Rayl Family

With the onset of the cold weather, I have been parking my reading chair in front of our pellet stove to get my daily book fix. A few nights ago Carson woke up around 10pm soaked with pee from head to toe, and very upset. He was beside himself while I changed him, and when I was done he led me to the reading chair. We sat down and he snuggled up to me, then pointed to my book and demanded "Read!" So I did, silently to myself while he sat with me. It was a tender, peaceful moment, one that he has repeated several times since (minus the peeing part). I know Carson loves me, but Carson loves everyone. Sometimes I think he loves me no more than he does anyone else, so whenever I can get a little extra snuggle time with that boy, I take it. 

We have begun getting "primary answers" from our girls when we ask them questions. No matter the topic at hand, the answer always seems to be church related (Heavenly Father, say our prayers, follow the prophet, love "our chother"). For example, at the store the other day, one of my kids threw a candy wrapper on the floor. I thought I would use it as a teaching opportunity on cleaning up after ourselves. "Don't throw garbage on the floor at the store," I began. "When you throw garbage on the floor at the store, who has to pick it up?" I was going for something like "the store workers" but Lilly yelled out an enthusiastic "Jesus!"

Rachel got the last of her immunizations yesterday. I chose not to tell her we were going to get shots until right before we left. She was not happy and refused to go, which made me realize I should not have told her until we were actually at the doctor's office. After her initial fit, she seemed OK, and even went into the exam room without a fight. I should pause here and point out that we have been working with Rachel on finding a better way to get what she wants other than crying or throwing a fit. This usually translates into "Please can I..." or "Please can you...". As the nurse and I were preparing her for the shot, the reality of it all sunk in and she began to cry and say "I don't want a shot, I don't want a shot!" As a last attempt she finally looked at the nurse and begged "Please can I not get shots?"

I wish I had something great to say about Emilia, but things are much the same as they were last week. She sleeps, eats, poops, pees, and occasionally smiles. I was holding her the other day just for fun (something I do not get the opportunity to do as much as  I would like), and I had a flashback to when she was in the hospital right after her surgery. She had just come back to the PICU and she was lying in her little bed, all sprawled out and pink, with tubes going every direction. I remember thinking then that she looked so small and fragile and out of place. To look at her now you would never know any of that happened. I squeezed her tight, and kissed her chubby, well-fed little cheeks. I love that baby.