cute claire

Claire had some difficulty adjusting to AZ.  Our first week here, she decided to not sleep in her bed.

Claire generally refuses to wear clothes, including diapers.  She is much happier if she gets to pick the outfit.  I think you'll agree, we have a stylish baby:

we're all growing up: an update

I swear baby girl grew up during her nap today—like she was a baby when I tucked her in and two hours later, she was taller, older: a little girl.

I'm not nostalgic (she's not THAT grown up: she doesn't walk yet and hasn't yet mastered the physics of spoons). I'm just realizing that every day is a serious gift.

We're trying to take advantage of those gifts in our own ways. A quick update:

Our not-so-baby girl recently conquered an ear infection and her fear of strangers while expanding her sign language vocabulary and capacity for at-home destruction.

Her dad sold his Xbox and used his freed-up time to start two new blogs, study for the GRE, and take up Arabic classes again.

Her mom wrote drafts of two new stories, read six books this month, and had a tickle-fest this afternoon with a certain baby who grew up so much during her nap that she can now put on her own sunglasses, thank you very much.

We're excited she's growing. We just hope she doesn't grow up so fast that she's a teenager by tomorrow morning.

beware the ides of march

You might just die from a whole year's worth of cuteness:


 Happy March 15th, everyone. And to you, sweetie baby, happy birthday.

i'm not sure we've cleaned out our car in three years

After the baby came and I started feeling overwhelmed with my unrealistic expectations of myself, we made an Everything List—a list of everything that needs to happen (daily, weekly, monthly) to keep our lives in order—and split things up.

We had already gravitated to certain tasks. I like taking care of the laundry. He takes out the garbage because I never, ever remember. He's good at making sure bills are paid. I'm good at calling the insurance company.

We divided up the ignored duties and devised a plan to jointly tackle cleaning the bathroom, a dreaded chore for each of us.

Then we got to the last unclaimed item: clean the car.

I looked at him. He looked at me. And because we knew neither of us would do it, we just crossed it off the list.

I'm delighted for a few reasons. First, it's like we're real grown-ups; we'll decide, not when, but IF we'll clean our car. And second, I knew (again) in that moment that I'd married the right guy. Sure, we disagree at times, but not about fundamentals—like who's going to waste their Saturday afternoon vacuuming floor mats.

Three years ago yesterday, we drove away from a big party in this car, that we may or may not have cleaned since then, and that we don't plan to anytime soon.






(Thanks for marrying me, love.)

we did it for the photo op

We almost didn't go to graduation. Reasons?

• We technically graduated 4 months ago, before Christmas break, when there were no graduation ceremonies.
  
• Cap and gown rental fees seem like a racket after you've already paid your four years' tuition.
• My husband often scoffs at pomp and authority (and so also, possibly, at "Pomp and Circumstance"). He initially didn't look forward to the fancy hats, color-coded tassles, and terrible parking.
  

But one of my favorite pictures of myself as a little girl was taken on my dad's graduation day. I wanted a picture like that for our baby girl. Possibly for tradition's sake. Or possibly to have proof to show her when she's a teenager (and thinks she knows everything) that she has smart parents. Caps and gowns make us look like we know something.
















Which is probably why I didn't take some of the other, non-smarty-pants pictures that I should have that afternoon:

• The mess I made when I didn't put the lid on the bottle correctly so all the milk we brought spilled in the diaper bag
  
• The spot where I would have gotten lost (on a campus I've known for years) if other people hadn't insisted I was going the wrong way
• Or the moment we had to break into the car because I'd locked the keys inside

I opted for the photo that makes us look smart, that we'll put in a baby book—which might be an unfair representation of everything we did that day, but reason enough to go to graduation.

Greener grass

I no longer have a job that allows me to blog. I've missed you guys.

But graduation has its perks. I'm glad I went to BYU, and I miss everyone that I met there, but I'm so happy with our new situation.

I learned my name in Arabic today. It's گرستوفر (Christopher) وييست (West). Is that not the coolest thing you've ever seen? It looks a lot like my actual signature (next time someone makes fun of your sloppy handwriting, tell them it's Arabic).

An Iraqi refugee named Refat is teaching me Arabic. Anyone is invited to come. We meet on Saturdays at 10am. I pay him a little for his time, because he has a wife and daughter to take care of, and because he's a refugee from freaking Iraq. Give me a call if you're interested.

I've also helped an organic farmer start his seeds this week, and I'll be helping brother Rasmussen with his corn crop when the weather gets a little warmer. So I'm on my way to becoming a farmer.

Dirt brownies
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Along those lines, my landlord and neighbor Gregg says I'm a real cowboy now. I had just finished filing my taxes (arrgh) when I looked out the window and saw a cow in the neighbor's yard. This is not very unusual in Draper. Our other neighbor has horses. But this neighbor owns dogs, not cows. I recognized the cow as that of my landlord, and I ran outside and called my landlord up on the phone.

"It looks like the grass is greener on the otherside," I said to his voicemail, "because your cow has escaped."

The fugitives
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Gregg had not answered, so I was on my own. I chased the cow around for a while, and opened up the gate to steer him inside. But after I opened the gate, the other cow also escaped.

I chased them around our yard for about ten minutes. They did not want to go back to their already-chewed and trampled grass, they wanted the fresh green mouthfuls our yard had to offer.

They ran away from me like naughty little kids. They really are full of personality. I finally shooed them inside, and that's how I became a real cowboy.

We still have no idea how the first one got out.

If you're not sure what you're going to do when you graduate, or with your life in general, I welcome you to Draper, where you can chase cows, learn Arabic, and play in the dirt.

ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

Up until now, I feel like we've been pretending a little bit. We went to school and had our not-quite-real jobs. We sent in our pretend tax returns (pretend because we filled them out but were too poor for the government to charge us much). We played house very nicely in a little basement that we filled with too many toys—books, in our case.

But I feel like we're almost grown-ups now: we pay for our own internet (not sure why this seems like a serious step toward adulthood for me), my pregnant tummy's big enough that parenthood feels like a reality, and my husband has a real-live job. Legally, we've been adults for quite some time now; I just took my time adjusting to the change.

And the real-live job? C. now works at a fancy medical lab where he tests medical devices for cytotoxicity and biocompatibility. You'll have to ask him to explain what that means. It's very grown-up of him.