Once upon a dream!

I know there are a lot of people who do not let their children watch Disney movies, for a lot of different reasons. Some are against the company for supporting gays and lesbians, and some don't like the movies, because they support rebellion against parents and immodesty, or teach girls to be weak and rely on men. And even if I don't agree, I have nothing against the people who believe that. Their children, their decision.

I will say that I am fully a fan of Disney movies, and I had the entire script of The Little Mermaid memorized by the time I was 2. And in perfect pitch (which I don't have anymore. Well, close. But not perfect. Music is the one thing I know I can do.)

But I realized something the other day. Mike and Katie and I were having a staying-in night while everybody else was away at their various activities, and we decided to watch Sleeping Beauty because neither of us had seen it in a lot of years. And it was beautiful and classic and I quite enjoyed it. But I realized that the Disney movies I watched as a kid have really affected the kind of person that I am.

For example: my favorite Disney movies are The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Mulan, and Tangled. All the rebellious, strong-willed girls who (at least try to) stand up to the men around them. I don't know about you guys, but I'm not really a sit-back-and-watch-somebody-else-do-things kind of a person. Ask my freshman roommates how I felt about not having a career and getting married young and staying home with a bunch of babies (even if you all know that my views on that subject have since changed.)

But I also really like Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella. And they're the movies where the title character just put her head on her desk to cry and then got saved by a fairy godmother or handsome prince or both. My idea of what love should be like is rather old-fashioned, and I wonder if this is why. I think boys should ask girls on dates and open doors for them, and I think it's super romantic just when Mike kisses my hand.

And I think I've turned out pretty well, so I'm definitely going to let Katie watch movies about princesses.

Not to mention she's already seen The Little Mermaid and Tangled with me once or twice, so it's too late. Buaha.

Don't stop me now!

'Cause Katie sure is having a good time.

Well, it's official. She's crawling. Still sort of like a robot, and she really has a hard time on linoleum and tile with her little leggings on, but she's doing it. The other day, Sarah had a glass of water with ice (which Katie totally loves) and we decided to see how fast she was. Sarah gave her a sip, then put the water on the floor on the other side of the kitchen. Katie took, like, 3 1/2 seconds to get there. So Sarah would give her another sip and put it on the other side again. Etc.

It was minorly funny at several points because Katie has a tendency to fall on her face sometimes in her efforts to go too fast, especially on slippery floors, but still. When did my baby grow up so fast?

She kind of began it this weekend, when we went to visit Mike's sister Kliss and her husband, Brett. (Notice my skillful use of restrictive and nonrestrictive modifiers in that last sentence. It's all in the commas, man. All in the commas.) We went to their cute, well-decorated, non-expensive apartment and hung out this weekend. It was secretly supposed to be about dropping another sister off at college, but mostly it was not. We made sugar cookies, went on a walk, experienced church that was full of babies, and just hung out. It was so great! We really needed it to be able to de-stress and feel like real grown-ups for a while.

Unfortunately, I began to break the tenth commandment, as my dad would say. See, when we had our own apartment (ah, the good 'ole days!) it was both cinder block and way too expensive. Kliss's apartment is lovely drywall and is like half the rent than we used to pay. My jealousy is still raging.

Can you imagine? A dishwasher, a washer and dryer, and a stove that's big enough for a full-sized cookie sheet? Sigh . . .

Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't Katie.

I've made a few observations about my baby recently.

The first has to do with a baby shower I attended last week. As most of the people attending were moms, there were also several babies in attendance. One such was baby Nora, who is only a month older than Katie, and we discovered that they have similar interests. They seemed to have trouble sharing the plush basketball, though there were lots of other toys, and they both seemed rather intent on gouging the other's eyes out. (It was slightly more of an ambition for my baby. Sorry, Nora.)

But most of all, I noticed a big difference between Katie and the other babies there. Including the two-week-old for whom the shower was being held. And it had much to do with the color of their hair.

Blondies are baldies.

It's true! The other babies there were all brunettes, and even the newest ones had a little tuft of hair that was at least close to ponytail worthy. Their luxurious locks would probably have been blowing in the wind had we not been in somebody's living room. But Katie, my little blonde angel baby, has a slight amount of fuzz that is nowhere near visible from any kind of distance.

And looking back at my ward in Provo, where we were surrounded by babies of all shapes and sizes, I realize that it is true! There were plenty of brunette babies who had more hair than me, and there were little blond babies who couldn't even work up a good solid bedhead until they were two! Oh man, it's a good thing the Katie lets me stick bows and flowers on her head.

Another observation I have made about my baby is that she is much bigger than I had planned on her being already. She's going to be eight months old on Sunday. Doesn't that freak you guys out? She's a big 'ole chub-a-lub baby. (Which is weird because she always used to be the skinniest kid around.)

Also, she would much rather walk than crawl. We've been painstakingly putting things she wants just far enough to make her try to crawl, but she always gets impatient and just scoots on her bum. I know she can crawl, but she refuses to do it. Walking, on the other hand, she thinks is the bees' knees. She's always pulling herself up to standing on whatever she can grab--bookshelves, the bar underneath my rocking chair, my pant leg, etc. And she thinks it's hilarious when I hold her hands and let her walk to somebody instead of just carrying her. I think we're not far from it.

Mike even had to move the crib mattress down so that she can't jump over the side because, oh boy, she is definitely tall enough to do it.

STOP GROWING UP SO FAST, BABY!!!

Don't Worry, Be Happy!

I shall now proceed to redeem myself by writing only happy and silly things. (I mean, seriously, that last post was so whiny. I'd be amazed if any of you come back after that. Prolly nobody's reading this because I drove you all away with my inconsiderate whiny-ness.) I'll even sprinkle some pictures periodically to make it better.

First of all, let me warn you. If you intend to invite us over to your house (though I don't know why you would invite me over when you're in danger of being whined at to death), you will need to batten down the hatches, as it were. Lock up your valuables. Hide your kids and wives. No, I was kidding about that last one. But they'll probably be drooled on.

Yep, you guessed it. The Katie has now become mobile. And teething. Yes, also teething. She scoots about the house on her bum (almost crawling but still just scooting), leaving wet objects that she has gnawed on in her wake.

My mom is gonna need to fix her cabinet locks and such.

Also, I have decided that one of the contributors to my whiny-ness is my rather lack of . . . um, health. So I started working out more frequently in the mornings. I lie on the floor looking ridiculous doing ab workouts while Katie sits in her crib laughing at me. Yes, she laughs at me. She seems to think that my meager attempt at muscles is funny. Silly child. I'm not the one with elbow dimples.

Another, ironically, has been the long stretch since I have made real-live, actual cupcakes. I made some "cupcakes" that were more like brownie bites last week, but that doesn't count. Also, they were not cute. Not at all. I didn't even pipe the frosting. Heck, I didn't even spread the frosting. Just dumped a chunk on with a knife. And it wasn't really frosting.

So I have decided to make some s'more cupcakes (hehe, get it?). So much that I have even dreamt about making them. Oh, boy, they were tasty in the dream world. They gonna be SO good in real life. Mmmmm mmmmm. (The picture is of some banana split cupcakes I made a while ago. They were definitely scrumptious.)

Right now Katie is wearing a green jumper with big white polka dots and she kinda looks like a Mario Brothers' mushroom. If Sam jumps on her, he'd get thirty points. I better not tell him.

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to!

First of all, let me say I'm sorry for being such a horrible person and making you wait seventeen years between blog posts. I'm a dreadful blog manager. It's just embarrassing.

Secondly, I've decided not to put up all of the pictures of my recent food adventures just yet because I've had many and this blog would quickly become not a witty--sometimes even snarky--blog about my delightful child and adventures, and become a food blog. All about cupcakes. With not words because as soon as I put up pictures of cupcakes I would decide that I needed a cupcake and go get my bakin' on in a serious way. And not write.

Maybe next time I'll do a catalog of recent cupcakes. And then ditch them on this blog forever. Or at least for a week.

Anyway, the inspiration for my title lyric is, well, Katie. The little poop has had quite the emotional week. And, dreadful as it is, I believe that it began with me. Horrible mommy that I am, I took her last Monday to get her shots. I know, I know, she's seven months old and I'm a total slacker, but now she won't get pertussis or pneumococcal meningitis or anything like that. Which is probably a good thing.

But then, she decided she was going to actually exhibit symptoms this time around. For all of her other shots, they told me the whole "she may have a slight fever and such and such and tylenol and blah blah blah call us blah blah blah." And I was like, whatevs. My baby is superwoman. So of course, she actually got kind of feverish and cranky and yelled at me when I touched her legs for the next few days. Totally blew me away.

And THEN, she stopped sleeping at all at night. Remember that one time how she stopped sleeping through the night this summer and hasn't taken more than three real naps for the last three months? Well, when she's feverish, it gets worse. I may never sleep again.

And don't let it fool you that she's on the floor behind me giggling and saying "bah bah bah da dla dla ga go go rara!" That's all totally a ruse. She's really a plotting little twerp who is secretly thinking "hehehe, what can I do now to make sure my mommy is never productive again? Buahahahaha!"

Also, this baby is never going to learn how to crawl or walk or anything if my siblings can help it. I guess that part I can wait for.

You wish it was your birthday so you could party too!

There is a tradition in my family that when we sing "Happy Birthday" to someone, we don't just sing "Happy Birthday." Oh no. We sing EVERY SINGLE birthday song ANY of us knows. This includes primary songs, songs we learned at school, songs they sing at scout camp, etc. So long as it's a birthday song. And the finale is always the upbeat version of "Happy Happy Birthday from All of Us to You!" from The Emperor's New Groove. Always. And we're banging our hands on the table while we sing it.

Well, there are several birthdays in the middle of July. So we have plenty of opportunity to exercise our cake-plate-shattering vocal skills. Beginning . . . with KATIE!!!!

July 14th is Bastille Day (kind of the French Independence Day. Kind of.) but this year it was also Katie's 6 month birthday! Which means I made some extremely delicious dark chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter frosting. And we sang half of each of our birthday songs to her. It was a little confusing and hilarious.

And then she had a carrot or some pears or something while the rest of us ate chocolate peanut butter cupcakes. I promised her that I would make her some delicious cupcakes for her real birthday in January and that she could eat one then. Because she'll be a big kid.

But not yet.

Well, as soon as Katie's birthday was done, we had another birthday. Mine! on Sunday. But I'm a grown-up, so it's not quite the same. Except that the triple chocolate pound cake with a chocolate drizzle that my sister made for me nearly set the house on fire.

And because this post is about the two of us, I guess I'll put up a picture of both of us. Grudgingly.

For Katie's birthday, she got . . . a carrot. Yeah, she gets presents all the time just for being cute, so it's not particularly exciting to have a birthday.

But I had quite an enjoyable day. I think the fact that my little inner Brittany desperately desires to be a baker has leaked. Because I got cake pans, mixing bowls, the book Hello Cupcake! and little glasses that really need to be filled with a dessert and taken a picture of for this blog. Yeah . . . I think they've figured it out. And I also think I should open a bakery or something as soon as Katie's big enough.

And because 1) this post is very much food themed, 2) birthdays are all about food, 3) my sister Emma and Mike's sister Amy are both having birthdays this week, and 4) I just want to make you all hungry, we're going to finish with pictures of the semisweet and white chocolate torte Sarah and I made a couple weeks ago. And also some pictures from my photo shoot entitled "The Many Faces of Katie Lou."

Because she's adorable.

Happy Birthday!

Having fun! Isn't hard! When you've got a library card!

See? I redeemed myself from the Beatles' drug song by singing Arthur. Because I'm cool enough to have the soundtrack to a PBS afternoon cartoon. Yup.

In this post, I plan to first list books that I plan to read this summer, then list books which I think everyone should read, then list books nobody should read, and finally make some snarky comments about English professors and/or "literature."

How was my thesis statement? Wow, I have written so many of those. You'd think this English major thing would get over soon or something . . .

Anyhow, books. Now that I am not reading six pieces of "literature" at once, I am reading for . . . (wait for it) . . . FUN! BUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! I HAVEN'T DONE THIS IN YEARS!!!!! BUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

Sorry. Got a little bit Dogbert on you there.

In my excitement over getting to read fun books, I went and got a Boise Public Library card. It has Shakespeare on it (giggle giggle intellectual rebellion giggle). And so, I have a list of books that are recent (or not) which I have been unable to read because they were not intellectual enough (or they were and just weren't on my booklist). Here they are (in order of when I think I might read them).

1. Life of Pi by Yann Martel (started this one today. I'm quite excited.)
2. Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes (intellectual, but I've always wanted to. Sorry.)
3. Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen
4. The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd
5. Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi
6. Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt
7. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon
8. The Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman
9. Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen (I know, I have to do it sometime.)
10. The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley

Yeah. Still working on that list.

Here is my list of books I think you should read (in my professional opinion). (I mean, I do have a degree in English and editing after all.) (Buaha.) They are not necessarily in order of importance. I'll do my best to provide descriptions so you can decide. Also, I'm breaking all of the rules of formatting because the next two lists will not be simple and bulleted like the first one, because I like to talk about stuff. . . er, write about stuff.

#1 -The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. I know you see it and think, "19th century fatness? No way, man." But really, Dumas is a master of carrying a plot. All of his books are totally filled with action and drama, and I love it so much. This is my favorite book in the world. And I'm not a weirdo who swoons over Dickens. I don't like him that much.*

#2 - The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows. Totally fun. An authoress in London after WWII gets a letter from a man on one of the channel islands that was occupied by the British and begins corresponding with all the people on the island about their experiences during the occupation. There are serious parts, but also ridiculously hilarious parts. It's extremely well-written and I love it. (Given me by Mike's mom, by the way. Genius gift, if you ask me.)

#3 - Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling. I include all seven books in this because how can you get the whole Harry Potter experience by only reading one? Also, I don't want to write about each book individually. But I have to include them. If you remember, when the first Harry Potter books came out, everyone got excited because the books got kids reading again, which they hadn't done for a long time. Unfortunately, little Daniel, Emma, and Rupert came along and ruined that effect. Don't get me wrong, they're good movies, but if I hear "why would I read the book when I can watch the movie?" again, I might cry. They're good books. Read them. Read them now.

#4 - Percy Jackson and the Olympians by Rick Riordan. Sorry, another series. But Riordan is a fantastic writer. They changed the movie a lot and kind of ruined it for me, but the books are fantastic. Not only are Percy and his friends really lovable characters who have exciting and interesting adventures, but Riordan has the kind of sarcastic, dry voice that made me laugh out loud all the time. They're super books. But if you read them, don't start hating the guys who made the movie for ruining it. They have families to feed too, you know. They do their best.

#5 - The Princess Bride by William Goldman. You know how if a movie is based on a book it's 99.99% guaranteed that the book is still better? I know some who don't think that applies to The Princess Bride because the movie is so fantastic. But you know what? It's still true. Goldman is hilarious. Mike and I read it aloud the first summer we were married because he had never read it before and I think that's the strongest my abs have ever been.

#6 - Hamlet by William Shakespeare. I know what you're thinking. Hamlet is every schoolkid's nightmare. But you know something? Shakespeare invented a lot of the words that make up modern English, and Hamlet involved a lot of them. So many phrases you hear every day originated in Hamlet, such as "green-eyed monster" and "something rotten in the state of Denmark." There are lots more, probably even more familiar. And besides all this, it's an amazing story. You never know if Hamlet is entirely crazy or if he knows what he's doing. It's the murder mystery of the century. ALTHOUGH - because it's a play and was meant to be performed, I will approve if you watch the Kenneth Branagh movie adaptation. (Don't watch Mel Gibson because a) he's a horrible guy and b) he uses the whole Oedipal falling in love with his mother thing and that's disgusting.) (And if you don't know who Kenneth Branagh is, he was Gilderoy Lockhart. And also one of the best Shakespearean actors of this generation.)

#7 - Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. I love this book. I think I read it in all the same classes where I read Heart of Darkness, but it's totally better. The main character is Okonkwo, a strong head of his family in pre-colonial Africa. You're never sure whether Okonkwo is good or bad, but it's such a good story that it's worth reading. Especially if you're like me - 100% white and have only heard the triumphant colonizer's side of the story. Try it sometime.

#8 - The Book of Mormon. See? This is the last one, but most definitely the most important. I'm willing to bet that because the only people who read this blog are related to me, you've probably already read it. But I'm going to put it on this list to remind you of how important it really is. Not only is it a literary masterpiece and a history of the people on the American continent 2,000 years ago, but it contains the fullness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Joseph Smith said that "a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts than by any other book."

*This is the asterisk that goes along with my negative and somewhat snarky comment about Dickens. I don't like him, but I do like Great Expectations. That is an experience I think everyone should have. But the rest of Dickens I could pass on.

And now, last but not least, the list of books you should never, ever, ever, ever read. And you should trust me on this.

#1 - Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. I read this one in, like, four different classes. No, wait . . . yeah, I think it was four. Hateful book. It's dark, depressing, and racist. And it doesn't really teach you anything other than how dark and sad Africa was under Belgian rule in the 19th century.

#2 - The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson. I know this one is a super bestseller and all that, but don't listen to them. It's supposed to be about this journalist and a private investigator who solve a decades-old murder mystery, but all you see is people taking in harmful/illegal substances, swearing, and sexually abusing each other. That's it. I felt so dirty after the first couple chapters that I couldn't keep going. It was for a class, so I wikipedia'd the ending, and I'm glad I never finished. Keep away if you have any sense of morality.

#3 - The Famished Road by Ben Okri. I feel bad warning you against this one because my African Literature prof loved it so much. But it's so trippy it hurts. I even hated it and I like to think I'm rather intellectual in my tastes. It's about this kid in Nigeria during revolutions, and seeing everything through his child eyes, but it gets mega trippy with ghosts and orgies and flying white goddesses and weird stuff like that. Sorry, Dr. Eastley.

#4 - The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pinchon. See the notes on numbers 2 and 3 together. It's about secret societies and is all mega-poststructural and '60's and whatever, but it's just as depraved as Larsson's novel (except insert promiscuity instead of abuse). Blegh.

#5 - Oedipus by Seneca. This is not the Greek version by Sophocles, which is gracefully written and is worth reading so you understand references to it and the basis for a lot of our literature. The roman version by Seneca, however, was written in a time when Emperor Nero would have actors brutally killed on stage (not special effects - for real) because gore was so entertaining. Oedipus stabs his eyes out right in front of you and his poor mother/wife kills herself with a lot of groaning and disgustingness. Blegh.

Looking back, I'm glad that I can only think of five off the top of my head that you should steer clear of. I almost put Twilight to the list because it has ruined literature and the real-live relationships of so many young women (not to mention the career of whatever editor that was because there are so many typos and editing mistakes that it physically hurt me). But I didn't. Feel free to read it, so long as you are reading.

Anyhow, thanks for reading Brittany's rant on the world of literature. In case you notice, there aren't many books I've recommended which have come out more recently than twenty years ago. That's because I'm not familiar with modern literature (hence my booklist). But if you were to ask me what literature from this generation would end up in English classes in twenty or thirty years, I would probably say Harry Potter. It's not just popular. It's clever, exciting, and very well-written. Read it now.

Holy cow, guys. Did you live through all of that? Geez, I'm starting to sound like an English professor. Those guys LOVE to hear themselves talk. I mean seriously, have you ever heard of an English class where you got out early? No. Because they don't exist. You get out late. Always. But you have to love those guys. They're the only Democrats at BYU.

Hehe. Was that snarky enough? Happy summer reading!