Mother Love

There are discrepancies between the love I have for each of my children.

With some, the flow is easy. Copious kisses and squishing snuggles stifle any budding wedge between us.

With another, practice and prayers are required.

And with Lulu: she leads and I follow.



Her pink grip of steel has taught me to be a physical mother.

Her unfailing script (day in day out) reads:

"I want to hold you"

"I want to give you a hug and kiss"

"Can I scoot by you?"



Any anger directed toward her is quickly dissolved by a frantic plea for reassurance that my love still exists. And I learn my lesson.



She is an organic child; no pretense or guile.

As much as I feel for her and as many needs as she has; I believe I need her more than she needs me.

Site Unseen

The past few weeks have been a bit bruising. So goes the ebb and flow.

Amidst the purplish blues I've taken inventory.

Fettered precariously about me rub crippling vices and stinging commentary. Raw and exhausted I asses truth.



Time dissolves whether I run or walk. It's lost regardless of pain or peace.

Often, time employs me instead of me taking my time.



My truth is to make gold.

After listening to a friend teach gospel doctrine, I approached her to share my appreciation. She said preparing for the lesson changed her life-"At least for today", she added with a laugh. Giggling, I commiserated with her about the spiritual ADD I seem to have. Sweeping moments beckon my heart toward my potential. Momentarily I see a lighted path that feels tangible. But always my head turns back to the fetters as the hiss drowns the whisper.

Making gold is hard.

Much is required-pretty much all I have.











And lots and lots of all consuming, shameless love.







And a calming distraction (like sewing skirts and pillows).



And laughs brought on by a boy who breastfeeds his bear (by his navel of course).

Days Gone By

So...on the last day of spring break I had a momentary lapse of reason and took all 4 (very young) children to the zoo by myself.

Judging by the size of the crowd waiting to buy tickets and the mile away parking spot I was granted, I surmised that Good Friday may have not been the best day to visit the elephants.



But we had already driven the distance and I would have some seriously resentful children if we didn't see some spider monkeys.



I don't know how many times I was told (referencing Rosemary) that my son had lost his sock. First, whatever. Like I should retrace my steps at the zoo seeking after the lost sock (I guess it was Good Friday)? Second, whatever. She is wearing pink pants. She is clearly a girl.



Things actually went fairly well; that is if you don't count the 27 times that Abram was tread over by patrons.



We even ate lunch at the zoo. We found a dirty table, shared a Sprite, smeared nacho cheese and pizza sauce all over ourselves, and Norah purchased a contraband hot dog all on her own.



The last half-hour wasn't pretty, but we made it out by the skin of our teeth and our only loss was one sock.



Later that evening we attended our ward talent show. By attended I mean, I sat in the back shoving popcorn into an 8 month old's mouth and recycled spilled root beer float from the seats of metal chairs for my 2 year old while Brad and the girls sang Red Bird. It was pretty adorable. The girls each had a stuffed red bird (non-taxidermied) which they ran around flying while Brad played the guitar.







I did finish my sewing. I also used the left over felt from the bunnies and made the girls some barrettes to go with their dresses.



Norah asks for hair like Lulu's on a regular basis. I just am not that mom; but Saturday I decided to be that mom. We borrowed a triple barrel from a neighbor (thanks Val) and blew out both of the girl's hair and them waved it.





Rosemary isn't wearing her Easter dress because we finally got around to blessing her on Sunday (that and I didn't finish it). She could practically sit on a chair to receive her name and blessing. The dress she did wear is a hand made christening gown my great grandmother made for my grandfather. Both Norah and Lulu wore it, as well as all of my siblings starting with Andy; I believe Nate and I were actually sitting on chairs to receive our blessings, thus making us too big for the christening gown.



I'm the only one in my family who has wanted to use it thus far; but the romance and the sentiment of it create beauty beyond the lace in my mind.

Want to get away?

It's the last day of spring break and I've been busy.



There are those 3 Easter dresses I committed to sew.






I've been multiplying felted wool rabbits.









I've been gardening, attending tea parties, absorbing vitamin D between rain clouds and kissing lamas.


And, we are currently late for the zoo.

I'm not sure who this cutting edge Martha thinks she is, but she is kicking my trash.

She needs to chill.

Renew

I've decided to become publicly accountable for the goals I've set after listening to the 179th LDS conference.

I am sharing my goals in the hope that if you happen to catch me behaving contrary to these goals, you will remind me (gently please) that I am falling short.

Of course, the goals will be accompanied by our conference weekend photos.



1. I will be more honest when deciphering between my wants and my needs.



2. I will doubt less and will allow myself to feel discouraged less.



3. I will be a pioneer.



4. I will seek the Lord's advice more in my service.



5. I will continually invite happiness and the spirit of the Lord into my home.



6. I will open my heart to more love and greater acts of kindness.



7. I will remember how precious the Savior's atonement is and how applicable it is to my daily struggles.



8. I will be more grateful, more teachable, and offer more of myself.



9. I will be more willing to share the blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ.



10. I will love like crazy, and remember just how blessed I am to have such a life.

Someone Likes Me!

You know you can die blog happy when the fabulous and talented Gabi interviews you!

Last Supper

I've been impatiently waiting for the UPS santa to deliver this book. I fell under it's spell last Thanksgiving when Radio West (I will never be able to say enough about the beauty of Radio West) interviewed it's author and invited listeners to contribute to the conversation of how one would spend their last meal.
If you know me very well you know that one of my favorite subjects is food. My life seems, at times, to revolve around the simplicity and the complexity of feeding myself.
Sitting in the quiet comfort of my car while the autumn rain patterned my view, I found myself mesmerized by the gentle thoughts of chefs and the everyday Joe. The intimacy and details of why certain foods would be chosen for a last meal left me in tears at the Highland/Alpine exit. So many memories and moments of bliss are intertwined with the sharing of a meal.
The chefs were asked the following: what they would eat for their last meal, what they would drink, where they would be, what music or sound would be in the background, and who they would dine with. Some of the answers as you can imagine, are a bit pretentious. Some are so incredibly evocative, I've found myself mulling the thoughts over. Tyler Florence wrote that he wanted the last thing he tasted to be the first thing he remembered tasting. So beautiful-I had to trace my steps back.
Now that I've had a few months to think it over, I've narrowed it down to a place I could call happiness. So here it goes:

It would be a sunny August evening in Old Mission, Michigan. We would be seated on my grandfather's deck facing the bay. The air would be heavy with pine and decomposing forest. The sand would be warm beneath my toes and the sail boat would be heard rocking gently atop deep blue waters. Birds and squirrels would be squabbling over seeds and vacationing children would be chasing each other down the side walk that leads past cottage after cottage.




I would sit at the head of a long comfortable table shaded by towers of trees. I would ask to be surrounded by those I love and who I know love me and who allow me to be myself without judgment. I would love for my grandmother who has passed to be there. I would also hope to find friends who have been lost along the way and whose faces and smiles I genuinely miss. Comfort would be paramount.I hope there would be no pretense, and that the laughter would flow freely and easy (and of course that Bobby would indulge us by sharing his current and ever evolving philosophies).
Like Tyler, I would hope to return to my happy childhood by having corn that I picked with my 8 year-old hands from our garden. There would be plenty of butter, brussels sprouts, tomatoes, fresh peas, roasted carrots, and apples. I would include all of my beloved cheese, no alcohol (I don't want to be caught drinking the night before I die), seafood gratin and bread. I would love fresh grilled trout and salmon. I would also like a perfectly roasted chicken (this is my last meal remember). I would indulge in about 6 different sauces, they don't need to be on anything in particular, I just want some sauce. For desert, I would want my mother to make my usual birthday cake: Angel food with boiled icing. I would expect my sister in-law Sarah to make me creme brulee and my sister Sarah to make me rice krispie treats.



Most important, I would want to smile and remember all the happy meals and people who came before.





I know you have already indulged me; but I am truly interested. What would your last supper be like?