Becoming Midwesterners

So, here we are, living in Illinois and adjusting to life in the midwest.  It's been strange how easy it's been to switch gears into my new reality.  Sometimes I feel as if Spencer and I never lived in Provo, but have always been residents of Illinois.  Everything about our life before seems so distant.  And, obviously, it is (literally), but we've only been out here for a few weeks!  I guess, honestly, when you're home full-time with a baby, it doesn't much matter where you live.  Life goes on pretty much the same as it did before.  And I don't mean this negatively, I just mean that's how I feel.  I can feed, change, bathe, cuddle, and put Grace to sleep no matter where I am.  The routine remains constant whether I be in Utah or Illinois.  I guess, in that way, having a baby with me has made it easier for me to adjust.  My purpose and basic life outline haven't changed much.  I just do it amidst humidity.  :)

I think Spencer's life has changed much more than mine.  A salesman's life and hours are not exactly what you'd call ideal.  But, it really hasn't been as bad as I would have thought.  I guess I can only speak for myself, though.  Spencer may think differently.  :) From my point of view, I get to see Spencer more than before--it's just at different times.  Spencer is home with me for pretty much the entire morning and lunch.  He sees Grace more than he ever did before, minus the fact that he works on Saturdays.  With his previous job and school schedule, on a good day, he only saw Grace for about 2 hours.  More often than not, it was more like an hour and a half to one hour.  She just goes to bed so darn early!  Now, his Grace time has doubled if not tripled.  I love that.  

Plus, since moving to Illinois, we have become a two tennis racket family.  We may never make it to being a two car family, but at least we are covered as far as tennis rackets are concerned. :) Meaning, Spencer and I have already spent many a morning out playing tennis together.  When Spencer is feeling especially amiable, he is willing to go jogging with me as well.  This would never have been an option with his old job.     

So, with the difficult, there comes a lot of good.  Spencer doesn't get home until late every night (minus Saturdays), but there are things to make up for that.  And he's been doing really well selling, so hopefully our crazy plan will work out after all.  

I think that, besides family and friends, the thing I miss the most is my home.  It hasn't been easy to go back to renting, but Spencer and I do feel that this sacrifice will be worth it.  I loved our house so much and Spencer and I put so much of ourselves into it.  We joke that we took about as many pictures of our house and yard before we left as we have of Grace since she was born.  This isn't exactly true, but you get the idea.  We loved that house. :) It hurts to think about it and realize that we're not there to take care of it.  I think often about the grass, the flowers and the cherry tree.  I never thought I could get quite so worked up about a bunch of plants and bricks.  But it was ours.  And it meant so much to us.  But there will be others.  :)  And we're so happy about it's new family.  We give them to our house highly recommended. 

But there is so much to love about Illinois.  We live within 5 minutes of the Mississippi and there is a lovely little jogging trail that curves along it.  And there are bunnies, squirrels, and ground hogs everywhere.  They just hang out in plain sight!  Love that.  Not to mention it's nice and green here and the people are really friendly.  Plus, we get to have missionaries over for dinner!  Hooray!  Not so much an option in Provo.  And...we once again live within walking distance of a library.  :)  I couldn't be happier.  Oh, and one more thing: when you live in an apartment building, you can do more than one load of laundry at a time.  That can make it all worth it.  :)   

So, goodbye Utah.  Hello midwest.  And now...the above information in picture form. :)

Some of the many wonderful people we will always remember:

Snapshots of the house and  yard we will greatly miss:

And last but not least, a shot from our drive out to the midwest:

Grace was more than willing to do her share of the driving.  :)

The Kite Runners

For my first official Mother's Day, Spencer surprised me with a lovely pair of genuine, hand-crafted WalMart kites. :0)  I was so excited!  Kite flying is something that has always held such wonderful appeal for me.  It  seems such a romantic pastime.  I believe that if there are still people in this world who spend windy afternoons flying kites, then all is well.  

Spencer has mentioned to me many a time (and quite nostalgically) his kite flying experiences as a child.  He describes himself lying on a blanket with his brother and dad, relaxing and watching their kite fly higher and higher into the blue.  So, I, of course, had already decided to get Spencer a nice kite for his birthday. And he, of course, beat me to it.  Spencer is the murderer of birthday surprises.  :0)  But, at least this way he got to pick the kites out and I didn't accidentally buy the cheap kind that doesn't work--which I am always apt to do.  

At any rate, we took our kites on their maiden voyage that very day and had a lovely time.  Grace, turns out, is an amazing kite-ist.          

First, Spencer taught her the ins and outs of being a chill kite flyer.  She listened and studied attentively.

Then came the legendary hand-off.

Grace got it down to a science.

And soon, she discovered that kites were not only good for flying, but for eating, as well.

She found the whole thing so easy, she decided to lay down for a bit and rest (notice the kite continues to fly with ease, as is evidenced by the string still held taut).

Spencer was pretty good, too (as seen with the more advanced, but slightly less restful, two-handed kite!).

And now, a shot of the happily soaring turtle kite.

All in all, the afternoon was a big success.  As was Mother's Day.

P.S.  This blog steals its title from the book, "The Kite Runner," which I highly recommend.  It got me interested in all things kite and Afghanistan.  For those who have read it, Spencer and I took turns being each other's "kite runner."  I loved it.

An overabundance of blogging ideas...

I finally seem to have developed a taste for blogging.  And it all came because, for once, I couldn't blog when I actually wanted to.   It's funny how I tend to not miss things until they're gone.  Ever since Spencer and I moved to Moline, IL., I have spent many a moment fantasizing about all of the amazing blog posts I would create about our adventures once we finally got the internet for REAL in our apartment (sneakily stealing it from other unsuspecting people's unsecured wireless routers does NOT count, though it does seem a cheaper alternative...).  At any rate, I am so excited!  So, here it goes.        

"Snowed-in" in mid-April?

This is why we prune our trees, prune our trees, prune our trees; 

this is why we prune our trees, so we can get out of the garage.

Stupid snow.

Our poor little tulips.  You can do it guys!  Rise above the ridiculous weather! 

Violated

About two weeks ago, Spencer and I discovered a very unwelcome little furry visitor in our home.  Actually, I discovered it.  I was happily sitting at the computer wasting time when I noticed a little, gray streak dart out from our fireplace and head for the hallway.  I, of course, shrieked and jumped up on the couch.  I couldn't believe it!  A mouse!  In MY house!  The house that I had spent so much more time cleaning then any other place Spencer and I had lived in.  A house which, I believed, did not deserve to have a disgusting, loathsome mouse as an intruder.  I know the deserve comment is silly and that having a mouse is not a punishment for some strange cleaning crime (or maybe it IS...), but I felt like it was.  I instantly saw the arrival of this mouse as a painful rebuke of my housewifely cleaning prowess.  I felt violated.  I felt our house was violated.  And I decided right then and there that either the mouse was out, or I was.

Ironically enough, earlier that very same day, my visiting teacher had mentioned having seen a mouse in the living room back when this house was occupied by the previous owners.  I laughed at her comment (and secretly felt grossed out and disgusted) and assured her that we had never seen any evidence of that kind and weren't worried about it at all.  Little did WE know...

After the first sighting, Spencer jumped into action to preserve my sanity and keep me from putting the house up for sale that very moment on ksl.com.  He rigged up a make shift mouse trap using some lettuce, cheese, a garbage can, and some string.  He set it up in front of the offending closet where we were sure the mouse was hiding and scheming and then lay waiting.  His job was to pull the string when said mouse appeared and tried to eat the bait; mine was to lull the mouse out of the closet.  I failed, he failed, and the trap failed.  The mouse had vanished.

Having lost the mouse, we began searching for its secret lair of filth.  Once found, we ammonia-ed everything he could have possibly dragged his nasty paws across and filled in all mouse-shaped holes within and without the house with caulk.  But I still felt violated.  I went to bed having no doubt that the mouse would be running all over the house triumphantly while we were sleeping.  Stupid mouse.

The next day, Grace and I took many, many walks.  I was willing to do ANYTHING to get out of the house and avoid the constant feeling of imaginary scampering paws across my feet and legs.  I still naively hoped that the mouse had left the house while we were on our mouse hunt and was currently unsuccessfully trying to get back in through his now caulked entrance holes.  But, nevertheless, I wasn't taking any chances of a meeting.

Later that night, Spencer and I were sitting on the couch and mouse sighting number two occurred.  This time by Spencer.  I sent him straight to the store to buy a real mousetrap.  I stayed on the couch the whole time he was gone and avoided allowing any part of me touch the mouse-infected ground.  As soon as Spencer got home, he set up the mouse trap and we began our vigil.  I, for one, was NOT sleeping until the mouse was gone!  

It was then that we met our little intruder on a more personal basis.  Mere minutes after the trap was set up, the mouse came out and started sniffing around.  It was baited with peanut butter and the little guy apparently could not resist.  We decided he was either desperately hungry or incredibly stupid.  Or both.  We sat there watching as he inspected the trap and naively decided it was safe to enter.  He crawled into the back and we waited anxiously for the little trap door to shut and lock him in.  Nothing.  The mouse was in there happily and freely enjoying a free meal of peanut butter.  Argh!  

We discovered the problem, fixed it, and again began our vigil.  Only five minutes later, the mouse appeared again and wandered hungrily into his peanut butter lined heaven.  And...snap!  One very humanely captured little mouse!  Spencer then took the trap and let Mr. Mouse out of it a few blocks away from our house, with a promise that he would never return or tell ANY of his friends about our house.  :0)    

We set the trap up in various places throughout the house to catch any relatives or friends that had snuck in previously and have discovered none.  Turns out, our little mouse was a loner.  A rogue mouse.  

It's funny how after the mouse was caught and banished I began feeling sentimental towards him.  I told Spencer what a cute little mouse he had been and that, maybe, had he agreed to pay a little rent (plus utilities of course...), he could have stayed on with the girls downstairs.  :0)  I blame Disney.

Mice are gross.  End of story.    

    

"Our teeth owe so much to the kindness of others"

Spencer and I made the amazing discovery that throughout our little over two years of marriage, we have never had to buy toothpaste.  You may be thinking, "Oh, they've probably just been living off the little toothpaste samples from the dentist." WRONG!  For some reason, people have just repeatedly donated full-sized containers of toothpaste to the cause of the Bardsley family teeth.  How kind it is for others to be so concerned about our dental hygiene.  :0)  

I don't even remember exactly how all of this started.  I mean, toothpaste isn't like baby clothes.  You don't grow out of your toothpaste and decide to kindly pass it on to someone else. :0)  I think it must mostly come from having friends who've worked in the dental field and a mother-in-law who is very random in her generosity.  :0)  At any rate, we can only hope that this lovely little streak will continue.  I feel half-afraid that should this generosity cease, Spencer and I would find ourselves horribly out of vogue and out of practice when confronted with the toothpaste buying world.  I suppose at that point we'd just have to give up toothbrushing all together.  For our sake and yours, may the toothpaste charity go on forever!        

To grow or not to grow...

I finally posted a picture of Grace at six months (since she's now almost seven months...) and realized that she looks pretty much exactly the same in that six month picture as she did in the five and four month old ones.  I thought I'd give a little explanation of that. 

        Grace hasn't been growing much. 

Maybe a little more explanation would help.

Just before Grace's six month appointment, we went to her follow up appointment with the ENT in Salt Lake (about her acid reflux).  He said everything looked fine (really, he just asked me if Grace seemed to have been doing better and I said yes.  Stupid.  Did I really have to go all the way to Salt Lake for that?  Couldn't I have just told him over the phone?  And if he's just going to take my word for it, why do we need him at all?) except that he was worried about her lack of weight gain.  I tried just to blow off his concern.  Grace was happy, alert, active, and sleeping great.  She seemed fine to me.  But just in case, I decided to start with rice cereal before we went to her six month appointment in an effort to chunk Grace up.

However, at her six month appointment, our pediatrician was also quite worried.  My rice cereal scheme had not worked as I might have hoped.  Rats!  Dr. Anderson decided that Grace needed to start power-packing.  Aka, the baby fat diet.  She gave me this crazy program that included feeding Grace lots and lots of food (as well as continuing to nurse) AND sneaking extra calories into her food via butter.  Weird.  So, I melt one teaspoon of butter per ounce of whatever I'm feeding Grace (bananas, rice cereal, prunes, sweet potatoes, whatever) and give it to her.  She seems to like it.  

Really, she's quite the spoiled little baby.  People keep asking me if I've given her anything she hasn't liked yet and the truth is that she's liked everything she's had thus far.  But...I'd blame that on the butter.  Everything tastes better with a little butter snuck in.  I'm afraid she'll grow up with a mom-induced butter addiction.  But, hey, as long as she gains weight, right?  

And...she has.  She's been doing great.  After just a week of the power packing (and a blessing from Spencer), Grace had gained six ounces.  This was after a gain of only eight ounces in two months.  Then, just a little under two weeks later, she had gained another nine and a half ounces.  Hooray!  I've been pretty proud of her.  She should be entered into some kind of baby "biggest gainer" contest.  :0)

I keep wondering if she's going to get stretch marks from growing so fast after having grown so little for so long.  :0)  Probably not.

I guess the good thing in all this is that Grace hasn't grown out of her clothes as fast as other babies.  That makes it easy on us.  Plus, she gets to wear extra cute outfits for extra time.  A definite bonus.  

But, I'm so glad and relieved she's growing.  I wonder if I should have just started her on solid food a little earlier.  Her doctor at her four month appointment told me I didn't need to worry about it until six months or so unless I wanted to.  And, being lazy, I didn't.  I guess I'll just be more vigilant with the next one.  Poor first children.  They may get 100% of mom and dad's attention but they also get to experience 100% of mom and dad's first timer's mistakes.  

"Me? Are you talking about me?"

The continual battle of the bow.  She wants to eat it.  I want her to wear it.

Grace and some of her friends.