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Archive for October, 2006

happy halloween!

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Each and every morning we hear a little chickadee singing: “It’s time to wake up, Mama!”

Of course every moring except for the occasional Saturday morning her daddy and I have been up for at least an hour or so, but in the mind of a two-year-old, the world doesn’t exist until they open their eyes.

So as soon as the sun peeks through her shades and under her lashes, Ava awakes with a song and declares that the day has begun. Oh to happy, beautiful mornings!

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Since Ava was a wee babe Children of the Heavenly Father has been one of our favorite rocking songs. Over that past month she has memorized the hymn and is often heard singing it throughout our house. More recently Ava has begun interupting our evening singing with questions: “What’s slumber mean?” “What’s a defwender?” “What’s foe-man, Mama?” What is a two-year-old’s foe man?

Last night Ava’s foe man came in the form of a fever. As her temperature approached 102 degrees it brought on chills and dismissed all thoughts of sleeping. In the early hours of this morning I held her weary, hot body and began singing through hymns and lullabies. By the time I came to Children of the Heavenly Father, she was already heavy with sleep, eyelids quiet and breathing slowly. As I started singing her favorite hymn, Ava’s little lips began mouthing the words. Her limbs and lids remained peaceful as her quiet voice joined mine.

Together we sang about her Father who tends and nourishes her, who never slumbers and who gathers her in his bosom. I finished each verse by praying that God would be her defender, would spare her from evil and that she would flourish in his mighty arms. Ava remained nestled in my embrace as I whispered amen, swept her damp hair off her brow, and slowly restored her slumbering self to her bed. The tranquility that had eluded her all through the night had finally come.

Praise the Lord in joyful numbers for the privilege of being children of the heavenly Father.

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This is my born. I was a little, little baby because I was crying “eh, eh, eh” because I cried because I wanted my dada. Yeah. Daddy put his fingoo in my mouth and then I was all done crying. I was all done because I wanted my dada because I went to bed because I stopped crying. Yeah.
–Ava with her daddy in the hospital nursery right after she was born.

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this much

AVA: Mama, do this much!
MAMA: (whispers) Ava, I love you this much (hands very close together)
(louder) I love you this much (hands farther apart)
(louder) I love you this much (hands shoulder width apart)
(loudest) I LOVE YOU THIS MUCH!! (hands straight out to the sides and then circling Ava for a big hug)
AVA: I do it. (whispers) I love you this much (hands touching)
(louder) I love you this much (hands stretching wide)
(yelling) I LOVE YOU THIS MUCH!! (hands reaching all the way out for a hug)

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evening song

“When I’m little I wanna live in in in the big woods of WisCONsin in a a a little house made of logs, with Laura and Mary and Carrie and bulldog Jack. That’ll be fun. I wanna be Laura and Mary and live in the big woods, Mama!”
–plans made by Ava while being rocked to sleep.

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morning mahem

What do a bag of poison, a yellow puddle, and sixty-five dollar screw have in common?

Well let me tell you. Last night as Nate was sifting through the duck fluff (see post: nurse ava), he asked me if I had found the bag of sand. “What sand?” I replied. He explained that Ava had removed a bag of sand from her duck earlier in the day and he had put it back in. Since Ava was now asleep, I would simply have to search for the sand bag in the morning.

“In the morning” promises to be yellow, bright, and perfect; this morning, however, the sun was not only not shining outside (a phenomenon common to Minnesota), it was certainly not shining inside. I had already stubbed my toes and splashed vinegar up my nose, when I went in search of the infamous sand bag. What I discovered was not the bean-bag-toss pouch that I had imagined, but a nearly torn mesh bag of silica gel lying under my two-year-old’s pillow. I kept seeing flashes of the white packages that come in shoe boxes with ominous warning: DO NOT EAT. All the unknown and imagined horrors of consumed and inhaled silica gel were coursing through me–causing my nerve index to shoot from frayed to fried.

I carefully disposed of the poisonous contents and returned to the kitchen to find Ava licking the inside of her oatmeal bowl. She marched her sticky fingers into the bathroom and began washing them. Moments later, I heard her pleeing from sink, “Mama, I’m peeing!!” How she unwillingly soaked her skirt, tights, underwear, stepstool, and the floor is beyond me. Togeher, we pulled off her clothes and wiped up the puddles. Ava hopped up on the potty to finish and the doorbell rang.

“Ava, stay here. I have to get the door. It’s the man to fix the garbage disposal.”
“I wanna see the man.”
“Ava, stay here. You have to finish first.”

As the repair man and I headed up the stairs we were accosted by a half-naked girl running down the stairs. “Hi,” she yelled. “What’s your name?”

I scooped up Miss Bare Bottoms and replaced her on the potty. Immediately, I heard the pleasant whirl of a properly working disposal, a sound we hadn’t heard for weeks. “Is it working? Did you fix it?” I exclaimed, rushing back into the kitchen. Mr. Service Man held up a half inch screw, “Found this in your disposal.” Of course, screws dropped into disposals aren’t covered by warrenties, so Mr. Service Man required a check for $65–not bad for 20 seconds of labor.

As the grossly over-compensated service man attempted to leave he was once again accosted by a now not-quite-as-naked girl. She threw up her arms up at the service man and declared “you need a hug!” Her earnestness outweighed his bewilderment, so he reached down to accept her hug. With her face inches from his, she said, “You need a hug, but you don’t need a kiss. Only my daddy needs a kiss.”

Who says staying home is boring? We were only a hour into our day…

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