I'm Not a Writer

My disclosure will always be that I'm not a writer. I really shouldn't say this, since I try to instill in my nine and ten year olds at Nibley that they are writers, whether they think they are or not - that they have stories to tell. Things do seem to flow a lot better for me though in the morning than they do at 11pm. But my true reason for even keeping a blog is to have a record of the tender mercies and precious moments in my life.

I don't want to ever forget how Hannah scrunches up her face and blows through her nose. But knowing my awesome memory, I just might.

I don't want to forget how she learned this last week how to pull herself up using the wall, couch, chair and even the bathtub and how the only way to get down is to let go and plop - which results in a very large splash when it's bath time.

I don't want to forget her adorable ramblings. How she will talk incessantly to her toys, the dogs, her bow that's in her hands but is supposed to be on her head. Even though it's killing me that she won't say mama (I say won't because I truly believe she's fully capable, just stubborn as an ox like her mom), I love her dadadadadada.

I don't want to forget how every time I give her solid food, she acts like the taste is too much - even if it's one she loves. She makes a face as if it is extremely sour and she can't stand it. But then opens her mouth for the next bite. Or how she'll eat her gerber baby food for a bit, until she realizes that's not what I'm eating. Then it's all grunting until I give in and share.

She loves rattles. Really anything that makes noise. She loves to hold my hands, but only when it's to help her stand up and walk across the room. She hates kisses - even though her daddy insists on a snuggle and a kiss every night when he gets home from work.

She likes the dogs. I say likes, because she really loves watching them play/fight, and to hold their toys while they try to grab them from her, but she doesn't like being smothered with their kisses. She swats them away just like she does her parents when they try to smother her with kisses as well.

She loves music and books. Both of these can lighten her mood quite quickly. She loves ripping things apart and peek a boo. One of my favorite stories of this is when Bret was putting her to bed and she wanted none of it. She was really letting him know how she felt and he was done. So she laid her in her bed, still upset, when she pulled the blanket over her head and quickly unveiled her face, with a huge grin of course. Bret said all the tension he felt left immediately and he couldn't help but chuckle.

Right now as I write this, she made her way around the corner to her mound of toys, played for about 5 minutes and has now made her way back to me. It must have been a lot of work since she got to the edge of the office and just laid down - but of course for only a few seconds. She's not really a snuggler (although her daddy and I disagree on this point). So I think it's pretty sweet when she snuggles with the carpet.

These are the precious moments I'm talking about.

Keeping Up with Hannah

Hannah has discovered every single bookshelf in my house. There is no safe hiding spot any

more. She loves cords, books, papers, tags and basically anything not designated at a toy.

Earlier this week I decided I couldn't stand our pantry anymore (I blame all those hoarding and organizing shows) so we adventured to IKEA. Nothing. The containers and boxes were cheap - but made of cardboard. We knew they would never hold up.

Target was more promising. We found some containers and baskets just in time to run off to Young Women's. So Wednesday was the big day. I started by taking everything out of the pantry and worked from the top shelf down. Hannah was a doll. Although she went in and out of being pretty whiny, I can't blame her after being mostly ignored all day. I kept tossing her "toys" such as the tupperware, boxes, tote bags, baggies of chips, and even her own real toys. She would be content for a whole two seconds before getting into something else - usually something that I needed her to not get into. She did get her two naps in, just a bit late since the clock seemed to move a lot faster than I did.

She kept playing cat and mouse with me. She's obsessed with the stairs. Fortunately (or unfortunately) our stairs to the basement are in the kitchen. I lost count of how many times I would scream "NO!" and then run like the wind to keep her from going down. You see, her way of going down is to just get to the edge and then dive. Luckily we've only had two scares and I'm still hoping that we don't have to put up a gate.

The other thing she kept trying to do was help me in the pantry. Literally in the pantry. When I was pretty much finished, I took the boxes and garbage out and came back in to see Hannah helping again. Yes, those are her jammies. I'd show you a picture of me, but I didn't think it was necessary to document that I spent the whole day also in my jammies.

So...Without further ado. Here are a few before photos:

And...after (and my personal favorite of my little mischievous helper).