Jackson's Inventiveness

Jackson has a unique, creative, fresh view of the world and he expresses it in fun ways with his limited vocabulary and understanding of grammar. For instance, he has recently started making words plural even if they are already plural. When he wants mommy to sing him to sleep he calls out; "I want songses."

Pictured is Jackson's latest creation: "I made a taxi."

And my favorite is when he wanted more Parmesan Cheese on his spaghetti: "I want more cheese waterfall."

Ian

Peek-a-boo

Children go through phases of learning and one of them, I've heard, involves the understanding that when an object can't be seen, it's not necessarily gone. Hence the game of peek-a-boo helps kids learn object permanence; that when he covers his eyes, the playmate within eyesight did not disappear, but the vision was blocked by the hands.

A few weeks ago Jackson and I went to a pool party and I was diving and flipping into the water. Each time I would swim immediately for the surface and look to Jackson to see if he was impressed by my gymnastics move. However, Jackson's reaction was not what I expected. He would cry every time I jumped in the water. Apparently, Jackson didn't like seeing his daddy disappear under the water.

A couple weeks ago I went bungee jumping with some friends at the Bridge to Nowhere (bungeeamerica.com). Last week in Atlanta, I was showing my family the video we shot. Jackson was enjoying the video until I dove off the bridge toward the water 150' below. Suddenly, Jackson burst into tears event though I was right next to him and holding him. Apparently, Jackson doesn't like his daddy doing stunts.

I'm glad my boy doesn't want his daddy to disappear or fall off bridges. But I'm going to wait a few more years before showing Jackson my stunt reel.

Ian

Canadian-American

Today I passed the U.S. Citizenship test and was approved to become an American. If you didn't know, I was born in Toronto. I've always considered myself a North American. Canada is part of America, right? So after my TBD future swearing in ceremony, I will officially become a Canadian-American. Oh, I also have my Irish passport, so that will make me an Canadian-Irish-American.

However, part of the Oath of Citizenship that I will take contains these words; "I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen." In the words of the DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution) Manual for Citizenship; "If you take this oath in true faith you are a true citizen of the United States of America. You are not an Italian-American. You are not a Spanish-American. You are not a German-American, nor any other kind of a hyphenated American. YOU ARE AN AMERICAN. There is no prouder title than 'Citizen of the United States of America.' It is now yours. YOU ARE AN AMERICAN."

Going through the naturalization process reminded me why this country is the best country in the world. As President George W. Bush says in the welcome video, "America has never been united by blood or birth or soil. We are bound by ideals that move us beyond our backgrounds, lift us above our interests and teach us what it means to be citizens. Every child must be taught these principles. Every citizen must uphold them. And every immigrant, by embracing these ideals, makes our country more, not less, American."

I'm almost there...a true American. I look forward to my increased privileges and duties. But, I'll always have fond feelings for Canada and Ireland.

Ian

Outed at 28 weeks

Among the things I had heard about second pregnancies was the idea that I should get bigger faster than the first. I was fully expecting to be huge really early, but it didn't really happen. For the first few months I was pretty much on the same weight gain curve that I was with Jackson. That meant I didn't really start showing until about the fifth month of pregnancy. People who knew could tell that I was showing, but there were certainly plenty of people who I didn't know well enough to include in my news-breaking circle. I'd catch these folks stealing furtive glances at my belly and then avoiding eye contact because they didn't want to have to ask if I was pregnant and be caught in an embarrassing error. But I can say that it was at 28 weeks when I grew to a size to be clearly pregnant.

See, I meet with a group of 6 other faculty members every other week. We've been meeting since September, as part of a Medical Education Fellowship. In the beginning, I didn't tell them that I was pregnant mainly because I didn't feel like we ever had an appropriate moment to announce something like that without sounding self-aggrandizing. And then at about the point that a room full of doctors should have recognized that certain anatomical changes were taking place, I decided to just see how long it took them to notice. Finally, at 28 weeks of pregnancy, when I clearly no longer fit into normal clothes, and strangers would walk up to me and rub my belly, one of my colleagues smiled broadly at me in class and asked when I was due. It was kind of funny to hear the other two women exclaim, "I thought it might look like you were pregnant, but I didn't want to say anything." And even funnier to hear the one guy (whose wife just delivered their first baby) say, "Oh. I really don't know how I didn't notice".

Altogether, it's been an interesting sociocultural experience to see how people respond to my growing belly. By the way, I am now growing bigger faster than I did with Jackson. I think my last two weeks of weight gain put me a few weeks from where I was when I delivered Jackson. I can't believe I still have 9 more weeks to grow. When this one comes, I'm going to look like a python after swallowing a small animal.


Clarice

My Grandma

My grandma celebrated her 95th birthday in February. She's quite an amazing woman with fascinating stories. She was born in China, and chose to leave her Buddhist traditions to follow Jesus as a youngster despite the vehement disapproval of her family. She fled to Hong Kong when the Communists came, just a few days after delivering her first child, my father. She worked as a teacher (Bruce Lee was one of her students) and elementary school principal when few women held full-time jobs. She sent all four sons to the US to study, then uprooted herself at the age of 59 when my grandfather decided to join the sons (and the first grandson) in the US. She learned English, learned how to navigate public transportation in Los Angeles, then in New York. But what's really remarkable is her selflessness. She always thinks of others, to the point where it's almost annoying. She has endeared herself to her 7 grandchildren with her good humor. Here's a picture of her 10 years ago (at 85), good-naturedly letting her two grandsons play dress up with her.


I admire her longevity, clear-mindedness, humility, and good humor. But last week, I was caught entirely by surprise by her adaptability. My aunt told me that she was learning to use email (at 95!). So I sent her an email to see what would happen. Here's her reply to my invitation to a Mother's Day dinner.


Of course, I can only read my name, a few words like "you" and "I" and "thank you", but I'll probably email her again just for the novelty of receiving an email from my grandma. Ain't she something?

Clarice

Look who's learning to use the potty

Ian's latest job

Remember this show from the 70's?



And remember these guys?



This is the modern day update as reported by USA Today.


Yep, that's Ian's work outfit. I wonder what casual Fridays will look like.

Clarice

Come down and play

We recently moved Jackson to a "big boy bed". We thought it would be wise to make the crib available for Bright Flower significantly in advance of when she needed it so that Jackson wouldn't have issues about his sister invading his space. We actually set it up the bed about two weeks in advance of when we intended to start using it. We wanted him to get used to seeing it in his room. Plus, it gave us two weeks to talk up how since he had his happy birthday he was now a "big boy" and should have a big boy bed. It turns out we didn't need to talk it up. He was dying to sleep in his new bed (somehow he knew it was for him the day we set it up).


Moving him to a "big boy" bed (with no restraints to getting out independently) meant some changes in our nighttime routine. We used to sit on the floor with him in one of our laps after his bath and pajama change and read him a book. Then we would have him turn on the hall light and turn off his room light and we would hold him for his nighttime prayers before putting him in his crib. The new bed changed all that. We realized that he needed some time in his bed before turning the lights out. So now, after changing into pajamas, we turn on a dim bedside light, have him climb into his bed himself and read him his bedtime story while he sits in his bed. It was Ian's idea to have him then kneel on the side of his bed for nighttime prayers before turning off the lights and tucking him back into bed. As soon as the lights are out, we remind him of the "sleeping rules" - stay in your bed, close your eyes, be quiet, and go to sleep. We especially remind him of the need to stay in his bed. When we first switched to the toddler bed, we had decided on a three strikes and you're out policy. If he comes out, we quickly return him to his bed. But if he comes out a third time, he goes back to his "baby" bed. We've only had to return him to his crib twice. Now he gets the idea after one warning.

So we were so surprised a few days ago when, after reading his book, he pointed to the floor and said "come down and play". He was actually bold enough to start moving to the side of the bed before we reminded him of the sleeping rules. The next night, he tried again, "come down and play, daddy, come down and play, mommy". Again, we sternly reminded him of the sleeping rules and kept to our routine. It happened again last night. This time Ian was only half-way through his bedtime book when Jackson closed it and said "All done. Come down and play." He pointed to the floor and started moving to the side of the bed. We reminded him that he was supposed to stay in his bed and he said, "I wanna play. Play." Then he put his hands together and said "Dear Got." We finally realized that he wasn't asking to come down and play. He was asking to come down and pray. Warmed the cockles of our hearts. Now we just have to hope that Jackson grows out of his Chinese accent before he hits public school.

Clarice

Oh Jesus!

A couple of months ago, Jackson and I were driving home and I heard him exclaim, "Oh Jesus!" I wasn't sure what he was trying to communicate. He said it so explosively I was kind of wondering if he had heard someone else using the Lord's name in vain and was just copying them. I asked him why he said "Oh Jesus," but he really didn't have a cogent explanation for me.

Then a few days later, we were driving home again and I heard him shout it again. "Oh! Jesus! Jesus!" This time I looked back to see him gazing out the window and pointing. I personally didn't see any hint of Jesus, but I remembered hearing that little children sometimes had a heightened spiritual awareness. I started wondering if my boy had been seeing visions of the risen Christ that I was missing out on because of my jaded sensibilities. That led to dreaming of what kind of prophetic gifts Jackson might have that would impact the world. So I thought I would be like Mary, mother of Jesus, and "treasure up all these things and ponder them in my heart." When we got home, I told Ian what had happened, that twice we had been driving and Jackson shouted out "Oh Jesus!" He had a bemused look on his face and said that it had happened when he was driving with Jackson also. Then he asked me if it occurred on San Vicente just past Wilshire. Why, yes, that's exactly where we were both times it occurred. Hmm, we both wondered.

A few days later, I came home after Ian had picked up Jackson. He had a huge grin on his face. He told me that he had figured out why Jackson had been shouting out about Jesus. It turns out there is a statue on the side of the street that neither of us had noticed. And to be quite honest, the statue looks quite a bit like the Jesus we see in the Bible picture books that we have been reading to Jackson at night.


Apparently, even a green man with a beard and longish hair can pass for Jesus in toddler world.

Clarice

New Haircut

Jackson's hair has been really, really slow to grow. He didn't have his first haircut until he was 14 months old. And that was just two little snips of the bilateral locks that were making him look a little bit like a Hassidic Jew (except for the part where he doesn't look Jewish at all). The next two haircuts were spaced 5 months apart and only took place because the hair on the back of his head would be nappy and tangled in the morning when he woke up. So for the past month, we'd been contemplating doing the Chinese thing. In China, they crop the hair of the little kiddies (even the little girls) so that they're cooler in the summer, but also to stimulate new hair growth. And some midwesterners we know follow the Farmer's Almanac to determine periods of time when haircuts will also accelerate new hair growth (hey there, Bob and Lis!!).

It turned out to be an easy haircut. We just got out the clippers, put in the number 3 guard and buzzed away. Of course, I did the pediatric dentist "tell-show-do" thing. I told him about the clippers. I showed him how tickly it was on his arm. And then I did it. And of course, we planned other distractions. He was sitting on his potty chair in front of a mirror, set up with his favorite book set (from great-Aunt Linda, thank you!!). He still cried most of the time I was cutting. It's all documented on miniDV, courtesy of his documentarian daddy. But when I was all done, he agreed with me that he looked very "han-sum".

Nesting

I had heard about nesting when I was pregnant with Jackson. One website I visited defines it as "an uncontrollable urge to clean one's house brought on by a desire to prepare a nest for the new baby, to tie up loose ends of old projects and to organize your world". I don't recall experiencing that at all when I was pregnant with Jackson. But then again, I was focusing on tying up loose ends at work so that I could be home for 3 months.

But Monday, the nesting instinct hit hard. I had brought home lots of work to do once Jackson fell asleep, since Ian was working that night. I had grades to enter for last quarter, a new quarter to plan for, a homework assignment for a class I'm taking. But none of that mattered that night. We had bought a new "big boy bed" for Jackson and I was bound and determined to rearrange his room to accommodate the new bed. As soon as we got home, I spent an hour sweeping and dusting his room. Then I threw together a not-too-nutritious but quick meal for us, bathed him, and tried to get him to join me in rearranging his furniture (not too successful). I was so determined to finish the task that night that I kept working after his lights out, using the dim glow of the hallway light to illuminate my work. He managed to fall asleep an hour later than normal as I worked around him. And finally, after four hours of toil, I was satisfied.

It was a rather alarming feeling. I really couldn't think of anything else but finishing up his room. Nothing could deter me...not dinner or even his bedtime. Whatever I've read about nesting indicates that it's an instinct. And, wow, what a powerful one. At least by Tuesday, I finally felt ready to return to my required work....although I never finished that homework assignment.

Anyone else have any crazy nesting stories?

Clarice

Boogers

We are realizing that we can track Jackson's developmental milestones (and social awareness) through his response to boogers.

For his first year and a half of life, he was pretty clueless about the presence of nasal emissions of any sort. Case in point, this video clip from when he was 17 months old:



Then around 20 months of age, he suddenly became aware of his boogers...especially the runnier variety. If he sneezed out an abundance of snot, he would cry. But he wouldn't do anything about it. Well, that's not true. Occasionally, he'd unintentionally smear it all over his hands and face. Or he would burrow into our shoulders, leaving some interesting remnants on our clothing (the mark of parenthood...at least it's not spitup any more).

Then around the 22 month mark, he started showing some initiative at taking care of snot, at least. If he sneezed, he would say "Iwan kleenex. Iwan tissue. Iwan blow de nose." And we'd know to help him wipe off the offending fluid.

Now at 25 months, he's officially entered into familiar toddler realm. He can clearly discern between the wet stuff and the dry stuff. The other day, as we were driving, I noticed a prolonged break in his normal commentary about the same sights we see every day on the way home. He was clearly concentrating on something. Then he piped up from his carseat in back, "Mommy, look! A booger!" He held out his finger for me to see (you wouldn't believe how large some of these things can get, coming from such small individuals). I asked him if he needed a tissue and started scrounging around the car for a scrap of paper while trying to navigate the streets of Beverly Hills. Then I heard his triumphal declaration, "I eat it!!" Sure enough, his finger was clean as a whistle. Well, I guess that's better than having it inadvertently wiped on me.

Clarice

Easter in the Holy Land

I recently got hired on a movie that was shooting in Jordan. That's right, the middle east. When I realized I was going to be away from home for Easter, my initial thought was "how inconvenient."

That's until I realized that Jordan is home to many locations in the Holy Land. The Israelites traveled from Egypt to the Promised Land through Jordan. Jesus was baptized in Jordan.

Suddenly, the reality of spending Easter in the Holy Land hit me. How cool is that?! And even better, there were a handful of Christ-followers on the crew and "lo and behold"an ancient Olive grove just below our hotel in Petra.

So, five of us had an awesome church experience reading through the four Gospel accounts of Easter and marveling at God's work throughout history. Where two or more are gathered in His Name, God the Holy Spirit is there with us. It was a really awesome experience.

God is good. All the time. He is risen indeed!
Ian

P.S. Check back soon for a picture of us in the Olive grove.

He's Risen Indeed!

It's Easter today. Well, actually, it's almost over, but I still want to commemorate the event. I blogged a few weeks ago about how I usually like to try to prepare my heart and mind to celebrate Easter because I think it's such a significant event. To be quite honest, I ended giving up on my fast. It wasn't realistic because it actually put a burden on Ian for me to keep an 11:00 PM bedtime. I think next year I'll have to pick something more realistic that will come with more consistent reminders of the meaning of sacrifice (but we're going to try for an 11:00 PM bedtime anyway just as a good habit). At any rate, I had a hard time focusing on the arrival of Easter this year. Maybe it was because it came earlier in the year than it usually does or maybe it was because Ian and I have been alternating being either really busy or really sick.

So Good Friday came and went and I didn't really think much about it. But on Saturday afternoon I read a post by my dear friend Faetryn and remembered beyond Easter. Her post reminded me that on that fateful Friday, there was pain and suffering. I had been thinking a bit about the brutality of the punishments of those days. See, Ian is working on a movie that involves the stoning of an individual. He'd been telling me about the emotional impact and the brutality of just pretending or making it seem like the punishment is real for the sake of a movie. And the reality of Christ's suffering started to sink in.

Thus I went to church this morning for Easter Sunday thinking about the reality of Jesus' pain and suffering on our behalf. But our site pastor, Goodie, spoke on "Beauty." I missed the complete content of the message because there wasn't child care for the service I attended and Jackson isn't so good at sitting still or keeping quiet, keeping me on my toes the entire message. But I saw the video I've posted below (because Jackson loves "TV" and watched as intently as I did). The piece was accompanied by a live string ensemble and followed by a live dance piece. And it spoke to me, as it has every time I've seen it. It reminded me of the love that Jesus' sacrifice demonstrated and the beauty it embodied. I guess that's why I'm not so into the crucifixes that have Jesus hanging on them. I much prefer the simple cross adornment. Because, sure, Jesus suffered and died to pay the penalty for humankind's penchant for making the destructive choices that separate us from a perfect and holy God. But He didn't stay dead, so I don't want to just focus on that. He rose to life on the third day, demonstrating His power over sin AND death, offering us the opportunity to reconcile with Him...and to live beautiful lives.

He is risen indeed!



Clarice

A really, really good day

February and most of March were really, really hard. For some reason, our budget broke down and we had to tap deeply into our emergency savings fund. I had a ton of work deadlines that came with some seriously high expectations. The workload was bad enough that I dragged my computer along with me on our anniversary trip. I spent most of the drive and the first few hours in the hotel working on one of my projects so that we could enjoy the rest of our weekend without interruption. And for whatever reason during that busy period, Ian had activities several nights a week that left me alone with Jackson's night-time routine (and, of course, no time to work). Then when my deadlines were mostly met, Ian got super busy. He went into pre-production on two different short films, one of which took him out of town the day after I came down with a wicked illness that took me out of work for a few days due to fever, chills, body aches. Being alone with Jackson for two days meant I gave him whatever I had, which was multiplied to four days of fever, restless nights, loss of appetite, and diarrhea. In the midst of all that, Ian started to think that a big job that was supposed to come through in April wasn't going to happen AND he got called to go to Jordan (as in the Middle East) with two days notice for a really great work opportunity (that would keep him there for two and a half weeks).

So here I was a couple of Mondays ago, pregnant (with occasional lingering bouts of nausea), sleep-deprived from pushing toward work-deadlines, post-flu, caring for a mid-flu toddler (who can't go to daycare), thinking about sending my husband away for two and a half weeks. I was thinking that it was a really, really bad time of life. And I prayed for some type of divine intervention. Then Tuesday morning came. I had taken Jackson to class with me since he still had a fever and couldn't go to daycare. He was sitting there talking REALLY loudly while my students were trying to make their end of the quarter final presentations. Ian walked in to pick up Jackson. He had a big grin on his face. He told me that his two and a half week trip to Jordan had been postponed for a week (and shortened) and that the job he thought he had lost was now confirmed to start after he was scheduled to return from Jordan. Suddenly, I was thinking that it was a really, really good day. A little grace - a job that will probably pay quite well for Ian (with what sounds like a reasonable schedule). A little mercy - the postponement and shortening of his out of town gig. Amazing what the two combined can do to your spirit. Oh, and then that evening I got an email from a colleague praising one of the projects I had been working on. Grace upon grace.

Things have still been quite hectic. But all I needed was one day with a little grace and a little mercy just to change my perspective on things. And so the days since then haven't necessarily been really, really good, but they sure haven't felt as bad as I might have thought without a reminder that God is gracious and merciful and certainly willing to intervene.

Clarice

Exposure (and link madness)

Last week I was browsing one of my favorite websites, Townhall.com, on one of my daily visits to stimulate my thinking. If you're not familiar, this site features some of the smartest minds and sharpest writers on politics and culture. I usually don't pay much attention to the ads, but something familiar caught my eye. It was the ad to the left. I was tickled to see it. Here I am at one of my favorite websites - one that has national readership (my sister-in-law in Atlanta is a regular visitor also) - and this ad pops up. It's a DVD featuring 3 different short films made by my church. Each has a commentary by my pastor, Erwin McManus. One short film was directed a friend I used to be in small group with, who filmed the video showed at our wedding. Click here. One short film was produced by my old roommate, who was my maid of honor at our wedding. Click here. And the third was produced by my husband. Click here and here.

National exposure! Yeah!! Check it out!

Clarice

Lenten Letdown

I really didn't grow up with a whole lot of religious ceremonies (sacraments?). The church I grew up in pretty much stuck only to baptism and the Lord's Supper or communion as significant sacraments. In early 2001 I started living in an amazing community with 3 other women (an experience I keep meaning to blog about). One or two of these women grew up (or perhaps adopted in adulthood) observing some type of fast over the Lenten period between Mardi Gras/Ash Wednesday and Easter. I don't remember paying much attention to the fast the first year. Like I said, I didn't grow up with an emphasis on religious traditions. But they approached it in such a low key and earnest way. By year two or three, I think all 4 of us usually made commitments to fast from something. It just seemed like a great idea. I love Easter. Christmas is special, but it often gets buried in the trappings of commercialism. I mean, it is an amazing holiday - the celebration of the fact that the Creator of the universe left the glory of heaven, came to earth in the form of an infant, and tolerated life on this earth as a human for 33 years. That's pretty amazing. But Easter really gets me. For Jesus to willingly endure the pain and suffering and shame of crucifixion out of a love for mankind...that's really something. And then to demonstrate the authority to reconcile man's broken relationship with God through death by rising to life on the third day...whew!

As long as I have been calling myself a follower of Jesus, I've been trying to prepare myself to earnestly and reverentially remember Easter. And so the idea inspired by my roommates to fast for 40 days to prepare for Easter was appealing. What better way of trying to remind myself of Jesus' sacrifice than giving up something my body or mind craves. I mean, it wasn't ever so dramatic as giving up food and water or...life. It was usually much simpler. I can't remember exactly what I've given up over the years, but I think once it was alcohol (that was pretty easy), once it was all caffeine products AND soda (that was much harder), another time it was gossip or criticism (very hard), another time it was giving up reading any type of blogs (can you tell what I crave sometimes?). It was always hardest in the beginning, but very beneficial in reminding me that I wanted to spend some time focusing on Jesus. But by the end of the fasting period, I felt like I not only had a chance to focus on sacrifice, but I had a better control on my cravings.

So this year, after a brief break from celebrating Lent, I decided to reinstate my 40 day fast. I chose a very unconventional fast. I gave up late nights. Meaning, I committed to being in bed by 11:00 PM. Perhaps it seems like an easy thing to many people, but I am a SERIOUS night owl. If I had my druthers, the work day would be 10 AM to 6 PM and I would sleep from 1 or 2 AM to 8 or 9 AM. My mind is just sharpest around 10 PM (with an earlier burst of productivity at the end of the workday from 4-6 PM). So being in bed by 11 PM is quite a challenge, even with a kid who wakes up bright and cheery at 7 AM. And let me tell you, it's been the worst fast I've ever tried to commit to. In the 4 weeks since Ash Wednesday, I've only made my goal around 5 times. Honestly, I just gave up the past week. I'm kinda all of all-or-nothing. If I can't nail close to 100%, why bother.

But I'm thinking of starting all over again. I've realized that the failure to stick to this fast reveals something about myself. I'm just not willing to make the lifestyle changes to adopt an early bedtime. My body and mind crave the college student schedule, but really, my family and my work commitments (and the daycare schedule) demand that I give it up. And it's not like I'm up late being productive. Here it is T minus 38 minutes and I still have a bit of work I should do, plus fold the two loads of laundry that my husband graciously started before I got home from work, plus get ready for bed, plus try to spend a bit of time focusing on some Scripture... Ain't going to happen. I'd rather blog or read blogs or do something really non-urgent like try to figure out what to name our next kid or decide on what video clip I should post to YouTube. These things just don't have to be done now.

So I think I'm going to start again. Maybe tomorrow, exactly 4 weeks after Ash Wednesday. Or maybe the next day. I guess I have to check with Ian, since this impacts him. At any rate, I know without a doubt that I need to make some sacrifices in the way I would prefer to spend my time to prioritize the people and the One I should be most committed to.

Clarice

Jackson's First Sporting Event

Ian got some free tickets to a Clipper game last Wednesday. I had never been to a professional basketball game (nor football, nor hockey, although I've seen professional soccer and baseball - Angels, Dodgers, AND Red Sox). We thought it might be a fun thing to try for the first time. We tried to think of some babysitting options for Jackson, but then it was Monday and we hadn't planned anything yet. So we figured, hey, kids under the age of 3 are free; we should just bring him (note the use of the now-obscure semi-colon). So we got to the Staples Center a bit early and before ascending to our seats in the nosebleed section, we bought some huge hot dogs to eat for dinner (don't tell my OB/GYN I consumed nitrates). Jackson loves hot dogs ("I like hot doggies").

It turned out that Jackson had the most fun of the three of us. For the first half of the first quarter (would that be the first eighth?) he couldn't even pay attention to his beloved hot dog. He was having such a fun time cheering when the other fans would cheer and clapping along to the incessant music that was playing (thankfully not on the organ the whole time). We don't think he had any clue about what was going on miles away down on the court, but he sure sensed the excitement in the arena. Once he had enough of the music and the cheering, he started watching the two boys seated behind us. They looked to be about 8 or 9. Jackson kept on waving to them and saying "Hi, little boys". He started copying what they were doing. Fortunately, he had finished his hot dog by this time.

Then for the second quarter, he discovered the stairs up the arena. He kept climbing up and down and saying "hi" to all the people he encountered. He made quite a few acquaintances.

But then he got bored and it was getting close to his bedtime, so we left at the beginning of the second half. I have no idea what happened in the game. I think the Clippers were playing the Memphis Grizzlies (are there grizzlies in Memphis?). I think I saw a couple of 3-pointers and a few steals and one really cool fake-out lay-up. But most of the time, I just enjoyed watching Jackson enjoy his new experience. It will be great when he actually understands what's happening down on the court (or field or diamond). Now I just have to find out who actually won the game we were supposed to see while we were watching Jackson.

Clarice

Update on Bright Flower

A few weeks ago, we blogged about the outcome of one of our prenatal test results. There was an indication of a higher than acceptable possibility that Bright Flower might have a chromosomal abnormality. It was rather alarming considering the huge difference between the estimated risk factor of our test and the norm. But over the past few weeks, we have been confidant that our Creator knows what's best for our family, and we have been optimistic that the baby would be okay (99.3% is pretty good).

So on Tuesday, we had an ultrasound. The doctor ordered one a bit earlier than normal because he wanted to know if there were any signs of the "stigmata" associated with the two chromosomal abnormalities in which we tested high. The ultrasound technician looked at everything that might be affected by the disorder. She found normal heart, abdominal wall, limbs, digits, cranial vault, palate and lip (which I was worried about), ears. Everything checked out. I don't think I realized how anxious I was until I realized how relieved I was to hear a good report from the technician. We know there's always a possibility that something else might happen along the way, but for now, we are so thankful for this report. And we thank you for your encouragement, support, and prayers.

Oh, I almost forgot. The ultrasound technician also took a visual tour of the...uh...gender-defining area of Bright Flower. What she said indicated that Bright Flower won't have to change her womb name. She's a she!!

Here she is in all her prenatal glory!

Little Performer

We're starting to realize just what a little performer our boy can be. Jackson has a few pairs of pants that don't fit too well. This is his loosest pair.


So when I went to pick him up from daycare the last time he wore these pants, his teacher had a story to tell me. She told me that during circle time they were singing "Five Little Monkeys", but instead of singing "monkeys", they were substituting the names of each child and having them jump up and down. When it was Jackson's turn they started singing "five little Jacksons, jumping on the bed..." Well as Jackson was jumping up and down his pants started falling down. The teacher said that the rest of the kids started laughing when they saw that. So Jackson stopped for a moment, enjoying the laughter, then started jumping up and down even faster until his pants reached his ankles. I wonder which of his parents Jackson got the performing bug from....

And if you needed more evidence of his ken for performing, here's a little clip of Jackson performing portions of his favorite songs for the camera.



And the tricks that earn the affections of our friends, his repertoire of facial expressions.



More little clips can be found on our newly started family YouTube site

Clarice