Rule Number 2

Once upon a time, my husband wanted to be an astronomer. Then a BYU physics class convinced him that he'd have to make a choice between his brain and his dreams of the stars... he chose to keep the brain, for which I am eternally grateful (not that I don't think he'd make a great astronomer... it'd just be much harder to hold a conversation with a vegetable).

Because of this astronomy dream, in high school Dave spent a week at Space Camp in Florida. While he was there, he did some group activities in their giant 3 story dive-tank (because it somewhat simulates the working conditions in space). While learning how to use the dive suits & scuba gear, his instructor taught 2 basic rules to live by while underwater (there may have been more, but Dave has only told me about two of them).

Rule Number 1: Never stop breathing.

Rule Number 2: If it hurts, don't do it.

Now we find ourselves constantly looking at each other and declaring "rule number 2" whenever our children do something dumb or just silly and end up hurting themselves. Stubbed toes are common here, as are bruised heads and shoulders from running (literally) into door frames, as well as pinched fingers from sticking said fingers into the hinges of all things hinged. D also has a special knack for tripping on the carpet and bonking her head on her elbow on the way down. (And yes, Dave and I occasionally also do stupid things that cause bodily injury.)

But the inspiration for this post didn't come from my sometimes klutzy girls. It came from the little creatures in my house who until recently were considered "lumps" by a well-loved Aunt. The little creatures who just barely learned to roll over... at least part way.

I had hoped that my life would be easier once the boys figured out how to roll, especially rolling from back to front, because that's supposedly harder. I assumed that once they were freely able to roll, they would be content on the floor for longer periods, and begin happily watching their sisters play around them, while I sewed to my hearts content.

I was sadly mistaken.

Instead of the happy bliss I was hoping for, I now have two 4 month olds who for some reason can ONLY roll back to front, who get super mad at being on their stomach, and who insist on rolling to their stomach within the first 30 seconds of being put on the floor.

Allow me to demonstrate:

I'm sorry boys... but if you don't like being on your stomachs, stop rolling... otherwise, MAN UP and figure out how to roll back to your back, or learn to like your stomach.