I thought I’d post a few pictures from our sealing. I still haven’t recorded my thoughts about it in my journal, and I hesitate to wax too sentimental here. I guess my biggest feeling that day was relief that all the work leading up to it was over. They’re my boys forever now and that means a lot considering where we were two years ago.

For his birthday dinner at Grandma’s, Mr. Mimic got to make pizza with all his cousins.

The kids enjoy watching movies at Grandma’s during family dinner and Mr. Mimic got to watch “Ratatouille” which is his favorite.

He was very excited about his cake and I successfully caught this on film

He also got the usual Allen clan birthday song treatment

He got a shiny red bike for this birthday. . .

. . .but his initial reaction was stunned (and tired because it was so early) disbelief

Thankfully, he warmed up to his bike later that day (we actually ended up trading in the original bike for a larger one.)

He is still riding around with training wheels, but I’m hoping to remove them within a couple months. In the meantime, he’s enjoying the feeling of riding a big boy bike and is slowly learning to keep up with his brother. We’ve enjoyed riding around the bike/jogging trail at the park a few blocks away.

I have birthday and sealing entries coming, but I didn’t want these videos to get left behind. My children have decided that since the dogs are the most loved creatures in the house, they will now be dogs.

 


 

 

Judging by our analytics, we’d get a lot more repeat traffic if we had more pictures in our gallery of winged wolves. Perhaps I should get back to working on that gallery software. . .

Last autumn, we went to the Utah State Fair and saw the beekeepers exhibit (Utah Beekeepers Association? Something like that.) I have always liked bees. They’re so industrious and single-minded. The way they go about their business with singularity of purpose makes me kind of root for them. Go bee! Go be a good little bee! Yay you!

So after I spent enough time mooning over the beehive encased in clear plastic for my husband and children to wander away, pet the bunnies, realize I wasn’t with them, search the bunny house, and wander back, I decided I wanted to try to keep bees. Of course, I’ve also always wanted to keep goats (for milk and wool!), chickens (for eggs and to eat my kitchen scraps!), pigeons (to fly around and look pretty!), and a red Highland cow (to look cool. Seriously, go look up a picture of one), so wanting to keep bees doesn’t really mean much. Except this time, my mom got excited about it too. Our conversation went something like this (note the exclamation marks):

Me: MOM!!!!! I TOTALLY WANT TO KEEP BEES!!!!!

Mom: Oh?

Me: Yeah!!! It’s so cool! They give you honey and they’re supposed to kill wasps so then you don’t have to worry about wasps around your property and they’re so CUTE!!!

Mom: Yeah, they are. That would be cool.

Me: Yeah!! Did you know that when you introduce a new young queen to a hive you encase her in candy and the bees try to eat through the candy to kill her but by the time they get through the candy they’re used to her smell so they don’t kill her and she comes out and she’s their new queen?!

Mom: Oh really? That is really interesting!

Me: Yeah! And if you eat honey that comes from the nectar of local flowers, your allergies get a lot better because your body is exposed to the pollen.

Mom: You know what?! And they pollinate your yard so you have a ton of fruit and vegetables! And there’s a bee shortage so it would be really good to keep your own hive!  For the good of all the plants!!!!

Me: . . . Yeah!

Mom:  That is so COOL!!!!

Me: . . . Yeah?

Mom: I TOTALLY WANT TO KEEP BEES!!!!

So I guess the enthusiasm was infectious, and I got online and actually, remarkably, found a couple, Aaron and Annette Hansen, who are beekeepers and wanted local people to allow them to “host” a hive on their property. (www.hansenhives.com) Basically, you let them place a hive in the corner of your yard, they take care of it, and they will teach you how to keep bees so that if you want to do it yourself you can. They’ll even bring an extra suit and let you help with stuff when they open the hive. If you like being a beekeeper, they will sell you the hive on your property at the end of a year, or else you can keep “hosting” it for them. We got very excited about the possibility. I know many people are afraid of bees, but to my mom and I it was like someone saying, “Hey, I got a new puppy. I want to feed it, clean up after it, and exercise it, but I need you to play with it and cuddle it.” We were more than happy to have a beehive without the actual work of a beehive.

I emailed them, and last spring they brought out a platform and a beehive. They also brought about 6,000 bees. The bees were confused and kind of disoriented, so they acted more like slightly agitated marbles than anything else. The Hansens flipped their little carrying box over into the hive and all the bees just fell out with a slightly buzzy-sounding clatter. The ones who were left got shaken and scooped into the hive proper. There were bees flying around bumping into us (none of us had bee suits on), but they just kind of dizzily flew elsewhere, and nobody got stung. It was really interesting to see them flying around in a circle above the hive like they were in a big circus parade. The Hansens told us that they were orienting themselves to the sun, and sure enough once they flew around enough to know which way was North, they would zip off in a random direction, off to scout for flowers. Bees actually fly in a very straight line when they are on official bee business. In fact, when they are laden with nectar they fly straight back to the hive, which is where we get the term “beeline.” If you catch a bee and let her go again somewhere else, there is a good chance she will lead you directly back to her hive. And if you follow her, you can either find another nice friendly beekeeper, or else find a wild hive that you can catch and install in your very own beehive. Were you so inclined.

While the bees were thus engaged, the Hansens put the queen in the hive – and yes, she came in a little cage with a plug of candy. I was very excited about that. The bees were queenless, so they would ally themselves with her by the time they ate through the candy, and she would then begin her task of laying eggs. We put some sugar water in the top of the hive for them, made sure they had a dish of water close by to drink, and left them to their confused and disoriented exploring.

(to be continued)

Monday is “clean the bathrooms” day. It is also laundry day. Anyone who has lived with a boy of any age knows that cleaning the bathrooms can be terrifying, and cleaning the bathroom of two little boys with poor concentration and aiming skills can be nightmarish. Over the course of the past year, however, I’ve come up with the perfect solution – my boys clean their own bathroom. Yes, the entire thing. Yes, all by themselves. It’s fantastic.

I started with Captain Flail, who was five years old and very eager to help and please. He learned to scrub the tub (I apply all the chemicals myself, of course. I’m not insane.) with only a few minor hold-ups. I mean, how hard is it to scrub a tub? “Scrub until all the powder is bubbles,” I told him blithely. Little did I know that he was lost on the meaning of the word “scrub.” Reluctant to complain and refusing to give up, he dragged his finger through the powder; he blew on the powder (his eyes were mercifully closed); he pounded the powder with his fist; he took off his socks and saturated them in powder. Where this last idea came from, I have no idea. Meanwhile I was industriously doing the rest of the bathroom and didn’t notice until 40 minutes had passed that he hadn’t actually touched the scrub brush. While I taught him the meaning of the word “scrub,” it occurred to me: this hyper-active, spastic, easily bored child had been working for 40 minutes. All by himself. This was a power I couldn’t wait to harness.

When carefully instructed, the Flail evolved into a fantastic worker. He moved from tub scrubbing to toilet scrubbing to floor scrubbing very quickly. I even awarded him his very own little bottle of 100 parts water 1 part Pine Sol, so he could spray and wipe the way that I do with my 409. By the time he graduated Kindergarten this spring, he could do the entire bathroom with absolutely no input from me except the sprinkling of powder, spraying of 409, and occasional praise.

His brother, Mr. Mimic, posed a bit more of a challenge. Trying to forestall any trouble, I taught him what the word “scrub” means right away, but he took me a bit too literally. That poor little child is cursed with the burden of perfectionism. Before I knew it he was trying to scrub the enamel off of the tile because it was slightly chipped (he saw it as a spot of dirt) and hysterically screaming “OH SPOT! GET OFF SPOT! OH WHY, SPOT!? WHYYYYY?!” (I am not making this up.) When I suggested that he just move on to a new place, he completely dissolved into tears. And for my darling blondie, tears involve trying to kick and strangle me. Needless to say, it wasn’t a shining success. But over time he learned to take my advice and move on when there was a stubborn spot (he’s tried to scrub everything off the wall from an earwig (very easily dislodged) to a spot of sunlight (very difficult. But later that day it was gone, so he felt great about himself.)

Today I was sorting and washing laundry when I realized that I had been hearing the industrious sound of scrubbing and wiping for well over an hour coming from the boys’ bathroom. Mr. Mimic was working all alone. He scrubbed and rinsed the tub, scrubbed and rinsed the bathroom sink, scrubbed the toilet bowl, wiped the toilet down with paper towels, took the garbage out, got a new garbage bag and put it in the can, scrubbed the floor, and wiped down the floor with a cloth. (I had sprayed my 409 and sprinkled my powder, but that’s as far as I had gotten.) He actually got upset with me for coming in and trying to clean the mirror. So he ended up doing that, too. The bathroom is clean and in his words, “so shiny! So very shiny!”

He is three years old.

Unfortunately, I don’t have any pictures from our trip to the Snake River for the Annual Department of Water Resources River Rafting Trip, because I forgot to bring the camera. We left home on Thursday the 23rd and had a safe drive all the way to Alpine Junction, Wyoming where our campground was located.

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There were lots of people in our group there and the boys had a great time playing with the other kids. We had tin foil dinners and s’mores that night, and I had an enjoyable time playing with the fire and pretending I knew how to camp. The next morning Captain Flail got to ride on the raft with Anne and Barbara. Mr. Mimic and I drove up to a lookout point to watch them float by through some rapids. We had a great time throwing rocks into the river while we waited for our group. Our original plan was to join them for an afternoon run, but when they got back, Mr. Mimic was sound asleep in the car and it looked like it would be raining the rest of the day.

So, after much deliberation, we decided to return home a day early. We enjoyed thereafter a beautiful sunny day. The rolling hills and farmland of Idaho never looked more beautiful. Several comments were made about purchasing land there (I bet the winters are freezing though.) With very little trouble we rolled back into Centerville to drop Grandma A off at her home. We also picked up Ford and Tai (and I took Seraph as well, since Anne wanted to trade Ford for her.) We decided that I would drive the dogs and all our gear home, while Anne walked Mr. Mimic and Captain Flail home. And that’s when the trouble started.

I quickly arrived back at our place and began unloading gear while the dgos went crazy running around the house and backyard. I was almost done with Captain Flail came running up. He was very excited to be the first one back and I sent him into the house to play with the dogs. About five minutes later, Anne walked up and I offhandedly inquired as to the whereabouts of Mr. Mimic. Her eyes narrowed and she angrily asked, “He’s not here?”

“No,” I replied.

“He didn’t come home with <Captain Flail>?”

“No.” I still wasn’t really worried at this point, but Anne was angry. We called the Captain outside and dressed him down for leaving his brother behind. The boys had run ahead of her on the walk, and because Captain Flail knows the way home so well, she’d thought they’d get here just fine. So Anne and the Captain went to look for Mr. Mimic while I finished unpacking. I figured he was just watching fireworks with one of the many families celebrating Pioneer Day.

It seemed like they’d been gone a long time when I finished, so I walked over to the corner to see if they were on their way back. I got to the corner about the same time as an agitated Anne. Mr. Mimic wasn’t anywhere nearby and now she couldn’t find Captain Flail. I ran to get my phone and got in my car to look for both boys. I started thinking about that canal about a block and a half away and how it was pretty deep for a three year old to navigate at dusk.

I drove through the neighborhood keeping a sharp eye out for either boy. I finally found the Captain, but to my horror, there was still no sign of Mr. Mimic. Anne had begun rounding up neighbors to help look and one of them stopped me to insist that we call the police. I drove up a little ways to hand Anne my phone and tell her to call them while I kept looking with Captain Flail.

We drove all over the neighborhood and I asked the Captain to start praying that we could find his brother. All the while I kept having visions of him bleeding on the side of the road or floating face-down in the canal. I started to wonder how I was going to tell Vivian and Terry that I’d lost their beautiful grandson. I decided to start circling back towards our house. As we approached the house, I saw two police cars out front and assumed they were meeting with Anne to get a description and to help canvass the neighborhood. Then I saw him get out of the car. My little boy walked across the street to give his mom a hug and I safely and quickly pulled into the drive way and got out. I walked over to hug both of them, but my emotions quickly overcame me as Mr. Mimic told me with tears running down his face, “Dad, my duct tape came off.” We’d put duct tape on his old shoes for the camping trip, and it had come off. I couldn’t take it anymore and I grabbed him and held him and, yes, cried. I was so relieved.

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Anne helped the officers complete their report and after they left she told me that if I’d stuck around for two minutes longer, I would have known they’d already found him when she’d called. A nice lady had followed him from the McDonald’s about a mile from our house to the Target across the very busy main thoroughfare of Centerville. I thanked my Father in Heaven that he’d been watched over and Captain Flail shouted, “Dad! My prayer worked really good. I prayed that we’d find him and he’s here at our house!”

So, I guess all’s well that ends well. We’re extremely grateful to have him back in our home and we’ve now gone over many times with both boys what to do if you lose track of the rest of the family. Hopefully the lesson sticks.

So our family took a trip to Disneyland at the beginning of May and we had a lot of fun. Unfortunately, when pulling the pictures off the camera, we lost everything from the second half. But thankfully we do have some cute ones to post here.

The Captain and Mr. Mimic weren’t sure what to think of Disneyland when we first started talking about it. But they caught on to how AWESOME it is, once we got there.

They were required to wear their Utah shirts both days at Disneyland because we figured they’d be easier to spot that way if we somehow lost them. Also, Ute Pride.

Our boys didn’t know many of the classic Disney characters (although they figured out quickly that Mickey Mouse is central to the experience.) They do know their Pixar films though and Mr. Mimic got really excited to see Buzz Lightyear. He also wanted to touch all the characters we saw. Daboo had to drag him away from Buzz while he was screaming, “I WANT TO TOUCH YOU!”

I’m a big fan of Main Street, USA so we had to get a picture of this statue. Unfortunately, the Mouse was obscured. I think that’s Daboo’s silent protest.

We loved our complimentary breakfast.

Mmmm, forbidden donut.

This was probably our favorite ride. We went on it three times. The boys were completely unfamiliar with Song of the South, but they now know the story of Brer Rabbit and the Tar Baby. Minus the tar baby.

Have you ever really, really wanted to strangle people, while being forced to be absolutely polite in every way? Ever since I hired a lawyer, I’ve specifically wanted to strangle her secretary. First, she never ever returned my phone calls. Ever. Then, she just forgot to file the paperwork for an early adoption. As if it wasn’t her JOB to do so. As if I didn’t pay her firm $800 to do so. And then, though this wasn’t her fault, she called and postponed the adoption once again. So by the time I got to court and my actual lawyer showed up, I was in a high state of nervous energy and stress which could probably have powered downtown Salt Lake had the technology to harness it existed.

The lawyer herself was very nice — everyone was very nice — but none of them cared that I was about to explode.  C’s family came in from out of town, which was awesome, and I really really didn’t want to tell them that something had gone wrong and we were going to have to postpone again.

Now, those of you who know me are aware that I am perfectly capable of making up horrific scenarios like the adoption falling through at the last minute, and believing fervently in said scenarios for irrational reasons, but given my past experience with the State and my lawyer, you have to admit I had some reason to be nervous.

Well, everything went swimmingly. No children spat at anyone, no paperwork was accidentally forgotten, and we said our vows adequately.

They were much like traditional wedding vows — to care for, comfort, educate, and so forth, said child forever, and you can’t change your mind.  Yes, that was part of the vow. You can’t change your mind.  Of course, if C and I were going to change our minds it would probably have been 8.5 months ago, so that part was easy to rattle off.  And then we took a picture, and then some more pictures, and then we left. And yes, I managed to be polite the whole time.

So it’s done–we’ve officially adopted them, and they are ours forever.  Words can’t describe how relieved and happy I am!

We’ll be throwing some sort of celebration party after the sealing, so those of you who want to pinch their little cheeks or tickle them until they pee, you’re welcome to do so then.  That probably won’t happen until late May or June, so if you have preferences let C or I know, because we haven’t decided on a date yet.

Yay for the Mortensens!

I had the privilege of escorting Mr. Mimic and Captain Flail to the ward Easter egg hunt. They enjoyed themselves immensely and had no trouble figuring out how things worked. They were limited to twelve eggs each, and I didn’t really have to follow them around counting for them. Even the Mimic seemed to have things under control.

 


 

They had such a great time and when we got home, Mr. Mimic ate about three quarters of the candy he’d found and promptly ran upstairs to vomit it into the toilet. I tried to convince him that the reason his tummy hurt is because he ate too much candy, but he can’t seem to find it in his heart to blame the candy for his troubles.

All in all, it was a great experience.