Driving Amidst Heroes

I always hesitate when I meet the flashing lights of a convoy of cars, signaling that it's a funerary procession. I want to show respect and I don't want to cut in, but I never completely understand the traffic rules surrounding such a solemn occasion. That happened to me yesterday on the freeway, as I headed to Ikea.

This was no ordinary procession, however, and it took me a moment to put it all together. Seven buses, endless cars, law enforcement vehicles, all with British Columbia plates. It sunk in that this convoy was paying respect to the four murdered police officers in the greater Seattle area. They were headed to the dome where my husband was already seated. I wanted to salute them; to show my gratitude in some small way. But there's not really any way except for this blog post that they will never read.

Thank you police officers for making us all a little safer. Thank you for showing your support in such massive numbers for our fallen officers.

Here I am running to make Lathen smile. I am 6 months pregnant. This is a bad idea.

Our weather has been numbingly cold, but the glorious flip side of that is the sunshine. I sit in front of our sliding glass door and bask in the sunlight. I even coerced Aubrey into having preschool on the floor in the gleaming patch of light on our floor. Hopefully we can stock up on our Vitamin D against the long rainy winter.

We've also been taking advantage of tricycle weather. We picked up a squeaky little trike at the DI for the price of a gallon of milk, and have thereby purchased endless childhood fun. It gets ridden back and forth through the house, and on lucky non-rainy days, we get to go outside and watch her pedal up and down the road. Lathen thinks that we do this so that he can have the [extreme] pleasure of climbing up and down the curb.

Background: Aubrey is really in to racing, and gets angry when she loses or when I 'beat' her. Unfortunately, this doesn't motivate her to move faster, but rather leads her to dictate how quickly I can go. I'm never allowed to get my seatbelt on before she does.

Today, Aubrey and I were out running errands. I opened the door for her, asked her to get in, and proceeded to buckle in Lathen. She proceeded to examine smashed dead leaves. Fun. But definitely no way to win the seatbelt race.

I tried to explain it to her. "Aubrey, you're getting into the car too slow. That's why I beat you."

Awesome. Did I just say that out loud? Check for CPS, duck, and drive.

Thoughts on Thanksgiving

Thankful for no post-basketball injuries.

Thankful for hot springs in the middle of the frigid Idaho outdoors.

Thankful for great conversation and even better food to help pass the days.

Thankful for five sisters who make up five of my best friends. Bummer that one of them was missing.

Thankful for a family that loves cards, board games and boggle, and who can balance swagger and humility in the act.

Thankful for great, gracious parents, who make me feel like my presence is as fantastic to them as theirs is to me.

Thankful for a husband who drove the whole way, had fun the whole time, and wound up with a wholly sore body.

Thankful for two kids. Smart, happy, and great travelers.

Stages of Development a la Toilette

Lathen survived the hands-in-the-toilet phase. Quite frankly, that was the easiest step. Leave the lid down. Even Aubrey can handle that.

Next, we heralded the start of the unrolling-toilet-paper phase. That one is ongoing, but relatively harmless and he has soooo much fun doing it.

That was followed by the baby-transvestite phase. He found my lipstick. He knew what to do with it. And does a repeat performance whenever possible. It resulted in child-proof cupboard locks. They're glorious, although I still regret not getting a picture of him with a Hitler mustache in Mary Kay's Salsa Red.

We have recently come upon a new development. Adventure, danger, the thrill of being somewhere no one else can fit...it meets all these criteria, and has the added benefit of driving his mother crazy. Nice work, Lathen.

Kitchen Love

Spencer and I have been working a lot, and hard. In the past week, I believe we've stayed up until 3AM three times. It turns out that removing cupboards, installing dishwashers, putting in cupboards, and hanging out at Home Depot really chews up your time. Particularly when prior to 8PM, two adorable little distractions demand attention, and lots of it. However, we have arrived. So have our sink, faucet, and countertops. So has the joy of cooking. Happy sigh of relief.

The Birth of a Diplomat?

Today while we were eating breakfast, Aubrey went off in to this monologue. She used big words, half sentences, and went on and on. I listened. I tried to understand. But the only part I really got was when she said, "Our house is really dirty. No one told me. I teached it to myself." When she was done with the rest, she whispered, "Our house is dirty."

Do you think she was just trying to break it to me easy?

Lathen is a man-ling of simple needs. That has resulted in a like-wise simple vocabulary. For the past few months, he has found Da-da, Mama, thank you (na-nu), Amen, and Uh-oh more than sufficient.

That was before he had ice cream, though, and he can now say 'more.'