Natural consequences

Lately I have been mulling over how I can allow natural consequences to occur for Clara and enforce logical ones.

Well, yesterday all three of us experienced some real-life examples of what natural consequences can really entail.

The action: Clara took a bite out of a raw jalapeno pepper after being warned they were very hot.

The natural consequence: Severe burning and mouth discomfort for a considerable period of time.

The action: Michael held a burning object in his hand (long story) and then tried to blow it out while still holding it.

The natural consequence: A large, extremely painful burn and blister under his index finger.

The action: I sliced and de-seeded 15+ jalapeno peppers with my bare hands.

The natural consequence: Incredible burning pain for several hours. The ice cold "milk bath" above was just about as painful as the burn itself and only slightly effective.

The action: We hosted a potluck dinner party to celebrate the graduation of our friend, Beth, with her Master's degree in special education. (Beth sits with Clara at church now that I am the chorister and Michael's on the stand and has Clara wrapped around her finger (and vice-versa). She is very encouraging and a good sounding board regarding Clara's challenges.)

The natural consequence: Serious delicious food devouring.

The action: I endured the pain mentioned previously in order to make these bacon/jalapeno/cream cheese appetizers for the occasion.

The natural consequence: Much discussion of the spiciness tolerance levels around the table. Almost all the jalapenos were eaten.

The action: Some friends from church celebrated with us (Beth is the one at the head of the table), including the bishop of our ward and his wife, seated on the right. It might seem a bit odd, but some of our most favorite people in our ward could be our parents. Or grandparents.

The natural consequence: Good-natured frivolity and great conversation.

If you do housework and no one notices, . . .

. . . did it really happen?

This is my take on the whole "if a tree falls in the forest" scenario, and it's a dilemma I've had since I got married. Especially since becoming a stay-at-home mom.


I love being able to stay at home with Clara. It's a tremendous blessing, a luxury that many mothers cannot afford. However, one thing that is hard for me (and I don't think I'm alone in feeling this way) is that I don't have any external indicators of how I'm doing. I thrived on teachers' praise and getting good grades in high school and college. I reveled in approval from my bosses while working during college and after graduation.


Now? No one is there to say, "Excellent job on cleaning the blinds today, Brittany. I also noticed that you read approximately ten stories with your daughter. That gives you a grade of 98.5 on today's exam."

Don't get me wrong; my fabulous husband is very good at complimenting me and thanking me for things I do around the house. But there are still times when I want to shout to the world, "THIS IS WHAT I ACCOMPLISHED TODAY! DOES ANYONE SEE? CAN SOMEONE PLEASE VALIDATE ME AND TELL ME I'M DOING A GOOD ENOUGH JOB?!"

Of course, I try not to do that too often so my neighbors don't report me, so instead I compensate by having a conversation like this:

MICHAEL: How was your day today?

BRITTANY: It was fine. I had so much to do. I woke up at 5:30, read my scriptures, worked out, did two loads of laundry, washed the floor on my hands and knees, cleaned all the cupboards out and washed the cabinetry, and cleaned out the stove and oven. Oh, and I also took Clara to the park and we played CandyLand and school and did play-doh. (NOT A REAL-LIFE EXAMPLE.)


Or, more frequently:


MICHAEL: How was your day today?

BRITTANY: Fine. It was a good day.

MICHAEL: What did you do?

BRITTANY: Um, well, not much, just played with Clara, did stuff, y'know.


Why do I have to list everything that I've done that day and announce it? It's like I feel that (1) if I didn't accomplish a ton of things--housework, activities with Clara, etc.--then my day was all for naught; and/or (2) if I don't tell someone about them, I might as well have not even done them! I feel like I'm fishing for compliments.

Oh wait, I am fishing for compliments.


This sometimes spills into doing works of service--feeling like I need to share with Michael what charitable deed I performed that day in order to think to myself, "Gee, aren't I a great person?"

Michael reminded me that of course, God knows, and all our works are recorded and will one day be shown to all. But that's a lot of delayed gratification.

I am not sure what the answer is, but in the meantime, I have decided to try any and/or all of the following:

1. Try not to tell my husband all the things that I did that day (or at least not for the wrong reasons)
2. Blog daily about what housework and childcare duties I performed (hmmm, not sure how that would affect my readership)
3. Pray about it and tell the Lord (too obvious)
4. Write it in my journal (so I can brag to my posterity?)
5. Write my to-do list on the fridge and check it off so that Michael can see what I've done that day without my having to say anything (probably wouldn't keep up with it)
6. Relish quietly and humbly the good feelings that come from serving the Lord and my family and doing my duty (way too hard)

Any other possibilities I'm missing?


Oh, wait, I forgot! I have another option: don't do any housework at all. Duh! Why didn't I think of that before? See, this whole thinking out loud thing is very helpful.

Thanks for listening.

Satisfaction is . . .

Hope.

Progress.

A new issue of the Friend.


Homemade bread.

Homemade bread sliced with an electric knife.

Three different kinds of dark chocolate candy.

A clean car.

Dead slugs.

Cinco de Mayo!

I threw a Cinco de Mayo girl's night dinner party last night. It was mucho bueno.

Muchas buenas? Muy bien? Can you tell I don't speak Spanish and have absolutely no justifiable reason to celebrate this holiday? Hey, who cares . . . I'll use any excuse to throw a shindig. (I had some serious deja vu.)

Aren't these sunflowers lovely? I'm hoping they'll last through Mother's Day.

Sweet Emilee building her quesadilla. I got the "build your own quesadilla bar" idea here and expanded on it a little.

There were two cheeses, black beans, tomatoes, and sauteed portobello mushrooms, red onions, and red and green bell peppers. And some other dishes, too. This dip was a big hit.

Cari, Chelsea, and Ashleigh were thrilled I was taking their picture with their mouths full of food.

I'm all about the action shots.

Tamara and Maggie, enjoying the outdoors before the drizzling began.

Cute pregnant Lindsay.

After dinner, we enjoyed a close game of Taboo. And of course, we topped the night off with (store-bought) fried ice cream and homemade brownies.


Thanks for winning against the French army, Mexican soldiers of 1862. You made last night possible.

Hmmm, I've never heard that version before . . .

I love hearing the versions of song lyrics that kids invent. My own personal example of this is that for several years (and I'm ashamed to recall how old I was) I thought the song by Sonny and Cher was "I've Got Heat Wave" instead of "I've Got You Babe."

Here is Clara's version of Yankee Doodle:



The lyrics translated:

Yankee doodle went to town
Riding on a pony
Stuck a feather in his hat
And called it macaroni.

(Here's where it morphs)

Gangkee doodle keep it up
Gangkee doodle gang-ee
Mind the music and the steps
And let the girls be handy.

Beer works

Just thought I'd get your attention.


A few weeks ago, Michael and I purchased a couple of flats of flowers for our front beds--zinnias and petunias. A few days ago, I noticed that the petunias were getting eaten alive. Literally.

After intense research (read: Google), I determined that the heartless criminals were either earwigs and/or slugs. I went to Lowe's with the expectation of purchasing some sort of fancy pesticide or trap, but when I learned of the possibility for pet fatalities (our neighbors have a roaming dog and cats), I decided to opt for the more homeopathic and only slightly less sophisticated method: beer in a cup.

Considering the fact that I have never drunk alcohol, not to mention purchased it, I felt somewhat uncomfortable as a good ole' Mormon girl with the idea of going to Kroger and buying some.

So we did what any good teetotalers would do: we asked a nice neighbor. (Didn't you know all teetotalers have good relationships with their neighbors?) Fortunately, he happened to have a couple of cans of Guinness on hand, and he didn't mind sharing the love.

(Excuse the blurriness--I used the "night" feature outside.) The very aesthetic cottage cheese container contains canola oil and soy sauce, which one website said will lure and then drown ear wigs. We've since decided that we have mostly slugs, but I figured I might as well leave it out there.

Placed carefully throughout our lovely flowers are alternating cups of canola oil and beer. This one is beer (it's still foamy). Do you see the eaten leaf on the right plant? (Sniff.)

This morning, when I went out to--gulp--check the cups, I found about 10 slugs. I also killed three more that I found with salt. I thought about taking a shot of the dead slugs, but then I realized that there might be pregnant women reading this blog, and I'd hate to be the one to induce any unnecessary vomiting.

'Cuz it was really gross.

Fortunately, it did work, so hopefully those two cans of beer will keep us in the slug-killing business for awhile.

In the meanwhile, we can enjoy our back porch:

Bougainvillea (on the left) is one of my favorites. The other two are Calibrachoa--trailing petunias. They're pretty nice, too. Let's hope they aren't attacked by anything (although, even as I'm writing this, I think the white one has white flies or something . . . sigh).

And if all else fails, we can let our frustrations out by playing jaw tug-o-war with a popsicle stick.

Band-aids ain't for sissies

In the last thirty-six hours, Clara has managed to get a large goose egg on her head (courtesy of an accidental golf club swing by a five-year-old boy), a burned and blistered index finger (from a flaming hot pizza pan), and two scraped knees (requiring four band-aids in total). Ah, to be a four-year-old . . .

The toughest part for Clara is getting Band-aids put on. Like most kids, she loves Band-aids, but she does not like having them on her skin. I'm figuring it's another sensory thing (she prefers to put them on Mr. Bear). So while the actual accident--in this case, the trip and subsequent knee abrasions--is painful, the treatment is almost more so. After I manage to get the Band-aids on her, she can ignore them but asks periodically to have them taken off (sometimes with great distress). Poor kid!

All I can say is I hope that she doesn't grow up with her mother's fabulous depth perception . . . it seems I am constantly running into door jambs or stubbing my toes. Ah, to be a grown-up . . .

A curiosity

Perhaps those of you familiar with Provo will recognize this very singular feature on the landscape of University Avenue.

Yes, it is, I believe, a cell phone tower. Michael and I always laugh whenever we see these, and I just have to ask, WHY?

Why do they dress it up like a tree, when it is so obviously such an unsuccessful disguise? If they really wanted to make it blend in, they could have at least remembered that in nature, branches aren't usually perfectly symmetrical.

I see them everywhere--and I'm sure you have, too--and I just think to myself, C'mon, cell phone tower builder people! It's far uglier, in my humble opinion, as a wannabe tree than it is as an honest-to-goodness ugly tower of metal.


Anyway, just curious if any of you have noticed the same thing. Or perhaps you side with the cell phone tower builder people and can be the devil's advocate in this very serious, earth-shaking discussion.

A catch-up post

This is very tardy--that's a fancy word for late (name that book), but I realized that I didn't finish posting pics from my trip to Utah (the one where I went to the Women's Retreat). So this is mostly for my family's (and Liesl's) benefit, in case any of them read the blog.

Some of my six siblings--Adam, me, Heather, and Bryan. I have to admit that I think all my brothers and my sister are pretty darn good-looking.

My niece, Grace. I am so excited for their trip out here to GA in June . . . I can't wait to get to know her and my other nieces and nephews better!

My marvelous sister-in-law, Wendi, and two of her kids, Alison and Eliot (Elliott? Elliot? Sorry I can't remember!).

My nephew, Duncan, and my niece, Caroline, enjoying homemade Oreos courtesy of their older sister, Catherine (I love those cookies!).

My brother-in-law, John, de-feathering, er, skinning, er, cleaning pheasants from his morning hunt. Can you tell I don't hunt? He treated us to some sort of delicious meat later--perhaps elk, I can't recall--that was divine.

My sister's three sweet daughters: Elizabeth, Caroline, and Catherine.

My brother Bryan with his kids, Grace and Clay.

I also was thrilled to be able to catch up with one of my dearest high school friends, Liesl, while I was out there. Isn't she lovely? I only wish that we had had more time together . . . please fly out for our tenth high school reunion, Liesl!

Liesl has twin girls--Ava and Lola--who are, need I say?, adorable.

Hanging out with Ava and Lola.

a Joyful reunion

During my trip up to Williamsburg with my parents, I got to stay a couple of days with one of my old BYU roommates, Joy. It was SO good to see her and her sweet baby and husband. They were such gracious hosts--Amelia tolerated Clara stealing her toys--and we had a great time. We visited a fun children's art exhibit, a yummy organic pizza place, and the park. We also enjoyed a mean game of Rummikub at Family Home Evening.

Amelia's first playground swing experience.

I haven't seen one of these for a while!

Amelia has to be one of the smiliest babies on the planet.

Thanks again for the visit, Joy. Hope to see you again soon!

Williamsburg, Virginia

When Michael was gone for nearly two weeks to Arizona for a wire-bending course, I took my parents up on their invitation to let me tag along with them on their trip up to Virginia for Spring Break. They did some family history work--discovering that we are direct descendants of Pocahontas and John Rolfe (can't you see the family resemblance?)--in Richmond and outlying areas, and we also did a little sight-seeing.

Williamsburg proper, where the College of William and Mary is located, is a very charming college town with lots of beautiful old architecture and fun shops. Did you know that the College of William and Mary was founded in 1693? Pretty cool.

Some of the shops sold beautiful historic colonial clothing, as well as lots of other period items. Isn't the little girl's dress sweet?

A delightful candy store there where they make some candy from scratch--the caramel apples looked amazing--and sell other old-fashioned candies.

Michael saw the pic above and he said, "Is that all the chocolate you ate?" In my dreams . . .

(SIDE NOTE: I could kick myself for not getting a Cadbury egg while I was there. I went to the store in the hopes of getting one after the holidays and they were all gone. Curses! Now my Easter celebrations feel hopelessly incomplete.)

On the grounds of the Governor's Mansion of historic Williamsburg. We went there to hear George Washington speak.

This woman is a weaver. All the yarn is hand-dyed. I also visited the milliner (dress-maker, hat-maker), a cooper (bucket-maker), a silversmith, a wig-maker (did you know the women who had wigs shaved their heads as well?!), the apothecary, the basketmaker, and the wheelwright. These are real people doing real trades--they even do work for other museums, like the one at Mount Vernon. Okay, I take that back--I don't think the apothecary was for real. At least I hope it wasn't.

The "greenhouses" in the colonial garden.

Gorgeous weather!

The entire town is preserved or restored in a wonderful way, and the pastures interspersed throughout provide a charming effect.

It's a lovely place.