Working Girl

I'm ready.

Do you hear me, world? I'M READY!!!!

Some day soon I will be going down to part-time work for my company, and I couldn't be more thrilled about it. I thought it would actually happen before the month of February was over, but it just didn't work out that way. I'll be honest; it upset me last week when I realized that I would still be working full-time into March.

I am amazed by the women who work full-time as mothers AND as something else in addition. That's two full-time jobs to me. I can't work two full-time jobs, especially when Isaac is only interested in sharing my keyboard with me if he's in the office at the same time as I am. Fortunately, we are currently in a position that I don't really need to work full time, and I am incredibly grateful. Many women HAVE to work full time in addition to being moms and don't want to be in that position. Heck, even working full time I've been lucky to be able to work at home! That in itself has been a blessing for our family.

But I'm ready for this darn goal-making-for-the-year process to be over so I can officially go down to part-time and not feel like I'm doing half my best at either editing or being a mom.

Of course, once the part-time thing really does happen, I'm probably going to take the plunge and start teaching piano. I've already got requests. But you never know . . . maybe I'll be a terrible teacher. Or a fantastic one. It could go either way.

But for now . . . really. I'm ready.

-Me

"Work is the curse of the drinking classes." -Oscar Wilde

A Nerdy Kind of Love

I would like to talk about a love story.

There was once a young woman who lived with much sorrow in her life, enough so that her chief desire was glory in death. Her life had been pretty hard; her parents died when she was a small girl and the uncle who had taken her in died before her very eyes in battle (yeah, she was totally disguised as a man so she could fight). But in her efforts to protect him, she was freaking awesome and took out the captain of the enemy with the help of a small friend. She nearly died herself (she got better). But even once she was healed in body she was still unhappy.

There was once a young man who had no doubt that his father's favorite child was his brother. But he grew up still being a wise and noble guy, and men followed him gladly. He faced GREAT temptation and totally won against it like it was nothing. In battle, he was badly wounded, and his father almost tried burning him alive. Yikes! Fortunately, he was saved, again with the help of a small friend. The same hand that healed the woman healed him. Although surrounded by the imminent threat of destruction, he was at peace with himself.

This is when they met.

And that's where Peter Jackson freaking left it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yeah, this post is about fictional people. I admit it: I get riled up about how fictional characters are treated. Okay, I am a fan of the LOTR movies. You don't deliberately buy the extended editions if you're not. (except arwen's freaking breathy voice. seriously. galadriel's an elf and she doesn't talk like that. annoying much?) But no matter how much you enjoy the movie, and no matter how much you may understand the necessity of changing things around and excising/combining people, places, and events in movie adaptations, if you're a fan of any book that's been made into a movie, there are parts you wish had been done better or done at all.

I love Eowyn, and Glen will tell you my deep admiration for Faramir (although you'd have to refer to the book to truly understand how awesome he is, but what peter jackson did to him in Two Towers is another rant entirely). But their story is completely cut out of the theatrical release, and in the extended version . . . Really? We're supposed to buy the Faramir/Eowyn story in THREE LINES??? It's more like, "Hey, we're alone here while everyone else is fighting. Hi, Faramir, would you like to be my rebound since Aragorn rejected me and I went to battle hoping for death?" Uh-uh. That's not what actually happened. And that's what you gave us. The people who have seen the movies without reading the books have no idea how cool their love story in the Houses of Healing is! I mean, sure, it's quick and it doesn't take up that many pages (although even a paragraph is more than he dedicated to arwen in the ENTIRE book!), but it's still cool!

I mean, here you've got Faramir, who has been on the brink of death, who will totally fight for his country but is man enough to say that he doesn't actually like war (which is a bigger deal than it sounds since all these people have ever done is fight; thanks, sauron), who let Frodo freaking go on to Mordor without being tempted by the Ring, who is more than ready to accept his post and prepare Minas Tirith for the return of the true king (something his father sure didn't want to do), and who Eowyn sees is a competent, good leader and totally cool dude. And he just hands his heart to her! From the get-go. AND he isn't afraid to tell her, either.

Plus he's wicked observant. I mean, he has one little chat with Merry and totally knows what's been up with Eowyn and the heartache she's gone through, what with stupid evil Wormtongue and her uncle Theoden becoming a living corpse, and then being rejected by Aragorn, etc. He knows what a dark place she's in, even if she doesn't tell him so. Paging Dr. Faramir! Dr. Faramir to the Houses of Healing, please! And he knows exactly why she admired Aragorm. But he also knows that she's into him, even if she tries to change the subject if he broaches it. AND HE CALLS HER ON IT! (are you getting that i love faramir?)

He lays out exactly why he loves her and tells her, no B.S., no flowery language, just straight-up declaration, and then outright asks her, "Do you love me?" I mean, who in the world today does that? Really? Who has the guts to just come out and say exactly what's going on? Boom. Faramir. Awesome. No stupid dating games for him.

And then Eowyn understands herself! And she's brought out of darkness! No more desire for death! Wahoo! Who did that? FARAMIR. Maybe some people get upset that she's going to give up her warrior ways, but come on . . . what was her ultimate goal in going to fight? I said it above: death and glory. That's what matters to her; you've got to know those aren't the purest intentions of fighting for your country. Even after she was first healed, she said she wanted to still fight and die because THEN she would have peace. What a terrible outlook on her life! When she says she's going to put war and fighting behind her and become a healer and glory in things that grow, it's this awesome turn-around! She has a purpose beyond seeking death! And, oh yeah, this awesome guy who loves her. Who's not afraid to kiss her in public, which is exactly what happens when she oh-so-slyly says she no longer desires to be a queen. I LOVE THIS PART!

Who doesn't want to see that? Apparently, Peter Jackson. Apparently Faramir and Eowyn's love story isn't all that special to him, even if they did awesome things. Apparently he'd rather have multiple scenes of Arwen walking around Rivendell, whining that her dad doesn't like her fiance. Oh, no, your hands are cold, Arwen? That's not dying, girl. That's winter; put on a coat.

You want to put a love story into the movie, Peter? Try putting the one in that Tolkien actually deigned to include IN the book itself rather than relegating it to the appendices (which is where you'll find aragorn and arwen).

I know the movie's ten years old; I know I've probably talked about this to several people. But every time I re-read Lord of the Rings, when I reach this part, I get slightly (if slightly means greatly) annoyed with Peter Jackson. So I implore you, read the book. Read about this awesome love story about two wicked-cool people.

I guess this was actually about two love stories: Faramir and Eowyn, AND my intensely nerdy love for them. I wouldn't get so provoked about their movie counterparts if I didn't love them. Because you want the people you love to get respect. Even if they're not real.

-Me

"It's no wonder that truth is stranger than fiction. Fiction has to make sense." -Mark Twain

Every Day I Write the Book

When I was pregnant, I was recommended all kinds of books and websites and other sources to help me along the way to motherhood and beyond. I'll be honest. I skimmed maybe half of one of the books. (i did refer to babycenter.com plenty thanks to their weekly emails . . . and occasionally still do.) Considering how much I love to read, it's kind of strange I didn't take the excuse to read all of those baby books, but oh well.

Despite my lack of book knowledge about parenting, I think I'm doing all right so far, tumble down the stairs notwithstanding. I still get upset with myself for my short temper (i've never been known for being excessively calm), and I do occasionally wonder if I'm doing things right for Isaac, but overall, I feel good about my motherly skills. He's alive, after all, isn't he?

Our little ninja

I'm not saying anything against the people who do read a bunch of parenting books; it just hasn't been the path I've taken. (again, surprising.) But in the end, no matter what you've turned to for advice or tips or knowledge, you take your own way raising these little people. And hope you don't screw them up too badly. Or that you've put enough into savings for their inevitable therapy.

And then there are the times I think that I have absolutely nothing to do with how he's turning out. I didn't know how long I'd take or what efforts I'd go through to get him on a sleeping schedule, but it fell into place on its own. I attempted a couple of times to give him a sippy cup a few months ago, and while he wasn't too keen on it then, when he started consistently using it last month, I didn't do anything beyond leaving it within reaching distance.

He is sure living up to his name (Isaac meaning "he will laugh"). He will be by himself in his crib sometimes (usually during my attempt to get him to sleep in the afternoon. suddenly afternoon napping isn't cool, mom) and just start giggling. He always laughs when I walk in the room, he laughs while we eat, he laughs at my "oink" noises, he laughs when I tickle him . . . all right, so that last one isn't much of a head-scratcher.

He almost looks like he could be reading, right?

So, whether he is turning out his way is because of me or him or a combination of the two, he's definitely fun to have around.

Latest Isaac news:

• He's getting into stacking things. Especially his wooden rings.
• As of this week, we're basically exclusively on a sippy cup.
• He stood by himself for at least five seconds. New record!
• After being naturally apprehensive about the top of the stairs since last month's "incident", he's turning himself around again to go down backwards.
• He'll let us walk him around and quite often appears to enjoy it!
• New bedtime routine as a result of the move to sippy-cup-only: no more bedtime bottle. After less than a week, he might be getting the hang of it.
• The move from formula to milk is over. No more mixing of the two (he didn't love straight milk at the first offering last month). Wish I could allow myself to drink whole milk. Does he know how good he's got it? 

-Me

"I am always ready to learn although I do not always like being taught." -Winston Churchill

A Children's Story by Me

I've never really considered myself a creative person.

Lest you misunderstand me and think I'm out to disparage myself and my talents, let me clarify: I've never really considered myself a creative person in the sense of actually creating something. I don't write my own music, I don't do anything in the way of visual arts, I'm not terribly experimental in the kitchen, etc. For the most part, this is all right with me. I like my talents that I have developed. (although i have been ignoring those a lot lately, but that's another story entirely.)

However, there was a time in my life where I was actively creating . . . and that's when I was younger and convinced I was going to be an author. I started writing stories in 4th grade and even read these stories to my class. (middle-school Megan NEVER would have done such a thing. how brave i was at the age of 10.) I kept this up for a few years before my ambitions turned to other outlets, but this love of writing has always stuck with me, even if it's died down a lot since I churned out my first masterpiece, The King and Queen are Missing! (yes, complete with exclamation point.)

As stated in my parenthetical above, nowadays I would never dream of being so bold as to share anything I've written with others, but I was going through some old school assignments of mine and came across a children's story I wrote my senior year of high school in creative writing class. It's silly, sure, but I'm still reasonably pleased with the results and thought I'd share. It's been manymanymany years since I wrote it, anyway, and any embarrassment about sharing it is quite minimal.

(One line in particular is very autobiographical and my parents . . . and maybe my siblings? . . . will be able to spot what it is, but you can guess what it might be.)

Without further ado, I present . . . What You Can Find Under the Bed.

The other day I came across a Shrink-o-matic machine.

It had blue and orange polka dots, and the buttons were bright green.

On two of the small knobs, I found instructions there.

One said, "Shrink to the size of a pea," another, "Grow to the size of a bear."

Now, seeing as how I am the curious kind,

I decided to try it out and see if I would mind

Being teeny or being huge, or if I preferred

Being somewhere in between, the size of a chirpy bluebird.

So I pressed the button that said, "Shrink to the size of a pea,"

And waited for an hour, till it was a quarter after three.

Nothing happened still, so I retired to my room

And lay down on my bed, mumbling and grumbling . . . then BOOM!!!

I was no longer the size that I before had been.

I was half an inch tall, instead of my normal 4'10"!

Inching off my pillow, I peeked down to the floor,

Noticing if I fell, then I would be no more.

The distance that I saw was such an astonishing height,

I sat down with a plop and considered my plight.

After much deliberation, I decided to pick up my feet

And slid to the floor riding along my purple bed sheet.

Underneath the bed, something caught my eye.

I walked into the darkness to try and figure out why

The shimmering golden ring looked so darn familiar.

Oh! Now I know why! It slipped off my mom's finger

When she tucked me into bed and kissed me good night

Two days ago, to be exact, 8:30, Tuesday night.

I walked a little further, and what did I see?
A G.I. Joe that belonged to my brother and my little sister's Barbie.

Upon exploring a very deep dark corner,

I found Susie's book of rhymes that included "Little Jack Horner".

There was also a bag of chips that I had consumed

And stuffed under the mattress last week while my dad vacuumed.

An empty plate, a striped sock, and a baby doll's head

Were other little assortments I found under my bed.

But then, I glanced toward the light in my room,

And saw, "Oh, horror of horrors!" a sure sign of doom.

What I had found so far was only just a part

Of the mess under my bed that broke my mother's heart.

Books, toys, crayons, and ribbons were all in my view

And some other items I won't mention that made me cry, "Pee-yew!"

In fact, under my entire bed there wasn't any place

That I could find to try and fill any empty space.

I cursed and cursed that Shrink-o-matic machine,

with its blue and orange polka dots and buttons of bright green,

For it had made me see the destruction under my bed

That made me go absolutely out of my head.

I shot through my room and down the stairs,

And after three hours, I reached the chair

In the living room where I'd left that machine

With the infernal polka dots and buttons of bright green!

I stomped on the button that read, "Grow to the size of a bear,"

And after an hour, I sat in the chair;

Only now I was back to my normal size.

So I cleaned up my room, which turned out to be wise,

Because Mom came home at exactly seven,

And extended my curfew till eight before eleven.

She did this just because I cleaned my room --

Picked up clothes, dusted, and even vacuumed!

And why, you may ask, do I tell you this scene?

Because, if you ever come across a Shrink-o-matic machine

That has two knobs with instructions there

That say, "Shrink to the size of a pea" and "Grow to the size of a bear,"

With the blue and orange polka dots and buttons of bright green,

If you want my advice . . .

DESTROY THE SHRINK-O-MATIC MACHINE!!!

-Megan

One Year Older and Wiser, Too

My baby is one! That is so crazy. Although if you had asked Glen last night, he would have told you that Isaac was only a week old. (this was in a conversation about our taxes in which i wanted to make certain he was claiming isaac as a dependent and he responded, "no, isaac was born january 15, 2014." really? i don't recall giving birth last week! i had a good chortle at his expense.)

Yep, following in his mother's footsteps and having mac and cheese for birthday dinner.

 The extent of my creativity.

Anyway, Isaac's birthday was a pretty quiet affair; just us. Yes, yes, how terrible of me not to throw a huge blow-out party for a one-year-old! Isaac, like at Christmas, didn't know what was going on, anyway, so I'm not too torn up about it. His presents for his birthday weren't nearly as fun as at Christmas, since a month ago he got a bunch of toys, whereas last week he got clothes. Clothes are never as fun to get, are they?

 He kept his make-shift party hat on for about a second.

On a related note, sometimes it's difficult for both Glen and I to be musical, because we both automatically jump to harmony when we sing together and nobody's left on the melody. Oops! (sound familiar, kelly? mom?) Jensen tradition dictates that we sing "Happy Birthday" to someone in a notoriously bad fashion, but Glen and I figured maybe our kids should grow up at least knowing what the tune sounds like before we mangle it for each other.

Okay, so Isaac didn't know why we were singing at him, but that doesn't mean he didn't enjoy the cake. Because he sure did. By the end of eating, he was a sticky green-fingered monster. But what a cute one!

I love the shot of both of them stuffing their faces.

Please, Mom, I want some more.

A couple days before Isaac's birthday, he had his first major catastrophe -- he fell down the stairs! GAH! We'd taught him how to turn himself around at the top of the stairs in order to go down backwards, which he was getting the hang of quite well, but he didn't get himself completely turned around this time before gravity took effect and I wasn't there in time to catch him. Not. Cool. Mom. So dooooooooown he went, and he was justly upset at me, but I was mainly relieved that he didn't sustain any serious injuries. Lucky. Mom. He's willing to go near the stairs (and still very happily and rapidly climbs them), but he's unsurprisingly reluctant to turn himself around without a little encouragement and reassurance that I'm right there. At least he's back to a point where he will go down once I've helped him turn. But yeesh! I'm very lucky I didn't break my child.

"Building" with Daddy

He'd still rather play with anything but his own toys, as evidenced by the fact that it's increasingly hard for me to work with him constantly wanting to get in on my computer keyboard action. He does enjoy his various blocks and wooden rings because of the good clacking noise they make. He's gotten the hang of his sippy cup the last couple of weeks, which is neat because I really didn't know when he'd willingly use it. And just the last couple of days, he's taken to crawling around on his hands and feet (yep, feet. not knees), which is pretty hilarious to watch. He'll occasionally stop and look between his legs to look behind, which is naturally adorable. But he never crawls anywhere without the intention of pulling himself up to his feet if he can. He is a good little cruiser.

This is his favorite spot to cruise to when I'm trying to work.

How can you resist that smile?

He's also into licking his papa's nose and demolition.

-Meg

"All the world is birthday cake, so take a piece, but not too much." -George Harrison

Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold

It's kind of funny that I now get excited about making trips to Provo, but what can you do? I'm a "small town girl" these days. Well, kind of. A couple weekends ago, we decided to make the trek to see family and visit Costco (and Winco. and do "super secret" birthday shopping for isaac).

The drive was pretty standard (passed a LOT of ice fishers), but as we passed Heber and made our way through Midway and Provo canyon, we came upon some pretty intense mist that was spread out across the reservoir. I really don't think I'd ever seen anything like it, and for the most part, we were not enshrouded in it (at most for about five seconds), but it looked so cool. Totally got me in the mood to sing about the Misty Mountains with dwarves.

Cute little fella out to lunch

When we first arrived in Provo, I texted my pal Kathryn to ask if we could stop by some time during the day, and when she texted me back, lo and behold! there was a party going on! Our friend Heather was being thrown a baby shower as we spoke (well, if texting = speaking), and I was welcome to stop by. So after about fifteen minutes of hanging out at Glen's sister's, we hopped back in the car! Totally great timing on our part, because then I got to see several of my Provo friends in one fell swoop! I love those ladies.

A couple of Glen's candid shots of us; having a good time getting in place.

 There's a good group shot!

After a nummy-yummy trip to Zupa's for lunch (lobster bisque!), we visited Grandma Merrell with Bethany before I left everyone behind to shop. Oh, Winco, how I miss you. And doesn't everybody know it? Costco was our last visit before heading back out. It was a very full day, but pretty good. I shall return.

-Meg

"It isn't the mountain ahead that wears you out; it's the grain of sand in your shoe." -Robert W. Service

Christmas Bells are Ringing

Seeing as how Christmas was exactly a month ago, maybe it's not worth documenting, but here goes.

This year was a first for us Merrells, as we didn't travel anywhere for the holiday. It was kind of strange to not make travel plans, but at the same time I was thinking, "What a relief!" As much as I love seeing family, winter travel can be stressful. Anyway, we just stayed put here in Roosevelt and had a quiet family celebration.

 Isaac gets to put up his first ornament (with some help).

 There's just one more sleep 'til Christmas!

Isaac was sure fascinated by the Christmas tree, as we knew he would be. He just couldn't understand why we kept dragging him away from it every time he wanted to play with the needles or the lights. (we were wise enough to not set out presents or put ornaments too low on the tree. he couldn't resist the lights, though.) Carols, cookies, presents, etc., didn't really catch his attention too much, but he did like the tree.

Opening up his Christmas Eve gift, and look! It's pajamas! What a HUGE surprise!

Looks like Santa showed up.

In addition to delivering cookies to neighbors on Christmas Eve, we were invited to Christmas dinner by one of Glen's co-workers. They were also going to have reduced family numbers, so we were their proxy children/grandchild. We had a good time there, watching Isaac discover other people's toys and be just charming to everybody (except when we attempted to make him nap; he didn't appreciate it).

Look at that cute stocking that Ganny made for him.

 As expected, he's more interested in the wrapping paper.

We're joining the 21st century and got a blu-ray player.

 Isaac just may like those monster bowling pins Grandma Merrell sent him.

As strange as it was to not be with our family in Oregon or Missouri, it was pretty nice to have a first Christmas on our own. Sure, Isaac doesn't really know what's going on, but as we sat together on Christmas Eve, reading Luke 2 and singing "Silent Night" by the glow of the tree lights, it was a peaceful time together as we reflected on why we celebrate this time of year.

-Meg

"The Supreme Court has ruled that they cannot have a nativity scene in Washington, D.C. This wasn't for any religious reasons. They couldn't find three wise men and a virgin." -Jay Leno