I Like You - The Henderson Files

why adoption?

2011-08-25T10:28:00.001-07:00

Ben and I decided when we were engaged that whether we could have biological children or not, we wanted to grow our family through adoption. It's such a dazzling, touching principle, and we knew we wanted it to be a part of our lives. We have been blessed with three amazing kids,who are our world. Now, we feel this big, huge feeling telling us it's time for us to adopt! There are so many reasons why, in addition to just knowing. We have the love, we have the ability, we have seen the miracle of adoption in both of our families. Our kids are giddy with the plan. During my certification process as a preschool teacher, I read book after book covering the merits and challenges of adoption. After this, we knew that we would want to adopt a baby right on the heels of having a biological baby, so that bonding could take place through breast feeding. Also, the two little babes could be buddies and essentially twins. When Ida was born, we knew she was the one! She is such an amazing, sweet-tempered little baby. She is so wonderful, and will be such a special part of our adopted baby's life. The list goes on and on. We know we want a big family, full of love, fun, diversity, and connection. We can't wait to see this continue to happen.

the definitive Ben and Eirene

2011-08-25T10:26:00.002-07:00

About Ben (by Eirene): Ben is my favorite person on the planet. He is charming, funny, witty, kind, sincere, intelligent, hard-working, and thoughtful. I miss him when he's not with me, I laugh continually when he is. He is my best friend. I first met him in the eighth grade, where he had the advantage over all the other pre-pubescent boys of having a job (in the lunch kitchen) and knowing how to drive. In high school (where we were just friends) we were in drama, student council, and tenth grade biology together. In drama, we played opposite one another in the play "Annie". He was Warbucks, and I was Annie (it might be speculated that this gave us our first taste for adoption!) (kidding). His parents taught him the value of hard work, kindness, and manners. I never knew Ben that he didn’t have a job (except when he was a missionary for two years in South Africa). If I had had any brains, I would have been head over heels for him in high school, although I do remember once confiding in my best friend that one day Ben Henderson was going to make a great dad. Years later, when our paths re-crossed, it took about five minutes for us to fall in love. We dated for two months, were engaged for two months, and the following year, I had the delight of finding out how dead right I had been about Ben all along. He is an amazing father. Our children adore him, as is evidenced by their shouts of joy whenever they hear the garage door open. Ben is the manager of a flower wholesaler (yes, that means lots of fresh flowers for me). He loves his job, his’65 Ford pick-up Leona, reading the news, and taking care of our yard. He knows the words to old country songs, and he reads to the kids every night. He is my treasure. Quote: “Lightning McQueen, I only missed you a little bit. I missed Mae and Ike a lot!”

About Eirene (by Ben): Mrs. Henderson, Eireenie, or just Reenie is one of those few people in life that seem to light the way for everyone else. She has an infectious charisma and spunk that can make anyone crack a smile and has kept me entertained for the 13 years I've known her. From the moment we became friends our freshman year of high school I felt an immediate deep bond with Eirene that I wouldn't fully understand until about 5 years later when she looked me up after discovering that we lived in the same college town. I knew it. The instant she wrapped her arms around my neck on our first date I felt like I was coming home after a long absence. I felt refreshed! Eirene thinks, learns, and speaks for herself. Her mind, heart, and soul are open to all that is beautiful, beneficial, and fun. She isn't content with letting knowledge come to her, she anxiously yearns for it and actively seeks it out. Eirene doesn't settle for the status quo in any circumstance, but rather believes in change, progress, and improvement. I knew all of these things about Eirene long before we began dating, but after having grown up and matured much I was finally ready to soak it all in! I knew that if I was going to have a chance at being truly happy and satisfied with my life and endeavors, that I had to marry Eirene. I knew that if I wanted to experience true love in all of its ups and downs, trials and triumphs; if I wanted to make any sort of impact on the world for good, I had to marry Eirene. I married Eirene! I married life and joy! Eirene is a true pleasure. Whether the medium be paint, pen, or photoshop--she is an artist. Whether the student be grumpy husband, eager child, or spiritually needy churchgoer--she is a teacher. Be the recipient a baby's bottom, a child's head, or her own shoulders--she is a seamstress. Eirene can do and actively does anything she desires. If she sees something she wants to wear, cook, or achieve she gets a book from the library and teaches herself how to make it happen. My wife is a doer. My wife doesn't just believe in good things, she IS good things! Eirene is the mother of our three incredible children. Everything she does has the ultimate effect of teaching and nurturing Mae, Ike, Ida, and their daddy. She teaches through example and tender understanding. She helps me understand how our individual children need individual care, time, and love. All of Eirene's education, hard work, sacrifice, and life experience has created an unbeatable, unbelievable mother. Eirene brings me joy, encouragement, happiness, laughter, fulfillment, forgiveness, and faith. She is my inspiration in all I think, do, and say. With Eirene as my wife--a true woman of God--how could I ever go wrong!?

all about Mae

2011-08-25T10:26:00.001-07:00

Mae Ella Henderson is four years old. She is as girly as you please--pink, unicorns, fairies, interpretive dance, and anything that has glitter on it. She is lovely in every way. Endlessly helpful with her younger siblings, Mae takes great pride in being the big sister. She is eager to participate in anything that involves Ida, from choosing clothes for her to wear to helping me bathe her. She also puts in a lot of hours with Ike, her partner in crime. I fear her efforts to civilize him will wear her out. Mae saves every cent she finds in a box to save up for our adoption, and is ecstatic to have another baby to love and adore. In fact, a few weeks after Ida was born, Mae Mae was telling me “Mama, we have got to get another baby.” She is a great leader, and a great example. She is kind and generous and very responsible about her chores (except when she’s not). She loves to play, pretend, and dress up with her cousins and friends. She is learning to read and write at home preschool, and writes letters to just about everyone. She is a great artist, and asks to paint nearly every single day (watercolors are her favorite). Quote: “Ikey, this is not a zoo, it’s a sleepover!”

this little Ike of mine

2011-08-25T09:52:00.000-07:00

Benjamin Ike Henderson is a delightful little guy who brings down the house pretty much every time he opens his mouth. If comedic timing is something it is possible for a three year old to have, Ike's got it. He is friendly and talkative, and often opens conversations by saying "I like you." A real crowd pleaser is his Popeye impression, complete with muscle flexing, and if he can get his hands on it, spinach eating. When Ike is the raspy Popeye, the rest of us are cast thus: Dada - Bluto, Popeye's big, bearded nemesis. Mama - Olive Oyl, Popeye's love interest. Mae - The Magical Horse (Note: not an actual Popeye related character, but Mae refused to be Wimpy, Popeye's hamburger eating amigo).

Popeye: "Oliboyl, wook at me. I'm hitting Bwuto."
Mama: "Ikey, we don't hit people."
The Magical Horse: "Mama, you have to use your Olive Oyl voice."
Olive Oyl: "Popeeeeye, don't hit Blutoooo."
Bluto: "Yeah Popeye! You little runt, don't hit me!"
Popeye: "Sowwy Bwuto! I will kiss you."
The Magical Horse: "No, Popeye doesn't kiss Bluto!"
Ike: "Yes, I CAN kiss Bluto!"
Mae: "No Ikey, Popeye doesn't kiss Bluto, he kisses Olive Oyl."
Ike: "Oh. Okay."
The Magical Horse: "You have to use your Popeye voice!"
Popeye: "Oh. Okay."
Olive Oyl: "Oh, Popeeeye! Thanks for the kiiiisss!"
Bluto: "Hey, I want to kiss Olive Oyl, too!"

You get the idea. Ikey loves playing with his sisters (and the rest of us), and is a wonderful big brother. He has to give Ida B. kisses every time he sees her, and always volunteers to cheer her up when she is cranky.
Quote: "Where are the toys in this shoe restaurant?"

Miss Ida B. Rainbow Caroline Henderson

2011-08-24T21:00:00.000-07:00

Ida Caroline Henderson was born on April 20, 2011 in our living room. Mae took one look at her and said, “Name her Rainbow.” Every day she has been in our lives has been a complete joy. She loves to smile, slobber, make new sounds with her little voice, and laugh hysterically when her Dada kisses her on the tummy. She loves her brother and sister and tolerates a good deal of loving from them. She is endlessly sweet, calm and enjoyable.

back in the saddle

2011-08-24T16:05:00.000-07:00

Well, people, we're back. Wasn't that fun when I was a fabric designer for a glorious five minutes? It was fun. Back to business.

New Blog

2010-05-08T16:59:00.000-07:00

Hey, everyone (if there's anyone still reading this blog :), I (Eirene) am starting a new blog at eirenehenderson.blogspot.com. Some crazy exciting things have happened around here which have necessitated that I start a new blog, (and you'll have to go and find out what at the aforementioned blog!) The new blog will be a bit more anonymous, but it'll still have all the family stuff on there, and probably be a bit more consistent. (Wait, probably not... but maybe). Anyway, love and guts!

Eirene

Our Christmas!

2009-12-24T12:11:00.000-08:00

Absolutely incredible! Those are the only two words I have to describe our Christmas, and our Mama!!! Eirene made our Christmas. Figuratively, spiritually, and perhaps most of all, literally! Here is a sampling of our handmade Christmas:

Mae: Beautiful doll (now known as Harper), matching nightgowns and dresses for Mae and Harper, a knit winter hat, a gorgeous coat, and a cute purse all made by mama; and a cradle for Harper made by dada.

Ike: Superman pj's, knit monster hat, monster backpack, monster stuffed animal (really cool!), and a stickhorse all made by mama; and a pinewood derby truck made by dada.

Dada: Sweet F-16/paper airplane tshirt, ipod armband, awesome fatherly "Lucky Charms, anyone?" apron, and an incredibly intricate knit winter hat all made by Eirene.

Eirene is simply incredible and really made our Christmas wonderful. We also got some very great gifts from family and friends. I hope you all enjoy your Christmases as much as we've enjoyed ours! Merry Christmas!

Ben

Our Christmas Eve

2009-12-24T06:46:00.000-08:00

So dada has to work tomorrow (Christmas), so the Henderson's Christmas is today! While mama and the kiddies are still sleeping, I wanted to quickly post some pics from last night's Christmas eve before I don't have time! We went the homemade Christmas route this year, and Eirene made Mae a little (almost too little!) nightgown to match the one that her new doll is wearing (she'll open it this morning!), and she made Ike Superman pajamas. Last night--our Christmas eve--we first read the Christmas story from Luke 2 in the Bible taking a moment in between verses to explain a little to Mae. We then watched Joy to the World, the Church's relatively new nativity movie. It was so fun to watch Mae pick out things from the story we'd just read in the scriptures and understand what was happening! We then opened our new pajamas, and Mae instantly felt like an angel in her white nightgown. She flipped over a little laundry basket and started the angelic chorus. Ikey soon followed by flipping over another little basket and standing on it right next to Mae and joining in the songs! It was a beautiful night, and I am really excited for this morning when they wake up!!! More to come...

Pictures Pictures...

2009-08-23T18:40:00.000-07:00

Hrmmm. Catch up.

2009-08-23T15:52:00.000-07:00

Howdy folks. Ben here. Its been awhile since either of us have been on the ol' bloggy. I'm going to throw up a few pictures in a lazy attempt to catch up. Most people would then commit to keep current from that point onward. That is most likely not the case with me!

Family. Isn't it about...Blogging?

2009-03-06T12:56:00.000-08:00

One of the funnest parts about being a mom are those times when everything is peaceful, and you get to relax for a minute, and maybe check your email, or putter around at anthropologie.com, but then you realize that it's too peaceful. Suspiciously peaceful. And sure enough, your daughter has painted her face yellow.

Another fun part is when your baby starts army crawling around the house, and eating whatever he can salvage from the recycling bin. (His favorites have definitely been church magazines.)

closer...

closer...

he got me!

A potato for your thoughts is just so much more delicious.
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Ahhh...sleep. Ahhh...milk.

Don't let her fool you. She's definitely not training. She just likes to read on the pot. And don't we all?

Looking particularly Bennish.

Baby No More

2009-02-20T13:27:00.000-08:00

Not sure when this happened, but our Mae became a girl. I mean, not that she ever was otherwise... I mean... well, you know what I mean. She is just so big! She has thoughts and opinions and a personality. She pronounces blanket "bacon", she calls circles "bubbles", and she says "allriiiiight!" after she suggests you get her a snack. She's quick, my kid. I'd could go on and on and on, but we're off to the park. We'll run and play, and blow some circles.

Let's get down to the knitty gritty

2009-02-08T12:44:00.001-08:00

Before I begin, a little light philosophy: Blogging is a nice way to share photos and anecdotes about one's life for the enjoyment and information of any who care. There are some who view it as a sort of online dinner party with a complex set of social rules and an exhausting standard of etiquette. I vote we take the surplus knives and forks out of blogging, and look at it as more of a spontaneous picnic. Let's take the "Emily" out of "Post."
Now, let's talk knit. Lately, I have become a knitter. (As in, within the last four months.) My friend Kristiina gave me a crash course on the basics, but I only recently knuckled down and commit myself. How this came about was our state of relative poverty. I wanted to buy some cute winter hats for the kids, but couldn't afford the ones I wanted. And so I did what any poor mother with cold-headed kids and nimble fingers and a stout heart would do. I went to the library and checked out some books about knitting. (I recommend Knitting School, and the Idiot's Guide to Knitting.) Encouraging Statement: It's really very easy, once you get the hang of it. I knit the winter hats for my kids, but grew hungry for more. I was surrounded by noodly tangles of yarn, my fingers were pickled from constant needlecrafting, I was becoming a real geek. (I also recommend the youtube tutorials of The Knit Witch. Very helpful.)

Anyway, here are some of my hats, knit for my nieces Avery and Parker, and my nephew Sam.

Avery is a touch camera shy. I had to nonchalantly snap this shot from the other side of the room, and then resume pretending to change a diaper.

There is something so delicious about knitted produce.

Who says warmth shouldn't attack your head?

New Year Resolution

2009-02-02T16:07:00.000-08:00

It was a new year's resolution to improve my blogging performance, and so, first off, I'm giving the old girl a face lift. Please be patient while I rearrange and reconstruct. (My blog, not myself.) phew.
Eirene

Obamanomics

2008-12-16T22:24:00.000-08:00

Holy moly. Much has changed in our little world since the last time I posted a bloggy. We originally started doing this so that we could feel like we were keeping folks up-to-date without having to actually keep them up-to-date. However, it has become kind of a "we really oughta update the blog" thing. Which, if you think about it, is pretty much the same as "we really oughta call those guys and see how they're doing." Oh well. As I was saying, much has changed, and not much stays the same from day to day anymore. It's kind of mind blowing. The Sinclair gas station just south of BYU's campus kind of is my barometer of change. I know things aren't yet stabilized each morning when I drive by on my way to work and school and am surprised by the gas prices listed lower than the day before. Some days after reading the New York Times, I come home convinced that the absolute smartest thing for us to do is to buy a house as soon as possible. The next day I come home absolutely convinced that the smartest thing to do is to take my family along with a chicken or two and some cornseed and build a mud hut out in the bush somewhere. Whatta world! Either way, I think we can all agree that we now officially live in a society where no one is expected to live with consequences of their choices and actions. Whether I choose to live in a hurricane prone area, buy a bundle of sub-prime mortgage-backed debt, commit petty crimes, build a substandard product for premium price, supply dictators and warlords with weapons and financing to protect my "interests" only to later topple them to obtain more "interests", or just buying a house that's way bigger than I need, the government and the courts are there to make sure that I have a warm bed to sleep in each night.

IN other news, I have an incredible little family, have you noticed? Tonight, Mae said "I want some pie." Of course, we obliged. She is learning so much every day, it never ceases to amaze me. Her mama is a champ of all champs. She is working so hard making gifts for everyone for Christmas, and she still finds time to teach sewing lessons, fulfill her calling, and taking care of our home. Whatta woman. As for Ike, he now rolls across the floor along with puking, laughing, and pooping. A star.

Merry Christmas all!

Beautiful People

2008-12-10T10:03:00.000-08:00

What I've been doing while not blogging, Part III

2008-12-06T13:39:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving down in Monticello was by far one of the best yet! We all got as sick as dogs with a mysterious illness that spread like peanut butter throughout the entire clan. The initial symptom was nauseating burps that tasted like yeast, and it went downhill from there. (Since of course, you were curious.) But, we didn't let that stop us from eating ourselves silly, playing lots of board games, watching many movies, and taking a wild excursion into the tundra for a Christmas tree. It rained all weekend, and so there was plenty of mud. Ben was excited to have some off-roady Subaru commercial moments, but it turns out that the AWD on the side of our vehicle is just decoration, because our sporty car was the only one that completely stuck. The mud was so heavily encrusted on our wheel axels, that we had to remove the tires and clean them out in order to get our wheels to turn at all. A slightly lesser drama was the fact that at first I hated our tree. I tried to suffer in silence as all of my male relations, (and a few of the cheerful and stalwart females) pushed against my car, up to their knees in mud. But, as it turns out, I love the tree, and so all their labor was not in vain! Here are some highlights from the trip, my favorite of which is the shot of my dad demonstrating to my nephew Rawl what fun it is to sit on a mattress, and that any big boy who goes potty in the toilet can also enjoy the privilege of doing so. Josie somehow was able to bypass all of those stipulations. Hmmm...

What I've been doing while not blogging, Part II

2008-12-06T12:57:00.001-08:00

Yeah, Mae and Ike are still around. Growing like dandelions. They adore each other, as you can see. Or rather Mae adores "Itey" and Ike adores everything, including Mae, but also including dirty socks and plastic bags.

Things I have been doing while not blogging, Part I

2008-12-06T12:11:00.000-08:00

Our first possibly annual Costume Ball of Special Magnificence!!

Imagine... dreamy lights, whimsical jack o' lanterns, fresh flowers, amazing food, swirling fog, costumes, dancing! Butt freezing, frog strangling cold!

2008-09-29T14:49:00.000-07:00

I LIKE IKE

2008-08-28T12:08:00.000-07:00

Well gang, let's talk Ike. He really is a swell little chap. He has Ben's ears. I thought Mae had Ben's ears when she was born, but she doesn't. She has Ben's mom's ears. Here is a diagram to differentiate the two models:

The Ben Ear: (
The Carol Ear: /

(This is a view from the front, if you follow me.)
And an unfortunate genetic trait that my two kids do have in common is their mother's purple-white skin. It looks great on them, though. They pull it off five hundred times as well as I do. Ike has fuzzy white hair, and a little boy face. He smells so unbelievably good. I sniff at him all day. What a world for our little son... I mean, so much shady business going on all the time. His mama, smelling him all the time, his big sister helping to "burp" him on his face, and giving him very sloppy kisses, his daddy, lapsing into fits of loud protest every time he has a bowel movement. Strange. He is bringing us so much dadblasted happiness and joy, and giving us constant cause to wash our bedding. Ah, Ikey. We likey.

He's here!!!

2008-08-24T09:51:00.000-07:00

Benjamin Ike Henderson was born on Thursday the 14th of August at 08:30 weighing in at 7 lbs 14 oz. Healthy as a horse and handsome as...someone really handsome. I'll let Eirene fill in the details, but we're all doing great, and Mae is loving her new baby brother. Enjoy the pics!

Ben

The Big Scabby Apple

2008-07-09T12:14:00.000-07:00

What to say about our recent trip to NYC? The following is our NYC Update At-A-Glance, for those of you strapped for time and energy. (Namely, myself.)

Sights We Saw:
1. Brooklyn
2. Chinatown
3. Central Park
4. Eighth Church of Christ, Scientist
5. Museum of Natural History
6. The Subway System
7. A drunken man
8. New Jersey
9. The Atlantic Ocean
10. Times Square
11. The Angel Moroni on 66th St.
12. Grand Central Station
13. Sbarro

Experiences We Experienced:
1. Being, apparently, the only white people in all of Brooklyn.
2. Wishing we were dead, or in other words, hauling a stroller, a baby, and luggage for two adults and one baby, up and down flight after flight of nasty subway staircases.
3. Figuring out that the reason they keep the lights in the Natural History Museum so low is because of a serious dust problem.
4. Eating dirt in Central Park. (Mae relished in this experience exclusively.)
5. Fishing a cigarette butt out of Mae's mouth in Central Park. (Every mom's worst nightmare
realized.)
6. Undergoing a mysterious resurrection at the beach.
7. Witnessing a drunk man fluent in both English and Sign Language professing his love to a woman doing a cross word puzzle on the bus.
8. The Lion King on Broadway! (Amazing, guys.
Really.)
9. One Rolex watch (fake) $30
10. Pinpointing the stench at Times Square as a combination of raw sewage, garbage seepage, urine, B.O., cigarette smoke, and imitation perfumes.
11. How crying will improve customer service by about 95%.
12. How granola bars get very old when you eat a steady diet of them.
13. How one milk addicted, sleep deprived 13 month old can VERY nearly ruin a vacation.
14. Noticing how the staff of a Jamba Juice is
fairly universal: teenage girls, with the token lurpy, gay boy.
15. Navigating the subway system without getting lost once. (Thank you, thank you)
16. Stepping in every freshly discarded wad of chewing gum from Far Rockaway to 81st St.
17. Noticing how Obama crazed NY is. He is a pop icon. His face is on glittery T-shirts and
handbags. Obama is Hannah Montana, pretty much.
18. Peeing in NY public restrooms about every five minutes... and wishing I was dead.

Lessons We Learned :
1. If you are in a wheelchair, or have a stroller, do not take up a residency in Manhattan.
2. An airplane is the last place you want to be if you are even remotely pregnant.
3. Milk goes bad.
4. Do not EVER travel without photo ID. Unless you aren't particular about catching flights, and don't mind being treated like a criminal.
5. A true friend is one who will volunteer to babysit your child while you spend a romantic and strollerless day in the city. (Thank you Aundi.)
6. It is worth it to take lots of pictures, even if you feel touristy.
7. Never sacrifice comfort for fashion. Never.
8. Cheap diapers are a waste of money.
9. Having a baby on the subway breaks down awkward barriers like magic.

The truth is, we had a marvelous time. But we'll be recovering for the next month, so don't be surprised if we are still NYZ's (New York Zombies.)

The Luck of the Irish

2008-06-22T07:36:00.000-07:00

Have you ever heard that saying, "When it rains, it pours?" Well, its absolutely true. For the most part, that is. I mean, it may not 'pour' but it is usually a fairly good drizzle. If you're thinking actual rain and you live in Utah, well, then its not true at all. Sprinkles are all we see, with pours only lasting a minute or two. But if you're thinking of more intangible things, you'll know what I'm talking about. For instance, I had quite a few Delta SkyMiles saved up from all of the flying I did in South Africa. Eirene very studiously searched, figured, and planned out how we could use them before they expire along with our Economic Stimulus money to take a little trip to New York before our baby boy comes. She ingeniously figured and planned such that our entire trip with food, airfare, some spending money, and even a Broadway matinee of the Lion King for just over $300. Quite impressive, eh? Anyhow, not a full day after she had purchased tickets, some unexpected expenses popped up. A couple parts for the car to make it pass inspection, a few more things needed to get the motorcycle up and running to save on gas. These things all seemed to purposefully wait to show themselves until right after we had committed to spending money on our trip. Not exactly pouring rain, but definitely enough of a drizzle to make you question your decision to leave the jacket at home. My mom always said that we have Irish blood in us. Since I know nothing of our geneology, I just attributed my Irish blood to the amount of Lucky Charms I ate. Either way, if Irish luck is good luck, then Henderson's aren't blessed with it. Experiences like this have made me come to the conclusion that for us, money problems are like the UTA 831 bus that I ride to campus. I'll wait for hours and not see a single one, then four show up all at once as I'm walking away from the bus stop. The good news is, we are fine. We are still going to New York, and we're going to enjoy it! If the car parts happen to add up more quickly than expected, that's why we save.

Ben

My Predjudice

2008-06-08T19:58:00.000-07:00

This morning in between church meetings, I sat in the foyer of our chapel jotting some thoughts in my journal as a conversation between members of the other ward began around me. A Hispanic woman was asking a young man about his service as a National Guardsman in Iraq. An older lady soon joined in by telling about a program she'd seen on television that showed an airplane that was hit by primitive arrows flying over remote parts of Africa. She was astounded that there were still "uncivilized" people living in the world and expressed her opinion that we Americans must have surely been obedient in the pre-existence to receive such blessings here on earth. While I know Bruce R. McConkie may have construed a similar opinion as doctrine, I have personally gained testimony to the contrary. Hearing this conversation further ingrained into me an even deeper desire to serve our country through diplomacy throughout the world. I feel that while gaining increased understanding and appreciation for others, my family will be able to also help friends and family here at home overcome prejudices and misconceptions. Many of these misconceptions seem to be formed when people attribute a doctrinal status to statements of opinion by general authorities in personal writings. Hopefully we can all be willing to give a bit more weight to conference and church publications than we do to books written on the side.

Camera Vs. Wild

2008-05-30T07:25:00.000-07:00

Our darling daughter made a command decision last week. She was tired of hearing her parents complain about the family camera. "The flash is rubbish," "The pictures always come out pixelated," "It turns everything blue..." So, she took matters into her own hands. I found the camera on the bathroom floor. No one knows how it came to be there, and Mae, who has a very limited vocabulary, has not disclosed any details of her uncanny act. But this we know: somehow, she was able to get the camera out of its case, off of a very high shelf, drag it into the bathroom, install a very long crack down the middle of the screen, and arrange the possession of the camera by demons... or water. When you turn the camera on now, the lense, of its own accord, zooms in, and then out, and then in, and then out, about four times, and then closes, and a little message displays on the screen that says "Please turn camera off, and then on again." And if you follow these instructions, you enjoy a repeat performance. And yes, while we indeed hated our camera, it was better than a finger in the eye. And Mae's timing was quit bad, because now we have no visual evidence that she has started to walk, and has had her first camping trip, where she tore open her first birthday presents by campfire light, and then squealed with delight as her pyromaniac cousins Avery and Parker tossed the wrapping paper and ribbon into the flames with vigor. We have no way to express how truly filthy she became over the weekend, stumbling about in the dirt and rocks of the Uinta Mountains, or how happy she was to eat dirt for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I have no visual reminder of how attractive a husband is when he is fishing, or chopping wood, or plugging the daylights out of beer bottles from no trivial distance with a .44, or how excellent he looks with a few days of facial hair. The one relief to all of you, is that there is also no evidence of how truly unburdened I was over the weekend by social customs, such as showering, tooth brushing, leg shaving, or even clothing changing. I really embraced mother nature, out there in the wild, and I'm glad none of you have to see that side of me. It is my one solace for having no camera over Memorial Day weekend.

Maebe, Maebe not

2008-04-23T15:03:00.000-07:00

Lately, I have been a little addicted to sewing, and Mae has reaped all the benefits:

This little number shows off nicely my newly discovered skill of shirring. (Translation, the bunchy elastic stitchery around the waist and sleeves. It adds a bit of boho to anything!) Please note my adorable model's little pigtail. Sure, it looks a little post-nap, but hey, that is a pigtail, friends!These little green pants were supposed to be capris. I guess I over-estimated the length of Mae's legs. And at this point, my model was really starting to lose her patience, and so I indulged her a little, and let her maul the camera. This was ample payment for her sufferings.

Ruffly Amy Butler samari pants never hurt anyone. I think I'll wait until she can walk to put these ones on her. And maybe until she grows three inches taller, too. (Yes, Mae is kissing her reflection passionately in that photo. She's a little Narcissistic, I'm afraid.)

And Mae has two teeth. Count 'em and weep! Plus, she's cute.

And, truly, what blog can be called complete without some spaghetti footage? I didn't make anything in these last three pictures... except for Mae. And the Spaghetti. So... I guess I'm pretty talented and stuff.

bloggy cheerios

2008-04-21T10:09:00.000-07:00

This morning, I felt certain that Mae had been kidnapped. I woke up at 8:30, and immediately, the fear overcame me. The monitor was on, the sun was well up, and I heard nothing. This was frightening, because the wake-up process usually begins around 6:45. I knew it didn't make any sense, because if a bad guy wanted into the house, he would have to break a window, or shoot off the locks with a revolver, and exhausted and pregnant as I am, I couldn't have slept through that. I lay in bed rationalizing, and feeling sick with worry as the minutes ticked away, waiting for a peep-- one of her large variety of wake-up sounds. The peep is nice. It says: "I'm 30% awake, and you have approximately 15 minutes before I stand up in my crib, throw Welby on the floor, and start the squeal." (Welby is Mae's stuffed giraffe. Morbidly matted, grey in color, and named after our stake Patriarch, Welby Ricks.) The squeal is another wake-up sound. It is not as bad as it may sound. It's not a "Eeeeee!" squeal, but more of a "oooOOOooh!" squeal. A sound you might make if truly impressed by someone's fabric selection, or gymnastic skills. The squeal says "I am standing up in my crib, and I have thrown Welby on the floor. I am not out of sorts, but you have about 5 minutes before I start the fuss." The fuss is not my favorite. It says, "I have been awake for about fifteen minutes now, and I know that you can hear me, and are clinging with futility to the last few threads of sleep, but it's over mom. Face it. I'm not going to fall back to sleep. And neither are you. Come and get me, woman." I try not to let it get this far, if I can possibly embrace my fate sooner, and roll out of bed at ungodly hours. That's why this morning was so alarming. To sleep in until 8:30! While it may seem like a blessing, it more likely means that your child has been kidnapped. I lay there, experimenting with the criminal mind, developing quieter strategies for baby snatching. Digging an entrance into the house, but leaving the carpet over the hole, using lasers to remove a section from the wall, sneaking in during the day, and hiding in the cellar until night. This roused me. I threw back the blankets, raised myself up on my elbow, and was rubbing my eyes with an urgency appropriate to the situation, when finally, I heard it-- to my sweeping relief. The peep. I smiled, and stretched, said a prayer of gratitude, and then got into the shower. I'm pleased to announce that I got to Mae before even Welby hit the floor.

mi casa es tu casa

2008-04-17T11:12:00.000-07:00

Finally, I'm getting around to blogging about my new (old) beautiful house. There were so many pictures I wanted to post, but I'm just gonna throw on some of my very favorite parts. We'll start with the living room:

And now, moving onto the master bedroom:
The kitchen:The nursery:
and the front porch:

It's a...

2008-03-31T11:12:00.000-07:00

Well, we weren't going to find out. We woke up the day of the appointment with a firm anti-findyouty conviction. It wasn't until we were sitting in the waiting room that I began to question our decision. Kind of like when you're fasting, without a very specific purpose, and someone offers you some pizza. Ben was rather a devil to my waxing hunger.

Ben: "Let's just do paper-rock-scissors. If you win, we don't find out. If I win, we do."
Me: "Right. I mean, let's just do this the mature way."
Ben: "Best out of five."

Ben won. Rock crushes scissors. But I wasn't willing to accept the defeat. "No, no, no." They called us back. My tummy was house of butterflies. Ben gave me the one-eyebrow-up, what's-it-gonna-be? look. Before I could think, we were in the dark room, I was laying on the bed, the jelly was on my belly. The ultrasounder lady flashed past the privates region, and... "I saw that," I said. "It's a boy!" said the lady. "Oops," I said, looking over at Ben, who was too busy wetting himself to take notice of me, or my crumbled convictions.

That night, Ben pulled out his old trucks and trains and began to polish them with nostalgia in his eyes. I began sewing a pair of slippers for the baby. We're very happy. And as for the broken fast... well... there's always next fast Sunday.

Observations...

2008-03-12T16:07:00.001-07:00

I noticed something today that I think is quite interesting to say the least. My observations of people here on the BYU campus have changed dramatically without my noticing. Its almost as if I've been away on holiday or something and only today returned to find things not the way I left them!
After a particularly good church history lesson, I left the Joseph Smith building and started the trek across campus to my Arabic class. As I walked I seemed to be surrounded by strangers...which, is absolutely normal. But today was different because of how I felt being surrounded by them. On a typical day for me on campus surrounded by strangers, all of the gentlemen seem to have spent more time on their hair than my sisters did in high school. Its usually all I can do to keep myself from pushing them to the ground just to see their reaction at getting dirt on their perfectly placed rustic-authentic-vintage-retro-prewarn (by machine or third world child only, not by actual physical labor by the owner) jeans. Normally the girls all over campus are covered from top to bottom in credit card-sized cell phones, hair extensions, layers of make-up, gargantuan sunglasses with matching hoop earrings, or furry moon boots all in an attempt to look as if they were some sort of unreachable object not in any way human at all. But today things were different. It all began when I was passed on the sidewalk by a new-made-to-look-old cruiser bike ridden by a young man who had clearly spent more time assembling his outfit than I have on homework this entire semester. After he passed, I walked into a different world. The crowd I was surrounded by wasn't the normal herd of brown and orange guys or bridezillas-to-be, they were--for lack of a more unrighteously judgmental term--math majors. Thats right, they were me in junior high school. Awkward and lanky, trying desperately to look cool, but beginning to find confidence in who they are. They are the "Sword and Quill" club occasionally seen prancing about a tent on the quad dressed in medieval attire. They are the pale of skin, the parted of hair, the unsure of step. Their paleness comes not from a cute natural genetic combination (like Eirene's), their's is the result of endless hours in a dark room lit only by a computer screen. They are products of Zelda and 9th grade orchestra. And here's the kicker, I felt perfectly comfortable in their presence. Unlike the discontent and constant mistrust felt during countless days of being surrounded by the vain "danglies" of BYU, I felt as if I didn't have to act or impress these calculus-loving Harry Potter readers. Even in my dirty old work clothes I could walk among them without thinking twice about all of the eyes glancing at my bibs. I could breath easily, walk confidently, if not proudly to my class.
I know what anyone who reads this must be thinking...he's one of them! That would only make sense, right? If I feel so comfortable, than I am obviously among mine own. Well, here is why I think that is wrong. Firstly, just as I want to throw mud on an American Eagle model, I want to hand a shovel to one of the computer science wizards. I would like to distribute calluses equally among both group's creepily soft hands. Secondly, I would effectively kill a conversation about both dungeons and dragons and lacrosse in a matter of seconds. Also, I am every bit as inept at math as I am at being mindful of how presentable I look. I think the real reason I felt comfortable today lies beyond the exterior judgments and stereotypes I've laid out. It has to do with the motivations I felt from these diverse people by the way they presented themselves. From one group I felt an air of downright wicked pride. An attitude of "you don't have and can't have what I have." Not that I am not guilty of putting out that same vibe, because I'm sure I have done or do at times. However, the other groups "vibe" was more of a "yes, I acknowledge you are wearing dirty bibs, but I realize I'm not exactly the prom king either" thing. It was almost as if even though they didn't know how to accept me, they were willing to just because they know through experience what it is like to not be accepted. Further still, they've quit trying to be accepted by others, and focus now on things and people that bring them joy. That felt good.
Again, I've just admitted to unrighteously judging pretty much everyone around me. But that only goes to show, we're all trying to figure this thing out together, and none of us are perfect.

Ben

Carryin' the Banner

2008-01-17T16:28:00.000-08:00

Due to the fact that there are about 408 other things I should be doing right now, I have decided to post on my blog. Sorry to wax newsy, but that's what you get when you rarely update, people.
News, in no particular order of importance:
1. Mae is crawling, and pulling herself up on things.
2. We are moving into a little house of our very own.
3. Ben is crawling, and pulling himself up on things. And studying Arabic.
4. In our new house, we get to paint however we want.
5. I'm expecting another baby!
6. The new house has hard wood floors.
7. Still expectin'. Due August 14.
8. My babies will be 15 months apart!!
9. We got an iPod for Christmas.
10. I may or may not need to be baking between 10 to 30 cupcakes right now.

Fat Geese and Crafternoons

2007-12-04T18:33:00.001-08:00

Christmas is coming. The goose is looking like it could really lose a few. Please to put a penny in the old man's... okay, okay.

Christmas makes me nauseous. In a good way. I mean, Christmas makes me feel like I'm going to throw-up, but from excitement, and not revoltion. It's kind of like falling in love once every year. But the past few days, I've felt kind of slumpy. Yesterday, I had this bizarre chain of thoughts: I love Christmas. I am so excited. I have so much to do. So much to make. What am I going to do when it's all over? I'll have nothing to do. Nothing to make. Nothing to be excited for. What will I live for? What will I look forward to? I hate Christmas. You fall in love, and than your lover leaves you. Every year it's the same. But aside from these few and embarrassing bouts of stupidity and drama, I really love this magical season. Really.

I've been meaning to post these pictures for ages, but haven't gotten around to it. Was too busy watching Pride and Prejudice multiple times. And crafting. Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy. Sorry, what?

Fat Geese and Crafternoons

2007-12-04T18:33:00.000-08:00

I VOTED

2007-11-12T12:23:00.000-08:00

Ah, election season. Warm greetings in your mailbox, a cup of hot cocoa or wassail shared with a friend, rosy cheeked children singing carols of hope in the street. Wait a doggon second! Wrong season, right? Actually no. Not if you elect "write-in" candidate Howard Stone for Provo City Council! Let me share a few favorite selections from his flier. (Please note that the quotation marks and the bolding are "Not" added, but appear in the original document)

Hello, I'm Howard Stone. I'm really no one of "Consequence," but an average citizen just like you... In an act of "Faith" I've made myself available to "Work" for "Our Community"...we are not communicating. I think we feel "Divided and Conquered"...We must make our community a "Refuge" We must not let attitudes of "Apathy" and "Complacency" overwhelm us. I believe "Service" should not be undertaken for fame or notoriety. but as a "Stewardship" not to be taken lightly or "Trifled" with... I'm "Willing" to do this work us all... "Together" we will not "Fail".

End quote. Only one "Thing" could make this "Quote" more "Enjoyable" to... sorry. Only one thing could make this quote more enjoyable to read. Get your fingers involved with the quotation marks. Seriously. Try it. Its hilarious. While investigating which candidate to vote for, I perused Howard Stone's website, I couldn't find a blessed idea the man had concerning Provo, or its future, but I was personally invited to come share a cup of cocoa or wassail with Howard and the wifey. While driving to the elementary school to cast my vote, I passed the man himself under a big canopy, electric heaters blazing, water coolers filled with hot water for your choice of beverage, and a gaggle of little girls singing patriotic songs.

But, I voted for Sherrie Hall Everett. Stone had too much "Fluff" and not enough "Stuff". Advice to City Council hopefuls everywhere: If you want to win, you've got to talk about the issues. And if Flight of the Conchords would run, they'd have my vote.

Death by Crafts II

2007-10-31T05:59:00.000-07:00

Last night, Eirene's creativity pushed me right out of bed. No joke.

Death by Crafts

2007-10-30T13:06:00.000-07:00

Let's be honest: I am a creative genius. Now, before you assume that I could use a slice of humble pie, know this: in a way, this is my my greatest fault (along with working too hard, and caring too much, and cooking too well, and looking too good in red). Don't believe me? Last night, I was up until 12:30 crafting. When I finally exerted self control enough to put myself into bed, I lay awake for who knows how much longer, crafting in my mind. I tried to drive the creative thoughts back, I tried humming my favorite hymn, I tried reciting the Articles of Faith, but the fiery darts of genius would not be blighted. This horrible curse! I forget to eat, forget to drink, forget sometimes, to go to the bathroom. My dishes, my laundry, they hold no urgency. They are only more loathsome than they would be were I not a creative genius. Do not envy me. Indeed, pity me, poor soul that I am. Completely helpless against the slave driver that is my own creativity.

Enough drama. Saturday, the night before Benny's birthday, we went to a Kirkmount concert. This is the same Celtic trio whose reels and jigs accompanied me through high school, and who have been dear to me ever since. So devoted was I to Kirkmount, that I would have married any one of the three brothers, but I had in particular set my cap at the middle boy, the fiddler. Ben foiled that plan by entering the picture before I had gotten my chance to woo this musician, and so I attended the concert with innocent intentions. We arrived late. And unfortunately, the fiddler had grown a beard since his boyhood, and I couldn't resist... examining this alteration to his appearances. Ben leaned over to me during the first song, and this conversation commenced
Ben: "I like watching the harp guy best."
Eirene: "I like to watch the fiddler best. I won't say why..." (a pause.)"You are aware that in high school, I was planning to marry him?" (Ben glares at the fiddler.)

The song ends, and the fiddler stands to give a blurb about Nova Scotia or something, and it becomes immediately apparent, to my horror, and Ben's delight, that he is obviously, and overwhelmingly, gay. To frost the bitter cake, he was wearing a black wife-beater under his white Sunday shirt. Goo.

Ben: "I'm glad you could get some closure on this."

Other than that, I had a toe-tapping good time with my wonderful, kind, handsome, thoughtful, and very straight husband.

Eirene

Late night musings

2007-10-19T21:46:00.000-07:00

In my days (and there have been some 7,750 of them), I have learned a few very wise things. Don't yield at stop signs, even when it's midnight, and there is clearly no other traffic, because there might be a car, one single car, and if there is, it is probably a cop. Also, don't accept jobs at Montessori schools when your stomach feels like you have ingested a bucket of paint thinner, or a Costco sized container of mayonnaise. Also, forest green does not look well with turquoise, no matter how free spirited you are. Most recently, this profundity has entered my canon of wisdom: it is a very foolish thing to eat breakfast cereal in the vicinity of expensive computer hardware. It was Mae who proved this prudent. I was eating my Corn Chex, checking my email, nursing my child, and minding my own business, when Mae, with one of those quick and efficient baby jabs, upset my bowl right onto the keyboard. Milk went everywhere. All between the keys, beneath the mouse, under the printer, down my shirt front, down Mae's cheek, and into her ear. (There were multiple sorts of milk involved in that summary.) In short, the majority of our keyboard was debilitated. (7890-=,uiop[jkl;',./the arrow keys, the enter button, and the space bar, to be specific.) Would you guess that the pendulum of function for our entire lives hung in the hands of a keyboard? A seemingly benign and clickity bit of plastic gone wrong turned the pleasant order of our lives into sheer chaos and down right inconvenience! Our bank accounting and bills were out of our control, certain important emails were inaccessible, we couldn't plan our budget, we were Googless, helpless, hopeless. I have taken the keyboard for granted quite foolishly in the past. Those days are over. As I haunted D.I. for days, hoping to find an emergency replacement keyboard, I became fairly well acquainted with two truths: one, if you are in need of a Halloween costume, D.I. has an endless supply of ugly dresses with shoulder pads in stock right now, and two, the only kind of keyboards they have at D.I. are the kind with the wrong cord and grimy keys. These have their purpose. You can give them to small children to play with, or you can dangle them from your porch to terrify your germ conscious friends and neighbors this Halloween season. But you cannot plug them into an iMac, and return to happiness and normality.

But, due to certain miraculous circumstances, we were able, at last, to buy a new keyboard. The newest and sexiest model of keyboard on the Apple market today. It is flat, (I've made thicker pancakes, I tell you) and metallic, and smooth, and according to a sincere promise from a guy with a lisp at the BYU bookstore who was apparently eager to make the sale, it will be absolutely fine if, perchance, milk were to spill all over it. (I thay, nobody could promith any thuch thing.) It is ironic, I thought, as our debit card passed into our thinthere friend's hands, that Ben and my underwear is grey and decrepit, our pants have holes in the knees, our cabinets are full of ramen noodles, and our vehicles are loitering outside with expired registrations, because we can't afford to do anything about it, and yet, the instant we can't use the computer, we go out and make a weighty purchase to set things right.

In my days, I have learned a few very wise things. And one of them is this: in some cases, dear friends and associates, it is alright to cry over spilled milk.

Eirene

Moab

2007-08-21T19:59:00.001-07:00

The Henderson Family Reunion was quite the trip. This year it was in Moab, a Henderson family stronghold in recent years. Uncle Chuck hosted the shindig at a condominium complex he built. It seems that he owns a good chunk of Moab. The reunion was specially sweet for him, because all four of his children were together with him, something that has not happened for many years. I don't remember seeing his oldest son since I was about seven or eight years old. It did me well to witness old wounds being healed and long forgotten arguments being brushed aside. I also reflected on the differences in Chuck's family and my own. Very similar in makeup, yet different in principle. I am very thankful that my parents raised us with a firm faith that has helped our family cope through the terrible trials we have faced together.

Moab is a beautiful place with infinite places to see and experience. We didn't see many of them at all! We mostly relaxed, swam, and became reacquainted and in some cases just plain ol' acquainted with family. Eirene and I wanted to go to Arches or Canyonlands, but we figured with the Mitchells moving to Monticello, we'll have plenty of opportunity to explore. As it turns out, Monticello is going to be quite the place. It is getting not only the Mitchell Family, but George Wythe College as well. Keep an eye on that place!

Ben

Hey there!

2007-08-21T19:02:00.000-07:00

Wow, so, um, I think the last time this thing was updated was about when Mae first started smiling at us. Now we can't get her to stop! She is definitely a happy girl, and the light of our home. She is sleeping quite well through the night, and Eirene doesn't even wake up when she feeds her! My wife is very talented, and through Mae I have learned that Eirene is even extremely talented while stone cold asleep! As stressful as work may be, and as scared as I am to go back to school in a couple of weeks, these ladies of mine keep me happier than I ever knew I could be.

Ben

Fascinating Changes

2007-06-07T16:48:00.000-07:00

Having a baby is a very interesting, unforgettable thing. The word "interesting" here meaning "involving extreme amounts of pain, blood, sweat, and exhaustion," and the word "unforgettable" here meaning "involving a lovely tiny person who is undeniably perfect and sweet." She is amazing. I love her more and more every instant. Additionally, having a baby is surprisingly romantic! Despite many distractions, Ben and I are falling more in love. We don't have as much time or energy to express it, you see, and so we've gotten very good at these exhausted, contented little visual exchanges that say "Wow, I love you. I can't believe how much I love you. And if I didn't have this sleeping infant on my chest, and weren't too physically exhausted to clamber off this couch, I would come over there and really show you what I'm talking about." Anyway, if you've had children, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. It's very happy business. Mae and I get along swimmingly. I think she really likes me. I, too, would like someone if they carried me around all day and fed me every time I indicated my hunger. We just bond and bond all day. It's our favorite pastime together. And so, in short, everyone is falling into their rolls very well, and we're having lots of fun! (I think I might be having the most fun of all because I get to breastfeed and read books. I'm clear to the seventh book in the Series of Unfortunate Events. Those poor Baudelaire orphans. They suffer so much and I am so blessed. Life is so unfair.)
Eirene

A New Home!!!

2007-06-07T16:14:00.000-07:00

Mae Ella is here!!! Our home is a new, much more exciting, and somewhat more cluttered place!

Mae's birth was an incredible experience for our whole family. The three of us bonded in ways we never knew possible. The births of Mae's two new cousins, Hazel Ann Balling and Josie Scout Tribe, made it all that much more exciting. Josie Scout was born in the delivery room directly above our hospital room. We arranged for the nurses to assign them to a room as close to us as possible, and so they ended up two doors down!

Life at home has been amazing too. Definitely much to adjust to! The new sleep schedule is interesting, to say the least. I've been quite lucky in the diaper department. As you may know, I have a deeply rooted fear of diapers. However, with much dedication and Eirene's loving encouragement, I have changed quite a few thus far. I say I've been lucky because the diapers I have changed have been relatively "low maintenance". Eirene hasn't been so lucky, however, as she has experienced several poo fountains immediately upon removal of the diaper! My luck has changed also, as today I experienced my first. I must say, I think I handled the situation quite well; no sooner had the first new clean diaper been attacked by a steady stream of yellowy brown seeded Maepoo, when I formed a makeshift dam out of wetwipes at the top of her bum as to protect the clean pajamas and babyback from being infiltrated. Once the aftermath of that attack was sufficiently cleaned up, a second clean diaper was soiled upon placement by an even nastier assault. Many, many wet wipes later, the third clean diaper also took heavy fire, but this time it was only your-ine.

Eirene has been amazing throughout the labor, delivery, and life here at home. I don't know how she finds the energy, but we're still tickin'!
BH