Christmas Joy

I'm at 35 weeks today, actually, but I thought I better capture this gem (taken at 34 weeks) for posterity's sake. Most people smile in these photos, but I thought it would be hypocritical to smile while being forced to hold up my belly so I can at least manage a waddle. Not exactly smiling material. 5 weeks to go? We'll see what the doctor says next week...and if she thinks it would be wise to induce earlier (keep your fingers crossed!). More posts to follow re: Thanksgiving and other fun stuff. At least you know we are alive!

Halloween Report

Excuse the tardiness of this report, but the pictures are worth it.

Our Halloween started out mellow and ended up sort of crazy at the end. We took Gavin to our ward's trunk-or-treat (which lasted all of 15 minutes - the perfect amount of time for an easily distracted 2 1/2-year-old) the day before Halloween where he got his first taste of cotton candy. The next day we started out carving pumpkins around 5:00, and then the craziness began. We had intended to let Gavin run around in his dinosaur costume while I leisurely made doughnuts and Casey handled the trick-or-treaters. As is the norm for my life, my delusions of grandeur and perfection were politely snuffed out by reality.

I didn't realize that making pizza at the same time we carved pumpkins was not a good idea, and then our neighbors came over (causing us to also have to act as hosts) and we didn't get our pumpkins carved until 9:30 pm! I'm fairly certain we were the only ones to see them lit, because we brought them back in (ha! Would-be teenage pumpkin-smashers were foiled!) an hour later. My kitchen was a disaster what with pumpkin guts, pizza dough and doughnut ingredients everywhere, and with the constant stream of trick-or-treaters and associated expectations of "ooohs" and "ahhhs" from the parents of kids we know, the doughnuts weren't done until 10:30. Amidst all of this, Gavin barely put on his costume long enough for our neighbors to see and us to take a few pictures, and then he was totally done with it and it was his bedtime. Sheesh!

It was fun, though. I couldn't do it without my patient husband, who never outright squashes my delusions although he knows they are impossible. He is always there to support me through it and then gently pick up the pieces of my perfectionist mishaps as I descend into sharp self-realization. Maybe next year I'll dress up as a normal person for Halloween and leave the mental issues behind.

We Are Going To Grandma's House

Well, we already went, actually.Gavin and I got to spend a fantastic week in October hanging out with Grandpa and Grandma in Sparks. Aside from the fact that my two-and-a-half-year-old started acting his age on this trip and hasn't let up since, we had a wonderful time and were spoiled rotten. It was wonderful to see our family, especially since this is the last time Gavin can be spoiled all by himself. The next time we see Grandpa and Grandma, Gavin will have a baby sister to share the limelight with! Following are a few highlights from our trip (not included: the phone call I got from our alarm company stating our security alarm at home was going off. Casey was in Dallas that day and I was obviously not home. Good times. All is well, thanks to Border Patrol neighbor with big guns...oh, and strong muscles, too!) I am so sorry to the family members who we didn't capture on camera - I was good at taking pictures some of the time. Marissa, if you have any pictures of you and Gav, please let me know! He says "Aladdin fork!" on a daily basis!

Thanks for taking the time to see us and making sure our visit was just spiffy, Family! WE LOVE AND MISS YOU!

Gav and Grandpa in the backyard

Makin' sugar cookies

Tastin' pumpkin seeds (uncooked. Clearly enjoyed.)

Playin' soccer with hilarious Uncle Reed

Visitin' Grandpa and Grandma Great

Kissin' all the ladies

Lest Ye Think It Is All Fun And Games...

In the last post, I touted potty training as an angelic experience that anyone would do well to learn eternal truths from. Well, let's not exaggerate, people - that was yesterday. Okay, that was about half of yesterday. The second half of yesterday went downhill quickly after two poops on the kitchen floor caused me to realize that I am projecting my perfectionist tendencies onto my child as I wonder why he isn't perfect the first time at potty training. After being mad at myself for this realization and then surging right on into a hormonal pregnancy mood change, I was as pleasant as a barrel cactus to be around last night. I am glad I wrote that last post, however, because I meant every word of it, and when I start to slide into pathetic self-pity I will come back and read it to gain the perspective I raved about before. In the meantime, I'll look at this cute face and wonder how I can ever be such a scrooge in the first place.

Line Upon Line

My life is filled with cleaning up pee and poo. And I love it.

I love rejoicing in the triumphs of a not-quite 2 1/2-year-old. I love screaming and dancing and running around the house with a half-naked toddler who runs back into my arms for a big hug after a successful go at the loo.

I love calling "Super Grover" (aka my dad) to discuss this latest triumph and watching the expression on Gavin's face as he says nonchalantly, "Hi Super Grover. I pooped in the potty." The proud, self-satisfied expression on his little face is priceless to me.

I love watching Gavin suddenly assume a sumo-like walk as he waddles to the potty and I know it is time for #2.

I love to sing, "This is the way we wash our hands, wash our hands, wash our hands; this is the way we wash our hands, after we go potty!" every time we wash hands post-pottying. With such a little bladder, the average number of hand-washing trips is about 3 times an hour.

I love to put lotion on my cracking and dry hands from so much washing. I love to watch a little body run around in Elmo, Super Grover and/or camouflage underwear and want to wear a new pair a couple of times a day even if he hasn't soiled the pair he is wearing.

In short, I love that the triumphs I used to rejoice in - graduations, my wedding, the birth of my first child - have been replaced by the small and simple every-day situations that are no less important in our development.

I love to think that this is the way the Lord designed our lives, for truly, "by small and simple means" does He accomplish His work. I know that He is just as excited for Gavin as I am, and that He is proud of the steps I am making towards becoming more patient and kind. I would hate to think that He only cared about the accomplishments that the world sees are important, like the big homes, the fancy cars, the degrees from fancy colleges, fitting in with hairstyles and clothing, etc. If we know that this isn't true of the way Heavenly Father feels about us, then why do we sometimes place so much importance on these things?

I am grateful for an infinite number of things about my son, but one of those I feel strongly about is that he has given me perspective and continues to teach me important eternal truths. No matter how small, the progress we make in doing the will of God and reaching our divine potential is what matters to Heavenly Father. I thank a potty-training toddler for reminding me of this.

Just 2

Two of today's thousand instances where I thought I couldn't love my child any more:

1) We tried out celery and peanut butter today for lunch. Didn't go well. Celery was basically a delivery device for the PB. At one point Gavin looked at me and assumed a very thoughtful facial expression, complete with scrunched eyes and tilted head. His comment on the meal? "This is kinda like chocolate...and fish."

2) Our bedtime ritual includes the following exchange between Gavin and his dad:

Casey: See ya tomorrow!
Gavin: See ya tomorow!
(Casey walks out of the room and shuts the door at this point.)
Gavin, from bedroom: See ya tomorrow!
Casey, from hallway, slowly walking into living room: See ya tomorrow!
Gavin, a little louder: See ya tomorrow!
Casey: See ya tomorrow!
Gavin: See ya tomorrow!
(Casey pauses without saying anything)
Gavin: SEE YA TOMORROW!
Casey: SEE YA TOMORROW, GAVIN! GOODNIGHT BUDDY!

And all is quiet. Apparently all Gavin needs is that last "See ya tomorrow!" nice and loud, and he's down for the count. Love.

Soapbox Time

This post may not be the "lighter" post I promised, but I have high hopes that it will make the wallets of a few misguided idiots...I mean, people...a whole lot lighter after reading this.

I have no illusions about the number of people who read this blog (thanks, Mom - you rock!), but my hope is that the few who do will pass on the following sentiments to others in their immediate circles. My topic for the day concerns wants vs. needs and who gets to pick up the slack when someone decides that they want something but don't actually want to pay for the whole thing: in short, tipping - how much should one tip at a restaurant, and can you actually afford to go out to eat?

Lest I seem to have stepped outside my area of expertise (whatever that is, if I even possess one), let me say that I believe it comes down to one simple and profound principle: generosity.

Recently, my mother-in-law, a long-time employee of a certain chain restaurant we'll just call "Snapplefleas," informed me that she had recently been told by a patron that the state of the economy allowed for a decrease in the regular tipping percentage - they only had to pay 10%. Yes, you read that right - this person decided that they had enough money for a fairly good meal, but not enough for a generous tip. Does this sound right to you??

Because I could go on and on about this, I'll keep it brief: if one does not have enough money to pay for both a meal and a 20% (yes, a 20% - NOT 15%) tip, one does not have enough money to go out to eat at that particular establishment. The "state of the economy" does not allow for people to continue to stuff their faces and short the service that brought such stuff to them in the first place. If a sacrifice is to be made, it should NOT be at the expense of someone else's livelihood. Determining that the belt must be tightened as long as it isn't your belt is one of the cheapest, most odious and ludicrous things I have heard in the past 10 minutes.

Maybe that wasn't so brief.

Nation, there are several facts we must take into account when determining whether or not we can afford to go out to a restaurant in which tipping is expected, and foremost among these reasons is the question of whether or not the tip can ALSO be afforded. If not, you just don't have enough money to go out and eat at that restaurant! It's like determining that you have enough money to pay only so much for a product and then asking the retailer if he will swallow the rest of the cost just so you can have the privilege of owning something you didn't really need in the first place. Sound stupid? IT IS!!

Lest I continue to digress in a cynical fashion, let me put forth a thought: since the "state of the economy" has been called into question, shouldn't we take every opportunity we can to help other people? A few lesser-known facts concerning the restaurant business might be useful here.

First, the wait staff at a restaurant does not get paid minimum wage. Since tips are part of their regular income and not just an added bonus, it would be much more kind to consider giving a generous tip as the rule and not the exception.

Second, one should remember for what you are tipping: a percentage of the check, yes, but also for service. A likely scenario that we may all have been guilty at one time or another: you and a group of friends decide to go out for dessert. Although your friends order desserts, you decide that you don't have all that much money and so you order a Coke. You and said friends stay at the restaurant for a couple of hours, and in that time the waiter refills your drink 3-4 times. When the bill comes, should you pay only 15% of the cost of the drink (say $1.75) or should you take into account that someone refilled it several different times for you? Better yet, what if you just ordered water but it was refilled the same number of times? Some things to think about.

Last: although some might short a waiter (sorry for the constant use of the masculine term - please consider all waitresses as also being implied herein) for what they determined was bad service, that is not really for us to decide. Etiquette dictates that a full tip should be paid but the manager should be sought out and spoken to about the issue. After all, we all have bad days. Maybe you happened to get the waiter who is the single mom trying to make ends meet who just received a 10% tip from her previous patron. That might make me a little less happy and a bit more preoccupied, too.

The lesson here, I think, is clear: please remember to be generous, people. It's okay to stay home and eat or patronize the nearest Burger King (a tip-less establishment) if you can't afford the whole experience of dining out. And if you can afford it, making someone else's life a little better that night has rewards that far outweigh the slight hit your wallet might take.