Plastic Bags

I now know why there are so many warnings about keeping plastic bags away from children. Not because I've had experience with the danger, but because my little four and a half month old sure loves them. It would be a great temptation to let him play with them all the time if I weren't somewhat educated on their potential hazards.

My two favorite guys.

Ked's first word

Ked is fascinated by the camera. As soon as he sees it, he stops what he is doing and stares at it. Thus, we don't have a lot of great video when he is in his laughing/talking states, but here is a little one from a while ago.

Nauvoo, Dec. 26, 2009

Ginger always comes to my mind anytime I am in Nauvoo. She spent a semester studying there and loved the place and the history associated with it. I'm sure she was so excited when they announced the building of the temple there. I was looking forward to getting to talk to her about my experiences there, knowing I would be seeing it soon after I was married to Sam. She passed away a short time before I made it there the first time, making the experience bittersweet. But more sweet than bitter, especially since the temple is a great reminder that families can be eternal, and I know my sisterly bond to her is just that. I still wish I could talk to her about it (and a great many more things!) in the present, but I know I will see her again some day and that she will still be my sister.

We were grateful to be there for Guy's endowment in the Nauvoo temple before he leaves on his mission to Brazil. We were also grateful that of the three carloads of us going, everyone made it safely despite all the snowy road conditions!

It was freezing! But a beautiful day just the same.

Christmas in Iowa

We had a lot of fun with Sam's family in Iowa for Christmas.

Sam with his brothers Guy and Dan. Ked loved his aunts and uncles.

Ked slept really well the whole time we were there. I think it's because he got so much attention the whole time--always being in someone's arms. Here he is with his Grampa Jim, rocked to sleep.

Eli, Gordon, and Amy--the human sandwich.

More Cousins

At the last minute before Pete and Emily were leaving, we attempted to get a cousins picture for all our nephews (no nieces yet) on Sam's side.

Henry, Josh, Eli, Ked

I love how Ked always holds his pacifier.

This is what happens when there are too many people making loud and crazy noises, trying to get the kids to smile. This is when Mom (me) stopped the photo shoot and took my poor baby far away from everyone else to comfort him. I have to admit, I love this shot of him and the way his little foot is up in the air.

Let's see a closeup.

Eli and Ked. The oldest and youngest.

Ked may not have any older siblings, but he's got plenty of cousins to have at least some similar experiences with. Here with Lindy, Paige, and Kaden before we left for Iowa.

Ho ho ha!

Christmas Nativity

I have always loved nativities. I’ve always enjoyed reading the story of Christ’s birth in Bethlehem in the Bible. I’ve grown in my appreciation of the experiences of those in the ancient Americas, the persecution the believers suffered and the miraculous signs they were given of His birth, in the Book of Mormon. As a young child, I always loved when my family would act out the story—whether I was an angel, a shepherd or a sheep—with the youngest in our family (there was a baby every two years or so) wrapped in white sheets for swaddling clothes. I was excited this year when Melissa (my sister-in-law) talked about us and the kids acting out the scenes as it was read from the scriptures. She mentioned me being Mary with Ked as the precious child. While the acting never materialized, I have felt an increased tender emotion to the actual event this year, imagining what it must have been like for Mary. Partially feeling sympathetic, imagining travelling on a donkey fully pregnant and giving birth in a stable with no medical conveniences. But more significantly, with how much I love and cherish Ked, I can only imagine what it must have been like for Mary to hold and care for her child; the baby Jesus, the Son of God.

When I was a young teenager, I went to a Creche exhibit where nativities from all over the world were displayed. I had always enjoyed the nativities in my home, but I was fascinated by what I saw there and have collected them ever since. I have marveled at the vast diversity of nativity displays. I love that each culture has their own way of trying to represent what they imagine occurred in their own unique way. As historically inaccurate as some nativity displays may be, I think each one helps just a little bit more to capture the essence of what occurred on that blessed night.

These are the nativities I own, each one with a special sentiment. The first on the left I bought in Honduras for about 30 Lempiras (about $4). It is intricately made up of plant parts. I wished I could have found the actual artisan (instead of just the middle man) and paid a little more for their time and care. The little one in front I got in Mexico. The little one in back I won in a gift exchange. The white porcelain one I love because my youngest sister Wendy made it for me in her high school ceramics class. The nesting dolls are from my good friend Kristel. The one in the back is from Guatemala from another good friend, Rachel. The one on the end wasn't originally on the table and isn't a nativity, but it was given to us by our friends Andy and Yvonne, and seemed to fit appropriately alongside the rest of them this year.

Shots

I was a little annoyed Tuesday when the nurse told me they'd run out of a particular vaccine, and we'd have to bring Ked back for one more shot. And repeat the whole tortured process. So I brought him in today, alone, without Sam, to once again endure the tortured squirms and cries of my poor baby. The nurse had him smiling and laughing as she got him prepped. (It almost seems wrong to play with them before you inflict them with pain, but I do the same thing.)

The needle went in carefully. The shot was slowly delivered.

Ked paused, then grimaced.

The needle was slipped out.

Ked looked.

And then laughed.

Just what exactly are they putting in vaccines these days?

I hope we get that nurse for his next shots.

Rhyming and Singing

Ever since Ked, I find myself rhyming nonstop as I talk to him. Sometimes cleverly; usually pathetically. (Now I know where the "Hush Little Baby" song comes from. Listen to it. It makes no sense, but it rhymes.) And every song I sing takes on new words. There are a fair amount of words that rhyme with "Ked" or "boy."

For the first few weeks, the song I was singing constantly was, "Wake up, little Kedrik [Susie], wake up!" as I was constantly trying to get him to take more than one suck before falling asleep at feeding time. And just trying to get him to wake enough to do even that.

Then came the days when I would beg him to sleep just a little longer. (Now when Sam says he's tired and he's going to "sleep like a baby," I give him a look and say, "You mean you're going to wake me every two to three hours?") I don't think I sang many songs then. My brain didn't function so well with all the interrupted sleep.

But now, on glorious mornings, somewhat frequently, I can sing, "Good morning, good morning, you slept the whole night through. Good morning, good morning--to you." (From Singin' in the Rain.) That is my favorite song to sing--when I get to sing it.