pout-free and loving it.

I have invested far too much time contemplating what I do/don't want this blog to be. Because of it, no entry ever felt just right to me. My mind just never fully wrapped itself around this identity, of who I was and what this blog was to represent. Luckily, something recently helped me make those decisions I can belabor all too much: I just learned that Blurb now has the ability to slurp from blogger, easily building cheap, beautiful books from the text and images of a blog. I've been waiting so long for this feature I'd forgotten all about it! It has renewed my desire to post in our family blog -- and also gave me a beautiful, single purpose: Now my blog can act as the only sort of family journal we'll probably ever have.

So, if you get sick of posts about one abnormally cute little girl, one wonderful husband, and one generally abnormal momma, this might not be the blog for you. In other words, I will be regularly blogging about the wonderful bits of our family life. It doesn't mean we don't have our down days, but the good days do vastly outnumber the bad, and when this is all my children have to understand their childhood, I want it to reflect the joy they bring me. If any entry ever sounds braggish -- which is something I abhor with every fiber I possess -- please understand, it's not written to make others feel slighted or inferior. It's not written for others at all. It's to let my children know, somewhere down the line, of their accomplishments. Those small steps, I feel it urgently important for them to know, were noticed and celebrated.

--- End bizarre informational section ---

Betsy is always cute -- what mother thinks otherwise? -- but dang, she gets cuter and cuter as her vocabulary grows and she can really express herself. In the strain of my friend Catherine, I've decided to start including Betsyisms.

*This morning Betsy was snuggling in bed with me and I heard her sigh. "Are you okay?" I asked, "Are you sad?"
"Yes," she said, quite seriously. I asked her why.
"Want Daddy." she moaned.
"Where is he?" I asked.
"Wook," she replied.

*At night when I put her to bed, we sing songs. Several weeks ago she started asking for her personal favorite, "Daddy Home" (I'm So Glad When Daddy Comes Home.) Well, it didn't take long before "Daddy Home" had turned into "Daddy... Poppy... Home" and a few days after that, it was "Daddy... Poppy... Jesus Home."

*As I was typing this, she opened the drawer where I keep the oven mitts. She put one on her hand and motioned me away, saying "Move back!" just like I tell her when I open the oven.

*She also started asking me to sing her "Jenny" at night. Considering she doesn't know a single Jenny, I had no idea where this came from. Finally, a few nights later, it hit me: She was asking for one of her other favorite songs: Genealogy.

*Several weeks ago she was sitting in the back of the car listing off several of her friends names, followed by "no." (We can only guess why.) "Max? ...No. Bannon? No."
"How about Rhett?" I asked.
"Rhett. Rhett coot (cute.) Honk, honk."

*She likes to count, but often skips four and consistently skips seven. But boy, does she love it!

*I was at the computer the other day and found that Betsy was no longer running around, but had climbed all the way up and was now sitting on the island. I watched her closely, and moments later, she dropped something off of it. "I get it," she declares enthusiastically, and climbed back down to retrieve it. How -- and when -- did she learn that skill?

*The other night as I was putting her to sleep, she was talking to me as she drifted further and further from wakefulness. Her words: "Pretty, pretty..." (as she holds my pearls) "Pretty, pretty, (she moves to my hair) pretty... brown... hair... pretty you... pretty BYU! B U! B U!"" (She knows how to say BYU, but will only say it once before altering it to B U. We have no idea why.)

*And least you think she's nothing but a wonder-babe, let me tell you the most frequent word I've heard from her the past few days: "No, mine!" Oddly, this is usually said when I ask her the most unrelated of questions. This morning, she clutched a copy of the Ensign and a silky as she wandered around the house. I asked her if she wanted Cheerios. "No, MINE," she fumed, holding her items all the closer. This same exchange occurred at least half a dozen times before I finally got her to agree that she wanted breakfast.

Well, there's several more, but I think you get the idea: she's keeping us busy, content, and usually laughing, during days when it would be so easy to pout and whine.