upstate

Our Memorial Day weekend was certainly memorable. Productive, too, as I, for one, was able to check several things off of my bucket list.

We started our weekend a day early -- at 4:00 am Friday morning, to be precise, when we pulled out of Brooklyn and headed north. We stopped for a quick breakfast in Scranton, PA (thinking fondly as we ate of those fictional Dunder Mifflin employees we love so much), then continued up the road to the now nonexistent settlement of Harmony (currently known as Oakland), Pennsylvania, to see the site where, on the banks of the Susquehanna River, the Aaronic Priesthood was restored to Joesph Smith. A nice memorial has been built, but all that is left of the home where Joseph and Emma lived is a small foundation. Immediately next door is an old cemetery where both Emma's parents and her infant son are buried. It was rainy and muddy and cold, so we didn't linger, but I was glad we took the short detour to make this stop.

A few more hours up the road and some stunning views of the Fingerlake District later, we arrived at the Peter Whitmer Farm in Fayette (now known as Waterloo), New York. Next door to the homestead is the beautiful Fayette Chapel, which was designed to match the style of other churches built in the early 19th century. It was here, in the Visitor Center wing of the building, where our missionary-led tour started. It was also here where Caleb threw a glorious tantrum that ended in a self-inflicted time out on the couch.

The Whitmer home, for those who don't know, is the site where, on April 6, 1830, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was formally organized. Fifty to seventy people crowded into the tiny home as the first orders of church business were conducted. Although the home is not original, the spirit felt there as we were reminded of the miracles that took place on this land was real and strong.

Next on our list were the remaining church history sites in Palmyra, New York. We first visited the Grandin Print Shop where the Book of Mormon was first printed. This tour was a pleasant reminder of my brief book-binding days.

 Notice the ink stains on the wall. Those are all original.

Next stop was the Smith Family homestead. Our sister missionary tour guide was Italian and spoke with a very thick accent. Consequently we didn't understand much of what she told us as she took us through the log home, the original frame home, and the accompanying threshing barn. But that was okay, since stories of the events that happened here, from the nighttime visits of the Angel Moroni to the Golden Plates safely hiding under the hearth bricks, were pretty ingrained in our memories anyway.

Our guide said goodbye to us as we neared the entrance to the Sacred Grove, which I really appreciated. Walking through those woods was something I wanted to do quietly as a family. And then the small but incredibly meaningful miracles began in earnest. Miracle #1: The rain, which had been falling all day, finally stopped. Miracle #2: The boys, who got a stern talking to from Blake in the restroom before we entered the grove, not only finally behaved themselves (it had been a long, rough day with them up to this point), but even walked reverently the entire way through. These two combined made for exactly the kind of experience I was hoping for as we walked through the Sacred Grove.

Before we left the neighborhood of the Smith homestead, we drove by the Palmyra temple, which is about a half-mile away on the original Smith family property.

Our last church history stop was the Hill Cumorah. Because we were tired, we opted out of the guided tour and, in fact, skipped the visitor's center altogether. We climbed up the [unbelievably steep] hill, admired the the monument at the top as well as the beautiful view, then headed back down to begin our search for dinner.

My favorite part of the day was, hands down, our visit to the Sacred Grove, but if you asked Garrett what his was, he'd tell you without skipping a beat that it was the hotel stay. It was nothing extravagant, but it had a pool, which he and his brother were dying to swim in (even though neither of them can swim or are particularly brave when carried to the "flooded part," which is Garrettese for "deep end"). It was also a place where you could watch cartoons in bed and pick whatever you wanted from the buffet at breakfast. They were both in heaven. In fact, on our drive home, Garrett spontaneously said to me, with a sigh of longing in his voice, "Mom, I love you, but I really want to live at the hotel."

If the hotel was their first love, Denny's was their close second. There was one next door to the Holiday Inn where we stayed, which made it a convenient stop for dinner after our long day of sightseeing. The boys loved picking their meal from their extensive kid's menu, and asked after we'd finished if we could eat there again sometime. Unfortunately, we don't live near a Denny's, but that wouldn't stop them from asking. The next day around dinnertime, as we were driving back home, the boys requested that we eat at "the Denny's by the hotel" again. That obviously was not going to happen, but we did check the GPS to see if we were near any. The closest one was about an hour away, but that didn't deter them. They waited -- and very willingly -- until we reached it, and once we got there perused the menu for something new to try. I get the feeling that this will be the pit stop of choice on future road trips.

The next morning, after filling ourselves full of the continental breakfast, we checked out of Garrett's beloved hotel and headed west toward Niagara Falls. Through a series of texts en route, we coordinated with some Brooklyn friends, the Durhams, who were also spending their holiday weekend upstate, to meet up at the Falls where we arranged to ride the Maid of the Mist together. The boys were excited for a boat ride, but two of them probably wouldn't have been had they realized the soaking they were in for. Niagara Falls was even more breathtaking than I imagined it would be, and I'm so glad we made the trek to see them. My only disappointment was that the lens of our camera got a little wet and so a lot of our pictures turned out blurry. I guess we might have to go back someday.

We started the journey home right after we saw the falls because, really, how could you top that? As we wound our way through the tree-covered hills ("mountains"?) of upstate New York, I commented how pretty it was and asked the boys what differences they could identify between there and our home in Brooklyn. "Here is a jungle!" Caleb said, his voice brimming with awe as he took the view in. Comparatively speaking, I suppose it is. I could also interpret his comment to mean that we need to get away more, which I wholeheartedly agree with. There is a lot of this part of the country that I still want to see, and I'm already starting to dream about where we should spend the long 4th of July weekend (Pennsylvania? Boston? The possibilities are endless, really). After all, I'm sure the boys would love another night in a hotel and another meal at Denny's.

sunny day snapshots

 The swings are his favorite, if the way he giggles and kicks his legs as I push him is any indication.

Not to be outdone, Caleb joins us to push Bigger Baby in the swings.

Matthew learned how to blow kisses over Mother's Day weekend (perfect timing!), and now he won't stop. It's the best.

Just monkeying around, which is what he does best.

Yesterday was the first borderline unbearably hot and humid day of the season and the best way we found to deal with it was with ice cream cones.

After being complimented yet again by adoring strangers, Garrett asked me, "Mom, don't you get tired of people telling you that Matthew is so cute?" No, no I don't. Because he is.

I mean, seriously.

Fascinated by a colony of busy ants.

Before they could be persuaded to say goodbye to ants, they built them a "grocery store" stocked with greenery "so they wouldn't get hungry."

according to the professionals

At our pediatrician's suggestion, after Matthew's 12-month well check-up, I called Early Intervention to see if he needed physical therapy to get him up on two feet. Of course, a few days after I did, he finally began pulling himself to a stand. I mentioned this to the doctor when I saw him again in passing, to which he replied, "Isn't that they way it always works?" He then suggested that, since all it required of me was time, I might as well continue to move forward with things, just in case. He had a point, so instead of calling our case worker to cancel the whole thing, I went ahead with the evaluation.

The physical therapist came last week to take a look at Matthew. She examined him pretty thoroughly, the results of which determined that there is nothing physically wrong with him; he is just taking his sweet time (a fact I attribute to his mellow personality). He was slow enough, though, to almost qualify for services. If he'd been two or three weeks more behind, he would have been eligible. But I'm actually very relieved that he's not. My child is, as I suspected from the beginning, growing just fine, albeit at his own tortoise-like pace. Before she left, the therapist taught me some things I could do with Matthew to encourage him to step it up a bit, which have proved very helpful.

Meanwhile, when the same pediatrician suggested that I get Caleb in to see a neurologist for his unintelligible speech, I rolled my eyes (when he wasn't looking, of course). A few days after that appointment, I was able to get in touch with the school district to schedule his evaluation, which took place in two separate visits over the course of the last two weeks. At our first meeting, I discussed his medical and social history with the coordinator while the psychologist checked to see if his cognitive skills were up to speed. Then the speech therapist came in to do her evaluation. Shortly after she started, though, Caleb lost steam and it was unanimously decided that she continue with him on another day. When we went back, he was more than cooperative (meaning, he got violently angry when she had to ask him several times to repeat what he had said, which did much to cement his case).

In the end, she said that, while he is an incredibly sharp, bright little boy, his speech issues, the main problem of which is correct sound production, are moderate to severe. She still has to present his case to the committee, but she told me that it was very likely that things would be quickly squared away for him to begin receiving speech therapy this fall. In the meantime, he'll be given a hearing test to rule out any speech problems there, as well as an occupational therapy evaluation, since the psychologist, in the course of her own evaluation, thought that his fine motor skills were lacking.

So there you go -- the professionals have spoken. And I couldn't agree more with their verdicts.

a child's prayer (reprise)

I wrote late last year about the evolution of Caleb's prayers. To update, they have since regressed to irreverent goofiness, which is unfortunate considering how sweet they once were. But he's a bouncy 3 1/2-year-old, so things are bound to change again soon.

Around the time that Caleb's prayers first began to be so sincere, Garrett's became more automatic and repetitive. He'd say them without thinking, and every one sounded exactly the same. Just as repeatedly, we'd encourage him to be more thoughtful when he prayed, and eventually he agreed that that was a good idea.

He started by mentioning all of the things that he'd done during the day, followed by the things he was looking forward to. Sometimes he added random thoughts he'd had throughout the day. And then he began adding flowery adjectives.

A few weeks ago a member of the Primary presidency approached me after church to tell me that Garrett had said one of the prayers in Sharing Time that day and how impressed she was with how he did. I agreed that he'd recently become more verbose when he prayed, adding that his new favorite word to use as he did so was "wonderful."

"YES!" she replied, nearly jumping out of her shoes, which made me wonder just how many times he'd used the word "wonderful" in that particular prayer. If it was anything like what he says at home, it was probably a lot.

Here is an example of a typical Garrett prayer:

Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you for the wonderful day, and we had a wonderful time at the playground, and I love to see my friends, and we had a wonderful dinner, and I really want to get money for the school store, and help me have a wonderful sleep, oh, and the assembly at school was really fun, in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Pretty wonderful, don't you agree?

my little pavlovian puppies

Because they say and do ridiculously hilarious things most of the time and are just as ridiculously adorable, you might be tempted to think that my children are perfect. But in this you would be gravely mistaken. They scream and fight and talk back with the best (worst?) of them. And, of course, since I'm as normal as they are, it's making me want to hibernate under the blankets on my bed until they outgrow these character flaws.

But if there's one thing motherhood has taught me, it's that sleep is impossible with a tattle-tale awake in the house. So instead I gave both Garrett and Caleb an empty baby food jar and, adapting an idea found here, asked them each what their greatest wish was. Garrett, after I told him that he wasn't yet old enough for a Cadillac, told me that he wanted money to spend at the school store; Caleb, after he was informed that a dinosaur was not possible, decided on his very own copy of The Monster at the End of This Book.

I then set the alarm on my phone and told them that if Garrett did no talking back and Caleb did no hitting (both habits which currently rank high as needing to be corrected), they'd each get a lima bean to put in their jar when the alarm went off about a half an hour later. Throughout the day I'd continue resetting the alarm to go off at varying intervals, and if they didn't talk back or hit, they'd continue earning lima beans. And when their jars were completely full, they'd be granted their [second] greatest wish.

We've been at it for three days now, and I'm happy to report that there has been a dramatically reduced amount of talking back and hitting at our house. Because I check them so frequently, both boys are remarkably conscious of their actions, and they love earning lima beans. The ringtone set on my alarm makes us all want to dance, and when it sounds, we all groove for a moment before, like Pavlov's dog, they automatically run to put a bean in their jar, unless, as occasionally happens, they haven't actually earned one. When that is the case, they've been surprisingly accepting of the consequence, though I'm sure it helps to know that they can try again during the next round. And -- bonus! -- even though their goals are distinctly separate, they are each unwittingly striving to meet the other's goal as well. It's a win-win all around!

My children may not be naturally perfect, but apparently I can condition them to be so. Whatever it takes, I say, because as exhausted as motherhood has made me, I'd rather not hibernate through their childhoods.

spring comes to brooklyn

 

Spring has arrived in Brooklyn, and I can think of no better way to celebrate than by visiting the Brooklyn Botanic Garden with my favorite people.

 Tulips,

 lilacs, 

and cherry blossoms. Oh my!