My Wee Little Laddie

Today we went to the Scottish Festival in Lehi.  It was very cold, overcast, and ... very, very fun.  Oh, we had so much fun.  Aiden and I have season tickets to Thanksgiving Point and totally were going to the the Scottish Festival.  But then we found out that Shiree had a bagpipe competition at the same place, so we HAD to go.  So, we picked up Uncle Chris and Shiree at 6:30am.  It was great.  Shiree did great.

Shiree did two solo competitions - won first on one, second place on the other.  She did great!!!

It was cold and we bundled Mister up with three great big blankets, but he still had to say hi to Shiree.

Haggis?  Meat Pies?  There was even a stall that sold a full leg of turkey or a slab of beef - Renaissance style... so what did we get?  Hot dogs and fries. Very, very non-Scottish.

This is me!!!  I am part of the MacFarlane clan.  Cool huh?

So, at the beginning and end of the games, all the pipers from all the bands got together and played Scotland the Brave and two other ones I didn't know.  It was so cool - over 100 pipers all playing and marching together.  One giant fighting force.   Loud and very, very cool.  Do you remember the fighting scenes from Bedknobs and Broomsticks?  Kinda like that.  If you don't remember the scene, you better watch it again.

Trying to stay warm and dry out of the 25 minute deluge.  Otherwise, it was dry all day.  It really was like being in the Scottish Highlands.

Shiree's pipe band

Crashed.  He slept through the cannon fire that started the games.  He slept through over 100 pipers playing right by his stroller.  But the chaplain said the prayer and he woke up.  Go figure.

It was so great to get back to my roots.  My family from both sides come from Scotland.  One family member was even Nellie MacFarlane.  Great!!!

We got home at 9pm.  Tired.  Very tired.  But very fun.

Appreciation and Thoughtfulness

My office... sorta

I work at a company that is very small.  3 employees on a good day, 1 employee (me...) on a very, very bad day.  A little background... my company is in healthcare and is owned by two very happy, ethical men with zero healthcare experience.  Thus, they hired me.  

The weight of this company inevitably lands on my shoulders and through everything, the owners are grateful.  Have you ever had that boss... Cruella Deville-like horror day after day after day?  Well, I have.  The people you hate seeing, but can do nothing about because he (or in my case she) signs your paycheck.  

But these guys are so very grateful.  They tell me that every day.  One phone call from each of them nearly every day telling me how much they appreciate me.  

So, today in an early morning meeting, I was informed that June 10th is Becki Biddulph Appreciation Day.  They had streamers, goodie bags, and banners.  They sent me home with 4 cases of Diet Dr. Pepper, Gobstoppers, my favorite gum and a certificate.  Yes a certificate.

And... my sister gave me a belated birthday gift which was a very thoughtful gift.  One of the best.  In 2005, we went to China together.  We had an amazing time and she put together a wonderful book with pictures from our trip professionally printed. It was so very amazing to relive all those memories of that trip.  It was so thoughtful.

So, with a sick baby, I was able to have a really great day.  I am appreciated at work - and have an official day to prove it - and I have a wonderful reminder of a great two weeks in a wonderful place with wonderful people.

My Mom Discos

My son at my mother's grave for Mother's Day

I was dancing with my son to Mika's Grace Kelly last night while he was feeling sick.  It made him throw up his peaches, but he laughed the entire time.  After Mika was MGMT's Time to Pretend.  Great music for dancing with a baby.  I love it.  I want to be the kind of mom that my son tells his friends is crazy.

"She dances to Frank Sinatra - by herself - while she is cooking", he will say.  "And then plays Abba in the shower."  He will roll his eyes and tell his friends that I am not hip... or cool... or smooth... or whatever adjective happens to be en vogue at the time.

But I want my son to see that I have joy in my life.  I am a terrible dancer, but right now, he doesn't seem to mind.  He will, though.

And it got me thinking about the mom I knew.  My non-specific memories of my mother are on her hands and knees mopping the kitchen floor every day or listening to one of her kids playing the piano and hollering, "C Sharp with the 3rd Finger..."  But my mother rarely danced.  She was too refined to really let loose.   She would rarely do anything crazy.  With the exception of that one time in a Jackson Hole movie theater watching Kevin Costner in Robin Hood when she stood and cheered when Sean Connery came on the scene.  Other than that, my mother was reserved.

That changed when she found out she was dying.  As I was dancing with my son, my favorite memory of my mother came to mind.  She was sick - very sick.  It was April and she died in August.  She wanted to go to the planetarium.  She always wanted to be a scientist - specifically an astronomer.  She had the brains for it.  So, we went to the planetarium in Salt Lake.  She was too sick to walk to all the exhibits, but refused the wheelchair.  She wanted to see the 3-D movie and so we rode the elevator to the theater and got our snazzy glasses... huge red things that covered half our faces.  We both commented on the sexiness of it.  We sat in a very full theater waiting for the movie to start and overhead Neil Diamond began to sing Forever in Blue Jeans.  My very reserved, very quiet mother stood up and started dancing disco with her over-sized glasses, swollen left arm, and wheezy lungs.  I laughed so hard that I almost wet myself.

And the other patrons cheered her on enthusiastically.  A few even joined in.  Young kids.   And my mother became a teenager to me.  Laughing, dancing, and not caring about another thing in the world.  When did she stop dancing?  Why?  Unfortunately, I know too many answers to the question, "Why?"

And so, last night, I decided that I want my son to roll his eyes and say to his friends, "my mom...  she dances disco to Neil Diamond.  It is awful."  It will be music to my ears.

Another Sick Day

Mister Tater is sick again today.  The problem is that it is really hard to know when he is sick because he is such a happy baby.  I love this little man so much!!  It makes me feel so bad that I can't financially take a day off  tomorrow because I work in such a small business that I am it.  Literally.  And I have a huge business thing tomorrow that I can't miss.  Good thing I have Aunt Kari to love mister and snuggle him when he is sick.

Looks like our camping plans for this weekend are kaput.  Supposed to rain anyway.

Shoot.

Independence!!!!

I tried to help him put the two halves of this basketball together and he would not have it.  My strong-willed child.

Aiden is a wonderful, happy, but extremely strong-willed child.  (If anyone says that he is just like his mother... you would be right).  I am lucky enough that he is not cranky and stubborn.  He is happy and stubborn.  I talked to Aunt Kari and she confirmed what I was experiencing all weekend.  Aiden is getting ready to do things.... HIMSELF!?  *gasp*   He is not loving the pureed baby food like he used to (except the mangoes.  He loves the mangoes).  This is the beginning the loooooong stage of independence that will make him a self-sufficient man.

So we took baby steps tonight.  Dinner consisted of organic chicken hotdogs cut up, peas, sliced peaches and apple juice.  The juice landed on the floor without a second thought.  The peas were squished and tolerated, but the hot dogs.... oh, the hot dogs.  They were snatched up before I could blink!  He was so absolutely in love with the hot dogs.  It looks like it is time to start the transition.

Check out the left foot.  This is how he sits.  This is how he sleeps.  For some reason, he has to have a foot propped up....  Go figure...

Plus side, cheaper food for baby.  Down side, Baby is growing up.  Worst part - Mom is sad to see her little man growing up.

Okay, okay - and here are some pictures of my house.  The bedrooms are not done yet, so those pictures will have to wait!!

Living Room finally getting put together.

My itty bitty kitchen. (Yes, that is a fresh loaf of homemade bread on the counter.  Mmmmm.... feels like home)

Aiden's bathroom.  

My bathroom.  

The entry way.

There ya go!  More to come!

Sorry World

He looks so old in this picture...

Sorry world.  This post is for me, not for you.

What a crazy day!? Not physically, but emotionally.   Not anything in particular, just a range of thoughts and ideas that have been running around in my head all day... and all last night.  It started with me dreaming of everything I did that was unkind or naughty to my mother.  In very vivid detail.  I was not an awful kid, but there were many things I would change if I could.  I think everyone would.  It was horrific to remember everything and the guilt was overwhelming.  I cried in the shower.

I love my life which includes tender moments with my son.  I made pancakes with my son and enjoyed them... with extra syrup.  It was amazingly funny to experience this with my son.  I know that sugary syrup is not healthy for my son, but it was worth every unhealthy gram of sucrose to see the sticky joy.

And as I was getting ready for church, I brought out a tub of lotion to moisturize my legs.  I put my hand in the goo, then rubbed it in my leg.  Before I knew it, I felt a tiny little hand on my leg rubbing just like Mommy.  But that was not enough.  He had to dip his hand in the goo and put it on my leg.  Monkey see Monkey do.  I  have realized how much he is watching me.  It is terrifying.

As the day wore on, I looked around my little new place and realized that, with every meal and toy, my home was getting messier and messier.  World, you must know that I have a sister.  She is the oldest of all of us and is an amazing woman.  And her home - ah, her home - is always clean.  Not just the clean that is the opposite of cluttery.  If you were to enter her home at any time, just drop by, her ceiling fans are dust-free, her baseboards have not a speck of dirt.  When you wash your hands in her sink, there is no toothpaste spit drops, no soap ring at the drain.  EVER.  Every drawer, every closet is clean and organized.

And I looked around my new place and it is not this way.   Not even close.  I really love a clean home.  I love the feeling when the floors are mopped, the windows washed, and the smell of Windex permeates every thing.    I know that I have not been in my place for very long - my pictures are not even hung - but I have never been the ultra-clean and it really got to me tonight.  So, I took on the project that was my kitchen sink and started with one spoon at a time.  I scrubbed bottles, the crockpot, and every other pot and/or pan.  I swept the floor, mopped with the cheating Swiffer, cleaned Aiden's bathtub.  But when I ran out of Lysol wipes, I literally sat on the kitchen floor and cried.

I understand I am tired.  I am worn out emotionally, but I want this so badly.  But I also realized tonight that I am not the kind of person that can be quick or organized when I clean.  And I really want to spend Aiden's waking hours playing and singing and reading and dancing.  So, I will get done what I can in the hours of the evening and it will have to be what it will be.   So tonight, at least, my home is clean... at the least the parts that company can see... my dishes are done and my house smells clean.  The washing machine and the dishwasher are both running.

And, World, I do get my sheets changed at least once a week.  That has to count for something.