Email Update

The IT department at BYU is cleaning house and discovered that I have an email alias (@byu.edu) they only want current employees using.  So, I have to change over to the alumni handle (@byu.net) which will be hard for me because I always type "ent" instead of "net."  Oh well!  So please,

Delete 211ta@byu.edu

Update to natals8@byu.net

While you're tidying things up, go ahead and delete pamperedbynatalie@gmail.com, too.  That chapter of my life has closed and I'm shedding the email address with it.  If you use my other gmail, you're fine to leave it.

My new byu.net email will (hopefully) be a permanent thing which I will always have set to forward mail to my primary email address (that was the plan with 211ta).  So when in doubt, send it to natals8@byu.net.  That should always find me even if I change other email addresses.

Thanks!

I Spy

Once upon a visit, Nathan's mom taught David how to play "I Spy" during a car ride.  On their most recent visit, Daniel decided he wanted to play, too.  He kind of gets it, but kind of not.  For example:

Me: I spy something... black.
Daniel: Is it outside the car?
Me: Yes.
Daniel: Okay, my turn!

At least it takes the pressure off having to spy something he can actually guess in a moving vehicle.  It gets even more interesting when it's Daniel's turn.  He usually spies something "black and yellow," but that's not a dependable description because it could really be anything at all, regardless of color.  One time he spied black and yellow and it was a tree--before the autumn colors had come to our neck of the woods.  And sometimes he spies things that are nowhere in sight.  This morning I spied something green (traffic light) and he insisted the answer was a school bus.  No school busses in sight.  Not even black and yellow ones.

A couple weeks ago I watched his little friend Tanner for the afternoon and they played I Spy on the way to pick David up from school.  I don't remember their dialogue, but imagine two little guys playing a la Daniel, and it's pretty comical.  I do recall that Tanner would say "I Spy something orange" and then proceed to name everything in sight that was orange.  It kept them entertained, though, so who am I to complain?

"You are Getting Sleepy"

I'm told that when it comes to sleep patterns, some kids are timers, some are alarm clocks.  Meaning regardless of when they go to sleep, "Team Timer" will always wake up X amount of time later, and "Team Alarm" will always wake up at the same time.  My kids are alarm clocks, and David's is set very early.  Ridiculously early.  As in, sometimes he's awake when Nathan's leaving for seminary at 5:45.  When he was in diapers, we just kept his bedroom door locked to make sure he wasn't getting into mischief until we woke up. After he needed the freedom to emerge and use the modern marvel of indoor plumbing, however, we took a different approach.

I bought him a bedside clock and we stressed emphatically that he could get up to use the bathroom, but otherwise he needed to stay in bed until 7:00.  If he woke up, go back to sleep.  Stay in bed.  But whatever he did, unless there was a dire emergency, he was not to come bounding into our room before 7:00 under pain of death.

Now, we happen to know that he's usually out of bed by 6:30, a fact merely confirmed when Nathan started teaching seminary last year.  He often just goes downstairs and reads.  We wake up briefly and notice a light on, or hear him playing, but we figure as long as he leaves us alone and doesn't wake up Daniel, there's not much we can (or care to) do about it.  However, when we notice he's up especially early and ask him what time he woke up, he, brainwashed with our ultimatum, always answers straight-faced that he got up at 7:00.

Today he was acting very tired while we were on an outing.  On the way home, as David looked on the verge of falling asleep in the car, Nathan asked him what time he got up.  "And don't say 7:00, because we know you were up earlier."  David hesitated a moment and then replied, "6:59..."

Giving Thanks

Daniel is still in the early stages of potty training, so I still get to enjoy all the thrills of diaper changes.  Thursday he did an incognito poo in his diaper either right before or at the very beginning of a 2.5-hour romp at the playground, which of course I didn't notice, so he started to get diaper rash.  Friday morning he greeted me with a not-so-incognito big load, walking like a saddle-sore cowboy.  Whenever I tried to clean him up, I had to deal with the usual sore-bum evasive maneuvers amid protests of pain.

This morning I walked in and saw that he had another big load (how does such a small body create so much waste?) and I carried on with what must be done.  I was very surprised, however, as I started cleanup on aisle 1, when he said, "Mommy?  Thank you for cleaning my bum."  There's a first!  He stayed remarkably still while I wiped him up.  That poor diaper rash even started bleeding a bit in one spot.  He calmly reminded me to put medicine (Desitin) on his bum, which I'm told stings, and after I finished, he gave me a big hug and said, "Mommy, thank you for feeling me better."

I'm so thankful to have such sweet boys!

Pancakes

Earlier this year, around May, I think, I got David some books to look at for a road trip.  One of them was Curious George Makes Pancakes, and it has a pancake recipe on the back cover.  Every time we go to make pancakes, he runs and gets the book and asks to make that recipe.  And Nathan, as the designated pancake-maker, reaches in the cupboard for the Bisquick.

See, we're a Bisquick family when it comes to pancakes and waffles.  Sure, you can make 'em from scratch, but Bisquick is so much easier and tastes good, so why mess with a good thing?

There's a reason Nathan is the designated pancake-maker.  I think first and foremost, my dad usually made breakfast, so in my mind that's "the Dad's job."  Dad would make them from scratch.  Mom would make them with Bisquick (which to me was a treat).  Secondly, Nathan doesn't follow the Bisquick directions.  He totally eyeballs it--and makes wonderful pancakes that are fluffy but not heavy.  I am SO not an eyeballer.  Give me a recipe and I will follow it to the letter.  So the last time I made pancakes, I followed the directions and ended up with very fluffy, but dense pancakes.  I decided then to pass the spatula back to Nathan and let him keep it.

Yesterday the boys asked if we could make pancakes.  Since there is no school today in observance of Veterans Day, I figured we could go for it.  Unfortunately, I had to make them since Nathan is in Vegas on business this week.  I silently resolved to myself to use more milk and fewer eggs to try and lighten my Bisquick concoction.  I think that's what Nathan said he does.  David excitedly pulled out his Curious George book and I thought, hey, I don't know Nathan's magic combo for Bisquick, so let's give this other recipe a shot and see if I do better.


Riiiiiiiiiiight.....

Here's the recipe:
1 egg
1 1/2 c milk
2 c flour
2 tsp baking powder
2 TBS sugar
1/2 tsp salt

So I start making Curious George pancakes.  I had some heavy cream in the fridge from a previous recipe that needed to be used pronto.  I recall that Marianne and Nathan have both added heavy cream (if available) to their pancake batter in lieu of milk and it tasted wonderful.  I just don't know how much they used.  All cream no milk?  Just a little cream and mostly milk?  I had a cup left, so I decided to use all of it and top it off with skim milk...

...since David just poured the last of the 2% in his cup, and dribbled milk all over the kitchen in the process of trying to crush the jug for recycling.

So 1 egg, 1 c cream, 1/2 c milk, (David can hardly contain his glee that I'm making Curious George pancakes and is bouncing all over the kitchen,) 2 c flour... I had "batter" the consistency of cookie dough, and I wasn't even done adding dry ingredients.  Added a little more milk, then decided to start over.  Must have been because the cream was so thick.

Take Two
1 egg, ("David stop climbing all over the counters,") 1 1/2 c milk, ("David, keep your feet on the floor please,") hmm, should have whisked the egg before adding milk, ("David, stop bugging your brother.  Here, Daniel, have some milk while you wait,") 2 c flour, this is still looking too thick, add a little more milk.  (David: "blah blah excited chatter blah blah blah") 2 tsp salt.... OH CRUD.

Take Three (4 cups of flour, 1 c cream, 3 cups milk, and 2 eggs later)
2 c Bisquick, 1 c milk, plus a little extra, 1 egg instead of 2 as directed.  Pourable consistency.  Progress!  I scooped the batter onto the griddle, watched for the edges to go dull, and flipped.  Beautiful, fluffy, and golden.  Perfect.  Drama behind me.  Somehow, from across the table, Daniel supposedly spilled David's full cup of milk.  I have my doubts about who's to blame, but grab a roll of paper towels and start mopping it up.  Shoot!  Forgot pancakes on the griddle.  Dash over and flip onto a plate.  Not-quite-but-pretty-close-to-burned, doggonit!

Finish mopping up milk.  Distributed so-called pancakes.  Brusquely countered protests of over-doneness and told them to just eat it while I scoop out remaining batter.  I will not burn these, I will not burn these, I will not burn these.  Poor kids need something to make the first batch more palatable.  I return to the table to smear peanut butter on theirs, butter on mine, help them cut their pancakes into bite-size pieces, pour syrup.  Rats.  Pancakes on the griddle!  How does Nathan DO this??  Dash back, flip them over, one lands straddling the edge of the griddle.  I whimper slightly and stand there and wait so I don't burn the other side.   Still dark, darn it.  Must have the heat too high.  Putting them on the plate, and the last one slides onto the floor.  Twice.  Can I cry now?  Sit down and take the first bite of my almost cold pancake short stack.  Fluffy.  But dense.

Where's the cereal?

Choices

David had me [secretly] chuckling again tonight.  During dinner, Daniel reminded me that they still needed their multivitamins, which I usually give them at breakfast.  While Daniel was insisting he wanted two (his maximum dose), David said he only wanted one now, because he thought they were starting to taste funny and he didn't care for them anymore.  I said, "No problem, but then you're going to have to start eating vegetables."

Instant response:  "I'll take two vitamins, please."

* * *

We also encourage him at times to take a "thank-you bite" of something at dinner to try new foods and show gratitude for what has been prepared.  He's only obligated to eat one bite, and we've managed to get him to discover a fair amount of new foods that way.  Oddly enough, sometimes we have to force him to take thank-you bites of things any normal kid would leap at the chance to eat.  Like ice cream or homemade cookies.  He's only just recently tried and discovered he likes both my peanut butter chocolate chip cookies and iced molasses cookies.  Good thing, too, because what kid doesn't like chocolate chip cookies?  It's un-American!

Today I made both Scotcheroos and Chocolate Chip Pumpkin Cookies for several treat-appropriate gatherings this week, and he came home from school raving about how good the cookies smelled.  I encouraged him to try the pumpkin cookies since he thought they smelled so good, but he resolutely declined.

So tonight after dinner he requested a treat, no doubt with his dwindling Halloween stash in mind.  I told him he could have either a Scotcheroo or a pumpkin cookie, and that was going to be his thank-you bite since he didn't have any vegetables at dinner.  He silently eyed the Scotcheroo Daniel was trying (more like inhaling), looked at the pile of pumpkin cookies I was bagging, then went and fetched peas from the freezer.

Fax Fun: 18 months later

In April 2009 I posted about nuisance fax calls to our house.  Read it here.

We hadn't heard from our Fax "Friends" for a while, but the other day, those calls came rolling through again.  The stars must have aligned, because it happened to be one of those days when the phone was ringing off the hook anyway, and add 5 calls from the fax machine.  Thankfully I wasn't home when they tried to send me the fax.  I might have ripped the phone off the wall and thrown it into the street.

But, as I was deleting the 7 messages from my answering machine, 5 of which were from the fax, I decided to try and find an office number once again to see if I could get this thing resolved.  Remember those stars aligning?  Yep.  I finally found a number online that would get me a human being!  Score!

So I called today and wasn't really sure how to start.  "Hi, um, I'm just an ordinary citizen..."  I'm sure the girl on the other end of the line thought I was nuts with that opening line.  But she transferred me to someone else and I again explained the situation.  That woman was skeptical she could help, since the number on my caller ID did not match their fax number, but she promised to look into it, and wouldn't you know, she called back within 10 minutes to tell me she'd found my number in the system and had deleted it.  Thank you!!  I should send her cookies.   Or the peanut-butter-caramel swirled brownies I made yesterday.  (Yummm!  If you look up the recipe, I skipped the espresso powder.)

Turns out our number was linked to a regular customer of theirs, so every time he made a purchase the computer tried to fax him an invoice, but he now uses email fax or something like that.  Whatever his method, cue the Hallelujah Chorus, 'cause I'm FREEEEEEEEE!