We can go ice skating and eat sugar plums!

I was was trying to stifle my giggles and keep a steady hand on the camera when mamala called from the kitchen, "She didn't!" My giggling increased, and I knew the camera was shaking. I called in reply, "She did!" Babyla was looking at me with a half grin, trying to figure out why I was laughing at her. Finally I gave up and ended the video taping. I hadn't taped her for a while, so I had decided to do so while she was putting presents under the tree. That turned out to be quite boring, however, so I had her sing a few songs. Then I got a brilliant idea--babyla can count to 30, so I decided to have her count! I said, "Let's see how high you can count. Count for me." Babyla counted 1,2,3,4,5. With each number, she held up the same amount of fingers (she does it funny--it's pointer finger, pinky, middle finger, then all four fingers, then all 5 with the thumb). When she finished, I waited for her to continue. When she didn't, I said "Count higher!" Babyla looked at me for a split second, reached her hand way up in the air and stretching to get as high as she could, and said, fingers ticking off, "1,2,3,4,5. Then she looked at me, waiting for my praise. Or to know why I was laughing.

On the lighter side...

So my other post today is somewhat serious. I thought I would throw in some humor. I finally have babyla potty trained in the house. Yay! Last week, she was teeteeing in the potty, which that day was in the kitchen. Fh was here, and babyla asks him, "Josh, want to teetee with me?" He politely declined her generous offer.

Cuz tomorrow is a brand new day & it don't know white from black

Church has always been an important part of my life. I love my church, but I have also been interested in others’ services. I have been to Catholic masses (I went to Catholic schools through high school), Jewish temple and a Lutheran service. But I have never been to a Baptist church. I was always a little nervous at the thought of a Baptist church since I know they tend to not like those from my faith and my few Baptist friends I have had have not been nice in the religion department. However, I have always wanted to attend an African-American Southern Baptist service. I have heard about them and seen them on TV, so this assignment (to do something we have never done but always wanted to; for a class at u of m) was my chance to attend one live. I, along with my fiancé and my daughter, went to the church of a friend of my mother’s: New Hope Baptist Church.
My first impression was how huge the church was. There were two entrances on the street flanked by impressive brick walls welcoming us to worship. We found a spot to park, and I finally began to feel nervous. My fears were lessened somewhat when we got in the building and everyone started welcoming us. We even filled out guest cards they had for us. This began what impressed me the most about the church—everyone was so nice! We were welcomed, hugged, spoken with, patted, you name it—all during the service. It was like a breath of fresh air to meet such kind and welcoming people. We found our seats, shown to us by ushers, and looking around I quickly realized we were indeed the only white people there. And I slowly began to feel the color of my skin. The service was nice, if a bit loud, and people continued to welcome us. Sometimes I would look around at the congregation to find children staring at us, no doubt wondering what we were doing there. At one point during the service, a woman went to the stand with a stack of cards in her hand and announced “We have some guests here with us today!” My fiancé, Josh, said my face visibly drained of color. I felt my eyes widen and I shrank back in my seat as the realization dawned on me that they were going to introduce us to the entire congregation. And they did. And before I knew what hit me, there were people everywhere hugging me and shaking Josh’s hand. After what seemed about an hour we were able to sit down as other guests were introduced. After that, the service went by pretty quickly. My daughter wanted a flag like those being waved, so she contented herself with waving her program. I also got to see a woman get so into the music or whatever was touching her that she started dancing with a pained expression on her face. She danced her way out of the row, pushing everyone out of the way, out to the aisle where she passed out. It was definitely something I have never seen before. Finally it was time to go and we left, a little relieved to get to the quietness of the car.
I learned several things from this experience, mostly about myself. First, I learned that there are instances when I do not like getting up in front of other people. Normally I love being in the spotlight, but now I realize not when I am the only white person in a huge room of African-Americans. This leads to the second thing I learned and that is what it is like to feel the color of my skin. I have never felt that before; it has never even crossed my mind. I have always been in the majority wherever I have gone, and here I was thrust into being a minority—completely alone. Another white person there would have helped (besides Josh and my daughter), but there were none. It was not a pleasant feeling, wanting in a way to hide my skin, to want to look like everyone else. Needless to say I was completely out of my comfort zone. A third thing I have learned is how wonderfully nice people can be. I have never been so welcomed before. Whenever I speak of New Hope Baptist Church, it will be to praise them in their kindness and welcome.

Round 5 we'll book the wedding band

Fh and I have a wedding site. On it are pics of us, babyla, stories, info, everything. PLease visit us there at thebeers.ourweddingday.com
Thanks!

Goonies and plaid pants

So i've been meaning to tell these stories for a while. I'm a slacker and keep procrastinating, hoping in part maybe that something exciting will happen for me to write about. But alas, these are the most writable things in the last couple weeks, assuming not everyone wants to know every detail about my wedding plans or every single thing that comes out of my child's mouth (though it's all amazing & brilliant).

But I will tell one story about her. We were visiting my friend and her family in the hospital where her dad had just had heart surgery. My friend, babyla and I were sitting in the room coloring. Babyla picks up a greenish yellow crayon and says, "this looks like chartreuse!" My friend and her mom looked at me with big eyes, totally impressed I;m sure by the fact that a 3-year-old knows what chartreuse is. Unfortunately, I could not take the credit for this. Rather, I must tip my hat, nod, whatever to Joe on Blues Clues. TV does do something for our kids! Thanks, Donovan Patton!

OK, so this next incident is totally all me. A group of us went to see A Nightmare Before Christmas in 3D. FH and I were the last to get there, so we were on the end of the row next to ATeam. There were maybe 8-10 other peeps there. So before the movie starts I stand up to look down the row to see who else was there. Next to one guy was a girl I had never met before. The guy (let's call him... Ben. Sounds like a good name!) calls to me, "This is my!" I paused, waiting for him to follow with something like friend, coworker, cousins, something! When nothing was forthcoming, I said, "Your what?" He said, "No, My!" I said, realizing he must be telling me her name, "Mia?" "No," he said, "Mai!" Ahhh. I said hi to Mai (who's apparently from Vietnam and is one of those friendly tiny beautiful people that you automatically want to be friends with, if only to up your public image). I imagine the people in the rows around us had fun with my brain fart.

So that's about it. We have had no instances of any poop eating, which is reassuring.

The Candyman Can Cause He Mixes It With Love

We all have our places in life. Some of us are destined to be graceful, cool, and lucky. Some off us are destined to be fun-loving, silly and witty. Then, some of us are destined to be... as my mother put it... klutzy doofs. Which sums me up pretty well, I think.

The first story I had to blog pales in comparison to the second, but it none-the-less does have a gross-out factor. I was running in my neighborhood in an attempt to get back in shape for the Race for the Cure at the end of the month. Toward the end of my run, I was almost back home and covered in sweat. Like I had been swimming sweat. Which is when I ran through a cloud of gnats. You know those little clouds where the gnats just swirl around each other? Yeah, that one. I ran through it. And any half-intelligent person can figure out what happened. To make a long story short, when I got home I had to go to the bathroom to clean all the gnats off my face.

On Sunday in between conference sessions our singles branch met at the president's house for lunch. After we had all eaten, some people started to trickle out. Toward the end, there were about 15 or so people still there. I was sitting in a chair, some random guy I didn't know was next to me, and FH and babyla were sitting on the piano bench playing on the piano. I noticed my friend A-team taking a pic of 2 other friends, so I thought it would be fun to hop over to where that pic was being taken, on the other side of a Love Sac, and stick my face in. I did. So I decided to hop back. But it didn't work out so well. I was told later that my foot got caught on the Love Sac, causing me to trip. Whatever happened, all of a sudden I was on the floor, mortified. I got up, grossly aware of the silence in the room as everyone had stopped to watch. I sat back down in my chair, and slowly converstaion resumed. I became aware of babyla asking over and over, "Mommy, are you ok?" FH was concerned. Apparently I had hit the piano bench on my way down. I said I was fine. It wasn't til we were leaving that I told FH my wrist REALLY hurt.

So we watched the second session, my wrist getting worse the whole time. By the evening, I conceded to my parents wishes and went to the ER. Long story short--fortunately, my wrist is not broken, just severely bruised. The bruising and swelling causes the pain and lack of movement. I have a splint to wear for the week. klutzy doof, eh? What's even better is the pic I hopped into had a delayed flash, and I didn't know. Only my ear made it into the photo.

CarolAnne, come towards the light!

So I haven't written anything lately cuz I feel like my life is boring. But I had to write this. Fh and I were having fhe with babyla. It was a lesson about light and dark, and how Jesus is the light. To get to the light, we have to obey and be good and share, etc. There was a sheet of paper for light and one for dark. Babyla picked up the dark one and said, "I want this one." Fh said "Why do you want that one?" Babyla replied, "I can't eat poopies in the dark."

Kinda makes you wonder what she does in the light.

I'm getting married!

Bf proposed to me last night (Saturday)!! So now we're getting married. I guess he's not bf anymore. Hm, now what is he? fe? fn? fc? Ooh, maybe fh for "future hubby." I think I'll go with that.

I kinda new it was coming, just not when. So I was surprised when he proposed. Even more so that he did it in French! Je t'aime. Tu m'epousera? I said, Oui! This guy totally knows how to melt my heart. Which is good, cuz we're going to be together for a long time now. Yay for us!

So here's how giddy I was. That night, we went out to dinner then met up with some friends to play laser tag. We were at the counter, and I was spacing out, thinking about marrying fh. Everyone else was discussing what there laser tag names were going to be--you know, the ones that show up on the tv's. So when ATeam asked what mine woiuld be, all I heard in my wedding-filled thoughts was, "What's your name going to be?" So of course I said Amanda --. Everyone busted out laughing. It took a while for them to calm down enough to explain to me what was really going on. Sigh. I have a feeling it's going to be like this for the duration of the engagement! And the n prolly after too. I'm a goober.

Pink jelly beans and rainbows

So a really funny story happened when I was at church on Sunday. It comprises me, bf and one of my good friends, Ateam (the names have been changed to protect the innocent). So bf and i were sitting in front of Ateam and another girl we're friends with during sacrament (during the talks). I kept turning around and giving Ateam funny looks and making her laugh. So bf turns to me and says, with a completely straight face (all boyish and handsome. heehee!)--anyway, he says, "you're gonna give her an enema!" I stared at him in shock and hissed, "A WHAT??" I sat there, not understanding what was happening in my life. Bf sat there blankly for a moment, then stammered, "I.. mean.. aneurysm!" I busted out laughing. And kept laughing. And kept laughing. I was shaking, crying, clasping my hands over my mouth to keep as quiet as possible. I eventually calmed down, you know, thinking about death and sad things like in Mary Poppins. Only it didn't work in the movie, nor did it completely work with me. Little spasms of giggles kept ussuing forth from my facial orifice. So after sacrament, I turned to Ateam to talk about what happened. I thought bf had told her what he had said, but he hadn't. I didn't know. So I said to her, "I had this vision in my head of me giving you an enema!" Ateam politely looked at me and said, "um, that's nice." That's when I realized she didn't know what had made me laugh so hard. After I explained it to her, then she was able to laugh also. Whew. I'm still laughing about this one, and I'm sure to continue laughing about it for a while. My bf is so awesome. I need to be with a man who's fun to be around, and can be laughed at. Cause goodness knonws I get laughed at A LOT. By everyone. The end by Amanda

Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

Babyla is going through this phase where she's afraid of everything. Mostly the vents in our house. That first started when we had them cleaned months ago. It was all very loud, and I guess she realized they existed then. But she's still scared of them! Now she's also scared of the dark, animals, people she doesn't know, people she does know, etc. etc. etc. I can tell her scared attack is coming on when she gets quiet and still. Sometimes she'll whimper to herself. Then, if I can't talk her down, she starts the tantrum. This only started about a week ago! I read in my "What to Expect the Toddler Years" that this is normal for her age, but sheesh! I guess just something else to get through. That and I decided to learn Spanish. BF speaks Spanish cuz he served his mission there, and I think it would be helpful to learn. So I bought a textbook and I'm teaching myself. Not so bad since I know French. I can now say "Soy de los estados unidos" and "mi novio es simpatico and divertido." Basically I know pronouns, the verb ser, and pronunciation. Yay for me! maybe I'll end up tri-lingual. Then maybe I can invent my own language like Tolkien and be one of those totally hip nerdy geeks. Narf.

Prayer Time

So babyla is picking up finally French prayer. She says certain phrases with me, and now wants to pray by herself in French. She's better praying in English, of course, but it's always cuter when she's trying to speak French. It sounds something like this: (and put it baby talk) Notre Pere Celeste, nous ----(lots of incoherent sounds)--- merci pour nana, merci pour mommy, merci pour gampa, ---(more incoherent sounds)--- je t'aime, jesus christ, amen. Whew! A big prayer for a little girl. I taught her "merci pour" instead of "je te remercie" cuz it's shorter and easier. Maybe if I could put Blues Clues or WonderPets in French she's learn faster. But then she might kill me cuz she wouldn't be able to sing along! Which might be a good idea, cuz that WonderPets song seriously gets stuck in my head.

Demain soir je vais avoir un boum a la piscine de la grandmere. Elle a un tres belle piscine. J'ai quelques amis qui vont nager, et j'ai fait un CD de la musique. J'espere qu'il va etre un bon boum. ooh, c'est hypercool-bon boum. hee hee. alors, je suis le dj pour un autre grand fete cette semaine prochaine, et tout le monde vont danser. La musique pour cette fete la est la musique que vais utiliser demain soir. Si le petit boum a la piscine est bon et tout le monde aiment la musique, puis je sais que la semaine prochaine ve etre un succes.

Weekend woes

So my bf's mom and bro were in town this weekend. While they were here, we came to my house and I set the alarm off. So I felt dumb, and was flustered when the alarm people called to check to see if everything's ok. Of course when they called I didn't respond correctly to their questions (to which we have preset answers). So then... the police come. Not just coming to check things out, but the driveway blocked and the house surrounded! OK, surrounded being one cop at the front door and one cop (er, police officer) in the backyard. But still, right? My dad just happened to be coming home right at that time, so he got issued a warning. What a great impression I must have made to bf's mom. Heavy sigh. nanoo nanoo.

Ma soiree francaise etait bonne. Le meme jour, j'ai dit a babyla (note: I call my daughter babyla. I got it from SNL, you know the one with Mike Myers playing the Jewish talk show host. This episode had Madonna and Roseanne played her mom. Madonna kept calling her mamala, which i started calling my mom. So naturally I transferred it to my babyla). Alors, le meme jour j'ai dit a babyla, "qu'est-ce que c'est" parce que je veux qu'elle comprend le francais. Elle connais "qui est-ce". Chaque fois que j'ai dit "qu'est-ce que c'est" elle a repondu "I can't" Quoi?! J'ai dit, "no, say qu'est-ce que c'est" Elle a repondu, "no." Peut-etre la phrase est si grande pour elle. Ou peut-etre elle ne s'inquiete pas. grande souffle. nanoo nanoo.

My baby speakin' in tongues

So I'm attempting to teach my daughter French. She's 3, so I don't think it's too late. I should have been teaching it to her before now. I can't speak in French to her all the time because no one around me speaks it, so I do the best I can. So now, my daughter will start talking jibberish. It'll sound something like this: "noons cekee ke noons and bon nwee and noons cekee..." it goes on and on. Sometimes I think there may be some French word somewhere in there, but I have no idea what "noons" is. She says it the most in her rambles. So I guess it's cute. I mean, everything she does is cute, right?

Demain soir quelques de mes amis et moi vont avoir une soiree francaise. alors, les amis de moi qui parlent francais. on va manger des baguettes et fromage et nutella et choses comme ca. puis on va jouer petanque et puis regarder le (la?) dessein Asterix contre Cesar. Ca sera une bonne fete, oui? c'est une bonne chance parler francais, dont j'ai pas la chance tres souvent. C'est vachement cool!

Monday Monday

I actually like Miondays since I don't have a real job. Or at least one where I get paid in money. Cause being a mom is a job, holla! School starts again soon, so I'll be working again, but until then... I like Monday's. I guess the most exciting thing that happened to me over the weekend was when I learned why they tell you to starp the wii hand thingie to your wrist (I know... technical terms are so my forte). My boyfriend bought me Resident Evil 4, which is really fun, but a scray game. We were playing late Saturday night when a fireball came flying and landed right on me. It scared me and I yelled and jumped, almost throwing the controller across the room. So peeps, strap the controller to your hand. They tell you that for a reason.

I feel a little depressed that that was the most interesting thing this weekend. Tonight I'm going to FHE with the sinlges, so maybe something fun will happen there (FHE= Family Home Evening. Our church counsels us to have one every Monday night with our family. We have a spiritual lesson, reads scriptures, sing hymns, whatever, then do a family activity like play a game. Since every night is pretty much FHE with my daughter, I go to a group FHE with all my single friends. It's fun.) Aight y'all. Amanda, out.

First blog ever

So this is... um, my first blog ever। I feel so hip. And technoligically savvy. Yay for me! So here's who I am. I'm a mid-twenties single mom. I was briefly married (now THAT is an interesting story), just long enough to get knocked up. I'm a Mormon (hence the momos thing, which is what my mom and I called ourselves). I went to BYU, got married, got pregnant, got seperated, got my diploma, got divorced, and voila! Here I am. I am now a grad student and I have a 3 year old girl. And I'm seeing someone. Yay for me again! So this is a pretty boring blog so far. I promise I'll be more exciting once I get past this intro junk, eh. heehee-now I feel like a Canadian. No offence to Canada. They rock. But for real. Stick around folks-it's gonna be a bumpy night!

Quelquefois je vais ecriver en francais. je le parle et j'aime la langue.