to sleep, perchance to dream

summer has recently replaced the whoozit as the love of her little baby life.

but i'm not so sure this new relationship is any healthier. while the crux of the problem with the whoozit was his lack of attention, her lovey has gone to the reverse extreme and appears to be smothering her.

skagit county tulip festival

the sun has returned to the pacific northwest, so we decided to take mike and janna (and summer, of course) and venture out to receive our yearly quota of vitamin d:

 

 

strawberry fields forever.

poppies. poppies will make you sleepy.

 

Bumbo baby

In general, Emily must wield all her persuasive powers for me to approve a purchase of baby gear. I do not possess the gift of fine discernment that distinguishes the value of the bouncy seat from the papasan swing from the rainforest jumperoo from the tinylove playmat. Nor do I see why it is necessary to own five different baby carriers--though she assures me each one has a separate and distinct purpose (reminiscent of her excuses for having so many pairs of shoes).

Last weekend, we happed upon a rare moment wherein it was I persuading Emily to make an aquisition: the Bumbo chair. As some of you may be aware, I was a bit of a late bloomer as an infant. Though I caught up with my peers by the time I took my first math test, I was quite content not holding up my head until 9 months or walking until 18 (months, that is).

I feel that my life has been rather grand, but as a parent, you always want your children to achieve greater heights. So I have enlisted the help of the Bumbo in ensuring that Summer's sitting abilities far surpass my own.

buttermilk blog

so i went to the grocery store on saturday night. and for anyone who might not be familiar with the last minute weekend scramble to the market, there are some very interesting characters who roam the aisles after 9pm.

i met one such man on this week’s trip. i was minding my own business in the baking aisle, looking for some ice cube trays, when he approached: “ i hate all these *beep* health freaks messing with the *beep* grocery store, so i can’t find the *beep* i need.”

uh, i’m sorry, sir, what are you looking for?

“buttermilk. all they have is *beep* reduced-fat buttermilk. how am i supposed to make buttermilk biscuits with this *beep*? if people only knew what they were eating…i ought to buy my own *beep* cow and keep all the *beep* fat in the milk that i want.”

right you are, sir, communists in the grocery store, reducing all the fat, tragedy, yadda yadda (and then i narrowly escaped).

now, there are a couple of points of concern pertaining to this brief interlude that i would like to share with the masses:

1) the language. do people actually swear that much in conversations with complete strangers? in the grocery store? i mean, obviously, at a metallica concert. but really—in the baking aisle? about buttermilk?

2) the fundamental misunderstanding of buttermilk. buttermilk, a misnomer, does not have butter in it, nor is it even the dairy product close to having the highest percentage of butterfat. its “richness” is not why it goes in biscuits and pancakes (else we would all be having buttermilk ice cream), but rather its acidic properties and sour taste. in fact, most buttermilk nowadays is made conventionally by simply adding acid to regular milk.

so, sir, you are welcome to buy some whole milk and add a bit of lemon juice or cream of tartar and make your own buttermilk that the health food fascists can’t touch (‘twould be easier than purchasing the cow).

but as for me and my house, we take it as it comes.

summer squash

this week, summer was ready to eat more than just rice cereal. unfortunately, our food processor had not yet arrived from amazon, so options were limited, and the only thing i had in my pantry to satiate her growing appetite was squash.

apparently, summer likes squash just about as much as the rest of us do.

 

 

5 days later

As it turns out, I'm married to a master of surprises. Latest case in point? Operation Birthday: 2008.

On Monday night, Emily left me to tend Summer while she went to a visiting teaching appointment. In reality, she stole my badge and infiltrated Microsoft's building 25 with balloons and cake in tow. After winning over the hearts and minds of some of the locals, she placed the ginormous balloon bouquet in my office and hid a birthday cake in the fridge.

The festitivites did not end there, however. Operation Birthday also coincided with an MSNBC SiteDev morale event. Activity of choice? Mariners ball game. Under normal circumstances, a Mariners game in mid-April is a fantastic idea. Unfortunately, 40 degree weather combined with large quantities of rain dampened some of our enthusiasm.

After the game, Summer attended her first birthday party. Apart from the 5 seconds posing for the photo, she spent the time captivated by her latest discovery: fire.

burns brighter

four years ago, on april 10, 2004, bryan and i were married in the salt lake city temple--despite that on the way to the ceremony, my brother assured me that it still wasn't too late to back out.

to commemorate our union, i would like to illustrate, in four carefully chosen scenarios, why i stand by the decision i made that fateful morning more than 35,000 hours ago. in no particular order:

1 - when i was pregnant with summer, i was mad sick for 7 1/2 weeks. during this time, bryan got up every morning at 4:45am and made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and brought me a box of apple juice. while the pbj didn't necessarily help quell the sickness, bryan faithfully rose from bed each dawn to make me a dish he knew i would just...uh...toss...

2 - bryan has an alter ego known only as "the asleep huss." i often hold in depth conversations with him only to discover the next morning that bryan remembers none of it. but luckily, the asleep huss is also very romantic: he is always telling me how much he loves me and how beautiful i am. he frequently asks me what he can do for me and approves fantasy purchases. so even if "the awake huss" and i aren't getting along, i can always count on his sleeping self to be quite adoring.

3 - one day i came home and decided to sell all of our furniture. i spent the morning figuring out how much we had paid for each piece, calculating depreciation over the previous 1-3 years, taking pictures and preparing to post on craigslist. when i told bryan, he calmly allowed me to go about my business knowing that by nightfall, the storm would have passed. and it did; it always does.

4 - after an ill-fated atv trip two years ago, i went through a phase (which i am just beginning to emerge from) where i was deathly afraid to drive on the freeway. unfortunately, at the time, i was taking graduate classes in dc and living in baltimore--which is quite a drive almost entirely on high-speed roads. so bryan leaves his own graduate studies twice a week to drive me an hour to dc, sit for two and a half hours during my class, and then drives me an hour home. who does that?

i realize that by telling these stories, i am making myself look like *somewhat* of a spazz. but that's why bryan is the yin to my yang, the macaroni to my cheese. i haven't quite figured out what he's getting from the relationship...but let's hope whatever it is lasts at least another four years.

first bite

summer has shown so much interest in our eating habits as of late--mimicking chewing, demanding to sit at the table during dinner, and loving to play with empty food containers--that we decided to give her a go at it.

like a fish to water. as anyone can tell just by looking at those cheeks, summer is a born eater.


please note: this photo was carefully posed. we do not actually let summer feed herself or hold long, thin objects perfect for thrusting to the back of her throat. and for that matter, bryan's use of silverware is also very closely monitored.

Sedia gestatoria

Every parent has aspirations that greatly exceed their child's abilities. Due to Summer's superhuman powers, I thought I would be immune to such follies. Alas, I am not.

Summer's growth rate of late has been quite exceptional. According to published infant growth charts, however, she's actually quite normal. The accompanying photo of Summer's new sedan chair (aka "the hiking throne") shows the disconnect between my expectations and reality. Apparently, her chin is supposed to be resting above the chin rest rather than behind it. Looks like forced family fun in the woods is at least a month off.

from a whisper to a shout

i don't know about the other moms out there, but ofttimes i find myself raising two different children. one whom we know is summer and the other we lovingly call "demon baby."

as a case in point, here is a clip of our little banshee as she wakes up from her nap:

and here she is again waking up from an obviously more pleasant nap; please note the good use of her "inside" voice:

unlike with, say, the incredible hulk, what brings out summer's inner screecher is yet to be clearly determined. just the other day, i was eating lunch at the byu museum of art with my brothers when all of a sudden and quite unprovoked, summer let out an at-the-top-of-her-lungs, blood curdling scream and proceeded to throw a first class fit. naturally, the college students all quieted and stared to see who was making such a monstrous noise.

owen's wedding part one

bryan, summer and i journeyed to utah this past week for the union of owen (my brother) and anna. below are a few pictures from the event, held in grandma jacquie's backyard:

summer and i in matching animal print.

uncle kenny posing for saturday night fever.

summer loves her opa d.

the happy couple.

summer gets very emotional at weddings.

the wheeler threeler.

we look forward to returning in june for the reception; check back for photos of owen's wedding part deux.

Zero Sum Game

I'd like to imagine that my keen intellect, dashing good looks, and sharp wit would make me less prone to making mistakes than the average Joe. Turns out my track record is really just average. Case in point: the 4Runner.

Shown here is a file photo taken on the day Emily acquired her first baby. We ended up buying much more car than we needed* using the following two rationalizations (aka mistakes):

1. We need a real off road SUV

2. We'll quickly fill the 7 seats with our 5 children.

Offroading

I've long disdained SUV's that have no business going off road. Thus, shortly after we bought the 4Runner, we took it to some wild 4x4 trails in Maryland and had a good time. Tellingly, the only other vehicles on the trail were ATV's and dirt bikes. After some harrowing "near-crash" experiences and putting some nice, long scratches in the flawless black paint job, I decided I'd be better off buying a dirt bike if offroading were to be my hobby of choice.

We need 7 seats

Like most couples, we tried to guess how many kids we'd have before having any kids. My guess is that these estimates are frequently revised after the first baby arrives. But even assuming we were going to have 5 kids, we sort of neglected the fact that it would take at least 5 years. And in the best interest of our mental health, that process should take well over a decade. By that time, the 4Runner will be long dead.

Course correction

Shortly after Summer's arrival, we finally came to grips with reality: We didn't need both cars. Although it was tempting to keep the 4Runner and abandon the Accord, there is something oddly satisfying about freeing yourself from a $600 car payment. And yes, there may be some sissy SUV in our future.

*Turns out this is standard fare for many young people at Microsoft. The parking lots are crowded with exotic cars driven by people just out of college.

designer genes

bryan and i are often asked who we think summer looks like. honestly, she looks an awful lot like baby summer to us, but we thought we would give the final say to the great and powerful web. i did two runs just to make sure (see below).

and that's that: the internet has spoken. twice. all further inquiries will be redirected to the blog.

now we'll just wait a few years to see if she has bryan's mad math skills or my unique vocal stylings. the other way around would be most unfortunate...

Wheeler Look-alike Meter

MyHeritage: Look-alike Meter - Family history

Wheeler Look-alike Meter

MyHeritage: Look-alike Meter - Free genealogy

i scream, you scream

bryan and i have officially started a crusade against store bought ice cream. as an alternative, we decided to make homemade ice cream once a week. our debut flavor: butter pecan.

now, many of you might be familiar with an old adage of mine: “learning curves are for sissies.” and i made no exceptions in the ice cream making business. but here’s the truth, people, making good butter pecan ice cream is hard (there, i said it), and truly, it was no place for novices like ourselves to begin.

in our first attempt, we added melted butter to cold cream. can any of our chemical engineering gurus out there guess what happened? right you are: the cold cream immediately solidified the liquid butter, and we ended up with rather large chunks of butter throughout our concoction. salty butter ice cream. yuck.

 

 

nevertheless, my hopes were not dashed yet (because truthfully, the butter fiasco was bryan’s mistake). i found a new recipe, new resolve, and set to work again. this time, i chose a very complicated recipe, as complicated recipes produce the best results, right? wrong. this was one of those (many) times when i think i know what to do while reading the recipe, and then i get started and realize i am way out of my league:

• “cook the butter until it has a nutty flavor” (what the? that butter could even have such a flavor ‘twas news to me)
• “melt the brown sugar on low heat” (this takes FOR-flipping-EVER; several times i even questioned whether it could be done)
• “slowly add the cream, or else the sugar will crystallize” (slowly is an understatement, more like imperceptibly)
• “stir over low heat, 5-10 minutes, until the mixture can coat the back of a spoon” (uh, it’s 30 minutes later and it STILL doesn’t coat my spoon)

there were so many things that could have gone wrong here, i’m not sure which is was, but the ice cream tasted nasty and somehow like coffee. dregs. for this second mess, i have to take the blame: bryan was at work and summer was sleeping.

 

third time’s the charm: exit butter pecan, enter chocolate chip cookie dough (and a special thanks to ben & jerry for its invention). success! ah, it feels good to be queen.

 

note to butter pecan: you may have won the battle, but i shall win the war.

baby magoo is looking at you

more than she can chew

this week's summer-gram comes to you straight from the school of hard knocks. with her aforementioned forray into the world of clutching, summer has been wanting to put everything she touches into her mouth.
the life lesson learned here: not everything fits.

this frustrates her (as it would anyone) to no end. here is a sample:



at least that is one take on the situation. the other explanation is that summer is involved in some sort of sordid love affair with her "whoozit," who continually refuses her romantic advances, thus plumetting her into heartache and the black hole that is unrequited love. your pick.

She's done it again

Emily has a long standing tradition of doing really spectacular things for me on Valentine's Day. Her expressions of affection typically involve 3 things:

 

1. An accomplice
2. An embarassing amount of decor
3. Something difficult for me to clean

The accomplice

This year it was none other than my office mate, Jeff Maurone. Emily discreetly paid a visit to MSNBC and handed off a surprise package without me knowing.

The decor

My office appeared as if a bomb crammed with construction paper hearts had exploded. It must have taken Jeff some time to arrange the office; I just hope none of our co-workers got the wrong idea about the nature of his and my relationship. Fortunately, Emily was wise enough to send a picture of Valentine's Day Summer for my desk.

The cleanup

It'll be an ongoing process over several months. Emily claims it's a daily reminder of how much she loves me. At Hopkins, the decorations lasted until graduation forced me to clean out my office.

 

gimme gimme more

summer has recently reached yet another milestone in her growth and development: grasping objects. and while each new capability she gains brings with it much excitement (for both her and us), these skills also seem to carry a degree of peril (for both her and us). i.e., she now loves to grasp chunks of her skin when she's in the tub (ouch!). and one would think that given my closely cropped frock, i would be free from the mommy-pulled-hair syndrome, but alas, i too am a victim.

 

good thing she's so adorable.

the only milestone that appears to have no dangerous undertones is sleeping through the night; i can find not a single disadvantage to that. unfortunately, it's a ways off for us: my summer baby even has difficulty sleeping through her naps.

Chúc mừng năm mới!

First and foremost, happy new year to all my Vietnamese friends out there. May the year of the rat bring you much happiness, health, and children (where applicable and desired).

As Emily indicated in her last post, I convinced the dynamic duo to come with me to Tết in Seattle. From the video, you can see that Emily and Summer enjoyed the festivities immensely.

 

When we weren't rocking out to various performances (traditional and otherwise), the primary activity of the day was eating.  Unfortunately, Emily has yet to develop a penchant for Vietnamese food. Thwarting my desires to blend in (admittedly, her spikey blond hair prevented this from the get go), I made a trip to a nearby food court to get her some pizza and an orange julius.  Eager to prove that we hadn't stumbled into the pavillion on accident, I quickly ordered enough phỏ, bánh xèo, chả giò, chè ba màu, and bánh tết for two and proceeded to devour it on my own.

 

Around this time, the sound of thousands of explosions engulfed the building. Not wanting to induce hearing loss in Summer at such a tender age, I left the girls inside and ran out to see the lion dance. I've never been sure if I'm supposed to do anything during these dances, so I did as the Viets did: took pictures.

rock on

bryan took summer and me to tet (vietnamese new year) in seattle this past weekend. among the festivities was a way cool viet cover band. here is some footage of summer enjoying the tunes (listen closely for her happy baby squawk):

Praise to the man

"The president and prophet of the Mormon church, Gordon B. Hinckley, died last Sunday at age 97." Link


It's a difficult task to succinctly honor a person who has had a deep and abiding influence in your life. Thus, I'll do what only I am uniquely qualified to do: share my 60 seconds with President Hinckley. In doing so, I implore the reader to tread lightly; to date, I've shared the experience with precious few people.

Hinckley's devotional addresses at BYU campus have long been a perennial favorite of the student body. On November 10th, 1998, I was among a couple dozen students who met President Hinckley before he gave his annual address.

I chatted with my friends as we were led into the underground labyrinth of the Marriott Center. When we rounded the corner to the appointed conference room, my mind did a bit of a somersault as my eye caught his. In an instant, the gravity of the experience washed over me and I felt strangely under prepared.

As the students gathered, Hinckley gave the group a once over, cracked one of his trademark smiles and remarked, "Here are our future professors."


Shortly thereafter, we formed a line for some personal time and associated photo op. I remember that Jonathan Chan was ahead of me in the queue; he produced a photo picturing Hinckley and Jonathan's grandparents posing together many years back. Lacking any kind of personal connection with the prophet, I suddenly felt rather obscure.

Knowing I'd be unable to engage him with ancestral photos, I opted to appeal to President Hinckley's well known wit. I confidently shook his hand and said "I'm Bryan Wheeler and you don't know my grandparents." An eternity passed in milliseconds as I realized I just lobbed the biggest dud of my lifetime. My remarks clearly confused the man and our nascent conversation faltered for a couple of seconds.

Fortunately, Hinckley's 89 years of experience didn't fail him. Our conversation recovered quickly as he turned the conversation toward me. We chatted about Houston,the faithfulness of the church members there, and various other things I no longer remember.

Dazed and confused, I headed for the exit. I almost didn't recognize Henry B. Eyring as he shook my hand on the way out the door.

Conclusions
Over the past week, there has been talk of sadness at the passing of Gordon Hinckley. I don't feel it. His life is a model of a life well spent, ever in the service of his fellow man. Indeed, he's one of the few men I aspire to emulate.

all hail the queen

now there may be a small faction of viewers out there who are tired of hearing me go on about my daughter, but i can’t help it folks, she rocks my world. watching her become a person is the most fascinating and wonderful thing i’ve ever done: it must be shared.

along those lines, i think that maybe summer has received some bad press. i read the other day that the average baby cries one to four hours a day, and i just want to go on record as saying that—assuming we do not travel in the car—summer cries for well under 30 minutes a day.

one might be tempted to say “what a good baby!” HOWEVER, even though i hate to toot my own horn (me??), a truer statement may be “what a good mommy!” as keeping the screams at bay requires constant vigilance on my part (the correct term for her particular temperament is “high maintenance”).

nearly every effort i expend all day is in the sense of “how can i keep her from crying?” left in the arms of another, she would probably cry all day (just ask bryan). i will say this, though, for summer’s contribution: she has never been inconsolable. she never cries for no apparent reason. thus, from experience (we do spend an inordinate amount of time together), i can coax the sobs and screams to an end—and rather quickly at that.

but what about those 15-20 minutes a day of wailing? those are the times when i try to assert my position as group leader. when i unwisely attempt to impose my will upon hers, and my noncompliance is punished forthright: “insolent fool!” then we both end up saying things we don’t mean, kicking, screaming, storming off angry, pouting…only to rush into one another’s arms minutes later and kiss and make up, professing our undying love.

for the majority, summer is a very happy baby: she loves to smile and laugh and talk and play. she is so smart and strong and funny. she very much enjoys socializing with others, and she wants to see the world. but heed my warning: she wants to see it on her own terms. and she must be obeyed.

summer baby is nothing if not a force to be reckoned with.

Patriot dreams

"With unprecedented speed and cooperation, Congress and the White House forged a deal Thursday to begin rushing tax rebates of $600 to $1,200 to most tax filers by spring, hoping they will spend the money just as quickly and jolt the ailing economy to life." Full story

The only hitch in the plan is the possibility that consumers might actually save the rebate instead of spend it. Ever willing to do her duty for her country, Emily assured me last night that she had already devised several plans for plowing her rebate back into the economy. As proof of her valiance in her long running battle against economic recessions, she showed me this:

This is a snapshot of her discretionary spending envelope (or Mvelope, if you will). For you non-accountant types, the signicant column is the one on the far right. As you can see, it's been in the red, well, indefinitely. In short, bad for me, good for you (and the rest of the world economy).