Dear Friends and Family:
We’re outnumbered. As of November 6, 2009 there are three of them and only two of us; they out-poop, out-run, out-yell, and out-learn us. About the only two activities in which Alana and I still retain an advantage are writing and eating. The former is largely due to the fact that none of them know how to write yet (we think), but a win is a win. You can read the fruits of our labors at mormonmonk.blogspot.com (Zach) and bitesizedblessings.blogspot.com (Alana)—at least until the typing monkeys take over. As to the latter, we are somewhat less than thrilled with this “victory,” since all three children seem to take a perverse sort of pleasure in frustrating our attempts to provide them with adequate nutrition. Without his shirt on Gabe looks like a white version of the starving children portrayed in advertisements for African food-aid programs; David is convinced that the new food guide pyramid is composed of the food groups “cereal” and “candy”; and Old Faithful has nothing on little Kenneth MacLeod, who regularly regurgitates whatever milk he may have swallowed at the least opportune moment. Just out of the bath and into clean clothes? Braawp. Snuggled tight against Daddy’s best suit? Braawp. Mealtimes are like a three-ring circus around here: very entertaining for anyone who’s watching, but less than leisurely for two ringmasters trying to make sure that the wild animals stay fed. Here’s a sneak peek:
Zach: (With a fork in David’s face) David, eat your broccoli.
David: (Scrunched-up nose scowl) No bwokli, seerul.
Zach: No, David you had cereal for breakfast.
Gabe: (Looking depressed) May I be excused?
Alana: (Exasperated) No! Thank you for being polite, but your plate is still full. Take a bite.
Gabe: But I already had two bites . . .
Zach: Right, so your next bite will be number three. Good counting. David, open your mouth.
David: No bite. Seerul!
Gabe: If he gets cereal, then I want some too.
Alana: No cereal. Open your mouth.
Mac: Waaah! Waaah! Waaah!
Zach: Do you want to get him, or should I?
Gabe: Why do I have to take a bite? You and Daddy haven’t taken any bites.
Alana: You get him. Gabe, that’s because Daddy and I are trying to feed you and David. Take a bite.
David: (Triumphantly) Seerul!
Zach: (Holding a fork in front of David’s mouth with one hand, bouncing Mac with the other, looking mournfully at his untouched plate) You know, I think Gabe and David make good points. Cereal for everyone.
If less healthful eating happens than we might wish at mealtimes, there is, at least, a lot of healthy dialogue. I would give you more, but Alana continues to insist that I fit the entire year onto a single page. So without further ado . . .
MAC: He eats. He spits up. He poops. He sleeps (during the day). You want more? Get back to me in a year when I can be sure that those cute little smiles are more than just gas.
DAVID: He doesn’t eat, but his smiles are everpresent. His budding vocabulary includes sophisticated construction terminology that leads me to believe he’s a future general contractor, but his design skills and physical coordination haven’t quite caught up yet. Most of his towers look like inverted pyramids, and he tends to knock them over in less-than-reassuring ways: tripping over his own feet, ramming his head into them, etc. Through it all, he smiles; David’s good cheer is infectious.
GABE: Our oldest son is the ideal big brother: he fetches diapers, soothes crying with a well placed pacifier, and always lets David choose what they will play with/at. He started preschool this past year and continues to amaze us with the pace and extent of his learning. Much to our surprise, he noted that the clock on the wall was a hexagon (it is); that two and too are homonyms (they are); and that Moby-Dick mimics the narrative structure of the Bible (hadn’t you noticed?). OK, I made the last one up, but his ability to read polysyllabic words and small books on his own leads me to believe that he will be reading both Melville and the scriptures on his own in the near future. Gabe is courteous and insightful; his wisdom is deep.
ALANA: During 2009 Alana and I celebrated our fifth anniversary with two trips to Toby’s dinner theater in Washington D.C. to see Aida and Beauty and the Beast. She continues to contributes the lion’s share of our offspring’s superior genetic material and set a record for “pregnancy with fewest complaints” last year. She teaches piano and weight loss classes, inspires 10- and 11-year-old Activity Day girls, does her share of the housework (and mine), serves gourmet cuisine on a nightly basis, and, if she keeps doing her P90X workout routines at 6 AM every morning, will soon be able to kick my booty. Not that this is an altogether unappealing prospect, but her ability to do all of this while nurturing three small children leads me to believe that she will soon be seeking a raise. Alana is selfless and serviceable; her example is inspiring.
ZACH: In the last year I’ve spent time in Atlanta, D.C., Jerusalem, and Philadelphia trying to persuade academics that I belong. But most of the year was spent in front of my computer, where I pumped out a 400-page dissertation on images of Eden in the literature of 17th and 18th century New England, which leads me to believe that I’ll finally graduate in May. I’m grateful to be done, but mostly I’m grateful for a family who rescued me every day at 4 PM from my keyboard. I am looking for work; my resume is circulating.
With any luck, I’ll get a job near YOU soon,
and we’ll be able to give our LOVE to you in person next year.
