My Little Brother is Married!

Check out these photos of my little brother's wedding reception in Pelotas Brazil! It was so great! And yes, my daughter is the baby in the onesie... I couldn't keep the dress on her all night, as it started way late. (In Brazil, parties typically start around 8:30 or 9 and go until the wee hours of the morning.) But to prove I did actually put a dress on her, here is a pic of her and me right after we got to the festa.

Take a good look because all the other pictures on the website are with her in pjs! hahaha

Anyways, last Wednesday, they got married civilly in the morning in Pelotas, got on a bus, got sealed in the Porto Alegre Temple in the afternoon, and then a couple of days later, they had an awesome party with a DJ and everything. (For those of you who are wondering, Brazil does not recognize any marriage performed by a religious institution including the LDS church, that's why my brother essentially got married "twice" in one day. Three times if you include the little wedding march they had at the reception! haha)

My Tia Nane (aunt) decorated the place and made all the bouqets and floral arrangements! She is amazing.
It was amazing; I haven't danced that long in forever!

I can't wait until Vanessa comes up to the states!
Te amo minha nova irma!


:)

Evie Gets Her Monkey

So Evie got a new sock monkey from grandpa, and here is her reaction to it.

Gasp! A Feminist!

I consider myself a feminist. Now now, I know some may immediately recoil at the word, but believe it or not, I actually wear bras, have been known to not leave the house without make up, and shave my legs. I look like any other typical woman, and enjoy looking "feminine."

How can this be? Quite simple really. I believe women deserve equal rights and respect when it comes to the work place and lifestyle they CHOOSE to live. What do I mean? Let me explain.

Women are damned if they do, and damned if they don't. I remember when I was a full time mommy and wife (just before and right after Evie was born), and I didn't have a "real" job, there were a few times where people would ask me "what I do." When I would say, I was a homemaker or stay at home mom, I would sometimes get this look of, oh, that's all you do? Sometimes I wanted to say, yes you douche. That's what I do. Got a problem with it? But that would be in my more vitriolic moods.

Now that I work, doing something I love by the way, I sometimes get the same vibe from people for working. I remember when we first moved into my ward, people would go up to me and ask what my husband does, or what my husband studied in school. Then they would move on to something else, it was as if, what I studied and what I did, was utterly not worth asking about (even if I did stay at home, I have something worth saying about myself!). This really bothered me, so immediately after telling them what my husband did, I would throw in the fact that I was applying to grad school and that I worked at the library. A lot of people would be like "oh cool!" and ask more questions about what I did, but sometimes (too often for my tastes) I would get this wide eyed look of but-the-woman's-place-is-in-the-home followed by an awkward vibe and strained conversation.

If a man is the one who leaves the home to support the family and get an education, no one EVER questions it. It's perfectly kosher. Although, there is some sexism men have to deal with if they choose to be stay-at-home dads. Or domestic dads, as I like to call Scott. Frankly, Scott is a much better "home maker" (although he hates it when I use that word) then I ever was or could be. The food he cooks is delicious, he's very attentive and caring with Evie, and he's really good at working on gardening and house projects, generally he's just better than home economics than I am, and he likes it where as for me it's a chore. (Although when it comes to deep cleaning, that's my specialty :) )

I don't understand the stigma that men can't be good nurturers.

So what we have really works for us. I go to work and get paid to have fun (I'm really not joking when I say I have the best job ever, I don't even like calling it a job), am going to school so I can advance in this career and make more money for us. And it works splendidly. I'm not saying it should work for everyone, because no one is the same. But this is what works for us. Frankly, I was not happy when I was at home all the time. I love working in libraries, and I did before Evie was born. After she was born, I tried the stay at home thing, and it didn't work for me. I've gotten some crap from people for choosing to work, but you know what? I'd rather have a happy stress free family, than one who is forced to be miserable by living up to some people's social and cultural expectations, no matter what they are.

UPDATE:

Scott says the word I should use is "domestic engineer" not "homemaker." Will do that from now on. :)

Another entry about whatever...

Life has been so full lately. I feel like I’ve hit an enlightenment that was lacking in my life before. There are so many things I’ve discovered about myself in the past four years than I’ve ever known about myself in my whole life.

I know this sounds vague, but I would like to say how happy I am. I have a sweet little girl, who I think about every minute of every day, an amazing husband, and an awesome job. I also recently got a grant and a scholarship for school.

Go me.

And it really isn’t the recent bit of good luck that’s done it for me… I find I’m enjoying life more. I love my two-bedroom duplex. I don’t really care that it’s not brand new, or finely crafted, I just care that my two favorite people live here with me. That it’s a safe space for my loved ones and me. That we can spend time cuddling on the couch, reading a book, listening to the radio, or watching a movie. It truly is a sanctuary of peace, reason, and love. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

With each passing day I realize more and more how much I love the fact that I married my husband. He truly is my best friend and I love doing everything with him, from talking about deep universal subject matter to talking about how Subway is not “bland!” (which it isn’t, Scott just doesn’t know what’s worth ordering). I even love playing games with him, which is strange, because I’m extremely competitive, and he always beats me no matter what (except the first night we met, I beat him at Simpson’s Clue).

I feel like I’ve reached a pivotal point in my journey. There are choices I will make now that will affect me the rest of my life, for good or for worse. But I feel like I have a clear head now. All the right choices and answers have never been clearer. My mind has never been this free of confusion from contradictory thoughts.

In the fall I will be visiting family I haven’t seen in years. Most have not met my husband or my little one, and I’m excited to share my little family with them. My brother is getting married to a Brazilian girl he’s known since he was a kid, so we have a good excuse to finally make the trip down and see my family.

I can’t wait to visit my Tio Roger’s house most of all. There was something about his circular spectacles, twirled mustache, and bitter sweet smell of cigar smoke that always made me feel comfortable in his brightly painted home. Spending the summers in Pelotas was truly a highlight of my childhood, and I look forward to revisiting all those memories. I’m excited to walk to the praça, drink guarana and eat salgadinhos and doces at the doceria, to attend a real party for once (Brazilians know how to party), to laugh, sing songs, and tell stories with my family.

Life is good.

Dinosaur must face his greatest challenge yet...

This is a really cute book I checked out from the library. The illustrations are a superb blend of digital collage and illustration, and the typography of the text (which is simply written, however powerfully cute) makes it impossible to read without unbridled enthusiasm. I've read it to Evie about 5 times now and she loves it every time.

Oh and here's a picture I took of her today trying her first Strawberries and Creme Frappuccino from Starbucks. She certainly is her mother's daughter. :)

Dinosaur vs. Frappuccino!


Dinosaur Wins!

Evie slept through the night! (Twice!)

A glorious event has occurred, a blessed event that the seraphs will sing of for eons to come, and their songs will be sweet and beautiful.

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EVIE SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT! Twice! I honestly don't know what happened. I hope this will be a regular thing from now on... Anyways, we've always fought with her to go to sleep. I even tried the whole "let her cry it out" thing but it didn't work. Actually, it kind of backfired on us because it made Evie even more hysterical when we put her in her crib, and she got so stressed that she actually would throw up all over herself if we did it. So we let her sleep with us for the past couple of months, and we tried the crib again the past couple of days, and voila!

Well, maybe not that simple. We have a singing frog that plays music and has a little light on it. We turn it on and let her be hypnotized by the light and music... She cries for a bit, but we say, "sh" and rub her back or belly for a few minutes, wait till she's calmed down a ton, and walk out of the room. She'll wimper for a few minutes, but then we go back in and repeat the process three or four times and usually by the fourth time she'll fall asleep. After that, she's quiet for a whole 8 hours! I can't believe it!

We're hoping it works again... as I type this Scott is trying to get her to calm down in her crib... but so far we haven't been able to. It's like 9.30, so it's kind of late... I hope it works again!

I got a new toof today! (Part 1 of the Lari Crown Saga)

Warning: If the sound of nails scraping on a chalkboard makes you cringe, you probably don't want to read this entry.

All the nightmares I have about losing my teeth or having them fall apart in my mouth, came true about 3 weeks ago while eating some (might I say "very soft") eggs. The back of my crown just broke off into my mouth. For those of you who don't know, I broke my front tooth in half in the 5th grade. It was a humid but uncommonly cold day one Miami morning as I rode my bike to Claude Pepper Penitentiary, so I covered my frigid ears with my hands. I was used to riding my bike this way (I had done so many times before), so for me, it really was no big deal to try to briefly warm up my ears while riding sans manus. What I wasn't used to was a big rock lying right in the middle of the paved sidewalk. What I wasn't used to was hurtling through the air at an amazing speed. What I wasn't used to was landing front tooth first on the sidewalk.

I remember finding it odd that although my giant rodent-like tooth had broken clean in half, I could only find a few bits and pieces of it. It was pulverized, and the pavement pretty much sanded down my tooth the way a nail filer sands down a finger nail. I was rushed to the dentist by my frantic mother who continually said, "I told you, you should've listened when I said to wear that hoodie to school today." (To this day, she still reminds me my front tooth catastrophe is a result of my insubordination at the age of 10. Apparently, 14 years isn't enough time for my mom to just "let it go.") They repaired it that day by filling the missing half of my tooth. I remember how incredibly self conscious my "repaired" tooth made me feel. Imagine being a preteen, now imagine having one of your front teeth look like it was glued together, literally. There was this ever noticable line that went horizontally across the front of my tooth during my preteen years. A few years later, my mouth got really swollen, I started crying in pain, and before I knew it, I was in the dentist's office again, getting a root canal because my tooth was dying (yes, a tooth can die). This whole episode was worse than giving birth in my memory (pain wise). It was honestly the worst pain I have ever experienced. Now I'm not sure if this is because I was young and impressionable when I had it done, or because my anesthesiologist was doing a crappy job, or because my lips and gums had swelled up to the size of a Florida orange by the time I was getting the emergency root canal. I just know it hurt like a mother.

Flash forward a couple of years. I was in Idaho, getting a crown, and Dr. Dick (that is his real name, but it could be interpreted metaphorically well) was setting me up with a new crown for my smile. This was supposed to be the latest and greatest. I was to have a brand new, all porcelain tooth imported from Sweden. Little did I know we would go through what seemed like a thousand porcelain crowns. Every time a new one would come in, we'd try it on, the color would be really off, and we would have to start from scratch. This process went on for months. I would be examined by the lab technician who colored the teeth, by Dr. Dick himself, they would make a crown, and in the end when they tried it on would look really off. After being defeated numerous times, Dr. Dick told me that to have a good match, they needed to break down my other front tooth so I could have two identical crowns in the front. Even without my mother around, I was smart enough to say, "no way."

During this whole ordeal, I went through a series of temporaries, or plastic-like teeth to cover the stump in my mouth so I'm not walking around without a tooth before my crown comes in. One weekend, I was eating out at Olive Garden with my family when my temporary fell out into my pasta. I quickly covered my face which turned bright red, and I whispered frantically to my mom, "my tooth fell out!" My brother and my dad started laughing at me, which made me even more red, and I literally dragged my family out of the restaurant so I could hide in my room for the rest of the weekend until the clinic opened up again on Monday. Seriously, no 17 year old girl should go through this.

The incompetence of the doctor and his associates started building to a boiling point as everyone involved started getting frustrated. At one point the dental technician responsible for painting and baking my porcelain crown falsely accused me of trying to trick her by artifically whitening my teeth after she examined me for a color match. "She colors her teeth!" she yelled as she stormed out of Dr. Dick's office one day. "I refuse to do her crown anymore! She is whitening her teeth!" Dr. Dick then had to step in and basically create the crown himself after his lab associate had a mental melt-down in the clinic. After a couple unsuccessful attempts, he finally produced a crown with a similar color to my natural tooth. When it was finally cemented in however, there was a gap between the top of my crown and where my gum met my tooth, revealing a dark thin line of the ugly stump underneath. "The crown doesn't touch my gums," I said to Dr. Dick. He gave me a tired look and basically told me that the gum would heal, and come down on its own. Now I realize he told me this because he was trying to get rid of me.

It never did.

To be continued...