"Of" The Week

I would rather be picking flowers but I suppose these stories won't wait.

Speaking of flowers, the weather has reached perfection in my book. When it hits 60-70 degrees I sing hallelujah. Beautiful.

Have I mentioned that my two oldest daughters are a handful? Things are actually not too shabby at school, the question is will I go insane or contract permanent brain damage during the process of trying to hold it all together.



Norah's parent teacher conference revealed that she is an outstanding creative writer. I knew she reminded me of my brother Nate who coincidentally, graduated with a masters from Columbia in theatrical writing. Norah is always off in another place, another time, and another land. As her mother I appreciate this, but the big vein in my forehead is starting to throb and will soon explode unless she learns how to channel her creativity more productively and appropriately. Food needs to be eaten and shoes must be put on.



Lulu is a super-reader. Challenger usually sends students home with 1-2 readers but Lulu receives 5 and devours them. Last week she read me The Friend. One of Lulu's challenges is volume control. Serenity Now!




Abram is a sensitive boy. He is sensitive to food, noise, texture, touch, you name it. I am the type of person who likes to think, Abram is the person that likes to talk, and talk. That boy does not have a thought enter his head that does not exit his mouth. I am working on becoming the mom that enjoys this insight into a 3, almost 4 years old's mind. But thank heaven he still takes a nap.

He attends school twice a week and loves it. He has all the letters memorized along with their sounds, including the long and short vowel sounds. He calls himself awesome. Awesome Abram.



All of this leads me to appreciate my soft, cuddly child. Sure, she throws tantrums and is often stubborn, but she actually gets her shoes when I ask her to. And she loves to be held. Every mother should have a baby that throws her arms around her mother's neck and won't let go. Rosemary is that baby.



Remember when I hit that bus? This is my surreptitious photo during traffic school where I learned so much about seat belts and disobedient citizens who obviously love to spend time at the police station on a Saturday morning because they won't stop talking about themselves. Sorry, that was uncharitable, but so true. I will never speed or hit a bus again.



I made these for a baby shower, all from my own garden. I like to talk about myself too.



This was my dress-up of the week. Although, I took it off as soon as I got home from church and put on jeans and a t-shirt.

What Conference taught me:

I've been a bit cranky this past month. I think I just let myself get run down by all that is expected of me as a mother and homemaker, all that is expected of me as a YW president, and all that is expected of me as a sister in the Relief Society. As meetings and doctor's appointments and responsibilities that seemed to be solely mine
piled on I realized that I needed to be more and I was slightly resentful because sometimes I don't feel like being more, sometimes I feel like being less. You know?

And I wasn't keeping it to myself, I was starting to complain. Instead of helping others feel better about themselves, I was a rain cloud. In fact, I think I said something along the lines of: If this is the way the Celestial Kingdom is going to be (serving all the time), I don't want to go. One of my better moments for sure.

And then I heard President Monson speak last Saturday, and then this Saturday, and again and again. And I realized I needed to repent. President Monson is the perfect example of how well service can be woven into the daily tasks of life. It's not separate "service" time stealing from "my task" time, the two are complimentary.



These somewhat, we will call them extra-special children, are mine because I need them and they need me so that all of us together can become like Jesus Christ. When faced with some of my children's problems I think "darn genetics", but really, are these burdens not gifts? I know, most of the time it is difficult to see it this way, but I am forced to dig deep and work hard in order to be what they need and so I am forced to involve God because they are His children as well and he wants us to succeed.

And my calling, it's not mine alone either. He loves the YW and called me to serve them by serving Him.

I think in our culture, 1st Nephi 3:7 sometimes almost becomes trite because it is quoted so often and is always applicable. But last night, as we had scripture study together as a family I noted the few verses before when Lehi spoke of Leman and Lemual murmuring because their father required them to return to Jerusalem for the plates of brass,and that was hard. And I thought of myself.

And it is hard. I live in a nice house, have a nice car, have plenty of food and clothing, but I struggle to do all that my Father has required of me. Sometimes what He has asked seems so overwhelming and I do feel heavy under it's weight, but then I hear conference and am reminded that He will provide a way as long as I am doing what He has asked and the weight becomes light and a way is provided.



So thank you President Monson for again, teaching me who I am and how to be her.

'Of ' The Week

Blogging has become pretty tired. And I'm burned out on life at the moment. The thing is, I like looking back on it and reminding myself and of course I am grateful for the photos.

Blogging is an OK choice. I am trying to step up all the time and make the best choices, but man, it is so hard. Anyway, my compromise is to blog once a week about whatever was noteworthy. A "story of the week", a "photo of the week", a "dinner of the week", you get the picture.


Flowers of the week:




I'm done with my flower garden, it's too hot, it has too many weeds and everything is overgrown. But I do have some lovely bouquets.





Meal of the week:





I made a Nicoise salad with food from my garden and grilled salmon. The potatoes we are growing are so good. I recommend potatoes.

Story of the week:







The Top of Utah marathon was a pretty sorry experience. The first 14 miles went well--a little over an 8 minute average. My knee injury started to hurt around then but I kept pushing through it until 18 and then realized I would probably need to slow down in order to keep going. At 23 my knee wouldn't bend anymore so I walked the last 3 miles and finished with a 4:09. I pretty much accepted it as it happened because I knew that I hadn't exactly followed the doctors orders. After the Ogden marathon I started running 20 miles every other Saturday. I loved it, but on the 3rd time around the cartilage under my knee cap was shot. I saw a sports medicine Dr. and he said to lay off the 20 milers. I didn't do that. Just so you know for future reference: if you haven't been running at least a year, don't run 20 miles every other Saturday. Good times.

About the course, the first 14 miles are really beautiful, after that the course becomes slightly bizarre. It's like someone just decided to run circles (or more appropriately, geometric shapes) around the finish line in order to get 26.2 out of it.

Scary story of the week:

We not only found a black widow (always) in the basement where my children play but also a scorpion. Did you know scorpions lived in Lehi? I do now.

Outfit of the week:

This is slightly frivolous, but here's the deal: I am an ageing mom, I wear a uniform. Every day. Jeans and a t-shirt.

Here is the other deal: I have a closet that houses a collection of cardigans, shoes and skirts that I don't wear. In an attempt to be somewhat hip and youthful I am trying to wear some of the clothes in my closet.

Here was my attempt today:



Magical photography compliments of Lulu.

This week bonanza is something, no?

On The Sunny Side

I'm still walking Norah to and from school everyday and I like it. Is that wrong?

Speaking of wrong: Last Wednesday was awesome. Tuesday I was feeling that luck was on my side. My children, though a slight handful, are beautiful and enjoyable (at times) and I was feeling grateful. Wednesday morning Norah had to be at an important appointment in Provo early in the morning. I woke to vertigo, did my best to feed and dress the children, dropped Lulu off at school and rushed down to Provo with Norah, Abram and Rosemary.

Of course I was late and the appointment took forever and I was (of course) late to pick Lulu up from school. I was about to get on the freeway from Orem when my phone rang (remember I have vertigo), I wouldn't normally answer but it was Lulu's school wondering where I was. The phone slipped from my hand and landed on the ground, as I bent to pick it up I rear-ended a school bus. No children were on the bus and I was going slow but it took an hour to wrap things up, I got a citation: improper look-out and a whole lot of snarkiness from Challenger.

I came home to a dirty house and hungry kids. I picked up a $60 prescription (of course) and committed a cardinal sin: I bought Wendy's for dinner.



And on top of it all the cat has been missing for 5 days; most likely eaten by a coyote. I'm running a marathon on Saturday and have a knee injury and have barely been able to run all summer. And my allergies are through the roof.

Bet you think I'm inspirational now, eh?

But other than that, things are pretty good.

Three First Days

Lulu ended the summer Monday. I placed the uniform on her piece by piece. As the layers grew, she excitedly flapped her arms like a nestling. A deep rolling "Challenger School" escaped her unrestrained smile again and again. She will be fine. School suits her. It's possible that her teacher loves her. And teaches her Spanish. It's only a few hours after all.



Abram started Tuesday. He has been asking if "school is today" all summer. On Monday, at dinner, his large brown eyes fringed with drooping black lashes locked on me. I recognize those eyes. There is a long line of them in variations. Who had them 300 years ago? Were they able to look as sad as Abrams? Will they exist 200 years from now on another little boy? They will be unattributable to what is now and what has passed.
He looks at me and asks, mom will you watch me at school, I'm scared. He seems younger than my others. He probably is-a little lost in the shuffle.
You cannot wet your pants at school, I say. He nods his head, again the big brown eyes. I pick him up, smiling. He says he played games. He sits in his car seat. I get him out and he's wet. I waited until after school he says.



Norah began on Wednesday at a brand-new-directly-across-the-street-already-overcrowded elementary school. We leave the front door and walk down the street.



We all walk together. Somehow the dog has followed. I feel a bit melancholy. Norah isn't so little. She has legitimate fears and time moves quickly without time to appreciate it's passing. I wonder how I got here, at this cross-walk in suburbia. Did I make these choices? I vaguely remember bits.



Norah reminds me. As she changes I change. As her body becomes stronger and more able mine becomes weaker and more tired. She walks in and I turn to face the hill back. I find my son's lost hand and it's like a Carly Simon or Joni Mitchell song. The baby climbs up my hip and the dog barely escapes the wheel of a tractor trailer. I washed my hands of that dog years ago. There are no clouds yet it feels a little unclear. We leave our shoes on the front porch and I sweep the kitchen floor.

Girl's camp starts tomorrow...

So I'm going through closets and dress-up boxes in order to compile this pile for the skit kit.

You get one guess what our theme is.

Just for your FYI, this will be the first time that I will be "away" from my children in 7 years, not counting the luxury stays I had at American Fork hospital and St. Marks while delivering the children I've had over those years.

And if it means going without electricity, showers, and sleeping in tents for 4 days at Blackhawk in order to have this time away, I am so totally there!

The Cat Who Earned Its Keep

Brad isn't all that fond of cats. I love them. A marriage made in heaven, no?

3 am a few mornings ago, I was woken by a raucous out on the bridge/hallway on our top floor which connects the bedrooms. I ventured out to the hallway to apprise the situation: the cat was hot on the trail of a living thing. I know cats, and this was not the normal nocturnal play of a kitty.

I woke Brad and told him that there was a mouse in our house and he told me that there wasn't any way a mouse could climb our stairs and that I was crazy. I didn't think I was, but it was 3am so I went back to sleep.

The next morning, around 10 am, I was mopping the floor. Abram was in the family room playing on our new rug. He told me there was some food on the rug, I asked him to throw it in the garbage, he said he didn't want to touch it. I said: Please. He then asked: What about the squirrel? Thinking he was speaking of one of our too many stuffed animals, I told him to throw it in the basement. He seemed to be thinking for a minute and then walked over to me and handed me this:




Brad's heart has since softened just a tiny bit towards the kitty.

Some of our Summer Scenes

A bouquet from our garden.

Daisies



Hollyhocks



An escape.



A sun stained kitchen.





Corn





Yes, we got a kitty.



My perfect baby has soured as a toddler.



The shirt sent her into a tail spin.

There are the constant temper tantrums, hitting, spitting, poop-painting every. single. nap.

It may be just the approaching of "2" or the study of demonology. It's hard to tell.

Our Red, White and Blue Weekend

It began with a family bbq at our home with some appropriate, but slightly tacky flowers presented to me by Norah.




Not even chips can part Lulu from her math bingo.











Opportunities to share present Abram with the opportunity to hit.














Lehi city fireworks are held at Thanksgiving point which we can luckily see from our front yard.























We braved the Provo parade, had dinner with friends, and enjoyed perfect weather. We celebrated the way Americans live: by eating copious amounts of ill-nourished food and clapping while blowing things to bits.

Truly though, I am grateful for what lies beneath all of this.