Olympic Fever

It's an interesting phenomenon to me that every four years sports suddenly become very interesting to me. Normally, if I were flipping channels and came across, say, women's biathlon, I probably wouldn't linger more than a few seconds. Just long enough to get the gist; ski, ski, ski, stop, whip out a rifle, shoot at some small targets really far away, get penalized for each one you miss, then ski, ski ski some more. According to one of the commentators, men's biathlon in the Netherlands is the equivalent to the Super Bowl here. The weirdos.

Somehow, though, if it's for the Olympics, I find it all mesmerizing. I think it's the drama of it all. Every single one seems to either be the first to do something, be making some kind of record, or have some sort of huge travesty they've overcome. It's the only kind of reality TV I indulge in, and this year we are hooked.

I also find the commentators rather amusing. After awhile it seems like they run out of things to say about the event and even the athletes, but they seem conscious of the whole world tuning in and somehow have to fill the dead air. Poor guys. How much is there really to say about the ski jump? My favorite so far was during one of the qualifying ski jump events. During a lull one of the commentators spoke up, "You know, it's actually a pretty easy sport . . ." I'm sure that was pretty comforting to the guys who didn't qualify.

Brady has been teaching Ellie all kinds of important life lessons while we watch. Like how disappointed silver-medalists' parents really are in them, or that we don't cheer for Russian skater Evgeni Plushenko because "he wants to kill Harrison Ford in the movies."

He's also begun her training. We tried a little with ice skating her on the living room floor, and she shows some promise with trying to ski jump off my lap. Below is their prep for the luge. We've since added the boppy pillow as sled. On a good day of training, they get those floors pretty clean.

Three Months

Ellie hit the three month mark last Wed. I have to admit, it wasn't quite the magical day everyone assured us it would be; I was imagining that the stars would all align just right, the windchill factor would be just so, and our little Ellie would just fall into a nice little contented routine. Still lots of fussiness, though; still lots of bouncing on the exercise ball; still lots of difficult feedings. Most of it is thanks to the reflux, I think, which the doctor said she would likely outgrow by 6-9 months. In the meantime, she is actually getting herself onto a pretty good routine for eating, the medicine is helping some, and she is taking longer, if unpredictable naps. Considering how uncomfortable she is, I think she is doing really well most of the time, actually.

I was so close to catching a real smile on camera this time.

Just missed it.

This month she has been out and about more too, not just sleeping through whatever errands we run, but wanting to be up and look around at everyone and everything. Yesterday at the grocery store Brady was carrying her, strapped in the jeep carrier (like a baby bjorn). Everyone kept commenting about our little boy. I guess they ignored the purple, flowery sweater I put on her. I know everyone has stories like this, and most of the time it doesn't bother me. Today, though, I decided there would be no mistaking. Nice frilly dress for church. Tights. Shiny black shoes. The works. Shortly after the meeting started a little girl on the bench behind us pointed to Ellie and asked her mom, "Is that a girl?" I sighed and hung my head in defeat.

We thought maybe it was her baldness that was throwing everyone. So we are experimenting with some different hairstyles for her:



It is a little awkward to carry her like this all the time, though. I think I may have to cave and get her some of those huge headbands with giant bows on them. I'll teach those 5-year-old girls in our ward not to confuse the gender of my baby!