Cute Gabe, cute Leo.

Gabe asked me today if our heart had ears. I asked him what he meant. He said that his Sunday school teacher told him that his heart could tell him what to do, and that he should listen to it. "So, can I talk to it too?"

I explained that sometimes when people say heart, they mean feelings. "For instance," I said, "if I say that my heart is broken, I don't mean split in half."

"Mommy, you heart is broken?" asked Leo, "I fix it for you!"

"Oh, thank you Leo," I said, expecting a hug.

"But Mommy, I don't have a hammer!"

We got 10 new inches of snow yesterday, and had a great time building a sledding hill for the boys in the yard. I'm really appreciating the snow boots I got last year for my birthday. They help me avoid one of my BIGGEST dislikes, cold, wet feet. I wear them everywhere, to the store, to the library. Yesterday I wore them to church. The photo is a hat our friend Tom Ashton brought back from his mission in Ukraine. Looks warm, doesn't it? It is made out of rat hair, or something.

I'm looking for a good book to read, any suggestions?

Sunday Will Come

I attended the funeral of my cousin Aneka and her baby last year. Their tragic deaths caused me a lot of sorrow. I was so affected by their deaths, I didn't expect any comfort at the funeral, but one talk was so inspiring, I'll never forget how I felt hearing these words. The speaker quoted Joseph B. Wirthlin. I've been thinking more about this, as my Step Grandfather died this week, and on the same day President Hinckley, prophet of the LDS church. Here is an excerpt from Elder Wirthlin's talk.

"Each of us will have our own Fridays--those days when the universe itself seems shattered and the shards of our world lie littered about us in pieces. We all will experience those broken times when it seems we can never be put together again. We will all have our Fridays.

"But I testify to you in the name of the One who conquered death--Sunday will come. In the darkness of our sorrow, Sunday will come.

"No matter our desperation, no matter our grief, Sunday will come. In this life or in the next, Sunday will come.

"I testify to you that the Resurrection is not a fable. We have the personal testimonies of those who saw Him. Thousands in the Old and New Worlds witnessed the risen Savior. They felt the wounds in His hands, feet, and side. They shed tears of unrestrained joy as they embraced Him."

(Joseph B. Wirthlin, "Sunday Will Come," Ensign, Nov. 2006, 30)

As I have become an adult, I've started to know how deep sorrow can touch you. And because of that I have felt that much more gratitude for the atonement and resurrection of Jesus Christ!

Cold Weather

The walk from the parking lot to the grocery store yesterday caused all three of my little boys to cry ... and stung my eyes and lips in painful bursts. It has been below zero here (that is below zero, not just below freezing) until noon every day for the last week. Painfully cold.

We are looking for things to do inside ... besides playing with playdough, playing indoor fort, chemistry experiments, sliding down the stairs, playing restaurant, doing crafts with egg cartons, writing letters and numbers, watching television and movies, doing plays, reading books, drawing Star Wars space ships, playing Legos, doing computer games, having friends over, going over to friend's houses, singing songs, rhyming words, dancing, listening to Sesame Street music, telling stories, reading comics, painting dinosaurs, painting tractors, playing castle, playing explorer, playing hide and seek or playing with Floam -- all of which we have done already in the past three or four days. I'm running out of ideas!

Feeling Old

I've been feeling old lately. I found a gray eyebrow. You know those worry lines between your eyes? They are there on my face, even when I'm not worried. Gabe asked me to do a somersault on the floor the other day, and I didn't ... not because I didn't want to, or because I was busy, or because I was holding the baby, but because I WASN'T SURE I COULD DO IT! I don't really mind getting older, it is just weird. A weird phenomenon.

I looked down at my hands the other day, and saw my mother's hands. That kind of made me happy, that my hands (and by extension, the rest of me) have the chance to turn into something as great as my mother. I hope along with her body, I get her patience and wisdom too. I wouldn't mind her beautiful hair either.

My friend Jenn and I laugh because when we first met back in the early 90s, I was sooo much older than she ... I was a sophomore in college and she was just a little freshman. We reunited a few years ago, and had to reorient our minds because we are (more or less) the same age! Back then, it felt a world apart. Now I hang out with moms who are 24, and I married a man seven years my senior. Time is shrinking ... everything else is just sagging.

By the way, the photo is completely unrelated to me feeling old. Gabe likes face sandwiches, and this is one of the funnier ones I've created. Gabe called it Squidward.

Cute Kids!

Warning! Cute Kid Stories to Follow!

The other day I lifted Leo into the car, and gave him a kiss on his way up. Leo watched my frosty breath float above our heads and said, "Oh no! My kiss is flying away!"

Yesterday in the grocery store Gabe said learned that cucumbers come from farms. After a short pause he asked, "What kind of animal makes a cucumber?"

Our wards split last week, so we'll be attending a new ward this Sunday. I feel a little nervous ... I attended our old ward longer (consecutively) than any in my life, so it has been a while since I've had a change. They actually released the bishop from our old ward, and called him as bishop of our new ward, so at least I'll know the bishop. Some of our good friends are coming with us too. It will be nice to be in the same ward with the people across the street.

Both Jeff and I are calling free right now. But they have some holes to fill in the new ward, so we'll see what Sunday brings!

Gabe's Birthday

The celebration never ends this time of year at the Gilbert house. Today was Gabe's 5th birthday party. This year, Gabe wanted a "scientist party" (thus, the archaeologists on his cake, digging the frosting to reveal a dinosaur head. We got Gabe a scientist outfit (cross between chemist and biologist on safari), and had a dinosaur dig in the kitchen (to find prizes in a square yard of pine shavings, holy smoke, what a mess!). We had over eight 5-year-olds, and filled them with candy and cake, had them sliding down the basement stairs and climbing up on rope, and generally running amok. It was really fun. Gabe's favorite part about today was opening presents and playing duck-duck-goose (learning to identify birds for young ornithologists). Leo's favorite part was the cake.

I go all out for birthday parties, and just recently decided (halfway through scooping a square yard of pine shavings into garbage bags) that there is NO WAY I can do this three times a year, so we'll have to move to the every-other (or every third) year friend party. Lucky Gabe has had a party every year so far, so it may be an adjustment for him. Oh well, woes of the oldest child.

Actually, the hardest part the whole birthday thing for Gabe is the anticipation. He agonizes over it. He lost sleep, he cried, he said his stomach hurt because he was so excited for his birthday. I usually don't tell him it is coming up until a day or so before, because it truly is agony for him to wait under the burden of that knowledge.

Automatic Doors

Leo can't open automatic doors. The electronic eye just doesn't see him as a whole person yet. It is quite a funny (and pitiful) sight to see Leo jumping up and down and waving his arms in front of the grocery store door, trying to get it to see him. Sometimes he just stands there quietly, thinking if he does that long enough, the doors will give in. Give it three or four years, little guy.

Charlene made me this bee-you-tee-ful tablecloth for my birthday. It is all hand stitched. I love, love, love it Charlene! It was so much work, and such a piece or art, I hesitate to lay it on the table for fear or getting mac & cheese stains on it. I think it will be my "grown up party" tablecloth.