For me, 3 years feels like nothin' special. It takes me just about that long to put the names with the faces with the houses of all my neighbors. There are some projects that I've been meaning to finish for that long. There are some friends I haven't seen in over three years, who, upon reunion would pick up old jokes and memories as if they happened yesterday.

But 3 years is a big deal when it comes to little people.



And for now, this kid (now 3) is my last primeval link to raw motherhood. He is my baby (even now while a new crop grows inside me). As for being a mother of a 3-year-old, with 3 children, I have learned that some kids come with their own personality. I despise to see overindulged kids who are in obvious control of their parents:

Like this past summer when I was behind a mom at the grocery store. She was with her pre-schooler who had over 20 mosquito bites just on his face. She is laughing and joking in line about how her kid just hates repellent and refuses to put it on. Ha ha ha! Oh well. Deadly viruses going around with mosquitoes but he hates it!

Inside I'm thinking...who's the boss here?

But then I head to Thanksgiving Dinner with lots of extended family and my "baby" is wearing these for shoes:



In my demand for common sense parental override (think of mosquito lady), I insisted he take off his red shorts and get long pants on. He wore his Buzz Lightyear "jwamas" because they are long sleeve and it's winter. And while other 3 year olds, dressed in jeans with festive sweaters and leather shoes were put in the corner to finish their plates before moving onto pie, my child ate a pile of meat and 2 rolls...in his jwamas.

Plus that picture was taken by The Buddha Baby...on my camera that he found while I was busy with turkey dinner. And yes since his "phone playtime" my ringer no longer works. Sorry I keep missing everyone's calls.



I hate to admit it: but I think this kids got my number. I'm trying my hardest not to be mosquito lady but when I'm in public, and I keep telling myself "pick your battles mother" I wonder if I'm in the front of the grocery line lugging a swollen miserable kid left to his own devices.

But let's be honest, he would totally have your number too.

right?

Here's why we love this kid around here:

Notice this Star Wars, true blue t-shirt purchased by Grandma Anderson. This shirt has caused a revolution in our house. He wears it all day, to bed, and cries when I peel it off him to throw in the wash. Blue has overthrown pink as his new favorite color.


He's just a rough and tumble boy and it's pretty darn cute.

Even water fountains have no chance on his mad jedi/spiderman/tough guy skillz.

As a personality adjustment to kid #3, I have learned that if I really want him to go quickly down for a nap during the day (this doesn't happen at night...so I'm still the boss right?) I need to lay down with him. Usually when he's especially unreasonable, whiny, or bossy...we lay down and he gets a much-needed recharge. Lately? He's whiny and I think he needs a nap and I end up taking one alone.

I'm worried that unreasonable, whiny, and bossy is the new 3-year old standard. Time will tell.



He happens to have the softest skin on the planet by the way. Have you ever kneaded super-soft white flour bread dough? Those are his thighs, cheeks, and tummy. He is french pastry all silky and smooth. I think I kiss him 50 times a day.

Over the weekend I ske-daddled to Idaho for 2 root canals. Lame. I stayed at my parents house, retreated to my old bedroom, and climbed into the giant bed I use to share with my sister. I had a sad revelation.

Here is why this picture is lame (and in a class of lame-ness way beyond 2 root canals if that is even possible):



A) My folks house lay on a bluff above those famous Idaho potato fields (and I do mean miles and miles of them). We moved there from Apache Avenue back in 1991.

B) The bedroom window would overlook these fields, which were wheat half of the time. The dirt sucked all the light pollution and made for brilliant stars.

C) Way off in the horizon, you could see the tips of the Teton Mountains. Moon + Mountains + Glowing Fields = Heaven.

D) I could sleep with the blinds open and not worry about neighbors 10 feet away peeking in on my bid-ness.

E) Every night I would open the blinds, and sleep on the right side of the bed because it was closest to the window/stars/moon/fields.

F) This is how the right side of the bed officially became "my side" of the bed when I became Mrs. Olsen. It had everything to do with this bed, this room, and this Idaho.

G) When I was just in Idaho this weekend (alone)I threw open the covers on the left side of the bed. That is because it was closest to the bathroom. I didn't even open the blinds.

H) It took a few minutes until I realized what I had done and how far I had fallen! Then I took this picture in disbelief.

And that is what happens when you grow up!

I think it's somewhat inevitable, what with the merging of your life to another through marriage, the puffing of pregnancy, the retreat from the single life into one of quiet service to your kids...well it's inevitable not to take those kids your investing lessons and dinners into and not live through them a little bit. They are a piece of you after all.

Today I drove 100+ miles to my chosen Birth Center to get my single appointed ultrasound for the offspring growing in my gutt. The argument for moms that wait until the birth to find out the gender applies to those who get their 20 week ultrasound as well. It's still Christmas morning with a glittering mystery unveiled beneath the tree. Except now I get to paint, clean, organize clothes, and name my kid before I'm sleep-deprived, exploding with milk, and hormonal.

But those darn ultrasounds never quite make it as real as you want. You see in shadows and types, and take the doctor's word for what is what. You still have to wait to hold that kid, see if the eyes are brown like yours or blue like your man's. Plus my favorite trick has to wait which is this: sticking my upper lip right in the crease between baby's toes and the pad of the foot. Those little toesies curve the lip like a kiss.

So yeah, today I found out if Rainbow Girl gets a sissy or if she's going to be surrounded by little brothers all the day long. Drumroll please....



It's a boy!



It's not quite the same. My trick will have to wait. Good night.

Having been a church-going Mormon most of my life, marrying the boy, having the kids, raising the mutts, and soon comes my favorite holiday of the year: Halloween. (It's now a very close second to Christmas). For years I would revel in the delight of this season, the shower of free candy, and the crazy dress-ups encouraged and sometimes participated with adults.

Please tell me you still have one big fat zucchini on your counter that you've been wondering whether or not to throw away? Well don't! Here's another garden recipe sent to save the day! (do I still have good karma Tonya?)

1) Little boys that get a cut the size of a pin-hole taking care of it themselves.

2) Baby boys developing curls! Curly-headed boys getting into mom's mascara (that darn stain is still on that shirt).

3) Big girls and Halloween just around the corner.

This recipe is great for when you have a glut of tomatoes. And anyone who has ever escorted tomatoes through a salsa recipe requiring you to blanch, peel, core, and then de-seed the tomatoes will hopefully find a return of motivation to process their own food. No more wondering where half the tomato went, and no burning hands! I haven't tweaked around with it to see if it can be canned, so for long storage use your freezer.

This recipe is from The Weight Watcher's New Complete Cookbook. So if that's your thing, this sauce has zero points!

Here we go!