Half Moon Bay with Grandma Paula




Waiting for some fish and chips at the harbor

 



It's amazing how entertaining utensils can be for a kid desperate to play with something

 



Seals sunning on the rocks at Moss Beach

 




Some sand time with Grandma

 




Down by the tidepools

 



Throwing sand rocks!  (sorry, couldn't resist)

 



I'm having the best time

 



until now . . .

 

Who needs parents?

. . . when you can wake up on Saturday morning, take off your bike's training wheels all by yourself, and then start riding it without any help?  Yes, this is what transpired a few days ago.  The boys were playing out back, still in their 'jamas at eight-something a.m., and apparently decided they were done with training wheels once and for all, so they used their bare hands to remove the training wheels from Eli's bike.  (I'm assuming those on Bennett's bike were too rusty to even attempt sans tools.) 

Bennnett came in the house to inform us of his proud handiwork, only to be followed by Eli's news that he could ride his bike like a big boy.  "Sure you can, Eli," I said, thinking he's got his legs down riding Fred Flinstone style or something.  He asked me to come watch and I figured I'd humor him--since it was early in the day and all--only to find him riding around the backyard like a pro.  No help needed.  Love it.  Seriously.     

Benito caught one glimpse of Eli's bike-riding and used his characteristically competitive spirit to prove he would not be outshone by his little brother.  There's nothing like a challenge to make Bennett Andrew rise to the occasion.  So it turns out both our boys can ride bikes.  Who knew?  Certainly not us, the parents who've been putting off our oldest child's "take off my training wheels" requests for months now.




A little unhappy that she doesn't get a turn riding the bike with only two wheels



Mr. Eli's highs and lows

Eli's been four for almost six months now, and while it's easy to take the kid for granted because he's so easy to have around, lately he's been reminding me he's there and won't be ignored.  Here's a run-down of our #2's extremes.

The highs:

One wacky sense of humor.  No one in our family cracks us up more than Eli.  The kid says some seriously off-the-wall remarks and some surprisingly clever quips, all of which keep us rolling.  After church today, Eli declared himself "top notch" for drying some of the rain off Lizzy's car.  So random.

Newfound love of the world of academia.  After resisting my efforts with his education, Eli has decided in his own time that he loves "reading" books, writing letters and stories, counting, and learning new things.  He spouted off something about evaporation today as we were driving home from church, something I assume he learned at preschool this week, that made me realize he's absorbing information even when I think he's not.  He adores Grandma Preschool with Stephen's mom, where for an hour or two a week he gets to learn about odd and even numbers, lowercase letters, science, seasons, animals, reading comprehension, and on and on.

The world of make-believe.  I love it when kids hit that age where they can pretend play all day long.  Eli loves to imagine he's a Star Wars character, or a Mario Cart driver, or a pirate, or a school kid, or a baby, or a Backyardigan.  You name it, he'll find a costume and a creative world to match it.

Playing with Bennett and Bennett's friends.  Boy, does Eli love his brother.  Yesterday, Stephen took Eli to the barber shop with him, and the first thing Eli said was, "Do you think I can bring a second lollipop home for Bennett?"  He's always thinking of his big brother, eagerly waiting for the school day to end so he can play with him.  Sometimes I feel kind of bad that so few of Eli's friends are his own age.  His sociality has always revolved around his brother's, and I'm afraid I haven't been very good about helping Eli make friends his own age. 

The lows:

Rebel without a cause.  He's always had that little streak of second child defiance, but lately the disobedience has reached new heights as he vehemently and persistently chooses not to do what we ask of him.  He loses almost every privilege--i.e. treats, video games, shows, outings, etc.--several times a week, if not every day.

Colossal cry sessions. Talk about crying stamina.  It always starts out so simple, being told he can't bring a toy on our walk to school (ever the rule), and then the neverending weeping and wimpering kick in.  He'll keep going the whole way there and the whole way home sometimes, which can be a good twenty to thirty minutes, and I don't think he'd stop if I didn't find a creative incentive or punishment to make it end.

Finger fixation.  Eli has a strange addiction to his hands.  He's always biting or sucking on his fingers, something we didn't realize he was doing for a long time until we started noticing the shocking amount of hangnails on the kid's hands.  He's sucked a few of them so hard a whole layer of skin, and the connected fingernail, has come off and/or bled. 

Physicality.  Eli throws his body around in soccer like it's a contact sport, karate-kicking the ball with his entire body rather than just kicking it.  That seems to be his style.  Why just sit on a couch when you can fling yourself into it?  Why just walk to my room when I can full-speed run and crash into a wall or two on the way?  It's not always a bad thing, but we're confident our E.R. trips with this child are nowhere near being over.

We love our Eli.  He makes us smile.  He makes us scratch our heads.  I can't wait to see what the future holds for this kid, or maybe better said, what he will bring to his own future.

Goalie in the house




I'm glad Stephen thought to get a shot of B in his goalie gear before the game

  Bennett's soccer team moved up to U-8 this spring.  I didn't realize it would mean anything other than playing with older kids, but there are a few changes worth mentioning.  Now they have goalies, throw-ins, and a bigger field for the whole team, whereas they used to split the teams and play on two different, smaller fields. 

Born-defender Benito has taken a liking to playing goalie.  No surprise there.  That kid has always done anything to stop the other team from making goals.  Now he can throw his whole body in front of the ball!  He has no fear of doing so, either, as he spent almost the entire first half of yesterday's game stopping goals, drop-kicking balls, making goal kicks, and giving his mom a few good scares.  I couldn't believe how aggressive and tough he was, even with an opposing forward running full-speed toward him.  Sheesh!  Assistant coach, a.k.a. Stephen, could not have been prouder that Bennett did not let one goal in, especially since the other team spent about ninety percent of the first half hovering around our team's goal. 



I was a little busy chasing Millie, but I promise to get some action shots next week

 

Easter 1976

I take for granted my knowledge that life after death exists. I don't mean to. I just don't stop and appreciate the Savior's resurrection as often as I could or should. Then Easter comes around, and I find myself bearing testimony to my kids about the reality that Christ lives and that we too will live again someday. And even though I haven't thought about that particular truth in a while, the second I start explaining it the Spirit promptly confirms its reality. 

I'm not just happy to know that God lives and that I will live beyond the grave, however. There are some other people I can't wait to see and hug and hang with in heaven.

#1 -- Grandma Marshall, as we called her.  My dad's mom, Mildred.  Yes, the nickname Millie has a lot to do with this wonderful woman who blessed my childhood with her quiet, patient love and devotion.  She was always there.  Every birthday, every holiday, every Sunday dinner that we had time to share with her.  I felt her love from a young age and it was a sustaining force for many years to come.  I still remember how her little house a few blocks off Aurora Avenue (in Seattle) smelled of cats and cigarettes and the most delicious mashed potatoes you've ever had.  She loved making us dinner, loved pulling out her best tablecloth and china, loved making us happy by feeding us yummy food.  I want to be the kind of grandma she was to me.




Sadly, I don't have very many photos of Grandma Marshall... and as usual, my eyes are shut.


#2 -- Grandma and Grandpa Bandy.  We spent many a summer in Twin Falls, Idaho visiting my mom's parents, Paul and Sophronia.  Grandma in the kitchen doing dishes or cooking something delectable in the oven, Grandpa downstairs in his leather recliner watching sports or westerns or Time Life documentaries.  I loved hugging G'pa Bandy and his big belly, smelling the Old Spice soap-on-a-rope and feeling the whiskers on his cheek tickle my skin.  He and I would play Gin Rummy on the front porch with a bowl of peanut M&Ms between us.  Grandma kept an organized, beautiful home, full of magical things from a bygone era.  A storage room full of bread bags and jarred peaches, a guest room with old clocks and bedspreads, a closet full of toys I'd never seen the likes of before.  I loved summers in Idaho with G'ma and G'pa Bandy.



Holding little, newborn me


#3 -- Great Grandma and Grandpa Bandy.  Ila and Floyd also lived in Twin Falls, so we got to visit them in the summers.  Loved their cuckoo and grandfather clocks, loved their stories about meeting in a horse and buggy, loved their knowledge of farms and dairies, loved their love for their little dogs, loved their strength and examples.




Jana and I with Great Grandma




Outside with Great Grandpa.  Notice the matching Holly Hobbie dresses.




Wondering about the post's title?  Here's a shot of two-year old me in my stylin' Easter garb.



Comeback Kid



We went bowling the other night with some friends and got completely schooled in the first game.  I continued to hit the gutters and impress with my abysmal consistency in the second game, while Stephen, on the other hand, turned things around and ended up taking the highest score of the night.  The other two couples were probably more surprised than I was.  I've learned over the years that Stephen, although sometimes the underdog, has the kind of patience and persistence that get him the best kind of results.  While I'm busy giving up because "it's just too hard" or "it shouldn't take this long," my husband chugs along without complaint.

I wrote a letter of recommendation for his youngest sister recently, only to realize a few days after writing it, that so many of the qualities I appreciate and love in her are the same qualities I appreciate and love in my husband.  Quiet, hard workers who neither need nor seek praise or attention, they fulfill their responsibilities not because anyone is watching but rather because it's their duty.  It's the right thing to do.  I am daily grateful for a husband who recognizes his fatherly duties and willingly meets them.  I know it's not a given, even in this day and age, to have a spouse who wants to be home, who helps when he's home, who puts his family above all else.

That sense of duty translates to so many other areas of his life.  Work, calling, hobbies, sports, his family, and probably most importantly, his spirituality.  Patiently working hard at all of these things has changed his life and mine for the better, and, yes, made him one serious pro at comebacks. 

Little Miss Excited

Millie loves to say "Yay!"  It started out as her way of showing enthusiasm for something, but now it's turned into her version of "yes" for just about everything.  I'll ask her if she's hungry.  "Yay!"  She'll see one of the boys putting on his shoes to walk to school. "Yay!"  She'll bring me my shoes when she wants to go outside and play in the backyard.  "Yay!"  She'll see someone picking up a remote to turn on a show.  "Yay!"  Her exuberance for such simple, daily things cracks me up.

Other "Yay!"-worthy things in Millie's life right now, in no particular order:
1. Swings.
2. Daddy and all men that look like daddies. (She's cozied up to a few absolute, and thankfully kind & patient, strangers in restaurants before simply because they're men.)
3. Shoes.  She spends a good chunk of her day putting on and taking off shoes.  Her own shoes, the boys' shoes, and of course my shoes most especially.  Several of my favorite flats are no longer pairs anymore, by the way.  Too weird to wear two different shoes together? 
4. Baby dolls.  I'm happy to say she's spending almost as much time with dolls as she is with superheroes and legos these days.  Marked improvement, people.  That said, I am a little unsure about her interaction with said dolls.  She'll be hugging and kissing them one moment and then pretend screaming and crying with them the next.  Extreme emotions, to be sure.
5. Slides.
6. The top bunk of her brothers' beds.
7. Purses, bags, backpacks, anything she can sling over her shoulder.
8. Music and dancing.  She does the funniest plie you've ever seen. 
9. "Go, go, go"-ing just about anywhere.  She's like her mama, who loves getting out of the house.
10. Books.  I must confess, this is my favorite of her favorites.  I will frequently find her sitting in the rocking chair of her room, flipping through almost every one of the books on her shelf (thirty to forty) in one sitting.  It warms my heart every time.
11. Bath time.
12. Repetition.  Another thing we hear a lot from her is "A-gaaaain!"
13. Kisses.  
14. Hugs.
15. "Ma ma."  Even if I'm gone for only five minutes, the moment I walk back in the door,  I hear "Ma ma!" from somewhere in the house with such glee and surprise you'd think I'd been gone for days. 





The backyard treehouse, her favorite hang-out

 



She and her beloved swing in the background

 



Curious as can be

 




How could I forget her love ot Sillybands, rubberbands and hairbands?!  She loves having something on her wrist.

 



Another favorite haunt, the shoe box by the back door

 



Gotta have a bag on her arm