Top 25

I turned 25 this past week. Although I would have been okay staying 24 a little while longer, it was still lovely because my birthday included:

1. a nap

2. a call from Grandma

3. a clean apartment

4. happy Ramona

5. a new storage ottoman to *temporarily* contain Ramona toys (thank you Otousan & Okaasan)

6. a facebook wall full of Happy Birthdays (you have to admit, it makes you feel like you have a lot of friends)

7. a plate of fudge and a visit from KayLyn

8. cello time

9. birthday cards

10. a husband home early from work

11. a mommy-daughter collage

12. a new french bread loaf pan (thank you Forest)

13. Cheryl & co.

14. Parry and Teresa

15. a dinner that I didn't have to make OR pay for (thank you Cheryl)

16. caprese salad

17. a poopy diaper I didn't have to change (thank you Parry)

18. a mini-date with Forest

19. chocolate mousse

20. flowers

21. leftover cake

22. an additional next-day celebration

23. sushi

24. Jenina and Karin

25. Popper Requiem

TP'ed

As a mother, I feel a sense of empowerment and competence when filth is turned to cleanliness, clutter is arranged into organization, and chaos is brought under control.

Ramona, on the other hand, acts most uneasy when she sees something neatly put away or stacked up. For her, it is ludicrous to have all of her books lined up on a bookshelf, all of her toys gathered in one corner of the room, or all socks contained inside a dresser drawer. Of course, these things were meant to be scattered across the floor, and nothing provides greater enjoyment than strewing those things where they rightfully belong.

I have therefore concluded that the two of us are dependent on each other in a fundamental way: I have a need to create order from her disorder. She has a need to create disorder from my order. Without each other, how would these needs be fulfilled?

Yesterday, order was a roll of toilet paper, within Ramona's reach--promptly turned to disorder, all across the living room floor.

Really, what would I do without this child?

Back to School

I am still in disbelief at the decision I have made within the last few days--I am going back to school this semester. This semester starts tomorrow.

For about a month now my mind has occasionally wandered to the somewhat forsaken master's degree I started in 2008. I had never made a plan for exactly how I would finish those last 11 credits, and tended to push the idea away most of the time. The thought of taking classes made me feel guilty for some reason--mostly because I would be robbing our bank account for tuition money and robbing our baby of mommy-time.

But on Thursday those 11 credits seemed to haunt me. I couldn't stop thinking about them.

Friday morning I met with my adviser. Friday afternoon I signed up for classes. If all goes well, those 11 credit hours will be shaved down to 4 by May, and my degree will be just a workshop and an online class away from completion. Finally, I have a plan. The haunting is over, and guilt-management has begun. As long as I can keep that guilt in check, however, I think the next few months will be both exciting and rewarding. My thanks to all who have extended their support and made this possible. School of Music, here I come . . . again . . .

Snowy Day

So, I arrived to lab the other day and we had received a decent amount of snow. The University is still on break and it was early so campus was basically deserted. I thought this might be one of my last decent chances to take some relatively "pure" pictures of a snowy Illinois campus. And here they are.....

Redirected

Today I have decided to be snowed in at our apartment. My previous ambitions for taking Ramona and three loads of laundry to the laundromat were pushed aside with the snow that began accumulating inches on the ground last night.

Although two and a half loads of dirty clothes and towels remain unwashed in our bedroom, I attempted to wash half a load (entirely Ramona's clothes) in our bathtub this morning. I have yet to decide if this was a worthwhile effort, as I was constantly struggling to keep Ramona from climbing the toilet or playing with the plunger.
It was a snowy day like this about seven years ago that I came with my parents to the University of Illinois for my undergraduate audition at the school of music. I have to admit this audition was a bit half-hearted on my part, as I had hopes for acceptance at BYU's school of music instead. I remember trudging through drifts of snow as I went between buildings for a music theory exam, a vocal audition, a cello audition, an interview--I remember the whiteness of the interstate as we slowly drove home afterward. The thought crossed my mind that I might never return to that campus again. I thought wrong.

About a week later, on my 18th birthday, two letters came in the mail from BYU. Both of them notified me of rejection from the music college, although I had been granted general admittance to the university, should I choose a different major. I remember tears flooding my eyes as I wondered where I was supposed to go and what I was supposed to do with my future. A door had been closed that I had hoped to enter, and I stood there staring at it, wondering how to move forward.

A few more weeks went by, and another letter came for me in the mail: University of Illinois, School of Music. Acceptance. That half-hearted audition had pulled through (undoubtedly by the grace of God), and a new door was opened. I stepped through that door full of gratitude and reassurance that this was where I was supposed to be.

From this experience, I learned that often the things we wish for and pray for are not necessarily the things we really need. As I look back on my life since I walked through that door leading to Champaign-Urbana, I can see the many ways my needs have been fulfilled through the people I've met and the situations I've experienced here as a student, a teacher, a wife, and more recently as a mother. While I have no way of viewing the hypothetical life I would have lived, had I chosen a different path, on most days I find myself at peace with the life I find myself living right now. In many ways, it couldn't be much better.

Our little family still has no idea where it will be at the close of 2010. We do know that Intel's door is no longer open to us, so the job hunt will continue for a little longer--perhaps in a different direction than we originally expected. Although I have occasionally dreamed of living in a three-bedroom house in Portland with its view of snow-capped Mount Hood and proximity to cherry orchards, waterfalls, and the Oregon coast, I am content to put those ideas aside for the time being . . . and watch the Illinois snow from the window of our one-bedroom apartment.

Ramona's Holiday Tour

Because Forest and I currently have the luxury of living within a one-hour radius of our parents, it was both our duty and our pleasure to take Ramona around for a tour of multiple Christmases. But we celebrated a Christmas of our own on the 23rd, before our journeys began.
It started with angel food cake french toast for breakfast, new and improved from last year
. . . and included a stack of gifts, which dwarfed our tiny 18-inch Christmas tree.
Upon opening a few gifts, generally disregarding the contents, and playing with boxes and wrapping paper, Ramona commenced her holiday travels.
The 24th at Parry's
We spent the next couple of nights in Cerro Gordo, where a one-of-a-kind Christmas tree is always there to greet us this time of year. I can't decide which I like better--the Parry Tree '08 or the Parry Tree '09.Some of us wore festive socks for the 24th,
gave kisses under the mistletoe,
helped make an enormous Parry-style pie in the kitchen,


and watched the rain fall.


Christmas Eve at Grandma Carol's
At Grandma's house, Ramona played with a giant bucket of toys,
received plenty of hugs from Grandma,

opened more gifts,
gave Grandma a gift,
and attempted to steal ornaments off of the Christmas tree.
Christmas morning at Grandpa Parry's
Despite our hectic itinerary, Santa was well aware of Ramona's various locations on Christmas as evidenced by the plentiful gifts left for her at all of our stops that day.
He must have known what a nice baby she has been these past eight months.


Speaking of Santa, he never forgets to bring Parry a fresh supply of chocolate raisins.

Christmas lunch at Dutch and Bill's
Teresa's parents have a house that feels like some extension of the North Pole when this season arrives. Her lawn is covered with decorations, and a large section of her living room is dedicated to a tiny village of lit homes, ice skaters, and even an electric ski lift. It wasn't until after we arrived at their home that the snow finally came, transforming wet Christmas into white.
Diapers are perhaps more of a gift for mom than baby, but Ramona was still pleased . . .. . . and she was just as pleased when Teresa handed her a pickle to taste for the first time.Christmas afternoon at Ojiichan and Obaachan's house
More gifts awaited Ramona at my parents' home in Normal . . .

. . . as well as a basket of markers, promptly dumped out on the floor by guess-who?

A few successful family photos, after several attempts:

Ramona stayed with Ojiichan and Obaachan on the 26th while Forest and I headed up to Chicago to visit the temple. It was blanketed in snow by the time we arrived.
As we were leaving the temple, we saw three deer in a lot nearby. They looked back at us once before leaping away. I asked Forest if they were "snowdeer," instead of "raindeer." For all the pun-filled jokes he has told me, he should have laughed.We also saw a snow-covered nativity display still set up on the temple grounds. Somehow, looking at those figures and standing there together made it feel like we had found a moment of true "peace on earth." After all the busyness and activities of the past few days, I felt a contrasting sense of calm in being there. If I were a deer, perhaps I would wander by there, too.Merry Christmas.