Zora's Blessing

On her 3rd week birthday, we blessed Zora.  It also happened to be Father's Day.  Ok, it didn't just happen to be Father's Day.  I intentionally chose Father's Day because I thought it would be sweet for her father to bless her on Father's Day.  I was not disappointed.  I don't normally get emotional about baby blessings because for some reason I always have babies when we have 9 o'clock church and I'm just excited/stressed/exhausted/happy that I made it to church on time with a 3 week old baby (actually, my babies are usually less than 2 weeks old when we bless them so my parents don't have to fly out here twice).  But Zora's blessing was just a little more special.  Not that Greg said anything outstanding.  It was your standard baby blessing but it just felt more special.  Maybe because I'm nearing the end of my child bearing and Zora may very well be our last child (we have yet to decide so don't go getting all crazy.  It's like the second coming at this point, only God knows whether we'll have more or not) and I was just trying to soak in the last of our baby days, who knows, but it was a special blessing and I really wanted time to stand still on that day.

In fact, I still want time to stand still.  I want to have a baby, a 2-year-old, a 4-year-old, and a 7-year-old forever, but I don't want to have a million kids in order to do that.  Aside from Zora and her near-constant crying (she's getting better), life is pretty perfect.  OK, not perfect but I really enjoy the ages of all my children and just want to be in this stage forever where my biggest worry is Henry peeing on the floor and a kid not playing the game Rex wants to play at school.  These are trials I'm willing to bear.  I do not want older kids with real problems, or kids over the age of 8 who are accountable.  That stresses me out.  I also feel like this is the time of my life that I have looked forward to and planned for for my entire life.  Being a mom is always having a baby and a 2-year-old.  If you don't have an infant, you are obviously no longer a mother and your children don't need you.

I guess what I'm saying is, I'm just really enjoying life right now.  I'm 2 weeks behind on ironing; no body had clean underwear last week; I found 2 Tupper ware of hairy grapes in my fridge last week; and there are about 3 packages of Goldfish on the floor of my van, but it's ok.  One day I'll be caught on the cleaning but then I won't have a baby, and toddler, and preschooler, and a sweet sweet boy.  I'll have a house of snotty teenagers and I can wait a million years for that.

Speaking of teenagers and since this is also the Father's Day post, I have to apologize to my dad:

When I was in middle school and high school, my dad commuted from Tracy to Palo Alto every day, which, depending on traffic, was a 2 hour drive each way.  Eventually, a train came to Tracy and he took that but it also added a bit to his commute.  He left the house every morning around 5 am and got home after 6 pm.  Take that in a for a minute: he was either driving to or at work for 13 hours a day and on many days had just enough time to eat dinner before running to church, as he was also the bishop.

Of course, as a bratty teenager, I had no respect for his feelings or just how exhausted he was for the entire 9 years we lived in Tracy or gratitude for all the bread-winning he was doing.  Nearly every night when he got home from work, I'd be waiting for him to help me with my math homework.  He'd walk in, Dad I need help.  I don't get this.  And this whine and that whine until he helped me.  And then, about half the time, especially in middle school, I'd end up crying and yelling at him because it was his fault that my teachers didn't do a good job teaching me and he only remembered how to do stuff with his computer because, honestly, who draws pie charts by hand when there's every computer program ever to do it for you?  But still, every night, there was he with pencil in his hand (he can't think without a pencil in his hand), helping me with my math homework.

And now I have to help Rex with his homework.  He's not to the point where his homework is actually difficult, it's just annoying but having to sit with him while he does it....shoot me.

So Dad, I'm sorry.  I'm sorry I didn't let you sit down for 10 seconds after sitting in traffic for 2 hours.  I'm sorry for blaming all my math problems on you.  I'm sorry for crying all the time while doing math.  I'm sorry I got older than 7.  I'm just sorry.

But I did get a 5 on the AP Calculus test and managed to pull a B+ in Honors Calculus at BYU.  And I still remember that for every unknown, I need an equation.  So thanks Dad, even though, because of you, I also cannot think math without a pencil in my hand.

Is this not perfection in a picture?

I mean really, how could you not just melt when your 4-year-old looks at your 3-week-old like that?

My sorry attempt to get a good picture of the blessing dress

Grandma Pattie made this cute blessing dress

Ok, I'm actually really mad about this picture.  I mean I found a skirt that fit me, curled my hair, coordinated my outfit with Alice and Zora, and I couldn't stand with my legs together like a lady for a decent picture?!?

The men folk who stood in the circle to bless Zora

everyone minus our photographer Erick.

First family picture

You know I can't resist a chance to spend way too much time, effort and energy on setting a table.  I was really pleased with how this turned out and then I got to fill my house with flowers after.  It was great.

I had to do an close up of this vintage Pyrex bowl.  I have dibs on all of my grandma's Pyrex bowls, but my wonderful neighbor Becky Wheatley also knows how much I love them so gave me this one she found at Goodwill.  That is true love there, because I would have kept the bowl for myself.  Best neighbor ever.