Oh yeah, Easter

Easter came and went, and we are slowly, but surely, getting deeper into kid-oriented festivities. Due to inclement weather (and the fact that we forgot to bring a coat to Afton's grandparent's house where we had Easter dinner), Afton had her first Easter egg hunt in the great indoors. Not too long after her nap, no less, which explains her lovely 'do.

Yes, Afton figured out early on that there was candy inside the plastic eggs , so there were occasional pauses to test the ware.

But mostly she kept on moving, finding eggs in all sorts of places.

I didn't realize how many eggs/candy that would be for one kid until she had finished the haul.
But she was happy. All in all, a successful hunt.

Meanwhile

While Tony was trying to entertain Afton yesterday (and maybe catch some of the games), I was here:

That's right. The Tabernacle on Temple Square. No, no, I'm not a new MoTab organist. I am but a lowly Intro to Organ student. As part of the class, we got to play on the Tabernacle organ. (Note that the real Tabernacle organist was on hand to pull the stops -- the students weren't allowed to touch.)

There is no flattering angle to catch a pregnant lady....

After we each took a turn on the organ, we did an organ crawl -- a tour of all the stuff behind the pipes. Did you know there's over 11,000 pipes? And it's a good thing I was only 5 months pregnant. The doors and stairways leading to the oodles of pipes are none too wide.

I still play baby stuff on the organ. I frequently question whether I should have jumped into this at the same time I took on life as a stay-at-home mom. (I think I overestimated how much practicing could get done during nap time along side the running of the house and doing my church calling stuff....) I generally feel like phantom of the opera when I practice because the only spot to put the organ (which I got for free -- and that's a whole other story) was our next to the furnace in our (unfinished) basement storage room. But, the organ is a beautiful instrument and it's nice to occasionally have a little music back in my life after a 10-year hiatus.

And, no, I don't think Tony is catching a fraction of the March Madness games that he'd like to watch.

Final Advice on March Madness Eve

As the only March Madness bracket-winner in the household, I thought I'd share my winning selection strategy with all of you who may be making final choices tonight. Here's the strategy that took me to the top:

(1) As a general rule, West coast over East coast. Sorry, but my ancestors trekked westward along the Mormon Trail, and I grew up literally a hop, skip, and a jump from the Oregon Trail. Westward Ho!

(2) Keep it personal. Choose schools/places family or friends have attended/lived.

(3) Be geographically aspirational. Pick schools in places you would like to live over places you would not want to live.

(4) Pay some attention to the seed thingies. Evidently those numbers by the team names do mean something about the quality of the team.

(5) Go with your gut. For example, the year I won, Vanderbilt was ranked/seeded (Tony tells me that a rank is different than a seed...) higher than the team they played. However, I got recruiting material from Vanderbilt when I was applying to law schools and it was very snooty. I couldn't bring myself to choose a snooty school. Vanderbilt lost. I got extra points for picking the lower seed/ranked team.

(6) Don't watch college basketball. Don't do it before you fill out your brackets, and especially don't watch during the tournament. Too much time and tension involved. It can turn mild-mannered men (who shall remain nameless) into object-throwing, muttering, cursing creatures.

(7) When faced comparable choices, consider mascots and team colors. You don't want a lousy looking winner.

(8) Don't think of yourself as having entered a competition. That will make you feel bad when you lose. Think of yourself as having donated a small sum to a friend as a present. After all, if all your friends were pitching in $5.00 to buy a birthday gift for someone, you'd donate and you wouldn't feel bad that they got the nice whatever. And then if the nice whatever ends up coming back to you, it's just a nice surprise.

(9) Be loyal to those you love. In my winning bracket, I got to the point where I had to choose between Kansas and North Carolina. Now I'd rather live in North Carolina than Kansas (see strategy point #3), but I also love Tony and Tony loves Duke and true Duke fans hate North Carolina. I'd rather live with the man I love in Kansas than live in North Carolina, so I picked Kansas. Kansas won. I won.

(10) Don't tell the bracket organizer, who probably loves March Madness and yearns desperately to win year after year but never has, that this was your strategy. He will be on the verge of tears if he knows he's forking over the kitty to someone with a no-nothing-about-the-sport (albeit a winning) approach to March Madness.

And no, I'm not filling out a bracket this year. As Tony might say, "I have no more mountains left to climb."

What gives?

Whenever I even talk about getting on a ladder, Tony gets nervous. The same applies to chairs I use to reach the top shelves in our kitchen. This actually happens on a regular basis because I'm a whopping 5-feet tall and can't reach much of anything without a little boost. Tony's paranoia always gets worse when I'm pregnant as he perceives my ordinary bad balance to be worse. I've never fallen, so I think his perception is whacked, but I'm not above preying on his fears a bit. He'll reach most anything for me if I look like I'm about to head for something more than a foot above my head.

The other Saturday I came home and found this: Tony hacking at our peach tree with a handsaw, and

Afton CLIMBING ON THE LADDER!

Note the placement of Afton's toy on the step just beyond her reach.
Which inevitably prompts Afton to...

climb even higher.

Don't get me wrong. Afton wasn't in any grave danger (perhaps small danger, but not grave). So my only response was, "You mean to tell me that I can't get on a ladder, but our not-quite-two-year-old child can?"

After explaining to me all the many reasons why that was in fact true -- including that I myself have professed to a lack of coordination -- Tony eventually said, "I didn't think you'd be home so soon..."

So here's a special thank you to my in-laws who got me a step stool for Christmas. I love it, partly because it's so much easier to maneuver than our chairs (especially the swivel chair) when I reach for stuff and partly because Tony seems to go less nutty when I use it. And, as a final note, it's no wonder why Afton prefers her dad to her mom... much more exciting activities with her dad around. :)

And the Ultrasound Says...

It's a girl!

We're excited. Truth be told, I kind of wanted a girl. I wanted Afton to have a sister. I will admit, though, that this second girl puts me in unchartered territory: I grew up in a house full of brothers.

I also worry that Tony will be a tad overwhelmed by a house overrun by females. (Even our cat is a girl.) But he is excited too. It probably helps that Afton currently worships Tony beyond belief. She does a dance of joy every night when he comes home by running around the kitchen, smacking the cupboards at least three times.

So, there you have it. We'll get the full fledge introduction to girl #2 in July (and hopefully not any sooner).

Free Fare Day

Afton is obsessed with buses. "Bus" was one of the first words she learned, and it is still one of maybe six words she can pronounce in a way that people (besides me) know what she's talking about. Since there is a bus stop in front of our house, we do spend a portion of our day doing this:
standing at the window, watching for buses to go by. It gets pretty exciting after 2:30 or so. Not only do the regular city buses drive by, but there's a number of school buses that make an appearance too. Ooooo...

Last week, our local transit authority declared a free fare day. We couldn't resist. A-baby and I hopped on to go see Tony at his office.
Don't let her somber look fool you. She was stoked. In her bus exuberance she has accidently flagged down a couple buses a time or two. It has left me trying to explain to a bus driver that we are not trying to get on the bus, that my little girl just really likes them, and that she was just excited to see it.
On this ride, she alternated between yelling, "Bus!" and yelling, "Daddy!" (The people on the bus thought it was cute for the first few minutes.) Did I mention that she's waved at a couple buses enough that the drivers will honk at her in return?
So the maiden bus voyage went well. The only downside was that we had to leave "Daddy" to go back home. She sobbed. At least Tony knows that she likes him more than she likes the bus.

Moo and meow

Afton and I recently took a trip to visit my parents. I think it's safe to say that it was a hit with Afton, minus the airport... but we'll stick to the good stuff.

Aside from their charming personalities and abundant love, my parents have two things going for them in terms of Afton's adoration: cats and cows. Not long ago, my parents picked up two extra cats. These cats are part lap cat, part mouser, and part sheepdog (or so the cats like to fancy themselves). One of the cats, Boots, is so friendly that it would jump on Afton's lap looking for attention. I think it's safe to say that this was quite the role reversal for Afton. The only progress she's made with our cat is that it will hang around in the same room with her for 4 seconds before it bolts. Afton, on the other hand, has made oodles of progress as she no longer grabs the cat's tail, but will nicely pet it and (generally) quietly speak to it. At any rate, the "kitties!" provided A-Baby with hours of entertainment.

Even my parent's old cat, was good for something. It's too tired and arthritic to move, so Afton could admire it up close while pointing to its "Ah-ees" "Noose" and "airs" (translation: eyes, nose, and ears).

Then there were the cows, or shall we say, "MOOOOO!!" as Afton calls them.

Afton helped her grandfather load up hay... or should I say, she supervised her grandfather loading up hay while she snacked on a granola bar.

Then, each day I'd bundle her up to help her grandpa feed the cows. I went the first couple days, but then I just started giving her the boot out the door. Too cold. And let's be honest, my dad really just cared about Afton being there.

Aside from all the animals, Afton enjoyed staying up WAY past her bedtime with her grandparents and the extra attention. We can't wait until the next visit.