Her personality is a contradiction that is familiar in many ways. She is fascinated by girlish things–fluffy dresses, her mama’s lipstick, unicorns, princesses, and anything sparkly. But some of her happiest moments have been spent crouching in the dirt, torn jeans rolled up to her knees, scooping a pile of mud and twigs into one of her brother’s dump trucks. It reminds me of when my parents used to find me in my best Sunday dress, making dirtcastles on the sidewalk.

She is very different from me in some ways, however. I don’t believe I have every met anyone who meets life so unguardedly, with arms wide open. I know alot of that is the gift of a happy childhood, but her vivid exuberance for life is built into who she is in such an intrinsic way that I believe she will carry it with her for the rest of her life, tempered as it might be by life. In that she resembles her Tia Sara, her Mamaita, and the great grandmother who I only know through stories.

Julia is also very bossy.
She starts many of her sentences out like this:

“Okay, Mama. Here’s the deal…”

I’m constantly reminding her that I’m not her daughter–she is my daughter. She usually giggles, blushes and says “Oh, right.”

Julia, I hope you never lose that excitement and fierce joy in living. I hope you never lose that desire to know and be close to everyone around you, or that instinct to fill their needs. I hope you keep that love of doing, that desire to have your hands in everything–but learn when you have done all you can, and you have to let the rest go.

I continue to be in awe of this brilliant little spirit the Lord has placed into my life–not simply as a responsibility but as a blessing in and of herself. I’m excited to see her grow into the woman she will become. But I hope it doesn’t come too fast. She still fits on my lap, and right now, that’s enough for me.

This is Jacob, my ridiculously cute nephew. He is a little more than a year younger than my son John, and watching him is like looking at John in retrospect. It’s so fun watching his personality slowly come through as he learns to express himself. He has the most adorable shrieky laugh, and while he looks a lot like his dad, I can still see a lot of my sister in his face.

I can also see him a few years down the road with spiky haircut and a stuffed tiger. Good luck, Sara!

Julia is just like her father: they are both planners. Their brains (of their own accord and without consulting anyone) automatically formulate elaborate plans dictating exactly how the day is supposed to go. I, who rarely plan further than a few hours in advance, often don’t discover their agendas until I have unwittingly trespassed against them. A bedtime rarely goes by that Julia doesn’t sit bolt upright in bed and cry, “OH, NO! We didn’t have our puppet show!”

Puppet show?

Lately it’s been a “tea party”. After several nights of tea party lamentations, this morning Julia finally got her wish. It followed my planning process exactly: on sheer whim I discarded the craft project I was beginning and took a Dora The Explorer towel out of the linen closet. We spread it on the living room floor and began to assemble a feast of animal crackers, sliced poundcake, and root beer floats with mint ice cream (the tea). There was much pinky-lifting, teacup clinking, and vaguely british-accented conversation. Now my children have had enough sugar to last them the coming week, but tonight at least I won’t be hearing about overlooked tea parties. Instead, I’m sure, there will be an (un)birthday party we failed to throw!

My neighbor just held a class on making hair clips and barettes for little girls. I’ve been accumulating a stash of ribbon in anticipation–I even jerry rigged my own ribbon box to hold it all.

The class was great. I came home with four fairly decent novice attempts, and all the knowledge I need to make hundreds more. I’ve actually been avoiding the wider ribbons, thinking they would be awkward to make into bows, only to find out that most of what I have is too thin. Go figure! Well, I suppose that means I need to go shopping. What a shame!

Julia also proved she has my blood running through her veins; when she saw the bows, rather than saying “Can I wear one?” .. she asked “Can I make one?”

That’s my girl.

Julia loves Mondays. Every week she attends an hour long gymnastics class at The Little Gym. Only one other child is in her class, another little girl whom she gets along with really well. Today she was the only one there, and although I’m sure she missed her friend, I know she didn’t mind the one-on-one attention.

Before Jeff went back to work, he and Julia established a Monday tradition: Little Gym was always to be followed by cupcakes from a cute little bakery boutique down the street called Lily Janes. The shop sells the most adorable cupcakes that are almost as good to look at as they are to eat. It’s a great way to end the afternoon, and just in time to spoil our appetites for dinner!

Recently I got to teach a class on starting a home-based business. I was thrilled at the opportunity because I’ve been self-employed, working from home for the past 4 1/2 years. For 3 of those years my business has been my family’s sole income.

I had the opportunity to teach a bunch of women who are in a situation similar to mine–we have children and have made a commitment to being an at-home parent, but we want to help contribute to the welfare of our families.

I got a lot of good feedback from the class, but I think I came away from it more inspired and excited than anyone else. One of the things I tried to really emphasize was the need to broaden our horizons and seek out those talents we may not have yet explored or discovered. To that end, I’ve been trying my hand at some new things.

My recent kick has been clay–I started with miniature food, and have just begun making clay flowers, which I am going to use this tuesday during a class on how to make cute hair bows and barettes. I’m excited to learn!

Three years ago today I experienced the best day of my life. I woke up at around 7am and spent the next hour checking and replying to emails. At 8am I took a shower and packed a little bag before kissing my daughter goodbye. 9am found me in the waiting room of St. Luke’s hospital in Boise, and the next three hours were pretty intense! At 12:12 pm on April 19th, 2006 John Arthur Haskell was born.

My doctor let me hold him, but only for a few moments, because he wasn’t breathing. The NICU team was already in the room to whisk him away and spend the next several minutes working on him. Eventually a freshly washed, bundled, (and breathing) little boy was returned to me and I was able to spend some time with the little person whom I had been getting to know for the previous 9 months.

I don’t mean to suggest that the day my daughter was born wasn’t a truly joyful occasion–or that the day I was married wasn’t wonderful and memorable–but the day John was born was perfect. I can’t begin to describe to you the elation that comes with bringing a child into the world, not to mention the massive runner’s high you’re on after labor! With Julia I didn’t experience these things as much because I had to undergo an emergency c-section, which meant I held my daughter for the first time an hour and a half after she was born, and I was on so much morphine I could barely stay awake. With John I was entirely present, and had the hospital not had a 24 hour mandatory stay policy, I would have headed home in time for dinner.

Baby John turned three yesterday. When he was born we were still living in Alaska, but to avoid having another c-section, we stayed with my (very gracious) sister and brother-in-law in Boise, and took advantage of the superior medical care. My brother-in-law’s name is John, as is my father’s (whom Baby John was named after), and so to avoid confusion, we dubbed him “Baby” John, and the name has stuck to this day. I’m sure he’ll want to abandon it before he starts dating, but it’s how I’ll always think of him.

When Baby John was about 18 months old, he suddenly became aware of vehicles. We didn’t have any car toys, only having parented a girl to that point, no car-specific movies, or anything that would have really encouraged him in that direction, but overnight he became a car fanatic. “Car” was his first word. He hasn’t really taken interest in anything else since then, and now owns a truly impressive collection of Matchbox cars, car-themed clothing and bedding, and his favorite song on my ipod is (of course) the theme to the movie “Cars” by Sheryl Crowe (“Real Gone”). The collection grows with each birthday and christmas–his most recent acquisitions have been a Lightning McQueen (from the movie “Cars”) comforter and a battery-operated LED Lightning McQueen tshirt. For Christmas I am building him a cabinet to store his cars.

Before I met Baby John, I wondered how I could possibly love another child as much as Julia, unless they happened to be exactly like her. John is her polar opposite, and I absolutely adore him. Julia is my sunshine–bright, constant, irrepressable, and full of cheer. John is my moonlight: a softer, darker gleam. He is sensitive and has a well of emotion that surprises me sometimes. He is also my most affectionate child, never short of hugs or kisses or begging for a lap to curl up on. He will tug at my shirt while I am otherwise occupied, insistently crying “Mama! MAMA!” as though he has something of vital importance to communicate. “What, John?” I finally ask distractedly.

“I love you.”

More than once I’ve had John leave what he’s doing and run up to me to “fix” something for me–my toes are hanging out from under the blanket, or I’ve dropped or can’t reach something. His compassion and awareness of other people reminds me of his father. Also like his father, he has an eye for detail. He’s always the first to notice when his Mamaita’s home-decor changes in some way, or when she’s had her hair done. He also has no concept of the word “quiet”. It’s entirely foreign to him, much to my dismay during sacrament meeting!

One month after John was born, I wrote the following blog post about him:

He’s still incredibly tiny.
He gets really irate if he thinks he’s being ignored.
He’s not happy unless he’s so warm his face turns red.
He will only sleep with the light on.
He starts his “day” at 11pm.
He snores.

No one can make him happy like Mom can.

***
John has definitely outgrown his “tiny” phase. I think he’s the biggest 3 year old I’ve ever seen.
He’s happy to play (not so quietly) on his own, absorbed in his own thoughts, until his affection gauge turns up low, and he races over to the nearest parent to refill.
He was so jealous of his sister’s nightlight that we had to get him his own, even though they share a room.
He’s still a night-owl like his mama, waking up just as it’s time to go to bed.
He still snores.

And no one can make him happy like Mom can.

Happy Birthday, little guy. Ka-chow!