Scott

This is ancient news, but....Scott Heber Lonsberry joined the family April 21 at 7:22 p.m. He weighed 8 lb 12 oz (my biggest baby) and was 20 3/4 inches long. And, he has hair.

In the last nine days, I've learned a few things:

1. It is possible to love your fourth child as fiercely as you loved your first.

2. You totally forget how to do infant things.

3. You remember quickly.

4. Baby four gets to cry a lot. And oddly, unlike with baby #1, it happens without ruffling mom's feathers a bit. Baby number four can cry and fuss, but mommy will still have to chase #3 around to change his clothes, and put the hair of #2 in pig tails and make lunch and try to get everyone out the door to the baseball game on time. #4 will get fed and loved on, just not at his whim.

5. I will never tire of studying their faces as they nurse (or, as they age, at play).

6. Nursing time = reading time. I remember now that I read very quickly when there is time. (Perhaps not as quickly as my sister who read about eight books in the two weeks she was here, two in ONE day...) I'm going through a book every couple days. At this rate, I will run out of things on my "to read list" (though, in all fairness, I've yet to order "Salt" in from the library. Seriously, the history of salt honestly sounds fascinating to me...). Book suggestions???

My sister left today after a two-week visit and I miss her already. Already, the house is a mess. And I am blogging versus cleaning it up. Oh well. At any rate, I am already in love with the new man in my life.

Good times!

Today was a good day. Robbie had no potty accidents. Ellie folded all the dish towels. Jack read two books to us at bedtime. Bob seems to be starting to get over the horrid cold/flu that has wracked him all week. The baby waited another day to be born (one more and he can come whenever he wants...). It was a great day to be a mother. Left: Us, exhausted at Christmas dinner 2010, the night Aubrey got engaged.

Remember When - All my Children

I spent a significant portion of my childhood (and every day from 12-18) with my grandmother, Mary Lou Woods. There were several things she loved in life: Her family, pictures on a wall, gardening, flowers and "All My Children" -- a lunchtime routine that existed from the day the show started. I grew up knowing the characters and story lines. When I went to college, she would call to chat and would always be sure to tell me what happened on her "story" that day. Sadly, she passed on in 2002. I haven't seen or read about an episode since outside of grocery store check out stand soap opera magazine covers. Today I read that AMC and its sister show, "One Life to Live" are being cancelled. Seems logical, I suppose. Soap operas really are a thing of the past, an art form suited to an era of housewives without DISH Network or cable. (Although how those housewives made time for the soaps, I do not know...). Watching this little YouTube video, though, reminded me of how addictive soaps were, even when I was a kid. I remembered these characters fondly -- whether by association with my grandmother or from the fact that I simply liked them, I don't know. (This clip didn't include super couple Angie and Jesse, but I noticed in a different clip more recent-ish episodes where Jesse was alive and he and Angie got married again. I happen to know he "died" in the late 80s/early 90s, so boy, did I miss a good come-back-from-the-dead story line...) So, Joe and Ruth, Edmond and Maria, Brooke and Tad/Adam, Tad and Dixie, Hayley and Matteo, Opal and Palmer, Erica and, well, everyone, apparently, Angie and Jesse, and everyone else in Pine Valley, good bye. Thanks for being family friends all these years. I might have to catch an episode or two before you go for good.

Big day for the Little Man

This one here, the cute strawberry blonde one, had a big day. I know I am so behind on posting anything here, but I've decided if I don't just pick it back up, I will NEVER catch up (and I missed Christmas, Ellie and Jack's birthdays, a million funny quotes...argh). Since I really post for the sake of my own memory more than anything, I want to remember today.

I TRIED to watch General Conference, I really did. I had the kids make toilet paper roll versions of the First Presidency of our church with a little lectern that wrapped around the bottom of a milk carton. (Ok, they did enjoy swapping out whomever was speaking into the carton). I had conference activity packets ready (the novelty lasted through Elder Uchtdorf's morning talk). To top it off, Mr. Robbie decided today would be the day he wore underwears (as he calls them) and ask to go to the potty.

I had hoped to have him potty trained before the baby arrived, but so far, it's been a disaster. He was doing well getting started on the potty, but one day as he was cheering for his nightly success in going potty his binky (yeah, haven't got rid of THAT yet, either...on a roll here...) managed to fall out of his mouth right as the toilet was swirling down. There was no way I could rescue it. Oh, the howl! Oh the agony on his face! Oh, it was the perfect moment for the emergency binky I had jealously guarded for a True Emergency. Then, a week of telling anyone within earshot that the (evil) toilet ate his green binky.

And then he refused to have anything to do with it. Dang it.

Until today. Conference had to take a back burner to tinkling in the potty. Suddenly, the toilet is cool again and the score was Robbie 6, accidents, 2. To this I say: Not bad! I'll take that score! He's plotting what underwears he'll wear tomorrow! Dare I hope that before the baby is born in two weeks or so he'll be potty trained???? To top it off, he insisted on saying the prayer for dinner and a second family prayer for us. This is also the first time he's prayed on his own.

So, to my little man, hats off to a great day! May we be blessed with many more!

Goodbye, Grandma

Grandma Donna with Jack and my niece, Andrea, and nephew, Tyler, 2006.

My grandmother died last night. This officially makes me a grand-orphan. Donna Marie Young Hammon was 82. Born and raised in Butte, MT, married to a miner who took her all over the West, a mother of three, grandmother to eight, great-grandmother of 10 and counting. She loved to dance, crochet, bowl, travel, play bunko, bingo, cards and dominoes and watch game shows (among other hobbies, seriously, she was in CONSTANT motion). Really, I can't even begin to chronicle her life. I'm too tired. But, she was my grandmother -- complicated, blunt, loving. I've been digging through pictures this evening to scan and send to my cousin for a family slide show. At 33 weeks pregnant, I'm not quite fit for travel. I will have to send her happy, loving thoughts heavenward on the day of her services Tuesday.

She has been ill for a while, and for the past four months she has hovered near death. The strain on my Aunt Ronda in particular I know has been great, and I'm grateful to my family in Nevada for their care of her in her last days. Unable to speak with her recently, I content myself with memories. I will miss her Swiss steak and apple salad and fudge. (Actually, I've been missing those for a long time since she went on a cooking strike a long time ago...). I was terrified of her at bathtime as a small child because she believed in scrubbing so hard, it literally felt like my skin was going to come off. As a teen, I used to spend my Easter breaks with her where we would every year watch on ABC "The 10 Commandments" with Charleton Heston. The last time I saw it on, I called her to see if she was watching. In recent years, she didn't like to talk on the phone, so it became my personal mission to see how long I could keep her cranky little self talking. My record: Thanksgiving Eve 2007, two hours, where she ended up giving up some baking tips and talking me through a crochet pattern. Forever, any time I brought anyone around, she would insist on telling them one of two moderately amusing/embarrassing stories from my toddlerhood. Because I think I'd like to remember them, perhaps I should share them. You won't get her animation, tiny hand gestures, bright eyes, but the stories she INSISTED on telling over and over will live on.

The Bird

I came in from outside one day and I couldn't find her (that would be me, Mandy). I kept calling, "Amanda. Amanda? Where ARE you?" I heard giggling in the dining room. There she was standing on top of the table spinning the birdcage (pause: It was a parakeet. Now, picture my grandmother pretending to wildly spin a bird cage). "AMANDA! What are you doing? Her favorite part, which she would say exactly like this: "I d-ive Tweety a wide, gamma!" That bird looked like it was going to be sick! And then she'd clap her hands and laugh.

Pop Pop

My Nana (Great Grandma Mary, Grandma's mother) was visiting from Montana. Apparently, I dragged my sassy little self into the kitchen, looked at my grandmother and said, "I wants a bath." "Not now honey. Grandma's making dinner." Me: "I. WANTS. A. BATH!" Grandma: Not now, honey. Me, stomping my feet: "I WANTS A BATH --NOW!" (Digression: Though I have heard this story a million times, I honestly can't believe she didn't take her shoe off and throw it at me the second time I threw a fit over this, but anyway...) Before my grandmother can speak another word, my Nana yells at me, "Mandy, leave your grandmother alone. You stop before I give you a spanking." Now to the part my grandmother loved, which she would tell partially stooped over, eyes narrowed, finger wagging: "Then you lifted up your finger and yelled at your Nana, 'And I've got a Pop-Pops, too!'" (In other words, you touch me and my grandpa will come and get you!) And nobody messed with Grandpa's girls, she'd finish.

I have no idea why she loved those two stories. But she told them over and over. And over. And over. And...you get the picture.

What I wouldn't give to have her tell them to my kids one more time.