Dress Up is Serious Business

 I would say that Bears regularly spends most of the day trying to come up with various costume ideas.  This cub is passionate about dressing up these days.

 He was pretending to be a chef one day while wearing daddy's apron that grandma made and he just got too tuckered out.

 Captain America!

Captain IronAmerica!

Captain IronBearsAmerica!

 Iron Man hiding out in a perch trying to escape bitty Biscuits

 Various Pirate/Phantom/Mexican wrestler/Batman ensembles:

 Various Wizards

 Making good use of everyday clothing:

 He told me he was a football player here:

 Darth Vader...casual style:

 "snorkeling"

Captain Hook:

 and...miscellaneous.  I'm pretty sure there's no way to correctly categorize any of these:

Dress up is. indeed, serious business.  It gives one much to contemplate.

Time is Flyin'

These are the last pictures taken of bitty Biscuits' toothless grin.

Just a week later, this happened:

If you look closely, you can just make out the tooth that's popped through on the bottom.  I don't know if it's just me, but he appears to be delighted and determined to use his new powers for mischief.

And now, just a few days later (or so it seems...the reality may be closer to a few months passing by) well, just look at the guy.  I can't say that it's directly related to all his new teeth but he's certainly very happy to be up to a whole lot of trouble.

Bears Goes to Church

So...just a warning, this will likely be a very long and tangential post.  I've got a lot of thoughts on the subject that are rattling around in a very disorganized brain so anything could happen.

Bears has been going to church with his Papa and Diddum (grandma) for months now and it's been going very well but it's brought up some questions from some of my friends so I thought I'd take this opportunity to clarify where Ryan and I are coming from as parents.  Now I should start by admitting no one has openly questioned me so these questioning friends I'm referring to are a bit on the...hypothetical side.  But I contend that they're still people and I'm not one to judge someone's merits simply based off of their actual, confirmed existence. So my hope is that this will offer a bit of clarification.

First off, let's assume that Ryan and I are trying to be good parents and therefore attempt to exclusively expose Bears to things that are, well, good for him. This being the case, one would assume that since we're arranging for Bears to go to church every week that we think this has real value for him.  And if we think that, how do we justify staying at home ourselves?  Is it laziness?  While I do neglect a great many things in order to have some glorious couch-luxuriating time, the answer (at least in this instance) is a bit more complicated.

When my mom first asked me if she could take Bears to church, I wasn't in the least surprised. The LDS faith is a huge part of who she and my dad are and the idea of not allowing them to share that with Bears seems almost unthinkable.  Plus, my parents are some pretty awesome people and I want the boys to know them as well as possible.  And to fully know my parents means to know the church as well; they are inextricable.

The reason that I don't go to church myself is both simple and extremely complicated.  The simple answer is that, at this point in time at least, I don't have faith.  At least, not in the supernatural sense.  I vividly remember the time when I started losing it: I was 16 years old when I started realizing that certain religious beliefs seemed to be incongruent with reality.  At the same time, I felt a fierce loyalty to my beliefs and that abandoning them simply because they didn't seem to correlate with my budding understanding of reality would be a kind of betrayal; not only to myself, but more importantly, to my family. It was around this time when I was asked to give a talk church and I decided to base it on a talk by Russel M. Nelson because it reinforced what I thought I should try to do.  It was titled, "Endure and Be Lifted Up." This quote embodies the gist of it:

Applied to my analogy, we are first to get “on the boat” with Him. Then we are to stay with Him. And if we don’t get “out of the boat” before we should, we shall reach His kingdom, where we will be lifted up to eternal life.

Reading over that talk again after all these years is extremely emotional for me. It's come to symbolize one of the last vestiges of my childhood. I so very much wanted to stay on the boat for it's own sake.  But as time went by, grasping for faith became like grasping at thin air.  No matter how much I wanted to be holding something tangible in my hands, I just...wasn't.  This was the beginning of a very dark time for me.  I continued to go to church and go through all the motions but what once was a beautiful and meaningful experience became tedious and alienating.  Over a year went by and I was asked to give another talk.  I don't even remember what I talked about; only that it went terribly.  I felt like an impostor.  A fake.  I was sure that everyone in the chapel was able to see me for the faithless fraud I was.  I stuttered my way through the talk, never taking my eyes off the paper I was referencing, and practically ran back to my seat.  That was the last talk I ever gave in church. From then on, I only attended church when forced to.  I know that, as hard as this time was for me, it had to be just as awful for my parents.

I didn't know how to live a faithless life. All the coping skills I had been taught for dealing with hard times were faith-based.  Around when I was 19 or so, I went to an LDS conference.  One of the speakers said something along the lines of, "a child who is raised in the light can never be happy in the dark." That line was like a punch to the gut and I very much feared that it had some truth to it. I grappled for years with guilt over abandoning my faith while doubting whether my life could even have meaning in this harsh reality outside religion.  Even as I was losing my faith, I tried to cling to at least the hope of an afterlife.  It took me a long time to realize that this was actually exacerbating my pain over the subject, rather than relieving it.  The only comparison that I can think of is of a mother who's child has been missing for many years.  Logic tells her that her child is almost certainly gone but she so very much wants for her child to be alive that she chooses to believe that they're still out there.  And in so doing, she denies herself the ability to grieve, heal, and move on in her life. Facing what I consider to be the sobering reality of mortality allows me to grieve over the impermanence of my life and that of my loved ones. My hope is that in this acceptance, I can see life for the truly precious, brief, improbable, and miraculous thing that it is. That said, if I somehow received compelling reason to believe that the religion I grew up with is true,  I would feel the same way that my hypothetical mother would at finding out that her child is, against all odds, alive. Euphoric.

This is where explaining my point of view gets a bit...tricky.  One might think that my acknowledging that I wish it were all true would be the first step in gaining back the faith of my childhood. However, aside from wishing, I still stand outside the LDS faith as an explanation of reality.  That is, at this point in time, at least, I don't consider it to be a realistic possibility.  Bringing back the analogy of the mother again, let's say that she never sees her child again but instead of either hoping or letting go, she decides to build up an entirely new reality in which her child is back at home with her.  She goes through the same daily rituals that she would as if her child were really there with her until she's thoroughly convinced that she has, in fact, been reunited with her child. As tempting as the idea of wrapping myself up in a very beautiful theology so tightly that it effectively becomes truth, something holds me back.

The problem is that IF there is no divine inspiration, then the only thing that allows us to discern right from wrong is our own judicious use of intellect and empathy. And it is when this comes into conflict with religious doctrine that it becomes an issue.  If one thinks that their beliefs are divinely-inspired, they can console themselves with the idea that God has a much better moral perspective of things.  But what if it's nothing but layer upon layer of psychological mind games that we play on ourselves? Do we not have an obligation to ensure that our individual beliefs have no impact on our laws and things we deem to be human rights?  That's the whole idea behind the separation of church and state but I contend that when your entire sense of reality and morality is based off of religion, there can be no real separation. That, right there, is the reason I can't go back to church.  At the risk of sounding hopelessly naive, we all have the ability to impact society through small ripple effects and I feel a sense of moral obligation to be as honest with myself as possible.  I've got no clue as to the ultimate truth of things but it seems very important to base judgments and decisions on the little I do know rather than a plethora of things I hope are true but have no practical way of confirming.

So.  Bears and church. I don't go because I feel like it would only confuse and cheapen things for him.  My lack of faith prevents me from being able to participate in most things (sacrament, callings, testimony meeting, just to name a few) and my having to explain why I'm not doing certain things would do more to undermine the experience rather than add to it. Also, the fact that we don't go with him means that he isn't being brought up to believe that the church is an absolute truth to be taken for granted, but rather one of many explanations as to the nature of existence.  This, to me, is an important distinction.  If Bears and Biscuits decide as adults that the LDS faith provides them with more happiness and meaning in their lives, I will be very happy for them.  Mostly because I can feel confident that it wasn't just a result of indoctrination but simply from exposure. Regardless of what Bears and Biscuits ultimately subscribe to in an effort to make sense of their existence, going to church will not only give them more time with Papa and Diddums but will connect them more viscerally to their own heritage.  Even though we've got differences in beliefs, we can all agree that we love the boys to pieces and are each getting a chance to do our best by them. Some might call it a confusing upbringing; I call it well-rounded.   And we're all pretty awesome.  So there's that.

And that's why Bears goes to church.

Texas Trip and Finally a Video from Easter

Last month, we all went out to Texas to visit Ryan's side of the family.  It was some fun times.  Bears had a grand time playing on the beach.  His favorite activities included: swimming in the big waves with Grandma and, later, Daddy, trying to sneak his cousins' beach toys, and dumping wet sand all over his uncle Randy.  I really feel like I blew it by not documenting that last one.

 Biscuits really enjoyed the beach as well.  His favorite things were splashing in the shallow water, playing with beach toys, and dipping his finger in the sand, then putting it in his mouth.  I loved how delicate he was with his sand tasting.

Biscuits was such a mellow gentleman on the trip.  I was surprised by how well he did.  He wasn't able to nap more than about 15 minutes on our travel days but managed to be happy nearly all the time.  Once we arrived and he had access to a crib whenever he got sleepy, he did great and slept really well.

Bears had a much harder time with sleep. He never really managed to get a good nap and we usually couldn't get him to go to bed before 11 at night.  So he was a bit...emotional on the trip but still managed to have a good time overall.

Bears insisted on wearing his full Captain America costume on the trip out to Texas.  It actually worked out really well for the airport as far as being able to keep an eye on him since we could not keep that wild cub from running around like crazy.

Ryan's parents threw Biscuits his first birthday party, complete with giant pinata and his own special dairy/soy free cake. I'm hoping that Ryan managed to get some pictures that I can update with later.

During the trip, Biscuits developed some amazing kissing skills.  Well.  You've really got to see for yourself:


And finally, here's a pretty epic video of our last easter.  It's taken me so long to post it because I had grand plans of editing it...which never came to fruition.  Well. Not yet, anyway. It could still happen but in the meantime, I figured I'd better get to posting it sometime before next easter.

Out and About

Okay so first, check out this picture I just found.  Pretty amazing, right?  It's got nothing to do with this post though.  Except that every post should have a picture. It's the mark of good taste, as they say.

Out at the market today, the boys and I had the pleasure of meeting Bradley.  As always, I was almost completely oblivious to my surroundings and was disdainfully poking through various raw meats and trying to decide which was the least disgusting, when I heard a very loud, "help!" coming from behind me.  I turned to see a guy in an electric wheelchair who was struggling, and failing, to balance a basket of food and a 24-pack of water bottles on his lap. He introduced himself and said that he needed help with turning his basket around, which was easy enough to do, although it was hard to say whether it actually helped.

I stood there for a bit, awkwardly wondering what I should do next while Bradley struggled to keep his groceries in his lap.  Finally, it occurred to me to ask if there was anything else I could do.  It seemed like it was as much of a struggle for him to find the right words as it was for him to move his limbs but eventually, he was able to tell me that he didn't know what else he wanted to get, but whatever it was, it had to be easy to make.  I looked at what he had: Milk, water, eggo waffles, and otterpops, and realized that he was missing a key food group -- pizza pockets.  I loaded a giant bag of them into his basket before it occurred to me that his basket wouldn't be constantly on the verge of falling to the floor if I just put it into my cart.  I also realized just then that he was going to have to get all this stuff back home and asked him how he was planning on doing all that.

He said that this was his third time to the grocery store since moving out on his own and he was still working out the kinks but he was planning on taking all the water bottles out of the pallet and stuffing them, along with everything else, in his bag that was hanging over the back of his chair.  I was somewhat dubious about him pulling off such a feat (even though I'm sure people would jump in and help, I couldn't help but picture him struggling in the meantime) so I asked him if I could help him check out and arrange everything. He was pretty nonchalant about the whole thing, not trying to guilt me into doing more for him and also not acting as though I was some sort of busy body for continuing to ask if I could help.  Which...I kind of felt like anyway.  While simultaneously feeling like I was doing laughably little for someone who had it so much harder than I do.  Strange mix of feelings, that.

While we were waiting to check out, Bears commented on Bradley's full arm tattoo. I couldn't read it but he proudly told me it said, "psychopathic juggalo." Not knowing what a juggalo was, and too scared to ask since I knew what psychopathic meant, I just laughed nervously.  And I have...the worst. nervous. laugh. ever. I don't know what to compare it to but basically, I charm the hell out of people with it.  Or so I'm told.  Told by myself, that is.  But I suppose that's neither here nor there.  When it came time to pay, he asked for help in getting his Horizon card out and swiping it.  When he reached to enter his pin, the true extent of his disability showed.  It took almost 30 seconds of him trying to wrangle his arm and hand to do his mind's will. I cannot even imagine what that must be like.  But I guess no one can who's body has yet to betray them like that.

While I was getting his stuff all arranged, he started telling me about how he had been hit by a car and that's what had led to him being in his current state. It was so poignant, thinking of him being completely capable and self sufficient not long ago, just like me.   The only thing differentiating our fates is simple bad timing on his end.  It was such a...humbling thought. After I'd gotten his stuff all loaded up, I asked if there was anything else I could do.  He said, "nope,"  and offered his hand.  I took it, thinking he meant to shake it but with surprising strength, he wrenched my hand down, pulling my face close to his.  It was at this point that I remembered his tattoo reading something about being a psychopath and I realized that I may have made a huge mistake...when he planted a kiss on my cheek and enveloped me in a bear hug.  I can't really put into words the incredible warm-fuzziness of that moment.  It was pretty great

I started to blush something furious, he teased me for it, and we said our goodbyes. I just...I can't imagine the amount of courage that it takes to go about daily life with a disability like that.  And to be warm and open to other people instead of just bitter and closed off...it was.  well.  It was something pretty cool to be around.  I should also mention that I'm so proud of the boys for being champs.  It was such a little thing, 20 minutes of our time, but those with tiny kids know that they can make 20 minutes turn into an eternity if they're so inclined.  Especially at the grocery store.

Oh.  and Google tells me that Psychopathic Juggalo is an Insane Clown Posse reference, in case anyone was concerned.  I guess finding that out could lead to further worry, though, if you're the type to stress over someone's taste in music.

How to use limited spare time well: photoshop your baby's picture 'til they're unrecognizable...and I daresay creepy

Did I succeed?  I sure hope so because I spent like an hour on this puppy.

I was inspired by this photo here:

I'd classify this picture as haunting/artsy...whereas my attempt is a bit more 1800's baby who's currently haunting your house.  So...pretty close, right?

Here's a side by side with the original:

Randoms with pictures and videos!

I came into the kitchen one day and found this guy peepin' around through a hole that he'd made in his play doh.  He told me that it was his mask.  He's real into masks these days.  I helped him out by adding another eye and even a mouth hole.  Really classed it up, don't you think?  Not creepy at all.

Instead of eating in his highchair one morning, he decided to curl up in a stray beam of sunlight in our laundry room.  After I'd finished making his oatmeal, he took the bowl over to the little pool of light and started to get settled in, paused, turned back to me and said, "I want to sit in my highchair.  So I don't have to sit in the sun." In our entire 900 square foot apartment, just that one square foot had any direct sunlight.  Worked out for me though.  I'm a big fan of the kids eating in their highchairs.

Ryan got Bears a whole bunch of wooden-looking-but-actually-foam shapes that can be used to build all sorts of cool stuff but he's more interested in wearing them.  He'd been trying to balance that thing on his nose for hours when it occurred to him that it needed a strap.  I hooked him up and he was pretty pumped.  Clearly he looked like the coolest guy ever in that mask, his "black darth vader" cape, his "old MacDonald" hat, and red light saber.

He also went down a slide one time.

 Bears was pretty pumped when he got a hold of this old red wig.

 Sleepy time with Daddy

The suavest, soulful-est spider man ever. 

This one time I made lunch.  This is proof.  I am very domestic.  Alright fiiiine.  It's a tv dinner, you caught me.  hope you're proud of yourself.

He gave himself a real fright by being Spider man.

Apparently I'd just caught each of them doing something.  Guilty looks all around...

Hi!

"I eat snakes for my bitty breakfast!" Biscuits is so hardcore.

I don't know.  Except that this was Bears' idea.  I...uhh.  yup.

Annnd a bunch of videos for Grandmas:

Biscuits Clapping:


Diddum gave Bears a birthday Ecard.  It was a big time hit:


Bears teaching Biscuits to growl:


Biscuits has this desperate need to swing backwards all the time:


Biscuits decided today that the thing to do is say "eh?" It's good times:


Bears reading a story:

Bears 'n Biscuits Love Bouncing

Look at these cute, cuddly boys!

For Bears' birthday, we went to a warehouse full of bouncy castles.  Well.  Former warehouse. Crap.  I do not know the definition of a warehouse.  I guess bouncy castles could be considered their wares...and they are housed by the building.  So.  It's a bouncy warehouse.  And it was a hit.  and...I'm trying to think of a way to tie the zoo in as well, since it's also in the video.  but there's no connection.  blast it.  also, something about a bike.  well.  I shouldn't spoil it for you. (spoiler: he rides a bike at the end.  sort of.)