface the rest of the story with this: I have made a solemn vow with myself that whatever my kids ask regarding reproduction that they will get the straight up age appropriate truth. No storks here.) So I told her about uteruses- that they were special places that babies had to grow in and only women had them. Inevitably she wanted to know how babies got OUT of the uterus. So I said, "Women have a special hole between their legs and that's where the baby comes out."

Long pause. Like a LOOOOOONG pause. Then she says:

"Like a puppet."

Push. Or Maybe It's Pull.

I wish it was possible to explain how confusing motherhood can be. For seemingly all issues, there is a RIGHT way and a WRONG way to address them, and there will be those who swear the RIGHT way is the only way, and those who swear the RIGHT way screwed their kid for life, and those who swear the WRONG way is in actuality the RIGHT way. I seriously feel like I have been blundering along for seven years now with no damn idea about what I have done, what I am currently doing, or what I plan to do in the future.

I feel no different than a rat in a maze- I might be forced to go one way sometimes, but when faced with a parenting choice, unless blatantly obvious (like "Smoke or Don't smoke?" or "Sex at 13, Yes or No?" or "Should Kate drop out of elementary school?"), I think, 'I don't know! I think I'll just stumble to the left for a minute and hope things turn out..." and seem to lack the powers of prediction that would allow me to know if that stumble to the left will later result in a kid who is the president or a kid who is in the clink.

Case in Point: I Name it "THE CLINGER."
My Kate is a sweet soul, yet incredibly shy. I have probably held her back by even labeling her in such a way, and even though I thought I was doing it in secret, she refers to herself as shy very regularly. I have encouraged her to make friends at school, and we have made some good progress, but many days she still eats lunch alone. What has been frustrating to me is that the girls in her class have been SO NICE to her. They have told her they want to be her friend, they have asked her to play, etc. But at lunch time she can't work up the nerve to go sit by any of them. She doesn't seem bothered by this, only me. Frankly, if she was bothered, I'd probably be having a psychotic episode about now. I have encouraged her and pushed her and tried to give her some friendship "tools." ("Tell her you think her shoes are cute or compliment her hair. People love compliments!" I say with this fake smile on my face to Kate like it is going to be so fun and easy but deep in my heart I'm know that this is NOT FUN OR EASY for her and I hate that I am making it seem so simple.) I have told her that these girls have plainly said that they want to be her friend so sitting by them at lunch or playing with them at recess is a risk-free situation for her- it's like the elementary school equivalent of asking the school slut to prom- the desired outcome is all but guaranteed. I have asked her to think about how these girls must feel. "Kate," I said, "What if you told a really nice girl that you wanted her to be your friend, and then she never spoke to you again? Because that's what happened here." And I've tried to get her thinking that she could be a good friend to someone who really needs her. It's desperate reframing on my part: "Maybe you don't feel like you need a friend, but someone out there really needs YOU to be THEIR friend."

Friday was the worst. My nerves have been a little frayed all week- worrying for Kate, the stress of returning from vacation and having a heinous week, our car had broken down. I was snapped long before the sun ever rose Friday morning. I went to Kate's class for my regular volunteering shift, and when I left, Kate had a complete breakdown. She cried and cried that she wanted me to stay, she wanted me to hold her, she wanted me to take her home. And the rat didn't know what to do: take her home and cuddle her up or tell her to suck it up and leave with no backwards glances. Reality wound up somewhere in the middle- with the remainder of her class in computers, her beloved teacher was free to offer a little one on one attention while I left with minimum drama. Later that day was a birthday party for a girl in Kate's class- Kate had been looking forward to it all week- we had picked out a present and everything. When we pulled in to the driveway the birthday girl ran outside and starting jumping up and down screaming, "Kate's here! Kate's here!" Signs looked good! I walked her in and she knew every girl there. I spent a minute getting her settled and left, but wasn't even to the car door before she came running after me crying. She wanted to go home with me. I made some incredibly lame excuse for her and we left together, but I was really frustrated with her.

I just don't know what to do at this point. I worry that my parenting efforts have completely backfired and she wants friends less and less and me more and more. I worry that my desperation for her to make friends is creating a kid who can't make friends. Every day when the first question I ask her is, "Who did you eat lunch with today?" I want to kick my own self in the rear and scream at myself, "ASK ABOUT ACADEMICS, YOU IDIOT." I feel like I am not sending the right message, but I can't stop myself from worrying that she is going to become an isolated and lonely kid. There's also another part of me that thinks I should push her away just a little- let her cry it out a little and see that things are fine even when I am not in the immediate proximity. I'm at such a loss- I don't even know what to do at this point. All I know is what I have been doing hasn't been working at all and my gut instincts have all but given up on me.

Adventures in Media

Maybe you think I've given up on the Pulitzer's since it has been a while since there's been any action over there. I haven't. It's just that my most recent undertaking took quite some time to finish, and I had to keep reading things I actually liked in between the chapters just to remind myself that I actually enjoy literature.

The book I refer to is "The Mambo Kings Sing Songs of Love." Allow me to describe it this way: It's "American Pie" only Cubans. And the 1940's. Other than that, pretty much the same. And therefore, not worth reading. In fact, I turned it into the library before I finished it, and when I re-checked it out to wrap things up, my bookmark was still in place.

However, my "break" books lately have been extremely rewarding. Here's a little list and my reviews in a nutshell.

These Is My Words: A fictional journal of an Arizona settler. It was so good that I stayed up late into the night reading and missed a workout the next early morning. And you thought NOTHING could keep me from a workout...

Freedom: Okay. I really liked it, but only read if you have a high threshold for profanity. I wish authors (apart from Stephanie Meyer, boo.), did not feel the need to have their characters swear constantly. The story however, was a riveting tale, and the words used to describe people and relationships were beautiful.

Refuge: This is on my top 10 lifetime reads. So very, very touching.

Andy Catlett: It's Wendell Berry so of course I loved it.

Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk: I am a huge fan of David Sedaris, but unless your sense of humor is extremely dark, you will find this book disgusting. I found the book laugh out loud hilarious. Most will not.

Where Men Win Glory: I love a Jon Krakauer book. I think he is, without exception, incredibly well researched. This book is the story of Pat Tillman, and unless you want to go to your grave thinking happy thoughts about George Bush, it is a must read.

I'm not just a book nerd, either. We saw Tangled and True Grit recently, and both are worth seeing at full price movie ticket rates. I also took the girls to see Yogi Bear while we were in Phoenix (Bruce went to a funeral instead) and I'm glad I took a book light. In fact, we all might have been better off at the funeral.

More of Our December To Remember

We spent the time between Christmas and New Year's bonding with Bruce's family.

There were a lot of dogs.

We had lots of fun though.

We spent New Year's Eve with Bruce's mom and dad. It was a farewell of sorts, since Bruce's parents have purchased a new home and will be moving soon.

The drive home was uneventful, which was good news after all the terrible weather we've been experiencing. The girls started off with ear-splitting bickering, but I told them, "You two are not allowed to say a sentence that begins with the others' name!" That rule bought me about 10 minutes of silence before they started in with, "MOM, Kiki is backwashing!" and "MOM, Kate won't share!" I don't understand why they never call on Bruce to solve these affairs. Also, I love the word "Mom" as long as it's only one syllable. As soon as some whiner drags it out to 2 or 3 syllables I just want to hurt someone.

We came home Saturday night, just in time for me to minimally prepare for church. The first Sunday of the year is pretty much a nightmare for any Primary President, but things seemed to go okay. Yesterday was our first day back to reality, and it went a little rough.

Kiki summed it up in her nightly prayers:

"Heavenly Father: Today was a LOOOOONG day. Amen."

December to Remember

December flew by in such a hurry that I think I had high blood pressure the entire month. I often find myself wondering why every company, church, and assorted other groups insist on holding their party/get-together/concert in December. I admit that a certain amount of holiday festivities are quite enjoyable, but I must be more easily overwhelmed than most. I happily avoided hosting any Primary party and pushed my piano recital to February.

Much of my month was spent at the piano bench. I may not have mentioned that soon after my dust-up with the director of the men's choir that I played for I was completely vindicated- the error perceived to be on my part was actually an error on the part of the bass section. After all the build-up though, to be so easily proven right was a little anti-climactic. My three concerts with the men went off without too many hitches, and the check cleared the bank, so I think all parties were satisfied in the end. I was also satisfied that it was...the end.

My attentions were then turned to my mom's high school choir concert. I was unable to devote the amount of time necessary for 100% accuracy, so when the piano at the concert was a severely out-of-tune Yamaha, I was pleased. Because it was a Yamaha, the touch felt somewhat similar to my piano at home, which was great for my level of comfort, and because it was out of tune, my "clunkers" weren't so very obvious. It was the answer to my (slacker's) prayers.

My last musical hurdle was "The Hallelujah Chorus" mere hours before we were due to leave town. I'll be honest- I have played it better than I played it in church that Sunday, but only in the privacy of my home, so maybe that doesn't count. But, I think people liked it, and the choir sounded good. I selfishly prayed for perfect performances throughout the month, and never really achieved one, yet people praised nonetheless. I think sometimes answers to prayers come through the back door- instead of making me perfect, He softened the hearts of those on the receiving end of the performances so they thought what they were getting was perfect. And that's okay, too.

The day before we left, we celebrated Christmas with my mom and Grandma.

The whole family was there. It had been a while since all five of us kids were together, and it felt really good.

I do have a few more pics of Phoenix to post, but those will have to be separate.