Saturday, September 24, 2011

Temple Square, Pantsless Toddler, and A Hike Up A Hill

Today Anya and I had an adventure at Temple Square! Before I begin, I just want to say that the destination is beautiful and brilliantly gives a view of the work and dedication that the Mormon Pioneers put in to building this sacred place of worship.

We went with some friends to tour Temple Square. Daniel and I had planned on doing an endowment session, however since Women's Conference was taking place later this evening, ALL of the temples within 50 miles closed early. (Wow, that's weird to say...all? I must live in the Salt Lake Valley or something!) Instead, Anya and I went with our friends to tour Temple Square. Daniel opted to stay home since his darn flat feet make his legs tire out pretty easily. (Plus it's football season...)

I found free parking on the street outside an apartment complex (YAY!) but you get what you pay for and where I parked was 0.5 miles away from temple square and located on top of a pretty steep hill relative to the temple. (It was still worth it...) So I put Anya in the stroller and had a nice little stroll down the hill to our destination. Our friends had opted for metered parking right outside temple square, so naturally they got in LONG before we did. After some confusion in finding one another, we proceeded to take the kids to the South Visitors Center. This building contains information about the temple itself; displaying a model of the temple and what's inside. There are interactive photo galleries which explain the purpose of each room in the temple. The Salt Lake temple is unique in that it holds a conference room which, as I understand (seeing as how I was trying to keep a small person from leaping head-first out of her stroller at the time this was explained) is used for meetings of the first presidency of the church and the quorum of the twelve. I didn't know this room even existed until today! That goes to show you learn something new every day.

In trying to placate my poor bored toddler, I lifted her up to the large window surrounding the building. From where we stood, we had an unobstructed view of the temple. As Anya observed the people walking by, the trees and flowers, and finally the temple itself, I took the opportunity to tell her about the temple. I began by helping her identify what the temple is by pointing to the building and saying, "Anya, look. That's the temple! Anya, say 'temple!'" While she didn't say the word "temple," she did get the word association down and would look toward the temple whenever she heard someone say the word "temple."

Our little group then proceeded to the area where displays are shown of the 19th century tools, building materials, and plaques telling about each of these things. There's also a statue and video of Brigham Young receiving the revelation of where the Salt Lake temple would be built. Thinking of the dedication and faith these people had to make this idea of a temple into a reality is amazing to me.

We then moved to the North Visitor's Center, which is one of my favorite spots in Temple Square. Here is a circular building. On the main floor, the walls are covered with paintings depicting the birth, ministry, suffering in Gethsemane, death, and ressurection of Christ. Each picture is accompanied with a brief explaination written on a podium in front of the painting. In the center of the building is a model of Jerusalem as it would have appeared during the time of the Savior. The model gives descriptions of areas where Christ preached and taught. I took Anya to each picture and briefly told her about what was happening in each painting. I told her that the model was of Jerusalem where Jesus taught.

My favorite part of this visitors' center is the upward sloping spiral. As you walk up, the walls are painted with clouds, distant worlds, and the night sky. It's as if one is at first following the earthly life of our Lord, then we follow him as he symbolically ascends into Heaven. At the top, you are greeted by the Christus statue. To me, it's symbolic of how, after our mortal life is complete, we are given the opportunity to be greeted by our Redeemer in Heaven. The statue looks as if Jesus is greeting the visitors and tourists as he will for many people entering Heaven after this life.

We took a few minutes to sit in the seating provided in this room. Of course, Anya had absolutely no desire to just sit in the stroller while us grown-ups are being boring. I let her out to play on the floor. To my surprise, Anya stood up against the stroller and, while pushing it, used it to walk around the room. I must say, I was quite the proud parent right then. She also made a point of saying hi to everyone in the room. Thankfully most of the people were families with babies her age and sister missionaries. Oh yeah, and janitor polishing the the railing along the wall on the upward spiral. Anya made a point to "help" him before I intervened. I doubt the poor guy would have wanted my sticky, drooly child helping him polish anything. When I grabbed her and apologized, he said he has lots of grandkids who "help" him too, so he understood.

We went to another room which has pictures depicting stories from the Bible, such as Abraham and Sarah being promised a child in their old age, The boy-prophet, Samuel, being awoken by the voice of the Lord, Isaiah's vision of the birth of Christ, and a statue of Adam and Eve. Anya liked the picture of Noah preaching repentance before the flood the most. She also liked Adam and Eve. When I told her about Adam and Eve and how they are our first parents, she kept pointing to them saying, "Dad? Mama?" Also, pretty much any man in any picture who is not Jesus is apparently Daniel. For every picture she saw which included some guy in the multitude following Jesus, she would point to a man and squeal, "Dad!" Mama isn't in any pictures. Poor Mama...

We ended our adventure by attending a presentation about families. We believe that, through ordinances performed in the temple, that families can be sealed together forever, and not be permenantly seperated by death. During this presentation, I was chatting with a Sister Missionary and looked down to see my child frantically ripping her pants off before anyone could catch her. I sounded a bit crazy to this poor Fillipino sister who is still getting acquinted with English when I said, "I liked the part where...my child has taken off her pants..." After a brief, "What the crap is this white lady talking about?!" moment, she looked down to see my pantsless child crawling away as fast as she could! Everyone in the room got a pretty good laugh about that.

After I got my pantsless child back in pants, it was time to go. Seeing as how my free parking spot was located outside an apartment complex and wasn't exactly meant for tourists, I knew that if I didn't get back to the car in the two hour limit the city allows on that street, I was going to get towed. Being towed was not high on my priority list, so Anya and I hurried out of Temple Square and up the steep hill. Going up the hill taught me two things: 1) Holy crap I'm out of shape! and 2) if it weren't for the fact that I could hold onto the stroller, I would have just sprawled out on the grass next to the sidewalk and given up. Anya was so tuckered out she fell asleep on the walk back to the car!

Once we got to the car, I was overjoyed to see that someone didn't know how to parallel park and had scraped the left side of my rear bumper. What cracked me up though was the fact that the driver had not moved the car to a different spot and remained behind my car. After my inital, "I hate people" response, I looked to see how bad the damage was, which wasn't much on my old Ford, and discovered that the other person had dented their front bumper and scraped the paint off. I figured since they didn't move their car, they must not have cared too much about their bumper, and since my bumper had only suffered a cosmetic crack, it wasn't a big deal. I loaded my sleepy child into her car seat, put the stroller in the trunk, and drove home.


I loved spending that quality time with my Anya. Even if she didn't get much out of it since she's so little, we really bonded and had fun together. She loved looking at the pictures and having me tell the stories. She loved the fact that she's getting better at walking. She loved the praise and positive, calm interactions we had together. I found a deeper love and appriciation for being her mom. She really is an amazing little person with her own personality and interests. I'm thankful I got to share with her some of what we believe, even if she's too little to understand most of what I said.

Where's Jake?

There is a family that we are pretty good friends with. The husband's name is Jake, and he and his wife have a little girl the same age as our little girl.

We went to play with them last night, and since Jake works nights, he wasn't there. Anya kept asking me, "Wha Jay?" I didn't know what she was talking about, so I kept asking her to show me. She looked at a picture of Jake, pointed and excitedly said, "JAY!" She then looked at me and again asked, "Wha Jay?"

To which I responded, "Where's Jake?" She smiled and said, "JAY! Wha Jay!"

"Oh, sweetie, Jake's at work, but I am SO proud of you for using your words!"

We then went around their house together, looking for all of the pictures of Jake. Apparently her little friend's daddy is as important as her own daddy.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Cheesecake

Daniel ate a HUGE cheesecake for $100...right after eating 8 slices of pizza...Daniel threw up. Daniel has $100. Daniel has left me stunned and flabbergasted. He hasn't eaten that much food since he was in college...

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

My Twenty-something Birthday

After I gave up on Facebook, I stopped blogging. It wasn't that I wanted to stop blogging so much as I just...couldn't. I'd sit down, start to write, but nothing would come together. I guess I wanted to hide.

My lack of blogging goes together well with my feelings about my upcoming birthday. When I'm deeply hurt by something, I hide until I feel a little better. Soon after my dad died, I could only focus on what a blessing his death was. As I've mentioned before, his body was rapidly deteriorating and there was really no where for him to go besides down. While I was indeed hurting for the months that followed, I pushed that hurt aside. I told myself I needed to help my mom and I needed to be a big girl and be there for my family. Add that to my Stephanieism of normally not being able to cry anyway, and I was able to keep the hurt in its own little place in my mind. I told it that it was safe in that little place and didn't need to go around bugging everything else in there. However, if I've learned anything in this life it's that I often don't know what's best for me. Thankfully, my Redeemer does know what's best for me, and slowly was able to help me remove the pain from its too-small confinement and allow it to exist.

I miss my dad. People can think what they want, but I did love him. For most of my life, I idolized him. I didn't always approve of and/or enjoy some of his behaviors, but I still loved him even if I was too scared to show it. I still needed him. As much as I'm a grown-up who doesn't rely on my parents for financial support, I still need my dad. Who else would be able to help me pull the "Ultimate Prank" on certain individuals who need to be pranked in an inconvenient yet not mean way? No one else could ever wrap me up in a big bear hug like he could (even after I'd had a baby, for that matter).

One thing I always looked forward to in my life was my birthday. Daddy always made a big deal out of my birthday. Even if it was only 30 minutes of playing games with him at the arcade (wow, that made me feel a little old...) he still made a big deal out of me turning another year older. Even after I moved out, he always sent a card to wherever I was living or he and my mother and sister would come visit me. When I turned 20, he came to Provo to take us to Tucanos. (Tucanos is an AMAZING all you can eat Brazillian resturant which costs an arm and a leg but it worth the cost. If you go, make sure you're hungry! I'm not sure how big the chain of resturants is, but I know of at least one in Salt Lake as well as the one in Provo.) He told our waitress it was my birthday, and laughed as I turned beet red while the waiters and waitresses marched out singing the happy birthday song. I'm still not pleased with that opportunity to be embarrassed, but I still feel special.

Last year he sent me a thoughtful birthday card with one of my baby pictures inside. This year, he isn't in this world anymore. When people say it's the little things that are the hardest after someone dies, it's totally true. I'm going to be 23, and I'd rather not have anyone make any kind of real fuss about my birthday. It's really just another day now. Sure, Daniel's doing everything he can to be sweet and make it special (which, by the way, hasn't exactly been easy for him with his mopey, undecisive wife trying to sabatoge the whole thing), but really, without my dad, it just isn't as important as it used to be. I don't need cake or ice cream since I'm making a strong effort to eat healthy. I don't need Daniel to buy me anything since I'm in charge of the bills and I'd really just like that extra money in the bank. Overall, I've obviously turned into a very boring person when it comes to celebrations. Well, except for Halloween, Christmas, Daniel and Anya's birthdays, Arbor Day, (weird, right? I guess I like folige) Easter, Veteran's Day, Thanksgiving, Martin Luther King Jr day, and, of course, the debatably non-existant Eat-Lots-of-Ice-Cream-and-A-Burger Day which, for feminine reasons, happens about once every month. Yeah, I'm not big on holidays that focus on me like I used to. I pretend Mother's Day, half my anniversary, and my birthday don't exist. The first two because I usually forget until the day of, and the last because I really don't like the idea of making a big fuss over me since I liked my Daddy's attention best out of everyone else on my birthday.

Anyway, sorry this is such a melodramatic post, I just needed to put this information out for people to see. It's theraputic. It helps me to remember why I sometimes feel the way I do.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Behind Closed Doors

My one-year old likes having doors closed. She really likes playing by herself, so she'll go into a room, close the door, and play quietly by herself.

We usually keep the bathroom door closed since she LOVES the toilet and the drawers full of makeup and hair care supplies. One day, Anya disappeared. We looked around the house, seeing that the baby gate was up, so she couldn't go downstairs, and the sliding door was closed and locked, so she couldn't have sneaked outside. We checked every closet, nook, and cranny we could think of since she now likes to play hide-and-seek with us and finds some interesting places to hide. (I found her in Daniel's pitch-black closet in the darkest corner she could find a while before this happened. She was in there looking around and got excited when I found her. Then she crawled away to find a new hiding place. Aren't little kids supposed to be afraid of the dark?) Still, no Anya. Now we're a little frantic since it's much too quiet in the house even though we're loudly calling her name and noisily running around the house. I realized that there was one place we hadn't checked: the bathroom. Since the door was closed, we figured she was somewhere else, but when I opened the door, there she was! She was very busy studying the toilet and had no time to respond to us when we were looking for her. Apparently, Daniel, I mean, Stephanie, left the bathroom door open, she quietly snuck in and quietly closed the door so she could play interrupted. It worked, right?

She loves playing in her bedroom by herself. Yesterday, she went into her bedroom and closed the door. Daniel and I assumed she accidently locked herself in, so he went and opened the door. While he was talking to her in the doorway, she closed the door in his face...literally. Apparently Daddy wasn't being very polite by just barging in. This happened about four times in a 60 minute period. He said that each time he went in, she was sitting with a notebook and a capped pen "writing" in a journal. I have another notebook that looks the same as the one she found which I use as a journal, so she was writing too! Oh yeah, and we also found the diaper bucket which had been nearly full of dirty cloth diapers completely empty with diapers all around the bucket. I thought quick and grabbed Anya to immediately put her in the bath and Daniel got stuck picking up the diapers. Then again, he gets frustrated trying to bathe a very wiggly toddler who hates getting her head wet, so he probably thought I got the harder job. It all came together in the end, right?

Anya can easily open the baby gate no matter how tight we set it (which means the railing is starting to lift off of the floor), can point to her tummy and her head when we ask her where they are, and has entered a "DON'T TOUCH MY TOYS" phase. Wait, that last one is a bit inaccurate. I should say, "DON'T TOUCH MY TOYS OR YOUR TOYS!" On Friday, she had a playdate with a little friend who's a little bigger than she is. She was fine with him playing with her blocks and Dora The Explorer bus, but if he touched anything else, she threw very loud tantrums. She has this stuffed soccer ball which she likes to use as a pillow. Apparently it's completely off limits since when her friend picked it up, she FREAKED out and wouldn't let him play with it or any of her other toys. I gave him some of his toys that he had brought, and apparently he couldn't have those either. Anya was being such a pain that she ended up in her crib for over half the time her friend was here. Well, he and I had a fun day, anyway...

Anyway, since this post was about Anya playing behind closed doors and since she's in her room and I haven't heard her for a while, I'm going to do the good-mom thing and go check on her. Until next time!