Oh, the innocence of youth...

Tonight we were driving downtown and were slowly, with a jerk or two here and there, navigating through a tight spot, wraught with cabs, a stretch Hummer (taking up three and a half lanes as it tried to turn and found there was not enough room--weird...), and pedestrians.  Cadence observed this and commented, "Dad, I want those people to die.  I want you to crash into them and kill them."  Bummed that they passed unharmed, she looked on to the next corner and suggested we head for the guy standing there.  Then she talked about how she wants to kill somebody.  Maybe not a certain friend [name withheld], but maybe. 

Cadence at "The Big Game", as she calls it--White Sox vs. Twins

Feeling ill, Spencer and I tried to explain to her that that was the worst thing you could ever do and the saddest thing possible.  She mulled over this for a moment.
We've been having talks about life and death lately, what with all the dandelions she brings home and the "pet ladybugs" we've gone through. 
She finishes mulling and comes up with this:  "But mom, if somebody is mean to me, I want to kill them."
I clumsily launch into a lecture about how we should respond if somebody is mean, trying to figure out how to teach her how wrong what she is saying is.
    "But Mom--Prince Feel-Up (oh yes, that absolutely is what she calls him) killed Maleficent because she was being mean." Okay, Sleeping Beauty is out the door.  Goodbye, Prince Feel-Up.
We ended the conversation with me telling her that we don't talk about killing and dying and stuff.  With a kid like Cadence, that kind of finish is never enough.  Hmmm...any suggestions?

And speaking of violence, might I share a moment with you? 

As I mentioned, tonight we went downtown to share a special joy with the kids:  chocolate cake shakes from Portillos.  Oh, Mama.  After ordering, Spencer and Cadence waited at the front for our order to come up and I had Cam and Layla in our sit and stand stroller and went to find a table.  I picked a spot and tried to entertain Cam until Spencer came back. She does this thing in that stroller that scare the guts outta me.  She arches her back as far as she can, her head pops out the other side and aims down toward the ground.  She's so arched that I'm afraid that one of these days she is going to somehow slip out and land on her head, or break something and get trapped, or somehow strangle herself or something.  It just seems so dangerous.  Plus, the strap that keeps the carseat in it's place is cracked, and so not very trustworthy, and when Cam does this move, her feet push up against the seat where the carseat is and I get so scared that she is going to snap that puppy backwards.  Anyway, it's scary.  And when she does it, she's in crazy mode, so there's no way of stopping her except A) removing her, which is rewarding that dangerous behavior, or B) physically pushing her back down until her head is back where it should be and then getting in her face and saying very firmly, "NO!  NO!".   And I want her to be afraid.  So I say it really firmly.  Anyway, story's getting too long.  While this is going on I notice that the lady at the table next to me is watching, disapprovingly. 

I don't normally get embarrassed about my kids in public.  Almost never.  If people are going to judge me because my three-year-old is picking her nose or my 1-year-old is throwing a tantrum, or whatever, they can go ahead and keep their little idle minds busy by guessing what they would do.  It's so much easier to parent in your mind anyway.  I just do the best job I can being a parent and if that means that some lame-O is annoyed with the fact that I'm letting my child throw a fit as we leave the store, whatever, I'm stickin to my guns.  So it never bugs me.  And it didn't bug me this time, either.
Then Spencer got back to the table and I went to get a highchair for Campbell.  I got back and heard the lady trying to quickly and quietly tell Spencer that I was "rough" with the child.  I was angry.  Very very very.  This is not the same as being told by a stranger that you aren't changing their diaper right or that you really should back yourself and stroller onto an elevator so that you can get off easier or to "put a hat on that child!"  This was a stranger claiming that I was abusing my child.  I said nothing but she knew I had heard her and I think she saw my face as I realized what she was saying. I thought about starting a fight but she was much bigger than me.  I had to talk myself down from throwing french fries in her hair. She quickly moved to another part of the restaurant. 

Here's the thing:  it didn't bother Spencer.  Augh!  I never get offended by strangers, but seriously--just the fact that somebody was watching that scene and decided that I was hurting my child... ooooh.  I don't know.  Spencer can't understand why it bothers me so.  But I'm bothered.  The rest of the time, whenever Spencer took an initiative with the kids, like picking up Campbell to walk to the car, or wiping Cadence's hands clean, in my mind it was because in a little way he suspected me of being too "rough".  That's ridiculous, but this is how much it got to me.  I mean, you can go ahead and say that she was just looking out for the welfare of the child.  I know that's true.  But seriously.  I was not hurting that kid, I was protecting her.   rrrrrrg.   Okay, you get a prize if you read this whole long aside.  Here's a cute picture of Layla to make up for it.

In her Easter Dress.  I have a picture of me holding each girl in this dress.  But not all on this computer so you don't get to see them today.  Too bad.

The Name By Which She Will Be Called...

(Special thanks to our wonderful friend Amber for taking these GUH-ORGEOUS photos for us)

Yes, at over 4 months of age, our little Layla finally had her baby blessing!  I was afraid she wouldn't fit into the blessing dress that her sisters had worn, but she did, and as you can see, looked lovely.  As soon as Spencer started the blessing she looked up at him and just stared (as she often does) right at him, and kept it up throughout.  Spencer was a little choked up from the start, and stayed that way throughout. With the help of several versions of notes (thanks to Sarah not-beer's new husband and to Amber), here is a little summary of your baby blessing, Layla:

Layla April Clive--
We bless you to always feel comfortable at home and loved by your family, and feel that your problems can be shared with those who love you.
We bless you to have a strong character.  To have empathy, to be happy, and that you will radiate warmth to those around you.
We bless you with health and a sharp mind.
We bless you with a strong spirit, and the ability to recognize you spiritual gifts, that they may be a source of strength to you and those around you.
We bless you that, like your mother, you will love virtuous things.  Fill your life with light and resist temptation.
We bless you to have an eternal perspective when facing life's trials and the inner strength needed to overcome those trials when needed.

It was a wonderful blessing.  Layla is such a sweet and loving little person.  Her face lights up so brightly when one of us greets her.  She loves loves loves her sisters and all their kisses and loves and all the other things that one would imagine a baby would not like so much (like Campbell's need to squeeze her hand--hard, or Cadence's inability to control her excitement when she touches Layla's head, etc).

Layla was named for two very strong, very important women in our lives.  The name Layla is derived from LAY, as in Clora Fontella LAY Orton, my father's mother. Layla was born on her birthday, Nov. 28th, the year that my Grandmother would have turned 102.

  My Grandma Orton was one of my role-models.  Is.  She had 10 children and a foster child that she treated as her own.  She was a tiny, tough, hard-working, purple-loving, farmer's wife.  She was one of the first women of the church to serve a mission (southern states, I believe she spent most of her time in North Carolina).  She loved the Lord.  She loved her family, and she loved her garden.

Grandma made the yummiest coconut syrup for topping pancakes.  She had an abundance of kittens...always kittens.  It was like they never grew up at Grandma's.   Grandma had a special talent: the bee whisperer!  It is said that bees would land on her finger, and then she would take them outside to let them free.  Grandma was clever and feisty.  Although Grandma never had much money and was practical in many ways, she had a little penchant for fashion. She always wished she looked more like her mother, who had red hair and was lovely.  She told me when I was about 12 that I should have been a red head, too.  And that is one really huge reason that I now am!  Grandma loved the temple and worked there for as long as she could.  She had a very strong and very real testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  I loved my sweet Grandma Orton.  She was such a source of strength to me.  And when I picture myself being welcomed to the "other side of the veil", I picture Grandma Orton first.

Layla's middle name is April, who is Spencer's mother.  Spencer's mother is also a very strong, hard-working, loving, dedicated woman.  She is driven and talented and let me tell you I don't think there is anything that woman can't do.  That woman flew, alone, from TX to UT when she had a two-day old and a 22-month-old so that she wouldn't miss her family reunion!!!  Can you imagine the dedication!  And fortitude?  When something needs doing, April is doing it.  You name it, planning girls' camp, arranging the music for Easter Sunday Meetings, writing somebody's personal history and editing somebody else's, helping the drama departments' fundraisers, promoting some child-of-hers' rock band and hosting a quincinera are probably on her docket at any given time.  April has a memory of a computer.   Ask her a phone number.  Just ask.  She knows it.  She remembers the smallest details.  It's delightful--I always love to hear what little things she remembers.  April is generous and very thoughtful and always looking for a way to help.  If she can't come, maybe she can at least pay for somebody else to come help, or find somebody who knows somebody who knows how to help you.  In summation, I'd probably say that she is not afraid.  She is not afraid to work, to help, to step out of her comfort zone to find solutions and successes and experiences and most of all to serve. 

And that is what is in your name, Layla.

We love you!

Let the Pictures Do the Talking

I don't feel very talkative lately. Don't judge.  I'm tired?  that must be it.Spring Break at the Wisconsin Dells! (With the Hutchisons, MacNamaras, Giles, and Filmores)

Look closely--there are three little girls:On our way home from the Dells, we detoured over to Dodgeville, WI, where Spencer and I spent a summer a year after we were married.  Spencer was interning there and it was what we call "the good ol'days".  Spencer got off work every night at five.  Rode his bike home and came through the door at 5:11.  We would pack a dinner, jump on our bikes, and ride to Governor Dodge State Park (pictured) and have  a little cookout.  Ride home, make it in time to watch a movie and play some Halo, and then go to bed on our air mattress (our only furniture, other than two light weight bar stools).  We loved that summer.One day a ladybug followed us in from the park.  We watched it fly over to the window and then got busy doing other things.  That night at dinner Campbell was very excited about something and kept yelling "BABUB!! BABUB!!" And pointing to the window. She was very excited to show our little pet to daddy and they all had a great time until "Babub" fell behind the radiator and was never seen again. We have had many meltdowns about Babub since that day.

I got to teach our little preschool coop last week and so we had an Easter party.  The kids were serious about painting the eggs with primary colors. It was fun.

A Baby Story: Layla Edition

I realize it's way past the point of interest on this one, but I just really want to record the event for future reference. So here goes. Three months late.

It was Thanksgiving weekend and I was really seriously uncomfortable. I had had several stretches of time where I thought I must be in labor and then in an instant it was over. I was getting annoyed. And I had realized by that week that if the baby didn't come that weekend, then I would come during Spencer's finals week, which I didn't want. And I wanted to have the baby before my mom came out so as not to waste any of her time out here. So, there you have it, the perfect date had been calculated.

We had Thanksgiving dinner with Spencer's brother and sister-in-law, Cliff and Gina, as well as a few families in the ward. The Hennemans were there and told us that she used castor oil and that it really worked for her. I figured that since her husband is a doctor and since my body seemed to be all ready to go, it was a feasible option. I thought about it for a while. Then on the next night (friday night), Spencer and I decided it was do or die time. So he went to the Hennemans to get the castor oil. I took some. Then I took some more, and then I took some more.

Then I called Robyn and felt like a cheater. I suddenly felt really irresponsible and hasty for having done such a thing. I called her to say that it was possible that I'd go into labor that night, and since she's the one we plan to have come stay with the kids, she ought to know. I felt really dumb.

Then I went to bed feeling really normal and like it was all in vain. Until about an hour later. From one to 3:30 I had regular contractions. I started to pack bags and wake people up and by 4:30 am we were on our way. Spencer had a Playboy energy drink which he'd gotten at a marketing conference, ran down the street to get the car, and did a little leap and a scream as he loaded me in the car and jumped in. He was really excited.

The people at the hospital were less excited. We got there and got checked in by 5:00 am and by then the nurses are at the tail end of their 8-hour night shift. They weren't feeling very peppy. I wasn't feeling awesome but I was feeling excited. I was more peppy than they were, in any case. I felt dumb telling them that I took castor oil but they just smiled and said that it's normal and fine. They monitored me and said nothing was happening, even though my contractions had been coming 1 1/2 to 2 minutes apart for like 2 hours and I was dilated to a 4.5 (only .5 more than I had been the rest of the week). I was told to do the "walk" until 7 am. So Spencer and I circled the small triage center for 1 1/2 hours. I'll tell you one thing, walking and standing are a much better way of dealing with contractions than lying on your back. That's got to be the most painful position when you are in labor. If you are going to do it without drugs, don't lie down.

Meanwhile they were trying to get ahold of my doctor but couldn't. It wasn't my doctor's fault. Something was wrong with the connection, I guess. Anyway, my doctor was like, "what? It's her third, her births are fairly quick and uncomplicated, and she's dilated to a 4? Just check her in for goodness sake!" And so it was that I was finally admitted within another 1 1/2 hours had the epidural. Love that epidural. sooo much.

Our nurse in L and D was Ashleigh. She was so peppy and pleasant and seemed to really know what she was doing. We loved her. She even laughed heartily and said she loved it when Spencer erased "Father: Spencer" on the white board and replaced it with "Sperm Donor: Spencer". (I was so embarrassed and screamed at him to take it down. He thought it was pretty clever.)

Dr. Lawson showed up quite quickly and instead of doing the usual, "I'm just going to poke my head in and then disappear until the last five minutes of this ordeal and then charge you like I spent my entire day here" thing, he stayed with us the entire time. He just hung out and talked to us and got to know us. He was really great. We liked him.

Ashleigh, Dr. Lawson, Spencer and I all made official guesses as to the time of delivery and if it was a girl or a boy. Dr. Lawson and I guessed before 11:00, Spencer guessed 11:30, and Ashleigh guessed noon. I guessed boy, Spencer and Ashleigh guessed girl, and I don't remember Dr. Lawson's guess.

I had been feeling awesome, drifting in and out of sleep as I was totally relaxed by the epidural. Then around 10:00 am I started feeling contractions again. I pressed the button that was hooked up to the epidural, which was supposed to make it shoot more into me, but it didn't. I could tell I was pretty close to having the baby, as the contractions were basically one on top of the other. I could feel the pressure of the baby and I was not thrilled about this. It took several minutes for them to fix the epidural line so that the drug was coming through the tube like it should. So for about 15 minutes I could feel it all and then it started to fade away. Within 5 or 10 minutes of the epidural working again it was time for me to push!

Everybody was getting into position. They moved a mirror for me, which I was feeling mixed about but figured I could look if I wanted and if I didn't, I'd just look away. In the end I looked and was glad I did--it looked different than I imagined. Anyway, everybody was bustling around and Ashleigh was like, "Okay, almost time--don't push yet", and Dr. Lawson was like, "You're ready. Don't listen to them--just push". It was kind of funny adn since it wasn't my first it didn't stress me out at all. I just started pushing. Within about 5 minutes the baby was out.

Now, recall that this was a sex-surprise--we hadn't found out if it was a boy or a girl. But in the moment that I should have been waiting to hear the announcement I wasn't even thinking about it, I was just in awe at the beautiful little baby that I had just borne. "And it's a... GIRL!" Dr. Lawson said, but it didn't even register to me for a few seconds, it being a girl just seemed so obvious or something. You know, babies ARE girls. That's what they are: GIRLS. Spencer and I were so happy and excited and elated and thrilled....as usual, Spencer shed a few tears as he became a father again. My eyes get all watery, but I don't let 'em roll like he does :)

I had been planning on the name Corinne for basically the whole pregnancy, but suddenly at this moment it just didn't seem right. I just couldn't call her that. I didn't know why. So we sent out announcements without names. When we spoke with my mom she reminded us that it was in fact my grandma Orton's (Clora Fontella Lay Orton) birthday: Nov. 28. We decided we'd really like to consider that in finding a name for her. It took us a day and a half to decide on a name. It was almost Darcy Fontella, almost April Clora, almost a bunch of other things. But we felt really good about Layla.

The first thing I noticed about Layla was her really cute feet. She still has the cutest little baby feet. The other thing I noticed was her hair. She had dark dark hair. Not a ton, but enough to consider her NOT bald, which was a first for our offspring. She also had it on her ears and her shoulders, dark, soft hair. It was so cute.

From the beginning Layla was the sweetest thing. I just can't imagine life without her, already. She brings so much joy and a new level of completeness to our little family of five (not that it's complete just yet). I love to have her close to me, just like I do all of my children. I guess nowt hat I've got three I can sit still and really appreciate the few moments of quiet, still mom-and-me time we get, instead of thinking of all the other things I need to get done.

Layla's birth was a great experience. I hated being alone in the hospital, though. Spencer had to be home with the other two girls at nights and for much of the days, so I was alone. Luckily I was feeling pretty well so it wasn't too hard for me to get up and change the baby and stuff like that, but I felt so alone and so tired and just wanted somebody to be there with me.

It was a great birth and a great recovery. She is a beautiful baby with a shining, happy personality. Can't wait to watch it all unfold. And for as much as I hate being pregnant, I'm kind of excited about doing it all again. Just not too soon.

Cadence-, Campbell-, and Layl-isms

Layla is so flippin' cute that it's dangerous.  Those of us around her all the time are often  tempted to squeeze and chew and kiss her to the extreme.  Luckily usually she gets off with no more than peanut butter or chewed goldfish smeared in her hair and maybe some painfully loud, "I LOVE LAYLA SO MUCH" whispers right in her ear (thanks to Cadence). 

We like her.  She talks more than any baby I've seen.  I mean, if she can get you to make eye contact, BAM!  She's got you hooked and she's going to coo and sigh and babble for as long as she can get you to listen.  Even Cadence was not as talkative as Layla is.  She smiles at everybody and she takes all the overly-zealous cuddling and kissing and loving like a champ.

Campbell is a a little spitfire these days.  She has become quite opinionated and her vocabulary is increasing every day.  One of my favorite things that she does is "the headcount".  She looks around and names all the family members present.  It's so funny, like she's constantly keeping track of where everybody is.  She does that about once an hour, all day.  Another thing I love is her "counting".  She has the cadence of counting down, just not the words.  "Doo [one], do [two], do [three]!"  It appears that she can count to about 5, except that all the numbers sound the same.  She uses counting to make it clear that she is not going to wait around (just like mom--the time out count down).  She hates time out but if Cadence is in time out she will go sit quietly next to her with her arms folded. 

And for some reason, she has this fetish with putting food on her toes.  She lifts her toes up to the table and smashes food into them.  And then when I'm wiping her clean she begs me to clean her toes off with the same rag I use for wiping her face.

One day I decided to be a fun mom, so we made a fort.  It was a mess.  A really exciting mess.

Cadence is really into dressing herself, wearing swimsuits/leotards for everyday play clothes, and the Spanish language.  Since most of the time we aren't doing anything particularly special these days, (it's pretty tough to get out, with all three, in the cold--can you imagine how long the bundling process took?  Another day, another post) I don't fight the dressing battle.  I let her choose.  It gives me leverage for when I need to call the shots, which she doesn't like me to do.  Ever.  So most days she wears either a swimsuit, a leotard, or a princess dress.  Or a strappy little summer dress.  In any case it's ALWAYS inappropriate for the weather.

Cadence overhears Spanish being spoken a great deal, since many of the families in our building are Chilean and Argentine.  She has really become interested in it. She pretends to speak it and the gibberish that comes out of her mouth is a very good imitation of Spanish.  At least once a day I'll say something to her, such as, "Cadence, please put your pajamas on",  and her response will be, "Mom, en espanol, please".  Naturally, she loves Dora.  She's learning a little each day and asks us to translate her bedtime stories into Spanish, too, which is impossible for me and really difficult for Spencer.  Any suggestions on how to continue encouraging this?

Cadence is often overheard saying, "I love you so much, Layla!!!  But I don't love Campbell."  She give hugs and kisses out to all the family and then refuses to give them to Campbell saying, "I don't have enough 'lovesers' left.  I only had one hug and I gave it to Layla."  Don't worry Campbell.  Merica wasn't particularly fond of me until she actually moved away to college and finally had to live life without me.  And now I''m indispensible (well...).  Deep down, Cadence loves you.  You're too loveable.

I look at pictures like this and I can't use words to describe the love.  This is my everything, sitting on a couch enjoying the moment.  And Cadence is. of course, in swimsuit, by the way.

And I made this quilt. (with a great deal of help from my mom).

Dancing with the [Bollywood] Stars!

I've been postponing this so that I could also include an article that Spencer is writing for the school newspaper about his experience...but I got bored of waiting.  This is worth putting up.

Spencer includes this note: I uploaded a clip captured by my buddy in the audience of us dancing with Shahrukh. Check it out on YouTube. We were a little out of sync at the beginning as I was following the sequence from the movie, but once we started following SRK's lead it smoothed out.



Here it is, the moment Spencer has waited for his whole life, queu the song, "One Moment In Time" that we sang for fifth grade "graduation".... (and then queu the Bollywood Classic Chaiya Chaiya).



Yep, that's my husband.  On stage in front of millions of screaming fans.  Strange, we expected to hear from the Bollywood talent scouts by now.

Blah Blah Black Sheep

Not once, but every time:

Cadence's version:

"Blah blah black sheep, many many wool?
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.

One for my mastard, one for m'day,
One for the little boy, who's asleep under the haystack,

Blah blah black sheep, many many wool?
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full."

I think my favorite is "mastard". 


BTW, Spencer has returned safely from India and pics and footage will be available shortly.  And yes, it really was as awesome as he said.